#anyways no crying cause the literal last page its all ‘ a moment of silence for our fallen professor.. AND IN NEXT ISSUE MAGNETO’S BACK’

[xxplastic-cubexx]

obsessed with how the literal second charles first dies in the classic comics magneto finally comes back for the first time in like twenty issues

[thewritingstar]

The Sun Sets With You

Pairing: Blossutch 

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls 

Rating: T

Word count: 6k 

Warnings: Major Character Death. 

Note: I am so excited to finish this fic! Thank you so much to @creativecilla for commissioning time and time again. She asked for a sad and angsty fic so I hope I delivered! (She also asked for a happy fic so dont worry that's coming soon)

Don't worry there will be a little bonus after this so don't come for my throat too hard.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoy this because I had the time of my life writing it while crying.

Thanks for reading <3

(the italicized is flashbacks just in case ya confused :) 

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“Your love is like a sunset, the longer I wait, it slowly fades into the sea, making a beautiful distraction, As loneliness and despair creep from behind like the shadow of the night.” -Albion Gremory

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The gate waits patiently for her to cross. It's black and shiny as if it were polished just for her. She has been here for almost an hour and yet she hasn't moved an inch. The bouquet of flowers she spent just as long picking out are starting to get annoyed by her lack of movement and although they don’t have a voice or emotions, she can tell they are growing weary too.

She doesn’t understand. Why couldn’t she simply walk forward and make this easy? She was a trained assassin, a spy at the very core where nothing could challenge her except for this field of grass. Grass that is bright green and thriving yet underneath its healthy roots, is a minefield of bodies. It's odd to think about. The care and water used to make sure that the green is at its brightest and the stone looks nice but in reality, it won’t matter.

Nothing matters anymore.

Her grip tightens on the poor flowers. A frail red ribbon holds them together instead of being wrapped in her ginger hair where it belongs. The last time she wore it was the day...it's been a while.

The cemetery has a familiar feel to it. She’s been here before. She has been here many times and has even memorized the grounds. However, this time is much more...intimate. A much more personal experience.

It was never personal because in her line of work, this was normal and happened often. You would come into the office and hear about the poor sucker that got shot, stabbed or blown to bits, grab a hopefully fresh cup of coffee and make sure that you don’t end up the same as them. It was all a part of the job to join the unavoidable circle of life.

Before it was just people whose identities changed day in and day out to avoid this particular outcome. To avoid becoming worm food and having fresh flowers at the bottom of your name. Death never meant anything to her but an end we all have to face. It never meant to stop and think about your life because she didn’t have one to live.

There was no glory waiting for her back home as she finished another mission. There was no dream to achieve because she plagued those of her mind years ago. Warmth and desire from others could not be tolerated. It was dangerous to have anyone close to you but hurt even more when they were gone.

Her dreams had been swept into the night and burned like a fallen star. They were meant for rare quiet days where she could close her eyes and have a glimpse of another chance at life and then it would be over and she couldn’t allow anyone to hold her back. But just as there are dreams, nightmares will surface too.

This was a nightmare only for her eyes. It was common for members of their work to come and pay respects if they got time but for this, she asked that she would be the first. And only then was anyone else allowed.

The months that ate away at her aching heart caused her to be the opposite. She said she had gone, said her dues and the rest followed. Her lies now corrupted her normal life, if you could even call it normal.

So she became the last person and perhaps that's for the best. Even in death, she keeps him waiting. But unlike the other times, he couldn’t leave or say anything about it. The silence of the coffin was enough for her to know that she might get the last words like always but she doesn’t want them.

She would rather keep her words to herself, her mouth stapled shut than utter the last words. She also knew that he would rather listen to her all day than have a moment of silence.

So here she is. A little black dress that poofs out gently at the bottom just above her knees. It was the same dress she had worn on their mission in Italy years ago. It had ended up on the hotel bathroom floor much sooner than expected, however this time the smell of sandalwood and pine had been washed out.

She feels like a housewife ready to see her lost husband coming back from the war in the form of a corpse. The only difference is her vision won’t include the golden bands. Her thumb grazes her ring finger feeling nothing but bare skin and it pains her to think that she was so close. So close to a dream.

She inhales and exhales. Her ability to control her emotions is unlike anyone else. If she chooses to be a stone wall, then nothing will make her crumble. For years she had seen bloodshed and violence. Encountered dangerous people and never once had a hard time sleeping.

Steps take her closer and she feels herself start to decay brick by brick.

Every breath comes out colder and slower and she doesn’t have to look to know she's right in front of it because all the oxygen surrounding her has left and replaced with a frosted void she's grown used to over these past few months.

“Hello.” Her voice is firm and polite.

Formal. She’s too formal and she can practically feel him rolling in his grave to tell her to die it down. Die it down. She hums at that thought and complies with the request that wasn’t even asked but she knows him.

Her feet slip out of her heels, the ones he had bought randomly. The ones she had danced in as he spun her slowly. Her toes feel the dew on the grass. She hates the feeling, her exposed skin starts to itch and irritate her but that just reminds her of her beating heart. So she forces herself to rest on her knees but keeps her eyes shut. Bravery was never something she lacked.

But being brave with her vulnerable emotions had never come easy.

“Just open them.” She scolds herself. No one is around but she feels like the entire world is staring at her.

This isn't work.

This isn’t a mission.

This is him.

Slowly her eyes flutter open to reveal the truth she tried to conceal. The wall inside of her has fallen. There's a suffocating way about this all. She's a woman of logic, a see it before believe it kind-of-person. It's a crumbling mess that turns her into ruins.

And that's when it hits her.

Like the fall of Rome, there are no survivors. There is no happy ending here. Everything leads to Rome...everything leads to heartbreak eventually.

Tears overwhelm everything else. Blossom Utonium has cried for a fallen coworker but never once had she had to grieve and take in the burden of her heart growing dark and heavy.

Her fingers clench the soil. She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to sob, not at the risk of seeming weak, but to actually force herself to come to terms with it. To see it written in stone as literal as it comes.

Butch Jojo is dead.

There’s no other way to put it. No soft angle to come at. No lessening the blow because she was there and saw it with her own eyes. No one had to tell her because she relieved it every time her eyes closed.

How was she supposed to go on? He was the piece of her puzzle that fit so neatly and perfectly. She didn’t realize that the picture became indecipherable the moment he was removed. She clawed at that table trying to put back all the pieces. Trying to figure out where they all go but she's left with segments that don’t seem to fit any longer.

He was her sun and moon, the day and night and every other cliche slapped onto an overpriced Hallmark card. He was it all, and now he is gone. Gone too soon and she barely had him in the first place.

The gravestone itself is simple. It's the only one on the lot that isn't decorated by a three foot high statue or a giant cross. It's as basic as they come yet the man it was for was far from it. There was no luxury of filling the coffin with a body. So every bit of him was taken physically and metaphorically from her.

His name is in an elegant cursive and his birth name. Something most people didn’t know. Usually spies and assassins change up their name to make their identity untraceable. She had known him as many different names, but Butch was the only one who she cared about. The only one to ever make her feel like herself.

Her fingers hover above the engraving before setting on the coldness and tracing it with the tip of her index finger. It takes her breath away like an old candle finally burning out.

She wonders if a cruel joke is being played on her as she stares at the curls of the cursive. It was the same font she had chosen for their makeshift wedding invitations the moment she realized that he was the one. Of course he would have had comic sans or some heavy metal font on his tombstone if he was given the chance just to spite everything and everyone.

She's sure that this was already made far before his death. In fact, she's convinced that everyone already has a grave with their name stored somewhere in the back for fast and easy access. Hers is probably waiting and collecting dust.

“Hi.” She utters, less formal than the first time and that felt like ages ago. “For the first time, I’m speechless.” She confesses. “I’m not quite sure what to say.”

For days she sat underneath her flickering desk light writing a speech for a funeral that no one would attend.

The words never came into place even though she deemed herself a thoughtful writer. But what do you say when the person who gave you a reason to speak is gone? Was there anything worth uttering when she couldn’t bring herself to do it?

But she wrote. She wrote everything she had felt and ended with a flood of pages on her desk. Pens with tired ink cartridges littered her desk and endless chicken scratched papers were tossed away. It needed to be thoughtful and inviting but in reality, it just needed to be the words she never said.

The moment she finished writing them, she threw them into a box to never see the light of day. But when she finally had the courage to come and pay her respects, she became drawn to them. Her mind fought with her hands to take them even if she decided to keep them in her purse.

Her purse opens and she takes out a few pages. The ones that made her heart ache the most and that are decorated with stains of dried tears. She clears her throat. “The first time I met you, I thought nothing of it. It was in front of the coffee maker at work, you had just joined our firm and you walked by, glanced at me and then you were gone into the other room. That was it. That's what we were meant to be. A simple meeting of the eyes and then we don’t interact again.”

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The coffee drips way too slow, she thinks. A state of the art facility full of lasers, guns and cars and they couldn’t be bothered to get something just slightly better. The mug finishes filling just in time for her patience to run out. She grabs it and turns to look out towards the rows of cubicles that make it seem like a simple office.

Instead of a bored coworker looking tired at a computer, she's met with green eyes and an emotionless face. For a second she saw his lips turn into a smirk. It's quick. A match striking the box with a flame igniting on impact. And then it’s dropped in water and out just as fast. He's gone by the time she blinks next and even though it was nothing, those eyes fueled a fire she wasn’t sure she had.

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“But then I kept seeing more and more of you.”

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“You clean up nice.” Blossom turned to see a guy. She recognized him from last week, a new transfer who she only caught a glance at. He was in a highly expensive tux and was adjusting the equally priced watch on his wrist.

“I assume you must be my new partner.” She said as she mentally analyzed him slowly. Slicked black hair, looks as if he goes to the gym quite often, hands looks steady for a firearm. Green. Forest green eyes.

He smiled. “Must be.”

“You can call me Amanda.” Her fake name suited her fine as she checked the time. “I hope that you read over the files of our mission.”

“I tend to skim and wing it.” He winked and that irked her. “Matts fine for the evening.”

Blossom, or Amanda for now, kept her eyes from rolling and walked to him and wrapped her arm around his. “You might be my husband for this mission but if you fuck up, you better be thankful this isn’t legally bounded.” She finished with a flutter of her eyelashes and a smile before pulling him along.

She didn’t get too far before he pulled her back and her bright pink eyes met deep green ones closely. “I take my job very seriously. But I wouldn’t dream of making you mad at me. But on the other hand, I admire strong women.”

She didn’t know why she didn’t smack him in the face. Usually every partner who has tried to flirt or mess with her learned the hard way that is a no no. Yet, even after moments of knowing him, there was something genuine about him that she couldn’t quite understand but became interested in.

“Glad to see we are on the same page Matt.”

“Of course Amanda.” Butch replied and held out his hand. “After you.”

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The trees nearby moved in the breeze without a care in the world. They had nothing to care for except for their leaves changing in the fall and losing them in the winter. But leaves always came back, they always blossomed and started a new life and were the same tree no matter how many times the seasons passed.

She wondered if those trees ever felt heartbreak or if it was easier to lose something when you know it will come back to you with time. She envied those trees. Envied the way that they can continue their lives just growing and flourishing and it felt like her leaves were turning to dust as she was being cut down.

From her purse she pulled out a thermos and two plastic cups. She nestled one into the ground as she poured the wine into the cup and then one into hers.

“I never cared for this brand of wine before I met you.” She smiled softly and took a sip. “Never cared for a lot of things. Yet this was your favorite and everytime we had a mission, I could always find you relaxing with a glass. I guess it became an acquired taste over time. You became my taste.”

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“Care for a glass?” He asked her as she sat in front of the fireplace.

Due to them working together for more than a year, the agency decided that personal rooms weren’t necessary and if anyone were to see them leave together and follow, it would fit with their stories.

Blossom looked up from the book she just pulled out. A dissatisfying glare focused on the bottle in his hand. “No thanks, that stuff is garbage.”

Butch, or well, Sebastian for the evening, scoffed. “Garbage?” He exclaimed dramatically. “This is some of the finest wine in the world.”

“I’ve had better.”

“It's from Italy!”

“I prefer local or even cheap box wine to that.” Blossom scanned her book.

Butch only huffed again but still proceeded to pour two glasses and joined her on the floor.

“I said I didn’t want any.”

“I think you just haven’t had it with the right company.” He smirked and offered her the glass.

She rolled her eyes and took the glass, her book forgotten now. Blossom brought the glass to her lips, took a sip and tried her best to hold back a grimace. “It's fine.”

He only shook his head and drank his own glass, the small smile on his lips never leaving. “Butch.”

She turned the glass in her hand then glanced at him. “What?”

“Butch. That's my name, my real name.”

Her heart started beating quicker. “Why are you telling me this? You shouldn’t be.”

It was a common understanding. You might know the face of your partner or colleagues but a name and identity was off the table. The only thing anyone needed to track down someone was a name. And the moment it's out there, you can start counting your days.

Butch shurgged and downed the rest of his wine. “Not sure. Never told anyone before. Well anyone who I didn't know beforehand. But there's something about you. I don’t think you fully trust me. I get it of course. I don’t trust people at all.”

“So why tell me?” She questioned.

His eyes met hers. Seriousness washed across his face and any hint of amusement was gone. “I have no one in my life who knows me as Butch anymore. Only myself and my thoughts. And after years in this shit business-you’re the only partner I’ve had that I trust with my life.”

Her fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. Her poor heart is beating much faster; she's sure he can hear it. She’s never had a partner like him. Never met a person who she blindly trusted like this.

“Blossom.” She blurts out. “My name is Blossom.”

And that smirk returns and his eyes soften. She's seen him kill a man before and yet he looks so incredibly soft and honest.

“That's a pretty unique name.”

“My father told me it was because of cherry blossom trees.” She smiles at the memory. She reaches and takes the brown contact from her eyes. Her main defying feature that no one but the higher ups knew about.

Her eyelashes flutter as she places them in the contacts case. She looks back at Butch and prepares for the intergation look.

It never comes.

Instead he's looking at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the world. Pastel pink eyes greet his own and he's taken back and tries to keep these emotions down.

“Its weird I know-

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.” He interrupts. “And I swear I’m not drunk.

That flicker resurfaced. The match struck the box but the flame was held much longer this time. Her reaction surprised the both of them as she laughed and her smile reached her eyes, something they haven’t done naturally in years.

She controlled her laugh and hummed bringing the glass to her lips and taking another sip. It wasn’t as bad as the first. “And you are very-”

“Charming? Irresistible?”

“Interesting.” She finished.

The bottle poured more wine into his glass and he tapped it to hers. “I’ll take it for now.” He winked.

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Her glass is empty now. She pours the glass for him into the soil, hoping to give him one last taste of what he loved.

“Over the years I forgot myself, you have to.” Blossom tells him. “I forgot my passions and hobbies. The simple pleasures of life were taken from me when I joined this path.”

The books on her shelf at home had collected dust over the years. The pages stuck as the days passed but only recently did she find herself opening them, even to just a random page and basking in the tiny shred of warmth it gave her.

“I felt those pleasures rise with you. Even buying a simple candle because you said you liked the scent brought me a joy I hadn’t noticed was missing. I was missing everything in life because I didn’t have a light to guide me.”

She bites her lips hoping to stop another sob. How many tears can a person shed in a short amount of time? When do they stop and allow the body to rest?

“That first time you kissed me.” Her voice cracks. “That's when I started believing that life could be more than what we were conditioned to do.”

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Her feet ached. Her heels were in her hands and she was tired from another successful work day. After six months of locating and sniffing out an underground drug market, they finally caught the group of men.

She glanced at her shoes and dress, irritated that the blood ruined another perfectly good outfit. She wanted to just get into her room, take a bath and pass out on her bed and to not be distrubed for at least seventy two hours.

She got to her hotel door and started to search for her key.

“Oh shit.” She grumbled. Her purse was nowhere in sight.

“Here.”

Blossom turned to see Butch holding the desginer bag.

A sigh of relief left her lips as she took it and fished out the key card. He leaned against the wall, clearly tired and wanting to rest like her. Two years they had been partners. The longest partnership she’s had and she wasn’t complaining. Usually they shared a room on missions but they had separate rooms this time.

“Tired?” She glanced at him.

“No, I'm fully awake.” He said sarcastically. “I feel like I got hit by a freight train.”

“I’m sure those guys thought they did too when you punched them.” Her door clicked open but she didn’t move.

“Oh please, you did most of the heavy lifting. I mean who takes down a giant dude with a high kick in heels.” He was practically beaming with pride from the memory. “Badass stuff Bloss.”

She was sure there was a blush on her cheeks. Shaking those thoughts from her head she smiled and opened the door. “Goodnight Butch.”

“Night.”

…

..

.

“Isn’t this the part where you walk into your room?” He raises a bow that is answering the silent question she asked.

She straightens her back. “Shouldn’t you be walking to yours?”

He moves closer to her. Brushing the hair on her shoulders off and there's a buzz throughout her as his fingers graze her shoulders.

He's closer now. Their lips only inches apart and although her body is killing her and aching, she can’t help but let her mind wander.

“I prefer the view right here.” He says in almost a whisper that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “And possibly even the taste.”

His lips press against hers. They have kissed many times in front of people on missions but it's never been like this. Never a sign that everything she had been feeling, wanting could be hers for the taking.

It's not fast and heated. It's slow as if he's testing out the waters that he can glady swim in. It's a sign that they know they shouldn’t be doing this but for once, she's playing by a different set of rules.

They break apart. The kiss wasn’t very long but the sparks linger and scorch through her body. She's afraid to look at him now. Afraid that rejection and everything she had told herself not to want, can’t be hers. The ground should just swallow her whole now.

She feels a hand softly touch her cheek and she looks up at him. This look on his face, she can't describe it. She can see the gears turning in his head, wondering if this was a mistake just as she thought.

But rejection never comes. He doesn’t pull or push away.

Instead his lips turn slightly up. “I know we fight for the greater good, but I’m starting to think I have a different purpose.”

“What?” She questions.

“You.”

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She could have sworn it's only been a few minutes but the sky’s blue had morphed into a dusty pink. A wonderful sunset that she is surprised she can still find beauty in. She knows she’ll have to leave soon. She is afraid that when she does, she might not come back.

One of the final happy moments with him was weeks before his death. Five years they had known each other and it was all washed down the drain.

Her head turns towards the sky as she basks in the sunset. “I hope that wherever you are there are still skies like these.”

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Sunsets in Hawaii were much better in person than any photo could capture.

“Another successful mission.” Blossom giggles as she takes a sip of her mai tai. Her feet are swaying above the water and the breeze flows through her hair. She hasn’t remembered being this peaceful but she could get used to it.

“Yeah.” Butch says as he downs his drink.

Five years she's known him. Every action and mannerism he's done is burned in her memory. It's the most priceless information she has, the most important because it's all hers.

He seems calm, she admits. But something is on his mind. He's not thriving in the glory of another mission or running around crazy and jumping into the ocean like the days before. He seems to be in deep thought. Something she's not quite sure she likes.

The horizon catches her eyes. “The sky is pretty.” She adds.

“Runaway with me.”

The movement of the waves stops. The breeze halts and her eyes widen.

“What?” She turns towards him. “Runaway?”

He nods. “Runaway from this place and all its madness. We could get married, travel the world, anything you want.” He took her hand. “I don’t care where we go. I just want to be with you.”

“With me?” She's practically speechless.

Butch cracks a smile. “Only you. Imagine this.” He scoots closer to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “A house on private property, hell maybe even a beachfront. You have your own little library and I’ll even get you a nice espresso machine. A garden with all the flowers you could imagine and even a baby grand piano since I know how much you love to play.”

The images flood her mind. “That sounds lovely.”

“And you wanna know the best part?” He asks.

She nods her head. “Tell me.”

“I would get to wake up each morning with you in my arms.” He smirks and kisses her softly.

“That would be the best part.” She hums against his lips. Her stomach then drops. “But we can’t.”

“Three good reasons.”

She tried to think. How could she leave the agency she's been in since she was a kid? How could she throw everything away? These feelings she had were all muddled into a mess that she didn’t know how to get out of. That vision he told her sounded like a dream.

That's what this was. A dream. Something she wasn’t allowed to have. But she wanted it.

Butch sighed. “I guess it's easier for me cause I’m selfish.” He smiled softly at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Whatever choice you make, as long as I can still be by your side, is fine by me.”

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Blossom looks at the notes in her hands then back to the stone.

“I’m sorry Butch.” She cries and crumples them. Tears overwhelm her once again but she doesn’t wipe them or try to stop it. She is a dam that's been holding it all for too long. Holding her emotions for years and she was tired.

“Everyone told me to come here to get closure, but I don't want that. I want to feel the emptiness and shallowness. I want to cry myself to sleep and wish I could hold you again. It's torturous and cruel to think like that but it means that it was real. And that it was mine. This-” She beats her fingers against her chest, against her heart. “This is yours.”

“I am sorry Butch. I vowed to never let my heart act over my head. And that is something I regret deeply. You were right. You always have been. You wanted me without hesitation and I’m sorry I was guarded. But I swear when I was with you I wasn’t.”

The laughter and joy he brought her. She felt like she was breathing for the first time around him and even in the most serious situations there was still an element of peace.

“I had hoped that I would never have to say this. Never had to face this reality because it's too painful. I tried to deny it all, even though I watched it happen. Maybe if I had never let myself be charmed by you, I could avoid all these feelings but we both know that you were just so-’ She bites a laugh. “Irresistible.”

Her voice got louder as her sobs grew. “Every single moment was worth it. Your eyes and your smile. The way you knew what I was thinking even though no one else could ever know. I treated it like our job but the truth is, I wanted you to figure me out so I could finally tell myself it's okay to be happy. That's what you were Butch. My happiness.”

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This can’t be happening, she thought. Never in her entire career had she been kidnapped and captured. She was careful and guarded but they got the best of them this time.

The gag in her mouth was doing its job and her wrists were bound behind her back. The cold chill ran up her spine as she watched the men drag him in front of her. He was a few feet away and his face was covered in blood and bruises.

“Only one of you makes it out alive.” The man said.

She tried to pull against the restraints but felt the cool metal touch the back of her head.

“No moving sweetheart.” She heard behind her.

She watched as they removed Butch’s gag and he choked on the air before his hair was pulled and he was forced to look at her.

Those dark green eyes met with frightened brown but he knew that below the color was a brilliance of magenta that he adored.

He should be scared and terrified. And he was. But looking at her even in this state, he felt a sense of happiness wash over him. Everything he never thought he could have was right there in front of him.

Tears fell from her eyes as she watched the man stab him in the stomach. The knife plunged into his flesh and Butch let out a horrifc cry as she screamed into the gag.

“Dying words buddy?” The man laughed as he pulled out a gun and held it up to head.

Even through the pain shooting through his body, he looked at her with tears in his eyes.

His lips turned into a smile, even with blood coating his teeth. “Blossom-” He coughed.

No.

No.

Please No!

She wanted to scream and tell him that she takes it all back. She wanted her dress and the ring. She wanted their own house and a piano where she could play for him.

Everything. She wanted everything.

She wanted him.

“I love you.” He says. 

BAM!

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Her breath catches in her throat as she sees it. The blood and the life leaving his eyes. It replays and she tries to stop the memory.

“Could you ever forgive me?” She sobs. “Forgive me for not telling you?”

Her hand presses against the gravestone. She's not sure what she's hoping for but it's cold.

“You said it moments before your death and I couldn’t even let you die with that. Yet through that you smiled at me. You fucking smiled as death was taking you faster than I could realize because you knew. I couldn’t say it. No matter how much I wanted to tell you, I was afraid that the moment I did, this would happen. I wasn’t prepared to lose you. I wasn’t ready to face a life where I would spend every waking moment wondering if waking up next to you was truly real or a dream.”

Anger rises in her. Anger at the world and the men who killed him. Angry at the agency who turned the other eye when he died. There was nothing for her there anymore. She realized it way too late that she was robbed of everything from this life. Robbed of having him because she was afraid.

“I don't get it. How did you make me want that so bad? How you took my heart and made it beat faster than ever before. You told me to be selfish so here it is. I want you. I want you back and alive so that I can go and buy that white dress. I want everything you said.”

The anger bubbling shifts. It lingers but she takes a deep breath. It won’t help her to be angry or to bring him back. That sorrow takes its hold over her again. It's sad but calming as she tries to reason with herself that he is gone. She knows closure won’t come but she's okay with that.

“But that's not the reality anymore. I can’t change the past but I won’t change the future either. I am deeply and madly in love with you Butch. You gave me a glimpse of what a normal and fulfilling life could be and I thank you for that. Thank you for giving me slices of happiness and making me feel like I was worth loving.”

She reaches into her purse one last time and pulls out a letter and a box. “I resigned and I bought myself a ring.” She opens it and slips on the silver band with a small opal. “It's silly I know, not even a wedding ring. I hope you don’t mind. I stole one of the gems from your watch to make it.” She cries.

“They took all your stuff you know.” Her hands quiver as she stares at her ring. “They took every part of you like it was nothing, like you didn’t exist at all. The watch was all I could get.”

The sun is now setting and the breeze picks up. She's not cold anymore, and can't feel anything.

“They’ll kill me, I'm sure of it. That's what happens when you leave. And when they do, I better see you on the other side. A place where we can watch the sunset and have our little home. A place where this emptiness inside me can be whole again. I just want a place where I can love you.”

The glasses and letters go back into her purse. The flowers lay with her ribbon at the base as she stands and dusts off her dress.

She finally wipes her tears and forces a wonderful soft smile. “You were the most charming and wonderful man I have ever had the honor of working with. But most importantly, you were proof that dreams could come true.”

She touches the stone one last time. Feels the coolness but it's not as frightening. She's not afraid anymore. Blossom takes a step back and her eyes dance over his name one last time. She slips on her heels and grabs her purse.

“Goodbye my love.” She says and makes her way across the grass to the black gate.

​​✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

I hope you enjoyed! 

[lover-of-skellies]

9, Nightberry? (uwu angst)

I've never written anything for this particular ship (since I'm assuming you're talking about Nightmare x Blueberry), so I hope it's at least halfway decent. This was supposed to be a horror prompt, I know, but I somehow made it really fckin sad instead, so rip anyone who reads it, I guess

A forewarning: this includes some major character death toward the end

-

"I'm here, Night! What did you wanna talk about?"

The guardian of negativity glanced up from his book, swiftly marking his page and closing it, tucking the item into his jacket. He sighed softly, trying his best to remain relaxed as he watched the smaller skeleton approach him, all too cheerful and at ease for comfort.

Oh god. He was really about to do this, wasn't he?

Nightmare slowly stood up, his single cyan iris focused entirely on the swap skeleton as he cleared his throat, trying to search for the right words, "My staff aren't... the brightest, when it comes to anything to do with feelings. And I'd much rather die than talk to Dream about any of this." Blueberry tilted his head, clasping his gloved hands behind his back and offering the other a wide smile, accompanied by his signature starry sockets, "And you chose to talk to me? Oh wowzers, that's... unexpected, honestly, but the Magnificent Sans would be happy to assist you in whatever ways you need!"

Nightmare stared at the shorter of the two in silence for a moment, those bright, large star shaped eye lights almost mesmerizing. He felt his soul thud against his ribs and he did his best to will away the faint blush that had threatened to find its way onto his cheekbones, "Yeah, well... You're the only reliable source I've got. Anyways. Because my strength lies only in the negative, I need you to clarify some things for me, concerning a neutral emotion."

Blueberry nodded, his sockets wide with curiosity, "Alright, that sounds easy enough. What's the emotion?" The goop covered guardian hesitated for a moment, embarrassment beginning to rear its ugly head again, "...Love."

Under his sharp and observant stare, Nightmare took notice of the soft sky blue blush that faintly dusted across the smaller male's face at the word 'love'. He didn't understand what reason Blue could possibly have for being flustered too, but he brushed off the thought, continuing, "I need you to tell me what it feels like." Blueberry nodded again, his brow bones knit tightly in concentration as he fumbled for an adequate explanation, "Well... I guess... it feels warm? Happy, even. And full, like your heart finally found whatever piece was missing. When you love someone, you'd do anything to make sure they were safe and happy, and you just want to be near them, all the time."

The guardian was frozen in place, his expression fixed into a pensive stare as he thought over his companion's words. When the realization finally dawned on him, his shoulders visibly became tense and his cyan iris constricted in fear.

He was in love.

And of all people, he was in love... with Blue.

No. This couldn't be happening. Not to him, not ever, not over his dead body. When love is pure enough, it becomes a positive emotion, which would undoubtedly cause him harm. Blueberry himself would also unintentionally cause him harm if he got too close, as well. Shit... this wasn't good.

He slowly lifted his gaze to look at the swap skeletons' face again, his soul skipping a beat at the soft blue and gentle, warm smile he wore. Feeling a blush spreading across his own cheekbones, Nightmare mentally cursed at himself. If only Blue wasn't so damn cute-

The shorter of the two looked up at Nightmare, almost appearing bashful as he asked, "Why'd you ask?... Love isn't something that normally would've caught your attention, is it?" Night took a deep breath; fuck. This... this little twerp was smarter than he looked, too. Damnit all-

He shifted awkwardly in place, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck vertebrae, "I uh..." And now he couldn't even think of what to say. If he hadn't hated himself, he definitely would've now.

As if connecting the dots, Blue seemed to perk up, his sockets widening in surprise as he looked up at the guardian in shock. Eye lights once again shifting into large stars as another broad smile stretched across his face, and he took a few steps closer to the other, playfully nudging him, "Oh my gosh! You're in love, aren't you, Night?!" The skeleton in question tried to ignore the uncomfortable tingling sensation the other's excitement and happiness had begun to stir within him, and his cyan blush became visibly brighter as he scoffed, shifting his eye lights elsewhere. As long as he wasn't looking at Blue, he'd be fine. He could do this. He'd toppled entire worlds and drew strength from their suffering. What was one tiny little confession going to hurt?

He hesitated, fidgeting anxiously as he mumbled something under his breath. Not quite able to make out what he'd said, Blueberry raised a brow bone and tilted his head, "What was that?... I don't think I heard you." Nightmare mentally screamed at himself, wanting nothing more than to open a portal and go literally anywhere else than to stick around here. He drew in a deep breath, deciding to try again. His voice came out barely audible, but despite that, the words he'd uttered left the other in shock: "I... you. It's you... I'm... I love you, Blue."

Blueberry was silent, his sockets still wide as he stated at the guardian in disbelief. Nightmare reluctantly looked the swap skeletons' face, suddenly feeling anxious. At the sight of a single blue tinted tear rolling down his cheek, the guardian cringed; that tear wasn't one of fear or sadness... that was one of... happiness? What the...?

And then, with a brighter blush than he'd ever seen before in his entire life, Blueberry moved even closer to him than before, his gloved hands delicately finding the others face. Nightmare felt his body momentarily tense, but as he felt Blue's teeth press against his own, he began to relax again, melting into their first kiss with relative ease.

The positivity that Blue was giving off grew stronger, and the uncomfortable tingling Nightmare had felt before escalated, now a searing hot pain that ripped through his very being the way a hot knife sliced through butter; as much as he wanted nothing more than to continue kissing the one he truly loved, this degree of pain scared him. Tentacles emerging from his back and spasming as he fought with himself, he broke away from the kiss and nearly doubled over in pain. Blueberry frowned, his voice soft as he began to reach out to touch the guardian, "Night?... Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?"

Remaining doubled over, the guardian focused his hazy eye light on the others face, cyan tinted tears pricking at the edge of his visible socket as he shook his head, "N-No, it's not you... it's... the positivity. The positivity is hurting me, and it won't stop." Blue delicately brushed away the guardian's tears with his thumb, his expression fixed into one of concern, "What can I do to help you? There has to be something, right?" The tainted part of Nightmare's mind growled, recognizing Blue as the source of the pain, and his visible socket went wide in genuine fear, "Get away from me. Get away, Blue. It's not safe, you could get hurt if you stay here." The shorter skeleton solemnly shook his head, his voice soft as he offered the other a small smile in reassurance, "Don't worry about me, I'll be ok. I'm not gonna leave you though... you shouldn't have to go through this alone. Not anymore."

Nightmare let out a strangled cry of pain, absentmindedly swatting Blue's hands away and covering his face as he took a shaky breath, "Blue, that's very sweet, but I'm serious. You need to leave, NOW. My body's programmed to destroy whatever hurts me. You're making me feel things. Positive things. If you stay, you'll die!" Blue gently tugged Night's hands away from his face, gently holding them and delivering a soft squeeze. Meeting the guardian's gaze, he smiled lovingly, and Nightmare couldn't sense any fear or sadness in him... none whatsoever. Blue's voice was a soft murmur as he leaned closer to Night, "I don't care. I'm staying here because I love you, Nightmare."

Unable to suppress his cry of pain, Nightmare ripped his hands out of Blue's grasp, and they flew up to his skull, his clawed fingers beginning to scrape at the top of his head. His single eye light was constricted, now no bigger than a pin prick, and feeling his tendrils begin to spasm wildly again, he tightly squeezed his socket shut, sobbing, "I'm... I'm so sorry. I can't... I don't want to-"

The last thing he felt was a gloved hand delicately touching his face, and the last thing he heard was Blue's voice, no more than a whisper, "It's ok... I forgive you."

And then immediately following suit was the loud sound of bones snapping. Nightmare kept his socket squeezed tightly shut, not wanting to see Blue's expression. The silence was deafening, and as he felt dust drift through the stagnant air and cling to his face, he sobbed loudly. He was alone now... again. He dropped his hands back down to his sides, tipping his head back to look up at the sky. The only person who'd ever grown to love him despite what he'd become was gone, and it was his fault. Maybe someday though, he'd be able to see him again.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 105: Luna Lovegood

Last co-authored with Tiffiny Smith, thanks for all your help!

HPHPHPHP

Regulus found himself tangled in something - the branches of a tree? After a moment of panic making sure it wasn't the Whomping Willow, he disentangled himself and peeked out at the ground below, where the other seven were getting their bearings.

What caught his attention, however, was the giant tower not ten yards away. Despite its forbidding appearance, it had some wide, decent-sized steps leading up to a door with an eagle-shaped knocker, the whole affair had some pretty windows, and there was a well-maintained path with a sign (or maybe three) on it leading to the road some distance away. Regulus couldn't read the sign (it was facing the road), but Potter made a beeline for it.

Then he stopped and stared.

"Well?" Sirius hollered. "What's it say? Where are we?"

"Whose place is this?" Alice asked, staring at the tower.

"The Quibbler," said Potter. "Editor, X. Lovegood. Anybody heard of him?" The pureblood name rang an old bell in his head, but he'd never met one personally.

"Lovegood?" said Frank, furrowing his brow in confusion, the same running through his own mind. Had his mum ever mentioned an oddball named Lovegood in school?

"Don't ask me!" Potter said back. "Listen to this: pick your own mistletoe. And Keep Off the... dir..igg...ibble plums."

Sirius darted over to a bush with radish-like fruits on them and threw one at Potter, who caught it and looked confused.

Regulus decided watching them was a waste of time and set about searching for the book, which was wedged in a windowsill just barely out of reach. He Accio'd it and started reading. Well, Luna was either the wife or kid of this X., and judging by the fact Harry was back off to school, either were likely. Either a student Harry was about to meet or the new DADA teacher.

It wasn't as if he was anxious to be away from here, at least he was finally in a respectable pureblood home again, only the second since all this madness had started counting his own. Yet, for the first time in his life, he didn't care. He had no inclination to get to know these people just because his parents would have wanted him too, not knowing who else they wanted him to befriend, Bellatrix at the top of his list he may start avoiding right along with Sirius now. Best to focus on the part of getting them out of here instead.

Right off the bat Harry was having bizarre dreams. His parents were mentioned, and Potter came back from the sign to join the others. Sirius's mouth was wagging noiselessly at the notion that Mrs. Weasley would cry over Kreacher's dead body. Out of it all, Ron and Hermione wearing crowns was about the most normal part of Harry's dreams, and the dark corridor with a door at the end stood out only because of how irrelevant it was.

Harry woke up, and everyone brightened immediately at the prospect of going to Hogwarts.

"Nothing too bad can happen there, right?" said Potter cheerily, and Regulus rolled his eyes at him. He wasn't the only one. Had he been listening to the past four books?

The hustle and bustle of getting ready to leave was a sharp contrast to the tranquility of the garden. Mother's shrieking, which nobody was bothering to silence, and which Regulus winced slightly at having to read aloud, only added to the distinction.

Then Sirius showed up in dog form, managed to insist his way into Mad-Eye Moody's guard (which was one short) and Molly worried on and on about everything (which Regulus was beginning to understand she thought of as her solemn duty, surpassed only perhaps by Mad-Eye) and causing Harry to liken her to Aunt Petunia, which raised instant protest from Lily.

"Mrs. Weasley is nothing like that vile woman!" the redhead fumed. "Their attitudes may be similar, but they spring from polar opposite motivations."

No one had the death sentence in them to argue with her even if they disagreed, which none did.

The group proceeded to the train until it was time to depart, and Padfoot said his goodbyes to Harry in far too human-like fashion, but it was absolutely ruined by Mrs. Weasley using his real name instead of Padfoot, or even Snuffles. Regulus still couldn't help pausing over the scene regardless as his mind wrapped around every oddity of it. Sirius, as a dog, which he still wasn't used to the idea of. Sirius giving a fond farewell to a godson he'd arguably spent more time worrying about than his own brother. He wanted to talk to him, the urge growing more desperate with every page, but there was a streak of pride deep in him that made the idea loathsome. Sirius would only listen to him now because he was starting to agree with him rather than just wanting to talk to his brother again, Regulus would just have to figure this out for himself.

Once on the train, at least Harry's problems took an easy center stage, Ron and Hermione mock-abandoning him for their prefect duties and leaving him in the company of Ginny, Neville, and the pre-acclaimed 'Loony' Lovegood, per Ginny's introduction.

She certainly did start off a sight, and only got more interesting the longer she talked. Loony did seem to support her, between the butterbeer cork necklace and wearing vegetation as jewelry. This odd paper, the Quibbler, was once again referenced in Luna's own hands, but rather than finally getting a peek at that article mentioning Sirius, Harry instead turned to Neville and they began chatting about some plant.

He admittedly would have grown rather bored with that very fast, if it didn't send some slime all over the whole compartment just as Cho Chang walked in.

Regulus nearly fell out of the tree laughing at the mental image, and even as he caught his breath back and glanced down he saw he wasn't the only one. Peter had been scaling the tree, to join him presumably, but was now only halfway up and clutching a branch precariously for support. Sirius had fallen into the dirigible plum bush and looked covered in them like he was trying to add to Luna's fashion statement.

Literally all of them had gotten a laugh out of it, even that Muggleborn Evans. He smiled to himself and reached down to offer Peter a hand to help him the rest of the way up, watching patiently as he got himself a more steady branch before continuing.

Regulus listened with some unfamiliar dread in his stomach as the two prefects returned to the carriage and explained their new duties, as well as explaining Malfoy was the Slytherin one, to no one's surprise. His parents were already talking about the party they'd be throwing when he got that badge come next summer, and they'd given Sirius a whole new level of shit when he hadn't gotten one. Neither boy had even thought that was possible until they'd seen it in action. Sirius had acted as if he hadn't even cared, and for the first time Regulus squirmed at his fate pressing in on him even sooner than he'd imagined. Now it was next summer that would be the real test instead of even waiting until he was of age and letting his parents down he didn't necessarily want what they did. He certainly had no desire to be a prefect, how would they take that news?

"Hey, you alright?" Peter asked quietly. He'd been picking off leaves and shredding them for his own amusement, he'd even been considering moving a branch over into a patch of sun and maybe closing his eyes and really enjoy this brief respite of anything horrifying happening to them or Harry, but he couldn't very well do that when Regulus started chewing on the inside of his cheek over something as silly as the prefect badges.

Regulus met his eyes in surprise for several moments, before smiling kindly and answering honestly, "I've been better." He glanced down at his brother though and kept reading instead of elaborating, and Peter nodded to himself, Sirius did feel like the problem and the answer on most given situations.

Sirius was too busy still laughing to even notice Peter had ditched them again, let alone Regulus was trying to catch his eye from ten feet above him. Luna Lovegood was a hoot, he wished she was alive and in school with them now! She'd be as much fun to pull pranks on as Evans, this blonde may even laugh along at them!

James was listing against him for support as they all heard the article about Sirius presumably being some singing sensation. "Well go on then Stubby!" James wheezed. "Give us a tune and I'm sure the Ministry will never look twice at you again!"

"Don't encourage him," Remus rolled his eyes, but far too late, Sirius began singing the last Sorting Hat song they'd heard verbatim.

Lily, Alice, and Frank didn't think he could make the next top charts or anything, but they were reasonably impressed he even remembered the thing from the beginning of their year.

Regulus seemed to be ignoring them above anyways and didn't let them have any more fun with it, predictably, as he kept reading the next article as well, something about Fudge murdering goblins into pies, it was just too funny! Sirius still hadn't climbed out of the bush.

"Oh stop you idiots," Lily finally had enough, her temper snapping, they literally could not take anything seriously! "In case you've forgotten, Sirius is a wanted man for multiple murders! How is laughing at this poor girl helping that?"

"Haven't forgotten," Remus scowled at her, instantly insulted she seemed to think otherwise.

"No harm in laughing off this drivel in the meantime," James finished, completely unrepentant as he grinned at her.

Lily glanced down and saw Sirius Black was still smiling, the first time she knew of he'd done so in the face of this bleak future ahead of him, and hesitated saying anything back.

Regulus hadn't really thought much of the article, no sane person would believe that long enough to hear anyone out, and yet the real story was just as convoluted. Instead he'd kept going, now killing any pretense of a good mood as Malfoy barged into the compartment. His blood chilled at the parting words he left, not in fact more arrogance, but a sly observation of apparently having noticed Sirius on the platform!

His idiot brother was already safe back at Grimmauld place though, he quickly soothed himself, whether he wanted to be or not. Malfoy, Lucius or Draco, were no match for him even if he wasn't.

His mouth was still much more dry than usual though as he forced himself to keep going, but Sirius' snort of disbelief echoing up below wasn't as comforting as he would have thought.

Things only got more grim as Harry got off the train, and Hagrid of all people was absent from his usual post. None of them could even imagine it, the giant of a man had been there every year for the lake ride, now even that was changing. Would nothing in this future remain the same?

Clearly not, as even the carriages were now being pulled by beasts! What was happening to this school?

Peter saw Regulus's disturbed look as he read about the description of those ghastly horse-like things, and shouted loud enough that Stoatshead Hill had likely heard. "Ha! Take that you arseholes, I wasn't making them up!"

"Huh," was all James and Sirius could manage to say to that, while Remus's eyes widened with just as much excitement as if he were hearing about Blast-Ended Skrewts all over again.

"Fascinating, I'm so f'ing sorry Peter! What do you think they even are? Why can only you see them?"

"I can too," Frank frowned at the lot, but even Alice gave him a look of shock for the declaration.

He shrugged and looked just a bit shy at all attention suddenly on him. "What? Hadn't come up."

"How about all the ruddy times the 'horseless carriages' were mentioned!" Lily accused. "What on Earth are they?"

"Don't know," he frowned and tensed his shoulders as still everyone was looking at him now. "I've tried looking them up, but as Harry's said himself, it's a pretty big library when you don't know what you're looking for."

"What kind of Ravenclaw are you?" Sirius scowled.

Peter just smiled that finally his friends didn't think he was playing some weirdly elaborate prank on them any longer. It was no wonder to him his dormmates often thought he was soft in the head, seeing things they couldn't. Now the next time he swore he saw one in the forest, they'd actually believe him!

"What does it say that this Loony girl can see them too though," Sirius grinned and looked up at Peter obviously. He flipped him off, and Sirius laughed.

James and Remus released a breath both of them had been holding for a painfully long time, things really were going back to normal.

[sam-roulette]

rip to the alt Sasha survives s3 “the slaughter ritual is a battle of the bands wherein one of the 4 main mechanisms albums has the key to ending the world” crack au for being quite literally impossible to write 

so here’s how it was meant to go down:

- Jon gets kidnapped by Alfred Grifter himself and when he’s returned to the archives he has all 4 Mechs albums and also punches Tim in the face in a slightly slaughter-induced haze

- Jon immediately snapping out of it and being so apologetic he tells Tim to punch him back so they’re even. Tim, tiredly, tells him that no. He is not going to punch him back. “You don’t have to worry about if it hurts,” that’s. Not The Point.

- there’s some slaughter juice on the albums so everyone starts getting a little bloodthirsty, a fact that becomes apparent as the Archives splits along party lines- Jon is convinced High Noon Over Camelot is the world-ender, while Sasha insists that it’s The Bifrost Incident. Tim��s on  Sasha’s side; Martin says he’s impartial but implies Jon may have a point, and only chooses Once Upon A Time to keep up the veneer of not being biased. 

- Sasha manages to convince Tim to grab Ulysses Dies At Dawn so that none of the other possible combatants have it Just In Case that’s the one that ends the world so that she can stop him. Tim questions who’s gonna stop Sasha if he can’t get close once Red Signal starts and she says not to worry, I’ve got a plan

- the plan is she gets Not!Sasha out the basement to be her bandmate, promises it that it can eat her after the competition and (it can’t because of ) threatens it with a suspiciously high voltage taser. She has no plans to let it eat her later. She is a liar 

- Tim, predictably, does not take this well. Sasha tries joking that he doesn’t get her “artistic vision” and Tim says he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Sasha gets taken again. The argument gets more heated from there.

- Turns out, things between Sasha and Tim didn’t get magically better once Sasha was spat out the table at the start of s3

- and in fact Tim has been more distant and unsure of how to act around her, since even if she’s His Sasha, he has NO memories of her- just what Sasha says and vague half-recollections that he can’t tell if its something the Stranger put in him or if its the hazy remnants of this woman that he loved once. 

- Sasha finds herself being treated like a stranger by Tim, and while it’s not really bad per se- Tim isn’t cruel to people- it still Hurts when she tries to reach out to him, when it looks like he’s obviously hurting, and he just. Doesn’t Open Up. It doesn’t help that he can’t be in the same room as Jon for long and that he can’t look Martin in the eye, and it doesn’t help that it’s only after Literally Threatening To Leave that Jon cracks and admits everything that happened in s2

- The day of the contest is getting nearer. Martin is suddenly very suspiciously good at the violin despite never having lessons growing up, which he jokes is a “natural affinity for strings”. He’s been on the phone a suspicious amount.

- The day before the contest and tensions are high in the Archives. Jon’s locked himself in his office to do “vocal exercises”. Martin hums everywhere. Tim and Sasha are coordinating on The Bifrost Incident, but Tim keeps it strictly professional and terse, and it’s slowly driving Sasha up the wall.

- Finally, Tim says, “During this... we won’t hurt each other, right? While we’re in there- we can keep our heads on straight.”

- “Of course not.” Sasha replies, immediate. “You’d never hurt me.”

- “... Right.”

- The day arrives and it’s revealed that Jon, Martin, Sasha, and Tim are the Only combatants. It was Grifter’s game to get them to fight each other the entire time, in a strictly organized battle-like way. Not!Sasha gets a pass as Sasha’s “pet” and Sasha very quickly steps on its foot to keep it from saying anything that might disqualify them.

- Listen the actual battle itself ? Is messy as fuck to figure out. like we never actually properly figured out the rules. we have a spreadsheet of like which number placement every song in all 4 albums were and everything and while some combinations would’ve made for some SICK turn based combat would’ve been an absolute Nightmare to actually carry out

- each song actually has an effect and transforms both the stage and audience as the show goes on- so there’s a bit where Jon has The Hanged Man Rusts and that garners complete silence as it accidentally prophesies the rest of the story, Thor causes Sasha to actually begin to spark with lightning, cool stuff

- the only truly comprehensible bit was round 4. Hellfire, Sirens, Cinders’ Song, and Sigyn.

- Hellfire sees Jon give into the Slaughter energy more than any other point as the entire audience starts fighting each other in religious ecstasy, the other stages where the assistants are isolated beginning the melt and warp. Sasha helps Tim back up just before he slips into the flame below and Martin tries to climb higher as the hands of congregation reach for him, or past him, or to grab Anything

- Sirens cuts through the last bit before it all goes truly to hell as Tim picks up a guitar and starts lulling everything down to a sense of normalcy. There’s a moment, at the intersection of when Jon stops trying to scream the last dying cry of Gallahad’s maddened ramblings and the audience returning to their seats and his voice acapella filling the hall- we can chase away your worries- where there is Perfect Clarity. Tim could stop after this moment. Before the end of the verse, he could stop, and maybe it’d put an end to this.

- His eyes land on Sasha. Before he can stop himself, the verse is finished. Sleep in peace and serenity. Then he can’t stop singing anymore, and Sasha watches the drowsy smile suddenly bloom across Tim’s cheeks

- It’s when Martin, never once looking in Jon’s direction, jumps from his platform to Tim’s that Sasha knows something’s wrong. Because she wants to do the same thing. So she takes a page out of the real Ulysses’ playbook- she has the Not!Them tie her to one of the beams on her stage and promise, no matter what she says next, to never untie her. Not until someone else starts singing

- Just as Sasha predicted, she starts getting odd herself. Tim is looking in her direction, so longingly as he sings that she Knows it could only really be for Her, that he wants her to just lay in his embrace and be well taken care of- and she stops wanting anything beyond it. So she struggles. She hisses and bites and kicks and screams to try and break free of the rope while Tim smiles, beckoning, so they can finally have that reunion they’ve both wanted. The one where they hold each other and say that it’s okay, that they have each other, that it’s Safe

- Someone unties Sasha. It feels like Tim’s arms around her and she melts, no longer recognizing the pretty man singing on stage. Not!Tim looks back at Tim from across the gap, holding Sasha tenderly, and grins. Tim stops singing, for just a moment, surrounded by legions except for the sole person he wants to see most in the world, in  the arms of something that doesn’t even look remotely like him

- The moment’s enough and, as Martin sees Jon looking strangely adoringly at Tim, he realizes that wait a fucking minute. And immediately gets so jealous he hijacks Tim’s spotlight and restores actual equilibrium with Cinders’ Song. Tim is once again left alone on stage, strangely desolate against the large setting.

- Sasha regains her balance and tries to answer it all with Sigyn, but the Not!Them refuses to stop looking like a mockery of Tim. Jon is kind enough to take Lyf’s narration while Not!Tim is “kind” enough to take Loki’s lines. Sasha tries to appeal- why back away? This time I’ll stay; come stand at my side as we make them pay... 

- When she sings “remember your wife!” Not!Tim says, “I don’t recall,” playfully, mocking. He mocks when he says “She’s still enthralled,” one part disgust for Sasha’s feelings and one part gleeful accusation to Tim- look what you did to her. She still feels the effect of your song, even now.

- anyway long story short everything gets more and more screwy as everyone is magically made to forget that they’re supposed to be stopping this thing and start only wanting to be the one to get to their finale quickest. Blood and Whiskey sees Sasha nearly lose an ear from a bullet. Underworld Blues has Tim nearly causing hell to freeze over with his chilling plea as Orpheus. No Happy Ending signals the first of the audience member deaths.

- It also signals when Grifter leaves weapons on the stage and has the team go at it. It’s not really so bad, at first- Jon and Martin forget about fighting somewhere along the way and kiss, Sasha is knocked out for a few seconds and is somewhat conscious, which is Not a good state to enter Red Signal in, and Tim is trying desperately to figure out where to go next

- Tim has Ties That Bind as a last attempt to gain control of the situation and very nearly manages to snap Sasha out of the absolute maddened hell state she’s about the enter. If only he could find it in himself to omit some lyrics- if only he could find it in himself to be less bitter when singing I was betrayed by the one I was to wed.

- There was no more love there - my heartstrings long since cut...

-There was no more love there.

- “Ah.” Is Sasha’s last coherent thought, “I see.”

- “So that’s how it is.”

- Martin’s mic cuts out. Jon’s mic cuts out. Tim’s mic cuts out on the last line.

- Sasha picks herself off the ground, slowly. Far more slowly than the words falling out of her mouth. Not words- an incantation. A Chant.

- y’ai ngah Yog-Sothoth...

- turns out Jon’s not the only one who can do a mean incantation. And unlike Jon, Sasha’s had some vocal training at some point in heavy metal. Make of that what you will

- The guitars kick in at the end to dive straight into Ragnarok I and Alfred Grifter announces that the winner is Sasha James amidst the screaming and destruction of the roof caving in reverse, showing a blood red sky. The Not!Them has disappeared, presumably already running into the faceless crowd to find a new body for the incoming new world Jon’s trying to get to safety and Martin’s begging Tim to hide, that there’s not gonna be getting through to Sasha now

- But Tim knows the album because he worked with her on this. For this scenario. Just in case. He knows it’s safe enough to move when Sasha-as-Sigyn questions I know this man, why is he here...? Knows to hold still, make himself as small as possible, when she begins Ragnarok II. The crowd isn’t so lucky and they melt into each other, a mosh pit of rock n roll violence that flashes and gleams with pocket knife and piercing and heels and nails. Just barely manages to make a run for it as Sasha takes on the final lines as the Void.

- Envy your dead for now unfurled / this madness follows to consume / your world. 

- Tim is just close enough in ear shot to yell, not even attempting to sing at this point with a throat as dry as his is, “You- don’t I know you?” The world tries to skip Ragnarok III to get to IV. Tim tries to be louder even with the rubble giving way under his hands, “Weren’t we friends?”

- The gentle piano kicks in instead. Tim could nearly cry with relief when Sasha turns his way and, even if she doesn’t look like she fully gets it yet, answers, “Once- I remember. And now, when it ends...”

- In harmony. The first they’ve managed in a long while. Where are you going?

- “For vengeance...?” Sasha left uncertain. Answered in a songbird lilting voice, “For love.”

- There is no mention of death. Only an immediate harmony as they both sing Perhaps that’s enough!

- The guitar that comes on isn’t the end of Ragnarok III. It’s the lonely riff of Thor as Sasha hauls herself up with a drum mallet she steals from the broken down remains of backstage. Sung, almost like a tune a soldier marches to, fury like thunderbolts burns in my veins...

- She smashes Grifter over the head and feeds him into the mosh pit to be torn to shreds. As his shriek of laughter echoes off of the walls, she takes the mallet to the lonely speaker at the back of the hall, playing the final riffs, and destroys it.

- The world stops ending. Everyone is left in the wreckage, passed out and bloody. Jon pokes his head out from a trap door in the ground. Martin mutters from offstage somewhere. Sasha is heaving out breaths as she stares at the broken equipment, still clutching the hammer she threw in the works.

- Cue the moment where she finally turns to face Tim. They look at each other. Then, they’re grinning, and they’re starting to run. They end up toppling onto the ground together, laughing with wild relief, arms tight around each other the entire way through as Tim’s the first one to let loose the first catharsis tears.

- Tim tells her that was the coolest damn thing he ever did see. Sasha says she’s sorry for almost ending the world to have him see that, and Tim’s just going are you kidding ??? This was the best way this could have ended up!

- And Sasha says that it wouldn’t have happened if not for Tim stepping in like he did. And Tim says he’s sorry too, for everything. For the way he acted, and Sasha says that none of them were in their right minds, but Tim still insists that being in right mind or Not, he made some shitty choices there-

- and of course Sasha kisses him. Tells him he was simply brilliant. And Tim grins and kisses her and tells her that no no no SHE was absolutely brilliant, she had TRUE star power-

- and it’s not like before. Tim still can’t remember everything, and the memories Sasha has of the Archives before the Not!Them leave a sour taste in her mouth after she’s released. Tim is gonna need a long time before he can really go back to being his cheerful self, and Sasha needs time to come to terms with missing so much of her own life. But 

- But at least they can lay together at night and find a little peace and serenity in the interim.

[my-major-is-k-howard]

She

Inspired by “She” by dodie. I’m back with Part 3! Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story so far. You all mean the world to me and I cherish each and every one of you SO MUCH. ❤️ I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2535

Part 1 Part 2

————————————————————

Part 3

Cathy spent the next few hours reading from her new book. She had planned on finishing the book that day but her mind kept drifting off to a certain green-eyed queen. By the time Cathy reached the middle of the book, she could no longer focus on the words on the page. The events of earlier that day still nagged in the back of her head, making the simple act of reading nearly impossible.

Cathy let out a breath and closed the book. Maybe Anne would like some company if she wasn’t busy. Cathy could tell her about The Picture of Dorian Gray, or at least the parts she remembered when she wasn’t distracted. She should also thank Anne again for the photo booth pictures and let her know that she was putting them to good use. Cathy smiled at the thought and resolved to go look for Anne.

As Cathy opened the door of her bedroom, she was greeted by the sounds of video games coming from the living room. She followed the sound of gunshots and zombies, hoping that Anne would be down there and she could watch whatever gruesome game she was playing. Cathy wasn’t a huge fan of gore but she was willing to put her bias aside to spend time with Anne.

When Cathy walked into the living room, she narrowed her eyes in confusion when she saw that it was Cleves who was playing the video game of mass murder instead of Anne. Cathy jumped slightly as Cleves let out a shout of victory before she looked over to where Cathy was standing off to the side.

“Hey, Cathy. Do you want to join me?” Cleves asked sarcastically.

Cathy gave her a horrified expression which caused Cleves to start laughing. “Absolutely not! You know I despise violent video games.”

“Did you need something from me?” Cleves asked when her laughter subsided.

“Umm… have you seen Anne? I thought she might be playing with you,” Cathy mumbled, suddenly becoming quite embarrassed to admit that she was looking for Anne.

Cleves smirked at Cathy’s sudden change in demeanor. “I think she’s in her room. But be careful. She might be attempting a séance again.”

“She’d better not be,” Cathy muttered. “Thanks, Cleves.” Cleves nodded and resumed her game as Cathy made her way back up the stairs. 

Cathy began walking down the hall when she heard voices coming from Anne’s room. Cathy hesitated at the door of Anne’s bedroom, not wanting to interrupt an important conversation, until she heard one of the voices say something that caught her interest. 

“- TOTALLY likes you back!” Cathy heard Kitty say excitedly. Of course, Cathy knew it was impolite to eavesdrop but she couldn’t help it. She pressed her ear closer to Anne’s door. Did Anne like somebody?

“Kitty, keep your voice down!” Anne whisper-yelled to her cousin. 

“Sorry! But, Anne, she totally likes you back,” Kitty whispered back. “I mean, have you seen the way she looks at you?”

“Kitty, I’ve tried literally everything to tell her how I feel except saying it directly to her face,” Anne huffed. “Either she’s completely oblivious or she just doesn’t like me like that. And, I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.”

“Anne, listen to me. Even if you don’t believe that she has feelings for you, which she definitely does for the record, would you rather tell her how you feel and have a shot at an actual relationship or spend the rest of your life wondering what could’ve happened with the girl you love?” Kitty ranted.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, Kitty!” Anne exclaimed. “If I say something and she doesn’t feel the same, I will lose the most valuable friendship I have in my life. I… I can’t risk that!” Anne began sniffling as the sound of quiet sobs grew louder.

“Annie… come here,” Kitty whispered softly. The sound of Anne’s bed creaking suggested that Kitty was now holding her older cousin.

“Kitty, the truth is… I do want to tell her. I want to tell her that I love her smile and her laugh. That I always look forward to spending time with her. That when she says my name my heart skips a beat. That she means everything to me.” Anne took a deep breath. “But, I’m so scared. First, that she’ll reject me and our friendship will be awkward after that but also if she does like me back and I just end up disappointing her. What would I do then?”

“Anne, you’re not going to disappoint her, I promise. She adores you! She laughs at all your jokes, even if the rest of us think they’re bad. She always takes your side when Aragon gets mad at you. She even takes breaks from her reading just to spend time with you. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is,” Kitty answered.

“Okay… you’re right. But, I don’t know how to tell her,” Anne sighed.

“Don’t worry! I’ll help you,” Kitty piped up. 

“You promise?” Anne asked.

“I promise!” Kitty squealed. “Everything is going to be perfect!”

Cathy swallowed the lump that was building up in her throat as she felt her stomach drop to the floor. Anne liked someone. Anne liked someone and it wasn’t Cathy.       

Cathy choked back a sob as she rushed back to her room. As soon as Cathy closed the door, she felt hot tears beginning to stream down her face. She didn’t try to fight her emotions or bottle up her feelings. It was too late for that anyway. 

Cathy sat on her bed, brought her knees to her chest, and buried her face in the pillow she had grabbed in an attempt to muffle the sound of her crying. She didn’t want the other queens to hear her and worry about what had happened. More than anything, she didn’t want them to ask what was wrong. Cathy wouldn’t know what to say.

 Cathy reprimanded herself for getting her hopes up. Anne didn’t have feelings for her and she would never have feelings for her. She shook her head in disbelief that she ever had any inkling of hope that Anne would return her affection. 

No, Anne’s affection was elsewhere, with the mystery girl that she and Kitty were talking about. The one that was beautiful, charming, elegant, sweet, smart, funny, kind. Everything that Cathy wished she was. How could she ever compare?

And Anne was planning on pursuing her. Cathy’s heart ached at the thought. She would have to endure watching Anne fall in love with someone else, while Cathy inevitably fell in love with Anne in secret. She would have to watch Anne hold hands and link arms with someone else. She would have to watch Anne smile and laugh with someone else. She would have to watch Anne kiss someone else the way she desperately craved for Anne to kiss her. Cathy felt her heart twist violently at her self-inflicted thoughts of agony. 

There was one silver lining in all of the pain, however. Anne would be happy. Anne would finally have someone that she could depend on. She would have someone that she could let her guard down around and not constantly fear the pain of rejection. She wouldn’t have to mask her feelings with humor anymore. Cathy smiled for the first time since overhearing Anne’s conversation. Anne deserved to be happy and Cathy wouldn’t get in the way of that happiness.

Cathy’s heart still ached knowing that Anne was falling for someone else but she held no resentment for the mystery girl. Anne had a chance to be happy and Cathy loved her too much to risk jeopardizing that with her own feelings. 

Cathy let out a loud sigh and began wiping away the tear stains on her face. She didn’t want to go to the hall bathroom to clean herself up and risk any of the other queens seeing her like this, especially not Anne. So instead, Cathy used the sleeves of her shirt to wipe the tears from her eyes. Cathy sniffled a little as she returned her pillow back to its place.

  Almost immediately after, Cathy heard a knock at her door. Her eyes widened in panic and she had to steel herself to keep her voice from cracking. “Yes?”

“It’s Jane, love. Can I come in?” Jane spoke loud enough so that Cathy could hear her through the door.

“Just a moment,” Cathy responded and gave one last attempt to clean the tear residue from her eyes and cheeks. She got up and opened the door to meet Jane’s concerned eyes. Cathy let Jane enter her room before closing the door once more.  

“Are you alright, love?” Jane asked quietly. “It sounded like you were crying.”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” Cathy lied. She flashed Jane a small smile in hopes that she would convince Jane that she was okay so she wouldn’t pry into why Cathy was crying.

Jane didn’t look convinced. “Did something happen?”

 Cathy looked down at the floor. She didn’t want to lie to Jane about what had happened but she couldn’t bring herself to tell her the truth either.

Jane took the silence as an answer. “Cathy, do you want to talk about it?”

Cathy shook her head profusely as she felt her tears return with a vengeance. Before she could process what was going on, tears were steadily flowing down her cheeks and sobs were racking her body. Cathy tried to turn away from Jane to hide her tears but Jane didn’t let her. Instead, Jane wrapped her arms around the fragile girl and held her as she cried.

Cathy immediately sank into Jane as the older woman stroked her hair in an effort to calm her down. After a few minutes, Cathy’s sobs subsided and were replaced with whimpers and the occasional hiccup. The two queens had migrated to Cathy’s bed where Jane was slowly releasing her grip on Cathy. 

Cathy parted from Jane and looked up to meet the warmth in her eyes. Jane stroked Cathy’s back soothingly before breaking the silence. “I’m not going to ask what happened. You’re clearly not ready to talk about it.” Cathy dropped Jane’s gaze and swallowed. “But, when you are, I am more than willing to listen. Okay, love?”

Cathy nodded. “Thank you, Jane.”

“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll go bring you some tissues. I’ll be right back.” Jane left Cathy’s room for a few moments before returning with a tissue box. Cathy accepted them gratefully and began blowing her nose and wiping her eyes.

Jane stayed with Cathy for a few more minutes before excusing herself. “Cathy, I’m going to start making dinner now. Are you okay by yourself?”

“Yeah. I’ll be okay,” Cathy responded. “Thank you, Jane. It means a lot to me.”

“I’m here for you, Cathy, and I know the other queens would agree as well. We love you.”

Cathy nodded gratefully. “And I love all of you too.” Jane smiled before getting up and exiting the room. 

When Jane closed her door, Cathy muttered under her breath, “That’s kind of the problem though. I love Anne.” Cathy shook her head at those words.

Even though Cathy felt like she had no more tears left to cry, she still felt all of her emotions stirring within her once more. Cathy heaved one last sigh before walking over to her desk. She reached into the drawer and pulled out her journal. Hopefully writing would give her some peace of mind.

Cathy opened her journal and instantly regretted her decision when she saw the images of her and Anne from the photo booth staring right back at her. Cathy picked up the bookmark of heartbreak and turned it face down on her desk. She reached over and picked up her pen from its resting place before putting her thoughts to paper.

Nobody told me that Cupid was both an archer and an assassin. When I was struck by his arrow, the tip pierced my heart and my love for Anne only grew from that moment on, blossoming from admiration into infatuation. But how cruel and double minded he can be! His aim when he struck Anne was a dagger in my heart. The backstabbing fiend promised me love, omitting the word “unrequited” in premeditated deceit. How could I have been such a fool?! 

Anne, my sweet Anne, has blossomed feelings for another. Against my better judgment, I eavesdropped on her conversation with Kitty, only to overhear the earth-shattering revelation of her undying love for someone else. Oh, how I wish I could have frozen time forever in that photo booth and not only in a photograph. Then, I could live in that blissful state of mind where I was Anne’s sole affection and I didn’t have to vie for her love. I lament my foolish actions.

 Even though this pain feels like my chest was ripped open and my heart was crushed in hand, I can’t imagine my life without Anne in it. I still love her, even if the circumstances have changed out of my favor. My love for her may be selfish but it’s what sustains me. It fills me with warmth on the coldest days and brightens my life when everything before was dull and dark. It may hurt to think about the reality of this situation but I can still build a whole world of possibilities inside of my mind about her. Thoughts of her still make my heart jump and bring a smile to my face. The pain reminds me of how much I love her and that makes the pain all the more bearable. It’s a strange feeling.

I can’t give her up. I just can’t. I won’t! So, I’ll stay quiet. I’ll keep my confessions limited to the whispers in my dreams. No one will hear them and no one will know. My secrets will stay on these pages so Anne can finally find the happiness she deserves with the person she loves. I wish her all the best even though it shatters me inside to know she found everything she wants with someone else. It’s a bitter paradox because she means everything to me.

Cathy signed her name messily at the end before dropping her pen back on her desk and drew a shaky breath. Her feelings were contradicting themselves, making it hard to verbalize efficiently exactly what she was feeling. Writing it out definitely helped clear her head though. She knew she would get through pain eventually but it still hurt deeply to think about. The wounds were still fresh. 

Carefully, Cathy picked up her photo booth bookmark and turned it right side up. She smiled sadly at the memories they pictured, images of blissful hope that were shattered by the harshness of reality. Cathy placed the bookmark in her journal and shut it slowly. She slipped the leather-bound journal back in its drawer before closing it and moving back to her bed. Maybe she could get her mind off of reality by delving back into the imaginary world that Oscar Wilde painted in The Picture of Dorian Gray.

[ificanthaveu]

Trust Issues || Shawn Mendes

Description: You and Shawn bond over your shared trust issues, telling each other where they came from. Something you haven’t done in years.

A/N: half of the reader’s problems are literally what I went through, so yay for trust issues!!! I had a lil daydream about this the other day, and it actually turned out pretty cute. 

Word Count: 3k

A soft knock on your door pulled you out of your trance as you stared at your laptop. You blinked the tiredness out of your eyes and checked the time. It was just after 1:00 pm, and you’d been working for over four hours already. You sighed and stood up from your desk and workspace in the corner of your living room to go answer the door. You peered through the peephole to see your neighbor Shawn waiting there. You knew what was coming.

You swung the door open, and you were met with his cheerful face and two cups of coffee.

“Good afternoon, Ms. [Y/L/N],” he said with a big smile. You definitely didn’t have the same expression.

“What do you want?” You said in a monotone voice.

“You wanna go for a walk?” He asked hopefully.

“Shawn, I have a stack of work I haven’t even gotten to yet that has to be done before midnight,” you said as you leaned against the doorway, eyeing the cup of coffee in his hand. It was an iced latte. Your favorite.

“But I know you need a lunch break,” he paused and held up your drink. “And I got you coffee. So we’re going to go on a walk to clear your head and to recaffeinate yourself.”

You thought about it for a moment as you continued to stare at the drink in his hand. You could easily grab the cup out of his hand and shut the door on him.

Before you could even entertain the idea, he had your cup held over his head.

“Not happening. You’re not getting this until we’re out of the building,” he said with a sly smile. 

“Fine,” you grumbled with an eye roll as you grabbed your coat from the hook next to the door, stepped into the hallway and locked your door behind you. 

“So what do you all have to do still?” He asked as you stepped into the elevator. 

“I thought we weren’t talking about work.”

“We won’t after this one question.”

“I have a play manuscript and half a novel to read still. I’ll be lucky if I send it in before midnight,” you said as the elevator stopped at the ground floor and you walked out. 

You exited the building and were met with the cool, fall Toronto air. As promised, Shawn handed you your drink as you turned to your left and began to walk towards the park.

“What are you doing today?” You asked him as you took a sip out of your coffee.

“Nothing. I had a melody stuck in my head for a while that I might try to get a song out of later, but the more I work at it, the less promising it gets,” he said as he took a drink out of his black coffee.

You walked in silence for a few moments as you both drank your coffees. As you stepped into the park, you took a deep breath and smiled. The smell of autumn air was your favorite.

“Alright, Mendes, what’s today’s walk topic?” You asked as you started down your usual trail. 

Shawn was one of the first people to come introduce himself when you moved into your condo almost a year and a half ago. He offered to show you around the neighborhood, and you gladly accepted. Ever since then, the two of you took to a walk in the park down the street at least twice a week. On bad weeks where you had a ton of work or he was swamped with rehearsals and meetings, you made it a point to walk every day to make sure you got your mind off things. But work had its way of making the whole conversation about itself, so you and Shawn started coming up with topics to center your walks around. Whether it be friendships or why you love your hometown or favorite vacations, you always kept your conversations on track.

“Trust issues,” he said plainly without looking at you.

“Ah yes, the perfect light-hearted topic to distract us from work, our trust issues,” you said sarcastically. 

“Well, you obviously have a lot of them. And I have some, too. So, today, I’m determined to find out why you have them,” he said as he glanced over at you.

“It’s a long story. Also, me telling you all that, would show that I don’t actually have trust issues since I’d be trusting you with why I may or may not have trust issues,” you reasoned. 

Shawn gave you a confused look as you tried to rationalize you not saying anything.

It was nothing against Shawn. The two of you had grown to become pretty close within the last year, but when it came to the deep stuff that barely anyone knew, you hesitated to tell him You hesitated to tell anyone. 

“We’ve been friends and neighbors for over a year now, and you do a remarkable job of not telling me anything remotely secretive about you. Most I know about the traumatic stuff is that you met your best friend because of it. But I don’t know what that ‘it’ is. And I think you should tell me. But that’s up to you and I have a backup topic if you don’t want to fight that battle today. That being said, I will bring this up every walk for the rest of our lives until you open up to me,” he said as you two stopped for a moment in front of the creek. 

You stared at the ripples in the pond caused by a little boy throwing pebbles to your right. 

“It all started in third grade,” you said, maybe a little too dramatically. 

“Beautiful,” he said, a little too happily. You gave him a look. “Not the trust issues, you opening up to me,” he saved himself.

You started walking along the creek as you began again. You ran the story in your head a few times and cringed at the worst parts. You shoved your hands in your coat pockets as far as they could go. 

“Third grade is when I fell in love with writing. I found it so remarkable that I could write my daydreams onto paper. I became absolutely obsessed with it. It’s really what carried me through everything. It’s what brought me to what I’m doing,” you said softly. You loved talking about your job. It was stressful, but it was your dream job. Since third-grade grammar lessons where you corrected your classmates' papers, you knew editing was going to be just for you.

“I don’t know how you do it. I can barely correct my own writing. And that’s never more than a page,” Shawn said.

“Third grade was also when my anxiety started to kick in,” you continued. “Third graders don’t understand that stuff very well,” you said.

“Like you didn’t understand it? Or your classmates?” He questioned. You shrugged your shoulders.

“Both? I guess. I would get frustrated, like why is this happening to me? Why can’t I go to sleepovers at a friend’s house without freaking out? Why do I feel nervous when literally nothing is going on? What’s this constant pressure in my chest? And then, on top of that, my friends never understood, and I lost a lot of people,” you said as you ran your hands up and down your cup. 

“Is this when you met Bea?” He asked hopefully. 

You laughed and shook your head. 

“I didn’t meet her until junior year of high school. We have a beautiful roller coaster of events that happen before that,” you said.

“Damn,” he mumbled.

“Anyway,” you continued. “I remember being in the lunchroom. I was sitting at one of the tables with my neighbor. I went to throw something away, and on my way back to my spot, I heard one of my other friends talking about me. She was telling a whole lunch table about the weekend before when I left her house crying. I was quick to stop as she noticed I was there. I remember looking at her and saying ‘You don’t understand what I’m going through,’” you recalled.

“You called her out?” He said excitedly. “Is this when your badass side was born? Because of some asshole third grader telling everyone your problems?” 

“Exactly. Look at you, learning so much already,” you said as you rested your hand on his shoulder. 

“Amazing.”

“I look back at it, and she was always kind of an asshole. Her family was cool though. Her older brother still comments on all my facebook posts, but I haven’t really talked to her since middle school,” you said.

“So, after that I kind of shifted friend groups. I started stuffing all my feelings down instead of saying anything. But then I got comfortable and started opening up to these people. It was seventh grade. We were all at our one friend’s house and talking about anything and everything. And I told them about the guy I had a crush on.”

“Oh, God, I definitely know where this is going,” he said with a disgusted look on his face.

“Yep, they told him. Everyone found out, and I was humiliated. No one ever really said anything to me except for little comments here and there.”

“They knew not to mess with you because of your badass side,” Shawn added.

“Exactly. But that’s how I became friends with Andy. He was friends with the guy I liked, and he always called people out if they said anything. Besides Bea, he’s the one who knows everything because he lived it with me. I’d be dead without him,” you reminisced.

“I want to meet him. He’s in the army, right?” Shawn asked. You nodded your head and tried to hide your shocked expression. You didn’t think he’d remember. 

“Yeah, he actually just got home a month ago. He’s visiting me next week,” you said with a big smile on your face.

“Will he join us for a walk?” Shawn asked. You shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m sure he will. He’ll want to be shown around, and you do it best,” you said as you bumped your shoulder against his. 

“Ok, ok, back to the story,” Shawn caught you sidetracking, and urged you to continue. 

“After that, I kind of coasted through the rest of middle school. I tried to stay open and friends with everyone without actually letting people in. It ended up working out pretty well. And then high school came,” you paused and took a drink.

“The suspense is killing me,” Shawn whispered. You rolled your eyes at him before continuing.

“I met some new friends. I met a guy. His name was James. He asked me to homecoming. Everything was perfect. I had a nice new group of friends and a guy who was head over heels for me. I really thought I had finally found my place. I had never been more wrong in my life. He kissed me that night. Then proceeded to text my friends that I was a bad kisser and that he planned on not really talking to me anymore. They thought it was hilarious,” you grimaced at the memories of your early high school years. 

“Is this the James you were trying to avoid when we were out a few months ago?” He asked.

You nodded your head, “you bet. He’s not doing too well recently. Just lost his job because he was stealing from the company.”

“Serves him right,” Shawn mumbled.

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed. “But during that time, I had one friend in another friend group. She helped me through all of it. She was the one who listened to me crying in the middle of the night and responded to my depressing texts in the middle of the day. She introduced me to her friends, and it was all perfect. That friend group felt like home to me,” you paused.

“Or so you thought?” Shawn added.

“Or so I thought, exactly. She was my best friend for three years. Three whole years. It was a new record. I met Bea somewhere in the middle of that when she transferred. It was because of Bea that I found out the truth about my supposed best friend. Since day one, she had been gossiping behind my back, telling lies about me and telling people my secrets,” you said quietly. Out of all the horrid memories, this one hurt the most.

“Oh my God,” Shawn whispered.

“Bea was the one who told me. I was having a hard time with this friend, and I spent the night at Bea’s after a football game once. She asked me a question about me and one of our guy friends having feelings for each other. When I looked at her like she was crazy, that’s when we started piecing together what was going on,” you explained. 

“Is that the end of it?” Shawn asked carefully. 

You shrugged your shoulders, “For the most part. There was some work drama, too, with my coworker telling people things I’d complain to her about, but the thing with my old best friend was the part that definitely broke me.”

“But you trust Bea?”

“Oh, totally, but there are things that I told my old friend that I still haven’t told her,” you said with hesitation.

“Really?” Shawn said, completely shocked. “But she’s your best friend.”

“It’s not that easy. It’s the heavy shit. The stuff that keeps me up at night. I know she’d understand and love me through it, but it’s the actual saying it part that I have such a hard time doing. Anxiety and trust issues don’t pair well together”

“Wow,” Shawn said before he paused for a moment, processing everything. “You had some asshole friends.”

“The beauty of private school,” you proclaimed. “So, what about your trust issues, huh?”

“I don’t have trust issues,” he said as he gave you a look.

“Oh, yeah, sure. The international superstar that gets every bit of his personal life leaked on to the internet doesn’t have trust issues. I’ll never, ever believe that,” you said. 

He shook his head with a small smile on his face.

“Alright, you got me,” he said. “But that’s also the whole story just in what you said. Everything I tell someone ends up in a tabloid. I have to be extremely careful about every damn thing I say. It gets twisted and turned into something it’s not.”

“But you tell me everything,” you pointed out as you stopped near the lookout. He turned and looked at you. He stuffed his hands in his denim jacket pockets, something he only did when he was nervous. 

“Because you have trust issues,” he said quietly. “I know you’d never tell anyone because you know exactly what it’s like to have it be told. People with trust issues keep secrets the best. I trust you.”

You paused for a moment and just stared at him. 

“I never thought of it that way,” you whispered after a while.

“It’s also more than that. You always seem insanely interested in everything I say. You get this look on your face,” he paused as he tried to imitate it, “when someone’s telling you a story. It’s cute.”

Your heart leaped as you turned to look at the view of the park from the top of the hill. He did the same. 

“I hadn’t told anyone that story since I told Bea,” you said quietly. “I promised myself that the moment I found someone that reminded me of home, reminded me of that feeling I get when I’m with my family or Bea or Andy, I would tell them.” You didn’t look at him. 

“I feel like home to you?” Shawn asked with a glint of hope in his voice. You could feel his eyes on you, but you still didn’t look at him. You just nodded your head. 

“I’ve never told anyone that,” you said before finally looking at him. The sun hit his face perfectly. He was radiating. 

Without saying anything more, he pulled you for a hug and held your head against his chest. You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head before resting his head on top of yours, looking at the fall colors and admiring the colors of change. 

You pulled away after a moment. “Ready to head home?” You asked as you rocked forward on your toes.

“But you’re home right now,” Shawn said with a stupid smile on his face. 

“Shut up,” you said as you hit his chest. He grabbed your hand before you could move it. You looked from your hand on his chest up to his face. 

Before you knew it, you were both leaning in. He pressed his lips to yours as you rested your other hand on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His lips were smooth, and his cold nose tickled your cheek. You could feel his curls as they lightly touched your forehead. You pulled away, and he rested his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” you finally said after a moment of silence. “That’s home.”

Shawn pulled you in for another kiss. You could feel him smile through it. 

“Ok, for real now, we’re going home. I have a manuscript yelling my name,” you whispered. He nodded his head and grabbed your hand as you made your way down the hill. 

“Can I take you out tonight?” He asked. “You know, on a date.”

“Unless that date is bringing me Chinese food and keeping me company while I edit, it’s going to have to be a no for tonight,” you said.

“Well, then it looks like I’m bringing you Chinese food tonight,” he said before looking down at you.

“For a superstar with trust issues, was kissing someone in the middle of the park the best idea,” you pointed out. 

“Nope, that was a horrible idea. One of my worst,” you said. You could feel his hand shake a little as you brought your other hand around to grip onto his arm and squeeze it. He looked down at you again and smiled. “Totally worth it.”

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[17piesinseptember]

“Is This A Dare?” | Part V + VI

A Zimbits College AU | part I | part II | part III  | part IV

Part V

It's not a long bus ride but without his phone or music it feels that way. Bitty taps his fingers against his lips, remembering leaving his phone number for Jack—a number that goes to a phone he doesn't have anymore and might not get back soon, if ever.

He should have left his email address instead. His personal one, not the uni provided one Jack probably has access to anyway.

Bitty groans aloud and crosses his arms. An email isn’t better. He shouldn’t have left anything. He rests his head against the window, not caring about the countless others who must have done the same before him, adding his own oily marks on the pane.

Stupid, he thinks to himself. What point is leaving contact information anyway. He and Jack aren’t friends and there’s no reason after last night for Jack to stay in contact with Bitty. He did his good deed. Bitty shouldn’t want to ask more from Jack after all that, especially after Jack’s speech about classroom hierarchy and relationships.

Bitty sighs and readjusts his forehead on the glass. It’s incredibly uncomfortable but he holds it for a moment so he can't confess to himself the real reason he gave Jack his number. (There’d been one moment picturing a hopeful vision of him and Jack in some fantastical future and it was so strong he’d turned and written his number of a bit of paper.)

Bitty groans and buries his face in his hands trying to force away his embarrassment. He spends so long with his head in his hands he misses his dorm by two stops and has to retrace his steps. He takes his time because he knows when he makes it to the dorm he'll have to face the reality of his situation. He'll need to replace his key, cancel his cards, hope and pray all his photos have been uploading to the cloud.

Thankfully, they keep the main dorm doors open during the day, so Bitty is able to get into the building and up to his room. His roommate lets him in when he knocks and Bitty feels a sliver of relief that he was in to do so. Bitty grabs fresh clothes from his dresser and his shower kit. He loses track of time as he washes, the hot water soothing some of the tension he's been carrying since last night.

Back in his room, feeling refreshed if not better, Bitty takes inventory. It turns into an incredibly long afternoon, equally as tiring as the other night. Bitty does every bit of tedious organising he can bear, thankful he'd left his laptop behind the other night and can do it all from the privacy of his room, where no one is around to see him swear and cry and punch his pillow in equal parts.

His new student card takes a day to make so he has 24 hours without access to the mess hall. (He says a quick thank you to Jack for his pancakes when he learns that.) He has a few tubs of yoghurt in his mini fridge and half a dozen eggs which he views as literal lifesavers because he hasn't figured out yet how he's going to pay for things without getting a new card or phone.

As Bitty sits on his bed eating a yoghurt, debating whether or not to message his parents, he finds himself looking forward to Monday. He hopes his classes can distract him, starting with his women and food class first thing in the morning. With Jack.

Part VI

Bitty wakes hungry to the tapping of his roommate on his door.

"Thanks," he grumbles, grateful his roommate agreed to be his alarm today until he figures out a better way to do it.

He can't get into the mess hall without his new card, so he grabs yet another yoghurt from the fridge and eats it in his bedroom while he packs a new bag for today, apologising to his mother’s voice in his head reminding him that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

For the first time ever, Bitty is the first one in the lecture theatre. Not even the teacher is there. He opens his laptop and refreshes his email, hoping to see one from student services saying his ID card is ready for collection. There's nothing there.

Bitty opens his notes for the class and surprises himself by becoming bored enough to read over them. Twitter felt wrong on his laptop.

Eventually, students start coming in. Bitty tries to tune out their conversations but it's more interesting than revision. He spends a few minutes scrolling sporadically to keep up appearances while eavesdropping on a conversation about a weekend trip one of the sport teams took. He's so engrossed he misses someone clearing their throat beside him, and it's not until that person leans over and puts their arm along the back of Bitty's chair that he shifts his attention.

Bitty lifts his head to see Jack looking at him. From very close up. This is probably the closest Bitty's ever seen him, closer than sitting beside each other in Jack’s car, and he can't help but notice Jack's eyes are incredibly blue.

"Can I see you after class?" Jack asks, keeping his voice low.

"Uh," Bitty flushes, having to try very consciously not to drop his eyes to Jack's lips. Or his jaw line. Or his shoulders. "Yes. Okay."

Jack's probably not intending his question and posturing to cause Bitty's abdomen to contract but it does anyway.

"Meet me down front after," Jack instructs, then continues down the stairs to his seat in the front row of the lecture theatre.

Jack doesn't look at him again during the lecture at all. Bitty tries not to look at Jack so frequently but can't help it because he keeps thinking about what Jack wants to see him about. He couldn't read enough in Jack's tone to know and doesn't know enough of him to guess. The closest he can manage is that Jack wants to talk to Bitty about him leaving his number. He’s not sure he’s up for sitting through Jack's "I don't date students" speech again.

By the end of the lecture, Bitty's notes are appalling and only fill half a page. Bitty tries to take his time packing up but without his normal bag with its extraneous content, he's done very quickly. He gets up and makes his way against the current of people down to the front where Jack's stacking sheets of paper together into a folder.

"Hi," Bitty announces his presence, sitting in the seat two along from Jack.

"Hey, Eric," Jack greets, closing the folder. "You got home alright yesterday then?"

Bitty nods. "Thanks for the bus money."

Jack smiles, gathering his bag and papers. "There's a class coming in here. Do you mind coming with me to the TA offices?"

"Oh. Ah, sure," Bitty says, standing up again and following Jack out of the lecture hall.

They pass a coffee cart on the way and Jack breaks the silence between them to offer to buy Bitty something.

"Do you want a coffee? Muffin?"

Bitty scoffs reflexivity at the offer of a baked good.

"I take that as a no?" Jack asks.

Bitty clears his throat. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—It's just the muffins aren't—But yes. That's a no. Thanks, though."

Bitty has never been to the TA offices. He assumed Jack would share a room with Professor Atley, but if turns out he’s in a larger communal office area with several desks spread around the walls.

"There's eight of us in here," Jack tells Bitty as he leads him around a large table in the middle of the room toward a desk in the back left corner. Jack sits down at his desk and puts his bag under the table beside a filing cabinet.

"That seat's free." Jack gestures behind Bitty to the neighbouring desk. Bitty wheels the chair over and sits, keeping his bag on his lap so he has something to do with his hands.

There's a meticulously organised bookshelf behind Jack's desk that gives them a small bit of privacy from the other two TAs currently in the room. Jack keeps his voice soft as well when he speaks, though Bitty is beginning to understand that's just how he is.

"Sorry for dragging you here," Jack starts. "I thought it would be better not to do it in front of the class."

Bitty does not like that as an opening sentence. He didn't really think Jack was going to reprimand him again for the contents of his note, but maybe Bitty's life is just that way now. One bad, uncomfortable thing after the other.

Bitty swallows and twists the strap of his bag around his hands. He tries to keep his breathing as even as possible but when he concentrates on doing so, he only seems to achieve the exact opposite.

Jack reaches to the bookshelf and pulls out a tin container covered with Van Gogh prints. Bitty's forehead furrows as he watches Jack pull a small ring of keys out and turn to the filing cabinet beneath his desk. He unlocks the largest draw. Bitty bites his lip.

"I hope you don't mind that I've kept them in here," Jack tells Bitty. "I don't think it's the conventional way this is done but I, er, didn't think about it when they called me."

Jack's back is to him, blocking Bitty's view of what's in the filing cabinet. When he finally spins around, Bitty's eyes drop to his lap and his lips part. "That's…"

"Yours," Jack finishes for him, hands around a brown leather satchel bag. "I checked when I went to collect it."

Bitty presses his lips together and goes back to focusing on his breathing.

"Sorry," Jack apologises. "I should have contacted you first. I actually… Well. I did, but then I realised." Jack pushes a hand through his hair. "You'll have a text from me. I didn't realise until after I sent it how stupid that was."

Bitty shakes his head. "Not stupid."

"I knew I was going to see you this morning, so at that stage I didn't bother emailing."

Bitty's eyes are still on Jack's lap. He reaches out—his hand unsteady—and Jack passes the bag across to him. His bag. The one he lost two nights ago.

"Is it-" Bitty clears his throat. He looks up at Jack, not sure which emotion his face is choosing to display; his weariness, relief, worry, gratitude.

Bitty takes a deep breath. "Is it just the bag?"

"Wallet and phone in there too."

Bitty exhales roughly. All that time wasted on the weekend sorting everything out and he doesn't even care. He's holding his bag.

He flips it open and looks through. Notebooks, pencil case, earphones, lip balm, even the plastic wrapped cookies he'd packed as a snack. He pulls his wallet out and opens it. By some miracle, all his cards are in there, from his credit card to his old library card. There's no cash but he didn't think he'd had any in there anyway.

"I'll go, er, make some tea," Jack says quietly, standing up and edging past Bitty.

"You don't have to," Bitty tells him but he takes too long to voice it, still pulling cards in and out of his wallet, and Jack's long gone.

Bitty's phone is dead but it's definitely his. Beyonce lyrics on the case and the crack on the screen across the bottom right corner. There's a phone charger plugged into the wall at Jack's desk. The connection is wrong for Bitty's phone but he keeps one in his bag which is also still in its usual pocket. He gets it out and switches the cords, hoping Jack won't mind.

Jack's still in the kitchenette so Bitty looks around his desk, waiting for his phone to have enough charge to turn on. The desk itself is mostly empty, with a whiteboard against the side wall filled with notes and print outs of timetables, and a tray filled with essays on the other side. The bookshelf shows more personality, with a few succulents on display among the alphabetically ordered books.

There's two framed photographs on the second top shelf which Bitty stands to get a better look at. He recognises where the first is taken because he was in Jack's house just the other night. Jack isn't in the picture himself, but the TV set up and couches are an exact match. Three men and a woman sit crammed on the couch that faces the TV, all craning their necks to look at the camera. There’s a video game paused on the TV but Bitty can’t tell which. The second photo is Jack and another man—one from the first photo, with the moustache—in graduation robes on the Samwell green, holding diplomas.

"That was my graduation for my undergraduate degree."

Bitty turns. Jack's holding two mugs of tea. Bitty maneuvers around him in the small space between Jack's desk and the bookshelf, sitting back on the spare seat.

"Milk?" Jack guesses, putting one down closer to Bitty and keeping the black tea for himself.

"Thanks, Jack." Bitty pulls the mug closer to him. "You really didn't have to."

"It wasn't a problem." Jack smiles at Bitty. "So was everything there?" Jack asks, nodding to the bag.

"Yes, yes it was." Bitty throws an arm over the bag in his lap and pulls it tighter against his body.

"I'm glad." The way Jack smiles at Bitty makes his heart flip over.

"Me too. I feel like I owe you a million thank yous for getting it,” Bitty tells Jack earnestly. “I mean, it's crazy. Like a miracle. I really didn't think I was going to see it again."

"I didn't do anything," Jack flushes, looking down at his mug and taking a sip.

"You have to have done something. Otherwise this wouldn't be here."

Jack’s fingers shift around his mug. "All I did was leave my number with the police station when I picked you up,” he rushes like it’s no big deal, spinning his chair slightly so he’s not facing Bitty front on. “I knew you didn't have your things. I said if they turned up they should call me."

Bitty watches Jack put his tea on the desk and run his thumb up and down it’s side.

“Well, it was something to me,” Bitty says softly.

Jack lifts his head briefly to look at Bitty. Bitty’s heart does its little flip up and over again.

"Okay then,” Bitty says cheerily, trying to move on from the overly sentimental moment. He doesn’t want to make Jack uncomfortable by pushing any hint of feelings toward him.

“Not a million thank yous,” Bitty continues, sitting up in his chair. “What about one pie?"

Jack blinks. "Oh."

"That's means you're thinking about it, right?” Bitty smiles. He’s missed Jack’s ‘oh’. “Thinking about saying yes?"

Jack shakes his head, spinning his chair back to face Bitty. “I was thinking that I remember the pie you brought in when you bribed your way into the course.”

Bitty flushes at the accusation and the way Jack’s mouth lifts up in one corner like he’s teasing him.

Bitty raises his mug in front of his face, trying to hide his heated cheeks. “I wouldn’t call it bribing,” he says sheepishly.

Jack laughs. “Oh, it didn’t bother me.”

Bitty raises his eyebrows at Jack.

“No, I mean—Obviously bribery isn’t something I’m condoning.” Bitty bites his lip as Jack flusters trying to explain. “I just meant it was a really good pie.”

Bitty nods, trying not to laugh at Jack’s expression.

“That came out wrong,” Jack says, shaking his head.

“So, that’s a yes to a thank you pie?” Bitty asks instead of teasing Jack more about it.

Bitty doesn’t wait for Jack’s ‘yes’, already set on making him one from back when Jack first collected him from the station. “What’s your favourite pie?”

“Oh.”

Bitty can’t help but smile at the sound.

“I’ve never thought about it,” Jack frowns. “I’m sure anything you make will be good.”

Bitty didn’t think his cheeks could get any warmer, but at Jack’s quiet compliment his body proves him wrong. “Okay. A surprise pie then. I promise it’ll be good.”

“I never said yes to the thank you pie,” Jack points out.

Bitty shrugs. “I never said yes to the tea.”

“But tea is much easier to make than a pie.”

Bitty laughs. “Not to me.” His heart flips over again. It seems to have decided he and Jack are teasing each other. Like friends.

[on to Part VII]

[freakie-deakie]

Hyunjin // If We Let Go (Part 2)

Guys oh my gosh I didn't think you were gonna like the first part so much and all the positive responses made me so happy I just 😭🙏❤️💕💓💞 tyty I love you all sm

Okay so this was originally a one shot, but I decided to make it into a mini series. I feel like this chapter is a little slow, but I've already started on the next one I promise it gets more exciting. I hope you enjoy it~💕

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Hyunjin x Reader (angst mini series // 3k words)

There was a soft knock at his door, drawing Jeongin's attention back to the outside world after several hours of appreciated solitary confinement. It felt nice for him to blow off some steam through listening to music and napping in his familiar area. His roommates didn't even bother him, which felt like a rare blessing that grew from roots of pity, but he'd take solace in quietness wherever he could find it.

"Do you..." Chan's voice faded away as he gathered his thoughts. "Do you wanna talk about it?" he tried. "I made breakfast for us."

Bang Chan didn't make breakfast for everyone in the shared apartment. Part of him wanted to, and to have everyone eat together when morning came, thinking maybe it would dispell some tension between his teammates. The other part of him knew that it wouldn't work. Even if he had cooked for eight, Felix having been absent and at your aid, many of the members didn't want to look at each other after the bomb had been so casually dropped into yesterday's conversation.

Jeongin's refreshing period of isolation was probably the only reason he didn't get instantly defensive, yet it still hadn't drained his habit of sarcastically shrugging off serious situations.

"You mean about how I totally embarrassed myself and let everyone know about my crush on my friend's ex?" He laughed bitterly. "Thanks hyung, but I'm good."

A sigh could be heard through the thin wood that separated them. "I'm gonna come in," Chan spoke softly.

Before he could even jiggle the door handle, the youngest was already out of bed and holding the door shut. "Hyung, I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget it."

"Let's talk for just a minute," Chan bargained. "Please."

There was a moment if silence and contemplation on both sides of the door. It was so fragile that it was eventually broken by only a soft huff and a click, the younger swiftly opening the door, pulling his older brother inside, and closing it once more.

"Felix is gonna stay with Y/N until things settle down a little bit but-" Chan cut himself off when he saw Jeongin's eyes start to squint to hold back tears. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" He was quickly at his side, pulling his head to his shoulder in a masculine attempt of comfort. The other could have cared less about his masculinity at that moment as he wrapped his arms around his hyung's torso as tightly as his unsteady muscles could let him hold on to someone.

"How could someone be so cruel?" he begged the answer. "And why did I have to say that? I kept it a secret for so long, why did I have to say it at the worst time, in front of everyone?"

Chan held the back of the younger's head, wrapping his spare arm around him to pat his back. "I don't know what they were thinking, honestly."

"I really like her," Jeongin confessed. "I want her to be happy. Why are they so unfair to her? And she'll never know how unfair they've been. It's not fair," he cried, pushing his face harder into the other's shoulder, focusing on trying to keep his breathing under control. Chan mentally noted that Jeongin was still unaware that Y/N had heard the majority of the conversation that took place as he had stormed off before they'd detected her presence.

"I know," Chan soothed, running his hand over the baby hairs at the base of Jeongin's neck. "I know."

•

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bacy," Felix taunted, moving the plate of fresh cooked breakfast foods under your nose, approximately half of your body being draped off the side of your cramped couch. He shook you lightly, trying once more. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty~"

Your eyes fluttered open, still feeling heavy and bound by the seal of dried tears. "You're too good to me," you croaked, slowly sitting up and taking in your surroundings.

"Someone has to be," he commented sideways. There was a small pause before you both broke out into a series of awkward chuckles. "Too soon?"

"Too soon," you agreed.

"Aish, I'm sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood a bit." He put your plate in your lap and went to fetch his own.

When he sat down, he slowly placed a bite of egg in his mouth, eyeing every one of your movements closely as you ate, acting as if he expected you to break down at any moment. He wanted to talk, hoping venting would help you, but he had no idea how to start a conversation about-

"Maybe I'll just become a lesbian," you stated simply, popping a grape in your mouth.

He choked on his bite, holding a hand to the base of his throat and coughing. 'I guess that's one way to do it.'

"I mean, I find girls attractive. Like, maybe not as in I'm attracted to them, but I'm not blind. Who knows, maybe I'll end up gay? Women seem so much easier. Like, I know what a girl wants, 'cause I am one. I don't know how to play my cards with guys. I don't understand how much care I can give them before it hurts their stupid dick-pride, or how much care I can ask for before I get annoying and needy-"

"I'm gonna have to stop you right there." He glared at you from your side. He knew you had a tendency to hide your feelings with twisted humor, laced with self depreciation. "You're not annoying or needy. You just had a bad apple for a boyfriend."

You sighed, laughing with void emotion. "I don't know.. I don't wanna dwell on this."

"It hasn't even been a day. No one will judge you if you take some time to heal-"

"I've had plenty of time. Time is a virtue. In the time I've had, I decided I want to forget everything. Close a chapter, get a fresh start."

"You've literally been awake for like two minutes."

"And in those two minutes I decided to become a lesbian and not care that giving someone four months of my undivided love and attention was only for a bet because my significant other was actually repulsed by me. Look at me, gettin' on with my life."

"Look, Hyunj-" he stopped himself when he saw your eyes flicker with petty anger. "The guy was undeniably a brainless dick, but like you said, up his. So now, self-care. And self-care starts with talking out the things you need to talk out to prevent bottling. I know this because I watched a lot of Dr. Phill."

You poked his leg with your fork, earning a yelp. "I'm not bottling, I'm just being the bigger person and letting go."

You both ate in silence until your brain formulated another question. You were about to ask, but Felix confessed before he even knew you were on the same page.

"By the way, I had to pick your lock last night. I got the door open, low-key might have broken your handle though. Someone is bringing your purse later."

You eyed him with such false disgust that he gave you one of his own biscuits as an apology.

You laughed lightly, putting it back on his plate and standing, done with your own. You dropped it off by your sink and rewrapped yourself in your comforter.

Felix finished eating just in enough time to move his plate from his lap to the coffee table and allow you to take its place.

"I don't wanna cry on you," you chuckled, tears coming back to your eyes. "I don't wanna be weak; but if you don't leave, I'm going to."

Yet again, Felix tried another not-well-timed joke to sooth you. "Well you just laid on me, fatty. I don't really have an option now, do I?" More tears threatened to spill from your eyes at that. You buried your face in his chest, a small sniffle escaping you. "I'm sorry, that was mean. And it's not true, you're beautiful and I want you to cry on me."

"Do you think that's why he didn't like me? Because I'm-"

"Don't you even call yourself fat." He looked down at you, his hand that wasn't holding you up and rubbing your back threatening to flick your forehead. "Or clingy, or needy. Sure, you sometimes one-eighty your emotions, but that's part of your perfection. You're perfect; it's that dick that needs some serious readjustments."

You softly hit his chest, chuckling to yourself as your face continued to become a fully functioning water park. "Shh, this ain't about your opinions. Just let me rant." He removed your hand from his chest and held it, his thumb running over the back of it.

"I want you to rant in a healthy way then. No self deprecation, understand?" You pitifully nodded, wiping at your eyes until the skin of your cheeks was raw.

"I don't wanna do this. I'm not good with talking through actual emotions. Can we just go lay in bed and watch movies? I think I wanna call in sick today anyways."

He gave you a couple of minutes to calm down before lifting you and stumbling to your bedroom. He plopped you on the bed and moved to get your laptop. "The Lion King, Frozen, The Lone Ranger? What are you in the mood for."

"Fifty Shades," you said just to tip him off.

"My Little Pony it is."

•

The first thing Hyunjin did when he got up was stretch and check his messages out of habit. But there were none.

On any normal day, the group chat would have been being spammed with the names of Spanish foods beginning with letters A through Z, or an argument about which horse breed is the best. If not that, there was always your message waiting in his in-box. Today, there was nothing.

His room was empty, too. He figured his roommates had probably crashed with someone else.

He rolled out of his bed, slipping his feet into his slippers and straightening his pajama-bottoms. Scratching the back of his neck, he padded down the hallway and into the kitchen. There was nobody.

Everything was eerily quiet.

He found two plates of food on the stove top, but as no one in the dorms had ever made breakfast for all of them, he knew their owners would return for them soon. He poured himself cereal and sat at the counter.

Low and behold, he was right. As he scrolled through media pages on his phone, two bodies joined him in the kitchen. One, the baby of the group with tears running down his face, his red puffy eyes being more than enough to make Hyunjin freeze and rest his spoon in his bowl and phone on the counter. Neither, though both noticing his presence, decided to acknowledge him.

"Jeongin.." Hyunjin tried. The maknae didn't turn to him, taking his plate from Chan and heading towards the door, the leader right behind him. "Jeongin, what's wrong?"

"Screw off, hyung."

Being the responsible figure in loco parentis, Chan obviously wasn't in support of his members fighting. Tension only made everything more horrible, from tight living conditions to an already stressful work environment. At the same time, he felt Hyunjin deserved to hear those words. He still deeply cared about him, and didn't want him to think badly of himself, but he wasn't against someone telling him to reevaluate himself.

Hyunjin received the silent treatment from the majority of his members all week. Others involved in the scandal hid away in their rooms most of the time. Felix had come home, but refused to sleep in the same room as Jisung, opting to sleep in the couch instead. You hadn't reached out to any of them since you kicked Felix out of your apartment so you could cry in peace. Most of you found yourselves drowning in work to avoid the problem that resided between you all.

All lines of communication were too quiet. Not even the members texted each other. Social silence.

And so, for the third time, Felix finds himself picking the lock on your door. A sigh of relief fell off his lips when a soft click and low creek alerted him that he now had safe entry.

He slipped inside, passing the kitchenette and into the living area. He found you sprawled out on the sofa, catching Z's while anime played in the background.

Upon further investigation, he discovered your bed made, not a wrinkle in it's sheets, and two empty boxes of microwavable popcorn. The trashcan was overflowing with butter lined bags that smelled of (favorite seasoning), the smell so far past being intensely olfactible that he gagged.

There weren't any used dishes laying around, aside from the mug of a suspicious liquid on the coffee table in front of you and the half eaten bowl of popcorn ready to slip out of your grasp.

On your work desk sat a completed stack of papers that stood impossibly high for a stack of papers. 'She's overworking herself.'

He shook his head, closing the door and making his way back towards the entrance to your kitchen. He was going to break your unhealthy food cycle that consisted of popcorn and what he assumed to be some sort of caffeine. He started at an ungodly hour, seeing as he was going to be cooking for a decently large group of people.

--a few hours--

When you woke up, you didn't even clock the other people in your house. You pulled yourself off of the couch and slumped to the bathroom.

"Wow, she looks like death," Changbin commented to the boy at his side who sipped his coffee and nodded.

When you finished your business, you washed your hands and looked in the mirror. Your hair was distraught, clothes disheveled, and skin under the attack of a light break out.

Groaning, you turned on the shower to let it heat up and ungraceful stumbled out to turn on the coffee machine. It wasn't until you had passed them and noticed the already made coffee that you noticed the six boys who resided in your kitchen and were watching every one of your movements closely.

Changbin and Chan sat at your island bar, Jeongin leaning most of his weight on the prior. Woojin stood by the cabinets, and Seungmin leaned in the fake marble countertop. The artificial ginger with the thick accent stood over the stove, a spatula hovering above the scrambled eggs.

You all looked at each other.

Silence.

Awkward silence.

"Well, uhm," you started, trying to gather your thoughts before your mouth ran off and left you behind. At least, you tried to but all you could really process was the fact that you looked like an absolute mess and you had no idea why there were people in your apartment. "Since you already started the coffee, I guess I'm gonna hit the shower," you said quietly, holding up a peace sign and backing out of the open space.

When you returned, everyone ate in uncomfortable banter, most of which was praising Felix for his cooking skills. Finally, you got around to asking, "So why are you guys here?"

They looked at one another with confusion. "You sent us all messages last night telling us to visit you today," voiced the leader. Felix's mouth stretched into a wide, impossibly-missed grin.

"You little snake," you said, narrowing your eyes at the boy who sat across from you. "I gave you my phone password for emergencies! How did you even get my- Did you break into my house again?"

"This was an emergency," he whined. "We miss you! We want to make you happy. And you needed to eat something that wasn't junk food."

You huffed, sticking another bite in your mouth. "You're such a worrywart. I'm fine."

"Y/N," Changbin cut in, "we're never gonna stop worrying about you."

Breakfast continued, eventually falling into more inviting idle chat about anything and everything that was not involving the tree people who were missing from the crowd. Afterwards, four of the boys excused themselves for work.

"Jeongin, Felix, it's cool if you two want to stay or go home since you recorded your parts yesterday."

You chuckled at the hard working men standing by your door. "You guys really still have to work on your days off?"

Chan sent a wink in your direction. "We'll sleep when we're dead, babygirl. Don't worry about us."

"Speak for yourself, hyung. I need my naps," Seungmin butted in.

"We're off to the studio if you need anything," Woojin restated before walking his children out the door.

You played video games for a while with the two that were left. After a while, you ended up just watching them because you were still moderately tired from pulling late nights. Work had been drowning recently, but it made for a good escape, almost convincing you to stop swimming away from it. Almost convincing you to sink.

A couple of weeks went by like that. Working, working, working, spending time with Felix, working, working, spending time with Jeongin, working, working, being occasionally visited or checked in on by one of your friends that didn't stab you in the back, working, working, and more working.

You unintentionally used work as a way to distance yourself from everyone. You voluntarily let your job as a(n) (occupation) consume you. You didn't have time to worry about your boys, or boys in general. You didn't have time to remember that you loved someone who had bet against you or that one of his best friends had admitted to liking you in the fire of the moment.

It felt like heaven to have none of that be relevant anymore.

But it was more than relevant to Hyunjin, who was now missing a surprisingly large piece of his day.

You.

Even he couldn't believe how long it took him to come around to the idea that you were important to him.

[taesthetes]

Double-Cross (my heart and hope to die).

Flirting is not the best strategy to fall towards when you might be arrested. It may have to be your last resort if needed, but you have not reached that point of desperation. Well, not yet at least. But god damn, he looks like he would be a good kisser.

pairing: jung hoseok x reader genre: fluff type: enemies to lovers + police au word count: 9,202 words warnings: none author’s note: i hope the fbi doesn’t come after me for my questionable google searches for research. i understand there are proper police procedures, like not letting the witness go until the full statement is taken, and that abetting crime is an offense, but for the sake of this fic, please disregard that one bit.

➵ bangtan police unit: a collab with @milknotes

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 If your mother saw you now, she would be horrified.

Dressed in all black, from your black Converse to black jeans with a hooded sweater in a matching shade, you briefly indulge in your childhood fantasy of being a ninja as you nimbly leap across the three-foot gap between the closely situated two story, flat roofed buildings. Adrenaline rushes through your veins when you make it to the other side, a smile spreading across your face as you steady yourself. The dark colored backpack you had slung over your shoulders mutes the jangled noises inside it from the metal canisters you haphazardly threw in twenty minutes ago. You immediately grab either side of your bag, silencing the noise. Luckily, there are not many people out and about this part of the city at this time of night, thus lowering the number of any witnesses to a zero.

You quickly scan your surroundings, eyes well-adjusted to the nighttime, searching for any security cameras and guards patrolling nearby that you may have missed during your daytime survey. Your search proves fruitless, and you are satisfied, walking towards the blank billboard positioned on top of the building. Clambering up the ladder after putting on gloves, you reach the ledge extending from the large white canvas and drop your bag, unzipping it immediately to pull out several spray cans.

You had spotted the empty billboard a week ago on your way back from an interview at a coffee shop called Déjà Brew, and you have been itching to cover it in brilliant colors ever since. Dozens upon dozens of sketches were made in one of your moleskin notebooks, and you finally settled on the final design. The all-nighter you are about to pull for this artwork is going to be no different than staying up studying for the midterm you had for your Forensics Litigation class eight days ago.

You have always found great pleasure in the irony of being a graduate student attending a law school while simultaneously causing quite a few violations against the legal system as your city’s Banksy-esque Andy Warhol.

Putting on a disposable facemask to block the fumes, you then pick up a canister of blue spray paint and shake it before uncapping it. Taking a deep breath, you press down on the nozzle and begin the background of your masterpiece. So the fun begins. Creating art is almost therapeutic to you, and to be more specific, graffiti is just downright satisfying. It is your equivalent of the universal middle finger salute towards the legal system and towards the degree you so dearly hate. But, as your high school art teacher once said, you need a day job—i.e. accountant or lawyer or whatever stable job there is—to fund your night job, more affectionately known as being an artist. You bet your teacher never thought you would take her words in the literal sense, yet here you are.

The sound of a car rumbling down the street is heard, and instinctively, you get down flat on your stomach. Peering over the ledge, you see a police car making its rounds. It drives into the parking lot of the McDonald’s on the corner, and you groan, wriggling around in your position. An officer leaves the parked car, entering the garishly lighted fast food restaurant, and you want to beat your fist against the metal rungs in frustration. There is no way you are going to continue your art when the police are a few buildings away. You like the thrill that comes with breaking a few laws and the possibility of getting caught, but you certainly are not stupid. Stupidity does not go well on any resume.

You observe silently as the cop rushes out of the restaurant very quickly and hops back into his car, empty handed. You wait for the car to start and move out, but it remains parked. Finally, two cops—the one from before and a new one—emerges from the car and enters the restaurant. A few minutes later, they come out with a young woman in tow. You rest your chin on your hand, propping up your head, as you look on with slight interest. They begin to question her from the looks of it, and you almost tumble over the edge in surprise when the shrill protest voicing several NO!’s is heard along with a shrill cry for “Jooks” and “Kookoo”? You steady yourself and watch as the officers finally manage to calm the girl down and get her to sit in the backseat. When the patrol car starts up and leaves the parking lot, turning the corner and going out of sight, you finally rise up from your position. Stretching your arms for a moment first, at last, you turn back to your unfinished artwork.

When the sky turns to shades of yellow and orange as the sun slowly begins to peek out amongst the skyscrapers, announcing the dawn of a new day, you finish the last curve of your signature in the far bottom left corner, using a small airbrush. The small, curled letters spelling out “Eden” shines due to the fleeting seconds of wet paint. You run your fingertips over the instantly dried letters, tracing every swoop and line with a satisfied smile before collecting your empty canisters and place them back into your backpack, shouldering the bag once more. You clamber down the ladder and deftly retrace your steps back down to ground level, pulling off the gloves and face mask and stuffing them into the front pocket of your hoodie.

Glancing behind you as you make your way back to your shared apartment, you grin as the first rays of sunlight hit the masterpiece you left behind.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 “They’ve done it again.”

Lieutenant Yoongi tosses the newspaper onto his desk, his badge glinting in the light, as he rubs his temple with his forefinger tiredly. The black bold letters emblazoned across the top stand out against the gray paper, announcing the pop-up of Eden’s latest work on top of an apartment building. A large photograph of the art piece is shown below the headline. Yoongi remembers passing by that blank billboard for several months now on his way to work. It is amazing how some graffiti work can skyrocket a supposed four digit value to seven digits, according to the advertising company who sold the board this morning.

“Who?” Hoseok sits in the chair across from Yoongi’s desk, one leg crossed over the other leisurely. He picks up the discarded newspaper, scanning the front page, as Yoongi answers his question.

“The graffiti artist, Eden. They left another painting on that billboard near McDonald’s.”

“It’s pretty.” Hoseok gazes at the picture beneath the black letters. With an asymmetrical background consisting of geometric lines mirroring architect blueprints behind it in technicolor, a field of sunflowers are painted onto the board. In replacement of the roots, there are lightbulbs hanging from the stem. “It’s a nice gesture towards solar energy.”

“Graffiti is illegal. Just because it’s pretty doesn’t mean law violations can be ignored,” Yoongi reminds him, leaning back against his chair and picking up another casefile to rifle through. “I know you like their art a lot, but Eden defaced public property, and this isn’t Venice Beach.”

“It’s not like they’re painting on highway signs and important monuments though. It’s just empty walls and unimportant places. They make the place look prettier and brings up tourism and value to the building owners. That flower shop—What in Carnation? was the name, I think—was about to close, but they painted the store's outer wall and brought customers back.”

“It’s still a violation.”

“So are you saying we’re going to arrest Eden? Start a press conference and announce the search for some mystery figure whose art the people enjoy?”

“No, that’s far too much work, and we have other more pressing cases to get through,” Yoongi sighs, “Just tell the officers on night patrol to keep an eye out, you know, on places like other empty billboards, open walls, and the likes. And that McDonald’s breaks aren’t allowed. We don’t want to babysit any more drunk exes.”

“But Jungkook brought you extra doughnuts as an apology today.”

“… Tell him to keep the McDonald’s breaks to a minimum of one patrol per week.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 Stepping out of the classroom after your last lecture in Criminology and Criminal Procedure, you say a quick goodbye to your friends before putting on your headphones and making the trek back to your apartment. Your professor assigned several case studies to read through and take notes on, and you luckily have a couple of hours to get started on them before your first shift at Déjà Brew. Passing under a familiar powder blue and white striped awning with gold trimming, you halt in your steps, debating with yourself for a few moments, before entering Sprinkles. You always study better in someplace that is not your home anyway.

The cozy interior is well lit with lights overhead that provides a soft, warm glow to the place. The décor gives off a sort of modern take on a 1950s diner atmosphere due to the black and white checkered floors and white counters with pale blue spinning stools to sit on along with several matching tables and chairs. However, your eyes are immediately drawn to the glass display cases exhibiting some of the prettiest doughnuts you have ever seen. You secretly check to make sure you are not visibly drooling.

 “Hey, _______!” Jisoo greets you happily as she places three pristine sprinkled doughnuts in a pale blue box behind the counter. A young man around your age sits by the counter, and his eyes, pooling with something akin to mischief and curiosity, flicker towards your approaching figure. You study him carefully from the corner of your eye as you wave to Jisoo before slipping onto one of the empty stools, a few seats away from the man. His silver, slightly messy hair nearly reaches his eyes, effectively covering his eyebrows, and his thin, patterned tie is somewhat undone over a white dress shirt with a few buttons already undone, loosely tucked into his dress pants. He gives you a bright grin, and you flush a little, but return his gesture with a smile of your own.

“Here you go, Tae.” Jisoo hands the completed box over to the man, and an even larger smile makes his way across his face before he thanks her.

“Thank you! See you tomorrow!” He waves at her before flashing you another easygoing smile and leaving the shop.

“So what’s happening tomorrow?” You send an impish smirk towards your friend, and her cheeks turn a rosy red.

“Nothing! He just comes by to pick up doughnuts for the police station every morning.”

“But it’s the afternoon. Does he inhale doughnuts or something?” You absentmindedly say, pulling your laptop out of your bag and onto the counter along with the printed out casefiles your professor handed out at the end of the lecture. Rummaging around the bottom of your bag, you take out your highlighters and pen and place them next to your laptop, turning on the device afterwards.

“No, he likes the sprinkled ones, but his boss, Yoongi, likes old fashion glazed doughnuts, and he usually gets only that type every morning for the whole squad. So he comes back later for the sprinkled ones.” Jisoo places a sugar powdered doughnut in front of you, and you thank her, making a mental note to slip a few bills in the glass jar labelled “tips” later. She always refused to let you pay her, but you manage to sneak in some money through tips when she is not looking.

“But he could get his sprinkled doughnuts in the morning still.” A sly look creeps onto your face before you continue, “He likes you.”

“Shut up.” Her face burns scarlet as she turns away from you. “He does not.”

“Yes, he does.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does.”

“No, h—Oh, hello, welcome to Sprinkles!”

Jisoo stands up straighter, smiling politely at the new group of high school aged customers, and you snicker quietly, ignoring the pointed look she directs at you. You start to focus on your work, powering through the thick stack of cases and highlighting the important pieces of information, writing notes of your own on the edges.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 Two weeks later, you are absolutely exhausted from the all-nighters and long hours at the library, but midterm season is finally over. You had finished taking your last midterm three hours ago in which you were proven correct that you should have studied the Wong Sun v. United States case in greater detail. But what is done is done, and your fingers are itching to grasp another spray can and paint your newest idea for a pollution piece on the wall near Cuppo Noodles. The canisters hidden in your bag clank against each other as you weave your way around other sleep deprived students coming home from late class midterms. The sun has already set, leaving the faintest traces of light behind, and it is only a short matter of time when the night sky will cloak over the city and provide you the perfect coverage.

You drop by the convenience store, deciding to treat yourself to some ice cream, as you wait for the number of people outside and within the vicinity to thin out. After all, the less number of witnesses the better. You find a place to sit in the front of the store, slipping onto the stool and placing your purchase on the counter table in front of you. From your vantage point, you can see through the shop glass, monitoring the social activity and scoping out the wall that can just barely be seen if you strain your neck a little to the right.

Scooping out a hefty amount of Ben and Jerry’s Everything But The… straight out of the pint and onto your spoon, you almost moan out loud when the sweet dessert hits your tongue. Indulging in one of your guilty pleasures should make you feel, well, guilty, but you do not. The ice cream is well deserved after two weeks of midterms. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. When the tip of your spoon scrapes the bottom of the carton, you look longingly at the other cartons stacked neatly in the freezer, almost beckoning at you to buy another one. But temptation is fleeting in front of desire, and you desire nothing more than to paint your piece onto the bricks. Noticing the lack of activity outside the now quiet street, lit up by the lampposts, you take it as your cue to leave, throwing away the empty cardboard container and stepping out of the convenience store. Briefly stopping to drop your bag at your feet momentarily, you pull on a dark zip-up hoodie and then put on the backpack once more.

From any passerby’s point of view, you probably look very shady, but no one is in sight. The majority of the people who frequent these streets are usually students who go to the university, and around this time, especially on a Friday night after many midterms came to an end, they are all much too preoccupied with beer pong and shots at parties on Greek Row a few streets over. Aside from the cashier wearing noise cancelling headphones who is more interested in the tabloid magazine she is thumbing through than the girl who was eating ice cream alone, you do not see anyone else around. With the odds in your favor, you easily make it to the wall, ducking into the small alleyway. It was not exactly a street, but more of a small walkway with small shops lined on either side. Setting down your bag, you pull out a pair of gloves and a facemask, donning them on, before reaching into your backpack and grasping for the purple spray paint can. You uncap the canister and begin to paint, a satisfied smile making its way across your face, hidden beneath the black facemask.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 No one, especially when they are drunk, ever notices the figure dressed in dark clothing who blends quite easily into the shadows. And the six people who had passed by you at various times throughout the night were very much intoxicated. The moonlight does not provide much light and works to your advantage, creating the cloak of darkness that you effortlessly merge into. You hold a flashlight in one hand and a spray can in the other. Four hours pass by easily, and you are three quarters done with your art piece by the time the clock strikes 2 A.M. The background and overall shapes and colors of each item have taken shape, and you are almost tingling with excitement to begin your favorite part: the details. Details make the art or break it. They bring any piece to life with just an extra splash of color here or an extra dash and line there.

Rummaging around your bag for the airbrush, you suddenly hear the incoming sounds of tires screeching against the asphalt. You look up, eyes widening when you spot two cars racing down the street at an alarming rate, and your mind somehow knows what is going to happen a split second before it does.

A resounding crash! is heard before the second car stops in its place and the first car rams against a fire hydrant with a sickening thud.

Heart racing, you wonder if you should go out there and check on the people. A deafening silence fills the air for the entirety of three seconds before loud screams suddenly fill the air as the two drivers emerge from their vehicles, surprisingly unscathed and unbelievably furious.

“You fucking bitch! Look what you did to my car! You’re gonna pay for this!” The man is seething as he stalks towards the woman, who looks up from her car against the hydrant with fury radiating from her skin.

“I’ll pay for it when you pay the damn alimony and child support!” the woman screams back. “Besides, you hit my car, asshole!”

“There is no alimony! My lawyer already told you that!”

“There will be after this new lawsuit!”

Hurriedly, you scoop all your supplies back into your bag as quietly as possible, zipping it up and carefully putting it on to avoid any of the cans from clashing. All the shops nearby are already closed, and no one else is close by. Your hand finds your phone in the back pocket of your jeans, quickly pulling it out and searching for the anonymous tip number with shaky hands. You dial it, and when someone answers, your voice comes out in hushed whispers.

“Hello? Yes, I’d like to report anonymously a car accident near Atwood Avenue and Bowman Street—Yes, Bowman Street. The car crash looks bad, but it doesn’t look like anyone is hurt—Yes, I can see them. They got out of their cars, and they’re screaming at each other… I’m afraid they’re going to get violent… I’m hiding right now—Yes, okay, thank you.”

A few minutes later, the sound of sirens are heard, and the police cars slow to a stop in front of the accident. The officers and EMTs step out of the vehicles, walking towards the arguing couple. The erratic pounding of your heart slows down considerably as you breathe a sigh of relief. The man, on the other hand, seems to have opposite feelings than you about the police showing up. He immediately starts running, and with growing horror, you realize he is running towards the alleyway you are cooped up in. You press yourself against the wall, huddling in the shadows of a large planter and some folded up tables and chairs.

The man runs past you without notice, and the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching forces you to burrow into your hiding space even farther. Two police officers, one who looks like he belongs in a gym and another with rather spindly legs, rush past you. After waiting a few minutes with bated breath, you stand up from your position, cautiously making your way out of the alley.

Only to be met with another pair of officers.

Immediately, you are blinded with a bright light, and you let out a noise of surprise, hand coming up to cover your eyes.

“Taehyung! You’re not supposed to do that!” A soft voice scolds the supposed officer who made you temporarily lose your vision. The light is immediately lowered, and you try to blink away the spots to see clearly again.

“Wait… I think I know her though. Were you at Sprinkles?” The officer with the flashlight peers intently at your face, and you squint, trying to make out his features before finally making sense of the situation. You recognize that silver hair. “Jisoo didn’t tell me her boyfriend was a cop.”

The flashlight falls with a clatter to the ground as Taehyung looks startled before suppressing a grin. “She called me her boyfriend?”

You rub your eyes slightly, blinking rapidly as your vision returns to normal. “No, I just assumed. You’re not her boyfriend?”

“No, he just wants to be.” The softer voice cuts in again before he can respond. A man dressed in the same uniform as Taehyung, but of shorter stature, comes into your view. “What were you doing out here?”

“I was out for a walk, and I heard running, and my instinct kicked in.” You shrug before shifting the bag on your shoulder a bit. “Can I go now?”

“You were out for a walk this late?”

You squint slightly and are able to make out the name on his uniform. “Yes. Is that a crime, Officer Park?”

“Wearing that?” Taehyung blurts out as he stares at your all black ensemble dubiously.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was talking to the fashion police.” Taehyung flushes and gives you a sheepish smile. You cross your arms over your chest. “Can I go now, officers?”

“Not yet. What’s in your bag?” Officer Park questions.

“My belongings.” Your irritation is about to bubble to the surface. This is what you get for trying to do a good deed and reporting an accident.

“May I see?” Officer Park comes closer, his hand reaching out, before you take a few steps back.

“Do you have probable cause?”

“Do you have something to hide?”

You open your mouth to answer when Taehyung pipes up. “Nevermind that. Did you see anything when you were walking? There was an accident. Did you hear anything?”

You pause for a moment. “I heard yelling and sirens.”

“Would you come down to the station to make a witness statement?”

“No.” You start to back away again. “I really need to go home now. I have classes the next day, and I need to sleep now.”

“Ma’am, you need to come with us.” Officer Park steps forward, grabbing your arm, and your eyes narrow as your body jerks back from his grasp. You briefly glance over to the ambulance where the woman sits in the back, seething, as an EMT checks her over. She throws over a glare that sends a shiver up your spine.

“You have a witness over there.”

“But she’s also involved in the accident. We need you to come down to the station.”

“Am I being arrested?”

“Jimin, wait.” Taehyung grasps Officer Park’s wrist, pulling him back, before turning towards you, pleading. “Please just come with us down to the station? The statement won’t take long. You’re not under arrest.”

You hesitate. Taehyung’s eyes are filled with sincerity, but Jimin looks like he is already ready to whip out a ticket for you with the way he stares you down. Your eyes flicker back to Taehyung, and you curse yourself for thinking of your friend at this moment. Gosh darn it, she really seems to like this Taehyung dude, you internally groan.

With a sigh, you nod, and Taehyung grins in relief before gesturing you to follow him to the car. Jimin trails behind you suspiciously, and you send him a well-pointed scowl, which causes his face to morph into one of surprise for a split second before he returns the look. You quicken your pace and hover around the car’s side with the passenger seat uncertainly as Taehyung gets into the driver’s seat, flicking on the police radio.

“So am I going to have to sit in the back?”

“No.” Jimin speaks up, leaning against the hood of the car. “We have to stay here and watch over the lady and wait for the other two officers to come back with our runaway suspect, so Taehyung is calling in for the sergeant to come pick you up.”

“Okay.”

A slightly uncomfortable silence overtakes the short lived conversation, and you pull at the loose thread on your sweater sleeve mindlessly. The sound of a car door slamming shut is heard as Taehyung comes around the front of the car and murmurs to Jimin that someone named Hoseok will be here in a few minutes. You assume he is the sergeant Jimin mentioned earlier.

Your assumption proves to be correct when a car identical to the two already here appears, and the man that steps out introduces himself to you. “I’m Sergeant Jung, but you can call me Hoseok. You’re our witness?”

“Yes… unfortunately.” You mumble the last part under your breath as Hoseok guides you to his car, opening the passenger door for you to slide in. You settle into the seat, clutching your backpack to your chest. Hoseok speaks to the two officers, and they gesture towards the alleyway, mentioning an Officer Jeon and an Officer Kim. The sergeant jogs over to the area, looking around for a bit with a flashlight, before returning with a frown. He shakes his head at something Jimin says before coming over and getting into the driver’s seat. He starts the car, and Taehyung waves at you, while Jimin still holds a look of suspicion directed towards you on his face.

“So,” Hoseok clears his throat, and you turn to look at him. “What were you doing out here this late?”

“Did the police academy teach all of you to start a conversation with that, Sarge?”

“What?” Hoseok looks taken aback, and you turn forward, focusing on the white dashed lines on the black asphalt.

“Never mind. I don’t understand why I have to come down to the station. I heard screaming and sirens. That’s all. Do you really need me to write that down on a piece of paper?”

“Are you sure that’s all?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure? Are you doubting my ears now?”

Hoseok glances over at you silently before focusing on his driving. The rest of the ride remains quiet, and you pull out your phone, replying to a few unopened text messages. In particular, you send a message to Jisoo, telling her where you were and why. A flurry of worried texts appears on your phone, asking if you are alright and if she needed to come down. You send a quick message back, assuring her that you are okay and that you will keep her updated, before Hoseok pulls up in front of the police station.

“We’re here.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 The two of you are seated in a small room, similar to a conference room. At least you were not put in an interrogation room, you muse to yourself, settling down into the office chair. You had caught a glimpse of the stoic lieutenant in his office, and the piercing stare he gave you when he looked up made you walk closer to the sergeant in front. Said sergeant now slides a yellow paged notepad in front of you, placing a pen on top of it. Your backpack remains in your lap as you grab the writing utensil.

“Please write your name and what you saw and heard.” Hoseok states, and you give him a curt nod before printing your name on top and rapidly penning down the events that took place.

I was taking a walk around 2 A.M. when I heard a loud crash. There was screaming. The man threatened the woman, and the woman was yelling about alimony and child support. The woman said she would file a new lawsuit. I hid behind the dumpster. I was there for a few minutes before I heard sirens. I saw the man run past me and two officers followed behind him. I stayed there for a few more minutes before getting out of my hiding spot. Then, Officer Kim shined his flashlight in my face, and Officer Park interrogated me.

“There. Can I go now?” You watch cautiously as Hoseok picks up the paper and reads through what you have written. His eyebrows furrow slightly before he puts down the notepad.

“So, _______... are you sure this is it?”

“I wrote what I saw and heard, like you asked.”

There is a muffled noise near the door, and the two of you immediately look over, but hear nothing else. Wanting to resume the conversation, Hoseok hesitates before tentatively saying, “You see, we received an anonymous tip on that car accident. The officers were on the scene in less than a few minutes. The stores nearby were all closed, and you were the only one there, besides the two in the accident. So my theory is that you were the one who called.”

“That’s an interesting thought, Sarge, but you can’t hold me here for a theory. So I’ll be going now.” You move to stand up, but Hoseok stands up quickly situating himself in your line of path.

“Please. We only have the female in custody, but they’re still in pursuit of the male. You’re the only one who can provide an unbiased account of what happened.”

“I’m sorry, but I really have to leave.” You clutch your bag a little tighter to your chest, and Hoseok’s eyes flit towards the backpack.

“What’s in the bag?”

“My belongings. Officer Park already asked me this. Can you please move so I can leave?”

“May I see it?”

“No, you may not.”

“Are you hiding something?” He reaches out for your bag, and you pull back.

“This is my personal property, and you cannot search it without probable cause.”

“You’re on public property.”

“The bag has been in my possession this entire time and has not touched the floor. Are you really trying to argue that there has been some sort of property transference the moment I step on public property?”

The sergeant raises an eyebrow before pulling his hands back. “No, I’m sorry. But you were out for a walk wearing that?”

“There’s nothing illegal about taking a walk in dark clothes.” You pause. “Look, I came in here to give you a witness statement out of the good of my heart because Officer Kim asked. If you’re turning this into some sort of interrogation, then you have no grounds to hold me, and I will be leaving now.”

Hoseok sighs before motioning to the pad. “Okay. You can go now.”

He sits there lost in thought, tapping his finger against the surface. He contemplates over his next actions, carefully scrutinizing you. Hoisting your backpack over your shoulder, you walk out of the room before you hear him call out, “Do you need a ride home? It’s the least I can do for you helping us.”

You stop in your tracks. It is late after all, and walking back to your place at this time of night alone is not the safest decision. “Yes, please.”

You and Hoseok walk through the station wordlessly. You see the two officers who had run past you in the alley, locking up the man in one of the holding cells. The taller one raises an eyebrow towards Hoseok, who hand motions something towards the man with a nod. The two of you leave the building and reach his squad car, and you situate yourself into the passenger seat once more. Hoseok waits for your seatbelt to click on before pulling out of his parking space. You give him the directions to your apartment, and he punches it into the GPS.

“So are you a student?” Hoseok asks, and you stop fiddling with the small keychain hooked onto your bag.

“Yes.”

Hoseok suppresses a smile at your curt answer. “What are you studying?”

“I’m a third year law student.”

“Huh. Figures.”

You turn towards the sergeant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s something ironic about a law student moonlighting as a graffiti artist, isn’t there?” he casually states, and your blood runs cold. You freeze in your spot for a millisecond before turning towards the man. A small smirk plays on his lips as he gently taps his finger against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw the art when I went to check the alleyway. I bet if I check your bag right now, I’d find spray cans and paint matching the paint on the wall. And, I believe I do have probable cause now to check it.”

He pulls over onto the side of the street beneath one of the street lights. The yellow glow casts various shades of light onto his face. You admit you would be shamelessly admiring his side profile had you not been in this current predicament, sweating it out at the moment. Flirting is not the best strategy to fall towards when you might be arrested. It may have to be your last resort if needed, but you have not reached that point of desperation. Well, not yet at least. But god damn, he looks like he would be a good kisser. Focus on the situation, you chide yourself, stop getting distracted by the hot sergeant.

“Unfortunately for you, Sarge, spray paint is generic. Hundreds of people buy it. Hypothetically, if I had some and it matched, it would be a coincidence.”

“Perhaps. But I have enough for reasonable suspicion.”

“What if I give you a full witness statement in exchange for letting me go on this hypothetical misdemeanor?”

Hoseok stays quiet, and you can hear your heartbeat thudding erratically in your chest. If this goes on your record, it will definitely result in a blow to your career’s credibility. You swallow hard, clutching your bag even tighter to your chest, as your hands form fists, nails pressing crescent shaped marks into your palms.

“Now that’s not really a fair deal, is it?”

“I would have to do a hundred hours of community service if I am charged. You, on the other hand, without the witness statement, would be involved in a civil suit between two people who are clearly in the midst of a bad divorce. Do you really want to be tied up with days, maybe months, of court appearance and paperwork? And you know damn well how long divorce lawyers will prolong their cases until they milk both sides dry of their money.”

You can see Hoseok swallow hard when the full weight of your words hit him, his Adam’s apple bobbing. You got him: hook, line, and sinker. You have the upper hand now. You had heard the lieutenant of the Bangtan Police Unit was a hard ass, but perhaps lady luck was shining upon you because you got the sergeant instead. Hiding your smirk, you continue, “And I can sue your officers—Officer Park and Officer Kim, was it? —for harassment. I will be suing for the way Officer Park was interrogating me earlier after Officer Kim nearly blinded me when I was walking back. Officer Park roughly grabbed my arm. I’ll also be needing the footage from his body camera as evidence.”

Hoseok nearly swears out loud. Jimin had always been a good officer, but his recent break up has clouded his judgement for the past few weeks. He decides to put out his last bargaining chip. “Now, let’s not be hasty here. I’m sure we can work this out… right, Miss Eden?”

All the cards have been pulled out now. The both of you have played your last pawn, but it is your turn to move. And hearing that moniker slip through his teeth, your heart drops through your ribcage for a second time that night. “What did you call me?”

Hoseok tilts his head to the right, a half smile peeking out on his face. “Eden. Who knew the famous law-breaking artist of our city is also a good Samaritan? That’s why you called in an anonymous tip. Because you were committing a law infraction yourself.”

“I’m not Eden. I’m a very big fan of their work though.”

He chuckles, “Really? So you’re telling me that if I drop you off at your address, you’re not going to go back to that wall and paint the rest? And I won’t find the Eden signature at the bottom? I know you artists are very particular with credit.”

You stay silent, and Hoseok smiles in satisfaction. “I thought so. How about this: it’s late, and we both need sleep. You can come back in the morning and give me a full witness statement. I’ll drop any charges on vandalism, and you drop that civil suit against my officers.”

“Any charges on vandalism?”

“Yes.”

You hesitate. “Will you tell anyone?”

“No, I won’t. I promise. Cross my heart, and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

You let out a tiny smile at the childish rhyme. “Why?”

Hoseok shrugs. “You called in the crime, while you were committing a crime, too. You were willing to get caught for the safety of others. I don’t know if that makes you a good person or an idiot. I’m still debating.”

“Hey!”

He chuckles, “Do we have a deal or not?”

“Okay, fine, deal.”

“Good. Now here’s my number. You call me if anything goes wrong, but try not to get caught, okay?”

“Wha—” You confusedly take the slip of paper he hands you, but your sentence cuts off short when you see the car is parked near a very familiar alleyway. Wide eyed, you look back at him as he shrugs before gesturing for you to go.

“I thought you might, you know, want to walk back to your place. From here. Instead.”

Scrambling, you open the door and step out, tossing the backpack over your shoulders. You step out onto the sidewalk before closing the car door. He rolls down the window, calling out, “I’ll be going back to the station now. Remember to come back in the morning. Stay safe and be careful, Miss Eden.”

You stand on the edge of the sidewalk, fingers curled around the scrap of paper, and watch as his car disappears around the corner. You smile softly to yourself before sending a quick text to Jisoo and entering the smaller alley street. Sliding the paper slip into your back pocket, you put down your backpack and pull out a white spray can.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 “Sergeant, you remember that girl you picked up for the witness statement?”

Jimin stands in front of Hoseok’s desk, clutching a newspaper in his hand. Hoseok slowly looks up from the paperwork scattered across the table surface, putting down the fountain pen with a small thud against the wood. Peering up at his officer, he quickly melds his face into one of indifference.

“Yes, what about her?”

His officer drops the inked paper onto his desk. “Look at this. Eden left another art piece on the wall of the same alleyway we caught her. Do you think she’s the artist?”

Unbelievable. The newspapers already swooped around the art like vultures. It has not even been five hours since he had dropped you off there. Emblazoned across the top in black and white is a large, bold headline about another Eden artwork cropping up in the city.

“I checked that alley with a flashlight, remember? I didn’t see this there when I looked around.” He taps the picture on the front page of the newspaper. Technically, he thinks to himself, what he says is true. He only saw the partially completed image then, not the entirely finished work.

“Maybe she was going to paint, but that accident happened. Did you check her bag? Maybe she went back and painted it after giving her witness statement.” Jimin persists, and for once, Hoseok wishes Jimin is not as thorough at his job as he usually is.

“Her bag was cleared. She’s coming back here sometime soon to give her statement. I personally drove her back. She gave me her home address. She also mentioned something about you grabbing her arm.” Hoseok raises an eyebrow at his officer, who immediately bows his head in shame.

“I made a mistake. I apologize, sir.”

“I convinced her not to file a civil suit. I know you’ve been… a little preoccupied with things outside of work, but please be more careful, Park.”

“Yes, sir. I will. Thank you.”

Jimin leaves quickly afterwards, and Hoseok lets out an inaudible sigh of relief. That was a close one. He picks up the newspaper, gazing down at the picture. The wall is covered with a beautiful sunset with a beach and mountains incorporated into the image. However, when he takes a closer look, the entire painted scenery is actually made up of crushed soda cans, candy wrappers, chewed gum, banana peels, and other items easily found in landfills and recycling centers. It is interesting, he muses, a small smile on his lips, sunsets are created from air pollution, yet they’re so beautiful, and you managed to depict the same concept with the scenery created entirely of garbage. A pollution piece is found within another pollution piece.

He carefully sets aside the newspaper before he sorts through the various files, stacking them into appropriate sections. He finds the file on the car accident and flips open the manila folder, pulling out the freshly printed images of the car crash. Copies of the lawsuits that were quickly faxed over are found as well, and he sighs as he reads through the transcripts and papers before staring at the pictures once more. It would have become another he said, she said case if you were not there to witness it, which would, without a doubt, become even messier with the ongoing divorce lawsuit. He is about to take a closer look at one particular photo when—

"Wow, you look terrible."

Hoseok looks up to see Seokjin, standing in front of his desk, and resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, he looks great. There is no surprise in that. "Thanks. I really appreciate that."

"No, it's just that—have you slept yet? Those eye bags are pretty dark."

“Hoseok, it’s eight A.M. Did you even go home at all? I thought I told you to take a day off today after that night case.” Yoongi appears at the sergeant’s desk and stares at the open casefile over Hoseok’s shoulder. “You’ve been overworking and staying overtime too much. You need a break.”

“Morning, Lieutenant. He’s just waiting for the cute witness to show up,” Taehyung says, grinning cheekily before holding out a box of Yoongi’s favorite sugary fried delicacies, “Want a doughnut?”

Yoongi quickly grabs one, but not without sending a frown towards the sergeant. “Are you seeing her? You know that’s against policy. We can’t get involved with anyone in an open case.”

“No! No, I’m not.” Hoseok hastily denies, cheeks burning. “I just told her to come by in the morning to give me her witness statement. And I thought it would be better if she spoke to the same person. For consistency, you know?”

Yoongi eyes him suspiciously before giving him a nod and starting his trek to his office. Seokjin follows behind him, prepared to give the lieutenant his weekly report. Hoseok quickly turns to Taehyung to give him the stink eye, but the mischievous, silver haired officer is nowhere to be found. The only sign of his past presence is the box of old fashion glazed doughnuts and sprinkled chocolate ones with one of each missing left on Hoseok’s desk. Sighing, he grabs one with the rainbow sprinkles and is about to take a bite when—

“Hey, Sarge.”

“_______!” Hoseok’s eyes widen before they dart around, and he is slightly flailing until his eyes spot the powder blue and white striped box. “Uh, doughnut?”

You smile before declining, “I actually had one before I came. My friend runs that shop actually. But thank you for the offer.”

“O-oh, no problem.” Hoseok gestures towards the familiar conference room. “Would you be more comfortable giving me your statement in there?”

“Sure, thanks.”

You follow behind him as he leads you towards the room, writing utensil and notepad in hand. The two of you quietly sit down, and he hands you the pen, pushing the notepad across the table surface towards you. You write down your account of the events carefully, the tip of your tongue sticking out slightly as you concentrate on scribbling down all the details you can remember.

Hoseok fidgets around in his chair, finally settling on a position before interlocking his hands and placing them on the table in front of him. He keeps his gaze on you, eyes flitting around curiously. He catches the way your hand pushes the soft flyaway tendrils of your hair behind your ear, the faintest color of marigold on the tip of your pointer finger. He smiles to himself when he sees your nose scrunches slightly for a moment as your eyes scan what you have finished writing.

“Here you go, Sarge.”

“Thank you.” He takes the notepad from you, looking over what you have written down and nodding in satisfaction. “This is really helpful. Thanks, _______.”

“No problem.” You stand up and start to leave the room, but stop. You hover in the doorway, wavering before saying at last, “Why did you let me go?”

“Hmm?” He looks up from the paper.

You repeat yourself, “You could have charged me. Why did you let me go?”

Hoseok tilts his head to the side, giving you a small grin as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand. “I decided that you’re a good person.”

“Oh.” The look of surprise that crosses over your face earns you a small chuckle from the sergeant. You stay silent for several seconds before asking the second question that has been on your mind for the past hours.

"How did you know it was Eden's work?"

His eyes twinkle before he gives you a small wink that causes your cheeks to warm up considerably. “I’m a huge fan of Eden. They’re making the city look more beautiful and raising awareness for environmental issues.”

You feel yourself flush even more as you duck your head sheepishly. You fiddle with the thin silver bracelet around your wrist for a moment before speaking up, “I have an art exhibition in a couple of weeks… Would you like to come?”

Hoseok beams, nodding his head. “I’d like that a lot.”

You give him a relieved smile before telling him the date of the unveiling and writing down your phone number. “How about we meet up at The Bean around 8 A.M. and walk over there together?”

“Sounds great.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 Hoseok’s phone buzzes a few hours later during his lunch break. He puts down his sandwich, peering down at the device. A tiny smile spreads across his face when he sees it is from you, several text messages popping up.

[12:13] you: hey sarge

[12:13] you: there’s something I don’t get

[12:13] you: when you saw it in the alley, there was no signature

[12:13] hoseok: yes what about it?

[12:14] you: then how did you know it was eden?

[12:14] hoseok: it was a hunch

[12:15] you: pretty accurate hunch you had

[12:16] you: did you study art styles in the police academy or something

[12:16] hoseok: nope

Hoseok’s fingers hover over the keyboard. He bites his bottom lip, contemplating for a few moments, before lightly tapping out his reply and hitting send.

[12:16] hoseok: have you ever seen the old walls on the east side

[12:17] you: yeah why

[12:17] hoseok: the art there is pretty old but

[12:18] hoseok: have you seen the ones by jhope?

Immediately, he sees the three bubbles pop up, and he holds his breath, waiting for your response.

[12:18] you: are you kidding me sarge

[12:18] you: you’re jhope???

[12:18] you: the collab pieces between jhope and agust d are still legends

Hoseok’s lips curl into another smile. Secretly, pride blooms in his chest. As an angsty teenager, he quite liked the thrill and fun that came with being a tagger. Of course, he had to stop after he decided to attend the police academy with his best friend.

Another buzz from his phone brings his attention back to you.

[12:19] you: wait then who’s agust d

He grins, glancing over at Yoongi. The lieutenant raises an eyebrow at him, but Hoseok just shakes his head before writing his answer.

[12:19] hoseok: you know the lieutenant?

[12:19] you: you’re shitting me

[12:19] you: oh my god

[12:20] hoseok: impressed? ^^

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 Hoseok had finally taken a day off after much badgering on Yoongi’s part. Specifically, he took the day of your art exhibition off. Donning a dark washed, blue denim jacket with a loose striped shirt tucked into his ripped black jeans, he looks like any other passerby without his usual formal ensemble. The Bean is not too far from his apartment, and the weather was good, so he decides to walk over there. He is glad that the car accident case had been smoothed over and dealt with after a few days. The other cases he still has are more in the open and shut range, so he is not really losing sleep over any particular one. And he has been texting back and forth with you more often as well. In fact, he checks his phone as it vibrates and sees one from you.

[07:58] you: sorry I’m running a few minutes late but I’ll see you soon!

He sends back a short message, assuring you that it was fine. However, when he turns the corner, he finally sees a large crowd jostling around the bustling coffee shop, phones all out and taking pictures of whatever is in front of them. Hurriedly, he makes his way over, fearing the worst before edging himself through the mass of people before finally reaching the front of the crowd. And he gasps, eyes widening in disbelief and cheeks reddening.

On the wall next to the shop, a new mural is on display. The police badge has been painstakingly painted onto the bricks in multicolor along with the silhouette of a police officer that is unmistakably him. The word “Hope” has been written over and over again in a sort of chain link, winding around the badge and silhouette. The telltale signature of Eden is found in the bottom right corner.

His phone vibrates in his hand once more, and he looks down quickly to see another message from you.

[08:03] you: so what do you think of my art exhibit, sarge?

A smile blooms on his face as the corners of his lips tilt upwards, and he swiftly taps out a response and presses send, his heart nearly thudding out of his chest.

[08:04] hoseok: it’s beautiful

[08:04] hoseok: but not as beautiful as the artist ♡

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

  DELETED B99 INSPIRED SCENE:

Investigation: noise by the door Filed By: Jung Hoseok Persons of Interest: Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi Time: 02:43 A.M., during the collection of _______’s initial statement Place: Bangtan Police Precinct

“I heard Tae and Jimin caught an uncooperative witness for the car accident,” Seokjin casually says, lounging in the chair placed in front of Yoongi’s desk.

The lieutenant makes a noncommittal noise as he continues to peruse the files laid out in front of him. However, the somewhat noisy entry of two people causes him to look up. He catches your eye with a steely look, and he holds back a smile when he notices you sidle up closer to Hoseok almost instantaneously afterwards. The door clicks shut behind you and Hoseok, who had swiped a notepad and pen off his desk, and immediately, he and Jin speed walk quietly to said door.

“If the interrogation doesn’t go well, I have my guitar in the locker room. I can do the scream-and-strum strategy to make the witness crack,” Jin whispers, and Yoongi glowers and shakes his head vehemently.

“That didn’t work the first two times I let you do that. I’m not letting you try a third time.”

“Oh, c’mon, the third time’s the charm,” Seokjin whines and bangs his fist against the top of the file cabinet for emphasis. Immediately, he and Yoongi freezes at the realization of what he has done.

“Retreat,” Yoongi hisses, and the two of them make a run for it back to his office as noiselessly as possible. Jin shuts the door behind them as they huff and puff, bent over with their hands on their knees.

“Oh, man,” wheezes Seokjin as he collapses into the same chair from before. “Thank god I don’t have to take the physical again.”

Yoongi grunts in agreement. “I should probably lay off on the doughnuts.”

[sweetestt-devottionn]

Hug Me

AN: This was inspired by a fic that i read before hope u enjoy it! sorry for any grammar mistakes english isn’t my first language, i’m open to criticism tho:)

==========

It seems like yesterday I was happy with nothing. Today, I make a wish to the moon. I told her if I can see you once again, I'll do one last dance with you to this song.

To remember you forever,

Just one last dance...

==========

Have you ever heard the word 'breathless'?

It has different meaning of its own if you put it in different use. One could describe the meaning of extreme surprise where you just froze in your spot, mouth hung agape as you look at the most precious thing in you possession in awe.

It truly was a wonderful description to appreciate such blessings.

Yet, in another meaning, one that you make sense of literally, has such a different effect, with a stark contrast between light and darkness, akin of a nightmare in the middle of a day dream.

==========

Breathless

[breth-lis]

1. without breath or breathing with difficulty; gasping; panting:

2. dead; lifeless.

==========

Everything happened so fast. One moment she was just standing there in her comfy clothes, casually washing the dishes then the next moment. She saw her lying on the floor as the plate she was holding dropped and shattered against the hard wood floor. It might be just at the spur of the moment, where she exists and everything fell apart. She was rooted to the spot, head staying on the same spot her love used to stand just moments ago. Slowly, but surely everything came rushing back, like a river current overcoming any hindrance. Her hands were shaking when she finally got control of her body.

"LISA!" She screamed then, heart gripped with the panic brewing inside her at seeing her lover so frail, surrounded with the broken glass scattered around her body. She was shaken with pity that at such a tragic misery her love was still attention's sweet centre. Painted was the tragically beautiful story of their journey, started with her world brushed with dark muddy colours.

“oh mygod ohmygod,”

Jisoo swore she never ran so fast in her life.

In the blink of an eye, she was holding her lover's head on her lap as her fingers fumbled with her phone, the trembling digits struggling to call 9-1-1.

"I need your help please... She fainted....I-" That was the last thing Lisa heard as the black spots on her vision finally swallowed her whole. When the last sigh left her lips, her body became slack.

And that,

was the night everything changed.

==========

The trip to the hospital was not one on her favourite list of trips but, at seeing her lover sudden decline of health, she wondered just how long it would take for the ambulance to reach the hospital. She sighed over and over again as she held Lisa’s hand close and kissed each of her knuckles.

She choked back a sob as her eyes welled with tears and the state Lisa was in. Oxygen mask covered her face, and somehow in the span of minutes she had only just noticed how pale and gaunt her love actually is, a drastic difference to her usually fair and healthy body. She cursed herself, hating the fact that she had failed to see the symptoms that might have had explained the ongoing situation.

“I’m sorry baby, I should have looked after you better and stayed home more, fuck I’m- I’m fucking sorry I shouldn’t have I-,” Her speech was cut off due to the sob threatening to burst out.

“pl-please just wake u-up please…”

It may seem unusual for those close to her but,

She prayed that night.

To whatever gods there are out there, she just hoped they’d listened.

When the sound of cars honking filled her hearing and the pounding of her heart reverberated throughout her body, she closed her lids tightly. Lips mouthing an inaudible prayer as tears welled in her eyes. She held her lover's hand a little tighter, yet somehow, she still refused to cry.

‘Me and my pride’ she muses.

She refrained herself to believe anything but her lover being okay again.

She had to be okay..

She just had to...

==========

The short trip to the hospital turned out to be a long one. The seconds and the minutes turned into hours as she waited outside the ER. She paced back and forth for she knew that there was something wrong, though she refused to believe it. Realising she might have to tell Chaeyoung, she steeled herself against the obvious thunderstorm and pressed call.

It doesn’t take long for the said best friend/ sister to pick up, and for some reason she felt guilty, like it was somehow her fault when the first hello filtered through the phone.

“Jisoo unnie? Are you there?”

“Umm… Chaeng, I-I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what just happened I-“

“Unnie? Please calm down, what happened? Is Lisa okay?”

“She-“

“She’s just been admitted to the hospital, Chaeyoung-ah…”

“WHAT?! JENNIE WE NEED TO GO NOW!”

“Chaeng- I..” She tried to say when the phone beeps, indicating the end of the call.

They came 15 minutes after she hang up their call, appearance so dishevelled some might think they’re some kind of a hobo.

“Is she okay?” Jennie asked as Chaeyoung was currently feeling too wrecked to even function.

“I- I don’t know , Jen.. One minute she was standing and the next she was suddenly on the floor unconscious.” She explained as her hands swung wildly in her manic.

Jennie said nothing but pulled Jisoo into a tight hug in which she immediately melt into, followed by Chaeyoung as the three of them relied on each other for the comfort they badly needed at the moment.

Their million questions were finally answered another hour later. In midst of her mini panic, the doctor handling Lisa's case came out of the room and approached her jittery self.

"I'm sorry...”

That was all Jisoo needed to hear to know that, she was not okay, her lover never was. She knew, Lisa knew that she didn't have much time left and yet, she still smiled and act that bubbly personality of hers. Always unyielding, always without flaw, not even once.

A gasp was heard, yet she couldn’t care less.

Jisoo pondered, just when did Lisa became such a good liar?

"I hate you so much..." She sobbed as her back slid against the white hospital wall. Its horror and constant dullness that painted her peripheral stayed unflinching. Leaving her, to fend for herself after the heart wrenching news that might just destroyed every good thing she had left in her life.

‘such a tragic life of a dreamer’’Such a pity’

I wonder Lisa,

I do wonder...

==========

Jisoo spent a restless night back at home. She laid on her side of the bed and took in the unusual coldness of her own personal sanctuary. Her stare resided on the empty right side of her bed. The golden sparks in her eyes had faded hours ago, only the remnants of it stayed. It had turned tedious brown in its departure.

She breathed deep, trying to remember her scent. Truth to be told, it had been hard for her to leave her love alone on the hospital bed, but she was not one to defy doctor's order. Though she really gave the nurses a run for their money when they need to forcefully dragged her away from her lover's limp body.

She decided then, she should have fought against their grasps harder, for Lisa was worth every struggle.

Every. Single. One.

==========

Days passed in a blur after the news. It was broadcasted on their social media accounts that they will be taking a long hiatus with the reasons unknown. It sure did cause an uproar in their fandom with their seemingly abrupt disappearance but in the end they couldn’t do anything but to accept their idols’ decision.

Realising the ticking time that was eating away her love’s life, Jisoo brought her everywhere her heart wished for. Her heart clenched every time she saw Lisa's face light up when she brought her to places she had never been before, knowing any moment now could be her last.

She smiled bitterly at that. Her time was limited and she was fucking desperate for any kind of miracle. She prayed every night, for something, anything, to happen.

Because she would give it all just for her to be okay again. That way, they would be able to do the future they had planned out together. In their future, they would be living in a 2 storey mansion with Dalgomie, Leo, Luca and 4 kids running around the house. They would grow old together, wasting their time watching the sunset every evening with a warm cup of tea.

Fate always said otherwise, because the one time she actually found someone who loved her for her. They took her away from Jisoo.

Even sometimes, love was not enough...

==========

It was another cold evening on the midst of December. The couple was snuggling on the couch just enjoying each other's warmth. Jennie and Chaeyoung were out, buying food for their dinner. No words were spoken, though the comfortable silence of the empty dorm was broken when Lisa called out to Jisoo.

"Jisoo?" Lisa asked quietly, head laying slack against Jisoo's chest.

"Hmm?" She responded, hand moving to stroke Lisa's hair gently.

"Can we sing right now?"

Her hand stilled from her movement as she looked down at her. Usually, Jisoo would have laughed at the random request but the look on Lisa's face, left her stunned. Absentmindedly, Jisoo started to sing one of her favourite song, Long Live.

It really was ironic.

"I said remember this moment

In the back of my mind...” She started, voice wavering a bit.

She was shaken out of her reverie when Lisa suddenly sat up and started pulling at her hands, urging her to stand with her.

“The time we stood with our shaking hands

The crowds in stands went wild

We were the kings and the queens

And they read off our names

The night you danced like you knew our lives

Would never be the same ..."

At this point, they were both dancing around in their apartment, not caring about what would happen in the future. Live in the now they said.

“You held your head like a hero...”

Lisa sang, voice sounding off key but none of them care anyways. She crossed her arms and posed as superman pretending to be showing her ‘spectacular biceps’ that had become bony and last muscular over the past few months. She nodded her head at Jisoo cueing at her to sing the next lines.

"On a history book page

It was the end of a decade

But the start of an age..."

Jisoo stayed quiet and instead, she only looked at her funnily. Lisa had no choice but to continue singing with a grumpy voice.

"Come on CHICHU!! I SAID ONE, TWO, THREE... SING WITH ME!!" She held out her hand between them as if to share the microphone for the both of them.

"Long live the walls we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made"

And bring on all the pretenders

One day we will be remembered...”

This time Jisoo did join the fun, screaming with her lover as they belted out the lyrics. They might just sound like dying whale and the neighbours would surely filled out a noise complaint but seriously, they could careless right now. No headlines, no media, no worries. Just Jisoo and Lisa singing off key in their penthouse apartment.

"I said remember this feeling

I passed the pictures around

Of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines

Wishing for right now..."

Lisa continued as she looked at Jisoo and pulled on a funny face, successfully bringing a long overdue smile on her girlfriend's face.

"We are the kings and the queens

You traded your baseball cap for a crown..."

Jisoo gestured to Lisa's head as if to put on an imaginary crown on her. Lisa smiled at the gesture and did an over exaggerated curtsy before standing up straight to urged Jisoo to keep singing as she swayed from left to right, doing some weird dancing of her own.

"When they gave us our trophies

And we held them up for our town

And the cynics were outraged

Screaming, "This is absurd"

'Cause for a moment a band of thieves in ripped up jeans got to rule the world..."

Jisoo belted the lyrics as she knelt on the floor like a rock star. Lisa was having the time of her life as she rolled down on the floor laughing her ass off.

"Love live the wall we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made"

And bring on all the pretenders..." Jisoo sang loudly.

I'm not afraid," Lisa continued with a big grin on her face.

"Long live all the mountains we move

I had the time of my life

Fighting dragons with you

I was screaming, "Long live the look on your face"

And bring on all the pretenders

One day we will be remembered

Hold on to spinning around

Confetti falls to the ground

May these memories break our fall..."

Jisoo actually sang beautifully this time, giving it her all as she pour her heart for their impromptu Lichu-karaoke session. As she opened her mouth to sing the next stanza, Lisa had already beaten her to it.

"Will you take a moment,

promise me this...

That you'll stand by me forever

But if God forbid fate should step in,

And force us into a goodbye..."

Lisa sang the lines softly to Jisoo as she put her hand over her heart as tears welled in her eyes.

"If you have children someday

When they point to the pictures,

Please tell them my name..."

Her voice cracked as she sang it, knowing the reality of it all. Jisoo rushed to comfort her but one hand motion from Lisa and another plea of "I'm okay," left her with no choice but to continue the song.

"Tell them how the crowds went wild

Tell them how I hope they shine

Long live the walls we crashed through

I had the time of my life, with you...”

Jisoo presented Lisa with a teary smile as she pointed her fingers at her. She furiously wiped her tears away, and when she belted the next line, she was determined to end this in a good note.

All smiles no frowns.

"Long, long live the walls we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

And I was screaming, "long live all the magic we made"

And bring on all the pretenders

I'm not afraid..." She sang as she put on a brave face and a salute at Lisa, getting a smile out in return. Jisoo gave her a signal and they sang the last lines together.

"Singing long live all the mountains we moved

I had the time of my life

Fighting dragons with you

And long, long live the look on your face

And bring on all the pretenders

One day, we will be remembered..."

They finished the song quickly and enveloped each other in a tight embrace, tears still streaming down their faces.

"Long live us...” Jisoo whispered against her head.

"Long live you...” She added with a smile, before pressing a light kiss on Lisa’s forehead.

You will be remembered...

==========

Lisa did last longer than expected as she somehow managed to get past through her birthday and Jisoo's. Though another incident might have barraged their way at her.

On the morning after Jisoo's birthday, Lisa had stupidly fell off her bed. But that, was not the problem. It was the excruciating pain that followed after that. She swore she had never screamed so loud in her life.

Hearing her screams, Jisoo bolted upstairs towards their shared bedroom. Fingers fumbling with her phone ready to call 9-1-1.

This was giving her a sense of déjà vu. Added with the fact that in dire times like this, Jennie and Chaeng always seemed to be away at an important meeting with their management, leaving Jisoo alone to deal with a crying Lisa.

Seeing her Lisa laying helplessly on the floor, screaming her head off, Jisoo panic level accelerate to 100 real quick. She knelt down beside the whimpering girl and wafted her hand through her hair, while whispering sweet nothings to soothe her pain.

"You're gonna be okay, baby.."

You will,

You have to...

==========

"She fell the wrong way, Chaeyoung. I've said this to you a million times. Why won't you believe me?" Jisoo hissed at Chaeyoung as they walked down the hospital halls to Lisa's room. She was being prepped for immediate surgery because apparently her stupid fall could possibly cause paralysis. Stupid bed and stupid floor, she had said.

"Wow unnie , Okay I believe you, but seriously you need to chill. You're basically on fire right now.." Chaeyoung tread carefully, afraid to get Jisoo madder than she already was.

"You're dealing with this better than I ever was Chaeng. How are you okay with her dying?" She ranted, frustrated.

"I'm not, and I never will be okay with her dying, so don't even try to say that. But, do you know what makes me strong unnie? It was her wish. She personally told me that she wanted her last days to be full of smiles, not tears; not frowns. So I tried, I really tried my best every day to keep the smile on my face, to keep the happy thoughts on my head as if she wasn't dying. I had to respect her wish. I had to, unnie..." Chaeyoung confessed as she blinked rapidly to avoid the tears from falling, knowing Lisa would caught up with her act once she saw a faint tear marks on her face.

"I'm sorry Chaeyoung-ah, I-I didn't know,"

"It's okay unnie, please just trust me on this. You need to respect her wish too okay?"

"All smiles?"

"All smiles."

==========

It had not been great.

Lisa was paralysed from the waist down. But she had not reacted poorly. She had taken a moment of silence after the news, both her lover and best friends looking at her expectantly, gauging her reaction. What happened next was not expected by the both of them.

With a defeated sigh, Lisa had looked back up towards the doctor and asked a simple question.

"Can I go back home now?"

The meaning behind her words were clear, she didn't want to talk about it and it was to be expected. Yet, that split moment when she looked at Jisoo at the word 'home', really messed with Chaeyoung's emotion. She had lived, knowing that her best friend and sister had found her home. A place for her to belong, yet, it was wretched from her grasp just after she found it.

Home…

Lost.

==========

Today was the day the two brotp? finally get to hang out. Though, Jennie realised she should have done this sooner. She had immediately became fast friends with Lisa after their first meeting with each other during their trainee days. She had said, the only reason they got along so well was because their ‘stupid aegyo tendencies and annoyingly cute gummy smiles ’ cheers to Jennie for that. She knew her gummy smiles are valuable winning weapon. So to speak, with their fast growing friendship and what not, this news had truly affected Jennie deeply.

They were strolling around the central park, not a lot of people were in sight which was a plus to the both of them.

"Jennie, if you didn't stop thinking, smoke might came out of your head any time now," Lisa suddenly said, causing her to pause in her movement.

"Shut it Manoban, or do I have to hit you to do so?" Jennie clapped back at her best friend who now appeared offended. She put a dramatic hand over her chest and said.

"Really? You'll hit a cripple? WHERE ARE YOUR MORALS?"

"Where yours are?" Jennie sassed.

"Shit, let me call Satan. He has them. Along with my list of fucks I do not give."

"Oh please, SOMEONE PLEASE GET THIS GIRL SHE'S ANNOYING ME," Jennie was all but shout.

"Watch it Nini or I'll tell Chaengie about your behaviour."

"You are such a tattle-teller, you b*tch. You disgust me," Jennie said in her best Kim-Kardashian-accent as she flipped her hair to get her point across.

"My energy should not be wasted talking to you, move along please I need to get my ice cream," Lisa commanded from her wheelchair bossily.

"You're lucky you're cute or else I would've left you somewhere," Jennie complained as she grudgingly started to push the wheelchair to the ice cream shop.

==========

Miracles do happen, sadly it didn't always last.

==========

Lisa knew her time was coming, knowing she had outlived the doctor's predictions; this was bound to happen anytime soon. It was a little after the New Year. She was being woken up, with severe chest pains. She screamed which immediately woke Jisoo up.

"Lisa baby, what's wrong?" She asked soothingly, trying to keep the panic from her voice.

Jisoo didn't get an answer from Lisa except for her occasional whimpers which caused her to curl further into herself, hoping to make the pain stop.

She knew her time was coming,

But she sure as heck was not ready for it.

==========

Lisa was hooked to a ventilator that night, her lungs had failed her and she didn't expect any less. Seeing her lover so fragile against the hospital bed, Jisoo made a beeline to the chair beside the bed and held her sleeping hand tightly.

She leaned her head closer to the bed and rests it at the edge of the pillow. It might have been an uncomfortable position but she wanted to, she need, to remember her.

I don't want to forget...

Right before she continued her restless slumber, Jisoo hummed sotto voce. She sang a song very dear to her as a prayer, and God, she did hope Lisa would listen close in her slumber.

“Please stay by my side,

Please stay with me..

Please don't let go of me, the one who's holding your hand...

I love you,

I love you...

In the long silence, a sound comes, screaming

From my foolish and weak heart..."

==========

The goodbye was the hardest.

==========

Lisa was looking at Jisoo as best as she could through her half lidded eyes. She could she the hudled figures of her best friends standing on the other side of her hospital bed. God, she was so tired, and she had long accepted her fate. She stared at Jisoo with any adoration she could muster and smiled weakly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She suddenly said, breaking Jisoo out of her trance.

"I want to remember you."

"Don't do this to yourself baby, please"

"I- I can't Lice, please I can't forget you. I don't want you to go. I LOVE YOU! Why is that not enough?" She sobbed as she desperately cling to her hospital gown to discard any possible distance between the two of them.

"It doesn't matter if I'm not physically beside you, unnie. Please don't cry, love, I'll look after you from the sky. You won't forget me because I'm here with you. I stayed in your heart. I'll visit you in your dreams, there you can relinquish all your joys and sorrows to me. You'll remember me, just like the way my heart will call out to you in the after life..."

"I love you, Lice. I'd give it all just for one more day with you..."

"Don't dwell- on your sadness please, all smiles, okay?" Lisa had to stop in between words to catch her breath as her lungs started failing on her.

“Unnie, if it is time for me to go, can you take care of Jisoo unnie for me?”

Lisa never said it to anyone  in particular neither Jennie or Chaeyoung, but the message was clear. They responded with a tight squeeze on her arm and a teary smile.

Their last moments together were spent with Jisoo brushing the remnants of Lisa hazel brown hair, as they enjoyed the silence that sang lullabies for those in passing. It wasn’t long when the silence was broken by none other than Lisa.

"Can I get one last kiss before I go to sleep, Chu?"

“Anything for you love,” Jisoo smiled a bittersweet smile through her red eyes and puffy cheeks before leaning in as they lips met in passion.

So desperately, trying to make it a kiss, one could remember forever.

"Sing for me please, Chichu…" Lisa whispered her last wish. She moved her body a little bit as she sagged against the hospital bed, eyes fluttering close.

"Hallelujah,

You were an angel in the shape of my love

When I fell down you'll be there holding me up

Spread your wings as you go...

And when God takes you back,

He'll say, "Hallelujah, you're home."

Jisoo wait until her breathing became no more, before she stopped. With one last cold kiss to the lips, Jisoo muttered her prayer against her skin.

"In peace may you leave the shore;

In love may you find the next.

Safe passage on your travel," Jisoo finished and wipe her tears away. She leaned her face closer to Lisa's and mumbled against her lips.

"May we meet again, Lisa..."

==========

It was nothing special, another day, another time, another dawn. They recalled that time when a young Lisa Manoban swore that when she died she would do it in such honour, with lots of people crying for her.

They had laughed it off then, saying that she wasn’t even close to a hero or a president. It was a stupid dream to begin with.

Lalisa Manoban didn’t die in such great honour, she didn’t die with the sound of trumpet and manmade tears marring people’s face as they pretend to show empathy to the fallen grace.

She died, on a normal Wednesday afternoon, with 3 of the brightest stars in her life, and I guessed for her,

It was more than enough.

==========

"One last kiss to a cold lips, to seal the prayer."

==========

[kfawkes]

The Sound of Silence - [Eggsy Unwin x Reader]

[Hi there! Thanks so much! As always I like to mention how bad I suck and how slow I am lol. SO hope you see this my lovely anon!!! <3 I changed this JUST a bit from the the fight being at the shop instead of the mission because thats sort of just what happened, so I hope you enjoy the slight change :)

Pairing: Eggsy x Reader -- After TGC tech with a little fix it for Tilde ;) (NO HATE K XD)

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Angst, cursing. ;)

---Read on Ao3!]

The ride back to HQ was quite... too fucking quite. So quiet you could almost hear the imaginary crickets tenacious chirping from inside your mind around you. Singing their sad song of awkward confusion and they weren’t letting up.

The air was thick and everything felt off because you and Eggsy never had these kinds of moments... Ever. And you’d spent a lot of time with the man so that was saying something. But now you were having one and it just felt so... wrong.

It had only been about 40 minutes which granted wasn’t very long in the grand scheme of things, and really you did know that... but the weight still hung heavily and made time pass slowly as if hours trickled by instead.

More painfully slow minutes slid by and still Eggsy didn’t say a thing... Not one single word. He wouldn’t even fucking look at you and that made your blood almost boil.

Except, could you really be upset by his behavior when you sort of knew why he was acting that way? The answer was no you really couldn’t, because if the situation had been reversed you’d have chewed him out into next week already.

But the situation wasn't reversed and even though you knew his actions justified, it bothered you. Maybe you could keep that annoyance at bay before, but it was going on an hour now and even you had your limits.

Before you were fine maybe-- at least as fine as you could be, but this was getting a little ridiculous.

You weren’t going to deal with it a second longer and now the thought of talking to him was the last thing you wanted to do. It didn’t even matter that you didn’t really have a reason to be mad at him... you just were.

It probably had something to do with the long hours and the lack of food. Okay, it definitely did and there was even a part of you that knew you were overreacting...

But overreacting or not, as soon as you reached the Tailor shop you left without even muttering a goodbye.

At first you didn’t know where you’d go... Maybe you’d get some food or perhaps you’d head home to take a nice long nap. Or, alternatively you could go be weird and press your nose to the used books at Hemming’s...

You opted for the less rational of all choices-- but of course you did, and made your way to the bookstore. The walk to Hemming’s was much longer today than it was most days.

Longer and filled with a bit more disappointment than usual. How silly it was to be aching for someone that wasn't even yours...

You liked Eggsy if that wasn’t obvious... far more than you should, which was probably why you were overreacting now that you thought about it. But it was nothing... nothing serious anyway. He was your best friend and your partner; nothing more, nothing less and honestly you were okay with that.

Most people would find it hard to be just friends with someone they were in love with, and yeah some days were worse than others, but for you it sure as shit beat not having him at all. You might not have liked seeing him with Tilde, but Eggsy was happy and that mattered more than anything else.

As you stroll the aisles of that old shop, you ran your fingers along the backs of the books thinking about the day he’d broken things off with her. It pained you to admit it, but you were honestly relieved when he'd broken off their proposal. It was a little hard to see him as a price truthfully, especially with how much he loved Kingsman...

But it was more than that and you knew it. It wasn't that you didn’t like Tilde... she was wonderful. One of the nicest people you’d ever met actually which only made you feel worse about being in love with her boyfriend, but even though she made Eggsy happy; you could see that something wasn’t right there.

That something was missing... there just wasn’t a spark.

What did you really know though? You’d never really felt that spark with anyone either had you?

Whether you’d made it up or not didn’t matter because they weren't together anymore and as much as it sucked to admit; you really were happy about that... and you realized now that you really were in love with him.

If all of todays events weren't proof enough, your lack of control on emotions was.

Can't believe this... in love with Eg-- you’ve got to be fucking shitting me.

You stopped on a particularly old book with breath more hurried than necessary. The book you chose had no significance other than its size and discoloration-- and as you slid it from its home, that old scent of paper sept closer. The pages slid open lightly and you pressed your nose to the center of the binding taking a deep breath in as you closed your eyes, pushing those thoughts away.

That familiar scent surrounded you, grounding you immediately. You were still a little peeved, but of course you were... at least you were in a nice quite place where you could think though. Somewhere you could--

“Y/n? You sniffin’ that book..?”

“Eggsy... what the fu-- I’m not... sn... what are you...” You said suddenly, moving your eyes to his as you slammed the book closed; nearly jumping from your skin.

He was standing at the end of the aisle, just... looking at you and still looked angry. Angry and sad, a combination you weren’t a fan of, and even with the strangeness of all that, he didn’t even crack a smile.

“What’s your problem?” You asked suddenly, and maybe a little too loudly too if you were being honest, but it wasn’t like you were in a library...

Plus enough time had passed and you knew this fight would happen one way or another, so you may as well get it over with right?

“What’s my problem?” the expression he wore could only be described as pure shock and even in his pale confusion, he was beautiful.

Eggsy looked away from you then, letting a small scoff release as he scanned the books beside him without noting a word he read. He took in a deep breath as he shake his head lightly, placing his tongue along the bottom of his teeth in thought. “That’s pretty rich comin’ from you, ain’t it?”

“Wh-what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” and really, just what the fuck?

When he said that you felt a wave of anxiety pushing its needles into your skin with persistence. Suddenly you were embarrassed now, and for some reason you just wanted to cry... alright you knew the reason, but you didn't like it. It was stupid and you hated that quality about yourself, but pretty much anytime things got a little -- well, like this, you sort of shut down and started crying.

At least since Kingsman you’ve been a bit better at controlling it... right?

Maybe not... So you still didn’t offer a reply. You just watched.

“So... you just know nothin’ bout it then?” Eggsy’s voice was raising a bit as he pointed at you with behind lowered brows. “Got no idea why I’m actin’ like this too I s’pose?”

You didn’t know what to say so you just crossed your arms and shook your head lightly cause really... you weren't sure.

Okay, that wasn’t entire true... you were pretty sure he was pissed about the mission. But you didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him, so continued not offering one at all.

“What the fuck was that back there, y/n?” Eggsy’s voice was raised higher now as he step forward, his eyes burned like coals and his chest was raising and falling so quickly you wondered how he was breathing at all.

Watching this only made you more anxious of course, but it was hard to look away at the same time. It made you more upset too if you were being honest, even though you really didn’t have a right to be...

Your plan back there was a little stupid and yes calling it ‘stupid’ was putting it rather lightly. It was more like fucking insane and it literally almost killed you, but... well, it didn't.

Your plan worked-- got the job done. You were fine, Eggsy was fine... the target was neutralized... So, couldn't you just move past it all? Couldn't you just skip to the part where you watched a crap movie at his place?

The look Eggsy still held answered your question though: He was absolutely not in the take out and action flick mood... No, he was in more of an ‘act like your parent’ mood it seemed, and honestly you were sick of it.

Maybe not sick of it exactly, but you were tired of him treating you like you couldn’t take care of yourself... You may have liked how protective he was but come on, you were an agent too-- so why did he had to make such a big deal about it?

Eggsy took a step closer, his teeth were clenched together so tightly you could see the muscles in his face pulling angrily. His lips were pursed together, locked in place and he was only a few inches from your face now.

This was probably the closest he’d ever been to you actually, and even though he was clearly upset, it didn’t change the feeling that spread around you. And when you scanned the intensity of his face you almost forgot where you were entirely; getting lost in the sea of his eyes.

Seeing him all worked up was actually kind of hot... until you remembered the part where it was your fault.

“I... don't--” You started with hesitation, but didn’t make it far. When nothing else attempted release, you shook your head again looking to your feet with a shrug. “I don’t know what you want me to say.... It worked out alright, Eggsy... Everything is--”

“Are you takin’ a bloody piss.” he interrupted you, and it was a question... technically.

It was obvious he wasn’t impressed as he looked down at you from his full hight; his breath fanning across your neck in soft waves, sending chills across every surface, and you felt yourself almost pulling closer towards him...

“What do you want from me?” You asked lightly, “I made a choice. I did what had to be done, and if you don’t like it then... I don’t know what to tell you. This is how I do things-- this... It’s our job to make sure the mission get’s finished. No matter what.”

“Cut the bullshit would ya?” Eggsy’s azure eyes were still dark, and pained. He shoved a hand through the mess of his hair as he exhaled tiredly, starting only a hair lighter than before. “You nearly got yourself killed, an you jus expect me t’sit round and say nothin’ bout it? Ain’t gonna happen-- ever. Cause it was fuckin mental what you did. You com--”

“You don’t get to talk to me about making bad decisions alright, Eggsy? You’re the fucking expert on making bad decisions-- you’re impulsive as fuck, you don’t think about anything before you do it, yet you’re scolding me for doing what it takes? Where the fuck do you get off?” and when you said it, you wished you hadn’t... You stopped sharply almost feeling the pain as if it were your own.

Why you always got mean when you were defensive was beyond you, but you were pretty sure you'd learned about that in some psych class before... The bottom line however wasn’t why you were a bitch, it was that Eggsy didn’t deserve it.

No one deserved it really, but least of all Eggsy. Note to self: work on that.

Immediately he pulled his face in, a thick sadness spread like liquid over his face as his lips parted and his eyes danced between your own. “So that’s what you think of me...”

“N-no. It’s not.” You crossed your arms again looking away, feeling more embarrassed now than you had before. Which 5 minutes ago you wouldn’t have thought possible. “Really...”

You didn’t even notice those watching from between the books until now... but you hardly cared, and hoped at least they were enjoying the show.

“But, Eggsy, it’s... you can’t just-- try to stop me from doing my job just  because you don't like the way I’m doing it.”

“So I’m just s’posed to watch the girl I love get herself killed then, yeah?”

When he said that, the whole room went still.

Your eyes widened further as your lips parted, releasing a soft breath of near awe. He looked away from you then, shifting his gaze to his feet as he pulled a hand to rub at his temple anxiously.

“That’s not... I don’t mean...” Eggsy stopped again, taking in a deep breath as he run his tongue across his lips softly; pulling them between his teeth.

You still hadn’t said a word, because honestly you were so shocked you weren’t sure if you’d just made it up or not and clearly talking wasn't your strong suit today.

“You ain’t gonna have t’remind me again... I’m goin’.”

And still... you didn’t say a thing.

Even though you seriously had been dreaming of a moment like this since you first laid eyes on him... Even though there was nothing more you wanted than him.

You watched as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, then turned to leave... you watched as he walked slowly away and disappeared around the corner of the aisle...

And still... you did nothing.

You just stood there, until all of a sudden the sounds of the store came back into focus, and you realized it wasn’t just some late night fantasy. He’d really just told you he loved you...

Eggsy he... he loved you and he was walking away. You had to... go.

Fucking go!

Suddenly you moved forward, that voice pulled you quickly, shoving you after him and honestly you were nearly running.

At first you couldn’t see him, and you were scared because you just needed him to know that you were sorry, that you really should be more careful... but mostly you needed him to know that you understood, finally. You understood and you loved him too.

You thought maybe it was too late, that he’d left... But then you saw him again and he looked so fucking sad and beautiful you could honestly cry.

He was up by the door already, but you pushed forward pressing passed anyone in your way with ease. You reached Eggsy just seconds before he could press his hands to the door, and you felt relief spread from your place of contact like a shot to the arm.

You grabbed his arm softly, stopping him in place and in one solid motion you pressed into him, sliding your hands to the sides of his face like you’d done it a thousand times before. And you kissed him... softly at first, but as the seconds went on each press was more ardent than the last and it was pure perfection.

There weren’t many words adequate enough to describe how his lips felt across yours... but if you had to name a few, ‘incredible’ would be among them.

It felt like somehow you’d just been waiting for this. For this moment right here...

Like you’d been waiting for him and you realized this was it.

The spark.

[lalast0ne]

A Blacksoul Tale

A story written by Layla & Wilder

On a snowy night, the train left the station.....destination Canada. The steady rock and roll motion on the tracks had the passengers fast asleep through the night. The conductor dozed, waking to a sea of fog and the realization he was off course, on another set of tracks heading straight into the middle of nowhere.  

At the far back of the train, in the very last car, a couple in distress were currently non the wiser that the train was off course. Sleep eludes them; the man paces within the confines of the narrow aisle while the woman concentrates on her breathing, panting as she’d been taught. Her water had broken a little over an hour ago but they currently can’t go anywhere. The train was holding them hostage, unknowingly.  

Each mile passed by at a painstakingly slow speed. Each rock on the tracks had her rolling in pain. She looked out the window and did a double take, panic taking hold on her as her surroundings finally registered. She’d made this trip enough times to know that the train was not on its usual route.....that this train was not going to Canada.

Feeling helpless and unable to stand seeing his wife in so much pain, the husband steps away to find help of any kind. Making his way through the cars, he passes two or maybe three people, who somehow manage to remain asleep, with the sole goal of making his way to the conductor. He needed the train to stop and he needed help; they needed help. 

One way or another his wife needed to get off this train because, three weeks ahead of schedule, the baby was coming. He growled as he heard her screams of pain and looked back over his shoulder to see her rise from her seat and begin pacing the aisle that he himself had been walking only moments ago.

At 21 years of age, this was not how Margot Carson envisioned she’d welcome her first, and definitely only, child into the world.  The notion of a quick and painless birth were well and truly out of the window. Her fingers turned white as she held onto the head rest of the seats either side of her for support, she gritted her teeth and groaned as another intense pain gripped her stomach. No one had warned her that the pain would be this unbearable and in this moment she couldn’t imagine why any woman would do this more than once. 

Taking a deep breath she peeled her eyes opened and watched as her husband approached; no conductor in tow and no miracle doctor traipsing behind him who’d be able to help. His shoulders were up around his ears and panic written all over his face. He had no clue how to help her, why should he? He’d never experienced this before either, but he’s continued asking her what he could do to help was becoming frustrating. 

He reached her with an apologetic look, unable to offer any words of comfort or reassurance that help was on the way. Help wasn’t coming. Instead he brushed her hair from her face and cupped her cheek affectionately. They’d get thru this together, like any team of husband and wife should. Taking her hand as another contraction began to build, he rubbed the base of her back whispering words of encouragement and love. 

The train began to pick up speed once more, which surely was a good thing, the thick cloud of fog giving way to snow. It wasn’t uncommon this time of year for snow to be falling, it was winter after all.

Margot looked out the carriage window then turned to smile at her husband. A moments peace settled between them. She’d always loved the snow and how beautiful it had the ability to make the ugliest landscape look ... and just as she was about to remind Dwayne of that, chaos ensued. 

The howling screech of the brakes along the snowy rails broke the calm that had momentarily descended between the young married couple. Their worlds were turned on their sides, quite literally, along with the train, finally bringing their journey to a stop. Safety now came in surviving outside the confines of the car. In the snow. On this winter night. 

Dwayne scrambled to help Margot, the blood dripping down the side of his face from the gash above his eyebrow. Margot in even more pain and not just from the baby, began to crawl towards her husband, crying out every time she put pressure on her right knee. Once reconnected, both began to crawl towards the freezing air to freedom. Unconcerned with anyone other than themselves right now and their baby. 

The cold air entered their lungs and froze Dwight and Margot bone deep. Adrenaline couldn’t even stop their bodies from shaking. No one else exited the train. They were alone.....two soon to become three. The snow their blanket. Cold the enemy. Water moved beside them, slow like molasses. Almost frozen. 

Margot’s contractions were rolling fast. Heart rates escalating. In the distance, the sky was coming to life. Black standing back as shades of yellow and pink took center stage. The realization they were in the middle of nowhere hit as hard as the train crashed. Fast and without warning. 

Like a storm passing overhead, winds picked up, snow blurring their vision. Margot gripping Dwight, her lifeline in this battle. Metal gleams in the air, a slice through the air. Again and again. The bleak color of winter, glows red like Christmas. 

The only noise that breaks free is a babies cry. A baby born, a new life beginning as two were cut short. Life flowing through the babies heart. Alone on the rivers edge.

She turns the pages of the photo album, her fingers tracing the faces of those people in the pictures that are protected by the clear plastic. Her family. Not her blood family; she’d never met those, but the family who had taken her into their home when she was a baby, who’d raised her like their other children and who loved her like she was one of their own. 

As the years had passed, her sisters and brothers had moved away. Each one creating their own families, while she remained in the family home. Her adoptive parents had long since passed away and without them there, visits from her siblings became few and far between until they’d become non existent.  

The end of the year always had her looking at pictures, reminiscing and reflecting on her life; life back then when she’d been young and life now. Reflecting on how much had changed in her lifetime .. how much the town had changed in her lifetime. 

The what if’s dance around in her head until she turns the page and comes face to face with her biggest regret. Even though the picture is close to 50 years old, he still has the ability to cause the butterflies in her stomach to take flight. The love of her life who she let walk away. All because she was too stubborn to leave the only place she’d ever known. She’d had ambitions and dreams, all of which revolved around this town. He’d had bigger dreams that had taken him to the city. He’d asked her repeatedly, actually begged her, to go with him. To marry her, to start the family they’d talked about so often, but she couldn’t do it and he’d gone anyway. He’d written to her a few times, given his address and asked her to visit. Only when the letters had dried up did she made the decision to go. She’d packed an overnight back, pocketed her savings and went to him, to her love, to see what all the fuss of the big city was about, to maybe even see if she could life there. 

The journey had been quicker than she expected. The hustle and bustle had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced and after asking a few people for directions she found her destination. She’d waited in the coffee shop across from his apartment, waiting for him to come home so she could surprise him. Watching all the glamorous city woman tottering down the street in their high heels had passed the time and suddenly she wanted to be those women. She wanted to be a part of this life. Of his life. As her thoughts turned to him, as if by magic, he appeared. Stood on the bottom step of his given address, a huge smile on his face. She quickly began to gather her belongings then stopped as he waved at someone. Turning he head in the direction he waved she saw some waving back. Someone glamorous, in a pristine white skirt suit who threw her arms around him excitedly. Frozen to the spot, she could only watch as her one and only disappeared inside with his new love. 

She closed the album and her eyes all at once, a tear sliding down her cheek. Her heart had shattered that day in to a thousand pieces and she’d never let anyone close enough to put the pieces back together. 

Solitude. Loss. Heartbreak. 

Happiness. Love. Laughter.

A town that fell in love with her equally as she fell in love with it. Through her eyes, she had seen changes and things that remained the same. The town falling and thriving. There was no shuffling through this town. You either stayed or left. It infiltrated your soul as it did hers. She may walk the streets alone but she knew its secrets. She’d seen the town change hands through her life, from grandfather to father, then finally a changing of the guard occurred several years ago, to son. A man in black walked her same streets, learning the secrets she alone held. Two old souls, lives years apart but one goal between them.....BlackSoul.

No sides were ever taken, just a mutual understanding silently formed. She knew his secrets just like he knew hers. He knew she was the mistress of the town. Adopted as a baby and brought in as one of their own. Hidden in plain view.

The dark of night had Delores up and pacing her living room. Something was wrong and she felt it all the way to her bones. Her thoughts pulled her to leave the safety of her house. To once again walk the familiar streets. But this time, she veered left. Away from her streets. 

Winter had not be cruel and shown her wrath yet. The river calm and tranquil as the dark faded into evil shades of red. A warning sign. 

Delores turned her back to the town she called home. Arms stretched out, summoning the unknown. A familiar blade slices the air. Only one cry breaks the silence. Red coating his hand. 

77 years passed from birth to death. A circle closed along the banks of the river, her life ending.  Emerging from the shadows, I check for her pulse and slide the blade into my boot. Leaving the river and woods to cover my tracks and death. A mistresses lost breath extinguished.