#at some point between the second and third trip I really had it in my mind I'd drop in on the big half pipe in the second pic

[inbabylontheywept]

go to the caverns, the kartchner caverns, roughly an hour southeast of tucson

in the throne room you shall encounter the great yuan

you must fight him, for it is your destiny

cross the fields of soda-straws and fried-eggs and shields. unleash your fury upon him. there will be those who try to hold you back. they will speak gibberish about your disruption of the delicate balance of the great yuan's domain. you must pay them no heed. you must destroy the great yuan.

we depend on you.

The first time I traveled to Tucson I was in a car full of zooted children. I would've preferred being one of those children, but alas, any medication that makes me sleep also makes me sleepwalk, and after an incident where I tried to climb out of the car while it was still going sixty (thank God for seatbelts) I was condemned to a childhood of car trip sobriety.

(You may think that's not such a terrible fate, but you've probably never experienced anything else. Ambien, used correctly, is time travel. And time travel is awesome.) 

Still, involuntary consciousness had its perks. It meant I alone got to spend some extra quality time with my dad, which was always something in short supply growing up. Until third grade or so he worked in the ER, which gave him an absolutely hellish amount of hours. He'd mostly just come home and sleep, which meant that I personally did not know him that well, but my mom hyped him up so much that I always really wanted to. 

So days like that were always kind of exciting to me. A chance to meet the myth. 

I can't remember exactly what me and my dad were talking about - something to do with our final destination in Mexico. But at some point, we awoke my little brother. 

(Waking people up when they're on ambien is always trouble.)

I remember starting when I felt one of his small cold hands reach up to grab my shoulder. The dad did the same, and it jerked the car a little bit - startling someone whose hands are on the steering wheel has its risks. We both turned to look at him, but he wasn't even looking at us. He was leaning over the console, staring into the red and purple sunset ahead, watching the rolling skyline of Tucson like it was drowning in dreams. Like he was drowning in dreams. 

We waited for him to speak. It took a while. Normal social conventions don't apply to people when they're unconscious. The fact that he could talk was just some broken line code in the fabric of the world. 

"Wow," he said at long last. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" my dad replied. And my little brother shook his head like he just heard the silliest thing in the world. 

"It's terrible," he said."Awful. Is Mexico always like this?" 

"We're still in America" my dad said back. 

My little brother squinted into the sunset, doubt and derision etched into his face. After a few seconds, both emotions softened, and he nodded in wonder. 

"Eagle feathers," he said, chuckling softly. Like he'd just solved some clever little riddle. Then he fell like an angel into something deeper than sleep. 

---

(There is a word for angels that fall.)

---

The second time I went to Tucson, I hid from the sun. 

You'd be surprised how easy it is to do down there. Society accommodates it in ways you just won't find anywhere else. When it's 109 outside with single digit humidity, of course you stay indoors. Of course the outdoor markets open at 6 pm, and of course they don't close until 11. Of course. You make the sun mean enough, and everyone becomes a vampire. 

So I roamed the streets at night, kicking up red gravel, watching coyotes wander in between the sea of strip malls. Strip malls are such an Arizonan atrocity. Nobody builds up. The reason the city isn't walkable isn't sidewalks. It's the sun. And you can't solve the sun, so you might as well lean into driving. Mash the whole city flat and crawl through the dust like rattlers. 

(I met a man once, by the canals, that said the strip malls were some sort of American curse for our ancestors including Johnny Appleseed. There's one God in this world, he said, and it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. So this is our hell.)

Still. It made the days long down there. Lurking at night and hiding all day gives you something like cabin fever. I needed something to do outside. Something that was outside, but also, somehow, inside. What's inside and outside at the same time? What kind of klein-flask ouroboros nonsense fits that bill?

Kartchner caverns. 

---

I wouldn't say the caves were like walking into Dante's hell - more like finishing the journey. At some point in my life, I'd blown past limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, and anger. I'd spent two decades plus change living in the fires of heresy. Every layer past would only get colder. 

And each step into that cave did. 

My tour guide and metaphorical psychopomp guide was a friendly old man. Familiar in the way that all old people feel familiar to me. I view the world more as a pile of metaphors. He viewed it primarily as water-soluble minerals. 

It was a good work dynamic. 

"These here," he said, gesturing to a long, slender series of impossibly frail stalactites, "are called soda straws."

"Hot damn," I said, and he nodded good naturedly. 

"They're pretty fun aren't they?"

I wasn't sure if fun was the word that made the most sense for it. But I was charmed, and we went further, and he pointed out more formations. 

"Behold!" he said. "Fried eggs!" 

And there were fried eggs. 

"Behold!" he said. "A shield!"

And lo, there was a shield. 

We kept walking, deeper, and deeper into the cave. At the surface, it had been hot enough for my sweat to dry into a stinging white powder. Down here it was cold enough to see my breath. The feeling of descending into hell was replaced with the feeling of being swallowed by some ancient, fossilized serpent. 

And then that began to show up in the formations. 

"We call this serpent-stone," he said, gesturing to an expanse of wall. 

And all I could see was the snake that was swallowing me. 

I don't know why or how that broke the spell. But it did. I'd been walking for hours in the dark, following that man. I'd recognized him many times. It just took that moment for that recognition to be allowed. 

"I've met you before," I said. "I met you on the canals once. Johnny Appleseed." 

He looked at me, and I saw what my little brother saw that first time. Something trapped here, in the dark. A feathered serpent ten miles long. Dead and alive, the same way my brother was dreaming but awake. The first apple-eater. Something more afraid of the sun than I was. 

"You are so close," he said. "It's only a few miles further." 

"Close to what?" I said, and he grinned teeth too sharp for a human mouth. 

"To being like us," he said. "To sleepwalking forever." 

Nothing good comes from waking the dreamer once they're asleep. At best, the dream ends. At worst, it doesn't. 

Running away would've required turning my back on it, and I knew - I knew - that my vision was the only thing locking it in place. I made it real by looking. I made it real by seeing. As long as my eyes were open, it was my dream. 

So I did not run. 

I grabbed the man. I looked him in the eyes, and my hands wrapped around his neck, and he fought like a beast. His teeth flashed as somewhere just out of reach, the flashright rolled, and his tongue stuck out, forked like a snakes, and where a normal man would've turned redder, and redder, and redder, he turned greener, and greener and greener. His neck narrowed and he stretched and wound and twisted until the hands beating against my arms were wings, and the man was a snake and I did not blink once until it stopped moving. Then, and only then, did I take my eyes off the thing and run, shivering, back to the light. 

---

I hadn't seen it before. But the cave was a dead thing. Inert. Like the sloughed off skins I'd find on hikes. A memory of something scary, but not the thing itself. I thought I'd be safe when I made it to the top. But the first thing I saw when I stepped into the light, the first thing I saw looking across the long, flat run of desert - was the other half of what I saw in the caves. 

I'd killed the body. But I hadn't killed the soul. That still danced in the sky. The dead part of quetzalcoatl lay in the dark, dreaming it was alive. And the living part flew in the sky, burning and bright and deadly. A fire unending. 

The month after that, I moved to Utah. And I've never looked back. 

[hannie-bees]

Hello! Can I request an angst to fluff imagine with Seungcheol or Soonyoung? I picture this like fighting over something very silly and slowly escalate to a heated argument to the point “yn” starts to cry and he storms out of the house or apartment for some time. After that they make up but I’ll leave the process of it up to you if you decide to write this, dear reader 👀✌���� love youu

Seungcheol × reader

Angst to fluff

Fight focused

1k words

---

I decided on Cheol because I thought it just fits him better & I hope it met ur expectations. Love u lots ♡♡

The rain was already falling when you unlocked the door.

You didn’t think much of it—just a long day, a sore body, and the quiet hope that maybe Seungcheol was still awake so you could collapse into him for warmth. But the moment you stepped inside, you felt it.

Tension.

The lights were dim. The table was still set. Two plates of now-cold food sat untouched.

Seungcheol was sitting on the couch, elbow resting on the armrest, fingers to his lips like he’d been waiting with thoughts he hadn’t wanted to say out loud. His eyes flicked up at you. And then, calmly:

“You forgot to text.”

You blinked. Dropped your bag. “What?”

“I waited,” he said, still composed. “Made dinner. Thought maybe you were caught up at work or stuck somewhere, so I didn’t want to bother you. But… you didn’t text.”

You sighed, too tired to unpack it. “Cheol, I just lost track of time—”

“That’s the third time this week.”

Now you looked at him. His voice wasn’t angry, just tight. Controlled. And that was worse.

“Okay,” you said, shrugging off your coat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s not the point.”

You froze mid-motion. “Then what is the point?”

He stood slowly, jaw clenched. “The point is, I sit here every night wondering if you’ll show up or not. I make dinner, I light the candles, I try. And you forget. You don’t even think to say, ‘Hey, I’ll be late.’ That’s the point.”

You were already unraveling, exhaustion twisting sharp in your chest.

“I’ve had a long day,” you snapped. “And I’m sorry I didn’t send a text, but I’m not going to stand here and get guilt-tripped for forgetting one thing.”

“One thing,” he echoed, hurt bleeding into his voice. “Right.”

“That’s not what I—” You huffed. “God, why are you acting like I don’t care?”

He stepped closer. “Because lately, it feels like I’m the only one trying.”

Something in you broke.

“I’m doing my best, Cheol! I don’t have time to babysit your feelings every night.”

Silence.

His expression didn’t change, but everything behind his eyes shut down.

You hadn’t meant it like that. Not really. Not in the way it sounded—sharp, cold, cruel. You opened your mouth to fix it, but the damage was already done.

“I can’t talk to you right now,” he said quietly.

And before you could reach for him, he grabbed his keys and walked out.

---

The apartment was too quiet after that.

You didn’t move for a while—just stared at the door like maybe he’d come back any second. But the minutes dragged. The clock ticked too loudly. And somewhere between trying to reheat the food and sitting down on the floor next to the couch, the tears came.

You didn’t even know who you were crying for. Him? Yourself? The mess you’d made?

You’d snapped at the one person who always made space for your worst days.

---

It was nearly an hour later when the door opened again.

You looked up, eyes puffy, arms curled around your knees. He stood there in the doorway—damp from the rain, hair flat against his forehead, and face unreadable.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then he stepped forward. Sat down on the floor in front of you. Looked at you like he was seeing past all the anger.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

His brows drew together, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I was tired, and I let it win. I was defensive when I should’ve listened. I wasn’t fair to you.”

You sniffled. “You didn’t deserve that.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then his hand reached up, gently brushing a tear from your cheek.

“I wasn’t asking for perfect,” he murmured. “I just wanted to know I still matter to you.

“You do,” you whispered. “You do. I just... forgot how to show it.”

He nodded slowly, his forehead resting against yours, like the apology was already enough. Like coming back had never been a question.

Neither of you spoke after that.

He just pulled you into his arms, held you close on the floor, and let the rain keep talking for you.

🌸Masterlist🌸

[heartofbusan]

Best laid plans of stomach bugs and men.

The chemistry is the point.

Some people underestimate the effort and toll it takes on ones body and schedule to fly 14 hours to visit another person. 14 hours to spend 72 hours together means commitment. It means bro's before ho's and I am frankly HERE FOR IT.

The discourse I am seeing is extremely telling of how fickle people are about their support for jikook. People watch too much scripted reality tv 🙄 bcs they really expected this relationship, this reunion if you will, to play out in multiple angle close ups and medium shots and several wide angle shots with dramatic zooms and heavily directed post-moment recaps with dramatic silences or eye rolls to play up the drama? The lack of moments, the MUNDANITY if you will IS THE POINT. They are so real to me, so life like, so domestic goals!

Being quiet with each other. No uncomfortable silences, but comfortable togetherness.

That's what leads to horny bed fighting, which in my eyes could lead to more if not for the cameras 👀 just me?

When they said unscripted, this is what they meant. When they said unplanned, this is what they referred to. Not directed, not scripted, not fanservice 🙄 to fit a planned narrative. This is how their relationship plays out. I'd go so far as to call it a documentary instead of a reality series. While documentaries have tons of genres within itself, this genre is one where there's a broad range of planned activities, but where the narrative is constructed in post production: editing. Id know, since im an editor. This tells me that they counted on the natural chemistry between 'JeonJi' (SO CUTE) to 'lead the way' instead of a multitude of directed interactions that they (the producers) would have needed to tick a dramatic narrative box.

So what does that lead to? In my professional opinion as a director/editor the first two episodes lacked a dramatic arc. There was little directing going on to force one

the chemistry is the point

The flirting, the lulls in conversation, them being together, seeing them have fun, and reconnecting is the point. Instead of what they're doing or what they're talking about. The episodes, therefore, are kinda boring in the sense of entertainment, but wildly exiting in the sense of what we get to see play out. And it's incredibly nuanced. And nuance often flies over people's heads..again, the crowd that expects to be held by the hand when it comes to drama: reality tv.

It's a huge risk to take as a production. Let's not underestimate that! 'Are You Sure' was so unscripted that they didn’t even have a title until halfway into the second or third day. Again: they were banking on JeonJi to build upon their chaos to lead to a narrative and a title, etc. That is so telling to me. That them being together is the raison d'etre of this show. Jimin 'sacrificing' his time to fly to the US, Jeonkook making space in his busy schedule time to spend time unwinding, JeonJi making good on their need to finally spend time together after the booked and busy year they've had.

Jimin enjoying the hell out of Jungkook having fun.

Because that is who Jimin has always been: his adventurous spirit takes him places because he loves exploring and being in tue moment. He'll willingly travel to have those moments. Jungkook on the other hand doesn’t. He dislikes leaving the comfort of his surroundings because he doesn’t see the pot of gold that being adventurous brings him while he's comfortable in his home. I relate 😩 so much. Just planning trips alone makes me enter a comatose state, so I'd rather not go than sacrifice my rest to plan an adventure. I don't even know I'll get anything out of. That is, until Im actually on that planned trip and having the time of my life! They've always been like that. Jimin had to be the incentive to get Jungkook out on that trip. Take.him.by the hand if you will 😭😭

And then there's the stomach bug. YOU DAMMNED CURSED THING. It threw a HUGE wrench into their plans, and if anyone doesn’t take that into consideration, then you haven't had a stomachbug EVER while still having to face up to your commitments. Park Jimin will NEVER back down from his commitments, his promises *pinky promises* are sacred to him, and this bug took away the catalyst of this duo. Jungkook suddenly had to be the extrovert of the two, and boy, does he struggle in that role. He was to me his usuall baby elf self. So adorable and cute with his nose focused on food and Jimin’s care. But my man loves to rely on Jimin to lead the way in shenanigans and to make any moment entertaining, and you could just tell Jimin wasn't in his feels enough to overcome his lack of energy. Poor baby. Really, he's the best of us because I would have straight up refused to be filmed in that moment. A whole night of diarrhea and still showing up to film the next day?! NO MA'M NOT ME.

If you've read up to this point, I commend you. It was just supposed to be a short rant, but it became an entire essay because I can not with the overly reactionary nature some people show. Drawing entire conclusions based on two hour long episodes. I know, I might be contradicting myself here but extenuating circumstances and all. Jimin wasn’t on his game, and Jungkook was also recovering. When a show is banking on the chemistry between two people to shoulder the brunt of this show and said people are extremely sick, well then what can I tell you?

We need to sit back and enjoy the fact that we are getting such access to them, so unfiltered. Jikook enjoying each other, come rain or shine, in sickness and in health, whatever the mood brings, because that to me is more valuable than DRAMA or NARRATIVE. We'll probably get a bit more of that once they're going to Jeju, and they're both hopefully healthy. We're even getting a new element for them to play off of: Tete shows up! Like a jack in the box, and Jungkook seems to not be having it, lmao...see..unscripted and natural. I love that for them!

Idols are people first, and we need to celebrate that, not demand more.

[sugarushwriting]

look what you made me do

stalker jungwon x reader part 3

content and trigger warnings: many. just know this is ALL a work of fiction.

kinda long and a wild ride [not proof read]

“would you walk upright?” jungwon growled between his teeth, walking you up the dirt, narrow path to a front door of a cabin.

“my leg is still healing!” you snapped back.

jungwon held you with your hands behind your back, leading you towards the secluded cabin in the woods.

he unlocked and opened the front door, leading you in to the tiny cabin. “where do i sleep?” you asked, wondering how many beds there were and if he was going to make you sleep with him.

“in the basement with the other two.” jungwon replied, and lead you towards another door towards the back, unlatching the lock, before revealing a dark, narrow staircase. he began to lead you down the steps carefully.

you swallowed, and you literally were surprised. you must’ve really pissed him off at the hospital, because he was no longer giving you grace.

it first started when you tried to write a note to one of the nurses asking for help. you thought jungwon was asleep—but he wasn’t.

“what’cha writing?”

you startled, quickly putting down the pen, and attempted to hide the paper, but he was quick to snatch it. reading it, he gave you a disappointing glance but said nothing.

the second time, you attempted to get out of bed, as you were sure jungwon was sleeping. except you were caught when your bed alarm went off due to you being a fall risk.

the third and last attempt, the doctor and nurse were at your side, jungwon stepped out for a phone call.

“i’m not his wife, please you have to help me!” you rushed out in panic.

almost too fast, they didn’t hear you as you were mumbling as well. you couldn’t risk jungwon hearing you.

your eyes quickly darted to the door, jungwon not paying you any mind, before you almost yelled, “i’m not his wife! help me!”

that caught the attention of the medical staff, but jungwon as well, as he ran into the room.

but jungwon had the perfect cover up.

“oh, she had a nasty brain injury when she was younger, so often times she forgets things either for seconds at a time or even years.” jungwon waved off. “and with this new fall, i’m sure it didn’t help at all.”

the doctors were able to confirm it from past medical records of you visiting the doctor for the tbi and different instances of forgetfulness.

you were fucked.

reaching the last step in the basement, you nearly tripped over your feet as jungwon turned on the light revealing cage like rooms you’d see at an animal shelter.

in two of them was danielle and asa. they both sat up, running to bang on the chain linked door, their mouths open from shock and crying.

they were dressed in nothing but a plain black tank and black spandex shorts.

jungwon pushed you in one of the cages from across them. you landed to your knees with a thud and an ‘ouch.’

you looked up at jungwon who had a face of no emotion, threw the same clothes the other two girls were wearing at your face.

“change. i’ll be back with some guests.” jungwon stated, locking the door. he then turned to danielle and asa with a menacing smile.

“you two eat. make sure you get enough for energy.”

“why?” asa choked out.

“it’s hunting season.” jungwon replied.

no way to tell time, but it seemed to be never ending hours, the door to the basement door unlatched and footsteps padded down the steps. two sets. all three of you girls stood up, weak.

jungwon came in view with kai.

“kai?” you whispered out. kai smiled.

“which one do you want?” jungwon asked. “just not her,” he pointed to you, “you know she’s mine.”

“danielle.” kai smiled.

and with that, jungwon unlocked the door to her cage, dragging her out. “let’s go.” jungwon ordered.

danielle began begging for her life and babbling doing anything and everything to please and beg. both men ignored her, as they drug her up the stairs. the basement door latched once again.

“what do you think they’re doing?” you choked out, holding back a sob.

asa stared at you, tears streaming down her face, “you heard him,” she sniffled, “it’s hunting season.”

you let out a loud sob, covering your mouth, walking backwards to where your back hit the wall and you slid down.

asa went quiet, trying to keep herself warm in the lack of clothes you all were given. there was a few small rectangular windows to see the ground outside, and it seemed to be dark, now raining with drops smacking the window.

again, no telling the time, just seemed hours away, more footsteps were heard and the latch of the basement door.

this time jungwon came down with ni-ki. jungwon smiled, “you’re the lucky winner with asa.”

ni-ki grinned, “perfectly fine with me. always thought she was pretty. too bad she was always a bitch.”

asa quietly sobbed in her cage, and tried to back into a corner as jungwon went to open her cage. he paused, “you’re a feisty one, behave.”

ni-ki chuckled, and jungwon finished opening the cage. luckily asa listened and didn’t try anything. it was probably best.

“what—why?” asa asked softly as ni-ki took a hold of you. “are you hunting us?”

both men smiled. “yep.” jungwon said.

“but there’s a twist.” ni-ki said.

“what’s that?” you asked.

the boys seemed proud of their plan. “you run, we hunt. if you get away from the electric fence line, you’re free to go.”

“if you catch us?” asa asked.

“you become our bitch.”

“and if we don’t agree?” you snarked.

both boys looked at you, then asa, then each other, back to asa. “we kill you.”

“what—what happened with danielle?”

“eh, i’ll leave that up to your imagination.”

with that, jungwon and ni-ki began forcing asa up the stairs. “it’s not fair! it’s two against one!”

“i’ll be the only one hunting you, dear.” ni-ki said to asa.

once you heard the latch of the basement door, you began to pace in the small enclosure. if you get caught you become their bitch. what could that mean?

stay at home maid? housewife? pet? slave? sex toy?

you shuddered. you had to escape, you had to find that damn electric fence. but how? you were in a secluded part of the woods. no telling how many miles—acres of land this was.

but what happens once you get free? do they just hunt you all over again and stalk you? make you live your life in fear?

your thoughts were interrupted with a gunshot.

“no!” you screamed, running up to the chained fence door. “asa! no!”

was she caught? did she choose death? did ni-ki go rogue? footsteps thudding from above, then halted. the basement door unlatched, and down came jungwon.

“asa,” you whispered out

“ni-ki needs to control that damn temper of his.” jungwon mumbled, then looked up at you. “she’s alive, just shot in the arm. fucker wanted to scare her into submission. didn’t even give her the 30 second head start like we agreed.”

“jung—jungwon.”

“don’t worry squid, your hunt will begin tomorrow.”

he grabbed a pillow and blanket from the shelf nearby, and opened the cage to throw them in, before quickly locking in back.

you thought, maybe he didn’t actually lock it? remembering your hand ties, they weren’t tight!

when the door latch was heard, you tried your hardest to get the door open—but failed. this time, jungwon wasn’t pitying you.

the next morning came. jungwon fed and left you alone. same with afternoon and evening. it wasn’t until it was pitch dark outside he came back down, wearing all black himself.

“time to hunt.” he smiled and went to open your cage. “try anything funny and i won’t hesitate to kill you.” he threatened and you nodded.

you had no weapon other than a damn pillow.

quickly dragging you upstairs, he threw you out the front door, him locking behind it behind you both. “you have 30 seconds to run.”

you looked at him from the ground where you landed. “huh?”

jungwon began to countdown, “29, 28, 27,” he clicked his tongue and you threw your body up, running as much and fast as you can towards the woods with your hurt leg.

you ran and ran and ran, soon the pain subsiding as you were running on pure adrenaline through the trees, dirt, fallen logs and branches, over snakes probably.

but you didn’t look back, not once. not even when you heard a gunshot and a dog barking.

your breathing was hard, you were fighting off tears, and tried to focus on the path ahead. your eyes happened to look up and you found an old tree house. looked like it hadn’t been used in years, as it was falling apart.

should you hide, or should you keep running? you decided to climb the branches like you used to as a child as the ladder was nonexistent to this treehouse.

a flash came to your mind of your younger self doing so, but you paid no mind.

when you got safely in the treehouse, since the trap door was open, you kept it open. you didn’t want anything to look out of place.

you huddled down in a corner, trying to control your breathing and sobs. you couldn’t let out much of a sound.

you looked side to side, seeing markings in the treehouse, markings that also brought back memories. your mind flashed a scene of you up in the treehouse with a little boy.

a younger jungwon.

“show yourself my squid!” you heard jungwon yell, throwing you out of memory lane.

could it be a real memory or something false?

you held you breath as if you were holding a bubble. you heard the dog bark. once. twice. then footsteps walk away. you heard a tree branch crack. “found you!”

only it wasn’t you. jungwon followed the noise, then, you heard a gunshot.

what just happened?

then you heard two voices you never thought you’d heard again.

“come down! it’s just us!”

asa and danielle. you quickly looked through the trap door and your eyes did not deceive you. it was yours friends frantically waving for you to come down.

you did. and when your feet hit the ground, you saw a body on the ground. a body dressed in all black. jungwon.

“what—what did you do?”

“it was either them or us.” danielle stated.

“them?” you squeaked.

asa grabbed your hand as you stood frozen, and followed danielle through the woods and soon a green pickup came into view.

“get in and we’ll explain.” danielle said.

“where are we going?” you asked, still in shock and fear.

“police station.”

on the drive, danielle and asa explained. danielle had somehow managed to overpower kai, hit him hard over the head with a giant rock. danielle stated she killed him. he wasn’t moving nor breathing. that’s when she took his keys and had to get a plan.

when danielle saw asa shot and being taken to ni-ki’s ride, danielle took the gun kai had stashed and shot ni-ki. she quickly went to help asa, and when they checked on ni-ki, he wasn’t breathing either.

that’s when they both knew you were next, hid out in the woods, and ambushed jungwon, shooting him. killing him.

“they’re all dead?” you mumbled out. danielle continued to drive in silence, asa grabbed your hand.

“remember, it was them or us.” asa sighed.

you all stayed in the police station, giving statements and talking to detectives for at least 9 hours. so to your surprise, all three of you were called back 4 days later to the same interrogation room.

“we found the cabin you all stated you were held, and it’s just like you all explained.” the detective nodded, showing pictures.

his partner looked at all three of you, “but there’s something that doesn’t add up.”

“what’s that?” you asked.

both detectives took in a deep breath, before one spoke, “the three dead men we found, do not match the identifications of the ones you gave us.”

“impossible!” danielle screeched, you and asa wide mouth in disbelief.

one detective took out photos of the dead bodies from the morgue. you all three, wide eyed, looked completely in disbelief.

in front of you were three men. but not kai, jungwon, or ni-ki. however, they were look-a-likes of the three.

“did you look where we told you?”

“we searched the entire property, miss.”

“i don’t believe you!” danielle huffed.

“well, the three you’re claiming did this have proof of plane tickets and being in a completely different country during this timeframe. been away almost a full month.”

“nope! no way!”

“we need you three to be truthful!”

“we are!” asa exclaimed.

“there’s two theories we have,” one detective said and the other began explaining.

“the first is these three men did do what you said they did, you all just believe it was the guys you claimed because they looked so much alike. you all did go to high school together and haven’t seen one another in a while, so maybe when these guys claimed to be the ones you thought, you believed them.”

danielle whispered, “what’s the second?”

the detective hesitated, “we should bring in a psychologist first.”

you slammed your fist on the table. “we’re not fucking crazy or making this shit up!”

“what’s your second theory?” danielle asked again.

“you and your girls were so distraught from the loss of your friend kelly, that you all went down memory lane, finally grieving the girls you once were. bullies. you all felt bad. took some bad hallucinogenic drugs, started hallucinating everything. possibly made it all up. these boys were the fall guys in some way.”

“unbelievable!” danielle threw her hands up. “we don’t even do drugs!”

“you three popped positive for some hallucinogenic substances.”

“stop talking.” asa said.

the detectives went to say something, “not you.” asa looked at you and danielle, “we’re no longer victims, we’re suspects.”

“aw come on, we didn’t say that,”

“we all want a lawyer. now.”

“wouldn’t a lawyer make us seem guilty?”

asa shook her head. “at this time, it doesn’t even matter.”

you three ended up being separated into separate interrogation rooms, with your lawyers.

how did drugs end up in your system? the only thing you can think of is when jungwon fed you all. but wouldn’t you have felt the affects then?

nothing made sense. none of it did.

they claimed kelly’s car accident was an accident. although initially they thought was one car, a driver came forward claiming to be impaired when they caused the wreck and ran.

you mentioned maya. you probably shouldn’t have, but you did. still, the detectives had so call proof that the three were in a different country.

they looked through each of your apartments. no trace of spy gear or anything out of place. same with the so called farm you girls remembered. yes, owned by yang jungwon, but the caretaker said no one has been there for more than a month. since jungwon went on vacation with some high school friends.

of course maya’s remains wouldn’t be found. the pigs ate them. the wood chipper was clean as can be.

you ran your hand through your hair in frustration, pulling at its ends. “this is a fucking nightmare.” you cried.

one of the detectives came back into the room to give you and your lawyer paperwork for release.

you looked over the guy, eyes furrowing in focus. why did he look so familiar? then, your eyes went wide. you swallowed, fighting back more tears.

when you read his name tag, your thoughts were answered simply by reading the name.

kim sunoo.

yang jungwon’s cousin.

“you are free to go for now miss. don’t leave the country.” the guy smiled. almost mockingly he added, “stay safe!”

[supernovafics]

you and steve hate each other but... maybe not anymore?

wc: 588

a/n: i was working on this and then stopped and then finally got around to finishing it<333 this is basically a third part to two other blurb-ish things i wrote (first thing / second thing)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

there was somewhat of a shift that happened after the night you went over to steve’s house when he was sick. neither you nor he spoke about this shift— for some reason, it didn’t feel right to— but it still felt completely obvious. 

when he went back to work a few days after that night, finally returned to full-ish health, you decided against making some teasing jab about how he still looked pretty bad, even though it was on the tip of your tongue. and he didn’t dryly say, “glad to see you didn’t burn the place down while i was gone,” with a harsh roll of his eyes.  

both of those things should’ve happened. it always made more sense to make fun of one another than to do anything else; it was all a part of the animosity-filled dynamic you two shared. however, on that afternoon, you both said simple “hi’s” and “hello’s” and that was that. 

you two definitely weren’t friends, but you could admit (only to yourself, definitely not to him) that you didn’t dislike him as much as you once did. for the first time probably ever, things were actually civil between you two, and it didn’t feel like they were being forced to be that way. 

an unspoken truce was agreed upon and it stayed that way for the final week and a half you were covering for robin while she was out of town. 

and then the last day rolled around. 

a comfortable silence lingered throughout most of that day. customers coming in and out and you and steve alternating helping each person. there was even a moment when he made a joke that you found yourself laughing at before you could tell yourself not to. 

“robin’s back tomorrow, so today’s my last day,” you randomly decided to remind him at one point toward the end of the shift. “actually, i don’t know why i’m saying that when you’ve definitely been counting down the days until i’m out of here.” 

you expected him to agree with your words, but he didn’t; at least not outwardly. 

“i’m sure keith would give you a job if you wanted it,” steve said. “i’m pretty sure he likes you.” 

you outwardly cringed. “ugh, don’t say that.” 

it was quiet for a second. you both continued stocking the recently returned tapes on the cart behind the counter since the store was empty and there was nothing else to do. 

“so…” you started and then trailed off, suddenly feeling nervous, even though you had never felt that way around steve. “um, you would actually want me to work here? with you?” you quickly tried to correct yourself. “you and robin.”

he was quiet for a few moments and then simply shrugged. “robin would definitely love it.” he finished stocking the last tape in his hand before looking at you. “and i wouldn’t mind it.”

that said more than enough to you. 

“okay,” you gave him a small nod, pretending as if you were entirely unaffected by his civility and this niceness that had never been directed toward you; which, rightfully so, because you were never nice to him either. until now. “i’ll think about it.” 

you didn’t hate him, you realized later when you were back home and robin was calling to tell you about her trip and also ask you how it was working with steve for the past month. and you also realized that maybe you never really did hate him in the first place.

[bambisnc]

do i wanna know? [ft. j.sc]

@ sungchan : i FUCKING dare you to pull this blanket one. more. time. @ y/n : your wish is my command cutie 😋😝

pairing : significant annoyance!sungchan x f!reader genre : fluffy + crack cw/tw : there's only one bed :O + swearing + uneditted wc : 1K LETS GAUUURR

the newest addition on your list of things you despise about jung sungchan : how he felt no qualms at all when breaking the ONE rule you had established.

do not cross the boundary of pillows you had meticulously arranged on the queen bed that you had the misfortune of sharing with him i.e., stay away from you as much as possible.

another addition on your list was the way his arms were wrapped around your waist in a way that caused your chest to be pressed against his back in a far too intimate embrace for someone who rarely let go of any opportunities to pick (petty) fights with you. 

the fact that a small part of you, the same part which kept trying to make your breathing just a little quieter so as to not wake him up, wanted to simply go back to sleep just so you could stay enveloped in his comfort for a little longer is completely irrelevant. 

when you think back to the events of the previous few nights, you can’t help but feel slightly murderous intentions towards your so-called best friend, yujun. 

it’s all her fault, really, if you think about it. 

why did she have to go and find a boyfriend? especially when said boyfriend, shotaro, just so happened to be best friends with the literal bane of your entire existence.

why did they have to book a romantic getaway and then end up being busy when the date of the trip arrived? and why, you asked the heavens, why must they have given both you AND sungchan keys to the room??

the lack of communication between the couple was definitely going to be the reason for your untimely demise. 

so far, the one sole highlight of your trip had been the utter shock on sungchan’s face when you walked into the lobby of the fancy hotel, late evening. you’d greeted him with a tight smile, in an attempt to act civilly. 

that went downhill rather fast. but to be fair; you did have your reasons...

…they were threefold. 

first, when you mentioned that you wouldn’t feel too comfortable asking the reception for an extra room and asked him to do it for you, he went off on some kind of a rant saying he wasn’t obligated to do anything you told him. 

when you pointed out that with how defensive he was being, it was almost as if he wanted to share a room with you; he only rolled his eyes and pushed his tongue against his cheek in that ever so annoying way of his. 

you could’ve almost sworn he said something about being .. denser than a .. neutron star? okay astronomy nerd

second, over the days, sungchan had for some reason taken to being stuck to your person like glue. he followed you all over as you were exploring the facilities of the hotel and eventually even dropped in on what were supposed to have been quiet meals where you basked in the delight of your own company; all the while spitting out teasing quips and comments to you.

and there were those out of nowhere, not-so-fleeting touches of his too. playful (??) little shoves, moving your hair away from your face (in an obviously condescending way. right?) etc. you chose to not pay much attention to those.

until, that is, the kitchenette incident occurred. 

while trying to pour yourself a glass of water (because how would you be able to properly pay back each and every one of sungchan’s infuriating actions if you weren’t hydrated?), you can only assume you’d somehow been blocking the narrow walkway into the room. 

which had then led him to move you to the side with a hand on your waist, almost as if with practiced ease. 

no you did not take almost a whole day to process this.

but the third reason is the one you can safely assume to have been the most fatal for you.

the way he insisted on not letting you take the couch but also refusing to sleep on it himself. 

c’mon we’re both mature, smart people he’d said we can sleep in the same bed for a couple days, no? unless.. you think you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, hmm~?

you had thrown a pillow right at him; to wipe off that infuriating smirk off of his face. 

it didn’t work at all. -

the warmth of the sunlight streaming in through the windows coaxes you out of your reverie. all of your senses are suddenly hyper aware of how soft sungchan’s skin feels against yours and how the soft breaths he lets out against your neck have your hair standing on end.

you’re especially aware of how his grip around your waist tries to pull you in closer, as if you weren’t already millimeters away from basically becoming one with him. 

he shuffles around a bit more before you realize he’s waking up.

you immediately allow your eyes to close and attempt to relax all your tense muscles to look as if you were still asleep. maybe you just can’t bear to face how he would react.

“y/n….?”

he still hasn’t moved his arm.

“what are you- SHIT.”

there it is. he pulls away like you’re somehow physically hurting him. 

“oh thank god you’re still asleep. lord knows you wouldn’t have hesitated to actually fight me if you were awake right now.”

…. is he not aware that he’s quite literally 6’1 and with muscles for days?

“i just…” he sighs “i wish i could just hug you properly. preferably after i confessed and you accepted to let me be yours.”

what. 

“i suppose, in my heart, i technically already am. i just wish you could be mine too.

………..

….. y/n ….? i could've sworn your face didn’t look this red earlier? ……………

oh my god.”

he’s gentle with his movements as he moves your body so that if you were to open your eyes you’d be face to face with his. 

“you’re awake aren’t you?”

notes : ill be honest this was originally meant for chanhee.... but sungchan broke into my house (mind) and said i think tf nawt! + [m.list] song rec : do i wanna know - arctic monkeys

𐙚 . regulars : @x0llaz @nicholasluvbot @totheseok @mellowdyverse @fae-renjun ⋆

[fangirlfuel]

Love at First Spill

Warnings:

secondhand embarrassment

Bad jokes ahead

A happy ending

---

Plot:

Franco Colapinto decides to spend his rare day off at a quiet café in Buenos Aires. Rae, a clumsy, slightly chaotic tourist, barges into his life—literally, when she spills her coffee all over his notebook. What begins as an awkward apology turns into an unexpected connection. Between Franco’s dry humor and Rae’s unintentional comedic timing, their story unfolds like a chaotic rom-com that’s equal parts heartwarming and hilarious.

---

Franco Colapinto didn’t believe in fate. He believed in strategy, split-second decisions, and a whole lot of practice. But when Rae walked into the café and tripped over a chair leg, spilling coffee all over his notebook, he started to reconsider.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she blurted, scrambling to grab napkins from the counter.

Franco stared at the brown stain spreading across his notes, then up at her flushed face. She looked genuinely horrified, like she’d just ruined the Mona Lisa instead of his lap time calculations.

“It’s fine,” he said, suppressing a smile. “I needed a reason to rewrite them anyway.”

“Are you sure? I can buy you a new notebook. Or coffee. Or... both?”

“Just sit down before you break something else,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

She sat, clutching the napkins like a lifeline. “I’m Rae. Tourist. Professional coffee spiller. And you are?”

“Franco,” he replied, biting back a laugh. “Driver. Amateur notebook victim.”

---

Their initial awkwardness faded as they talked. Rae had a knack for making even mundane topics hilarious. She described her disastrous attempts at learning tango (“I stepped on my instructor’s foot so many times, he started calling me El Elefante”), her run-ins with overly enthusiastic pigeons, and her general talent for finding herself in ridiculous situations.

“And what about you?” she asked, resting her chin on her hand. “What’s it like being a professional… driver?”

“It’s fast,” Franco said dryly.

She squinted at him. “That’s it? ‘Fast’? Come on, give me something better than that!”

“Well,” he said, leaning back, “imagine driving in circles really fast while people yell at you in your ear.”

“Sounds like my mom trying to teach me how to park,” she deadpanned.

---

As the days passed, Rae kept “accidentally” showing up at the café, and Franco—despite himself—started looking forward to her chaos. One day, she managed to spill her entire glass of water on his phone. Another time, she mistook his car keys for her hotel key and locked herself out of her room.

“Do you just wake up every day and choose mayhem?” Franco asked as she recounted her latest misadventure.

“I prefer to think of it as ‘keeping life interesting,’” she replied with a grin.

---

Despite her clumsiness—or maybe because of it—Rae brought a kind of joy to Franco’s life he hadn’t realized he was missing. But she wasn’t immune to self-doubt.

“You’re this amazing driver with your whole life figured out,” she said one evening, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “And I’m… well, me.”

“You’re right,” Franco said, nodding solemnly. “I am amazing. But you’re the only person who’s ever made me laugh this much. So maybe you’re amazing too.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Are you always this smooth?”

“Only with you,” he admitted, smirking.

---

The turning point came when Franco invited Rae to watch him race. She cheered louder than anyone in the crowd, even when she didn’t understand half of what was happening.

“Did you win?!” she asked, throwing her arms around him after the race.

“Third place,” he replied, laughing.

“Well, in my heart, you’re number one,” she said, then paused. “That sounded way less cheesy in my head.”

“Don’t worry,” Franco said, pulling her close. “You’re still my favorite disaster.”

---

A/N

Remember, love isn’t about finding someone who completes you—it’s about finding someone who makes your life feel like a sitcom. Franco and Rae prove that sometimes, the best romances start with spilled coffee, terrible jokes, and a whole lot of chaos.

---

Why did Rae and Franco’s relationship work so well?

Because even when she hit the brakes, he kept the spark going! 😂😂

In my head it was funny 🥲😔

[cctypical]

HOT TAKE - Wooly doesn’t remember his own death.

I really need to talk about this it’s been on my mind FOREVER. I don’t think anyone’s thought abt this yet. There’s so much evidence to back this I keep finding but at the same time it could contradict this theory idk. Only 10 photos allowed on mobile so I’ll just describe his movements

About the trip cameo, there’s nothing really interesting there, other than the fact he just walks in casually and you can hear his voice fluctuate between panic as he’s driven away (that one “hey” sounded really violent)

So he slides in right. Amanda immediately lunges for him. It takes him a second to look at her, realise what she’s doing, and THEN try to run away but at that point she already on top of him. First of all why is he so fucking JOLLY. You’ve just been MURDERED hell knows how you’re alive again. Yes he’s acting yes he’s suppressing his emotions but you think it’d take him a while to yknow. RECOVER. Second of all he deadass thought it was a good idea to show himself IN FRONT OF HER when she wants nothing to do with him. She even asks him “don’t you get that” she made it pretty clear when she LITERALLY MURDERED HIM. Third of all it just really doesn’t seem like he was expecting it to happen at all. Like he hears her scream, whips around like “what you doin” and only seems to step so he can be out of the way of whatever she’s doing, not expecting to get attacked.

Ok. Moving on. (GET IT GET THE REFRENCE) They’re back in place. NOW he’s nervous. Looks away before looking towards the screen. “I don’t want you here” she leans towards him a lil bit. He backs up, leans away from her, closes in on himself. “I’m your best friend” putting on the act while STILL leaning away from her. At this point note what Amanda’s doing. Attacking him didn’t work but she really wants him to go away, now she’s just expressing her hatred and raising her voice. “All you do is GET ON MY-“ she steps towards him, not intending to hurt him anymore, just yelling, but he goes on the defense, raising his hands for protection and cowering as she looms over him. THIS my pookies is what we call a trigger (OH BOY TRIGGERS) amanda getting angry triggered him and gave him that feeling of danger, causing him to get scared and try protect himself.

Rest of the tape is relatively normal in terms of dynamic, a few concerning moments there but nothing to yap about. “Greeaat idea to warn the birds” all she did was talk to him in a disapproving tone, something she does ALL THE TIME and he still got defensive over it for no reason. He jumps as soon as she opens her mouth, frantically looks at us then her, raises him arms up and stutters “I-I DIDNT MEAN-!“ trying to explain himself desperately to not get in more trouble.

When You’re Feeling Bad. Wooly suggests going on an adventure, immediately regrets his decision. Backs up again, closes in on himself again (raptor arms up) type in horror/scary. Puts his arms up and starts hyperventilating. Obviously this is ptsd from before, ONLY triggered when you mention it. (I JUST NOTICED SOMETHING. when it’s typed in the lamp turns off for a second, and turns back on after he’s had his panic attack. also the camera ever so slightly zooms in when it glitches back to wooly in that split second)

Random one. “SHUT UP… wooly” he jumps and looks shocked

Treasure hunting. Now this one is a lil interesting. “Where’d ya hide the loot” she shoves the shovel, a BLADE, the supposedly sharp end DIRECTLY AT HIS NECK, so much he had to back up to not actually get hit. Other than putting his arms up (for like the fifth fucking time) he is COMPLETELY UNFAZED. “Careful, or you’ll break it” in the most monotone ahh voice imaginable. You’d THINK that pointing a giant sharp object in his face would act as some sort of trigger but nope he’s fine. Fucking dandy.

Ofc this is all to be expected considering we know he fears her at times but it’s just SO. WEIRD TO ME. He comes in, completely unfazed by what’s happened and acts relatively normal the entire rest of the time. He’s only triggered when one, Amanda gets mad at him and two, the subject of horror/death is brought up. If he had the physical/mental memory of who tf knows what she did to him (srsly we don’t even know. SHE COULDVE SLOWLY TORN HIS LIMBS APART WE DONT FUCKING KNOW) wouldn’t he act idk a lil more traumatised? Wouldn’t he be a little more apprehensive of what he does to not anger her? He just doesn’t act like someone who’s just been clapped and is trying not to get clapped again bro is LITERALLY taking his CHANCES. I think what it is is he straight up has no memory of what happened, EXCEPT when he’s triggered he gets that bad feeling of immediate danger like how he felt before being killed, and goes into defensive mode, then COMPLETELY FORGETS ABOUT IT (he goes back to being calm with “that’s gonna take a looot of PATIENCEEE”) (“I wish I hadn’t asked” resumes what he’s doing immediately) it’s not like “oh shit she’s gonna kill me again” it’s like he has gets the fight or flight response out of nowhere and has the sudden need to defend himself juuust in case she gets too mad

I am TELLING YALL HES BUILT DIFFERENT. HE DOESNT KNOW.

[black-flames-and-cherry-flowers]

See You In Other Worlds #15 (Sasuke x Sakura)

The Twilight Store

The first time Sakura entered the twilight store, it was a gloomy day. Her best friend died a few months ago. Ino was one of her pillars, the two attached at the hip since kindergarten, present in every important memory and milestone, through heartbreaks, through meltdowns before exams. Her brave and fierce Ino.

One drunk driver was all it took to shatter the lives of those who loved Ino Yamanaka.

Sakura was running; alongside work, it was the only thing that had helped keep her grief at bay in those days. The sun had begun to sink in the horizon, and the whole city was growing quieter with each minute.

Sakura failed to see a tree root sticking out from the pavement and tripped, crashing to the ground.  A sharp stab of pain shot through her as gravel and loose rocks scraped against her skin. Her leggings were torn, her skin marred with bloody cuts, but fortunately, the damage stopped there.

With nothing to clean her cuts, Sakura limped around, searching for a water source, without success. Then, she spotted a warm glow spilling from a nearby shop.

The two-story building had a brick facade, ivy and honeysuckles creeping along its surface, and a small iron balcony perched at its center.

Through the shop window, she saw old books, a worn-out chess set, magnifying glasses, vintage radios, and an eclectic collection of objects. It looked like a mix between a secondhand shop and an antique store. Strange that she had never noticed such a cozy little shop before.

She reasoned that if the lights were on, someone was probably inside, someone who might let her use their bathroom or borrow their phone to call her parents for help.

As she reached for the doorknob, she noticed it resembled an open pocket watch. The door chimed as she pushed it open. Inside, the shop smelled of old leather, spices, and a touch of orange.

– Hello? – Only silence greeted her. She wandered through the space, eyeing the objects on the shelves, but she didn’t dare touch anything. Once inside, the space felt far larger than it appeared from outside.

After the third row of shelves, Sakura finally saw someone. It was a young man, in his mid-twenties, reading in a brown armchair. He had spiky black hair and fair skin, like someone who didn’t get much sun. Even from a distance, she could tell he was really handsome.

– Excuse me. I tripped outside and got a couple of small cuts. I was wondering if I could use your bathroom to clean them. –

Without looking up from his book, the stranger lifted a finger, pointing to his left, where a blue door marked 'WC' stood.

– Thank you so much – Once again, he didn’t bother to respond or acknowledge her. Well, he’s handsome, but he could learn some manners, Sakura thought to herself. Pushing the door open, she entered the bathroom.

Surprise would be an understatement for what Sakura felt. The sink, made of grey marble, sat beneath a large pink arch. The walls were painted a deep green, and a big oval gold mirror dominated most of the wall. Two sconces framed the mirror, and the soap dispenser looked like a repurposed perfume bottle. Even the floor tiles followed the same color scheme.

To her right was a door, presumably leading to the toilet. The room was beautiful, yet it felt out of place in a shop. As quickly as she could, Sakura cleaned her wounds, confirming they weren’t any more serious.

When she returned, the man remained exactly where he was. – You were kind enough to let me use the bathroom. I don’t have my wallet, but next time I’m in the area, I’ll definitely buy something. –

He made a noncommittal sound, closer to a grunt than a word. He didn’t spare her a second glance before she walked out the door.

The trip home was uncomfortable, it took her twice the usual time, and her knee throbbed slightly. Yet, her grief felt a little lighter, as if a part of it had been left behind in the drain of the shop.

  ~ᰔᩚ~ 

The second time, Sakura’s eyes were blurred by tears, it was six months after she had first entered the shop. She had set out to bring flowers to Ino’s grave, but once she reached the graveyard, she couldn’t take another step. She tried to reason with herself, tried to calm down, counting to twenty, then fifty, and finally one hundred. But she still couldn’t do it.

She felt miserable for being unable to do something as simple as bringing her best friend the bouquet of cosmos flowers in her hands. Despite nearly nine months having passed since Ino’s passing, the wound still felt tender, almost raw. The absence of Ino still affected her.

She left near closing time; the trip was pointless, as she didn’t have the heart to face the grave of the girl she had once considered her sister. She wandered aimlessly through the city until she found herself in front of the shop.

She remembered telling the man in the shop that she would buy something next time. Ino would have loved a full description of her last visit, bombarding her with questions about their interactions and his appearance, urging her to be bolder.

With Ino’s ghost lingering in her mind, she wiped her tears away with the sleeves of her sweater and entered the shop again. It looked just as it had the last time she was there, as if she had only stepped out for a few seconds rather than months. It smelled the same, and even the chime sounded unchanged.

A little odd, though it was probably because she had been too focused on her cuts the first time. There was nothing on the door indicating the opening hours. Perhaps they simply preferred to open late and close late as well.

On one of the shelves, she found old pocket watches, like the one on the doorknob. Old photo albums filled with pictures of various people. It was a shop, yet its contents were beginning to resemble those of someone’s attic. 

Sakura lost track of time inside the shop when something caught her attention, an old fountain pen, similar to the one her grandfather used to have when she was little. Her grandmother had thrown it away, and Sakura had heard her father say multiple times how much he wished she hadn’t done it.

Kizashi’s birthday wasn’t soon, but she thought it would make a good present for him. Resoluted, she took it from the shelf. The young man was in the same spot, still reading, the only visible difference was the book in his hands.

Sakura cleared her throat – Excuse me, could you ring me up for this, please? – This time, the man finally looked at her. He sat there in silence, watching her. Something indescribable flashed behind his eyes. Now, she could see that his eyes were black.

– I can’t exactly do that – His voice was deep, and his tone calm, almost bored. – The shop works under its own… rules. – Sakura was frankly confused by his statement; it must have shown on her face, because he added – It’s more like an exchange, you take something, you leave something. –

Sakura sighed, annoyed by his antics. Maybe he wasn’t rude, just wired differently. – Yeah. Like most stores, you take an item and exchange it for money. – She used the same tone she did when explaining something to a child at the hospital—sweet and full of understanding.

The young man rolled his eyes. – I mean that literally. If you want the fountain pen, you have to leave the flowers you're carrying. –

Sakura looked at him as if he had grown a second head. – You’re joking, right? If you’re pulling some kind of prank on me… – But he cut her off, his tone exasperated.

– Do I look like someone that enjoys joking? – The truth was, he didn’t look like it. At all. Still, Sakura hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The flowers were meant for Ino, but she had been unable to bring them to her.

– If I give you the flowers, you’re not going to run to the nearest police station and accuse me of stealing the fountain pen, are you? – Annoyance flickered across his handsome face.

– No – Just one word, spoken with a vehemence Sakura had never heard before. And for some inexplicable reason, Sakura believed him.

Making up her mind, Sakura resolved that if someone was going to get in trouble with the owners, it wasn’t going to be her. She handed him the bouquet.

Sakura hurried out the door, completely unaware that, this time, a pair of black eyes followed her all the way to the door.

  ~ᰔᩚ~  

The third time, Sakura was “fleeing” from the most boring date she’d ever had. Kabuto had spent the entire time talking about himself, his job, or his boss, Orochimaru. Not once did he ask her anything, other than confirming she was Sakura.

Yet the people-pleaser in her still agreed to go to the cinema with him. He insisted it would be a fun way to end the evening, and she thought it would be easiest to go along with it. Once the movie ended, she would tell him she was looking for something different, and thank him for the evening.

He picked the movie while talking to Naruto on the phone, assuring him she was okay. But when she saw the name of the movie “Cannibal Holocaust” she knew she couldn’t stand another second around him.

She politely excused herself, saying she needed to go to the bathroom, taking her own ticket so she could still get into the theater afterward. Except, when he wasn’t paying attention, she bolted through the cinema doors.

Sakura rushed through the busy street, looking for a taxi to take her home, drafting a message apologizing for leaving him at the theater and adding that it was probably for the best if there wasn’t a second date.

A gust of cold air swept through the street. Sakura buried her nose in her scarf and decided it was better to call for a taxi and wait inside the comfort of a shop until it arrived.

The shop window was full of what looked like handmade scarves. Combined with the cold wind making her shrink deeper into her coat, she didn’t notice she was entering that shop again, until the chime above the door gave it away.

Needless to say, Sakura was stunned. The last time she’d visited, it was on the other side of the city. And yet, the sound, the scent, the shelves, everything looked identical.

She tried to rationalize it. Maybe it wasn’t one store, but two. Like identical twins separated across the city. Except, when she saw the same young man, in the same spot, reading again, Sakura’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

– You’ll catch flies if you keep your mouth open. – Her memory kindly provided that his voice sounded exactly as she remembered. Sakura felt three seconds away from freaking out.

Finding her voice, Sakura managed to answer him – Did you switch up locations? – She could see a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth.

– Yes. No. Maybe. I’m not entirely sure where we are now. – He had closed the book and was looking at her intensely. – This is your third visit now, and yet you still haven’t realized it, have you? –

Sakura tilted her head. Her mom liked to say her face came with loud subtitles, which made it impossible to hide her emotions. He seemed to have noticed that, too.

– Look at your watch, and tell me the hour. Go back to the door, look at the street through the display window, look at what the shelves have in them. When you think you’re done, slowly count to thirty. Return to this spot. And tell me the hour again. –

Sakura hesitated for a few seconds, it all sounded like a mix of strange and silly. But she decided to go along with him. She wasn’t wearing a watch, so she checked her phone instead, peeling off the cinema ticket that was still stuck to the screen in the process.

– 9:00 PM – With a flick of his hand, he gestured for her to follow the rest of his instructions. Holding both the phone and the ticket, she headed back toward the front of the shop.

Warm, golden light filtered through the window. As Sakura inched closer, she saw a street bathed in hues like those of the golden hour. But something was off, the brightness didn’t match the time or the darkness she remembered before entering. And the street itself looked unfamiliar. People walked by in summer clothes, while she was bundled in winter layers.

Sakura took a step back, dazed. Maybe it was some kind of projection, set up to fool her. Except… the handmade scarves were exactly the same. Sakura spun on her heels.

Upon closer inspection, some of the objects were in the same places as last time, like the pocket watches or the photo books. In one of the shelves, where a set of old cameras had been before, now stood a collection of old model ships, their sails yellowed by the time.

But what held her attention the longest was the bouquet of flowers she’d brought for Ino nearly three months ago. It stood in a green vase with pink accents. It didn’t look like even an hour had passed. The same ribbon was still wrapped around the stems, stamped with little boars.

Sakura wasn’t sure how long she stared at them, too afraid to even touch. Yet she could smell them. Fresh. Untouched by time.

She remembered what she was supposed to be doing and, closing her eyes, counted to thirty before returning to stand in front of the young man. When she looked at her phone again, the screen still read 9:00 PM.

Her eyes widened in shock, her knees buckled, and suddenly Sakura was on the floor. He seemed prepared for the reaction, without hesitation, he was by her side, helping her up and guiding her to a nearby chair.

– Welcome to the twilight shop. Where time is frozen. –

He was still hovering near her, and her eyes searched his face. He looked as serene as ever.

– Did I die? –

– No. – His answer was categorical. – You don’t need to die to enter. The shop answers to those with a broken heart in need of a wish, a miracle, relief, or a request. –

Sakura blinked, trying to process what she was hearing.

– Are you dead? Are you the owner? Are you cursed? –

– Neither of the first two. I’m unsure about the last one. – He left, and after a couple of minutes, returned with a glass of water, which he offered her in silence. By then, Sakura felt a little more composed.

– If time is frozen here… does that mean the moment I leave, it picks up where I left off? –

– I can’t answer that. The moment I came inside, I couldn’t leave. The door opens back for everyone but me. –

– How long ago did you come in? Is something physically keeping you from walking out? –

A cascade of emotions crossed his black eyes, as if she were the first person to ask those questions.

– I don’t know how much time has passed. I’m not even sure the shop works with linear time. I can’t ask for help with the door. –

– Well then, tell me your name and I can check if you were reported as missing. I’ll come back and tell you. Maybe I can just hold the door open for you. –

He pondered her offer, and Sakura used the moment to take a sip of the water he’d brought her. His voice sounded tired when he finally answered:

– Sasuke. Sasuke Uchiha. –

– Sakura Haruno. – She offered him her small hand, and after a few seconds, his larger one reached out to shake it.

She left the shop shortly after, still feeling confused. Outside, her phone screen flickered, lighting up, going dark, then lighting up again. This time, it read 10:30 PM. The streets were emptier now, the air colder. A passing taxi caught her attention, and she managed to flag it down and return to the comfort of her home.

She never even noticed the cinema ticket she left behind, resting on the armrest of the chair where Sasuke had helped her sit. It had taken him a while to do it, too lost in his thoughts about Sakura, the first person to offer him help in what felt like ages.

  ~ᰔᩚ~ 

The fourth time Sakura entered the shop, she was terrified. It was April, and a sudden storm had begun while she was shopping. Rain she could handle, but thunder and lightning were an entirely different thing. Thunderstorms had always scared her, ever since she was little.

So there she was, trying to go as fast as possible through a sea of umbrellas before a loud clap of thunder made her flinch and then rooted her to the spot. Tears threatened to spill from her closed eyes, wishing she could teleport beneath the covers of her bed until the storm passed.

She was stuck in that cycle of fast walking and abrupt stops, ignoring the curses from passersby, when out of the blurry corner of her eye, she saw the shop materialize in front of her. She ran toward the safety it represented.

Now she knew the sound of the thunderstorm couldn’t follow her inside. Her hands were slightly shaking as she left her umbrella next to the door, trying not to cover the whole shop in water.

Like a magnetic force pulling her, she walked until Sasuke’s form appeared in that worn armchair, reading. It only took him a glimpse of her, still shaking and a bit wet, like a lost puppy, before he rose and crossed the distance between them.

– Are you okay? Did something happen to you, Sakura? – 

She shook her head as Sasuke guided her to the armchair.

– I got caught in a thunderstorm. They scare me. –

A smirk formed on his lips, and if she had looked at the rest of his face, she would have seen the relief in his eyes. Instead, she hit one of his arms.

– Don’t laugh, mister. I never have to deal with thunderstorms or other mundane things. –

A somber expression crossed his face at the reminder that he was trapped inside the shop, and Sakura wanted to slap herself for saying it.

– I found you, by the way. Sasuke Uchiha. Twenty-five years old. Dark hair and dark eyes. You disappeared on a Wednesday, fifteen years ago. Your family offered 25,000 ryōs for any information about your whereabouts. Your father nearly turned the city upside down trying to find you, and he’s threatened to use all his wealth if anyone tries to change anything about the outside of their house, he’s trying to preserve it exactly as it was, in case you come back. After you left, your mom fell into depression and stopped leaving the house, and every night, she leaves the front porch light on to guide you back home. Your brother has a Facebook page dedicated to keeping alive the story of your disappearance. All of them want you back. –

Silence surrounded them as Sasuke processed what he had just heard. Eventually, he sat down as well, eyes closed, mouth tightening into a thin line before he took a deep breath.

– I always felt like I was an afterthought for them. Especially for my father, a spare, in case something happened to his golden son. Itachi loved me, but he was always so busy with his life, his classes, then his friends, and later his girlfriend. So I started thinking that he didn’t give a damn about me. Mother was always loving, trying to encourage me, and to reassure me that I was loved just as much. But it was hard to believe when it felt like I was never enough. Itachi would have done it faster and better, his grades effortlessly perfect, his social skills miles ahead of mine. –

Sasuke took a deep breath before resuming his tale. 

– Fury, sadness, and some resentment kept building inside me for years. It felt unfair that despite how hard I tried to move heaven and earth to please my father, all I got were stern looks and scowls. I hated how I was feeling. Eventually, we had a big argument. I left the house and slammed the door, because I knew he’d hate that. I wandered through the city. All the shops eventually closed, but I was so angry I didn’t want to go back. Then a tempting light caught my attention. I entered the shop and... I’m still here. –

His dark eyes glinted with what Sakura was sure were unshed tears before he directed his gaze to the floor. She wasn’t sure what to say or how to comfort him. In the end, she reached for his hand, rubbing soothing circles over the back of it. 

Silence settled between them again. When Sakura felt him shift in his place, she let go of his hand. A small pang of unhappiness appeared in her heart, but she pushed it away.

– I found it last January. I’ve been trying to find the shop ever since. I went to all the places where I saw it last, without luck. Until today, when I was too busy trying not to dissolve into a puddle of my own fear instead. –

– The shop appears when you need it, not when you want it. –

– Makes sense. Do you want to try and see if I can open the door for you? –

Sasuke gave her a small nod before they went to test if the theory worked, only to find that not only was the door locked, but the doorknob wouldn’t even turn.

At first, panic filled Sakura, what if she was trapped now too? She didn’t mind spending more time with him. Once he let go of his uncaring, rude façade, he was actually nice to be around. But she didn’t want to leave her family behind.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips.

– Well, this was a waste of time. I can’t leave. That much is obvious. – Frustration painted his voice. – But… thanks for trying, nobody did it before. – His voice was barely audible.

Sakura snapped her head around so fast she was sure she’d wake up with a stiff neck the next morning.

– No one tried before? – 

– No one cared before. – 

Maybe it was how defeated his voice sounded, or how vulnerable his face looked in that moment, but Sakura’s hands itched to brush a strand of hair out of place. Before she could, he took a step back.

– I think it’s time for you to leave now. It’s easy to lose track of time here, and you don’t look like you want to scare your family. –

Sakura nodded, heart heavy. She reached for her umbrella before trying to open the door for the second time that evening. With mocking glee, the doorknob turned, and the door swung open.

Outside, it was already dark, the air thick with humidity and the scent of petrichor after the long storm. Before leaving, she took one last look at Sasuke, bathed in the golden light that filled the shop, the mask of indifference slipping back over his face. His spiky black hair, soft-looking up close, and his frame slightly hunched in her direction. 

From his posture, she could tell he was sad, and yet, still devastatingly handsome. With a small wave of her hand, she finally stepped outside. But she spun around immediately, placing her hand on the wooden door as it began to vanish, unaware that Sasuke was doing the same on the other side. 

Once it became clear that her hand now rested against an ordinary building, and that she was earning odd looks from passersby, Sakura resumed her walk back home. A quiet determination filled her, to get Sasuke out of that shop. And as she walked, she caught herself daydreaming about the smile that might finally spread across his face when it happened. 

The fear that had filled her mind before arriving at the shop had been traded for butterflies in her stomach at the thought of that smile. 

  ~ᰔᩚ~ 

The fifth visit wasn’t really the fifth, several others had happened between. They never got the door to open for Sasuke, but they learned about each other. Small trades kept happening without them realising.

During one of them, Sakura was eating a dango while brainstorming out loud how to help him. She offered Sasuke a bite; he politely declined, saying he hated sweets but liked tomatoes. That day, they tried to open one of the windows at the back of the shop, but it didn’t work. The stick, left resting on a barrel, became a small payment for that piece of knowledge.

On another occasion, Sakura hurried off a bus after seeing the shop appear through the glass window. She’d been doodling on an old receipt: cartoonish clouds, flowers, and a grassy field with a river running through it. Sasuke had laughed when he noticed that she was still clutching it in her hand. But after she left, he started using it as a bookmark. That time, Sakura was feeling less patient and tried throwing a heavy chandelier at the shop window. Both things were unaffected.

In the next one, Sakura was humming one of her favourite songs as she watched from the beaten armchair while Sasuke moved things around the shop, arranging objects left behind by other people. He asked about the music outside and shared what he used to listen to before entering the shop. That day, when Sakura opened the door, she didn’t let go, using the first thing she’d grasped upon entering to wedge it slightly ajar. But when they returned, the door was closed, and the book was neatly placed on the floor beside it.

All these failed attempts were dampening Sakura’s mood. It didn’t help that the second anniversary of Ino’s passing was approaching. Thanks to her conversations with Sasuke, she decided to print some of her favourite photos with Ino. One of them was a group photo, but for some reason, half of it was damaged. So it ended up stashed away at the bottom of her backpack.

The usual chime greeted Sakura, who let her feet carry her along the familiar path to where Sasuke liked to read. Except this time, he was there, deep in thought, his gaze distant. Sasuke reminded her of a cat, if approached too quickly, he’d be grouchy at best, but if you gave him space, a softer side would appear.

Sakura sat in the armchair he’d moved for her a while ago, trying to come up with a new idea to free him, when she felt his gaze land on her. Sakura smiled at him.

– You’ve cut your hair again. –

– Oh, you noticed already? It took my dad three solid weeks, and he sees me twice a week. One of the disadvantages of working in the paediatric wing, sometimes kids yank on my ponytail and it hurts. –

She shook her head just as he let out a small chuckle.

– Maybe they just want to check if your hair’s as soft as it looks. –

Red coloured the tips of his ears and bloomed across her cheeks.

– I… I think… I have the CD I talked about last time, but it’s been a couple of months, so let me see. –

Naturally, she tried to change the subject, and immediately hated how she was stammering like a girl talking to her crush for the first time.

Sakura was thankful she could redirect her gaze to her backpack, where she started searching for the CD. Eventually, she emptied the whole thing in front of her. But the CD wasn’t there, at some point, she must have taken it out.

As she raised her gaze back to him, Sakura saw him holding the photo. Sasuke took his time inspecting it.

– You look really happy here. Like you’d been laughing all night. –

– We were. Ino dragged me to the party, saying that the brain hidden beneath my big forehead needed a night to relax. That way, the next day I could keep pretending I didn’t already know the whole subject by heart. –

Another smile, this time full of nostalgia, appeared on her face.

– I still miss her a lot. But I’ve decided that if I don’t have a life full of things to tell her in the afterlife, she’s going to pester me for the rest of eternity. –

– I didn’t realise how much I missed my family until you waltzed into the shop. And from what you’ve told me, they’re still alive and healthy. I’m sorry for your loss. –

Sasuke sounded solemn, and Sakura knew he truly meant those words, he wouldn’t have said them otherwise.

– Do you want to see them again? –

– I wish I could see them again, even if it’s just one last time. To apologise, because the last memory they have of me is me leaving the house, furious. –

– I wish you could do that too. –

Sasuke nodded in appreciation, and Sakura knew it was for the best to leave the conversation there. Sasuke wasn’t big on talking about his feelings or letting others see his vulnerable side, so for him to acknowledge that in front of her felt like a monumental thing.

Sakura redirected the conversation to a lighter place, filling him in on recent news from the outside world. But like every other time, Sasuke grew concerned about how much time might have passed outside.

– But we haven’t tried anything today. Let me think of something real quick. –

Shaking his head, he rose from his seat and started walking toward the front of the shop, prompting her to quickly gather her things and follow him. They reached the door, and the time to say goodbye, once again.

– Just so you know, I’m not giving up. I’m taking you out of this shop one way or another. –

– Oh, I’m sure you aren’t. If I’ve learned anything from you, Sakura Haruno, it’s that you never give up. –

There was fondness in his voice. Without thinking, Sakura rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. Her eyes comically doubled in size once she realised what she’d done, while at the same time, his whole face turned red.

Trying to flee the moment, and trying to stop her, both their hands reached for the doorknob at the same time. And this time, it turned. The door opened slowly as the realisation of what had just happened hit them both.

Sakura was the first to step outside, her embarrassment forgotten in the light of what had just happened. She turned and stretched out her hand toward him. It took him a couple of minutes, but his shaky hand finally grasped hers, and for the first time in fifteen years, Sasuke Uchiha took a few steps outside the Twilight Shop.

Neither of them noticed right away that the shop had vanished, it had slipped away quickly, as if afraid he might turn back and follow. It had preserved Sasuke for as long as his heart needed to formulate its wish, his payment: the fury, the resentment, and the years he left behind inside it.

Inside the shop remained the damaged photo showing two young girls half-hugging, laughter plastered across their faces. Next to it sat a half-read book, its bookmark an old receipt full of doodles. A token from the past traded for the promise of a different future.

What they eventually did notice were the curious stares of passersby, watching as they looked at each other with silent wonder. They began wandering, trying to figure out where in the city they’d appeared.

– You know, Sasuke-kun, maybe you were like the princess in the fairytales. Maybe you needed a true love’s kiss to break your curse. –

– Are you suggesting that you’re my true love, Sakura? –

– No… I… Well, I did, but not in the way you think I did. –

Sasuke’s laugh echoed down the street before his warm hand enveloped hers one more time.

– Too bad. I like it the way I thought about it. –

My main inspiration this time is the manga xxxHolic. Comments are always welcomed.

[tonguetyd]

Chemical Mess

A Sleep Token Gift Exchange present for @sleeptokenpuppy 🥰

"What's the point? If life is fleeting, should I just hang with my friends? Should I spend more time with the people I love instead of in my head?"

Tags: Sitcom AU, Inhuman Vessels, Not Platonic or Romantic But a Secret Third Thing (Bonded By An Eldritch Being), Winter Solstice, Minor Existential Crisis, But Friends and Tentacle God Help You Thru It :::)

IV hummed as he balanced another 3 sticks of butter on the precarious tower of supplies retrieved from the fridge. Sure, he could take multiple trips back to the counter with less food, but what was the fun of having super strength if you didn't use it to carry as much as possible?

Deciding he had everything he needed, he shut the door and turned slowly towards the counter, making sure none of his supplies would lose balance and fall do-

"MOOOOVE!!!!" yelled II as he bolted past the guitarist to grab a Red Bull can, knocking over every one of IV's carefully stacked items to the ground.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as to not yell at the drummer. "We really need to keep your caffeine in a separate part of the house."

"We shouldn't give him caffeine at all, he's already supersonic," chimed in III from the stovetop.

"Notmyfault, lotsathingstodotoday, needmyenergy, sorry, iiiwillhelpcleanup!" II said between gulps of his drink. "Oh! Happysolsticebytheway!" He scrunched up the empty can and tossed it to the bin.

"III will NOT help clean up, III has risotto on the stove thank you very much," the bassist sassed.

Huffing at his friends, IV began setting his supplies from the floor to the counter. "It's fine, leave it all for the non-flexible AND slow one, not a problem there..."

"Seeyougotit, dontevenneediiishelp, okaybye," II replied before running back off to wherever he had come from.

IV grumbled something about "rude motherfucker" while III walked over laughing. "Don't worry, we'll figure out some way to get revenge," the bassist said, stretching his arm to keep stirring the pot on the stove. "Little man won't know what hit him!"

An unnatural cloud of fog rumbled with amusement as Sleep watched His younger vessels prepare for His sacred night. He turned His attention to His First, expecting to see a similar sense of entertainment from his eldest.

Instead, Vessel's six eyes blinked joylessly at the wall, oblivious to his friends' antics.

The solstice was upon them once again. Another year had gone by. Were the years always so short? How was time continuing to slip away from him? It had just been summer yesterday. Was life passing him by? Should he be doing more by now? Accomplished more than what he already had? How much time did he even have left?

Futhermore, what was the point of having all this time anyway, if it was just going to fly by him? If he was constantly running out of time anyway, what was the purpose of filling them with...anything? The clock and calendar didn't care what he did to fill them. They marched steady onwards.

Emo shit. As IV would affectionally call it.

Vessel's brain spiral of Emo Shit continued as his friends worked around him to bring light on their shared sacred day.

Sleep was displeased at this. It would not do that His First should be melancholy on the Holiest of nights. His fog form swirled around III.

“Hey Sleep! If you’re looking to help I think IV needs it more,” the bassist said, affectionately twirling a finger in the mist.

The fog grew denser and lowered Itself to obstruct III’s vision.

III frowned and tried to fan the fog away with his hands. “Yeah yeah I know it’s your special day, I’m trying to fry stuff though and would rather not get burned because you’re blocking my sight!”

Frustrated, Sleep continued to His Second. If anyone would be in touch with His First’s emotions, it would be his oldest friend.

The mist descended upon II as he raced up the stairs. “SLEEPICANTSEE!” he exclaimed as he missed the top step, tumbling back down to the bottom.

He sat up and rubbed his head, glaring at the fog. “Thathurt! Becareful! Notallofusareimmortal!”

The fog continued to swim around him, forming an opening to direct II’s sight to Vessel.

II huffed when he saw his friend. “Ves. Talktoyourgodandtellhimtoleaveusbe!”

Vessel glanced up towards II and shrugged.

IV bellowed from the kitchen “OI, SLEEP, WE’RE BUSY! GIVE US A COUPLE HOURS!”

The ancient one’s frustration reached its peak. The fog condensed and shot over to Vessel before disappearing from sight.

Vessel suddenly didn’t feel so good.

His eyes grew blurry and his head heavy. His limbs began to move of their own accord, and suddenly he felt another presence in his mind.

The jerky movement from Vessel’s body caught III’s eye first. “…Ves?”

Vessel’s head snapped to III’s, his six eyes glowing red.

“MY THIRD.”

“…oh. Shit. Not Ves.” III reared his head back, creating space between himself and his now-possessed friend. “UH…GUYS? I THINK WE MADE GOD MAD…”

II and IV made their way over to the other vessels. “Whatdoyoumeanwema-oh. Fuck.” II’s eyes grew when he saw the already looming presence of his friend expand to house a god.

“MY VESSELS. YOU SEEK MY FAVOR UPON THIS HOLY DAY, YET YOU IGNORE MY ATTEMPTS TO OBTAIN YOUR ATTENTION. EXPLAIN.”

“Shit…we…we didn’t mean anything by it, honest,” III stammered out. “We just have to watch what we’re doing, or we’ll make a mess. We would never intentionally ignore you, Sleep.”

“YOU ARE IGNORING MY FIRST.”

IV tilted his head in confusion. “Ves has been sitting right there? He hasn’t said anything to ignore…”

“MY FIRST’S BRAIN IS RESTLESS. HE IS QUESTIONING HIS PURPOSE, FEELING AS IF HE HAS TOO MUCH YET NOT ENOUGH TIME.”

“…andstubbornasscouldnttellusthishimself?”

III elbowed II from across the room. “Oi, don’t be a prick.”

“HE IS SUFFERING IN SILENCE, AS HE OFTEN DOES, AS TO NOT BE A BURDEN ON YOU. I WILL NOT TOLERATE MY FIRST BEING UPSET WHILE SURROUNDED BY HAPPINESS. FIX HIM.”

With His command given, Sleep detached Himself from Vessel’s brain.

When Vessel blinked his eyes again, he felt more like himself. His three sets of eyes were met with another three sets.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling badly?” II asked, deliberately slower than he had been all week.

Shame rose up in Vessel’s cheeks. “I…uh…well…you’re all busy…and I just…it’s stupid anyway.”

“It’s not stupid Ves, it’s something we all feel at times,” IV assured him.

“Yeah! Friendly Christmas existential dread!” III nodded.

Vessel huffed. “I just. You’d think if we all go through this that somebody would’ve figured it out by now.”

IV scoffed. “Yeah, yet here we all just fucking around anyway. Nobody’s got any idea what they’re doing.”

“Mmhmm. We’re bumbling around just trying to get…somewhere?” II offered.

“Or maybe not even go anywhere at all. Just enjoying the ride, wherever it takes us!” said III.

Vessel stared up at the ceiling as Sleep’s fog took shape once again. “I guess.”

“Listen Vee, yeah we don’t know if there’s a point to any of this, and yeah it might be over in the blink of an eye,” IV shrugged. “But instead of wasting that limited time we’ve got trying to figure it out, let’s just. Like. I dunno.” He gestured around their space.

“Eat rice balls!” III exclaimed.

Ves laughed for the first time all day. “Who needs a meaning in life when there’s rice balls?”

“Exactly!”

“III is right,” II said. “We’ve got rice balls, and more than that, you’ve got us!”

“If we’re to be submerged, let us be submerged together and all that shit, yknow?” IV joked.

And as Sleep watched his vessels pick their First’s spirits up, he hummed in agreement. Not even the ancient ones know what the future holds. All any being can do is enjoy time with those that make them feel less alone.

A part of a whole, no matter how messed up it may be.

Just a picture perfect, lovable, positively shitshow, chemical mess.

——————————

Matt’s song offers no answers, nor can I, nor can Sleep probably! There’s no right way to do the holidays or life. All we can do is try to be good to each other! This is my attempt to be good to y’all, and I hope you enjoyed it!! ❤️

[toasttt11]

match

October 18, 2024

Mackenzie sat on her couch waiting for her facetime to be answered, Will and her have been facetiming a lot with her being still in San Jose and Will with the Sharks on a road trip, it was a bit weird to both of them to be apart after spending everyday together for weeks.

“Hi Mack.” Will smiled at the screen the second he saw her face, he was laying in bed in the hotel in Winnipeg before he had to get ready for his game, they were also heading home after the game tonight.

“Hi!” Mackenzie smiled and they started just chatting for a good while.

“Okay i have to get ready now.” Will told her looking at the clock.

“Okay, Oh uh one last thing i know you’re gonna be tired so you definitely don’t have to and you can say no but is there anyway you could drive me somewhere tomorrow? it is a few minutes away and Joe and Tabea are both gone tomorrow and can’t give me a ride and Charlie has a meet and my parents can’t make it and i don’t her to be alone and.” Mackenzie quickly rambled out looking nervous expecting him to say no.

“Mack.” Will gently cut her off making her slowly stop talking and look at him seeing him smiling reassuring, “Of course i can drive you.” Will does not care losing some sleep to spend time with Mackenzie.

“Really?” Mackenzie looked incredibly shocked he said yes.

“Of course, as long as i can stay and watch too? If i’m allowed too?” Will asked hoping he could stay because one spending more time with Mackenzie and two he has never really watched a tennis match before and Charlie seemed to love to talk about her sport at dinner and he wanted to learn more about it.

“You want to come?” Mackenzie said softly looking so incredibly touched, Her ex never once asked about anything for her siblings let alone ask to go see them.

“Of course.” Will smiled.

“Yeah you can definitely come.” Mackenzie smiled nodding back.

They said their byes and hung up the facetime.

October 19, 2024

Mackenzie closed the door behind her, she walked down the driveway seeing Will waiting for her.

Will blinked looking at Mackenzie, she was wearing a pair of white linen pants and a cropped pink floral t-shirt and her hair was just straight and down, she looked beautiful, he’s never seen her in pink before but he loved it.

“Hi!” Mackenzie smiled seeing Will and she got in the car and leaned over gently hugging him, she had missed him the last week he has been gone.

Will paused in slight shock but eagerly hugged her back his eyes closing content, “Hi.” Will warmed spoke back smiling at her as they pulled away.

He watched her perk the way she always does when she sees her Dunkin order that he always gets her.

Will started the drive having got the address from Mackenzie and they started talking as always while drinking their coffees.

Will parked the car and they got out heading to the courts, his hands resting in his sweatpants as he followed Mackenzie.

Mackenzie for their wristbands and they headed in and got to their seats and sat down together.

They just chatted with each other until it was time for the first match to start.

The first match started and Will looked lost, “Okay so there is sets right?” Will leaned over and asked her looking confused.

“Yeah so someone needs to win two sets to win the match.” Mackenzie explained her eyes flickering between the match going on in front of them.

Will slowly nodded, “How do they win a set?”

“They have to be the first to win six games and to win a game you need be at least four points ahead.” Mackenzie continued to explain to Will.

Will nodded again and he continued to ask questions through the first match.

The second match was a quick one and finally the third match was Charlie’s.

Mackenzie cheered for his sister when she walked on to the court, Mackenzie always loves when she has a chance to watch her siblings play.

Will cheered with Mackenzie.

Charlie looked over and beamed seeing her sister and Mackenzie watched as Charlie smile even more seeing that Will came too.

The match started and it was obvious that Charlie is an incredible tennis player, Will easily saw the athletic resemblance of Mackenzie in Charlie.

“Oh what was that?” Will asked curiously seeing Charlie do a hit or serve or something he hasn’t seen yet.

“That’s a volley, It’s Chars favorite.” Mackenzie told Will.

She looked over during the match and saw Will eagerly watching Charlie play, her heart softened he didn’t need to drive let alone be here with her and he is not only here but truly watching and wanting to learn the sport.

Mackenzie felt a rush of emotions that she keeps feeling around Will, she isn’t that stupid she knows what the feelings are but she isn’t ready to think about the truth of her feelings and she is not ready yet to accept them, maybe soon, Will makes it easy to want to feel things for him.

Right now she is content with her friendship with Will and to just let their friendship continue to grow, for now.

Will and Mackenzie cheered loudly when Charlie won her match and both waved at Charlie.

Will and Mackenzie headed out of their seats to find Charlie after her match.
Will watched with a fond look as Charlie darted right to Mackenzie once she saw her and hugged her so tightly. Mackenzie was beaming hugging her back as they both talked so rapidly to each other.

Will has loved being able to see the older sister side of Mackenzie.

“Will!” Charlie smiled at him once she let go of Mackenzie.

“Hi Charlie you did great!” Will praised holding his hand out for a high five.

Charlie smiled even more high fiving him.

Mackenzie and Will talked with Charlie for a little bit more before Charlie had to go and they headed out to Will’s car.

“Thank you for coming.” Mackenzie softly thanked Will as they sat in his car.

“Anytime.” Will grinned being completely honest.

*i don’t watch tennis so any tennis things could be completely wrong.*

[neon-kazoo]

A Misunderstanding

[Context: A vigilante and a villain have an arranged, cooperative deal between them. That is, until something goes wrong, much to the vigilante’s confusion. This story takes place from the POV of the vigilante, beginning in the middle of an unrelated mission/project that the villain is unaffiliated with.]

(Warnings: threats, kidnapping, gun mention, knife violence, blood, fairly descriptive cut/stab wounds, interrogation/torture, helplessness, self-harm kinda, more language than usual, sexual harassment mentioned with implied past experiences)

Note: Technically these are ocs of mine, so if you catch any unexplained details that’s where they’re from. This whole snippet was intended to develop their dynamic, but at this point it’s really just whump lol. I just realized I had over 4000 words written that would otherwise never see the light of day so I made some tweaks to post it. If I missed any name replacements you saw nothing; there was a lot of words ok?

This is extremely long and heavier than most of my snippets, so be careful!

———

“Vigilante, grab some tubes from that room down the hall. I think it’s the third door on the right.”

I left the room to grab the materials for the project. Walking down the hall I lazily counted: one…two..

I reached the third room, and I could see the PVC from the doorway. Eyes locked on the stack at the back of the room, trying to figure out how I was going to carry so many large pieces, I missed the uninvited guest lurking beside the open door, allowing him an opportunity to catch me off guard and shove me into a wall. I opened my mouth to yell for the team but my eyes processed faster than my mouth and stopped me in my tracks.

What was Villain doing here?

I must’ve looked shocked- because I was. A personal appearance from this man could mean nothing good.

I racked my brain for any reason he might have to come find me. I came up empty. I certainly didn’t remember doing anything to him worth wall-slamming me over.

The slight ease I had at identifying the familiar face disappeared when I looked closer at his expression. There was a subtle anger painted on his usually-carefully-blank features.

“I’d suggest coming quietly,” he stated in his signature effortlessly-menacing tone. He spoke easily, like he executed an impromptu abduction every Tuesday morning.

“Come where?” I questioned, immediately suspicious. What was this?

“Somewhere to answer some questions,” he replied. His words were vague. Empty. His tone suggested I wasn’t going to get anything more out of him, but I felt the urge to press.

(Why not here, why now, what was so important?)

I knew better than to argue, but I hadn’t quite grasped the gravity of my situation yet. I shifted, ready to plead that I was in the middle of something rather important, when a knife appeared at my throat, pulling me right back down to Earth.

“Or we can skip the questions.”

Questions it was.

I walked obediently when prompted and he held solidly to my arm. We exited the building via fire escape (how did he know I was here?) We reached the doors of a black SUV parked conveniently in an alley a block over from my operation. As slowly as I could manage, I worked my fingers up into my sleeve. PSAs about the odds of surviving being taken to a second location flashed in my head but were interrupted by the introduction of a gun at my side.

“Press it, and you’re dead.”

Well, fuck.

On second thought, I actually adored second locations. I dutifully climbed into the back and used my remaining energy trying to stay calm as my hands were secured to the seat and a bag placed over my head. My bracelet was, of course, removed.

I love car rides. I tried to imagine this was just another trip, it was just….dark out. At 9 in the morning. Yeah, and I had no idea where we were going. I would be trying to think of how I was gonna play this—whatever this was—but I genuinely didn’t think I had ever risked pissing Villain off. As a result, I was painfully unprepared for whatever was about to happen. I wanted to say how unnecessary this all was, that I would come willingly if asked, but something stopped me.

Fear. Something was wrong.

It was probably just a misunderstanding.

Probably.

I lost track of time and turns, instead just counting my breaths. In for four, hold for four, out for four, repeat. I successfully held my panic at bay and was able to stand on my own two feet when I was finally pulled out of the car and led to who-knows-where. I blindly shuffled all the way through somewhere to a chair in front of a table to which my ankles were secured. My hands were left free and the blinding sack was removed.

The ceiling was covered in fluorescent lights that my eyes struggled to adjust to. I dropped my gaze to the floor, which was clean white tile with a silver disk in the center. Villain stood by the door, and apparently the ride had given him enough time to re-craft his careful features back into a perfectly smooth slate. The air in the room was uncomfortably cold, enough to raise goosebumps on my arms if it weren’t for my jacket.

A proper interrogation, but for what.

“Empty your pockets onto the table.”

He was all nonchalance now, and it was extremely off-putting. He studied me closely, and I barely refrained from squirming under his gaze. In the spirit of cooperation(survival), I obeyed the order, laying out a substantial array of multi tools, first aid, gadgets, and more onto the table top. When I finished, Villain strolled over to the table, studying the items before swiping them into a bag which he settled by the door. All but a switchblade, which he left sitting closest to his side, out of my reach.

He rounded the table to my seat, gesturing for me to slide off my jacket—which he threw by the door, much to my chagrin—and kneeling to pat the rest of me down. He found nothing.

He was silent as he returned to sit in the chair opposite me across the table.

Logic told me to copy his stare and his silence, but my anger and confusion made me reckless. The urge to speak overrode my rational mind.

“Dude, what the fuck.”

Hopefully, that statement would confirm my innocence, as it was definitely designed to do. I was not at all pissed about the deliberate jacket move, or being dragged out of an important mission against my will. Humanizing myself. That’s good, right?

“What? Are you surprised your actions have consequences? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” His voice dripped with condescension.

He placed his hand over the switchblade and I came to the sickening realization that there was a drain in the floor.

“I thought you were smarter than this, I really did.”

“What the fuck,” I repeated slowly, “are you talking about?”

He stood, and the knife was open. I ignored the blade and kept my eyes locked on his.

“I cannot defend myself if I don’t even know what you think I did.”

“You do not play dumb with me. I do not give second chances.” His voice entered a register that I had never had the misfortune of hearing before.

This was not the man I knew. This man was somehow more dangerous, and he wasn’t making sense. He wasn’t listening.

“I wonder if you keep your knives sharp,” he spoke aloud with mock curiosity, twisting and turning the tip of the blade against his fingertip. He advanced around the table and I could do nothing to stop him. This stubborn, arrogant man was about to hurt me over nothing.

I had my hands, but they could not reason with him. They could only hold tightly over his wrist as he held the knife close to my skin. Rapid acceptance flushed through my brain as reality finally registered like a heavy weight descending upon my shoulders.

If he could be stubborn, so could I.

“Fuck you, Villain.”

The tip of the blade pierced the skin of my arm and I held my mouth firmly taut. He was cutting right above where the foundation and concealer covered the tattoo on my upper arm. The leaking blood was going to ruin my careful color correcting.

Blessedly, he skipped over the rest of the upper arm and focused his efforts on my lower arm instead, which he now held in an iron grip. I hated the feeling of being grabbed but I wouldn’t show it. He did not need any more power over me.

“You’ll take a lot for that man,” he noted incorrectly as he traced down my skin with the metal.

I was at a loss.

“For who?” The pain made my words fierce. I was angry and there wasn’t anything I could do about it except let it leech into my mouth.

“I am not an idiot, [real name].” He leaned in, and fuck him.

I seethed, “Apparently, you are, since you’re spending your time cutting up someone who doesn’t know shit about what you’re on about.”

The knife plunged deep into my forearm, and I gritted my teeth hard.

“Is he worth it?” Villain taunted.

“WHO?” I demanded, still trying to guess, to figure it out before I got diced like a vegetable but the pain made my brain foggy and I just couldn’t concentrate. The knife twisted slightly, and with it brought heat and a sickening pulling sensation.

This was not what I signed up for.

The blade came up to my face, mixing blood with sweat and the salt of involuntary tears as it slid across my cheekbone.

“To think, all this time, you were just [Politician]’s bitch,” he whispered.

Affronted was an understatement, but my offense was overridden by confusion.

“Who the fuck is-“ I stopped as the gears in my brain finally started to turn, greased by the crimson dripping across my skin.

“Are you talking about that asshole counselman?”

The gears were rusty but- what was his name? CM [Olitic]? [Politi]? [Politici- Politician]! CM [Politician]. The man I blackmailed into tipping me off about low-profile cases because he couldn’t keep his hands off interns? I was getting scored like sourdough dough with my own knife for HIM?!

Villain didn’t react, just continued to drag the knife down my neck and lined it up at my collarbones. He had to cut and pull my tank top down slightly for better access.

“You’re his spy. What have you told him?” He hummed, and I took a second to gather myself despite the biting pain.

“His WHAT. Where the fuck did you get that from because let me tell you I would not kill an ant for that man let alone spy for him-”

The knife slashed over my other collarbone, and I raged.

“ARE YOU INCAPABLE OF A CIVIL CONVERSATION? LISTEN, YOU ARE WRONG. Wrong. Use your fucking words.” I wanted to spell it out. One more cut and I would be sent over the edge. “You absolute. Mother. Fucker.”

“Just a loyal. Little. Dog.”

He punctuated his dig at my supposed obedience with a hand wrapped around my throat. Possessive.

Oh, so he was trying to make me angry. I really should have seen the angle earlier because damn him it was working.

I couldn’t keep giving him the satisfaction. I took one deep breath and then another, ignoring the sting it brought up across my chest, and the restriction around my neck.

“Ask me a question, and I’ll answer it.” I looked him dead in the eyes when I continued, “or kill me and go fuck yourself.”

“What is your deal with him?”

A silent sigh of relief. Finally, something productive.

“He tips me off for counsel cases,” I explained-rather graciously might I add, given the circumstances. “He didn’t ask me to do shit for him, nor would I. I am not his personal spy. I keep the association off his back, and that is it.”

I reserved a few more choice words about his questioning techniques and waited while he absorbed my response. I sounded far more civil than I felt.

“And why would he do that for you?”

I thanked every god I knew that he seemed to finally be playing ball. Words I could work with, knives I could not.

“Blackmail,” I answered simply.

“Explain.” He raised an eyebrow, and also my knife.

“The association opened a case on him for sexual harassment. I have evidence that would prove rather unsavory for him, I hold on to it in exchange for his information. Basically, he tells me shit and I don’t bury him.” I looked to Villain expectantly. I had nothing else to say on the matter.

He tilted his head. He wanted more, or worse, he knew I had more.

My lips stayed shut.

He had a dangerous glint in his eyes when he spoke, “You don’t withhold from me.”

“Since when. That was not part of our deal.” Anger, deeper and older, burned cold inside me.

“It is now.” It was not that simple.

“I gave you enough,” I told him. I intended my words to be final. He had no right to ask anything of me anymore.

“You don’t get to decide.” Like Hell I didn’t.

“It is none of your business,” I spit back.

“I’m making it my business.” He just kept going. What I wouldn’t give to wipe that self-assuredness right out of every cell in his body.

“Cut me again and I swear you’ll never hear another word out of my mouth,” I blustered. With every fresh drop of blood, he was taking a middle finger to our entire arrangement, everything I had built.

“I highly doubt that.” He flipped the knife around in his hands. He ran his eyes along each of my new, bloody, decorative lines. Fine, maybe I was all talk. But he definitely didn’t need to know that.

“Put the knife away.” I smiled sweetly, but I was getting angry again, and I was losing the will to stop it. My self control spilled out of me in the streams of crimson blood that ran down my face and chest and arms to where it would ultimately flush down the drain and leave me defenseless. Still, that was exactly what he wanted. I couldn’t let him win.

“Or are you too scared of an equal conversation?” I challenged. Two could play at the angering game.

Unfortunately for me, Villain was focused elsewhere and didn’t take the bait. He had found a thread and he intended to pull it.

“Tell me the proof.” Impressively, he just didn’t know when to stop.

“No.” Welcome, Villain, to the hill I was willing to die on. “You cut me up for being a spy, which I’m not. I didn’t break our deal, but you just did. I owe you nothing. I will give you nothing.”

I wanted to tell him that he would never see another cooperative action out of me for as long as I lived, that he should watch his back, that he should expect to see me again soon, but I still needed to live through this and threats were definitely not in my best interests. I wouldn’t betray myself like that.

My skin burned and my arm throbbed. My heart beat aggressively against my rib cage but my adrenaline was crashing. I hurt and I was tired and I just wanted this to be over.

All that trust, and all for nothing.

Villain did not get the hint that I was done. For real this time.

When he brought the knife back, I grabbed it. I pulled it towards me to catch him off guard, sinking it inches into the flesh of my hip before ripping it from his hand and flipping the blade back towards him. He must not have thought I would do it, because he stayed close enough for me to be able to sink the blade into his stomach before he wrestled my arms under control.

A second later, I couldn’t move and I knew it was over.

“I hope it fucking hurts,” I spit coldly, blinking away my burning tears.

A flash of something–maybe surprise?– passed briefly over his face. I hoped it was fear. I needed the win. Before this all got worse.

My wrists got strapped to the chair and Villain was out the door quickly, knife still sheathed in his abdomen. I rolled my head towards the ceiling, eyes unfocused and blinking out tears. I felt satisfaction, then something darker tried to push its way to the surface.

I paid it no mind, just breathed and let it pass. That wound would not be fatal.

Exhaustion soon sent me into a state that was a pitiful excuse for rest. My head rolled forward and the burning faded into the background. I floated for an indeterminate amount of time.

The door opened, closed. A prick. I didn’t care.

I dreamt in flashes of hands and grabbing and helplessness. Fingers, digging into my arm, pressure, where there shouldn’t be-

When I awoke, I was on a cot covered in a thin layer of sweat. I was confused by the freedom of movement and the light smell of laundry detergent. I must’ve slept like a rock, because my cuts were cleaned and my forearm bandaged. I was also bundled in my freshly-clean jacket.

What on Earth-

Was this a motel?

No sooner than thirty seconds after I sat up did the door open and none other than the devil himself appear.

“I figured we’d try again,” the ghost of a grimace passed over his face as his eyes landed on me. “…differently.”

I blinked.

Unconsciousness had returned a bit of my clarity, and if I looked closely, Villain appeared…sheepish. A slight hunch, face pained like he was trying hard not to avert his eyes. Was he…remorseful?

I almost laughed at the thought, but managed to maintain a plain face.

“Uh huh,” I sounded cautiously, shaking off the last of my sleep-induced disorientation. What exactly did that mean: differently?

I gathered something had changed, but I did not voice this, knowing the man in the doorway would never bother to explain himself to me.

Instead, I added humorously, “be a shame if I didn’t believe you.”

I rubbed my eyes and smiled ruefully and he actually looked away. Villain, the original Big Scary Man, was unable to make eye contact with me. Instead, he pointed out a bathroom and said he’d be back in five minutes. The win was too good to be true.

It wasn’t until I made to slide down my waistband that I remembered the self-inflicted wound on my hip. It had also been tended to, a medium size gauze pad taped over the opening.

Now that I was once again aware of its existence, I noticed certain movements did send a shooting pain along the skin and into the fat that had been cut. I wondered how I didn’t notice it earlier. I suspected I would find stitches if I removed the patch.

Carefully pulling the elastic back over the medical tape, I stood in front of the sink, cupping my hands under the faucet and drinking until it no longer burned to swallow. Water drenched the front of my tank, but I didn’t care.

I checked my bandages and studied the open cuts in the mirror. A few had the skin held together with butterfly closures, the rest slathered in Vaseline or Neosporin. I ran my fingers gingerly along the cut on my cheek and wondered if it would scar. Keeping still had worked in my favor though, it didn’t seem too deep.

My left arm took the brunt of the damage. The rose on my upper arm was uncovered and wiped clean, and I thanked several deities it was untouched. I opened and closed my fist to make sure the hole in my forearm didn’t take out anything too important. I was no doctor, but I determined it was probably fine. Villain knew what he was doing, after all.

I studied my reflection one last time, shrugging my jacket back over my arm carefully. I took in my face, discarding the uncertainty and anger and leaving my features assured and closed. The Villain special. I walked out the door.

Villain was waiting.

He didn’t touch me, instead we walked side by side back into the room I had woken up in, which now had an apple sitting on a table to the right when we walked in. Ignoring all of it, I went straight to sit on the bed. I didn’t know what to make of his complete 180, so I drew one knee up to my chest and waited. I let a little hope trickle into my thoughts.

Maybe it just took a good stabbing to force some common sense into Villain.

He paid my refusal to sit at the table no mind and just casually tossed the apple to me after taking his own seat. The hunger I felt must have been built over many, many hours because I did not hesitate to take a bite. And another. And another. The juice dripped down my chin and I didn’t bother to catch it.

Villain respectfully waited until my more ravenous bites had passed before he spoke.

“I propose a trade.”

I just about spit out my apple. Pushing past my knee-jerk response of dignifiedly telling him to “eat shit,” I studied the man to try and determine if he was being serious. His gaze was unwavering. He seemed to be waiting for me to respond, but I wasn’t exactly in a talking mood. I felt clearer but also…off.

“Information for information,” he continued.

Wow this was a really good apple. I turned it over and studied it in my hand. A gala, maybe?

He clarified, “I want your evidence on the counselman.”

Yeah, no shit. So he does know how to use his words after all.

My apple was reduced to just a core. I supposed I had to speak sometime, lest the knife make a reappearance.

“Do you slice, dice, and drug every person you want to make a deal with, or am I just special?” I cocked my head but cast my gaze past the table towards the door.

In my peripheral, I caught his face still impassive.

“I acted on bad intel.”

Villain? Explaining himself? And I thought anger-inducing Villain was scary. Remorseful Villain was straight up terrifying. I was probably reading too far into it, just telling myself what I needed to hear, but—if I squinted—I could imagine it was an apology.

But on further evaluation, I accepted that it was all an act. Every moment I’ve spent with him carefully crafted. This was just another angle.

But what could I do about it?

Knowing didn’t make it better. The cuts were real, my fear was real, my pain was real.

In the end, I still put myself into this world, and I wasn’t going to stop.

“And what do I get out of this?” I questioned. My life? To leave? Some negotiation that would be.

“What do you want?”

Putting the ball in my court is new. Concerning. Is this a trick? How badly does he want to bury this guy?

A terrible, horrible idea hit me. I wouldn’t. I shouldn’t.

I couldn’t resist.

“Apologize.”

I stood up, walking over to the table and taking a seat, looking him dead in the eyes, and waited.

It was his turn to blink.

For what I presumed to be the first time in his life, the man in front of me had been stunned to silence.

Because of me.

Joy flooded me with the thought.

“I-“ he coughed, and I smiled with a sweetness that would send anyone without a functioning pancreas scrambling for insulin.

“My apologies,” he started, and to his credit, it didn’t sound too forced.

“For?” I pushed, and the look in his eyes suggested I was seriously pushing my luck.

I didn’t care.

“For,” he forced out, “the ‘slicing’ and ‘dicing’. The drugging, I believe, was justified.”

“You stabbed me first,” I shrugged nonchalantly, adding, “You got a pen?”

He held my gaze for a moment, before slowly getting up to retrieve a branded notepad and pen from the nightstand across the room.

He slid them towards me, and I clicked open the pen with a motion that jolted my forearm. I hid my grimace and somehow refrained from dropping the writing utensil onto the carpeting. I wrote down the number with a degree of difficulty. I pushed it towards him, but kept my fingers on it for a second.

“Wait 24, then call it.”

I could tell he wanted to ask for more details, but he wisely considered this ordeal to be over and my civility worn out.

I walked right out the door, and he didn’t stop me.

I thought about trying to get word to the team, but decided against it. I wasn’t integral to the plan. They could go on without me, and most definitely had considering the importance of the mission and the estimated time I had been gone. If they even knew I had been taken—I seemed to remember the building we were using having cameras—the chances that they would interfere in my business were limited.

So I probably had about 12 hours, give or take. Long enough for a natural nap and a rushed processing session with fuzzy pajamas and ice cream. I would have also indulged in a nice warm bath, but unfortunately I was correct about the stitches, making the whole watery adventure ill-advised.

After I had totally-effectively self-cared the whole experience away, I went out on the town.

I was making a round up City avenue when I spotted a shadow trailing behind me.

Round two, baby. Let’s go.

I stopped, and the shadow closed in.

“What kind of game are you trying to pull?” The shadow confronted angrily.

“You didn’t call the number,” I stated plainly.

“I traced it. It comes back to one [full legal name]. Do you think this is funny? We had an arrangement.” I couldn’t say why, but his words just didn’t seem as scary.

“You’re one to talk about the sanctity of arrangements. We did have one. One that you spit on. Or have you already forgotten?” I could tell he wanted to advance on me, but he was hanging back. “Speaking of which, I don’t really know when to take these stitches out.”

“So you think you can just walk away from this?”

It didn’t seem like he really believed that. It didn’t really seem like he knew what to believe.

“‘I am not an idiot’, Villain.” I threw his words back at him. It was the least he deserved. “I don’t work with people who break my trust. I made an exception. Do I need to take it back?”

He’s smarter than this, isn’t he?

He took a single step forward.

“Wow, you are thick lately. I gave you exactly what you asked for but you just can’t open your eyes and see it.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” he held the scrap of paper up in a tight fist. “I asked for evidence, and if you’re not gonna give me what I clearly asked for-”

“Put your threats away and use your brain for once. Dust off the cobwebs and whatever the fuck has you so messed up and just think.”

I wasn’t angry, just exasperated. I knew my words were entering dangerous territory, but I felt they had to be said. This was not what I was used to dealing with. A brick wall would be more reasonable.

“If I was trying to trick you, I’d give you the number of the local pizza place. If you can’t get this I can’t help you.”

A pregnant pause.

“You,” he breathed.

Finally. A connect-the-dots champion.

“Me,” I confirmed.

“Witness?”

So close.

“Victim.”

I could almost hear the click. His whole demeanor shifted, his walls building back up, self-assuredness back in place.

“I see.”

He looked me up and down one more time with newly-appraising eyes before abruptly turning around and walking away. He melted back into the darkness, disappearing without so much as another word.

Asshole.

[emeritusemeritus]

Can I request studying with GoF twins for a new project they’re working on? Like with witty or flirty remarks before they start getting carried away? Just some fluffy young love. It sounds nice

You know GOF twins is my weak spot, that long hair has me drooling every time 🖤

Warnings: flirty banter, implied sexual remarks, mentions of underwear, teasing. More than friends, not quite lovers. Georgie is beautiful when he blushes. Fred has no chill.

Words: 1k

Questions Questions.

It's Saturday evening in the Gryffindor common room and for once it's pretty quiet, with most of the students third year and up still at Hogsmeade. Naturally, the twins and you had crept out earlier that morning through the passageways you knew like the back of your hand to Zonkos, before the rush of the school trip began. They needed some things for whatever they were working on, a new invention they were excited about, something you were trying to help them with.

It was peaceful now, the fire roaring, the proximity between you and the twins. You'd been best friends for years, practically since the moment you stepped onto the Hogwarts Express for the first time and it was no secret that you'd gotten a little closer with the twins over the years, your relationship changing as you got older.

"Can you invent anything that makes Ron's robes look not-nauseating to the female population?" You joke, leaning across to watch Fred's nimble fingers messing about with the contraption he was building. Fred pauses, letting out a belly laugh and George giggles along, face scrunching up in the cutest way.

"Ha! 'Fraid not princess," Fred says with a smirk, getting back to work whilst George makes some notes on a piece of parchment.

"What are you wearing?" George asks, briefly looking up at you, over your body, before jotting something down with his worn down pencil.

"George Weasley! You can't ask a lady that!" You say with a smirk, knowing that pointing out the secondary meaning of his words would rile him up. It works almost instantly, his cheeks heating up to a beautiful pink colour that you take great pride in. Fred snorts out a laugh, flicking his eyes between your delighted face and his brother's blush whilst he tinkers.

"So," Fred drawls out, voice dropping to dangerously flirty whisper. "What are you wearing?" He winks, looking at you up and down as if he had Mad-eye's magic eye to see under your clothes. You can't help but smile at him, his effortless boyish charm always flowing in abundance when he teased.

You raise one eyebrow, testing him and he simply smiles back with a little shrug.

"You said George, gotta be more specific princess."

You laugh along, nudging him slightly on the shoulder, the two of you sharing a little moment as your eyes fix on each other.

"I meant to the Yule Ball," George says quietly, still recovering from his little faux-pas. You turn to George and give him a little smile, always the sweet one.

"Oh I don't know yet," you answer honestly. Truthfully you hadn't really given it much thought, what with the tournament, your homework and helping them with their business, both the inventions and the gambling.

"Not got a date?" Lee pipes up behind you, appearing from over Fred's shoulder as he throws himself down onto the sofa next to George.

"Shove off Lee," you laugh, fixing him with a little mock glare.

"She's got two," Fred says proudly, his smile wide even though he doesn't actually look up from his work. Lee is called away only a few minutes later by someone in the second year and he leaves the three of you alone again, huddled close in the corner by the fire.

"I'm sure whatever you wear you'll look great," George says shyly, "I mean you look great all the time."

"Especially in that sundress," Fred chimes in, mentioning the dress you'd worn the last time you were at the Burrow in the summer. Both Fred and George had commented multiple times about their approval of the dress.

"Well unfortunately for you both, that dress and my yule ball dress are staying on. Guess you'll just have to imagine my underwear Eh Georgie?"

Fred let's out another boyish laugh and George blushes again, smiling to himself.

"So what are you actually working on?" You ask, realising that you didn't actually know what he was crafting, somehow missing the memo on this future prank.

"Never mind that, what colour's your underwear?"

"Fred!" George chastises his twin, even though he's laughing too.

"Red," you reply causally, watching carefully from the side of your eye to see their reaction.

Fred is rendered speechless, something you've never seen before and you're pretty sure you could see a blush forming underneath his drooping bangs, though he tries to hide it. George's mouth had transformed into a little 'o' which he fights to hide pretty quickly and to make matters worse you shoot him a little wink, which brings back the colour to his cheeks.

You sit for a while, falling into a comfortable silence, the three of you working on your divided tasks. You notice Fred wafting his long hair out of his face for the third time in an minute and decide to help him out.

"You'll never see anything like that, come here," you say, twisting around on the sofa and reaching up to gather his hair in your hand. It's soft and smooth, the perfect length for a small ponytail, even the slightly shorter front bits gather nicely until the hair obstructing his view is all out of his face.

He flashes you a thankful smile and for a moment it takes your breath away. Merlin he's gorgeous.

"You gonna plait mine next?" George teases, pulling you away from your focused gaze until you glare at him playfully. Only when you turn around do you notice that Lee has joined you all again, dropping some coins into the briefcase, having apparently been selling.

"Feeling left out Georgie? I'm thinking pigtails for you," you joke, earning a mock laugh from George but his sweet smile after let's you know he enjoys the playful banter. "Actually, please let me," you add with a pleading look in your eyes, actually wanting to get your hands on his hair.

"Only if you tell me something," he barters, smirking at you. You frown but nod anyway.

"Does your bra match your underwear?" He asks casually, as if he was asking for the time. He gives you the cheesiest smile he can and you burst out laughing at his supposed 'payment'. Fred bursts out with another laugh, completely ignoring the thing he was trying to construct as he throws his head back with a laugh.

"Rotten boys," you mumble, looking between the two giggling twins, never more thankful that this is your life.

[ameliesopp]

Hunting grounds - Dean Winchester x fem!oc

Warnings: english isn’t my first language. fluff//semi-smut but not really.

—

"This fucking place...I don't think we'll get a table here", Dean said as they entered the fully packed bar.

"Maybe we'll have to share a booth", Sam answered.

Dean scanned the room and then his face lit up. He grinned and pointed at one with a lone woman, maybe a little younger than him, pretty face, wavy dark hair, sipping a beer.

"How about that one?"

Sam sighed defeated.

"Dean..."

His brother was already gone, got himself a beer from the bar and then casually walked up to the booth.

"Hey. Mind if we sit?", Dean asked with his most charming smile and the woman looked up.

"Not at all, please."

"Thanks."

Dean sat across from her.

"I'll get us something to eat", Sam said and vanished towards the bar.

"What brings you guys here?", she asked curiously.

"Oh, uh...hunting trip", Dean said.

"Wendigos or deer?"

Dean almost choked on his beer.

"Come on. I can smell a fellow hunter from a mile away", she said snickering and he snickered, too.

"Well, then. I'm Dean Winchester, the big guy at the bar is my little brother Sam."

"Nice to meet you, Dean. May Cartwright."

"May. Cute name", he said and she made a face.

"Eh. My sister's called June, if we had a third sister she probably would have been July, so. Not exactly creative.”

He grinned and she chuckled.

"So. Wendigo?"

"Actually we were just passing through but, if you know something.."

"There's been three attacks this month. Bears, they say. Idiots."

"Huh."

"Where were you headed?"

"Downstate. But it's nothing that can't wait a day or two."

"What can wait a day or two", Sam said as he sat next to his brother, placing a burger and fries in front of him.

"There's a wendigo here, apparently", Dean informed him.

"Sam, this is May. May, Sam."

"Hey", she said smiling and he smiled back.

"Fellow hunter?"

"Yup, there's been three attacks, but they think it's bears", May informed him.

"Because they're all idiots", Dean added.

"Right", May nodded grinned, before emptying her beer.

"Want some help?", he offered and May nodded.

"Please. If you're not too busy. Wendigos aren't exactly my favorite, especially not alone."

"Sure. You got it", Dean said.

Sam shot him a look.

"We...were on our way to-"

"Dude. There's a lady in dire need of our help, here. It can wait a day", Dean insisted and May snickered.

"Well, I appreciate it, guys."

Sam turned his head.

"Do you know that guy over there? Second table on the left."

"Nope. Why?"

"He's been staring at you."

"Since I got here. Which is part of the reason I'm still here, I had hoped he'd leave", she sighed, stroking a dark brown strand of hair out of her face.

"Where are you staying?"

"Motel. Other side of town."

"Got a car?"

"At the motel."

"All right, no problem. I'll drop Sam at our Motel and then you at yours. Make sure you get there safely", Dean said chewing. Sam shot him a look that said "I know exactly what you are doing".

And May did, too. But she didn't mind. Dean was really cute. Beautiful green eyes. Pretty smile. And she wouldn't have minded blowing off some steam.

"That would be amazing", she said with a smile and Dean winked at her.

She stole a fry off his plate and winked back, making him grin even more, fry caught between his lips.

Oh yeah, she had him right where she wanted him.

Same let out a little sigh. He was used to his brother's constant flirting. And the flirting back.

Dean finished his burger.

"All right, sweetheart, let's get this show on the road."

They got up and he threw some money on the table before following her outside.

"Whoa. Nice car!", May said impressed.

"Thanks. It's a sixty-"

"-seven Impala. I know", she said and got into the backseat.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

"I think I'm in love with her", Dean said and Sam grinned as they got into the car.

Ten minutes later they had dropped off Sam at the motel and were headed towards hers, chatting about their lives.

"So. How did you get into hunting?", Dean asked when they stopped at a red light.

"Born and raised", she said chuckling.

"My dad was a hunter."

"Yeah, mine, too", Dean said and she had to smile.

"He still alive?", he asked and she nodded.

"Retired. After a vamp almost got him. Now I'm taking over. My sister never wanted this life but...I don't think there was any point in running away for me. I would have ended up here one way or the other."

"Yeah, me, too. It's a calling."

"Yeah, exactly."

"Is he a good dad?", Dean asked and she had to smile.

"He was a great dad growing up. Sure, he was on the road a lot, but... Taught us everything. When we said there was a monster in the closet he did something about it. He'd check under the bed, ridle in his hand, like it wasn't a game. I think he needed it as much as we did. Showed us how to protect our rooms, so we would feel safe. Taught me how to shoot, sent me to martial arts and self defense classes - but he also bought me my first lipstick and my first princess dress. He always said balance is the most importsnt thing in life."

She snickered at the memory and Dean had to smile.

"Well, sounds like you had a good childhood."

"Yeah. I really did."

"That's great. Happy for you."

"You didn't?"

"No, I mean...it sure as hell wasn't perfect. Mom got killed when I was a kid. Sam was still a baby. My dad never was the same after that. Taught us most things we know, but...I don't know. Don't get me wrong, he was not a bad father. Certainly could have done better, though. He did what he thought was right. Even when it broke us."

He swallowed and May tilted her head knowingly.

"Let me guess. Veteran?"

"Got it in one. Marines."

"My grandpa, too. They all come back a little messed up. Even if it's just from training."

They were silent for a second.

"Sounds like he meant a lot to you, though", she eventually noted.

"Yeah. He...kind of sacrificed himself for me, so...I know we meant a lot to him, too."

"Of course you did, you're his children. What father wouldn't die for his children?"

"Yeah, fair point, I guess."

He pulled into the parking lot of the motel and she pointed at one of the rooms.

"Over there."

Dean pulled into one of the parking spots in front of her room.

"Hey, uhm...thanks", May said. "For taking me home. And also...for not trying to hit on me now that I'm in your car and can't get away", she said with a little wink and he grinned as he turned off the ignition.

"Yeah, I'm not gonna lie, it is hard."

"Oh, I bet it is", she said, looking him directly in the eyes.

That was definitely a dirty joke. A tease, almost a challenge. He saw it in her brown eyes, her dilated pupils. What are you gonna do now, Dean Winchester?

He leaned slightly forward, licking his lips.

"It really is."

"Do you maybe wanna...come in for... a nightcap?", May asked innocently and Dean grinned.

"Hell yeah."

She smirked as she got the room key out of the pocket of her worn out leather jacket to open the door.

"Make yourself comfortable, I guess", she grinned and he sat on the kingsize bed.

"Nice. Nicer than ours."

"Yeah well, I actually let people pay me if I get rid of the ghost in their house", she snickered.

"Huh. That's not a bad idea."

She giggled and dropped her jacket onto a chair. She was wearing a tight tanktop and tight jeans and it was messing with his head a little. Especially as she leaned down to grab two beer cans from the mini bar.

Then she sat next to him, both leaning against the wall behind the bed, and she placed her legs over his lap.

Dean just chuckled as he placed a hand on her thigh.

He had big, strong, warm hands. And she kind of wanted them all over her body.

But instead they just sat there, talking, drinking beer and eating chips as they watched TV.

"What's your favorite way to kill a Wendigo?", he asked.

"Flamethrower", she said chewing.

"Are you the coolest chick I've ever met?"

"Probably, yeah", she giggled and he laughed a little.

"Well, we killed one with those emergency flare things."

"Resourceful", she noted and he grinned again.

"Yeeah, we made it work. Hiking out in biker boots and jeans."

"Well, who wears shorts in the woods?! You're gonna get ticks."

"I so fucking wanna kiss you right now, wow."

May had to laugh and then sat up to climb onto his lap. "Then do it, coward. Thought you Winchester's weren't scared of anything."

"Oh, nobody calls me a coward, sweetheart", he said, grabbed her face and pressed his lips onto hers.

One of his hands rested on her waist, the other gripped her hair, her hands running through his hair and down his neck.

He pulled her top up and over her head, then took off his shirt.

She had a bunch of tattoos, but he didn't have time to take a closer look at them, because she wasted no time taking off her bra, too.

Dean attached his lips to her collarbone as he pushed her onto her back, her legs wrapped around his hips.

His lips left a trail of kisses down her chest and stomach, along one of her tattoos, then he opened the button on her jeans and she helped him shuffle it off.

He bit his lip at her Calvin Klein underwear and she grabbed the back of his neck to pull him up for another kiss, at the same time getting busy with opening his belt.

It landed on the floor, his jeans followed soon.

May flipped him onto his back to kiss him, her necklace dangling down against his chest, his hands running up her back into her hair, and then he pulled her head back to kiss down her throat.

A soft moan escaped her lips, which in turn made him growl softly as he pushed her onto her back again, hurrying to finally undress her completely.

May bit her lip as his mouth wandered down her upper body and when he reached his destination a deep sigh followed by a hum of pleasure came from her lips, her legs over his shoulders, her hands running through his hair and her eyes flew shut as her brain shut off.

Dean woke up with his arm over her hip, her back against his chest, he pulled her a little closer and kissed her on the cheek as she slowly opened her eyes.

"Hey", she said softly and turned onto her back.

"Hey."

"You okay?"

"I'm doing fantastic, sweetheart. You good?"

"Yeah. Last night was fucking amazing."

"Oh yeah? Glad to hear that", he grinned and bowed over her again.

"Mmh. You did so well", she told him, making him bite his lip before he kissed her again, when his phone rang and interrupted their moment.

"Oh shit. It's Sam."

He answered the call.

"Hey. Yeah, I'm still with May...yeah, we'll be over soon."

He hung up and rubbed his face.

"Shit. Okay. We need to hurry."

"We definitely both need a shower. So...might be quicker if we do it together", she said and he nodded as he rubbed his face.

"Yeeah, sounds like a plan. Where even are my clothes?"

"Somewhere on the floor."

She got up and he watched her naked figure disappear in the bathroom, where he soon followed her.

"I thought you wanted this to be quicker", he said when she pulled him into the shower and kissed him.

May made a face.

"I obviously lied, Dean."

Dean grinned.

"I like you, you know that?"

"Mh. You should."

And then she kissed him again.

Forty-five minutes later they stopped in front of the motel, Sam was already waiting for them, looking more than a little annoyed.

"Seriously, Dean?"

"What? She started it!", he defended himself.

"I did start it", she nodded and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Are you guys gonna be able to do this without it being awkward?"

"Why would it be awkward? We're adults, we can handle this", she said as she opened the door to the backseat and threw her backpack into the car.

Dean nodded very seriously, hands in his pockets, and his little brother raised a brow.

"You just had to do this, hm."

"Have you seen her? Uh, yeah, I had to do this", Dean said with a smirk and got into the car, too. "Don't be jealous."

"I'm not jealous!"

Sam followed him and Dean started the car with a grin.

"Nice. AC/DC", May noted when the music started.

"Oh, you like rock?", Dean asked.

"Sure. My dad raised me on Mötley Crüe, AC/DC and Stones."

"Good taste. You like Zeppelin?"

"Sure."

Dean exchanged a look with Sam that said "see I had to" and skipped to the next song.

After about half an hour of driving through the sleepy town and the outskirts of it they arrived at the edge of the nearby forest.

"This couldn't have waited until afterwards?", Sam hissed when he saw Dean check out May's ass.

"Nope. Absolutely not. It was...god, Sammy, I can't even begin to describe it."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"You need to get laid, little brother", Dean told him with a grin and May leaned against the car, also grinning.

"I know someone."

"See? She knows someone", Dean said, nodding at Sam.

"Shut up. Both of you."

"Or what?", May asked laughing.

"I'll feed you to the Wendigo", Sam said, playfully shoving her shoulder and she laughed.

"Not if I feed you to him first!"

"Oh, that I'd like to see!", he replied grinning and they continued their banter as they walked into the woods.

Dean had to grin as he shouldered his backpack to follow them.

Sammy liked her. Good.

Because if he was being honest with himself he didn't want this to be a one time thing. He was crushing hard on her already, maybe he could talk Sam into keeping her close for a little while.

Especially because he definitely wanted to get his hands on her again.

She had felt like she was made for him, he had never felt that with a girl before. Not even with Lisa.

May was different, special. He wanted more, couldn't get enough of her.

It had started to snow the night before, and so the path they were following was covered in blinding white.

The frost-laden forest was eerily silent as May adjusted the strap of her crossbow. The biting wind swirled through the trees, carrying with it the faint metallic tang of danger. Dean, who had caught up to them, now walked just ahead of her, his shotgun at the ready, and his signature leather jacket did little to block the cold.

"Next time we're taking a case in Miami," Dean muttered, shooting May a look over his shoulder.

She smirked, tucking a loose strand of chestnut hair into her beanie. "Oh, come on. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Back in the Impala with the heater on full blast," he shot back, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his enjoyment of their banter.

"Need me to warm you up, Winchester?", May offered grinning.

"Careful, I might just take you up on that."

"Stop flirting", Sam said, "and focus on the task at hand, please."

May placed a hand on his chest, stopping him.

"Tracks," she whispered, pointing to the ground. Deep impressions marred the snow, leading deeper into the forest.

Dean crouched beside her, studying the marks. "Fresh. It's close."

His tone was all serious now, fully focused, but May caught the way his hand hovered near hers as he rose, just for a second, but obvious none the less.

As they moved forward, the forest seemed to close in around them, the shadows growing longer. May's heart pounded in anticipation, her fingers tightening around her crossbow.

A sudden rustle to their left made all three of them spin. Dean raised his shotgun, but it was only a rabbit darting away.

"Jumpy much?" May teased, though her own nerves were fraying, heart racing.

"Don't act like your heart isn't pounding, I can hear it from here", Dean just said grunpily and she giggled softly.

Sam gently nudged her shoulder and now she heard it, too. A low, guttural growl. It shifted to the left, then behind them, like a predator circling its prey, and they all spun around, following the noises.

"Incoming", Dean warned, and they all readied their weapons as the Wendigo burst through the woods with a sudden jump.

May flinched, immediately firing a dart at it. It hit its target, penertating the Wendigo's chest.

The monster let out a screech as it but it didn't stop. It launched towards her.

Dean immediately pushed her out of the way, both rolling over the cold, hard forest earth.

Dean turned onto his back, shooting at the monster still coming at them, and then Sam fired at flare at the Wendigo.

It burst into flames, screeching and howling as it collapsed into a pile of ashes.

Dean and May were both panting as they looked up.

"Nice shot. Both of yoh", Dean said.

"Thanks."

Sam held his hand out for him, helping him up, then Dean helped May up.

She made a face, rubbing her shoulder.

"Thanks for tackling me out of the way, but that hurt."

"Sorry, sweetheart, but that thing eating you would've hurt a lot more."

He gently fixed her beanie.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

She shouldered her crossbow and Dean placed a hand on her back as he lead her back towards Baby.

"I want to keep her around", Dean told Sam softly.

"What? Why?"

"Because I like her, okay? You had your chance with...Amelia and whatever their names were, this might be my chance at something real. I don't wanna miss out on that. Don't ruin it for me."

"I'm not ruining anything. I like her and she seems capable. If you think dragging her along is a good idea, fine. Be my guest. But be sure she's ready for that. You know we don't do casual, Dean."

"I know."

He got into the car, where May was already getting comfortable in the backseat.

"Hey, so, uh...Sam is cool with you sticking around for a while. Hunt with us and stuff", Dean said and May raised a brow.

"So you asked him before you asked me if I even wanted that?"

Dean furrowed his brows, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uuh..."

May snickered as she shook her head.

"That's kinda cute, not gonna lie. Yeah. I'd be happy to stick around for a while."

"Great. Welcome aboard, then."

[therandomhalfrussian]

Ronnie Petersons chronicles #12

Ronnie Peterson and Reine Wisell before the Formula 1 Grand Prix at Oulton Park, England.

Sorry for the late post, I broke my index finger (just like Reine..)this Sunday so I have had to resort to translating and formatting everything on my mobile phone instead of my laptop. Because of this the chronicles take significantly longer to translate so you will have to excuse my lateness and eventually problems with the formatting.

The last part, the one under the “••••••••” is a comment someone wrote on this chronicle in Teknikens Världs online page. I thought it was way too hilarious to not add.

Do excuse any grammatical errors, English is not my first language. “(italics)” is my explanation of things.

Chronicle 12 below:

“I flew high up into the air, landed with a crash”

(Late May, unspecified location in England)

“As a racing driver you have quite the dramatic life, but for me the most sensational thing for me is when you suddenly have a weekend off in the middle of the season. That is exactly what happened after the Monaco Gran Prix.

Barbro and I took the opportunity to go home to Örebro. Guess if it was nice to relax with moms meatballs and all that… I had not been home since January. You do not exactly wear down your home soil.

But then the seriousness started again. The weekend after I had a double program with the 1000 km-race at Nürburgring, apart of the sports cars world championship, during the Sunday and a Formula 1-race at Oulton Park in England the next day.

Rain, rain, rain. It is amazing how bad the weather is at almost every race this year. It was the same at Nürburgring, it poured down during the entirety of practice.

Fastest in the soap-like conditions

Nürburgring, with its hundreds of curves and many hills, is a difficult track even when it is dry. To manage 400 horsepower when the track is drenched does not make it easier, trust me! I do not know how it happened but I managed to slide myself into the best practice-time so me and Tim Schenkens Ferrari got the best starting position.

We in the Ferrari team gambled with rain tires even though the rain was supposed to end shortly before start while Alfa and Mirage put on intermediate tires, they are like a compromiss between rain- and dry tires.

The first four-five laps we Ferrari drivers managed to drive way ahead, but when the track dried our competitors gained on us. The Mirage went alarmingly fast — it was Derek Bell and Gijs van Lennep who drove — and even went up into the lead for a while when we were forced to pit for extra time to change the rain tires.

Regazzoni crashed — and I won

My teammates Jacky Ickx and Clay Regazzoni went past the Mirage after a while and I followed. But we were still threatened so I got ordered to catch up with Regazzoni, who apparently felt threatened. Either way he drove off the track and crashed the car!

That was not really the point of the team order, but at least there was still a Ferrari in the lead. The Mirage threatened us for most of the race but near the end got an engine failure. Instead the third Ferrari with Brian Redman and Arturo Merzario as its drivers went up to second place ahead of Alfa Romeo. Joakim (‘Jo’) Bonnier was sixth in his Lola.

Tim and I could not celebrate our victory for long. We had to go directly to England and the next race. I just had a shower and some food at the hotel, then we drove to Köln for the next part of the trip with a private plane to Manchester.

Rather racecar than plane

It was surely a trip! I had hoped that I would have time to relax with a comfortable planerise after a thousand kilometers of driving — and it starts blowing a full storm! We had head-wind the entire time and the wind strength was up to 27 meters per second. The plane almost stood still sometimes and the trip took double the time planned. At least we arrived. But it might be calmer driving a racecar…

A few hours of sleep and then up early so I could practice before the race. Rain as usual! I drive a new car, a modified copy of the car I drove in Monaco. It has a Hewland gearbox and a new rear suspension with standing shock-absorbers instead of ones lying down. It went fantastic and since I have never been to Oulton Park before, nobody was more surprised than me when it turned out I had driven fastest out of everyone.

But the others had driven on the track while it was dry, so I still ended up in the fourth starting row. But I am an optimist. In front of me stood Reine Wisell in his Marlboro-BRM. When the flag fell I accelerated past him and was a nose-length in front when we reached the first turn. Then it happened.

Reine broke his finger when we collided

Do not ask me how it happened — everything went so fast. Reine somehow got his front wheel in between my left wheels — maybe he got touched by someone else — and we collided into each other.

My car flew high into the air, landed with a crash and spun around several times in the middle of the racing cars before it stopped in the middle of the track with a cracked rim and punctures. Other than that there was not a scratch on the car and it did not flip, like they said in a newspaper

At first it looked like Reine also had gotten out of the crash somewhat fine — since he continued his lap into the pits. But he had gotten a nasty hit and broken an index finger that had to be casted. I feel really bad for Reine, who will probably be gone for a month or so and now will miss both the Belgium Grand Prix and Le Mans.

I hope he gets better before July because then he will drive a Bonnier-Lola at Watkins Glen in the USA. It is the CanAm-series and that means large money.

When I have finished this chronicle Barbro and I will go into London to shop and run some errands. It is important to use your time wisely when you have some time off. Then it is away to Belgium for the nexy world championship-race in Formula 1.

Peterson — the incurable optimist

I have been optimistic before most of the F1-races this year — and been bitterly disappointed after. But I still believe my luck shall change. Because the car went so nicely during the practice at Oulton Park I believe I have a good chance in Belgium.

The track we drive at has never been driven with Formula 1-cars. It is called Nivelles and is quite short which I believe will fit my driving style. Unfortunately I have not been able to practice there yet. Us F1-drivers, excluding Jacky Ickx, are quite happy to not have to drive the dangerous Spa-Francorchamps track.

After Nivelles it is time for the 24 hour-race at Le Mans. I cannot exactly say I am looking forward to Le Mans with enthusiasm. It is a boring and quite dangerous race for us drivers. But it is an important race to win, even though Ferrari has already secured the sports cars world championship.

The problem will be to get the cars to actually last. The so called sports cars we drive are practically overbuilt Formula 1-cars. A F1-car is built to last around two hours. In the sports cars the motors are shaved down so the bits will last for six hours. Now the cars have to last for 24 hours!

Ferrari and Alfa Romeo are quite reliable but Lola and Mirage usually do not even last a usual six hour race. Let us see if the constructors know magic.

Me myself believe the Matra cars are gonna be hyper-dangerous. I know they have been tested intensively and they are investing extremely hard to win Le Mans specifically.

Imagine to start in the Swedish Grand Prix!

Then it is back to Sweden again — but not to race. I am going to show off the March at Anderstorp and at the same time get to feel the track a little. Anderstorp is hopefully getting a Grand Prix next year. Guess if me and Reine are excited about showing us in Sweden's Grand Prix!”

••••••••

“Lovely to read Ronnie's old chronicles. A driver with both heart and brain.

But sometimes he was a bit crazy.

I remember that he wrote in a chronicle about the problems with gravity in the turns. One track especially caused a lot of overexertion in the neck muscles. Before the race he drilled a hole in the helmet and a hole in the cars body. Then he screwed a chain between the helmet and body to keep his head still and relieve the muscles.

‘Lucky for me that I did not crash and got thrown out of the car in that race’ was his comment.”

— An user called “Christerrr”, 2022.

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

You can find the original chronicle and comment (in Swedish) here.

Again with the ‘soap-like conditions’.. It’s not even the translation that makes it sound weird, it is genuinely what he writes in Swedish too.

Also Ronnie, why was he the most stereotypical Swede ever?? Him loving his mother’s meatballs. I am once again stunned by the realization that he was just a normal guy. Like I get he is not some otherworldly being but I never expected him to be so relatable! Him being so excited for Anderstorp… Ugh my heart!

And insane. Why did he chain his helmet to his car. Not just getting thrown out, what if he crashed at all?? The car caught on fire?? In one of the notoriously dangerous eras of F1 too! No wonder people describes him as slightly insane all the time.

Thank you for reading, if you notice anything wrong or have anything I can improve on please tell me!

[goddess-in-heaven-and-hell]

One does not joke about the Bodleian (BR) Pt. I - A modern Gwynriel One-Shot

In this first part of my next little mini-series, Gwyn and Az face each other as academic rivals in a university setting. I hope you like it :)

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none

Gwyneth Berdara never thought she’d say this, but if she has another coffee, her brain will explode with a 87% probability.

She knew she should have consumed her first cup exactly 90 minutes after waking up, like her professor and podcast-god Dr. Huberman told her to, but something about her roommates blaring the radio at six in the morning had convinced her otherwise. The second cup right after on her way to class hasn’t helped, and the third in-between lectures had her hands shaking and her eyes twitching. Then, the heavy lunch that followed contributed plenty to her tiredness… which left her nervous system frantically switching between wired and close to death.

“Gwyn, some space please.”, a slightly annoyed voice from beside her commanded, pushing a stray note back into her periphery. Gwyn grabbed the piece and stuck it to whatever folder she held in her hand – genomics – before returning the heavy study material to her backpack.

“Sorry, Em, but I can’t seem to find the assignment.”, she murmured, leafing through the stacks of paper in front of her and resolutely refusing to adhere to her friend’s command. The prestigious and extremely well-funded university of Oxford liked their students to hand in printed assignments in addition to electronic ones. Apparently, they liked to pretend they were still in their founding century.

Emerie leaned into her field of view completely which left Gwyn to examine her friend’s scalp instead of her notes. “I’ve literally just seen the thing.”

“Aha!”, a triumphant Emerie sat back up, the missing assignment held up in victory. “Now you can collect yourself another 95% and the cry about the five missing-“

Emerie was rudely interrupted, Gwyn’s assignment ripped straight out of her hands. “Jack!”

With a grin that showed more teeth than friendly banter, Jack Irwin leaned back in his chair behind them, the pieces of paper completely out of reach for both women.

“I will be holding these hostage until you finally set a date to go out with me like you promised.”, his deep and honeyed voice explained, eyes boring into Gwyn’s bright teal ones like that might elicit a nice response. Beside her, Emerie sighed out a long breath, anticipating the everlasting and borderline painful conversation that was about to start.

Just like it did every week around this time.

“Jack, keeping me from my assignment isn’t going to get you any points in my book.”, Gwyn explained to him slowly, reaching out her hands for him to hand it over. If he behaved like a toddler, she’d treat him like one.

Jack pretended to think about that for a second, his bland face scrunched in concentration. “Nope.” The popped ‘p’ grated on Gwyn’s nerves more severely than his smug expression. Why did he have to make every exchange of words so damn difficult? She felt a headache starting between her brows and it wasn’t even two in the afternoon.

“I give you exactly five seconds before you’ll see me empty out my water bottle over your MacBook”, the redhead levelled him a glare, trying to convey the severity of this situation by staring a hole through his useless head. Today really wasn’t the day to test her.

Jack stopped balancing on his chair, leaning over his desk and coming really too-damn-close into her personal space. “It’ll be all worth it if I end up taking you out this Friday.”

“Let it go!”, she snapped, lunging over the table separating them and nearly ripping her assignment in two as she snatched it back, “It won’t happen, no matter how hard you try to guilt-trip or blackmail me.”

She felt more than she saw the atmosphere between them change. Jack’s previously playful and cocky air darkened. His mouth was just about to form a reply when he was thankfully interrupted.

“Good afternoon, class.”

Gwyn turned around with a relieved sigh, shooting an apologetic look at her now crumpled papers. I’m so sorry you were tainted by unworthy hands. For a second, she could have sworn the ink winked at her – that’s when she decided to quit coffee for good.

Her professor had made his way to the front of the small lecture hall, preparing his lesson while students started to file towards him. Emerie and Gwyn soon joined them, checking in on the attendance list, turning in the assignment and dutifully ignoring the dirty looks Jack shot their way. But as Gwyn finished her weekly signature, her gaze snagged on something peculiar.

You see, the lecture and course were so intimate that it was possible to know every student by name. After all, not many were suicidal enough to enroll in Oxford’s biology M.A. program. Therefore, when another student joined the course, people usually noticed immediately. And as Gwyn stared at the table containing their names, her brows drew together in confusion.

Definitely too much coffee.

She snorted to herself, finding her place and slumping back into it next to Emerie.

“I seriously need to watch the caffein.”, she started, leaning over to her friend and lowering her voice, “Can you believe I read one of the names on the attendance list as ‘Azriel’?”

She snickered, not noticing how Emerie had to bite down on a broad smile. “I mean, what kind of person is named like that? An angel? A fucking warrior prince from ancient times that turns into a dragon every full moon?”

In her head, it was kind of funny. And Gwyn would be lying if she didn’t immediately think of her usual, private reading material and all the kinds of things someone named ‘Azriel’ might be up to.

Emerie shrugged, getting her notes and laptop ready for class. “You probably read it wrong. I bet his name is Andy or something.”

Gwyn made a noncommittal noise while copying Em as their professor looked around the room expectantly.

“Has anybody seen a Mr. Hawthorne?”, he called into the void of sleep-deprived students. Some people shook their heads while others just stared back blankly, waiting for him to get on with it and not caring in the slightest for whatever happened with the guy. As Gwyn didn’t know an answer to the professor’s question, she made a mental list of names that ‘Hawthorne’ went with.

Andy Hawthorne sounded weird, the family name too overpowering. Andrew Hawthorne might have a nice ring to it, but then it also gave off a pretentious vibe. Aiden, Alexander – it definitely wasn’t Alexander – maybe Austin? Austin Hawthorne?

The door swung open, interrupting the opening words of the professor as well as Gwyn’s encyclopedia of names. And in the doorway, nearly filling out the whole damn thing, stood the most beautiful man Gwyn did ever see.

“Ah”, the professor noticed him as well, hurrying over to the attendance list as roughly thirty-five pairs of eyes switched their attention on the newcomer, “Azriel Hawthorne, biology M.A.?”

No. Freaking. Way.

The stranger nodded, quickly signing the form and thanking the professor quietly before his gaze fell onto the rest of the class in search for a seat. And Gwyn could have sworn a faint sigh left every female in the room collectively.

His face was carved from the gods. Angular, sharp, symmetrical. Full eyebrows framing the most glowing brown eyes a human ever saw. Dark strands of hair falling onto his forehead while the sides and back were shaven neatly. Muscles – Gwyn had to swallow to save her dry throat from suffering irreparable damage – and more muscles that bunched over his tight black shirt.

And from her place way too high up in the stands, Gwyn had to witness how her classmates flung themselves out of the way to offer him more seats than he could ever place his butt on, even if he switched every time they had the lecture until the end of the semester.

Azriel chose a seat in the second row, nodding his thanks to the blushing blonde who’d nearly sacrificed her friend’s well-being while forcing her to scooch over.

And when he moved to pull out his laptop, Gwyn’s idealist image of a man was complete. He had tattoos covering his whole arms, their inky swirls peeking out from underneath the sleeve.

“You haven’t blinked in like a full minute. It’s not healthy.”, Emerie whispered from beside her, amusement shining from her face as she seemed to be the only person with a uterus to not be too phased by his existence. And let’s face it, even some of the guys shot him more than curious glances.

Yet, all Gwyn could do was stare like a total creep, ignoring for the first time since starting university what the professor was lecturing about.

Emerie was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to ramble some kind of justification to conceal her embarrassment. It didn’t come. Gwyn’s brain had suffered a short circuit.

Put simply, the woman was too stunned to speak.

“Oh, Lord save us all.”, Emerie muttered before dutifully turning her attention to the professor. And as her friend concentrated in order to learn about cell biology and signaling, Gwyn was quickly learning that she had a type.

…

“So, what did he do to have all your panties in his power within one lecture?”, Nesta asked Emerie and Gwyn as they met in the cafeteria that evening, exchanging the latest gossip over their pasta. And no other topic was ever more news-worthy than the arrival of Mr. Azriel Hawthorne. In fact, Gwyn was sure it was discussed thoroughly at every single table containing at least one biology student.

“Tell her Gwyn,” Emerie was already laughing beside her, drawing way too much malicious joy from this situation.

Gwyn faced her spaghetti. “Well, he kind of… just walked in, took his seat, then left.”

Nesta’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “That’s it? Did he have some magical pheromone perfume? No guy is just that attractive.”

“Who is attractive?”, a booming voice saved Gwyn from further scrutiny. Cass, Nesta’s boyfriends and physiology student, slumped into the seat next to her and delivered a smacking kiss to her cheek. “Talking about me again Nes? You’ll make them jealous!”

Nesta observed him for a moment, her usually harsh eyes turning softer. “Actually, we were discussing the new Adonis gracing Gwyn’s and Emerie’s class. What was is name again?”

But before Gwyn could respond, Cassian interrupted the women with a long-suffering expression. “Please, not you too!”

The girls exchanged a look before turning their full attention on Cass.

“How is every single woman in this whole college obsessed with the guy? He has been here for half a day. Half a day! And I overheard some girls in all of my classes talking about strategies to get him to go out with them.”, he scoffed, angrily assaulting his bread roll with his teeth. “I meam – wats fo cool abowt him?”

Nesta quickly shushed him before he could grace the women with a full view of corroded bread.

“Stop being so butt-hurt. You’re still our number one guy.”, Emerie reached out to pat his hand while he shot her puppy-eyes that clearly spoke of how much he needed to hear that. But for all the love she felt towards Cassian, Gwyn found herself hesitant to agree.

And it was so stupid. She didn’t even know him, only stared at the back of his head for the better part of an hour. Mind you, it was a very nicely shampooed head. But for all she knew, he could be a complete jerk, smelly, aggressive, or even worse – negligent in his studies.

He hadn’t seemed like it in class though, typing away on his computer, eyes never straying from the board. And if that wasn’t the hottest thing about him, Gwyn didn’t know what to think anymore.

With a tad bit of overexcitement, Roslin fell onto the chair beside Gwyn, slamming her tray of food so forcefully it rattled the whole hall. “I’ve got news everyone!”

“Finally Rosi, feed me some fucking gossip that isn’t to do with the biology bloke.”, Cassian leaned towards her, happy now that the center of attention shifted.

Or not.

“Azriel Hawthorne has a girlfriend!”, Roslin exclaimed with wide eyes, causing Cass to fall back on his chair dramatically while Nesta broke out in laughter. But Gwyn wasn’t laughing. Decidedly.

“How do you know?”, she asked, voice lowering into a whisper.

“Well, you know Amy from biochem?”

Gwyn nodded, the faint image of a short haired, petite girl forming in her mind.

“Apparently, she was paired with him for their practicals earlier today. And since she was the first girl to tie him down into a conversation, she wanted to make her move quickly. Asked him out, but he politely declined with that explanation. I just met her in the hallway. She’s mortified.”, Roslin rattled down the story with the speed and intensity of a news-moderator.

And with that information, Gwyn’s excitement exited her body in a big swoop, leaving her mentally and physically exhausted. Which was ridiculous – never in a million years did she imagine herself going up to him, or even talking to him, really. But the daydream was nice while it lasted.

“Amy said he was super nice, though”, Roslin continued while now focusing her attention on her food as well, having delivered the most interesting piece of news, “He pulled out the chair for her. And went to clean her pipette and scales without her asking. Not much of a talker, but very focused on his studies.”

Something shriveled up and died inside Gwyn, and it might have been her hope for a guy who encompassed exactly these qualities. Because how likely was she going to find two of those in a lifetime?

Gwyn stabbed into her pasta with new rigor, willing to bury her emotions with carbs.

And just as she stuffed her face full with them, angrily chomping with sauce getting caught in the corners of her mouth, she heard his voice again.

Right behind her.

Saying her name.

“Gwyneth Berdara?”, the deep and velvety soft voice of Adonis-Azriel Hawthorne filled her ears and before she could just stop herself to think for a second, she already rotated in her chair to stare up at him, face still full of pasta.

“Mhough?”, she choked out, nearly killing herself in her eagerness to engage in a conversation with him. In hindsight, she kind of wished that a piece of pasta went into her respiratory tracks then and there.

Azriel’s gaze flickered from her reddening face to a piece of paper he held clutched in his hand while Gwyn fought the hard battle of chewing as fast as she ever chewed in her life.

“I realize it’s a bad time and I’m sorry to interrupt. But Professor Huberman gave me your name in the hopes you could catch me up on the lecture so far.”, he explained, perfectly reasonable and calmly while the woman in question lived through a serious fight-or-flight response.

She swallowed at last, swiping her hands over her mouth in the hopes to save some of her appearance. But really, what was there to save after a whole day of lectures and seminars?

“That’s absolutely fine.”, Gwyn tried a small smile, praying to the pasta-gods that her teeth were clean, “We can meet up tomorrow after class. I’m free after 4.30 pm.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could just send me your notes via email. I only transferred, so I should know most of the stuff.”, he replied evenly, handing her the piece of paper that held his email address.

So, that went well.

“Oh, sure. That’s fine with me too. Super.”

Super? Who said super?

“Great. See you around then.”, and with a friendly smile directed at everyone at the table, Azriel strode away.

Gwyn’s eyes shut closed for a moment, her head falling into her neck. What was that conversation and how did she manage to fuck it up so completely?

She turned around towards the table again where Emerie already shot her an apologetic look. “Well, if he has a girlfriend anyways, you don’t have to worry about your prospects with him.”

 Gwyn just nodded in a trance. Azriel did in fact smell really good. And he looked even better up close. And he already knew most of the lecture contents for gods sake!

Gwyn was left to ponder her life’s choices, starting with her carb obsession and ending with selecting biology as a major. But she wasn’t the only person shook to her core at the table.

Cassian stared after Azriel, his eyes boring into the back of his head before he blurted out, “Is his bicep bigger than mine?”

…

After some well needed time of consideration, Gwyn decided that she in fact does not have a crush on Azriel Hawthorne.

The compiled list of arguments against his person was long and ever-growing: it started with him having a girlfriend and ended with his stupid dragon-lord name.

The whole thing was a lie, of course. A gentle sort of gaslighting… only against her own conscious. Every day after their encounter in the lecture and cafeteria afterwards Gwyn scolded herself fiercely whenever she daydreamed about him. Imagining him being mean to his girlfriend, kicking a puppy, ripping out pages of a book…it didn’t make him any less attractive objectively, but it helped.

And as she sat her stressed ass down in her lecture seat exactly a week later, she was all but convinced that Azriel Hawthorne was a conniving, dastardly, and arrogant prick who was probably a fuckboy and lived off his daddy’a trust fund. And that he was stupid.

Honestly, it gave her enough peace of mind that she didn’t turn into a puddle beneath the table when he walked in (punctual) while nearly every other girl in this class did.

“Oh, he looks handsome today, doesn’t he Gwynnie?”, Emerie whispered her venom next to her, wiggling her eyebrows in her direction.

“He looks fine.”, Gwyn replied evenly, smiling at Emerie who narrowed her eyes as the unexpected answer, “Actually, his t-shirt looks about two sizes too small. He probably doesn’t know how to do his own washing.”

Or it was the fact that his muscles greatly outnumbered those of all other guys in this class combined.

Her friend didn’t let her off the hook, though. “Did he do something? Last week around this time I had to slip tissue paper on your laptop to keep it from being drooled on.”

But Gwyn just scoffed, mentally scolding herself for her weak moment. She blamed the caffein anyways. “Nope. Never heard from him after I sent over my notes.”

And maybe that was the part that stung, too. Her lecture notes were first class, only second to the ones her professor had himself. Why Mr. I’m-so-bulky-Hawthorne hadn’t been in a hurry to thank her for that, she couldn’t fathom. But if he has the nerve to do better in the exam through using her notes, she’d throw hands.

Emerie made an unimpressed face. “What, not even a thank you?”

“Silence.”

Gwyn made herself busy pulling out her laptop and selecting the right script. Maybe the message didn’t get through – no, it did. He was just an asshole.

And only five minutes until the lecture began, said asshole lifted himself out of his seat and made his way towards Gwyn.

“He’s coming, he’s coming.”, Emerie murmured, repeatedly tapping Gwyn’s thighs as if she hadn’t noticed a six foot something god coming her way.

But it didn’t matter, because he didn’t like him.

“Hey Gwyn.”, Azriel greeted her quietly with a little nod towards Em. He crouched down in front of her table, stabilizing himself with his tattooed arm. Which Gwyn was not looking at.

“Hi.”, she replied, pretending to be busy writing down a note in her diary. Because she absolutely refused to give into his pull.

Azriel observed her for a moment, his eyes tracing her face and hair, before speaking again. “I wanted to come over to thank you personally for your notes.”

Oh.

Gwyn looked up, her pencil suspended above paper, and couldn’t help the small smile that slipped past her lips. “You’re welcome. If you have any questions about them, feel free to ask.”

Adonis smiled back at her, nodding more to himself that to her. “Actually, there was one diagram you drew in your microbiology section that made me pause.”

Gwyn leaned forward, now more than ready to leave all her negative feelings and even her crush for him aside in favor of talking about her favorite topic.

But then he had the nerve to say, “I’m sure it was just a slight oversight on your part, but the order wasn’t right. You might want to correct that before you memorize it wrongly.”

And suddenly, with the intensity of a raging tsunami, all of the previously fake reasons why she didn’t like him became very real.

“I highly doubt that.”, she replied through a clenched jaw, “I only copy the diagrams from the board. They can’t be wrong.”

Azriel smiled at her still, “As I’ve said, it was probably just a blunder. The rest of your notes are okay.”

Okay?

Emerie was the only thing anchoring her to reality as she burst out into a coughing fit next to Gwyn, whose undiluted rage filling every inch of her veins.

“Well, I’m glad I could help.”, all of her strength went into those word. And that she didn’t spew fire with them. Right at his condescending face.

“I owe you a coffee, or whatever you like to drink. Maybe we can do that sometime soon?”, he asked, straightening himself up to his full height again. Gwyn added another con to her list: can’t read the room.

“Sure, sometime.”, she smiled a tight-lipped smile at him as he turned, saved again by the arrival of her professor. Or rather, the professor has unwittingly saved Hawthorne’s ass. An ass which her eyes shot daggers at as she watched him go down the aisle to his seat once more.

Beside her, Emerie tried to school her face into neutrality, forcing the corners of her mouth into balance when Gwyn knew they desperately wanted to jump up.

“Well, at least he’s attentive.” She said evenly, looking her best friend up and down and trying to assess the damage done.

“Attentive.”, Gwyn repeated, practically spewing fire, “arrogant, big-headed, patronizing.”

Emerie nodded, still fighting a losing battle with the corners of her mouth.

Gwyn went on while her professor called up the first slide of his presentation. “Aloof, domineering, tactless.”

“Gwyn Berdara: the pocket-sized Oxford English Dictionary.”, Emerie murmured, pulling up her own notes on her iPad. But Gwyn might as well had earplugs stuffed into her skull. She didn’t hear a word as Dr. Huberman started his lecture, nor did her eyes focus on any of the bullet points.

“Vaid, rude, Azriel.”