#and there is now a piece of plastic stuck in there forever. not the worst tbh 3/4 of the kids have a random chunk of clay rattling around in

[catgirlkirigiri]

Round two began earlier with some decapitations <3 ignore the lion and that longhair in the back they’re for other customs. My order for Gojo got cancelled so I gotta order a new husky for him otherwise he would’ve been part of decapitation time today

[violets-page]

Shot down Pt.3

Allie takes over your mind and all Raven can do is watch, feeling helpless.

TW: self-harm (kinda extreme)

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Masterlist

You relied often on the extension of crutches to be mobile. However, things that worked on the ark were not always as great on the ground.

Things like executions, lunch, and crutches, were all much better on the ark. All involved much less suffering. The bumpy terrain and muddy roads made you slip often. Walking made you anxious, afraid that at any moment your legs would give up and you would plummet to the soil. Stuck there until someone become willing to help. Needless to say, you avoided it at all costs. Or at least avoid walking alone.

Today was one of those days where you were forced to. Raven was working on some sort of electric fence around the camp and had begrudgingly left your side after you begged her to. You knew that being cramped inside all day with nothing to work on was worse than hell for her. It had rained earlier and the ground was a cesspool of piss and mud. Falling into it was ill-advised.

You were immensely grateful for the returning strength to your arms and spent many hours working out. Pull-ups were your preference. Without them hobbling along would have been much harder. Raven often commented on them with a smile and a laugh, it always made you blush.

The jagged metal of the crutches sank deep within the soil each time you set them down. It took forever for you to get more than a few feet from your tent, but by that time you had already grown too tired.

You practically fell onto a stray box before hurling the crutches into the mud next to you. You felt your foot twitch. Abby had stated this was a good sign of recovery but to you, it just felt like a painful reminder of your limits.

Your head fell forward as your palms dug into your eyes, holding back the tears like a damn.

The chip in your pocket felt like a hundred pounds as you pulled it out

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

When Jaha gave you the chip he had seemed so sure of himself, so convinced that these people would be happy. Hell, the man fell from space in a death capsule, was stranded in the desert, almost died, and somehow, and he looked happier than anyone else on this damned planet.

You had run out of other options. The worst that could happen? It turned out to be a piece of plastic and you were left with the unsatisfying taste of dirt.

You held it against your lips toying with the idea, you had run out of time, out of patience, out of hope.

Raven had slowly gotten over her guilt (all thanks to you) and due to your inability to travel more than 30 feet without screaming, you barely saw her. Abby was the only one who checked in regularly and most likely because you spent most of your time in her makeshift waiting room.

Waiting.

You were always waiting. Waiting for your friends to return, waiting for your leg to heal, waiting for love.

Before you could stop yourself you let the chip slide onto your tongue. It dissolved quickly at tasted faintly like salt and dough.

You sat there, waiting for euphoria, waiting for...something.

The kids on the ark sometimes smoked herbs. You thought it would feel like that, the world fading around you as bright colors floated around and everything else just ceased to matter.

Instead, you wiped tears from your eyes all the while cursing Thelonious. You grabbed your crutches, the walk back would take your remaining energy, but better than then be stuck in the oncoming rain.

You felt your annoyance growing with each step as the crutches creaked irritated by your weight on them. You couldn’t take it anymore, the anger came crashing like waves. You slammed the crutches in the mud with a scream. You hated them. They poked you in the arm, they were too tall and made your shoulders ache, they sunk into the ground and were too nosy.

you stood in front of the crutches before raising your leg to stomp on them.

You took your anger out, everything that was wrong with the world you suddenly blamed the crutches for.

“Stupid mother fu-”

Your stomps slowed to a steady pat before halting completely. You were moving, standing. Without the aid of crutches. You took a few more steps, and a few more, and some more. Until your eyes were met with a pristine pair of black heels.

Your eyes trailed up the ivory-toned legs and over the tight red dress of a figure, you'd never seen before. You stared at her in confusion.

“Hello y/n”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven hadn’t realized what was happening till it was too late.

You fought against the hold on Clarke and Bellamy in a fit of screams. The forest looked the same to you no matter where you were and your eyes hungrily searched for anything you could recognize

You heard the familiar faint whispers of Raven’s ‘I’m sorry’ before a needle was plunged into your neck and everything went dark.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

The drive to the grounder camp felt long and hopeless to Raven. She spent the drive running her hand through your hair hoping part of your unconscious mind would recognize her touch and be soothed by it.

She watched as Clarke and Bellamy hopped out of the truck to reason with the vicious-looking grounder. Her Breath hitched waiting and hoping they would be able to reason with her. She couldn't bear to lose you.

You were all she had.

She felt you shift in her arms, your eyebrows furrowed and she could see your eyes flutter but remain close. For a second she forgot the situation, a gentle smile down at your waking form. Then reality came crashing.

“Hurry she's waking up!”

You felt the fabric of a blindfold as rough hands shoved it down before you could even open your eyes.

Hands were on your body, their touch felt familiar but not enough that you could place the figure. The blindfold cocooned your ears and amplified the sound of your breathing so that Clarke’s voice was a dull mumble.

You felt your body being released from your arms as your back sunk it to something soft and shiny. You immediately started trying to get free. Attempting to rip the blindfold off, you felt your hands and feet grabbed by multiple sets of limbs. Restraints were bound sloppily but tightly around your wrists, with the addition of the blindfold and multiple pairs of hands trying to hold you down you weren't making much, if any progress.

The smartest thing to do was to obliviate one of these obstacles. You choose the easiest one. Your hands clawed at your face, you could faintly feel your skin under your nails as you ripped at it before your fingers were finally able to latch onto the blindfold, yanking it down and around your neck.

Alie’s familiar red dress stood out strongly against the dull tones of the unfamiliar room. The group stood in tense anticipation as you snapped your head around, trying to recognize the room. You knew it wasn't part of the ark, it was too dirty and earth-like. The fur rug made you think Trikru but where you had no idea. When your mind drew a blank Alie grew frustrated. Or at least, her version of frustrated.

“We need to know where you are.”

Your thrashing resumed this time tenfold.

“WHERE AM I. WHERE AM I.”

They struggled to hold you down as you fought past your physical capabilities to escape. They all had a grip on a limb making movement nearly impossible. Injuries, even if you couldn’t feel them, weakened you.

You turned to the closest person, who happened to be Raven, and sunk your teeth into the flesh of her wrists. It was shallow, she yanked her hand back before you could go deeper. Her pain barely registered in your mind, her tears didn’t tug at your heart like you knew they should have.

Instead, you seized the opportunity to reach over and punch Jasper square in the nose. His hold loosed but by then Raven had latched back on, the blood from her wrists trickled slowly down onto your exposed skin. With each failed attempt at escaping struggling grew harder.

Clarke and Bellamy had been quick to grab a spare rope, using it to bound your hands and feet to the posts of the strange bed. You screamed in frustration as Alie stared at you. She showed no emotion, just the same semi-pleasant stare she always held.

“LET ME GO.”

You knew the awful things Alie could do and you were no stranger to them. The scream was a mix of terror and anger. You tossed your body up and down hoping to break the posts, the bed, something to set you free.

“LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO.” Your voice grew more strained with every word. If you could feel pain your throat would probably ache immensely.

The group stepped back after thoroughly double-checking the knots. The sheer look of horror was displayed across all of their faces and it vexed you deeply

Didn't they know you were doing this for them? For her?

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven stood in the other room, watching you made her feel sick to her stomach. Not that listening to your screams from a different room made it any better. She could hear the creaking of the bed and pained screams throughout the entire house. So she stood, waiting anxiously with Clarke for their next move.

Her nails had been chewed to the beds and she knew that if- when you came to, you would scold her till her ears bleed.

Clarke said she knew where to get a wristband and Sinclair knew how to alter it to suit their needs. But Raven grew nervous with the time it was taking for either of them to follow through on these promises.

She glanced to where Clarke was talking to the grounder and felt her muscles tense when the girl gave Clarke an angry glare. Whatever Clarke was trying to achieve, she was doing a horrible job of it.

By now all of her nails had been chomped town to raw skin so she switched to pacing. Back and forth, back and forth trying to drown out your ever-fainting screams.

Raven let an audible sound of relief when Clarke set the wristband on the table. It had been a silent mutual agreement that Sinclair would be the one to work on the wristbands.

One part because He knew them best and the other because Raven couldn’t keep her fingers from trembling long enough to do the necessary machine work.

“So how do we do this?” Clarke seemed the calmest of them all. Losing Lexa had numbed her in a way.

“If we can turn it into an EMP we can use it to fry the bitch out of her head. The electromagnetic pulse would destroy the critics. You just need to reverse the polarity and...”

Raven droned on in her explanation, faintly aware of how quiet the neighboring room had grown.

“We don’t know what the chip embedded in her brain is like, it could cause a bad outcome”

“Worse than this?” Her question was met with a defeating silence. Not that she expected anyone would answer. She wasn’t feeling too strongly about the plan either but she couldn't watch you slowly break apart, her lover disappearing with every day until all that's left would be a hollow shell. She tried to reassure herself that it was what you would want.

The group continued to talk, working up a solution until they had a solid plan mapped out. Monty and Octavia had fled to the dropship to gather the necessary parts while everyone else had stayed behind.

She made her way back into the room to watch you.

Maybe for a moment, she could envision you back to normal, pretending that she was simply watching you blissfully relax.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven stood in the corner of the room. Her posture was rigid and he hands crossed over her chest relaying defensive positioning.

Not that you even cared. You surveyed your bound wrists with a bored expression. Her eyes fluttered between you and the floor constantly. The floor was basic dirt and about as interesting as well... dirt. Meaning that she was avoiding your eyes.

You rolled your wrists thoughtfully considering a slip-out process, you knew how Raven worked, how she thought, her weak spots. You could take her easily. You tugged at the right wrist restarting trying desperately to wrench your wrist free.

Alie watched you robotically her red dress unnatural in the atmosphere.

“With marginally more slack, you could reach those knots.”

The idea hadn’t occurred to you before. without pain inhabilitating you, you’d be able to dislocate your shoulder, properly creating more slack.

You twisted, you could feel the muscles in your arm pulling taut as you put out exasperated grunts. Raven’s eyes snapped to yours, her worry clouding her fear.

“Y/N, please...”

When you made no effort to stop she took note of your clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

“What- what are you doing?”

Her voice no longer had any effect on you. Your heart didn’t ache when you saw the pain in her eyes, you didn’t feel the need to comfort her when you could sense her anxiety. You were trying to help her, get her to take the chip so that you could be happy together so that her pain could end. But until she did, she was just a pest in your mission.

You kept tugging, you could feel your muscles grow stressed as you got closer to your goal. The grinding of your bones scrapped your ears as your arm popped out of its socket.

Raven stood frozen in shock. The fear on her face was evident but she was too startled to have a reasonable reaction.

“There is no pain here Ray, you could be free.”

Maybe it was the nickname rolling off your tongue, it’s lack of love or familiarity, or maybe she saw you trying to chew off the restraints, but she finally snapped out of it.

“STOP IT! GUYS.”

The blood has started to run back down your arm. Somehow in forgetting pain you also forgot about death. Raven didn’t know what to do, how to stop you, and stop the bleeding all at once.

Her heart was pounding out of her chest as images of your still body lying in a pool of blood clouded her thoughts.

“Oh god.”

She reached for your head, her calloused fingers against your cheeks as she tried to turn your head away from her wrists. You snapped at her, your teeth clenching around the air, but it was enough to get her to let go. The memory of your teeth in her skin and the stinging of her wrist were a painful reminder of how far you would go.

Clarke came in as you resumed chewing on the restraints. So close...

Before you could get them Bellamy and Raven had yanked you away. Enforcing your body in its position with more rope.

Clarke shouted at you to stop but you drowned her out, straining your neck in a futile attempt to reach the restraints.

“Alie.”

Your head snapped to Jasper’s as the familiar probing sensation in your brain occurred. Everything went dark,  when you came back to it, Alie was staring at you. The slightest traces of distaste etched across her red lips.

“Let them help you”

You froze, staring straight ahead. For a moment everyone else did too. Probably expecting you to lash out again and bite one of them. When you didn’t Raven quickly took to untying your wrists.

You watched her with faint interest. You couldn’t remember why you wanted to save her but you knew you did, somewhere deep down. Your eyes traveled down her arms. Her fingers were latched tightly around your arm. The teeth marks were barely visible, caked under her dried blood. Or maybe that was yours. You felt something in you ache, you can’t feel pain but this feeling... felt painful?

You pondered upon its appearance as Clarke used her foot to relocate your shoulder.

You didn’t even flinch.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven had volunteered to stay with you. God knows why, you had hurt her enough. You rolled her eyes when she did, not that anyone noticed.

She sat at the end of the bed. you didn’t really mind, not that you could even do anything if you did.

You looked her up and down.

“Do you still cry?” It wasn’t really a question, you knew the answer. You just wanted to hear her say it.

Her eyes shot up to yours. Her hands tensed in her lap and you momentarily took note of her bloody nails.

“What”

“You used to cry over my leg. Why did you stop?”

She opened her mouth but then shut it not knowing how to answer, or who was even talking to her.

“If I’m being honest I think it was quite selfish of you. I’m the one with the fucked up leg and yet, I was the one comforting you about it.”

Her expression hardened but the tears in her eyes stayed. your stomach ached again but you ignored it.

“Get out of her head Alie”

You smiled at her, a nice teethy one, completely catching her off guard.

“It’s not Alie. It’s me Raven, your- your.” but your mind drew a blank. How did you know Raven? You couldn’t remember and it made you mad.

“You're the reason I’m in here. the reason I took the chip. Because you let me get shot.”

“Shut up.”

“You couldn’t help me and when I needed you most you disappeared.” you sneered at her as tears ran down her face.

“I’m sorry... I-”

Clarke’s hand was on her shoulder, leading her out of the room before you could get another jab in, but that didn’t stop you from trying.

“I HATE YOU RAVEN. I HATE YOU.”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

You watched as Sinclaire put together a type of bracelet device.

“Their design is good, I won’t be able to get here before they disconnect you.”

You felt your heart rate spike knowing what was to come and that you had no way of stopping it. You struggled to try to pull your hands free before they could latch the device on. Your attempts were pathetic.

“You know too much. I can’t let them have you.”

The red dress disappeared and your head felt like it was on fire.

Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.

You had to get rid of the burning, it engulfed your head, shooting from the base of your neck, its flame growing stronger every second. You slammed your head against the headboard. Once. Twice. Every time you did the burning seemed to stop for a second, so you speed up. Screaming as your brain felt like it was being incinerated. You didn’t even notice when the bracelet was strapped on. Your eyes moved to Raven's tear-stained face and her mouth open in an apparent scream.

You almost stopped. A second of hesitation before the banging resumed.

You didn’t notice when blood started to run down your neck or when Octavia grabbed your head in an attempt to hold it still. You tried to scream at them to stop, that they needed to let you stop the burning but you couldn’t seem to form words.

You screamed as tears ran down your eyes.

“Please please please Raven. I don’t wanna die. Please don’t let them kill me!” You hiccuped. Your neck continued to jolt as you tried to smash it against the headboard. She looked heartbroken as her hands fell to your cheeks. You closed your eyes as sobs racked your body. The faint feeling of her lips against your forehead felt like a drop of water in the desert.

“I’m sorry love” You felt all the blood in your body vibrate as the current soared through you.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

When you woke up everything hurt. The pain shocked you at first. You’d grow accustomed to its absence. You went to move your hands to your head, the sticky blood coated your fingers as they rested upon a thin cut at the base of your neck.

“Ow.”

Everyone let out an audible sigh of relief. Her familiar hands were on the sides of your head, pulling your face into her chest. You allowed her scent and the smooth folds of her shit to engulf your senses as you tried to ignore the bustling headache that was sneaking up on you.

As if suddenly remembering you grasped her forearms pulling them away from your head, You stared at the deep, red indentations on her wrists.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you let out a soft gasp.

You had done that to her.

She sensed your emotions, she always did. And she always knew exactly what to do about it. Her hands moved back to your hair, stroking it gently while avoiding the cuts and bruises you’d received.

You stared up at her for a while until the pain grew too much and you closed your eyes, allowing your head to fall back forward against her stomach.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Inked

Still on hiatus. But I found an old piece of writing and I revamped it just a smidge! It was originally published in 2018 on calumh-excess. Which is now deactivated. Hooray for finding pieces!

Calum's been watching Jay for a while. She's cute, talented, but a bit of mystery. Should he really give into her? What will it take for him to admit he has a crush?

Enjoy my masterlist (on hiatus)

______________

He watched her sometimes for far too long. The way her tongue stuck out as she pulled the skin and her hand worked steadily with the needle made it hard for him to resist. Her face always seemed to catch the harsh fluorescent lights and reflect it back so that it twinkled against her skin. A slight sheen, but nothing just of ethereal. He wasn’t even interested in any new ink, not seriously anyway. He had slowed on the ink train, but the shop his tattoo artist owned was a nice place to hang out sometimes. When he wanted to get out of his house but didn’t want to actually go somewhere, he could hang out here, listening to the buzz of the tattoo gun, poke his hand at trying a design here or there. They weren't great. He hadn't considered him this kind of artist, but the shop felt like a second home.

Besides, having her around was a more than welcomed bonus.

He wasn’t even sure what it was about her. She showed up about a year and a half ago, under an apprenticeship. Calum’s artist was unsure of her, much like everyone else that asked to work under him. A hazard of the job, according to the job, according to Calum's artist. However, her drawings spoke volumes; the colors and line work were impeccable. She had talent and knew it without being cocky about it. Well, sometimes she wasn’t. Calum watched her run into the occasional asshole that tried to belittle her; she always put her foot down in those situations. He didn’t fault her.

Today’s no different. When Calum walks in, he greets the guy at the front desk, eyes searching for her. He spots her in the back with her oversized frames creating a small glare over her brown eyes. He never quite got the appeal of the grandma-shaped glasses trend, but on her, they worked. She looked wise but soft. The glass pulled him in, felt like she was seeing into his soul. Maybe she was; maybe the pain made people more vulnerable than they anticipated--entrusting someone, a stranger in some ways, to permanently mark you and not fuck it up. Whatever the reason, looking at her felt timeless. Like she had seen it all, and you are just waiting for you to spill all the secrets.

“You finally going to get some new ink?” Calum’s artist teases.

Calum shakes his head, turning his attention away from her. “You finally took her training wheels off?”

“Your girlfriend’s got mad skills. I couldn’t baby her forever. Jay works hard on each piece, learned fast. Got a steady ass hand and pretty gentle for handling a needle.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, because you haven’t hardly even talked to her. Go for it, you wuss. What’s the worst she says? No?”

Calum exhales a chuckle. "I mean, the worst she stabs me with the tattoo gun. But considering the ink I'm already sporting, I doubt that's really all that bad.”

“Jay would not do that unless you asked for it, ff course. But really, go on, ask her out.”

Calum glances back at Jay. It’s a nickname. No one in the shop calls her by her full name. The only reason Calum heard it was when a client came asking for her. Jay was quick to correct them.

She wipes, clearing excess ink, before dipping back into the small cup. Jay smiles up at her client. Calum's sure they appreciate the reprise. Getting tattoos weren't always fun, but bearable enough to forget about it and get more.

Calum turns his gaze away. “I recommended you to a friend,” he says, hoping that he’ll escape the teasing. It’s not likely to happen. But at least he tries to minimize the ridicule.

"I appreciate it. Are they a first-timer?"

"A second-timer, but they're visiting town and want some new ink. I figured best not to fuck them over."

The two men laugh before Calum's escorted back to look through some new designs. Just in case something sparks his interest. Calum's visit is supposed to be short, but there's not much else on his to-do list for the day. He could kill a few hours here.

When Calum comes out from the back, after spending too much time pretending art was ever a talent of his, he looks for Jay again. She’s not in her corner, nor is she at the front. Calum shrugs, figuring she might have gone for lunch, or home depending.

As Calum walks to his car, he checks his phone. Nothing major's happened.

“Leaving so soon?” A voice states. Calum knows that voice, a little gravelly, mostly sweet. He’s dreamt of it every so often. He prays to hear it when he visits the shop.

He turns to Jay, who leans against the bricks. A vape is wrapped in her fingers. “Gotta get some dinner, maybe make a run to the grocery store," Calum returns. "I've gotten lazy."

She nods. “This reminds me that I can't survive off BLTs forever," she laughs.

"You could try, but I think you'd need other vegetables and some fruit in that mix too."

She pushes up on her glass with a nod. "Ah, yes, gotta get the whole food pyramid." It goes silent between them and Calum gives another nod, raising a few fingers to signal his departure while still keeping his phone in a secure enough grip.

"Hey, wait!" Jay calls out again, taking a half step forward. Calum turns to her. "Can I give you something before you leave?”

Calum nods, not trusting his voice. What would she give him? She nods back to the front door, taking back that initial half-step. “It's inside. Give me like two minutes.”

She disappears inside and Calum stands, his phone still in his hands, staring at the spot she once stood. Just as quickly as she disappeared, Jay reappears. In hand is her portfolio. She flips through before stopping and slides the heavy-duty drawing paper out.

Calum stares down at the green and black drawing. It’s his face, for the most part, that stares back at him. It’s distorted by a crystal ball that glows green. Inside are some instruments and something else, but right now he can’t really put it all together. His eyes keep moving over the lightning bolt, the crystal ball, the uncanniness of his face on a piece of paper, his three-dimensional face somehow translated perfectly into a 2-D space.

“Holy shit, this is amazing,” he breathes. “Thank you,” he says looking back up to her.

She shrugs with a smile. “You’re welcome.”

“Seriously, this is so fucking awesome. I’m going to frame it,” he gushes. He’s too excited to be nervous, or be embarrassed. "What are the dimensions?"

“I'm just really glad you don’t find it too creepy. I was watching you a couple weeks ago when you stopped by. It just sort hit me, the image of the crystal ball and lightning bolt; I had to draw it,” Jay elaborates. "And it's 8.5 by 11--standard printer paper size."

Calum shakes his head, staring over the drawing again. It feels so delicate suddenly in his hands. It’s almost like Jay recognizes the change in his handling. She shuffles her load in her hands and pulls out an empty plastic over. “Here,” she laughs handing it over. “So it doesn’t smudge or anything if you're worried."

Calum slides it in. “Thank you. Again. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome, Calum. Good luck with your grocery store trip and dinner,” Jay nods and then heads back inside. Calum watches the way the denim stretches across her hips, the way her hair billows just a little in the breeze of her strut.

For a moment, Calum can't move. The weight of the paper in his hand is hardly ounces, but it holds him--traps him to the point of the sidewalk. Jay thought enough of him to draw him. What did it all mean? Should he have found the courage to ask her out? He could walk back inside. But what if she didn't like him like that? Would it be too weird?

Calum blinks up into the hardly settling sun and thinks to himself, the second he can come back here, it better be with a bit more courage and possibly a gift certificate. No one can be made about free food, right?

It’s months before Calum can visit the shop again. The tour is a whirlwind and he only gets a few days off between legs. Not long enough to get back home or feel like he had any energy to drive out to the shop. But now that he's settled back in at home, he knows exactly where he's going.

It’s not his typical practice to just walk in and ask for a tattoo. But given the ink already on him, worse things could happen. When he pulls open the door, he notices it's kind of slow. Jay greets him at the front desk. “Hey, stranger,” she grins.

“Hey, how are you?” he asks in return.

“Pretty good. How was it? The tour? See any cool places?”

He nods. “Yeah, got to explore a few cities.” He taps his fingers against the wooden desk. “Do you have an appointment anytime soon?”

Jay shakes her head. “My 2 o’clock had to reschedule. I’m here until 4 before I see anyone. Why? What's tickling your fancy?”

“I was wondering if you could do a tat for me? I know this is very last minute and if you need me to come in another day this week, I totally can.” His words run into each other; his palms start to sweat. He wipes them on his jeans.

Jay laughs, holding up a hand. “Whoa, pump the brakes. One, what are you looking for?”

“You know that drawing you did for me?” She nods. “I was kind of hoping you could create something with just the crystal ball and lightning bolt. I know the drawing itself is kind of big.”

A grin lifts her cheeks; Calum’s heart settles for a second. “I think I can do that. Where are you thinking to put it?”

“Inner bicep.” He watches her gaze land on his arm. The t-shirt is baggy, he at least thought about that with enough advance.

��Give me 30 minutes to come up with some sketches.” Jay pushes away from the front desk and heads to the back, but not for calling to the shop to watch the front desk.

Calum slides into the seat at the front, leg bouncing as he settles down. This isn’t even his first tattoo, but the nerves flood his body. His scalp tingles. The thirty minutes move by too fast, but also too slow simultaneously. The seconds feel like hours but move by milliseconds.

Eventually, Jay resurfaces, waving him over to her. He walks back and looks at the sketches she places out in front of him. There are two different ones. One’s a bit more minimalistic, which is her style, with the lightning bolt in the background and a simple crystal ball at the point. The other is a bit bolder, the ball has a slightly warped edge where it connects to the bolt. It looks like the bolt is melting the glass ball.

“I can whip up more if neither one of them are quite right. But I wasn’t sure if it wanted something a bit more crisp and sharp or not,” Jay explains.

Calum admits that most of his tattoos are more cleaned up and sharp. He likes the idea of playing with a new style. “I like the second one,” he says, tapping it.

“You sure?” He nods, he’s never been more sure of something in his life. “Which bicep? Let me line it up and make sure it’ll fit.”

Calum lifts his left arm up for her. Laying the stencil over his skin, Jay notes she has to make a couple small tweaks. But after that, she’ll be ready. They discuss full color, or just outline, or shading, price, and a few other details before Jay concludes with, “Hop in my seat. I’ll be there soon.”

Calum nods and walks over to her station. Her stuff is already laid out, probably for her canceled 2 o’clock. It’s about five more minutes before Jay returns with the final stencil. Calum rolls up the sleeve of his shirt before she places the stencil. Happy with the placement, he stretches out on the table.

Jay gets herself ready before she brings the needle over his skin. The first puncture always makes him jolt a little, the first jab of pain causes his heart to race. “Do you plan on relaxing now that you're back home?"

"Yeah, for a little bit. I might go see my family, but I know we'll be back in the studio soon. Anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

"I mean exciting things happen every day at this place. But it's not like I could recall them all now."

Calum hums, acknowledging her statement, but not quite sure what to say next. Luckily, Jay's faster to fill in the silence. "You do realize you didn’t have to get a tattoo to have a real conversation with me?” Jay teases, pushing up her glasses.

Calum’s cheeks heat. “It’s not like that,” he chuckles.

“Well, that’s how it seems.”

“You were always busy when I stopped by. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Not always,” she laughs. “But it’s alright. You’re going to have plenty of time while I’m stabbing you to say all those things you didn’t.”

A chuckle escapes him; of course, Jay would have this sense of humor. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m paying so much for people just to stab me and act as a therapy. Maybe I am a masochist.”

“So are a lot of people. Sometimes you just take the emotional pain out in the physical realm.”

“I always imagined people that worked in a tattoo shop to be more heavily tatted,” Calum hums, taking in scattered ink across her arms and one pokes out from the V in her t-shirt.

“I focused it more on my back and legs and not so much my arms. I’m getting there. So, why this one today?”

Calum goes to shrug, but stops himself as he hears the gun nearing his skin again. “Not really sure. It looked cool. I guess it also serves to remind me that fate isn’t linear. There’s going to be twists and turns, maybe some trouble. And that’s okay. Don’t be afraid of the journey. Also, it's really fucking cool art.”

Jay hums her laugh, “Why thank you. Wise brain you got there. Besides, it seems like you also have people you keep close to you.” She eyes the initials and the name under the bird. “Whoever they are to you, I hope you all stay close.”

“Those are my parents' initials,” he explains. “And my sister’s name. They’ve been with me through it all--I love them dearly.”

“So sweet. I wish my parents and I were closer. I tattooed my brother’s jersey number on me. It was my first tattoo.”

“What did he play?”

“Soccer, or for your kind, football.”

“Hey now, it’s played with the feet, it makes much more sense.”

Jay laughs, wiping off excess ink. She cocks her head to the side a little, then goes back in for the black ink. “I’m only teasing. Us Americans are so dumb sometimes. Like why is our football not called something else? Literally, the only thing that happens with the feet is the running. We carry the fucking ball.”

“I’ve wondered that as well!” he laughs. "Does your brother still play?"

“Yeah, the whole knucklehead still plays for his college.”

“What position?”

Jay laughs. “I'll have you know my job as the older sister is to show up and cheer him on. Something defensive? I don’t remember off the top my head.”

“I’ll give you credit for that. I’m sure he appreciates it.”

“He does until he sees with me in face paint on and then he’s acting like he doesn’t know me. Oh, oh wait, I think remember what he does. It’s defensive,” she pauses, lips pursed together, “something fielder.”

“Defensive midfielder?” he asks.

“Yeah, that. But like I said, I show up when I can and scream. That’s it. When he’s old enough, I’ll buy him a beer after his games too.”

“How old is he?”

“Nineteen, we’re three years apart.”

“The only sibling you have?”

“Nah, got a baby sister too. She’s fifteen. If you’re impressed by my eyeshadow thank her. Because she’s the one that taught me how to do it.”

Calum finds himself staring at the red and gold coloring her eyelids. “It looks really nice,” he breathes.

“Why thank you.” She pauses to bats her eyelashes. “I even managed to get those godforsaken falsies on right too. They look good, but the raise hell.”

“I think you’re the first woman I’ve met in LA that’s not obsessed with makeup,” he notes.

“Oh, you were doing so well. There are a lot of people of who aren’t huge in the makeup scene.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he tries to backtrack. “I’m sorry. In my experience, it’s not like that. They’re hiding the fact they aren’t wearing makeup--embarrassed by it or something.”

Jay nods, pushing up her glasses yet again. “Yeah, it’s not easy. We’re told to be perfect, but in reality, we’re just like everyone. We’re human, imperfect and flaw-full and beautiful.”

“Not in spite of, but because of.”

“Exactly,” she chuckles. Silences settles in around them. Calum wonders why she said she was closer to her family, but the way she talks about her siblings doesn’t match. She’s cheering her brother on at his game; she’s sitting down to learn makeup with and from her sister.

“Can I ask a bit of a personal question?” he asks.

“What kind of personal? Do I get a lifeline?”

Cal exhales a laugh. “You can always say no.”

“Hit me with it.”

“Why say that you’re family isn’t close but you clearly take a lot of pride in your siblings?”

“An observant one on my table, I see. It’s my parents. They don’t like that I’m pansexual, say I’m going to hell. My siblings don’t fucking care. I’m still the crazy-ass sister that loves and supports them.”

With a hum of acknowledgment from Calum, it goes quiet again around them for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He knows it doesn’t really fix anything for her; it doesn’t take away the potential years of her suffering. It’s the only thing he can offer her though. It feels right to say.

“Oh, no need for you to be sorry. It’s not like you threw me out of the house.”

“Ouch. You’re making it though right?”

“Yeah, now that I work here, things are on the up and up.”

“That’s good; I’m glad.”

“Thanks.”

“Favorite tattoo you’ve done?” he asks, wanting to hear her voice again.

“This one,” she laughs. “Though I had someone ask for a pin-up witch, which was also pretty fucking cool to do.”

Calum remembers seeing that on her Instagram. “That one was amazing! Her lips looked so good; I know that’s a strange thing to admit.”

“Don’t worry. I am quite proud of that myself.”

“Do you have a favorite tattoo on you?”

“The blue jay on my shoulder. My parents would take me on walks when I was still an infant. According to the legend, while they were sitting on a park bench a blue jay landed on me. I didn’t cry; it didn’t hurt me. It just landed for a second and then flew off. They called me Blue Jay ever since. I just shortened the nickname as I got older.” She gives one more wipe. “Finished. Check it out.”

Calum sits up, walking over to the mirror. He grins seeing the melting ball sitting against his skin. He grins over to Jay. “It looks amazing. Thank you.”

“No problem.” They head back over to her station. Jay cleans it and wraps the fresh ink. Calum carefully gets his sleeve back down with a little help from Jay. He pays their agreed price with his card, but slides two fifties over to her. “You do know that’s more than double a twenty percent tip right?”

Calum shrugs. “Is it? I’m bad at math,” he grins. “Treat your sister to a new palette or something. Treat yourself to something.”

“Thank you. Now next time, you come by, I hope we don’t talk while I’m stabbing you repeatedly.”

Calum shakes his head, a grin still on his face. Of course. He had forgotten to get the gift certificate. But possibly asking Jay to dinner wouldn't be such a bad idea. “Give me your number and I can promise the next time we talk, it won’t in your chair.”

She holds out her hand, waiting. He hands her his phone, after unlocking it. She puts her number in. She goes to hand the phone back but just before his fingers touch it, she draws it back. "I mean it--actually text me. I adore memes, dogs, TikToks, your favorite songs."

"I'll actually talk to you. I promise."

Jay hands over his phone with a smile. Calum steps outside the glass doors. Why should he wait? He could do it now. For fuck sake, the last hour had been the groundwork for a clear sign a date was absolutely an option. His fingers hovering over her name. He taps it, and then presses for a call. Holding the phone to his ear, he listens to it ring for a second.

“I can still see you, you know?” Jay laughs.

Calum turns around, catching her leaning against the front desk. “I told you the next time we talked you wouldn’t be inking me.”

“What can I help you with, Calum?”

“Dinner, tonight-- I may have ordered too many appetizers for just little old me."

Her laugh trickles in over the speaker. She drops her head, giving it a shake before looking back up to him in the afternoon sun. “I think I can help you with that. Give me the time and place."

Calum rattles off the name of a restaurant that he had been wanting to try. Nothing too upscale, but not something that would be too casual. "How does 8 sound?"

"I love it there. I'll see you at 8."

“Bye, Jay.”

“Bye, Calum.” As he walks to his car, his phone buzzes yet again. This time a text from his artist, I’m being fucking replaced, I see. I can’t be too mad since it’s Jay. Calum laughs as he slides into his car. Maybe he is getting replaced; maybe he’s not. Calum’s not sure. He is sure that he needs to figure out if he can make reservations and what to wear for tonight.

[kiriluvbot]

pros of shipping rare pairs: you have to make your own content, creative freedom, less ship wars

cons: you have to make your own content

so here i am, making my own content. also, manga spoilers ahead.

—

seroroki, post war arc, in the hospital

—

nothing felt real.

not the uncomfortable plastic seat beneath him, not the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead, not the ticking clock on the wall. most certainly not the school uniform clinging almost too tightly to his skin.

he was aware of every loose string of thread, of the sickly scent of sterilizer in the air, of the voices humming in tune with the lights. a door slammed to his left and he flinched.

“we can’t reach them, i don't know what’s going on—“

the battle against all for one and shigaraki ended only a few days ago, but it felt like no time at all and all the time in the world had passed. the number one hero, endeavor, had nearly been killed. half of hanta’s classmates were in hospital beds, unconscious or barely able to speak.

“endeavor, he—he’s down!”

the world had been turned upside down. hero society as everyone knew it was falling apart of the seams. heroes were dead. civilians. classmates. dead. cities were flattened, disintegrated or on fire. the very earth seemed to be crumbling.

“that—that thing. it’s coming this way. we have to move. sero—“

hanta sero wanted to be a hero. hanta wanted to be a hero dammit, but when the time came, what could he do? what could his quirk do? he was not strong enough, not fast enough, not smart enough. he applied to the best hero school in the world and trained until he felt like he was going to die and it was not enough.

the whole thing had felt like some terrible nightmare. the worst nightmare, worst case scenario, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it. not as shigaraki during a whole city to dust, not as giantomachia flattened an entire forest, not as endeavor was knocked clear out of the sky. not as their friends lay on the ground dead or dying, not as civilians cried out for help under rubble, not as the bad guys slipped away like they were in no hurry at all.

“just—be careful out there, hanta. please.”

“sero, bub, come on.”

“come back to me in one piece. okay, shoto? promise me.”

a hand rests gently on sero’s shoulder. it makes him jump, immediately turning to search for the source. sero finds it’s just smiling kirishima, red hair down and framing his tired eyes. his heart races as another door shuts a little too hard.

“is it time?” sero’s voice sounds dry and foreign to himself.

“yeah,” kirishima replies. “let’s go see todoroki.”

the name alone is nearly enough to send sero buckling to the floor.

“shoto—where is he? why can’t i see him?”

“you need to calm down, kid. we’ve got everything under control.”

“tell me he’s going to be okay. tell me!”

sero is hardly aware of his own footsteps as a nurse leads them through a maze of blinding white halls. he’s numb and hyper aware all at the same time and it’s awful.

as soon as they’d gotten word that todoroki was awake, a small group consisting of sero, kirishima, satou, momo, and jirou left immediately to go see him. no word on bakugo yet, or midoriya. the three idiots dived head first into the worst of the battle. sero hadn’t known until hours later. he briefly recalls the dull look in kirishima’s eyes, how he merely clammed up and went silent. sero hadn't reacted quite the same. he only remembers falling to his knees, begging for answers.

not much comes to mind after that.

sero wishes now that he could see todoroki alone, that he could scoop him up and run away to some imaginary land where villains and heroes didn’t exist. where they could be safe.

he also considers turning tail and running back to his dorm and never leaving again. sero wasn’t sure how he could stand seeing todoroki in whatever state he was in—

“i am touya todoroki, the eldest son of endeavor.”

the flames, the smell of burnt—

the nurse leading them says, “his voice isn’t completely back yet, but he’s awake and doing well. just be careful, please.”

then the door opens. kirishima leads the way and sero finds he’s okay with that, because he’s quickly realizing that he’s not at all prepared. not even close.

shoto todoroki is leaned up on his bed, wrapped almost entirely in bandages. his baby blue hospital gown is too big for him; it dips off one shoulder. nearly his entire face is bandaged, his right arm, his chest too, it seems. what skin can be seen is dull, but his eyes are not. they shine with unshed tears that sero can see even from this distance.

“todoroki,” kirishima starts. “so glad to see you, man.”

the others chime in, smiling softly and hiding their hands behind their back, keeping a vice like grip on their self control. sero finds, for the first time ever, he can’t say a damn thing.

todoroki opens his mouth. the sound that comes out is horrible and broken, but he rasps out a simple hey, guys.

“you’re gonna need a full time translator,” kirishima jokes, and sero’s lip quirks despite the heaviness in the air.

and after a while, one by one, this little group dissipates. kirishima and sero are left, and then kirishima goes, too. his hand finds sero’s shoulder once more, and he shoots a see you later at todoroki before exiting.

and then it’s just them. sero and todoroki.

just like it’d been before this whole shit show started.

legs tangled, fingers entwined, promises made, confessions unsaid.

“hanta—“ that voice comes out again, raspy and shattered. “i—“

“you came back to us in one piece,” sero says, interrupting. “please don’t start to apologize.”

what he doesn’t say is: i didn't tell you before we left—i didn’t tell you because i was scared. and for a bit i thought i’d never see you again. for a bit i thought i was going to die. i thought you were going to—

sero sits on the bed, todoroki’s legs just barely a ghost behind him. this lighting makes him look paler than usual, makes his scar stand out, makes his hair look like fresh—

stop.

todoroki doesn’t even know where to start. he was sure he was going to die on the battlefield. he was sure he was going to die in dabi’s—no, touya’s arms. he was sure his brother was going to kill him.

when todoroki woke, all he could remember was the sheer terror he felt on that hill, his supposedly dead brother right in front of him, dancing like a mad man, laughing hysterically. it was like everything had been ripped out from underneath todoroki. he had become very unsure of everything he knew about himself, about his father, about his whole family at that moment. even more unsure than he’d been previously.

as much as todoroki wanted to deny it, wanted to scream that dabi was nothing but a meddling lunatic, the sensible part of him knew it was true.

endeavor may be number one hero but he had not succeeded at a single thing except making a monster out of his first born. the rest, well—you know how the story goes.

the truth made todoroki feel tainted, stained. it made him feel contaimniated and heavy and like maybe—maybe he should’ve let dabi finish the job. maybe, by killing shoto, touya would finally be free of whatever he had weighing on him. get rid of the thing that replaced him.

it had been on todoroki’s mind since he woke up. the truth would rage through the world like wildfire. endeavor would be scorned. shoto would forever been stuck in the shadow of his failures. he’d never be free—never—

sero grabs his hand.

sero watches as todoroki grimaces, turns his face away. he watches as todoroki starts to guard himself, starts to clam up—

todoroki pulls his hand free.

“sho—“

“you should go,” todoroki hisses. even as he speaks them, he regrets every word. it all comes out wrong and harsh, rough around the edges.

what he doesn’t say is: you’re too good for me, hanta. why can’t you see that? why can’t you see i’ll only ever weigh you down? my family’s a disaster, i’m a mess, and you’re—you’re you.

there’s a pause. the air is heavy. sero’s hand is cold. he watches as todoroki avoids his gaze, as more tears well in his eyes. nothing feels real.

“you—what?”

“hanta,” todoroki whispers. “go. please.”

and it’s like the world is ending, all over again. if he hadn’t been sitting, sero might have collapsed at the knees again. he wonders briefly if his ears need to get checked, if he heard him correctly, if the world really is ending.

and to make it so much worse, todoroki says, “you deserve better, dammit.” his voice barely raises a single octave. “don't want you getting dragged down because of me. ‘cause of my family.”

he says me like it’s poison on his tongue.

todoroki pulls into himself completely, pulling entirely out of sero’s orbit, leaving the room icy and feeling nearly empty. sero isn’t sure exactly what he’s feeling, but he knows it must be something close to anger. his brows knit together as he tries to keep a tight leash on his emotions, but sometimes even hanta sero loses control.

sero stands so fast his vision blurs for half a second. todoroki looks meek and small beneath him, hands clamped together, eyes dull and face wrapped up. sero’s heart beats all the way down to his toes, the room closing in on him slowly. it’s iciness seeps into his bones, fear and anger and confusion simmering in his veins.

“you’re out of your goddamn mind if you think i’m gonna let you shove me away so easily,” sero cuts out, ignoring the bewildered look on todoroki’s face. “i know you’re hurting, shoto. and i know you're strong, but you don’t have to do this on your own.” sero unclenches his fists but god, his chest feels tight. “we’re just kids, dammit! you don’t have to carry all this weight, just let me help you. let me be here for you!”

“hanta—“

“i’m here because i—“ you know, sho, i really— “because i care about you.”

the room seemed to shrink in that very short time period, sero’s chest heaving with all the things he didn’t say, all the things he wanted to say, all the things he wanted to do. he’d spent nearly every single day in the past year-ish by todoroki’s side, training, laughing, sharing manga. he’d grown close to someone who seemed so untouchable when he first met him. sero got to be there as todoroki brought down his own walls, came out of his own shell, became someone todoroki himself could be proud of.

and now this idiot wanted to push sero away? because he deserves better? because todoroki didn’t want sero to see the ugly truth of his family history? because todoroki thought he himself was too much for sero?

“just trying to protect you,” todoroki mutters, not daring to look away from sero’s face. not yet. “i’ll only—“

“don’t—“ sero snaps. “don’t say it. you know it’s not true. you know it isn’t.”

todoroki finally breaks eye contact, gaze dropping to his hands. his shoulders heave as he takes a shaky breath. if he could just get it into hanta’s thick skull that he hung the stars, that he was a god send, an angel on earth, that todoroki was unworthy and undeserving of someone like him—

todoroki doesn’t have time to reel in the tears as they start to fall. slowly at first, then all at once like the dam had finally broken. sero is at his side in an instant, like todoroki hadn’t just told him to leave, like todoroki didn't just try to make it obvious he’s undeserving of someone as kind and caring as sero. and here sero is, further proving that point as he sits carefully on the bed and gently takes todoroki’s face in his hands, fingers ghosting over bandages. the touch is searing and unbearable and not enough all at once.

“‘m sorry,” todoroki chokes out. “sorry, sorry. hanta—“

sero lifts todoroki’s face ever so slowly, and todoroki finally sees the redness of his dark eyes, the bottom lashes clumped together from a cry that might have happened just before he got here. todoroki can’t seem to get a handle on his own tears, can’t seem to reel in his uneven breathing, can’t seem to stamp out the shaking nerves dancing up his arms. grief rages inside him, grief and guilty and that same achy breaky loneliness todoroki hadn’t felt in so many months.

“please, shoto,” sero whispers, so close todoroki can’t even breathe. “everything is a mess right now but please. let me stay by your side. don't—“ his throat catches, “—don't shut me out, okay?”

“someday you’re gonna realize you don’t have to carry the weight of the universe all on your own, todoroki.”

“sero—“

sunset colors begin to pour in through cracked curtains, washing them in gentle warmth. sero’s gaze doesn’t waver, his touch doesn’t disappear. he’s light and he’s holy—pure and too kind. todoroki wraps hesitant hands around sero’s wrists, trying his hardest to reign in his tears. he lets their foreheads press together slowly, carefully.

promises are made, confessions stay unspoken. todoroki doesn’t let go, not again, not ever.

—

[perksofhs]

“Baby you know I love you right?”

Hi lovelies! Here is my first request piece! I originally posted this ages ago but it seemed to be blocked and wasn’t viewable in tags. Anyway enjoy! Xx

He’d started feeling ill a few days before Christmas Eve, a sniffly nose, sore throat, hot and cold sweats and a fever leading to the conclusion that he had in fact come down with a rather bad flu. He was nuzzled under a mound of blankets that every couple of hours would be thrown off at the onset of a hot sweat even though he knew he’d be freezing in about 10 minutes and have to pull them all back up. He was surrounded by an ever growing number of used tissues and half empty cold and flu medicine packets. You’d been there the whole time insisting that you loved being the care taker for him like he’d done multiple times for you in the 10 months you’d been together. And it was true, plus he was cute when he was sick, he was super cuddly, wanting nothing but you to be next to him holding him close. You knew getting sick yourself was inevitable but you really couldn’t care less, he needed you and you relished in it.

“You need to eat more than that, two spoonfuls isn’t enough” you said, trying to get him to have at least another few mouthfuls of the soup you had prepared but he refused like a stubborn child. “C’mon its pumpkin, your favourite, please baby have some more, I promise it will make you feel better” he huffed and cautiously pushed himself up into a sitting position “Hm fine i’ll have some more, but only because I love you”. “I love you too, plus you want to be better for Christmas Day, being sick on Christmas is the worst. Eat up buttercup! I’m going to duck to the shop and grab a few things to finish out the Christmas shopping before it gets crazy over the next few days. That better be gone when I get back” you said giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “Ok, can you get me some more tissues and cough drops? My throat is still killing me” he said with a pout “Ok baby I’ll add them to the list, I’ll be back in an hour or so, don’t forget to drink water, and take another cold and flu, the last one will be starting to wear off soon an-” “I think I can handle it babe, just go!” Harry laughed, urging you to get out the door. “Fine! Fine! I’m going! Love you baby” you responded, grabbing your keys and twirling your scarf around your neck before opening the door and bracing the brisk December air.

You’d come home about 2 hours later, trudging inside struggling slightly with the 6 bags of last minute Christmas supplies and a few gifts. You walked down the hallway, dropping the bags on the kitchen island with thud. “Baby how are you feeling? Did you take your cold and flu?” you said, walking into the lounge only to be met with a very asleep Harry, cuddled deep into his blanket nest, messy curls stuck to his slightly sweaty forehead. You placed a soft kiss on his forehead before puling the blankets up slightly, doing your best to gently tuck him in. The room was a mess so you grabbed a spare plastic bag and started tidying the mess. Amongst the tissues, medicine and cough drop wrappers strewn across the coffee table was his leather bound journal, wide open with the a pen resting in the the middle of the two papers. As you reached across to grab the rubbish that surrounded it, you couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of what was freshly written in the journal. What you read made your heart sink, “I really do love her, please don’t let this be another failed relationship where the love is only from one side again. I don’t think I could handle another broken heart at Christmas. I need her to love me too”. It took you a moment to process those words. Why would he ever think that you weren’t truly in love with him? When he’d said ‘I love you’ you’d said it right back, tears in your eyes, no hesitation or questioning whether you loved him back because it was so obvious that you did. You knew his last couple of relationships didn’t end well but you had no idea that his heart had been broken once or maybe twice at what was meant to be the most magical time of the year.

The sound of Harry starting to stir awake snapped you out of your thoughts, quickly swiping the last few tissues into the bag, flipping the journal closed as if you’d read nothing. Although you couldn’t hide the sadness in your face, the fact that you were on the verge of tears was all too evident. “Mmm you’re back” Harry mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yep, got everything done, all ready for Christmas day now.” you tried to brush off what you’d just found out but your voice was every so slightly wavering. “Babe are you ok?” He said, reaching out to grab your free hand, stopping you from trying to walk away. A tear slid down your cheek at his words, you frantically tried to wipe it away and brush it off “Yeah yeah I’m fine” you assured but he wasn’t that stupid. “No you’re not, what happened? Did something happen while you were out? Are you hurt?” he worried about you going out by yourself now that your relationship was known to the world. Your features softened, you debated with yourself on whether to mention what you’d just read, on one hand it’s a massive invasion of privacy and it was obviously not meant for your eyes to see but you also needed him to understand that you were committed, fully, to this relationship, to him. “Baby you know I love you right? No ifs ands or buts, I really truly love you” you said, finalising your decision, not answering the questions he’d posed. For a moment he looked completely confused, the sudden profession of your love for him taking him by surprise but then it clicked and his eyes flicked across to his journal.

His expression changed to one of guilt. “Did I do something that made you question it? Do I not show it enough? I don’t know what else I can do!” you said, kneeling down to his level, taking his hands into yours, him gripping them tighter than he ever had. “No baby its nothing you did, I’ve just had so many failed relationships that I can’t turn my brain off when it starts questioning things. You know it was around Christmas two years ago that my last proper relationship broke down?” He was nearly crying, his already red eyes welling up. You knew his last girlfriend was a piece of work but you never imagined she’d be that heartless, especially at Christmas. “Harry I had no idea” you said, placing your hands on his cheeks, lifting his tired sad eyes to meet your similarly watery ones “I can promise you though, right here right now, that that will never happen with me. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. Not only have you added to my life in the most positive way but you have changed me for the better. You helped me realise my worth. You are the most kind, most genuine, most loving partner I have ever have and ever intend on having because you are my end zone Harry. There is no doubt in my mind that you are my person and you shouldn’t have any doubt either. I love you H, and I will forever.” The tears were rolling down his cheeks, as they were yours, a watery smile on his lips. You pulled in him, placing your lips ever so gently on his, solidifying the words that you’d just said. His hands rose to your cheeks, wiping away your tears. “Thank you” is all he could manage to say. “Thank you for what?” you enquired, puzzled by his response. “Thank you for loving me, for loving me entirely. I love you so much” he said before pulling you up into the warmest hug. You smiled, finally content with him knowing that there was never a need to be insecure, you loved him and he loved you and that was that.

You pulled away from the hug, sniffing back the rest of the tears “Ok now that we’ve got that all sorted, have you taken your cold and flu? You’re feeling a little warm” he couldn’t help but chuckle at you getting straight back into carer mode. “I did take them and I ate all of my soup I promise, all I want right now is for you to stay here with me, I need a proper cuddle.” You laughed, happily obliging, plopping yourself down next to him, his arms wrapping themselves securely around your waist with yours around his neck “I love you baby” you said, pecking a kiss to his slightly sweaty neck “I love you too baby, so much” he said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before closing his eyes contently asking himself what he ever did to deserve any of this.

This is another instalment of the ‘The Words you Speak’ series, I’d normally put the link but putting links seems to have been what stopped this post from being viewable so just click on my profile and the Masterlist link is at the top! xx

[longitud-de-onda]

on my mind

pairing; javier peña x female reader summary; you’re trying to have a peaceful night in when javier brings home yet another informant, and while you brace yourself to hear the noises all night, you’re surprised to hear something else. rating; t warnings; strangling, medical inacurracies probably, some angst? idk it doesn’t feel super angsty to me but y’all’ll probably think it is word count; 2.4k requested; by anon “You are his next door neighbor and friend. At night, you often hear his escapades through the wall. One night, things sound more like a fight than sex. You aren't sure what to do. You have a key to his apartment. You sneak in to see what is going on. Javi's informant is strangling him with his tie for real. She runs away, Javi regains consciousness, & tells you that he thought he was going to die and the only thing he could think about was that he never told you he loves you.”

Javier fucking Peña. You’re gonna kill the man since this is the fifth time this week he’s brought a girl home and it’s only Wednesday and it’s 8pm and you want to relax after a long day. You can hear them coming up the stairs outside the building, the loud Spanish obscenities spilling from their lips in the hallway, the jingling of the keys as they enter his apartment.

He’s been doing it since you got to Colombia all those years ago, but it never ceases to hurt. Doesn’t he know how much noise he and all the women he has over make? Doesn’t he know how thin the walls are, that if they and you are in the right rooms in your respective apartments, you can hear every last word they say?

You’ve been Javier’s partner for what now feels like forever. And at some point between hiding behind walls during drug busts and the thrilling car chases through Bogotá, you fell in love.

Sometimes you wonder why you haven’t made a move. There are times when he grins at you after breaking a case or finding a lead and your heart soars, nights out drinking at bars, days where you’re on the hunt and you have each other’s backs when you wonder if maybe he feels the same. 

But you have to be reminded multiple times a week that your job relies on him fucking multiple women for valuable information, loudly.

He’s even gone so far as to offer you a night in bed with him. Multiple times. Those days are the worst. You know it would only be a one night stand and if you said yes it would break your heart.

So you settle for loving him from afar. You respect him enough to know that your feelings would only ruin things. If how he is is what makes him happy, then who are you to stop him?

You walk over to your bedroom to grab your walkman and try to drown out the sounds that will inevitably begin, hope you’ll be able to curl up on your couch and read the book you’ve been trying to start.

It takes all of three minutes for the sound of whatever is happening to breach the weak plastic of your headphones and you groan.

This is really the last straw. It’s been such a long day and Javier only made it worse by letting his hand linger a little longer than was considered friendly when handing you your coffee this morning and taking you out to lunch just to get out of the building. And then he had the nerve to leave early so that he could meet an informant, and you were stuck finishing up the paperwork, only to return home to the same sounds you were hearing now, finishing up.

You throw your headphones off and stand up. You were going to storm over and give Javier a piece of your mind when you hear something that is distinctively not sexual. It sounds like they’re fighting, there are some thumps on the floor that cannot feel good and you think you even hear something shatter.

You almost lunge over your dinner table to grab your handgun, and exit your apartment, quietly slipping over to his door, hoping he left his door unlocked. You try the handle and it glides right open. Leave it to Javier to forget to lock it in the heat of things.

You thank everything working in your favor that Javier has an entry hallway and you’re able to enter the apartment, back pressed against the wall, unnoticed. You slide closer, and the fighting has quieted. There’s no longer any human noises, just the sound of grappling, and that could definitely be sex and you really don’t want to walk in on that, but you assume the worst, Javier could really be in danger.

You peak around the corner and you freeze up. Javier is on the floor, some woman has her hand gripped around his tie and is pulling, hard, from behind. His face is bright red and a bit puffy and you notice he is unconscious.

“Hey!” you yell, pointing your gun at her, and she startles, dropping the tie, and Javier’s body flops to the ground.

You stare blankly at the limp body of your partner, which gives the woman enough time to slip out of the open window to the balcony, and you watch as she jumps over the railing, only a few feet to the ground below from the first-floor apartment.

She shouldn’t have gotten away. You could have shot her. You know that. But your breathing is shaky and you still are holding your gun up at the window, seconds after she’s gone, staring at Javier.

You finally come to and rush to the ground beside him, kneeling by his head. He can’t be dead. He just can’t be. You let out a sob and your throat is tight and pained with the oncoming tears. If Javier is dead? You don’t dare to think about what you would do.

You pull his arm into your hand, searching for a pulse, and upon finding it, you let yourself relax for a brief moment, before peeling off the tie from his neck. His skin is red and marred with a thick ring of abrasions from the rough fabric, and there are some frantic scratches on either side, suggesting he had further injured himself trying to get out.

You reach out a hand to touch the wounds, gasping as you feel how hot his skin is.

Javier sputters under your touch, his eyes springing open and coughing a few times until he calms down.

“Javi!” you exhale, “Javi, holy shit, I thought you were dead.”

He’s gasping for air, and you help him up, dragging his body over to the floor beside the couch, propping his back up against it.

You know he’s going to need treatment for the wounds on his neck, and you jump to your feet, rushing over to the kitchen. You open the freezer and push things around until you find an icepack and then throw open some cabinets, searching for some sort of pain medication. There. Inside one of the cabinets lies a few bottles of pills alongside a pitiful looking box of bandaids.

You bring the two items back to the living room where Javier is taking shallow breaths, and you sink to the ground next to him. The bottle is placed on the coffee table and you grab his hand and bring it and the ice pack to his neck, helping him hold it in place.

“Javi, when you’re ready, these pills are on the table here, you should take them,” you say.

“Y/N.” It’s the first word he’s said since you entered the apartment and you exhale shakily while managing to break a smile. He leans his head back on the couch, looking at the ceiling. “If you hadn’t come, I’d be—I’d—”

“Javi, don’t say that,” you say, “You’re okay now. That’s what matters.”

He brings his head back up and turns to look at you. You can feel his gaze but you really don’t know what to do. What to say. You look at the ground, waiting for something.

That something comes after almost five minutes of silence.

“If you think you can swallow you should try to take some pain meds,” you say.

“It doesn’t hurt much,” he says, voice hoarse. You know he’s lying.

“Still.”

Javier reaches forward to grab the bottle, sets down the ice pack, unscrews the cap and pours a pill into his palm. After swallowing, he replaces the ice on his neck, wincing at the contact.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask.

You want to say so much. You want to be mad at him. Mad that he got himself into this goddamn mess. But you can’t. All you can think about is how lost you would be if he hadn’t made it. How scared you had been, seeing him unconscious on the floor. The last time you had spoken with Javier about him doing this, about sleeping with the informants, it hadn’t gone well, and after today? You regretted every word you had said.

“Javi, you can’t keep sleeping with people to get information,” you said, slamming your hands on the desk after he brought up speaking with a fourth prostitute that week who he said would have valuable intel on one of Escobar’s sicarios.

“It works,” he shook his head, continuing to pack up his things.

“It works, but at what cost?” you threw up your hands, hoping it would emphasize your point, but Javier wasn’t even looking. “If someone finds out?”

“Tell me our most valuable leads haven’t resulted from it?” he said and he was right. Most anything of substance had come (quite literally) from Javier fucking them. But that didn’t mean you had to be okay with it.

“What if one of them knows what you’re doing? They get paid to get close to you? Try to take you out or something?” you said, voice getting dangerously loud.

“God, Y/N, you don’t have to be such a stickler for the rules, we’ve broken enough already. And I only do it with the women I trust,” he said, now at the door to your office about to leave.

“Fine, go fuck whoever you like, just don’t come running to me for help when you get hurt,” you said.

It had been four months since you had that conversation, but the irony of it all didn’t escape you. You felt bad after saying it but you feel even worse now.

“Please stay,” Javier croaks out beside you.

You nod. “Okay.”

As much as it hurts to sit next to him tonight, you can’t deny him anything. Not tonight.

It’s quiet for a while. You bring one leg up to your chest and with one hand trace little circles into the carpet.

“I thought I was going to die,” he says. He drops the ice pack in his lap. “The only thing I could think of was that I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to tell the woman I love how much she matters to me.”

Now it’s your turn to throw your head back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. You blink a few times, realizing there are tears in the corners and you don’t know where they came from. You had gotten good at pushing your feelings away, but now, knowing that Javier had almost died? You don’t know what you would do if you had lost him. Life without Javier? It would probably break you.

And then there’s this woman he’s speaking of and you don’t know what to think of it, because Javier? In love with a woman? Singular? That wasn’t anything you had heard of. You couldn’t picture him falling for someone, wanting to spend a life with her. But you supposed it made sense. In the face of death, people realize exactly what they want in life.

It had happened to you, a couple times. Almost anyone in the field here in Colombia had those moments. Bullets flying inches from your face. Explosions where you’re caught only a few feet away from being fatally injured. Falls through unstable flooring in the apartments in the poorest parts of Bogotá. For you, those moments reminded you how important certain people were.

You didn’t have much family back home, no one significant enough to worry about, that’s why you took such a dangerous job so far from the States. But you remember waking up in the hospital a year ago, a bullet having grazed your side. Your final memories before blacking out were the feeling of warm blood pouring out across your stomach and Javier’s face. Javier, who was stuck in Bogotá for the week as you risked your life in Medellín.

“Maybe you shouldn’t waste any more time and tell her,” you say.

God knows you regretted not telling him. It was for the best, you knew. Javier wasn’t exactly the sort of guy to settle down. And the pain of rejection wouldn’t be as bad as the dull ache of seeing him every day afterwards. But if Javier loved someone? And she didn’t know? She deserved to know how much she mattered to him. That she was important enough to be the face he saw before he thought he would die.

“I don’t know,” he says, and you look over at him, brow furrowed. “She doesn’t think very highly of me.”

“How could she not think highly of you, Javi?” you say. You think the world of him, but there were plenty of reasons why someone might not. It’s not the moment to bring those up.

“It’s you, Y/N.”

You blink. Javier likes you?

“I know,” he continues, “I know you don’t—and you don’t have to—fuck. I don’t want to make this awkward”

“No,” you breathe, staring at him and shaking your head, “I—Me?”

You can’t believe what Javier had said. That all this time you were sitting on your feelings for each other, not saying anything.

“Yes, you,” he says, “Since day one, you’ve been the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And you’re 100% there for everyone we work with. You care about people. You came rushing in today to save me even when you didn’t have to, when I didn’t deserve it. You said all that stuff, and you were right, but you still came—”

“I had to, Javi, I—I care about to you, too.” you say, “I couldn’t let you get hurt. I couldn’t lose you... I love you.”

Javier reaches an arm up to cup your cheek. Every inhale and exhale feels slower than ever before. His face has softened, a faint smile crosses his lips, more than his usual stern expressions ever allow, and there’s a certain something in his eyes, a glistening, and you bite your lip instinctively. And that’s when he leans in to take your lips in his own, and you, sinking into him, climb to your knees so that you can wrap an arm around his waist and intertwine your other hand into his hair.

It’s perfect until it isn’t as Javier jolts away with a noise that sounds painful and you jump back.

“Are you okay?” you’re back into panic mode, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I, uh.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I think I got too into it, moved my neck too much.”

“Do you need—”

“No, Y/N, I don’t need anything. I’m fine. I just, I need you,” he admits.

“Me too,” you say and sit back down next to him, leaning your head against his shoulder and reaching down, grabbing his hand, and interlocking his fingers with yours.

taglist; @pascalisthepunkest​ @turquiosenights @el-lizzie​ @sparrows-books​ @dxxkxx​ @opheliaelysia​ (edit: i completely forgot to tag @letaliabane​ i’m so sorry my document with my taglists was all messed up)

[idreamofplaid]

Fallen - Chapter 2

Summary: Sam thought he had found happiness, but now his past is back to haunt him. Lucifer has claimed the throne of heaven, and it is his intention that Sam should finally fulfill his destiny as King of Hell.

Characters: Sam x Reader; Dean; Ruby

Word Count: 2621

Warnings: Non Con; Heavy Angst

A/N: This is a series I started some time ago. It has become the first in a project I’ve taken on that I’m calling “Finish the Series”. Each chapter of this one is based on a song. The song for Chapter 2 is “Hallelujah” by Rufus Wainwright. 

I’ve heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord

Reader’s POV

The pain you felt was sharp and stunning in its intensity. In this moment, the love you felt for Sam was tearing you apart. You put your hand over your still unchanged stomach and thought about the baby there, the baby you couldn’t feel yet but already loved. You carried a child that, for now, was yours alone.

You moved your fingers lightly over your abdomen trying hard to process what you had just seen. Could you ever forget how Sam looked with another woman’s hand down the front of his pants? Could you forget how he reacted to what she was doing to him?

A wave of nausea came over you; you sat down, leaned your back against a tree, and hoped it would pass.

Well it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift

Dean had been silent since Sam and Ruby first emerged from the barn. He had been so quiet, crouched next to you in your hiding place, you’d almost forgotten he was there until he held your hair back from your face when you got sick. It was a few minutes before you sat back against the tree again. Dean pulled a black and white bandana from his back pocket and handed it to you. It felt soft and worn in your hand as you gingerly blotted your mouth with it. When you were done, Dean reached in another pocket and pulled out a wrapped peppermint. He held it out to you.

The plastic crinkled in your fingers when you took the little piece of candy. “Do you always carry these?”

“No. Mint settles your stomach. Thought it might help. Your morning sickness has been pretty bad.”

You opened the mint and slipped it into your mouth. The clean sweetness of the candy was welcome on your tongue. “How do you know what mint does, Dean?”

“Researching ingredients for spells, you learn a lot of things.” Dean worked his bottom lip. “Y/N, I know that looked bad. Really bad.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “He just... he wouldn’t turn his back on you. I know it. Sam wouldn’t do that.”

Your eyes glazed over, and your voice came out weak and broken; the sound of the wind blowing through the trees almost drowned out your words. “He did it to you. Because of her.”

Dean covered your hand with his. “That’s different, Y/N. Listen to me. Sam is in love with you. Forever kind of love. I don’t know what that was, but it damn sure wasn’t what it looked like. Sam’s stronger now than he was before. And smarter. There’s nothing she could do to make Sam forget you. Not a damn thing.”

“I wish I could believe that, Dean. Addiction makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do.” You stared hard at the empty candy wrapper in your hand. “I know I threw a fit to come with you, but I don’t want to go in there. I can’t. I can’t see what’s in there.”

Dean let go of your hand. He looked at you, and then dropped his eyes quickly from yours. When he looked back at you, his expression was steady and determined. “I’m going in there to get Sam, and I’m going to kill that bitch...again. So dead, she’s going to stay that way.”

The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Sam’s POV

I wanted Ruby to just stop talking. For the past three weeks, she’d gone on and on about me taking over the reins of hell as the new king and how strong I’d be. Every time she talked about me taking over the throne, it was accompanied by her pawing all over me and pumping me full of more demon blood. Her hands on me brought back all kinds of memories I’d kept buried so deep they couldn’t hurt me. I didn’t know if I could deal with them if I let them come to the surface.

I couldn’t push them aside now. The guilt was the worst. I’d started the apocalypse because I believed her lies. I’d needed her. Not out of choice, but because there wasn’t anything else. Everything is different now, but my body doesn’t know that. I got hard, and she loved it. She enjoyed the fact I couldn’t control it, couldn’t stop it from happening.

She was grinding on me now. “Sam, you’re everything I remember, only better. Aren’t you ready to show me just how much better?”

She closed her hand around my cock and started to stroke. There was evil in her eyes. I should have seen it before. Her hand got faster, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn’t going to come. That, I could control. I refused to give her the satisfaction.

Her hand was pistoning on me, and her expression was filled with malice. She was going to try to wring the orgasm out of me. “You can’t fight me forever, Sam. You are going to give in. This is what you’re meant for.” I clenched my teeth hard. “I won’t let my Lord down, Sam. I will make you into who he wants you to be. I will deliver you to Lucifer strong, ruthless, and ready to be a king.”

I felt a resolution inside me sharper than any I’d felt before. “I’ll never be who you want me to be. Don’t you get it? This isn’t me. The part of me that matters is still in that bunker with Y/N. And you can never have it.”

Ruby’s eyes flashed fury before they went black. “That’s it, Sam. I’m done playing nice.” She flung my still hard dick out of her hand, grabbed a syringe filled with demon blood, jabbed it into my arm, and pushed the plunger down.

I thought I had won, but she pushed my open jeans down my hips. My erection was standing out over the top of my boxer briefs. “You’d better start fucking me, Sam, unless you want to find out all the fun things I can use to fuck that little slut of yours.”

I closed my eyes against the battle raging inside me. Your face was stuck in my head, smiling and beautiful the way I remembered. I reached out and grabbed her waist with my hands. Then I let them fall. I couldn’t do it. She wrapped her hand around the base of my dick and squeezed while she rolled my balls in her other hand. I was so hard it hurt. “No. Don’t.”

“Is that your final answer, Sam?”

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I kept my eyes closed. I wasn’t going to look at her. Any second now, she was going to sink down on me. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. “Sammy!”

My eyes flew open. “Dean!?”

Dean was pointing a gun at her, his eyes full of rage. “Make one more move on my brother, you hell whore, and I’ll change my mind about killing you fast.”

Dean had been carving devil’s traps into bullets again. He took one shot at Ruby, and she fell to the floor immobilized. The last thing I remember before I blacked out was Dean sinking the demon blade into her.

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof

Reader’s POV

When you walked into Sam’s room, he was sitting on the side of his bed. His shoulders were slumped, and his forearms were propped on his legs. He sat up when he saw you. His expression was strained and his eyes looked tired. You knew his back between his shoulder blades was filled with knots. You’d loosened them up so many times after a hunt, massaging and rubbing your hands over all the tight places until he melted beneath your touch.

The urge to go to him was strong, but the uncertainty was stronger. Dean had explained to you that Sam wouldn’t start withdrawal from the blood for another few hours, but that wasn’t what scared you the most. Sam started to smile when he saw you, then stopped. He bowed his head, and you watched his hair fall over his cheek.

Sam’s voice was quiet. “Will you come closer?” He looked back at you, and you took a deep breath as you searched his eyes. “I won’t touch you. I just...don’t want...to forget how you smell.” He dropped his head again.

You could feel tears stinging the back of your eyes. You took three steps toward him and stopped. “Sam, I...I don’t know who you are.”

He lifted his head. As he talked, tears filled his eyes. “I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I would never hurt you.”

Tears ran down your cheeks. “You did, Sam. I saw you with her, outside the barn. I saw what she did.”

Sam started shaking his head. He was crying now too. “I was faithful to you, Y/N. She wanted me to cheat; she tried to make me cheat, but I didn’t. I let her do that because she threatened you, and I had to keep you safe.”

Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you

You closed the distance between you and stood before him. You brushed the hair back from his face, and Sam looked up at you, tears still in his eyes. “Please believe me, Y/N.”

You’d picked up the habit of wearing layers from Sam and Dean. You slipped out of your over shirt and held it out to Sam. He took it from you, tightening his fingers around it. “I love you, Sam, but until you’re sober; I don’t know what’s true.”

You backed out of the room. Sam watched every step. As soon as the door closed behind you, you collapsed against it.

She tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne, and she cut your hair

It had been going on for two days. You hovered outside the door listening to Sam calling your name. He didn’t sound mad, just alone and in pain. Dean had been careful to put Sam in a room far away from yours while he detoxed, but no distance between you could stop you from hearing Sam’s voice in your head.

You were outside the room now, on the floor with your back against the wall, listening to Sam’s cries. Dean came walking down the hall carrying a bottle of Gatorade and a straw. He stopped when he got to where you were sitting. “You okay?”

“Dean, how long is he gonna be like this?” You could hear Sam moaning on the other side of the door. Dean contemplated the bottle in his hand pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and dragging his teeth across it as he released it. “I can’t take much more, Dean.”

Dean gentled his voice. “He doesn’t have as much blood in him as last time. If.... I don’t know, Y/N. I just don’t know.”

Baby, I’ve been here before; I’ve seen this room, and I’ve this floor

Sam’s POV

My mouth was dry and another cramp was twisting through my stomach. My hands were shaking, but I held onto the shirt you gave me. I pressed it against my face and breathed in. It smelled like vanilla and some kind of flower. You. “Y/N. Y/N!” You wouldn’t hear me. If you could, I’d tell you how sorry I am and beg you to forgive me. I’m a junkie again. Regardless of why I did it, it got me here. Without you. I closed my eyes and curled into a ball holding onto all of you I had, your shirt and my memories.

Love is not a victory march; it’s a cold, and it’s a broken hallelujah

Two Months Earlier

I was pulling at your bottom lip, kissing you, wanting you. The taste of you and the sweet sounds you were making filled me up with wanting you. I pushed my tongue deeper into your mouth; you moved under me, and I felt myself get harder. Your skin against mine was warm, soft. Touching you filled me with the promise and the hope that we’d have this always.

You lifted your hips, and I knew you were ready. I pushed into you a little at a time. Your muscles tightened around me, and my breath caught in my throat. You gave yourself to me, and I lost myself in you. I came that night whispering, “I love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I opened my eyes to stare at a brick wall in a room that wasn’t mine, in a bed you’d never been in. Your shirt was still in my hands. I brought it to my nose, smelled it again, and closed my eyes willing my dream to be real again.

The Holy Dove was moving too, and every breath we drew was hallelujah

Reader’s POV

You sat in the middle of the bed in Sam’s room with the blankets wrapped around you making a cocoon that was a feeble attempt to block out reality. This room was where you’d known your greatest joy. It was the place where you and Sam had slept in each other’s arms, where you had woken up to his smile, and where he’d first told you he loved you. It was where you had conceived your child.

You ran your hand over his pillow, remembering. It wasn’t hard to picture him there, golden skin against the white sheets. It wasn’t hard to remember the sound of his breathing, steady and peaceful. You saw his hazel eyes every time you closed your own.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You clutched the blankets to your chest, bracing yourself for whatever was about to happen. “Come in.”

Maybe there’s a god above

Dean looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Maybe he hadn’t. “Y/N, I think you should see Sam. He’s too weak now to do anything that could hurt you. We might be losing him.”

“No, Dean, no.” You shook your head, held onto the blankets, and the tears came again.

It’s not a cry you hear at night...it’s a cold, and it’s a broken hallelujah

Nothing could have prepared you for how Sam looked. Helpless wasn’t a word you would have ever used to describe Sam, but that’s how he looked now. You sat down next to him and gently pushed his damp hair off his forehead. His skin was hot to the touch. The fever had made him almost non responsive.

“Y/N?” Sam tried to raise his hand; it fell back down on the bed.

You took his hand in yours. “I’m here, Sam. I’m here.” You stroked your thumb across his cheek in an attempt to comfort him. “Dean, he needs new clothes. Bring me some. Second drawer in his chest on the right side. And bring some water and a washcloth.”

It didn’t take Dean long to return with the things you’d asked for. He helped you undress Sam so you could bathe him. The only sound Sam made was a soft whimper. When he was dressed in fresh clothes, Dean left you alone with him.

You took Sam’s hand in yours again. “Sam, please hear me. Come back to me. I love you, and I need you. We’re going to have a baby, Sam.” You raised his hand to your lips and kissed it. “Come back to us.” You put his hand down by his side, and brushed his hair back from his forehead. One of your tears landed on his cheek. “Sam?”

Everything Forever: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @hella-aj-the-tricksters-son @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @maddiepants @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @iknowwheremytowelis @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything 

Sam/Jared Love: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @theychosefamily @winchesterxfamilybusiness @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @i-joined-social-media-finally @wingledsam @autumninavonlea @spnxbsessed @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @wendibird @fantasy-shadows @team-free-will-you-idjiot @waywardnerd67 @neii3n @fullmooner @supernatural-took-me-over​ @julesthequirky​ 

[greenygreenland]

Birds of a Feather Pt 1: (platonic) Scrooge McDuck & Reader

-i usually do star wars buuuuuut I'm becoming multi-fandom

-the original was deleted

-thanks a LOT technology. Three hours of hard work, down the drain

-comments will really help my mood, so please tell me if you like this

-happy father's day

Important note: You’re cursed with immortality, so you’re forever the age 15

Summary:

Scrooge has been hiding a secret from you for over two decades. You two argue and your relationship becomes rocky.

A week before

(Y/n) was seething in anger. Her chest heaved and her fingers curled into fists so tight that Scrooge worried she’d draw blood. “Twenty--no, thirty something years, Uncle Scrooge. I can’t believe you’ve hid this from me since the day you found me half-dead! How--how dare you?” 

Scrooge couldn’t stand the way (Y/n) was looking at him. Her eyes were ablaze, filled with hatred and sorrow he could not place into words. Seeing (Y/n), the girl who wasn’t so little anymore, look at him like that made his battered heart burst into little pieces. “(Y/n), I didn’t mean to--”

“No, I don’t want to hear it! You told me my family was dead! You said that I was the only one who survived that assassination.” (Y/n) stuffed a pair of trousers into her suitcase and zipped it shut. “You lied to me for decades! Why?” Scrooge’s lips withered into a frown. “I was trying to protect you!”

“’Protect me’?” (Y/n) echoed. She heaved her suitcase onto its quad wheels with a scowl. “Oh yes, because the wee little duckling who knows martial arts needs help despite surviving countless near-death experiences, adventures as your side-kick, and defeating archenemies. Yes, yes, I’m powerless, aren’t I?” Scrooge’s brows knitted together. He knew full-well that (Y/n) could take care of herself. She survived being stuck on an island as well, being swallowed by a gold-hunting dragon, and so many other things that could have ended her life for good. 

But this? It wasn’t that Scrooge thought she was weak. No, no. It was only that he knew she couldn’t handle the truth. The Eider family were an absolute nightmare. Besides the fact that they were abusive, they were greedier than the greediest ducks, and more power-hungry than the worst of kings. They believed themselves to be the best of the best (which in itself was not a lie), but because of their arrogance, their enemies spread father than the deepest oceans.

Funnily enough, that was what got (Y/n)’s parents killed.

She was a smart lass, Scrooge gave her that, but the one thing she could never seem to do was let them go. During the years Scrooge hid the true story from her, she never gave up in researching and looking into what happened to her parents. It was as if that were the only reason she existed. 

And now that she knew the truth, Scrooge worried what she’d do when she actually got back in contact with her family. Although it looked like she forgave them for ruining her life, abusing her, and for being absolute blockheads, it was clear as daylight to him that she held a deep grudge against her family. “You’re not going back to them are you?” he quietly inquired. 

(Y/n)’s glare made him feel as though he were the dust on an old book. “Guess again, Scroogey.” His expression hardened and the air thickened like jam. “Lass, you are not going back there.” (Y/n) made her way to the door, a tight frown on her face. “I don’t have to listen to you, liar.” 

Scrooge’s jaw unhinged. “I’m your guardian!” 

“Only because my parents died.” 

His shoulders tensed and he slammed the door shut. “You listen here and you listen well!” He yanked (Y/n) away from the door. “Me lying will never compare to how terrible your family treated you. You want the truth so bad? Well, your rubbish aunt hired a hit man to assassinate your parents! There! That’s the truth! Are you happy now?” (Y/n) slapped Scrooge’s hand off her shoulder, but he didn’t pay any mind. 

The two had a silent stare-off that may have lasted for an hour if it weren’t for the knock on the door. “(Y/n)?” Scrooge eyed the door as (Y/n) made her way towards it. She cracked it open just enough to peek out at the little girl before her. “Sorry Webby, I can’t play right now. I’m a bit...”

“Busy?”

“Yeah.” (Y/n) offered an apologetic smile, to which Webby frowned and twiddled her thumbs to. “Okay then. I’ll be in my room.” She made her way down the hall. “Alone.” (Y/n) frowned. “I’m sorry Webby, promise I’ll make it up to you in two weeks time. How about we get ice cream?” Webby froze, eyes wide. “You mean it?”

“Promise.” (Y/n) said. Webby smiled. “Okay.” 

Once (Y/n) was sure Webby was gone, she closed the door behind her and turned on Scrooge with a dark glare. “I’m done arguing with you. I’m leaving.” she announced. Scrooge folded his arms across his chest and seized (Y/n) by the collar. “Oh no you don’t!” He reeled her away from the door and kicked her suitcase out of her hands. “You are staying right here.”

“I’m not a kid anymore Uncle Scrooge!”

“You’re fifteen. Still a kid.”

“If you add the years after I was cursed by you--”

“It was an accident!”

“--I’m about thirty-five years old.” (Y/n) finished. Scrooge ruffled her hair with a roll of his eyes and a light-hearted chuckle. “You’ll always be my kid in my eyes. I suggest you reschedule with Webby to tomorrow.” There was a good pause before he added, “You don’t need to see your sad excuse of a family anyway. They’re nothing but trouble.”

Present

“Lauchpad, please try to stay on the road!” exclaimed (Y/n). The large man-child sped through Duckburg as if he were in a NASCAR race. Speed-bumps and pot-holes caused (Y/n) to slam into the door and Scrooge at least fives times in a row, and since he had a long day of meetings, the old man’s patience ran thin. “Eyes on the road McQuack!”

“Sorry Mr. McDee, (N/n).” 

(Y/n) wanted to be nice to Launchpad, but her stomach did flip-flops and her head ached. She should have expected this, because it was always like this, but her being her always held onto the sliver of hope that Launchpad would miraculously learn how to not crash a car. Scrooge took a good look at (Y/n), a short sigh escaping his lips. “Every dent in this car is coming out of your salary!” 

“Absolutely. Hey, hear about that crazy snow storm on the Drake Barrier Reef? I’d hate to fly into that one. You see, I’m a bit of a pilot--”

Without looking up from his newspaper, Scrooge pressed a button on the door. The glass divider slowly rolled up and forced Launchpad to keep his eyes where they should be: on the road. 

(Y/n) lied down on the seat with a sluggish frown. “I’m just gonna...close my eyes.” Either Launchpad forgot how brakes work, or he had zero brain cells left, because he continued charging through the city until he came to the manor’s gates despite Scrooge’s protests. The limo came to a screeching stop. If it weren’t for Scrooge, (Y/n) would have flown into the windscreen. 

“Why aren’t we moving?” demanded Scrooge. (Y/n) harshly swallowed and sat up. The impatient beeping of the limo’s horn didn’t help her spinning head, and neither did Scrooge’s yelling as he hopped out of the car. “Hey!” he shouted. “Jettison that jalopy from my driveway, ya deadbeat!” 

Who was he even talking to?

“Donald Duck.” 

Oh. 

“Uncle Scrooge.”

Oh.

(Y/n) didn’t care to listen to the arguing. All she wanted was a good cup of tea and a bed. 

“Jettison that jalopy from my driveway this instant, ya deadbeat!”

“Oh, here we go again, giving orders like he’s the richest duck in the world!”

“I am the richest duck in the world, now move!”

(Y/n) couldn’t take the arguing anymore. Her head spun, she felt like she’d throw up, and she really craved that cuppa probably waiting for her in the dining room. “Can you both shut up?!” A pair of footsteps made their way towards the open car door. Through the disgustingly bright sunlight, and the splitting headache, (Y/n) made out the angry face of Donald Duck.

“What did you do to her Scrooge?!” he shouted. Scrooge let out a large gasp, a clear sign he was beyond offended. “What did I do to her?! It was Launchpad’s driving!” 

There was some more chatter before three identical children piled in the limo. (Y/n) didn’t care who they were, and it seemed like the feeling with Scrooge was mutual. When the gates opened and they arrived at the front door, Mrs. Beakely scooped (Y/n) in her arms and brought her to her room. “My, my, was it Launchpad’s terrible excuse for driving again?” 

(Y/n) wordlessly nodded as Beakley set her on her bed. She poured a nice warm cup of tea and handed it to the car-sick girl. “I suggest you rest for a little before you get caught up too much excitement again.” Mrs. B. said. 

A little rest, Mrs. B. said. It would be good for you, she said. Only after waking up did (Y/n) realise she had been drugged by the one-and-only housekeeper. It was obvious she knew (Y/n) wouldn’t get a wink of sleep because she had a tendency to lay awake in bed until three in the morning, but in her eyes, that did not justify her actions, especially after all the action she missed out on. 

That morning, she stood in the dining room, PJs on and mouth agape as three identical triplets bombarded her with an arsenal of crazy questions.

"Aren't you Uncle Scrooge's famous sidekick?"

"Isn't your family crazy rich and extremely prestige?"

"How do you still look the same after so many years?"

"Botox?"

"Water from the Fountain of Youth?"

"No, plastic surgery?"

(Y/n) sent Scrooge a silent look for help, to which he shook his head with a warm smile. "Boys, don't be rude." he merrily said. "She's just cursed is all." The blue one's eyes widened, and for a second, (Y/n) thought he had chocked on his scrambled eggs. "You're cursed? How?"

"Uh..."

"Actually, I have a better question, how did you meet Uncle Scrooge?"

(Y/n) swallowed a bite of toast. Her gaze nervously snapped towards the old duck, to which he folded his newspaper shut and said, "Alright, boys. That's enough. I think it's a bit early for all these questions, especially for her. She hates mornings." (Y/n) smiled a little. "Yeah, I do." She returned her focus on the faces of the three kids. Each had large, bright eyes, extremely large smiles, and loud personalities. Which also happened to remind her of...

(Y/n) leaned over to Scrooge's ear and subtly face-palmed. "They're Della's kids, aren't they?"

"You just figured that out now?"

"I was tired, what do you expect?"

Scrooge rolled his eyes. "Besides that, we're going to Atlantis tomorrow." he nonchalantly announced. (Y/n) almost spit out her tea. "Wait, you're serious?"

He nodded, a sparkle (Y/n) hadn't seen in a while shining in his eyes. (Y/n) couldn't help but feel grateful for Scrooge. If he hadn't stopped her from seeking out her family, she'd probably be dead. (Y/n) Eider didn't belong with a bunch of prestigious, scholarly ducks. She was an adventurer, an explorer, who walked through every corner of the Earth.

But most importantly, she was Scrooge McDuck's one and only side-kick.

[rightsockjin]

Day 3

Summary: Day three rolled around with a challenge to the contestants and the producers in paradise. A thunder storm. What will happen when Y/N is terrified of thunder? Will anyone care? On another note, Y/N has gotten her first date card! Who will be the lucky man to accompany her on a fantastic date? Will it be Jungkook? Taehyung? Seokjin? Jackson? Or it could it be someone who isn’t even on the show? Will it be forever raining?

Rating: T (For mild nudity and sensual descriptions)

Word count:13,758

Hey guys so...if you’ve noticed, we have changed the entire blog to match the multi chapter story that we are currently following on the blog. This will be the norm. So the blog will be changing based on what is happening in the story every so often and there will be hints in posts and in the headers for the members on the master list. We’ve posted a mood board as well so feel free to heart it! Keep an eye on the blog! Things maybe be getting pretty weird from here on out.

I had a question for y'all. Would you want me to write what happens on other people’s dates? The dates that don’t involved Y/N, I mean. I can do one shots of those as well.

Another thought I had is that I'd like to make this interactive. SO I might put polls up on the blog for future dates and rose ceremonies and things like that. Would anyone vote?

Thanks for reading! If yo want to be tagged please send me an ask!

Maybe I could do asks for the characters as well as like part of the confessional? let me know! (You can send questions in starting now if you want!)

~AdminKim

Last time on BANGTAN in Paradise!

Things began with Seokjin and Y/N:

“It’s a beautiful day. There’s beautiful women,” he winked at you, “What’s not to be chipper about?”

“Also…I’m hoping that the date cards start to roll in soon. I’m anxious to be the first to take you out.”

And just as quickly seemed to take a turn for the worst:

“Look if you’re not interested, that’s fine, but don’t pretend to be interested.”

Alliances were made:

“Okay so here’s what I’m thinking. Things are going to get difficult really fast and when that happens, we’re going to need someone that we can trust.  A confidante. A safe haven. A sort of uh-”

“A friend?”

Jackson’s face brightened, “A FRIEND! Exactly! Yes, that’s what we will call it. Friendship! No one will know that we’re in cahoots if they just think they’re friends.”

“Or,” you paused waiting for him to look at you, “We could just be friends? Just a thought.”

An old rival appeared:

“Y/N! I’m so glad to see you,” she said hugging you before you could protest. You patted her back.

“Marie, how have you been?’

“Swell,” she said, pulling away, “I’m so glad to be back here! It looks like we both got a second chance at love huh?”

“Right, I-”

But she wasn’t much more interested in you. She walked past you and hugged Jackson. Your heart sank. You could feel the eyes on you. Pitying.

A bold confession was made:

“I just came to say that…I came here for you.”

“When they offered me the spot here, in Paradise, I was going to turn it down but when they mentioned that you would be here…” 

 “When they said to me ‘Y/N is going to be there’ I didn’t hesitate.”

“I needed to see you and while I realize that right now isn’t the right time to talk about all of this, I just want you to know…the first date card that I get, I will use it on you.”

 Two couple were formed:

“Looks like we have two couples set up in paradise then,” Yeonjun said wisely.

“Looks like it,” Taehyung agreed. If you would have looked at him, you would have seen a satisfied smirk on his face.

And Kim Taehyung showed his true colors:

Things were going to be different this time. Taehyung would make sure of it. Even if he had to be the one doing the hurting.

Will the two couples last? Has Jungkook given up on Y/N? Is Taehyung a bad person? What did Namjoon write on the paper he’d stuck to the ice chest? Will Seokjin ever forgive Y/N? 

Find out NOW ON:

BANGTAN IN PARADISE!

The next morning, you forwent the heat for your hair and braided two Dutch braids on your head instead.You tied a red silk scarf  around your head, two bunny ears on the right side. You decided that you would put on your swim suit then instead of coming back to the room to change. The day’s swim suit was all black and scrunched at the hips. It was a high waisted bikini with a small top. It had thick straps. But it wasn’t chunky. It sat comfortably on your shoulders. It had a lace up back that you struggled to pull tight enough, but you guessed you would be fine if it was a little bit loose as long as you were careful.

The straps suddenly dug into your shoulders and you remembered then that you had gotten sunburned the day before. When you had gotten back to your room, you had expected to see the aloe that Namjoon had helped you apply the day before somewhere in your room but when you hadn’t found it, you assumed you had been right and there was no real way to keep it cold unless it was in a fridge. You had instead applied your own gel but it was much less soothing than Namjoon’s had been. He’d been right in that sense. The cold temperature was much nicer on your burned skin.

Now, it had subsided a bit, but it still burned if your clothes dug in too harshly. You sighed, and pulled on a pair of towel shorts. The sandals that you had ruined the night before sat sadly in a corner. Your dress was stiff with chlorine. It had been so late the night before that you hadn’t had the energy to go and wash it. You took a gamble on the fabric, and though it wasn’t pleasant, the color hadn’t been bleached.

After applying a thick layer of seventy SPF all over your body, you opened your door. Instantly, you stopped in your tracks. A Styrofoam ice chest was at the foot of your door, a piece of paper was stuck to the lid. You looked around as if the person who had left it there was watching from around a corner.

Of course, no one was there. So you picked it up with both hands and set it down on your desk, closing the door behind you. You pulled the taped paper off of the lid. The handwriting was messy and rushed. Some of the letters bled into each other and were hard to read. You squinted at the ink trying to make out what it said.

I knocked a couple of times. You must be asleep. Here’s the gel for your sunburn. Sweet dreams.

-Namjoon and his cute dimples

You smiled, thinking about Namjoon cautiously knocking on your door in the middle of the night, trying not to be too loud so as not to wake anyone else. You imagined him calling your name a couple of times, hopeful that you could come to the door. Then, when there was no sign of you, he set the ice chest down and wrote you a note on his clipboard filled with papers, quickly and messily because he too was tired, and he didn’t want anyone to catch him. After that he might have placed a hand on the door and looked at the peep hole in disappointment that he hadn’t seen you before he knocked one final time, and left.

You shook the thought out of your head and set it aside carefully. You had half a mind to fold it up and tuck it away somewhere deep in your suitcase. Your little secret. But you held yourself back, remembering the cameras in your room. You instead pulled the Styrofoam lid from the cooler and were pleasantly surprised to see that, while a lot had melted, some ice had stayed solid. In the small pool, floated the blue gel and a plastic bag with something tan inside.

You pulled the plastic bag out first. There was a yellow sticky note inside. You pried it open and pulled out the note. Again, there was handwriting but this one was much less rushed and much neater looking. In contrast to the first paper, this handwriting almost looked like script from the olden days. It was almost calligraphy.

So I don’t have to wake up early. Here’s your mic. You know how to put it on. Just click the button on the left until the light turns green. TAKE IT OFF BEFORE YOU GO INTO THE WATER UNLESS YOU WANT TO DEAL WITH ME.

-Namjoon, your boss.

You giggled, setting the tan band aside and fishing out the aloe gel. You wasted no time in applying some to the affected area on your shoulders and on your neck. You applied some right under your eyes, feeling the sting travel all over your face but you didn’t mind. It felt amazing. Just like that, your day has been made. You felt ready to face the day and what it could bring. Hell! You might even be blessed with a date that day!

You set the gel back into the cooler and put the lid on securely hoping that the partially melted ice would keep it cold for later that night then slipped into the tan band that you were quickly becoming accustomed to. You did as Namjoon instructed and watched a small light at the top of the mic light. When you were satisfied that it was in the right place, you smiled at your room one last time then opened your door to leave.

If you had looked back as you closed it, you would have seen the note that Namjoon left you flutter down from the desk where you had left it. As it landed on the floor, it was swept under the desk by the resistance it faced. It landed face down. On the back, in big letters was a warning from Namjoon that you had missed and probably wouldn’t see. It sat innocently, staring up at the desk as if it wouldn’t have changed your entire Paradise experience.

“Morning y’all,” you said as you approached the cabana once again. Jorge was already behind the bar mixing a drink for someone, his red shirt bright and blaring. Before him sat Soobin and Jimin, who was sipping on a white wine. His eyes were a little puffy and his hair was mused. Soobin had a plate of what looked like Chilaquiles.

They both turned when they heard you speak and smiled brightly. Jimin moved over a seat and gestured for you to sit between them. You acquiesced with a graceful bow of your head. Jimin was possibly the shortest man in the villa but when you sat between him and Soobin, you realized he was taller than he seemed. You were dwarfed easily between the two.

“Sleep well Y/N,” Jimin asked instantly, ignoring your wide, surprised eyes. Before you answered, Jimin turned to Jorge and called him over.

“Yes Mr. Jimin,” he asked, setting a pretty cup of something blended in front of Soobin.

“Can you get Y/N some of this wine? It’s really fantastic.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Jimin’s own glass was shoved in your hands, his smile excited now.

“Try it Y/N! You won’t regret it I promise!”

You didn’t have the heart to refuse him. The way that he eagerly watched as you took the cup and carefully raised it to your lips was endearing. You let a miniscule amount pass your lips. Instantly, an explosion of flavor filled your mouth. Your taste buds sang. It was sweet and tangy at the same time. It made the side of your mouth pucker slightly. There was a hint of strawberry and what you thought was peach with an undertone of the regular grape you were used to. It was then that the aroma filled your nostrils. It was powerful. Like a perfume but not headache inducing. It was fancy. Much fancier than any wine you had ever purchased for yourself and not at all something that you would have expected Jimin to like.

“What do you think,” he asked, bouncing on the edge of his seat. He looked like he would explode if you didn’t answer him in the next five seconds.

“Wow,” you said eloquently, holding the clear liquid away from you to look at as if for the first time.

“Right,” he half yelled, turning you to face him with both hands on your bare knees. His hands were warm and encouraging.

“Yeah oh my God it's delicious!”

Jorge chuckled from behind you and placed a full glass in front of you. You handed Jimin his own glass back and turned back to the bar.

“Thank you Jorge,” you said, taking a bigger sip of your cup, “could I get some machacado con huevo?”

“I’m on it,” he said, turning towards the stove near the back. You took another, fairly large sip of your drink then let the taste simmer in your mouth.

Jimin giggled next to you. You furrowed your eyebrows. You turned to look at him but Jimin was looking at his glass. His wine level had gone down a good amount in the last couple of seconds.

“What are you giggling at Jimin?” You asked suspiciously.

“We indirectly kissed,” he said fingering the edge of the cup. You blushed immediately. Something about the way he said it made you feel like you had done something indecent.

You didn’t know how to answer but you must have looked shocked because the next second Jimin burst out laughing, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m just messing with you Y/N! You’re so cute,” he laughed, patting the top of your head a couple of times.

You chuckled awkwardly. You hadn’t exactly thought of Jimin as a potential match since you saw that Jin was there when you arrived. He had been your main target, but now that he mentioned kissing him, you were more and more drawn to those lush lips of his. Jimin didn’t seem to be chasing after someone yet, and he seemed to carry less drama than Jin and Taehyung. Maybe it was time to change your tactics and your target.

“Don’t feel bad Y/N,” Soobin said, drawing your attention over to him, “Jimin hyung likes to flirt. Especially when he’s had a good amount of alcohol.”

Jimin reached across your body to push at the taller man. Soobin giggled but barely moved. You felt your heart sink slightly. You couldn’t get the hang of these shows. You never knew when someone was being genuine or when they were just putting on a show for the cameras.

Jorge placed a plate of the prettiest eggs you had ever seen. A slew of tortillas were fanned out on the side and two little cups of salsa’s sat next to your plate. It smelled heavenly.

“Thank you Jorge!”

Jorge tilted his head in appreciation and you dug in. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were.

“I do not! I’ve only had two glasses,” Jimin argued.

“Sure hyung,” Soobin said, drinking the last of his own drink. You tried to ignore them yelling over you. You unattractively scarfed down your food. Nerves were starting to build in your stomach again and it made you feel hungrier. When your eggs were gone, you were still hungry. You could have probably eaten another plate full.

“Good Morning everyone! Your day just got better.” You looked over to the cabana entrance. Enter Kim Seokjin, his hair loose and wavy from the water. His skin was slightly darker than the day before. He was wearing a button up with white birds and some striped swim trunks. He wasn’t wearing any shoes and once again, he had a ridiculous amount of sunscreen on. Behind him were Taehyung and Jungkook, both glaring at the back of his head. You felt your heart drop.

Jin looked over at the nearly empty cabana, his eyes skimmed over you, locking onto your own for a second. He raised an eyebrow then smiled slightly before he looked away. Butterflies fluttered in the pit of your stomach. Was there still a chance?

But then he was sitting at the empty table and Taehyung and Jungkook, like a scene from a movie, walked by you without a word. Taehyung smiled softly at you. Jungkook looked at the floor. In your head, you thought he regretted what he’d said to you before his date. He’d seemed to have a good time with Marie. You were almost positive that if he got a date card in the near future, he wouldn’t be using it as he had promised.

You cast your eyes down to your thighs where they touched the chair. It was too early to start crying. Too early to get hurt or feel hopeless but things in Paradise were not going your way and you dreaded being sent home. Being unwanted once again. You squeezed your hands to try and distract yourself from your emotion. In an instant, two hands were on your back one small one and one much bigger one. You raised your head slightly and were met with the caring eyes of Soobin and Jimin. You hadn’t known these men for long, but seeing their supportive gazes made you smile.

“Min,” Someone said from the now filled table. Three heads snapped over to the voice of Taehyung who was standing and waving Jimin over. In an instant, Jimin stood, his hand still patting your back and hissed.

“Coming Taetae,” Jimin said, but he didn’t move.

Jimin looked back at you, an apology in his eyes and on his lips, but you held no animosity towards him, nor did you blame him for going to sit with his friend.

“It’s okay, go.”

“Are you okay though?” He asked, the sincerity evident.

“I’m fine. I’m just going to finish my breakfast. Thanks for the wine recommendation! I’ll be sure to ask you for some more advice on it.”

Jimin smiled but not the way he had before. There was sadness in his expression that you weren’t sure was because of your own feelings. Before you could analyze his expression any more, he removed his hand and walked over to Taehyung and the table.

You watched as Jimin seamlessly fit into the group. He greeted each person as if they had known each other for years and sat next to Taehyung comfortably. You knew you weren’t exactly on the show to make friends, but you were feeling extra lonely at that moment.

You turned back to look at Soobin, grateful for his support as well. He opened his mouth to say something but just then, Yeonjun plopped down next to him in the empty stool.

With an awkward glance your way, he turned to greet his friend. You pat his arm to let him know it was alright, then turned back to your breakfast which was getting cold.

You slowly ate more and more, not really tasting the food as it passed your lips and entered your mouth. You sipped on your wine as well as more people filtered into the cabana. Some looked refreshed, some looked a little like zombies.

When Alex showed up, you had cleaned your plate, and noticed that there was no room for her to sit next to her friends, so you moved over and took your cup to finish off your wine. You also moved your plate so that she would feel more comfortable to sit.

Alex paused, looking at you as if you had grown a second head. She said nothing as she sat, but she stared at you as she got situated.

“Thanks,” she finally said.

“No problem,” your voice cracked. You groaned as emotion clogged your air way. You shook your head, upset at yourself for not being able to keep those emotions at bay or at least inaudible.

With what seemed to be great strain on her part, Alex sighed and turned to face you instead of the boy that had so quickly become her friend.

“Are you okay,” she questioned, though there was little emotion behind the words. You didn’t want to bother someone with your feelings. You never wanted to force someone to listen, so you just nodded, then stood, drinking the last of your wine in one go.

“Are you sure?” She asked again as you began to walk away.

“Fine,” was all you could say before a tear slipped down your cheek. How pathetic. Why were you crying? You couldn’t pinpoint it. Maybe it was the way that Jin had looked at you. Or the guilt that you felt at not pulling away from Taehyung. Maybe it was the way that Jungkook had told you he was there for you and yet, he seemed content already with another woman. Maybe it was all three. Maybe you felt guilty for playing these men in the span of three days and hurt because in the end, it looked like none of them actually wanted to date you.

You walked deeper into the villa that was so cleverly hidden by trees. You followed a trail you hadn’t seen before but you guessed that if you hadn’t seen it, then it was probable that no one else had ventured this way yet. Everyone had been too preoccupied with each other to fully appreciate the resort.

The slope of the ramp, covered in trees and stones that were set into the sandy ground was beautiful. The sun shone through the leaves of the palm trees and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a small crab traversing over a rather big sand stone. You smiled at it as it too paused on its trek to look at you. The sun chose that moment to shine extra bright. The crab was trapped in its beam. Maybe three days away from reality, on a metaphorical island with some of the most attractive people you had ever seen, was already way too much for you but was that crab giving you puppy eyes?

Then in an instant, a cloud rolled through, the crab turned away, and you were left alone once again. It was almost an out of body experience. Like the you on the show wasn’t the you that you currently were.

The emotion you had been feeling was flushed from your system, given you still felt incredibly deterred and somewhat hopeless. You were no longer on the verge of tears. Still, you didn’t feel like going back into the fray, so you continued your trek up the slowly sloping path way.

When you finally reached the end, you were presently surprised to find a palapa with orange and tan couches as well as a woven straw coffee table. A sculpted, sand colored fan spun lazily over the lounge, barely giving off any actual wind.

This didn’t seem to bother the woman who was lounging almost as lazily on the couch, her tan bare legs thrown over the lap of a man who also seemed pretty unbothered by the heat of the day. He was leaning over her limbs, a laptop on the coffee table, and headphones on his head. You felt like you were intruding.

If you turned around now then maybe they wouldn’t notice you. But you were stuck. Something about the scene was so domestic. Calming. Yoongi wasn’t exactly focused on Julie and likewise, Julie wasn’t really paying attention to Yoongi, but they seemed…comfortable. Too comfortable. It was the third day, and they had met only a short time ago. How could they be on this level of comfort already?

You couldn’t stop watching, partially hidden by a low hanging palm tree. Yoongi stroked Julie’s leg affectionately every so often and Julie shot him a warm smile a couple of times. Under regular circumstances, you knew that you would be incredibly bored. Wouldn’t she want to get to know him better?

You waited for several more minutes. Waiting for anyone to say anything. The fan whirled, the wind blew lightly. The native birds chirped and the rest of the beach seemed to continue to move but the scene before you could have been paused. You held your breath out of fear that they would hear you, though you were really far away. Maybe you were being stupid. You should just walk in-

“Y/N?”

You jumped. All the blood in your face drained. He wasn’t exactly quiet so the two in the lounge snap their heads in the direction of the noise. The palm tree that had been covering you was blown away in that moment, exposing you. You tore your gaze from the couple and gave your attention instead to the voice that had startled you.

Your friendly neighborhood producer, Kim Namjoon stood behind you, his eyes wide at how you had reacted, worry on his features. Had he gotten tanner already? He seemed to be glowing. There was a bright aura surrounding him. The wind that had exposed you, blew into his hair. It fell away from his face like in a movie. It would have been a perfect shot. A close up, with the lights hitting directly behind him. Maybe a pretty pink filter. Maybe beautiful flower petals falling or…maybe a flare of the lens.

You were so lost in your own imagination that when Namjoon said your name, once, twice, three times more, you didn’t notice. It was like you had hit mute on the world and his lips were moving so minutely that you didn’t notice. You were entranced in his eyes. The scene in your head. You were entranced.

“Y/N,” he said one final time and this time, you heard it loud and clear. It jolted you from your mind’s movie. Yet, the filter you had seen wasn’t fading, the light from behind was still present. Still surrounding him. You blinked up at him, realizing that he was closer than you anticipated. Probably because of how quickly you had turned and that brief moment where you felt like you might pass out because of the fright he gave you.

“Are you alright?”

You shook your head, willing your mouth to speak.

“Dude,” you said, cringing internally at your choice of friendly term, “You scared me shitless!”

Why? Why were you so prone to these absolutely cringy slip of the tongue phrases when Namjoon was around? He must think you were so embarrassing. Suddenly, you wondered if his kindness was merely a product of his lack of confidence in your abilities. Maybe he felt as if you would end up alone and his advice and gestures were his way of pushing you to look better.

Namjoon raised both eyebrows then his lips pulled up into a smile like it always seemed to do. Was he perpetually happy?

“Sorry, dude,” He teased, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to get your attention.”

“Did I somehow manage to break my mic again? Already?” You reached behind you, tapping the little black box that was meant to be transmitting your voice to the editors. Namjoon winced and quickly grabbed your arm to stop you from tapping on it any more. His hand was so big that it wrapped almost entirely around your forearm. His skin was warm, as per usual and a little moist. Probably from the day’s humidity. You realized then that he was sweating slightly. That would explain the glow from his skin.

“No! Nope. You’re mic is fine for once. I was just sent to find you because I have something to give you.”

You tilted your head up at him. What could he have to give you? Your mind went straight to the ice box that rested in your room.

“Oh? I got the gel from last night. Did you get me more?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, “No. I think that you should have enough of that gel for the next six weeks, though let me know if you want me to bring you more ice.”

Namjoon let go of your arm and reached into his back pocket. He seemed to hesitate for a moment but then with renewed resolve, he presented you with something small and crème in color. Something you had seen many times before.

An envelope.

A date card.

Your eyes grew wide. You honestly didn’t expect to receive one any time soon. You expected for other people to ask you. Somehow you hadn’t given it any thought. The idea that you would get to choose never even crossed your mind.

You took the envelope with a trembling hand. Your mind was blank. Namjoon let you hold the paper. It was light. Almost nonexistent, yet the weight of your choice was heavy on your sun kissed shoulders.

“A date card.” It was a question, so why did it sound like a statement?

“Yeah,” Namjoon confirmed, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Then it was silent again. The clouds suddenly got much darker. Faint thunder sounded somewhere in the distance. A single thread of fear shimmied into your core. You hadn’t checked the weather this morning. Would it rain?

Namjoon wouldn’t look at you. He was staring down at the ground, his sandaled foot drawing circled on the sand dusted path way. A salamander rushed between you. The air stilled. Awkwardness seeped into the surrounding area like a plague.

“Mmm…thank you…I better,” you paused, “I better go…ask someone on this date I guess.”

“Right,” he agreed but didn’t move or look at you. The top of his head was shiny. His hair looked so soft. You itched to touch it but as you reached towards him, another voice, a very much feminine voice, interrupted.

You jumped apart, both of you, as if you were doing something you shouldn’t be. But you weren’t. Right?

“Did I just hear someone say ‘date card’?” Julie stood slightly above you on the path. A warm smile on her face that seemed to clash with the first impression of her that you had gotten. Her arms were crossed and she was looking at you and Namjoon knowingly.

“Uh yeah,” you said, blinking owlishly, “I got a date card.” You held it out for her to see. Her smile didn’t change. She didn’t reach for it. She said nothing. Unsettled, you put your hand down, holding the envelope tighter in your grip.

“Do you have any idea who you want to ask,” Julie finally said. Out of the corner of your eye, you looked at Namjoon uncomfortably.

“Oh I’m sorry, is he bothering you,” Julie asked, snapping your attention to her, your internal alarm going off instantly. She was pointing at the tall man off handedly. Her face was a mask of calmness that directly contradicted with your own panic. Namjoon’s head snapped up instantly. You could feel the fear emanating from him.

“No! Julie, he’s fine-” you began, but were cut off by the girl looking over at Namjoon with a quirk in her brow.

“Can’t argue there,” She joked just as Yoongi stepped up behind her.

“I-what?” You asked as she continued to look Namjoon up and down.

“He’s cute,” she continued, “don’t you think, Yoongi?” Yoongi’s amused smile preceded his reply. He looked up at Namjoon, who looked rooted to the place he was at. When he looked at Yoongi though, he seemed slightly more at ease. A plea on his features was evident.

“Namjoon? Yeah he’s pretty cute,” he laughed as Namjoon let his head fall back on his shoulders, clearly annoyed.

“Hyung,” Namjoon complained, his usually deep voice now whiney and, if you were honest, it did things to you.

“I’m only telling the truth, you ass. Take it or leave it.”

Namjoon pouted but didn’t argue further. Again, you were left confused. How was it that Namjoon was connected to multiple people? Taehyung made sense. He had already explained that, but Yoongi as well?

“Anyway,” Julie said, waving a hand in Yoongi’s face as if annoyed but her smile gave her away, “who are you going to ask on this date Y/N?”

The attention of the small group was suddenly back on you. Your heart thudded heavily. A face popped into your mind’s eye but you felt it would be inappropriate to say in current company. Though why that was…was evading you.

“I’m not sure,” you answered somewhat genuinely.

“You’re not going to ask this one are you? You can tell me! I won’t be mad,” Julie assured, pointing at Yoongi.

Yoongi gave her an exaggerated outraged look, almost questioning and incredulous. Yet, there was no hurt in his eyes or real threat. It was comical if you did say so yourself.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s literally the third day,” she said with a wink.

“I thought you had a nice time,” his hands on his hips, his nose close to hers, his lips pulled over his teeth so they made a flat line. Julie only chuckled and pushed him back with a finger to the very tip of his nose. Yoongi scrunched it up and frowned. Julie giggled.

“I did,” she confirms, “but I wouldn’t want you to miss out on things with other people. I want you to know, know  that you want to be with me. It’s too early,” she emphasized, “to know if we’re end game.”

“End game? Like the Avengers?” He asked, looking genuinely confused.

“No, like endgame relationship wise.”

They bantered back and forth, and all of the silence from before was almost made up by how easily they talked in that moment. And somehow, you knew that even if you did want to ask Yoongi on this date, he would probably say no.

“I’m really not sure who I’m going to ask,” you interrupted as Julie began to explain the basics of romance book jargon.

“I think I’ll go back and let everyone know I have one though,” you said, though you didn’t really know if you wanted to go back to the beach. Another, far away roll of thunder sounded somewhere offshore. Your skin stood on end but you did your best to ignore it.

“Sounds like a plan,” Julie said turning back to the palapa her and Yoongi were frequenting, “oh and, don’t worry,” she continued looking at you from over her shoulder, “we won’t tell anyone about…” she looked over you to Namjoon who had been silently watching the exchange since Yoongi shut him up, “this incident.”

And honestly, you didn’t know what incident she meant.

Namjoon sat in his chair next to Sejin. His heart was pounding in his chest from a combination of the conversation he had just had and his run back to the production sight he frequented. Multiple people were sitting behind computers, making sure the many mics on the beach were well and working. It was kind of dark and quiet. There was air conditioning as well so when he had finally settled, he was happy to feel the cool air on his warm skin.

Sejin gave him a look which he ignored. Namjoon had been messing up a lot lately. From the day he had met you, he’d dropped the ball. It was… torturous to say the least. Ever since he had seen your audition tape, there had been a certain magnetic pull he’d felt. A sense of rightness that wouldn’t leave his head. At the time, he thought the feeling had been directed towards you and Jungkook and he hadn’t been totally wrong. He had seen the footage of you and Jungkook when he had finally realized how amazing you were. There was so much pride at having been the one to choose you that he almost hadn’t noticed the twang of jealousy he felt when he watched you two kiss. The operative word being Almost.

He’d ignored it at first. Ignored the pang of longing he felt when he watched you getting ready for the rose ceremony. Ignored the way that his heart hammered when he finally saw you all done up and radiating a confidence he seldom saw on a show like the bachelor. And finally, he ignored the pang of near anger he felt when Jungkook hadn’t called your name after kissing you and telling you that he would give you a rose. He had to sit back and watch as you walked out, covered in tears. It was so much worse now that he had actually spoken to you.

He had promised Sejin that he could handle it. He could be the one in charge of you and he wouldn’t meddle in the outcome of your season. And he really thought he could. It was obvious that you barely even knew he existed and had barely any interest in him as a person let alone romantically, so he thought that maybe even if you knew of him, if he got a taste of what it would be like to spend time with you…he would be fine. He could keep his distance. Namjoon was a professional.

Wrong. He was so wrong. So wrong that it was laughable. Maybe not even laughable because of how mistaken he had been. You were funny. You were sweet. You were…real…and he didn’t even blame himself for whatever feelings he was feeling anymore. Still, in the span of three days, he had broken so many rules of the show just because he didn’t want you to go through what you had gone through before. He’d already gotten a talking to from Sejin on multiple occasions. He was treading on thin ice but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“So,” Sejin said as Namjoon ran his hands through his hair and patted his chest right over where his heart was, “everything went well I see.”

It was a solid thirty seconds before he had managed to process Sejin’s words and come up with something to say. Because what could he say? He’d done what was asked of him and completely forgot to ask if you felt alright. As soon as he had gotten in that morning, after sleeping in for an extra hour, he had seen you walking alone with very clear tears in your eyes and he almost wished for you to once again break your mic so he could go talk to you.

The perfect opportunity had presented itself when Sejin gave him a date card that was meant for you. Still, he’d completely forgotten to ask about your emotional well-being in favor of being completely awkward and submissive in the face of ridiculous insinuations by someone who had no idea what they were talking about.

“I got her the date card, if that’s what you mean,” Namjoon groaned.

“Yes, it looks like it. And it looks like you also managed to not interfere this time. I’m proud of you Namjoon,” Sejin joked, patting him on the back.

“Don’t patronize me hyung,” Namjoon begged, “I am perfectly capable of getting my job done properly.”

Sejin chuckled, “I know that,” He assured, “yet, you’ve been making a lot of mistakes lately. Lots of slips of the tongue, don’t you think?”

Namjoon didn’t answer. Instead he pulled his clipboard over to him from where he had set it down before he left. A jagged edge of yellow paper stuck up at an odd angle. He paid it no mind. Instead he stared at the new blank page where he should be writing ideas for new dates and angles for the show, willing his brain to work. To think of something that the contestants might like and would be interesting for the viewers but he couldn’t think of anything. He kept picturing beautiful night skies, and lanterns and picnics. Things that, under other circumstances would make fantastic dates but in this case, were much too simple and ordinary.

“Look,” Sejin interrupted much more seriously, “If it’s any consolation, if everything works out the way we would like, she’s going to be happy.”

It should be a consolation. He should be happy even if after six weeks he would never see you again. He should want the best for you but if he was being honest, he hated the idea of you with someone else. He hated the idea of you theoretically marrying someone who wasn’t him. Someone he knew…someone who didn’t deserve you.

“Yeah,” he said instead, “it does make me feel better.”

And it did. For about three seconds. Then he saw you back at the cabana with a date card and a very happy, smiling man standing next to you. It was only fitting that it began to rain heavily right then and everyone scattered. The weather sure was perceptive.

Thunder rolled through the clouds. The wind had picked up quite a bit in the last hour and a half but there was the slimmest chance or rain. Taehyung simply ignored the slight chill and took the opportunity to cuddle up to Kitty who had been inseparable from his side since the night before. He had to admit, this wasn’t his intention when he had cozied up to you in the pool previously. It was more so, his intention to get himself back on your good side and to show that he was, however little, interested in you. The girls had the power this week and there were so many men in Paradise that he wanted to make sure that he had one foot in a boat and one on a life raft.

Truthfully, Kitty seemed pretty content with giving him a rose this week and he didn’t exactly foresee anyone stealing her attention from him but at the same time, he wasn’t really interested in her. No, see, Taehyung had come onto the show because he had heard that you were going to be there and he knew very well that many of the other men had also come on for this very reason. They would be crazy not to. You were charming, beautiful and smart to top it off but he also realized that all of these men would be pursuing you. Hence, his need to find a life raft.

What he hadn’t counted on, however was your self destructive tendencies. Seokjin had been his first worry, if he was honest. He seemed very keen on getting to date you and you him, but that had fallen apart quicker than he had anticipated. Then there was the threat of Jungkook and his insistence that he would make up for his past mistakes. Truthfully, he hadn’t been worried in that aspect. He’d royally screwed up. He didn’t foresee him getting a second chance. That was why he had befriended the boy so early on.

It was when Jungkook had told him of his plans for when he got his first date card that he began to feel a bit of worry niggling at his heart. All had been solved, or depending on how one were to look at it, destroyed, when Marie had appeared. He had been relieved, then suddenly worried for an entirely different reason. With no prospects for whom you were to date, your rose and confidence were in jeopardy.

He couldn’t have that. He couldn’t let you leave. Not when he hadn’t even gotten the chance to properly speak to you. Not when…he hadn’t even had the chance to show you that this coldness, this- this fuck boy persona, wasn’t him.

Then a totally curve ball was thrown his way when none other than Jackson Wang took an interest in you. He didn’t seem your type. He was much too…big. Macho. He had the whole frat boy thing down to an art. He had almost laughed when he had seen him talking to you as you tried, in every way possible, to evade him. His laugh had caught in his throat when you sat on one of the outdoor beds that were littered around the hidden beach and stayed there as he watched you, as covertly as he could, while you surfed and laughed and later ate.

He would deal with that when the time was right. He stood by his initial judgment. Jackson Wang was not the man for you and you would realize that soon. Be it on your own or by his own hand. He would make sure of it. For the time being, he assumed that having a potential love interest would keep you sated.

Kitty pulled on his arm then, pulling him from his thoughts. He could smell the hint of rain over the pungent smell of sea water. While the thunder was far, he couldn’t help but wonder If the wetness he was feeling on his cheeks was rain or that of sea water. He pulled her tighter to his side, for the simple reason that he was leeching off her warmth. She smiled up at him happily. A hint of guilt panged in his heart but he pushed it aside.

Jimin was sitting next to her, his head resting in his hand as he spoke to Alex, who had seemed uncomfortable at first but now seemed much more relaxed as she continued her conversation. Seokjin was talking animatedly to Holly and to Jungkook. The group laughed occasionally. Obnoxiously. But Taehyung didn’t really care. He wasn’t exactly there to make friends. It was better that they all thought he was their friend. He was sure of that, but he was going to have a hard time putting up with some of these mannerisms.

“Hey guys,” the unmistakable voice of yours said, snapping everyone’s attention to the Cabana entrance.

You looked nervous and it only took the whole of the group two seconds to realize why. There was a very familiar looking envelope in your shaking hands. Instantly, Taehyung assumed that you would be asking Jackson. He tried to ignore his slight jealousy at that notion but then he realized…Jackson wasn’t in the cabana. His blood ran cold. Who else could you ask? Did you simply not know that Jackson wasn’t present? Were you here to rub in the magnificent date that you were sure to have?

His eyes shot over to the two youngest boys. Did you maybe want to ask one of them out? Maybe you had a Noona kink. Maybe they did? Then he looked at Jimin, who had sat up straight at the sign of what was presumably the piece of paper in your hands. He’d mentioned that you guys had had a decent conversation earlier before he’d been called over to sit with him. He shot Jimin a betrayed look over the head of the girl who was wrapped around him but the shorter man didn’t notice.

“I’m really sorry to disrupt everyone but I uh,” she held up the envelope awkwardly, clearly not knowing how to handle the situation, “I have a card…”

You could hear a pin drop. If he didn’t like you, he would be annoyed at the coy act you were putting on but the butterflies in his chest made it endearing. Could he be mistaken? Were you going to ask him?

Suddenly, you looked directly into his eyes, as if you could hear his thoughts and then it hit Taehyung like a ton of bricks. He was currently sitting in a booth and squished into his side was a very brunette, very possessive woman who was staring daggers at the true object of his affection.

Instantly, he tried to pry her off his arm but she was stuck. Like a leach. All the blood drained from his face as he saw your eyes dart to Kitty’s then at his then away once again. He followed your gaze and watched it fall on the group he had been watching earlier. Holly had a hand on Seokjin’s shoulders as if that meant she had dibs on him. Seokjin made no real move to get away from her aside from stiffening slightly under her touch. His ears were a little red at the tips.

Jungkook was nearly identical to his hyung. His ears were tinted red, his body rigid and stiff. Marie was looking at him, worry evident in her eyes. She had a smile on her face that Taehyung knew was for the cameras, which, if he were to look around, were everywhere. This must be an intense moment that the editors were planning. Much like Marie’s arrival. He could see multiple camera men and producers hovering around the group. He instantly searched for Namjoon but realized that he wasn’t with the usual camera man.

It struck him as odd but he didn’t pay it much mind as you began to talk again.

“Am I supposed to read this? Should I just ask someone?”

“Read it,” Soobin said from somewhere near. Taehyung didn’t care to know where. You, obedient as ever, opened the flap and pulled out the thin paper from inside. Your eyes skimmed the letter, once, twice, then finally you looked up and with a strained smile and read out loud.

“Y/N, I hope you’re hungry for some romance! Pick-nic yourself a partner to share some delicious conversation with! Your date leaves in two hours!”

You looked around hopefully, like you were waiting for someone to ask you on the date and not the other way around. Then, as if you came back to yourself, you shook your head and looked back at the letter. It was like you were building your confidence up. Taehyung’s heart thudded harder against his rib cage. Again, he tried to pry Kitty from his arm but she clung on tighter. She was glued to him. His hopes were unbelievably high. He had a chance. He just knew it. He could win you over if you just gave him a chance-

“Seokjin,” you said and it was like all the life was drained from his body, “If I recall correctly, you have very good taste when it comes to food…” you paused. You twirled one of your braids in your free hand and bit your lower lips. Taehyung could almost feel the nerves radiating from you all the way to where he was sat.

“Would you…maybe want to go on this date with me?”

Everyone’s eyes snapped to the aforementioned man. Holly was basically digging her nails into Seokjin’s shoulder. Her body frozen as she watched his expression shift from fear to shock then finally, flattery.

“I-why-I mean- yes! Yeah, of course! Thanks for asking me.”

He stood from his elevated seat, Holly pulled her hands from his body as if burned. She looked absolutely dejected. Seokjin shot her an awkward and apologetic smile but walked over to you. His thick lips pulled over his perfect teeth.

Huh… for someone who was pretty hurt only a day ago, he sure seemed excited. He’d done a full 180.

Taehyung’s heart sank into his stomach, watching as you spoke excitedly to the perfect man before you. It looked like the game was back on and he couldn’t phone it in for much longer.

Like hawks, the camera men and producers swarmed the cabana, pulling different people to interview. Jungkook was one of them. He wasn’t surprised. Though honestly, he couldn’t say two words about what he was feeling even if he knew every language in the world.

His interview went along the lines he had expected. What did he feel? What just happened? Was he hurt? Yadda yadda yadda…

It wasn’t until he was sitting back in his seat next to Marie that it all hit him like a ton of bricks. Literally. Well almost. The rain poured down from the heavens by the buckets. Thunder reverberated through his entire body. In an instant, everyone was on their feet and running for their assigned rooms. People were covering their heads. Seokjin and you separated and ran towards your respective rooms. In the back of his head, a voice spoke to him about destiny and the wrongness of your choice. He did feel a little bad. There was no way that Seokjin and you would go on your date now and anyone who would arrive that day wouldn’t even be able to meet anyone if everyone was stuck in their rooms. Production would have to shut down for the time being.

He watched you run to your room as he finally got to his senses and took off toward his own residence. Marie yelled something over at him that he didn’t hear and quite honestly, didn’t care about. His focus was on the way you were running. You had your hands over your chest, you kept tripping over your own feet and if he wasn’t mistaken, were you…crying? Had the disappointment hit you that hard already?

It was a second later that Jungkook made up his mind to go after you to make sure you were alright since your supposed date wasn’t anywhere in sight…he was probably off somewhere making sure his hair wasn’t frizzy… but it was a second too late. Past him ran a very wet and very fast Taehyung. He was sprinting. His wet hair was in his eyes and droplets ran down his perfect nose.

Defeat plagued Jungkook then, his jog much slower now. Discouraged. He felt a frown tug at his lips and his shoulders slumped. He made it to the place where the rooms were. A small ledge stood between him and the pouring rain. He stood there for a couple more seconds. A flash of lightning lit up somewhere nearby. Instinctively, he counted the seconds before he heard the thunder. It was five seconds. Five miles away.  

Thunder roared in his ears. Somewhere ahead, he heard a girl scream. His heart jumped as well. Finally, he realized that being outside at the moment wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do, so he ran the rest of the way to his room and locked himself in.

The air conditioning hit his wet skin like ice. Goosebumps pimpled on his skin. Without hesitating, he pulled the shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. It plopped unattractively, making an almost instant puddle on the floor.

He groaned as the air hit his abs hard. It felt like a hard slap to his skin as the water dripped down the ridges of his muscles. His body stiffened under the temperature. He began to shiver. Every muscle in his body flexed trying to warm him up. His shorts, actual shorts he’d chosen to wear that day instead of swim trunks, clung to the thick skin of his thighs.

He knew he should take them off but his hands weren’t cooperating. They were balled into fists at his sides, his nails were digging into his palms painfully.

Almost instantly, he recognized another, much bigger--if he was in his right head he might have cracked a smile at his own thought--problem was presenting itself.

In his heavy, wet shorts, under his soaked underwear, blood had rushed to his member. This was the down side of having a pain kink. It, of course, didn’t always work this way but it seemed that something was really doing it for him in that moment.

He groaned again, shifting uncomfortably. Behind his eyes, flashes of girls began to manifest. He clenched and unclenched his fists trying to ignore the urge to do something about his semi. He forced himself to open his eyes. He tried to focus on something in the room. Anything. But there was nothing in the small room of his to distract him.

With all the strength he had left, Jungkook ripped his shorts off along with his underwear. He forced his eyes to stay directly before him then picked up his beach towel. He carefully dried himself off, avoiding his very obvious erection.

It was hard. No pun intended. It was difficult for him not to indulge in what he really wanted to do. Your face popped in his head like the erection had popped up earlier. It twitched in the free air. Your smile, your eyes, the way you fidgeted nervously earlier when-

And it began to sink. The thought of you going out with another man really put a damper on his almost fantasy. He let his mind go over the events of the last couple of minutes. His heart sank with his erection and then suddenly, it was gone. Jungkook was still a little cold but his pain was no longer physical.

Tears brimmed his eyes and he made no effort to slow them. Instead, he stood in the middle of his room, partially covered by a cyan blue beach towel with his heart in his throat. He’d made a mistake once again. He shouldn’t have said yes to Marie. This one, was completely on him.

Your heart hammered hard against the cage of your ribs. Your skin was soaked to the bone though you didn’t really notice it. You didn’t notice the multitude of tiny scratches that had started to appear on the tops of your feet as you tripped over yourself and stepped on tiny pebbles and shells that were a little too sharp and a little too hidden for your liking.

You didn’t realize that the droplets of water running down your cheeks weren’t drops of rain but in fact thick salty tears. You didn’t feel the weight of your braided hair getting heavier and heavier with rain water. You also didn’t notice how cold your body was because of the sudden gust of wind.

What you did notice was your door was firmly closed and the thunder and lightning were getting closer together and that meant that the lighting was closer to you. You also noticed how, even though you had been running at the, well… speed of lightning, you didn’t feel at all tired.

Maybe it was because, in that moment, you weren’t in your body. You were watching yourself run, instead. As if you had traveled into the future and you were watching back the show. In your out-of-body self, you laughed as you ran. The fear in your eyes was funny to you for some reason. Perhaps it was because you knew, somewhere in your subconscious that there was nothing to be scared about. Maybe it was because future you knew exactly what would happen in the next couple of minutes. Maybe it was because…future you knew the mistakes you were going to make over the course of the six weeks.

You rammed through your bedroom door, your wrist snapping, what should have been, painfully but you didn’t care. You wanted to get out of the rain, away from the noise. You wanted to hide under your blankets. You wanted to be held.

Before you could shut the door just as forcibly as you had opened it, another arm stopped it. It was then that you realized what was going on. You were forced back into your body. The fear intensified tenfold as the hand on your door pushed.

You didn’t try to fight back. You let whomever it was, push the door open. You stepped back feeling helpless. In walked Taehyung, his face set in an inquisitive expression. It was like he didn’t want to give away his real emotions. You opened your mouth to ask why he was in your room but in that moment another loud beat of thunder hit and all the blood drained from your face. Your legs gave out from under you. You braced yourself to hit the floor and were not disappointed. You butt hit first, then your wrists to hold you up. You knew it would bruise. It was already painful even through your stupor.

Taehyung shut the door firmly behind him then, as if dropping a mask, his features shifted in worry. He shuffled over to you and kneeled down, his hands on his knees as he watched more tears stream down your face.

Hesitantly, he reached out to touch you but you shied away from his touch. A flash of hurt shone in his eyes like the lighting that shone outside your door. Another flash, more lightning and your body flinched painfully. You brought your aching hands up to cover your ears.

Pathetic. You knew in the back of your head that you probably looked like a child. How attractive. Your vision was so blurry that you weren’t even sure if you were seeing him correctly.

“Y/N?”

His voice was soft, almost a whisper, like he was scared to speak too loudly. Maybe he thought it would make you scared too.

You took in deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. It was just thunder. It was just a little bit of rain. Nothing would happen to you as long as you stayed inside. As long as you-

Another thunderous roar vibrated in your skull. The irrational part of you wept in terror. You pushed your hands closer to your ears. Trying to drown out the sound. You hadn’t brought your sound proof headphones. You didn’t think it would rain like this. You expected it to be pleasant while you were in Paradise. You thought the most you would get would be a drizzle. But boy had you been clearly wrong.

“Hey,” Taehyung spoke again, trying to get your attention again. His tone was so gentle, soothing. You wanted to melt into it. Your body shivered under the intense blast of the cooling system but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Your hair dripped onto the floor. A puddle quickly forming beneath you.

He reached for you again and this time you didn’t flinch away. His fingers caressed your wet cheek, wiping away the tears and rain water that was dripping from your scalp. You melted into his touch. The bit of physical touch grounded you slightly.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, scooting a little closer so that his knees touched your shins. He placed his other hand on the other side of your face. He brushed both thumbs over your smooth skin. His own skin caught on yours as the water began to disperse and dry.

“You’re not alone anymore, Y/N,” he insisted, tilting your head up so you could look at him, “As long as I’m here, everything will be okay.”

The cynic in you wasn’t exactly convinced by his words but when another loud rumble hit, you couldn’t help but ignore that voice. It was possible it would help not to be alone…for once in your life.

Without much thought, you leaned forward and clung onto Taehyung’s waist. You were shaking. He could tell and he was a little surprised that you were hugging him. Up until then, he had been the one showing any affection and you were only putting up with him. Or at least it seemed.

Taehyung wrapped his arms loosely around your shoulders. The weight of them brought you back even more. You could hear the pitter patter of the rain outside, still falling heavily, but you could also hear the inhale and exhale of Taehynug’s breath on your wet neck.

“Are you cold? You should change out of these clothes,” he said, starting to stand slowly. He helped you up as well, still held in his arms, like he was trying to push all of your floating pieces back together.

You did your best to help him help you. Your legs were still wobbly but you were starting to regain some feeling in them. When you were firmly standing, the soles of your feet pushed into the cheap material of your flip flops, you felt your body start to function regularly once again.

The haze in your brain began to fade and clear. You looked up at Taehyung with wide eyes. Like you had just realized he was there and you were holding him close. Your clothes stuck to each other. You were standing on a pool of water. It was in that instant that the discomfort hit you.

You shivered again, this time more violently and not because of the weather. Taehyung held you closer, a squelch escaping your clothing. You groaned, slightly embarrassed.  He pulled away so he could look at you directly. At some point, your tears had slowed and you could see him better. His hair was plastered to his head. Strands of it hung on his face, darker than it was before, if that was even possible, with strands hanging in his asymmetrical eyes. Asymmetrical. Unique. Taehyung was unique. Perfect in a different way than the way that Seokjin seemed to be.

His lips were a bit on the thin side and seemed to always be pouty. He had a big nose, nothing too crazy but you had noticed it before, when you had first seen him on his season. He also always seemed to have a slight shadow on his chin and his upper lip. There was a little stubble there. Short and fine. Would it be scratchy if you touched it? His tummy wasn’t toned. Not the way that Jungkook’s was but honestly, you didn’t really mind. In your opinion, he looked good. Felt good. It didn’t really matter to you if he was toned or not.

“Do you want me to leave so you can change-”

Then it hit again. Behind the curtains of your window you saw the flash before you heard it. And it was like a punch in the stomach. It was easy to laugh at yourself when it wasn’t happening, but in these moments, you really felt like it was the end of the world.

A small scream was ripped from your throat. Taehyung’s eyes widened. As your knees buckled again. He held you up, then sat you in the only chair in the room. You were quivering. It was getting old. This fear. Why couldn’t you be normal?

“Do you have headphones or something?” Taehyung asked, starting to move things around on your bed. When you didn’t answer, he looked back at you to make sure you were alright.

“You don’t have to talk okay? Just shake or nod your head.”

Slowly, you nodded. He smiled a small line that added to his perfect uniqueness. Where had this Taehyung been for the last couple of days? This was the Taehyung that the world had fallen for…and one you could see yourself falling for as well.

“Do you have headphones?”

You nodded again slowly.

“Are they in this room?”

Another terrifying boom. Your body tensed.

With renewed fervor, Taehyung turned your bed upside down, searching for them. You wanted to yell at him that he wouldn’t find them. That you hadn’t brought them but you couldn’t make your voice work. You simply sat, and watched as he frantically searched. Then, with a frustrated growl, he looked over at you once again.

“Don’t move from there. I’ll be right back,” he assured. Without waiting for you to say anything, he threw the door open and ran out of your room. Somehow, this made it so much worse. Maybe it was because now the door was open wide and you could hear everything much clearer. Maybe it was because you were alone again.

A multitude of sobs escaped your body. Your energy was quickly depleting. You made yourself count. What you were counting you couldn’t be sure. But you counted slowly in your head.

One, two, three…

A gust of wind pushed your door open further. It hit the wall violently. The noise startled you slightly.

Seven, eight, nine…

Goosebumps erupted all over your exposed skin. Your brain buzzed with anticipation. You squeezed your eyes shut. You pressed your hand over your heart, feeling for its beat.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…

You heard footsteps splashing on the way to your room. In your mind’s eye, you saw Taehyung running back towards you. Your fear ebbed slightly. You didn’t want to be alone. The sooner he got there the better.

You took a deep breath as the steps reached your door. They were heavy, and panicked. Almost as panicked as you felt. Ragged breathing followed, as if he had run miles to get back to you. In an instant, you felt his presence before you. You heard the door close and something was placed over your head. Something heavy and soft, that covered your ears. At first static filled in the noise, but in a matter of seconds, loud music replaced it.

There were no lyrics to the music. It was instrumental. Lo-Fi maybe. It was smooth, soothing. Your heart stuttered under your palm. The tightness in your chest began to fade. Breathing started to become much easier. Less labored. Without meaning to, you sighed in relief.

Two large hands landed on your knees, still wet from earlier. The warmth from them seeped into your body. A wave of slight embarrassment coursed through you at the display you’d given in the last hour.

Something soft, and dry was thrown over your shoulders. A towel, you assumed and it was then that you opened your eyes. You smiled down at Taehyung-

But it wasn’t Taehyung. Before you, like the time before when you were having a slight panic attack, Namjoon was squatting before you, his eyes worried, concern on every feature. And you wondered why you hadn’t guessed just by the way he’d once again comforted you the way that he had then.

He spoke without thinking, but then when you only stared back at him, he shook his head and mouthed, “are you okay?”

You nodded, still not completely trusting your voice to speak.

Namjoon smiled and pulled the towel closer around you, nuzzling you in its warmth. It kind of smelled like him. Like  wood and parchment and something soothing like cotton.

The door to your room suddenly slammed open. You didn’t actually hear it, as the headphones on your head prevented you from doing so but you saw it out of the corner of your eye. In came Taehyung, fear in his eyes and a bag in his arms.

When he saw Namjoon leaning down before you, his expression changed from scared to annoyed. He rolled his eyes but closed the door behind him. You blinked at Namjoon but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was looking over at Taehyung, a bit of shock in his eyes.

You couldn’t be sure of what happened next but Namjoon removed his hands from your body and stood up right. He towered over the younger boy but he was hunched over. Like he was scared.

Taehyung let the bag fall under your desk. You watched as he spoke to the producer. Namjoon had his back to you so you couldn’t even try to read his lips though by his body language, you could tell he was on the defense.

Taehyung seemed to be yelling. He gestured towards you with his hands but Namjoon kept his gaze forward. Taehyung looked at him expectantly then when no one moved, he opened the door and gestured out of it. Namjoon’s shoulder’s slumped but he walked towards the door. He stopped once more, said something to Taehyung, then without a single look back, he walked out into the storm.

Taehyung didn’t know what to think of the scene before him. His heart wrenched into his throat. Namjoon was holding a clean towel over your shivering body. You were smiling down at him appreciatively. There was a set of heavy looking headphones over your ears and you were no longer crying. You looked much more peaceful.

Taehyung couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He’d done it again. Namjoon had interrupted you in the middle of something that could have led to something more. He couldn’t understand it. On the last show he had been on, Namjoon had been nothing but professional. He was only seen when absolutely necessary and had even chastised multiple other people for interfering when it wasn’t needed. So why, now, was he the one making these mistakes?

Namjoon looked at Taehyung rightfully surprised. He looked slightly uncomfortable, as if Taehyung had walked in on you and Namjoon and not the other way around, which…in a way he had been the one to but that was beside the point. The producer stood up from his crouched position. He stuck his hands in his pockets. His shoulder hunched.

Taehyung dropped the bag in his hands under the desk in your room. His blood was boiling.

“What are you doing here, hyung?”

Namjoon closed his eyes at Taehyung’s tone. Somewhere in the back of his head, he realized that he was being rude and should probably tone down his theatrics but he couldn’t help it. He really felt like he had made real progress that day and he had enough competition on the show without someone else making moves on you as well.

“I can see what you guys are doing, Taehyung. She looked distressed and I knew what to do to help. That’s all,” he said almost in an exhausted way.

“That’s all? That’s all?! Hyung, this is the second time in three days that you pull something like this-”

“Something like what?”

“Something like a romantic gesture!”

Namjoon blinked at his charge, then looked down at his feet. Taehyung was breathing heavily, like he was using all his energy to be upset. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear from his producer but he needed answers.

“If you think,” Namjoon began, his voice low and dangerous but Taehyung was unphased, “That helping a woman who is clearly distressed to feel better is a romantic gesture then you have a weird idea of romance, Kim Taehyung.”

“Don’t turn this on me hyung,” Taehyung half yelled, scared that you could hear, but you seemed completely lost so he wasn’t too worried.

“Y/N came onto this show to find love-”

“I know that-”

“With someone on the show, Hyung! Not with a producer!”

Instantly, Taehyung knew he’d overstepped. Namjoon’s eyes widened, then lidded. His shoulders fell. He hung his head in what could be shame or embarrassment…or hurt.

“I know, Taehyung. I was the one who picked her for the show in the first place.”

A sudden coldness swept through the room. Taehyung hardened his expression and pointed out the door as he pulled it open.

“Then leave hyung. I have it covered,” then as an afterthought he added, “I actually have a chance with her.”

The pain in Namjoon’s expression only deepened. Without retaliating, Namjoon followed Taehyung’s gesture. Every step seemed like agony and Taehyung could tell that he wanted to look back at you but he didn’t. When he was almost out of the room, he turned to look at Taehyung and under his breath said:

“Let her know when the storm blows over that her date with Seokjin is postponed until further notice. Also, that I’ll come get the headphones later.”

He deserved it. Taehyung knew he did. But the way that Namjoon hissed another man’s name felt like a slap to the face. Because it was Namjoon who had chosen you to be on the shows and he clearly was a fantastic judge of character. And Taehyung knew that it was Namjoon who had gotten Seokjin on the show as well. If he was approved by the producer, then there was no way that Seokjin wouldn’t be a fantastic date and a fantastic partner.

Namjoon went out into the rain. Taehyung watched him walk away, the droplets hitting his hair. He was wearing a raincoat but he didn’t seem to care if he was getting wet. He was too harsh…but he wasn’t going to let Namjoon get in his way.

“Hyung,” He yelled after him. Namjoon looked over his shoulder, hopeful, for what Taehyung wasn’t sure but he was about to dash those hopes…for your benefit.

“If I catch you and her like this again…I’ll go complain to the director.”

And he closed the door without looking back. His heart ached slightly. He’d always liked Namjoon and genuinely considered him a friend. But he couldn’t risk his happiness once again.

You were looking ahead, away from the door. He thought he saw a single tear roll down your face but he paid it no mind. It was probably left over from the fear, or maybe from your hair being soaked.

He leaned under your desk and grabbed his bag, filled with snacks and a comfy sweater he thought you might like and a weighted blanket he never traveled without as well as his own set of headphones that he clearly wouldn’t need anymore.

He made to straighten but then a yellow sheet of paper caught his eye. In bold, clear letters, he saw his own name. He glanced at you once again over his shoulder but you were still looking away, holding the towel to your body. He picked up the paper and read:

Be careful with Kim Taehyung

His heart sank. He knew the hand writing. So it seemed that Namjoon was trying to sabotage him. This made him feel better about what he had said to him. Had you read this already? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He crumpled the paper and tucked it in his pants pocket which was still wet, but who cared if the paper disintegrated?

He wasn’t going to take any chances.

It rained for the rest of the day. The thunder and lightning had stopped after the first two hours and you were able to take off the headphones that Namjoon gave you then. You parted with the towel reluctantly when Taehyung had left to change and told you that he had brought you a sweater of his to wear if you wanted.

You did, in fact, put it on. It was incredibly big and hit somewhere near your midthigh. You decided to put on a pair of comfortable sweat shorts under and then pulled out the other things in the bag. It was strangely heavy. The mystery of why that was was quickly solved when you pulled out an extremely thick, dark blue blanket. Then you saw the snacks and a pair of headphones that he had probably brought for you.

He was sweet. You were really glad he had noticed something was wrong, though you weren’t sure how he knew. It was nice to not be alone during one of your episodes. It made you feel warm inside that he seemed to actually care. The idea of Kitty briefly crossed your mind but he wasn’t with Kitty was he?

You felt giddy. On cloud nine. When there was a knock on your door, you jumped at the chance to speak to Taehyung again.

Alas, once again, you were wrong about the identity of the person at your door. Your heart stopped when Seokjin was the one standing at your door. You felt sleazy. Like he’d caught you cheating on him with another guy. Not that that was possible since you weren’t exactly dating but that didn’t help in the slightest. On top of that, Taehyung was probably on the way back as well.

“S-Seokjin?”

“Who else did you expect, baby?” He asked with a slight chuckle. Then he saw what you were wearing and his face fell.

“Oh…did I interrupt something?”

“No!” you practically yelled opening the door wider, “I’m alone. I-”

How do you even begin to explain what had just happened? It was incredibly embarrassing.

“So is that sweater yours then?”

Seokjin didn’t wait for an answer. He walked into the room with all the confidence in the world. His eyes skimmed the space. The puddle on the floor and the snacks on the bed.

“What were you doing? Were you going to watch movies or something like that?”

“I um…”

“Can I join you? I just got word from the production staff that our date would be postponed until the weather got better. Still, I’d like to spend the rest of the day with you if that’s alright? Think of it like a pre date!”

He looked so excited. So happy. How could you possibly say no?

You smiled at him, about to agree when another knock drew your attention. Seokjin raised an eyebrow then without asking, he walked over to the door and pulled it open.

Enter Kim Taehyung, his hair slightly more dry and in a pair of pjs dotted with what looked like hearts.

“Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin asked.

“Hyungnim? What are you doing here?”

“Y/N and I were just about to watch some movies together. Why are you here? In your pajamas?”

Taehyung gave you a look over Seokjin’s shoulder but you said nothing. Guilt filled you to the brim. You felt like you were leading these two men on and yet… they were doing the same. With Kitty and Holly. Should you even feel bad?

“Movies?”

“Yeah… so if you could just come back later then-”

“Sounds fun,” Taehyung cut him off with a satisfied smirk, “count me in.”

Taehyung pushed his way past the older man who looked at you incredulously. You groaned, shrugged your shoulders and looked at the younger man.

“What are we watching Y/N?”

Taehyung made himself comfortable in your bed, leaning against the white wall. He pat the spot next to him so that you would sit down. You awkwardly did as he asked and Taehyung  took that opportunity to wrap you in the weighted blanket. You felt your body relax almost instantly. He kept his arm around your shoulders, he gave Seokjin a pointed look.

“You feel better right?”

“Better?” Seokjin asked, looking at you as if he just realized you had grown a second head.

“What happened?”

He sat on your other side and pushed Taehyung’s arm off of your shoulders. He twisted you so that you were looking at him. He looked concerned.

“I’m alright Seokjin,” you said with a shrug.

“She’s scared of thunder, hyung. She was having a hard time a little bit ago. Luckily, I noticed and helped her out. Right Y/N?”

“Scared of… Y/N is that true?”

You couldn’t bear the pity in Seokjin’s eyes. You shook your head.

“Can we not talk about it please?”

“Whatever make you the most comfortable Y/n,” Taehyung said pulling you so that your back was against his chest. You widened your eyes at Jin and tried to sit up but Taehyung held you protectively against his chest.

“If you want to talk about it, let me know okay,” Seokjin said, his voice soft. You nodded, trying again without success to pull away from Taehyung.

“So,” Seokjin said, clearly trying to ignore the way that Taehyung seemed to be marking his territory, “What movie should we watch first?”

It was hours later, when the sun had begun to set that you had fallen asleep. Taehyung had your head on his shoulder and Seokjin was stroking your legs comfortingly. Neither men said a thing as the third movie you were watching slowly came to a close. The closing credits began to roll. An old 80’s song played in the background.

It was only when it was completely silent and almost completely dark that Seokjin decided to speak.

“Taehyung-ah, I really think that we should have a conversation about this situation. Like adults.”

Taehyung sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to one of his rivals but your weight, along with the weight of his blanket were pinning him to the spot. He didn’t have a choice.

“What is it hyung?”

Seokjin sighed. It was a couple of seconds before he spoke again.

“It’s clear that we both have taken a liking to Y/N. We don’t have to be petty about all of this. At the end of the day, Y/N is going to be the one to choose who she wants. On top of that, it’s clear that Jungkook also harbors some feelings for her. I think we can all agree that we don’t want to make things difficult for her.”

“Right… so what are you suggesting? We don’t pursue her?”

“Of course not!” Jin whispered.

“Let’s just do our best to not make her feel bad for whomever she chooses.”

“Oh,” said Taehyung, not sure what to say.

“Yeah…well, it’s getting to be dark and it looks like she had a hard day. We should leave her to rest don’t you think?”

Taehyung felt the bed dip and then in the darkness he saw the outline of his hyung. He didn’t want to leave, but at the same time, he didn’t want to stay the night if you hadn’t expressed he could.

“You’re right hyung. You go ahead. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Sounds sketchy… but I’m going to trust you Kim Taehyung. Have a good night.”

“You too hyung.”

And he left. Taehyung sighed. It had been a really trying day for everyone involved. As you breathed deeply, he felt you sigh and cuddle into him further. He melted. His resolve to leave was almost dashed but then he thought of your reaction of the next morning and he knew he must leave.

With careful movements, he maneuvered you onto the pillow. You groaned at the level change but cuddled into his blanket further. In the nearly perfect darkness, he could barely make out a small smile on your lips. Your breathing even and calm. A complete one eighty from earlier that day. He wanted to be the reason for that smile. He prayed he was the reason.

A smile of his own made its way onto his lips. He hadn’t felt so at peace in a while. He made to leave but with a second thought, he leaned down and planted a soft kiss to your forehead. You sighed happily. A blush covered his cheeks.

“Please,” he whispered into your ear, knowing you wouldn’t actually hear him but hoping you might dream of him if you heard his voice, “pick me.”

After a couple of seconds, he straightened and walked towards the door. He reached for the doorknob, satisfied with the day when he heard you moan in your sleep. He froze, wondering if he’d woken you.

Another soft moan, softer than the last but this time it sounded like a word. He waited, in case you said something again.

“Okay,” you groaned followed by soft snores. And Taehyung couldn’t stop smiling.

Taglist: @embrace-themagic​ @monvieesdaebak

[bluejaypirate]

a tale of banal disappointment but its past midnight so it reads like a cracked out odyssey of perfectly mundane experiences being told in an extremely dramatic manner.

about a month or two ago i was doing a late-night target run with my mom for some soap or whatever. Our usual target strategy generally involves her doing all the *actual* shopping, while I get to wander around in the section selling recently released books, movies, video games, music, and show collections. It’s rare that i find anything I’d actually consider buying or even anything worth pirating later, but it beats pretty much every other section if the store, so if i have to be at target, I’ll be there. I don’t own any of the latest video game systems, so that section was a no-go, and the music section was beyond pitiful at that time of day, so it was books or TV. All the show collections they had were either schlock or stupidly expensive, and the only book that looked interesting was a biography of Ida B Wells. I picked it up to show to my mom for approval, and turned toward the movie section, knowing 2020 had not been a good year for the film industry, but giving the shelf a glance just in case. As my eyes traveled downward, any hope i had of finding something halfway watchable diminishing... I saw it. At the very back of the bottom row, there it was:

SpongeBob: The Musical

Now, you have to understand that i am, in a few words, a Giant Fucking Theatre Nerd. I wouldn’t have given this musical even half a chance, had i not been hearing some pretty damn good things about it for the past, what, 4 years?? and this was from my community of online AND irl theatre friends. I knew that a high quality version had aired on Nickelodeon as a special, but I didn’t realize that it was available in dvd! I figured it would be a fun thing to have at least, because i had no real expectations, and while it’s not exactly like i’ve been starving for content over quarantine, finding a new musical to obsess over while having access to high quality footage from it? It felt like Kind of a godsend in that moment, so of course i almost immediately picked it up. I knew my mom wouldn’t exactly want to pay for it, but i had a bit of my own money with me so i figured i’d just buy it for myself. However, while initially very hesitant, she actually did offer to buy it for me if i was so dead set on owning the damn thing (which at that point i very much was), so it was win all around!

or so i thought.

I got home, but I wasn’t sure i wanted to watch it immediately. I have a bit of a problem with getting ahold of media i want to consume, and then sitting on it forever. I remembered it just a week or two ago, and immediately set about watching it. I may have had to kick my sibling out of the basement living room, but they were getting ready to go to sleep anyways¯\_(ツ)_/¯. So i take the box out of the plastic packaging, started watching it, and i was amazed. I had heard good things about it, but nothing in the world could have prepared me for how stupidly well-put-together it was! The costumes i think were what really stuck out to me upon first blush, especially Squidward’s. seriously, those legs are one of the coolest costume pieces i have ever seen. And then came Pearl’s big number, and holy SHIT she did not have to go that hard, but she fucking did and the world is a better damn place for it. Needless to say, my watching experience was going great.

then Super Seastar Savior happened, and the world came crashing down around me.

I have interjected my own story multiple times here, simply because i fancy myself a kind enough person to not put a wall of unbroken text on whichever poor soul’s dash this monstrosity happens to appear, and also i’m an overly dramatic little shithead (if you couldn’t already tell at this point). However, this interruption actually means something, because as long as i type this stupid bullshit to you, i don’t have to think about what comes next, and believe you me, it is not fun. Allow me to remind you, wonderful individual who has made it this far, that i got this dvd brand fucking new. I took the plastic off, and there was no signs of tampering with the packaging when i looked at it later, but just before Patrick’s big number, something happened.

the footage fucking corrupted. The corruption spreads from before Super Seastar Savior all the way through Tomorrow Is and the whole act one finale, let me tell you when i stumbled upon this my blood fucking boiled. I had been sold a defective product! In that moment I did feel the wrath of the very worst of humanity. Why if I had more of a spine (and a driver’s license) i would have gone straight to target then and there; I would have become that which i hate most: a KAREN. 

It’s probably a good thing my parents were already asleep, but DAMMIT i’m still angry about it.The second act is mostly salvageable, but the disc is almost worthless, but i managed to get REALLY attached to the musical already, and i’m extremely salty about it >:( 

[sick-atsumu-side]

5. Mad | Kuroo Tetsurō

Disclaimer: All of the characters belongs to Haruichi Furudate, they’re not mine.

Warnings: description of vomit, phlegm and mucus.

Name: Mad.

I tried to do something different, so hope you like it💘.

“Stupid and damned goblet cells.”

Kuroo’s voice sounded frustrated, but at the same time it felt like he had been drowning on his own mucus and phlegms. However, he just stared at the ground and blew his nose after sneezing on a piece of toilet paper. It was the million time since he had woken up.

Kenma sighed.

“Kuroo, don’t blame your cells. It’s weird.”

The dark haired boy gave him an annoyed look from above with his toilet paper in hand, even if Kenma wasn’t actually looking at him. He wanted to say something about it, since he was being a dick just for woking him up early knowing that Kenma hated that. That wasn’t Kuroo’s fault either because they had planned this before but hey... Kenma was in bad mood and he was sick like a dog.

What a compelling combination.

Kuroo started blowing his nose again after hearing by the speakers of the airport that his flight was about to take off in ten minutes. It was like he has mucus forever, they won’t stop running from his nose even if he wanted to. And hell, he could bet that he looked like Rodolfo the reindeer.

He was very congested, like really. And that made him feel a headache too, he was sure about that.

“You sure you have to go visit your grandma today? You could have waited till next week.”

Kuroo putted the dirty toilet paper in his pocket and then looked at Kenma again with a bit of watery eyes, the typical of a cold. But this seemed quite different, Kenma thought.

“Her birthday is today, not tomorrow or next week. Don’t be so dick now Kenma, please.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m not.” He lied, even if Kenma wouldn’t believe him. “It’s just a cold, when the mucus are gone... this is over.”

Kenma sighed again, still walking to the plane beside Kuroo.

“If your grandma dies from a cold I guess we’ll know who killer her.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes with annoyance.

“Ha ha, how funny.”

The sarcastic laugh didn’t last long, because Kuroo started to cough wetly on his elbow. Kenma just stared at him with disgust before they landed on the plane.

Why does Kuroo never admit things?

It was something Kenma never understood of him.

The setter knew for sure that Kuroo had something more than a simple cold and that he wasn’t totally fine. His bags under his watery eyes, the red nose and his blushing face revealed it, but the stupid decided to go and visit his grandmother anyways.

And there he was, accompanying the stupid in that stupid decision. Not that he really wanted to, but it was Kuroo, he owed It to him.

Kenma were stuck in bed a week before Kuroo started sneezing, and he was there for him all the time. He couldn’t let him all alone in this trip now that he was fine. That wouldn’t be fair.

BUT, Kenma didn’t went off his bed in all week and this was the third day that Kuroo was outside his own house. Responsability, he had said.

What a bullshit.

That wasn’t responsability, it was stupidity and stubbornness.

“Kenma, put on your headphones.” Said Kuroo, after a while sipping water from his bottle.

“Hm.”

“And put-cough your belt on.”

“Okay, mom.”

Kenma sounded more annonyed than he really was, because of his lack of sleep and the stubbornness of Kuroo. However, he putted on his headphones anyway to play a videogame on his phone while Kuroo just stared outside the window.

The flight would not last more than two hours, so they weren’t much worried about it. It was an express trip, not a big deal.

The problem was the coughing or sneezing of Kuroo. Because even if he was with headphones on, Kenma could hear the coughing fits that left his boyfriend breathless. He was quite worried, but when Kuroo sipped water and calmed down, Kenma thought that he would be fine the next hours.

That was until he heard a retch after a wet coughing fit. In that moment, Kenma took off his headphones and looked at the feverish and blushed captain of Nekoma.

“Kuroo, stop.” He said, with a serious look. “Drink some water or whatever, you’re distracting me”.

“Well, thanks for caring.” Kuroo responded, after another hard and wet coughing fit on his elbow.

Kenma hit him on the shoulder.

“Seriously, stop.”

“I can’t.” Kuroo’s voice was raspy and his eyes were more watery than before, Kenma just noticed. “I’m d-cough doing the best I can.”

At that moment, Kuroo showed the water bottle he was carrying and Kenma looked at him with disapproval. But at the same time, he tried to help by rubbing circles on his back.

“Kuroo, do you wan’t me to turn on the air conditioned? I think you need some air.”

Kuroo’s warm, Kenma thought. But he didn’t say anything about it.

“I’m fine.”

The dark haired boy wasn’t fine, actually he was feeling like shit. His nose was stuck with a lot of mucus and at the same time his throat burned like hell, and he could bet that he had a lot of phlegm too. That made him feel sick inside his throat.

“Kuroo, try to breath slowly. Not so fast.”

His head was pounding more than before and his chest felt heavy. However, the worst par of it were the coughing fits. Because he couldn’t stop even drinking water. And the movement made his lungs, nose, chest and throat hurt. His gag reflex was acting because of it too. Everything felt bad inside of him.

Maybe he should have heard Kenma, he thought. But now it was too late. He wouldn’t admit his defeat.

“Hey, you two okay there? Needing some help?”

The both of them turned to face the stewardess worried look. Instinctively, Kuroo nodded with his head, while he was still trying to catch his breath.

“It’s just-cough a cold, don’t worry.” He said, knowing that Kenma wouldn’t talk to that beautiful woman. “I’ll be-cough fine, thank you.”

“Ok, if you need anything just call me.”

“K’ay.”

The girl left them with a soft smile and Kuroo tried to breath slowly, while Kenma was starting to feel anxious. His boyfriend really looked like a dead body right there.

“Kenma, I’m-cough not dying.”

“I know.” He said. “Take deep breaths.”

Kuroo wanted to say something more or just stop coughing so Kenma could be calm. However, he couldn’t do it because his throat itched like hell and he started to cough again.

Kenma patted his back slowly and rubbed it too, with an anxious and a worried look. At the same time, Kuroo opened his legs urgently and bended with his face facing the ground when his gag reflex did a jump and he gagged hard.

Kenma almost freaked out.

“Kuroo, don’t you dare.”

The dark haired boy didn’t listen clearly to Kenma, he just coughed hard again and again between his legs. He couldn’t breath and every coughs ended with painful and wet gags. Now he could even feel something hot rising up his throat.

Oh no.

With extreme urgency he grabbed the first thing he had in sight, which was a lot of toilet paper from his pocket and putted it in his mouth right before retching a lot of phlegms on it. It was disgusting, but Kuroo should’ve sighed in relief if he could.

He really thought that would be vomit.

Kenma wrinkled his nose and stared at him with a worried look. At least he had stopped coughing, but now he was dry heaving. He didn’t know what to say now.

“Kuroo, drink some wat-”

“Kenma, could you pass me the-cough air vomit bag.” Kuroo coughed again and gagged on the piece of toilet paper, releasing a bit of saliva and phlegm.

“Why?”

Kuroo retched more phlegms on the toilet paper and Kenma passed him the bag anyway. He couldn’t deal with vomit and Kuroo knew that. Why was he doing this to him? It wasn’t fair. He told him he was fine, It was just a cold. He...

Kuroo felt something hot rising up his chest again and he inhaled hard before starting to cough hard again. He was losing this fight.

“Kuroo, please try to breath.” Kenma said, still patting on his back while the passengers were looking at him. That made him more anxious than before.

Kuroo just wanted all that cough and feeling of sickness to go away. He really felt sick as a dog, his ears were pounding after every coughing fit and he could feel his breakfast coming up even if he wasn’t nauseous. Maybe he had a fever too, he didn’t know.

Stupid goblet cells.

“Kuroo don’t-”

Even if Kenma wanted to stop it, Kuroo couldn’t. He retched without advice and a pale brown liquid poured from his throat, ending on the plastic bag with a sickening sound. He coughed hard at the end.

Then he tried to say something but more warm liquid poured out from his mouth and nose, making the feeling more hard for him. It hurted like hell and his ears were still pounding.

And Kenma, oh wait.

“I told you. I fucking told you.” Now Kenma was in totally panic but tried to stay calm since they were in a plane with more people. But he was mad. “Why don’t you ever listen to me? Don’t fucking push yourself to this point, your grandmother would have understood. You know that.”

Yes. He knew that.

Kuroo burped and coughed a bit more of his breakfast and phlegms inside the soiled plastic bag, before he was left dry heaving and gagging.

“Stupid Kuroo.”

He felt too gross to respond that. The phlegms were too disgusting and so was vomiting. But he has to admit that he felt a little bit relieved, because all that mucus and phlegms were gone in that disgusting bag. Now he could breath a little more.

“You disgusting and stubborn animal.”

The captain of Nekoma gagged again at the taste, but nothing came up. Just saliva and mucus. Then he spitted on it and wiped his nose with toilet paper. After that, when he felt sure to let the bag away, the girl from before took it for him with a sad smile.

Kuroo felt asshamed. But now he could breath and wasn’t coughing, even if his throat was hurting like hell it was better than cough every damn second. The headache was another thing.

Hell, he was really sick.

“Where did you put my water?” Kuroo asked, and Kenma passed it to him saying nothing. His face was a totally bad mood. “Don’t be mad, Kenma. Now I can breath. You should be happy for me.”

After saying that, Kuroo started drinking sips of his water bottle, so Kenma pressed the bottle hard so Kuroo would drown. The dark haired boy coughed again, but it wasn’t a coughing fit.

“You wanna kill me?!” Kuroo stared at him with shock.

“That’s for being a stubborn.” Kenma said. “And for scaring me.”

“Kenma...”

“And you smell like vomit, disgusting.”

Kuroo sighed.

“Kenma, you can’t be mad at me for throwing up. You’re the one who gave me this germ in first place.” He said, closing the bottle of water.

Kenma gave him a look of bad mood.

“I’m sorry, I should have listened to you. I know.” Kuroo took Kenma’s hand and sighed again. “I won’t worry you again, I promise.”

“Promise me you’ll rest when we arrive, because If you didn't know, you have a fever.”

Oh, that makes sense. How did Kenma knew that?

Kuroo sighed shakily, still with watery eyes and the blushed face because of the fever.

“I promise.” He said, still holding Kenma’s hand. “But don’t be mad at me. I felt relieved because now I can breath but I still don’t feel too good, you know.”

Kenma looked at his blushing face and sighed too, because the truth was that he was never really mad at him. Kenma was just worried because he loved him, more than anything.

And yes, Kuroo was a stubborn but was HIS stubborn. And he was going to take care of him.

[lemonietrinket]

Candy Baby ||| Yuta x Reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend are shopping at a special lingerie store. Though not for the reasons that anyone may first expect... Genre: Comedy Warning(s): Swearing, quite low level tho (1x s**t) Word Count: 1027 Theme Song: Santa Baby - Eartha Kitt (or whichever artist you prefer, the number of covers of this song o.O) AN: The 21st December prompt, from @songi-writes, yeah it’s late, but it’s a Christmas present instead! Merry Christmas!!

~~~

You could barely breathe, your sides stabbed repeatedly with giddiness as you laughed so hard you keeled over onto your back on the bed.

This only sparked Yuta to laugh even harder, his hand rest on your arms as the two of you shook. “B...! Ba—bab...y! Are... a-are you—?!” He collapsed onto the duvet too as you let out another howl, shaking your head with tears brimming in your eyes.

“Yuta what have you done?!” you wheezed, clutching at your stomach. “That image is stuck in my head forever! N-now—y-you shit what have you done?!”

He merely cackled.

Yuta had been browsing online stores, trying to decide what to buy several of his fellow groupmates for christmas. He’d only managed to buy presents for Mark and Winwin (no surprise there, he’d bought their presents months in advance) so far, and that left many more members left to buy for. Since all of them were your close friends too, you decided to offer assistance.

The two of you were a strangely efficient team, and managed to buy a multitude of gifts. On the other hand, it had exhausted many options, and for the last few members, the two of you had stagnated. To the point that you jokingly suggested that the two of you buy someone a set of lingerie.

Yuta ran with it, eyes alight and smile wide in glee, as he opened up lingerie store after lingerie store to find the perfect set. After exhausting several websites, you’d headed to the dreaded page 2 of google, desperate to find glory in rosy, satin lace. And that was where the fun had began.

Now, all of the stores had christmas sales, it being the season to be jolly and all. However, one website you had found had the worst lingerie you had ever seen.

We’re talking 100% synthetic plastic, ugly tinsel accent, and two disgusting shades of green and red.  You and your boyfriend had cracked up about it, tearing it to shreds, almost sending a photo of it to Johnny for him to evaluate.

And then—then—Yuta said the magic words:

“Imagine Kun in that.”

You had screamed in horrified delight, the mental image being too much to handle as you fell into fits of laughter, likely worrying the neighbours.

And this was how you were now, rolling on your shoulders as your hands weakly gripped at Yuta’s shirt.

“We should...! We should buy it for him...!” he insisted, as you shook your head desperately.

“We can’t!” you shrieked. “He’d kill us both!”

He whined in disappointment as he pouted, eyes still on fire from joy, as he sat up, retrieving the laptop. “Ok, but we are totally buying him lingerie.”

You wiped your eyes, feeling the air slowly return to your lungs. “Oh, of course! That way he can only kill one of us, at worst.”

“I’ll sacrifice myself for you, don’t worry,” Yuta giggled, fingers flying across the keyboard as he opened google back up and clicked on page three—a destination unheard of by any living being with their soul still intact.

There, he opened up the next store. The website was very clean and minimal, with a delicate rose quartz background and tiny snowflakes dotting the layout.  You raised yourself up on the bed, coming to sit up and lean upon Yuta’s shoulder. Pressing a kiss to his jaw, your eyes swept the store for anything good.

Scrolling down, he almost reached the bottom of the page when you suddenly exclaimed, “Stop!”

You pointed to the penultimate row, at a piece of pure beauty. 

The lingerie was called Candy Baby, which made you snort, but it was extremely pretty. Coloured peach with a tinge of pastel pink, it was a two piece with an unwired bralette.  A long bow made of lighter ribbon was embedded neatly at the front, with short flowy sheets of satin that rested no lower than the waist.  The lower half was a loose, delicate skirt, with no extraneous lace designs. It was long enough to cover what needed to be hidden for suspense, but short enough to entice.

You were almost jealous of where it was going.

“That is the one!” you asserted.

He smirked, kissing your forehead, before immediately setting up an account to purchase it. “Good choice, baby. This is going to be hilarious!” He sighed. “You really are the one for me.” 

You blushed, nuzzling into his neck to avoid his confident, dazzling stare.

He hummed coyly, almost to the point that it became a purr. “Maybe I should buy you some of this lingerie—”

“Oh my god, Yuta! Stop!”

.

.

.

When Kun opened the box in front of everyone, gathered in the living room, many hushed and leaned in to see what it was.  Only when he held up the delicate rose satin was there pure silence. Only the christmas songs over the stereo in the kitchen could be heard, and it felt so distant. 

And then everyone roared into laughter, cheering and patting Kun on the shoulder.

“Oh it’s beautiful, Kun!” Haechan exaggerated, snickering.

“You better enjoy that!” Ten smirked, eyeing the lace before sipping his wine. “Looks to me that it wasn’t overly cheap!”

As Chenle questioned Jisung about how Ten knew that, Johnny was applauding the two of you.  “You absolute legends!” he said. “Makes my present for Jaehyun just look mean!”

Kun meanwhile seemed frozen, his eyes the size of dinner plates as he stared at the lingerie nervously. Then, he looked up at the two of you, giggling from the other side of the room.

He stood silently, lips placed firmly together, the corners ever so slightly upturned as he hid a smile.

“You like your christmas present, Kun?” Yuta sang. 

“Yeah! Isn’t it great!” you cried. “It was Yuta’s idea!” 

“Hey! It was not! It was your—!”

Kun began to step towards you, bra and panties clenched in his fist.

“Oh, Kun, come on now!” you tutted. “Listen to what Ten said—it was expensive and you should be careful with—!”

This only made him increase his speed.

“Run!” Mark called.

And neither Yuta nor you ignored him.

~~~

AN: I know I said there was a Yuta fic coming ages ago. And there is one! It’s just still in my drafts, half written. So this is like an apology for that too :((

Masterlist

[aion-rsa]

The 21 Best Christmas Horror Movies

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Technicolor lights are about to illuminate every other home in the neighborhood; carolers are marching through the streets; even that old tree in Rockefeller is shining brightly.

For some folks, that’s enough to make you want to grab an axe. But don’t do that. Watch demented men dressed as Santa Claus or a demon Krampus indulge your Anti-Christmas sentiments with maximum gore. Indeed, this list isn’t about the most charming, heartwarming, or schmaltzy Christmas viewing traditions. Nah, this is about the 20 grossest, nastiest, and all around most fun Christmas horror movies. The kind where the greatest gift you’re going to get on Christmas morning is escaping with your life and maybe some psychological triggers whenever you see jolly men in red suits.

Yep, these are the very best Christmas horror movies. Ho. Freaking. Ho.

Anna and the Apocalypse (2017)

Almost certainly one of the sweetest, most positive, and upbeat Christmas movies on the list is this wonderful feel good musical romance from director John McPhail, which also happens to be a zombie movie. It follows a group of friends in a small Scottish town who are just about to finish school and are making plans for the future when a zombie outbreak lands. 

Incredibly catchy tunes which take inspiration from Buffy musical episode Once More With Feeling, mix with inventive festive kills – zombie snowman decapitation is a highlight – in a way that manages not to tonally jar. It’s mostly thanks to the super-likeable performances of the young cast, headed up by Ella Hunt, and the teenage troubles, romances, and heartbreak which form the backdrop of the movie. Paul Kaye also pops up as the school’s tyrannical headmaster – his musical numbers aren’t the best but he brings cartoon villain energy to an unusual but rather adorable Christmas horror that’s way better than you might expect.

– Rosie Fletcher

Better Watch Out (2016)

Home Alone is surely one of the most popular and iconic Christmas movies of all time, though it is not, of course, a horror. However, if it was, it would look something like Better Watch Out, a slick reinvention of the home invasion sub-genre. Olivia DeJonge plays babysitter Ashley, who attempts to protect her charge, 12-year-old Luke (Levi Miller), when they are threatened by intruders in his home. But all is not as it seems.

DeJonge and Miller spar beautifully in a movie which plays with gender and coming of age tropes and includes handfuls of gruesome set pieces, while Ed Oxenbould brings comic relief. This is clever, funny and gruesome stuff from director Chris Peckover which might not become a new Christmas tradition but should definitely be watched at least once.

– Rosie Fletcher

Black Christmas (1974)

Getting stabbed by a unicorn head to the tune of carolers singing “Silent Night” is probably not how you want to spend Christmas Eve. This pre-Scream holiday slasher claims its victims in a sorority house haunted by creepy phone calls (sans ghost mask), demonic noises, bodies eerily shrouded in plastic wrap, and one perverse killer whose voice alone is enough to freeze your blood.

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When an unidentified caller keeps harassing your entire sorority house with obscene things you can only half-understand (because he sounds like a deranged Donald Duck that laughs like the Joker), you should run even if it is 10 degrees outside. The blizzard of murders keeps raging with one victim dragged screaming by a hook, and another bludgeoned to death. Never mind the one suffocated by plastic wrap and left next to the window like the vacant face of a doll staring out into the night. You’ll hardly sleep in heavenly peace after this one.

– Elizabeth Rayne 

Christmas Evil (aka You Better Watch Out) (1980)

In his one and only film as writer/director, Lewis Jackson crafted a smart and clever black comedy that’s more character study than straight horror film. John Waters insists it’s a comedy about a closeted transvestite (of a sort), but it’s much more than that—it’s the Taxi Driver of Yuletide shockers. Brandon Maggart plays a man who takes Christmas way too seriously. His home is filled with bright holiday decorations all year-round while Christmas carols are playing on the stereo. Santa is his role model, a symbol of all that is good and just in the world. He even works at a toy factory.

He so identifies with Santa, he takes to spying on the neighbor kids, keeping his own carefully annotated naughty and nice lists. But when he recognizes the level of cynicism and hypocrisy among his co-workers, bosses, and the people around town as the most joyous time of the year approaches, well, he goes a little funny in the head. He reaches for the suit and beard and axe, determined to reward the good and punish the evil.

Maggart has since tried to desperately distance himself from the film, but he gives a remarkable performance here as a completely isolated figure with a head swimming with both joy and rage. In the end, the film remains king of the sub-subgenre. Screw It’s a Wonderful Life and Rudolph. Apart from Blast of Silence and Invasion U.S.A., Christmas Evil is the only holiday film I watch annually.

– Jim Knipfel 

A Christmas Horror Story (2015)

Admittedly, a number of horror-based Christmas movie have gone with the anthology angle for their storytelling. Hell, this isn’t even the only anthology film on this list. A Christmas Horror Story may not be on a lot of people’s radar, but it’s a worthy installment that goes to some unusual places purely because both the Christmas and anthology playgrounds have gotten so bloated at this point. This film also benefits from being executed by a cabal of directors who are responsible for directing some of the best horror movies to come out of Canada in passing years, such as Splice, the Black Christmas remake, and the Ginger Snaps trilogy.

A Christmas Horror Story deliciously uses a radio DJ (William Shatner) as the connective tissue that holds together the four stories that comprise the film. Parables on ghost possession, clone doppelgangers, Krampus, and zombie elves all get their due here. The film also has a pretty inspired ending that actually casts the picture in a whole new light. It’s got Santa Claus fighting Krampus. What’s not to like?

– Daniel Kurland 

Dead of Night (1945)

Never play hide and go seek in a house where someone was murdered. While it might be best known for Michael Redgrave’s night-terror-inducing ventriloquist dummy scene that sparked the phobia of possessed puppets, Dead of Night also invites you to a Christmas party with a spectral guest. Spacecase Sally’s genuine terror at realizing what she thinks she saw is what she really saw will forever have you second-guessing shadows creeping in the cold. 

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What is obvious in this scene—encroaching darkness and shadows looming over what a place you know is haunted without ever having to hear the big reveal—is hardly as chilling as what is not so obvious until the truth silently materializes. The ghost of the little boy plays hide-and-seek with the other children as if warm blood courses through his veins. Unlike many stereotypical see-through phantoms of the era, this one doesn’t have that telltale translucence which would set off a chorus of screams. Being almost disturbingly normal is exactly what makes him so terrifying. 

– Elizabeth Rayne 

Eyes Wide Shut (1999)

Eyes Wide Shut was the non-denominational star at the top of Stanley Kubrick’s Christmas tree. Originally conceived as a Woody Allen vehicle, it almost starred Steve Martin after Allen insisted on reading the script from right to left. It is as much a cautionary tale as Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, bringing the whole family together with a different Christmas tree in almost every frame.  

Kubrick pours on the cheer from the opening sequence at the Christmas party where the first gifts are unwrapped, and oh boy are they unwrapped. Bill Harford, played by Tom Cruise, dives right into the muffled spirit of giving after he performs a more than charitable deed for the party’s host, played by Sydney Pollack.

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Harford spends most of the film looking for the perfect gift like a slow motion version of Jingle All the Way, rushing around from New York City’s famous toy repository FAO Schwartz to downtown specialty shops, to the suburbs, where he can find collectors’ editions. Cruise pays Harford like a wooden windup toy, and not a particularly cute one, either. In spite of all the colorful lights and trips above and below the rainbow, Harford just can’t get into the Christmas spirit. He’s not even moved by the uplifting seasonal tunings of “I Want a Boy for Christmas” by the Del-Vettes. He recovers his seasonal facilities while humming along to the chant during the climactic illuminati sex party, though! The song is actually “Here Comes Santa Claus” sung backwards in Latin, adding more menace to the proceedings than Silas Barnaby brought to Toyland in The March of the Wooden Soldiers.

– Tony Sokol 

Gremlins (1984)

Santa doesn’t exist… unless it’s your father in a red suit who met his untimely end trying to slide down the chimney with a sack of presents before getting stuck. Don’t tell that to the innocent bat-like ears of a harmless (for now) Mogwai. It’s exactly the kind of story you expect to hear while hunkering down in the shadows with a flashlight while a bunch of leathery green things with too many teeth ransack the neighborhood.

And as for Santa? That smell coming from the fireplace weeks later was no dead cat. Worst. Christmas story. Ever. 

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This movie should be on every hardcore horror fan’s holiday playlist just for the musical monstrosity of those reptilian things decked out in Santa hats and earmuffs singing “Deck the Halls” at the neighbors’ door, sheet music and all. This is continuing proof that animals have a sixth sense, because her yowling cat senses something off about the voices warbling “Joy to the World” outside. She’s right to have an aversion to Christmas carolers.

– Elizabeth Rayne 

Holidays (2015)

There have been so many holiday-themed horror films at this point—reaching Christmas and going far, far beyond that—so why not make an anthology film that takes that idea to the extreme? Holidays hits the expected staples such as Christmas, Halloween, and Valentine’s Day, but part of the fun here is how holidays with lesser expectations like Easter or St. Patrick’s Day deliver some truly horrifying content (seriously, the St. Patrick’s Day segment is disturbing, bonkers chaos).

The Christmas segment comes courtesy of Scott Stewart (Legion) and has Seth Green trying to survive the holiday as he attempts to get his son the perfect gift. Stewart’s installment feels very reminiscent of a Black Mirror episode with virtual reality, consumerism, and the dangers of mob mentality all playing their part here.

A lot of these anthology films also try to bank off of the name recognition and notoriety of the assembled directors, but Holidays proudly features a collection of mostly fresh faces (although Kevin Smith and Starry Eye’s Kevin Kolsch contribute segments). It’s fun to discover a bunch of new blossoming talents here.

– Daniel Kurland 

Jack Frost (1997)

This ain’t the cringeworthy father/son bonding vehicle starring Michael Keaton. No, this is the Jack Frost where the killer snowman’s nose functions as both a killing tool and a device to sexually assault his victims. All square? But hey, at the least the film isn’t afraid to ride its ridiculous premise as hard as possible.

First of all, an actual killer named Jack Frost crashes into a truck of “genetics material” that causes him to transform into this cold abomination in the first place. That sets the tone pretty nicely for the abundant murders, sex, and plot holes that plague the town of Snowmonton (yup). It’s hard to believe that this film got made, with all of the visuals being some real spectacles that you don’t typically see in the horror genre.

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Jack Frost is the perfect Christmas horror film to shut your brain off and watch, or the title that you should be selecting right in the middle of your deep eggnog haze. It’s utter nonsense, but it knows that it is and has tons of fun with itself. We need more talented individuals trying to tap into the killer snowman subgenre. There’s still a true classic waiting to come to life here.

– Daniel Kurland 

Krampus (2015)

Morbidly funny in its anti-holiday sarcasm and ridiculous demons, Krampus is like a mashup of the Griswolds, the Grinch, and every mythical beast that has ever been rumored to devour children on the naughty list. You’d rather get coal in your stocking than a killer jack-in-the-box jump scare… or find chilling hoof prints in the snow that are definitely not from Rudolph.

Krampus is one Yuletide monster actually worse than the Grinch. The grisly inspiration for this tale is a Germanic one about a hairy, horned, and cloven-hooved demon who stuffs naughty children in his sack and either beats them with a wooden switch or eats them (depending on who you ask). Also, his heart won’t grow three sizes from gorging on human flesh, either.

This version of Krampus is also hungry for anyone who’s lost their holiday spirit—whether or not you otherwise qualify for the nice list. Watch this with the lights off for the full effect of the power outage that works to the creature’s advantage as he goes hunting for holiday nonbelievers. Kids, don’t scorn Santa or Krampus will come to collect you.

– Elizabeth Rayne 

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)

There are some of us who know this movie verbatim and to the point where we will shamelessly break out singing “This is Halloween” and raise Jack’s quasi-Shakespearean monologue from the dead even in the middle of July. Or keep warning people that tragedy’s at hand. Or correct anyone who says there are 365 days until next Halloween by growling “364!” The stop-motion animation saga of the talking skeleton turned “Sandy Claws” bewitched an entire generation of ‘90s kids. 

Even people who hate Halloween will stare with delight and awe when Jack’s skull bursts out of a snowdrift, and he first puts colored lights in his eye sockets and explores every “what’s this?” in Christmas Town like a spook in a coffin shop. You just can’t help but love the adventurous skeleton, even if he does end up making haunted houses out of people’s living rooms on Christmas Eve. Whether you’d rather be making Christmas with strangely somber carols, reanimated reindeer or toys that bite back, it’s now an officially unofficial holiday classic.

– Elizabeth Rayne 

P2 (2007)

On the sillier end of the Christmas horror spectrum comes P2, a film named after a section in a parking lot, starring Wes Bentley and Rachel Nichols. She’s a business woman trapped in a multi-story parking garage on Christmas Eve, he’s the insane Security Guard who’s obsessed with her and really wants her to try his festive eggnog, so to speak. 

Camp and gory, this is the directorial debut of Franck Khalfoun who would follow it up with a remake of Maniac. The movie was co-written by Alexandre Aja who made one of the greatest cat-and-mousers ever in Switchblade Romance. The set up is formulaic, perhaps, but the game performances and relentlessness of the action makes this worthwhile. And if that’s not enough check out a deranged Bentley dressed as Santa, for the angel on the top of the Christmas tree.

– Rosie Fletcher

Rare Exports (2010)

There couldn’t possibly be a more sinister place to search for Santa’s ancient burial mound than in the frigid depths of Lapland. It’s the same supposedly enchanted place Dick van Dyke hiked to in the search for Santa in an ‘80s musical Christmas special, except this time you won’t find him in a cozy cottage with stockings hung by the chimney with care. You won’t find the guy in red from the mall, but anything that takes a disembodied pig’s head as bait couldn’t possibly be jingle-belling on a sleigh with eight tiny reindeer, especially when he seems to have a ravenous appetite for said reindeer. 

This time, “the spirit of the season” is literally the most malicious Christmas spirit that has ever terrorized the Yuletide. Even if you watch the whole thing in Finnish and don’t understand a word except the screaming, the ghost of the child in you that really did believe there was a guy in the North Pole will be forever traumatized. This glaze-eyed zombie incarnation of Mr. Claus doesn’t laugh like a bowl full of jelly. You better watch out, indeed.

– Elizabeth Rayne

Santa Claws (1996)

You do have to wonder what happened to John Russo along the line. 30 years after co-writing Night of the Living Dead, he came up with this decidedly sleazy but sadly unoriginal wonderment, which was much more focused on boobs than Yuletide butchery. In what by that point had become a battered cliché of the Slasher Santa subgenre, a young boy named Wayne (Grant Kramer) sees his mom having sex with a man wearing a Santa hat (!), and so murders them both. I’m not exactly sure how this transference would work in Freudian terms, but when he gets older, he a) becomes obsessed with a low-budget scream queen named Raven (played by low-budget scream queen Debbie Rochon) and b) decides he’s Santa.

As you might imagine, stalking someone when you’re wearing a Santa suit is no mean feat, but Wayne gives it his best shot. Most of the film, however, focuses on Raven and her extended family as she gets undressed a lot and wonders not only why that creep in the Santa suit keeps showing up everywhere, but why everyone around her keeps dying in a particularly bloody fashion. It can feel like there are two films going on here, a by-the-numbers stalker/slasher movie and a holiday horror film, which leaves me thinking Russo had one of them in mind, but after some eight-year-old smarty-pants came up with that clever “Santa Claws” pun, well, he just had to run with it.

– Jim Knipfel

Santa’s Slay (2005)

Christmas can sure scare the Dickens out of people. Hence why you can’t not watch a holiday horror flick in which Santa is the Antichrist, sentenced to 1,000 years of delivering gifts after losing a curling match with an angel, and played by former pro wrestler Bill “Who’s Next?” Goldberg.

As the only son of Satan (you know what they say about rearranging the letters in that name) whose grim legend is immortalized in the Book of Claus, he can now at last spread Christmas fear with weapons, karate kicks, hand grenades, exploding presents, and his own perverse idea of what “Ho ho ho” should really mean. Them’s the breaks once the bet’s terms are done.

Read more

Movies

MST3K: A Christmas Episodes Guide for Mystery Science Theater 3000

By Gavin Jasper

TV

Christmas in The Twilight Zone: Revisiting Night of the Meek

By Arlen Schumer

Santa’s methods of murder are fiendishly festive—to say the least. There is no naughty or nice list when it comes to an insatiable appetite for violence. He even knocks out poseurs in red suits and drives a sleigh with a rocket engine like it’s the Batmobile. Mall Santas everywhere are shaking in their pleather boots.

– Elizabeth Rayne 

Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)

Naughty children get punished with more than just a stocking full of coal in this Christmas chiller. Just the opening scene with all those empty-eyed animatronic toys haunting a window display after-hours should tell you that this is not a movie that’s going to end in visions of sugarplums. Forget that it’s supposed to be the season of all things magical. Those things can be more terrifying than every single plastic skeleton and gaping zombie mask you’ll ever see in a haunted house around Halloween.

You’d better watch out for that psycho in the red suit who grabs a hatchet off the wall as if it was his bag full of toys and packs an automatic pistol in his fur-lined pocket, murdering misbehaving kids he’s been watching undercover of shadow. This sadistic Santa clearly doesn’t believe in sliding down chimneys—and the only red he’s interested in wearing is the blood of innocents. If that won’t convince you to stay awake because he sees you when you’re sleeping, you must be Freddie Krueger.

– Elizabeth Rayne

Silent Night, Deadly Night Part 2 (1987)

Three years after the shit-storm sparked by the original’s ad campaign, some smart cookie decided a sequel was necessary. A tough call there, given most all the principals were killed off pretty thoroughly the first time around, but still, right?

But there was money to be made, so they brought in an untested director (Lee Harry), a mostly untested crew, and a cast of mostly non-professional actors. After a half-dozen writers took a swipe at the script, they came up with a confounding but tepid rehash of the first film. This time around, and mostly in flashback, we learn that after the first killer Santa was sloppily dispatched at the end of Part 1, his brother Ricky becomes determined to uncover what went wrong.

Read more

Movies

9 Jolly Santa Slasher Movies

By Jim Knipfel

TV

100 Best Christmas TV Episodes of All Time

By Wesley Mead

He pays a visit to the sadistic Mother Superior at the Catholic asylum where his brother had been kept, and before you can say “ho ho ho,” Ricky ends up donning the red and white suit himself to do a little rampaging, though without nearly half of his brother’s imagination. They even used the same fucking poster design, just slapped a “2” on it. I guess hoping they might raise the same sort of ruckus the first one had. Sadly, it was too late for that.

– Jim Knipfel 

Sint (2010)

Dutch director Dick Maas took some early steps toward Krampus territory with his re-imagining of the legend of the warm-hearted Saint Nick. Borrowing heavily from earlier Italian, Spanish, and American horror films, as well as Danish folklore, “Sinterklaas” here was actually a bloodthirsty medieval murderer and all around brute who oversaw a savage reign of terror. Finally fed up with all his nonsense, the ornery local villagers banded together on the night of Dec. 5 and lynched him. As per tradition, however, in the moments before he died Sinterklaas vowed vengeance from beyond the grave, promising to return every 32 years on that very night to do bad and icky things to the villagers’ descendants.

Over the centuries, the story was mainstreamed and soft-pedaled, becoming part of the local folklore. The character of Saint Nick became much more benevolent and child-friendly so as not to scare the wee folk. Then, well, wouldn’t you know it? That anniversary creeps around again, Sinterklaas is true to his word, and Amsterdam turns all bloody, leaving it up to an intrepid teenager named Frank to put a stop to the mayhem.

Read more

Movies

The Best Christmas Movie Soundtracks of All Time

By Ivan Radford

TV

The Twilight Zone Marathon: A History of a Holiday Tradition

By Arlen Schumer

A stylish, wicked, and hugely entertaining take on the darker history of a beloved legend. It was also the top grossing film in Denmark in 2010, which either says something about the Danish film industry or the Dutch themselves.

– Jim Knipfel

Tales From the Crypt: And All Through the House (1972)

The Crypt Keeper first emerged as a ghoulish EC Comics horror host in the pages of Tales From the Crypt who crawled onto the big screen in this horror anthology, welcoming unknowing tourists to his catacombs with bony arms open. What the tourists don’t know is that they’re all recently deceased. The invite is to a subterranean story-time in which he unearths the gruesome details of their deaths with a gap-toothed grin. Creatures are obviously stirring when killer wife Joanne is stalked by a homicidal Santa in this warped homage to ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas titled (appropriately enough) “… And All Through the House.”

So it is that “O Come All Ye Faithful” is interrupted while playing on the radio by a scratchy warning of a homicidal maniac run amok. And wouldn’t you just know it, this occurs right as Joan Collins is offing her husband with a shot to the head—and then realizes she has to dismember the body before cashing in on his life insurance. Her blissfully naïve daughter lets the killer jolly old elf in, shrieking that Santa finally came before he erupts into psychopathic rage. Clement C. Moore must be turning in his grave.

– Elizabeth Rayne 

The Wolf of Snow Hollow

Certainly less purely Christmas-y than other entries on this list, The Wolf of Snow Hollow is nonetheless a wintry delight set during the holiday season. Carols play ominously in the background during key moments, and the immaculately snowy white setting of Snow Hollow, Utah is broken only by splashes of color from lights on homes and Christmas trees. Oh yes, and the blood of the titular werewolf’s victims.

Read more

Movies

The Wolf of Snow Hollow Review: A Quirky Werewolf Movie

By Don Kaye

Movies

13 Must-See Werewolf Movies

By Mike Cecchini

Jim Cummings’ film is heavy on cozy, ski town holiday atmosphere without leaning on its actual Christmastime setting at all. But good werewolf movies are a rare breed indeed these days, and a werewolf movie set at Christmas? Well…now you know what to watch when the moon is full each December

Mike Cecchini

Got any other suggestions for Christmas horror movies that we missed? Let us know in the comments!

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The post The 21 Best Christmas Horror Movies appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2Jwjb4Q

[ragewerthers]

Shield Down

Summary:  Caravan's were not made for people like Gladiolus. When a cleaning spree goes wrong will the Chocobro's be able to help?

A/n: This is another wonderful prompt from my friend @bgn846​ for our F3S

!She asked for: "Gladio is tidying up the caravan and literally gets his broad shouldered frame stuck in between the wall and some piece of built in furniture. Of course it takes all three of his friends and maybe a crowbar to get him unstuck."

This was incredibly fun to write and I loved getting to write him slightly silly and out of his element! XD

You can also read on AO3 at: 

Happy reading! :D

Word Count: 1963

-------------------------------- Staying in a caravan had its ups and downs.

For Ignis, the kitchen left everything to be desired.

For Noct the beds were no more comfortable than the rocks of the Haven.

For Prompto, the aluminum siding always seemed to play havoc with his electronics.

For Gladio… it was the size.

Try being a 6’5” man attempting to live inside a sardine tin.  It wasn’t a pretty sight.

Trying to sleep in the bed?  Don’t fit.

Trying to take a shower?  Don’t fit.

Trying to squeeze past Prompto to grab breakfast?  Nobody fit.

It was horrible!  However… it was home.  At least for the short time that they paid for the rental and being such, everyone still had to do their part to keep their little slice of home habitable.  It was one of those days where Ignis was out shopping for some ingredients and the mayhem twins were off gathering potions that Gladio decided to do his part and tidy up the camper.

Ignis wasn’t the only one who enjoyed things being tidy and given the chance, Noctis and Prompto would allow their small home to become a hovel so best to try and tidy it up now.

First things first… picking up every wrapper and chip bag the chuckleheads had decided was too burdensome to carry to the trash bin.  Gladio moved around the tiny space, finding the damn things crammed into almost every crevice.

A chip bag in the sink.

A few candy wrappers somehow trailed into the bathroom.

There was even an ebony can… an ebony can... that had rolled under the table and come to rest against the space between the wall and one of the seats.

Gladio was caught somewhere between shock and amusement that Ignis had added to the mess, if only on accident.  There was a small part of him that debated taking a picture of this as evidence for future teasing, but… he valued his life and safety so he tucked his phone away once more.

And then promptly pulled it out again to snap a picture.

It was just too good to pass up.

Setting his phone on the table he crouched down and began to shuffle his way underneath the cheap plastic and metal piece to try and reach the damn thing.  Finally, his hand managed to grab the small can and he started to shuffle his way backwards.

Or at least… he tried.

With the campers being as tight and tiny as they were this meant that the furniture was also tiny.  There were times Gladio wondered if these vehicles were rented out to toddlers and fae folk specifically as they would probably be the only ones able to fit.  What was happening now only drilled that fact home.

Somehow… he’d managed to wedge himself rather firmly between the one metal bar used to prop up the plastic tabletop and one of the seats.  And now, it seemed like no matter what he did, he was well and truly stuck.

He rolled his shoulders, shimmied his hips and even tried to move forward in a weird attempt to pull a U-turn and come around the metal pole.  This was his worst decision by far and fifteen minutes later found him lying on his stomach on the rough and sandy carpeting, contemplating what he could’ve done to deserve this.

Many, many, many things came to mind, but they were all hilarious and he didn’t regret them a bit.

“Gladio?  Gladiolus are you still here?”

Okay… maybe he regretted them a little.

“Yeah!  I’m… I’m still here!” Gladio called, getting back up on his knees as he heard Ignis calling him through the door.

“Oh, wonderful.  Could you grab the door for me?  I’m afraid my hands are a bit full at the moment,” Ignis called back, the sound of shifting paper bags easily heard through the caravan’s door.

“Uuuhhh… no,” Gladio answered honestly, trying once more to squeeze his large, muscled shoulders past the seat and metal bar.

“What?  What do you mean ‘no’?” Ignis asked, the pitch of his voice making Gladio wonder if he would be better off to hide under this table forever.

“I mean… it’s more of… I… can’t,” he grumbled, shaking his body a bit and jostling the table.  Sadly it still remained immovable and he huffed.  “I’m a bit… stuck, Iggy.”

There was a pause where Gladio thought perhaps the Adviser hadn’t heard him.

The snort that resounded a second later told him he had thought incorrectly.

“You have got to be joking,” Ignis asked, the sound of a barely contained chuckle evident in his voice and Gladio would’ve found it cute if it wasn’t so embarrassing.  The next thing he heard was the sound of the grocery bags being set on the table outside and then the creaking of the caravan’s door.

Gladio felt Ignis’s footsteps vibrate through the floor and at this moment the only thing he could be grateful for was the fact that being stuck down here allowed him to hide the flush of embarrassment riding high on his cheeks.

“And what have we here?  Were you trying to play hide and seek by yourself, Gladio?” Ignis asked, though this time there was no hiding the laughter in his voice.

“Oh ha, ha.  You’re hilarious,” Gladio grumbled.  “No!  I was cleaning up and got stuck down here getting your Ebony can!  So… really this is all your fault.”

“What?!  I would never leave litter lying around,” Ignis huffed, Gladio smiling as he knew the man was probably standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh yeah?  I got picture proof,” Gladio stated smugly, soon hearing the soft ‘beep’ of something overhead.  The noise suspiciously sounding like the buttons of a phone being hit.

“Not anymore you don’t,” Ignis replied, setting Gladio’s phone back down on the table.  “And if you ever dream of coming out from under there you will hand me that can right now.”

It was Gladoi’s turn to make a little indignant huff, but… he really was getting sick of being trapped down here in the land of dust bunnies and undertable gum which he was lucky enough not to have gotten his hair stuck in… yet.

“Fine!  Here… just… help me get out of here,” Gladio mumbled, reaching behind him to hand off the Ebony can, hearing the crinkle of it being crushed in Ignis’s hand before it clattered into the trash bin.

“Alright.  Now that we have that out of the way, lets see what we can do here,” Ignis mused, stepping a little closer.

Gladio felt Ignis kneel down to the left of him, the man probably ducking down to try and find an easy way to free him.

“Have you tried turning your body a bit more?  Leaning to the side and keeping your shoulders vertical with each other instead of horizontal?”

“Tried it.  I seem to end up getting lodged somewhere near my lower ribs then and I don’t understand how,” Gladio answered honestly.

“Hmm… here… try it again and I’ll see if I can’t guide you out.  Like backing up the Regalia… sort of,” he murmured and Gladio could still hear the smile in his voice.  However, he was grateful for the help now and nodded.

“Okay… here I come,” Gladio warned as he started to shuffle backwards… before instantly shouting and shooting forwards again.  Ridiculous laughter was bubbling up out of his chest as Ignis’s hands had found his lower ribs and were squeezing just a bit too much, sening the Shield into a ridiculous giggle fit.

“Gladiolus?!  Gladio what’s wrong?” Ignis asked, slightly stunned, taking the sudden movement as a bad thing before the sounds of laughter finally registered.  “Oh gods…,” the Adviser chuckled, giving the broader mans sides a few more teasing squeezes and listening to Gladio’s laughter increase.  “You’re still ticklish?”

“Stahp!  Stahahap it!  I-I am n-now…. lehet gohoho!” Gladio begged, soon finding a reprieve to his sides as Ignis stopped his unintentional attack.  Gladio tried to catch his breath and wondered if he prayed to the Astrals if they would let the old carpeting swallow him whole?

“That is absolutely endearing, Gladio, but I do apologize,” Ignis chuckled, not sounding apologetic in the least!  The asshole.

“Yeah, yeah… well anymore ideas?” Gladio mumbled, trying to move past his silly display when he heard the sound of their younger counterparts getting closer.  “Fantastic.”

“Oh shush, they may be just the help we need.  Prompto!  Noctis!  May I borrow your assistance for a moment?” Ignis called, resting his elbow on the small of Gladio’s back.

“Sure!  What’s up, Igster?” Prompto asked as he bounded into the caravan.  “Need help with din- what the hell?”

“What?  Is he making that stinky tofu aga-........ What the hell?” Noct practically mimicked Prompto.

Ignis chuckled and Gladio wondered how much more his dignity could take.

“Our dear Shield here has managed to get himself stuck cleaning up after yourselves,” Ignis said lightly.

“Actually I was cleaning up after all thre-AGH!  I’m sorry!  I’m sorryhehee!” he cackled as he recieved a well placed jab to his side, making him topple to the floor in a heap.

“Now… where was I?” Ignis mused before standing up and moving away from the Shield.

“Prompto, would you be so kind as to grab the butter from the grocery bags outside?  And Noctis, there is a crowbar in the trunk of the Regalia.  If you two could bring me those items I think all three of us may be able to free him.”

“You got it, Iggy!  I just have to do one thing,” Prompto answered and before long Gladio could hear the sound of a shutter clicking as Prompto’s camera made its debut.

“Oh!  That’s a good one!  Smile for the camera, Gladio!” Prompto teased as he took a few more picks, Gladio managing to reach his hand out from underneath the table to flip him off.

“Come on, Prom.  If you keep that up he’ll have you doing extra training for the foreseeable future,” Noctis chuckled, though Gladio could hear the glee in his voice.  This was something he wouldn’t be living down too soon.

In the end it took two sticks of butter, the use of the crowbar and Prompto and Noctis pulling on Gladio’s trousers to finally free the man.

Many lessons were learned that day.  

The first, that those stuck under tables shouldn’t talk shit or their friends would get their comeuppance.

The second, that caravan’s were not meant for normal sized people and were probably made for toddlers and fae folk... the only people small enough to move around freely within the confines of its walls.

And lastly, that the power of friendship, butter and crowbars could solve any problem.

“Dude, you smell like a tub of popcorn,” Prompto teased as they drove off toward their next destination.  The owner of the caravan not entirely thrilled that the table had been wrenched from the wall to free a titan of a man.

“Keep it up, Chuckles,” Gladio warned, earning himself another snicker from the gunner who turned around in his seat.

Noctis smiled beside him, making Gladio huff a bit, arms folded over his chest as he tried his best to pout.

“Come now, Gladiolus.  It’s not everyday they see a Shield of Lucis wedged under a table,” Ignis teased, his sparkling as he glanced at the man in the rearview mirror.

Gladio narrowed his eyes at that and opened his mouth.

“Did I ever tell you two the time I caught Ignis horking down a pack of gummy bears and a baggy of cheese puffs down at the vending machines by his office?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow as two pairs of eyes looked at him with wonder.  

The third pair of eyes marking him for murder.

“Gladiolus… don’t you dare…,”

“It was about two years ago…,”

“Gladiolus!”

[heylookafanfic]

Pairing: Joyce x Mall Gang x Byers! Reader

brief summary: You and the gang are fighting the Mindflayer in the mall but things take a unexpected turn for the worst.

word count: 1.7k words requested: Nope, original! (send in those requests!) warnings: death, finding out a loved one is hurt, mentions of blood, injury, cursing, losing consciousness

You, Mike and Max had stayed behind at the mall to take care of El after an impromptu open leg surgery to get the mini-flayer out. Joyce and Hop were off to turn off the portal to the UpsideDown. Dustin and Erica went to contact Suzy. Lucas, Will, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and Robbin were out, driving the MindFlayer as far as possible from town. That is, until it made a u-turn and head back to the mall.

The three of you were walking out to the parking lot, supporting El in-between Max and Mike.

“What the hell does this thing even look like?” you asked Mike

“It looks like a spider but a million times bigger” he responded

“It’s bigger than the one at the hospital?!” Max asked

“Yeah” Mike said

El let out a groan

“We’re almost there El. I promise we-”

Suddenly, Billy emerged from his burning car and spotted you.

“Shit, go, go, go, go!!” Mike panicked

You all ran back into the mall, trying to find a safe place to hide.

“I’ll hold him off” Max said

“No! I’ll do it!” you said

“What?! No! Nobody’s leaving!” said Mike

“Don’t fight me on this. Max, stay with them and keep going!” you said

They pause and give you a concerned look

“GO!” you shouted

Just as they got out of view, Billy burst in. He was eyeing you down yet, you didn’t break eye contact. You were scared but you sure as hell wasn’t gonna let to show.

“Where are they?” he growled

“Go fuck yourself Hargrove” you spat

Grabbing you by your throat, he slammed you against the wall and your head hit first, making a loud thud as you fell. Luckily, it wasn’t enough to make you unconscious. Brushing yourself off, you ran and attempted to drop kick him. You might as well just kicked a pile of cinderblocks because that’s what it felt like. Billy wasn’t phased by it and kept walking toward the kids. You ran out the back door and into the parking lot.

“Y/N!” a voice yelled

You turned around to find Lucas, Will, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve and Robbin. They caught up with you, arms full of fireworks and jogged into the entrance of the mall.

“What happened to your plan?” you asked

“Mr. Mindflayer decided he wanted to come back” Lucas said

“What do we do now?”

“We got a plan but it may or may not work”

“Okay? What is it?” you ask

“How far can you throw?”

Suddenly, Max and Mike shot out of Scoops Ahoy in a panic.

“Hey! Up here!” Max shouted

Everyone ran up the flight of stairs, meeting the two.

“Where’s El?” Jonathan asked

“Billy took her!”

“What?! I thought you were with her the whole time!” said Steve

“We were but he nearly killed us for her” said Mike

The ground began to shake. Will looked up at the glass ceiling of the food court.

“GO! GO! GO! GO!” Jonathan yelled

Armed with fireworks, the gang took position on the top level of the mall, hiding behind trash cans, store signs, and plastic plants for cover. The MindFlayer is here and boy is this going to be one hell of a story to tell after it’s dead and gone. The monster that overtook lil ‘ol Hawkins, Indiana was live and in the flesh. Hearing it’s ear shattering wails, you take a deep breath in. Steve looked at you from his hiding spot.

“You okay Y/N?” he mouthed

You were still a bit disoriented from hitting your head but, you didn’t want to sit this one out. You exhaled and nodded.

He gave you a thumbs up and waited for the cue.

El was inches away from being MindFlayer food and tensions were high.

Steve counted.

One.

Tw-

“FLEE THIS, YOU UGLY PIECE OF SHIT!” Lucas yells as he chucks a lit firework at the monster

It explodes and knocks the MindFlayer off balance and into a support beam.

Everybody beings throwing their fireworks one by one. From firecrackers to Black Cats, the monster takes a bit of damage but, not enough to kill it. This was your first encounter with the mindflayer but, if it meant saving the world from complete destruction, you might as well give it all you got. You have a limited arsenal of explosives and so does the rest of the gang but it seemed like this battle went on for an hour. Nothing seemed to work and soon enough, everyone was yelling “I’M OUT!!”. You and Robbin  were the only two that still had a few left and suddenly, an idea came to mind. If you could get one into its mouth, that’d probably kill it. Not the brightest idea but it was worth trying. You sprint over to her and take the largest firework, leaving the rest of your ammo.

“What are you doing?” she shouted over the noise

You ignored her and dashed towards a spot behind the Flayer on the first floor. If you could get close enough to it, it’ll turn around, you could take your shot and get the hell out of there before Flayer guts could get on you.

“I’M OUT!” Robbin yells

That’s your cue.

You whistle and it’s loud enough to get it’s attention. It turns around and roars as you throw the last explosive. It lands in it’s mouth and detonates. There’s a eery silence. Is it over? Did you deliver the final blow that saved the world?

No.

The Flayer flings one of its legs at you, sending you flying into the counter of one of the restaurants.

You’re out cold. All you remember is seeing its leg and everything turned to black. It’s all over isn’t it? Well, at least you died a hero. Are you a hero? Oh no, mom. Mom almost lost Will but now you? This wasn’t how it’s supposed to end. Mom, Will, and Jonathan are going to live their lives without you forever and all because of a goddamn alien thing? Shit, shit, shit.

After your mom closed the portal to the UpsideDown thus, killing the MindFlayer, everyone ran downstairs and rushed to El and you. El was had bumps and bruises but wanted them to tend to you. Max grieved over Billy’s body and El held her tight as she sobbed.

Your brothers, Steve, Robbin, Nancy and Mike pulled your body from the rubble and Will yelled for you. Nancy held him back from seeing the aftermath.

“Y/N?! Oh my God! Wake up! Come on!” Johnathan shouted

“Joyce?! Hop?! Dustin? Anyone, come in!!” Mike shouted over the walkie talkie.

“This is Joyce, is everyone okay?” your mom replied

“Miss. Byers, we need you ASAP! Y/N’s down and it’s bad!”

“Wait, wait wait. Who’s down?!” Joyce panicked

Jonathan took the walkie talkie form Mike

“Y/N!! Y/N’s DOWN! MOM HURRY!” ——–

Feeling hands grab your shoulders, you thought that an angel was probably pulling you up to heaven. Well, it’s been nice Earth.

“Y/N?!”

You couldn’t see anything but you most definitely heard a voice yelling your name

“Y/N?!”

There it goes again. What the-.

“They’re not waking up!” another voice said

Out of nowhere, you heard a comforting voice

“Y/N? It’s mommy. Oh no, baby, please come back to mommy. Please”

Mom! You can hear her but you can’t see her. You can feel a heaviness on your chest. Ow! Hey! Now, it really hurts.

You open your eyes just enough to see light. You can see big blobs but you can’t make them out.

“Hey! There they are!” Robbin said

She had been doing CPR on you for the past 3 minutes

You tried to sit up but a hand gently pushed you back

“No, no, no. Don’t move” Jonathan said

A groan escaped from your mouth. You feel something rub across your hand repeatedly. With the eye that wasn’t swollen shut, you looked at you hand and saw your mom. She was crying tears of relief and rubbed her thumb across the back of your hand.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” she asked

You could hear her alright. Everything was awfully loud and sounded like a plastic bag was over your head.

You just squeezed her hand with what little strength you had in you. She smiled and kissed your forehead.

“Mom, they’re losing a lot of blood” Jonathan worried

You looked down at your stomach and blacked out again from the sight of the deep gash. — Waking up to the clean smell of an ambulance was nice. What wasn’t nice is being hooked up to tubes and wires.

You opened your eyes again and saw Joyce and 2 paramedics staring at you.

“Mom?” you said reaching for her

“Don’t move sweetheart. We’re almost to the hospital” she said

Someone was missing. Hop. Hop was missing. He’s been like a father to you since your dad left. He was always there for you and you can’t imagine him not being by your side in a situation like this.

“Mom, where’s Hopper?” you said in a hoarse voice

Joyce took a shaky breath

“I’m so sorry”

“Huh? No! Where is he?!” you cried

“He didn’t make it baby” she said

It took you a while to process the news. It wasn’t enough time because by the time you were rushed through the ER doors, the nurses put you under again for surgery.

—-

You woke up for the 3rd time and everyone was in your post-op room.

“Hey hero!” your big brother said

Everyone said their greetings to you.

“Hey badass! I heard what happened” said Dustin

“I heard you kicked the MindFlayers ass right before you got sucker punched by it” said Erica

“Erica!” Lucas reprimanded his sister

Things got quiet when Will came to your side.

“Don’t leave us again, please”

With Will being the baby of the family, you always made promises to him. Pinky promises started back when he was 5 and ever since, it stuck.

“I pinky promise” you said

Your voice was still hoarse but at least you can talk in full sentences. You saw El in the corner of the room.

“El” you said

She came to your side

“Is it true?” you asked

She gave you the saddest eyes.

“yes” she nodded

You sighed. The room got quiet when Joyce walked in.

“We’ll give you two a minute” Nancy said ushering everyone out

As soon as everyone left, Joyce kissed your forehead and you cried. She held your hand and cried with you. Things would never be the same in Hawkins. Especially without Hop.

[fmdtaeyongarchive]

↬ killing me softly.

date: march 2020 - september 2020.

location: ash’s apartment studio.

word count: 2,018 words, excluding lyrics.

summary: ash: i am so sad, i am so lonely, i want someone to love me, my mental health is terrible. there, that’s the whole solo. no need to read it.

triggers: mentions of nightmares, death, and alcohol. blink and you’ll miss it suicidal ideation.

notes: creative claims verification.

march 2020.

the escaping memories of a nightmare shake ash awake in the middle of the night and by the time he’s regained his senses, he’s sitting up ramrod straight in his bed, the darkness of his room closing in around him like death.

the remnants of the dream are thin and wispy, like the thinnest clouds covering the moon and he grasps at what remains, only to come up with a few images that don’t connect to each other. 

a dark street, cold metal.

time twisting in on itself and breaking down. the meeting of eyes and the flashing omen of years of torment.

his body crumpled on the hard black ground. the looming sense of death he’d had the chance to outrun and had only asked to come to him faster.

his heart cracking like a shattered television screen and his mind going white for the rest of time like some undiscovered stage of intoxication.

screaming.

howling.

back to the beginning and through the flames of hell all over again.

he nearly topples off the edge of his bed reaching for the light on his nightstand and only when its light shines its halo does his heart begin to calm its beating.

before it can ease completely, ash takes a pen out of his drawer, forgoing the paper he also keeps there to write two lines on the skin of the inside of his right arm in a sleepy scrawl:

i’d be howling for you before the shadows drag me under.

nightmares come to haunt him nearly every time he closes his eyes for days after that and the feeling he awakes with is always eerily similar.

it’s the fear of falling and the pain of every bone in his body shattering on impact upon hitting the ground.

he’d heard once on the playground in elementary school that you can’t die in your dreams. it’s a defense mechanism by your brain, they’d claimed with all the haughtiness of a know-it-all fifth grader.

ash knows now they’d been wrong. his mind is only at its most destructive when left unattended.

august 2020.

the nightmare only comes once a month or so now and it’s not something he’d have thought to raise in therapy if there hadn’t been a particularly bad episode where his manager had nearly been driven to swerving off the road by ash gasping awake in the back of the van on a way to a schedule.

she suggests writing down what plagues his mind at night when he can’t sleep, so he records a stream of consciousness that very night.

          - did i lock the door?

          - i hope those girls waiting outside of the building today didn’t find a way to get in.

          - this apartment is too big.

          - i’m lonely.

          - should i call

          - why am i doing this?

he stops.

early september 2020.

he’s so tired. it’s a shot to his ego to admit, but he’s on the verge of tears when the nightmare wakes him again and he’s not sure if it’s because of how much it had rattled him or because he’s been damned to another sleepless night.

ten minutes later, he’s in his kitchen with a glass of water in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through his contacts.

he passes by his mom’s number, his dad, hyoyeon’s, miyeon’s, jaewon’s.

he stops at youngjoo’s.

she can’t give him what he needs either, but, god, is he good at shaping her into the illusion of what he wants.

is he, though?

if he is, then why does he feel so lonely all of the time? why does his apartment feel too big and the emptiness inside of his body only grow, despite the fighting to put out the music he wants and taking the leap to go to therapy again and the success he’s seen in his professional life this year?

he’s so tired of searching for coping mechanisms in those who never asked to be used. should he call her and tell her that instead? or would he wake her? interrupt her night with someone who means more to her than he does? would she care at all if he said he can’t do this anymore?

this.

pretending sex means something it can’t? bringing her back between his sheets like a drug he’s sickly accepted his reliance on?

fighting for meaning in a life he can’t shake the feeling doesn’t have much to it at all?

the pain of his teeth presses into his lip and he keeps scrolling to the very end of his contacts where only one character identifies a number he should have deleted a year ago.

if he called, would he take him back? if ash begged and pleaded and apologized and swore he wanted to run away tonight and spend the rest of their lives together and never look back, would he take him back?

if he did, would the emptiness inside of ash finally go away?

it wouldn’t.

ash doesn’t love him anymore. he can’t see forever with him and that’s how he’d gotten here in the first place.

but it’d once been something real, something good, something that made him feel like he had purpose and a chance at happiness and that light in the distant gets fainter and fainter by the day now and he’s trying so damn hard to be better to the world and to himself and to feed that light so he can become one himself, but nights like this, it all feels so useless.

yeah, it's true, true, i'm stuck in the loop losing control, i can't get over in the void, i can't be sober

he switches his glass of water out for drinking vodka straight out of the bottle.

early september 2020.

the song doesn’t get out of his head, even as he tries to beat it back and in a few weeks, he has a rough draft of a track he hadn’t planned on making.

it’s a weird song for him.

it’s not that he’s questioning whether the chord progression is too cliche or if the samples he’s used sound amateur. it’s the entire song, its musical lean and the lyrics that lean more conceptual than he’s used to, that he’s doubting now. they’re open to interpretation, more of a poem than a story, and it reflects the nightmares he’s been having, but he can’t imagine showing the song to himself three years ago and having any idea it was a song he’d written.

he listens nervously to the same track on repeat over and over again, finding small details to change as an excuse to avoid thinking too much about if he’ll have to scrap the song altogether, or worse, send it out and risk the rejection that could come. he’s been rejected time and time again before, but there are only two fates he can see this song meeting: a release in the exact form he sees it having or being resigned to the depths of his computer files forever, never heard by anyone but him. 

it’s different from what he normally does, but not different enough at the same time and that’s what makes him so nervous. he thinks he likes the work he’s done, musically at least, but it’s more experimental than what he’s done before. he hasn’t even had anyone else’s help on crafting the track that he can pass off responsibility to if it’s dubbed entirely amateur, and he doesn’t want to give into the help of anyone else either. this isn’t a song anyone else can touch. it’s his and his alone, and that’s an inflexible fact as set as the rotation of earth or the existence of gravity.

the questions run around in his head as the hi-hats and the dark instrumental rolls into his mind through the dull black headset over his ears while the screen slowly traces farther and farther right on the visual representation of his composition. he’s muted the vocal track so he doesn’t have to pay as much attention to his own voice crooning back at him with a delivery and lyrics he can’t let himself get caught up in if he ever wants to song to have a finished state, and he’s pleased with the instrumental alone.

it’s a little like something he’d create in order to sell it off to someone else who has a more experimental sound, and for a while, he considers the option of never bringing it forth as a possibility for himself. he can try to pass it off to someone else who’s more secure in displaying themselves as a part of this song than ash feels at the moment. no matter how he turns it over in his head, though, for some reason, he can’t bear to do that. this isn’t a song he wants to strip of its personality and give away.

it’s a great piece, honestly. he’s proud of all of the layers to it and how it includes new elements he doesn’t have much experience working with. on the surface, it’s far from the limited acoustic composition and production he’d been so attached to when he’d put out his first album. this is something that he would have never even considered back then, when he was twenty-one and desperate and the music he was releasing was a mirror of twenty-one year-old ash. ash is three years older now—years that have shaped him into a person more in tune with the sound he has in front of him: something a little more unique and a lot darker, jaded and pained and raw. it feels exactly like what he wants to make even beyond the surface changes. it strikes him that even if he stripped the entire instrumental back to a guitar and his voice like he’d been so fond of two years ago, it’d still sound like the ash of today and not the ash of years past, years that feel like whole lifetimes to him—and, in a way, this feels just like twenty-four year old ash. in all the worst ways, perhaps, but twenty-four year old ash nonetheless.

as he considers that idea, a few of the butterflies in his stomach flutter away and leave him with a slightly more peaceful feeling under his skin. he can’t try to shove himself into the safe bubble twenty-one year-old ash had crafted around himself for protection, a thin plastic veneer of false innocence and abject victimhood, doe-eyed, romantic, and lovestruck. ash can still be doe-eyed. he can still be romantic and maybe, with time, he’ll be able to fall back into the vulnerability of being lovestricken, but those don’t need to be the only characteristics with which he defines himself.

if he feels hopeless and broken and dirty, what’s so wrong with putting that into a song? why does it need to be sugar-coated and rose-colored and always, always relatable to everyone and not just himself?

the track loops around.

ash stops it halfway through to unmute the vocal lines of the song and listen to the full track this time, deciding he can’t tear the instrumental alone apart anymore. 

listening back, ash finds himself over-analyzing how well-constructed it is in the eyes of critics. should he soften it? harden it? completely rewrite every word? his own exhale of resignation is blocked out by the dark headset over his ears, but with it comes a contrasting feeling of decisiveness in his chest.

he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. it could very well be too dramatic, too self-indulgent, too ‘sadboi trap’. for so long, he’s let himself get caught up in the question of what others want from his writing. always, it’s about who he’s writing for. for someone he wants to woo with pretty words of infatuation or executives he wants to please or other producers he wants to impress.

this one is therapy.

this one is for him.

late september 2020.

“are you still having nightmares?”

his therapist asks the question as if she’s wondering what he’d had for dinner last night.

“it’s been a month now. i’m not sure if they’ve decided not to come back or if i never let them leave in the first place.”