#anyway comfort piece drawn after a bad dream <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[unresurgeance]

So what if we do fall apart

And give into all that we are

Then let all the broken pieces shine

[maaaddiexo]

Fugitives (The Weeping Monk)

Mainlist | Serieslist

Warnings: cursing, gore

part 2/4 (4 for now; maybe more after second season release)

[part 3]

-

Y/N didn’t see or hear anything from the Weeping Monk for three weeks. Two days after their first official meeting, she saw him leave with Carden and a group of Red Paladins. None of them had returned since.

Boredly, Y/N twirled her fingers and the windchimes she hung in the windows sang in the wind she created. Ever since the Monk’s visit, her days had become even more bland and boring than before. Her dinner tray had been abandoned long ago when the sun was still far above the horizon. Now, not even the moon could shine through the thick blanket of clouds.

Y/N huffed and got up from her spot by the window to the round table in the circular room. As well as boring days, Y/N could no longer sleep. Her dreams were plagued with magical worlds beyond her cage, bright blue eyes filled with tears, and hands dripping in blood.

Art and magic were the only things in Y/N’s life that brought her comfort. Unfortunately, magic drained Y/N’s energy so she often resorted to drawing and painting to calm her forever-frayed nerves. After brewing herself a cup of tea, she lit the candles scattered all around her room and picked up a pencil. Instead of drawing the mysterious man – who she really believed to be much younger than he looked – she reached into the depths of her imagination and let her mind wander. When she opened her eyes, the candles were burning low and she had partially drawn a Fey community in a thick forest and disguised by moss and leaves from time.

Bang! Bang!

“Born in the dawn!” An unfamiliar voice whispered from the other side of the door and slammed their hand against the door again, repeating the Fey phrase.

Still bleary, Y/N stumbled to the door, tripping over her own skirts. With a flick of her wrist, the wooden lock on the outside of the door undid and she opened the door. On the other side of the door, a young boy covered in dirt and blood stood on the other side of the door. He had shaggy blonde hair and light eyes, but one was bruised and swollen shut. “Who are you?”

“Are you Y/N?”

“Do you know another girl locked in a tower?” The boy didn’t find any humour in her words, and if he did, he ignored and repeated his question. “I am. Who are you?”

“I’m Squirrel.” He lifted his hand up from his side and gave her the two measly daisies in his hand. Y/N didn’t know how she’d missed them. “I’m supposed to guve you these.”

“The Monk,” Y/N breathed. “Where is he? Is he alright?”

“In the woods. He left the Red Paladins, but he wanted to say goodbye to you first. But he’s hurt real bad. He can’t walk. So, I’m here instead.”

“You’re leaving with him?”

Squirrel nodded. “Somewhere safe. Where the Red Paladins won’t find us.”

Y/N looked back at her table – at the picture she’d fallen asleep drawing. It was the same one from her dreams. She nibbled her lower lip but then nodded firmly. Most of the Fey were dead anyways. “I’m coming with you. Give me ten minutes. Come in.”

Squirrel sat on the bed as Y/N rushed around the room and packed things into a leather sack. She knew one day she’d leave the wretched tower but not so soon. She packed the necessary herbs and items she needed and crammed a shawl into the sack.

“Ready?”

Y/N hesitated, feeling like she was forgetting something before rushing to her wardrobe and unveiled the secret panel. They’d tear the place apart upon realizing she was gone and she didn’t need them seeing the few things she kept private. She folded them up and slid them into the bursting sack before throwing on her cape. “Ready.”

Y/N couldn’t remember when she’d first climbed the tower and was unused to the dark and narrow staircase that seemed to wind down forever. When Squirrel finally pushed open the door, Y/N got her first real breath of fresh air in over a decade.

“This way,” Squirrel whispered. He ran across the open field as fast as a fox but as quiet as a leopard. Not too deep into the woods, Squirrel slowed down and in a tight cluster of trees, they came across the Weeping Monk slumped against a thick tree. He was caked in blood and dirt and sweat, and he pressed a ripped piece of cloth against his thigh, but his pressure slackened when he saw Y/N.

“What is she doing here? I told you to give her my message.”

“I did. And then she decided she wanted to come with us. Who was I to say no to a witch?”

“Are you scared of witches?”

Squirrel bristled. “My best friend’s a witch. She’s always shown she can take care of herself. I figured you could help us.” He turned to watch the Monk struggle to his feet. “Help him.”

Y/N wanted to ask what exactly it was the boy expected her to do but she knew the answer. They were all fugitives now and needed a place to lay low while the boys – mainly the Monk – healed.  Y/N looked around the woods they were concealed in even though there wasn’t much to see in the dark. “Okay. I know a place. A day’s walking west of Travern.”

“That’s almost two days from here,” the Monk gasped. A two day’s journey wasn’t long, but time they spent in the open was time they could be caught and killed.

“We’ll only travel at night though. We’ll be able to get further knowing Red Paladins won’t be looking for us.”

“Well, what do we do during the day?” Squirrel wondered.

“Sleep. We’ll take turns keeping watch. And as long as we reach Travern by dawn, I doubt the Red Paladins will be much of an issue.”

“What does that mean?”

The Monk turned his head only slightly to face Squirrel. “It means she plans on leading us into the Dark Wood.”

Squirrel stuttered for a moment, baffled by the Monk’s words. He turned to Y/N. “Are you bloody crazy?”

Y/N’s quick wit hasn’t yet run out. “Depends on who you ask.”

“The Dark Wood is full of demons and dark gods!”

“Lies,” the girl replied boredly and moved to help the Monk to his feet and then onto the large black horse. “It’s all rumours to keep the Red Paladins out of the area so that Fey can live there,”

“I’ve never heard of a village there.”

“It’s not your average village,” Y/N explained. “They don’t let just anybody in. You need to meet certain…criteria to be accepted.”

“What kinds of criteria?”

Y/N didn’t answer Squirrel and instead looked up at the Monk. “What do the Red Paladins say about the Dark Wood?”

The man juts his chin at Squirrel. “The same thing he said. They’ll take days out of their missions to avoid journeying  through it. Are you sure we should go there?”

Y/N thought back to her dreams. “I’m sure.” The Dark Wood was the only place Y/N knew they wouldn’t be sought out and the only place they could be safe. “Let’s go.”

The trek was long and uneventful. As the night went on, Y/N found herself tripping over her feet more and more and her eyes became heavy. She was grateful they didn’t run into anybody because she was sure none of them were in good enough shape to fight off Red Paladins – or worse, the Trinity Guard.

The moon and stars are hidden by clouds and the woods were completely quiet until the sky turned from a dark to a pale blue and something snapped in the distance. Squirrel, who had fallen asleep in front of the Monk on the horse, is shaken awake.

Y/N sighed. “I really hope that’s a rabbit.”

“Who’s there?” The deep, masculine voice came from the direction of the snap and Y/N’s head dropped.

“Dammit.”

“I can take him,” the Monk grunted and moved to dismount.

“You’re crazy,” Y/N remarked and instructed them to stay there and told them she’d be back. Having never gone hunting or spent much time in the woods, Y/N was loud as she approached the man, but he continuously called out for her to identify herself and so she knew where he was.

Y/N took a deep breath and steeled herself before stepping into the man’s view. Unsurprisingly, it was a Red Paladin. What was surprising to Y/N was that he was alone.

The man leered at her and showed her a full set of yellow teeth. “It’s dangerous to be alone out in the woods, little girl.”

Y/N’s hands began to tingle and glow. “I could say the same to you.” She focused on the Paladin and whispered, “Rigescunt indutae.”

The Red Paladin froze and Y/N watched his eyes go wide. His hand slackened and the heavy sword dropped to the ground. Y/N felt the energy leave her body as the magic exhausted her but forced herself to hold on a little bit longer. She made two fists and brought them together. As she pulled her fists apart and opened her hands, as if ripping a piece of paper, she yelled, “Scindo!”

Y/N felt the hot blood splatter against her face and neck, but she was falling and couldn’t find the energy to wipe the blood away. Before her eyes rolled to the back of her head, she saw the Red Paladin’s body drop to the ground in two pieces.

He’d been cleaved in half like a piece of wood.

***

The rhythmic bumping of her head against something hard woke Y/N up. She was groggy and her sight was bleary but she could see that she was on the horse.

“Stop.”

“Morning, princess.” The Monk pulled on the reins and the horse came to a halt. Y/N slid off the horse and stumbled, running into Squirrel.

“How long was I out?”

“Thirty minutes or so,” Squirrel replied. “We’re past Travern now. But we can’t stop now. Not after what you did.”

Y/N looked at the woods around them. The trees were tall and looming. Their roots sprawled through the dirt and the branches seemed to reach out, ready to snatch unsuspecting victims. Y/N shook her head. They were just rumours. Still, she didn’t feel safe standing around. She nodded and accepted the Monk’s hand to get back on the horse, this time behind him. “Okay. Let’s go.”

[part 3]

[brinconvenient]

Green Egg and Fam

You know what? I'm just gonna go ahead and do this...

So a few years back, I was talking to another trans woman who is very familiar with the DC Universe and we were trying to figure out who is Actually An Egg, and after a few suggestions back and forth, I galaxy-brained the answer. She heartily agreed and we talked about it a bit: 1. Artsy 2. Serial Monogamist who is a Relationship Disaster (Big "Do I want to Be With Her, or Be Her?" energy) 3. Becomes best friends with every ex-girlfriend 4. Noted Respecter of Women in Very Terrible and Awkward Ways 5. Chronically allergic to self-reflection and introspection, but also addicted to it in much the same way lactose intolerant people talk about how they can't give up cheese. 6. Just a complete and Utter Messy Agent of Chaos. 7. All too willing to adopt Other People's Expectations and internalize them as a Sacred Duty. 8. Just constantly Marked By Tragedy - both external and self-created.

It's Kyle Rayner, kids.

Torchbearer,

Honor Lantern,

Erstwhile Ion/avatar of the power of will

Kyle "I will be the Last of the Green Lanterns and yet keep trying to ressurect this entire Corps of Space Cops that I didn't even know existed until some Blue Dude showed up to give me jewelry and I guess marry me into the Corps? Because I guess that's just my job now and that will become my whole personality" Rayner.

After the conversation, this - the only fanfic I have literally ever written popped out of my head fully formed. It's intended to really be Chapter 1 of Several which are basically conversations between Kyle and one Ex-Girlfriend per chapter as Kyle finally accepts herself and transitions.

Eventually she reveals that the name "Ion" comes from her real name "ImOgeN" because she read Nevada and Was Impacted and she's just that extra.

But, honestly, despite getting started on the Alex chapter ages ago, I never have drawn the energy to go back and finish and/or write more, so I'm just gonna share the first chapter of what I am calling:

"Green Egg and Fam"

Putting the actual content behind the Read More because I've already rambled too long.

“It’s just exhausting, you know? Every few years it seems like I have to pick up the pieces of my life, my memory, my self and figure out who the hell I am! Every time I get a handle on things, someone or something comes along and shakes up the snow globe,y’know? I’ve tried to talk to Diana about it and, like, she’s compassionate and cares and offers sympathy, but most of the time, my whole relationship with her is just one more flake in the globe and I never know who we’re going to be to each other. Somehow, though, you’re always my favorite ex-boyfriend. It’s weird, right?”

Kyle patted Donna’s arm reassuringly. He glanced from Donna’s face to the view over Lake Michigan. There was no more beautiful view of the lakeshore than the roof of the John Hancock Building. He could just about make out the lights of the small shore towns across the lake in Michigan, and he could see the industrial Indiana towns along the round tip of the lake.

“I’m not positive I like that descriptor of our relationship, but I am happy to be some kind of constant for you,” he said with a rueful smile. “Donna, you are one of my dearest friends and I always want to be here for you. I know you didn’t need my help with Dr. Psycho here, but I’m glad I was Earthside to help you out anyway.”

They’d taken the diminutive psychic menace to the Chicago Special Crimes Unit, who had training and facilities for telepaths and telekinetics. They found this perch when Donna said she just needed a little bit to settle down before heading back to the Titans Tower in New York.

“No, I had him just about handled - a Lasso of Persuasion is pretty useful, after all - but I’m glad you swung through, all the same,” Donna said. “I’m glad to have a friend here. Psycho was really messing with my head this time. He kept dredging through my memory, pulling out bits and pieces of lives lived and people lost. He made me relive the loss of Terry and Robert and Jenny, over and over, replayed the tortures of Dark Angel, dragged me through that whole mess with the Titans of Myth, and I’m actually not sure which of any of those actually happened in this reality anymore.”

Donna’s breath was getting ragged and tears were falling down her face, twinkling in the moonlight.

“You told me about Terry and the kids when we were dating, so since I still remember them, they must still have existed and they still loved you and you still got to love them. I’m a little fuzzy on the Titans of Myth, so I can’t be sure about that stuff. But you’re here now and that’s what’s important right now. Just take a sec to enjoy this moment, this view, this night and see how you feel, ok?” he said.

They sat in the quiet, next to each other, watching the waves reflect and distort the moonbeams. Donna’s breathing calmed down and she straightened her back, half a head taller than Kyle even while sitting.

“Thank you, Kyle. I’ll be ok now, I think. I appreciate you listening. You have a good heart. If you’d only learn to actually fight without that ring, you’d make a pretty decent Amazon. Well … if you weren’t a man, of course.”

Kyle coughed and thanked the stars that Donna couldn’t see him blush. Suddenly Kyle felt like there was lava beneath his skin and he couldn’t sit comfortably.

He didn’t want Donna to catch on, so he stifled his squirming and whipped up a quick construct of a miniature green Kyle in an Amazonian uniform, breastplate, Spartan skirt and calf boots. For added effect he made sure to widen his shoulders and used Hal Jordan as a reference for a jaw far more square than Kyle’s real life chin.

“I’m not sure I can pull off the uniform. Guess I’ll stick with green and black for now. Ha!” he said. He hoped it didn't sound as forced as it felt.

“Oh I don’t know. You’ve got great legs, Kyle! Maybe you should start wearing shorts when in uniform. Besides, you had those over-the-knee boots for the longest time. I think you’d be just fine!” Donna said, laughing.

“Give me a hug, Dick just texted me to meet him in Blüdhaven. Take care and fly safe back to Oa!” she said.

After a quick, warm embrace, she turned eastward and flew off over the lake. Kyle watched her fly out of sight. He looked down and saw little Amazon Kyle, slowly spinning in the air. He drew the construct up to eye level and returned the shoulders and jaw back to his more slender and softer reality. It didn’t look that bad actually.

He’d been trying to make Donna smile, and deflect from … something before, so he exaggerated those features to highlight the incongruence, but he didn’t hate this more realistic image.

He continue to finesse the construct’s features. Like most artists, he never really considered a piece finished, he just stopped working on it. He smoothed the musculature, narrowed the shoulders a little further, pulled the hips out just a bit more, and left the waist alone. The ersatz Kyle’s face got softer still, the brow less pronounced, the nose narrower, the chin just a bit more rounded. He watched the chest muscles soften and breasts form to fill out the breastplate better.

Finally, he lengthened the construct’s hair to shoulder length, adding some wave and curls like Donna’s somehow-always-perfect hair.

And there she was. The woman who’d been haunting Kyle’s dreams as long as he could remember. Slowly spinning in the air was a woman who could easily have been Kyle’s sister, wearing Amazonian garb (or at least what he remembered from seeing Donna’s while they were dating so many years ago).

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he started fiddling with the image, and he didn’t know how long he’d spent staring at the final form. Sister. Yeah, right.

With an angry wave he flashed his hand through the construct, dissolving and dispersing the light particles that he’d given form. He hastily looked around the roof to make sure no one had seen him or, specifically, seen the construct. The burning sensation of shame returned instantly and he immediately flew into the sky until the buildings looked like so many light-speckled building blocks.

He took himself through a calming exercise he learned from Kilowog to help him center himself and sling his ring “like he wasn’t a complete Poozer and deserved to wear it.” Kilowog had no appreciation for just how hard it was for other people to feel calm when he was around. Still, Kyle found it helped when the pink giant wasn’t breathing down his neck.

“My will is strong enough to carry the torch for the entire Green Lantern Corps, I can stop these feelings. I can make all of these thoughts go away. I can stop this. I’ve got too much responsibility to keep indulging this … this nonsense” he thought, trying to ignore the sting of the tears fighting their way free to fall down his face, ignore the pain in his heart.

“I don’t want to lose my friends - what would Donna say? Would she think I was a pervert, or making fun of her somehow? I definitely don’t want to lose Hal’s and the guys’ respect. I don’t want to lose my whole life just because I’m some kind of freak. Get it together, Rayner. No one else is feeling sorry for themselves because they don’t fit in.”

He pulled a hand down his face and pointed his right fist with it’s gaudy, shining green ring on the middle finger toward the Milky Way and flew into space. He hoped the cold solitude of the transluminal conduits would help him regain his composure before he faced Guy, Hal, John and Kilowog for the Honor Lantern meeting. For the millionth time, he wished he could just be more like them, have just a sliver of their easy and effortless masculinity. They made it look so simple.

“Bet they don’t spend half their life trying to figure out what is wrong with them,” he thought. He tried so hard not to envy them, but it was really hard sometimes.

Especially nights like tonight where his resolve had failed him yet again and he gave in to his most hidden thoughts. He entered the transluminal conduit between Saturn and Jupiter and closed his eyes.

He traveled faster than light, but it still took time to reach Oa, so he tried to sleep and hoped that his dreams wouldn’t betray him again.

[olivinesea]

Space Is Only Noise If You Can See, pt.3

Part 1 Part 2

a/n: Surprise! Next part’s here. A bit shorter but no less traumatic so don’t get comfortable. TW major character death, guns, suicide, violence, you’ve got the picture. I’ll do my best to get the final part to you in a timely manner. ~2k

The hits keep coming.

The street was quiet when he got there thirty minutes later. No ambulance or police with their colors flashing across the front of the house. He thought it was odd but it barely registered when everything in his life was a little off. He ran up to the front door and found it slightly ajar. He pushed it open cautiously, uncertain what he would be met with on the other side. It had grown dark, the sun replaced by much weaker street lamps. He felt around for the light switch, knowing he would regret this action.

He sucked in a breath when the shadows were lifted, every gruesome detail just as he remembered. The blood. There was so much blood. He reached up a hand to wipe it away from his eyes. He was numb, unable to look at anything but Morgan’s body, cold and lifeless on the floor. The scene replayed again, this time in Morgan’s entryway, the setting a little different, the results all the same. He had never been able to save them.

The thought of the others, the rest of his team who he’d watched get murdered hundreds of times, reminded him that JJ was there. She had called him, that was why he was here, not a case, not a killer. He wanted to call out for her but it felt wrong to raise his voice in such close proximity to this horror. Instead he carefully stepped around his friend, not looking for fear he would fall to his knees and try to force the life back where it belonged. If he could bring Derek back by returning every drop of blood to the emptied veins, he would spend eternity gathering what had been spilled. If only the world allowed for that kind of trade.

He made it around to the kitchen but found it empty, as were the other rooms on this floor. While he searched he called 911. He didn’t understand why they weren’t there yet, they should be there by now. When he questioned them, the dispatcher told him there’d been no reports made about that address. He quickly relayed the basic details, even more eager to find JJ and discover what had happened between her call and his arrival. He frowned as he hung up, confused. As a precaution, he pulled his gun from its holster, nerves lighting up. JJ wouldn’t have left surely. He crossed the hallway again, this time heading for the stairs. He didn’t know why, there was no reason for her to have gone up there. But there was no reason for any of this. So he climbed to the second floor, placing each footstep carefully on the polished hardwood.

He found her in the master bedroom, curled up on Derek’s king-sized bed, her back to him. The relief he felt upon seeing her dissipated quickly. Something about her form was too still. He approached, apprehensive but also hopeful that the room might dissolve around him at any moment. This had the same feeling as his nightmares, perhaps it was only that. He'd never hoped more that his mind was tricking him.

As soon as he touched her shoulder, he knew. Everything was wrong. The weight of his hand made her body fall back until she was face up, head resting on the pillows. Her blue eyes were open, blonde hair loose around her, some of it caught across her face. He brushed it back, feeling the chill of her skin, the precious warmth already fled. There was no blood but he spotted an empty pill bottle in her hand. His mind fought against what he was seeing, so far from the correct order of things. She had only called him half an hour ago. How was there even time for this to occur? He pulled the bottle from her hand and felt the world spin faster. He blinked, chasing away the errant lines crossing his vision but the words on the label remained the same. The block type informed him that it once held opioids prescribed to one Aaron Hotchner.

He couldn’t imagine how it had ended up here, couldn’t even remember when he had gotten the prescription. It could have been after any number of injuries. He never took more than one or two before his body reminded him how sick they made him feel. The pain relief was never worth the sweating weakness and nausea that accompanied it. He usually tried to decline when they were offered but somehow he regularly ended up with one or two bottles mixed in with his too large assortment of other medications. He worried about it, knowing Jack was getting older, getting taller, might become curious about such things. He knew it was irresponsible to have narcotics he was not keeping track of somewhere as accessible as his medicine cabinet. But he never imagined this would be the consequence of that uncharacteristic lapse in judgement.

He stared at the small orange bottle, dwarfed by his hand. He didn’t know what to do with this information, had no idea how to process its meaning. Stunned he backed out of the room, out of the house completely. Everything he found inside there was upside-down and he needed air. He stood on the porch, looking vacantly out at the street, gun in one hand, death in the other. He rubbed the bottle continuously with his thumb as the ambulance and cop cars began arriving. His thumb caught a little every time it met the edge of the lid, scraping his skin against it, trying to remember when he even got it. When it disappeared.

An officer approached, weapon drawn, demanding he identify himself, wary of the gun dangling from the large man’s fingers. With effort, Hotch focused his eyes on the stranger, distantly registered the man’s anxiety. He gave his name and slowly moved to pull out his credentials. Hotch tried to answer his questions but all he could remember was Morgan getting shot by Mr. Scratch. Or did he shoot him? His words veered into incoherence and the officer became alarmed. If he hadn’t seen the man’s badge, he’d have a hard time believing this was BAU Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner.

“Sir? Were you injured? I think you need to get checked by the medics,” he said. He took Hotch’s gun from him and steered him in the direction of the ambulance. Hotch didn’t mind him taking the gun, what good was it? His gun couldn’t protect him from the phantom tearing through his life, destroying everything that was good. He doubted a medic could help either.

Hotch was sitting on the bumper of an ambulance, continuing to ruminate when Dave arrived. The medic, after determining there was no physical injury to the man, left him there with instructions to stay put until someone came for him. Hotch hadn’t thought about who was listed as his emergency contact.

“Aaron! What happened?”

Hotch looked at him with wild eyes. He was terrified for Dave, certain now that this was the dream come true. Peter Lewis had gotten inside not only his mind but his life and was ripping the pieces apart slowly.

“Dave you can’t be here! You have to go,” he stood up and put his hands on Rossi’s chest, as if to push him away. Dave grabbed his wrists, eyebrows drawn together, confused by this reaction. Hotch curled his hands into fists and ducked his head. “Please,” he begged, “please Dave, it’s not safe.”

“Aaron, look at me.” Anticipating a bad reaction but doing it anyway, Rossi took hold of his face with both hands and forced the other man to meet his eyes. “What is going on?”

But Hotch was past reason by this point. The words he got out didn’t make sense to Rossi who only heard snippets about coffins and blood and Scratch—but that case was months ago, surely this was unrelated. He didn’t like to think that Hotch had been hiding something about that night for this long but he wouldn’t be surprised by it either. He thought about how Hotch’s confusion had lingered long after the doctors said the drugs’ effects should have worn off. How he had stopped asking for confirmation of details from that night yet he would occasionally lose focus, be half a step behind in conversation.

Rossi looked quickly over at the house, now swarming with officials, drawn to the crime scene like summer moths to lamps. He wasn’t needed here and Hotch very much needed to be somewhere else right now. Dave didn’t know what was happening in his friend’s mind but he knew the chaos of the scene around them wasn’t helping. He waved over an EMT to inform them he would be taking Agent Hotchner home, would ensure his safety. The medic gave no argument, there was nothing wrong with the man that they could see, only that he might be in some sort of shock over finding his colleague’s body. There was no reason for him to be their responsibility, they were happy enough to let someone else take over.

Rossi managed to lead Hotch back to the SUV, even more concerned by the fact that he didn’t resist being guided by a hand on his back. Didn’t try to shrug off the outward expression of concern. If Aaron was too distracted to notice physical contact, something was urgently wrong. Dave thought about this as he opened the door and gently pushed the other man into the passenger seat, giving non-committal responses to Hotch’s continued warnings that he needed to get away, that he needed to get everyone away.

“Put on your seatbelt,” he instructed after getting in himself and seeing it was still undone. Hotch stared at him blankly and he had to actually reach across and grab the restraint for him. Thought it bruised his heart, Dave ignored the way Aaron recoiled from his sudden nearness. He hated to see this side of Hotch, it reminded him how hard the man must work all the time to suppress his reactions, how much effort he went through to hide parts of himself he deemed unacceptable.

He straightened up and secured his own seatbelt before turning the key. He paused, not sure where to take them. Hotch was quiet now, seeming to be lost in the lights that danced across the front of Derek’s house. Dave decided to call Garcia, to update her and see if she had any updates for him. He had rushed from the office after receiving a call from a worried officer about one Agent Hotchner found disoriented at a crime scene. There had been little time to share details. Dave tried not to think about how he was using the term “crime scene” to describe Morgan’s home.

Rossi put his phone on speaker as he shifted into drive. He decided the first stop should be to Aaron’s apartment to check on Jack and see if he could get the man to calm down enough to make some sense. As soon as Garcia answered, he regretted calling her. She was in a panic, news of what had been found had reached her. Normally able to work, even through big emotions, this was all too much for Penelope. She was nearly as incoherent as Hotch was when he’d found him.

“Okay, okay, listen Penelope. I’ve got Hotch, I’m taking him home. Why don’t you call Emily? She’s supposed to have landed by now I think,” Dave was trying his best to stay patient. Honestly, he didn’t know what any of them should do but this manageable instruction seemed to calm Garcia a little.

She sniffled. “Emily, right, of course. I’ll call her right now, sir.”

“Great, thank you Penelope. Let’s just try to stay focused on getting everyone safe. I’ll call you when we get to Hotch’s place.”

“H-how is he? How are you?”

Dave looked over at Hotch who was still quietly brooding. Rossi could almost hear Hotch’s thoughts racing, trying to find a way to get ahead of whatever was happening. It was actually encouraging, he seemed more lucid than before. Dave opened his mouth to tell Garcia everything with them was alright for the moment. But that was the moment a truck slammed into the driver’s side door, sending the SUV spinning wildly through the intersection.

~Part 4~

[wolfcha1k]

Flood and Flame /// Guy x Eep Fanfic

"You're the fire and the flood

And I'll always feel you in my blood

Everything is fine

When your hand is resting next to mine

Next to mine

You're the fire and the flood"

"Something wrong?" Guy inquired.

She shook her head before resting it on his shoulder, getting comfortable. "No, not really," Eep told him, seeing he didn't look convinced despite all she could really see was the curve of his jawline. "What about you? I have a feeling that it's not just itchy feet bothering you tonight." 

Guy and Eep take some time to sort out their feelings, surviving The End of the World itself can take its toll. There's also matters of the heart... /// Guy x Eep /// Post!Croods but before A New Age ///

You can also read it on Ao3 or FF.net here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494047

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13821005/1/Flood-and-Flame

- <3 -

Author's Note: I'm always fascinated by the development of Guy and Eep's relationship that we don't see leading into "A New Age", since they start off rather new to each other. I also like to explore just how the family processed surviving The End since I'd imagine that was a very traumatizing experience. Especially for Eep who had nearly lost both her father and Guy during all that, two people she cares deeply for. So this is a little "what if" into that scenario.

This is also just a little distraction from "A Tomorrow of Our Own" as I sort through my writer's block. I had wanted to post this before Valentine's Day hit but what can you do, can't rush quality. The picture here was drawn by me and I hope you like the story and artwork. Some warning, kinda steamyish near the end, skip right to it or over it, your choice. If it makes anyone feel anything, then I did my job despite my virgin awkward boyfriendless ass feeling differently, haha. Ngl, took me several days just to write the kiss because I got so much second hand embarrassment yall gotta read that.

Eep couldn't sleep but then again, how could you catch a wink after surviving The End of the World itself? Her blood was still pounding in between her ears and it thrummed through her veins. The energy hummed under her skin, desperate to burst alongside the burning that sent her nerves ablaze. It was barely a few short hours ago they'd outlasted certain death. For those short moments, all had seemed lost.

In-between the restless twisting and turning amongst the sleep pile, Eep gave up trying to sleep. The dark around her didn't help matters much, even if Eep prided herself in her courage. She hunted for light all her life, eyes drifting towards the remains of the embers that still glowed upon the ground. It gave little comfort.

Her father's words echoed in her memory, the whole ordeal still fresh as a wound. Never be afraid.

Perhaps it was easier said than done, green gaze finding the hulking mass of fur and muscle that was Grug. She almost lost her father without never telling him she loved him. It haunted her when she waited on the other side of that chasm, bordering The End and waiting for a response she knew was never coming. The anxiety came like an unwelcome stranger, knocking persistently at her skull. Giving a soft frustrated groan, she sat up and crossed her arms.

She looked up at the moon and the night sky that held all the Tomorrows, the sleeping suns shining like beacons of hope. Eep tried laying down again, cuddling close to a nearby snoring mass she assumed was her little brother Thunk. There was Chunky's loud rumbling purr, Gran's thunderous snoring and Ugga's gentle murmuring to seek comfort from. She counted each breath, in and out and shut her eyes… How did the tiger fly? Her voice echoed, reminding her of caves and the canyon that once defined her existence.

And then he stumbled into her life, well, more like she pushed her way into his with persistence rivaling the most stubborn of beasts. He held the sun in his hands and showed her there was more than darkness. She jumped on the sun and rode it to Tomorrow.

Her nerves, taut as a bowstring, nagged for release. Like the tiger in Guy's tale, she was ready to fly.

I gotta move around, she thought. Eep gave one last look at her slumbering family silhouetted in the darkness. Instinct was something she knew innately, it kept her alive.

She wiggled free of the tangled bodies around her, rolling onto her hands and knees. Eep quickly felt the crisp night time chill turn her skin to goose flesh. She shivered, partially regretting the choice to leave the warm safety of the family sleep pile. Her body was too tense for sleep though, reminding Eep of the static feeling the air got before lightning struck.

She shrugged the feeling off and like a cat on the prowl began to creep away from the slumbering clan. Eep made distance and in-between trotting along her knuckles, she sprang up onto the balls of her feet gracefully. Muscles rippling under her tanned skin, she just let loose. The lush green jungle and its many colorful flowers rushed past her in a blur of color. Breaking into a run once Eep knew she was far enough away not to make noise, she relished in the freedom the night brought her. Eep breathed in the air deeply, feeling it expand her lungs and suddenly the cold of it felt good in comparison.

Her feet carried her towards the edge of the jungle, white sand expanding far as the eye could see. The ocean was shining bright, so blue she wondered if it was even real. The moonlight reflecting on the ocean called to her in a whisper yet was loud enough to deafen her ears. Eep wondered perhaps if she dipped her hands into the water she would scoop up a shard of the moon. Eep paused at the edge of the treeline. A familiar scent blew in on the breeze upwind, Eep flaring her nostrils.

Guy, she would recognize his scent anywhere. He smelled of wind and freedom, like innovation and firewood. He was also tinged in ash from The End and the burning scent of the tar he'd been stuck in with her father. It was thick and pungent, making her tense. Again it reminded her how close she had nearly lost everything. Eep without another thought was quick to seek him out, a part of her worried about him being alone out here.

It was silly to worry, there was no danger here now. Besides, Guy had survived alone long before he ever met her and her family. However she couldn't shake it, especially when today she saw him lose hope in that moment. Guy was a dreamer and always knew how to escape the worst of dire situations. Full of ideas that seemed endless, he'd had no solution to when the earth broke into pieces around them. It had broken her heart seeing him like that, all her faith was on him and she'd never thought he could lose that spark.

It didn't make her regret the journey though, she would have always followed him to The Ends of the earth. Despite how short she'd known him, it felt like forever somehow. Were soulmates real? She hoped so.

Come with me.

She found him quickly thanks to her keen sense of smell. Seated on a tall rock on the shore, his back was to her. His knees were curled up to his chest, long arms wrapped around him. Eep crept towards him and he perked at the sound. He turned his head, squinting to see passed the dark. He relaxed when he realized it was not danger, a sigh rattling his thin, lanky frame. His smile could radiate light as he gave her one. It made her insides melt.

"Hey," he greeted, already scooting over to give her a spot on his lonely little ledge.

She didn't hesitate to plop herself next to him, quickly cozying herself into his side. "Hey you," she chirped back.

Guy didn't seem to mind the affection, if anything he was just as eager to meet her half way. He leaned his head comfortably against her temple, breathing in her scent.

"What are you doing up?" Eep asked him after several moments, needing the time to enjoy having him to herself for once. It was one of the first real time being alone together since getting stuck in the canyon.

"Just wanted to explore a bit, I couldn't sleep," he told her, turning his face to nuzzle her cheek. If Eep were a cat, she would have purred at the affection. "What about you?"

"I'm too wound up I think," she said. "I can't sit still for long anyway."

He chuckled fondly, pulling away to look at her. Eep practically whined at the loss of contact, looking into his eyes. "You do have a severe case of wanderlust, I must be contagious."

"Hey, so long as it's not the common cold I'm good."

"I'd never want to make you sick," Guy promised her. "I'm healthy as a horse fly, I swear."

Lovesick seemed to be a fitting description though, Eep batting her eyelashes as she swooned at his affection. He grinned at her.

"How did you find me?" He asked her suddenly, returning to nuzzle the soft skin of her cheek and jaw.

"I sniffed you out," she exclaimed, sounding proud of herself.

"Do I really smell that weird to you?" Guy teased her, gently lifting a finger to boop her on the nose. She went cross eyed, amused.

"A bit, I've gotten used to it though," she teased right back.

He gave her a lopsided boyish smile at that, chuckling low in his throat. Guy made himself more comfortable on his perch on the ledging. Eep watched Guy turn away from her to look towards the sky, his brows furrowed. Something seemed to be on his mind, Eep's curiosity pricked under her skin and she shuffled her weight. Feeling her shift, Guy turned back to her, questioning.

"Something wrong?" Guy inquired.

She shook her head before resting it on his shoulder, getting comfortable. "No, not really," Eep told him, seeing he didn't look convinced despite all she could really see was the curve of his jawline. "What about you? I have a feeling that it's not just itchy feet bothering you tonight."

He sighed, merely cuddling her warm body as he put an arm behind her back. "Bad dream," he confessed at last, looking up at the slumbering suns above them again. Guy's face was solemnly drawn, forlorn as seemed to search the heavens for answers. "Today was a lot."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, mind blanking as she thought back to what had happened just barely a day ago now.

Eep looked at her arm where a fresh wound was, the blood long since dried. She'd gotten it after Grug threw her across the chasm, her bicep had grazed a sharp rock when she landed. Eep had a feeling it would scar, it wasn't like she was scared or ashamed of those though.

This one though felt different, sure, she had survived but it'd been a horrifying day. It was something that would take time to forget and feel pride in.

Guy followed her eyes and gently nudged her, drawing her from her thoughts. "What about you?" He echoed the question. "I know it's not only me who's reflecting."

"What is there really to say?" She shut her eyes, returning to the darkness that had suffocated them in dirt and ash. "I nearly lost my dad." We all almost died.

They fell into a tense silence as both Eep and Guy continued to digest all that they'd experienced today. Guy idly peeled at a piece of dried tar he couldn't wash off successfully with his finger nail. She lifted her head a little and Eep watched him, green eyes flickering between his face and the splotch of black tar.

"I know the feeling," he murmured at last and he hesitated a long moment, steeling himself as he lowered his head. "I… um… I lost my parents when I was a little boy."

Eep drew away to properly look at his face, seeing the old hurt there. He wouldn't look at her, trapped somewhere in his mind she was unable to follow. She reached out to cup his cheek to turn his head towards her, rubbing her thumb tenderly against his face.

He leaned into her touch, lifting his hand to cover hers. He pulled it away slightly in order to press his nose into her calloused palm, a gesture of deep fondness amongst cave people. Did he know that? Eep wondered. It made her ears burn despite the weight of what they were talking about.

"Guy… I'm sorry," she said finally, it was the only thing she could really say. It had been an obvious conclusion for why he was alone, so young yet wise beyond his years. His experience spoke volumes of the world he had to face.

She once couldn't imagine living without her father, no matter how much Grug frustrated and smothered her. After today she knew though at last and it was the worst feeling in the entire universe, no kind of wound she'd ever gotten could come close to comparing to it.

"The tar pit with your dad really picked at an old wound for me," he went on, voice beginning to warble a little. "They had drowned in that stuff. I guess… I guess I wasn't as over it as I thought I was. I can't forget that awful smell, it suffocates you."

Eep didn't think it was a thing you could get over, part of her didn't want to meet the person who had forgotten it that easily. She wasn't sure what to say so instead she wrapped an arm around his waist, hoping her presence would be enough comfort.

"I'm not alone anymore though," Guy continued despite how sad his voice sounded. "I got you and your family now."

"And Belt," she added helpfully and it made him smile a little bit as waned as it was.

"And Belt," he agreed. "I think my family would have wanted me to go on this crazy road trip with you."

"Log ride and all?"

"Maybe sans the log ride," Guy admitted, twisting his face up in a pout. Eep pulled him closer so she could hug him better.

They fell into a companionable silence for a time, listening to the wind as it blew over the beach. Her thoughts wandered again to places she didn't want it to go, that buzzing unused energy beneath her skin returning with a vengeance.

Eep knew thinking about things wasn't going to be helpful for either of them, her gaze jumping between Guy and the ocean. The tide rumbled softly as it eased in and out along the coastline. She tugged on his elbow, gesturing with her head in the direction of the ocean.

"Wanna go for a swim?" Eep asked, knowing the shift in topic would be welcome. They would drown their fears in the water. She idly flexed her muscles in preparation of the activity to come.

His expression lightened despite his eyes still looking sad. It was progress at least. "Yeah, sure," he relented with a small smile.

Eep beamed at him in girlish glee, separating herself from his side to spring to her feet. "Last one in is a rotten egg!" She shot off, leaping off the ledge onto the sand gracefully.

Guy scrambled to rush after her and nearly fell face first off the rock, calling out accusingly, "Hey! That's cheating, Eep!"

"No, you're just a sore loser!" She called back, turning around as she ran backwards a moment. She saw him running as fast as he could, long legs extending forward and back. Eep made it to the shore line and leaped into it in a cannonball, climbing a nearby series of rocks as a kind of diving board.

There was a dark shape distorted on the surface of the water before suddenly it crashed down after her. Eep moved to avoid being crushed and saw it was Guy. He grinned at her, paddling about skillfully. Eep was still learning this whole swimming thing, he was like a swan to water compared to her. They were deep enough that they could see the bottom yet not far enough for it to be a problem returning back above the sea. She swam after him when he went further down, showing her some coral and undersea plants that were eye candy. Some fish swam passed them, their scales rainbowy and glistening in the lowlight.

Her lungs began to burn for air and she could see Guy was beginning to feel the effects too, for he started upwards with a strike of his feet to the sea floor. Eep could see the mottled light shining above her on the water, casting the belly of the sea in an ethereal sort of glow. She kicked her feet down, paddling her way up to the surface with a gasp. She moved a clump of wet hair out of her eyes, grinning when she saw Guy resurfacing next.

She splashed him merrily, Guy lifting his arms in a feeble attempt to protect himself. He swatted water back at her afterwards childishly, Eep giggling as she began to crocopup paddle away from him. Guy followed her, easily cutting her off to dunk her when he grabbed her around the shoulders. Eep sputtered as she resurfaced, seeing the wide mischievous grin on his face.

"Two can play at that game!" Eep declared, sucking in a breath dramatically before diving back down.

She could see Guy's body twist and turn as he attempted to peer down to see what she was doing. Eep swam under him and hefted him onto her shoulders, she heard his surprised gasp as he clutched around her neck for support. She promptly tossed him head over feet before scrambling to the nearby rocks again before he could get her back.

His head popped up above the sealine, Guy wiping his face away the water and spitting salt from his mouth. He looked around for her before his dark eyes found her standing proudly on the rocks.

"What are you doing now?" Guy asked her, swimming near her suspiciously.

"I'm the queen of the rocks!" Eep called out, puffing her chest out. "And you're the dirty dung beetle," she added, her teeth shining from her wide playful smile.

"I'll show you who's the dirty dung beetle," he said, beginning to climb the rocks after her.

Eep pounced to a higher one as he got closer, her balance better than his as she lowered onto all fours. "You gotta try harder than that to dethrone me, Guy."

Guy scrambled on the wet slippery stones but found his balance before he could plummet back into the ocean. He got to her perch and the two of them began to wrestle for the spot, Eep getting him into a headlock as his arms went around her torso.

He attempted to shove her with all his might, looking rather pathetic as he went red in the face from exertion. "You're like a rock!"

"Complimenting me won't get you anywhere!" She shifted her weight, ready to throw him.

He saw an opening and Guy swept his leg against hers, forcing her to stumble as her foot slid from underneath her. Suddenly, Eep lost her footing and yelping out loud began to fall. She didn't release him, if she was going down he was going down with her. Guy gave a similar shout and the two crashed in a heap into the water.

He let go of her and Eep loosened her grip from around his neck as the two swam back to the surface, gasping for air. Eep pulled him up with her, arms loosely draped on his shoulders and back. Guy had a sopping mop of hair drooping over his forehead and eyes, his smile wide. "I win."

"That was hardly a fair victory," Eep accused him without any real bite, lightly kicking his leg. "You fought dirty!"

"You're just a sore loser," he teased her, echoing what she'd called him earlier.

She just huffed, floating there with him. She looked at his face, amused. He looked so funny with his hair covering most of his face, it reminded her of the shaggy mop sabrebunnies had. She was suddenly hyper aware of how close together they were, his face nearly touching hers as his breath came out huffing. She could feel it fan her lips and a chill that wasn't just the cold this time made her shiver. His torso pressed against hers, their knees touching and chests close together.

It reminded her of when they'd set the trap together back in the tundra with the weird rocks. They had gotten tangled together like this before, faces touching and limbs ensnared tightly. This time there was no turkeyfish or Grug to break the tension.

She swallowed, her throat felt tight. Guy brushed aside the hair from his eyes, his laughter stilled and the smile on his face fell away slowly. His eyes fell to her lips for a moment. He suddenly realized their position but he made no move to pull away.

"Eep?"

She felt like she had butterflies inside her stomach yet somehow it didn't seem to matter at all right now. Eep only wanted to hear him say her name again like that, softly and wrapped with warmth. Only he could make her name sound like one of the most beautiful things in the world.

"Yeah, Guy?" It took her a moment for her brain to catch up to reply, she wondered if she sounded as breathless as she felt.

He was quiet, a seriousness she wasn't quite used to seeing when she thought of Guy. He was usually so goofy and strange, in a good way, of course. It was easier on her nerves though when he was stammering and a little nervous of her. Now she was the one feeling a little frightened but she also couldn't care less about that right now. It was a fear that reminded her of when she tried something new, nervous energy that fell away into satisfaction when it proved her fears wrong.

"I think I love you," he confessed after hesitating, needing to collect his thoughts. His words were soft and gentle, the fondness there even without him directly telling her. They came out of nowhere practically, yet it just felt right. Guy gauged her expression which must have been surprised because he reached for her hand as it trembled. "Are you okay?"

"It's just the cold," she mumbled with a sheepish look, attempting to ignore the gooseflesh erupting across her skin. Eep smiled.

He seemed as nervous as she was, resting her palm on his chest and covering her hand entirely. His heart was thundering under her fingers and he shivered. She felt it through her hand and arm, Eep blinked at him with concern. "Just the cold," Guy murmured back with a small grin.

"My heart feels like that too," she chuckled, shutting her eyes tight as she sucked in a deep breath. "Is that normal?"

"Yeah, it is," Guy assured her, squeezing her hand with a gentleness she wasn't accustomed to. Used to rough handling, it was something she was still adjusting to. "Least I think so. I've never… felt like this before."

"Okay," Eep murmured. "Hey, um, can I…?"

"Can you…?" He encouraged her softly.

She decided it was easier to just do it than elaborate what she wanted because something about it felt too intense to put into her voice. She forgot what words were but that was okay, they seemed unneeded. Not thinking was becoming easier, Eep closed the distance between them, not that there was much left to begin with anyway. She pressed her forehead against his, holding her breath as she waited for his reaction. He was so warm, his breath stuttering against her lips at the contact.

He was tense under her touch for a moment before relaxing, brushing his nose against hers as he tilted his head at a more comfortable angle. His touch thrilled her, a feeling she'd never experienced before until meeting him. Nobody had ever touched her like this, vulnerable and intimate. It was a long drawn out moment, Eep hearing the soft exhale of his breath.

"You need to breathe, Eep," Guy reminded her in a low voice.

"Oh," she managed to say, sounding rather pathetic as she let it out.

Guy nuzzled his nose against hers, brow against brow. "I like this."

Eep found what she wanted to say again, pressing her palm against his heart. His fingers tightened around hers. His pulse raced under her, pounding like thunder in a storm. It fueled her resolve and gave her relief that her feelings weren't something fleeting. It wasn't just because Guy was new that he fascinated her endlessly, her feelings ran deeper than that. "I... I think I love you too, Guy."

There was a hitch in his voice. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They breathed together for what felt like forever, his breath fanning her face. Guy moved, she felt it in the water around them. Eyes still closed, they widened when she felt the gentle press of something against her lips. His fingers brushed along her jawline tenderly, tilting her head further. A rush of heat made her skin feel more alive than it ever had before, touched by sunlight and fire all at once. It burned her blood and pounded in between her ears. His mouth moved against hers, each movement making her heart skip a beat. He pulled the slightest bit away, lips hovering above hers. His chest heaved a bit as he caught his second wind, Eep realized she was just as bad. It felt like the rush she got from hunting or when he taught her something new, invigorating and alive. Guy seemed to be waiting for something, what that something was, Eep wasn't sure.

A shiver ran down her spine despite how warm her entire body felt, Eep gathered her resolve. She leaned back towards him, hesitating for a heartbeat before tentatively closing the distance between them. He pulled her closer, which was somewhat difficult due to being in the water. He let go of her hand to tangle his fingers in her hair, Eep stroking the indentation between his pectorals. He trembled like a leaf under her touch as it roved over his skin, her hands moving from his chest to his shoulders, kneading the sinewy muscle there. His hand gently stroked the slope of her neck and down her muscular back, tracing scars in a awed sort of way, like she was precious.

She felt the soft flicker of his tongue against her lower lip and she couldn't help but startle, pulling back the slightest breath away. He didn't chase after her lips, just shut his eyes and breathed out a long, drown out exhale like he was pained. Her face leaned closer to his again and shyly she copied him, gliding her tongue along his lip to show her what he wanted.

And show her he did, tentative and gentle as always when he sensed her hesitation. He would never push her, though once Eep found her courage, she turned the tides on him with her typical ferocity. Guy gave a sound that was nearly a growl, thrilling her. She'd never been wanted before, her palm cradling his cheek. Her other arm went to wrap around his neck as his hand fell to squeeze her waist. He gripped the furs at her hips, pulling her closer yet still feeling too far away. She wanted him closer, like prey being hunted she felt cornered but it was exciting. Emotions she never knew before raged within her, Eep couldn't help but whimper against his lips as they spiraled down.

He paused, pulling away at the sound to take in her flushed face. His chest heaved, Eep feeling it more so than hearing it now. "Are you okay? I'm um… sorry." Guy was suddenly sheepish.

"I think I forgot how to breathe," she said between breaths, exhilarated.

He swallowed thickly, gathering his wits as he gently pushed her away. "Me too." The words seemed to remind him what was at stake here, that there was more than the burning in their blood.

The distance helped her heart time to finally stop its frantic beating. It found itself a much more manageable rhythm, one that thankfully didn't make her feel like she was dying. She caught her breath, lifting her hand out of the water to see it was pruned. "Wow," she mumbled, surprised.

"We've been in the water too long," he said, looking at his own fingers. "I think I'm actually cold now." Guy shivered, teeth chattering for a second.

Eep giggled with a sheepish grin. "Me too."

Guy began making his way towards the shoreline, padding through the water. Eep followed him as she crocopup paddled. Once they reached the soft white sand, the couple flopped together on their backs. Eep wiggled into his side, curling up into a ball. With the warmth of the sun gone, there wasn't much of a way to chase off the chill.

He wrapped an arm around her, rolling onto his side to get closer. "We can't stay here, you know," he mumbled into her hairline.

"Too cold, don't care," she rebutted. "Make me warm."

Guy chuckled, pulling his hands away despite her whining protest. He blew hot air into his palms and rubbed her chilled skin vigorously. They stayed like that for a moment, trading body heat until the cool night air on their skin felt tolerable. Eep pushed herself to her elbows after pulling away, gazing at the sky. Guy followed her eyes towards the sleeping suns.

"I'll never get tired of seeing this," Eep said aloud, turning to face Guy. He finally sat up, draping his arms over his knees as he crossed his legs.

"Me either," he said, relishing the beautiful sight. "I've followed each sun for so long," Guy continued, closing his eyes with a peaceful look on his face. He turned to face her, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. The fondness in his dark eyes made her feel shy, something she hadn't known she could be. "They lead me to you."

"I should thank them," Eep decided, getting to her feet. She stretched her arms above her head, hands attempting to reach for the moonlight. "Thank you, Tomorrow!" She called out, smirking at Guy who laughed.

He found his legs, standing up next to her. "Yeah!" He shouted, cupping his hands to his mouth so the sound carried. "Thank you!"

She giggled, giddy as she pressed into his side. He rested his head against hers, grabbing her hand to affectionately smooth his thumb over her knuckles. Guy raised her hand to his lips after, placing a featherlight kiss on each finger. "Your dad would so kill me right now," he mumbled against her skin.

"I won't let him," she quipped, practically glowing in her warmth. "Though, he might hunt you down if we don't go back to bed."

"Yeah," he sighed, sounding reluctant as he let her hand go. Eep instantly missed the warm of his calloused palm and fingers around it. "We probably should."

"We can still take advantage of the sleep pile though," she said with a slow grin, hands behind her back coyly.

He copied her expression, keen on the sneaky plan. "Not like Grug can really lecture us, everyone moves like an earthquake in there."

She toed the ground, shaking her head with a snort. "Yeah." Eep nudged his shoulder and looped her arm through his. "C'mon, it's late and I think I'm worn out enough to sleep now."

Guy nodded his agreement, seeming to suppress a yawn suddenly as he muffled his mouth. "Yeah, I'm all adventured out." He gave her a sly little look, Eep innocently blinking up at him as if not knowing what he was insinuating. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Anytime," she quipped.

They began to make their way away from the beach and into the jungle, hearing the snores of the slumbering family through the thick foliage. Eep tugged Guy down besides her to practically curl around him. Guy wrapped an arm around her waist, shimmying into a more comfortable position before sighing. Eep closed her eyes with a low hum, listening to the soft beating of Guy's heart.

She felt something soft press against her forehead, a kiss, she realized. She idly kissed the spot where his heart was in response, lovingly without a word but he knew its meaning. His breath hitched a little and he tugged her closer.

She was asleep faster than she thought possible, content and cozy…

Of course the awakening was less so when morning came, a disgruntled and shrill sound reached her ears. Yup, everything seemed back to normal, its natural balance. Guy could do nothing more besides retreat away as the familiar broad form of Grug seemed ready to skewer him with a nearby branch he grabbed. Of course he had assumed the worst, having awoken to see Guy's body draped over Eep's, pinning her beneath his weight

"Belt!" Guy shouted as he pelted off into the forest, ducking and weaving.

But the sloth only raised his long arms in a sweeping dramatic gesture. "Dun, dun, dun!"

"Ah, young love," Gran crooned, resting her fist on her chin as Eep got up to go save her boyhog. "I doubt he will kill him, we still need his fire."

Fire indeed, Eep thought with a burning blush.

[linssikeittomies]

The Place Between Here And There - Chapter 10: ...And Happiness In Private Life(cont'd)

Masterpost AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7  Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 9(cont'd)

I've finally updated the status of the fic to ABANDONED, I was going to do that way earlier but I didn't want to admit defeat, and then I just kind of forgot... Time really starts flying by as you get older, it totally doesn't feel like 2 years passed by^^' I'm still writing scenes for later on in the fic, and I've had the general outline of the story planned for a long time, but I haven't been able to write complete chapters for any of my projects for over a year now, it's very annoying. Anyway, this is the rest of chapter 9, not my best work but at least I like the part with Toris. He's noticed Ivan's small efforts of being nicer and wants to encourage them. Thanks for everyone who read this story and sorry for not being able to bring it to conclusion for all of you who were invested!

-

Ivan sent Fredya home until Wednesday – claiming it was so he could concentrate on work, but he was sure Fredya could tell he was just fretting about the upcoming meeting. Ivan was terrified Katyushka would get carried away, and that was closer to certainty rather than possibility, and then Fredya would walk out of his life. He had known from the start that the time would come sooner or later, but he had much hoped it would fall on the later end of the spectrum. This was a wholly different case from that of his first girlfriend - the one he had been with all of three days before Katyusha started talking about weddings. She had left him the next day, not surprisingly, and he hadn’t really cared one way or the other - she had been far too practical to occupy his thoughts when she wasn’t in sight. But if Fredya left as suddenly, and he was certainly impulsive enough to do so on the spot, then... Obviously it still wouldn’t be the end of the world,of course it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, losing a home for example would be far worse than losing a companion, it really wasn’t that big of an issue when you thought about it – there was no reason to lose what little will to live Ivan had left over something that insignificant. No reason.

So Ivan would not worry about it – he slammed the door on the thought, and worked hard to put all his concentration on his notes. He had not yet studied Rogers enough, his files on the computer had sat abandoned for too long. Opening his folder, going over the routes again, verifying time codes, Ivan fell to a comfortable, familiar routine, cup of tea beside him growing cold. Rogers didn’t have much of a routine, which made observing him a challenge and data collecting a thrill. At least this was an activity that Ivan could still lose himself in despite whatever non-turmoil was boiling in his gut. Comparing coordinates, discovering overlaps, identifying patterns, data was something Ivan was good at. Data had no emotions, so it was easy to handle. Data didn’t mind his extracurriculars, didn’t judge him for his jealousy, didn’t snoop into his past. Though it also didn’t text him at 3 am to tell him about a silly dream it had. Even less it cared about whether he was coming home for the night or not. It not wanting to watch brainless, cliched superhero should have been a positive, but in the dark, the brain gets sentimental. Ivan suddenly wished he had a file on Fredya. Ivan certainly had enough data on him, though so far it was all in his brain and a few lines in his notebooks. One photo on his phone, a selfie Fredya had sent some weeks ago. It was taken with one of those filter things, Ivan wasn’t familiar with the apps so he couldn’t tell if it was instagram or snappychat or whatever others there were. Fredya had cartoon glasses on his nose, on top of his real-life glasses. He was doing a victory sign, and there was a badly drawn pink heart floating in the lower left corner, not anchored into anything. The composition of the photo was bad. A large dead space occupied the top left, a pile of dirty clothes was poking into the frame from the bottom right. The lighting was scarcely better, the only diffuser was the dust inside the light fixture. Fredya’s artistic ability was nil, though he did make for an attractive subject, harsh shadows and all. It would be nice to have proper photo of him, before he got out of reach. With a reference to guide him, it might be possible. Ivan quickly scanned his bedroom for inspiration.

Perhaps it was too much effort for 2 a.m., but Ivan rather liked the end result. The handful of stars drawn on the wall to form a suggestion of a halo – however wrong it looked on Ivan – and hands posed to form a heart on the chest, and some minor lighting adjustments on photoshop, he thought it near perfectly captured how Ivan saw Fredya. Bright, innocent, center of the universe, unashamed of his affections. Fredya wouldn’t put as much effort in to it, even if he did take his own version of the photo as Ivan had requested, but that was also good. It wasn’t in Fredya’s nature to try too hard at something he didn’t feel like understanding - such as art other than of the moving pictures variety. Together, the photos formed a piece – the fantasy and the reality. It was a commentary on expectations. Fredya may or may not look at the photo when he inevitably got up to go the bathroom sometime soon, but he wouldn’t take his own until afternoon if ever, so Ivan finally went to bed. He only had a few hours before his shift started.

-_-_-_-_-

Fredya had sent an emoji Ivan didn’t understand the meaning as response to the photo, followed by hearts and something that seemed to be an abbreviation, Ivan didn’t research the meaning. It likely wasn’t important. Ivan got coffees for everyone again, and Amanda gave him a incredulous look. It was getting suspicious, Ivan acting nice. He should dial down on the social interactions for the next few days. It would be good practice for when Fredya left him, anyway. “Oh, thank you for going through the trouble”, Toris commented smiling. Ivan studied the smile, trying to map out proportions and gauge timings, but again he failed to replicate the gesture. It kept coming out as sarcastic. He would prefer if both would just shut up and their coffees without scrutinizing his intentions. Let a man act civil to fellow humans beings in peace. “If everyone is done sitting around, we need someone to go interview Fowler’s parishioners.” Predictably, Amanda volunteered for the task. That left Ivan and Toris at the office, reading through statements, comparing alibis and viewing security footage, the same draining and pointless sinkhole of never-ending choppy black-and-white footage that glared a print of the screen in your soul, so that in the end when you lost everything else to dementia and cataracts, you would still see that stinging bright rectangle staring you in the eye, smirking gleefully, taking pleasure in removing everything one used to take joy in, and replacing itself in place of loved ones. That metaphor ran a little wild at the end, there. In all fairness, it could be intriguing work when results could reasonably be expected, but everyone and their mother knew the only thing learned from these particular ones would be just how much time were wasting on them. Even Toris, being his professional self, couldn’t resist glancing at the clock every few minutes. He would of course try to make it inconspicuous, just letting his eyes dart to his wrist and back again, but it was noticeable enough when one was more concentrated on the coworker than the work. It came to Ivan’s mind that perhaps this was another aspect of Toris he should try to simulate, rather than keep studying, his work ethic was excellent. Surely that was something most people would approve of. And Fredya did often complain Ivan was rather lackadaisical about his work, he would appreciate the effort. “How do stay so focused?” he asked sincerely. It was admirable, really, how Toris could throw himself at something so tedious. Toris blinked at him in confusion, probably surprised to see his colleague who was supposed to working beside him blatantly ignoring said work. “I’ve practiced it for years, there’s really no easy trick for it.” “Ah. Shame.” “I find that meditating regularly helps. And a good diet.” Well, that was already two things Ivan would not be trying out. “I could send you some articles  if you’d like.” “You should spend your free time on yourself. You work too much.” Ivan went idly back to his files, not really feeling like working, but deciding to at least give it a shot, but feeling Toris’ curious eyes still fixed on him was too much of a distraction. After several seconds of silence he couldn’t take it anymore. “Yes?” “Thank you. That was considerate of you.” Ivan didn’t know how to answer that. It had been such a banal thing to say. Not warranting any response, really. Just a stock phrase, however true of some people and situations - such as this particular specimen. Toris must have heard the exact same statement hundreds of times in his life, knowing that he had an actual social circle who cared for him. Ivan was outside that circle, and people rarely care for the things outsiders say in matters like these - surely Toris should feel nothing particular about anything Ivan said. There was no need for him to smile like that, it was just embarrassing for a grown man to get so giddy about faint praise. Ivan scoffed and went back to his work.

-_-_-_-_-

U maek a habot of drawning on walls huh Outside of his brief childhood, Ivan had only ever drawn on walls three times - once in a drunk, misguided bout of creative frenzy, once to write his number on an intriguing man’s wall to annoy him, and once in an attempt to save a relic of happier times for the future. Mostly when you are involved, it seems. Perhaps you are my muse for wall-related artistry It had been a while since Ivan had drawn a portrait, but now might be the time to dust off that skill set. Ivan considered himself more of a photographer, but there was also something appealing about creating from scratch. Although... he would need to keep the portrait hidden, it would raise questions and pity later on. Ivan wished he was better at abstraction, that way it wouldn’t look like Fredya to anyone else, but his mind seemed to be too observational for it. It could only make sense of things that connected together in realistic ways, it couldn’t create anything out of feelings alone. Perhaps he simply didn’t have enough of them for that kind of art. The dinner with Fredya and his sisters was a few hours away, but Ivan was already nervously ironing his clothes. He once again pleaded Katyusha to control her romantic impulses, and of course she promised, but Ivan knew that meant little. She had very bad self-control. Tasha’s picking me up, we’ll meet you there Natasha was coming? Nataliya was coming?! Fuck - what was she - this was bad news - why hadn’t she said - oh god, forget about Katyusha ruining everything if Nataliya Grigorova was coming! She never mentioned wanting to come along That sneaky little girl, she told me you said it was okay, haha He would not survive this night sober. He wanted to make a good impression. He did not want to be drunk when the only three people who mattered to him were all in the same room. He wanted to be fully conscious, to enjoy an outing with his family while being fully genuine, not just sedated into calmness. But lord knew he would not survive the night sober.

-_-_-_-_-

Remembering the fit Fredya had thrown the last time Ivan had driven not-strictly-drunk-but-also-not-sober, he was glad that they had arranged beforehand for Fredya to pick him up. Because he was observant in the most inconvenient ways, Ivan had been sure Fredya would notice something was off, maybe a smell or the slow movements to counteract the unsteady hand-to-eye-coordination, but fortunately he was too stoked about meeting Ivan’s sisters again, officially, to notice Ivan’s oddly calm demeanor. He babbled excitedly the whole way there, and was halfway across the street before Ivan had even fully exited the car. “Come on you snail! They’re gonna think we ditched them!” “It’s only a few minutes away, you can afford to slow down”, Ivan chuckled. Fredya was so adorably excited, he resembled a puppy on a walk. “Being overeager is as bad as being late.” “Beg to disagree! Pick up the pace slowpoke!” Fredya sped up ahead, Ivan kept his leisurely pace. He missed the re-introductions, but it seemed like he hadn’t been needed for those at all - Fredya and Katyushka already looked like old friends, while Tasha regarded him with a haughty look, but nary a nasty word. She raised an eyebrow at Ivan, as if saying really, you chose this clown over me?, and he simply smiled pleasantly at her. As they waited for their food to arrive, Fredya and Katyushka were unsurprisingly the only ones to hold up conversation. They had found a common ground in Star Trek - in that Katyusha had heard a lot about it, but had never watched an episode and was interested, and Fredya was an expert in all the series and films and liked talking about them. They went through the pacifistic ideas on the original series and how it sometimes contradicted itself on it, analyzing the casting choices for the remakes, some more things that Ivan had no interest in.  When their plates were brought, the were in the midst of trying to speak klingon - the attempts of both of them were saddeningly hilarious. Or perhaps they were both surprisingly accurate. Ivan had no way of knowing, the franchise being something he had never taken an interest in. Of course he liked space, but he was more fact-oriented than a fan of fanciful fiction. “You seem so young, it’s almost like you’re still in college”, Katyusha giggled, and Ivan could not agree more. The youthful energy Fredya exuded was refreshing, at least most of the time. “Never went to college, I went straight to work from high school”, Fredya explained, crumbs flying. That was the one habit that Ivan never found charming in Fredya, it was just plain disgusting. Tasha made a small chortle of contempt that passed Fredya by. “Our brother is a very intelligent man”, Tasha commented sharply, and Ivan knew exactly what she was going for – he had come to the same conclusion, himself. And truthfully, neither of them had been wrong - Fredya really was stupid. “Oh, tell me about it”, the insulted man chuckled, not understanding what was being implied. Ivan would have liked being able to defend Fredya, but the thing was that Fredya was not intelligent – intellectually or socially, and attempting to claim otherwise would have been pointless. He might have been considered smart in some useless areas, such as entertainment trivia, but faint praise is just as damning as admitting faults. Trivia! There was the opening Fredya needed to impress Tasha! “He has a master’s degree in movie trivia and celebrity gossip, if nothing else. Just give an actor’s name and he will tell you every movie they have ever been in.” “And not just that! I can also tell which year each movie came out!” Fredya exclaimed proudly. Ivan started with an easy one - Tom Cruise. Tasha did look reluctantly impressed as the titles and dates kept on coming, but refused to admit defeat. She tried her favorite actor, someone much more obscure. “Ken Foree?” “Hmm… The midnight man, 2017… Rift, dark side of the moon 2016, Cut slash pri- no wait, I think he was in Divine tragedies, 2015, Cut slash print 2012 –“ However, since

Tasha’s obsession with her brother refused to give way to respect for her perceived enemy, she realized that to claim victory she could simply ask about any non-American film star. “Anastasia Zavorotnyuk.” “Anastasia who?” Of course he pronounced the name the American way, but Ivan was still mildly impressed he could tell Анастасия and Anastasia were the same name. “Zavorotnyuk.” Tasha allowed herself a malevolent smirk as Fredya racked his brain for the name in vain. “A true expert wouldn’t limit himself only to Hollywood”, Tasha hmphed in triumphant malice, believing to have proved her superiority over him once and for all, despite not showing an ability to counter his. It seemed the point had only been to prove Fredya was not omniscient. In Ivan’s eyes, it was enough to be merely well-versed. “He does hate subtitles to the point where I thought he might be illiterate”, Ivan joked. “Hey, at least I speak the language of the country I live in!” “Verily, my darling, thou speakest with the most biting of tongues. Shakespeare himself would envy your prowess.” “The guy lived like hundreds of years ago, who gives a shit? Ivan Drago was famous in the 80’s.” “Ivan can sound almost native when he tries”, Katyusha said, trying to diffuse the argument, not knowing the workings of their relationship well enough to tell it was all said in jest. “I haven’t tried in years, I doubt I could anymore”, Ivan thought. He had tried training his accent away in high school, so he would sound less foreign in job interviews. Having a foreign name was bad enough in an application. He had never achieved a smooth, natural accent, he had to concentrate very hard which caused the words to come out very slowly and robotically, and still there was always a hint of foreign phonemes. Combined with his attempts to deepen his voice – an incredibly embarrassing failure on its own – had made him cringe, even back then. Tasha had encouraged him, of course, because in her mind anything and everything her dear brother did was the right decision. Excluding taking romantic interest in someone other than her, of course.

The rest of the evening went by in much the same fashion. Fredya and Katyusha got along swimmingly, Tasha made snide remarks about Fredya, Ivan defended him in mean ways, Fredya played along. It was all very pleasant. Finally the staff started dropping hints that it was time to vacate the table, so they got up and parted ways. Katyusya was enchanted enough to not wait long enough to be out of earshot before starting to gush about her baby brother’s relationship, which made for a perfect opening for eavesdropping. “Don’t you think Vanechka looks so much happier than usual?” Katyusya said, nearly clapping her hands in excitement. “Idiocy might be contagious”, Tashenka grumbled in response. “I never imagined he’d go for that type, but I guess it goes to show opposites really do attract!” Katyushka squeed. “It’s only for the moment. That American moron will start getting on Vanya’s nerves soon”, Tashenka claimed, not sounding too confident herself. Ivan had expected that to happen as well, in the beginning. “I hope he won’t, I think Alfred is good for Vanechka. He’s come out of his shell.” What did she mean by that? As far as Ivan was aware, he had never been shy around his sisters. Or other people, for that matter. “What’re you frowning about?” Fredya asked. “I’m eavesdropping. Katyusha likes you, and Natasha doesn’t despise you.” “Well that’s good news isn’t it?” Fredya smiled, and tried to hear the women. “Man, you got great hearing. I can’t hear them at all.” Yes, it did take some practice to achieve Ivan’s level of spying on other people’s conversations. And by then they had gotten far enough that Ivan couldn’t hear then anymore either, actually. “Your eardrums must be damaged from the all screeching you do.” “You’re walking home, asshole.”

-

Tasha + Katyushka = affectionate nicknames for Nataliya and Yekaterina. Tashenka + Katyusya = one level more intimate. Ivan is being drunk and sentimental so at the end of the evening, the way he feels about his sisters is something like most people do when seeing tiny kittens. Thanks again for reading! Maybe in like 10 years so I'll add a final "chapter" describing the rest of the plot, but I know myself and won't make any promises. I have some more snippets on the masterpost if anyone wants to frustrate themselves with a story that will never be finished.

[chocojjk]

For A Moment

summary: If you knew from the start that there is no forever, will you still choose to love?

words: 8.6k

a/n: Hello friends, long time no see :( ... This is long overdue and I’m not even gonna make up any excuses because honestly I just had no time and no motivation to find time. However, with the recent events, I was finally able to finish this au and I am excited for you guys to read it! 

I tried to edit it as much as possible but my head started hurting lol

Also, this was inspired by the movie Hello, Love, Goodbye

one.

You were a busy person. Your life a constant battle between yourself and your phone alarm, ordering you of your next tasks at hand. In your world, time is important. Time is gold. But when you met him, for a moment, time just stopped. 

“Hi,” he says, giving you a sweet smile.

“Welcome to the Timebeam, what can I get you?” you reply, your customer service voice barely there, seeming as this time of the night everyone is either too drunk to notice or too happy to even care. No one comes here for a good conversation anyway, everyones only here for 3 things: get drunk, have fun, and get laid. 

Timebeam was a very popular bar in your city that you so happened to work in. Don’t get me wrong, you could care less about the alcohol that surrounds you but the job pays well and the tip is insanely crazy - people tend to be rash when they’re drunk and well, you needed the money. 

“Well, I- uhm, was hoping I could get your number,” he replies, the smile still on his face.

“No,” you shot back as quickly as his question left his mouth.

“Why not?” he asked, confusion evidently laced in his voice. You can tell that the boy in front of you wasn’t used to someone rejecting him. Typical. But if he wanted someone so bad, then he shouldn't be asking the most sober person in the room.  

“What would you need my number for?” you retorted. 

“I wanted to get to know you better, maybe take you out on a date,” he replied, this time a smirk playing on his lips. He knew you had to be the slightest bit interested if you were still talking to him. He was sure you were going to give in eventually. Besides, like a typical boy, he enjoyed a challenge. 

“I'm a very busy person “Mr.-” “Bang, Bang Chan,” he chimed in, reaching his hand out to shake yours in which you gladly accepted. I mean come on, you are still clocked in and the number one rule in customer service is to always keep your customers satisfied. 

“Nice to meet you sir, like I said, I'm a very busy person, I don't have time to get to know people, let alone go on dates with them. So I suggest you order something or find a different conquest for the night because all you're getting from me is a glass of alcohol of your choice,” you declared, finishing it off with a small smile.  

He was about to reply to you when suddenly a man came slurring in, pushing him out of the way. 

“8 sh-shots of uh.. your b-best vodka,”

“Yes sir, which table are you in?”

“Table number…uh...9 i think, i don't know just look for me,”

“Alright sir, coming right up,” you said as you busied yourself behind the counter preparing the drinks, completely forgetting about the boy that had asked for your number. You never did find any of those interesting, always telling yourself that they're too drunk to even remember their actions and 99.9% of the time, you were right. 

He observed the way you treated the customers, finding it absolutely cute how you kept a smile on your face, your voice keeping that high, cheery customer service voice. However, your eyes seem to tell a different story. A one that he wanted to know. But tonight wasn’t the night and so he made his way back to his friends. 

“So did you get her number?” Minho asked, a smirk on his lips

“Nope,” he replies honestly, a huge smile on his face.

“So why are you smiling?” Jisung asked, clearly confused as to why his best friend is plastering a huge smile on his face when he has just gotten rejected. 

“Wow, for the first time in history, someone dared to reject our brother??! I can't believe it!,” Changbin added, a little too loudly if one may ask. Clearly the boy was way too gone and so was the rest of them as they all bursted out in laughter, even Chan himself chuckled as he swigged the glass of beer, his eyes never leaving your figure. 

Their loud ruckus, however, caused you to turn in the group's direction, locking eyes with the man himself, as he nods his drink towards you, taking a sip, and giving you the same small smile that he has been giving you all night. 

two.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Another day, another dollar,” as spongebob would say.

You get up for the day, shutting off the little death machine that kills you a little bit inside every time it opens its mouth. You honestly should get used to that loud, damn thing as it screams at you 5 times a day, each ring signaling your next task at hand.

Being a part time college student and also working two jobs isn't as easy as people make it seem to be. On top of that, your family relies on you for financial support. Their business crashing has laid a huge weight on top of your shoulders. Before you only used to worry about paying for your education but now there’s just piles and piles of loans being thrown at you.  

You really didn't have any other time to sneak in a date here or there - maybe after your shift in the bar but even that doesn’t end until 1 in the morning and by that time you're way too exhausted to do anything.

Besides, with your family relying on you, it's not like you can just drop everything. At least not until for the next 5 months, when you will finally be relocated to Canada to start your on the job training, working as a [insert your dream job.] The job that you actually desired. The job that you’ve been working so hard for and the job that pays so well that it will finally get your family out of the debt you owe. When that time comes you will finally be able to leave this hellhole of a place that you’ve been calling your home for the past 2 years.

In 5 months, you’ll finally live the way you want. The way you dreamed.

You just gotta get through another day until that day finally comes. 

I’m sure you don't want to keep hearing about how much work you have to get done so let's fast forward, shall we?

“Hi,” he says, giving you a sweet smile.

“It’s you again,” you deadpanned, not having any time for the games he came here to play.

At this he let out a small laugh before cheerfully replying with, “what happened to ‘Welcome to Timebeam, what can I get you?’” mocking your voice from the night before, clearly teasing you.

With a sigh, you rolled your eyes before letting out a, “Welcome to Timebeam, what can I get you?” as you plastered the fakest smile you could ever give. He clearly found this amusing as his laughter rang loudly around the room, you swear it was even louder than the music that everyone was dancing to. Unexpectedly, you found yourself laughing along with him, causing him to stop and stare at you, a smile playing on his lips.

“Have a drink with me?” he pleaded

“Can’t drink on the job,” you replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Technically...you're not on the job anymore… it's 1 pm,” he points out, flashing you a smile

“And how would YOU know that?” you questioned, one eyebrow going up, hands crossed against your chest.

“Believe it or not i'm a very observant person, I noticed how you left right when the clock struck 1 last night,” he states proudly

“Oh so you're stalking me,” you challenged him, this time a smirk making its way onto your face making him laugh.

“Have a drink with me.” he ordered, obviously not asking anymore.

“Will you finally leave me alone if I do?”

And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way that you’ve been missing the feeling of another body against yours but the next thing you know you find yourself walking into a motel room, your hands tangled in his hair, the taste of the bitter whiskey that you guys drowned evident on his plumped lips that were working its way against yours, pieces of clothing disappearing all over the room.

As things continue to get heated, you start tracing kisses from his neck, making your way down. However, in the midst of it all, before you got too lost in the feeling that he was giving you, you broke down. Chan stares at the wall ahead, the romantic mood in the air quickly disappearing as soon as he hears your cries. Honestly, he has no idea what to do. This was definitely one of the most awkward hookups he has ever encountered. Was he supposed to hug you? comfort you? Because let's be real here, he definitely did not come for that. As you regain your composure, you utter a soft, “sorry,” before putting your shirt back on and running out of there ashamed, leaving Chan half naked and confused to the scene that unfolded before him.

After a couple of minutes of composing himself, he walks back out into the busy city of Seoul, not expecting to see you sitting on the bench outside of the building, looking out at the lake that surrounds it. For a second, the city seemed to stop, the sound of the bustling cars and busy people all being drawn out as he takes a good look at you, your features being etched onto his mind.

What was it about you?

He can't seem to figure it out but he did know that you looked sad, and he never leaves a hook up without the girl feeling satisfied. So maybe it wasn't in the way he intended, but he will make you feel good.

three.

“So tell me, did I smell THAT bad that it led you to cry?” he jokes, trying to get you to laugh yet all he received was a stoic stare.

You felt him take a seat beside you, the cold air slightly getting warmer. “You know the drill right? None of the things that happened back there was real. It was just a spur of the moment thing and we’ll both go back to living our lives th-”

“Wait, wait, wait, what exactly happened back there?” he says his eyebrows raised, a cheeky smile on his lips

“I'm just saying that none of those feelings were real.”

“Trust me, I didn't have feelings there…but you..you seemed to have a lot,” he says teasingly, obviously hinting at the way you just cried and ran. You ignored it though, not really in the mood to talk about the scene that just took place as you were embarrassed enough and so you put on your strong front like you always do.

“Good. Because I’m telling you now that I’m not interested. And whatever happened will never happen again. So you can leave me alone now and move on to your next girl.”

“W-ow,” he says, holding a hand to his heart before letting out a laugh. “So this is how it feels…” he pondered out loud.

You give him a look, seeming to say, ‘how does what feel?’

“You see, I’ve just never been on this side before. I’m usually the one who pushes the girls away, the one who breaks it off. You know...this actually hurts a bit.” he states.

‘Psh of course he was,’ you thought to yourself. The boy's cocky behavior was evident from the start so of course his pride would hurt a bit now that he has been rejected but you remained from making any comments. You let the silence wash over the two of you, the only sound coming were from the small waves the lake was creating. For some reason, him just sitting next to you made you feel a little less lonely and so you basked in this moment of peace before it ended.

“You know...if you want...you can talk to me about it,” he says, finally breaking off the silence.

“What makes you think I would talk about my feelings to a complete stranger?” you shot back, really not understanding what the boy had in mind.

“Well you see, that's the beauty of it,” he says like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sensing that you still weren't convinced, he continued, “i’m a complete stranger, right?”

“Right.” you deadpanly replied

“Which means at the end of the day, my thoughts and my opinions don't matter to you... which  also means you can open up to me because, well...one, i wont judge and two, even if i did, why would you even care what i think?... since i'm a stranger and all,” he explains, urging you to start sharing.

You stare at him for a bit, thinking to yourself if it was a smart idea to go along with what the boy has said.

“...or you can just keep staring at me like that, i don't mind it at all,” he says with a cheeky smile on his face as he turns to you. However you didn't look away, instead you examined his face even more, noticing the dimples that were coming out to play and the way that his eyes seem to smile along with his lips. He was definitely the type of man you’d fall for and if things weren’t how they were now, then maybe you would allow yourself to fall. Finally, straying your eyes off of him, you look back into the ocean.

“I’m just so tired..i-i want to have control. For once in my life, I want to live my life for myself and not for anyone else,” you mumbled.

He had a point. He is no one to you, just a stranger - a stranger that you would never have to talk to again. So why should you care how you look, why should you care enough to act strong?

And so you exploded, “I'm tired of always acting strong for everyone. I’m tired of pretending I’m fine with what's happening in my life. I’m tired of being compared to the people around me, reminding me that I’m not even nowhere close to where I want to be...i just..i just want to be happy,” all the feelings that you’ve kept to yourself finally tumbling out. Your tears flowing freely down your cheeks but you could care less. It felt good to finally say those words out loud. It might seem silly but just saying it out loud felt like a huge weight was taken off your shoulders.

He listens to your rant, wondering to himself how this broken girl in front of him still seems to be the most beautiful one he’s seen. The way your tears started falling, making your eyes glassy and your nose starting to get that hint of the color red… it was all beautiful to him. But the most beautiful of all were your words and the way you spoke. Out of all the strangers out there, he was the one lucky enough to be given the chance to meet you. The real you. No fake smiles, no cheery voice, just the painful words that finally matched the eyes he first met with.

After your long awaited confessions, he let the silence take over for a second before saying, “I want to have my own music studio,” he says, looking out at the ocean. “I want people to look at me and take me seriously…I want to show my dad how successful I can be without his help and his money,” he continues.

You realize now that opening up to him was one of the best things you could do. Because just like what he said, he didn’t judge you, hell, he didn’t even state his opinion. He just let you say what you were feeling...nothing more, nothing less.

He then stood up, standing on the ledge that separates him and the lake, raising his arms up like he was about to fly, he yelled out a loud, “I want to be happy!!!” and you swear the whole entire city could hear him but you could not have cared any less as your feet started making their way towards him, joining him on the ledge, as both of you started yelling out your wishes.

“Let’s work towards our dreams, yeah?” he says, turning to look at you, his eyes beady yet beautiful. It was like looking at the skies filled with twinkling stars, and his smile - wide and evident and all you could do was nod and mirror his expression.

four.

After some time, you guys finally got tired of screaming into the cold air. Sitting side by side on the ledge, you start a new conversation with him. After all, you guys are just strangers, it wouldn’t hurt you to know a little more about the guy in front of you.

“Have you ever been in love, Chan?” you ask, catching him off guard. He wasn’t expecting you to ask him any questions, hell, he wasn’t even expecting you to say goodbye. He thought you were just gonna get up, leave, and continue your life without acknowledging the scene that just happened.

“Why do you ask?” he replies, curious as to why you were suddenly interested in him.

“You just don’t seem like the type,” you answered honestly. Chan scoffs at this and you suddenly feel bad for asking but before you could apologize, he replied, “of course i’ve been in love, i am still human after all”

“What happened?” you ask. In a way, you're not quite sure why you kept asking him questions you're not that interested in knowing the answers to. All you know is that you don't want this night to end quite yet.

“I told her I loved her,” he expressed, his eyes immediately finding interest in his jeans as his fingers started to fiddle with the watch that seemed to be made specifically for his wrist.

“and then what happened?” you wondered what could possibly happen to turn Chan into the playboy that he seemed to be.

“Thats what happened,” he countered “I told her i loved her and she got scared and left, told me that she wasn’t expecting that to happen…i-i didn't know that that's how easy it was to scare a girl away, but now I do,” he says snickering. 

“It's my party trick now, if i know i'm not interested, all i have to say is ‘i love you’,” he concluded, finishing his rambling.

“I love you.” you replied quickly, hoping that this will finally make him walk away and end this night because you couldn't find the courage to do so.

Upon hearing your words, he lets out a small giggle, “I’m sorry but…I don’t love you. I'm staying right here.”

five.

It’s been two weeks since that night and you haven’t seen the stranger that made such an impact on you. In the two weeks that have gone, you sometimes find yourself walking home through the path that passes the bench, hoping to even get the smallest glance of him. However, much to your dismay, you were always greeted with an empty bench, cold air nipping at your skin and the boy nowhere to be seen.

His friends were here though. Seated at their usual table, you go up to them as soon as you clock out, “Hi, I was wondering if you guys have seen Chan around?”

They all snicker at the sound of his name stumbling out of your lips and you immediately regret even asking in the first place until a voice coming from behind you breaks your thoughts, “hey stranger,” he says, his soft honey voice filling your ears and calming you down, the same way they did two weeks ago. As you turn to face him, you notice the same dimpled smile he was wearing, something that you didn’t realize you've missed seeing until now. You utter out a small, “hi,” as you slowly walk towards him.

He notices that you were out of your work clothes, your jacket in hand, “you wanna get out of here?” he asks quietly, for only the two of you to hear. All you could do was let out a small nod as he took his hands in yours. Pulling the two of you out of the bar, he waves to his group of friends to signal that he was leaving as his friends' cheers slowly diminished with every step. Chan never told them what happened that night so they assumed that you were just back for a second round with Mr. Bang, as they like to call him when he’s out doing his thing.

You guys ended up at a ramen place a couple of blocks down the bar. This part of Seoul is always alive so it didn’t take long for the two of you to find a place to settle in.

“So… why were you looking for me?”

He asked the question that you hoped you didn’t have to answer because frankly, you don’t even know the answer either.

The reason why you opened up to him in the first place was because he was a stranger to you. You never expected to be here, at 1:30 in the morning, eating a bowl of noodles and ruining your schedule for the brown-eyed, curly-headed man seated in front of you. If you were to be completely honest with yourself at this moment, you would say it was worth it. Instead however, you inhaled the ramen in front of you, choosing not to answer the question he laid out.

Chan, on the other hand, couldn’t help but let out a small smile. He could feel how flustered you were with him catching you red handed, asking his friends about him. Though you chose to ignore his question, he couldn’t be happier that he was given another moment to be with you and so he ate his ramen in silence, only the sounds of the busy streets can be heard around the two of you.

“I realized I never got the chance to thank you,” you say as soon as the last bit of noodle disappeared into your mouth.

“Thank me for what?” he says, eyebrows raised.

“Well, two weeks ago, a boy went up to me at the bar expecting to score but instead had to listen to me talk about all my problems,” you say, smiling sheepishly. “I want to thank that boy for letting me express my thoughts and not judging me for a single one,” you continue, your eyes avoiding contact with his. You aren’t the type to be so upfront with your feelings, usually choosing to bottle it all up, so saying all these things out loud were quite hard for you.

“I think the boy would say you’re welcome and that if you ever need another night like that then all you need to do is exchange numbers with him so you can easily reach him whenever you want,” he says, his small smile coming out to play.

“Is that your way of asking me for my number?” you teased

“maybe,” he replies, letting out a small smirk as he hands you his phone.

After inputting your number into his phone, you looked up at him, “i love you,” you say jokingly.

Chan, quickly remembering what you are referring to, replied with a “sorry, i still don't love you,” and all you could do was let out a laugh.

He quickly joins you, your guys’ laughter mixing in with the sound of the busy streets and Chan swears that he’s never heard anything more beautiful.

six.

‘Where are you right now?’

A text on your phone read, coming from the one and only Bang Chan.

‘At home, why?’

‘I got you coffee :)’

Your heart stops a beat. Something that you find has been frequently happening ever since Chan stopped being a stranger. Ever since that night, you and Chan have been texting non-stop. However, you’re very much aware that this could never develop into something more than it is now as the days you had left in this city were starting to diminish and Chan knew that as well. You told him about it through text one night. Explaining to him that once you’re done with school, you would be making your way to Canada to finally start the life that you’ve been dreaming of.

At first, Chan was angry at the world for letting him meet you just to take you away a couple months after. However, he never let it be known to you as he acted nonchalant, like the information you spread out to him didn’t just hurt him. He contemplated whether or not he should allow himself to get more attached, but after a day of not talking to you he realized that he already was. Which brings us to now with Chan standing outside of your apartment, choosing to sacrifice his whole heart out on the line just so he can still be with you. After all, you guys don't have forever.

Quickly glancing out your apartment window, there he was, a black beanie on his head paired with his regular black hoodie and jeans, your cup of coffee sitting right in between his hands, the only thing that's providing him any source of warmth in the cold air. You made your way out of your room as quickly as possible so that you could finally let him in.

“Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver,” you say as you take a sip from the cup of coffee that he handed to you.

“Still stressed about the big test, huh?” he commented, taking a seat on your bed that was right next to your study table.

“Yeah, I just can't seem to understand this topic,” you replied, letting out a frustrated sigh, “like, I’ve read it over and over again and it's just so… so complicated!... my professor never went over this in class so i don't understand why it's even on the test to begin with,” you cursed, a frown making its way upon your face.

“Let me take a look at it,” Chan extends his hands out, reaching for your notebook as you give him a questioning look.

“Ok y/n, im smarter than I look,” he scoffs as you put your hands up in defense, “i didn't say anything!”

“You didn’t have to, your face says it all,” he bickered as you uttered out a soft sorry and slumped down on your chair, choosing to focus on the coffee cup instead while Chan read your notes.

“Oh this is easy! I could teach you!” he exclaimed as your eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

“Are you serious!? Chan please tell me you're not joking, you're literally my last hope!” you say dramatically, quickly rushing to his side so that he can finally start explaining to you the topic that you've been trying to make sense of for the past 3 hours.

1 hr later

“... and that’s how you do it,” he declared.

“holy shit, you’re amazing,” you say excitedly, “i cannot believe i've spent so much time on this for it to be that simple! ugh! I love you!,” you continue, the buzz from the coffee and the happiness from finally understanding something that has left you puzzled for hours letting you feel like you're on cloud nine.

Too caught up in your feelings of accomplishment, you didn’t even notice the way Chan didn't retort with his famous, “i don't love you,” line but instead was looking at you like you held all the stars in the world in your fingertips.

seven.

“You’re texting y/n again huh?” Felix chimes in as he walks into the apartment that he shared with Chan and Minho.

“How’d you know?” Chan asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

“You’re literally grinning like a child on christmas day,” Minho teases, the smirk on his lips getting wider with every second.

“Man, you’re whipped,” Felix jokes as he and Minho erupted into a series of laughter, never expecting this day to come especially with the reputation that Chan had.

“But bro, let me remind you that y/n is leaving soon,” Minho points out, his responsible side kicking in. They’re very much aware of the situation at hand and he knows that once you leave then they’ll be the ones to have to pick up the pieces. That was something that none of the boys were looking forward to. They’ve all seen Chan at his worst, all experiencing the day Chan fell in love for the first time and was left broken hearted, morphing into the playboy that he is, or was, until he met you. It felt like a repeat of history to them. As much as they wanted to like you they couldn’t allow themselves to get attached to you the way that Chan already has. However, they still supported the two of you and whatever the hell your guys’ relationship was. The both of you chose not to put any type of label on it as there would honestly be no use since you were eventually going to leave.

“What if...what if I can show her that she doesn’t need to move away to be successful?” Chan wondered. Actually he’s been thinking about it for a few days now.

“And how exactly are you gonna do that?” Felix questioned curiosity getting the best of him. As much as possible he wants to help his friend, who is practically like a brother to him. If there was any way to get you to stay then he would very much contribute to the plan.

On the other hand, Minho was more of a realist, “She’s been wanting to leave years before she even met you, you think a boy would change that decision for her?”

See, in this whole situation Felix and Minho were like the devil and angel on Chan’s shoulders. One was always a ray of light, allowing him to have hope while the other was always harsh and truthful, reminding him of reality. You can choose who’s playing the part.

“I just- maybe...maybe if i show her that she can have everything that she's been dreaming of here, then she’ll stay,” Chan continues, “I can make things easier for her like bringing her food when she needs it, i’ll help her find a better job so she doesn’t have to strain herself all the time, hell, if that’s not enough, I’ll even reach out to my dad if I have to.”

Chan and his father’s relationship was an iffy one. They used to be close until Chan decided that he would be pursuing music instead of the law career that his dad has been trying to implement on him ever since he was young. Obviously, it didn’t end well for the pair. His dad’s pride was crushed as he was always gloating about how his eldest son would be taking over the firm soon. Eventually the atmosphere in the house became so thick that Chan decided to move out, only meeting up with them during the holidays. 

But for you, he’s willing to move past that. He was willing to give up his dignity if it meant a forever with you was possible. He felt like he finally found the missing piece in his life and the thought of having to let it go without even putting up a fight just doesn’t sit right with him. Chan was desperate and as soon as the other boys heard his proposition, they immediately knew how important you actually were to him.

“I think it could work,” Felix exclaims, cracking a smile out of Chan however it was short lived as Minho followed shortly after, “but is that what she wants?”

eight.

2 months. That’s the remaining time he had with you. Chan felt like he was in the fourth stage of the Kubler-Ross grief cycle even though he hasn’t even lost you. From the day you met at the bar to now, the past 3 months of his life have been the most thrilling and heart racing moments he has ever had. Laughing with you, eating with you, just being with you is always the best part of his day. 

Lately it’s been harder for the two of you to meet up though as Chan was busy with his music career. After multiple days of you ordering the DJ in Timebeam to play Chan’s music, a producer finally took interest in the music he has been making and gave him a chance to work with them.

Even though this meant taking up the time that you two had together, you couldn’t be prouder. After countless nights of deep talks with him, you knew that this was his dream. You supported him from a distance and listened to him talk about the experience every night, his voice becoming your daily lullaby. For Chan, it was a sign from the universe. Something that was telling him that if he really lands this as his permanent job then he will be able to help you financially, meaning that you didn’t have to go.

You were staying in his apartment for the night as you missed the presence of the boy so you decided to just do all your studying there. What was that phrase? Killing two birds with one stone.

“Dinners ready,” he says, popping his head in calmly so as to not disrupt you. “Ok, i'll be there in a sec,” you acknowledged as you finish the last bit of your essay. Honestly, you thought that you were just going to end netflix and chilling with Chan so you pat yourself in the back, feeling proud that you actually accomplished the assignment that you had to do.

Eventually you take the seat in front of Chan, ready to dig into the spaghetti that he has prepared but before you could even transfer some to your plate, he stops you, “nu-uh wait,” he says, lightly smacking your hand away from the plate, leaving you with a pout. He laughs at you before placing a soft kiss upon your rosy lips, giving you a feeling that you just can’t seem to get over and then heading to the fridge to grab the bottle of wine that he was cooling. It was just you and Chan tonight, the other boys going out to Timebeam, as usual.

“What's up with the fancy wine?” you say teasingly, “are you trying to get into my pants because i'm pretty sure that already happened,” you conclude, emitting a laugh from the both of you.

“Well…I got the job and I wanted to celebrate a little,” he beamed, his smile widening with every second.

“oh my god?!! That's amazing!!” you cheered, immediately jumping up to give him the biggest hug your tiny frame could muster.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he expressed as you kissed him all over, your heart bursting of happiness for the boy in front of you. He did it. He is finally going to be able to live out his dream.

“We should probably eat now before the spaghetti gets cold,” he says in chuckles as you kiss him once more on the lips before going back to your seats. The two of you talk about your days as you guys ate, really savoring this heartfelt moment.

“So I was thinking,” Chan hesitated, “what if you don’t move to Canada?”

And with that one small sentence, the light hearted air suddenly turned thick. Slowly placing your fork down, you stare at the black shirt Chan was wearing, trying to process the words that just came out of his mouth.

“wh-what?” you say, your voice faltering.

“I did it y/n… I got the job, i-i can help you and your family, i-”

“When did I say yes to that?” you ask sternly. The cheerful mood completely diminishing into thin air.

“Well, you don’t have to say yes, I’ll do it for you in a heartbeat-” the boy says, his heart completely filled with pure intentions but you were furious.

“You don’t get to decide things for me, Chan.”

“please, y/n,” he begged as he cautiously reached out for your hand however you removed it off the table as soon as you noticed, your eyes still refusing his gaze.

“y/n I love you, I did all this for us,” Chan continues, noticing that he is now speaking to the girl that he met that night. He was not going to let you shut all your emotions down. You, on the other hand, recognizes the effect that the boy had in you and you knew that once you stared at those brown eyes of his then you were done for - you’d give up everything and you could not be that weak. Not after everything you’ve gone through to get to where you are.

“If you love me then why are you making me choose?” you questioned, unsure of how to feel at the moment.

“y/n please.. if you love me then choosing wouldn’t be so hard!” he retaliated, the tears he has been desperately trying to hold back finally falling.

“I never said I did.” you gulped, regretting the words as soon as they left your mouth.

nine.

It’s been a week since that dreadful conversation yet nothing can get Chan to leave the couch. Sitting there dumbfoundedly, your words felt like a gunshot to his heart and he can’t believe he let himself fall in love again after swearing it off the first time. He needed a drink. Anything to stop the words that just seem to keep replaying in his head. Staggering over to the kitchen, he easily spots the last bottle of beer in the back of the fridge but before he could take a nice long swig, it was being taken away from him.

“Dude what the fuck?!”

“How long are you gonna do this for?” deadpanned Minho as Chan let out a frustrated groan, “Can’t you just leave me alone? You don’t understand how I feel Minho, you’ve never been in love!” he scoffed, yanking the bottle out of Minho's grip.

Minho didn’t let this get to him. Unlike Felix, Minho wasn’t afraid of Chan and had no problem with putting Chan back into his place, so he grabbed the bottle of beer and smashed it down the ground.

“Dude are you fucking serious right now?! That was the last one!” Chan yells frustratingly before pushing Minho away from his sight, a lot rougher than he would if he soberly knew what he was doing.

“Am I serious?? Am I fucking serious?!” Minho snaps, finally reaching his breaking point.  

“It’s 10:30 in the morning Chan! You’ve been drinking all week! You haven’t showed up to any of your meetings and we’ve all been making excuses for you!! You already lost the girl are you gonna fucking lose your dream job too!” Minho fumed. He hated the fact that it has come to this but he hated seeing his best friend lose himself more. 

So yeah, he’ll play the villain in Chan’s eyes for a while but that's only because he truly cares for him.

“You really thought she was just gonna drop everything for you, huh,” he scoffs, “Wake up call Chan!  you knew from the beginning she wasn't that type of girl so stop acting pathetic because we don’t feel bad for you.”

“You’ll move on. You’ve done it before. Just don’t take too long this time before you lose everything else,” he finishes before storming out of the apartment, the door slamming loudly as Chan finds himself back into what seemed to be his favorite place of the week - the couch.

“He’s right you know,” Felix says softly after hearing the commotion through his room. Picking up the pieces of glass that have shattered across the floor and cleaning up the mess that his older brothers have created, Chan sighs, a headache starting to form “Felix, I don’t need this from you right now too.”

“Hyung, i'm just saying...you did know the situation at hand before you even entered it,” Felix mumbled as carefully as possible.

“What do you think I should do?” Chan muttered, finally giving into the words that were being said.

“Honestly, I think you should talk to y/n” Felix admitted. With the mention of your name, Chan sits up, his attention solely focused on the younger boy in front of him, “you love her, right?” Felix questions.

“Yeah, but that's not the problem-”

“Hyung, let me talk first,” Felix sheepishly smiles, lowkey scared that Chan would burst again if he pushed his limits.

“S-sorry, yeah… go on,” Chan nodded, urging for him to speak.

“Well, how I see it, you took the risk of loving her even though you knew there was a timer that was going to go off as soon as these 5 months are over. You’ve already made it to the fourth month. What's one month more?” Felix reckoned.

“So you’re saying, I should go back to her?” Chan questioned, confused as to why Felix would suggest it when he thought that they wanted him to move on from her.

“Not go back to her but maybe fix it, she only has one month left, and you’ve created this out to be the perfect relationship… you don’t want to look back at this moment and think what could have happened in the last month,” Felix states, giving Chan a small smile before wiping off the spilled beer and making his way back into his room, leaving Chan to himself.

After a couple of minutes of just thinking to himself, Chan finally gains the courage to pick up his phone and text you.

‘Meet me at the place I first met you tonight after your shift... please.’

ten.

The place he first met you. You figured it was at the Timebeam and so you waited, keeping an eye on his usual table so that you could easily notice once he made his way here. 

After waiting 30 minutes, the boy is nowhere to be seen, leading you to wonder if this was all some sort of sick joke. A way to get back at you for hurting him the way you did but that part of you that loves him won’t let you think of him in such a malicious way and so with your head drooped down, you ventured out of the crowdy club and into the streets of Seoul, pushing away all the thoughts of the curly-headed boy.  

You were starting to have doubts. Seoul was what you were familiar with and in 30 days time you’re gonna have to leave the place you’ve grown accustomed to. 

Who am I kidding? 

You’ve been waiting to leave this place as soon as you got here. You were having these second thoughts because you wished for a different ending. One where Chan doesn’t hate your guts. Maybe one that ends as perfectly as it started.

And then it hits you. The place he first met you.

You ran. You ran as fast as your legs could take you and there he was - sitting on the same bench, looking out at the shining lake, his hands being kept warm by the pockets of his hoodie. Suddenly the busy streets of Seoul didn’t seem to be as busy anymore. 

You walk towards him slowly, engraving his features into your mind, taking a mental picture. Chan was a sight to see and you didn’t want to forget it when you’re 5,000 miles away. Carefully, you take the seat beside him, he doesn’t spare you a glance and you were too ashamed to look at him but you do hear the sigh that comes out of his lips.

Chan finally lets out the breath he’s been holding as soon as he felt your warm body take the seat next to him. After waiting for almost an hour, he was terrified that you were never going to show up and that he wouldn't have a chance to fix the mess he has created. But now he was anxious because he didn’t really think of what he was going to say and you’re here, sitting beside him, the smell of your perfume intoxicating him with every second that passes. Instead of accidentally blurting out something stupid, he stays still, not even sparing you a glance in order to compose his thoughts until you broke them.

“I love you,” you confessed.

Chan chuckles, still looking out at the lake, “are you saying that because you want the bench all to yourself?” he jokes, trying to lighten the air but you weren’t in the mood for any jokes. Facing him, you gather all the confidence that you could muster up, “No. I love you,” you confessed for the second time and Chan couldn’t help but let a tear fall from his eyes as he smiled a gentle smile.

“Thank you,” he says sniffling, finally facing you as you slowly wipe his tears away.

“I’m sorry for what I said, I don't know why I said it...i-,” you blabbered, trying to comfort him.

“That’s okay,” Chan says, cutting you off, “I know why,” he says, a sad tone laced within his voice, “it’s for your dream,” he finishes, shooting you a warm smile. You mirror his expression, glad that he knows that you didn’t actually mean what you said that night.

“I actually have to be the one saying sorry,” he starts, “it wasn’t fair of me to ask you to choose...im sorry y/n,” he says apologetically and all you wanted to do was bury yourself into the crook of his neck and never let go.

Instead you grabbed his hand, lacing it with yours. The feeling of his hands enveloping yours like before felt like home.

“I’m scared,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. Chan grips onto your hand tighter, letting you know that he was there and he will always be there for as long as you let him.

eleven.

Waking up to the sounds of the birds chirping instead of your alarm blaring was truly a phenomenal feeling. It’s your last week and having just resigned from your jobs, you had all the time to yourself. Well…yourself and Chan. You promised him that you were all his this week, something that he asked from you a week before.

“Hey, there’s something I wanted to propose to you,” he says one night as he was walking you home from work.

“Hmm, what is it?”

Getting down on one knee, your eyes widen in shock but quickly regain your composure when you see him pulling nothing but a finger heart from his pocket, “Will you spend your last week in Seoul with me?”

As you think back to that night you never noticed how fast the time came. That fear in the back of your head tends to resurface time and time again however you always had Chan to remind you that you were strong enough for the journey that lies ahead. It’s crazy to think that you won't have that luxury a week from now.

“hmm, what are you thinking about?” a groggily Chan asks from right next to you,

“Just how much I love waking up with you next to me,” you say teasingly. 

A smile immediately emerges upon his face as he grabs you close to him, settling his face on the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around you.

“I have a lot planned for this week,” he mutters, badly trying to shake the sleep away but with you right beside him, he couldn’t help but fall into a deeper slumber.

“I can’t wait,” you yawned, following him shortly after.

twelve.

Namsan Seoul Tower - the last place on Chan’s list. 

Two days before your flight. 

This week was just filled with Chan taking you to places you have never been before and you realized how beautiful South Korea was when it didn’t deal with you having to take care of drunk people and/or arguing with your professors. 

You’ve gained so much more love for this country in the short amount of time you were with Chan than the two years you’ve actually stayed here. It sucked that you never got the chance to explore the place earlier but you were glad that Chan was the one to be able to show you the wonders that it truly holds.

“Baby which lock color do you want?” he asks as you guys find a lock to purchase.

“The black one is nice,” you say, “we could write on it using white marker, I think it’ll stand out more,” you added as Chan immediately picked up the items and paid for them.

As you guys make your way to where the bridge was, you noticed how many couples there were at this place. Everyone has a hand to hold on to, different laughters filling the air and you love the way that Chan and you seem to fit right into the equation. With his fingers in between yours, you look up at him, memorizing every detail.

“We’re here,” he says as you grab the lock from his hand, writing out the words:

“C + (y.in) forever”

Ironic, the word forever.

But who knows? maybe somewhere down the road, forever is for the two of you.

Chan wraps his arms from behind you as you both look at the scenic view ahead. “I’ll always love you,” you say for only him to hear and he muffles back a tear before mimicking your words.

“I’ll always love you too.”

thirteen.

“Chan, thank you,” you say as you guys sat on your favorite bench, enjoying the last night you had together.

“For what?” he says, his thumb slowly grazing over your hands providing the comfort that you were so used to.

“For letting me live my dream.”

fourteen.

Chan dropped you off at the airport. Saying goodbye was the hardest thing you could do, clinging onto him and inhaling every memory of him with you.

Nonetheless, as soon as they called your flight, you left - not even sparing a single glance back. Chan didn’t expect any less though, in fact he hoped that you won’t look back because if you did then he probably would have never let you go.

Chan will always be etched into your mind as the boy who loved you and let you be you and you can’t thank him enough.

fifteen.

3 years later

Looking back at your life in Seoul, you don't even remember the blaring alarms and the loud drunks that you had to deal with on the daily. Instead, memories that include holding a hand and sharing a laugh - memories that lasted only for a moment, were the ones that you remember most.

(a/n): If you’re reading this then thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope you guys had as much fun reading it than i did writing it. feedback are always welcomed!!! i might not respond to all of them but i do see all the comments and they always make me smile :)  

(the only reason i don’t respond is because my main tumblr blog shows up and shes kinda ugly lolol - but you guys can drop stuff off in my asks and ill make sure to reply there)

again, thank you for reading!!! <3 

[shy-violet-soul]

Dream for a Mermaid

Summary: When she struggles under the weight of a lost goal, will her heart start buying the lies her head is spitting out? Or will she let her family speak the truth she needs to hear? Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, and a precious friend Warnings: discussions of anxiety & depression, so very much fluff Word count: 1600-ish

A/N: This is for my precious friend, @pinknerdpanda . Always listen to your heart, sweetie. And when your head starts lying, listen to me! Xoxo

The air in the Impala hung like a wet blanket. All she wanted was to get in her room and hide. Under-the-blankets hide. Under-the-bed hide. Dig-a-hole-in-the-world hide. Every time she saw Dean stretch his neck to the left at the kink there, every time Sam absently rubbed at his relocated shoulder, or Cas shifted gingerly around the remnants of his slashed ribs, the guilt squeezed her throat and burned her eyes. While Bob Dylan crooned out “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door”, only one note thrummed through her.

Failed. Failed. Failed.

The tunnel into the bunker’s garage filled her with a dizzying mess of relief and panic, her system overloaded from the last three hours. When the driver’s door creaked and Dean groaned his customary back popping, she arrowed herself out of the car and hurtled towards safety.

She didn’t see her boys staring after her before turning to each other. No explanation needed. They’d all lived it, too.

Failed. Failed. Failed.

Ammonia wrapped around her in a fog. Familiar, bracing, she let it fill her head as she militantly painted. Color came and went under her hands as she sloughed off a new vision and pulled the comforting customary into its place. Grief dripped free in ribbons of salty soot. The tap on the door went unnoticed, swamped beneath the cacophony in her mind.

Failed. Failed. Failed.

“Hey.”

Color slopped astray when she jumped at the voice. Her eyes snapped to the mirror, fixing studiously on the man behind her and not her own reflection. The reply she gave was all croak and no fooling to a Winchester.

“So...blue hair again?” Sam queried, offering her a hesitant smile.

She cleared her throat of the guilt before slapping out the truth.

“Well, brown hair is for blending in. You know, for real hunters.”

The bowl and brush slammed into the sink, blue showering wet and shiny onto the white porcelain as she ripped her gloves off. Her chin trembled as her chest clutched hard, and the need for air churned with the nausea in her belly, anxiety spiking sharp and cold along her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking Sam out because she didn’t deserve his understanding. This was her problem.

Failed. Failed. Failed.

“What happened wasn’t your fault.”

A croaking, choking sound broke from her as her head sagged down.

“Are you kidding me? How was it not my fault? You were there, Sam! It was a complete shit show!”

“Hunts go sideways all the time! How many times have you bandaged us up because it didn’t go the way we planned?”

She scoffed, swiping at her dripping grey tears.

“You guys are wired for that crap, Sam. It’s practically in your DNA. Have Cas check!” she snarked. “I trained for days for this. Days! The shooting and sparring with Dean, the research stuff with you, what-kills-what quizzes with Cas, and hours, frickin’ hours of what-iffing enough scenarios to fill a book. And for what? Nothing!”

The juggernaut of grief ripped free, shoving her anxiety up into her heart, throat, and head hard enough that her vision swam, pressing her down, down until the weight became too much as she wobbled to the tiled floor. Sobs, all the more painful as she tried to choke them back, filled the sudden silence like an uneven fall of breaking glass - sharp, hitching, hurting.

Slow, steady, Sam stepped close and sat. Near enough to reassure, far enough to not crowd.

“I just wanted -” Stopped as she dove her face into her drawn up knees.

“What?” The gentleness of his question squeezed more tears free.

“I just wanted it... to work. I thought being a hunter was what I wanted. All I wanted. And I just wanted it to work so bad. Why didn’t it work, Sam? Why couldn’t I make it work? Why?”

Sam’s chest vised hard and painful at the pure heartbreak on her face. He scooted himself closer, long fingered hands resting on her shins.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey,” he husked to her. “Listen to me.” Sam waited until she raised her gaze to his. “Now, you listen to me, alright? You did not fail.” His hands squeezed her legs for silence when she rolled her eyes to protest. “You didn’t. Hunting in the field...it’s fourteen kinds of crazy. And yeah, not gonna lie - the adrenaline rush in the moment? Wow. The feeling that gets me here,” he rubs one hand over his heart, “when we do save someone? Or put a tormented soul to rest? Knowing we made one little piece of this messed up planet better? There’s no feeling in the world like it.

“You didn’t fail. If you truly feel like being out in the trenches isn’t for you, that’s not failure. That’s courage! You know how many people keep clawing after something that isn’t for them? And they’re miserable. I know it hurts right now, and I’m so sorry you’re hurting. But, think about it. Having the guts to say ‘no’ to one dream, as awful as it feels in the moment, puts you on a path to a new one. And you?” Sam let all his admiration and care for her shine in his warm smile. “You are freaking amazing. And you’re going to do amazing things. Just..be gentle with yourself. And remember - we’re here for you. Whatever you decide to do.”

She let his words wash over her. Let their truth sink into her and loosen the stranglehold panic still scrabbling at her throat. A deep breath pulled in, and she nodded weakly, still heavy under everything. Ready to try and put some of it down.

Sam’s smile widened as he watched her nod, watched her body soften just a touch.

“Besides, I like your blue hair better, anyway.”

She snorted at that, swiping a wet blue strand out of her face and wiping the smudge of color left behind on her pants.

“So, did you draw the short straw for this deeply emotional encounter?”

A true laugh coughed from her scratchy throat as Sam’s eyebrows did a comical up-and-down dance.

“What? No! Just...no!”

A gentle tap on the door, and Dean poked his head in the bathroom.

“Hey, short straw. You finish telling her how kickass she is? And that Cas is currently stuck in the ice cream aisle at the store, trying to figure out if there’s any dangerous bits of porcelain in her favorite Ben and Jerry’s ‘Kitchen Sink’ ice cream?”

Chuckles bubbled up as Sam leveled his bitch face at Dean while the older man stepped over to help her to her feet.

“You’re bringing the mermaid hair back? Awesome! You gonna put any purple in with it this time? That look on you was my favorite!”

She let herself have the hug Dean pulled her in for, smiling tiredly.

“I don’t have the stuff for purple. But I’ve got enough to give you some blue.”

When Sam laughed at that, Dean scoffed at him.

“Bitch, please. I could rock me some blue hair.” Draping a companionable arm around her shoulders, he rubbed his hand on his chin as he pondered. “For Sammy, I’m thinking green. Bring out his eyes.”

Sam rolled those eyes hard enough to see inside his skull, and she shooed the brothers out so she could concentrate on her timer and color. For the moment, grief had let go. She wasn’t ready to think about new dreams yet, but in this instance, setting down this one didn’t sting as badly.

***********************************************

3 days later

“C’mon, girl, it’s movie night!” came Dean’s voice down the hall. She yanked her favorite hoodie over her head, grabbing her pillow as she sailed out the door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, keep your shirt on, Winchester,” she hollered back. Quick steps navigated to the Dean Cave, heart light as she welcomed the R&R with her family. Dean had even agreed to let her pick the movie. Turning the corner into the room, she stopped short, and burst into hysterical laughter.

Dean had aqua blue and teal strands glistening in his dark hair. Sam smiled, chagrined, when she took in the shamrock green throughout his own strands. And Cas, dear sweet Cas, looked preciously confused about the hot pink tufts poking up out of his fluffy tresses.

The look of delighted pride on Dean’s face, coupled with Sam’s resigned grin and Cas’ adorable but supportive bewilderment, had her leaning on the back of the couch as hilarity pealed from her in waves.

“Now we can be as awesome as you with our hair! Bring it in, mermaid.” Dean pulled her into one of his famous bear hugs as Sam tucked her pillow into her preferred spot on the couch. Cas proudly offered her a pint of ice cream and a spoon.

“I’ve thoroughly checked this for porcelain and nickel traces, it’s contaminant free from any kitchen sink particles.”

It was a sheer force of will that kept her from laughing right in his face as she snuggled into her spot.

It was never easy letting go of something so deeply desired. A part of her would always hurt at the loss, would always cry out ‘what if’. But today? Today she let her heart tell her the truth. Today, she knew she was loved, and she knew tomorrow was another chance.

Another chance to find a new dream.

[another-bryk-in-the-wall]

Wake Up, Little Laura (3/?)

Author’s Note: all i want is Laura and Ruben to be happy but I am an asshole so they have to suffer Warnings: talk of child abuse Part 1 Part 2

In the morning, Ruben was weirdly relaxed. As if he had woken up from a long bad dream. As if he had finished a marathon without training and was now able to sit for the first time in years. The blanket weighed a ton, keeping him in bed. After the success of the previous day, Ruben was allowed to take a few days off, enough time to reconnect with his reborn sister. Reawakened? Nobody really knew. But all that mattered was Laura and her smile at the bright billboards.

Laura blinked awake in her bed. The mattress felt harder than usual - probably because nobody had laid in it for 25 years. She turned around to face the window, the first sunlights of the day illuminating the room. The rest had done wonders to her body - she had hidden how grumpy she had been the day before. An arching neck and a growling stomach. Being in a coma or dead for 25 years isn’t a cool thing to deal with.

The nightgown she was wearing was dark red, a shade similar to blood. This very colour had been her favourite before she fell asleep for a long time, and even now she was drawn to it. 

One of the reasons why she loved it so much was the fact that helping Ruben was easier with this. All the experiments he was doing, the blood spilt - it was easier to deal with a blood red dress than a white or blue one. Together they’d collect the caracasses of roadkill, taking it into the barn. Ruben would slowly cut it open while Laura wrote down the findings. The amount of maggots in the body, how many bones had been broken in the body of the animal. It fueled Laura’s interest in both humans and animals, a fact her parents had never liked. You are a lady, they had said more than once, you shouldn’t be interested in science. Learn how to deal with living children, have some of your own and be a good wife. Absolutely not.

Not in this world, and not in this life.

Back in the day, Laura didn’t have many friends. Most of the people her age saw her as a stuck up rich bitch who excels in classes because of her private tutor. In reality she was a lonely one, often spending her weekends by a river close by, watching the fish and ducks in the area. She studied, yes, but just enough to make her teachers believe she had an interest in their classes. Why would she need history when she’d much rather work with recently deceased people instead of the ones that passed away a thousand years ago?

Laura moved the blanket off her body, her feet hitting the cold wooden floor. The temperature in her room had dropped overnight, hitting her as the warm and comfortable blanket was gone. Her teddy bear had fallen on the floor during her rest. Laura picked him up and tucked him in, he deserves some sleep too. Sometimes, she was still a child at heart.

Her closet was still in the same condition as on the fateful day 25 years ago. A bit of chaos, but a chaos where she could find everything. A simple red shirt with a jeans jacket along with some high waisted jeans. Why not? Laura changed and a few minutes later she was in the kitchen, making a cup of tea for both Ruben and her. He might be 35, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t her little brother at heart.

Ruben walked down the stairs only a bit later, tired and rubbing his eyes. “Morning.”, he said, but when Laura actually replied with a ‘good morning brother’, he stopped in his tracks. The day before hadn’t been a weird dream. Laura was actually alive, standing by the oven to heat up a kettle for their tea. Two pieces of sugar in his cup, just how he liked it when he was ten. Tears welled up in his eyes once more, and with big steps he walked to his sister, pulling her into a bone crushing hug. Laura just laughed and hugged back - she hadn’t been gone for that long in her mind! What are 25 years anyways?

“Oh Ruben…”, Laura muttered when the first tears hit her shoulder, a reaction so unknown to her when it comes to her brother. From the very start, he had been a stoic little man, not a lot could get him rolling. No bully ruining his sand castle, no weird people who drag their kids away because he seems weird. Nothing ever got Ruben as shaked up as the current situation.

He cried like babies do, wailing and sobbing. Laura was finally back. All these years of torture, research, sleepless nights, locked in a basement - they finally paid of. He had restored her. Ruben had his big sister back.

“So...what happened in those 25 years I was gone?”, Laura asked before taking another spoonful of her porridge, chewing the slimy wannabe muesli. Ruben, on the other side of the table, choked on his porridge, coughing for a while until he could open his mouth again without nearly spitting it all over the table.

“...a lot.”, Ruben choked out, staring down to the bowl he was eating from. Should he tell her about the countless people he had murdered just to get an inch closer to finding the cure? The dead bodies he had to walk on to carry her dead body?

“Well…”, Ruben started, Laura’s eyes fixed on him. “Mother and father are dead. Father kept me locked in the basement for ten years after the accident. Mother thought you and I both died. Father kept me locked away. A dirty secret in the basement…”, Ruben spoke, his voice filled with resentment. Years of abuse, beatings and barely any food had left their marks on him. Out of sight, out of mind. The cries his mother was haunted with weren’t from her dead children - they were from her very real son while his father beat him. Hard wood on his bare skin, more often than not on his barely healed wounds. The lack of vitamin D caused him to grow slower and barely heal. His appearance on this very day was a memory of those times. But he was better now. At least now he could see the sun when he wanted to see it.

“Dead…”, Laura muttered, sighing sadly. She wondered why they weren’t around, but having the confirmation that your parents had died...felt like a punch in the gut. Laura sighed and shoved her bowl a bit away from her, not hungry anymore. “And father really did these things to you? I mean...I know he was quite the violent man, but going as far as beating a clearly broken child? My God…”

She shook her head, looking up to the ceiling as she was now the one fighting with tears. Waking up in 2014, having your brother grow up without you while having to face abuse in previously unheard high degrees. No friends in your age as they had grown up without you too...and the walls broke down. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, dropping onto her blue jeans. Ruben sighed and stood up, now the one doing the comfort. His hug was just as tight as before, keeping her close and safe. And from now on, nobody would hurt Laura ever again. No fire. No God. No government. Ruben would make sure of this.

[melaninkimchi]

Go Back to Sleep (Jihoon x Reader)

It's been a while. I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. I have a Jihoon (Seventeen) x reader little something for our melanin girlies. This was inspired by a prompt. Warning: hints of depression and general mental health struggles. If you can relate, I hope this cheers you up! - Admin Nis

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Wash day has arrived yet again. You feel listless, uncomfortably warm tangled in the sheets. Without opening your eyes, you fling an arm out to your left. Ah. He isn't home, which means it's after 9am, which means you missed him again. For the third day in a row.

Jihoon was a sweetie, the husband you dreamed of. You unexpectedly fit together like puzzle pieces, an unlikely two out of millions. You tried to at least see him off in the mornings since he often came home after 8pm.

A failure you were, just like in almost everything else. You do your best to shake off the negativity. You know it's your brain talking, and not the real you. You know better than to believe every lie you come up with when you're in one of your spells.

A half hour goes by, and you spend it internally arguing with yourself before you grow tired of the cacophony and rise to at least get one thing done today.

To your surprise, the weight of wash day propels you to fix breakfast so you don't faint in the shower, lay out the fresh new pajama set that you had washed in your favorite detergent a week prior, and brainstorm what style you will try in your hair.

By noon, your hair is detangled, moisturized and it's time to twist. By 3pm, you are done, 3 episodes of your show completed and your entire 32 oz bottle of lemon water consumed. You feel awesome! Out of a sucky start of a day, you managed to complete one project to the end.

A late lunch is consumed, and then you deserve a nap. Nothing else pressing to do anyway. You settle into the now cool sheets, curtains drawn and fall into a pleasant sleep that isn't fueled by gloom.

You awaken to the familiar weight of Jihoon's arm atop the blanket. On really bad days, you don't even wake up, almost like you were trapped in the grey clouds raining incessantly in your dreams. But today isn't so bad, so you roll over and tuck your face against his chest. "Go back to sleep," he mutters, his arm bending to reach your upper back to rub circles.

"Did you eat dinner?" you ask, lips moving against the fabric of his t-shirt.

A beat, then a pause, "No," he admits and you feel his lips drop a kiss to your forehead. "Wanted to eat with you."

You smile, the first real one all day, and feel genuine happiness fill your being. "We should make something together," you suggest and wrap an arm around him in return.

"Mmm," he hums in agreement but makes no move. The two of you hold space before rising to create something together. He wasn't the cure, but he was certainly the comfort.

[kbstories]

Ontological

on·to·log·i·cal (adj.) Existing as such; metaphysical.

Eustass Kidd and Killer, during and afterwards.

(Or: Killer and SMILE, let’s talk about it.)

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Violence, Reunions, Body Dysmorphia

Read Chapter 1 here. Soft spoiler warning for Chapter 981. Content warning for discussions of Body Dysmorphia/BDD. Read Chapter 3 here.

***

They walk for hours, across dusty desert plains and past the outskirts of a bustling city to the very edge of a forest, every leaf covered in delicate frost. Kidd doesn’t have a single clue where they’re going – all he’s seen of Wano Country is a waterfall and the inside of a cell and what a lovely first impression that was – but Killer seems to, always two steps ahead of Kidd.

In that dark kimono and cloaked in patterned fabric, Killer looks like he belongs here, roaming wherever the wind carries him. All formal-like with his hair pulled up high and out of his face and his wrists bandaged all the way to his fingers.

Fucking uncomfortable is what he looks like, shoulders drawn and hands clenched where the grip of his scythes would be, and Kidd’s stomach roils with a fury that has nowhere to go.

Not right now, anyways.

Yet he’s still just Killer: despite the smile that remains on his lips, cold as the snow beneath their feet, despite the weeks they spent apart. Still the man that has been by his side since Kidd can remember, all the way back to the days they were snot-faced nobodies from South Blue dreaming of the wide-open sea and finding One Piece.

Killer’s always been a man of few words. He’s calmer now, hasn’t said much of anything since they left the prison gates behind. When Kidd had asked if he knew where the others were, Killer had nodded and led the way.

He hasn’t laughed either, as much as every breath threatens to change that. Kidd keeps a tight hold on his metal fist and doesn’t stare.

It’s quiet out here, eerily so. They come by a bridge and bloody arches splattered on cracked wood and snow alike. Across countless graves, old and frozen over to the point of illegibility – and while Killer’s gaze falls on the swords stuck in front of them, he does not stray from his path.

Idiot. Kidd rolls his eyes and gestures to a pair of short ones that are vaguely curved. They are torn from their place of rest with nary a sound; hovering, just as soundlessly, until Killer sighs and takes them in hand.

“A spirit guards this place”, he says, as if Kidd has ever given a shit about anything holy. Killer glances at Kidd’s deadpan stare, his eyes meeting Kidd’s before flitting away again, and Killer’s lips twitch. “It’s bad luck, that’s all.”

“Whatever”, Kidd huffs. Watches Killer draw each of the swords, quick and precise, and they can’t be all that crap given the care with which Killer ties them to the sash around his waist.

Onwards they go until the trees part and Killer finally stops. Kidd does so, too, shoulder to shoulder with him as the wind tears into the heavy fur of his coat. One step further the ground gives into a steep cliff and jagged rocks below. Beyond that: the rumbling of waves against shore.

They found the ocean.

Tucked into a cove, the Victoria Punk lies at anchor and there, in the middle of deck, a bonfire casts its warm glow. A light that calls her captain home and Kidd grins. They made it.

It’s a bit far to the metal in the Punk’s skull but Kidd doesn’t care. He reaches for it, feels its presence hum under the palm of his hand and it’s enough, the connection strong and unrelenting.

“Got her. Let’s go, Killer.”

Kidd’s metal arm opens to let him grab on and Killer– He stays right where he is, stiff under all those layers of fluttering fabric and Kidd looks at him. Really looks, his gaze searching for that face he knows so well and sees so rarely and much less like this, with lips pulled unnaturally wide and eyes shifting with hesitation.

A face none of the crew would recognize because they’ve never–

“They won’t care, K. You know they won’t.”

“I know”, Killer grinds out between clenched teeth. The thick muscles of his throat work; the chuckle still makes it out of his mouth, a strangled, joyless noise. “I know but–”

That’s the problem, isn’t it? That sliver of doubt that Killer’s worst fear could come true is almost as terrifying as the thing itself, and Kidd swallows whatever else is on his tongue. Promises himself he will speak every ounce of truth when the time is right, will whisper reassurances against Killer’s skin from here to eternity if that’s what it takes to make him believe them.

Kidd’s hand drops, as does the surge of power pulsating from it. “Okay.” He turns away from the Punk and towards Killer, a moment spent figuring things out before he tugs the cloak… thing off Killer’s shoulders.

(Killer doesn’t flinch from his touch but it’s close enough. Kidd pretends not to notice.)

Without hesitation Kidd digs metal fingers into the fabric and rips it apart, a long tear splitting the silk in two. Frowns at the one which is longer and dipped in old blood and shrugs. There are feathers on it.

It’ll do.

Killer is watching him, a line between his brows and his gaze a little squinted like he’s trying to gauge what the hell Kidd is up to. It makes Kidd wonder if whatever happened to him also affects his brain somehow because seriously.

“Get that shit off your face. I’ll do your hair.”

The tie keeping everything tightly bound suffers the same fate, shiny and expensive and ruined as Kidd throws it over his shoulder. Killer’s hair explodes into a familiar cascade of blonde in the matter of moments – the knots and tangled bits will take ages to comb out, which makes another item on Kidd’s to-do list.

Kidd shakes out the front until it falls over Killer’s eyes. “There”, he mumbles with some smugness and can’t help the nostalgic smile it brings to his lips. “Hah. This takes me back.”

Hidden by hair or not, Kidd knows where to catch the glint of Killer’s eyes in there and how they soften. “Mhm.”

The rest of Killer’s face is painfully bare without the bandages and so Kidd doesn’t linger. Just gives Killer the makeshift scarf he made and waits until he’s wrapped it around his neck and pulled it up to the bridge of his nose to tie it in place with a clumsy knot.

There. Not much finesse to it, the torn edges and messy strands clashing against Killer’s outfit with all its elegant folds and neat lines. Even muffled by the mask Kidd can hear the quiet sigh Killer breathes and something in him settles, too.

“C’mon. It’s fucking freezing out here.”

They come home.

*

Afterwards, that’s when Kidd asks.

After his boots hit deck for the first time in weeks and he thought finally; after both he and Killer were barreled over in a mass of hugs – warm, so warm – among shouts of “Captain!” and “Killer! You’re back!”; after Doc descended on them with the righteousness of a Valkyrie from myths and legends and Killer pointed at Kidd and said, “Kidd got shot”, and Kidd hissed back, “Bastard”, and didn’t mention the cuts hidden under that damned kimono (not yet); after Killer slinked off in the direction of their room (one hand keeping the mask in place, not that anyone had given a rat’s ass because the Punk’s right here and they’re all still breathing) and Kidd surrendered himself to his fate at Doc’s hands.

It’s what the crew needed, in that moment. Red-nosed and shivering from temperatures they’re not really made for, and Eustass Kidd is a captain to them all, not just Killer.

So he let Doc fuss over bullet wounds and overexposure to Sea Stone. He listened to Wire’s calm voice re-tell the story of how they got here, how Killer set off to find him and the day Pirate Hunter Zoro wandered by, clearly lost. In turn, Kidd told them the gist of what happened half a country away: about Udon’s downfall and the tides of rebellion crashing against Onigashima’s shores soon enough.

The bonfire burned on. There’s a decision to be made there, Kidd realized as he stared into its flames. Every expression around him carried the same conviction, encased in flickering orange and the bite of snow and Kidd knew, if he asked then and there, they would follow him into a war they'd lost once before.

Yet Killer’s not here and Kidd was tired, so fucking tired.

Across from him Heat shifted, a frown deepening the scars on their face with the things Kidd didn’t say: They have been with them longer than anyone else has, the first to join and the only one to have witnessed what’s beneath the mask. Heat’s gaze searched Kidd’s over the glowing embers between them and they, too, didn’t press for answers.

They smiled, instead, old stitches pulled taut. “Dinner’s on me. Welcome back, Captain.”

Through it all Kidd bit his tongue and waited. Killer is nowhere to be found when he finally steps into the captain's cabin: There’s a pile of used bandages and dark silk on the floor, the sound of a shower running the next room over. Filthy as it is, Kidd deems his fur coat a lost cause and tosses it to the ground along with the rest.

After days of wear, the clothes peel off like a second skin. The dust of the stone pit has been washed off yet it lingers, stuck under painted nails and in the greasy spikes of Kidd’s hair.

The goggles come off next. Kidd… sits, for a while, buck-ass naked on the edge of the bed occupying most of their quarters. Lets his fingers run over old, black leather and the holes missing studs have left behind, and his eyes are dull where they’re mirrored by tinted glass, monochromatic.

Killer’s mask is right there. Blue-and-white, mounted on its stand, not a single scratch on it – Killer’s design and Kidd’s handiwork, its individual pieces welded into place damn near perfectly so it won’t come off unless Killer wants it to.

Kidd stares at it, alone in this space they carved for themselves in this world, and remembers: Killer’s laugh, choked and wrong; Killer’s body, limp in the water; Killer’s face, tear-stained and bared for everyone to see–

Fuck.

Kidd’s palm is rough against his face, skin grown tough with callouses and burn marks. His fingers dig into his mouth and his scar and his eyes and they sting as his eyeliner smudges beyond repair.

How the fuck do I fix this?

Steam rolls into the room like thunder over the sea, the air charged and heavy with it. The bed dips behind him, legs bracketing his; hands slide over Kidd’s back to his chest, slightly damp. Naked skin against naked skin.

This is the thing Kidd missed the most, locked away and powerless.

“Kidd.”

There’s layers to it, the way Killer says his name. A weight behind that one word that invokes the thousand other times he has uttered it just like this, lips a phantom sensation at the nape of Kidd’s neck. The smile is still there, Kidd can feel it, and that too is a memory made physical.

It’s warm summer nights, it’s skinned knees and knocked out teeth, it’s mornings spent in bed with the Punk’s lazy sway beckoning them back to sleep.

Kidd loves Killer’s smile, has loved it before people started mocking him for it and continued to love it past the day Killer decided to hide it. He’d hoped, even as he made that mask, that a time would come when it wouldn’t be needed.

Not like this, though. Not against Killer’s will.

“It’s that SMILE shit, isn’t it?”

Finally, finally Kidd gives voice to the question burning in his mind, his heart, his lungs. Killer’s arms tighten around him but Kidd can’t hold back, can’t–

“Those fake Devil Fruits Strawhat was talking about, that’s what causing this. That’s why you can’t stop. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Killer is a force of nature on the battlefield, a whirlwind of blades and raining blood – here, now, his chest shifts against Kidd’s back with a breath that trembles on the line of becoming a laugh. “You’re not.”

Finally, Kidd allows himself to feel the ache at his core, the sheer grief of it all. The goggles drop to the ground as his fingers claw at fire-red hair instead, pulling. Pain, sharp, sizzles across his scalp, does nothing but add to the suffocating pressure building in Kidd’s throat because there’s no way out of this.

Artificial or not, Devil Fruits are forever.

“Why, Killer? You’re strong, they can’t… Just eating the fruit doesn’t work, you gotta swallow it. You gotta want it. What the fuck were you thinking?!”

And damn Killer, damn him for hearing Kidd’s voice shake and wrapping around him like Kidd’s the one falling apart. For running his hand over Kidd’s until he clings to that instead, strong and steady where Kidd can’t be, not anymore.

They’ve always been together, their lives and pasts and dreams entangled and breathing as one. From South Blue to the New World they've kept this secret safe and–

“There was a choice. They gave me a choice, Kidd.”

It’s mumbled right against Kidd’s ear like the truth will hurt less if spoken quietly. Because there’s no regret in Killer’s voice, none, and there’s only one thing he’d give up everything for.

Kidd clenches his eyes shut, groans out, “No–”

Killer doesn’t let him go, pressing a kiss to his shoulder with smiling lips.

“I just picked the one I could live with.”

>>Chapter 3.

[whiskas-pandastar]

Comfort

Shicca Week 2020

Day 1 - Day 3 -  Day 4

Day 2: Prompt: Comfort

Rating: K+

Word Count: 1386

Genre: Romance/Humor

Shiki shuffled into the dark room and closed the door as silently as he could. He tiptoed towards the bed and managed to hit his knee against a piece of furniture and he grunts in pain. At the disturbance, Rebecca's eyes open groggily, "Hmm?" she stares the figure in front of her. "Shiki?" she calls out in recognition.

"Rebecca." Shiki replied back in a hushed tone, aware that Happy was still fast asleep beside her.

"Shiki, what's wrong?" she wakes up, feeling slightly worried.

"No- it's nothing. I'm sorry to wake you up-" he says guiltily.

"Why are you here?" she asked him, trying to gauge out his expression in the darkness. He hesitated and seemed reluctant to answer. "I-I couldn't sleep."

"What happened? Was it a bad dream?" Rebecca pressed. He was acting really weird, being all hesitant and quiet. "Answer me, Shiki." she questioned sternly.

"T-There's a bug in my room. " Shiki finally let out and whimpered sadly. He absolutely hated bugs of any kind. While he wasn't completely foreign to bugs back on Granbell, he made it a rule to avoid them.

Rebecca grumbles as she flops back into her bed, "Shiki! It's not that big of a deal!" she shoos him away. "Go back to your room, it won't do anything to you."

"Please Rebecca, let me sleep here!" Shiki pleads helplessly. "I can't sleep in there knowing that there is a bug infestation under my bed!" he shuddered comically, drawing his arms around himself.

Rebecca can't believe that they were having this conversation at this hour of the night. "Absolutely-" she glances in worry as Happy moves a little in sleep and then settles. She lowers her volume and hisses, "Absolutely not!"

"But Rebecca-!"

"No buts! Why don't you go to Weisz's room? I'm sure he won't mind sharing his room for a night." she remarks as softly and sternly as she could.

"I tried but he refused to open his door." Shiki grunts and pouts slightly like a child. "Please Rebecca? Only for tonight." he begs once again.

Rebecca feels like she's walking into a trap as she eyes his resigned and exhausted stature. And he was making that sad and insanely adorable puppy face, which always successfully melted her heart. She trusted him enough to be sure that he wouldn't try any underhand tricks and she knew about his terrible phobia of bugs. She would drive away the bug for him but she was simply too sleepy to wake up from the comfort of her bed. Furthermore, she does not want to come off as completely uncaring, even though he was the one guilt-tripping her right now.

She sighs as she relents and scoots over. "Okay, fine. Just for tonight."

She doesn't need to see his face to understand how delighted Shiki is, and she pushes the flood of second thoughts coming her way, the sleep already getting the better of her.

Shiki quickly slips into the bed like a happy kid and she warns him, poking him in the chest, "You stick to your side of the bed, alright? And don't touch me or try anything weird. Got it? Happy is right here beside me." she added menacingly. "And also no snoring!"

But Shiki is simply too overjoyed to care, "Ok-ay!" he accepts in a sing-song manner. They lay in silence, only the sound of breathing echoing softly and the ticking sound of a clock somewhere in room. Shiki closes his eyes and attempts to fall asleep but somehow, all the sleep in him had disappeared somewhere.

He tries to use a sleep technique Homura had told him about that helped her to sleep. He started counting backwards.

"100,99,98,96,93,92..."

Rebecca's scent was so good.

"91,80,no it was 89, 88..."

Her long, soft hair pricked his arm slightly.

"76...75,73,72,71..."

She was just an arm's length away from him.

"68,65...59,58,57"

Suddenly a light snore sounds in the room.

Shiki had to stop himself from bursting out laughing as he realizes that Rebecca was the one who was snoring.

He has already lost track of the counting and his thoughts drift over to the ash blonde girl sleeping beside him. He thinks of her kindness, her strength, bravery and intelligence, the times when she goes berserk against her enemies, her crazy love for food and dedication to her blog. The sheer confidence she carried herself. Shiki felt drawn to her day by day. He didn't know what he was feeling, but he knew that he wanted to be with her as much as possible, be it for an adventure in some corner of the cosmos or simply shooting a crazy video.

All his thoughts lose focus as he feels arms wrap around his torso. He jumps slightly on the contact and finds Rebecca clinging to him. "Rebecca?" he whispers, heart pounding in his chest. But she doesn't stir or reply. She was fast asleep.

Shiki sighs, keeping his hands off her as he promised. The last thing her wanted was to be sent back to his room. With the bit of the moonlight that poured through the blinds, he stares down at her features; the soft fluttering of her eyelashes, the way her nose scrunched, the curl of her lips. Gingerly, Shiki extends out a hand and pushes away a stray strand of hair that fell over her face, behind her ear.

He freezes as she stirs in her sleep. It seemed like she was seeing a dream. With bated breath, he waits and then she mutters, "Hmm... double cheese burst pizza... " She licks her lips.

Once again, Shiki struggled to stop himself from bursting out laughing at her.

Shaking his head, he closes his eyes and sleep finally comes back his way. Maybe it's because of how comfortable the bed is or how her scent relaxes him and how amazing her arms feel around him.

-x

Homura knocks lightly on Rebecca's door. "Good morning, Rebecca! Breakfast is ready!"

When she doesn't hear an answer, she pushes the button to open the automated door. She leaves the door open as she strides in. With the sunlight streaming in through the blinds, she sees a lump on the bed.

"Wake up, Rebecca. Everyone is waiting." She calls out as there is a movement.

"Hey, have you seen Shiki? Apparently, he's not in his room." Weisz stands at the doorway, still yawning. “I think he was knocking at my door last night. I was too tired to wake up.”

"I can't say I have." Homura replies and then turns to wake up Rebecca again. "Rebecca, we're going to arrive at Blue Garden soon. Hurry up."

Rebecca stirs beneath the blankets, "Five more minutes..." she mutters hoarsely.

Beside her, Happy pulls himself off the tangle of blankets. "Good morning, Weisz, Homura!" The android cat greets them cheerfully. "Rebecca is as usual, not a very morning person." he sighs shaking his head.

A mischievous grin works up on Weisz's face as he walks to the foot of her bed. "Becky~ wakey wakey!" He grabs the blanket and pulls it over, but nothing prepares them for the sight before them.

Homura, Weisz and Happy gawk as they stare, Shiki and Rebecca lying on the same bed pressed against each other, limbs tangled together.

After a moment, Rebecca grumbles and sits up drowsily. "Weisz!" She frowns at their expressions and the feeling of something clinging to her waist, "What is-" and then her eyes fall on Shiki's sleeping figure beside her, arms wrapped around her waist.

"Kyaa!" Rebecca pushes Shiki off the bed, and he falls on the floor with an 'oof'. "Wait a second! It's not what you think!" she splutters, blushing madly as Shiki shoots everyone a look of confusion, sleep still clouding his mind.

Homura recovers, a blush heating up her own cheeks, "I-Its fine, Rebecca. We're sorry for barging in! At your age it's fine to-"

Rebecca howls in embarrassment, "It's not that! Oh my God, it's not what it looks like, I swear!"

"Ugh, honestly I didn't know Shiki had it in him." Weisz turns away, running a hand through his hair, a blush rising up his neck too.

"That's not it!!!" Rebecca screeches loudly, in an ear splitting voice, driving away any possible signs of morning drowsiness among the Eden’s Zero crew effectively.

-x

A/N: Thank your likes on the previous post :D  a house tour video by Rebecca is long due! I need to see more of the Eden's zero ship and their daily lives :D Anyway, did you guys read the new manga update? I wonder who Weisz's important person is!

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Oh my god they were roommates part 3

You are forced to take over the monitoring of Loki. Snapshots from the life of being a god handler.

It’s weird how a phrase or sentence can inspire a whole story. In this case it was “A polished turd is a turd nonetheless.” This is what grew from it. The whole story is almost 13.000 words long, so I felt I had to split it into parts. 

The next part will be the last part, and I’m hoping I’ll get around to posting it tomorrow.

If you like it, let me know. Knowing that people enjoy my writing is what keeps me posting my stories.

Word count: 2299

Part one   Part two

_______________________________________________________________________

The months passed quickly as you and Loki settled into a sort of quiet routine together. You learned a lot about him; his favourite books, that he preferred the autumn to the summer, and that he was surprisingly gentle if you only allowed him to be.

Another thing you learned quickly was that Loki preferred a savoury breakfast. He was usually up before you anyway, and had eggs and bacon ready when you stumbled into the kitchen fantasising about extra strong coffee.

But every now and then you woke early, either because you had extra work to do, or simply because you couldn’t sleep, and then you made pancakes. The first time that happened, Loki scoffed.

“Pancakes are a dessert, Y/N. Not a breakfast food.”

Shrugging, you continued cutting berries into halves. “Well then, Loki, let’s be adults and have dessert for breakfast. What’s stopping us? I mean, if you aren’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Loki looked at you as if you were crazy, but he sat down to eat anyway, and by the second pancake he was positively glowing.

Once you were full and had moved to the living room again, you decided to get some work done. Having a home office was a plus with this new mission. You didn’t even want to think about the looks from the other agents in the office if you had to come in every day.

“Hey, I read a book I think you’ll like,” you said, producing a battered soft cover from your bag and tossing it at Loki.

Of course he caught it just before it hit his head. Sharp reflexes were another skill you noted behind your ear. “Something from the Nightside?” He frowned, turning the book over to read the back. After a short silence, he opened it to the first page. “Thank you.” You heard nothing much from him for the rest of the day, but when the clock struck five, he asked you if you had book number two too.

_______________________________________________________________________

Loki looked like a thundercloud, even more so than he used to. His eyes were dark grey, and his face was drawn. He had pulled his lips into a tight sneer that never seemed to loosen, and when he moved through the flat, it sounded like he was trying to stomp the pictures off the walls.

You tried to mind your own business, as you usually did when he had these little moods, but this time he was infecting you as well. By lunchtime you were both on the verge of war.

After his fifth groan in the span of two minutes, you walked over and sat down on the sofa next to him. “Bad day?” It was obvious, but you had to try to be understanding if you were going to get through the day alive.

“You could say that. I’ve got a headache that would even put a frost giant to shame. And yes, I am aware of the irony in that. Don’t talk to me.”

You let out a small huff; surprised he was even answering, let alone giving you a reason. “Oh. Should I go get a –“

“No. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works. After the… incident in 2012, my head sometimes feels like it’s about to implode.” He rubbed his eyes and got up.

“Wait,” you said, your own frustrations dissipating fast, pulling him back down by his sleeve. “May I try something? My sister used to get these horrible migraines and the only thing that helped was when… I played with her hair.” It sounded silly, and you cringed having suggested it to a man who were considered a god by some.

“Fine. Why not?” He shrugged and scooted closer to you.

You blinked. He was really that desperate. That headache must really be of another world. “Wait here,” you muttered and went to close the curtains. On your way back, you flicked off the light too. The darkness was almost complete, and the only thing providing some light for you to navigate by was the blinking green light from the internet router behind the TV.

Keeping your voice as airy and light as you could, you climbed onto the backrest of the sofa and asked Loki to lean on your knees. “Close your eyes if you can. And let me know if I pull too hard.” As gently as you could, you separated his hair into equal parts. It was softer than you had expected, and you let it glide over your fingers before gathering it in your hand again. Suddenly you had an inexplicable urge to sniff it, but you resisted, and started braiding instead.

Small warrior style braids on the side of his head met larger ones in the back, and once all of his hair was done, you ran your fingers through and loosened it again. Twisting a lock into a knot, then releasing it again made him sigh loudly. Combing your hands up through his hair and running your fingers over his scalp had him sag against your knees. You smiled.

You had played with his hair for over an hour, and to be honest you had forgotten that it was supposed to be for his benefit, not yours. It was just that his hair was so incredibly silky and luxurious to touch that you lost yourself completely in the sensation. It wasn’t until his head lolled over and rested heavily on your knees and thighs that you returned to reality.

Loki had fallen asleep while you played, and the peaceful look in his face made you all tingly and warm inside. Without jostling him too much, you slid out from underneath him and lowered him back on the sofa. He sniffed and clutched a cushion to his chest with a tiny, tiny smile. Fighting the urge to go get your phone to snap a picture, you grabbed the nearest blanket and draped it over him. It was your time to make lunch anyway.

_______________________________________________________________________

You stumbled through the door, knocking over the umbrella stand, a pair of wellingtons, and the coat stand, scattering jackets and scarves all over the floor. “Shhh…” you hissed, gesturing to the pile of clothes before clutching your mouth gingerly. “Owww.”

“Isn’t it a bit early to be drunk, Y/N? While I completely understand, I thought it was generally frowned upon to drink in the daytime.” Loki was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning on the frame with a spatula in his hand.

“Not drunk.” Rubbing your jaw, you felt tears pool in your eyes. Great! Now you were crying too.

Taking you by the arm, Loki supported you into the living room, making sure you were comfortable on the sofa before stepping away, his face stiff and cold. “What happened? Who did this to you? Were you on a mission? I thought you had desk duty while minding me.”

You shook your head, but that made you dizzy, so you stopped. As you opened your mouth to answer, a long string of saliva dripped out. Your ears burned as you wiped your mouth on your sleeve. “Dentist.”

Loki frowned.

“Had to fix a cavity,” you muttered, sinking deeper into the soft cushions. “Don’t react too good to local anaesthesia. Fuzzy,” you added, tapping the side of your face with a languid finger. “Sleep?”

Loki nodded. “Yes. Maybe you’ll be more comfortable in your bed?” he asked, but you were already snoring. Smiling to himself, he fetched a blanket and draped it over you and brushed away a stray lock of hair from your eyes. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

A couple of hours later you woke up feeling like someone had punched you in the face. Your jaw was pounding, and the corner of your mouth felt stretched and cracked. Groaning, you pulled the blanket over your head, dreading the short walk to the kitchen for water and painkillers.

When the pain got too much to endure anymore, and you decided you would finally brave the walk, you carefully sat up, sliding your legs over the edge of the sofa. The movement made your head swim, but you steeled yourself.

Giving yourself an extra push to get up, you noticed a glass of water and two aspirin on the table. “Huh. Past me was pretty smart. I’m amazed I had the awareness to even find this,” you muttered.

_______________________________________________________________________

You had lived together for almost a year. It was a comfortable partnership, and you had found you really liked Loki. His calm demeanour and creative humour was a welcome contrast to the monotonous days in the office. Whenever you had the opportunity, you opted to work from home.

“I’m heading out. You want something from the shops?” Loki called from the door.

Jumping out of your chair, you tried to stop him. “Hey wait up!” You hobbled after him, trying to pull on your boots while walking.

He turned around, looking inconvenienced as always. When you caught up with him, he grimaced, picking a piece of lint off your jumper. “What?”

You smiled and finally managed to wrestle your foot down into the boot. “Nothing. Just figured I’d come with you. Can’t have a repeat of the Chocolate Incident.” You made a show of shuddering, exaggerating both movement and sound.

“Right,” Loki replied with a roll of his eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. “The Chocolate Incident.”

The memory made you both wince and smile. It seemed so long ago now, just after you had moved in: you had woken up from your back aching, making it difficult to turn over in the bed, and as you lay there trying to ignore the pain, another one punched you in the guts. Days like these were the worst.

Sliding out of the bed, you pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants and wrapped yourself in the blanket, not bothering with changing out of your sleep shirt. Your hair fell in knotted tufts in your face. Blowing them away didn’t help, so you let them be and continued to the kitchen.

You stopped in the door, watching as Loki cooked. With a sigh you entered the room: you really just wanted to be alone and wallow in self-pity. This was not a situation that had crossed your mind when you had been forced to volunteer for the mission.

Loki turned around, on his way to put a spatula in the dishwasher when he spotted you. “Good grief. Are you sick?” He looked at you with distant concern, and you felt tears pool in your eyes.

Blinking them away, you shook your head to buy your voice enough time. “Shark week,” you muttered.

He frowned and tilted his head. “I don’t really see how a TV programme has anything to do with your condition. Do you want me to call a doctor?”

Sighing again, you rolled your eyes, not wanting to have to explain. “I’ll be okay. Just gimme the chocolate in the back of the small cupboard and nobody gets hurt. My back hurts like a motherfucker, and satan’s waterfall isn’t making things any better,” you said, gesturing to the general area of concern.

“What? …oh.” With that realisation he turned to the cupboard in question. “Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate…” For a moment he was silent, moving the other contents around on the shelf before freezing. “Oh. That chocolate.” He sucked air through his teeth and turned slowly to face you. “I… am truly sorry,” he said, and his face showed exactly that.  “When I could not sleep the other night, I… Had I known it was your… time, I would have replaced it immediately.”

You groaned to stop yourself from crying, and turned dramatically on your heels. Marching through the hallway, you growled: “I’ll be in my room if you need me. Don’t disturb me unless it’s an emergency.”

There was a half eaten packet of Twizzlers in the bedside table, and luckily you had a handful of painkillers, but you weren’t going to forgive Loki anytime soon. That chocolate was your favourite, and it was notoriously hard to find, so when you did find it, you hoarded and saved it for difficult days. Like this day.

Shaking yourself out of the memory, you smiled to Loki and followed him down the stairs.

Loki’s preferred shop was just around the corner; a medium sized shop with an amazing fresh produce section, and you liked it because they had several aisles of candy.

“Hey, can we get PopTarts?”

Loki turned, looking like an exasperated parent dealing with an annoying kid.  “Absolutely not!”

“Aw, why?” you pouted.

“Because that’s a sure way to attract my brother, and I am not in the mood to deal with him these days.”

“Ooh. I’d love to meet Thor some day,” you thought out loud.

Loki glared at you.

Holding up your hands, you smiled apologetically. “Okay, okay. But then we have to buy cookies.”

Loki sighed and shook his head in defeat. “Why do you have to be so happy all the time?”

“Because we’re shopping for candy.”

“We’re not just shopping for candy. What do you want for dinner?”

Your eyes lit up. You didn’t often get to choose. “Spaghetti.”

“Again?” He made a weird face, but put a packet of pasta in the shopping basket.

You stuck out your tongue. “So I like pasta. Sue me.”

“Don’t think that would do any good,” he snickered, continuing to the next aisle. “Pretty sure they’d rule in your favour.”

A distant rumble made you both stop in your tracks. Another one came, followed by a loud chime from your phone. The chocolate in your hand was immediately forgotten when you read the text: “Code RED. Report to HQ.”

Part four 

_______________________________________________________________________

@80percentmarvel @tardis-is-mine @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @jessiejunebug @thefuriousquake @wolfgar15

[spacegaywritings]

Communication of Silence - Chapter 12 “Spi(c)es 2″

Summary: Virgil runs into Patton at therapy. Turns out Patton, Virgil and Picani all know one another.

Tags: therapy, panic, anxiety, grounding techniques, a lot of stress for Virgil, miscommunication, apologies, soft logan, supportive patton, coffee mention, skin picking, fidgeting

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 12,5 / 13 / 14 + Tumblr: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 12,5 / 13 / 14 +

  My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

 Story under the cut (Word count ~6k):

Virgil carefully stepped out of the room, legs a bit shaky and heart light.

Their mind was still trying to wrap around the that leaving this room was akin the world of hope and falling back into the pits of darkness. Knowledge a dagger in their hand to cut through every tendril of doubt and mishap that attempted to pull them into the abyss of despair once more. 

 Sometimes, talking was harder than they liked it to be but at least it was over. It equipped them with the right tools to figure themself out, to make life in the darkness better. At some point, they would find their light and banish every and all lingering piece of threatening shadows. 

Admittedly, they did feel better. Their body was just shook from all the feelings and shit. Battling your demons was a chore but winning them over was a privilege of knowing how to. Sometimes trial and error was enough.

Sometimes, people needed to dip into the confidentiality of a professional to master the art of negotiating peace with oneself. 

 Stupid feelings.

 Life was already hard enough. 

Living with toxic thinking was unnecessarily exhaustive. It felt like an extra punishment after every hardship people went through. 

 From all they knew, it was worth it. 

Going out, hands free and heart open was a blessing. Exploring the outside with an objective vision instead of spiking darkness at any corner of their mind.. it was.. it was a relief. 

Work came with it, sure, but what in life didn't come without a price? Virgil had already decided that therapy was annoying. But it was annoying and absolutely worth it. 

Ever time they stepped out of the care of their therapist, they knew their world was painted in new colours. Every time they opened their eyes to see new kindness and be surprised by a sudden brightness around them, they felt affirmed in their decision to stick with it and fight the battle of his own absurd thinking. 

The student ran their hands through purple hair and sighed once more.

It was over.

It was helpful.

They had done all that had been asked from them.

 Their shoulders were lighter and, as usual, life seemed a bit kinder than before. 

On top of that... 

A realisation nudged them and a smile appeared on their face.

Dee!

Within a split second, they already took their phone out and unlocked the screen with swift movements. Their eyes barely looked at the password as their fingers confirmed it and immediately clicked the messenger icon to contact Dee.

 By now, she should be done with work. Or at least soon. They shot a quick message to her. Just to make sure she was informed.

   *Conversation between Dee♥ and you.*

 Today.

 You, 3.51pm: Did your stupid therapy. Happy?

(sent)

  “Oh, Virgil. What on earth are you doing here?”

 A voice of genuine surprise banged against heir head and ripped them out of his comfortable thought bubble of being together with Dee by the next day. 

For now, the dream was squished back onto the bench. With drops of disappointment souring their mind for the moment. 

Instead, they were met with the rather neutral and beige office in which people were received for therapy.

 Reality.

 Before them, the familiar sigh of a certain walking hug made their spiking heartbeat calm down and refrain from thumping up their throat.

 “P-patton?”, they asked in a small voice, their question coming out as a startled squeaking more than anything at this point.

They sounded unusually quiet and insecure compared to how Patton perceived them during the last days. It reminded him an odd amount of when they had met for the first time and Virgil had resembled a scared, abandoned kitten in the streets that was met with a stranger’s warm hands for the first time.

 Virgil swallowed their dumb question away and shrugged the obvious answer into their conversation.

 “I, u.. I could ask you the same. You came for an appointment?”

 Patton chuckled and shook his head, his ginger candy strands of hair flying wildly and eventually nestling against his pale skin once more.

He looked like a little pastel prince of the kindness and forgiveness kingdom. 

 “Aw, no kiddo. I do not go to therapy, I am learning how to provide for other people. I am working with Dr. Picani for my master’s thesis. I only came by to drop something for him at the reception.”

 As if on cue, the leading therapist in question stormed out of his office and waved at Patton. If Emile had been a life guard this would have meant the worst of all cases. But what did frantic waving stand for at the therapist's? 

 “Patton, wait a min-”

 His outcry was interrupted as he finally made his way over to the two talking students. Apparently, his mind took a while to comprehend the view before him as well as the fact that he was still in the middle of a sentence.

 “Oh Virgil, how come you are here today?”

 The emphasis on the last word was the core of his question. 

There was no wonder about them being there at all. 

Virgil shuffled their shoes and looked down to be met with the sight of one green and one purple shoe. The green one had leaves and bamboo sticks drawn all over it in a darker shade of green - much like the forest's rich leaves during midsummer. The purple one had a little galaxy-like image on the inside of where their ankle should be. Rain showers of white suns and blue glimmers adorned the little piece of space. 

They had drawn it on their own after dyeing their godforsaken, old-as-balls shoes. Kyle had inspired them to fix them up with some nifty drawings. Now they looked admirably special and were worth being desired greatly. 

 “Emergency session”, they said, shrugging, “I am all good, now. Promise, Em.”

 They did not realise the slight frown weighing Patton’s candybrows down just the slightest bit. Within just a moment, the shadow of doubt was gone and he decided to take the lead of the conversation.

 The confusion still left an imprint on the back of his mind. He had never heard anyone talk so intimately to Emile. It was not his business but a part of him wondered, how Virgil and Picani knew each other. 

Curiosity was indeed a human vice. 

But.. pet names like this were usually not exactly a therapy-client relationship.

Not his business, he reminded himself with waning patience. 

 “Anyway, what did you want from me? I can be right on my way and let you two catch up after you told me.”

 Emile’s face lightened up in realisation and he revealed a rather familiar sports bag Virgil had seen on him before. It was Patton’s and he had seen him return from his night shifts with this. 

Did he have another shift right now? All the more reason to consider Ri's offer. 

 “You forgot your bag when you dropped your scripts over here. Thank you for not being cranky about me being so busy - I was just on a call right now and couldn't delay it. ”

 It was Virgil’s turn to move their face, one single eyebrow arching up for just a moment.

Emile evidently avoided looking at them as he spoke these words. That bastard totally hid something. 

 A call.. hmm. 

 Patton noticed the change with a little pat to his heart but he took a deep breath to shift his attention back to the topic at hand.

It wasn't his business, no matter how tempting and curious it seemed to be. If any of them wanted to talk, they would decide that. Not he. 

 “Ah, yes. Thank you so much. I was on the way home now. Virgil, do you want me to wait for you and take you with me?”

 Oh holy fucking shit.

Virgil bit their lip and looked at the tallest of the three, an undefinable tension in their eyes. Not once before had Patton seen a look of trouble like that before. Not from the usually either shy and cautious kitten or the straight up fierce tiger that was the smaller punk. 

 “I-...”

 Their mouth simply stood open and they blinked at Patton as if he had just asked them to choose between two of his dearest friends - one would be lost forever and never to be met or befriended again, while the other one was ensured to stay around by force of magic and the supernatural law of weird situations and horrible choices forced onto people.

 No one would take a decision as that lightly. 

The small student just shrugged but before they could even open their mouth to speak up again, Emile was audibly gasping.

 “No way, you two are living together! This is amazing! I never knew! Look at you two making a great duo! I bet you are getting along so well!”

 At once, a warmth settled on Patton’s face and his head moved to a nod while Virgil shrugged and stole a single glance at the giant.

Their cheeks grew warm and redder.

 “Guess‘s not so bad”

 Virgil grimaced but the soft laugh from Patton and affirming “you are lovely to cook with”, let their lips move from awkward grin to a genuine, lop-sided smile.

 The doctor in pastel pink and beige brown was producing an air of warmth.

 “I am sure you are a team, better than Jessie and James!"

  Patton gave the comment a little chuckle and Virgil shook their head yet a smile was still visible on their face.

They would never be able to deny just how much they relished in the simplicity of these jokes making any situation less awkward. If it was not for any other person, Virgil knew that the ginger giant from candyland was definitely the person at fault for them enjoying stupid puns so much.

 He just strategically used them so well in any situation. It was like the right tool to disarm any bomb about to explode and he did it without breaking a sweat.

Emile was just silly - a little less cunning and definitely more upfront about negative vibes.

 Maybe it was because he was older and knew to address certain issues. Perhaps Patton just wanted to keep peace?

 They were overthinking.

They had to stop.

Now.

 Before Virgil could go on a mental rant to yell at themself for still ruminating over it and possibly kicking themself into disliking Patton, an all-too familiar sound came up. The sound that appeared whenever “Law and Order” switched between scenes or skipped time or anything.

 Virgil jolted a bit but reacted fast.

 “Holy snowflake, this was sudden”, Patton exclaimed with little breath left in his lungs and an assuring hand over his heart to calm his nerves.

The sound had been quite loud and he felt like he had heart it before.

 All the while, a grin was spread all over Virgil’s face and the awkward student forgot about their thoughts and worries for a bit. Even the current situation and conundrum seemed to have disappeared.

They typed away fast, a little mumble escaping their curved lips without them noticing.

  *Conversation between Dee♥ and you.*

 Today.

 You, 3.51pm: Did your stupid therapy. Happy?

(sent)

 Dee♥, 4.00 pm: I am killing it and I sincerely hope you did too. *snake emoji* *smirk emoji*

 Dee♥, 4.00 pm: Anyway, how are you holding up darling? Did the cartoon enthusiast catch you in time?

 You, 4.00 pm: Next to him.

You, 4.01 pm: Patton is here. Fucking kill me.

You, 4.01 pm: He asked to bring me home but I thought about going to Ri. Em could easily take me.

(sent)

  The response was a quick “yikes” but his attention was drawn back into the conversation before they got to message back.

The phone was rattling with another sudden sound but Virgil took the second flinch from Patton and turned off the sound.

 “Sorry”

 Emile shook his head quickly, a little smile painting his patient features and Virgil felt already hugged and pleasantly scolded like from a caring parent.

It was an odd feeling.

 “Remember to not apologise for yourself. You had your reasons to reply. I hope she is doing well - I assume it is the loyal Sapphire to your own Ruby self.”

 Patton’s spirits returned. His freckled face was beaming and he quickly hugged his bag against himself.

 “Aw, how adorable! I never thought of you in this way! Emile, how dare you give me this gem of feelings”

 He winked and Emile winked back.

 OOF.

 Virgil’s groan could be heard in the far distance of edgy teenager land while the adults were giggling at one another like little schoolgirls. It was oddly adorable.

Seeing Patton laughing was another level of comforting.

 “Uh, yeah.. talking about gem and shit”

 Wow, what a horrible start Virgil - wait. No. It was an okay start. Just a start. They would not mind and if they did, who cared. It was just a st- just a sentence.

Yeah.

 “I might get my gem ass over to Ri and sleepover because, uh, yeah. I think he would be happy to have me around tonight.”

 Virgil looked down at their shoes and shrugged. A part of their mind was still wildly roaring and telling them that this was a horrible sentence and how Patton would hate them now and despise them for everything.

And Emile? Maybe he would be jealous or get upset at them upsetting Patt-

 No. No

Stupid thoughts.

Bullshit thoughts.

They went to therapy to not have any of these thoughts anymore.

It was bullshit, anxiety was just being some overdramatic shit and it was a help to nobody so it was time to fucking stop the fuck now.

 They shrugged again and looked to the side before back at Patton.

 “Sor- I mean.. thank, uh.. thanks for offering a ride but I think I will go to my family and make sure they know I am okay and shit. I uh... they worry, you know.”

 Virgil offered a little smile. The pang of guilt jotted into their mouth and made it harder to smile but the lips stayed into position despite their little trembles and struggles to stay still.

 With a the eyes of a man who mirrored Virgil, Patton nodded at the remark.

 “I am glad to hear they care about you and.. and that you care about them, kiddo. I am sure they will be happy to have you around”, he started and stopped for a moment, his lips rolling together and his tongue parting them as if to spread the taste of his upcoming words on them.

He was contemplating about whether or not he should let them go beyond his tongue.

 After a small pause, the decision was made.

 “You don’t have to be scared of being with us. I am happy to see you and I honestly think Logan couldn’t be happier but to have found a friend like you.”

 Virgil looked at him, wide-eyed.

Shock short-circuited their brain and ruled over their reason for long enough to override the anxious filter that would usually prevent words like that to pass his lips.

 “You- you mean you are notmadwearefriends?”

 The emo stepped closer to Emile and reached out for him, only to be gladly received by his welcoming chest and arms.

 Patton blinked back, pressing his tongue against his gums to swallow his amusement at how absurd the other sounded. It was much better than to succumb to the bitter after-taste of an idea about why the other was so concerned. Instead, he helped himself and his smaller friend to the truce of another peaceful smile.

A smile so outwardly kind and warming, it could only come from a giant that served unexpected kindness instead of crushing dreams and bones.

 “Virgil, kiddo, we are friends too. I would never get upset at you over something so silly. I want my friends to be happy and you and Logan are happy together, even if you don’t always fully agree with one another.”

 The last part smelled like Logan talking about last night but Virgil stopped themself from boarding the panic train.

Patton wanted them to know it was okay. He was not mad.

 They were friends.

  Virgil carefully squeezed their arms around Emile for a bit longer. It was almost as if they tried reassuring someone else in order to make convince themself.

Projection, as Emile would call it.

 ...Actually, Patton would say the same.

Psychology nerds everywhere.

 There were also feelings everywhere. They were like bubbles filled with different-coloured things that were fizzy or sizzling or gas-like and so on. Somehow, all these bubbles around Virgil did not feel pressing anymore. They squeezed them in a bit but it was cozy, in a weird way. Warmth and pink was around them.

It was innocent and .. trustworthy.

 For once, there were no red flags. Wind glided over the pastel coloured banners of a relationship so novel and refreshing to Virgil.

It was still difficult to see and process.

Maybe one day, they would see these banners and identify them as a welcoming sign of hospitality and open arms. New ones but still arms stretched out to happily receive them.

 “thanks...”

 They slowly blinked at Patton who returned the little gesture with another soft rise of his lips’ corners.

Emile gently shielded the smaller person and mumbled something to which Virgil nodded again.

 Patton accepted being the outside with silent patience like a good professional.

 The punk softly rubbed their eyes. Only now, the ginger giant noticed how swollen and reddish they seemed again.

It reminded him of just they day before when they ate together.

He squinted ever so slightly, his eyes focusing on the little detail and eating it up with the information-hungry mind.

 His thoughts wanted answers and every bit of piety seemed to feel heavy on Patton’s large form when.

These large bags of darkness under their eyes seemed to hide more than several hours of missing sleep a night. It was nothing new to Patton to consider but it was then, that he realised how tangible the issue was yet how far away at the same time.

 “Uh-ehem”

 Virgil cleared heir throat and straightened their posture.

 “We are pretty much just barricading my therapist, you know”, they remarked with a slightest hint of a backbone in their words once more..

The silver tongue was back and it was sharp and sturdy as always. The sound immediately prompted Emile to react and lead them over to a corner. A heavy weapon in any battle of wits was back in place and ready to strike. Slowly, it sneaked back into the conversation and even the little smirk was blowing itself onto Virgil’s lips.

Lopsided, subtle and feisty.

 It really was inappropriate to just stand in the middle of the way. What were the three thinking?

 “Uhh.. Anyway, I think I will.. uh.. hitch a hike with you, Em - if that is okay”, they started and shrugged the slight slouch off their shoulders with a deep breath.

At once, the hesitation and doubt seemed banished from the conversation. Virgil looked tall and proud as never before.

 Honestly, the ginger student felt surprised by the sudden change.

He would never cease to be surprised by them.

 “Aw, sure thing, Virgil! You know, you always have a place by my side if you let me drive...”

 Virgil’s eyes widened and Patton felt something tickle him like when your nose tickled before a sneeze. He sensed something.. something good being about to happen.

 “..my van into your heart”, Emile finished.

 The emo groaned loudly, immediately followed by a loud chuckle from them. Their shoulders slouched a bit and they curled into themself a bit.

 “How about you drive yourself back into your work and I am gonna go and get some coffee for bribe”, they offered, “Patton, you coming?”

 The two got together and walked to the closest café in comfortable silence. Every now and then Virgil glanced at their phone, fidgeting around and looking more and more before putting it away for a while to repeat the cycle.

 Cars rolled down the cold streets and every breath evaporated into small clouds of fog. A few stray pigeons flew away when the dyad closed in on them in their curious search for anything edible.

The sun was already setting and bathing the city in a few rays of warm light. Orange and pink painted the scene but only in the rare areas the bigger buildings could not reach to block the light from.

 Virgil’s heavy boots hit the ground with every step while Patton’s own mode of walking mimicked graceful dancing. He was nearly hopping and floating over the dark concrete in the light of dawn. It was a show of beauty to see him.

 The two got a cup holder equipped with several cups of coffees and other hot drinks. They walked back but this time, the silence was swallowed by Virgil’s itching concerns. Their fidgeting got more intense and their fingers started picking at one another so much, the punk felt the plead to ask Patton for assistance on their tongue.

It was difficult, near impossible to erratically scratch and pick at something occupied by the deed to hold the cup holder with multiple scalding drinks.

They gave up on the nervous endeavour of deliberate self-harm when they realised the urge to just do it so intensely they would require support of some sort, they became aware of what exactly they were doing.

 This had to end.

 Despite their fingers tingling to scrape and pick and rip more, they refused to give in. They stopped before the building they had just come out of, Virgil cutting before their friend.

A jumbled bunch of letters flew from their lips in an oddly shushed mumble.

 “P-Patt’n?”

 They shuffled their feet a bit, looking down at them. If Patton had to draw Virgil, he would draw them in this position: shoulders slouching, gaze averted and skin vibrating in some vigilance of a distance threat.

It justified the name and behaviour Virgil usually displayed.

As they stood there, shifted from one leg to the other, boots squeaking as they were moved and squished together every now and then, Patton got the familiar urge to hug them while Virgil felt the intense wanton to throw themself into his arms. After all, the ginger giant was still a walking “hug me” sign, a fluffy one on top of that.

 “Yes, Virgil?”

 Patton’s voice was as light as a snowflake as he spoke with the world’s depot of patience in his little response.

It was a verbal touch to Virgil’s curiously fingers. They had taken to tightly grip onto the grey cup holder with one hand on left and right each. Busy thumbs brushed over the rough material and rubbed against it as if to dig for a treasure that did not exist.

 “I.. d-do.. do you think, um..”, they started but broke off, lost eyes roaming over the dark concrete. The darkness started creeping into the day and establish the night’s dominance for a few more hours than usual.

“Do you think.. L-Logan is.. is mad at me?”

 Glass green eyes grew wide as a pool of darkness shrunk in horror.

 “Oh, honey - Virgil! Logan would never!”

 He kept himself from saying more, swallowed the indignation. It was time to be composed and be a good friend and not get upset over something irrational. This was Virgil’s anxiety speaking, not their trust or rational mind, it was pure hurt and bad past experience poisoning a good relationship.

 “Listen, Logan and I are best friends and he has not once in his life complained about you, not to me, and he tells me everything. He trusts you and you are good for him. He is changing for the better and becoming more open and warm with you around, Virgil, I am not just saying this to make you happy. It really is happening. If he was upset, I am sure he would have asked me for advice or told me something and he did none of that. He asked me how to help you become more comfortable with us without pushing you - really.”

 Patton shifted and started to dig into his pocket to pull out a phone and present the referred to chat logs.

Warm brown eyes tentatively glanced over the messages for signal words, for red flags or similar things to warrant as an evidence for their anxiety to prove its point but there was none.

Black on weird whatever colour they were too blown-away to name at this moment showed how wrong their thinking had been once again. Just a stupid anxiety thing again, not even remotely warranted at all.

 “Th...thanks”

 They pursed their lips up as if to continue but hesitated enough to just go with the flow of not speaking any further, leaving the word awkwardly hang between Patton and him. Bottle green eyes blinked at them, smiling like an encouraging elementary teacher trying to cheer up a child whose drawing had been referred to as “dumb” by some uncultured swines - uh... other children with a bit more hostility.

 “I, um..”, they picked up again, eyes casting downwards bnefore blinking and glancing up at him again, “I needed that. Thanks. It is just, um.. stupid anxiety brain and all.. it just makes me dumb again, or like.. I mean, I uh.. I am not dumb or anything but I just believe the dumb anxiety and that sucks but, like, whatever, right? Can’t deny he is, um, like.. I don’t know, .. not hating me or whatever.”

They clawed at the cup holder.

“Patton, j-”

 A sudden g-note hit the air, punching a conditioned smile of fight and solidarity into Virgil’s face.

 “PA-PattoN, it is-is him! Ah - um”

 Confused jumbles of words pushed through their lips.

No sense was made in the process of this reaction.

The ginger did not understand but he readily perked up in interested, nodding.

 “It is okay, it is okay. You are safe and he is probably just curious whether you are okay. Breathe in, take a really deep breath - “

 Virgil nodded obediently. Their fingers clung to the rough cup holder. The emo’s chest rose a substantial amount before standing still while Patton counted and nodded with nice smiles. They slowly exhaled after a “seven!” and clear nod.

 “Give me the cups and take the call, kiddo. I will go and tell Emile you will be ready after the phone call.”

Hasty eyes met him which he returned with a patient nod not even the ideal monk could have provided. Virgil slowly let go of the rough texture, Patton’s gentle tugs reminding them of letting go. Fingers gradually untangled from the cloud-grey piece of recycled trash and forced a tentative nodding movement onto their head.

 They could do that. They could do that.

“Welcome to the Black Parade” was still playing and the song was nearly over. They had to take it!

This novel thought struck his mind like actual thunder. At once, fingers dug into their pockets and picked up even before their ear was close enough.

 Virgil did not know how Patton knew the song was the personalised ringtone for Logan but they appreciated how exceptionally witty the harmless pastel hulk was. A flick of their wrist goodbye’d Patton while their other hand reached their thirsty ear.

 “Hh-heyh!”

 Awfuckfuck, no he fucked up - no, they did! Now they fucked up hard enough to even fuck up their own pronouns. What a trash-

 “Greetings, Virgil. I hope you are well.”

 Ah. Smooth. Calm.

Logan was the epitome of steadiness.

The composed expression and usual greeting gave Virgil a sense of control. They knew what was about to come: small-talk because Logan thought it helped in social relationships, then some talk about work to elaborate on the things they had in common and eventually a random fact he learned that day or something equally surprising and possibly useless. At least it was something that least them unknown as to what to do with the information but it was not bad at all.

To be honest, they looked forward to it. So much even, their anxiety could not influence the smile of relief taking over their rosy lips.

 “Totally. What about you? Work sucked ass today?”

 “Virgil, work cannot actively do anything, especially not engage in any deed as interactive as acts of adult intimacy -”

 “Wow there, pocket protector. Too early a day to give me so many fancy things to listen to. Anyway, how are you doing?”

 Their lips were curled up completely by now. It was a full smile, if not already a grin preparing for the obligatory hilarious thing about to happen. Like it was some kind of scripted exchange between them.

With Logan being included, maybe it was.

 “I am doing just fine, only wondering about your well-being. Did you get a sufficient quantity and quality of sleep last night?”

 Oh. Right to the point. But speaking of it...

 “I, uh.. I am sorry. I - I was being a butt, um..”

 Virgil touched their clothed elbow of the arm holding the phone. Their fingers scraped and tugged at the fabric. Brushing, pulling, picking. The soothing feeling of a warm jacket covering them and protecting him was barely enough.

 4 - 7 - 8, they reminded themself.

A nod.

Yes, do the breathing thing and focus on Logan.

 “I am surprised to hear you apologise, Virgil. To be frank, I neither expected nor wanted an apology for overstepping any boundaries. If you are uncomfortable with me asking too many questions, you are more than welcome to “tell me off”.”

 A short break.

Insecure breaths in.

Four seconds.

 “Is this the right use of this term? I suppose, so. You are also welcome to correct me, if need be. You should know this but I am willing to remind you of my consistency. However, back to the topic.”

 Shaky holding back of nervous oxygen. Seven seconds.

 “I am not upset with you at all. Rather, I would say I am... concerned. When I started talking about this subject, my primary objective was to work out your issues in order to help you feel more comfortable. I got the .. the feeling you might need more, um, emotional support, if I may say so.”

 Painfully slow release of revolting oxygen for eight seconds.

 The voice on the other side became more uncoordinated, shooting past any aim. Logan cleared his throat to fill the silence as Virgil silently breathed themself into a greater sense of stability and safety.

 “Apologies. I started rambling again and even brought up these uncomfortable topics. All I wanted to convey is that I have a, so to speak, liiiht proposal to make to you. That being said, I might add this proposal does not include any rings or marriage-related preparation rituals. I am just saying this for clarification, not because I suspect you might assume this. I - ... Virgil, are you still there? Am I “talking your ears off”, as Roman says?”

 The small punk heard an odd sound from Logan’s side of the line. They blinked at it, a few wrinkles falling into his skin as he frowned in confusion.

 “Uh, hey, chill, dude”, their dark voice replied, “I, er, I am fine and all and you don’t have to do anything for me, anyway. It is cool, cool. Really cool. I, um, told you I won’t be home tonight? I have this thing going on, was planned before and all.”

 Virgil shrugged into the air for nobody else but uninvolved strangers to see.

 “But, um, don’t worry. I am, like, not mad or anything. I am.. glad? Like, I know I was being a bitch but that does not matter. I.. we are both sorry and that is really cool and.. just, ..just re-really thanks for being so nice about that and respect me and this. I just don’t wanna fuck up things and I know I am being sensitive and all. Uh, yeah..”

 They scratched the back of their head.

 “Any-”

Virgil started at the same time as Logan’s voice pronouncing “So, -” was transmitted to his side of the call.

The punk chuckled silently. A mere moment later, a sigh of relief could be heard. Virgil could have sworn even his hear was sighing with Logan.

 “You go first, Log.”

 If anyone had been around to see Logan at the bus stop, they would have witnessed a certain sparkling sensation behind his serious glasses as he made out the nickname Virgil added.

 “Thank you, Virgil, I appreciate that - appreciate you.”

 The words felt so much heavier than they should have been. They were voluminous gem stones on their chest. Prominent and eye-catching whilst sparkling and somewhat enticing with richness and depth of colour.

On the inside, Virgil knew they would wear Logan’s feelings on their chest, face or simply in their heart if the other would just ask them to.

 “Do you want to watch the stars with me? Tonight, I mean - say two hours, perhaps. It would just be you and me. I will take the car and get you if need be. Our university’s Astrology Club has a big telescope and great WiFi. I thought you might be interested but if you are pre-occupied, I understand.”

 Virgil absorbed the information, inhaling the connection and heartfelt consideration Logan has put into the consideration.

 “I-.. Logan, do- do you mean this as, uh.. as a date? Cuz, like, I don’t know if you do but it is cool if you do and I am not pissed or something, just want to know.”

 Another odd sound could be heard from the other side but Virgil was too caught up in anticipation to question the nature of the sound or the vibration in Logan’s breath suddenly hitting the microphone.

 “If this does not disrupt whatever your nature of relationship you enjoy with Declyn, then I would love to call it a date. With your consent only, of course.”

 Virgil’s heart did a leap. They drew in a hasty potion of oxygen as if to drink it up like the tasty juice of love.

 “I would love to. Text me the details, I will see about the car thing.”

 They hung up and ran up to Emile, taking two steps at a time. Now they had a certain skip to their steps but they also had a certain beat in their heart when they hitched a hike to their sibling in enthusiastic anticipation.

 Maybe this day could be great after all.

[crystallized-iron]

Fic Recs

I really don’t read as much as I should, but there have been some really great ones. MCU and X-Men recs under the read more.

I think... if I counted right, this is 25 recs here. I may have gotten carried away a little bit. Enjoy.

--- --- ---

Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked by Kellyscams Rating: Explicit

Steve's just moved back to Brooklyn after spending ten years in California trying to make a life for himself as an artist right after high school. Having escaped to the other side of the country following the sudden death of his mother, Steve feels guilty about abruptly leaving all his friends for so long, unfulfilled, scared and nervous about started college at his age, and unbelievably lonely. So when he meets Bucky Barnes, a young sex-worker, at a bar the night before his first day of classes, temptations might be too high to resist.

One night paying for sex with the most sinfully gorgeous guy is nothing to brag to the papers about, huh?

S'not like he'll ever see him again anyway...

...Right?

And we pulled each other like gravity by hllfire Rating: Explicit

Erik accompanies Charles, Crown Prince of the Xavier Empire, to his first diplomatic meeting on the planet Themis, where he finds out something about the Prince and they end up talking about the past and how their paths had crossed before.

Fill for the Day 1 of Cherik Week: Space AU.

Bitter Sweet by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Teen

Bucky comes home from the war, finds out he has a daughter he never knew existed and now he must cope with life after the war while taking care of her.

Alternate timeline where Bucky's rescued after falling from the train, but Steve was never told and goes into the ice anyway.

Broken by NotEvenCloseToStraight Rating: Explicit

It took months of therapy for Bucky to break his Winter Soldier conditioning, and Steve was there for him, encouraging him to talk about his past, his fears, his time as the Soldier. And Bucky talked about everything-- except why the barest mention of an Alpha makes him panic. When Steve brings Bucky home, Alpha!Tony is ready to welcome Bucky with open arms and wings, but Bucky can't look at him, can't be in the same room without his wings flaring out to keep the Alpha away, a broken Omega panicking in the presence of a strong Alpha. But Tony is a good Alpha, and the team pulls together to help Bucky, showing him what it means to be loved, to be healthy and whole, and one day when Tony holds his hand out, Bucky trusts him enough to take it. And Bucky realizes that with a family behind him, with the safety hes found in the Omegas, the companionship from the Betas, and the unconditional love from the Alpha--HIS alpha, he isn’t broken at all. But with a team like the Avengers, tragedy is never far off, and this one rocks the family to their core. How can they fix the broken pieces of their lives when their Alpha is gone?

Close to you, I’m home by OneWithoutAName Rating: Teen

As Erik is searching the manor, he finds something strange in the attic. He knows that he needs to go to Charles, if he wants some answers. After all, why would there be a nest in a small dusty attic room, when there were countless rooms with ridiculously soft beds all around the manor?

Goodbye Brothers by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Teen

A look at Dum-e during the events of Iron Man 3 and beyond.

It’s Not What You Think... by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Teen

Bucky walks in on Tony dirty talking in the lab but it's not what he thinks.

Letters to Bucky by NotEvenCloseToStraight Rating: Explicit

Stuck in rehab after a near-fatal accident, Tony reaches out via letters to a soldier overseas, and Bucky is more than happy to write back, drawn to Tony for a reason he can't quite name. One or two letters turn into a years worth, then come the phone calls, with Tony quickly realizing that Bucky's voice, with that rolling Brooklyn accent might be his new favorite sound. When Bucky shows up unannounced at Tony's door, one thing leads to another and maybe a confession or two is made. But Bucky's tour overseas isn't over yet, not even close, and they have months more of distance between them. Then Bucky disappears, missing in action, and Tony doesn't know if he will ever get his soldier back. And if Bucky DOES make it home, will he be the same boy from Brooklyn who sent Tony love poems, or has his time away and his injuries changed him for good?

BONUS CHRISTMAS CHAPTER ADDED 12/10/18

Let your light shine by OneWithoutAName Rating: Teen

Inspired by Moomin TV series from 1990 and the episodes “The invisible friend” and “The invisible Child”. It’s the start of the summer break and Erik, a 13 year old boy living in a small house with his mother in the outskirts a small(ish) English town, is stuck in home because of the rain. The evening seems to get interesting though, when a strange man arrives with an invisible telepath boy and asks them to help him become visible again.

Loving a Vampire by Feelingsinwinter Rating: Mature

In the 19th century, Tony is a greatly appreciated and skilled inspector. His dire need to find the murderers and killers to every case he is given is well known among the people and while it doesn’t always help him to get the answers he needs, at least it makes it easier to convince people to talk to him. When Mary Ann Nichols is found dead, Tony Stark doesn’t know the investigation will put his life in harm’s way, put his marriage with one James Buchanan Barnes on shaky ground and shove him in a situation he wasn’t ready to face.

When a murderer does their best to earn the name of a monster, Tony is ready to do anything to stop them.

My beacon in a storm that is the world by OneWithoutAName Rating: Teen

Erik hated this planet. And he had seen a few along the years as a pilot of the most troublesome research team that had ever existed.

Or, they find a new alien species and Erik catches a bad case of feelings ragarding his relationship with Charles.

Of Broken Dreams and Mended Hearts by Kellyscams Rating: Explicit

When the House of Barnes is left in massive debt after the death of George Barnes, their oldest son and heir, Bucky, is forced to sacrifice his own hopes and dreams by entering an arranged married to Steve Rogers. Steve seems kind enough, has a prominent job in the government, and was even voted Society's Best Catch. But the House Rogers is significantly higher in status than Bucky's family, which means Bucky is marrying up in Society, and marrying up doesn't only come with rewards, it also comes with certain...expectations and losses--some of which Bucky might be willing to do anything to avoid. And those opportunities might come his way.

Unless, of course, he actually starts falling in love with his new husband...

Pirates Heart by NotEvenCloseToStraight Rating: Explicit

The 1700s, the Golden Age of Piracy, and Captain Steve Rogers has all he wants: a ship, a loyal crew, Bucky at his side, and the horizon offering a new adventure everyday. But an impulsive kiss gone wrong leads to a marriage between Steve and Tony Stark, and now Steve doesn't know what to do about ANYTHING. Steve loves Bucky, but something about Tony draws him in. Tony is too innocent for this life, but he picks up a sword anyway. Bucky is Steve's, but when he offers his hand to Tony and now the three of them are something new. When the truth about Steve's mission to ruin the Stark name comes out, Tony runs away, leaving Steve and Bucky behind in search of answers to the secrets hidden from him his whole life-- about his company, about Uncle Obie, about his parents death.

Steve and Bucky cant abandon their mission against Stane and Tony cant deal with the answers he finds in New York. Is this the end? Is Tony gone forever? Or will he leave his old life and return to the sea and the Pirates that hold his heart?

**BONUS CHAPTER ADDED 2/4/19!!** **BONUS CHAPTER ADDED 5/15/20!!**

Random Encounter by g33kyclassic Rating: Explicit

Charles is just a typical London commuter...until he sees the most gorgeous man on earth standing a few feet away from him.

Regret is in the past by OneWithoutAName Rating: Teen

Six years after first class, the cold war escalates and the missiles are fired, destroying the world as it was known. Those who managed to live, fight for survival against each other and against the living dead. One would think that the mutants have advantage, but Shaw was wrong in his assumption that the radiation would make them stronger. On the contrary, it made them weaker, their powers only half of what they used to be. In this world of waste land, Erik and what’s left of the brotherhood are trying to survive. It’s five years later, they are cornered by the zombies while they were trying to gather supplies in abandoned town. The situation seems hopeless, until a silver haired boy appears out of nowhere and tells them to be ready to run.

Small Indiscretions (Can Save the World) by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Teen

Captain Steve Rogers has defeated the Red Skull but lost his own life in the process, leaving behind a grieving Peggy and guilt-ridden Howard Stark. After looking to Howard for comfort following her great loss, Peggy finds herself facing the scariest mission she’s ever encountered: motherhood.

While this news is devastatingly unwanted for Peggy, Howard sees this as a golden opportunity to give his bride Maria the child she never thought she could have. With a little convincing and promises that she won’t have to be involved with the child’s life if she doesn’t want to be, Peggy agrees to keep and have the baby for the Starks, own personal comfort be damned. She wasn't planning on it being so hard, or finding someone she didn't want to lie to along the way. AKA what if Peggy Carter was more than just Tony Stark’s badass aunt?

The Consequence of Hiding by g33kyclassic Rating: Explicit

Charles is completing his PhD at Oxford when he finds himself in dire need of a new job to support himself and Raven. Erik is a grumpy Mutant Student Counsellor who has yet to fill his student assistant position. Enter Prof. MacTaggert and her matchmaking ways to bring her student and her friend together (in platonic, professional compatibility, of course). Will things stay platonic for Charles and Erik? Only time will tell.

The Funeral by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Teen

Tony attends the viewing and funeral of his parents. The other members of the company's board are not amused by his actions there.

The Risks by OneWithoutAName Rating: Teen

Inspired by post on Tumblr It takes Erik by surprise how Mystique doesn't seem to remember just how much Charles has done and risked for them, for their kind. But it seems that Erik wasn't quite aware of the risks either.

The Robot Who Could Feel Pain by slightly_salty_ace Rating: Teen

In which Tony leaves Afghanistan more machine than human. Or rather, Iron Man leaves Afghanistan. To the world, Tony Stark is dead.

Or...

Steve is convinced that Iron Man is just a robot with sass because the future is a strange place and he's stopped questioning things.

But when someone from Tony Stark's past returns, putting Iron Man in danger, Steve is forced to start asking questions. Specifically questions about his feelings towards a certain red and gold robot.

The Shared Dream by TurtleTotem Rating: Teen

Charles's cryo-pod malfunctions and wakes him up a century before everyone else. Will he spend the rest of his life alone on a ship full of sleepers? (A Passengers AU.)

The Soldier by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Explicit - Read Warning and Tags!

There's something wrong with Bucky. Something very wrong and it may have dire consequences for his friends and loved ones.

Time Falls Away by NotEvenCloseToStraight Rating: Mature

The Battle of New York: Tony flies himself and the nuke through the wormhole and when his suit shuts down and he starts to fall, he knows he's going to die. But then he wakes up in an alley in Brooklyn, two strangers staring down at him in confusion and Tony is sure he is dreaming when he shakes hands first with pre-serum Steve Rogers, and then Bucky Barnes. Trapped in 1942, Tony befriends Steve, and falls in love with Bucky but America is at war, and Bucky and Steve ship out to join the cause. Tony knows all the stories about the Howling Commandos and knows what’s coming for the soldiers, and has to live through history as first Bucky falls, and then Steve disappears. Tony is left alone in the 40's, crying himself to sleep in the house he had shared with his best friend and his lover. But then he wakes up on the pavement in New York, the Hulk roaring in his face, Steve staring down at him, and he has to wonder if it was all a hallucination. When Tony fell through the sky, did he fall through time as well? Why does Steve act so cold towards him? Were he and Bucky really that happy together?

Did it all really happen, or is Tony in love with a life he can only have in his dreams?

We want the same thing by hllfire Rating: Mature

Charles is locked up underground, where his telepathy won't be a problem, deemed too dangerous now to be kept free. Erik pays a visit.

Fill for the Day 2 of Cherik Week: Dark!Charles.

Your Love Alone Is Not Enough by LadyDarkPhoenix Rating: Explicit - Read Warning and Tags!

In an alternative post Civil War, Clint and Bucky fell in love and tried to make a life together. But then Thanos happened and Clint embraced the darkness within himself trying to cope with all his loss.

This is how after Bucky returned, Clint still can't cope with what happened and who he's become. How even though he seems to have it all, his own mind is his now his greatest enemy. Bucky tries to help but how do you help someone that doesn't believe he should be saved?

[nyxtoxicate]

hello yearning: a'plyae mae.

Summary:

Jung Taekwoon, a fourth tier soccer player in the K3 division of Korea's football leagues, juggles the struggle of raising his nephew as well as pushing his career forward when he unconsciously commits an act which bestows a faerie of good fortune upon him. A problem; the faerie is very mischievous. Another problem; the faerie is also very, very attractive.

Rating- Mature.

artwork by @changbaegi​. used with permission.

Chapter 3: Virtuoso (or read on ao3)

There's a silvery-green sheen of light that seems to envelop the man lounging on Taekwoon’s furniture, and he blinks once -twice- to reassure himself that it was not a figment of his imagination. If he squints hard, really hard, it almost seems as though there is a glittering substance present within the sheen, falling like an iridescent curtain over the strange man’s head and down to the bare feet, crossed at the ankle, settled on the white tile floor. His white tile floor. The white tile floor that was the base of HIS kitchen where he ATE.

Taekwoon was still frozen in place, stuck in time as the other man stretches his arms over his head, apparently completely content to lounge in this position all night if need be, and Taekwoon bristled at that. Still, he couldn’t quite ignore the shiver that was running up his spine at the sight of the man, because -while he was certain they had never met before- there was an air of familiarity about him

(Oh, so you’re who I’ve been waiting for?)

He's just going to ignore that strange, otherworldly voice that popped into his head, thank you very much. Instead, what Taekwoon is going to do is he's going to grab the iron skillet on top of his stove and he's going to get some answers. As soon as he can move.

“Oh, right, Oopsy Daisies, you're stuck there until I explain the deal!” Comes the (throaty, rhythmic) insufferable voice of the man in the chair. “Frozen in time until you accept your fate,” he continues to drawl and the soft screeching of the chair’s protest as it is slowly pushed back, bottoms of its legs scraping against the floor, echoes through the tiny room. When the man stands, Taekwoon is disgruntled to find that the pair are nearly identical in height, meaning his above average stature wouldn't be aiding him this time around. That was just fine, though, because he was broader than this stranger from years spent training his body to reach the edge of its endurance and then some. But, he still wasn't able to move. He was trying to will his frame forward, and when that proved futile, his attempts became desperate enough that all Taekwoon wanted to be able to do was twitch his fingers.

All efforts were in vain, as it were. This man seemed to be telling Taekwoon the truth, and the only logical explanation for the phenomenon was that Taekwoon had been drugged. It most likely occurred when he had been searching the home earlier, his mind too preoccupied to notice any odd remnants of ill-meaning dust or liquid splashed along his walls. Or maybe it was the tap water in the sink he had rinsed his face in. That had to be it. Water, the original source for human vitality and the very basis of life as he knew it would be the thing that finally did Taekwoon in. Just the thought was enough to send him seething- if he had the ability to seethe, that was. Which he did not. Because it was as if someone had set a literal pause on him, feet as lead weighing him down to the floor but his body in a state of utter weightlessness. He might say this is what floating felt like if he was paying more attention to the unnatural sensation overtaking him and not on the long piece of yellowing parchment the other man seemed to have conjured from thin air which was now slowing unfurling to reveal bold, black lettering, cursive and slanting and looking very incredibly ancient. Like a prop from a bad history movie. Taekwoon felt like he was in a bad history movie.

The man clears his throat and Taekwoon’s eyes, surprisingly not dry, set to attention once again.

“Yadda, yadda, yadda, introduction to why I’m here, but you should know that already, blah blah blah, HERE WE GO.” A slender finger with nails unkempt and cracking at the edges, though not dirtied, rests pointedly on a section of text that Taekwoon can hardly see and definitely cannot decipher. “When the giall -that’s you- has committed an act of utter sanctity while not under dis-repose influence, shall be granted, for indefinite longevity, an Asparas of one of the following sects to be decided by the council of sects immediately following the act and with due haste so long as no unearthly entity deem is inefficient; i) Sylia, for acts of the kindred spirit ii) Iallea, for acts of the wandering flesh iii) Diamae, for acts in relation to salvation iv) Rutia, for acts that the Oke’trall will v) Nullea, for acts inconceivable by no other means than Thaumaturgy or Mysticism vi) Atua, to grant safe passage into wosh regions.”

Taekwoon is at a complete loss, the words tumbling from the man’s mouth being a language he couldn’t interpret. He was catching some Korean words jumbled in with a lot of jargon and then something that sounded almost Celtic. He would very much like for this man to leave.

The man only whistles through his teeth, smiling brightly up at Taekwoon. His eyes crinkle at the edges and Taekwoon tries not to think about how nice it looks because this was not the right time to be ogling.

“You really did something pretty nice to have me assigned to you!” The stranger sing-songs, seeming extremely pleased with himself. “I’m from the Diamae sect, but your case could have been between the Diamae or the Sylia sects which is why it took a lot longer for me to finally get to you. They said something about a kid and a cliff, but that’s really all I heard before I got too curious and decided to just come and see you even if the entire meeting hadn’t exactly adjourned, but you wouldn’t even give the courtesy of greeting me! You just locked that cute little kid up in that room and then came out with a bat! That wasn’t a very nice thing to do at all, you know. Especially since I’m basically going to be living with you from now on and all that.”

Was this some kind of a fever dream? It had to be. Any moment, Taekwoon would be waking up after being shaken to consciousness abruptly by his nephew who would be chastising Taekwoon for not waking up early enough to take him to school on time and Taekwoon would eventually forget all about this crazy situation playing out as he blissfully went out the rest of his life in comfortable repetition. He might be able to recall the dream when he woke up, but it would soon fade away until the remnants were nothing but forgotten glimpses into a world belonging to his imagination. If Taekwoon could move, he would pinch himself.

He still couldn’t move though, and that was really starting to get to him.

“Aye, we might not have gotten off on the right note, but I’m sure we’ll be able to get along just fine once this is all cleared up. Anyway, you have to accept the acquirement of Asparas (1) amae before we can get the rest of the details sorted out. It’s also kind of mandatory for you because if you don’t accept then it’s going to make a lot of really powerful people preeeeettyyy pissed,” rambled the man in his rapid-fire manner of speech. Taekwoon could hardly keep up, still reeling, but it seemed that it was unnecessary for him to be aware of the goings on because some otherworldly force was tipping his head forward and then back. A nod. He had just accepted whatever the Hell was being given to him.

The man claps his hands together, overjoyed, before snapping his fingers and the action unbinds Taekwoon from whatever chains were keeping him in place. He has to test out his newfound freedom by first curling his wrists and clenching his fists to ensure that his blood was in proper circulation throughout his body. It was, and Taekwoon geared himself to give out a punch that would have the other man sprawled on the floor in seconds, but then-

"A'plyae mae. A'llemenia mae Kalan . But you can call me Jaehwan while we’re here. It’ll make me fit in better,” there was a hand being extended in Taekwoon’s direction, one with long and slender fingers adorned by patterned wooden rings and interwoven with what he could only assume to be moss and petals. The look that he was being given was one of (adoration?) fondness by the man- Jaehwan- and Taekwoon thought that maybe this wouldn’t be the best time considering that if he didn’t try to figure out what had just happened, he might me “pissing off a lot of really powerful people” and that didn’t sound good at all if they were anything like the guy that kept magically appearing in his home. Taekwoon takes the man’s hand and tentatively shakes it.

Now that he’s stepped closer, the football player can see that there are intricate lines running up the stranger’s flesh, dancing, even as he stood still, over the skin like veins but a milky hue in colour. So very strange. Taekwoon can also see the violet bags under brown eyes (or were they green?) indicating that this man was tired even through the cheerful facade that was being put on. If Taekwoon didn’t know better, he might say that the cheeriness was an act. But, what really struck him was the blond locks set atop the man’s head. They were so yellow in shade that Taekwoon was reminded of sunflowers, and at first he thought it might be dyed that way were it not for the consistent colour. He had had his own hair dyed once, and he knew that there were some things that artificial colour could not achieve.

“Why are you here?” He manages to ask without stuttering, his eyes now drawn to the slightly sunken cheeks that sit atop a prominent jawline.

Jaehwan’s smile falters for a moment before he releases Taekwoon from the embrace and squares his shoulders before quickly dropping into a bow at the waist. He’s back up so fast that Taekwoon thought he would have missed the action if he had blinked and surely Jaehwan’s head would be swimming from the disturbance to his equilibrium? But, there seems to be no such inhibition, and Jaehwan’s voice sounds without any hesitation.

“I’m your personal angel! Well, not angel. I’m an asparas, but they basically sound the same, so does it really matter?” Taekwoon thought that, yes, it did really matter. “And the reason I’m here is because you committed an act that was out of selflessness for that boy down at the… Where was it? Some marine place? I think that’s what it was. I wasn’t really paying attention, I just went where they sent me to go, and that was here!” Damn, this guy looked really proud of himself.

“But…” Taekwoon just thought he had done what any other normal person with a moral compass would have done. Besides, it had been an accident; it wasn’t like he willingly went out of his way to save the kid, he was just the one who happened to be standing there when it happened. It just seemed way to circumstantial for any of this to be substantial.

It was like Jaehwan could read his mind, because the asparas was clasping his hands behind his back and looking humbled, and his voice was lowering to a much quieter tone as he spoke.

“Really, I’m only supposed to be bestowing good fortune upon you right now because what you did wasn’t, what do you call it? Totally heroic? But, it was still a really good thing to do, and everyone at the council has to think about that before they send one of us over here to be around the humans and stuff.”

“That doesn’t make much sense.”

“Just think about it like you have your very own personal lucky charm now.”

Taekwoon didn’t really believe in luck. It was hard work and perseverance that had gotten him to where he was, so what did he need this for? Slowly, he makes a grab for one of the chairs at the table, slinking into the cushion-covered wooden seat and resting his chin in his hands as he tried to mull over the new information. He could be crazy. This could be a fever- dream from some bad food he had eaten earlier in the day, because if you asked him, that tteokbeokki from the street vendor in town earlier had tasted a bit off to him. He could also be trying to fill the void of loneliness that was in his heart whenever Minyul wasn’t around, but even that couldn’t really explain what was going on because he should only be experiencing this phenomena when his nephew wasn’t around, and he had heard Jaehwan’s voice in the past when he thought there was an intruder.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he can hear said voice saying, and a pair of bare feet appear in Taekwoon’s peripheral vision underneath the shadow of his fingers. When he looks up, he can see an impish grin. “There’s no way that this could be real, right? I come in here claiming to be some sort of FaeFolk and making you sign some agreement that says I’m going to be here a while? It does sound pretty freaky, but I promise, you’ll barely know I’m here! I can even babysit! Kids love me. Check this out!”

And before Taekwoon can protest, Jaehwan is lifting his hands. In one of his hands, his fingers furl toward his palm but the other hand acts as a stabilizer underneath it in a completely flat position. Jaehwan takes a long breath, focusing intently on one spot just beyond the point of Taekwoon’s shoulder, and then his eyes glaze over as if he is staring into nothingness. Taekwoon waits for something to happen. He waits a minute. And then two. But, then he realizes that there is no motion to Jaehwan’s shoulders that would indicate an intake of breath. The football player wonders if Jaehwan is frozen just like he was and if this would be a good time to try and maneuver the body out of the home while he could, but then he sees it.

The foggy mist begins to collect around the man’s mouth, and Taekwoon watches in horror, sinking into the back of the seat, as the mist clouds just before Jaehwan’s head, morphing in shape like something alive and twisting in the air as though writhing in agony. The same shimmering sheen is present through the mist and it glitters in the air until something… Twinkles? There is something most definitely twinkling in the center of the vapor and disturbing the area around it as it grows in size and brightness. Taekwoon can barely see Jaehwan’s face through the smoggy substance because it is darkening to a deep purple even as the orb becomes brighter and brighter.

Taekwoon finally has to shield is eyes, but when the light dims and he can turn to see what has become of the bizarre scene, the Fae is half- enclosing a sparkling purple tourmaline in his hand and grinning an illustrious grin. The space around him should be empty, but lilac flecks glint in coruscation in the air, teasing and enveloping the asparas in a nebula of placidity.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Taekwoon hadn’t realized his jaw dropped.

⋯ ◯ ⋯⋯

Excerpt From The Third Work of Han Gyeon (1625)

To be understood as a translation into modern speak of the 20th century. Translation as approved by professors Choi Yongmin and Kim Soyee of Korea University’s Linguistics Department and the International Circle of Korean Linguistics.

Good Fortune bestow the group of Seven, for seven be one of the most magykal of the numbers; no doubt to be reasoned by those we were seeking that these seven were only of the most capable of men to make this journey. For, even though the legs we were to trudge on ached with a fury and e’en if our feet be waterlogged and mud- soaked, we seven did not falter in our task of bestowing the water upon the grounds of the land. Our entry to the place of wonder be granted only from our prowess, and only when granted access through the iridescent gloss that separates the holier world from that of Mankind did we allow for rest. I fear that the first few moments we spent were to set at ease our tired bodies and souls and to mourn for the loss of the good fellows we did leave behind, but we would soon to be reunited; for their Sakes rather than ours. Only by following the streams, the gurgle of the brooks and distant roar of rushing water, were we to come upon this place, nestled in the hills and secret from most but those who know the path to trudge. Here, the spectrum is like nothing that can be sought in the realm of Man, in a place where even the air dances with a mingling of vibrant hue and our guide partakes of the scenery with a satisfaction us seven have come to know, for surely this place will leave us with such longing once our presence had become unwanted. Soon as we are relinquished from this place, it would haunt our hearts until our very last breaths, but we were not to know that until the years of despairing were set upon. In that instant, the brief period of time that passed between myself gathering my strength before taking in the fictitious around me, we would be surrounded. Not a menacing demeanor, nor one of manic, ominous threat, but one that had three of our group whispering in hushed murmurs to themselves. Their eyes would flicker about, though in fascination or fright it cannot be known; all that is for certain is that we were under a watchful gaze while amongst the whimsicality of the unknown, and so would the piercing gazes remain on our backs until we set off once again in search of the meeting place. “Be sure to bring another,” our guide suggested from his place to the stream nearest to us, because water seemed to flow in wavering and winding currents up the hills, cupping his hands in demonstration to us as he fills his palms of the clear liquids of the realm. We were all to follow suit, not to forget ourselves in bewilderment and there were only a few who needed to scramble. The way that we were to go was one flanked on both sides by trees whose branches were heavy with ripening fruit or flowering blossoms even while the floor of this forest, for surely this was still woodland although the thicket was that of pinks and oranges whose bark was littered with fluttering insects. The overhang of twigs offered cool shade against the beating sun, cooling the grass and moss of the woods. There were flowing tides here as well, following the path and intersecting at times, but never crossing over the areas of shade we were subject to. It was something akin to an arch, harmonious. A being of less caliber may seek to lay a hand upon the efflorescence as if in a lovers’ caress, but we were of good and clever men and we followed our guide staunchly so as to ne’er lose sight of the trail we were to take. Even if we were welcomed here now, the men were of unspoken agreement that wandering was only in a Fool’s agenda. Every so often, a shadow would cross the peripheral of my vision, flitting from sapling to timber but never back, always following. I would never turn my head to meet the kindred spirit; it would have been unwise. Instead, when the sun must have reached high noon, our guide instructs us to sit. The wind began to still around us, no longer buffering against the cloth of our cloaks nor whispering through the trees in its song, and so we sat side- by- side on the trail, the length of us spanning just the necessary amount. We would wait until They were to greet us. We would offer our gift to them, one of tenacity and fearlessness and diligence, and then the meeting would commence. Out of the corner of my eye, I remember the shadow sitting down on par with us as well. Faintly, falco naumanni calls.

⋯ ◯ ⋯⋯

“How did you do that?” The football player blurts out once he’s found his voice, the pounding of his heart thundering in his ears. There was no possible way that no trickery was involved. Jaehwan was an illusionist, most likely, and had probably set up lights around the apartment to make the elaborate scheme seem like magic. This was the only possible explanation that Taekwoon could think of, because he was a very logical man and nothing that was happening was happening with any practicality. That, or he was losing his mind.

“See? That’s why kids like me! Even Minyul liked it, and I only did some small stuff.” Without a care, Jaehwan tosses the gem behind him and it clatters against the floor before resting still with a final deep thud where it would stay nestled in the carpet of a rug. Taekwoon followed the action with his eyes, but could hardly process it.

Jaehwan was suddenly very close, and Taekwoon visibly startled in his chair. He didn’t like the way that this man could move like that, soundlessly and so quickly that it was unnerving. Jaehwan’s eyes were quite large as they stared reproachfully into Taekwoon’s own, his arms descending so that the Fae’s hands could grip at the arms of the chair on either side of Taekwoon’s lax body. He was leaning in so close that Taekwoon thought he could scent the faint smell of salty sea water rolling off of him, and that did nothing more than pique his curiosity and send his stomach into a flurry of action. All at once, he felt exhausted and sick, and Taekwoon’s eyes fluttered closed at the wave of nausea that was slowly overtaking him. This didn’t seem to disturb Jaehwan, nor did the faint groan of displeasure that sounded from the Korean man sitting in the chair. Instead, he leaned closer, the aroma growing in strength until Taekwoon was certain that he was standing seaside. If he tried to focus on the darkness behind his eyes and escape into that solitude, images of flotsam and jetsam infested his thoughts until he was certain that he was floating among the waves of the ocean. His palms felt sticky and clammy at his sides before they clutched at the cushion beneath him in an attempt to return to reality, but he could have been a man drowning for all that Taekwoon could do to save himself.

As quickly as the phenomenon started, it ceased. Taekwoon drew in a long gulp of air to steady himself and grasp back into the world that should be around him. He was in his kitchen. He was sitting down. And Jaehwan was still much too close.

“I don’t just do party tricks,” the asparas hums in a condescending tone while something dangerous lurks in the flash of his eyes. It dawns on Taekwoon immediately that Jaehwan had been the cause of the overpowering experience, and that revelation was enough to have him scared. Taekwoon was frightened that this monstrosity of a creature was in his home, and he was frightened that this being was now wont to be around him. The goosebumps erupting on the flesh of his legs, arms and stomach were a clear indication of his emotion. Still, the level stare kept Taekwoon locked in place until the most that he could do was breathe and keep eye contact and pray to whatever deity had cursed him that they would relinquish the contract he was a part of and give him back the previous life that now felt so far away. ( It was funny how time worked like that. Just a few hours earlier, Taekwoon was hoping for some company, and here it was, but not in the way that he expected it. )

Jaehwan pulls away after another moment, the silence broken by a chuckle and then it’s as though a switch has been flicked because the asparas is turning on his heel with arms extended toward the ceiling of the apartment in a show of sheer joy. After a short stretch, Jaehwan lifts himself up onto the counter of the kitchen under which a set of cupboard sit, swinging his bare feet out toward Taekwoon at the table. Taekwoon wasn’t a religious man, but if the Devil were real, surely He was in his home in that instant.

“I don’t usually take up this much space, so this is kind of weird to me. Plus, this human body just feels so… Long? No, that’s not the word. Lanky. It feels lanky,” Jaehwan almost pouts, his bottom lip curling out just slightly in a way that should be endearing but that Taekwoon could only think of as being heinous. “And the beds here are so weird! How can you sleep on something like that? The pillows here aren’t even stuffed with feathers like they should be. That’s what they told us, you know. That the human world was full of all these weird things and that you guys use animals for clothes and stuff.”

Jaehwan must really like the sound of his own voice is the conclusion that Taekwoon is drawing, and the football player begins to ascend from his place of refuge to tentatively move back a hairsbreadth towards the doorway leading out into the hallway.

“You could stay somewhere else?” He suggests in a small voice and then immediately internally chastises himself. Taekwoon’s may have a naturally quiet way of speech, but it wasn’t going to be of use now when he should be authoritative enough to buy time to think of a means to escape. It was that, or somehow undo the deal he was coerced into, because he was going to be taking anything that Jaehwan told him previously into careful consideration.

“Oh, no, no. I… I can’t really. Once one of us FaeFolk are tied to a human, we’re basically bonded. It means I should probably masquerade as your bodyguard or something. Oooh! That would be cool! You could act like you made a mafia boss really angry and that you had to hire protection just like in those movies!” Jaehwan suggests, elated at the idea and Taekwoon didn’t pause to wonder how the asparas even knew what the mafia was if he didn’t even know that pillows were rarely stuffed with feathers anymore. Another thought does strike him, though.

“You said… That they told you what here was like,” he starts, not wanting to picture who ‘they’ were, “does that mean you haven’t been here before?”

“Nope!” Jaehwan shakes his head, crossing his arms in an x over his chest. “Not even once until I got assigned to you. It’s really weird here. You humans don’t even have the nocturna lumos, and that was my favourite part of back home. I mean, you can still see the stars and stuff - I sort of spent the last few nights on a few roofs here- but it really isn’t all that spectacular.”

“Then why send you here in the first place if your home is so much better?” Taekwoon snaps with some regret. He was finding it a struggle just to stand now when his body was weighing itself down so heavily from tiredness.

“Because, it’s our duty to serve the good.” The vague explanation sounds like one that would be given to a child, as if Taekwoon couldn’t understand the full situation so there was no point in telling him. That was irritating, and Taekwoon grinds his teeth together. Briefly, his gaze locks on the bright green numbers of the timer on the microwave set against the wall beside Jaehwan’s head and is unhappy to note that it’s nearing midnight.

“Where do you plan on staying tonight, then?” He resigns himself to asking the man lounging on his counter-top. Jaehwan’s head cocks to the side, lips pursing before he shrugs his shoulders and hops down from his position to land on his feet with all of the grace of an Olympic diver.

“I don’t really wanna sleep tonight. Have you got any movies?”

Taekwoon’s eye twitches but he nods.

“Oh, good, ‘cause I don’t really like it when it gets really dark, so I can just stay in that room with the Big Screen and watch some of those until you wake up. You have those funny ones, right?”

“Comedies?” The only comedies Taekwoon owned were animated because of his nephew and even he could barely get through one of them without feeling as though his brain were leaking through his ears from the sheer stupidity of the absurd storylines. ( He had no desire to find out how a talking, dancing pickle was making his way through life in a cucumber world was all he was getting at. )

Jaehwan only smiles widely at that, and the sight is enough to make Taekwoon’s jaw ache. How could a person’s mouth stretch so obscenely? And in such a square shape? But Taekwoon doesn’t have any more time to mull it over because Jaehwan is moving in his lightning fast way again and tugging on the long sleeve of the shirt the football player is wearing to pull him into the living room that housed the television Jaehwan fondly called the Big Screen. There was no way that Taekwoon was going to be getting away from him, it seemed.

“You’re not going to stay and watch one with me?” Comes the inquiry from the man who had set himself up on Taekwoon’s couch, tucked inside a blanket that Taekwoon was uncertain of where he had procured it from, while Minyul’s uncle abandoned all hope and began to set up the proper configuration for DVDs on the television.

He shakes his head, bending down to insert a disk into the drive before pressing play on the controller in his hand and gearing himself for the loud burst of song that would soon bellow from the speakers. He sets a volume he hopes that his neighbours won’t mind and leaves the remote on the small wooden table in the center of the room. If Jaehwan wanted to use it, he could figure it out himself, Taekwoon reasoned.

“When this one stops just click on the ‘Eject’ button and the disk will come out, then you can put in a different one,” Taekwoon explains to the dejected man on his couch. He doesn’t spare Jaehwan another glance until his legs guide him through the archway that will lead him to the hall. That’s when he hears the faint call.

“What?” He turns in exasperation, rubbing at one of his eyes to attempt to relieve himself of a little bit of the drowsiness screaming at him to sleep.

“Allo’nae. Goodnight,” Jaehwan’s voice sounds in muffled manner from the cocoon of blankets, and Taekwoon can see in the dim light from the television that the Fae had angled himself towards the door to watch as Taekwoon left.

“Oh. Goodnight,” he replies, and that seems to satisfy Jaehwan because his gaze returns to the screen and Taekwoon hears no more from him for the rest of the night.

It’s only when Taekwoon is tucked into his own bed with the blankets pulled over his head and the low din of the television can be heard even through the thick padding of his door that he thinks the familiarity in Jaehwan’s face could be placed. His clothes didn’t give him away, because even Taekwoon had noticed that, save for his lack of shoes, the Fae had been dressed, well, human-like. He had been wearing black denim jeans, for Pete’s sake. No, it had to be something else.

His active mind plagued him until somewhere an hour or so later, when Taekwoon was in the glorious and tranquil state between sleep and wake, he placed Jaehwan’s face. It was the one he thought he had seen etched into the trees in Hallyeohaesang National Park.