#bring a coat and an umbrella and snow boots maybe

[healingheartdogs]

Just over freezing (real feel under freezing) and raining right now here, and both Hermes and Eevee would STILL rather be outside because they like being outside that much. The door is propped open for them to come inside and they are choosing to sit outside instead. There is cover available and they are purposefully hanging out in the rain instead. I've been hovering at the door watching them and occasionally inviting them inside, but they're more than pretty sure that they're good out there and don't want to come in.

[enviedear]

she brings the rain → james potter

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which james becomes enemies with benefits with woman he thinks is entirely too much like a rainstorm.

PAIRING ⌙ james x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.4k

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part two here

a few suggestive themes but nothing graphic at all !

totally, absolutely, a fic because of this song. it reminded me a some elusive remarkable woman and those type of women are totally james potter's type. enjoy <;3

this will have a part two btw... soon ! depending on how much you guys like part one

you never enjoyed the winter. it was debilitating for you. you felt a sense of dread when the temperature would drop. the first snow always left you discontent.

you were sure, so sure you felt it in your bones, that the cold and brisk winter would never become loved by you.

but it's fresh april now. spring has sprung, and you find yourself in your element. the heavy coats and fur lined boots of winter are long gone, and in their place, umbrellas and rain jackets. the dull colors of the cold have evolved into the brights of the warmth.

you were at home in spring.

despite your hatred for the chills of winter, one thing, or person, stood above that hatred.

one james potter.

james— your personal everlasting winter.

since school, he's been a great annoyance to you. his constant obsession with your friend lily was too hard for you to overcome. the way he yelped and hollered in the halls was enough to cause you to see red. but above all, his blatant disdain for you was the worst.

he was a cold sort of person. he was too loud, like a wild blizzard. his arrogance cut through you like a chilly breeze.

you never found james enjoyable, but you put up with him. you attempted to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his every move. the browned eyed boy however, had a loathing for you the minute he clocked your unease of him.

he brought it up quite a lot— and you, for a long time, ignored it. smiled and laughed it off. anything to quell him.

it had all come to a head in seventh year, at a party in the gryffindor common. you were innocently sat with mary and lily, your closest friends, when a drunken james decided it was high time you knew just how annoying he found you.

"you're strange." he had started, eyes focused in on you.

at first you tried to play it off, just another idiotic thing from potter.

he kept going, "i've never seen you smile— like really smile at me. what's your deal."

mary had tried to stop him from continuing, voice somewhat nervous, "james you're drunk."

he had scoffed, throwing his arms up, "and your friend is weird. she's always glaring at me like i did something to her. seriously, what is your deal, l/n."

you had hit him. square in the nose. perhaps a lapse in judgement on your part. but in the moment, boy, did it feel good.

"maybe i wouldn't glare so much if you weren't such a prick, potter. i've tried being nice to you, but merlin, you're impossible. grow up." your voice boomed through the now silent party.

he had gotten up quickly for your liking, face inches from yours, "you're just hateful. live a little."

to that, you left. you were beyond angry. you wanted to hit him again.

lily had come to soothe you, "y/n, i'm so sorry. i don't know why he did that." she had said.

you rolled your eyes, "i'm never speaking to him again. i don't care if he's head over heels for you. he's the worst."

and from then on, james potter and you found nothing but hatred for each other. it was even worse when he went on to date lily, a brief fling, but still a horrible inconvenience.

five years have past since that night in the common, and you still found yourself in james potter's close circle. an enigma.

"how was work?" remus asks, beside you, toying with some grass.

you're over at lily's, having somewhat of a garden party. your school friends scattered around the redheads' lawn.

"fine— although having alice as a nurse is nice, she forgets to do paperwork. i had to stay late and finish three patient reports." you sigh, tugging your cardigan closer.

"pregnancy brain." he decides.

you hum in response. honestly your mind was elsewhere. it had been all day. all week.

"you like healing though? lily tells me you're one of the best." he adds.

you attempt a faux smile, "love it."

remus seems to buy your admission. at least you hope he does.

it wasn't that you hated your job. you loved what you did. the cause for your solemn mood was none other than james potter.

or rather, what you had done with james potter.

it was exactly a week ago, last friday. it was a nice and relaxing rainy day. you were fresh off of work and happy to sit alone in your home, cup of tea in hand.

a knock had sounded from your front door, urgent.

when you had opened it, you were met with a bloody and bruised james potter.

deatheaters, he had explained.

it wasn't unlike james to brawl with deatheaters, seeing as he was auror. what was unlikely was for him to be at your door. you were a little unsure how he remembered your address.

you fixed him up, silently. you asked no questions, you didn't feel a need to.

but james felt a need to speak. a need to say just the right things.

you woke up the next morning beside him, his arms wrapped around you, a reminder of your senseless decision.

you had willingly slept with james potter.

the fact was heavy on your mind. and as you steal looks at him, talking animatedly to sirius, you wonder how you're going to live it down.

you'd never slept with someone you thought vile, sure, a few sleezeballs, but no one could top james. the worst part however, was the way the night had a way of taking over your thoughts. your brain was entirely full of james potter. the way his hands trailed your body. the way his eyes watched you, intently. the lewd words that spilled from his lips.

he was, in a way, perfect. at least in bed.

outside of that, you couldn't find a reason to continue thinking of him.

you sneak another glace at him while remus finishes up a story about one of his fourth years. james' cheeks are a soft flush, most likely due to the absurd amount of shots he's done. his conversation with sirius seems scandalous, causing you to look away. you were much too afraid of him relaying your escapades.

"i doubt i'll attempt to show them anymore pigmy's. too overzealous i suppose." remus finishes, sipping the last of his cocktail.

you force a laugh, "pigmy's and fourth years never go over well." you nod to his empty drink, "want me to grab you another?"

he agrees, and you take the glass from him, eager to sneak away from conversation for a little. you have become acutely aware of how difficult it is to hold conversation while your mind is elsewhere.

you slip into lily's kitchen, sighing in content when you find it empty. instead of making remus' drink— you scour your friends' pantry. muggle snacks galore. you alway found comfort in them, they had an effect no wizard snack could offer.

lily has suggested it's the gmo— not that you knew what she was talking about.

you crack the door and slip inside the pantry, leaning against the wall as you tear open a bag of cookies.

you get halfway through the bag when you hear shuffling from the walkway. you clutch the bag, like a kid caught in the cookie jar.

you truly didn't have an ounce of energy left to have another meaningless conversation.

whoever it is, opens the fridge, created a loud squeaking sound.

"fuck." a male's voice mutters.

james.

closing your eyes, you silently berate yourself. of course it's james.

you assume he finds what he wants, as he goes quiet for a little. you assume, that is, until the pantry door pulls open. you look to him, eyes wide.

he studies you for a second, before an annoyed look overcomes him, "you hide in pantries now?"

you shush him and look around the kitchen, searching for anyone else. when you come to the conclusion that it indeed is just him, you pull him in with you.

he shuts the door and rolls his eyes at you.

"i'm not hiding. i was taking a break." you state, simple.

he leans against the wall adjacent from you, "i think you're a special sort of mad."

"i think you're a special sort of idiotic."

he pretends to be hurt, "low blow, l/n."

you go silent, unable to continue your talk with him. instead you think back to last friday— horrible timing on your part.

james seems to sense your mind's thoughts, you see it in his smirk.

"someone's having flashbacks." his voice is mocking.

you glare up at him, "it's more of a night terror. you haven't told anyone have you?"

james shrugs, causing you to huff, "please tell me you didn't."

"not a soul. you?" he asks.

you bite your lip before answering, "no one."

"from what i remember, you didn't find it horrible." he says.

"it wasn't. what was horrible was that it was you." you groan. "merlin's sake james, you used to date my best friend."

he chuckles, "five years ago— i hardly think lily knowing we fucked would put a damper on your friendship."

you sit the bag of cookies on the shelf beside you. "whatever. it won't happen again. we never have to talk about it again. we can go back to politely ignoring each other."

james raises a brow, walking closer to you, "and where's the fun in that, l/n?"

you scoff, trying not to think of the now close proximity, "you can't be serious."

his mere presence is like a sudden draft, freezing you in one spot.

he continues, drawing closer, brown eyes peering down at you, "you liked it, i liked it. c'mon doll— live a little."

he's now entirely too close, his lips are brushing yours, hands finding their way to your hips. unabashedly longing— longing for you.

"grow up." you mutter, before crashing your lips into his. it's certainly not a romantic kiss. it's a messy, angry thing. but it feels good, it feels right.

james deepens the kiss, drawing you even closer to him. he tastes of firewhiskey and mint. he, and only he, cloud your mind. suddenly, your hatred seems so small, nonexistent. nothing matters when james potter is kissing you.

you're confused, however, when he pulls away.

"what—"

he interrupts you, "play nice and i'll finish the job. until then, i'll be outside, saying farewell to our lovely friends."

you look at him incredulously, "play nice?"

"i'll swing by yours later— i'm sure that'll give you enough time to loose your constant attitude." he open the door. he's halfway out when he turns back to you, "see you soon, rainstorm."

with that— he leaves you alone. in lily evans' pantry. yearning for another kiss.

james potter was something vile.

you had attempted to fix yourself in a quick manner. which caused you to almost forget remus' drink. you had handed it to him in a hurry, scanning the garden for james.

he was gone. no sight of him.

you felt a sense of dread. you were entirely unsure if he meant what he said, if he was really going to come to your house later.

you try to swallow your nerves as lily, mary, and sirius join you.

"you made yourself scarce for a while there, y/n." mary chuckles, hand in lily's.

"needed to clear my head. long day at work." you reply.

lily nods, "the daycare is full of mumblemumps— are you treating a lot of that?"

"constantly." you agree.

sirius shrugs, "my gran always said the best way to cure the mumbles are a good salt in the wound potion."

remus looks at him confused, "bloody hell is that?"

mary chimes in, "a horribly old potion— you really shouldn't brew it. causes you to vomit until you can't anymore."

"exactly. gets the mumbles right out." sirius grins.

you furrow your brows, "vomiting profusely isn't a medically sound medication for the mumbles, sirius. if anything it could cause—"

"— liver or kidney failure. blah. lot of bullshit. i haven't kicked the bucket, and i've had the mumbles thrice."

you refuse to continue with him. sirius is against modern medicine— save for muggle allergy relief, which you knew stood zero chance compared to wizard allergy treatment.

"anyway, sirius wanted to finish the night over at the bar by fifth street, care to join?" lily asks remus and you.

the sandy haired man shrugs, "it's a friday, might as well."

the group looks to you, "oh i can't— i have to run by the office tomorrow morning."

it wasn't a complete lie, you did need to run by the office. you'd forgotten your wallet.

but really you just wanted to get home. see if james really showed up.

"oh, you poor thing." mary pouts.

remus pats your shoulder, "you really have your plate full, y/n. try and use some of that vacation time."

you smile, "i'll see. you all have fun though."

with that, you follow the group out to the car port— navigating just who needs to move their car first. it was sirius' motorbike that needed to be moved— but since you were in a quiet hurry— you found a way to maneuver around it.

the drive to your house isn't long, only about a twenty minute drive from lily's, but you were sure it's never felt longer.

if you were honest with yourself, you weren't sure why you felt the need to encourage james advances. he wasn't your full time love affair. if anything he was your one time screw up. the mere thought of giving into him again put a chill through you.

you think your anxiety over the situation is a bit over the top, but your emotions have a mind of their own. no matter how hard you wanted to think cooly of your situation, you couldn't.

by the time you parked your car in your small garage you had switched through a vast array of emotions.

but now, sitting in your garage, car idle, you think back to your own effect on potter. from your wild arguments in school to your now dulled disagreements— james always found a way to keep you around him.

leaning back into your seat, you breathe out a soft chuckle.

you found him something unabashedly bewildering. because, and you're sure of it now, that james' blatant disdain for you had become something entirely new.

there was a chance not even he had caught on yet— caught on to the fact that his hatred has since morphed into a glaring fixation. you tempted james potter, whether he knew it or not.

so when you see his dim headlights in your rearview mirror, you feel a sense of control.

he really had no idea what he had got himself into.

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[costellos]

author’s note: another self-indulgent piece! you can interpret this as ur dating ur boo already or nah. the only ones that imply not being in a relationship are Bucciarati and Fugo’s scenarios. in any case, take it as you will and enjoooyy.

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang & their first kiss with you!

bruno bucciarati.

Bucciarati first kissed you after being caught in the rain.

the sound of his water faucet comes gently humming from his bathroom. it offers a nice contrast to the heavy raindrops pattering against his window. Bucciarati sighs, watching as a strike of lightning ignites his house, then slips a bag of earl gray tea into a kettle of boiling water.

this is his fault. he had asked you to meet him at Libeccio to go over some last minute details about an upcoming mission. but just as you were both about to part ways, an onslaught of rain came pouring from above. and of course, neither of you had an umbrella. ↳ “my house isn’t far from here. you can stay with me until this passes.”

Bucciarati curses to himself. he’s trying his best to make the most of the situation. the sense of guilt for forcing you out is overwhelming, though. and now that the temperature is dropping in Naples, he fears that he set you up to get a cold. 

the water from his bathroom cuts off. alright. you’re almost done. hopefully taking a hot shower will keep you from getting sick. a sigh escapes his lips once more as he pours the earl gray into a mug for you.

fantastic work, Bruno, he thinks to himself. it’s nice to have you here, it really is. but this was hardly out of choice. there had been so many scenarios that Bucciarati had concocted to bring you back to his home, to make you feel as safe as you do for him, yet. here you are. stuck here because he didn’t check the forecast.

really, that’s what it’s all about: he’s seen the way that you act around the team and civilians. how you selflessly put their needs above your own. even when he requested that you talk with him last minute, you didn’t hesitate to drop everything and run to Libeccio. you shouldn’t have to do that for anybody. certainly not him.

he desperately wants to take care of you, just as you do for everyone else. he wants to be the one that you come to for all your problems. he just wishes that mobster life wasn’t so complicated, that he could admit his feelings truly and wholly.

the mug in his grasp slips away. Bucciarati blinks. but when he hears your giggle, he realizes he must have gotten so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice you were out of the bathroom.

you sip your tea, sending him a playful grin. Bucciarati returns it with one of his own. you look so small here, with your towel over your head and your cheeks still rosy from your hot shower. god. he can’t help but smile wider.

oh. hm. his strainer must not have contained all the leaves, because there’s a stray earl gray remnant on the corner of your lip. wordlessly, he reaches up to swipe it off with his thumb. your skin feels so smooth under his touch, so warm and soft. he just wants to take care of you. he just wants to make you feel loved. he just wants to— 

Bucciarati’s kiss is quick yet so incredibly gentle. remnants of his cologne still stick to his skin — sandalwood and sea salt — but all you can focus on is how loving he feels against you. he tastes faintly of red wine. ↳ “forgive me. I couldn’t help myself.”

leone abbacchio.

Abbacchio first kissed you while doing your makeup.

it’s quiet underneath the yacht that Bucciarati rented. Narancia is blasting music on the deck above you and Mista and Fugo are talking, but everything is so muffled. it’s just you, Abbacchio, and the rouge lip stain that he’s sliding across your lips.

it’s a simple job: infiltrate a fundraiser hosted by the capo of a rival gang. because you’re one the most stunning member of the group, you were unanimously voted to distract the capo’s guards. this would give Mista access to his room and end this once and for all. and so, here you are now: getting your makeup done to, as Bucciarati quoted, “put your best face forward.”

so beautiful, Abbacchio thinks to himself. to be honest, he doesn’t understand why you asked him to help with your makeup. you really don’t need it. but he’d take any opportunity to get closer to you (though he’d never admit it).

the lip stain feels cold against your skin. Abbacchio does his best to make you comfortable, with his holding your chin in his grasp. his eyebrows are knitted, eyes strained as he tries to make you look your best. ↳ “alright. now rub your lips together.”

you do as your told, sliding the solution between your lips. seeing you move your mouth in such a way, rolling the liquid between your skin, your face so perfect... well. it’s an understatement to say that he’s overwhelmed.

“Leone?” your voice is so soft. he’s still holding onto your chin. you’re so close that he can feel your breath against his skin. all it would take— ↳ “so beautiful...”

his kiss is breathy and needy. you never expected him to be so desperate. how long has he been like this?

Abbacchio’s lips smack against yours, the hand on your chin moving to the back of your head, pulling you even closer to him. you can feel the lip stain that he just applied transferring to his own mouth. it tastes like cherries.

he keeps pushing himself further and further into you. he’s so enamored. so deprived. it takes you by surprise, but you follow his lead. ↳ “agghh! I’m sorry! I’ll come back later!!”

Narancia slams the door to the yacht’s room, effectively ending whatever you had just a moment ago. Abbacchio flinches from the sound, and once he realizes that Narancia saw everything, he rolls his eyes and sighs. ↳ “we’ll continue this later.”

giorno giovanna.

Giorno first kissed you during a mission in in the Alps.

you’re patrolling the perimeter of a ski resort. it’s cold up here, colder than you’re used to. nonetheless, this is potential new territory for Passione, so Bucciarati sent you and Giorno to observe the scene. you just didn’t expect your fingers to freeze so quickly. ↳ “I told you to bring a thicker coat.”

your partner isn’t helping. you turn to the blond next you, a sly grin on his lips. you merely stick your tongue out in response (which, quite frankly, freezes rapidly too).

in any case, you push further. despite your chilly surroundings, you have to admit that it’s nice up here. the setting sun sets the sky on fire, casting an orange glow on the snow at your feet. the air smells vaguely of pine and Giorno’s cologne, but you can’t quite pinpoint the notes on the latter.

Giorno is trying to be subtle when he looks at you. when he knows you’re not paying attention, his green irises turn to you. you look so cute out here, with your cheeks so rosy and your eyelashes covered with tiny snowflakes. you’re wearing the knit hat with the little pom pom that he bought for you. that gesture makes his heart as warm as the jacket you should’ve brought with. he’s so enamored by you.

but he can’t help but notice how much you’re shivering. he wishes he had been more adamant about bringing a thicker jacket. you insisted you would be okay, but even still. he feels that this is partly his fault. ↳ “here. hold on.”

Giorno stops in his tracks, forcing you to stop as well. the air falls dead silent, likely due to the snow around you. he unwraps the tan cashmere scarf from his neck, opting to swing it around your own. it's here that you can finally identify what his cologne smells like: vanilla and tobacco, the latter a remnant from an earlier meeting. it’s so inviting, just as he is to you.

but instead of folding it around your neck, Giorno grasps the ends of the scarf, pulling you close to him. that stupid sly smirk is on his face, and as he presses his lips onto yours, you can feel it against your own.

for as confident as he seemed just earlier, he almost recoils in the kiss. he’s shy and inexperienced, and it seems he acknowledges this, for the kiss itself is rather chaste. but he places his forehead on yours, his smirk replaced with that gentle smile you’ve come so well to know. ↳ “is that better?”

guido mista.

Mista first kissed as you were waiting for the subway.

your eyelids feel heavy. it’s far past your usual bedtime. not that you mind; tonight was an important mission briefing, so of course it would go far longer than any of you expected. 

nonetheless, it’s dark out. few people are at the Salvator Rosa subway station. maybe it’s better that way — fewer creeps to deal with. though Mista had offered to bring you back home, you live on the other side of Naples from him. it’s a sweet gesture. you just feel bad accepting it when it’s already so late.

click. click. click. the heels on Mista’s boots send echoes down the tunnels. he looks down the train tracks, seeing no sign of any approaching vehicles. the train should be coming every ten minutes at this hour. it’s not that he wants to get rid of you, he just wants to make sure that you get home as soon as possible. he doesn’t like the thought of you being out this late by yourself.

at no sign of a train, Mista clicks his tongue and leans back. he then looks at you, catching you mid-yawn. you’re tired, that much is obvious, with your bloodshot eyes and sullied expression. yet even then, he can’t help but find you so charming. you work so hard for everyone, trying your best to do the most that you can. you continuously put everyone first. he wishes he could do the same for you. it’s the least he could do. ↳ “you’re so incredible, I could kiss you. ...wait, did I just say that out loud?”

oh my god oh my god oh my god DID HE REALLY JUST BLURT THAT? 

Mista’s internally panicking now. he’s trying to take back what he said (but also not, because it’s true), yet there’s no smooth way to do it. he’s tried for so long to put up this cool guy persona and now he’s ruined it!!! (even though he never had it in the first place.)

but you just laugh in response, and that alone is enough to relax him. okay. so maybe he didn’t fuck up entirely. ↳ “err... can I kiss you?”

god, he’s such an idiot. but you oblige, saying yes, he can kiss you.

Mista wastes no time. he takes you by your hips, pressing his lips against yours. he’s wanted to do this for so long now. and now that this moment is here, all he wants to do is keep you close to him — and him only.

his kisses are eager and excited. he’s not inexperienced, especially with his flirtatious past. but there’s something about the way he moves his lips that makes you feel like you’re the only kiss that matters. you can feel him smiling as you return his enthusiasm. ↳ “you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

narancia ghirga.

Narancia first kissed you during a moment of silence.

Tupac is playing quietly in the background. the smell of stale potato chips fill the room. you can hear Narancia playing some video game on his N64, the soft buzz of his TV filling the silence between songs.

neither of you had any days off nowadays. but by some miracle, some god took pity on the both of you and allowed a Friday night of relaxation. although Narancia and you had discussed going out, you both decided you were too damn tired. (even though it’s far beyond midnight now.)

Narancia selects the TRY AGAIN? option (after dying for the upteenth time... jesus, this game is hard), and while he waits for the loading screen to pass, he can’t help but look at you. you’re sitting cross-legged on his bed, reading some trashy tabloid. you look so at peace here, with your eyelids low and a Twizzler hanging from your mouth. he loves seeing you like this; it’s such a nice change from how stressed you’ve been lately. he wishes you would always be like this. and he knows that’s not the life either of you agreed to once you joined Passione, but. the fact still stands.

it’s like you know that he’s watching you. you instinctively tap on his arm, a sign he’s so familiar with that means you want to play the game next.

everything here is so comfortable and familiar. he wants this moment to last forever.

the only thing that would make it better is to... well. hmm. how should he go about that? ↳ “hey, hand me a Twizzler.”

without looking, you move your hand from his arm, reaching to the plastic bag beside you. ↳ “no, stupid! I meant like this.”

it’s a smooth move, you have to admit. after he pauses his game, he climbs onto the bed with you. he bites onto the opposite end of your Twizzler, far before you can process what’s even happening.

though, let’s be real, Narancia doesn’t even know what’s happening. there are all sorts of alarms ringing in his head. what is he doing? oh my god, is this what it means to be smooth??

he supposes so, because he quickly closes the gap between you. he’s clumsy and he tastes like strawberries, but he’s so, so inviting. he tries to take it slow, with his peppering your lips with relaxed, gentle kisses. you can feel his right hand creep onto your cheek, the pads of his fingers tickling your temple.

↳ “was... was that okay?”

pannacotta fugo.

Fugo’s first kissed you while tending to your wounds.

crickets chirp from outside his window. cicadas hiss from outside. you hiss along with them as Fugo places an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on a cut. ↳ “I know, I’m sorry. I’m almost done.”

following a stand battle where, quite honestly, both of you narrowly escaped death, Fugo took it as his responsibility to tend to you. not that he particularly wanted to (which is what he kept telling himself), he simply felt it was his responsibility after you took care of him just a month earlier.

neither of you should be in this situation. had you not defended some civilians during the fight, both of you would have come out of this battle a lot cleaner. especially you. dear lord, your skin is littered with cuts and bruises. nothing too concerning, and thankfully no gashes or broken bones, but that was calling it way too close.

his violet eyes flicker to you for a second. your lips are pursed and your eyebrows are furrowed  — he can tell you’re in pain. although he tries to make this process as easy as he can, there’s only so much he can do.

Fugo turns back to your arm. you have a cut along the inside of your elbow, which he’s currently wrapping in gauze. he makes a note of it. that’s going to hurt whenever you bend your elbow, which will effect how you fight during your next stand battle. he sighs. you’re so stupid.

even still... he envies you. you don’t hesitate, ever, unlike him. you know exactly what you want to do and how you’re going to get it. and despite everything, you still try to protect the people around you, even if it means putting yourself in harm. that part is foolish, he thinks, but admirable nonetheless. he wishes that he could follow in your lead, carving his own path.

however, he couldn’t ignore how you defined him a month ago: a friend, someone worth caring for. Fugo has been described as many things yet... that’s the only one that he felt mattered. he wants everyone to see him as that. that’s how he sees you, at least.

he turns back to your face. your eyebrow is singed. he takes his thumb, running it over your charred hairs, checking for any more cuts. thankfully, there’s nothing.

but it’s here that he realizes how close he is to you. your faces are a mere three millimetres apart, your wide eyes looking back at him. with that stupid grin on your face (though he admits, most of the time it’s cute), you quickly reach up and kiss his nose.

to say Fugo is stunned would be an understatement. is... is this even appropriate? can he do this...? this wasn’t at all how he expected the night to go, yet...

Fugo exhales. you can hear how his breath wavers. but once he composes himself, he takes your face in his hands and presses his lips onto yours.

everything about Fugo is calculated. but here, it feels as though he’s absorbing everything for the first time, fumbling through the steps. because, honestly, it’s true. you’re his first kiss, and he couldn’t be happier to share it with you. he’s careful to not to push too hard into you or to touch you where your skin is cut, but his lips are smooth and welcoming. taking you in as if this was his intention all along. ↳ “come closer. I... I don’t want to stop.”

[cosmiclatte28]

Autumn in My Heart (Taeyong x you, you x Jaehyun)

hello, another fic I made that flopped, but I want to bring this back with another pairing. I love this, still one of the angst I made that I feel okay to post.

One shot - angst/fluff

a/n : Taeyong sounds like a bad boyfriend, but trust me he isn’t. Jaehyun is the rebound you found in the middle of a storm.

(Posted on wattpad before, and one in tumblr as an exo pairing but only got 1 notes ☹)

Enjoy

The picturesque scene of red and orange trees cannot fool the dull and sombre race of falling leaves pulled by the gravity. Be honest, autumn is depressing. See the falling leaves, dying every time a gush of cold wind tingles. (y/n) hates seeing the piles of dead leaves on the ground, she feels like the trees are selfish that they let the leaves die in order to survive.

The clock strikes six when you have put on your tailor fitted Pea coat from Schott’s. Tonight, your favorite fragrance from Chloe accompanies you. You inhale your favorite floral scent and get ready as your smart watch rings with a caller ID you love dearly. Your lover has rung you up saying he is downstairs waiting for you to take your time. You make your last tuck on your Pea coat and pocket your phone as you slipped your feet to the leather boots. You make sure to kiss your corgi good bye before keeping the key in your pocket and slightly run to meet the waiting prince; your waiting prince!

The elevator ride almost killed you; you frown whenever the door opens and what greet you are the foreign faces of your neighbor from other floors; after pressing the close button five more times, you finally reach your destination. With your round eyes you scan the whole room and find your prince in no time. His fashion and his tall body make him easy to spot.

“Taeyong! I’m here, let’s go!” you cling into the taller man’s arm and giddily drag him out of the warm lobby. The early cold wind harshly welcomes both of you outside; Taeyong clears his throat and pulls you closer. He takes in your small hand, holds it firm in his big hand, and pops it nicely into his toasty pocket of his Burberry trench coat. “It’s starting to get cold,” Taeyong smiles.

You blush, even when Taeyong had done this for three consecutive autumns, your heart will always beat like it was your first time. You did nothing though and just follow his long legs that bring them to a place you know a bit too much.

“Usual place Yong?”

The tall blonde man nods and after walking through the busy streets, you found yourself in a restaurant district. Your stomach growl when the delicious smell of your favorite food can be smelled from a meter. You both sit down on your usual chairs, place the same ordinary menu; a Hawaiian pizza slice for you and a Pepperoni for Taeyong. Though Taeyong never agrees that pineapple goes with pizza, he never speaks his opinion out loud to you, he just can’t. Try and say that to a person who really enjoys it and do you dare see their heart breaks? No Taeyong doesn’t want to break her heart; it’s the last thing he wanted to do to (Y/n).

Dinner is amazing. Over two slices of giant pizza and soda, you exchange stories, laugh over new jokes, and secretly treasure this sweet moment. You both end their pizza date with a split bill and with the warmth of a full stomach. The couple make their way out of the bright, fragrance road and move to another crowded and romantic district.

You told Taeyong about a new milkshake shop opening in here in Gangnam, and Taeyong will do everything that brings a smile to your face. With you standing close by his side, Taeyong naturally slides his arm to hug your slim waist from the side as he reads the menu in the TV from the queuing line.

The café is full of sweet couples, the atmosphere here is so warm and comfortable, Taeyong knows this will 99% become their favorite hangout place.

“We’re so sorry, but we sold the second last cup already… We only have one left for the special house favorite’s chocolate,” the man with a name tag reading Doyoung, smiles apologetically to the two sweet couple across him.

You run your eyes to the TV screen to look for another substitute, but Taeyong was faster.

“No problem, an extra straw will do. How much for the last cup?” Taeyong hands Doyoung his card and swipes the bill.

You squeal deep inside your heart, how come Taeyong could always do a new sweet action every time we go out?!

“You sure don’t want anything else?” you ask when Taeyong lets go off his straw after a good five sips.

Taeyong shakes his head and raises his thumb to wipe a trace of chocolate from your lips, “No, you can have them all. It tastes good and I know you like them so much.” Taeyong kisses his thumb and cleans the chocolate from your lips.

You playfully punch Taeyong, “What’s into you?! Why are you suddenly this sweet!”

Taeyong laughs it off and rolls his eyes, “Because I am a nice boyfriend? Come on admit it—” you shut him off with a quick peck “—I’m going to have heart attack (y/n), if you are making that a habit.”

After making a loud sip to ensure you leave nothing on the bottom of the glass, you and Taeyong step out of the lovely café. Both of you freeze when you see people carrying umbrellas and celebrating something.

“The first snow!” Both of you choir and giggle upon welcoming the cold winter!

You reach for a folded umbrella you had brought in your pocket and this time take the lead to pull the taller man closer and tries your best to raise the umbrella to his height. Taeyong cannot oppress his gummy smile and allows you do your thing.

“I am not taking care of a sick Taeyong again, that’s why I read the weather forecast earlier and they predicted the first snow the fall. Turns out they were accurate this year, come Yong let’s walk under the first snow!” you sneakily place your hand into Taeyong’s coat and the taller simply holds your hand.

You both have fun for a moment under the first snow, took some pictures and updated your social media platforms.

“The snow is falling harder; shall we head home?” Taeyong worries for your health. The two of you are responsible for coming on working days, falling sick is something you two can’t afford.

You do not refuse; along your careful steps on the slippery grounds the couple doesn’t stop talking at all. You will find new topics whenever a topic seems to come to an end. Tonight is a good date night. The date night ends with Taeyong ushering you back to your Apartment room.

“Goodbye Yongie, thank you for tonight!” you shake your wet umbrella.

“No problem sweetie, I’ll be going now,”

“Wait—” you run to your room and return not long after it, you get on the tip of your toes and wrap a warm red scarf over Taeyong “—take that with you, it’s my winter present. Stay safe okay and call me when you got home.” you bury your face on his chest as he hugs you  tight.

“Thanks honey, Good night.” Taeyong steps back and waves his hand.

You wiggle your hand in panic, “Oh take the umbrella! And please just grab a taxi!” you push your umbrella to Taeyong’s hand.

Taeyong chuckles and tousles your soft hairs, “Yes maam! I can take care of myself—” Taeyong winks and you only roll your eyes. The tall blonde makes his stealing move and kiss the plump lips of yours before finally going back home.

__

Sun rises and sets, moon shines and hides, the world rotates, and time runs. Your love for each other blooms, although the relationship has ups and downs, the two of you can overcome the big waves and sail your ship to another calm ocean. A calm sea will never make a skilful sailor, and one day the biggest wave crashes to their ship, and you feel like you are forcefully drowned into the dark deep grief of heart breaks.

The road is crowded, well at least there are cars speeding in the road, and your sparkly eyes are fixed on a “sweet” scene in front of you. Yeah sweet if the people you saw were someone you did not know, or your best friend; but seriously not sweet if it’s your boyfriend you saw over the road holding hands with another pretty girl, wrapped in an expensive suit looking all lovey dovey with your man. Maybe Taeyong did not know or see you on the other side of the road, but you cannot mistake that man as someone else. Your eyes turn red; you fetch your phone and take the speed dial to call Taeyong. You wait for a moment with your eyes fixed on the two people across you.

The pedestrian traffic turns green, and you see the two of them walking to cross the road. You quickly hide yourself in an old payphone box while still listening to the waiting tone and keeping an eye on Taeyong. When Taeyong made it with the sweet smiling guy to the same street as yours, you swear your call was sent to voicemail. Taeyong also presses his screen earlier, hufth he didn’t even hesitate to reject your call. Insteaad, Taeyong looks so happy walking with this new girl. Your jealousy and suspicion completely take over you, you lean over the small phone box and stare at your screen emptily.

“Sorry, busy can’t pick up your call.” taeyong’s message appears in his notification bar.

You swallow the stuck lump in your throat; disappointed and angry, you run back to your apartment. You were planning to buy dinner and surprise Taeyong in his office for working overtime. If his vocabulary for overtime means having a walk with another woman, heol you won’t bother coming to see him.

You lock yourself in your room and cry your heart out, your stomach grumbles, but your heart aches more. You ignore all of the calls and messages in your phone. Thirty minutes later you wipe your eyes and after ensuring your heart you need to do this: you text a number.

“Yuta, you’re right… I’m coming to the dinner tomorrow. What’s his name again?”

This time you regret not listening to your friends when they warned you about your boyfriend playing fire behind your back. You are too naïve and blunt to realize Taeyong has slowly changed. He was not as sweet as he used to, he got busy, and he rarely picked your calls. At first you simply forgive him; thinking he must be busy with his works, turns out you are living blindly.

Taeyong paces in his room while sticking phone to his ear. He bites his lips when the line beeps but no one seems to answer the call.

“Pick up. Pick up (Y/n)…. Please… I’m worried sick…” Taeyong ends the waiting and jumps to the message room. He sends more messages asking if you are okay, why are you not picking up calls, and why are you not reading his messages.

Taeyong feels guilty rejecting your call earlier, but he cannot pick the call there when he thinks his coworker has a big crush and is flirting with him. Taeyong cannot bring himself to answer the call and crushes the cute girl’s dream. Yes, his co-worker is lately clinging on his side, and Taeyong cannot lie and say she’s unattractive. She is a calm and nice woman, good with works, and Taeyong finds it hard to keep his heart stable when she’s around.

Taeyong thought he saved the girl from crying in the streets, when in reality his real girlfriend is the one crying on the busy streets… by herself. Poor Taeyong doesn’t know this.

__

The next morning, you did not bat an eye nor reply any of Taeyong’s messages. You muted his number and prepare for work. As you spray your perfume, the front door beeps open and a tall man you used to love, but now hate, shows up with a bouquet of yellow flowers on his hand.

“Good morning sunshine! What’s with the cloudy face?” Taeyong extends his hand to give you the arrangement.

You look at his sickening handsome smile and walk to take your working bag. “Nothing. I’m tired of work and this life full of lies.”

Taeyong frowns, “What do you mean?”

You  just hum an “I don’t know” tone and occupy yourself with packing your lunch and laptop.

Taeyong walks to the kitchen table and picks your phone, he scrolls through the notifications and shakes his head, “WOW! You haven’t opened my text, not a single one! Why?” he sounds confused.

You’re the type to always have your phone on your nose almost every second, what’s with leaving him unread?

You snatch your phone, “I fell asleep earlier yesterday after you said I shouldn’t come and have dinner with you, since you’re taking overtime.”

Taeyong sighs, “Come on (y/n), you’re acting like this just because I denied your offer to eat dinner together?” you walk away.

“Don’t act so childish. We can always have dinner together tonight or other nights.” Taeyong snaps.

You keep your cold face on;  take your lunch and working bag, and slip into your shoes. Taeyong shadows you all over the place.

“Really? Then why did you cancel it yesterday?” You hold on to the door knob.

“I had a sudden meeting.” Taeyong lies quickly.

“Oh so now you call walking with another woman without companion, while acting lovely is your definition of meeting. To me I call that a secret date mister!” you stomp your foot, “Now go! Leave! I am tired of your lies!!” you exit the room, but Taeyong holds a grip of your hand.

“but…” Taeyong is cut off by your voice “For your information Taeyong, I saw you with my own eyes walking with a woman and rejecting my call.” you raise your tone and his face turns red. You break your hand free and rush to the parking lot.

Taeyong runs after you, but luck must’ve left him today for the lift closes before he can reach you. You are clearly mad and fed up, for you are not trying to do anything to clean up the misunderstanding.

Your day goes on differently, you are still absorbed in the sadness and pain, while Taeyong… Taeyong thinks today’s problem will end like any others. His day is smooth and the woman from yesterday even offers him coffee. Upon seeing Taeyong busy checking his phone; waiting for someone to call or chat; she asks him, “What’s bothering you?”

Taeyong thinks for a while, should he tell her what actually happened, but what if things get darker and dangerous? After some consideration, Taeyong decides to use the help chance. He told her what happened yesterday and earlier this morning. She just laughs and comes up with a solution, “I can help you clarify this… Give me her number, I’ll talk to her.”

Taeyong denies that idea at first, but after some more convincing words from her, he gave up your phone number to her. He thought maybe you would listen to her.

Sure, her idea was not completely wrong, You answers her call in a friendly manner and you did not blame her for anything. You listened to all of her kind and sincere explanation, but your heart still cannot easily forgive Taeyong for doing it.

__

You dress up nicely in a bomber jacket and put on a cap to hide your puffy eyes. You take your step to greet your date tonight, the man Yuta told him about. Jung Jaehyun, son of the CEO of Neo corporation: Korea’s first leading group in food supply, while Taeyong is the son of the second leading group.

To put it into words, Jaehyun is a man of daydream. He is everything you expected when meeting a living prince charming. He talks in his deep voice, his choice of words are amazing, his fashion taste is casual yet daydreaming, his manners are polished as perfect as one can be, but no matter how nice and perfect Jaehyun is, your heart cannot stop comparing him to Taeyong. Taeyong is not as perfect as him, Taeyong is more of the clumsy type and silly. However, one thing for sure, you like Jaehyun’s jokes better than Taeyong’s.

His choice of place for a first meeting is way beyond expectation. You would have dressed up properly if you knew Jaehyun is bringing you to a secluded private restaurant. You seal your mouth tightly about this date, yet Taeyong knows.

You come home with a bright smiling face, Jaehyun had just dropped you off from his Mercedes-Benz G65. You secretly smile to yourself and wrap your jacket tighter as you enter the lift to reach the floor. You can’t stop humming small tunes while taking steps.

With a big surprised face, you take a step back when Taeyong greets you in his stern voice.

“Why are you here?” you sound annoyed. Your mood totally jumped from hype to down.

Taeyong raises his brow, “Am I not allowed to visit my lover? Beside I came here to check if she’s here yet, since she ignored my calls and texts.” You make your way to the kitchen and fill yourself a glass of water, “Well, sorry but I have someone to see tonight,” you shrug your shoulder.

Taeyong joins you to the small kitchen, “Yeah and I just found out my girl, without my acknowledge, went to meet another man and came home—” he glances at his watch, “—late, my girl came home pretty late. It’s 10!”

You finish your glass of water, and slam the cup a bit too hard, “So what? I’m big enough to come home whenever I want and I can take care of myself.”

“Who’s that man? How are you sure he is someone good?” Taeyong elevates his tone.

You take a deep breath and speak out loud clearly, “it’s none of your business! Even I did not know who the woman you’re with yesterday was and I did not ask you anything! I did not interrogate you Lee Taeyong!” you spit those words in one breath. You toss your jacket then lock yourself in the room. Taeyong knocks on your door relentlessly and all he gets is silence.

Silence from the loudest person is the scariest thing

You wake up with heavy head, puffy blood shot eyes, and a runny nose. You force yourselfto leave the bed and calls in for a day off today. You have called Jaehyun last night and told the new man everything, something in your heart screams that Jaehyun can help and Jaehyun will not hurt you like Taeyong did. With your beloved corgi walking beside you, You open the apartment door and freeze when you see Taeyong sleeping uncomfortably on the floor.

“Babo-ya,” You scoff in your mind and leave the big baby on the floor. You make yourself a glass of tea and gul an aspirin down your dry throat. You take your time writing a short note and stick it on Taeyong’s free arm. You bend to place a soft kiss on his temple, probably your last, and secretly leave.

Taeyong wakes up from the pain his back screams for sleeping on the floor, he yawns and stretches then looks around and realizes he had fallen asleep when begging you to open the door. He sees the post it on his arm and he quickly read it. His brow scrunches as the line gets down, and finally they widen and his mouth fell. Taeyong lost his sense of touch, hearing, and sight… he feels like a thunder just hit him and he’s drowned in his emotions. He slowly sits on the sofa and re-reads the nicely written letter. He makes sure to not miss any single word or get the wrong idea. But no matter how many times he checks the letter again, the words don’t change.

“(y/n) wants us to end it here,” Taeyong speaks to himself, the blonde quickly searches the house. Hoping to find the woman he was looking for, he needs to discuss this with you. Seriously you did not need to break up over a silly matter!

“(y/n)-ie, what do you mean? We can talk about this… where are you?” Taeyong puts on his shoes and coat.

“We don’t have to discuss anything Tae. We’re not meant to be, I realized we’re not made for each other. Our parents don’t even support this relationship we had for three and a half years. It’s over Taeyong, go get that woman and I will go my way.” You explain as best as you can.

“No, We need to meet. We’re not breaking up over phone. I don’t consider our relationship over just because you decided it by yourself. We need to meet.” Taeyong grips his phone harder.

“I can’t Tae, I’m no longer near you. Bye,” you said.

Taeyong hears the faint background sound and damn that you are in the airport, where the hell are you going now without telling him.

You turn off your call and sadly stare at the wallpaper. It’s a picture of happy Taeyong and you laughing under the mistletoe from last Christmas.

“Are we ready to go?” Jaehyun’s deep voice resonates beside you. You groggily nod and copy his steps to the boarding gate. You take one last heavy breath; yes you are leaving Korea and Taeyong behind. This is what your family wants, this is for the best.

You come from the family of the leading electronic cooperation in Korea; turns out your parents had made an agreement to make you and Jaehyun an official pair. Simply said your parents arranged your marriage with Jung family for the sake of business. Your family does not have a good history with the Lee family. Both Taeyong and you had been trying your best to keep your boat sailing despite the harsh wind made by your own families, but you have had enough. Both of you used to think if you are together, you can fight your families and live happily ever after, but that’s too good to be true.

Now, your parents have made a lot of agreements with The Jung family, and that explains why you are sent to leave Korea with Jaehyun the night when you reported Taeyong’s actions. Your father used the situation to break you apart, and he partly succeeded.

Right now, you are seated on the first-class flight to Britain, with your future fiancé (That’s what your parents insisted).

__

The loving couple separated without a clear ending, Taeyong still lives his life to the fullest he can, but everything is pointless when you are not in his life. He did not date anyone, he still holds on to the belief that you are still his girlfriend, and he is still committed to you, he woman he loves.

His colleague has tried a lot of things to set Taeyong up with a new date, but none of them seems to win his heart. Taeyong only attends the blind dates she made, just to respect her kindness and attention. That woman herself has won the heart of the cute guy in the milkshake shop Taeyong and you once visited, Doyoung. She was close with Taeyong because she needs help with winning the cute man’s heart. The night when you went home with Jaehyun, Taeyong was actually waiting for you to explain everything. Taeyong wanted to tell you that you don’t have to be jealous of the woman, for she has her heart and eyes for another man. Fate did not let him explain anything that night, and the next day you were already gone from his life.

Taeyong changes into a cold and quiet man, while you have opened your heart to the new man. You realize Jaehyun shares a lot of things in common with you. Knowing the new tall man with dimple is easy and both of you get along so well. You spend a good two years in England, and have to return to Korea when the working contract for Jaehyun ended.

–

The plane touched down on the land of Korea, where the leaves are starting to fall and the winds getting colder. You sigh it’s once again autumn, you always hate autumn.

Jaehyun feels he needs to check the office and sends you home by yourself. You did not mind, instead you are happy you can have your time alone here.

You take the taxi to a park you missed. A small park with benches for couples to seat and enjoy the falling leaves with the big Han River across them. You breathe in the autumn leaves and slightly smile when the memories you made here with Taeyong slowly floods his mind. A small tug is felt in your heart, how is that handsome blonde doing? You walk and walk then sit at one of the empty benches, your hand traces the old wood and smile when your eyes caught a small scribble that still managed to be intact even when seasons has changed.

You trace the craving and secretly hide a smile when the memory comes back in your mind.

The writing of Taeyong and (y/n) in a big heart, deriving from four years ago. You remembered craving your names cheesily on a park bench when the first leaf fell. You scoff when you realize a lot of things you did with Taeyong are associated with autumn.

You close your eyes for a while and found yourself awaken in surprise when a familiar voice greets you.

“(y/n)?” the voice sounds unsure, “(y/n)?! It’s really you?” this time it sounds surprised and a bit happy.

You open your eyes and gulp when the same man you left without news is here again in front of you. The man you shared love, the man you secretly hate and love, the same man who used to be your happiness. He looks different! He definitely loses weight, his hair is now plain and boring brown, his eyes no longer offers the star and galaxy you used to spend your time gazing. His voice didn’t change though, still the same deep voice that never fails to make you tremble.

“Taeyong, well… yes this is me.” you sheepishly admit.

“It’s been a while,” Taeyong opens his mouth. He takes the empty spot beside you.

“Look Taeyong, I don’t have much time,” you dare yourself to face him and hold your tears back. You almost broke down in tears when you once again sees the man you love standing here across you.

“I know it was hard for both of us, but that was the best for us. This is the best for us.” Taeyong stays quiet despite wanting to kiss you and tell you everything he kept to himself for a good two years, but no he wants to listen to you. He reflected for two years and he wanted to make up all his bad mistakes.

“Fate doesn’t let us be together… our family hates one another… we can’t… we just can’t be one Taeyong.” You bite your lips and hold your tears back. Your heart is breaking right now when you see the broken look in Taeyong’s eyes.

When you first saw Taeyong sitting beside you, you swore you saw a glint of hope in his eyes but now you completely kill it. You hate yourself for once again hurting Taeyong, but this is for their own goods.

You can no longer hold back your tears, the wall you made breaks down right in front of Taeyong. You hide your face in your hands and your shoulder moves as you express all of your bottled-up emotions. Something glints under the last rays of the sun and Taeyong moves closer to your side. He bravely takes you into a hug and he brings his thumb to wipe the crystals falling over your smooth cheeks. Taeyong cannot speak a word, his mouth goes mute all he knows is his life is completely dark now without you. It was dark already before when you left, but now when you clearly said that… Taeyong feels like dying.

“Goodbye Taeyong,” you stand up and walk to leave the broken hearted man. You turn one last time to see your unrequited love; and you force your last sweet smile, “Thank you for the memories.” you take quick steps to leave the park and Taeyong. A strong wind blows and makes the piles of orange dried leaves fly around and when it’s over. You are completely not anywhere to be seen.

Taeyong closes his eyes and memorizes the last words from his love, you left him completely now. (y/n) left his presence, his world, and his hopes. Taeyong fishes his jacket and pulls out a velvet box, he snaps it open and a simple diamond ring is shining there. Well, he’s been carrying this around since you left, he wanted to propose to you whenever he got the chance to see you , but turns out your ring finger is occupied already with the same diamond ring he had in mind will fit your slender finger. Taeyong keeps the ring again in the box and he pockets it again in his left chest. He lets his tears run through his face as he walks along with the last falling leaf.

He leaves the love of his life with tears and thousands of memories. Taeyong smiles bitterly when he remembers how you always hate autumn. Turns out all memories with you are prominent in autumn: your least favorite season.

flashback <<<

“I hate autumn Yong, can you imagine how selfless the tree is, letting the leaf die so it can live longer.” you pointed to an almost bald tree.

Taeyong pinches your cute cheeks, “Well yes the trees are selfish Sweetie, but did you see how sincere the leaves are? I’m sure the tree did not want the leaves to die, instead I think the leaf sacrifice itself so the tree can live,” you cut him, “But why Yong? Why must the leaves die for the tree?”

Taeyong holds his lover’s hand tighter in his jacket, “Because my (y/n)-ie, that way the tree can survive the harsh cold winter and make new leaf later on spring. That way the leaf and the tree are once again together!”

You nod your head, “Woah that’s a better theory! You should definitely be the one telling our kids bed time stories later on!” You cheerfully peck a kiss on Taeyong’s lips and blushes.

“Just like love, you must sacrifice for the one you love.” Taeyong leans in for another kiss.

“I love you Yong, now and forever!” You lean your head on Taeyong’s strong and wide shoulder.

“I love you most (y/n), I’ll be like the leaf in autumn!” Taeyong whispers to his world; you

The two people in different place share the same memory tonight.

As the moon shines and the first snow falls, they secretly whisper each other “I still love you.”

end

:”) thank you for reading 

[kimbertsurprise]

where you land is where i’d like to be

i got sad and wanted to write about boys in love, so this is a very soft very self-indulgent almost 3k. also on ao3 here

Kravitz slips into the back of the auditorium, tugging his gloves off and tucking them into his pocket. He runs a hand down his locs, leaving droplets sticking to his skin. It’s snowing outside. The first snow of the season, which Kravitz probably should find beautiful. But right now it’s just cold and wet, and his nerves are tingling.

The auditorium is warm, though, and Kravitz shakes it off as he steps inside. He has always loved this place. The high, arched ceilings, the red fabric seats – every time he sees it, he’s reminded of the first concert he went to as a boy. So much has changed since then, but the majesty of a theater never will. 

Plus, the voice echoing through the hall doesn’t hurt.

Taako stands on stage, glittering as much as the snow falling outside. He likes to show off for his students, Kravitz knows – a sparkling cape here, a firework there. Today he is gleaming in knee high boots and a billowing white blouse, gold climbing up his ears.

“Wrong,” Taako says as Kravitz steps through the door and settles himself against the wall. “Bond theory has nothing to do with ghosts, are you even trying?” A beam of light shoots from Taako’s finger and into the audience, followed quickly by an “oof” and a round of laughter from the other students. “Bad answers get purple hair. Next!”

Kravitz grins. Taako rarely handles a guest lecture the same way twice, but this feels exactly like him – a bit of mischief, a bit of drama. Another student raises a hand from a few rows down. “Bonds!” he shouts, and Kravitz swallows a laugh.

“Are you kidding?” Taako throws his hands into the air, and gold bracelets sparkle down his arm. The ones Kravitz got him for their anniversary a few months ago. “Did you just answer the question ‘How do bonds interact with the material plane’ with ‘bonds’? If you don’t look like Taako you can’t get away with that, bubbelah.” He paces the stage, scanning across the audience. Until his eyes land on Kravitz leaning against the wall, and he stops.

Kravitz offers a tiny nod and a smile, and Taako’s answering grin lights up his face. 

It hasn’t gotten old yet, the realization that Kravitz can make him smile like that. There are a million versions of Taako’s smile, when he’s willing to use it: half-lifted and smirking, sharp and all teeth, soft and sleepy. It never stops feeling like a miracle when Kravitz is the one to pull them out. 

He never expected to feel like this. He enjoyed his work on the Astral Plane; he knew it was important, and the time alone never bothered him. But Kravitz never expected to feel alive again, not in any real way. Until he met Taako, glowing in pink crystal; until his hands were cracked with clay and an umbrella was trying to attack him. It’s the way Taako’s whole family makes him feel, really. They are a mess and a thorn in his side but they bump against each other so beautifully that Kravitz can’t help but feel grateful to be a part of it.

He was chosen for the promise of his power, once. It doesn’t quite feel real that now he’s chosen for just who he is. 

“How ‘bout you, kemosabe?” Taako continues, pulling Kravitz back from his thoughts and into the warm, crowded hall. Taako’s eyes haven’t left Kravitz, and his smile has an edge of mischief. “Got anything to say about bonds?”

The students are all looking at him. Whispers have started – they shuffle around the hall like blowing leaves. “Is that –” “It’s not, he looks so normal!” “But why would he be here –”

Kravitz grins at the twinkle in Taako’s eye and starts down the aisle. If Taako wants a show, he’ll put on a show. “Whaddyou know about ghosts, guvnah?” he asks, and barely keeps it together as Taako’s face lights with laughter. 

Kravitz is a few steps closer to the stage before Taako manages to control himself enough to respond. “I hear they’re very spooky.”

“That’s a common misconception, that is,” Kravitz replies, now climbing up the stairs. “Ghosts are just like you and me.”

Taako is grinning like a cat. “Is that so?”

“Well,” Kravitz says, dropping the accent and gathering his power, “maybe more like me than you.”

Taako’s burst of laughter is covered by the gasps from the audience as Kravitz’s scythe appears in his hand. The feathers of his robe are a little ruffled around his collar – they always are, when he transforms so quickly like this – but it’s worth it to see the kid in the front row literally fall out of his chair. 

The room roars, whispers turning into shouts. “Did he –” “My mom is going to DIE when she hears this –” “He’s the actual Grim Reaper –”

“Class dismissed!” Taako shouts over the din. “Ask Ren about anything that’s due this week, I have no fucking clue!”

Kravitz keeps his Reaper form as the students straggle away, some glancing over their shoulders as if to see what’s going to happen. It’s only when the last backpack disappears through the door that he sinks back to the desk where Taako is, tucking his scythe back into a pocket realm. “Tough lecture?” 

Taako stacks a few papers and taps them on the desk. “They wouldn’t know genius if it hit them in the face. Or got projected straight into their brains.”

“It must be hard for your school to be full of such amateurs.”

“You have no idea.”

Kravitz steps around the desk and reaches out, skin melting into place over his skeletal form. “Anything I can do?”

Taako hums and touches his fingertips to Kravitz’s. “Maybe I have an idea…”

Kravitz’s lips reform smiling, and are immediately pressed against Taako’s. It’s nice. It’s more than nice, really, still somewhat overwhelming with how wonderful it feels – until Taako pulls back.

“Cold face, yowza.”

“Comes with the territory, I’m afraid.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be getting all warm with love?” Taako’s face, so close to Kravitz’s, scrunches up in discomfort.

“It’s snowing,” Kravitz replies, deadpan, and then smiles as Taako’s uncomfortable expression morphs into disgust.

Taako gets cold, is the thing. He will sacrifice for the sake of fashion, but he is constantly stealing Kravitz’s sweaters and tucking himself into blankets. It’s not a rare occurrence to come home to a couch piled with knitted afghans, Taako barely a lump underneath them. Kravitz would usually open a rift and bring them both home immediately to climb in bed.

But the world is blank and quiet tonight. And, despite the entrance he made, Kravitz has a question to ask.

He brushes a finger down the bracelets and threads his fingers through Taako’s as they chime. “Would you walk with me?”

“Would I –” Taako huffs. “It’s snowing.”

“We covered that already, yes.”

“Taako doesn’t do snow without good reason,” Taako says, and tucks his hands into Kravitz’s pockets. It brings his face pressing hot into Kravitz’s neck.

“It’s a new world to see. You love those, don’t you?”

Taako’s long-suffering sigh sends goosebumps shivering down Kravitz’s neck. “Already seen enough of ‘em, my man, but sure. You’re handsome and you’re asking. Taako’ll freeze his butt off for a walk.”

Kravitz smiles and disentangles himself to help Taako into his coat – long, purple, soft. It was a gift from Lup two Candlenights ago. “It won’t be long.”

“Better not be,” Taako mumbles as they make their way back up the aisle. “Risking my life for a walk in the snow, saved the multiverse and this is what I get…”

It’s a silent cold when they step outside – the kind that makes everything pause, that pockets the world and holds it still. For a few moments, the only sound is the whisper of Taako’s boots kicking snowdrifts aside. 

Taako is the one to break the silence. “Okay, fine. It’s pretty.”

Kravitz hums in agreement without really thinking about it. “Reminds me of home.”

“Of the Astral Plane?”

Kravitz laughs. “Not really – it is cold there, I guess, but no. Of home. It’s one of the few memories I have from before, walking to get water out of the well before it froze over.”

Taako is quiet for a moment. Then he finally says, “That sounds shitty, my dude, gotta be honest.”

Kravitz huffs a laugh. “It wasn’t completely. I remember hot chocolate when I got back.”

Taako tucks himself more comfortably against Kravitz’s arm and kicks at another snow drift. “Must’ve been nice, coming back to a family.”

“Better than most things,” Kravitz replies quietly. Taako doesn’t often mention his time before the Institute. Occasionally he drops a small comment or a hint – always sad. Kravitz’s heart, old as it is, twinges to hear them. But as much as he wants to, he knows to let them go unremarked. 

And, well, it’s not the perfect segue… but if he doesn’t say something now he’ll lose his nerve. “Taako?”

Taako pauses to look at him. There’s a glow over his face, cast by one of the new streetlights brought on by Lucas’s world-stealing. It paints the panes of his cheeks in bright gold. The shadows under his eyes look more pronounced. He is so beautiful Kravitz feels his heart stop.

“What do you think of making us a family? You and me.” The way Taako’s ears flick back makes Kravitz nervous, but he’s started now and he can’t stop. “I know you have Lup already and I would never want to intrude on that, ever, and Barry and Magnus and Merle – everyone that loves you so much and knows you so well, but I –” Kravitz pulls in a deep breath, trying to get air into his long-dead lungs. “I’d like to be your family too, I think. If you’ll have me. If you’re interested.”

Taako blinks. And is quiet for long enough that Kravitz feels his heart spiral down into his stomach. It’s too much. This was too much, too soon, and Kravitz is suddenly adding, “It’s okay if you’re not, though. I love things just the way they are, I love you, and I wouldn't –”

“Krav.” 

Kravitz stops his messy, stumbling mouth. And Taako continues, tilting his head to the side, “What are you asking, exactly?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, they say. So as frosted air puffs from his mouth, Kravtiz bends down to one knee. The cold barely registers; he’s used to it, after all.

“I… Taako, I love you. I can’t imagine my existence without you, which is silly because I’ve been around a very long time and –” he takes another breath and watches it spiral out around him, pointedly looking everywhere but up. “I know nothing has been traditional between us, and I love that. I love you, did I say that already? And I was hoping that maybe you’d want to, well, somewhat untraditionally...” the velvet box is out of his pocket, popped open by numb fingers that have nothing to do with the weather. “Marry me?”

At the last words, Kravitz finally manages to lift his eyes enough to see Taako’s face. His eyes are wide, and Kravitz can’t tell if the light in them is reflection or tears. “Love?” he asks, and starts to get up. “Did I – oh, Taako, I didn’t mean to make you cry –”

“You are so dumb,” Taako interrupts, voice high, and then Kravitz’s mouth is full of his hair as Taako darts forward into a hug.

“Oh,” Kravitz says. And then, “Is that a yes?”

Taako pulls back and Kravitz feels all the places he’s missing as the cold hits his cheek. “Is that a – fuck, Bones, are you kidding? Gimme the thing –”

Taako’s hands are fumbling, and Kravitz is too lost to recognize what to do for a moment. “The – oh, the ring, I –” He opens the box again from where it is tucked in his hand and Taako lets out a shout of laughter. 

“You didn’t –” Taako says delightedly, tugging the ring out of its cushion. 

“I thought it would be appropriate,” Kravitz says, smiling a bit sheepishly. The pink stone glints in the streetlight, tourmaline cut and shining like a star. Maybe he should be embarrassed by the gesture. But Kravitz can’t feel anything but light and relief and such deep, impossible joy. He feels like he could fly. He watches Taako slip the ring on his finger and his body feels incandescent.

Until Taako laughs, “Uh, babe? Was gonna give you a shot at these lips but that’s tough when you’re ballin out.”

And Kravitz realizes he’s lost his physical form, now floating in front of Taako in an orb of light. 

Immediately, he begins the process of stitching his body back together, building hands and eyes and hair. His heart, when he comes to, is pounding in a way it hasn’t since he was alive. “Sorry,” he says breathlessly, and then can’t get anything else out before Taako is kissing him.

“You are such a dork,” Taako mumbles after a minute, their faces still pressed together.

“Yes,” Kravitz agrees, catching Taako’s lips again.

“Can’t believe you got me a pink crystal ring, that is so tacky.”

“It is.” Kravitz presses a kiss to Taako’s nose, his eyes, his cheeks.

“Lup is going to lose her mind.”

“She is, I know.”

“You turned into a light ball! What the fuck!”

“That was… embarrassing, I admit.”

“Krav?” Taako is flushed, his eyes bright. Hair is falling out of his cap and brushing his cheeks, and the streetlight makes it shine a bright, burnished gold. “You’re kind of perfect.”

Kravitz lifts their hands together, bundles Taako’s up into his, and presses a kiss to his gloves. Everything is warm. Everything feels like sunlight. “You too, love.”

“Natch, Taako’s the best,” Taako replies, but his eyes are gleaming and he threads his hand through Kravitz’s. 

Snow flutters down around them. Kravitz can’t help it – he runs his thumb, again and again, over the stone under Taako’s glove. 

Their wedding will be a sensation, a show – or it will be nothing, an easy dinner, just for them. Taako will surprise him, he always does. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is quieter – the breakfasts and the late nights and the debates over scrolls to watch. All the spaces in between, the heartbeats he can now count. The soft warmth of feeling that this family is his future.

With Taako’s hand in his and snow falling light and buttery around them, Kravitz takes a breath and lets himself finally settle into the feeling of home.

[c4pricornc4ts]

Where are Your Parents? - Sbi Au Chapter Six

Also on my ao3 

Chapter One here

——-

Every time Tommy goes out into town, and every time Techno leaves for a trip he can’t help but be taken right back to the moment he realized how cold it was on those front steps.

He was tired of being abandoned. He knows they’ll fight tooth and nail to come home, but even 7 years later he still has nightmares of his mom leaving him.

Wilbur could smell the rain before the clouds even came over the sky. He recognized the feeling of warm moldy air filling his lungs before a bad storm. The same way the cold settles on his skin before the sun starts to set.

Now he understood what Techno meant all those nights where he’d return early telling Wilbur it was going to storm.

When they’d all three go on walks together, he and Techno would always sense when the daylight was scarce. They’d nod to each other and tell Tommy they needed to get home. To which Tommy would respond by being shocked and complaining he can’t tell when the sun was going down.

Wilbur was the most comfortable in the woods. He spent the beginning of his life trapped in an apartment with a mom balancing two jobs and a divorce. He always wanted to crack the door so he could just fall out.

When she left him in front of the orphanage in the middle of the coldest January of his life, he never felt so free yet so suffocated.

Even though he was eight, he knew his mother always resented him. He could hear her complaining to her friends on the phone when it was past his bedtime, he saw the way she glared at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. She blamed him for his father leaving.

He didn’t know she was planning to leave him.

Every time Tommy goes out into town, and every time Techno leaves for a trip he can’t help but be taken right back to the moment he realized how cold it was on those front steps.

He was tired of being abandoned. He knows they’ll fight tooth and nail to come home, but even 7 years later he still has nightmares of his mom leaving him.

He doesn’t like to talk to anyone but his brothers, preferring to work on his own projects in the woods. Afraid of loving someone else just to be left once again.

Sometimes when he goes to retrieve Tommy from Tubbo’s house and his older brothers tell him he should stay and hang out with them he almost says yes. He knows not having friends will hurt him one day.

Maybe he’ll say yes next time. Till then, he has enough to worry about.

He wipes the sweat off his forehead and sets down his tools inside the shed. He’s shrugging off his jacket when it starts to pour.

It was one of those storms that didn’t start with a drizzle. It fell all at once. The wind picked up quickly and Wilbur could see the ceiling start to drip.

He sighs and puts a bucket under the crack in the roof. He knew the roof leaking already was a bad sign, but even worse was the fact Tommy wasn’t back yet.

It was around 9, the sun hadn’t completely set but the dark clouds made it feel like midnight.

Wilbur props his pillow up and sits against the wall. Partly watching the leak, mostly watching the door.

Of course the first time he let’s Tommy out on his own again is the day it decides to storm. Not to mention that Techno might be caught in this.

He starts to understand why his mom couldn’t raise him anymore. Worrying about his brothers constantly makes him realize how exhausted she must’ve been.

He was grateful he didn’t worry anyone anymore. The last thing Wilbur ever wanted was to burden anyone else.

Sometimes he just wants to sit Tommy down and tell him that he needs to be careful with who he lets in his life. That he doesn’t think his heart could take seeing Tommy get betrayed by someone he trusted.

He snaps out of his sadness when the leak in the roof caves in and water starts rushing in, flooding the shed.

“God dammit.” he mutters before getting up and grabbing clothes out of their basket and anything important off the shelves.

Techno always told them to never grow attached to more than one item. It would only hinder them. Especially when running away.

Techno wanted to take his red fur coat. It was too big to feasibly bring with them so Wilbur grabbed some fabric scissors and carefully cut off a small square and handed it to him the night before they planned to leave.

Tommy was thankfully never much of a material kid, whether that was because he learned everything gets taken or if he just values people more, the brunette didn’t know. He ended up just taking a broken disc turned into an ornament.

Those who don’t know Tommy would find it a very strange choice, but Wilbur and Techno knew how much Tommy loved decorating for Christmas. They were the ones who would pick him up just so he could have the tallest ornament.

Wilbur however grew attached to objects very quickly. So picking just one thing to pack when they left took him the longest. He didn’t really have anything that he’d want to take. He was leaving everything behind for his family, because they mattered more than any keepsake.

He decided he wouldn’t bring anything of his. Rather, while Techno was in another boring meeting he dug through the owner’s file cabinet and took Tommy’s birth certificate and tucked it away in the same, small leather folder where he keeps his songs.

The teen knows this doesn’t mean he’s officially adopted Tommy, but having his records made Wilbur feel more prepared to take responsibility for him.

He pauses on his way out the office and considers taking his and Techno’s as well, but he decides it’s not worth the risk of being caught. They’d be adults soon enough.

Even though Tommy didn’t like going to school, Wilbur wasn’t about to let him quit before even finishing elementary. Once they could find an apartment, he could get Tommy enrolled in a different school where he could have a clean start. Preferably the one Tubbo was in.

He hoped they wouldn’t look too closely into Tommy’s records and if they did, Wilbur would find another school for the boy. For now all he can do is take Tommy’s records and hope he’s making the right decision.

Wilbur sees the wall with their shelves start to lean and he rushes to grab the leather folder. The disc and coat were thrown in too but not before Wilbur was sure Tommy’s official records would be safe.

He concluded the shed was only going to get worse, and as of right now, the water was rushing around Wilbur’s work boots. Only when he thought that the snow was the worst of his problems, now their house was crumbling.

Wilbur felt like he was out of options. He stumbles back when the wall leans dangerously and the roof tries to go with it.

He throws a coat over his bag and takes a deep breath before heading out in the rain to find Tommy.

He wastes no time standing around in the downpour, and keeps his head down as he heads down the familiar path towards town.

The rain is already soaked through his thin coat, he’s numb to the cold with adrenaline now but he knew he was gonna seriously regret this later.

The forest is dark, the occasional flashes of lightning being the only reassurance that Wilbur is staying on the path.

He hated the cold, he hated how cold he’s gonna be wherever he and Tommy end up after this ridiculous beginning to his night.

Hopefully, Tommy went to Tubbo’s house and that’s why he didn’t come home earlier.

Though, it would be very hard for Wilbur to explain to a family who thinks they have parents and a home why he’d come to collect Tommy without an umbrella and a bag.

The bookstore was closer, and Phil would be a lot more understanding. Wil decides that’s a better place to ask about his brother first and takes a sharp right once he reaches the first buildings in the town.

He’s rushing through the abandoned stone streets, trying to avoid the rain however possible. He really hopes Tommy was with someone and not out cold in some alleyway again.

Tommy was a trouble magnet, his extroverted and inquisitive personality always had him running his mouth all over town. Chaos attracted chaos, Wilbur supposed.

He sees the weathered bookstore sign and raps against the wooden part firmly.

“Phil? It’s Wilbur, Tommy’s brother.” He calls from outside, hoping he wasn’t already asleep.

He bounces nervously and waits for a reply, hoping he was louder than the rain. He wasn’t sure how soundproof the apartments on this side of town were.

He huffs in frustration after a few minutes and begins to knock again, as aggressively as he could. The tired boy would apologize for his rudeness later, for now he had a pretty damn good reason to be impolite.

He knows there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to keep his brothers safe. They only had each other, if he didn’t look out for Techno and Tommy, no one would.

If they ever went truly missing, no one would recognize them anyways. No one would care besides the trio.

He’s shivering half from how cold it is, and half at the thought of never seeing his family again when he sees Phil turning his keys and unlocking the shop door.

“Wil? What’s wrong? Come in I’ll go wake Tommy.” He steps aside quickly to let Wilbur in and locks the door back behind them.

Hearing the last part of Phil’s words, Wilbur immediately relaxes. The adrenaline is wearing off now that he’s safe and he starts to realize just how pathetic he must look right now.

“No. Don’t- don’t wake Tommy, please.” He stutters out, which stops Phil on the back steps.

“Alright, we have to be quiet then. The guest room is just off the living room.” He disappears upstairs, hopefully to find Wilbur some dry clothes.

The shivering boy takes a deep breath before walking up the stairs as well. Hoping for somewhere to just sit and figure out what all just happened.

He doesn’t see Phil anywhere so he goes into the kitchen and makes sure the contents of his bag weren’t destroyed. Pulling everything out, the extra clothes and the keepsakes, and lays them down on the small wooden table.

Everything was dry. Thankfully, he hangs his bag up to let it dry and grabs himself a change of clothes.

Phil tosses him a towel and points him towards the bathroom to get dried off.

After he’s changed and attempted to sort out his hair, he leaves his wet clothes in the tub since they wouldn’t get any drier on the clothesline right now. He hopes Phil wouldn’t mind.

He heads back out, the towel still draped across his shoulders like a blanket. He steps into the kitchen to see Phil ladling soup into a white bowl.

“Sit, I reheated dinner. You need to warm up.” He pours him a glass of water as well and sets it in front of him before sitting on the other side of the table.

“Thank you, sorry about all of this. He didn’t tell me he’d be staying with anyone and you-”

“There’s no need to be sorry Wil, I told you this doesn’t bother me.” He laughs slightly, trying to help Wilbur feel more at ease no doubt.

He takes another spoonful before answering. “It’s still rude of us. To keep bothering you like this.” He insists weakly, tired of this night already.

“Tommy was helping me, he came to thank me. Wasn’t expecting that from a child, but talking to you makes me see where he must get it from.

Wilbur smiles at the compliment, and looks down at his bowl. “He really is a polite kid, even when he’s pretending to be obnoxious. I’m glad you noticed that about him, not many do.”

“Why don’t you want me to wake him? He’s worried about you.”

“The shed was collapsing, I don’t want him asking about why I brought a bag of our items till morning.”

“Are you okay? Where’s Techno?” Wilbur sets down the spoon, his appetite is gone.

“He’s in the mountains, he helps the farmers out there. It-It was just me.” He rests his cheek on his hand. “And it’s still just me trying to figure out how to handle this.”

“I’ll help you Wil, you know I’ll watch Tommy, and the guest room is always open.” He stands up to collect the dishes out from a barely tired Wilbur. Who barely noticed the bowl was gone.

“It’s really bad Phil, even if we did try to sleep in it, the blankets and pillows are definitely irreparable. It was always a temporary house. We knew it would give out eventually, just thought we’d already have our own place by then.”

“Stay here then Wil. You can work for me, Tommy can learn to read and Techno can come in whenever he’s back. We’ll fill him in on what happened together. You don’t have to be alone.”

“Just till we have enough money, we won’t intrude for longer than we have to.”

“You’re no bother, I need the help around the store anyways. Besides, it’s too quiet in here.” He closes the door to the ice box and turns to him. “For now, the only other decision you need to make is whether you’re sleeping in the room with Tommy or the couch.”

“Thank you, Phil.”

With that, they go to their separate ways for the night. He opens the guest room door as quietly as he could, to see Tommy completely oblivious to anything that had happened tonight.

The storm had calmed down considerably, only the wind remained when Wilbur finally slept.

[echo-bleu]

Prompt 20 for Malex

Thank you for asking Anon! I have no idea where this came from, but here goes.

20. Reflections in glass

Alex grabs his filled mug with a nod for the barista and makes for his usual booth in the corner. He sits down heavily, his mug making a dull sound as it hits the table. The seat is covered in fake leather that quickly heats up under his thighs, not an altogether bad sensation. Alex extends his leg under the table, wraps his cold hand around the warm drink and leans his head against the window frame.

It's snowing again, and the snow latches onto the sill, leaving wet, grainy spots on the glass. Alex watches the snowflakes fall for a moment, then lets his gaze refocus on the outside, the people in heavy coats and boots hurrying down the street under umbrellas and the cars speeding down the wet, shining street.

The café's lights catch his eyes in the window's reflection, brighter than the stormy sky outside. Alex takes a sip of his coffee and follows the hands of a woman, in the booth closest to his, typing away on her laptop. He can tell the laptop brand and operating system just from the fuzzy reflection, but he looks away, conserving her privacy over her work. A child's laughter resonates over the low rumble of conversations, then the next name called at the line.

Any other time, this place would feels cozy, a little haven of warmth in the cold city. Alex used to dream about New York, about Los Angeles, every big city where he could melt into the crowd and become something else than what his father wanted him to be. Once, he would have loved this, maybe. But he caved, a hand around his throat, and became a good soldier instead. A monster from a family of monsters.

There is no warmth for him now. No anonymity, and certainly no dreams. Only a shred of peace in atonement, if he's lucky.

The reflection makes him jump, and he curses himself for letting someone get so close. He sees the hat first, further away than he first thought, a safe distance still. He brings his leg back under him though, ready to move if he needs to.

The hat is still covered in tiny white snowflakes, melting by the second. Hats only make Alex think of one thing, these days. He sees him everywhere, between the tall buildings, so different from the desert roads and the streets of Roswell. Every man in a dark hat is a reminder. But few New Yorkers wear real cowboy hats.

The swagger is a dead giveaway, one Alex would recognize anywhere. He doesn't turn away from the window, as Michael approaches, hands in the pockets of his worn jeans, backpack on his shoulder. Michael stands there for a second, then slips into the seat across from him.

“You came,” Alex murmurs.

“You asked me to.”

Alex nods jerkily. It's been six months, but Michael's eyes still pierce him the same way, halfway across the country.

“I need your help,” he says. “One last time.”

[thewritingstar]

To Learn to Love Again

Pairing: Gruvia

warnings: character death.. 

Hi! im not dead I swear!! any ways i truly apologize for this one.......like i cried........but i hope you enjoy???? (i need to write cute stuff...its coming!)

----

“Someone as vile as you could never learn love, and that's where you lose.”

Those words had haunted her ever since they had been spoken. Her expression didn’t even waver at the tone and she rolled her eyes before plunging a knife deep into their stomach, silencing them for all eternity. The blood leaked out and she was gone before their leg had stopped twitching. 

And they were right. She could never love, not again.

She had gone through husband after husband. Finding a rich hallow shell of man who would drop to their knees in a slight second and offer her everything, that was what she had. She collected her debt and when she was done, they would be cast aside in the shadows, divorced and some even left for dead.

That look of numbness, it was cold and brutal and brought a frosty chill down anyone's spine who had happened to catch her gaze, it was always there.

Ring after ring, she tossed them aside or would leave them for an orphanage to pawn off just to feed the hungry children, she had some sort of heart beneath all the smoke and fog inside. They never lasted longer than a month and if so, it could rust off before she could ever say ‘i love you’.

Those words, like fire on the tongue, sick to the stomach and made her toes curl in disgust any time someone uttered them to her. It was all one sided. She didn’t need affection or anyone. She could handle herself but taking ego of a man and all his riches could only fill the hole in her heart for long. She had sold her soul along time ago anyways.

Love. It almost had her laugh. Almost. It was pathetic at this point to even think about it, to even give that hope a speck of light. No, she was far to gone now. There was nothing in this universe that brought her pride or joy. Even the sweet lemon candy she once loved had lost its touch and was just a force of habit now.

-- She clean the knife in the sink and set it aside. Her gaze went out the window as the rain trickled on. Something so beautiful and needed for the world to grow had now become a nuisance, flooding everything in its path and drawing people away than in. But she was fine with that, at least she knew her place.

Even in the pouring rain, she grabbed the umbrella. She once had a bright pink one with hearts that danced along the top but traded it for the dark blue as it seemed to fit her better now. Someday she wished she had it back, but that would be too much. It would bring back more bitterness than good. 

She boots squished in the mud and she gave up caring. There was nothing for her now and slowly and slowly she felt herself drifting farther and farther away, wishing she was like the rain. Here for a second, then gone the next. 

“Never learn to love.” She clutched the handle, her knuckles turning white.

She could never love any other.

Not any more.

“Thats where you lose.”

And she had lost.

But they were wrong about love. Wrong about her never feeling the highs and lows of what the feeling was. She had been in love before, a beautiful and wonderful love.

Her memory was constantly playing those times, a loop for only her to know. Where she could run through the forest with him hot on her heels and they would lose their breath and slump against the tree. He would lean over her, hiding her from the burning sun under a tree and kiss her cheek, then her neck, then her lips. She could almost taste him. She could almost see the way his eyes glazed over as he took her in and she could feel the blush. 

Memories of them fighting bad guys and using their strengths to out number their opponents, she would hug him tight after a victory and they would slip away from the crowds and he would tell her how much her loved her.

The times they spent dancing, humming to their own tunes. She remembers how shy he was when they first started dating but then his confidence soared and he made sure that everyone knew how much he adored her.

Her laughed at her jokes, held her when she was sad and cheered her on no matter what. They were the ones people rooted for.

The feeling of love was always with her and it washed away the years of pain and suffering she endured. He was the one to carry her out of the dark, to love her a full capacity. To make her head be in the clouds even on the bad days.

She knew what love was.

And then it ended just as it began. She had love the tragedy in literature and now she was suffering, the only difference was once the book close, you could open it and start again. This was permanent. 

The scream that escaped her lips as she watched his knees buckle to the ground and fall just as he saved her, it echoed through the empty walls of the house they once shared. The blood that coated the fresh fallen snow, stuck to her mind that a broken record player and when she held him in her arm, he gave her a smile.

His head was in her lap and she brushed back his bangs. His chest rising and falling, it stopping faster and faster. Her face was red with tears and anger but all she could see was his dark brown eyes looking up at her. She could tell you the moment when his eyes had lost his soul and turned black. 

“You saved me again.” She said and he had enough strength to bring her hand to his lips. 

“You were always so beautiful even when you cried.” he whispered just as his eyes fluttered. “I love you.” And she didn’t think he heard her when she said it back.

She had lost the only one she had ever loved. And that next day she still walked down in her wedding dress and cried until the sun rose the next day. That pit of despair and fear crawled back into her slowly, undoing all the darkness he had vanished.

There was nothing stopping her, nothing keeping her going. And when they all came to find her, she was long gone, never to be seen again.

-- Her feet slowed as she stopped at a small clearing in the forest.

The money, the jewels, the riches. None of that mattered. 

This life she was living was suppose to be theirs. She was suppose to wake up and see him there. Walk down the path with him at her side and watch as he would make her small sculptures out of ice. He would sit on the counter as she baked and try and distract her. There was so much of the world left to see yet she had lost her universe already. 

Her knees hit the group with a thud but she made no noise as she guided her hand to the cold stone that had his name engraved. The only thing that ever made her feel even the smallest speck of emotion was her ring.

The only ring she had even wore was from him, her beloved. And even that had lost its sparkle over time.

“You know Gray-sama…” She thought this was dumb. Talking to a stone, but right now, more than ever, she needed him. “Juvia thought she could do it… she thought she could be okay.” Her lips trembled and for the first time in a while, she cried. “You taught Juvia how to love. How to be a wonderful and selfless person, you did. And its not fair” Another wave of sadness hit her. She shook her head. “The way you smiled and laughed with your friends, you loved everyone.”

“Juvia just hopes you knew how much she loved you.” She sobbed and she could feel the tears burning her cheeks.

There was a silence, like always and she hoped she would wake up from this bad dream and he would be standing there and his arms would be open and she would run to him and never let go. But she didn’t, and she never would. He was her person and she was his.

She sat at his grave, tracing his name slowly and she prayed that she never forgot the sound of his voice or the smell of his clothes. The feeling of his hands and the texture of his lips had faded like a whisper and before she realized what was happening, it was gone.

“Happy anniversary my love.”

The sky above grew darker as she finally managed to walk away, turning around just to feel her heart shatter again. She could never learn to love again, because how could you love someone when your heart had been given up long ago?

--

And then the minute reset. 

Her eyes were blurry with tears as she heard someone call her name. 

“Juvia!” She looked down to see Gray in her lap, fear in his eyes as pulled her close. 

Her entire memory had become twisted in her mind as she looked around at the battle field then back at Gray. Her tears were full of anger and sorrow.

“Juvia?’ He said worried about that look but before he could finish she had slammed their lips together and pulled him closer to her.

His breath was warm on her face as she pulled away and she looked him in the eyes. they were still the beautiful shade of brown, full of life with pupils blown wide. 

“Gray, promise Juvia you’ll never leave her like that again?”

And the look on her face had sent a cold shiver down his spine. He didn’t know that he had just died and their future had played in her mind, but what he did know in that moment was to never leave her because he loved her.

“I promise.”

She had learned to love, but she would be damned if she ever lost. No, not ever again. 

That night Gray gave her a promise ring and it shined brightly and her tears and sorrow were soon forgotten.

----

Btw i wasn’t going to add the happy ending but then i thought that yall maybe needed it. Im sorry i havent been posting but now that we are in quarantine, hopefully i can get more going, i have alot planned!!

hope you enjoyed!

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XIV: Magna Mater

I wish I knew how to express my thoughts.

See, I’ve been restless as of late; the usual crowds I’ve come to expect at the airport had dissipated. For reasons that were unknown to me. It wasn’t like my workplace was a very popular one to begin with, far from it: no one (or I should say, very few) who showed up at the airport planned to stay in the area. They were either going to or coming from somewhere. Layover. In transit.

Maybe no one was going on any flights around the area. Sorry. That wasn’t really what I wanted to focus on, either. The restlessness was just a byproduct of not having as much work to do.

Was that what it was?

I found myself sprawled out on the hammock in the back of the airport. I stared at my phone and opened up Disarray, a chat app.

“Hmm...who have I talked to lately?”

There were a few names: Dennys, Kitten, Pien. I had met them on an LGBT server and the four of us became fast friends.

I cycled through the different chat windows, but decided not to message anyone. It had been a few days since either party last talked to each other, so I felt like if I were to start up a new conversation, it would be awkward.

But it was also awkward laying down in silence when it wasn’t even close to being evening. So I mustered up the courage and decided to type to my friend Dennys “hi”.

...And then I hit the backspace key and set my phone back down.

What was it about being alone with my thoughts that made me want to start up something, and then in the middle of starting, go back and erase my work?

Ray should have given me something to do. Or even Sunny. Either one of them could have texted me saying “we’ve got a flight booked for so and so.” I wouldn’t even have to see who I was flying. I’d fly them wherever, I’d serve them with a blindfold if I had to. I just wanted to be back in the air.

I wasn’t sure what had come over me. I couldn’t just chalk it up to restlessness or loneliness alone, as I was used to being alone and with long gaps between flights. There must have been other factors as well. I thought it over, something I already knew was a terrible thing to do.

When was the last time I saw or heard from either of them? About a month ago, right? When that girl came over and tricked me into taking her to New Hampshire? Oh shit.

Right. Those two were probably under a lot of grief. I mean, I guess I would be too, if I knew her better.

She said her name was Tony, but then Ray said it wasn’t. I guess Ray does know a Tony, though. So it’s not like there isn’t someone in the world named Tony. In fact, I think there are many people named Tony. So it’s not like I won’t run into one or two Tony’s one of these days.

There goes my thoughts again. The name isn’t the important part. The fact is, I was naive and fell for her trick, then she ran off. Over a week later, Sunny comes by and we go back. Then Sunny tells me that there’s a wildfire (really, I should have noticed what with all the smoke in the air. Sheesh, what world was I in at the time?) and that the girl had been caught in the middle of it. So yeah.

“It’s been a month,” I muttered as I put on a coat. “I wonder how Sunny’s been holding up. Ray too, for that matter.”

Truth be told, I still blamed myself, even thought Sunny told me I did nothing wrong. Never in my experience did I think I would contribute to someone’s death, indirect or otherwise. Which then led to the thought that maybe I had done so without my knowledge in the past. Oh, how I had a tendency to overthink. Or, to focus on the wrong thoughts. To let those thoughts drift and drift into topics far off from the things I wanted to focus on. How common it was.

Next to the coat was a pair of thermal gloves. Then boots. It wasn’t like I could just wear my typical flight attendant or pilot’s uniform, now could I? Not if I was going to walk several kilometers in the snow to check on my boss.

“How have you been holding up?” I planned to ask Ray. “How’s your restaurant doing?”

As I made my way out of the airport and into the outside world, I was hit by a strong gust of wind.

God, I hope there won’t be a blizzard.

Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if there was. As long as no one else was be caught up in it, I’d be fine.

“I’m used to this,” I told myself, but I knew better. Even the most seasoned of folks could face trouble if they weren’t well equipped. It was like how when I used to live in a city where it often rained and my mom would tell me to bring an umbrella and wear a jacket and I would sigh a theatrical sigh and huff and go, “I don’t need one. I’ll be fine.”

Of course, I got soaked. I’d come home all shivering and my clothes stuck to the rest of me. Didn’t stop me from forgetting to bring my umbrella.

It would be at least an hour before I would arrive at the diner. That meant I would be alone with my thoughts for a while. I could try to focus on the echoes of the wind, or listen for any wildlife, but I knew it wouldn’t do me much good. My mind would wander and I would daydream once more.

Focus on the environment. Focus on how the ground looks like mashed potatoes and how I’m just waiting for the gravy to come down. Wait. What is the gravy? Is it a metaphorical thing? Am I the gravy? No. I’m already doing it. OK. Focus on the destination.

“It’s the journey, not the destination” – That quote soon entered my thoughts. Makes me think of an adventure. When really it’s just going to see your boss. Still, what if Ray was like...a boss? Like the final boss of a game? Or the big bad of a fantasy novel. I think if I was in one of those, I’d want to be an elf. Maybe just for the pointy ears.

There was a great deal of things that sprung off from there and it took a while before I could bring myself back on solid ground. I wanted to go back and erase such thoughts, but then what would take its place? My mind seemed like an endless box of clutter sometime and no matter how much I tried to get rid of or give away the clutter, it kept piling up.

What would Sunny have said to that?

“Just go on an adventure and you won’t think so much!”

What I’m doing right now is the closest thing I’ve had to an adventure and here I am, thinking endlessly.

No. That wasn’t right. If I stretched the truth a little, if I could remember the right things and not focus on the irrelevant things, then the journey leading to meeting Sunny and Ray for the first time could have been considered an adventure in of itself. Maybe it would only be interesting to me, and no one else, but it would at least pass the time.

My earliest memory was of me arriving at the airport in Fairbanks, Alaska. Another chilly place. In some respects, my life wasn’t all that different than what it would eventually become. For starters, I was already a flight attendant, albeit, for a commercial airline. As in, I had to deal with obnoxious passengers on crowded flights. I’d go around with peanuts (and no, I wasn’t sure what the deal with them was) and soda and be all, “eat up, monsters!”

Okay, so, no. I didn’t say that. I couldn’t remember what I said, and I think I would have preferred to say something like that, but I was nice (on my good days). I’d carry around a big ol’ smile and play up a cutesy voice. I really wanted people to think of me as sweet and I thought that if I were nice enough with them, they would exchange the same courtesy. However, it didn’t take that long for me to crack, and it would sometimes be over the simplest of things.

“Thank you, sir,” some old lady would say after I handed her a cup of diet coke. My teeth would grind and most of the time I would ignore it or say, “you’re welcome.”

Sometimes however, it would play out like this:

“I’m not –” I would begin to say, but soon change my tune to. “Never mind. You’re welcome.”

I hated that. Yes, I knew that there was some universal experience (supposedly) that says “we don’t correct people,” but damn it, I felt like a coward when I wouldn’t speak up, and then I grew fearful when I would try. That was another thing: I didn’t even want to look back at those things, but those images and scenes would replay regardless. Why? Because my mind was more of an asshole than most passengers out there.

Yes, later, I would be more recognized for who I was and I would be much happier. Likewise, I was aware that most would rather not be reminded of such moments in their past. Not even I. But those things did happen, and they did affect me.

Whether such things happened the day I arrived in Fairbanks, I didn’t quite remember, but I remembered being rather exhausted. So as I waited for the flight back home, I sat next to the window and read a book about a warrior princess who fought dragons.

I found myself unable to finish the page I was on, so I skimmed down, set a bookmark in, and got up from my seat.

Rather than walk off to wander around the gift shops and kiosks, I became transfixed on the view outside; through the thickets of the trees, I thought I could see a fox scurry about. Snow fell from below and it wasn’t even winter. Outside of the pines and the fox, the land was a flat sheet of white. Ice as far as the eye could see (and even further, surely).

Yes, I must have thought. If I were to live anywhere, I would want to live here.

I couldn’t quite place why I was so enchanted by the view, which in hindsight, was rather minimal. One idea may have been that in the cold, empty space, what I thought I needed was a place to be alone. So it came to be that I would dream of a day where I could get lost in those trees, or burrow under the snow, and in the isolation, I would be at peace.

What shook me out from my dreamy ideals was one of my coworkers. If I tried hard, I could have remembered her name. Valerie, maybe? Macchiato? No. That was my favorite drink.

“Manager wants to see you,” she told me.

“Oh!” I jumped, startled.

“Daydreaming again?” She asked.

“Something like that,” I replied, then made my way to the manager’s office. All the while, thoughts cropped up of what it could have been about.

Did I do something wrong today? Did I snap at a passenger? I feel like I did everything right, but I’m not sure. I don’t remember everything that was in the employee manual and I thought I could just wing it. Ha. Wing it. Like wings of an airplane.

No. I don’t think I have anything to worry about. But if I did, what would I have to worry about? Guess I’ll find out. I could play a game of twenty questions on my way there. Ask myself all the things the manager could want to see me about. Oh, but that would be worse.

Ah, if there was one thing my thoughts were good for, it was to help me forget that my legs took me anywhere. I opened the door to the manager’s office, having how I even got there. Blame it on the jet lag.

“You wanted me?” I asked as trepidation seeped through each syllable.

“Hi. Yeah, have a seat, relax,” my manager motioned to the chair.

Ah, the seat of shame. Some days I wondered if there was a button that would send anyone who sat in that seat flying out into the atmosphere. Considering that I wanted to be a pilot, maybe the chair could eject me right into a pilot’s seat and I would have already had my license, and I could fly away, out into the atmosphere. Somewhere where everything could be still and silent.

“So what did you want me for?” I asked as I sat.

“Well, first off, some of the passengers said you were wonderful today, so whatever you did, keep it up.”

That was a surprise to me. ‘Whatever I did,’ I didn’t even remember what I did. As far as I could recall, I was on autopilot.

“Second, I’ve got a job offer for you,” he continued. “From a very wealthy man known as Mr. Chambers.”

“Is he here right now?” I asked.

Mr. Chambers. Sounds like Mr. Burns. Like an evil old man. And he’s wealthy, which pretty much seals the deal that I’m right to make such a comparison.

He shook his head. “No, his health isn’t the best. But he wanted to know if you were interested in working with him. He owns a private airline, and he’s willing to pay you much more than you’re making here.”

My heart faced turbulence. How was I supposed to react to such a thing?

“Why me?” I asked, choked up. “Why not Betty?” I didn’t remember if I had a coworker named Betty. My brain just filled in the gap, since none of my old coworkers’ names came to mind.

“I don’t know, to be honest. He said something about you giving off this air of innocence and reminding him of his lost love, Jeanne d’Eis.”

“Who?”

My manager shrugged. If that question couldn’t be answered, then…

“But me? Innocent?” I asked instead.

“Look, I never said he wasn’t eccentric, but this could be a good opportunity for you. Just think it over.”

Yeah. That I would do. Though I didn’t think I would. As much as I could use the money, the idea of working for a creepy old man got under my skin. Like a cockroach that decided to use my nostrils to hibernate for the winter.

Needless to say, I accepted the offer. Though not right away. When I took my flight back home (and I use the word “home” loosely; nothing against my mom, I’ve just always been distant around her, and I never really felt comfortable there. Still, it was where I was allowed to be, and it was where I slept, when I didn’t sleep on planes or in airports) I stayed a couple of days in my room.

“How was work?” She asked and I shrugged my shoulders, told her it was OK, then went into my room. There I had a desktop computer, an easel for drawing, two full bookshelves, and a bed filled with stuffed animals. Of course, I ignored all of those other items and fell back onto the bed.

“I wish I had boobs,” I said to myself and smiled. “Not too big, but just to say that I had them.”

You could say that I was a late bloomer. Very late. Being in my mid twenties, it seemed odd to say that they never developed, but...some things I just had to will into existence, and you could say that I was late to realize that I wanted boobs.

Of course, later I would have them, and I learned that they weren’t some perfect squish toys that were attached to you, but I was still glad when I got them, so my thoughts turned to them more often than not.

When it came time to go back to work, I remember how I stood against the door when after telling me bye, my mom added, “is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?”

Such a heavy question. That might have been the trouble I had with her: she could go from casual to heavy in the span of five seconds.

“Well, if I don’t live long, then yes,” I joked.

“Be serious. Wouldn’t you rather do something else?”

“I kind of want to get some poetry collections published,” I told her in earnest. Yes, I wrote poetry. They weren’t any good, but at the time I thought my life mirrored Sylvia Plath enough that I had potential (ha. Someone like me who couldn’t even get through a few courses in community college comparing herself to some misunderstood academic?)

“You can’t make a living off of that,” was my mom’s answer. Because of course it was. What else would she have said?

“I know. Well, I also want to be a pilot someday,” I told her. Again, serious.

“It takes money to get lessons, and you’re not very good at saving money. Not to mention, you have trouble keeping focus, and being a pilot requires a lot of concentration.”

In hindsight, I knew she just wanted me to think things through more, and maybe she thought she was being supportive. But with me, I didn’t want to hear anymore.

“Bye,” I told her.

It felt like whether I wished it to be or not, my life was defined by my mother. Worse yet, I sometimes got the feeling that I was just like her.

When I got back to the airport, I told my manager that I would accept the position. Almost immediately, my manager booked me a trip to the most remote part of the arctic. Within the hour of my arrival, I collapsed on the nearest couch, then when I awoke, I was directed to the office of one Mr. Chambers.

His office was a gloomy looking one filled with grotesque paintings of shadowy figures devouring smaller shadowy figures. There were bookshelves against the walls, but none of the books were ones I recognized. When I thought of someone rich, what came to mind was books on business, money, or something related to their profession. Like maybe books on aircrafts. In this case, however, each book was bound in yellow hardback covers and the titles were in a language I hadn’t seen before.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cybele,” Mr. Chambers spoke in a frog-like croak. He was a balding, frail man. Bones that seemed to protrude from his skin and wrinkles layered upon layers of wrinkles, as if some sort of wrinkly birthday cake.

What would a birthday cake made of wrinkles taste like? Skin? Hmm...I don’t think I would want to try one of those. Maybe if it was just really fluffy to the point that it looked like wrinkles. Maybe it could be a carrot cake. That I like. More than actual carrots themselves, in fact.

“Nervous?” He asked.

“Oh! Maybe a little!” I was startled to find that I was still in his office. “First time and all. You know how that can be.”

“Ah, yes, so I do. I was innocent once,” he closed his eyes as he spoke, a slow, cracked whisper. I had to walk closer just to make out most of the words.

Innocent? Me? See, I’m still confused. I guess he’ll find out sooner or later that I’ve had a habit of swearing at customers.

“Um. Yes. Say, what language are those books in?” I asked him. Maybe I thought that in doing so, it would be less awkward.

“Carcosian,” he told me. “A long forgotten language from the long forgotten land of Carcosa.”

“Where is that?” I asked, like a fool, a complete dunce. Less the court jester and more the court clown car. If he said the land was forgotten, how would he know where that was?

“If my memory serves me, it resides in a space between Italy and France, and intersecting Ethiopia. When I lived a more innocent age, I visited there and engorged myself in its kingdom. There, I met a beautiful princess, the mademoiselle Jeanne d’Eis. Oh, how I loved Jeanne d’Eis. I would give anything to see her again, but every time I tell one of my associates that I wish to visit Carcosa, they tell me they haven’t found such a place.”

I blinked. As he told me about this place, I tried to imagine where that would be on a map, but I never was good with geography. One of my online friends, Kitten, lived in France. Maybe I could have asked the kitten where Carcosa was. If she even knew.

Then there was the matter of this person he said he loved. Jeanne d’Eis? She sounded like Jeanne d’Arc, which got me thinking, just how old was Mr. Chambers? Was he old enough to be alive when Jeanne d’Arc was?

Oh, stop that, Cybele! That would make him like 600 years old.

“So what is it that I’ll be doing here?” I mustered up the focus to ask him. In response, he leaned forward and said:

“There are several business partners of mine who fly to and from here. You will accompany them and treat them to exquisite meals and beverages. You will treat them well.”

I gulped. I found myself worried over possible implications.

“When you say treat them well…?”

“Converse. Compliment.”

“Ah,” I let out a sigh of relief.

“If anyone dares to touch you, I will have their hands chopped off and will sew their mouths shut. Rest assured. You will remain innocent.”

Well, as relieved as I was, the ‘innocent’ part still bugged me. Maybe it was the whole idea of purity or something, but it just struck me the wrong way. Especially with how far from the truth that was: I was a jelly bean bag full of flaws.

So that would become my life: I had no true home. When I would stop at an airport, I would rest there. The closest thing I had to one was the airport in which Mr. Chambers resided. When I would stay there, I slept in the break room in the back. There was a hammock set up, and although it could be noisy, and the creaking sounds frightened me, it wasn’t so bad. Really, it was the closest thing to a home that I had.

When I had downtime, I would write poems in my journal. One such poem went something like this:

“I am in ill-repair, yet functional.

A space which permits entry.

Though out of order, you may walk.

Yet you will never go anywhere.

In regards to the past

I am permitted no entry.

Up the stairwell is cracked pavement.

I’m still waiting for that universal experience.

Others claim it exists.

Even in progress, there is discomfort.

In a mix of joy and bewilderment, I wonder:

Have I been an impostor?”

Like I said, they weren’t that good, but at the time I thought I was one hot potato. Like fucking Shakespeare up in this ass, or something. Whatever it was I felt, those poems were the closest I could come to writing a journal entry. I just wasn’t good with being so direct or staying on a single topic. With a poem, I could be more concise, so it was easier to make a snapshot of what I was going through at the time.

So I got all caught up in my work. Then I would catch up on sleep. Time zones were always the trickiest thing, and I wanted so bad to just give up on the concept of time altogether. Then, there were the poems, which also blurred into work, and with my exhaustion, I started to grow less coherent. Case in point:

“Discombobulated sponge bootleg.

Blisters in the back of the boa constrictor.

Bitter taste of kitchen skins.

Saliva in the form of raw dust bunnies.”

Anyway, I’ve tortured myself enough with reciting the words to old poems. The point I wanted to make was that I forgot all about my dream to become a pilot. Then, it happened: Sunny and Ray.

I returned to the barren airport which I called home-adjacent (if it wasn’t a place to call home, then it could at least have been in the realm of it). Right away, I went up the stairs to Mr. Chambers’ office. Except when I got there, the scenery had changed.

The office was near empty. No creepy paintings which I had grown accustomed to. No books that I couldn’t even read if I was allowed to. All that remained was the desk and the swivel chair behind it. Next to the desk was a man in a pinstripe suit with a cane. Next to him was a woman who sat on top of the desk with a tank top on and was chugging down what looked like a bottle of whiskey.

“’Sup?” The woman asked as she leaned her head back. I didn’t know how to answer, but it was clear that my presence was now known. On the other hand, the man took off his glasses and began wiping them down with a cloth rather than acknowledge me.

“Who...who are you two?” My voice shook. “Where is Mr. Chambers?”

While I always found that old man to be creepy, at least I got used to his presence. But those two were unknown and I didn’t know what to make of them. I would soon find out, as the man approached me.

“Ah! Nice to meet you! You must be Cybele! I’ve heard so much about you, haven’t I, Sunny?” He turned back to the woman. She nodded with a grin.

“Sure have, Ray, my partner in crime and in life. And Cybele, I must say! You’re even more adorable than I imagined! I just wanna coddle you!” Sunny added. She sounded like she was joking around, yet at the same time, meant no malice.

“Thanks,” I replied. “But I’m still confused.”

“Oh, Cybele, you poor thing,” Ray spoke. He too, spoke with a mixture; his a combination of concern and trickery. “Mr. Chambers wasn’t who you thought he was. All this time, you’ve been working for someone and had no clue who they really were.”

Well, true, but I didn’t think that would ever be important.

“He changed his name to Mr. Chambers at an old age. Started getting all these ideas in his head about who he was. For months, I befriended him, got to know him a bit, and found out that this place he’s obsessed with? Carcosa? Yeah, it doesn’t exist. It comes from a short story. Fiction, too, mind you. But fiction can be fact enough. All I had to do was convince him that I knew where Carcosa was and he was ready to give up all of his assets to me. Which included his money, this airport, and his private plane. Which is now mine, by the way.”

That was all a lot to take in. Mostly that I would now be working for some crooked couple, but that wasn’t all that important, was it? I mean, rich people tend to be pretty crooked, too, so what did it all matter? Really, as long as I was up in the air, I could disregard every other detail. Even if my head was in the clouds, at least I could make the rest of me be as well.

“Hello?” Ray snapped his fingers in front of me. “Were you paying attention, Cybele? We scammed a billionaire out of his money and made him think he was about to reunite with his lost love. Hey Sunny, was this the first time we’ve stolen from a billionaire?”

Sunny cackled. “First time it was this easy.”

“Did you catch any of that, Cybele?”

“I...I…” I stuttered. “He said he was in love with Jeanne d’Eis.”

“Yeah,” Ray replied. “Jaundice. The man was in love with jaundice.”

Oh. Why hadn’t I seen that sooner? Why was I so ready to accept that he really knew someone by that name? Why didn’t I think to question many of the things Mr. Chambers said further? Oh, why did I bother to ask myself such things when it wasn’t even important anymore?

“Anyway,” Ray went on. “You can rest assured we’re not billionaires. Well, we would be, except we just gave away all his money to hundreds of other people. But don’t worry: you can stay. I always find ways to pay the people I hire.”

I couldn’t figure out what to make of the situation. I collapsed onto the floor and the last thing I heard was Sunny saying, “oh dear, the poor thing fainted.”

That was my first encounter with the scheming couple. Really, they turned out to be great people. Ray let me redesign the office any which way I liked. Instead of buying a proper bed, I just made it into a break room, while the old break room remained my bedroom. Even if I still didn’t sleep on a bed.

Sunny and Ray also funded my flying lessons, and it was thanks to them that I was able to get my pilot’s license. There was only one catch, and it was that Mr. Chambers’ Ray’s private aircraft already ran on autopilot. But it still required help for liftoff and landing. So it was a bit of a compromise.

Really, my life was full of compromises. Like how I managed to get boobs, but then they didn’t end up growing very big.

I recall a poem I had written being about how everything in my life thrived on trade-offs:

“To know ‘thyself’ is an important thing.

If I am a self I am one that is compromised.

My life is defined in the middle of a line;

How I wished to occupy that other side.

If only I could be defined by my own words.

Without it being an autobiography.”

Not my best work, but after years of just using it as a means of journaling, I’ve more or less accepted it as a hobby. My recollections would have to wait before I could paint a more perfect picture of the order of events; I had finally made it to the diner.

When I opened the door, I expected to see customers. Maybe Ray in the kitchen. Or Sunny over the counter, making small talk with Ray. Instead, the lobby was just as barren as the landscape outside of the diner. There were only two people, one of which wasn’t Ray: Sunny, and some tall, dark haired woman with glasses.

Before I could approach Sunny, this little kid with cheddar cheese looking hair ran up to me.

“HEY! WE GOT A CUSTOMER!” The kid yelled at the top of her lungs. I backed away. My ears rang, although they were already ringing before I entered the restaurant, due to the cold.

“Shit! Shit!” I heard a squeaky voice respond. From the back, I noticed the sound of a door open, and then my eyes turned citrus: it was the same wavy green haired girl who I thought had died. She too saw me, and was taken aback as well.

“Uh? Can someone else take her order?” She looked around. “No? No one? Just me?”

She then looked up at me. I wasn’t quite sure what to say, though I was relieved, at the very least.

“Look, I…” She began as she shuffled her feet and looked down at the floor. “I’ve been avoiding the airport so I wouldn’t have to see you, ‘cause I, uh...feel bad about what I did. So yeah. Like, sorry, and stuff.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” I told her.

Once I said that, her expression changed from nervous to excitement as her eyes widened and her voice elevated.

“Really? Wow! Then I’ll be sure to come by again in the future! After all, I’m bound to nearly die again!”

“Maybe dial it back again?” I suggested with nervous laughter. “Besides that, I’d be happy to see you around.”

Would I? Yes, I said that, but was I just saying it to be nice? Not that I thought there was anything wrong with her, aside from tricking me and nearly getting herself killed, that is. Then again, I don’t know the whole story so I’d rather hold back judgment. Like I said, I’m just glad to see her alive. But does that translate to wanting to be friends with someone? Well, not that it was ever suggested. Maybe friendly, yes. As part of my job.

I was reminded of a poem I once wrote:

“One day I told a friend:

‘I don’t mind if you consider yourself unforgivable.’

Followed up by another statement,

‘I will remain beside you.’

But that was a daydream, a hypothetical situation.

Of a friend who didn’t exist.

Of one I wish I had so I could forgive.

Or, if I could be that friend, against all rationale

was forgiven.”

I remembered showing Dennys the poem when I wrote it and his reply was, “it’s a little on the nose, tbh.”

That response was something I would have expected from Kitten, being as blunt as she was, but Dennys was more known for smoking blunts, not being blunt. In turn, I grew defensive and went, “on the nose? Really? You’re saying I suck, then?”

“Nah,” he typed. “But come on. Obvs you feel bad for leaving home and being all alone, but you don’t wanna say it.”

“Then how should I be less ‘on the nose’?” I replied.

“Just be direct,” he responded with. I was puzzled, if I was being honest, but in my defiance, I was like, “fine. How’s this for direct?” And typed up a ‘poem’ on the spot:

“I’m restless.

I feel guilty about leaving things behind.

I’m anxious. I’m trans.

I don’t feel bad about saying it.

I’m uncomfortable in most situations.

That has more to do with anxiety than being trans.

I’m happy.

Also lonely.

I have trouble staying on a single topic.

Also I had an egg salad sandwich for breakfast.”

Then, I sent it to him. His response?

“Dang, that was the best thing you’ve ever written.”

“Fuck you,” I replied. Though I had to admit, I laughed.

“No, really. You should submit it, to, like, a waffle place. They’d probs pin it on their wall.”

“What. Does. That. What?”

“Yeah. Like, I don’t know. I just had this killer waffle burrito with pecans and maple syrup and it banged. Like, all the way.”

That was as much as I could remember of the conversation, which sucked, because there were probably more important things that were said right after that. Anyway, the first poem, more so than the second, reminded me of the little troublemaker waitress.

“Um? You alright there?” The girl asked me and I jumped.

“Yes, sorry. I spaced out.”

“Cool. So anyway, you gonna order anything?”

I thought it over. I was hungry, but I wasn’t sure what I would want to eat.

“For now, just some hot chocolate would be nice,” I told her.

“Cool, cool. I’ll go tell the manager,” she replied, then ran off into the kitchen.

The manager? Does she mean Ray?

“Hey! Cybele! Come sit down!” Sunny called to me. If she hadn’t, I might have stood in place for hours on end.

I walked over and sat next to Sunny, right across from the serious looking dark haired woman.

“Atta girl! Now sit on my lap!” Sunny patted her knees.

“No thank you,” I muttered. That was Sunny’s vibe: so energetic, so carefree and full of life. But sometimes, just a little too doting for comfort.

Everyone else gave off a different vibe, though they all seemed like they fit in just fine. Me, on the other hand, I knew I was going to be out of place from the moment I stepped in.

This isn’t my domain.

“So what brings you here, Cybele?” Sunny asked, though my focus turned to the person seated across from her. What kind of conversations were they having before I entered? Did I interrupt something? Something important?

“Oh, nothing really,” I replied. “There just haven’t been many people at the airport, so I figured I’d stop by.”

“Well, it’s good to see you!”

Then, the serious looking one extended her hand to me. I shook it.

“Nice to meet you, Cybele. My name is Rae Morris. I’m an accountant.”

“Your hand is remarkably warm,” I remarked. I guess. Damn, how I regretted using the word ‘remarkably.’

“No. You’re mistaken. It’s quite cold, actually,” she let go.

“Oh yeah, huh. Maybe you’re right. I was just outside for a while so maybe my hands haven’t quite warmed up yet.”

“Indeed,” she smiled.

“So, an accountant, huh? What are you here for?” I hoped my questioning didn’t come off as rude. My intention was the opposite.

“Ray hired me to manage his finances.”

“Isn’t that usually the manager’s job?” I felt like I dug myself deeper, but to my surprise, she didn’t seem the least bit annoyed.

“The interim manager doesn’t know math,” she explained. That just left me with more questions.

“Interim manager? What happened to Ray?”

“Oh hun,” Sunny put her hand on my shoulder. I really wanted to ask her to let go. “Ray’s in the hospital right now. He had a bit of an injury.”

“Oh…” I didn’t know how to react. I felt my heart sink into my chest. “I hope he gets better.”

“He will! He’s recovering! He’ll be back in no time!” Sunny reassured me.

“Who’s the manager, then?” I asked, and before anyone else could answer me, the green haired girl came up to me and handed me a mug of hot cocoa.

“The manager said this one’s on the house,” she told me.

“Thanks, but, uh –”

“I’m the manager!” Out stormed the cheddar cheese haired girl.

I was taken aback. “This kid?” I pointed.

Sunny giggled. “Ray thought it would be funny to put Tigershark in charge.”

“Tigershark?”

“Me!” The manager slammed her palm into her chest and declared. “The tiger-est! The shark-est! The best chef in the world!”

Well, that sure was something. I took a sip of the hot cocoa and was blown away.

“Do I taste nutmeg? And cinnamon?”

“Yes!” She put her hands on her hips and grinned.

“It’s really good.”

“I’ll go tell the chef! Wait! That’s me!” Tigershark then began to laugh a bellyful as she walked away.

The waitress then turned to Rae.

“I’m still not used to seeing you around,” she sounded like she suspected Rae of something. “And I haven’t seen Remora in days.”

“But Demetria, that is Rem –” Sunny began before Rae interrupted her.

“That is remarkable, indeed, Sunny. While I have no idea where Demetria’s friend may be, I hope that you will see her again soon.”

So Demetria was the troublemaker. Got it. I was getting acclimated now, I could feel it.

“Still,” Rae continued. “It really is a shame what happened to Ray. I heard some bastard shot his hand over some dispute. Now, who would react in such a manner is beyond me, but people these days.”

“But wasn’t the one who shot him y –” Sunny replied, but was cut off once again by Rae.

“Yes, Yukon gold potatoes. That will really do a man in. They’re so delicious, I don’t think even I would be able to resist.”

Ray was shot by potatoes? Gee, just goes to show how little I know. Now that I think of it, Ray...Rae…

“You know, your name is really similar to –” And just like Sunny, I too was interrupted.

“Ray’s, yes. That’s probably why he hired me.”

Yeah, that did sound like Ray, all right. Then again, I was reminded of a couple years ago when Ray came up to me out of the blue. I was in the “office” hanging some model airplanes from the ceiling when Ray barged in.

“Cybele, you won’t believe this!”

Probably not, I thought. Considering it’s from you. But I’ll nod along.

“So some of the regulars at the diner have said that they’ve seen this person around who looks an awful lot like one Ms. Rhea Flection. Now, you’re probably wondering who this mysterious woman is –”

What am I doing right now? What could I be doing right now? Is listening to Ray an effective use of my time, were the thoughts running through my head as he rambled on about some mysterious lady that had nothing to do with me.

“– So even though it’s probably nothing, I have a good feeling about this. Imagine: me meeting a hired killer. What would the odds be, huh? Still, if by some miracle she did exist, think of how good she would be for my restaurant!”

Oh dear. This is jaundice all over again.

Maybe it was something to do with the location that made people all weird. First there was Mr. Chambers, then Ray. At least with Ray, it seemed like he had managed to settle down and I didn’t hear much more from him about this (probably fictional) lady.

“Actually,” I told Rae. “Now that I think of it, there was someone else with a similar name as you that Ray told me about.”

As I said that, I watched Rae clench her fists and grind her teeth. I thought that maybe I had struck a nerve, but then she smiled once more.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said, which sounded like a threat, though I would have rather seen it as a compliment.

“What? Really?” Demetria leaned in. “Yeah, I guess so. But Remora’s still cuter.”

“Demetria, Rae is –” Sunny was once again interrupted.

“Really wondering who this other person Ray told you about,” I watched as Rae’s eyes locked on mine.

“Oh, well, that,” I got all nervous. “I can’t really remember. I think she might have been native here?”

“Ah. Well, that explains it, then. I’m not from here.”

“You’re not?” I was surprised. She did look like someone who could have lived in Nuuk. Maybe it was the dark brown hair.

“I’m from Denmark. I’m just visiting. Hence why I can’t stop shivering here.”

That explained it. I should have realized.

“Hey!” Demetria leaned over and reached her hand out. “Are those my glasses?!”

Rae swiped Demetria’s hand away.

“Yes. But I didn’t steal them. I had Tigershark take them from your room.”

Demetria stood stunned. “It’s all coming together now…” She muttered. “You know, I would be jealous that you called Cybele cute, but after meeting Hera, I don’t even want to think about the word jealousy.”

“Hera?” Rae asked.

“Oh, you didn’t miss anything. She was just some assassin, apparently. She said I could be a janitor, which I guess is like an assassin, but –”

“No,” Rae wouldn’t let her finish. Which came as no surprise to me, given she did the same with Sunny. “I think you’re capable of better than that.”

“I dunno,” I spoke up. “I think custodians go underappreciated.”

“Yes, which is why I think she should find a place where her talents won’t go unnoticed,” Rae replied.

“That’s not the kind of janitors I’m talking about! And I only want to be noticed by you!” Demetria protested. Or argued. I wasn’t sure which, and if I tried to figure out which word was more appropriate, I might have missed a whole other conversation. Even if I had no stake in the whole thing, I figured any conversation they had would be far more interesting than anything I could bring to the table.

“I still can’t get over the fact that your hair isn’t red anymore,” Demetria added, or maybe a new conversation had started. I couldn’t tell which. I didn’t think that I missed anything, but at the same time, I didn’t notice any segue into that.

“Really?” Rae smiled. “But this is closer to my natural hair color and I figured it was time for a change. You know, before I dyed it red, my hair used to be blue.”

“Is that important?”

Good question, Demetria. Was there any significance in making such a comment? None that I could tell. So in my mind, it was just “much ado about hair color.”

“I don’t know. Sunny, do you think that’s important?”

Sunny gave a thumbs up. “It’s only important if you want it to be, dear!”

“Then no. It’s not important.”

“But what IS important is hugging Cybele! Because she’s so precious!”

Sunny then leaned over and wrapped her arms around my stomach with such a tight force. I just about jumped out of my seat and yelped in shock. Needless to say, I wasn’t prepared for something like that.

“Actually…” I spoke up. “I don’t like it when you pat my head or my shoulder or hug me without warning. It makes me uncomfortable,” the words forced their way out of me and I thought I was about to burst into tears.

Sunny let go and sat back up. She blinked and everyone else fell silent. I looked around the room.

“I’m sorry,” I tried to do damage control for myself. Even though I wasn’t quite sure what damage there even was.

“No, it’s okay,” Sunny smiled wide. “I had no idea, but now I know, so I’m sorry that I’ve made you uncomfortable! And we can do other comfortable things instead, right? Like go on a girls night out?”

“Don’t do it,” Demetria whispered my way. “She’ll take you to a volcano and try to sacrifice you there.”

I gulped. Was that true? No, that didn’t seem right.

“What about you, Demetria?” Sunny directed her attention away from me. Good. The less focus there was on me, the better.

“Not unless Remora comes along so I can impress her!”

“That’s between you and Remora,” Rae shook her head and smiled. “I’m Rae right now.”

Right now? I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but just hearing all four of them interact made me think of how quirky they all must have been. What fantastic lives they must have led. They really had that “main character” material. Even Rae.

But I on the other hand exhibited none of that.

There was that old saying, “everyone’s the main character of their own story,” but I never really saw myself that way. Whenever I thought about it, which I had ample time to do so, I couldn’t think of anything interesting about me. The closest thing might have been the interesting people who I met while daydreaming.

There was one day, several years back, when I lived in the city, and I had taken the subway train home. On one particular stop, an old lady got off and left behind a manila envelope. My instinct was to grab it, to try to run out and hand it to her, to tell her that she dropped it. But instead, I thought, “maybe she left it there on purpose? Maybe it has some secret documents that she wants people to find?” There was the possibility that if I were to open it, I would be thrust into a secret web full of conspiracy and espionage. I didn’t think I wanted that. So I ignored it and went home.

That was an odd memory to bring up, but it got me thinking about how often I was alone in that airport and if I really left any sort of impact on anyone.

“If I were to die, how long would it take someone to notice?” I blurted out. Without even thinking about it. Everyone else said nothing to that. Sunny had a worried expression, like maybe I was depressed or something, but I wasn’t. Rae responded:

“Not long. At first you think that no one really knows about you, right? But people start to notice after a while that you’re gone. So people begin to bring you up a lot more often in conversation, and everyone has all these little ideas about you. That said, if you wanted to go unnoticed, I don’t know what the best solution for that would be.”

Um. No. I didn’t expect such an answer. I didn’t even expect to say such a thing out loud.

“Sorry. I do want to be noticed. I just don’t really know where my head goes sometimes.”

That’s what I said, but I didn’t really like having the spotlight on me, either. Maybe there was a good way to describe being noticed without being noticed, but I didn’t know. All I knew is I kept making things uncomfortable for both me and everyone else.

I got up. It was too much to handle being there. Maybe I wasn’t in the right state to see others, and I had rushed it. “Thank you for the cocoa, and it was good to see you all. I’m going to head back now.”

Sunny got up behind me.

“Hey, it’s looking pretty bad out there. Wanna ride on my electric sled?”

That was a new one. I never knew she had one of those.

“Usually people have snowmobiles, but sure,” I let out a little laugh. “Why not?”

Well, I shrugged my shoulders and waved goodbye as Sunny brought out an electric sled and the two of us rode off. The whole trip back to the airport was a total rush. Maybe if nothing else, I could at least enjoy experiences like those.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @FoolishSel!

Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoy.

Read on AO3

*****

Emergency Contact

The early winter blizzard hit D.C. swiftly, bringing with it huge swathes of beautiful snowflakes, interspersed with splattering droplets of freezing rain. It’s a day to be inside with a cozy blanket and maybe some tea. Hell, even a tea cozy or some other suitably domestic shit.

Instead of being inside, though, Stiles is outside, red-cheeked and frigid, waiting to cross the street to seek refuge in one of his favorite coffee shops between classes. 

Because, of course, classes aren’t cancelled. That’s crazy talk.

Luckily, Lydia made sure Stiles bought appropriate snow boots and a down coat, so Stiles is bundled up, complete with a huge backpack weighing his shoulders down. Everything hurts and the umbrella he’s holding up against the freezing rain keeps blowing inside out.

The crosswalk changes and Stiles steps forward, fussing with his umbrella, and promptly slips.

There’s the loud thwack as his head slams against the concrete and then, nothing.

*

Stiles drifts at the periphery of consciousness. The lights are too-bright against his closed eyelids and the pain too-sharp in every atom of his being. He drifts until the tell-tale sounds of beeping and squeaky wheels register as hospital. His heartbeat ratchets up and he tries to open his eyes but is blinded by fluorescent lights. A warmth engulfs his hand as it’s squeezed. The grip is strong but soft. Pain bleeds from Stiles’ body and he relaxes against his will. 

“You’re okay,” he hears. 

He knows that voice. 

“Go back to sleep, Stiles.” 

He drifts away, feeling anchored.

*

When Stiles is among the land of the living again, he’s much more lucid. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

He opens his eyes through the pain throbbing in his head and looks around. For a hospital, the room isn’t half bad. It’s a private room, with two comfortable chairs, a sleek-looking TV, and a bedside table upon which sits a huge bouquet of flowers. 

He knows very well he can’t afford this.

Perhaps the most important accessory is the werewolf sitting in the corner reading a dogeared copy of Don Quixote. Derek looks immersed in his book, but the book is upside down. 

Upon closer inspection, Derek looks beard-ier than usual and thoroughly exhausted.

Something tugs in Stiles’ heart. He hopes it’s related to his injury.

“I see--” Stiles coughs, clearing his throat. 

Derek drops his distracted pretense and rushes over to hold a cup of water to Stiles’ lips, while placing a gentle hand at the nape of his neck to guide his swallows. Stiles drinks and tries not to notice the carefulness of Derek’s movements or the intensity of his gaze.

Trying to speak again, Stiles smiles up at Derek. “I see you’ve mastered the ability to read upside down.” Derek squints, all confused-wolf, scrunchy-face, before he glances at the book. His ears tinge pink and he murmurs, “Shut up, Stiles.”

*

By the time a harried nurse comes in, Stiles has the full deets: he’s been in and out of consciousness for the better part of a day. His head and tailbone met with an icy road, resulting in a bruised tailbone and concussion. Luckily, some kind folks helped him out of the road so he’d been spared from being hit by a car. 

He still feels like he’s been hit by a car. 

Derek had been listed as Stiles’ emergency contact (only because he lives closest to D.C. these days!) and had immediately come to Stiles’ side. Yes, his dad knows, and had to be convinced not to charge into D.C .with an entire cavalry to right any perceived wrongs.

Stiles is secretly pleased Derek traveled the four hours. 

“Derek here hasn’t left your side,” the nurse coos, and Derek glares at her back. “You’re so lucky to have such an adoring husband.”

It isn’t Stiles’ fault that he’d been drinking apple juice at that point. He sprays the nurse in the face and, god, that’s not the kind of facial he’s interested in giving.

He glances at Derek’s horrified face.

While the nurse scurries toward the Kleenex, Stiles mouths, “Husband?”

*

When the nurse escapes after Stiles apologizes profusely, he points one finger in Derek’s direction.

“Spill.”

Derek sighs and his shoulders slump in defeat.

He’s well-trained. Pun intended.

*

Derek received a phone call from the hospital since Stiles listed Derek as his emergency contact. Which is a thing Derek now knows, and Stiles is trying to forget that they both know. There’s too much knowing. 

The hospital assumed Derek was Stiles’ significant other. In order to stay with Stiles, Derek had played along, telling them that they’re husbands. The idea makes Stiles feel slightly better about listing Derek as his soulmate on the emergency contact forms when he’d registered this past semester. 

What? He’d been drunk at the time.

“Where’s my ring?”

Derek looks up from his book. His hand squeezes Stiles’ again; black tendrils snake up his arms, where he’s draining Stiles’ pain. 

Stiles’ eyelids flutter as he sighs in bliss.

“What.”

“I’d like a ring if we’re married.” Stiles smirks. “And a honeymoon.”

“I need,” Derek says, shooting up from his chair with werewolf speed. He pauses. “Uh, coffee. Yeah. Be right back,” he mutters.

There’s a flush on the back of Derek’s neck as he leaves the room. Stiles, somewhat high from werewolf healing and close proximity to Derek, grins.

*

“Why am I your emergency contact?” Derek asks later. It’s dark out and only a small lamp is lit in the room. It feels safe, with Derek’s hand on his arm. Stiles isn’t sure why it’s there since there’s no pain leaching going on, but Stiles isn’t stupid enough to point it out.

“Why not?” Stiles says flippantly. He shrugs and ponders asking Derek to get him some more apple juice.

“Stiles,” Derek says, intense. His hand is a loose but firm circle around Stiles’ elbow. He squeezes.

Stiles swallows, catches Derek’s gaze. “I trust you,” he says. “I knew I’d want you here if I got hurt. That you’d come for me.”

Derek stares at him for so long, too long. Stiles feels antsy, like he’s said too much or entirely the wrong thing. Why did he think that this was a possibility after all the years of denial and yearning?

Derek’s hand loosens and then his fingers are stroking along Stiles’ bicep. It’s comforting, but it’s charged, and Derek’s intense, gorgeous eyes are dark. Oh.

“I’ll always come for you,” Derek says sincerely.

It’s the most romantic declaration Stiles has ever heard, but also the funniest. 

He laughs so loudly a nurse bursts in to check on them.

*

Stiles leaves the hospital with Derek’s arm around his shoulder. It’s entirely unnecessary as he’s led to Derek’s car since most of the snow has melted.

Derek situates Stiles in his seat, with Stiles facing the outside of the car. Derek kneels, dropping to one knee, and all the air leaves Stiles’ lungs.

“Are you proposing?” Stiles asks in a rush. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips.

Derek cups his cheek and Stiles feels the soft puff of air as Derek chuckles. “It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” 

The kiss is slow and soft, and Stiles still moans into it. Derek seems just as affected: when Derek pulls back, he’s panting.

“You have a break from school for a few days,” Derek says. “Would you like to go back to the cabin with me?”

Stiles brightens. 

“Can it be our honeymoon?”

Derek shakes his head fondly as he helps Stiles into the car, but doesn’t deny it.

Ha! 

Totally a honeymoon.

[verai-marcel]

An Unconventional Union (RDR2 Fanfic, 18+, Deputy Arthur x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You told Arthur he had to take responsibility. It was your teasing way of asking him to marry you. You didn’t expect anything; just a small ceremony at the church, but fate had other plans. (Part of the Fortnight of Falling arc.)

Author’s Notes: This starts right after A Reason To Return.

Tags: romance, fluff, smut, high honor Arthur

AO3 link is right here, kitten.

--------------------

The smell of bacon and eggs wafting through your small cabin made your stomach growl. You finally got up and washed up, putting some clothes on before plopping down at your small square table. A plate of food was placed in front of you, and you ate ravenously.

“Hungry, kitten?” Arthur chuckled as he tousled your hair.

You moved your head out of his reach and grunted an affirmative as you shoved the last bit of egg into your mouth. Then you looked up at him and noticed he hadn’t made any food for himself. 

“What about you?”

“I’ll git some food later, just wanted to watch you for a bit,” he said as he tenderly pet your head.

You looked away, feeling shy about his intense fixation with you, and got up to take the plate to the sink. He took it away from you and kissed your cheek.

“So, should we go down to the church today?”

He was wearing just his work pants, black as night, and nothing else. You really wanted to just drag him to bed again as you watched him wash your dish and fork.

“Um, today?” you asked instead.

He smiled. “You told me to take responsibility for ya. Might as well do it today.”

You sputtered. You weren’t a fancy lady by a long shot, but you at least wanted a wedding dress. And perhaps some time to really think about what you were doing. “Could I get a dress first? And maybe we should let the pastor know before we just show up all of a sudden?”

Arthur dried your dish and fork and put them away, biding his time before responding, purposely making you wait. You shuffled on your feet, impatient for an answer, not knowing why you bothered to ask for permission.

Finally, he turned towards you as he spoke. “Sure, you can get a dress. I’ll go tell the pastor.”

“R-right now?”

Arthur was picking up his clothes and putting them on. “Why not?”

“I have work! You have work! Can’t it wait until my next day off?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He sauntered up to you and poked you gently in the cheek. “But only because you asked.”

***

The week passed slowly, with Arthur still escorting you home every evening, and still letting you have your nights to yourself, even though he’d give you that heated gaze whenever he said good night. Every night, he’d ask you if you’d picked up a dress yet.

“No, not yet,” you’d reply, and he’d raise an eyebrow but said nothing more about the subject.

That was, until the evening before your next day off. The evening before the big day.

“You need a dress,” he stated as you left the doctor’s office.

You merely nodded, falling into step next to him as he walked with you to his horse. You couldn’t deny that you were still putting it off.

“So, I got you one.”

You did a double take and gaped at him.

“I’m sure it fits.” 

His confident tone and the twinkle in his eyes made you raise an eyebrow at him as you got onto his horse, him following you up.

He just smiled mysteriously as he took you home.

***

You stood in your cabin, a little concerned that Arthur knew how to get into your house without your key, and stared at the white dress that was laid out on the bed. It was simple, an A-line dress with bell shaped sleeves and an illusion neckline in white lace. 

You strained to find fault with it, to find a reason to tell him to take it back. But you couldn’t.

You loved it.

“You sure this will fit me?” you asked tentatively, unwilling to believe in something so perfect.

“Try it on for me.”

You glared at him. “The moment I take my clothes off, I won’t get a chance to try it on.”

Arthur tried to look affronted, but there was a twitch in his lips that gave away his amusement. “You doubt my self-control?”

“Have you given me a reason not to?” you said with a sardonic grin.

He tilted his head back and forth as he considered your words. “I guess I can’t argue with that.” He stepped away from you and tipped his hat. “In that case, I’ll leave you to it, my lady. Meet me at the church, tomorrow at noon.”

You watched him leave your cabin, both apprehensive and excited.

Excited because you were really getting married tomorrow.

Apprehensive because life never went this smoothly for this long without consequences.

***

You stood in the doorway and stared outside, the rain falling like a veritable curtain of water, keeping you from leaving your cabin easily. Sighing deeply, you went back inside and searched for your rain cape and umbrella. Finding them, you set them next to the door and pulled out one of your shabbier blouses and skirts. If you had to go out in the rain, you wouldn't ruin your wedding dress. 

You had put on the dress in the morning and it fit wonderfully, as if Arthur had known every curve, every dip of your body. He knew it too well, you thought, for him to get this dress so well tailored without you there. You twirled around in your cabin, loving the feel of it against your legs and skin, imagining yourself a beautiful princess for just a second before you heard the thunder. And then the rain came with little preamble, washing away your chances for a sunny walk into town in your lovely dress.

“Guess I’ll put this on when I get there,” you mumbled to your poor dress, and started to take it off carefully to shove into a suitcase so you could bring it to the church.

A knock on your door startled you. You weren't even halfway out of your dress yet, so you slipped it back on. Cautiously walking to the door, tentatively holding the handle, you called out. 

“Who’s there?”

“Arthur.”

Opening the door, you were surprised to see him standing before you, wearing a heavy coat that was soaking wet.

“Get in here,” you ordered, and he quickly came in and peeled off his drenched jacket and hung it on the chair, moving it closer to the fireplace. Then he threw a couple pieces of wood into the fireplace and lit it with a match from your mantle.

“I thought I was meeting you at the church,” you said, watching him take off his boots.

“Saw the rain comin’. Told the pastor we’d come by next week and came straight here. Knowin’ you, you woulda forced yourself through the storm to keep yer word.”

You smiled wryly. He did know you.

He started to take off his pants and overshirt, and you quickly went to grab a towel to dry him off. Helping him lay out his wet clothes on the table and lifting it closer to the fireplace as well, the two of you looked at each other, him in just his short drawers and you in a wedding dress. 

At the same time, you both started laughing.

“Some weddin’, huh?”

“Some wedding, indeed.”

Arthur, with the towel wrapped around his shoulders, took your hands and kissed them tenderly.

“We could just say our vows now.”

“I d-don’t know what to say,” you stammered.

“Just say somethin’ from the heart.”

“Y-you first.”

Arthur chuckled. “Alright, kitten.” He stepped forward and held your face in his big, warm hands. He kissed your forehead. Then the tip of your nose. And both your cheeks.

“I’ll always come for you. Through rain or snow, through anythin' that gets in my way, I’ll come when you call fer me.”

You swallowed, the emotion in his eyes threatening to overwhelm you. Your heart pounded so loudly that you could feel it trying to burst from your chest. 

He waited patiently for you to say something. But you couldn’t think of anything. Words were lost to you. So you communicated with him the way you always did when you found it hard to speak.

You pressed your forehead against his, and entwined your fingers with his, moving them from your face to your heart. Together, the two of you took deep, quiet breaths, feeling your heartbeat against his hands. 

“This,” you finally said in barely a whisper. “This will always be yours.”

Arthur’s smile was warm and gentle, like he was being blessed with the most beautiful thing in the world. He leaned in and kissed you, one hand returning to your face as his other arm wrapped around you and pulled you against him.

“Be a shame to ruin this dress,” he muttered.

“Guess I better put it away for safekeeping.”

“Maybe I can help ya with that.”

“Maybe.”

Arthur reached for the front buttons, undoing them slowly as he looked into your eyes as a covetous heat grew in his gaze. You swallowed, your hands clinging to his forearms as he worked his way down, down, until he got on one knee before you to undo the remaining few buttons, the last one ending right over your lower belly. He pulled you close and kissed you right below your belly button; you could feel the heat of his lips through the thin fabric of your chemise.

Then he stood up, clasped the collar of your dress, and leisurely pulled it off your shoulders and let it fall from your body, revealing your cute white chemise; it was simple, elegant, and a bit shorter than usual, ending at your knees. Arthur’s hands skimmed your hips. His eyebrows rose when he didn’t feel any drawers beneath the fabric.

“That all yer wearin’?”

You smiled shyly. “Didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, kitten,” he moaned as he wrapped his arms around you and carried you to the bed. Falling upon you, he kissed you passionately, grinding himself against you as his hands gripped you tightly, holding you like he wanted to melt into you. Feeling how ready he was to take you, your hips lifted, wanting to feel that sublime connection to him.

He got up from you just long enough to drop his drawers before grabbing the front of your chemise.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he rumbled before he tore your garment open, exposing your body to his eager gaze.

“Arthur!”

He murmured your name before he stole your lips and pinned you to the bed, rubbing the head of his cock against your wet folds, rolling his hips back and forth to tease you. You angled your hips and spread your legs to let him in, and he took your invitation, lifting up slightly and nudging you open. He slowly sank inside of you, both of you moaning, intoxicated by the feel of your physical joining. 

“Yer all mine now, Mrs. Morgan.” He thrust hard into you. “My darlin’ wife.”

Arthur started to pound you into the bed, unable to control his movements as he lost himself in your arms, nearly crushing you under the weight of him. He held you close and rutted like a ravenous creature, letting out almost inhuman growls as he grabbed your breasts and squeezed. Bending over you, he licked and pinched your nipples; it was almost too rough for you. You winced.

“Sorry darlin’,” he whispered, letting go of your bruised flesh to hold your hips. “You’re so strong, I forget how delicate you really are.” His pace gentled, taking your thighs and folding you over so he could reach a different angle as he took you slower, deeper. He thumbed your clit, watching your eyes roll back as he stroked you. The pleasure kept building and building until it burst, with you screaming his name as you climaxed around him, your walls clenching around his length.

“So perfect.” Arthur crushed you once more, letting your legs wrap around his waist as he took you faster and faster, his breath in your ear, his moans like sweet music until he shouted your name as he thrust hard all of a sudden and stayed as deep as he could, his hips making little jerky movements as he pumped his seed inside of you.

“Mine,” he breathed, holding you tight as the last of his ecstasy ebbed away. You clung to him, a happy fog surrounding you as the euphoria gave way to a feeling of contentment, like you had finally found your home. 

Finally, he rolled over and cuddled you. Half-asleep, he nuzzled your cheek.

“I hope we have a son,” he mumbled as he fell asleep beside you.

***

“I liked that chemise.”

“I said I’d buy you a new one.”

“Yes, but I liked that one.”

Arthur got up on one elbow to look directly at you. “You ever goin’ ta forgive me?”

You turned your head and gave him a gimlet stare. “You’re the kind of person to ask for forgiveness rather than permission, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t git anythin’ done otherwise.”

You laughed, thoroughly amused by him. “Mr. Morgan, whatever will I do with you?”

He tenderly smiled at you. “I dunno, Mrs. Morgan.” He kissed you lightly on the lips, a sweet, innocent kiss born out of a moment of pure love. “But I’ll spend forever makin’ it up to you.”

--------------------

End Notes: I had to watch 4 episodes of Queer Eye to get all the happy feels inside of my soul to write this. You’re welcome.

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Come Into the Water (11/15)

The next morning, after helping Olivia cut more apples and make more dough, Sarah returns to the beach. She’s still fully dressed in protection against the cold, and in her arms, she holds Ava’s coat. It’s like a child’s favorite blanket, a soother, something which calms her to cling to. When she comes to the tidepools, Ava arrives as if on cue and smiles at her with the most beautiful, heart-stopping smile that makes Sarah’s heart skip a beat. Then she sees the coat and it disappears.

“Where did you get that?” she asks, crossing her arms, the water around her frothing as her tail undoubtedly lashes back and forth in the waves. 

“Olivia and Maggie had it,” she answers. “We were up on the dunes last night. Did you see the light?”

Ava’s eyes narrow and she looks like she’s about to say something, but then she comes closer to the shore, as close as she can get before her tail is no longer submerged. There’s a long set of scratches across her torso, from her right shoulder to her left hip. Ocean water washed the blood away, but they’re clearly deep, and they hadn’t been there yesterday. She inhales sharply, but that isn’t the point, she realizes as Ava reaches out and takes the coat from Sarah. In the blink of an eye, she wraps it around herself and it fits her perfectly, protects her from view but not disguising the shape of her body. It’s tighter on her than Sarah’s clothes are on her own body. The scratches are faintly visible through the tight mesh weaving.

“I know they do it to help,” Ava says quietly, her voice almost lost in the gurgling seafoam. “But the makos don’t like the smoke or the night light, and everyone knows it’s because of me.”

For a moment Sarah doesn’t get it, but then it turns her blood to ice. “They hurt you because we lit the candles out there.”

Although Ava doesn’t answer, there’s no confusion as to exactly what happened. And it hurts because Sarah only wanted her to feel loved, knows Maggie and Olivia and Noah want the same. She can’t forget the way it made her feel to be a part of that and to see the light, physically and metaphorically, shining out as a beacon to the world.

“Do they do that every year?”

“Since they started lighting it there,” Ava replies. “When they lit it down here, with me, no one saw and it was safe.”

Sarah doesn’t think before she speaks. “I can ask them to come here instead, so you won’t get hurt. And you can still come and enjoy it. They really miss you.”

“They replaced me,” Ava says with finality, and the conversation is over. 

At the very least, however, she stays and allows Sarah to come sit in the sand with her as the water strikes her back. Ava is cold like the weather, but it makes her chest feel warm to be held and to feel lips skimming over the crown of her head affectionately. She wants to be kissed, really kissed, like before, except she doesn’t have any clue how to ask. So she enjoys the affection she’s given and watches the sunlight reflect off the water and Ava’s beautiful scales, the coat floating in the water around them like jellyfish tentacles and glitter. 

The clouds, heavy, begin to open up above them and, in the first flurries of snow, Sarah stands up. She should go home, put on dry, warm clothes. Ava reaches for her, though, curls hands around the backs of her legs and kisses her stomach while looking up at her. 

“Maybe, if you do it down here, I’ll watch. No promises.”

Sarah bends down and kisses Ava’s forehead, and then she leaves, all too eager to tell Maggie and Olivia the good news. She shivers as she walks, as she lets herself in her front door and starts her shower with hot water so she may warm up before bothering to change into warm clothes. It’s early afternoon, although light is low with the lack of sun and the cloud of snow crushing the air. It’ll put out the candles, and the idea of Ava coming to see them and no one being there aches. 

She can’t get it out of her mind as she goes next door to shape the pretzels while Olivia braids dough and Maggie fries apples. She gets Noah’s coat (and gloves) for him. As they step outside, she says two things.

“We can’t light it on the dunes,” she says first. Second, she asks, “How do we protect the candles from the snow?”

“I’ve got an umbrella,” Maggie says. 

“Why not?” Olivia asks, her voice thick with frustration.

Sarah looks toward the beach, a shorter walk than their hike last night. “When you light it up there, the pod can see and they don’t like it, so they hurt Ava. She asked us to do it down at the tidepools, like you used to. And she said no promises, but she might join us.”

Olivia and Maggie share a look rife with pain and a million memories Sarah isn’t a part of. They come to some conclusion between them, and suddenly all the things they’re holding are on the ground, and Sarah is crushed between them, their arms around her and she’s suffocating, almost, but it doesn’t hurt. She can hear Olivia crying, feel Noah tugging her pant leg for attention, smell the cinnamon on Maggie’s skin. They’re family.

“Let’s go down there, then,” Olivia says, and instead of going to the car, they set towards the tapering cliff Sarah navigates most mornings. Usually she goes by feel, barefoot, but in her warm boots she finds herself sliding more than usual. Noah sits down and works his way slowly by scooting on his butt, Maggie moves with patience and care, and Olivia slips twice but thankfully doesn’t get hurt in her rush to reach the bottom. She gets there first, accompanied by the umbrella Maggie simply dropped to the bottom, and spreads the blanket before sheltering it from the wind and snow with care. By the time the rest of them get there, it’s a sheltered place to sit and Maggie lays out the menorah carefully, reaching for more candles. Two go in this time, and then the lighting candle, which she palms as they stare out at the darkening horizon. Sarah feels strange, just sitting here, and goes to the shallow lappings at the edge of the tide, searching for Ava.

“We came here for you,” she calls, her voice sweeping away with the wind. “You can come out, Ava. We made fried apples, and Olivia said they were your favorite…”

Nothing comes back to her from the waves. No faces rise from the water. She doesn’t want to cry but she thinks she might, and her hand comes up to her forearm and she tries to dig in her nails but can’t through her thick coat. She’d take it off if she could right now.

“Ava, please?”

After a minute of silence, Olivia comes and guides her to sit back down. There’s disappointment on her face, but also resignation, like she expected this anyways. She offers Sarah a smile, and takes her hand to squeeze in reassurance. Her voice shakes slightly as she recites the same blessing as last night. Then Maggie repeats about half of what she said last night as well, and strikes a match. She lights the extra candle and helps Noah move to light the other two, starting at the one towards the center. Then, once the lighting candle sits in the middle, Olivia starts pulling out the food. Sarah takes a fried apple and can’t bring herself to eat it because all she can think about is that Ava would want it.

Maggie seems about to say something, but then the waves make a loud sound and they all look to see Ava in the shallows, wrapped in her coat, watching them in silence, She seems startled to be noticed and turns to leave, but Sarah hurries to her and offers the slice of fried apple. Ava takes her arm by the wrist and steadies it, leaning forward and taking the end between her teeth before leaning away. She eats it slowly and her tail swishes under the water.

Then Olivia and Maggie are beside her, each holding another piece and it’s clear even in the low light that they’re teary eyed. They offer to her as well and Ava takes them and eats, and her face has turned soft and scrunched as well, although she may not be physically capable of crying.

“We’ve missed you so much,” Olivia says, kneeling in the surf with no regard and wrapping her arms around Ava. Maggie does as well. “We would never replace you. We love you so much, and we’re so, so, so thankful you’re here.”

Maggie keeps kissing the side of Ava’s head almost frantically, stroking her hair and just holding her like she’s a young child and not around Sarah’s age. They both cling to her and holds her and they look like this is the best moment of their lives. And Ava, she’s actually smiling so wide her face might split in half.

Sarah gives them a moment and goes back to Noah, who watches mindlessly as he eats a pretzel. He’s a fiend for them, and will eat the dough if given the chance. He reaches up to brush snow off Sarah’s hair and smiles at her, offers her a bite. She declines the slobbery pretzel, but takes another fried apple and lets it all but melt in her mouth as the three women cling to each other in the water. 

After a few minutes, they come closer and help Ava come further up the shore to nestle in against the edge of their blanket. She seems happy when she reaches for Sarah’s hand and laces their fingers together tightly, rests her wet hair against Sarah’s shoulder. They keep eating until everything is gone, and then Maggie gets their flat surface, Olivia opens the chocolate coins, and Noah produces the three dreidels from last night. Before Sarah can ask, Maggie digs into her backpack and produces two more dreidels- one blue and old and sand-weathered, the other plastic and brand new. 

“I brought Ava’s, just in case, and I got one for you, Sarah. I know it’s not super nice, but I thought you’d want one.”

Sarah accepts the shiny plastic and rubs her thumbs over the stickers on each side. It’s something small, but it makes her throat tighten and her nose burn again. She chokes out a thanks as Olivia gives her a handful of coins to play the game with.

She still needs guidance, but she understands better than last time and everyone just dissolves into eating the chocolates and laughing as the menorah burns facing the ocean, feeling the togetherness. Before long, Noah is falling asleep, and Ava’s breathing becomes labored enough that Sarah helps Olivia take her back to the water. They say their goodbyes and Ava promises to come back tomorrow.

When Sarah kisses her, she tastes like chocolate and fried apples and the ocean, and Sarah gets this image of a life spent just sunning on the rocks and swimming with Ava and never worrying about making it to therapy or the box still unpacked in her living room or the fact that she practically living with Maggie and Olivia anyways.

But it’s only a flash and then they’re making their way back up, Sarah taking supplies up so Olivia can carry the menorah and Maggie can carry Noah as they make their way back up the cliffside. 

[bazwillendinflames]

Day 4 of Norkus November by @markusandnorth 

Touch or Kiss 

Read on ao3

North (Aged 11) 

Leo gives North’s ratty clothes a long look before he lets her in the house. It’s a big house, too big for only three people, and a stark difference to the foster home on the other side of town where she lives. Still, it's like a second home by now and she knows that if Markus or Carl had answered the door, she would be allowed in, dirt included. 

“Take off your shoes,” he tells her, “and don’t sit on anything white.”

She kicks off her boots and scowls at him. “Can I see Markus yet?”

“He’s outside,” Leo answers. He looks especially grumpy today but North doesn’t actually care why. He isn’t the Manfred brother she came for.

Markus is outside, with his school books spread around him. 

She sneaks closer and closer and tackles him from behind. Even if she had taken him by surprise initially, Markus was quick to respond and they rolled around in the neat grass until she was sat on top of him.

“You cheated.”

“Really?” she teases, “tough.”

North slides off him and watches as Markus shuffles into a more comfortable position.

“You didn’t tell me that you were coming.”

She picks blades of grass and rubs it between her fingers. “I left my phone at home.”

“Did Leo answer the door?”

“Yep.”

“Was his nice?”

“Never.” North picks at the lawn some more.

“Want to go play in the treehouse?” Markus asks, “we could paint a flag for Jericho.”

“Maybe we could just talk there.”

He frowns but stays quiet. Usually it was North who suggested they played Jericho - a game involving pirates, ships and sword fights - the unladylike things she enjoyed.

The treehouse had stood there since before Markus was born, it was Leo’s originally, but at fifteen, he decided he was too old for such childhood games and left it to his half-brother.

They sit on an old sofa - old by the Manfred’s standards that is, meaning nice and squishy. Still, North fidgets uncomfortably.

“Something’s wrong.”

“We’re getting moved again,” North tells him, “Kara’s starting high school now and we need to be close. I can’t be separated from her. My sister is all I have.”

“Where to?”

“Somewhere far away. We- we won’t go to the same school anymore.” North’s grits her teeth together. “I guess you’ll find a new friend. Whatever.”

Markus shakes his head. “I won’t just replace you like that. You know that, North.”

“Everyone moves on,” she replies bitterly, “even you.”

“Look at me,” he says, “I won’t forget you.”

“Why not?”

“You’re unforgettable. Besides, there’s not many people called ‘North’. There’s not many people like you at all.”

“Dork.” She pulls her friend into a hug. North pulls out of his arms but Markus hangs onto her a moment longer. Then, so quick she almost misses it, he presses a kiss to her palm.

He’s darting away, before she can catch the blush on his tan cheeks, back out to the lawn.

North closes her hand around the invisible gift in her hand and smiles.

She follow, shouting along with him.

   North (aged 13)

North’s always been the fastest one, ever since they first met, but now Markus has had a growth spurt, he seems to finally have the advantage. Her hand’s numb from the snowball, her gloves and beanie abandoned in the masses of white in the yard. He darts away as she flings it at his head. 

“I’m going to get you, Manfred!” she yells.

He ducks as the next snowball hits the tree and narrowly misses his head.

“Nice try but-“ a different snowball hits his ear from above, “Hey, Kara!”

The older Archer sister laughs. “I’ve always been the best at throwing.”

“That’s cheating-“ Markus protests, as the two sisters surround him, “truce?”

“No way!” North smears snow on his head and laughs, “not so fast now, are you Markus?”

He hums and then picks her up, chucking North over his shoulder and running round the garden.

Kara leans against the tree, smirking at their antics. Carl wheels out to join her a few minutes later, watching as his son had snow stuffed down the back of his shirt.

“When will they realise?”

“One day,” he answers, chuckling.

  By the time they’re finished in the snow, both Markus and North were shivering with wet clothes. Kara’s impressive smothering meant they both had dry clothes in their arms before they had time to take off their soaked coats or kick off their icy shoes. 

“If you get a cold, Rose will never let you out until summer.”

“These aren’t my clothes.”

“Go get changed,” Kara says, ushering her upstairs, “go, go!”

The clothes belonged to Markus, pre-growth spurt, and she felt oddly vulnerable in the baggy shirt. It was nicer than what she was used to.

It smells a little bit like Markus, like the expensive scented washing powder, like his hugs.

North brings the soft material to her face and buried her face in it. She rubs the soft material over her lips.

“What are you doing?” Kara asks.

“Nothing, getting changed, nothing.” North crosses her arms.

“Okay,” Kara giggles, “Markus offered to make you some hot chocolate. But if you’re busy-“

North blushes and pushes past her older sister. “I’m not busy. Just cold.”

“Don’t worry I won’t tell him.”

She freezes: “tell him what?”

Kara smiles, the picture of innocence. “Nothing.”

   North (aged 15)

Their spot is empty, because the buses don’t run this late, and it’s raining. North’s shivering in the cold when Markus catches up on her.

He’s holding an umbrella and wearing a heavy coat and scarf. Markus takes in her ragged appearance and red eyes, that the darkness didn’t quite hide.

He says nothing about that. Instead:

“Need a hand?”

“Yeah,” she accepts.

Markus pulls himself up onto the bus shelter with impressive strength and then offers her a hand.

When they’re both sat on the top, he pulls off the scarf and drapes it around her neck. He shuffled closer so the umbrella protects her too.

“You should have brought a coat.”

North wraps her arms around herself. “Wasn’t raining when I left Rose’s.”

Markus shuffles closer and North suspects he’s trying to radiant heat between them. She rests her head on his shoulder.

“Tell me.”

“Kara’s going to college in Indiana.” North stares off into the heavy rain. “To be a teacher.”

Markus bites his lip. “You knew that’s what she wanted.”

“I can’t get moved to a home there,” North snaps, “I can’t get moved at all. Foster home shortages. I’ll be all alone without her.”

“You’ve got me.”

North laughs, a little too harshly, “Yeah. Right. If my own sister is willing to leave me-“

“North-“ Markus protests, “Kara will come back.”

“You’re smart Markus, you’ll go on to do great things. You’ll leave me behind.”

“There’s no where I could go without you,” he promises.

“Don’t let me slow you down.”

“North, don’t do this.”

“Do what?” she snaps back, looking vicious.

“Shut down. We’re friends. You’ll have to trust me. I’m your-“ He hesitates, “your best friend. So, when I say I won’t leave you, I mean it.”

He always had such a way with words. North kicked the top of the bus shelter with the chunky heel of her boot.

“Kara is still leaving,” she mutters, not quite calm yet.

“It’s probably as hard for her as you,” Markus reminds her gently, “she’s acted like a mother to you.”

“Everyone leaves.”

“Not me,” Markus repeats, “Not to you, not ever.”

(If it’s a big promise for a best friend they don’t mention it. They’re fifteen. Everything feels so permanent for them.)

North unfolds her arms.

“Pinky promise?”

She smirks. “Is that they teach you in private school now?”

He holds out his hand. “North.”

She sighs and interlocks their fingers and repeats, slightly bitterly: “pinky promise.”

“Want to go and play some video games at my house?”

“Violent ones?” North asks, slightly more perked up at the prospect of blowing up some zombies.

“If you call Kara and tell her your safe.”

“Boring.” She catches sight of his serious expression and sighs. “Yes. Fine.”

“North, I-“ he stops, “let’s go.”

“Okay?”

They hop off the top of the shelter and walk home, shoulders pressed together as they shared the umbrella.

(It had stopped raining.)

   North (aged 17)

“This is stuffy,” North complains, pulling on itchy lace sleeves.

Art gallery openings sounded fun but now she was starting to get why Carl usually didn’t go. It was boring. And the long black dress Markus insisted on buying her was stunning but getting a little unwanted attention.

“Once the speech is over we get food.”

“How long is the speech?”

“Too long,” Carl answers from in front of them. “Least they’re not making me do one.”

“There’s a reason you’re not allowed to do speeches Dad.”

Carl winks at her. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Hey,” Markus whispers, “want to sneak off? I’ll show you Dad’s painting.”

“I’m way ahead of you.” She holds up the dress to show her beaten up boots underneath.

“This is why you’re my favourite person.”

Favourite person. She likes the sound of that.

They weave through the crowd and slip out a back door. It feels childish, with all the laughing and shoving each other. But moments like this are rare, with the fancy art school Markus attends become so far away.

They chase each other up the stairs and into the gallery itself. It’s beautiful, with more space than all of the bedrooms at Rose’s put together. It’s painted gold and dark blue, like a palace, with big glass windows.

North stands at it and looks out at the view of Detroit. It’s so much prettier away from the grim details or grey streets.

“Impressed?”

“Yeah.”

It’s another reminder that they’re from different worlds. Markus from one full of beauty and gold. North from the rougher part of town.

“Come on,” he pulls on her arm, “you’ll want to see Dad’s. It’s really good.”

Carl’s artwork is in the centre of the room, taking up half a wall by itself. It’s painted a hundred shades of blue and shows a face, eyes half closed, that’s twisted into a smile.

“It’s great.”

“I know,” Markus says. His hand is still on her wrist and he lets it drop into hers. “See the right eye? I painted it.”

She pushes herself up onto her tiptoes to see better.

“Look at you,” she teases, “already in the gallery.”

He smiles sheepishly. “It’s why I wanted you to come.”

“I’m glad I did.”

Markus swallows nervously. “Whilst we’re alone, there’s something I wanted to ask.”

“So-“

He looks at their hands, still pressing together. “North I-“ he stops again, “it’s hard to say.”

“Says the captain of the debate team.”

Markus doesn’t smile like she expects. He looks uncomfortable, almost like the painting behind them.

“I think that-“

“You can’t be in here!” A woman calls, stepping into the gallery. She sighs. “Markus? Again?”

He drops her hand and turns his attention to the blond woman. “Sorry Chloe. I was just showing North Dad’s painting.”

She smiles pleasantly. It’s kind of creepy, almost robotic. “You should head back out. The speeches are about to finish.”

Meaning: people are coming.

“Thanks for the warning.”

Chloe laughs. “The amount of warnings I’ve given you over the years is impressive.”

North follows her out, so busy trying to place her face (Chloe Kamski, she realises later, gallery curator and Markus’ Godmother), that she misses the longing look on her friends face as she walks away.

   & Markus (aged 19)

They’re getting a bit too big to fit in the treehouse, but if they sit with their legs overlapping they can fit. Markus is squished next to her, but he doesn’t mind.

For North, he never minds much. In fact, he likes how they’re so close.

He will tell today, he promises himself. Still, Markus is feeling a little shaken up already.

“Feels weird being back,” she says, “and I mean that literally because I think there’s a splinter in my leg.”

“I’m going to miss home.”

North leans against his shoulder. “I’ll come drag you back from DC soon enough.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Markus adds, although more quietly.

She hears it. (For once. How many hushed confessions had she missed?) “We’re already getting sappy over it?”

“Am I not allowed to miss you?”

“You are,” she replies, “but shouldn’t it be the other way round? I should be missing you whilst you do irresponsible things and forgetting your little hometown friends.”

He’s about to protest about how he couldn’t forget her, but then Markus catches the smirk on North’s face.

“Maybe I’ll even break a few laws whilst I’m there. Go really wild.”

“Hell yeah,” North agrees, “I’ve been carrying the wild side of our friendship for the last ten years.”

Friendship.

“Teach me your wicked ways.”

“If you haven’t worked them out yet, you’re a slow learner.”

Markus tickles her and she laughs, trying to edge away.

“Hey, I take it back. That was a dirty move.”

“Thanks.”

North chuckles. “Listen, if you don’t call me when you land, there will be trouble.”

“I won’t forget.” Markus holds up a hand, “can you just listen for a moment. I’m about to fly four hundred miles away tomorrow. But first- I need to tell you something.”

“Markus, you’re doing the dramatic speech thing again.”

“I love you.” He closes his eyes. “I look at you and I know you’re the one. It’s not fair for me to go to DC without telling you first. So, there. I love you.”

“Markus, what the fu-“ North pauses, “why? What? When?”

She hasn’t run off.

“You’re-“ he doesn’t want to say beautiful. She’s more than just that, “you’re passionate about everything. You’re kind and bold and brave. I trust you and admire you. And one day I’m looking at you sitting on the top of the bus shelter and I think: oh, it’s you.”

“You didn’t call me pretty.”

“It’s not the most important thing.”

She moves and Markus thinks he’s lost his chance.

Better to know…

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Markus,” she warns, putting her hand on his face and blocking his vision.

“Why are you-“

North cuts him off with a soft kiss, the hand over his eyes trailing down to hold his cheek, her other hand in his.

She leaves him breathless.

“Love you too idiot.”

   (The next day she waves him off as he takes a flight to art college in DC.

She visits a month later.

And the month after that.

He thinks life can’t get any better.

He thinks she’s amazing.

North is just happy to be in his arms.)

[cosmiclatte28]

Autumn in my heart (krisbaek) (chanbaek)

One shot - angst/fluff

Krisbaek -chanbaek

Warning : mentions of kris wu, will bring you back memories of our best "chicken nae style anya" brother 🤧🤧

(Posted on wattpad before, so yeah this is my original work)

Enjoy

The picturesque scene of red and orange trees cannot fool the dull and somber race of falling leaves pulled by the gravity. Be honest, autumn is depressing. See the falling leaves, dying every time a gush of cold wind tingles. Baekhyun hates seeing the piles of dead leaves on the ground, he feels like the trees are selfish that they let the leaves die in order to survive.

The clock strikes six when Baekhyun has put on his tailor fitted Pea coat from Schott's. Tonight, his favorite fragrance from Clean accompanies him. He inhales his favorite floral woody musk mixed with a slight hint of fresh soap and gets himself ready as his smart watch rings with a caller ID he loves dearly. His lover has rung him up saying he is downstairs waiting for him to take his time. Baekhyun makes his last tuck on his Pea coat and he pockets his phone as he slipped his feet to his leather boots and Baekhyun makes sure to kiss his corgi good bye before keeping the key in his pocket and slightly run to meet the waiting prince; his waiting prince!

The elevator ride almost killed Baekhyun; he frowns whenever the door opens and what greets him are the foreign faces of his neighbor from other floors; after pressing the close button five more times, Baekhyun finally reaches his destination. With his crescent eyes he scans the whole room and finds his prince in no time. His fashion and his tall body make him easy to spot.

"Kris! I'm here, let's go!" Baekhyun clings into the taller man's arm and giddily drags him out of the warm lobby. The early cold wind harshly welcomes them outside; Kris clears his throat and pulls the brunette closer. He takes in his small hand, holds it firm in his big hand, and pops it nicely into his toasty pocket of his Burberry trench coat. "It's starting to get cold," Kris smiles.

Baekhyun blushes, even when Kris had done this for three consecutive autumns, his heart will always beat like it was his first time. He did nothing though and just follow his long legs that bring them to a place Baekhyun knows a bit too much.

"Usual place Kris?"

The tall blonde man nods and after walking through the busy streets, they found themselves in a restaurant district. Baekhyun's stomach growls when the delicious smell of his favorite food can be smelled from a meter. They sit down on their usual chairs, place the same ordinary menu; a Hawaiian pizza slice for Baekhyun and a Pepperoni for Kris. Though Kris never agrees that pineapple goes with pizza, he never speaks his opinion out loud to Baekhyun, he just can't. Try and say that to a man who really enjoys it and do you dare see his heart breaks? No Kris doesn't want to break his heart; it's the last thing he wanted to do to Baekhyun.

Dinner is amazing. Over two slices of giant pizza and soda, they exchange stories, laugh over new jokes, and secretly treasure this sweet moment. They end their pizza date with a split bill and with the warmth of a full stomach. The two men make their way out of the bright, fragrance road and move to another crowded and romantic district.

Baekhyun told Kris about a new milkshake shop opening in here in Gangnam, and Kris will do everything that brings a smile to Baekhyun's face. With Baekhyun standing close by his side, Kris naturally slides his arm to hug Baekhyun's slim waist from the side as he reads the menu in the TV from the queuing line.

The café is full of sweet couples, the atmosphere here is so warm and comfortable, Kris knows this will 99% become their favorite hangout place.

"We're so sorry, but we sold the second last cup already... We only have one left for the special house favorite's chocolate," the man with a name tag reading Yixing, smiles apologetically to the two sweet couple across him.

Baekhyun runs his eyes to the TV screen to look for another substitute, but Kris was faster.

"No problem, an extra straw will do. How much for the last cup?" Kris hands Yixing his card and swipes the bill.

Baekhyun squeals deep inside his heart, how Kris could always do a new sweet action every time they go out?!

"You sure don't want anything else?" Baekhyun asks when Kris lets go off his straw after a good five sips.

Kris shakes his head and raises his thumb to wipe a trace of chocolate from Baekhyun's lips, "No, you can have them all. It tastes good and I know you like them so much." Kris kisses his thumb and cleans the chocolate from Baekhyun's lips.

Baekhyun playfully punches Kris, "What's into you?! Why are you suddenly this sweet!"

Kris laughs it off and rolls his eyes, "Because I am a nice boyfriend? Come on admit it—" Baekhyun shuts him off with a quick peck "—I'm going to have heart attack Baek, if you are making that a habit."

After making a loud sip to ensure he leaves nothing on the bottom of the glass, Baekhyun and Kris step their foot out of the lovely café. They freeze when they see people carrying umbrellas and celebrating something.

"The first snow!" Both men choir and giggle upon welcoming the cold winter!

Baekhyun reaches for a folded umbrella he had brought in his pocket and this time takes the lead to pull the giant closer and tries his best to raise the umbrella to his height. Kris cannot oppress his gummy smile and allows Baekhyun do his thing.

"I am not taking care of a sick giant again, that's why I read the weather forecast earlier and they predicted the first snow the fall. Turns out they were accurate this year, come Kris let's walk under the first snow!" Baekhyun sneakily places his hand into Kris' coat and the taller simply holds his hand.

They have fun for a moment under the first snow, took some pictures and updated their social media platforms.

"The snow is falling harder, shall we head home?" Kris worries for their health. The two men are responsible for their working days, falling sick is something they can't afford.

Baekhyun does not refuse; along their careful steps on the slippery grounds the two men don't stop talking at all. They will find new topics whenever they seem to come to an end. Tonight is a good date night. Their date night ends with Kris ushering Baekhyun back to his Apartment room.

"Good bye Kris, thank you for tonight!" Baekhyun shakes his wet umbrella.

"No problem Baek, I'll be going now,"

"Wait—" Baekhyun runs to his room and returns not long after it, he gets on his tip of toes and wraps a warm red scarf over Kris "—take that with you, it's my winter present. Stay safe okay and call me when you got home." Baekhyun buries his face on his chest as he hugs him tight.

"Thanks honey, Good night." Kris steps back and waves his hand.

Baekhyun wiggles his hand in panic, "Oh take the umbrella! And please just grab a taxi!" Baekhyun pushes his umbrella to Kris' hand.

Kris chuckles and tousles Baekhyun's soft hairs, "Yes sir! I can take care of myself—" Kris winks and Baekhyun rolls his eyes. The tall blonde makes his stealing move and kiss the plump lips of Baekhyun before finally going back home.

__

Sun rises and sets, moon shines and hides, the world rotates and time runs. Their love for each other blooms, although their relationship has ups and downs, the two can overcome the big waves and sail their ship to another calm ocean. A calm sea will never make a skillful sailor, and one day the biggest wave crashes to their ship, and Baekhyun feels like he is forcefully drowned into the dark deep grief of heart breaks.

The road is crowded, well at least there are cars speeding in the road, and his sparkly eyes are fixed on a "sweet" scene in front of him. Yeah sweet if the people you saw were someone you did not know, or your best friend; but seriously not sweet if it's your boyfriend you saw over the road holding hands with another pretty boy, wrapped in an expensive suit looking all lovey dovey with your man. Maybe Kris did not know or see Baekhyun on the other side of the road, but Baekhyun cannot mistake that man as someone else. His eyes turn red; Baekhyun fetches his phone and takes the speed dial to call Kris. He waits for a moment with his eyes fixed on the two men across him.

The pedestrian traffic turns green, and Baekhyun sees the two of them walking to cross the road. He quickly hides himself in an old payphone box while still listening to the waiting tone and keeping an eye on Kris. When Kris made it with the sweet smiling guy to the same street as Baekhyun's he swears his call just was sent to voicemail. Kris also presses his screen earlier, hufth he didn't even hesitate to reject his call. Insteaad, Kris looks so happy walking with this new man. His jealousy and suspicion completely take over him, he leans over the small phone box and stares at his screen emptily.

"Sorry, busy can't pick up your call." Kris' message appears in his notification bar.

Baekhyun swallows the lump stuck in his throat; disappointed and angry the lonely man runs back to his apartment. He was planning to buy dinner and surprises Kris in his office for working overtime. If his vocabulary for overtime means having a walk with another man, heol Baekhyun won't bother coming to see him.

Baekhyun locks himself in his room and cries his heart out, his stomach grumbles, but his heart aches more. Baekhyun ignores all of the calls and messages in his phone. Thirty minutes later he wipes his eyes and after ensuring his heart he needs to do this: Baekhyun texts a number.

"Soo, you're right... I'm coming to the dinner tomorrow. What's his name again?"

This time Baekhyun regrets not listening to his friends when they warned him about his boyfriend playing fire behind his back. Baekhyun is too naïve and blunt to realize Kris has slowly changed. He was not as sweet as he used to, he got busy, and he rarely picked his calls. At first Baekhyun simply forgive him; thinking he must be busy with his works, turns out Baekhyun is living blindly.

The tall blonde man enters his apartment and paces his room nervously while sticking his phone to his ear. He bites his lips when the line beeps but no one seems to answer the call.

"Pick up. Pick up Baek.... Please... I'm worried sick..." Kris ends the waiting and jumps to the message room. He sends more messages asking if Baekhyun is okay, why is he not picking up calls, and why is he not reading his messages.

Kris feels guilty rejecting Baekhyun's call earlier, but he cannot pick the call there when he thinks his coworker has a big crush and is flirting with him. Kris cannot bring himself to answer the call and crushes the cute man's dream. Yes, Suho, his co-worker is lately clinging on his side, and Kris cannot lie and say he's unattractive. Suho is a calm and nice man, good with works, and Kris finds it hard to keep his heart stable when he's around.

Kris thought he saved Suho from crying in the streets, when in reality his real boyfriend is the one crying on the busy streets... by himself. Poor Kris doesn't know this.

__

The next morning, Baekhyun did not bat an eye nor reply any of his messages. He muted his number and prepares for work. As he sprays his perfume, the front door beeps open and a tall man he used to love, but now hates, shows up with a bouquet of yellow flowers on his hand.

"Good morning sunshine! What's with the cloudy face?" Kris extends his hand to give Baekhyun the arrangement.

Baekhyun looks at his sickening handsome smile and walks to take his working bag. "Nothing. I'm tired of work and this life full of lies."

Kris frowns, "What do you mean?"

Baekhyun just hums an "I don't know" tone and occupies himself with packing his lunch and laptop.

Kris walks to the kitchen table and picks Baekhyun's phone, he scrolls through the notifications and shakes his head, "WOW! You haven't open my text, not a single one! Why?" he sounds confused.

Baekhyun is the type to have his phone on his nose almost every second, what's with leaving Kris unread?

Baekhyun snatches his phone, "I fell asleep earlier yesterday after you said I shouldn't come and have dinner with you, since you're taking overtime."

Kris sighs, "Come on Baek, you're acting like this just because I denied your offer to eat dinner together?" Baekhyun walks away.

"Don't act so childish. We can always have dinner together tonight or other nights." Kris snaps.

Baekhyun keeps his cold face on; he takes his lunch and working bag, and slips into his shoes. Kris shadows him all over the place.

"Really? Then why did you cancel it yesterday?" He wears his shoes and holds on to the door knob.

"I had a sudden meeting." Kris lies quickly.

"Oh so now you call walking with another man without companion, while acting lovely is your definition of meeting. To me I call that a secret date mister!" Baekhyun stomps his foot, "Now go! Leave! I am tired of your lies!!" Baekhyun exits the room, but Kris holds a grip of his hand.

"but..." Kris is cut off by Baekhyun's loud voice, "For your information Kris, I saw you with my own eyes walking with a man and rejecting my call." Baekhyun raises his tone and his face turns red. He breaks his hand free and rushes to the parking lot.

Kris runs after Baekhyun, but luck must've left him today for the lift closes before he can reach him. Baekhyun is clearly mad and fed up, for he is not trying to do anything to clean up the misunderstanding.

Their day goes on differently, Baekhyun is still absorbed in his sadness and pain, while Kris... Kris thinks today's problem will end like any others. His day is smooth and the man from yesterday even offers him coffee. Upon seeing Kris busy checking his phone; waiting for someone to call or chat; Suho asks him, "What's bothering you?"

Kris thinks for a while, should he tell Suho what actually happened, but what if things get more dark and dangerous? After some consideration, Kris decides to use the help chance. He told Suho what happened yesterday and earlier this morning. Suho just laughs and comes up with a solution, "I can help you clarify this... Give me his number, I'll talk to him."

Kris denies that idea at first, but after some more convincing words from Suho, he gave up Baekhyun's phone number to Suho. He thought maybe Baek would listen to Suho.

Sure, Suho's idea was not completely wrong, Baekhyun answers his call in a friendly manner and he did not blame Suho for anything. Baekhyun listened to all of Suho's kind and sincere explanation, but his heart still cannot easily forgive Kris for doing it.

__

Baekhyun dresses up nicely in his bomber jacket, and puts on his cap to hide his puffy eyes. He takes his steps to greet his date tonight, the man Kyungsoo told him about. Park Chanyeol, son of the CEO of Eve's corporation: Korea's first leading group in food supply, while Kris is the son of the second leading group.

To put it into words, Chanyeol is a man of daydream. He is everything you expected when meeting a living prince charming. He talks in his deep voice, his choice of words are amazing, his fashion taste is casual yet daydreaming, his manners are polished as perfect as one can be, but no matter how nice and perfect Chanyeol is, his heart cannot stop comparing him to Kris. Kris is not as perfect as him, Kris is more of the clumsy type and silly. However one thing for sure, Baekhyun likes Chanyeol's jokes better than Kris'

His choice of place for a first meeting is way beyond expectation. Baekhyun would have dressed up properly if he knew Chanyeol is bringing him to a secluded private restaurant. Baekhyun seals his mouth tightly about this date, yet Kris knows.

He comes home with a bright smiling face, Chanyeol had just dropped him off from his Mercedes-Benz G65. Baekhyun secretly smiles to himself and wraps his jacket tighter as he enters the lift to reach his house. He can't stop humming small tunes while taking his light steps.

With a big surprised face, Baekhyun takes a step back when Kris greets him in his stern voice.

"Why are you here?" the shorter man sounds annoyed. His mood totally jumped from hype to down.

Kris raises his brow, "Am I not allowed to visit my lover? Beside I came here to check if he's here yet, since he ignored my calls and texts." Baekhyun makes his way to the kitchen and fills himself a glass of water, "Well, sorry but I have someone to see tonight," Baekhyun shrugs his shoulder.

Kris joins him to the small kitchen, "Yeah and I just found out my boy, without my acknowledge, went to meet another man and came home—" he glances at his watch, "—late, my boy came home pretty late. It's 10!"

Baekhyun finishes his glass of water, and slams his cup a bit too hard, "So what? I'm big enough to come home whenever I want and I can take care of myself."

"Who's that man? How are you sure he is someone good?" Kris elevates his tone.

Baekhyun takes a deep breath and speaks out loud clearly, "it's none of your business! Even I did not know who the man you're with yesterday was and I did not ask you anything! I did not interrogate you Kris Wu!" Baekhyun spits those words in one breath, he tosses his jacket then locks himself in his room. Kris knocks on his door relentlessly and all he gets is silence.

Silence from the loudest man is the scariest thing

Baekhyun wakes up with heavy head, puffy blood shot eyes, and a runny nose. He forces himself to leave his bed and calls in for a day off today. He has called Chanyeol last night and told the new man everything, something in his heart screams that Chanyeol can help and Chanyeol will not hurt him like Kris did. With his beloved corgi walking beside him, Baekhyun opens his door and freezes when he sees Kris sleeping uncomfortably on the floor.

"Babo-ya," Baekhyun scoffs in his mind and leaves the tall giant on the floor. He makes himself a glass of tea and gulps an aspirin down his dry throat. He takes his time writing a short note and sticks it on Kris' free arm. He bends to place a soft kiss on his temple, probably his last, and Baekhyun secretly leaves.

Kris wakes up from the pain his back screams for sleeping on the floor, he yawns and stretches then looks around and realizes he had fallen asleep when begging Baekhyun to open the door. He sees the post it on his arm and he quickly reads it. His brow scrunches as the line gets down, and finally they widens and his mouth fell. Kris lost his sense of touch, hearing, and sight... he feels like a thunder just hit him and he's drowned in his emotions. He slowly sits on the sofa, and re-reads the nicely written letter. He makes sure to not miss any single word or get the wrong idea. But no matter how many times he checks the letter again, the words don't change.

"Baekhyun wants us to end it here," Kris speaks to himself, the tall blonde quickly searches the house. Hoping to found the man he was looking for, he needs to discuss this with Baekhyun. Seriously they did not need to break up over a silly matter!

"Baekhyun-ie, what do you mean? We can talk about this... where are you?" Kris puts on his shoes and coat.

"We don't have to discuss anything Kris. We're not meant to be, I realized we're not made for each other. Our parents don't even support this relationship we had for three and a half years. It's over Kris, go get that man and I will go my way." Baekhyun explains as best as he can.

"No, We need to meet. We're not breaking up over phone. I don't consider our relationship over just because you decided it by yourself. We need to meet." Kris grips his phone hard.

"I can't Kris, I'm no longer near you. Bye," Baekhyun said.

Kris hears the faint background sound and damn that man is in the airport, where the hell is he going now without telling him.

Baekhyun turns off his call and sadly stares at his wallpaper. It's a picture of happy Kris and Baekhyun laughing under the mistletoe from their last Christmas.

"Are we ready to go?" Chanyeol's deep voice resonates beside him. Baekhyun groggily nods and copies his steps to the boarding gate. Baekhyun takes one last heavy breath; yes he is leaving Korea and Kris behind. This is what his family wants, this is for the best.

Baekhyun comes from the leading electronic cooperation in Korea; turns out his parents had made an agreement to make Baekhyun and Chanyeol an official pair. Simply said his parents arranged his marriage with Park family for the sake of their business. The Byun family does not have a good history with the Wu family. Both Kris and Baekhyun had been trying their best to keep their boat sailing despite the harsh wind made by their own families, but Baekhyun has had enough. The two used to think if they are together, they can fight their families and live happily ever after, but that's too good to be true.

Now, his family has made a lot of agreements with The Park family, and that explains why Baekhyun is sent to leave Korea with Chanyeol the night when Baek reported Kris' actions. His father used the situation to break them apart, and he partly succeeded. Baekhyun is now seated on the first class flight to Britain, with his future fiancé (That's what his parents insisted).

__

The loving couple separated without a clear ending, Kris still lives his life to the fullest he can, but everything is pointless when Baekhyun is not in his life. He did not date anyone, he still holds on to the belief that Baekhyun is still his boyfriend, and he is still committed to that man he loves.

Suho has tried a lot of things to set Kris up with a new date, but none of them seems to win his heart. Kris only attends the blind dates Suho made, just to respect his kindness and attention. Suho himself has won the heart of the cute guy in the milkshake shop Kris and Baekhyun once visited, Yixing. Suho was close with Kris because he needs help with winning the cute dimple man's heart. The night when Baekhyun went home with Chanyeol, Kris was actually waiting for him to explain everything. Kris wanted to tell Baekhyun that he doesn't have to be jealous of Suho, for Suho has his heart and eyes for another man. Fate did not let him explain anything that night, and the next day Baekhyun was already gone from his life.

Kris changes into a cold and quiet man, while Baekhyun has opened his heart to the new man with him. Baekhyun realizes Chanyeol shares a lot of things in common with him. Knowing the new tall man with elf ears is easy and they get along so well. They spend a good two years in England, and they have to return to Korea when the working contract for Chanyeol ended.

--

Their plane touched down on the land of Korea, where the leaves are starting to fall and the winds getting colder. Baekhyun sighs it's once again autumn, He always hates autumn.

Chanyeol feels for having to check the office and sending Baekhyun home by himself. Baekhyun did not mind, instead he is happy he can have his time alone here.

Baekhyun takes the taxi to a park he missed. A small park with benches for couples to seat and enjoy the falling leaves with the big Han River across them. He breathes in the autumn leaves and slightly smile when he the memories he made here with Kris slowly floods his mind. A small tug is felt in his heart, how is that tall blonde doing? Baekhyun walks and walks then sits at one of the empty benches, his hand traces the old wood and smiles when his eyes caught a small scribble that managed to be intact even when seasons has changed.

He traces the craving and secretly hides his smile when the memory comes back in his mind.

The writing of Kris and Baekhyun in a big heart, deriving from four years ago. He remembered craving their names cheesily on a park bench when the first leaf fell. Baekhyun scoffs when he realizes a lot of things he did with Kris is associated with autumn.

He closes his eyes for a while and finds himself awaken in surprise when a familiar voice greets him,

"Baekyun?" the voice sounds unsure, "Baekhyun?! It's really you?" this time it sounds surprised and a bit happy.

Baekhyun opens his eyes and gulps when the same man he left without news is here again infront of him. The man he shared love, the man he secretly hates and loves, the same man who used to be the happiness of Baekhyun. He looks different! He definitely lose weight, his hair is now plain and boring brown, his eyes no longer offers the star and galaxy Baekhyun used to spent his time gazing. His voice didn't change though, still the same deep voice that never fails to make him tremble.

"Kris, well... yes this is me." Baekhyun sheepishly admits it's him.

"It's been a while," Kris opens his mouth. He takes the empty spot beside Baekhyun.

"Look Kris, I don't have much time," Baekhyun dares himself to face him and holds his tears back. He almost breaks down in tears when he once again sees the man he loves in front of him.

"I know it was hard for both of us, but that was the best for us. This is the best for us." Kris stays quiet despite wanting to kiss Baekhyun and tell him everything he kept to himself for a good two years, but no he wants to listen to Baekyun. He reflected for two years and he wanted to make up all his bad mistakes.

"Fate doesn't let us be together... our family hates one another... we can't... we just can't be one Kris." Baekhyun bites his lips and holds his tears back. His heart is breaking right now when he sees the broken look in Kris' eyes. When he first saw Kris sitting beside him, he swore he saw a glint of hope in Kris' eyes but now Baekhyun completely destroys it. He hates him for one again hurting Kris, but this is for their own goods.

Baekhyun can no longer holds his tears, he breaks down into tears right beside Kris. The brunette hides his face in his hands and his shoulder moves as he expresses all of his bottled up emotions. Something glints under the last rays of the sun and Kris moves closer to Baekhyun's side. He bravely takes Baekhyun into a hug and he brings his thumb to wipe the crystals falling over Baekhyun's smooth cheeks. Kris cannot speak a word, his mouth goes mute all he knows is his life is completely dark now without Baekhyun. It was dark already before when he left, but now when he clearly said that... Kris feels like dying.

"Good bye Kris," Baekhyun stands up and walks to leave the broken hearted man. He turns one last time to see his unrequited love; Baekhyun forces his sweet smile, "Thank you for the memories." Baekhyun takes quick steps to leave the park and Kris. A strong wind blows and makes the piles of orange dried leaves fly around and when it's over Baekhyun is completely not anywhere to be seen.

Kris closes his eyes and memorizes the last words from his love, he left him completely now. Baekhyun left his presence, his world, and his hopes. Kris fishes his jacket and pulls out a velvet box, he snaps it open and a simple diamond ring is shining there. Well, he's been carrying this around since Baekhyun left, he wanted to propose to him whenever he got the chance to see Baekhyun , but turns out his ring finger is occupied already with the same diamond ring he had in mind will fit his slender finger. Kris keeps the ring again in the box and he pockets it again in his left chest. He lets his tears run through his face as he walks along with the last falling leaf.

He leaves the love of his life with tears and thousand of memories. Kris smiles bitterly when he remembers how Baekhyun always hates autumn. Turns out all memories with Baekhyun are prominent in autumn: Baekhyun's least favorite season.

flashback <<<

"I hate autumn Kris, can you imagine how selfless the tree is, letting the leaf die so it can live longer." Baekhyun pointed to an almost bald tree.

Kris pinches the cute cheeks of Baekhyun, "Well yes the trees are selfish Baek, but did you see how sincere the leaves are? I'm sure the tree did not want the leaves to die, instead I think the leaf sacrifice itself so the tree can live," Baekhyun cuts him, "But why Kris? Why must the leaves die for the tree?"

Kris holds his lover's hand tighter in his jacket, "Because my Baekhyunnie, that way the tree can survive the harsh cold winter and make new leaf later on spring. That way the leaf and the tree are once again together!"

Baekhyun nods his head, "Woah that's a better theory! You should definitely be the one telling our kids bed time stories later on!" He cheerfully pecks a kiss on Kris' lips and blushes.

"Just like love, you must sacrifice for the one you love." Kris leans in for another kiss.

"I love you Kris, now and forever!" Baekhyun leans his head on Kris' strong and wide shoulder.

"I love you most Baekhyunnie, I'll be like the leaf in autumn!" Kris whispers to his world; Baekhyun

The two men in different place share the same memory tonight.

As the moon shines and the first snow falls they secretly whisper each other "I still love you."

[gracetoecuadorexchange]

It Rained Today

    It might not seem like a big deal. I looked up from my computer where I’d been typing up a recent story idea, disappearing into my newest fantasy world and bringing its structure into words.

    Suddenly, the world froze when over Cami’s bent head (as she watched YouTube while ascending the stairs to the second floor I was writing at the stair’s top) the window was no longer clear. Watching for only a second, and there was another disturbance against the window. A drop…then another…and it was raining.

    I can count the number of times I have known it to rain in my 3 months of being here. The first was hardly anything that counted as I watched mist barely cover the front window of a car as we drove back from the coastal city of Manta. The second was another top-of-the-stairs experience as I looked over Cami’s head and noted ‘Oh, it’s raining pretty hard, I wonder if it’ll do that again soon’. The third was when I saw the leftover raindrops on the old car as I got in to head to school.

    The wish to feel rain again, or smell it at the very least, arose with a post from Monticello. It had nothing to do with precipitation, only walking a dog for the winter. In the background behind two smiling high schoolers holding up their furry charge, the laws were blanketed in a healthy amount of snow. It hit me, then—harder than the imminent Thanksgiving I would miss—I was so far from home I couldn’t even smell the snow.

    Within moments, I was shooting back into the group chat that ‘No, I can’t walk the dog’ immediately followed by ‘I miss the smell of snow.’

    The idea didn’t settle like the Thanksgiving one. Making a Thanksgiving of my own was only a text to the exchange students, and I was eating food with a bunch of friends. Scenting the rain couldn’t be a text away. Rain wouldn’t follow my schedule.

    Now, today, November 26th, and the rain had returned. The computer in my lap was forgotten and didn’t matter anymore—

    No, I needed to go smell the rain, feel the temporary water, anything to stave off this longing for something that had been so common before.

    The only preparation I made was grabbing a stick of chocolate to eat outside and enjoy at the same time as the rain. I didn’t even bother with shoes before pushing out in only my socks and finally—finally—I could feel the cool misty air that only appears around rain.

    It wasn’t enough to just stand under the awning and feel the air and smell the watery dust of the street, I needed the sense of surprise little unpredictable raindrops again. First I stuck one arm out, then switched it for the next, not unlike how I started my morning showers to acclimate my recently woken body to the cold tap water.

    Moments later and I was leaning out as far as I could while keeping my socks on the dry tiles of the porch. It still wasn’t enough, and the socks were discarded, my feet planted on the damp raindrops at the porch’s tile edge where the awning hadn’t protecting it. After that and I shoved the socks in my pockets then stepped off the porch. No particular plan, no excuse to tell any confused neighbors, I meandered across the brick street, hopped up on the smoothed sidewalk, and made it safely to the false lawn around our neighborhood pool.

    It wasn’t the same smell of damp grass or soaked asphalt, but the misty feel of rain-filled air was the same and it was like home. The smell wasn’t all, as I could also watch the splatter and ripples  in the bright blue pool before me.

    I’d come into this expecting the sounds to be the most acute sense of loss: no longer hearing the voices I’d know daily and instead getting them filtered through a phone, no more slammed cabinets and outrageously loud garage door and the stomp of snow boots through the entryway, no more plinking of the cereal I’ve eaten almost every of my childhood for breakfast.

    Behind sounds I figured tastes would probably be the next source of longing: microwave popcorn couldn’t be the snack I came home to when I was out of Cross Country practice for two weeks, Penne Pasta Hamburger Helper certainly wouldn’t be in the recovering Ecuadorian city of Portoviejo, oatmeal butterscotch cookies couldn’t be made with Kayla on slow weekends because there was no guarantee of butterscotch.

    After that, maybe, just maybe, I would miss some smells. Maybe I would want that butter scent from popcorn, but I could get that easily enough at a movie theater. Maybe I would miss the smell of summer sun against warm asphalt while running, but surely the streets would get warm enough from the more direct sunlight. Maybe I would long for the smell of the recently mowed lawn, since I had no idea how upkeep of grass would be achieved in an entirely different country.

    I hadn’t been too concerned about the smells with all the other things I thought were more prominent in my Illinois life. Certainly, the missing smell of grass could be a little bothering, but not as missed as no longer hearing shucked winter coats or the crushing of snow.

    Instead, I found myself walking out into the rain with no umbrella and no shoes and no plan, missing the smell, followed by the feel, followed by the scene of drops in a pool. Even now, walking into my room with it’s open window to the continuing light rain, being enveloped in the smell of rain once more is like walking into a comforting embrace that I’d missed for 3 whole months.

    It wasn’t quite the same look that came with a summer thunderstorm—no broken lightning splitting the cloud imposed darkness or smeared scenery behind the curtains of rain. It wasn’t quite the same sound of a summer thunderstorm—no roiling crescendo or pounding downpour. But the scent…I finally had it again. It rained today, and I stepped through the sprinkles as each brought me back to the familiarity of home.

[facets-and-rainbows]

Blue Exorcist: Home Sweet Home (part 5)

The feels train never stops! Here’s part 5 of the translation!

Previous parts: [1] [2] [3] [4]

Part 5

—When had he fallen asleep?

Yukio was pretty sure he had dreamt of desperately calling out for his father. Then, for some reason, his brother showed up, and asked “Is he deliveries?”

Yukio didn’t have the faintest idea what that was supposed to mean, so he hadn’t said anything. And then his brother, looking troubled, had asked “Are you lonely cause Dad’s not here?” Yukio was, but he couldn’t answer because he didn’t want to seem like too much of a daddy’s boy on top of being a weakling. His brother had suddenly gotten a look of determination on his face, said “Just hang on, Yukio,” and run out of the room. His retreating back had looked smaller and smaller, until it was finally swallowed up by the darkness.

This time, Yukio woke up calling out for his brother.

“Ugh…mmm…”

When he opened his heavy eyelids, the first thing he saw was the yellowed ceiling. Then his sense of smell came back. The stench was still there; he winced at it, but the rest of him actually felt quite a bit better. His headache and sore throat were subsiding.

Yukio sat up groggily. The rag and pickled plums tumbled down onto his futon.

Nii-san’s plums and leeks didn’t actually work, did they? Yukio wondered, incredulous, as he untied the leek from his neck. He felt his own forehead and found to his astonishment that the fever had gone down.

Home remedies were nothing to sneer at—though he felt like he’d actually just gotten caught up in his brother’s reckless energy. Whoever said illness was all in your head wasn’t all wrong, it seemed.

How’s everyone else doing? Are they better too?

He straightened his glasses and looked over to his side. Out of the four futons next to him, Nagatomo’s, Kyoudou’s, and Izumi’s were all empty. Maruta was still fast asleep, complete with distressed-sounding snoring.

“?”

Maybe they had gone to the bathroom? Yukio got out of his futon and went out into the hallway, where he found the three of them standing around talking about something.

“Any luck?”

“No, he’s not over here either.”

“Geez, where could he have gone?”

Unlike Yukio, who felt all better, all three of them still looked pale. Occasionally they would hold their heads dejectedly, or hug the fronts of their cotton robes, or cough.

“What happened? You should all be sleeping,” Yukio ventured.

Three dead-tired faces turned towards him. Nagatomo, scratching his beard, answered awkwardly:

“Thing is, we can’t find Rin anywhere.”

“Nii-san?” Yukio furrowed his young brow. “He’s not here? Anywhere?”

“No.”

“Seriously, where’d he go?” Izumi grumbled nervously, scratching his spiky blond hair. “…Hopefully he just got bored of taking care of us and went off to play somewhere.”

…That’s not it. Yukio mentally shot down Izumi’s idea.

Rin would never abandon a mission from their father to go play. And there was no way he would leave all of them alone while they were sick and go off somewhere to play without even telling anyone. He must have left to do something important.

! What if…

The realization hit him.

That dream he’d had a while ago—what if it hadn’t been a dream, and his brother really had been asking if he was lonely?

What did he mean by “Just hang on”? He’s not trying to find Dad and bring him back, is he?

That would be bad.

The creases deepened on Yukio’s little forehead.

“What’s wrong, Yukio?” Nagatomo asked. “Are you hurting anywhere? You should get back to bed.”

Yukio stopped frowning and shook his head no. He even smiled shyly.

“I’m actually feeling a lot better, so I’m gonna look around for a bit. You should all get some rest yourselves.”

 Yukio went out with an umbrella and saw that it was snowing.

“It’s cold…”

Yukio shivered a little under his umbrella, even though he was wrapped in his reindeer-colored duffle coat.

He had wasted a lot of time convincing the three adults to let him go, and then they’d bundled him up as fat as a snowman, making sure he was completely protected. He looked pretty lame all puffed up with clothes, but there was no helping it.

“Nii-san, where did you go?”

As he picked his way through the least soggy parts of the sidewalk, Yukio was at a loss.

He wished he had twin telepathy, or empathic powers, or some sci-fi ability like that. He did try closing his eyes and going “Hmmmmm…” but it didn’t work. There was no sign at all.

Of course not, Yukio thought, embarrassed at himself for trying something so stupid.

He kept walking aimlessly down the sidewalk.

“Oh? Why, is that Yuki-chan from Father Fujimoto’s place?”

An old woman from the neighborhood called out to him. He turned, and she smiled gently.

“Yes, it is you!”

She was a little old lady who came to morning mass at True Cross Church every day, with a gnarled oak walking stick and snow-white hair that she kept in a bun on top of her head. She always wore all black, and once when they were younger the twins had gotten all excited thinking that she might be a witch. Yukio remembered his brother telling him that the black leather handbag she always carried around was full of snakeskin and skulls and magic potions. It had sounded so true when he said it.

Of course, she wasn’t a witch at all, just a perfectly normal, nice old lady who called Yukio “Yuki-chan” and Rin “big brother.”

“H-Hello,” Yukio greeted her, blushing a little out of shyness. She returned the greeting, smiling with her sunken eyes. Then she said:

“I just saw your big brother wandering around by the river.” Yukio’s eyes widened at the sudden, unexpected information.

“The river? Where by the river was he?”

“Let’s see…I think…It was…Oh, that’s right. He was on the river bank on the other side of South Cross Bridge. He was crouched down with a plastic bag. I wonder what he was doing?”

“A plastic bag? Crouched down?” Yukio tilted his head in confusion. What could his brother have been doing in a place like that?

At any rate, the old lady had kindly told him where his brother was.

“Thank you very much.” Yukio bowed politely and headed for the riverbank.

When he got to the place she had mentioned, he looked all around but didn’t see anyone who looked like his brother. In fact, he didn’t see anyone at all by the river. The wind was bone-chillingly cold, maybe because he was so close to the water.

“…Did he already go somewhere else?”

And after I came all the way out here… Yukio’s shoulders fell in disappointment.

A thin layer of snow was collecting on the riverbank. The wild plants growing here and there had their heads bent down under the weight of the snow. But they were still trying their best to look towards heaven, standing noble and strong. They kind of reminded Yukio of his brother.

As he was gazing off towards the plants, Yukio suddenly remembered something.

Come to think of it…

When his dad made ojiya for him, he had filled it with wild herbs that he had picked from around here.

“Shepherd’s purse, water celery, and chickweed are chock full of vitamins and minerals, you know? They say good health starts with good nutrition! Also, they’re free. Bwahahaha!”

Yukio had sipped his ojiya while his father laughed cheerfully, and he still remembered how it tasted. The warmth of the ojiya spread through his stomach, which had felt shrunken after a day with no food. But more than anything, he was happy that his father had gone to so much back-breaking effort just for him, and it warmed his heart.

Why would Nii-san come here? And he was crouching down with a plastic bag…

Yukio stood in thought with his hand on his chin like an adult. Then he looked up suddenly.

“No way…”

What if, when Yukio was half-asleep, he’d said something like “I want some of Dad’s ojiya”?

If his brother had heard that…

Knowing him, he’d want to grant his little brother’s wish, whatever it took.

On a cold day like this…Without an umbrella or anything…

In his mind’s eye, he saw his brother determinedly searching for water celery and chickweed, brushing aside the layer of snow with his numb hands. Yukio narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. He was overcome with an emotion he couldn’t describe—sort of happy, sort of upset, sort of sad, sort of painful, sort of warm, and somehow sort of annoyed on top of all that.

“He’s so…stupid,” Yukio muttered, his voice tearful and his lips drawn tight.

He started to retrace his own steps, his slightly oversized boots moving much faster than before.

Now that he knew his brother’s true intentions, he had to get back home as soon as he could and pretend to sleep. He had to act surprised…

Wow, Nii-san! Did you make this?

Like that.

His brother would probably say “Well, maybe…” with that triumphant look on his face. He’d laugh and rub at the bottom of his nose.

Right, I have to tell everyone.

He’d tell them to pretend they hadn’t noticed Rin had left.

He’d tell them not to eat lunch just yet.

And he’d tell them to finish all of their ojiya, no matter how horrible it turned out to be.

I wish the snow would stop at least, he thought, looking up at the cloudy sky past his umbrella. That way his brother would be just a little bit less cold.

But the snow didn’t care what Yukio wanted; it just kept coming down.

Normally, he would have loved watching those big fluffy snowflakes, but he hated them today.

[go to part 6]