#and using my bike bell ten times and still having to come to a halt because people refuse to take two steps to the side

[sofusgirl]

As someone who does not have a drivers license, and bikes pretty much everywhere (until it gets to icy to do so)...

I am so aware how many motorists hate me on the road. Like, I usually stick to sidewalks where possible, but occasionally there is no option but to follow the road, and I never feel less safe than I do when cars pass me there. Some get spiteful and pass uncomfortably close. Despite me being as close to the edge of the road as I can. Trust me, I'd rather not be here either, but ther is no sidewalk here, and no other way to get where I'm going.

Luckily, most places I bike have sidewalks for me to stick to.

That being said, it is not completely without reason that people are negative to bikers. I see so many bikers being reckless, inconsiderate idiots in traffic. Putting themselves and others in danger.

Likewise I see cars not paying attention, not stopping to let me cross the road, despite me having dismounted my bike and signaling that I want to cross, or in one case, being on his phone while leaving a parking lot where he did not have the right of way, probably intending to pull up to the main road fully before looking up. I got across just close enough to give him a scare, without endangering myself, because he was just not paying attention at all to the sidewalk, despite it being so easy to see both left and right of him.

Pedestrians too though. Crossing roads without checking that it's clear/that incoming traffic has seen you (you could be in their blindspot, wait until you know they see you), standing/walking in groups taking up the entire sidewalk without paying attention to their surroundings, walking smack dab in the middle so that no one can pass on either side etc.

Overall, the mode of transport matters less than the "pay attention and show some consideration to your surroundings"

If you're walking in a group, make sure you keep an eye out so you can let others pass when necessary. When biking, be mindful of pedestrians and the rules of traffic. When driving pay attention and don't be a dick to people who aren't inside a ton of metal.

Everyone can have an off day, or be distracted, but cmon, just a little decency.

[writeyouin]

Jesse McCree X Reader – The Gunslinger - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Revenge

A/N – I was going to write more but I’m tired now. I will eventually write a part three, so until then, I hope you enjoy this.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Jesse downed another half bottle of cheap whiskey, in an attempt to forget. He wanted to forget the sorry excuse for a squat his last bounty had bought him. He wanted to forget his past as a member of the Deadlock Gang. He wanted to forget the way Overwatch had failed. He wanted to forget you.

It had been six months since he had last gone back to the Gunslinger, your run-down dive bar that felt more like home to him than anywhere else in the entire world. He would never forget the way he had failed you. If he told you his thoughts, you would undoubtedly try to comfort him by reminding him that he had saved your life, but he knew that he had failed you.

If he had been more careful with his aim when that prick had held a knife to your throat, then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt at all. He remembered all too vividly the scarlet blood that had ran from your neck down to your arm. Hating the memory that assaulted his brain, Jesse gripped his bottle tighter and downed what was left; any thoughts would be wiped away soon enough.

The door to the Gunslinger creaked open and you looked up hopefully, but it wasn’t Jesse. It was just another wanderer, stopping by your bar on the way to bigger and better things. After serving him, you went back to wondering about Jesse. It wasn’t surprising to see him gone so long, but this time you really felt like he might not come back.

The idea of never seeing him again hurt more than falling into a dozen cacti, and yet you knew that you shouldn’t be so disappointed; Jesse had never been yours to begin with. So, you waited through yet another day, hoping that the pain would soon fade.

The next day, much the same as the one prior was uneventful, at least until the sun dipped low on the horizon, signalling that it was almost closing time. Had there been anyone in, you would have rung a bell on the counter, calling for the last orders. As it was, you simply continued reading your book, a biography of Tekhartha Mondatta, the deceased omnic who founded the Shambali back before everything had turned to shit.

While you read, you debated closing the bar ten minutes early, knowing full well that if somebody should enter now, you wouldn’t have time to serve them more than a quick brew. It was only habit that stopped you from doing so; you hadn’t closed up early in the six years you had owned the bar, and you weren’t about to start now.

With only five minutes left to closing time, you began your night time ritual, cleaning the place so it was at least the most presentable dive bar in Santa Fe. Ducked beneath the counter, searching for the soapy rag you had just dropped, you heard the doors swing open.

“Bar’s closing,” You called.

“Is that so?” A somewhat familiar voice griped.

“Yeah, you’ll have to find somewhere else to-” You fell silent upon seeing Ulrick, the man who had attacked you six months earlier, scarring your neck where his knife had grazed you.

Subconsciously, you reached for the scar, reliving the fear you had felt then, though you proudly didn’t let it show.

“OUT,” You barked harshly. “GET OUT, NOW!”

“Is that any way to treat a guest?” Ulrick grinned sickly. “How’s about a little respect? Maybe a drink in my hand, yeah?”

Behind the bar, you fumbled to find your pistol. Mostly you used it to scare off the occasional rowdy drunk; now you wanted it for protection. Whipping it out, you glared at Ulrick.

“Get out,” You growled vehemently.

“You ain’t in any position to tell me what to do, bitch,” Ulrick spat, completely unfazed.

He limped closer to the bar, still injured from where McCree had shot him in the knee.

Unafraid to shoot, you cocked back the hammer on the old-fashioned gun. There was a moment of silence wherein only the leaky faucet in the back of the bar could be heard. Ulrick sized you up, and you stared him down, wishing you weren’t so far away from any decent law enforcement.

Finally, Ulrick smiled, adding further to your tension. He had no weapon, nor could he make his way over to you in time on his busted leg, and yet still he smiled the way children do when thinking that annoying refrain, ‘I know something you don’t know.’

He whistled, signalling for four other men to come in, all with shotguns aimed directly at you. “This is the one, lads. The lass that fucks the outlaw, or maybe she’s an omnic fucker. Maybe it’s both, she seems the type, right?”

Nobody replied to Ulrick’s speech, instead watching you intensely, their aim unwavering.

“What do you want from me?” You hissed.

“Me? You ain’t got nothing I want, bitch.”

Before you could so much as scream, your pitiful gun was taken and you were hit in the side of the head with the butt of a shotgun, knocked out cold behind the bar with no hope of rescue.

“Tie ‘er up,” Ulrick ordered. “I don’t want ‘er escapin’ when we torch this place to the ground.”

“Where’s our bounty?” One of the gang members growled irritably, having been told that Jesse McCree would be there.

“Obviously not here,” Ulrick shouted back. “I said he might not be. Settle for the pay I’ll give you for offing this bitch.”

Knowing full well that it was almost impossible to find McCree at any given time, the gang settled for the meagre price Ulrick had put on your head. If they had McCree, they could have earned a hundred times what he was paying them for you, but money was money and at least you were there.

McCree drove through the desert on an old chopper he had stolen from a low-down crook. He had been driving the entire night, almost swerving off the road more than once in his drunken state, the hangover from his binge drinking looming over him.

By this point he had expected that he would have blacked out in the small squat where he had been staying, but evidently, he wasn’t so lucky. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get you off his mind. If he couldn’t run from you, he would have to confront you instead and make you see that he was a no-good varmint that would never do anything good for you or that damned bar.

McCree wasn’t really sure what point he was going to make when he saw you, but he expected that you would disagree with his lowly opinion of himself and then there would be a lot of arguing back and forth.

Finally, McCree made it to the long stretch of road where the Gunslinger stood. For a moment he skidded the bike to a halt, squinting his eyes shut, sure that the plumes of smoke rising into the sky pushed up by orange flames were nothing but a hallucination; he was hungover, overly tired, and it wasn’t even the dry season for fires.

When he opened his eyes again and the fire persisted in the distance, McCree swore and kicked the bike’s throttle on, zooming down the final stretch faster than he should have in his state.

He was less than a mile away when the heat from the flames hit him, drying out his already cracked skin. He threw the bike down and immediately ran inside what was left of the old bar. Covering his mouth with his poncho to protect from the smoke, McCree’s Overwatch training kicked in, immediately sobering him up as he searched the bar for signs of life.

He prayed that you weren’t there, hating to think about the damage that would have been done to you if you had been there for long. Alas, he wasn’t so lucky, finding you tied up and unconscious behind the bar, your face bruised and bleeding from one blunt object or another.

McCree was filled with rage upon seeing the injury; it was no accident that you got that, nor was the fire that consumed the only home McCree had ever known.

“(Y/N)!” Jesse gruffly called your name, whilst cutting the rope that bound you.

He picked you up in and hoisting you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He kept on repeating your name, hoping that it might rouse you somewhat, but it was useless, like talking to a corpse.

At the macabre thought, McCree hurried, abandoning his bike for the beat up old chevy you kept around the back. Thankfully, the fire hadn’t damaged the car, past a few scorch marks that blackened the already damaged paint.

Laying you down on the back seat and belting you in, McCree got in the front and hotwired the car. The radio sprang to life with Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire, further stoking McCree’s temper on his way to the hospital.

Once at the hospital, McCree regrettably had to abandon you at the doors on a gurney for the doctors to find. By now, several cameras on the way through the small town and in the hospital would have gotten sight of the outlaw.

He would have to be fast if he wished to avoid the hands of the law as well as half a dozen bounty hunters. Besides, McCree also had a personal mission to track down whoever it was that had hurt you and destroyed your bar; every person involved was going to get a bullet right between the eyes for hurting his bartender.

If McCree stopped to think about it, he would have considered his feelings for you, but he knew if he did then he would be in danger of going somewhere he couldn’t return from.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, McCree scowled, awaiting the moment that he would see you again; he didn’t want to come back to you, but he knew he would have to see that you were alright before he could leave once again. What had started as a trip to get you out of his system had quickly become McCree’s mission to avenge you.

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[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!seonghwa (part 16)

word count: 4k

fluff

(part 15) (series masterlist)

it wasn't even noon yet and the day has already left you defeated. because everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong today. after staying up until the wee hours of the morning finishing assignments and studying for tests, you had forgotten to set your alarm and woke up ten minutes before the first bell.

strike one, your first tardiness. two more and you'll get a weeks worth of detention.

you jumped out of bed and started to full on scramble, tripping over luna in the process as you ran around your room, toothbrush in mouth as you fumbled through your closet for a uniform. you flew down the stairs, nearly tumbling down the last three as you run out the door and forgetting your packed lunch in the fridge.

strike two, you get to starve at lunch.

and you could've sworn strike three and four was just for the amusement of some higher being watching, bored beyond belief and laughing at the way you nearly flip over your handle bars as your front tire blows out.

"no, no, no, you've gotta be kidding me!" you seethe in anger, jumping off your bike to assess the torn tire. and you can try to take deep breaths, in and out, in and out, until you've calmed down and used proper relaxation techniques; but you much prefer the method of letting out a giant curse and kicking the bike frame repeatedly before begrudgingly walking it to school.

and then, like the expense of a new tire and more lateness wasn't enough, you tripped up the stairs running into the main doors and promptly sliced your knee open.

so you'll have to be forgiven for the annoyed scowl on your face, sitting with a clenched jaw and bouncing leg as you relive your nightmare of a morning. because you try not to dwell on negative things, those little inconveniences that always potentially have the power to ruin your day. but it's just the matter in which it happened, one after another so chaotically causing your head to pound and your need to just crawl in bed and escape the politics of this stupid rich school.

because even though it's incredibly obvious you're having a bad day, these ruthless students don't care. you walk into 4th period, head down and hair covering your face until you see two feet under the desk you were about to plop in. you pick your head up to the see the girl who gave you shit on the first day looking at you with a cocked head and smirk.

"hello, new girl," she hums sarcastically and you resist the urge to scream at her.

"you're in my seat," you tell her quietly, matter-of-factly, just wanting for a second to get some peace today.

"oh, am i?"

you roll your eyes at her tone, nodding your head sarcastically and she squints her eyes menacingly. "you're getting awful bold now, aren't you? i heard about the shit you pulled at the ski trip, you know."

you can only raise your eyebrow, turning your head questioningly. and that's when she gets up and looms over you, staring down with a dark look in her eye.

"playing cinderella with seonghwa, are you? the poor girl and the prince," she says, tapping the horrendous shoes that of course she hasn't forgotten, "still have these...things, i see. and you still go and throw yourself at him? shameless."

you can only find it in yourself to sigh, looking at her with a blank expression. you're just on empty today, no energy in you to fight or defend yourself.

"got nothing to say?" she quips, poking your shoulder lightly and causing you to tip back. you huff before attempting to inch your body around her but she only bumps you with her hip so you stumble back into place.

"i wasn't done with you."  

"well, i'm done," you say quietly, "i've had a realllly bad morning so if you could just leave me alone please."

the sarcastic laugh that blows in your face causes your fists to clench, frustrated tears starting to build behind your eyes because you just wanna put your head down and close your eyes and pretend you're anywhere but here.

"aw, i'm so sorry to hear that," her sharp whiney voice spits sarcastically, "but you've made my mornings pretty bad ever since you got here. stealing my seat and seonghwa's attention and subjecting me to look at such poverty."

and even with the frustrated tears stinging behind your eyes, you can't help but laugh at the last part of her statement. laugh at how old this shit is getting and how she really thinks you'll get upset by that.

"did i say something funny?" she asks, turning her head to the side challengingly and you think she's gonna try to rip your hair out.

"no," you say, pressing your lips into a tight line, "i just really want you to leave me alone so i can sit down and-"

"well i really want you to stop being here!" she screeches and your body juts back at the sheer sound and acidity in her tone. "i don't think you realize just how much everyone here fucking hates you." she's advancing toward you to intently, dark, crazy eyes boring into yours as you walk backwards. "how much we're embarrassed to see you here and that you're associated with us."

"well i don't wanna be here either," you bite back, finally, halting your feet so you hold your ground. "i hate that i have to deal with people like you here, who don't even know me and yet give me shit constantly for the stupidest thing. if i bother you that much, why can't you just leave me alone?" you ask, voice cracking as your resolve breaks.

because you don't wanna deal with this ever but especially today. your dejected spirit and pounding headache and throbbing knee just can't handle it.

"just pretend i'm not here and ignore me," you beg and you don't even realize the room is silent, hearing your pathetic pleas and wobbling voice. "ignore who i talk to and ignore my $10 shoes that apparently bother you so much and just fucking leave me alone."

she smirks when she hears the wobble in your voice, "aw, new girl, are you gonna-" but because her sharp, malevolent eyes have been boring into yours the whole time, she doesn't realize seonghwa in the doorway (who was trying but failed to take yeosang's advice) nor does she notice him walking up the aisle until you step back and bump into his chest.

his gaze meets yours when you turn around, eyes watering when you see his are full of concern and anger; you don't know what it is about him that makes you so weak and vulnerable in an instant. maybe it's because you know he'll take care of you in a second, without hesitation.

"what's going on, y/n?" he asks softly, placing his hand on your hip and guiding you around his body so he's standing in between you both.

"i...i just want-" you pause when you swallow down the frustrated sob, or scream, you don't really know at this point, and bite the inside of your cheek.

"what?" he asks lowly, moving in closer to you and rubbing his thumb soothingly against your hip. "tell me."

"i just want her to leave me alone," you squeak out, eyes meeting the floor so you miss the way his demeanor turns cold. how his eyes harden and jaw tenses before he turns to the red-faced bully.

"hi seong-"

"i'm not gonna tell you again," he spits darkly, taking a step closer to her, "she asked you to leave her alone so i suggest you leave her the fuck alone."

the girl's trapped against the wall now, because the whole time he was talking he was taking steps closer. and now seonghwa's looking down at her and shaking his head, "and if you don't, you're stupider than i thought."

"why do you always-"

"i don't remember saying you can ask me a question," he snaps, "so why are you talking?"

you watch as she gulps and you almost feel bad for her, because he really does sound scary.

"i-i"

"leave her alone and go sit down. now."

and just like anyone would, she immediately listens to his command until his voice speaks again when her body passes you.

"apologize to her."

you snap your head to look back at seonghwa, watery wide eyes staring at him as you shake your head. but he only stares at you challengingly and nods his head towards her. you turn around to see the girl looking at you in fear and it's such a contrast to how high and mighty she looked a minute ago.

"i'm sorry," she spits at you, the humbled look in her eye doing nothing for her bitchy tone. you answer by simply turning your back to her, making your way to your seat and finally plopping down. but seonghwa's still standing, looming over your desk and his gaze lands on your red, scrapped up knee; his body immediately tenses.

"did she do that?"

your head snaps up immediately at the rage in his deep voice.

"no," you squeak out, shaking your head side to side quickly. "i fell this morning. one of the many unfortunate series of events."

he squints his eyes at you, pursing his lips before holding his hand out.

"come with me."

your eyes travel from his outreached hand to his face, handsome as always but void of expression.

"where?"

his lips quirk into the smallest of smiles.

"just come," he says lowly, "please." and just like that, you grab his hand and he leads you out of the silent room.

you know the second you're both in the hallway that the excited chatter starts up again, hearing the loud booms of "oooh" and high-pitched shrills echo throughout the classroom.

but you can only pay attention to seonghwa leading you down the hall, tightening his grip on your hand as his intertwines your fingers.

"where are we going?" you ask him as he continues to wordlessly drag you.

"the nurse," he says, "you didn't clean that, did you?"

"i didn't have the time," you mumble lowly and he only shakes his head at you, a scolding look on his face.

when you get to the office, the nurse leads you both to one of the rooms stocked with band-aids and first-aid kits, a white twin bed shoved into the corner that seonghwa guides you over to. he gestures for you to sit before walking across the room and fumbling in the shelves.

he's back over to you in seconds, band-aids, alcohol, and antiseptic cream in hand. he places them down, gently tugging your knee-high sock down and cringing when he sees your torn skin.

"this is bad, y/n, why didn't you come here?" he asks, looking up at you from his squatting position. you can only find it you to shrug, watching and hissing through your teeth when he swipes the pad over your skin.

"sorry," he says lowly, a slight pout on his face as he dabs at your leg. you watch him thoughtfully, the delicate way in which he cleans your wound wrenching your heart, soft, gentle swipes before he looks at you with a small smile.

"just this now," he mumbles, his fingertips grazing yours when he picks up the band-aid and places it on your knee. his touch is light and precise and it's making your chest hurt even more. not just because of the bad day you've been having but because of...everything. your conflicted mind and feelings of guilt and the way he's just so kind to you.

he throws out the excess packaging before taking a seat next to you, turning to face you as he silently looks you over.

"do you feel better now?" he asks, the slightest hint of teasing in his voice.

but again, you can only nod while a humorless chuckle leaves your mouth. "yeah... thank you seonghwa," and your voice is so small and quiet he feels a pang in his heart. because you sound...sad, almost detached.

"you don't seem better," he remarks gently, cautiously, like he doesn't wanna upset you further but also wants to see you happy again.

"just a bad morning," you squeak out, frustration swirling through you at the pounding in your head. "i..don't know why she wouldn't just leave me alone. i've had such a bad morning and i just wanted her to stop talking."

"she won't bother you again," he mumbles, bringing his arm up slowly to wrap around your shoulders. you let out a quiet, tired sigh, allowing yourself to lean into him despite your knotted stomach. because you shouldn't be accepting his comfort right now.

he smiles feeling your head rest on him, thumb moving across your skin slowly and you move your head further into him with a wince. "my head just hurts," you whine and without a word, he brings his hand up to your temple. you groan slightly when his thumbs starts to massage the side of your head, closing your eyes and basking in the slight relief he's giving you.

"nice," you mumble and his quiet chuckle surrounds the small room.

you both just sit there, eyes closed as your head rests on his shoulder while he rubs at your temple slowly; an occasional hum leaves his mouth when he hears a tiny murmur from you.

"why don't you lay down?" he mumbles after a few minutes, "i'll get your stuff from the room, yeah?"

"it's okay, i'll just go back with-" but when you stand, a painful pang jolts into the side of your head and his hands shoot out to steady you by your hips. he gently turns you so you're standing in between his legs and you're not used to the angle of looking down at him, head cocked to the side and brow raised as he watches you with soft eyes.

"please, y/n, just listen to me," he whines and the underlying command in his voice has you squinting your eyes at him. "why are you looking at me like that?"

your serious face quickly gets wiped away by a small giggle, shaking your head at him and it's like he knows he's in the clear now. he stands and watches you lay on the hard bed, fluffing up your pillow so it leans against the wall.

"seonghwa, if you start tucking me in, i'm gonna scream."

a guilty look crosses his face and you bite your lip to hide your smile. but he catches it anyway and it's enough to bring one to his face, happy to see the ghost of a happy expression on your face.

"there it is," he says cheekily, tapping the crease in the corner of your mouth causing you to scrunch your nose up at him in distaste.

"don't you ever get sick of taking care of me?" you ask him quietly, "it's gotta be getting annoying."

a tiny snort leaves him as he looks down at you, bending so he's at eye level with you. he runs his hand through your hair, tucking it behind your ear and causing you to swallow nervously.

"in case you haven't noticed, i throughly enjoy it. probably more than i should."

a tiny laugh bubbles out of your mouth as you shake your head at him; you will never understand how the hell this happened.

"and besides, if i didn't, who else would?" he quips with a small smile, tapping your nose lightly and you hope he doesn't notice your face pale.

'yeah, who else, y/n?' that snippy part of your mind thinks.

his eyebrows furry when he sees you shake your head, as if you're shaking thoughts from it, and you smile innocently up at him. "right," you awkwardly laugh out.

"i'll be back in a few, okay?"

you salute him sarcastically, watching him leave and you feel yourself let out an exhale you didn't even realize you were holding when he walks out the door.

"he probably wouldn't do this anyway," you mumble to yourself.

the second seonghwa walks out of the nurse's office, san nearly barrels into him. "oh shit, sorry br- oh! seonghwa!" he chirps happily before he notices where he's coming from. "are you sick?"

"y/n wasn't feeling good, a headache," he says and san's face immediately drops, a pout forming on his lips as he looks through the glass of the window for you. "she's laying down inside," he informs the boy until a thought crosses his mind.

"hey...do you wanna come with me somewhere real quick?"

san shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly before nodding his head. "sure, where we going?" he watches seonghwa fish in his pockets for his car key, throwing it to the boy who catches it with ease.

"pull my car around, i gotta get her stuff and then i'll meet you."

once the two boys disperse, seonghwa goes to the room and hushly explains to the teacher he's there to get your stuff before he's back in the hall and rushing  back down to the nurse. and when he opens the door to the room again, he feels his heart swell.

because within those five minutes, you had fallen asleep. hands under your cheek, with a peaceful soft look on your face. he smiles to himself, quietly walking over and placing your bag at the foot of the bed. he roams your slumbering face with a sickeningly soft expression, allowing himself to admire you looking so peaceful and content for a few moments.

and then before he turns to leave, he places a soft kiss on your forehead and lets his lips linger, mumbling a few hushed words against your skin.

"i don't know, guys, i was like half in-half out of sleep," you tell mingi and yunho two periods later. they had seen you come in with messy hair and pink cheeks and looked at each other suspiciously. "i was sleeping, you pervs," you grumbled at them, throwing mingi a dirty look when he makes a snide comment about you and yeosang between the bookshelves yesterday.

"okay, but you heard something, right?" yunho inquires, arms folded onto the table.

"you're like a 13-year-old gossip girl," mingi says sarcastically, bumping the large boy's arm who only throws him a dirty look.

"i don't know," you squeak out, "maybe friday? but what's friday? why friday?"

"i don't know," yunho says before they both look at mingi.

"what, i don't know," his deep voice quips, "maybe...he's gonna ask you on a date?"

"oh, my god, don't say that!" you squeal, throwing your hands over your face prompting mingi and yunho to throw looks at each other again.

"why would that be such a bad thing?" mingi asks you softly.

"because she likes yeosang," yunho whispers. but apparently not low enough.

"i do not," you spit out causing the boy to laugh and your cheeks heat. because, okay, you can even admit that's a lie.

"okay, maybe i do," you whisper, "but...i also like seonghwa. how can i not, he's just so..."

"safe," yunho says, "you know he likes you and he's perfect but almost a little too perfect. and nice, but almost a little too nice."

"oh jesus christ," mingi mumbles, "and here he goes, about to defend-"

"but yeosang, there's passion there. and fire. you hate to love him."

you and mingi fall into the same position, head cradled in hands as you wonder how on earth you got yourself into this kind of situation so fast and mingi tries to remember the time he had peace and quiet during his lunch hour.

"well, you know my stance on the matter," mingi grumbles causing your head to pop up.

"this is a disaster," you whine, "i feel like i'm two timing seonghwa."

"how do you figure?" yunho asks, "you've known each other for what, three weeks? it's not like anything was ever made official."

"i know," you say quietly, "but me and yeosang agreed not to tell anyone about...what i told you guys yesterday. so i feel like, i don't know, it's a dirty little secret."

"the excitement of forbidden romance," yunho whispers to mingi, "i'll just keep tacking on reasons why her and yeosang are superior."

"i'm gonna punch you in the mouth."

your phone buzzing on the table has your eyes traveling to the screen, widening when you see seonghwa's name pop up. you alert the boys he texted you and they both, even mingi who just talked shit to yunho three seconds prior, jump up and lean closer.

"what'd he say?" they ask in unison.

you swipe your phone open and you look up at them with wide eyes.

"he wants me to meet him at his car after school."

and when the bell rings at three, that's exactly what you do. nervousness floods through you almost immediately, sweaty palms and knotted stomach as you make your way to the parking lot. the only feeling of comfort you get is the five buzzes coming from your phone, undoubtedly from mingi and yunho who demanded to exchange numbers and start a group chat.

and that's when you see him, leant against the hood of his car looking ethereal in his change of casual clothes and windblown black hair. you stumble over to him clumsily, hands behind your back nervously as you approach him with a small smile.

"hi," you squeak out and his whole face brightens when he sees you standing in front of him.

"hey, little one. you feeling better?"

you nod your head, walking closer to him and crossing your arms over your chest. "much better. my headache's gone and my knee doesn't even hurt," you say, wiggling your leg out in front of you.

"that's good," he smiles, eyes catching your shoes before looking up at you. "i got you something."

"oh?" you squeak, bringing your foot back down. you watch him with cautious eyes at he smirks at you, opening his back door and ushering you over with his finger. you peak inside and your eyes widen when you see a red box in the backseat of his car.

"what...what is that?"

there's no way. he didn't. he wouldn't. like yunho said, you've only known each other for three weeks. he wouldn't get someone he's known for three weeks a-

"before you freak out...." he prompts, "i missed your birthday so consider this a present."

"you don't even know when my birthday is, seonghwa," you say, anxiety starting to bubble up in you.

"exactly," he says playfully, "so i definitely missed it."

and when he lifts the box, you nearly pass out because there lies the glossiest pair of black shoes you've ever seen in your life. they're simple flats, adorned with a pretty little bow just under the toe and they're absolutely stellar compared to the tattered, slightly deformed ones on your feet.

"this isn't funny," you squeak out, "how much were those?"

"it doesn't matter," he says.

"it doesn't ma- of course it does!" and your voice squeaks and raises a little more than you intended. but he doesn't look phased, almost as if he was expecting this reaction from you.

"y/n c'mon..." he says calmly.

"seonghwa," you whine, "you can't honestly expect me to accept these."

"why not?" he asks, "then they'll at least stop harassing you about your shoes."

and the look that crosses your face he must mistake as insulted or offended because he's quick to speak again.

"not that there's anything wrong with them, i just..." his eyes roam over your face and it's like he's desperate for you to understand his intentions were pure. "i don't want them harassing you anymore. i hate seeing you sad, y/n. but that seems to be the shit they always say to you so..."

you bite your lip in frustration because fuck even when he's making you mad, you can't be.

he meant well, you know he did, but it's too much for you. too much for barely knowing you, jesus christ he doesn't even know your birthday, and too much when your feelings are so up and down and your mind is also on someone else.

"are you mad?"

you resist the urge to frown at his question because he sounds so unsure of himself, something you haven't quite heard from him.

"no, i'm not mad," you say quietly, "but i can't-i can't accept th-"

"ooh-a ooh-a! y/n with her new ferragamo, she's a fancy girl," wooyoung's loud voice booms through the parking lot and seonghwa covers his face in irritation. you turn around to see him, san and yeosang making their way over, the latter boy staring right into you.

"cut the shit, woo," seonghwa warns as san saunters up to excitedly.

"do you like them, y/n? i spotted them."

"they're beautiful, san," you tell him, smiling softly before your gaze moves to seonghwa. "but i cannot accept them. is your mother the same size? i'm sure she would love them."

"what?!" san shrieks.

"are you out of your mind!" wooyoung yelps, "look at the damn ones on your feet right now and-"

you hear a harsh shushing sound come from yeosang followed by a pained groan from wooyoung; you can only assume the boy elbowed him.

"walk me to my car," his deep voice rings before he quickly drags wooyoung and san away.

"thank you, i really do appreciate it, seonghwa," you tell him and your eyes search his to see if he's offended in anyway. because you would hate if this hurt him but he honestly couldn't have thought you would..

he lets out a sigh, shaking his head as he looks at you with a twinge of wonder in his eyes. but no pain, no insult, just that ever present look of warmth. "i assumed you wouldn't," he says softly, "but i had to try."

"i'm sorry," you wince and he lets out a chuckle.

"you're not seriously apologizing after i just surprised you with shoes," he says and you let out a strangled giggle of your own.

"you're too nice, you know," you tell him and against your better judgement move closer to him to fix a piece of his windblown hair. "some would say i probably don't deserve it."

"yeah? and who's that?" he hums, "i'll be sure to have a word with them."

you let out a scoff, shaking your head as you roll your tongue over your lips. "be nice."

"i thought i was too nice," he teases with a roll of his eyes and you push him lightly before stepping a few feet back.

"i'll see you tomorrow? no shoes please."

"maybe just a jacket," he hums, a smile brightening his face when he sees you squint your eyes at him.

"tomorrow," he says and the way he's looking at you has your heart pulling in your chest.

because it's different from fluttering, it's the kind of pulling that's almost...painful. like your heart is physically hurting at the sight of him looking at you so happy and soft. like your heart knows what's about to ensue.

you pass yeosang's car on your way to the bike rack, your eyes meeting through the windshield and holding the same pained expression. because you both can only keep this up for so long, keep your secrets and crushing guilt away until it all blows up in your face.

(part 17)

[chillyminmin]

hwang hyunjin -- stay with me

»  hwang hyunjin x reader

» words: 3.6K

» you were a drug dealer, he was into drugs and as cliche as it sounds, you were the only drug he needed.

You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, all you knew was that you needed a job immediately. So when you were offered one, you took it without thinking twice. 

Who would’ve known that it would lead you to smuggling drugs in the least obvious manner?

You sighed as you were supplied with another batch of cookies, the fifth one in this week alone. The employer gave you the name and address then you were off. The place was in the city, an apartment and one for rich people at that. You took note that the cookies were a lot more than usual, maybe they’re throwing a party. 

You checked the name: Hwang Hyunjin.

Once you got to the building, you asked where Hyunjin’s apartment was. When they gave it to you, you noticed the slight smirk the guards had on their faces. You pushed the thought to the back of your head as you entered the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor.

As the bell dinged and the doors opened,  you were greeted with two large, brown, oak doors. You walked towards the doors and rang the doorbell. Moments later, the door opened revealing a pretty cute guy.

“Hwang Hyunjin?” You asked.

The boy shook his head. “I’m Felix, Hyunjin’s inside.” He then looked at you quite confused. “But he didn’t say anything about a girl coming over.”

“Ah, no, I’m only here to deliver these.” You showed him the box and he recognized the packaging immediately. “He needs to pay.”

“Of course he does.” Felix chuckled. “One moment-- Hyunjin!! Delivery! And bring your wallet!” 

You kept a small smile on and Felix turned back to you. “So, is this a side job of yours? Delivering drugs?”

You shrugged. “Needed money, most probably not a side job at the moment.”

The boy frowned. “Tough times?”

You nodded and not long after, another boy arrived, who you assumed was Hyunjin since he was holding cash in his hand.

“Hwang Hyunjin?” You asked once again.

He nodded. “You’re y/n, right?” You nodded. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing delivering drugs to different people?”

“Desperate times call for drastic measures.” You replied as you reached your hand out. "You of all people should understand that."

"I do understand that," he replied as he handed the cash over. "That's why we're in a mafia group."

"Hyunjin," Felix hissed, "are you allowed to tell her that?"

The boy shrugged, "Does it matter? Besides," he smirked as he took the cookies from you, "drug dealers are sworn to secrecy."

As you turned to leave he called you again. You turned to see him wearing a different expression; he seemed almost unsure.

"Stay with me? With us, I mean."

"What? Hyunjin--" Hyunjin cut Felix off with a shush.

You scoffed lightly and couldn't help but smirk. "Maybe sometime else. You know how to contact me."

That was two years ago, and you haven't seen him since.

"Y/n, there's an offer up on the table. You want it?"

You hummed, "Depends on what the offer is."

"A deal with this rising mafia, they call themselves SKZ. Lousy name if you ask me." A chuckle followed.

"Well, Jongsuk, no one asked." You teased as you approached him and asked for more details.

"They want cocaine and valium, some morphine as well, don't know why. Said a guy named 'Lee Know' was gonna come and meet 'ya. He's their drug dealer."

You raised a brow, "Lee Know, that's a weird code name. At least we know he's a Lee."

"And we know Lees are shitheads." Jongsuk countered with a laugh. "They wanna meet tonight, ten in the evening. By the riverside."

"I guess they're talking about the Han River. Classic. Alright, I'll go. Tell them I'm taking them up on the offer." You walked away, heading to the storage. "Thanks, Jongsuk!"

"You be careful out there, y/n!"

"Always am."

Night approached and you double-checked, making sure you had everything you needed for the exchange. Your bag was full of valium, cocaine, and some syringes for the morphine.

You took a mask and a cap; it was protocol to cover your face while going on a drug deal. You secured the bag on the motorbike and got on, revving the engine on. The sound was music to your ears and it made you smile a bit.

You waved to the people in the garage before you sped off to your destination, wondering who this Lee Know guy was and who SKZ could be. Maybe they were a bunch of old guys in suits, government officials under a disguise. But then again, maybe they were just a bunch of people making the best of their situation, like you were.

When you reached the riverside, it was just you. You sighed as you turned the engine off and put the stand down, getting off the bike. You kept the mask and cap on and hugged your jacket closer as the breeze swept by. You looked at the lights shimmering, reflected on the river and wondered where you could be now if you had left this line of business when you were given the chance to.

"So sorry for being late," a voice chirped, "had to walk all the way here. Damn Chang-- Spear.B needed the bike for who-knows-what."

You spun around and almost had the wind knocked out of you when  you laid your eyes on him. This guy -- Lee Know, perhaps -- was breathtaking.

You shrugged. "No worries. As long as you have what we asked for," your eyes narrowed as you scanned his figure, "but it seems like you don't."

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. "Fuck, I knew I was forgetting something."

You laughed humorlessly as you took your gun out of your pocket and aimed it at him.

"Woah, hey." He chuckled nervously as he held his hands up. "We don't have to get so violent, do we?"

"Oh, we do." You countered. "Lee Know, was it?" He nodded. "Well, if you know how our deals usually go, then you'd be wiser than to forget to bring what we need in order for this transaction to happen."

"Okay, look, give me one more chance yeah? I swear I didn't mean to-- "

"We don't do second meetings." You cocked the gun. "And we don't miss a shot."

"I'll take you there. Where your money is. I'll direct you there, please."

"What's so important that you need in the bag, huh? I'm sure you have a gun in there, why won't you use it?"

He seemed to hesitate before answering. "A friend is dying. He was shot and he can't take the pain. We can't take him to the hospital, that's why we-- "

"Ordered morphine." He nodded. "How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"My name is Minho," he replied, "Lee Minho."

You narrowed your eyes. "And revealing your true name proves you in what way?"

"First rule in drug trading," he said as he approached you slowly, his hands still up. "No revelation of real names."

You exhaled slowly as he was correct. He was now in front of you, only three steps away and his desperation was so very clear.

"Please," he breathed out, "just let me take you there."

When you got there, Minho immediately told the guards to stand down as he rushed the both of you inside, his eyes glancing at the bag you were securely holding.

"Hyung, you took forever!"

"Innie, not now-- where's Chan?"

"Wait-- who is she?"

"Not now! Where is Chan, Jeongin?"

"He hasn't left Felix's side."

Minho grabbed hold of your arm and rushed you through a corridor, briefly stopping in front of a door only to hurriedly open it. You saw two other boys; one laying down on a bed, shirtless, with a red stained bandage wrapped around his stomach. Another was sitting beside him, calming him down.

"Hyung, I brought her here, I'm sorry, it was the only way--"

"You risk our lives because you forgot your fucking bag? Why didn't you just kill her?"

Minho pursed his lips and replied quietly, "I didn't have my gun with me."

"Minho, for fuck's sake. Get your head in line, will you? We don't have time for your damned--"

Everyone's attention was refocused on the boy laying on the bed -- who seemed quite familiar to you all of a sudden -- who suddenly started to shake violently.

"Fuck," Chan, you figured, cursed under his breath. “We ran out of morphine, he’s feeling it.”

You realized quickly that he was having some withdrawal from the drug as you yanked your arm away from Minho's grip and set the bag down on the floor, opening it and going through its contents.

"What are you--"

"I'm trying to save your friend." You cut him off as you got a vial of morphine and a syringe.

You stood up and headed to the side of the bed. "Hold him down."

Chan and Minho did so as you took the syringe out of its packaging and stabbed the needle into the vial, collecting the liquid.

You quickly glanced at the two as you hovered over the injury. "Hold him down."

You stabbed through the bandage and injected the liquid. A groan emitted from the boy but slowly started to calm down, his shaking coming to a halt. He breathed heavily as Chan caressed his head, calming him down.

You sighed deeply as you slowly removed the needle and went looking for a trash bin. Minho appeared by your side and held his hand out in a silent gesture. You handed it to him and he disposed of it.

He led you out of the room and into the kitchen. That was when you realized, you were in a house.

"Is this your base?" You asked and he shook his head.

"Woojin hyung's house." He offered you a glass of water which you gratefully accepted. "We had to go here after Felix got shot going back to our base."

You removed your cap and mask, throwing away all protocol and downed the water in one go.

Minho blinked as he complimented you, "You're pretty."

"And I haven't seen you in ages." Another voice emerged. "Y/n, isn't it? You're still in this business, I see."

You turned your head to meet a familliar gaze, making you scoff lightly. "Well, I'll be damned. Hwang Hyunjin."

Over the years, he had grown more. He seemed fitter and he was definitely better looking than he already was. He grinned at you as he approached you two, leaning on a counter.

"Heard what you did for Felix. You probably didn't recognize him. But thanks."

"Ah," you handed Minho the glass back, "that's why he looked familiar." You blinked and focused back on Minho. "Right, the payment?"

"Oh," Minho blinked, "right."

"We may be in a house but I won't hesitate to shoot you." You threatened as you reached for your gun.

"I'm going, I'm going." Minho hurriedly said as he scampered away.

When he was gone, Hyunjin approached you and chuckled, eyeing you. "You've grown. You aren't just delivering anymore, are you?"

You hummed as you tucked your gun away. "Would say I got sucked in but it was my choice to stay."

Hyunjin stopped in front of you and brushed some hair away, tucking it behind your ear and cupped your cheek.

"Two years," he said softly, "two damn years and you're still as attractive as ever."

You raised a brow. "You're one to talk."

"Maybe I shouldn't." Hyunjin continued, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned closer. "But goddamn, you're something else."

He closed the gap between you two, capturing your lips in a kiss and you kissed back, hands coming up to hug his waist. He cupped both your cheeks as he swiped your bottom lip for entrance which you gave. He slid his tongue in and out as his hands trailed down to your waist.

He briefly broke the kiss, "On the counter."

You followed what he demanded and he spread your legs, resting between them. He kissed you again, and this kiss was hungrier, deeper, filled with more need and lust. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair and he grunted at the feeling, pulling his lips away and you felt pride at seeing how his eyes seemed to be so dark.

"Uh," a cough filled the air, "I have the payment, but I think you're being paid in a different way."

You scoffed lightly as Hyunjin groaned, pulling his body away from yours. You hopped off the counter and gave Hyunjin a quick kiss on the cheek before going to Minho. You collected the payment before taking your mask and cap from Hyunjin.

"Ah, y/n?" Minho called after you as you walked back to your motorbike. "Don't tell anyone about this place?"

You mounted the bike and eyed the two boys as you put your cap on. "Don't worry, Lee Know, second rule of drug trading? Keep everything a secret." You winked as you put your mask on and ignited the engine, pushing the stand up and driving away without a wave.

"So..." Minho started.

"Don't." Hyunjin glared as he turned around and went back in the house, leaving a chuckling Minho outside.

"Hyunjin?"

"Y/n. Hey."

"What are you-- how did you--?"

"We're both in gangs, y/n. It's not that difficult to track you down."

"Okay, that answered how, but why--"

Your question was cut off by Hyunjin's lips crashing onto yours as his hands held you close to him, hugging you by your waist. You made a noise of surprise that was muffled by the kiss but you still kissed back.

He pulled away for a moment only to kiss your neck. "I came to finish what we started earlier."

It didn't take long for you two to make it to your bed, clothes already off and Hyunjin was kissing every inch of your skin. He held onto you so delicately and loved the sounds you made at his kisses. The small gasps, the silent whines, the whispers of his name.

He held your hands, intertwining your fingers as he peppered kisses all over you. You felt yourself heating up at his small praises, the way his eyes were full of want and need.

"Y/n," he breathed out as he kissed your forehead, "tell me if it's too much, okay?"

You nodded, not too trusting with your words at the moment.

He aligned himself before entering your heat slowly, groaning at the way you felt.

"So wet." He gasped out. "Fuck, baby, you're so wet for me, hmm?"

You moaned at the way he was slowly filling you up and tightened your hold on his hands as you realized his size.

"H-Hyunjin." You breathed out and he groaned, twitching slightly at how you sounded.

"Say that again." He said as he slowly started to pull out.

"Hyun--" he started to slowly enter you again. "Ah, Hyunjin."

"Baby, I need to fuck you." He moaned out. "Tell me when to go."

After a while, you nodded and he let out a sigh as he quickened his pace, letting go of one of your hands to steady himself. Your soft moans started becoming louder as he thrust in and out of you in a steady pace.

"Am I doing alright, baby?" He breathed out. "Am I fucking you well, baby?"

You moaned in response and this fueled him, making his pace even faster. He let go of your other hand to keep himself up, loving the way your body felt under him, how you tightened around his cock, how his name spilled from your lips.

He licked his lips as he slowly pulled out of you but before you could whine, he kissed your lips before slamming his hips back to yours, your yelp muffled by his mouth. He did this repeatedly for a while before pulling his lips away to deeply thrust in you.

"Hyunjin-- Hyunjin." You were in pure bliss and you wanted him to know that. "Hyunjin, fuck, you're so good."

"Am I?" He brought a hand down to your clit and played with it. "Am I fucking you well, baby? Oh, shit."

You clenched around his cock feeling your high coming. Heat had started to pool at the bottom of your stomach and you whined, not wanting it to end already.

"Do that again, baby," he breathed out, "clench around me-- yes."

You moaned at how desperate he sounded and fisted at the sheets. With his moans and the way he was fucking you, you couldn't last very long.

"Hyun..."

"Me too, baby, me too." He pulled his hand away and focused on thrusting into you, hitting that spot every time. "You sound beautiful."

You moaned loudly as you came, tightening around him, pushing him off the edge as he came with a moan. You both came down from your highs, Hyunjin breathing heavily as he pulled out of you and laid beside you.

You rested your head on his chest and not long after, you two had fallen asleep.

After that night, you didn't sleep with anyone else. When you woke up, he was gone and you didn't dare to look for him. You were disappointed but expected it, who were you to think that you meant something to him?

You didn't know how, but you seemed to have gotten attached to Hyunjin already. And it only got worse from there.

Your group had been betrayed and no one would take you in. No one but SKZ.

When you entered their base, the first to recognize you was Minho. He gave you a smile but you ignored him. If it wasn't for his little deal, you wouldn't have seen Hyunjin again.

You wished you wouldn't cross paths with Hyunjin for a while and your wish was granted, but only for a while.

"Y/n."

You ignored his call no matter how hard your heart hammered against your chest, no matter how much you wanted to run to him.

"Y/n, I'm sorry."

You ignored him again as you loaded the gun, making sure the safety was on before putting it in your bag.

"Y/n, please--"

"Y/n! We're leaving in 10."

Without turning you nodded. "Thanks, Jongsuk."

"Anytime," he paused and decided to tease, "babe."

You halted your actions and sighed lightly as you heard his retreating footsteps. He knew about you and Hyunjin, he knew how affected you (apparently) were when you woke up with Hyunjin missing. He knew that you were developing feelings for Hyunjin and even though you thought it was only infatuation, he pointed out that maybe, it was growing to be something more.

"Did he just call you babe?" Hyunjin asked as he started to slowly stride over to you. "Are you two dating?"

Again, you ignored him and it was getting on his nerves.

"Damn it, y/n, talk to me!" He gripped your wrist and spun you around. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't want to leave but I had to. I was- I was--"

"You were what, Hyunjin?" You deadpanned, now realizing how much you missed his voice, his touch: him.

He breathed out shakily as he let go of your wrist and looked into your eyes. "I was getting attached." He confessed. "Y/n, I was thinking how it could be if you had my kids. I was thinking of ways to keep you happy, I was thinking of ways to keep you by my side--" he smiled sadly.

"I was thinking of ways to love you."

Your heart skipped a beat as you searched his eyes for lies but there was none, it was full of longing and love.

"Hyunjin...."

"Let me love you." He held your hands. "Please." He whispered. "Stay with me."

You blinked and giggled. "I have to be out in five minutes."

"No you don't," he pouted as he let your hands go and jogged to the door. "Minho hyung!"

"What!"

"Take over y/n's place!"

"Why?"

"I need to love her!"

"Too much information, Hyun!"

You laughed softly as Hyunjin closed the door and locked it then he basically jogged over to you with an unsure look to his eyes.

You cupped his cheeks and there was a spark in his eye. You smiled softly as you pecked his lips. "Then love me."

Hyunjin's kisses weren't hungry, they weren't fast or messy. They were careful, soft and full of love. He laid you down on the bed and started to strip you slowly, kissing every inch of your body, muttering a quiet "I admire you" in each kiss. You sighed in content as you surrendered yourself to him, to his love.

And this went on until you became impatient, begging him to fuck you already. He chuckled as he kissed the top of your nose, teasing you with his tip lightly prodding at your entrance.

"You told me to make love to you," he said as he entered, "this is me making love to you."

You moaned at the feeling of being filled up and Hyunjin sighed, intertwining your hands. You bucked your hips up and he clicked his toungue.

"I can fuck you later, baby." He kissed your forehead. "But tonight, I'll make love to you, remember?"

"Hyunjin..."

His pace was steady and slow, sensual and deep, and every time he thrust into you, you let out a small moan. He grunted as you tightened around him, realizing that deeply thrusting into you brought you close to your high quickly.

"Am I doing alright, baby?" He asked softly. "Am I loving you well?"

"Yes, Hyunjin." You moaned out as you tightened around him again as he brushed against your clit and hit your g-spot. "Fuck, yes."

Heat pooled at the bottom of your stomach and clenched and un-clenched around him. He got the message and slightly quickened his pace, getting you both to your highs.

"Baby, stop doing that-- y/n-- I'm not gonna la-- ah."

You let out a shaky moan as you tightened around him and came, making him cum with you. He breathed your name out and stilled himself, catching his breath. You both came down from your highs and he pulled out, watching at how his cum spilled out of you with a shy smile.

You rolled your eyes at his duality as he laid down beside you and pulled the blankets over you both, hugging you close to him.

"You're staying this time, right?" You asked softly.

"I am," he kissed the side of your head.

----

chan woojin minho changbin jisung felix seungmin (will be updated)

----

DHASJFFO? TWO OF THOSE I PUT TWO-- hi someone collect me please, hyunjin's a very dangerous bias wrecker-- @honeybinnies YOUR MAN

[trulymadlysydney]

Somewhere In Time: One

“Time is the most undefinable yet paradoxical of things; the past is gone, the future is not come, and the present becomes the past even while we attempt to define it, and, like the flash of lightning, at once exists and expires.”

-- Charles Caleb Colton.

**Please do not repost without permission***

4:37pm, December 31st, 1999

“Thank you so much for coming in, and happy new year!” 

The bells above the door of the book shop jingle as the last of the day’s customers exit, simultaneously allowing a gust of cold wind to fill the front of the small building.  Twenty-six year old Roni Elliot smiles cheerfully until the customer has disappeared out of sight, at which point she lets out a long, labored sigh.  “That’s the last of ‘em, Eileen.”

An older woman appears from around the corner of a row of bookshelves, carrying a stack of books in her arms that she had been in the process of returning to their rightful spots.  “Finally. Thought they’d never leave. It’s New Years Eve, for heaven’s sake, what are they doing here?” The look on her face makes Roni giggle, but Eileen means every word that comes out of her mouth.  

Roni knows the closing routine well, and immediately goes to lock up the shop without even being asked.  “We could ask ourselves the same question, you know.”

Eileen scoffs, scanning the title of the top book in her arms and placing it on a shelf.  She doesn’t say anything, but the smile on her face informs Roni that she’s not as grumpy as she seems. She never is really, and at this point, Roni is used to her moods.  

Roni adores Eileen.  Her bark is worse than her bite, and Roni has become well acquainted with said bark.  But Eileen loves Roni just as much, and although she struggles to express it, Roni knows Eileen would do anything for her.

The quiet doesn’t last long, as Roni knew it wouldn’t. Eileen is immediately launching into a story about her younger sister and how careless she is.  Roni offers what little advice she can give on the situation while she sits and sorts through the box of used book donations, piling them all into different categories so they’ll be easier to place on the shelves.  

“I’ve told her several times, ‘you can’t keep putting this off, Debby’ but she never listens to me.  And I said to her, ‘Debby,’ I said,  ‘what are you going to do when Richard passes?’  But she insists she’s too young to think about that just yet.”  Eileen laughs.  “I’m sixty-nine years old but at least I’ve got this store to my name.  And what does Debby have?”

“You’re sixty-nine?” Roni teases.  “Eileen, why didn’t you tell me? You don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Oh stop that. I’m being genuine, Veronica.”

Roni loves working in the bookshop. She finds comfort among the used books; the smell of old pages strangely familiar and welcoming.  She’s been at this job since 1995, and she can’t seem to pull herself away from it all these years later.  She’s grown too attached to Eileen, to the old books with the ripped spines and the dog-eared pages.   It’s a family owned shop, opened in 1920 by Eileen’s grandmother, Louise.  Eileen had grown up in this shop, eventually taking it over when her own mother passed, and in a way Roni feels as though she also grew up here.

Yellowing photographs cover the walls, some dating all the way back to the shop’s opening. Pictures of Louise with early patrons, pictures of past employees, and even a few family pictures that have nothing to do with the shop are all lined along the walls, yellowing with age and curling at the corners.  Louise was a beautiful woman, and some of her photos look eerily like young photos of Eileen.  Roni often finds herself scanning the pictures on the walls, asking Eileen to tell her about some of the people photographed.  But Roni’s favorite picture is one that hangs in the back corner of the shop.  

The photo is dated 1965, and features a freckle-faced little twelve year old girl with pigtails, standing beside her bicycle--the basket of said bicycle filled to the brim with science books.   The little girl was none other than Roni’s own mother, Tanya, and Roni gets a pang of both joy and sadness every time she looks at it.  According to Eileen, who was thirty-five at the time of the photograph,  Tanya used to ride her bike to the shop every Friday-- because Friday was when she got her weekly allowance-- and purchase as many books as she could carry.  It’s a story Roni’s heard thousands of times, but one she never gets tired of hearing. 

“And of course her children will never come in here to see me.”  Roni is only half-heartedly listening to Eileen, who is still ranting about Debby.  “I helped her raise those kids when Richard was away and, and for what? They’re all grown now and all they care about are those darn computers.”

Eileen had never had children of her own, but she’d grown fond of Tanya and her frequent visits.  She was one of the first to hear about Tanya’s pregnancy with Roni, and one of the first to offer up help when Roni’s father left without a word. When Tanya had passed, Roni had gone to live with her own grandmother, but she’d always considered Eileen a grandmother as well.  It was an unspoken bond between the two of them; one that even Roni sometimes struggled finding the words to explain. 

“It’s a shame,” Eileen’s voice brings Roni out of her own head once again, and she feels bad for zoning out. “Nowadays the young folks just don’t appreciate books like they used to.”

Roni sighs, feeling an almost pang of guilt at Eileen’s words.  It’s a conversation they’ve had multiple times, and no matter what, Roni is never quite sure how to respond.  She speaks up, placing a donated book into the “romance” pile.  “There are still kids out there who love books.”   

“Have you seen one person in here under the age of 30 today, Veronica?”

Eileen makes a point, but Roni is nothing if she isn’t positive. “They’re just busy preparing for their New Years Eve parties tonight.”

“And then after the parties, where will they be?”

Roni smirks, thumbing mindlessly through an autobiography before throwing it into its own pile. “Hungover.”

Eileen shakes her head, but Roni’s words coax a smile onto her face.  “I don’t know, honey.  It just doesn’t seem promising.”

Roni halts her movements, glancing over to where Eileen sits.  Eiileen looks sad, and it weighs heavy on Roni’s heart.  So roni sighs, offering a warm smile.  “Heyyy,” she says softly.  “You’ll see.  2000 is going to be a good year.  I’ll make sure of it.  I have plans for this place!”

“I’ve had plans for this place since I was six years old!. But everything keeps changing, and kids don’t care.”

“You’ve got to work on being more positive, girl.” Roni rises to her feet and gathers the pile of romance books.  “Maybe this Y2K nonsense will only wipe out all the kids obsessed with technology.  And then the only people left will be all the young people with old souls like you and me.”  

Eileen laughs again.  “Ohh stop that,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand.  “Speaking of all that, shouldn’t you be home getting ready?  I’m sure you’ve got some exciting plans tonight.”

Roni raises her voice to be heard better,  now speaking from the back corner of the shop where the romance section is located.  “Oliver and I are having a party.  Couple of friends. Nothing special.”

“Oliver,” Eileen repeats, as if trying to jog her memory as to who Oliver is.  “That boyfriend of yours still treating you well?”

Roni has been with Oliver since she was sixteen years old, ten years ago, and in the entire five years she’s worked here, Eileen has asked that same question at least once a week.  “Yeah, he’s totally great.  We’re still like, really happy.”

“Well, good.  You make sure he puts a ring on your finger before any funny business though.  You don’t want any babies you aren’t ready for.”

Roni snorts quietly to herself.  “Don’t worry, Eileen. There won’t be any of that any time soon.”

“See to it that there isn’t.”

It’s quiet for the next few moments, with Eileen closing down the cash register and Roni placing books back on their shelves.  She glances up at the pictures that she’s grown so familiar with on the walls.  Sometimes she likes to make up stories for each, imagining their entire family line, what they do for work, where they’re from.  

There’s the larger woman in the picture dated 1987, smiling and laughing with her eyes closed beside a man with a thick gray mustache.  There’s the picture of the boy in the newsboy cap, dated 1924, standing beside a stack of books that’s taller than him, grinning at the camera with a dimpled smirk.  And then there’s a picture of Roni and Eileen, dated 1996- just one year after Roni started working here.  Eileen is giving Roni a stern yet amused look, with a hint of a smile tugging on her cheeks, while Roni is giving the camera a goofy, mid-laugh smile.   It’s one of Roni’s favorite pictures ever, and one of these days she swears she’ll get a copy of her own to frame.

“Veronica, dear.”  Roni doesn’t know how much time has passed when Eileen catches her attention once more.  “Why don’t you go on ahead and get out of here?  I can finish this up.”

“What?  No, I’m not gonna leave you--”

“Oh, honey.  You know I can handle this on my own.  You go on home, get your party all set up for tonight.  Don’t worry about me.”

Roni appears from around the shelves, subconsciously playing with the rings on her fingers.  “But don’t you need to get out of here, too?  You’ve gotta have some party plans tonight.”

Eileen laughs  “The only plans I’ve got for tonight are to go home, cook myself some dinner, go to bed, and wake up in a brand new millennium.”

“If we make it that long!” Roni teases, eyes widening in a jokingly scared face. “You know Y2K is gonna take us all out.”

“Oh Veronica,” Eileen scoffs, “stop with that nonsense.”  She swats at Roni’s behind as she passes, and Roni giggles.  “You and I both know we’re going to wake up tomorrow and everything is going to be completely normal.  We’re going to get one day to relax and then it’s back to work.  Within a week no one will even remember any of this.”

Roni glances down at the mood ring on her finger, chewing absentmindedly at her chapped lips.  She knows Eileen is probably right, but there’s a part of her that hopes she isn’t.

Still, this is not the time or the place to get into all of that.  So she brushes it aside with a giggle.  “How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve been around sixty-nine years, dear.  They’ve predicted this more times than I can count on all my fingers and toes. If the world is going to end, I just hope she gets on with it. I’m tired.”

This time Roni laughs out loud.  “Word,” she replies, beginning her final go-round of the little shop, making sure each aisle is neat and tidy.  “But really, you sure you’re gonna be okay alone here?”

Roni hardly hears Eileen’s answer when she stops in the sci-fi section.  She scans the book titles briefly before finding exactly what she’s looking for; the over-used copy of Black Holes and Time Warps: Einstein’s Outrageous Legacy by Kip S. Thorne.

With slow fingers, Roni gently slides the book from the shelf and runs her hand over the cover.  She’s borrowed this book countless times, read it cover to cover so many times she could potentially recite it, and filled at least a hundred pages in her journal with notes not only from this novel, but several others as well.   Some part of her mind tells her that it’s pointless to borrow this book yet again, as if she’s going to find something she hasn’t already seen.  But the other part of her mind, the much louder and more prominent part, tells her to read it just one more time.  

Just in case. 

Roni takes a deep breath and walks up to where Eileen still stands closing the register. “Hey, Eileen?”

“Hm?”  Eileen hardly even glances up at Roni from over her glasses.

“Would it be okay if I borrowed this book?”

This time, Eileen does look up, squinting over her glasses to read the title of the book before shooting Roni an incredulous look.  “Again?”

“It’s my favorite!”  It’s only partly a lie.  “I just find it like, super fascinating, you know?”

“What exactly are you expecting to get from reading it hundreds of times?”

Roni bites her tongue, not daring to allow herself to tell Eileen what she really wants.  “I’m not… expecting anything,” she lies.  “I just think it’s dope.”

“Dope,” Eileen mocks, shaking her head with a laugh.  She eyes Roni carefully, then lets out a sigh.  “Alright, love, of course you can take it.”

Roni beams, surprisingly relieved although she’d known the entire time that Eileen would say yes. Eileen continues speaking as Roni heads towards the back room.  “And stop using those slang words on me, Veronica, you know I don’t understand them.” Despite her words, she smiles, nodding her head towards the ‘Employees Only’ door.  “Go on and get out of here, now. You’ve got a party to set up.”

“Eileen, you’re the bomb.”  Now Roni’s just teasing her, and she blows Eileen a kiss that has her giggling.

It’s about ten minutes later when Roni is waving her final goodbye to Eileen and slipping out the door.  It is windier than usual outside, and she pulls her jacket tightly around her shoulders, not at all looking forward to walking home in this cold.  She glances up at the cloudy sky, which looks like it could snow at any moment, and lets out a sigh.  As much as she loves her friends, she really hopes they don’t all get snowed in at her and Oliver’s house tonight.

Roni is so distracted by the sky and her own thoughts that she shrieks when she feels herself bump straight into another person.  She blinks as she regains her balance, trying to make out the person in front of her.

It’s an old man she’s seen before on this street. Roni has never been sure if he’s homeless or crazy, but he’s always out here holding his signs and shouting about ‘the inevitable doom that will come if you don’t repent!”  His current sign reads “Y2K: The End Is Near”  in dripping red paint made to look-- very inaccurately-- like blood.

Roni lets out a sigh once her initial shock wears off.  “I’m sorry,  I didn’t--”

“The end is near!” The man shouts in Roni’s face, getting so close she can practically smell his breath.  “We have hours to go, do you have a plan?”

Roni grimaces before sliding past the man to continue on her walk home. “Sorry, dude.  My plan is to get shitfaced and fall asleep with my friends.  Good luck with the protesting though.”

Although he makes no effort to chase after her, he continues yelling; the further Roni gets away the louder he becomes.  “You’ll be sorry!  When the world comes to complete and utter chaos and you’ve got nowhere to go, see if I help you!! The end is nearer than you think, and you will suffer the consequences, do you hear me?”

He continues yelling for what feels like an eternity, and when Roni is finally out of earshot she rolls her eyes.  “Fuckin’ weirdo,” she mutters under her breath.  With that, she walks a little bit faster, tucking her house key between her pointer and middle finger in order to feel a bit more safe.

----------

9:31pm, December 31st, 1924

“Styles! Get over here.”

Twenty-five year old Harry Styles groans, wiping his hands on the rag hanging from the back of his pants.  He brushes his sweaty brow with the back of his wrist as he walks towards his supervisor, Frank Milton.  “Sir?”

“What is this?”  Frank shoves a leather shoe into Harry’s chest, and Harry has to take a moment to readjust himself so as to not fall over.  

He glances down at the shoe, trying his hardest to find a problem with it.  He sees his own reflection, a bit distorted in the shiny leather of the shoe.  He flips it around to look at the sole-- perfectly in tact, and finally gives up, shrugging.  “It’s a shoe.”

Frank scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head.  “You’re joking.  You’re absolutely joking.”

Harry glances around the factory.  A few of his friends are keeping an eye on the situation, but for the most part, no one is paying much attention to him.  He clears his throat.  “It’s proper to my eyes, sir.”

“Proper.”  Frank scoffs again, suddenly yanking the shoe from Harry’s hand and shoving it in his face.  “Does this seem proper to you, Styles?”

The shoe almost hits Harry’s nose, and he can smell the fresh leather from how close Frank is holding it to his face.  Harry squints, tilting his head back a bit so he can try and get a better idea as to what Frank could possibly be referring to.  He scans the shoe once more, shaking his head slowly when he once again comes up short handed.  “I don’t--”

“The throat line!” Frank throws the shoe with all of his might this time, and it lands harshly against Harry’s chest before plopping to the ground with a dull “plap” noise.  Harry wants to reach up and rub at the spot on his chest that the shoe impacted, but now Frank has nearly everyone’s attention, and Harry doesn’t so much as dare to move.   Frank takes a step closer to Harry, shoving his finger against the center of his chest. He’s so close now that Harry can feel his spit when he talks. “How many times have I told you to watch what you’re doing, Styles?  Hm? How many?”

Harry can’t think of a proper answer, and he’s not sure whether or not this is a rhetorical question.  More than anything, he wants to shove Frank’s finger off of his chest and show him exactly what he thinks of him.  He could tell Frank off right here and now, in front of everyone, once and for all.  Too many times has Frank gotten in Harry’s face over the most minuscule and trivial things.  Too many times has Frank gotten too big for his britches and abused the power he had over these men in this factory.  It drives Harry to near insanity, especially knowing that he could easily flip Frank over his shoulder and send him crashing to the ground (likely knocking him unconscious considering the concrete floor), without so much as breaking a sweat.

But Harry is one late bill away from having the power in his apartment completely shut off.  Harry is one blanket short of being completely warm in his bed at night, especially come this time of year.  And Harry only has about one meal left in his fridge to get him through till next payday.  Which means he can’t afford to give Frank a piece of his mind.

So Harry clears his throat and gives him an answer.  “Several.”

“Several times, Styles, and for what?  For the throat line of our shoes to look like this?!”  Frank gestures angrily at the shoe, now lying abandoned on the floor.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?  Huh?  How do we get it through your skull to watch what the fuck you’re doing?”

Harry won’t meet Frank’s eyes, and he’s certain that if he did he’d lose all control.  The fact that every pair of eyes in the factory is on him has become painfully obvious, and Harry can feel the tips of his ears turning red.  With every ounce of courage Harry can muster, he swallows his pride and bends down to retrieve the shoe.  “I’m sorry, sir.  If you’ll just give me another chance--”

Frank cuts him off with a jab of his knee into Harry’s side, successfully knocking off Harry’s balance and sending him to the ground.   “Does the integrity of this brand mean nothing to you?  Do deadlines just not matter in your world?”

On the one hand, Harry wants one of his mates to stand up for him.  But on the other, he hates that they’re all there watching this happen.  “Mr. Milton, I--”

“I have given you more than enough chances, Styles.  And this?” He kicks the shoe towards Harry.  “This is the way you repay me?”

“Mr. Milton--”

“I’ve had it, Styles.  You’re finished here.”

The entire factory seems to fall silent at Frank’s words, and Harry lets out all of his breath in disbelief.  The silence feels stuffy and hot, and Harry scans the entire room before glancing back up at Frank. Everything moves in slow motion, and not a single person in the room knows how to react.

Finally, Harry scoffs, shaking his head, and a bitter smile teases at the corners of his lips.  Harry isn’t one to beg, especially not when he’s down on the ground like this, and as desperate as he is for money, there’s a small part of him that’s relieved.  Harry closes his mouth, opens it again, glances around the room once more, and then smile’s a tongue-in-cheek smile up at Frank.  “I don’t… know what to say, sir.”

“Get your things.  I have nothing more to say to you.”

All eyes are on Harry when he lets out a long nasally sigh. He nods his head slowly before rising to his feet, taking the previously discarded shoe in his hand.  Frank turns to walk away, but stops dead in his tracks when he hears Harry’s voice. 

“I’m sure you don’t, Frank.”

Harry doesn’t move.  He soaks up every ounce of the thickness in the room and uses it to fuel himself even more.  When Frank finally does turn around on his heels, the look on his beet red face is almost enough to send Harry into a fit of laughter.

Almost, but not quite.

Frank takes a step towards Harry, intended to make him back down.  Instead he only grins, causing Frank to raise his eyebrows.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Well,” Harry says, nonchalantly turning the shoe in his hands, “Frank.  It’s unfortunate you feel that way.”  He glances up from under his lashes, completely unable to contain the smirk on his face.  “Because I’ve got an awful lot to say to you.”

Harry steps forward, shoving the shoe right back into Frank’s chest  before walking completely past him.  He walks further into the factory, gesturing vaguely with his hands.  “You think I’m going to lose any sleep over quitting this fuckin’ dump?”

“You watch your mouth, Styles.”

“The way you watch yours?”  Harry raises his eyebrows challengingly, continuing his walk around the room.  “The way you treat me--the way you’ve treated every single one of us for the last two years warrants no amount of respect from me, sir.”

Harry arrives at the machine of a coworker and pats him on the back.  “Eddie, how long have you been here?”

Eddie hesitates, eyes darting nervously between Frank and Harry.  “Uh,” he stammers.  “Three… three years…”

Harry gasps, feigning shock. “Three years, huh?  And in the amount of time that ol’ Frank has been in charge of this place, have you been acknowledged for your efforts and your devotion to this company?  Even once?”

Eddie glances back at Frank, completely frozen and unsure of how to go about this situation.  “Harry--”

Frank takes a step forward. “Mr. Styles, I will ask you one last time--”

“And you!” Harry walks over to another coworker, James, and nods his head at him.  “Mr. Harrison, is your wife not, what, eight months pregnant?”

James clears his throat.  “Nine.”

“Nine!  Nine months pregnant! Well, congrats, old man.  And over the last nine months, how many times has Frank allowed you to go home and be with your wife as she’s about to pop?”

“Styles, that is enough!” Frank’s voice is raised now, and Harry swears he sees steam rising from the old man’s bald head.

“It isn’t enough!” Harry shouts back.  “It will never be enough, Frank, until you understand that what you’re doing is wrong.  It’s slave labor, and its cruel.  Have you offered Bill over there any compensation for the time he nearly sliced his finger clean off?”

“Harry--”

“Do you know why that happened? It’s because you had him here at four in the morning after you’d worked him till eleven at night the night before.  It’s because you see your employees as money makers, not as people.  It’s because Mr. Frank fucking Milton doesn’t have a single bone of compassion in his old, tired body.  And everyone here knows I’m right.”

Frank now stands a few mere inches in front of Harry, but Harry doesn’t budge. He only grins.  “And if you think that I’m not going to the proper authorities to report your sorry ass now that I don’t work for you anymore, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Frank lunges for Harry then, wrapping his arms around his torso and sending both of them toppling to the ground.  He swings punches left and right with no proper aim, and although he does get a few good jabs in, Harry is stronger. 

Harry grunts, rolling over so that Frank is the one on the ground.  Frank is quick, however, blocking a few of Harry’s punches to his face.  He’s spewing curse words that Harry’s not even sure he’s heard before, and the blind rage inside of Harry takes over his body completely.  A year of being treated this poorly has done him in, he thinks, and he swears he could kill Frank if given the chance.

Harry hardly notices the complete chaos taking place around them as he and Frank rise to their feet to continue their brawl.  Some of the men are cheering, others are trying to pull the men apart.  Harry receives a solid sock to the eye that has him stumbling backwards, which he retaliates with a swift knee to Frank’s stomach.  Frank groans, hunching over briefly, and Harry swears he’s got him now.  He lunges forward, sending them both to the ground once again, and just begins swinging.

Harry feels he’s just getting warmed up, when he feels two pairs of arms grab him from behind to pull him away.  

Harry tastes blood, and he reaches up to wipe at his now swollen eye, that he’s sure is going to be black and blue come morning.  His absolute rage still hasn’t died down yet, although he’s fighting a losing battle now  He kicks and wiggles, but his captors are stronger than him, dragging him towards the exit doors.

The last thing Harry sees before reaching the doors are a few of the men helping Frank stand upright.  “Fuck you!” Harry spits.  “And fuck this place! You’ll all be sorry, this place is going to crash and burn and I’ll be laughing while it happens!  You’ll be begging me to come back, and--”

He’s cut off when he’s practically thrown out the front door.  The two men responsible shake their heads with disapproving glares.  “Good luck with that attitude in the real world, Styles,” one of them laughs before slamming the door.

But Harry isn’t finished.  “Yeah, fuck you, too actually!  I quit!”

Harry is met only with the sound of the wind, which feels surprisingly good against his hot body.  He reaches up to wipe at mouth, cursing when he sees the amount of blood on his hands.  He glances around him at the almost empty streets of New York, admittedly thankful that of the small handful of people around, not one really seems to acknowledge him.

“Bloody New York,” he mumbles under his breath before rising to his feet.

He lets out a somewhat injured sniff, wiping at his throbbing nose.  His head hurts, and more than anything all he wants right now is to crawl into his bed and sleep for the next three days.  He knows he can’t, however, because the bills are going to need to get paid one way or another.  And he’s got to start job hunting the moment his eyes open in the morning.

However, he figures he’s allowed to feel a bit sorry for himself for the time being.

Harry wraps his coat further around himself, shivering when another gust of wind comes his way.  Damn this cold.  Damn winter.  Damn the bills. Damn New York. 

Up ahead, Harry makes out a figure.  He assumes it’s a woman or a child, because the figure is much smaller than he is, but it’s stumbling around as if it’s had far too much to drink.  Harry squints against the dim light, trying to make out what’s going on.

The figure seems to be walking in his direction, and Harry slows his steps ever so slightly until he can figure out the appropriate course of action. Most likely it’s a drunk-- this area is swimming with them, especially around this time of night-- and he hopes he’ll be able to pass by without any sort of hassle.  Sometimes drunk men try to heckle him, or drunk women twice his age try to seduce him.  He always politely declines, but it’s awkward nonetheless.

But when Harry gets a bit closer, he realizes that the figure is neither of those things.

It’s a young woman, yes, and she is stumbling, but it isn’t the stumble of a drunkard.  It’s the stumble of someone who’s lost, dazed, or even perhaps sick.    Harry stops in his tracks.

“Miss, are you alright?”  

Harry’s voice seems to fall on deaf ears.  Although very few people are around, no one acknowledges the girl, and she stumbles again, nearly slamming herself into the brick building.  

Why is no one helping her?  Harry takes a step forward, then stops himself again when she glances around, as if she can hardly see two feet in front of her.  

“Miss?” He calls again, softer, as if afraid to startle her. 

This time she does acknowledge him, taking a shaky step towards him and nearly toppling over once again.  Harry wastes no time in rushing over to her, slightly annoyed that he’s the only one who seems to even realize this is going on.  She stumbles towards him and he lengthens his strides so as to close the distance between them as quickly as possible. 

He reaches her just in time, and the moment he’s close enough to get a decent look at her face, she collapses in his arms.  “Miss!”

She blinks sleepily up at him with furrowed brow and open mouth.  Her breathing is heavy, and Harry struggles to keep her somewhat upright as he watches her.  

“Are you alright?”  He asks, breathless.  He shakes her a bit, trying to get her to come to.  “Hey, look at me.  What’s going on?  Are you alright?”

The girl in his arms struggles to keep her eyes opened, but she gulps in a breath of air and reaches up for Harrys’ face with a shaky hand.   She runs a weak finger across his cheekbone, down his cheek, and to his jaw, as if she’s trying to recognize him.   Harry doesn’t understand, but something tells him he needs to hold still in this moment.  So he holds his breath as she traces his features.

“Miss,” he says slowly,  “what happened to you?”

Finally dropping her hand, she continues to blink sleepily up at him, confusion never once leaving her face. She looks like she’s struggling to speak, and Harry shakes her again ever so slightly to keep her conscious.  

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and Harry waits with bated breath for her to be able to get a clear thought out.  But when she does, it takes him completely by surprise.

“Mom?”

Harry scoffs.  He doesn’t mean to, but it comes out the second she says it.  “Well, how do you like that,” he says to himself.  “Save a damsel in distress and she thinks you’re her damn mother.”

But Harry doesn’t get the snarky response he’s expecting.  When he glances back down at her, her eyes are almost fully fluttered closed, and her head finally lulls to the side in complete relaxation.  She's passed out in his arms now, and he has absolutely no idea what to do in this situation. 

“Shit,” he says quietly, shaking her a bit more in an attempt to wake her.  “Please wake up, I didn’t mean it.”

She’s completely unresponsive now, and Harry is not fully convinced she’s even alive anymore.  He reaches up to run a hand through his sweaty hair, contemplating how on earth he’s supposed to go about dealing with this.  Should he call the police?  Should he take her to a hospital?  What happens if they blame him?  The black eye certainly isn’t going to bode well for him.

 He uses his hand to fan her face, even going so far to blow a little as if that’s going to do any good.  The panic is setting in, and it’s almost far too much for him to take when she stirs ever so slightly.

“Yes! Yes, wake up, there’s a good girl…”  Harry brushes a bit of her hair off of her forehead, shifting her a bit more so that she’s propped up.   When she opens her eyes, he beams, even though she looks just as confused as before-- if not more.

“Hello!” Harry says quickly,  “Good evening!  Yes, hi, I think you may have just passed away in my arms and then risen from the dead,  and I want to help you but I’m genuinely not even sure where to begin so please stay awake and tell me what happened to you because--

“Wait,” she says slowly, lifting her head a bit to look around.  As confused as she still seems, this is the most cognizant she’s been this entire time. Harry waits impatiently for her to say something, slowly becoming aware of the fact that he’s still holding her in his arms.

Finally, she looks up at him with an unreadable expression.  She’s not particularly concerned, not scared and not excited-- but something tells Harry that the question she asks is urgent.

“What year is it?”

[octothorpetopus]

Dancing In The Dark

minnesotamemelord on AO3

"Mom, I swear to god." Eddie waved away his mother's hands, which were fiddling with Eddie's bow tie for the thirteenth time that evening (he counted).

"Fine, fine. Just trying to be helpful." Sonia Kaspbrak stepped back to look at her son. "Oh, my beautiful boy. You look just like your dad." She wrapped him in a hug so tight his vision went dark around the edges.

"Come on, Mom, Bill's gonna be here any minute." Eddie pulled out of his mother's arms and straightened his jacket. He looked good. Real good. For who he was trying to look good for, he couldn't have said, but he was trying nonetheless. His mother moved to brush a lock of hair off his forehead when the doorbell rang mercifully. Eddie kissed her quickly on the cheek and sprinted away before she could make any more adjustments. He slammed the screen door behind him and smiled admiringly up at Bill, who was shifting from foot to foot nervously on his front stoop. "C'mon, let's go before my mom tries to rope us into taking pictures." Bill gave him a look of mock horror and followed Eddie to the Jeep in the driveway. Eddie had mowed lawns and walked dogs for months to afford it, and he took care of it with the diligence of a mother taking care of a child. Bill slipped into the immaculate passenger seat.

“H-h-how’re we going to f-fit e-e-everyone?” Eddie’s car was a five-seater, which was not going to work for the six remaining members of the Losers Club. Luckily, he had thought of that.

“Stan’s getting Ben and Mike. We’ve just gotta get Richie.” Bill grinned as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Let’s go g-get Trashmouth, th-then.”

Richie lived close enough to the high school that he could have walked if he wanted, but he insisted that there was no ‘style’ in walking to prom. Eddie countered that a beige Jeep was not particularly stylish either, to which Richie responded that Eddie’s mom’s beige Jeep was stylish, which left Eddie more confused than insulted. Eddie jogged up the front steps to the Tozier residence and rang the doorbell, which was one of the ones that chimes like church bells when you ring it instead of a simple ding-dong. Muffled voices grew louder as a formless blob approached the door, barely visible through the frosted glass windows, and then the front door was thrown open. Eddie almost fell down the steps, and would have, if Richie hadn’t grabbed him by the arm and dragged him inside. The reason for his sudden bout of vertigo was, of course, Richie. Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier had, seemingly overnight, become hot. Really hot. Not that Eddie was attracted to him in any way, but… objectively. Hot with a capital H. His hair, which was usually a mess (Eddie had once picked a leaf out of it), was slicked back carefully, and for the first time in all the years they had known each other, Eddie could see all of Richie’s face. He was wearing what was presumably his father’s suit, but it fit him perfectly. What Eddie might have described once as lanky had transformed into a sort of lithe grace. The only thing that told him that this was, in fact, the Richie Tozier he knew was his glasses, held together with more adhesive tape than actual screws.

“Come on, Eds, my mom wants pictures.” Eddie dug his heels into the carpet, grinding Richie’s purposeful march to a halt.

“Bill’s waiting in the car, and-”

“Just one picture?” Richie fixed Eddie with a kicked puppy gaze. Eddie couldn’t say no. For some reason, he’d never been able to say no to Richie.

“Fine. One.” Richie pulled him into the living room, where Maggie and Wentworth stood, a Polaroid camera in Maggie’s perfectly manicured hands.

“Hurry up, Ma,” Richie whined as he slung an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, fixing the camera with an easy smile. Eddie couldn’t help but smile too. Richie was like that, totally infectious in everything he did. It didn’t matter if his jokes weren’t funny, you laughed anyway because he was laughing. You smiled when he smiled, and when he was happy, it was like sunlight flooded the room even if there were no windows or it was nighttime. The film came out of the camera with a soft whrrrrr, and Richie snatched it before it had a chance to develop.

“Thanks, mom. I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Be good, Richie,” she warned, but grinned when he kissed her cheek. Wentworth clapped his son on the shoulder and smiled too, the same wide and easy smile as Richie’s. Richie steered Eddie back towards the front door, and they exited into the cool May night.

"Aw, come on, I gotta sit in the back?" Richie complained, but it was superficial. Richie always rode in the back of the car, or on the back of Eddie's bike when they rode double.

"I-i-it's just for a f-few m-minutes." Bill greeted Eddie with a high-five.

"We meeting Haystack and the others there?"

"Yeah. Ben's mom wanted to take pictures even more badly than yours did."

"Y-you guys t-t-took pictures w-w-without me?"

"Be glad you avoided it," Richie reassured Bill. "We'll get pictures when we get there." Bill flipped on the radio. Queen sang "You're My Best Friend", and Richie crooned along. As with everything else, it wasn't long before Eddie's wobbling voice joined him, followed by Bill, who never stuttered when he sang and in fact had a very nice voice.

Derry High School looked mostly like it always did, short of the hand-painted banner hanging over the gym doors that said A NIGHT IN PARIS. The only thing that could've told you that it was supposed to be Paris was a seven-foot Eiffel Tower in front of the photographer and the pink tissue paper over the fluorescent lights, casting a rosy glow into the gym. It was, in a word, underwhelming, but Eddie still shivered in anticipation. He'd had both dreams and nightmares about tonight, but now he was here. There was no more fighting and no more hiding to be had.

"Not bad," came a voice from behind them. Richie, Eddie, and Bill spun around to see Stan, Mike, and Ben behind them. Mike was the one who had spoken, and he looked fly as hell. They all did. Ben had already begun to lose weight, and although he was not yet the Adonis he would one day become, he looked happier. More confident. Eddie was proud of him. He was proud of all of them for making it this far.

"Who's ready to paaaaaarty!?" Richie cried in his Movie Announcer Voice.

"Beep-beep, Richie," Stan said, rolling his eyes.

"You beep-beep, Stan, it's prom. It's time to fuckin' party." And then Richie took off into the fray, leaving the rest of the Losers to try to catch up with him. They found him by the snack table, downing a plastic cup full of orange, vaguely opaque punch.

"Richie, that's almost definitely spiked."

"Yeah, Eds, and so what?" Richie refilled his glass. "Drink up, boys, for tonight, we rise!" Drinks were passed around. Everyone except Eddie and Bill took one.

"Someone's gotta be there to drive your drunk asses home," Eddie said when Richie asked him why he was being a pussy. Richie rolled his eyes and punched Eddie's arm.

"Lame."

"Responsible."

"Same thing."

"I can have plenty of fun without getting wasted, Richie."

"Yeah, but you can have even more fun if you do." Richie waggled his eyebrows suggestively, although what exactly he was suggesting wasn't immediately clear to anyone.

"Enough, Rich, just do what you want." Richie's shoulders sagged.

"Fine. Sorry."

"It's fine. Are we dancing or not?" Richie brightened at the mention of dancing. He was a deeply atrocious dancer, not that Eddie was much better, but he loved it in such a way that no amount of insults or protests could get him to stop once he started. Richie grabbed Eddie's arm in one hand and Ben's in his other, and dragged them towards the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the gym. He began to twist and bounce in a way that someone who had never witnessed Richie's dance moves might have thought he was having a seizure. Eddie swayed from side to side, occasionally moving his arms. Mike shook his head as he looked at them and the other three, none of whom were doing particularly well either.

"White people," he muttered. The band played one upbeat track after another, and the night faded into a blur of neon lights. At one point, Richie took Eddie by the hands and pulled him into a quick and messy two-step.

"You gotta loosen up, Eddie-Spaghetti!"

"I hate it when you call me that."

"No, you don't." No, he didn't.

Still, it was prom, and most people who go to prom bring dates, so it wasn't long before the band played a slow song, specifically dedicated to all the lovebirds out there. The losers eyed each other for a moment, then broke down laughing, hardly able to drag themselves to a table in the corner.

"I need a smoke break." Richie pushed himself away from the table and patted his pocket, where he had presumably smuggled a carton of cigarettes. "Anyone care to join me?" His eyes flicked momentarily towards Eddie, although Eddie couldn't have smoked even if he wanted to.

"None of us smoke, Richie, why would we-"

"Sure. Why not? I've got nothing better to do." Eddie stood up, interrupting Ben.

"Cool. Cool." Richie smiled that little enigmatic smile of his, and he and Eddie left the gym, finding a place to sit outside the school's loading dock. Richie sat on a stack of crates and clumsily lit a cigarette. He turned his head up to the sky and blew out a long stream of smoke, almost silver against the black night sky. Eddie didn’t particularly like being around other people who were smoking, but when Richie did it... god, he was beautiful.

“So... is prom everything you thought it would be?” Richie asked, breaking the comfortable silence that settled between them.

”Let’s see. All my friends getting drunk? Check. Half-assed decorations? Check. The same ten songs on constant repeat? Check. Yeah, pretty much.” Richie chuckled.

”Prom’s not for people like us, y’know?”

”People like us?”

”Losers.” Richie didn’t mean it as an insult, it was what they called themselves, but it hurt nonetheless. “It’s for the shiny crowd, the people with the perfect hair and the perfect grades. The kids that are going to be presidents and movie stars. We’re not shiny like that, Eddie.” And then Richie smiled, but it was almost sad. “But who needs diamonds when you’ve got steel? That’s you and me, Eds. We’re not the coolest or the most interesting, but we’re tough. And that’s cool too.” Eddie was quiet for a moment.

”I mean, diamonds are the strongest substance in the world, but-“

”You’re ruining my metaphor.”

”-but I get the point you’re making. And honestly, I have to say, that was kinda poetic for a boy whose nickname is Trashmouth.”

"Beep-beep, Eds." Eddie sighed.

"Yeah. I know. And you're right. But..." Richie's head perked up. "What if we could make it for people like us?" Richie narrowed his eyes.

"What the hell do you mean?" Eddie leaned over and whispered in Richie's ear so quietly Richie hardly caught it. "Are you serious?" Eddie nodded, his eyes wide with excitement.

"You in?" Richie considered for a moment, then dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his foot.

"Hell yeah. Let's do it."

Back in the gym, the music was once again pumping. Their friends had disappeared from the table, with no evidence that they'd been there except Mike's suit coat draped over the back of a chair and a pile of crumbs where Ben had been sitting. Richie and Eddie shared another look and burst out laughing.

"Come on! We gotta go!" Richie hissed, and took Eddie by the hand, pulling him for something like the fifth time along behind him. They ran through the gym, laughing like maniacs, their legs pumping like the end of the world, until Richie tripped and took Eddie down with him. They hit the floor hard, and Eddie felt the arm he'd broken once upon a time twinge underneath his body. He used his other arm to push himself up, and his heart stopped when he saw Henry Bowers bearing down on them, accompanied by two of his new goons (the old ones were either dead or had graduated- having been held back a year had not been good to Henry Bowers).

"Going somewhere, faggots?" He snickered loudly as Richie brushed himself off and got to his feet.

"Fuck off, Bowers. Just for one night." He offered a hand to Eddie, which he took gratefully.

"You going to find a place to fuck?" Richie's jaw clenched, but he held his tongue. Eddie was also grateful for that.

"Just leave us alone, would you?" Eddie pleaded, but Bowers ignored him.

"So is Wheezy your boyfriend now, Trashmouth?" They were loud now, and more and more people were turning to look at them. Not, unfortunately, any of the chaperones, who seemed more focused on people from literally having sex on the dance floor. "You suck his dick? Huh? Or is he more the submissive type?" Richie was growing angrier by the minute. Eddie wasn't sure he'd ever seen Richie more pissed off in his life.

"Shut your mouth, Bowers."

"Or what? Actually, maybe I should. I don't want you getting the wrong idea." Now he was right in Richie's face. "Some of us don't swing that way, Trashmouth. But I'll tell you what- I'll be quiet if your boyfriend here," he said, acknowledging Eddie for the first time, "admits that he's a queer." And that was when Richie punched Henry Bowers. They were in close quarters, so it wasn't a particularly good punch, but it shocked the hell out of Bowers so bad that he stumbled back a few steps, clutching his nose, which Richie had managed to make bleed.

"Oh, you're dead, Tozier. DEAD!" He screeched and lunged at Richie, nailing three rapid-fire hits to Richie's left cheekbone. His father's class ring, which he had taken after killing him, left deep cuts in the freckled skin of Richie's face. He had Richie by the collar now, and was winding up for an apocalyptic uppercut when Mrs. Davies, one of the chaperones and Eddie's new personal hero, took notice of the fight.

"Mr. Bowers!" She bellowed, storming towards the crowd that had gathered around them. "Unless you want to be held back again, you will put him down!" Henry looked back and forth between Mrs. Davies and Richie, whose bleeding face was already beginning to bruise. Finally, he released Richie with a sneer, shoving him to the ground and retreating out the front doors of the gym, trailed by his thugs.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy-" Eddie knelt next to Richie and held his face in his hands. "Motherfucker. We gotta get you fixed up, and the next time I see Henry Bowers, I swear to god I'll-

"Shut the fuck up, Eddie. Let's get out of here." Richie got to his feet, and he and Eddie pushed through the people, ignoring the quizzical stares and curious glances their friends and strangers alike gave them.

The nurse's office was next door to the gym. Richie tried the door handle. Locked. He turned to leave, but Eddie stopped him, fumbling in his pocket for something.

"A-ha!" He exclaimed, and pulled out his key ring. He tried a couple different ones, to no avail. Finally, he found a key that fit in the lock and turned it. Richie heard the soft thunk of the lock sliding into place.

"You have your own key to the nurse's office?" Eddie shrugged.

"I get sick a lot. Eventually, the nurse just decided that I should be able to get in on my own so she wouldn't have to come every time I came in. Which was a lot. Also, my mom kinda demanded it."

"That checks out." Eddie hit the lights and Richie took a seat on one of the counters.

"So, what the hell was that about?" Eddie asked as he dug through the cabinets, collecting supplies.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Bowers has basically called us queers every day for the last ten years. So why'd you pick today to punch him and get the hell beaten out of you?"

"Why? Do you think I shouldn't have?"

"I mean, it was very badass, I'll give you that. Up until the bit where he almost killed you."

"You're exaggerating, Eds."

"Don't call me that." Eddie sat down on the swiveling stool in front of Richie and poured some rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball. "This is gonna hurt." He dabbed gently at the series of cuts on Richie's cheek. Richie's knuckles went white as he clutched the counter, but he didn't so much as whimper. "I just don't get it."

"I don't know, Eddie, I'm drunk, he was being a douchebag, I decided to be a moron. Isn't that what always happens?" Eddie didn't respond as he pressed a few butterfly bandages onto the wound. "He went after you." Richie said softly.

"Huh?"

"He went after you. I was cool until he started picking on you."

"Richie, Henry Bowers has called me a queer and a faggot and every other name in the book almost every day since he learned those words. I don't get why that upset you so much."

"I mean, are... are you? Queer, I mean?" Eddie studied Richie silently. He was being serious, for sure, but Eddie had never been asked that question before. Not even by Bowers.

"Does it matter?" He asked after what seemed like hours. "Would you still be my friend?" Richie smiled, a different kind of smile than Eddie had ever seen. It wasn't sad, but it was sincere. And there was something else in it, something Eddie had only seen almost five years previous, in the way Ben had looked at Beverly.

"I'll never stop being your friend, Eddie." Richie's voice cracked, but his eyes were clear as he took Eddie's hand and squeezed, a gesture that was familiar among the group of friends that had become a family.

"Good." Eddie held up an towel filled with ice from the freezer. "Hold this on your face. It'll keep the swelling down." He hadn't, at any point, actually answered the question.

An hour later, the two of them returned to the gym. Bowers was gone, and most everyone had gone back to dancing like nothing had happened. Eddie noticed a few drops of Richie's- or maybe it was Henry's- blood on the gym floor. Their friends were sitting dejectedly around the table in the back corner, but they all sat up when they saw Richie and Eddie approaching.

"Are you okay?" Ben asked.

"Yeah, fine. What are you losers doing?" Richie was back to his usual self, Eddie noted.

"I mean, you getting the shit beaten out of yourself kind of dampened the mood," Stan said in his usual deadpan tone.

"Lame. I'm fine, guys." Still, Richie sat. Eddie took the seat next to him, and they all sat in gloomy silence.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" Mrs. Davies's voice carried over the band, which went out with a jerk. Little by little, a silence settled over the assembled students. "I have here in my hand-" she gestured with a manila envelope covered in glitter, "-the results of your votes for prom queen and king!" A cheer went up, then the room was silent again. Mrs. Davies cleared her throat. "Your Derry High School prom king and queen are... Greta Keene..." Greta tossed her hair over her shoulder as she smiled and waved from the stage. Mrs. Davies placed a delicate plastic tiara on her head. "And..." she looked at the paper quizzically, but seemed to decide that it was legitimate. "...Bill Denbrough." It was so quiet in the room you could hear a pin drop. Literally. A pin dropped off Mrs. Davies's dress and it was fully audible. Then Ben started clapping, loudly and enthusiastically, his pudgy hands creating a sound that was almost deafening in the gym. And then Stan joined him, and Mike, and Richie, and Eddie. Ben rose hesitantly to his feet, but fueled by the cheers of his friends (and only his friends, everyone else stood in stunned silence), he approached the stage and allowed Mrs. Davies to place the crown haphazardly on his head. He smiled awkwardly for a moment, then jumped down and hurried back to where his friends were still cheering.

"What j-just happened?" He asked, more confused than anything.

"What do you mean?" Richie asked, and took a conspicuous sip of his drink. "Nothing happened. Eddie and I certainly didn't break into the ballot box and switch the votes." He and Eddie shared a furtive glance.

"Are you serious? Do you know how much trouble you could get in?" Stan asked, but he was grinning.

"Y-you guys are th-th-the best."

"No shit. Now, can we get back to dancing, please? I'm getting a little bored, and Mr. Prom King over here oughta show his face on the dance floor at least once."

The rest of the dance passed in a blur of moments so odd, Eddie thought maybe he'd dreamed them. Stan rode on top of Ben's shoulders and poured drinks into his mouth from nearly three feet away without spilling a drop. Richie stole Bill's crown and spoke in a cockney accent for several minutes. He and Mike ended up in the DJ booth, and Eddie had to say that he looked right at home. However, like all parties of its kind, it burned out around eleven, and the Losers said their goodbyes. Bill, being the only other sober person there, offered to take Stan, Mike, and Ben home, if Stan would let him sleep on his couch, which he would. That just left Eddie and Richie. Eddie felt oddly apprehensive about driving Richie home, although he'd done it a hundred times.

"You're really quiet," Richie said, about a minute in, his words not fully slurred, but still obvious that he was far from sober.

"Just tired." Eddie never moved his eyes from the road.

"Is this about what I asked you earlier? Because I was stupid and wasted and I think Bowers gave me brain damage."

"Don't joke about that."

"Look, don't worry about it, Eds."

"Don't call me that!"

"Fine, fine." Richie slumped down in his seat and pouted. "We did the right thing with Bill, right?" Eddie considered momentarily.

"Yeah, I think we did. I think we proved that it's not just shiny people who can have fun at prom."

"Huh?"

"Never mind." Eddie flipped on the radio. Richie sang along, even less in tune than he had been earlier.

"Workin' on our night moves... trying to lose the..." he trailed off as he forgot the words.

"Awkward teenage blues," Eddie finished, his voice high and clear.

"Yeah. That's it." Eddie pulled into Richie's driveway. The house was dark. "You know, your mom'll kill you if she finds out you got drunk." Richie didn't respond, and when Eddie turned to look at him, he leaned forward and kissed Eddie. It wasn't a good kiss. It was sloppy and drunk and Richie's lips tasted like smoke and booze and sweat. But even so, Eddie didn't break the kiss. He didn't lean into it, either, but he didn't move to stop it. "Uh... sorry." Richie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That was dumb." He cracked a smile, but Eddie just stared at him, dumbfounded. "Really fucking stupid."

"No." It took Eddie a moment to realize that it was himself that had spoken. "Not stupid."

"Not... stupid?"

"Well... maybe a little." Richie smiled for real now.

"I'll see you, Eddie." Richie unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door.

"Wait!" Eddie grabbed Richie's arm. "Do you... maybe... want to... dance?" Richie stared at him.

"Yeah. That sound nice." Eddie cranked the radio louder. It was Springsteen's "If I Should Fall Behind". Eddie took one of Richie's hands in his, and ever so softly placed the other one on Richie's shoulder. Richie's other hand slid around the small of his back. They swayed awkwardly in the headlights, their feet scuffling on the concrete of Richie's driveway, Bill's crown still glinting on Richie's head. When the song was finished, Eddie kissed Richie's cheek and got back in the car. He drove home and went to bed, and they never spoke of that night again. But years later, when Richie and Derry and senior prom were long forgotten, whenever Eddie heard Springsteen's voice singing that song, he felt a twinge in his arm that had been broken once upon a time, and he had a vague and blurry memory of a dance and a clear, starry sky.

[mysweetestcreature]

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 6: Better in Time

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

***

Masterlist

***

Saturday, October 24, 2008

In most cases, Harry likes having a well thought-out plan before he charges into any battle. All his life that’s what he’d been accustomed to doing. In football, they always have a game plan with all the plays they’ll need to defeat the opposing team. During debates, he’s always ready with the fact to back up his arguments to make his position all the more convincing to the judges. Even when buying gifts for his family, he always does his share of research to see what things they’re into and where to buy those particular things.

However, if this last month has taught him anything –– even if he’s still completely suffering on the inside –– it’s that sometimes spontaneous decisions may be the only way to get the job done. All he had really wanted was to tell her that he likes her –– so, so much –– and then ask her out on a proper date and maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll get to finally kiss her like he’d wanted to on that fateful Friday afternoon. But like he’s said before, he’s not that lucky. 

That’s probably why he’s found himself outside her house at ten in the morning on a chilly Saturday at the end of October. He’d woken up after only about three hours of actual sleep only to have the conversation with Cici replay unapologetically in between his ears. If everything had been confusing before, now it’s top to the bottom beyond his wits. Without much preparation –– all he did was step under the shower head for a quick hose down –– he had gotten on his bike, not even answering Anne’s question if he wanted any breakfast (which may have been his first mistake today) before running into the garage and speeding off. 

Now, it’s not like the events that had brought him to this very spot were completely out of the blue. In fact, he would say everything that’s happened in the last month has forced him here as though it were the only possible outcome. 

As Harry holds his finger up to the doorbell, no plan, no intelligible thoughts to pass on, and no feeling other than this annoying churn deep in the pits of his stomach, he hopes at least something positive (for a refreshing change, just to spice it up a little) will come out of what he’s about to embark on. He takes in a deep breath with the cold air swirling in his nose and pinching at his sinuses and fully waking him up, before he presses down firmly on the button.   

The ringing of the bell makes his position all the more real. Despite the nippy weather, he suddenly feels heated wrapped in his varsity, a bead of sweat dragging down the curve of his spine and leaving goosebumps behind in its path. Almost immediately, he hears footsteps sounding from inside the house getting louder and louder before they come to a halt just on the other side. “Mason, I said no cookies until after lunch!” A voice yells out, and at that moment, maybe he should have at the very least anticipated who would be home instead of coming in completely blinded by lightning. 

The door opens, revealing a man with thick black-rimmed glasses falling down the center of his nose. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Uh...” Harry can feel the blood drain from his face as he comes face to face with a man he recognizes from the pictures in her locker. “I um...” he swallows hard. “I was, uh, wondering if I could...um...talk to...Y/n?” 

The man tilts his head back just a bit, examining him with narrowed eyes. It’s not that he looks intimidating, actually, he looks like he’d be quite the opposite (just don’t tell him he thought that), but Harry doesn’t think he’s ever felt more self-conscious in his life, and he’s spoken in front of at least a hundred people at once. 

“What’s your name, son?” He pushes up on the bridge of his glasses before crossing his arms tightly over his chest. 

Before Harry can answer, another pair of footsteps, this time much gentler than the ones before, soon races towards him. 

“Harry!” Mason runs past his father and latches onto Harry’s leg. “I can’t believe you’re here!” he squeals. The little boy stares up at him with wide exuberant eyes and a smile just as cute to match. “I told Y/n that I missed you, but she said you were probably busy, so you couldn’t come over,” he says with a protruding pout, but it’s soon washed away in his joyous excitement. “But now you’re here! We can eat all of Y/n’s peanut butter chocolate chip cookies together! They’re my favoritest!”

Harry looks back up, Y/n’s dad wears a mild scowl across his face. Yikes. If only their dad was as easy to talk to as the little boy. But Harry’s just happy that at least one familiar face –– even if he is a little kid more than half his age –– is here to raise his morale just the tiniest amount. “That’s odd,” he contemplates, bending down to his knees. “I thought your favoritest was her Neapolitan cupcakes?” 

Mason nods his head. “They’re my other favoritest,” he explains as though it were the most basic fact, the most simplest of logic. “I have a lot of favoritests, Harry.” 

“Oh yeah?” he plays along, pretending to be completely shocked.

“Yeah!” He turns to his father. “Right, Daddy?” 

The older man suddenly transforms into a more tender version of himself before Harry’s eyes. For a quick moment, Harry sees someone familiar in the expression on his face. Looking down fondly at his son, he smiles. “You sure do, kiddo. And it drives your mom and me up the walls.” 

“I told you!” Mason says knowingly as he turns back. “Now come on! Or else the cookies are gonna get cold! And they taste bestest when they’re warm!” He grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him inside. All Harry can do is send Mr. Y/l/n an apologetic look as he sheepishly allows himself to be guided through the house without his permission. 

The smell of melted chocolate soon becomes prominent, and it’s enough to make Harry’s mouth salivate and his empty stomach growl with desperation. As Mason leads him under the arch that connects the dining room to the kitchen, he hears a low hum of a song he knows all too well, one that he’s heard her sing over a thousand times since meeting her. 

“Y/n! Look who Daddy found outside!” Mason exclaims. 

His sister looks up from her mixing bowl, only to drop the wooden spoon in her hand to the floor. “I-” Her eyebrows furrow together as she stares at him in bewilderment. “Harry? What are...what are you doing here?” 

Harry runs the side of his finger across the tip of his nose twice over, trying to hide the red as it creeps up to his cheeks from the base of his neck. “I actually came here to talk to...you.” He isn’t sure why the last word had come out with a delay, but there’s no use worrying about it now. 

“And it couldn’t wait until Monday?” she asks, still completely perplexed.

“Yeah, Harry. It couldn’t wait until Monday?” Her father interjects, strutting into the room. He stands directly in front of Harry, then circles around him as though scanning him for a disease. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” he begins. “I’m Jeremy, but you can call me ‘sir.’” 

***

It may have taken a while, but Harry is finally able to get her alone. After being grilled about his life story by Jeremy –– from where he was born to where his paternal great grandfather went to university to what his credit score is (Harry doesn’t even know what that means) –– and eating his weight in cookies with Mason (which really wasn’t all that bad), Y/n had excused the both of them, letting her dad know that they would just be taking a walk around the block. 

Despite Jeremy’s disapproving demeanor, he waved them off, closing the door behind them, but not until sending one last glare in Harry’s direction. Mason, on the other hand, had begged for Y/n to take him with them. “But I want to hang out with you and Harry! Daddy is boring!” he had cried as she put on her sneakers. Harry’s pretty sure Jeremy wasn’t too pleased with that last part.

The air feels a lot colder than it did just an hour and a half ago, or maybe it’s just that Harry isn’t the sweaty fool he had once been when he had arrived. This is nice, he supposes. At least there’s no way he can screw this up, but who knows with the way things have been going recently. 

“I can’t believe you rode your bike all the way here,” she snorts. “You could have just texted.”

“Yeah, well,” he laughs, hands buried deep within his pockets and shoulders shrugging upward. He knows all too well that he most likely would never get a response, or if he were to get one, it would be short and to the point. Yesterday he’d asked her about the homework that Señora Gustavo had assigned, which she had promptly answered back. When it came to his follow-up question, a friendly “what are your plans for the weekend?” message, he received nothing in return. 

His eyes are trained ahead, but he still manages to get a glimpse at her in his peripheral vision. “I just really had to see you.” He doesn’t miss the way her lips twitch up just as she looks down to her feet. She tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear, then runs her hands up and down her arms. A part of him debates what to do, if he should overstep himself just this one time. After all, it would be for a good reason, right? 

Before either one of them can proceed to say anything more, Harry stops and slips his varsity jacket from his shoulders. His lips lightly pursing together as he holds it open in front of her. “You look like you need it more than I do.” Y/n switches between him and the fabric hanging from his hands. “You really don’t have to. I can manage-”

“Y/n,” he interrupts. “Just take it.” A close-mouthed smile appears across his face, his dimples only peeking out just barely. “Here,” and he steps behind her, carefully placing it over the thin material of her long sleeve shirt with the faces of the young Beatles on the front. He remains stiff until the jacket settles around her, and he’s finally able to let out the breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding. 

The jacket feels heavy on her body, while still radiating the heat from his body on the inside. A faint aroma of vanilla with a slightly more masculine undertone rises to her nose, and for some reason, it makes her feel oddly at ease and brings this sensation of security down into her bones. “Thanks,” she mumbles, pulling the linings inward for an added layer of warmth. 

He doesn’t answer, her image taking him aback more than he had ever anticipated. Because damn, it’s something he wishes he could get used to seeing. “Uh,” it erupts from the back of his throat like a frightful belch. “Of course.” 

They continue forward, occasionally knocking elbows. This is nice, Harry says to himself. 

“It looks good on you.” 

She peers up. “You think so?” 

“Could never lie to you,” he says earnestly. His own words manage to make him somewhat contemplative, and he guesses that is the reason he’s here in the first place. “Which is actually why I need you to know that...” he starts off slowly, while his footsteps noticeably star to slow down. He looks into her eyes as they stare back anxiously into his. There’s something perceptive in her expression, as though she’s anticipating the worst to come out of his mouth. “I’m not into Zoey.” 

“Oh...” her voice is nearly inaudible as she breaks eye contact. She looks ahead of them, choosing to watch as elderly woman a few houses down water her perennials. “That’s...wow.”

“I just didn’t want you think that we were together or anything. Because we’re not! And I wanted to make that totally clear.” 

“So that kiss...”

“Meant nothing.”

It takes a minute, but as his words sink, the burden she had once lifted in her chest seems to have dissipated. She nods slowly, walking ahead of him, leaving Harry without an answer. A grin slowly appears and rounds the apples of her cheeks, but she would rather him not see that just yet. Once she’s controlled herself, she gives him a look over her shoulder. “Are you coming? There’s a diner a few miles down and you said your treat.”

***

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Things seem to be getting back on track, at least that’s what Y/n likes to think. Sure, sometimes an awkward silence may fall between them every now and again, but the good moments –– them just talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company as though nothing in the last month had ever happened –– have outweighed all other not-so-pleasnt occasions. 

She’s so thankful, too. Had whatever was happening with her and Harry continued, Y/n is sure she would have gone crazy within the next week, tops! And that’s not just because she shares three classes and few free periods with him –– although, she’ll be the first to say that avoiding someone she sits next to was a particularly trying and tiring challenge –– but because in Harry’s time since starting Ashwood Prep, her best friends have become his best friends. Take Maxxie, for instance, she could never make him choose between the two of them! He’s always had a harder time relating to a lot of the guys in their year, but with Harry it was like an instant connection. They’re practically brothers now, and she couldn’t be happier for him. The best part is that she doesn’t have to pretend to know what he’s talking about when he rehearses for his debates now that Harry is there to do it with him. Even Cici has taken a liking to Harry, and Cici doesn’t like many people (she prefers a close circle of friends, while the rest are mere acquaintances that she has to be forced to socialize with on exclusive occasions).

Y/n can honestly say that she’s pleased with how things are going right now. No longer present is the feeling that used to bite at her insides like a no-good virus. It used to insert itself into her thoughts, even when she was trying her hardest to focus on other things. Now, she feels the weight of the last few weeks finally lifted off her shoulders, and she really can’t complain about much else.  

There is a minor issue that she does have to frequently remind herself of, however. It might as well be the most important lesson she had learned from all this. She has to remind herself not to fall, or at least not as hard as before (she’s still human, after all). The best thing she can do for herself and for her friendship with Harry, for the matter, is to take each day one step at a time. At least that way, feelings can be spared and drama can be saved for more serious events. If only that weren’t just wishful thinking on her part.

“Fine.” She shrugs into her shoulder, trying her best to hide the giddy smile that manages to round the apples of her cheeks. He looks at her with the toothiest grin, the indents of his dimples becoming more and more defined. And gosh, does he look so cute right now. It’s like she’s back to where she started, and that flutter beneath her chest is still just as strong as ever, if not more. “Now get out of here! The last thing we want is for Coach Davis to go on a manhunt.” Harry hops off the stool and grabs his duffle bag. “Right here, yeah? Promise you won’t leave without me?” 

“I swear, you’re so annoying!” she giggles, pushing him towards the door. “Go!” “Hey!” he whines, making himself heavier by leaning back and letting his weight slow her down. She huffs, her arms no match for him as they try to hold him up. “You gotta promise me first, or else I’ll just wait here until lunch.” 

She rolls her eyes, jaw slacking to the side. “I promise I’ll be right here,” she assures him. He turns to her, still a bit unconvinced. She raises her hand to the height of her face, her pinkie finger pointing towards him. “Here’s my promise.” A twinkle sparks in Harry’s green irises. He chuckles softly, then intertwines his pinkie with hers. They remain that way for a while longer, both just alternating their gaze to where they’re adjoined and then back into each other’s eyes. Y/n is the first to speak up. “Okay, so get your butt to the weight room!” And she drops her hand back to her side. 

He does the same, but the smile remains firmly embedded. “Alright,” he blushes mildly, “I’ll see you in a bit.” He sends her a wink before making a sprint for the exit. 

Within the next fifteen minutes, she’s able to whisk together both her wet and dry ingredients, all while multitasking with her Algebra homework that she’s sure she won’t want to do later. As she starts folding the mixture (she’s sure to be extra careful this time since she may have overdone it the last), her ears tingle when the kitchen door opens up. 

She sniggers to herself before turning around. “Harry, I told you that-” she pauses when she sees that it’s not him. “Oh! You’re not...Sorry, about that,” she chuckles nervously.

“Sorry, were you expecting...”  the boy says.

“It’s nothing,” she shakes her head. “I just thought you were my friend for a second there.”

The boy studies his surroundings as he approaches, even stopping to peek at a cake that Miss Genevra had designed herself this morning. He runs the tips of his fingers along the cold metal surface of the table. 

“This might be really forward, but I was wondering if you could help me with something?” he speaks up, adjusting his beanie over his dark hair. He looks up at her with the deepest chocolate brown eyes she’s ever seen, and yet, the longer she stares, the more hidden depth of color she discovers. 

“Uh...sure,” she replies unsurely, wiping her hands on the front of her apron. She thinks she might recognize him as being a year ahead of her. What was his name? 

“I’m Jasper, by the way,” he says, as though reading her thoughts. He peeks over the top of the bowl in front of her. “What’re you making?”

“Y/n,” she returns. “And macarons.” She gestures towards her supplies. “So, what did you need help with?” 

“This is probably going to make me sound like an awful son,” he chuckles lightly, shaking his head, “but I was in charge of getting a cake for my mom’s birthday, and well...I sort of...okay, definitely...fucked up.” The tan skin of his face scrunches in self-disgust. “There’s no bakery within thirty miles that’ll accept a custom order on such short notice and her birthday is tomorrow and my dad’s already on edge as it is, and I really don’t think I can handle that and I heard from a bunch of people that you’re a good baker and I actually just tried one of your cupcakes earlier, so I just thought I’d try to...” he quickly becomes winded after having said it all in one breath. 

She can’t help but giggle at the poor boy. “Okay!”’ she says, patting him gently on the side of his arm. “Just tell me her favorite cake flavors.” 

Jasper gives her a blank look, mouth completely hung open. 

“You don’t know, do you?” 

He timidly looks down to the floor. “I am a bad son, aren’t I?” 

“I wouldn’t use those exact words,” she smiles.  

***

He knows he probably should have taken the workout seriously, but who can blame him? She’s finally talking to him willingly again, and he’s just so excited because maybe now things can progress the way he wants them to. With Zoey hopefully all the way out of the picture (she had given him one hell of a nasty look this morning), he’s feeling the confidence starting to make its way back into his system and energize each one of his nerves. 

Coach Davis yells after him as he dashes out the weight room with a measly parting and the assurance that he’ll bring his A-game to practice later today. He stops in front of the reflective glass outside the principal’s office, fixing his hair, and adjusting the collar over his sweater until it’s near perfection. 

“Harry!” He sees a reflection of Maxxie’s figure drawing closer. “You on your way to lunch?”

“I’ll be there in like three minutes,” he says, giving himself one last look over before turning around. “I just have to pick up Y/n from Home Ec.” 

Maxxie’s brow cocks up. “Oh?” 

Harry takes long strides towards the kitchen. “Save us a seat, yeah? We’ll just be a few!”

When the curly-haired boy disappears around the corner, Maxxie pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

To: Cici

        You’re good, I’ll give you that.

From: Cici

        You should learn never to doubt me.

***

“Alright, I got Maxxie to save us some seats. Are you ready to-” he stops mid-sentence. There’s a boy right next to her, positioned a little too close for his liking. He watches as they hover over Y/n’s notebook, just laughing to themselves. The boy with the beanie gives her a look that Harry wishes he could wipe away because for some reason he feels himself becoming more and more annoyed. Harry’s tongue pokes against the inside of his cheek as a foreign feeling erupts within him like hot lava.

Y/n perks up, instantly smiling when she sees him in the doorway. “Hey! I was just finishing up,” she says. She turns back to the boy. “Okay, so chocolate cake with mocha whipped cream icing, right? Come by after school tomorrow, it should be ready by then.”  

“You’re an angel,” he tells her. “You literally just saved my ass, big time.” 

“It’s nothing,” she says softly as she closes her notebook and caps her pen. “Three o’clock tomorrow.” She gives him a pointed look. “Don’t be late.” 

“It’s a date.”

Harry’s eye might have just twitched a little too violently.

***

[bbloomjoon]

BTS seeing you for the first time

Jin

As soon as a smile had appeared on Jin’s face, the other boys were already groaning at the upcoming joke that Jin was about to tell them. They just wanted a nice walk through town, not bad dad jokes.

“How do you make,” Jin cut himself off when he started laughing. The other members gave each other looks as Jin continued to laugh. He quieted himself down before continuing, “How do you make an octopus laugh?” He waited for a few seconds, giving the uninterested boys time to anticipate the answer. “With ten-tickles.” He erupted in laughter again, almost doubling over due to his intense laughing. The others rolled their eyes, some grumbling about how lame the joke was.

Jin, deep down in his heart, wasn’t expecting laughter from anybody else- the others had gotten too used to his jokes. But behind him came more laughing. He turned around to see who it was that was laughing along with him.

You weren’t trying to walk so close to the people in front of you and you definitely weren’t trying to listen in on their conversation. But you overheard one of them tell a joke- a very bad yet corny joke- and you couldn’t hold in your laughter. You were still laughing when the jokester turned around, too busy laughing to notice.

Jin doesn’t want to say that the world stopped spinning when he saw you, but he definitely felt the world stop. Your smile was captivating and he found it hard to look away. And your laugh, oh your laugh. Jin wanted to listen to it for hours and never grow tired of it. He thought you were stunning and he wanted to make you laugh more.

Your laughter calmed down and you wiped the tears from your eyes, finally looking at who was in front of you. You gave him a smile, silently thanking him for telling that joke. Jin smiled back at you before speaking again, “Why did the crab not want to share? Because he was shellfish.” His heart skipped a beat when he saw your smile get bigger, knowing that he was going to be pulling out all of his jokes on you.

Yoongi

He hated crowded places, he really did. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t find inspiration in them sometimes.

Yoongi tapped his pen against the table he was sitting at in irritation. He’s been in this loud coffee shop for almost two hours and nothing has come to him. All he has is an empty coffee cup and blank paper staring back at him. He stood up to leave but stopped when the bell on the door rang. He looked towards the noise and almost did a double take when he saw you walk in.

You walked to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee, smiling at the barista as you handed him the money for your drink before sitting down at a table. You took a sip from your cup and looked around, your eyes meeting with the handsome stranger across the shop. You smiled at him and waved, laughing softly when he blushed and looked away from you.

Yoongi sat back down, his face burning. He sneaked another look at you, watching the way you sipped at your coffee while you stared out the window. You were still smiling as you tapped your fingers to an unheard tune. The light from the window made your eyes shine bright, brighter than anything Yoongi had seen before.

You caught his gaze again, smile getting bigger. He was about to look away from you until he saw you move the chair across from you. You pushed it out a few inches with your foot, you gaze flicking between the chair and his eyes. You stared at hm for a few more seconds before turning back to the window.

You wanted him to sit with you.

Yoongi looked at his blank paper and weighed his options. He could either ignore his work and sit with you or he could leave the shop now and finally get some lyrics written.

Yoongi gathered all of his things and made his way over to your table. He cleared his throat, gaining your attention immediately, “Is this seat taken?”

“No, it’s all your if you want it,” You watched as he sat down across from you and held your hand out for him, “My name is Y/n.”

He shook your hand, holding onto it for a few more seconds before letting it go, “Yoongi.”

“Yoongi,” You whispered out, testing the name on your tongue. You gave him another smile, “Nice to meet you, Yoongi.”

Maybe he found the inspiration he was looking for after all.

Hoseok

The library was usually filled with people, but Hoseok was relieved to see that the library was almost empty when he walked in. He pulled his face mask off and put it on his bag, no longer feeling the need for it with so little people around. He greeted the librarian as he walked past the desk, giving her a bright smile before making his way to the shelves. He weaved through the different shelves, picking up whichever book caught his eye.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed someone enter the shelves, moving until they were basically standing next to him. He assumed it was a fan that had saw him walk in and had to stop himself from sighing as he waited for the fan to begin speaking. Instead of speaking, he watched the fan reach up the shelf, their fingers grazing over the spine of a book. He heard them huff, annoyed that the book was just out of their reach.

“Excuse me,” Your voice called out to him. He turned to look at you and felt his grip on his books loosen. You were absolutely stunning. You smiled at him before continuing, “Could you help me reach that book, please?” You pointed up at the book you had just tried reaching. He nodded and grabbed the book you wanted. He handed it to you and watched as your smile got bigger, “Thank you so much!” You nodded your head to him in thanks before turning on your heel and leaving the shelves.

Hoseok, breaking out of his silent trance, left after you and looked around for you. He found you sitting at one of the library’s tables, book opened as your eyes skimmed through the pages. You looked so at peace as you read that he might have mistaken you as a statue if you hadn’t spoken to him mere seconds ago. You still had a smile on your face and Hoseok felt as if your smile outshined the sun.

He took in a breath and approached your table, setting his books down by the seat across from you. You looked up at the noise, relaxing when you noticed that it was him. He sat down in the chair and tapped his finger on the table in the space between the two of you, “What are you reading?”

Your eyes seemed to light up as you immediately began talking about the book in your hand and how it was your favorite. Hoseok rested his head in his hand, his own eyes softening as your voice filled his mind.

Namjoon

Everyone had been working hard the past few weeks, so when a day off came around everyone jumped at the chance for a small break.

Namjoon decided on spending his time by riding around town, more specifically the park that was just a few minutes away. He enjoyed riding along the trees, sunlight streaming through the leaves and leaving patterns on the ground. Next to him was a small river that ran through the park, the bubbling water creating noise to fill the silence as he rode. It was isolated in the park, a bit unusual for this time but nothing that Namjoon minded too bad.

He halted to a stop, allowing himself to rest a bit but also to adore the beauty of nature. His eyes trailed over the many trees and bushes that grew around him before he started following the movement of the water upstream. His eyes landed on a figure standing next to the river about twenty feet in front of him. He quickly noticed that it was someone throwing bread in the river for the ducks surrounding them.

You picked off pieces from the bread in your hands and tossed it out for the ducks. You giggled at them as they launched themselves towards the bread, their beaks making the water splash as they ate. You tossed more bread out for them, smile falling from your face when you noticed that one duck in the back didn’t get any bread. You broke off a good size piece for him and stepped forward, leaning over and reaching out to the duck. You were still too far away from him. You leaned down some more and shuffled closer to the edge of the river. A gasp left your lips as you slipped and fell into the river head first.

Namjoon, who was watching you feed the ducks, dropped his bike and ran over to where you had fallen. The river wasn’t deep so he wasn’t scared you would drown, but he did want to help you out and make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Are you okay?” He grabbed your arm and gently helped you out of the river. He ran his eyes over you, checking for any bruises or cuts.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Guess I lost my footing while trying to feed the ducks,” You laughed at your own foolishness. You moved a strand of wet hair from your face, looking up at the man who helped you, “Thank you.”

Namjoon was going to answer back but felt his words get caught in his throat. Even with your clothes soaking wet and leaves stuck in your equally wet hair, he thought you were gorgeous. You smiled at him and he snapped out of his daze, “Oh, you’re welcome.” He looked at your wet clothes, “Here,” He took his jacket off and put it around your shoulders. “Let me take you to get some new clothes.”

“Oh, no!” You shook your head, “I can’t let you do that!”

He smiled, “I insist. Besides, I wouldn’t let anyone walk around in soaking clothes, especially not a pretty girl like you.”

Jimin

Jungkook wanted to go shopping and decided that it would be a wonderful idea to drag along Jimin and Taehyung with him. Jimin yawned as they walked down the street, silently cursing Jungkook for waking him up from his nap to go shopping.

“Tired, hyung?” Jungkook smirked at him, knowing full well that Jimin was slightly upset with him. Jimin didn’t respond to him. Instead, he reached up and pinched Jungkook’s neck, laughing when Jungkook cried out in faux pain.

As they continued their shopping trip, their eyes caught the sight of street performers. They were just starting to play music and they already had a good-sized crowd. Jungkook nudged Jimin to the middle of the clearing, “Dance, hyung!” Jimin glared at him before a smile broke out on his face a split second later. As he began to dance, he heard the crowd cheer for him, the smile on his face getting bigger. It reminded him of being on stage and made him want to do his best for those watching him. He started pulling out his best dance moves, happy when the crowd began cheering louder.

All of a sudden, the cheers from the crowd began to reach roaring volumes, startling Jimin. He turned around to face the crowd when he saw you. You had approached the clearing and were dancing, laughing softly at the cheering the crowd was giving you. Jimin watched as you dance, your movements elegant as you let the music guide you. You turned around, meeting Jimin’s eyes, and made your way over to him. You grabbed his hands and began to dance with him, smiling up at him as you lead him in the dance. Jimin smiled back at you and matched his movements with yours. His hands left your own and settled on your hips, giving them a quick squeeze before resuming the dance. You raised a brow at him, laughing when he wiggled his brows at you.

The music died down and Jimin pulled you closer to him, ending the dance between the two of you. The crowd cheered louder at your ending move, clapping and whistling coming from the crowd as well. You panted as you tried to catch your breath, staring into Jimin’s eyes. He mirrored your actions while still smiling at you. He licked his lips, “You’re a pretty good dancer. Think you could teach me some of your moves?”

Taehyung

“Ride, ride, ride, ride, ride!” All of the boys chanted as the waited for the roller coaster. All of them except Hoseok, who was grumbling about being forced to ride.

As soon as the gates opened, they rushed forward to get in their seat.

Four rows, two to a row, seven boys, and one spot left open. The roller coaster’s attendant frowned as he got to Taehyung, the unlucky one who was left with the empty seat beside him. The attendant turned to the other waiting guests, “Are there any single riders?”

Your hand shot up as you made your way to the front of the line, “Me.” The attendant opened the gate for you and helped you into your seat, lowering the bar and locking the two of you in the coaster’s car.

Taehyung was too busy yelling at the front car as he tried talking to Yoongi to even notice you entering the car beside him. The attendant spoke his words of caution for the ride, counted down from ten, and started the ride. The cars began moving and started their slow ascension up the lift hill. Taehyung smiled as the cars got closer and closer to the top before they stopped, pausing for a few seconds before shooting down the tracks. He laughed loudly as the wind whipped through his hair.

You screamed as the cars went down and grabbed the hand of the person beside you, squeezing it tightly as the ride got faster and faster. Taehyung glanced down at your hand and let go of the bar with his hand and held yours, allowing you to hold his hand correctly during your need for comfort. You squeezed his hand again when the ride went through a loop.

For the next five minutes, Taehyung’s hand served as a stress ball substitute. He didn’t mind at all- he was still able to enjoy the ride while you held on to his hand like it was your lifeline. You were still holding his hand when the ride came to a stop.

While he waited for the attendant to let them out of the ride, Taehyung glanced over at you to see how you were doing. Your eyes were shut tightly, eyebrows knit together. You peaked an eye open when you heard laughing from beside you. You opened your eyes and looked at Taehyung, slightly confused as to why he was laughing.

“So cute,” Taehyung looked from you to your hand that was still holding on to his.

You blushed and took your hand away from his, “Sorry. This ride was scarier than I thought.”

“I don’t mind.” The attendant came to your car and released the bar, allowing the two of you to exit the ride. You followed Taehyung to the exit, about to go your own way when he grabbed your hand again and pulled you back to him. You opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing but he beat you to it, “Do you want to hang out with me? You said you were a single rider, right? Do you want to join me for the rest of the day?” Taehyung smiled at you as he waited for your answer.

You smiled back at him, “Sure.” You felt him squeeze your hand and you squeezed his back.

Jungkook

“Are you excited to see me?” Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows at you, knowing that you couldn’t see them through the phone.

“Oh, yeah. I am so excited to see your stupid face.” You laughed as you heard him scoff in response to your sarcasm. “Just don’t forget to pick me up at the airport.”

“I think I’ll leave you behind and go get the new Mario game that came out.” He gave his phone a big grin, loving the way how he could practically hear you roll your eyes. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Don’t wait too long for me, nerd.” He didn’t give you the chance to yell out a worse nickname at him as he hung up on you. He jumped into his car and began his trip to the airport to pick you up.

You and Jungkook had known each other for about a year, but had never met each other. You two became friends one day when you beat him in a video game. He had sent you a message afterwards demanding a rematch to which you happily gave him. You quickly became friends with the boy who had trouble beating you but continued to demand rematches. Just playing video games together eventually lead to exchanging numbers and sending each other terrible memes all day. Jungkook had convinced you to fly out to see him in person, persuading you with free snacks your entire time with him.

Jungkook arrived at the airport, parked his car, and entered the airport’s arrival hall to look for you. He scanned the sea of people in the hall, being unable to spot you. He brought his hands up and cupped them around his mouth, “Nerd! Where are you!” The people around him glared at him for yelling loudly so early in the morning.

“Would you shut up? Stop talking before you lose your last braincell.” You tapped his on his shoulder. He turned around to face you, comeback disappearing from his mind as he saw you. The two of you had exchanged picture many times in the past, but it compares nothing to seeing you in person.

Your eyes held a mischievous look in them and your lips were pulled up in a smirk as you waited for him to speak his insults to you. You dropped your bag beside you and crossed your arms over your chest, “Did you finally decide to spare humanity by no longer spewing your nonsense, dork?”

Upon hearing your favorite nickname to call him, he pulled in you for a hug, loving the way you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him closer to you.

[newgeht]

Binding Ink

Uhm... So here’s a new chapter! I hope you all are enjoying the festivities of the holidays. (Or if you’re like me and choose to sit out, I wish you a good month of December) 

Chapter 3 : A Date Gone Awry  Summary: Everyone had a name forever embellished on their wrist. This was the name of their mortal enemy... at least it was supposed to be. AU  Characters: Lucy Heartifilia, Minerva Orlando, Gray Fullbuster, Cobra/Erik, Midnight, Lamy, Gajeel Redfox, Natsu Dragneel, Flare Corona Rating: T  Words: 6,832 AO3 | FFnet  1 | 2 

It had been almost a two weeks since the events of the beach. Fairy Tail was a place that thrived on gossip even if friendship was one of their highest values. Whispers of that day had been following Lucy around nonstop, and it didn’t seem like she could catch a break. All the kids in magic theory had been talking about was the binding enchantment.

She tapped her pencil anxiously against the chipped table top. This school needed some renovations, but what was it to her? She eyed the clock, waiting for the last bell to ring. She had to dodge Gray and Natsu, they had been around her all week.

Gray had been deemed as her personal bodyguard (by who, she didn’t know). And Erza was constantly surveying who she was socializing with. She was surprised how the red head managed to get so much information when she didn’t even attend the high school anymore. The requip mage had gotten a prestigious internship with the magic council and she had been in Era ever since.

Her social life was placed in isolation because of her best friends, and she couldn’t imagine what would happen if they stepped over the personal boundary. Sabertooth was five towns over, any possibility of an attack during school was impossible.

Though she was worried for Natsu, her best friend’s relationship didn’t seem too bright. Lucy had walked in on him arguing with Yukino over the phone. He was torn between two people, not like she wasn’t either. Gray was breathing down her neck during school and she couldn’t stop thinking about Minerva.

Whenever the dark-haired woman passed her thoughts, butterflies would arise in her stomach. Did she really have to fight such a suitable candidate?

Still tapping the desk, she could feel a buzzing in her pocket. Her ringtone ripping through the chaotic classroom. Everyone fell silent to the obnoxious Six Flags theme song, her face burning red. The silence was followed by an uproar of laughter, her teacher eyeing her with a tinkle of amusement. The bald haired man gestured to the door, letting her go if she choose.

Lucy held her head down as she left the classroom, the boys making jeering comments to her. She clutched the strap of her bag, the voice of Erik (or Cobra as he liked to call himself) ringing out above all the others. “Let the door hit your ass on the way out, Blondie. We know who’s been all over it.” His cackle was the last thing she heard before the door closed. That damned dragon slayer really knew how to press her buttons.

Shoving her hand into her pocket, she pulled her handheld lacrima out, silencing her silly ringtone. Without looking at the caller identification, she held the orb to her mouth. “This is Lucy,” she hoped it would sound cheerful, but Erik’s comment really hadn’t put her in the best mood.

“Sounds like you’re not happy,” the voice on the other end drawled. Lucy didn’t think it would be so easy to detect her annoyance. But she had an inkling of a feeling who she was talking to. A woman who was well aware of her power, unafraid to claw those who threatened her -Minerva. “I can make you feel ten times better.” She spoke with bravado, so sure of her words. And Lucy believed it.

Lucy didn't care how Minerva got her number, she just wanted to get out of school. “Then what do you have in mind?” She replied as smoothly as possible, but the words felt awkward on her tongue. Her palms began to perspire as she clutched the lacrima-com, waiting for Minerva's answer.

“It's a surprise. I'm waiting for you outside.” Minerva replied, the revving of an engine being heard through the phone.

Lucy peered out the window, Minerva straddling a motorcycle. She couldn't say what type it was, but it looked luxurious. It was black and sleek, the afternoon rays highlighting every edge. “I see…” Minerva held up her gloved hand, waving at her. “But I can't just ditch school.”

Minerva shifted, putting her helmet into her lap as she glanced at her wrist. “I don't see the harm in walking out early. You're already out of class. Just come down already.” She was fidgeting on her ride, becoming more curt as she went on.

Lolling over her options, going with Minerva didn’t seem so bad. It was better than making a bigger fool of herself; she still couldn’t believe that Erik would have the gall to say such a thing. But it was to be expected of the school’s juvenile delinquent. Huffing, she pulled her head from the window and headed down the empty hallway. “I’ll be down in about two minutes. If you don’t have two helmets, there’s no way I’m going.” She flipped the phone closed, her heeled boots clicking hastily against the cheap linoleum floors.

While walking through the front office, strange looks were directed toward her but nothing happened. Sure there was about ten minutes before school ended, but was it really so easy to ditch school? Lucy gripped her woven strap and pushed through the glass doors. A sly grin appeared on Minerva’s face as she held up two helmets.

One was a stark black, tinted with violet as the light hit it. The other one was white, shimmering with golden sparkles. “I thought you might like it,” Minerva said, tossing the white helmet to her.

Lucy was known to be very coordinated, but she failed to catch it. The helmet hit the pavement and she squeaked, scooping it up the moment it hit the ground. “L-Like it?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded. “I buy all of my friends their own helmet,” Lucy opened her mouth, but Minerva slid her helmet on. “And yes, you’re my friend. Now get on before I get caught, you fairies are very defensive over the boundaries.”

Lucy compiled very quickly, settling the helmet on over her head. It felt weird, as she hadn’t worn something so heavy before but it would keep her safe. She straddled the seat, barely enough left to fit her bottom. “Thanks, Minerva. Are you sure buying a helmet was necessary, I could-”

Minerva cranked the hand bar once more, the motorcycle roaring to life. “I don’t waste my money on random people, Lucy. You don’t need to pay me back, I have enough money as it is already.” At her last comment, a disheartening chuckle came. “Now get a better grip on me, we wouldn’t want you to fall off. Your ‘friend’ wouldn’t like that too much.” Minerva pulled her hands, wrapping them more securely around her leather covered waist. She took this opportunity to truly embrace Minerva, scooting forward in her seat. She felt so secure being close to the tiger, relishing in the magic that seemed to always pour between them.

She squeezed Minerva’s waist, her smile hiding under her helmet. Lucy was perplexed by the shift when she used the word friend, paying no mind to it. “If I fell off, this would be one hell of a ride. Now take us to your destination, my trusty steed!”

Now it was Minerva’s turn to laugh, it was genuine and filled with heartiness. She pulled her heeled boot up to rest it on the bike, time slowing as they tore off. Minerva’s bike booming with a youthful excitement, the tires careening against the worn asphalt. Lucy’s vision waa black, tinted by her helmet’s visor. A small twinge of guilt passing through her, seeing none other than Gray bounding against the school’s courtyard.

Minerva along with the engine mocked him with their cries, drowning out his own pleas for her to come back. Those blue eyes sent a chill through her but she choose to look forward; right now Gray would only hinder her from her current goal. All she wanted was love, was that too much to ask?

Sure, she had noticed Lucy’s classmate running through those glass doors. But did she care? Not one bit. In her own cunning way, Minerva had whisked the celestial mage away. She was going to give Lucy the time of her life, whether that boy or any of those other fairies liked it or not.

Moving the handle bar forward, she accelerated down the streets of Magnolia. She didn’t have a clue as to where she was going, but she had a final destination in mind. The wind was hitting her sharply, briskly whipping against the wisps of hair that had fallen from her helmet. Those slim hands that were wrapped around her torso granting her more confidence than she typically had. Right now she was riding high, the streets aware of the daring side of her driving.

Keeping her eyes forward, she careened through traffic. Being careful not to startle her sole passenger, but the girl didn’t seem to mind her speed. The stop light ahead had just turned yellow, but she had no intentions of slowing down. “Minerva!” Lucy’s fingers gripped her waist, shoving her head into her back. The wind almost drowned her voice out, but Minerva could hear the urgency.

Feeling the adrenaline course through her, she beamed forward and passed through the crimson light. Multiple cars honked at them, halting as they passed through the intersection but she payed them absolutely no mind. Turning the corner she pushed them through the boundaries of Magnolia.

Slowly the colorful streets became more and more dull with each crossing, the town shifting into desolation. She knew this part of Fiore well, Minerva had grown up on these broken roads. It was a town far from where Sabertooth resided, a city in which she grew up.

The small town of Daffodil was worn down and torn up by the cities surrounding it. Everyone had stomped all over it, crushing and wilting it down to the bare thread it was now. In its prime everything was flawless and stunning, but now it was just a complete mess. Once again, Minerva turned, hitting her bar hard as they sped uphill.

She sped onto a dirt lot, facing a crumbled and abandoned warehouse. There was already a various assortment of vehicles in the makeshift parking lot, but they all had come here for her. Coming to a stop the dirt settled around them, the engine’s call slowly fading out. Minerva placed her gloved hand over Lucy’s and removed her dainty hands. It irked her how much her magic had reacted to Lucy. She figured it would be over in due time, she just had to wait it out.

“I know it may not look like much, but we’re here.” She could feel Lucy slip off the seat, her boots crunching the ground. With a small maneuver of her foot, she kicked the bike’s stand out. The silver piece of metal fitting into the dirt nicely as she set it down.

She leaned on the bike after she pulled her leg over, watching as Lucy pulled the helmet from her head. The afternoon sun shaded her hair the amber but the color of gold was still apparent. “Is there some type of party going on?”

It was apparent that she didn’t know what to do with her helmet, already shifting the gear from arm to arm. Minerva smiled as she pulled her own off, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders. She held out her hand, gesturing to the white headgear. “You could say that, but it’s much better than some highschool party. That much I can tell you.” The moment her fingers touched the pearly surface, the piece disappeared along with her own helmet. “Would you like me to take your bag too?”

Her doe eyes sparked with confusion and Minerva materialized her own helmet again. “I have the ability to manipulate space, remember?” She crooned, a teasing lilt in her voice.

A small blush rose on Lucy’s cheeks as she face palmed. “Yeah, I guess seeing your magic in the works was very new to me. I usually have my spirits store my stuff.” Minerva raised a brow at this.

Lucy continued on shyly, “Yeah, the spirit of the maiden, Virgo will practically assist me in any way shape or form. As long as I ask her…” She paused and looked at Minerva coyly, “...but between you and me, she's a bit of a masochist too.”

The blonde's small remark made Minerva smile. She had heard of Lucy’s relationship with her spirits from Yukino, and she wasn’t let down in the slightest. It seemed as if she were much more fond of them, than her best friend. Lucy held many more keys than Yukino, which meant she held more power. It didn’t necessarily mean she was stronger by any means; this was something Minerva needed to check out for herself.

Which is why she brought Lucy here in the first place -a fight club. The blonde didn’t fit the bill for this place, not one bit. She didn’t seem like the type for such brawls with her cheerleader-like personality, but most importantly, Lucy was a fairy. Most of the people didn’t associate with the likes of Fairy Tail, but Minerva would grant her premier access. It was her club, after all.

“Most maids are,” Minerva quipped in return. She looked Lucy over and was surprised by the girl’s wardrobe. Never had she seen someone dress so provocatively and handle it well. She would be saddened if she had to take her eyes off the blonde.  “Now let’s get inside, everyone is waiting for my arrival.” Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she led Lucy inside the graffiti covered building.

The walls were falling apart and there was hardly any lighting. Minerva had heard this site was supposed to be a parking structure but had collapsed due to faulty structuring. It was just another on the long list of failures for the city of Daffodil. She was glad it had fallen, because now she had a place to entertain herself in.

She heard Lucy gasp errantly as they stepped into the main chasm. The space was filled with piles of rubbage, the rocks piled haphazardly on top of one another. These stacks circled around what was the middle of the room, light filtering down from above. The soon setting sun offered little light, but the moon shone desperately into the circle. That same silvery light outlining the two opponents in the center. A mop of blonde hair and a darker head she was fond with stood bloodied and bruised, neither ready to back down.

“Welcome to the party, Lucy.” Minerva chuckled deeply, ushering the blonde in. At the sound her own voice, many who were meandering on the rocks yelled the mage’s name. Hoots and hollers welcomed the two in and she absolutely relished in it.

She was stiff and Minerva placed a hand on her back, closing the space between the two of them. Carefully she pulled a lock of hair behind Lucy’s ear, magic bouncing between them. Minerva managed to hold her surprise in, but the blonde shuddered. “Don’t worry, Lucy. These guys bite, but they are good acquaintances of mine. If they lay a hand on you, they’ll be paying a fair price.” Her lips barely moved against the shell of Lucy’s ear, the blonde fidgeting in her place. The devil in her was currently in play and she couldn’t stop making the fairy quiver, it was too much fun.

She nodded and stepped forward from Minerva, stepping out of the darkness. “This is my guest, Lucy. We are to play nice with her today, if not you are expelled from here. But that’s not before you get a taste of my fists.”

Most of the population were males and they whopped at her introduction. The two in the ring turned and eyed them cautiously before stepping out. The one with darker hair grinned and stepped forward, “Great timing, this demon was just about to get his ass kicked.” Blood covered his fists and portions of his face, brightening the feral look in his crimson eyes.

“The fuck ya mean. One more explosion and it would’ve been lights out for you, pincushion.” Very animatedly the blond shook his fist at Gajeel, his canines bared. Jackal really had a knack for blowing up on people. He did look to be in much worse shape from his combatant, not that it mattered much to her. “Now that the lady is here, I can’t give ya the lights out you deserve.”

Minerva tutted, placing a hand on her hip. “You guys are always so desperate, it’s pathetic. And it’s also very impolite that you started without me, for that you two are punished. You cannot participate in the next meeting.”

Both growled but didn’t dare to challenge her word. The two took their separate ways, allowing the spotlight to be directed upon herself. She grinned as everyone’s attention was finally on her, she loved the attention -it was a home away from home. “Now,” looking around it didn’t seem as if many others had turned up, “I think we should show Lucy how things work around here. Don’t you agree?”

Many blank stares were directed toward her and a single hand lifted. It belonged to none other than Cobra, and he stepped from the shadows. “If Blondie is here, she might as well get initiated. Don’t ya think? It’s one of the rules you implemented from the start, m’lady.” He hissed mockingly, a maniac grin curling on his face. Lucy flinched at his words, shying into her side.

Minerva shook her head, “She isn’t here to join.” She sent a glare his way, warning him to behave.

“She might as well be, why else would she be here? Unless this is your idea of a first date, you lesbian cu-” He sputtered as a hand clapped him on the nape of his neck. Lucy’s face turned bright red at his comment and Minerva wanted to point it out so badly, but she would wait another time.

“You’re so rude, Erik.” Midnight’s two-toned hair glistened as he stood next to the dragon slayer. “Minerva isn’t going to take your bullshit any longer. Last time you pressed her buttons, she kicked your ass to the curb.” The members erupted into laughter and she thought on the memory fondly, it was such a good meeting. She showed his punk ass who truly was boss and she was ready to do it again.

Cobra immediately zipped his lips shut, cursing under his breath. “So what if it’s a date? My personal life does not involve you, Erik. Now shut your trap or I’ll show you the door.” She replied smoothly. Looking around, she eyed the crowd and pointed at two opposing figures -Sting and Flare.

“Get out onto the floor and show us what you’re made of.” Minerva stalked over to a makeshift throne, gracefully sitting upon it. She beckoned Lucy over, gesturing to her lap. “Come and sit.” The blonde blushed, shaking her head.

“If there’s rules here, I will oblige. I can fight instead of Sting.” Lucy wasn’t shy in her words, but there was an underlying uncertainty.

This made Minerva grin, she was just one surprise after the next. “I suppose you can, but it’s not going to be that easy. You can relax for now, Sting.”

Sabertooth’s president groaned as he stepped out of the ring, taking his side next to her. “I wanted to fight today, Minerva. You promised me, “ Sting whined. He sat on the arm of her throne, leaning against her.

“Behave yourself and you can go after Lucy.” With her toe, Minerva nudged Lucy into the circle. “There is only one rule: you must knock your competitor out with the use of magic. Whether you push them out of the circle or knock them out.” She grinned as Lucy shuffled passed the white chalked runes. Minerva didn’t give the celestial mage a chance to back out, those same runes glowing as she stepped over them. With the snap of her fingers, a cage sprouted from the ground, confining the two girls inside.

Minerva stared in awe at Lucy, her stomach turning at the thought of her pale skin being marred by the psychotic red head. Flare was a force to be reckoned with.

Lucy did not come here prepared to fight; her clothes were revealing and she didn’t even have the time to stretch! Eyeing her opponent, Flare (she believed) was dressed like her -maybe ever worse. A long red sundress covered her body, the top v-neck line showing an obscene amount of cleavage. A large tribal-like mark covered her bosom, but it was distinctly familiar to Lucy.

She knew that most of the people gathered here were juvenile delinquents of sorts. It was obvious because of her classmates Cobra and Midnight, but she didn’t have much of an idea who anyone else was. But this was the perfect spot for such shenanigans, and to think Minerva would be the head of it all.

Coming into the rundown place, she knew something was off but she didn’t expect a fight club. Out of all the possibilities, it just had to be this. She wondered what Minerva could possibly be thinking by bringing her here. But if this place had rules, it was her duty to follow them. With or without invitation, she would assimilate with this rag tag bunch. Her end goal was to become closer with Minerva and this would surely do the trick -hopefully.

Looking back, she met those alluring hazel eyes. They sparkled with a unfamiliar darkness, beckoning Lucy to step forward. Minerva crossed her leg, leaning back in her rocky chair of royalty. “She can’t save you anymore, Blondie.”

Flare shuffled across the tattered floor, crooning her head at Lucy. There was only one problem, Lucy wasn’t trained in fist fighting. She didn’t know if she could do this without her whip but she eyed the redhead anyways. “I don’t need her to save me.” As much as she tried, her words wavered. Those gathered snickered and Lucy could feel her face heat up, pulling her hand to her side.

All too familiar keys warmed against her fingers, her spirits consoling her through the metal. Before she could pull one off her ring, tendrils of red wrapped around her wrist. In one quick motion, her hand was pulled from her hip; those same locks glowing red. Her wrist flared up, burning in the wraps of hair. Lucy hollered in pain, yanking her wrist from its bindings.

A manic smile encroached on Flare’s features, daring Lucy to touch her keys once again. Her body thrashed over from one side to the next, sending more of those red strands toward her. Lucy’s heart skipped a beat as she successfully dodged the girl’s assault, pulling Virgo from her belt. “Gate of the Maid, I open thee! Virgo!”

With the queue of bells and pink mist, one of her most powerful spirits appeared. A small flick of her wrist indicated one command -distract Flare. Holding out her hand, her fleuve d'étoiles, her most powerful weapon appeared. Flailing it to the side, the tail radiated with blue magical energy. She cracked it at her opponent as accurately as possible, hoping to get her off-guard.

“If we’re starting, let me introduce you to Virgo!” Lucy exclaimed as Flare dodged her own attacks. At this point Lucy was waiting for her spirit’s own queue.

Multiple threads of hair came at her once again and she barely managed to escape from them. They kept trading attacks, blue and red crossing paths numerous times. Flare’s red eyes burned with each failed attack. “Now sit still,” hunching forward, her hair molding into a large dog, “Hair Shower: Wolf Fang!”

In an effort to block, she placed her forearms in front of her face. This did little against the force of her attack. Flare’s hair barreled into Lucy, making her skid into the white rune border. Immediately she hopped back up onto her feet, her whole body burning from the dog’s bite. “Who said that you could leave?” Those feathered fringes of red, wrapped around Lucy’s boot and pulled her deeper into the ring.

She couldn’t help but scream as her body was dragged across the rough landscape. Lucy pulled at her belt, her fingers skimming over her most reliable spirit. “Le-”

Silken strands wrapped around her mouth, smoldering her lips. Another scream ripped from her throat, Flare’s ruthlessness never ending. “I never said you could speak either. Just scream!” Her red hair pulled Lucy up, holding her up by her wrists. The color glowed brightly, the heat tearing through her smooth skin.

In desperation, Lucy bit down on her tongue as to not let another cry of pain break through. A new feeling of warmth spread over her tongue, mixed with the taste of iron. Everyone was screaming and rooting for Flare, not one call for herself. Lucy hung her head in shame, trying to pull her wrists from their entrapment.

The ground under the red head’s feet began to rumble and Lucy cheered internally. A great big hole appeared under Flare’s feet, gravity doing the rest of the work. She fell into the opening, her hairs releasing their hold on Lucy. “Now Leo!”

Her trusty lion appeared in a burst of gold, winking at Lucy. “Anything for you, princess!” Leo lunged forward, his fists glowing with the power of Regulus. As he jumped down into the hole, she feel to the ground. Her body burned from Flare’s magic, the pain making her vision blur.

Pulling herself back up to her feet, she could feel a great pull on her magic. Virgo’s gate had closed, Flare cackling from the small opening. Lucy picked her whip back up, stumbling over to the deep pit Virgo had made. Leo and Flare were dodging each others close ranged attacks.

“Lucy Kick!” The blonde dived down, feet first. Her heel connected with the back of Flare’s head, sending the girl down to the floor. Her hair spilled around her form like a puddle of blood, those tresses tangled and dirtied from their battle.

She stepped from Flare’s body, the effects of adrenaline leaving her body. Lucy felt a wave of exhaustion pass through her, leaning on the dirt wall. Leo nudged her body with his foot and gave her the thumbs up.

She acknowledged him with a small nod and looked up toward the night sky. The stars called to her and she smiled.

“The bitch down yet?” A head of yellow hair peared over the edge of the hole, his snarl revealing two rows of sharpened teeth.

“Back off, Jackal.” He was yanked back, Minerva’s face appearing instead. A proud smile lifting on her lips as her hazel eyes met her own. “You made me worried for a second. I’m glad to see you could handle yourself, Lucy.”

“You shouldn’t doubt her.” Leo chided, hefting Flare into his arms. “Although I don’t approve of this, Lucy is capable of handling herself any day.” He huffed, a film of dust covering his glasses.

Minerva eyed the spirit with much thought, those red lips falling into a scowl. “I never said I doubted her talents. She wasn’t supposed to participate anyways, lion. I’m not who you think I am.” She turned her attention from her spirit to Lucy, holding her gloved hand out to her.

Lucy could feel Minerva’s magic pour through her, graciously accepting the tiger’s hand. She failed to notice her other spirit’s gate closing. The stars had left her, eyes growing wide as her side burned. Looking down she could see crimson red locks spill through her abdomen, all of it covered in her own blood. She released Minerva’s hand, falling back into the large ditch.

“I win, Blondie.” This was the last thing she heard, Flare completely unhinged as she fell into the space of darkness.

Minerva’s reaction was instantaneous, everyone else in uproar. Her tattooed wrist flaring with a cool heat as Lucy fell, hissing in pain as magic burst from her fingers. A swirling black guise flew at Flare, truly taking the psychotic bitch down now. Deep down Minerva knew it was a bad idea to let Lucy fight.

“Sting, get down there and tend to Lucy.” Urgency was laced in her command, her throat straining against it’s leather confines. Minerva then pointed at Cobra, “You, get Flare out of here. We’ll deal with her later. And to the rest of you…” She paused and quickly contemplated the best course of action. An injury such as this had never occurred before.

“Get the hell out of here. If so much as a word about this gets out, I will come for you personally.” Minerva seethed and threw her hand out to the side. The group of shifty delinquents didn’t question her, meandering on their way out. And there was a certain injured dragon slayer, that stuck out like a sore thumb on the leaving crowd. She needed him for their trip to Lamy’s. “Everyone except for Gajeel.”

The iron dragon slayer stilled in the crowd, waiting until the rest passed by him. “Why the hell do I hafta stay? I did nothin’.”

Minerva eyed him, not amused by his small outburst. “It’s simple really. I need you to carry Lucy, we need to get her to Lamy.”

It was clear that he disagreed with her idea, it was written all over Gajeel’s face. “Isn’t there someone else we can take her to? That… girl really has a knack for grinding my gears. And she’s super fucking creepy.”

She shook her head and pointed to the massive hole. “Just do as I say. Help Sting get her stabilized and I’ll meet you at Lamy’s place.” She began to stalk off toward where Cobra had taken off with Flare. Lamy always fell for Minerva’s tricks, Sting and Gajeel would be good eye-candy for the boy thirsty doctor. The girl wouldn’t be able to resist her finest.

“Aye, where do you think you’re goin’? You can’t just leave us with this blonde bimbo.”

Lucy’s name burned and Minerva grimaced as she turned. “Dealing with Flare is my top priority at the moment. If Lucy dies or gets an infection, or some other debilitating wound because your lazy ass won’t help her, then you’re next on my list.” Gajeel gulped, fear fuming off of him. If she didn’t need him, he would be in just as much pain she was about to give Flare. “Got that, Redfox?”

Without another word, he dropped down and all she could see was the top of his head of hair. Minerva grinned at her win but the feeling didn’t last for long. Once out of the demolished parking structure, her main focus was on Cobra. Pulling out her lacrima com, she dialed the said dragon slayer.

“We got her in the back of the truck. You failed at knocking her out though.” As Minerva walked, his voice echoed through the speaker. “And right now, she’s really putting up a fight against Midnight’s magic.”

Hastily she walked through the makeshift parking lot, searching for the industrial white van. “It wasn’t my intention to knock her out. That bitch needed to be put down until I got to her. Now make sure Midnight keeps his hold until I get there.” Minerva scoffed and ended the call.

A yellow light was timidly shining on the dirt lot, white doors open wide. Positioning herself right in front of those same doors, her hands were consumed with her own magic. “Release her, Midnight.”

Midnight withdrew a relieved sigh and stepped out of the truck, Cobra following in suit. An ear piercing scream shattered what little patience she had left. Minerva was really going to enjoy teaching Flare a small lesson. The red head curled into the back of the van, attempting to hide from Minerva. How silly.

Manipulating the space around Flare, Minerva restrained all of her limbs. A purplish grow radiating off her body as she held the hair mage. “Did you really think you could get away with it? Lucy is mine, not yours.” She seethed, her emotions strangling her thoughts.

Flare cackled, insanity covering her features. “That tramp couldn’t win. Her porcelain skin just had to break. At least the red will compliment her outfit.”

Midnight and Cobra stood with their arms crossed, not once flinching as she began to torture Flare. Her stomach was reeling with anger, pushing it all into her magic. They made absolutely no move to stop her, only stood as watch for the law. Minerva was merciless as her magic dripped from her, making sure Flare felt the burn with every attack.

It felt like ages had passed when she was done with Flare but it had only been five minutes. Five minutes of piercing shrieks and cries of pain. And she did all of it with a smirk on her face, it was a joy to utilize her powers for revenge. If this had happened to anyone else, she knew that it would have been handled differently. But no one was allowed to lay a hand of ill intent on Lucy except for her.

Flare’s injuries didn’t compare to the blonde’s but she left the woman sitting in the back of the truck. Grabbing ahold of the two steel doors, she slammed them shut. “I think red look best suited on her right now. Take her to the doors of Raven Tail and drop her off. If she makes contact with anyone here, let me know Cobra. As far as I’m concerned, she is a traitor.”

Cobra grumbled and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Whatever you say, Minerva. Make sure not to dwell on your thoughts too much, they’re dangerous.” He stalked off to the driver’s door and Midnight hopped into the passenger seat.

Shit, Minerva thought. Cobra had just heard every single thing. “Damn right I did.” Cobra yelled as he pulled off.

She hoped he wouldn’t use this information as leverage. Cobra wasn’t the type to meddle in others business, but if he tried to pull anything, he knew she would be on it in a minute.

Walking back to her motorcycle, not one vehicle inhabited the lot. She was impressed by the clear time of everyone, it left her impressed. Her little band of misfits really knew when to listen. Speeding down the dark hill, she took many side roads to Lamy’s shifty clinic. It was after curfew and she couldn’t risk being caught. It would be harder to get things done if she had a run in with the cops.

Minerva cam skidding to a halt in a dark alleyway, knocking on rust-encrusted door. The door squeaked open, a small girl stepping through. “Why can’t I ever be left alone with such lovely boys?”

She could feel her eyes roll into the back of her head, Lamy was the same as ever. “Shut up, will you? Did you manage to get her stable?”

Lamy began her unusual hyperventilating as she led the way through her so-called clinic. The lights were flickering and there was absolutely no sense of organization. The place looked like a rat’s nest, hospital beds strewn about, medical supplies placed were placed in mindless spots, and nothing looked sterile. But it was Minerva’s only option for now.

“I wouldn’t have come to the door if she wasn’t. But you two girls need to leave.” She pulled back a worn and stained curtain, revealing Lucy.

She was lain on a dusty bed, only two bags attached to her. Her wrists and ankles were wrapped, along with her torso. Blood seeped through the bandages wrapped around her midsection, and Minerva frowned.

“I’m gay for christ’s sake. My presence, and Lucy’s do not hinder you from ‘your boys’. Now what’s the final verdict?” A small sigh of frustration came from her as she sat at Lucy’s bed side.

Lamy wheezed and picked up a small clipboard. “She received second and third degree burns on her wrists and ankles. But what we need to  worry about it the gaping hole in her stomach.” She tapped the board apprehensively, observing Lucy’s monitor. “Those burns will be easy to heal, but her abdomen will be harder to fix. I can’t do that over night.”

“You mean you can’t be bothered with it.” Minerva snapped, tired with the demon already.

Lamy frowned and spoke quickly, “She’s not really my problem, is she? I don’t see why I have to fix someone who’s already so… pretty.”  

Minerva huffed and stood, grabbing the clipboard from the small girl. “If you’re not going to do it, I will. Sting and Gajeel will have no part in it either.” She had Lamy on a string, the girl’s eyes widening with deprivation.

“No, no. I’ll start the preparations now. As long as those boys help me, everything will be done. And this busty blonde will be patched up as good a new. Not one blemish or scar, I swear.” Lamy’s words were rushed, she never wanted to lose the attention of a male.

Pushing the board back into Lamy’s hands, she nodded. “That’s what I thought. Now hurry up, I need to have her back before dawn.”

“Sting! Gajeel! Hurry up and get this bimbo to cylinder one!” Lamy ran from the room, leaving Minerva alone with Lucy.

Once again, she settled at her bedside. Minerva eyed her surroundings before taking Lucy’s hand in her own, sighing in relief as that small twinge of magic jumped between them. She opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it closed. Lucy was unconscious and no one else was there to listen to her.

Her golden hair laid flat against the white pillow, not one person bothering to pull the covers up over her. Leaning down, Minerva fixed it; laying the strachy sheets over her frame. She even went as far to tuck her in, a small smile dotting her lips. Timidly she pet the hairs on Lucy’s forehead, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear.

“You did so well today, Lucy. You fought with spirit and wit, trumping Flare’s laughable tactics.” Picking up the unconscious girl’s hand, she peppered it with a small kiss.

“Yeah, we’ll get her. Calm the fuck down, bunny girl.” Gajeel obnoxiously clambered into the room, trying to shoo Lamy off. Minerva quickly dropped Lucy’s hand and stood, looking right at the pierced male.

Lamy paraded around him, practically worshipping his every move. “But just let me,” she wheezed, Lamy’s breath hitching, “observe those muscles as you work. It will give me some research material.”

Gajeel’s patience was completely absent as he pushed the small girl out of the way. “Observe this then.”

“Be nice, Gajeel. To Lamy and Lucy, I don’t want to fix anyone else up today.” Smoothing her hands onto her suit, she stood up. Gajeel scoffed and pulled the bed Lucy was in, pushing her out the door.

“Yeah, yeah. No way am I gonna fuck with you, but you should get this demon off my ass.” At his words, Lamy began to maniacally giggle. Minerva felt some guilt, but this situation was also too funny at the same time.

“I’m going to take a walk instead.” Minerva gave Gajeel a pitiful pat on the back as she left the room. “I’ll be back before the night is over.”

She took one last look at Lucy, her wrist pulsating with and unknown flame of desire. She ignored it and exited into the back alley of Lamy’s shit-hole of a clinic.

Her motorcycle was nowhere in sight, the night enshrouding it. Yet she could hear the engine of her bike purr. “Nice bike.”

“Nice to see you’ve finally found us, Gary. Oops, I mean Gray.” Minerva grinned, feigning a small apologetic smile. The lights of her bike flickered on, covering Minerva in a blinding white film.

This weekend didn’t look to be getting any better at this point.

[marvelwhatthefuck]

i know a part of her lives on (Chapter One)

based on the amazing fic And You’ll Blow Us All Away by @losingmymindtonight ! 

Check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13753611/chapters/31606242

Also, I’m on Ao3! Here’s a link to this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15313377/chapters/35528283

Chapter One: my body is immaterial (but my love for you is real)

May wakes up suddenly.

It takes her a moment to really become aware of her surroundings - her head's fuzzy, like a headache but without the pain. When she shakes it a bit, her hair slaps back against her face but doesn't make a sound, which probably should've concerned her, but she was so out of it that the thought didn't really register. She's not in any pain (and why should she be, why had she noticed this) but everything still feels a bit off.

The first thing that she notices is Peter. (He is always first, her priority since he arrived with red eyes filled with tears, snot running down from his nose in some kind of science tee, an iron man backpack dragged along behind him as he stands, hunched into himself next to a tall dark-haired woman so he looks so, so small, sobs racking his shoulders as he whimpers the words "mom and dad" over and over again.) He's alone, in a bright white, sterile room that hurts to look at, his arms pulled over around himself like he's trying to give himself a hug, his head lowered so that all she can see is his curly brown hair, tangled and sticking up the way it does after he runs his hand through it one too many times. Though she can't see his face, she can tell that he's crying even from where she's standing across the room, his shoulders shaking and fingers twitching erratically from where they are grabbing tightly into the folds of his sweatshirt.

"Peter." His name falls from her lips without prompting, warning bells screaming in her head as she makes her way towards him. He doesn't look up at her voice, but as she gets closer she can make out the tears that fall from his eyes onto his cheeks, his face red and blotchy from crying. She hasn't seen him look this wrecked, this broken since Ben, since his parents, and she almost stills at the thought because what the hell could've shaken him this much, taken her bright, brilliant boy and smashed his goofy façade into pieces? She's right next to him, now, but he still hasn't given any indication that he notices her presence, not even a lean into her side or a hand reaching out to find hers (He always was clingy, craving physical contact with those he trusted - be it a hug, or a hand on his shoulder, or curling against each other watching TV - Peter needed the physical affirmation that you were there, that you wouldn’t leave) so she reaches a hand to place on his shoulder-

And it goes straight through him.

What?

She tries again, to no avail - only succeeding in making her hand feel weird, almost like the pins-and-needles feeling that you get when a limb falls asleep. A strange kind of numbness settles over her, even as panic begins to bubble over - rising within her body like water about to boil over in a pot. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the door opening, and she turns to meet the face of a tall, blonde woman with her hair tucked back into a bun, her eyes tired and lips pursed. Peter stirs a little next to her but doesn’t look up, and the woman's shoulders fall in a sigh.

"Peter," she says, her voice nasally, in a tone that is a little too distant, a little too professional to be sympathetic. "I'm sorry about your loss, but it's getting late, and you can't stay here." The teen's head shakes minutely, his hair falling in waves over his forehead. May wants to pull him into a hug, but she can't, and the puzzle pieces are falling into place in her head almost too fast for her to react. The woman waits for Peter to say something, but the usual chatter is gone: replaced with soft sobs and shuddery breaths that start at his chest and let out waves of trembles that end at his fingertips. She sighs again, a little more audibly, and Peter flinches back. "Do you have someone you can call?"

Peter nods, once, and pulls out his cell phone, pulling up his contacts. His hand's still shaking as he pulls it to his ear, and his teeth worry his lip as he waits for the call to connect. It goes through quickly - almost too quickly, but she puts that thought away for later, and Peter's voice is shaky like the rest of him as he speaks into the speaker.

"T-tony?"

May can't hear the billionaire's reply, but at his voice, Peter starts to cry a little more, his free hand clenching and unclenching at his side. "I-I need…" He sobs, the sound sending pangs of distress straight into her heart, and his shoulders tense with the effort to keep himself together, to prevent himself from full-out breaking down before explaining what happened. From the side, the woman's shoe taps impatiently, and May stifles an urge to tell her to fuck off. "I need you."

Though she can't hear Tony, she knows that he's panicking, probably was making his way to Peter's location the moment he got the call. May wants to cry, to scream - her kid is right there, so close that she can see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, so close that she can see the faint scar on the side of his forehead from where he crashed his bike into a tree when he was ten, but at the same time she's too far away for him to feel her hugs, to see her face, to hear her voice. Peter's still talking to Tony, speaking in halting, choppy sentences that he struggles to get out through his tears, and she thinks that he's in the middle of answering a question when the woman cuts him off, startling him so that he curls a bit further into himself, hand pulling at his hair the way it does when he gets really stressed. Objectively, May knows that her anger is a little irrational, that it's probably late and the woman, whoever the hell she is, just wants to get her job done so she can go home, but she's doing this to Peter - and well, with Peter, objectivity goes straight out the window.

"-Avery Nickles from the Department of Social Services. I understand that you're Peter Parker's emergency contact?"

May knew that she should've been focusing on the conversation, or at least on Social Services, but for some reason, she's stuck on the name. She knows its petty but grumbles in Italian under her breath just the same, though she knows that the woman won't hear her, cursing Avery Nickles and wishing that she could take Peter as far away from the woman as possible. Without Tony, Peter looks more lost than ever, staring resolutely at the floor with one hand still clutching a little too tightly at his hair - whenever he'd do that in the past, after Ben's death and the subsequent nightmares that he had after them, or when he'd first come into their little apartment in Queens, she'd carefully ease his grip so that he grabbed at her hand instead. She tries to do so without thinking, but her hand goes through him again and she draws it back as if burned, looking back at the social worker.

"-sorry to inform you of this, but May Parker was involved in a fatal car wreck this evening."

May Parker was involved in a fatal car wreck.

She had been suspecting it - even before her hand went through Peter's body, really, starting from the strange lack of pain and fuzziness in her head that's still there if she focuses on it enough, but hearing it - out loud, sure, and real - it sends her eyelids crashing shut as her shoulders tense, fists clenched into fists. She takes a few slow breaths, emotions speeding through the five stages of grief - is she mourning her own death? But she can't linger on the bombshell, fuck, she'd prepared for this, written a will and everything, but she'd never thought that the world could hurt her kid again, that at least for Peter, he'd have at least one person left in his life, but fuck-

(What was it, that Aaron Burr had sung in Hamilton when Peter was obsessed with it a year ago? Death doesn't discriminate? She wouldn't call herself a saint - but Peter, he was the best person she'd ever met, ever known, ever got to love, and death didn't care, just kept taking more and more and more anyways.)

She lets her breaths steady as she opens her eyes again, resolve filling her being as she focuses on Peter. He needed her, right now, even if she couldn't do much - she had to watch over him. She'd promised Mary and Richard, then promised Ben, and now that there was no one left, she promised herself; she couldn't let Peter be alone.

She looks up as the woman hands the phone back to Peter, and he clutches it like it’s a lifeline. He's more closed off, a little more broken than earlier, his face almost passing for impassive if it weren't for the tears still rolling down his cheeks. He has a short conversation with Tony, shock settling over him so that all he can get out are short, simple words, and when the call disconnects he falls into hiccupping sobs. The social worker- Avery or whatever the shit, takes him by the arm and pulls him out of the hospital room, practically shoving him into some kind of office where she sits across from him, looking down at her kid with pity that makes May's blood boil. She sits on the side of the recliner that Peter had curled himself in, well, floated in a sitting position as close to the surface of the armrest as she could, anyway, and watched resolutely out the windows as to avoid her sniffling teenager that she couldn't comfort and the social worker staring at her computer.

It is because of this that she notices Tony Stark the moment he steps into the hallway- though he's half-running, looking more ragged than she's ever seen him. His face is set in a smile that looks more like a grimace by the second, and she's been a parent for long enough to recognize the panicked creases that settle at the corner of his eyes. As his eyes land on Peter, he finally stops, the smile falling off of his face entirely. It's strange, seeing him look this tired, this distraught - and before her eyes, he sets his shoulders back and puts his hands in his pockets, a million-dollar smile plastered on his face so blinding that it almost manages to cover the weariness in his eyes. In less than a second, he goes from frazzled mentor (father?) to the playboy billionaire image that she's seen a thousand times on TV, and a fleeting thought of whether he does this before every press conference or interview crosses her mind.

She doesn't pay attention to much of their conversation turning back to watch Peter. His face remains impassive through the tears, and May hates that she doesn’t even need to look at him to know what grief looks like on his face. When it gets too painful to look at the set edge of his jaw, his eyes shiny and red from crying, she turns back to Tony, and something in her is satisfied by how clearly his dislike is for the social worker, who is asking him something about guardianship.

"I think you'll find that I'm the one Mrs. Parker has listed."

May can see Peter's reaction from the corner of her eye, and she flinches back a bit; she really had meant to tell him about it, but nobody had expected anything to happen to her this soon. Peter probably didn't even know that she had a will drafted up already. She closes her eyes, still listening to the conversation.

"And are you willing to undertake these responsibilities?"

May looks up at Tony, searching his face for any trace of doubt.

"Why do you think I'm here?"

He tries to give his answer flippantly, but there's a fire in his eyes that wasn't there earlier like he's daring the universe to challenge him and prove him wrong. It's this determination that drove her to make the decision in the first place, she thinks, the ability for Tony to love so deeply and so truly that you forget that it's even there. It's the drive to protect that created Iron Man in the first place, the selflessness that pushed him through a wormhole with a nuke on his back, the worried, hovering kind of care that possessed Tony to create a suit worth millions, filled with protocols and technology that she can't even begin to understand just to make sure that her little boy can swing home in one piece at night. It's all of these things that made her write his name on her will, with the knowledge that no matter what happened to her, he'd do all that he could to keep her kid safe and happy, with a roof over his head and enough food to feed him for several lifetimes.

May had been afraid, before, that she'd judged him wrong, that she'd been putting her faith in a man that wouldn't follow through. But watching him come to Peter in the middle of the night, shifting from Tony Stark to Iron Man as he faces down a social worker that questioned how willing he was to take care of her kid, it takes that voice of doubt and quiets it, at least for now.

She watches as the social worker slinks over to the side of the room, and Tony walks towards Peter, his façade cracking slightly as he gets closer to the recliner where they sit. Peter says his name with a sort of desperation that she recognizes from the days that he'd hover just outside her room, eyes focused on his shaking hands like he's looking for something that isn't there anymore. After what feels like a hundred years, they start ambling towards the hallway, Tony slowing his pace down to that of Peter, who moved through the hallway listlessly. May follows a couple steps behind them, watching as Tony guides him forward with a gentle hand on Peter's forearm. She doesn't notice a wall in time to go around it, but when her shoulder catches the corner, it goes through it and she stops for a moment, eyes trained on her body which is somehow inside of the concrete.

She sighs and drags a hand down her face. Seems like she isn't as over her own death as she'd like.

The drive is…weird, to say the least. The inside of the car is flashier than anything that she's ever been in before, and she knows from pictures that it's one of Tony's more discreet models. The seats look to be made of fine leather, the ride is smooth, and practically no noise from the outside world makes it past the metal doors. Even so, she can't enjoy it, watching as the bodyguard keeps shooting concerned glances from over his shoulder, watching as Peter makes himself a human koala, searching for comfort in the form of physical contact from Tony. Thankfully, the older man doesn't pull away, instead leaning back somewhat awkwardly, but full of that same care that he hadn't let go of since he arrived.

They arrive upstate, met by some friend of Tony's that she can't remember the name of. Personally, the Avengers really weren't a big part of her life - just the local group of superheroes that managed to save the world that one time. She isn't like Peter, who lights up at any merchandise that he can get from the thrift shops a couple blocks away and memorizes the trivia sections of all of their Wikipedia pages. If this was any other time, then Peter would've embarrassed himself at least five times by now, tripping over words (and likely his feet) in his excitement. Now, his eyes only flash slightly in recognition before he buries himself into Tony's side, making himself as small as possible.

It isn't until they go up into some suite of the compound, a pristine living area that looked straight out of some homeowner's magazine that she has some time alone with Peter. Tony leaves to talk with his friend, and May orients herself so that she looks straight into Peter's eyes. He hardly even seems to be there, staring blankly ahead at a dark television screen, life flickering in the back corners of his pupils like a flame about to go out. She hesitates for a moment before cupping a hand around his cheek, wishing that she could run her hand through his hair the way that she always had before.

"Hey, Pete," she finds her vision going blurry, and she realizes that she's crying for the first time since she woke up in this mess, tears welling in her eyes and spilling over onto her cheeks. "I-I'm so sorry, baby, so, so sorry for leaving you. " She wipes at her eyes to keep staring at the brown eyes she knows so well, but they don't look over at her in the way that she's seen a million times, don't light up with curiosity or blink owlishly in confusion. "It's gonna be ok, Peter, I promise, it'll be ok, alright? And…" The words are suddenly stuck in her throat in a way that they have never been before, burning and dry and hard to get out. For a fleeting moment, she wonders why she is talking to someone who will never hear her, but a flicker of her Peter in the back of his eyes has her drying her tears and taking his face as well as she can with her hands, so that their eyes are level and their noses almost touch. "I love you so, so much, Peter Benjamin Parker. I larb you, always, ok baby? Never-"

She pushes herself forwards in a hug, tightening her arms around empty space. Underneath her, Peter doesn't even flinch, still sitting up stiffly the way he had since Tony left however many minutes ago.

"Never forget that, alright?"

[owl-girl04]

Part Two of Leakira AU

Yay I actually continued something for once! Thank you all so much for such a positive response on Part One, which if you haven’t read is here! So if you want another chapter of this, let me know. I know there isn’t as much Leakira stuff in this bit but I couldn’t resist adding in a few other characters, who you may recognize. Wink wink nudge nudge. 

AND! I posted the first chapter on AO3, and I’ll get this one on there soon, so if you want to read on there: here’s the link. Alright, that’s all I have to say, so here you go, Part Two:

After a fast journey towards the Florencent province, Leandro directed the bike towards the east concentration camps. As they crested a hilled road, the camp was easy to spot. Leandro’s opinion, it seemed to radiate evil. Where the rest of the city was packed with skyscrapers and full of bustling life, this small portion was full of rubble. The tallest buildings were the flat prisons where the occupants were forced to spend most of their time and the rest of the plain was brown and desolate. Hignua soldiers were everywhere, and easily outnumbered the prisoners two to one.

“So, your friends are in there?” Leandro asked, breaking the silence that had begun to stretch uncomfortably between them.

“Why do you care?” Akira shot back, and began making his way down the road.

“Because they seem important to you!” Leandro shouted, trying to make himself heard as Akira continued on his way. All he got for his efforts was a disbelieving look.

“You don’t even know me.”

“But I want to!” Leandro called, trying one last time.

This time he was completely ignored, and in the blink of an eye, Akira was gone, his inky black hair blending into the darkness.

Akira was flustered, which was odd, because he couldn’t remember the last time his mind had been so disorganized. And right before his first big mission, of all things. He was so close to rescuing his friends. Layla and Rowan and Dante. All three of them had gone in undercover, to gain information on the Hignua plans for planet Direx. From what he had heard, it didn’t look good for the planet’s pulsing multicultural environment. Think, absolute destruction.

But right now it was up to him to get his friends out. Their position had been compromised earlier in the week and just thinking about the fact that they could be being tortured right that second made him walk faster. He had his sword out and ready, its telltale rebel markings faded away with the press of a concealed button on the handle. He didn’t know why he hadn’t pressed the button earlier with Leandro, why he had trusted him.

Finally, he made it to the edge of the prison camp, still using shadows for cover. He stood there counting the seconds between patrols and learning the rhythm, but his anxiousness made him rush, and he darted out of his hiding spot a moment too soon. The last patrol turned around quickly at the sound of his footsteps, immediately raising their guns.

“HALT, and give verification.”

The voice beneath the helmet was robotic, meaning they were only sentries. Akira gritted his teeth and charged, taking down the two enemy fighters with four blows. He knew he didn’t have time to hide the bodies, so he sprinted onwards, towards the main building, where he knew Layla, Rowan, and Dante were being kept.

Back up on the hill, Leandro was having something of a crisis. When you give someone a ride to their rebel mission, do you stay and make sure they have a getaway vehicle? Especially if you really, really want to get that someone’s number? Should he have gone with Akira to help him break his friends out and prove that he actually did care? No other social situation had prepared him for any of these questions he was asking himself now. Even using the binoculars he kept stored in his seat compartment he couldn’t spot Akira’s lithe form as it inevitably hurried towards the center of the prison.

Leandro was so invested in looking for Akira that he nearly jumped five feet into the air as an alarm suddenly rang out. Loud and piercing, it was easily identifiable as a warning bell. With every renewed ring, Leandro grew more antsy. Finally he had had enough.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and double checked that he had both of his pistols. Then he began sprinting as fast as he could down the hill.

Akira was making progress. He had entered the main cell facility as soon as the alarm had gone off, already taken out a dozen guards, and was now standing at the door to his friends’ cell. Probably where they were kept when they weren’t being interrogated. All it took for the door to open was a quick, vicious stab of his sword into the lock.

When he spotted his friends, his knees wobbled a bit in relief. All of them were handcuffed, and shouted with relief when they saw him. Layla’s mouse-brown hair was sticking up in all directions and her green eyes, normally skeptical and cold, were warm and filled with emotion. Her brother would be relieved to see her with no extreme injuries. Rowan’s lanky limbs were sprawled out in front of her, where she was sitting against the wall. Most of her long blonde hair had come out of its normal braid, covering most of her face. Dante looked to be in the worst shape; his normally tan skin was pale and his ankle was resting at unnatural angle. He was the only one to not exclaim when he barged in.

After a quick removal of all of their bonds, Akira and Rowan helped Dante to his feet. Akira pulled knife out of his boot and handed it to Layla with a loaded expression. Even though she was more accustomed to computers and hacking, Layla knew how to use a blade. They began to make their way out of the building, moving way too slowly for Akira’s tastes.

As they reached the end of the hallway, they began to hear the echo of laser shots in the distance. Akira barely spared the noise a thought, knowing that any distraction was a good distraction. However, as the noise grew closer and closer, he began to worry. Layla turned around from where she was leading them, raising a questioning eyebrow. Turning to Rowan, he motioned her to stop.

“Rowan, you stay here with Dante. Take this,” he held out his final blade, “And don’t go anywhere unless you need to. Layla and I are going to check out the source of that noise and come straight back, I promise.”

Rowan accepted the small dagger, and pushed her hair behind her ears as she nodded, “If you don’t come back in, well, in a reasonable amount of time, I’m going after you.”

After a parting nod, Akira led the way towards the commotion, Layla trotting after him, having to work harder because of her short legs. Rounding the corner, they both stopped in their tracks.

“Who the quiznak is that?” Layla exclaimed.

It was Leandro, and he was holding off a lot of Hignua. He held a blaster in both hands, and was taking down soldiers with astoundingly accurate shots to the head, easily nailing them between the eyes through their visor gap. Akira was shocked still, his sword hanging uselessly at his side.

“Le- Leandro?” he managed to choke out.

At the sound of Akira’s voice, Leandro paused, swinging around to face him. He was sweating profusely, but his expression was hard. Even so, he managed a half-hearted smile, one side of his mouth pulling higher than the other. His eyes abruptly widened as a beam whizzed past his ear, close enough that his hair began to smolder, so he immediately turned back around.

“A little help, maybe?” he shouted over the din, jerking Akira from whatever trance he had been trapped in. He dashed forward with his sword, assaulting the barricade of guards, Layla close behind him, still shouting questions about Leandro.

He found himself surrounded, fighting back to back with her, stabbing and slashing as Leandro’s friendly fire caused havoc around them.

“So when did you meet the cute sharpshooter?” Layla called over her shoulder.

Akira jerked like he had touched an electric fence, and barely ducked a wide punch from a nearby Hignua.

“He’s our ride to the ship,” he grunted, still fighting, “And why do you care if he’s cute? Aren’t you like, twelve?”

“I’m fifteen!” she protested. Indignant.

Soon, the hallway was filled with incapacitated Hignua guards, and the three of them just stood there, staring and panting, before Layla finally spoke.

“So are you gonna introduce me or…” she trailed off.

Akira rolled his eyes and gestured between the two of them, “Layla, Leandro, Leandro this is Layla. Both of you are annoying so you’ll get along fine.”

Both of the indicated subjects began to protests, but Akira waved at them to be quiet and turned around to go and get Rowan and Dante. Ten minutes later, the entire group, now one member stronger hurried outside and into the surrounding hills. When they reached Leandro’s bike a problem soon became apparent.

“How in the multiverse are we all supposed to fit on that?” Layla exclaimed.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Rowan offered.

Leandro smiled at them, and Akira rolled his eyes at the obviously flirtatious look.

“Not to worry ladies, my bike is well equipped,” he announced, reaching around the handlebars to press a cleverly hidden button. With a rusty-sounding groan, two panels began to unfold from the sides of the bike, covering the giant fans that created the lift needed to get off the ground. When the expansion was finally complete, there was ample room for three more passengers, but no seats or seat belts in sight.

“So I usually just use this function to carry groceries, but I’m sure it can manage people as well. You’ll just have to hang on tight,” Leandro explained. He hopped into the driver’s seat, and the others helped him load Dante into the second seat, since it wouldn’t be safe for him on the extended area with his bad leg.

Finally, they were all ready and situated. Akira gave Leandro the directions to their ship, and as he pulled away, Akira let out a breath of relief. His first mission definitely hadn’t gone as planned, but he was thinking that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

[anodyne-sunflower]

The Yearbook (Part 1)-High school series

A/N: It’s here!! I also made myself the principal because, why wouldn’t I want to be? Lol Hope y'all enjoy this one, haven’t decided which one reader will end up with. 🤷🏻‍♀️

MOOD MUSIC: …Ready for it? By Taylor Swift

***

Bicycle wheels came to a screeching halt amidst the rush of new students, both freshman and seniors alike. The entire school yard was amass with fresh faces, and a chant of conversations about this past summer. None of it made any sense, and throughout the ride here neither Newt or you could come up with an even remotely good summer story to tell.

“No, no, that’s enough, Jacob.”

You turned to your best friend, watching as he fumbled around with his coat pockets and laughed weakly. He was fighting with something, clearly being on the losing side of the battle.

“Oh god, Newt! Really?! That’s exactly what got you in trouble last year.” With a roll of your eyes you climbed off your bike, kneeling down at the wheel to safely lock it to the rack. The entire way here you heard him mumbling nonsense to himself, little did you know he had once again snuck his playful little sugar glider into his pockets. It was no wonder he was known throughout the school, and not well received mind you. “You should’ve left him at home.”

“Sorry, er-Jacob!” Newt stopped mid sentence, jumping off his bike and jogging around as he clawed pathetically at his back. He shoved his suitcase to the ground, breathing a sigh of relief when he managed to pull Jacob from inside his blue coat. The tiny glider chattered it’s teeth up at Newt, making him laugh and forgive the creature for its meddling. “Alright, but this is exactly why I shouldn’t bring you anymore.”

It always amazed you at how deep a connection the student had with his pet, and while you enjoyed the company of your dog’s and cats, Newt was an entirely different breed when it came to animals. The boy might as well be Tarzan.

“Remind me why we’re friends again?”

Newt looked up from his hands with a huge grin, stuffing Jacob back into his coat pocket as he retrieved his case. “I help you with your homework.”

You chuckled at that, knowing that there was far more reasons to be Newt Scamander’s best friend. He was a very kind person, intelligent, perhaps a bit reserved but you cherished those traits about him. Made for fun times when the last bell rung and you both rode home to binge tv and eat junk food.

“Right.”

You patted your friend on the back, grabbing his coat as you began tugging him along. You both were impossibly early for your first day, and it appeared the rest of the school had the same idea. Over time that would change, by eight in the morning no one would grace these halls until the first bell rang. But, for now you both recycled your junior year activity of taking residence in the library until first period. It was always a pleasure to enjoy some silence before the hectic sound of hormonal teens filled your ears.

Or, for those aware of this school’s hierarchy, the rumbling sound of an engine that undoubtedly belonged to the richest teenager in the world. Both Newt and you stopped at the entrance of the school, eyes focusing on the black and gold sports car driving wildly through the front gates. The tires screeched along the gravel, some students screaming as they ran from the path of the car. It didn’t amaze you how reckless the driver was being, knowing fully well he probably enjoyed bringing terror to some of the people here. No one would dare stop him though, if anyone funded this school it was his parents.

“He truly does enjoy making an entrance, doesn’t he?”

You gave a half smile to Newt, nodding at his comment as you kept your eyes upon the car. It came to a halt at the parking lot, barely meeting the lines as the driver put it in park. He could at least try to be considerate to the other cars in the lot, but in true Balem fashion he wouldn’t. It was a sad truth to speak, but you were well aware of the man now exiting his vehicle, his best friend, Eddie, in tow. You were unfortunate enough to have gone to school with Balem Abrasax since the moment you could speak. He was always the most arrogant, outspoken child, never wanting anyone to get in his way. And his parents made sure to nurture that quality in him. You often wondered if he would’ve turned out kinder if not for them, especially after his father passed away. That was almost ten years ago though, and whatever friendship you had with him could no longer be salvaged. He was a decent friend while it lasted, however brief that was. You couldn’t really cherish memories from so long ago…

“Y/N?”

“Huh?” You snapped from your musings, blushing slightly as Newt observed your cloudy state. “W-What??”

Newt gave you a concerned look, his eyes darting from Balem to you over and over again. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, though he knew of your past friendship with the bully, but he always figured you had some semblance of a crush on the man. He didn’t exactly approve of it, but he was never going to interfere with your possible romantic life. Even if he felt he had reason to.

“Do you like him?”

Your blush only intensified at his question, your hand coming up to hide the obvious embarrassment you felt while you muffled out a quick no. “He’s a complete ass…” Your eyes gazed over at him, pressing the alarm button of his car as he held his one notebook to his side. He was clad in a leather jacket, along with black button up and jeans. He rarely wore any other color, often enjoying the darker shades because it made him more authoritative. You had to admit, he worked the style well, but you would never go for a guy like him. “Besides, the fact that he still excels at everything only makes it worse…” You muttered under your breath, a bit envious of all his magnificent traits. He could be a complete dick most days, but if anyone had a promising future in business here, it was him.

“If you say so.” Newt sighed, pushing Jacob back into his pocket as the principal came from inside and started greeting the students.

Everyone was excited right now, the first day of school always feeling the best, until the end of the day and you realize it was going to be another year of homework and bullshit. You just hoped it’d go by fast so winter break could come around.

“Mr. Kreezer!”

Newt and you both looked to the side, noting how Eddie was casually lighting a cigarette right on school grounds. You weren’t well acquainted with the southern teen, knowing he transferred schools only two years ago, but his reputation certainly preceded him. Within a week of starting here he started a fire in the boys bathroom, got caught skipping, and even had the balls to do drugs in chemistry. Though he seemed skilled at using the lab tools, something you weren’t sure was a good thing. The only heaven sent for him? Becoming best friends with Balem, who vouched for him on more than one occasion.

“My office. Now.” The principal groaned in frustration, rubbing at her temples already. You felt for her, wasn’t even the beginning of class, and she already had to deal with Eddie. One could venture a guess that he had some crush on her with how often he ended up in her office.

“Not even the first week and already in my office. Honestly, Mr. Kreezer….”

Balem smirked at her exhaustion, giving Eddie an amused look as he reached over and grabbed his cigarette. He threw it on the floor, crushing it under his boot as he slapped his friend on the back.

“Forgive my friend, Mrs. Sandoval. He doesn’t know any better.”

“I very much doubt that, Mr. Abrasax.” But, your principal just sighed and held both her hands up in defeat. “You’re legally allowed to smoke, Mr. Kreezer, but don’t let me catch you smoking on school grounds again. Do I make myself clear?”

The cowboy just chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he rocked on his boots. “Crystal.”

With his parents hands on the purse strings, it was no surprise Mrs. Sandoval allowed his friend to go free. Something you just rolled your eyes at and dealt with. You never adored those who got away with breaking the rules, especially when she always made it a point to punish Newt for small things in comparison to Balem and Eddie. Sometimes life really did feel like a bad movie.

“Let’s go.” You whined, trying to shove Newt into the building. Only someone managed to stop you two, bumping roughly into Newt’s shoulder and making him drop all his books.

“Hey!” You stumbled over, barely catching your friend before he hit the concrete. Newt grabbed onto your hand, blinking up in confusion as he saw Eddie and Balem standing above him.

“Oh….didn’t see you there…”

Balem smirked down at you both, shrugging his shoulders like he didn’t just cause this mess. It grated on your nerves, eyes now narrowing into slits as you rose up with your hands balled into fists. You were rarely victim to his naughty behavior, though you couldn’t say the same for Newt. These two always picked on him for his odd hobbies, and fondness for animals. What made it more infuriating was how little care Newt put into it. He acted like it was nothing the majority of the time, something that frustrated and pleased you. He was such a nice person he didn’t deserve this, but the fact that he didn’t care what others thought of him made him admirable.

“Like hell you didn’t.”

Eddie merely chuckled at your upset, opting to lean against the wall and light another cigarette as he let Balem take care of it.

“What was that, little bird?”

You froze at that nickname, a tint of red adorning your cheeks when he purred it out. That was the name he used to called you as children, a little nickname he just thought suited you back then. Ever since your friendship faded into nothing, you figured that would too. But, over the years whenever he did speak to you, he always made sure to use it. You figured it was his way of tormenting you, like he did so many others.

“Balem-”

“Yes?” He cooed out, leaning closer to you as you backed away. You knew he was messing with you, that smoldering look of his only another game to play. Practically every girl in school swooned over him, you weren’t set on being another statistic.

“I think it’d be best if you leave her alone.”

Newt got between you two, protectively covering you from Balem’s heated gaze. It only made the rich teen laugh, his hand coming up to grip Newt by the coat and shove him to the floor.

“Move, Scamander.”

“Newt!” You made to reach him, but Balem held his arm out, keeping you set within his sights. “Move, Balem!”

“And if I don’t, little bird?”

“Hey.”

Balem glanced up, an annoyed look instantly on his features when he found the only person in school he hated more than Newt standing there.

“Stephen…” He grumbled, angrily moving away from you when the track star neared you both. You hadn’t been friends long with the athlete, you only had him for a class last year but he was always a gentleman with you. He even ate lunch with you guys often, when he wasn’t busy training on the fields. He was the only one in this school not afraid of Balem, a trait you couldn’t help but smile at.

“I said leave them alone.”

“Tsk.” The rich teen scoffed, pulling fully away now before turning on the heel of his boot. Eddie just whistled, clearly impressed with the turn of events. But, he pushed off the wall and followed his friend inside, only stopping when Balem looked over his shoulder at you with an unreadable expression.

“Thank you.” You smiled, hugging Stephen quickly before he held his hand out to Newt still lying on the floor in mild confusion.

“My pleasure. Are you alright?” He looked you both over, giving you a sweet smile as he helped brush Newt off.

“Er-yes, thank you.” Newt picked up all his belongings, nodding in thanks to the track star as he waited for you to move along with him.

“Yeah, we’re fine, don’t worry. Hey, we’re going to the library for a bit, want to come?”

“Oh, no thank you. I have to see coach before first period. I’ll see you both at lunch though.”

He offered you a smile before walking away, leaving you back to stare at him in all his athletic splendor. Newt didn’t miss a beat, and followed your gaze, a frown on his lips as he tried to pry your attention elsewhere.

“The library?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah…yeah…” You cleared your throat, trying to act nonchalant even if you knew Newt saw you checking out Stephen.

“Perhaps it’s due to reaching sexual maturity, but were you looking-”

“Newt!!” You blushed madly at his words, internally wishing the guy had a filter for such things. He was always so open with those topics, thinking there was little to no difference in comparing the animal kingdom to high school. Another reason most girls here stayed away, which was a shame really. He was actually quite handsome when you thought about it.

“Come on.” You urged, pushing him playfully as you walked into the school side by side. “Don’t say things like that. I’m sure people would be more likely to be your friend if you didn’t.”

Newt simply shrugged, and with little care expressed his feelings on the matter. “Not really, people find me annoying.”

***

A/N: What did y'all think?! I love it already, it’s a trashy high school 80’s flick already….in my head. Lol 2 more characters to introduce!! Next time~

[meliecho]

Kimi no na Wa fluff needed! Taki and Mitsuha's actual first date! Disaster or success?

((Ok, for this one, I recommend listening to this on repeat.  Katawaredoki))

MUSUBI

He knew her name.  

Somehow, in that fateful moment on the stairs, she knew his as well.  But she didn’t know Taki Tachibana at all.  Or at least that’s what she thought when she walked home wrapped in a blanket of weightless fluff. Its origin confused her. Of course she didn’t know him, but at the same time, his voice, dark blue eyes, smile, physique, even the way he stood with is weight shifted slightly to his right foot were among the most familiar pieces in her life.  

Mitsuha Miyamizu made it back to her apartment, dropped her keys on the table, and flopped face down onto her bed. 

“Taki,” she mulled his name over and over.  “How do I know you?”

He’d summoned up the courage to ask her to coffee at a local cafe tomorrow.  She’d answered ‘yes’ with tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. If he’d asked her to fly to the moon, she would have agreed without hesitation in the same way –anything to keep his face always in sight, to never lose him again.

Again… 

She sat up and pressed her hand to her heart.  Had she lost him before? 

Her fingers curled into the fabric at the lingering sense from their meeting.  For the first time in eight long, difficult years, after holding her breath for an eon, she felt like she could finally exhale.  She fell back to her pillow with a wistful smile. What an amazing feeling. 

Her eyes suddenly shot open.  

“What on earth am I going to wear?!”

* * * *

The small bell attached to the cafe’s glass front door tinkled when she entered.

They’d agreed to meet around 10am. She’d taken the day off from work specifically for this reason, and told her boss that it was a personal matter. Since she’d been employed at his company for five years, she’d gained his trust a while ago, so she was granted as much time as needed without any problems. It was a relaxed office anyway –the kind where she could work in jeans and kick her shoes off.

Mitsuha scanned the room.  He wasn’t here yet.  She checked her phone for the time.  It was only ten minutes ‘till. Of course he wasn’t here, he still had time.  He wasn’t as retentive about scheduling as she was.  She chuckled softly, though paused.  It wasn’t right to make assumptions about people.  

“Hi.” 

She squeaked in shock at the sudden voice from nowhere and spun, nearly dropping her phone.  

“Sorry,” Taki apologized. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“I wasn’t scared,” she immediately defended out of natural habit.  “You just caught me off guard.” 

He smiled.  “Ok. Sorry anyway.”  He glanced around for an open table and found one near one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows curving around the dining area. “There’s a table over there.”  

They moved through the sparse morning crowd, making them feel like they were the only ones, and took their seats.  

Mitsuha peered at the menu with blinders on and tucked her index fingernail between her teeth. It was a habit she’d gained in her second year of high school for some odd reason, and never dropped it. She knew she should let it go, however it was soothing. She didn’t want to.

She was too nervous to think straight, so went with her usual order to keep things simple.  Her eyes drifted up to the man across the table, who’d taken on an identical studious pose over his own menu. They mirrored each other perfectly.  A slight giggle left her before she could stop it.  

Taki glanced over the menu.  “Hm?  Is there a joke on this menu I missed?” 

“No. I just thought I was the only one who did that. No one else in my family, and none of my friends bite their nail. I don’t know where I picked it up.”

“Huh.  I’ve kinda always done this.” He shrugged, then realized he’d become too relaxed.  “If it’s bothering you, I’ll stop.” 

“It’s fine, It actually makes me feel less weird.” She sent him a disarming slight smile. 

 Taki didn’t know why he was examining the menu so closely.  He came here all the time.  He’ll just go for his usual. It’ll be easier that way.  “I’ll have a strawberry crepe.”

Her eyebrows lifted a little.  “Me, too.  With chocolate. It’s my favorite here.” 

“Same.  I come here all the time; normally for breakfast.” 

“I can never make it until after work. This place is on my way home. They have–”

“–the best coffee,” they both said simultaneously.  

It brought their conversation to a halt.  They stared at each other for a moment, unused to someone outside of family finishing their sentences.  

Taki was the first to break it.  “Jinx! You owe me a soda.”

“What? You can’t jinx me,” she defended, enjoying the mirth of their conversation, and the bite in their retort.  “We’re on a date, you nerd.  Jinxes have no effect.”

“You made that up.” 

“Oh really.  Ok, so how are you going to prove it?”  

“I…  Well, there’s…  it’s…” air hitched in his throat, then he resigned in a soft breath.  “Ok, you win this round.  I’ll get you next time.” 

“Good luck trying,” she laughed. 

He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.  Her laughter rang like golden bells in the twilight.  

The twilight…  Thinking of it brought another word to mind he hadn’t thought of in a long time: Katawaredoki. It was in a different dialect, and it wasn’t a word he heard on a normal basis, so how did he know it? 

Their food arrived.  Taki and Mitsuha enjoyed their breakfast strawberry crepes with small talk in between about each other’s lives.  

Time flew away from them, leaving them in their own bubble of frozen infinity.  

They left the cafe, chatting about their work, their families, and their crazy friends.  The whole while, Taki felt like he was hearing these stories from an old childhood companion.  

Their meandering took them to a Lord’s Garden a couple of blocks nearby –the same one Taki’s apartment looked out over. 

They walked along a manicured dirt path beside a pond where cranes drifted lazily along the sun-sparkled waters.  

“It’s odd, but,” Mitsuha began, “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” She paused under a cherry tree. Soft, pink blossoms drifted around them. 

“Yeah. Me, too,” he agreed. He wanted to tell her he felt more comfortable around her than he did around his closest family members and friends. There’s no way that should be possible with a total stranger.  Then again, Mitsuha wasn’t a stranger anymore.  He’d known her name the day they passed on the stairs, but had no way to explain how.  

She reached out her palm to catch any wayward petals in her palm. “I love cherry blossoms; The scents on the breeze, the feeling of life it gives off.  They’re ephemeral, but every year, they keep coming back no matter what.  They kind of remind me of home.”  

“Where’s home?” He asked. 

A breath of memory followed her answer. “Itomori.”

He blinked.  That was the name of the town he was obsessed with for a while in late high school for reasons that confused him and his friends.  The sketches remained tucked into an art book on his desk.  “You’re from there?  Wow.” 

“Yeah,” she whispered.  Her fist clenched. Why was she telling him this?  Things like this were not topics to be brought up on a first date.    

Her memories of the summer comet strike were hazy, and included a black-out point for nearly the entire day before the comet struck. She could understand being traumatized by the event that wiped her home off the map –the meteor’s ground zero was her family’s ancestral shrine, after all–but the events before hand of daily life, and the shrine’s matsuri should be normal. 

That night, she’d ‘woken up’ on the road covered in scratches, not knowing why she’d run down the mountain, or why she was crying. But what left her with the largest unanswered question of her life was the mystery of who left one simple phrase written in black marker on her right palm; ‘I love you.’ 

She opened her fingers again to stare at her clean hand, clearly imagining the quickly-scrawled handwriting once more. Instead of her own voice, however, the voice that echoed through her memory…was his.  

“Are you ok?”

She’d been caught daydreaming again. How embarrassing on a first date.  She nodded and smiled.  “I’m fine.  It’s getting late. I should head home.” 

“Wow, we’ve been out here all day. I completely lost track of time.”  He cringed.  “If you had anything else planned, I…”

“It’s fine.  I had today cleared.”  

They lingered silently in each other’s presence for a few moments. Neither wanted to back away from the other.  

Taki’s chest pained at the idea of going back home to his empty apartment. 

Mitshua’s desire to always keep his face in sight fought with her will power.  

“Hey,” Taki began.  “Can I…see you again?”

Mitsuha nodded.  “I’d like that.” 

He felt relieved.  The empty apartment awaiting him instantly became a stay-over location until he could be with her once more.  A idea flared to life. “How about tomorrow? There’s going to be a cherry blossom viewing here.  They hold it every year.” 

“I know.  I watch it from my balcony.”  She pointed to a nearby apartment building at the end of the street.  “I live over there.” 

His jaw dropped.  “You’re kidding.  I live about three blocks that way,” he thumbed in the opposite direction.  “So, between us is the cafe and park.”

“Weird,” she mumbled.  “But…convenient.”   

Mitsuha thought she chose to live here because it was a close bike ride to work, when in reality, she’d been drawn to this area, this park, and this cafe.  Every time she walked through it, she felt like she was approaching a calm in her personal storm without ever finding the source no matter how many times she wandered these garden paths. 

He stood before her now, the epicenter of that calm. 

“So,” he wheedled into the stillness, nervous about asking her on a second date, “how about noon? We can get lunch, and join up with some groups from there?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  “I’m off tomorrow.  Yeah. I’ll be at the cafe. Don’t be late, ok?” 

“I still have to get you for that dodged jinx.” 

They shared a light hearted moment, lingering even more as twilight waned. 

“Well…” 

“Well…”  Taki rubbed the back of his neck.  He’d dated before, and been nervous before, but with her –even with the level of comfort he felt–he didn’t know how to end this.  Honestly, he didn’t want it to end.  Taking the initiative, he lifted her small hand in his….. and froze.  

And image of her in a school uniform looking back at him from the mirror of a traditional-style room he didn’t recognized flashed through his mind.  

She slipped her hand away and stared at him.  His face surged forward from her memory looking back at her from the mirror of a tiny apartment bedroom.  Uneasy at what just happened, she slid her foot back.  “I… I gotta go.”

“Mitsuha…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Taki.  Don’t be late,” she repeated, and jogged down the path toward her building.  

The sun set. Twilight had ended.  

Taki could still feel the warmth of her skin against his own. He was confused by what he remembered, but given hope by it as well.  

Whatever he needed to do to ensure he could see her again day after day for as long as he drew breath, he would do. 

He would not lose Mitsuha Miyamizu again. 

——–

End.

[artobsessed-writes4fun]

I Would Never Leave You

My AO3 for more works: artobsessed_writes

Keith felt awful. He had woken up with a terrible headache and a sore throat. He probably was getting sick. Dammit. He hated being sick.

Getting out of bed, he felt sluggish as he made his way into the kitchen to make coffee. Turning on the coffee pot he yawned and stretched his arms over his head, hearing his joints pop. He looked at the clock on their oven and read the time. It was 6:30 on the dot. He normally woke up around 5 so the fact that he slept in only added to his conclusion of him being sick. He sighed and opened the cabinet that had all their mugs in it. He pulled his out which was red and had a picture of a grumpy looking cat on it. It was a joke gift from Lance a few months ago, but Keith used it anyway since it was the only one big enough to hold the amount of coffee he need in the morning to function right.

After he had poured himself coffee, he went to the living room and sat on the couch. He was too achy to train like he normally did so he grabbed a book of the coffee table instead and decided to read. The apartment was quiet with Lance still asleep. His weapon never got up before 7 and even then, it was a struggle to get him out of bed. Keith liked the quiet though. It reminded him of how it used to be when he was living on his own. He never minded the solitude and was perfectly content with remaining on his own for the rest of his life. That all changed when he met Lance however and ever since then living with the Cuban boy and being surrounded by constant noise had become the norm for him. It was all Shiro’s idea anyway, making him take on a partner even though he hated working with people.  Keith had to admit, though having someone you can rely on to watch you back was nice. Not that he would ever let Lance know that, of course. It would go straight to his head and inflate his already gigantic ego.

It was around 7:15 when his weapon decided to make his way into the kitchen. Keith looked up and watched as the brunette stumbled into the room and nearly ran into every wall he encountered. Keith liked watching him like this. When he was quiet and still half asleep. It made him kind of cute. He went back to reading his book as Lance came over to sit on the couch with his own cup of coffee. If Keith could even call it that. He was pretty sure Lance put more sugar in it than coffee and just the thought of it made him feel sick. That might have also been because he was definitely sick now.

Lance sat crossed legged on the couch and sipped his coffee while turning on the T.V. He still had his headphones around his neck so he couldn’t hear the T. V.  Keith assumed he just turned it on so he had something to look at rather than the wall.

Keith got up from the couch around 7:30 to get dressed and ready for class. He didn’t want to be late again. Last time he made it to class after the bell his teacher had used him as a model for the experiment they were doing that day. He still shivers at the look in his teacher’s eye when he told the class what they were doing. If it hadn’t been for Lance stepping in and telling the teacher off Keith was almost positive he would have been another corpse on an examination table in his teacher’s lab. That was a terrifying thought. He went to his room and pulled off his shirt and pants and changed into an outfit that was more suitable for the day. He put on his red jacket, a dark t shirt and jeans. He pulled his gloves on too and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and fix his hair. Lance always made fun of him for wearing them but he liked them so he ignored his weapon like he does with most the stuff that comes out of his mouth. It didn’t take him long to get ready and he even took some cold medicine that was behind their bathroom mirror to help with his sickness. The last thing he needed was him being sick interfering with their work and getting one of them hurt.

Walking out of the bathroom he looked over to see that Lance was still on the couch watching T.V. Keith huffed and went over to him, flicking him on the head

“Ow!” Lance looked up with his clear blue eyes that made Keith’s heart melt. “What was that for?”

Keith didn’t answer him verbally and just signed to him in sign language that they needed to go now if they didn’t want to be late for class. Lance grumbled, but got off the couch anyway. He didn’t want to piss off his teacher’s any more than Keith did and it was another 15 minutes before they were both ready and leaving the apartment. Getting to school wasn’t hard. Keith’s motorcycle was fast and they only were delayed a small bit because Keith had zoned out at a red light and missed when it turned green so they had to wait for it to turned again. Lance had asked him if he was alright and Keith only grunted in response, telling him he was fine and that he didn’t need to worry.

They got to class a few seconds before the bell rang and went to their seats as quickly as they could. Pidge and Hunk were already there and looked at them with a knowing glance as they sat down. It wasn’t the first time they had cut it close with getting to school on time and Keith was no in the mood for lectures. As soon as he sat down, he leaned his seat back and kicked his legs up on the desk. He was tired, which was normal since it was early, but he felt like he had just run a marathon and then decided to swim ten laps. Their teacher walked into the class after the bell like he always does and started the lesson. Keith didn’t really pay attention though and before he knew it he had fallen asleep.

He awoke to shaking. He opened his eyes and was suddenly met with a bright smile and equally bright eyes.

“Dude, Keith. Class has been over for like the last ten minutes. You sure you’re doing alright?” His weapon asked as he went to feel his forehead, but Keith swatted his hand away. He didn’t like when people worried about him over something as stupid as a cold.

“I’m fine Lance. Just had a long night and needed to catch up on some much needed sleep.” It wasn’t a lie. He really had gone to bed late because of an assignment he had to finish before Wednesday. Lance didn’t seem convinced though and just frowned at him. It was unfair how good he looked even when he was frowning. Lance opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Pidge when she came back into the room. “How long are you two gonna flirt in here? Shiro and I checked the board and we all have a mission today. Get your butts out here and let’s go. I’m sick of waiting.” She grumbled as she turned back around and left the room. Keith stood up before Lance could continue his earlier line of questioning and grabbed his weapon’s wrist, pulling him out of the room. Lance was quiet when they made it to Shiro and Pidge, who were waiting at the front of the school, which meant that he was thinking. Keith really hated it when he started to think because as much as he called the Cuban boy an idiot he was surprisingly intuitive and picked up on most things Keith tried to hide. It was probably because they were weapon and meister. They were more in tune with each other’s mental state that anyone else, but Keith still hated it all the same.

Shiro just looked at Keith as he and Lance got on his motorcycle. He was probably wondering why Lance of all people was silent. Keith just shot him a look that said it wasn’t his fault and Lance was just being weird again. Starting up his motorcycle and kicking the kickstand up he followed Pidge, who was on her hover board and Shiro, who had his own motorcycle.

“So, what is our mission anyway?” Keith asked a few minutes later over the sound of rushing wind in his ears.

“There is a village on the outskirts of town that has been terrorized by a non-human soul. They’ve been asking for help for a while, but I guess no one had time to go check it out. The board said the creature was close to becoming a kishin which is probably why they finally sent us out.” Pidge said as she came over to ride next to Keith so he could hear her.

Well while it didn’t surprise Keith that that was the only reason they were going to help, it didn’t exactly feel good knowing that. The whole reason he was an orphan to begin with was because the school did nothing to help his village when it was attacked by a non-human soul. He had hated the school for years because of that. He still doesn’t like it but he has managed to push most of his hate away since Shiro found him and took him in. The school may have not done anything to assist his village but it became his second home because of Shiro so he has a hard time hating it now.

Keith skid his motorcycle to a halt as they got the village. It was quiet and empty. He kicked the kickstand out and got off the bike. Lance was right at his side without a word. The place may have looked empty but they could feel the soul of a corrupt human lurking somewhere around. All four of them walked into the village. There was no one around, it looked like everyone had left in a hurry. They probably did.

Looking around, Keith tried to hone in on the aura of the non-human’s soul and locate it. A sound of a broken twig behind him made him whip around. Lance was already in weapon form and in his hand. There was nothing there but Keith knew they weren’t alone. He took slow, methodical steps toward the direction he heard the sound in. He could hear Pidge transforming behind him but he didn’t look back. All of a sudden, he heard a crash and barely avoided the long hand that reached out for him from one of the house next to them. Jumping back, he watched the creature pull his hand back into the hole in made in the side of the building it was in. It then pulled its whole body out into the open. The thing was disgusting. It had four limbs but they were long and bent in awkward angles. Its neck was also long and its head was hanging upside down, swinging around wildly as the creature moved. Its abdomen was swollen and dripping some kind of liquid.

Not staring at it long in hopes it wouldn’t make him throw up, Keith aimed his gun at the creature’s head and fired rapidly. The creature raised its hand and the shots bounced off it. Damn, this is was going to be tough. He kept firing as he watched Shiro run at it with Pidge. Pidge’s weapon form was a small blade that came to a point in the middle and was attached to a hand hold so Shiro could use her like brass knuckles. She was small but she also emitted electricity when she struck. Her Resonance let her blade because huge which meant she could deal more damage. Her and Shiro made a good team since they were already in Resonance and Shiro slashed at the horrifying creature.

Unfortunately, the thing had thick skin. Even with Pidge in her full form she could barely made a scratch on it. The creature tossed Shiro back and he hit the ground hard but was up on his feet in seconds. Well this was going wonderfully, Keith thought as he backed up and jumped up onto a low roof of one of the houses. If he didn’t get a head shot, they would be fighting this thing for hours. Lining the scope on top of Lance up with his target, Keith pulled the trigger.

His shot was off though. Right before he could shoot he suddenly got super dizzy and had to brace himself with one hand on the roof so he didn’t completely fall off it.

“Keith! Hey! Are you alright?!” Lance yelled as Keith shook his head a bit to clear it. He could feel his weapon’s panic through their link.

“I’m fine Lance. Don’t worry about me, just worry about hitting that fucking thing in the head.” It probably wasn’t the best time to get mad, but Keith was irritated. Not at Lance but at himself for being so incompetent. Even if he was sick, he shouldn’t have missed a shot like that.

None of the panic that he felt from Lance went away but he ignored it and lined up his shot again. The damn thing was moving now as he looked through his scope. Shiro and Pidge were still fighting it and it was almost impossible to get a clean shot. Of course, he screws up the one time he gets a break and now he has to wait for an eternity for there to be an another opening.

Finally, after what feels like forever he gets a clean shot. Taking it as soon as he can he pulls the trigger and nails the creature right in the head. It falls on its back and fails for a minute before going completely still and limp. Thank god that was over, Keith didn’t know much longer he would have been able to hold out. As he watched the creature fall, his world began to tilt. Shit. Maybe he was sicker than he thought he was. He expected to hit the roof or worse the ground but instead he felt two arms wrap around him and pull him back before he went toppling over the edge. “God dammit Keith. If you were sick why did you just tell me? You could have gotten yourself killed!” The sound of Lance’s voice was above him but it sounded like it was coming through water. His head was so fuzzy and it hurt, the headache that he has had all day seemed to be getting worse. He felt himself being lifted but he didn’t protest. He was too tired to fight Lance so he let him carry him back to Shiro and Pidge.

Vaguely Keith realized Lance doesn’t know how to ride his motorcycle which meant that they had to leave it there. Fuck. Pidge let Lance use her hoverboard since he knew how to ride that and she got on the back of Shiro’s motorcycle. Normally Keith hated Lance’s flying, it was so uncoordinated and he always took unnecessary risks, but the way he was flying was soothing. He was just riding the wind, making sure not to jostle Keith too much. Eventually Keith fell asleep. When he woke up, he didn’t know where he was at first. They had just been fighting a non-human soul, why was he suddenly wrapped up in a thousand blankets in a bed. As he looked around the room he was in. he slowly began to remember what happened. That’s right. He passed out during a mission and Lance had to take him home. Speaking of Lance, his weapon was sitting at the foot of the bed leaning against the end post and was drawing in his sketchpad. Keith knew he worried Lance quite a bit then. The Cuban boy only drew when he was stressed about something or after one of their fights. Sitting up, he caught the brunette’s attention.

“Hey.” Keith’s voice sounded hoarse and his throat burned. He tried to smile but the look on Lance’s face made it falter slightly

“Don’t ‘Hey’ me. What the fuck were you thinking? Do you know how worried I was when I saw you fall? You can’t do that to me Keith, you just can’t!” Lance’s face was red with rage. He had put his sketchbook down and was now crawling toward Keith, jabbing him in the chest with a finger when he got closed to him. Keith didn’t say anything as Lance continued to yell, his voice was stuck in his throat.

“You could’ve died for all I know. Do you know what that means? I would have lot another meister. Another one!” Keith could see tears beginning to form in his weapons bright blue eyes.

“I wouldn’t have died. It’s just a cold.” Keith’s voice was small and quiet. He hated making his weapon worry and even worse he hated making him cry. The Cuban boy has been through enough and Keith didn’t want to add to it.

“Just a cold?! Keith, you nearly fell off a roof!” Lance’s tears were flowing down his cheeks freely now as he grabbed Keith’s shirt and pulled him forward. Keith clenched his eyes shut bracing himself for the hit Lance was sure to give him. That didn’t happen though, what happened was that he felt those same arms as before wrap around him and hold him as if he would disappear any second.

“Please, please, please. Don’t do that ever again, don’t scare me like that ever again. I couldn’t handle it if I lost you. Not just cause you’re my meister but also because you’re the most important person to me ever right now.” Lance’s voice was muffled since his face was smushed into Keith’s chest. Keith couldn’t help it, he smiled softly as he looked down at his weapon. He knew he had scared the brunette badly today but he also knew that Lance cared about him a lot. Sighing, he brought his hand up and ran it through his weapon’s hair, calming him down.

Next time he’ll make sure he takes better care of himself when he is sick. For Lance’s sake.