#It’s the season where men run outside in tiny little shorts and no shirt and I’m here for it 😜

[skinreflectsthesun]

.

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part V

Word Count: 2,005 Warnings: PTSD. Allusions to sex (it borders on the edge of smut but we should know by now I'm shit at that). Hint of a praise kink. Bit of marking kink. Death. Ben Affleck. Author's Note: The last few chapters have taken a lot out of me, I put a lot of my own experiences with PTSD and mental health into them. I tried to make this fluffy, I needed that comfort after a hard week and I feel lighter for it. As always, thank you so much for your kind words and loving this like I do.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

“Fuck you.” Benny stares straight into Tom’s eyes. "This is my fuck you money.” The held breaths are louder than gunshots, waiting for a reaction that doesn’t come.

Cold Camp Davis grunts a laugh, “We don’t have enough men to carry all this money so we might as well be warm.”

Benny giggles like a child as he grabs a strap, zippo clicking to ignition again.

The laughter that bubbles up is like a light, warmer than the thousands of dollars burning bright against his eyes.

Frankie, you might as well take your salary out on the front lawn and pour some kerosene on it.

He hears it so clearly in his head and in his heart, Leah teasing him for all the lights being on the first time he took her home.

Tom stands up, dumping an entire case down to tinder in the cold air.

Eight dates in and she’d already witnessed one of his attacks. It was the third date, he’d wanted to take her home that night. His body on hers for hours. Wanted to make breakfast the next morning, having already committed to memory the way she takes her coffee. Instead, she spent that night holding tightly to his hands as his panic crescendoed in the backseat of his car.

If it wasn’t then that he realized he loved her, it was in the way she turned to look at him when he quietly said,

The lights being on make me feel safe.

It wasn’t pity, like he’s used to. It wasn’t the look somebody gives a broken man with a broken mind and a broken soul. The only change he found in the already soft features was an understanding behind the dark eyes staring back at him.

This fire makes him feel safe now.

He’s always straining in the dark. It’s not just about watching his six. It’s all twelve hands on deck with two eyes and a ringing in his ears so intense he can feel it in his toes.

But here? It beats back against the edges of gloom that have continuously threatened to consume him.

He can sweep enclosed spaces in minutes, assess the situation and the danger within. It’s a lot harder in the extended wilds, nothing but the moon to guide the eye.

Before Leah—and for a while there after—he combed room for room upon his arrival home. He’d ask her to stay in the car, his conceal carry coming out as soon as the door would swing open.

He’d sheepishly grin, collecting her from the passenger side after his survey and she’d hug him. Holding tightly around his middle section, pressing her cold hands up under his shirt to that hot place where his heart beats and whisper with genuine gratitude,

Thank you for protecting me, Frankie.

It was never condescending, that’s all he ever wanted to do. Protect her. Protect himself. Protect the men giggling like schoolboys around him right now.

And he liked being told what a good job he did at that. —————

“What's Frankie short for?” Barely audible, her breath fanning across his chest as she continues to catch it. Like willing waves of normalcy in the aftermath of a hurricane.

“Francisco.”

“Francisco,” she repeats, dragging out the o. “Do you like it?”

“Used to make me feel like I was in trouble, very harsh coming from pissed off higher ups and even angrier parents but it sounds…” he thinks on that for a second, the events of the night still rippling through his body, “a lot sweeter in your mouth.”

“Watch yourself,” she hums a kiss into the flat plane of his breast before sinking her teeth into the flesh there, biting as hard as she can.

A chuckle vibrates from deep within him, “one hell of a bite too, I won’t soon forget.”

He looks down into her eyes, bright with mischief as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth now. He’d had hickeys before but never like this. He surveys the purple marks across his body, somehow burning brighter than the rest of him, and a contentedness pools in the pit of his stomach. Her stamps on him in easily hidden spaces to match the lipstick stains she’s started marking across his right cheek in the moments before they walk into the bar or the restaurant.

Little ways she says mine.

And he is hers. He knows it in the steady way his lungs rise and fall underneath her now.

He brushes a soft wave from where it tickles across her nose, “is Leah short for anything?”

Her nose scrunches, “not a goddamn thing.”

“Do you know what it means then?” His large hand is sprawled across her lower back, the weight of it an anchor.

Don’t leave me, it says.

“I don’t know,” she drawls, the slight twang coming forward in moments of exhaustion and inebriation, “just think my mama liked the sound of it is all.”

His heart is blazing underneath her cheek as she settles against him once more, her soft voice tumbles towards him, “Francisco…” as her eyelashes brush against his skin and he swears he can count them all on sensation alone.

“Yeah, baby?”

He feels a smile tug at her lips, stopped in its tracks where she’s rooted into him. It’s the first time he’s called her that.

“I have nightlights.”

The light makes her feel safe too. —————

He’s standing over Tom’s body and he hates to admit it but the feeling washing over him is one of relief.

Relief mingled with guilt.

Guilt that nobody was watching his six, his back wide open to the world behind it. Five seasoned fucking veterans and nobody watching the higher ground.

Relief at the silence he knows will engulf the group now. No more orders from a child who should’ve never been granted the lead to begin with.

Guilt because he was climbing up a fucking rock when he should’ve been doing his job as a friend and brother.

Relief that it wasn’t his brains splashed across stone.

His head is fucking pounding and it has been for days, pain dulled by consistency but never not there.

At least I can feel my fucking head.

He thinks of all the other things he can feel now, the things service beat from his body.

The ache in his limbs, heavy with exhaustion.

He’s dreading adding the dead weight of a dead body to the load.

The pang in his stomach, too used to consistently hot food.

He wants black coffee and bacon and tiny spoonfuls of sweet potato puree he airplanes into his own mouth to show Luna it won’t hurt her. Hell, he’d take the mushed peas right now.

Benny’s sobbing. The one amongst them all that never breaks is the broken one now.

He’s staring off again at everything and nothing, Santiago and Will unfurling bags for the body.

What a present to bring home.

It was always the risk they faced, they knew it.

If you were lucky, truly lucky, you came home whole. Untouched, unscathed, unmarred. The safe deployments, the technical shit, the brains behind the operations never seeing bloodshed. Everybody else though? Some were held together by duct tape and pure grit.

Others tied up in a flag with a bow.

Daddy’s not coming home but here’s a purple heart for the dress uniform he’ll never wear again.

I should’ve done more.

He’s not getting a purple heart for this.

I should’ve held on tighter.

He didn’t die in service to his country, he died in service to himself.

I should’ve made a bigger issue of the weight.

Another family he’s failed to protect.

I should’ve said no. —————

The darkness is cut through with a warm glow in every outlet as the clock tips over the edge of midnight.

Wednesday, the eleventh of October.

Nose to nose, the excitement of the day hangs over them like a wave threatening to crash. A giddiness in their bed forcing sleep to the edges of thought.

“Do you think they’re gonna know?” Her voice is soft, featherlight. Trying not to disturb the peaceful bubble they find themselves in now.

“No,” he lifts to press his lips gently into hers, “but I can’t promise I won’t shout it out on the altar.”

Panic takes her eyes, he knows it all too well and he’s gripping tighter before she can inhale. Fingers splayed across the small of her back, the weight of it a comfort to the tender bones and aching muscles.

I'm right here, it says.

“Breathe, breathe,” he’s speaking softly into her hair, “it was just a joke, baby.”

“You're not funny, Francisco Morales.” She speaks it like a fact, like she doesn’t spend hours in his arms filling his head with the music of her laughter. She says it like he isn’t watching smile lines appear in real time, falling more in love with each one.

“Would it be so bad though? If I did? If people knew?” It’s hope in his voice that she’ll say yes. That he can announce to his best friends all at once, every single one, before Santi leaves again. He doesn't want his happiness to arrive by text message. He wants to see the light of congratulation dancing around him.

“I don’t want to jinx it,” she’s scared, “besides… it’s not traditional.”

He scoffs, “what about us has ever been traditional, mi alma?”

“I'll make you a deal,” her fingers run through the stubble along his jaw, thumbs lingering over the patches, “don’t shave this tomorrow and you can tell the boys.”

“You want me to keep this malnourished shit on my face? For our wedding?”

Her giggles vibrate against him, “Yes. I have plans for it after you say I do.”

He growls, “this deal sounds pretty sweet to my lazy soul, what do you get out of it?”

“Hmm…” she brings her hand up to tap on her chin, “well, to begin, I’m getting a hot husba—”

“Debatable.”

“I'll fuck you up, Morales, take the compliment.”

He laughs a kiss into her, “what else?”

“Benny and Will will become automatic attack dogs around me, I’m fairly certain they will clear their schedules for all of April to stand guard outside the room. My own personal security team.”

He laughs again at the truth in her words, “what else?”

She pushes forward again, taking his lip between hers. A soft kiss with the burning desire for more.

“I’ll wake up on Thursday morning with a rawness between my legs that I’m usually only gifted on the weekends.”

His grip tightens, any suggestion of sleep leaving his body in a rush of blood straight through him, “I will never shave again.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time, my love.”

He rolls himself into her at that, kissing down her jaw. Her neck. The sensitive skin of her breasts, low lying cotton barely above indecency. He raises the hem, the curve of her belly burning hot against his lips, two hearts now beating inside her.

He grabs the elastic around her hips and gently pulls, kisses so soft across her pelvis they feign an innocence to his true intentions. Her legs kick out to help discard the fabric tangling her ankles as he settles broad shoulders at the base of her being.

Her fingers twirl through the soft curls that have been crushed against a pillow for hours by her side.

He kisses her soft thighs, slowly dragging his rough cheek against the delicate flesh.

“Francisco,” her fingers flex tighter as he looks up to meet her eyes, “don’t be such a fucking tease.”

He smiles wide, the devilish grin splitting his face as he drops his eyes to where she wants him, the fever that’s taken over her body in the last three months beckoning him in.

His hands are heavy on her hips, clenching deep purple into her. Marks in easily hidden spaces, his little ways of saying mine.

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23​ | @greeneyedblondie44​ | @icanbeyourjedi​ | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​ | @notcookiebelle​ | @knivesareout​ | @phoenixpascal​ | @lexi-b-writes​ | @empress-palpat1ne​ 

[childofhalloween]

A Story With No Name Aka Why You Don't Ask Idoits for Dating Advice

So this was a short little one shot I got an idea for after binging Graystillplays Sims videos for days. If the formatting or anything seems off it's because I wrote it all on a phone. Well this short one shot turned out 9 pages long opps. So I hope you enjoy. Also writing an Austrillis slow burn not really sure where it goes but if anyone is interested let me know. Anyways onto the show! Thomas Alan Wenis better known as Tommy looked down at the paper in his hand. This address had to be a mistake. He had just flown down to Florida to get away for a while, see the ocean, maybe even clear up his depression. He hadn't brought much with him just an old suitcase and what little money he drained from his savings account.

That was exactly what attracted him to the random message board offering low rent living. With the price of rent all Tommy was expecting was a cot in a closet somewhere. Not that he minded as long as he had a roof and somewhere to put his black boots he didn't care.

But this, this wasn't right. Couldn't be right. The place was huge. Probably the biggest house he had ever seen. 4 floors are least and he could see the corner a large pool in the back.

He checked the address of his contact Melvin, and it matched. This had to be some sort of scheme. He knew it was too good to be true, like everything else in his life.

With a sigh he picked up his bag walking to the front door. Maybe they would be able to at least point him in the right direction.

Ringing the bell he sat out on the front step for a moment before the large oak door opened and a man dressed only in a towel and some sneakers opened the door.

"Uhhh hi. I'm sorry to disturb you but I am looking for someone at this address. His name is Melvin." Tommy said avoiding eye contact with the red haired man.

"Yeah that's me! Melvin Eugene Johnston. But everyone just calls me Florida Man." He said holding out his hand Tommy awkwardly taking it. "You must be Tommy!"

"Uhhh yeah. I'm sorry did I come at a bad time?" He said motioning to the towel.

"Huh this? Nah. Just like to feel a cool breeze if you know what I mean." He joked opening the door motioning for him to come in.

The place was almost too much for Tommy to take in but nonetheless followed Florida Man on a tour around the house.

"I uhhh….I hate to say I think I miss understood about the price." Tommy said knowing their was no way he could ever afford a place like this.

"Oh don't stress about it. Just get me the $300 whenever. Everyone here is pretty cool. We all just pitch in when we can ya know? We all take turns cleaning and cooking….well except for Aussie. Fire department said they are gonna fine us for another kitchen fire." He said casually. Tommy couldn't help but wonder what he was getting into.

"Then toss in some cash for some beers or food when ya can. Everyone just kind of does their own thing. You will see all kinds of people come and go. Right now we got a lot of our 'lifers'."

"How can you afford this place?" Tommy said looking at another large staircase.

"Oh it's already paid for. I bought it with the money from my lawsuit with Madonna."

"You sued Madonna!?!" Tommy said, not believing what he was hearing.

“Oh yeah I did. Her show was supposed to start at 8 she didn't go on till 10. I wasted so much money on overpriced water down beer I don't even remember the damn thing. Next thing I know I'm in the hospital. Apparently I fell down 12 rows of concrete stairs trying to get some nachos from concessions." He said casually as he continued. "Then I used the money I won to buy this place but it got lonely & quiet by myself so I started renting out rooms. Made for one big odd family."

Opening a door he motioned to Tommy "So here's your room. Get comfortable. When you're done feel free to head on down to the kitchen, meet everyone."

Tommy had hoped he could even find his way back down to the kitchen. It was going to take a little while to get used to this place. He still couldn't wrap his mind around all of this.

But unbeknownst to him the craziest part was yet to come. His new roommates.

Finally finding the kitchen he saw Floridaman busy having a beer next to a tall man with the most epic red beard he'd ever seen and a smaller but seemingly louder blond wearing sunglasses. And behind them both a slightly deranged looking man with jet black hair.

They all seemed to get quiet as he walked awkwardly into the kitchen.

"I was wondering if you were going to find us." Florida Man said thrusting a Bud Lite in Tommy's hand not bothering to ask if he'd want one. "Boys this is our newest guest Tommy Wenis"

The blond let out an almost mocking laugh.

"Wenis!?! Ya gotta be bloody kiddin me. Bet that must have been a rough primary career. The names are just endless!"

"Don't listen to him, he can be a jerk but he doesn't really mean it." The redhead said standing up holding out his hand cordially. "Names Tim by the way."

"Ahhh I'm just taking the piss with ya mate...kinda. Name's Trevor but everyone here likes to call me Australian Man. Ya know obvious reasons."

Finally the dark hair man with the slightly odd shaped face spoke up. "And I'm Colono. Colono Scopy"

"Uh huh...so is this everyone who lives here?" Tommy said looking at the motley crew in front of him.

"No the girls are off doing something or another. I think they mentioned girls day. I don't know I wasn't listening." Florida Man said, looking at the clock on the stove. "But they should be back any minute."

As if on cue the door opened and the sound of over lapped talking was heard.

"Speak of the devil mate." Australian Man said slightly in awe of Florida Man's timing.

A brunette wearing what looked to be a thrift store tourist shirt walked into the kitchen.

"Hey Whitley come here meet our new roommate Tommy." Florida Man said.

"Hey I'm Whitley " she shook his hand. He couldn't help but notice the slight smell of cheap bottom shelf vodka radiating off her.

Next a woman walked in with the best blond afro Tommy had ever seen.

"Hey Bab this is our new roommate Tom-"

"Maybe he'll last longer then the others." Bab said almost miserably as she walked out the back door not stopping.

"Sorry she's kin-d of…." Florida Man tried to think of the word.

"Manic Depressive." The girl with blonde and pink braids said matter of factly. "Text book diagnosis really."

"Are you a Dr?" Tommy asked everyone just laughed.

"Not in the slightest. Just been through a lot of psychologists."

"Ellis Dee, meet Tommy." Florida Man introduced.

"Tommy Wenis." Australian Man said with a snicker.

"Oh my God do people call you Tiny Wenis?" Ellis said with a giggle.

It didn't matter though because all Tommy's attention was now focused on the tall blond with golden hair walking in. He had never seen anyone like her. She was like nothing he'd ever encountered. She was…..she was…..she was absolutely stunning.

"Whose that?" Tommy asked Tim quietly.

"Huh? Oh that's Beth. Be nice, she's a sweet girl." Tim whispered back.

"Hey Beth say hi to Tommy the new guy." Florida said.

"Hi name's Beth." She introduced herself in a thick Southern accent.

"I….uhh...I'm Tommy." Tommy managed to mumble out.

All the guys exchanged an odd look.

"So where are ya rollin in from?" She asked with a smile.

"....I uhhh… I come from….places. I gotta go." He said, scrambling out of the kitchen to his room.

"That was odd." Colono said all the others nodded.

As the months went on Tommy found he had more in common with this rag tag bunch then he ever had with anyone else. He spent his days joking with Colono, drinking beers with the Florida Man & Australian Man, discussing art with Bab Ross, hitting the occasional bong with Ellis Dee, and pretty much bonding with everyone.

Everyone that is except for Beth. It seemed like every time they had a moment together his mind just blanked. Like it shut down to nothing and he couldn't figure out what the hell to say so he would say something awkward and just excuse himself.

It became apparent to everyone what was going on, everyone that was except Beth as she walked into the living room one day.

"Mind if I sat by ya hun?" She asked. He looked up at her eyes wide.

"I….uhh….murder show…..its over…..here you go. For you." He said, tossing the remote at her feet before running out the room.

"Ouch that was painful to watch." Australian Man looked up from the card game the guys had been playing.

Tommy pulled out a chair and plopped down not responding.

"Hey man, it's0 ok you will get her next time." Florid Man said putting a hand on his shoulder sympathetically….well really trying to sneak a peek at Colono's cards

"Ughhh. It's like everytime I try to talk to her I look like a total ass." Tommy grumbled.

"Yah we know, we all seen it." Australian Man joked as threw another chip in the pot.

"Well what am I supposed to say? Hey I think you're gorgeous, will you have a coffee with me?" He said, causing all the other men to laugh.

"No, no. You're thinking too much into it. What women love to hear is compliments." Tim Horton said as Bab Ross happened to walk past. "Watch this."

"Hello Bab you are looking positively radiant today!" Tim said, putting on a charming smile.

"Whatever you say Tim." Bab said with a shrug as she kept walking.

This caused all the other men to crack up.

"Laugh all you want but she acknowledged me. That's progress."

"Nah ya got it all wrong mate. What birds really dig on is a badass." Australian Man said getting up walking to the back yard. "This is how it's done boys."

Strutting slightly he slid up to Ellis Dee who was sitting outside enjoying the sun.

"Hey Ellie." He said acting casual.

"Oh hey Aussie what's up?"

"Did I ever tell you about the time I fought off a whole colony of bog frogs?"

"No I don't think you have."

"Yeah I was out with some blokes and came across these wee little bog frogs must have been mating season or something because next thing I know I'm surrounded by the little wankers! So I start beating them off me. Kicking, punching them in their little frog faces. Just throwing them off left and right. Turns out the little bastards were poisonous. Woke up in the hospital 2 weeks later handcuffed to the hospital bed. Turns out those little piss frogs are on the 'endangered species' list. Luckily for me though the judge granted the coma as time served. All I got was probation and I'll be off that by next year." Australian Man said cooly before something hit him.

"Probation…..OH SHIT! My probation meeting!" He said looking down at his watch. "I'm 6 fucking months late! I can not be arrested again! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!" he said running into the house leaving behind a very confused Ellis Dee.

All the guys watched as Australian Man ran through the house screaming obscenities as he looked for his cell phone.

"Anyways….what about you Florida Man. How do you talk to the ladies?" Tim Horton asked.

Florida Man shrugged and got up walking to the kitchen to see Whitley at the table drinking a large glass of orange juice.

"Bud Lite?" Florida Man offered holding out a beer. She looked at him confused.

"Its only 11 not even noon. Too early for beer." she said.

"Ok." Florida Man said walking back with both beers.

"Mornings are for screwdrivers." Whitley said to herself pour more dollar vodka into her drink.

"No, no I am sure I called. Yeah right when I landed. No I made sure I message with a Shelly? Or maybe a Jan? Or was it a Steven? I'm not sure. Mighta been a new?.....oh maybe a temp! Bloody hard to find good help huh? I'm sure it's there just check the last few months. Ring when this is all cleared up." Australian Man said, hanging up his phone not waiting for a reply on the other end. "Bloody cunts..….so what'd I miss."

"That's it. That's the only move I got." Florida Man said with a shrug.

"You guys are hopeless. No wonder I'm the only one in a relationship." Colono complained before turning to Tommy. "Tommy don't listen to them they are all going to die alone."

"Hey!"

"Fuck ya too!

"That was rude….but true."

"Women, they love romance. You can sweep a woman off her feet just by words. Just watch my example gentlemen." Colono said as he sauntered out the door to Flo Cane who was watching tv.

"Oh there she is mi amor. I was looking everywhere for you." He said sliding next to her.

"What is it? On no! Are you having issues again? Is the burning back? Have you been taking your meds? Do I need to call the Dr for you again?"

"What!?! No! That's not it!" Colono said in a panic as the sound of laughter came from around the corner.

"Hey don't listen to them. You know stress makes it worse." Flo comforted.

"It's not that!" Colono said frustrated.

"Are you sure? I know how cranky you get when you forget to take your meds."

"I'm not cranky!" Colono yelled as he stormed off.

"I'm making you an appointment just to be sure! I know you are scared of making phone calls." She shouted after him as he stormed off.

The other guys were currently in a huge pile on the floor in total hysterics none of them were able to stand. It took almost 10mins for them to calm down to breathe.

Finally collecting himself Tommy stood up straightening out his clothes. After all that advice he had finally figured it out. He knew what he had to do. Mustering up all the courage he could he moved forward before he could chicken out.

"Where are you going?" Florida Man asked as Tommy made his way outside.

"I'm going to do what I need to." He said walking out into the back yard where the girls currently huddled together talking about how weird the morning had been.

"Hello ladies. Can I talk to Beth alone please?" He asked.

Suddenly a lot made sense as they gave each other a knowing look.

"She's all yours." Whitley said with a l knowing smirk.

Silence still overcame the 2 as they sat there totally obvious to the group of 8 peering around the corner.

"What did you want to talk about?" Beth asked looking over slightly confused about what had been going on. From what she heard it's been a very confusing day.

"I…..I…." He took a deep breath before blurting out quickly. "I think you're absolutely gorgeous and would you like to get coffee with me?"

It took Beth a moment to even figure out what he had said and then another for it to really register.

"You, you think I'm pretty?" She said shocked no one had said anything like that before.

"Gorgeous actually." He said his face was burning red. "Look if I offended you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Yes." She cut him off.

"Huh?"

"I would love to get coffee with you." She said as a big smile crossed her face.

"Ok when?"

"Now?" She suggested.

"Sounds great." He said getting up offering his hand to her. "I know a great place."

They both walked right past the group of the gawkers so invested in their conversation they didn't even seem to notice.

"Oh my God that is the sweetest thing I've ever seen!" Whitley gushed.

"Guys are never that romantic. She's so lucky." Flo said wistfully.

"Man I wish I could find someone who thinks like that." Ellis mused.

"Yeah it was pretty nice." Bab said in her bored Bab tone.

"Are ya fucking kidding me right now!?!" Australian said, throwing his hands up in the air as he stormed back inside.

"Seriously? That? That's it? Thats romantic?" Colono complained following behind.

"Wow guy did have some skills after all." Florida said patting Tim on the back sympathetically as Tim mumbled to himself annoyed.

"What's their problem?" Bab asked.

"Men are weird." Whitley said all the other girls nodded in agreement.

[korra-the-red-lion]

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 3: Rookie Hazing?

(Lyn)

My breathing fell into my familiar breathing pattern as I jogged through the town. The early morning sun was peeking through the clouds, trying to be seen. My music was blasting through my earbuds as I turned to go through the walking trail this morning.

Today was the first day of actual classes and practices. Me and a few of the others already have been to the pool a bunch this week, but this is when shit got real. After the disappointing loss to Turner University at last year’s AUS, Coach Jacob and team really wanted to get the title this year. It was one thing to lose, it was another thing all together to lose by 1 fucking point. Ugh, even just thinking about it pissed me off. Turner is a good school, don’t get me wrong. But man, we worked our assess off last year.

I passed by an older couple going out for their usual morning walk. I waved to them as I always do, earning a smile in return. I liked the coziness of this small town. Being able to see the same people every morning doing their routine as I did was relaxing and brought a sense of calm to my otherwise chaotic life.

I sprinted the final couple of kilometers home, slowing down as I approached the track around the football field. Loryn, Maddie, and Andrew where already there, chatting as they stretched for their early morning workout.

Loryn smiled when she saw me coming and tossed me my water bottle. I pulled out my music and took a huge swig from it. “Thanks, I really needed that,” I said. I lifted the end of my shirt and wiped the sweat and water off my face.

“No problem-o,” she responded. “How was your run?”

“Same as usual,” I said as I take another drink.

Andrew walked over and gave me a huge hug. “Ready for the season, Lyn?”

I nodded into his shoulder, holding onto his shirt. Andrew was the captain of the Men’s team, and he was like an older brother to me. This was his last year on the team, and I really wanted to win the championship for him and the other 4th years. They put so much into this program, and just one win would be an awesome reward for them.

“Please don’t cry, or I might start too,” he mumbled.

“Not crying,” I pulled away, grinning at him. “I’m just thinking of how lame the team’s gonna be once you finally retire from it. Are they gonna make Will the captain next year, because like, yeesh.”

This earned a laugh from Andrew. “Well, I frigging hope not. Y’all better vote for Oliver, or Thom. If Will gets the captain position next year, you’re all doomed.”

“Fuck me with a rusty screw if Will gets it,” said Maddie bitterly. “The only thing bigger than his ego is his Hummer. I swear, I will never get over his parents airlifting that thing across the fucking country.”

It’s not like we hated Will or anything, he just was a huge pain in the ass. Both his parents are doctors, and he makes a point of letting you know how much money he has. During his first year here, apparently, his parents had his Hummer helicoptered across the country so he could have it here. Not sure why he didn’t drive the damned thing instead, but the rich do very extreme and extravagant things to prove their wealth. Maddie is a 3rd year like Will, so she’s been putting up with his Will-ness longer than Loryn or I.

We did our usual morning workout routine, just to get used to the rhythm again. Medicine ball tosses to each other with an added squat. After that, 2 sets of 20 jackknifes, 2 sets of 25 crunches, and 2 sets of 1 minute plank. We did our wheelbarrow run across the football field, giggling like fools as we did. Andrew and Maddie beat me and Loryn by a fingertip. Loryn jokingly apologized for being too short, a running joke on the team.

After that, we headed to food hall. Loryn liked to make fun of me for calling it that, since it was technically called meal hall, but that’s where I get all my food, not just meals. Hence, food hall. Still, she immediately started teasing me as we got near it.

The hall was abuzz with all the new frosh and returning students talking about their classes. It was nice to see this place so lively after being essentially dead for the week. I could already hear people talking about going to First Class Bash, the big first party of the year. I never really went to those often, parties that is, since the team had a drinking ban in place as soon as the season started. Maybe if some of the guys on the team wanted to go I would, but I was just as happy to stay in with the goofballs and have our own get together.

Oh shit, speaking of. The rookie party was this weekend, actually. It almost slipped my mind. Today was their official first day. It may sound weird, but Coach Jacob liked having them come for their own practice to get used to each other and the facilities first. That way, if they don’t feel like sticking around, there’s none of that awkward shame of seeing your ex-teammates on campus. Not that anyone actually gave a shit.

I sat down next to Matt and Kerry, two members of the team. They were nearly identical twins, but with different body builds since they swam different strokes. Matt was bulkier in his shoulders and trunk cuz he swam butterfly like I did, while Kerry was leaner but a bit bowlegged from swimming breaststroke for so many years. Kerry was letting her hair grow out after shaving it last year, and it was tied up in this stupidly adorable tiny ponytail, while Matt had shaved his hair into practical buzzcut. Kerry leaned over once I was settled and pointed.

“Did you see?”

“Did I see what?” I asked as I shoved the whole fried egg into my mouth.

“Derek is sitting with Poppy.”

I rolled my eyes. Derek Freeman was one of my exes from last year. Lyn from first year got a little crazy when it came to dating, and I ended up going through 6 different people before finally calling it quits. Derek was one of them, but he was by far the worse. He got super possessive and couldn’t understand why I dumped his creepy ass. He always knew my schedule and followed me everywhere. He would wait for me outside the pool and walk back to my res with me, which would have been super sweet if he didn’t ask to come inside every single time. Even after we broke up, he still followed me places. Eventually he got the message once I started dating Willa Hoffman, but man was he annoying.

Then there was Poppy. There was nothing wrong with her, per se. We just were partners on a project last year and she nearly cost me getting an A+ in Intro to Sociology, much to my annoyance. I cared a lot, maybe a little bit too much, about my grades. So, yeah, there’s nothing that really pisses me off more when you get stuck with a shit partner for a project.

“Honestly, Ker, I don’t care,” I said. “Hell, they deserve each other IMO.”

Kerry shrugged as she got back into her seat properly, finally letting Matt get back to eating. We ate in comfortable silence before Matt spoke up.

“Gunner is on probation.”

I dropped my fork in confusion. Even Kerry looked confused. “What do you mean, Matt?” I asked, leaning against the table as I did, locking eyes with him.

He sighed and ran a hand over his head. “Okay, don’t tell anyone because I’m not supposed to know, but Gunner was caught doing drugs this summer. Like, coke. Anyway, Jacob heard about it and helped him through rehab and stuff, but the dean put him on probation until his grades and attitude prove that he actually got clean.”

“Shiiiiiiit,” I pushed my tray away. Leo Gunner was the best sprinter on the team, leading the Men’s team to having great scores in the relay last year. If he wasn’t allowed to swim this season, we might be in serious trouble. There was no one as fast as him. The next best would be Parker, and even then, he wasn’t near Gunner’s level.

“Oh, that’s awful,” said Kerry, putting her hand over her mouth.

Matt nodded. “Yeah, it’s shit for sure. I talked to him this morning and apparently, he’s allowed to practice, but he might not be allowed to sign up for the meets. I think Jacob might bring it up to Andrew and Emma today, but he might not let the rest of the team know just yet.”

The information sat heavy in my stomach. I walked all the way to my class with my mind racing, wondering if there was any way we could fight this decision. All conclusions came to a resounding no. The university was pretty strict about athletes using illegal substances. They only thing that probably saved his ass was that it happened this summer.

I took my usual spot near the front, waiting for the rest of the students to fill in. This was a second-year history course, and I really wanted to be psyched for it, considering history was my favourite subject, but it was hard when I was worrying about things out of my control.

“Mind if I sit?”

I looked over and nearly groaned when I saw it was Will. I nodded, but he was already taking the seat anyway. I hated sitting next to Will, he just sat on Instagram the whole time, or TikTok. Fuck my life right now.

He reached over and tugged on my ear. “Why the long face, Lyn?”

I batted his hand away. He knew I was self-conscious of how big my ears were, and he liked to pick at that at any opportunity. “No long face here, Will.” I forced a grin onto my face before turning my attention back to my desk.

“Whatever you say.”

Ugh, def getting a new seat on Thursday. I can’t deal sitting next to him and dealing with his antics at practice too. There was only so much abuse one gal could take for the day.

XXX

Thank God it was Friday!

I managed my schedule perfectly, so I had no classes on Friday. It made the other days more miserable for sure, but having a three-day weekend every week? Exactly what I needed to stay on top of things this year. Just practice in the afternoon, and I was free to enjoy myself. The rookie party was tomorrow, and they were a good batch. Loryn’s younger sister Robin joined the team this year, which was super exciting for her.

I got to enjoy breakfast without having to rush it, plus no homework was assigned this week. Today was a nice one, and I was looking forward to just being able to chill and enjoy it. As I left, I happened to notice that Ally was leaving the food hall. Grinning, I raced over to where she was.

“Hey, Ally!” I fell into step beside her.

“Lyn!” Ally looked up at me, a smile breaking out. She had her hair in this half up pinned style, it looked really good on her. Also, she was wearing different glasses today. She usually wore some rectangle ones, but these ones were like a half moon shape.

“How’s your first week, frosh?” I asked.

“Well, after the disaster that was the bookstore incident…” she looked down, thinking about something before shaking her head. “It’s been lovely. I think once I get into a nice routine, I won’t feel as anxious.”

I was curious about the whole bookstore thing, but I respected that she clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it openly with me. Fair enough, we only just met last week, and I barely have seen her since.

“Hey, well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself so far! Is it cool if I walk with you until your next class? I’m free.”

“Oh,” she smiled shyly at me, “that would be really nice, actually.”

I smiled back. We chatted about her classes all the way to Bennet, where her class was. I leaned against the wall as she finished explaining something about her drama class. That was a class I took in first year, but it sounds like she has Professor Kinkly, whereas I had Professor Statton. Kinkly was more by the book, Statton was know as the campus kook. I had a feeling Ally was gonna like Kinkly more.

“I guess I should head in, huh?”

“I guess you should. But hey,” I said, “we should totally hang this weekend, you know? Whatcha doing tomorrow?”

Ally looked contemplative before shaking her head. “Nothing, I think.”

“Perfect! Let’s grab a bite to eat, and you can finish telling me all about your week.”

“O-okay, sounds great!”

Ally wished me a goodbye and dashed inside, as to not be late for class. I watched her go before snorting under my breath. I liked her, she was smart and funny. It would be nice to have someone as a friend outside the team. Guess it was just my lucky day when she approached that table I forced Loryn to help me set up.  

Feeling great, I practically skipped all the way back to my res.

XXX

The smell of chlorine was something that was never going to get old. It calmed me when nothing else could. I know that sounds a little dramatic, but the pool is my second home. Didn’t matter how I felt at home or school or whatever, I could come to a pool and swim those thoughts and troubles away.

We finished with our pre-practice routines, and I jumped into the pool, shivering a little as the cold water enveloped my body. Right away everything felt amazing. Reach, pull, reach, pull. The easy lazy rhythm of the warmup let my thoughts drift away. It was nearing the end of the warmup when I caught Andrew’s eye underwater during my turn, and we ended up racing our last 25 meters. He beat me and we high fived as I hung onto the lane rope.

Coach Jacob laughed as the others finished their warmups. He was a retired swimmer himself and did things to keep himself in shape. He had one of those kind faces that really made you feel welcomed. Sure, he could be a hard ass, but he just really wanted win, like we all did.

He read practice off the board for us, and we did as was instructed. In in a blink of an eye, practice was over, and we were all hauling our asses out of the pool. Practice wasn’t too hard today, but since it’s been a while since any of us had structure like that, we all felt the ache of the week catching up with us finally.

“Okay, gather ‘round!” Coach Jacob called out. We all headed towards the bench and took seats. Loryn sat next to me and we cuddled, trying to not freeze as we listened to what he had to say.

“So, this is the last year for some of us,” he indicated the 4th years with a nod, “and a new beginning for others,” a nod to the 1st years. “However, the goal is the same. We wanna be number one at AUS’s this year. We wanna send people to CIS’s this year. We wanna kick Turner’s stupid butt all over the pool deck. We start morning practice next week, 5:30 sharp, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Gym time is 6:00 on Tuesday and Thursday. We have our usual afternoon practice at 4:30 every day. If you can’t make practice, the reason better be fucking good. Rookies, never be afraid to ask questions. These guys are your family while you’re here, and like family, sometimes we don’t always get along. But try your best to stay pleasant with the others. Lastly, welcome to the Mount Seamus Wolves!” he finished with a huge grin. We clapped and headed into the locker rooms, where a hot shower was calling my name.

“Man, I am looking forward to the weekend!” Loryn said with a huge stretch as we grabbed our shampoo and conditioner.

“Me too,” I said with a grin. “I already made plans.”

“Oh my God, shut up! Who with?”

“That cute frosh from last week.”

Loryn scrunched up her face in thought. “Gabriel or the brunette you showed around?”

I laughed, hitting her playfully with my towel. “Dude, you’re the only one who thinks Gabe is cute, you know?”

“Not true! I know Jackie does too!”

“Damn right I do!” Jackie said, walking by us with a laugh.

We all laughed as we turned the water on. It felt great to take a hot shower after practice. We were gossiping about people on campus when I noticed something strange.

“Emma, are you okay?”

Emma, the captain for the Women’s team, looked over. “Huh, why you ask?”

I blinked. “Because you’re covered in…blood?”

She looked up and shrieked. Sure enough, something red and gooey was coming from the shower head. Actually, it was coming from all the showers! We all screamed and ran out, not even bothering to turn them off.

“What the actual fuck?” Emma was shaking with either anger or fear, wasn’t sure which it was. “Did someone think it would be funny to prank the rookies or something?” She whipped around to glare at all of us.

When no one fessed up, she growled in annoyance. “Okay, maybe one of the guys thought it would funny? Whoever did this, it’s seriously fucked up. Getting sprayed with fake blood is not how I wanted to end my Friday night!”

“Uh, not to be that person, Emma,” I said hesitantly, “but if it was fake blood…wouldn’t it have stopped by now?” I pointed over to the running showers, where a steady stream of red was still coming out.

Emma’s face paled. She looked at her hands, where the blood was and sniffed it. “Oh my God…it smells like copper.”

That’s when Jackie threw up all over the floor and Kerry burst into tears.

XXX

I was in my room, curled up under all the blankets I could possibly be curled under. We texted the boys after, to see if something similar happened to them. When Andrew and Matt both responded no, we got even more freaked out. We ended up calling campus security for them to see if there was something they could do about it. They said they would look into and escorted us back to our residences. I took such a scalding hot shower that I was still pink from it, but I still didn’t feel clean.

The group chat was blowing up with questions. The poor rookies were understandably upset. They thought someone was trying to haze them, but that wasn’t the case at all. Hazing wasn’t something we did anymore. They didn’t do it in my first year, and Emma said that her class was the last one that got hazed.

I didn’t have the energy to be dealing with this, so I muted the chat for the time being. Nura was sitting on her bed, her eyes on her computer screen but I could see her looking at me from time to time. I mean, I would be too. If Nura came back and told me that she just ended up taking a blood shower, I would be fucking concerned too.

I rolled over and tugged at my ear. It was habit of mine when I was anxious about something, and I was definitely anxious about this. If it turned out to be a stupid prank from one of the other teams, that would be one thing. But if it wasn’t…then what did it mean?

I had this crazy thought, pulling my phone up to my face. I wanted to see if it happened any time else. I did a quick Google search, and found out that this wasn’t the first time that something like this happened at this school. It was in 1968, and in 1995, and again in 2007. Okay, that was interesting.

Okay, so unless someone was dumping bodies into a water reservoir that only affected the women’s locker room, something freaky was going on. I’m not that big into that spiritual mumbo jumbo, but I’m not going to deny that this was more than a coincidence. However, it was history, something I specialized in. If I could trace back and see if there were any more connections, maybe I can establish a pattern.

That was a problem for Lyn of tomorrow, however. I was thoroughly exhausted after tonight’s events. I bookmarked the page on my phone, just so I wouldn’t forget. I was going to need my laptop for this.

I just hoped I could find something that can explain what the hell happened.

[di-kut]

Summary: A short Oberyn drabble which kind of popped into my head today. I’ve been thinking about Oberyn and his daughter Elia and how the ghost of his dead sister would haunt them both. Set shortly after Elia is born. 

Words: 1.1K

The storm hits late in the wet season, the screens drawn over the open windows rattle against stone and wind. The household closed against the blackened sky. Makes sunspear a percussion of wood and thunder. Ringing in Oberyn’s ears and keeping him from sleep. Pouring over the same parchment leaves again and again, but the distraction does nothing. Leaves him hollow and tired, agitated at the lack of occupation. Ellaria sleeps soundly against the pounding of the rain, a cup still half full next to her bed. A drink he had started with her, finished hours ago, finished the bottle hours ago. Dawn would break the sky soon, if it could break the clouds, but the storm rages strong and wild.

He hears the crying from the other room, a small space off the edges of his space with Ellaria. The small child screaming in the night, almost drowned in thunder. And at first, for an awful moment, he cannot rouse himself to move. Stares at the rim of dark red wine at the bottom of his cup and wishes he were somewhere else. But Ellaria starts to roll and he pushes away from his table, still wearing his boots, still wearing his undershirt and trousers. He bends to kiss Ellaria as he passes her, a brush of his lips against her bare shoulder. She sighs softly and sinks into the blankets, reaches a hand back to find his and mumbles sleepily about the crying child. Begins to roll again.

“I will get her, my love,” he whispers and brushes his lips again against her temple. “Sleep.”

Elia is still crying, has rolled herself so tightly in her blankets that her arm is slinged to her chest and her leg bent. Oberyn shushes her as he walks, light steps against stone, like a ghost. Like the ghost living in his youngest daughter’s flesh, in her blood, in her dark curls. Of another Martell princess now lost. It takes him longer than it should to detangle her tiny limbs from the trappings of her covers. But even as he unwinds them he feels the tangle of pain curled around his heart begin to tighten like a noose. Around his heart, around his lungs. But untangling Elia does not stop her crying. Neither does his finger soft against her wet cheek, trying to soothe. Another clap of thunder makes her sobs so high they are only hiccups against the thick storm air. A flash of lightning tricks him to thinking he can see his sister there, in the crib, in his memory. He can’t – would have been too young to remember her at the age his daughter is now. Only a few months. Barely born himself.

He lifts Elia slowly, carefully. She is a strong baby, firm and real in his arms, and he reminds himself she is no ghost. That it is not she who carries the tricks of the past, but him. And he tells himself he will not drown her in them.

She quiets against his chest, the wetness of her tears against his neck. Smells the softness of her curls when he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. Brushes his hand against them. Something precious and warm over his heart. Does his best to feel it through the pain and the strangling past gripping it. He begins to bounce her lightly, the memory of how to be a father easy, natural. Takes over him without choice or decision. Oberyn kisses his daughters head again.

“I am here, little Elia.” He paces away from the crib, towards the window. Away again when the clashing of the shutters makes her cry. “I am here to protect you. I won’t let anything hurt you. Not even the Gods.”

He walks to boundary of the room over and over to the sound of the waves against stone, against thunder, until he thinks he can feel the give of the stones wearing away beneath him. A deepening path turning the crib in the middle of the room into an island. And then he turns from the room into the empty corridors outside. The space made eerie by flashing and by emptiness and the cool. Unfamiliar in the heat of Dorne.

He winds with Elia tucked to his chest, her cries now stuttered breaths. Her tiny hand making permanent creases into his shirt. Her other hand wrapped around the gold chain at his neck. Tugging it so that the links bite into the skin at the back of his neck. Help to ground him, to pull him back into his body and away from the place he imagines his sister. Away from the way he imagines Lannister men finding what was left of her body, of her children. Forces him to remember the living child in his arms. He presses another kiss to her head. Breathes her in again, soft and warm and something almost sour. The smell of all children.

He finds his way into a deeper part of the old palace, in the winding parts which were built into the cliffs. The stone changing from sand to red like blood in the clay earth. To sand again. The air is cooler in the belly of the palace. Fresh and tart with the smell of the freshwater springs running to meet the ocean over the rocks. He thinks of playing there with his sister as a child, of her careful instructions over the slippery surfaces, showing him how to cup his hands to drink from the stream. Of Doran, sometimes with them, carrying Oberyn out when he had fallen and scraped his knee. He wonders if his own children had discovered the caves, if his daughters scramble over the rocks as well. Oberyn murmurs as he picks a path on the dry sandstone and thinks that his daughter in his arms if the only Elia he will ever share the caves with again. He tells her the way to find a safe rock to step on, where to spot the shine of moss on the rough surfaces. She is too young to listen and to know of stepping stones. But it comforts him, like a tradition passed on.

He winds, down and down and down, until his boots are against sand. The caverns beneath the palace leading so far into the cliffs they come out in a small cove, hidden by rocky walls on all sides. In high tide filled almost to the top with seawater, rushing in from the ocean. But now the tide is low and he stands in the mouth of the cave, the ocean swallowed before him by storm, by endless night. He stands against the edge of Dorne and watches the world in its anger, fire flashing in the night sky. His daughter cradled to his chest, safe and small in his arms.

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[sapereaude-habemut]

It is confusing.

You were born only two years and four months after I was. I do not remember life without you. Our brother was born only fifteen months after that. I barely remember life without him either.

I had very little time to have “girl” toys. By the time I was four I was sharing a room in a tiny house with my two little brothers. The “girliest” toys I had were horse figurines--but before you two started getting superhero action figures and little green army men, you had animal toys too, so what’s the difference? Even when I got Barbies and dolls, they would play in the same world as your amy men, they would also fight and explore, because I always played with you two. Most of our time was spent outside though. Our house was so tiny, our backyard so big. We rode bikes, we dug in the mud, we built little houses out of sticks and rocks. We played our imaginary game, where we were knights on a quest, explorers of a new world, we fought with sticks, we got dirty, scraped our knees. My upbringing was far more stereotypically “boyish” than “girlish.” Except for, well, everything aside from that.

I watched you and our other brother pee on trees in the backyard, our parents would laugh as you freely, laughingly had contests to see whose pee stream could reach higher. It was “cute” it was “funny.” It was something men did. Meanwhile, for me, using the bathroom was secretive, it was hidden. It was something never talked about. Vagina was a word uttered only in whispers.

I grew up watching you and our brother run around without shirts on, in our backyard, in our house on snowdays when we came inside to hot chocolate so you would not stain your shirts. At the beach, the pool, family and neighborhood barbecues--freely, without a second thought. Everyone accepted it. Meanwhile, I had been taught that it was inappropriate for a girl to not wear her shirt around other people at such a young age that I do not have a memory of thinking it was okay. At such a young age I could not yet understand WHY it was not okay. For my entire living memory, I have just known my torso was something that had to be hidden, to be ashamed of. 

Long before I had anything on my body that could make not wearing a shirt, or certain clothes “inappropriate,” I was chastised if I tried to leave the house in a shirt or pants too tight, a skirt or shorts too short, the neckline too low--anything really. My body, for my whole life, has always been something I just knew had to be hidden. While you and our brother ran around freely, peeing on trees, without shirts on, like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

I changed diapers. So many diapers. When our brother was born and I was only four, I was taught to change his diapers. I changed so many of our sisters’ diapers. You changed none. I was always the mother's helper, I was expected to be. I changed the diapers, I babysat for the first time at eleven years old, over you, our other brother, and both our sisters, one of whom was a new born. I was the eldest sister, I was a woman, I was mother’s helper. It was expected. I continued to babysit until I left for college, despite the fact that you and our brother were far older than I was when I first began watching all of you. I would cancel plans and miss out when I was seventeen in highschool to “babysit”--while you, fifteen years old, got to sit around, play video games, watch television, read. When our mother was sad, tired, overwhelmed, busy--I cooked dinner, I set the table, I cleaned up dinner and loaded the dishwasher. I bathed our sisters, and sang them to sleep. You and our brother were never asked to do anything. You were never expected to do anything. It was all woman’s work. 

On the holidays, I was always sent to the kitchen to “help the other women”--to help our mother, grandmother, and aunts, cook, bring out dishes, set the tables, and clean up. As the men in the family at around the table, or on couches, laughing and talking, and you and our brother played, or when you got older, joined in on the laughing and talking. I served you. I cleaned up after you. Because I am a woman. 

I grew up watching you and our brother be “gross”, get dirty, play rough. Sit however you wanted. But when I joined in, when I got dirty, when I shoved one of you too hard, when I sat, somehow, incorrectly, I was scolded and told it was not “lady-like.”

My whole high school career our relatives unceasingly asked me when I would bring a boyfriend home. Despite the fact that I was a three season varsity athlete, the captain of the track team my junior and senior years, despite the fact that I was top of my class, despite the fact that I took every AP exam I could, passed nearly all of them with perfect 5′s, was going to college on a scholarship with nearly a full semester of college credits. You and our other brother got commended for being smart, but if you acted up, it was brushed off with my grandpa, our uncles saying “ah well, you take after me--boys will be boys.” You were never asked about bringing a girl home. But if you brought it up, you got a pat on the shoulder and an “atta boy.”

My whole upbringing was being forced to grow up too quickly to help cook for everyone, help clean up after everyone, do everyone’s laundry, take care of all of you. While you got to play. My whole upbringing was being taught to hide my body, that it was somehow inappropriate, shameful. While you got to run about freely, your bodies unencumbered by shame.

When I was fifteen, a grown man told me I had “child-bearing hips.” Horrified, I told my mother, and she just said sadly, but shruggingly, “You get that from my side.” When I was sixteen, playing volleyball, a senior from another school said he would like to “pipe” me. I have been grabbed, jeered at, sexually assaulted. At a family barbecue the summer after my freshman year of college, an older male relative who had not seen me since I was a child said “damn she’s an Amazon” as I tried to toss around the football with you and our other brother. I was uncomfortable. I have always had to deal with being uncomfortable. You never felt as though you did not have ownership over your body, as though your own body endangered you. As though your flesh somehow made you more vulnerable, but also more shameful, weaker, but giving me these great burdens of “womanhood.”

And it was not even like, as our mother tries to argue, that maybe this is why you were so adverse to sports, why it was so burdensome to have expectations of athleticism on you. I was more athletic than both you and our brother, I played more sports than both of you, I was better at more sports than both of you, I enjoyed sports more than both of you. One of our sisters is also far more athletic than both of you. 

It also was not, as our mother also tries to say, our father’s hyper-traditional ideals of masculinity and feminity that drove you to this, or made you hide it. Because I was not always feminine. I worked mucking stalls, doing manual labor all summer. I more often than not wore athletic clothes, rarely wore makeup. Both me and our sister went through long “tomboy” stages, where we wore clothes from the boy’s department. Where we cut our hair short. We were permitted to do that. Our brother, our athletic, funny, “ladies’ man” of a brother, loves fashion. He loves to style outfits, to wear brightly colored or pastel floral button down shirts, pair them with patterned ties, he loves well fitted pants, fancy shoes, likes to make sure his socks go with his outfit, but also “pop” so when he sits and his pants reveal them, they are stylish too. He likes to wear his hair longer so he can style it. He was permitted to do that. He wears pink ties, he wears cologne, he cares about his skin. Our father and grandfather may joke, but in a good-natured way saying “well he’s never had trouble with the ladies, so maybe *we’re* doing something wrong.” It was not that.

So what was it? When you tell me you could not imagine not transitioning, not being a woman? What do you mean? What is this woman you speak of? 

The first time I saw you after you announced you were transitioning, you were wearing a black choker, and off the shoulder top revealing a pink strappy sports bra, your nails were painted black. Is that what you think it means to “feel” more like a woman? Painted nails, trashy jewelry, and cutesy flashes of undergarments? Is it breasts? What is it? 

This is not the womanness I was burdened with.

You received every single privilege of being a male in a very traditional, Catholic, Italian family. You never tried to take on any of the burdens I was forced to bear because it was my “role as a woman.” You took advantage of all of it. Your entire life. 

[foxsstoriesarchive]

|| The Main Muses ||

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Name: Nox Hethaway Age: 25 (May 5th 1995) Immortal - Stopped aging at 21 Nickname: Nox Gender: Female Sexuality: Straight Height: 5ft'4 Race: Demon/Succubus Ethnicity: British Looks: Short, messy raven hair falling into her right eye, Nox had the unique gift of having intense violet eyes that seemed to slightly shift in colour like the shimmering of liquid gold. The raven female mainly wears black, with articles of purple to accent her look. Whether it's a waterfall black cardigan with a purple tank top underneath which tends to be her signature look, or perhaps a purple plaid shirt, it seems that she truly favours darker shades of the spectrum that make up her 'aesthetic'. She might be seen wearing little red accents, due to her little crush for the colour.A purple, four leaf clover necklace hangs from her neck at all times, quite the important keepsake that she made with her own hands, and she has one ear pierced with a silver four leaf clover. Has the looks of a 21 year old. Key Personality Characteristics: Relaxed, Flirty, Sassy, Fiery, Enigmatic, Intuitive, Curious, Clever, Mature, Observant, Playful, Neutral, Thoughtful, Good Natured, Sympathetic, Faithful. About: Nox hadn't had the easiest of youths, and due to that case, in her younger days she was seen as a rather lazy and sassy female whom tended to throw insults at people, as well as ignore much of the population around her. However after certain events when she was eighteen, the female grew up to be a lot more mature and understanding to the situations around her. Perhaps whatever has happened, allowed her to open up to everything around her more? Nox is the type of a person that allows curiosity to get the best of her, yet she can be a delightful person to talk to at times. Having studied photography in University, Nox has a fairly keen eye to detail, seeming to pay attention to those around her more than the usual Joe. She can show a strong interest in things that catch her eye or amuse her, and her favourite past-time is playing her guitar. If you're a good listener and fascinated with life, it is very likely that Nox will take quite the liking in you. Likes/Interests: Night, Purple, Violets, Cats, Moon, Stars, Sky, Sunsets, Fire, Fireplaces, Music, Guitar, Hot Chocolate, Philosophy, Cafes, Streets, Photography, Darkness, Crows, Ravens, Streets, Heights, Cinnamon, Napping. Weaknesses: Cold! Nox can get very ill when in prolonged contact with cold, and any sort of frozen things, whether ice, icecream, or something like snow can cause her to get a fatal fever that can be difficult for her to get better from. Demons are known for their higher body temperatures, so imagine what happens when one goes into a feverish state! Suitable/Preferred partners: Angels, Fallens, Fair Folk, Vampires, Demons, Shapeshifters. Pets: N/A. Aesthetic Blog: https://noxhethaway.tumblr.com/ Faceclaim: (c) Lord Kevins, Josefine Jonsson Bandclaim: The XX Voice claim: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCKWly00BHM

Name: Charlavail Harelwood Age: 19 Appearance wise, 1,987-ish in reality. Nickname: Charlie, Charla, Char, Carla Gender: Female Sexuality: Straight Height: 5ft Race: Fallen Angel Ethnicity: British Looks: With her long, beautiful white hair and stormy grey eyes, Charlie can oftentimes be seen in a light blue shirt that's covered in stains of paint due to spending a lot of her time, well- Painting, alongside her white jeans. Sometimes a black cardigan can be covering the shirt, or perhaps she's wearing a hoodie with jeans when not in her usual, 'casual' painting clothes. One of her ears is pierced, and a silver feather earring tends to decorate it. Key Personality Characteristics: Stubborn, Violent, Sassy, Angry, Fierce, Firecracker, Bashful, Demolishing, Irritable, Sullen, Creative, Capable, Colourful, Blunt, Quirky with a sprinkle of sweetness. About: You'd think with age comes maturity, right? Wrong. Charlavail is a spitfire that can surprise most with her vivid personality. She used to be a lot more violent when she was younger, her stubborn streak really affecting how she treated those around her, however over a certain amount of time she began to learn to control her emotions at least to the point where things weren't always flying in the air whenever someone said something she didn't like. She's a pretty touchy girl when it comes to people mentioning her height, and it is rather likely that she will cuss you out if you're not careful, but it's kind of her charm, no? However don't let her fool you, she might be a fierce female but she has her own sweet side, if one gives her the chance to open up to them. Careful though, that's not an easy thing to achieve and it takes quite the mighty patience and steady hand to get to that point with her. It's worth it in the long run, though. Likes: Art, Paint,  Art Supplies, Studios, White Roses, Paint brushes, Feathers, Spring, Winter, Blue, White, Pink Milk, Pastel, Skies, Clouds, Stars, Forget-me-nots, Colours, Paris, Afternoons, Creativity, Dogs.    Suitable/Preferred partners: Angels, Fallens, Demons, Werewolves, Pets: A white cat called Halle. Aesthetic Blog: https://charlavailharelwood.tumblr.com/ Faceclaim: (c) Charlavail Effron Bandclaim: Phoenix Wolfgang Amadeus Voice claim: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qePo_r1KXhQ

Name: 'Kassidy' Kassandrea Smith Age: 23 [Immortal] Nickname: Kass Gender: Female Sexuality: Bisexual Height: 5ft'5 Race: Fox Shapeshifter/Goddess Ethnicity: British Looks: A very skater-girl style, Kass loves plaid shirts of all sorts and shades. Her long, dark red hair often covers one of her eyes a little, which have a fantastic and vivid green-y yellow tone to them that makes her stand out from the average 'human'. She has somewhat fair skin, yet not too pale showing that she perhaps spends a bit of time outside. On her left arm one can see two golden bracelets, which have interesting rune-like patterns on them, yet with no possible obvious way of taking them off. Perhaps hidden clips? Key Personality Characteristics: Easy-going, Playful, Witty, Daredevil, Boyish, Wild, Dynamic, Flirtatious, Bold, Smart, Likeable, Humorous, Frivolous, Genuine, Warm, Understanding, Optimistic, Protective, Non-committal. About: Kassidy is the kind of easygoing but extremely flirtatious female whom struggles with commitments. It's not easy for her to truly 'fall' for someone, and is often seen hanging out with different people over the week. She's simply not the type to sleep alone due to 'reasons', which may refer to the nightmares she tends to get at night when alone. She can be seen as a bit of a player, however Kassidy has a good-natured personality and often means no harm. Many people seem to like and gravitate towards her, perhaps because she's a fairly genuine yet playful person. She had a bit of a difficult past per say, but if questioned upon it, she might end up explaining why she's the way she is. Perhaps she'll settle one day, or maybe she won't; that's up to the future to hold. Kass does live a very 'All or nothing, nothing can bother me' sort of a life, however whether she truly feels that way on the inside or not, is up to one to find out by getting to know her more and perhaps spending more time with her than the usual person she hangs out with. Get close to her, and you might make a strong connection that you won't regret, but be prepared for moments of heat as well as seriousness. Kassidy after all, can be a little unpredictable. Likes: Coffe, Coffee Art, Cafes, Steamy Windows, Desserts, Forests, Skateboards, Wildness, Plaid Shirts, Animals, Sex, Music, Indie, Laughter, Good Atmosphere, Hippie, Bohemian, Sleep, Pizza, Red.  Suitable/Preferred partners: Shapeshifters, Deities, Demons, Pets: Maine Coon cat called Nala. Aesthetic Blog: https://kassidysmith.tumblr.com/ Faceclaim: (c) Noukka Signe/ Amber Mccrackin / Littlemewhatever Bandclaim: Of Monsters And Men Voice claim: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-Zszn3yQqw

Name: Harper Jane Bryant Age: 23 [Immortal] Nickname: Jay, Harp Gender: Female Sexuality: Demisexual Height: 5ft'4 Race: Witch Ethnicity: Irish Looks: Somewhat tanned skin hinting to spending plenty of time outdoors, Harper has lively auburn hair that matches wonderfully with her hazel eyes. Her style is fairly modest and she tends to stick to long sleeved shirts for one reason or another. As far as seen, she has no piercings and doesn't add too much to her clothing, preferring simple styles. She can however be seen wearing a Tree of Life pendant with a tiny pentacle in the middle of the trunk. Key Personality Characteristics: Calm-seeming from a distance, Delicate, Anxious, Weary, Hostile, Cautious, Nervous, Hard-to-Approach, Pacifistic, Selfless, Subtle, Timid, Dependant, Intelligent, Kind, Sweet, Humble, Peaceful. About: The epitome of gentleness, Harper is a very sweet kind of a girl who cares about flora and fauna incredibly so. She's not really a 'cute' or 'shy' type per say, however she struggles with anxiety enough that some people pin her to be so. As a witch, she feels very in sync with nature around her, however her magic comes at a cost. It causes intense waves of anxiety and depression within the female whenever she uses it, and due to it she takes medication, which in turn weakens the magic within her to something far more manageable. It doesn't help that the female had a rough past that involved abandonment issues in her past due to what she is, which causes communication to be incredibly hard with her unless one is willing to show her that she's safe and that they're trustworthy. She's truly one of the kindest person to be around though, and she has such a deep love for the world around her. She can be rather clingy towards Kassidy, whom she has known for a few years and had been looked after for the time, which the Goddess is rather fond of. Likes: Flora, Fauna, Herbs, Cooking, Kitchen, Gardens, Warmth, Sunshine, Tea, Quiet time, Books, Comfort, Notebooks, Windows, Seasons, Fairytales, Gentleness, Greenhouses, Trees, Crystals, Green, Outdoors.     Suitable/Preferred partners: Witches, Shapeshifters, Humans, Pets: Cats (?) Any temportary animals that she may find and take care of. Aesthetic Blog: https://harperjanebryant.tumblr.com/ Faceclaim: (c) Patrycja Dorynek Bandclaim: Said The Sky - Listen https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CbUK0XAbaow Voice claim: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0--uTxz9ojk

[chrismdthings]

mardy bum

pairing: chris dixon x reader warning(s): tiny bit of angst if you squint, then fluffffff note: inspired by Mardy Bum - Arctic Monkeys

Remember cuddles in the kitchen, yeah To get things off the ground And it was up, up and away Oh, but it’s right hard to remember that On a day like today When you’re all argumentative And you’ve got the face on

Well, now then, mardy bum Oh, I’m in trouble again, aren’t I?

You looked down at your phone, reading the series of notifications on your lockscreen. Three hours ago, flight got delayed. Thirty minutes ago, I realized how impossible it is to catch a cab outside Heathrow. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Shaking your head, you look back up and catch the eye of the nearest waiter, motioning him over.

“Would you like another few minutes for your party to arrive, miss?” He asked kindly.

You silently thank God for the small mercy that Chris never stood you up at the same restaurant twice. The staff weren’t aware of how quite pathetic you were or how you felt. Smiling at his attempt to save your feelings, you shake your head.

“No,” you said. “Just the check, please.”

While downing the rest of the pint in front of you, the waiter returned with the small folder containing the check. You’re grateful that it’s not a busy night, the restaurant only about half full, and don’t even bother, instead shoving a couple tenners inside, way overpaying for just a drink and entree, before handing it back to the waiter who scurries off as you stand and grab your things, heading straight to the door.

A few women near the door catch your eye and offer a sympathetic smile. It was somewhat gratifying that a few men at the bar gave little shakes of their heads as if dumbfounded that someone had left you waiting. Sliding on your coat, you pushed through the wooden door and into the cold December night, fetching your car down the street to head home.

When you slipped into the driver seat of your car, you checked your phone again, taking note of the timing of Chris’ last text; I’m on my way there now. Stick around for me, yeah? You laughed bitterly, locking your phone back before starting your car and heading down the familiar path to your townhome.

· · ·

Your phone is ringing as you open the door, you ignore it and kick off your shoes. The only person that would be calling at this time at night, and now, you had no desire to talk to him. It stops ringing for a moment before it starts again. Again, you ignore it while heading upstairs, taking off your earrings to drop them onto the dresser. And once more, you ignore the ringing as you slide out of your jeans and blouse to slip into the shower.

The phone rings twice more while you make macaroni and cheese in the kitchen, and then once as you slide into bed. Luckily for you, Chris doesn’t call anymore as you pull up Netflix and start on the episode of Peaky Blinders that you had left off on.

It had been two weeks since you last saw Chris, when he left to go back home for the beginning of the holiday season to spend it with his family. Now that the initial holidays were over and New Year’s was approaching, he planned on coming in to spend the rest of the year with you, in your shared London space. It was a tradition.

That night he was supposed to fly in, meet you at the house before leaving for dinner. Then his flight was delayed – pushing the schedule back for the first time. He then told you he would meet you at the small Irish pub around the corner from yours, your favorite spot, the tradition. And then the schedule was pushed back once again as the influx at the airport had been too much, and it was near impossible to find a cab while fighting off the rush of travelers from the holidays.

It hadn’t been the first time this happened.

Just last month he had left you waiting at The Shard, in the most elegant, yearned-for-reservation place in the entire city, and you had been left alone when his train didn’t make it back from Manchester in time. That was something you had brushed off before, but now, as you were stood up for the second time, it almost began to burn.

It wasn’t that the relationship was struggling, it wasn’t that you were falling out of love, it was just annoying. You had always been the type of person to be on time for everything, early for appointments or meetings, or right on time for dinners or nights out with friends. It was that this was the second time, more specifically twice in a public place, and it was embarrassing each time. You wished that Chris was a more thoughtful person.

Sitting the empty bowl on the nightstand, you flipped off the light and put on your favorite show to fall asleep to before a light slumber took over.

Chris slipped into the townhouse an hour after he sent his last text message, being welcomed back in complete darkness with the exception of the small light in the kitchen. He walked further inside, toeing off his shoes at the door and dragging his suitcase behind him. Swiftly changing into a pair of shorts, discarding all of his airport clothes back into the bag, Chris walked upstairs to where your room was at on the left. He was walking through the dark like he had done this his entire life. It was like he could always make his way around where you were.

You were asleep as he pushed the door open farther, laying on your side with eyes fluttered shut as an episode of Friends played on the telly. The colors from the screen danced around the room until he shut it off, sliding into the bed next to your warm body.

“I’m sorry,” Chris said into the darkness, pulling the covers over his hips. “I don’t even know if you’re awake, but I’m sorry. I should have planned everything out better, I should have made sure I was here early enough to be with you. I know you wanted to have a special night.”

He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, vaguely making out the small patterns. In the corner, there was one of those small, glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling, that he put there after you first moved in because you said you wanted to fall asleep under the stars. It was for a joke, one that you appreciated fully. Staring at it, he could still hear your laugh as he explained it.

“I know how much small things mean to you,” he let out a deep breath, “I’ll do better. I’m just glad to finally be back here, with you. At home.”

On your right side, your eyes remained closed, but you let out a small smile before Chris settled in for the night too.

· · ·

The next morning Chris woke up before you, but when he slipped out of the shower he noticed that you were no longer wrapped under the blankets, but instead downstairs where he could hear pans and pots being used, coffee brewing.

After drying off and sliding into a new pair of shorts, Chris walked out into the hallway, prepared to head downstairs when he saw the photos hanging on the walls above the railing. They were mostly of you and your siblings, family and friends, and then there was two of you and Chris. The photos were from particular holidays – one from Wales that was your first trip together, another from an island off of Scotland for your first anniversary as a couple. There were plenty of other holidays taken, too, to France, to New York, and all of those photos were sitting in frames downstairs on end tables and the mantle.

It took a while to finally finish putting up all the photos in the house. After moving in just a few months ago, you managed to slowly but surely put them up rather than dedicating an entire day to it. Even though you had been living there for just a handful of months, it was already starting to feel more homely than before, for both of you.

He smiled slightly, sleepily, before carrying down the stairs to the living room. You were standing by the stove when Chris stepped into the kitchen through the doorway. A shot of happiness, of joy, went straight through your system, your body immediately craving jumping into his arms and welcoming him back in the way you originally planned, but the memories of the night before, the anger and going to sleep sad took over instead.

“Morning,” Chris finally said as he moved through the room to the adjacent room. You didn’t say anything back, just looking back down to the mug in front of you, occasionally taking glances as he walked into the living room.

He lowered down on the sofa to go through his bag, picking out clothes that he could put on today if you two had decided to leave the house. And then he noticed that a pair of jeans and his shirt was missing – the ones that he had worn yesterday.

His head raised to look around the room – his clothes weren’t strewn over any arm of furniture, or left in a puddle on the floor. They were gone. And that’s when he took note of the sound of the washing machine running just off the living room. You had cleaned up around his bag, put his dirty clothes in the wash. Even when you weren’t speaking, you were still showing affection through simple, domestic acts.

When Chris spun around to speak of it, he turned his head over his shoulder and saw you walking towards him, a second mug in hand. Actually, it was his favorite mug in your home – a white one with multicolored lines that resembled the tube lines of London. He smiled when you stepped around the corner of the sofa, handing it out to him.

“Welcome home, love,” you finally said while sinking down on the sofa.

It was a mug of tea while you enjoyed yours of coffee, making sure to add both sugar and milk to each. He smiled and pulled you into his lap as you sat, both nestling the mugs in your hands, taking occasional sips.

You stared at the liquid in the mug before raising your head, looking at Chris’ side profile, admiring it while you ran the back of your fingers across his cheek. It was moments like this that you missed the most while he was gone – just existing together, in the same room.

“And I’m sorry for being a bitch last night. You know – not answering texts, calls, and leaving the pub.” You apologized. “It was shitty and I’m sorry for not saying something to let you know.”

Chris shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I knew you would leave if I didn’t show up, so I didn’t even bother checking to see if you were there.” He explained, sliding his arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer into him. His bare skin was warm against yours. “And I’m sorry too.”

“I know, I heard you talking last night.”

Chris’ head hastily turned to look at you. “You were awake?” He asked and you nodded. “And you just let me talk in the dark like an idiot?”

You laughed, “add that to the list of things I’m sorry about too.” Laying your head down on his shoulder, you two sat in silence, sipping from your mugs, just enjoying the presence of the other for the first time in two weeks. “So how do you want to enjoy the holidays now that you’re back?” You asked. “Eating? Sleeping?”

Chris hummed. “How about all of the above?” He asked, half-jokingly and you laughed, nodding.

“Sounds good. First, let’s make pancakes, though.”

“You really know the way to my heart,”

You both scrambled to your feet, sliding in your socks into the kitchen, pulling out all of the ingredients and pans to be used. You grabbed the butter and eggs from the refrigerator, turning around to watch Chris shuffle through the mixes in the pantry. You smiled when he raised to his toes to grab it off the top shelf.

“You know,” you hummed, “we called it our home.”

Chris raised a brow at you. “What?” He asked while sitting everything on the island.

“When you got in bed last night, you said that it was nice to finally be home. And I guess it kind of, hit me too, because I told you welcome home just a few minutes ago.” You explained, the corners of your lips turning up. “We hadn’t done that before.”

At first, this was your townhouse – your new place after moving out of the tiny flat in the towers outside of London, but when Chris’ visits were more often and for a longer duration, it was no longer just your place. It was for both of you now.

The townhouse was what Chris always had in mind when he imagined going home, to the place where he always felt comfortable, when someone asked where his happy place was. The townhouse was yours, but now with his toothbrush on the sink, his clothes in the closet, his filming equipment in the office, it felt like his, too.

Chris dropped his chin, looking over the things he pulled from the pantry. “I mean,” he looked back up at you, “I guess that it just feels right, yeah?”

“It does,” you said sliding around the corner, next to him, “I like saying that I can come home to you.”

“Are we that disgusting couple already?” Chris teased as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist.

“Yeah, we are,” you said before laughing, leaning in to kiss him softly, “but I love it.”

“Good, because so do I.” His laugh was muffled by your lips, causing you both to laugh before kissing again, completely abandoning the ingredients on the island as he swiftly sat you on the counter.  

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

The Creature

Pairing:  Frankenstein’s Monster!Bucky x Reader Summary: Doctor Zola wants to take over the world with his patchwork monster, but the creature escapes. He doesn’t want to hurt people, but that doesn’t stop the townspeople from being afraid of his metal arm and scarred body. He’s broken and scared and has nowhere to go... until he stumbles upon a cottage in the woods and the beautiful woman that lives there. Warnings: Blood, Body Modification, Death Word Count: ~2,942 A/N: This is the tenth Monster!Character one shot for this Spooktober season! If you’d like to be tagged in other Spooktober stories, check out this post! Send me Spooktober requests for Monster!Character fics you want to see! This request was from Ao3!

Masterlist // The Monster Series Collection

The Creature’s POV

The townspeople shriek when they see him. They bring out their torches and swords and pitch forks and chase him away from their towns.

He could hurt them. He could simply break their necks before they could lift a finger. He’s done it before. It made the Doctor happy, when he did this.

He doesn’t like hurting the people, so once he’s been discovered he runs instead of fights. All he wants is to live away from the Doctor, but he’s monstrous. He knows that.

The people from this town bring out their dogs to track him and chase him through the woods on horseback, but he’s had time, now, to learn to maneuver through the trees and in the underbrush. He goes where the horses cannot. They give up as the sun begins to crest the horizon and he watches them from his spot on the cliff, eyes trained on the torches as they flicker in and out of view beneath the canopy of trees. When he can no longer see them he slowly climbs down from his spot in the tree, ears perked for the bay of hounds.

He begins walking away from where he knows the town is; now that they’ve seen him they’ll be on alert. He can’t go back there.

Maybe he’ll have better luck at the next one.

He walks. He knows, distantly, that his body needs food and water. It’s been days since he ate and an entire day since he found a stream and drank from that.

When the smell of food hits his nose he follows it without thinking about it. After a few minutes he can see a trail of smoke above the treeline and a few minutes after that the trees clear enough that he can spot a cabin.

He stays in the shadows of the boughs of the trees, looking for any signs of danger.

Movement in the window catches his attention and his cold steel blue eyes lock onto the source: a woman with her nose stuck in a book, floating around the kitchen. The sound of her quiet humming seeps through the open window and his lips make a sort of aborted motion that he can’t begin to fathom.

She turns around and lowers the book to stir the pot on the stove top and his breath catches in his throat. She’s beautiful. He walks towards the house, caution thrown to the wind.

Your POV

You’re so lost in your book that you don’t realize you have an audience until he’s already at your window.

A squeak of surprise tinged with fear leaves your lips as you sight the tall, imposing, and raggedly-dressed man looming just outside your kitchen window, looking lost and more than a little confused. From the nearly feral way he’s looking around you half expect him to climb through the window and attack you, but he stays almost eerily still and watches you, his bright blue eyes a wild contrast to his dirty face.

“H-hello,” you say faintly, heart thudding almost deafeningly loud in your ears.

His eyes widen in surprise and he takes a half step backwards, looking to be torn between running and staying put. You dare not provoke him so you wait, letting him make the first move. After a short eternity, he swallows thickly and rasps out a “Hello,” in a deep, obviously disused voice.

Your lips twitch upwards in a tentative smile. “It’s a very nice day out, isn’t it?” you venture, hoping that weather was a safe enough topic for a clearly scared, unstable man.

He looks around, as if noticing he’s outside for the first time, brow furrowed in an almost endearing way beneath his mop of dark brown hair. “No,” he says decisively, giving the cloudy sky one last frown before he looks back at you, gaze softening.

You can’t help but laugh at that, genuine smile lighting up your face. “Yes, I suppose you’re right about that. I was just thankful it’s not raining again.” He stares at you like you’ve just turned water into wine and your smile becomes a little more strained. “Are you lost?” Instead of any helpful answer, he shrugs a single shoulder. The glint of light off metal catches your eye and you suck in a breath, shocked.

Through the holes of his shirt (of which there are many) you can see his left arm... which entirely shiny, silver metal.

His eyes widen in fear as he follows your line of sight and he angles his body so his left arm is hidden behind him, but it’s clear from the look in his eyes that he knows the damage has been done. He’s already practically folding in on himself, legs trembling so subtly that you almost can’t see it, so fixated on his face as you are.

“Does it hurt?” you breathe, leaning over the railing to try and get a closer look.

That shocks him into looking at you, shoulders sagging as his blue eyes flick to you, surprise plain as day on his face.

His mouth opens and closes a few times, obviously at a loss for words. At once, you find yourself angry. Who would let a man with an injury like his walk around the forest all alone? He’d obviously been out there for weeks if the state of him was anything to go by.

He was saved from having to answer, though, when his stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl that you swore shook the windows in their frames. He looked away nervously only to glance back up again, obviously worried.

You only smiled at him, a bit charmed. “Would you like some food?”

He looked conflicted, but apparently his bodily needs won out over whatever else he was fighting against internally. “Yes, please.”

“What do I call you?” you ask while the two of you eat the soup you’d been preparing.

“I don’t have a name,” he says, not looking at you as he slowly but steadily decimates the large bowl of soup in front of him.

You smile at him. “Everyone has a name.”

“I don’t.”

You tilt your head to the side, considering. “How about... Bucky?” 

He doesn’t look up at you, but there’s a tiny, pleased smile curling the corner of his lips as he sips at the soup on his spoon. 

You beam at him. “Bucky it is, then.” He nods once and you take that as a confirmation that you’d made a good choice. “Bucky?”

He looks up at you, matted hair half-hiding his face.

“My name is (Y/N), Bucky. How would you like to wash up after you’re done with that soup? I’ll get some hot water and soap ready for you.”

“A little higher please, Bucky!” you say to him.

He hoists you a higher, one hand under your butt and the other holding your hand, keeping you steady as you reach for one of the highest apples on the tree. It’s the end of the season and you know if you leave them on the tree any longer they’ll only fall to the ground and rot.

With a victorious “Aha!” you pluck the ripe apple from the tree and look down at Bucky, pleased as Punch. He’s smiling up at you and his long hair- cleaned and combed- is held back with a tie, letting you see every inch of his lovely face.

You smile at him and squeeze his hand. He lowers you carefully to the ground and you place the last apple in the basket and go to pick it up, but Bucky beats you to it.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you say, genuinely thankful for his help. The basket is a third of your height and easily as wide. It would have taken you a half hour to drag it back to your house, despite how close it is.

Just like you knew they would, his cheeks turn pink and he nods. He immediately takes off in the direction of the house, making it look like toting that giant basket around is easy, even when you know most grown men would struggle with it.

You follow after him with a dopey smile on your face.

You’re reading on the couch in the living room and Bucky is sitting in front of you, watching the world through the window as you run your fingers through his hair.

He goes tense and you look up from your book, concerned. 

You’d been expecting something serious so when you see him staring intensely at a deer outside you can’t help but smile. When he gets up, catlike and absolutely silent, you don’t move to stop him, but put your bookmark in to keep your place and follow him quietly.

He stalks to the door and opens it and you wonder, briefly, how he managed to open it without it squeaking like a dying pig. You wait by the door and watch.

He gets within ten feet of the deer before it sees him. They both freeze, neither one moving. One of Bucky’s feet is off the ground, but he’s as still as a statue.

Then, he throws his hands in the air and screams like a howler monkey and the deer scrambles away into the forest, kicking up dirt and dead leaves as it goes. He turns back and seems surprised to find you standing there, but walks back with a smile on his face.

“Protect?” he asks when he stops in front of you, tentative and hopeful.

You smile at him and tuck some loose strands of hair back behind his ear, fingertips lingering on his stubbled cheek. “Thank you. I don’t think we need to worry about deer, though,” you say, smile softening when he leans into your touch. His blue eyes cloud with confusion, but you take his left hand in your free one and tug him gently back into the warmth of the house. “C’mon, big guy. You’re letting all the heat out.”

“I did something wrong?” he asks as you close the door, lock it, and lead him back into the living room.

You sit back down on the couch and hold your arms out. Immediately he’s next to you, head resting against your shoulder and single knee laying on top of your thighs. “No, Bucky. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

It’s his first time off of your property since the two of you met and he’s tense and jumpy, but you needed some things for the coming winter. That means going into town, and he nearly had a conniption when you tried to explain that you needed to leave.

So he came with you.

“Hello, Steve!” you call as you enter the small bakery. The scent of delicious freshly baked goods and confections makes your mouth water.

There’s a loud noise of flesh hitting metal followed by a muffled curse. “Is that you, (Y/N)?” Steve appears in the doorway a moment later, hair askew with flour on one of his cheeks. When he sees you he smiles, but it slips off his face when he sees your rather large, imposing shadow.

The heavy cloak that had served to hide Bucky’s arm and scars now make him that much more conspicuous as he glares at Steve from under the hood.

“Who’s your friend?” Steve asks, wiping the worst of the mess on his hands onto his apron.

You smile and take Bucky’s hand in yours and give it a reassuring squeeze. He finally tears his gaze off Steve to look at you, but he’s still coiled as tightly as a spring. “This is Bucky,” you tell Steve with a genuine smile.

Steve’s face is carefully impassive as he looks between you and Bucky, but you can tell from the way that he’s not smiling that he’s confused and concerned. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” Steve says before the pause can get too awkward.

Bucky glances at you for confirmation and you nod encouragingly. His gaze slides back to Steve and he gives him a quick nod. “Nice to meet you,” he mumbles.

Steve looks at you for a moment and apparently decides to take your lead on this because he smiles a moment later. “What can I get you today?” he asks, gesturing grandly to the tiny shop.

You squeeze Bucky’s hand to get his attention. “Pick something out, just like we talked about, alright?” you ask him.

He looks dubious but nods and walks around the small shop, occasionally stopping to stare at a confection or two.

You leave him to it and heft the large picnic basket up onto the counter. “Here are the apples from the harvest. They’re the best of the crop,” you tell Steve with a smile.

However, Steve’s gaze is trained on Bucky. “You know who that is, don’t you?”

You frown, but don’t turn around to look at Bucky. “I have my suspicions.”

Steve finally looks at you. “He’s been missing for years. There have been unsettling rumors...”

You shrug and push the basket a little farther over the counter towards Steve. He takes the hint and removes it from the table, though he doesn’t move away from the counter, and sets it by his feet gently. “I thought he was dead...”

You finally look over your shoulder at Bucky, who’s sniffing warily at a bagel. “Me too,” you admit as you turn back to Steve.

He stares at Bucky for a long moment before his gaze flicks to you. “Should I alert the men?” he asks, businesslike.

Steve didn’t get this strong from lifting bags of flour around all day.

You give him a melancholy smile. “I think that would be best. There’s more information in the basket.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but straightens up a bit and smiles at someone over your shoulder. “Hello, did you find something you liked?”

You turn to look at Bucky, who looks from you to Steve, then slowly slides a half eaten bagel and two others of the same type onto the counter. “These,” he rasps.

Steve smiles at him. “I had a feeling you’d like those. I’ll get them wrapped up for you, then grab (Y/N)’s order,” Steve said smoothly. He grabs the basket from the ground and goes into the back room, giving you one last meaningful glance before he goes.

It’s time for answers and justice.

“He’s in here. He won’t move. Nearly took off Morita’s head when we tried to move him.”

You follow Steve and Dum Dum through the labyrinthine halls of Castle Zola and, even though you know Steve, Bucky, and the Howling Commandos have cleared it out of Hydra sympathizers, you can’t help but feel uncomfortable. Its grizzly rooms and dour decor set your teeth on edge and you find yourself constantly looking over your shoulder. You find Falsworth and Jones there each time, stalwart and observant, but you can never relax.

Steve opens the heavy iron-reinforced oak doors but doesn’t go into the room. He doesn’t like the thought of you going in alone, but doesn’t want to risk having to fight Bucky.

You step into the room- no, a laboratory- and suck in a breath and bite back the bile rising in your throat. It’s a horror show and you don’t stare at any one thing too long, instead focusing on Bucky’s back.

He’s standing over what’s left of Doctor Zola. His back is to you, but you can see blood slowly dripping from his hands. You don’t know if it’s Bucky’s or Zola’s, but you pray it’s the latter’s. Bucky is so still that it’s impossible to tell if he’s even breathing.

“Bucky?” you ask tentatively as you walk slowly towards him. Your voice is so quiet in the huge, overpoweringly horrific room that you can barely hear yourself. Bucky, however, jolts as though he’d been shocked, but he still doesn’t turn to look at you. You try again, sure to put a little more energy in this time. “It’s me, Bucky. (Y/N).” It’s a risk to reach out and take his hand but you do it anyway; he’d never hurt you

The moment your fingers lace with he decompresses like a balloon with the air being let out. He turns to look at you, eyes tired and haunted.

“It’s okay, Buck. You did it. He’s not gonna hurt anyone anymore,” you say softly. He nearly flinches when you slowly bring your hand up and brush some of his hair from his face and your heart breaks just a little more for this beautiful, damaged man.

“I did something wrong?” he whispers, studying you searchingly.

You shake your head and cup his face with the hand not holding his. “No, Bucky. The Doctor hurt a lot of people, including you. I know you don’t like hurting people but if you hadn’t shown up my friends would be dead right now.” You pause and give him what you hope is a comforting smile. “He can’t hurt you anymore, Buck. Not you or anyone else.”

“You’re safe?” he rasps, ducking down so that you’re eye level with each other.

You rest your forehead against his and nod your head ever so slightly. “Yeah, Bucky. You made sure I’m safe. Thank you.”

Bucky shifts anxiously, gaze moving away before snapping back. “I stay? With you?” he asks nervously.

You trace the fine scars on his cheek and neck. “Yeah, Bucky. As long as you want.”

“Forever?” he breathes, not daring to hope.

“Forever,” you assure him.

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[myforeverforlife]

A oneshot for @trishmarieco

Jongdae +  9 “I come home to you getting turnt to Wii music in the kitchen.”

Whenever winter rolled around, bringing with it the promise of colder days and holidays, you always looked forward to food the most. Gingerbread cookies, in particular. 

You leaned against the kitchen counter, chin propped up on your hand as you looked over a recipe on your phone. Last year, your batch of cookies had been good, but you were convinced that they could be better. After all, these were treats that you’d be gifting to your co-workers before your break for the holidays. 

“Dae?” you called out. “I don’t know about this one.” 

You heard Jongdae before you saw him, the telltale melody of carols in the air as he hummed to himself. “You say that for every recipe you find. The cookies last year were great, why don’t you make those again?” 

Turning around, you let your back rest against the counter as you crossed your arms across your chest. Jongdae’s posture mirrored your own from where he stood beside the fridge. He raised an eyebrow as a question, truly curious as to why you were putting yourself through so much trouble.

“They were too dry. I don’t want the cookies to be rock-hard.”

Jongdae chuckled, tickled by your explanation. “Babe, they’re gingerbread. I think they’re all gonna end up a little dry anyways.”

“That’s not gonna stop me from trying.” You picked up your phone once more, focused only on the screen as you continued to search. 

A pair of arms settled around your waist, Jongdae coming over to stand beside you as he leaned his chin on your shoulder. “You know, we could always just buy cookies instead of making them.” 

“It’s not the same, I want to make these. It makes me feel like I’m actually good at baking.”

Jongdae pressed a kiss to your cheek, his hair tickling your face. “You are good at baking, babe. Those five pounds I’ve gained in the past year can speak for that.” 

“You’re overreacting,” you told him with a small giggle. “And you need that extra weight anyways, you’re too skinny.” 

“Does that mean I get to eat some of these cookies too?” 

“Only if you run to the store for me.” 

Jongdae groaned before giving you a small squeeze, still holding onto you. “What do you need?” 

“Most of these recipes call for the same ingredients. The only thing I’m missing is decorating gel.” 

“Any specific colors you want?” 

You turned to face him, kissing him in thanks. “It doesn’t matter, you can pick. Thanks, Dae.”

“Of course. Anything for you.” 

You walked him to the door, watching as he pulled on his coat and shoes. Just when you thought he was about to leave, he turned back around, a grin on his face as he came closer. His hands reached for your face, the rough pads of his hands a familiar sensation against your cheeks as he kissed you once more. Compared to the other kisses, which were short and innocent, this one was more lazy and drawn-out. You pulled him closer to you, a hand resting at the nape of his neck and brushing against the ends of his hair. 

When you finally pulled away, out of breath and heart racing, you were glad to see Jongdae looked just as lost for words. His cheeks were flushed pink, a crooked smile on his face as he watched you warmly. “I’ll be back,” he murmured gently, reaching for the door handle.

Nodding, you gave him a small wave. “Drive safely.” 

And with that, Jongdae was gone, the door closing shut behind him. You locked the door and quickly got to work, tying an apron around your waist and getting your materials ready. 

Of course, any baking session wasn’t complete without some music. 

A quick glance through your phone led you to a playlist that you had almost forgotten about, one that you had simply labeled “For A Good Day”. The opening notes of a pop song filtered into the air, instantly putting a spring in your step. 

This wasn’t the first Christmas that you and Jongdae were spending together, but something about the holiday season always managed to make both of you more clingy around each other. More often than not, the temptation of being lazy at home won out over walking outside to see the snow. 

For some reason, Jongdae had been increasingly more affectionate with you than usual. You had teased him about it, saying that he must be trying to make up for doing something bad. Jongdae had only given you that curled smile of his before snuggling beside you. 

You thought about this as you mixed the ingredients together, your hands on auto-pilot as you worked. Maybe Jongdae had been having a hard time at work? You rejected that thought instantly - if he had been, he would have told you. It could just be winter blues, people were known to be more prone to states of melancholy during the colder season. But that didn’t make sense to you either. Jongdae was just as cheerful and transparent about his feelings as ever. You stopped mixing and let out a sigh, hair blowing away from your face for a brief second. 

Choosing to focus on your cookies, you made quick work of putting the dough in the fridge to chill. As you were washing your utensils in the sink, a new song began to play from your phone. 

You laughed as soon as you recognized the tune. A couple of years ago, Chanyeol had shown you a video of Drake’s “Hotline Bling” as a remix to Wii music. At the time, you had rolled your eyes even as Chanyeol danced along. The tune was so catchy though, that you even let him download it onto your phone. You had no doubt that he had added this to your playlist as well. 

The front door opened with a squeak, the sound of shoes stomping against the floor. You heard Jongdae give a small laugh, and he came into the kitchen with crinkling eyes as he giggled at your choice in music. 

“I come home to you getting turnt to Wii music in the kitchen.” 

“You can thank Chanyeol for this. Oh, and Drake.” 

Jongdae snorted in amusement as he held out a bag of groceries to you, cheeks red from running around in the cold. “Your gel, as requested.”

“Thanks, Dae.” Both of you looked through the assorted colors, setting them out onto the counter and imagining what kinds of designs to draw. 

Baking was essentially a long waiting game, and once the dough had chilled long enough, you and Jongdae cut the cookies out and got them into the even. Thankfully, they only needed about 10 minutes.  

Jongdae peered over your shoulder as you got the cookies out, setting them down to cool. “So when do we get to decorate?” 

“Hold your horses, Dae. They’re still too hot, you’re gonna burn your fingers.” 

“Do you always wait this long when you’re baking?” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault you have no patience.” You turned away with a giggle as Jongdae tried his best to refute this, a long-winded comeback falling from his lips. As much as you loved being affectionate with Jongdae the most, teasing him came in a very close second place. 

When you finally announced that it was okay to start decorating, Jongdae’s face lit up with excitement. He reached for a cookie and a tube of green decorating gel, biting down on his tongue in concentration as he tried his best to draw even lines. Groups of colorful gingerbread men and women, even children, began to take shape. The cheerful faces looked back up at you, bright lines of gel giving the impression of tiny shirts, dresses and suits on the baked goods. 

But one cookie had escaped your eye, one that Jongdae had spent extra time on. At first glance, it appeared to be similar to the other cookies: generic smiley-face, winter outfit and all. But on the gingerbread cookie’s left hand, Jongdae had discreetly drawn a tiny line in yellow gel: a ring. A ring that Jongdae had meant to resemble the one hiding away in an old suitcase in the bedroom closet.

He watched as you stacked all of the decorated cookies onto a plate, briefly assessing each one before setting it down. A knowing smirk played at his lips, oh, how he wanted you to notice so badly. 

Oblivious to this, you continued to pile up your cookies, even picking up Jongdae’s special one and placing it with the rest. He almost wanted to point it out to you, but that would ruin his entire plan. Jongdae wasn’t even entirely sure why he had decided to leave such an obvious hint. Part of him wanted to propose to you already, to ask you the question that had been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Jongdae flinched in surprise, his hand slipping from the counter as you cast him a worried glance. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. What’s on your mind?” You covered the cookies with plastic wrap, working efficiently as you waited. 

Jongdae pursed his lips as he thought, one foot tapping aimlessly against the floor. “I’ll tell you soon.” 

“But how soon is soon?” You inched closer to him, hoping to coax the answer out of him with your charms. 

“Oh no, that’s not gonna work on me.” Despite his words, Jongdae pulled you close to him in a tight hug, his face only a few inches away from yours. 

“Please, Dae?” you pleaded, a pout forming. 

He groaned, eyes closing shut before opening once more. “I’ll tell you on... Christmas.” 

“You promise?” 

Jongdae thought of the ring once more, his hands coming to run over your fingers. 

“I promise.” 

A/N: when I saw the prompt, that remix was literally the first thing to come to mind 😂 also, I know I said I probably wasn’t gonna be on here, but I finally got this prompt done (woohoo) happy holidays everyone

[trilliastra]

I read this tweet that said "this guy was sitting on the floor of the gym on his phone and he looks up at me and goes "my girl has my location shared and i promised her i was gonna go to the gym more so now i just sit here and watch netflix". Which just screams sterek fic to me XD

Derek notices him the first time heshows up wearing jeans and a t-shirt, definitely not appropriateexercising gear. He’s correcting Mr. Wilson’s posture, buthe still sees the guy walking towards Erica, saying something that makesher laugh and then taking a seat at the lobby.

Derek figures he’s waiting forsomeone, so he just focuses on Mr. Wilson and lets the guy be.

Two days later the guy is back, thesame stupid smile on his face as he says hi to Erica and collapses onthe same chair, phone in hand. Derek frowns before Laura is callingfor his help with one of her exercises - his sister just doesn’tknow when to stop trying to gain muscle, god. 

January and February are the busiestmonths, people who usually just run outside come into thegym to avoid the cold and the snow, so Derek doesn’t have the timeto wonder about the guy. But three weeks after the first time Dereknoticed him, Erica goes into labor.

She sounds calm when she calls Derekinforming him she won’t be able to make it, but five minutes afterBoyd leaves the gym in a hurry she calls Derek again, yelling about her husband not being there with her yet. Erica is his best friend andDerek’s going to be her daughter’s godfather, but damn - he coulddo without her screaming.

“Hey.” The guy comes into the gymwhen Derek is sorting through stacks of paper, taking care of thefront desk while Erica is probably yelling obscenities at thehospital. “Where’s Erica?”

“Having a baby.” Derek answers,arching an eyebrow when the guy’s eyes shine and he smiles.

“Oh, cool!” He yells,enthusiastically. “I like babies.” He says before taking his phone and starting to watch some video.

Derek’s eye twitches. “Areyou waiting for someone?”

The guy looks up, gives Derek anonce-over and shakes his head. “No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My girl has my location shared andI promised her I was gonna go to the gym more so now I just sit hereand watch Netflix.” He smiles like that’s a completely normalthing that people do.

“Did Erica give you our wifipassword?” Derek takes a deep breath, tries to remember his friendis in pain right now.

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’,not taking his eyes away from his phone. “We are buds.”

“Right.” Derek closes his eyes,rubs at his temples. “That will be 10 dollars.”

“What?” The guy all but jumps,dropping his phone on his lap. He licks his lips and Derek followsthe movement with his eyes, groaning inwardly. Figures the guy wouldbe hot - and have a girlfriend. With hands like that, of course hedoes. He bets those fingers can do things tosomeone. “I’m just using your wifi!”

“For free.” Derekstresses.

“I -” the guy sputters, trying tocome up with something, “I wanna talk to the owner!”

“You are.” Derek smirks, crossinghis arms over his chest. He tries not to laugh as the guy freezes.

“Ugh.” He takes hiswallet, slams a ten dollar bill on the desk. “And Ithought Erica was scary.”

“She is.” Derek smilestriumphantly. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell yourgirlfriend the truth?”

The guy snorts, humorless. “No.”

“Oh well,” Derek shrugs, “suityourself.”

-

Erica laughs until she cries whenDerek lectures her about giving their wifi password to strangers. Hisglare is less effective when he’s holding a tiny cute baby in hisarms, but - well, Erica was always immune to his glare.

“His name is Stiles.” She informs, taking Bea from him. “He’s Scott’s friends, you know?The guy who works with Isaac.”

Derek does know him, Scott is a nicevet and a nice guy. Stiles - and what kind of name is that? - is not.

“He shouldn’t be lying to hisgirlfriend.” Derek states, just to have something to say. Boydcomes into the room and smiles softly at his wife. “And ifyou’re coming to a gym every other day, why don’t just try itout?”

“Not everyone likes lifting weightsas much as you.” Boyd points out, clasping Derek’s back andsmiling teasingly.

“Well,” Derek mutters, runningone finger over Bea’s nose, “I guess he doesn’t reallyneed much exercising.” Not that Derek was looking.

“Interested much?” Erica teases.

“He has a girlfriend.” 

“So?” She smiles, taking Boyd’shand. “Boyd had a girlfriend when we met, now look at us.”She winks. “A house, lots of sex, one daughter.”

Ugh.

-

“Hey, Derek!” Derek groans, hideshis face further in his arms. “Woah, what happened to you?”

“Took Boyd out to celebrate.” Hemumbles. It’s been so long they went out, he had forgotten Boyddrinks a lot.

Stilessnorts. “Sucks being you.”

“Ha-ha.”Someone slams a door inside and Derek winces. “I hate my life.”

Aglass of water is placed in front of him and when Derek looks up,Stiles is smiling. “I heard it helps.”

Dereknods, slowly. “Thanks.” He says, watching as Stiles sits on thechair that Derek now thinks as ’Stiles’ chair’and takes his phone. “What are you watching?”

“MadMen?” He says. “Have you watched?”

“Thefirst two seasons, I think.” Derek drinks the rest of the water,thinking about the last time he sat in front of the TV to just watchsomething. Paperwork is a bitch.

“I’mstarting the third.” Stiles smiles. “You wanna?” He waves hisphone and pats the seat next to him.

Dereklooks at the stack of papers on the desk, his head still pounding.Fuck it. “Yeah, okay.” He sits next to Stiles and tries not tothink about how he smells so nice.

-

It’s been two weeks since Erica hadBea and she’s still home. She came to the gym the week before tointroduce Bea to the rest of the staff, took one look at Derek’s deskand insisted she was ready to work. Derek only shook his head andsaid he could handle it – it’s a lie and they both know it, butErica has a baby to take care now. Derek can deal with a fewsleepless nights, mostly because he knows Erica is not sleepingeither.

“So what do you teach?” Stilesasks, leaning against the front desk and running his eyes over themess Derek spent most of the afternoon trying to sort.

“Everything.” Derek shrugs.“We’re a little short-handed since Erica is on her leave andJackson left without any explanation two months ago.” Even thoughJackson is an asshole and they’re much better without him, that meansDerek has to cover his shifts. Which also means less sleeping, moreworking. “And what do you do?Besides coming here and doing nothing, that is.”

Stilessnorts. “I work from home and I mostly do my own hours. Lucky me, Iguess.”

“Yeah,yeah.” Derek waves him off, pointedly not staring at his smile. Theattraction was easy to ignore when Stiles was just sitting therequietly, but now he’s decided they needto talk. It’s the worst – the guy couldn’t just be hot, he has tobe smart, cute and funny too. Cora is having the time of her lifeteasing him. “Here,” he hands Stiles a calculator and a list ofnumbers, “do the thing.”

“What?”Stiles fumbles with the paper. It’s stupidly cute. “Dude, did youforget I’m the one paying you?”

“You’redistracting me.” Derek says. “So shut up and do somethinguseful.”

“Rude.”Stiles mumbles, but he sits next to Derek and begins to work.

Stilesdoesn’t leave till Derek closes up and then practically drags him tothe coffee shop on the corner. It’s one of the best work days Derek’sever had.

-

Stiles shows up next Monday wearingsneakers and sweatpants, it’s not what Derek would have chosen but itwill have to do. “No.” Derek doesn’t let Stiles sit, takeshis arm and drags him towards the room they use for yoga classes. “Doyou know how to stretch?”

“What.” Stiles blinks. “Ofcourse I do, but what - “

“Then stretch.”

“But I don’t want to!” Stileswhines. “Can’t I just go back to watching Black Mirror on myphone?”

“Nope.” Derek smiles. “Newpolicy: you’re in my gym, you do what I say. Stretch.”

Stiles groans, but do as Derek said.He alternates between complaining and glaring, but Derek doesn’tmind. He’s enjoying himself watching Stiles suffer. This hasnothing to do with the way his arms look. Or his ass.

Shit, that’s a nice ass.

“Are we done?”

“As if.” Derek smirks, dragginghim to the treadmills. “Ten minutes, then let’s see what youcan do with the weights.”

“Nothing!” Stiles complains. “I’mweak! I do computer programming and I never leave my apartment! Iplayed lacrosse in high school and I only watchbaseball on my TV, please stop torturing me.” Derek snorts, makingStiles glare at him again. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” He turns around. “Tenminutes.”

-

Even though he complained for thefirst ten or fifteen minutes, Stiles is surprisingly good atfollowing instructions. Derek makes him do pull ups, works histriceps and his legs with different exercises and finishes withanother ten minutes at the treadmill. 

“I’m dead.” Stiles says whenthey are done. “You killed me, I hate you. Where’s Erica?”

“Still taking care of her baby.”Derek shrugs, looking down so not to give into the urge to lick at astray drop of sweat running down Stiles’ neck. “You know youcan change instructors, right? Maybe you’d prefer Cora?” Hepoints at the far end of the gym, where Cora is yelling at Danny topress harder. Stiles visibly shudders. 

“Yeah, no.” He sighs. “Thanks, though.” Stiles scratches at the back of his neck. “Iactually need to start doing stuff, I’m just too lazy to admit.”He smiles shyly, and Derek feels himself flushing red.

“I’m doing this for yourgirlfriend.” Derek says, turning around to mess with some neatlyorganized papers, just so he can have something to do with his hands.

“Yeah,” Stiles starts, “shebroke up with me, like - weeks ago.”

“Oh?” Derek turns, feels hisheart begin to beat faster. “Why did you keep coming, then?”

“I don’t know.” Stilesshrugs. “I guess I just like it here.” It’s Stiles’ turnto look away. “When you’re not making me exercise or helpout with the bills, you’re actually nice.”

“Oh, I –” Derek swallows hard,tries to hide his blush, “thanks, I guess.” He’s so bad at this,no wonder he’s still single. Sometimes people come into the gym andstart hitting on him and Derek only finds out days later, when Ericacalmly explains at him that ‘no, Derek, she didn’t actually need helpstretching, she just wanted your hands on her’.

“You’re welcome.” Stiles says,looks down at his phone and then up at Derek again. “I guess I haveto go. Unless, you want me to stay? Help you out some more?” Hesmiles, tentative.

Derek licks his lips, looks away.“Nah, it’s fine.” He shrugs. “I – you go ahead. I – uh, seeyou tomorrow?” He risks a glance at Stiles and sees him nod slowly, almost disappointed.

“Sure.” Stiles says, pocketinghis phone. “See ya.” Derek watches him walk away with one lastwave, follows him with his eyes as Stiles gets on his Jeep. Hedoesn’t turn on the engine, though, just stays there, hands on thesteering wheel, breathing in and out.

Derek doesn’t know what does it –if the look on Stiles’ face or if he’s just too tired after all thistime wanting and wondering– but one minute he’s watching Stiles mutter something to himselfand the next he’s sprinting across the room and towards Stiles’car. “Stiles!” He knocks on the window, watches as Stiles’ faceturns surprised and smiles. “I – do you wanna go on a date? Withme? Tonight?”

Stilesblinks and then he grins, brightly. “Of course.” He says. “Ithought you’d never ask.”

“In mydefense,” Derek says, smiling back, “I thought you had agirlfriend.”

“Fairenough.” Stiles concedes. “But in my defense, you lookreally cute when you’re tired and that’s just really unfair.”

Dereklaughs, leaning over the window to press a kiss against Stiles’cheek. “Meet you at the coffee shop in two hours?”

Stilesbrings one hand to rest over the spot Derek just kissed, eyesshining and a beautiful smile on his face. “I’ll see you there.”

–

Even afterthey start dating, Derek keeps making Stiles exercise but less at thegym and more at home. On his bed.

[hopestallion]

Loser prt.1

Disclaimer: I neither own Sense8 nor do i own Bangtan. I just own this idea and the Reader(insert)

You lose what matters to you the most. Your cluster has to save your life and hold the shards of your heart.

The poll on my twitter decided for a dark chapter, Jimin and Hoseok centered. Though i don't like it much and i had to write it in a rush. I am going to have it have another part so it can make more sense.

Always welcoming you guys feedback.

P.S: this was not beta-ed

Laughter carried through the house, accompanied by music. Sunlight filtering through curtains, playing over hardwood floor. Occasionally interrupted by a leg or arm, that crossed paths with the sunbeam. “You seem much happier, than before boo.” She was seated across from you. Holding a glass of brownish liquor.

You giggled, as the song came to an end. “Do you ever miss your home, mémère?” you asked, purposefully using one of the French terms for grandmother. She wasn’t really your grandmother, neither was she French. But she had raised you in your parent’s stead. Even though you didn’t know how she came to be with your family. And everyone seemed to avoid the question. You could guess.

“She’s from New Orleans… she’s quite a distance from home” While your mémère took her time to answer your question, bringing the glass of ‘probably Jack Daniel’s’ to her lips. Your gaze traveled only a little distance from her face. Right behind her stood one of the possibly most beautiful men, you’d ever seen. If it had happened for the first time ever, you would have been shocked. By now you were used to it.

“I don’t even know what it looks like anymore. It’s been truly too long” she said, and you took note of the change in accent. Sometimes your mémère would fall back into her New Orleans accent, infused with heavy French terms. Other times she’d be reminded, that she no longer is from there. And that’s when she’d come back to her Icelandic acquired accent. You found it incredibly sad, especially when you loved her original accent so much.

“She’s a good liar…” he leaned forward, crossing his arms over the back of the sofa. You pulled your legs up to your chest in response. Of course, he’d see through her. Often, he’d say. “Lying is what I do best”, “Lying is my forte” you wondered if he wasn’t the most honest of you all, after all. “I miss home sometimes…” you didn’t know why you said it. Usually trying your best to avoid that topic.

“You know you can’t think like that, little wolf.” Another endearment, that she brought with her from her home. Growing up in a town, that had thick roots for Voodoo. It was no surprise, that she sometimes reverted to those old myths. You still remembered every single one of them. Most nights, they were the only thing, that kept you going. Even now, you held tight to her myths and stories. The magic, you knew couldn’t exist in a world like yours. But then you’d look at what had happened in less than a year. And you wonder how true it is.

Your mémère got up from her seat and put the now empty glass down. Why don’t you pick another song, to twirl your skirts to. And I’ll prepare dinner? Any wishes?” you shook your head in response. “I think I might sit outside for a while? The weather seems nicer than most days.” After all it was spring. The season, where most people would find joy. Iceland however somehow managed to depress people. Maybe it was the short amount of night, or the vast amount of sun for the short span of time. You never truly understood why.

“Don’t you dare jumpin’ outta the balcony” she yelled over her shoulder, as she already made her way to the kitchen. You chuckled to yourself and pushed the balcony doors wide open. A gust of wind passing you. And ruffling the curtains to either side of you. Your dress flaring up with the wind. “I don’t mind that view” his cheeky words caught you by surprise. Reprimanding him would have had a hold, if he hadn’t already seen you naked at this point.

Outside, you laid down on one of the tanning chairs. Pulling out your phone from the pocket in your dress. You never understood why most dresses didn’t have pockets. Did people really think, women didn’t need to store shit, while on the go? To your luck your mémère had sewn you pockets into almost every article of clothing. Only refraining from doing so to your panties. Your bras did have tiny pockets. She had winked at you, calling it the safest place to hide money. She wasn’t that far off.

Pulling up your phone and putting it to your ear. You replied to him. “Not like you haven’t seen me naked, already” his cheeks colored in a rosy hue. “Can’t pull up one on you, can I? he replied and sat down across from you. You didn’t have to wonder where he was or what he was doing. You blinked once, standing in the middle of a meeting room. “How are you talking to me, without looking like a lunatic?” you asked curious. None of you had had figured out yet, how to keep the connections separate. Of course, he would be the one to figure it out.

“I don’t know, you’re the only one it worked with so far.” He said and leaned forward, replying to one of the questions directed to him. “How long can you keep it up?” mischief was playing in your tone. The only reaction he showed in his physical body, was a raise of his eyebrow. The manager kept on explaining the new concept of his movie. While you decided to test out his boundaries. “Let’s hope, you’re not too vocal, right Jimin?”

You sat down on his lap, spread legged. Hands reaching out to rip apart the nice pressed dress shirt, he was wearing. Sure enough, none of that really happened, but it was hard to decipher between each. Especially when you could feel both as a sensate. “What are you doing?” he hissed, as his hands grabbed for your hips. Your response easy enough, a jut of your hips. He gritted is teeth, when you let your hands wander down his chest. Nails scratching past nipples, that were slowly hardening underneath your fingers. Lips pressing to his ear. “I’m pretty sure you’re familiar with this procedure.”

Jimin was about to warn you, to not go too far. Even though, he was gripping your hips harder. When you suddenly looked up in shock. “What’s going on?” he could hear the panic in your voice, instantly killing any upcoming arousal. “(Y/N)?” he asked, but you were too occupied, with whatever was happening on your side. “Mémère, what’s going on?” you asked, as she pulled you into the house and towards the bedroom. Jimin stumbling behind her, as her hand was curled around your wrist. You were trading places inconsequentially. Your perception mixing and muddling with one another.

“Your father knew something was going to happen, eventually. We didn’t know how soon or late. We of course hoped for later” she said and turned to the wall. There was a huge portrait, you’d always found tacky. It was a family picture, your father, your brothers, your mother, mémère and you. But almost no one was left. “I still don’t understand” you said. She pulled down the picture, showing a panel in the wall. “What the hell?” she pushed in a combination of numbers. The wall sliding to the side. Then she reached for the night stand. Knelt and pulled out the drawer. Reaching into the empty nightstand.

Once back on her feet, you saw the dark form of the gun on her hand. She pulled out the magazine and checked for the bullets, then clicked it back in. “We taught you how to use it. Now you will have to, little wolf” your face paling. “Mémère what’s going on?” you needed answers. Especially with a hidden way out of the house, a loaded gun and not much time. You hadn’t even noticed how things had changed. When things had changed. “They know what you are, once they find you. You will be dead, little wolf.” She said and pulled a duffle from beneath her bed. “We were always prepared for this. Your papa and I” she said. Pressing the handles of the duffle bag into your hand.

Her hands came up to cup your face. Her lips pressing against your forehead. A gesture you had come to see as a sign of love. A light in dark nights, filled with nightmares. A sign of unconditional love, when you’d been the only survivor of the fire. A sign of solidarity, when your father had turned his back on you. “It sounds like you’re not coming with me, mémère….” She smiled at you, a smile you knew was meant to calm you. “She knows she can’t. She’s gonna distract them, so you can run for it” Jimin stood to your right again. “You can’t be serious!” you didn’t care you’d look like a lunatic. You wouldn’t leave her behind.

“It’s one of your cluster, right?” she smiled at you even softer, than before. “If you are birthed already, you will be fine. I know that” she gently turned you around and pushed you to the exit. “I can’t see you, because all I am connected to is her. But you probably can hear me. Protect her. Protect one another” You were about to protest, when gunshots rang through the apartment and the door that had been opened in the wall, slid close. Your hands ready to drop the gun and the duffle, to bang against the wall. Abandoning your family, was not an option. The first time you had not been given a choice, but this time? Like hell would you, leave her behind.

Before you could drop anything though, two hands held each of yours. “Her sacrifice will be in vain, if they get to you too.” Your eyes traveled up the pale hands. Meeting with dark brown eyes, framed by black hair. It was freshly washed and hang in wet strands down his face. “He’s right. If they get to you, not only will her sacrifice be meaningless. But they’ll also get to the rest of us.” Teeth buried in your lower lip you nodded. Would never be able to forgive yourself, if they got to anyone from your cluster, because of you.

“Let’s get you out of here first. “you stood behind Hoseok’s computer chair, watching as his fingers flew over the keyboard. “Gotta say your old man, he’s got some style” he said as he typed in more code. “You mean paranoid…” you crossed your arms in front of your chest. There weren’t many good words between him and you. After all you hadn’t seen him in years. “I got through. You still have your phone, right?” you nodded your head. “I hacked into it, so I can pin your location.” He explained. Jimin stood to his other side and watched carefully, as the red pin you were stood still. “You walk ahead, till I tell you otherwise” Hoseok directed, watching as the pin that was you walked ahead.

You used the flashlight of your phone to shine on the ground and walk ahead. The duffle slung across your shoulder you wished you’d put on pants. It would have been easier to carry the gun that way. Even though it wasn’t very wise, to put guns into the back of your pants. “Stop now.” Hoseok’s voice came from your right. Even though he wasn’t physically there, you knew he saw what you saw. As you saw what he saw. “To the right” you mumbled to yourself and touched the walls. Feeling the curve of the corner you followed it and started walking again.

“Just a little further, then left” he instructed, and you followed once more. “At the end of this hallway, is a seeming dead end.” He said, and you nodded. “I’m going to hack into the surveillance camera and see if the coast is clear. But it should be. Whatever you do, don’t go out before I tell you to.” Not like you even knew how to get through the wall. You were pretty sure, it was either by touch or some passcode again.

The sudden eruption of voices and footsteps was what had you press against the wall behind you. You still had to wait for Hoseok’s confirmation of a clear coast. When your hand caught a lose stone and pressed it inside. It was shear panic, what had caused the accident. The wall behind you sliding to the side and you tumbling out onto the sand. The wall slid close before you, cutting of screams and yells. “What the fuck! (Y/N)” Hoseok cursed, but you didn’t have much time to give him any thought. Right in front of you were three men in black suits. Drawn guns directed at your face. While your own, laid uselessly a few meters away from yourself. Your duffle to your right, where you couldn’t reach it easily either.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Hoseok cursed, his hands slamming down on the table. “What do we do now?!” him and Jimin looked at one another helplessly. “I just need a bit…” you said. Their attention snapping back to you. “What do you mean?” the three of you standing where the gun laid. Looking down on you, at gun point. “If I could get to the gun, I could take them.” You replied. “But it’s too far for me to reach…” Jimin lifted his hand to his chin and looked from you to the men in the suits. He walked around them and nodded to himself. “You just need a little distraction, right?”

“We have seven minutes if anything. When I said your old man had some style, I meant the way the house was designed. Once it was locked as a break in, the house would give you a limited time frame. If the exit from the hidden wall is activated. It locks down everyone inside” the hacker explained. His hand running through his still damp hair. “And activates a timer…” Jimin continued his sentence. “Blowing up everyone and the house in pieces. So, there would be no saying if anyone survived or not” you could not leave your mémère in a house, that was going to self-implode. “I have to go back.”

“Seven minutes, she gave you to survive this and help us stay alive. If you go back, you get caught or die? It would make her last minutes meaningless” Jimin knew your pain, he could feel it. It was different than wishing condolences. Or telling someone you knew how you felt. You felt it, sensates knew, because it was their pain too. “What now? I won’t make it to the gun, without decorating the beach with my brain.” The only way for you to cope with whatever was going on, was to hold onto the here and now. Sure, enough the happenings would come after you. One way or another.

“Can I?” Jimin asked. You nodded and watched as he took your place on the ground. Naturally, all of that only happening in your head. While for the men nothing changed and it all looked like seconds passing. You watched as Jimin schooled his features and got into his role. “Whatever he’s paying you. I can pay you thrice the amount….” He said and sat a little up. The men didn’t seem much impressed with his words. Even though some of them hesitated. “After all you’re married…” he looked at the one who was pointing the gun clear at his face. He didn’t wear a ring, but he had a tan line. Speaking volumes about his private life. “You wouldn’t want to be caught for murdering me, right? Because there will be people looking for me.” Jimin didn’t move much, but his face held all the emotion it needed. The knowledge of someone, knowing what he was doing.

“My father built a safe build into the house, it’ll blow up everything and everyone inside. You think he cares who he kills? He doesn’t. And one day? He might kill me, but he also might come for those who killed me. If he can dispose of his own daughter just like that, don’t you think he’s gonna slaughter all you hold dear? Everything, because you got hired to shoot someone. Ain’t worth it if you ask me.” It was a split second of hesitance. You didn’t need more.

Grabbing the gun and uncocking it. Everything moved faster than you expected it to. After all people said, the moment of death was the slowest. Instead you held the man around the neck. Dodging the bullet of his two other goons with his body. You didn’t care for the blood splatters, as you pulled the trigger, two-gun shots for the right one. Dropping him dead like a fly. Then three for the other. The only reason the beach had been not a bad choice for an exit. Even though there was almost to none hiding point for you, there was also none for your enemy.

“You have only four minutes left to leave” Hoseok reminded you. “I know.” You checked them for ammunition and took two of their guns. Picked up your duffle bag and started the short track towards the parking lots around the house. You opened the car door of the black vehicle that stood in the parking lot. Wondering why people always chose cars like that to blend in. When cars like that screamed, “weird”. You pulled the trigger twice more. Thankfully only one driver in the car and no one else. It could have been different. The odds for once in your favor.

You slipped into the car and closed the door behind you. Before scooting across the passenger’s seat, unbuckling the dead body and pushing him out the open driver’s door. Uncaring for the blood on the steering wheel, or the one smeared on the side of the window. You closed the door and buckled in. Until you realized you didn’t know how to drive a car. In all the years your father had prepared you for almost everything. He’d never prepared you for a fucking car. Not that you could blame him, when you remembered the flames and the stench of burning leather.

“I don’t know how to drive!” you said and looked around yourself. “Well guess who can?” finding yourself on the passenger’s seat again, as Taehyung turned the key in the ignition. “Tae?” you blinked owlishly at the other. “I was preparing for an upcoming race.” He explained, and you nodded your head. As he swiftly maneuvered the car through the streets. “Where to now?” he asked and looked around the dashboard. His slanted eyes narrowing on the gps built in. “Can you hack into it?” he asked. Making you realize that Hoseok and Jimin were both in the backseat of the car by now. “Can I hack into it? I’m an all access kind of guy” he replied and let his fingers once again, magically move across his keyboard.

“Jiminie and I, we prepared for something like this. We got in touch with Namjoon and the others. For the soul reason, that if something might happen. We’d have a backup plan.” He explained and caused the GPS to turn on. A location loading on the screen and directing Taehyung through the streets. “We purchased a house in Italy. It’s under neither of our names, so no one would come looking for it.” He explained. “How am I going to travel to Italy. I am pretty sure they’re waiting for me at the airport. If it’s BPO who’s doing all this…” your mémère made it sound like it wasn’t the typical enemy your father, had made during his dark days. Or well darker than now anyway. You didn’t turn around, even though the sound of the explosion traveled a mile behind you. You didn’t want to acknowledge it yet.

“Did you check the content of the duffle bag?” Hoseok asked, making you unzip it and looking through. “There is a lot of cash. A change of clothes… Another round of ammunition. And….” You pulled out an envelope with papers, a passport and a new ID out. “She fucking knew…” you bit down on your lip, to not let the feelings envelope you just yet. Once you were out of the situation yes. But not right now, when anything could happen.

Hoseok changed seats with you, looking at the papers with your eyes. He took note of the names, the numbers and dates. To make sure he’d clear the right passport. “You should be able to get through customs like that. Get rid of the guns while you’re at it. Can’t travel with those and will draw suspicion no matter what.” You agreed and made Taehyung stop the car at the side road. Looking to either of your side and having made sure there was no camera surveillance, you dropped them to the side of the road. Quickly getting back in the car and letting Taehyung take control of the car again.

Once you arrived at the airport, Taehyung reluctantly said his goodbyes. As he had a race to go to and some money for his family to ear. “I’ll be okay, I am pretty sure either of you have some more pressing matters to attend to. “Nah, I’ll make sure you’re on the plane… and later out of customs” Hoseok let his hand fall on your shoulder squeezing it a little. “You’ll get through this. We will…” he said and sent you a soft smile, before vanishing to his room in Moscow. Where he was currently residing.

“I’ll stay with you, I have a day off and nothing much to do anyway.” Jimin said and took hold of your hand. Seeing as you’d changed in the airport bathroom and had scrubbed all the blood away, from the most important places. You’d put on an oversized sweater and some jeans. The sweater covering your hands and therefore, only you could see your held hand “That’s not true, you were in the middle of a meeting…” you said and walked away from check-in, towards the security check. “It was just my manager talking me into another movie. Nothing that can’t be fixed with flowers and a few text messages” he said, and you smiled. It was sweet of him to want to be there for you.

Through the last check in and boarding, you kept it together. Holding yourself as well together as possible. Until you were lead to a first-class seat, that was built as a cube. You hadn’t flown with the newly built planes yet and never would have first class anyway. But guessed it was Hoseok, granting you a few hours of peace. Once seated and the plane took off. You couldn’t help the tears spilling over your lower lashes. “I just abandoned her” he mumbled to yourself, as the tears kept falling. Changing the baby blue color of your sweater into a greyish darker blue. “She did what she could to save you.” Jimin whispered and pulled you into his lap and chest.

No one would understand the connection you had to the other seven people. That you could feel them hold you and touch you. While for anyone else, you were just curled in on yourself. But here you were, seated in Seokjin’s chair in his office. While he held your sobbing face against his neck. Standing in Namjoon’s hold, as he comfortingly brushed across your back. Your head in Jeongguk’s lap, who sang softly over your sobs. Taehyung holding your hand tightly over the gear shift, trying to press all his comfort into the curl of his fingers. Laid on Hoseok’s bed, his body curled around yours. Yoongi’s headphone put over your ears, while he held your body in a back hug, on top of his bed. Or Jimin seated in your first-class seat, holding you in his lap, while he brushed your hair with his fingers. “I lost her…” you mumbled through the thick of your tears, as you sobbed silently.

The stewardess had been instructed to leave you be, by her higher-ups. Though you didn’t know, Hoseok had put that request into your ticket, when he’d booked it for you. A few hours later, had a shy Stewardess, shake your shoulder. Helping you adjust and out of your seat. So, you could leave the plane with everyone else. You had made it so far, safe and sound onto Italian ground.

Taehyung appeared on your side again. “Hobi-hyung told me you need a driver” he smiled cheekily at you. Not commenting on how red and puffy your eyes were. Instead he held your hand and lead you outside of the airport. A car pulling up and a young woman getting out. Holding a clip board and a pen for you to sign. “Miss (L/N).” you nodded your head and showed her your passport, for the formalities, before you signed for the car. “That’s some expensive taste you have, Mr. Jung” you looked over to Hoseok who just shrugged his shoulders. “Wasn’t my pick” Jimin leaned over your shoulder, his chin in the juncture between shoulder and neck. “It was mine” he said and couldn’t help himself but press a kiss to your neck, while he was at it.

“It’s a three-hour ride, so I hope you’re going to be fine.” Taehyung explained and once again took the seat. At least in your mind’s eye. For everyone else, it looked like you got seated behind the wheel. The GPS magically loaded again, or more likely Hoseok hacked into the car’s system. The car rumbled to life, while at the same time a tune started to fill the car. A song none of them really knew. In a language neither of them was supposed to know. Taehyung pressed the button to pull down the roof of the car. While the tune started to gain on volume. Only in each of your heads, but it was a beautiful tune, a tune asking for a road trip.

Jeongguk came to sit behind you in the car. “We like to party!” he started to sing loudly. Even though he could be in key, he decided to be out of key. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah” you continued the lyrics. Which you couldn’t know, but Jeongguk did and so all of you did as well. “Aye man you better slow it down” Taeyhung jumped in. The car filling with every member of your cluster, as all of them sang along to the song, only one of you could hear. You couldn’t help but to smile, as you heard some of them off key, some of them on point. Each of you stumble over the lyrics, as Jeongguk couldn’t memorize the rap parts. The song carrying into the later afternoon, as the car vanished behind corner after corner. Driving along the coast of Italy, a lone woman singing loudly to no music at all.

At least to the naked eye.

But who really cared for the naked eye?

If you wanna vote for the upcoming chapter, chat or want me to show progress you can head over to my twitter. I alternate between @hopestallion which is my side twitter and was initially made for my writing stuff and AU's while @_l110492_ is my main and i did the poll there. :D you are welcome to talk and chat over there too ^^

xxx Lana

P.s: PLEASE CHECK OUT SENSE8 ON NETFLIX; I SWEAR YOU WON'T BE DISAPPOINTED!!

[lostedges]

Mary, the New house

The old house was it’s own chapter. Time capsule of a childhood which wasn’t perfect but was mostly uninterrupted. The new house marked a move into a more adult world. New house, new furniture. All the saturated time of the old house wiped away. I helped to fill the skip, in relays with the three brothers.

My grandfather, slowly sinking in dementia and removed from the old house was out of his element. His memory paths confused by routes which were no longer there, looking in the wrong cupboards for things he couldn’t explain. His well-aimed tissues found their way into the new electric fire, frightening us all. I saw the confusion in his eyes and it scared me, feeling compassion as I might for a child.  

I remember Mary in the kitchen. She would bring drinks, bring food. Pop with ice cubes cracking in the foam.  I would help her sometimes. Peeling potatoes, hands dipping in cool water. Cutting welshcakes from rolled out dough with an orange plastic beaker. I would turn the handle as she fed the meat grinder with onion and cuts of fatty beef. Geraniums in the window, a magic sink outside the kitchen door which would bring plants back to life. A pan of lard or dripping, congealing on the hob. A kindly mild presence of support and gentle friendship. And food, lots of food. Jam tarts every Sunday, the best pastry I’ve eaten. Shepherds pie from the grinder, brown chips with fish fingers and beans. Potato scallops and grilled spam. Adrian liked his chips pale and white, drinking vinegar off the plate.

The house was a refuge of care. My parents divorced a few years after the move. I took it hard and missed lots of school. I had a sore throat for a year. I was exposed, embarrassed and ashamed and needed security. I was lucky to have it. I would pass my time in the living room, watching films, watched in turn by young Rembrandt on the wall in a repaired frame. Or in the quiet space of the front room, with my imagination. A print of Vermeer’s lacemaker on the wall, with it’s drizzled threads of paint, and a tiny Pieta copy sent for from the Vatican. Another Mary holding her son. The room smelt of ironing. Mary would iron in the window, watching the world go by and starching shirts ready for the working brothers while they still worked, still lived. In a short space of time the house of refuge became a scene of sadness and death.

My grandfather passed shortly after the move. The doctor insisted he gave up smoking, and he immediately got a chest infection and died. I missed his quiet presence, the shuffling walk from room to room, rounded bent back, crumpled brown like a dusty elephant who had learned to forget. Sad but also relief from the living knowledge that the mind becomes disordered, loses it’s co-ordinates and wanders in times and places that do not match the space in which it is housed.

A few years later Adrian started to get headaches again.

It was a slow dawning for me that things would never be right again. It wasn’t getting better. Headaches at first, then trouble sitting on his left side. He kept it from us, from me. We had fireworks in November, and he came out to see them. He couldn’t see them, though I didn’t know. He fell that night, tall man down, my heart following his stumbling arc. He fell again, trapped in the bathroom. In hospital, when the nurses brought him food, they took it away cold because he didn’t know it was there. He came home to bed and didn’t get out. Months passed. I would come home from school and say a weak hello, until eventually he had turned away, and Mary would meet me at the door and divert me next door with a smile. One Sunday I woke to an empty house. It was a while before I realised that the noise through the wall was his breathing, and I was alone there when it stopped. At the time I felt peace and relief, even gratitude for his passing out of pain. It was later that the huge loss slowly unfolded within me. He had been so much a presence in my small life. Always funny, teasing, provoking young outrage and laughter. Every Saturday he’d walk from the old house to ours and tell us a joke, meandering minutes long, and half the time forget the punchline. His drawings were the first I envied, wanted to emulate. He would draw his workmates with his finger on our misty cold windows and make illustrations as cards, in a charming distinctive hand, like Sheppard or Ardizzone. I innocently thought, because he told me so, that Golly’s were black because they were little miners who mined for swedes in the south wales valleys. I loved him dearly.

At the funeral, his brother Nigel, my uncle, who had previously been a fairly distant and serious presence, opened a door of humour that I gratefully fell through. We had been friends for a few years. He took me to watch Cardiff rugby club play Fiji in 1985, and Fiji’s game against Wales a few weeks later, where I saw with my own eyes that Terry Holmes was super human. I fell in love with Rugby and my uncle at the same time. For my birthday he bought me a season ticket to ‘the greatest rugby club in the world’, so said an Australian journalist following another episode in the club’s unbeaten run against his national side. From the funeral on, we met more as friends, him less guarded and parental. Saturdays with Nige were a highlight in a dark time. There was rugby, all across south wales in the car, Llanelli, Newport, Swansea but also Abertillery, Aberavon, Dunvant, Maesteg. The hostility of Neath, Neath, Neath, or Pooler, Pooler in that beautiful park. The urgent need of Pontypridd to beat the City team on a Wednesday night in October. Wintergreen and cigar smoke, in the autumnal, Hallowe’en air. There was more, of course. Car rides with music I wouldn’t otherwise have heard. Mozart and Cat Stevens, Beethoven and Neil Young. He talked to me about books. Books I was reading and books he loved. Hesse, Wodehouse and Heinlen: Arrakis and Shikasta.

When Mary died in that October in 1994, the house was lost and all of the family life that I spent there. Part of my life was over. My friendship with Nige lasted until I was married, when shortly afterwards an aneurism gave way on his way to bed. A few years ago, my wife bought me a ticket to a spiritualist. She told me there were two tall men there to meet me, both pointing at their heads.

[yeolsmuffin]

Married to a Monster - Twenty [M]

Paring: jonginXreader, minseokXreader

Word Count: 7.8k

Genre: Angst, fluff, mature || husband!Jongin, best friend!Jongdae, best friend!Minseok

Summary: Being forced into a marriage with your first love/childhood best friend is messy - especially when he was the sole reason you attempted to kill yourself and the reason your body is riddled with scars. Old wounds were opened but you pushed yourself to figure things out, if not for yourself, then for your deceased sister whose death seemed to keep haunting you and Jongin.

Trigger warning: talks of self-harm, descriptions of scars, and trauma. Light smut.

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen [M] | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty [M] | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two |

"I don't want you to go."

"I will be with you both every time the sun shines, the birds sing, and the wind blows," she said touching your nose before disappearing.

You were crying so hard that you didn't even realize you woke up until Jongin sat up and wrapped his arms around you, "What's wrong?" He asked frantically. He searched your face, trying to decipher what was wrong but he couldn't so he just pressed himself closer to you.

You couldn't answer him as you gripped tightly onto his shirt. "I love you," you said instead as you cried and you swore you could still smell Hani's perfume.

Things slowly began to change as the seasons began to.

You quit school for a short time, pouring all of your energy into your family's business and while it wasn't what you wanted, your parents were happy.

While Jongdae and Minseok would always be your best friends, you saw them a lot less. Minseok in particular – who you would occasionally see leave and come home but you kept your distance. The two of you still seemed to be healing and you didn't want to reopen any wounds. Instead of hanging out with them and Baekhyun, you became close to Kyungsoo who was quiet but a lot like you in ways. He had loved Hani and lost her, just as you had, he enjoyed writing where you enjoyed painting, and the two of you both had a deep love for classical music.

Branching out from your two friends wasn't easy but in a way, you knew it had to be. For so many years they had held you up and now you were finally standing on your own feet.

Outside of Kyungsoo, you would go on runs with Yixing twice a week and you had even made a friend named Kat that you met when you and Kyungsoo had volunteered at the nearby animal shelter.

Life had started to finally pick up and while you thought things would progress between you and Jongin, they felt as if they were going in slow motion while the world around you spun.

Your old bedroom had been turned into yours and Jongin's master bedroom the way it was supposed to be and his room was now your art room. Even with sharing a bed, cuddling at night, kissing in the morning, and sweet 'I love you's', you didn't feel like you had reached the 'boyfriend and girlfriend' stage.

Sometimes you guys would go out to dinner but the relationship never seemed to get more than surface deep and it was starting to bother you. Technically, the two of you were already married but you didn't feel like his wife.

It didn't help that the two of you had years of sexual tension to compensate for that Jongin made no move to remove.

In a desperate attempt for some advice you had once brought it up to Kyungsoo and he looked like he almost had a heart attack.

"You're like a little sister. There is no way I'm giving you advice on seducing Kai," he had told you.  

But it was more than seducing him. You just wanted to get to that point in your relationship. Things needed to evolve because something just felt off and as if there was no passion or fire behind the love Jongin had for you lately.

He was loving you gently and that was the last thing you wanted. You wanted a passionate and fiery love that made you explode. You were sick of being the one that everyone was too afraid to break. It made sense why you were that in the past, but you weren't the same girl anymore.

Was it too soon get to that point with Jongin?

You thought it wasn’t as you had almost reached that point with Minseok not that long ago - and the thought made your heart clench uncomfortably. 

Sex could complicate things but it could also open things up and at this point, you were certain it was the only thing you could do to get to where you wanted to be in the relationship.

So by the time Jongin's birthday rolled around, your friend Kat had convinced you to surprise him.

"I don't know, Kat, he looks at me like I might break," you said with a sigh while the two of you looked around the lingerie shop.

She glanced back at you with a devilish smirk, "This will help!" And she pulled at a red see-through fabric, "How can he think you're breakable if you're dressed like this?" And she held up a tiny thong.

You cringed at the thought of Jongin seeing you in something and as you did, you groaned. If you cringed at the idea of him seeing you in something then you definitely weren't in the place you needed to be. It was common for a married woman to be excited to dress sexy for her husband, but for you, you weren't sure how to feel.

It was a topic that you and Jongin hadn't even skated around talking about nor had his hands ever went anywhere even remotely dangerous. Always on top of your clothes and held firmly.

"Relax there, puppy," Kat said gently as she grabbed your hand to release it from the silk lingerie you had unintentionally grabbed and knotted up in your hand. "It will work out, okay? You two have been in love with each other for so long. Maybe he's just scared you aren't ready for it, mm? If you show him you are, there's no way he'll deny you."

You gave her a look. She hadn't known the whole story or the way Jongin had treated you in the past. The thing was, it was just that – the past. There was no need to relive it when you wanted to move past it. Since Kat wasn't around for it all, it was best to just summarize that you and Jongin had a falling out and didn't get along for a short period. Kat didn't understand why Jongin had treated you like such a fragile person but even if she had, you were certain that her advice would be the same: to take your relationship to the next level in an attempt to deepen the bond.

So, you let her have this one and bought the deep blue almost see-through baby doll dress that actually made you feel good about your body when you put it on.

It hit just below your bottom and had a ruffled edge that made you want to spin in circles and watch how it flowed around you.

Regardless of how good it made you feel, you were a shaking mess on Jongin's birthday.

The two of you had dinner together at your favorite restaurant and while you had chosen a simple black dress, you were suddenly insecure about every piece of showing skin – no doubt because you would be showing a lot of skin to Jongin tonight.

"Are you okay?" Jongin asked quietly while reaching his hand out towards your chin. His hand grasped it, tilting your face in multiple directions as if to inspect you.  

The hand that held your wine glass was shaking around the stem and you couldn't find a way to stop it. "I'm okay," you said with a voice that wasn't anywhere near convincing.

He let out a small breath and dropped his hand, "Just because it's my birthday doesn't mean you have to pretend to be okay. If something is wrong, tell me."

His eyes were watching you carefully. "Do you love me?" You asked in a small voice.

"What kind of question is that?" His voice held a tone of hurt, "Of course I do. More than anything. Everything."

"Are you in love with me?"

Reaching for your hand across the table, he smiled. "I've been stupid in love with you for so long that I don't know what not loving you is like."

As you released your wine glass, you grasped his hand. "Lately since everything has... gotten less complicated, I feel like we're in limbo."

Raising a brow, he urged you to continue.

"I feel like we're not moving further in our relationship," you trailed off.

You can see the panic as it made its way onto Jongin's face and instantly, you felt bad for not prefacing your words more.

"I'm not wanting to stop, Jongin. I want to be with you," and with that he relaxed. "I just don't feel like a couple."

Taking your words in, he bit his lip a few times. "What makes you feel like we aren't?"

"Well, I know we are but it's like everything's too platonic. I know you kiss me but it's never..." you trailed off again stopping yourself from saying what your mind had processed into the sentence. It's never like how Minseok kissed you. The difference between the two men was that while Minseok knew you had a past full of self-harm, he wasn't constantly afraid that his touch would cause it. He knew better than that and the few times he had kissed you, weren't held back. Jongin, on the other hand, knew that in the past he had said things to make you hurt yourself and that made you think he was afraid to touch you.

"Never what?" He wondered.

You hummed to yourself for a moment, thinking of a way to word your thoughts. "Never the way I imagine."

He nodded slowly. "I just want to be sure I don't go too fast. I don't want to rush this."

Looking off to the side, you sighed. "I don't think it would be rushing it just to be a little more passionate. You make this relationship so... safe."

"Y/N, don't you understand why?"

Nodding, you squeezed his hand. "I get it, I just want some passion. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to break. Can't you see that?"

But Jongin looked so broken. Even when he was with you. Even when he was smiling. The pain was etched into the fine lines of his face and while he was still young, he seemed so aged. Again, you weren't the only one affected by the actions you had taken. While you may not have been triggered by anything much anymore, it seemed Jongin and Minseok were still reeling - but in different ways. Minseok would touch you and love you, but he was afraid of what you would do to yourself. Jongin loved you but was afraid that his touch and love would make you do something to yourself.

How did trust and people bounce back after someone they love had tried to take their life? It seemed you had bounced back better than those around and the thought made you sick. Hurting yourself hadn't only been a punishment to yourself but a punishment to everyone who loved you.

Putting yourself into Minseok's shoes, you couldn't have imagined standing by while you knew your best friend had a problem. The fear and worry that you would experience would eat you alive. You would be too afraid to leave him alone and you would constantly survey his body for fresh marks. Just the way Minseok had done with you.

Something like that traumatizes those you love even if you think it won't affect them.

Jongin hadn't been there to see the worst of the times. He hadn't seen the blood or you standing on the bridge that day but it was the knowledge alone that was enough to drive him crazy.

You couldn't take it back and you couldn't make it better.

A thousand times you could say you're okay and you forgive him but Jongin would still look in the mirror and see the monster that drove you to hurt yourself.

It reaffirmed that you needed to take your relationship more seriously. If you could show Jongin that you are okay and that you want to be with him in every way you can, maybe then he could free himself from the guilt. You didn't want to live with it anymore or think about it - so this had to be the first step.

"If I move too fast and ruin this, I would never forgive myself. I don't want to lose you again," he looked down at his lap for a moment. "I need you."

"Then don't treat me like I'm going to run away. I'm telling you that I'm not – no, I'm promising." Intertwining your fingers together, you brushed your fingers over his wedding ring. "It's your birthday. Just for one night treat me like you would have if none of this had happened. Embrace teenage Jongin's wants – even if just for now. Please. If you still think that I'm breakable after tonight, then we'll take it slow for as long as you want."

His eyes were dark with confusion and what you hoped was lust if he had caught onto your insinuation. "That's what you want?"

Shaking your head, you sighed. "It's your birthday. It's about what you want. But if it reassures you, yes, that's what I want. I want to be treated like your wife."

"I thought I did treat you like that," he mumbled.

"You do in a way but a husband and wife relationship goes further than cuddling innocently before bed," you said the words carefully, watching his eyes while you spoke and you could see the change as you finished.

Licking his lips, he looked at you with a heavy gaze. "There's no going back after that. Everything would be changed." Here you were, finally talking about sex but the two of you were gently skating around it.

You gave him a firm nod. "I know. That's what I want. I'm ready to be in a real relationship, Jongin." It had been at least two months since you had decided to end things with Minseok for good and while a part of you loved him still, a part of you always wood. Just like part of Jongin would always love Hani. You now had known that you and Minseok weren't meant to be so, it was time. Time to let it go. Time to close off any loose ends.

He narrowed his eyes, "Not having sex doesn't make it any less real." You froze and so did Jongin. It was easier to talk about sex without mentioning it outright and now that Jongin had, it felt that much more real. He looked mortified at what he said and you were sure you looked the same when you felt his hand shake and he leaned across the table, "That's what you meant, right?" He whispered.

"Yes."

"That's what you want from me?"

Pausing for a moment, you and Jongin stared at each other in silence. Once you got the courage, you gave him a nod.

"Tonight?"

You nodded again and you didn't miss the way Jongin's adam's apple moved as he gulped.  

The rest of the dinner was surrounded by an awkward silence.

Once the two of you got into his car, Jongin sighed and looked at you. "I think I'm caught in trying to protect you from me. I don't mean to but I just don't want to do anything to jeopardize you, you know?"

Biting your lip a few times, you looked at Jongin. "Why does it seem that even though things have gotten simpler, that they've gotten even more difficult?"

For some reason, you thought the relationship between you and Jongin would click perfectly. That after years of loving each other, hating each other, and breaking each other that maybe you would fall into the perfect passionate and loving relationship. But that wasn't it.

Bringing his hand from the gear shift to your face, he grabbed your cheek lovingly. "I'll try to get to the point you want us at. You think sex will magically fix everything, we'll try okay?"

"It's not like we're virgins, Jongin," you were sure there was a bitter undertone to your words because while you didn't care that neither you or Jongin had saved yourself for each other, it still hurt that he had slept around so much in high school. It was even worse that you had to see and hear about it the whole time you were aching for him to just talk to you again.  

It made you thankful that you hadn't gone through with sleeping with Minseok because you couldn't have bounced back from that.

Jongin's eyes closed for a minute. "Y/N-"

"I just don't understand how you can go from fucking literally every girl in sight to not even being able to get to 'second base' with me. Stop treating me like your sister. We're supposed to be in love with each other, aren't we? If you can sleep with someone you don't love, surely you can sleep with someone you do love. See me like a woman for once." The anger was seeping out of you now and you didn’t even think to stop it.

He dropped his hand and you watched him clench his jaw. "You act like I have no sexual desire for you."

You crossed your arms over your chest like a pouting child. "That's how it feels."

You could practically hear his teeth grind together, "You know that's not how it is. I've wanted you since I was a hormonal fucking teenager." His tone was harsh and while it should have hurt you, it didn't. He was angry for the first time since you had been married to him – well, it was the first time it was directed at you. But it was starting to make you angry that Jongin wouldn't touch you – annoyed even. You were bitter, sexually frustrated, and outright confused.  

"Why are you holding back then?" And then the next words stumbled out before you could stop them. "Minseok was far more intimate-" you caught yourself finally and brought a hand to your mouth as you stared at Jongin in his eyes.

They darkened with something you couldn't catch and you could see his hand twitch. "Why don't you go be with Minseok then?" He muttered angrily.

Oh my god. You were having your first argument as a couple.

It almost made you want to smile that you were fighting and you would have had Jongin not been staring at you with such an intense gaze that you felt tears prick at your eyes. A fight meant that things were serious. "Jongin, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," and your voice started to tremble as you realized what you had done. You compared Jongin to Minseok and that's something you should never do. Comparing two of the loves of your life would be like Jongin comparing you to Hani – which he never did. Jongin made it his goal when you were younger to show you how you were different than Hani, not alike.

He fought his anger. You could see it boiling inside him but he fought the urge to say anything as the two of you sat in the parked car and tried to cool down from the heat of your first argument.

After a few moments, he reached out and gripped your hand, "I'm sorry too. I know you didn't mean that because I didn't mean what I said. You're right. I haven't been fair to you. Let's go home, okay? Let's go home and fix this. I'll make it right."

⇻☆☆☆⇺

Jongin drove one-handed, clutching your shaking hand the whole way.

So the two of you had your first fight, on Jongin's birthday, about sex.

It made you feel weird inside.

Mostly because you weren't used to a relationship because while you dated a few times when you were away at college the first two years, you were never in one like this. Most of those relationships were flings that you would end up ending because you couldn't commit. You didn't love any other guy – or girl for that matter. Jongin and Minseok were the only people you had ever pictured yourself with and that ruined you for anyone else.

This relationship was different and maybe that's why you were so unsatisfied. After all these years, your expectations were high.

Once the two of you got inside and made it to your room, Jongin gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. "I'm going to change and get ready for bed," he said with unsteady eyes.

Watching Jongin grabbing some clothes, you stood awkwardly by the dresser in your room. It was a normal nightly routine for you to get ready for bed in the master bathroom and Jongin in the hall bathroom since unlike a normal couple, the two of you weren't used to each other's bodies quite yet. Jongin hadn't even seen you in your underwear and even when you were wearing a towel, he'd avert his gaze.

It was odd because, at this point, you were used to people seeing your body as many times Minseok and Jongdae tended to your cuts when you were nearly naked.

Sighing to yourself when Jongin left, you walked into the closet and reached for the bag you had tucked away from Jongin's sight. Clutching it so tight the whites of your knuckles showed, you took the bag with you into the bathroom and locked the door.

It took you not one, not two, not even three, but four laps around the bathroom still in your dress and heels before you got the courage to take your clothes off and pull on the bra, panties, and matching babydoll lingerie. Wrapping your purple robe around your body so tight that you nearly lost circulation in your waist, you took your time washing your face and brushing your teeth.

Yeah, it was something you wanted but that didn't mean you weren't nervous.

Would Jongin even like your body?

It had been years since you were in even a bathing suit around him and then you hadn't been filled out the way you were now. Now you had even more insecurities. Certain parts of you that were too sharp and others that were far too squishy.  

As you poked at different parts of your body over your robe, you heard a knock on the bathroom door and it made you jump away from the death stare you had been giving yourself in the mirror. "Yeah?" You croaked out.

"Are you okay?" Jongin's voice said with a tremble. "You've been in there a while."

You hadn't realized that you had been in the bathroom staring at yourself so long until you looked down at your phone and your eyes grew wide. "I'll be out in a sec," you answered back.

Waiting until you heard Jongin's feet walking away from the door, you opened your robe once more to look at your lingerie clad body and you gulped. Was this too far?

You gripped at your hair and resisted the urge to yell. Why were you wearing this fucking stupid lingerie? Why did you listen to Kat?

You would burn it. That was the new plan. Maybe you and Jongin wouldn't even have sex and you could just sleep in the robe without him knowing what's underneath and then in the morning, you would take it to the backyard and throw it in the fire pit that was back there.

You nodded. That was the plan. Burn it.

"Oh my god, I'm crazy," you whispered to yourself as you wrapped the robe back around your body and tried to get the courage to unlock the door and step into the bedroom.

It took you three tries, but you eventually opened the door and stared at Jongin who had snapped his gaze up to you as he sat on his side of the bed, hugging a pillow.

For a moment, the two of you just kept your eyes locked but then he broke it as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment before reopening. He dropped the pillow and gestured gently for you to 'come here' so you did – slowly and nearly tripping over your feet a few times before deciding that you were for sure, cutting them off tomorrow. Who needed feet anyway? Not you.

When you started for your side of the bed, Jongin shook his head, and whispered a small "No, come here."

You obliged, walking over to his side and standing in front of his sitting body. Reaching out and gently grabbing your waist, Jongin pulled you into his lap in a quick instance. His legs were planted firmly on the floor and he adjusted you so that your legs straddled his waist and your chest was pressed against his.

He held you close just to listen to the sound of your heart before asking. "Why are you wearing a robe?"

"It's soft."

He laughed. "You never wear a robe to bed."

Wrapping your arms more firmly around his neck, you nuzzled into him. "I was under the assumption that we weren't going to bed," you said slowly in a small voice.

"Are you only wearing a robe?" He asked in a strained and seemingly horrified voice.

Pulling away from him, you felt your cheeks heat up as his hands on your waist were shaking. "No."

He nodded almost to himself as he tugged at the collar of the robe. "What's under here then?" His voice had turned suggestive and involuntarily your legs felt the need to tighten around him.

You shrugged, "I guess you'll just have to find out."

Releasing the collar from his grasp, Jongin's hands found your hair as his lips pressed against yours. It was a gentle kiss at first. Sweet and almost too sweet for the lingerie that you had underneath the plush robe. Eventually, his fingers began to twine into your hair and his lips got more violent, sucking against your own as he pulled you into him.

Your heart was racing the moment you felt him run his tongue along your bottom lip and you basically melted in his lap. You felt yourself growing limp underneath his hands that had roamed their way down to your cheeks. The air around you had turned hot and heavy in a way that you had yet to experience with Jongin. You were sure to crack underneath this pressure. This was the passion that you wanted, the passion you needed.

His kiss made you feel vulnerable but in the best way. The moment his tongue begged for entrance, you allowed it as you felt yourself grow wet – or wetter; You weren't sure because Jongin hadn't kissed you like this before.

Jongin wanted dominance in the kiss and you let him have it. Jongin had let you control too much in the relationship that you needed his control here in the bedroom.

You weren't entirely sure but you thought you could feel Jongin's arousal underneath you and it had you shaking.

Once his hands released your face, he trailed his lips down from your jaw to your neck, placing gentle kisses and bites to every bit of skin his lips moved across. A squeak escaped your lips making Jongin groan and bite down on the skin just above your collarbone. His hands were working at the tie of your robe before you could process what was going on and the second you felt the cold air against your barely covered skin, you froze.

Jongin did the same, pulling back and looking at your body. His eyes hardened and he groaned once more. "You bought lingerie? For me?"

His hands pushed the robe down your arms and you let it fall from your body. You looked sideways, "Who said it was for you? Maybe I've had this for a while."

He licked his lips and scoffed, his fingers pointing out a price tag that hung below one of your arms. "I somehow doubt that."

You looked at it in horror before Jongin grabbed it and snapped it from the thin material, his eyebrows raising at the price.  

"You paid way too much for this. You should have asked me to buy it for you."

"Says the guy whose hands never even grazed me sexually," you countered.

With a single raised eyebrow, his hands trailed up from where he had placed them on your waist to your sides before grazing over one of your breast gently all while he stared at you. "Can that start now then?"

Placing your hand over his, you squeezed, urging him to do the same as you moaned out. His other hand snaked around you, grazing your bottom for a moment before he kneaded the skin there gently. There was no doubt he was hard. You could feel him through his thin pajama pants and it made you roll your hips down onto him and squeeze tighter.

He moaned, dropping his head back for a moment as you rubbed yourself against him. "I'm an i-idiot," he stuttered out.

A breathy "why" fell from your lips.

"Because I didn't try to have you any sooner. It's going to be hard to restrain myself and I want to take this slow."

Grabbing onto his cheeks, you pulled his gaze to yours. "You think as my childhood best friend that you know every side of me, but this isn't one you know. I don't need slow and I sure as hell don't need you restraining yourself."

And that was all it took for the switch in Jongin to flip and within moments, he pulled the both of you up and had you pinned underneath him on the bed. His rough hands gripped your wrists as he kissed your breasts over the material of the lingerie. "Are you sure?" He asked, his voice being muffled. "This isn't a side of me that you know, either."

Pulling the straps of the lingerie and your bra down your shoulders, Jongin released your breasts, the cool air making your nipples harden even more than they already were from your arousal. He took turns, twisting each bud between his fingers in a mix of painful and delicious pleasure as you closed your eyes and moaned.

He replaced his fingers with his mouth, wrapping his lips around your nipple and suckling while one of his hands roamed down your lingerie, raising the ruffled bottom and dancing their way underneath your soaked panties.

A strangled noise came from the back of his throat as is finger rubbed its way along your soaked slit before he pressed it up into you.

Your body was on fire when Jongin's finger entered your core. Everything in you was tingling and you felt like you just kept getting wetter with his every movement.

You felt like you could come even though it was difficult to get you to come during sex.

He thrust his finger into you, curving it just the slightest as he pulled it in and out. It was slow at first but the moment you starting moaning and squirming underneath him, he picked up his pace. Jongin kissed his way down your stomach, pulling the lingerie up so he could kiss the bare skin. Nipping and licking at the skin of your hips, Jongin continued fingering you as he brought his mouth closer to your core.

You saw his eyes open and that's when everything seemed to go in slow motion. The second his eyes grazed your thighs, his finger stopped moving and you saw his eyes gloss over. He removed his finger and sat up on his knees, staring down at your thighs. You followed his gaze on your scarred legs.

They were worse off than your arms and while Jongin had seen your arms and often flinched at them, he never saw the real amount of damage you self-inflicted.

Scars coated your body in many places but the worst was your upper thigh – the only place you could truly hide cuts without worrying about them being seen. They were too high to be seen when you wore shorts but too low to be covered by any underwear.  

They weren't pretty.

Harsh scars of dark pink and white were scattered in every place that once had bare skin on the tops of your thighs.

It was the first time Jongin had seen them and you saw how it was affecting him.

You saw the way he started to shake and a tear fell from his eye and landed straight on your bare skin. "Jongin-"

"No," he sobbed out. "Don't comfort me."

His fingers grazed the bumpy scars and as he did so, his hand shot back as if he had been burned.  

"I've done this to you," he cried. "I'm so sorry."

Readjusting yourself to be covered, you sat up on your knees and reached for Jongin's face. "Jongin, please. It's over. It was a long time ago. Please don't let this change anything."

But he flinched away. "I don't want to touch you because look what I’ve done when I had been at a distance. Imagine what I can do with my own hands."

He looked terrified and you wiped at the hot tears that rolled down his cheeks. "No - it happened because you didn't touch me, Jongin. Your touch is good for me. It heals me. It helps me forget the past. I'm okay. Jongin, they're scars. Healed. They're healed. I'm healed."

It was like he couldn't hear you as he looked at his own hands. "This is why I've been moving so slow, I've been afraid. Afraid of this. Afraid of facing the reality that I really am the monster you told me I was. I don't deserve you."

His crying had you in tears as you watched him unravel in front of you. You tried to say anything to get him to calm down but he didn't.  

You had to beg him to hold you as you let him cry and be angry. It made you cry alongside him because you realized the mess you were truly in. You weren't the broken one anymore - it was Jongin now and the thought killed you. Hurting yourself had only ruined everyone else in the process and it made you hate yourself.

As you fell asleep with puffy eyed Jongin, you wondered how you would handle tomorrow and where this would place your relationship.

You had no idea what you would be to Jongin when you woke up the next morning.

⇻☆☆☆⇺

Before you could even process the night before, your phone went off and you struggled out of Jongin's vice grip hold to grab it.

Your heart stuttered in your chest when Minseok's picture showed up. Licking your lips, and looking at sleeping Jongin, you answered. "Minnie," you breathed out.

"Hey."

Instantly, you wanted to cry to him. Explain Jongin's break down and ask him for advice but you knew you couldn't. If you wanted to fully be over what you had with Minseok, you needed to leave him out of this. It wouldn't be healthy or fair to Minseok to get his help with Jongin.

"Come downstairs," his voice was like music to your ears and you hadn't realized how long you had gone without it. "I need to talk to you and Kai."

You nodded even though he couldn't see you, "Jongin is sleeping. Give me a minute to get dressed."

And Minseok said a quick goodbye before hanging up.

Discarding your lingerie from the previous night, you dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. You tried your best to cover up your puffy eyes and swollen face but Minseok knew you well and you were certain he would notice regardless

Minseok was waiting at the door, and the moment you let him in your body shook. You wanted to hug and embrace him but you knew you couldn't.

"Hey."

"Hey," you said back, looking over him.

He looked good. Like he had been eating well and not drinking so much and that thought made you feel better. His hand lifted up towards your face but he dropped it. "Are you okay?" His voice was tight with concern.

You gave him a half-hearted smile. "I'll figure it out, Minnie. Don't worry about me." There was no point in lying, he would know you weren't okay.

Directing you to the living room, Minseok urged you to sit down with him. "It's not like we stopped being best friends, Y/N. You can talk to me still."

"It's about Jongin and me and I don't want to do that to you."

He snorted. "That's nonsense. You're one of my main concerns. Tell me what happened, you look like a mess."

You rubbed your hands together and looked at Minseok's gentle face. "Jongin has some issues. I think he needs help. Our relationship isn't progressing and I think he's not over the past. He had one glimpse of my scars and after that, he looked terrified to even look at me."

Minseok nodded solemnly. "It's going to be hard for him to get over now that he's actually seen the damage. It's one thing to talk about it, but another to see it." Minseok sighed. "I talk like I'm over it myself. You know I have issues with trusting you not to hurt yourself and I still have panic attacks worrying about you but even so, nothing you can do or say will ever make it better. I have to get over it on my own, and so does Kai."

"Just like I had to get over everything on my own," you concluded.

"Yes, just like that. No matter how much you want someone to heal you, you have to do it on your own. A person doesn't fix your problems – can't fix your problems. They can help you find a way to heal, but they can't heal you."

"So what do I do, then?" You asked desperately.

He shrugged, "I'll tell you what I'm doing. The reason I came here was to let you know, I'm moving. Jongdae and Baekhyun will stay living in the house next door – at least for now, but I'm going to get an apartment a few towns away and go back to school. It took me a while but after a few weeks of feeling broken, I knew I had to do something and no offense, that involves leaving you and everyone else. I think I need to find myself and I can't do that here."

It hurt that Minseok had to leave but you didn't feel the need to protest. Your heart wasn't begging him to go even if your mind didn't want him to. You knew he needed to. You couldn't rely on him the way you had before and both of you had to learn that. "That's great Minnie, what are you going to school for?"

He smiled, "I think I'm going to become a nurse," he reached out and ruffled your hair. "I think I'm best at helping people and I should channel that energy into something that is more healthy."

Your heart fluttered and you smiled at him, "I'm so happy for you, Minnie. That's amazing. I'll miss you but I think you're right, that is what's best." You could have fought it and maybe past you would have, but why? Why fight something Minseok seemed so happy about? Why fight for him to stay when he needed this?  Being a best friend didn’t mean regarding your own happiness, but that of your best friend.

"I'll be gone for a while and well, maybe I won't come back but I promise I'll keep in touch. You'll always be my best friend."

Tears welled in your eyes. A life where you didn’t see Minseok often sounded scary but you would be okay as long as he was okay. “I just want you to be happy and things between us aren't healthy like you said. I hope this will help our relationship develop into something healthy."

He patted your cheek and wiped a stray tear away. "I think it's all time for us to grow without each other for a while. I'm happy that we're all best friends but in the interest of each of us: me, you, Jongdae, and Jongin, I think we all need to learn how to be our own people."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I think you should get some space too. Get out of this town, go have a long vacation, get a fun or stupid job, or just go back to school."

You gave him a look. You couldn't leave Jongin, especially now. "I left once, Minseok."

He gave you a look back, "I know but when you came back you hated Jongin, had a complicated relationship with he and I, and you hadn't gotten over what happened. This time you could take some time to yourself now that you're not living in the shadow of the past. You've forgiven Jongin so now he can learn how not to live in the past."

"You think us separating will be the best for us?" You couldn't imagine leaving Jongin but you held Minseok's opinion in high regard. "That he won't spend the time beating himself up?"

Minseok let out a deep breath, "I think he's more likely to beat himself up if you're here. I think we all need to go be our own people for a little bit. Me leaving you guys doesn't make me any less of your best friend nor does it make you any less of a girlfriend or wife if you leave. Just think about it, okay?"

Putting a hand on his shoulder, you nodded. "You're right. I'll think about it."

"I'm leaving tonight," Minseok said, looking off into the distance.

Gasping, you tried to ignore the hurt that your heart felt immediately with the impact of his words. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He kept his gaze away from you. "Because I'm still in love with you and I was afraid if I told you sooner, I might try to stay."

Were you still in love with him? You were sure you were. Were you over the idea of a relationship with him, though? Yes. You knew it was Jongin for you now but part of your heart would always belong to Minseok and that was hard to shake. "I get it," you replied quietly.

Being around someone you had been so close to being with, made your stomach feel weird. It made you feel like Minseok was an ex and you guessed in a way he was – but no matter what, he was your best friend and nothing would change that. Not him moving away to get over you and not you being with Jongin. But what would change is the health of your relationship and your heart was excited for the prospects of a future where your love wasn't toxic to each other.

Just like you and Jongin.

You needed a future that wasn't toxic.

A future where Jongin wasn't afraid to touch you.

And upon that realization, you realized that maybe you should leave too - ask Minseok had suggested.

When Minseok left, you hugged him tightly. You cried even though you tried to hide it. Minseok was there to wipe the tears away and tell you, "It will all be okay. I'll be a phone call away. You know I will always answer for you." But you knew that even though he said that, you shouldn't call him first. You had to let him come to you because no longer could you be the damsel in distress that he saved. You were a big girl and you were finally standing on your own two feet. You could make decisions on your own.

So you did. You knew it was time for you to go back to school and get a degree in fine arts the way you once dreamed. Touching a paintbrush didn't give you flashbacks anymore, in fact, painting was something you realized you needed more of. A couple of years of art school would do you some good. You were young and while you were Jongin's wife, you decided it would be okay to leave him temporarily. Although, you wouldn’t be leaving him emotionally because Jongin was stitched into your heart.

He wasn't upset when you told him your plans. He seemed happy and maybe even relieved that you were going to do something he knew you had wanted for so long. Jongin promised that a long distance relationship was okay with him and he admitted that maybe he needed it.  

While you applied to school, you helped Jongin find a therapist. It was Jongin's idea initially as he whispered in your ear one night before you went to bed, "I think I need help" and you knew it was a step in the right direction. He had to heal on his own and he had made the first leap.

The two of you promised to call each other constantly since the school you were going to was six hours away – it was no easy drive.

Stepping down from your 'big boss' position at work was like a breath of fresh air and you couldn't be any happier when Jongin suggest Jongdae take your place because you both knew you didn't intend on going back to working in an office. After you had your degree, you had a few ideas of what you wanted to do and working at an insurance company, wasn't one. Besides, who better to have your position at your work than one of the men who had saved you from yourself.

You and Jongin would be okay and you knew that. This wouldn't ruin your love because it turned out that nothing was enough to tear the two of you apart. If anything, the distance would draw you together. Once the two of you had time to become your own people, you could love each other more.

This was a new start and while you decided to remain married legally, you were going to a girlfriend-boyfriend status to take the relationship as slow as Jongin needed. While you still hadn't been physically intimate, eventually you would. The distance would make that happen on its own especially once Jongin got over the fear of hurting you. 

It would be a long haul but you were ready for it. You were ready to start fresh and now that everything had been solved that could be solved, you could be free. You wouldn't have to think about Jongin hurting you or the lingering love you had for Minseok. You wouldn't have to think of how losing your sister ruined you or how Jongdae was one of your crutches. You were free for the first time in a long time.

You could feel the freedom in your bones the day you left your home and you hoped Jongin felt the same. He was going to be free too. Time would heal him the way it healed you.

When you stepped outside that morning, the chilly wind blew in your hair and caressed your skin all while the sun shined brightly in the sky above. Jongin wrapped an arm around your waist, kissing you sweetly before you left, and then, as if it were magic, the birds started to sing.

--->twenty-one<---

masterlist

a/n: Dedicated to everyone who has ever loved MtaM. Thank you all for the love and support you have given. It’s sad that it’s coming to an end but all good things must come to an end. This series would be nothing without the sweet comments and messages, so thank you all. I hope I don’t disappoint anyone in the ending. I love you guys!

Special shout out to @lalys685 for helping me break through writer's block and for encouraging me. <3

[octaviainthewasteland]

from December to August

Fandom: Free!

Characters: Nanase Haruka, Matsuoka Rin

Summary: They folded the blanket, trying to shake the wet sand off, and for some time they did not talk, listening to the quiet wash of the waves, to the rustle of the sand beneath their feet, to the creak of sneakers, as they climbed the stairs.

Written for Maki  @hinadoria Thank you @free-exchange17 for organizing the exchange!

You can read it on AO3

P.S. Maki, please tell me if I’ve put the correct nickname of the giftee on AO3

In the beginning of December, two young men, hidden from the view of an occasional passer-by, sat on a blanket, the corners pressed down by heavy backpacks, on the beach of a small coastal town Iwatobi.

Every winter Iwatobi was becoming a little ghost town, like any other resort town. Picturesque narrow and curvy streets were empty when artists cleaned their stands with watercolor landscapes, caricatures of celebrities and tourists, and postcards. The souvenir shops hid fake-gold and carved wooden figurines in boxes, so they were not just collecting dust on the shelves. Five-story buildings on the outskirts were emptying out, because no one was renting an apartment, while small villas by the beach were standing like forgotten exhibits in the museum's closet, with hollow black windows, electricity and water supply piped off, a canopy covered with tarp to protect from leaks of long winter rains and tramps that try to sneak in to spend the night. The sand seemed gray beneath the cloudy sky, and only a few brave men were walking around the embankment, wrapped from head to foot. Damp northern wind could find the smallest gaps – dare to go out without the scarf or do not zip up jacket and you’re doomed.

From the quay down to the sea, a staircase of wide concrete slabs was descending, edged with rocks, huge, faded and cracked under the sun and wind. At the bottom stood a crooked feeble foot sprinkler. Nonsense, of course. While climbing up the stairs, again one would end up with a shoe full of sand.

During the summer season, local people worked or escaped somewhere amidst the wild beaches and bays, away from the quay, crowded with beggars, thieves, and tourists. Yet in winter this place was always deserted, and since school days they stopped here, open to the winds and cold, and heavy salty air, that clamped their hair and salted their lips. There was a distant smell of fish and seaweed, from the market down the road. Haru used to accompany his mother to that market, she would squint, examining the mackerel, and he would look those fish in the eye, black and blank.

For some reason, he has never gone there without his mother. Instead, he went to the little store closer to his house, not that it was objectively better or worse. Sometimes Makoto would bring him groceries, but Haru had no way of knowing where he bought that, and he did not care enough to ask.

They sat leaning on their backpacks, watching the smooth dark surface stretched towards the horizon, occasionally disturbed by tiny ripples. Rin was glancing at Haru sometimes from the corner of his eye, maybe a bit jealous of how Haru’s unperturbed beauty matched the calm melancholy of Iwatobi. His skin that was almost translucent, all colors washed out by the gleaming waters of the swimming pool; his short black hair twisting underwater like some kind of wicked kelp; his face of sharp features, crinkle between brows, pointed chin, bony fingers and eyes of the palest blue. The high winter sky, pierced by a single cold sunbeam.

They were both pathetically poetic, yet Rin was just a tad more vocal about his thoughts.

Haru pulled the puffer coat over his knees and wrapped his scarf around his mouth so that only his reddened nose and the tips of his worn-out sneakers were sticking out. Rin snorted: like a neglected street kid, this punk was still wearing the same sneakers he did back when he was sixteen. Those were good shoes, sure, and the soles were still intact, but the thing was that Haru could have afforded five or ten pairs of new ones, he was just being difficult. Same swimming trunks, same sneakers, same hat with threads sticking out.

“You’re coming by tonight, right? Gou would be happy to see you, you know.”

Haru murmured something in reply, but it got muffled by the thick scarf. He was not bothered by being alone at the house, and then guys would often show up anyway. Nagisa would finish all his food for the week and would not even attempt to be subtle, nonchalantly dropping his sleeping bag in the living room. To be honest, Haru did not mind. It was nice.

It was a bit too early for them to be around, though, with the end of the semester and the middle of finals. Rin and Haru earned a small break after a competition, and they were chosen to be in the national team, and it meant that for the first time they were on the same team, and they’re off in a couple of weeks. It went without saying to board the train and find themselves on the Iwatobi station on a chilly morning. The station is a bit of a strong word; there was a stand with the name, a bench and a little pastry shop nearby.

They ended up on the beach, and Haru thought that he should have first gone to his house to turn on the heating. By the time he would come back, it would be nice and warm. His parents were in Korea, but they promised to come around for Christmas. Before their arrival, Haru had all the time in the world to himself. Constant traveling and locker rooms, and shared showers, and double motel rooms – it was tiring. Rin did not seem affected; he raveled in socializing, team-bonding, interviews.

They folded the blanket, trying to shake the wet sand off, and for some time they did not talk, listening to the quiet wash of the waves, to the rustle of the sand beneath their feet, to the creak of sneakers, as they climbed the stairs. Rin grinned and let out a loud ciao and shoved his shoulder, urging him to come to the dinner at their house. Haru waved him off, thinking about nothing – everything – and promptly realized at his doorstep that there was nothing to eat. On some bizarre whim, after dropping off his belongings, he got his wallet and rushed back outside. Not to the nearby store, a small pink building wedged between a used-items store, money from sales of which go to cancer research, and a building that was filmed either by the business school or by a local religious cult. On the door, the inscriptions were duplicated in English, although no one from staff spoke any of it. Haru passed it, heading down to the market. In summer the town turned into a lazy beehive of charred sweaty bodies in colorful shirts and straw sunhats, and the market turned into another attraction, red and golden paper lanterns, stalls with games, souvenirs, glass decorations and street food.

Now it was dead. No stalls, no music, no people. He just stood there, trying to remember the feel of his mother’s hand, the push of the crowd, the color of Rin’s yukata.

They had not talked much, both so busy, changing locations and phone numbers. Then they met at those trials, and Rin immediately went for a hug, and Haru somehow realized he was so so tired. Before he could remember that hugging back is a thing, Rin withdrew, and like a fool, Haru almost chased after him – next moment they were surrounded by people, who were for some reason amazed that they knew each other. Unabashedly, Rin blurted out that obviously Nanase Haruka was secretly his biggest fan, and everyone laughed.

Somehow afterward they never parted.

Haru came back home yet again without any food. He briefly considered delivery, but then decided to just go to sleep earlier.

Then the doorbell rang, and he knew who it was, and he stumbled at the door, the hand not quite touching the knob.

Who was he kidding? He always opened that door, and he always let him in, and followed him, run after him. All the teenage angst and ‘I wanna swim with you’s and knowing looks shared before races.

Rin was everywhere and everything and Haru let him shrug and complain about inside being even more freezing than outside, and put the food on the table, berating him for breaking Gou’s heart by being a freaky hermit.

*

At the end of August, two young men sat on a small balcony of a cheap hotel room, drinking Pocari and Coke, in the middle of Tokyo.

Summer was hot and sweaty, and they were both in shorts and tanks, Rin’s hair in a ponytail, he stretched over his plastic chair in a dramatic exhausted pose. Bandages were clinging to their skin, and they were waiting until the conditioner would bring the room to a less scalding temperature.

In two days they had to move: Rin back to Australia, Haru to semi-finals in Europe.

Haru got up, wincing, feeling the dull ache in his muscles. Without command, his fingers reached out and brushed the tanned shoulder, hooking the strap of the tank top.

“Rin,” he said, soft and easy.

Rin smiled with his eyes still closed.

[empyrean-major]

EXO, December, 2014 (The Winter’s Tale)

Whenever winter rolled around, bringing with it the promise of colder days and holidays, Hansel always looked forward to food the most. Gingerbread cookies, in particular. 

Hansel leaned against the kitchen counter, chin propped up on his hand as he looked over a recipe on his phone. Last year, his batch of cookies had been good, but he was convinced that they could be better. After all, these were treats that he’d be gifting to his co-workers before his break for the holidays. 

“Nicho?” Hansel called out. “I don’t know about this one.” 

He heard Nicholas before he saw him, the telltale melody of carols in the air as Nicholas hummed to himself. “You say that for every recipe you find. The cookies last year were great, why don’t you make those again?” 

Turning around, Hansel let his back rest against the counter as he crossed his arms across his chest. Nicholas’s posture mirrored Hansel own from where he stood beside the fridge. He raised an eyebrow as a question, truly curious as to why Hansel were putting himself through so much trouble.

“They were too dry. I don’t want the cookies to be rock-hard.”

Nicholas chuckled, tickled by Hansel’s explanation. “Babe, they’re gingerbread. I think they’re all gonna end up a little dry anyways.”

“That’s not gonna stop me from trying.” Hansel picked up his phone once more, focused only on the screen as he continued to search. 

A pair of arms settled around his waist, Nicholas coming over to stand beside him as he leaned his chin on Hansel’s shoulder. “You know, we could always just buy cookies instead of making them.” 

“It’s not the same, I want to make these. It makes me feel like I’m actually good at baking.”

Nicholas pressed a kiss to Hansel’s cheek, his hair tickling Hansel’s face. “You are good at baking, babe. Those five pounds I’ve gained in the past year can speak for that.” 

“You’re overreacting,” Hansel told him with a small giggle. “And you need that extra weight anyways, you’re too skinny.” 

“Does that mean I get to eat some of these cookies too?” 

“Only if you run to the store for me.” 

Nicholas groaned before giving you a small squeeze, still holding onto Hansel. “What do you need?” 

“Most of these recipes call for the same ingredients. The only thing I’m missing is decorating gel.” 

“Any specific colors you want?” 

Hansel turned to face him, kissing him in thanks. “It doesn’t matter, you can pick. Thanks, Nicho.”

“Of course. Anything for you.” 

Hansel walked him to the door, watching as he pulled on his coat and shoes. Just when Hansel thought he was about to leave, he turned back around, a grin on his face as he came closer. Nicholas’ hands reached for Hansel’s face, the rough pads of his hands a familiar sensation against Hansel’s cheeks as he kissed Hansel once more. Compared to the other kisses, which were short and innocent, this one was more lazy and drawn-out. Hansel pulled Nicholas closer to him, a hand resting at the nape of his neck and brushing against the ends of his hair. 

When Hansel finally pulled away, out of breath and heart racing, Hansel were glad to see Nicholas looked just as lost for words. His cheeks were flushed pink, a crooked smile on his face as he watched Hansel warmly. “I’ll be back,” he murmured gently, reaching for the door handle.

Nodding, Hansel gave him a small wave. “Drive safely.” 

And with that, Nicholas was gone, the door closing shut behind him. Hansel locked the door and quickly got to work, tying an apron around his waist and getting his materials ready. 

Of course, any baking session wasn’t complete without some music. 

A quick glance through Hansel’s phone led him to a playlist that he had almost forgotten about, one that he had simply labeled “For A Good Day”. The opening notes of a pop song filtered into the air, instantly putting a spring in his step. 

This is the first Christmas that he and Nicholas were spending together, but something about the holiday season always managed to make both of them more clingy around each other. More often than not, the temptation of being lazy at home won out over walking outside to see the snow. 

For some reason, Nicholas had been increasingly more affectionate with Hansel than usual. Hansel had teased him about it, saying that he must be trying to make up for doing something bad. Nicholas had only given him that curled smile of his before snuggling beside Hansel. 

Hansel thought about this as he mixed the ingredients together, his hands on auto-pilot as he worked. Maybe Nicholas had been having a hard time at work? Hansel rejected that thought instantly - if he had been, he would have told him. It could just be winter blues, people were known to be more prone to states of melancholy during the colder season. But that didn’t make sense to Hansel either. Nicholas was just as cheerful and transparent about his feelings as ever. He stopped mixing and let out a sigh, hair blowing away from his face for a brief second. 

Choosing to focus on his cookies, Hansel made quick work of putting the dough in the fridge to chill. As he was washing his utensils in the sink, a new song began to play from his phone. 

He laughed as soon as he recognized the tune. A couple of years ago, Felix had shown him a video of Drake’s “Hotline Bling” as a remix to Wii music. At the time, Hansel had rolled his eyes even as Jisung danced along. The tune was so catchy though, that he even let them download it onto his phone. Hansel had no doubt that they had added this to his playlist as well. 

The front door opened with a squeak, the sound of shoes stomping against the floor. Hansel heard Nicholas give a small laugh, and he came into the kitchen with crinkling eyes as he giggled at Hansel’s choice in music. 

“I come home to you getting turnt to Wii music in the kitchen.” 

“You can thank Jisung for this. Oh, and Felix.” 

Nicholas snorted in amusement as he held out a bag of groceries to Hansel, cheeks red from running around in the cold. “Your gel, as requested.”

“Thanks, Nicho.” Both of them looked through the assorted colors, setting them out onto the counter and imagining what kinds of designs to draw. 

Baking was essentially a long waiting game, and once the dough had chilled long enough, Hansel and Nicholas cut the cookies out and got them into the even. Thankfully, they only needed about 10 minutes.  

Nicholas peered over your shoulder as Hansel got the cookies out, setting them down to cool. “So when do we get to decorate?” 

“Hold your horses, Nicho. They’re still too hot, you’re gonna burn your fingers.” 

“Do you always wait this long when you’re baking?” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault you have no patience.” Hansel turned away with a giggle as Nicholas tried his best to refute this, a long-winded comeback falling from his lips. As much as Hansel loved being affectionate with Nicholas the most, teasing him came in a very close second place. 

When Hansel finally announced that it was okay to start decorating, Nicholas’s face lit up with excitement. He reached for a cookie and a tube of green decorating gel, biting down on his tongue in concentration as he tried his best to draw even lines. Groups of colorful gingerbread men and women, even children, began to take shape. The cheerful faces looked back up at Hansel, bright lines of gel giving the impression of tiny shirts, dresses and suits on the baked goods. 

But one cookie had escaped Hansel’s eye, one that Nicholas had spent extra time on. At first glance, it appeared to be similar to the other cookies: generic smiley-face, winter outfit and all. But on the gingerbread cookie’s left hand, Nicholas had discreetly drawn a tiny line in yellow gel: a ring. A ring that Nicholas had meant to resemble the one hiding away in an old suitcase in the bedroom closet.

He watched as Hansel stacked all of the decorated cookies onto a plate, briefly assessing each one before setting it down. A knowing smirk played at his lips, oh, how he wanted Hansel to notice so badly. 

Oblivious to this, Hansel continued to pile up his cookies, even picking up Nicholas’s special one and placing it with the rest. He almost wanted to point it out to Hansel, but that would ruin his entire plan. Nicholas wasn’t even entirely sure why he had decided to leave such an obvious hint. Part of him wanted to propose to Hansel already, to ask you the question that had been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Nicholas flinched in surprise, his hand slipping from the counter as Hansel cast him a worried glance. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. What’s on your mind?” Hansel covered the cookies with plastic wrap, working efficiently as he waited. 

Nicholas pursed his lips as he thought, one foot tapping aimlessly against the floor. “I’ll tell you soon.” 

“But how soon is soon?” Hansel inched closer to him, hoping to coax the answer out of him with his charms. 

“Oh no, that’s not gonna work on me.” Despite his words, Nicholas pulled Hansel close to him in a tight hug, his face only a few inches away from Hansel’s. 

“Please, Nicho?” Hansel pleaded, a pout forming. 

He groaned, eyes closing shut before opening once more. “I’ll tell you on… Christmas.” 

“You promise?” 

Nicholas thought of the ring once more, his hands coming to run over Hansel’s fingers. 

“I promise.”