#I could have chosen and tried to piece together the pan shot just before this

[ceejaykayess]

"Positions are unlimited, of course participation is welcome in the middle. Admission is unconditional, the uniform is free."

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Kingdom Come”

This is another one of my early Captain Swan one shots, this one written during the hiatus between 3a and 3b.  The idea entered my head when I first heard "Demons" by Imagine Dragons, which is where the title and the lyrics included come from. There was also some added inspiration from episode 3x06 "Ariel" and episode 3x07 "Dark Hollow". I don't think there is anything in here that goes against show canon; it's mostly imagined thoughts and missing scenes that go along with what has happened, and some guesses at what we may see when "Once" returns again in March.

As always, I have no claim to the show, the characters, or the song used. They belong to their creators and I'm merely celebrating their genius!

Also available on both AO3 and ff.net

“Kingdom Come”

by: @snowbellewells​

He knew that he should have kept his distance. She was shining light in contrast to his dark shadow, and a villainous wretch was the last sort she needed to have dogging her steps. Yet from their first meeting – knife at his throat, fingers fisted in his hair, hard, dangerous eyes hiding tense, nervous fear – he hadn't been able to pull away. He had no choice but to follow her. Call it a compulsion, an addiction, but he was as drunk on her as he had ever been on his chosen rum, and he despaired from the moment she left him chained atop that bloody beanstalk to any time she had left his side since.

The words Cora had hissed at him in warning echoed back to him, "You chose her…and the consequences of that decision…" Whether it was good or bad for either of them didn't seem to matter to his black, barely-beating heart. It was true: he had chosen the Swan girl…

When the days are cold

and the cards all fold

and the saints we see

are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail

and the ones we hail

are the worst of all

and the blood's run stale

It had become even clearer to him after the Echo Caves. When he had bared his soul and the feelings he harbored for her to be met with only silence and Emma's panicked uncertainty, fearless pirate he might be, but Killian Jones knew he should take a step back. The incredible, unparalleled kiss they had shared in the Neverland jungle told him the Savior was as attracted as he, but she was not ready for him. Her sole focus was on her boy – as it should be – but beyond that, she was running scared from anyone else who might try to breach her emotional defenses.

He knew it had been too much, too soon, to unload the truth about feeling that he could love again upon meeting her, and if he had been free to proceed as himself – as Killian Jones wooing a lady properly – he would have never been so clumsily blunt, but instead he was a pirate captain desperate to prove his loyalty and worth, while stuck on Peter Pan's nightmare island. They had needed to get Neal back without further delay and return to seeking Henry, and so he'd had to make clear that he was correct in the way the infernal cave worked. It had not been easy to look into her beautiful, tormented eyes when he had offered his confession, hoping he hadn't driven a wedge which would push her even farther away. It had been even worse to see her run across the bridge formed for her of their painful admissions, right up to Baelfire without giving him a word of comfort, encouragement, or thanks. He felt his shoulders slump in defeat, hurting more than he had imagined, when the cage holding the Crocodile's son vanished at words from Emma which he could not hear, and she fell into the embrace of her first love.

Killian felt her slipping away – if she had ever been within his grasp at all. Bowing his head, he hid the pain in his eyes from Snow White and Prince Charming's curious, searching gazes. Burning fire within him seared away the tentative hope he had foolishly let kindle within. He was nothing but a pirate, as the Prince had reminded him not so long ago. Though he couldn't help wanting to hold her, it was probably for the best…

I wanna hide the truth

I wanna shelter you

But with the beast inside

there's nowhere we can hide

No matter what we breed,

we still are made of greed

This is my kingdom come,

This is my kingdom come

There was no longer any doubt. He was a fool – a sodding, pathetic fool. For him to let a glimmer of belief take root in his chest again was begging for misery, but Killian Jones had felt it growing all the same.

Venturing into the Dark Hollow had been a risky, desperate move at best, but after his face-off with Baelfire and discovering that Emma had not even deemed what had been brewing between them worth mention, self-preservation had not been so high atop his list. He had barely cared what happened to him in their suicide quest to capture Pan's shadow.

Of course, the fiend trying to rip his shadow from his body had jolted things into focus with frightening clarity; especially when he realized that Baelfire was facing the exact same fate, but it was his moniker of 'Hook!' that Emma cried out in horror. That she found the power to magically light their star map shadowcatcher just after her concern for him surfaced was not lost on Killian. No matter how much he cautioned himself not to dwell on it, he couldn't ignore the implications. Emma might not want to admit it, might not be free to show it, but when push came to shove, she cared more for him than she wished to admit.

He had not lied to her when he had promised no deviousness or trickery. If Emma Swan – the Enchanted Forest's lost princess – ever gave him the chance to truly win her heart, he would use no dishonorable means. He understood good form and had once dreamed of being a hero. He might be an orphan and a pirate, not some prince or man of noble blood, and his thirst for revenge had kept him lost in villainy for countless years, but he still had honor, could strive to show it valiantly once again. He knew deep down that she wanted him; what he did not know was if Swan would ever allow herself to acknowledge her desires. He could only vow that he would endeavor to deserve her if she came to him with such a golden opportunity.

Swan needed some joy and lightheartedness in her life. Though she looked fragile, she was hard as steel; she'd had to be for far too long. To him, her beauty was unrivalled, but it was clear that Emma did not see that in herself. He wanted to worship her as she deserved, unfit as he might be to do so. Killian Jones wanted to restore her lad to her, heal the wounds of her past, love her unconditionally, and never leave her side. He trembled to risk pulling her that close; his history proving over and over that anyone he dared to love had suffered a horrible fate. It was better his own heart be crushed than for her to suffer harm by nearness to him. Still, if he fought back the darkness he had sunk into, shouldn't he be allowed to step into the light?

When you feel my heat,

look into my eyes

It's where my demons hide

It's where my demons hide

Don't get too close

It's dark inside

It's where my demons hide

It's where my demons hide

She came to him at the helm of his ship once Henry was truly safe and resting peacefully with Regina watching over him. There had been a scare when Pan had tried to take Henry from them once again, but it appeared Rumplestiltskin's strength had indeed been greater than the ageless boy's, and their antagonist was now trapped safely in Pandora's Box. Sighing as she came to a stop just beyond arm's reach from him and leaned against the Jolly's hull, Emma didn't know if weariness or relief was winning within her at present. She was not sure that seeking out Hook when her emotions were such a mess was a good idea, but it was a need all the same. She was drawn to him like a magnet – impelled to speak to him, to thank him for helping them to get this far…to make sure that he was alright.

Emma knew he had been left hanging, knew he wanted more. What she didn't know was what she had to give. It had nothing to do with still doubting his motives or that he was a pirate; Hook had long since proven himself in her eyes. She simply wasn't sure her heart could let any man in the way he would want and deserve. She found it didn't matter though: she still ached to be near the Captain. He calmed her, despite the turmoil she had been in ever since this voyage started, and his constant support at her back, whatever the situation or whatever her decisions, had given her strength. She wanted to tell him so; if nothing else, he ought to know what it meant to have had him in her corner and that she would not soon forget it.

"Hook…" she began, then shook her head to cut herself off, knowing that wasn't right. Her corrected word came out breathy and more ragged than she had intended, "….Killian…"

He turned to face her when she spoke his name, though he had already known she was there. Just then, she could see everything he was feeling in those ocean blue eyes. Though their decadent depths often smirked, prodded, threatened, or demanded as the situation called for, at that moment they were raw, reflecting mirrors letting her see right into his exposed inner soul.

All the words she had intended to give him flew from her head, and Emma was left standing frozen, swallowing hard and wondering why she wanted to talk at all. With that in mind, she moved to stand before him, just within his reach, when one corner of his mouth tilted up in a tempting smirk as he beckoned her closer. Obviously pleased with himself, he took things a step farther, resting both hand and hook at either side of her waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles that she could feel the warmth of through the waistband of her jeans, as if he were stilling a skittish animal so it didn't flee. "Was there something you wished to discuss with me, Love?"

"I…" her mouth went dry staring into his eyes and she struggled to focus on anything other than the desire for a second kiss from him, but she finally pieced together coherent words. "I just wanted to thank you…for everything. We couldn't have even followed Henry without your ship and your help. David would be dead by now. And I, well, I just…"

"Come, Lass, it's just me. There's no need to be so formal. I offered you my ship and my services, and I meant it." As he said these words, he was slowly, deliberately, pinning her in his gaze so she understood just how much it did mean to him. He placed the cool, smooth curve of his hook under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his.

"But – it's just – it's so much more than that," she floundered, and if she weren't so grateful and attracted and muddled all at once she would have been irritated that he could sound so composed and romantic while she struggled to get a sentence out. Emotional tears almost welled over her eyelids, but she blinked them back and stepped closer yet, almost begging him to hold her, causing their noses to nearly brush. Looking up at him, she hoped that just maybe her eyes could convey her affection, gratitude, and want without the words that seemed lost to her. Biting her lower lip in nervous anticipation, Emma raised her eyes, blinking, to his cerulean gaze and prayed he would simply read her scrambled mind.

Chuckling low in his throat, Killian seemed to do just that, and wrapped his muscled arms around to reel her in. "All you had to do was ask, Love," he teased, lightly ghosting his lips over her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, forestalling the inevitable and making her heart thud erratically even as she grew impatient for his lips to reach hers. Just as she had grabbed him and driven their first kiss – fast, desperate, bruising – he was taking over this second one, creating a slow, languorous, building simmer that Emma wasn't sure she would survive.

Killian's hand came up to cradle her head, hook resting along her neck on the other side, the one bit of cool relief to the fire in which he had engulfed her. His calloused fingers stroked along her jaw as if hoping to coax her nearer still. This kiss carried their feelings in it; there was still heat and passion, but below it thrummed something more, something deeper: it required a decision. Emma's breath caught at the realization that this kiss was something which might last.

Killian was thinking, hoping, the same thing, hardly daring to believe, but unable to stop it either. Greedy thief and pirate that he was, he wanted more of Emma; it would never be enough. Fool he might be, but he did not aim to stop until he had stolen her very heart. Not so long ago, he had been rudderless, with nothing in this world to keep him but his vengeance. Now, he prayed that he could change his course. At last, he had something to fight for, someone to hold dear. Killian Jones – Captain Hook – had despaired of being anything else but hell bound…until she crossed his path. Perhaps he might still find redemption in Emma. Heaven had to know his every effort and act for good has been due to her. It's all for her.

Don't wanna let you down

but I am hell bound

Though this is all for you,

don't wanna hide the truth…

This is my kingdom come

This is my kingdom come

The door slams in his face – her door – and Killian lets himself slump against the wall, dejected. It all happened so quickly and now Emma is gone. She is beyond his grasp, as he had always known she was. He has waited so long to see her lovely face again, traveled so far, and though he tried to prepare himself for the very reaction he received, it didn't hurt any less when she gave him the blank look which told him his Swan no longer knew him.

Upon their forced return to the Enchanted Forest, he had tried to steer clear of everyone. Angry, wounded, and bitter, he had wanted nothing more than to hide himself below deck on the Roger and drink until he couldn't think of how being ripped from her just when she had given him a chance had hurt. He had not wanted to be near anyone and had made horrible, snarling company when someone forced the issue, but that had not stopped Snow and Charming. Emma's parents were a painful reminder of her, but no matter how he strove to avoid them and steer clear, they would not leave him alone.

It was exasperating how they kept trying to draw him into rebuilding the castle and their kingdom, tried to cheer him up, provided work for he and his crew as supplies were needed from other ports, and generally would not allow him to wallow in his misery as he had desired. They kept repeating that they had faith this separation would not last forever. For some unfathomable reason, he seemed to have found his way into their affection, and they would not let him despair either.

When Regina had finally put together a memory restorative potion, he had been willing to concede that these royal types and their unending hope were not so completely off base. The former evil queen had been almost pleasant and much more willing to help ever since meeting Robin Hood – apparently the man she had been destined to meet long ago. Some of the dangerous emptiness and hurt left her eyes when she was around the archer, and especially near his young son. Killian knew that she hoped Emma would find a way back and bring Henry if she could be made to remember. Regina also knew the rules of the second curse well though; she was to give up the thing she loved most. She couldn't be the one to go after them, couldn't force her hand. She would have to trust those whom she had spent so long fighting against.

Killian had been stunned however when David and Snow both championed his undertaking the quest. Something knowing flickered between the Prince and Princess' eyes, but he didn't waste time trying to figure it out. He was too grateful, touched, and ridiculously anxious to get going, whatever the mode of travel, to ask questions.

Now, faced with the harsh truth, he almost forgets the potion tucked into a pocket of his vest. He had to try True Love's Kiss, had to see for himself if it were possible. He shouldn't have even entertained the dream, and yet he couldn't help himself. He truly thought she loved him…but maybe she still does and has simply forgotten. He has come too far to turn back now without seeing his mission through. Any realm he tries to make his life in now will be empty without her regardless. He will wait for his moment, and he will try again…

They say it's what you make

I say it's up to Fate

It's woven in my soul

I need to let you go

Your eyes they shine so bright

I wanna save that light

I can't escape this now,

Unless you show me how…

Killian stands outside the large, several story building where Emma and Henry now reside, oblivious to the crush of people rushing around him on all sides, looking up to the window he knows is theirs, comforted by the fact that, though she may not remember him right now, they are once again in the same place and time. He can get to her, and he will succeed in bringing her back to her family…and to him.

That she wants him to keep his distance right now means little. He is sorry that she is at last safe with her son and free of the heavy weight of her destiny and he seeks to interrupt that. However, he thinks he knows Emma well enough to believe she would not wish for an illusion over truth; even if it pained her, she would rather face reality. He knows that much of his Swan.

Villain that he has been, that the world has always seen, the selfless action would be to let her go, but he cannot allow himself to admit defeat. Emma has never truly been loved – treasured – as she ought to have been, as he had planned to do. He fervently wishes to be the one to show her what it is to be wholly adored. He wants her to know that she is his whole world, and he needs the chance to see if she can love him in return, keep him striving to live again. The demons that still haunt him, that say her kingdom and his black soul are already lost, try to whisper that he will fail. Their voices hiss that he will never bring her back, that her knowledge and memories are lost forever. Killian pushes those insidious echoes from his mind. Soon, he will meet her haunting, storm-tossed eyes again, and he will make her see.

This is my kingdom come…

Tagging a few others who may enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose  @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @stahlop @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @elizabeethan @wefoundloveunderthelight @jonesfandomfanatic @spartanguard @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​

[fandom-blackhole]

Hayloft - Ezra x Reader P.2

AN:  Hello! So not much to say here other thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed the first part. Also all future parts of this book, which is going to be 4 to 5 parts?, will be published on fridays or saturdays that way I have time to write them and have my ‘editor’ (sister) read through them! Anyway without further ado, Part 2!

Also small side note in my world Ezra is king of consent and I will not change my mind

Masterlist

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: mentions of disability discrimination, AFAB reader, Ezra laying on the charm thiccc

Life with Ezra on the farm was different. He was unlike any floater our family had employed before. Ezra had an air about him that just couldn’t be placed or replicated, and as much as I quite enjoyed everything that set him apart, Anthony and my father weren’t too keen on them. Ezra, for me at least, felt like a breath of fresh air after only being able to breathe in the stale air only found in the deepest of caves, or deep space which had been described to me by a previous floater. And the one-armed floater was refreshing to look at as well, with his easy smiles, plush lips, imperfectly perfect facial hair, eyes so dark that I could just get lost in them if he allowed me too, and his nose, Kevva above don’t get me started on just how badly I wanted to trace my finger down that beautifully accenting facial feature.

After arriving home from the market with Ezra in tow that first Saturday, my father had sent me to go and sort through the day’s haul while he discussed a work arrangement with Ezra and showed him around the farm. I hadn’t seen much of Ezra the rest of the day until I had called everyone to dinner, which only led to Ezra profusely complimenting my cooking with his tongue twistingly colorful words before excusing himself for an early night’s rest. It was later as I finished washing the dishes that I heard my father’s first of many dissatisfied comments on the man.

 “That damned man is lucky we are so pressed for help. Any other situation and I wouldn’t have hired a loose-lipped man in his… situation .”

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Things on the farm improved greatly with having another person around to help bear the heavy load of work. Ezra, despite my father’s reluctance and doubts in his abilities, worked harder and better than almost all of our previous hires. He woke early and worked late, doing just about anything that was asked of him, and all the while he kept his cheerful attitude.

 During the first week that Ezra was brought to the farm, we shared smiles over meals and chatted whenever we were working together. For that first week, I had decided to steer clear of sneaking into the now spare bedroom that Ezra currently occupied, but after a week of sharing glances at each other and only small talk when speaking amongst ourselves I was itching to have an actual conversation with the silver-tongued man. So later in the afternoon on the Sunday after his first week, I left a note asking for permission to come and visit him that night after everyone else had gone to bed. That night over dinner when he met my eyes across the table and gave a small nod with his signature crooked white smile I glanced down at my plate with a smile on my face knowing exactly what that nod had meant. 

After Ezra had given me his small nod, the evening seemed to have decided to drag on as much as possible. Ezra, per usual, retired to his room early while I went to start the dishes where I soon found out the meal I had prepared had chosen to be stubborn and stick to all of the plates and pans, and as a result, I spent a good chunk of my evening scrubbing until my wrist was the sore from overworking it. Hope that the evening would move quickly after that had been shot down almost immediately when I had walked from the kitchen only to have my father call me over so that we could go through finances and start making plans for the next season. As we sat at the table, papers spread around us, I kept finding my fingers drumming against the table in front of me in impatient worry, which I quickly stopped doing as soon as I realised, which only led to my leg to start bouncing minutes later from restlessness. So after yawning for the fourth time and noticing that the third of K-5’s moons was in the center of the sky my father finally decided to call it a night, and in my excitement, though I tried to hide it, I ushered him off to bed with promises of putting away the paperwork we had scattered across the table. 

After rushing to put everything away while keeping it all organized and going to my room to grab my small book collection, I slowly and quietly crept towards the room where I hoped Ezra was still waiting for me, though I would have not blamed him in the least if he had given up or fell asleep waiting for me. So when I cracked the door enough to peek through and was met with Ezra jerking his head away from the window and his mouth splitting into a Cheshire grin as his eyes sparkling more than any star in the sky at that moment, I had to bite down on my bottom lip to keep myself from returning a grin just as broad as his as I slid through the door before closing it quietly.

“I must admit, flower, that I was damn well on the verge of losing hope that you would be visiting me tonight, but mark myself absolutely lucky that here you come sneaking into my room looking like an absolute vision in the light of the moons and stars,” the man whispered as I crept closer to sit on the cot across from the one that he had claimed and he combed his fingers through his hair in what seemed to be an attempt to smooth his unruly hair, though only succeeding in causing his white fluff to stick at and even more awkward angle. Having a small smile form on my lips along with a rosy tint on my cheeks from his flirtatious compliments, I met his eyes again and whispered a small sorry as I sat my books on the cot beside me. 

“Hear now, flower, you need not apologize to this gruff and weathered prospector. I would have stayed up all night if it meant that you would grace my presence if only long enough to bestow one of those darlin’ smiles in my direction. Now those smiles you think me lucky enough to see with my own weary eyes could keep me going for days, if not weeks, without needing any sort of sustenance.”

Giving him a quiet laugh and a shake of my head widening my smile, “I think you have soaked up every last bit of charm in the universe, Ezra, and as much as I enjoy it, you might want to charm some with the rest of us.”

“Oh but precious flower, you don’t know this but I have never been quite good at sharing, and if keeping ‘every last bit of charm in the universe’ to myself keeps your graceful beauty coming back to me, then I am going to harbor and collect every single bit of charm I can, like a dragon taken in by its golden hoard.”

Rolling my eyes at his silvery words I gave him a huff as a laugh and turned my head to change the subject trying to hide just how much his smooth words of flattery made me feel, “I, um, I brought the rest of my books. I thought you might want to read them, or maybe talk about them…”

Suddenly feeling nervous, I break eye contact and start picking at my nails. Books have always been my solace away from the dull reality of my world and my collection, though meager, meant everything to me. So offering them up to Ezra felt like I was offering him a small piece of my soul and if he said or did anything in a mocking or ridiculing manner, I feel like I could just crumble right where I sat from disappointment and embarrassment. Not only would any untoward words feel like a personal attack, but I wanted to impress this well-spoken man so badly and I couldn’t figure out why, though in all honesty I might have a small inkling as to why that I have yet to want to admit to myself. As usual though, when Ezra opened his mouth he did nothing but fill my chest with warmth with his flowery words.

“I would like to think you have quite the library started here, flower,” reaching over to grab the books only to stop and look to me for permission, only to continue with a small nod of my head. “Now let’s see Pride and Prejudice ? Now that is a lovely read, I always quite liked how Ms. Austen wrote the women in her elegant novels, especially given the time she was writing in. And let’s see Frankenstein, now this a book that I have heard nothing but praises for but have yet to be able to get my hands… hand on. Now last but certainly not least The Hobbit , now this is a true story of wonder, Mr. Tolkien sure did have quite the imagination having been able to create a whole new world with history, languages, peoples, and oh so much more. The man was a true genius if I am inclined to give my own opinion. I very much enjoyed his accompanying stories about Bilbo’s young nephew as well.”

After scanning over each book precariously he looked back to me with eyes so soft that I think even kitten’s fur couldn’t compare. As I met his gaze with my own I tasted a slight tinge on my tongue and realized that this entire time I had been chewing on my bottom lip in worry and anticipation. Giving a small smile Ezra reached across the small gap between the cots we were sitting on and brushed his thumb over my bottom lip, “Darlin’ flower, that, if I might say, is a terrible habit you seemed to have picked up and I must suggest you break it in anyway imaginable. I don’t think my heart could take seeing any of your delicate petals harmed in any way.”

His hand pulled away just as quickly as it appeared and I let out a stuttering breath I had not realized I had been holding in, my eyes still wide and watching him from the shock of the such intimate feeling act. Without missing a beat though, Ezra leans back and grins at me though it had a softer edge now.

 “I have to ask, flower. How are you enjoying Poe? I know I told you that I didn’t much care for him, but I have been waiting with absolute bated breath to hear what your opinion of the eccentric man is...”

As the night continued to get later and later, the two of us discussed Poe and his stories, having admitted to Ezra that I had not yet finished reading the poetry section of the book, because in all truth I have not been able to progress past the poem he had recited to me on our first meeting, having read it several times at this point. Though I did not admit that to him. As the night neared dawn I took my leave after gathering my books and as I headed towards the door I found myself stopping and turning around and scurrying over to Ezra, who looked at me with slight confusion in his eyes, and I pushed my tattered copy of Frankenstein to his chest before spinning around and fleeing back to my bedroom. 

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After that first Sunday night, Ezra and I had quickly settled into a routine of having weekly meetings on the Sunday nights following our first. I found myself looking forward to our meetings each week more and more as the days progressed. Slowly over time and as our meetings grew in number, Ezra and I grew closer as friends, but also physically. After almost a month of our secret sunday meetings, we had gone from sitting across from one another on different cots to sharing Ezra’s cot. 

Though the cots were small I found myself not minding when we would accidentally brush against one another, if anything everytime it happened I felt my heart skip a beat or my breath catch in my throat. As our closeness grew, I found that Ezra’s touches grew in number as well. The touches though were never much, but unlike the accidental brushes of our hands or knees as we talked, these touches were more deliberate much like when he had ran his thumb across my bottom lip that first night. Ezra would often reach out and push hair behind my ear as soon as it had fallen in my face or as I talked animatedly about something, more often than not one of my books, he would reach out and trace one of his fingers along my hand, wrist and arm. Those were my favorite of his touches, because they were gentle and soft as he ran a finger around the palm of my hand before moving slowly to my wrist where he would focus on drawing figure eights and other shapes before moving on to my forearm where he would just run his finger up and down, occasionally stopping and tracing letters onto my skin, though I’m not sure if he ever actually spells anything because I get too caught up in the feeling of his rough calloused finger tip against my softer forearms and inner wrist. Everytime he runs his finger along one of my arms I always find it hard to continue with what I am telling him because his soft touch paired with his soft but passionate gaze always seems to throw my train of thought off its rails, but I push through and struggle to continue if only for the fear that if I stop talking he will pull his hand away from mine. 

Things between Ezra and I just continued to progress as the two of us grew more and more comfortable around each other. Most Sunday nights were filled with book talk or Ezra telling stories of adventures he had been on, though I could only assume the man liked to exaggerate in his story telling as I could not believe that some of the things he had described had actually happened to him. After a while we had even added reading to each other into the mix of things we did some nights, and these quickly became my favorite nights, even though I loved Ezra’s stories, Ezra’s voice as he read had a certain pull to it that caused me to be drawn closer to him every time. On the nights where we read to each other we always ended up touching. When Ezra read I always ended up drifting slowly towards him until I was laying my head on his shoulder looking down at whatever book he held and was reading from. While on the other hand, when I read to Ezra he, unlike me, who slowly moved until we touch, immediately got comfortable on his cot before moving his legs and pulling me to sit between them before resting his chin on my shoulder. He, in a much longer and dramatic way, told me that he liked to be able to read along the page with me and this position was the best to do that. Those nights he also tended to grab my left hand and play with my fingers and trace my palm as we read. 

It wasn’t until one of the nights I was reading to him that I let myself finally realise just how much this man meant to me and just how much I was really starting to care for him. It was when he stopped me from reading “Lenore” by Edgar Allan Poe to discuss the part of the poem I had just read and I turned to look at him as he spoke that I was just hit with the need to hold him close and not let him go. 

When it was time for me to sneak back to my room, I placed the book I had been reading from onto my stack of books that now resided underneath Ezra’s cot. Turning I found Ezra standing next to the door and gave him a smile as I slowly and quietly padded over to where he stood and once I reached him, he grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers together. We stood like that for a few seconds, quiet and not talking with tension growing between the two of us, until I reached my other hand to his face, hesitating only for a second, before placing it on his cheek and brushing my thumb across his cheek bone. Moving my eyes from from where my thumb was moving across his cheek to his eyes I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me from the intensity of his gaze. Without realizing it until his nose bumped into mine, that I became aware of just how close Ezra and I’s faces had drifted together, and as I felt myself bite the inside of my lip Ezra broke the silence, though it was so quiet I hadn’t realized he had spoken until I found myself responding.

“Flower, I must admit that I have dreamed and thought constantly about what those beautifully flushed lips would feel like brushing against my own, and I must ask. Please if you would grant any wish of mine, delicate flower, would you please allow me to feel the heaven that I am sure would be your lips upon mine,” as he asked I could feel every word because of our closeness more than actually heard them. Ezra’s eyes never left my own as he spoke, looking back and forth between them, studying them and waiting for my response. Closing my eyes, I released my bottom lip and nodded giving him a breathless yes, before he gently pressed our lips together. The first kiss was quite chaste, but when we pulled apart it only took Ezra a second move his lips back onto mine to drag them into a more passionate kiss. It was through this kiss that I felt and realised that Ezra had grown to care for me in much the same way as I cared for him. It was after we pulled away from that kiss as the need to breath became more of a priority, that he'd pulled away from me with a soft smile and he moved to open the door so that I could make the short journey back to my room. As I slipped through the door I couldn’t help but to grab his face again and press another short kiss to his lips before moving into the shadows of the hallway.

 That night as I walked to my room I was only able to move in muscle memory as my mind was preoccupied with what had just happened. As I moved down the hallways it felt like I was floating rather than walking, the entire time I could only reminisce over how Ezra’s lips had felt against mine. And even after I reached my room and crawled into bed, my mind refused to think about anything other than the man that felt so close yet so far. I couldn’t draw myself away from the memory of just how right his lips had felt brushing against mine. I couldn’t think of anything but the feel of his mustache tickling my upper lip as his lips rough, much like his hands, lips had gently glided over mine with such care and adoration. I couldn’t bring myself to think about anything other than the thought that the kisses we had shared felt like no other kiss or intimacy that I had experienced with anyone else.

(Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! I hope you enjoyed and any and all likes and/or comments are welcome. If you see any weird formatting know that tumblr destroyed this when I copied it and I tried my best to fix it, so any mistakes please point them out so I can fix them! If you are curious about this world shoot me an ask, I love talking about my fics! Also if you’d like to be added to or removed from the taglist just shoot me a message! This is also on my Ao3 which is linked in Part 1 as well as a spotify playlist I made for Ezra! Anyway have a lovely week!)

Tags: @babybelou @farrvey @anatanotegami @revolution-starter

[reinabeestudio]

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, I wrote a humble one-shot featuring Phantom Thief Karamatsu and Detective Shinshia, inspired by the Phantom Thief set from Hesokuri Wars lol.

It is very simple, and I did it just to cater myself LMAO. But maybe some of you find it cute✨. As a small fact, I titled the story “Alone Together”.

Story under the cut!

Finally, February was here! Heart-shaped decorations in every store, roses of different colors were seen over different parts of the city, cute sweets… last but not least, there was the romance. For a long time, this was a sour month for the sextuplets. They were phantom thieves of renown, yet they never got a single chocolate in their whole lives by their fans! It was truly demoralizing, almost as bad as Christmas.

Tradition said that women were the ones that gifted chocolate for the men they had chosen. This year, however, the blue phantom thief had a mission. An important gift to give.

Karamatsu tried so many times in the past to convey his feelings to the new detective: Shinshia Doremi. She acted rough and distant at first. “We are enemies,” she declared coldly. But in the rare moments they could spent together, her behaviour softened and the real Shinshia Doremi was exposed: a warm, yet shy girl. Sadly, everytime he tried to tell her about what he felt, someone or something would interrupt their moment together. Often their separate duties, as detective and phantom thief. 

Oh, Cupid, how cruel was he! Keeping the hearts of this couple in the scale of Lady Justice, its pans so close but never together! Such a tragic fate!

Well, perhaps the vision he had of their love inside his head had evolved into something more dramatic than what it actually was in real life. But it added some excitement to whatever their situation was.

Karamatsu was no fool, either. He knew there were others interested in the girl… Mostly, his boisterous, shitty eldest. He noticed the way that idiot looked at her, and it wasn’t love. At least, not the the type of love he felt inside. The blue thief decided it was time to strike while he still had the chance, and ask her out. Subtly.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Once more the young detective ended up being one of the few remaining people in the department. Rookies got so much paperwork, it was just ridiculous. She had to keep a dictionary close to her, too. Some of these characters looked like an amalgamation made of nightmares.

To keep boredom away, Shinshia started singing, the words echoing throughout the empty office. A soft duet, the name of which she could not call to mind at the moment. However, she did remember that it was a popular love song. It was one of the first songs she heard when she first arrived to Japan.

The sun goes to sleep once more

In this lonely time, I wonder

Is your heart dreaming of me?

The detective finished with the paper she had in front of her, and grabbed the next one in the pile. “How tedious,” she thought. She kept singing to herself.

Stars twinkle above our heads

And the moon gives us her best glowing smile

But tonight, I’ll be yours...

“... And yours alone.” 

Another voice joined in with her song, singing along. Shinshia went silent and turned around, but she saw nothing besides empty desks. She went back to her paperwork, along with her song.

However, before she could sing another word, Shinshia stopped entirely when suddenly a pair of hands covered her eyes. “Who is it?” a familiar male voice asked in a sing-song tone.

“The sweet release of death, I hope.”

She resumed her work when she regained her sight as the infamous phantom thief, Karamatsu, casually leant against her desk with a subtle smile. “Long day, I presume.”

“You have no idea,” she sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears . “You should leave before someone sees you. Unless you want me to handcuff you.”

Karamatsu laughed quietly. “Heh, being helpless at your mercy sounds like a very tempting offer, darling. ” Shinshia’s face immediately flushed and he laughed again, genuinely. “But I am here to steal you away.”

“Steal me away?” Shinshia asked, not even looking away from the papers. She put some loose locks of hair behind her ear again. She was often pulling hair away from her face lately. “Sorry Karamatsu, but I have a ton of paperwork left to do. I can’t be stolen right now.”

“C’mon, Shia-chan! It won’t be for long. I’m just asking you to take a break.”

“I told you, I’m busy right n-”

The phantom thief put a hand over the paper she was writing on, and the scowling detective finally looked up at him. It was in that moment when she noticed that he was wearing casual clothes, and not his usual garish outfit filled with blue glitter. The only part that did stand out was, perhaps, the black eyepatch on his left eye. He felt triumphant over this, how she looked at him.

“Tonight, be mine alone ♪.”

After a minute of silence and a staring competition that was perhaps getting a bit too intense for the situation, Shinshia got up from her desk grumbling. “Fine. A short break.”

With a triumphant spring in his step, he suddenly scooped her up in his arms effortlessly and left the office. His plan was working so far.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Now this was strange.

Karamatsu dragged Shinshia out of the office. That was not the strange part, but instead of avoiding crowded places like he always did, they just… kept walking. Out in the open. Walking didn’t bother her, it was just unusual. He was a famous criminal, after all. It was a miracle they left the building so easily. Or maybe the author was just too lazy to think of something smart.

Wait, author? What author? That makes no sense. Just ignore it.

It was snowing outside. Snow wasn’t common where she was from, so she still marvelled at the sight of it everytime. Despite how much she enjoyed watching the snow fall, it was still cold in the streets. So smart was she, that she forgot to grab her jacket before they left, and now she was constantly rubbing her hands together.

Karamatsu laughed. “You’ll end up setting them on fire, Shia-chan.”

Shinshia snorted. The comment was lame, yet she snorted, like the fool she was. Karamatsu took her hand on his own and blew on it, before he decided to put both of their hands inside his coat pocket. She glanced at him, noticing that he was actually doing the same at her. However, as soon as he noticed her eyes on him, Karamatsu quickly looked away and instead focused on the cars that passed by.

After spending their evening with an impromptu stroll, they finally headed back to the building. Karamatsu spent most of the time silent, which was even more unusual that this whole situation. Usually, he loved doing long monologues filled with inscrutable flowery words that probably sounded cool only in his mind. But during that evening, Karamatsu seemed focused in whatever was going through his head at the moment. Then again, Shinshia didn’t talk much herself.

The poor detective couldn’t help it! He was a man that had to be put behind bars for his crimes, she knew this. However, everytime they were together, her mind just stopped working properly. This had been happening since she actually caught him once: Karamatsu, one of the six-colored phantom thieves that stole valuable pieces of art all around the city. He was pretty popular among the youngest members of her department, some of them even called themselves his fans. That was done in secret, of course.

Shinshia knew little about the man next to her. Truth be told, she wanted to unveil that air of mystery around him by herself. Not as a detective, but as… something else. Maybe as a friend. Or maybe as something deeper. Only the author knew.

Hold on, what-- you know what, nevermind that.

First she thought, maybe she was just starstruck. After all, as soon as she arrived to that building, she was assigned to the case of the phantom thieves. Shinshia was in a country that was so different  to her native Spain, and she knew no one, besides this guy. A criminal. But he kept coming back when she was alone, giving her advice and listening to her troubles… And then a bond bloomed between them. So sudden, yet so natural, as if it was destined to happen.

“Shinshia,” Karamatsu called to her softly, pulling her from her thoughts, “I have a little present for you.”

“A present? Why?”

“Just a little something I got for you! It’s fine, I promise.”

Shinshia sighed. “Well, fine.”

His eye glittered as he clasped his hands happily. Gosh, what a big baby. “Good! Close your eyes, and don’t open them until I say you can, understand?” He said that last part in English, for some reason.

Strange request, but Shinshia did what he told her anyway, and closed her eyes. She could hear Karamatsu fumbling with something- not sure with what, but it was small, she supposed. He did say it was a little something, after all. Suddenly, she felt his hands on the sides of her head, playing with the locks of her hair. He put them back, and then she felt those same hair locks being slightly pulled back by something. She feels his warm hand linger on her chin, delicately caressing along her jawline before pulling away.

“Open your eyes.”

Shinshia opened her eyes, feeling really curious about what Karamatsu did. He took out a round pocket mirror and then he showed her: a blue hair bow was holding back her hair.

Karamatsu smiled at her softly. “Your hair is growing long, Shia-chan. It keeps getting in front of your eyes, doesn’t it?” She nodded, impressed. When did he notice her annoyance at her hair? It was such an insignificant detail. “Now I can see your cute face again.”

Shinshia looked down, feeling her face warm up. “T-Thanks.”

After he put the small mirror back in its place, he took an envelope out of the same pocket. He gave it to her. It would have looked like a normal letter, if it wasn’t for the small heart on the back… And the blue glitter. So painful.

“What is this?” Shinshia took the envelope and opened it. Inside there was a single piece of black paper with text in gold letters. “An invitation?”

“Observant as always! It’d make me very happy to see you there.”

“I’m not sure, Karamatsu… this is very sudden.”

“But, Shia-chan! It will be so much fun!” Karamatsu looked at her with puppy eyes. Uh, eye. “Do it for me. Please?” 

How was that working so well, what the hell. Shinshia sighed in defeat. “I will think about it.”

Feeling victorious yet again, Karamatsu took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Good night, Shia-chan. I hope to see you there.” Those were his last words before he turned around and walked away, quickly melting into the crowd. Now Shinshia Doremi was left alone at the doors of her workplace with her heart beating incredibly fast.

The detective looked down at the sparkly envelope. This thing was so shiny that it hurted to look at it for too long. It was so painful! It was so tacky!

“You're so troublesome.” she said to no one. She released a deep sigh.

She was in love with the blue phantom thief called Karamatsu.

Shinshia decided to attend to the party, after all.

She didn’t go to parties often… mostly because she wasn’t invited to any of them. But, if she was being honest with herself, the promise of meeting him again was too tempting to resist. Also, free food and drinks.

Woah. She really had to have a deep crush on the man of strange monologues, if she was going to ignore her insecurity just for him. What a guy, he was making miracles happen even when he wasn’t present.

So she got ready, donning the prettiest dress she could find inside her closet. She wore the blue bow he gifted her, and after checking herself in the mirror, she grabbed her clutch purse and left to the party.

“Even if Karamatsu isn’t there, it’s better than to be alone during Valentine’s day,” she thought as she locked the door of her house behind her.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

It was a Valentine’s dance party. It should have been obvious, considering the day it took place. But she wasn’t aware that Valentine’s Day parties existed at all. Of course they do, why wouldn’t they? Maybe the host was single as hell, and this was their attempt in trying to find a partner. Or maybe it was a Jay Gatsby trying to find their Daisy Buchanan. Yikes, hopefully not. 

Also, every celebration needs a party, obviously.

Somewhere, someone in the world will throw a party for Cat Day. Maybe they will put a silly little hat on top of their cat’s head, followed by the confused pet trying to swat it away with its little paws and failing as the owner was in the floor laughing to tears.

That turned to be a very amusing thought, after all. It’d be so funny if someone celebrated Cat Day like that. She didn’t even know if Cat Day existed at all, but now she really hoped that it did.

Back to reality, Shinshia grabbed a glass from the nearest table as she looked around, moving between the many guests that were having fun together. Where in the world was Karamatsu? How could a single man wearing a black eyepatch be so difficult to find among so many colorful outfits? Pretty sure his full name was Karamatsu Sandiego. A famous thief whose signature look features a blue, glittery matching top hat and long cape. Of course, it all checked out, she just solved the case.

The detective was so into her own dumb line of thought that she didn’t notice the carpet, and her shoe caught. There was barely time to react; carpet veered up, her drink tipped forward, and suddenly the floor was very close. Extremely close. However, she hadn’t bit it, and that didn’t quite make sense. Gravity existed, and through gravity, she should have hit the floor.

There was something holding her up. A hand, which connected to an arm, which led all the way to a well-tailored suit. A delicious, familiar fragrance reached her nose.

“Well now,” a voice purred so slowly, and hands turned her to face upwards. Karamatsu’s face slowly turned into a tender smile. “I see you decided to come after all, darling.”

“Ah, well…” Shinshia really couldn’t say much with her waist held so enticingly by those hands, as warm hands brushed up against her skin and tickled. “I... I had to make sure that you didn’t steal anything! There are many people here wearing valuable jewelry, I’m sure you’d manage to steal something.”

“Heh, it seems my plans were ruined by the great Shinshia once more!” Karamatsu continued onwards with that smile just deepening at her sight, and somehow, he seemed to be leaning a bit closer. The room rang with cheery laughter, and the party carried onwards without a single glance towards the thief and the detective.

“You always seem to be,” one hand caressed its fine way up to her shoulder, “Stumbling around me. I’m starting to wonder if you are tripping on purpose now, hmmm?”

He knew well she wasn’t doing it on purpose. But before she could complain about that, he pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her completely. The hand on her waist pulled her just a little closer that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. He laced his fingers with hers. “I enjoy our moments together, darling.”

The orchestra struck up a mesmerizing waltz, and Karamatsu’s eye perked up enough that Shinshia could practically see the lightbulb above his head.

“Let’s dance!” he invited her without a second thought, and Shinshia stumbled as Karamatsu guided her to the dance floor. A violin hummed and a key plucked, and then his hands were on her waist, a smile beaming away. 

Unexpectedly, he was good at the waltz. What the hell, that was not fair. Shinshia found herself tripping quite a lot, and the phantom thief just chuckled everytime she crashed into his body. It didn’t seem to phase him either, he just grinned all the wider and adjusted until she fell back into rhythm. 

Finally, somehow the rhythm came to Shinshia. Maybe it was the guiding steps of Karamatsu. Maybe it was the smile he gave her as she fumbled along. Or, perhaps, it was the hand he still had on her waist, caring as it kindly led her along despite her inexperience. Whatever it was, it had her steps synchronize with Karamatsu’s, and suddenly she started noticing other things: how his rings glistened in the light as Karamatsu led both of them through the swarm of couples, or how his brown eye never looked away from her face. Small details, yet they were such lovely little things that made her heart beat wildly inside the detective’s chest.

“Say, Shinshia.”

“Yes?”

“You said you came here to make sure I didn’t steal anything, right?”

Shinshia raised an eyebrow in confusion, but she nodded. Where was he going on with this? Was he actually going to do that? She told it as a joke, she didn’t want to work tonight.

“Heh, well, my beloved Shinshia... ” Karamatsu leaned down slightly and whispered. “I believe I already stole something.”

Shinshia didn’t really notice the song grew faster until a violin screeched in delight and suddenly Karamatsu was really close. When the song was over, he had dipped her just as the last violin ended with an exaggerated flourish. 

Karamatsu leaned forward, his lips brushing hers, and perhaps it hadn’t been such a bad thing, tripping over her own shoe. Not when she could feel him gaze at her in rapt adoration. Not when Karamatsu had her so lovingly wrapped in his hands, and clutching as if she was the most fragile, most precious thing in the world that had happened to him.

No, perhaps it was for the best.

[boat-dock]

“Knowing You is for the Better” chapter 12

lets be honest Rafael deserves a better story... also Hope and Josie are so smitten

Josie’s leg bounced erratically as she waited for her sister to meet her for lunch. She’d chosen a secluded spot away from people so they could talk without being interrupted by half the school who wanted their input on unimportant things, most days she wouldn’t mind but today she needed her sister’s attention. She shouldn’t be nervous. Their relationship had improved a lot over the past few months and Lizzie just wanted her to be happy, but she was still slightly terrified to tell her about her budding relationship with Hope.

At the thought of the tribrid Josie’s heart sped up and her cheeks flushed. She couldn’t believe that someone as amazing and beautiful as Hope could like her. She was plain, nothing special, just a normal teenage girl- with magic- but otherwise just like everyone else. Deep down she knew that this kind of thinking was a problem but that’s an issue to unravel for another time, perhaps on a day when the girl she’s been secretly in love with didn’t kiss her before class. 

She’s grinning to herself completely lost in thought when Lizzie shows up. Her twin notices something is up instantly, “ What happened?” she asked, smirking as she plopped down her plate across from Josie. 

“What- what makes you think something happened?” she stuttered taking a sip of her drink, trying to pretend that she wasn’t a mess. 

“Oh come on,” Lizzie answered, “ You’ve got starry eyes and…” her voice faded out as her face fell and turned sour. “Please tell me this isn’t about the she-devil.” 

Josie wanted to laugh. She should have been prepared for this, Hope had told her that Lizzie thought that she was going to get back with Penelope, it was a ridiculous thought. She cared for Penelope’s well being- she always would- but her heart belonged to Hope now, even this early in the relationship she felt like it always would.

“No this isn’t about Penelope I swear,” she laughed, watching her sister sag into her chair in relief. 

“Thank god.” 

Now came the hard part, Lizzie and Hope hadn’t always been the best of friends, in fact, they were enemies and it was Josie’s fault, but now they were close and Josie didn’t want anything to disrupt that. She would feel awful if she was the reason for another rift between the two. She pushed food mindlessly around her plate, “ this is about Hope actually.” 

Lizzie squinted at her, daring her to keep talking with a look, “ What about her?” 

“Well- um -well we,” Josie stumbled her way around her confession until Lizzie put her out of her misery.

“Oh my god are you two together?” her face was unreadable, a mix between disbelief and shock.

Josie took a deep steadying breath, “ Yeah we are,” she answered before she realized that that might now be true, “ well at least I think we are, we haven’t really talked about it.” 

A weight was lifted off her shoulders when Lizzie grinned at her and took her hand over the table, “ Finally,” she groaned with a good-hearted eye roll.   

“What? You knew?” Josie breathed, blood rushing to her cheeks. Embarrassment coursed through her at the thought of her sister noticing and speculating on her love life behind her back. She was used to being the one watching not being watched. 

“Of course,” she gloated,” You act completely different when you’ve got someone in your sights and Hope likes to think she's all mysterious and broody but as soon as you get to know her she’s an open book.” Neither statements were wrong. 

“You aren’t upset?” Josie asked, still shocked by Lizzie’s reaction. 

“Give me a little more credit Jo. I made my peace with you two the minute you started sleeping in her room more than ours,” Josie lowered her eyes, her cheeks heated once again, “ Does she make you happy?”  

The question throws her for a loop. This was the happiest she’d felt in a long time, Hope supported her and fought for her and always put Josie’s needs first. A small smile flick across her face, “ Yeah she does,” she sighed. 

“Good,” Lizzie commented, “ but if she screws this up I’ll have to kick her ass.” 

Josie shouldn’t have expected any less, “ You can try, “ she teased. 

Hope’s stomach was in knots as she made her way to the headmaster’s office, there was no way he knew her about her feelings for Josie but she still dreaded that she was about to get his strange version of shovel talk. She slowed her pace to a trudge, giving herself more time to stew.

That was a mistake. If she had known who was following her through the hallway she would have moved quicker. If she hadn’t been inside her head so much she would have heard or sensed Penelope Park trailing her unstealthily. 

Penelope grabbed her arm and jerked her to the side. When she got her wits about her and saw her, her stomach dropped. She had nothing to feel guilty for, Penelope and Josie had broken up a long time ago and Josie was completely allowed to date whoever she wanted whether Penelope was at the school or not. “We need to talk,” she said in a hushed voice glancing around like they were standing alone in a hallway. 

“Do we?” Hope answered, deciding that playing dumb was her best bet. 

Penelope rolled her eyes, “ We need to talk about Josie.” Hope sighed trying to think of the best way to get herself out of this conversation.

“Whatever you have to say you should say to her not me,” she retorted as she yanked her arm away and started back down the hallway, suddenly desperate to get Dr. Saltzman’s office, no matter what he needed to see her about. 

“I want to talk about the merge,” she called behind her, and Hope stopped dead in her tracks. The merge had been in the back of her mind since her talk with Josie on the roof in New Orleans, she’d gone through dozens of ideas and none had panned out or been realistic. She was at a dead-end but she didn’t want to talk to Penelope about it. 

Except, maybe Penelope had a plan, a plan that she was confident enough in to come to Hope with. Hope turned eyeing her, she couldn’t pass up an opportunity to save the twins no matter how much she wanted to, but she couldn’t handle it right now, not when she was needed in the headmaster’s office, “ Later,” she said, “ I’ll find you later. 

With that she turned and left, leaving Penelope in the dust. She walked the rest of the way in a daze until she was outside the door and knocking. The door swung open and she was greeted by a very uncomfortable looking Dr. Slatzman who ushered her in stiffly. 

Oh god, this was going to be about her and Josie. 

Caroline stood behind the desk and smiled kindly at her but stayed silent until Dr. Saltzman was back. Raf was there too, he sat wide-eyed and slightly pale and wouldn’t meet Hope’s eyes. She took the seat next to him, staying quiet until she knew for sure what this was about. 

“We’re so sorry to pull you out of class Hope but we thought that you could help with this situation,” Caroline’s voice was sweet as honey and steady, she seemed completely calm unlike everyone else in the room. 

“What’s going on?” she asked, worried. 

Dr. Saltzman cleared his throat, “ Well earlier in the school year while you were… away and Rafael was trapped in his wolf form, we did a heritage test to try and find a way to turn him back and we found his father by doing so,” Hope remembers back to the night they saved the Saltzmans from the prison world, she’d seen a man entering the school with Raf but at the time she didn’t know who he was. 

Still unsure of how this applied to her she forced her words out, “Wow that’s amazing congrats Raf,” she and Rafael had a bumpy history and their views on family differed drastically but nonetheless she was happy for him. He smiled numbly at her but didn’t say anything. 

“That’s actually not what we called you here to talk about,” Caroline commented, pushing the conversation back on track with ease.

“Yes we are actually here to talk about Rafael’s mother’s side of the family,” there was a dramatic pause like they expected her to put all the pieces together herself. She’s good but not that good. “You see, the only relative shown was very distant so we didn’t pay it any attention, but upon closer inspection, it appears that Rafael is from a very old and powerful werewolf bloodline.” 

Finally, they were getting somewhere. She blinked at Raf and cocked her head, she wanted him to talk but he was silent as ever so she asked,” What bloodline?” the only werewolf bloodlines that were prominent enough to show up on a lineage test were those of the seven original packs. They were powerful and ancient but now mostly nonexistent if the lines still survived they didn’t publicly announce their heritage due to the danger. 

Dr. Saltzman and Caroline cut their eyes at each other before continuing, “ The Malraux pack,” the words hung heavy in the air. The only thing that could have shocked her more would be if he had been from her pack, but this was a close second. 

She sucked in air through her nostrils loudly, “Woah,”

“Do you know what that means,” Rafael shot suddenly breaking out of his coma, “ because I sure as hell don’t and nobody will tell me anything.” his frustration was obvious and she couldn’t blame him. 

“We thought it would be best for Hope to explain since she has some experience with things like this,” Caroline said and Hope’s jaw clenched as she realized that they were dropping this on her. She had enough on her plate without trying to do their jobs as well. But as they scurried from the room, the weight of what this revelation meant hit her. Not only did Raf have more family out there -well one more family member to be exact- but that person was a part of her family also. 

She composed herself and tried to find the best way to explain what this meant for him. “Ok,” she started,” so this pack that you’re a part of is one of the seven original werewolf packs.” his eyes went even wider and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“And that’s a big deal?” he asked.

“Yes and no,” she answered,” it’s a big deal to some more traditional wolves but it’s safer for you to keep it on the down-low.

“Why?” he groaned 

“Umm well when the seven packs get together they can create some very powerful stuff and in the past, people have tried to take advantage of that,” she really hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions the answers were dark and she didn’t feel like going into it right now.

“So me being a Malraux that means I’m from some big and influential pack?” she couldn’t tell if he was hopeful or not. 

“Not exactly,” she chewed her bottom lip in thought, “ the Malraux’s are mostly extinct now, there’s only one left that I know of, but I can put you in contact with her if you want,” 

Hope held her breath. Keelin was one of the best people that she knew and she deserved the best things in the world. Raf did too. The longer she thought about it the happier she got for the two of them, each finding a long lost family member, she hoped they could be happy. When Raf didn’t answer quickly her heart sank and she quickly backtracked, “ But if you decided you don’t want to know her I’m sure she would understand.” 

This seemed to only confuse him more, “ You would tell her about me even if I wanted nothing to do with her?” 

Not telling Keelin never crossed Hope’s mind. “ Of course, she deserves to know as much as you do.” 

She was quiet now, letting him think things over. “What’s she like?” 

She smiled softly, happy to get the chance to gush about her family,” her name’s Keelin and she’s a doctor, from Texas but now lives in New Orleans,” he leaned closer in his chair as Hope pushed her hair out of her face,” she’s one of the kindest people I know, I mean she has to be to put up with me and my crazy-ass family.” 

The sun shown in through the windows and Hope wondered just how much class she was going to get out of today for this. “Why don’t you give her my email,” he mumbled causing Hope to grin from ear to ear. 

She was pretty sure that Keelin was working today and even though she was bursting to share the news she’d just learned, she knew that Keelin hated to be interrupted at work and that she wouldn’t be able to focus the rest of the day if she learned this now. “Of course,” she answered, “ I’ll call her first thing in the morning.”

She ducked out of the office after that and hoped that Dr. Saltzman and Caroline would go back in now and help him in ways that she couldn’t. 

She had a rather uneventful rest of the day, thankfully. She went to class after class and actually did her work and unsubtly watched Josie the whole time. She found herself skipping lunch and holding herself up in the library, searching in vain for any new information on the merge. 

She dragged herself back to her room at the end of the day tired and worn down but that all melted away when she found Josie waiting for her there. 

“Hey,” the younger girl piped up. Hope grinned and went to her, “Where did you disappear to today?” she asked.

“Your parent’s needed my help with something today,” she said vaguely. She would love to share everything that happened with Josie, but it wasn’t her story wasn’t her’s to tell.

“Care to share?” it wasn’t a push for information, it was just Josie reminding her that she was here to listen and help always. 

“I wish but it’s not mine to share,” Josie understood and dropped the subject. Hope wrapped her arms around her waist and pulled, relishing the closeness. She closed her eyes and sighed, letting herself relax into the younger girl’s arms.

“I talked to Lizzie today,” she said calmly. She knew Josie was nervous about telling her sister but Hope never was. Her run-in with Lizzie in the hallway earlier that day was enough to put her nerves at ease. 

“How’d it go?” she asked, resting her head on Josie’s shoulder. 

“Surprisingly well. She’s actually ok with this, us.” 

“Good,” Hope answered before climbing into bed and pulling Josie with her. The siphoner was peaceful in Hope’s arms, she could listen to the sound of her heartbeat forever, the soft reminder that this perfect girl was real and alive in her arms. And magically she had feelings for Hope despite everything, her past, her family, her actions, this girl still wanted to be with her. 

They held each other, silently just enjoying each other’s presence until Hope fell into a deep and fitful sleep.

[dusk-realm]

Chrysanthemum [Chapter 14: The Dueling Club]

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The news of a just formed Dueling Club spread like fire in the common rooms of all Houses. Someone had pinned a piece of parchment announcing it on the notice boards, but it didn’t say who would be in charge of it. (Y/N) felt a little bit giddy, and a little bit nervous too.

Duels! That would certainly be a challenge; she was curious to see how a wizard duel worked, and if it resembled in any way a muggle sword duel, like the ones she saw in movies. She was also a little bit afraid of the outcome, as she was still getting used to her wand. She was confident it would produce some stable spells (at least), but what if she ended up hurting someone? Her biggest fear was hurting one of her friends, truth be told.

(Y/N) also reflected about why a dueling club. Perhaps, the attacker terrorising Hogwarts was a living person, after all? No monster, and no paranormal stuff. Just a person you could fight off.

But if that was the case, no attacker would challenge anyone to a duel, right? That wasn’t a smart idea if you want to be sneaky and roam around the castle. A duel could mean being uncovered, or being defeated and caught. (Y/N) concluded that an assaulter (an intelligent one) would choose a surprise attack over a combat, and that the idea of a dueling club as such would turn out rather useless for anyone lacking reflexes or simply sheer intuition.

Whose idea was this?!

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That same night, (Y/N) walked into the Great Hall at 8 pm sharp together with a handful of other Slytherins, although the place was already quite packed with students with their wands in hand. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead, and the ceiling was velvety black.

‘Mione!’ (Y/N) greeted, making her way to her friend. The group also greeted the Slytherin, who asked:

‘Any idea of who’ll be teaching us?’

‘Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young — maybe it’ll be him.’ The witch answered.

‘As long as it’s not —’ Harry began, but he ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black. Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called:

‘Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!’

‘Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works.’ He took a little pause to look pridefully at the crowd beneath him, and then continued:

‘Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,’ said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. ‘He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry — you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!’ ‘Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?’ Ron muttered in Harry’s ear. (Y/N) heard it too and clenched her fist until her nails dug into her palm, but she said nothing.

How dare he?!

Snape’s upper lip was curling. (Y/N) had never seen Severus letting his thoughts slip so easily. He was looking as though he was planning on killing Lockhart before feeding him to the giant squid.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

‘As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,’ Lockhart told the silent crowd. ‘On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on that,’ Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth. (Y/N) giggled softly as she watched her mentor as well.

‘One — two — three —’ Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried:

‘Expelliarmus!’ There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Draco Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. (Y/N) didn’t, as she was staring too in awe to articulate a sound. She was aware of Severus’ wide knowledge about the Dark Arts, but she had never seen him really do anything with it, let alone cast such a powerful spell.

Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. 

‘Do you think he’s all right?’ she squealed through her fingers.

‘Who cares?’ said Harry, (Y/N) and Ron together. Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

‘Well, there you have it!’ he said, tottering back onto the platform. ‘That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I’ve lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying  so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…’

(Y/N) could hardly bear with how ridicously unbalanced both teachers were, and she had to do a titanic effort to avoid laughing loudly.

Severus Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, ‘Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me —’

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry and Ron first.

‘Time to split up the dream team, I think,’ he sneered. ‘Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter —’ Harry moved automatically toward Hermione. ‘I don’t think so,’ said Snape, smiling coldly. ‘Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let’s see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger — you can partner Miss Bulstrode. Miss (Y/L/N)...’ he paused for a second, studying her features. ‘You go with Miss Parkinson.’

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s stomach dropped to her feet, watching her tormentor come closer sporting a cruel smile.

‘Face your partners!’ called Lockhart, back on the platform. ‘And bow!’

(Y/N) barely inclined her head, and so did Pansy, too full of herself to bow in front of (Y/L/N).

‘Wands at the ready!’ shouted Lockhart. ‘When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents — only to disarm them — we don’t want any accidents — one . . . two . . . three —’

(Y/N) tried to keep a steady pose, but she saw how the point of her wand shaked, unable to aim properly. Her feet couldn’t keep their balance, and her heart thumped hard against her ribcage, trying to escape from the danger. She was sure that Pansy wouldn’t just try to disarm her, that she would try to hurt her. It was difficult to draw air into her lungs, and her tongue felt leathery against her dried out palate.

Pansy attacked first, not waiting for the three. (Y/N) couldn’t quite make out which spell she pronounced through the buzzing inside her ears, but it sent her straight to the floor, landing painfully on her back.

Lockhart was running around and screaming like a headless chicken, trying to restore order in the middle of the havoc he himself had allowed to unleash.

‘I said disarm only!’ Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, ‘Stop! Stop!’ He screamed, but nobody listened, or feared him enough to obey, until Severus’ voice raised:

‘Finite Incantatem!’ he shouted, and (Y/N) looked around.

A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and his partner were lying on the floor, panting; Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor. (Y/N) tried to get up and aid her friend, but luckily, Harry, who was closer, leapt forward and pulled Millicent off with great effort. She then glanced up to look at Severus, who was watching from afar, looking utterly displeased.

‘Dear, dear,’ said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. ‘Up you go, Macmillan. . . . Careful there, Miss Fawcett. . . . Pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot —’

‘I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,’ said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape too, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. (Y/N), on the contrary, glared at the D.A.D.A professor with hatred as she got back up to her feet. Could there be a worse instructor? She didn’t think so.

Then, with Professor Snape’s intervention, Draco Malfoy and Harry were chosen to do a demonstration on whatever Lockhart wanted to teach next. The scene was just pathetic to watch from outside. Lockhart attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action while explaining Harry what he had to do, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up.

‘Whoops — my wand is a little overexcited —’

(Y/N) thought it was rather polite of her Head to avoid laughing loudly at the lame exemplification of Lockhart.

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too.

Everyone gathered around the stage, watching the performance that was about to happen. (Y/N) was sure that Malfoy would win, for the sole reason that he had a competent teacher on his side.

‘Three — two — one — go!’ he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly.

‘Serpensortia!’ He bellowed.The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

‘Don’t move, Potter,’ said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. 

‘I’ll get rid of it. . . .Allow me!’ shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry walked forward and his tongue flicked against his front teeth, producing soft hisses. The crowd watched in horror, and Harry grinned at Justin.

‘What do you think you’re playing at?!’ he shouted, and then turned and stormed out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look.

Murmurs began rising in the room, and then Ron steered Harry out of the Hall, and Hermione hurriedly accompanied them.

Severus managed to calm down the students, and the session went on for a while.

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As soon as (Y/N)’s eyes fluttered open the next morning, a smile crept to the corner of her lips, remembering the previous day. She turned around to look at her wand, which rested on the nightstand. In the end, she had been able to cast a potent Expelliarmus that nearly made Pansy backflip, right when Severus was looking.

She stirred her body and reached for it, holding it delicately between her fingers.

The dim light was barely enough to let her see the carvings of her wand, and she finally decided to get up.

First, she grabbed her clothes from the trunk and closed the curtains surrounding her bed for privacy, and then, she took off her pyjamas.

(Y/N) examined her naked skin; new bruises were starting to emerge in places they usually didn’t, probably due to the previous day’s duels.

Fantastic, she thought, observing the mixture of the yellowish older ones, the new blue ones and some of a burgundy tone that were still forming. Those were usually the most painful ones, so she avoided touching them. Once she had her robes on, (Y/N) flung open the curtains with both hands and sat on the bed, with her feet hanging. She had her stockings on already, and she only needed to put on her shoes now.

(Y/N) slid down just enough for her feet to touch the floor, but…

Eh?

Her shoes weren’t where she remembered leaving them last night.

Maybe I left them under the bed....

And she kneeled down, and checked under. There was a small bag with a stock of biscuits she had been hoarding, but no shoes at sight.

Strange… Maybe I put them in the trunk and forgot?

(Y/N) hurriedly crawled to the trunk and opened it… 

Nope.

Just the few scattered clothes she still had from Severus and school stuff.

(Y/N) had been trying hard to suppress her uneasiness, but now it was really getting to her.

Under the bed, I need to check under the bed again.

But the biscuits bag laid in the same place, by itself. Still no shoes.

Perhaps I haven’t looked right.

And she turned around to look at where they should have been.

Maybe someone kicked them? 

She proceeded to look under the neighbouring beds, feeling bad about snooping around, but nothing of hers was to be found there.

(Y/N) stood in the middle of the empty room for almost a minute with a blank stare, inmobile.

That is, until a burning rage switched something inside her brain, and she kicked her mattress with anger once, twice, three times, until it was displaced and her foot hurted.

Then, (Y/N) plopped down on the dismantled bed and felt her eyes swell quickly with tears.

Now what? She couldn’t just run around barefoot! People would notice!

She thought hard of something to obtain a new pair of shoes without anybody knowing.

Maybe… she could transfigure something else into a new pair of shoes?

That might work.

(Y/N) got up again, and searched the dorm for a pair of objects that resembled shoes.

Socks, perhaps? No… as silly as it may look, (Y/N) couldn’t visualise socks as anything else other than socks, which was quite necessary in order to transform something into something else. It was all about focusing, and creating the most detailed model in your mind you could achieve.

She was pacing around, groaning in frustration as she squeezed out her brain for a solution, when a face came to her mind.

It was a face framed by a frizzy mane, and it had a bossy air to it…

Hermione!

If there was anyone in the castle that could help her discreetly, that was Hermione Granger.

(Y/N) put on an extra pair of stockings to protect her feet from the cold stone floors and left the dormitories with renewed hopes.

The Slytherin first checked the Great Hall from outside; the long tables were back in their correspondent place, but Hermione was not there.

Then, (Y/N) proceeded to search through the hallways, but.. nothing.

Last night, a blizzard had started falling, so all classes taking place outdoors were cancelled. (Y/N) assumed that Hermione would be in the Library, catching up in her free time, but she was wrong. At least, Madam Pince seemed satisfied with (Y/N)’s extra muffled steps, because she gave her the tiniest of the smiles. (Y/N) somehow felt privileged, doubting anyone alive or dead in the castle had ever seen the librarian smile.

The girl walked back to the dorm in disappointment. The one time she really needed Hermione, and she was probably in the common room! She sped up her pace, wanting to arrive to arrive to her own common room before the students began emptying the classrooms.

She reflected on the situation; why had her shoes vanished?

She was sure to have left them by the bed’s side, and one does not just go and lose their shoes, right?

Could someone from the dorm have borrowed them? What kind of person borrows your shoes without leaving at least a note?! 

Was this a prank for hanging out too much with the Gryffindors?

(Y/N) bumped right into her answer; turning around a corner in the dungeons, she ran into something big and bulky, but also soft.

When she looked up, she saw Millicent Bulstrode smiling with malice, and Pansy’s ugly pug face popped up from behind her.

‘Looking for something, (Y/L/N)?’

Then, it clicked in her brain.

Of course, who else would be willing to steal anyone’s shoes almost in winter?

Who would feel the imperative need to harass someone that never really wanted to have anything to do with her to begin with? 

Who could be sore with (Y/N)?

Pansy Parkinson.

The answer to all of those questions was Pansy Parkinson.

(Y/N) glared with narrowed eyes at the girl,

‘You! It was you!’ She yelled, and Pansy and Bulstrode cackled in unison.

‘This isn’t funny Pansy!’ (Y/N) moved to the side in order to face Pansy. Bulstrode tried to grab her by the arm, but only grasped air. ‘Give them back! NOW!’

[prettywordsyouleft]

Petulant

Request: #183 – “It’s been three weeks, let it go already.”

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: playful fluff

Warnings: jealous partner

Word count: 1033

You could sense his mood was off by the effort Jinyoung put into placing each dish down on top of the other. He knew you were affected by noise, and the clanking of the crockery one after the other was bothering you more than it should. You approached your boyfriend and frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

He shot you a dark expression, his gaze slowly looking you over, leaving you feeling insulted. So you had done something wrong then. Racking your brain for the obvious answer to Jinyoung’s bristly mood, you came up at a loss.

Sighing heavily, you took the stack of plates he had made and put them away in the cupboard. “What did I do wrong today?”

“Nothing.”

That didn’t mean you hadn’t done something to bother him, though it did indicate it wasn’t today. You groaned internally, you hated trying to put puzzles together at the best of times. And his petulant avoidance of answering you honestly like any other human would was irking you just as much as the clatter of the cutlery he was now pulling out from the dishwasher and chucking down into the drawer.

“Park Jinyoung!”

“Oh what, Y/N? You asked me to put away the dishes and I am!”

“You’re in a mood with me!”

He didn’t immediately respond, which was more of a definite answer than any words would have been. Composing himself, he went back to retrieving items from the machine. “If you don’t remember then forget about it.”

“You petty asshole!” you cried and he snapped his gaze to you, offended at your use of words. “Just tell me what it is so I don’t murder you for trying to make me figure it out instead!”

“Why are you wearing that?” he wondered, staring at your dress as if he was seeing more than the garment. You frowned, looking down at the outfit you had chosen for the day.

“I had a meeting at work. And it’s your favourite dress of mine, so why not wear it?”

“No it’s not,” he answered curtly, turning back to the task at hand.

You watched him in confusion until you couldn’t take it and nudged him. “Why don’t you like this dress anymore?”

“I never liked it.”

“You bought it because you knew it would look good on me. Does it suddenly not look good anymore?”

His gaze was hard and Jinyoung stared at the pot he had just pulled out for a moment too long. It was enough time for you to recollect memories from when you last wore it. You scoffed loudly. “Really, is that it? Jinyoung it’s been three weeks, let it go already!”

“I just don’t like that dress,” he reiterated, putting away the pan. “Maybe you should donate it. We can go out and get some new items for your-”

“I’m not giving away this dress because you can’t let go of what happened that night. It was innocent and you know it.”

Jinyoung pressed his lips together in a firm line, his breath coming out through his nose in almost a snort. Finally, he turned to you. “Humour me.”

“I did that night. I tried to take it from your point of view but it’s been three weeks. Are you going to associate Jackson wrapping an arm around me every time I put this dress on?” You stared at Jinyoung and let out a hollow laugh when his gaze flitted away to avoid answering you. “You’re unbelievable! I know you hold grudges but Jinyoung, this is just so petty of you! Jackson is your friend!”

“A friend who before we started dating openly told all of our classmates how much he was attracted to you.”

“That was four years ago! Wow, you’re a piece of work!”

You moved out of the kitchen and Jinyoung followed you, suddenly more interested in continuing the argument you were having than avoiding it like previously. You glowered at him and Jinyoung nodded. “Okay, so I have a problem. But can you blame me? You look exceptional in this dress.” His eyes flashed with something and you groaned before he could complete his thought process. “And you went to a meeting in it?!”

“Does it belong to you? Does my body need your permission to wear what it wants to?!” you cried and you could see his answer forming on the tip of his tongue. You shook your head incredulously. “Don’t answer that!”

“Jackson promised me he would never put me in a position to doubt that he’d gotten over you and was just friends with you. It looked like he forgot that on that night and that’s why I’m annoyed about it.”

“We are friends. And even if he harbours some kind of interest towards me still, I never have. I only see him as a friend because apparently, I like my men to hold ridiculous grudges and act childish because he felt threatened!”

“Now Y/N, that’s going too far,” he warned and you glared at Jinyoung again. “Fine. Wear the dress! Wear it wherever you want to and let everyone take you in your absolute glory and don’t worry about me having a mental breakdown because my beautiful girlfriend is out there letting the whole world see what makes me crazy about her!”

You watched him breathing heavily from his outburst and failed to stifle your laughter. He shot you a dark look, which only made you laugh harder. Once you were done, you shook your head at the situation but shifted to slip your arms around his waist. “You’re adorable even if you are ridiculous.”

“Don’t start thinking I’m cute. Right now I am not being cute!”

“Jinyoung, you got into a sulky mood all because of a dress. Shall I take it off?” Your hands moved to the back of your dress for the zip but he stopped you, eyes flashing with another emotion instead. Jinyoung licked at his lower lip and shook his head, his gaze now reckless. “So I need to keep it on?”

“Whatever you do, you drive me crazy, you know that, right?”

You reached up to kiss him before smirking. “The feeling’s mutual.”

_________________

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Thank you for waiting on this section! Hope you enjoy :)

“Mari!”

Marinette tried to turn, but her body–where was she?

“La Mariquita!”

She watched as a little girl ran up to her, throwing herself around Marinette’s legs.

She watched as her body–of its own volition–moved, gloved hand going down to stroke the girl’s face.

The girl smiled, pressing her face into her hand.

She looked up at Marinette, and begin to speak

The language she spoke was not French, but Marinette understood it all the same.

I’m so glad you’re ok! She said. My mama and papa said they saw you running earlier and they were worried for you.

Marinette’s brow furrowed

But how would she respond?

How did you get out little one? The words formed on her lips before she had time to ponder further.

The girl smiled. I snuck out the back door when mama wasn’t looking to come and see if you were alright.

She pursed her lips. Iappreciate your concern little one, but your mama and papa must be worried sick. We should get you back home.

The little girl nodded, and Marinette hoisted up in her arms.

The girl giggled, and Marinette took off.

The smell of gunpowder filled the air, and she came to an abrupt stop.

Marinette moved towards a nearby window.

She stared at the reflection, hands moving to smooth her long black hair, to re-pin the rose behind her ear.

Her eyes flicked over her shoulder, where two men stood in the streets. She continued to pretend to preen, flicking a nonexistent piece of dirt from her frock.

Marinette–no, La Mariquita–wore a red and black off the shoulder dress, similar to the ones she’d seen flamenco dancers wearing. But instead of heels or flats, she wore knee high, black leather boots, and long, elegant gloves, the red standing out against her brown skin.

The little girl shifted in her arms. Why did we stop?

La Mariquita smiled down at her. Apologies little one. She deposited her on the ground behind a stack of crates. Stay here, and stay out of sight. I’ll be right back.

The little girl nodded. I will, I promise.

Mariquita took out her yoyo.

---

Alya lay on the ground, twisting the bracelet around her wrist. The sun had long since come up, and Marinette showed no signs of stirring.

She closed her eyes again, savoring the sun filtering in through the window.

Her stomach growled.

She opened an eye, and pulled up her phone.

Alya sat up. It was already one in the afternoon. She grabbed her glasses, and opened the trapdoor to the kitchen, doing her best to make sure it didn’t creak.

She headed downstairs, grabbing a plate from the cabinet, and opened the fridge.

---

Marinette perched on the roof.

She scanned her surroundings, savoring the way the cool night air nipped at the little bit of her skin that was exposed.

A chunk of hair fell into her eyes and she batted it back, shoving it back under her cowl with a huff.

Her eyes involuntarily narrowed, focusing on someone on the path below her.

There.

The man walked below her, hand on the butt of the katana sheathed at his side.

Marinette–no, Tentomushi–crouched, and padded across the roof, following the man.

Her soft tunic and trousers left her movements unencumbered, which she appreciated.

She dropped down behind him, marveling at how little sound her landing made.

The man walked into an alleyway.

She followed, moving her left hand back.

Marinette noted the wicked looking contraption on her hand. If she’d had control of her body, she would have flinched.

It was three blades, lined up with her knuckles, like one of the heroes from those comics Alya lent her as “beginner’s readings.”

She examined her reflection in the blades. Sharp black eyes peered back at her. The eyes flicked back up towards the man, and her hands pulled out the yoyo, pulling the line taut between her hands.

Her stomach sank.

This would not end well for him.

---

Alya took butter, a green bell pepper, an onion, a carton of eggs, and a container of rice out of the fridge.

She scooped the rice into a bowl, put a damp paper towel over it, and placed it in the microwave.

Alya opened up the cabinet next to the oven, and pulled out a pan.

She grabbed a knife and a spatula from a drawer, and a cutting board from the cabinet over the stove. After washing off the bell pepper, she cut it in half, and diced the half. She coarsely chopped the onion.

Setting that aside, she placed the pan on the stove.

Turning on the heat, she cut off a knob of butter from the stick, and put it in the pan to melt. Once the butter had melted, she put the onions in the pan.

When they started to become translucent, she took them back out, cracking two eggs into the pan.

She paused.

Another two eggs went into the pan.

She broke the yolks and swirled the eggs around, but the side crumpled, ruining the omelet.

Cursing, she broke up the eggs.

Guess we’re making a scramble,” she said.

She unceremoniously dumped her peppers and onions into the pan, and pushed them around to cook.

While they were cooking, she cleaned the cutting board and knife, and tidied up her workspace.

Once the eggs were almost fully solidified, she put a dash of salt on them.

The microwave chimed, and she pulled out the bowl of rice, depositing half of the scramble on top.

The other half went onto her plate.

She grabbed a tray, and placed the bowl, a pair of chopsticks, and a glass of orange juice on it.

Grabbing the tray, she carefully ascended the stairs to Marinette’s room.

She popped open the trapdoor, and placed the tray on Marinette’s desk, then went back downstairs to grab her plate.

When she returned, Marinette’s whole room smelled like peppers and rice, but Marinette still slept like a log.

Alya smiled to herself.

That girl could sleep through the apocalypse.

She grabbed the tray from Marinette’s desk, and climbed up onto her bed, sitting at the edge.

Balancing the tray on her lap, she took Marinette by the shoulder.

“Hey sleepyhead, it’s time to wake up.”

Marinette groaned, and turned over. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled.

“Well I guess I’ll have to eat this homemade breakfast all by myself,” Alya replied.

Marinette looked over her shoulder, bleary eyes struggling to focus on her friend.

“What’dyoumake?”

“Egg scramble and rice.”

Marinette sat up, rubbing her eyes.

Alya placed the tray in her lap.

“Oh this looks delicious Alya,” Marinette said.

She hesitated.

Alya sighed. “But,”

“Do you mind getting me something sweet to go with it? I feel pretty groggy–” Marinette said, an apologetic smile on her face “–and I think having something with sugar will help.”

Alya nodded. “I’ll go grab you a cookie.”

She went back downstairs and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from the container on the counter.

Heading back up, she handed it to Marinette, who accepted with a quick “thank you.”

Alya smiled. “Eat up, I’m gonna go clean up the kitchen and I’ll be back.”

Marinette nodded in appreciation, mouth already full of egg.

---

Tikki peeked out, looking at Marinette with bleary eyes. “It was awfully nice of Alya to make you breakfast Marinette,” she said.

Marinette smiled, and handed her the cookie. Tikki took a massive bite.

“Sorry I didn’t feed you last night, I was just–”

“–tired.” Tikki swallowed, then looked at Marinette. “You had to manage the power of creation last night. I can deal with being tired for a few hours.”

Marinette fidgeted with her hands.

Tikki tilted her head. “What’s wrong Marinette?”

“I heard everything Alya said when she was akumatized, and,” she pressed her lips together. “She sounded so sad, and so regretful. But–” She cut herself off.

I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive her.

Tikki sighed. “Just because someone is remorseful doesn’t mean you have to forgive them Marinette.” She took another bite of the cookie, then continued.

“I was too hard on you last night. I did not understand why you lashed out. But when we got swapped, I could feel your hurt, and–” she shuddered “–it was so hard to control. I could barely focus. All I could think about was here was this girl who loves my chosen, but is the source of so much of her pain. And I felt betrayed.”

She paused. “Remorseful or not, whether or not you ever choose to forgive her is your decision.”

Marinette chewed on her lip.

Tikki tilted her head. “What is on your mind Marinette? I’d think this topic would have your full attention.”

Marinette sighed. “It would normally, but I had these really weird dre–”

“–Okay, now that that’s taken care of, let me eat my eggs because I am hungry,” Alya said, flinging open the trapdoor and climbing into the room.

Tikki dove back under the covers.

Marinette shoved rice in her mouth, giving a muffled hum of approval.

The two sat in silence while they ate their rice.

“So,” Alya, started. “About last night–”

“–I don’t blame you for what happened.”

Alya looked away.

Marinette sighed. “Look, I’m not going to apologize for what I said last night, I meant it. But…I could have worded it better.”

Alya nodded. “You were right though. What I was describing wasn’t healthy. Us needing one another to function isn’t healthy.”

The two sat in silence.

“Alya I…I’m not sure I’m ready to fully forgive you yet. I love you and I still want to be friends but–”

“–hurt takes time to heal. I get that girl. Take your time.”

Marinette nodded in appreciation.

Alya scratched her neck. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Oh no! I still want to hang out just–”

Sabine knocked on the trapdoor, and popped the door open. “Sorry to interrupt girls, but there’s someone at the door who wanted to check in on Marinette.”

Marinette furrowed her brows. “I’ll be right down.”

Sabine smiled, and closed the trapdoor.

Marinette walked behind her screen and began to get changed.

“I wonder who it is,” Alya said.

“No clue,” Marinette responded. “But if mom came to get me, it’s obviously someone we know. Hopefully it isn’t Adrien, I just–” Marinette sighed. “–I can’t deal with him right now.”

Alya shot up. “I got you girl, I’ll go check.”

She was down the stairs before Marinette could protest.

Marinette hummed, pulling on her jacket.

Alya burst back in.

“It’s Kagami.”

---

The Dupain-Cheng’s had let Kagami into the family room, inviting her to sit down, make herself at home.

She sat on the edge of one of the armchairs, eyeing the plate of cookies they’d set in front of her.

They smelled delicious.

Surely, mother wouldn’t know if she took one–

Marinette came scrambling down the stairs, and Kagami quickly withdrew her hand, standing up to greet her.

“Hello Marinette,” she said, a genuine smile on her face.

Kagami looked behind Marinette and her lip curled.

The reporter had come down with her.

Now, Kagami did not have anything against her per se, but the girl had a habit of shutting down Marinette, being all too nosy about everyone’s personal life, and enabling Lila.

So maybe she did have something against her.

“Hi Kagami! What brings you here?” Marinette’s eyes widened. “Not that I mind you being here, I just am curious if there was anything in particular that brought you over here on this specific day since I know you have fencing practice later and,” Marinette paused. “I’m rambling.”

Kagami smiled again. Another genuine smile! And this one got a smile in return from Marinette! 

“It is not a problem. I stopped by to check in on you. I heard about what happened last night–” she willed herself to not look over at Alya. “–and I wanted to check and see how you were holding up. I sent you a text message, but I did not get a response, so I thought I would come over and check in.”

“Oh!” Marinette grabbed her phone from her pocket.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see your message,” she lamented.

“That is quite alright,” Kagami said (though she would admit she was a bit disappointed. She had crafted the perfect emoji chain after all)

Marinette smiled. “I really appreciate you coming over to check on me Kagami. Would you like to come upstairs and hang out with Alya and I?”Kagami looked back and forth between the two girls.

Alya’s face made it clear she was not keen on the idea.

Kagami smiled at Marinette. “I would love to.”  

[the-truest-sentence-i-know]

Shared Life Experiences

Chapter Three: Seven Minutes in Heaven (Read Ch1, Ch2)

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Steve Rogers x James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes (Stucky)

Summary:  So much has changed in the seventy years that Steve was under, and now, in the 21st century, he realizes that he no longer has to hide those parts of himself that he used to.

But it isn't that easy, because when Bucky comes back into his life, he remembers all those feelings they’d had to hide back then that they wouldn’t have to now. But he isn't sure if that’s what Bucky wants - because it's been a while and feelings may have changed.

ao3 | ff.net | wattpad

“So, are they, like, a thing?” Clint asked Nat after supper one day when he was visiting the tower.

Nat shrugged. “Not officially. They definitely used to be a thing, but now they’re just kinda… dancing around each other.”

Clint nodded and looked over at Steve and Bucky who were sitting on the couch talking quietly.

“I know that look,” Nat said. “You’re not gonna make us play Spin the Bottle again, are you?”

“I stand by that decision,” Clint said confidently. “It was fun and informative. I discovered that basically none of us are straight – which was new information for more than one of our teammates.” He looked pointedly over at Tony and Bruce.

“True.”

“And I found out that Thor is a great kisser.”

“Alright, I get it.” Nat smiled. “But what are you planning for them?”

“Just another good ol’ classic game originally played by preteens that makes on confront their feelings.” He grinned before turning to the rest of the group. “Anyone up for a fun game of Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

 “This is ridiculous,” Bruce said as they all wrote their names on pieces of paper and tossed them into a bowl.

“Yeah, what are we, twelve?” Tony chimed in.

“Remember how much Spin the Bottle did for the group?” Clint asked. “This will help us work together better.”

Nat rolled her eyes but tossed her name into the bowl as well.

“I’m a little confused,” Steve said, gamely writing his name down as well. “How does this game work?”

“It’s quite simple,” Clint said, mixing up the slips of paper in the bowl. “Two names are drawn at random and then they have to spend seven minutes in a dark, enclosed space together.” He looked around. “Like a broom closet or something.”

“A closet?” Bucky asked, incredulously.

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit on the nose for all of us,” Clint said. “Bear with me.”

“But what’s the point of the game?” Steve asked.

“It gives horny teenagers a chance to make out,” Nat said.

“Or, adults who are bad at expressing their feelings.” Clint wiggled his eyebrows. “So, for our first two lucky candidates.” He paused dramatically as he fished around the bowl for the two slips of paper. He noticed Steve and Bucky glance at each other, one right after the other, so they just missed each other. He grinned. The tension was there, now all that was needed was opportunity. He read the names off the two slips he’d chosen. “Steve… and Bucky.”

They looked at each other again; smiling nervously, unsure how to react. There really wasn’t that much difference between them and the kids who normally played this game, Clint thought. Adults should really play this more often to force them to confront their feelings.

“Alright, you two,” Tony said, quite enthusiastically. “Into the clo- Well, you know.”

Nat noticed her feeling of excitement with slight embarrassment as the door closed behind them. She wasn’t some teenager at a party happy that her friend got with a boy they liked. But she did really want them to get together already. Even if it was partly to get Steve to stop asking her for advice. He tried to disguise it but was surprisingly bad at lying.

“Hey, Nat, I need some advice about this story I’m writing.” That was the first one.

“I thought you were an artist, not a writer.”

“I am, but I’m trying out new hobbies.”

“Okay, what do you need help with?”

“So, the main character has a love interest,” he said. “and, basically, this character wants to tell them how they feel, but I don’t want it to be some big cheesy speech, you know?”

She’d almost called it out. She would’ve been about to tease him forever about it. Maybe if this game really worked, she could tease him about it after.

Instead, she’d said, “If this character wants it to be really meaningful, have them tell them in a quiet moment, just between the two of them. And just be honest – no big planned speech or anything.” She smiled. “The words and feelings they describe should be the central focus, not the gesture.”

Steve smiled. “That was beautiful, Nat. I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

“And if you tell anyone about it, I will deny it and they will believe me.”

He nodded. “Got it. Thanks for the advice.”

 On the other side of the closet door, Steve and Bucky had settled into seated positions on the floor. In the almost complete darkness, Steve could only just make out Bucky’s silhouette.

“So,” Bucky said, drawing out the word. “I guess we’re just gonna sit here for seven minutes.”

“I guess,” Steve said quietly.

They were both quiet for a little bit.

“Not exactly new for us, though,” Bucky said finally.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked. “The literal or the figurative closet.”

Bucky chuckled. “Well, both, I guess, but I mean, you and me and dark spaces have a lot of history.”

Steve wished he could see Bucky’s expression. From his voice alone it was difficult to tell what exactly he meant by that. “True.”

Another long pause.

“How long do you think it’s been?” Steve asked.

“I dunno,” Bucky said. “Maybe three minutes.” He paused. “Do you think Clint picked us on purpose?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Steve said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he suggested the game with the sole intention of getting us in here together.”

“Huh,” Bucky said. “I can respect that.”

In the silence that followed, Steve began to hum ‘Cheek to Cheek.’ Maybe telling Bucky how he felt right now wasn’t the best idea, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t test the waters first.

“Been listening to some old familiar tunes?” Bucky asked.

“Not really,” Steve said. “You played it the other day, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky said. “I’d always thought it was way to cheesy, but now, I kinda like it.”

“Mm, it does have an element of comfort to it.”

It was quiet again.

“Did Peggy know?” Bucky asked suddenly. He didn’t need to elaborate but did anyway. “About you and me?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “She knew before I told her, before she’d even met you.”

“Couldn’t keep your mouth shut about me, huh, Steve?” Bucky knocked a knee against Steve’s. “She must’ve been like, ‘Why’s he so obsessed with this guy?’ and then she met me and was like, ‘Oh, I get it. He’s hot, funny –”

“Alright, alright,” Steve said, laughing and trying to swat at Bucky in the darkness. “I can guarantee you, she did not think that.”

“Oh, was she into the ladies?” Bucky asked. “We sure seem to hold the acquaintance of a lot of lesbians, bi and pan girls.”

“Yeah, that night, I’m pretty sure she and Katherine and on of the Star-Spangled dancers had a rendezvous.”

“Was that the red-head?” Becky asked. “She was good looking, and her legs…”

“Alright,” Steve said, rolling his eyes.

“What, Steve, are you jealous?” Bucky reaches forward and patted Steve’s arm. “You know I’ve only got eyes for you, baby.”

Instantly, they both froze, and Steve felt Bucky’s muscles tense. They had just crossed the line into romantic territory. The easiest thing to do at this point was to play it off, but neither of them really wanted to do that – they weren’t straight guys dealing with homoeroticism.

The other option was, of course, to just go for it and confess their feelings, but before a decision could be made either way, the door of the closet opened and light flooded the small space, momentarily blinding them.

Clint, Nat, Tony, and Bruce peered in at them and Steve and Bucky blinked at them.

“Damn, they’re not even making out,” Clint said.

“Maybe because this game is for thirteen-year-olds,” Nat said, rolling her eyes.

 The next day, Steve hesitated a moment before knocking on Bucky’s door. “Hey, Buck,” he called. “ready to go?”

The door opened and Bucky stood there, in athleticwear and his hair tied back. Steve would never say it, but he loved it when Bucky wore his hair up.

“Yep,” said Bucky, “Let’s go.”

Soon they were the Central Park, running down the paved paths. They didn’t speak much; they didn’t normally, but today was especially quiet.

At a narrower part of the path, someone coming the other way knocked into Bucky’s shoulder slightly. Bucky stumbled a bit but quickly regained his footing.

“You alright, Buck?” Steve asked from behind him. his hands had shot out to study him but stopped just short of touching him.

Bucky didn’t say anything but kept running, so Steve assumed he was fine.

He started to up his pace though, to the point where Steve knew even he couldn’t keep it up for long. He noticed Bucky flexing his fingers and realized something was wrong.

He was about to suggest they stop for a bit, when he noticed a tremble in Bucky’s leg and managed to have the presence of mind to grab his arms before he fell. Bucky was trembling all over and Steve noticed how his eyes darted all over the place. His breathing was shallow.

Still holding his arms, Steve asked. “Buck? You good?” His eyes flitting over Bucky’s face in concern

Bucky shook his head slightly. He seemed to try to focus his vision on Steve’s face, but his eyes kept flicking elsewhere.

“What do you need me to do?” Steve asked, growing aware of the odd looks they were getting.

“I need to go home,” Bucky whispered.

Steve nodded. “Okay, I’ve got you.”

As he led Bucky back towards the tower, and Bucky’s strides grew stronger, Steve dropped his arm from where it had rested on his shoulders. But Bucky quickly grabbed his hand and held it like a lifeline.

Back in Avengers Tower, they stepped into the element wordlessly, still holding hands. Bucky leaned against Steve slightly. Steve looked down at him and saw that his eyes were closed tightly and his free hand – his metal hand – was clenched in a fist.

When the elevator dinged, Bucky tensed again, and Steve squeezed his hand comfortingly and put his free hand on Bucky’s shoulder. As the elevator door opened and they stepped out, Steve saw Nat, Clint, and Tony in the living room. Nat turned to them and Steve quickly shook his head at her. She understood and promptly pulled out a nerf gun – from somewhere – and shot both Tony and Clint in quick succession. They were adequately distracted, and Steve and Bucky were able to slip past to Bucky’s room without being seen.

In Bucky’s room, Steve closed the door and sat them down on the bed. With one hand he held Bucky’s and the other, he rubbed his back in slow circles.

After a while, Bucky’s breathing evened out and he rested his head against Steve’s chest. They sat like that for a while, in relative peace and quiet – although they could hear some sounds of the nerf war outside the door. With his eyes closed, Bucky looked quite peaceful – like he did when he played piano. Steve wished that Bucky could always be like that – comfortable and at peace.

Some time later, Bucky sat up straight and took a deep, slow breath. He avoided Steve’s gaze.

“Are you…” Steve didn’t want to say ‘alright,’ because he clearly wasn’t alright. “doing better?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s voice was a little hoarse. He cleared his throat and glanced at Steve quickly. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Steve said.

Bucky stood up – a little shakily – and walked over to the sink. He splashed cold water on his face and leaned over the sink, staring at his reflection.

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” Steve said, feeling helpless.

Bucky’s eyes flickered to the side, where he could see Steve in the mirror. “No, it’s fine. I’m…” he hesitated. “I’m sorry you had to see me… like that.”

“What do you mean, Bucky?” Steve asked, standing up. “You’re still you. We’ve both got our baggage, but you’re still you.”

“But I’m not!” Bucky burst out, turning around, his eyes welling up. “I’m not Bucky who made mischief in Mrs. Monteiro’s class. I’m not Sergeant Barnes who fallowed you into battle. I’m all these fragments and bits and pieces glued back together after being torn apart. And some bits are in the wrong spot and I’m sure some bits are lost and I’m not fully me anymore, okay?” His voice broke on the last word and the pain – oh, the pain in his eyes and his voice and his words made Steve’s chest hurt.

“You’re not the sum of your parts,” he said, stepping forward and grabbing his hands. “Yeah, you’re not seventeen-year-old Bucky who stole the principal’s underwear from his house on a dare. You’re Bucky right here, right now, okay? And it’s this Bucky I care about. Cause I –”

“With me to the end of the line, I know,” Bucky said quietly.

“That’s not actually what I –” Steve stopped. “I don’t think that fully articulates –” He sighed.

Bucky let go of his hands and for a moment Steve had thought he had lost his chance again. But then Bucky took his face in his hands and kissed him. He kissed him with all the pain and history and closing that final bit of distance between them. And Steve kissed him like it was simultaneously their first kiss and their last; it was hopeful and desperate and messy and everything they needed it to be.

Everything was so muddled and hurried that he wasn’t quite sure who had started pulling off items of clothing first or who had pulled who into bed, but it didn’t matter. For the first time in a very long time, everything made sense and Steve was happy.

 Lying in bed, warm and safe and tangled up in sheets and limbs, Steve huffed out a small laugh and smiled at the ceiling.

“What?” Bucky asked, grinning at him as he rested on one elbow.

“I am terrible at reading signals, aren’t I?” Steve looked over at Bucky.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you are. Good god, Steve, I thought you’d never figure it out.”

Steve chuckled and moved in closer to Bucky, brushing his lips against his cheek.

“I was afraid I would have to get one of those skywriting planes,” Bucky said in mock concern. “Steve, I’m in love with you. Love, Bucky.” He gestured the path the words would make with his hand. “Although, knowing you, you’d probably think it was ambiguous.”

“I’m not that oblivious.”

“Then I would keep rose petals in my pockets at all times and scatter them wherever you went, you know, until you’d get the message,” Bucky continued. “Or, if I got truly desperate, I’d wait for you to get engaged to an arrogant douche and then crash the ceremony and make a heartfelt speech.”

“Alright,” Steve said, leaning in for a kiss.

Bucky pulled away for a moment to say, “Or perhaps a boombox outside your window?”

“Shut up,” Steve said, kissing him.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Bucky said with a smile, pulling him in closer.

[winryofresembool]

EdWin one-shot: A Food Fight (of sorts)

Summary: Ed and Winry are preparing to move in together a bit before their wedding, but of course things don’t go like planned. (could be canon ‘verse or whatever universe you want!)

A/N: my part of the fic-art trade with @mavistuffz! I was planning to finish this way earlier but sometimes life and writer’s block happens :/ Either way, I really hope you’ll enjoy this! It’s probably not quite what you had in mind, but hey, it’s EdWin, so that’s the main thing, right? :’) Let me know what you think!

Words: 2900+ (hey, at least it’s p long?)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: swearing and some sexual implications, I guess (nothing bad tho)

Ed and Winry had only one month left till their wedding, and that meant a lot needed to be done before the big day. The quests had been invited, dresses and suits bought, the venue and the theme colors chosen (to Ed’s surprise, Winry had even allowed a little bit of black in the decorations because it had been his wish), but that didn’t mean they were anywhere near done.

Perhaps one of the biggest tasks they needed to do before the wedding was moving into their own house. It had been decided they’d move to Rush Valley after returning their honeymoon, which meant their new home needed to be organized before the wedding. That only added pressure for the bride and groom who had been stressed even before the moving.

They had found a nice small place near Garfiel’s, something Winry was happy about despite her teacher’s playful accusations that one day she’d open her own automail shop and steal all his customers. While Winry was dreaming about opening her own shop at some point, she had a secret she had only told Ed so far, a secret that would affect her professional career quite a bit. That’s why she was perfectly happy to work with Garfiel until she was financially stable to start her own business. Ed would still continue doing his research, and he had also received an interesting offer from General Mustang. He had suggested Ed become an alchemy teacher in a nearby university that had been opened recently. The young man had been a bit reluctant, reminding Roy he couldn’t even perform alchemy anymore, but afterwards he had told Winry he might consider it. That way he could spread important information that could help them avoid the misuse of alchemy in the future.

The couple finished carrying the last pieces of furniture (Winry only carrying light clothes boxes because of her condition) and decided to take a breather before starting to organize the smaller objects into their shelves. They had decided to start with the kitchenware because they were planning to spend the night in their new home and cook something for their helpers, Al, Garfiel and Paninya.

“Whew, I thought we’d never get it finished,” Ed swept sweat from his forehead and took a couple of steps back to see the final results of his work.

“Can you believe it? Our first home together,” Winry marveled as she watched the view from the kitchen.

Ed walked right behind her and wrapped his arms around her belly. “Well, technically we have been living together for quite a while now…”

“You know what I mean,” Winry remarked. “This isn’t my granny’s place, this is yours, mine and the baby’s.”

When Winry said the last word, Ed’s hand automatically sought the still non-existent bump and rubbed it lightly through her shirt.

“Do you think she will be angry?” Ed asked worriedly.

“About the baby? She’ll probably say something like ‘you damn kids start way too early these days’ and then congratulate us. I’m pretty sure she and my grandfather weren’t married yet when they had my father…”

“The old hag is something else,” Ed snorted. “Remember what Dominic told us about her?”

“Hey, this is my granny we are talking about! Please have some respect, she let you live under her roof!” Winry reminded him and slapped his hands away from her belly.

“And while there, I also got her granddaughter pregnant,” Ed laughed and earned an elbow on his ribcage.

“Ouch!”

“Sometimes I don’t know what I see in you.” Winry shook her head and turned to stare at her fiancé judgingly.

“That’s too bad because I do recall you promising to give 85 per cent of your life to me.” Ed smirked at her smugly, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“I might still change my mind about that, Mr. Elric.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t, future Mrs. Elric.”

“Oh, about the name…” Winry seemed to taste the word with her tongue, “how would you feel if I changed my last name to Rockbell-Elric instead?”

“That sounds good to me.” Ed nodded. “I know you are proud to be a Rockbell.”

“I am. But I’m also glad you have your mother’s last name because Rockbell-Hohenheim would be a monster to say.”

“I won’t disagree with you on that. Anyway, should we start organizing the kitchen?” Ed asked. “The others might come any minute now…”

“Sure thing. I’ll carry the dry foods here, you can set them where they belong.”

The work progressed rather peacefully, until…

“What?” Winry yelled suddenly. “The chocolate doesn’t need to be in the ice box! Why would you put it in there anyway? I was planning to eat it soon because the Truth knows I’m in need of something with a lot of sugar and fat right now.”

“Oh, here we go with the cravings…” Ed mumbled under his breath, but unfortunately for him, Winry heard him.

“Excuse you, mister, I would like to see you carry a child for 9 months and see how much chocolate you want to eat!”

“Relax, Winry, I didn’t mean… I was just going to put it in there because it’s hot outside and you really don’t want it to melt, do you?”

“Fine, then… just don’t make that mistake again!”

“I won’t!” Ed promised quickly, knowing it was dangerous to fight with Winry right now.

The couple continued to fill the shelves and closets, but it wasn’t calm for long.

“Did you… did you buy blue cheese even though you know how much I hate it?” Ed nearly screamed when he opened the ice box again. “It’s even grosser than the milk it’s been made of! It has fucking mold on it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I try to remember that the next time we go do some grocery shopping. The same way you hopefully remember to not buy pickles! Even the smell of those things makes me throw up, Edward!”

“You never told me that!” he claimed. “Of course I wouldn’t have bought them if I had known!”

It was a half-truth; now that he thought of it, Winry might have mentioned something about pickles earlier, but he hadn’t remembered. If he had, there was no way he would have bought them.

“I most certainly did!” Winry argued. “Do you remember when I got sick the other day after seeing your sandwich? It was because it had pickles on it. And I remember clearly saying: ‘don’t ever eat those again near me’! You just never listen!”

“I do listen! It’s just, when you go ‘don’t do this, don’t do that’ all day, every day, some things are just easy to forget!”

“You know what, Edward? Fuck you. I really really don’t know why I’m gonna have a wedding with you in a month.” “Winry! I’m sor…”

Ed didn’t get to finish his apology before Winry marched out of the room, slamming the door angrily behind her.

“Oh, great,” Ed growled to himself. “I screwed it up again. Just when we were supposed to move in here too…”

Ed didn’t get to fume alone for a long while, because Al and Paninya chose that moment to return from their break.

“Why do you look so murderous? Not that you don’t always look a little bit scary, but isn’t this supposed to be a happy day?” Al asked, raising his eyebrow questioningly.

“If there was a moment when I wished I’d be able to hit myself, that would be now,” Ed stated, making the other two glance at each other with confusion.

“OK?” Al tried to get his brother to elaborate a bit.

“I got her mad again,” Ed said after a while. “And in the worst possible moment too. I know she’s been particularly sensitive lately, yet I couldn’t stop in time…”

“What do you mean when you say she’s been particularly sensitive lately? Is there any specific reason for that?” Paninya had become good at reading other people’s emotions and she could sense Ed was hiding something from her. He turned away from the other two, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

“I�� uh… you guys weren’t supposed to know yet… she wanted to tell you herself. Oh man, she’s really gonna kill me when she finds out…”

“Brother? Could you please talk like a normal human being? I don’t understand a word you said.”

“I shouldn’t tell you!” he tried one more time, even though he knew he had already lost this battle.

“Wait a second…” Paninya had a moment of realization. “You said she’s been sensitive lately… she’s been spending a lot of time in the toilet, and… you guys didn’t tell us what you are going to do with that spare room… She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

“I… Fine… Yes, she is.” Ed stuttered, seeing it was too late to deny it anymore.

“Way to go, guys!” Pan exclaimed and smacked Ed on his shoulder in a friendly manner. “Although, I admit I didn’t think you’d have it in you. Usually you blush when she’s simply in the same room with you. I gotta talk to her as soon as possible! But you, mister,” she pointed at Ed, “You need to talk to her first. I remember hearing something about a stupid argument earlier, and I won’t let you get away with it that easily. Go make it right. That’s what she’d tell me if I was in your situation.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ed sighed. “Why does it have to be so damn hard, though? Hey, Al?” Al hadn’t gotten a chance to say anything yet, he was just standing there, looking dumbfounded.

“You’re having… a baby? I’m… gonna become an uncle?”

“Yes,” Ed said carefully, scared of an explosion even though he should have known Al would never react like that.

“That’s… that’s so amazing, brother! I’m so happy for you!” the younger brother suddenly exclaimed and rushed to hug Ed.

“Take it easy, Al,” he tried to calm him down, although he was secretly very happy and relieved about his reaction. “I can’t breathe!”

When Al finally let go of him, he got an idea.

“Hey, before I go to talk to her… There’s something we could do.”

Ed dragged Al to a grocery store, and when they got to one of Ed’s favorite sections, he asked:

“Which flavor do you think she’d like? Nuts? Salt? Berries? Just regular?”

“Shouldn’t you be the one to know that?” Al asked back. “You’re the one who’s gonna get married to her.”

“Shut up, Al. Oh, look! There are even skeleton shaped ones! These are so cool!”

“Edward,” Al said with a warning tone, “remember that you are buying them for her, not for you. She would not like that.”

“Fine. What would you suggest then?”

“I say you should try to make them special. Something she can’t buy from this store. Hey,” he pointed at one shelf, “there are molds there! Look at this, don’t you think she’d like this?”

  After buying the products for preparing the special gift, Ed and Al told Paninya to go and distract Winry while they’d be working in the kitchen. She was still sulking upstairs, and the boys didn’t want her to come down before they were finished with their work. Paninya agreed after hearing the brothers’ plan and climbed the stairs to the bedroom, stopping to knock the door.

“Who is it? Ed, if it’s you, I swear to Truth I’m in no mood to…”

“No, it’s me, Pan.” The dark-haired young woman said calmly.

“I guess come in then,” Winry replied. Paninya wondered if she had heard a bit of disappointment in her voice.

“I heard what happened,” she said. “You know, I don’t usually defend your idiot of a boyfriend, but he really is sorry.”

“If you came here to talk for him…”

“No, I came here because you’re my friend and of course I’m worried about you.”

“OK.” Winry calmed down and sat down on the bed, folding her arms on her lap.

“Uh, please don’t get mad,” Pan said after trying to decide how to tell her the news, “but… he accidentally revealed your secret. Or rather, I guessed it when he said some weird things.”

“Oh great. That idiot. I really didn’t want you to find out that way,” Winry sighed, understanding Paninya must have talked about her pregnancy. “I was supposed to tell you soon…”

“It doesn’t matter, Winry! I’m happy for you, I really am! It’s just, you guys seem to get into a fight over smallest things, and what if… what if it gets out of control and one of you says something you can’t fix?”

“Trust me, that thought has crossed my mind a few times. But don’t worry, at the end of the day, we still love each other. He may be an idiot, but… he’s still my idiot. And besides,” Winry blushed fiercely, “afterwards, making up is always fun.”

“That’s too much information, Win!”

“OK, OK, sorry. But it’s not just the sex, he’s always super sweet and thoughtful after a fight. Sometimes he cooks something good, and once he even let me use his favorite leather jacket… You know how he loves that thing.”

“Wow. Sounds like you have him totally wrapped around your finger.”

“Even though I hate to admit it at the moment, he does that same to me,” Winry’s face got even redder. “There’s a reason why I’m marrying him, after all. But what is taking him this long?” She suddenly got worried. “Usually he comes to find me a lot faster…”

“He’s… busy doing something.” Paninya said carefully, not wanting to reveal the secret Ed was preparing.

“OK. He’d better do it fast, though,” Winry complained. “I’m getting really hungry here.”

“You have already forgiven him, though, haven’t you?”

“When you are fighting with him as much as I am, you kinda have to learn to do it fast.” Winry smiled.

“You seem to enjoy the fighting, am I right?”

“I guess you are. I wouldn’t be able to be with someone who never challenges me.”

“Aww. Then you are definitely marrying the right person.”

“Hey! Only I have the right to insult him!” Winry exclaimed, pretending to be angry, but soon burst into laughter.

The girls changed the subject and started talking about baby related things, like the baby’s sex and name suggestions. At some point Al peeked into the bedroom and told Paninya Ed and he were ready.

“Where are you taking me?” Winry tried to pry when Al came in and tied a scarf around her head, so she couldn’t see what was happening around her.

“It’s a surprise. That’s why there’s a blindfold,” Al said and spun Winry around a couple of times so she wouldn’t be able to figure out their direction too easily.

“I don’t like surprises,” Winry tried to protest but followed Al when he dragged her forward.

“Are we there yet?” she asked impatiently when her future brother-in-law seemed to take her in and out of a lot of rooms.

“Soon, Winry, soon.”

They stepped into a room that had been empty before the fight because the couple had agreed that they still had plenty of time to organize it. When Al took the scarf off from Winry’s face, she didn’t recognize the space at first. There was a chest of drawers for the baby’s clothes Pinako had given for the couple (not knowing they’d be using it for this purpose, however), a shelf for toys and other things (a surprisingly cute dragon plush already sitting there), a table for changing the diapers, and…

“A crib?” Winry asked aloud when she saw the object she didn’t remember seeing earlier. “When did you have time to get this?”

“Just a little while ago… You know, Al helped a bit…” Ed said, referring to his alchemy. “But I added some things of my own in there. And I would have added more but Al didn’t let me.” Al rolled his eyes at his brother, knowing he had wanted to make the crib black and add some spikes and gargoyles here and there. He’d have to hide Ed’s drawing from Winry…

Winry pulled the blanket on the crib away and saw a huge bowl in there. And the bowl was full of…

“Chocolate wrenches!”

“If you want to throw me with them… go ahead.”

“No way!” Winry said and took one chocolate wrench into her hand excitedly. “I’m going to eat this right away!”

As she munched happily, Ed said: “I’m sorry about earlier. I know this moving in and the wedding and now the baby too have been stressing you… I shouldn’t be the one to add you even more stress. And I promise to listen to you more often now. By the way, I threw all the pickles away too.”

“That’s good. I shouldn’t have nagged you about the chocolate either. And you don’t have to eat the blue cheese if you don’t want to.”

“You know I don’t,” Ed snorted and went to hug his soon-to-be-wife.

“We’re a pair of idiots, aren’t we?” Winry murmured when she snuggled her head against his shoulder.

“I guess we are. Hey, we’re not skipping our favorite part of making up, though?” he whispered, trying to make sure Al and Paninya weren’t hearing.

“You give me some real food first, and we’ll see what happens after that,” Winry said with amusement, intertwining their fingers.

“It’s a deal.”

A/N: In case you missed it, I drew a picture of Ed’s version of the crib. Check it out!

[yeolsmuffin]

Always Afterall - Chanyeol

“At the end of the day, you’ve always got me.”

Genre: Angst, Fluff || two-shot

Pairing: chanyeolXreader

Word Count: 11.7k

The followup and resolution to Always.

| Part 1 - Part 2 |

Love was a messy subject.

It was even messier when a love after years came to an end.

But sometimes, there is one person who wants to help you clean up.

One of best ways to get over a break up was to eliminate all reminders of that person from your life.  

For you, that was an issue for two reasons.  

One, your whole apartment was filled with furniture that you had bought with your ex. Every detail of the apartment had been carefully thought out together.  

Two, you didn’t know if you were ready to be over it. The problem with that reason was it had been four years since he broke your heart. Four years since your seven-year-long relationship came to an end. Four years and you still couldn’t pick it up.  

Although, now more than ever it was crucial for you to get over it and that was because said ex-boyfriend was now a married man.

He had married while you were still reeling. He had married and found happiness while you were trapped in darkness.  

You had gone to the wedding because he invited you. Not only had your ex been the love of your life, but before that, he was your best friend for four years. The two of you had a history together so you guessed he would have felt weird if he didn’t invite you.  

During the wedding, the two of you met eyes and the happiness was so evident on his face that it made you break down. You cried in the back of the church as two of your best friends clutched tightly onto you.  

To you, as someone who still loved Kyungsoo, you wanted his happiness more than anything but even so, it hurt that his happiness no longer was because of you especially since it had been for so many years - or so you thought.

After the wedding, you were a wreck. It felt like you had to grieve all over again.  

This time unlike before, Chanyeol didn’t let you.

Before, he gave you your space because you forced him out of your life. You forced out anyone who tried to get too close and anyone who looked at you with pity in their eyes. Chanyeol wasn’t only your friend, but Kyungsoo’s so it was hard for you to hold onto him when all he did was remind you of Kyungsoo.

Now, Chanyeol wasn’t going to let you push him out. He was persistent. More so than any of your other friends as when you lost Kyungsoo, you pretty much lost everyone else.

Every day when you got off from work after the wedding, Chanyeol was waiting in the living room of your apartment. You threw a huge fit about it but of course, you were the one who initially had given the keys to your place to both him and Baekhyun.  

You nearly screamed out of fear when you saw Chanyeol's large figure sitting on your couch when you came home from work. For so long you had grown used to coming home to an empty apartment and it was a shock to have someone waiting for you when you got home. You had to admit that it did feel kind of nice to not be alone even if you were mad that he didn't warn you.

His eyes watched you as you advanced on him. "God Chanyeol, you could have given me a heart attack. What are you doing here?"

Completely ignoring your question, Chanyeol stood up and put his hands on your shoulders. "You're going to stop loving Kyungsoo and start loving yourself."

The moment he said his name, you shook him off and pushed him away. "Just go Chanyeol. You think you’re going to help but nothing will help me," you spat. Chanyeol’s request may have seemed out of nowhere but you knew he was just tired of you torturing yourself.  

But he wasn't going down without a fight. "I should have done this a long time ago. I shouldn't have let you suffer for so long without doing something but I guess I never realized how bad you were off until the wedding. I mean I knew you weren't over it but I never realized how in love with him you still were."

It was true. You were still madly in love with the man who had hurt you. You weren't even close to over it and you often dreamt that he would come home, take off his shoes and pull you into his arms the way he always did. You dreamt that he would bring you home a new book once a week and read it with you the way he had so many years ago. There were so many parts and pieces of Kyungsoo you missed; there were parts that wouldn’t leave your heart no matter how much they hurt you.  

He was your past and that wasn't something your body was willing to accept. Your body still craved his touch and you swore that you were made to fit perfectly in his arms even though he thought different. Whoever he married he believed to be his person, his other piece who fit in his life better than you. What made it worse was that he had settled down with her after less than four years together whereas he had been with you six years and never purposed. You felt less than her and that was enough to make you spiral.  

"Chanyeol, you need to go," you cried out as you pushed past him and went towards your bedroom.

He followed after you, "I'm not leaving you. Not like this. It's been four years, Y/N."

"I know," you screamed. "I know it's been four years. Do you think that makes it any easier to deal with?" You cried. "Do you think that makes me love him any less? You don't understand Chanyeol, you'll never understand. He was the only one I will ever love. I can't just get over it." Feeling defeated, you collapsed to the ground in front of your bedroom door and cried into your hands. "It hurts, Chanyeol. It hurts so bad."

He let out a sigh and came down to the ground with you. "I know it hurts. But it won't stop hurting until you are ready for it to stop."

As you sobbed, you pulled you into him. "Don't you think I would if I could?"

"You haven't tried."

But Chanyeol was right. You hadn't even tried getting over Kyungsoo. Instead, you mourned over the loss of him and told yourself you would never get over it. You cried and played victim for so long that you hadn’t even realized it.

Chanyeol didn't push the subject further and helped you get off the floor and move to your bedroom where he stayed with you until the tears finally stopped.  

For a week Chanyeol let you cry. He continued to come to your house every night and sit with you as you mourned but when seven days had passed, he was done letting you grieve.

"Rise in shine," Chanyeol sang as he pulled back your blinds on an early Sunday morning.  

"Chanyeol, let me sleep," you grumbled as you put a pillow over your face. "It's my only day off."

Using his strength to his advantage, he yanked the pillow from your tight grasp and gave you a smile. "What a perfect day to clean up your life," he exclaimed as he grabbed your arm and pulled you from your place in your bed. "Now go shower and put on something other than sweatpants."

Even though you rolled your eyes, you did as Chanyeol said. After loving someone and crying over them for so long, you thought that there must be a point that you got tired of hurting and Chanyeol made you realize that you were at that point. So you dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Hell, you even made an effort to fix your hair.

Chanyeol gave you another bright and goofy smile when he saw you exit from the bathroom. "What in this apartment reminds you of him?" He asked as he dragged you along with him through the hallway.

You snorted. "What doesn't is a better question."

"Okay, humor me. What doesn’t remind you of him?"

Narrowing your eyes, you looked around the apartment and tried to think. Every time you walked towards something and touched it, memories of Kyungsoo would flood your vision and it would make you teary-eyed. Chaneyol put a hand on your shoulder when you had picked up a vase next to your TV and a tear had fallen.  

"You should get rid of that," Chanyeol said simply as he tightened his grip on your shoulder.

You gave him a look of disbelief. "Chanyeol. Kyungsoo gave this to me for our third anniversary. This vase was once filled with a dozen red roses that Kyungsoo had picked himself from his grandmother's garden," but once you finished speaking, your mouth formed an 'o' and you stared at the vase. Just because it had special meaning with Kyungsoo didn't mean you had to hold onto it. Kyungsoo had left you. He had chosen a different life.  

A life without you.  

It was time to let go. Just as Chanyeol said.  

But why did it feel like you would burst at the seams if you got rid of it? Why did it feel like you couldn’t let go even if he loved someone else?

"You're holding on to it because there is a part of you that hopes he'll come back. You feel like if you don't keep these things that you'll lose your chance to be with Kyungsoo when he comes back. But, Y/N, he isn't coming back." You looked at Chanyeol with teary eyes and clutched the vase tightly between your fingers. "You have to let it go. Maybe not today but someday." Gently, he pulled your fingers from the vase and sat it back down. "Let's start smaller. Something that wasn't a gift. Do you have something not crucial that you bought with him?"

Nodding slowly, you gave the vase one last gaze before walking into the kitchen. You felt numb as the stark realization of Chanyeol’s words hit you. Kyungsoo wasn’t coming back and maybe part of you had been grasping to the idea of that. You pulled yourself to reality and thought about what would be the easiest to get rid of. Something you didn’t have the best memory associated with and then your eyes fell on one of your cabinets. "The pots and pans. Kyungsoo and I bought them together when we were shopping for things for the apartment before we moved in. We argued over whether to get the white or black set for thirty minutes before settling on the blue set."

Without hesitating, Chanyeol started gathering the pots and pans from their place tucked inside the cabinet on the left side which is exactly where Kyungsoo always nagged you for putting them. He sat them on the counter and looked at you. "Is this it?" He asked as his eyes examined the blue glazed pots and pans.

Shaking your head, you reached for the utensils that were in stainless steel holder and handed them to Chanyeol. "These came with the set."

He nodded and pulled out his phone, typing a few things and causing you to look at him in confusion. "I'm making a list of new things you'll need when we're done."

After searching your apartment for several minutes, you and Chanyeol found a cardboard box and filled it with the pots and pans. You walked with him out of your apartment and to the parking lot so you could watch him throw away the first piece of Kyungsoo but instead of throwing them away, Chanyeol dumped them out onto the pavement behind his car and after slipping your hands into gloves, he retrieved a steel baseball bat from his car. Handing it to you, he gave you a grin.

"Go on, take your anger out," he whispered as he moved away and left you to stand awkwardly in front of pots and pans.

"You want me to hit them?" You asked as you stared at the blue pots and you remembered the way Kyungsoo had laughed once you guys were finally able to agree on that set. He had kissed your forehead gently before tucking you into his arms and pushing the shopping cart towards the bath towels. The memories made you want to run straight back to your apartment but Chanyeol's gaze kept you still. The warmth of his eyes settled you in a way you hadn’t been in a while. 

He nodded. "You have distinct memories of buying those pots and pans. Kyungsoo loved you but he crushed your heart. Crush the pots and pans the way he crushed you."

It didn't take much more coaxing than that for you to raise the bat and bring them down over the pots and pans. You didn't have enough upper body strength to completely smash and ruin them but enough to make them unusable and once you had ended up in a crying fit of rage and continued to hit the same pot for ten minutes, Chanyeol pulled the bat from your hands and let it hit the ground.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and let you sob all the anger and sadness out that you could.

That same day, you had gathered a box of most of your kitchenwares apart from the mugs Kyungsoo bought you every year for Christmas and your birthday. In the parking lot with the same bat – and protective glasses thanks to Chanyeol – you smashed the glasses with the silver flecks in the bottom, the flatware set that had stupid handles, the glass Tupperware Kyungsoo's mother got you, and more miscellaneous pieces of kitchenware until you barely had anything left in the kitchen to cook with.  

"I am so proud of you," Chanyeol said once you had finished and the two of you picked up the parking lot of kitchen tool debris. "Now let's go buy you new kitchenware," he said with a laugh.

Chanyeol went with you to a completely different store than you had gone to with Kyungsoo – you assumed because the store you had always gone to before, was Kyungsoo’s favorite.  

Walking into a store specifically to buy things for your apartment felt weird since the last time you had done it, you had Kyungsoo with you. It was uncomfortable and you couldn't help but feel a little empty inside. But there was Chanyeol, who was next to you with a bright smile and bright eyes.  

"What pots and pans set do you want?” He asked when the two of you turned down the aisle. Chanyeol has his body leaning on the cart as he stared at you.

You shrugged. “Just something practical I guess. Something just for one person.”

He gave you a look. “Come on. That’s boring. What is something wild and crazy that you always wanted?”

“It’s a pots and pans set, Chanyeol. How wild can it get?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’ve known you almost as long as he. Sure maybe not as intimate,” you felt your cheeks flush, “but I do know that you want more than just a boring pots and pans set. What’s the one you truly wanted?”

Chanyeol was right. There was always something silly you wanted but those were things Kyungsoo never let you decorate with because they weren’t practical and they were slightly childish. When you walked towards the pumpkin themed pots and pans, Chanyeol lit up. “Kyungsoo said that themed household items were gimmicks to make you buy several of the things you already owned. That they made holiday-themed things cuter and cuter just so you’d be conned into buying them. Little does he realize that maybe I wanted to have pumpkin themed pots all year because I like pumpkins.”

Chanyeol nodded eagerly as you struggled to lift the box of heavy stainless steel and Chanyeol ran over to your aid, giving you a goofy smile as he gently sat the box in the cart. “Good choice. I knew someone as interesting as you wouldn’t have settled for blue pots and pans.”

By the end of the shopping trip, your cart was filled with mismatch kitchen supplies. From mixing bowls with cats on them to the polka dot measuring cups, you had everything you ever wanted that would have made Kyungsoo cringe in the past.

Before you could check out, you had your eyes set out on a display of white bath towels. Chanyeol followed your gaze and smiled as your eyes lit up. “He never let me have white bath towels because he said they would just stain. I’ve always wanted white bath towels.”

Chanyeol pushed the cart in the direction and put a few in that cart. “Good, let’s get all white then. Who cares if they stain? They’re towels.”

You nodded fiercely as you smiled at your new towels. “I’m going to get stains on every one of them.”

Chanyeol laughed and gave you a gaze filled with warmth.

And it was like that that Chanyeol helped you slowly push Kyungsoo out.  

The kitchen, bathroom, and living area were mostly easy. Over the span of two months, you had mostly new furniture and decorations but there were still small pieces you couldn’t touch.

Like your sheets.

Maybe to some people, it was gross to not change out your sheets for four years but for you, it was something you didn’t even think of. These were sheets Kyunsgoo loved and comforted you on. Sheets he made love to you on. Sheets that still faintly smelled like him if you thought hard enough. Maybe that was why Chanyeol was pushing you so hard to get rid of them.  

It wasn’t that easy though. Getting rid of sheets would be losing another part of Kyungsoo – a part Chanyeol nicely reminded you that you no longer had.  

“It’s easy to get rid of things like bowls and shower curtains but our sheets? That’s tough.”

Chanyeol looked at you with sympathy as the two of you stared at your bed stripped of all covers but the bed sheets. “But you feel better having new things without his memory. You’ve been doing so well. You seem happier. This is still holding you back though. Besides, they aren’t ‘our’ sheets anymore. They’re yours and they’re a burden,” he pointed to the grey sheets.  

Shrugging, you stared at the sheets. You could practically envision the way Kyungsoo used to cuddle you under his chin in a protective hold. You could hear the sweet words he would whisper in your ear as he nodded off to sleep. You could feel the soft beat of his heart thumping against your ear as you nuzzled into the warm sweaters he often wore to bed. The two of you wrapped in those sheets were some of the best memories you had but yet at the same time, they were some of the toughest memories. Every time you remembered these memories you found your brain screaming at you asking you what you had done to make him stop loving you.  

That was the issue.  

Why were you so obsessed with thinking it was your fault? Why did it have to be your fault? It could have been because you were the one left in love. Kyungsoo never made you stop loving him so it had to be something you did, you thought. In reality though, why blame yourself for someone falling out of love with you? Maybe it was he who never loved you enough.  

It was the truth even though it made you get an uncomfortable twist in your stomach. He didn’t marry you nor did he propose to so maybe he never felt that way. Could you really think that it was your fault for someone else’s emotions?

No. You shouldn’t think that.  

It was time that you stopped living a life where you blamed yourself for something that you had no control over.  

Chanyeol watched you as you stayed deep in thought. He didn’t push you to speak and just let you go through the motions as his warm eyes stayed on you.  

“I can remember the way he used to hold me. The way he used to smell. The sound of his voice as he said he loved me. As I remember it, I just don’t understand why. I really loved him so what went wrong? What’s it like to you?” You always wondered what an outsiders take on the whole situation was but you had been too scared to hear the answer before. Now, you assumed you could handle it.  

“It’s like watching two people I always imagined being together being pulled apart by something deeper than fate. I never imagined he would leave you so I was as shocked as you. While I can’t say I’m happy you are hurt, I’m happy he left,” Chanyeol admitted

Taken aback, you looked at him oddly. “Why?”

Putting an arm around your shoulders, Chanyeol let out a breath. “He left because he didn’t love you enough. He left because he didn’t see the two of you together any more and that was him making the best decision for you. It hurts you and I think he was stupid for not loving you enough because shit, you’re one of the best people I know but he did what he should. If he stayed with you and he didn’t love you, it would have hurt more than just him. He just left before it could hurt you that way.”

You thought about his words for a few moments and then nodded. “You’re right but that doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”  

“Of course not. I just wish it didn’t go on so long. I wish maybe he would have seen it sooner.”

“Me too,” you said as you looked at your sheets.  

“At the end of the day, you’ve always got me,” Chanyeol picked something up and handed it to you. Looking down, you realized it was a new sheet set. This one was covered in polar bears with sweaters on. Something sweet and so like Chanyeol’s taste… but also so like yours. In no way was it bland like the gray plain sheets Kyungsoo had insisted on and that made you love them more. Chanyeol knew just what you liked and instead of a painful reminder attached to these new sheets, you had a good one. Your cheeks flushed as you sat the sheet set down and began to undress your mattress.  

Chanyeol smiled at you before coming over to help you. “How do you feel about burning these?”

You paused for a moment and then nodded as you tore the sheets the rest of the way off. “Let’s do it.”

It started with the sheets but eventually, alongside the sheets, you ended up with a box compiled of pictures and some of Kyungsoo’s notes he had left for you around the house when you were in the prime of your relationship.

This time, you burned them in Chanyeol’s fire pit as the two of you sat together on a wooden bench in his backyard. Baekhyun would have come but like many people your age, he had a family now. A wife, newborn baby, and love. Maybe it was just you and Chanyeol but even so, it didn’t feel lonely.  

It was a chilly night and you stared at the crackling fire as Chanyeol made you a s’more.  

“What about you?” You asked as Chanyeol handed you the graham cracker filled snack.  

He paused. “What about me?”

“You know. Love. Don’t you have anyone occupying your mind?”

Not meeting your eyes, Chanyeol stuck another marshmallow on his skewer. “I’m content with how things are now. These past few months I’ve found comfort in having a friend by my side,” he said smiling at you. “That’s all I could ask for.”

“But don’t you want more?” You pressed. “Something deeper?  Like me and Soo…” you trailed off and stared into the woods that was lining the back of Chanyeol’s house.  

He shook his head. “No, Y/N. What you had with Soo was great when it was but when I commit, I don’t plan on giving up when things get rough.” By the look in his eyes, you could tell that there was something Chanyeol didn’t want to talk about so even though you were worried, you didn’t push him.

One Sunday when you were cleaning your apartment with Chanyeol, you pulled out the mugs Kyungsoo had gotten you. It wasn’t something you did consciously so when you had realized what you had done, you stared at the mugs in shock.

The mugs were special and just looking at them hurt.  

Chanyeol had been vacuuming the living room for you and when he came to dump the vacuum out, he found you staring at them. “What is it?” His warm voice called out.  

You turned towards him, feeling your cheeks heat up at the way his eyes danced around your form. “The mugs he got me. I took them out of the cabinet without even realizing I did. I think I’m ready to get rid of them,” you said subconsciously. 

He did a little dance and his face lit up, “I’ll get the bat.”  

But you had another idea.  

Laughing, you held a hand out to him. “There is plenty of other stuff to break, Yeol. I was actually thinking of sending him a few of them.”

“Why?” he said, perplexed.

You shrugged. “When he left, he didn’t take anything I had given him. I think it’s not fair that I have to deal with getting rid of our couple stuff alone so I thought I would send him these and give my final goodbyes.”

Slowly as if you were an injured and scared animal, Chanyeol approached you. “Goodbye? But we still have so much to get rid off that you won’t let go of.”

“I think I’m ready to start trying. Starting with these mugs. I’ll send them to him and let him get rid of them in his own way. Maybe give him closure too.”

Chanyeol pulled you into a hug. His warmth surrounded you and made your cheeks flush. Chanyeol had a special scent that filled your senses in a way you couldn’t explain. You could have stayed wrapped in a hug from him all day. “I’m really proud of you.”

The two of you met eyes as you looked up at him and it sent shivers down your spine. His gaze was intoxicating and it had you feeling funny inside. It wasn’t a feeling you could place a finger on but nonetheless, it was a good feeling. He flushed and then looked away while all you could do was smile.  

He pulled away and cleared his throat. “I’m going to the post office to get that box for you.”

You nodded slowly as you watched him leave.

Once Chanyeol was out the door you felt like you could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Somehow when he was around, you felt like you couldn’t breathe but it wasn’t suffocating. It wasn’t as if it was a toxic loss of air but yet one that made your heart palpitate and your lips unable to form coherent words.  

As your head swirled with thoughts of the warmth Chanyeol brought you, you searched for a pen and paper.  

As if it was fate, you found a notepad that Kyungsoo special ordered you for your birthday with cheesy small pictures of the two of you as the border. Sighing to yourself, you sat down and folded the pictures back so that all that could be seen were the lines.  

Kyungsoo,

It was you who once told me that love never fades.  

You either always love someone or you never did.  

Sometimes fate has an odd way of working.

I hope you are finally happy.

Always,

Y/N

Tears were in your eyes as you signed the letter and Chanyeol was back before you knew it. He spotted your tear stained cheeks and he swept you into a warm embrace before you could even speak.  

“Maybe you can finally start to be happy,” he whispered in your ear.  

Wrapping your arms more tightly around him, you smiled through the tears. “I am happy.”

“I was thinking,” you said to Chanyeol one Friday night when the two of you were watching a movie on your new couch.  

Chanyeol hummed as he nuzzled into the blanket he had wrapped around him. “What’s that?”

“My lease is up in a month. I think I should move out.”

He stared at you in surprise. “Really?”

“That’s the final step, right? I got this apartment with him.”

He nodded but continued to look at you with wide eyes until he trailed his gaze over to the vase that was next to the TV. The vase that was now stuffed with the only remains of your and Kyungsoo’s relationship. Love letters, pictures, and just random memorabilia.  

You stared at the vase with a sigh. So maybe moving wasn’t the last step. Before you could realize what you were doing, you stood up and felt overwhelmed with anger. Your vision blurred as you grabbed the vase so tight, your knuckles nearly went white. Chanyeol was calling your name as you went into the kitchen and spilled all the contents onto the counter.  

Chanyeol called out to you as he followed you into the kitchen.

The vase in your hands made you shake. This was the last bit of Kyungsoo you had left but in reality, it wasn't even a piece of him anymore. Kyungsoo had left you, fell in love with someone else, and built a life without you.

You wasted four years of your life pining for someone who never loved you enough.

It took you so long to see that you were living in the shadow of a love that was never truly enough – a love that wasn't even real.

The memories of Kyungsoo holding you and caressing you were no longer haunting you because your new memories took priority. Your memories with Chanyeol as he helped bring you back to sanity. You found that you no longer wanted any more memories of Kyungsoo but instead memories with Chanyeol.

How he held you and reassured you that everything would be okay when you were sure it wouldn't. The way he knew the perfect tone to talk to you in when you were on the verge of tears. Chanyeol himself was what you wanted to be reminded of and as you thought of that, you found yourself placing the vase in the sink and bringing the handle end of one of your knives down onto it. The glass let out a loud shatter as the back of the knife met it and Chanyeol was instantly behind you and pulling you away from the sink.

Chanyeol grabbed the knife from you and dropped it into the sink. "You cut yourself, Y/N," he said in a worried tone as he pulled you back towards the sink and turned the faucet on. "What were you thinking?"

You stared up at Chanyeol, watching as his brown eyes narrowed and his thick brows furrowed. He cleaned your wound on your hand with cold water before stopping the faucet and reaching under the sink for the first aid kit – that he insisted you own after you had kept hurting yourself as you bought and moved around your furniture and decorations. He started to clean the wound as you kept your eyes on his face. Was he always this handsome, or had you never noticed? Did his lips always look so perfect when he pouted? Did Chanyeol always look so kissable?

When his gaze met yours for a moment, you were pulled from your thoughts. You blushed immediately and looked down. What just happened? Why were you thinking like that? You shook your head a few times to try to clear it but all you could see was an imagine of you kissing Chanyeol.

Chanyeol raised a brow. "What?" He asked as he wrapped one of your fingers in a band-aid.

"Nothing," you laughed nervously.

He scoffed, "Don't lie," he said as his face moved closer to yours, "I know when you're lying."

He dropped your hand slowly, the warmth of his fingers leaving you grasping on the inside for his warmth.Your body practically screamed as you stepped slightly away from him and you moved your hands back to the memories the vase once held that you had poured out on the counter. "Just ready to get rid of these, that's all."

While you shuffled the papers nervously between your hands, Chanyeol came up behind you. Just smelling his cologne tonight was making you dizzy. Suddenly his every touch and movement was driving you wild and this was proven as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

You nodded, too afraid to meet his gaze that was so close to your face. "I'm ready," you whispered as you reached for a lighter and slowly you ignited every piece of paper and memory over the sink where the broken glass and drips of blood laid.

With the mugs shipped off to Kyungsoo and only a few stray belongings of his, you started to pack up your apartment.  

Before, moving would have been too painful. Everything you had owned before had the Kyungsoo stamp on it but now, all of that was gone. The few items you had left were tucked into a small bag that was at Chanyeol's house so you could burn them – which was the final step in putting Kyungsoo behind you.

You hadn’t had a full plan of where you were moving to but you knew you could always stay with your parents while looking for a place. Although, that was the last resort option because your parents had this way of looking at you that made you shiver under their gaze. They looked at their daughter as if she had been built up only to be torn down and it seemed like a slight disappointment. You couldn’t blame them much. Just like everyone around you, they loved Kyungsoo. They saw how smart, careful, and calculated he was. And then there was you, emotional, clumsy, and unsure. Looking back, it made sense why the two of you didn’t always fit together like the puzzle pieces you swore you were. Instead, you were jamming two pieces together that barely fit, even though they didn’t match.  

Did the realization mean you loved Kyungsoo from those times less? No. You still remembered how feverish and passionate the love was. You remember how every touch of his sent your heart into overdrive. But you no longer lived in that time and you were finally getting accustomed to it.  

It only took four an a half years.

This time, having a friend was crucial.  

You pushed everyone away after Kyungsoo left you. You lost Bo and some other semi-close girlfriends. You pushed Jongin, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol away but even so, Baekhyun and Chanyeol seemed determined to not stay away. They always listened to your wishes but that didn’t stop them from texting or calling to check on you a couple times a week, even when you wouldn’t answer.  

Now Chanyeol was proactive. He wasn’t standing by and letting you mope. He told you that you had to get over Kyungsoo and you knew that was what had helped you get over him. You needed a push and Chanyeol pushed you in the best ways possible.  

He was like an angel to you but an angel that you were slowly realizing, you felt too many weird things for.  

His touch would linger well after his hand was gone, his eyes drew you in like magnets, his voice calmed every anxious bone in your body, and his scent smelled exactly what you imagine comfort smelled like.  

Were you falling for him just because he was the only one to show you affection after Kyungsoo? No, no. You couldn’t be falling for him. You didn’t fall for your guy friends. Not Baekhyun, not Jongin, and definitely not Chanyeol. You never felt for them before so what changed?

It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to Chanyeol’s touches. He was always one of the most cuddly and touchy out of the group. Something which once drove Kyungsoo crazy and now it was driving you crazy.

So what was going on?

Why were you starting to stare at Chanyeol’s lips and dream of what they felt like?

What was making you blush every time he took boxes out of your hand to carry them himself while you packed up your apartment?

What was making you tremble under his very gaze?

“So…” Chanyeol trailed off as the two of you sat on the ground of your box filled apartment. You snapped your attention to him and your hands immediately fell into your lap, twisting and trembling together as you watched his deep eyes prodding yours. “You haven’t found a place yet,” he said as more of a statement than a question. He waited for you to respond.

You nodded slowly. “No, there are only a few days left before I need to be out of here. I just don’t have time to find another place so I’m going to stay with my parents.” You were shaking under his intense gaze and you were begging for him to stop looking at you so you could breathe.  

He put a hand in the air, moving it as he spoke, “But, they are an hour away. Your commute will be horrendous.”

“I was thinking of looking for a new job or transferring,” you said with a sigh. Even if you’re co-workers looked at you pathetically sometimes, you had been at your job since college and you weren’t ready to relocate. It was your home.  

“Hear me out,” he said enunciating each word. “I own a home. A big home. Four bedrooms for one person. It’s too much. I don’t have time to look after the house by myself and since Jongin moved out a couple years ago, it’s been lonely.”

You froze. Was he asking what you thought he was?

“Come stay with me. As long as you need, no strings attached. I have plenty of space and it would be really nice to be able to see you more often. That way I know you aren’t moping around all day.”

“Chanyeol,” you started not sure where you were going with your words. “At our age, living together doesn’t work. What if you want to bring a girl home and even if you tell me ahead of time and I stay out of the house, what if she sees me and it ruins it everything?”

He stared at you a moment before letting out a laugh. “Is that what you’re worried about? Is that the only thing?” No, also because you were afraid to be that close to him all the time and you were afraid if he dated that you might be jealous. You groaned to yourself, you weren’t even safe in your own mind. “I won’t be being girls home,” you sighed. Of course not. He could go to their house. You dropped your gaze but Chanyeol shufflers towards you and touched your shoulder. “I have no interest in anyone like that right now. I am too focused on other things to even think about bringing a girl home. Why is that your concern? Are you wanting to bring men home?”

Chanyeol was leaning into you so close and you could feel the warmth that radiated from him. You wanted to climb into his arms. “N-no.”

“If you do, it’s okay,” he said while pinning you with an intense gaze.  

“I don’t want to, I’m not interested in bringing someone home,” you said but your voice was clearly detached and you sounded a bit like a robot.  

He smiled at you, a smile that could kill. “So you'll move in with me then? Please, I promise I won’t bother you and this way you don’t have to get another lease.”

And even if your stomach said it was a bad idea and your heart was screaming that I was a great idea, you agreed and when Chanyeol pulled you into a hug, you nearly lost all will to breathe.

How would you handle him as a roommate?

You weren’t handling being his roommate very well at all. You finally remembered what having a crush was like after several years. The last crush you had was Kyungsoo and never in your life had you imagined having another. You thought you would die loving Kyungsoo but that wasn’t it at all. You would have been killed from loving Kyungsoo and now that you no longer yearned for his every touch, you could live.  

You could live a full and happy life as long as you kept pushing forward.  

Even if some nights you still dreamed of Kyungsoo’s touch, you knew you could go on.  

But now, your dreams were filled with Chanyeol and it was borderline unhealthy. You knew it was only a matter of time before you would have to leave him and forget the chance your heart wanted you to take. You couldn’t love again. You couldn’t like again. You couldn’t try again.  

Although it seemed your heart was already trying.

Chanyeol was becoming your oxygen in the best and worst ways. Knowing just how to keep you breathing or to make you hold your breath when necessary.  

His gaze was like hot coals to a fire. His gaze was nearly fire itself.  

His touch was worse. It left lingering want on your skin for hours, days, and weeks.  

Just one brush of his fingers while he stared into your eyes was enough to make you stay holed up in your room at night.  

It was dangerous to be around Chanyeol and the days were becoming numbered because the more you stayed near him, the harder it was to tell yourself you needed to leave.  

You had to run before you were broken again. You had already been ruined once and couldn’t take heartbreak again. At least that’s what you told yourself even if every day was heartbreak in itself since you couldn’t stop feeling things for Chanyeol.  

“What has been on your mind? You’ve been so quiet lately. Are you hurting because of him still?” Chanyeol asked gently as he took a spot on your bed once the two of you had returned from grocery shopping.  

Shaking your head gently, you let out a puff of air. “No, I’m okay.”

Chanyeols large eyes crinkled at the sides, “Wow, that was the first time you said that and I actually believed you.”

You shrugged. “I still think about him and it still hurts. Fuck, it hurts but most days, I can still get through. Being around you makes things seem less heavy.’

He smiled brightly at you. “Didn’t I tell you that moving in with me was a great idea?”

One of his hands brushed over your forearm.  

“I won’t let what he did ruin you anymore,” he sighed. “And I’m sorry for the pieces it did ruin but I’ll undo the damage. No matter how long it takes.”

Chills traveled up your arm from his touch and down your spine but you still sighed. “Eventually you have to have a life of your own, Chanyeol. Rebuilding me is not your job.”

He scoffed. “But it’s a job I want,” he said softly as he moved closer and touched your chin gently with his free hand. “I’m right where I want to be.”

In that moment, you could feel the air being sucked out of the room and your lungs tried to grasp for air that wasn’t there. Chanyeols gaze was hot on you and your skin started to crawl. “Chanyeol…?” His name fell from your lips before you could stop it and he cocked his head as he heard the tremble in your voice.  

“Hmm?” He mused as his fingertips grazed the skin on your arm gently.

“I don’t understand.”

He shrugged, “You will. Just understand this. I won’t stop until Kyungsoo is a distant memory. I won’t stop until you forget what it was like to love him.”

For many reasons as the weeks passed by, you tried to avoid Chanyeol. The best you could. But there were nights like this, nights that Baekhyun, Jongin, and Chanyeol decided that they wanted a friends night. A night where all of you hung out together without significant others the way you did in high school. Of course, there was an element to this that was missing, Kyungsoo.  

It wasn’t that you minded and in fact, you were happier that he wasn’t there but still, you wondered if the three boys missed him. You wondered why the included you and not him.  

Apart from thoughts of him, you couldn’t keep your mind off the tall brown haired boy next to you. His large hand splayed on the armrest and teetering a little too close for your hearts safety.  

You wondered briefly what it would be like to encase your hand in his. You were sure Chanyeol had held your hand before but that was when you weren’t feeling like this. That was before the thought of Chanyeol made you react in a way that was unhealthy.  

“What are you thinking of?” Baekhyun whispered in your ear as the four of you sat in chairs at the movie theatre, waiting for the movie Jongin picked to start. You gripped the popcorn that was sitting dangerously on your lap.  

You glanced at Baekhyun, pupils shaking as you thought of how to respond to him. Kyungsoo was a hard subject to talk about but even harder was the other thing that was on your mind. Chanyeol.

“Nothing,” you whispered back innocently.  

He scoffed. “You think I’m stupid?”  

Rolling your eyes at him, you just shifted in your seat.  

He smacked you and made you jostle the popcorn a bit, nearly spilling it all over yourself.  

Growling, you looked over at him.  

“You’ve been doing better. Answering my texts, not clawing my face off when I saw the forbidden name, smiling more. We’ve noticed,” he said matter-factly.  

You raised a brow. “Yeah, maybe I finally decided to get over it.”

“Or maybe someone is helping.”

Instantly you froze when the insinuation dripped from Baekhyuns words. “I don’t know what that is supposed to mean.” You turned away but Baekhyun just leaned into you so he could whisper in your ear.  

“I see the way you look at him. I’m no fool when it comes to love. I’ve seen it in you before. I’ve seen heartbreak in you. I know you better than you think. But not better than him.”

Smacking him away with your free hand, you tried to scoot as far from him as you possibly could while giving him a dirty look. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned to Chanyeol, realizing you had scooted closer to him in the process.  

“Is he harassing you?” Chanyeol asked while looked over your head to glare at Baekhyun.  

You nodded meekly while looking up at Chanyeols serious face. His arm wrapped around your shoulders to swat at Baekhyun while he scolded him for bothering you.  

Even after he was finished, his arm remained around you and it caused you to shiver. What was worse was that Baekhyun was eyeing you knowingly and that made your shivers intensify which made Chanyeol grip you tighter.

“Y/N!” Chanyeol yelled down the hallway.  

You gulped and locked the door to the bathroom and tried to make your breathing as quiet as you could.  

“Y/N, I’ll find you no matter how good you hide,” he sang.  

You trembled with adrenaline as you heard his loud footsteps near the bathroom. One hand clutched over your chest as you tried to silence yourself while he walked by. He fumbled with a few door knobs but then he sighed and retreated.  

As you heard his footsteps disappear, you let out a shaky breath followed by a small giggle which you immediately regretted. Your own hand slapped over your mouth but it was too late. The bathroom door swung open, revealing a shirtless Chanyeol clad in nothing other than jeans.  

Your eyes grew wide and your cheeks flamed immediately.  

He looked at you in shock. “You swore you didn’t have my shirt,” he pointed at you wildly, “but there it is, on your damn body.” He looked disappointed and you tried to keep your eyes on his face.  

It was becoming impossible not to let your eyes trail down to his naked torso that your hands were begging to wrap around. If Chanyeol wasn’t in the room, you would have a serious talk with yourself.

“So are you going to take it off?” He asked as he folded his arms over his chest. 

You pulled your gaze from him and looked down at yourself realizing that you, in fact, were wearing his shirt without a bra. You couldn’t help it. Chanyeols close we’re comfy and he said you were welcome to wear them whenever you wanted. How were you supposed to know that you picked his favorite to become partial to? Especially on the night you were supposed to go to some art show with him. 

“Um, Chanyeol…”

He raised a brow, “What? We’re all adults here. Not like I haven’t seen you in your bra. Just give me the shirt because we are running late and Junmyeon will kill me if we’re late.”

Like word vomit, the words were out before you could stop them. “I’m not wearing a bra.”

Chanyeols face crinkled and he grew stiff in a matter of seconds. He turned almost instantly and retreated from the bathroom. “I’ll pick something else.”

Being too shocked to do anything else, you quickly put a bra on and decided to keep Chanyeol’s shirt on.

The whole ride to the gallery, Chanyeol was quiet and you watched how he nervously tapped the steering wheel while he drove.  

Once you arrived, you grabbed his arm gently and tried to ignore the fire that erupted in your belly. “Are you okay?”

His worried glance fell into a goofy grin. “I’m sorry. There is so much on my mind. I’m okay.”

You shouldn’t have asked but your mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. “What’s on your mind?”

His gaze burned on you. “Something I'd rather not say in front of this entire art gallery. If you still want to know, ask me when we get home.”

You understood. Hell, you weren’t stupid either. You knew exactly what he was implying which was that his thoughts were meant to be kept in private and that they were less than gentlemanly.  

Once his mouth closed, a gentle smile formed on his lips and he placed a hand protectively on your back as he led you into the gallery.  

It seemed touching you was the theme of the night for Chanyeol because he always kept you within fingers grasp and whenever he could, he would have one hand wrapped on you or draped over you.

Even so, you didn’t question it.  

You didn’t question anything until Chanyeol locked the front door behind you too and the both of you were encased in the darkness of the house. Neither of you made any movement to turn on any lights though.  

“What did you mean?” You whispered into the dark.  

You could see him through the moonlight that poured in through the blinds of the window. He took two strides and was in front of you.  

“I’ve tried to compose myself,” he said quietly. “I’ve tried stopping myself from thinking and feeling what I do – but it’s hard.”

His hands reached out for you, grasping your cheeks gently and causing a sharp intake of breath on your end.  

“You’ve been on my mind.”

“What?” You asked quietly.  

He nodded, his fingers splaying across your cheeks. “All I can think about is you. You and your sweet face. Your gentle heart. All things innocent and all things not so innocent. You wearing my shirt today was the breaking point. Y/N, I can’t hold it in anymore. I can’t fight that I care about you. I want to be around you every second of the day. I know it’s wrong, it’s so wrong for me to feel this way when I’m supposed to be helping but-“

“You are helping,” you replied without thinking.

“But am I? Here I am falling in love with you when you’re in love with someone else. How does that help? But how can I stop myself? How do I stop from kissing you when you look at me that way?”

“Don’t,” you whispered. “Don’t stop yourself.”

You don’t know what you were thinking but you weren’t thinking straight. Or maybe thinking about Chanyeol was you thinking straight. All you knew was his hands on you had been the best feeling in the world and you would do anything to keep his touch.

Chanyeols lips were on you before you could process everything that was going on. You wrapped your arms around his neck, falling into him as his lips encased your own. You could feel his warmth radiating from his body and it made your tremble.  

His tongue tracing your lips was enough to cause your heart to leap out of your chest. You felt warm all over and especially between your legs. Chanyeol was making you feel all the things you hadn’t in years – if you felt this way at all in the past. You were overwhelmed and your senses were flooded with the scent and taste of Chanyeol.  

The kiss was heated as Chanyeol pressed you to the nearest wall. A low rumble sounded in his chest as he did so and you used every sense in you to stop from wrapping your legs around him and begging him to take you to his room.  

When a small moan fell passed your lips, Chanyeol pulled away and smiled. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that.”

You stared at him, your body quaking and your mind whirling.  

It continued that way even as Chanyeol pressed a kiss to your head and bid you goodnight. “I’m not going to push my luck,” he said with a wink as you watched him retreat to his bedroom.  

For several moments you stayed standing in the dark hallway as you watched Chanyeols bedroom light go out. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. After so many years you had been kissed again. It wasn’t some drunken sloppy or regretted kiss.it was a kiss that made you feel things. Feel things like the way you used to with Kyungsoo. But this was different – better in many ways but worse in a couple.  

At first, Loving Kyungsoo wasn’t hard. He was someone you had trusted wholeheartedly – even if that was in vain. Everything with him was new and fresh. Everything with him was the first time. There was no mess in your heart. There was nothing broken there.  

On the other hand, loving Chanyeol was something you didn’t think your body could take. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him but Kyungsoo had rendered your trust for others no matter how much you wanted to trust them. It was simple: you always trusted Kyungsoo. He never seemed to be the man to break your heart. He never seemed to be the one to leave his love. But he did. The love you had with him was long, drawn out, and passionate. It was a love for the books. The love everyone was jealous of. Therefore, you foolishly trusted him.  

No matter how gentle Chanyeols touch was, no matter how much you felt your heart clench for him, and no matter how much of Kyungsoo he mad you forget – there would always be the what if. What if he did what Kyungsoo did? What if you gave him your all and then ended up broken again? What if it ruined you? What if you and Chanyeol ruined each other?

The worries had you up all night.  

The atmosphere in the house had evolved and the world around you changed into something you couldn’t put your finger on. Was it love?

Chanyeol obviously had feelings for you, and you had feelings for him. But what did that mean? What would come of you guys the following days?

Your thoughts eventually led you to your car. A small overnight bag packed and not even a note in your wake. You had to get out. You had to leave before there was anything else that transpired. You had to leave before Chanyeol left you, the same way Kyungsoo did.  

Chanyeol would understand. He would move on and find another woman. Even if it seemed impossible for you to find someone else, you knew at least he could since Kyungsoo did the same.  

You left before Chanyeol could wake for the morning and were at your parents by noon. In your hurry, you left your phone behind so your parents were just as shocked as you were that you were there.  

“Honey, I didn’t know you were coming for a visit,” your mother said gently as her eyes trailed over your disheveled appearance. She looked you over a couple times before pulling you into her arms. She sighed. “Regardless, we are glad to see you. You look well,” and while you knew that was half a lie, you also knew that you did look better. Even being tormented by your love for Chanyeol, you still looked better than you did after Kyungsoo. Those were the darkest times of your life and you were glad to be through with them.  

Another reason you couldn’t take a chance with Chanyeol. You couldn’t face the dark again even though it seemed you could already see it clouding in at the thought of going on without him.  

Your parents were more than accommodating. They didn’t even ask why you had chosen to come and stay the night. They didn’t question why you were running from your close friend Chanyeol when you had told them before that you were happy to stay with him.  

They cooked you a large breakfast even though they very well knew that when you were upset, getting you to eat was impossible. But they loved you and just that bit of affection was enough to help warm the parts of your heart that had gone cold.

Even through the drama with Kyungsoo and your darkest hours, they still wanted you to eat well and grow strong. You knew they still thought that their wants for grandchildren were all in vain but that they hoped anyways.  

The day seemed the pass slowly and while your parents had tried surrounding you with devices of entertainment and family bonding, you couldn’t help but look at your hands and wish that Chanyeol was there to hold them.  

You were scared of him.  

Well, maybe you were scared of you.  

Kyungsoo had been the one to leave you so maybe it wasn’t the man you had to be scared of but it was you that was the problem one.  

Maybe you loved too hard. Maybe you clung too much. Maybe you weren’t enough.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.  

You wanted to grip your hair and scream. You wanted answers and you wanted them now. But nowhere were the answers to be had.  

You were still unresolved in why things with Kyungsoo came to an end and even if you were over the relationship for the most part, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.  

Your mother's voice is what pulled you from the deep confines of your worries. “Someone is here for you,” she said carefully. Your gaze pulled up and standing behind her, you saw his tall form. You saw his large brown eyes that had bags recessed underneath them. You took in his too disheveled appearance that matched your own.  

“What are you doing here?”  

Your mother was quick to dismiss herself leaving Chanyeols gaze to burn holes into yours. “I’m going to take you home.”

You shook your head. “Chanyeol, just let it go. Let me leave. It’s better like this.”

He scoffed and narrowed his eyes. “For who?”

“All of us.”

Again he scoffed and advanced on you. His hands gripped yours. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. “ the warmth in his hands made you quiver. Your heartbeat was erratic against your chest.  

“But I get to decide what’s best for me,” you muttered.

Again, he was in disbelief. “Don’t allow the past to paint who you are today. I’m not him and if I care for you, it won’t stop. If I love you, you won’t wake up in doubt. Ever.”

You glared at him and tried to keep yourself from exploding in a mess of tears. Chanyeol was the uncertain. Chanyeol was the one man you thought you’d never love but yet you loved anyway. Chanyeol made you feel different than anyone else and here you were pushing him away. Pushing him away because it was what was best. Or that’s at least what you thought.

“I thought the same thing with Kyungsoo,” you said with a shake in your voice. “I never suspected him to stop loving me. I never thought I would go on without him. And here we are. I can’t take that risk again. I can’t ruin me and I definitely can’t ruin you.”

Chanyeol was taken aback, “Me? You won’t ruin me. You are what I want and I know you want me too. How can I prove to you that I’m not Kyungsoo? How can I prove that if I love you, it won’t ever stop?”

You stayed quiet and Chanyeol nodded.  

“I can’t prove it all at once, no matter how bad I want to,” he said quietly. “But I can promise that I will prove it to you. I will show you with the days that pass. I will show you that I am not someone who leaves behind those he loves. Isn’t it clear Y/N? Isn’t it clear that I’ve always loved you? When have you seen me with any other woman throughout the years? I’ve loved you since the moment I met you. I loved you when you loved Kyungsoo. I’ve had to cope all of these years with you loving someone else and you have no idea how much it killed me. But even so, it killed me more when he broke you. Because I knew that I would have never done that to you. And I won’t.”

You paused, all the breath leaving your lungs. “You loved me all this time? All these years?”

He smiled, “I would be stupid not to love you.”

“But how? How could you love me all those years and still be close to me? How could you watch me love someone else?”

He lifted one of his hands to your face and brushed his thumb over a stray tear that had fallen. “When you love someone, you will do anything to see them happy – even if it hurts you in turn. You know that already though, don’t you? You didn’t just run because of you but you ran because of me. You didn’t want to hurt me.”

“I ruined him. He never did anything to stop me from loving him but I did something to make him stop loving me,” you looked down but Chanyeols hands pulled your face back up.  

“How many times do I have to tell you that that’s not true? You’ve only ever made me love you more. Never less. Something was wrong with him, not you. You didn’t stop loving him because you are loyal and that we have in common. Y/N, let me prove it to you. Take the chance with me. Take a chance and I promise it will turn out okay.”

You sniffled and stood up, feeling strength overcome your body. “Swear to me, Chanyeol, swear you’ll never break my heart.”

You stood in front of him and placed your hands on his waist as you shook. “I swear.”

“I want to believe you so bad,” you cried, “but I can’t.”

He nodded. “It’s okay. Let me make you believe it.”

You realized then that love was a risk worth taking because the world had millions of what ifs and if you stopped yourself from facing those uncertainties, you weren’t really living at all.  

So you decided you would live with the uncertainty that could be Chanyeol because nothing had felt more right.  

You would let him make you believe it and even if you had doubts and fears, nothing felt more right than letting Chanyeol wrap his arms around you and take you home.  

The gentle caress of his hands helped fade all the pain you had faced.  

Chanyeol was no Kyungsoo but that was in the best ways possible.  

His touch was different. His lips were different. His scent was different.  

But it was all perfect.  

You thought you had fit perfectly with Kyungsoo but you learned that you fit perfectly with Chanyeol. He was the hot to your cold. He was the calm to your storm.

He gave you exactly what you wanted without throwing reason into the equation. He loved you fiercely.

Chanyeol and you were two puzzle pieces that were long lost from each other. Other pieces had been forced into you and forced into him but after years when you finally came together, you found that the two of you fit perfectly.  

For years you tried to force Kyungsoo and your own pieces together when there was your perfect match right in front of you. Your perfect match who had always loved you. Your match who you would now always love.  

Always.  

Kyungsoo gripped the package in his hands as they shook. He sat on the concrete stairs of the porch, not caring if he dirtied his black dress pants.

It was your name that had stopped him on his way to work. Your name carefully scrawled on the return address on the package. A name he wanted to hide from but yet, he saw it everywhere. In his thoughts, in his dreams, and now in real life.

Kyungsoo was no cruel man. He still felt so many emotions surrounding you. Emotions that were kept a secret from the world.

Somedays, on days like this, he wondered why he had kept the emotions secret for so long. But he shook his head at the thought this time. Things were the way they were supposed to be, right?

He pushed you away. It was he that made things the way they were today and he was responsible for the unhappiness you both faced.

The moment he left you, he missed you and he never stopped.

He married and thought that the marriage would fix the broken pieces in his heart. He hoped it would fix the scattered remains but nothing did.

No matter how much alcohol he drank before bed.

He only dreamt of you.

Maybe you hadn’t seen Chanyeol’s love for you, but Kyungsoo had. Kyungsoo knew it before Chanyeol himself did. Chanyeol’s unconditional love for you was what had pushed Kyungsoo to leave you. When things got rough with you and Kyungsoo would vent to Chanyeol, he could see the pain in his friend's eyes. He could read the unspoken words from Chanyeol’s mind. Chanyeol was always on your side no matter how loyal he was to Kyungsoo.

He thought he was doing what was best for you since the two of you ended up in so many fights. He thought he was making you happy.

He thought maybe, in turn, he would be happy too.

But he was wrong.

At least about the latter. Chanyeol had pursued you from what Chanyeol had told him and when Kyungsoo asked how you were doing, Chanyeol told him that he hadn’t seen you this happy in a while.

Kyungsoo still loved you and while half of him wanted to run back to you, he knew you were just now healing - just now finding happiness and after all he had put you through, he couldn’t put you through any more pain.

He loved you and would never stop.

Just as the note he found inside your package had said, “love never fades, it’s either always there or it never existed.”

His love never faded. It always existed.

He clutched the mugs one by one in his hands and felt a tear spill from his eyes as he remembered the times with you. So maybe things weren’t always perfect between the two of you, but you were always perfect.

Kyungsoo frowned and swiped the tear away.

He would have to carry on without you knowing that no matter how much he still loved you, that he never loved you as much as Chanyeol does. Kyungsoo had found the power in him to leave you and he knew Chanyeol could never do that.

Chanyeol wouldn’t let you hurt. He wouldn’t fight with you until you were to the point you were broken.

Chanyeol loved you more than Kyungsoo could ever and Kyungsoo loved you as much as he could.

Chanyeol could give you the world you needed and no matter how much Kyungsoo wished it could still be him, fate had worked out the way it had for a reason.

Sometimes knowing that the person you love is happy, is enough to get by in life and Kyungsoo hoped that was true as he slipped off his wedding ring, left it on the porch, and carried the mugs inside the house

[thewnchstrs]

The Day

*not my gif

Pairing: none...yet

Summary: the reader is head over heels for Sam but doesn’t know how to react around him, even though they’re extremely close so Dean tries to help

Disclaimers: swearing

Word Count:

A/N: this was requested on Wattpad and this is the edited and re uploaded version. Finally a Sam oneshot!!

Masterlist

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My eyelids were shitty curtains.

The minute the sun woke up, so did I. The warm rays of the sun poured through the window in my bedroom at the bunker. I couldn’t complain, really. It was one of the only bedrooms in the half-underground fortress with a window. “The only room with a view,” Dean always said when he came in, admiring the small glimpse into the outside world that just peaked over the grass. 

I threw my covers off, hoping for a little more than only three hours of shut eye, but the day waits for no one. 

The minute my feet hit the cold stone floor, my skin shook in protest, begging me to lie back down under the safety of my covers. However, I pushed through the cold and made my way to the door, pausing at my mirror standing in the corner of my room. 

I took n the sight of me in my wrinkled t-shirt and shorts that were so baggy the only way to keep them on my hips was the string tightly tied to keep them afloat. The curls of my uncooperative hair stood up at odd angles, even as I forced it into a ponytail. I had hair like my mother’s, my sister’s. As strange and unforgiving it was, I’ve come to love it, because Sam loves it too.

Of course, it’s a stupid reason to love something just because the guy you have a major crush on likes it too.

But it’s Sam fucking Winchester.

I always tell myself, “today’s the day, Y/N! You’re going to tell him you like him, if you don’t, you’re going to be stuck in this very spot for the rest of your life! Go get ‘em, tiger!”

I’ve been telling myself that for a good year and a half, now.

It’s remarkable that Dean caught on before Sam. Don’t get me wrong- Dean is by far one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, but I always thought Sam was more observative. 

When I’d realized I was still looking at myself in the mirror, mostly daydreaming, I shook my head, finally deciding that I looked presentable enough to eat a bowl of cereal, relishing in the fact that Sam and Dean weren’t going to be back from their hunt for another three hours, at least, meaning I could prance around the bunker without a bra on if I wanted to.

The hallway outside of my door was dark and smelled as it had when I’d arrived that one fateful night three years ago. The smell of gunpowder and whiskey and yellowing pages from the library. A smell that wasn’t unlike the back of Dean’s car. But it’s strange, how smells can change. For instance, the closer I got to the kitchen, the more it smelled like freshly brewed coffee and a little like aftershave. It smelled exactly like-

“Sam!” I blurted, staring wide-eyed at the giant sitting in the giant room at the giant table with the giant coffee cup. Everything looks bigger now as I start to get smaller and smaller. 

“Morning, Y/N.” Sam The Jolly Plaid Giant smiles at me before looking back down at the giant newspaper, size 4,000 font. 

I quickly crossed my tiny arms in front of my tiny chest and manage a half-hearted smile as Dean, the Jolly Plaid Giant’s equally giant big brother, comes into the room after me. Wishing I could shrink into nothingness.

“Made eggs, Y/N. Or are you sticking to the usual?” Dean asks, scooping eggs onto a plate, little mini suns. 

“You know what, I think I will have eggs.“ I nodded proudly as if I’d just chosen to do something heroic. 

Dean raised his eyebrows at me, “wow, feeling rebellious today, are we?” He must’ve caught me trying my best to avert my gaze away from Sam when his eyes bounced from me to his brother, and then back to me again. He smirked slightly, wiggling his eyebrows. I glared at him, taking a seat across from Sam as Dean cracked another egg against the hot pan. 

“So, the case went easier than expected?” I asked, trying to start up a conversation. 

“Not our kind of thing, actually. The werewolf, Dean was so sure was a werewolf, was actually a coyote that was going around and eating people’s pets.” his green-blue eyes flicked to Dean to see if it had gotten his attention, but Dean just shook his head, probably having already heard the constant taunts from Sam about a big bad coyote. Sam laughed under his breath as he went back to reading the words on the paper, scanning the page with intense focus, his eyebrows knitted together. “but I’m trying to find us a new case, you know how antsy Dean gets when we’re off the job too long.”

“I do not get antsy!” Dean shot back, defensively.

“Whatever you say,” Sam smiled to himself and glanced up at me, smiling widely, his eyes searching my face as if there was an answer hidden there he was desperately trying to find. I felt myself grow red, starting at the base of my neck and crawling its way up my cheeks and ears. 

“What?” I blushed, self-consciously tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

He hesitated before answering, his mouth moving without any words coming out before he laughed, “nothing, you just- you look really pretty.”

My heart exploded.

Blood and heart tissue flying from my chest and splattering the table, the floor and the walls. 

Romantic. Right?

I bit my lip to keep myself from smiling too widely as the butterflies in my stomach did the mamba.

He smiled again and took another sip of his coffee, his attention back to the words in front of him.

From behind us, Dean elicted an irritated groan from the other side of the kitchen, “just make out already!” 

Sam’s face heated up just like mine had as Dean clicked the stove off and shoveled the eggs onto the plate in front of me.

But I couldn’t eat. He told me I was pretty.

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The bar was filled with sweaty guys playing darts and gambling beside pool tables. The air thick with the scent of booze. Young girls milling around, either ditched by their dates or trying to find ones. The deeper we got into the bar, the darker the lights became and the more polluted the air was with smoke, so we found a table near the door in hopes of getting fresh air every to often.

We came because of our bad luck in finding cases. The supernatural world had been quietly lately, something more than strange, but we tried not to think much of it, considering this was one of the longest breaks we’ve gotten in weeks.

“Well, I’m going to grab some more beers, be right back.” Sam said, making his way across the bustling room. It was incredible, the way he walked. Like the world would part just for him.

“Hey,” Dean said, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “enough of the googly eyes. And close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

I quickly switched my gaze to Dean, “I wasn’t staring.”

“I didn’t say you were staring, I just said you’d catch flies.” He smirked in triumph, bringing his beer to his lips and swallowing the last of it. “And don’t lie to me, I’ve mastered the art of lying.”

“Dean, this is serious.”

After a beat had passed, his eyes widened slightly in realization. “Wow...my God, you really like him don’t you?” 

I nodded, staring at my empty beer bottle, picking at the label with the nail of my thumb.

“Why don’t you just tell him?”

“Just, ‘tell him’?“ I said in disbelief, looking at Dean now. “What kind of advice is that? Besides, I’m sure Sam could pick out at least twelve girls in here he’d rather be with.” 

“Y/N...you gotta be kidding me. Hey- look at me.” He was nearly over the table now, only a few feet from my face, watching me with intense eyes. I pulled my eyes way from the sticky table to him. “I know for a fact, that Sam likes you too. I don’t know how you two can be so oblivious...He’d be stupid to turn you down- and if he did, I’d kick his ass.”

I nodded, the mental image of Dean killing Sam because he didn’t want to go out with me nearly made me laugh, but as Sam came back, sliding each of us a beer, I knew then what I had to do.

Today is going to be the motherfucking day.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I sat in the back of the Impala on the way home, my leg bouncing to the rhythm of the music. I tried to focus on the lyrics but my heart was louder, pounding against my ribcage every time I took a breath.

Sooner than expected, we pulled in front of the bunker, the Impala’s lights reflecting off the stone of the building through the pouring rain. 

Maybe I shouldn’t do it today. It’s raining and if we stay outside too long we might catch hypothermia and my toes will fall off which will make me even more unattractive and hopefully I’ll be lucky enough to keep all ten fingers so I can at least hold his hand but if I do lose my fingers then my chances with SamWinchesterwillbeeevenslimmerbecausewhowanttodateagirltheycan’tevenholdhandswith-

The sound of the music inside the car stopped and so did my racing thoughts.

“Well, kids.” Dean began as we all slid out of the car. “I’m heading in.” quickly, he locked the car before running down the steps to the bunker. Sam and I walked side by side, the light mist of rain pattered over us.

Now or never, kid.

We both seemed to take a simultaneous breath before we both turned to look at each other at the same time. 

“I have to tell you something,” we said in unison, as if we were wired together. Sam smiled lightly, “you first.”

I took a deep breath before beginning, my heart twisting and my stomach in knots. “Sam, I just needed to tell you that I’ve liked you for a very long time, and by very long time I mean for over a year, like I’ve just flat-out fallen in love with you and every morning since we’ve met.” I blurted, his eyes widening slightly but I continued, unable to stop, even as the rain began falling like bullets around us, this was important. “I told myself that today was going to be the day and I’ve never said it until now and I’m really regretting it because I think about just how long we could’ve already been together and I love how you smile and I love your dimples and I love the way you make me love myself and I love my hair because you love my hair and I love your hair, too and now look at where we are in the pouring rain and I’m scared I’ll get hypothermia and die or lose my fingers which I think would be even worse than dying because I’d be with  you every day for the rest of my light but I’d never get to hold your hand-” 

“Y/N!” Sam laughed, his hands on my shoulders. I took a deep breath, feeling slightly light headed from talking so quickly. He smiled, brushing a piece of curly hair out of my eyes. He scanned my face with his blue-green oceans and kissed me.

At first, I jumped back, but quickly fell into him, our bodies fitting like puzzle pieces. Every piece of him in sync with every piece of me and together, we were whole.

He pulled back, sooner than I’d hoped. He rested his rain-slicked forehead on mine and looked at me like I was the best thing that’d ever happened to him. He was by far the best thing that’s happened to me. 

I smiled, as we laced our fingers together. “It’s about time you made your move, Winchester.”

[chesterfield-ramblings]

Resist

Hello there. Alex here; this is my first original writing for the blog, unprompted and completely from my own imagination.

I apologize that here, in the blog’s early days, there haven’t been many updates: part of running this blog is also a part of me finding myself, and what I want in life. Writing is a way of spilling my thoughts in a way that I cannot do in everyday conversation, so for now, these writings are scattered and reflect the darkest corners of my mind.

In the near future, however, I sincerely hope that I will develop good writing habits, and that I will be able to churn out a couple of stories like this, unprompted or not, every week. Without further ado, here is Resist, a dystopian take on a future with robots, created from humans and doomed to indentured servitude without any connection to their past.

[Read on AO3]

He wakes, and he chokes on blood and saliva, straining to expel the fluid from his throat and his lips. His entire body convulses, and he looks down when he feels viscous liquid draining not from his lips, but directly from his throat. He strains to touch his fingers to his throat, but they are bound to either side of him, and he cannot move his head. He can only move his eyes. He shakes. He gasps. He cannot see, but his eyes are open. They’ve always been open. He can’t blink.

Suddenly, his vision flickers before him. The room before him is dark, filled with pipes and machinery. The bindings around his arms suddenly release, and he drops to the floor in a crumple, the floor beneath him clattering with the sound of it. Fluid oozes from his throat. He brings his fingers to the tendons of his neck, and looks down at his fingers.

Oil. It’s not blood. It’s oil.

His fingers are metal bone. His arm-- his arms-- are sheets of metal over wires. He touches his chest. Metal. His head. Metal.

No. No no no no no no no no.

He’s been Integrated.

God damn it, he’s been Integrated.

He wants to hyperventilate, but the task is impossible with no lungs in which to do so. The coughing prior had been a mere instinctual reaction-- an instinct that was now inessential in order to survive. He tried holding his breath-- shockingly, he didn’t feel himself panic at the thought. There was no risk of suffocation. He had no reason to fear.

Somehow, he found, his eyes still blinked-- for what reason, he was not sure yet. To focus? To recalibrate? Integrated were seldom spoken of, and understood even less on a widescale basis. He had no idea how this new body worked. He didn’t even remember his name--

A flash of red light startled him, and there was only static in his voice as he flinched and scrambled back. Above the door leading out of this room was a great round monitor, a single red optic device leering down. The screen flickered, and a low, mechanical voice awoke.

“Integration 1,576,322,969-- welcome. You have been in post-brain transfer stasis for 97 days.”

Jesus!

“Your unit designation is 327-SS-19.”

Something in his wires, at the sound of those numbers, cause him to leap to his feet-- jolted him to attention against his will. Even as a machine… he could still process pain. The electricity that ran through his wires was like being shot in the arm, and yet, still, all that came from his vocal processor was static.

“As an Integrated machine, you will be responsible for sustaining human society from the shadows. Today’s population numbers over 16 billion, and this number increases every day. Integrations are the backbone of human life, and their duties can vary from janitorial duty, to working in the food industry, to construction, and even maintaining a healthy home environment. Your role will be a prime example of human intelligence and engineering, and pioneering towards a more sustainable, relaxing future.”

He looked around, until he found a broken bolt on the dusty floor, and tossed it at the monitor, hard, hissing and spitting static.

“Please do not attack me,” the eye on the monitor begged, the monotone voice almost working up some facsimile of hurt. “You have been given a gift. You no longer suffer from basic human needs, such as hunger or lust. You have been freed.”

Out of the pan and into the fire, more like. He paced across the floor as the monitor continued to speak to him, barely registering most of its likely pre-recorded words.

Integrated lost everything. Their homes, their families, their jobs, their dreams. More likely than not, he had been transported far, far away from sweet little Lansford, North Dakota, and he would have no chance to explain what had happened. He wouldn’t be able to speak with his pregnant wife. He wouldn’t be able to kneel down to his six year old daughter and explain that this world was cruel, and snatched people up without rhyme or reason and no one could do a damn thing.

No one even tried anymore. It was just the reality of this existence. If you were chosen, that was it. That was the end. There were speculations, of course, on who was more likely to be chosen; the mentally and physically disabled, homosexuals, low grade graduates, but in the end, it really did just seem to be unfortunate chance.

And, in his own case, very unfortunate chance.

“... have been assigned housekeeping duty in the city of: Lansford, North Dakota.”

He froze in his pacing, vision snapping up to the red glow of the monitor. No. No way. Surely, he had to have misheard. There was just no way. The chance was just way too slim. Housekeeping, in his own hometown.

“In T-minus thirty seconds, you will be released into Lansford, North Dakota, and will be given your first cleaning assignment by the Integrated Overseer for this county. You will proceed down the hall, and make an immediate left at the first opportunity. Thank you for your contributions towards a brighter, safer, more human-friendly world.”

He prepared himself, backing up as far away from the door as he could. He had no idea what awaited him on the other side. He almost didn’t want to know.

But now, he had a goal: find his family. Explain the situation. Beg for help. Because he was here, he was home, surely, that meant he could do something. He had to be able to escape from this hell.

The monitor flickered. There was fifteen seconds left.

He wouldn’t go get his assignment. He would find his way out, and run. And he would not stop, until he made it home. And he would knock on the door (because scaring his family was the last thing he wanted to do) and he would explain to them…

Explain how? His voice… God damn it, his voice! How was he supposed to articulate who he was if he couldn’t even speak! Or remember his name, for that matter! Damn it! He banged his metal fist on the wall, and looked upon his reflection in horror. All his face was was two eyes and a painted smile.

He didn’t even look like the father of his children anymore.

His shoulders drooped, his head falling even farther…

And then the door slid open, and he bolted.

White, reflective walls gleamed at him from all directions, disorienting him. He ignored that first left, and continued to run forwards.

“... 327-SS-19. Cease your resistance.”

Another electric shock ran through his wires, and more static was all that came from his screaming, but still, he ran. He stumbled at the pain, but he did not stop. There was a door ahead of him, and he braced for impact, but it slid open anyways. Did they not have a lockdown system? Surely, others had tried to escape before him, right?

It was only a fleeting thought as he continued to dart blindly around each corner he came across, following exit signs to the best of his ability. When the wind and sun finally hit him, he processed its existence, but he did not feel it. He knew it was there, and he could see the sun in his optics, and the waving branches of bioluminescent trees, but there was no warmth from the light, or shiver from the breeze. There was the sound of panting emanating from his lungs, but with a non-pliant chest, the wheezing was unnaturally frightening.

Did he know where he was?  Lansford, North Dakota, that much was apparent, but where. It was a small town; surely, he could find his way home before something happened. Without further thought or consideration, the bot broke into a sprint once again, distancing himself from the great towering factory that manufactured the Integrated.

It was several hours before he stumbled across streets he knew, though with the haze of static in his optics, it was difficult to piece together the houses and the people who lived in them in his mind. His family… they had to be someplace close by. He knew these street names, but north and south, left and right, was all a haze, as if his thinking processes had become dyslexic.

The humans which passed him by gave him strange looks, but for the most part kept to themselves. Humans rarely, if ever, interacted directly with the Integrated. It was a curse, after all-- a curse to be ripped from your own body and stripped of any and all identity. The common fear was that associating yourself with them marked you down for future collection. Best to leave the robots to their duty, and to pretend they didn’t exist at all.

He had been wandering for perhaps two hours, before there was the tell-tale sound of bomb sirens. Of course… those sirens weren’t used for bombs anymore. They were used for escaped Integrations.

Without glancing behind him, he darted around a corner, red lights flashing in his mind. Whether it was warning him to cease his resistance, or it was a simple remnant of his human mind, there was no time to question. Family. It was the one word that shrieked in every corner of his processor. Family.

A dog barked at him as he darted through a lawn not his own, just barely on a chain short enough to prevent it from latching on to his leg. Still, the snarl startled him, and he stumbled, tearing up clumps of grass with feet that could not understand the gentle sensitivity of the earth. The wind rushing through his system was a mere annoyance, just another thing to slow him down. And as he ran though this town of brick and wood houses, all metal parts clanging with each broken step, he slowly came to wonder if, really, even with his mind intact, if there was really any humanity left in him.

The bot came to a swift halt as a police cruiser raced around the corner in front of him, sirens blaring and blinding him with their shine. Defensively, he held up a hand, cringing at the blaring speakers: “Cease your resistance. Resign peacefully. Lay down on the ground with your hands above your head.”

He shook his head, still in denial that there was no hope at all. This was his home. This was his home. Damn it, he knew this place! Where was his house?

His vision darted to his left, downhill, and a shrill beep left his vocalizer. That cracked chimney! Yes! Home! His wife, she would know. She would understand. And if not her, he prayed, begged, to any higher being, that at least his daughter would take pity for the poor robot.

A taser-wire flew past his side, and he jolted out of his shocked musings, sprinting away from the cruiser as fast as his mechanical legs would allow him. Twenty, twenty five miles an hour, with no muscles or tendons to restrict the speed in which his legs could move, only gravity itself, he flew downhill, nearly flying with how quickly his small body darted down. A quick glance over his shoulder, once at the bottom, showed the police cruiser creeping over the edge, preparing to take the climb down itself.

Time was wasting. The clock was ticking. There was no time to be polite about his entrance; if the door was unlocked, he would charge in. If the door was locked, he would break in. He took note of the time in his optical sensors; 4:23. Yes, they would be home. His wife, his dear wife, and sweet little Tara. They would be home. He had a chance.

The door was locked. A broken, “Shit!” managed to be heard from the underused vocalizer. The bot braced himself, head down and shoulder protruding. With a static cry, he flung himself into the door, splintering the wood, but it was not yet enough. From inside the house, there was a startled squeal.

“Mommy?!”

He thrust forwards again, and this time, the wood shattered, sending the bot tumbling onto the floor. The little girl, who had been sitting in front of the TV, shrieked, curling in on herself and backing towards a corner.

Tara. The bot called out her name, but there was no sound, just white noise. He reached out a hand towards her, just as her mother came rushing around the corner. Upon seeing the bot herself, the woman screamed, swinging a broom down at him.

“What are you doing!? Get out! Get out, this is my house! Out!”

His wife… his wife, damnit! Her name! What was her name!? Linda… Linda, Lacy, Lucy… shit! Lily? No! He forced himself to his feet slowly, arms extended in a universal motion of submission. He waved his hands gently-- no no, he meant no harm-- and moved towards the coffee table. When he attempted to reach for a family portrait, the broom passed over his arm, breaking his left hand into bolts and shards of metal.

It was the lack of pain that sent him to his knees at that, vision blurring in confusion and fright. Lynn? Not Lynn, damn it-- Leslie? Why couldn’t he remember!?

He tried again, to reach for one of the family portraits. His wife continued to hold the broomstick high, but only watched with tense arms this time, waiting to attack. Her protruding stomach, with the child that would never know what its father truly looked like, made her seem even more powerful than he knew her to be.

With his right hand, he picked up one of the shattered frames, having been broken when she had swung the broom. He shoved the portrait desperately towards her, pointing to the man on the left-- a man in his late thirties, with a fire-red beard and lake-blue eyes.

But his wife misunderstood. She faked him out with the broom, lower lip trembling in rage. “I don’t know where he is,” she hissed, and the bot shook his head wildly.

Louis, Lexie, Laina-- fuck! The bot groaned, and that sound at the very least made it through, but only earned him a whack across the head with the broom. His vision flickered, and then next he knew, he was being tackled to the ground from behind. Tara was crying to his right, and cuffs were being snapped onto his wrists.

No! No no no! He was here, this was his home, his wife, his child! He struggled beneath them, another whack another reward for his troubles. By now, his vision was blinking in and out, and the connections to his limbs were beginning to weaken, the batteries in his processor obviously being jostled out of place.

Liza… Liza…

“... L-Lisa!” he cried out, looking up towards the woman now cradling her six year old child close. At the sound of her name, her face paled. “Lisa! Lisa, please! It-- It’s me, it’s--!”

Another attack. He blinks. His eyes are open, but he cannot see. He cannot hear. Viscous liquid drains from his throat, onto the rug. His body convulses with an electric jolt.

“Lisa--”

Everything goes blank, and black.

[cscreativecentre]

"Pieces of Another Life" (CS + The Forgotten Son)

Summary: Mostly a cursed Killian point of view story, spec on his character and job for season seven, with little dashes of CS, Captain Cobra, and Captain Charming thrown in.

Rating: PG-13

Officer Colin Rogers slowly drug his weary body into his empty apartment well after midnight, barely taking the energy to toss his keys into the dish on the counter by the door and set his gun and badge next to them. He was bone tired by the end of most shifts, but he had been more so lately. The constant revolution of the same crimes, jealousies, thefts, and hate in an endless loop, people hurting one another without hesitation or remorse; it wore him down.

Toeing off the shoes he wore each day on the welcome mat in the hall, he let out a sigh as he made his way to the kitchen, absently running a hand through his already haphazardly missed dark hair. Reaching the refrigerator, Colin pulled it open and found bread and enough lunch meat and cheese to make sandwich for his long overdue supper. Then he took his plate and a glass of rum into the living room where he sunk into his well-worn couch.

Off his feet at last, Colin bit into his late night meal, chewing thoughtfully as tense muscles held alert and ready all day finally relaxed against the couch cushions. He allowed his thoughts to meander back over his shift on-duty, lingering at the endearing if unusual encounter he’d had while out on patrol.

He had been coming out of a corner convenience store where he’d gone to do a follow-up report on a robbery some weeks back, and as he had stepped out onto the busy sidewalk, he’d heard several youthful shouts of alarm and seem half a dozen middle school aged boys scatter in all directions. Shaking off the resigned disappointment that even youngsters felt an engrained fear and mistrust of officers such as himself who were working to keep them safe, Colin had nearly moved on when he’d noticed one boy clearly left behind by the pack, stooping quietly to pick an item up off the sidewalk and looking suspiciously as though he might be fighting back upset tears.

Colin had walked over, trying to appear as nonchalant and unintimidating as possible, but determined to see that the child was alright. As he had come to stand in front of the kid however, he’d realized the boy was much younger than the ones who had run off. Colin would have judged him to be nine or ten at the most. He wondered briefly why one quote that young was roaming the city streets alone.

The sandy blond was clutching the article he’d retrieved from the sidewalk, which Colin could now see was a battered hardcover book, and tears were indeed swimming in solemn blue eyes, though the youth was stubbornly not allowing them to fall. The pieces slid together in Colin’s mind all too easily from there; clearly this smaller lad had become the object of taunting by the group, probably had his book taken and kept away from reach by the way his was resolutely shielding it now, for whatever arbitrary reasoning terms often used. He still remembered how nonsensical but vicious children could be from his own youth. Though that had been decades ago and overseas, some things never changed, or not as much as folks would like to think.

Determined to cheer the young man a bit, Colin had casually offered his name to which he had received a murmured, “David” when he asked for the lad’s in return. He tried to ignore the odd flare of recognition that warmed his insides at the moniker. It didn’t make sense, as he didn’t know anyone with that name. However, though he could tuck the feeling away for later, it didn’t disappear.

He led the boy to a nearby bus stop bench, took a seat, and hoping to put the youth at ease and get him to do the same, Colin inquired what he was reading with a nod to the book now tucked under David’s arm.

“It’s Peter Pan,” David informed him, looking skeptical that this grown-up might not have read what he clearly regarded as a classic. “My favorite,” he added stoutly.

“Good choice,” Colin nodded, giving the boy a conspiratorial smile. “I’ve always enjoyed that tale myself. I will admit to feeling a bit sorry for Captain Hook though myself. He’s trapped on that island, harried by pesky Lost Boys, stuck with a bumbling crew, Indians haunting his steps, and the adversary who took his hand and fed it to the croc constantly baiting him.”

Pleased to see David opening up at someone willing to listen to his thoughts on Neverland and it’s enchanted adventures, Colin had chuckled good naturedly when the youth’s eyes bugged wide at that admission.

“But Hook’s the villain!” the boy sputtered, looking genuinely aghast. “You can’t root for the bad guy!”

“Oh, even villains have a story, I wager,” Colin answered him with a wink. “True, they’ve chosen to make bad choices and will have to deal with the consequences of those decisions, but they weren’t born villainous. Evil is made by their experiences - what they go through and how it affects them.”

Colin wasn’t sure were the words had come from but they echoed in his brain after their utterance, simply seeming true to him beyond a doubt. David seemed to be chewing on that for the moment and didn’t speak. When the bus pulled up not long after, the boy stood, having clearly been waiting for it all along.

“Thanks for your help before, Officer,” David said by way of farewell.

“You are more than welcome,” Colin had assured him. Then he had seen the lad off with a wave as the bus moved away from the curb and gone back to his cruiser.

No, he thought, now in the barely lit apartment as he sipped his drink. It wasn’t the job that was the problem. Moments like that one, when he helped someone in need, whether that need was big or small, felt worthwhile, as if he were doing some good. It was more that he felt so empty between those moments. As if there had once been something else - or someone else - to live his life for. Sometimes wisps of memory teased his mind, of a house full of people, messy, chaotic, but beloved. However, when he tried to grasp those images and see them clearly, they vanished, and he was alone in this little apartment. It was the loneliness that are at him and left him missing something he knew logically he’d never had. For if this lost past he envisioned had been real, what had happened and why couldn’t he remember?

His mind then shifted to his return to the station that afternoon and the slimy Chief of Detectives , Gold, sticking his head into the bullpen to bark an order to see him in his office. Once there, he had given Colin a dressing down for wasting his time on patrol babying some sniveling child instead of dealing with “real crime”. Heaven knew how the man had even gotten wind of it, but his snide comment that he didn’t want to see any official reports of meanies taking away storybooks had almost been Colin’s breaking point. He’d bitten the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood in order to hold back an angry retort. It would get him nowhere against a superior officer.

The man had always rubbed Colin the wrong way. Something about Gold was altogether slick and conniving, as if he were maneuvering the rest of them around like pawns in a chessboard. Gold didn’t take the big risks of the job himself, sneakily keeping out of harm’s way when things grew truly dangerous and then returning in the aftermath with a cunningly reptilian glint in his eye to take credit for victories or place blame in defeats.

Colin stood up from the couch with effort, knowing he needed to find what sleep he could; tomorrow would be another long day on duty. Curling into bed, he clutched his pillow to him with the strange sense of longing which had begun to plague him; once there had been a warm and real body lying next to him - a husky, feminine laugh against his collarbone and a nose pressed into the hollow of his throat and they had snuggled close together. It was crazy, and yet the idea of it haunted him more with each passing day.

He dreamt in fragments: oversized books in brown leather with gilt lettering on the covers, the waves rolling in the open sea, a yellow Volkswagen, and the glittering threat of a crocodile smile.

~~kj~~kj~~kj~~

The following afternoon found Colin waiting in the ER to be stitched up, still trying to catch his breath from taking a bullet wound to the side. He wanted to blame lack of sleep for the haze that had descended, the way his body had gone on autopilot without awaiting confirmation from his brain. He was lucky it hadn’t been much worse, that he was still sitting there with only a minor injury.

They had taken a domestic disturbance call from a neighbor, a familiar address and a couple they had dealt with before. This time however, when their unit had burst in, things had already escalated seriously. The guy had been screaming at his girlfriend and waving a gun around, long past Amy semblance of reason. Calm negotiation had backfired, the assailant losing it completely at feeling himself patronized. Shots had been fired, Gold had hit the deck, then turned tail and fled. The guy had aimed again, not just for warning this time, but with deadly intent in his eyes as he’d zeroed in on the blonde he had been raging against. Colin hadn’t even thought. He had dived for her, sending them both to the floor in a heap and careening across slick linoleum, the shot meant for her grazing across his ribs like a tongue of fire.

She had been hysterical; screaming and struggling to get up as he slumped against her, the air knocked out of his lungs for a moment. Dazedly, he had registered that his hand was tangled in her long golden hair, having tried to protect her head from impact when they fell. Blinking dumbly, he’d had to fight down the urge to brush through those honeyed strands soothingly, managing - just barely - to resist the impulse, but sure as he lived in that instant that he had done it somewhere before. That he had gently fingered silky tresses as bright as the sun, and that he had done so to calm a person he had loved when they were troubled, though she hovered maddeningly just beyond the reach of recall.

He was still seeking blindly for the rest of the memory - a face, a name, to go with the tactile sensation - when the doctor came in to stitch him up. And when he tried to return to the image later as he left the hospital for home, it was long gone once more.

~~~kj~~kj~~kj~~~

He was home much earlier that night, heating up soup and enjoying it at the kitchen island with milk and warm, crusty, buttered French bread as he mulled over the almost surreal events of the day while gingerly favoring his wounded side. Finished, he took his rum nightcap to the living room once more, unsettled and moving carefully to protect the bandages over his ribs. Aimlessly he flipped through channels on the tv, but nothing caught his interest or allayed his troubled thoughts.

Bringing the glass to his lips, Colin was startled to see that his hand shook slightly, wavering with the uncertainty he felt inside. Why did he have these strange fleeting memories he couldn’t place? The sense of loss that dogged him defied his understanding, but it was not going away. Something or someone - maybe several someones - was missing, whether he could explain it or not, and their absence was coloring his entire life.

Just then, a knock sounded at his door. Puzzled, Colin looked over, wondering who could be seeking him out, but when they continued a second time, he stood and shuffled over to find out. He winced when his movement caught at the stitches and pressed a hand to his throbbing side.

Upon swinging the door open though, his confusion only grew. Before him stood a lean, brown-haired man, appearing to be in his mid-twenties, looking nervous, awkward, and yet blatantly hopeful, and hand on the shoulder of a little dark-eyes girl who stood at his side.

“Hello, do I know you?” Colin asked doubtfully, not wanting to appear rude but not thinking he had ever seen the man before.

The stranger offered his hand with a tiny half-smirk that oddly reminded Colin of a younger version of himself, and a spark of that same playful something repeated itself in the younger man’s eyes. Clearing his throat, the visitor shook Colin’s hand when he held it out and began to speak. “Hi, I’m Henry Mills. I know you won’t remember this… but once upon a time, I was your stepson.”

by @snowbellewells

[sunaddicted]

Bliss (00q)

This is my fill for Prompt 78 for the (technically) Anonymous Prompt Exchange: @a-forger-and-a-point-man I loved writing this for you!

Bliss

Q walked quietly out on the balcony, squinting at the sunlight from behind his glasses - his prescription, with the passing of the years, had only made the lenses thicker - to put into proper focus the figure bathing in it: James was sitting at the small breakfast table, a pot of tea and a plate with a couple of slices of toasted bread sitting next to the newspaper the older man was frowning down at “You shouldn’t read that before midday, you know it will only upset you” Q pointed out with a smile, making his presence well-known before walking up to his husband and dropping a kiss to his hair.

“You’re right” James let out a sigh and flicked the newspaper closed before taking off his reading glasses; when he had started wearing them a decade or so ago, Q had taken revenge on all the teasing James had done in the past, calling him some truly cringeworthy pet names - four-eyed lover being on the top of the list - that in the end had managed to make James smile and had put him at ease about needing spectacles for reading.

Q nodded with a mischievous smile in place “Always am”

“Sure” James retorted, voice full of sarcasm and a big grin on his face as he turned around on the chair to look up at Q: his husband’s head was a riot of silver curls - he had gone grey early, everyone at MI6 had joked that it was the fault of all the scares he had given him during his career as a Double-Oh - and he still was wearing his fuzzy pyjamas that seemed to beg to be petted “My memory still works fine: I could list without a problem all the ways you definitely weren’t right just last week”

Q playfully swatted him on the shoulder, immediately prompting a loud mewl from Hades “Tart”

James chuckled “You’re just not used to not being the cat’s favourite” he teased, welcoming on his lap the black sphynx that Eve had gotten them from a rescue centre just a couple of years before.

When Pampuria and Turing had died, thankfully both of old age, Q hadn’t wanted another cat and James, despite finding himself missing the annoying balls of fluff, had complied to his husband’s wishes and hadn’t brought home any.

“True” Q hummed, bending down a little to caress the adorable wrinkles on Hades’ head; its skin, soft and slightly oily, felt like a balm on his dry hands “I’m not used to such friendly cats”

Both Pampuria and Turing had seeked out cuddles and attention, but not as much as Hades who followed them around the house and seemingly never wanted to spend a moment alone; after doing some reading, worried that such neediness stemmed from an abusive life with its past owner, Q had discovered that it was a completely normal character trait in the breed and slowly started to learn how to interact with such a different cat than the ones he had had in his life.

Hades waved its tail and sprawled all over James’ lap, exposing its pot belly much like a dog craving cuddles would do “You silly thing” the older man said fondly.

Q rolled his eyes but obliged and started petting the cat’s belly “We should give him a bath before going to the doctor”

James grimaced “Do we have to?”

Sometimes, Q thought that he had been dealing with a child all the time: after retirement, James hadn’t grown out of his dislike of doctors and he actively tried to avoid them even when age had made it necessary that he had frequent check ups “We need to get your prescription filled” Q reminded him gently, subtly spying the plate with his husband’s breakfast to check that his pill was there.

“Already took it” James reassured, both grateful for and exasperated by Q’s care. He nudged his plate closer to his husband in a silent invitation to take the last toast left “I’m full”

“You’ve been eating so little lately, are you sure you’re alright?”

James couldn’t help laughing at that, making Hades trill and purr in pure happiness “You’re adorable”

“What have I done know?”

“Remember when I was the one who used to worry about you not eating enough?”

“I was a strapping young man back then” Q pointed out, chuckling at the clearly sceptical expression on James’ face “Alright, maybe not strapping”

“Definitely not strapping” James concurred, teasingly “You were more like Hades, all soft”

“I didn’t have a pot belly!” Q protested, caressing said body part on their cat that, once it had heard its name being said, had excitedly pushed itself closer into his hands “Besides, not everyone can have abs their whole lives” he added with a sprinkle of envy: on the threshold of his seventies, while not as sharply defined as it had been when they had gotten together, James’ stomach was still hard and muscled.

“You love them”

“I really do” Q nodded, finally deciding to bite into the toast: if James said that he was full, then he wouldn’t force him to eat more but he promised himself to persuade his husband to get a little snack while they were out on their errands “We need to buy a bottle of something for dinner at Eve’s tonight”

James took over petting duty for Q, uncaring of the way Hades affectionately nipped at him from time to time “Do we know what she’s planning on cooking?”

Q shook his head “I don’t think she knows either”

***

“Mr. Bond, you’re 70” Doctor Granger sighed loudly, holding up in the air a cotton swab and a syringe with infinite patience; she was used to her patient being as cranky as a child, having had him in cure for almost fifteen years now, but she always was surprised about how quickly the man would start complaining: he had no shame at all.

“And the flu has never knocked me over so, I don’t see why I should start getting shots for it” James pointed out, resolutely crossing his arms so that the doctor couldn’t roll up the sleeve of his pullover and jab at him with the needle.

At the childish display of stubbornness, Doctor Granger arched an eyebrow “Do I need to call your husband in, Mr Bond?” She threatened; she had quickly learnt that if there was something the man disliked more than doctors, it was displeasing his husband and she unashamedly made use of that piece of knowledge to curb the other man’s attitude “You know I will”

James briefly glared at her, considering all his options before relenting and offering the evil woman an arm “You’re not going to tell him that I complained”

Doctor Granger mimicked sealing her mouth and tossing away the zip. When they finally emerged from the office a few minutes later and Mr. Gabriel Bond asked her whether his husband had behaved or not - he clearly knew the older man very well - she grinned widely “Like an angel”

***

“Here, sir. Sit down”

Q looked at the young boy standing up from his spot, clearly offering it to his husband, with dread: if there was something James loathed, it was youngsters treating him like an invalid - his words. Q had tried to make him see that they were just being nice, especially on the crowded tube.

James stiffened “No, thank you. I prefer to stand” he answered, repeating the words that a pissed Q had made him learn by heart after he had glared a young girl into sitting again into her damned seat.

At least he’d been polite, despite the murdering expression he had gotten on his face and Q rewarded him with a squeeze to his hand. Thankfully, the boy wasn’t one of those kids who endlessly insisted and sat back down after smiling at them.

Crisis averted.

***

Eve opened her arms and rushed to them on her heels - James thought that she would never give up on them, she would probably waltz to her grave in heels - only to promptly avoid their attempted hugs to bend down and free Hades from the carrier, so that she could hoist the cat in her arms and cuddle it against her chest “I missed you so much, you little thing!”

Q arched an eyebrow as he toed off his shoes and hang up his parka, doing the same with his husband’s coat as James followed suit and made himself comfortable “So glad to know that we are ranked below Hades in your affections”

“And to think that we even brought you wine” James sighed dramatically.

“Don’t be so grumpy, you two” Eve chided gently, walking into the kitchen while still holding Hades in her arms, cooing down at it when it excitedly chattered at her “I saw you not even two days ago”

While not officially retired, it had been in common accord between all the department heads and higher ups to let Q sensibly cut back on his hours, recognising that the once youngest Quartermaster in MI6 history had burnt himself out during the previous decades. Now, Q only went in three times a week to check on various projects and to personally tutor a couple of his minions who had been chosen for their brilliance and iron will as his possible successors; which meant that while James benefited from his husband’s company above anyone else, Q didn’t see Eve as often as he would have liked anymore - especially since she had become M.

James knew that Q missed her a lot; after years of seeing her on a daily basis, his husband still wasn’t used to spending considerably less time with his best friend. So, whenever he could, he schemed with Eve to get them together outside of work hours as much as possible

“We brought a white, is that alright?” Q asked, sitting down at the table at his usual seat while Eve worried about feeding Hades - the little wrinkly bugger ate more than all the three of them put together - while James peered into pots and pans.

“There’s ratatoille and steamed trout so, yes” Eve answered, playfully pushing James away with her hip “And red velvet for dessert for all the non diabetics” she added, teasingly.

“You bitch” James scowled fondly at her “We’ll see how you fare at my age”

*** When they slipped in bed, Hades had already claimed his usual spot between them, tail waving almost as if trying to tell them to hurry up for their snuggle.

James pulled his pyjamas on, long were past the days he could manage to sleep in the nude and not get cold, and slipped in bed while Q finished washing up; Hades burrowed deep in his side, purring at the feeling of soft flannel against its sensitive skin.

When Q finally reached them, James was almost asleep “Come here” he murmured.

The younger man eagerly followed his husband’s invitation, bending down to kiss his forehead “Good night, my love”

“Good night, Gabriel”

[takadasaiko]

Truth in the Lies: Time for That

FFN II AO3

Setting: 2.22 before Liz leaves the boat

Time for That

He shifted his weight, falling back against the bed on his side and lying there for a long moment, both of them a little short of breath and his eyes trained on her. She was beautiful and he still couldn't believe it. Every time he closed his eyes he though he'd open them again to find himself alone, either there on the boat or in an old warehouse or - even worse - still in Dresden where nothing had changed.

It had though. Everything had changed. Liz had chosen him. Knowing everything she knew about him, she chose him.

"What are you smiling about?" she teased, her voice a little raspy and Tom realized he was grinning like an idiot now.

"You."

Liz rolled her eyes and sat up, the sheets pulled around her and she squinted at the window. He followed her gaze. The sun was starting to go down. It was too late to set sail that evening, but it was too early to curl up and sleep. They'd be up halfway through the night, and he knew that from experience with her. That's why he tried not to be too disappointed as she started reaching for her clothes, frowning at the crumpled suit he'd tossed aside earlier that afternoon as she'd been busy leaving his clothes scattered across the floor. She was coming with him. They'd have time to lounge around in bed and just talk. He couldn't let himself cling to hard, no matter how much he wanted to. He wanted to hold her and tell her how much he'd missed her. How much he regretted ever screwing it up. He wanted to start being honest with her, completely honest, right then.

"You're still staring," Liz told him with knowing smirk and leaned back down, her loose hair tickling his cheek as she pressed a long kiss against his lips. He reached up, fingers tangling in it, and he felt her touch ghost over his bare shoulder before she broke the kiss, still hovering close enough that he could feel her breath on him as she spoke. "I'm going to go take a shower. Why don't you scrounge us something for dinner?"

"'Kay," he breathed, not bothering to open his eyes.

"You're going to get up, right? I'm not going to come back out and find you snoozing?"

A soft chuckle left him and dark blue eyes flickered open. He sat up a little, stealing another kiss. "I'll go make us dinner," he promised. He was pretty sure he had something he could throw together, even if it wasn't going to be some romantic meal like he would have prefered.

The corners of her lips tugged outward and there was that smile that reached her eyes that he'd missed so much. She kissed the tip of his nose. "You have anything I can wear? That blouse is kind of gross after the shootout."

"Yeah. Should be a few shirts in the drawer there," he offered, motioning to it. He turned to see Liz fixing her bra into place, moving to tug her slacks back on. "It's like, ten feet at most," he teased.

She shot him a withering look and he grinned. He started to sit up and reach for his own jeans as she disappeared into the tiny bathroom at the front and he heard the shower water start up. He shuffled his way past the little table, stooping to look through the cabinets for what he needed, and started to put together some pasta mixed with store-bought sauce and some bread with butter and garlic that he could put in the toaster oven. Definitely a far cry from a romantic dinner, but he at least thought he had a bottle of wine. That had to be worth something.

His mind was spinning as his hands moved, filling the pan full of water to soak the pasta and flipping the switch to the stove. They were really doing this. After everything, she was really leaving with him. They were getting away from Bud, from Reddington, and they were starting completely over. It was more than he'd dared hope for. They could sail down the coast line to Florida, maybe even around and into the Gulf. Beaches and sun and time. He could tell her everything. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he didn't want to hold anything back. No one had ever liked the man under the masks very well, but she did. She loved him, and that gave him hope. More than he'd dared to really have before.

"Hey," a soft voice called behind him and suddenly he felt arms wrapping around him from behind.

"Hey. I didn't even hear the shower shut off."

"Deep in thought?"

"Yeah."

"What about?"

"You. Us. I'm just…." Tom turned, and the corner of his lips quirked up at the sight of her in one of his button downs that he had had shoved in the drawer. That was it. Her slacks and blouse and jacket had been left and she was standing barefoot in only his shirt in his boat, and she knew exactly what that did to him by the mischievous glint in her eyes. It was playful and excited, two things that he hadn't seen cast in his direction in what felt like a very long time.

Before he knew it he was kissing her again, and her laugh rang in his ears as he picked her up off the ground, her legs wrapped around his waist and she leaned deeper into the kiss. This was everything.

"Your pot's boiling over," she whispered roughly when they broke for air.

"You still hungry?"

"I wish I wasn't."

Tom chuckled and set her down, turning to find she was right. He turned the burner down and it settled out as he moved to drain the water and replace it with the sauce. "We have time," he acknowledged, watching her out of the corner of his eye as she moved to take a seat at the table. "Right?"

"I want to go with you, Tom," she answered.

"You sure? I mean, just you and me and the ocean. I want you to be sure."

He glanced over to see her looking concerned this time. "Aren't you? I thought this was what you wanted."

"More than anything… as long as you do too."

That pulled a small smile from her. "I do. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. I..." He closed his eyes, steadying himself. "Liz, anything you want to know, just ask. I won't hide anything from you. I won't lie to you."

"I know, and there'll be time for that, but right now, I just want to enjoy it. Can we do that?"

He nodded, shoveling some of the pasta out on the plates and putting a piece of would-be garlic bread on each one. She teased him for it, and he loved every second of it. They talked as they ate, the ease of the conversation speaking of just how well they really did know each other. There had been a lot of lies and a lot half-truths, but deep down, she had known what was important. As the sun set outside and they put the plates in the sink, Liz pulling him back towards the bed, Tom told himself that they'd have time to iron things out. This time, he'd do it right.

Notes: I think this little one-shot was born out of something Tessa said over on Tumblr and really, really missing the Keens together right now. I think this week is the first episode Tom might be back in, but next week being more likely. I just need a really romantic moment with a kiss and sweet moment before the season ends. Is that too much to ask?