#but i enjoy the reflection in watch the party die (and the backing track too)

[katsukikitten]

Hello friends! Here is my contribution to the Bakugou Birthday Bash! The master link will be linked here ! Please enjoy my bit of an angsty fic! And all of the other art and works that are on the master list! Enjoy the big bakugou blow out and remember to leave a comment on your favorite pieces! Happy birthday ya shitty man! (Lowkey become 3d please)

Warning: he's 28 btw 😂 (my fic says so also)

It shouldn't be this fucking hard to get groceries and booze. It's a quick and easy errand. Everything already pre-ordered for an important birthday that just needed to be picked up. And yet here you were crying in your car trying to get it together before the attendant asked for the order name. Honestly you had texted out "I can't do this today. Sorry." Several times before deleting it, telling yourself not to hit send. But you would have to be having the worst mental day of your life wouldn't you? Today of all days, how fucking selfish of you.

Especially with the amount of time and effort you and Kirishima had put into this idea. Since New Year's actually, months and months of planning after the two of you had gotten shit faced at Denki and Mina's new years party, creating the brain child. All after bonding over switching patrol partners six months before, you had gotten Bakugou and he had gotten Ashido. Kirishima and yourself giggle over stupid things to the side of the party, people watching as you took shots. Kirishima points towards a normally grumpy blonde.

"Wow I think he's actually having fun." You snort, as you watch Bakugou hide his rare cat smile behind a sip of his beer as Mina makes Denki the butt of a joke.

"He actually loves parties. He never says it so people just think he's a wet blanket." Kirishima laughs, pouring the two of you another shot. Bakugou lets out a particularly loud laugh after 'Dunce Face' proves Mina's point. I guess that would be the time that it started.

When you started to fall. His laugh makes your cheeks deepen in hue and burn, to want to hear it again, to watch it again and learn all of the other sides of your patrol partner that he obviously only reserved for his closest friends.

"Let's throw him a great birthday party." You say, holding up your shot as a devilish smile spreads over sharp teeth. The mountainous man clinks your shot glass before he adds.

"Let's." In unison the two of you down the burning liquid as the plan comes into fruition.

Four months, four months and nineteen days of you thinking of nothing but your patrol partner with whom you got extremely close with since New Year's. So why? Why today of all days were you struggling? Why would normal everyday tasks feel more as if you were wading through mud than the breeze they should have been? You flip down the visor, looking yourself in the eye through little square mirror as you grit your teeth hissing

"Get your shit together."

Your little pep talk helps you get the several cakes and the cart full of booze that everyone requested, planning to make this the best birthday ever. Helping Kirishima set his house up with decorations, setting out the snacks, catering and even pouring some drinks as guests began to arrive to set down their gifts and help with the last minute touches before hiding. Masking through the pit in your stomach as you smiled at all of your friends as they poured in through Kirishima's door. Through the weighted emptiness you felt as each one wrapped you into a tight hug, already praising you and Kirishima for the amazing effort, that Bakugou would be so surprised when it was more than just you and Kirishima here. . Finally you had to go and get the guest of honor just before sundown to catch him before he went to bed. A much needed breather from the constant smiling and forcing a laugh that everyone thought sounded genuine.

Enjoying the silence of the evening train as it pulled you across town to the unsuspecting blonde. And maybe you could have made it through the night from your shitty pep talk or at least through getting the freshly 28 year old to his party but instead you catch your reflection in the window. Your facial features weighted with exhaustion, shoulders hunched allowing your body to continue to produce cortisol. Tears prick your eyes as you deep low, too low. Remembering everything and nothing all at once, steeping in guilt as you beg yourself for just a few more hours. That the depression episode can happen when you're home and alone, after the party goes off without a hitch. Tears fall anyway and they do all the way to Bakugou's until you finally get enough control to step out of yourself for a moment. Ringing the doorbell several times as a smile is plastered on your face, the door swings open. Bakugou's eyes narrow as they take you in, he notices that something is off. Your smile is a little too wide, your eyes rimmed red but he says nothing about it. Instead he lets his initial anger come forth.

"Oi! I told you to fuckin' text me when you were on the train so I could meet you at the station!" He growls, slamming his door shut and pocketing his keys. Deadly and sweaty hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket as his palms itch to hold onto something else. Garnet eyes track your own hands as you reach over your head stretching.

"Yea yea, I hear you Dad." You tease giving him a look, "I still made it okay."

"Kirishima should have come instead of you that fuckin hair for brains." He snarls keeping pace with you as he always does on patrol.

"I know Dad must be sad cause his favorite didn't come to pick him up." You try not to sound dejected, nudging him in the ribs to distract from the crack in your voice, "Happy birthday ya big lug."

Bakugou cuts you a glare, mind racing before his barks out a "Thanks."

Comfortable silence stretches between the two of you before you two hit the train station, passing a corner store.

"Was shitty hair burning dinner? Do I need to stop for back up?" His thumb hooks over his shoulder towards the neon as he stands idle waiting for you to jog your memory. Kirishima had burned the last friend's dinner making Bakugou so angry he walked six blocks to make something that was 'FUCKIN EDIBLE!' while you tried to air out his apartment. You laugh loudly, genuinely for the first time that day causing Bakugou's shoulders to sag with relief. In the ten months he had been working with you he had only seen you faking a smile or laugh once or twice. Then the time after that you were absent from work the next day or two forcing him to patrol with Denki but worse yet...making him worry.

"Guess I'll grab something just in case." He gave you his back so you wouldn't see his face or the faint blush that dusted his cheeks.

"No, no! I ordered out this time. From that famous chef you like." Bakugou glares your way, digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

"How much." He demands through gritted teeth while you show him the palms of your hands in surrender.

"Woah woah! It's your birthday gift! You can't pay me back for dinner! I'd sooner burn the money before I'd accept it from you!" Your watch dings with a message from Kirishima asking for an ETA. You grab onto Bakugou's hand pulling him along into a run as you shout over your shoulder.

"We're gonna be late!"

Oh how Bakugou wished you hadn't done that, he was already struggling to keep his heart beat even when you were around and now to grab onto him. To pull him along in a hurry like those cheesy insta posts that couples did on their "grand adventure" together. He swallows the lump in his throat as he reminds himself that you are nothing more than his patrol partner. His friend at best.

Even though the train was mostly empty Bakugou stood closely by you, as he always did when the two of you were in a crowded space. He had seen how most men took advantage of the situation and he hated the idea of that happening to you although he knew you were more than capable of handling it on your own. Hell you could kick even his ass but he would die before ever admitting that. Instead he watches you talk about what you ordered for dinner and how you got the cake from that bakery Sato works part time at, the same one he got your birthday cake from but he doesn't hear a word. Instead all he can see is the golden light from the setting sun worshiping you. Kissing your skin to make it glow, giving your eyes a hue that makes his heart fall into his stomach and illuminating you in a true light. A radiant ethereal thing is what you were and Bakugou was just lucky enough to be standing by you. So out of it he doesn't realize the two of you are at your stop.

"Uh Suki?" Your voice is soft paired with the setting sun has him acting weird. He leans closer to you, pulled by some invisible force before he stops himself as he watches you look up at him beneath long lashes.

"You okay?" You ask almost nervously from his proximity, the smell of spice and caramel wrap around you making you feel warm and fuzzy. Temporarily making you forget that you were trying to act on the train, making you relax as you just talked to Bakugou. He sucks his teeth as he picks up your bag to sling over his shoulder.

"Yea but you were gonna forget your whole damn purse like you always do." He huffs, this time he was the one pulling at your hand in a rush before the doors closed to trap you two on the train. His hand feels warm in yours, his grip tight as he drags you along before pulling you within his sight, another habit of his you happened to notice. Almost reluctantly he lets go of you hand as Kirishima's house comes into view.

"We better have a good time tonight patrol Princess or you owe me a special birthday gift." He laughs causing you to roll your eyes at his stupid nickname that stuck after your first day with him, adamant that the two of you take your route instead of his it was a huge argument. But it was a good thing he listened to the "princess", it put the two of you smack dab in the middle of a robbery. You stick out your tongue.

"Trust me. You're gonna have a good time!" You push him up the steps as he bats away your hands. Opening the front door before everyone jumps out of various and bad hiding spots.

"SURPRISE!!" All of the alumni of class A and some of B shout, a select few already slurring their words. Bakugou's scowl turns into a smirk before he looks over his shoulder at you.

"Aw you did this to me?" His voice is teasing but his eyes almost sparkle, you nod encouraging him to go deeper into the party. As he does people flock to him laughing and yelling out happy birthday until he's sick of hearing it. All the while your smile wanes with the night. Until an hour in that heavy episode hits you full force. Numbness setting in where happiness should be, rotting as it turns to shame and guilt as you watch your friend, your crush, enjoy his night. Bringing a glass bottle to his lips as he talks with Kirishima, who then presses a shot into his hands. Bodies dancing to the house music that beat out of the speakers competing with chatter and laughter.

It felt weird to watch everyone truly enjoying themselves while you felt low. It felt more as if you were standing outside of the house, looking in through the window to see everyone enjoying themselves, no one even knowing who you were as you stared in.

You felt distant, alone. What a shitty way to feel in a room full of people, none of it being their fault and so the guilt pressed harder. Eyes watering as they lingered on the blonde who deserved this celebration and more. Making you decide to give the best birthday gift of them all.

To slip away upstairs and onto the roof, to give the room space to breathe when you felt like suffocating.

Crying to no one but the moon.

And no one noticed. Two hours slip by before Kirishima insists that Bakugou make a wish and eat cake before everyone gets too drunk too. The entire house drunkenly sings happy birthday but Bakugou notices a voice missing. Yours that's just a touch off key, not to mention he didn't hear you say the stupid nickname 'Suki' where his name should be in the song. Plus you weren't one to miss out on dessert. For as long as Bakugou has been working with you, you never turned down the opportunity for sweets. Whether that was taking the long way back to the agency to try to catch a certain street vendor or to hover by the deserts at a party to pick the very best treat.

And if it was a birthday party, you never could shut up that y'all could not leave until after they blew out the candles and made a wish.

His eyes linger for a second longer, making sure he didn't miss you before his heart sinks. He takes in a sharp inhale, thinks on his wish and blows out the candles.

Meanwhile you hear the cheers of everyone down stairs and sob into your knees. You missed your favorite part of birthdays. Of hoping they make a wish that comes true, of watching their face as they think of something quickly or how some people tear up when they finally realize just how loved they are on their birthday.

It isn't long after that do you hear the sound of combat boots on shingles. Whipping your head up in the direction of the sound. Stomach clenching with guilt as you watch Bakugou walking towards you with a slice of cake.

"Brought ya some cake, since I didn't hear you sing off key to me." He says sinking down beside you as you furiously wipe at your tears.

"I'm-um."

"You don't gotta explain yourself to me." He snarls as you stare dumbly at your cake, "You know that."

"I know…" Silence passes slowly, the moon shines overhead and the party carries on below.

"Well, I'm waiting!" Bakugou says dramatically, "You gonna sing or am I gonna have to sing to myself?"

"Oh." It makes you giggle a bit before you blush, realizing he is serious. You take a deep breath before singing "just off key" when you don't, to him.

"Sukiiiiii!" Relief washes over his features when he hears the dumb ass name, "Happy birthday to youuuuuu!"

"Okay, now you can eat the damn cake." He grunts, his smile never wavering as he looks to the empty street below. You follow his eyes, chewing the inside of your lip, setting the cake down.

"What'd you wish for…" Curiosity gets the better of you and earns his intense gaze. He smirks, scoffing at the end.

"You always say you shouldn't tell or it won't come true." He laughs at your pout, before he finally admits "I wished for courage."

With a furrowed brow you give him a puzzled look, he just holds your gaze.

"Why? You're like the bravest hero I know!" Bakugou can hear the truth in your voice, you aren't saying it just to fucking stroke his ego.

You actually meant it, making this conversation that much harder.

"Yea except when it comes to this one thing I want to do. Its fuckin easy and I've done it hundreds of times just as I'm about to do it I fucking back down cause I'm probably fuckin reading into things too much." He leans in closer, again his smell mesmerizes you, causing your body to visibly relax, "Too much of a fuckin bitch, thinking she doesn't want me like I want her. So I wished for the courage to follow through. To fuckin' just do it."

Your heart is racing out of your chest before one of his hands finds the nape of your neck pulling you into a feverish kiss. Teeth gnashing from the passion, lips perfectly modeling to the other before tongues lightly dance around one another. Lengthening seconds into hours with just a few head tilts and plush lips. You moan into his mouth, he pulls away, eyes clouded with lust as a string of spit connects your tongues. He pants, face flushed and his hand warm, almost burning at the nape of your neck, the shingle by his hand charred from restraint as he pants out.

"I wished for you."

[azaleavi]

Stranger with a knife - Y.B.

Summary: A stranger disturbs you in the middle of the night. Turns out that stranger might have a thing for knives.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: use of knives, blood, alcohol mention, stab wound, mention of knife kink, very brief hint on use of poison

Author’s note: My first ever Yelena fic!! I’m super nervous to post it so please give me feedback! I’ve never written for a female character before but i hope you guys like it!

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

It's in the middle of the night when you hear noise coming from outside your front door. It must be the neighbor you think and turn to your other side, away from the door to your room. You look at the digital clock and the bright red numbers tell you that it's just a little past 4 am. You are used to the people living next to you making noise. They always go out partying and they come back around this time so you don't make a fuss about it.

The noise of a few cars passing by on the street flow through the open window with the movement of the curtain caused by the light breeze. It does nothing for the heat that settled inside the four walls, the summer sun not letting go of you even during the night when it's sleeping.

You hear the noise again, like a person grunting just outside your little living space. It must have been some party you smile to yourself, a little jealousy seeping into the curve of your lips. You wanted to go out and party sometimes. Of course, you do, but that kind of time is not something you have.

The noise comes again, not moving an inch away from you and you realize that it's a female voice. You sit up in bed, worried for the mystery woman. She might be in trouble and you could not sleep knowing she might need your help.

Your feet touch the ground beside your bed just as the front door opens. The creaking of the old door echoes through the quiet space as you freeze in your spot, hands on the edge of the mattress ready to push you up to stand. Didn't you lock the door?

You are thankful that your eyes are used to the dark as you stand on shaky legs, trying to be as quiet as possible. Slowly walking to the door you grab the wood to open it just enough to look through the crack. An outline of a smaller figure catches your eyes as she stumbles in and closes the door behind her. At least she has some manners.

She stumbles onto your couch, her hands clutching her side. Landing on the soft cushions with a groan, she turns on her back.

You open the door a little more but stop your movements as it creaks. Damn old doors. She looks up from her stomach that she is still holding and your mouth opens in shock as she locks eyes with you. She has beautiful eyes.

"What-" she starts speaking, but her words fell short as she loses consciousness and falls back onto the couch. In a panic, you walk out the door and turn on the light. The woman has a big red patch on the side of her shirt and you can see her flesh under it as the fabric is cut open.

You pull the shirt away from her wound to check it out and you realize that it's not as bad as it looks. You are not a doctor, but you can tell that she doesn't need stitches. Pushing her shirt up just enough, you go and get some water, a towel, and some bandages. She needs your help no matter how she broke into your house. You clean all the blood away and wrap her in the bandages to the best of your abilities. When you are satisfied with your work you sit down on a chair facing the couch. You know you couldn't sleep with a stranger in your apartment so you decide on watching her. Your tired body has other plans though and you slip into sleep 15 minutes after.

-

The morning sun shines onto your closed eyelids making you stir in your sleep. Realizing what happened you jolt awake, almost falling off the uncomfortable chair you have been sitting on for the past few hours. the woman is still in the same place, passed out. A sigh leaves your lips in relief. You don't know what she would have done to you if she woke up before you.

Your stomach grumbles into the quiet morning air, signaling that the small dinner you had was not enough. After one last check on the woman, you walk into the kitchen to prepare something for you, making a little more than you usually would in case your guest wakes up hungry too.

As you busy yourself with breakfast, you don't notice the woman wake up and look around the unfamiliar place. Felling something around her torso she looks down and sees a bandage neatly wrapped around the wound she sustained last night. Her eyes land on your frame standing by the stove and her training kicks in. Standing up she quietly walks over to the kitchen counter that has knives on it and grabs one.

You feel a presence behind you, but before you can turn around you feel the coldness of the metal pressed to your neck. Your hands stop moving as you gasp. Her other hand goes around your waist and you can't help but grab onto it in panic.

"Who are you?" her accent is thick as it rumbles inside your ear.

"I think I should be the one asking that" your accent is just as prominent yet slightly different and she is taken back for a second. Who are you to talk back to her like this when you have a knife to your neck?

"I asked first" the childish claim is the only thing that comes out of her mouth, her brain unable to think of anything else. You tilt your head slightly as if saying fair.

"I'm the owner of the house you stumbled into in the middle of the night" you don't know where this confidence comes from, but you like it "Your turn" you look at the tiles on the wall ahead of you, trying to make her out in the reflection but it's no use. It's way too blurred to make out any features, but you can feel that she is around the same height as you.

"I'm the person who stumbled into your house" you can basically hear the smirk in her voice and you hold back a groan.

"I'll need a little more than that" you talk back to her and she is surprised once again.

"Well too bad" she lets go of you and you immediately turn around to come face to face with the most attractive woman you have ever seen. You look into her eyes and now it's your turn to be speechless.

"I was right" you mumble as a small smile plays on your lips.

"About what?" she furrows her eyebrows in confusion.

"Your eyes are really pretty" her whole body freezes at the compliment that leaves your mouth. She stares at you for a few seconds then clears her throat and turns away from you.

"So what happened?" she sits down on one of the chairs, keeping the knife close to her hand. Just in case.

"I told you. You walked into my house and bled on my couch" you shrug as you turn off the stove. Taking out two plates you scrape the food into each. She watches as you place one plate in front of her before sitting down on the chair across the table.

"How do I know you didn't put anything in this?" she looks down at it and she has to admit, it smells delicious.

"You'll have to find out" you tease her but immediately regret it as the knife is back under your chin, pressing against your skin almost breaking it.

"I'm starting to think you have a knife kink" your eyes don't leave the blade as you continue to tease her. She scoffs at your comment and pushes the knife harder against you "Okay, okay I'm just kidding" you try to de-escalate the situation as you hold your hands up in surrender. She takes mercy on you and pulls away the knife from your throat. A sigh escapes you as she leans back into her chair, making her smirk under her nose.

"Do you want me to eat from your food too?" you raise your eyebrows but she waves you off.

"I'm not hungry anyway. Do you have some vodka?" she tilts her head that you find oddly adorable.

"Vodka?" you ask back in surprise. Why would she want alcohol early in the morning?

"Yes" she nods like there is nothing wrong with what she is asking for.

"Sure" you shrug, acting nonchalant. If she wants to drink so early then she has another thing coming. You walk to the fridge and pull out a bottle. Trying to shield it from her view, you pour it into a shot glass and turn around to face her. She is sitting there impatiently as you hand the glass to her and she drowns it without thinking. You can see on her face that she was expecting the familiar sting of alcohol. Instead, she got a big shot of water from you. You can barely hide your smile as you see her face drop. She turns to you and you hide your mouth behind your hand.

"Do you think you are funny?" her voice is low as she stands up and you take a step back.

"A little, yes" you scrunch up your nose while nodding. She feels her anger dissipate at the action, but she steels herself.

"Okay then funny girl why don't you tell me your name?" she takes another step closer to you, but you mirror her movement backward.

"You first" your eyes don't leave hers as you play this cat and mouse game.

"I could kill you in a second" she threatens you, but for some reason, you don't budge. Everything you do baffles her and she needs to figure you out.

"If you wanted to kill me you would have done it already" you tilt your head to the side with a small smile. She stops in her tracks as her heart almost skips a beat at the action. Almost. The expression on her face makes you furrow your eyebrows "What?" the question shakes her out of her stupor and she raises her knife once again. She needs to leave right now before she does anything she will regret.

"If you tell anyone that I was here" she steps closer and this time you don't move back "you will die a painful death" you suck in a sharp breath at her words.

"Wait, you are leaving?" there is a slight sadness in your voice that she notices, but chooses to ignore. You don't even know why you want her to stay. She is a stranger that got stabbed and broke into your apartment in the middle of the night. You shouldn't want her to stay.

"I already stayed longer than I should have" she explains as she puts down the knife on the table and walks towards the front door.

It's already open by the time you reach her and you grab her elbow in a hurry. Her hand wraps around your wrist so tightly that it hurts and you hiss as you pull away from her. She mumbles a sorry under her breath as she fully turns back to you.

"I need to-"

"At least tell me your name" you interrupt whatever she wanted to say. Your eyes are wide as you look at her, your voice having a hint of desperation. Her heart beats just a little harder as you stare at her with so much hope in your eyes. A sigh parts her lips as she brings her hand to your cheek. Her palm presses against the soft flesh on your face and you can't help but lean into her touch. You don't know her, but you feel more comfortable around her than you had with anyone in your life.

"Yelena" you didn't even notice that you closed your eyes until it snaps open. Her name. Yelena.

"Yelena" you whisper is like an echo of an empty staircase of her voice and she concludes she likes it. You stare at each other for a few quiet seconds, her hand still on your cheek.

"Don't move away from this place" she lets go of you and leaves you perplexed by her words.

"What?" you ask back. You must have heard her wrong.

She doesn't answer you. Instead, she walks away from you and only throws you a smile over her shoulder. You stand there as she walks down the stairs and disappears from your sight.

Your mind is a mess as you close the door and press your back against it. You don't know anything about her other than her name, but you know one thing. You won't move away from this apartment until a specific blonde woman shows up at your door again. Maybe this time not bleeding.

[starshine583]

could you do A for the soul mate thing with felinette?

(Sorry it took me so long to reply! I’m still trying to keep up with my schedule for the “New Girl on the Block” fic, but rest assured that I’m totally writing all of the requests for this when I can! The next one I’m going to be working on is V for Daminette. I hope you enjoy the snippet and thank you for the ask!!)

If someone had the choice between technical immortality and certain death, it should be safe to assume that that person would accept the former. Technical immortal was the only logical option, after all. No one wanted to die. And yet, people chose death everyday. In fact, they were obsessed with it, because certain death guaranteed one thing that immortality couldn’t: a soulmate. 

When a person turns eighteen, their aging process freezes due to some strange magic that scientists still can’t explain. From then on, that person will remain eighteen until they find their soulmate, specifically until they touch their soulmate directly with bare skin. Once their soulmate is found, they will begin aging as usual, as if they’d never become temporarily immortal in the first place. Some people speculate that this gives the two soulmates a chance to grow old together.

Felix, personally, believed that it gave him a chance to harbor an unlimited life span free of charge. Who needs a soulmate when you can explore all of the things in the world that are normally hindered by the aging process? There were too many things that he wanted to accomplish for him to worry about something as fickle as love or relationships. 

One of those things happened to be building up the fashion empire that he had inherited.

It was hard to gain the respect that he deserved at first considering his physical appearance made him seem like a child, but once people found out that he was in his late twenties, it made things much easier. Now, three years has passed since his accepting the role of acting CEO, and the company’s success rate has been steadily rising until their profits were through the roof. He’s quite proud of it, if he’s being honest.

Felix straightened the papers on his desk and set them to the side, catching the glimpse of his golden wrist watch as he did so. The little hand pointed towards one in the morning, telling him that he’d spent another late night at the office. He didn’t mind, though. These were the things that needed to be done for his company to excel.

However, he also needed sleep for the company to excel, and this seemed like a good stopping point if ever he saw one, so Felix stood from his rolling chair to begin gathering his things to leave. 

“Hey, Sir, are you up there?” A voice crackled across the intercom. Felix paused his preparations to smile at it. It was the unmistakable voice of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, his personal secretary for the last two years (and his close friend for the last year and a half). They always happened to work late on the same nights, didn’t they?

He pressed the glowing red button on the intercom. “You know I am. What do you need?”

“I’m working on another piece for a fashion show. I want your input.”

Felix chuckled. How many of her pieces had he given his input on now?

“I’ll be down there in a second.”

“You’re the best!”

Felix set his stuff back on the desk and moved towards the door to his office. He hesitated briefly when he spotted his black, leather gloves on the edge of his desk- he made a point to wear them constantly, along with a number of other pieces of clothing, so he could avoid direct skin contact with others. No sense in taking any chances -but decided to leave them alone for once. Marinette should be the only other person in the office, anyway. It wouldn’t make a difference.

He took an elevator down to the second floor, where most of his top designers worked, and walked over to the desk that had its lamp turned on. He’d know which desk was hers either way- could probably find it in his sleep at this point -but it was a nice give away.

Marinette was crouched on the floor when he got there, stabbing a needle into some material that was draped across a mannequin. Her eyes were narrowed with concentration, and her tongue was poking out of her lips as it always did when she was working hard. Felix held back a snort at the endearing sight and glanced around her desk while he waited for her to notice his presence. 

When she first joined his company, she was a budding fashion designer, someone who had been gaining a bit of fame for working with Gabriel Agreste, Jagged Stone, Aubrey Bourgeois, and many other note-worthy people. Apparently, she thought it was time to build a business of her own, and therefore, applied for the job as his personal secretary in an effort to gain experience on how a business should be run before actually starting anything. 

The notion admittedly impressed Felix. People rarely thought to find personal experience in running a business before actually starting one. They normally just took a class and hoped that it paid off. Someone with that kind of rational thinking was someone he knew he wanted in his company, though, so he agreed to hire her, even if she would still be working independently on personal commissions.

Now that two years had passed, she would probably be leaving any minute now to become her own boss. It might be in a week, or in a few months, perhaps even a year, but he found himself dreading it no matter how long she continued to work for him. He’d grown quite accustomed to having her in his life, be it getting lunch together or going over the morning schedule or giving each other advice on their work. The quiet moments they shared made work life a little more enjoyable and made those rare nights of loneliness from refusing a soulmate a little more tolerable too. 

“Oh, Felix!” 

Felix’s eyes dragged back down to Marinette, who was staring up at him with wide eyes.

“When did you get down here?”

A small smile crossed his lips. “You know how it used to be one in the morning?”

Marinette tisked, picking up on his light-hearted tone. “Oh, whatever. If you don’t want to get stuck waiting then tell me when you get here. Now, come look at this and tell me what you think.”

She stood up and moved away from the mannequin, then gestured for Felix to step closer, which he gladly obliged to do. The outfit hanging on the mannequin was a dress that appeared to have several layers and a few frills. It seemed to be made out of silk on the inside, and on the inside was another material that had an antique, flower pattern. The way the materials were sown together, though, and the things she must have added to the flower pattern, didn’t  give off the impression of it being old or outdated. It was a mix between old and new that created a unique combination.

“I think it looks fine.” He said after studying it.

Marinette groaned. “Fine doesn’t help me, Felix. What does it strike you as? Stunning? Charming? Old-Fashioned? I know you have more descriptive terms than ‘fine’ in that word bank brain of yours.”

Felix laughed. “Work bank brain?”

“You know what I mean.”

He does.

“Alright, Alright.” He knelt down next to the outfit again. “Might I inquire about your purpose for this garment?”

“See, there are fancy words you use all the time.” She remarked teasingly, even though she often used the same words herself. “I’m trying to create a modern Victorian type of style for my next show.”

Felix hummed. “Can I see the sketches?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re right over here.”

The pair moved back to Marinette’s desk, and she sat down in her rolling chair to slide a paper towards him. Felix leaned towards Marinette, placing his palms on the desk for balance.

“So, if you look at- oh!” Marinette had just started explaining her original thoughts for the design, when their hands brushed against each other. She drew her hand back immediately, surprise reflecting in her bluebell eyes.

“You’re not wearing any gloves.”

“Ah.” Felix drew his hands back as well. “No, I’m not. I figured they were a waste of time tonight, since it’s only us here.”

“Oh..” Marinette said. “I don’t think I’ve ever touched your bare skin before.. N-not that I’m keeping track or anything! Wow, that sounded so weird-”

Felix, being used to her ramblings by now, only chuckled. “It’s alright. I don’t think we’ve ever touched like that either.”

In fact, he knew they hadn’t, because he does keep track of who he does and doesn’t touch with his bare skin. So far, he’s managed to maintain a low count of five or so, but he supposed adding one more to the list didn’t hurt.

“Anyway, I like the way it looks. The colors combine nicely, and I can certainly see where you’re coming from with the modern, yet old-fashioned design. I’m sure people will enjoy them, especially for costume parties.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Marinette smiled. “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. I’m actually on my way out the door, but don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything else.”

“You know I won’t.”

Felix laughed and pushed himself off of the desk to begin making his way back to the elevator. “Make sure you leave soon too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.. Eventually.”

Felix threw her a playful glare over his shoulder. “I’m not kidding, Dupain-Cheng. If I see bags under those eyes tomorrow, you’re going to be fired until you get a proper night’s sleep.”

“Thank goodness for make-up then.” She joked back.

Felix rolled his eyes and bid her farewell as he entered the elevator, and her soft call of “Goodnight, Boss” managed to reach him right before the doors slid closed.

-

The next morning began as any other morning. Felix woke up to his blaring alarm clock, forced himself out of bed, and started the brew for his morning coffee. He then dragged himself over to the bathroom to get ready for the day, starting with his hair.

The mirror provided a picture of his sluggish figure as he combed his platinum blond locks to the side. His hair didn’t seem to care to cooperate that morning though, because his cowlick was refusing to lay aside as they were told. No matter how many times he combed over it, the chaotic locks refused to budge.

Felix huffed and leaned closer to the mirror, but before he could continue furiously coming his hair, something caught his attention.

At the front of his bangs, dangling loosely to the side of his face, was a single, grey hair.

Felix frowned, moving even closer to the mirror to get a better. It was definitely a grey hair, but why on earth would he have one? People at the age of eighteen didn’t get grey hairs, and he’d never gotten one before. The only reason he could possibly get a grey hair out of the blue like this was if-

Felix froze, his eyes blowing wide. No.. no, it couldn’t be. There’s no way he found his soulmate. It was impossible. The aging process only started when he touched them directly, skin to skin, and he’d been horribly precise not to do so with anyone under any circumstances. 

Well.. anyone except..

A knock came from the front door.

Although his mind was racing for answers, Felix pulled himself together enough to throw on a robe and go answer the door. 

Imagine his surprise when he found none other than Marinette standing right outside.

She looked up at him, her figure tense, and a certain anxiety painted her features. He wanted to ask what she was doing there, or why she hadn’t called to tell him that she was coming, but all he could do was stare. Perhaps it was because a part of him already knew why she’d come to visit him. She was the only person he’s touched directly in the last year, the only person who could have caused his hair to change.

Slowly, Marinette held up a strand of her hair. It was hard to make out, being a single strand, but Felix didn’t need to see it know it was grey too.

They stared at each other, both floored by the discovery, but then Felix almost had to laugh. Because of course it was her. Of course the person who he had come to know and adore and yearn to be around daily would be his soulmate. He should have known that soulmates would find each other eventually, whether they had “Soulmate Magic” to guide them or not.

Before he could say anything, Marinette let out a grieved sigh and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, Felix, I.. I’m so sorry!”

For a moment, Felix stalled, and worry started to set in. She’s sorry? Why would she be sorry?

“What do you mean?”

Marinette looked up from her hands. “I know you didn’t want to find your soulmate and start aging. I should have noticed your ungloved and been more careful, but I just wasn’t thinking, and-”

Felix blinked as she continued rambling. This girl was apologizing to him because she accidentally found out that they were soulmates. She wasn’t thinking about how much she’d wanted to find her soulmate- because he knew that she did -or that she would have gone without a soulmate for the rest of her life had she not made the discovery. No, she was thinking about him and what he had wanted, just as she always did.

“Marinette.” He said, taking her by the shoulders. “Marinette, stop.”

The ravenette paused, glancing up at him with her beautiful, concerned eyes, and he felt himself smile. 

“If anyone had to be stuck as my soulmate.. I can’t express how delighted I am that it’s you.”

A wonderful blush tinted her cheeks. “R-Really? But I thought- what about being immortal?”

Felix chuckled, and he reached out to cup her cheek. “Immortality’s a small price to pay to have you.. if you’ll have me too, that is.”

Marinette exhaled, looking completely baffled, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

“Yes.” She breathed, a shining smile coming to her features. “Yes, of course I’ll have you.”

Felix couldn’t help grinning as well, and as he pressed another kiss to her lips, he wondered how it could have taken him so long to realize what the soulmate magic was really all about. It wasn’t a choice between immortality or death, but rather a choice between immortality and life. All of the things he’d been searching for- fame, fortune, glory -and the experiences he’d been chasing meant nothing without Marinette by his side. She was the one who made him feel truly alive, and he never wanted to live without her again.

(Send me a letter and I’ll write a thing!)

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 7

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

TW for this chapter: Suicide Attempt

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 7 - Panic in the Medicated Bath

Song Qingshi searched the warehouse all night and finally found old robes made of red ice silk. He dismantled the decorative formation above, handed it over to the valley servants, and asked them to modify them to look like inner robes overnight. Then, he quietly put them on the bedside of Yue Wuhuan along with the new cotton gown.

The next day, Yue Wuhuan was shocked when he saw this ice silk robe.

Song Qingshi has urged him up from outside the door: "Hurry up, let's go for a new treatment."

"Yes, Master." Yue Wuhuan knew that he had changed masters, so he didn't dare to think too much. He put on his clothes and went out in a hurry, feeling much more comfortable in this outfit.

Song Qingshi took him through the corridor and went to the alchemy room next door. This was originally a forbidden place in the Medicine King Valley. A place where the original body used animals and humans to experiment with various medicines. It was also the place where the valley servants were most afraid of entering. Song Qingshi complied with the "Declaration of Helsinki" and rejected any human experiment that violated ethics. Fortunately, when he took over being the Medicine Master, there were not many test items left by the original body. He immediately released what he could release and helped those that needed help, and then changed it to a treatment room. The remaining specimens and general teachers are placed in other rooms - these were the big treasures of medicine, and he would study slowly when he had some free time.

Yue Wuhuan was walking towards the alchemy room and found that more than one valley servants cast sympathetic glances his way, and he became a little nervous. After entering the alchemy room, when he saw Song Qing take out a medicine vat big enough to fit a person in, he became more paranoid.

Song Qingshi didn't notice his anxiety. He threw the various medicinal materials that had been counted ahead of time into the tank, then poured water and used the alchemical fire in his body to control the temperature. After the water in the tank turned red, he turned back and said: "Take off your clothes and get in."

Yue Wuhuan stood still, his eyes stiffened when he looked at him.

"Don't be afraid," Song Qingshi finally remembered that he had forgotten to explain. "The Prince’s Plume Expelling Decoction is a medicinal bath. It won't cause discomfort."

Yue Wuhuan hesitated for a moment before stretching his hand to the belt and untying it.

Song Qingshi turned around, sat down with his back to him, not peeking at him entering the bath.

Yue Wuhuan breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly removed his clothes, and stepped into the bloody medicinal water. The hot liquid medicine penetrated into the skin, causing a slight tingling sensation, but there was indescribable comfort. He took a deep breath, relaxed completely, and suddenly sank his whole person into the water. He didn't expect that the water would overflow because it was too full. It splashed on Song Qingshi’s neck, ears and hair. A pale red flower blossomed on his white robe.

For most Daoists, the robe was a very important thing and any damage would cause heartache.

Yue Wuhuan realized his mistake and sneaked out of the water quietly. He hid in the tank and peeked out, worried that he would offend Xianzun.

Song Qingshi didn't care what happened. He stared at the bluestone on the ground in a daze. After a while, he discreetly shook the water droplets on his hair.

Yue Wuhuan picked his words carefully and asked cautiously: "Master, will you turn around so that this slave can clean you?"

Song Qingshi lowered his head and looked at the bluestone more attentively: "You are bathing, you can't peek." In his world view, it was reasonable for doctors to check the patient's physical condition during treatment, but if the doctor peeks at the patient trying to take a bath, it was morally corrupt and shameless.

Yue Wuhuan pondered these words for a long time, and guessed: "Does Master dislike that this slave's body is too dirty?"

Song Qingshi shook his head and whispered: "You don't like being watched."

"Master jokes." Yue Wuhuan's eyes hardened, and he was silent for a moment, peeking out of the water. His long hair wet sat on his shoulders, just like a mermaid who just came out of the sea. His body was otherworldly, and his muscles were perfectly proportioned with no hint of fat. His waist was slender enough to be held with one arm, but there was hidden power inside. He leaned against the edge of the bath, approached Song Qingshi’s ear, blowing lightly. His phoenix eyes were extremely charming, the red tear-shaped mole was so gorgeous that it could charm people’s hearts, and his voice was as tempting as the devil. "What is there not to see on this slave's body? The people who have seen it. . . there were too many to count. They all say that the slave's body is very beautiful and defined, and it can stop a man in his tracks. It was made to be adored. . ."

Song Qingshi quickly interrupted him, repeating: "You don't like being watched."

After Yue Wuhuan watched him for a long time, he said hoarsely: "This slave doesn't care anymore."

Song Qingshi didn't know how to explain, but insisted: "You don't like it."

Can he refuse just because he doesn't like it?

Yue Wuhuan thought this was ridiculous. In the years when he was just sent to accompany guests, he was coaxed to say that he didn't like it and didn't want it. The result was only meant to find his weaknesses for their amusement.

He didn't like to be seen, so that meant he was forced to show the most unbearable postures to everyone in the square and at banquets time and time again.

He doesn't like saying those lewd things, so he was tortured by various drugs and instruments of torture until he learned to use his voice to add to the excitement. . .

Until he abandoned his sense of shame, gave up his dignity, and pretended to enjoy these things.

He had known for a long time that in the eyes of these stupid cultivators, he was just a beautiful toy, without emotions, existing just to be moulded into whatever his master wanted. He often wished that he could go mad and be stupid, like most slaves, and lose his ability to think. He could mindlessly live a dog-like life and using his body to please his master.

It's a pity that there was always a trace of clarity in his heart, coldly examining his embarrassing self, and then cutting him to pieces. . .

Maybe he had already gone crazy. . .

He couldn’t tell when the fire rose slowly. The temperature of the potion was getting hotter and hotter. Yue Wuhuan’s face also became hotter and hotter, but he couldn’t feel the scorching heat and dipped his head into the bloody-red potion until water flooded up his nose and he couldn't breathe. He didn't want to get up, hoping to just stay submerged forever so that the hot water could clean the filth off his body, preferably right down to his bones.

Song Qingshi noticed something was wrong from the quietness behind him. He turned his head and found that he had been distracted when they were speaking and did not control the Red Lotus fire well. The water temperature rose several degrees and it was so hot that Yue Wuhuan had disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Song Qingshi didn't move cautiously, got up and rushed over, reaching into the tank to get the person out.

The wet beauty was dragged into his arms. His eyes were closed and his limbs drooped feebly. His long curling hair clung to his fair skin, dripping onto the ground, making the Acacia Seal on his back shimmer. Song Qingshi's mind was clear. He quickly laid the person on the ground, confirmed he still had a pulse and started CPR.

Yue Wuhuan spit up water and opened his eyes. He was surprised to find that Song Qingshi’s face was so close to his. He could even see his own reflection in his clear, black eyes. Because of the heat from the tank, Song Qingshi's eyes were heated and red, with water droplets clinging to his long eyelashes. He looked like a naive and innocent boy, nothing like an ancestor of the Nascent Soul sect who had practiced for nearly a thousand years, deceiving and cheating death itself.

He hadn't recognized the other party's true identity by the river at the time. He had wanted to sympathize with a man who would never experience an unjust death.

Yue Wuhuan's thoughts became more and more chaotic. He curled up subconsciously, and all kinds of messy memories flashed in front of him. The tenderness in his chest and the remaining warmth on his lips made him a little confused between reality and his memories as if he had returned to when he was punished by his masters.

Scholar-Tyrant Song almost failed his class, so scared that his soul almost flew away. His movements were as fierce as a tiger, relying entirely on instinct. After Yue Wuhuan woke up, he breathed a sigh of relief. However, he realized that there were many ways to treat drowning in the world of cultivating immortals, and there was no need to use modern first aid at all.

He wouldn't be able to clearly explain this. . .

It was standard for medical students to perform CPR on a drowning victim. Regardless of whether it was someone beautiful or ugly, a child or an old man, he would do it without hesitation. Song Qingshi was a little embarrassed that he hadn't figured out the best first aid technique for the immortal world ahead of time, but he can worry about that later. He just had to figure out how to explain it.

Yue Wuhuan had lost the focus in his eyes. He slowly unfolded his body, no longer covering it up, like a fish that was forcibly dragged ashore to die, preparing to be slaughtered.

Song Qingshi quickly turned his face away, closed his eyes, and apologized honestly: "I'm sorry, I made a mistake with the temperature of the water."

"It's not Master's fault," Yue Wuhuan's eyes were open, but he couldn't make out anything around him. He was listening, but he couldn't understand what was being said. He repeated his standard answer, "It's my fault, it's my fault. . ."

This is the truth that he had paid a heavy price to learn and had been instilled in him over and over again, always reminding him how to live.

"Wuhuan, you are so beautiful, you were born to be played with."

"Wuhuan, it's your body that seduces men, so it must be abused."

"Wuhuan, it's because you are so aloof that it makes me not want to stop."

"Wuhuan, you are a monster born for sex."

"Yue Wuhuan, it's all your fault."

"Yue Wuhuan, it's all your fault."

. . .

"My fault, my fault, my fault. . ." Yue Wuhuan kept repeating numbly, "It's all my fault."

Because he was the wrong that existed in the world.

Song Qingshi took off his robe and put it on Yue Wuhuan, and suddenly realized that the mental state of the person in front of him was very fragile, as though he were caught in a terrifying trap. He thought for a while and gritted his teeth. He stretched out his hand to slap him but hesitated, so he got up and brought a bucket of cold water next to him. He used the freezing technique and poured it down suddenly over his head. Yue Wuhuan was shocked by the cold, and his mind cleared somewhat. Song Qingshi took the opportunity to give him the Tranquil Mind Spirit Calming Pill to take.

"Master?" Yue Wuhuan came to his senses, a little confused.

"It's okay." Song Qingshi took the towels and clothes he had prepared earlier, wrapped him up layer and layer like a dumpling, and then gave a rational explanation, "You were hallucinating because you almost drowned."

Yue Wuhuan nodded blankly.

Song Qingshi determined that he had wrapped the dumpling tight enough. He stopped, satisfied, and ordered: "Wear more in the future."

Yue Wuhuan looked at him and asked anxiously: "This slave can wear more?"

Song Qingshi eagerly educated him: "Autumn is coming soon. It's going to be cold. You must wear more to avoid catching a cold."

"Thank you Master for your pity." Yue Wuhuan responded softly as soon as he was sure that he was not toying with him. He clutched his clothes tightly. For some reason, he suddenly remembered that when he first entered Golden Phoenix Manor, he was forced to take off all his clothes and was reduced to being a plaything.

Now, this seemingly deceptive man had personally helped him put on his clothes piece by piece, as though he were trying to convince him of something. . .

Because the medicated bath had been interrupted, the effect had not been fully achieved.

Song Qingshi busied himself adding water to the medicine tank and re-adjusting the temperature.

Yue Wuhuan sat quietly on the ground watching him work for his sake, lost in thought. Suddenly, he later realized that the never-ending burning sensation in his body had died down. He moved his body slightly and was surprised to find that the sensitivity caused by drugs had also greatly decreased, and the friction of the cloth was no longer causing him discomfort.

He tried to find an answer, but couldn't understand it. He finally plucked up the courage to ask, "Master, what is the purpose of the Prince's Plume Expelling Decoction. . .?"

"Huh?" Song Qingshi stopped and froze for a while. He found that he had again fallen into the scholar-tyrant's bad habit. His mind was moving too fast. He always felt that others would understand as long as he gave a name or an answer, regardless of whether others were following his thoughts or not.

Song Qingshi was a good academic who knew how to accept his mistakes and correct them. He reorganized his words several times in his mind and chose the simplest explanation, "Your body has been corroded by many drugs, so it causes great discomfort. The Prince's Plume Expelling Decoction can be used to remove the drug residues in your body. This medicinal bath needs to be taken five times, and the last two times will be taken with Muscle Generating Flower and Snow Toad Cake added to help repair the old wounds. When that happens, it might be itchy and uncomfortable but we can't use anesthetics. Don’t worry, you just need to endure that stage, and the body will return to its original state. . ."

Song Qingshi couldn’t bear to say it: Those people didn’t care about whether Yue Wuhuan lived or died. All kinds of aphrodisiacs were used uncontrollably on him, causing conflicts of various drug properties in his body and residual excess. If the drugs had continued to be used, he wouldn't have made it another few years.

"I was overdosed on drugs. . . Yes, they thought I was boring," Yue Wuhuan wrapped his clothes tightly around his frame, reluctant to let go. He hesitated for a long time but decided to control the unwillingness in his heart and explain clearly what Song Qingshi would figure out sooner or later. He was so confused that he once again forgot how he was supposed to address himself, "Master, without the medicine, my body will not respond to men. You won't be able to find pleasure in me. I-I'm not used to those things, only with the help of drugs. . ."

Song Qingshi interrupted his incoherent speech: "Don't do things that make you uncomfortable."

"You don't need to be nice to me." The more Yue Wuhuan opened his heart, the more fear he felt. He was like a bewildered child, desperately saying, "I have nothing, the only thing I can give you is this body. . ."

Song Qingshi realized that he wasn't in a good emotional state right now and turned away. He knew he should do psychological intervention now, but the words in his heart that he had practiced thousands of times all disappeared the minute he opened his mouth. He couldn't say anything sweet and comforting. He was clearly extremely upset, but in the end, his thoughts could only be condensed into two words: "You have."

The Yue Wuhuan in his heart was the kid who had practiced his swordsmanship under the peach blossom tree, the boy who dreamt of becoming a cultivator with a mortal body.

The Yue Wuhuan he saw in his eyes was a soaring phoenix in the heavens, the brightest star in the night, but with its wings broken and covered in dust.

Song Qingshi walked step by step, firm in every step.

Yue Wuhuan tried to force himself to calm down, but he couldn't stop his body from trembling, and he wanted to retreat.

Song Qingshi squatted down on his knees and looked meaningfully into his eyes.

Yue Wuhuan felt that he couldn't retreat.

Song Qingshi promised word by word: "I will and return to you whatever you had before, and I will give you everything you want."

Yue Wuhuan's breathing became short. He still couldn't understand what this promise meant, but he understood the seriousness and determination in Song Qingshi's eyes. He asked carefully: "What do you need me to do?"

Song Qingshi asked: "Don't try to commit suicide again, okay?"

Yue Wuhuan thought for a long time and finally nodded.

[marlahey]

(and I'm feeling like) it was only ever you

a little voice fic pairings/characters: bess/samuel, general ensemble, ella the pupper being loved the most warnings: language, excessive sexual tension episode tags: fills in some of many gaps between 1.08 sea change and 1.09 sing what I can’t say cause I got wine drunk instead of finishing this before the finale as planned. +post-finale rating/warnings: explicit. read: resolved sexual tension aka les sexy times.  lyrical title courtesy of: part of me – by the coast (watch their fanvid set to this song and prepare to cry)  notes: so @brilligbraelig told me there was no fluffy fic in the tag, which– sorry. we’ve been in sad time hours for WEEKS and I blame the writers for never giving bess a moment’s peace. I’ve never really been one for cavity-inducing sweetness, not because I don’t love some pure joy, but as a writer I’m always a little more interested in the messier moments that just enough longing brings. if the question is ‘how many times do bess and samuel need to share a bed?’ the answer is yes.   this is for the samuel and bess protection squad on twitter (join us!) for being the coolest group of people ever throughout this wild ride, and also for @missgoalie75 and her love of colton’s bedroom eyes.  p.s: sometimes I ignore capitalization rules at will because of the vibe. 

*

bess is tired.

saint c’s is quiet tonight; al shoos her away from the bar with a stern, surprisingly fatherly firmness and hands her a tray of shots. she blinks at him. there aren’t any parties of four left. he points at samuel, prisha, and benny loitering at the back of the club until she finishes. bess doesn’t follow. al sighs. “go have one with your friends on me, okay kid? i swear, watching you stress out sometimes is gonna give me an ulcer before my next birthday.”  bess stammers a thank you and walks off with the alcohol before he can change his mind. she should apologize, she thinks. he’s been nothing but kind to her despite all the ways in which bess is hardly employee of the month right now. she should start an apology tour at the table, where prisha’s head is thrown back with laughter at something benny is saying, his hands outspread. these people are too good to her and she doesn’t deserve it, sometimes.  samuel notices her first (like always it seems), tracking her progress across the room. he tilts his head, a silent okay? and she moves her mouth in an approximation of a smile. his own lips quirk, like he’s trying to smother a laugh. she should be annoyed; she’s just grateful they aren’t fighting anymore— or worse yet, that it’s weird.  they still haven’t talked about that night. samuel seems perfectly content to pretend it never happened, except for the way he touches her with so much more ease than before— like he no longer has to hesitate before he’s pulling her in, taking her hand, squeezing her shoulder or the bend of her elbow in a way that’s more reassuring than bess can really describe.  maybe there’s a song in there somewhere.  “special delivery,” she announces at the approach. “drink fast, before al regrets giving us these.”  “my man, my man,” benny croons. “we love you boss!” he calls, twisting to find al rolling his eyes from behind the register. the shots clink on the tabletop. bess hesitates, just a second, before leaning in to toast prisha. samuel’s eyes meet hers again over the rim of his glass. she tosses her head back before she can overthink any of it. “anyone want another?”  benny and prisha grin; samuel shakes his head. bess does the mental math back to her last meal. one more certainly wouldn’t tip her over, but she’d be a fool not to recognize her own unsettledness. she springs for second shelf tequila; al smacks her hand away from the limes she’d cut herself not two hours ago.  “no reaching over, you know that.” the closing porter pours and dishes lime and salt with disinterested, immaculate practice. bess presses an extra five into his hand and gets a silent tap on the inside of her wrist in thanks. she’s not normally into the whole process of tequila, but benny enjoys it. something silly in bess hopes that the bursting sting of lime will just wash all her chaos away. by the time she’s tilted her head back down a second time, samuel’s eyes are sliding away. her throat is curiously warmer than liquor normally manages. it feels like she’s caught him at something.  “earth to bess!”  “hmm?”  prisha looks amused, damn her. “you up for it?” “up for what?” benny’s smile is equally conspiratory.  “dancing?” her first instinct is god, no. she and prisha haven’t gone dancing in what feels like years— bess still has a fake ID from the one and only time they snuck into a club at 19 years old, skipping the bar entirely for the pulsing beat of the dance floor. but she deserves this, doesn’t she? after everything? everyone’s looking at her now, probably expecting her to say no (samuel’s definitely expecting her to say no), and maybe bess needs another shot after all because, “sure.” tumbles out of her mouth before she can stop it. prisha and benny high five. samuel’s muted surprise is oddly delightful; bess wants to keep pulling it out of him, suddenly. “you coming too?” she asks. it’s not supposed to be a challenge but he raises one eyebrow as though bess had just asked him to duel. “well i’d be lame if I said no now, wouldn’t i?” that settled, bess excuses herself to grab her things from the back room. when she returns, benny is chatting with their night porter as he divides tips. she has to swallow an anxious lump before she can walk over.  “hey.” “hey.” he returns her tentative smile and she hates herself. “ready to go?” “i’m sorry,” bess blurts. “about the other night. i was so awful to you and you were just—” “bess, hey.” benny’s hands land on her shoulders. “don’t worry about it, okay? i know you have a lot going on right now.” “that’s not an excuse,” she insists. “you’re just being a good friend and a great manager and i shouldn’t have bit your head off for...” for not letting me give up. shame locks the words in her throat. how is it that she was the first person to let go of her own dream? bess has to take a deep breath. “i’m just really sorry.” he just looks at her for a long moment.  “if i forgive you,” benny begins gently, “will you forgive yourself?” the question feels like a sucker punch.  “cause i do, bess.” she can’t remember the last time one of her dearest friends was so serious. “i forgive you, and you gotta forgive yourself now cause we got work to do, yeah?” good god, do not cry. “okay.”  “okay.” benny pulls her into a hug, squeezing tight. “we got you girl, alright? i told you, we’re in this together.” those are familiar words. bess lets them wash over her. how had she forgotten? where had she let herself fall that her friends couldn’t pull her back into the light?  “c’mon.” bess accepts her saint c’s envelope with a grateful smile and benny steers her out of the club, his arm around her shoulders. “there’s fun to be had tonight.” “let’s go, bess!”  she lets prisha drag her forward, laughing despite herself and looping her arm through her best friend’s as they head out into the warm night air.  “where the heck are those boys?” prisha asks at the next corner. benny and samuel of course, are following at a more sedated pace to her one track mind. bess catches samuel’s eye and he smiles in that crooked, amused sort of way she hasn’t seen in ages— not since they shot more love, it feels like. relief is such a strange feeling for the moment, but there it is.  * bess isn’t tired anymore. she has no idea when she became such a homebody (though louie’s social worker may thoughts) but her exhaustion from the day seems to disappear the moment the bass finds a home behind her ribs. prisha presses a tiny glass into her hand and bess doesn’t think.  the vodka sears on the way down. it makes her gasp a little, like a livewire shock to the system. bess can only look up to see samuel wave from the bar before benny’s dragging her onto the floor; she loses sight of him in the crush of bodies and the pulse of the music carries her away.  samuel’s still there, some two or three songs later. just before they lock eyes, bess notices something very serious in his expression, something she can’t put into words fast enough, that draws a strange shiver from the base of her spine.  then he smiles, familiar laugh lines and narrowed eyes, and it’s gone.  bess remembers the way he’d so easily coaxed her into a silly dance set to their own music. have things gotten so strange between them that they could never go back there? not if she has anything to say about it. “I’m not drunk enough yet,” he objects, but his fingers close around hers even as he says it and she knows she’s won. samuel follows her so easily back to benny and prisha– like he’d follow her anywhere maybe, if she asked, and then suddenly bess is the one not quite drunk enough—  and then the beat pulls them in again.  it’s silly at first, just like before. at one point samuel and benny do the chicken dance to a hip-hop song and bess thinks she might die with laughter. she presses against prisha, hips and shoulders. her best friend spins her out; bess nearly stumbles but samuel is there, catching her by the elbows, drawing her in with that same teasing smile that had eased her nerves on that warm summer afternoon. she can see the memory of it reflected in his eyes. bess wants to fall into it headfirst. she steps closer just as samuel pulls her in; her hand lands on the back of his neck; his fingertips slip under the hem of her top and brush the shy skin of her hip.  samuel pauses, like a silent question, until bess coaxes his body back into the swaying rhythm with her own. her head feels heady, her body overwarm almost, but bess doesn’t want to stop because there it is again, that serious look— bess wants— “dance, dance, dance is my lung—”  “fuck no!” the moment—or whatever that was—grinds to a halt. samuel laughs so hard that she can feel his shoulders shaking. for several seconds they just look at each other, then over at benny who’s having the time of his life, and then bess is doubling over too.  samuel leans close to be heard over the din. “drink?” his breath brushes her ear and bess tries not to shiver, nodding enthusiastically in a vain attempt to cover for herself. they’ve lost prisha and benny to the worst song ever, so samuel keeps a firm grip on her hand as they snake their way back to the bar.  there must be some kind of special on shots tonight. bess can only stare at a bartender pouring no less than twelve in a perfect row for a huge group of women. one is wearing a tiara and white sash. that trying not to laugh smile tilts samuel’s mouth while they wait their turn. the sardine pack of people presses them together from hip to shoulder but he doesn’t seem to mind. the bar curves around in a skinny oval, drinks being served on either side. as servers slide back and forth, bess notices a guy looking at her from across the way. staring, more like it. the glint in his eyes makes her stomach turn. before bess can glare, turn away, or even shudder, samuel’s arm slides around her. his fingertips trace the curves of her rings on the bartop— affectionate, possessive almost. bess turns her head and samuel winks before leaning forward to touch their foreheads together. “pretend i just told you something hilarious.” his mouth hovering over hers is almost too distracting— his free hand pinches her side to help her along and giggles jump out. bess doesn’t resist when samuel tightens his grip and pulls her closer against him. he presses his mouth to her temple just above her ear. “he’s gone.” bess does shudder now, though for a different reason altogether. “thanks.” samuel just squeezes her once before releasing her. their shots arrive finally, amber liquid glowing strangely in the light.  “still good?” he asks, and bess nods firmly. “still good.” she meets his eyes as she brings the shot to her mouth. samuel is still looking at her when she puts the glass back down. inside her, it seems. “c’mon.” he says. samuel looks almost fond now. bess blinks; a trick of the light? is she that tipsy already? “we’d better go find those two.” she just takes his hand and follows.  * bess is... well. she’s not sober.  benny had waved goodbye from an uber outside the club. they’d made it three quarters of the way to the subway station before ananya had called, quickly devolving into an impassioned conversation and prish too, vanished into a cab and promising to call when she got to her— girlfriend’s? house.  “have fun you two!”  and now: “i’m fine, sam.”  his mouth twitches. “don’t think so, b.”  yikes, she hates that. bess rolls her eyes, pointing at her station stairway. “you’re literally going in the opposite direction. it’s like...” she has to look at their cross streets and do the math. “eight stops. at the most.” samuel nods. “all about figure eights. love an even number. let’s go.”  bess knows she should just let this go and stop being so stubborn. but something in her just can’t be stopped. samuel sighs, dragging her by the elbow across the sidewalk, out of the way of a clearly aggrieved businessman who disappears down the steps.  “bess. just tell me something.” it’s hard to meet his eyes, intent as they are. “would you let prisha take the train home by herself tonight? if you were going... I dunno, home with me?”  her stomach flips, surprising, terrifying, thrillingly pleasant. it’s all the shots.  samuel’s ears go pink under the glow of the streetlight. “you know what i mean.” she’s stubbornly quiet; he ducks his head, refusing to be deterred. “bess.” “ugh, no. of course not!” “because you think she can’t take care of herself?” bess rolls her eyes. “she’s my best friend, you know that. it’s just what you do.” “right.” she hates the way samuel’s looking at her now, the way he had when he’d laid all her fears out bare in the close space of his apartment: so certain and so kind. “so why do you think i’d let you take the train home alone?” for a moment, she can only stare. maybe it’s the alcohol, but samuel has never quite looked so vulnerable. bess doesn’t have the right words (maybe there aren’t any) so she just drags him forward by the shoulders. samuel exhales sharply, a faint laugh in her ear, but he wraps both his arms tight around her— an embrace that somehow feels more intimate than their pretence from hours before. bess endeavours not to think about it too much. “c’mon bestie,” she says when she pulls back. samuel does laugh fully this time, wide enough to show his teeth. bess thinks back to the night of their first gig, the sound of his valerie chasing hers in echoes. it’s a wonder anyone’s more stubborn that she is.  samuel ushers her down the stairs with a sweep of his arm and bess laughs too. *   bess loves her dog. she’d convinced samuel he should probably come in for water, or tea, maybe an advil. ella had poked her head out from bess’ room and when she turns around from her perusal of the fridge, bess finds samuel fully sitting on the floor, ella laying between his legs, stroking her head. “who’s my sweetest girl?” he coos.  her heart something funny inside her chest. samuel looks up, his obvious joy so bright in the dim light of the kitchen and bess is nearly choked with the possibility that she’d nearly pushed him too far away to ever see it again.  “bess,” he says, his cheeks dimpling, “her ears are so soft. like, they’re the softest thing i’ve maybe ever felt in my life?”  wonder of wonders.  she can only nod in emphatic agreement. how many shots have they had?  “you’re lucky,” samuel continues, still making ella’s night by never stopping in his affection. bess’ eyes get stuck on his hands, the motion of his fingertips and the turns of his wrists. “my parents never let us have pets and my building doesn’t allow them either.”  “you know ella would love if you came over and pet her all the time.” she gets that muted surprise again, which melts into something bess isn’t sure how to name.  “would you like that, el? hmm?” he leans down to kiss the top of the dog’s head. “wanna spend more time with uncle samuel?” how is it that her most loyal companion is somehow more intimate with samuel than bess is? and why on earth would she ever have a thought like that? “so,” she says, maybe a bit too high-pitched for her own liking (ella looks up at her and bess wants to glare), “we have water, tea, popsicles, half a bottle of jack.” samuel laughs and shakes his head. “i thought we were sobering up?” bess shrugs. “so, popsicle?” he laughs again and it warms her inexplicably all the way to her toes.  they have water, following ella into bess’ room, toeing out of their shoes when she jumps onto the bed. the dog puts her head on samuel’s lap and stares balefully up at him until he resumes his gentle stroking. bess leans back against her wall. she’s looking at ella and pretending she can’t feel the heat of samuel’s gaze on her face. if she thinks too hard about it, bess remembers wishing she could share a moment like this with someone else. she doesn’t regret anything that lead her here, but something in her is too afraid to meet samuel’s eye, like he’d be able to read the truth of that in her face and that she’d have somehow ruined tonight, this quiet moment of warmth and contentment. she leans her head on his shoulder and he turns his cheek into her hair. when bess finally looks up, samuel’s face is vey close.  is he looking at her mouth? is she leaning?  “are you drunk, bess?” he asks softly. she stops. considers. “yes. you?” samuel’s smile is a little rueful. he nods. “i should go.” bess understands. it’s late. they’re tired and inebriated. he has to go all the way back to his. they almost... and yet she says, “stay.”  he blinks. “what?”  this might be a terrible idea. “stay.” “but—” she rolls her eyes. “what makes you think i’d let you go home alone either?” the surprise is plain now. he looks that almost-vulnerable again. bess is oddly satisfied. “are you sure?” it’s strangely hard to keep his eye even as she points out, “we’re fine, right?” he nods again, a little slower. “and it’s not like we’ve never shared a bed.” when bess finally manages it, samuel’s gaze is very soft. “true.” and just when she thinks he’s going to refuse her still, he says, “okay. thanks.” how do you tell someone out that you just don’t want to be alone out loud?  thankfully samuel doesn’t make her voice it. he just smiles as bess gathers something approximating pyjamas and crosses the room. “sorry i don’t have anything that would fit you,” (he snorts and she’s warmed) “but you know, make yourself comfortable however. come get a toothbrush from under the sink.” and so that’s how they end up side-by-side in the cramped bathroom of her and prisha’s apartment, brushing their teeth. samuel makes faces at her in the mirror and it should be strange, to be t-shirt and shorts/boxers open with him. but he’s seen down into the root of who she is, so isn’t all this less? he’s humming something familiar as she washes her face, catching her surprised reflection.  “it’s yours.” bess casts her mind back. “from–” “that first night, yeah.” she nearly drops her face towel. bess has never shown him that song. samuel shakes his head with a chuckle, a familiar you’re a weirdo. “it would be just like you to play something that gets eight bars stuck in my head for months and never sing it again.” “i...” bess can’t pinpoint a reason besides her own fear, like a karmic penance for one of the most humiliating nights of her life. “i can’t believe you remember.” there’s a truth in his eyes that neither of them are willing to admit they can see.  “wanna work on it?” she asks impulsively, determined now to redraw a better memory, “maybe tomorrow?” samuel’s grin is so wide it’s almost hard to take in all at once. “this mean you’re gonna actually do that open mic?” bess shrugs. she needs to escape this tiny room all of a sudden. “maybe.” he doesn’t push her further and she’s grateful. samuel hesitates at the edge of her bed as bess pulls up the cover.  “oh my god, just get in the bed samuel.” and he does. their knees touch. bess turns out the light but there’s still just enough to see him looking at her. drunkenness has made her warm and sleepy.  “what?” “for the record,” he says, “i know what i think of you.” it feels like they’re teetering on an edge. “cool grandpa?” they laugh so hard that ella jumps from the foot of the bed. samuel looks so fond that bess doesn’t know what to do with herself. “yeah. that’s it.” “night samuel,” she whispers.  “night bess.” * (she wakes up before the sun, tangled up in him.  for once, rather than overthink it, bess just closes her eyes and goes back to sleep.) * bess can’t stop smiling. before she could even look at samuel after getting offstage, benny had lifted her off her feet and proceeded to all but bulldoze everyone in the club to get her in front of jeremy’s record label contact. could he tell that she’d just been kissed within an inch of her life? it feels like it’s written all over her face. bess can barely remember what she said, but his personal contact card is currently burning a whole though her purse. al buys them a round. (she finds ethan lingering in the back. what he says to her is somehow a surprise and not both at once. what she says to him, in the end, feels long overdue.) prisha insists everyone come back to their place to celebrate, and they pile into ubers. louie exalts her as a true artist the entire ride and even phil seems impressed. true to form though, he’s a roledex of weather facts as bess and prisha frantically pull out every candle or flashlight in the apartment; their lights flicker ominiously every so often as the storm beats down their windows. benny puts a playlist together and tries to order pizza. by some miracle, it actually arrives; everyone pools together for a 150% tip. so it feels like ages before bess looks up to find samuel leaning against the alcove of her living room, watching as louie begins a spirited debate on the best numbers in hamilton.  bess nods her head toward the door of her bedroom. she’s expecting him to make a silly face with his eyebrows or hesitate, but samuel’s mouth just curves up on one side, like that’s all he’s allowing himself, and follows. “for the record,” he says as the sounds of the party fade a little behind them, “the answer will always be satisfied. no contest.” god, how had she never seen him before? her bedside lamp is still working. bess fishes out a pale white whale from childhood, one that changes colour as you tap. she grins at samuel, who’s leaning against her closed door and smiling like he’s not even sure what to make of her.  “you’re incredible, you know that?” her face heats, pride and embarrassment both at once. “so are you. i can’t believe we got through that song.” “all you, bess.”  she wants to roll her eyes, but refrains. “the electric was a great idea.” samuel’s eyes drop when he smiles; the familiar humility in it reminds bess of the reason she wanted to talk to him in the first place.  “i know what you did tonight. before you showed up.” he looks up then, a little sharply. samuel’s always had a good poker face but bess can see it still, that guarded look. “what did i do, bess?” saying it out loud makes her feel like she’s in a movie. bess steps forward. “you told ethan to come. for me.” “are you upset?” “no. i just want to understand why.” samuel’s gaze is as steady as it’s ever been. “i just want you to be happy.”  she feels unraveled, somehow.  “then why did you...” even in the poor light, he flushes. “why did you kiss me?” samuel looks at the floor, then back at bess. her heart beats in double time. “he didn’t show, or so I thought. and I didn’t want to...” he laughs lightly, almost at himself. “throw away my shot. I guess I wasn’t really expecting you to—” try to press him into the wall? “to kiss me back, or even what that might mean, but I wanted to show you, or tell you that—” she’s close enough to touch him now. samuel’s hands cup her elbows, very gently, like he needs to ground himself. but he looks bess right in the eye. “even if you didn’t want me, i’d choose you first. every time.”  her heart free-falls.  “bess.” he squeezes a little, catching her eyes. how long have they been standing in this moment of after? “please say something.” “i told him we couldn’t work,” she says in a rush. “and i don’t even know if it was really because you and I—” bess stumbles but samuel hangs on, his grip on her unwavering, “but i think part of me always knew it was just...like, a fantasy? we barely even knew each other and i always hated myself a little for being that girl trying to steal someone else’s partner and i wasn’t dealing with any of my shit until—” samuel just waits. the realization feels too big, but there’s no going back now. “until i met you.” he looks almost stricken. bess lets out a strange, wondrous kind of laugh. she puts her hand on samuel’s chest. she’s the one who needs steadying, now. he draws her closer without looking away from her face, like he’s helpless to it.  bess can’t remember the last time she felt so sure of anything. all those those expressions that always felt hidden in his eyes seem so plain, now: surprise, fear, hope. “i choose you, samuel. though i probably don’t even deserve to.”  she can see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. samuel’s hand brushes her hair back away from her face, tracking the curve of her ear. just before she’s about to freak out, he asks, “are you drunk, bess?” she nearly laughs. “no. are you drunk, samuel?” he shakes his head. she understands that serious look, now. it’s wanting. he wants her.  samuel goes to pull her the rest of the way in— “bess!”  louie’s voice and a loud knock on the door springs them apart. the lights go out.  “bess, we’re going now. and the lights are out. do you have a source of light in there? are you coming to say goodbye?” samuel lets out a long, low “fuck.” she has to clap her hand over her mouth. his nearly silent laugh ghosts over her skin as he presses his face into the curve of her neck.  (samuel kisses her there, just once, but it’s enough that her knees tremble a little and she can feel the shape of his smile too.)  “i’ll be right out!” bess calls to her brother. his shadow moves away from the door. hysterical giggles shake her shoulders. samuel’s hands slide up to hold her face. “do you wanna—” “come home with me.” she can barely make out his features in the dark (except for the want) but bess’ stomach drops anyway. the irony of no electricity is funny when she feels like sparks might burst from beneath her skin.  “okay.” * bess is deliriously happy. samuel puts down his guitar and barely lets the door close before he’s pressing bess against it with both hands. his palms are heavy and warm on her hipbones; bess wants to rock up against him but there’s a certain thrill in it, how strong he seems.  she has no idea the last time she was kissed like this.  despite how fierce it feels, samuel lets her lead. he doesn’t open his mouth until she does, touches his tongue tentatively against hers at first pass, tugs so gently on her lip with his teeth until she makes a noise like a whimper.  she should tell him maybe, that samuel made her completely forget herself, back in the alcove at saint c’s. but then bess just lets her hands find their way back into his now slightly damp hair. she’ll just relive it instead. she scrapes her nails over his scalp and samuel’s breath comes up short; it returns in something that sounds like a groan, or a snarl, and oh.  bess has to take deep breaths of her own when he pulls back, a wide-eyed glance to her face to make sure she’s alright. she can only nod. samuel’s fingertips squeeze her waist as some of that urgency seems to fade from his eyes. he trails his mouth slowly from her lips to her jaw; she tilts her head instinctively to give him room and samuel finds that same spot on her neck from her own bedroom.  his teeth and tongue press a little harder than before; he gets a gasp for his efforts. her legs feel unsteady again. bess grabs at the open sides of his button-down until samuel shrugs out of it. it drops to their feet. he doesn’t protest when bess pushes him gently, walking backwards across the apartment with his arm tight around her.  he doesn’t let go when his legs meet the edge of his bed. bess would fall into him if not for samuel keeping them upright. he drops to sit, pulling them apart, and finally bess has to take stock of herself. samuel’s face is so open, his smile so wide in a way she’s never seen before.  “still good?” he asks. bess nods.  “still good?” samuel laughs lightly. “i’m great, bess.” he reaches for her hand, his thumb brushing each of her rings in turn. “we can stop whenever you want.” she’s the one standing but bess feels smaller, strangely. instead of replying, bess steps out of her shoes. samuel’s eyes seem to darken as she slides her jacket from her shoulders and lets it pool on the floor. bess leans down and brings one knee to the bed, by his hip, balancing herself with one hand on his shoulder. samuel’s inhale is impossibly loud as he instinctively supports her with a sliding grip up the back of her thigh. bess’ skirt isn’t that short but she’s glad she didn’t trade it for jeans before she left. samuel’s face betrays how pleased he seems by her choice.  once she’s finished effectively straddling him, bess looks down from her perch.  “hi.” samuel’s knuckles stroke up and down her leg. goosebumps ripple and he smiles. “hi.” bess takes his face in both her hands and leans down as samuel tilts his chin up to meet her. she’ll never tire of kissing him. it feels like she can’t get close enough; he must have the same idea because his arms wrap around her back until bess is sitting firmly in his lap, their hips slotted together.  “can i touch you?” samuel asks against her mouth. bess nods, maybe too quickly, but she can’t bring herself to be embarrassed.  guitar callused fingers slide beneath her top. samuel reaches the slim band of her lacy bralette. he pauses, but bess leans into his hand and then he’s tracing the curve of her breast. his thumb brushes a little roughly over her nipple; bess feels an abrupt ache between her legs. “that seems pretty,” samuel murmurs in her ear, like a casual observation. “it’s a matching set,” she replies, trying not to sound too breathless. “for luck.” he pulls back with wide eyes. bess wants to laugh but she’s too busy dealing with this rush of blood to her face. she sits up carefully so they don’t knock heads and reaches for the edges of samuel’s t shirt first; he drags it over his head in one smooth, practiced motion. shit, he’s hot.  he’s staring as bess unfolds herself to stand back on the floor (her legs are still unsteady but he doesn’t need to know that) and goes to pull off her own shirt. samuel’s eyes don’t leave her face until the fabric coming over her head pulls her from view. when bess blinks him back into focus, he’s gone a little slack-jawed. she nods at his jeans and the speed at which samuel divests himself of them has her biting back a giggle. bess’ face feels hot but there’s a frisson of pride that straightens her spine. she’s not even half an arm’s length away from him. samuel touches her stomach, just above the waistband of her skirt. “can I?” bess has to swallow before she can nod. just like before, samuel stares at her face until the last half of her outfit joins the rest of their clothes in a heap. samuel’s eyes trail from her eyes to her feet and back. it takes everything in bess not to fidget. she expects to see heat in his expression but there’s only wonderment and tenderness.  “fuck, you’re so beautiful.” she has no idea what to do with that. samuel tugs her into his lap this time, intent. his kiss is searing. bess rocks into him, just once, just a little. that grip on her thighs returns, tighter. bess can only gasp a laugh into his mouth when samuel stands, holding her up against him, and turns to lower her with a kind of breathtakingly slow care onto his bed.  bess lands on her back, samuel now the one leaning over her. desire coils low in her stomach. he gently shifts her hips so they’re both actually parallel with the long edges of the comforter.  she feels inexplicably, unbearably, fond of him.  then samuel looks away. he exhales, like he’s embarrassed.  bess frowns in concern. “what is it?” samuel shakes his head. “when you look at me like that, I can’t catch my breath.” oh. it feels so strange to be the steadier one. bess reaches for his cheek, drawing samuel’s eyes back to her. “guess you’ll just have to distract me, then.” he laughs, but then as he leans down, samuel’s smile fades and bess remembers. he wants her. she can feel it. his hand slides, pleasantly rough, over her skin, sliding beneath the band of her bralette. bess seizes samuel’s lip in her teeth as he strokes back over her breast. he teases her nipple and the moment bess manages to wriggle out of the garment and tosses it away, samuel’s swapped his hand with his tongue, her other breast now teased by his clever fingers. she gasps again and she can feel him smirking. samuel diverts his mouth’s attention to her other side. bess focuses on her breathing. the storm still lashes against the windows but it feels like nothing compared to the roaring in her blood. bess slides her fingers up the nape of samuel’s neck and a few things happen at once: samuel’s free hand finds the damp junction between her legs; bess pulls his hair a tiny bit harder than intended; his teeth catch her nipple with just enough firmness that bess’ back nearly arches off the bed, along with a keening noise she didn’t even realize she could make. samuel freezes immediately. he looks up and bess has no idea what her face looks like, but all she can say is, “do that again.” he leans back down, his teeth scraping over her other breast; when he tugs, bess does too, so hard that samuel hisses.  “sorry,” she pants, “sorry.” he shakes his head, a firm denial. it might be the dark, the lightning, or the fact that bess is so fucking turned on, but samuel’s expression has veered far past wanting— into hunger. he practically leaps back up to her mouth, a kiss so fierce that their teeth nearly clack together. “your hands,” he says, like it enrages him almost, “in my hair, holy fuck.”  oh was right. “you’re one to talk about hands,” bess retorts. “can you please just–” samuel leans back. “can i please just what?” he looks smug the bastard. it would be like them to bicker in the middle of sex, wouldn’t it? but his tone is so serious when he says, “tell me what you want, bess.” that she has to squeeze her thighs together.  “please touch me.” “where?”  bess is going to kill him. samuel touches her cheek with surprising gentleness, and kisses her there. “here?” he does the same to her neck. “here?” her shoulder. he marks the valley of her breasts, the slope of her navel, the jut of her pelvic bone. “samuel,” bess says. it sounds like a plea but she doesn’t care. she can only reach his shoulder now, the back of his neck. he may have shivered but she can’t tell because she’s too busy trying to keep it together.  he finally finds the elastic of her underwear.  “okay, bess?” this question isn’t a joke. bess makes sure to meet samuel’s eye; the mixture of that desire and care makes her dizzy. “yes. please.” when his fingers have finally slid inside her, bess says “samuel,” at a level of breathlessness she only ever gets when she sings. he touches her with the same care and confidence as he does any of their instruments, until her legs tremble; samuel finds a beat with his tongue against her clit that’s so good bess has to cover her mouth when she comes.  samuel crawls back up the bed towards her. he leaves a kiss on the inside of her knee, and her shoulder, just an inch or two from where he had the first night she’d stayed here. bess feels very safe, suddenly.  “still good?” samuel asks again, a more raw edge to the question this time. bess can only affirm silently as she leans up a little to kiss him. she can taste herself in his mouth, can feel the weight of his arousal against her. bess presses up and samuel groans.  heat pulses again between her legs. “do you want,” bess starts, putting her hands on him, straining against his boxers. samuel’s whole body seems to twitch. he pulls her wrists away though with a bruising kiss.  “i’m just dying to be inside you, if that’s cool.” her stomach flips.  “very cool.” samuel smiles and goes willingly when bess rolls them over. he reaches blindly into a bedside drawer. bess catches sight of a pair of glasses and makes a mental note to ask about them when her mind’s not currently so occupied.  “shit, are these even in date?” samuel squints at the packet in his hand. “god, have i not had sex in this long?” bess can’t help but laugh. they giggle their way through confirming the expiry date, getting rid of samuel’s boxers, and rolling on the condom in the dark. for a moment they just look at each other. bess hasn’t ached like this for anyone in a long time.  “tell me what you want, samuel.” his adam’s apple bobs as he sits up. “c’mere.”  samuel pulls her forward and bess lifts her hips to line them up. he swallows her tiny gasp as she sinks down onto him; it’s been a while for her, too. samuel anchors her with one hand splayed across her back, waiting silently until bess has adjusted to the stretch.  bess rocks down experimentally and he makes an almost strangled noise in the back of his throat. a soft kiss lands on her forehead, a starkly tender inverse to nearly everything that’s happened so far, and maybe even to what they’re about to do. it settles bess and breaks her open both at once.  “okay?” he asks carefully. she nods, wrapping both her arms around his neck. “you’re amazing, you know that?” samuel murmurs over her lips. his own hips swing up towards hers and wow. “bess.” she was right, before. he’s strong.  they get a rhythm going quickly enough, like another harmony that comes so easy. the angle has bess’ clit pressing with beautiful pressure against samuel’s pelvis; she clenches down just as he thrusts up. he curses and it just stokes that flame hotter inside of her. after a certain point bess can’t even speak anymore. she has both her hands in samuel’s hair and he’s latched back onto the curve between her neck and shoulder, teeth and tongue and words like, fuck and tight and good and bess— “samuel i—” he looks up at her face like he wants to commit it to memory.  “bess.” and she’s gone again. * when they’ve caught their breath and tidied up, bess and samuel find themselves side by side in his bathroom, a sweet reflection of that night from weeks ago. she’s glad she thought to bring her toothbrush. samuel keeps staring at her in the mirror.  “what?”  does she have toothpaste on her face? he just shakes his head, the way he does when he laughs to himself.  “nothing. you just look better in my t-shirts than i do.”  bess rolls her eyes but her face feels hot anyway. “weirdo.” it feels good not to have to wonder as they head back to his bed. samuel drags her immediately towards him beneath the covers, his cool hands greedy beneath her borrowed sleepwear as her back curves against his chest. he plants a minty kiss above her shoulder-blade where his shirt’s slipped down. bess shivers and he leaves another on the back of her neck. “sorry,” he murmurs, and bess flips around to look at him.  “for what?” the storm broke finally, and amber light of the street through his windows feels just as safe and warm as it had before. but samuel is the one who seems afraid, now.  “i don’t want to freak you out.” “you’re not freaking me out,” bess insists. “tell me.” samuel hesitates. bess reaches out to touch his face.  “hey. i don’t scare that easy either, you know.” he exhales a faint laugh. it’s so rare to see samuel seem unsure, or fragile. it makes bess feel thrillingly off-centre.  “i don’t think i’ll ever be able to stop wanting you.”  she’s falling.  “and not just—” samuel nods vaguely at their general closeness. “this. i mean all of it. the music, your family, everything. i know it’s probably a bad idea to start things with bandmates or whatever but i just—”  bess doesn’t let him finish. she can only pour all her affection for him into a kiss, taking samuel’s huff of surprise in her mouth even as he reaches for her waist to pull her closer, then on top of him.  when she pulls away he seems a little dazed.  “you make the bad days okay,” bess says firmly and samuel smiles with such near-adoration that she understands it now, that loss of air. “so we’ll figure it out, okay? one day at a time.” samuel nods. “okay.”  and he pulls her back down. * bess wakes up with words in her mind.  samuel’s grip is so tight that at first she doesn’t think he’ll let her go. but bess manages to slide away, picking up his hand gently and lifting his arm. she looks at his sleeping face and kisses his knuckles.  samuel’s lips curve a little and if she looks too hard she could be in love with him already.  she knows where he keeps blank sheet paper in his production area. bess finds a pen and a coffee table book about new york parks; she sits on the edge of the bed to scrawl, humming to herself.  she doesn’t realize he’s up until a familiar press of lips lands on her neck. bess will never stop shivering and samuel will apparently never stop smiling about it.  “hi,” he mumbles. his voice is low and gravely with sleep. bess files that away under the list of things that does something to her. samuel hooks his chin over her shoulder and bess lifts her work to accommodate his arms sliding around her waist. “new idea?” bess nods. “thinking about what you said to me.”  she’s circled can’t catch my breath at the top of the page. samuel goes very still. it feels like it could crush them, the weight of this kind of intimacy. but at least bess doesn’t have to carry it alone. “wanna write with me?”  she turns her head to look at him; samuel’s surprise will never not be thrilling.  “will you let me add a back beat?”  he’s already reaching for his guitar. bess laughs.  “i could maybe be persuaded.” the way his eyebrow lifts makes her stomach jump. “duly noted.” (they do finish the song, eventually.  the morning just gets away from them first.) 

[dragonleesupporter]

The Many Sides of Murder Part I

A/N: Eyy I’m not dead, I promise. I’ve just been smacked around by life a bit. Anyway, this a fanfiction based off of an rp between me and some good homies, shout out to good homies! I’ve been wanting to write this for a very long time.

WARNING: Not for the faint of heart! Also, no t-community stuff in here!

Patton was walking out of the office building after a long day at work. He was exhausted, but he’d have his beautiful rose bush to look forward to when he got home.

            “Rosebud…” He said to himself jokingly, shivering in the cold.

          One of the first to come to work, and one of the last to leave… Patton looked across the vast parking lot and saw his grey, rusty car sitting on the far end.

            Sigh.

            As he continued walking, he heard what sounded like scuffling behind the ginormous square garbage bins to his left. He had gotten used to the noises the critters made at night, working the closing shift. Raccoons, possums, skunks, hell- sometimes the homeless stopped by to check the garbage for valuable items.

          After several moments of listening to the sound, Patton started to pick up on small alterations, like heavy breathing and shushing of sort. Yep, a homeless or drunk. No doubt about it. Suddenly, a shape leaped out in front of him, running in the same direction as his car. Patton froze, his voice caught in his throat. There was no way he could break into-

          “Your efforts are futile.” He heard a monotone voice call out from behind the garbage bins. He then saw what he could only perceive as a living knife launch from the same place the other shape had come from. In mere moments, the man who had started running, was now motionless on the asphalt. The other shape looked down at the body before looking up at Patton.

          Patton’s instincts finally kicked in and he turned tail to run in the opposite direction. Even in the dim light of the widely-spaced street lamps, he could tell he had made direct eye contact with whoever just attacked that other person. The sooner he made himself invisible, the better!

            “The tree line!” He thought to himself. “There! If I can make it there, then maybe- “

 Too late. He felt a harsh shove from behind has he lost his balance mid-stride, falling onto his chest. He then felt a hand grasp his face, some kind of cloth covering his mouth. He took in a deep breath to scream for help, but as soon as he did, his consciousness faded into an almost peaceful oblivion.

 “That was close.” Logan silently scolded himself as he carried Patton on his shoulders back to the body of Orlando. “How could I have let a witness run so far away from the execution site? Utterly useless. I must increase my intake, it seems.”

 He lit the body ablaze and covered his tracks. Every grain of sand out of place was corrected. He was never there. The only thing now was to decide what to do with the witness he had captured. He adjusted his glasses, sighing. It would slow down his current plan, but in order to make it more secure, he would just have to be patient and take the witness into his care. Perhaps he could reason with him, or at least keep him in a place that he wouldn’t cause any trouble.

 …

 Patton woke up in a very awkward position. Both his hands and his ankles were restrained, and he immediately noticed that the hearing on the right side of his head had gone blank.

“N-no… this can’t be real.” He started to feel tears well up in his eyes. “This is just a bad dream… I’m at home safe w-with my rosebush… please, please let it be a dream.”

 “Ah, you’re finally awake.” A chillingly monotone voice sounded from the other side of the room.

 “Wh-what do you want from me?!” Patton blurted out, making an attempt to sound brave and failing somewhat.

 “I don’t want anything from you, good sir… in fact, it’s rather a shame that you had to bear witness to my execution. I do not enjoy this situation any more than you do.” Logan stayed sitting on the opposite side of the room.

 As Patton’s eyes adjusted, he saw a lean, tall figure sat against the few steps that lined the entrance to a hallway just behind him leading into the room. He had milky white skin and clear blue veins running along his arms and legs. Despite the hostility he had seen at his hand, Logan’s face was strangely calm, his eyes grey behind his glasses. The rest of his attire was simply a black suit and pants, fitting his body as tight was possible. No part of his clothing was loose on him. Just as jet black as his attire, his hair was neatly combed back.

 “That being said, I hope we can come to an agreement that benefits both parties.” His grey eyes pierced into Patton’s, reflecting all the apathy the rest of Patton’s left drew to him.

 No one really cared about him… he had no friends… no family other than his brother who hardly visited… no one was coming to save him… he was going to die here.

Logan’s posture stiffened at the sound coming out of Patton.

 “Like heck! I’m not trusting a word you say!” Patton screamed, tears streaming down his face.

 Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I knew this would be an issue… I probably should explain myself…”  

 “No! I am not listening to ANYTHING you have to stay!” Patton’s heart burned with the knowledge that this man could do whatever he wanted to him. He started pulling on his restraints.

 “You know that’s not going to work… I wish I could’ve avoided the restraints, but how else am I supposed to keep her here safely?” Logan got up, slowly walking toward the struggling man before him.

 It was almost hard for Logan to look into his prisoner’s eyes. They were so bright and full of passion and emotion, even behind his contact lenses. His bright blue eyes kindly reflected off of his matching blue t-shirt, also blending well with his worn-out jeans. His bright blonde hair nearly blinded the criminal as he approached, wavy and tangled.

 “Why not just let me go then?! S-stay away from me! Don’t get any closer!” Patton struggled harder as Logan got closer.

 “Calm your nerves, you wiggling worm… I need to ask you a question.” Logan sat down next to the bed Patton was tied to.

“Well, I have nothing better to do. Ask away!” Patton called sarcastically. A small hope inside him told him that if he kept acting tough and hiding just how scared he was, he might be able to find a way out.

 “Is this correct?” Logan held up an ear aid.

 “What do you mean is it correct?” Patton scoffed.

 “Is it the right model? After cleaning up, I realized an ear aid had been knocked out of your head. However, when I found it, it had been broken. I did my best to judge what model it was so I could get another for you. Is this the correct model?” Logan’s monotone voice didn’t help Patton’s mood, however his question did puzzle him.

 “Th-that is the correct model, yes. Why?” Patton looked up at the figure who almost had to look away from his bright cyan blue eyes.

 “Good. I will momentarily untie one of your restraints so you can manually place the ear aid in. As well as take out your contacts. I’m aware they can be painful if you sleep in them.” Logan’s voice changed just a little bit in that moment, and that little bit was all it took.

 “O-okay…” Patton’s body went limp as Logan undid one of his restraints.

 “And no trying to escape, or I’ll knock you out again.” Logan watched him closely as Patton adjusted both his hearing aids and took out his contacts, relaxing significantly from the lack of pain. Afterwards, Logan tied him up again.

“So, are there any bathroom breaks here?” Patton asked sheepishly.

 “Yes. But I’ll only release you if we can gain a mutual sense trust… You see I only restrained you to keep you safe. This is the only place I could keep you from spreading knowledge of my existence. All of these hallways behind me are open to the front door, but they’re all rigged with traps that only I know how to navigate around. This was only set up for defensive measures, but I cannot turn them off now, so they also act a hinderance to your escape. If you were to try and escape, many of those traps would cause you extreme pain, and, in full honesty, I don’t want that.” Logan tapped his chin in thought.

 “Something’s not making sense here.” Patton finally spoke after a long silence. “How come you don’t want to hurt me when you hurt that other person?”

 “That low-life scum can barely be considered a person…” Logan’s voice grew heavy with anger. “Sh-shit!”

 Patton turned to look at his captor to find a surprising sight. Logan, was bent over with a hand firmly pressed to his head. “Damn, it’s wearing off faster!” The criminal rushed over to the opposite side of the room, taking out a syringe.

 Patton watched in horror as Logan plunged the needle into his skin and quickly injected himself, his tenses muscles going lax again. Patton saw, for a brief moment, color in Logan’s eyes before it changed back to the grey he had know for the past fifteen minutes.

 “I apologize for the interruption. But unbeknownst to you, there’s a great difference between you and the man I killed. I would go into detail, but I have an inkling it might disturb you, so until we are better acquainted, I see no reason to explain.” Logan’s posture loosened further. “I should probably start with my name. My name is Logan, and I’ve been on the hunt for a specific group of individuals. The one you saw me take out was one of those individuals.”

 Patton felt odd staring at this man… could even call him that? This THING?

 “Well, my name is Patton, and I’ve been on the hunt for a meaningful life.” He chuckled sadly.

 “What’s funny?” Logan cocked his head.

 “Oh, it was a joke! I like to tell them a lot…”

 “A… joke…” Logan appeared to be lost on what Patton was describing.

 “Yeah. You tell it to people you care about to make them laugh and smile…” Patton looked away from Logan’s eyes, afraid he would become equally apathetic if he continued to stare.

 “And what about searching for a meaningful life is funny?” Logan tapped his chin in thought with a perplexed expression, looking at the ceiling.

 “Oh wait… of course this guy’s not going to understand jokes! He’s a complete psychopath! I need to figure out how to get out of here! He said he would give me access to a bathroom once we gained mutual trust for each other. So, if I pretend to trust him, he might trust me and warrant me access to the bathroom. But the bathroom probably doesn’t have any escape routes. If there isn’t a window or a vent… I might be stuck… unless… he’s lying about the hallways! He must think I’m stupid… if there’s no chance of escape in the bathroom, I’ll abide by his rules until he gets sleepy or needs another one of those needles. Yes! Flawless plan!”

 “I realized that you’re smiling. Is something funny? Did I unknowingly… tell a… joke?” It took Logan a moment to think of the word again.

 “Oh no… I was just thinking about a joke one of my friends told me a couple days ago…” Patton lied.

 “Oh? A memory can make you smile… I forgot that…” Logan looked down at the floor. “Thank you for reminding me.”

 After a few more moments of awkward silence and Patton trying to avoid the gaze of the mad man, his stomach growled loudly.

 “Dammit stomach! This is not the time to be complaining!”

 “Ah, I assumed you would need sustenance before long… luckily I was able to grab some ramen from the store. I know from experience that it’s very filling, if not a little bland in taste. I’ll prepare some…” Logan turned his back to Patton getting a stove heated up.

 “Oh no! I can’t eat anything that monster gives me! It could be poisoned, or laced with something to make me be truthful with him! But if I don’t eat soon, I might start thinking illogically… m-maybe I already am! Dammit, Patton why did you skip your last break last night??”

“To put all doubts to rest, I will also eat from the same brewed pot of ramen… I apologize for the lack of nutrients in this specific dish. But hopefully, if everything goes according to plan, one meal is all you’ll need…” Logan turned around, giving full view of the pot of ramen, stirring it around.

 “Oh Jesus, he’s going to kill me! According to plan?? Only one meal?? That has to be it!”

 “A-and what plan would that be?” The captive muttered nervously, eyeing the noodles like he would a loaded gun.

 “Ah, my apologies. Allow me to explain after I’ve finished undoing your cuffs.” Patton violently flinched away from the criminal as he undid all of his bonds. “Come sit with me, Patton…”

 There was… a hitch in his voice for some reason. Patton couldn’t tell why, but Logan’s perfectly monotone dialogue had broken, just for a second, but he noticed…

 He sat down stiffly on the other side of the pot as Logan poured each half of the brew into their bowls. He took the first bite, fully knowing that Patton wouldn’t eat unless he was certain that the food was safe.

 “Maybe he built up an immunity a poison he put in the brew… ahhh but it smells so good! I can’t get distracted! Think, Patton! Think…”

 Logan continued to eat as Patton played with his food, his thoughts racing. After he had finished the whole bowl, he just sat and stared at Patton, waiting patiently for him to trust the noodles. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity to Patton, he finally took a bite. He had no way of telling time, but from his judgement, Logan would’ve shown some signs of discomfort if the noodles had been poisoned. It was just a risk he’d have to take, considering, just how badly he needed the food. But he also needed something else.

 “M-may I use the restroom?” He asked, looking away from Logan’s piercing eyes.

 “I suppose I have no reason not to trust you in this moment, and you trusted me enough to eat what I made for you. How about a compromise? My original offer was to free you of your cuffs without feeling the need to restrain you again… while also giving you free access to the bathroom… but since I can’t fully trust you in moments to come, even if I can trust you now, I’ll give you access to the restroom but restrain you afterwards, though I’ll make sure your restraints aren’t as tight this time…” Logan explained, eyeing the bruises on Patton’s hands.

 “O-okay… and where is the bathroom?” He was shaking a little.

 “Just to your left. It’s not the most luxurious, but is serves its purpose.” Logan hadn’t even finished his sentence, before the door to the restroom was slammed shut. “I suppose I should clean up this mess…”

 “Dammit! No windows or vents! This room is an oven!” Patton thought to himself while doing his business. “It certainly isn’t a good restroom, but it’s a clean one… and right now, I’m in no place to complain… these walls are pretty thick, he probably can’t hear what I’m doing… meaning, if I hurry, he might not be prepared for me to make an escape. The longer I wait, the more he’ll expect me to come out. Better make this quick!”

 Patton slowly opened the door and peeked out at Logan, who was occupied washing the dishes they had just eaten from. He had blue eyes again… why did he look so… sad? Patton felt the smallest pang of sympathy for his kidnapper, despite everything. He’d soon need another syringe that made his eyes turn grey again. Some kind of drug. His posture was looser and his normally expressionless face was bent in a look of grief.

 “I- is he shaking?” Patton squinted. He could see long-range distance just fine, but movement was a little hard, but he swore, he could see his captor, shaking in place uncontrollably. Enough, he had to get out of there, NOW.

 Patton dashed for the hallway entrance just next to the kitchen, side closest to him. Logan noticed the movement right away, and try as he might, he couldn’t move fast to block the blonde from what he knew was going to happen.

 “AHHHH!!!” Patton screamed bloody murder as an improvised bear trap snapped around his right leg, dragging him down to the ground. He laid there, whimpering on the ground.

 “You stupid son of a bitch!” Logan ran up to him, quickly carrying him back to the main room. “What made you think I was lying about my traps?? Damn you, I was trying to do something good for once and you had to go and make such a stupid move!” He laid Patton down as he cried openly, unable to take the pain.

 He quickly ripped off the bear trap and started to examine his leg.

 “D-don’t touch me! It hurts! It hurts…” Patton sobbed, unable to move as Logan pressed different parts of his leg.

“Okay, it didn’t break any bones, but your muscle and tissue are severely damaged… I didn’t design that thing to break through bone, but I never tested it before, so that’s a relief… Now all that’s there to do is bandage your poor leg…” Logan quickly wrapped up the wound, adding on several straps of ice to help ease the pain. He then laid Patton back in the bed. “You just made things ten times harder for both you AND me!”

            Patton looked up fearfully to see Logan’s bold, indigo eyes starting back at him, his booming voice scolding him. Yet, strangely enough, Patton felt an odd sense of relief. Logan’s colorful eyes and evidently angry voice gave the criminal emotion. The blonde would rather have his kidnapper yell at him, than stare at him coldly from across the room. Logan then cried out in pain, grabbing his head again.

            “DAMN! This is YOUR fault! Now I’m even having problems with my CURE!” He hurried back to his cabinet to take another syringe, wincing harshly as the drug made its way into his body, before taking a deep exhale, relaxing significantly, as his eyes started to turn back to the void-ish grey that Patton had come to hate.

 “I apologize for my outburst… there will need to be a change of plan due to your foolish refusal to heed my warning about my security system…” Aaaand there’s that awful monotone voice again.

 Just then a figure burst into the room from the hallway, several bruises and scratches on him.

 “EVERYONE FREEZE!” He held up his gun at both Logan and Patton, who put their hands up. It was a police officer!

 As Roman pointed the barrel toward the uninjured suspect, he nearly dropped it.

 “L-Logan…? What happened to you?”

To be continued...

 @imflynn  @boba-and-doughnuts @tottalynotgayatall

[masjestickingdom]

The Waiting Game

Pairing: NCT Jaehyun x reader

Genre: one shot, fluff, slightly suggestive (implied smut)

Summary: It’s been a month since you last saw your boyfriend. When it’s finally the day to meet him, his late appearance has you coping with feelings that make you go out of character.

Note: Along with the previous post, this is a lighthearted scenario to “lighten” up the mood for what’s to come... (*hint, hint*) Until then, enjoy this scenario!

_______________________________________________________________________

   When you hear the music of the keypad, you jump up from your couch and rush your way over to the door. When the music comes to a stop and the door handle is angled, your eyes widen in anticipation. The door swings open, and your face immediately drops.

   Today is the long-awaited day you’ve been waiting for: at long last, you get to spend the evening with your lovely boyfriend, Jaehyun, since his departure for his world tour a month ago. Waiting for a month without any physical contact or voice calls was unbelievably painful, but you managed to pull through. Right now, though, you’ve been waiting for him all afternoon and all that waiting is starting to mess with your brain.

   “What’s with the face?” the man standing in front of you asks, taking off his sneakers.

   “I thought you were Jaehyun,” you answer with a visible pout. “But you’re just Johnny.”

   The tall man rolls his eyes. “Gee, I’m glad to see you too.”

   He steps out of the entryway and swings his arm around your shoulders, guiding you away from the precious entrance.

   “Your boyfriend’s still working on the dance he missed out on yesterday,” Johnny informs you, but his words mean nothing to you.

   You turn your head around, hoping to hear the same notes from the keypad.

   “He’s not going to come back sooner just because you’re staring at the door like a weirdo-”

   There they are, those notes, the notes you’ve been another minute waiting for. You and Johnny simultaneously exchange looks at each other, yours being smug and Johnny’s reflecting the image of a surprised kangaroo.

   “How did you do that?” he asks in wonderment as you slip out of his touch.

   You’re back to square one, staring at the door, waiting for the handle to be angled. This time, Johnny joins you with an amazed expression. During the three long seconds you wait, you hear indistinct conversations, to which you hope that among the numerous voices behind that door, one of them belongs to your boyfriend.

   “Who takes so long to press the keypad?” you say, impatience evident in your tone.

   “Kim Doyoung,” Johnny replies easily.

   After an eternity of three seconds, you see the door swing open in the same manner it was done before. You and Johnny stand there, watching the door open as if everything is in slow motion.

   The first person to walk in is, as Johnny predicted, Doyoung. The moment you realize it’s him, you get on your toes to see the faces following behind him.

   “Jaehyun?” you call, hoping that you get a response.

   “Nope,” Johnny responds instead as another member comes into view. “It’s Yuta.”

   “Jaehyun?” you try again.

   “Nope,” Johnny says, popping the “p”. “It’s Taeil.”

   “Jaehyun?”

   “Nope. Haechan.”

   “Jaehyun?”

   “Nope, Mark.”

   “Jaehyun?”

   “Hey, there’s no one left,” Johnny points out.

   There it is, that empty feeling in your heart once again. You feel dejected, wondering if Jaehyun can hear your telepathic message, pleading him to come early.

   Your misery catches the eyes of the incoming members, causing them to crowd around you.

   “What’s wrong?” they ask, genuinely concerned about your state.

   You were never like this before. In fact, you’re considered to be the chiller one of the friend group.

   “She misses our hardworking Jaehyun,” Johnny replies for you, gently patting your head.

   Upon hearing the problem, the boys try to cheer you up.

   “We can play Mario Kart,” Haechan suggests.

   “And eat ice cream,” Mark adds.

   “If it makes you feel any better,” Yuta speaks, “he says that he can’t wait to come back.”

   You look up at him with glittering eyes. “Really?”

   “Yeah,” he assures you, proud that he’s the one to lift your spirits. “Don’t worry. As long as Mia isn’t late today, he’ll be back in no time.”

   “Mia?”

   The light in your eyes fades, overshadowed by the growing sense of jealousy. You can feel your blood starting to boil.

   “Mia?” you repeat for the second time in disbelief. “Isn’t Mia a girl?”

   The boys exchange glances at each other, all ending up at Yuta, who raises his arms up in the air.

   “It just slipped,” he says, defending himself.

   “So Jaehyun’s working with a girl?” you pronounce slowly. “A girl. Alone.”

   The boys are quick to correct you, “No, no, definitely not alone.”

   “Taeyong and Jungwoo are there too,” Mark reveals, practically rapping.

   Yuta furiously nods. “And Mia’s not the only teacher there, so the more, the merrier, right? In fact, the name’s Ale-”

   Your dangerous gaze cuts him short.

   The wide-eyed boys silently look at Yuta, swearing through their eyes.

   “Oi,” Johnny sighs, rubbing his temples.

   “So that means there’s more room for Mia to spend with Jaehyun while the other teacher focuses on the others?” you say, your voice rising with volume each passing second.

   Your heart is racing and your hands are shaking. Your breath is becoming unstable and, for some reason, so are your fingers. Jaehyun is spending time with some female instructor before he’s spending time with you? That’s completely fine--except it’s not. It isn’t something you can do anything about--it’s his job--but knowing that he’s a fine-looking man, you can only imagine what the instructor will do to him. Heck, if you were her, you would probably feel him up too, no doubt.

   And here comes that aching void in your heart.

   “Hey, why don’t we all relax and go do Mario Kart like Haechan said?” Taeil urges after taking into account the time you spent sulking at the door.

    As the boys drag you away, Johnny and Doyoung are left behind, watching you refuse to play Mario Kart.

   “Well this is a first,” Doyoung remarks, stunned at your behavior. “I’ve never seen her so... mopey. It’s a shame that Jaehyun couldn’t be with us when she paid a visit to the company last week.”

   Johnny shakes his head, pitying your downcasted state. “Not seeing him for a month and not being able to call him because of his schedule, that’s gotta be tough.”

   No kidding. You’re dying without his touch, without seeing his face or hearing his voice. You’re literally going crazy.  

   “Hey, hey, hey, she’s biting me!”

   Who’s yelling? It doesn’t matter. You’re going crazy. 

   ...

   The boys somehow managed to calm you down with a few rounds of Mario Kart. Technically, you calmed yourself down, considering you were so furious that you were a beast in the game and came out on the top.

   “That’s right!” you shout, winning another round.

   So you aren’t calm, but you’re definitely not thinking about Jaehyun and that female instructor the boys call “Mia”.

   All is going well until you hear the all-too-familiar melody of the keypad. You speedily pause the game with your controller, earning you a few complaints, which quickly die down when you silence them with a simple glare.

   “All I’m saying is that she obviously faked her stomach pain so that she could leave early with Alex,” you hear a voice you know all too well.

   “At least our practice ended early,” another distinct voice responds. “I don’t think I could have handled being in that room for another moment.”

   The boys’ eyes rapidly scan your face as they mentally prepare themselves for another biting session.

   “I’m surprised that Jaehyun’s still practicing,” the second voice says, nearing the living room.

   “He’s probably immune to the couple-y things Mia and Alex do because he has a girlfri-”

   The former voice halts.

   “Taeyong, Jungwoo, where’s Jaehyun?”

   The two boys, who were innocently waltzing into the living room, stop in their tracks when they see the fiery look in your eyes. Before they have the chance to comprehend the situation, they are saved by the keypad. You hear the door open for the last time, and you vanish from the boys’ sight.

   “Jung Jaehyun!”

   You see the growing smile on your boyfriend’s face and tackle him with the biggest hug you can offer.

   “I’ve missed you!” you cry, taking in his sweet, natural scent. “Why didn’t you come sooner?”

   He snuggles his face into your neck. “I was going to practice a few more times, but I couldn’t let myself be away from you any longer.”

   He pulls his face away from your neck to get a good look at you.

   “I’ve missed you too,” he coos lovingly, leaning in for your lips, to which you move away.

   You aren’t going to let go of your jealousy that easily.

   You hear a couple of feet shuffling behind you, and your boyfriend peers over your shoulder, sending a questioning gaze to his fellow bandmates.

   “Mark?” he calls, remembering how the boy once accidentally ruined your surprise birthday party.

   The boys shake their head and point at Yuta.

   “Hey, I was just trying to help,” the accused boy utters.

   “Twice,” Johnny adds.

   “Mia,” Doyoung words to Jaehyun silently, directing him to the source of the complication.

   Grasping the situation with remarkable speed, Jaehyun nods, signalling to his friends to give them some space.

   “I tried,” Yuta mumbles while the others leave you two to be.

   Although you’ve missed Jaehyun, there’s this voice in the back of your mind that constantly reminds you of your jealousy towards the time he seems to be spending with other people more than you. You love him and understand him, but you simply want to see how he’ll deal with this jealous side of you, so you act childishly.

   When you don’t look at him in the eye, he smiles and says, “You know Mia’s taken, right?”

   “But it’s you,” you murmur, staring at your feet.

   “You’re right,” he says, resting his hands on your shoulders. “It’s me. I’m in love with you and my eyes are only set on you.”

   He senses that you’re starting to become looser, so he takes your hands in his and tilts his head forward to see you eye-to-eye.

   “I’ll make up for the lost time,” he promises. “Pinkie swear.”

   You still don’t respond, which takes up a lot of your energy not to do because you really want to lose yourself in those striking brown eyes of his, but you’ve been with him long enough for him to know how to work his way around this type of situation.

   He lowers himself to your ears and whispers, “Hey.”

   One word and he already has you melting with your legs turning into jelly.

   And one final impactful statement from him has you hooked: “Let’s go to my room.”

   ...

   Fifteen minutes have passed and there is still no word from either you or Jaehyun. The boys, gathered around the couch, start to feel anxious.

   “Maybe they’re giving each other the silent treatment,” Mark speaks, breaking the silence.

   “Shouldn’t we go check up on them?” Yuta asks, glancing at the door you and Jaehyun disappeared behind.

   Johnny gets up on his knees and says, “I’ll signal something if anything’s wrong.”

   He carefully makes his way to the door. When he presses his ear against the door, an instant smirk forms on his face.

   “Why? What’s going on in there?” the boys ask.

   Instead of respecting your guys’ privacy, Johnny decides to gesture the guys over to join him, and when they do, a lot of their faces flush.

   “Th-this isn’t something that we should listen to,” Mark stutters, his ears red and eyes wide.

   But all of them remain there. Another five minutes pass and that’s when it hits Doyoung.

   "Wait isn’t Haechan still a minor?” 

[simsadventures]

After All: Chapter 3: Say What?

Summary: You are getting ready for the party, all excited and encouraged by your friend Hannah. Bucky seems to be mesmerised by you. But then you overhear a conversation and everything changes.

Warnings: fluff, light swearing, fluffy Bruce, ANGST, vomiting

Word Count: 1786

A/N: It’s finally here, the moment we’ve all been waiting for, the moment of TRUTH. Hope you’ll all enjoy it xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter 

To say you were excited about the party would be an understatement of the year. You were thrilled. Ecstatic, even. After Hannah came back from the mission, she assured you more and more about Bucky’s intention. She would always say that the two of you were meant to be. You tried to play it cool, you really did, but hearing such words over and over again just got to your brain.

You wanted to look pretty for the party. In order to do that, you needed a new dress. Once again, Hannah insisted on going with you to guide you to the right dress. You couldn’t thank her enough for being by your side. You went for a purple, tight dress, even though they wouldn’t be your first choice. You didn’t feel too confident, but Hannah assured you that you looked fabulous and Bucky wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you.

You smiled at that image. So, of course, you listened to your friend. She was Miss Gorgeous, and she totally knew the trends and what suited you better than you did. You were just not that into fashion or anything. If it were up to you, you would have gone for a more simple dress, maybe black not to catch too much attention, and definitely one with a lot looser fit. But Hannah knew what she was talking about.

During the week, you got much closer to another person on the team. Bruce. You chatted now and then before, but since you needed his help on some biometrics stuff, you two started spending a lot more time together. And he was such a sweet, calm person you couldn’t really understand that somewhere deep down, a green monster was hiding. The day of the party, your tongue slipped, and you said something about Bucky and the dreaded party.

Bruce looked interested, and took you out of the compound for a coffee, so the two of you could really talk, no distractions around.

“Wow, that sounds like Bucky’s really going at it. I mean, he’s got some moves, I gotta give him that.” Bruce smirked at you, and you couldn’t help but blush. “You know, I keep telling myself that I’m not his type, that I’m-“

“That you’re what, sweetheart? Gorgeous, smart, funny, sassy young lady? ‘Cause sure, you’re all of those things.”

You playfully slapped Bruce’s shoulder. “C’mon, you’re really trying to make me blush, don’t you? I’m not worried about my brain or my humour, they are spot on, but let’s face it, Bruce, I’m not the beautiful model-like type. I’m good with that, I had to live with my face long enough to get used to it… It doesn’t matter. You know, for the first time, I really feel like someone’s truly interested in me, and it’s a nice feeling.”

Bruce wanted to fight about your beauty some more but dropped it. Instead, he just watched how a small blush crept to your cheeks, whenever you talked about Bucky, and he had to smile to himself. Bucky was one lucky bastard, that was for sure.  

“OK, Miss-in-love, but save me one dance, will you? Even us less fortunate would like to spend some time in your presence.”

You both laughed, and in the same breath, you promised Bruce that you’d dance with him, even if it weren’t one of your favourite activities.

You excused yourself because you really needed to get your make-up and hair done, and mentally prepare yourself for what the night might bring. You weren’t a pro at doing any of those things, so you naturally asked Hannah if she could help, and she was all in. Thank God, you thought, it would be a total disaster otherwise.

“So, are you like, in love now, or what, Y/N?” Hannah smirked while applying eyeliner. You wanted to cringe, or furiously shake your head, but didn’t want to mess up the work she’s been doing for about an hour now. “No, of course not. I just like him, that’s all, it would be bizarre if I were in love with him when I don’t even know if he means the stuff this way, right?”

“It wouldn’t be crazy, and you’re not fooling me, girl. I see right through you. Say all you want, but I’m telling you, you more than just like Bucky. And that’s a good thing.”

You didn’t want to admit anything, not to her, not to yourself. So you just mumbled quiet yeah, whatever, and continued to be occupied with your own thoughts and let Hannah do the magic.

When she was finished, she brought you to a mirror. You didn’t quite recognise yourself, to be fair. It was a little too much, but you didn’t want to say anything. “You sure about this? I mean, I look like a doll, a little.”

“You’re a total doll, Y/N! And that’s what guys like, you know? They all say how they like us the way we are, but that’s bullshit. They want us all plastic and stuff. Trust me, Bucky won’t even see anyone else in the room.”

You just smiled at her and looked at your reflection. What you didn’t understand was why you had to be this eccentric while she was all naturally cute. Right, you thought, it’s because I’m not naturally lovely, that’s why I have to wear so much of everything.  

You wanted to have a drink before you went to the party, but then a light knock sounded from the door, and your heart felt like it would explode any second. “He’s here, go and charm him, Y/N. I’ll be there, watching how it all goes.” He smiled warmly and kissed your cheek before she pushed you towards the door.

When you opened it, your breath hitched in your throat. Bucky, who was usually very close to a freaking Greek God, was now just perfect. His suit fit him perfectly, his hair styled so that it didn’t fall to his face, and his magnificent features were more visible now. He briefly looked at Hannah and then give all his attention to you. His eyes widened a bit, but then he shook his head and smiled. “You look amazing, doll. Shall we?”

You still couldn’t find the right words, so you followed him without a word, blushing like a crazy. When you shook the nervousness out of your body, you complimented Bucky on his look, only for him to say, “Anything for my girl,” and you were a puddle again.

When you came to the ballroom, you greeted a few people and looked around to see that most women were wearing black, or at least dark dresses. You were starting to feel insecure, well, even more, insecure than you did staring at your reflection. Bucky probably felt you moving a little too much and squeezed your waist.

“Stop it, you look awesome, doll. If anything, it will be easier for me to find you in the crowd of boring black.” You giggled and calmed down a little. After all, you wanted to look good for Bucky, not for anyone else.

As the night progressed, you drank a little, danced a lot and overall, had so much fun. Bucky was mostly beside you, whispering sweet nothings to your ear, which only resulted in you blushing like a teenage girl on a first date.

You were currently dancing with Bruce, finally getting to the promise you gave him. “I thought you didn’t like dancing that much. But you’re a great dancer, Y/N! You should totally dance these shoes off tonight!”

“You’re just being nice, Bruce. I stepped on your toes like a 100 times.” He laughed at this. “Yeah, but I mean, I’m lucky you let me be the one on whose toes you§re stepping.” You both laughed at this and continued to dance for like three more songs. One of which was Macarena and the image of Bruce Banner dancing to that song will be forever embedded in your brain. You almost peed yourself from laughing.

“I’m gonna go use the ladies room. If there’s like a chicken dance or something, don’t you dance before I get back. I need to see this.” Bruce just slurred yeah, yeah, whatever, and continued his kind of battle with Dr Cho. You smiled at the scene and hurried to the restrooms.

You were almost there when you heard familiar voices. You wanted to make the final step around the corner, but then you heard your name. You stopped in your tracks and listened. You thought as they were your closest friends, that Bucky was telling Hannah about how much he liked you. But boy, were you wrong.

“I mean, the dress? Hahahaha, it was just so hideous I had to put it on her.” It was Hannah’s voice echoing through the hallway. Your heart clenched.

“It is gold! I mean, did she really think she looked good? Good, and the way she would always lean on me, she’s so pathetic, right? I love this too much. I mean, she really thinks I’d be interested in a girl like her. Pfff. Look at me and look at her. It’s ridiculous.” Bucky laughed so loud you flinched. You wanted to turn around and just leave, but the masochistic side of you needed to stay and hear everything they had to say.

“She’s totally just a lab rat, no style, nothing. It makes me cringe that people actually see the two of us together, but I’m having too much fun to stop this. This was a perfect idea, babe.” You heard a smooching noise and felt the bile almost in your mouth.

“But, she’s not like in love with me, right?” Hannah just laughed and dismissed the idea. You wanted to die there and then. It was all too much. The two people you trusted most in the compound played a long, long trick on you, probably always having a good laugh whenever you gushed about Bucky.

The tears welled up in your eyes, but you wouldn’t be caught dead crying in a public place. You wanted to both go there and punched them both, and just run away. When you imagined their faces, your stomach made a salto, and you took that as a cue to run towards your room.

You could hear Bruce calling your name, but you just smiled through your gritted teeth, made a sign that you’re tired, and hurried towards your room.

Once there, you made your way towards the bathroom and emptied the content of your stomach. After that, you were just sitting on a cold floor, finally letting your own bitter tears crush around you.

/ Next Chapter >

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[chartedrights]

black friday,,,,, gold rush au,,,,,,,,,,

Oh my god okay first of all? Your mind

Second of all- worth mentioning on this post-independence day that the California Gold Rush was in fact the impetus for the California Genocide and the displacement of the indigenous Californian population. They didn’t teach us that in fourth grade, but I figured I’d tell you. California has a long and terrible history regarding its treatment of the indigenous people who lived here before us, and I’d recommend googling California Genocide or the Spanish Mission System if you want some increased awareness there.

Frank Pricely stole so much fucking land. He probably started out owning about half of the area and has slowly been selling off plots to people looking for gold. He knows it’s a lost cause looking for gold himself, but who is he to deny people their wishes? He gets their money either way. Doesn’t matter what happens to them afterwards. He scams so many people out of their money by telling them that their patch of land is the best, the finest, the one with the most gold.

Lex and Hannah and Ethan came out from Hatchetfield, running away from home in hopes of striking it rich in the gold fields. The story begins with them making it to California, after a long journey from the other side of the country

Think Trail to Oregon but much less fun

They truly are CaliforMIA this time

Lex has been scoping out Frank’s land for a few days now, secretly, playing the system by checking until she finds a particular patch of land with gold in the water… and buys it from Frank immediately, doing her best not to give away why she wants it.

Linda came out from New York with her husband and her four beautiful blonde boys several years ago, back when it wasn’t even US territory, because Gerald’s debts were hounding them. Linda runs a boarding house for those looking for gold while Gerald searches, fruitlessly, for gold himself. Though their debtors lost track of them somewhere around the Sierras, he’s still afraid. Linda’s just glad he’s not near her all the time.

And then Frank Pricely strikes gold under his own house, on the one plot of land he won’t sell, and everyone starts to wonder. He won’t tell, but people whisper that a man in denim left his house the night before, walked out into the dark and disappeared.

Every man in denim is hounded, begged, for their luck, for their blessing, please sir, please, I have a family, I have debts, I have a girl back home-

But it was no ordinary man Frank made a deal with.

Wiley is a thing that looks like a man until the lantern light hits him just right and his eyes shine like a deer’s, until the moonlight hits his profile just right and his face looks *too* perfect to be human, until he smiles and his teeth are just a little too sharp and a little too shiny. But he’ll grant your wish, alright. He’ll make your dreams come true. You’ll have years aplenty to enjoy your good fortune, your riches and your health and your family. But he’ll be back, when your time is up, and he’ll be smiling then, too, with sharp and shining teeth.

Wiley comes to people and whispers secrets in their ears, invites them to makes deals with him, meets people lingering at the crossroads and leads them down a dark and winding path. He is not a man, and he is not a spirit, and he is not kind.

Linda makes a deal with him, and in return he organizes circumstances so that the 49ers begin to worship her- everyone who does right by her has better luck, does better at cards, eats better, sleeps better, has better luck with the ladies- people notice. It’s a joke, just casually at first, cracks about her being their patron saint, about her being unrealistically beautiful, about how god blessed Miss Linda Monroe (and it’s always Miss, never Misses), and then more and more and more until the whole town seems to be in her grip.

Tom came out to California a year ago, just after Jane died. Tim is back in Hatchetfield with Emma, (who is doing her best to keep him alive as the Apotheosis occurs), and Tom has been looking for gold and catharsis out in the hills. He hasn’t found much, but maybe one day, he tells himself. Maybe one day. Soon. And then Tim can come out to be with him.

Becky has just come West, hoping to help keep the diseases in miners’ camps and towns like these to a minimum, helping anyone she can. Anyone who’ll let her, which sadly isn’t very many people. She’s running, from her husband or his ghost, who can say, but she is most certainly running.

Becky is the first person in three years to challenge Linda’s cult-like rule, and it stirs tensions. Eventually everything comes to a head, and riots begin to break out- some people blame Frank for their misfortune and the lack of gold on their land. He flees the town, leaving Linda the sole “authority” figure.

John makes his way into town like any other ‘49er, and the only reason he and Lex even meet is because she’s come to get her first gold harvest authenticated in town. He admits that he’s come out looking for the man who killed his mentor, that he knows he’s out in the hills somewhere.

Lex wishes him luck, and he hands her a scrap of paper with his name and PEIP’s address. She doesn’t think much of it.

The gold is real, of course, and word soon spreads that somebody is getting all the good luck, that somebody is cheating everyone else of the gold, that somebody is stealing it-

That night, at something which resembles a cult meeting but which is billed as a “party”, Linda points out Lex and Ethan specifically as the people in possession of the lucky land, and later that same night Ethan is murdered by some cultists in pursuit of the deed- for themselves, for Linda, as if the distinction matters.

Hannah has it, though, not Ethan, and she runs deep into the sparse woods, hoping to find Lex.

Tom and Becky take shelter in a half-finished theater, long-deserted. They watch the stars and listen to the screams, the breaking glass, the destruction raging outside. They find solace in each other, something they’d thought they would never have again.

Becky resolves to go out and take care of the wounded, and Tom agrees to help her.

Wilbur finds John first, though. John is notably shaken by the revelation that Wiley didn’t just take Wilbur’s soul, he didn’t just take his life- he stole his face as well. “A handsome face, isn’t it?” Wiley says, admiring it in the reflection off John’s revolver. “Immensely pleasing to the eye.” He catches John’s gaze, and it becomes clear that whatever John was, whoever he is, Wiley is stronger.

John dies. It is horrible. It is loud. Hannah hears it from miles away.

Lex is found by Sherman, who overpowers her. He forces her to call for Hannah, to help him look for her on the plot of land belonging to her and Ethan, but Lex tries to break free.

Wiley is the first person Tom and Becky find, and when they roll his (apparently) broken body onto its back, he grins up at Tom, who freezes. He simply stops, and even as Becky is knocked out and dragged away, Tom is mesmerized. He can’t look away. He can’t even think.

Caught by a few cultists who hadn’t attended the meeting, Hannah is walked into town, deed in hand, and brought to Linda.

There is another struggle, on the banks of the only river where gold has been found. Sherman holds Lex’s head underwater. Her eyes are so wide, open in the stream, and she’s screaming and screaming under the water but nobody hears and she can taste the gold, the dirt, the blood-

And then she can see John, just standing there looking up at her, as if the river was so much deeper, offering his revolver to her. She reaches and reaches and her bloody fingers just brush against it and it’s dry in her hand when she pulls it from the water and levels it at Sherman. She breathes cold air and pulls the trigger.

Tom is about to make a deal with Wiley when she finds him, arm outstretched to shake on it. She begs him not to, tells him that Wiley can’t be trusted, that he’s evil- but Tom just looks at her with glazed-over eyes and says “He can give me my Jane back.”

“She wouldn’t be your Jane,” Lex says, pleading, as Wiley just grins and grins and grins. “She’d be his Jane, and he could take her away again. She’s dead, Mr. Houston. Your wife is dead, and I’m sorry, but this isn’t the way to fix that. You have a son,” she begs. “Please- please, don’t abandon him.”

And Tom looks at the outstretched hand, offering gold and ghosts, and he turns away.

Tom picks up a rifle from one of the fallen cultists and Lex tucks away her revolver, and they fight their way to the Monroe hostel, where Linda is holding court with her cult. Becky is still unconscious, Hannah is in near-hysterics at the loss of the thing her sister and Ethan entrusted her with.

Lex steals back the deed to the land they bought from Frank, and holds it up, strikes a match off the railing and holds it up to the deed. “This is just a piece of fucking paper,” she yells. “It’s just fucking metal! It doesn’t matter!” Linda screams, making a mad rush for Lex just as the match touches the deed. She and Lex struggle for a moment, and the deed flutters, flaming, to the ground.

Awake now, Becky stumbles to her feet, watches people flee the building, sees the discarded rifle where it was knocked from Tom’s hands.

Becky takes the rifle, one shot loaded and no second chances, and she aims it with keen eyes at Linda, where Lex has her pinned to a stalemate. She thinks of the Hippocratic oath, thinks of the words “do no harm,” thinks of all the people who have died today. She shoots.

Linda falls, bleeding, from the balcony, and Wiley disappears into the wind as the camp burns, as the Monroe hostel burns, as the rivers shine with blood and golden fire.

The fire spreads. Lex and Hannah meet Tom and Becky downstairs, make their way outside. California weeps smoke, and the other campers refuse to leave their plots, die standing charred-black skeletons that grin out at the world from their useless, greedy posts.

Becky leans on Tom’s shoulder, his arm around her waist as they stumble home with the girls.

The rest of it can wait until the morning.

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Words: 2,006 Warnings: Kissing, Gay Panic Characters: Roman, Janus Ships: Roceit Universe: Generic College AU Genre: 1000% Romantic Fluff

AO3 Link

   Janus pulled off the dark winding drive into the dirt on the side of the road. Roman wasn’t sure what had possessed him to agree to go anywhere with Janus. He normally was so confident and good at putting up a mask. But around Janus? Undoubtedly the cutest boy in his English lecture? Possibly on campus? Roman was a mess. He knew he was a mess. Boys shouldn’t be allowed to be that hot. Somebody needed to draw a line. Roman couldn’t focus in the lecture the first time Janus sat next to him. He could focus even less after they started chatting. Well, after Janus started talking and Roman started nodding because suddenly his tongue wouldn’t work. The fact he managed to get in Janus’s car was almost an act of god itself.

   “It’s here. You’ll love it, I promise,” Janus said silkily and looked Roman in the eye. Roman’s face grew hot every time Janus did that. There was no way Janus didn’t notice, but he never brought it up. He was probably used to seeing it, he was so damn hot. “Come on,” Janus smiled and brushed his hand across Roman’s that was gripping his knees. A little spark bit between them, but Janus didn’t act like he felt it. He got out of the car and Roman followed suit after a moment of staring after him, unable to process the static shock.

   Roman stepped out into the cool night air. It was dark out here on the hills. There were no road lights nearby to light the way. Just the wind and the trees. Roman could barely make out anything five feet away from him. It would be a little freaky if Janus didn’t seem so confident and self-assured. Janus climb up on to the hood of his car and held out his hand. Roman swallowed and took it, joining him on top of the car. The hood made a loud hollow noise when Roman climbed on to it. He was nervous about scuffing up Janus’s car, but Janus just smiled reassuringly. He shifted, and they both sat upon the highest part of the hood and faced out over the cliff-side Janus parked on.

   Roman really did love it. They were positioned over a lake next to the city. The lights from the city all bounced off the water in magical ways, making urban sprawl look like luminescent art instead of harsh reality. There were many different shimmering colors of light, even on the water. It looked like one lakefront house was having a party, with different colors reflecting off the water near the house every few seconds. The city was still alive and pulsing with motion. Lights on the road flying past and buildings and towers lit up with an amber glow. Roman leaned forward and grabbed his legs and kept looking around at the ever-changing landscape in front of him.

   “If you like stars, you can also see them out here,” Janus said and pointed up in Roman’s peripheral vision. Roman leaned back to look up. Roman liked stars now. You could barely make them out in the city. But out here, they spread out like a glittery blanket and coated the sky in an otherworldly mystical glow. Some of them that shone brightly he might have recognized, but amongst the flickering pale glow of the thousands of others he had never seen before, it was like a whole new sky. Roman leaned back on his hands and stared up in wonder at the celestial marvel above him.

   “You know, the stars out here are almost as bright and beautiful as your eyes,” Janus said softly and scooted closer to Roman on the hood of the car. Roman felt his entire face burn, and he was glad it was so dark out here that Janus couldn’t see how extremely affected Roman was by that compliment. Was Janus… interested in him? Why would Janus be interested in him? Roman was a wreck in nice packaging. He was great at acting okay and strong despite his insecurities, but he was nothing that someone like Janus should be interested in.

   “Are you sure?” Roman asked quietly, glancing out of the side of his eyes to Janus in the pale glow moonlight.

   “I’m very sure,” Janus cooed, taking Roman’s chin and angled his face towards him. “Absolutely stunning,” He said with a knowing smile. Roman’s face somehow grew hotter if that was even possible. Was it possible to die from flattery? Roman might find out if this kept up.

   “Um, yeah, the view is something,” Roman said meekly, not able to tear his gaze away from Janus’s piercing look.

   “I’m glad you are enjoying it. So, what kinds of things do you like?” Janus released Roman’s face and angled his body towards Roman more. Roman was still reeling for a moment, but Janus just looked at Roman with interest instead of annoyance while Roman got ahold of himself. Well, as ahold of himself as he could manage in this situation. Which was not much.

   “Art, poetry, music… you know… endeavors of the human spirit or whatever,” Roman replied much less eloquently than he would have liked.

   “So you like romantic things?” Janus leaned forward towards Roman a little.

   “I, um, yeah,” Roman muttered. He would love to confidently say he did and speak of the volumes of his interests. To gush about his favourite musical. To show Janus one of his paintings. To recite some poetry he had memorized to prove it. But He opened his mouth and nothing came out. So he closed it and kept meeting Janus’s intense gaze, unable to find any words, starting to feel lost in Janus's eyes.

   “So how do you feel about kissing, then?” Janus asked, and Janus’s hand slid closer to Roman’s, pressing gently into the side of Roman’s hand. His heart would have jumped into his throat when that happened, but Roman just stiffened. He didn’t want to admit it. He was 20 now. And despite all the love ballads he sang on stage or the passionate poetry he performed… “Are you okay?” He asked gently. Roman felt wound tighter than a music box that had been twisted too many times. Roman swallowed and nodded.

   “Can I tell you a secret?” Roman whispered. He had no reason to whisper. They were alone out here. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say it louder.

   “My lips are sealed and my ears are open,” Janus wrapped his hand around Roman’s on the hood of the car.

   “I’ve never…” Roman tried and trailed off, finally pulling his eyes away from Janus and looking down in shame. He wasn’t able to say it. He couldn’t admit it. But the intended message was obvious.

   “Would you like to?” Janus said smoothly and Roman’s eyes shot back up, staring widely at Janus. He was smirking at Roman but didn’t make a move forward. Janus lightly squeezed Roman’s hands as his brain seemed to stop completely in its tracks. Did he really- was- no- he couldn’t- “I’d be happy to oblige,” Janus purred. He really- holy shit- what the fuck- oh my god! Janus leaned in halfway and watched Roman’s face glow at one thousand megawatts, but didn’t pressure him any while Roman sat there, completely frozen and unable to process this.

   After a supreme effort, Roman swallowed and managed to nod. Janus smiled and moved closer to Roman. Janus grabbed one of Roman’s cheeks and pulled Roman millimeters away from Janus’s lips, letting Roman close the final gap. Roman closed his eyes and went in. Fireworks. A chorus. His heart was pounding, but Roman didn’t care. It was like warm honey, hot electricity, completely familiar like home and completely unknown like the furthest reaches of outer space. Janus kissed Roman expertly. They moved slowly with each other, Janus’s hand gently cradling Roman’s face and slipping into Roman’s hand on the car. Roman took it, and they intertwined fingers while they kissed. Roman had reached out and held Janus’s waist without even realizing it, gently caressing his side. Janus slid his hand into the back of Roman’s head and Roman’s hand wandered up Janus’s back and they pulled each other closer. Roman could barely process what was happening outside of the fire in his heart and brain Janus was fanning with the kiss.

   Janus and Roman finally pulled apart to breathe. Roman felt like he’d run a marathon he was panting so hard. Janus had a very satisfied smile, and he pulled the pair of them down to lie back on the car, hands still grasping one another.

   “Do you have an opinion now?” Janus smirked humorously.

   “I-yes. Good,” Roman managed to stammer out, still completely dazzled by the kiss.

   “Just good? Shame,” Janus hummed, though he was still smiling.

   “No! Great! Amazing! Life-affirming!” Roman blurted out, quickly correcting himself.

   “You do have a way with words,” Janus leaned in and Roman didn’t hesitate to kiss him again. This one was just as tender, but shorter. Which was good, since Roman was still trying to catch his breath from the first one.

   “I, uh, you’re… really good at that,” Roman muttered out. “You took my breath away,” Roman exhaled, still trying to get it back.

   “I also enjoyed myself thoroughly,” Janus pecked Roman on the forehead and he was a blushing mess all over again.

   “H-how many… how much practice have you had?” Roman asked, feeling embarrassed. “I mean, you’re so good and it seems like maybe you’ve kissed a lot, I don't know, sorry,” Roman stumbled out quickly, realizing how that sounded.

   “Zero,” Janus grinned slyly.

   “Zero what?” Roman asked, feeling confused on top of completely discombobulated by that kiss and Janus and his proximity and the stars and, well, everything about this situation.

   “You’re my first kiss,” Janus squeezed Roman’s hand in his.

   “No way,” Roman said incredulously, furrowing his eyebrows.

   “How would you like to be my first everything, darling?” Janus said and pulled Roman in closer. Okay, if it was possible to die from being flustered and flattered, Roman would be dead right now. Roman’s brain completely melted. He didn’t have one functional thought left. Just his heart and mind doing backflips at the very concept of being asked out. “Would you like to go on a date tomorrow evening? My treat,” Janus offered smoothly after a long pause of Roman staring at him wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Roman nodded furiously, unable to form words at this point. Janus had completely destroyed Roman's mind and stole his heart. Janus pulled Roman in for another kiss and they kissed amorously under the heavenly glow of the cosmos, finding themselves in each other. The urgency of the kisses never rose, but the passion did, leaving them both breathless and longing for more. Roman was very glad he wasn’t driving because he’d be drunk off of Janus’s lips for days. 

[mousehole5000]

more tgcf chapters 143-173 lets goooooo

PEI MING BOO HISS except actually okay he’s mostly funny i think but still boo hiss

“hey who’s this guy who’s really pissed at you?” “oh thats my sword. i broke it.” alright then!

i think i need to go back and reread the banyue pass arc bc im still confused as to whats going on with banyue and pei su

“Banyue dropped from the sky with two pots raised. Without a word, she plummeted with the mouths of the pots facing down, trapping and detaining the shocked Ming’guang and the roaring Ke Mo within.” - THATS MY GIRL

“It must be known that, to heavenly officials, it certainly was more than natural for kingdoms of the mortal realm to fight and annihilate one another; the acts of these plays progressing on endlessly. But when it came their own turn, it was often hard to let things go. If one must stand in the same court as the one who annihilated their own kingdom, and that man cavorted in the heavens, exceedingly flashy, then it must be vexing.” - hmmmm!!

“I’ve spoken too many words in this lifetime. What are you referring to?” - okay to be fair thats a mood

okay its nice to get some pei ming backstory and its funny that he and xie lian are bonding but also still whenever pei ming interacts with a female character my hackles rise like a cat lol

“Xie Lian watched as Banyue thought really hard before cheerfully pulling out a few long, wine-red scorpion-snakes, and putting them into the bubbling pot.” - THATS MY GIRL

“Although “smell” was something colourless and formless, the instant Banyue removed the pot cover, it was as if some mysterious physical object had twisted all the air around the mouth of that pot. The group stared at the sight within the pot for a long time. Their pupils reflected an endless, bottomless darkness; like it could pull them into the abyss. No words could describe the sentiment expressed within their eyes. A moment later, Xie Lian patted Banyue’s shoulder and gave a thumbs-up.” - like father-figure like daughter-figure. amazing.

“However, what if one day mortals discovered something completely new that ran faster than horses? Then, when this new invention overtook horses, worshippers of this heavenly official who controlled horses would inevitably decrease. Such heavenly officials, flashing by like shooting stars, made up the majority of the heavens.” - obsessed with this, genuinely. life and change. worship and its purpose. my religious studies diploma on my wall is screaming at me rn. ALSO i am once again thinking about celebrities

“...” It was only then that Pei Ming seemed to notice, and started to contemplate this question. A moment later, he answered, “A habit. In a dark, creepy place like this, isn’t it normal to hold women in your arms, to comfort them and calm their fears?” “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t scared,” Banyue said.” - BANYUE I LOVE YOU. I MISSED YOU SO MUCH. god this takes me back to every college party i ever went to

LING WEN BACKSTORY????? shoeseller chosen for godhood bc she wrote a political essay and got arrested...... and now she’s face to face with the official who appointed her..... do go on.....

“Ling Wen laughed out loud, seeming to be enraged, and her voice dropped. “Very well! You said I couldn’t reach that high. Then, might I ask you: had the prominence of the Palace of Jing Wen at its peak ever reached even the knees of my Palace of Ling Wen??” - GET HIM!!!! BOO HISS JING WEN

“Compared to you, I’m not that bad,” Ling Wen said. “You’d personally order me to stay in the Palace of Jing Wen until midnight, then turn around and say I shamelessly hang around ‘til late to harass you. Words murder without form; I was much nicer responding with blatant violence.” - ling wen im love you..... also this bit... feels Real

BLOOD RAIN BLOOD RAIN BLOOD RAIN!! FLOWER PETALS TRANSFORMATION!!! see hua cheng? look as how cool it can be when you leave the story for a little while!! bc then you get to return and make an entrance!!

“Not only can you bring forth bloody rain, you can also make flowers shower. I didn’t know that. How fun!” - cute!! and in that moment we were all xie lian

“Everyone was stunned by his deed, and Ling Wen arduously gave him a thumbs-up. ”Ol’ Pei, what a man!” Pei Ming gritted his teeth. “WELCOME!” - aww three two tumors buddies!!

okay yin yu is here and xie lian did the equivalent of asking someone when the baby is due only to find out theyre not pregnant at all. then rong guang taunts yin yu and no one says anything. i do love the amount of awkward moments in this book tbh sometimes there are no words.

“All around was sand and mud crushing at him, exceedingly suffocating. The sand and mud was also moving endlessly; the feeling was like he was swallowed into the stomach of a giant monster, and that monster had also eaten a bunch of other things besides him, tumbling everything in its stomach, trying to digest” - ooooh creepy!!! the red string thing... is cute.... also xie lian being able to see hua cheng’s butterfly vision by looking directly into his eye is kinda cool. and obviously homoerotic.

“Are lower-ranked heavenly officials below other people?” Quan Yizhen asked. “No,” Yin Yu replied. Were they not? It was obvious that he himself didn’t believe in his own words, and Quan Yizhen also noticed. A good while later, he said bluntly, “I don’t like it here.” Yin Yu said nothing.” - im having emotions. and then yin yu also saying he doesnt like it there either.... also idk how this scene is going to play out but as much as im enjoying quan yizhen being an icon i can also possibly see how yin yu could eventually get to the point of “i am tired of being nice. i do just want to go apeshit” even if he really cares about qyz. it happens </3

“Indeed,” Hua Cheng said. “Half a year later when Quan Yizhen actually ascends, he won’t find it so funny anymore.” “Can we watch that part too?” Xie Lian asked. “We can. Hold on,” Hua Cheng replied.” - quan yizhen king of taking things literally. also why did this turn into hualian having a movie night

jian yu seems like the kind of asshole who would purposely give someone regular soda when they specifically asked for diet soda. god yin yu is really having a bad day i really feel for him in the whole situation with the brocade immortal

awww okay at least jian yu tried to take responsibility. im still mad at him tho that was objectively a terrible idea. god this whole situation sucked :(

“Rocks and earth crushed at them from all around, forcing their bodies to press tightly against one another, their faces brushing, their ears warm. Although it wasn’t the right time, a thought flashed through Xie Lian’s mind: “‘To die buried together’ doesn’t feel so bad.” - okay... im kind of emotional.... gay people....

okay obviously these murals and the prince of wuyong have some connection (im guessing pretty direct) to xie lian and are important but everytime they start analyzing one i feel like im back in art history class fhadskfhskjdhf not that thats a bad thing!! i liked art history a lot tbh

“Don’t worry, they’re not human,” Hua Cheng said. “It’s precisely because they’re not human that we have to worry, alright….” Xie Lian thought.” - goth ghost bf problems

xie lian: well, there is one person i trust more than anyone else, someone who’s first in my mind hua cheng, oblivious: oh :/ xie lian, also oblivious: what? hua cheng: you shouldnt trust so easily its dangerous xie lian: oh. haha. yeah. well. wanna,,, know who it is? hua cheng: its :) fine :) it :) doesnt :) matter :) but of course you can tell me if you want to gege xie lian, internally: well now ive made it weird hua cheng, 5 minutes later: actually i need you to tell me. right now. its totally for your security me: gay people smh

“As they suspected, he had been captured by Qi Rong. Although no one was bound by ropes, there were balls of greasily green ghost fires hovering over every one of their heads.” - completely off track but anybody else remember the great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts song

“Could there actually come a day when Qi Rong was embarrassed that someone might see the manner in which he ate? Before Xuan Ji entered, she put Guzi down. Guzi, ta-ta-ta, ran in, rushing straight to Qi Rong’s side. But when he saw him, he pointed his finger. He cried, “Dad is eating bad things in secret again!” “I’m not!” Qi Rong retaliated.” SCREAM IS QI RONG LEARNING THE POWER OF LOVE NOOOO also god that poor man whose body he has im starting to doubt if he’ll ever be free jimmy novak flashbacks

everytime we get another ghost king power somewhere someone should be writing hua cheng the cyborg bf in a high tech futuristic au i think thats the only other potential setting that could truly capture this wild ride

“In truth, throughout history, there was no man in the world who didn’t love bragging. A breeze could blow the handkerchief of a brothel girl into a man’s hand, and he would turn around and say the most beautiful of renowned escorts had fallen in love with him; holding shoes and wiping benches for the emperor’s mistress’s uncle’s grandson’s cousin’s mistress would for sure become him being an important administrator at the residence of royal relatives, raising his status. Thus, men who didn’t brag were a rare species.” - SCREAM this is going in my favorite tgcf quotes folder god... mxtx come here let me shake your hand

read the story of rain master yushi huang’s ascension. why am i crying. also this bit im crying again me with my stuffed animals “Thus, while Yushi Huang was cultivating at the Temple of Yulong, every time when she went to seek water and passed that door, she would rub the head of that ox. The door knocker soaked in her essence of life, and when the Rain Master ascended, the ox ascended with her.”

okay thats enough for now i have 7 more chapters to book 4!!! woo!!!

[piccolosniccolo]

Conversation in the Afterlife

Creative writing practice. Discussions of death, but nothing graphic. 2442 words.

A sharp sting. Faint pressure. The desperate whispers of a friend. She could hardly register these things as her consciousness faded away.

She knew there was little to be done. The strength to keep her eyes open faded away. Her breaths became lethargic. Her fate was settled and a peaceful slumber beckoned her forwards. She no longer had the willpower to fight it off. As her body teetered between life and death, her thoughts shifted to the girl she pushed out of the way.

The reaction had been immediate. By the time she comprehended what she had done, it was too late to think twice. Her head was struck and she collapsed onto the ground. She did not regret this, no, not at all. What she regretted was not being able to journey with her friends any longer.

With that, Amara let out her last breath.

****

“Hmm, I wagered I wouldn’t see you for another ten years.”

Sound. Sound came back to Amara first. A voice, familiar, but coming from a person who was very dead. Somewhere in the background, she could hear the rise and fall of an ocean.

“I just lost fifteen bucks.”

Touch. She was lying down on something grainy, presumably sand. She dragged her hand to the back of her head, and to her surprise, the wound no longer stung.

“I hope you’re happy. There’s no currency here and I’m already in debt.”

With that, Amara’s eyes blinked open to the pouting face of her very dead friend, Adam.

“Gambling in the afterlife?” Amara narrowed her eyes and slowly pushed herself off the ground. “I’d have thought you’d be haunting some innocent soul.”

“I haven’t figured out how to get out of this realm yet.” Adam flopped onto the sand and gazed out in front of him. She followed his eyes and spotted the massive ocean stretched out in front of them. Amara had never considered that the afterlife may be a picturesque beach, but she certainly wasn’t complaining.

“So the only thing you do here is gamble and plot to escape?” Amara questioned.

“What else should I do?” Adam rolled his head and turned to Amara. “Quiet reflection? Narrate the story of my life to everybody and anybody?”

“You tell me! I just got here.”

“Hmph.” Adam looked forward and his eyes glazed in silent contemplation. “Well, there’s walking. Lots of that. Land stretches out for miles and miles in any given direction.”

He laid back on the ground and put his arms behind his head. “I don’t think there’s a limit.”

Amara tilted her head and glanced back at the ocean. The waves in front of her reached for her feet, but they fell short and crashed against the sand each time. She looked up to the sky to see the sun blocked by massive, fluffy clouds. Birds dotted the blue and dove from the heavens into the waters below. An ocean breeze brushed past her hair and blew stray ends into her face, no doubt tangling it in the back.

If what Adam said was right, that this ocean went on forever, she was certainly in for a treat.

“At least it’s a lovely view.”

“Of course it is! You can’t enjoy death without a spectacular view of the mountains, Amara!”

She opened her mouth to agree, but Adam’s words stopped her right on her tracks.

“Mountains? Where?” Amara turned her head and checked behind her, but there was only some type of tropical forest. She looked left and right, but to no avail. The only thing in sight was an endless ocean.

Adam tugged on her wrist and pointed randomly at a patch of water. “Right in front of you, you goose! Did you die of a head wound or something or something?”

“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to be more empathetic in the afterlife? With the whole, eternal rest eternal reflection thing going on?” She rubbed her eyes to check if her head wound had indeed distorted her vision. Still, no mountains.

Amara threw sand at him. “And who’s to say you’re no messing with me!”

“Just because I’m at rest doesn’t mean I can’t call out your bullshit!” Adam accepted the challenge and tossed a handful of sand at her face. Amara quickly scooched away before she could actually lose her sight.

“Hmph.” Mountains or no mountains, Adam was still as much of a jackass as he was when she last saw him.

They sat in silence, either in what was a few seconds or a few hours, with Adam possibly looked at mountains and Amara staring into her ocean.

Eventually, out of the corner of her eye, Amara saw Adam lean towards her.

“Have you found them, yet?” He asked quietly.

“The only thing I see are miles of ocean.” A small grin formed on her face. “Perhaps you’re the one with the broken head. I can clearly hear the sound of the waves.”

“Hmm…” was the response she got, and with that, Adam turned back to his view.

“Do you know if other people see different things?”

Adam frowned. His brow pressed together, possibly in an attempt to put some amount of effort into finding an answer. “I don’t think I’ve asked.”

“‘Nice weather we’re having’ was never a conversation starter?”

“More like ‘where have I met you’ or ‘so what’s your damage?’”

“And these are the same people you make bets with?”

“Nah, not to randos. You never know who knows who. I think I’d get slapped if I told someone’s grandma ‘I bet Steve will be here in five years.’” He paused to snicker to himself. “I learned that the hard way. You would have thought things wouldn’t hurt here. Some woman and a sandal told me otherwise.”

Amara shook her head and laughed. “Only you could find yourself in that situation, Adam.”

She closed her eyes and laid back on the sand. Or grass, if that’s what Adam saw.

“So, what brought you here, Amara?”

“Head wound.”

“Oh…so I was right! Wait, I mean…whoops.” For once in his life, Adam sounded sheepish. Who knew.

Amara rolled her eyes and smiled despite herself. “You’re good. Wasn’t the way I wanted to go out, but it’s not like I can change anything.”

“You have a preferred way to go out?” Adam sat up and rested his head on his hands. “Tell me, what did Ms. Amara want on her gravestone?”

“Not ‘annoyed to death by Adam.’”

“Hey! That’s a great way to go out, especially by yours truly.”

“I’ll take the headwound.”

“Hmph.”

Adam fell back onto the ground, and once again, they both stared into space before Amara’s thoughts got the better of her.

“Adam,” Adam glanced at her and narrowed his eyes, “what is this place?”

Never in her life had Amara heard of such a depiction of the afterlife. She had always expected to see, well, her mother. Her past friends and family. Adam, yes, but why was he the only one she could see? Why did they see such different things?

“I’ve been calling it the in between.” Adam said, drawing her from her questions. “I don’t see fire; I don’t see cherubs. I only see mountains, but apparently, they might just be a part of my imagination.”

“So, some form of Purgatory?”

“Maybe? I mean, we’re not being told to walk towards a paradise.” He stretched his legs out onto the ‘shore’ and stared at the ‘sand.’ “I guess we just make it as we will.”

“Hmm…” Puzzled, Amara sat up and walked towards the shore. Even with a higher viewpoint, she could still only see miles of ocean in front of her. She squinted and attempted to spot some island in the distance, but the sea was empty.

“Perhaps,” she started, “perhaps the answer is right in front of us? Maybe I have to swim across my ocean, and maybe you need to climb your mountain to reach the ‘other side.’ Maybe-“

“Oh my God, Amara,” interrupted Adam, “chill!” You’ll give me a headache by thinking to hard about whatever this is.”

Amara shot him a nasty look. “Adam. We are in the literal afterlife! Aren’t we supposed to do something? Like, I don’t know, watching over our friends? Throwing some kind of heavenly party?”

She stomped up to Adam, “You’ve been here a while, five years in fact. You cannot seriously tell me that you have not asked, or have not questioned anyone about this place?”

“What do you want me to say, Amara?” He shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know. No one knows. I’ve told you everything I know, and I’m not the type of guy to ponder my existence… death… whatever it is! Until you showed up, I haven’t even thought of having an existential crisis. Don’t you dare give me one now!”

“I-“

Adam threw his hands to his ears. “Blah-blah-blah, I’m not listening!”

With that, Adam shut his mouth and closed his eyes. Amara was left to, once again, stew in her thoughts.

***

“…I stepped in between Clarisse and falling rocks.”

Adam cracked open an eye. “Huh?”

“To answer your question, I got hit on the head by falling rocks when I pushed Clarisse out of the way. Only the shirts on our backs to clean up the mess, I guess.” She rubbed her hand across the wound and brought her palm to her face. No blood, no pain, no sign that she had been injured at all.

“Clarisse? Who’s she?”

“A friend of mine. You would have liked her. Everyone did.”

“Except those rocks.”

Amara whirled around. “Adam!”

He put his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Amara picked up another pile of sand but found herself beginning to laugh with him. For a few moments, they laughed as if Adam hadn’t insulted Amara’s sacrifice and instead had made some awful dad joke.

“Ha, I’d forgotten how rude you could be.” Amara shook her head and smiled. “Go back to the way you were in my mind, I think I like you better there.”

“Hey! And here I thought you befriended me because of my wit.”

“Sure…. I remember, when you died-“

“I’d have preferred the falling rocks.”

“Oh, you hush! I remember that you intentionally made your last words sound heroic. Something along the lines of ‘it is time for all of you to see another dawn in my place as I cannot go on any longer.’”

“Please tell me that made it to my gravestone!”

Amara shook her head. “You and your public image! Your death may have been preventable if you hadn’t stopped speaking!”

“It was fifty-fifty, I wanted to make sure I went out with a banger!”

Amara glared at him. To this day, she had never been as frustrated with Adam as she was then.

“So that’s a no?” Adam asked, hesitantly.

Amara nodded her head. “I had no control over your funeral.”

“Ugh, all that work for nothing?”

“Unfortunately, but that’s not the point. I took your stupid advice.”

Adam kicked her knee. “Don’t insult a dead man’s words!”

“Then don’t mock a dead woman’s fatal wound!” Amara retorted, kicking him back. “Anyway, I took her stupid advice. I set out to see the world.”

Adam flipped himself over, rested on his stomach, and propped his head on his hands. Well, where’d you go? What did you see? What did you do? I’m all ears.”

“I got on a boat and sailed around the ocean for a year. Then I joined a quest to find more resources for Aspen. We were heading back when-“

“Smack!”

“What did I say about insulting someone’s death, Adam!”

“Am I wrong?”

Amara reached over to smack him, but Adam scrambled away.

“Sorry, sorry, but that’s what you get for calling my last words stupid!”

Amara stuck her tongue out at him. “Fine, but the next time you say something snarky, you’re going into that ocean whether it exists or not!

“Anyway, as I was saying, I died when we were heading back.” She looked into the ocean, part of her hoping to see her ship in the ocean. “Only the stars know if they’ll be successful.”

“Adam leaned in and patted her on the back. “I’m sure they’ll do well. Especially since they won’t run into half as many problems without you on board.”

“Want to bet? And do your math right! I only cause a fifth of their problems.”

“Did you even do this ‘math?’”

“No, but it’s a good estimate.”

“Then I’ll keep my original estimate, and I’ll bet five bucks on it!”

“You do that Adam, you do that.”

They both settled into a familiar silence. Amara looked at her ocean and Adam faced his mountains. She made a mental note to ask any new person she came across what they saw in the distance, and on that note…

“Adam, why are you here?”

“I got stabbed in the gut,” he deadpanned. “You were there.”

“No,” Amara sighed, “no, I mean why can I see you?”

“Did you think of me when you died?”

“I can’t recall.”

“Hmm,” Adam gazed off into the sky, and he, surprisingly, seemed to be on to something useful. “When I want to find someone, I simply think of them and walk in some random direction. I’ll usually find them in the next minute. Or they’ll find me.” He paused, then added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if someone pops out of nowhere wanting to talk to you.”

“How do you know when someone dies?” Amara didn’t know how she felt about random people knowing when she was in the afterlife.

“You just get a feeling, like, ‘oh, this person has passed on to our realm now. I should go talk to them, it’s been a while.’ That kind of thing.” Adam shrugged. “You’ll get it when you experience it.”

“I hope it’s not anytime soon.”

“You’d be surprised. Sometimes it’ll be for a random person you’ve only had one conversation with. It’s…weird and spontaneous.”

“Interesting.” That was all Amara could reply with. Every second, her afterlife seemed to get odder and odder, but the pieces were starting to fit together.

“So you wanted to see me right when I got here?”

“Yes.” Adam smiled, “Like I said, I was bored.”

“Well, attitude aside, I’m glad to see you too.” Amara made an additional note to find Clarisse, hopefully in the distant future, when she entered the afterlife. And the meantime, she’d find her friends and family.

Adam would also find out that there was actually an ocean the entire time.

[niksfiks]

Gotta Get It Right: Chapter 7

PAIRING: Loki/OFC

RATING: Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: Trigger warning: mentions of dubcon, violence, PTSD, sexual assault, and physical abuse in later chapters.

Also on Ao3

Feedback is always appreciated (just being an attention whore screaming for comments/reblogs). Taglist is open

Tagging @fandom-and-feminism @fadingcoast @igotloki @mrshiddleston-uk @mischievousbellerina

A/N: Soooo....I have not only missed a week, but I can’t keep track of what day it is. Better late than never, right?

Chapter 7: Shall We Dance?

Only when the guards leading the parade to the throne slowed did Aleksa turn her focus to the man descending the dais.

Loki.  

He was shorter than she’d imagined. She knew he stood just over six feet tall, a good eight inches above her, but the massive horned helmet resting on his head added at least another foot of clearance while making him appear shorter, if not slightly ridiculous. The cloak around his shoulders didn’t help. It seemed to have been designed for someone else, dwarfing his thin frame. Asgardians have a fetish for bizarre apparel, she thought, though the research team would have assured her that it was all symbolic. It only made her distaste for monarchies worse.

Loki strode to the equipment stack as the guards stopped, dropping to one knee. He looked over the gear before turning to see the human military members still standing.

“Have you no respect for your superiors?” Condescension dripped from his voice.

“We don’t cower before our leaders, your Highness.” Aleksa noticed a flick of his fingers before their guards were suddenly upon her, forcing her to her knees.

Loki walked towards the group, studying each of them. He found them unremarkable, except for their leader. He was struck by the range of colors in the woman’s fearless eyes. She was attractive, even for a human, but he sensed something different about her, lurking just below the surface. With his curiosity peaked, the sadistic smile appeared.

“In the end, you will always kneel,” he whispered.

Aleksa suppressed a shiver. The man definitely had the charisma to be a god, and the ego to boot.

“Why are you here?”

“Cultural and anthropological archaeology. These researchers were trying to better understand the worlds around Earth and the races that inhabit them.”

“By sneaking onto Asgard and gathering intelligence about the strength of my armies?”

“The camp’s proximity to a training facility had no bearing on the work these people were doing...”

“But you know where they are,” he snapped. “You intended to launch a quiet strike against us. Why else would *you* be here?”

Aleksa shook off her guards and stood, eliciting gasps from the court members around them as she forced Loki back. “*I* am here to ensure that these innocent people are safely returned to their families by any means necessary.”

Loki stepped closer to her.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Not at all,” she responded. He was surprised at the calm in her voice. “We have no quarrel with you or Asgard.”

“Then why send a military outfit to lead these so-called innocents home?”

“Would you not send warriors to a potentially hostile world to recover civilians?”

“*I* would not allow unarmed civilians to enter a potentially hostile situation.” Loki stared at her for a moment, again caught up in her eyes, watching the slightest shift in their color. As he fought his body’s reaction to her scent, he wondered if he'd touched a nerve.

Aleksa found herself examining his face, noting that the gold helmet was reflected in the emerald green eyes boring into her. The harder he tried to intimidate her with his posture, the more she could see something hiding behind the malice. Something she recognized within herself.

“With all due respect, your Highness, what are your intentions with us?”

“I’m taking your research and adding it to the vast collection of our own. Outside of that, there is nothing you have that interests me.”

“Then you will release us?”

Loki shook his head. “Hmm, no. You were caught committing acts of treason against Asgard. The punishment is death.” He waved them off, striding back to the dais.

“Based on what charges?”

“The slaughter of two of my Einherjar. Take them.”

“How in the hells is that...” Aleksa struggled against the guards now holding her. Loki ignored her and the cries of the people behind her. She fought off one of the guards before being tackled by two others that pinned her to the ground. Out of options, she screamed.

“I challenge your claim to the throne of Asgard!”

Loki whirled around, laughing. “You what?”

“You heard me.” The guards holding her down released her, scrambling to get out of Loki’s way. Before she could even blink, Loki was in front of her, fuming. “Your claim to the throne is unjust. You are, at best, a regent in Thor’s absence. I challenge the legitimacy of your absolute rule!”

“How dare you! I am Loki, son of Odin, king of Asgard as named by...”

“You are Loki, son of Laufey, adopted by Odin.” The gasps of everyone gathered in the hall didn’t go unnoticed. Somewhere in the crowd, D’Varst allowed himself a small smile. “And as long Odin’s firstborn still lives, you have no authority.”

Loki’s rage filled the room.

“Neither do you, Midgardian.”

“Any soul of the Nine Realms may make a claim against the king of Asgard. That is your law.”

“Name your terms,” he sneered.

“My party are returned to Earth regardless, along with all of their materials, intact and unharmed.”

“And if I win?”

“You may do with me what you will.”

“There is no advantage to me in this.” He snorted, walking away as he continued. “You will die last, watching them suffer for what you have dared attempt.”

“Then you legitimize my claim against you.”

“How? When I win, I will do with them...”

“Me. You may do with ME what you will.” Loki began to scoff, then realized that he’d neglected to amend her terms. She’d outmaneuvered him into releasing his captives regardless of how their duel ended. And she’d done it in front of his court and half of Asgard. He wondered if she was valuable to him after all.

“Choose your weapons,” he growled.

“Daggers. No armor. And no tricks. The first illusion you cast, I win.”

“To the death, then?” Loki smirked when she nodded. “Too easy. You may have your challenge.”

Aleksa nodded and moved back to her group, shedding her flak vest and weapons belt. Reece approached her.

“Are you out of your mind? He’ll kill you before you even get close.”

“Probably.”

“You’re betting our lives on a promise from the god of deceit? You actually trust him?”

“Nope.” She smiled. “He’s arrogant, but not ignorant. Something tells me that he knows his seat on the throne is precarious. He won’t dare defy an agreement made in front of the entire court. Half of the people here are likely looking for a reason to get rid of him. He’s not stupid enough to give them one. Either way, I win and you go home. Get them off-world before the fight ends.” She took the daggers offered by one of the guards.

“Lex, I am not leaving you to die again.”

“Didn’t die the last time.” Aleksa met Reece’s fearful gaze. “Plan C. That’s an order, Captain. Tell Coulson we’re doing a full renegotiation of my contract when I get back.” She turned just in time to see Loki charging for her. She pushed Reece in one direction and dodged to the other, dropping into a roll. “GO!”

The group, led by Reece and Nessis, turned and hurried out of the hall, followed by two guards.

Loki watched the crowd close in around him before turning back to his opponent.

“I do hope you enjoy pain,” he grinned.

Aleksa lowered her stance. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Shut up and fight.”

“As you wish.”

Loki charged again, spinning right just before he reached her. Aleksa saw the shift a second too late, yelping when his blade caught her bare arm. She swung around, blocking his next strike and delivering a blow of her own, her blade finding the soft flesh of his cheek. The fight continued in equal measure for some time, each combatant trading hits and drawing blood. He knocked her to the floor with a backhand swing, she landed a kick to his chest that sent him sliding into the crowd. Furious that he was unable to gain any headway in the fight, he grabbed her from behind, knocking the blades from her hands. He spun her to face him, wanting to watch the life drain from her eyes when he slit her throat.

[omgmarieux]

Love is Strange [Part 1] // Roger Taylor x Reader

WARNINGS: Few curses, was it few?

NOTES: Okay here’s the whole part 1, thanks for taking an interest with it. This isn’t a good excuse but if there’s any mistake (especially the grammar), English isn’t my first language (even though I did proofread this part 2 times, yeah mistakes are bound to happen.) Anyway I hope you enjoy this one!

WC: 2.1K

Roger leaned over the door frame in awe as he watches the woman stand on her feet with her confidence that she always wears. Even with only her white bathrobe and a towel that rolls over her head, it made her look like a goddess. She had her black sunglasses perched on her nose as an accessory as she apply her red lipstick while leaning ever so slightly over the glossy countertop of the bathroom to watch her reflection in the mirror.

“You know it’s rude to stare.” She said with a thick accent then she pops and pouts her lips, admiring just how perfect the red colour fits on her.

“Yeah but I also know how enchanting you look like now. Ethereal, but kind of devilish inside.” Roger replied smirking, walking over her side and slightly pushing her on ass away with his to fit in the mirror.

“Hey!”

“You’re not the only one who needs to get ready.” He said, fixing his tie in front of the mirror. She just watch his reflection as he snarls his own necktie and she giggled at him, taking it from his hand and tangling a proper knot to his neck.

“You’re 30 and still don’t know how to properly tie a tie.”

“Most of the men don’t, even the elder ones.” He argued.

“Well you should try to differ, you like being exotic.”

He rolled his eyes on her remark as he flips her off. “Wear your goddamn clothes lady, we’re late.” He said walking out of the bathroom. She wore her dress, a red satin one with gold embroidery details. It fits on her curves as if the dress were actually made just for her. She took her bulky yet soft fur coat, a white one that’s long as her dress and she removed her towel from her head. She walks back into the living room and found Roger tapping his finger from his left hand and holding his cigarette in another hand.

“You sure we’re late? My hair isn’t dry yet.” She spoke as she sat on the velvet ottoman in front of Roger. He rolls his eyes on her, sure enough that she will still win the shaping argument. He taps the cigarette’s butt on the ashtray and let its spirit die.

“I’ll blow dry it.” He suggested, already standing up to take it from her bedroom and she’s clapping her hand in enthusiasm as she quickly moved over in front of the full length mirror their living room has. Roger walked back, and stood behind her. She plugged the hairdryer and he started to point it on her hair.

“Careful, my make up!” She warned and Roger just nod. He focused on how her hair was still perfect even if it’s lightly wet. He combs her hair with his hands, pointing the mouth of the dryer in every handful of hairs that he grabs. She always liked it when he touches her hair; she could fall asleep then and there every time.

She already had her eyes closed when she no longer felt the heat of the hairdryer and the noise had come to halt.

“It’s done, let’s go.” He said dryly, she could sense that she got him annoyed and impatient.

“Wait I need my shoes!”

“God fucking damn it.” Roger cursed under his breath and she froze on her feet.

“What?”

“I said nothing. Go get it.” Roger replied exasperatedly but you didn’t move. Her forehead folded into thin layers and eyes are bounded to tear up. She never liked this kind of Roger. It always gets her so emotional, even if it’s just a small useless thing.

“Oh my god Y/N! i didn’t meant—“ He was stopped when she stomped her feet away from him, hastily walking towards to her bedroom and inclining to slam the door heavily, and she did.

Roger brushed his blond hair frustrated with his hand, asking himself how did she get so upset over four words. He tries to calm himself down and walk on her door to knock.

“Y/N, c’mon, let’s go.” He tried to speak nicely, in a soothing voice. He’s not about to leave her alone just because they’re both late to a very important event or maybe important to him and not to her. After all, she’s already dressed and it’s rather impractical for her to take a cab wearing such a revealing garment even with the fur coat covering the rest. Though the dress’ view in front still left a little to the imagination.

“Leave me alone.” She said choking on a sob.

“Come on Y/N, you’re already dressed it’s such a waste. We do have to go.” He pleaded, wishing she would just caved so easy and she would stop crying so her makeup would not be ruined. He knows how her confidence fails when she doesn’t look so nicely with her appearance.

“She doesn’t like me there anyway. Why bother?” She replied, her voice muffled by a tissue.

“No no, Y/N. Listen to me love, she likes you there alright? Now open this door.” He cooed and he taps her door. She gave up and unlocked the door for him. He saw her mascara had flown down on before her cheek and he shook his head in distaste.

“Now I’m ugly. You could just go.” She said but he held her chin up, taking a tissue from her hand and dabs it on her lower eye.

“No love, we’ll fix it okay?” He replied. He took the powder from her vanity and applied a good amount on her cheeks.

“Now you look fine, shall we go?” He asked and her reply was a light nod of her head. He guides her to his car and the rest of the drive was quiet. When they entered the house, one with loads of fancy and shiny decorations, they could already hear the happy birthday song, toning down on to its end.

Adalene was encircled by the crowd with smiling faces. Roger thought she still looks fantastic as ever. Especially now, dressed in for an important occasion. The decorations had matched her entire appearance, her dress ends right before her knees reflecting sparkles from the light, so did the diamonds on her neck. Too bad he was late that he didn’t even get to sing her the whole happy birthday song. She blows her candle and the loud “Happy Birthday Adalene!” was heard which followed by claps.

“Thank you all for coming, just enjoy the rest of the party!” Adalene’s voice echoed throughout the entire room, sounding so happy yet her eyes was visibly disappointed.

“Go find the rest of the guys, will you be okay?” Roger asked with concerned and she nod at him and went off. She knows that in a party, when you get yourself dressed, you look for Freddie for approval, so she did. And she instantly catches his frame, a combination of red and gold crown on the top of his head, she quickly strides to his direction and greeted him with the happiest one.

“Hello there to you too Y/N!” Freddie squealed and hugged her. As they both parted, she twirled herself in front of Freddie as he watched her and she raised an eyebrow towards him.

“What do you think?” She asked excitedly.

“Stunning as always! Where’d you got this dress from?” He said with a huge smile plastered on his face, vertically gesturing on her dress.

“Roger got it for me!” She squealed, contented with Freddie’s approval of your ‘outfit of the night’.

“Speaking of Roger, where is he by the way? Adalene was looking for him earlier.”

“Oh he’s here somewhere. We’re kind of late.” She replied, eyes roaming the surroundings in hope to see Roger.

“Late with his own girlfriend’s thirtieth birthday party? Where’s the justice!”

She replied with a tight-lipped smile and shrugged. “I’m going to get a drink.” And with that, she made her escape. She knows that she’s the responsible one for Roger being late, and she hate to admit it, she is indeed guilty.

She walked towards the bar, it’s right before the kitchen, but when she heard two familiar voice arguing inside, she stopped on her tracks.

“Where the fuck were you?”

“Adalene I’m sorry, I had to wait for Y/N—“

“Y/N? Y/N! Y/N! Y/N! It was always her! Roger! I’m your girlfriend, I’m supposed to be the one you’re living with not her!”

Her face turned red in the mention of her name, embarrassed and guilty that she’s the reason that the lovers are fighting. Everyone would be able feel her anger from her voice even without seeing her face, right then and there, she were scared but curious at the same time.

“Then what should I do? Huh? Leave her?” It was more of rhetorical question to Roger but Adalene didn’t hesitate a second to answer.

“Yes!”

Her hearing went cloudy after that, she’s not sure where will their conversation ends, and afraid that something else would end along with it too. Not that she’s that supportive with their relationship, in fact, she didn’t give a damn about them, but she never liked two or more than people are fighting because of her. She hated that.

“You know what Roger!”

“What!”

They were practically shouting each words out right from their lungs, probably delighted that the party noise outside was louder than them.

“Choose! Fucking choose between me, and her!”

There was a short silence and she didn’t know what will Roger answer, so does Adalene. She doesn’t know which side is she taking, hers or her best friend’s girlfriend, because let’s face it, Adalene has a point.

“Oh dear god Roger! Are you seriously contemplating about it? Five fucking years Roger! Five! We’ve been together for five fucking years!” She heard Adalene choked on her words.

“What do you want me to say? ‘You?’ I’ve had Y/N since forever, no I can’t leave her that easy!” He shouted back. Y/N heart beat has conquered herself, and she could feel it in her entire body. She’s frozen and dead on the spot.

Adalene let a sob out. “Wow happy fucking birthday.”She mumbled. Roger’s eyes were on her frame, watching her wipe her tears. How badly he wanted to do that himself but he cannot even bring himself to touch her.

“You know what? Maybe we should break up.” She said more quietly that made Roger fume in anger. How easy if her to let go with one mistake?

He punched the wall and walked out of the kitchen but he shortly found Y/N just right there, standing and staring at him. He ignored her and then started walking even faster out of the house and her feet voluntarily followed his trail, almost running just to catch him.

“Roger!” She called him when they reached outside. He slammed his car door close and starts the ignition but not yet leaving with his car. He still waited for her even though he is raging in anger, sadness, and disappointment.

She was shaking by the time she sat on the passenger seat and closed the door beside her. Scared of what he might say, or him driving too fast, which he did the moment she’s settled on her seat. He instantly pulled away from the curb and drove off, speeding as fast as he can and in about fewer than ten minutes, they’ve already reached their apartment building. He turned the engine off and just sat there, basking in the darkness of the night, allowing himself to feel empty.

“Roger.” She finally made herself spoke, a low sound of her voice echoed inside the car which had his head turning to you, but she were afraid to continue. He noticed her shaking hand and took it to his, tightly holding and squeezing it to comfort her.

“I... I am so so sorry Roger.” She said, a tear escaping her eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, not ready for her dramatic apology. “I should’ve known, I shouldn’t have been a brat...”

“Shh. You were right; I should’ve left you in the first place.” He replied, the small amount of light coming from the moon allows him to look at her. She was shocked, not even for the first time tonight. “Oh no, no, love. Not that. I meant I should’ve left earlier than you.” Roger cooed and lightly laughs. “Goddamn it, come here.” He said as he pulls her by her two arms towards him and he hugs her tight. He kissed the top of her head and assured her, “I’m not leaving you, understand?”

She nods while her face is buried on his chest, her left over tears are wetting his polo, but he didn’t mind. All he was thinking of was how glad he is that he chose to stay with her instead, all satisfied with just being with her best friend.

END NOTES:I hope you enjoyed reading that.

- Okay honestly, where do you think of the story’s plot is going? 

 - Interested and want to be tag? Comment/ask/message away. Do not be shy :)

TAGLIST:

@caborhapch @ohtheseboysilove @drowseontaylor @stormtrprinstilettos @brianmaybeso @loveandbeloved29 @mrfahrenhcit @rogerinathehystericalqueen @rogswhore @galileofigarog @delightfullynlove

[elmidol]

The Fractures of War

Three Blind Tooke Part Three Death is an Art

Read on AO3

Warnings: needles/blood drawn, a twisted sort of love

Three Blind Tooke

 Part Three: Death is an Art

 Chapter Forty-Four: The Fractures of War

 Death cannot part

What is deepest in my heart.

So though you left me there alone,

I waited forever to welcome you home.

 Miscalculations were quickly becoming your area of expertise. The two Resistance ships were not joined by others. Furthermore, they settled on either side of you without attempting to attack the TIE in which Kylo remained. The Force user did not so much as twitch. His lax disposition was not due to arrogance. The voice of the pilot from the ship to your right caught you off-guard. You had expected Poe Dameron or another of the Wing Commanders. Anyone other than Rey. The young woman addressed the man by his title and name, to which he responded in kind: Master Rey of the Knights of Ren. Her previous reactions to his death had been far too genuine, or else you may have suspected she had all along known he was alive. Paired with the nervous utterance of her name from Finn, it was easy enough to deduce that she had felt him use the Force on you. Rey was familiar with the allure of the Dark side. You had been the one to push her away from the Supreme Leader.

 Fear crept into you the moment Kylo Ren extended an invitation to the two. His desire to speak with Rey on the Star Destroyer, the fact that he was holding fire, made you grateful for Finn’s presence. She was there to keep him grounded. Rey could not have requested Luke Skywalker to join her. That would had resulted in death.

 If you aren’t careful, you’ll enjoy it.

 Kylo Ren was visibly communicating with the Star Destroyer. Two TIEs had already deployed following the arrival of Rey and Finn. No one fired though. He would be informing those on the bridge that they were guests. A snort escaped you, one that earned a tilted head from the masked man. He could communicate with multiple ships at once, and he had not ended contact with you. It made you feel sick to your stomach. The moment that he gestured with his hand for Rey to head for the Star Destroyer, she obliged. Your eyes tracked her movements then those of Finn as he followed after her. Neither you nor Kylo Ren budged from your positions. The two Resistance ships entered the Star Destroyer, disappearing from your view.

 Due to his hatred for Luke Skywalker, he would never return to the Light, not while his uncle survived. That did not equate to an inability to work along with select individuals from the Resistance. Taking out Supreme Leader Armitage Hux, who clearly maintained a working relationship with Phasma, was a top priority for both parties. This was the gray area. Rey knew it. She had realized it before you did.

 Rey had felt Kylo Ren use the Force without feeling you die. His toying with you, it had an additional layer. Not a mere pawn. A symbol. A flag of temporary truce to the one with whom he had once shared a Force bond. They had trained together in your front yard on Naboo. Understood each other.

 Enjoyment had several definitions the same as respect. It did not equate to agreement.

 Silently you reflected on those who had passed senselessly away in the attack by Kylo Ren and his team of TIEs. Your hand on the controls, you flew your X-wing along the exact same trail that Rey’s ship had taken to the Star Destroyer. It would not be the flagship though the Supreme Leader was present. Ren operated differently than that. His enemies would not be granted access to his full arsenal. They would be blindsided by his flagship when the time came. That was how wars were won. It was how he had perished at the hands of Armitage and Phasma.

 An unwilling guest once more.

 There was no white armor. Any individual that had formerly been a stormtrooper—Finn’s reactions to some of the faces was proof enough that some had been—wore different uniforms or armor. The shades were similar to those of the other First Order. Blacks and reds. As he exited his ship, you noticed Kylo was cloaked in an outfit that was inspired by both the robes he had worn when first you had been captured and the clothing he had worn during your marriage. The robes were a deep red. The cape a dark gray. You turned away from him to inspect the crimson and black uniforms of his officers and soldiers. His technicians.

 Your attention was all at once ripped back from them to his face as Kylo Ren removed his helmet. His flesh was darker than it had been before. A bit tanned, as though he had been on a planet such as Jakku or Tatooine. The wound you had seen on his face when he had died had healed. His eyes were sightless. Your back hit the exterior of your ship, your gelatin-like legs failing to support your weight. That he was alive now hit you in full. It had a greater punch to it than the bite of the cuffs that were used to secure your arms behind your back.

 Rey and Finn did not have restraints. Though they frowned at your treatment, they were wise enough to hold their tongues. The Supreme Leader had promised safety and that the two of them were be permitted to leave once the meeting ended. Your fate remained to be seen.

 Struggling against your bindings was not an option for you. There was a lack of willpower to dedicate energy to such a task. The Supreme Leader of this faction of the First Order was someone you had not wanted to watch die. He had though. He had perished in your arms, and you were plagued with the fact that his revival meant you were again torn. You had become a Resistance fighter all over again, which meant that this man was more your enemy than he had been at the moment of his death. You should have felt no hesitation to strike him. Stars, he had just killed the your comrades. Right in front of you.

 The band of your wedding ring burned your finger, although this you attributed to a mental affliction rather than a factual, bodily injury.

 Kylo Ren had not yet addressed you since you had arrived aboard the Star Destroyer. His silence towards you continued, although you were aware that his order to summon Urvno to the bridge was due to your presence. You were escorted by four armed guards, whereas Rey and Finn had only a single guard each. Two of the Knights of Ren. Kylo Ren was behind them. He could easily striked through them with his lightsaber if he so wished—the Knights would deflect any attack Rey or Finn attempted to execute. Those guarding you could easily turn their weapons upon your allies. It was a wise, strategic arrangement.

 Rey failed to conceal a spark of curiosity that flooded her. Her head turned repeatedly. She inspected the crew with more than her eyes. Finn mimicked her, although his actions were less random. These men and women had once been his allies. Several of them recognized him from more than just a traitor poster or whatever the First Order had distributed when he had defected. Finn’s behavior you understood immediately. It was not until you arrived at the bridge and Rey spoke that you better understood hers. Several of the former stormtroopers and even a handful of the officers were Force sensitives.

 It made sense, really. Their abilities would have been ignored by Snoke. Now that Kylo Ren required an army to not only control the galaxy but to eliminate the other half of the First Order, he would train them. On top of that, Skywalker was training others. More than just Rey.

 “Major Peavey,” Kylo Ren said in greeting to a man who strolled up to him. A former Imperial perhaps. He might have despised Armitage Hux and chosen to join Ren due to that. Or maybe that had nothing to do with it. Whatever the case, Peavey tore his eyes away from Rey and Finn then worked to conceal his surprise. “Make the jump.”

 It would not be to anywhere revealing. A means of ensuring more Resistance or even First Order vessels did not interrupt this meeting. Peavey gave the order as Kylo turned to Rey. Your view of them was obscured by the bodies of two of the guards. They shoved you into a corner, down onto a makeshift seat. Their hands were rough. Fingers digging into you so that the miniscule padding offered by your jacket would do no good to guard against future bruising. You held in your grunts as best you good. There would be no satisfaction for them.

 When a noise did at last escape you, it was in unison with the arrival of Urvno. The man’s gasp of surprise nearly drowned out the light ah that hissed out along with your breath. The Supreme Leader’s head dipped towards the left. He said nothing. Did nothing more than alter how he stood. Yet the guards instantly stiffened and drew away from you. The physician recovered from his surprise. He eliminated the distance between you, and set the bag he had brought with him on the ground by your feet. His hands delved into his bag. He withdrew a needle.

 You were stunned. Your confusion grew as he worked to draw blood from you. One of the former stormtroopers worked open your vest and unzipped your jacket. It was pushed backwards, the arm of your shirt yanked away. The angle was awkward given the restraints. Yet Urvno made do without complaint. He had worked in stranger circumstances—Kylo eating you out in his presence first and foremost in your memory. Rey stepped in your direction. Two of the guards raised their blasters, ready to fire her way. It was doubtful that their blasts would hit; she would be able to deflect or stop them. Although, you reasoned, Ren would freeze them first. He would not chance damage to the consoles. The Supreme Leader ran his hand along the hilt of his weapon. This was what prompted Rey to freeze. Finn’s gaze traveled from you to Rey to Ren and back.

 “Why are you taking her blood?”

 Even before he spoke, you suspected that he would be forthcoming with her. She had failed to explicitly renounce her position as his Mater of the Knights of Ren. There remained the chance that she would rejoin him. Kylo Ren would also not want the situation to escalate to where a fight did break out.

 “In the past it was used in the creation of an amulet. That was how I prevented Skywalker from sensing my return as I drained the lives of others to heal.” You felt sick to your stomach. It was yet another reason why Urvno had been made to keep you alive. “Blood from one that I love. Blood from one that I hate.” He bent his fingers, and the chain that held Snoke’s ashes twitched. You could easily picture the smirk that would be on Kylo’s face. He had been present for the disposal of Snoke’s body. Whatever the amulet was, it had either been on his person or with the medics—maybe with Urvno—when he had died there in your arms. All they had to do was get his heart to start beating, enough to where he could use his Force abilities. The Dark side… draining the lives of others to heal himself. Who had he killed? His own allies? His enemies? Both?

 Did it even matter!?

 “She’s going to leave with us when this is done.” There was no room for an argument with how Rey had phrased her words, with the confidence with which she had spoken them. The Supreme Leader crossed the two fingers he had previously used to toy with the chain. It twisted, tight around your throat. It was not quite choking you, and you knew that it wouldn’t. His words echoed within your head. Blood from one that I love. Present tense. It had been a strange relief to know that the mixed emotions you felt were mutual. “You’re angry that she killed you, but—”

 “Oh.” It was a laugh. Finn reached for Rey’s wrist, and she stepped backwards into him, their hips brushing together. There were no words needed. Though certainly Rey and Finn could not know all that had transpired, it was now apparent to them that you had been innocent. Hurt flashed over the features of the young woman. The bond that you had been blocking out seemed to jump to life. Regret was flooding through her. Guilt. Frustration. Hurt. She wished you would have told her. Yet she also understood it on some level, the importance of the lie. It was how she had coped with the truth of her family.

 There were shared smirks and other expressions of amusement amongst the bridge crew. They had known the truth. It was obvious; for them to abandon Supreme Leader Hux in favor of following Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, the betrayal would have become common knowledge amongst those in the First Order. It pleased them that the Resistance was working with misinformation. This knowledge solidified the suspicions they had housed, that the Resistance did not know of Ren’s survival. He had successfully tricked Luke Skywalker, legendary Jedi Master. Since several of the gathered individuals here had newly discovered Force sensitivity, they gained confidence in themselves through their leader, who also served as mentor.

 Urvno dabbed at the area of flesh that the needle had pierced. The scent of bacta drew you out of your thoughts. The jump through hyperspace did not cause any change in behavior. Rey walked around Kylo Ren, who made no move to stop her now that she had gathered enough confidence to approach you. The female Force user knelt on one knee. You noticed that she had the lanvarok with her. A snort escaped you. She was so well armed, and here you were the one restrained. Because, you knew, you were the one who would have shot at one of the consoles without a moment’s hesitation. Reckless behavior, really. Always so blinded by emotions. The irony was that you were also the one who would instantaneously melt if the Supreme Leader touched you.

 It was not you that he touched. Kylo Ren had transferred his attention off of Rey, and was considering the once-stormtrooper. Finn squared his shoulders, however turned when the Darkside Force user started to walk behind him. He would not give his back to his enemy, especially one who had cut through his spine with a lightsaber. Finn’s fingers curled towards his palms. You had to give him credit for holding back a flinch when his enemy placed the tips of three fingers to his sternum.

 “I thought as much.” The current angle allowed you to see the smirk spread. “I felt it on Jakku... Skywalker has been training you.”

 In front of you, Rey clenched her jaw. She had hoped against all odds that this would go unnoticed. Urvno placed the vials of blood into a metal container, packed away his things, and walked towards the exit without saying a word to you. He had not bothered to fix your clothing. Rey did so, her hands making quick work of the task. Simultaneous to all of this, Kylo had broken contact with Finn in favor of addressing one of the bridge personnel, ordering that information was brought up on a display visible to Finn, Rey, and you. It was data that the Resistance had not been in possession of despite the fact that Luke, Leia, and Rey had felt the deaths when Supreme Leader Hux had attacked the planets prior to announcing himself.

 Those planets had had a higher concentration of suspected Force sensitives living together than most others. The cities that had been attacked housed the majority. The culling of Force sensitives had not started with the civilians either. Under Snoke, any stormtrooper suspected of having powers in the Force had been monitored yet ignored. Their abilities never developed. Now that Armitage Hux was in charge, he wanted to limit those numbers. He would still have the ysalamir, or so you strongly suspected. It was no wonder so many from the First Order had joined Ren. And now it further explained why Kylo Ren was allowing Rey to meet with him.

 While he wanted to wipe out the Resistance in the end, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren valued the Force and those who could wield it.

 “So… The First Order is hunting Force sensitives, and the Second Order is recruiting them.” Your teasing would have been more effective had you not slurred your words. You slumped where you sat, narrowed your eyes, and read through portions of the data for a second time. Your comment had earned you a few glares, and you proudly endured them.

 Finn was in appreciation of your humor. “We could be the Third Order.”

 “Sign me up.” Rey’s face was taking on a red hue. You knew that it was not out of anger. The young woman was not doing well with all of the eyes on her. Waiting to see if she would join in on the inappropriate humor. Lives were at stake. But that was war. And this was how you mentally and emotionally survived it. “Our slogan can be Because the third’s time the charm.” You and Finn shared a laugh. Yours trailed off as you swayed, unable to catch yourself with either of your hands. Your shoulder hit against the guard on your right. He shoved you back into place none-the-bit gently.

 It was as you were sobering that it dawned on you how different your behavior had been just then from the past...how long? That had been the you that Kylo Ren had never fully seen, not in person like this. He had not heard her either. Here he could never see that part of you. Only listen. You fought the growing urge to look his way. What was his reaction? Or did he have full control over his facial features?

 You tugged at your restraints for the first time for want of something, anything at all, to do. The mood between you and Finn was calmer, more sober. The pair of you considered the data as well as what it meant. Supreme Leader Hux had made it clear with Starkiller that he was capable of creating powerful weapons. The Force could only do so much against such a weapon. If he were somehow able to replicate it… And he would use that to hunt the Resistance and Kylo’s faction.

 “Hux has the majority of the ships…the weapons… That’s why you’re willing to use us.” No response. Only when Rey asked is that true did the Supreme Leader speak. He addressed her.

 That stung. A blow to your pride.

 “Fine.” Your shoulders rose and fell with your huff. Again did you tug your wrists in an attempt to pull them further apart. There was no misconception that you would succeed. The bindings would hold. The effort aggravated your arm, and it made you feel sick to your stomach. All of the stress, the emotions you were holding back due to the deaths of your allies, and having your blood taken from you—it was taking its toll.

 Kylo Ren was not ignoring you completely. “She’s in no condition to fly.” You closed your eyes to stop your surroundings from spinning. Rey commented that she would take you in her ship. You grit your teeth at that. Your X-wing could be repaired. If it was left here, that was one less ship the Resistance had. You protested your condition. A lie that everyone could see through. You were fine, or so you slurred out. Reopening your eyes, you caught Peavey’s smile. It was mirrored on so many of the faces around you. Another reason for keeping you bound. Poor circulation. He was purposely ensuring that you could not fly. He wanted your ship. Another trophy. Maybe to make up for the one that had gotten away.

 The man had never been the easiest person to read. You understood his true motivations only a fraction of the time. That was not to say you didn’t guess. Such as how you were guessing the reasons he had had you, Rey, and Finn board the Star Destroyer rather than transfer the data. To gauge the reactions. To toy with the idea of bringing Rey back under his wing eventually. To confirm Finn’s abilities in the Force. Definitely to have some of your blood taken for future use. Now your ship. Your X-wing, which would have intel on the Resistance that the First Order technicians could dig up if given enough time. Nothing too valuable...except for possible coordinates.

 You better understood why it was that Peavey grinned now whenever he glanced your way. You had been dealt a losing hand by his superior. Because of this you wanted to utter out the words I hate you with all the bitterness that you could muster. The problem? You couldn’t muster up any, and the words refused to leave you at any rate. You were still shaken over the fact that he was alive.

 Please. Don’t leave me alone.

 You had begged him to stay with you when he had been dying. Your teeth noisily clattered together, prompting you to clench your jaw tightly. The nausea swam through you again. It was stronger. You sucked around nothing then regretted the decision. Shook your head. Squeezed your eyes closed.

 “I’ll take her with me,” Rey repeated. Along with her voice, there were the sounds of footsteps drawing nearer. Two sets. One you recognized as Finn’s. The other… The other did not stop until its owner was directly in front of you. The restraints gave an audible groan followed by a click. They fell away. Your arms sagged forward, blood pulsing through them as they, painfully, began to liven. Rey placed a hand on the front of your shoulder, nudging you backwards. Your back hit the wall. The momentum made you gag. Had Kylo Ren been reaching for you?

 It was not the Supreme Leader who argued with Rey now, but Finn. “Her condition will worsen. She needs rest. You know her body can’t handle…” The frustration that welled up within you was half yours and half hers. The bond was strengthened now that you were not blocking her out. She might have been ensuring the connection remained due to Ren’s presence. She worried for you, could feel your own concern.

 Though your body was in much better condition after going through several medical treatments with the Resistance, there remained numerous weaknesses. You still tired more easily than before you had been injured. When it came to common illnesses, your resistance was down which meant a physician monitored you more closely, plus you had been given several booster vaccinations. One of the most frustrating things for you was that, as Finn had implied, your body did not handle nausea well. It sent you spiraling downwards if you were not given time to recover. Aggravating the vertigo, which would most definitely occur in the cockpit of the X-wing that Rey would fly with you as passenger, could leave you out of commission for longer than the Resistance could afford. Or, at least, longer than what you would deem acceptable.

 The anti-nausea medications that worked for you had the unfortunate side effects of making you drowsy. That would not be an issue if you flew with Rey, although it did circle back to your reluctance to leave your X-wing behind. Plus you had not brought any with you. Why would you? It had been a training exercise. You had not been planning to go into battle. Had certainly not stopped to consider that Kylo Ren would make his way back into your life like this.

 Stubborn tooke.

 The memory of that line as you recognized that you were too stubborn to ask your enemy, who was also your husband, for the drug. He could summon Urvno in an instant. There was the possibility of rejection. To initiate physical contact would be to lose the challenge that had begun; the both of you were reluctant to touch the other first. Though there did remain that possibility that Rey had thwarted Ren’s attempt. There was no winning, you reminded yourself.

 Without opening your eyes, you shifted around Rey’s hand and moved forward. The darkness provided by your eyelids failed to eliminate the sensation that all around you spun with those movements. You rested your forehead on Kylo Ren’s shoulder. Breathed in his scent. Marveled over how familiar it was. Wished that he would reciprocate. The war would resume later; why couldn’t he hold onto you for but a minute?

 “Supernova,” he said quietly, utilizing your new nickname, the one that marked you as an accepted member of the Resistance. It made your heart clench to know that you were no longer tooke to him. Your body shuddered against him. You were not his little tooke anymore. The words of the Knight who had joined Rey crashed over you.

 Death had parted you. It did not matter for how long or the cause of that death.

 A rich chuckle rang out, its sound preceded by other noises of amusement from those on the bridge. You mistook them for mockery, and started to pull away. All of your suspicions were proven correct. You seemed to melt against him the moment he placed a hand on the small of your back.

 “The First—”

 “Don’t call yourself the First Order,” you said, interrupting him though this may have been rude. “That… It’s filled with lies and prejudice and chaos. Is that really what you want?”

 You could accept that he did not agree with the New Republic or the Resistance. No longer could you understand him following the ideals of the First Order. All of the genocide. The culling of Force users and aliens alike. Anything nonhuman viewed as lesser. Was that truly what this man desired?

 “And what would you have us call ourselves?” That was Peavey speaking. He definitely clung to the xenophobia, being the former Imperial that he was.

 You tilted back your head and allowed your eyes to open a fraction. It was hard to look up into Kylo Ren’s face knowing that he couldn’t stare at you in return. He had always been so expressive.

 “The Order of Ren,” Finn said. It was the way that he said it and the smirk on Kylo’s face that had you wondering about how the Force connected all living beings. “You already renamed it.”

 “I did.” It was a reminder that Kylo Ren was intelligent enough to not show all his pieces at once. The name alone only said so much. It did not reveal their ideology as you had hoped it would.

 The Knights of Ren had increased in number with the new Force sensitives, and they had been joined by the officers of Ren. They clearly did not agree with the First Order. But what were they fighting for? What had they killed your allies for?

 “She misses you.” The words left unbidden from your lips. The Supreme Leader frowned. The hand that was on your back curled, bunching up the material of your vest and jacket as he clenched your clothing in his fist. The phrase come back was on the tip of your tongue. You did not speak it. It was obvious that he could not join the Resistance. All of his war crimes, all of the people who feared and hated him. “Was it my fault?” That he remained away after he had captured you. That he had fallen further and further into the darkness.

 “No.” His hand flattened, his anger leaving him the moment he understood your train of thought. “I do not need saving, Supernova.” There was the silent implication that everyone else did. At least, that you, Rey, and Finn did. Those with the Force, those who followed the Resistance or the First Order. The galaxy as a whole. He wanted to save it, although you did not know from what. “Rey.”

 “Yes?” You could hear her step forward. Those from the Order that had been guarding you made room for her. The young woman was being cautious. For good reason, you thought as you clenched your teeth when the man spoke next: the X-wing or you? He was not going to give up whatever bits of information he could pull from your ship. It was a wise move, something that you would have personally pushed for the Resistance to do if your positions were switched. That did not mean you liked it. “You already know the answer to that.” Rey did not bite back all of her irritation, however she was able to mostly maintain her composure. It was cruel of Ren to remind the three of you that he held most of the cards in this situation.

 It was equally cruel that he dipped his chin and rested his lips against your forehead without kissing you. You wanted him to kiss you. You did not want him to kiss you. You felt so nauseated that you again closed your eyes. He shifted the hand from your back up to cradle your head. Tendrils began to explore, not so painful this time. He was not working to read your memories. He instead spoke to you so that no one else could hear him.

 You shine so brightly, tooke.

 Your stomach did a flip. It took all of your remaining strength to hold in the sob of relief. You could simultaneously exist outside of him and with him. It was different than before he had died, as though he had learned something in death. You wanted to ask him what it had been like, what he had felt. Because, even if he hadn’t been able to see anything, he could hear and feel. He could learn. What had been there on the other side for him?

 You remembered begging him to not die and leave you there alone. Kylo Ren remembered this as well.

 We’re connected… You were my other fate, did you forget?

 It was strange but also it made sense. Kylo Ren no longer wanted you to die—devouring you was something completely different. He wanted both of his fates to find success. How would that be possible? It was all so...complicated.

 “You’re always a step ahead,” you whispered without hiding your annoyance.

 “Yes. I am.”

 You hated it, but did not have the energy to fight him. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren gave the order to summon Urvno, who would bring anti-nausea medication. Rey and Finn’s ships would be refueled. The technicians could begin work on yours immediately. He would not follow you, not this time. Due to Armitage Hux, Kylo had need of the Resistance’s temporary survival. Your success was not the success of the Resistance. Complicated, you repeated in your head. You wondered what he would do with the information from your X-wing and with the blood that Urvno had taken from you. Wondered this without asking as the medication was administered, as you slowly became drowsy. Wondered what the Supreme Leader’s bridge crew thought as he let you continue to relax against him. Then remembered, right before you drifted off, that this was not new to them, that they had previously been exposed to the connection. They probably knew more than you did.

 So frustrating.

[bibliothesoph]

Neverland, Flying (part 7)

Simon always enjoys these feasts. Back at his place, he doesn't have much food. Penny, being so little, doesn't eat much. But Simon is always hungry. Unfortunately, Neverland doesn't have any kind of marketplace so all of his food are things he's hunted or picked. Usually he has squirrels, oats, nuts, and berries, but the tribespeople always have a decadent display. Pig, stews, drinks, the whole nine yards. So Simon loves the feasts. Honestly, the feasts are the only time that he gets to eat properly. And he's excited to show Baz what these feasts are like. The music and dancing is always great fun, too.

When they arrive, the feast is already in full swing. The tribespeople are finishing setting the table for it and Simon feels his stomach rumble at the sight of it. Some people are already seated but waiting for the leader to commence the festivities. Since Simon still has a hold of Baz's hand, he gives a squeeze as he shoots him a smile.

Just as he's about to say something to him, the leader comes up to him with a grin on his face. Simon lets go of Baz's hand so he can shake hands with the leader. He's a tall man, quite broad-shouldered, and he's become Simon's pseudo father figure in Neverland, as was the leader before him and before him.

"We have great gratitude for your valiance today," the leader says.

Simon salutes to him. "Thank you, sir. Uh, this is Baz. My friend."

Baz shakes hands with the tribe leader and shoots Simon a strange look that Simon can't place. It sets his insides ablaze, though. Baz keeps doing that.

"Well, the feast awaits you, Simon. Come and eat with us."

Simon leads Baz over to the grand table so they can start eating. The tribespeople wait for Simon to sit at the head of the table before the feast commences. He knows this all too well now, having been at these events so many times. He thinks, for a moment, that he should be mildly concerned that Philippa gets kidnapped so often, but he shrugs it off. Just another thing that comes with Neverland, he supposes.

After a few minutes of catching up with some of the tribespeople, Simon turns back to Baz and smiles at him. He finds his hand under the table and gives it a squeeze, longing to feel the touch of Baz's hand on his own.

"Having fun?"

Baz nods. "The food is, surprisingly, excellent."

"Right? These people keep me fed."

Baz chuckles. "I'd say. You've already had two helpings."

Simon shrugs at him and takes a bite of the pig. "Fighting works up my appetite."

"I suppose."

The feast carries on for a bit longer, but soon enough, people are up and dancing around the massive bonfire that's been set up in the center of the huts. There's a group of people playing instruments a little bit away from the center of it all. Simon is whisked away to do a customary dance with Philippa, as he always is, but he quickly finds Baz after he's done. He's in a conversation with the leader when Simon tracks him down.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says, tugging at his hair. "Could I borrow Baz for a moment?"

The tribe leader nods and goes off to find his daughter, leaving Baz and Simon alone on the outskirts of the event. Simon looks at Baz for a moment and notes how beautiful he looks in the firelight. The way the soft light hits his incredible cheekbones and reflects in his eyes. The way it bounces off his silky hair.

Simon doesn't think he's ever felt like this before. Even with Agatha back in the day. And, once he got to Neverland, he never really had the need for any kind of romantic entanglement. The only girl he could have ever showed any interest in was Philippa, but she was never really an option considering that he watched her grow up. He knew her mother.

Simon puts his hands on Baz's waist and gestures for Baz to put his on Simon's shoulders. His touch feels amazing, like he's setting Simon's nerves on fire.

They sway to the music for a bit because Simon can't dance for the life of him.

"I'm confused," Baz says, his voice low and sending shivers down Simon's spine.

"What? We're dancing."

Baz rolls his eyes. "I'm well aware of that. I meant that I was confused about aging here. I thought the whole thing was that people don't age?"

Simon shrugs. "I dunno. I think it's, like, people born here age like normal. So the tribespeople grow old and die. Me and the pirates don't, though."

"Where did the pirates come from? When did Captain Humdrum arrive?"

Simon thinks about that for a moment, even though it's pretty hard to concentrate with Baz standing so close that Simon can feel his breath on his face. He hasn't, he realizes, put much thought into the time when he first moved to Neverland. There are gaping holes in his memory. He remembers Penny grabbing him, seeing the place for the first time, but then it kind of skips around. He doesn't recall seeing a pirate ship when he arrived, though, so he tries to think about the first time he had to fight the pirates.

"He wasn't here when I got here. I don't know when he showed up, though. Maybe a few years after I did?"

Simon wonders why Baz is so interested in this and if it has anything to do with his comment about how Simon and the Humdrum look alike. Simon really doesn't want to have to think about it––he hates thinking. Instead, he wants to pick up that conversation from earlier. The one where he told Baz that he makes Simon feel like he's flying even though his feet are still on the ground.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Baz says.

Simon shakes his head. "You're fine. Can I ask you something, though?"

Baz nods.

"Could you...when we leave and go back to my house...could you tell me a story?"

Baz grins at him. "Really? A story?"

Simon shrugs. "Yeah. I've missed 'em."

Baz shakes his head at him, trying to suppress a laugh. The sound echoes in Simon's mind, filling him up with something warm and bubbly. It shoots through him and it reminds him of that time that the Humdrum got a good stab in, only this feeling pierces him in a good way. It runs straight through him and flows up from his stomach. From his heart. It fills every fibre of his being. He feels like he isn't grown enough to full the full force of this emotion. Surely, if he were older, he could make some sense of it.

"Simon," Baz says, his arms moving down to clutch Simon's biceps.

Simon furrows his brow at him. "What?"

"Si––we're flying."

Simon looks down and sees that they are, in fact, flying. More like hovering, but they're certainly not touching the ground. Simon laughs at himself and, after a moment, Baz laughs with him. And they're two idiots floating in the sky on the outskirts of a party.

"Does this happen often? Just randomly floating?"

"No, never. I guess...I told you. You make me feel like I'm flying."

Simon takes them up a bit higher in the air, holding onto Baz to keep him steady. They float above the feast, leaving the fire and the people below them. Simon reaches one hand to cup Baz's cheek. To feel the smooth skin on his face under his calloused finger tips. He feels Baz tense up at the touch and, for a moment, Simon thinks that he's gotten it all wrong and that Baz isn't feeling this feeling, too. But then Baz smiles and melts into the touch so Simon rubs his thumb across his cheek. Baz's eyes flutter shut and he sees him start to lean in. Simon lets his own eyes close as he leans in, too. Their noses brush and he notes that Baz's skin is colder than his own, but he doesn't mind. He takes in a breath and leans in just a bit more.

His lips brush against Baz's. He lets them linger there for a moment, marveling at how soft they are. He pulls away after a second, looking into Baz's eyes.

"This alright?" his voice is a deep whisper.

Baz doesn't reply.

Instead, he takes Simon by the back of the neck.