#(Well Lucid DEFINITELY has a reason to tell him this now RIP)

[brokendreamscreation]

YEETS ONE OF MY SADDEST SONG ON LUCID’S PLAYLIST @heaven-said

[among-starz]

MLQC/MLDD boys react to finding you asleep on the bathroom floor.

TW: Mentions of nausea and vomiting

A little backstory, a few years back I used to get horribly nauseous for seemingly no reason, but I'd never throw up. It was always so late at night that I'd eventually doze off on the bathroom floor T-T (I eventually learned it was all an anxiety thing and that's why I never actually puked lol.) So, I thought, might as well get some comfort from some fake boys for this little problem of mine.

Gavin

-Gavin was just getting back from a late-night mission.

-He went to your shared bedroom and was a bit confused as to why you weren't there

-Finds the bathroom light on and the door slightly ajar and he runs walks over to find you asleep over the toilet.

-What?

-He kneels down and gently rubs your back until you stir.

-"You feelin' okay, Pumpkin?" He asks when you're lucid enough to understand him.

-When you tell him you're nauseous, he's immediately on the floor next to you rubbing your back some more.

-He sits extra close so you'll warm up from his body heat to prevent you from catching a cold.

-He'll quickly hold your hair back if you actually vomit and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

-Or, he'll just sit with you until the nausea passes, watching you drift in and out of sleep. When you finally feel okay enough to go back to bed, he'll carry you there.

-"Sorry."

-"You don't have to be sorry, Pumpkin." He says as he sets you down in bed and tucks you in.

-"You must be tired but you sat in the bathroom with me."

-Gavin brushes your hair away from your face as you drift to sleep, "I'll never be too tired to take care of you, silly"

-Stays up a while longer just in case you feel sick again, but will eventually go to sleep when he's sure you're alright.

-Wakes up early the next day to make you breakfast and some tea.

-Will be hesitant about you going to work, but he'll eventually cave after you explain how you're feeling perfectly fine now. He'll let you go on the condition that you take good care of yourself is texting minor and threatening telling him to keep an eye out on you.

-Since he just got off a mission he has the day off and will be there at the speed of light if you start feeling sick again.

Lucien

-My man's a light sleeper, so when you get up to use the bathroom he's awake too.

-What a puppy, he can't sleep without you.

-When ten minutes pass and you haven't come back, he's a bit confused, but brushes it off. His butterfly may just be constipated, he'd been telling you you need to eat more fiber.

-But after a few more minutes, he's padding his way to the bathroom, knocking on the door.

-"MC?"

-No answer

-He tries the door nob, thankfully you left it unlocked.

-Of all the things Lucien thought he would find when he opened that door, you leaning against the wall of the bathroom asleep was not one of them.

-A part of him wanted to laugh, but he was also concerned. He knelt down and gently shook your shoulder.

-You wake with a start, rubbing your eyes.

-"Are you feeling alright, butterfly?"

-You shake your head, "I feel sick" you say, scooting closer to the toilet and hovering over it, afraid you'll puke.

-If you do puke, he'll hold your hair back and gently rub your back until you feel a bit better.

-But if you don't, he'll lead you back to bed and offer to make you a cup of tea or just get you a glass of water.

-Will 100% rub your stomach and cuddle until you fall asleep. But as soon as you're asleep Lucien is trying to think of what could have caused this bought of nausea. Food poisoning? Pregnancy? Anxiety? Maybe all three?

-He'll definitely want to take you to the doctor.

Victor

-When you decided to head to bed early, Victor wasn't at all surprised. You'd been working yourself to the bone lately, and you definitely needed the extra sleep.

-But Victor, being the ever-busy man he is, stayed up to get some more work done.

-He hears you go through your bedtime routine and go to bed.

-And then he hears you go back to the bathroom 10 minutes later.

-He's confused but is so swamped with work it slips his mind. Forgetful? Victor? It's more likely than you think.

-But when he finally finishes his work and gets up to brush his teeth, he finds the bathroom light still on and remembers he never heard you leave.

-He opens the door and finds you laying on the bathroom floor, asleep.

-He gently picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. Despite his efforts to be gentle, you wake up.

-Your turn to be confused, but this sudden ride has got you more nauseous than before, so you don't say anything.

-"Do I want to know why you were asleep in the bathroom?" Plz Victor, just tell her you're concerned.

-"Felt nauseous." you say as he places you down in bed. You stay sitting up, afraid that you'll puke all over the bed if you lay down.

-"Dummy, you'll catch a cold like that, sleeping on the floor."

-Tired, nauseous, overworked, and emotional you start crying at that remark. Great job Victor

-He gently wipes the tears away but on the inside, he's all "Shit shit shit, she's crying."

-He places a kiss on your forehead and leaves the room, coming back with a plastic bucket/trash can, a glass of water, and some crackers.

-Will sit in bed with you until you puke or fall asleep, and he won't get any sleep that night because he's too busy worrying about you making sure you don't puke all over his expensive sheets.

-Is extremely mad with himself, first he overworked you to the point of vomiting, and then he made you cry? He'll insist you take a few days off to recuperate RIP Anna

-During your days off, he'll pamper you. Make you meals that taste amazing and are easy on your stomach, doting on your every whim.

-Will definitely learn to tell when you're overworked and need a break, and if that doesn't help the nausea, he'll take you to see the best doctors around to figure out why you're getting sick.

Kiro

-Kiro's 100% a heavy-ass sleeper, so he doesn't wake up when you get up and go to the bathroom.

-His bladder wakes him up early the next morning, and he finds your side of the bed empty.

-He gets up to use the bathroom and finds the light on.

-"MCCCCC, hurry up! I need to peeeeeee." He's currently dancing around like a toddler.

-He tries the door and is relieved to find it unlocked. He'll pee in the shower if he has to, goddamn it, he's about to die here.

-Thankfully, the toilet is free and he doesn't have to resort to that yet.

-Where are you? He doesn't question it. bladder full, head empty

-When Kiro's finally done, he turns around to wash his hands an-

-"AHHHHHHHH!"

-"AHHHHHHHH!"

-Kiro finds you, screaming on the floor of the bathroom where you were sleeping seconds before.

-"What the hell, Kiro?"

-"You scared me!" If he hadn't just gone pee, he woulda peed himself (Jesus I'm sorry)

-"What were you doing on the floor?"

-"I felt sick, I must have fallen asleep."

-Suddenly, Kiro is sitting down next to you, hand on your forehead, checking your temperature "Did you sleep here all night?" Kiro is worried

-"Uhh,,," He'll take that as a yes

-Suddenly, you're in his arms being carried back to bed. He sets you down and wraps the quilt around you tightly.

-You tell him you have to get ready for work soon, but he won't hear it.

-"You're staying home today, Miss Chips."

-"But I don't feel sick anymore."

-"You slept on the BATHROOM floor, MC!" He's right

-If Kiro can help it, he's staying home with you. Pampering you with warm drinks and foods that won't upset your stomach. No chips or sweets for you today. Kiro, you're starting to sound like Savin.

-But if he absolutely has to be somewhere, he'll call or text you every chance he gets, making sure you're feeling okay and that you're eating properly.

-Will probably want to take you to the doctor, but won't force you to go.

[moonknightly]

and you keep me holding on : santiago garcia x reader (nine)

Word Count: 2.3k+

Excerpt: “He’s figured out that she thinks she’s dreaming every time she opens her eyes and sees him. She thinks that she’s going to wake up to Nathan and that Santiago will be gone.”

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault, cursing, uhhh I think that’s it?

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

OCTOBER FIFTH — DAY TWO

Santi isn’t sure who calls her parents, but they’re in the waiting room the next morning and while he knows that they have every right to be there, he wishes that they would just go away. Her mother is already talking about taking her “home” the second she’s released from the hospital.

He doesn’t have the energy to fight with them yet, doesn’t know how to tell her grieving parents that her home is with him. She belongs with him, he’ll take care of her.

But then again, he’s already failed once.

Maybe she won’t feel safe with him anymore.

Maybe she won’t feel safe in the new apartment, she won’t recognize it. Sure, she’ll look around and see familiar furniture, some pictures and the duvet she’d picked out herself. Nevada. Maybe she’ll smell Santi’s cologne in the air or the stench from the cigarettes he smokes when things get just a little too hard, but it’ll all be in a space that’s entirely new.

Did he make the right decision? Should he have stayed at the last place?

No. No, he doesn’t think that would’ve been smart either.

Maybe she does need to go with her parents, back to the house she grew up in, where her room hasn’t been touched since she was in high school and everything is familiar.

But then she says his name in her sleep, and he knows that he’s not going to be able to let her go.

He knows he can take care of her. He’ll do it right this time, he’ll never let a damn thing happen to her ever again.

So Santi shuts it down the moment her mother brings it up again, and he’s surprised that her father actually sides with him on it. It doesn’t turn into an argument like he thought it would and he’s beyond thankful for that.

She stays asleep for most of the day, only waking up for a little while at a time, and when she does, she refuses to take her eyes off of Santi. It only serves as further confirmation that she needs him, he’s the right decision.

Jay offers to stay with them for a while, thinking maybe they’ll both feel better with another set of eyes, a little added protection, and at first Santi shakes his head — he feels guilty for some reason, he doesn’t know exactly why but he feels like it’s too much.

But then she has a nightmare, and he watches as Jay immediately reaches out and touches her cheeks to let her know she’s not alone, she’s safe and they’re right there. Santi’s positive that Jay has noticed that he hasn’t touched her yet, and he also knows that she probably needs someone who will be able to give her physical reassurance when she wants it.

So he caves, only if Jay will take his bed while he crashes on the couch and of course Jay says no.

But it’s not something they really have to worry or argue about right then.

She’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

OCTOBER SIXTH — DAY THREE

Every single news channel has been covering her return just as much, if not more, as her disappearance. They’re still looking for Nathan, but Santi’s sure they’ll never find him. Not anytime soon, at least.

He didn’t know if he’d dumped her with the intention of her being found alive or dead, but either way he has to know she’s been found and that they’re looking for him again with the same amount of ferocity as they had been when she first went missing. He hates to think about that, how after just a few months everything just seemed to die down for everyone else but those in his little circle, and even then sometimes he felt like the only one who still cared.

Santi shakes his head and pushes those thoughts away.

Her. He just needs to focus on her.

They’d gotten her temperature up, and the cocktail of medicine they’d been pushing for the last three days seem to be doing their job. Her scans all came back clear, no damage to her heart or brain. All in all, she’s responding well to treatment.

She’s still confused though, still disorientated whenever she wakes up but the doctors assure Santi that it’s completely normal and to be expected. He’d asked them how long it would take for her to become lucid and coherent, and they hadn’t really been able to give him an answer.

Could be a few days, could be another week.

But it’s okay, she needs to rest. She needs to rest and Santi needs to get a fucking grip on himself so he can be there for her when she’s finally fully conscious again.

He thinks the nurses have started to notice that he’s keeping his distance, and that they’ve been setting him up to touch her in small ways that he can never really say no to.

“Can you fix her blanket for me?”

“Hold her hand up while I replace the bandage on her IV?”

“Help me slide her over?”

He always does what’s asked of him, but his fingers never linger and he’s managed to do it all without directly touching her skin so far. The sweatshirt she’s in is good for more than just keeping her warm.

But still, he doesn’t really count it as touching her. Direct contact with her body isn’t something he can even imagine right now because he still wants to cry every time he pulls away from her, and he’s only touching a fucking piece of clothing she’s wearing.

Santi needs to get his shit figured out.

It’s not fair to her, not in the least.

So at three in the morning, when he knows it’s going to be another hour before her morning labs are drawn, when he knows that there won’t be a single person in to bother them until then, he gets out of the chair he’s been living in and moves to sit on the end of her bed.

She stirs, and the panic in her eyes is immediate. Her fingers tighten around the blanket and she looks like she’s getting ready to scream or cry out.

He hates it. He hates causing it even though he knows that he’s not really the reason behind it.

He clears his throat and whispers her name, trying his best to keep his voice from wavering.

She blinks, his voice clearly registering in her head though she still looks confused and unsure, but the terror melts away. She knows this is someone safe, someone that she can trust and someone who isn’t going to hurt her. She’s safe.

“Stay.”

“I’m right here, baby.”

She shakes her head and closes her eyes again. “You always leave.”

He’s figured out that she thinks she’s dreaming every time she opens her eyes and sees him. She thinks that she’s going to wake up to Nathan and that Santiago will be gone.

It breaks his heart.

“You’re not dreaming sweetheart. You’re okay.”

She shakes her head again.

“I’m right here,” he repeats, taking a deep breath before he reaches his hand out, but he stops when he’s only an inch away.

There’s no heat radiating from her, and if he wasn’t standing there watching her breathe he’d be thinking the worst.

It finally hits Santi just how small and fragile she is.

And now he feels like if he touches her, he’ll break her.

He pulls his hand back.

He’ll try again tomorrow.

OCTOBER SEVENTH — DAY FOUR

It’s cold and dark and his voice is coming from all around her. He’s calling her name, threatening her with things that she tries so hard to block out but they still creep into her mind, filling her with even more panic and dread as she’s left to think about what he’s going to do to her once he finds her.

Nathan calls it “The Game”.

He gives her a thirty second head start, tells her to run as far and as fast as she can, and if she can get away, she’s free. She can go home.

But if he catches her, his twisted words become a reality. He’ll keep her chained up for a few days, or maybe it’s a couple weeks or even a month, she’s never really sure but then the cycle repeats.

And he always catches her, always. No matter how sure she is that she’s finally escaped, he’s always right there to pin her to the ground and have his way with her. He’s always there to crush her hope and what little faith she’s able to gain back in those brief moments of thinking she’s free.

She shakes her head, trying to clear her mind enough to focus. She needs to get moving.

She looks down to figure out which way she had come and there’s snow. She hates snow. She used to love it, back when her and Santi would go for walks around Christmas time, hot cocoa in hand with their arms linked together. She wonders if he’s put the tree up this year. She wonders if Christmas has already passed.

But per usual, that happy thought of Santiago is ripped away from her when she hears Nathan’s voice again, this time only closer. Her skin crawls.

She has to start running. She knows she’s not as fast as she used to be, she’s too weak, but she has to try.

God, she hates snow.

She never stands a chance. It’s always so easy for Nathan to follow her tracks, and it always feels like there are tiny little needles stabbing into her bare feet with each step she takes, but she doesn’t allow herself to feel it in the moment, no. She never thinks about the pain until The Game is over, because of course she’ll take that moment of pain in trade for freedom. She’ll take those pins in needles if it means she’s just one step closer to getting away.

She thinks she might have it this time. Nathan’s voice is far off again, and she can see something in the distance. A road, maybe.

Yes, a road. That was definitely a car zooming past.

She runs faster, that familiar hope blossoming in her chest. She’s so close, so so close. Just a few more yards-

But then there’s crushing weight on top of her, and rough hands grabbing at her hips and she doesn’t have to look to know who it is.

He found her, of course he found her.

She immediately starts to cry, kicking herself because she should have expected it, she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes so high. All Nathan does is laugh and pull her closer, and then she feels his hand move into her hair. He holds her head up so she can keep her eyes on the road while he gets himself ready to do what he always does.

She tries to just lay there, begging her mind to drift off towards Santi, towards her safe place. When she thinks about him instead of what’s happening, it’s not so bad. Santi makes it all better.

But then another car drives by, and then another, and another and she can’t focus on anything but the fact that she’d been so close. There were people right there, maybe close enough to hear her if she’s loud enough.

She screams.

She wakes up screaming.

She’s screaming and kicking and Santi’s immediately by her side, calling her name, begging her to look at him but she doesn’t hear a thing, doesn’t register it.

He calls out for a nurse, starting to panic, afraid that she’s hurt and in pain but then he hears his name leave her lips in a broken, mangled sob and he knows she must’ve been dreaming.

He wants to cry with her. He hates seeing her like this.

Two nurses rush into the room, trying to get her attention as well but to no avail. They’re asking her what hurts, what happened, but all she can do is thrash around and call out for Santi again.

Hearing her like that, it’s the final push he needs to finally reach out to her.

Santi takes her hand, kissing each of her knuckles once he feels like she’s not going to punch him while he whispers that it’s okay, he’s right here and he’s not leaving her. She’s not with Nathan, she’s not in danger. She’s okay.

She doesn’t calm down, not really, so beyond terrified that Santiago’s voice is nothing but a trick her mind is playing on her, that he is the dream, one her brain had created to block it all out.

He repeats his words a second time, moving one of his hands up to her cheek, and it seems to break her out of it just a little bit more. He brings the second one up so that he’s cupping her face, and he watches as she immediately melts into him.

“You’re okay, sweet girl, it’s okay. It’s me, Santi.”

She doesn’t open her eyes. He wishes she would, but he doesn’t expect her to, not really. She’s so tired and he’s sure crying has left her completely exhausted.

He knows he’s right when her breathing evens out again.

But he doesn’t let go. Now that he’s touched her, he doesn’t want to stop, even though he knows that once she’s coherent it’ll probably be the last thing she wants.

He’ll take it while he can get it though.

He holds her hand all night long.

[ogravensimp]

this one is for@mistkissedmoon a lil more Dad!Constantine with a ft. from Jason Blood and John would be so terrible at taking care of ppl but still like really care, so I hope I captured that feeling in this

“This was your big emergency?”

Jason Blood gave a blank stare to the British man across from him.

He didn’t usually just drop everything to attend to someone; especially if that person was John Constantine, but ever since the exorcist decided to take care of the Gem of Scath he proposed it would be a good idea for John to keep him on speed dial.

He didn’t actually expect John to use said number.

Constantine was a demon expert in his own right. Jason believed that he was right to assume that the only reason his help would be sought after was only if the apocalypse had begun.

He felt a nerve in his temple twitch in annoyance (and, ashamedly in disappointment).

It's just that when John rang him and pressed for him to come to the House of Mystery, he had simply been expecting more...destruction. Maybe some blood and fire raining from the sky, the earth itself cracking open to release eldritch horrors of all kinds or even complete ripping of the fabrics of reality.

Anything along those lines would have justified his presence being required, but instead, he was met with-

“achoo!”

Jason looked down at the small form below him.

The spawn of evil incarnate was smaller than he thought it would be. If one ignored the glowing red gem wedged into its forehead, it could easily fool for another harmless 7-year old girl.

Especially as it laid half-dazed in its bed, staring up at the ceiling in a lucid trance. With only half its face poking out from under their star themed blanket, it sniffled pitifully due to the snot dripping out its flushed nose.

The room was perfectly mid-temperature, but the child has so drenched in sweat that even the towel on top of its forehead had over-soaked but yet it still shivered as if it was below -0 degrees.

Was the level of the child’s symptoms extreme? Yes.

Was it worth calling him for? Definitely not.

The daughter of Trigon was sick, yes, but it was obviously just the flu.

“That’s what I‘ve been saying.”

Jason turned to the source of the voice—a young woman stood in the doorway and held a tray of what seemed to be cups and bowls.

John had introduced her as Zed and he had just assumed they were in a relationship— to focused on the assumed threat to try to examine their personal lives.

Maybe he should’ve guessed this excursion would be a waste of time by Zed’s expressions. When he arrived she had shot him nothing but apologetic looks. At first, Jason believed the worst laid behind the doors he was led to but as he now knows, that was not the case.

“That idiot thinks it’s some paranormal curse,”, Zed huffed as she sent a glare at the blond man who began to try and defend himself.

“It's been weeks and she's still under the weather. You think Beelzebub gets the bloody sniffles?!”

“But a child of her age would! Especially one who reads in the tub and doesn't dry her hair before going outside in August,” Zed rolled her eyes as she spoke as if the answer was obvious—and they were, "maybe if you stopped treating her as the destroyer of worlds and instead as a 7-year-old, you won't have wasted the poor guys time."

Jason couldn't help but internally agree with her words.

John continued his defence, "All I'm saying is when I got a cold, I just carried on with my day maybe a bit foggy up there but hardly half-dead like Blackbird over 'ere."

Another eye roll from Zed was the only reply.

Approaching them, she extended the tray towards Jason. He gave a look at the cup of tea and noticed it seemed to be next to another 'sweat towel' in a bowl, he cringed a little before rejecting the offer.

Zed just shrugged before dropping the tray onto a side table and drinking the cup herself. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, her gaze was soft as she stared down at the child, her hands ran through the child short dark tresses in a comforting manner.

Jason studied how she gently cupped the back of the Gem of Scath’s head and raised it, picking up a cup of water from the side and bringing it to the demon’s mouth and it drank with obedience.

The more Jason watched, the less he could even continue to refer to this child as a demon.

Etrigan was a demon—looked like one too.

How could he use the same term he'd use to describe the bastard in him, to describe this tiny looking thing before him? And though he could sense the hellish magic pouring out of her, for now, she was harmless.

"Alright, summon him out."

John's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He gave him a perplexed look before asking, "Excuse me?"

"Etrigan. Your demon buddy," the way John looked and spoke, you could tell he saw no issue with his request, "Just wanna confirm from a primary source whether if this is something worse or natural way of life."

Jason was flabbergasted, 'was this why he was called?!'

John sighed.

Actually looking peeved by Jason's confusion.

To the side, he heard Zed's chuckle as she began to switch the towels on the girls head, "told you he wouldn't do it."

"Oh bog off," John retorted back before turning back to him and placing a hand on Jason's shoulder, "Listen, it's either you or I visit ol' Luci and I'm simply not really...eager to have that encounter. So do me a favour here, and just bloody say the rhyme."

Jason looked at the hand on his shoulder like it was a parasite before smacking it off. Taking a breath to compose himself, he turned to the exorcist, " I assure you, there is nothing Etrigan can assist you with that I cannot also offer."

"A huge fuck-off sword?"

Jason glared, "Let me see the child," he spat—obviously ignoring the previous statement.

John put his hands up in surrender before indicating with a turn of his head to the child who had actually risen during their conversation and was now sitting upright—well, slouched and she was staring half-lidded at the wall with the only sign she was awake being her harsh breaths.

He bent down as to be in her level of sight and stuck his hand out, "Hello, my name is Jason Blood, you must be..." "Raven." "-yes, thank you, Zed. They tell me you are a bit under the weather?"

Jason realized halfway that he never learnt the girl's name and had simply just been referring to her as the Gem of Scath. He felt a tinge of guilt for his rudeness, but the dazed stare the girl gave him was confirmation that she was barely conscious enough to even notice.

He also realized it was ridiculous to try to shake a child's hand and was bout to retract it when he felt a pair of smaller ones latch onto his fingers.

Looking up he met a sleepy pair of amethyst eyes trying to focus on him, "N-n-nwot sick...jus-jhwust..uh sleepy and...cwold," with a voice that was softer than a whisper, plus the slurring of her words due to the fever, she was basically incomprehensible.

He was going to try and retract his hand again when he felt something soft come in contact with it. He looked down to see that she had placed her face in the palm of it and wrapped around it like a snake.

With a single muttering of, "...warm...like hellfire", she fell asleep with his hand still under her.

He looked at Constantine.

Not really sure what to do, but the con-man only grinned before giving him a tap on the back, "Good lad Jason, put her to sleep. Even I couldn't do that, let alone Etrigan. Guess I'll leave it to you."

And with that, Zed and John stood up and began to exit the room.

Jason was still in shock to even speak; so before he realized what they were doing, they already switched off the lights and closed the door with a soft click.

He simply stared into the darkness, the only illumination being the moon and stars outside.

Sighing, looked down at the fiend holding his hand prisoner and contemplated yanking her off. She was small. it would incredibly easy to flick her away and then he could simply depart home...but then he felt a squeeze.

As if the girl sensed his thoughts, she clung harder onto his limb like it was a lifeline.

She looked truly at peace right now; her harsh breaths were now nothing but puffs and she was less...sweaty. Demon spawn or not, the girl was no more vulnerable than a newborn fawn at the moment. Jason just didn't have the heart to disturb her peace for his own gain.

Another sigh could be heard in the silent room.

'Maybe an hour longer won't hurt but after that, never accept a favour for John Constantine again.'

hope you like it, feels weird writing characters that aren't just raven and my other faves, hope I didn't make anyone ooc

[loki-hargreeves]

Once upon a dream - Loki x Reader Ch. 2

[Ch.1] 

Warnings: angst, mentions of amnesia, vulgar language Word Count: 7,1K Chapter Summary: Loki has been captured. Now it’s Y/N and the Avengers’ time to figure out his schemes. Y/N learns more about Loki in her dreams and she begins to suspect they’re more than just dreams... Author’s Note: So sorry it took me this long! Please enjoy this chapter! :) Listen to: Once Upon A Dream Playlist

THIRD POV

[CH. 2: Last night I dreamt]

~  Last night I felt real arms around me

          No hope, no harm, just another false alarm  ~

“Is there something you’d like to tell us, miss Y/N?” Fury stormed into the room in which Y/N had been taken into questioning for the moment they returned on the helicarrier. How ironic, she found herself in yet another interrogation room, treated like a villain despite the promise of being a hero for capturing Loki. She hadn’t done anything wrong! Fury didn’t sit down. Instead, he stood by the end of the table with his palms rested on it as he leaned towards Y/N. It was an intimidating position. She was beyond exhausted and it only fueled her rage when they trusted her so little.

“No,” She made it short and clear.

Fury clenched his jaw and it was obvious that he didn’t trust her. “Mind telling us why Loki knew your name?”

“He must’ve used his magic,” Y/N came up with a simple answer. Loki seemed to know the others too, which he now said was because of Barton, the agent he kidnapped.

“So, he used magic to know about your amnesia too, huh?” Fury just had to pour salt into the open wound. It’s like no one cared about how she felt. They spoke of her past like it was nothing and she hated how much it upset her.

At this point, she didn’t know what she could say to defend herself. “You’re making assumptions, Fury. I don’t know anything, I swear.”

That seemed to be a blow for the tall man. He sighed and then stood up straight, walking around the small room deep in thought. He stopped by the mirror, which Y/N knew was a two-way mirror. He faced her with his back, and she ended up staring at the material of his black coat. “Whatever this is, we will find out about it,” He promised after a moment of silence. “And for now, Loki only wants to speak with you. You’ll be stationed by his cage where we can keep an eye on both of you.”

Was he serious? Y/N felt her heart drop as she heard her sentence. Loki would only taunt her further and possibly drive her mad. If she had known what her agreement would lead her into, she would’ve never accepted the job offer. Somehow, it felt like they hated her even more now than before.

Knowing that there was no use in fighting Fury, she silently agreed with him. The door opened and two guards marched in, ready to lead Y/N to the wolf’s den. She walked with them, tiredly dragging her feet across the floor. As they walked through the helicarrier, she felt eyes burning into her soul. They walked past a lab and Bruce looked at her through the Plexiglass. He looked at her with sympathy in his eyes. Great. His pity was the last thing she needed. 

Finally, they reached the place where Loki was held. It was a large space and in the middle of it was the cage, originally built for someone else. Loki was sat on the bench in it and he looked at Y/N as they arrived. He seemed to have expected her arrival.

“We will bring you your necessities soon. Don’t leave without consulting someone first,” One of the agents told her before leaving her alone.

Machines were buzzing and beeping all around them. Footsteps could be heard from the corridors. It was cool in the room which made clutch onto her arms. At least, she wasn’t put in the cage with Loki. She was grateful she could stay on the outside.

Their eyes never left one another as she walked closer to him. She didn’t stop until she was as close as she could get to him. Despite her exhaustion, she was curious. Loki wasn’t someone she wanted to mess with, but it was clear they had a connection. “They told me you wanted to speak with me.”

“Oh, yes. A little company wouldn’t do much harm here. It’s quite an…untasteful place, I must admit,” Loki mentioned as he looked around. He didn’t have anything in his cell. It reminded Y/N much of her room at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility; cold and empty. 

Y/N knew that wasn’t the real reason why he requested to speak with her. She sat down on the floor, tired from the long day and she leaned against the cage. It was far too tempting to just close her eyes and fall asleep. Even a short nap would’ve done good for her. Instead, she fixated her eyes on Loki and she remembered the strange thing that happened when they touched. They were in her dream again. It made it even stranger when Loki seemed to recognize the place. No matter how much she tried to think about a solution to the mystery, she didn’t know what connected them. It was infuriating.

“You’re deep in thought,” Loki pointed out the obvious.

If it wasn’t for the heavy surveillance in the area, she would’ve gladly mentioned their connection. But now she was terrified of getting caught - having Fury’s eye on her back and all. Although she didn’t believe she had any part in this godly mess, she was afraid Fury and the others would think so. They would accuse her of being a beast and surely, she would return to the facility for the rest of her seemingly endless life.

Loki knelt down so he was on her level. There was only the thick glass between them now, yet his presence didn’t make her uncomfortable. “What’s on your mind, Y/N? You look anxious. Is it your…friends?” Loki smirked as he said that, continuing his use of long pauses between words, enjoying the dramatics. He seemed to know that no one trusted her. 

Did it amuse him?

“You’re a pain in the ass, Loki. I’m stuck with you until we find the tesseract,” Y/N tried to focus on her mission. It was pointless now, but she figured she could try to get something useful out of him.

Loki shrugged, “I’ve sent it off, Y/N. You’ll never find it with my assistance. I think you’re stuck with me.”

“Too bad,” Y/N rolled her eyes. Her eyelids were getting heavier by the second and she felt a yawn creeping up on her. Without giving her actions much thought she rested her head against the glass, and she crossed her arms on her lap. Maybe, just maybe she could close her eyes for just five minutes? No one could be mad at her for that, right? That’s when her yawn ripped through her mouth and Loki definitely noticed.

He sat down on the floor and tilted his head curiously. “Tired?”

“If you don’t have anything useful to say, I’d rather not speak with you,” Y/N told him a little harshly. She couldn’t help herself in the moment.

“You’re definitely cranky. Perhaps you should sleep it off?” Loki suggested. Did he want her to sleep? Y/N looked at him and she noticed something strange about the god. He didn’t seem to be mocking her, despite how mocking his tone was. He had a rather soft linger in his eyes when he looked at her. Somehow, she just knew they had met before. Did he know about her dreams?

That’s when alarms rang in Y/N’s head. Loki must’ve known about her dreams. He must’ve had them too! Did he suggest her to sleep because he knew that he could speak with her in her dream? It was a shot in the dark, but Y/N hoped that it was true. That way, if it worked, no one could hear them.

A smirk curled on her face, ��I just might.” If they indeed had a dream connection, it would be both interesting and a little terrifying. To have a god in her head wasn’t anything she had ever expected.

“Sweet dreams,” Loki wished her, and he got up, leaving her on the floor. He paced across the round cell to his bench and sat down, keeping his eyes on the woman who nearly passed out in exhaustion a few feet away from him. He didn’t take his eyes off her even when her eyes fell shut and her breaths got heavier and longer. She was finally asleep, just like he wanted her to be. That’s when Loki closed his own eyes, relaxing as well as he possibly could in his situation. He didn’t show it, but he was overwhelmed. He had not expected to run into Y/N on this mission of his. It had changed everything.

 Birds were chirping peacefully, flying across the sunny sky. The river was running wildly, untamed by nature. Y/N felt damp grass beneath her bare feet. She was in the middle of an open field, surrounded by flowers that smelled sweet as summer. The scent of the colourful petals relaxed her even more. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was or even what she was doing, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the beautiful day on the summery fields.

“Hello, Y/N,” A rather familiar voice caught her attention. Y/N turned around and noticed she was wearing a white dress. In front of her stood a man she had seen several times before. She looked at his tall figure, his silky raven black hair, his pale skin and the details of his gear. He wore a black uniform that was topped off with golden details and a long, emerald green cape. He looked like royalty.

Something told her that she knew him, but she couldn’t quite put her tongue on his name. The more she tried to think about it, the less relaxed she felt. Suddenly it all came crashing back to her.

That was Loki!

It was astonishing to stand there and realize she was dreaming. The realization helped her see just how bizarre the dreamworld was. Her eyes scanned the rose painted sky and she smiled as she saw how unnatural it looked. The clouds looked like white paint brushed on a pink canvas. How bizarre it was to be lucid, especially when Loki was there. How was it possibly that he got into her dream? Was it because of his godlike gifts? It must’ve been.

“How is this possible?” Y/N asked him, feeling oddly calm. Something deep down told her that she could trust him. Besides, how could he possibly hurt her in her dream?

Loki walked closer to her, gently brushing his fingers on the roses that surrounded them. “Your mind is quite strong, Y/N. This place is peculiar and quite vivid,” He avoided her question.

“You wanted me to sleep, you wanted us to be here. Why?” She tried again, hoping to finally get some answers out of him.

That’s when Loki faced her, and his smirk and mocking gaze were long gone. As their eyes met, a sense of familiarity enveloped her. Her mind told her that she had looked into those eyes a thousand times before. If only she could remember.

“I wish you could remember,” Loki admitted with a much quieter voice.

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

“It’s not that simple, Y/N,” Loki explained tiredly. It was so strange that he seemed to know the answers she craved. He, the man she was supposed to call her enemy.

Y/N felt brave in her dream, so she stepped closer to him. Loki didn’t seem to mind her presence so near him. He didn’t seem to mind it when Y/N put her trembling hand on his wrist, wanting to see if something would happen again. This time, nothing magical happened. Her fingertips rested on the cool skin of his wrist and that was all. “How do we know each other? Why have you been in my dreams for so long?”

Loki looked at her achingly. “Everything used to be much simpler before, but the world has changed. I wish I could go back, Y/N, but something has come up. Therefore, I think it’s important I don’t bring you into this.”

“Into what exactly?” Y/N inquired, desperately.

Another sigh left Loki’s rosy lips, “If I tell you, I must know you’re on my side. You can’t possibly work with these people who only use you for your power. I can’t speak if you’ll turn against me ag-” he stopped himself before he could finish that word. It pained him to be quiet.

Her stomach dropped. She felt sick. Did he imply that for her to find out, she would have to betray the people she promised to help? Truthfully, Y/N didn’t care about them, but they had the power to throw her back into a cell to rot into. If she betrayed them, she would never get another chance to prove herself worthy of freedom.

But if she joined Loki, maybe, just maybe she could get the freedom she wanted? To be freed from the questions that had haunted her for decades, to live in a world with answers and the opportunities to do whatever she pleased. Could Loki truly offer her that or was he manipulating her so she would ease his escape?

“I wish I could trust you,” Y/N admitted to him after a while.

To her surprise, Loki put his large hand on her cheek, caressing her skin ever so gently. Her eyes widened by the gesture, but she didn’t mind it. In fact, it felt nice. Was this another trick? Did he have the power to allure her into his grasp or did she genuinely enjoy his gentle touch? It felt like her heart yearned for it, for more.

“Trust yourself,” Loki told her. Whatever he meant by that; she would figure it out eventually. Right now, she only wanted to melt against his touch. Although she couldn’t remember him, she was now certain that they shared a moment in the past. Otherwise, Loki wouldn’t be this sweet. She wouldn’t react to his touch like it was an instinct. It was all so natural.

She hadn’t felt this way in years. It made her eyes sting painfully as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Y/N was happy and sad at once, desperate, and hopeful. There was conflict raging within her.

Their moment couldn’t last forever. Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she found herself back in the helicarrier, on the cold metal floor by Loki’s cage. A familiar face caught her attention. It was Thomas! Seeing the guard there nearly made her forget about her more than bizarre lucid dream. He stood by her with a blanket in his hands and a smile on his face. “I thought you’d want this,” He said kindly, “You looked cold.”

“How…why are you here?” Y/N asked him curiously. Her voice was still raspy from sleep.

“I requested to be transferred here after they decided to move you. Fury approved,” He gave her the short story as he threw the blanket over her.

Y/N appreciated it. She had felt a little cold and a blanket would offer her comfort. She wasn’t going to sleep now. Memories of her dream with Loki flooded into her mind and she felt her muscles tense.

Why on earth did she lean into his touch like that? Her blood turned to ice in her veins as she remembered just how comfortable she felt. What was that all about?

“Are you okay?” Thomas wondered.

Y/N investigated the cage where Loki was. The god of Mischief was sat on the same spot as before and now a cold look painted his face. He looked nothing like he did in her dream. Back there he seemed to kind, so gentle. Now he frightened her. His creepy gaze sent cold shivers down her spine. Was his cold exterior an act or was he truly the monster everyone said he was?

Brushing Loki off her mind, Y/N looked away as she stood up, wrapping the blanket over her shoulders. “I’m okay, Thomas. Just worn out. I didn’t expect this much from this mission.”

“I see. It must be nice to be somewhere new though,” Thomas assumed she was happy to be out of the facility. It was half the truth.

“Yeah, I mean I haven’t really gotten a chance to enjoy this yet. Fury doesn’t trust me,” She admitted.

That seemed to remind Thomas of something, “Right! He asked me to bring you to a conference room. Apparently, you should get to know your teammates better. I heard that Thor’s here.”

Thor? Oh, yes. Y/N remembered that the god agreed to come with them. She was surprised that she nearly forgot about that. “Lead the way,” Y/N told him, trying to seem excited when in reality she felt lost. All she could think about was Loki and his mysterious offer.

Just before they left, Y/N turned to look behind her shoulder to meet Loki’s gaze. It was so intense that it made goosebumps rise on her body. Whatever connection they had that allowed them to escape in a dreamy world, it was real. The look on Loki’s face said it all.

                  Just as promised, Thomas lead her to the others. When they entered the conference room, they were in full conversation already. Y/N knew she was supposed to be excited to get a chance to talk and interact with people, but now all she felt was anxiety. Would they think of her as a traitor?

“Any luck on finding the tesseract?” Natasha asked Y/N, being the first one to notice her. That made everyone else turn to her as well, eyes full of curiosity.

Y/N smiled a little bit as she walked further inside, “No. He said he sent it off and he doesn’t know where it is.”

“He told me so as well,” Thor let Y/N know. At least Loki was consistent with his story. Y/N noticed how oddly Thor looked at her, as if he was studying her. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes spoke louder than words. Y/N decided to ignore that.

“Do we have a plan?” Y/N ignored Thor and tried to focus on the mission.

“I’m going to talk to Barton once he’s in the right head-space,” Natasha explained. “Maybe he can recall something, anything that could be useful.”

That’s when Bruce Banner spoke up. Y/N hadn’t heard much from him yet, “I’m trying to study the scepter, but I haven’t figured out how it works. Tony and I will continue looking into that,” he let everyone know. The scepter was nearby. Y/N could feel its strong presence in the room. The scepter had negative energy packed into it, which was bizarre. Although it looked like metal and rocks, it felt like it was sentient. As odd as it was, Y/N believed that the scepter had the potential to reveal a lot it they could just dig into it.

Steve turned to look at Y/N, “You should try to speak with Loki again. Maybe Thor could help you. He’s his brother after all.”

They had clearly done much of the talking when she wasn’t there. It almost felt useless to even stand in the conference room.

“Find out why he killed 80 people in two days,” Natasha muttered clearly out of spite. It was understandable that they didn’t like Loki. Y/N shouldn’t like him either, but she couldn’t help but feel for him. He hadn’t shown any signs that he wanted to be Y/N’s enemy. It was hard to hate someone without a reason.

“He was adopted, but he’s still my brother. I will find out what this is all about,” Thor assured them. He just had to mention he was adopted. Yes, it was a surprise, but it was strange of him to mention it. Was Thor ashamed of Loki? It sure seemed like it.

“Maybe you’d like to see him alone first? He might speak with less distractions,” Y/N suggested, now facing Loki’s brother. He was tall and muscular too and a little intimidating, to be honest. But she wasn’t afraid. She had faced much worse and it seemed like Thor wasn’t a threat anymore.

He let out an empty laugh, “I don’t know how much he’ll talk to now. Things have changed since he left.”

Since he left? “What do you mean?” She inquired, curious to learn more about how Loki ended up on earth. Everyone else seemed just as keen to learn more about him.

Thor seemed tense as he prepared to explain the situation. Clearly, the past was a burden on his shoulders. “I think Loki is doing this to get revenge on me. We had a pretty nasty fight on Asgard. I let him go. I thought he was dead, but I was wrong,” Thor started dramatically. Would Loki truly go through so much to get revenge on his brother? Before anyone could question Thor, he continued, “When I caught him, Loki said something odd. He told me about worlds that he saw in his exile. The person I spoke to was so distant. It’s like Loki is far gone. Someone showed him these powers, but I do not know who.”

“Are you saying that Loki isn’t working alone?” Tony wanted it confirmed.

Thor faced the man of Iron heavily, “I think so, yes.”

“But who could he possibly be working with?” Y/N thought out loud. She tried to connect this new information with everything Loki had told her. He did seem like he was holding back but why? Was he threatened? Had he made a deal too?

Thor gave Y/N half a smile, “Let’s find out, shall we?”

 The moment after Thor and Y/N walked away from the others, Y/N sensed a shift in Thor’s demeanour. At first, she blamed it on his nerves. After all, he was going to talk to his brother who he had thought dead. Then Thor spoke to her, which confused her even further, “Have we met before, Lady Y/N?”

She narrowed her eyes and glanced at the golden locked man – god, beside her. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?” Thor inquired.

“I’m sure I would remember if I had met you,” She faked a smile, deciding not to mention her issue with her memories. Surely, she hadn’t met Thor before. After all, he wasn’t even from Earth. Then again, Loki seemed to know her so why wouldn’t Thor?

Thankfully, Thor let it go. “You just remind me of someone. Must be a coincidence.”

They finally reached Loki’s cell, which filled Y/N with excitement and grudge. Perhaps now with Thor’s aid, they would get some answers. Hopefully, answers that would steer away the attention from her. She hated being treated like a criminal.

Loki glanced at them, almost as if he knew they were coming. Y/N let Thor go ahead and she followed behind closely, growing more nervous with each step she took. If Loki said one thing wrong, it would cost Y/N a lot. For now, she could only hope that Loki wasn’t in the mood to ruin her time.

“You’ve come to see me, but I assume it’s not for a heart-to-heart conversation,” Loki stared at Thor, raising his dark eyebrow curiously as he spoke.

“You assumed right,” Thor pulled his lips into a thin line, imitating a smile. It was clear he wasn’t happy at all. “As I said earlier, if you give up this wicked plan of yours and come home, we can put it all behind us.”

Somehow, that seemed to offend Loki. The proposal of going home didn’t make Loki look relieved or excited at all. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest as she stood there and studied the two otherworldly men. She was intrigued by their past. It wasn’t easy not to wonder how they ended up here, like this.

Loki walked around the cell, taking long yet silent steps. His hands rested on the small of his back and he seemed deep in thought. “You’re wasting your time, ‘brother’. Your blindness won’t let you see the deeper truth,” he finally spoke, spitting out the word ‘brother’ as if it were poison on his tongue. Then he glanced at Y/N, but luckily said nothing – yet.

“Then help me see!” Thor seemed frustrated with Loki. His words didn’t make sense at all. “Let me help you. You don’t have to anything you’ll regret.”

“Who’s to say I’ll regret anything at all?” Loki snapped angrily. He was so different now. Earlier, he seemed calmer and even kinder when he had spoken to Y/N.

Thor turned to face the woman who had been quiet so far. There was a shadow of desperation in his blue eyes. Was he hoping for her to say something?

Y/N felt the pressure on her shoulders, so she decided to try something. “Are you working alone?” She asked Loki, dismissing the conversation he had with his brother.

Loki faced her and some of his anger seemed to lift. “Ah- someone is asking the right questions.”

“You could be more straightforward,” Y/N narrowed her eyes and surprised herself with her attitude. She hadn’t intended to sound so harsh, but she hoped it would work on the god of mischief. Loki smiled. He seemed to like the sudden change in her attitude. Thor was quiet - for once - as he anticipated Loki’s reaction.

As Loki waltzed closer to Y/N, so close that the wall of his cage stopped him, she grew tense. Despite his witty smile, Y/N noticed something strange about him. His eyes were so sad. He looked at her longingly, which confused her beyond understanding. It almost convinced her that whatever façade he put up here had a deeper meaning. As they stood close, Y/N noticed other subtle details; Loki’s skin was pale and she could swear it looked bruised. His eyes were full of broken veins and whenever he put weight on his right leg, he seemed more cautious, almost like he was in pain. Something was wrong.

The silence dragged out too long for Thor’s liking. He couldn’t understand why Loki and Y/N were staring each other down. Thos has a lot on his mind right now. Seeing Y/N didn’t help at all, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe anything. It was merely a coincidence that she was so much like someone he knew long ago. Right now, Thor wanted his brother back. “Answer her question, brother.”

There, he had to ruin the moment. Y/N was frustrated because she felt like she was getting a grip on him. As soon as Thor spoke, Loki’s vulnerability disappeared. “If you truly want to find out, I’m sure you’ll find another way to reach your answers. Maybe punch your way through it all,” Loki suggested coldly.

“Don’t make me come in there!” Thor growled. Although he tried to sound angry, Y/N knew he was upset. Thor clearly cared about Loki, but their relationship had struggled a lot.

“Oh, I wouldn’t stop you,” Loki tried to rile him up.

To Y/N, that seemed like a terrible idea. She looked at them closely and felt a yawn creeping up on her. She tried to hold it back but failed miserably. Her hands covered her mouth, but they noticed her weariness.

“You’re boring her, brother,” Loki mocked Thor and turned his back to them.

“I know you’re not working alone, Loki. Whoever showed you these things…whoever they are, I will find out about it. This isn’t you-“

“I’ve changed!” Loki defended himself.

Then it was quiet.

Thor turned to Y/N and he sighed deeply. They didn’t have to say it because it was so clear. They weren’t going to get their answers from Loki this way. But it had been worth a try.

                         Fury had been kind enough to give Y/N a room where she could rest in. He had found Y/N with Thor and told her that he had seen the surveillance tape. According to Fury, it would be better for her to sleep in private than on the floor right next to a god-like ‘villain’. Y/N was more than grateful, although the room was small. It had a bed and a small nightstand. It was more than enough.

She took a shower, which was much needed and then she finally got under a blanket – the same blanket Thomas had given her. He must’ve taken it from the room. The moment Y/N’s head hit the pillow; she fell asleep. It was as if someone had turned off a switch. She drifted to her dreams with one thought in her mind, would she see Loki again?

 The sound of a kettle whistling on the stove caught Y/N’s attention. She was in an old-fashioned kitchen, sitting by the open window on a blue chair. She took her eyes off the small garden outside and hurried to the stove, taking the kettle off it, careful not to burn her fingers. There were two teacups on the counter with honey in them already. The golden goo had spread evenly on the bottom of each cup. Silently, Y/N poured the hot tea into the cups and then put the kettle away. With a spoon, she swirled the tea and watched how the honey disappeared from sight. It smelled amazing, like lemons and ginger.

Everything felt so peaceful. She was happy, but she couldn’t recall why.

Y/N grabbed the cups and made her way through the house like she had done it several times before. The house was so familiar. Even if there were no lights on, she would’ve surely known her way around. Eventually, she reached a large living room. The ceiling was high and the walls were pale green. On the couch with a book in hand was the man she dreamt of nearly every night. The sight of him warmed her heart. “I made tea,” Y/N told him and walked closer to him.

The man looked at her lovingly, putting his book away as he gladly accepted the hot drink from her. “Thank you, my love.”

Somehow, his voice made her stop in her tracks. He was really familiar. It felt like they had always known each other, but right now it was different. She looked at him and her head began to pound. A pained expression appeared on her face as her headache grew worse dangerously fast.

“Are you alright?” The man wondered. He put his cup away, hers too, and then he caught her hands in his. “What’s the matter?”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she remembered. That was Loki! She realized that she was dreaming again. Learning how to be aware in her dreams was peculiar. It all felt so real, like a memory. “Loki,” She breathed out his name. Why was he acting like that? The last time they met in a dream, he seemed fully aware of his surroundings too. Now…he was different.

“Do you need to lie down?” Loki asked her, clearly worried. He didn’t wait for an answer as he gently tugged her down to sit on the emerald couch. Y/N was in shock as she let him pull her with him. They sat so close and he didn’t let go of her hands. It felt nice, but she was so confused.

“Loki, what are you doing?” Y/N muttered, hoping that he would return to his usual self, whoever that was. This didn’t seem anything like the Loki in the cell.

He burrowed his dark eyebrows together and put his large hand on her forehead. “What am I doing? I want to make sure you’re alright, love.”

Love?

Y/N tried to think why he was acting this way. That’s when a thought summoned her. Perhaps she had dreamt herself into a memory? Maybe all her dreams with Loki were memories? As she looked around, she noticed just how old all the furniture was. The house barely even had electricity! It looked like it was ripped straight from the early 20th century.

She felt chills running all over her skin as she noticed more details. It had to be a memory! She was sure of it. That’s why Loki was acting so strange. But if it was a memory, did it mean they used to know each other? Were they close? It sure seemed that way. Why else would Loki hold her and call her such sweet things?

The longer she thought, the more freaked out she felt. This couldn’t be good.

“Y/N, darling. What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” Loki snapped her out of her thoughts.

By now, she felt tears pricking her eyes. Her headache didn’t go away completely, but it wasn’t that bad anymore. Something was happening to her, but she didn’t know what. She was shocked and frightened. Getting a word out of her mouth felt impossible.

Loki looked at her with pity when he noticed that she was on the verge of crying. Instead of mentioning it, he wrapped his arms around her shaking body and concealed her into a loving hug. Y/N rested against his chest and his cologne made its way to her lungs. It was such a familiar scent and it did manage to calm her down just a tad. When he hugged her, she blinked, and a few tears rolled down her face. The unknown was taking a toll on her. She felt guilty for enjoying this hug. It was the most comfort she had experienced in a very long time.

Loki’s hand rested on the back of her head, pulling her even closer to him. Despite how terrified she felt, she wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck. It felt like a reasonable thing to do.

“I’m here. Tell me what’s bothering you once you’re ready, I won’t rush you,” Loki cooed softly as his other hand drew patterns on her back. Even that felt good.

Y/N swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat as she tried to find her voice. It was a dream, so she figured that she couldn’t do much harm if she questioned this dream Loki. He must’ve been a creation of her lost memories. Perhaps, deep down she had these memories? Maybe this way she could reach them again?

“Who am I?” Y/N whispered, unsure which words she should use. At the end of the day, this was a conversation between her and her subconsciousness.

Loki backed away just enough so he could face her. He seemed deeply concerned. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I don’t…I don’t remember anything, Loki. I don’t even know what I am,” More tears escaped her eyes in a stream down her cheeks. All the pain, the paranoia, anxiety, everything seemed to return to her. The worry she had carried for decades, it was all there now. Feeling it all at once was difficult. It hurt. She hated crying, but she couldn’t help it.

Loki pulled her close again, letting her cry against his chest. When he placed a kiss on the top of her head, Y/N seemed to relax. That was Loki’s cue to speak, “You know more than you dare to admit, dear. Deep down, you’ve always known it. You might think you belong to the place you’re trapped, but it’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

She listened to every word he said. He was right. She had always known she was different than other human beings and at times she believed she wasn’t even human. Could it possibly be that she was something alien? It would make a lot of sense if that was the case.

“If I’m not human, what am I?” Y/N dared to ask him.

“All I can say is that you and I aren’t that different,” Loki replied mysteriously.

Loki was Asgardian. Could it mean that she was Asgardian? How come she didn’t remember anything about it? Why was she on Earth? That didn’t make any sense.

Loki seemed to notice how confused she became. “A lot had happened in your life. You started a new chapter on Midgard and encountered tragedy. It will take time for you to heal and remember but be patient. One step at the same is more than enough.”

Why was Loki being so damn mysterious? Was it him or was she having a conversation with her own subconscious? Y/N felt impatient, she wanted to remember more. She wanted to know more. She wanted to believe, truly she did, but she wasn’t sure if she could. It was frustrating. All she wanted was for someone to be honest and straightforward with her. All of the mindgames were tiring.

Y/N took a deep breath and tried to relax in Loki’s arms. “What are we?” She whispered her question. It made her heartbeat faster, jumping all the way to her throat as she waited.

A chuckle left Loki’s lips. He slid his palm to her cheek, cupping the side of her face so he could make her face him. His handsome face was dangerously close now. “We’re two beings who are destined to find each other again and again…” He seemed to lean closer to her as he spoke. Y/N felt his nose brush against hers and Loki tilted his face. Why didn’t she back off? She blamed her dream state for being so comfortable with this. Her eyelids closed gently, and she felt Loki’s lips on hers. They were soft, gentle, familiar. The kiss was so inviting, and she seemed to kiss him back without giving it any second thoughts. In fact, it felt good to kiss him. Their kiss was passionate and electric. It felt like sparks ignited between them and made her feel happy.

As their lips parted, she found herself wanting more, but she didn’t initiate anything. That’s when Loki spoke again, looking directly into her eyes as he did so, “…and again.”

 Loud knocking pulled Y/N out of her slumber. She groaned, annoyed of being awakened. As she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at a metal ceiling. It reminded her of the enormous helicarrier she was in. The mission, Loki, everything came back to her. That’s when the door opened, and Thomas entered.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but Thor wanted me to fetch you. It’s about Loki.”

Y/N remembered her dream and she felt her cheeks heat up. She had been fully aware in her dream and she had kissed him! Thinking about it now was bizarre. She felt embarrassed and she truly hoped that there was no way for Loki to find out about it. Could the things be true what dream Loki told her? She feared they were.

“It’s alright. I’ll come with you,” She cleared her throat and got up from the comfort of the bed. Her body was still half asleep, but she would be alright. Surely, seeing Loki would wake her up. The thought of facing him after her dream was making her nervous. After she had brushed her hair and straightened her clothes from wrinkles, she was good to go.

They walked out into the corridor, like they had done many times before, and Thomas let his curiosity guide him. “So, you’re an Avenger now?”

“An ‘Avenger’?” Y/N wondered.

“Oh, they didn’t tell you. Right, well this project is called the Avengers project. I suppose the team they put together, you included, is called that which makes you an Avenger. I thought Fury told you that much,” Thomas explained it to her. Even he knew more about this than her. It made Y/N’s gut pinch a little bit. She felt so underappreciated.

“I suppose you’re right. And no, they haven’t told me that much yet,” Y/N answered with a hope someone would tell her more sooner or later.

As they were about to turn to the right, the alarms on the helicarrier went off. Only a moment later, they heard a loud roar from a small distance away. It only took them a few seconds to realize something was horribly wrong.

Someone or something had awakened the true beast onboard, the Hulk.

“Fuck,” Y/N cursed as she put the pieces together.

“This can’t be good,” Thomas seemed just as worried. He had been told to keep an eye on Y/N and that he would do. “Let’s go check if Loki is in the cage.”

That was an odd thing to do when a huge, raging monster was roaming the ship, but Y/N didn’t bother to say anything. She followed him as they broke into a run. In only a short moment, they reached the space where Loki’s cage was.

The cage itself was missing!

Y/N felt nauseous as she saw it. Loki was missing, the cage was missing, the Hulk was rampaging the ship and…

there was a body on the ground. Thomas and Y/N noticed it at the same time, but Thomas reacted to it much stronger. “Agent Coulson!” He yelled his name with worry and then ran towards his bleeding body. Y/N stood there. She could tell that Coulson was gone. The poor man wasn’t moving nor breathing at all. Despite how much she hated everyone working for S.H.I.E.L.D, it was shocking to see his lifeless body.

“Stay with him, I’ll go find the others. Maybe I can make myself useful!” Y/N told Thomas and left without waiting for a reply. Adrenaline rushed through her body as she sprinted through the corridors, hoping to find anyone or anything to do. This could be her chance to prove herself useful.

She nearly reached the lab when a voice caught her by surprise. It was Loki’s voice, “Y/N.”

She turned around swiftly and nearly screamed when she saw the man right behind her. Luckily, she managed to stay quiet as they faced each other. Now without the cage, she felt tense. Although Loki had been nice to her so far, she was still cautious. Besides, he was holding the sceptre! It was glowing yellow as he held it, pointing it at her. Something told her that this wasn’t good. “What did you do?”

“Oh, I got myself out of that cage. I have a job to finish. My offer still stands,” Loki offered her freedom again, at the price of cooperation. The last time, he seemed worried about her assistance. He hadn’t been holding the sceptre back then. He had seemed so much more concerned, frightened even. Now he had a dark look in his eyes, and he seemed excited.

Was the damn sceptre affecting him? Or had this been his plan all along?

“Come on, you can’t seriously wish to stay here. They’re using you for your powers. You’re not free,” Loki was in a rush. He needed to know now whether she would join him or not. Truly, he wished for her to join him so they would be together again. Y/N didn’t want to lose him, because of the answers she wanted to get from him. The longer they stood there, listening to the loud alarms, the more stressed they both felt.

Y/N’s dream returned to her mind. What he said repeated in her head clearly, ‘we’re just two beings who are destined to find each other again and again…and again’. The words somehow made her feel confident of her choice although it was absurd! If they got caught, she would lose her possible freedom. But if they succeeded in this, whatever ‘this’ was, she could get the answers she had waited for, for so long now.

Wishing that she wouldn’t regret it, she faced Loki with a determined expression. “Fine. I’ll join you. But you’ll have to answer my questions.”

A vicious smile spread on Loki’s face. “I knew you’d come to your senses. Now let’s go,” He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him. Yes, Y/N feared diving nose first into the unknown but running with Loki made her feel something she deeply desired. Her body felt alive, her heart was racing wildly in her chest and strangely enough she felt free.

[Ch. 3]

A/N: Your feedback would mean the world to me. Reblogs are stronger than likes. 💕

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[MASTERLIST]

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Prompt: Can I get a first wizarding war fic where one of them is captured by death eaters and the other stops at nothing to find them/get them back safely. Thank you!

((A/N: Fair warning, this is very Regulus-centric. Also, happy Halloween. No one dies, although there are mentions of torture.)) 

James froze in place. He hadn't been moving very much to begin with, but now it was like he'd been petrified. His ears were ringing. It felt like he couldn't breathe. "What?" he managed to say. That couldn't be right-- but then, what else could have Peter in such a state? 

"They captured Sirius," Peter repeated, lips quivering and tears still streaming down his face. It didn't make any more sense the second time than it had the first. 

Getting captured by Death Eaters was as good as a death sentence. Order members didn't make it out from that. They'd get captured, and a week or so later, their mangled corpse would be found. It had happened enough times that they knew the pattern. "No," James pushed past numb lips. No, that couldn't happen Sirius. It just- it couldn't happen. James would die before he let that happen to Sirius. 

"I saw it happen," Peter insisted, even though it was obvious he wasn't in a good enough space to be convincing anyone of anything-- especially convincing James that he should give Sirius up for dead. 

"Then why didn't you stop them?" James yelled, not aware that he was stepping closer to Peter until Lily put a hand on his arm and held him back. 

"They were waiting for us," Peter said, trembling. The more he talked about it, the more nervous he got. It was like it got more real for him the more they talked about it. "There were so many of them- as soon as we got there, they- they-" 

"James," Lily said quietly, and Peter covered his mouth with one hand, eyes wide and horrified; it was hitting him that he was never going to see Sirius again. "I'm sure Peter did the best he could. It's a miracle he was able to make it back here. Sirius was his friend too." 

"He's not dead," James snarled, ripping his arm away and disapparating back to their flat with a loud crack. How could they give up on him so easily? This was Sirius. The Death Eaters had a vested interest in keeping him alive for a pretty long time. They'd torture him, yes, but they'd want him lucid for most of that. When the time came-- if the time came-- they'd kill him slowly, but that would give James more time to find him. He'd need as much time as he could get, especially since he was doing this alone. Peter and Lily wouldn't help him; it was clear that they already thought James should start grieving. Remus couldn't help because he was busy with something else-- and hell if James knew what that something else was-- so he couldn't ask him for help either. 

He could find Sirius. He knew he could, but at the moment, he was so stressed out that his mind was barely working. 

*

He felt so sodding stupid when he finally thought of it that he wanted to bash his head against the wall. Him and Sirius were bonded. They hadn't told anyone about it because it was illegal, and a dark ritual besides. But they'd tied their souls together. It had fallen out of practice when arranged marriages were no longer the norm, but they'd gone through the Black Family library when they were fourteen and found the ritual. 

It had probably been stupid for them to go through with it, but he'd never regretted it and he knew that it was the same for Sirius. They'd done it before they actually got together, which made it more stupid of an idea than it had already been. It made it all that better when they did start dating though, because once they started, they both knew that they weren't going to stop. They'd taken their friendship and moved it to the next level before they'd so much as kissed. Being bonded had slid into their lives so seamlessly that he'd forgotten about it. 

Now that he was remembering they'd done it, he was ridiculously happy that they'd gone through with it before Sirius ran away. He could tap into that bond and find out exactly where Sirius was. He was pretty sure the original application of the ritual was to make sure that neither partner would murder their spouse because there were pretty severe consequences for that, and the book had warned that the other person dying would feel like someone was carving out your heart even if it wasn't by your hand that they perished. 

Point was, James now had a way to find him. There was some spell he'd have to cast to activate it, and the only problem was that he didn't remember it. The book was still in Grimmauld Place, so he'd have to go there to find it. He had better chances of getting inside Grimmauld Place than he did finding Sirius some other way. If it were easy to find captured Order members, they would've been doing it long before Sirius had gotten taken. 

He thought about sneaking into Grimmuald Place-- seriously considered it, because who the hell wanted to risk talking to Walburga voluntarily?-- but it he got caught before he could find the spell, his chances of finding Sirius tanked. He couldn't risk that. So he walked right up to the door and knocked. 

He knew that he looked a touch mad. His hair was more of a mess than usual, and his eyes were probably blood shot and hovering over dark circles since he hadn't gotten much in the way of sleep. He was pretty sure that he was wearing the same clothes that he had been when he got the news. 

Regulus was the one to open the door. He was more grown than the last time James had seen him, but he still looked like a kid. It was good that it was him; he was more of a pushover than either of his parents. "Potter?" he asked, frowning. "What are you doing here?" 

"Sirius is missing." 

"He's not here." 

"No shit. I need a book from your library." 

"We don't have any books on tracking," Regulus said. His eyes flitted down James's body, taking in his appearance. "How long has it been?" 

"Two days." Two days was more than enough time for irreversible damage to be done, but James was really hoping that the Death Eaters thought they had all the time in the world. If they rushed, he wouldn't be able to do anything, but if they were slow about it, he'd make it in time. A week, he reminded himself. The average time for finding Order members after they were captured was a week. Sirius had at least three more days before James needed to worry. Well, worry more. 

Regulus swallowed. He glanced behind himself, then opened the door a little wider. Not much. An inch. James took it as an invitation and pushed it wider, stepping inside. He closed the door behind him and started heading to the library. Any time James had visited here, they'd spent almost all of their time in the library. It had books that couldn't be found anywhere else, and it didn't help that James couldn't remember the name of the book. He knew what it looked like. Him and Sirius had spent enough time staring at it and talking about the possibilities that the particular binding was seared into his brain. 

He heard Regulus follow him, but it was in the background for him. It looked like no one else was in the house, which was probably the only reason that Regulus had let him in. "Do you-" Regulus asked, then paused to swallow again. "Do you think he's dead?" 

"He's not." James would've felt it if he was. He was definitely still alive. 

"Then how's he missing?" 

"You might still be at Hogwarts, but I'm sure you've heard of Death Eaters there." He pushed open the library door. Merlin, he'd forgotten how massive this place was. Assuming that the books hadn't been rearranged though, he should still be good. He remembered which section it was in since every time they'd picked it up, they'd had to put it back where it was so no one knew what they were looking at. He headed over, but try as he might, he couldn't remember which shelf. He started scanning the spines. Faded crimson. Green lettering. 

"He was taken by Death Eaters?" Regulus asked, the barest tremble in his voice. "But- why would they do that?" 

James shrugged, then pulled his wand out and lit the tip. The lighting in this room was truly abhorrent. "Information. Maybe just to make him suffer." 

There was a long pause. James didn't know it was a pause while it was happening though. He thought that Regulus didn't have a good response to that and was going to watch him search in silence. "Take me with you." 

"What?" James asked, startled enough that he looked away from the books. 

"Take me with you," he repeated. 

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. No way." 

"Why not?" Regulus asked desperately, taking a step closer. 

James straightened from where he'd been hunched over to get a better look at the books. "For starters, I don't trust you. Last I heard, you were basically a baby Death Eater, and I don't have the time to waste watching my back while I'm trying to get him out of wherever the hell it is they're keeping him." 

Regulus looked at him evenly. Or as even as he could get when he was clearly nervous. "Is there a second point?" 

"You're underage. I'm not kidnapping you. And third of all, you wouldn't be able to get back to your normal life afterwards if I did let you come. You do something like that, and they'd kill you the next time they saw you. I can't imagine they're very kind to traitors considering how they treat the rest of us." 

"I don't want to join them," Regulus said, gripping his arm desperately. "but I can't- they won't let me say no. Take me with you. I don't care if I never come back." 

James could honestly say that he hadn't expected this when they'd started talking. "What?" 

"Please," Regulus said, and there was no way to pretend like he wasn't begging now. "I know things. I'll tell you everything I know. Just take me with you." 

"You don't know anything important," James said, which wasn't really what he'd meant to say, but he was living off of a two hour nap and about twenty cups of coffee. The filter between his brain and his mouth was extremely thin right now. 

The look on Regulus's face said that he knew that. "Maybe not, but I know something that the Dark Lord doesn't want anyone to know." 

James had a few choices here, and the one that was the fastest was to agree so that he could get back to looking for the book. Besides, he didn't actually want to leave Regulus out to dry. Regulus had done him a favour by letting him come in this easily, and for that alone, James owed him. Even without that though, he'd help anyone get away from the Death Eaters if they asked. And Regulus wasn't just asking, he was begging. "Fine, you can stay at our flat until this is all sorted." They'd have an extra room after Sirius got back anyways, since James had no intention of leaving him alone for eight hours at a time while he was healing. "I'll bring you there before I go get Sirius." 

"I want to help you rescue Sirius." 

"Do you even know how to duel?" 

"I'm alright," Regulus said, but 'alright' by Black Family standards meant wicked good compared to everyone else. He probably wouldn't be able to take on any of the real threats, but James could handle them. Besides, the point of this was to get in and out as quick as they could, not start a fire fight; Sirius wouldn't be in any sort of condition to fight, and with James carrying him, he wouldn't be either. 

"Fine, you're in. But you listen to me. None of that snark you're all so fond of." 

"All?" Regulus asked, dropping his hand from James's arm and frowning at him. 

James turned back to the bookshelf. Faded crimson, green lettering. "Every member of the Black Family that I've met acted like the conversation was a competition. You don't get to do that. I say shut it, and you listen. I say run, and you run. Got it?" 

"Got it." 

"Can you apparate?" 

"I'm too young for a license." 

"That's not what I asked." 

"I can, but the Ministry can track that, and the Dark Lord is basically running that place. You know that, right?" 

James nodded, then moved to the next shelf. "If things go sideways while we're there, you apparate away, and I'll come back for you." 

"If you have Sirius, you won't remember me," Regulus accused. 

"Right, because that's what I want to tell him. That his brother helped me find him, but I left him for dead. Like it or not, Reggie, you're part of the group now." 

"Don't call me Reggie," he snapped. "I've been part of this for thirty seconds; it's not really long enough for you to give a shite." 

"Actually, you were a part of this from the moment you let me in without a fight. I won't forget about you, I swear. In an emergency, you go to Hog's Head in Hogsmeade. I'll come get you." 

There was a moment where he didn't answer, grinding his teeth together. "Fine. If I die because of you, I'm coming back as a ghost specifically to make your life miserable." 

"Wouldn't that make you a poltergeist?" 

"Poltergeists are artificially created, dumb arse." 

"Oh yeah. Glad to see you're comfortable enough to call me names." He moved to the next section. He was close. He felt like it he reached out his hand, he'd be able to touch it. "That reminds me, I hear the 'm' word come out of your mouth, and I'm going to be pissed. We clear? I want to help you, but I'm not going to let you do whatever the buggering hell you want." 

"Relax, Potter, I know how to edit my language." 

"If we're going to be committing questionable acts together, you might as well call me James." 

"Fine, James. What are you looking for?" 

"If I knew the name, this would be a lot faster." 

"I told you that we don't have any books on tracking." Regulus glanced towards the library doors. "You need to hurry up." 

"I could be faster without someone chattering in my ear," James said with a scowl. 

"My parents could be back any minute, and if they find us in here, we're dead." 

"I haven't come this far just to be killed by your sodding mother. They show up and you prepare yourself for sidealong apparation. Got it?" 

"Got it," Regulus said, swallowing nervously. 

James's eyes glanced over the book, then shot back. He yanked it off the shelf to take a look at the cover, excitement growing. 

"Is that it?" 

He nodded, dropping to the ground so he could look through it faster-- holding a wand in one hand wasn't going to help his speed. There wasn't a table of contents because that would be too easy. Merlin, what had it said? This book was separated by the different rituals it contained, so he just needed to find the chapter with the one that they'd done. He started flipping the pages quickly, eyes scanning the words for anything that looked familiar. 

James was strung out. He could admit that. He was having some pretty hard mood swings, which meant that he felt like he was flying when he found the right entry. "This is it!" He started to scan the page eagerly, but his eyes were glancing over the words without comprehending any of them. "Bugger it, I'm stealing this," he said, slamming the book closed and tucking it under his arm. He wasn't going to waste anymore time in this house than he needed to, especially with the threat of Orion and Walburga coming back. His head would be clearer when he was in his own flat, feeling safe-- and not feeling like someone was going to curse him in the back at any moment. "Let's go." 

"I need to grab something from my room," Regulus said. 

"We don't have time for you to pack," James said as they hurried from the library. Would he love to be more sympathetic? Yes. Did he have the emotional space for that right now? No. He didn't have the room to give a shite about anything but Sirius. 

"It's one bad, and I already have it packed." 

"Fine," James said and left it at that even though in the back of his mind, he was wondering how bad it must've been for Regulus if he already had a bag packed and ready to go. He'd think about that once Sirius was back with him, safe. 

Regulus ran up the stairs, and James followed him out of habit. Sure enough, Regulus went straight to his wardrobe, plunged a hand into the back, and pulled out a knapsack. It probably had an expansion charm on the inside, otherwise it would be too small to get him through more than a couple days. They made it outside without any incident. Regulus gave a half-wistful glance to Grimmauld Place before he left, and James apparated them out on the front stoop. 

Back in James and Sirius's flat, James pointed Regulus towards the spare room-- officially, it was Sirius's room, but they'd been sharing a bed since before they ever moved in here-- with the vague direction of, "You can stay in there while he's getting better." 

Regulus gave him a loaded look before walking towards the room. James knew that he meant something by it, but he didn't know what. James opened the book back up, and Regulus tossed his bag in the room. Rather, he set it very gently by the inside of the door like he was afraid the offer was going to be rescinded at a moment's notice. He took a moment to stand in the doorway and really think about the enormity of what he'd just done. He'd left; he'd really done it. He'd never thought that he'd actually do it. 

Now that he'd found the entry once, it was easy to find again. All of the information about the ritual and what could be done with a couple once they were bonded was right at his fingertips. It didn't even take a full minute of reading for him to find the location spell. A map, blood, and an incantation. His own blood was readily available, and the incantation was simple enough. The initial ritual had been rather complicated, but all the spells they had access to afterwards were pretty easy. 

The part of the spell that took the longest was finding a map. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen, but he had to run down to the muggle store at the corner to get a map. By the time he got back, Regulus was sitting on the couch, looking awfully uncomfortable in the flat that he'd never once been in before. 

It was only once James had the map spread out in front of him, wand on the floor and knife in one hand that Regulus leaned forward like he was truly paying attention. "This is blood magic." 

"Well spotted," James said sarcastically. 

"I thought you lot didn't believe in using dark magic." 

"Speak for yourself," James muttered, because he didn't want to admit that him and Sirius hadn't told anyone about what they'd done. He made a cut on his arm and held his arm over the map so his blood started to drip onto the paper. "The whole ritual was dark; we didn't let that stop us." 

Regulus went quiet, leaning back again to watch. It was clear that he had something else he wanted to say, but he bit it back. James was grateful for that; he didn't want to put off finding Sirius even longer than he'd already done. 

*

After everything else he'd done to find Sirius, the act of grabbing him was pretty easy. Regulus got seen, and that was a bit dicey when it happened, but they managed to get out of there before anyone else could show up. James got Sirius back, and neither of them got hurt in the process. James was going to call it a roaring success. 

As much as James wanted to stick Sirius in their flat and hold onto him until they both felt better, he had to bring him to St. Mungo's. There had been so much blood when he found him, more than he'd thought a person could lose and still live... 

He shook his head to get rid of the thought. He brought Regulus to their flat first, because he knew that was safe and it's not like he could bring a newly branded traitor of the Death Eaters to a public space. Hell, he wasn't even leaving Sirius there, and Sirius was the one that could really use the constant care. 

He brought him in, they did an initial sweep to take care of him, and then James brought him home. They told him not to-- requested, technically, but it was obvious that if they could force him to stay, they would. James knew enough to keep him alive after that, but he'd needed to make sure that there wasn't any internal bleeding or summat. 

*

"'m I home?" Sirius mumbled once he woke up. He had one eye open blearily-- the other was sort of swollen shut. He had a thick cut along one side of his face, near his hair line; it would leave a scar when it healed. Right now, it was covered with a bandage, so there wasn't space between Sirius's swollen eye and the edge of the bandage. James knew that eventually, Sirius would be well enough to complain about it, but it would be far enough in the future that it wouldn't be a problem. They'd both be safe. James would be able to kiss him and tell him that everything was okay, and it would be true. 

"Yeah. How do you feel?"

Sirius's throat worked as he tried to wake himself up a bit more. "Alive." He blinked gingerly, his focus roving over to James once he had the presence of mind to do it. "You came for me." 

"Of course I did," James said, smiling softly at him. "And before you freak out when you see him, Regulus is here." 

It took a minute for that statement to make it through Sirius's addled brain, but when it did, he frowned in confusion. "Why's he here?" 

"It's sort of a long story. I just wanted you to know in case you see him." James leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss to Sirius's head. He knew that most of Sirius's body was bruised in some way, but hopefully that hadn't hurt him. "Go back to sleep; you need to heal." 

"And sleeping's the way to do that?" 

"Pretty sure," James said. 

Sirius hummed tiredly, eyes already sliding shut. 

"I love you," James said, and Sirius made a small noise to show that he'd heard him. He probably tried to say it back, but with everything in his system right now, it was something of a miracle he'd managed to talk as much as he had. James kissed his head again, then left to go check on Regulus. Now that he'd gotten a little bit of sleep, he had to deal with that. 

[luffles424]

Lucidity (5)

☼ Pairing: BTS x reader (no pairing this chapter)

☼ Genre: vampire!BTS, succubus!reader, smut, fluff, angst 

☼ Count: 3.3K

☼ Warnings: referenced smut (between Jikook and MC)

☼ Summary: You’ve spent years jumping from country to country, starting countless new lives. Crafting new lives is as easy as breathing for you, lies flowing easily and people are charmed with a simple bat of your eyes. When you meet a witch who offers the idea of opening a supernatural club, using your powers combined with hers to ensure safety to those who enter, you decide to join her in an adventure that is entirely new to you. But your new life in Seoul is drastically changed when you’re forced to face something you’ve spent centuries hiding from. But just because you might be running for your life again doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun along the way, right?

☼ a/n: I’m sorry, I did say the angst was coming though. Promise it’ll get better though. Next chapter will be back to some good ol smut with someone new 👀👀 As always, let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous

You stare at your laundry basket, the clothes inside it taunting you. You’ve washed your clothes more times than you could possibly count. You’ve never been surprised, even when technology made the whole process easier. Puzzled or confused sure, understandable when things changed. But you adapt, you always do. But you’ve never been surprised, at least until now. When your laundry basket sits here half full of clothes that are definitely not yours. You tug them out, sorting the entire basket into yours and not yours. There’s actually more here that aren’t yours. 

You feel a little beside yourself as you start looking through the clothes, noting the large, plain white and black tshirts and massively oversized sweaters ranging from black to pastel. Pieces of clothing that are actually very familiar to you now that you’re looking closely at them. Familiar because you remember taking them off of their owners. But that doesn’t explain why they’re still here. Why didn’t they take their clothes with them?

You sit heavily on your bed, one of Jungkook’s shirts still clutched in your hands, mind racing. You never had people over to your house, especially not often enough to be able to have their own clothes here. Jungkook had been an anomaly. Something about him made you not even think before you brought him back here. Maybe that had been a mistake. You went to other people's houses or to a hotel. Your apartment was your safe space. It feels so bizarrely domestic, having others in your space so casually. Something you haven’t really experienced in this capacity since-

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts. Nothing good will come from thinking about that now. It’s in the past and it’ll stay there. It’s stayed there for this long and you don’t need to think about it anymore. You were fine. You look back to the shirt, a fond smile coming unbidden to your lips. This was actually one of his favorites, he claimed that it was the coziest and he liked wearing it to the airport because it helped with long flights. You told him how you doubted it was that comfortable and he proved you very wrong when he immediately stripped it off to put on you instead. After, he’d fucked you while you wore it and only it. It might be your favorite now too, just for a very different reason than his. 

You still doubt the validity of his statement about it being the coziest, you have much softer sweaters sitting in your closest. At least that’s the reason you give as you glance around your empty room before slipping your tank top off and putting his sweater on. It’s merely to test how it feels without the distraction of Jungkook. The sweater still smells faintly of him, and maybe a little of sex, but it’s mostly him and it makes you feel warm and safe. Happy in a way you choose not to look too deeply at. 

You grab your phone off your dresser, taking a picture of the pile of clothes sat on your bed and send it to the newest group chat with the boys, Jimin now added. 

You: *1 image attachment*

You: Do I look like your maid?

A glance at the time tells you that they’re in practice right now and so you set your phone down and go back to laundry, sorting your clothes, and only your clothes, that need to be washed. You get the first load going, stopping by the kitchen on the way back to grab yourself a glass of wine. You take a long sip when you return, picking up your phone to see you have a few texts waiting for you.

Kookie: NO! that’s not why we left them :(

Jin: what he means is

Jin: we were going to wash them sometime when we were over

Jin: but I can see that you found a much better use for them 😏😏

Kookie: what are you talking about???

Minie: You mean you don’t see it?

Kookie: see what?? what am I missing?? 

Kookie: guys?

Kookie: I can SEE you guys reading these and laughing!

Kookie: tell me!

Minie: say please baby boy 😘

Kookie: only noona can call me that!

Kookie: please 🥺

Jin: look in the mirror

The chat stops there, but you are also confused by what they’re talking about. You scroll back up to look at your picture, looking in the mirror like Jin said to. Embarrassment warms your face as you realize that you’re completely visible in the image, wearing nothing but Jungkook’s sweater.  

You drop your phone to the bed, covering your face in embarrassment even though no one is around to see you. They’ll never let you live this down. Your phone buzzes, startling you and you stare at it as it continues to buzz, meaning you’re getting a call, not a text. You hesitantly pick it up, looking to see that you’re getting a Facetime call from Jungkook. You contemplate not answering, but you know he’ll just keep calling until you pick up, despite the fact that he has practice. 

You sit on your bed, taking a deep breath and chugging the rest of your wine before swiping to answer the call. After a moment your screen is filled with not just Jungkook, but Jimin and Jin’s faces squished into frame as well. You immediately laugh at the way they continually try to push each other out of frame, seeming to have not noticed that you answered yet. 

“So did you call just to make me laugh?”

All three freeze, glancing at Jungkook’s phone to see your amused smile staring back at them. Jin grins back. 

“Did you need a laugh? Cause if so I’ve got a joke-” Jin’s cut off by Jungkook slapping a hand over his mouth.

“This is my call.” He pouts. “No one wants to hear that. Go away.” His attention turns back to you and you see the way his eyes drop like he’s trying to see more of you and if he just moves the right way he can. Well you assume he wants to more so see more of what you’re wearing, not necessarily you at the moment. “You look good noona.” He murmurs with a small pleased smile. 

You huff. Who knew he could be so possessive of someone who wasn’t his to have? “I only have this on because I need to do laundry and have nothing else to wear.”

Jimin perks up then, eyes screaming mischief as he smiles oh so sweetly. It sets you on edge. “I’ve seen your closet and I know that’s not true.”

You pause. You had no idea when he had seen your closet. He’s only been in your bedroom once and there wasn’t exactly time for him to peruse your closet enough to know you’re lying and that you’ve got more than enough of your own clothes to wear. 

You scoff. “When have you ever been in my closet?” All three smirk at you. “What?”

“You’re awfully defensive about this.” Jin comments casually and you tense up. 

You glare at them. “You know what,” you grin evilly, if they’re going to be this way then fine. Two can play that game. “I actually have someone here, so I’ve got to go. Bye.” You coo, hanging up on them before they can get another word in. 

Your phone immediately starts ringing again, but you drop it to your bed with a sigh. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror across from you and your eyes drag over your frame, at Jungkook’s sweater and the way hangs from you. It’s warm, but not the warmth you crave, his scent still clings to the fabric and you’d rather bury your nose in his neck where it’s most potent. You’d rather have one of them here.

You blink, sitting up straight as panic seizes your heart. It’s been centuries since you’ve actually wanted a specific person around you. Especially in such a setting, you realize that the thought that had crossed your mind had nothing to do with sex. You wanted one (or honestly all of them) over just to be together in the same space. No expectations, just companionship. Your mind races, trying to pin down when this happened. When had they gotten so under your skin? Glancing at the pile of clothes next to you then back to yourself in the mirror, you practically rip Jungkook’s shirt off your body like it burned you. It lands on top of the pile and you take a few steps away like it’s going to attack you. It lies there and it feels like you’ve been slapped in the face. How could something so innocuous mean something so dangerous. 

You wrap your arms around your middle, feeling sick. The pile represents something terrifying, you can’t afford to let them get this close to you. The fleeting thought of they should’ve listened to Joon crosses your mind. You grab one of your own shirts before leaving the room in search of a box. You have to fix this before it’s too late, put a stop to it. Something in you feels like it’s already past that point. You shouldn’t have started it to begin with. 

It takes you a few minutes of searching but you manage to find one tucked into the corner of your office. Box in hand, you go back to your bedroom and set it on the floor by the bed. You stare at the pile of clothes, unable to bring yourself to do what you need to do. Your vision blurs and you blink rapidly to clear them of the sudden tears, letting out a slightly hysterical laugh at the ridiculousness of crying over some clothes. You try not to think about how it has more to do with the boys who own those clothes than the clothes themselves. 

You take a deep breath, this is what’s best for them. You repeat that mantra as you methodically fold and place each item of theirs into the box until your bed is cleared of the boys’ clothing. You kneel beside the box, gently touching the sweater on top, it’s the one you’d been wearing just a little bit ago. You feel your resolve start to crumble but you shake your head, repeat your mantra again. You’ve been alone this long, you’ll be fine. You always are. 

But you just can’t tear your gaze from the sweater, and in a moment of weakness, the only one you’ll allow yourself, you snatch it back out of the box and stuff it under your pillow. Your rational mind questions who you’re hiding it from. 

You move to your closet and get dressed for your quick errand. You gather the box, tucking your phone into your pocket, carefully ignoring the multitude of notifications you’ve received since you hung up and consequently had your epiphany. As you go to leave your apartment, you pause at the lock.

Nothing you do will work if they can still get into your apartment. And you don’t want to move, you like this apartment and moving is a hassle. Those are the reasons you allow yourself, only those. Logical ones, not something rooted in dangerous thoughts and feelings. You double back into your apartment, depositing the box on the couch as you make your way back into your office to dig through the drawers in search of the instructions on how to reset your lock. 

Once you finish, staring at the flashing blue light signaling that your fingerprint has successfully been programmed, you feel regret churn in your belly. Their faces the first time they try to enter only to be denied access flashing through your mind. But you can’t think about that, you can’t afford to because you know you’ll cave if you think about that. What’s done is done. You grab your box and leave, heading for your club. 

Ari is in the office when you get there and she’s surprised by your sudden appearance. Her gaze drops to the box, frown marring her features.

“What’s going on?”

You set the box on the ground by the door, nudging it a little with your foot. “Jin, Jungkook, or Jimin will be by sometime soon for this. Can you make sure they get it please?” You studiously ignore the questioning look she’s giving you.

“I mean, yeah of course. But is everything okay?”

You nod. “Yeah, for sure. I just need to get this to them and this is the easiest way.”

Ari looks completely unconvinced. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Guilt claws at your throat. She’s always been so understanding, even when you try to keep her at a distance. “I know.” You mutter quietly. The words feel like ash on your tongue. 

Ari doesn’t press though. She just turns back to her computer. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

You stand there a moment longer. Should you? Maybe telling someone else would help. But then you think of Namjoon, the look of utter disgust and hatred he gave you. You couldn’t have Ari or the other’s do that too. It hurt enough that Namjoon did it, you’re positive you wouldn’t be able to handle that from more people. No, this would be something you have to carry yourself. 

You murmur a quiet thanks to her and leave. In your car, you send them a text. 

You: There’s something for you at the club. Ari’s got it. Just let her know and she’ll get it for you.

After that, you shut your phone off and drive home, struggling to hold back tears. You don’t want to see what they have to say. You didn’t even bother to read the texts that you had missed. Just sent your message and closed the chat. 

In the elevator, you see your reflection and laugh at yourself, you look like you’re going through a breakup. You tell yourself that you’re definitely not. None of you were ever together. You don’t do that. You can do casual. Casual is safe. You won’t stop seeing them, they’re still fun to be around. It’s just not going to be dinners and movie nights and surprises. Just sex and feeding. Maybe dancing at the club but that will just be foreplay. You won’t let them come to your apartment either, not anymore. Hotels or their place only. You can’t let them into your space again. 

You sit heavily on your couch, staring at the blank TV screen, lost in your thoughts for a long while until there’s a pounding at your door. You know who it is even without supernatural hearing. You knew they’d come once they saw the box. You had just wished they’d given you more time. You hear them try the lock and the resounding denial the lock gives them when it no longer recognizes their fingers to grant access is somehow worse than the silence. 

It’s deafeningly quiet for a long moment before they’re all talking over each other. Begging you to let them in, they don’t understand what’s wrong, just talk to them. You wish you could tell them that it’s not that easy. 

You remain silent, hand coming up to stifle your sobs when their calls get to be too much. They don’t stay too long after that, you assume that your attempts to stifle yourself were useless. Jin is the voice of reason. You hear him tell them that it’ll be okay. That you just need some time and they should respect you. Everyone needs some time alone sometimes. He ushers the other two out of the building. It just makes you sob harder. 

You get a blissful week of peace from the boys. You assume that’s all Jin was able to manage because Jimin and Jungkook sandwich you on the dance floor a week after the clothing incident, effectively scaring off the man you had been dancing with. Not that it was really any loss, he didn’t have a good rhythm, more interested in grinding against you than dancing with you. 

They don’t say anything, something which you’re grateful for, instead the three of you move to the music together. Their hands move over you like you’re something precious, like if they move wrong you’ll disappear in a puff of smoke. You tug them closer, Jungkook in front and Jimin behind, letting just a little lust slip out. Not enough for them to fully notice, but enough for them to stop handling you like that. You can’t handle them when they touch you so softly. Their hands grow bolder, far rougher and you let a groan out which only seems to encourage the way their hips and bodies move against you.

Jungkook’s lips ghost along your neck and Jimin’s brush the shell of your ear. “Wanna get out of here?”

You nod, leading them from the dance floor, taking a deep breath of fresh air once your outside. You’re reminded of the first time Jungkook sought you out. You steel yourself to not let this end the same way. You hail a cab, giving the address for the nearby hotel that you have a permanent room at. You ignore their looks of confusion when you arrive, bypassing the desk and getting onto the elevator. Once inside, you tug Jungkook in for a kiss to distract from the questions that you know are on the tip of their tongues. You release him to do the same to Jimin and Jungkook plasters himself to your back to mouth at your neck while you kiss Jimin. You quickly herd them to the room, intent on keeping the distraction going. Lucky for you, they’re very easy to distract. 

It’s still dark out as you slip from between them. Neither stirs from their sleep and you silently dress yourself. You try not to think about their reactions when they wake up in the morning and you’re not there. 

Another week later and Jin finds you at your favorite cafe. He looks mad when he finally spots you and you’re tempted to bolt. His eyes narrow at you like he can read your thoughts and you reluctantly stay put. He’s probably faster than you anyway. He sits across from you and the silence is tense. You hate that it’s your fault that it’s like this. You miss when it was easy silence between you. But it’s for the best.

Finally he sighs. “Can you at least give me something to tell them? Did we do something wrong?” He doesn’t look at you. He looks afraid of your answer. 

You fidget with your coffee cup. What could you say? That you saw how close you were getting and that absolutely terrified you? That you don’t do relationships? That Namjoon was right and they should’ve listened? Nothing sounds adequate enough. You stare at your coffee like it will give you the answers you want.

Jin sighs again. “They’re still young. They don’t understand the shit that you can go through over centuries. If you just need time, tell me. I can come up with something to tell them that isn’t the truth… If that’s what it is.” He glances over at you and you want to cry at the kindness and understanding you see in his eyes. 

You swallow. You hope you can lie to him. “Yeah… I’m sorry. I just panicked a little. I just need a little time to be more comfortable. We can still have sex and feed. Just…” You trail off. 

“Just not more?” He finishes for you and you nod. “That’s fine. I’ll get them to cool it. We’ll just come by the club if we need you then. But feel free to call us if you need us too. We’ll be there.”

He gives you a small smile as he rises and leaves. You hate yourself for lying. You hate how understanding he is. How he’s still willing to do so much for you when you’ve tried to shut them out. Most of all, you hate how much your heart aches as he walks away like this is the last time you’ll see him. 

[fmdhaseo]

ヽ(〃＾▽＾〃)ﾉ  wOoOoOoOow i’m so excited to be here finally!! typically i’m a pretty ~ minimalistic ~ person when it comes to formatting ‘n stuff, but i’ma go a little ham on this introduction because i’m really excited!! ANYWHO, my name’s cheyenne ( but please call me chey ) and i represent the drastically under-appreciated mst. i use he/him pronouns, and for anyone who’s curious, i’m 21+!! i’ve been eying this group for awhile now, but hadn’t joined because of school and work reasons, but my town’s in lockdown, so i finally have a bunch of new time on my hands to write!! now that that’s outta the way though, please love me and my first ever muse here!! her name is jeon haseo and she’s lucid’s main vocalist and lead dancer. in my head, she sounds a bit like wjsn’s yeonjung, gfriend’s yuju, and dreamcatcher’s siyeon when she sings, and when she dances, she reminds lots of people of twice’s mina and her gorgeous face-claim, wjsn’s bona!! she’s a former prima ballerina at a dance company in korea that she was pushed out of due to accusations of favoritism, and even though the board at the school were adamant against said accusations, it was lowkey kinda true lol. her dad is a former dancer that’s received tons of acclaim in the dance world, and it’s said that his name is what landed her all her opportunities in ballet —- whoops!! she doesn’t really know that though, but before i carry on too much, you can read more of my ramblings about her below the cut!! [ youtuber vc ] don’t forget to smash that like button if you wanna plot with us!!

i.  —-  haseo was born in seoul, south korea to a dancer and plastic surgeon, so they had a lot of money to sit on while they raised their daughter. she was brought up in prestigious dance rehearsal spaces, as well as in top-of-the-line hospitals, but instead of wanting to follow in her mother’s footsteps, she decided it’d be more fun to dance like her dad!! she showed promise when she was little, so they nurtured her talents as best they could.

ii.  —-  her childhood really wasn’t all that bad, to be honest, like, she never struggled with making friends, she got everything she wanted, her parents were supportive... what more could she have really asked for, you know? she got along with everyone due to her many interests —- from ballet, to video games, to barbies, to monster trucks —- but that all sorta changed whenever she entered high school. being that she attended a school for the arts danced with a company in their junior program, and had a reputable father, a lot of people started to be really catty with her. she learned how ugly the world could be at a pretty small age, and it’s deffff affected how she sees the world and deals with her problems.

iii.  —-  fast forward to high school graduation, haseo gets offered a spot in a professional company to dance ballet almost immediately. a little sketchy? perhaps, but what’s even sketchier is that she was offered the leading role in her first ever show. vile words spread throughout the whole school and due to the accusations of favoritism, the company decided to terminate her contract rip. she became big sad and almost didn’t dance again until [ spoiler alert ] she was given a chance to audition for dimensions entertainment!!

iv.  —-  she didn’t really wanna become an idol, but she did it anyway because she wanted to dance for a career. she really didn’t even need to have a career with how much money her parents made, but it was important to her to be financially independent, so she decided to stick with it to see if it’d work. long story short, she discovered that she’s a FAB singer, and her long history of dance def helped her standout from the crowd. she trained for two years before her debut, and like, when she was announced to be main vocalist, she literally almost died i think lmao. like, the fact that she was granted main vocal but not main dancer really shook her ass up, but she accepted her fate and tried her best.

v.  —-  the concept changes were a whirlwind, but she likes the more soft vibes that the schoolgirl trilogy gave her. she also thinks it makes better use of her dance skills, but she isn’t really the one in control here now is she? ANYWAY —- her career is blossoming a lot and she’s really excited, but at the same time, she despises that she’s a person of public scrutiny now. she never wanted that to happen at the level that it has, but she puts up with it because she feels she already made her bed, so now she’s gotta lie in it. not to mention that she has some of her old peers from dance starting an online hate group to hate on her, so you know... this isn’t exactly what she had in mind for her life, but she just takes it in stride and hopes that, someday, it’ll make for good stories to tell her grandkids lol.

vi.  —-  i realize that i haven’t really given a description of her personality or her as a person yet, and well, that sucks, so i’ma do it right here, right now!! how would i describe haseo? let’s see —- she’s kinda, like, prissy but it’s definitely more outwardly adorable than it is obnoxious, if that makes sense? she HATES getting dirt on her clothes, she hates having crud under her nails, and she hates when other people lack personal hygiene skills, but she was taught well and doesn’t really voice her harsh judgments unless she’s provoked lol. it also appears to me that she has tons of patience naturally, but is also kind of a hot-head if you actually manage to piss her off, so good luck to your muses if that happens!! she also HATES being woken up from sleep, like, she’ll literally kill you if you do. she’s more than likely gotten into tons of fights with other lucid girls because of it —- whoops!! she’s also SUPER femme, to be honest? she takes way too long to get ready before leaving the house, and almost refuses to leave looking a mess. her hair is always immaculate, her makeup is BEAT, and her clothes are gorgeous, and all paid for with daddy’s card lmao. other than all that though, she doesn’t really fit the “rich girl” stereotype in that she doesn’t act like a snob to just anyone, yk? she’s really open to meeting new people, and she’s a fiercely loyal friend to people she loves, as well as a HOPELESS ROMANTIC [ she’s a taurus, after all ] with her bfs/gfs. she’s also MAD cuddly with anyone, like, she doesn’t give a fuck, she communicates v well with physicality and touch!! if you got any questions ab her, don’t hesitate to lmk!!

[alchemist-shizun]

A song to fix what’s wrong (Take what’s broken make it whole)

Read on Ao3!

Word Count: 4,525

Taglist: @max-is-tired @bookwormscififan

Characters: Cecil, Carlos, (others briefly or only mentioned)

Pairing(s): Are you even asking. Cecilos

Warning(s): Crying, Negative thoughts (not too deep), Blood mention, Death mention (minor), Kissing, Swearing (once, during narration)

and yours truly, heavily projecting

Summary: A review of a relationship, a retelling of a story already told. You know how it goes, all you need to do is … dive into the symphony and let yourself swim around the sweetest and hardest events.

A/N: Me? Putting 4 songs in a single fic? More likely than my fake originality makes you think. Song lyrics used for the fic is the english cover of Fuyu no Hanashi by Nordex, I recommend you listen to it. (Original can be found here.) Alright so this basically leads up to the 70th episode, there might be some references to the first episodes too, let’s say it’s a very tiny review of a large amount of time. There’s a moment towards that is not chronologically put compared to the scene after it but yeah, just think of the points of view as their own little stories. Also the more I wrote this the more I didn’t realize I was typing down some exact feelings and thoughts I didn’t even remember they had. I’m basically connected, help. Well without any further ado, hope you enjoy~

✾

❝ I’d die for you any day My life’s over anyway Lets go to the empty park And talk ‘til it’s really dark. ❞

✾

Just like the snow that won’t completely melt away

I keep with me these feelings deep inside.

Just let me know the words.

How dare he? How could he have done that to him?

Cecil was pacing down the hall heading towards his workplace, with a hand through his hair and a huff forming on his lips.

There was literally no need for him to be able to do that and yet he still had the audacity to turn his heart into a puddle of overwhelming sensations.

He had to come there, with his perfect hair, perfect coat, and perfect being, claim he was a scientist with his perfectly smart words and arguments and ruin the peace for his and the town’s heartbeats.

But mostly his.

The frequency with which his flow of thoughts constantly derailed from his regular ones to the most admiring observations about the scientist couldn’t help but grow with every week he spent in their town.

Cecil was happy to report any news or confirmed rumors about Carlos, anything would have resulted in creating a joyful aura around the recording room. And the citizens were definitely noticing a smile in his voice whenever they heard him talk about Carlos.

It was like a blow of the wind during a blazing hot day in the middle of the warmest summer day. Not only satisfying, but also you don’t realize how much you had needed it until you notice the way it makes you feel so much better.

And the great amount you miss it when it’s gone.

But how could Cecil express that if he yet had no clue of the other’s considerations of him?

Sure, they had talked more than once, he had even left him his phone number, but … there hadn’t been any significant turns since there.

No talk of weekend plans either, sadly.

Should he have just … shoved it all down? What kind of nonsense was that? There was no way he would have succeeded. With so much increasing appreciation, he was only going to explode.

And then, something finally happened.

The voicemails, the ones he had shared with his listeners. The squealing he may or may not have recorded right onto the mic, too.

Out of all people. Carlos had decided to call him.

It was when time had started to stop. Slow down … restart again? He could not tell.

Furthermore, they had even talked on the phone and agreed to meet up the day after, it all sounded like Cecil was finally getting the shift of his life.

As much as he sounded so ingenuous around Carlos. But hey, he was panicking, okay?

It could happen even to the best of the radio hosts who’s able to talk to a multitude of people at once without failing a beat.

He could do this, he had the words.

Should I just close now the door that guards strongly this love?

You’re my everything and now my soul keeps calling for you

There was something Carlos most definitely didn’t notice.

All he had done until then was partaking into all the experiments and research he could have, studying one of the most scientifically interesting places he’d ever been to.

He thought that was all that it was to him.

And yet …

After that one day, he kept going back to him.

They had met, they had talked, Cecil had been certainly useful in giving him some fundamental information on the town and other important contacts he still didn’t have.

It was also nice because … well, with his team of other valuable scientists, it was easier to get lost in confronting each other’s thoughts and hypothesis. With Cecil, on the other hand, he could have done that for hours, rambling about things he loved and his interlocutor probably didn’t understand and still feel like he was listened to thoroughly.

It was kind of endearing when Cecil kept nodding, but with a confused expression adorning his face.

He kept going back, again.

But, as we mentioned, there was something he didn’t notice about himself.

More than often he called with the excuse of using him as a mean of reaching for all the citizens to get the word of a discovery out, or looking for some of their knowledge.

He liked his excitement when Cecil answered.

He also liked his name, he had thought to himself once. It was like a melody.

Nonetheless, he had no idea where that came from. Did he hear that in a musical? About another town … way down somewhere?

Anytime he confronted his feelings, that was what happened. He involuntarily diverted them; his process of thinking had always been pretty fast, so much that his talking was unstoppable during an epiphany or breakthrough.

Eventually, his subconscious would have arisen, slapped him in the face, and yelled at him to face those feelings for once instead of solely focusing on science.

Which finally happened during the attack of tiny men at the Bowling Alley. He knew he was going to put himself in danger acting that way.

There was nothing to fear, huh?

It would have been grave danger too, if the Apache Tracker hadn’t jumped and taken the hits in his place.

This is something that makes you wonder. About your condition, about how you could have died in a matter of seconds if the projectiles had been that tiny bit more to the left.

About your life and where you are now and how it could have drastically changed. It was like a near-death experience. It fueled his deepest impulsive thoughts to burst at once.

If he had died back then, be wouldn’t have finished his research. He wouldn’t have known anything more about the town, anything more about the bizarre happenings around it. About the citizens. About Cecil.

Cecil. He needed to see Cecil, even if it meant ripping him from his desk, he needed the comfort he was sure he could find in him. He needed to let him know he treasured him.

Not many words came, in the end.

They just stared into the distant nothingness, Cecil’s head resting on his shoulder.

And Carlos, who had imperceptibly sighed, finally found the place to smile.

And now I am completely in love

Just walk right now along with me

Through all the ways that we can go

I ask right now: don’t let me go?

Cecil still couldn’t believe he had had a date with the most stupendous scientist he had ever met. He was still baffled by the fact that he had met him at all.

And yet there they were, filled with pleasant food thanks to the Italian restaurant, walking around town with their arms sometimes linked, fingers sometimes intertwining, eyes going to the sky and smiling as they caught blinking lights or each other’s stare.

Wonderful, a wonderful night indeed that couldn’t have ended better. Or so Cecil thought.

Because when he had driven him home, Carlos had hesitated in his seat. Cecil was about to ask him what was the matter, when the scientist turned to face him and leaned forward, placing a hand on his shoulder that was too soon torn away.

Soft lips were placed on his for a brief moment that didn’t even feel real.

Cecil could only stare in Carlos’s direction as he bid his farewell and disappeared behind closed doors.

All too soon.

Were he to be more lucid, he would have probably begged him not to let go in such a short amount of time. He didn’t even want him to go just yet …

Cecil could have even gotten out of his car and knock on his door, wrap his arms around Carlos and never, ever, leave his side.

Instead, he turned on the engine and shook off those musings from his mind. That was when he had realized he had fallen even deeper in love all over again.

With no goodbyes or moving on

Just stay with me wherever I go

Don’t let me be alone

Carlos knew it was disappointing.

Their relationship had been going wonderfully and having distance separate them was one of the worst things that could have happened, especially now that they were so used to living together.

He couldn’t count the times Cecil had warned him to be careful in that Desert Otherworld where everything seemed to work for a reason he was still working on.

He was by Dana’s side one of the first times he had been able to pay a visit as a hologram.

Such a mess had been going down in Night Vale right then, with all that Strexcorp issue to be solved.

Yet, he was still the one to be reminded of mindfulness.

« Don’t worry Cecil. » he had told him, the ringing of his words still clear in his mind. « A scientist is always fine. »

He firmly believed that was going to be true, in the long run. Not too long would have passed before he could have been back.

Loneliness couldn’t be a thing when they still could call each other and digitally see each other, right?

The spell or maybe curse has not been broken yet

I’m still holding the baggage that I had

Just please relieve this pain

It was so hard. So so hard, on Cecil’s part. He couldn’t help but still feel like Carlos was trapped in that desert, never to find or trust old oak doors again.

The more time he spent away, the more Cecil’s mind wandered about other thoughts than what he should have been focusing on.

Focusing was something impossible, at the time.

Everything seemed impossible, burdening, complicated.

Things he loved doing, forgotten. Uncared for. He felt so off any suggestion wouldn’t have been a good enough distraction.

He couldn’t stop the tension in his body, the lingering feeling of restlessness, waiting for something that never came, disappointing himself for dreaming of things he couldn’t obtain just yet.

Yes, obviously, he should have been happy Carlos was going to make the most important breakthrough in his life, but … not having him by his side every now and then was simply painful.

It was as if some kind of malevolent deity had been watching him and laughing by themselves at his misfortune.

And yet, their love seemed to be growing forevermore, not an inch too little or too much, but the exact amount both of them needed. It was soft and enough and they knew, which was everything that sustained them and told them to carry on and store their strongest feelings for the moment in which they’d have been able to finally see each other again.

If only … if only there could have been an easy way to get rid of all the doubtful and unhappy feelings that stuck to his brain.

He didn’t trust himself to be able to get through the days with the same attitude anymore.

Didn’t trust his mind, most of all.

Wasn’t there a service to get read of his thoughts in the most brutal manner for at least a small amount of days?

Hey, what’s our future?

What should I keep on waiting for?

What am I supposed to find in this cold place, let me know?

It was all going so smoothly.

Sometimes it happened. You think you’re doing just fine and then, one day, the world comes crashing all at once.

A multitude of good days eventually results in one of the worst ones of your life and you’re left to think “Where did I go wrong? Why do I deserve this? Do I even deserve this?”

Carlos had been basically running around all day, chasing Doug and Alisha down with their army of giants, who were continuously charging other beings who dared to wander around the limits of their land.

No moment of peace could be found, no place to rest, no listening to him!

It was insane, they still attacked even when their conditions appeared to be grave and unbearable.

The kitchen counter had already been torn to pieces when the group decided to head for the battle again, Carlos resigned to sigh heavily and not follow this time.

It had been much better when Cecil stayed there. Maybe … he should have stayed even later.

What was even bound to happen there anymore? Could he have carried on with his research when he had to tend to an entire army that was there to protect and help him, in their own ways?

Lately in those days he had felt off. The excitement for his work was still there, of course, but the emptiness from when he had woken up still lingered.

Was taking Cecil there a good idea?

Looking outside, he saw the army retiring to his place, some completely covered in blood, some severely injured.

Doubt came in.

For a moment, he tried to ignore it.

He picked up the phone and got back to Kevin’s reporting.

The tears are falling from my eyes

They’re freezing everything inside

How much could someone fool their mind before the world came crashing down on them altogether, on the verge of falling apart and with nothing and none to stop the feeling of impending doom upon them?

It was a question Cecil had been wondering for quite some time by then, in all its varying forms.

And how much longer until the minimal inconvenience was going to break him apart?

He had been … so proud of that painting. Few were the times in which he took one of his works with him at the radio station, they were mostly things that reminded him of Khoshekh.

But then, yeah. He needed to be reminded of happiness. Joy. Carlos. All the feelings that he brought him and never ceased to twist his insides in a pleasant manner.

And as he looked at the painting while sitting at his desk, the more he felt like he could enter that dimension and reach him if he were to brush the surface of the canvas.

His feet moved by themselves: it was the weather report anyway. He had time for some musing; he held his hand out and stretched to the landscape.

Yet, the colors only warmed under his touch. And nothing else happened.

Except for a loud crash against that same wall as soon as he had stepped away from it.

Wide eyes went over the destruction laid upon them, steps still slowly retreating to the desk.

Cecil gripped its surface tight to steady himself. His mind was emptied for a second as he processed the scene in front of him.

Not only was part of the room demolished, but also his painting had completely and inevitably torn to pieces too.

The one that followed was the longest moment of silence Cecil had ever experienced.

Everything was nothing for even a sole instant.

Then, nothing became all he had ever tried to do, because nothing mattered anymore now that fate wanted to delete all the traces of happiness left in his body.

So the first tear came. Then another. And another, another, another, so much that he fell to his knees and his blurred vision turned away because he couldn’t just bear the sight any longer.

He felt betrayal, but not his own.

It was as if, with the work of art, part of his heart had died. Part of his love, denied. Part of them and their relationship, completely discarded.

He had spent so much time perfectioning the details, so long daydreaming Carlos’s gorgeous figure and stopping to think back at how he was dating the best person in the world.

Now it felt like that didn’t happen at all.

He simply wanted to be confident in his own work again. He only needed a goddamn moment to reassure himself when none else could be there for him.

A way not to disregard it all and look for a way to find his peace again.

It was like a gift. He had been so proud …

An hour or so had passed before he noticed the weather report was about to end.

Cecil got back to his feet and headed towards his seat, ignoring the breeze that tickled his skin.

He sighed deeply, his chest aching with every sob that had escaped his lips in the past minutes.

The last notes of the melody echoed within the room, as he wiped the tears away from his cheeks and regained his composure. Not even reporting made him feel better anymore.

When silence filled the chaos around him, he took a few beats to stabilize his voice. His eyes opened and so did his mouth. And the words started flowing.

But he couldn’t hide his torment any longer.

He told them what had happened. He told them of the debris, of the veiled pain, of the safety.

« It’s fine. Yup. Everything’s fine. »

Cecil? Well, he blatantly lied. To himself and all his listeners.

And maybe, for the time being, that was for the best.

Of course, before, once the recording had finished, he broke down again.

Under this beautiful blue sky

They’re just pretending to be kind

« No. » Carlos’s face fell. « No, no, no. »

His eyes searched his lab for a sign of any single object or the smallest of notes that could have been saved.

Everything had shattered to the ground covered in fur, everything had been crushed to pieces and there was nothing he could have done.

He found none.

Carlos let out the breath he had been holding as he entered the room and was met with that disastrous mess.

He forced himself to approach his workplace, his eyes filled with tears over stress, the frustration and disappointment of having lost an entire year worth of research.

All his sorrow couldn’t fit in his chest.

As a hand flew to his mouth, the other trailed over the papers on the desk, staining with blood with every brush of his fingertips.

He felt sick.

He felt sick of blood, sick of fights, sick of distance and this situation he couldn’t bear anymore.

What was even the point of staying when his discoveries didn’t matter anymore? Just for the clear days and nights above him? When he wondered if Cecil’s stars were the same as his?

Carlos blinked back the tears that didn’t have the time to fall.

He found the only blank sheet of paper, picked up a pen, and started writing.

Time passes by and I can’t stop crying out loud just like a child.

Cecil could say … it only got worse with time.

As the weeks passed, as the air surrounding him only got heavier and heavier with every single second weighing down on his whole body, like as if he could literally feel the aging and passage of time on his shoulders, it only got worse.

He did hope and almost believe his vacation would have been of any kind of help. He resisted the voices in his head telling him it wouldn’t have been of significance, like any other method he had tried.

Cecil had spent time with Janice too before that, to see if he could feel again or if he really just had to give up on it all.

It worked for the few hours they were together. After that, the complete void once again.

It wasn’t like the void wasn’t friendly, but … even the closest of friends could grow excessive if they stuck with you the same way the void was doing.

And the emptiness.

And the sadness.

The one that hit during night, or when you’re craving hugs, the one that makes existing an aching experience because all you’d need is comfort but you can’t have it the way you desire.

Those moments in which you seem to cry for no reason when you’re actually trying to convince yourself you have no idea why this is happening to you, but you know exactly what’s wrong deep inside.

But you don’t give voice to your emotions in fear of hurting someone or concerning someone else. So you keep everything in a little corner of your mind and you let it explode at once.

Maybe with silent crying, maybe in an empty room.

Maybe nowhere at all, just in some indefinite time. Maybe it’s not happening.

Or you’re not realizing.

That you’re falling apart in front of your very own eyes.

The two of us have now been torn apart.

Carlos had stepped into the radio station of the Desert Otherworld when a wave of queasiness hit him yet again just like it had earlier that day, after he had turned off the call to stop the masked giants.

Was that … blood? Bones?

He was so tired, so much the once so-called paradise had become a burden itself.

He couldn’t live like that anymore.

He shouldn’t have lived like that at all.

And he convinced himself of this the more his conversation with Kevin prolonged.

An entire year spent away from where he belonged, from whom he belonged to. He needed to remedy that.

Kevin just kept smiling the same way he always did, too wide and too happy to be real. It made it just that tiny bit harder to deliver the letter.

Being aware you’re going to hurt someone else’s feelings wasn’t exactly the most ideal thought.

But there were others he had been hurting while staying there.

He pretended he didn’t notice all those little different behaviors when Cecil had been there.

His hand held a bit tighter, the hugs a bit longer, lips lingering just that much more both of them needed. How he never left his side, how he insisted on those five more minutes before getting up.

And it wasn’t like Carlos was complaining, he knew Cecil was trying to make the most of his time, but he just knew there was so much more than that underneath his demeanor.

He only didn’t have the heart to ask him.

Sometimes, he did capture Night Vale’s radio-waves, a couple of figments of what Cecil reported about the news, the usual stuff, and … his discomfort.

Everything felt wrong ever since he told him to move to the Desert Otherworld.

Then everything went wrong, like a message from a futile destiny ahead warning him about the wrong possibilities, which are always too many to dwell on them instead of taking action.

Which was why, after so many signs that day, he was there to leave that letter on Kevin’s desk.

«Choose not to be sad, Carlos. » Kevin had said. « In fact, choose to be happy! »

That was probably what fueled him to leave even more. He would’ve understood, once he had read through the letter, as painful as it could have been for him.

It was true, he was doing that for his own happiness. There was nothing left of it in there anymore, if not the ghost of joyful memories that were ripped from his hands the moment they ended.

Memories didn’t make you feel with the same intensity of when you experience something.

A quiet melody sang in the middle of the desert’s silent symphony. « Keep smiling through just like you always do. 'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away. »

He was going to change everything. Make one final travel to where he was going to stay. That one thing, he was sure it did feel right.

« So will you please say hello to the folks that I know? Tell them I won’t be long. »

Especially the freedom no longer waiting outside of that utopic land …

« They’ll be happy to know that as you saw me go I was singin’ this song. »

… of when his feet almost basically sprinted outside of the dog park.

And now I am completely in love

and nothing else will matter now

through all the ways that we can go

I ask right now: don’t let me go?

The sense of familiarity and liberation dawned on Carlos as soon as he had stepped into Night Vale after so long away.

Along with it, the anticipation of seeing his lover made a buzzing feeling take over his stomach. It wasn’t anxiety, it was what he learnt to name “that one sensation that makes you fully comprehend what 'I can’t wait’ truly means”.

He was late for the opera, fine with him, anything would have made do if it ultimately led to Cecil.

It was when he finally found himself right beside him that he forgot everything he knew apart from the fact that, yes, he had been completely, fully and ineffably in love with him this whole time and he wasn’t going to deny it anytime soon.

In fact, he was going to take that into account and love him even more if possible, nothing else existed other than his absolute admiration.

« We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day. » he heard a quiet voice sing.

And when their eyes met after such a long amount of time that he felt like he was going to turn Cecil’s head himself, there was no space for rational thoughts.

Therefore, none of them were able to form rational arguments either.

So Carlos went for an embrace he honestly never wanted to end.

A single whispered line escaped his thoughts before he gave word to his musings.

« Please, don’t let me go. »

Their hug grew even tighter.

With no goodbyes or moving on

You’ll always be right here with me.

Together forever.

Words upon words flowed in the night between them, so many Cecil had been hardly able to take them all in.

Right then, though, he knew his earlier uncertainty had now a reason. Everything always had a reason when it came to Carlos. Everything started to make sense yet again.

They talked about all and nothing and the entirety of their situation, but briefly and with sweet resolutions.

It was all starting to be back to normal, and his family and friends were there to make sure it would remain that way.

There was no place to leave.

But to stay.

And that was a thing both Cecil and Carlos could do together, the oblivion they had been living in for the past year soon put behind their shoulders.

The certainty of waking up next to their loved one, the motivation of going through the day excitedly because you may never know what waited for you at home, the comforting of a cuddle pile on a rainy day with your favorite person and your favorite pet.

It was all that filled their minds.

And, for the time being, it was also all they needed.

[kinktae]

The penultimate part🥺 I’m not ready to say goodbye, Bitchin!Jungkook has definitely been one of my fav characterizations of him that I’ve ever read. Thank you so much for sharing your work with all of us💖

bitchin 9 asks bc i suck

sapphireprinces5 said: bitchin’ pt9 was just so beautiful?? the way you explained the emotions and interactions between the characters was just amazing!! I felt myself hanging on every word wow excited for the end but will miss bitchin’ so much 🤧

Anonymous said: TAEHYUNG AND YARA SIGN ME UP GURL!!!!

Anonymous said: Like I just feel like if Jk really liked y/n he wouldn’t have slept with Kiri, you know? It shouldn’t matter that he didn’t know how y/n felt. And it’s obvious that he has feelings for y/n so I just hope that’s something y/n addresses when she talks to him. Don’t settle for less girl! Get you a man who will fight for you regardless 👏 (btw this is not me criticizing how you wrote it in any way! I’m just so invested in the characters and am thinking about how I would feel in this scenario :) )

Anonymous said: I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GONNA HAPPEN WITH YARA AND TAE I FELT IT SO DEEP IN MY BONES IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM 😭😭😭

Anonymous said: Hi! I just binge read bitchin in a day and can I just say that I loved it! I really love the female characters as well, you’ve written them so beautifully 🥺 if I was y/n I wouldn’t be concerned so much about Jk not sleeping with Kiri if he knew the way y/n felt, but rather the fact that if Jk didn’t want to sleep with Kiri, he wouldn’t have, regardless of y/n’s feelings or not. IMO y/n’s feelings shouldn’t be the issue here, but Jk’s should! If I was y/n’s bff that’s what I would tell her LOL

Anonymous said: OH MY GOODNESS! YES !!!! YESSSSS Y.E.S Muchas graciaaaas!!!

Anonymous said: tae and yara are my new ship)

unknowntalesx said: okay but like tae and yara thooO they got me all smiley being like oh yeah bayyybeEE das what im talking about 😏 ALSO OKAY NOW THAT I AM MORE LUCID KIRI GOT FUCKING WRECKED I LOVED THAT SHE GOT A DOSE OF HER OWN MANIPULATIVE MEDICINE I AM 😤😤😤😤😤

Anonymous said: im not ready for bitchin to end )):

Anonymous said: I SCREAMED WHEN Y/N TOLD KIRI THE TRUTH. YES QUEEN. STAB AND TWIST THE KNIFE!

Anonymous said: ROSE AHHSHSJSKSD FUCK U I’m all hot and bothered with anticipation for pt 10 now 😩😩😩🥵

sydney--chan said: We really stan y/n for using her big ol brain to rock kiris world oh my god I yelled also I say what's your damage all the time bring that shit back

Anonymous said: a tae x yara spin off series or one shot...... haha jk..... unless..... 👀

Anonymous said: Fuck kiri's scheming ass. I'm glad YN ripped her a new one

Anonymous said: AAHHHHHH once again, I love this chapter so much!!!! I was screaming at Yara and Tae part. Seriously!!!! I am SURE she felt that spark when he kissed her. Is she going to be the one falling for the guy while he wants something casual now? Or maybe Tae will fall for her as well? Ahhhh so cute! I feel like that would be a nice spin off yk (no pressure, I swear). And Erik, woah I didn't expect him to be like that. To be so nice and wise. Great character development indeed! It was really nice (1/2)

Anonymous said: To see their interaction and the way he opened her eyes (for some reason I couldn't help but picture him as Namjoon). Ohhh the Kiri part tho!!!! I felt really petty but in the best way lol. Anywaysss I am really excited for the last chapter (really sad too) and I am sure it is going to be the best because you are a genius! Thank you for sharing another amazing chapter with us! ♥♥♥ (2/2)

Anonymous said: OKAY I absolutely adored Bitchin part 9 😻 I always thought that it was also OC fault for what happened between her and jk, he obviously was the main jerk but she never actually admitted her feelings to him and he doesn't read minds so??¿¿? Really loved that she came to understand it. And I was rooting SO MUCH for yara and tae MAN I AM CRYING THEY DESERVE IT 🙌🏻

Anonymous said: you came through with the tae x yara content we all needed omg thank you!! if anyone’s gonna make yara fall in love it’s tae lol

Anonymous said: I honestly lowkey hate bitchin’ jungkook right now. I thought I’d get over it but I just can’t imagine how hurt and disgusted Y/N was when she found out that jk and kiri were together just hours before they were like ugh. It doesn’t help that I’m also really interested in Erik’s character development now so it would’ve been really interesting to see how he’d fit in Y/N’s life. 🥺

Anonymous said: jungkook and y/n wANT what yara and tae have

Anonymous said: TAEYARA YES FINALLY OUR WISHES HAVE BEEN ANSWERED 😍😍

Anonymous said: just want to let you know you’re an absolute angel and all you create is nothing short of perfection. *sends you all of the love*

spring2787 said: I jus came from a 4 hour long class and it's finally here... Thank you so much dear 🎂 💜

Anonymous said: Is yara me ? Like when she said that boy act like they understand the no string involved but then fall in love , dude I felt that , that's literally the story of my life lmaoooo Like the number of time a dude told me yeah I'm okay with that and then acted shocked when I told him I didn't feel anything for him is impressive lmaoo Anyway I'm so eager for the last chapter!!!! you did an amazing job!!

kuhweenbri said: The way I already finished but anyways girl I absolutely loved this part and now I’m excited for the next part 😭😭 will we be seeing more of T-ara??

Anonymous said: OMG YARA AND TAEEEEEEEEE. NOW I UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU MEANT BY FANSERVICE. JSJSJSJJSBXBSBSB But on a serious note, this fic just keeps on getting better. The fact that there's only one chapter left still hasn't come home to me 😭 but thank you so much for blessing us with this!💜💜

Anonymous said: YO! bitchin is flippin brilliant! you have done so well! jungkook broke my heart in part 9! im emotional but also so ready for part 10! please take your time. have a lovely day

Anonymous said: i don’t normally talk to writers on here but bitchin is really bitchin, i haven’t read a fanfic in so long that makes me excited to read the next part and maybe it’s because i’m so used to all of the aus being recycled but bitchin is truly a breathe of fresh air to me for some reason, maybe because you fleshed out the right hand mans for both characters idk or the it being a different time period, but i just wanted to say you are smashing bitchin dude and i love it!!

shy-kpop-girl said: BITCHIN': I just caught up on 8 & 9. Shocked & angry at JK. Because regardless of whether he knew y/n' feelings it was a dick move to sleep with Kiri one night and y/n the next morning. And it wasn't like he came over to talk/tell y/n about Kiri & things escalated because he went right at it as soon as she let him in. Even tho it was hot. 😳 But Erik. I wanted to hate him but dude surprised me with his reasoning. I loved that dialogue! Once again your writing is amazing & I love this story!

Anonymous said: Bitchin is the best fanfic on tumblr. And no one can change my mind. You’re doing amazing!! Much love xoxo

Anonymous said: “Think of life as one big puzzle and everyone you meet is shaped differently, right? Yet somehow… they fit. We find those that complete us. And they’re not necessarily opposites but—“ MAAM that part hit SOOO different omg your brain!?! Outta this world! Like this is whole ass literature!!!! I stg Bitchin’ is the best thing on this app and I meant that w my whole chest.

Anonymous said: I'm not ready for Bitchin to end. It's soooooo good 😍😍😍

kmultifandom said: Since there's a cast for bitchin I wanna audition for y/n because i wanna be a biologist and I have some similar personality traits *mic drop* Also great work, I seriously love it. No other fan fiction I have read was so close to my actual self and that impresses me even more and make it like it 10 times more djksksks

Anonymous said: how will I live when bitchin ends agghhh I haven’t even read 8-9 cause I’m waiting for the happy ending before I’m heartbroken and left waiting for the last part

Anonymous said: you know what would be super fun and crazy 😛😛🙈🙈 if you dropped bitchin’ pt 10 right now 😳😳 haha just kidding .... unless 😏😏

Anonymous said: lets gooooo!!!!!!!!!!! bitchin pt 10 better haunt me for the rest of the year

Anonymous said: I feel like I’m going to get so emotional once Bitchin’ part 10 is released. It’s like I’m sending off my non-existing kids to university because I won’t be able to see Bitchin!Jungkook anymore 🥺

Anonymous said: I can’t believe Bitchin’ is for real ending 😩 it’s soo gud 

Anonymous said: Can’t wait till bitchin PART 10 Probably gonna fall asleep before u post but I’ll try to stay up for it 🥺

Anonymous said: i love your writing honestly and i just really want you to be happy. your writing is immaculate and i really want you to know that you are talented and skilled so yeah. sorry if this is out of nowhere but i just really want to show appreciation to writers because they don't get enough and you are definitely my favorite writer:)) hope you have a good day!!

Anonymous said: okay but if Bitchin' goes on for 50 chapters that would be good too.. just sayin'.

tpo-quinn said: Bruh, I can already feel that I'm gonna cry from the last chapter of bitchin'...I CAN'T WAIT!

leojjeon said: so i've re-read bitchin ready for chapter 10 an I am feeling all sorts of emotions. it's fair to say it's my favourite series I've read!

Anonymous said: y did i forget bitchin would have an end like 😳😐we’ve been on this bitchin journey w u for so long i’m sad it’s over

Anonymous said: What what what?? Bitchin is ending??!!! Didnt it just fucking start like all the drama and tae&yara!!!! Omg girl!!!

Anonymous said: ur the absolute fucking GODDESS of writing angst, ive never ever waited for a ff to be updated before as if it was a new episode of my fav show coming out. thank u for writing and be so active, muah ur amazing

Anonymous said: a moment of silence for our loved bitchin who will die soon 😔 gone but not forgotten, she will always be in our hearts. all the best rides come to an end 😭

[ofindcmitability]

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M, F/F Fandoms: Legacies, Charmed, Asphyxia Characters: Lizzie Saltzman ( @geminislegacy ), William Halliwell ( @ofindcmitability ), (mentioned) Hope Mikaelson ( @chosenlonely​ ), (mentioned) Landon Kirby ( @frcmashes ).  Additional Tags: #thisisomseangstyshit #depressing themes #love confession #different sort #really sad??? #gooey #emotional #hurt/comfort #angst #emo #umayhateustbh Language: English

lizzie saltzman

the adrenaline and energy she has previously channeled into keeping hope steady on her feet has officially burned out. she knew she had to be the strong one, the pillar, the one with a smile and an optimistic view ( an inheritance from her mother, perhaps ), but this can't last forever. when she left hope's room, without the hair straightener but with a ton of other issues in her pocket, she felt like an exhausted battery. but, most importantly, she felt a pungent taste in her mouth. it's no coincidence her immediate desire was to seek will out. perhaps for comfort, perhaps for an easing of her conscience ( he has to know this ;  he has to ). she has a key now, so she ventures to his place before he gets there ( it's not the first time ). it's not a long wait, but it's enough to leave her alone with her thoughts for a while, just sitting on the edge of the bed and staring into the airy nether. the sound of the door reels her back into reality ( and she realizes only then how deep has ponder has been ). " hey, " she greets, rubbing her palms along the jeans donning her knees. a pause, as she considers her options. she decides that a) she definitely wants to talk about it ( say the things she couldn't tell hope because it would only break her more ) and b) that, once again, will deserves to know. but ...  she doesn't want to do it the direct way, like she's ripping a band aid off. " busy day? "

william halliwell

they didn't typically plan plan dates. sometimes, if it was something special, they did. typically, however, they'd run into each other and decide to do something. whether it was netflix and chill, or netflix and chill. they'd go for walks, she would cook and he would watch--- he'd draw her sometimes ( not too often, and he hadn't yet to show her-- not ready ). but yeah, lizzie and him had an endless list of things to do together and will always enjoyed them. always enjoyed her. it was funny how they could talk for hours straight and how the words meant so much. she was the second person to make him feel more, the second person to give meaning to him, to give feelings tangled with the name of william flynn halliwell. and now there were more. harlow, claudia, landon, even hope ( though there was still distance between the two ). he'd been happy when she graciously accepted the key, but he hadn't expected to find her in his room ( their room, a voice in his head spoke ). "hey..." he took in her state because-- well, he knew her well. "you okay?" a question he knew the answer to before being spoken, though he didn't know the how or why. oh uh, busy day. "not really. just... magic school. same shitheads as usual." the preppies, the gangbangers, and the loners ( and yes, will was one of the loners ).

lizzie saltzman

she stands up the moment he greets back, her own dour mood faltering in favor of a very small lift at the corner of her lips. it's a small yet meaningful comfort to know she doesn't even need to say anything. he reads right through her, as she reads through him. " long day, " she utters, dragging her feet over to him and enveloping her arms around his torso. " aren't you one of those shitheads? " it's a loving jest, mumbled as she rests her head into his shoulder. she lets herself bask in this brief comfort as she examines the word options in her head, how to go about this. in the end, she decides to just let it flow. " something happened today. " she pauses, unsure of whether to mention the croatoan too. she decides might as well. " some monster attacked hope and i. " she pulls her head back, hands loosely resting against his arms instead. " you spill your greatest secrets or you die, i guess. " she filters the reveal through her mind before, brows knitting as the realization ( still puzzling ) hits her again. how ...  flabbergasting it is. " hope ...  is in love with me. "

william halliwell

he lets out a small chortle are that. yes, he is one of those shitheads. however for different reasons then the previous listed. he was a shithead because, somehow, he was lucky and had gotten everything he ever could wish for and things he couldn't even have believed in his arms. a arm slid around her shoulder as her head curled perfectly into him, and he was holding his very own world right in his arms. "that's descriptive." he jested at her, trying to lighten the mood just a bit despite the demeanor of hers that spoke volumes without the words. "are you guys okay?" concern lit in his chest, he pulled away from her to get a better look at her. her face, her skin, no scars, no pain. a hand traveled to her cheek and he had to repeat. "you're okay?" needed the confirmation. "and hope too--- she's okay?" he didn't know hope too well, not in the way he knew lizzie and landon. but, he wanted to. she was clearly important to them both. it mattered. "greatest secret... ?" that was a bit ominous. oh. his mind processed such information, a wheel usually turning now disjointed and short circuiting. "landon." he said, and maybe it wasn't right that was his first thought but will couldn't help it. he didn't know much of what to feel, he didn't know how lizzie felt ( and honestly, he was scared to. how was he supposed to compete with a hero when he was practically the epitome of a villain ? ). "i thought hope was with--- i thought she loved--" lots of thoughts, so many questions. "are you-- are you okay?" he asked, back to his intial train of thought before the reveal. "how do you... how do you feel?"

lizzie saltzman

there is a small sigh that pushes past her lips as his hand reaches her cheek and she recognizes that scouring look all too well. it's a content sigh, really, because, yes, she can handle herself well enough and she can definitely handle malivore monster of the week #53 ( if it was malivore related ). but ...  the concern is nice. being that cared about is so very nice. " we're both okay. don't worry about it. " there is a lift of a small smile, a bit of a cheeky attempt to it, as her fingers slide into his hand on her cheek and wrap around it in a reassuring grip. " only hope's door suffered damage. " she's usually much better at lightning the mood, she knows ;  but it's hard now, with her emotional weariness and all. her gaze is glued to his face as she awaits the reaction, drinking in every single shift and twitch. he seems confused. of course he does. ( she's in parts still confused herself. ) " pretty sure she still very much loves landon too. " pretty sure. they didn't specifically talk about that, but ...  she knows. her glance dips, mouth opening and closing as she searches the right answer. there is no right one, she decides. " i feel like ...  i could nap for a few days. " shoulders square in a shrug of faux nonchalance and when she finds his eyes again, she feels more confident. " i don't feel the same way, if that's what you're wondering. " which ...  he must be. " i just know she's -- she's my best friend, and she's hurting, and obviously i'll never, you know ... " a sigh, heavier. " ...  give her what she needs. "

william halliwell

"i'm glad." the words fell from his lips and he meant them, he would continue to mean them despite what was coming abroad. he liked her smile, even if it was the small kind. the only expression he disliked upon her was when she red eyed and tear stained. but even then, the tears made her eyes clear and lucid. the puffiness was cute. he was sure thinking that was a bit of a bad thing, but he meant it in the best of ways. the grip she held was something reaffirming. it was strong, it was something he held onto because he did, he believed in her with every last bit of his heart. a small chuckle at such words. "i'm sure you guys could fix it, badass witches and all." well, tribrid and siphoner but close enough ( he wondered, just how did he come to know of this world so well when he hadn't known what a siphoner even was mere months ago? ).. a slow nod of his head as she spoke of hope loving landon as well. "that's..." there wasn't much of a word for it. it may have been easier for landon if she didn't still love him. that way it would be easier to depart, to look anew or cut ties. maybe it'd hurt his best friend a little less ( did he even know yet?? ). he wondered, if perhaps, his attention should lay in different details. if, maybe, he should be more focused on the one affected that stood right before him. who was gripping his hand to remind him that she was there ( yet still, she felt so far away ). it was like... that feeling when you've sat for hours and finally get up. except, it was his jaw. his jaw, curving into a smile despite the change of everything only moments prior. "i've done that before." though, it wasn't the best thing for him. it was when he just... couldn't do it. when thing became too tough, and suddenly eating and moving and being a person felt like too much. it hadn't occurred in quite a long time. it was something that happened in period when wyatt initially saved him. it was the first time, in a long time, the idea felt so appealing. "it was." he said and the words felt too still. he felt cold, like snow slumbering on his skin. he wondered if he looked as pale as he felt. he wanted to ask more, he wanted to hear more explanation. there should of been relief in his chest but all he could think was if you don't now, when will you?. she loves him, he knows she loves him but--- but. her reassurance felt dull upon his ears. this was stupid. not hope's feelings, those were valid. but the fact her words fell upon dim ears. that as she expressed them he felt like they were wrong. she had the option of hope and she remained with him?? it didn't feel right. ( it was funny how confidence could be shattered so swiftly ). "and you're..." his throat felt dry. "you're positive... " that you won't fall for her? that you can't? that i'm enough?

lizzie saltzman

maybe it's too much to hope that the air around them could remain just the way it is. odd, and a bit awkward and tense, but tranquil nonetheless, like there is a nonchalance to it all, like it's not a big deal. to her, it isn't. to them, it shouldn't be. her greatest concern is how hope will go on, hope landon will feel about this, whether or not SHE will end up being the reason why the two of them fall apart and hope ends up alone and with nothing. there is a small furrow in her brow when he says he's done that before ( she wonders, for a forsaken, terrible moment, if he slept for days on end after she rescued him from that pit of torture ) and then when he confirms the obvious: he did wonder what her feelings were. she expected it, she truly did, though she doesn't know what to expect beyond that. she finds that this unknown is gripping her chest and twisting it in its fist, like she's awaiting for a vase tipped on the edge of a table to fall and break. she doesn't even know why, but as she looks at him, stares at him, with a care and intensity she never looks at anyone else, she feels like she can't breathe. and not even in the good way, the way he sucks oxygen out of her lungs when he kisses her, or tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, or tells her she's beautiful. he looks ...  wrong. and, suddenly, she feels pangs of anxiety buzzing and whirring. .he's doubting her. the way he speaks, the way he can't even finish the sentences. there's a look in his eye she hasn't seen in a while and yet, here it is, with her being the summoner of it. when she swallows, there's such a big lump in her throat it almost hurts. " do you really think i could? " not would. could. her voice is small, resigned. resigned to this being the utter truth. her arms come to brace at her own frame, like she's feeling a cold sweep through her bones. she feels like she could cry. but it's fine. she's just emotionally worn out. ( it's not helping that she was right, after all. maybe she hasn't been enough. maybe she hasn't proven well enough just how much she loves him. he's right to be unsure. he is. ) " will-- " the pause is only so she doesn't end up choked up by tears again. it's how she communicates best. but maybe she needs to work on words more. " will, if you're ever gone-- " a horrible thought already and she feels herself overwhelmed by it alone. " --i don't know if i could ever love someone again. do you ...  do you think i could do that while you're still here? " this one betrays her. it betrays the hurt and the almost offense she feels at the suggestion.

william halliwell

they weren't broken. it wasn't--- there were no strong to be shattered so easily. but, what had been perfect sculpted glass now had cracks. and it may have been her who spoke the words that changed their atmosphere but it was him who took that hammer and made them, he knew. cracks that he never thought would be possible for them, now were aligned in his very heart. it was scary to wonder if you were going to shatter.. he hadn't slept willingly for days since lizzie came into his life. even when he was bedridden he didn't sleep, he thought, he watched and he dreamed. he thought of how he endured all that pain and his rescue was miraculous. he watched tv, suggested tv shows from lizzie and feel better movies. and he dreamed of his she held his hand, of how she cried with relief, how the feelings they didn't even understand were burning at the surface and ready to hit the brim. she stares at him and he found himself waiting for the oh. i mean... or the actually- even the i'm sorry, will.. maybe he couldn't trust that she'd be his choice ( because truly, how could anyone want him when he was so tarnished and damaged? ) but he did trust she'd be gentle about it when she put him down. ( put him down, like they referred to the death of an animal. put him down, the heartbreak of william halliwell. ) he wondered if they'd remain feeling that same static between their heartbeats even if the futures hidden behind their eyes were different ones.. it wasn't even accusation. at least, he didn't think so. "i don't think..." he struggled with those correct words that didn't exist. "i just... " eyes connected to hers. "i don't think you'd ever purposely hurt me. and i don't think hope would hurt landon but-" a deep breath. "you can't help what you feel and she- no, i--" how could he explain how he felt when the emotions felt like they were going to drown him? "i don't think you would hurt me on purpose, but i think--- maybe you should. if hope is an option and you feel--" he felt sick saying this. "lizzie, she is so much better then me." the words were dreadful but he meant them. she spoke, and he listened. and her words felt like heavy gasket to his stomach. RELIEF strut itself over him, like he'd been biting down breath and suddenly he could BREATHE again. it was simple, but not so simple. it was a lot of things, frankly. all too much at once, if he had to admit. it'd been quite a bit since he felt himself so emotional in the worst of ways. with her form, all her radiant beauty, being blurred behind the water gathering in his eyes. they weren't running, they wouldn't fall, but his eyes were glassy with them. with sweet relief enveloping in such a warm of embrace. "i'd want you to," maybe not the right words, but whenever did he say the right thing? "i want you to be happy, lizzie. so bad. with me or without me--- " and then it cut, a small laugh despite the rawness of his emotions. "preferably with me, if you still want me." because, he knew. he knew. he'd always want her.

lizzie saltzmanYesterday at 9:05 PM

she doesn't like it when he can't muster the right words. she doesn't like it when there is something imbued with fear anywhere in him: in his voice, in his eyes, in his demeanor. she remembers that time at the library, between the flames of a ring of fire, when she saw the first glimpses of dread in his eyes, brimming with tears she couldn't quite understand back then. they were her driving force to go through hell and back to get him back. because, outside of wanting him back, she wanted him happy. as simply as that. because happiness made itself into a luxury for him, it seemed. he starts to string words together and she feels like she's waiting for a storm to come hit her. much to her shame, perhaps, when he talks about hope and landon, she finds it that she doesn't care. not in this moment, be it damned to hell. she and will are wavering. for the first time in so long. she can only care for so much at once. she even finds herself impatient for him to get to his point. because there is one, she knows. and looks like she was right. if hope is an option. a breath quite literally hitches in her throat, arms unfolding and falling by her sides in pure and raw shock, unhelped by the continuation that follows. " are you-- are you kidding me?! " yes, she's angry. angry because she doesn't understand. because he seems to be blind to himself, enough to get him to push her into hope's arms ( for a bliss fabricated in his own mind apparently ). .she's angry because he doesn't see himself the way she sees him. " maybe i should what? give it a shot? " the fact that he can't say this himself only proves he doesn't entirely want this either. ( screw you to hell, william halliwell. ) " she's not better than you for me. " this time, it's calmer. spoken with a shaken head. in mellow heartbreak -- for him. " no one is. why can't you just see that? " she moves just slightly closer, taking his cheeks in her hands and running her gaze along the creases of his face with so much adoration still. " everything i've learned ...  i've learned from you, will. about bravery, about sacrifice, about how to do the right thing, even if it costs you. about honesty, about bettering yourself, about strength. about love. " her thumbs stroke at his skin and she lets a smile on, at least, tearful because she is, oh, so sad. that he feels this way.  " i didn't know what love is until i've seen a dumb boy throw himself to the wolves to bring me out of the fire. it wasn't hope who did all of this. or anyone else. it was you. you might not be a hero, but you're my hero. " a sigh, her eyes shutting tenderly as she reaches her forehead against his. " you saved me in so many ways, will. of course i still want you. i'll always want you. mind, body, soul. you're my fiance. " she pulls back just slightly, just enough to find his eyes again. " my future husband. i want to marry you and have a family with you more than i've ever wanted anything. i love you. "

william halliwell

he didn't have a death wish. he didn't. it something he's considered more, not wishing for death but the fact that maybe it was there. before ultimately, he decided, no, he did not. it was more like... there were so many better then him, so many who deserved life more then he did. he didn't have a death wish, he just knew there were so many others who deserved better then him. and in that better came LIFE, happiness, things he struggled with feeling he deserved. then there was lizzie. the person who changed everything. slammed down his walls and shattered his protection from the world. she made him happy, and it was so easy to be swept up and away with it that he forgot to think about if he deserved it or not. even now, he struggled to know. he knew what landon, wyatt, claudia, lizzie herself, they'd all say the same thing. and as much as she meant to him, those reassurances would always feel false. and it was something he didn't know how to fight. she was angry, rightfully so frankly. usually anger looked sexy on her. in this moment though, it filled him with shame. "i don't know." his tone was hollow, unsure. he didn't know what to think, to think about. "weigh your options?" the wrong words, ever again. yet the words he continued with. "lizzie, she's better then--- and maybe you don't realize that now but you will, someday. and i'd rather..." he'd rather get that heartbreak out of the way now, if he could. rather then three months down the line when she remembered he was xion and she was, literally in all senses of the word, hope.. "it's not for you." no, it was. wasn't it? he was confusing himself. "i just mean-" what did he mean? "yes," because she was right. "for you. for anyone." a swallow, choking on his own pain and hurt because she had to come first. "i mean that she could probably make you happier, safer, then i ever could. the first thing you told me about hope, she's a hero. and i-" so many things he could say, instead he cut the words off. "i'm sorry." because he was hurting her, because he was hurting himself, because all of this hurt so fucking much. it rippled, without control. and will hated it, frankly. the lack of control. a tremble in his hands as he wretched it from her grasp and to cover his face that was swollen red. fuck he hated to be seen like this, hated her seeing him like this. "i'm sorry. he repeated again and didn't even know for which part. then she spoke, and somehow he was able to listen. her thumb stroked his cheek and he wanted nothing more then to melt into such touch. let that feeling fall upon him for eternity. she spoke about him and he couldn't help but feel like she was talking about someone else. she saw him in a way he couldn't see himself and will didn't know how to feel about that. it was scary. maybe because she believed it, or maybe because just  maybe it was true.. you're my hero. those words like embers to his heart, and giving it heat and warmth and FIRE to make him feel alive. "you're the one who rescued me, remember?" it was a joke, but also not. lizzie rescued him from his father but from more. she burned down all those icy walls he had and made him into who he was today. she left a brand upon his heart in such way that everything he was today, in this moment, and forever more-- it would be stapled by lizzie saltzman. their foreheads met and his stilted breath finally drew even. “we save each other,” he continued. “we’re a team. you and me.” they were, and maybe it wasn't the most fitting word but it felt right to him. it brought him back to that night, when they first kissed. when there were fireworks in his very soul. he felt choked up as she continued, but in a way that wasn’t too bad. a way that was kind of excellent. “i love you too. with every bit of my heart, soul and being. it’s you, lizzie. it’lll always be you.”

lizzie saltzman

despite the fact that she's feeling the anger in her bones, not subsiding and actually growing, she doesn't let it implode over. she can't be properly angry at him ;  it's not fair. it's hypocritical. because, truth be told, looking at him, she finds some sort of a mirror, with a crooked reflection contorted in the claws of dark insecurities. a broken mirror. the reason that rage doesn't take root, not truly, is because she finds that----- she understands. and when he's on the brink like this, she refuses to push him over. " will, " she begins, jaw tensing in an attempt to keep her own steadiness, voice firm but not unkind, " i love you. but you don't think for me. you have no idea what the hell i'm gonna do someday. only i do. " and she's made it abundantly clear what that future looks like for her. ( she knows it's hard for him to swallow that, though. she does. they're chased by the same monster. ) " and you don't get to tell me what makes me happy. she's not better than you. i tried getting close to her years ago and she kept pushing me away so much until i just gave up and realized it would never work. it never would. i'm tired of being pushed away and having to leave with the fear that someone is going to run off at the smallest obstacle. " a pause. a consideration. she decides to continue. ." like you are right now. " ouch. her chest feels heavy and she finds herself gathering poignant tears in her eyes. not really because she's hurt ( she is, but not that much ), but because she looks at him, sees him so disheveled, and realizes she hasn't been able to soothe him. that she's failed him. he almost feels rambling, another pattern she knows all too well. his hands move to his face, he looks like he's crumbling and she finds that there is a lone tear that slips down her cheek. " it's okay, " she assures, reaches again, moves his hands away because she doesn't want to shy away from him even when consumed by his demons. " it's okay, i understand. " a flash of a smile, soft but full of a deep sadness. " i never feel like i'm enough. " a quiet admittance, because she knows how he probably feels about that. ( they go back and forth between their own troubles. mirrors, once again. ) " i always think you deserve better than the crazy girl in shambles that everyone pushes away. because you have so much to give and i never know if i manage to give it back. " you're the one who rescued me. her smile grows more sincere at that, as her thumb strokes over the back of his hand. " we save each other, " she repeats, like a mantra. their foreheads touching, her heartbeat racing, she still feels hot in the cheeks from the springing tears. " you're so much more than what you think you are, will. " she said it once, almost eons again. she's saying it again. with even MORE belief that it's entirely true.

william halliwell

on an objective level, emotions are a weakness to be exploited. will had been trained to be nothing but a weapon, and weapons aren’t supposed to feel. on an objective level, he knows this. on a deeper, more primal level that he didn’t think died so much as never existed in the first place, he has always been a broken blade from the day he was born. "i know." he said and he meant it, despite the quiver of his boy. despite the way he was shaking in a way that made him burn for hatred of his weakness. weakness, he was so sure would be the end of him. was this the end of him? "i'm not--" was he running? he didn't mean to run, but what if that was what he was doing? will didn't know enough, emotions so confusing. he wasn't so used to dealing with so many complex ones, not until lizzie waltzed into his life so simply and without remorse (a lack of remorse they both shared). "am i running?" he asked her and he hoped, he hoped she would know. because he didn't. oh. so yes, he was running. he was pushing. he hadn't meant to. it had felt like the right thing, still did. it made logical sense frankly. hope was better for her. logic. yet his heart ripped at the idea of being without lizzie in his life. shattered at the notion of not seeing her smile, or hearing her laugh, or watching the way she could be so daring and bold and vulnerable and so many things in one blonde bombshell.. he made her cry. such recognized action, he caused that. he brought her pain. "liz..." he began, unsure and confused. not knowing what to say, what to do to make right something that had no definition of the word. it'd been easier to cover his face, cover himself from her seeing his weakness and vulnerability. a new kind she never had to face before, now right before her eyes ( and she didn't run, not like he had ). her hands felt warm to his touch. in spar with the tears, his eyes were clear. still watery, but clear. and he couldn't help it, the look of utter flabbergast crossing his face as she expressed such words. "how could you ever think that?" he asked such question and meant such words with every bit of his very being. how could she think that? "lizzie, all i have to give is me and i--" he wasn't much. just a wreck of broken bones and scars in the form of a person. "you've given me more then i ever thought i could want." he professed. "you gave me," he tried to think of the right words that wouldn't sound mushy and out came- "landon. a laugh because this was a bit funny, admittedly. "i wouldn't be friends with him, if it wasn't for you. i wouldn't have ever been on a date, or fought geese, or--" a pause. "lizzie, without you. i wouldn't be the person i am. you gave me me." he didn't know if that even made sense, but the words felt right enough. his thumb bridles through her soft hair, holding onto her like a lifeline. she said those words, and it was FUNNY*. he believed her.

lizzie saltzman

he's asking her. there is such a genuine air to his question that it takes her aback for a brief moment. the fact that he has to ask a question like this, that it expresses something as upsetting as it offers. she has to consider that maybe, maybe, his lines truly are blurred. she's still angry that he's putting thoughts ( and feelings ) in her head, that he conjures a what if that is as false as it gets. but ...  she can't fault him. she really can't. " i don't know. " it's an unhelpful, quiet answer. but it's truthful. she doesn't know if it's running, but it's ...  something. she feels he's putting a shield up, which means there's distance, which means he's pushing her away. " i know you're not staying. " that's basically all she knows. " i know i want you to fight for me, not to shove me into someone's arms because-- " she huffs in an attempt to find words. " --because you think you know better. you don't. i just want you. " it's as simple as that. .her eyes squeeze shut briefly, head dipping with a sigh. she knows he doesn't understand how she sees herself this way, just how she doesn't understand him in the same position. it's a vicious cycle. ( maybe they'll defeat it one day. ) but still, her gaze rises again, mellow and almost expectant. she knows he has a counterargument readied ;  he always does. she an't say she expects this extent, though. her chest swells with a burst of emotion as he talks. you gave me me, he says ;  and she relates. he probably has no idea how he took her pieces and built her whole again. " you're an idiot. " spoken with a defeated sigh ( slipped through an attempted, weak chortle ). " all you have to give is you? that's all i want. " it's more than enough ;  it's smothering and electrifying. warm and comforting. vibrant and familiar. her hand journeys to the back of his head, threading through his hair as she drinks him in, warm and peaceful - all things considered. " you won't be able to pry me off you with a thousand men, william halliwell. you'll always have my heart. all of it. "

william halliwell

he waits for an answer and anxiety thrums on his skin like mosquitoes on a hot summer day. she doesn't know. and he's not disappointed in her, but rather himself for putting such a question on her shoulders. being so unable to be proper and know, hated himself for being just as he was. nothing more, nothing less, he wished he could be more. he wished he wasn't so lost. it was like a crowning in his throat, struggling to hold onto a steady rhyme of breath as she continued. "i just want you happy." he didn't mean to push, didn't want to push. but he struggled to see the world where he made her happy ( and he didn't think about the fact that that was the world in which they lived already ). "i've always been an idiot." no, he hasn't. well, also, he has. just in different ways from the present. an idiot child who didn't know right from wrong, an idiot boy who didn't know how to make a friend, and an idiot boyfriend who looked at his girlfriend choosing him and thought, for some reason, she was wrong. ( still, even now. he knew himself to be an idiot. except this time, he kept those arguments away. as much as they popped into his head, he looked into lizzie's gaze and he knew. he knew they were wrong ). another tear bled from his eyes and this time it was one of relief. comfort eclipsing his being at her words pounding into his heart, staining like paint. "thank you." the words he spoke never felt like the right words but they were the ones chosen nonetheless. if only she knew the value each promise meant, no. he had a strange feeling, she knew. he didn't kiss her, but rather he leaned forward and rested his head upon her shoulder. maybe he should have asked, permission with words or with gaze. but, he didn't think too much. he just... moved. falling into the safety of lizzie saltzman and unable to regret it.

[idreamofinsanity]

Dreams: My husband and I travel to Florida, then other dimensions

I dreamt about a 3 day visit to Florida that became a dimension hopping, lucid dream adventure.  

Little bit of background for why I think I was having this dream: in real life, my husband has a work thing planned for Florida, and he initially thought he could take me with him. Something like that happened earlier last year, and we got to go see a rocket launch together. Now, due to transport plans getting changed, I don’t get to go. I think my brain drew on my anticipation and disappointment as the inspiration for the Florida part.  I’m almost certain that in the dream we flew there with only carry ons because that’s what we ended up doing when we had to unexpectedly fly to go to my little brother’s memorial service about 3 weeks ago...  Basically, there’s been a lot of traveling related things on my mind recently, so the beginning isn’t too surprising.  In the dream we were only in Florida (probably around the Coco Beach area) for 3 days. For some reason we were at this big, fancy hotel we were staying at? Dunno why my brain was like, “Oh, yeah, you guys would TOTALLY shill out this kind of money during this trip,” because we certainly would NOT. Anyway, while exploring this crazy big hotel with all kinds of interesting stuff going on in it, I came across my college Latin professor. I remember chatting with him, and him giving me advice, but I... don’t remember what we said.  We also saw a friend from college named Paul who lives in Florida now, though he doesn’t live near where we were supposedly visiting. (I was initially confused as to why he was showing up in my dream about Florida at ALL, but thought about it while typing this out, and realized him living there made it make more sense.) I think we saw him right out of the airport (maybe picking us up?), some time “in the middle” of our trip, and then he also saw us off at the airport again.  I don’t remember there being much to the trip besides walking around and seeing stuff like we did when we were there IRL, but one “scene” stands out in my memory more. It was the last day, and we’d decided to go to the beach just to kind of... chill there. We found some food shack that was nearly at the water, ordered some food there, and I went out to dip my feet in the ocean while my husband waited on our meal and watched me. I ended up coming right back out of the water, though, because there was some weird slime mold out there. I was like, “Ah, right. As everything dies from global warming, the mold is actually getting way worse.” Thought about that like it was a freaking obvious fact of life. I wasn’t gonna let that stop me from enjoying myself, though, so I sat in the sand, closed my eyes, and just... listened to the sound of the ocean. When I opened my eyes, the sky over the ocean was darkening in dusk, so I stood, brushed myself off, and headed over to rejoin my husband.  The next thing I really remember with clarity is being in the airport, carrying around our carry ons. I particularly recall a moving walk way that led to a section with food places and little shops. I think... I think this was when I realized I was dreaming.  All this reminded me of the last time we’d flown, and how it was for my brother...  Strange as this is, the last time I had a lucid dream--only the SECOND TIME I ever remembered a lucid dream--my brother had been in it. We’d been running from some people or something, and he and I had grabbed a car that I’d changed into this awesome looking red convertible (because lucid dreaming). That’s not the dream I want to record right now, though, so suffice to say, the moment in the airport was the moment in the dream that I probably mentally tried to “check” if I could alter reality.  From there, there’s just a direct “chop” in what happens in the story. The next thing I remember is traveling down some really clean looking sewers and coming across the freaking Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. In order to make sure they trust me, I make myself look like a female Mutant Ninja Turtle. Upon seeing me, they, of course, barrage me with questions while ushering me to the entrance of their hideout. Near the entrance is a FIFTH turtle with a red bandana over his eyes; his most prominent feature is that he’s about half the size of the brothers.  I approach him and go, “My husband told me about you,” without thinking about how the brother turtles can hear me.  They start asking questions related to my husband, and I end up having to tell them he’s a human. After answering some more questions, I’m able to talk with the Fifth Turtle Guy some more, looking him over and trying to assess what happened to him. He eventually asks me either if I know how this happened to him or if I can fix it? I can’t remember (I’m leaning towards the former, though). All I know is I had to tell him “No, I’m sorry,” with great disappointment for both of us.  At about that point, my husband shows up, coming from behind me. I think I say his name, and he’s able to tell for whatever reason that it’s me. He then gives me a kiss on the lips, and I’m all slightly confused and really embarrassed because he kissed me in front of people but also I’M A TURTLE PERSON??? Like, honey, you didn’t have to do that.  Anyway, we talk briefly about the Fifth Turtle, and then the next thing I remember is us being attacked by these two goons. Like, stereotypical cartoon buff guys in black 3 piece suits. The best part, though? One is, like, 7 feet tall, and the other is, like, between 3 and 4 feet tall, and, I must re-emphasize, BOTH ARE SUPER BUFF.  So eventually we get separated from the TMNT group, and I end up in a kitchen area with my husband (maybe in the TMNT base). I think I use my mind powers to shove a BIG double-doored fridge in front of the entrance, but I honestly don’t know. All I know for sure is the tall guy was after my husband and me, so I changed back into my human self, something got all over the inside of the fridge, and I tried making it clean again with my powers. For some reason, I could only get the inside partially cleaned, and I kind of got fixated on trying to clean it, like, “It’s okay, I just need to visualize it as being clean, and it will be!” It didn’t work, though, because I kept thinking of it as slightly dirty... until my husband was like, “Hey, can you stop dealing with that and deal with the HULKING BAD GUY TRYING TO BREAK OUR BARRICADE???”  So then I go over to this tall guy’s very long arm and grab it to keep him from hitting my husband or doing more damage. I then remember how my real husband in real life had jokingly tugged on my arm the day before and was like, “Huh, why’s it not coming off?” as a joke, and then I’m like, “Yeah, I’m gonna rip this Dream Realm goon’s arm off.” I then proceed to alter reality as I pull on this guy’s arm, and, over the course of about 5 seconds, RIP THIS GUY’S ARM OFF AT THE SHOULDER, LAYER BY LAYER.  He yells in pain, understandably, but I’m not a completely cruel god, so I made sure that he didn’t lose blood and that his shoulder instantly healed over... well, heals over the course of about 5 seconds. He backs off as his meat and skin heal over his shoulder (and to clarify his right arm is gone and definitely in my arms now). This goon--in the face of a power he cannot comprehend--comes back, sticks his head through the hole in the barricade and tries shoving his way through with the help of his remaining limbs.  Apparently one for not letting a BEAUTIFUL opportunity go, I turn his arm around and slap him with it. This does NOT deter the absolutely CRAZY goon, and he keeps going, finally pushing down what’s left of our barricade. I conclude that the limp slap was just not gonna cut it, so I use my powers to harden the flesh to, like, metal, and deliver multiple slaps, caving his head in as he turned to run.  At that point, his small goon buddy comes into the open space outside the kitchen, sees me, and seems like he’s about to attack me. I just look at him as he’s circling me, while I’m still ARMED with the weapon I used to take down his comrade, and I’m just like, “Do you not see this dude on the floor?! I will totally do the same thing to you if you come at me.” I’m not too sure what happens at that point, but I definitely remember freezing the short goon in time or something. I then try to figure out where they came from and discover a mind control on them. I actually feel really bad about it, so I decide to try breaking the control... by turning them into muppets? Like, felted, stuffed animal caricatures of their fleshy selves. (Can’t brain control with no brain?) I also definitely reattach the tall goon’s arm.  After all that, I get the feeling the goons end up working for me? For some reason? It’s weird.  Anyway, I take my husband and we exit that dimension and jump into another one for some reason? I feel like there were things we were trying to accomplish, but I don’t recall them. I also think I remember my husband making a comment about how this new dimension was a version of reality where Jesus didn’t happen? Or Christianity didn’t take off as being popular? I can’t remember the specifics, but it’s especially confusing that he’d say that because I definitely ended up in a catholic church (or a church with the same aesthetics and priest stuff as a catholic church). The weird thing was that there was a large sanctuary, but then also a smaller room with pews and a confession booth in another part of the building. I ended up being naked at some point when I was in the building (I think because any time I have a “oh crap no clothes!” dream, it’s always a church, so my brain must be like, “In a church? Time for no clothes!”). Anyway, I try avoiding the main sanctuary and end up in this small Pew Room with a bunch of old ladies in it.  They’re all aghast at my nakedness, and I then go, “Wait, I’m still dreaming. What am I letting this nonsense dream dictate that I’m gonna be embarrassed rn??” So I just alter the dream to have me in a night gown while holding my change of clothes and change the women’s memories to that of this simple gown. To them, the emotional reaction of shock is still there, but now they want to help me get into decent clothes. One of them suggests getting dressed in the confessional booth but that I should check to see if Priest [name] is in there because, even tho he’s not supposed to be in there yet, sometimes he shows up early. I can only check by looking through a foggy glass on the priest side, though, and it takes me a moment to see that, yeah, the priest is in there.  So I leave the... minituary? and make for a bathroom where I get my proper clothes on.  I eventually meet back up with my husband, and some other stuff happens that I can’t remember.  Then we hop over to another dimension where there’s some really famous school? I think? I only remember that I separated from my husband (again), and wander around what seemed to be a campus. I go down a smaller side walkway and see a boy and girl playing, maybe around 8 years old... I think. The girl wins the game, and the boy pushes her down, saying how his family is rich and influential, and he’ll make sure her life was miserable from then on for beating him. I decide to intervene, grabbing the boy and telling him that what he just did was wrong. He jeers at me, basically being like, “And what are you gonna do about it?”  At that point, I decide this boy had never been spanked in his life, and I need to change that (which is weird because I’ve never in my adult life hit a child, and I decided a long time ago I’d do my best to avoid it). Maybe it’s because I knew the boy was part of a dream, or it was because I was hoping to make myself into a greater force of antagonism in this boys life so that he’d forget and leave the girl alone? I definitely remember thinking the former... I just don’t know if it was quite at that point? Anyway, I spank him five times, not hard or anything--just enough to sting. I then run him out of the alley and check on the girl, healing her bruises and scrapes from where the boy’s assault had hurt her.  I don’t quite remember what happened with her or what exactly happened following the exchange, just that the boy eventually comes back to the front of the alleyway and, brandishing as large of a branch as he can yield, issues a challenge against me. (What was kind of weird was that he’d gone from looking like he was around 8, to looking like he was now around 12... Time traveling might have been involved, but, like, huh??) I think he thought he could come at me while I was surprised and unarmed, but the boy didn’t know I could summon a branch just as large and sturdy as his own. After doing so, I start approaching him with my own branch in hand, and he darts away, down towards a large, probably 100 ft tree (I assumed he’d gotten the branch off the ground around it). To his credit, when he sees I’m still advancing, he turns to face me and fight. We actually have a pretty decent battle, but ultimately his downfall is that he used his branch as a sword, while I used my branch to its full extent as a fighting staff.  He doesn’t like that I bested him and called me a cheat, making comments about how his family would find me and ruin not only my life, but the lives of everyone I love. At that point, I’ve had enough of his sniveling and poor sportsmanships, and straight up lift him with my mind. He hovers there, obviously scared out of his mind, as I give him a lecture on how he needs to learn how to be a better loser, and stuff about using his family’s influence for evil, petty revenge is disgusting. I wrap it up by saying if he ever pulls this kind of awful behavior again, I’ll come back for him, and, as he could see, I’m more powerful than anything his family’s money could do for him. Then, for good measure, I change the chemistry in his brain so that he won’t lash out with such awful aggression. I then let him down, and he runs off.  It didn’t occur to me until that moment, but I’d done that out in the full view of a few buildings and a main street. I just have a moment of “Eh, whatever. I’m too powerful to care right now. This isn’t even my dimension.”  I think I then leave the dimension and then jump back into it (the dimension "section” looked like a video game overworld man, btw) in order to get to be with my husband again. Might have complained about the boy? Something plot related might have happened, idk. I woke up not long after that. 

[serensama]

V route asks

Hi guys I’ve just gotten a couple of asks that might be a little spoiler-y so I’m answering them here under the cut so no one has to be forced to see it!

WILL UPDATE THIS POST FOR EVERY SPOILER-Y ASK I GET SO YOU’RE NOT INUNDATED WITH IT ALL :) 

@mc-of-my-life I am one of the camp leaders honey! I am all about V being happy but then Ray being happy too! I need that boy to live happily ever after, my soul depends on it. Granted this MC... WHO DOES THAT? Who lets themselves be kidnapped? Man as soon as the driver said that if i didn’t wear the sleeping mask that he had sleeping pills for me to use I was like- SERIOUSLY??? WHY NOT JUST CLUB ME OVER THE HEAD? 

Yes. Yes they are my darling. I just want to hug Mama V so tightly, bless her. Also- I love her voice actor, such a beautiful calming voice, I wonder how V would have grown up differently if he had heard his mother’s voice as he went to sleep TT__TT sorry I have a lot of feelings about this TT__TT

Let me tell you, coming from a psych background did that throw me in for a loop. I was like- you can see her morality? REALLY? Her ethics?? LIKE PHYSICALLY SEE THAT?!?!?! What you're likely seeing is her ego , what she’s portraying to society to meet societal norms. Her superego... that was becoming more and more distorted so if you could see that V... and you did nothing... I need to whoop your ass. Then again he’s quoting Freud so he may need an asskicking anyways. But I agree Nonny- I do believe that V can see more than most people, but i think that’s because he genuinely cares more than most people. Like he wants to take the time to get to know people and help them... sometimes to his ... and their... detriment. 

OMG I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. THE SASS. THE FACE. I AM HALF IN LOVE AND I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HIM. MULLET AND ALL. BLESS HIS FIESTY ASS.

I understand that, trust me- i above all people do. I think V tried his best and got overwhelmed, thought that he could handle her issues and “love” the darkness out of her. I just really hate that Rika discontinued her treatment, knowing full well that she was capable of hurting anyone and she stopped it, that kills me, it makes me furious. It’s one thing if your mental illness is only affecting you but the moment it becomes detrimental to the people around you, becomes dangerous for the people around you- you have a god damn duty to take care of it. The emphasis is on choice, correct- but it also shines upon the consequences of choosing wrong. 

Im pretty sure there’s going to be a Saeran route too, to make him so loveable is probably a ploy to see how we all react and how much we want to have one as well. So everyone please continue supporting Cheritz and letting them know how much we love them for their work and please- please let us have a Saeran route. It’s time to right all the wrongs here! *Zen is shocked to learn that tears have moisturising properties!? Immediately goes into his room and starts method acting to cry himself to sleep to wake up with glowing skin,.... but puffy AF eyes*

I know honey, I know- I am here for you!!! I have to say that I DIED when they incorporated how much he loved art and painting and the good ending where he mentions canvases etc- I WAS REBORN! I was like.... am  I psychic or what?!?!? Hahahah I always figured that heh was an artistic person as a son of a people (who i thought was a painter and a singer) who are patrons of the arts, he would definitely be one to explore his artistic options. I was saddened to see that I wasn’t completely correct in that HC but I still love that in his blood, he is an artist. And at least one parent saw that  and nourished it TT__TT *cries for Mama V* OH GOD TT__TT Don’t even get me started on Ray, that poor fragile innocent bean. I will save him. Next time. I will save him and they will all be happy. 

First Nonny: The only bad end I’ve ever done was Jumin’s and that was because I loved his little smirk in the bad end (yes you know the one). Cheritz would have done that on purpose, without a doubt. Kudos Cheritz, kudos!!!! They have some great writers on their staff who should be proud :)  Second Nonny: I know. In my head, i didn’t see him die so it didn’t happen. He got out. Saeyoung saved him and he’s alive and well. I saw it happening from day 4 with the way he acted when V came to save her- the level of possessiveness and panic he displayed proved how unstable and how reliant he was on her for his happiness... if she was to go away... and WASNT saved by the RFA... there was only one place for him to go TT__TT.... i hate being right. 

WHY!?!? WHY WOULD YOU EVEN PUT THAT INTO MY HEAD NONNY?!?!?! DONT YOU KNOW I LIVE FOR ANGST AND LOVE TRIANGLES?!?! TT__TT *scribbles down all the fic ideas she’s just been given*

Jumin is a saint in every route. He is the Best. EVER. (not a jumin fan girl at all).  The sarcasm and eloquence to which he destroyed Rika made me smile and clap. She deserved to have all her preposterous ideas and excuses thrown back at her. But- but... she does need help. Serious psychiatric help and all the people who she brainwashed and manipulated need help too.... but omg... if it were just me and her, in a quiet room before she was taken away for treatment and still rather lucid- I would rip into her for hurting my babies. For breaking Yoosung. For betraying Saeyoung and destroying Saeran. For manipulating Jumin and crushing V.... and well thanking her for giving Zen a pat on the back and some flowers I guess and just leaving Jaehee alone... and then wishing her a good recovery and a lifetime to think over the wrong she had done!

I don't think it’s a bad thing I mean... it’s kinda that same in the deep route- the one you’re romancing is almost always threatened of being overshadowed by the one still trying to win your heart. Only difference is that we didn’t get to really win Ray’s heart/get a good ending with him. Which is fair. BECAUSE I NEED A ROUTE JUST FOR HIM GOD DAMN IT. HE DESERVES ONE. HES GONE THROUGH THE MOST AND NEEDS THE MOST LOVE!!!  But I think V did shine in all of this- the reason why there’s so much support and outpouring of love for Saeran is because of what happens to him in the route. I honestly believe if Saeran got his happy ending and got reunited with Saeyoung and joined the RFA the amount of angsty love for Saeran would be cut by like HALF. We are a sucker for pain, and seeing a beloved character in pain makes us want to rally and support him... and now that V got his happy ending... everyone wants one for Saeran too. It’s only natural :) 

[dotshiiki]

the AU from left field wtf where did this come from.

I cannot believe I went and wrote this but it wouldn’t leave me alone and I had to get it out of my system so I could go back to writing, you know, stuff that I’m supposed to be writing, anyway Grey’s Anatomy!AU or for those of you who don’t know the show it’s basically surgical-intern!Annabeth and patient!Percy with a side of douchebag-attending!Luke in a completely messed up triangle (and Annabeth thinks she’s so going to hell for all of it). Just your average rip-off of the GA pilot (I can’t believe that show is still going). 

(Rated T for swearing and non-explicit sex. It wouldn’t be Grey’s without the swearing and sex. Read at your own risk. :P)

The first time she meets Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase gets groped.

To be fair, he has no clue what he did. She can't very well fault a patient when his flailing limbs land in an unfortunate spot when he's in the middle of a grand mal seizure. She just happens to be the poor intern leaning over him, trying to hold him steady.

Anyway, it's just one more annoying thing in what has already been an exhausting day. She's into hour twenty-five of her first-ever shift at Olympus General, and she's already dealt with explosive diarhhea, uncontrolled vomitting, and seventeen rectal exams. (She swears Dr Ramírez-Arellano must hate her guts.) Getting groped by an unconscious patient should be routine by now, right?

Besides, it could be worse--he could be some smelly old man rather than the fit twenty-six-year-old car crash victim with a ripped body (hey, she's the one hanging on to it for dear life while Dr Ramírez-Arellano yells for two milligrams of chlorazepam and a wide bore IV, after all). And he is kinda cute, if you ignore the matted blood on his forehead and the fact that his eyes are rolling back in his head.

Great. Now she knows she's really tired, if she's actually checking out bloodied car crash victims.

They finally get him stabilised and up to CT, and Annabeth rests her eyes briefly as she leans against the wall outside the room, wondering for the tenth time since her shift began why it was so important for her to join the game anyway.

The speech the Chief of Surgery gave this morning (yesterday morning? Time doesn't really have much meaning after twenty-five hours on your feet) comes back to her: The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You'll be pushed to the breaking point.

Right now, Annabeth thinks she may be at one of those breaking points Dr Brunner was talking about. She can't think of a single reason she should be a surgeon, but she can think of a thousand reasons why she should quit.

'Hey. Hey!'

She blinks at the lab tech who's waving the scans in front of her to get her attention.

'These yours, right?'

'Uh--right.' Annabeth stifles a yawn, grabs her scans, and heads off to find her resident.

Twenty-three more hours to go.

OoOoO

The next time Percy Jackson gropes her, it's another accident. She's adjusting his IV drip in the ICU when he wakes up, reaching out blindly. His fingers brush her breast and pause in confusion. Annabeth freezes as well--is this guy serious?--and then she realises that although Jackson's eyes are open and staring at her, they also have the blank look of someone who can't see.

'What--' Jackson croaks. His fingers move hesitantly against her chest--and she regains enough presence of mind to move quickly back, out of their way. 'Oh my god, did I just--what's going on?'

'It's okay,' she says soothingly. 'You're in the ICU. You were in a car accident. You're gonna be fine.'

'I was--oh gods, Mom! My mom--is she okay?'

Annabeth vaguely remembers two passengers who came in at the same time. She thinks Will Solace took care of the older woman in the pit ... ah, yes. Minor injury. 'She's fine,' Annabeth reassures him. 'Got away with nothing but a sprained shoulder. Didn't even have to stay the night.'

'And Callie? Where's Callie? Is she okay?'

'Is that your girlfriend?'

There's no reason her heart should rise a little when he shakes his head. It's of utterly no concern to her whether her patient is attached or single, even if those glassy unseeing eyes are melting her heart (it's sympathy, pure sympathy). The irises a striking shade of green, and she can only imagine what they'd do to her if they were clear and lucid.

'My friend Leo's. Poseidon, Neptune, and Porcys, he's gonna kill me.'

Annabeth bites back a smile at the funny cursing. She's never heard anyone swear on the names of ocean deities of an ancient polytheistic culture. At least she thinks they're ancient water gods? It's been decades since Middle School history or Latin or whatever that class was that they learned about them. And she wonders what on earth Percy Jackson does that he'd be up to speed on ancient Greek culture. Maybe he is Greek. He has the looks or it, mmm, Mediterranean skin and thick lashes--okay enough, Chase.

'I'm pretty sure she's fine, too.' She closes her eyes and tries to recall the other woman in the ER. Short, long-haired? Did anyone take her case? No, because she--'Got away without a scratch. She was one lucky girl.'

Jackson relaxes visibly. Annabeth frowns a little. This 'Callie' might be his friend's girlfriend, but he does seem awfully concerned. Maybe he has a thing for her, too.

And no, she doesn't care if a guy she doesn't even know is crushing on his friend's girl. He can like whoever he wants. He's just her patient.

'Can I see them?'

'After your surgery,' she says. 'I just need to check you over now. Can you follow the light, Mr Jackson?' She already knows before she does the pupillary response test that he won't be able to, but it's all procedure and she has to go through it.

'Percy,' he says.

'Sorry?'

'My name's Percy.'

'Percy, then.' She shines the pen-light in his eyes. No response. Hopefully it's only temporary--a pinched optic nerve, maybe, something that can be fixed in surgery.

'And I don't see anything.' He swallows hard. 'Am I--' The way his Adam's apple bobs tremulously, like he's already trying to come to terms with the bad news she hasn't yet delivered tugs at her heart.

Damn it.

She can just hear her mother's voice in her head--'Personal feelings get in the way. You have to be able to detach yourself if you're going to be a good surgeon.' Yeah, her mom's a pro at the art of detaching herself. She's done it for years and years, and not just with patients.

'We may be able to fix it in surgery,' Annabeth tells him. 'It should happen tomorrow. We needed to  make sure you're stable before we get you in the OR.'

'Right,' he says. 'Are you my surgeon?'

'I--uh, no, I'm just an intern.'

'Oh.' Percy laughs nervously. 'You know, the last time I ended up in hospital--'

'A regular, are you?'

His grin is sheepish. 'Not really. It's just that I sprained my ankle a couple of weeks back and the doctor said it was fine and I wouldn't need to come back. I don't think he bargained for car accidents.' Percy frowns. 'I can't remember how that happened.'

'Don't worry about it. Short-term memory loss isn't uncommon with head traumas.'

She finishes her examination--other than his eyes, Percy seems well enough for a guy recovering from a grand mal. It's funny--that shouldn't really affect his sight, but there's clearly something more going on in his brain that the neuro attending will definitely need a closer look at. She could've sworn his scans were clean, though.

'I'll let you get some rest.' She rolls up her stethoscope and hangs in around her neck.

'No, wait--don't go.' His hand reaches out feebly, thankfully nowhere near her chest this time. 'I--sorry, you must have stuff to do.'

She does--there's labs to deliver and other patients to check on, and her shift is just about up, at long last--but Percy Jackson is the main case she's been assigned. Her responsibility.

She takes his hand. His fear is palpable; she can feel it in the cling of his trembling fingers.

'It's okay,' she murmurs. 'You're gonna be fine.'

'Thanks, Dr, er--'

'Chase. Annabeth.'

'Annabeth,' he repeats. 'That's a pretty name. It suits you.'

'You can't even see me.'

'I can tell from your voice.'

Although she knows it's probably the pain meds talking, and he probably won't remember a word of this conversation the next morning, Annabeth gets a little flutter in the pit of her stomach anyway. Percy's unseeing eyes blink at her. They are nice eyes, almond-shaped and slightly slanted, like they're sending her a personal wink. And god, how unfair are those thick lashes on a guy?

'I bet you say that to all the girls.'

'Only the cute ones.'

'Again, you can't see me.'

'Then you'd better fix my eyes because I'd like to.'

Her heart does a little tap dance. 'You're--you're flirting with me. You can't flirt with me.'

His lips quirk. 'Why not?'

It's the pain meds, and the fear of surgery, she tells herself. He's probably one of those guys who flirts when he's terrified. (She can totally understand that.)

'I'm your doctor, for one.' She should probably let go of his hand if she's going to seriously rebuff him.

But if this is helping him stay calm, that's not a bad thing, right?

'Well, that's good. I thought you were gonna say you're already taken.'

She freezes, thinking guiltily of the messy friends-with-benefits situation she's got going on with her not-boyfriend at the moment (she never knows what to call Luke) that just got more complicated this very afternoon.

Percy must feel the ice that's running through her hands then. 'Oh,' he says, and starts to let go. 'Sorry, I didn't mean--'

She should let this go. Let him go. But her fingers hold on to his of their own accord. 'No, it's not--I mean, it's complicated. I'm not--argh, I'm single, is what I mean.'

'Huh. So flirting's a go?'

'Yes--no! I'm still your doctor!'

He laughs. 'Damn, you're a lot smarter than the tour groupies.'

Tour groupies? Oh god, he's probably a rock star or something. She's flirting with a rock star--no, he's flirting with her, and when was the last time someone like him flirted with someone like her? She wonders what it'd be like to date a cute guy who isn't all tied up with her career and her mom and the train wreck of her romantic history.

Good gods, what is she thinking? She can't date a patient.

Percy mistakes her silence for confusion and clarifies, 'I'm a surfer. You know, surfing champs and all that?'

Oh. Well, she got that one wrong. 'Like Kelly Slater?'

'Funny how that's the only surfer anyone ever knows.'

'I know other surfers,' she replies automatically, although she doesn't really. She's barely even been to the beach all her life. It's not like they're far from the water, but when has her mom ever had the time to take her? And once you enter med school--well, that's kind of like kissing your social life goodbye.

'Oh? Name one.'

'Percy Jackson.'

He laughs so hard, she's afraid he might burst an aneurysm in his brain. He has a great laugh--it bubbles up from deep inside him and fills the whole room--and it's so infectious, she can't help but join in.

She really has other stuff to do, but she ends up sitting there with him, holding his hand and bantering about stuff she doesn't even remember later (but still feels like the silver lining in her crappy first day of work) until he falls asleep again.

She tells herself it's just patient care.

It's what any good doctor would do, right?

OoOoO

It's at least five hours after her shift officially ends when she stumbles into an empty on-call room. She's supposed to be going home, and she knows that putting off the moment will only make it worse when she finally faces her mother's interrogation of her first day as an intern, but she's going to avoid it anyway. And if there's one excuse Dr Athena Chase can't argue with, it's being tied up at the hospital.

God knows she's used it enough times herself.

Luke finds her, of course, right when she's ready to crawl under the thin hospital-issue sheets (would it really kill them to spring for something a little more comfortable for weary doctors? She's not asking for much, maybe just something soft instead of crisp and sterile) and lose herself to the world.

'Annabeth,' he says, with that smug arrogance that he carries everywhere with him. Once upon a time she thought it the sexiest thing ever, was incredibly flattered that her mom's up-and-coming young resident took an interest in her.

Right now their relationship--if you can even call it that--is a time bomb that might explode in her face any moment.

'Dr Castellan,' she says stiffly.  

'Dr Chase,' he mimics. 'What happened to Luke?'

'Did you even think to tell me you were coming to work here?'

He chuckles and turns the lock in the door. 'I thought it'd make a nice surprise.'

'A nice surprise?' she hisses. 'I had to find out that my--my--whatever this was--is my attending from my resident!' She can't forget the humiliating moment when she brought Percy Jackson's scans to Dr Ramírez-Arellano, only to be told to deliver them to the new attending--Dr Castellan. She'd frozen completely at the sound of his name, until Piper McLean, her fellow intern, had elbowed her sharply in the ribs.

'Thought you'd be happy to have one attending who won't be riding you. Well, maybe in a different way.' He leers at her suggestively, leaving no question about why he's come looking for her.

'We can't.'

'I don't recall any objections last night.'

'First of all, that was two nights ago, and B, that was before you became my boss.'

He steps into her space and places a hand on the back of her neck to draw her face towards his. 'Lighten up. You're off duty now, aren't you?'

'We really shouldn't.'

'Nobody needs to know.' His hand is hot and heavy on her stomach, finding its way to the waistband of her scrubs and tugging them down.

They really shouldn't--this could blow up in so many ways--but she lets him, because it's Luke, and this is a dance they've been doing for years.

And okay, she needs something to get her mind off Percy Jackson, whose smile and voice and touch is lingering in her brain more than she cares to admit. Sleeping with Luke may be flirting with disaster, but fantasising about a patient--a patient, for Christ's sake, talk about breaches of ethics--is so much worse.

(Except that when Luke touches her, it's the accidental brush of Percy's fingers against her chest that she thinks of, and the echo of his laughter that rings through her head in place of Luke's moans, and how much more fucked up could this get?)

When it's over and Luke is snoring next to her, Annabeth gets up quietly and drags herself into the shower. She turns up the heat and lets the near-scalding spray scrub her raw, but the ghost of Luke clings to her like a second skin.

(Yeah, you can all send me to Tartarus now.)

[undergroundsky]

Where do you think Seidou fits into the current Akira + Amon thing? Considering his arc is unresolved with both characters?

If there is anything that has the capacity of revealing the fallacy of their romance, Takizawa’s absence is more than likely it. Whereas many readers take the Amon and Akira relationship as an ostensible parallel to that of Kaneki and Touka, I’ve always seen it as uniquely isolated in various aspects, primarily owing to the gravity of Takizawa’s existence to them.

Amon’s myopic definition of atonement and justice propelled him to seek out Takizawa on Rushima as if to protect himself from his own departure from moral integrity. To succeed in ripping Takizawa from the jaws of complete corruption is to grant himself security in his emptiness, to realize that the light in the world hadn’t faded after all.

With Takizawa now out of sight and Kurona apparently having regained stability, Amon rapidly shifts his attention to Akira instead of chasing after them to speak as he was wont to prior to his arrival at Goat’s hideout. Like Kaneki, he juggles in his hands the lives of the people he believes he should be held responsible for; in an ironic twist, he himself ended up being saved in the lab infiltration mini-arc by the two people he fruitlessly ran around to save for years following his transformation. He can ill afford to relinquish his role as the vigilant martyr, for only in the redemption of his former comrades can he find his own. Of course, that includes Akira.

I think the conversations between Akira and Kaneki as of late are very telling of how she perceives the few she entrusted with as much intimacy as she could allow herself, how this—

—can also be interpreted as a reverberation of her underlying muddled feelings in regard to the contrast between the human “Takizawa Seidou” she was attached to and the ghoul “Owl” he has devolved into. No matter the substance of Takizawa’s thoughts and memories as they may now be, Akira wants to convince herself that such a person can’t be in her future because the investigator as she knew him did not survive the raid mission, the investigator as she knew him was not a homicidal traitor who could desecrate their organization and murder the superior he respected.

However, this is the same Akira that clings steadfast to the name of “First-Class Amon” and moves to kiss him for his words of solace when she most needed to hear them. He sympathizes with her pain. In these moments, Amon is as much a ghoul to her as “Sasaki Haise” was before. That she is a product of her environment notwithstanding, Akira not only views Amon as a vessel in which she must invest her desires, but as a sanctuary from the dissonance of the outside world she is due to face as a result of her interaction with Touka and Hinami.

Despite her scene with Amon, she clearly mentions that her hapless reliance on Haise was born of emotional exigency upon her loss of both Amon and Takizawa. Of the two, Akira establishes the former as the lone safe connection that fulfills her selfish nostalgia because he never scorned her, never pushed her away. But that doesn’t erase her sacrificial act of shielding Takizawa and what she said to him, and the events in this chapter would have no doubt played out differently had he stayed.

What if…back then…I had stopped you?

It might very well have been the guilt talking, but there is a reason for that, why her last memory of him was him turning his back to her and leaving her alone, just as he remembered her doing on countless occasions. They wasted so long walking away in turnfrom one another without getting anywhere but closer to lost.

What’s uncanny is their identical approach to withdrawing from Goat, the “I’m done with you, so you’re none of my business anymore” rationale as though they’re channeling this sentiment using Kaneki as a conduit. Tragic, how they somehow invent ways to grow further apart even when they are not sharing a space.

While her question is a heavy one that will probably never be answered, if there is a chance, it’s too soon because it demands genuine self-reflection. In fact, I think your theory on the current moon arc folds nicely into the plot with Amon and Akira — they’re ensnared in their recycled delusions, feeding off each other with no one to wake them. Takizawa’s reintroduction would signify the point of divergence into the conceivabledeath of their fantasy.

The rosary is a relic of Amon’s blissfully ignorant childhood, a chain of penitence originally given to him by Donato. In ridding himself of it, he seems to have forgotten about his old friend, as well as his anger for his foster father; that was him symbolically shifting his burdens onto Takizawa and fettering him to lucid reality in his stead. So Takizawa chose to run from Amon and Akira like an owl deserting its roost because he had made his peace with his identity and purpose, and he could no longer call them “home” insofar as he is to remain what he is. To him, this is the afterlife of his own elaborate construction, liberation from and mockery of his true self to the utmost degree.

Except Takizawa isn’t dead, not really. He’s a wanderer with only his shadow and a prayer for company, and the Oggai are out for the harvest. What with his line from the original series that appeared to foreshadow some sort of involvement with the Clowns (“Shit…I’m definitely on the clown course…”) and his possession of the rosary, I almost expect him to cross paths with Donato, which would inevitably deliver Amon back within grasp. Ideally, his returning the beads to Amon directly would trigger a domino effect of them gaining solemn clarity one at a time.

For Amon, to confront the man who raised and betrayed him is to stop idling and begin to come to terms with the fear and self-contempt that consumed him, to understand that his morals are his own; for all the admiration he has for the people precious to him, their lives, deaths, and salvation are not things he has to shoulder in penance for every child he let die at the orphanage. There is the plausibility that he will succumb to his terror for a while; Amon never figured out how to restrain his berserk state, and if this arc is mirroring the Anteiku raid, it would be satisfying to see a predecessor–successor battle parallel between Juuzou and kakuja-Amon as seen with Shinohara and Yoshimura. He vows to serve as Akira’s guiding light through her darkness, and this is not so much a lie as it is a shade of truth foretelling his role in her epiphany. As the person fueling her illusions, his release is the preeminently necessary step toward hers.

Akira is a capable strategist who can aid in Kaneki’s quest for equilibrium, but she opts to escape, mind thrown into disarray and unwilling to accept her place in the struggle. Violent hatred was her weapon that she doesn’t have anymore, thus she can’t fight, thus she turns to devote all of her being to its sheer opposite — love—at the quickest opportunity. She has yet to comprehend that people are more than simple manifestations of hate, love, emptiness. When she learns that she doesn’t have to lean on Amon for emotional and existential validation, that her heart has always belonged to her, she will be free to pay the same favor to Takizawa, to breach his barrier and pull him from despair: You don’t need me as a reason to live your life, to be who you are. Hero or not, you’re still you even after everything.

Letting go is a three-way process for them. It is also their conclusion. They fall two paces back for every one in defiance of reuniting with their forsaken selves, their sense of self that is an indispensable part of opening their eyes to absolute awareness. Takizawa is the one among them who is most self-determined, therefore the catalyst to get the reaction going. I thoroughly enjoy this trio in spite of this, because of this, because they need each other in order to be free of each other. Once the veil of fog lifts and forces them into sobriety from the corrosive cycle of deceit and self-deception, they’ll be able to see their vital lies for what they were — lies.

[taekwonduh]

Don’t Forget, Pt. 3

Summary: “It is okay if you do not remember me, I can do the remembering. But in a world where I hold absolutely no place in your life, not even as the girl who knew your name before your face, I think it would be a place too cruel to live in.”

Characters: Jungkook, (she/her) Reader, Taehyung

Tags: Angst, romance, food for thought

Memo (Prologue), Pt. 1, Pt. 2

There is a certain lucid quality in the way time ticks while on commute, the idea of leaving behind a neighbourhood so faithfully occupied during the past years of your life for a territory beyond breeds a sense of detachment in your system. Your body remains bound by the ropes of reality, yet your spirit wanders with no desire of  ever returning.

Perhaps it is in your best interest that you cultivate the habit of breaking away every once in a while, though admittedly, the prospect of retreating into the dreams that afflict you so for comfort, be they night or day, is terribly ironic. But you cannot help it. You suppose it is to do with being born a dreamer. Trodding through life with no solid plan, the tiles behind you crumble with the lifting of each foot, and the path ahead is formed in the space where your feet land next, a future made of earthquakes that threaten to pull you under.

Nothing is ever clear to you. Not reality. Not dreams, certainly not the days ahead. And you question why you continue to go through with such uncertainty, why you have not yet called it quits with the world and cross into the other side when the boundaries that separated each half have long blurred and blended together.

You like to think that up until last night’s events, you have lived a life in search of answers to questions you did not know to ask.

His name is Jungkook.

“Y/N… You okay? Who was that guy?”

His name is Jungkook.

“Hey- hey, look at me. What’s wrong? Did he say something to you?”

His name is… his name is-

“Taehyung… I can't… I can’t remember his name.”

You remember barreling back to your bedroom, nearly ripping the drawer off its hinges with the sheer force of desperation. After all that has happened, the deja vu sensations, inexplicable memory loss, and the very bizarre but definite swap in places between you and Taehyung’s incident at the pier, you are hit with the sudden fear that perhaps in the time you spent away, the mysterious book might have disintegrated into nothingness. Another mind trick. Another surefire step towards irreversible insanity. 

But you are immensely relieved to find the item still within the confines you thrust it, grasping the book and locking your door. You finally work up the courage to discover its’ contents. To learn the answers which you always believed you worked tirelessly towards, but in actual fact have been going around in cowardly circles, feigning ignorance and hoping the misaligned pieces of your memories will somehow adjust themselves and find their rightful place. 

The reason why you have put the book off for as long as you have is the underlying rejection of everything you have believed in, everything you live for. The book, expectedly, throws your entire world off its axis. 

There are photos of you. Photos of Taehyung. Of a boy named Jungkook. The pier. Your neighbourhood back home. Alongside these polaroids are penned memorabilia, in a recognizable style of writing belonging to a single person— it is yours.

taehyung died three years ago, on graduation day. you were supposed to meet at the intersection at 8, but he had gone to the pier instead. he died by suicide. he did not leave any note. on this day, you met with an accident trying to look for him.

please do not call mrs. kim anymore. 
- 23.04.16

“Why were you at the pier?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Why would you be looking for me at the pier? We promised to meet by the school gates at eight-thirty sharp. You said if I were even a second late, you would pretend to not know me even if we managed to get into the same class in high school.”

“Taehyung?”

The train doors shut, carriage picking up speed as the now empty station is gradually left behind. There is a boy beside you. There is always a boy beside you.

He looks up from his phone. “Hm?”

The eyes you spend your entire life looking into appear foreign today. The disparity is not in its physical qualities, for the pools of liquid chocolate remain crystal clear, a reflection of the light that pours in from the glass panels adjacent your heads, it is perhaps in what lies beneath it— in what he holds within.

when you finally move on, the first thing i want you to do is pay more attention to taehyung. i feel like this all started because of his incident. if you can, save him, if you can’t, just keep waiting at the school gates. keep waiting until someone calls you and tells you the news of his demise. that is how you will keep your memories.

Even though it might not have been this life in which you lose him, you cannot help but feel as though there is a dormant element of sorrow that he locks up in a place so deep you cannot hope to find unless you sink your own two hands between his ribs and tear up whatever’s inside, destroying all that is good along with all that is bad. That is a resort you never wish to turn to, and you may only take comfort in the fact that you have somehow managed to save him. That he is here with you. 

He is here.

“Do you believe in a parallel world?”

The boy cocks his head, corner of his lips elevating into a lopsided smirk that gives away intrigued amusement, curiosity of why you might suddenly pose such an uncharacteristic question. He first decides to answer it. “I could be convinced.” The shift in his gaze to meet yours sparks electricity upon your skin, and you find that although your bodies are pressed against each other’s sides, though you can feel his heat radiating towards your profile, you are beginning to think that much like the dreams you lose track of each time you awaken, you might, on a day you least expect, lose him too.

“Why do you ask?”

“Imagine that there are little doppelgängers that live on a planet and follow a timeline that is linear and parallel to ours. They live a similar life to us, except sometimes the decisions we make aren’t always one and the same. So that results in certain… branches that lead to outcomes different from the ones that happen here, in our world. Imagine, there is a whole new world created for every choice we make and didn’t make. In those worlds… do you think we are still friends?”

Taehyung shifts in his seat, his shoulder leaving yours in his act of turning his entire upper torso to face you, a position that is no doubt awkward in the limited space of his seat, but sufficient in indicating that there is something he wants to find out.

“Where is all of this coming from?”

“I dunno.”

“Okay, let’s start small then. Is this about last night? I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but it keeps bugging me. You just ran, Y/N.” You suppose Taehyung must have known the somberness he was portraying would push you further into discomfort, and as concerned as he was, he does not want to guilt-trip you into divulging anything you were not ready nor willing to. And so he contorts his features into one of his signature unsightly yet comical frowns, shape of his mouth forming a drooping rectangle, eyes slanted outwards with the pull of muscle, his eyebrows tilted at an angle to match. With that face on, he proceeds to whine in a small, child-like voice, “You ditched pier night.”

And you burst. Uncontained, heartfelt laughter tumbling from the back of your throat out your mouth, shattering the early morning daze that hung over the rest of the train car. A few eyes shift towards you. But you could care less. 

“Stop making that face!” Your palms fly up to cup his cheeks, thumbs pushing and molding the flesh to rid that ghastly expression from his otherwise handsome face. Taehyung, relieved by your joyous reaction, eases back into his usual laidback demeanor, his own hands coming around yours to bring them down. 

“Well?”

“Well…” You answer his prompt pointedly, sighing into your next words, “I’m still figuring things out. But what I can tell you is that ever since that coma… things haven’t been the same. I don’t know what’s different, I just- I just feel.”

“Do you think we should pay another visit to the hospital? Maybe they might’ve missed something—”

“No, it’s not that. Don’t worry, Tae, I’m working things out. And when I actually have the answers to my own questions, I’ll gladly answer yours. Hmm?”

The mystical qualities of a train ride away from home dissipates into a familiar sensation of emptiness the moment a warm hand is wrapped around your wrist, and you are lifted from your seat towards the car doors, merging with a disarray of early morning commuters on their way to offices, schools, workplaces. The crowd is thick like wet cement, your senses held captive to an atmosphere so hot and humid that instantly all bearings are lost, and you rely solely on Taehyung’s lead to get you out. If this is what ensues a commute, it has become apparent that you detest it.

“Thank God we’re not late,” your companion huffs as he straightens the quality of his pristine new uniform, smoothing out wrinkles and dusting off lint. Though you don garments that are entirely alike, only tailored to suit each gender, you have found that from the time a communal code of wear was first introduced to you both at the age of seven, your dearest friend has always managed to find ways to look starkly superior in his clothing in contrast to you.

Maybe it is in his physique, broad shoulders and filled chest to match his tall and still growing height; perhaps it was in the choice of hairstyle, kept simple enough to abide by conventional school dress codes, yet presenting a tasteful styling in the way his bangs fall in a voluminous arc down his forehead, parted just over the the arch of his left eyebrow, a classic boyish look. Today, he sports his new pair of eyeglasses, an accessory he had showed off generously earlier in the morning when he came to pick you up. The look probably would not have been considered anything special if pulled by anyone else, a sight that blends into the surroundings and is easily skimmed over. You suppose that is the leverage over you he possessed by birth. 

In your trek from the train station towards your school, you are joined by many other youths sporting outfits identical to yours, and surprisingly enough, it is quite easy to tell freshmen apart from more senior students. Like yourself, they carry crisp new backpacks, bulky with the weight of brand new textbooks possibly packed inside, style their uniforms strictly in line with the specified guidelines, and in their eyes, they hone the same glint that currently shone in Taehyung’s— excited for a new start, anticipation of the new experiences to come.

Even as the school compounds gradually come into view, marked iconically by a domed roof atop a massive brown-brick structure, you find trouble in drawing out a sentiment to match your peers. To say that it feels as if you have done this before would not be a stretch; the transition from middle to high school in terms of routine does not feel all that drastic. Aside, of course, from the hour-long commute-from-Hell you now have to make. It continues to follow the same monotonous regiment of rise, work, sleep, repeat. What sort of new start could one possibly hope for? You have not the slightest clue. 

Upon your arrival to the parted steel gates, beyond which is an expanse of a yellow dirt field, at the core of which is a lush, green quad where wooden benches and umbrella-like trees are spread for the students’ lounging convenience, you discover a handful of senior-looking students, supposedly part of the welcoming committee, ushering in the students with smiles much too bright for such an early morning.

Amongst them, a particularly sharp boy catches your attention with his refined posture, herculean-shoulders and tightly wound school tie; his aura alone sets him apart from the rest of his comrades, exuding sublime confidence and ultra authority in his greetings to fellow students. Supposedly having been aware of this quality, the intimidation he knew he would surely evoke in students is neutralized by two lovely crescent-mooned eyes, his plush, pink lips curved into a matching smile, displaying prominently that despite the richness of his features, he too, remains a teenager like the rest.

You observe him keenly throughout your passing through the gates, leaving the sidewalk and entering at last the compounds of your new school, and you cannot help but be tinged with disappointment when the celebrity-esque boy misses the chance to offer you one of his well-rehearsed introductory phrases. Instead, you are merely shuttled along with the rest of the crowd around the perimeters of the quad, ascending a short flight of steps to pass through a set of warm, red wood double-doors, propped open by two rubber stoppers to facilitate the heavy stream of students arriving for the school day.

Officially within your new school quarters, you and Taehyung unite with other fresh-faced students towards the completion of the first step at getting yourselves oriented— finding your class registers.

At the end of the broad, linoleum-floored hallway you now stand within, lined on one side with display shelves of trophies, medals and framed certificates, and the other, with various club announcements, colourful nutrition posters, advertisements for upcoming school events, was a large whiteboard clipped with sheets of rolling paper dictating which student was assigned to which class. You and Taehyung would refer to this whiteboard, find your classes, and disperse. Albeit due to the sheer amount of people herded around it, Taehyung suggests that you wait at the outskirts for him to come back with the necessary information. You are much too small to be pushing through a crowd like that. 

“Bad news, Y/N, we’re separated,” Taehyung announces, looking evidently dejected by the conclusion of your once unbreakable nine-year fate as classmates. “You’re in one-four, I’m in five. Good thing is all the first year classrooms are on the same floor. At least that’s what I heard. Let’s get going?”

You nod affirmatively, angling your body towards the stairs. “Yeah.”

Once on the third floor, the lot of students on the way to their assigned classrooms spill into yet another boxy hallway, this one significantly less decorated, walls lined with chunks of metal lockers waiting to be taken up. The rooms are relatively easy to find, from the left of the stairway are classes one to four, and to the right are five to eight. Ultimately, this is where your and Taehyung’s togetherness reaches its momentary end, and the boy parts with you after an affectionate clap on your shoulder, wishing you good luck and a promise to meet for lunch. 

The subsequent absence of his warmth beside your shoulder is larger than you ever thought it would be, and though there is the assurance in knowing Taehyung is only one room away, the fact that you now go solo licks a hot flame of nervousness up the back of your neck, your footsteps grow significantly heavier as you trudge to class.

You are amongst the final few to enter, and like any sizable crowd trapped inside a room, it is no surprise to find that the seats towards the back have all been filled, and you very barely snag a desk at the furthermost column from the door, seating yourself between a girl in front and a boy behind. As the last remaining desks are filled, a man appearing to be in his early-thirties strides into the room, obliterating every decibel of conversation with his preppy entrance, now becoming the center of utmost attention.

He dresses himself rather casually, in a blue knit vest over a white dress shirt, khaki slacks and brown boat shoes. And upon assuming position between the presentation desk and the whiteboard, he lifts his spectacled gaze to size up the class of twenty, nearly thirty-odd students seated in their neat five by five, single-file organisation of desks, all poised and perked. 

“If this is the class environment for the rest of the term, we are going to breeeeze right through it.”

The stiff silence in the room is punctuated at last by the hearty chuckle that the man proceeds to let loose, joined only a second later by the harmonious laughter of the other students. The man, introducing himself as Mr. Nam, then begins to break down the events for the rest of the day— first of all going through administrative matters, sorting out the issue of lockers, handing out class schedules for the semester and recruitment pamphlets for various school clubs and sports teams. He goes on to guide you all verbally on the expected movement throughout the day: after the thirty minute homeroom, the entire school would gather in the main hall for a welcome (and for the returning students, a welcome-back) ceremony that would involve recapping last year’s achievements, laying out the expectations for this year, and the introduction of new faculty members.

Seated amongst your new classmates, some of which you have already broken ice with, you delight in the chance to catch Taehyung in his own plastic chair some rows behind you, already surrounded by a hefty group of male friends. You suppose at this stage the girls are still too shy to make advances, but surely they will come— they always do.

And at last, to conclude the two-hour long ceremony, the dean invites up a student whom he addresses as the student body president, handing over the podium to the sharp-looking student you were all but disinterested in just moments ago. The boy skips up the steps at the side of the stage, bowing slightly to the senior figure before assuming the now vacated position at center-stage. 

“Good morning everyone, this is student body president, Kim Seokjin.” The cheers that erupt following this brief introduction hails mostly from the returning students seated towards the back, according to their years. Firsts being at the very front. Seokjin allows them, and perhaps himself, a moment to revel in the applause, before promptly continuing with his speech, “I’d just like to say a quick welcome to all our new students, our prestigious members of faculty and my own committee extend our warmest regards. We promise you’ll have a splendid freshman year ahead. And to all my returning juniors, friends, classmates and seniors, a great big welcome back to the grind after a wonderful two-month vacation that I am sure was well-spent.

“Now, to get on with business, I am pleased to announce that our highly-anticipated homecoming night will be held two weeks from now, on the 14th July, Friday evening. Details will be posted on the student portal, so as always, visit the site to register your attendance. No one wants to show up to a party uninvited. Following that, we will be kicking start our week-long of sports tryouts and club recruitment for our lovely freshies, there will be a fair held in the quad by your seniors to try and rope you into an extra-curricular you don’t always actually need… but will enjoy nonetheless.

“And just before we close the semester with finals, the school will be having our annual Arts Fiesta month, during which all our arts teams will hold concerts, guerilla performances, exhibitions and more. You may find all the information on the respective extra-curricular notice boards located in the main hallway on the ground floor.”

Like his professional predecessor, Seokjin continues to lay down the events for the rest of the school year, albeit his tone is laced with a code of humor much more appropriate for the audience that it keeps everyone’s focus on him. At the bell, the ceremony is concluded and you, along with the rest of the freshmen, are shuttled into the cafeteria while the seniors return to their classrooms. 

The massive movement traps you amidst a bunch of unfamiliar faces, and it despairs you to know that you can no longer spot Taehyung in the crowd, having lost him to the taller bodies around you. Hoping to meet him outside the hall, you resign to the crawling pace of the crowd, one tiny step at a time until you finally pour out of the entrance like a drain unclogged.

The hallway outside is a clutter of frenzied traffic, some heading one direction towards the cafeteria, the others going another to hang out in the quad, and then there are little cliques blocking up space by the notice boards, the water coolers, chatting and waiting for their friends. You find an empty space against the wall and press your back into it, standing on your tiptoes to screen the crowd for the familiar black-rimmed glasses set against healthy golden skin. 

It turns out that when put in a crowd as big as this, it is near impossible to distinguish Taehyung from literally hundreds of other people following the exact same trend. Since when did so many people start wearing geek specs?

As the last of the herd trickles out, the hallway significantly clearing and decreasing in activity, all having gone on to spend their lunch break with friends, you are stuck in the same spot, no sight of Taehyung whatsoever.

You do, however, come across a rather peculiar scene taking place inside the emptied school hall. With the bulk of students gone and faculty members returned to their classrooms or the lounge, only a handful of council members remain, busying themselves with the stacking up of plastic chairs and pushing them to the back of the hall. Amidst the myriad of floor-scraping screeches, light jokes tossed around to brighten up the otherwise mundane task, you recognize the taller of a pair of figures to be Mr. Nam, and the other to be that of a fellow student. 

The humbly slumped posture of the student gives off an impression of apology, guilt, perhaps, and you can only assume the student must have done something to warrant a light chastise. As your mind wonders what could possibly have been the reason for it, you notice a bright red backpack still slung over the student’s shoulders, a hint that he could possibly only have just arrived, and therefore missed his chance to leave his belongings in the classroom. 

Right at that moment, the conversation appears to be concluded by a friendly thump on the boy’s shoulder, and their bodies turn towards the doors, towards you. 

That is when you see him. 

Chestnut hair. Round, curious eyes. Lightly tanned, troubled skin.

He sees you too. But you are well aware of the fact that the recognition flashing in his eyes in that moment is not at all aligned with yours. You remember each other from a different time. Different memories. There is the thought of how this is even possible at all, yet he is now standing before you, gazes locked, lips pursed. 

“Oh? You look familiar!” You’re certain you must not have looked anything less like a deer caught in headlights, and suddenly you are questioning why you have foolishly left yourself in plain sight, in the direct line of conversation with a teacher who looks particularly eager to be addressing his new student. “Let’s see… Y/N, right? What are you still here for? Not joining your classmates at lunch? The school food is really good, scout’s honour!”

“H- Huh?” The response comes out astray, obviously distracted. You are forced to avert your vision from a set of smoldering charcoal eyes to the kind (yet insensitive) teacher standing before you. “Yes, I plan to. Was just waiting for someone.”

“Is that so?” The man begins to smile, his larger, veiny hands coming upon the younger’s shoulders, the whites of his knuckles evident of a light squeeze being delivering from his fingers to the muscles beneath. For a first meeting, the two seem rather friendly. “Don’t tell me you know Jungkook over here?”

The focal point of your shaky vision once against resumes on the boy, who openly watches you, keenly awaiting your next response. 

“Jungkook…?”

“How do you know my name?”

who… are you? his name is jungkook. he sings at the bar. he says he doesn’t want you to remember him. when you wake up tomorrow, decide what you want to do with this information. 
- 22.04.16

“N- No, no I don’t.”

“Ah, is that so? Well, there’s lots of time to get friendly. He’s the last one to join us in class. Super, super late, but forgiven since we go way back.” Mr. Nam turns to the boy beside him, grin stretching even wider as his tone takes on one of affection, “See, Kooks, a whole lifetime of perks await you if you have me for a teacher in primary school!” The boy amiably joins in laughter, though the poor, ignorant man remains clueless about the massive elephant trapped between you and him. “Anyway, there’s no one left in there other than the student council. You’re better off checking the cafeteria to see if your friend’s already waiting. Go with Jungkook! He’s about to head there anyway.”

Your heart leaps from between your ribs, lodging itself in the back of your throat, and you find yourself stuttering, garbling, nearly choking, as the words struggle to gather on your tongue. “I- I- I was going to… to the washroom first, a- actually. Seeyouaround, Mr. Nam!”

And you spin curtly on your heels, ninety-degrees towards the path of escape, muscles cramping up from the restrain on your legs from bolting out of the conversation.

You are unsure if it is the heat of embarrassment earned from your display of conversational skills, or lack thereof, that burns the skin on your back with hot, white flames, or if it is the mystical properties that inevitably surround a daylight rendezvous with the very embodiment of all things you cannot explain, the equation that you are unable to make sense of that has come to mock you in the flesh.

The muscles in your leg lose strength the moment you round the corner, your entire frame doubling forward, chest heaving, breathing laboured. No matter the volumes of air you take in, the exhaustion does not recede, it instead grows in magnitude, transitioning from mere breathlessness to a frame-splitting ache blooming in the center of your chest, a sadistic twist-and-wring rhythm taking over the once steady beats resonating within ribs.

This is a feeling not at all foreign to you. In fact, it is so familiar that it is akin to a homecoming. The only thing that registers beyond the rapid pumping of blood and the hammering in your chest is the vague echoes of a paragraph that you think your mind will never be fully rid of. Not when the very subject of it has broken the chains binding it to dreams, and is now present within the realms of your reality.

my last request is this: apologize to jungkook. he says that you are someone who has suffered enough, but your pain does not nearly amount to his. you are able to forget, but jungkook remembers- he carries everything with him to the next day and the next. but let’s say you meet him and he does not recognize you- just leave him be. i think he deserves to live without you, because all his memories of you are laced with suffering. i do not want that for him in his next life, and i am sure you do not want that either.