#These past weeks have been terribly hard not to say life-threatening but now with higher doses of anti-depressants I'm numb

[mali-umkin]

.

[sylverstorms]

Donna x Elena ----From Winter to Spring

This is a commission written for the lovely @saltwatereulogies and I cannot thank you enough for all your support! I hope you enjoy the story :)

She doesn’t know how she escaped that nightmarish inferno. How she still draws breath. Why her body keeps running despite its condition and despite the fact that she has lost everything.

The village is gone. Everyone she knew is either dead or a monster. She watched her own father growl like a beast and cleave a woman in half, then soon after wail out her name and succumb to the flames swallowing up the building. There is nothing left. There is nothing left for her.

Why? Elena wonders. A trail of blood marks her path through the snow, towards the unknown. Why still fight?

It will be easier to surrender to the agonizing burns, to the open gashes and wood splinters stuck in her skin. It will be far, far simpler to stop pressuring her rattling lungs to provide oxygen and fall into the snow, instead. It looks… peaceful. Soft. Pure.

It will welcome her to a quiet death, she thinks, so she may join her friends and her father.

Her father. The man who had never reached his hand out to help her when she fell –either on the fields or when she tripped over hardships— yet had always been there in his own stubborn, strict way, telling her to pick herself up.

“I didn’t raise no quitter.”

Ah, is that why.

Perhaps part of her feels it owes it to him to try. She did miraculously survive the fiery wreckage she’d initially thought would be her grave. But… the odds just aren’t with her.

Elena is only human. She’s lost too much blood, been through too much punishment. Her vision is growing blurrier by the second, her legs more sluggish. When she steps on grass instead of snow, she believes her mind is now playing tricks on her, too.

Something smells sweet, like wildflowers.

That is the last thing Elena is aware of, before she drops to her knees and blacks out.

-

-

When she blinks her eyes open, she is… confused.

She never thought heaven nor hell would have a wooden ceiling. She wouldn’t have guessed pain follows one into the afterlife, either, yet there she is, prone and throbbing with every weak breath on a bed too comfortable to be her own.

Unless…

Unless she’s not dead. Unless, against all odds, she survived a second time only to suffer some more. Elena wants to cry. What cruel game is the universe playing with her? The luck she never had in life is suddenly gracing her in extreme bursts now that she doesn’twant it.

“She’s awakeeee!” an overly excited voice exclaims somewhere around the room. Elena is too dizzy to tell.

“Shh.” A second presence makes itself known, calming the first.

“Who…” Who are you, Elena tries to say, but the words never make it past her dry throat.

Heels tap against the floor, until a black-clad figure comes to peer down at her. Elena expected to see the face of her savior, yet all she sees is a ghost, its visage hidden behind a mourning veil. The image is jarring; it sends her heartbeat skyrocketing, which doesn’t help her condition.

Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord what… Elena wants to tell herself she’s dreaming. It isn’t real, none of this is real—

Until a doll jumps into the edge of her bed and says something she doesn’t hear over the sound of her hoarse scream.

The ghost flinches backwards as the world turns dark once more.

-

-

The second time she opens her eyes, hours or days later, the pain has subsided somewhat.

Elena can feel her body, at least. All the wounded parts are carefully wrapped in gauzes and all her burns are covered by a soothing salve. Her lungs no longer hiss when she inhales, so long as she does so slowly, evenly.

That, of course, is not so easy to do when she turns to her left and sees the ghost sitting there, an open book in her lap. The veil is still on, obscuring her features, but Elena takes note of her fingers as they cradle the spine of the tome, long and pale, manicured black.

Appearances aside, there is a certain calm about her that doesn’t feel threatening.

“I… I’m not hallucinating, am I?” she whispers, not trusting her voice to go any higher.

The mystery woman tenses as though her voice has startled her. “…No.” she eventually replies. Her voice is quiet, like the rest of her.

“Did… you save me…?” A single nod is all she gets in return. Her company doesn’t seem very comfortable speaking, but Elena has questions that she needs answered. “Where am I?”

“The Beneviento estate.”

Elena would gasp if she could. I made it that far? And this woman… is she really Donna Beneviento? Her father told her all she needed to know about the four Lords residing at the outskirts of the village. He had also told her to avoid them at all costs.

“Um. I’m Elena—” A cough cuts her off. The sudden motion causes every injury across her body to burn.

“…I know.”

She is too much pain, in that moment, to ask how Donna knows.

-

-

In the following days, Elena comes to accept a few things that would have normally made her question her sanity;

The doll is alive. Her name is Angie and she is Donna’s friend. Donna is the adopted daughter of Mother Miranda, who, upon the former’s request, has given her permission for Elena to remain in the mansion. When she asked what would have happened had she denied, the doll only sing-songed that she doesn’t really want to know.

It still plagues her mind, probably because she has far too much time to think and this is the only thing she can focus on, lest she starts crying over and over again.

When Donna comes to change her bandages, it is a relief.

The woman sits at the edge of her bed, at the absolute maximum distance. Elena slowly brings her body to a semi-reclining position to assist. Angie hops on the bed and pulls the covers to the side… and that is when they arrive to a standstill. Donna doesn’t move, Elena doesn’t know what to do.

“Um. May I?” the veiled woman motions with her –admittedly very elegant— hands. It’s… endearing, how she approaches the subject of touching her.

Elena nods and tries to be a good patient for her. Tries being the key word. When she’s not fighting for her life, she is not nearly as brave in the face of pain. Her teeth are gritted as Donna’s cool hands unwrap the gauzes at her right arm, her eyes closed, breath held.

“…Am I hurting you?” Donna asks, quiet as ever.

“No.” Elena forces herself to exhale. “No, you’re… very gentle.”

Donna nods and continues with the same measured movements. Elena doesn’t want to look at her wounds, afraid of what she’ll find there, so she turns to the veiled visage of her companion. She wishes she could see her face. Wonders what she may look like, what flaw she’s trying to hide.

Until a bandage catches on a particularly bad burn and Elena cries out.

Her whole body jumps—

Donna’s hands fly to her shoulders, keeping her steady with surprising strength, yet she steps away the very next second as though she’s been scorched.

Elena bites her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. There you go, making her uncomfortable…

Angie takes over for a while, also quite precise. Elena peeks down to realize she isn’t in as terrible a condition as she may have imagined. Scars will be left, no doubt, but she will probably heal well enough.

Then the last difficult spot comes up. She knows it when Angie warns: “You need to stay still here.”

“No, no wait!” Elena pleads. “I—I can’t.” I can’t, I can’t deal with this again, not again—

But Donna sits back next to her and her mere presence calms her down. “You are very strong, Elena. This is the last one.” she says.

“Hold me down.” Elena requests.

Donna doesn’t seem to like the idea. Still, she slowly brings her hand back over the uninjured part of Elena’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright.” she whispers.

“On three.” Angie says. “One… Two…”

She pulls the bandage on two and Elena would jump high enough to burst through the ceiling if it wasn’t for Donna. When the agony subsidies she realizes she’s sobbing helplessly, clutching at the dollmaker’s sleeves for dear life.

“Shh, I’m sorry, it’s over now. It’s over.” Donna’s slender fingers comb through her unruly hair.

The brunette closes her eyes and lets her head drop back down into her pillow, but she doesn’t let go of the dollmaker right away. She smells like the flowers outside her house,she thinks.

She feels like a safe space, steady, in a world that’s broken and tilted for Elena.

-

-

Gradually, Donna talks to her more. Gradually, Elena tests her body’s limits until she is strong enough to walk around the house on her own.

Angie is with her, most of the time, but she knows it’s less a security measure and more one for her safety. Her mental connection to Donna is something Elena cannot grasp nor understand, but she tries to.

The first time she manages to get to the living room, Elena stops and stares at the painting of Donna adorning the wall opposite her.

“…is that her?” she asks Angie.

“Of course!” the doll replies excitedly. “I am so proud of that one, the artist did a great job! Mistress Donna looks splendid, but it is me who steals the show!”

Elena can’t look away from the canvas. Why is she so familiar…? “Is that what she looks like?”

“Well, excluding a scar she wishes to hide. Kind of like my face. We match.” Angie answers, giving her version of a grin.

For the rest of the day, Elena sneaks glances at Donna, then the painting. It isn’t proper, she knows, but she’s curious. And… surely, no scar is enough to justify hiding that cute face from the world?

-

-

Weeks pass. Elena has healed well and she owes it all to Donna.

The two of them have grown closer in the time the former’s injuries have forced them together, close enough to have tea in the mornings and brief chats over common interests throughout the day.

When the weather grows a tad warmer, Elena asks the dollmaker to take a stroll with her outside. She sees the decorated graves, of course, but she knows better than to ask. She doesn’t want their time to be poisoned by grief. The scars of losing loved ones run deep, she knows this too well and they never really heal.

The two of them are basking in comfortable silence for a while, until a thought that feels impossible not to be voiced strikes Elena.

“Donna.” she speaks.

“Hm?”

“When I first woke up and I told you my name… you said ‘I know’.”

“…yes.”

“I’m sure we’ve never met before…?” Elena stops and turns to face her companion. Donna mirrors her.

“How certain are you?” she asks. Upon Elena’s obvious confusion, she elaborates; “As a child, I used to visit the village with my father. In one of those visits, some of the kids made fun of my scar. A boy, especially, was saying some very mean things.”

Elena starts to recall one such incident in the blurry images of her childhood.

“You stopped him.” Donna says. Pauses. “…with a punch to the face.”

Elena raises a hand to her mouth, but a quick laugh escapes her anyway. “I did?” A nod. “No way.”

“You did.”

“It couldn’t have been a strong one, though.” Elena giggles.

“I don’t know. Rumor has it he still hasn’t gotten up, to this day…” The little exhale of a chuckle that escapes Donna makes something in Elena bloom and flutter.

She wants nothing more in that moment than to lift the damned veil and see the face of the gentlest, kindest woman she’s ever met.

-

-

The winter eventually gives way to spring. The earth heals from the wounds of the cold like Elena has, under Donna’s care.

She no longer has doubts about what she feels, what she wants. It is only a matter of overcoming her fears and nervousness. Only a matter of finding the right timing and the appropriate setting.

Elena has rehearsed the words she needs to say many times in her dreams and thoughts, yet she finds herself tongue-tied and completely lost on what to do in reality. She has asked Donna to walk with her, taken her to where the waterfall calms into a river… and now struggles to summon her voice.

“What is it, Elena?” Donna, ever the sweetheart, asks. “You know you can tell me anything… right?”

“What if…” she hesitantly begins. “What if I can’t tell you? …can I show you, instead?”

“Of course.”

Elena takes a deep breath and chastises herself to woman up. One little step brings her into Donna’s personal space. Her hand raises to the edge of the veil, blue eyes searching for a sign she should stop. The dollmaker is tense, but she hasn’t made a move to back away, nor lower Elena’s hand.

She trusts her.

And that’s all Elena needs to finally, finally remove the barrier separating them for months. The cute girl she defended as a child is a beautiful woman now, looking back at her with gentle, dark eyes. The jagged scar running down the right side of her face does nothing to retract from that beauty.

“You don’t need that.” she breathes. “You never did.”

Donna glances to the side, a hint of color spreading over her pale cheeks. Elena chases her chin with her fingers, then slowly inches closer, making sure the dollmaker has ample time to decide if she wants this, too.

When their lips meet, color blooms behind her shut eyelids, within her chest. Donna’s mouth is as soft and sweet as her personality, Elena discovers. It is a short, chaste kiss but it is also a promise for many more to come.

It is the gratitude Elena will eternally hold for Donna, who found her at the ending of her life and nursed her back to this,

A new beginning.

[jungblue]

aphrodite in war | 01

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: comedy, fluff, angst, eventual smut / greek life, fake dating, roommates, lovers to enemies and back to lovers au

word count: 11,022

description: Everyone knew about the war that had been brewing on the edge of campus for the past two years. Sorority versus Fraternity; a showdown for the ages. However, when the escalating antics between them yields the consequence of possible suspensions for both chapters, the presidents of each house must come together to try and figure out how to end this battle... Which is kind of hard, considering they were the ones responsible for it in the first place.

note: here is an audio post of a beautiful song with lyrics inspired by AiW, which was written by one of my lovely readers!

→ part 02

Hostility bleeds deep. The rivers of resentment collide violently as they carve a divide so saturated in disdain between the parties involved that you don’t even need to be told that there is something more to the story. It doesn’t need to be said out loud, but is just instinctively felt.

You didn’t need to be told that the ominous house at the end of street was sketchy and should be avoided at all cost; you just knew it. You didn’t need to be told that there was bad blood between the guy and girl whose jaws suddenly stiffened as their lips transformed into a firm, straight line when they caught sight of each other at a party; you just knew it — And you most certainly didn’t need to be told that there was an absolute war brewing at the end of Greek Drive between the Tri Delts and Lambdas; you just fucking knew it.

In the beginning, their rivalry was small. It was simple antics such as egging each other’s houses or fucking around with the letters that they so proudly displayed on their lawns. But then it turned a bit more intense. Egging the houses turned into spray-painting them and fucking with the letters on their lawns turned into completely trashing each other’s lawns. It was because of this that the once harmless pranks turned infamous. Everything that happened between their houses had constantly been circulated around campus for the past two years, or at the very least among their Greek counterparts… Which was probably how the two newly inducted presidents of Delta Delta Delta and Lambda Phi Epsilon, on the very first week of their final year in college, found themselves sitting in the office of a much higher power than their own titles — The president of their university; a single word spilling past his lips that had their stomachs twisting.

“Suspension!?” They both yelled in disbelief.

It was a word no organization wanted to hear. It branded your chapters with a shame that would be painted across the local news stations and even across the country. The lines would blur, only to lump them in with those terrible hazing stories that constantly flooded the media.

“P-president Kwon,” Jungkook finally stuttered out after a moment of coming to terms with the seriousness of the situation they were being faced with. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise the very... minor pranks that go on between our houses are probably much less problematic than what you’re thinking.”

“Mr. Jeon, do you think that we would threaten something of such dramatic action without several instances of confirmed proof?” President Kwon asked in a clipped tone as he leaned forward in his chair.

You could see the way that Jungkook blanched next to you, clearly not expecting this harsh treatment from President Kwon. Lambda Phi Epsilon happened to be President Kwon’s former fraternity, so it was well known that there was a good relationship there. However, in this moment you could make out nothing except for a glaring, red warning shining off the president’s ice-cold eyes.  

“I — no, sir,” Jungkook whispered, dropping his head slightly to hide the sudden flush of red that was rushing to his face.

“It is more embarrassing than I can possibly describe to the two of you, receiving dozens upon dozens of phone calls and emails over the incidents involving your organizations. Garbage littering every inch of your front yards, obscene images drawn onto your houses, several instances of animal control having to be called due to rodents being set free in the house as a… as a prank? All of this is happening while visits from prospective students and their parents are being conducted. Donors who help this school are wandering the campus and seeing it. Tell me, did the incidents I just mentioned not actually transpire, Mr. Jeon? Ms. Y/L/N?”

The air was so stiff that you barely managed a shaky inhale in order to respond to the juvenile antics being laid out before you. “No, th-they did transpire, sir. And I don’t know what to say besides that I’m so, so sorry that we’ve embarrassed the university this way.” You bit at the inside of your cheek, President Kwon’s relentless glare of disappointment cutting you through and through.

“Yes, so completely sorry,” Jungkook added.

Nothing was said for a few moments after that. It seemed President Kwon wanted to make the two of you squirm for everything that you had done, and it was definitely working. Every movement made you feel self-conscious, the judgement permeating the office air felt as if it were sticking to your skin.

“I know that what we’ve done is completely unacceptable, President Kwon,” You began, not being able to take the silence anymore. “But I promise if you give us just one more chance, we’ll clean up our acts. No more pranks, just cordial neighbors. As the new presidents of our chapters this year, we’ll make sure the members understand that this behavior isn’t something that will be tolerated anymore.”

Jungkook was nodding his head next to you in agreeance. But once again the room was plunged into silence. It was honestly torture, sitting there under such scrutiny as someone held something so dear to you in the palm of their hand. It would break your heart if the suspension actually went through… Considering it was yours and Jungkook’s fault that tensions had gotten to where they were in the first place. The bad blood between the two of you had seeped into the minds of your members as well, which was ultimately how it got so ugly. But it had gotten especially bad this year now that you were the respective presidents of each of your houses and had allowed things to escalate further. Harsh feelings between two people couldn’t do much damage, but when it was dozens versus dozens, well that was when things got messy.

Eventually though you found yourself being pulled back to reality. President Kwon cleared his throat, the sound making your heart stutter in your chest as you prepared yourself for the worst.

“You’re exactly right. It won’t be tolerated any longer.” He paused for a moment, probably for the added effect of letting anxiety seize its way around your lungs. “Probation for the next three months. One more incident and it’s over. Do you understand?”

At that there was a simultaneous sigh of relief from you and Jungkook as the looming consequence faded… At least for now.

“Thank you so much, President Kwon.” Jungkook stood from his chair, reaching across the table to shake his hand. “I promise we won’t mess this up.”

You lifted yourself up from your chair as well, following his lead. “Yes, we promise.”

“I hope that’s true,” Is all President Kwon responded with as he led the two of you towards the door of his office. “Take care.”

With rather mumbled and rushed goodbyes you exited his office, the two of you shuffling quickly down the hallway until you were sure you were out of earshot. Both of you stopped as you turned the corner, insults already resting on the tips of your tongues.

“This is all your fucking fault!” You yelled in a hushed whisper.

“My fault!?” He whispered back, equally as intense. “You’re the one who started this shit, Y/N. No one would even be fighting if you hadn’t opened your mouth to your friends.”

“I was just venting to them! I had no idea that they would go and actually do something about it. And it was a harmless prank. They planted fucking flowers in front of your house for god’s sake, and your loser friends retaliated by digging holes in our yard. You guys are the ones who escalated it, and now it’s this out of control thing that’s going to get our chapters suspended!” Your chest was rising and falling, anger boiling inside of your blood. You had never even partaken in any of the antics that had gone on between the two houses nor had you baited any of your members into participating.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, tongue pressing at the inside of his cheek. “You know what? It’s whatever. We’ve been arguing about this for two years now, so I’m not expecting you to be reasonable any time soon.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, the painful reminder of how long this had been going on searing a deep cut across your chest. But it was like Jungkook had said, this had been going on for a long time and there was no point in arguing about who was right, because it wasn’t as if it actually mattered. So instead, you just didn’t respond. You stared at him for a moment, sneer fading into this sad downward turn of your lips. And surprisingly you watched the way his expression softened as well. His brows were furrowing a little less, his jaw not as hard and brooding.

You gave him a tiny nod before you turned away and headed towards the exit. It was a few seconds before you heard his footsteps start to follow you. Every time his sneakers would squeak against the linoleum floor behind you, it felt like this tiny pressure was beginning to build at the base of your throat. You weren’t sure why you still got these feelings of… longing, even after all of this passed time. It was pathetic. Jungkook apparently didn’t long for anything from back then, so why did you?

Eventually you were able to breathe a little clearer once you pushed your way through the exit and away from the tight and tense space of faculty meetings and suspension threats. The fresh air filled your rattled lungs — too bad it was murky and humid beneath the gray storm clouds that were currently drowning the campus in a depressing drizzle.

“Goddammit,” You muttered beneath your breath.

You didn’t drive here since this building had been so close to your last class of the day. The Tri Delt house was about a ten minute walk from here, so it looked like you needed to get going before the light sprinkle of rain turned into a thunderstorm. You were about to step out from underneath the overhead of the roof and down the steps when you felt a light tug of someone pulling at the back of the belt loop on your jeans. 

“Do you need a ride?” Jungkook asked before you had even turned around to fully face him. His expression was neutral. It didn’t seem annoyed or concerned, but he had always been good at hiding his emotions like that.  

Of course you didn’t want to walk home in the rain, but sitting in a confined space with Jungkook after you’d both just gotten done yelling at one another didn’t seem like the greatest time either. But in the end, you decided that a few minutes wouldn’t kill you. “Yeah, I guess,” You whispered, motioning for him to go ahead so you could follow. His car was parked in one of the first spots at the bottom of the steps. You were both silent as you opened the doors and climbed inside.

It was weird. You hadn’t been in Jungkook’s car in years. You watched him pull out of the parking space, one hand on the wheel, the other leaning against the center console. It felt all too familiar. You blew a heady sigh past your lips, hands wringing in your lap. It didn’t seem to matter how much time passed, the tension between you and him never seemed to lessen. It was a constant, palpable stiffness in the air.

“Do you think we’ll be able to get them to stop fighting?” Jungkook finally asked once they turned onto Greek Drive, giving some mild relief to the strain that the two of you were so highly aware of.

“If suspension doesn’t do it, then I honestly don’t know what would.”

He nodded, seeming to agree. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll cut it out.”

“Yeah, they can’t be that dumb—” However, your words seemed to disintegrate along your tongue as the car approached the Lambda and Tri Delt houses that stood side by side.

“Jesus Christ,” Jungkook muttered, pulling into the driveway which currently had a Lambda named Jimin running down it towards his truck that was completely covered in saran-wrap and a laughing Tri Delt named Joy who was holding said saran-wrap.

“Get back here and take this shit off my truck right now!” You heard Jimin yell.

“Nope, I’m good.” She smiled, shrugging and taunting him as she jogged away.

“This… This might be harder than we thought,” You said.

Jungkook rested his head against the steering wheel, eyes closed. “Yeah, way fucking harder.”

---------

It was several mass group texts later, demanding that every Lambda and Tri Delt come to their houses immediately, that all forty-two members of the combined organizations who actually lived in-house finally arrived… Yeah, there was no way that this could go terribly wrong or anything… Right?

You and Jungkook stood in front of the members as they gathered on the grassy area that separated your two houses. As expected there were dozens of mumbled conversations transpiring, all speculating on what the hell was going on here. You looked to Jungkook, giving him a nod to tell him that they should start.

He cleared his throat, clapping his hands together, resulting in large boom that got everyone’s attention. “All right, listen up. We have something important we need to discuss.”

“Jungkook, why the hell are the Tri Delts here?” A Lambda named Yuta yelled out.

“Because we can be, asshole.” It was Jennie.

“Who’re you calling an asshole?” Taehyung asked, even though he had nothing to do with it.

“Your dickhead friend,” Sana responded, again even though it had nothing to do with her.

And then Chanyeol chimed in, followed by Momo, which then got escalated by Johnny and continued by Dahyun. After that you lost track of who was arguing because it just became a giant clusterfuck of people yelling and this was the perfect example of how this entire war started — people getting involved in the business of others that didn’t even concern them.

You started rubbing at your temples, fingernails digging into your palms. This was enough. “Shut the fuck up!” You yelled, a loud echo that reverberated through the air and hushed everyone into silence. “This is why you’re all here.” You motioned towards them.

“What do you mean?” Someone asked from the back. “What’s going on?”

“Me and Y/N had a meeting with President Kwon today,” Jungkook paused, releasing a deep sigh before continuing. “He said that if we all keep publicly fighting the way we have been… that our chapters will get suspended.” 

There was a small pause, as if it didn’t immediately click with everyone what had been said — and then the panic set in. 

“What?!”

“No fucking way!”

“He can’t be serious!”

“That’s bullshit!” 

“This is just another prank, right?!” 

Having forty-two people publicly shouting expletives, wasn’t the best start to this image reset that President Kwon wanted, but there was no way either of the chapters would have been okay with the other house coming into their own, so this little outdoor set-up was the best option they had. 

You and Jungkook sort of just stood there for a moment, letting the members get their gut-reactions out. Then he turned to you, motioning towards the mob of angry Greek lifers. “You were always better at yelling than me. You wanna quiet them down?” He smirked, a jab that had you clenching your teeth. 

“Great way to start off this so called peace treaty, but sure, I’ll gladly calm them down and get straight to the point. I wouldn’t want to let them drown in their own heads without knowing what’s going on because someone won’t just be upfront.” You stared him straight in the eyes, making sure he got your double meaning since he wanted to play dirty and bring up the past. He simply clenched his jaw and averted his gaze back to the crowd of hysterics laid out before them. 

“Quiet down and we’ll explain.” You yelled as loud as you could, hoping it would reach everyone so that the chatter would die down quickly. Luckily it seemed they were all on the verge of a mental breakdown and needed answers, so the volume was almost instantly brought down to a hush. All eyes were now on you. “To make things simple, President Kwon thinks that our little prank war or whatever the hell you want to call it, has brought too much negative attention to the school. Visiting students and their parents, donors, and apparently a lot of other people have noticed all of the antics that we pull on each other, and they don’t like it.” You paused, gauging the reactions, but everyone was just frozen in place, waiting for more details. “He put both of our houses on three months of probation and said that if we don’t clean up our acts and stop with all of this petty bullshit that he would suspend our chapters. So, really it’s that easy. We just have to let this feud die down...” You paused, not wanting to say what you were going to say next, but you thought that it would be the best way to diffuse the situation. “And I know that it was the venting of my personal feelings that started this entire thing, so I wanted to say… I’m sorry for causing it.” You didn’t look towards Jungkook, but you could feel his stare burning into the side of your face. You didn’t want to see his expression. Didn’t want to see the smugness or whatever the hell he was feeling towards this forced public apology. You were about to continue, but before you could, a high-pitched voice cut in. 

“No, why are you apologizing?” Sana said, stepping past the front lines of the two groups. “It is not your fault.” She shot a glare towards Jungkook who simply rolled his eyes and kept his stare straight ahead. 

Then it was Jennie pushing to the front to join in on your defense. “She’s right, Y/N. It’s not your fault. We’re the ones who planted the flowers as a joke. Even though it was a harmless joke,” She turned towards the Lambda boys, venom coating her words, “that made their trashy house look a little bit nicer. Yet, they had to escalate it into something else.”

Oh, this was not good.

Jimin broke through the front line for the Lambdas, a scowl etched across his face. “It’s not the issue of what you did. It’s the fact that back then you blindly fucked with the house that all of the guys lived in, not only Jungkook, just because of Y/N being upset over their relationship — which, he did nothing wrong since you wanna start glaring at people for no fucking reason Sana.” 

It was this violent concoction of anger and sadness colliding inside of your stomach that had you simultaneously fighting back the urge to bite off Jimin’s head or crying pathetically in front of everyone. 

Multiple people were stepping to the front of their groups now, various arguments splintering off as people began defending the heads of their respective houses. Y/N this, Jungkook that. You stared at the second story of the Tri Delt house, focusing in on the bedroom window all the way to the right (your bedroom), so that your hearing would blur out. You didn’t want to listen to these arguments any more, but you also didn’t have the energy to both somehow defend yourself while also admitting that Jungkook’s feelings from back then were also valid. So you stood there, eyes glazing over at the sight of the room where this entire feud spawned from. Though, maybe that wasn’t exactly correct. According to Jungkook it had started in no particular place and at no particular time that he could actually pinpoint. That was just the place where it had all finally been verbalized. 

You weren’t sure how long you zoned out for, just reminiscing on the conversation from that night, but it was Jungkook’s voice thundering through the air that halted everyone’s arguments once again, along with your torturous thoughts. 

“All of you just fucking stop!” He yelled. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is or how it started. If we keep doing this we’re gonna get our chapters suspended. Do you guys want that?” There was an awkward moment of silence where everyone was just sort of looking around at one another before the members finally grumbled a unanimous ‘no.’ “Okay, so then you guys are just gonna have to get over this bullshit, just like how me and Y/N are,” Jungkook paused, one brow arched as he turned to face you. “Right?”

You felt your face heat up as you clamped your teeth down onto the inside of your cheek. “…Right.”

“Good.” Jungkook smiled, seeming very happy with himself for getting that out of you — smug asshole. He turned back to face all of the members, clapping his hands together before saying something that caused the entire group to erupt into hysterics. “Now, apologize to each other.”

“Fuck that!” Someone screeched from the back. “Baek let the air out of my tires last year. I was late for my final.” 

“Because you put a pair of panties in my car and my girlfriend thought I was cheating on her!” 

“You probably were!”

Everyone was screaming and calling out various incidents, saying there was no way in hell they were ever going to apologize. 

“Fine! Fucking fine!” Jungkook cut in immediately before it could devolve again. “How about if me and Y/N just apologize to each other and it’ll count for the rest of you? And then this war is dead. Sound fair?” 

No one said anything concrete in response, just unintelligible grumbles rippling through the crowd. Jungkook apparently took this as an okay, because he was suddenly turning toward you. “Alright, you go first.” 

You scoffed. “I’m not apologizing first. It wasn’t even my idea. Besides I already apologized to everyone earlier.”

“It wasn’t an apology to me though.” 

“I don’t think I owe you an apology.” You shrugged. “I apologized for my friends fucking with your house. What else do I need to apologize for?” 

He just looked at you, with those eyes that were unreadable. Though you could see a slight shift, as though there truly was something that he wanted you to apologize for from back then, but he could tell that you weren’t going to back down, so he went for something that cut deep as punishment. 

He huffed in annoyance. “Fine, if you wanna be like that. I’m sorry that I broke up with you, Y/N.”

Your entire body flared with anger that had a pool of sweat instantly swelling at your hairline. You stepped closer to him, only a foot of space between you, but he didn’t back down and you weren’t going to either. “And I’m sorry I wasted three years of my life with a lying, cheating piece of shit!” 

His eyes went wide. The word that never failed to strike a nerve whenever this argument was brought back under the light. His response was quiet but firm, everyone, all forty-two members watching in silence. “I never cheated on you, but if you want to think that just so I can be the bad guy in your head, fine.” 

His final word felt like a sharp cut across your chest, but you stood firm, not backing down. You didn’t break eye contact with him as you voiced your final sentiment to the two groups of warring Greeks. “I don’t care whose side you guys fall on when it comes to this overblown drama between me and Jungkook. The fighting, the pranks, all of it, it’s over.” 

“Agreed.” Jungkook bit out before turning and walking towards the Lambda house, a silent command for his Brothers to do the same. 

You didn’t stand there for a single second longer and began walking toward your own house, your fellow Sisters following. Your best friends, Sana and Jennie, instantly threw their arms around your shoulders. “Vodka?” The universal distraction from all things awful in life. 

You shook your head. “Tequila.” The universal eraser to all things awful in life. “Lots of tequila.”

 ——-

“He’s lucky that we’re in a truce now or I would’ve thought up something diabolical for his arrogant ass,” Jennie said as she dusted some blush on her cheeks. 

“I know right, ugh!” Sana made a disgusted sound as she handed you the necklace she was letting you borrow for the night. “Telling you to apologize first. Like fuck you. You haven’t even done anything.”

You simply sighed, jumping to get your jeans past your thighs. “It’s fine guys. As long as no more issues pop up we can just ignore them and act like none of this ever happened.” 

“I know, I know, but it just pisses me off that they always bring your name into the argument. Like you didn’t tell us to go and mess with them. We did it ourselves, and sure, looking back on it now we shouldn’t have done it — even though they were some nice fucking flowers — but regardless, they pushed it to another level.” Sana let out a final huff as she hopefully released the last of her ranting for the night. 

“The point of the tequila,” You said as you filled three shot glasses, several wedges of lime waiting beside them, “Is to forget the problems. Not continue thinking about them.” 

Sana snapped her fingers and pointed at you with a smile as she picked up her shot. “You know what, you’re right. Fuck the Lambdas. They no longer exist. In my head we live next to a vacant patch of grass.” 

“Exactly.” Jennie picked up her glass, leaving the final one for you. “Cheers to no longer having to deal with the house that must not be named.”

The three of you let out a little cheer before clinking your glasses together and forcing your bodies through the post-shot shivers that followed. 

After the front yard meeting fiasco you knew immediately you would be going out. However, it had still been quite early, so you, Sana, and Jennie decided to indulge in several glasses of wine to bide the time before it was late enough to feel like an appropriate time to be downing shots. Tequila at six in the afternoon, even on a Friday, just didn’t feel right, so alcohol juice it had been. Though, the warm feeling that was already radiating through your legs as you walked over to the mirror to do one last once over of your outfit indicated that the so called alcohol juice had done its job as the pre-game to the actual hard liquor pre-game a little too well. 

“Okay, I’m only opting for one more round while we’re here or else we will be having a repeat of St. Patrick’s Day.” Too many green beers that day. Too many. 

“Senior year wisdom.” Jennie placed her hand over her heart. “Our freshman year brains would never.” 

“Our freshman year brains didn’t have an aversion to six different types of alcohol yet.” You laughed as you motioned to take the next round of shots. “And I would like to still be able to look at a bottle of tequila without going into a full-body sweat after tonight, so we’re pacing ourselves.” 

“Oh, Fireball. The days when I could still drink you were so simple.” Sana grabbed her face and grimaced as if Fireball was a long lost god, while you audibly gagged from the name of the cinnamon flavored whiskey alone. 

“Sana, stop. You know Y/N can’t even look at a churro anymore without looking like she’s gonna yak everywhere like a dog.” 

I faked a sniffle. “God, I miss being able to eat churros.” Cinnamon was now inedible to you thanks to your now forever connection between the delectable spice and the previously mentioned unspeakable liquor. A break up that rivaled that of yours and Jungkook’s. 

“Uber’s gonna be here in three minutes,” Jennie said as she returned to your bedside table to grab her shot glass once again. 

The three of you raised your glasses together with a clink. “Let’s fuck it up.” 

——----

The bar right next to your college, simply referred to as “Pub,” was a weird place to be on the first Friday of the new semester. It was a mix of underage freshman trying to slyly sip at their alcohol while attempting to hide the X’s marked on their hands, and of age students that felt a little too old to be at Pub, but who could argue with free drinks for girls until midnight? Definitely not you, Sana, or Jennie. 

The three of you found your temporary home at the tables on the deck right outside of the entrance, the fresh air much preferable to the stuffy atmosphere of the dance floor that you would soon find yourself on given the right song choice to send you flying through the door. 

You watched as Sana shimmied through the crowd of people to return to your table, three tiny plastic cups in hand. “You get a vodka Sprite, you get a vodka Sprite, and I get a vodka Sprite!” She yelled as she set the cups down on the table. 

You laughed. “People may call that basic, but we still get drunk and don’t have to drink Jack and fucking Coke.”

“The Devil’s combo.” Jennie sipped her drink. “You see a guy drinking that: run. He thinks he’s so fucking cool.” 

Sana raised her plastic cup. “Cheers to the truth.” 

“Cheers,” You all agreed collectively. 

“But speaking of guys who don’t drink Jack and Coke, I ran into Namjoon when I went to the bathroom a minute ago.” A blush crept across Jennie’s cheeks. 

“Are you finally gonna see if he’s interested? He’s not your TA anymore, so it’s not sketchy.” 

Jennie shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s weird. He seems so uninterested that it’s intimidating. Like I’ve imagined thirty-seven different scenarios for our first date and he’s only like ‘Hi, Jennie. Bye, Jennie.” 

You and Sana couldn’t help but laugh, however, the amusement was cut short by a decently sized group of familiar males. 

“Fuck me,” You said under your breath, which was enough for Jennie to turn around and see the pack of Lambda boys climbing the wooden steps onto the deck of the bar, Jungkook leading the way. 

“You try to forget your problems and they just walk in on two legs.” Sana groaned. “It’s rude really.” 

The group got caught in the line to get into the bar, which unfortunately left them idling uncomfortably close to your table, and of course something had to be said. 

Jimin glanced down at them sitting, a fake grin plastered to his mouth. “If it isn’t our cordial neighbors.” 

Jennie snapped her head up to look at him, mirroring his forced smile. “Cordial can also mean that we’re pretending you don’t exist. In fact, we no longer acknowledge that we even have neighbors.” 

“That’s fantastic, actually. It means I can forget that awful blowjob you gave me freshman year even happened.” 

Jennie’s jaw clenched for all of a millisecond before responding. “Awful? Say that to my untouched vagina after you came in sixty seconds. Though again, we’re pretending you don’t exist, so I guess I can forget the most underwhelming sexual experience of my life. Thanks, Jimin.” She turned back to you and Sana, not sparing a second glance as if she’d simply given someone directions to the nearest Denny’s. 

But Jimin wasn’t through. “That’s not what happened—”

You could see in your friend’s face she was already squaring up another jab, and as much as you found it entertaining you knew it was setting a bad example. 

“Jennie,” You said at the same time that Jungkook sighed “Jimin.”

You both looked at each other, a silent message of gratefulness passing between the two of you at trying to actually make this work. 

“Guys, neither of us want to get our chapters suspended. If ignoring each other is the best route, do that, or maybe even be friends. Whatever results in no fuckery between our houses, okay?” You reminded them of what was at stake here and everyone nodded, letting any planned animosity fall away as the line to get into the bar began to move. 

You tilted your head, watching as Jungkook’s back disappeared into the building, his eyes crinkling as he smiled brightly at some girl who noticed him the second he made it past the threshold. 

Again, that stupid feeling of longing for something that was clearly dead and gone. But you didn’t want to get too down, so before you could spiral too far you turned back towards your friends. “So did he really last sixty seconds?” 

“No,” Jennie smiled, “But I definitely still have the texts of him telling me the next day it was the best suck of his life. He’s the one that lied first, so I get to bend the truth too.”

“Freshman year is so weird to think about. Everyone was actually friendly. Jennie and Jimin might be dating right now if it wasn’t for our little war.” Sana laughed as she batted the napkin away that Jennie tossed at her. 

“Absolutely not. I want someone like Namjoon, who’s smart and respectful. Not Jimin, who… who…” She trailed off simply finishing her thought with a wordless grimace. 

Jennie said that, but you knew it wasn’t exactly true. You remembered very well when Jennie and Jimin were involved and she actually seemed to enjoy the Lambda’s presence quite a bit. But then things went to shit the summer after your freshman year was over, and well, this was the reality now. Snide comments at every passing instead of mutual invites to beach days. 

You were beginning to let a little slideshow of memories from that first year cloud your head when a song that already had you lifting out of your chair clamored inside the bar. “We dance till dawn!” You pulled your friends by their arms through the entrance, waving your wristbands at the bouncer before pushing your way to the middle of the dance floor. 

“Drinks!” Jennie beamed, remembering that they had finished the others outside. “I’ll be back!” She yelled over the music, pointing towards the bar. 

You and Sana gave her a thumbs up as you began to dance together, singing the lyrics so loud your throats would certainly punish you by night’s end. But you didn’t care. Today had been absolutely disastrous, ripping up old wounds that you wished would just stay permanently beneath their flimsy bandaid, so you were thankful for this music that was blaring so loud that thoughts weren’t even an option, the alcohol that was so potent you could barely remember Jungkook’s smug face from the house meeting today, and your friends that allowed you to be this happy on days this bad. 

A few songs passed and you and Sana were still dancing and getting so hyped up by every new spin that it took you a second to remember that Jennie definitely should’ve been back by now. You looked around, only to find a sight that made you let out a slight scream that was completely concealed by the music. You tapped Sana and began pointing towards the bar. She turned and immediately mirrored your excitement. 

Namjoon was leaning into Jennie at the bar, whispering something into her ear and you could see her smiling, redness once again blooming on her face. In your drunkenness you pulled out your phone and snapped severa blurry pictures, which were sure to be a great topic of discussion in the group chat tomorrow. You watched Jennie nod her head, smiling and pointing to the three drinks in her hand, and then she started back towards where you were. 

“Bitch, the drinks could’ve waited!” You tried to say over the music. “Go back and talk to him.” 

Jennie actually looked giddy as she handed over the drinks to you and Sana. “I am. He’s leaving soon though, but he asked if I wanted to grab something to eat with him at the diner down the street.” 

Sana jumped up and down in excitement. “So he basically asked you to marry him? Got it.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s totally gonna propose to me over my omelette.” She joked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Are you guys okay if I go?” 

“Of course, but I will be checking your location in fifteen minutes and if you are not at that diner I will hunt Namjoon’s ass down in two seconds,” You warned. “—Except if you decide you wanna skip the diner and go straight to fucking that’s cool too, just let us know.” 

Jennie threw out another giddy expression at the thought. “I’ll text you guys. Love you!” She said,  kissing her hand and throwing it out to you as she weaved back towards where Namjoon was waiting for her at the bar. 

“Fuck Disney,” You shouted to Sana. “Dreams come true at Pub too.”

She bent over, laughing as she tried to sip her drink. “Ugh, if only we could be that lucky. I’ve never had a TA even close to that hot.”

“Same, but maybe we’ll find something else tonight.” You motioned toward the back where you could see some of the soccer players hanging out. You eyed Jung Hoseok. The two of you had hooked up a few times last year, and getting laid would be a perfect ending to this bad to actually decent day. 

“Oh, I see.” Sana wiggled her brows, giving a knowing look. “Let’s go bump into them.” She grabbed your hand and began leading you through the crowd until you reached the area that the soccer players were idly standing around and sipping their drinks. You started a conversation about something random right behind Hoseok, and it was only a minute or so before he turned around and noticed the two of you. 

“Oh, look who it is.” He smiled, hugging you. “Been a while.” 

“I know your summer must’ve been so dull without me,” You flirted, sipping at your drink. 

“No question.” He leaned back against the wall, pulling you by the waist so you weren’t halfway on the dance floor and constantly being bumped into. Sana noticed the gesture and took that as her cue to let things simmer between you and Hoseok. 

“Y/N, I see Nayeon and Joy over there.” She pointed towards the other corner of the bar, where you saw the two Tri Delts mingling. “I’m gonna go over there, okay?” 

“Sounds good.” 

She leaned into your ear, whispering, “If you wanna go home with him just text me. I’ll catch a ride with them on the way back to the house.” 

“I’m ninety-five percent sure I will, but I’ll text you to make sure,” You whispered back. 

She squeezed your shoulder before pulling back. “Take care of her Jung. I’ve heard you’re very good at that.” Sana smiled like a tiny devil before running through the crowd, leaving you slightly slack-jawed. 

You bit your lip, a small warmth creeping into our face. “Please, ignore that,” You bit through an awkward laugh. 

“Why’re you embarrassed?” He smiled, shrugging before leaning next to your ear. “I mean I have taken care of you every single time we’ve been together, right?” 

His breath was hot against the side of your face, leaving you tingling. You lifted your hand, cupping his jaw as you pulled him back to look him in the face. “You can’t say things like that to me when we’re in a bar and you can’t do anything about it.” 

He smiled, eyes drifting to your mouth. “I mean we could always leave. It’s almost closing time anyways.” 

You smiled. “One more drink, after I finish this one.” 

“Perfect.” He leaned in, gave you a small peck on the lips before ruffling your hair a little and turning to say something to his friend. Presumably it was something about him getting laid tonight, which was exactly the same conversation you were about to have with your friend. 

You: the hookup is secure 

Sana: quick work. i’m proud 

Sana: joy and nayeon said that lisa is sick in the bathroom and they’re about to take her back to the house, so i was just going to catch a ride with them if you’re going with hoseok. sound good? 

You: oh really? i hope she’s okay. make sure she gets water at home. and yes i’ll be fine. we were gonna have one last drink and then go. i’ll text you when i make it to his place

Sana: sounds good. love you!

You slipped your phone back into your pocket after returning the sentiment. 

“Everything good?” Hoseok asked. 

“Yeah, one of our friends is sick so Sana was just letting me know she was gonna go home with her.” 

“Damn,” Hoseok tsked, jokingly.  “Does that mean I’m stuck with you for the night?” 

“It would seem so.” You smiled, and then he pulled you beneath his arm and adjusted the backwards cap on his head. 

“You know, I’m all for just fucking or whatever, but you’re really never gonna say yes to a date, are you?” 

You paused before answering, remembering that time last year that he’d asked about actually taking you out to dinner. You had thought about it, but in the end you just decided you had no desire to even slightly pivot in the direction of being any more than friends with benefits with someone. Though, if anyone were able to sway you away from that mindset after Jungkook, it would be Hoseok, but just not yet.

“If I let you take me to Steak n’ Shake after this, will that suffice?” You giggled at the way he rolled his eyes while still smiling. 

“I have leftovers in my fridge better than the food from there, so I’ll let you have that.” He paused, a slight glimmer filling his eyes. “Maybe I’ll light a candle, make it romantic, sort of like a date.” 

Your skin prickled slightly at the mention of the candle, a call back to one of their more… unconventional hook ups from last year.

“Is candle wax being melted onto my naked body and drunkenness really a good mix?” You asked, even though it had been one of the best feelings you had ever experienced. 

“Not that drunk, but it could always wait until the morning.” 

You tapped your finger to your lips as if you were pondering it. “Let me get my last drink and I’ll let you know my answer.” 

“I have a tab open.” He motioned towards the bar. “Just get it on mine.” 

“Thanks,” You said, even though you planned to pay for it yourself. Random guys you didn’t mind hustling a few free drinks from, but not guys you were actually sort of friends with. 

You walked up to the bartender. “Vodka Sprite,” You said over the thumping music. He nodded and then stepped to the left and made your drink. He handed it to you as you slipped him your credit card, motioning to close the tab out. 

You were already halfway done with sipping on the drink when the bartender returned a slight look of awkwardness on his face. “Uh, it declined.” 

Your brows furrowed. Your financial aid refund for school had definitely been deposited into your bank account. You knew this because you had jumped for joy when it hit and you were finally able to return to the sanctuary that is no-ads Hulu. There was enough to cover your dues for staying in the Tri Delt house this semester, so there should certainly have been enough to cover a four dollar drink. You were pondering what to do, maybe just put it on Hoseok’s tab like he said you could. It was probably just your actual bank having issues and it would sort itself out in the morning anyways. You were just about to say to put it on his tab when someone slid their muscled bicep right in front of your face with a credit card in hand. 

You knew that it was pathetic that you knew exactly who that bicep belonged to before he even turned to look at your face, black strands of hair hanging over his forehead.

“I got it,” Jungkook said to the bartender. 

“Why’d you do that?” You asked. 

“Because I was right behind you and heard him, and I know how embarrassed you get about things like that.” He shrugged, grabbing the paper and pen that the bartender slid back towards him. 

He was right. You had terrible secondhand embarrassment, let alone actual first hand embarrassment. “Well… thanks. I don’t know why it did that. I got my refund already.” 

“Just check your bank account. If the money’s in there then the bank system is probably just fucked up right now.” 

“Yeah…” You slid your phone out of your pocket and immediately went to your banking app and pressed your fingerprint down onto the login. You waited a few seconds, and when your balance appeared on the screen, you felt your heart drop. “What in the actual fuck?” You said, staring at your bank account with a whopping dollar and twenty cent in it. 

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, brows furrowed as he rounded to your side to look at your screen to see the low number that was not at all what it was yesterday. “I thought you said you got your refund?” 

You were shaking your head. “I… I did. I don’t know what the hell happened. Oh my god, I’m gonna freak the fuck out. I have to pay my housing cost for Tri-Delt with that money. Like what the fuck is going on—”

You felt Jungkook’s on your back, rubbing light circles. “Just breathe.” You stiffened at the touch, but didn’t try to pull away. “It’s probably just a financial aid fuck up. Call them tomorrow. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

You knew that he was probably right, but a creeping feeling was telling you otherwise. This was your fourth year in college dealing with the same exact scholarships every single semester and this had never happened before. 

“Fuck.” You brought your hands up to push at either of your temples. “That really just fucked up my whole mood. I’m not even horny anymore—” You cringed, realizing what you just said. “Please, just ignore me I’m drunk.” You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, not wanting to see the expression he’d made at your admission. 

“What’re you doing now? Where’s Sana and Jennie?” He asked, ignoring your flub and finally lowering his hand from your back. 

“They’re not here. Jennie left earlier and I told Sana I was gonna go home with… Hoseok, but now I just wanna go lay in bed by myself so I can spiral into every negative possibility of why my bank account looks like that.” 

“It’s gonna be fine.” This time he placed his hand on the back of your neck, cupping it slightly. It was a motion that had always for some reason calmed you down when things got overwhelming. It seemed he remembered. But even though you appreciated the comfort, the feeling of his hand there made something in your stomach flutter — that stupid feeling of longing seriously needed it’s wings shredded. You gripped his forearm, pulling it away from you, and you saw something shift in his eyes as you did so. 

“I guess I’m gonna go tell Hoseok that I’m just gonna go home—” But then you suddenly remembered something. “Fuck! I can’t Uber because I don’t have any money on my card.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This day was so bad and then actually pretty good, only to turn out fucking awful.” 

There was a couple of seconds of silence between the two of you, but you kept your eyes closed, trying to clear the fog in your head from all the alcohol to figure out what you were going to do. However, Jungkook finally let out a sigh before speaking. “Come on.”

“What?” You asked.

“All of these people are trying to get out of here at once and they’re ordering Uber’s at the same time.” He flashed his phone screen, showing that it was not only almost closing time, but that the next driver wouldn’t be available for thirty-two minutes with everyone having already ordered their rides. “It’s a twenty minute walk back to your house. I’ll just walk you there.” 

Even though Jungkook was currently the president of the Lambdas, he actually decided not to live in the frat house this year and instead opted for a cheaper apartment that was still near campus. You and Jungkook both relied on scholarships to pay for most of your schooling,  and fraternity and sorority dues on their own were not cheap, and living on Greek Drive only made that burden a million times worse. 

But the point was that Jungkook had no need to go to campus because he lived in a completely different direction now.

“You don’t even live there anymore. How’re you gonna get home?” You asked. 

“I’ll just sleep on the couch and get Tae or Jimin to drive me to my place in the morning.” He shrugged. 

You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of having to walk all the way back to campus with Jungkook,  considering just a five minute car ride earlier in the day had been sufficiently awkward all on its own. But you also were unfortunately no longer in the mood for sex, leaving Hoseok’s house out of the picture, and your bank account was for some reason drained, which resulted in you only having one option really. 

“Alright,” You finally said. “Just let me tell Hoseok and then we can go.” 

He nodded as you walked back towards the group of soccer players, tapping Hoseok on the shoulder. It seemed your dismay was painted plainly on your face because he immediately asked what was wrong. 

“I actually can’t hang out tonight. I just found out my bank account is fucked up and I can’t really think about anything else right now, so I was just gonna head home, but I wanted to let you know. I’m sorry.” 

“No, you’re fine,” He said, shaking his head. “Do you have a way home then?” 

You glanced towards Jungkook, releasing a heavy sigh. “Uhm, yeah, Jungkook was gonna walk me.” 

Hoseok’s eyes darted toward where you pointing, narrowing slightly. Most people knew about the feud between the Lambdas and the Tri Delts, which meant most people also knew the details about why there was a feud in the first place. 

“Are you sure you’re good with that?” Hoseok asked. 

Not really, but a twenty minute walk wasn’t going to kill you. “We’re fine, promise. Actually we’ve been… cordial lately.” You tried to say it like it was actually the truth, but you thought maybe if you spoke it into existence then it would actually come to fruition. 

Hoseok tilted his head, giving you a look that said he didn’t really believe you, but regardless he pulled you in for a hug. “Okay, let me know when you get home.” 

“I will,” You assured him before waving goodbye and making your way back towards Jungkook. 

“Ready,” He huffed, a slight annoyance seeming to coat his words as he pushed himself off of the wall and started towards the entrance. 

“Are you really gonna have an attitude?” You asked as you did a little jog to catch up with him. “I would’ve found another way if I knew you were gonna act like an ass.” 

“I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m just tired.” He placed his hand on one of your shoulders, moving you in front of him so the two of you could move through the mass of people more quickly until you were walking through the entrance and down the wooden ramp that connected to the outside deck. 

“Then why’d you offer? I could’ve called someone to pick me up.” 

“Because,” He paused, motioning towards the crosswalk that already had dozens of drunk college kids filing through it. “I couldn’t just leave you there, and I thought just taking you home would be quicker than you calling people to try and find a ride.” 

Ouch. He was just trying to be nice and you were calling him an ass. Heat flushed beneath your skin from embarrassment. “I’m sorry…” You finally said as you made it to the sidewalk and began the straight shot down the main road towards Greek Drive. “Thank you for making sure I got home alright.” You added, avoiding any eye contact and opting to walk a little bit in front of him. 

After about five entire minutes of silence you thought to yourself, yeah, this was going pretty much as expected. But you were thankful that at least there wasn’t any hostility. You didn’t want any more arguments like the ones from today.  You had seethed at each other after the two of you left President Kwon’s office. Had thrown insults at one another at the meeting between your houses. Like sure, maybe the silence hurt more than it should’ve. The idea that the guy you started dating and fell in love with when you were a junior in high school not even being able to fake a conversation with you for twenty minutes was mildly heartbreaking to say the least. But again, the silence was better than the anger that had fueled most of your interactions since breaking up the summer after starting college. 

You had become somewhat content with the lack of speaking. You were still a few steps ahead of Jungkook as he walked behind you, but he suddenly picked up speed and joined you, shoulder skating against yours before he was curving his hand around your waist and nudging you to go to the side of the sidewalk that wasn’t closest to the main road that was currently buzzing with post-bar traffic. 

“Wouldn’t want you falling face first into a Camero that someone’s Daddy bought them, Drunkie,” He said, offering a playful smile as he dropped his arm back down to his side. 

You were caught so off guard by the positive expression from Jungkook that it took you a second for your head to actually realize what he had even said. You pushed his shoulder. “I’m not even drunk anymore.”

“Well, considering I can literally smell the tequila on you, I’d rather not take any chances of you falling into oncoming traffic.” 

“You’re being nice.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Too nice.” 

“What?” He chuckled. “I’m just making an effort to try and fix things between us so that the members don’t see us constantly fighting and think it’s okay to do the same.” 

Ah, that’s what it was. He didn’t care if you guys actually patched this up, just that it looked like you did. 

“Well, we could always pretend to like each other, since the appearance is all that actually matters apparently.” You forced a smile and began walking a little bit faster. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes of being alone with him and his stupid presence that overwhelmed you with thoughts that you wished would just disappear. 

“That’s not what I meant,” He said almost immediately, not letting that unbearable plunge into silence return. “I would love it if we could be nice to each other and actually mean it… I just…” He trailed off, seeming to hesitate in whatever he was trying to say. 

“Just spit it out.” 

There was one more second of a brief pause before he spoke quietly. “I just don’t think that’s ever going to happen, because I know you still blame me for everything.” 

You tensed up, still keeping your pace of being slightly ahead of him. You inhaled a deep breath through your mouth before turning to look over your shoulder at him, his eyes already waiting to meet yours. 

“I don’t blame you.” You smiled, but with a sad furrowing of your brows. “I… resent you.” 

Jungkook’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening in surprise. “I mean, that’s… that’s even worse than blaming me.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.” 

His expression turned more puzzled. “How is you resenting me better than you blaming me?” 

“Because, blame implies that I think it’s your fault… Resentment just means I’m angry and upset, regardless of whether I think you were right or wrong for what happened.” You felt the bridge of your nose begin to tingle with that telltale sign of tears, so you quickly looked forward and urged them to stay hidden until you were at least in the comfort of your own room. “I’m just resentful of the things I now think and feel about myself, but that isn’t your fault. It’s my issue to deal with.” You shrugged. 

“What things do you think and feel about yourself?” He asked, and you could tell that he had hurried his pace and was a little closer behind you now. 

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want to talk about this. The two of you hadn’t had an in depth conversation like this since you’d first broken up. But things were different now compared to that first conversation. Back then it was raw and fresh, the pain too intense to notice what was growing underneath. Now it was a scar, and you were left with all of the emotions, feelings, and implications of how and why things ended. 

“I… I don’t really wanna talk about it honestly.” You said that, but you also wanted Jungkook to understand that you were perfectly aware of how you had acted the past few years. You may have said and acted in ways that seemed bitchy and ridiculous, but it was because of these disgusting emotions that were now plaguing your mind constantly, and maybe it was time he knew. “I kind of wish we had broken up over this giant fight that was about something unfixable. Something where we both clearly did things wrong and we were both through with each other because there was no way either of us were going to change our minds. I think I could’ve dealt with that so much better than what you actually broke up with me for. Which was just the fact that you thought I was...” You trailed off, the word that bombarded your thoughts mercilessly landing on your tongue. “Boring.”

You heard the way his shoes scratched against the concrete at his screeching halt, and he clearly thought that that was going to stop you as well, but you kept going, not actually wanting to hear any response from him. You said your piece and now maybe he would understand. But of course you knew that he wasn’t just going to let it end like that, which was made apparent when you felt him suddenly gripping your arm, trying to get you to slow down for a second. 

“I never said or even thought that about you, Y/N, ever.” He tried to pull you to look at him, but you twisted your body and threw a hand over your face to cover your eyes that were already glistening. 

“No, stop,” You said firmly, and he ceased with trying to get you to look at him. “I told myself after that night in my room I was never going to let you see me cry over you ever again, and if I look at you right now, I will. I just know I will, so please just stop.” 

He didn’t say anything for a minute, leaving just the sound of grasshoppers and the random gust of cars passing by. You thought maybe he would just let it go and you could continue the last few minutes of the walk without speaking, but you had verbalized your thoughts and Jungkook was without a doubt going to respond. 

“I know how it’s easy to think that,” He started, his voice a whisper with his hand still wrapped around your arm, as if he was afraid you would bolt down the street without letting him finish if he let you go. “But that’s not why I ended things. You were the first girl I ever actually dated, and when we got here I just started thinking about—”

“—All of your new exciting options.” You cut in, anger flaring before you could stop it. 

“Y/N…” He trailed off, squeezing your arm. “That’s not what it was—”

“—No,” You said before he could try and dance his way through some explanation of how he just wanted to go crazy in college without actually saying it out loud. “You don’t have to explain it again. I’d rather you didn’t actually. I remember in excruciating detail the way you explained it that night. I understand, I get it… So, p-please,” Your voice cracked, finally being too overwhelmed by this entire situation. “Let’s just keep walking and not talk about it anymore. Please.” 

It turned so quiet I could even hear how hard Jungkook was breathing. It sounded heavy but unnatural, like he was trying to forcibly steady his heartbeat. And after a few seconds you felt him finally drop his hand from your arm and you didn’t wait for him to say a single word before you started down the sidewalk again.

The Tri Delt house was five minutes away, leading to five minutes of complete and utter silence between two people that was so palpable it blocked out the scratching of your shoes as you walked and the rustle of tiny animals running through the trees next to you. It engulfed you in this tunnel of noiselessness. 

Eventually you saw the bend at the end of the street where yours and Jungkook’s houses sat next to one another. It was only a little bit away, yet it felt so far. Twenty minutes. All it had taken was twenty minutes of the two of you not partaking in your back and forth hostility from the last few years for you to break down again. It felt pathetic. It was completely pathetic. 

You were finally approaching the point where the Tri Delt and Lambda house split into opposite directions. All you had to do was keep walking straight while Jungkook veered to the left and— 

You felt the light tug at the belt loop of your jeans, stopping you in place, just like from earlier today after the suspension meeting. You were about to tell him to let you go, when he beat you to the punch. 

“You’re not boring, Y/N. You never have been.” He was so close you could feel his breath hitting the back of your head. “It was one of the millions of reasons that I loved you. I just wanted you to know that.” 

And then he was gone. The pressure of someone tugging you in place disappearing, leaving you to catch your balance as you finally stood alone. You forced yourself to stare straight ahead as you walked towards your front door, not daring to look at him as he walked to the Lambda house. You shoved your keys inside the lock, forcing it open and then taking the stairs by two’s until you were collapsing in your bed, fingers crushing your pillow as you finally let yourself cry. 

——--

A phone was ringing inside of your dreams. It was ringing and ringing and ringing until you realized the sound was coming from some otherworldly place — oh yeah, that would be the current hell that is your life. 

You blinked a couple of times, blindly reaching for the source of the noise that was lost somewhere in your bed. You finally felt your hand slide across the leather of your phone case. You brought it up to read the name and you felt your stomach curl. 

‘Jungkook the Jackass’ was calling. And if it weren’t for the fact that he was calling you at seven in the morning you probably would’ve just sent him straight to voice mail in order to avoid any further conversations about what transpired last night. But alas, it was seven in the morning and just seemed to be too early of a time for him to be calling about something mundane. 

You regretfully lifted the phone to your ear. “Yes?” You grumbled, voice scratchy. 

“We have a problem.” No mention of last night. It was just a clear cut declaration that did not sound good. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, sitting up from bed. 

“Come outside your house. Now.” 

Your eyes widened and you instantly jumped from bed. He sounded urgent enough that you decided your flimsy nighttime apparel was going to have to do. You hurried down the stairs and opened the front door, revealing Jungkook in the front yard staring at something. 

“What is it?” You asked, arms crossing over your chest as you tried to hide your bralessness. 

Jungkook pressed his lips together as he pointed towards the front of the Tri Delt house. “My idiot Lambda Brothers.” 

You followed the direction of his finger, your mouth dropping at the sight before you. 

Dozens and dozens and dozens of boxers covering every inch of the first story of the house. You turned towards Jungkook, so angry and anxiety-riddled that someone from administration had already seen this, that you could hardly speak. 

“I’m going to murder them,” You finally managed to spit through clenched teeth. 

“No,” He started, turning to you, mirroring your own frustration. “I’m going to murder them.” 

→ part 02

[deltas-writing-corner]

Tsukumo Yuki relationship headcanons

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Tsukumo Yuki x reader

Author note: Tsukomo Yuki is the reason I love woman and she can crush me between her thighs send tweet

Warnings: Potential manga spoilers (?) | Mentions of s*x, but nothing too blatantly explicit. I would still prefer it if minors did not interact with this post in any way.

Yuki always asks the people she meets what type of woman they like. If someone were to ask that same question back to her, she’ll most certainly utter back your name as if it were an obvious response.

What’s not to love about you? You’re cute. You make her laugh. You cook for her because heaven knows she can't if her life depended on it. Most importantly, you keep her company due to the lack of curses she’s ever sent to exorcise. Traveling the world is fun and all, but it’s even more fun with you by her side!

You’re not a sorcerer. You can’t even see curses. Yuki is a childhood friend of yours and has kept you in the loop regarding the world of jujutsu sorcery since she started integrating into it. She thinks it’s important for you to know that someone like you, a non-curse user who has no control over the curse energy you create, should know what exactly your negative emotions can lead to. It’s not to make you feel bad or pin blame on you in any way. It’s her way of protecting you beyond physical means as well as a way of showing you that she places a great deal of trust in you regarding the nature of her line of work and her true goals.

Because she rejects the methods of the higher-ups and her ideology is more along the lines of putting an end to the creation of curses permanently instead of letting them manifest and dealing with them when they start causing profound trouble, you’re often the one that has to listen to all her new, sometimes overreaching, hypotheses now and then. You may even take part in her research, but she would never put you in any sort of harm! At least, not unless you give her the okay to. Be warned, if you give your blessing to be her little lab rat she’s prone to get carried away with her methods. Speak up if she’s doing something outrageous or if she’s making you uncomfortable. Otherwise, you might end up in some precarious situations.

As mentioned previously, Yuki isn’t sent out on missions that often, if ever. She instead chooses to travel in and out of the country, for the sake of her research as well as for the pleasure of it. Since she’s one of three, later four, special grade sorcerers her salary is rather tremendous. Unfortunately, her travels outside Japan are “unauthorized” and sometimes her funds get frozen by the higher-ups. Her quick solution to the matter is to fly back, take on a mission or two to get her funds unfrozen (and into your account because you’re her partner-in-crime) or even take on a mission to earn some more funds, and then you and her are right back to traveling the world again.

During one of these money replenishing heists, she met a kid that she took a particular interest in and wanted to mentor, Aoi Todo. It’s hard for most people to spark her interest to the extent Todo did, so you happily supported her endeavors and even met with her young pupil a few times throughout the years. Her methods of training are a bit....extreme, to put it lightly. You understand that holding back her punches will only hinder Todo’s progress instead of allowing him the ability to improve and push past his limits, but you can’t help but flinch over the large scar that marks his face whenever you briefly meet up with him.

Todo is eccentric, but so is Yuki. Perhaps not idol obsessed like Todo, but seeing the way he takes great care of his appearance and flaunts his body (during a battle even), he’s a near-identical clone of Yuki. She knows that she’s good-looking, and she will always flaunt this fact to anyone with working eyes, even you! Does it work every single time? Yes. Yes, it does.

Honestly, how can it not? She’s tall. She has a great butt. She drives a motorcycle. Her tight biker pants are your Achilles heels and she knows it. Sometimes she’ll wear them around the house just to flaunt her curves and other bodily goods, even if it’s the middle of the summer, the AC is broken and the pants are made of stuffy leather material. If it gets your face all heated up, she'll wear it.

The compliments she gets from strangers are nice and all, but it’s your reactions she truly cares about. You’ve been by her side through it all. You're still sticking with her even despite the fact that she’s constantly moving around and living a somewhat free-spirited lifestyle. You genuinely support and help her when almost everyone else has rejected her methods and ideals and brush her off as some lazy, outrageous-thinking woman. Really, you stole this woman’s heart just by letting her be herself, a lazy, outrageous-thinking woman.

Yuki is indeed lazy, to the point it sometimes affects you and your shared apartment is left in a week-long accumulated mess. I’m talking clothes strewed about and spilling out the already full laundry basket, sink filled with dirty dishes, houseplant half dead due to insufficient watering, and little dusty bunnies in the corner of the room. Whenever you try to get around to getting your living space in order, she always drags you back to the bed with her either to nap some more or for a quick round of sex that leads to more napping. Eventually, you have to beat her with a pillow and threaten her with no sex for a certain period of time to get her to back off, which always works without fail.

If you really hold the “no sex until...” ultimatum over her head long enough, she’ll even pitch in and help you clean. But to be honest she kinda sucks at it so it’s sometimes better to just have her sit on the sidelines while you do all the work. She’ll jokingly suggest you clean with just an apron on (because she’s a freak like that), but you haven’t taken her up on the suggestion just yet. It’s mostly because you’ll use the “naked apron” method to further insinuate her punishment if your usual threat begins to lose its potency (because you are also a freak like that).

She’s a bad sleeping partner. Not only does she hog all the blankets and pillows, but she even stretches out her limbs over the entire bed. This usually leaves you curled up in a corner shivering your ass off until you either fall asleep via exhaustion or move to the couch. If you go to the couch, she’s 99.9% likely to wake up and join you shortly after, where she’s less of a hassle to deal with because of the limited space.

She’s a great big spoon, which is actually one of the ways you later use to solve her troublesome habits as once she latches onto you, she will not let go the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, she also snores terribly loud, but it’s nothing earbuds can’t fix.

Some might think she sleeps in something flattering, maybe even a bit scanty. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. Her pj’s are decades-old shirts and gym shorts that she never got around to getting rid of. If not that, she’ll sleep completely naked and she doesn’t care if someone walks in on her with the covers off. She’ll only ever wear lingerie or other promiscuous pieces of clothing if she has intentions of getting between your legs and rocking your world for the rest of the night.

I think it goes without saying that she looks great in lace, but as hot as she may look, she really likes seeing you dressed up in something risque as well.

If you’re female, she sometimes likes to wear matching lingerie sets with you, but her favorite material to see you in is leather, especially those harness-styled sets that squeeze your flesh all around.

If you’re male, she’s a complete sucker for a man in a clean-cut, custom-tailored suit and will take it off as soon as you put it on. Hope you don’t mind losing a button or two, because she will pop them off for sure when she rips your dress shirt off of you.

To all my gender-neutral folks, It’s never too late to whip out that naked apron I mentioned earlier! Or a leather jacket. Everyone looks great in a leather jacket!

Yuki’s diet is fucking terrible. You’re a decent cook, but despite this, all she ever seems to want is greasy take-out food that makes you wonder how the hell she’s still so fit after witnessing her down three chicken burritos in one sitting. Even when the two of you are abroad and are able to try out different types of cuisines not so readily available in Japan, she’ll still want to go out to a fast food joint that you can easily find everywhere. You’ve tried to get her to branch out of her comfort zone and eat somewhat healthier alternatives of her favorite foods, but so far you’ve gotten mixed results.

In summary: Yuki is a pretty outgoing person and sometimes can be a bit of a hassle to deal with, but she’s clearly ambitious and moves to the tune of her own beat. Her goal of finding and effectively eliminating the source of all curses is a testament to the fact that she wants to save future generations from having to carry the burden sorcerers have been carrying for thousands of years. Her goals are not only for the sake of the people who will come after her, but also for the sake of her future with you. You’re someone she genuinely cares for and wishes to spend the rest of her life with, evident by the numerous times she’s come clean to you about her fears of you dying when she isn't around to protect you or of her dying and leaving you behind to mourn during late-night pillow talks in hotels or in your shared home. A future where you and her can travel the world and truly take in and enjoy the sights and wonders instead of searching for an answer to one of the world’s greatest phenomenon is a future worth fighting for, even if she’s met with some pushback or the end goal seems like nothing more than a pipedream at times. So long as you’re there with her to see her research bear fruit, she’ll keep testing and coming up with new methods to eliminate curses permanently, no matter the extremes her research takes her to.

[amiedala]

SOMETHING DEEPER

CHAPTER 4: An Open Wound

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, canon-compliant violence, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of past abuse/trauma

SUMMARY:  “I don’t expect you to follow what I say. I’m not a dictator, and I have no interest in becoming one. But if a single one of you brings danger to this planet you claim to love to hurt me or my wife,” Din continues, and the way his lips shape around the word wife makes something warm and wet unhinge in Nova, “there will be no place in this galaxy where you can hide from me.”

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hello my loves and happy Something Deeper Saturday! this chapter is truly a whirlwind, it's hard and sweet and intense and simple all at once. there are very graphic descriptions of violence and death in the one (in the form of Force visions, no one's actually dying, I PROMISE!!!), so please be aware that there is potentially triggering material in what you're about to read. it mentions past abuse and dives pretty deep into current violence, so please just read with caution! i hope you enjoy this journey—i certainly did writing it! more notes at the end!!! <3

*

Mandalore isn’t a ghost town.

Not how Nova originally thought, anyway. The throne room is filled with wary, armored people. Some are the guards that usually stand watch outside, through the giant palace doors. Nova recognizes Koska Reeves and Axe Woves from the brief, charged encounters she’s had with each of them. Bo-Katan is there, of course, regal and pristine, her shoulders pushed back, her red hair impeccable. There are a handful of villagers that Nova’s seen in passing, but besides the few faces she recognizes, most of the people gathered in the throne room have been hidden somewhere on Mandalore, away from this strange Capitol, away from the everyday. Half of them are without armor, without impressive beskar helmets to hide their wary expressions. Bo-Katan’s icy, measured gaze is clearly a popular currency on Mandalore, because every single person in this room looks skeptical at best and enraged at worst. Nova keeps her eyes on Din, who’s decided to stand at the helm of the dais instead of taking a seat on the beskar throne, watching his every movement to ensure he’s safe up there, and that he stays unharmed.

“I want...to be your leader,” Din says, his voice quiet but earnest. He sounds like he’s incredulous at his own words, like he’s reading off a script he’s never seen before. But there’s power hidden underneath whatever’s scaring him, an undercurrent that Nova knows is unfettered, genuine passion. “I wasn’t raised in the way of Mandalore. Not in the ways that you were—”

“Clearly,” Koska whispers, and the Mnadalorians standing closest to her proximity offer uncharacteristic smiles and snorts. Nova steps forward, but Bo-Katan raises her sharp hand at her side, and they immediately fall silent.

Din looks back at Nova, and for the first time, she can see the fear in his eyes. She nods, encouragingly, even though she has absolutely no clue what point he’s trying to make. Every time she closes her eyes, even if it’s only for a heartbeat, she sees the strange, young hologram of her face, with the word MURDER, MURDER, MURDER flashing back at her, a ceaseless and terrible pattern. Nervously, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, realizing that she’s the only person in this room who isn’t outfitted in Mandalorian regalia. Her black shirt has remnants of dust on the sleeves from the amphitheater. Her pants saw their best days weeks ago. Her shawl, the only proof that she wears any sort of allegiance to the throne, Mandalorian blue and regal, is thrown haphazardly over her rounded shoulders. The boots on her feet are older than her relationship with Din, picked up planets and planets ago, somewhere sunny and warm and an entire lifetime away. When Din’s panicked brown eyes find hers again, Nova smiles, taking a half-step forward, trying to portray anything other than her own frenzied state, the hammering heartbeat that could likely be heard outside of the palace.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Din finally continues, turning back to the crowd. Even from this angle, with most of his face obscured, Nova knows how hard it is for him to stand here, in front of dozens of people, without his helmet, how many rules he thinks he’s breaking, how this must feel like agony. He reaches for the Darksaber hanging on his belt, and when it ignites, every single face in the room is on Din, on that horrific, captivating blade of electricity and death. “I won this in battle. Twice. Both were accidents,” He inhales heavily, studying the flickering, wicked blade. “But they still happened. I wasn’t born on Mandalore. I wasn’t raised here, either. I’ve given some of you this speech before, when I first took the throne.” He exhales through his nose, and Nova wets her dry lips. Her throat feels like the middle of the day on Tatooine, parched and treacherous. “I...I am not a Mandalorian in the way that you’re Mandalorians.” Nova chances another half-step forward, letting the captive, tensioned room blur in her vision as she just focuses on Din. There’s a tremor in his voice, something alive and unsteady, something she only notices because she’s spent over a year studying every inch of him, memorizing Din right down to his bloodstream. “I follow a Creed that you don’t. I’ve spent most of my life trying...trying to be a good soldier, a true Mandalorian. I know I’m not the leader you wanted. I’m not even sure if I’m the leader I wanted. But I’m the one we’ve got, at least for right now. And—” Din exhales sharply, his breath strained, and Nova knows he’s suppressing a sigh, “I swear, I will try my best to do right by this planet. But—but I’m not only the reigning Mand’alor. I’m—”

“Right,” Axe interjects, but there's no malice in his tone. Nova stiffens, crossing her arms over her chest, staring over at him. But he doesn’t look threatening. His smile seems genuine, like he;s just attempting to get Din to lighten up. “And a bounty hunter. A damn good one, at that. He’s caught me twice.”

“Three times,” Nova corrects, and her eyes go wide when she realizes that everyone’s attention is now on her. “But,” she continues, rather nervously, trying to square back her shoulders in a shoddy imitation of Bo-Katan to not display that nervousness, “Din hasn’t been just a bounty hunter in a long time.”

Din sheathes the Darksaber, and instead turns his outstretched hand to Nova. Heart pounding, she slides her hand into his large, gloved one, trying not to show the massive tremble in her fingers. Quietly, he reaches for the Skywaker lightsaber hanging from her belt, and when Nova hesitates, he lets her hand close over the grip instead. Bo-Katan moves forward, so quickly Nova doesn’t even notice, and when she ignites the crisp, illuminated blue blade, half of the people gathered in the throne room draw a weapon. Nova’s expecting Bo-Katan to do the same, but she raises one impeccable eyebrow and turns back towards the room.

“Stop,” she says, and immediately, the majority of the room lowers whatever weapon of choice they’re gripping. Nova manages a tiny, stuttered breath. “She’s not going to hurt us.”

“She,” a voice says from the back of the room, “is wanted by multiple parties. Contacts all over the galaxy will pay a pretty price for Andromeda Maluev, you know. I accepted the cult member as Mand’alor. I accepted you standing down from the throne, Bo-Katan. I will not accept harboring a criminal,” he continues, voice as icy as Hoth, “and a Jedi, at that.”

Din moves forward, all tension, all rage, but Bo-Katan holds up that same, steady hand, and the man making his way across the foreground halts in the same beat that Din does. Nova pulls her own lightsaber back, pocketing it, pulling the shawl higher over her shoulders, trying to unclench her jaw before all of her teeth break off in her mouth. She’s tired. So tired. Exhausted, slogging through this conversation, her heartbeat accelerating, stars shooting out behind her eyes. And still, this time, when she closes them, all she sees is MURDER, MURDER, MURDER.

“Her name,” Bo-Katan returns, measured and cool, “is Novalise Djarin. And yes, she is wanted by both the scum that still survived after the Empire’s demise, and a middleman somewhere in between which we cannot identify yet. Yes, she is a Jedi, or at least is certainly heading in that way. Yes, I stood down from the title. But that wasn’t because I was weak, or because I wanted them on the throne.”

“Bo-Katan—”

“Nova,” Bo-Katan interjects, “I’ve got this.” She steps off the lowest stair on the dias, posture perfect, right arm curled around her distinctive helmet. Everything in her screams royalty, regality. Behind her eyes is a fire so much stronger than the ice in her voice. “I didn’t want this. Neither did you. But Din won the Darksaber, fair and square. And Mandalore isn’t what it used to be. None of us are, either. We’re good at surviving, but we’re even better at fighting. And I believe,” she says, pointedly, glancing over at Din, who’s still coiled in an attack position, “that was the point our Mand’alor was getting to. So let him finish. With your mouths closed.”

The man who spoke, wizened but grizzled, exhales angrily through his nose, but his mouth stays clamped shut. Bo-Katan stands at attention, nodding back at Din.

“War is coming,” Din continues stiffly, and half of the people crowded around the room roll their eyes or mutter under their breath.

“War is always coming,” another woman enunciates, “it’s what the galaxy knows best.”

“War is coming,” Din repeats, and Nova has to force herself to unfurl her palms. Before she can even try to jump to his aid, though, he walks down the steps and presses his flat palm against the holotable. Reflected in the glittering dome above them is thousands of pixels of blue light. Nova’s juvenile mugshot is up there for the entire room to see, but so are statistics from every mission they’ve engaged in, anything even remotely related to the Order. Hundreds of faces swarm the screen, all with interwoven lines connecting them to other profiles and rotating planets. There, at the center of the screen, is the First Order’s name in menacing, large letters. Underneath are the silhouettes of Luke, Nova, and Grogu. When Din opens his mouth this time, his words are vivid and clear. “I know that Mandalore has been razed and sieged. I know that in your eyes, I’m not one of you. I know that none of you signed up for another battle. But I also know that fighting,” Din says, his voice weary, but his dark eyebrow raised, “is what’s in our blood. All of us.”

“I won’t follow a ruler who isn’t a true Mandalorian,” the same man finally continues. He steps towards them, and his face is angry and ghastly in the flickering blue light. His rage is barely concealed, and Nova’s hand flies unconsciously to the lightsaber hanging from her belt. “And I certainly won’t protect a Jedi who doesn’t belong here.”

“Well, then,” Nova says, and she’s so bone-dead tired that she doesn’t realize she’s the one who’s speaking until the second word is out of her mouth, “good thing I can protect myself.” She chances a glance at Din, who could very easily be aggravated at her stoking the fire. The only thing written across his face, though, is pride. Nova’s eyes flicker over to Bo-Katan, who is somehow, unbelievably, wearing the same exact expression.

Din slams his fist down on the holotable, sending all of the blue light back into the atmosphere it came from. The low light of the war room is returned to its usual state, but no one speaks. “I don’t expect you to follow what I say. I’m not a dictator, and I have no interest in becoming one. But if a single one of you brings danger to this planet you claim to love to hurt me or my wife,” Din continues, and the way his lips shape around the word wife makes something warm and wet unhinge in Nova, “there will be no place in this galaxy where you can hide from me.”

Still, no one moves.

“Mand’alor,” Bo-Katan snaps, icily, all of her usual vigor and venom back in her voice, and it’s like she’s given an order no one can deny. Half of the Mandalorians nod in wary agreement, and the other half keep their low mumbles close to their chests, all of them shuffling out of the throne room, presumably to disperse outside. When the heavy door closes shut, with only the three of them remaining, Bo-Katan turns back to Nova. Din is already climbing the steps back up the dais where the menacing beskar throne sits to retrieve his fallen helmet. When he pulls it back over his handsome face, it’s like closing an open wound.

Nova looks at Bo-Katan, who doesn’t look nearly as threatening in this low light. Her hair is slightly ruffled, and the hard set of her jaw is tense, electric. “Bo-Katan,” Nova whispers, and her gaze snaps impeccably back to Nova’s. “Thank you,” Nova continues, earnest, “for defending me. Defending us. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” Bo-Katan counters, but there’s the ghost of a small smile on her beautiful, cold face. “They were wrong, and they needed to hear that. See? I’m not always a total bitch.”

The word—so commonplace, so foreign—sounds absolutely ludicrous coming out of her mouth that it makes Nova laugh out loud. The sound is both musical and jarring, and the tension held in Bo-Katan’s shoulders evaporates, even if it’s only momentarily.

“Noted,” Nova says, smiling. Maker and all the stars above, she’s exhausted. Bo-Katan glances back at Din, armored and impenetrable, and then back at Nova.

“You need sleep,” Bo-Katan allows, pulling her own helmet back over her head. “Both of you. I’ll stay down here and monitor any incoming correspondence. I’m too wired to go to bed anytime soon.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” Bo-Katan interrupts, and her usual edge is back in her tone. “And I will. Go.” She raises that commanding arm again, and Nova’s too exhausted to resist. She wants to take a shower and wash the last few days off of her, and then sleep for three more. Her scar hurts. Her shoulders ache. Her head feels impossibly heavy. Silently, she lets Din lead her over to the heavy double doors, her ears buzzing with fatigue, but before they step into the hall, Nova hears her name chase her across the war room. In tandem, she and Din turn, watching Bo-Katan ignite the blue holotable. There’s something unreadable about her, even under the helmet. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bo-Katan says, finally, and the heaviness of her words is louder than the doors when they close on her impenetrable face.

*

Steam from the shower fills the entire fresher. It’s wet and hot, the humidity seeping deep into Nova’s skin, burrowing under the residual ache from the last few days, nestling between her cold bones from the chill back on Ahch-To, the frigidity back on Hoth. Din joins her once he wrestles off the rest of the armor, and before Nova can explain she wants him, but it’s impossible right now with how exhausted she is, how she can barely keep her eyes open, Din wordlessly lathers up his hands with her favorite, clean-smelling soap, gently raking the suds through her hair.

Nova sighs in the silence, letting her shoulders hunch over, her body weight alleviated by sagging against the warm shower walls and by the soft grip Din has on her arms, making sure she stays upward. For what feels like years, they stand together under the warm running water, reveling in the steam, the heat, without either of them needing to say anything. Din wraps Nova’s long hair up in the freshly washed towel, while she dries off the residual runoff down her arms, her thighs.

The room is cool and dark in the blue twilight, that same fog and haze sinking over the horizon. Wherever the rest of the Mandalorians went, they’ve all but disappeared off the face of the planet. Everything is an eerie kind of quiet, no bugs, no animals, no clamor, nothing that signifies any kind of sentient life outside of the castle. Most nights, that kind of awful silence makes Nova wired, like it permeates even into her dreams, but not here, not now. She has what feels like years’ worth of sleep to catch up on, and the second that Din pulls back the fluffy, silk comforter on their giant bed, Nova steps out of the towel and into the soft cocoon. Din’s barely even settled up behind her before she drifts off somewhere peaceful, somewhere that’s not here.

*

She sleeps. For hours, maybe days, Nova sleeps. It’s dreamless and empty, warm and safe. Usually, nightmares flicker and flash through her mind, her legs sprinting away from whatever menace or threat is chasing her, but not tonight. Nothing wakes Nova up, not the strange quiet, not Din tossing next to her, not the immeasurable weight of saving the galaxy on her shoulders. She sleeps, uninterrupted and powerfully, swaddled up under the light blue blankets that are somehow keeping all the bad things away.

In the end, it’s not a nightmare that startles her away, nor is it Din’s unshaven face pressing into the crook of her neck. It’s the sleepy, quiet beeping of her commlink, which has somehow been removed from its usual place on her wrist and is buried under the extra pillows that stand sentinel over their bed when neither Nova or Din is there.

Din, at this very moment, is also nowhere to be found, and Nova rakes a hand through her hair, tries and fails to suppress a yawn, and digs through the array of pillows on the floor until she can see the bright, red light. “Hello?” she asks, her voice still off somewhere in dreamland, and she rubs sleep from her eyes as she collapses down on the bed, body still stuck in sleep.

“Hey,” Nova hears, and it’s halfway through another yawn before she realizes it’s Cara calling. “Listen, I’d love to actually catch up, but—”

“You have news?” Nova asks, suddenly wide awake. She smooths the comforter out under her hand, crossing one of her legs underneath the other. Outside, the sky is dark.

“I have news,” Cara confirms, grimly. “I know Wedge called you to Hoth a week or so ago because there was a prison break somewhere outside of my jurisdiction.”

Nova nods before she remembers Cara can’t see her. “Yeah,” she adds, belatedly. “Yeah, but no one seemed suspicious or in league with the Order, and it was a holding cell full of minor offenders, so it was kind of a dead end.”

“Well, it was,” Cara sighs, “until it wasn’t. We were right, kind of, because no one who escaped was linked to the First Order. But the night after that prison break happened, your photo with your old name and manufactured crimes popped up as a hit from the Guild.”

Nova’s heart sinks. Something suffocating is blocking her airway, and she tries to swallow past the feeling before she can exhale. “What does that mean?” she manages, barely, hand fluttering around her necklace, pressing into the embossed star.

“Someone’s setting you up,” Cara continues, and her voice is gentler than Nova’s ever heard it. “Someone who likely knows you or Din, knows how to get under your skin. The reason why this is so dangerous is because whoever did it knows exactly what they’re doing. I’ve tried, and Karga has tried, but we can’t even identify where the hit originated from, let alone who put it out. We’re not going to stop looking, but it’s going to be hard to figure out who did it. And because the warrant is for you alive or dead…” Cara trails off, the silence buzzing and dangerous.

Nova closes her eyes before she fills in the blanks. “I’m going to be in danger anywhere I go.”

“Listen,” Cara tries, but it’s too late. Nova’s still exhausted, she’s in pain, she has no idea where Din went, and all she wants to do is to bury her face in Grogu’s head and smell his sweet, reassuring baby smell. Her heart aches. “Novalise, I’m not going to let them get to you. You have some of the strongest forces in the galaxy who’ve got your back.”

“Yeah,” Nova whispers, “and I appreciate that, Cara, I do, so much, but—but Mandalore isn’t exactly a safe haven, either. The planet knows I can use the Force, and besides that, most of the people Din’s supposed to be ruling hate our guts. I’m not scared of being left to defend myself, because it’s kind of what I’ve learned to be best at. But with what you’re telling me, there’s not a single safe place left in the galaxy for me right now.”

Cara’s silence is deafening. Nova’s heart sinks just a little bit deeper, swimming around somewhere in her stomach. “It’s not forever,” she says, but her voice is a little too glum to be anywhere near reassuring.

“I’m so tired,” Nova admits, feeling tears bubbling up at the corners of her eyes. “And I can’t rest, because that’s when someone can get me. I mean—what would you do, if you were me, Cara?”

Nova can hear Cara moving, a soft rustle underneath the comm. When she speaks again, her voice is low and clear, like she’s telling a secret that only Nova can hear. “I would do what we both know you’re going to do. You’re the rebel girl, remember?” She pauses. “So rebel.”

Nova watches as the comm clicks off, everything in her body electric, a live wire. Before she can bolt to Kicker, or try to find where Din’s hidden in the chambers of the palace, or call Wedge and tell him she’s coming back to Hoth, the door opens, and Din walks in.

“Hi,” Nova breathes, suddenly very aware she’s not wearing any clothes, which is completely ridiculous, because Din has seen, ravaged, and worshipped every inch of it. “Where were you?”

She watches as Din crosses over the floor, the low light of the day catching on his armor. He sighs, moving closer to Nova until he’s standing in between her open legs. Halfheartedly, he hooks his fingers under the rim of the helmet, but gives up completely the second Nova’s hands reach to pull it off instead. Underneath, his mustache isn’t manicured, his hair has been weighed down by the metal, and he looks about as exhausted as she feels.

“Ruling,” Din says, tiredly, and there’s a flint to it Nova hardly hears. He lets out a small scoff in the silence, and she reaches out the smooth palm of her right hand for his cheek to nestle against. “Trying to get the people of this planet to recognize I’m not here to destroy it, or that you—we’re not the enemy.” He catches his slip almost as quickly as it comes out of his mouth, but still, Nova’s heart sinks deep down in her chest again. “I didn’t—look, Nova, I’m not blaming you—”

“It’s okay,” she whispers, even though they both know it’s not. For a second, Din just stares at her, and then he presses his forehead against hers. The warmth his skin gives off is almost enough to make her forget about where they are, about the people that refuse to see her as an ally, about having to save the galaxy from forces that want her dead or for their own malicious intent. “They’ll come around,” she offers, her voice barely there, and Din shakes his head, his hair rustling against Nova’s forehead.

“What if they don’t?” Din asks, and by the weight in his voice, it’s clear he’s not just talking about Mandalore accepting her as the Mand’alor’s riduur, as an ally, as on their side, but about the infiltrated Guild that’s out to kill her, and the First Order that’s out for worse.

Nova’s quiet for a long time, just listening to him breathe, trying to map both of their heartbeats, yearning for the constellations hiding above the hazy Mandalore sky. “What if we can’t do it?” she whispers, her mouth hollow, her head aching. “Any of this? What if we can’t pull this off, Din?” She doesn’t point out the specifics, the weight of planets hanging over both of their heads. They both know what she means. The silence is horrible, but Nova keeps her eyes closed, just like she used to, predicting every move Din will make in the dark.

“Then we don’t,” Din breathes back, and Nova’s about to resist, tears springing back to life in her eyes, and then Din’s mouth is on hers and nothing else matters. She lets him sprawl her back on the bed, the smooth satin coaxing and cool under her skin. Stars are burning out behind her eyes, the same celestial imprints that flood through hyperspace, something more, something deeper, something beyond this planet, this moment, this darkness. When Din’s mouth leaves Nova’s, her eyes stay shut, and his lips trail down to her ear. “I’d give everything else up but you.”

They both know he’s lying—Din’s heart is too big, Nova’s purpose is too bright—but neither of them say it out loud. Nova keeps his words in the hollow of her mouth, something shiny and devastating, a supernova or a pearl.

Din kisses Nova like he’s never had her before, low and desperate. It’s an echo of what happened in the amphitheater just hours ago, but it’s sustained, huge, warm. His mouth is made to devour, and if he’s whispering anything to feel the silence, Nova can’t hear it. She’s focused on where his kisses are trailing, desperate and hot and everything she didn’t know she needed. It’s freezing in here, but he’s so warm, his body heat louder than the cold.

“Kiss me,” Din whispers, his voice rough, a plea. One of his hands comes up and braces against Nova’s chin, not an order, but a question. She reaches towards his neck, trying to pull him down, to anchor their bodies together. It’s dark in their room. Without the stars shining above, it’s even darker.

She’s so tired. Still, even after all that rest, it’s like the exhaustion has permeated Nova straight down to her bones. She shudders and sighs as Din moves down her naked body, his lips planting kisses that she doesn’t know she needs until he’s already there. It’s easy and devastating and wonderful and crushing all at once. When Nova tries to return the favor, Din gently pushes her down, mumbling something about taking care of her.

It’s sweet. So sweet, even, that she’s on the verge of tears. Nova would do anything to stay here forever, to feel her husband’s lips on her bare skin, washing away all of the horror, the trauma, the darkness. She doesn’t open her eyes, even though she wants to. Din’s spent so much time without his helmet to appear like one of the people that call themselves Mandalorians, and she wants to give him back every single second of the time that prying eyes stole away.

Before long, Nova’s already close—her orgasm bubbling up quietly, without fanfare, without dramatics, just because Din knows exactly how to make her body sing—and when she taps at his arm to let him know, his mouth unlatches from the small hickies he’s leaving on the terrain of her bare stomach, and moves in between her thighs.

Effortlessly, he hold her legs up, hooking both of them around his shoulders so that his tongue can stay anchored in place. Nova moans, a quiet, radiant thing, and Din’s tongue finds exactly where she needs it to go. It pulses there, on the sweetest of spots, over and over again until she’s finished.

Breathless, she claws at his pants again, but Din shakes his head, his mouth dropping to her forehead as he pulls her into bed. “Rest, Nova,” he whispers, his voice faraway, a deep rumble. He pulls her in against his body, warm and soothing, and both of them are out before their heads hit their pillow.

*

Din’s asleep next to her, his slow, even breaths barely anything even in all the silence. Nova wants to fall back to sleep, but she knows she can’t. Her heartbeat is running itself rampant, and she’s a tangle of wants and needs, everything pulled in opposite directions. As quietly as she can, she slides herself out from the protective warmth of Din’s arms and the comforter, gently placing her feet on the floor. Even in the cool darkness of the night, her wardrobe, sleek but huge, has nothing but clothes in the same shades of Mandalorian blue, of beskar silver, but right now, Novalise doesn’t want to be a Mandalorian. She doesn’t want to be royalty, doesn’t want to be a figurehead. She doesn’t exactly want to be a Rebel either, because both titles mean the ultimate fate of the Outer Rim and beyond in her hands, so she settles for somewhere in between.

When she’s all dressed—black monochrome right down to her scuffed boots, in a weak imitation of the Luke Skywalker style—she braids the top half of her hair back, sleek and functional, and chooses a shawl buried at the back of her closet, underneath all of the Mandalorian haze of clothing. It’s a stormy grey that shimmers with the silver her husband wears when the fabric catches the light. If you pay close enough attention to the shawl, small, intentional stitches of rust and orange are woven into the fabric, hidden, furious, tiny flames.

Not exactly Mandalorian, but not entirely Rebel, either. And when Nova looks at herself in the mirror, studying the way her eyes flash with all that fire she was so certain was gone a few minutes ago, she sees herself right down to the quick, the high wire in between—she looks something like a Jedi.

So she pulls the Skywalker family lightsaber out of the hook on her door and pulls it to her belt loop, watching as the metal sways and dances in the low light. The weapon seems ancient, like something from another world. Something holy, even though she knows Luke Skywalker is a man and not a myth.

When she closes the bedroom door behind her, Din doesn’t even move. Usually, Nova’s the loud and clumsy one, worlds more obnoxious than Din’s practiced quiet, but she’s grown into her stealth over the last few weeks, especially living here, in a palace that has more rooms than the planet does people. It’s strange and eerie here at night, down the sprawling marble stairs, and she takes the first corridor she can find, just trying to walk off some of the pressure, to put her head back on her shoulders.

It’s lit only by candlelight, an archaic, flickering warmth, so in contrast to the rest of the steel and metal that Mandalore is made up of. It’s like she’s stepped into something that’s been around for years, even though she knows that it’s not possible. Mandalore was sieged, usurped, sieged again, razed and brought to the ground, destroyed. The planet’s atmosphere is mostly ash and haze, all that leftover war from years ago. But this part of the palace looks older, like a tomb that somehow survived.

It’s too creepy, Nova decides, even though the curious part of her is itching to explore it. She wants to pore through every aspect of it, try to find remnants of lost Mandalore, like her father used to unearth texts, like her mother used to excavate history. Before the war, before the Alliance was necessary, before all this death and darkness. When Nova comes out the other end of the corridor, she’s right next to the intimidating double doors of the war room, the holiest place Mandalore has. She pulls her shawl a little closer to her body, trying to retain the warmth she left back upstairs, trying to hold onto a memory more than anything tangible.

Nova isn’t intending to slip into the war room, let alone walk towards the sprawling dais that holds the beskar throne, but she does. It’s still quiet, so quiet, and the dark is coaxing her closer, pulling her up the steps, something beyond a simple want or need. She has the sneaking suspicion that she’s not supposed to be in here, not this late, not without Din, not when she has no legal or physical right to this place, but when she sits down on the throne, something deeper echoes out from within her chest.

It feels like a hymn and a battle cry. Before she has a second to adjust, to rationalize anything, everything becomes starry and disconnected. It’s been so long since she had a Force vision this immediate, this intense, and it hurls her through the proverbial hyperspace, everything dropping away.

It takes three steps forward in this strange, terrifying liminal space before Nova can even identify what’s scaring her. It’s the same kind of evil she felt way back on Takodana, before she was married to the ruler of a planet, before she even knew it was her destiny to be both Rebel and Jedi. There’s a mask she doesn’t recognize, twisted and devious. Behind its menacing, blank expression is something horrifying. Looking into the visor, it’s like her own soul is being fractured into pieces.

It’s humanoid until it’s not. The figure wearing the mask of destruction is tall, easily a foot taller than she is, horrible and menacing. But when the lightsaber they’re using ignites, it’s scarier than the vision of the person at all. It’s awful. It looks like it was forged out of lava, menacing red, the blade flickering and hissing in a way that’s somehow even more terrifying than the stark contrast of the Darksaber’s blade. Nova gasps, the light too bright, too sudden, and she can feel the residual thud on the floor, even in the vision. She knows when she comes out of it, she’ll be hurt, but the blade is getting closer. It looks like a giant rapier, a sword made only for evil things. At the hilt, spraying out in both directions, the blade extends. When the figure in the mask swings, it’s without remorse, so quick, so terrible.

But Nova’s not the target. She rolls away, out of the strike zone, and then she hears Luke Skywalker’s voice cutting through the darkness. She turns, and suddenly she’s not in the horror of the vision, anymore. She doesn’t know where she is. The ground looks icy, like Hoth, but there’s red powder spit everywhere, vomited across giant salt deposits. It’s so bright that her hand comes up in front of her eyes, and when she lowers it, Luke is gone. She’s gone, too. She turns around, hair whipping in the furious wind, trying to find where her name is being cried, and she trips over a mound on the salty ground, and when she falls to her knees, it’s a person, newly slain. The blood is so red, redder than the powder, redder than the evil lightsaber. It drowns through the lines on her hands, slips through her long fingers. She screams, trying to back up from the body, and then she realizes it’s Bo-Katan, gurgling through the slit in her throat, and when Nova tries desperately, in vain, to buffer the blood spilled, Luke Skywalker calls her name again.

But it’s not Luke. It is him—for a second, for the tiniest fraction of a moment—but then it’s not. His lightsaber floods with red, cancelling out the green light. The hallway flickers, once, twice, and then Darth Vader is charging towards her, and all Nova can hear is her blood pounding frantically in her ears and his heavy breathing through his mask, the sound that used to fill all of her nightmares. She’s slamming on the door at the other end of the hallway, and when it opens, the only person standing there isn’t a person at all, but a small alien baby all of two feet tall, green and adorable, and Nova drops her body around her son, protective and sobbing, curling every single inch of her around his tiny little frame, trying to shield him from Vader’s wrath, but when she cries, the vision changes again.

She can feel the motion sickness bubbling up in her stomach, horrible and nauseating. When Nova lands, she doesn’t open her eyes. She’s seen more than enough. Even right now, in the middle of her Force vision, all she wants to do is go back to sleep. She can feel the ache she slept away burrowing right back into her bones. Her scar is pulsing, enraged and angry. The headache she spent the last two and a half weeks fighting off is back, radiating straight down to behind her left eye. It’s all too much, and she can’t look. She doesn’t want to see anything else.

“Novalise,” she hears again, and the only reason she opens her eyes this time is because it’s her mother speaking. Her mother, who only ever called her Andromeda. Her mother, who spent half her life in the stars. Her mother, long dead. Her mother, who never got to know this version of her daughter, this Jedi-in-training, royal Rebel Girl that just desperately needs a hug from her mom.

“Mom,” she cries, and it’s so white. Everything here is antiseptic and deafening. It doesn’t even look like a planet, or even a room, or anything at all. She’s not even sure if there’s a floor, but Nova starts running like she’s never ran before in her life. Her breath is ragged and coming out in bursts. The jiggle in her chest and thighs burn under her speed, but she doesn’t care. She’s racing towards her mother, towards open arms, towards everything she’s been cheated out of for the last ten years.

It lasts for a second. Just a second. The figure is Piper Maluev, her skin dark and radiant, her hair down to her waist. Her lips are wide open and welcoming, her eyes crinkled at the seams. She’s tall and radiant and strong, and she’s everything Nova’s missed for nearly half her life.

And then it isn’t Piper. It’s not Luke, either, or Darth Vader, or whoever the dark, terrible, masked figure was. It’s not her usual nightmare transformation of Jacterr Calican. It’s not Bo-Katan, convulsing and dying. It’s Din. Just for a moment, a tiny fraction of relief, and then it’s not Din, either.

It’s a woman Nova’s never seen before, and her hand is clamped firmly around Nova’s windpipe. Like it’s nothing, she pulls her right off the disappearing floor and choking the life out of her. Her eyes are light but so terrifyingly menacing, her hair is a mess of a dark blonde. She’s pale and awful and her face is gleeful as she pulls the life out of Nova, a sucking, open wound.

She can’t talk. She doesn’t even want to plead for her life. If she’s this close to death anyway, and she just saw her mother, Nova figures there’s a pretty damn good chance that both of her parents are just over the other side. The woman is so happy to be killing Nova off, she doesn’t want to fight it. When her grip recedes, just for a half a second, Nova chokes out a confession that makes everything else grind to a halt.

It’s four words. Barely anything. Tears are streaming down her cheeks when her lips finally open. “I want my mom.”

Then she’s being dropped onto the floor, which very much exists now, and the light room filled with nothingness curls away, receding like it’s being burned. It’s dark in here, the tiled floor slippery and treacherous. In the background, there’s a makeshift trophy made from what looks like bones. Nova’s gasping for air, fighting back with a newfound vigor, kicking her legs helplessly to try and get some leverage on this woman who wants her dead, when, suddenly, she’s at eye level with her.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she seethes, a terrifying smile still spread across her horrible, beautiful face. “When I find you, you’re going to be begging for your life instead of your death.”

“Who—who are you?” Nova manages, through agony. Her shoulders hurt. Her headache feels like it’s trying to split her jaw in half. Her scar feels like it’s being reopened. Everything is torture, and she can’t even breathe.

“You’ll see,” the woman whispers, and her voice is so deadly that Nova internally corrects every time she’s ever called Bo-Katan venomous. Bo-Katan Kryze is a flower. One of the iridescent, gorgeous ones, that lined all the brush on Yavin, the ones Nova’s spent years pressing into the pages of every journal she’s ever owned. She’s kind and lovely and Nova’s very best friend, and when she gets out of this alive, Nova’s going to tell Bo-Katan that. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Andromeda.”

Nova heaves one giant breath into her lungs, trying to muster up anything that she can, even if it’s just more air. “I—” she starts, and the woman smiles again, loaded and dangerous. “I—I already did that, you miserable bitch,” Nova manages, and when she’s slammed into the awful floor, it’s worth it. There’s some kind of desperation behind the woman’s eyes, now and when her hand finds Nova’s throat again, she spits in her face.

And then she’s out of it. Hurtled out of it, actually, like a dying starfighter in the middle of space. She gasps and heaves on the floor, and as her sight comes back, her breathing does, too. Her head is still killing her. Her shoulders feel like they’re trying to carry the entire weight of Mandalore. Her scar is awful, white-hot and painful to the touch. Somewhere, distantly, her knees hurt like she’s fallen to them, and when she gains back her sense of sight and the feeling of her life being choked out of her body subsides, Nova realizes she has fallen to them. She’s fallen a lot, actually, down multiple steps leading to the floor from the raised platform where she was once sitting in the beskar throne. Nova shudders, inhaling through a terrible wheeze, curling her legs up close to her chest, trying to shake off the absolute shitshow that just hurtled her through the most traumatic Force vision she’s ever had.

“You,” comes a booming, rueful voice, and when Nova’s eyes flutter open, she’s expecting it to be the malicious, purple-haired woman from her vision. Her eyes take a second to adjust, her left one throbbing from the horrid ache pulsing behind it, and when she finally locates the source, it’s the miserable man from the gathering earlier.

“Can I help you?” Nova asks, her voice shooting up at the end, on the verge of tears.

“You aren’t supposed to be up there,” he spits, and Nova squints up at the throne she’d just fallen from.

“I know,” she whispers, dully. She presses a shaking hand to the ache behind her eye, trying to shut out this conversation like she wishes she’d ignored the vision. She tries to stand up, but her knees are too bruised to sustain pulling her to her feet, so she just slumps back against the step she’s on, trying to muster all the strength she has in her exhausted body to not break down. “I’m sorry,” Nova tacks on, the words barely there. “I—I wasn’t intending to sit here, or even come in the room, it just—”

“Happened,” he finishes, oddly calm. His voice sounds closer. Much closer. Nova opens her right eye, and he’s only at the bottom of the staircase. There’s something so wretched and dangerous about the energy he’s giving off, and she wants to run, but she’s in no position to even stand, let alone fight him off, so she just sits there, curling her knees into her chest, pulling her shawl as tight as she can against her upper body. “You’re an abomination.”

A laugh, the traitorous thing, bubbles up inside Nova’s throat. It’s not funny. It’s not. It’s pathetic, and likely racially motivated, but she can’t help herself. Her ribs ache, like they got banged up in her distant fall down these sharp, steep marble steps. “That, surprisingly, is not the first time I’ve been called an abomination in my life.”

“Do you know what the Jedi did to our people, little girl?” He’s angry. Nova can hear it in his voice. And normally, it would scare her, trigger her fight or flight reflex, keep her moving, but after her paranormal face-off with two of the scariest figures she’s ever seen, this one isn’t really that high up on our list. “I do. You were eradicated for good reason. You scorched our planet down to nothing, and now you and your cult leader husband come back here and try to take over? Not on my watch.”

Nova can feel him getting closer. He’s so much bigger than she is, up close, tall and buff, menacing and taut. She weakly pulls her hand away from her eye, trying to at the very least give him her full attention, but she’s so fucking tired. It’s in her bones, at this point. She doesn’t want to be royalty. She doesn’t want to be a Rebel. And, in contrast to what the man in front of her is screaming, she doesn’t want to be a Jedi.

She wants to be the Novalise she was on Naator, with nothing but domesticity and yellow leaves and pink skies. She wants to be the protector she was out there in hyperspace. And, for the first time in ten years, she wants to be Andromeda Maluev, fifteen and gleeful, running around Yavin knowing the stars were her destiny and that evil could always be defeated.

“I don’t even want to be here,” Nova whispers, finally, and it’s like something inside her breaks.

“Good,” the man spits, “then we’re in agreement.” And then his hands are yanking away the hood of her shawl and tangling in her braided hair. Nova’s scream gets cut off as she’s thrown down the rest of the stairs, like her body’s giving up. She chokes out something horrible, fighting to get to her bruised, banged up knees, sore from the fall, aching from the blissful time riding Din’s face less than an hour ago, but she can’t summon the strength. Somewhere, she knows Luke Skywalker is yelling at her to use the Force, but Nova’s had enough force today to last a lifetime. When she’s kicked in the stomach, brutal and awful, she just curls in on herself, hoping her death isn’t a slow one. He startles towards her again, ripping her shawl off of her body, clawing at the meat of her upper arm, and something snaps inside of her. If she’s going to die, really die, it’s not because she succumbed to the injuries this rabid Mandalorian is giving her to try and put the blame on her shoulders. She survived Moff Gideon. She survived Din and Grogu leaving her. She survived her parents dying. And she survived the abuse of Jacterr Calican’s awful hands. Novalise can survive this.

When her lightsaber roars to life in her hands, it’s not only Nova swinging. She can feel the weight of what it being the Skywalker family lightsaber, of Luke and Leia before her, of his father before him, of all the generations yet to come to wield this weapon, this holy sword, this impossible thing. It takes all of her energy, a brilliant beam of blue light, and then she falls to the floor, knowing that even if this is where it ends, that she fought back.

Everything next comes in flashes. It’s in these tiny fractals like what happened when the Crest had died right over Dagobah and crashed to the surface. She sees a blade ignite, and in between the rhythm of her fading in and out of consciousness, Nova thinks she’s just watching herself fight the man back. Suddenly, he drops to the floor, his body nothing but dead weight, and she wants to scream, but she’s back out. It’s horrible and deafening. She’s being scooped up, she can feel that. She’s crying. She’s definitely crying. There are voices, loud ones. When she has enough strength to open her eyes again, Din is slamming his gloved fist against the airlock on Kicker, his voice frantic. She can’t make out what he’s saying, though, and another face appears above her. Din gently transfers Nova’s limp body into someone else’s arms, and when Nova looks up, it’s Bo-Katan, her face so panicked it’s almost impossible to recognize who it is.

“Nova, you gotta stay awake,” Bo-Katan whispers, her palm slapping softly at Nova’s cheek. “C’mon, I mean it. If you die here on this planet you hate, I will haunt you in the afterlife. I swear, you have to stay awake.”

“I don’t—” Nova starts, and Bo-Katan shakes her head.

“You literally should not be talking,” Bo-Katan says, her eyesight dipping to Nova’s neck. Her eyes widen for a second and then her smooth fingers ghost over the outline. Nova coughs at her light touch, and she realizes that the marks from the vision she had of being choked within an inch of her life are here, that they followed her back out of the vision and into this moment. “Nova, no, shut up, I’m serious—”

“I don’t—don’t hate Mandalore,” she manages, her voice sounding like shards of glass, and Bo-Katan offers her a hasty, worried smile.

“You do,” Bo-Katan argues, but her voice is so gentle. “But don’t worry, princess, we’re getting you the hell off of it. No complaints now that you’re off Mandalore, you got it? The second you got here, I knew both of you wanted to leave.”

Din’s at her side again, and Bo-Katan kneels down, gently placing Nova in her familiar tangle of blankets and pillows. Nova’s eyes close again, and when they slide back open, Bo-Katan is standing, trading worried glances and hushed tones with Din.

Nova’s head hurts. So bad. It’s splitting down the middle of her skull, actually, but all she can do is press a hand over her eye and try to block out the familiar low light of the ship that smells more like home than this entire planet ever had.

“Listen, about what I told you back on Hoth—”

“It’s fine,” Din cuts her off, and his next few words are warbled. “I get it. Your allegiance is to Mandalore, not to us.”

Nova can’t hear Bo-Katan’s answer. In fact, she’s not even sure if there’s even words being spoken, because the next time she looks up, Bo-Katan is just staring down at her, incredibly concerned, such an obvious change from her usually stoic expression. Nova’s whole body feels like it’s on fire. She’s exhausted. Bo-Katan kneels down again, just for a split second, to pull the loose end of Nova’s shawl over the rest of her folded body. Nova wants to cry.

“Flower,” she garbles, nonsensically. She’s trying to tell Bo-Katan that she’s sorry for all the animosity, that she trusts her, and more than that, she likes her. It doesn't make a single lick of sense to anyone outside of Nova’s head, but Bo-Katan offers a tiny smile anyway.

“Here,” Din says, stiffly, holding out the sheathed blade of the Darksaber to Bo-Katan. Nova’s eyes flutter closed, just for a beat, and when they open back up, Bo-Katan is pushing the weapon back into Din’s grip.

“It’s not mine,” she insists. “Besides, you’re not getting out of it that easy. You’ll be back.”

“Bo-Katan—”

“Take care of her,” Bo-Katan interrupts. Nova blacks out again until they’re up in hyperspace. Din’s body is shielding her from the cold, his limbs draped all over the places that hurt the least. When she opens her eyes, they’re floating through the cosmos, and all her eyes can see is sweet, sweet stardust.

*

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*

[catxsnow]

AFTER HOURS chapter four

Summary: Enemies to the public, friends to their close ones, friends with benefits between them. Rival companies and an attraction that can’t be ignored.

Tim Drake x reader

Warnings: swearing, mature content, smut, 18+ only, mention death of parents, car crash mentions.

A/N: 

Word Count: 3.3k

Tim sat in his desk at Wayne Enterprises. His head was tilted back and his eyes sealed shut. It wasn't just the fact that he was tired and sore from his previous night out on patrol, but the fact that he was worried. Worried for her, her company, her well-being. He was worried that she was being too rash to get the recognition  she deserved.

It had been a week since their last encounter and since she had made all those sudden involvements. There were several press conferences that were held for her and each of them led to the same thing: she was going to be seen as the best business woman in Gotham - the best CEO in Gotham.

For the first time in a long time, Gotham believed her. They looked past the headline that was made of her a week ago and saw that she was the person that Gotham needed. They asked her serious questions like what her company's future was going to be like, where she was getting this funding - not who that man was that she went home with.

Her plan, though risky, had worked. She was getting treated like the CEO that she was, not the little girl that she was four years ago. Though Tim was worried, he was also proud of everything she accomplished. However, with her sudden changes, that put his own company in a tough spot. He was suffering, and it was because of her.

So what was he to do? Push back? Take away everything that she worked so hard to accomplish? That would have been an act of war, one that he wasn't willing to risk. For now, he pushed forward with his own plans, not rushing and not delaying them. There was nothing else that he could do.

Not to mention that his Gala that he was hosting was only two days from now. Everything had been set - except for the fact that (Y/N) still hadn't given him her confirmation of coming. She was right, it had been four years of knowing each other and not once had she shown up. Why would she now?

Why was he disappointed this time that she wasn't planning to make an appearance? Tim found himself going to her more often. He wanted to spend time with her outside of just fucking. It seemed that he had been pushing his luck with her anyways. Deep talks when their sex was over, longer times together. They never used to do that.

So why now? Why after all this time was he pushing to be with her more. Why was she letting him? Time after time she always told him that no one could know. What they had was purely in secret, and most importantly what they had was just sex. Nothing besides sex, they weren't supposed to be even friends.

Why did Tim consider her one of his best friends? She was the person that he wanted to go to when times were hard. Sure he had Conner and Bart, but sometimes they just didn't understand his issues the same way that she did. She always seemed to know what was right.

Tim wiped his hands down his face and let out a tired groan. He wanted this week to be over already. Aside from this stupid gala he had to do, he had plans with his friends. It had been a long time since he had seen the Titans and he missed them.

Not as much as he missed her.

"Mr. Wayne?" His secretary buzzed into his office. Tim snapped himself out of his daze and asked what she had wanted. "You have a call on line one. She didn't say her name." Tim narrowed his eyes - was this someone who knew his secret identity? Someone prepared to threaten Wayne Industries?

Tim grabbed the phone, he never got the chance to speak before the woman spoke. "I can hearing you sighing all way the way in my own building, Tim."

"Ms. (L/N)," Tim smiled at the sound of her voice. He spun around in his chair to look out the window to her own building. If he had a pair of binoculars, he could have seen her standing at her window staring back at her. "What do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you today?" More so, how did she knew that he was just thinking of her?

"I thought I'd give you a bit of a heads up that you've got reporters coming your way wanting to know your opinion about my recent... purchases," she told him. Tim had managed to avoid them for as long as he could, it was no surprise that they would find someway to corner him.

"I appreciate it," Tim thanked her. "Before you go. I just wanted to let you know that you still have an invite to my gala on Friday."

"I gave you my answer and I'm staying by it," She told him after a moment of hesitance. Now more than ever she couldn't go to his gala. She swore that she could hear Tim's disappointment at her answer.

"I can't convince you to?" Tim tried once more. She was unsure if he meant sex or business - either sounded tempting to her. However, having to dress up in heels and act fake around people that supported Tim - and her - sounded terrible. She didn't know how he could host so many.

"Goodbye Tim."

Fuck.

><

Friday mornings always seemed easier than any other day of the week. Maybe it was because after that long day of work, it was nothing but relaxation for the next two. It didn't matter, she looked forward to Fridays every week. Except this week.

Tonight was Tim's gala. It was all over the news in Gotham, as well as the front page of every newspaper. Tim's cheery smile filled every media, as well as the kind words he had to say for the reason of hosting. He was raising money to build the new orphanage down town Gotham for the kids on the streets.

Who could say no to that?

To make matters worse, her name also filled the paper. One of the reporters had asked if she was to be attending the gala. Tim answered as kindly as he could - stating that she had already made a massive donation and that she was too busy with her own projects to be able to attend. Of course, they had made her name look bad in order to make his better.

She sighed and turned off the TV as the news reporter called her out for being to preoccupied in her own tower to think of the poor children on the streets. That wasn't the case, that was far from the case. In fact, she was completely free that night and was able to attend. It was the matter of her not wanting to go.

"Mr. William," she smiled as her head advisor walked into the office. He had been close to her parents when they were running the company. Through the years, he became the closet thing to a father figure in her life. "What can I help you with today?"

"It's a matter of what can you help yourself with today, Ms. (L/N)," He sat in the chair. Mr. William couldn't have been much older than fifty. He had a kind smile and the belly of a beer drinker, though she had known for a fact that he hadn't had a sip in twenty odd years. His hair was speckled grey and glasses were always slipping down his nose.

"I think you should attend Mr. Wayne's gala," he admitted. She rolled her eyes at his proposition. "The two of you are friends, good friends. Why not let the people know that you are? Why keep up this charade that you hate each other? Gotham would be far better off if we united with Wayne Enterprises."

She couldn't exactly tell him that she didn't want to whole city to find out that they were fucking on the side. She still didn't even want them to know that they were friends. For years her company and WE had been at war with each other, she didn't want the people to think she was weak for suddenly siding with him and giving up.

"The news is already giving you a bad rep for not attending. It's been four years since you've started here, and not once have you attended. I know you've made you donation but I really think it would help give better morale for you to go. Just think about it, yeah?"

"Thanks, Mr. Williams." He was right. The press was giving her a hard time for never going. They did this every time that he had a gala and she stated that she wasn't going to attend. Why did it bother her now? Why did she know deep down that Mr. William was right about everything? Maybe because he was. Or maybe she was just tired of the charades.

Fuck.

><

(Y/N) was nervous quite often. It was a bad trait of hers that she was never able to shake. Throughout the years, she had grown to hide it through false confidence. Press conferences were the worst. She would stand in front of dozens of reporters, all of them ready to pick apart everything she said.

It was impossible not to feel nervous in her line of work. Billions of dollars were on the line every day and one false step and she could lose it all. She had done good work so far, and she had made the people of Gotham believe that she wasn't some shy girl, she exuded confidence - even if it was fake.

However, walking into the the Wayne Gala with an expensive dress and heels that were far higher than she was used to, she wasn't able to keep up the façade. She wore a golden dress that was tight in the chest and loose around her legs. A dangerously high slit showed off her legs. Perfectly executed makeup was done that made her eyes gleam.

It wasn't her own eyes that she was worried about, it was the eyes of everyone in that room. Their gaze was glued to her, and it made her incredibly nervous. She wasn't sure if it was because of how she was dressed or because for the first time in four years she had attended Tim's event.

(Y/N) walked through the path being cleared for her and grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray a server held. Tim Wayne stood at the end of her walkway, though he was yet to notice her. He was talking with several other CEO's, laughing as if they were all good friends. She knew they weren't, she knew that he didn't care for them in the slightest.

Tim finally averted his gaze to the gold glimmer headed his way. He had to do a double take to realize that it was in fact (Y/N). Shock was evident in his eyes. To everyone, it would have been because of her arrival, in reality it was the fact that he couldn't believe how incredibly stunning she looked.

Never in his life has he laid eyes on someone so beautiful.

Tim excused himself from the men he was talking to and met you half way to your journey towards him. If there wasn't a room full of people watching, he would have kissed you right there. He wanted to, even if it meant breaking everything that you had hidden for so long.

"Mr. Wayne," she stuck her hand out for him to shake. Tim looked handsome himself. His hair was slicked back, just like Bruce used to wear. He wore a black suit with the exception of a red and golden tie. Someone not from Gotham easily could have mistaken the two of them as a matching couple.

"Ms. (L/N)," Tim shook her hand. He felt like he was stuttering over his words. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I was convinced," she answered. Tim wasn't sure if it was because of himself or someone else. Either way, he was glad that she came - and that he was able to see her in such a beautiful gown. "This is quite the event that you have. Beautiful."

"So are you," he blurted out. She glared at him, worried that someone had heard his comment. Tim felt his face flare up with embarrassment and anxiety. She looked beautiful, and he felt like a fool for not being able to pull himself together. "Uh, thank you. For coming, and for the donation. It means a lot to me for you to be here."

"I'm not here for long, Mr. Dr - Wayne," she took a sip of her champagne. In fact she didn't want to be there at all. As soon as she walked through the doors and all eyes were on her she wanted to leave immediately. If she was going to make it through that night at all, she was going to need more than one glass of the champagne.

"Well, while you are, may I have this dance?" Tim stuck his hand out for her to grabs so he could lead her to the ballroom floor. She hesitated. Pictures. News. Media. Gossip. She hated the thought of it all. This past week had been focused on getting her attention away from silly rumors like this. All that work was going to be washed away if she accepted his offer.

It felt like everyone was staring daggers at her. She could feel the eyes of everyone in that room. Tim never asked people to dance, and he was asking her the second that she walked through that door. It was going to make the headline, and she was sure that it wasn't going to be the one she wanted.

To her surprise, she accepted. Her hand rested in his palm and she set her half empty glass down on a nearby table. Just as she expected, everyone watched as he led you to the dance floor. Flash of cameras, murmurs of people talking to one another. After four years of not showing up - within the first ten minutes she was already dancing with her worst enemy.

Tim's hand was hot against her waist. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, remembering just how those hands touched her only a few nights ago. Now was not the time to be thinking about it, but she couldn't help the burning feeling of desire rake through her. Why did he have to affect her like this?

"Ignore them," Tim whispered. He assumed she was suddenly anxious of the others, not that she was suddenly wanting to rip his clothes off. She met his eyes, baby blues that always seemed to find some sort of hidden emotion that she tried to keep down. "Why'd you come?"

"Would you believe me if I said I came here to sabotage you?" She raised an eyebrow. Tim suddenly spun her around. Her back was against his chest and her arms crossed over her body. She would have been fine if it wasn't for his tight grip on her wrists. The same grip that held her in place as he fucked her.

"Not for a second," he smiled. Tim twirled her back around to their original pose. She wasn't sure if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. "I know you better than you'd like to admit."

It was true. She hated how well he knew her. When it came to what she was truly feeling, the way that she thought things through, he even knew more about her family than anyone else. He was in every theoretical way, her best friend. It didn't stop her from hating him just enough to keep it to themselves.

"Mr. William thought I should come," she told him truthfully. "I had no intentions of showing up." Tim twirled her again, this time resting his hand on the small of her back so she wouldn't fall. His touches were innocent, but she couldn't stop thinking about when they weren't.

"Can I give you a reason to stay?" Tim questioned. His eyes darted down her body. When looking back to you, his iris' darkened with lust. It seemed to be more than that. The hint of innocence that speckled his face led her to believe that this time, he wanted more than a hook up, he wanted a connection. It made her falter.

Before she could answer, Tim dipped her. The slit in her dress showed off her entire leg as it brushed against his. His grip on her was tight, not daring to let her fall in anyway. Tim was close, too close. She could feel the warmth of his breath fan against her cheek. She was frozen, too in awe of his beauty to move.

The flash of a camera snapped him out of it. Tim pulled her back up to his level and cleared his throat. That was far too intimate with that many people around. She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. He pulled her close once more, continuing their dance.

"There's a couple ideas that come to mind, Mr. Wayne," she chided. In that moment, there was nothing more that (Y/N) wanted than to feel the heat of his hands over her naked body. Maybe it was her own thoughts that were making her uncomfortable in a crowded room rather than the people themselves.

"I hate being called Mr. Wayne," Tim muttered. She knew that - he expressed it to her quite often. Even Mr. Drake just filled him with dread. It only reminded him of his father. "I hate these gala's. They were never my thing, when I was a kid. Hosting them is even worse. I always hoped you'd come to make it more bearable."

"You know why I didn't," she sighed. Throughout their years, there were times that she didn't come simply because she wanted to keep the act up. Others, there were times that there was no need for an act. Tim genuinely infuriated her sometimes. He made choices that effected her company and sometimes herself personal.

As good friends as they were, there was always some hatred in her heart. These past few months seemed to have been different. Longer times spent together, untold secrets. They were closer than every, and yet it still felt like they were miles apart.

Tim suddenly pulled her completely flush against him. His hand rested dangerously close to the curve of her ass. A nearby couple had nearly bumped into them, and would have had he not pulled her in. Unfortunately, it just made her lust of him even more. A few strands of his gelled hair fell down, making him look like the young man that he truly was.

"People are staring," She whispered as he didn't let her leave his hold. The sexual tension between them had to have been evident to everyone in that room. (Y/N) wasn't nearly a good enough actor to make it seem like she wasn't trying to jump him - she just hoped that he was.

"Let them," Tim told her confidently.

"Tim," she sternly spoke. He heaved out a breath of air and let her make a space between them once more. Instantly, he missed her body against his. "Think you can steal a few of those champagne bottles and bring them home?"

"I don't think it'd qualify as stealing if I'm the one who bought them," Tim raised his eyebrows at her sudden request. He watched her eye up one of the trays full of glasses as a waiter walked by. "Why?"

"Grab us a bottle each and I'm all yours for the night. Completely yours, whatever you wish to do."

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[joonsdiary]

the proposal

↳ part one of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing. ceo!seokjin x hotelier!reader (female) genre. arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst (mayhaps future smut?) word count. 4,8k summary. after losing ownership of your hotel to the satan-spawned ceo-to-be, kim seokjin, you are forced by the powers that be (your parents) into marrying him. you agree under the assurance that you won’t be out of job, but with the title of manager instead of owner. as it turns out, he has other plans and approaches you with a proposal that’s hard to refuse.

note. a cliché, overused trope? check. a series with (maybe) no plot and is just about jin as a billionaire ceo? check. this was initially supposed to be a sequel, but i couldn’t follow it up with the same ambience and mood, so i decided to leave the drabble [as a standalone] and write a spin-off instead. this has been in my drafts for the longest time, so i’m excited to share to you a series that literally nobody asked for.

warning-but-not-really. not all corporate ceos are as chilled out as jin will be portrayed here. may give you high expectations of literally some of the worst people on this planet lmao also purely self-indulgent! read at your own risk tbh

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

The premise was simple.

Get married so you can keep running your hotel business or refuse and lose everything to the man your parents have personally hand-picked to become the owner.

Scratch that.

The man your parents sold your hotel to, thus making him the newly appointed owner.

Choosing the latter and having your freedom would mean giving up your hard-earned company to the lousy billionaire’s first-born son, who happened to own half the hotels in metropolitan Seoul.

The Kims.

Notorious for their enormous amount of wealth, their class, and having three strapping young men for sons who knew nothing else, but privilege handed to them in a silver platter.

Despite growing up in a well-off family, you’ve always taught yourself that independence and hard work was the key to success. You distanced yourself as much as you could from your parents’ money, stuck it out for four years in college, and graduated with a degree. Running the hotel full time while attempting to finish your master’s in business administration part-time had been the theme for the past year. Until your parents dropped the bomb on you.

Words like, do you really think you had full ownership of that run-down hotel of yours and we had to sell, or we’ll go under had been thrown around. As if keeping the secret of having a huge amount of debt would make you feel better about seeing your hotel assimilated into Kim Hotels. Not only would you lose ownership, but you knew that you were bound to get fired, if not demoted. It usually came with the change of proprietor.

Conveniently enough, the Kims had other plans. Their current CEO, Seokjin’s father, agreed to let you keep working as the hotel manager instead of the owner, which is honestly miles better to you than being jobless. But it came with a hefty price: you were to marry their oldest son, Kim Seokjin. They drove a hard bargain, and you found yourself agreeing. You loved the hotel more than anything you’ve ever owned; having to pour your heart and soul into making it worth being proud of. And you were. That’s why hearing your parents say that it was in debt felt gut wrenching.

Initially, you tried to get a hold of him, hoping you could convince him to re-think the situation. You thought perhaps the media had been wrong about him, and all the talks of him being a calculating corporate shark was a lie. Maybe he would let you work as the manager without having to marry him. But the COO of Kim Hotels refused to meet with you, despite hearing from your parents that he’d been “more than willing” to be married to you.

You scoffed at their baseless statement. Seokjin had a reputation for taking women to bed one night before leaving them to dust by the next morning. As if selling his soul to the devil in order to be worth billions of dollars wasn’t enough; of course, he was sleeping around as well. You weren’t one to judge anybody’s lifestyle choices, but you were sure that someone in that calibre wouldn’t agree to be wed to a person they hardly knew just because. There was something in your gut that told you there was more to the agreement than a simple arranged marriage.

Or maybe the feeling in your gut was due to the bad pasta you had.

“Good evening, Ms. Hwang.”

You’re greeted by Mr. Park, the doorman as soon as you enter the lobby, cradling a piping hot tea you hoped would alleviate the stomach cramps you were having. His smile gave away his old age, wrinkles dotting the corner of his eyes and the lines in his cheeks. You returned the gesture.

“How was your dinner?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you laughed softly, shrugging away your coat without spilling your drink. “I’m never eating out ever again. Please tell me Yoongi is in.”

He nodded, gesturing to the entrance not too far from the lobby. You bid him good night and head to the restaurant in the hotel, which was sparse with customers. Friday nights were usually teeming with life and excitement, but unfortunately business had been relatively slow all week. The worry pooled deep in your stomach – as if you needed any more ratification that your hotel needed to be bought, or you’ll close down.

“Yoongi! I need your cure-all soup,” you called out as soon as you sat on the barstool, propping your tote on the table. Jungkook waved at you from the far end of the bar, concocting a drink for the eager gentleman waiting in front of him. Yoongi popped his head out from the kitchen’s double doors to scowl at you but was met with your beaming smile.

He returned several minutes later with your request and you quietly thank him.

“Bad date?” he asked, wiping his palms over his well-worn apron. Jungkook had inched closer by this time, mindlessly wiping the area beside you.

You nodded. “And terrible food. I should’ve just asked him to take me here to Grigio instead.”

Yoongi raised his brows, but a grin was threatening to burst from his lips. “Why didn’t you?”

“He insisted on going to that posh new restaurant that just opened last week. Said it took months to book and he couldn’t just cancel on a whim,” you rolled your eyes, carefully blowing cold air into your steaming soup.

“This is why I told you to stop looking around,” Yoongi leaned into the counter, studying your expression.

“It’s cuffing season,” you joked. “Blame social norms for my behaviour.”

He gave you an impassive stare, before sighing. “You’re literally cuffed already.” He said, followed by a quiet, “I still can’t believe you’re getting married soon.”

You waved your right hand nonchalantly before lifting the spoon to your lips. You moaned as soon as the flavour filled your senses.

“Did you know you’re the best chef ever?”

“It’s just chicken noodle soup,” he said drily.

“Exactly! The simplest meal yet you manage to bring out so many spices at once.” He rolled his eyes at your attempt to boost his ego. Either way it was true; for you, nothing beat Yoongi’s cooking, no matter how simple he thought the meal was.

You forgo the tea and asked Jungkook for a bottle of white wine. “Nothing fancy — Les Capriades is fine. I heard they came in last month, and I have yet to try them.”

He nodded at your instructions before disappearing off to the back to find your drink.

“Stop avoiding the topic, Y/N,” Yoongi rested his chin in the palm of his hand.

“I’m not avoiding anything,” you stated confidently, yet you couldn’t meet his gaze. “The devil incarnate himself refuses to see me. I guess I’ll have to meet him at the altar.”

“Three weeks from now,” Yoongi said, almost exasperated.

“Until then, I’ll enjoy my freedom.”

“What freedom?” Yoongi scoffed, rounding the table to slide into the seat next to you. Jungkook returned with your promised bottle and your eyes beamed with excitement before quietly thanking him. “You didn’t even date around before any of this marriage circus happened.”

You agreed with the “circus” part and ignored the indirect jab. Besides not having a say in any of the planning for your wedding, your supposed fiancé refused to introduce himself when you tried to reach out multiple times.

Okay, perhaps it wasn’t multiple times. You called his office when your parents broke the news to you a week ago, but his assistant said he was busy with a meeting and that you should call back. You didn’t, and that was the end of it. You’ve been putting off trying again, but it’s been a week and he hasn’t contacted you back either.

Maybe it was mutual disdain; if one of you was testing the other to break, you didn’t want the first to be you. It already felt undignified to be marrying someone for the sake of keeping a semblance of ownership to your hotel, so you weren’t about to grovel and demand to be spoken to when it seemed like he wasn’t willing to spare you a second of his time.

Yoongi chatted for a bit before he had to go back to work, so you were left to pull out your laptop from your tote. For the next few hours you immersed yourself into finances, staring at the excel spreadsheet displayed on the screen far longer than was medically allowed. Surely, you’ll go blind before you see your hotel overcome the negative deficit you were in.

“See you tomorrow, Ms. Hwang,” Jungkook thrummed his fingers on the table as he passed by. You looked up in time to see him mime something unintelligible. Your brows raised in confusion.

“Your glasses,” he laughed quietly, fingers hovering close to your cheek. You mumbled a quiet oh, before pushing the rim higher until it settled snugly against your nose bridge.

“Thanks.” You sighed, tipping your head to one side. After feeling the satisfying pop! you turned back to Jungkook with a grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You slumped back to your work as soon as Jungkook was out of sight. Glancing at the clock on the corner of your laptop, it blinked 00:37, which automatically caused you to yawn. Yoongi should be out soon, so you willed yourself to stand up and prop the close sign by the entrance.

From where you stood, you could see the lobby clearly, as well as the spinning doors of the hotel entrance. A few patrons trickled in, no doubt coming in from their busy day, and filed sluggishly to the elevators where it would take them up their floors.

That was the most fulfilling part of being a hotelier to you. The satisfaction of giving people a comfortable stay, whether they were mere tourists or locals wanting a getaway from their normal life. It certainly isn’t as posh and sleek as the Kim Hotel with their towering glass buildings and boring black, white, and grey colour palettes. But what you had was something you were proud to consider your home, with the vibrant earth tones of the walls and furniture, as well as the rich velvet tapestry draped along the ornate windows. High ceiling chandeliers peppered the lobby, casting an ambience of warmth and security without lacking luxury.

“‘Night, Y/N.” Yoongi clasped your shoulder, startling you out of your mini daydream. “Stop using my restaurant as your office, will you?”

You mustered a small grin. “Bye, Yoongles. Drive safe.”

Yoongi turned to you as his face contorted violently. “I hate that nickname.”

“Love you too!” You called out as he exited through the revolving door before placing your hand down with a sigh. Back to work. You were about to turn and go back to your forgotten laptop when the door welcomed in another guest.

With bated breath you watched the man stalk towards you, eyeing you dangerously as if you were his prey. His midnight black suit made him look slim but highlighted his broad shoulders all the same. You were arrested at the spot, unable to look away and felt as if you’ve been robbed of oxygen. The more he stepped closer, the more unclear your thoughts became.

It’s not as if you hadn’t seen the man. He often appeared on several business magazines — gossip tabloids more so. Yet there was something different about seeing him in person, in front of you, in your hotel.

No. His hotel.

“Ms. Hwang. I was hoping to find you here.”

You blinked up at him, not trusting your voice to form words under such immense pressure. His usually slicked back ebony hair is more mussed; a day’s worth of stress was evident in his restless feature.

When you didn’t reply, he took it upon himself to study you from head to toe, and your body went rigid. Your long, honey-coloured hair had been tied up in a lazy bun and glasses framed your face. You didn’t bother changing out of your mini black dress from your date earlier, whose thin straps clung onto your shoulders for dear life.

You squirmed uncomfortably, finding a small ounce of strength to wrap your hands protectively around yourself. “What are you doing here, Mr. Kim?”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes, supple lips bending upwards for a grin. “Call me Seokjin. Mr. Kim is my father.”

And with that, he welcomed himself in the threshold of your restaurant.

Technically, it’s his restaurant now, too.

You let your anger simmer for a bit before turning to follow him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you declared. It was hard to keep your annoyance down when he had showed up unannounced after ignoring your existence for a whole week.

He slid next to the seat you had claimed yours, and you almost tripped in your heels as you followed, immediately snapping your laptop shut. There was no new information he could have garnered from looking at the finances of the hotel, as he’s probably aware of them. But the thought of him snooping around made you feel queasy.

“I wanted to see what had my father so enamoured that he’d actually buy this…” he trailed off, waving his hand dismissively, “…hotel?”

You hated the underlying judgement in his tone of voice. You had also heard rumours that he’s unabashedly forward and hard to deal with, on top of all the other rumours that plagued him. So far, all the boxes in the checklist were proving to be true.

“It’s quaint. Not at all what I expected.” His gaze studied you momentarily, and you can tell he wanted to say more but he smartly held himself back. Good. You don’t know what you would do if he strung one criticism after another.

“Well, you’ve seen it. You can kindly screw off now.”

Seokjin seemed taken aback for a second, but his surprise didn’t linger. He leaned back on the stool and swiveled forward before pointing at the shelves lined with alcohol.

“I’ll have a whiskey, neat.”

In an attempt to ignore his ridiculous demand, you powered up your laptop once more. No way in hell would you let him step all over you, not even when he owned the hotel where you now stood. “You have very capable legs and arms. I’m sure you can whip one up yourself.”

Was this man joking? Granted, you know your way behind the bar since you had the privilege to work as a bartender for a few years during your college tenure. But that doesn’t mean he’s welcomed here to treat you as if you were a subservient of his. Which, semantics aside, you were, though that’s beside the point. But if he made an effort to come down here and order you around like a scullery maid in an attempt to intimidate you or put you in your place, then he was barking up the wrong tree.

“I was told you have terrific hospitality. I guess they were mistaken.”

Not for the likes of you, I don’t. You rolled your eyes, not bothering with an actual reply.

Seokjin maneuvered off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his cufflinks before he rolled his sleeves up meticulously. He then rounded the bar and began grabbing materials with familiarity, not stopping to ask where anything was located. You watched in awe from the corner of your eyes, attempting to be discreet.

“Want one?” he gave you a slanted gaze.

You wrinkled your nose in disagreement and raised your wine glass.

“A refill, then?”

Pressing your lips firmly together, you gave him a defiant headshake.

The mild shock of seeing him traipsing behind the bar had rendered you absolutely mute. The fact that he knew where everything was piqued your interest. Was it an outcome of years of experience as a habitual drinker? Or did he often just randomly raid bars, hence his extensive knowledge of their layout? You didn’t want to know, but at the same time you did.

It took him a while to find a coaster before settling back to the spot beside you. Typing away at your laptop, you refused to give him even an ounce of attention despite his attention solely being yours. The silence that ensued was more uncomfortable than anything you’ve experienced.

Suddenly, you were all too aware of your crooked posture and your body snapped, straightening your shoulders rigidly. It felt stupid, but necessary for the sake of your sanity to keep your façade. Although it crumbled ever so slightly when Seokjin laughed beside you.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel tense,” his voice was languid and inviting.

You steeled yourself, refusing to be lulled into a trance by his intoxicating presence. “What did you really come here for, Kim Seokjin?”

“She speaks!” he exclaimed, clearly amused. You turned to give him an impassive stare. “Do I need a reason to visit my fiancée?”

His statement caught you by surprise, your poor heart bearing the brunt of suddenly having to pump more oxygen than usual. It brought warmth to your cheeks and you allowed yourself to fall into the fantasy of marrying the most eligible bachelor in all of Seoul. The fantasy, however, was short-lived as his wink broke the spell you were under.

“Don’t worry, this will be strictly business,” his back straightened up on cue. You tried and subsequently failed not to watch the way his deft fingers moved to loosen up his necktie. He then slightly deflated with a sigh, before grabbing his drink and taking a sip.

For courage, perhaps? It brought a small amount of accomplishment to know that you might have The Kim Seokjin nervous before you.

“It’s about the wedding, which you know is coming up soon.”

This was it. The topic you’ve been narrowly avoiding for the past week suddenly poured on you all at once like a bucket of ice-cold water. It wasn’t the most refreshing way of waking you up to reality, but it got the job done.

“I hope you aren’t getting cold feet now, Kim,” he grins at your attempt at humour.

“I apologize for not getting back to you sooner, by the way. My secretary said you tried to get a hold of me.” You remembered the woman’s monotone voice on the other end of the phone call. Part of the reason why you were reluctant to call back was due to nervousness from hearing her apathetic voice.

You shrugged in response, finding him less of an asshole than you had previously. Was your expectation of decency so low that you found anything remotely human he did to be an act of chivalry on his part?

Yes. Yes, it was.

“I tried calling because I wanted to know if I would be able to talk you out of this deal.”

Seokjin was visibly surprised by your candor.

“Oh yeah, and how would that have played out?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Surely, it was too late to take anything back, so you tossed all caution out of the window. He might as well hear your piece.

“The ceremony preferably cancelled. The Hwang Hotel back to its rightful owner, as if the whole thing hadn’t occurred in the first place.”

Seokjin regarded you with amusement in his eyes. The warm lights of the Grigio soften his rugged features, making it seem like he was glowing. You came to understand how he had the whole country enamoured by him. He was distressingly handsome.

You gagged at where your thoughts ended up and leaned back a little, terrified of feeling too intimate with the man who had claimed your hard-earned success for himself. The hotel means more to you in ways you know Seokjin will never be able to relate. A man who, with a little twirl of his fingers, would be making more money than you could ever hope to imagine. They say no hard work goes unpaid, but for him it was probably akin to: No hard work, but I get paid either way. How comfortable must it be to sit atop that domineering tower of his, overlooking the city he practically owns?

“And what do I get out of that possible scenario?” he began after a brief pause.

You refused to wilt under his imposing gaze. With a confident voice, you said, “The satisfaction of doing a noble deed.”

He barked out a laugh, tilting his head back in obvious enjoyment. You didn’t share the sentiment as you sighed before removing your prescription glasses. Perhaps hoping for the impossible was futile, after all.

“Look, I don’t care about this little passion project of yours,” Seokjin waved his hands around condescendingly, and you felt a familiar pang of anger surging from your chest. “And you’re lucky my father swooped in to purchase this hotel before you went bankrupt.”

“Thank you for the constant reminder,” you deadpanned, but he ignored you and continued. The gall of the man to show up and ridicule you made you irate. I take that back, he’s still an asshole in every aspect imaginable.

“To be frank, I think we’re both in a pinch here. You want your hotel back, and I’m willing to grant you that tiny little wish.”

You perked up; interest piqued. But you felt an ultimatum coming, so you squashed all hope arising from his statement. There was always a catch.

“My parents have been grooming me to become CEO ever since I learned how to walk. For me, acquiring the position is a no-brainer.”

“But?” you offered, and his grin widened.

“But lately my father refuses to hand me the reins. He’s been wanting to retire, but every year he keeps sticking it out. Then I unceremoniously learned my engagement with you. All of a sudden, his mood shifted, and his plans for retirement began piling up.”

Your brows creased in confusion, unable to see how you fit into all of this.

“My reputation precedes me, so I’m sure you’re aware of what I’m insinuating here.”

Something clicks in your mind, and you willed yourself to hold back a scoff.

“Enlighten me, Kim,” you propped your chin against your palm. If you were going to agree to this, you might as well have a little fun for yourself.

“My parents aren’t amused by my…” Seokjin trailed off.

“Decision to debauch half the women’s population of Seoul?” you offered, unable to hold yourself back. You grinned triumphantly; he had set himself up for that moral beating.

“I was going to say my inability to settle down, but sure, we’ll go with that,” Seokjin was unfazed, much to your disappointment. “He hadn’t explicitly said it but seeing the way everything is being handled so quickly, I can tell it’s what he wants. For me to get married; then maybe he’ll consider giving me the position.”

“And you didn’t oppose?” you asked incredulously. It seemed at the moment you were the one who is prepped to lose the most. What if it wasn’t you who the Kims chose for their son? Were you supposed to just accept defeat and give up your hotel?

“Oh, trust me, I vehemently opposed,” you nodded at his statement. At least you agreed on something. That was a start. “But that’s partly the reason why I’m here.”

“What more can we possibly do? We’re basically left with no option,” you grumbled, turning back to your laptop. For you, there was no way around this. Both your families have decided for you, so you have to either fall in line or risk losing your business.

“What if I tell you we can go back to our normal lives a few months from now? We won’t be married to each other. You’ll have your hotel back, and I’ll still be the CEO.”

You inadvertently leaned towards him, eager to know where the conversation was going.

“We just have to convince my parents and yours, as well as the board of directors of Kim Hotels and the public alike how we’re hopelessly in love with each other.”

Your mouth formed into a visible scowl, forehead creasing in confusion. You searched for hints of frivolity, waiting for him to say just kidding! at any moment. But his stoic face told you that he was being serious.

“And we’re doing this because…?” your patience had worn thin, expression marred by weariness and fatigue. You had a lot to get back to; you didn’t have time for silly games.

“It will make the divorce more believable.”

You paused, the gears in your brain turning. The agreement your parents told you about hadn’t involved a divorce; so, you were curious as to where Seokjin was going with his idea.

He was offering you an out; a way to get out of his family’s mess unscathed. You’ll have your only prized possession, and he can go back to sleeping with as many people as he wanted while retaining his coveted position. The proposition was too good to be true.

“What’s the catch?” your lips pursed, and you found yourself considering his ludicrous proposal.

“No catch,” he holds his two hands up in surrender, the corner of his mouth forming a smirk. You eyed him with suspicion.

“Just that you give effort into this whole thing. Make my father and the board believe enough to think I’ve ‘cleaned up my act’,” he paused to roll his eyes, “so that they’ll hand me the position without question. I promise you full ownership of the Hwang Hotel, without debt, as soon as we separate.”

While your parents’ original plan had been to marry you off entirely (which you did not want at all) Seokjin was sensible enough to figure out that you had no desires of tying the knot to someone you barely knew. He probably shared the sentiment, hence his proposal.

“This doesn’t make sense though,” you said pointedly. “Wouldn’t they find out about your motives when we divorce? And our parents technically arranged this, so they’ll be mad — I’m sure yours will be more than mine.”

You’re all in for finding a loophole in this whole arrangement, but you’re not sure you’ll agree if it will give you more problems in the long run.

He shrugged, unconcerned. “They can question it all they want. But like I said, if we make it believable enough, we can always reason that we ‘fell out of love’.”

In an attempt to alleviate a developing headache, your hands slowly massaged your temples. The information was a lot to hand, but no matter how many scenarios you played in your head, they all seemed to have the finale you wanted. Regardless of what happened within the upcoming months, you were going to get your hotel back.

“If you’re really that worried, let’s just say I cheated,” Seokjin’s words snapped you out of your muddled thoughts.

Your eyebrows creased in confusion. “Wouldn’t that be worse for you?”

“The public already thinks I’m a man-whore,” he said wryly. “The board is not going to kick me out of office for something tedious like a divorce once I’m CEO. And I’m sure I can reason it out with my parents when the time comes.”

You laced your fingers together, hoping to wring the concerns away. There was no use in overthinking the situation; it certainly beats staying miserably married to someone you barely know.

You let out a shaky breath, before mustering the confidence to say, “Fine.”

“Great, I knew you’d be reasonable.” He flicked his wrist to look at his watch, gaze composed despite the tiredness in his eyes. “I’ll have my secretary e-mail you a written agreement.”

“Great,” you mimicked his deadpan tone. Gone was the casual Seokjin who paced around behind the bar with much familiarity. This was the COO of Kim Hotels Seokjin; precise and straight to the point.

Better get used to that.

“Thanks for the drink, future wife,” he slid off the barstool with poise, the distance between you and him closing ever so slightly. He smelled like pine and cedar, with a hint of citrus; it was enough for you to suddenly sober up, unaware you were inebriated, to begin with.

“No need. You forced your way in, anyway.” You said dismissively, pretending to switch tabs on your screen. Where was that random website you were looking at earlier?

With a quiet laugh, he turned to leave. You listened to his rhythmic steps and perked up when he paused.

“See you tomorrow, fiancée,” he said without turning.

“Tomorrow?” you tried not to give away the surprise in your voice.

“We have to start going on dates to convince them that we’re serious about this, right? Pick you up at eight, sharp.”

With a wave of his right hand, he stalked off towards the exit, leaving you alone in the restaurant.

Suddenly, the premise didn’t appear so simple. You reached for your glass of wine and finished the rest of your courage drink in one gulp.

NEXT ; 

thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated ;u;

[saltlampsasuke]

Unfortunately, You Are Experiencing Symptoms of Falling in Love: Part 5

Having your long-term boyfriend cheat on you is pretty bad, but you're lucky enough to have a rich, pro-hero best friend who lets you move in with him until you get a new apartment. Except lockdown happens. And you can't look for a new apartment anymore, and you can't go anywhere anymore, and neither can your best friend, and you think you might be falling a little bit in love with him. Or maybe you've been in love with him all along.

The story of how it takes a nationwide lockdown for you and Bakugou Katsuki to finally get together, part 5!

warnings: Coronavirus mentions

wordcount: 1,936

taglist: @stargazerunlimited @luna-bloodrose​ @lov4kbg

So I am so so sorry for how long I took to update this, I don't really have a good excuse or explanation so I'll just once again say how sorry I am. But in good news, the plot setup is FINALLY over and now we can get to that good fluffy stuff! So thank you for bearing with me and please enjoy!

One morning, you woke up and saw that it had been two weeks since you moved in with Katsuki. You were a little surprised to realize how much time had passed without you noticing, and how easily you had integrated yourself into Katsuki’s life. Or rather, how much he had forced you to adapt to his ways of living. Not that you were complaining. You had been eating fantastically ever since you moved in, though Katsuki would refuse any thanks, and would often outright deny that he had made the food for you. And the apartment complex took care of your laundry for you, and you never really had to clean much either. It was almost like you were on vacation.

A typical morning for you would follow along these lines:

1) You wake up to the sound of Katsuki’s blender and your breakfast is waiting on the counter

2) You enjoy said breakfast and Katsuki says that he “doesn’t know why it’s there, now shut up and eat or you’ll be late for work”

3) You finish eating and get ready for work, which involves darting in and out of Katsuki’s bathroom, which causes you to bump into him with embarrassing frequency. Nothing terrible has happened yet, and you always knock and wait, but there’s always some part of you curious worried to catch him in a state of undress.

4) Katsuki gets fed up with your constant presence in his room and kicks you out so he can get ready (sometimes he will threaten to kick you out of his entire apartment, though you know he never means it)

5) You finish getting ready in your room and wait by the door for Katsuki to drive you to work

6) Katsuki stops by your favorite coffee shop, which now always has your order ready and waiting (who could have made that happen, I wonder)

7) You and Katsuki would have an argument over who would pay for your coffee (spoiler alert: it was never you who paid)

8) Katsuki would drop you off at work and demand you tell him when you need to be picked up, and no matter how much you tried to evade him he always was there once you walked out the door.

It was kind of embarrassing to admit, but the longer you spent living with Katsuki the happier you felt, and the more regret you felt as well for having let yourself become so sad and complacent with Takumi without even noticing. But you also had to pat yourself on the back for growing and moving past him. You rarely even thought about your ex now, and though part of you wondered what his reaction had been when he returned to a much emptier apartment, you didn’t have any time to think about him. You were too busy, between dealing with Bakugou at home and the destruction he wreaked on his gear in the field (as well as a special surprise you were cooking up for him as thanks), and you didn’t want to waste any mental space on such a waste of a man either.

Living with Katsuki was also so much nicer than living with Takumi had been. You two now had regular movie nights, would eat lunch together on the weekends, and sometimes, if he was tired enough from patrols, you could convince Katsuki to go swimming with you at night. The wide windows would let in the soft light from the moon and you could just relax. You felt so relaxed, all the time now. You felt safe. Of course, as soon as you had finally gotten truly settled and were ready to start looking for apartments again, not wanting to bother Katsuki for any longer than you already had, your life was once again upended in a way you could never have expected.

The first few things you heard about the virus came from the very man you roomed with. As a high-level pro hero, it was his job to be aware of threats to the citizens he protected, and while there wasn’t a way for him to blast a virus to bits, he still tried to stay informed. And of course, as a pro hero, he also had access to information from upper levels of government, and so he would always know about big developments before you. Still, initially, he didn’t seem worried. The only way you could tell that something was wrong was how he began to grow skittish at the idea of you moving out. Of course, that could have been for other reasons as well, but you were certain it was because of the virus.

To tell the truth, as days passed, you were also starting to worry about moving out. Getting a new roommate, or even a new apartment, could potentially be risky. You wouldn’t know the area, and you would be stuck with either a smaller, less nice apartment, or roommates, because you weren’t about to spend half of your paychecks on rent. And the situation was devolving quickly. To be honest, you would also miss having a in-house personal chef, even if he did yell at you.

Making matters even worse, the housing market seemed to have dried up completely. All the apartment listings you saw had something wrong with them; if you didn’t see the problem at first Katsuki would, and he wouldn’t hesitate to point it out. Dangerous neighborhoods, records of noise complaints, general ambiance, the minute you saw a halfway decent listing he would search it up and report back to you on why it wouldn’t work. Not to mention that all of the places that managed to pass his scrutiny were way out of your budget range.

He was just looking out for you, or as he put it “making sure he didn’t have to go to the trouble of moving your dumb ass back into his apartment again after your new places backfires”. And he was right every time about the problems. You were thankful he was taking the trouble, because otherwise you might have ended up in a real dump. But the days without a new place slowly grew in number. As did the number of cases. You knew both things were an issue. But you simply didn’t realize how much of an issue they would become until it was too late for you to do anything.

The morning you realized that your life was about to get even more different than it already had was the morning you didn’t wake up to the jarring screech of your best friend/temporary roommate’s deluxe blender, but rather to the smell of French toast. This wouldn’t by itself be light years past normal, but a quick look at your phone informed you that it was 9:37 on a Thursday morning. You slowly pulled yourself out of bed, confused. Katsuki would never let you sleep in like this unless it was some special occasion, and even then he would probably have woken you up eventually, calling you lazy to boot. As your brain began to wake from its fog, you headed towards your bedroom door. Katsuki was in the kitchen, you knew he had to be since you smelled him cooking, but nothing else about him seemed normal. He wasn’t in his sleeping clothes, but rather the kind of outfit he reserved for press conferences and major meetings, but the jacket was tossed on the floor and the clothes were rumpled like he had been doing hard work. His hair had lost it’s trademark spikes, flopping forward into his eyes, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. Worst of all was when you finally saw his face. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept the entire night. Come to think of it, considering how he looked, he probably hadn’t.

“Are you alright?” you said as he met your eyes. As he moved, you could see the exhaustion in his body, and you pulled him over to the couch, forcing him to sit down. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Let me make the damn breakfast, princess,” he grumbled from his seat, yet not moving.

“Breakfast can wait,” you replied as you turned off the burner. There was no way you could eat anything right now, not before you learned what was going on. “So talk.” Katsuki sighed heavily.

“Shit, where do I even start?” He ran his hands through his hair, causing it to lose even more of its shape. “I got a call last night around 8. Said it was an emergency meeting. I put on the fucking serious suit and everything, that’s how bad it sounded. Thought they were maybe gonna tell me that One for All had escaped or something. But this was… something else.” You held your breath as he explained. It was rare for him to be this serious, not exhibiting any emotion except determination. This was his battle face. You just had to wait for him to tell you what he would be fighting.

“I know you’ve heard about the virus that’s been going around, but it’s gotten real bad, princess. Turns out some higher-ups were downplaying it, thought it was maybe some weird quirk that they could shut down or something, but it’s not. We’ve got a real disease on our hands, and nobody can stop it. It’s gonna go global.” You blinked rapidly, trying to grasp the magnitude of what he was saying.

“Ok, but there has to be some quirk or something that can stop it, right? We can fix this?” you asked nervously. Katsuki shook his head.

“Hold on, princess. I’m getting there. We all talked about it. Everyone was there. All the big heroes, all the heads of whatever departments, anyone you can think of whose job it is to take care of the public. And there’s nobody. Healing quirks are rare as is, and with the way the virus has been spreading, no one quirk would be enough.”

“So what do we do then?” Katsuki placed a hand on your knee in an attempt to comfort you.

“Bet you’re wondering why I look like shit.” You nodded slightly. “We were out all night coming up with a strategy. We’re gonna get all our science guys on this, use whatever quirks we have to study this virus, and then do whatever we can to get a vaccine going. But for the time being, we have to shut down. The whole country has to stay home.” You stared at him in shock. Part of you had been wondering what would happen if the virus wasn’t a quirk, or if it couldn’t be stopped, but you hadn’t actually thought it possible. And now the entire nation had to be put on pause.

“Only essential shit can stay open. Grocery stores, hospitals, you get the idea. But everyone else has to stay in their house. There’s gonna be a more detailed plan later. But you won’t be leaving this building unless absolutely necessary.” Katsuki paused, clearly preparing to drop an even bigger bomb than the one he had just dropped. “And neither will I. I’m number 2. We’re hoping for a drop in crime if everyone takes this as seriously as they should, but they want the big heroes to avoid getting sick in case they need us to take out big villains if they try anything. They don’t want us out of commission if they need us. So it’s gonna be you and me in here. And it looks like it’s gonna be a while.”

---------------

Please forgive me for how short this is honestly I just wanted to be done with this chapter I know it's bad but now that I'm past it hopefully things will get better. And I think I’ll be remaking this blog because I apparently accidentally made this my side blog so I can’t reply to people so please keep an eye out for an update/post about that! I’ll also tag the new blog in all my posts so sorry for any trouble!!! Thank you for your support!

[neohighwayv]

Good enough

Characters: WayV’s Yangyang x fem reader

Genre: angst, fluff, bff!au

Word count: 4.1k

Description: In which you think you’re never good enough – and Yangyang does not know what to do when the strongest person he’s known breaks down.

------

“Hey, you can put your work aside for now, I got us dinner.” Yangyang announced he enters the shared apartment, closing the door with his foot as his hands were full of plastic bags filled with takeout food. He walked over to place the food on the kitchen’s island counter, right beside your pristine sleek silver laptop. He started unpacking the food from the red and blue plastic bags, making sure to buy your favourite dumpling soup from the stall at the end of the street, even though it took him a good 20 minutes to get there; he’ll do it for you – his best friend and roommate. He knew you’ve been working hard this semester, and whilst he can’t help with lightening your workload, he figured he could at least make you slightly happier by keeping you well fed.

You, however, ignored his presence entirely. Your eyes remained glued to the glaring laptop screen, the pages upon pages of words practically screaming at you to read them, yet the dull throb at the back of your head made it hard to get anything done. You’re reading the words but you’re not processing them. You’ve been going at the snail’s pace for the past 2 hours, only getting through 5 pages of this article. Yet, you’re not even sure if you’ve understood everything from the past 5 pages of it. Could you even tell a difference between Freudian theory and humanistic psychology now? Ask a toddler and they might be able to give a better answer than you can. Still, you’re the stubborn type – you truly never knew when to stop or take a break for your own good – and so you keep going.

Till the end of this chapter. Just 2 more pages before I take a break and have dinner with Yangyang.

You tune out the noises that Yangyang made beside you, tightening the grip on your mouse and fixing your stare on the screen more firmly. You will your heart rate to go down, torn between not wanting to keep Yangyang waiting versus finishing the chapter.

When all the food has been placed neatly into plates and scooped perfectly into bowls, Yangyang prompted you to take a break again.

“Let’s have dinner together now?”

“I know, Yang. Just 5 more minutes.” You snapped back immediately, tone clipped and tense.

That’s when Yangyang knew that he’s hit a nerve. He wanted to protest against your statement but he knew better than to do that. He’ll just anger you further. Hence, he bit back his remark, opting to chew on his inner cheek instead. Being your best friend for years has its pros and cons. The pro: You’re smart, which meant that he’s always got someone to help him whenever he got stuck with his assignments and a sharp eye to catch his mistake. After all, you’re not a double major in Psychology and Sociology for nothing. Not everyone got to boast about that. The con: Yangyang knew you well. Too well. In fact, better than he knew himself. He knew that you won’t back down from anything you say once it came out from your mouth. He also knew that you’re always determined to finish what you started. So when you said 5 more minutes, he knew that you actually mean “Till you finish that chapter” and that no matter what he said, you would not move from your seat or touch your food until you’re done doing what you’ve set out to accomplish.

Plopping down in his seat diagonally across you, Yangyang had to make do with eating dinner alone again (for 5th night in a row that week) At least this time he got to sit in your presence – the previous nights, you had simply brought your food into your room, typing away on your laptop between mouthfuls for food.

-

Throughout dinner, Yangyang chewed silently so as to minimise disturbance to you. He stole glances at you from time to time, trying to gauge when you’re about done with your article. He knew how to observe when you’re almost done – your eyeballs would move rapidly from side to side, rushing through the last paragraph before closing your laptop shut. But even as he swallowed his last bite of dinner, he knew you’re not done. You’re still stared intently at the screen, eyes unblinking and posture stiff. Your head is propped up on your knuckles as you used your other free hand to move your hair away from your face before resuming its original position against your mousepad, slender fingers moving smoothly across the surface of the pad. Yangyang thought he saw the faint outline of a vein against your temple and the tight clench of your jaw. You’re tense, extremely tense. You clearly need a break.

Gently, he prodded again. But he doesn’t get another word in before you snapped at him again.

“Hey, maybe – ”

“I know, Yang. I know. Just... just give me another 5 minutes...”

He heard the exasperation in your voice, noticed the way you seem to became smaller in stature; your chest collapsing into itself as your voice becomes so incredibly small that he could barely hear you despite the silence in the apartment. Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or were the edges of your eyes red? Something wasn’t right.

“Are you ok?”

“No, Yang. I’m not. I’m not ok.”

You snapped your head up to stare at him dead in the eye so quickly, that Yangyang worried that you might have snapped it into half. Your chest is heaving violently now, the silver necklace on lying on collarbones now glinting as it caught the artificial light from the lightbulb that hung above you. Your eyes got redder and glossier by the second, rare tears pooling around the edges.

“I’m not ok. This semester is going terribly and I just want to be done with it! It’s a groupwork but I’m the only one doing something. If I don’t say a thing, no one else does anything. Work meant for 5 ends up being done by 1. Yet there’s nothing I can do except suck it up because we’re at this stage where no higher authority would care if you can’t work with others. Just submit the work and be done with it! So, I suffer silently and hope I don’t break before I submit the thing.

 Gosh, I feel like I can’t even breathe because once I submit one assignment, I get another message saying that the new one is due at the end of the week! Just great!”

 At this point, you stopped to collect your breath, the first tears streaming down your face, the tinge of saltiness staining the tip of your tongue.

 “Professor Wang is not happy with my paper and she’s ‘extremely disappointed’ with my work. So much for being a damn straight A student when I can’t even submit a satisfactory piece of work. Oh, not to mention. I failed my driving test. For the 3rd time in the row. How pathetic. Went home and I got vindicated about it the entire weekend! ‘Your sister did it in one try. So did the rest of your cousins. Why can’t you?’ Well – it’s just too bad isn’t it? Driving doesn’t come easy to some of us. I’ve been trying so hard and not a word of acknowledgement from them – I just get blamed for wasting money and time.”

 At this point, you stabbed the tip of your pencil down hard on your blank piece of paper, causing the pencil lead to fly across the table top. Your knuckles were red from the vice grip you had on the pencil; your head bowed to prevent Yangyang from seeing the waterworks on your face. This entire time, Yangyang’s heart cracked with each revelation, never knowing how much you were hurting inside from all the pressure others were putting on you. Most importantly, the pressure that you were putting on yourself. He saw you every day... how could he be so blind to all the signs? The late nights, your quieter self, your bloodshot eyes. How could he possibly miss all that? He heard you suck in a deep breath, head still bowed as you place your head against your palm. From beneath the curtain of your hair, he heard your weak voice filled with hurt, voice wavering as you choked on your own words.

“I get it. I get it ok? I get that I’m not good enough. For anyone. For... anything. No matter what I do... what I try... I’ll never be good enough. I could try till I break myself but I’ll just never be good enough. I’ll just never, never, never be good enough and it hurts to be so painfully, aware of that.”

You finally looked up to face him - and Yangyang swears; he sweared on his life that he’s never seen you look so broken before and the sight immediately made tears prick the corner of his eyes.

 And that sight makes you cry even harder.

 You didn’t think that you were capable to producing more tears, not when your eyes were burning and you’re already so physically exhausted – but you do. You hated seeing him sad because he’s worried about you – the thought of making someone worried because of you showing your weakness – brought fresh tears to your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was to make your friends or family worried for you, and you absolutely hated being the cause of their pain. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to stop your strangled cry from leaving your throat, you didn’t want to make Yangyang anymore worried that he already is.

“Oh, I can’t do this anymore. I need to stop hurting people around me.”

That was the last coherent line that you managed to get out of your throat before you stumbled out of your chair, making a beeline for the bathroom so that you could cry alone. If he saw you break down anymore, you were certain he would start crying too and you didn’t want to be the cause of his pain anymore. You slammed the door shut behind you and proceed to slump down against the door, your weak body not even registering the heavy contact with the floor. The chilling bite of the cold tiles quickly seep through the floor to reach your body and your body shakes violently, but at this point in time, you’re not sure if you’re shaking violently from the cold, or the crying that is currently wrecking your body in waves. Strangled cries bubble in your throat, threatening to escape you but you clamped your lips shut tight, hoping that no sound would escape you. But you're not sure if that does the trick – you can't hear anything else over the wild thumping sound of your heart that currently filled your ears. You cried and cried and cried, the endless tears falling to stain your brown shirt into a darker shade of brown. In the past, you would have fought your tears, hating to show such a weak image in front of others and detesting yourself for doing so. But today, after months of fighting yourself and others, you're finally willing to concede – and for once in your life – you're willing to admit that you're too tired to fight anymore. You let your body does what it has to do to help you feel better – even if that meant crying yourself dry and hoping that all the pressure you've placed on yourself will be expelled through your tears.

 Throughout this entire ordeal, Yangyang sat shell-shocked in his seat, unable to move an inch. He can't really make sense of the mess of emotions he's feeling right now – but one particular emotion does stand out compared to the rest – shock. I mean – what does one do, when the strongest person you've ever known broke down in front of you? In this entire time of his 10 years knowing you, Yangyang might have seen you cry, but he's truly never seen you completely break down and reduced to tears by the pressure. Sure, he's seen you cry – when both of you are watching a particularly sad movie or you're listening to the harrowing history told by war survivors. But Yangyang has never – never ever, ever – seen you broke down from the pressure. That's why this episode was particularly shocking for him, because for you to do so, Yangyang knew that you must be under an immense amount of stress, to the point where you can't cope with it anymore. He thought back to all the times he's spent with you, and he cannot even conjure up an image of him comforting you. In fact, all he seemed to remember is being comforted by you. The countless amount of times he's called you over the phone to rant about someone's stupidity or a particularly infuriating incident – which usually ended with both of you eating dessert as he finished making his complaints between bites of ice cream. The infinite amount of post-it’s you left all over his belongings when you know he's going to have a rough week. He remembered when you showed up at his doorstep without him having to ask, immediately opening your arms to wrap him in a hug as he freely cried into your shoulder – the first time when his dog died from old age, and a couple more times after when he failed important things; tests, auditions and interviews that at that time, meant the world to him. In this friendship, you've always been the strong one, never once admitting that you're having a hard time. But Yangyang knew better now; should have known better earlier, that no one could be a superhuman. No one is truly invincible against the harsh realities of life – not even the strongest person he knew – and Yangyang wished that he had noticed the changes in you earlier. Of course, he knew that he's not fully responsible for you – you're an adult that should know how to manage herself and ask for help when she needed it. But as your best friend, maybe he should have checked up on you sooner. After all, that's what friends do for one another – to remind each other that they're always there should they need it. Maybe things would have been better if he had checked up on you earlier but it's too late to think about that now. Right now, you've locked yourself inside the bathroom to cry your heart out, and Yangyang's main priority as your best friend is to make sure that you're not left alone with your own self-loathing thoughts; to make sure that you're comforted – just like how you've comforted him so many times before. Yet Yangyang still can't seem to move an inch. He does not know exactly how to comfort you, he's never had to do this before.

Come on Yangyang, think. What should you do?

He fumbled over his few options – play you your favourite music, or buy you your favourite peppermint ice cream with bread from the uncle with the pushcart, or crack a joke. In the end, he decided to go with what he knew the best – comforting you like how you comforted him and Step 1 involved not leaving you alone with your own thoughts by having someone from your side.

Yangyang bolted from his seat, pacing quickly towards the bathroom before stopping outside the white door to rap his knuckles against the door, the rattling motion jolting you out of your stupor.

"Open up. Don't stay in there alone ok?"

"No Yang, please just leave. I'll be fine-" You catch yourself at this part. Are you truly fine? Were you ever truly fine? Whenever others asked you how you're doing, your default answer would be that you're doing fine. Even though you were struggling, the answer would be – "I'm fine." or "I'm doing well." You never wanted others to probe or ask too many questions, admitting to your struggles often made you embarrassed. Worse still, you didn't want family and friends to worry about you. "I'm fine" soon became a reflex, something you said without even processing the question that the other party had asked.

Your train of thoughts were broken when you heard Yangyang's voice travel through the door separating the both of you.

"No, you're not fine. I'm not leaving you alone so please open the door now."

"No Yang, I'm fine- I- just give me a few more minutes. I'll be out soon."

You heard Yangyang sigh heavily, his last words reaching your ears followed by the sounds of his footsteps walking away.

"I'm getting the keys."

"No Yang, don't you dare!"

You tried to raise your voice, but it betrayed you instead, cracking from being overused just now. You stomp your feet in frustration, feeling helpless once again. Yangyang was going to see your wrecked self soon, and there was nothing that you could do to stop it.

 Yangyang quickly sifts through the keys hanging by the front door before making his way back to the bathroom, slotting the key into the lock before twisting the door open. Once again, Yangyang was met by the harsh bite of your tone and words, but he brushed it aside. Your cold words directed against him is the least of his worries now. Comforting you, however, was his main priority.

"I said I'll be alright Yang, why-"

"You're clearly not ok. I know now. You're not ok. You haven't been ok for some time now."

You stood still when you heard him say such things, the words feeling foreign to your ears. No one has ever said those words to you because no one has ever saw through the strong front that you've put up before. Or even if they did, no one thought it was important enough to mention it. Someone finally noticed and cared enough to talk about it, and somehow that revelation made you want to cry again. Seeing you standing there unmoving, Yangyang decided to say something to break the silence again.

"You don't have to be ok all the time. So, would you just stop putting up a front for once, admit that you're not alright, and let me in? Come here."

This time round, you no longer resisted, allowing Yangyang to gently draw you into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, rubbing comforting strokes up and down your arms. Fresh tears streamed down your face at Yangyang's gentle gesture; you probably made a mess of his clean shirt but he could care less, that's not important now.

"Cry it out. Cry it out if you have to."

"Stop saying that! You're going to make me cry more."

"And that's completely alright. There's nothing wrong with crying."

"It's so embarrassing to cry – what do you mean there's nothing wrong with crying?"

You heard Yangyang take a deep breath, feel the rise of his chest against your cheek and you mentally prepared yourself for his lecture.

"There really is nothing wrong with needing a good cry to let out all your pent-up frustrations. There's nothing wrong with admitting that you need help, and asking for it. Can you internalize that and remember to come and find me when you're having a hard time? You do the same for me when I'm having a rough time, can you let me do the same for you? Even if you don’t come and find me, make sure you find someone else. Promise me that."

You stayed silent, not sure if you could ever bring yourself to admit being so weak in front of him again.

"Promise me." He shook your shoulders to elicit a response from you and you decided to grace him with a disgruntled muffle; not exactly the response that he was hoping for but he'll take that as a yes for now.

"Good. If you're ready to talk, we can work out how to go about dealing with your assignments and driving ok? Tomorrow we'll go see Professor Wang and get her to elaborate on how to improve your essay. As for driving... maybe take a break first. Like you said, you've been practicing a lot. Maybe too much. Knowing you, you probably went for tons of lessons before your tests. Am I right?"

You nodded weakly against his chest, a wry smile lifting the corners of your lips as memories of your driving lessons are brought to the forefront of your mind.

"Knew it. So, yea... maybe you should take a break. Give yourself time to absorb all that you've learned before you go back for lessons. The break will do you good – trust me on that. I'm only so carefree because I take more breaks than I should." Yangyang chuckled at his own words and you followed suit, your chest rising and falling as you let out soft puffs through your nose.

"Now that we've got a plan out for you, we should do one last thing."

"What is it?"

"We should get ice cream. And then you can rant about your teammates over ice cream. I want to get all that hot piping tea."

For the first time in a long while, you found the heart within yourself to let out a laugh, memories of Yangyang and his animated storytelling of terrible groupmates tickling your sides. Oh, how the tables have turned. It was finally your turn today. 

“So… are we going? Just waiting for your reply now.” 

There was no way that you were going to be able to say no to that, eating ice cream and complaining about people whilst eating was something that you and Yangyang always did; a sacred part of your relationship.

“Alright we can go, but let me wash up first and give my eyes some time to stop being red.” 

“WOOHOO! Ok, we’ll go once you’re ready.”

Both of you fall into comfortable silence again, Yangyang still held onto you in an embrace. 

“Thank you, Yang.”

“You’re welcome. I’m always available if you ever need me. Even if I’m busy, I am going to make time for you so come find me anytime ok?”

“Ok, I’ll remember to come find you next time.”

“There – you said it. You got to promise me. With a pinky swear and stamp.”

Yangyang removed an arm from your shoulder to place his hand in front of your face, his pinky finger sticking out from the rest of his fingers. You lifted your hand to hook onto his pinky before pressing your thumb against his own, using a little more force than usual and Yangyang smiled at that, knowing that it’s your way of saying that “I’m feeling better now. You don’t have to worry so much about me anymore.” 

“Pinky promise is done so you can never break the promise anymore. Oh, we’ll get extra-large scoops of ice cream later, my treat today!” 

“Sounds like a good plan, because I’ve got loads to say about my trashy group mates.”

“Awesome. Been dying to get some gossip lately, and now I’m finally going to get it.” 

You let out another hearty laughter at your best friend’s dramatic self, him following suit but when the laughter finally died down, you got some quiet time to be with your own thoughts again. 

 They often said that your worst enemy is yourself, and maybe that’s true for you. You constantly placed so much pressure on yourself, tearing and beating yourself up when you fell short of your goals because your failure is all that you could see, never the commendable effort that you put in or your perseverance to pull through with all your various responsibilities. You suffered silently by yourself even when the pressure became overwhelming, never one to admit your struggles because you didn’t want to be a burden to others – even when no one ever said you were. But today, you had been proven wrong. No one thought of you as a burden, and no one would say that you’re weak or embarrassing when you asked for help. And that if you did ask for help, those around you would actually come forth to render you their support. That’s what friends are for, to share the good times with, and to pick you up when you fell – and you were extremely lucky to have an understanding friend like Yangyang in your life. After all, no man is an island living in this harsh world alone – it’s easier to get by with help from friends and there will be someone willing to help you, if you’d only just remember to ask. You knew that old habits die hard, and perhaps even after this, you would go back into your shell and old ways. Yet, you’re confident that with a friend like Yangyang, someone would be there to look out for you, and coax you out of your shell whenever you forgot to take care of yourself again.

[nonasidesstuff]

the dimension travel au

aka Virgil’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

so this is like half bullet fic half outline half word vomit but here it is!

this is based on a set of art drawn by @greenninjagal-blog that you can find here with the original version of this au

i dont mind if anyone wants to use any of these ideas just tag me/send me a link if you do!

this got SUPER LONG so its going under a cut

ok lets start with

virgil

his world is medieval-with-magic

the magic here tends to take on different elemental forms depending on the user

people who use magic are called witches

his is storm based (lightning, rain, wind, etc) and is good for both offense (shooting fucking LIGHTNING at someone is great in a fight) and gardening (the ability to call rain at will is pretty nice)

he can also make potions but in his world ANYONE with magic can make potions

the thing is,,,,, magic is illegal in the kingdom he lives in

so when he found out he had magic at like age 11 he fucked off in the middle of the night

he found another witch (a water witch) fairly soon after he left and they taught him how to control his powers and how to make potions

also how to hunt bc hed planned on living out of cities

5 years later hes 16 and has learned all he could and leaves to go to the woods in the middle of nowhere

his teacher had told him about a cottage they had built in a clearing in the woods and said he could go there bc they were leaving the kingdom

they left behind a lot of books on magic and he learned more reading those

the cottage was actually in pretty good shape? the roof was a little leaky but the furniture inside was fine

the outside was a nightmare though. overgrown plants all over

as the years went on he restored the area around the cottage and found a bunch of neat stuff

like a vegetable garden that had been overgrown and wild but still had healthy plants he could cultivate for food. there were also some spice plants that had gone out of control that he harvested and dried for later use

he found out the woods around his home were full of berries (wild strawberries and blackberries. shhhhhh idc if they dont grow in the same places this is a Magic World) and discovered that one of the trees in the clearing was actually an apple tree so yay fruit!!!!

so he was living the good life

cut to 3 years later

hes 19 now and a full-blown weather witch and potion maker

he has sectioned off his garden into 3 parts: spices, vegetables, and potions ingredients

unfortunately some ingredients just wont grow well in a garden and have to be harvested from the wild

virgil realizes hes running low on a couple of said ingredients and decides to make a run to the patches of potion herbs he knows of

he only gets halfway there

a swirling blue-and-yellow vortex opens up 20 feet in the air to the right of him and something falls out

something human shaped

holy shit its a PERSON

he rushes over to make sure this person is okay and.

they have reddish brown fox ears?????

and a reddish brown and grey tail????????

he pokes one of the ears and it twitches

holy shit theyre REAL????!!!!!!!!!

he gathers up this person and takes them home

he puts the strange person in his bed and tends to the minor injuries they obtained from falling 20 feet

this is when he realizes that this person is dressed,,,,,, very strangely

now, people in virgil’s world have some freedom in what they can wear. they can wear whatever the FUCK they want. virgil is partial to dresses and skirts himself

but what this person is wearing is different. the material was like nothing hed ever seen before and in a strange style

(it suits him. its really cute)

he slept for a little over 9 hours

(virgil slept on the floor)

and when he woke he was disoriented and woozy

so he ate a small meal and drank some water and fell back to sleep for another couple hours

when he wakes again, he feels much better and is able to introduce himself

“I’m Patton Baker! Where am I?”

patton

his world is like if you took every single magical girl/boy anime out there and mashed it into one world.

so its chaotic

theres aliens/demons/monsters attacking every other week

this attracts magical creatures like a magnet and they start giving magical girls/boys powers. these are called magical guardians

these people are public figures and are treated the same way idols are in our world (not allowed boyfriends/girlfriends etc)

its a tough job

patton became a magical boy when he was 14 and has been for the past 3 years

the powers his magical guardian are able to give are based off of endangered or threatened animals (yes im sort of copying tokyo mew mew shhhhhhhhhh)

patton became infused with the dna of the island fox

his transformation is triggered by a small tattoo-like marking given to him by his guardian. it’s on the base of his neck

he Absolutely has a magical girl transformation

when he’s transformed, he has the ears and tail of an island fox as well as claw-like nails. his hair is the reddish-brown of the fox and his eyes are silver

his outfit is light blue with silver and white accents and dark blue sleeves

when detransformed he has blond hair and blue eyes

his magical boy weapon is a bow that he can shoot arrows of light from

his group was based out of florida and has been going strong for about 15 years. magical teens come and go as they gain their powers and retire or, tragically, lose their lives fighting

at the moment there are six people including patton

their most recent foe is a monster that has the ability to make people and things disappear, and they’re not sure what happens to them

theyre fighting this thing at night when it happens. the creature has already taken the streetlights out and the teens are fighting in heavy darkness. patton, who has better night vision due to his fox genes, sees the monster about to grab the leader, and strongest, of their group

and he makes a choice

he pushes her out of the way and gets grabbed by the monster instead.

there’s a single moment of searing pain and then the world dissolves into swirling lights and dizziness

when he wakes he’s in a strange house. he introduces himself and the person who’s taking care of him introduces himself

he’s told he fell out of some sort of portal and virgil tries to help him figure out where he is in relation to his home but. virgil doesnt recognize any of the places patton is talking about. and patton doesnt recognize any of the ones virgil says

virgil asks patton about the fact that He Is Part Fox and patton talks about the magical system back home and thats when they realize theyre dealing with dimension travel

patton stays in bed for the rest of the day and by the next hes feeling much better! so he helps virgil around the house and they get to know each other

the day after that, virgil remembers that he really needs those herbs, so he tells pat hes going out for a bit to gather them

he gets about a quarter of the way there when Another Portal Opens and dumps out a person. this time right in front of him

this person is also wearing odd

clothing, but in a different style than pattons

he checks to make sure theyre not injured (they knocked their head a bit but other than that seem fine) and carries them back home

the person is unconscious in virgil’s bed for a couple of hours longer than patton was, but he wakes up entirely coherent

he introduces himself as “logan croft”

logan

his world is one full of magic

magical creatures of all sorts live there and magic is a welcome part of society

there’s elves, fairies, merfolk, unicorns, any you can think of

magical schools are also big parts of it

people who have mastered their magic to the highest degree are called mages

everyone else are called wizards

the way magic works in this world is with spells (think harry potter but without wands)

some people are born with more magic than others and as such have a harder time controlling it when it manifests at around 10

so theyre sent to magic schools where they learn how to safely do so

if they want to stay at these schools after they learn control then they move on to higher forms of magical education to continue learning

logan is one of these students

he was born with a MASSIVE amount of magic and when it manifested he. accidentally leveled his house

everyone was fine!!!!!!! but the poor boy had absolutely no control

so he stayed at a school for people with high amounts of magic and by the time he was 13 he had enough control to leave if he wanted to

of course this being logan he Absolutely wanted to keep learning so he moved on

he was so good actually that he ended up in the best magic academy in the world

he consistently learned magic at a faster rate than his peers and so by the time he was 18 (people normally didnt until they were like 21/22) he was a mage in all but name

so he was ready to take his mage exam

the mage exam is considered both easy and the hardest and most dangerous thing you could do

its easy in the fact that you only have to cast a spell correctly

its hard and dangerous bc its a spell that NO ONE outside of historians have ever seen before and you only have 10 minutes to memorize it. things go wrong Frequently

needless to say there arent many mages and people tend to either quit before reaching that stage or fail

and failure can be painful

so logan decides to take the mage exam

the spell they are given is a long string of words dug out of an ancient book of spells and historians arent entirely sure what it does

so ofc its given to the best in the academy

logan takes his ten minutes to memorize the spell and begins chanting

now in this world, when spells are used a runic circle made of light appears under the person casting

small spells have small circles and bigger spells have larger and brighter ones

the one this spell called forwards was massive and so bright that it blinded the exam practitioners (i think thats the word?)

when the light died down logan was gone

theyre unsure whether it went right or wrong but unfortunately theres no trace of where logan had gone so theres no way to see

when he wakes hes somewhere he doesnt recognize and is being taken care of by two people

they all introduce themselves and logan gets the story about what happened to him

and he realizes hes in a different dimension with different magical rules

naturally he wants to learn everything

so he and virgil have long discussions about the differences in their magic systems

(with patton chiming in every once in a while with how bonkers magical girl powers are)

after logan gets back on his feet virgil really REALLY needs those herbs and so he decides to go back out

logan tags along this time bc he wants to see the differences between the flora and fauna of this new world

they get about half way there and once again.

a portal opens

its light blue and yellow

virgil goes “jesus christ AGAIN??????? am i a MAGNET for these things??????????”

and a person falls out

theyre another animal person. this time with scales covering the side of their face and down their arms

virgil and logan carry this whole other person back home and as soon as they walk in

patton is like “janus????!!!!!”

janus

turns out

janus is from pat’s world!!!! and the same mg group!!!!!

he became a magical boy about a year before pat did and was merged with the dna of a golden lancehead viper

so hes been a mg for like 4 years

his outfit is white with yellow bows and a black cape thing with a yellow inside. his scales are bright yellow and his eyes are heterochromatic. one is a normal eye (brown) and the other is a bright gold color with a snake-like pupil

his marking is on the inside of his left wrist

his weapon is a set of knives made of light that he can call at will and either slash with or throw

he and patton got along rather well in the current time

in the past, they,,,, didnt

it wasnt violent but they were kinda snippy at each other and janus was aggressively sarcastic which pat Did Not Appreciate

but after working together for a few years they got to know each other better and saw each other through low points in their lives and became close

janus was still a sarcastic little shit but now its more playful

he likes to suggest “pushing it down a flight of stairs” for any problem

“man i have a big math test tomorrow with a mean teacher that i didnt study for im screwed”

“push it down the stairs”

“the teacher or the test?”

“yes”

he will also aggressively remind you that Self Care Is Good And Needed

(“patton youve been patrolling for hours every night this week. go sleep”

“but i-“

“go 👏 to 👏 sleep 👏”

“bu-“

“go sleep or im going to knock you unconscious and THEN youll sleep”

“ok fine”)

anyways the dimension monster came back and despite the whole group being more careful, it got janus

luckily (to every one else) this time they managed to defeat it

once again, the pain of dimensional travel fucking SUCKED and janus was unconscious for about as long as patton was

he woke and ate a small meal and fell back asleep for like an hour

when he woke up that time he was shocked and happy to see patton

they reunite and everyone gets to know each other over the next couple days

and then virgil remembers that he STILL HASNT GOTTEN HIS HERBS and they all decide to tag along when he leaves to get them

virgil just like sighs and said “nothing better happen this time i swear to god-“

and they make it most of the way there!!!!! virgil feels a little hope!!!!

then another portal opens

its red and green

(virgil: “GODDAMMIT”)

this time TWO people fall out

the group gather up the two portal people and take them home to heal bc

holy shit they are in bad condition

theyre unconscious for a solid 2 days

Roman and remus

their world is BAD yall

the world is very scientifically advanced, and a group if scientists decided that they wanted to prove the existence of alternate universes

and they did!

but they accidentally opened a portal to a hell dimension and they couldnt close it

so the whole world became an apocalyptic nightmare

this happened when the twins were 15

theyve been surviving on their own in an apocalyptic hellscape for just over 4 years now

remus is the close range fighter with a variety of Large Sharp Knives and roman hangs back and snipes the ones going in for remus’ blind spots with a modified rifle. or if he has to fight closer range he has a modified pistol

roman also is the one to carry their medical supplies bc remus did Once and never will again

they travel together bc even though they cant stand each other some days (remus makes gross comments a Lot and roman likes to complain about the lack of conditioner)

(roman once found an old bottle of perfume and dumped it on remus’ head. in retaliation, when they were relatively safe remus found a dead squirrel and chased roman around with it for a solid 15 minutes)

theyre still twins and theyre all each other have left

currently, roman and remus are running from a creature that caught them off guard while they were sleeping

it had managed to get a few good hits on them before they managed to fight back so they both have a couple injuries

roman has a long slice down his arm and remus has some real bad claw marks down his back

the two of them find a building they can hide in while they wait for the creature to move on and discover that its some sort of science lab

they decide to explore for a bit bc they have 0 braincells between the two of them

what they dont realize is that this is one of the labs that the scientists were using to build their dimensional machines

what they do realize is that the monster found them and it starts chasing them through the facility

the two of them are in really bad shape

malnourished after living on just what they can find for 4 years, both bleeding profusely from open wounds and various injuries from other run-ins with the creatures

they arent able to run as fast as they usually are able and so they get cornered in a room with a large machine

they back up to it to stay away as long as they can and

one of them presses a button

the machine behind them whirrs to life and the two are sucked into a portal oh so similar to the one that ruined the lives of everyone on their world

roman wakes first

he wasnt hurt as badly as remus so the portal didnt take as much out of him as remus

everyone introduces themselves and roman has the his first full meal in. a long time

(he might cry a lil bit but shhhhhhh)

and now that hes awake, virgil can give him a potion to help speed up his healing

thats when romans like “holy shit MAGIC?????”

bc there was none on his world

and they all talk and get to know each other

(the other four are Horrified at how awful his world was

bc like, patton and janus’ wasnt very good either but it wasnt an apocalypse

the next day virgil leaves logan in charge and FINALLY goes and gets his GODDAMN HERBS

nothing happens this time :)

and when he gets back remus is awake

hes fed and virgil gets him a potion too

the two heal and just kind of marvel at the fact theyre safe for the first time in years

also that theres GODDAMN MAGIC!!!!!!!!!!

they still can’t believe theres actual magic

the five dimension hoppers eventually meet thomas, virgil’s talking magic cat

(virgil: “he can think and talk like a human hes not my cat”

thomas: “im totally your cat stop denying it”)

he decided to wander around the forest for a while (he does this often) and only got back after all of the portal shit ended

he is the only cat with magic and says he ALSO fell out of a portal but it was a few years before he met virgil

i dont really know what happens after this

maybe they go try to figure out how to get home?

maybe they decide to stay and live in the woods for the rest of their lives

 maybe they decide “you know what? FUCK the government” and stage a coup to make magic legal

 whichever it is definitely has a lot of found family goodness

can you tell i started running out of steam like 3/4 of the way through

[jetsetlife138]

Imaginary - Chapter 7

Rating: Mature for this chapter, but Explicit in future chapters

Pairings: Alastor x Fem!Reader, Alastor x Lucifer x Reader

Summary: Somehow thrown into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Chapter Warnings: Manipulation 

Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Holy shit. Oh, fuck. There he was. The creature you had heard about your entire life. The epitome of all things evil and corrupt… the embodiment of sin… and he was standing directly in front of you, meeting your horrified expression with an amused one of his own.

Finding words was impossible as your mouth hung open in shock, unsure of what to say or how to address your current situation. Granted, this Lucifer was an animation, and an extremely whimsical one at that, but considering what you had heard, you were certain that he was capable of terrible and downright unspeakable things.

“Cat got your tongue?” Lucifer teased, quirking an eyebrow.

At that moment, it just so happened that a grumpy cat-demon was passing by. From the hallway, you could hear Husk grumble, “Fuck off,” clearly offended by the remark and probably on his way to the bar. He seemed to be surprisingly unfazed by Lucifer’s presence. Either that, or he was completely oblivious to the fact that he was even there.

Luckily, Charlie broke the tense silence that filled the room. “W-where’s Mom?

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Lucifer turned to address his very clearly emotionally overwhelmed daughter. “She’s on another one of her holidays. She took the gardener and fled to the Lust Ring for some time away. I think that it will do her some good.”

Upon noticing Charlie’s look of discomfort and your perplexed expression, Lucifer chuckled darkly. “Lilith and I have what you would call an open relationship. I adore the woman, but alas, she and I tend to grow tired of each other’s company after several millennia. You could not have come at a better time, little human!”

Changing the subject, Charlie interjected, “So… that’s why you’re here? I haven’t heard from you or Mom in weeks, but somehow you can find the time to cross the Seven Rings to see someone you don’t even know?”

“Oh, Charlotte. Desperation is not a good look on you,” Lucifer sneered, brushing off Charlie’s jab. “You’re a Magne for Satan’s sake. Wipe that dejected look off of your face and stop embarrassing yourself.”

Fighting back tears, Charlie’s bottom lip quivered, but she managed to keep herself in check. “Yes, Dad…”

Anger was bubbling up inside of you and threatening to spill over. You had exchanged a look with Alastor, who very subtly shook his head, indicating that now was not the time to lose your cool.

“Now,” Lucifer declared, clapping his hands together excitedly. “Let’s get moving, shall we? Oh, this is absolutely thrilling! I have so many things to inquire about.” 

Finally finding your words, you spoke barely above a whisper, “I don’t want to leave.”

Wagging his finger disapprovingly at you, Lucifer chastised, “I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter. You’re deliciously powerless and at the mercy of Hell’s ruler… who just happens to be me!” He cackled at his own joke, which wasn’t even funny.

“But, Dad,” Charlie couldn’t stop herself from butting in. “She’s doing well here. We’re keeping her safe and she’s just getting settled. We’re making progress, and I really don’t think that it’s a good idea--”

“Enough!” Lucifer snarled, shaking the whole room with the intensity of his anger. He bared his teeth at Charlie, his eyes now a fiery red and yellow as he glared at her. “Do not defy me, child. Your sympathy for other creatures is pathetic and will be the end of you. I will not tolerate it!”

To Charlie’s credit, she refused to cower before him and instead puffed out her chest, challenging him as her own eyes flashed red and yellow back at him.

“If I may,” Alastor’s calm and collected voice cut through the tension in the room. “The princess makes a valid argument.”

As everyone turned to look at the Radio Demon, Lucifer returned to his former self, brushing his hair back to smooth out the blonde strands that had fallen out of place during his fit of rage.

“Ah, Alastor. I see the rumors are true. You’ve decided to embark in the hospitality industry. It’s a far cry from Overlord status, but to each their own, I suppose.”

Alastor remained eerily still, his smile prominently projecting while his eyes narrowed ever so subtly, which Lucifer seemed to pick up on. “Come now, old friend. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you and your endeavors. Perhaps you can teach my daughter a thing or two about Hell and the roles each must play.”

“I have no intention of soliciting false pretenses, Luci, my dear. I am merely here to watch the scum of the earth struggle for betterment before they trip and tumble down into the fiery pit of failure.” A shiver crept down your spine as he finished and he had a sinister gleam in his eyes.

“Ha!” Lucifer exclaimed. “I should have known. You’re far too clever to abed Charlotte in a failed quest of humanity.”

“Come now, Luci,” Alastor began, tutting the King of Hell. “Must you be so cynical? If nothing else, she’s providing entertainment. I would think that you, of all sinners, would enjoy that.”

“Apparently, you know nothing of the things that I enjoy, Stag,” Lucifer quipped using a peculiar nickname.

Alastor hummed thoughtfully. “Oh, I wouldn’t say nothing.”

An awkward silence filled the room as Lucifer cleared his throat before swallowing thickly. Alastor’s cold and calculated stare was unwavering and wicked.

Quickly averting the topic, Lucifer stated, “The fact remains, it’s not safe for a vulnerable human here in the hotel.”

“I beg to differ,” Alastor countered, nonchalantly twirling his cane in his hands. “She’s no safer with you, my king. You have a significant target on your back and were she to stay with you, she would be in constant danger.”

“I could say the same for you,” Lucifer argued, narrowing his eyes while his smile widened. The similarities between Lucifer and Alastor were unsettling. “You’ve certainly made your fair share of enemies.”

“That may be, but I have nothing but free time,” Alastor deflected with a hint of malice. “You have enough on your plate, what with the recent extermination and those dreadful turf wars that are always on the picture show. The last thing you need is to be burdened with something like this.”

Lucifer sneered, pausing to look over the Radio Demon as if he were looking for something to give him ammunition for the conversation. “If I didn’t know any better, my old friend, I would think that you were trying to manipulate me into allowing her to stay.”

Alastor’s smile crept higher into his cheeks, the slits of his eyes thinning ever so slightly. “I think we’re far past the point of manipulation. I won’t beat around the bush. It would be a mistake for you to take her into your custody.”

Lucifer growled, his impatience fracturing the surface of his indifferent disposition. “The mistake would be to underestimate me.”

“Dad, enough!” Charlie interjected, no longer able to stifle her disdain. “Why is it always a fight with you? Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“Charlotte,” he warned, not bothering to look at her.

“For the last time, it’s Charlie ,” she opposed, fuming. “I just… we were managing just fine. Why does this even matter to you?”

“Charlie,” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “Just when I think there might be hope for your future, you set yourself up for failure. You are a disappointment and an embarrassment to me, and I grow tired of your insolence.”

Each word spoken was like a dagger in Charlie’s heart. She was trying so hard to be strong, but she was close to breaking down. Unable to hold back any longer, you snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

The words had left your mouth before you could stop them. The whole room fell silent as everyone turned to Lucifer to gauge his reaction.

“Beg your pardon?” he inquired, his expression stoic.

Swallowing thickly, you continued, “Why are you being so unnecessarily cruel? She’s your daughter , and she’s been nothing but kind and helpful since I arrived. Why do you have to openly mock and demean her like that?”

His eyes searched yours as you stood frozen, waiting for him to slaughter you on the spot for talking back to him. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed, clearly entertained by your ignorance. However, just as you thought he was going to let it go, you were thrown up against the wall, his hand at your throat as he lifted you from the ground. Your nails raked at his hands while your feet scuffled, trying to find anything to lift you and alleviate the pressure on your neck.

“Silly pet,” he hissed, his eyes becoming snake-like as he glared at you. “You’re here as my guest, and I am a courteous host, but make no mistake… should you cross me, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Finally, he let go, allowing your body to slump to the ground as you choked and gasped for air.

Brushing off his sleeves and straightening out his jacket, Lucifer sighed before speaking. “She will remain here temporarily until I can make proper arrangements.”

No one spoke as he looked down at you on the ground, grinning wickedly. “Take care, human. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, he saw himself out, not bothering to utter another word, leaving behind a haunting silence in his wake.

You hardly noticed the hand that was being extended to you as you sat on the ground, dazed by the interaction. When you glanced up, you saw that the hand belonged to Alastor, who was offering you a casual smile. “How are you so happy all the time?” you grumbled as you took his hand, allowing him to haul you to your feet.

“A smile does not necessarily convey happiness,” he explained as he looked you over. “Hell is prominently filled with barbaric individuals who favor crass behavior above all else. It’s quite dull. I myself am in favor of a more amiable approach.”

Before you could respond, Charlie approached you, wrapping her arms around you as she pulled you into a tight embrace. “Are you okay?” she asked, still tightly coiled around you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

Retracting herself, she nodded glumly. “I’m used to it. In case you couldn’t tell, my dad and I don’t exactly have the best relationship. And as much as I appreciate what you did, you really need to be careful. He holds grudges, and you don’t want to get on his bad side.”

Nodding your head, you asked, “What happened to Vaggie?”

Sighing, Charlie answered, “She always makes herself scarce when he’s around. It goes without saying that Vaggie is a bit… outspoken, and she doesn’t want to slip up and say something that she’ll regret. She knows that it will only make things worse for us.”

“Ah, got it.”

Alastor thumped his cane against the wooden floor to gain your attention. “Well, my dear. It seems that we are on the clock. I think it would be best to get you back into the mortal world before Lucifer can carry out his plans. Make no mistake, he’s a cheeky fellow, but you do not want to be caught in his web.”

“Hey! What you got against webs?” Angel Dust popped his head in the doorway, scowling at the Radio Demon.

“Nothing at all, Mr. Dust!” Alastor replied cheerily. “It’s a simple comparison.”

“I’m going to go check on Vaggie,” Charlie stated. “After that, we can come up with a plan. There’s got to be something more that we can do than just go through books to try and get you home,” she thought out loud, a determined gleam in her eye.

As she left, Alastor approached you, placing a bony hand on your shoulder, which he meant as a comfort, but instead had the opposite effect, sending a chill down your spine. “Fear not, my dear. I will not let anything happen to you.”

With a wink, he withdrew his hand and glided out of the room, humming a show tune on his way out, leaving you alone with Angel Dust.

“Guess I missed all the fun,” he quipped before he flung back onto the bed, placing his top set of arms around his head. “Heard the Big Guy was in. He’s a charmer, ain’t he?”

“You know him?” you asked, your interest piqued.

He shrugged his shoulders casually. “Not personally. But I hear the gossip. Val can’t stand him.”

“Am I supposed to know who Val is?”

Rolling his eyes, he replied, “He’s the top dog around these parts, sweetheart. Big Vee controls the black market of Hell, and that’s sayin’ somethin’. You wanna know somethin’ outside the norm? He’s your guy.”

Humming thoughtfully for a moment, you asked, “Do you think he’d know anything about returning me to my world?”

“Probably,” he teased, brushing his hair back. “Val knows lots a weird stuff. He might be your guy.”

“Where do I find him?” you pressed, eager for more information.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the spider demon cautioned. “You don’t just show up unannounced. You need an appointment, toots.”

“Okay,” you sighed, losing your patience. “Can you set up an appointment?”

“I could… but what would you do for me in return?”

Narrowing your eyes, you asked, “Seriously?”

He flashed a smile at you, showing off his golden tooth as he wriggled his eyebrows.

“What is it that you want, Angel?”

“How’s about an I.O.U.? I do this for you, and you owe me a favor. Capiche?”

“How do I even know that I can trust you,” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

In mock offense, Angel Dust put a hand over his heart, dropping his jaw. “Well, that’s just rude. I’m trustworthy! I haven’t told a soul about your relationship with Smiles!”

Huffing, you snapped, “There is no relationship! You just keep walking in at the wrong time!”

“Uh huh,” he teased, snickering. “Either way, I’ve kept my mouth shut, even when there was nothing in it for me. If you wanna talk to Val, I can make that happen, but no more of this free shit. You owe me. Got it?”

“Ugh, okay, fine. Just… make it fast, please.”

Jumping up from the bed, the spider blew you a kiss before heading out on his mission, leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your gut. If only you knew what you had just done.

Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen @chasingfireflies1999 @galaxy-meteor @cecidit-31 @shadowclawstudio88 @utterly-disappointing @opheliuva @trinswhimsys  @skylarhedges @whogavebrynjolfpermissiontobehot @sailor-earth-1

[mdzsgildedfate]

Gilded Fate - Chapter 11

Reincarnation AU [Chapter 11/?] Characters: Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling, Original Characters. Pairings: Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi, Xue Yang/OC

A deafening silence fell over the temple as the last of the students disappeared out of sight. The sun was beginning to sink in the sky and a small chill was settling in, serving as a reminder of the impending season change. Jin Ling stared on down the path long after everyone had gone, mulling over the situation still at hand. Clenching his jaw, he spun around and disappeared back inside the temple.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he quickly made his way through the winding hallways. Even though one of the potential dangers had been somewhat resolved, Jin Ling didn’t feel any less on edge. During Xinyi’s awakening, something stuck out to him- a seemingly insignificant detail that had unsettled him. Perhaps it was nothing. Very likely, it was completely unrelated to the other disturbing occurrences in the temple, but he wasn’t about to leave any stone unturned.

Hunting down Xiao Xingchen hadn’t been difficult. Jin Ling quickly found him drifting about the halls, looking nearly indistinguishable from the other ghosts that lingered around the premises. Even with the noise he made in approaching, Xingchen didn’t acknowledge the other cultivator until he was standing directly in front of him.

“Xiao Xingchen.” Jin Ling addressed him, blocking his path. “What happened back there with Song Lan?”

Xingchen gave his usual noncommittal shrug and tried to move past Jin Ling.

“Cut the crap. I know you’re faking.” Jin Ling squared his shoulders, refusing to let the man leave. “I heard you say Xinyi’s name. I know you can talk.”

The priest paused, looking at Jin Ling with an annoyed expression. “Why do you think I have some hidden information? You saw the same thing I did. Song Lan lost control of his Yin energy for a moment.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that?”

Xingchen drew back with a bemused expression. “What are you implying?”

“Song Lan has had over eight thousand years to learn energy control. I don’t believe for one minute that a sword fight with Xinyi was enough to break that.”

“Believe it or not, it’s none of my business.” Xingchen pushed past Jin Ling. “If you’re so worried, why don’t you go ask him?”

Grabbing Xingchen’s shoulder, he pulled him back to face him. “I will when I find him. I don’t suppose you know where he is?”

“No. I don’t. I don’t make a habit of keeping track of his location every second of every day.” He replied, looming over Jin Ling. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with your stories of caves and demonic cultivators, but I’m tired of entertaining this game.”

Jin Ling’s jaw dropped in surprise, shocked by Xingchen’s disposition. He knew Song Lan was reluctant to believe what he’d said, but at least aired on the side of caution. Xingchen’s total lack of concern and blatant disregard of the potential danger was startling.

“Fine!” He snapped after a long pause. “It’s no wonder Song Lan is the way he is, walking through hell for someone who won’t even talk to him.”

Xingchen stopped dead in his tracks, fists clenched. Stepping even closer to Jin Ling, black veins creeping up his neck, Xingchen grabbed the front of the man’s robe. With their faces so close together, Jin Ling could see the faint remnants of tear stains on the priest’s face.

“How dare you make such wild presumptions about us?” He hissed, “Why should I be grateful to someone who condemned me to an endless life as a fierce corpse? Why should I be grateful to someone who keeps me locked away here?”

Suddenly dropping Jin Ling’s lapel, Xingchen stepped back, squeezing his eyes against the tears threatening to spill out again. Jin Ling watched speechlessly, cycling between shock and guilt.

“Song Lan didn’t walk through hell for me.” The veins receded and his fists unclenched, his demeanour relaxing into a state of defeat. “He brought me back so he could feel better about what happened. Everything he did was with complete disregard to my feelings. My refusal to speak is the only mercy I can show him.”

“Do you really hate him so much that Xue Yang’s company was preferable?” Jin Ling asked, muscles tensed.

Xingchen turned his gaze to the Jin Cultivator, falling quiet for a long time before speaking again. “When I died, I was blind. When I woke up, I suddenly wasn’t. That was just one of many secrets Song Lan has kept from me the past three thousand years. Xue Yang’s presence here was likely my last chance to find answers. It was hardly a matter of whose company was preferable.”

With that, the priest walked away, leaving Jin Ling behind to process the information. Seeing Xingchen’s raw emotions, he could understand why he’d chosen to feign being mute to Song Lan. Jin Ling himself had separated from the two Lans for a similar need to avoid difficult conversations, he could only imagine what it’d be like if he had to live isolated with them like Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Jin Ling returned his focus to the trouble at hand. Song Lan’s outburst still held suspicion for him, regardless of Xingchen’s opinion on it. Returning to his sweep of the temple, he searched every nook and cranny of the building in search of the other priest. Without the students occupying them, the spare rooms echoed eerily, feeling entirely too empty.

Coming to the last room, a fresh anxiety swelled within Jin Ling. If Song Lan wasn’t inside, it meant he had disappeared from the temple again. After his initial encounter with Xiao Xingchen, Jin Ling hadn’t run into a single other person. Something definitely didn’t feel right. Steadying his breathing, and trying to quell his growing unease, Jin Ling reached out and slid the door open. And let out a sigh of relief.

“There you are.”

With his back to Jin Ling, Song Lan stood ridgid in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

“Song Lan?”

The man jolted slightly, coming to life and rotating to face the other cultivator. Ice ran through Jin Ling’s veins immediately. Before he had a chance to react at all, his body suddenly froze, refusing to move no matter how hard he strained his muscles. His heart pounded in his chest as he heard movement behind him- the light footsteps of someone walking just out of view. His vision blurred and everything went black.

~X~

Most of the ride back to Beijing was passed dozing off and on. The adrenaline from his injured hand had worn off, leaving Xinyi feeling exhausted. His head rested on Chen’s shoulder, with one of the man’s arms wrapped around him, occasionally shifting in his seat whenever the ride’s turbulence rattled him awake. In between those moments, his dreams came forward in vague clips- memories from his life before.

As they pulled into the university parking lot, Chen gently shook him awake so they could begin gathering their things. Everyone filed off quietly, having still not quite recovered from the shock at the temple. Most of the students headed back to the dorms, leaving only a spare few stragglers to trudge through the parking lot in search of their own cars. Exchanging a few words amongst themselves, QianHua waved goodbye and left Chen to drive Xinyi home.

Before they made it far, Sizhui and Jingyi stopped them. Urging Chen to keep walking, Xinyi turned to face the two men.

“Xinyi. I won’t keep you long, I know you’re tired and in pain.” Sizhui said, choosing his words carefully. “But we’re obviously apprehensive about what happened-”

“Apprehensive?” Xinyi asked, looking at the two blankly. “You haven’t stopped staring at me since we left the temple. Are you afraid I’ll kill someone if you blink?”

“This isn’t my first time witnessing someone remember their past life.” Sizhui continued, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m not ruling out the possibility.”

“Considering what kind of person you used to be.” Jingyi added.

“Right. Because you knew me so well?” Xinyi narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t you know me better now?”

“It’s true, we’ve known you longer as Xinyi than as Xue Yang.” Sizhui said, cutting off whatever thought Jingyi was forming. “But the awakening process can have… side effects. Especially for people who died with regrets, or grudges-”

“I don’t care about anything that happened back then.” Xinyi interjected quickly. “I was a poor orphan that resorted to violence to survive, who glorified someone for showing me bare minimum kindness. None of that applies to my life now.”

Sizhui scanned his eyes over him, not looking entirely convinced. “You didn’t seem terribly indifferent when Xingchen tried to talk to you.”

Xinyi frowned at the name, breaking his eye contact with Sizhui. “I guess I have higher standards for how people treat me now. I’m thankful to you and Jingyi for helping me, but you’re not much different. You’re not looking out for me, you don’t even care that I’m a different person.”

Holding up his injured hand, he looked between Sizhui and Jingyi a few times before continuing. “You still remember I’m your student right? Wasn’t it your job to keep me safe? Everyone’s so worried that I might hurt other people, but no one batted an eye at the danger I was in around Song Lan.”

“I-... I’m sorry… You’re right.” Sizhui tilted his head down, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Jiaoshou. I’m going home. I’ll see you in class.”

Sizhui and Jingyi watched as Xinyi left, at a loss for what to say even to each other. The whole week had been spent worrying about Xue Yang’s return, just as Xinyi said, never once considering the possibility of Song Lan deviating. The two walked back to Sizhui’s car, not breaking the silence until the doors shut them inside. All at once, Sizhui’s emotions broke and he bent over the steering wheel in tears.

“A-Yuan, this isn’t your fault-”

“How is it not?” Sizhui asked, lifting his face. “I keep failing, time and time again! Every time I try to help, I just make things worse!”

“That’s not true.” Jingyi put a hand on Sizhui’s shoulder.

“Yes it is! You know it is, you know I was lying about Wen Chao. He didn’t try to redeem himself! I induced his awakening and he killed himself!” His whole body shook with sobs. “Because of my negligence, Wen Qing slaughtered an entire village. We haven’t seen Zizhen in thousands of years because of what I let happen! And now-!”

Jingyi grabbed the back of Sizhui’s shirt and pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms tight around the sobbing man. Stroking his hand over Sizhui’s hair, he let him cry into his shoulder until the sobs subsided into soft hiccups. He pulled back, wiped the tears from Sizhui’s face, and kissed him.

“Did you do those things alone?” Jingyi asked, looking into Sizhui’s eyes. “I was there with you. You did the best you could, but those were imperfect situations with imperfect outcomes. They likely would have happened whether we were there or not. It’s true, we didn’t handle Xinyi well, but we did the best we could under the circumstances.”

Sizhui let out a stuttered breath, stifling another wave of tears.

“A-Yuan. Xinyi’s upset, and rightfully so, but this is far from the worst scenario. No one died.”

“That’s a pretty shitty minimum standard.”

“Ok, well, just for that, you’re copying the Lan principles when we get home.” Jingyi said curtly, sitting back in his seat. “Using such vulgar language, I’m disappointed in you.”

Sizhui broke into laughter, putting his forehead to Jingyi’s shoulder for a moment before straightening up. Jingyi was right; they had all been prepared for the worst and, at the very least, no one died.

~X~

All the way back to Xinyi’s house, he could see the tension on Chen’s face while he drove. It wasn’t surprising to think he had some questions, or a million, about what happened, but Xinyi appreciated the silence for as long as he could. He was sure anything Chen wanted to ask didn’t have an easy answer. It gave Xinyi a small insight into Xiao Xingchen’s vow of silence with Song Lan, making it seem a little less crazy in retrospect.

The Wang residence was a good forty minute drive from the university, giving them both plenty of time to process their thoughts. Once they pulled off the highway, Chen turned the volume on the radio down, still silent for a while before actually speaking.

“Have you thought of what you’re going to say to your family when they see your hand?”

Xinyi looked down at it, resisting the urge to take off the bandages to survey the damage. “Not really. I’ve got some time though. My parents are never home this time of year and A-Zhou won’t notice.”

Chen let out a small laugh. “Right. Unless she grabs your hand.”

Xinyi winced at the thought. “I’ll just have to be careful.”

“What about your uncle?”

“I’ll just have to pray.”

The roads gave way to a pleasant suburban neighborhood, free of traffic as the hour grew later. The streetlights were just beginning to turn on, giving the area a dreamlike appearance.

“A-Xin…”

Xinyi turned his attention from the window to look at Chen.

“Should I even bother asking about what happened?” He asked, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“You saw just as much as I did, what-”

“You know what I mean. After QianHua and I were pushed out of the room. What actually happened.”

Xinyi looked down, clearing his throat anxiously. “Why do you think something weird happened…”

Chen’s jaw clenched. “I know you’re still recovering, but if we’re… whatever this is we’re doing… I need to know.”

“It’s really not important.” He replied, his gaze drifting to the sword at his feet. “I want to forget about it.”

The car pulled up in front of the Wang house, rolling to a stop on the side of the street. After a few silent beats, Chen reached his hand over to rest on Xinyi’s thigh. Looking up at the house, Xinyi felt a strange aversion to going inside.

“A-Xin… did something bad happen?”

Xinyi couldn’t help but laugh and hold his hand up. “No, of course not.”

Chen glowered at him, retracting his hand. “Please don’t do that.”

He put his hand down.

“What did you and Xingchen talk about?”

“Ah…” He looked at Chen, trying to find an answer to the question. “I mean. I basically just told him I didn’t want to see him again.”

“Basically?”

“Chen…” Xinyi sighed, putting a hand on JiangZai’s hilt. “I’m not trying to hide anything from you, but if I tell you the truth, you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Is that any different from usual?” Chen asked, moving his hand back to Xinyi’s leg. “You’ve always been weird. Your whole family is weird. Don’t you think I knew that when I started liking you?”

Xinyi turned his gaze to the man, looking at him for a long time, weighing the options. “...Fine. But it’s a long story.”

A small smile cracked across Chen’s face and they set to work collecting their belongings to go inside. The house was dark inside, giving no indication as to who was home. Testing the waters, Xinyi flipped a few lights on as they silently made their way through the rooms. Before long, the sound of footsteps came from upstairs. Xinyi held his breath, watching the stairs in anticipation of who would appear.

Slowly coming into view was a young girl, around sixteen, with short, spiky hair, and white eyes. Halfway down the stairs, she paused, listening with a suspicious expression on her face. Xinyi approached the stairs, keeping his movements as soundless as possible. Despite his efforts, her face immediately turned to where he stood.

“DaGe? Why are you home?” She demanded immediately.

Letting out his breath, Xinyi fell into a lighthearted laugh. “How has your hearing gotten so good?”

“You’re just loud!” She retorted, descending the stairs to hug him.

Xinyi wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the stairs and spinning around to set her back down. They stayed in a tight embrace for a few seconds before breaking apart, Xinyi moving carefully to avoid letting her touch the injured hand.

“Someone else is with you, right? Who’s here?” Zhou turned to Chen, reaching a hand out and feeling her way to his face. “Hey, you’re supposed to be on that field trip too!”

Chen pulled away, whipping his glasses off to clean her fingerprints from the lenses. “We got rained out, everyone came home early.”

“ZhouZhou, where’s Uncle? Is he home?”

“Yeah, downstairs.” Zhou replied, turning to face him again.

“We’re going up to my room, don’t tell him we’re here.”

Zhou nodded and the two climbed the stairs to Xinyi’s bedroom, closing the door behind them. Xinyi dumped his stuff onto the desk, letting the sword clatter onto the surface haphazardly, and threw himself onto the bed. Chen dropped his belongings onto the floor and climbed onto the bed beside Xinyi, patiently waiting for him to continue the conversation from the car. Slowly, Xinyi pulled his face from the blankets and looked at Chen.

“It’s been a long day, can’t we just go to bed-?”

“A-Xin.”

Xinyi frowned, pulling himself into a sitting position. “Let the record show, you bullied me into this.”

“Acknowledged. Now spill.”

Where to even begin? How much information did he actually have to give Chen? His actions as Xue Yang weren’t things to be proud of, but could he explain his relationship with Xingchen without it? He looked at Chen nervously, trying to collect his thoughts to put into words.

“Remember the lecture Song Lan gave about Cultivators?” Xinyi asked tentatively, studying Chen’s face.

“Yeah… It’s like the stories about your family’s antiques.”

“Exactly. Everyone thinks we made the stories up to gain attention for our collection. You did too, right?”

Chen opened his mouth with an incredulous expression, prepared to defend himself.

“Don’t look offended, I thought they were kinda bullshit too. The antiques are cool, but the stories sound fake.”

“Are you trying to get us off-topic?”

“No.” Xinyi paused, trying to think of what to say. “Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan aren’t just Taoist priests living in a temple for no reason. They’re Cultivators.”

“...Okay.”

“And they’re about eight thousand years old.”

“........Okay.”

Pausing again, Xinyi looked at Chen questioningly, waiting for the man to accuse him of joking around or lying or just plain sounding crazy.

“So are Sizhui and Jingyi Jiaoshou.”

Chen’s face scrunched slightly. “Are you being serious or are you just fucking with me?”

“I’m being serious. This is why I said you’d think I was crazy.”

“Alright… let’s say I do believe you…What does this have to do with what happened?”

“The reason you guys were told to leave was because…” He bit his lip, hesitating with his words. “They had to do something to make me remember my past life.”

The other man stared up at him blankly, the faintest hint of annoyance behind his eyes.

“Chen, really, I know this sounds stupid. Can we please just forget about it?”

“So…” Chen furrowed his brow, fussing with a stray string hanging from the blanket. “Sizhui and Jingyi Jiaoshou… and the two priests… are 8,000 year old ‘Cultivators’, who you knew in your past life? And they ‘did something’ to make you remember that… right after one of them attacked you…”

Xinyi’s heart was pounding in his chest, painfully skipping at Chen’s expression. Everything he’d just told the man sounded beyond ridiculous, there was no way in hell Chen could believe him. Any second, he’d storm out and never talk to Xinyi again.

“Pretty much…”

“What’d you do to piss off Song Lan that bad?”

“I uh… killed him. Xingchen too, technically…” He replied, surprised that Chen was even entertaining his bullshit anymore.

“I thought you said they were thousands of years old.”

“They’re reanimated corpses.”

Chen drew in a sharp breath, clenching his jaw again. Bringing his eyes up slowly, he looked past Xinyi to the sword resting on the desk behind him. Xinyi could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Chen…” Tentatively reaching a hand out, Xinyi touched his fingers to Chen’s knee. “I swear I’m not lying. You can call me crazy, you don’t have to believe anything I just said, but I swear I’m not lying-”

“I believe you.”

Xinyi’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes widening into a shocked stare.

“There were so many weird things about this trip, I don’t think I would’ve believed any normal explanation.” Chen finally met Xinyi’s eyes, still looking a little reserved. “It’s a lot to take in though.”

Whether from relief or sheer shock, Xinyi burst into laughter, falling onto his side. After a moment, Chen joined in, filling the room with their combined voices. When they both finally came to their senses and caught their breath, Xinyi shifted closer to Chen, wrapping his limbs around him into a tight embrace. Something about the other man actually believing him made the whole situation less ridiculous, relieving some of the insanity Xinyi had been feeling.

~X~

After more than a year of running on only a few hours of sleep a night, Xinyi’s body naturally woke sometime in the early morning. The room was still dark, the only sounds coming from the soft breathing of the man beside him. Careful not to wake Chen, Xinyi slipped out of the bed and felt his way to the door, pausing as his hand grazed over the sword on his desk. Taking several seconds to process what he was touching, he wrapped his fingers around it and carried it out of the room with him.

Promptly deciding he didn’t want JiangZai hanging around his room as a constant reminder, Xinyi descended into the basement to store the thing in the family vault. He punched in the code quickly and pulled the heavy door open, switching on the lights and pausing to let his eyes adjust. A small shiver ran down his spine, looking around the room with new eyes. The items within were no longer mysterious artifacts, but ancient Cultivating tools, some of which he recognized personally.

Walking slowly through the room, processing each item as he passed, Xinyi made his way to an empty set of shelves towards the back. Unsheathing the sword, he let his eyes scan over the blade, dwelling on the dissonance it brought, before sheathing and discarding it onto one of the shelves. Turning to leave, Xinyi was surprised to see a familiar face waiting behind him. Standing at the door was the unmistakable figure of his dear friend, Smiling Ghost.

“What are you still doing here?” He asked nonchalantly, taking his time in crossing the vault to where she was waiting.

She gave no reaction, patiently watching him as though they were old friends. Coming closer, Xinyi was able to make out more and more details of her face. She no longer wore the knowing smile that had unnerved him much before, looking at him instead with a soft, pleasant expression. A new familiarity settled in his mind as he looked at her, searching his memories for a name to place to the face.

“I know you…” He said quietly, mostly to himself.

Her lips twitched up into a smile, waiting for him to solve the riddle.

“Oh! I know you!” His voice rang out in a quiet triumph, but his features quickly changed to confusion. “But why are you…”

The memories of his last encounter returned to his mind, recalling the words she’d silently mouthed to him that day in the woods. Dawning realization quickly transformed into fearful urgency as her prior actions finally made sense.

“Oh no. Oh fuck.” Xinyi’s eyes widened, garnering a broad smile from his dear friend.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he retraced his steps to retrieve JiangZai before flying past Smiling Ghost, quickly climbing the stairs back up to his room. He flipped the lights on with no care for the man still sleeping in his bed and tossed open the closet door. Pulling on the first pair of pants and long-sleeved shirt he found, Xinyi re-emerged from the closet.

“A-Xin? What are you doing?” Chen asked, watching him with bleary eyes.

“I have to go.” He replied, slipping into a jacket and pressing a kiss to Chen’s cheek. “I’ll explain when I get back, I don’t have time right now.”

Before Chen could even form a thought to argue, Xinyi disappeared from the room again. Waiting by the front door, Smiling Ghost followed Xinyi out of the house and around to the garage. The first snowflakes of the season were starting to fall, making him hesitate for only a moment as he considered the consequences of the weather. One quick glance at Smiling Ghost was enough to chase away his concerns. Without another thought, Xinyi pulled on a helmet and mounted his bike, speeding down the road back to Leng Shuang WeiFeng Temple.

[aion-rsa]

Top New Horror Books in April 2021

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Where horror meets speculative fiction you’ll find inventive fears and chilling uncertainty. Here are some of the horror books we’re most excited about and/or are currently consuming…

Top New Horror Books in April 2021

Whisper Down the Lane by Clay Chapman

Type: Novel Publisher: Quirk Books Release date: April 6

Den of Geek says: A quasi-historical novel dissects memory and moral panic. What could be a flat story about mistrust has set itself apart with positive reviews praising both the fun and the terror.

Publisher’s summary: Inspired by the McMartin preschool trials and the Satanic Panic of the ‘80s, the critically acclaimed author of The Remaking delivers another pulse pounding, true-crime-based horror novel.

Richard doesn’t have a past. For him, there is only the present: a new marriage to Tamara, a first chance at fatherhood to her son Elijah, and a quiet but pleasant life as an art teacher at Elijah’s elementary school in Danvers, Virginia. Then the body of a rabbit, ritualistically murdered, appears on the school grounds with a birthday card for Richard tucked beneath it. Richard doesn’t have a birthday—but Sean does . . .

Sean is a five-year-old boy who has just moved to Greenfield, Virginia, with his mother. Like most mothers of the 1980s, she’s worried about bills, childcare, putting food on the table . . . and an encroaching threat to American life that can take the face of anyone: a politician, a friendly neighbor, or even a teacher. When Sean’s school sends a letter to the parents revealing that Sean’s favorite teacher is under investigation, a white lie from Sean lights a fire that engulfs the entire nation—and Sean and his mother are left holding the match.

Now, thirty years later, someone is here to remind Richard that they remember what Sean did. And though Sean doesn’t exist anymore, someone needs to pay the price for his lies.

Buy Whisper Down the Lane by Clay Chapman.

The Drowning Kind by Jennifer McMahon

Type: Novel Publisher: Gallery/Scout Press  Release date: April 6

Den of Geek says: You won’t want to go near a body of water for a while. Highly-praised author McMahon looks into the deep as an author one critic called a fitting heir to Shirley Jackson.

Publisher’s summary: When social worker Jax receives nine missed calls from her older sister, Lexie, she assumes that it’s just another one of her sister’s episodes. Manic and increasingly out of touch with reality, Lexie has pushed Jax away for over a year. But the next day, Lexie is dead: drowned in the pool at their grandmother’s estate. When Jax arrives at the house to go through her sister’s things, she learns that Lexie was researching the history of their family and the property. And as she dives deeper into the research herself, she discovers that the land holds a far darker past than she could have ever imagined.

In 1929, thirty-seven-year-old newlywed Ethel Monroe hopes desperately for a baby. In an effort to distract her, her husband whisks her away on a trip to Vermont, where a natural spring is showcased by the newest and most modern hotel in the Northeast. Once there, Ethel learns that the water is rumored to grant wishes, never suspecting that the spring takes in equal measure to what it gives.

A haunting, twisty, and compulsively readable thrill ride from the author who Chris Bohjalian has dubbed the “literary descendant of Shirley Jackson,” The Drowning Kind is a modern-day ghost story that illuminates how the past, though sometimes forgotten, is never really far behind us.

Buy The Drowning Kind by Jennifer McMahon.

Near the Bone by Christina Henry

Type: Novel Publisher: Berkley Release date: April 13

Den of Geek says: Isolation often makes for some good, character-focused horror (maybe this year in particular). A mix of human and monstrous violence haunts this mountain.

Publisher’s summary: Mattie can’t remember a time before she and William lived alone on a mountain together. She must never make him upset. But when Mattie discovers the mutilated body of a fox in the woods, she realizes that they’re not alone after all. 

There’s something in the woods that wasn’t there before, something that makes strange cries in the night, something with sharp teeth and claws. 

When three strangers appear on the mountaintop looking for the creature in the woods, Mattie knows their presence will anger William. Terrible things happen when William is angry.

Buy Near the Bone by Christina Henry.

Top New Horror Books in March 2021

Later by Stephen King

Type: Novel Publisher: Hard Case Crime Release date: March 2 Den of Geek says: Stephen King, author of The Stand, The Shining, and many more, needs no introduction. The top name in horror is sure to be the one everyone is talking about.

Publisher’s summary: The son of a struggling single mother, Jamie Conklin just wants an ordinary childhood. But Jamie is no ordinary child. Born with an unnatural ability his mom urges him to keep secret, Jamie can see what no one else can see and learn what no one else can learn. But the cost of using this ability is higher than Jamie can imagine – as he discovers when an NYPD detective draws him into the pursuit of a killer who has threatened to strike from beyond the grave. 

LATER is Stephen King at his finest, a terrifying and touching story of innocence lost and the trials that test our sense of right and wrong. With echoes of King’s classic novel It, LATER is a powerful, haunting, unforgettable exploration of what it takes to stand up to evil in all the faces it wears.

Buy Later by Stephen King.

The Second Bell by Gabriela Houston

Type: Novel Publisher: Angry Robot Release date: March 9 Den of Geek says: Horror meets legend in a different take on the werewolf. Author Gabriela Houston has been praised for her character work and mixture of grounded realism and chilling fantasy.

Publisher’s summary: To the world you are an abomination; a monster with unholy abilities. You’re shunned and left to fend for yourself. Your only chance of survival is to tap into that dark potential – would you do it?

In an isolated mountain community, sometimes a child is born with two hearts. Such a child – a striga – is considered a dangerous demon, which must be abandoned on the edge of the forest to protect the community. The only choice the child’s mother can make is whether to leave her home with her infant, or stay behind and try to forget.

Miriat made her choice. She and her nineteen-year-old striga daughter, Salka, now live a life of deprivation and hardship in a remote village, where to follow the impulses of the other heart is forbidden.

But Salka is headstrong and young, and when threatened with losing everything, she is forced to explore the depths of her true nature, testing the bonds between mother and child.

The Second Bell by Gabriela Houston.

Our Last Echoes by Kate Alice Marshall

Type: Novel Publisher: Viking Books for Young Readers Release date: March 16

Den of Geek says: This YA pick reminds us pleasantly of Twin Peaks or Alan Wake. A spooky setting and a protagonist with a strong hook to its location promises a tightly constructed story.

Publisher’s summary: In 1973, the thirty-one residents of Bitter Rock disappeared. In 2003, so did my mother. Now, I’ve come to Bitter Rock to find out what happened to her–and to me. Because Bitter Rock has many ghosts. And I might be one of them.

Sophia’s earliest memory is of drowning. She remembers the darkness of the water and the briny taste as it filled her throat, the sensation of going under. She remembers hands pulling her back to safety, but that memory is impossible–she’s never been to the ocean. 

But then Sophia gets a mysterious call about an island names Bitter Rock, and learns that she and her mother were there fifteen years ago–and her mother never returned. The hunt for answers lures her to Bitter Rock, but the more she uncovers, the clearer it is that her mother is just one in a chain of disappearances. 

People have been vanishing from Bitter Rock for decades, leaving only their ghostly echoes behind. Sophia is the only one who can break the cycle–or risk becoming nothing more than another echo haunting the island.

Buy Our Last Echoes by Kate Alice Marshall.

Top New Horror Books in February 2021

The Burning Girls by C.J. Tudor

Type: Novel Publisher: Ballantine Books Release date: Feb. 9 Den of Geek says: A spooky thriller set in a small village promises ghostly visitations and weird happenings that a single mother and her daughter need to investigate. Evil lurking in churches and exorcisms are a horror staple, but the historical grounding here gives it a unique texture. Publisher’s summary: A dark history lingers in Chapel Croft. Five hundred years ago, Protestant martyrs were betrayed—then burned. Thirty years ago, two teenage girls disappeared without a trace. And a few weeks ago, the vicar of the local parish hanged himself in the nave of the church.

Reverend Jack Brooks, a single parent with a fourteen-year-old daughter and a heavy conscience, arrives in the village hoping for a fresh start. Instead, Jack finds a town rife with conspiracies and secrets, and is greeted with a strange welcome package: an exorcism kit and a note that warns, “But there is nothing covered up that will not be revealed and hidden that will not be known.”

The more Jack and daughter, Flo, explore the town and get to know its strange denizens, the deeper they are drawn into the age-old rifts, mysteries, and suspicions. And when Flo begins to see specters of girls ablaze, it becomes apparent there are ghosts here that refuse to be laid to rest.

Uncovering the truth can be deadly in a village with a bloody past, where everyone has something to hide and no one trusts an outsider.

Buy The Burning Girls by C.J. Tudor.

What Big Teeth by Rose Szabo

Type: Novel Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux Release date: Feb. 2 Den of Geek says: Fans of the human side of werewolves or the everyday life of the Addams Family may like this story of a student returning home to a strange place after a taste of the outside world. Written for a YA market, but the inventive concept means it has crossover appeal. Publisher’s summary: Eleanor Zarrin has been estranged from her wild family for years. When she flees boarding school after a horrifying incident, she goes to the only place she thinks is safe: the home she left behind. But when she gets there, she struggles to fit in with her monstrous relatives, who prowl the woods around the family estate and read fortunes in the guts of birds.

Eleanor finds herself desperately trying to hold the family together―in order to save them all, Eleanor must learn to embrace her family of monsters and tame the darkness inside her.

Buy What Big Teeth by Rose Szabo.

Never Have I Ever by Isabel Yap

Type: Short story collection Publisher: Small Beer Press Release date: Feb. 23 Den of Geek says: At Den of Geek we’re always looking for horror that mixes with science fiction and fantasy. Isabel Yap does exactly that. A well-established writer with short stories in genre pillars like Tor.com, Lightspeed, and Strange Horizons, her stories are vivid and unsettling. She’s garnered praise from authors including Tamsyn Muir. Publisher’s summary: “Am I dead?” Mebuyen sighs. She was hoping the girl would not ask. Spells and stories, urban legends and immigrant tales: the magic in Isabel Yap’s debut collection jumps right off the page, from the joy in her new novella, “A Spell for Foolish Hearts” to the terrifying tension of the urban legend “Have You Heard the One About Anamaria Marquez.”

Buy Never Have I Ever by Isabel Yap.

Top New Horror Books in January 2021

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In the Garden of Spite by Camilla Bruce

Type: Novel Publisher: Berkley Release date: Jan. 19

Den of Geek says: This novel for fans of the line where true crime meets horror follows Belle Gunness, a real life serial killer. This looks like a darkly fascinating portrait of a wicked and deadly woman, showing how the “Widow of La Porte” clawed her way through history, leaving victims in her wake. Publisher’s summary: They whisper about her in Chicago. Men come to her with their hopes, their dreams–their fortunes. But no one sees them leave. No one sees them at all after they come to call on the Widow of La Porte.

The good people of Indiana may have their suspicions, but if those fools knew what she’d given up, what was taken from her, how she’d suffered, surely they’d understand. Belle Gunness learned a long time ago that a woman has to make her own way in this world. That’s all it is. A bloody means to an end. A glorious enterprise meant to raise her from the bleak, colorless drudgery of her childhood to the life she deserves. After all, vermin always survive.

Buy In the Garden of Spite by Camilla Bruce.

In Darkness, Shadows Breathe by Catherine Cavendish

Type: Novel Publisher: Flame Tree Press Release date: Jan. 19

Den of Geek says: Intentionally disorienting fiction can be hit or miss, but in this case it sounds like the non-linear storytelling adds to the intended feeling of a nightmare. Old-fashioned Gothic horror fans with a taste for dark fantasy might enjoy this one. Publisher’s summary: In a luxury apartment and in the walls of a modern hospital, the evil that was done continues to thrive. They are in the hands of an entity that knows no boundaries and crosses dimensions – bending and twisting time itself – and where danger waits in every shadow. The battle is on for their bodies and souls and the line between reality and nightmare is hard to define. Through it all, the words of Lydia Warren Carmody haunt them. But who was she? And why have Carol and Nessa been chosen?

The answer lies deep in the darkness… 

Buy In Darkness, Shadows Breathe by Catherine Cavendish.

A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson

Type: Novel Publisher: Nyx Publishing Release date: Jan. 31

Den of Geek says: Dracula retellings are common, as are takes on the famous vampire’s wives. This one sets itself apart by focusing on a relationship between the wives themselves, coloring in the classic story with what the author calls “sapphic yearning at the opera.” Publisher’s summary: Saved from the brink of death by a mysterious stranger, Constanta is transformed from a medieval peasant into a bride fit for an undying king. But when Dracula draws a cunning aristocrat and a starving artist into his web of passion and deceit, Constanta realizes that her beloved is capable of terrible things. Finding comfort in the arms of her rival consorts, she begins to unravel their husband’s dark secrets.

With the lives of everyone she loves on the line, Constanta will have to choose between her own freedom and her love for her husband. But bonds forged by blood can only be broken by death.

Buy A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson.

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[talkingsong]

It really do be like that sometimes.

I watched a memes video before this reading I’m sorry

They say astrology is the map of your life- everything that occurs within it can be explained by the stars. Today, July 25th, 2019, I’ve channeled messages for each zodiac sign. To read yours, simply scroll down, find your sun, moon, or rising sign, and read. Even if it isn’t July 25th when you read this, whatever message you see is the message designed especially for you, however the timing ends up working out.

ARIES

Don’t feel guilty for having the things that you have. Gratitude is a debt repaid for the gifts that you’ve received- if you didn’t deserve them, then you wouldn’t have gotten them. I feel like you guys have finally manifested what you want (or part of what you want) and that it has to do with physical items and material things, mostly. Get over your feeling that you getting what you want is unfair to others. Your ego is getting in the way. You’ve been communicating with the universe and it has been communicating with you- there is a current equal give and exchange between you and the universe. Cherish it in a self-less way. Find beauty in the connection rather than the fact that it’s YOU connecting with IT, if that makes sense. 

TAURUS

Let go of your dependency on yourself. You will get much further if you allow other people into your plan and partner up to get things done. Rest when you’re alone- but understand that work is when you're with others. Achieve this balance and your bright future is already manifested. 

Also, don’t oversmother your projects. Your progress is like taking care of a plant- water it once, leave it in direct sunlight for two hours twice a week. Sunlight is your attention. Water is the emotion and thought and intention that you put into your projects. Don’t drown the plant in either. 

GEMINI

C’mon Geminis, you big, lumpy blobs of confusion and inner conflict. Your guides are pushing you to actually communicate with someone. Open up! Tell them what’s wrong! Even if you don’t want them to know or even if it’s hard, you need to in order to move forwards in your life. If someone asks you how you’re feeling, don’t just answer “fine.” If someone asks you what’s wrong, don’t just say “I’m tired.” Your partner or your friends or family have noticed that you aren’t as present as you usually are and you need to give them a reason, please and thank you.

Your guides are also pushing you to do something that they’re saying they’ve been telling you to do for a while now and you’re not doing it. They’re sending a gentle but firm reminder to get your ass in gear and start doing what you’re meant to. Gët gôīńg.

CANCER

This is about romance for some of you. Your guides are saying choose from the heart! Your logic marks the stepping stones for you to take your dreams into reality. So know that things are about to start moving really really fast and the things that you’ve been wanting are coming up quickly, don’t be stuck in that beginners energy. Pick the path you wanna go down, know that you can change it if you want down the line, but pick decisively and head down it! For those of you wondering: Yes, this man is the one that you’re meant to start a relationship with at this time. Have fun you two! Ahh.... use protection, I guess!

LEO

Add more humor into your life, dude. I understand that there’s a shit ton of energy going on here and you're thinking about a lot, but make room for some joking around, yeah? You’re in the process of finding what it is that you truly believe. And you’re starting to find what you want to protect and defend in your life going forward. I see you becoming an activist for something important to you, something that you’ve experienced at some point in your life that effected you strongly. It’s your time to follow a higher path and understand what that whole experience really was about. There’s a quote here that I’ll hope helps you, because I don’t really have much else to say considering this is more of a journey for the individual-

 “Basically, we are all responsible for the preservation of our personal joy; but happiness is different. Joy is not circumstantial, happiness is. You can be depressed and still have joy. You can be suicidal and still have joy. We all stop thinking and we all stop talking and we all stop sharing and we all stop creating, because by doing any of these things we quickly find out just how unhappy we are. But that's okay. That's normal. Don't let the fear of unhappiness cripple your pursuit of finding what it is you believe. Since joy is found in belief, we all have to push through unhappiness to find joy. Basically.” ― Tyler Joseph

Hope this helps.

VIRGO

Ayyyyy, Virgos! Y’all are my people. I mean, I’m not a virgo, but like.... We get each other, y’know? Anyways-

I feel like you’re starting to call in more of your tribe. You’re attracting more friends and people into your life that actually love and care about you and build you up, and vice versa. I feel like you’re getting more genuine connection with your own intuition and emotion and spirituality as well. Continue on your path trusting yourself and those around you completely, and success is basically guaranteed. 

LIBRA

Don’t overanalyze the options, you have a better choice. You need to confront whatever problem or issue that you’ve been avoiding, because you ignoring it is blocking you and your progress. To turn this around, make sure to stop procrastinating and just make a decision already. 77 might be an important number to you, or angel number 877.

SCORPIO

In the past you’ve been through a lot, especially with friend groups and drama, and because of it you’ve transformed into a more beautiful person. You now have the experience needed to plan your future accordingly because of what happened in the past and what you’ve learned from it. Trust yourself and stay devoted to the future you! Go ahead and get involved in any creative endevours that you’ve been thinking about taking and listen to your advice from your inspiration and your heart. You go, girl. 

SAGGITARIUS

I feel like you’ve just completed some cycle or battle of sorts, and are currently in the limbo waiting period for something else to happen. I want you to know that all of the fear and the worry that you feel about the future is not something that you should be focused on. It’s distracting you from the magical opportunities coming your way and you need to redirect your attention to something more positive with the mindset of, “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” Let your intuition and faith guide you along your journey to the next stage in your life. I can assure you that more opportunities and more amazing things than you realize are waiting for you on the other side. Keep you head held high, my friend. 

CAPRICORN

There’s unfairness in some aspect of your life, and you’re being called to balance out what you feel isn’t right. Let go of things that aren’t serving you- moreover, let go of things where you aren’t serving anyone else, including yourself. You need to start taking new things and new changes into consideration with little regard of a comfort zone. You’ve been recently stuck in your judgements and your old ways of thinking, and it’s time that you break free. No rush, though- your guides are only asking you to gently bring your attention to the unfairness in your life currently, and to take action as you see fit.

AQUARIUS

You’re getting your universal rewards, babyyyyy. As far as internally, you’ve manifested your own happiness in the form of hope, optimism, faith, empowerment, relief, growth, healing, yada yada. Externally you’re recieving job offers and new cars and travel and basically just all that good shit that you’ve been working on manifesting, my friend. This is your reward for being so dedicated and hardworking, especially through sticking with things even when times get tough. Out of all the groups, you guys have an extremely good week, month, year ahead of you. Take care!

PISCES

Okay, so I’m going to start this off by saying that I feel for most if not all of you, this message has something to do with your identity. Specifically for some, gender identity, especially if you’re transitioning to being female. I feel like you’ve had powerful epiphanies about who you are and what you’re to do from having terrible, ten-of-swords type experiences in the past. With the growth that you’re having, you're starting to understand the truth of your situation and changing your perspective on everything that you went through in the past, and I feel like you’re finally starting to feel liberated and powerful enough to take action. There’s such a powerful energy here for you, Pisces, and everything around you is changing. Everything you touch turns to gold. You’re growing wings. I can’t communicate how powerful this growth energy is. I feel that it all sprouted from alone time- taking a night to sit and think of things that you haven’t thought about in a while and address and finally confront the things that you feel threatened by- or, by confronting hidden subconscious feelings that you didn’t even know you had. You’re embracing your femininity, your water side, your intuition and the deeper depths of your body, mind and soul. I’m just hearing, “you know where to go now.” 

It’s like you’re in control now of the waves that used to drag you down, and you’re re-crowning yourself as the master of the sea, a title you rightfully deserve. 

My point is, you’ve learned so many lessons from this and you’ve been undergoing so many growth-spurts- you get to choose what to do with the power you possess. Choose wisely, Pisces. You can’t make a wrong choice. 

Blessings. 

[herpowerisdeath]

Affected { Nessian Fanfic }

Summary: Nesta decided that the time for her to learn how to defend herself has come and passed, but Feyre seems restless in her “invitations”, so, one day, just to shut her youngest sister's mouth, she agrees.

This history is part of “The Blue-gray Fire”. Check for other works here.

Check here for more ACOTAR fanfics. 

I.

The mirror’s reflection would make her shudder, if she was willing to show any body reaction.

Nesta was using pants for the first time in her life -- dark, tight and reinforced on the knees with leather. It was Feyre’s, of course. Her sister had borrowed her a pair of training clothes almost two weeks ago, after their last arguing about how Nesta was dealing with her own abilities after the war.

“I said no.” Nesta’s voice was like a whip, cutting its way thru the air around them.

“I heard you from the first time, and the second, and the th--.” Feyre answered, just one step behind, keeping Nesta from avoiding it again.

“Stop following me like a starved dog.” She hissed, trying hard to not increase the rhythm of her steps.

“Then give me a good reason.” The youngest fae raised her index finger, going around Nesta to stop her. “One, and I’ll never ask again.”

Feyre’s eyes were burning with the untamed dare. The same eyes as her own, the same eyes as their mother. She knew that her own eyes were pale blue flames now, her heart racing with the challenge. And then, just as a cold winter wind, it was all wiped away, the warm emotions living her core, her critical and rational mind taking over.

She turned to the other side, dismissing Feyre completely, and restarted walking.

“Tell me when you quit hiding.” 

And that was it, that single line made her column straightened, her nails digging into her palms with strength enough to hurt as she stormed in the direction of her room.

Nesta blinked, trying to get used with the reflection, with the feeling of the tissue touching her legs. Should it look like this? 

The only women she saw dressing it were Feyre, Morrigan and Amren and the illyrian outfits had looked different in any of them. Feyre’s was tight, but not much, Morrigan’s was like a second skin, much like the boys’, Amren looked like a child’s suit, which she supposed it was, even if no one mentioned.

Feyre’s clothes were a little big on her body, she decided after a detailed examination. Her slim legs didn’t have muscles enough to stretch the material, but at least they were the same waist and hip size.

Nesta rolled up the sleeves of the matching shirt, folding them past her elbows. The tissue was slightly transparent, just enough to give a light sensation and allow her skin to breathe under it. You will be sweating like a farm worker, her mind remembered with a disgusted noise.

And, if she stayed one minute more standing there, she would have done a great job in convincing herself to dismiss Feyre entirely. But she wasn’t hiding, she would never hide again from her sisters, not when they needed something, not when they wanted something. Never again.

II.

Nesta has always been silent, a whisper of steel and flame, contained, controlled, and her steps matched it. The fae grace had shaped her walking in something barely audible, unless she wanted to be heard -- which was definitely not the case.

It wasn’t hard to find the right spot, the sound of laughs reached her down stairs and ended before she finished going up. Small crashing sounds followed and she hurried just a little, without even notice the worry running in her veins.

Feyre’s back was turned to her, her once skinny body now detailed with slim muscles. She saw her sister’s hair braided tight, flying as she threw a sequence of punches -- right in Cassian’s covered hands. 

Why isn’t he wearing a shirt? The first thought in Nesta’s mind revealed how much she had absorbed in a few seconds. His long hair was wrapped with his usual strand of leather, or most of it -- a few threads had escaped and now clinged to his sweat-damp face. His controlled breath smashed into her as a wave, his heartbeat overloading her fae hearing. The lines of sweat that started at his neck followed a path down the dark hair on his chest, lower and lower until the waistband of his training  trousers.

Immediately, she stopped her gaze, a stone-cold mask taking over her features. After the battle with Hybern, she has been… How could she say? Sensitive, yes, sensitive to his presence, which, of course, bothers her to no end.

“What the hell, Feyre?!” Cassian complained, recoiling his hands, surprised with the sudden punch.

A tug in her lips threatened to form a smirk when she noticed that he had been distracted by her presence alone. Feyre turned, following Cassian’s forceful gaze. The smile in the other’s face was brighter than the golden light of the sun, casting its warmth in the roof, when she spotted Nesta.

Feyre moved forward, for sure to include Nesta right away in whatever she was doing, but the elder sister rose a polite hand to stop her. 

“I’ll observe for a while.” Showing certain in each step, she found her way to a long chair, propping her elbows in her knees to give Feyre - and Cassian - her full attention. 

She thought she saw her sister giving little excited jumps in her way back.

III.

Even if she wouldn’t admit, she enjoyed her accurate senses and was glad, at some point, for being able to see all their quick movements, catch the glimpses of change,  watch the light dancing in their wings when Cassian tried over and over to explain how the balance of Feyre’s body should be changed to use the wings in their full strength and power.

Feyre was positively terrible. She kept committing the same mistakes and her left wing could do everything faster than her right wing. 

It was beautiful, though, and it suited her well. Feyre has never been a creature of small vision, her dreams were higher than Nesta’s, she has known it since the day Feyre painted the night sky. One day she would fly thru it -- except  that it would be figuratively and not with real wings.

Her sister spreaded her dark wings, mimicking Cassian’s moves. He folded one wing as he punched forward, using the move to push him stronger. He did it with ease, repeating with the other side of his body to show himself, apparently. 

Nesta shifted, rolling her eyes, but keeping herself silent. She was trying to show some sort of approval, trust or whatever in Feyre’s abilities, she was trying to look like she believed wholly in the potential of her little sister. 

When Feyre fell face first, she was also trying to avoid the amusement in her eyes.

“Shit.” Feyre complained, rubbing her sore nose, following to rub her forehead.

Cassian’s laughter was still echoing when he offered a hand to help her out. 

“I think it’s enough of punching while having wings for today, I don’t want Az complaining that I’m stealing his job. Or Rhys complaining that I’m ruining his nights because you’re sore all over.” A sensual smirk appeared in Cassian’s lips and she watched her sister punch his arm, tired. He pretended it hurt anyways.

“Nesta could join us for the last part, I think.” Feyre suggested, her eyes big with the request.

“Yeah, Ness, unless you’re enjoying the view too much.” To prove his point, all the muscles in Cassian’s abdomen contracted, showing with more details his heavy worked out body, only cut by his war scars.

She snorted, raising to her feet and walking past him to stand next to Feyre. If the fae was willing to acknowledge, she would notice the change in her breathing, but she stood with an unbothered calm even while his eyes drank the view of her in those tight clothes.

Feyre’s eyebrows got up twice before Cassian retrieved the ability of speaking properly.

“10 push-ups, let’s see if you can lift anything heavier than a shoe.” 

He was staring right into her eyes when he said it, the muscles in his body shifting not with a rational command, but in response to the rage she now showed in her blue-gray eyes. He didn’t get to give her orders like this, who the hell he thinks --

“C’mon, Nesta. I’ll show you how.” Her sister’s hand was in hers after that, keeping her from bark an answer.

She followed Feyre’s lead, placing her arms in the right position and thanking for the leather reinforcing the tissue covering her knees. The first push-up had her going too low, and her flat belly almost touched the floor.

“Not so low.” Feyre whispered, already up again, with her arms straight.

Nesta had to reunite a great amount of force of will to raise her body, and then, down again. She could feel the pressure inside her ears as she forced herself up. Her arms started to tremble in the third push-up.

“You need to contract your core muscles or you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Cassian’s voice sounded very close to her. She could see his booted feet in her line of vision.

If she wasn’t so focused in not to fall, she would have grunted. But she did as she was told anyway, she was goddamn here already. 

Nesta was trying to contract everything, from her neck to her thighs. 

“Breath. In when you’re going up, out when you’re going down.”

How he even knew that she was running out of breath? Her focus had been completely in the strength.

When the eighth push-up came, she decided that it was a terrible idea. The war was over, they won, she had no reason to be here, sweating for nothing. But then she recalled how the things happened, how different it could have been if she mastered her powers, if she knew how to use the right weapons.

It made her go up again, exhaling the air so hard that it made a noise. She dared to look a little to her side as she lowered, very tempted to rest her head in the cold floor. Feyre was waiting for her, holding herself down in the way Nesta should be doing, the right way. Her sister's smile was still there, almost nudging her to the last push-up.

You’re not some weak lady, Nesta. Up, now! The order she gave  herself made her seem ridiculous, but at least her arms brought her up again, trembling terribly, almost giving up.

When she lowered herself, half falling in the floor, her decorum was gone. She rested her face for one entire minute in the cold rock of the floor before caring with anyone else. Her arms were aching and she could swear some weird substance was running in her veins, making her feel some sort of well even with the pain.

The next things were easier, or her body was now heated enough to not feel like one step from dying all the time. She discovered that she could run for a small period and she was good at stretching. In anything else, pretty much a disaster.

When the ‘last part’, as Feyre called, ended, her shirt was clinging to the sweat in her skin and she was thankful for wearing a bra. To her relief, Feyre looked just as wrecked. She wouldn’t give a single thought to the fact that Cassian still looked marvelous.

“Tomorrow, right after Feyre’s training. You better bring a towel, sweetheart.” His voice came from deep in his chest.

IV.

In the next day, Nesta was nowhere to be seen in the town house. She had spent the whole night mind-complaining about the soreness in her limbs. 

Amren’s place sounded like a great choice and she was already there right after breakfast, bringing the books and notes she had been reading. Never existed, in the long history of the fae world, someone like Amren, so they had been searching for similarities, anything to help in the discovery of which powers and tricks the older creature possessed.

It was also a good thing for her own. 

So far, Nesta had learned little about what she stole from the Cauldron, but she had finally being able to see her own mental shields in its complexity. They were not dark and hideous as she feared they would be; indeed, Nesta’s mental shields were made of steel, no a solid mass, but huge pieces of silvery steel, connected by rivers of white light, the same light that had appeared when they faced the king.

She was also able to create fire, a blue-ish flame, different of her sister’s and Beron’s own flames. It could burn all the same, though no smoke came from it and the touch was as freezing as death. She thought that she maybe would be strong enough to winnow, but wasn’t exactly eager to start a new potential failure.

They searched in the books all day, with many pauses to eat and to train their mental shields. Amren wasn’t solid, but a silver-grey smoke that repelled any of Nesta’s tries.

When she was mentally exhausted enough - and before Amren could decide to throw her out of the loft - she found her way to the town house, where a small bottle and a note were waiting for her in her bedroom's door.

“I should have known you would be sore, drink up, I’m flying you at 10am tomorrow.

Cassian.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the sloppy handwriting, but she drank it without a second thought.

V.

Whatever that drink was, it made all her limbs relax, even the tension in her back softened until she could barely feel it anymore. She slept a remarkably wonderful, dreamless sleep and only came back to consciousness when the warm sunlight touched her face.

She mumbled, too relaxed to think straight, turning to the other side to avoid the clarity.

The sheets’ touch in her skin and the comfy pillow almost dragged right back to that nice place in her mind, almost. 

Some rational, annoying part of Nesta’s mind noticed that the sunlight wasn’t supposed to reach her bed in the early hours of morning and that was the reason why her curtains were always open -- by the time the sun started to cast its light inside, she would be completely awake and doing something useful with her morning.

One of her eyes opened - the one which wasn’t buried in the pillow - and she needed a minute to absorb the brightness, the golden glow turning her clear walls in pure light.

It took about five minutes after that to have her leaving her room, right to the kitchen. She had showered as quickly as possible, dressed in the new training clothes that Nuala or Cerridwen or both had brought her, and wrapped her hair in a very messy bun. She hated to be late and hated even more to do things in a rush, not to have time to prepare herself for the next events, to raise her walls to endure the day.

One of the wraiths, Nesta guessed it was Cerridwen for the way she held the plates, had already settled a few breakfast options and the blonde sat graciously.

She choose three blueberry cupcakes and some juice she didn’t know. Apparently, there were many things in the food department that she didn’t know.

“Can I fix your hair while you eat, my lady?” The maid’s voice was a whisper of darkness, quiet and charming. 

“Yes, I would like to.” Nesta answered after swallowing a piece of her cupcake. 

One day, she would thank the maid for it, for the help. She was working on it, because, according to Elain, it was important to be thankful and Nesta was trying to be better to her sisters, or the best she could be considering her personality.

Training for Feyre, thanks for Elain. She repeated in her mind. Learn about faes to help Amren. She remembered to add, because she had connected with Amren somehow.

Nesta was finishing her second cupcake when she heard the known sound of wings cutting the air, followed by a low noise when they landed in the front porch. 

Something eased in her insides, maybe part of her expected that he wouldn’t show up, that she would dress those stupid pants and let Cerridwen wrap her hair for nothing. And, maybe, the other part felt like an elastic loosing, as if some invisible thread had curled inside all of her muscles and been kept taut from yesterday until now.

Feyre strode inside, her hair a complete mess after training and flying and she sat down in front of Nesta with the same lack as finesse as always. It was involuntary to look for wounds, her eyes scanning her sister’s body in a quick inspection.

“I like your new training clothes.” Feyre offered, finding a glass to fill with juice.

Nesta nodded, it hasn’t been her choice, but she supposed it fit better than Feyre’s borrowed one. Slowly, her hand pushed her own plate in Feyre’s direction, so she could have the last cupcake -- her sister always liked blueberries.

After, Nesta grabbed the towel Cerridwen had left waiting for her and walked to the living room.

The sensation of him came before his form appeared, a weird lightness, as if something wasn’t heavier anymore, as if her own body was nothing more than an extension of something. 

He turned to her in the precise moment she stepped in, his bourbon eyes finding hers and she ignored how her lungs found hard to maintain a rhythm. Cassian was finally wearing a shirt, a sleeveless brown shirt, followed by a pair of loose clear pants. They were covered in dirt already, probably courtesy of her sister. 

His feet were bare and there was something about the vulnerability of it, about the unshielded position he stood. He wasn’t ready to a fight, as he always looked to be before, he was… Exposed.

Nesta’s eyes finally met his again and what she saw made every part of her go taut and loose at the same time. His pupils were so blown that they devoured his irises, his mouth was parted and a ragged breath was literally audible. She became extremely aware that he wasn’t looking to her eyes, at least, not only to her eyes. 

His gaze travelled up and down her body, each curve, each exposed part of pale skin and it made her more self-conscious than she thought was possible and it burned. Every spot his eyes landed burned with an urge that she never understood.

The training clothes she was using revealed more than any other thing she dressed in her life -- a pair of elastic pants, high on her waist and down to her calves and a tank top which gave much more support to her breasts. They were some color between night blue and purple, a color she has never seen in a tissue out of Prytian. She hadn’t imagined that it wouldn't be adequate, Feyre had used many similar clothes, but now…

She covered the part of her belly exposed between the tank top and the pants, not more than three fingers uncovered and it made Cassian regain some sanity again. His hands were still in his sides, clenching and unclenching as if they were too far from her body. It made Nesta’s own hands feel empty, even holding the towel. 

“You --” He started, the voice too rough, stuck in his throat. Cassian coughed once. “I’m gonna take you to train.” 

Nesta nodded, controlling with an iron hand her own breathing, not willing to even acknowledge the blush creeping to her face and neck, the heat pushing under her skin. Gripping the towel tight, she headed to the door, his steps following her close.

VI.

Luckily, she had years and years to master her self-control and even after more than one hour of intense practice, the parts of her body he touched were still over-sensitive, and he had been very careful to keep her close to his body while flying, to make sure to protect her from the cold wind, of course.

“I’m gonna touch you.” His voice came from her back and Nesta’s sweaty body trembled. 

Because of the effort. She immediately explained to herself mentally.

They were trying some experimental defense moves, more like how she should stand and where to put more weight. At least she was doing something calm after the running, the push-ups, the abs working, the squats and lunges and whatever those things were called.

His warmth was already too much before he even reached for her, but when his arm curled around her waist, his hand spreaded over her belly, her rational thoughts left her at once, his fingertips touching the both parts of her clothes and all the bare skin in the middle. It was intimate, far more intimate than see him half naked, far more overwhelming.

She became so still that even the up and down of her chest created too much movement. 

Cassian moved slowly, his body inches apart of her, his hand the only point of contact when he leaned in to talk to her. 

“Let’s try some punches, you need to focus the tension right here.” She had never heard his commander's voice from close, but she guessed that was it, the voice he was using with her right now, what was keeping him from echoing the throaty sound he let scape in the town house.

“How?” Nesta asked quickly, not daring to say too much.

But why was she bothering? She shouldn’t be affected for it, for him, no, not at all. Sensitive, yes, but affected? A wave of coldness tried to push the warm feeling away, her mind starting to work thru all this, thru her momentary lack of control.

If he felt it or not, she couldn’t be sure, but Cassian’s fingers digged into her bare skin just a little bit, calling her attention again, keeping it in the moment and not in the many reasons she could find -- that she would find -- to keep herself in a safe zone. 

“Choose a target point and contract your core, feel your muscles working together.” 

She did, trying to keep her breath steady, to focus in her muscles. Paying attention to her own body in that way wasn’t an easy task, Nesta was already too used to her known masks and postures. This was way too new.

“Now, punch.” He commanded, sure of his own body and voice. 

Her right arm followed his command without hesitation, feeling the stretch in her forearm, the clench of her fist. 

He moved, slowly guiding himself to her left side, his other hand finding place in her back. 

“Let the air leave your lungs when you punch, keep your balance. Again.”

Nesta did it many times more, throwing her fist in front, her spine steady by his hands, the sweet pressure Cassian kept when she should contract her muscles and the small release he allowed when she should breath in. Her mind counted twenty repetitions before he moved to her other side, his hands following around her waist without retreat one single inch. 

“Your left side now.” 

It took twenty more for his hands to leave her. 

Cassian walked away only three steps, standing in front of her to offer a real target, his hands up for her to punch as much as she wanted, but his face called her attention immediately and she couldn’t decide what burned more -- his sure hands touching her body or his lustful eyes freeing her mind. 

And Nesta caught herself wondering, hours after he flew them back to the town house, if his mouth would burn the most. 

[katehuntington]

Title: All I Want - part two Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Pairing: Dean x Reader Series summary: Sam and Dean come across an object that could be the solution to Michael. The Pearl of Baozhu grants the beholder’s deepest desire. Once Dean focuses on his wish, the archangel remains caged in his mind however. Instead his former girlfriend Y/N shows up, who was killed in 2010 in Detroit, by no other than Lucifer himself. Summary part two: After another horrific nightmare, Dean joins his brother in search for an answer to take down Michael. They strike gold when they find the Baozhu, but Dean’s wish doesn’t ban the Archangel from his mind. Instead he reunites with the one person he never thought he’d see again. Warnings part two: NSFW, 18+ only. Spoilers season 14 episode 13. Angst, fluff-ish. Nightmares, descriptions of flashbacks, mentions of major character death, anxiety, grieving over lost loved one, swearing, alcohol consumption. All the tears. Word Count: 4019 words Author’s note: Part two of a multi part miniseries, based on the 300th episode “Lebanon”. Prepare for major angst, heartwarming reunions and heartbreaking goodbyes. Beta’d by the lovely @kittenofdoomage​ and @coffee-obsessed-writer​, thank you so much for your feedback!

All I Want Masterlist

February 7th, 2019 Lebanon, Kansas

    A rigid gasp for air ends Dean’s tormenting dream. He bolts up in bed, sheets and yesterday’s clothes clinging to the cold sweat that covers every square inch of his skin. His heart is racing as if he just ran up ten flights of stairs, shivers wrecking his body. Eyes wide open he stares at the opposite wall, trying to calm himself by focusing on his breathing. It’s not real, Dean. Not yet. Not now.

    The splitting headache that has haunted him ever since he locked Michael in that coolcell far in the back of his mind, pushes itself to the front, pounding behind his eyes in the rhythm of the archangel’s fists on the door. The hunter breathes in deeply and exhales, letting the air flow from his lips. He’s not in the box, he’s not drowning like he was a second ago, and although he knows it is written in Billie’s book that this will be how he will meet his end, he has to hold on to the present. Dean sighs and closes his eyes. I’m in control.

    A knock on furnished wood draws his gaze towards his bedroom door, finding the tall silhouet of his brother, carefully pushing it open. Faint yellow light from the hallway reaches into room number eleven, illuminating only one side of Sam’s face, but it’s enough for Dean to make out the worried expression in his features.    “Did I wake you?” Sam asks hesitantly.     But the oldest of the Winchester brothers shakes his head, rubs his eyes and glances aside at his alarm clock. Not even 3 ‘o clock, so that gives him… two and a half hours of sleep? If you can call back to back nightmares sleep, anyway. Then Dean notices the scratches on the wall next to his bed, traces of crimson in the concrete. When he checks his right hand, he finds his fingertips bloody, his nails scraped away to the flesh.

    The hunter shifts his gaze back to Sam, who honestly doesn’t look like his night was any better.     “What are you doing up?”, he wonders.     “Cataloging Bart Kemp’s stuff. Thought I might find something that could help us out. He owned a ton of occult objects,” Sam asserts.     “Need a hand?” Dean shifts, flopping his legs over the side.     Sam frowns at that. Dean who wants to catalog hundreds of ancient items? That’s a new one.     “Sure you don’t wanna get some rest?” Sam returns doubtfully, watching how his brother straps on his boots.     “Nah, I’m good. Can’t sleep anyway.” He gets up and runs his fingers through his hair, smoothening it out.

    Avoiding his little brother’s concern, he pushes himself past Sam in the doorway, awkward unspoken words hovering between then. He can feel the tall hunter’s eyes, fixed to unravel what Dean is desperately trying to hide. Endless nights of terror as Michael wreaks havoc in his mind. Reliving the worst moments of his life and experiencing the new definition of hell that is yet to come. Trapped in the Ma’lak Box, screaming for help, for his brother, for Y/N, as he tries to crawl his way out while the water seeps in.

    As Dean enters the library with Sam on his tail, he grabs yesterday’s half a bottle of Jack Daniels from the table, unscrews the cap and takes a swig. His eyes roam over the collection of curse boxes, books and scattered notes, again ignoring the look his brother is throwing him. He has never shied away from liquor, but these days he fills more whiskey tumblers than coffee mugs. Self-medicating, he keeps telling himself. Anything to shut the tremors down.     “So, what we got?” he wonders, trying to steer the attention away.     “Dean...”     “Don’t.”

    With an agitated sigh the oldest of the two sits down, dismissing his brother’s attempt to start the conversation that he’s been trying to avoid for weeks. But for a short second, his mask wears thin. It confirms the worries that keep Sam up at night as well. Suddenly his brother seems older than forty, the age that the hunter miraculously reached last month. He’s much older when you count the decades he spent in Hell. Add the losses he suffered, the pain he’s been through, sleepless nights and tainted dreams; he’s an old soul, tired and worn. Keeping the Archangel on lock down is becoming more difficult with each day. Especially now that Michael is trying to break him by using the woman Dean lost his heart to.     “I heard you,” Sam admits. “I’m pretty sure the entire bunker did.”     Dean rolls his eyes slightly before looking away, opening his mouth to fire a second warning. But then Sam drops the bomb.     “I heard you call out for Y/N, too.”

    Y/N. The name of the woman Dean loved more than he ever thought he would be capable of, especially after all the horror he bared witness to. The name that’s never mentioned, not because she’s not worth to remember, but because even after all those years, he’s still afraid that touching that subject will wreck him the same way her death did.

    His heart starts to physically hurt as pressure on his chest builds. Struggling to hide the discomfort from showing, Dean has another swig of whiskey. He can’t prevent his jaw from clenching as he swallows down the alcohol, allowing the strong after burn to distract him. He could blow up on Sam, remind him of the fact that last time when he brought her up, Dean threatened to break his little brother’s nose if he ever would speak of her again. But Dean doesn’t counter. He’s too tired to fight Sammy, too.     “What do you want me to say, Sam?”     Sam spreads out his arms and lets them fall against his side, despondency in his stance.     “Anything!” he exclaims, his voice a little higher and a little louder than he anticipated. “Dean, I know nightmares come with the job, but this isn’t normal. Not even for us.”

    “Of course it’s not normal, Sam! Having a fucking Archangel trapped in my head ain’t a typical day at the office either! Who do you think is causing these dreams, huh?” Dean snaps, looking Sam in the eye for the first time that night. Then he takes a breath and collects himself. Stop being an ass, Dean. Sammy’s just worried.     “Michael is pulling out all the stops to crush me before we pin him down. Keeping me quiet by giving me what I wanted didn’t work, so now he’s doing the opposite,” he continues, much calmer now. “During the day I can handle him, but at night…”

    Mixed feelings cause the hunter to pause. He doesn’t want to burden his little brother with the weight that comes with the knowledge. He’s troubled enough as it is, frantically trying to find another way to expel Michael and lock him away where he can’t hurt anyone else. Another option, a scenario that doesn’t include his big brother on the bottom of the ocean in the Malak’ Box. But God, Dean needs an outlet.     “So this is his new approach? He shows you your darkest days?” Sam assumes, frowning empathetically.     Dean averts his eyes back to the bottle, his fingers around the glass body.     “On the big screen,” he confesses. “I’m not just watching, though.”     “What you mean?”     The younger Winchester has taken a seat, leaning his elbows on the rosewood surface as he leans over the table.     “I’m not a witness,” Dean begins to explain. “Sometimes I’m under water, like I’m in the Box already. Other times I experience memories I wish I could forget, exactly the way it went down. It… It feels real. I’m there, in the moment, but I can’t stop it. I can’t change what I did or didn’t do.”

    Sam runs his hand through his dark hair, feeling terrible that his big brother is forced to endure this every time he closes his eyes. His mind floats back to the moment earlier tonight, when Dean’s screams reached his hearing. His own name echoed through the hallways, but the chilling cry when he called out for her, will stay with him for a much longer time.     “Dean, Y/N’s death was not your fault,” Sam tries to assure him.     But Dean disagrees, shaking his head as he leans back in his seat. “I was supposed to protect her. She shouldn’t have been there with me, Sam.”     “She was our back up.”     “Yeah, and it got her killed.”

    Dean swallows down another slug of Jack Daniels and sniffs when he lowers the bottle, having downed almost a quarter of it’s content already. He bites his bottom lip hard, tempted to draw blood as he thinks about that day in Detroit. He remembers the argument they had before entering the apartment building where Lucifer held up. She refused to let the brothers go in by themselves, claiming that they needed a third man in case the plan went south and there was no one to finalize the mission. She didn’t just wanted to be there for them, she wanted to be there for him. He was about to lose his little brother forever, and she wanted to catch him before he fell to his knees. Dean allowed it reluctantly, and minutes later her skull was crushed against the concrete, bringing her short but meaningful life to a screeching halt.

    He was supposed to have her back that night. She was his girl. His girl he failed to save. And it’s not just Y/N who haunts him, because the son of God was right. His father, the Harvelles, Ash, Bobby, Pamela, Charlie, Kevin… The list goes on. All perished either because they gave their life for the Winchesters, or because they got caught in the crossfire. That’s on him. Every loved one he ever lost lost, they are all casualties he blames himself for. He doesn’t need an Archangel to remind him of his wrongs.

    Dean rises to his feet and pushes his chair back, its legs drawing such a loud screech from the smooth furnished floor, that Sam startles. Both were lost in thought for a moment, until the oldest of the two snaps out of it and decides that it’s time to get to work.     “Let’s not dwell on the fact that Michael is making my time in Hell look like Disney World. As long as I’m still sane, I much rather spend my night finding a way to end him.” He frowns at his little brother, his mask back on. “What do we got?”         The younger Winchester gathers his thoughts and shifts some notes aside.     “Well, uh - amongst all this there are a few artifacts that could be interesting. One of them is called the Pearl of Baozhu. It’s one of the eight ancient Chinese treasures.”     “What does it do?” Dean wonders.     “It grants wishes. Technically it’s supposed to give you ‘what your truly heart desires’.”     Hopeful Sam looks up to the hunter at the head of the table, who shrugs and seems to consider it.     “That would be Michael out of my head,” he concludes.     “Exactly.”     Dean takes a look around at the stack of boxes.     “So you’re telling me that the answer to our problems is sittin’ somewhere in this pile of shit?”     “Better start digging,” Sam suggests, pushing a box in his direction.

    Serenity lingers in the bunker in the early hours of a new day. The table lamps spread their light over the surface underneath, their rays warm and gentle for tired eyes. Dean is surrounded by several boxes and books, going through a journal while leaning back in his chair and with his ankles crossed, somewhat more relaxed now that he contributes to something useful. He’s nursing his whiskey, kept busy in search for a clue in order to find the Pearl. It’s a few minutes past five in the morning, when Sam opens his third box of the night and reveals a small bag, the silk fabric tied together with a yellow cord. Curiously Sam takes it out and loosens the tie, unfolding a little red cushion, on which a perfect round shape rests.     “Dean.”         “Hm?”     His brother doesn’t look up immediately, biting the end of pen as he scans through Bart Kemp’s notes.     “I think this is it,” Sam states, looking down at the tiny object that could be the solution to everything.      Now he does captures Dean’s attention, his green eyes darting up from sloppy handwriting to the little white ball.     “That’s the Pearl?” he checks, for some reason expecting something so powerful to be bigger.         Sam nods, hope pulling at the corner of his mouth. Intrigued Dean rises to his feet and circles the table, his eyes fixed on the powerful artifact.     “Let’s do it.”     “Are you sure you don’t want to call Mom, or wait for Cas?”, his brother suggests, somewhat anxiously.     “No,” Dean dismisses, taking the unfolded red cushion in both hands gingerly.  ‘If this mojo works like you say; great. If not; why get their hopes up?”

    Sam holds his brother’s gaze for a moment, wondering if that’s all there is to Dean’s eagerness, or that the real reason why he’s jumping the gun, is his desperation for expelling the Archangel from the Alcatraz that is his mind. Deciding that this is not the time to test that theory, he agrees.     “Okay, so…” Dean reaches for the Baozhu, not sure if he can touch it without consequence. “What do I do?”     “I don’t know.” The younger brother shrugs hesitantly. “I… I guess you hold the pearl and concentrates on what your heart desires?”     “Michael out of my head.”      The man holding the Pearl imprints the sentence into his brain, while Sam shoots his sibling a short glare, as if just stated the obvious.     “Got it,” Dean reassures, just a little too quickly.

    To Sammy it might seem cut and dry, but the man who is about to make a wish isn’t so sure. He could think of a list of things he would want differently. What would the world look like if the Yellow Eyed Demon hadn’t come after his family? If all evil would disappear from the face of the earth, just like that? Would Mom have raised her sons to have a normal childhood? Would his father still be around? Would Cas have descended from Heaven? Would Dean’s path crossed Y/N’s? Would she be alive?

    Dean regains his focus, picks up the little white ball from the cushion and holds it between his thumb and his index finger. Michael out of my head. That’s all he needs to keep in mind. Right now, that is all he wants. Before he rolls the Baozhu into the palm of his hand, the brothers exchange one last look, but then Dean encloses his fingers around the tiny treasure with such great power, and shuts his eyes. With furrowed brow Dean concentrates.

    It only takes a few seconds before an eerie electric static reaches his hearing, triggering him to look up. The wall lamps in the library flicker violently, until the power shortage causes the back up generators to start running. All secondary equipment is switched off and the emergency lights come on, draping the Winchesters in a red gleam. Sam observes his surroundings allerted, his eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness. Cautiously the men try to pick up on even the slightest movement or sound, their senses heightened, driven by instinct.

    Then they hear footsteps. Sam pulls his gun from behind his waistband in a split second, aiming at the central War room. His brother isn’t as quick on the draw, though, a hint of familiarity in the way the boots sound on the marble floors slowing him down.     “Dean? Sam?”

    Right there and then, Dean’s heart stops. He knows that voice, he’d recognize it anywhere. Soft and clear, just like he remembers, just like he dreamed. Shell shocked he stares down at the other room, where a silhouette appears from around the corner. Now he inhales sharply, wide eyes fixed on the figure approaching. No way… It can’t be.

    The power switches back on, the ominous red emergency rays replaced with warm bright light. It reveals Dean’s careful suspicion and it knocks the air out of his lungs. He must be dreaming again. That, or he’s having a hallucination. It wouldn’t be far fetched, sleep deprivation and alcohol consumption considered. But when he steals a glance at Sam, he sees the same shocked expression while his brother slowly lowers his gun.     “Y/N?” he stammers.

    She walks up the steps and halts under the arched entrance to the library, a little out of breath after her run down the hallways of this immense place. She glances from one Winchester brother to the other, her wild eyes leaving Dean for a second as she looks around at the impressive library. She doesn’t recognize the place, but despite the brick walls and lack of windows, it feels welcoming and safe. Wait, is that a telescope?     “What in the Hell? Where the fuck are we?” she wonders, returning her gaze to Sam. “And what happened to you guys? You both look like you aged a decade overnight.”

    Sam lets the air flow from his lips with a short huff, not sure if she’s trying to be funny or doesn’t have a clue what is going on. It’s so unmistakably her, though. The wit, the way she lights the room, a carelessness in her stroll as she enters the library. This is, without a shadow of a doubt, his friend, the closest he ever had to a sister. He can’t take his eyes off her, and he’s not the only one. It doesn’t go unnoticed, because Y/N bounces her focus between the boys, frowning at the evident shock on their faces.

    “W- why are you looking at me like that?” Uncomfortably she rubs her arm, her gaze now fixed on Dean.

    Unable to answer, he dumbfoundedly stares, his mouth agape. A mix of disbelief and astonishment has the hunter frozen on the spot, something that rarely ever happens to him. In his nightmares the Ma’lek Box would slowly fill up, until he drowned. In reality it’s his emotions that overflow the walls of his mind, the waterline rising until it reaches his eyes. Mystic green shimmers, his vision fogging, but he still sees her. He still sees the woman he lost, yet never stopped loving.

    Finally he’s able to move, stepping forward tentatively. With each step, Dean gets a little braver and closes the gap between them. When she’s at arm’s length, he stops, frantic eyes darting to take in every feature he never wants to forget. Afraid to burst the bubble, he slowly lifts his hand to her face. What if he touches her and she turns out to be nothing more than a mirage? An apparition of his hopes and dreams, crumbling to dust once he gets too close? Michael has played these kind of mind games before and it wrecked the broken hunter every time his fairytale world fell apart. But like he has done all those times, he reaches for her anyway, because what if this time, it is real?

    His fingertips brush her soft skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Overcome by both love and fear that speak from his watering eyes, she returns a worried gaze. Not daring to speak, she keeps looking at Dean as he cups her face, brushing a messy strand away with his thumb. It’s clear as day that the connection moves the person who has such an important part in her life.

    Feeling her under his touch, being able to connect with her when he thought he would never be able to again, it’s too much. He swallows down the lump that creeps up his throat, tears threatening to breach the walls. She’s here. Fuck, she’s really here.

    Dean takes a final step towards the woman of his dreams while he pulls her in and, without wasting another second, he does what he has been longing for ever since her shattering death. He presses his lips to hers, kissing her with everything he has. For a short second he feels her tense against him, but then she slips her hands around his forearms and she answers him, melting into the kiss. The man who regained what he had lost can’t help the tremble in his breath, can’t stop the teardrops from rolling down his cheek. He doesn’t care about showing vulnerability, because finally… finally he got her back.

    They part and she opens her beautiful eyes, confounded by his actions. A small yet genuine smile forms, breaking the shimmering paths of sorrow that came down his cheeks. Then the hunter pulls her in a tight hug, burying his face in her hair. Her heart beats against his chest rapidly and he can smell the shampoo she always used, feel the warmth she’s radiating. Memories roll into shore and the tough hunter holds back a sob. Noticing his distress, Y/N folds her arms around his back, giving him a squeeze that calms him down like only she could. God, does this feel good. She came back to him. It’s then and there that me makes himself a promise. I’m never gonna let this go.

    “Dean, you’re scaring me,” Y/N whimpers after a while.     The older Winchester brother snaps out of it and loosens his grip on her, distancing himself from her slightly, now that he realizes he lost track of time for a moment. He struggles to man up and shoots her another reassuring smile, not wanting to upset her.     “I’m sorry,” he utters, his voice raw and on the verge of breaking. “It’s just… It’s really good to see you after all this time.”     Puzzled she looks at him, not sure what he means by that.     “What are you talking about? I saw you last night.”

    Dean narrows his eyes at her in confusion. She saw him last night? How is that even possible? She’s been gone for nine years!     “What day is it?”     It’s Sam who asks, drawing both their attention. Y/N looks aside, then averts her eyes as she thinks. Monday, or is it Tuesday? As a hunter, there is no routine. Nights last long and days fly by, blending together endlessly. She forgets what part of the week it is all the time, nothing new there. Home Depot was closed when she went out to pick up a few errands yesterday; that makes it Sunday. Which makes today...     “Monday,” she decides.     Sam motions her to continue.     “Monday, October 20th,” she adds. “2008.”

    Stunned both boys look at her, the youngest of the brothers letting out a sigh now that his suspicion has been confirmed.     “Y/N, it’s 2019,” Dean informs, his voice soft to cushion the blow.     She cocks her head back at him, staring into his green eyes. Then she chuckles, shaking her head.     She scoffs. “No, c’mon, guys. That’s… that’s insane.”     But when both men keep a straight face that doesn’t in the slightest suggest that this is a joke, the grin on her lips fades. Unable to grasp what is happening, she takes a step back.

    “How?” She questions firmly after a long silence, an uneasiness oozing through her veins.     “I think we - uh…” Sam stammers, not sure if he believes it himself. “I think we summoned you.”     Large eyes bore into him, then shift back to Dean, who watches empathetically how she struggles to process the information. Her gaze drifts off to nothing in particular, going over their words. This isn’t happening. This is fucking insane. Last week they wrapped up a hunt in Pennsylvania during Oktoberfest that involved a shapeshifter with a fetish for old school monster movies. That was enough crazy for one week, if you ask her. And now they are telling her that she was fast forwarded eleven years in time?     “You boys better tell me what the fuck is going on,” she demands. “Right now.”

Holy shit! That was a ride, wasn’t it? Stay tuned for part 3, I hope to finish it soon. Meanwhile, don’t hesitate to let me know what you think so far!

Read part three here

‘All I Want’ tags: 

@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @justkending @the-is13 @wildsageleon