#but that still limits me to what I can carry home in a backpack

[positivelyqueer]

Because I agonised for an hour or more this morning on how i would get groceries before 'allowing' myself to order them to be delivered:

You don't have to push yourself to your absolute limit constantly as a disabled person to prove you are worthy of care and support and recovery/improvement/symptom management. (I know this is a broad spectrum that varies for each person).

Abled people do strictly unnecessary things to make their lives easier all the time. You're allowed to do that too.

[ceilidho]

tell me something nuclear winter ghoap NOW!! (bo)

BO!!!!! ok you wanna read what i've got so far?? it's not very much but here's what i have for my project that's tentatively titled "permafrost"

At first, it comes as a series of lights in the distance, a gentle rain like a cascade of falling stars. And then, it goes dark.

It happens over the course of several hours. By the time the dust settles—and it never settles, never really settles, always hangs in the air and renders it unbreathable, unlivable—and the sirens quiet and the last few screams die off, there’s hardly anything left. Hardly anything left living. 

The initial blast doesn’t reach up the country and, for that, Johnny lasts the months after the first nuclear bombs are dropped. Somedays, he can barely recollect the hours after the initial impact; they come back in foggy chunks, stumbling out of his house, boots crunching over the glass that had been blown clean out of the windows, covering his eyes against the flash of light and staring out into the distance at the mushrooming cloud of smoke just cresting the horizon. The bottom falling out of him at the sight.

More bombs hit other parts of the continent, several in Russia, throughout Asia and down into Africa, and across the pond as well. The world goes up in flames in an hour. In his cabin up in the Scottish Highlands, crutches jammed under his arms in his haste to limp his way outside, he sees the blast and then hears it a minute or so later. A roar rippling through the air. 

It shatters the world. 

In the present day, the boat sways where it’s roped to the wharf, the waters choppy. Johnny sits on the deck in a foldout chair, fastening a new head onto his ax, fixing the metal wedge over the eye to hold it in place. The blade is cleaner than the one that’d just cracked, sharp from being run over the whetstone. He pulls his scarf back over his nose when it slips down his face.

His cabin in the Highlands hadn’t been a viable choice for longer than a few months, not after the cold had finally begun to set in. Too far up north. He’d made his way down south over the course of weeks, bringing with him only as much as he could carry. A bittersweet goodbye to the summer home of his youth, a hand laid flat against the door before turning on his heel and starting the long trek south.

It’s not any warmer farther down south, particularly around the coast where the wind gets bitterly cold, sinking into the bone. He’d found the boat on a whim, the only structure still relatively intact and, most importantly, isolated.

Making his home on an old boat might not win him any awards for brightest idea, but the downside to traveling further into the country, away from the untenable glacial weather up north, is that it coincides with the areas where the bombs were dropped, leaving limited options for shelter.

Months pass. Years pass. 

His ankle healed funny all those years ago from prolonged bouts of starvation before desperation kicked in and from traveling miles on foot. He’d driven a portion of the way down north until the roads had outlived their usefulness—asphalt cracked, chunks of bedrock spiking up out of the ground. The rest he’d managed with his crutches and a single backpack, leaving the car to rot some three hundred or so miles up the country.

It's some strange occurrence, Johnny thinks at age thirty-something (he’s lost count), that his lot be murky, for death to miscount. He witnesses an apocalypse and comes out the other side. Happenstance. Coincidence, that he’s discharged from the military not a month before the first bomb hits London and leaves a crater that never fills, that never heals. A pockmark in the earth. 

His lips twist bitterly. The price of a long life is a barbed and slick soul. 

​​Immortality sometimes occurs to him, or godship, but neither option rests well with him and Johnny wonders if this is how gods are born: not of sea foam but of inevitability, of miscalculation, of death's err, of smallness, of acorns he carried as a child through pastures behind his summer house.

He sniffs. Cuts that memory off at the quick.

Johnny gives himself a couple more minutes to fiddle around with the ax before looping it into the gear loops on his backpack and buckling it in.

[MISSING STUFF HERE]

Much of the city has returned to nature, rubble encased in snow and ice; the stores have long been looted or reduced to ash from the blast. 

[literallyjusthereformods]

I've Been Holding This Hand For Eons And I'm Not Gonna Stop Now

It’s the first day of college, and it’s finally the day I get to meet you.

I’m walking down the stairs. My legs are trembling, but I make them still.

You look different. You always do. But you’re still the same. I can tell by the way you look at the flowers.

It’s the same look you used to give the ferns all the way back then, before the flowers existed. 

The red ones were your favorite.

They still are. I see you unconsciously searching for them. The way your eyes light up when they fall upon the blood-colored petals in the school’s garden.

You don’t see me yet. I’m pushing through the crowd. I’m slinking between backpacks and vests in a sea of first-time scholars. 

I’ll be the one to reach you first. I always am. I always will be, friend.

I’ve held your hand for eons.

I remember when you picked me up off the street in your motorhome. I had been walking for thousands of miles. You took me into your home, and I laid beside you in your bed. Me, in my dingy leather coat. You, in your old faded t-shirt. 

You liked to listen to the radio, in that life. It had been a novelty for a few decades, but this was the first time it had caught your attention.

The radio waves buzzed in the air as my blood soaked into your shirt. We were chest-to-chest on the floor, and you were holding the knife.

We cut fruit open together in the summer with that knife. The bees would circle us curiously, and we would kiss with fruit juices still on our lips.

I had a feeling that blade would be the same one you used to end me. 

I remember the adventures we had in the existence before that one. We were two thieves in a city too big for us small creatures.

We were cornered on the edge of a rooftop once. Your life flashed before your eyes.. I carried you for six miles across the skyline… to the outskirts… in my arms by the power of my wings. You trembled the entire way.

But we made it. We landed in a condemned factory outside of city limits. Once your feet were on the ground, you fell to your knees and began to cry. I stayed with you, through your panic. I spread my wings over us both when it began to rain.

The next morning we took a taxi back into the city and stayed in a rundown motel.

We died young, in that time around.

We were running for our lives from law pursuit. I looked back for just one second at what horror we had done. It was just a second. 

I felt the blood running down my face before I heard the sound. Pieces of my skull hit the floor. 

You, in your panic, had pulled out your gun, and you had cut the dead weight from your escape.

You didn’t make it out of there. You were gunned down seventy-three seconds later. They rained upon you a hell of bullets, for your singular one.

I had tried to run from you in a time before that, but in that life my wings had been born undone. They were small, and could barely unfurl. You had the advantage in a barefoot chase, and I was snared by the ankle in one of your traps. Hunter’s pride and gluttony shone in your eyes when you came to my side, as I lay exhausted on the ground. What you did with me, I never found out. But a century and a half later, I’m convinced that one pelt that hangs in the museum is mine.

I step out in front of you, and hold out my hand. “Hi, my name’s Siruan. Would you like to walk together?"

Surprised you stop, looking me up and down. Then, you silently take my hand.

Your thick, hoofed fingers are wrapped gently in my talons.

I’ve been holding this hand for eons, and I’m not going to stop now.

[clatterbane]

One good thing that came out of today's early morning trip out for more bullshit bloodwork: I found some promising-looking vegetables, which are pretty exotic by local standards but remind me of home! One of the benefits of living in an immigrant-heavy neighborhood. (Doesn't really matter where from IME, just as long as it's got longer warmer growing seasons there.) Hasty lap shot of today's haul when I was about to head home.

Much better view after getting home! Some nice young examples of one common Middle Eastern variety of summer squash, along with some okra. Which was borderline overgrown by my standards, but it didn't feel like it was going all tough and dried out yet--and it's the nicest fresh okra my admittedly near-hermit ass has spotted in years.

On the way home this morning, I got Mr. C to drop me at the nearby shopping center, so I could pick up an Instabox package (shoes) and enjoy the weather and a little exercise while "strolling" the rest of the way.

It was still early enough that at least half the businesses weren't even open yet, but that also meant that things were enough less busy that I felt like I could get in more easily for a better look at a couple of stores I'd wanted to check out more. One of them a halal butcher shop with attached fruit and vegetable shop just across from there, obviously run by the same people. Both are usually mobbed enough that I haven't felt like shoving myself in--especially with the chair.

The butcher side was still not looking so accessible, even with only a couple of other customers in there, plus a few workers finishing getting things set up for the day. I also figured that I didn't really need to go on an early-morning meat buying spree in hot weather--much less when my backpack was already completely full of shoebox, and carrying capacity was already pretty limited. So, no meat for me.

The other side did, however, lure me over with some gorgeous plums. Which sadly turned out to still be so hard that I noped away from those. Yes, I am that produce prodder, and I can be particular. Was hoping they would have some nice leafy greens out front today, but no such luck.

But, then I did spot the okra and then the squash.

I didn't grab much today, since I am the only one in the house who really likes either thing. Plus the okra was running the equivalent of US$7.69/kg, or roughly $3.50/lb. 😓 Squash was $2.90/ or $1.30/lb by comparison. I got away at about $2.50 for both of them together, which really wasn't at all bad by local standards. I am also cheap as hell sometimes and also still mentally comparing with prices on locally grown squash and okra in a much more rural area 15-20 years ago when I was last buying anything back home.

I am also now lowkey pining for some Floyd County peaches, and J. Random Farmer's cantaloupes that he's selling off his truck by the road. Then there's the fresh just-picked regional variety corn. 🙄

If that okra is any good and I see more there in nearly as good a shape, I may have to pick up enough more to try pickling a few jars of it. That's one thing that I do miss sometimes, and I don't really want to try with the frozen stuff--which is usually better for cooking than what I see fresh anymore.

The produce side also carries a bunch of dried fruits and nuts, and some other loose bulk goods including some interesting-looking Afghan brown sugar in like fist-sized chunks which I'd never seen before, but made me think of panela or jaggery. May need to try me some of that.

Also looks like the place to go if you want a sack of pumpkin seeds or similar at reasonable prices! Today I did not, and also did not particularly want to carry that home in my lap because that would have been the only place for it.

Their produce is all out front, but I did go ahead and bull my way back through the rest of the store to get a good look at the dry goods. Needed to shove a couple of obstructions out of the way in the narrow aisles, but I was the only customer in there at that point and idgaf. It was well worth a look around. May need to go back another morning after a few things that looked good.

There is also a spice shop a couple of doors down, which always smells heavenly to go past but is usually so packed that even Mr. C hesitates to peruse it on foot. There were few enough people in there too that I had to roll through and case the joint. Did look and smell like some quality stuff at decent prices. Also some pretty good looking bulk bin dried fruits and nuts and other snack items, and some assorted Middle Eastern sweets. I didn't buy anything there either today, but will probably need to make a morning raid on that too before too long.

But yeah, the day was not all bad. I also got to see a delightful young Boxer out for a walk on the way home.

[ashrillvenheim]

Awakening Past

Chapter 20

NOTE: I mentioned in the previous chapter my method of limiting myself to the pages I write. Well, in THIS chapter I seem to have FORGOTTEN. The ones that come after if I have stuck more to that rule XD

pairing: Ashley Graham x Leon S Kennedy.

Content: (+18) romance, angst, gore, erotic/suggestive themes at some point, slow burn, violence, action, self-harm, death talk,

If you're a MINOR DON'T keep reading, thank you.

Archive of our own / WORK LIST / Awakening Past Masterlist

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Narsson drank water for the twelfth time and cleared her throat softly. Here she thought the trip was going to be exciting and she would have a lot to talk about. They'd been provided a private jet for their trip to Norway and Enma would be elated... if Ashley wasn't quiet and impassive as an iceberg. What had gotten into her? She thought about asking him, but then... she remembered their mild confrontation days before, when she told him she was sleeping with Leon. It was definitely normal for her to be angry.

The teacher sighed and got up. 

"I'm going to get something to drink, want some?"

Ashley let out a single grunt of denial and Enma rolled her eyes walking to the back seats of the plane, where Leon, Chris, and Jill were. Redfield saw Narsson's long face and leaned back in the seat.

"Is something wrong, Enma?"

"I don't know what's wrong with Ashley, but she looks like she's carrying a ticking time bomb about to explode."

This time it was Leon who breathed heavily.

"Yes... yesterday... she came home very angry."

The three of them turned to him.

"And do you know why?"

The agent kept sliding his finger across his cell phone, reading the latest news.

"She didn't tell me, but..." he fell silent suddenly, remembering how she undressed in front of him.

"But?" asked Narsson with some impatience.

"She had a date, so whatever it was, something had to go wrong."

Enma's eyes widened in surprise. Ashley had gone on a date? With whom?

"Did I know him?"

"Narsson," Leon's voice was a little dry. "This is not the time for gossip, okay?"

The woman was surprised at the man's blunt tone, feeling a shiver run down her spine. It was as if... he was also irascible about Ashley's situation, had they fought? The truth was, it was burning Leon alive inside that night. The one date night Ashley had and she came back barely an hour and a half after she left. Something went terribly wrong. And from the way she asked him half naked if there was something wrong with her, he could tell it had been something that Dylan had done.

He raised his blue eyes to Ashley's seat in the back and caught her profile looking out the window. When they got back, she would have a little chat with Dylan.

"Ladies and gentlemen passengers, please fasten your seat belts."

Narsson hurried back to her seat next to a mute Ashley and they waited for the plane to land.

*

Time had decided to go against them. They had arrived in Oslo, where one of those rare summer storms would take place and the temperature was lower than they had expected. Even when they arrived at the hotel, they were notified that a polar front and probably snowfall would be coming in the next few days.

They went up to their respective rooms with little more than their carry-on bags, something that Narsson found horribly hard.

"I still don't know how you can travel with so little," said the anthropologist. 

Ashley dropped her backpack in the closet and plopped down on the bed.

"What more do you need than clean underwear, a toothbrush, a bar of soap, and two changes of clothes, huh? All that stuff fits in a bag and you have plenty of room left over."

Enma growled indignantly and Leon laughed softly, aware of the influence he had had on Ashley's attitude. Efficient and simple. Enma grunted at the blonde's response and went to the bathroom.

"I'm going to take a shower before you tell me to use the rain for that too."

Jill laughed and pulled out her things. They split up the rooms, leaving the three-bed side for Jill, Ashley, and Enma, and Chris and Leon the double on the other side of the room.

Ashley turned her head toward the large window and watched the dark clouds beginning to form on the horizon. She didn't mind the cold, in fact, it was pleasant to her in regards to the smells. Winter and autumn were the times when she had the least headaches, as the humidity made them cooler, unlike summer. Her thoughts were lost as she heard the voices of the agents in the background and Leon became aware of her absent air. He was still thinking about what Narsson had asked him on the plane. They were on an official mission and all he could think about was what had happened that night. Ashley hadn't told him anything else and it was eating him up inside. He sighed heavily and tried to think of something else. He glanced at the clock and grabbed his jacket.

"I'm going to go ask what time dinner is." He turned around to head out of the room.

"I'm coming with you."

Leon froze as he heard Ashley's voice and saw her walk past him. The man stood transfixed for a second, where he met Chris' eyes and he gave him a soft affirmation, encouraging him. Kennedy took a deep breath and walked out with Ashley into the hallway.

In the elevator, Leon felt his nerves churning in his stomach and decided to pull out something to chat about before Ashley noticed, although she probably would have already.

"Do you think I can't manage to ask about dinner?"

The soft laugh Ashley let out made the man suddenly calm down.

"I don't trust your Norwegian."

"The receptionist knows English."

"Yes, but the gentleman who works with her doesn't, so what do you do if he attends to you?"

Leon smiled.

 "I trust my sign language skills."

"Well, I don't."

Leon finally laughed and they were silent for a few moments. He thought about it and went to part his lips to ask her about the incident when the metal doors opened at reception. Ashley walked out first and Leon followed with a sigh. She could feel the tension between them since the argument they had at the museum, where he reproached her for only having eyes for Narsson. After that happened about her dinner and they hadn't spoken again. And she didn't like it at all.

She snapped out of her thoughts when they approached the counter and an elderly man served them in Norwegian. Leon turned to Ashley who gave a mocking pat on his chest and struck up a conversation with the man. Leon stood listening to her engrossed, when suddenly his cell phone vibrated. The man took his eyes and attention away from the counter and slid his finger across the messages, seeing a number he didn't know. It was Emily. He arched his eyebrows and opened the notification, not expecting what he saw next.

It was a piece of news. A short, unfocused video of an altercation in a restaurant with a gunman. Leon's thumb paused as he read another message from Connors.

“Tell me it's not Ashie.” 

Leon was struck mute and reflexively clicked on the link to the video. It was barely ten seconds, but in the low quality, he could see a gunman pointing a weapon at some people and one of them was tapping the gun before the shot and then reducing the assailant. It was not clear. It didn't have good quality or good focus. But it had blond hair. And the way to get rid of an assailant with a gun was the same technique he used.

His blue eyes lifted to his companion, who was still chatting with the old man at the hotel, and then he looked back down at his cell phone. Emily had texted him again.

"And?"

He took a second and then typed in the answer. If that video was real, the time Ashley arrived... how agitated she came back... it fit that situation. He told Emily and she replied.

“Has she told you about it?”

“No.” He replied.

“I see...” Connors took several seconds to text her again “maybe it's not her, if she didn't tell you it could just be a fluke.”

Leon knew Emily didn't think so, any more than he did. Because it was too much of a coincidence. But he answered her the same way, trying not to make a big deal out of it and then saying goodbye to her. But now there was already a demon inside him demanding to know what the truth was. His muscles were tense again and his heart was racing as he saw Ashley finish speaking and look for him in the crowd. It didn't take him long to find him and walk towards him.

"They have food service for the rooms, they have dinner here very early."

Leon affirmed without replying and Ashley arched her eyebrows.

"Is something wrong?"

The agent summoned all his training and answered matter-of-factly.

"Yes, the jet lag is killing me and I think I'd like to take a shower before I order dinner."

Ashley didn't doubt his words. She had no indication that he was telling her a lie, so she nodded and turned toward the elevator. Leon watched her walk and his countenance became somewhat more serious. Luck smiled on the man when no one else entered the elevator with them. His mind was going a thousand, still replaying the brief video he had seen, but he wasn't going to mention it to her, that wasn't right. So he opted for what he thought that day when he walked into her house and almost got naked in front of him.

"Ash, what happened that night?"

He heard Ashley's heart skip a beat and turned to look at her.

"And don't tell me 'nothing'."

The blonde sighed, aware that there was little she could hide from Leon at that point, but... she didn't want to tell them about her misfortunes.

"I guess everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong."

That was her answer and, honestly, Leon had expected something more elusive. Even if it was vague, it told him enough about the situation. He clenched his fists.

"Dylan did something to you?"

Ashley could sense the irritated tone of the question and for a moment she felt again everything she went through that night. Everything that made her arrive at Leon's house almost in tears and almost undress in front of him. He had to swallow his breath before answering.

"Why do you care so much? I didn't ask you about Narsson."

There went that little knife again. Leon frowned at his companion's hurtful words, but he didn't hold it against her. He was just being honest.

"Because I care about you, Ash, and... I've seen you down since then."

Those words made Ashley feel guilty for what she had just told him and she sighed to make amends for her defensiveness.

"I turned out not to be his type."

Leon watched her. Wasn't she going to tell him about the armed man incident? Or maybe she wasn't because it hadn't really been her.

"And what was his type?" he asked, wanting to see what else he could get out of her, but he didn't expect Ashley to give him a blunt answer.

"At least not one that could break his arm with her bare hands."

The elevator stopped with a "ding" and Ashley stepped out first, leaving her interrogator behind. She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want to describe the way Dylan looked at her when she took the gunman down, when she almost dislocated his shoulder. She didn't want to tell him about the helplessness she felt when her date had idealized the Ashley who sang drunkenly that last time. A woman eager for romantic affection and with a seductive, mysterious air. That was the image Dylan had had of her. And that was shattered with a simple show of force.

Ashley clenched her fists, holding back the lump in her throat. Even that night she refused to cry out of shame that Leon would hear her. And she still carried a needle in her chest. Was it that hard to like someone in all her ways? She opened the door and walked in with a sigh, followed by Leon, who looked at Chris with a long face. Redfield understood that whatever conversation they'd had, it hadn't improved the situation they were in much.

"Any news?" was all the brunet could say as Ashley jumped into the shower.

"We have to order the food," Leon explained, sitting down in the shared living room. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Ashley grabbed her sleepwear and walked quietly to the bathroom. It definitely hadn't changed a bit and worst of all, he knew she hadn't told him the whole truth. Was she ashamed to tell him? Leon thought for a second and finally growled to himself. How could she tell him about her romantic emotions when he himself lied to her every time she asked him about his? 

God, he was such a jerk.

*

After everyone had cleaned up and made themselves comfortable, they called room service to order dinner. Narsson had been lying in bed from the long trip, so Ashley took over translating the orders. Chris, Jill, and Leon listened to her like children, still amazed by the strange language that sounded alien to them. Ashley managed to tune out a bit by speaking in another language she had so far only shared with Narsson, and a part of her started to feel better when she was done.

When dinner arrived, Enma awoke from her coma and they ate together in the living room. They planned out everything they would do tomorrow at the museum and got a few things in order. Chris and Jill ran down the list to Narsson about the confidentiality of the trip and the half-truth about the BSAA's involvement as a means of security and blah blah blah. They all knew Narsson would end up doing her own thing, so they would make sure to keep an eye on her.

With their bellies full, it didn't take long for them to go to sleep, and although not everyone's mind was at ease, the fatigue of the trip ended up dragging them deep into the darkness of dreams.

*

They had brought a lot of new pieces with them since the last time Narsson came. It was Ashley's second time traveling to Oslo, the first being the year she started paleobiology at Amherst. Her amber eyes swept over the various display cases that protected specimens of the fossils found by Narsson early in her career as an archaeologist. Through the glass, she saw the three agents prowling the hallway with watchful eyes, on the lookout for any movement. She noticed Leon looking at some old bronze pieces and for a few seconds she remembered their conversation in the elevator. He knew perfectly well that he was hiding part of the truth from her, he was no fool, but at least he had been considerate enough not to bring up the subject again. At least for now.

"Narsson, long time no see."

A male voice sounded next to her speaking in Norwegian and Ashley saw a man hug her former tutor.

"It's been a while, Professor, do you remember my student? Well, she's graduated, she's not my student anymore," smiled Enma pointing to Ashley, who shook the man's hand.

"Of course I remember you, young lady. How's your Norwegian?"

Ashley smiled broadly. 

"Much better, sir."

The professor arched his eyebrows in surprise and clapped his hands proudly.

"Impressive."

Graham felt a great satisfaction come over her as the three of them began to chat and this time she actually managed to follow the conversation.

As the three of them chatted, Leon watched Ashley get into her sauce. Chris and Jill noticed the way he was looking at the president's daughter and decided to mess with him a little.

"You're going to erase her face from staring at her," Jill whispered in a mocking tone, causing Leon to turn quickly to her.

"Just listening," he turned to the other relic, but Chris rounded his broad shoulders.

"Yeah yeah, sure Kennedy. Hey, were you able to figure out why she was that mopey on the plane?"

Leon sighed, remembering the video and the conversation in the elevator.

"Sort of, although she didn't want to tell me."

Chris and Jill looked at each other and it was the woman who followed.

"Are you sure it's nothing serious?"

Kennedy thought long and hard about telling them, but he didn't want there to be any problems later, so he opted to tell them what Ashley had mentioned.

"It was a date gone wrong. Very badly," he finally punctuated, looking at the red stone bracelet on his wrist.

"Is she like this because of a bad date?" Chris was surprised and Leon glared at him.

"What, she can't be like that?"

Chris was amazed at Leon's sudden change in attitude and shrugged his shoulders with a sigh.

"I'm not saying she can't, but we've all been there, haven't we?"

"I think you and Jill have rejected others more than you've been rejected."

"Well, I mean, yes, but you get the same hard time," Jill justified.

This time Leon laughed derisively.

"No, it's not the same at all," he growled under his breath, the voice of his memories taking power in him, making him think of his past relationships and how they made him feel like a loser.

Chris and Jill sensed that darkness in Leon's words and were aware of how little they knew some facets of him. Chris cleared his throat and tried to work something out in the direction of the conversation.

"And... has she told you why?"

"No," the man answered in a whisper, ‘she just walked into my house all of a sudden and undressed.’ he thought to himself and then added. "But whatever it was, it's something that asshole told her."

Jill stared at him for a few seconds and Leon turned to another display case.

"You're not... jealous?"

Leon stiffened.

"Me? Jealous of what?"

Valentine jabbed his elbow gently.

"Of that guy asking her out."

He looked at her with reddened ears and frowned, looking away.

"I'm just pissed off because he gave Ash a bad evening, not jealous."

He remembered the dinner they shared after Ashley's presentation. On how they laughed and played. It was a very nice evening and that was how the one the other day should have been.

"He doesn't deserve her then," Chris said in a firm tone and Leon looked at him.

"Definitely not," he agreed with the dark-haired man as he looked through the glass of the display case at Ashley's figure.

Narsson chatted a while longer with his old professor while Graham said goodbye to him to go and explain the situation to the agents. The three turned to her.

"Well, he said-"

"Ash, in our language," smiled Leon. Ashley looked at him in confusion, until she realized he had continued speaking Norwegian.

"Sorry, we've been talking about Narsson fossils and the like."

Chris crossed his arms.

"What's the latest?"

"It's not a clue per se, but he mentioned to us that to the north, in the direction of Tradheim, in the more coastal area, they are carrying out small excavations in search of ancient Scandinavian vessels or objects. They seem to have found primitive sites half a year ago and started digging about a month ago," Ashley explained, looking at the notes in her notebook.

"It doesn't seem to have much to do with what we're looking for, does it?"

"No, but in Spain I doubt the miners in that town expected to find fossilized parasites. You never know."

It was a valid enough argument in view of the situation, so Redfield nodded without complaint.

"And where did you say it was?"

Ashley named the directions Narsson's professor had given her and watched Chris's brow slowly crease.

"I think I'm going to buy aspirin for the trip, my head is going to burst with this language."

"Don't be exaggerated," laughed Ashley and then saw Jill and Leon's expressions. Leon responded with a sigh.

"Ever since I started going to college with you, I still don't understand shit every time you talk to Narsson."

Ashley rolled her eyes at the sight.

"I'm going to buy you a goddamn dictionary," grunted the blonde.

"Hey, that's what we got you for, right? To translate," smiled Chris, but Ashley sighed heavily.

"The one who's going to need those aspirin, is going to be me...."

The agents laughed helplessly and one of the museum guards hissed for them to lower their voices, making all four of them blush with embarrassment. Ashley scolded him and they were invited to lunch by Emma's teacher, something none of them denied. Their stomachs, already empty, rumbled so loudly they feared they'd be thrown out of the museum at that rate.

*

Chris cursed for the nineteenth time when he heard the desperate voice of the GPS.

"Shut that thing up Jill."

Valentine rolled her eyes.

"I wouldn't have to if you just followed the guide, why the hell didn't you turn at the exit?"

"Because it didn't look like it went anywhere to me."

Jill wanted to strangle him. Her murderous impulses were definitely starting to burn inside her.

"What didn't you think? You're in a foreign country! What the hell does it look like to you if you don't know anything around here!" Jill burst out, unable to take it anymore.

"Please forgive me, Miss Smarty Pants! I'm sure you've got the address wrong!" exclaimed Redfield, losing his patience and about to rip the GPS off the dashboard when it spoke again.

Jill looked at him in disbelief.

"So now it's my fault? You've got some balls."

The trio in the back seat listened quietly to the scene, but all three thought the exact same thing.

They looked like a marriage.

"I'm sure you spelled the address wrong." Chris repeated, tapping the little machine somewhat aggressively. Jill slapped his hand.

"You're going to end up breaking it, you handful."

"Then fix the damn address yourself."

"The address is right, I typed it in." Ashley said nervously from the back seat. Jill put her hands up to the sky.

"Thank God! Someone who agrees with me."

Redfield grunted, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

"Then the thing is broken."

"How about you do what it says and stop complaining?" Leon finally jumped in with a sigh.

"Kennedy, you shut up, you're prettier."

The agent grunted, throwing his head back and hearing Ashley and Narsson laughing beside him.

"You're a fucking ogre when you're angry." he mumbled.

"I'm not angry."

"And a liar too."

"I'm going to break your mouth Scotty."

Leon was annoyed at Chris's tone and his name.

"Oh, I'd love for you to try, Christopher."

When they managed to stop that pitched battle and Chris finally decided to listen to the GPS, they managed to get back on course, but made a stop for gas.

While Jill gave Chris a piece of her mind for being stubborn, the rest of them went out to stretch their legs.

They had rented a van to travel to the seaside town that Narsson's teacher had told them about. It was the most discreet thing to do and right now they didn't want to attract so much attention.

Enma went to the gas station to buy something to snack on and Ashley decided to venture towards the cliffs in the background.

The wind was strong and was stirring her blonde hair furiously. It was freezing cold, even though it was summer, and she could see dark clouds in the distance approaching land.

They'd definitely been hit with shitty weather.

Ashley lowered her golden orbs toward the churning sea at the foot of the cliffs. She felt the salty sea smell fill her completely. She closed her eyes and listened to the crashing of the waves hitting the bare rock, a sound that rumbled until it rattled her soul.

"Watch out for the wind."

She snapped her eyes open and turned in surprise toward the voice. A man with dirty blond hair was looking out at the waves as she did. Gray hair already decorated his sideburns and much of his beard. Ashley was surprised she hadn't heard him, but she noticed his salty scent, just like the sea.

She stared at him silently, doubtful that it was her he was talking to. But then he turned back to her, drilling his gray eyes into the woman.

"Beware of the wind." he repeated. "For it is the breath of the ocean beasts."

Ashley sensed a slightly thicker accent, but understood his Norwegian. Seeing that she was the one he was talking to, she smiled, looking out to sea again.

"At least their breath doesn't smell bad." she replied in the same language.

The man was surprised to hear the young woman's accent.

"Are you a tourist?"

"On a business trip, looking for vestiges of the past."

The man stared at her for a few seconds and then raised his gray eyes to the vast ocean on the horizon. Silence fell between them for a few moments, deafened only by the furious pounding of the sea on the cliffs.

"Many want to know the past, for the humans of old faced monsters that no one now believes in and perhaps are still among us."

Ashley heard the man's raspy voice. Even though it sounded faint in tone, it could be heard above the thundering of the waves and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Should the humans of now... forget the monsters of the past?"

They spoke in the breaks of the waves. After the question, another deafening thump enveloped them and the man answered in that deep, mysterious tone.

"When fishermen prayed to the gods for safe crossings or when we were still discovering these lands, beasts dwelt here. Monsters that in the long northern summers did not appear, but roamed everywhere in the dark winter months, when the cold and the shadows accompanied them. They were predators that only fables described and that were only forgotten after they were annihilated with the fire of the gods and the justice of Odin."

Ashley listened in silence, feeling the cold claws of memories brush her mind brazenly.

"They sound like fearsome beasts," she said in a lost, thoughtful tone.

The man turned to her calmly.

"Tell me, miss, have you ever seen monsters?"

A huge wave hit the bare wall, rumbling in her ears even louder and deafening her deepest thoughts, but bringing out her darkest ones. The young woman's golden eyes lifted to the horizon, lost in memories.

"Maybe."

It wasn't a lie. He might think she was just taking him for an old coot, but the man knew those kinds of looks, those expressions.

Too well.

"And you're not afraid to meet others?"

Ashley took a deep breath.

"I'm more afraid of knowing they're there, but not seeing where they're coming from."

The wind swirled around the two, as if caressing them with its icy hands. The man's voice became deep.

"There are many unknown beasts in the world, there always will be."

He took a deep breath and then turned to the stranger, looking at him with his amber eyes.

"I know, just as there will always be someone looking for them."

The wind howled and shook the trees as their gazes met.

Two strangers in a secluded place, talking about monsters of the past and beasts that could still live among them.

It seemed far-fetched and any normal person listening to them would think so, but... when two people who have seen shadows in the darkness were talking... it didn't take much to understand each other.

Then the man took a step toward her and without a word held out his hand. Ashley watched him for a few seconds and then gave him hers to shake.

The skin was rough and calloused. Weathered by the passage of time and demanding work, but he felt that rough surface on her palms as well. The man nodded and turned his wrist to make her open her hand and place a small object in Ashley's palm. He closed her hand tightly.

"An amulet. May Odin be with you, traveler."

He released her hands and turned to walk silently and leave with the same stealth with which he had appeared. Her amber eyes followed the man's figure until he was lost in the sea mist. She looked down at her hand and opened her fingers to see what the stranger had given her.

It was a leather necklace with a silver medallion on which were strange runes drawn forming a kind of pentagram.

It was a compass of Vegrisir.

Ashley was surprised and raised her eyes again to the direction in which the man had gone.

"Thank you," she whispered into the wind, hoping her voice would resonate even to that peculiar stranger.

Still lost in thought, she watched the medallion shortly before she caught the scent of Leon approaching.

Kennedy reached her and looked in the same direction she had seen the stranger Ashley had shaken hands with go.

"Who was he? Did he want something?" he asked curiously and noticed the leather and metal pendant her companion was holding silently.

Ashley clutched the amulet tightly, feeling a strange energy fill her, as if the words she had shared amidst the roars of the sea had encouraged her.

She took a deep breath and turned to Leon.

"And of those pieces of advice that sometimes you have to listen to."

Leon looked at her in confusion, not understanding the meaning of the words. He went to ask, but Chris's voice calling them made him turn toward the gas station.

"Are they calling us?" Ashley asked, putting the amulet in her pocket.

"Yes, we should go," Leon announced, turning to her again.

They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, melting into each other's eyes as the sea wind gently swayed them.

"Let's go back," Ashley whispered then, taking her eyes off him.

Leon let her pass and walked after her with a strange feeling in his body. A mixture of calmness and... uneasiness.

*

By the time they reached their destination it was already dark.

Or so it was supposed, because it was the first time they had seen the famous midnight sun. While Narsson talked with the locals, the four Americans stood gazing at the sky, absorbed, earning soft laughter from some elderly people sitting on a porch.

Enma came soon after to take them to the small shelter in the village and the agents followed her.

It was a dwelling with an area set up for travelers like them. Narsson and Ashley greeted the kindly elderly couple who had put them up, and the other three smiled with a nod.

"You definitely need to learn a few words," Ashley laughed as she climbed the wooden stairs to the top of the house.

"Do you want me to pop a vein?" Chris grunted, crunching the wood under his weight.

"You're overreacting," Graham reproached him before opening the door to the room.

The room had nothing to do with the hotel. They all slept in the same room and had a single shower to share, plus a stove by the window.

It was much more modest, but it was sturdy. The beds were solid wood and the furniture was hard.

"At least the bed isn't going to split with you, Chris," Leon scoffed, setting the backpack aside.

Redfield rolled his eyes.

"Will you guys stop messing with me? You don't seem to have anything better to do."

Jill patted her partner on the back.

"It's too much fun."

The captain grunted and finally entered the room. There were two bunks and a small bed to one side. Leon and Chris decided to take the lower bunks, while Jill and Ashley took the upper bunks. They decided to let Narsson have the single bed.

After putting on the sheets and washing their faces from the sea salt, they decided to go down to the bar run by the hostel owner himself.

They had a drink and some food at a small round table. A few locals dared to say hello and Ashley was the one who took the initiative to talk.

The locals warned them of the unstable storm that was coming and would probably arrive tomorrow or the day after. They were very friendly to them and especially to Ashley, surprised to hear her speak their language.

They chatted some more and after several drinks from the Norwegians they stumbled off.

The group waved them goodbye and laughed among themselves, feeling the tension they had built up venting a bit.

There were many who paid them no attention, but there were others with curious eyes.

*

The next day they went down to the excavation early. They thought they wouldn't sleep a wink that night because of Chris, but it turned out that he didn't snore unless he got into a bad position, something Leon was grateful for, otherwise he would have tied him up with a gag.

The temperature had dropped a lot and they had to bring out more clothes than expected, but nothing they weren't all used to, although Narsson again complained about not being able to bring the luggage.

This time Leon was the one who drove to the excavation by general vote and Chris spent the ride with his arms crossed and grunting.

Ashley watched the scenery with a blank, thoughtful stare. Her thoughts caused her to reach into her pocket and pull out the metal amulet.

She looked at the shape of the runes and the structure of the engraving for a few seconds and then slipped it over her head and tied it around her neck.

Leon watched the action from the rearview mirror, his blue eyes scanning the small metal object that now decorated her neck. And he saw Ashley push her hair aside and tuck it behind her ear, raising her eyes to the inside rearview mirror. Their gazes met for an instant and Leon quickly averted his.

The GPS told him the end of the trip and Leon parked near the dock. The five of them got out and the sea breeze greeted them again along with the cloudy and increasingly dark sky.

"It looks like it's going to rain," Chris said, watching the storm clouds. They put on their jackets and walked towards the area cordoned off by archaeologists.

Narsson decided to go ahead to talk to the expedition leader while Ashley approached some of the workers. On the other hand, Jill, Chris and Leon scanned their surroundings, alert to any threats.

Some of the DSO department thought that sending so many agents to simply investigate was too much. The BSAA had already sent Chris and Jill and for the President to attach Ashley and Leon to investigate was something that some of the charges were not entirely convinced of, but President Graham was quite clear with his words when he said that he did not plan to mess up again and send just one agent.

Leon knew he was referring to how he was sent alone on a rescue mission that later ended up being something much bigger and even if he had survived, it would have been easier with more qualified agents.

Leon circled the fenced off area and watched the workers hiding in deep holes.

He saw Ashley chatting with some of them and even taking notes in her notebook. Maybe what she experienced in Spain made her take that path, but she was definitely passionate about what she had studied.

It went rather smoothly. Narsson caught up with the project manager and explained that they were looking for new samples of a reptile specimen that had been found. That revelation left Enma somewhat disappointed, as it had nothing to do with the creature they were looking for, but she decided to keep digging.

Meanwhile, Ashley had ended up going into one of the holes they were working on and an elderly man was showing her some shrapnel they had found, mainly seashells. It wasn't particularly new, being an area on the coast, so the man focused more on showing her the different layers that bounded the earth, and in one of them Ashley could see a slight darker tint. He even thought she smelled ash.

"What about this layer?" she asked the man in Norwegian.

"We think it belongs to Viking times. It may be from old sieges when they burned the villages they plundered."

Graham listened carefully and inhaled, wanting to pick up some nuance, but instead sensed something else.

She stood up abruptly looking in one direction. The three agents saw her blonde head peek out of the hole and pin her eyes in the distance. 

Leon turned in that direction and listened. Had he caught a strange scent? The three agents became alert when they saw her emerge from the hole. Ashley waved goodbye to the man and walked away from the excavation, sniffing the air.

But the scent was gone.

The blonde stood looking around as Leon approached her.

"Did you smell something?" he whispered discreetly.

"It seemed familiar, but it disappeared very quickly, so I don't know if it was just a passing scent."

Leon looked at her in confusion.

"Familiar? Of what?"

She sighed.

"I don't know, I think I've smelled it before, but I don't remember where or when."

"I'll tell Chris to keep an eye open." Leon's tone of voice became aggravated and Ashley assisted.

"I'm going to see if I can get anything off the premises."

Leon watched the woman walk toward the dock and after warning Chris and Jill to be on the lookout, he hurried to Graham again. Although he knew she could take care of herself, it was best not to get too far apart.

Ashley walked down to the dock and wandered among the old boats. She stopped in front of two men mending some fishing nets, and they looked at her with some suspicion. Graham approached and could hear one of them muttering disdainfully.

"Excuse me, may I ask you a few questions?"

The instant she began to speak their language, the fishermen's faces changed completely. They remained in their seats and looked at her intently. Leon stood back as he listened to them chat. He could see how well Ashley was doing and... how cheerful she looked.

The more she talked to the fishermen, the looser she felt. The anxieties that had populated her mind on the plane and a few days before were dissipating.

Like that feeling Dylan had put her through... the one that gave her the impression of being desperate for attention and physical contact. Like she was just looking for someone to share a bed with.

It made her feel like a desperate fool.

But there... no one knew who she was, where she came from or what she did, and yet she managed to connect with the locals just by speaking their language. They didn't look at her as a fool or see her as a piece of meat to pick at.

She felt... valued.

At one point in the conversation, she asked them about villages the Vikings used to ravage or even legends of monsters attacking villages. At first, she thought they would laugh at her and her wild questions, but far from it they told her about old tales and local myths.

And finally, she got to hear the word "monsters."

Ashley's eyes fell on one of the fishermen and she asked him about it.

They seemed to be tales for children who didn't want to listen to their parents, but Ashley felt there was something more behind the stories. There was something sinister that made those words almost come alive.

She asked them if those tales were from the area and the other long-bearded fisherman nodded, telling her that that whole area of coast suffered many raids and... misfortunes.

They talked without realizing that their voices sounded lower and lower and slower. Ashley noticed the fishermen's eyes, elusive and darkened by the passing years... or experiences one didn't want to know about. When she was aware of the depth of the men's words, she decided to ask one last question.

"Are any of your places nearby?"

Both fishermen looked at each other for a moment and then felt.

Leon watched Ashley say goodbye to the men and walk back to him. He sensed her amber eyes look to a distant area and knew she was thinking of something.

"Any leads?"

"I have been told that a couple of kilometers from here there are remains of an old fishing village, which was abandoned, they don't know if by a siege by Vikings or... by something else." Her last words were barely a whisper that sent a shiver down Leon's spine. The man looked in the same direction as she did and then put his finger to the small earpiece he, Chris, and Jill were wearing.

"Kennedy here."

A few seconds passed.

"I hear you." Jill's voice answered.

"Ash has spoken to some locals who have mentioned some old ruins. How's Narsson doing?"

"She is still with the manager, Chris has gone with her to look at the geological maps they are showing her. It looks like what they are looking for are old subway caves throughout the area that were buried."

Leon was thoughtful for a few seconds.

"Okay, I've got you on the line. Ashley and I are going to go ahead and take a look at the area. I'll keep you updated."

"Okay."

Kennedy pulled his finger away from his ear and turned to his partner.

"When Chris and Narsson are done, they'll come to our location. Do you have the radio on you?"

Ashley lifted her jacket to show him the device tucked inside a plastic holster. Leon reached up and gently took the backpack from her.

"Come on, I'll take it for a while. I'll follow you."

"Thank you," she said before setting off for the area the fishermen had told her about. Maybe they would get some answers there instead of more questions.

*

The sky turned dark and the storm clouds looked like they were going to engulf everything beneath them. The wind began to blow hard and to shake the treetops furiously.

The two figures walked silently along an old muddy path, now overgrown with brambles.

Leon began to hear thunder in the distance and raised his sapphire eyes to the overcast sky.

He didn't like thunderstorms. He turned to Ashley and the first thunder rumbled like an angry celestial drum. He watched her cringe for an instant and knew she wasn't too amused either.

The two walked in silence, their minds sinking in that sea of memories they shared.

In the storms and... in that night.

"Look."

Leon's voice brought Ashley to her senses and she raised her eyes to the craggy cove between the cliffs. It was farther from the sea than the town they had been in and at first glance it just looked rocky and overgrown with trees and grass.

They walked until they reached the place and as they approached they could see small vestiges. Small piles of stone covered by the moss of yesteryear could have been a stone wall to keep the animals in the corral.

Ashley knelt down to pull up some weeds and look at the bare rock blackened by some past fire. There was nothing left to indicate that there had once been a village there, only traces of stone and a very old nail that Leon had found while digging in one area.

Another clap of thunder echoed in the sky and the first drops began to fall. The two put on their hoods and continued investigating.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Leon asked, running his palm along crags made in the stone and then turning to face her.

He saw her crouched down as the rain poured down on her.

Graham stood up silently and looked around.

"Yes, this is it," she whispered. He stood motionless for a few seconds and then crept through the trees with Leon until they found a stranger abandoned on the ground. It was overgrown with brush, brambles, and moss, but it was strangely round. Leon and Ashley pulled out their knives and without a word began to cut and bring to light what was underneath.

A pit. Or what was left of the silhouette of one.

It seemed that at a more present time, someone had closed the hole in the well with timbers of questionable sturdiness.

"Well, this is something," Ashley said not quite sure what to do next.

Leon picked up a small stone and threw it into the plugged hole. He listened carefully and sighed.

"It doesn't look very hollow, maybe the earth has filled it in by now."

They both sighed and the rain got louder, making Leon's head buzz more.

"Maybe we should go ba-"

Ashley pushed him against a tree and covered his mouth in a second. Leon tensed and looked at her in confusion, but when he met her eyes he knew something wasn't right.

Ashley remained static. She inhaled softly and her pupils constricted. She let go of her partner's mouth and hid behind another tree trunk. Leon saw her tie her backpack tightly and then pull her pistol from her thigh holster.

Leon reflexively did the same and all his muscles tensed violently.

He glanced sideways at the woman and watched her lips move slowly.

"We've been followed."

Leon frowned and made sure the gun was ready.

The thunder began to deafen the place and Leon found it increasingly difficult to hear anything in the pouring rain. But for Ashley it was the ideal situation. The rain accentuated the smells more, expanding them and making them reach her more easily and clearly. She closed her eyes, listening to her racing heartbeat and steadied her breathing.

She sensed the shades of her followers and recognized them.

They had the same scent as the mercenaries who tried to kidnap Narsson.

For a second she thought about how they had found them, but if Wesker was as smart as Chris claimed, then it wouldn't have taken him long to come to that conclusion. Researching Enma's background was enough to find the museum where he displayed his old find. They would probably talk to Narsson's professor as well and he may have stopped by his classmates so the man could tell them where they had gone.

He was definitely a man you didn't want to have as an enemy.

Leon heard some whistling and had to make a great effort to make out the footsteps. He cursed inwardly at the intercession of rain and raised his gun, ready.

Ashley motioned for him to wait. They were still approaching.

"Where the hell did they go?" someone said in the background.

The footsteps were becoming clearer even to Ashley. A violent clap of thunder split the sky and Leon had to quickly cover his ears. He gritted his teeth and his blue eyes locked on Ashley's on the other side. They both looked at each other in silence as their hearts thundered in their ears. They didn't look away from each other as they heard the voices getting closer and closer.

Ashley breathed in softly and sensed three people... no, five. 

It was a small group like them, probably recon. Both Chris and Jill had mentioned to her that Wesker was not a man who was on the front line other than when necessary, so he may not have even gone all the way to the coastal town they were in and stayed in Oslo. Redfield also let it slip that he was no ordinary human, that he was a bioweapon himself, so she assumed his scent would be very different from that of the mercenaries.

He let the air out gently. He didn't want to form mist and give away his position.

"Look for them, they should not be far away." Another man's voice was heard in the undergrowth. "Do you have the thermal scopes?"

Leon and Ashley tensed suddenly and looked at each other in alarm. If they used those sights, they would be hunted down in a second. Graham raised his hand and his heart skipped a beat as he caught a scent approaching Leon. He motioned to his partner as another clap of thunder made Leon curse. The agent stuck to the log and waited.

And waited.

It was as if time stood still as the rain seemed to fall in the background. Leon stopped hearing it for an instant and focused on the footsteps as his heart pounded in his chest with a drum. 

He was close.

 He saw the tip of a rifle peek over the side of the tree trunk. He filled his lungs and held his breath. 

He had only one chance. 

First the gun. 

A hand peeked out. 

An arm... a shoulder... 

The soldier's eyes met the agent's and before he could even blink, Leon grabbed him by the throat. 

He tensed all his muscles and strangled him with all his might while covering his mouth. Ashley watched the man struggle in trying to break free from Leon's deadly grip, but to no avail. She smelled the adrenaline and watched his eyes roll until he stopped moving. 

Ashley felt her heart shrink as she saw the body left dangling in Leon's arms and he didn't blink. His face was now serious and hard as steel. There was no room for doubt or emotions. Only instincts. 

He thought the soldier's threat had passed, but then a beeping sound began. Leon and Ashley both blanched. 

"There!"

Shots whistled and the two ducked behind their trees. Leon looked at the soldier and saw a small bracelet. That made that sound. A bullet hit the trunk at Leon's head level and the man grunted. 

"Fuck," he shot in the soldiers direction. Ashley mimicked him, trying to spot his pursuers in the bush. Kennedy took firm aim and when he heard footsteps, he fired. One man screamed as he was hit in the shoulder and Ashley pushed back another.

Leon put his hand to his ear and pressed the receiver. 

"Chris!" a bullet made him flinch with a jolt. "Jill!" he called into the transmitter. But the sound of a click silenced him. 

Leon turned around. 

Ashley turned around. 

Between them flew a spherical object. A grenade. 

They saw it in the air. The rain stopped. Their hearts thundered in their ears. Their bodies rose up burning. 

Run. RUN. RUN. 

Ashley pushed Leon with her body and they fell into the hole of the well before the explosion. Wood and earth showed and the bomb shattered the rock walls. And they fell.

***

His ears were ringing between the impact of the grenade and the roar of the water. He felt a body clinging to him in the fall. 

"GET AIR!" 

Leon only reacted to Ashley's shout an instant before sinking into the icy water. They held on with all their might as the current swept them through those underwater tunnels. They shielded each other's heads and held their breath and the violent shaking. They felt the agony and the fear of not knowing if there was an end. If they would make it out. When the current spat them upwards. They stuck their heads out in desperation and breathed in pain. They gasped and swam until they touched the rough crevice. They groaned in pain and grunted as they climbed onto land, feeling their whole bodies scream. They had suffered bumps and abrasions. Leon looked at his legs with cuts, torn cloth and blood slowly oozing out. They were minor injuries, so he didn't take much notice of them. He turned quickly to Ashley with his heart in his fist and barely breathing. 

"Ash-" he coughed the seawater from his throat and watched her spit out the saltpeter. He saw some cuts on her hands and noticed her arms and back, but, like Leon's, they were only superficial.

He crawled over to her and pushed her hair away from her face as her gasps echoed in the cavern. 

"Are you... okay?" he asked breathlessly. She raised her eyes and clung to his arm. 

"Yes,... And... you?"

Leon looked around and took a shaky breath. 

"I'm fine." It took a few more seconds for their breathing to calm down. They stood up in pain and looked at the place where the torrent of water had spat them out. 

"Where are we?" Leon said, wringing the water out of his jacket and pulling his hair back. 

"It's salt water, so we still have to be on shore,” she replied, opening a backpack to make sure she hadn't lost anything. She was thankful she had packed samplers of plastic bags. After inspecting it she stood up and began to feel cold. 

"We should find a way out before we get hypothermia," Leon said rubbing his hands together and looking at Ashley. She inhaled deeply and arched her eyebrows.

 "I smell ... wood?"

Leon looked surprised. 

"Wood? Which way?"

She sniffed and pointed to a narrow gap between the walls. 

"That way." Ashley's tone of voice was a little louder and Leon grunted, covering his ears. 

"Speak softer, please," he whispered. His eardrums were still ringing from the explosion and the salt water that had gotten into his ears didn't seem to be coming out. It was a very unpleasant sensation that was just giving him a headache. 

"Sorry," she apologized in a whisper and then took his hand and led him. "come."

Leon let himself go. He felt terribly dizzy, as if he had been hit several times with the palms in his ears. He heard Ashley's footsteps mixed with the swaying of the water inside his ear canal. He grunted in frustration and watched Ashley squeeze into a small hole. He slid sideways and waited for her to reach the other side and then followed her to him. 

"Fuck... I barely... pass..." he gasped holding on to the stone so he could move forward. 

"You need to do less pull-ups, your pecs are too big," she scoffed in a soft voice wanting to take the heat off the situation and was happy when she heard Leon laugh under his breath. "My pecs are perfect." 

"Then tuck in your belly." 

"Idiot."

This time she was the one laughing. Kennedy finally managed to get out, but saw Ashley slip as she gave him her hand to pull him up. He grabbed her like lightning and they both fell down the slippery rock. It was more of a startle than anything else. They made it to the end unharmed in the blink of an eye. They got up carefully so as not to slip again and stood in pity. 

"Wow,” Leon whispered, shining his flashlight on the old and worn wooden structures. A graveyard of Nordic ships.

The hulls were mangled and almost rotten to the core, but the isolation of the cave had ensured that they had been preserved until now. Leon and Ashley approached carefully and Graham originated the wood full of algae and verdigris. 

"How long has this been here?" Leon lifted the flashlight to the masthead on the bow and then slid it down to the wreckage of other vessels. "They look like shipwrecks." 

"Yes, maybe the ocean currents dragged them through the caves." Ashley took out the knife to scrape the surface of the wood and then opened the backpack. 

"I'm going to take samples... shit."

Leon turned to her. 

"What's the matter?" 

The plastic canisters had broken from the impact they'd taken underwater. Ashley rummaged through the bottom, pulling out the unusable and was glad she'd packed bags of blood to use as possible liquids, something she didn't take to the expedition in Spain. 

"I don't have many containers, most have broken, but I think I can manage."

With great care and patience, she chipped the slippery wooden surface and inserted the remains through the tube of the bag. Leon watched her for a few seconds and then walked around the other side. The echo of the water between the tunnels echoed in his ears like waterfalls, making it difficult for him to even hear Ashley. He kept an eye out for an unlit area and an old plank that sagged under his weight. And he heard a creaking sound. Leon froze and all his muscles tensed. He didn't move, wondering what that had been.

"Ash?" he called to his companion with some urgency. "I think I stepped on something... that's not wood.

Ashley turned and finished putting the bag away quickly. She ran to him with flashlight in hand and shone her light at his feet. She knelt down as she saw that some of it was wood, but underneath was something else. Graham lifted the splinters with the knife and whispered.

“Lift the foot slowly.”

He obeyed gently and lifted the drop of rotten wood, letting Ashley see what was underneath. When she saw it, the flashlight almost fell off, and she gasped for air for a second.

Bones.

He had stepped on a skull. But her horror didn't end there.

When Ashley pushed aside a large chunk of wood, the two of them suddenly moved away.

A plaga.

They both saw that the creature was pierced in half and realized what that meant.

“That... is much bigger than the ones in... Spain,” Leon whispered, circling the body. “Haven't you smelled it?”

She shook her head. 

“Everything smells like salt and seaweed, it is very difficult to perceive such old and small smells.” She paused, following Leon, who found the other half of the plaga. “Besides, this... looks like the ones from the grotto I found in Spain.”

“The ones that were dismembered?”

Ashley nodded.

 “Those were far below even the catacombs we were in.”

Kennedy was silent for a few seconds. 

“So they're older than the ones Ramon had inside.”

They both internalized what that meant: the creatures had been around for a very, very long time.

Finally, Ashley reacted and pulled out the knife to extract samples of the plaga.

The water hadn't ruined the analog camera, so she was able to take some pictures.

“Ash, here's more!”

Leon had found an area overlooking the water where there were more bodies or remains of what had once been humans. From the looks of it, they had fought off the parasites, as they were all impaled, burned, or dismembered. It looked like the reason for the shipwreck was the plagas and the ship was at the mercy of the ocean just like the bodies, ending up being washed up there.

“Here, go take pictures of all this. I'm going to finish taking samples from inside the ship,” Ashley said, handing him the camera.

“Be careful.”

She smiled at him and walked to get between the skeletons of the old ships while Leon put his photography skills into practice.

Inside the ship, the smell was terrible. Ashley had to hold her breath every time she scratched the decaying surface filled with algae and some other mollusks.

The place felt... forgotten. As if time had disappeared and everything the sea had washed up there had become a mere eternal mausoleum. The air was heavy, and the cold went through the bones, making both Leon and Ashley shiver.

“When we get out, I call for the shower first,” Ashley said, grunting in disgust as a seaweed fell on her head.

She heard a soft chuckle in the background. “We'll draw lots when Chris and Jill find us.”

Ashley pulled out another baggie and saw that she only had one more left. She couldn't take too many samples.

“Jill?” she then heard Leon call out to the ex-cop. “Jill, do you read me?”

Leon could only hear choppy sounds and noise. He grunted, trying to focus all his attention on getting a response. They had to be looking for them; the explosion would have alarmed them. Leon and Ashley had locators, so at least they could track them.

He focused again on trying to hear his companions over the earpiece.

And a board hit his head.

Leon fell face first into the puddle of water he had been photographing. He jerked his head out with a grunt, but he was grabbed by the throat and plunged back into the water.

Who the hell was that? He hadn't heard him. He had been so focused on catching something from his companions that he had let his guard down.

He struggled with his attacker and felt his lungs burning from not being able to catch his breath. He managed to land a kick to his attacker's head, and he fell backwards. He came out of the water gasping and saw one of the soldiers. He must have pulled out a knife, and he saw Ashley emerge from between the boats. The man lunged at the officer with the gun, and Leon raised the gun, pointing it at his head.

But the man was quicker. “Knives are better for close combat, rookie.”

“FU-”

Leon dodged the fatal stab, but the blade sank into the side of his waist. Leon roared and grabbed the man by the wrist, striking him in the head. The soldier threw his body over him, and they both fell into puddles on the stone. Leon screamed as the man pulled the knife from his flesh and stopped him as he went to stab again.

Ashley jumped on the soldier's back, deflecting the knife and keeping it from plunging into Leon's chest. He hit her in the temple with his elbow, but she didn't let go.

She only saw red and smelled blood.

They wouldn't hurt him. Not anymore. She wanted to protect him. Save him.

Leon punched the soldier in the stomach, making him grunt. The agent threw him into the air with a kick, and Ashley didn't hesitate. She charged at him, and the soldier hit her hard, but she managed to cover herself and answer him with a hook that sent him reeling.

“Don't hesitate. Don't think. Act.”

She couldn't see. She was blinded by adrenaline and fury...along with terror. Her body moved on impulse, drawing the knife.

She dodged a kick and plunged the blade into the soldier's thigh. He screamed, but before he could react, she drove the knife into his neck with the violence of a hammer.

The man convulsed for a second before going still and falling dead to the ground.

Ashley gasped uncontrollably. The blood was warm, and the smell was suffocating.

The stench of blood... rancid and... hot.

“LEON!”

She couldn't stop. There was no time to think about what she had just done.

Not now.

Leon's grunts tore at her as she dropped to her knees beside him.

There was so much blood. Too much.

“God, God, God...” Ashley pulled off her jacket and pressed it hard against the wound, wrenching a scream from Leon. “Put it there, Leon, please!”

He ran for his backpack as he heard the man's pained moans.

This time, he was the one bleeding out. Not her.

Quickly.

She went back to him and pulled out some small towels she had stuffed in the backpack. She pulled out bandages and a first aid bag she always carried with her.

Leon was sweating and shaking. His face was paling by the second.

“Hold on,” she sobbed, lifting his shirt to see the wound. It was on the side of his waist. She didn't know if it had hit any organs—maybe not, as it was too far on the outside—but he was bleeding a lot.

She quickly took out the disinfectant and poured it all over the wound.

“FUCK!!!” he roared in pain, biting his other hand to hold back his moans and grunts of agony.

Ashley's eyes watered and clouded over. She had to hurry. Her hands couldn't shake now. “Please, not now.”

“Don't fail me now,” she whispered as she pulled the suture needle out of the little metal box.

Leon was running out of strength, and the color was leaving his skin too quickly. Ashley hurried to sew with her heart in her throat and tears in her eyes.

“No...no...please...hold on....”

She closed the wound, but the scarlet puddle that had formed was worrisome.

“Leon?”

She got no answer.

“Leon? LEON!”

She felt for a pulse and held back a scream as she felt how weak it was.

Blood. He needed blood.

She thought quickly. She was a universal blood donor. Yes, yes, she could give it, yes, come on.

Almost hyperventilating, she pulled the last remaining bag out of the backpack along with needles. God, she never thought she'd need these, she'd only brought them for fluids, and now she was going to do a homemade blood transfusion.

Either that or Leon would die.

She strapped the belt to her bicep and dug the needle into her vein. As the bag began to fill, she cut the sleeve of Leon's T-shirt and pushed the thin metal into his pale veins. She secured the IV and lifted the bag, then opened the path.

The time it took for the red liquid to flow down the tube into Leon was agonizing.

This was madness. She didn't even know if it would work.

She could only wait.

And with every passing second, she felt like a part of her was dying.

She didn't know how much time passed or how much blood would have entered Leon's body. She was still pressing on the wound with trembling hands when she heard a grunt of pain.

She turned breathlessly to him and sobbed with joy when she saw those eyelids part.

“ God... Leon... Can you hear me?” She whispered brushing sweaty locks away from his face.

 He took a second to focus his eyes and then look at the woman.

“ Ash... Are you okay?”

 Ashley laughed through her tears.

“ That's what I should be asking you... you idiot.” She stroked his cheek and Leon gave her a faint smile.

I need a few more minutes to fully regain consciousness and see Ashley's blood rushing into him.

“Are you... a walking hospital... or what?” he whispered weakened, but feeling the energy return to him. He hissed when Ashley moved the hand he kept pressing on the wound to see if it was still bleeding.

The towel was clean.

“ Being it was good for me.” And she took his pulse again, calmer now, and wiped away the sweat. - How are you feeling?

“ Wonderful.” he sighed with a soft laugh that made her grunt. “ Have I earned the first turn in the shower?”

Anyone would think this situation was absurd. That he wasn't behaving like a man who had been on the verge of bleeding to death. But Ashley knew he was doing it as much for her as for him.

“ Maybe I'm going to have to help you take a shower.” she joked now with dried tears.

 Leon smirked.

“ That doesn't sound like a bad plan.”

Ashley laughed softly and wiped her nose with her free hand smearing it with Leon's blood. The smell of iron and became so intense that it even eclipsed the scent of the salt surrounding them. But right now he didn't care if he couldn't smell other smells, now he just wanted to see Leon recover.

But the adrenaline was starting to drain out of her and her thoughts began to take hold.

She had killed a person.

She still felt the warm sensation of blood on her hands. Her body had acted alone and before she knew it there was a man lying on the ground with her knife through his throat.

Her body began to tremble and her breathing to shake.

But it had been so fast... everything had turned red when she saw Leon full of blood.

As if it wasn't her.

She didn't feel the hand that touched her wrist and the voice that called out to her. Only a sharp pinch made her react.

“ Ash.” she turned to Leon with dilated pupils. “Breathe.”

It took her a second to process that word, but she saw Leon do it and unconsciously imitated him.

“ That's it. - he whispered, breathing in and out with her.”

He may have been through a lot of things, but killing a person wasn't one of them.

And Leon knew how hard it was. He knew all too well.

They breathed together and even Leon stopped feeling dizzy. It seemed Ashley had given him enough blood.

“ I'm doing much better. The wound seems to have clotted, doesn't it?”

Ashley gently lifted the cloth, even she looked surprised.

“ It's very fresh, if you move too much it will open up, but it's not bleeding, did... my blood help?”

Leon sighed heavily.

“ Whatever it was, it is welcome.”

Ashley laughed softly.

“ You're not dizzy anymore?”

“ No, it was just in time, thank you.”

She smiled and let the air and heaviness out of her body, now fully stained with Leon's blood.

“ Be still for a while.”

“ Yes, ma'am.”

“ I'm going to take the-”

It was like nightmares in slow motion.

That strange feeling of stillness that he saw everything in great detail, but at the same time he was unable to react.

And what he saw was the nightmare coming back to him.

He saw a deformed face. Teeth closing around Ashley's shoulder.

And a scream breaking his ears again.

The pain of his wound disappeared and his instincts made him grab the hilt of the knife still plunged into that man who was no longer human.

But a monster.

He saw the teeth sink into her flesh and all his muscles pulled at the fist, severing the head all at once as it fell rolling to the ground.

Ashley brought her hands to the hollow air of her neck and shoulder. She felt the blood between her fingers, but it barely came out.

What it was doing was burning.

She looked at Leon and then at the man she thought she had killed. She saw her partner's eyes widen like saucers and terror fill his expression.

“ No... no, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

He looked at her in despair and when he saw those black veins spread from the bite, he felt like he was going back to that night.

To the same place. To the same nightmare.

“Leon what's hap-”

Ashley began to cough and her throat tightened. Her eyes contracted and her body began to shake and sweat. Leon grabbed her tightly.

This couldn't be happening.

Ashley's breathing became somewhere between ragged and anguished.

This had to be a nightmare. No...not again...not her.

She saw his amber eyes bloodshot and as she screamed at him. Leon didn't process her words, it took him a while to understand that she was asking him to release the IV.

What IV? Then he realized they were still sharing blood. Leon's thoughts stopped working as he watched those black veins spread across Ashley's skin. He began to feel hot. An unpleasant tingling running up and down his body.

He called out to her until his voice rasped from the effort as he watched her tremble more and more and the burn by the second. He was unable to react, but a part of him knew what was happening, what was happening to them. And he remembered the nightmare.

It was another bad dream. He just had to wake up.

He only had to wake up.

[aigeneratedportraitofdoriangray]

well, there goes, damn near everything else i owned; me and a coupe other strays out here were using a vacant old home as, mostly a stash space for the bulk of our belongings (because, we should not be confined to carrying our ever fiber of being in one backpack nor burdened with the weight of everything we owned if we do not want to limit ourselves to the former), and for getting out of the worst of the weather. it was very much a "worst kept secret" of the neighborhood kinda thing, but no one -openly- seemed to mind, and in fact were either quite kind to us or happy to ignore us as we made no trouble, one household on the other side of the spot even ran us a cord to use electricity occasionally and gave us a old microwave and toaster, among a few other trinkets.

but it seems someone did not like us, and either took it upon themselves to remove all of our stuff, or got the cops to to it for them. but near everything we had was taken, not even thrown in any nearby trash for any hope of retrieval. luckily we all word world weary enough to put some extra care into hiding a few of our most important things but all of our basics are gone.

lost mostly, was clothing, anything we did not hide well enough or were currently carrying with us is gone. this means: all our pants, shirts, etc, and the basics like our underwear and socks are gone. that last, is of course to anyone who knows, a major loss. being able to change socks regularly is very important for us who live a lot of our time on our moving feet, even more-so when regular full bathing is not guaranteed. we also all lost a a lot of our hygienically items, i always carrying the oral care essentials, some soap, and deodorant so i at least have those but the others are not quite as lucky. i know where i can get a lot of what they lost for free fairly easily, if not the best quality, but some things like shaving needs and basic skincare items are not as easy to come by.

a few people in the neighborhood have talked about trying to get some items together for us, but, if anyone else can help out, i am going to pool anything i can gather over the next few days or the week, from donations or plasma if i can donate or hopefully the little odd job or two i have been discussing with some friends, together to help replace stuff for all of us.

if you can add anything in CASHAPP: $cryptiditpyrc VENMO : @cryptidcoin (i regained access but this is still not the ___________________________best option as i have to transfer it to a card ___________________________prone to monthly fees, forgotten ___________________________subscriptions being taken out, etc)

[ivoryminitower]

Echoes of Home: 9 - Steve ("why did we come here?")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

Original Me is working these days, so he could spare a bit of money for us, as long as we didn't go nuts.  I'm going to define "going nuts" as more than a hundred a week and stay under that until we get stable.  Doing what, I don't know.  But gathering is looking good, so as long as we can sell things for cash we might be okay.

We found copper near town.  It's funny that there were so many TV shows that had people stealing wire and pipes to sell because copper was so expensive, but I checked the commodity prices for it and it's only about five dollars a pound.  So if anyone really is doing that, all they're getting is maybe beer money.  Not enough to live on, unless we have enough copper that people will wonder where we got it.  And why we didn't have a truck to haul it around in.

I had to explain to Tsu'na that people here don't have inventory space like we do.  For the first time, as we sat in the diner, she looked around and noticed the bags and backpacks and briefcases and packages people carried.  "So people are limited by what they can carry?"

"Or put in a vehicle, yeah." I took out ten gil and stacked the coins on the table.  "If they had gil it would take up space and have weight.  A hundred gil would be ten stacks like this.  A thousand would be ten times that and probably fill the table.  A million would be a thousand tabletops full and…"  My eyes ran over the room. "...maybe fill the restaurant."

"And we each have millions."

"Yeah.  A good part of why this world switched to paper money a few hundred years ago." I showed her a dollar bill.

She looked it over, rubbing it between her fingers. "It seems flimsy."

"Kinda, yeah.  It tears, it burns, it stains, but it's lighter than metal.  Though a million of those can get bulky and heavy too.  Which is why a lot of people today don't even carry cash.  They use these instead."  I handed over "my" debit card.  "You get this from a bank.  When you go to buy something, you give that to the merchant, he sticks it in a machine, the machine tells the bank you want them to give the merchant money.  You don't have to have the money on you."

"But you have been using the paper money."

"Yeah, because I don't have my own debit card.  This is a copy of Original Me's, so if I use it I'm spending his money.  He says it's okay, but we can't do that forever."

"So you will get your own card?"

"That takes a bank account.  And that takes ID.  And ID takes identity, which we really don't have.  We can't prove we're in the country legally, so we can't just walk up to a government office and get ID without worrying about arrest and deportation.  Um...kicking us out of the country."

"To where?"

"They don't care.  Probably Mexico.  Where we still won't have ID."

"And what will we do about this?"

"I'm flattered by your faith in me, my love."

"That does not answer my question."

"Yeah...There's people who sell fake ID.  I don't know how to find them.  It'll probably take a lot of money...more than Original Me's got lying around."

"And they do not take gil."

"No.  I mean, if I knew what gil was made of, we could maybe melt it down and pass it off as gold or something.  Then we could buy most anything."

She picked up a gil coin and turned it in her fingers. "I never thought about what they were made of."

"Probably something more valuable than copper.  Anyway, the machines keep records of who does what where, so that's another reason to not use them if we don't have to.  Cuz sooner or later people will wonder who we are and where we're from and why we haven't paid taxes ever."

"Is all this why we are hiding?  We are hiding, are we not?"

"Part of it.  And like I said before, we don't want to be around confused and upset humans.  If we told them we were from another world, it's possible people would think us crazy enough to lock us up in a hospital, where they'd try to convince us we were crazy to think that way.  Or it's possible people would believe us enough to lock us up in a laboratory, where they'd try to study us to figure out what we were.  Or they'd get scared and try to hurt us or kill us or something, because there's people who really don't like different."

She stared at me a long time before asking, "Why did we come here, Husband?"

"Wasn't my idea.  I thought the Circle would take us some place outside Eorzea.  I didn't know where."

She sighed and reached over to lay her hand on mine. "What was it you once said?  'I can think of worse ways to spend eternity'?"

"Remembered that, did you?"

"Of course."

"Yeah, well.  Let's worry about one day at a time."

[suckitsurveys]

Do you prefer bar or liquid soap? I like the foaming soaps best.

What’s the speed limit on your street? I’m not sure, there aren’t signs posted and I don’t know the laws regarding side streets like that. I THINK the limit is 30mph unless otherwise posted, but I can’t find something that confirms that for small side streets.

When was the last time you wore your favourite article of clothing? I am wearing one of them right now. It’s a black Fleetwood Mac hoodie with the Rumors album cover on it.

Do any of your family members have an upcoming birthday? The next one is my sister’s in July.

On a scale of 1-5, 5 being the best, rate your last kiss. Always a 5 :) .

What is your favourite flavour of Jolly Ranchers? Watermelon.

Where was your Facebook profile picture taken? Starved Rock Stater Park.

Do your parents smoke? My mother did.

Would you rather bake cookies or a potato? Definitely depends on my mood.

Who was the last person to stay the night at your house? My niece.

Do you live close to a park? Yes, there’s one right around the corner.

Is your favourite animal endangered? One of them is.

Have you eaten pizza in the last week? I have. There was pizza for lunch/dinner yesterday at the event I worked.

Who was the last person you added to your contacts list? One of the people I worked with at the event I just mentioned.

How long does it take you to shower? like 10-20 minutes depending.

Do you prefer a brand of bottled water over others, or is it all the same? I don’t really care, but I tend to favor Smart Water thanks to a certain spokesperson lol.

Have you used Wikipedia today? I tried to find out one of the new SNL cast members’ birthday and the first search result was a snippet from their Wiki page, if that counts.

Are you better at writing fiction or non-fiction? Neither.

Do you know anyone who has moved to a different state? Yes, a handful of people I went to high school with have moved to different states, as well as a couple cousins.

How many pens can you see from where you’re sitting? A bunch. I have a pen/pencil cup on my desk that I like to keep well stocked lol.

Have you ever dated someone one grade/year above or below you? I never really dated anyone in school.

What language do you think you’d be good at? I don’t know. What language do you think you’d fail at? I don’t know.

Do you still have a landline phone at your house? Nope.

What is your current desktop background? Here at work it’s a fan art drawing of the mountains of “Hollywoo” from BoJack, including the sign and.BoJack’s house.

How big is the television you last watched? It’s 55in.

Have you ever been stung by a bee or a wasp? Nah.

How many schools have you been to in your lifetime? Preschool, K-8th, high school. two colleges.

What is the middle name of the last person you texted? Allen.

Are you of legal age in your country? Yes.

Why did you last visit a doctor? New glasses.

Would you prefer an ice cream cake or a regular cake? Both are good.

How old is your best friend? 29, 34, 35, 39.

What is/was your high school’s mascot? Wildcats.

Do you carry pain relievers with you at all times? No. But I have a “travel” backpack that has essentials in it that I take if I am going to be gone somewhere all day, and that includes pain relievers.

Where is your mother right now? Dead.

What was the last thing to make you smile? Something my coworkers were talking about.

Are you currently saving up for anything? A new mattress. And spending money for when Ellen and Sarah are here.

What’s the view like from your bedroom window? We are in the basement and our bedroom window is level with the driveway.

Generally speaking, do you prefer sweet or savoury? They have different connotations for me. Like “savory” is a whole meal and “sweet” is just a dessert or treat, so they are different and I can’t really choose one over the other?

What would you do if you got home and you saw your house had been destroyed? Blah.

When did you last go outside, and what for? Earlier this morning when I came to work.

Who is your favourite Sesame Street character? Cookie Monster. Though the recent Elmo memes made me a fan.

How often do you check your emails? My job consists of me answering emails all day. And I only check my personal email if I am expecting something lol.

Do you have any plans for this Thanksgiving? Probably eat?

What colour is your backpack? I have a mini pink iridescent one I use daily.

Would you slap the last person you talked to for twenty dollars? No.

What search engine do you usually use? Google.

How much did the shirt you’re wearing cost? I’m not sure, I bought it a long time ago.

Patrick Stump or Pete Wentz? I’m good.

Do you know anyone who gives way too many hugs? A little bit, yeah.

What time do you usually wake up on Sundays? Depends.

Have you whispered today? Probably. I’m always whispering shit to myself lol.

What grade did you get on the last test you took? I have no idea.

[ieatsurveys]

Do you prefer bar or liquid soap? Liquid. Bar's freak me out due to everyone touching it. But, I do live by myself, so it wouldn't matter.

What's the speed limit on your street? I want to say 45.

When was the last time you wore your favourite article of clothing? Erm, I can't even remember what I wore yesterday.

Do any of your family members have an upcoming birthday?  Me. 

On a scale of 1-5, 5 being the best, rate your last kiss. 12/10. He was a good kisser. *shrugs*

What is your favourite flavour of Jolly Ranchers? I don't eat Jolly Ranchers because they get stuck in my teeth.

Where was your Facebook profile picture taken? At a Starbucks bathroom. WHAT OF IT?

Do your parents smoke? No.

Would you rather bake cookies or a potato? The comparison to those two items aren't even close.

Who was the last person to stay the night at your house? Jeff.

Do you live close to a park? Yes.

Is your favourite animal endangered? No.

Have you eaten pizza in the last week? Yes.

Who was the last person you added to your contacts list? I don't remember.

How long does it take you to shower? 15 minutes.

Do you prefer a brand of bottled water over others, or is it all the same? Yes.

Have you used Wikipedia today? I haven't.

Are you better at writing fiction or non-fiction? Fiction.

Do you know anyone who has moved to a different state? Yes :(

How many pens can you see from where you’re sitting? I can't.

Have you ever dated someone one grade/year above or below you? I mean, in high school, yeah.

What language do you think you’d be good at? I'm already good at sign language.

What language do you think you’d fail at? Meh. Mandarin.

Do you still have a landline phone at your house? No.

What is your current desktop background? Outer space.

How big is the television you last watched? 55 inch?

Have you ever been stung by a bee or a wasp? Yes.

How many schools have you been to in your lifetime? A few.

What is the middle name of the last person you texted? I don't know his middle name.

Are you of legal age in your country? Sure am.

Why did you last visit a doctor? Follow up.

Would you prefer an ice cream cake or a regular cake? Ice cream. I don't like cake.

How old is your best friend? My age. 33. We'll both be 34 in April. Oof.

What is/was your high school’s mascot? Hawks.

Do you carry pain relievers with you at all times? Nah. Where is your mother right now? Home.

What was the last thing to make you smile? Don't know.

Are you currently saving up for anything? Yes.

What’s the view like from your bedroom window? Bushes. Generally speaking, do you prefer sweet or savoury? Savory. What would you do if you got home and you saw your house had been destroyed? How do you think I would react? When did you last go outside, and what for? To get out of the car.

Who is your favourite Sesame Street character? Big Bird.

How often do you check your emails? Often. Delete? Now that's a whole different story.

Do you have any plans for this Thanksgiving? To eat.

What colour is your backpack? Blue.

Would you slap the last person you talked to for twenty dollars? Yes.

What search engine do you usually use? Google.

How much did the shirt you’re wearing cost? It was free.

Patrick Stump or Pete Wentz? I'm good.

Do you know anyone who gives way too many hugs? No.

What time do you usually wake up on Sundays? Early.

Have you whispered today? No.

What grade did you get on the last test you took? I don't know.

[shuadotcom]

Crush on You | HJS

❄ Summary: Joshua hates the idea of you being all alone for winter break so he wants to surprise you.

❄ Pairing: Joshua x GN!Reader

❄ Genres & AUs: Fluff, friends to lovers au, college au

❄ Rating: PG

❄ Warnings: None just Joshua being the sweetest

❄ Words: 3.3k

❄ Note: First fic of 2023! Big thank you to @toikiii​ for reading this over for me! This is an old fic of mine that I’ve been meaning to get around to rewriting when I was feeling especially soft. My brain simply would not rest and I literally couldn’t work on any other wip until I got some of these Joshua feelings out. The swiftness at which he shot up my bias list since last year is unfair because I didn’t ask to be this down bad for him, yet here I am.

I told myself I’d start working on my Seventeen wips in the new year and here we are - soft hours for Joshua are open forever!

Being broke during winter break sucks. Being broke during winter break and alone sucks even more. Being broke during winter break and being alone and being in a whole different country sucks the most.

You plan on buying your plane ticket to go home for the break early on. You tell yourself over and over again that you’re going to get it months ahead of time. Of course what you plan and what actually happens are two different things.

September is when you’re going to get the round-trip ticket. If you get it out of the way three months in advance, you won’t have to worry about doing anything last minute or having to pay more as the day grows closer. You have the money in your account and as soon as you finish your homework for the week, you’ll sit down, get the ticket, and plan the trip.

Unfortunately, you make the fatal mistake of allowing all of your friends to squeeze into your dorm room to celebrate the coming weekend. Thanks to the half-full bottle of soju that spilled all over your laptop, you learn two things that day; one is to never let a group of college boys drink excessive amounts of alcohol in your dorm room. The second thing is to never let a drunk Kwon Soonyoung anywhere near your expensive things ever again. Ever.

October rolls around and after buying a new computer and making sure Soonyoung knows that he’s indebted to you for basically the rest of his life, you’re back to saving up again. That’s short-lived though when you leave your backpack, which just so happens to have most of your textbooks in it, on the train.

This time you mostly blame Seungkwan. There’s a new restaurant opening in Gangnam that he really wants to try and everyone else is either busy or doesn’t want to go. He has to bribe you with a free meal, but you ultimately agree.

The problem is, he gets so caught up in trying things and gushing over the food that you miss your train back to campus, meaning you’ll likely be late for curfew. He pays the bill and the two of you sprint to the train to catch the next one. Once you reach your stop, you have to push through the abnormally crowded train passengers to get out, and in the process, your backpack is forgotten on the seat you and Seungkwan shared and you don’t realize that your bag isn’t slung over either of your shoulders until the train is long gone. While, yes you blame the incident on your forgetfulness, Seungkwan had told you that he'd carry your backpack and then didn’t so it’s still partially his fault.

November is your fault, which you can admit. Dragging along as many of your thirteen closest friends as will go with you to a SHINee pop-up shop in Busan means more planning and money than you account for. At the time all you have on your mind is getting your hands on as many limited edition fan items as possible, but once you’re faced with the double-digit number in your bank account, irresponsibility and guilt settle heavily on your shoulders.

December brings on tests and projects almost nonstop which barely leaves enough time for you to sleep and eat, so your mind is on school and school alone. You’ve seen the holiday decorations and heard plenty of people talking about the upcoming break, but your homework takes precedence over anything else.

After months of excuse after excuse, and you simply forgetting, here you are now; alone while all of your friends have already gone home for break, most of them only having to hop on a train to get there. Barely anyone is on campus at all and the few students that did stay back are unfamiliar to you so you choose the solitude of your own room for the next week.

Your family doesn’t have the funds to get you a ticket, so your financial irresponsibility is your problem and yours alone. Of course, your friends offer to pay for your ticket home, which when you decline, their next suggestion is to let you go home with one of them, but you turn them all down on that offer too. You want them to enjoy their time with their families and not have to worry about their foreign friend tagging awkwardly along.

You regret your decision just a little bit as you trek through the freshly fallen snow to the bus stop. The fact that the school's cafeteria would be closed with most of the staff gone, hadn't occurred to you either, which is why you found yourself in the small tteokbokki place about fifteen minutes away from school on New Year’s eve.

You’re in the middle of grumpily stuffing your face full of rice cakes when your phone rings on the table. After glancing at the contact name and photo, you quickly swallow the food in your mouth before swiping your finger across the screen to answer the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Is that any way to greet your lovely friend?” A chuckle comes through the line making you scoff while simultaneously trying to ignore your rapid heartbeat.

“You're Joshua, you don't count.”

“Are you saying if I was Jihoon or Jeonghan you would've answered nicer?!” He gasps in faux offense.

“I don't know, maybe. Neither of them has hit me in the face with a door you know,” you taunt, trying not to laugh. You’ll never let him live down the fact that your first time meeting was due to him accidentally smacking you in the face with the door to your shared math class.

“How long are you gonna keep bringing that up?! I said I was sorry!” Joshua lets out a deep sigh and you can practically hear him sulking over the phone. “Anyway, where are you?”

“Tteokbokki,” you simply answer, not needing to explain where since he’ll know “Why?”

“Go back to your room.”

“What?”

“I sent you something and you have to hurry back, like, now.”

“Bu-”

“I'm serious you have to go now. I’ll time you and if you aren't there in less than twenty minutes, I'm sending it back.”

“You can’t just unsend a mailed gift!”

The sound of the dial tone is his reply.

You usually aren’t one to listen to people demanding you to do things. You can admit to being pretty stubborn and petty at times and you can proudly say no if you didn't want to do something.

Well, unless the one telling you what to do was Joshua Hong.

You did a flawless job (in your opinion) of hiding the fact that you’ve, more or less, fallen for one of your best friends. All of your male friends were handsome and fun to be around, but there is something about Joshua that you can’t put your finger on, but it makes you feel so many things for him. His sweet smiles always make your heart practically beat out of your chest. His laughter makes you weak in the knees; the sound is like your favorite song. Anytime you sit close to him, you find yourself daydreaming of being more than friends, the urge to hold his hand always at the forefront of your mind.

Obviously, you haven’t told a single soul about this and you plan to keep it that way. The last thing you need is to disrupt the dynamic of your newfound family with a silly little crush, but you still can’t help the giddy feeling you get around him or the way that you tend to do nearly anything he asks of you.

Today is no expectation as you promptly stand up, throw away your trash, and beeline out of the restaurant and to the bus stop to go back to campus.

With your boots caked in snow, palms sweaty, and breathing labored from fast-walking to get here, you’re back at your building and rushing into your room. Upon stepping inside, you instantly note that it looks different than the way you left it.

Your walls, which are usually covered in posters, now have sparkly, silver stars hanging haphazardly around the room. There’s a string of blinking fairy lights hung up on the ceiling, a few feet above your head and there’s a candle burning that smells strongly of sugar cookies. Sitting on your desk is a small artificial Christmas tree complete with rainbow-blinking lights and a little gold star on the top. Your eyes only scan these things briefly before they land on the man sitting cross-legged in the middle of your bed. His phone is next to him, playing a soft R&B song that you can’t name, but it sounds nice. He’s wearing a red and white sweater and a glittery ‘Happy New Year’ headband. Joshua’s wide, bright smile completes the ensemble.

“Surprise!” Joshua bounces off your bed and throws his arms in the air.

You’re still standing in the doorway, unsure of what to even say. A jumble of things runs through your mind, but the only thing you manage to get out is, “How'd you even get those lights on the ceiling? You’re not that tall.”

Joshua throws his head back and laughs in response. “I show up here when I'm supposed to be at home and turn your room into what looks like the holidays threw up in it, and that's what you say to me?”

As if a switch is flipped, you snap out of your daze and kick your soggy shoes off, tossing your coat on the back of your desk chair and plopping down on the edge of your bed.

“Okay then, why are you not in California and how did you do this?” You try your best not to sound as giddy as you feel and ignore the somersaults your stomach is doing under your sweater.

“Well, as you know I did go home.”

“Yes, we all facetimed for Christmas I’m aware.”

“Don’t interrupt!” He playfully scolds, and it makes your face heat up. “As I was saying, I went home, but I was still thinking about you here alone and I just couldn’t stop imagining you sitting here with no one to celebrate any of the holidays with and I hated it. So, I bought a plane ticket and got back here this morning to surprise you. I actually didn’t know if you’d be in your room or not, but when I came by you were already gone so I let myself in and decided this was a better surprise than showing up with the decorations in my arms and making you put them up with me. Worked pretty well I'd say.” Joshua pats himself on the back and admires his work with a pleased grin.

“Okay… but why?”

“Why what?” Joshua sits on the bed next to you, your body going rigid. You try to create some distance between the two of you, the usual butterflies in your stomach going insane.

“Why did you go through the trouble of setting all of this up and leaving your family? During the holidays of all time.”

Joshua's face is suddenly serious as he turns towards you. “Because I know you. I know when you're unhappy, even when you try and hide it. You've been unhappy all month and I could tell. When you’re sad about something you get weirdly quiet all the time, whether you notice or not. You also get more agitated than usual and you stare off into space a lot.” He scoots closer to you ever so carefully. “We've known each other for two years so I've had plenty of time to pick up little things about you. I probably know more about you than you think.” Joshua shrugs and glances away from you. His tone has been casual, but you don’t miss the blush that spreads over his face.

“So… you ditched your family early to come back to school during break and spent your time and money on decorations for my room because you wanted me to not be unhappy?”

“Well, I mean you're my friend, obviously.” His face is still turned away from you, but the strain in his voice is noticeable. Seeing Joshua act so flustered gives you a boost of unexpected confidence, so you decide to see how far you can push this conversation. Admitting that you have a crush on him terrifies you to no end, but maybe you can gauge his feelings.

“But I'm also friends with Mingyu and Chan and they didn't go out of their way to do this for me.”

“Yeah, but they're not clever enough to think of doing this. And they're also nowhere near as nice as I am.”

“What about Wonwoo? He's pretty smart. And Seungcheol is actually the sweetest man I've ever met. If anyone would've planned all of this, it would've been him,” you say matter-of-factly.

Joshua finally turns to look at you then, clearly offended.

“What do you mean?! I’m very sweet! How about that time I brought you all of your homework and let you copy my lecture notes that whole week you were sick! And the time last year that I surprised you with EXID tickets for your birthday! And let us not forget all the food I’ve made and bought you when you have cravings! I’m so nice I don't know how you stand it! Seungcheol sucks." He puffs out his cheeks and crosses his arms, a pout forming on his perfect lips.

You have to turn your head and change the giggle you nearly let out into a cough.

“Well yeah, but Seungcheol always compliments me. He also makes sure that when he gets coffee for himself before our Tuesday morning class, that he brings me a caramel latte since he knows it’s my favorite. You've never brought me anything before our class.”

Joshua’s brown eyes stare into yours as you talk, his jaw clenching in annoyance, but you keep talking. “Oh! And he always holds doors open for me. Let's not forget what happened the last time you and a door were anywhere near me.”

“Not this again -” He groans out through gritted teeth.

“And, Seungcheol also makes sure any restaurants we go have plenty of nut-free options for my allergy and -” Joshua grabs your waist, tugging you forward and sending you falling against his chest. When you look up at him and your eyes meet, he hesitates for only a second before bringing his lips to meet yours.

He moves his hands up to cup your face and turns his head, aligning your lips at a better angle. Your fingers grip the front of his sweater, hands bunching up the fabric.

Kissing Joshua Hong is only something that you dream about and keep to yourself, but this moment, right now with him, is better than any scenario your brain has conjured up on its own.

The two of you lose track of time, nothing mattering except how soft Joshua’s lips are and how good he smells, and how warm his hands on you are.

It isn’t until you need to breathe do both of you pull back slowly, neither of you really wanting to do so. Once your eyes flutter open, they widen, the realization of what just happened hitting you. Joshua on the other hand looks much more relaxed - relieved even.

“I can’t believe you kissed me,” you breathe out, almost in a whisper, afraid that if you’re too loud you’ll wake up from what you’re still convinced may be a dream.

“I can’t believe you kissed me back.” The two of you share a quiet laugh.

“Is that why you came back to do all of this for me?”

Joshua gives you a look that very much feels like a non-verbal ‘duh!’ “I thought it was obvious honestly. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first met you.”

“With my bloody nose and all, huh?”

His pretty face twists in agony at your teasing. “You’re going to make me apologize for the rest of my life about the door huh?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Our kids are going to ask how we met and you’re going to tell them that their father nearly knocked you out and had to rush you to the campus infirmary and how for the rest of the day I stalked you around school to make sure you didn’t randomly pass out because I gave you brain damage.”

You chuckle at his dramatics, telling your heart to stop trying to leap out of your chest at the idea of kids and a future with Joshua. You’ve been more than friends for less than an hour at least - you have got to calm down.

“Oh, before I forget, no more talking about Seungcheol like that anymore, okay? And I'm going to tell him not to bring you lattes in the morning because I'm going to do it.”

“But your classes on Tuesdays don’t start until eleven.”

“Guess I'll just have to get up early and meet you then. I’m going to be nicer than Seungcheol can ever hope to be. You’re mine now so no one can be nicer to you than me.”

“Whatever you say, Shua.” You roll your eyes at him, fighting back a giddy smile.

“Good. Now that that's settled, let’s pack a bag for you.” Joshua hops off of the bed and drags your suitcase out from under your bed.

“What? Why?”

“You wouldn’t let me buy you a plane ticket back home, so you're coming home with me,” he says as he bounds over to your closet. Just as you open your mouth to object, he puts a hand up. “You're not going to spend the rest of the break here alone. I got a round-trip ticket for myself and one for you too. The flight leaves tomorrow morning, so we should get your stuff ready now.”

Crossing your arms, you watch him casually look through your clothes. “And what if I didn’t like you back? You didn’t even know that I felt the same way about you.”

He only shrugs. “Honestly? I didn’t plan that far ahead. I just wanted to get to you so you weren’t lonely anymore and I’d figure it out from there.” He emerges with an armful of your sweaters, beginning to neatly fold them and set them in your open suitcase. “But now I don’t have to vanish off the face of the planet due to embarrassment and a broken heart which is good because I told my parents I was bringing you back. My mom is super excited to meet you.”

The thought of going home with your friends was awkward to you which is why you turned everyone down. The thought of going home with your used-to-be-friend-who-is-now-your-boyfriend makes you just as nervous, if not more, but even so, you don’t object as you join Joshua in packing your things and set your bag by your door for the morning.

The two of you spend the rest of the night cuddling, something you never want to stop doing with him as long as you live. When the countdown to midnight starts, you watch on your laptop as a new station counts down and as soon as midnight hits, Joshua’s pulling you into another kiss, this one just as magical as the first.

Your lips are still tingling when he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

“Happy New Year, Y/n.”

“Happy New Year, Shua.”

Sleep comes next for both of you, Joshua mentioning that the flight is pretty early and that you need your rest before dealing with the chaos of the airport. He rambles a little as you fall asleep, going on about wanting to take you to all his favorite places back home. Just hearing the excitement in his voice helps you decide that maybe visiting his family wouldn't be so bad. Especially if he keeps kissing you the way he does and looking at you with those soft, sparkling eyes. Hell, if he asked you to fly to the moon with him right now, you’ll likely say yes without a second thought and not regret a single thing. Not as long as you’re with him.

[softykooky]

sanctuary: seven

summary: the absence of you is a void that they never thought they’d have to experience again. they were fine before they met you. but the sky would fall before the boys would be fine after you’ve gone. 8.03k words.

genre: mafia au, ANGST, poly au

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings (READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION) :  toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, eating problems, alcohol abuse, abandonment issues...

rating: NC17

author’s note: okay I lied there’s going to be another part! I just couldn’t fit all that I wanted and I figured it was better to give you guys something now instead of making you wait another century for me to wrap up the story. please let me know if I forgot anyone in the taglist! please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

♡ series masterpost ♡ 

Just leave.

Just leave.

Just leave.

Like a cruel rhythm or a drum that keeps on beating in your chest to remind you of the pain that rips through your heart. 

You’re such a fool, Y/N. 

Should you blame them for growing tired of you? Even snapping at you like they did, or did you deserve it? It was so easy for you to wither back into the mindset your father had trained you to adapt at the slightest intrusion. Now, after that massacre in the kitchen with the people you trusted with your whole being, you weren’t sure if it was possible to think otherwise. 

Through the warm tears that have clouded your eyes, frantically stuffing the little belongings you have into a backpack is otherworldly difficult. Your heart hurts. Your soul hurts. Your entire being hurts and you can only wonder how many times a person can be pushed aside and unwanted until they just completely break. You wonder how close you are to that point. 

There’s anger running through your veins, cocktailed with devastation and confusion, but you’re not sure what it is you’re angry at. Were you angry at them? Could you ever be angry at them, even after they did something like this? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore, but that wasn’t important. 

There was one objective in sight: pack up and get the hell out before you let anyone else completely destroy you. 

But even then, you can’t help but to think about how they hadn’t even bothered to come after you. None of them did. And it ignites a different fire of pain that you’re finding harder to ignore. You’re halfway through shoving your shirts into the backpack when a soft voice sounds from your doorway. Jun is standing there, fiddling with her apron and warm sympathy on her face. 

“Y/N, sweetie, they’re just...maybe give them some time. Please don’t go”, Jun sighs. 

“No, Jun. They don’t want me here anymore”, your voice cracks at the realization. “I’m not going to stay and be unwanted. I won’t do it again. I-I can’t.”

When the last item is tucked into the pocket of your bag, you swing it onto your shoulder. The weight of the backpack feels as though it’s pulling you deeper into the ground. Like you are sinking and there is nothing you can do but wait until your head is submerged. 

“Jun…” you breathe out, wiping away a warm stray tear, “could you...could you tell them that I’m sorry? I-I’m not sure what for, I guess for everything. But could you just tell them?”

Jun nods solemnly, though the reluctance is clear on her expression. Even she can recognize that you have nothing to apologize for. “I will, honey. Are you sure about this?”

“I have no choice, Jun. I love them and I-” you cut yourself off. 

This is the first time you’ve been able to say it out loud. You love them. You’ve fallen in love with them and the timing could not be worse. But all in all, you consider yourself lucky. There was no way you would have recovered if you confessed and all seven of them inevitably rejected it. Perhaps this fight just saved you the great pain of knowing they cannot love you back. 

“And I need to go.” 

You’d have to leave before dinner. Through the back door.  The one that no one thinks you know about but as always, no man gives you nearly enough credit as you deserve. You’ll tell the guards you’re going out for a walk and pray they don’t question the overstuffed backpack you’re hauling. You’ll just open it and run and…

Find a new home? A new life? Find a new set of souls that will cherish and care for you and make you feel like you’re actually meant to be in this world? 

You love them. That much you know is true. And perhaps people like you weren’t meant to have love in this world. 

“You’re excused, Lee. Be grateful you’re still here.” The venom in Namjoon’s voice remains clear as day, even after your ungraceful departure from the kitchen. You had left so abruptly with so few words that they weren’t able to even try and stop you. 

They still can’t see straight through the searing anger that pulses through their entire being. Anger at the world, and the traitors, and the idiotic rookie that lost them thousands in shipments. 

But the anger at you had faded a long time ago, the moment you bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. However, the boys were nothing if not stubborn. Why did you have to get in the way of their business? Why couldn’t you just remain kept away, for them to keep safe and away from the dangers of the outside world?

Jimin is the first one to make a move to the staircase, up to where you were packing, trying to be stealthy until the leader catches a glance of him. 

“Jimin. Stop. Just let her cool off”, Namjoon sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows to relieve his tension headache. He was usually the sensible one. The leader of the pack telling everyone to keep their cool. But the load on his shoulders has been getting far too heavy and you were the light breeze that caused it to collapse. 

“You should wait to calm down before you talk to her, anyway. That vein in your forehead might pop out of your skin”, Hoseok snidely remarks. 

Jimin scoffs, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day. 

“Everything we’ve been doing has been for her best interest. Why is she making this so difficult?”, he exhales, frustration still licking at every word. But with a mere glance at Jimin, anyone in the room could tell that he truly held no antipathy towards you. That his words were coming from an unresolved pool of anger that had been bubbling away for ages.

“You don’t think she means it, do you?”, Taehyung mutters, eyebrows still creased in intensity. “The leaving part?”

“Where could she go Taehyung? We’re all she has at this point”, Yoongi speaks. A layer of irony coats the room as Yoongi remembers the words he had spat at you in the heat of the moment. A vicious declaration to tell you to leave, and he feels a string of guilt twining itself around his lungs. He numbs it away, of course. As he does everything else. 

Jin takes a deep breath. “Listen, we’re all stressed and sleep-deprived. Why don’t we just calm down separately and talk it over at dinner? I’m sure by then, this whole thing will be completely forgotten.” His words sound sure and steady. Jin hopes they don’t notice the worry that bleeds into his voice. 

A chorus of agreements and hums quietly sound across the room as the seven of them shuffle out of the kitchen and slowly saunter into their respective rooms. And as they tiptoe past your bedroom, where your door was shut tight, the boys can’t help but feel the rationality that has begun to trickle back in. The logic and reason that had abandoned them during the fight had slowly returned, and the thought of you on the other side of that door made them all want to barge in and hold you again. 

Maybe they overreacted. Maybe they were wrong. Pride, however, was a stern mistress, and the potential consequences of their actions hadn’t yet reached their thoughts. They hadn’t realized the poison of their words.

 They would wait a bit longer. 

Everything would be okay after dinner. 

The first thing you realize after leaving is that you chose the wrong pair of shoes to attempt an escape on foot. Of course, you had to be wearing the new ones that the boys just bought you that hadn’t been broken in yet. The heel was digging into your skin painfully, undoubtedly leaving red marks and calluses. Your feet ached with every step, but you had to soldier on. At least until you found somewhere to rest for a bit and figure out where the hell you would go.

 A glance down at your phone has you eternally grateful for your past self for remembering to charge it. Hopefully it would last you until you found somewhere for the time being. 

There was no more family in the country besides your immediate ones. And you’d rather swallow knives than go back to that. The thought of them makes you sad though when you remember Soyeon.

 You wonder how she’s doing. The things she’s been up to. Is she shopping as much as she always does? Is she happy? Does she miss you? The train of thought makes you scoff at your own patheticism. Even after everything, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her. You would always love your sister. 

The Bangtan manor hadn’t been as far away from the city as you had thought. On the other hand, you weren’t exactly paying attention to the time. Just let your feet carry you where they wanted to and stared blankly at the passing ground, trying to empty your thoughts as best you could. The sky was beginning to darken and the wind blew a bit colder but you refused to let it slow your pace. You couldn’t let yourself feel. Not yet, anyway. 

The first motel you see is the one you enter. It’s not grand by any means; more of a fixer-upper. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet reeked of age and dust, and the receptionist was chewing gum and scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. The place was a dump compared to what the likes of you tended to live in. But you had limited cash, and this would have to do. 

It takes you three times clearing your throat for her to notice that a customer was at the front desk. 

“Hello. I’d like a room with one bed, please.” 

She doesn’t hide her blatant scrutinization of you, visibly looking you up and down with something akin to disapproval. Her phone is tossed on the counter annoyedly and she snaps her gum, wheeling her chair closer to the computer and clacks away on the keyboard. 

“ID and payment, please”, she drones, holding out a hand without sparing you another glance. When she looks at the card you have placed in her palm, there is a spark of recognition. The Yoo family name. She must have seen your name in the paper or something. The ambassador’s daughter. In a place like this?

You are eternally grateful when the receptionist says nothing; just hands you back your card and dangles a key from her red-nail polished index finger. You two exchange no more words. The only sounds in the lobby are the clinking of the metal key, the padding of your footsteps on soft carpet, and the smacking of the bubblegum between her lips. But it is enough to begin to allow the loneliness in. The fear of it all. The uncertainty and utter devastation that you have left behind the one place that had just started to feel like home. 

When the door of your motel room closes, and it is just you... 

You with the clothes on your back, the necessities in your bag, and all the feelings you have kept bottled up for weeks on end. It is more than easy to collapse in a cathartic heap as soon as the lock clicks in place. 

Who cares if the walls are paper-thin? You scream it out on the undoubtedly dirty floors. The agony of being so close to happiness only to have it ripped away from your hands. The pain of knowing them, only for them to push you out of their lives. 

You don’t weep for anyone else. Not the seven boys you loved, not Soyeon, not your father, not Jun. 

You cry for Y/N. 

You cry for the realization that maybe the thing you’ve been chasing your entire life is simply not in reach. That peace was something you had to fight for, completely alone. That they don’t love you back, or even nearly as much as you loved them. If they did, you wouldn’t be here, desperately trying to hold yourself together for what seems like the billionth time. If they loved you back, well...you reckon that reality only exists in your surreal dreams. 

There were distant cousins. In the states. And if you could get a hold of them, you had faith they would be willing to fly you over. You could spin an excuse at the drop of a hat. Maybe something about wanting to see America for a while and get away from your normal routine in Seoul. Something about needing space or enjoying time with missed relatives. They’d believe it. You’ll leave as soon as you can, hopefully in the morning. 

Naturally, this night is sleepless and you swear the sky is darker than usual. It’s starless, and even the moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden behind overcast clouds and you want to cry even more. Because after everything, is it still too much to let you feel the light? Is it still too much to let you rest under a gentle nightscape? 

You make a promise to yourself. To Y/N. 

You wouldn’t let her chase after pipe dream happiness anymore. You wouldn’t let her be so naive, so hopeful for something better. You’ve had your chance at finding it, and after more bumps and bruises, have come to the conclusion that maybe it merely does not exist for you. 

You promise her a lifetime of loneliness and solitude. But those are familiar things. Comfortable things. And you would take that over a broken heart any day. 

As soon as they fell onto their respective beds, all seven of them had drifted off to sleep. It seemed that days of constant work, chugging black coffee, and pulling consecutive all-nighters had taken its toll, and the boys finally caught up to the pure, unadulterated exhaustion. 

The seven of them slept through the night, plans of dinner completely forgotten as they glued themselves to the comfortable bedding. Unfortunately, with needed rest came a clear mind and the realization that they had been completely and utterly horrible to you ever since it all went down. 

Jungkook is the first to wake up. He brushes his teeth and slips on an outfit with a rapid fervor, ready to put everything behind him and just...hold you. Because he realizes it’s been weeks since he actually has, and maybe that’s just the thing he’s been needing. To feel your frame in his arms and hear your soft breathing. 

“Taehyung! Get up!” Jungkook pounds on the door of his hyung’s room. He hears shuffling from the other side, and a rustled bedhead emerges from a dark cavern.

“What Jungkook? It’s too early for this”, he grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Hyung we all slept like the dead through dinner. I’d rather not let this whole thing with Y/N marinate for any longer. Get up and let’s talk it through, I know you miss her like crazy too.” Jungkook does his best to keep his voice down since you were still sleeping in the room beside Taehyung’s. He has to round up all of them first before asking you to come out. 

So he does. Sweeps his floor and the one above to awaken the other six men. Jin and Namjoon were the only others who were dressed and ready to tackle the day. The rest of them moved like zombies to rid themselves of the sleepy fatigue. 

Somehow, they all manage to congregate in front of your door, nervously staring it down while the tension in the air choked them. It’s unnerving. The radio silence coming from your room. You must be really upset, and reasonably so. Hoseok clears his throat, twisting his hands together out of nerves, and glances at the others. 

“Well? Should I knock?”, he whispers. The other six nod solemnly, glaring at the door like it might combust at any moment. 

He steps forward gingerly and raps on your bedroom door thrice. The seconds trickle by like molasses, even slower when there is no sound from your end.

 He knocks again.

 Nothing.

 A third time. 

Complete and utter silence. 

“Y/N?”

Hoseok’s eyebrows deeply furrow, and with trepidation, he twists the doorknob and swings it open. The bedsheets are made, duvet untouched and pillows stacked neatly against the headboard. The curtains are drawn and everything looks fairly clean. Almost as if there was no one in there in the first place. Now that he looks closer, the only sign of you being there was the vase of brown and wilting peonies on the bedside table. The ones they had gotten for you months ago. Even your scarce amount of belongings were nowhere to be found. 

In the ache of the silence, nothing can be heard but their utter shock. Their minds jumping to the worst conclusion but still in denial because there’s no way that you would do that. No way they could have lost you when they all loved you so much. 

“M-maybe she’s in the basement. Or the library. I’m sure she didn’t….she hasn’t….”, Jimin cuts himself off as he drifts off into all the terrible possibilities. Namjoon yells at the guards downstairs from the second floor, and the sounds of their rushed footsteps to find you in this giant house is the only noise that reaches their ears. 

“Jun!” Taehyung hollers down below, where she is undoubtedly fussing away in the kitchen or slaving over a boiling pot. The woman calmly emerges upstairs with a sharp gaze, head held high and shoulders stiff in her posture. There is no emotion on her face, except the faint disappointment as she stands in front of the seven men.

“Where is she?”, Yoongi growls, stepping forward like a huffing beast, but Jun remains unbothered.

“Where is who?” Jun monotones. 

“Don’t play dumb, Jun. Where is Y/N?” She scoffs at the concern dripping in Yoongi’s voice. How ironic that the very person who maliciously told you to leave was now in pieces at your absence. 

“I was surprised you even noticed. It’s not something you’ve been doing as of late. Noticing”, Jun calmly retorts. She’s never been one to be afraid of them. Never scared to stand up to them, because though they were grown men, they often still needed some mothering. 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Jungkook spits, frustratedly gripping at his hair.

“Is it not true, boys? Y/N’s been practically invisible to you these past few weeks. Who knew it would take a mere fight to finally get you guys to pay attention to her.” Jin’s reflex is to immediately respond with an argument. But the words die on his tongue when he realizes the truth in Jun’s statement.

The seven of them stare at her in silence, still high-strung on stress and anger, but intent to listen to her words. 

“She left.”

The two words that they had been so desperate not to hear sound like a death knell when they fall from Jun’s lips. Their blood runs cold, and the temperature in the house drops to subzero. A moment frozen in time and all they can do is be forced to come to terms with their actions . The room immediately explodes into desperate questions and exclamations to their head housekeeper.

“Where is she? Did she say where she’s going”, Hoseok tearily yells.

“Did she leave a note?” Jungkook chews on his lower lip until it bleeds.

“When did she leave? She couldn’t have gotten far.” Jimin grabs Jun by the shoulders, forcing her closer as if he could look in her eyes and pretend she was lying.

“Excuse me if I am speaking out of turn, Sir”, Jun clears her throat, “but what did you think was going to happen?”

The seven of them are stunned into silence, swimming in utter confusion and worry about where in the world you could be. If you were in danger at all. 

“She’s been left by herself for weeks. In this big, cold house while you all were wrapped up in your business. Tried talking to you so many times, but you all pushed her away.” Jun sighs disappointedly.

Her words ring with truth, and perhaps that is the most painful part about it all. The boys can’t do anything but stand there and listen. You were dear to Jun, and she wouldn’t let the fear of standing up to her intimidating bosses keep her from saying the things you didn’t have the courage to. 

“Y/N, she...she’s been struggling. Did she tell you that? Wouldn’t sleep for days, so I sometimes snuck melatonin into her afternoon tea. But still, she’d come out of that bedroom with dark circles that almost looked painful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her toss and turn all night, Taehyung.” Jun spares him a glance. Not malicious or accusing. Just genuine curiosity and it makes Taehyung want to burrow himself into the ground. 

Namjoon’s heart drops as Jun continues speaking. How could they have been so oblivious to everything? So out of touch and wrapped up in other priorities that they seemed to completely forget about you? Arguably the most important person in their life. 

“Sometimes, she even refused to eat. Couldn’t even stomach a cup of soup, and she’s gotten so thin, I had to tailor all her clothes.” 

Jin’s eyes widen at the statement, his throat in knots and the sinking feeling in his gut only magnifying. Like ice water to warm skin. That’s how Jun’s words felt to their system. Like they had been so blind this entire time, so distracted by everything else that they forgot someone who had become one of the most important people to them. 

“Forgive me for speaking my truth, sir. But I’ve never quite felt such disappointment when I heard the things you said to Y/N yesterday. A-And I don’t condone her decision to leave. But can you blame her?” Jun sighs, exasperated as her worry for you seeps into her consciousness. 

Jimin pushes away the tears that have clouded his eyes, looking down at the marble floors so that no one sees the gloss that wasn’t there before Jun started speaking. He pretends not to notice the way Jungkook’s tremulous and shaky breathing, or the way Yoongi’s fisted hands have turned completely white from the tension. All he can think about...all they can think about...is you. 

Hoseok coughs, clearing his throat and steeling his voice to not show emotion. “Did she tell you where she was going?”

Jun shakes her head solemnly, twisting her apron in her hands. The boys begin to make their way downstairs, tension in the air thicker than ever and only one priority clear in their minds.

“However…”, Jun’s small voice stops them in their concentrated footsteps. “While she was packing, she told me to say one thing to you all.”

It’s expectant. They almost don’t want to hear it at all. Hearing it would affirm that they are completely undeserving of you. That you are an angel among beasts whose love language is to destroy and wreck. That maybe leaving them would be the best thing to happen to you. 

“She told me to tell you she’s sorry. For everything.”

Everything is what you deserved. Everything is what they would do to prove that to you. 

Korea from the view of your aunt’s private jet was a bittersweet revelation. It was beautiful. So achingly and hauntingly beautiful with the ghosts of your past and the shattered promises for the future. If you squint, you could still make out remnants of the Han River. Traces of a place that seemed to cry for you as you left for the states.

You didn’t want to be truthful to yourself. You didn’t want to admit that you wouldn’t miss Korea because of the people or the landscape or the weather. You’d miss it because they were there. That home had been so close you could nearly taste it. 

The trip was a chaotic blur. You faded in and out of sleep, in a hypnotic trance that proved to be your body’s self-defense mechanism to repress every emotion you had felt since you left. Stewardesses offering you flutes of champagne, drivers loading and unloading your luggage, the words of everyone around you flowing in and out like a stream of water that you ignored. 

“I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Y/N? Really, you must come visit more often. Your uncle and I have missed you terribly.” 

Your aunt had always been a kind woman. She was from your mother’s side, and like everyone else, so oblivious to the true nature of the Yoo family. How sinister things truly were behind those closed, gold-plated doors. Their house was grand, large enough so that you could make yourself scarce and wouldn’t be a disturbance. Though you couldn’t help but to notice the lack of boyish voices drifting down the hall, or the rhythm of Taehyung’s hands on the keyboard in the room next to you. 

You offer a kind smile to the butler, who gently sets your singular backpack on the plush bed that screamed out your name. 

“Thank you so much for everything, Aunt Kim. I promise I’ll transfer over the money for the plane fees and carry my weight around here for the time being.” 

Your words make you nearly wince with the uncertainty of your wobbly plans. Where would you even get the money? Ask your father? Ask them? 

“I....I promise to be out of your hair as quickly as I can”, you shakily breathe, failing to convince yourself. Yet your aunt only holds a kind smile and a warm gaze.

“Stay as long as you want, dear. It’s the least we could do to repay everything your family has done for us over the years. Especially your father.”

You know you cannot blame her oblivion. Not when it is such a well-guarded secret. Yet her words douse kerosene to the fire in your chest. Tugs at the stitches of the subconscious wounds you have yet to heal. It makes you remember them. Your boys. How they would burn at hearing such words, grit their teeths and spit poison at anyone who held your father’s name in a high regard.

Or would they? After everything, you’re not so sure anymore. Painful or not, it makes you miss them even more. 

So you smile. Bite your tongue, hold your fists at your side, and thank her again for the kindness she has shown you when you had nowhere else to run. America felt different. The air itself seemed like a culture shock. Being the ambassador’s daughter had prepared you for fluency in English and how to carry yourself diplomatically, but the journey ahead was bound to be rough. 

For the first time in your life, you would be the only one you had to care for. Not Soyeon, not your mother, not Bangtan. You’d have to do this by yourself, now, and though all the emotions you have locked away will inevitably return to confront you, this sanctuary for now would have to be enough.

You were surprisingly more difficult to find than the boys had expected. Traveling alone with no clunky belongings meant you were able to move more quickly than they had anticipated and the motel you stayed at was paid for in all cash. However, nothing in the city could really happen under Bangtan’s watch, and here you were. Video footage displayed on the screen of their basement office, and they can only feel heartache as they watch you through the screen. 

“She checked out in the morning. Got picked up by a gray SUV and taken to the airport.” Taehyung drones, eyes still glued to the screen. Like looking at your pixelated face would bring you closer to him somehow. He missed you. They all did. 

“The plane’s not registered with any public company, so I’m guessing it’s a private one belonging to her family.” Taehyung adds on, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the table. The air was tense with frustration. Anger at themselves and at each other for letting his happen. For making you run away. 

“Any idea where it’s going?” Yoongi quietly murmurs from the end of the long table. 

“America.” 

America. You felt so discouraged and hurt by them that you had to go all the way to America. They did this. This is their fault.

“So? What are we waiting for? Tell the guards to prep the jet to America. We’ll bring her back”, Jimin gawks at Namjoon, who nurses a glass of scotch like it’s his lifeline. The room falls silent awaiting their leader’s course of action, but the six of them are left speechless when Namjoon himself starts laughing. The kind of laugh that sends chills down their spines. So raucous yet emotionless. So full of hidden pain. Namjoon tips the rest of the glass down his throat, looking at them all with a hopeless expression. 

“What makes you think she wants to see us? After what we put her through? Hell, I’d be surprised if she lets us within a 10 foot radius.” Namjoon’s words are cruel, but they can’t help but to believe it to be true. 

“N-No. She’ll understand that we were stressed. I-If we just explain everything, I’m sure she’ll-”

“Don’t you remember what happened in the kitchen? What Jun said? She’s been withering away for weeks, Jimin, and none of us gave enough of a fuck to notice. We made her feel invisible.” Namjoon chuckles, but there is only pain in his tone. One that he drowns out with another swig of top-shelf whiskey. 

“We can fix it. We can go to America and fix it”, Hoseok stares down the leader, insistent on making efforts. 

“No we can’t Hoseok”, Jin’s brows furrow, eyes lighting with fire, “Jun said she didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. I wouldn’t take us back either.” 

The boys know better than to take it personally. They were all heartbroken in the wake of your leaving, so desperate to get to you yet ashamed of themselves, apprehensive of if they even have the right to chase after you. 

Jungkook leaps up from his seat, chest huffing and hands raking violently through his hair. He paces back and forth, eyes swimming in hurt and frustration until it all seemed to combust through his body, flinging his office chair to the side to find any form of catharsis. 

He spares a poisoned glance over to Yoongi’s direction, who still sits with his eyes glued to the floor, as if ashamed of his mere existence. 

“You.” The malice in Jungkook’s voice is crystal clear.Yoongi’s shirt collar is acquaintanced with Jungkook’s fisted hand, and he grips onto the older man like a viper to its prey. As if blunt force could make you come back. The other five boys could only watch. 

“You did this. You told her to leave. Now she’s gone. I loved her, Yoongi.” Though Jungkook’s words are pumped with antipathy, the sheer devastation is heard most through it all. Yoongi doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t even make a move to push the younger off or shield himself from oncoming hits. Just sits passively with a monotone expression, staring into Jungkook’s eyes with a blank gaze.

“You’re not faultless. You yelled at her too.” 

No, none of them are faultless. And perhaps Yoongi’s words were the nails in the coffin, but they all had part in pushing you to that brink. Jungkook’s eyes gloss over with defeat, and the grip he had on Yoongi’s shirt loosens. He steps away, unable to meet any of the gazes of his older brothers or the footage of your distressed face on the flat screen monitor. Leave. That’s all he’s known to do.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi holds no anger in his voice. It stops Jungkook in his tracks as he waits for his hyung to finish. 

“I loved her too. We all do.”

They can only pray they’ll get to tell you. 

The diner two blocks away from your aunt’s apartment complex is the last place anyone would expect Ambassador Yoo’s eldest daughter to be, much less employed at. You had spent the last two weeks scouring the area for a place that would take a girl with no prior work experience, a pending student visa, and no contacts or references. But here you were, working a minimum wage job and saving every penny to make something of yourself in this entirely new country. 

It hasn’t been easy. Trying not to think about the seven boys that you left back home. The seven boys that you love so desperately and hopelessly, and foolishly thought they felt the same. It’s in the wee hours of the night that you toss and turn, closing your eyes and imagine yourself back at their manor. You will your brain to manifest the clacking sounds of Taehyung’s keyboard from across the wall or the footsteps of Yoongi’s bulky shoes when he walks past your door every night. 

You miss them compulsively so. And perhaps they do not deserve your thoughts or heartache, but it belongs to them. Even after everything, you still belong to them. But you won’t give yourself the luxury of thinking you mean more than someone who they took pity on. 

The days are the same. You get up early in the morning, put on a pot of coffee by yourself much to the disapproval of the housekeeper. Though it’s baby steps, you feel more independent this way. The coffee is terrible, of course, but it’s the thought that counts. 

You leave before your aunt even leaves her bedroom, dedicated to your full-time job and earning money whenever you can. The pay is almost humorous, and a week’s worth of your labor probably equates to what Soyeon spends in a day. But it is your work. Your money. And though everyday starts and ends with heartache and longing for a life you once had in your grasp, it feels refreshing to learn to only need yourself. 

“Y/N”, your manager sighs as you stumble through the door with frazzled hair and painfully dark under eyes. “You’re late.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. Traffic was insane this morning. It won’t happen again.” Your hair is expertly swept back into a haphazard bun, fiddling with the apron around your waist before jumping to the orders that have begun to get cold on the counter. 

The work was simple. Slow. But it was honest and enough for you. The diner was calm; a refreshing environment from the one you had in Korea. 

“Here you are, sir. Black coffee and a side of toast”, you muttered in a sugary sweet voice, fake smile stretched on your face to hide the perpetual pain in your chest that has not went away since you left the Bangtan house. It’s easier these days to just not think about it. To completely repress the trauma of your father and the boys and the failed therapy. The smile drops as soon as you turn around to walk back to the counter. 

“Rough morning?” Lina’s voice is gravelly, rough from the coffee and 15-minute smoke breaks she takes every lunch. 

“Something like that.” You collapse onto the cashier counter, holding your head in your hands to will away the pounding ache of your temples. 

“First it was me completely sleeping through the morning alarm. Then it was the bus detouring and making five extra stops they usually don’t”, you huff.

“Y/N?”

“And don’t get me started on the fact that I decided to drop my phone in a puddle when I was running here.”

“Y/N.” Lina’s voice cuts through your venting monologue. She stares past you, as if there was something behind you captivating her attention. 

“I think someone is staring at us from across the street.” Your brows furror at her words, whipping around to the window. When you see him. The air in the diner thins until it completely disappears, and the breath is stolen from your lungs. 

Your paled face and shaking hands is what he sees from where he’s standing, clad in a black hoodie that covered his head, but you could recognize him in your sleep.You are both frozen in time and chaos, staring at each other like you both did not belong. Eyes glued to the other like you are both too good to be true.

 Are you imagining it? Through the tears that reflexively pooled in your eyes and the way your body quivers, are you finally going insane and imagining a person who has been plaguing your mind for weeks? 

Your feet carry you into action when your mind is still stuck in shellshock, bursting out of the diner doors with desperation on your tongue, hands reaching out as if it would span across the streetlight and bring him closer. 

“Jin?” You are not quiet. You scream his name across what feels like a chasm, but is only just a couple meters away. Your legs usher you into the open street, and cars veer and honk to avoid your form, frozen on the crosswalk. 

It takes you one second to blink and him one second to disappear into the crowd. Like he was never there at all and your mind was playing cruel, evil tricks on your already crumbling soul. A ruse that Lina was in on, just to torture your decimated spirit. 

Could you allow yourself the luxury to think that he had come to see you? You didn’t know if you even wanted him to, didn’t know if you had it in you to forgive and forget.

“Jin.” 

It comes out as a shaky whisper under your breath. A broken voice that longs for something she cannot have. Something that was so far in space and time it now felt like a figment of your imagination. You allow a tear to fall, your heart to crack a bit more, and return to the diner.

“Where have you been running off to these days?” The words are snide. Coated in feigned concern and curiosity and meant to be a jab at Jin’s recent absence in Bangtan activities. They are easy to fall from Yoongi’s lips as he steals another swig of the McKellan whiskey he’s been saving up for a special occasion or a rainy day. What more fitting than to mourn the space in his heart where you used to be. 

Jin stays silent, only giving the intoxicated Yoongi a heavy eye roll and trudging past him. To say that the seven men were in terrible shape after your departure is a gross understatement. But Yoongi’s onset alcoholism seemed mild compared to how the rest of the boys were faring.

Both Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t left their rooms since finding out you were in America, only the sounds of their computer keys, heavy footsteps, and the empty food plates left at their doors to signal that they were alive in there. Namjoon had thrown himself into work, picking up the slack of all the other boys and sometimes emerging from his office at the early hours of dawn looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. His gaunty face and the way his once fitted shirt now falls loosely on his shoulders tells Jin he hasn’t eaten much either. 

Hoseok could more often than not be found in the training room, breaking and bruising himself to numb him from the pain of losing you. He takes it out on the poor gang recruits that were unlucky enough to be chosen to spar with him. 

And Jin? Well, Jin spent his days away from the house. Away from the business and the drugs and the people. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s coming back and they are all too drained to try to ask. The boys live together but not truly. Just exist and breathe in the same space and too resentful of themselves and the others to fix the fragments you left behind. They miss you. Long for you and burn for you like they never have for anyone else. 

See, it’s one thing to not know where you are and be forced to be away from you on the basis of ignorance. But to know your exact location, have the time and resources to easily get to you, yet can’t come to you because they’ve hurt you immeasurably is a different kind of torture. A different kind of ache that haunts their souls at every waking moment. You are so close and so far away, and they only have themselves to blame for the distance. 

“Jun, can you make a meal for Namjoon? I’ll take it up to him.” Jin sighs to the housekeeper, shedding off his coat on the kitchen stool. 

Jun nods knowingly, fully aware of the effects your absence has had on the masters of the house. And she is not blind to Jin’s indifference or the way he is doing worlds better than the others. 

“He’ll probably try to yell at me and make you go away first. But he’ll be thankful eventually.” Jin nurses a cup of tea to warm him after his journey. Ones that he takes every week and for days at a time. 

Jun nods again, assembling a tray of food that Namjoon will undoubtedly leave to get cold either at his door or the end of his desk. Before he leaves, however, Jun spares the man a knowing glance and a sad smile. 

“You may want to return the private jet more promptly next time, sir. The others have gotten...wary.” 

Jin’s eyes widen at her words, frozen for a millisecond in his footsteps as realization strikes in that he hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he thought. He says nothing as he departs from the kitchen. Only stares at the marble floor and wonders what would be the next time he’d get to see you. Even if from a street’s distance. 

It takes four syncopated knocks before semblance of a noise emerges from behind Namjoon’s closed door. It comes in the form of an angered grunt, but Jin is no stranger to his leader’s brunt. He opens the door with no further permission. 

Namjoon is in worse shape than he had expected. His hair is another level of unruly, greasy and matted and looking like the man ran his hands through it a billion times. The paperwork strewn across his desk and floor reflects the mess in Namjoon’s own head. Like he is suffocating himself in his work but still finds breath in his lungs. Still finds you in his thoughts. 

“You need to eat”, Jin states demandingly. Namjoon only hums in response, keeping his eyes glued to the work in front of him. Jin pushes the tray into his line of vision.

“Eat, Joon. You can’t work if you starve. Y/N would want you to eat.” 

Your name makes his pen stop writing. Makes his eyes widen like he hasn’t heard it said aloud in ages. It’s pathetic to Namjoon, really. How much one person has affected him.

“How would you know what Y/N wants, Jin? How would any of us?” He sneers, resuming the scribbling on his paper. Jin sighs dejectedly, opting to leave the food on his table and not be bothered with trying to help someone who so clearly didn’t want to be helped. He turns around to leave. Until Namjoon opens his mouth again. 

“Unless….”, he teeters, “you do know what she wants.” He tosses the pen and papers aside, crossing his arms and sitting back in the desk chair. 

“Unless you’ve been going behind our backs to see her.”

Had he been turned around facing Namjoon, the younger would have seen the clear exposed truth on his face. The blatant and unhidden look of guilt and shame that he quickly masks once he whips to face Namjoon. 

“What are you talking about?” 

The responding statement is quick. Too quick. Too accosting. Namjoon squints his eyes. 

“Only the several days these past weeks you’ve disappeared from Bangtan’s radar. The bills for the jet fuel sent to my directory. The pilots you’ve been pulling away from our forces in Korea to personally tend to whatever shady business you’ve been hiding under my nose.” 

Namjoon’s words are rapid fire, piercing into the facade that Jin thought he had so carefully crafted. He should’ve known nothing goes unnoticed under the leader’s eye. 

“Namjoon, I-”

“Just be glad I didn’t tell the others. Especially Jungkook.” The thought of the youngest makes him sigh. Jungkook has always been so volatile. A ticking, emotionally-charged and codependent time bomb hiding under that muscle and masculinity. Namjoon knew better than to expose something like this just yet.

When he looks up at the man standing in the doorway of his office, he’s looking straight past him. Through the window like it was you he saw in the sky. Observing him now, up close and with more attention, Namjoon finally gets to truly see him. 

On the surface, Jin is faring worlds better than any of them. He’s clean and freshly showered, hair coiffed to perfection like it usually is. He dons a black button up; perfectly ironed without a crease in sight. But Namjoon knows him better than that. Jin looks so utterly drained it stirs sympathy in even the darkest of hearts. His eyes communicate something his words can’t: Seokjin is completely lost without your light. 

“I’m sorry.” The words come out breathily. Like he’s been waiting to say it all this time but couldn’t. 

“I just…”, he stares down at his hands, “I just needed to see her. See if she was doing alright after we…” Jin trails off, not able to face the truth of their actions just yet. And though there is lingering anger in Namjoon, he can’t help but to feel his distress vicariously. 

“You know, she’s a waitress now. At this small, run-down diner downtown. With a cute little apron and everything”, he chuckles softly, sadness seeping in every word. 

“She lives with her aunt and uncle, and walks everywhere because she doesn’t have a car, at unholy hours of the night which keeps me up every night constantly worrying about her. But that’s Y/N, isn’t it? So careless of her own safety and well-being.” 

Namjoon refrains the smile that creeps on his face at the thought of you. 

“She was smiling when I saw her. I could still see she was sad but she was smiling. Like she always does just so other people feel happier around her.”

“Jin, you don’t have to-”

“And she’s lost so much weight, Namjoon. She was trying to yell out for help and all we did was ignore her.”

Jin’s words are nails on a chalkboard. Vinegar in wine. It makes them both nauseous and rueful, and the oxygen in Namjoon’s office suddenly becomes all too suffocating. Your presence, or lack thereof, has left a heavy residue on the walls of the manor. 

The two boys sit in silence for a moment, before the sound of thumping boots on hardwood flooring echoes down the hallway, getting louder as it approaches the office. The door is nearly taken off its hinges as it violently swings open. Taehyung stands in the threshold, sweat on his brow and chest huffing up and down like an overexerted engine. He is pale in the face, hands trembling at his side and the sheer shock in his gaze tells the two older men that the words preparing to slip from his tongue are not going to be pleasant. Jin and Namjoon brace themselves for impact. 

“It’s Y/N”, his whispered voice quivers. Their hearts drop. 

“There’s been an accident.” 

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[oreoambitions]

I just want to crosspost this from the Yosemite National Park facebook page, because I think it’s a really important message for anyone who spends time in wild places. Apologies if it has already been crossposted.

Speeding Kills Bear We get this call a lot. Too much, to be honest. “Bear hit by vehicle, dead on the side of the road.” Sadly, it’s become routine. I log the coordinates into my phone, gather the equipment I may need, and head to the location. This call came in cold; it sounds like the collision happened sometime around noon and it’s 4 pm now. The location is an hour’s drive away, so by the time I get there it’s well after 5 pm. I pull off on the shoulder, lug a large backpack of equipment over my back, and head off down the road. My job here is easy, really: find the bear, move its body far away from the road to prevent any other animals from getting hit while scavenging on it, fill out a report, and collect samples and measurements for research. Then I’m off on my way again with another number to add to the total of bears hit by vehicles this year—data we hope will help prevent future collisions. Pretty callous. However, the reality behind each of these numbers is not. Per the coordinates I was given, I’m still a few hundred yards off, so I continue down the road scanning it for blood as cars whiz by. I try to remember how many times I’ve done this now and, truthfully, I don’t know. This is not what any of us signs up for, but it’s a part of the job nonetheless. Then something catches my eye. It’s small and artificial, and laying in the middle of the road. As I walk closer, I see that it’s a broken shapeless car part, likely from an undercarriage. More cars whiz past. I turn my gaze from the car part down the embankment on the side of the road and there it is.   A cub. Its tiny light brown body laying just feet from me and the road, nearly invisible to every passerby. It’s a new cub—couldn’t be much more than six months old, now balled up and lifeless under a small pine tree. For a moment I lose track of time as I stand there staring at its tiny body, but then the sound of more cars whizzing by reminds me of my place and my role. I let out a deep sigh and continue on with my task.   I pick up the cub—it couldn’t be much more than 25 pounds—and begin carrying it off into the woods. I have no certain destination; I’m just walking until I can no longer hear the hiss of the road behind me. I see a grassy spot surrounded by a semi-ring of down logs and gravitate towards it. The least I can do is find it a nice place to be laid. I lay it down in the grass protected by one of the nearby logs and sit back on the log opposite of it, slightly relieved that it looks far more in place now than when I found it earlier. I take another moment and then continue with my work. I slide off my backpack, remove a binder, and start the assessment. It’s a female. This immediately triggers thoughts of the life this bear may have lived—perhaps she would have had cubs of her own—but before I finish that thought I hear a stick break and look up. Just beyond the ring, there’s a familiar figure intently staring back at me. It’s another bear. Surprised, I stand up quickly and the bear runs off into the brush but stops not far off and looks back at me. Acting on instinct, I pick up a stick and smash it over a tree to scare the bear further away. I stand there quietly, listening as I hear the bear’s footsteps tapper away.   A few silent minutes pass, and I settle back into my task. Timely coincidence, I think at first. It could be a bear coming to scavenge or this could be a common crossing area for whatever reason—we did have another bear hit and killed not far from here last week. But then I hear it, and it changes my mind completely. From behind me there’s a deep toned but soft sounding grunt. I immediately know what it is. It’s a vocalization, the kind sows (female bears) make to call to their cubs. I turn and look in its direction and there she is, the same bear from before intently staring back at me. It’s no coincidence. I can feel the callousness drain from my body. This bear is the mom, and she never left her cub. My heart sinks. It’s been nearly six hours and she still hasn’t given up on her cub. I can just imagine how many times she darted back and forth on that road in attempts to wake it. It's extremely lucky that she wasn't hit as well. The calls to the cub continue, sounding more pained each time. I glance back finding myself hoping it would respond to her call too, but of course, nothing. Now here I am, standing between a grieving mother and her child. I feel like a monster. I get up, quickly pack my bag, and get out of there. It is time to go even though my task is not done. Quickly, I set up a remote camera. Why? Every year we report the number of bears that get hit by vehicles, but numbers don’t always paint a picture. I want people to see what I saw: the sad reality behind each of these numbers.   So please, remember this. Remember that when traveling through Yosemite, we are all just visitors in the home of countless animals and it is up to us to follow the rules that  protect them. Go the speed limit, drive alertly, and look out for wildlife. Protecting Yosemite’s black bears is something we can all do. Learn more at http://keepbearswild.org/vehicle-bear-collisions/.

[just-a-really-tall-girl-tbh]

Grounded

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped and forced to reveal secrets of the pack

Pairing: Derek X Reader

Warnings: Blood, torture, swearing

Word count: 2605

Original piece please don’t copy

The school bell rang for the final time that day, a collective sigh of gratitude echoed in the room, the teenagers grateful to be released from the maths teacher’s class. Gathering your books, you stacked them in a neat pile before exiting the room, offering a small smile to your defeated teacher. It wasn’t her fault maths sucked and no one enjoyed it, you did feel bad for her on some level but also who the hell would willingly dedicate their life to teaching numbers?

Entering the hallway, you made your way through the sea of teenagers, everyone desperate to go home for the weekend. Reaching your locker, you grabbed the couple books you needed, shoving them into your backpack, thinking about the homework you had due on Monday you sighed. The door to your locker slammed shut before you could close it.

“Hey, you ready?” Stiles smiled.

“I told you I can walk home.” You rolled your eyes, walking away from the boy. Surprised by your quick movement, Stiles jogged to catch up to you, throwing an arm lazily around your shoulders.

“I know you can walk home but why would you when you have me?”

Exiting the main doors of the high school, you welcomed the fresh warm air, the smell of angsty teens left behind you. Reaching the end of the pavement, you saw the jeep parked a few cars away.

“Stiles I want to walk.” You turned to face the boy.

“Y/n, you heard what Derek said okay? All these recent attacks? The break ins and thefts? He doesn’t want you alone.” Stiles tried to reason with you. Knowing the recent spike in criminal activity was less than likely to involve the supernatural, you felt safe walking the 20-minute trip home. In fact, you enjoyed the peace it brought you. Half of the walk was through the woods, a quiet haven from the busy high school, and being autumn, you relished in the yellow and orange leaves that swept through the small woodlands.

“Stiles. It’s 20 minutes. I’ll text you when I get home okay?” Stiles sighed.

“You know Derek is going to kill me if I let you, you know, that right? You like the idea of alive Stiles because I do! And I am not letting you be the reason I don’t make it to my 20’s okay?”

“Derek doesn’t have the balls to kill you.” You turned on the heel of your foot, headed towards the woods, leaving a defeated Stiles in your wake.

“I’m telling Derek you said he has no balls!” He called after you. You let out a small laugh, grabbing your headphones from your backpack, and your phone from your pocket, you scrolled through your playlist, deciding today was the perfect day for (Your current favourite song).

Entering the woods, you felt a rush of calm wash over you, the stressful week was pushed to the back of your mind, your thoughts centred on the surrounding woods. You stepped over exposed roots and around large bushes, glancing up at the sky you watched as the wind swept through the foliage, the ageing leaves dancing in the light breeze. The sun peaked through the cracks, determined to reach the forest floor, providing the perfect amount of light for your stroll. The floor of the woods had been coated in fallen leaves, leaving a blanket of red and orange below your feet. Taking a moment to stop and appreciate the tranquillity the forest provided you, you felt your phone buzz in you pocket.

Home yet? I’m this close to sending out a search party!

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head you began typing a response.

You need to…

Before you could finish you felt a knock to your head, your vision distorted, the soft sound of music playing through your headphones which were now next to you on the forest floor, was the only thing you could hear before everything went black.

***

Another blow straight to your stomach knocked the wind out of you. Coughing and spluttering you attempted to regain your breath, each inspiration hurting more than the last.

“Oh, you are so going to regret that.” You mumbled.

Leaning to the side of the chair you spat a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground, you couldn’t tell where the source of the blood was coming from, maybe your lip, or maybe the inside of your mouth. Too many lacerations to your face meant it all blended into one.

You raised your eyes to meet your rival, struggling to see through the blood you saw one man wiping his fists on an old rag, your blood coating his knuckles. He faced a woman to your left, who sat with one bent knee up on a bench. Her back leaning against the wall adjacent to you, a smug grin on her face.

You rotated your wrists which were bound behind you, the thick rope digging into your skin. Your ankles were bound too, tied to the legs of the wooden chair you sat on.

“You’re going to tell us what we want sweetie, its just a matter of how beat up that pretty face is going to be before you tell us.” The woman commented, as she played with her fingernails, pushing the cuticles back. If she was trying to look disinterested, she was doing a great job. But you were ready for this. You trained for this. You knew what was coming, and if it meant keeping your friends, the pack, safe, then you would gladly take whatever they threw at you.

The mans fist connected with your jaw once more, snapping you out of your daze. The room began to spin around you, and your vision blurred. Trying to recenter yourself you pulled at your wrists, the pain of the rope grinding into your skin giving you something to focus on.

“Alright careful there, big guy, we need her conscious if we’re going to get that information.” The woman stood from her seat, striding slowly over to you, before bending at the waist in front of you. She reached out to grab your face, but as soon as her fingers made contact with your skin you pulled away. A stern look, on your face made the woman let out a small laugh.

“You’re a tough one aren’t you.” She turned her head, almost admiring your battered body before her. “Too bad that doesn’t mean shit around here.” Grabbing your hair, she yanked your head back, exposing your neck to the room. Moving to stand behind you she held out her other hand, gesturing towards the man in front of you. Without a word exchanged, the man grabbed a knife from a nearby table, its blade glinting in the moonlight the small window above you allowed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea who you are dealing with do you?” The woman whispered in your ear, her grip on your hair only tightening as she neared the knife to your throat. You felt the cold edge, lightly cross your neck, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough for you to avoid swallowing.

Taking a deep breath in you closed your eyes. Grounding yourself was apart of your training, something that was drilled into you from the beginning. Breathing in again, you picked up on the different smells the room produced, sweat from the man in front of you, poorly masked by his cheap cologne. The sweet smell of the woman’s hair from behind, her locks dangling beside your face. The overwhelming metallic smell of blood being the most potent. You changed your focus to your heartbeat. Feeling it pounding against your chest begging to be released you pictured your heart slowing, its contractions reducing with every breath you took. Steadying your breathing was next. Cautious of the blade still connected to your neck you breathed in through your nose, holding in for a few seconds before releasing softly through your mouth. Repeating those steps, you were able to regain some stability. You were still in the same crappy scenario but at least now you were calmer. A panicking person is an interrogators wet dream. A calm person, their nightmare.

Sensing your self-control increase, the woman let go of your hair, moving the knife from your neck to the table beside the man. Standing before you once more, she knelt in front of you, keeping one knee up for balance, she waited for your eyes to open once more. Regaining the control, you almost lost, you felt strong enough to open your eyes once more. Staring at you the woman barely moved, she was searching your eyes for something, her expression a mixture of shock and impressed.

“You’re not afraid.” Her words barely above a whisper. Your only response was a return glare. A small smile creeping on to the face of your kidnapper. “They trained you well.”

Standing, she turned to the man behind her, whispering something in his ear before turning back to face you, her arms crossed against her chest. The man dropped the rag he was still holding and left the room, the sound of the door locking behind him.

“Let’s cut the bullshit honey. You have information I need. And I know I’m not going to break you, not by torturing you anyways. So, let’s try something else, shall we?” The woman began to pace back and forth in front of you, the small room only allowing her a few steps before being forced to turn around again. Your eyes followed her, left and right, before she stopped in front of you once more, still facing forward.

Taking in a sharp breath, she spoke. “How’s your sister doing?” She turned to face you. Refusing to let her know she was finally making some progress with you, you remained staring at her. Resuming her pacing she continued speaking.

“She’s what 5 now? Gosh so young. But you know what they say right? They grow up so fast.” Your eyes tracked the woman, more intently than before. This woman knew your family. Something that was always off limits when the pack was involved. Your attempts at shielding them from the supernatural had been successful, keeping that part of your life private even from Derek. And here this woman stood, threatening them. Threating to take away your motivation to make the world safer. Unfazed by your lack of reaction the woman carried on.

“Soon enough she’ll be going to high school, making friends, maybe even realising who her sister really is.” She stopped before you once more, bending at the waist she placed her hands on the arms of the chair you were bound to. “You didn’t think you could protect them, forever did you?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. No amount of calm breathing could ground you now. “Aw babe.” Her hand raised to your cheek, ready to wipe away the falling tear. You only pulled away from her once more, hating the way her skin on yours felt. “Don’t tell me I hit a nerve, did I? Sucks doesn’t it. Well, there is one way of ensuring your little family stay naïve to the world around them.” She stood tall once more, her voice now deeper, more sinister than before. “Tell me what I want to know.”

You had no choice, right? She threatened your family, your sister. You protected them from so long, only for you to be the reason they are in danger. Looking down at your lap, tears hit your thighs unable to control them you simply let them fall. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at the woman before you, a smirk present on her face which made it so much harder to say what you were about to. But the images of your sister raced through your mind. The way her hair shone in the autumn sun, the way her smile reached her eyes when she was really, truly happy, the way she greeted you after school every day by running down the front path directly into your arms. That was the highlight of your day, finishing school and-

Wait

You never responded to Stiles.

You never texted him back, and the kidnappers were kind enough to bring your phone into the room with you – hoping to get some information.

Your eyes moved to the door behind the woman, a loud crash followed by a heavy grunt sounded from behind the entranceway. The woman whipped her head around, only to be met by silence. She slowly approached the doorway.

“Adrian…?”

Silence

The woman turned back to you, unsure of herself. You only had a small smirk as a response. Before she could question you, the door busted open, barely remaining on its hinges, a rush of dust filled the room. Watching ahead as the dust clouds engulfed the woman, you heard a deafening roar followed by a petrified scream. Small thuds followed, as the dust reached your eyes you began coughing, the sudden pain in your ribs swiftly returning.

Two hands were placed on your shoulders, looking up you were met by two green eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” A worried Derek scanned your face, concern riddled him as he saw the multiple cuts and bruising before him. You could only nod, the dust denying you the ability to speak.

Moving behind you, he effortlessly cut the ties that bound your hands, then your legs. Using the arms of the chair to stable yourself, you attempted to stand, wincing when the pain became too much. Derek moved to your side, wrapping your arm over his shoulder. Carefully placing his arm around you, resting his hand on your hip he accepted most of your weight, attempting to make standing and walking easier. As you took a few steps forward, the dust cleared from your eyes and you were able to regain focus. Looking forward you saw the woman who threatened you, her back against the same wall the door was, her skin now covered in blood, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. Scott stood before her, looking down at the defeated woman, his eyes still red and his claws still present.

Clearing your throat, you stopped walking, causing Derek to pause and look over to you. You peered down at the woman, no longer in a position of power, she looked smaller, more gaunt than before. Her eyes showed she was petrified, providing some comfort to you after what she did.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” a whisper of a smirk present on your lips.

Proceeding to step forward through the doorway you were met by a panting Stiles, his arms stretched out in front of him, you couldn’t tell him to stop before his body connected with yours. You inhaled sharply, grimacing as pain rang throughout your body.

Derek used his free hand to grab Stiles by the shoulder, pulling him away from you, a small growl forming in his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry of course you’re hurt shit sorry.” The boy stumbled over his words, his eyes finally taking in the battered sight before him. He moved to the side of you not occupied by Derek, his help was welcomed by you, suddenly feeling lightheaded from standing.

The three of you began walking forward towards the exit of the building.

“Is now a good time to tell Derek, you think he has no balls?” Stiles piped up earning a death glare from Derek. “No? Okay we can come back to that.” You used whatever energy you had left to shake your head.

[thr-333]

Just Another Class Trip :)

Part 1

No, no ignore the smily face i assure you it means nothing foreboding, nothing foreboding at all.

Next >

---------

“It’s suspicious,” Marinette glares as they leave customs.

“What would that be, Mari?” Chloe yawns, not bothering to dedicate her limited remaining brain power apparently.

“Lila,” She whispers back, “She’s been so quiet all the way here,”

“What about how she weaseled her way into first class?” Chloe yawns again, sleep mask resting on her head.

“Or tried to steal your bag,” Kagami says with venom, her having saved Marinette from that disaster.

“Accused you of giving her the wrong flight time,” Adrien adds, somehow being full awake even after their long flight.

“Slipped metal into your pocket so security would go off,” Chloe downright glares at Adrien, but would never admit to the bags under her eyes.

“Came by and woke you up every time you fell asleep,” Kagami looks at her pointedly, shadows under her eyes being her only give away.

“Too quite,” Marinette whispers, the list going largely ignored as they approach the security scan.

“Just relax Mari,”  Adrien pats her shoulder, not enough to break her concentration, “Lila will be so distracted by being in Gotham she won't have time for you,”

Adrien was wrong.

Of course he was wrong.

This is Lila they're talking about.

“Oh Marinette!” Lila all but yells as Marinette is placing her bag in a tray, “I’m so glad you didn’t go through with it,”

Marinette cringes, the security guards all looking her way as Lila dances off. She just sighs as she is escorted away by the airport security, to the protest of her friends and not much else.

“No sir I am not holding any firearms or weapons,” Marinette answers as monotone as possible, the security guard didn’t deserve her ire not matter how tiresome this was getting.

“We interview the source,” Oh no “Apparently you were discussing terrorist activities,”

“I was not sir, Lila must be mistaken,” Yep big mistake, I’m sure that's all it is , “I’m simply here for a class trip,”

“You’re wearing a bulletproof vest,”

Yeah probably should have left that one at home

“My parents are protective, they know how dangerous Gotham can be,” They were not fans of the horror stories Aunt Selina used to tell her from this city, “They insisted I have it as protection,”

While they most certainly wanted her to be safe the vest was more her idea. It was also more for enabling trouble than avoiding it. At least she was trying to be safe about secret crime fighting.

“Makes sense,” He sighs from across the table, checking through some paperwork, “You’re seventeen, here on a class trip right?”

“Yes sir,”

“Well if you’re here on a Wayne funded trip they probably did and extensive background check,” He pauses for a minute looking deep in thought, “Alright then, you can go,”

That seems kind of lax

“Are you sure?”

“We literally have super villains walking through here every other day,” True that, “You’re holding no weapons and have been endorsed by the Wayne's that's better than most people that have been in here,”

“Well if you’re sure,” Marinette stands awkwardly walking to the door as he waves her off, “Is there anything I need to sign, or…”

“Unless I want to fill out extra paperwork, no,” He seems so tired, Marinette wished she could get back at Lila for making his job harder.

“Have a good day then!” She smiles brightly, getting a small one in return.

She leaves, the security guards handing back her bag, fortunately not mentioning the miracle box or her Kwamis. She smiles brightly, even with Lila trying to ruin her trip she could still enjoy her time here in Gotham- and her phone buzzes with an Akuma alert.

With a sigh, Marinette ducks into the nearest bathroom, locking a stall behind her.

“Kaalki,” The Kwami zips out of her bag, “Tikki, Combine,”

With a flash of light followed by another she appears in Paris dropping Kaalki’s transformation.

She looks over the city, some Akuma attacking the Eiffel tower. At least they didn't seem to be the brainwashing type, she didn’t have Chat Noir there to help with crowd control.

With a flip she jumps, planning to kick the Akuma on the way down. They dodge and she lands in front of them instead.

“Well, well if it isn’t the bug,” The Akuma, in a horrible patch work costume mocks, a purple mask appearing over their face, “Hand over your miraculous!”

How about you come and make me Hawkmoth? I promise to stick that cane up your ass

Oh how she wishes she could say just that, but it wouldn't be very Ladybug of her. Why did the younger her have to have a stick up her butt?

“Not today Hawkmoth,” She says instead, making sure to put the practiced amount of enthusiasm into it, “Or any other day for that matter,”

“How are you going to save Paris without your little kitty cat?”

How are you going to beat me with that terrible fashion sense

Besides Chat Noir deserved a break. At least she hoped he was taking a break, he couldn’t tell because of secret identity reasons. It wasn't like she had any right to stop him, she was having a vacation in Gotham right now, and she was out all the time for work. She could manage without Chat for a while, he deserved that much.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect the people of Paris,” Ladybug remembers to answer the question.

“Hand over your miraculous now!” The Akuma lunges at her

I should have chosen a different persona

She dodges the beam of light that can’t mean anything good. Jumping back to get some distance.

Chat Noir had the right idea

She bites back the cutting remark on the tip of her tongue. Instead throw out her yo to wrap around their arm. The Akuma pulls it forward, sending her through the air. She leans into it swinging around to get a better vantage point, studying the monologuing Akuma below.

Maybe I can for Starling

She has created Starling as a vigilante identity to use in Gotham, if the class was ever in trouble. No not if, when . With a sigh she summons her lucky charm getting a table tennis paddle.

Although I’m only meant to use that identity as a disguise to protect the class

The only thing that stood out was the Akuma's hand, she'd have to gather more information before striking.

Maybe Starling can have a word or two with Lila, that could be fun

She drops down in front of the Akuma. They seemed to like monologuing, maybe all she had to do was probe a little bit.

“Why would you want to side with Hawkmoth?”

“This is my family's greatest heirloom it has been passed from generation to generation for centuries, some fool broke it and I was crushed having disappointed all my ancestors!” The Akuma holds up a broach type jewel, “But Hawkmoth- Hawkmoth brought it back and now my greatest and dearest treasure will forever be-”

Ladybug smacks it to the ground, crushing it underfoot.

The Akuma looks at her shocked, letting out a long drawn out gasp. Marinette does not meet their eye as she catches the Akuma. She throws the paddle she used to smack it out of their hand into the air to cast the cure.

I must be really jet lagged, I’m usually at least a little more creative than that, but it worked

She pretends not to see the reporters coming in for interviews, seeing the victim and their broach in one piece. She makes a speedy exit, needing to transport back to Gotham before the class get too ancy.

“I’m sorry the rented bus left a long time ago,” The attendant informed her, looking sorry for the dishevelled teen.

Marinette groaned, so much for running around the airport for thirty minutes with a dead phone. Thanking the attendant she sulks off to collect her bag instead, she’d have to figure another way to the hotel.

She spends another hour hunting down her bag. Chasing after leads of people who might have mistook it. Checking again with Airport security, who again pulled her aside for having a suspicious missing bag. Luckily the security guard before defended her, she brought him a coffee and two for herself.

“Maybe someone will return it?” Tikki whispers, her and Kaalki hidden in the folds of her scarf.

“It’s fine Tikki,” Marinette sighs, halfway through her first cup in under a minute, “I have replicas of all of them anyway, I’ll just grab some samples from the MDC fashion show,”

She’d have to stop by later, the outfits should have been transported last week along with most of her recent catalogue. The only problem was all the other necessities she lost. But that wasn’t a problem, she carried the miracle box in her backpack and that's all that really matters.

“And some of my… special outfits when we go back home,”

She had altered her current outfit to transform into her vigilante disguise. Her scarf pulled up and could be turned inside out into a mask. Her skirt could be transformed into a cape and hood combo. A zip down the middle of the skirt to split it for the cape and a zip up hood that lay flat along her skirt. She simply turned it inside out and wore it around her shoulders. Combined with a bullet proof vest it wasn't half bad, her belt full of weapons could always be hid under her skirt which was a big plus.

She sighs waiting for a taxi in the cold Gotham air, hating it more than most. Although she supposed superhuman strength was a fair exchange for extra cold fingers. Marinette fought to stay awake, she had also been holding Kaalki for so long she was starting to develop the ability to sleep standing up and would doze off randomly. Certainly helpful at times, but not right now.

“Hello,” Marinette is startled out of her drowsiness.

She looks at the hesitant young man before her, looking just as tired as she is.

“Hello?”

“Is something the matter?” Something sparks at the back of her mind, a feeling she often gets from Chloe whenever she is helpful.

Do I look that bad?

“Just a mix up with transportation,” She smiles, he clearly knows it’s fake.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No I’m-” She sighs, what could go wrong getting in the car of a random person in Gotham, “Yes, I do thank you,”

“Over here, I’m Tim by the way” He stifles a yawn, leading her towards a limousine, the door being opened by a driver.

“Marinette, here,” She hands over the extra coffee, “You look like you need it just as much as me,”

Tim looks at her like a god sent, taking the coffee as they reach the limo.

“Good call Alfred,” Tim whispers to the driver, slipping into the car.

“Hello miss, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” She shakes his hand, something stronger fires at the back of her mind, a true holder perhaps? But Chloe was a true holder right?

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She smiles, trying to assess what miraculous would suit him.

“Best get inside Miss Dupain-Cheng,” She climbs inside at Alfred's behest, “Gotham is awfully cold for a Lady,”

She gets the feeling that is not chivalry.

“Where to Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asks, already in the driver's seat.

“Wayne hotel please,” She pulls her backpack onto her lap, still regarding Alfred suspiciously.

“Traveling alone?” Tim asks absentmindedly, still nursing his coffee cup.

“I’m here with my class, they left without-” No that's no good , “I got held up they went ahead,”

“Class… staying at the Wayne hotel…” Tim mumbles to himself.

“I believe what Master Tim is trying to ask is if you are part of the Martha Wayne foundation trip,” Alfred informs from the front seat.

“Yeah that,” Tim takes another scalding gulp of coffee.

“Yes I sent in the submission, I’m still surprised we got it,” Marinette had been thrilled at a trip to Gotham, it is where her Aunt Selina lives after all.

“You seem very responsibility Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Alfred complements, “Almost as if you could shoulder the weight of Paris,”

“I didn’t say where I was from,” Marinette tenses getting more than a little unsettled, he seemed to know something more.

“Not to worry, I have close connections with the Wayne's and was aware this years class was from Paris is all,”

“I see,” Marinette nods along, the possible meaning behind the comment still being concerning.

“We forgot your bags!!!” Tim suddenly yells, jumping up and making Marinette jump, they both curse in sync as they spill coffee on themselves.

“It’s alright!” luckily the coffee landed on her black tights, so no noticeable stains, “My bags were stolen,”

“Oh…” Tim relaxes back, “Wait… that's not alright at all!”

“It’s fine, I already have a plan to get some spare clothes and I just need to run to the store,”

“Right… to the Wayne hotel was it?” Marinette nods and Tim starts tapping away at his phone.

She fishes out some wet wipes from her bag, passing them to Tim, who looks confused until she points out the growing coffee stain. With a smile and a few more taps at the phone he takes them off her.

“Left behind and bags stolen, doesn't sound like your Lucky day,” Alfred presses, and he needs to stop, it could be chance, surely its just chance.

“I guess not,”

You don’t know the half of it.

“Well I hope the rest of your day is much better,” Tim bids as they pull up to the hotel.

“Thank you, and thank you so much for the ride,” Alfred opens the door for her to get out.

“Not a problem,” She waves them off, watching them disappear down the street.

They’re nice, probably wont ever get to see them again, thats a shame

“Dick! Holy fuck!” Tim kicks down the door of his brothers room, “I just met the nicest girl who's had the shittest day on earth,”

“First of all welcome back, how was your trip?” Dick greets hanging from the ceiling as Tim takes his desk chair, “Second, what are you talking about?”

“Met a girl at the Airport who didn’t have a ride, she gave me coffee,”

“That's enough to buy your loyalty,” Dick grins, Tim flips him off.

“Listen, she's part of that Martha Wayne Foundation trip and her class left her at the Airport!”

“What?!” Dick drops from the ceiling onto his bed, “Thats so dangerous, especially in Gotham,”

“Right?! She even had her luggage stolen!” Tim pushes the chair over to Dick, “And she was still so nice, even after an eight hour flight!”

“You said she was part of the Wayne foundation trip?” Dick asks, getting a nod from Tim, “Yeah, we are definitely seeing her again,”

[whitexwingedxdoves]

Foxtails and Rabbit trails | Part 2

A/N: This is part 2 to my collab with @starlessea​ i’ve had such a fun time working on this with Yaz and I hope you all love it as much as we do   🐰 Read Part One Here  Summary:  Daryl Dixon was a good hunter, but there were still some things that he struggled to find. Such as the patience to deal with you. You wore a rabbit’s foot keyring, but Daryl thought you were the furthest thing from lucky. After all, you ended up stuck with him, too.

-  Lying back on the grass, staring up at the cloudless sky, you thought that the world had never looked so pretty. 

The foxtails tickled your cheeks, and you could feel the fresh dew on the leaves as they gathered up beneath your fingers. You tried to focus on their texture, and how you could hear them crunch brittley before they scattered to the ground like autumn confetti.  

You really did try to focus on the good.

But the pain was blinding. 

“Hol’ still, ‘m gonna get ya outta there,” Daryl whispered, but you picked up on the way his voice stuttered over the words.

He got to work on disabling the trap, every little movement translating into a jolt of searing pain which made you cry out for him to stop. Though, the look in his eyes was no better. Even through your tears, you could understand that this was hurting him just as much as it hurt you - maybe even more.

If only you hadn’t been so fucking careless.

You reached out your hand for your satchel, fumbling in the grass until your fingertips brushed up against the soft fur of your rabbit’s foot. It was supposed to be lucky.

What a joke, you laughed, and grit your teeth through the pain.

Daryl disarmed the trap, making you whimper hoarsely once more as the metal jaws dislodged from your ankle. Your knuckles had turned white over that rabbit’s foot - almost matching its snowy pelt.

The man retrieved the rag from his back pocket - that same one you’d joked about not so long ago - and used it to bind your leg to stop the bleeding. 

Maybe that ratty cloth was handy, after all.

You tried to look down to catch a glimpse of the injury, and assess the damage. Except, Daryl didn’t let you.

“Eyes on me,” he instructed, gesturing to himself with his free hand.

You nodded, before letting your head fall back onto the damp grass. You glanced off to the side, noticing the mounds of dirt that crumbled near you.

“Hey, Daryl,” you murmured, “look at all of the burrows.”

The man didn’t look up from what he was doing - tending to you - but he still nodded his head anyway.

“Yeah,” he replied, tightening the makeshift bandage, “see if ya can spot any rabbits.”

And with that, Daryl carried you back to Alexandria - quickly and carefully, looking down at his feet the entire time.

Once you reached the infirmary, the man placed you on one of the beds whilst Denise got to work. She tried her hardest to be gentle with you, but even the softest touch made your skin crawl. Painkillers were given - only dulling the sensation ever so slightly - but they seemed to be enough for the doctor to stitch up your wounds, and replace Daryl’s old red rag with a clean bandage.

“I thought you hunters were supposed to be mindful of your surroundings,” Denise quipped, sending one of her sneaky looks your way as she finished her work. 

You rolled her eyes and shuffled ever so slightly in the bed, trying to get a glimpse.

“Yeah well, it was pretty well hidden,” you hit back. 

Daryl cleared his throat from the corner of the room; he’d been so quiet that you almost forgot he was there.

“Nah, ya got too distracted by the damn rabbits,” he grumbled.

More like too distracted by damn Daryl Dixon.

A glare was exchanged between you and the archer, but your smile got wider the longer you stared.

“Either way, it got you pretty good. You need to stay off that leg.” 

With a stern tone, Denise broke your gaze.

You shook your head. “That doesn’t work for me,” you argued, “I’ve got people to feed!” 

In response, you tried to shuffle off the bed - but a searing pain clambered up your leg and stunted your movements.

“I’m sure Daryl wouldn’t mind taking over for a while. Just until you’re better,” Denise reassured you.

The young doctor peered over her glasses at the archer, only for him to reply with a grunt.

“Now rest,” she told you, pressing your shoulder back down into the mattress. “Doctor’s orders!” 

That first night at the clinic had been quiet - far too quiet. It made you mull over your mistake until it was old in your mind, and heavy on your conscience. 

That is, until Daryl returned to bring you dandelions.

Denise had insisted that you stay where she could keep an eye on you, until the morning at least. But, you missed the comforts of your own room - where it was familiar. The walls of the infirmary were too white and barren, as opposed to your house which was decorated with pressed flowers and furs and much too many books. 

Your foot twitched occasionally, and every time you closed your eyes you could hear the snapping of those metal jaws as they clamped shut.

Sleep would probably elude you tonight.

Your nerves were made even worse when you were startled by knuckles rapping on the window. Reaching for the lamp, you illuminated the figure behind the glass - who also seemed spooked at having been caught.

Daryl stood there, motioning for you to open the latch on the window. 

You did, and the man lifted the pane, letting in the cool night’s breeze. 

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” you whispered, peering around the infirmary.

Daryl scowled, and muttered something below his breath that you couldn’t quite make out. The lampshade cast long shadows on his face, and you could only see the whites of his eyes poking out from between the strands of hair hanging over them.

“I ain’t,” he rasped back, gesturing to where he stood. “Technically.”

You raised an eyebrow at the man, not expecting that dry humour to come from him. He shook you off, and continued.

“Not stoppin’ long,” he dismissed, lifting up his backpack and fumbling around in it. “Went back out there an’ couldn’t see no more traps.” 

He smirked - faint and dim in the artificial light. But you still caught it.

“Ya must’ve sprung the only fuckin’ one.”

You laughed a little too loudly.

“Just my luck,” you shot back.

Daryl pulled something out from his bag - something you immediately recognised. It was a pelt blanket of soft, tawny fur. You’d made it yourself.

“Olivia tol’ me to give ya this,” he explained, feeding the material through the open window until you could reach it. “She went to get it from yer room.”

The feeling between your fingers instantly brought you comfort, and you ran the blanket along your cheek absentmindedly. 

Before you could reply, Daryl fished something else out from the rucksack and placed it on the windowsill. 

It was a glass bottle of dandelions.

It was a soda bottle, to be exact - probably snuck out of the pantry when no one was looking. You also recognised the flowers; you’d seen them out hunting once and noted just how much you liked the colour.

They looked like sunshine.

“Those from Olivia, too?” you whispered, gently stroking over the petals with your fingertips.

Daryl zipped up his bag and shook his head.

“Nah,” he mumbled, gesturing for you to close the window behind him. “These are from me.”

That was when you realised that perhaps Daryl Dixon wasn’t such a hard ass after all.

Though, your favourite memory from back then had to be the time he brought you bluebells. You’d practically chewed his ear off on one of your earlier trips, telling him all about how pretty they were - but you never thought he was listening.

You’d been sitting in your front room, pressing the previous bunch of flowers between one of your bigger books, when Daryl entered your home that day. Denise still hadn’t given you the all clear to go back out and hunt, and your movements were still pretty limited.

Hence, the constant appearances by the other hunter.

At this point, it had just become a part of the routine. Daryl would visit the house, walk straight to the empty vase on your bedside, and fill it with a new set of flowers. 

Though, today was a little different. 

Usually, he’d drop off some of the meat he’d managed to catch, and then leave. But, today he took a seat on the sofa opposite yours and fumbled with a tangled up cord.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you giggled, sitting further back into your cushion.

“Been trying to fix ya stupid traps out there. Can’t get the knot right,” he mumbled, his patience wearing as thin as that rope in his hands. 

You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at his words. 

The irony tasted so sweet. 

Daryl shot you a look which instantly made you cover your mouth. “Come here, I’ll help you,” you managed to say, whilst beckoning him over.

He did as instructed, but not without grumbling.

You took the cord from his hands and effortlessly untangled it. Daryl muttered something under his breath - but instead of prying, you took the victory and proceeded with your demonstration.

“Loop the rope around your hand like this and tie it.” 

Before finishing the action, you handed it over to Daryl so that he could do it by himself. 

“Then you fold the loop over to make ears, just like a rabbit!” you announced proudly, leaning over the man to show him exactly how it should look.

He scoffed. “What is it with you and the damn rabbits?” 

You rolled your eyes at the archer, and nudged him in the side for not paying attention - to which he carried on following your directions. 

“Then you thread the rope through,” you instructed, your hand hovering over his as you watched for any mistakes.

You hadn’t realised how close you were to him until he had finished the knot. You pulled away, and cleared your throat before refocusing on the cord - not daring to dwell on the tension.

“Then you add this end to the spring and leave the other end hanging.”

Daryl nodded silently, inspecting your work like he was trying to recreate it in his mind.

“Thanks,” he eventually whispered, chewing at the corner of his lip.

It didn’t take the man long to spring to his feet and murmur a goodbye before leaving. 

Thinking back on it, you could only laugh at how naive you both had been. 

Those bluebells were the last flowers ever left in that glass vase, but they hadn’t been the last you’d seen during your time at Alexandria. To this day, you still had an old, leather-bound book tucked away somewhere on a shelf - containing all of those pressed flowers with their dried up petals and stems. But, they weren’t the most memorable.

No. The ones you could remember the best, despite not having them laid flat atop a page, were the foxtail lilies.

“You good?” the man asked, guiding you through the long grass.

You followed him slowly, weaving through the wildflowers - being careful not to trod on them. 

Your leg had mostly healed, but your confidence still hadn’t made a full recovery. It was your first time hunting since the accident, and you couldn’t help but keep your eyes locked on your feet the entire time - despite Daryl having reassured you that he’d checked the area three times over.

“Yeah, just feels weird,” you replied, rolling your ankle. “But it’s good to be out again, thanks for taking over for me.”

Despite being out of commission for a few weeks, the people of Alexandria definitely hadn’t starved - that’s for damn sure.

Daryl shook his head, and continued to step through the foxtail lilies. He was leading you back to that new area - to explore it properly this time.

“Nah, ain’t nothin’,” he shrugged, not even sparing you a backwards glance.

You followed his trail, where his boots had flattened the grass and made it easier for you to navigate.

You sighed. “Can’t just say ‘you’re welcome’, can you?”

Something sprung in the distance, and you immediately flinched. It took you a few seconds to figure it out - but you soon realised that you recognised that sound.

You turned to the other hunter, only to find that he was already looking at you.

“Daryl Dixon,” you breathed, a smile already wide on your face. “Did you set a twitch-up snare?”

The man shook his head, before pointing into the distance - at the dozens of burrows you hadn’t gotten the chance to show him that day.

“Not jus’ one,” he announced, as you glanced around the field, counting the traps.

No wonder Alexandria hadn’t gone hungry.

Another one sprung, and made you jump. You couldn’t help it, you slapped Daryl over the back and laughed too loudly - probably making the remaining rabbits scurry back into their burrows.

“Be still my beating heart!” you joked. “I knew you’d come around.”

The lilies tickled your legs as they blew in the breeze, and made you laugh even more. But for once, the man didn’t scold you for scaring away the game.

“Yer welcome,” he replied, and smirked straight back.

Daryl thought of that memory, as he and Judith made their way through the darkened forest, back to the house. 

You had definitely changed him since then - in more ways than how he set up his traps.

Daryl hung behind the young girl, watching her feet as she navigated the thick overgrowth, and stepped over tree roots - her fox tail charm swinging from her jeans. 

It had been his, once. He’d caught that red fox himself in the dead of winter, and kept the brush just like you’d told him to do. Though, Judith Grimes had taken a liking to it as a baby - always reaching for the soft fur with her small hands, and sneezing when Daryl used it to tickle her nose.

It was hers now; it had been since that day.

As if feeling his stare, Judith turned back and called out to Daryl for him to hurry up - unless he wanted dinner to be cold. He let out a grunt and picked up the pace.

He was too damn old for this.

The two of them returned to the cabin before the sun had set, but Daryl could already smell the scent of cooked meat from the pathway, a few minutes back. The lights were on inside, flickering warmly behind the glass windows - as though calling the both of them home.

Judith reached the door first, and rapped on the wood, tapping out their signature knock. As soon as it creaked open, the young girl burst through - nearly knocking you over as she trudged through the house with a wide smile and muddy boots.

 Then, you disappeared behind the frame after her - yelling something about how animals were meant to be on a plate, and not seated at the dinner table.

Daryl couldn’t help but laugh at that one; you always did have a good sense of humour.

But for that reason, the hunter made sure to wash his hands as soon as he stepped through the door - before even attempting to put them on you, and pull you in close.

But once he did, you beckoned him over.

Daryl felt the warmth of your skin as you pressed your forehead to his.

“‘M home,” he murmured, offering out the bunch of wildflowers he’d picked for you on the way back.

They were slightly crushed from his grip - the stalks bent and the petals flaking off - but you still smiled at him in such a way that it made his breath catch.

Yeah, he thought, you hadn’t changed one bit.

“My favourites,” you replied, and placed those foxtails in fresh water at the centre of the dinner table.

-

tags:  @browneyes528​ @phoenixblack89​ @srhxpci​ @jodiereedus22​ @witch-of-letters​ @deadthewalking​

[duskyskz]

50/50 - Chapter 1

Warnings - Toxic relationship, verbal/physical assault (NOT with main pairing), eventual smut but very very slow burn, boxer minho, trust issues reader, development on dom/sub dynamics, sex education to a degreedetailed tags to come with individual chapters.

After the final straw in your patience and self confidence leads you to moving in with your neighbour, you spend months unlearning bad habits and opening doors you shut yourself out from in your last relationship.

Word count: 5.5k

Minho watched as you picked up the corn cob, placing it gingerly in the basket on your arm, moving onto asparagus sprouts. How own hands are empty, not yet having decided on the groceries he craves that week. Instead he watches, from the irritated skin on your wrist to the focus of your eyes as you inspect potato bags in the next stall over. He’s just a neighbour from the same apartment complex, he’s seen you a handful of times at most before the current week yet since he started noticing your steps he can’t seem to stop.

You breathe out heavily, adjusting the basket on your forearm and he stills, frowning when you readjust the woven handle once more along your arm. There’s a coloured faintness there, and traces of fingerprints that make his stomach twist inside out uneasily. He knows your name, as of a few days ago. It looks like it aches. It’s still an urgent boundary to cross, what he’s about to suggest.

“You could stay the night with me, if you want. If that’d be easier.” He’s only a step behind you, having followed you quietly down most of the farmers’ market now. The sunhat he recognises you from by now bounces among the sea of hagglers on a wednesday morning. “I know fights in relationships can be rough, so if you need a place to crash for the night, my couch is free.”

You wish you could tell him how much you cannot possibly do that, but Minho’s offer is so innocent and well-intended you don’t have the heart to outright decline. “Thank you, Minho, but we’re fine. I’ll be alright.”

He doesn’t need to read into your smile to understand the rejection, trying not to let it phase him at the implication you’d be going home again that night. He knew better than to ask if you needed help carrying your bags after the first time he’d offered and your knuckles turned white.

“Alright. But you know my flat number if, right? If something happens.”

“If something happens.” You promise, and leave him with a nagging sense of discomfort as your dress fades into the morning crowds.

***

You don’t think of doing it as you enter the concrete building block and pass the elevator to the staircase. It would be too inappropriate, too out of the question to even consider. A night at another person’s house? At another man’s house, even more so! No way would you consider breaking a rule like that. You couldn’t step out of line like that. Yet as you passed the third floor, one you now knew held the possibility of the unexplored, you hesitated for a moment.

No, surely it wouldn’t be worth the scolding you’d get after. Would you even be able to sit still for an hour, without twitching? The handprint shaped bruise on your wrist still aches dully with the weight of the food basket as you open the door to your shared apartment two floors higher. You no longer notice the relief that sags your shoulders when you realise the house is empty apart from your own presence. You take in the respite of silence while unpacking the vegetables, trimming the corn cob for stir fry later in the evening. It's followed by bamboo shoots and chicken breast, which you’ve just about got simmering when the front door clicks open.

You hear him before you see him, taking as long as you can to plate the food before turning to face the man you shared a home with. He doesn’t return it, eyes glossing over you to inspect the dinner plate you slide before him.

“You know I prefer rice noodles.” He tuts out, frowning. His feet come up to rest on the other chair, but you weren’t going to sit at the table anyway, opting to linger by the counter. “And beef, your chicken sucks.”

He chews loudly, groaning as if to make sure you’re aware of your culinary inadequacy, but his face never lifts from the plate. He wasn’t wrong, really. Your cooking was barely edible enough to provide nutrition and you didn’t know how to make it better.

He keeps talking still, even as his pointer finger comes in contact with your forehead to accentuate his point with a harsh poke that makes you lean backwards against the counter top.

You don’t apologize. It’s better to not make any noise, you’ve come to learn, keeping your head toward the floor and body still and you’re almost impressed with yourself when the plate is thrown into the sink by you with a piercing clatter, not caring if the porcelain splits

The food is half eaten, but you don’t comment on the waste either. You’ll eat alone later, but the mess makes your exhaustion rear its head again when you think of cleaning it.

You know it’s no longer love that stops your words in your throat. The fluttering in your heart froze up into apprehension first, then fear and indifference. The physical alterations hurt, but they were only skin deep. They only lasted a few days, and once the ache faded you wondered if you felt the pain at all. The verbal attacks, that made your head hurt more. But you stopped talking back, because then they stopped faster.

The door slams again, rattling the walls loud enough to make a point of your boyfriend’s absence and shining light on all your failures as a partner. He wouldn’t be back tonight, or maybe even the night after that. You let your knees turn to cotton, slumping to cold kitchen tile. You don’t clean up the noodles in the sink. You’re not hungry enough to eat your own portion.

In a burst of conflicting emotion, you feel yourself stand and head to your bedroom. Maybe it’s the tiredness that made a home in your bones, maybe it’s the stress rattling them every time you’re in his presence, watching your step and calculating his every action before it happens. Maybe it’s the lack of all of that when you push your partner from your mind and let your heart betray you for a second to think of softer brown eyes instead, living in the flat two floors below you. It’s some twisted amalgamation of it all, probably, that makes you pluck your mascara from the bathroom, alongside a toothbrush and (on second thought, in case of emergencies) minimal changes of clothing into your backpack. You haven’t had use for it in a few months, not having gone further than the main streets of your own town in that time. It still fits enough for a weekend trip, and the weight of it hangs on you heavier than the clothing you packed would allow.

Would you really do it?

Minho could be mad at you for changing your mind, and maybe you couldn’t take that. You’ve developed a defence mechanism for one person, but could you for another so quickly? If his voice raised at you, you’re sure you’d cry on the spot like you used to the first few times in this house, too. But maybe you wouldn’t have to, maybe he wouldn’t even be home after you’d rejected his offer. He had no reason to be home, so you’re just going to check and confirm there really is no chance and no hope of you escaping this hellhole, that’s it. Your hopes would be rightfully crushed and you’d return with your tail between your legs, clean up after dinner, and head to bed like the fool you are.

Locking the door after you, as your housemate didn’t bother to, you trudge down two flights of stairs to the last door down the corridor, marked with a cat-paw print welcome mat and burgundy painted door. You knock twice with shaky fingers, and the sound is so light you wonder if he’d have heard you even if he was home at this late hour.

“Jisung, I said not tonight!” There came a shuffling from the other side of the door, and you were seized with fear of facing the other possibility - that Minho was no longer considering you’d come by, as you told him you wouldn’t, and he’s going to yell at you for ruining his night. The thoughts lurched forward at you as his footsteps grew louder, pounding in your head so loud your eyes blurred so instantly you couldn’t focus on the door opening and Minho’s silhouette against his low living room light.

“Y/n?” His response comes stalled too, letting a beat of silence pass between you as no words left you. He wasn’t shouting yet, so you took the chance to apologize as quickly as you could before the situation worsened. Your limits were thin tonight.

“I’m sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t come and that’s really stupid, I’m sorry.” Your thumb dug into the strap of your backpack at your feet. “It’s really late so I’m sorry if I woke you -”

“No, it’s okay.” Minho protests before you can word your final ‘sorry’, moving aside to reveal the rest of his hallway. “I wasn’t asleep yet. Come in.”

And that’s it. You expected more, to be honest. Some kind of questioning at least, scrutiny at your visual (and mental) state.

You don’t enter right away, thoughts wooshed out of your head. You don’t even think if he’d scold you for leaving the door open so long, but Minho just waits in the hallway, giving you space to cross the threshold of his home when you’re ready, watching as your expression blanks once the door closes behind you and he has to ask if you need help for you to take off your shoes and break out of the thought train. You hang your coat among his, after asking if he’s okay with that, and doing the same for your shoes. You hold your bag close, resting it on your lap as you sit down on your neighbors couch.

Minho looks the same as he did this morning, grey hoodie and equally nondescript jeans with a pale wash ending just below his ankles. He hangs around the hallway a few meters away from you, and you can tell he’s thinking about what to say before he voices his thoughts.

“Did something happen?” You hadn’t expected him to be so direct. You didn't consider this scenario beforehand, so you couldn’t answer instantly. “You said you’d come then. If something happened.”

“I’m not sure.” You decide to answer truthfully, though he may be unhappy with the vagueness of the statement. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened tonight, so…” You let the sentence trail off, but he knows the implication.

So I’m not sure why I came.

“That’s fine. Nothing has to happen for you to visit a friend.” Minho accepts your hesitance easily, and you’re instantly grateful for his keen senses. “It is late, so I’m not sure if you ate yet?” You shake your head. “I have some lunch leftovers I was going to heat up if that’s okay with you, though.”

Lee Minho was a glorious cook. Michelin level, you’d go so far to say, had you ever been to a Michelin star restaurant in your life, but you were convinced he’d qualify. Turns out his leftovers consisted of seared steak, grilled vegetables and an assortment of flavoured rice balls, which he served you with cucumber salad you saw him purchase at the market earlier that day. This was more elaborate than any meal you’d attempted to cook in your life, and you’d tell him so were you not so occupied devouring it. Minho didn’t think you noticed him glancing at you across the table, but the amazement in your eyes filled his heart entirely. He’s seen you look content, happy even on days he’d catch you by the vegetable stalls and spark conversation despite your brisk pace.

After he’d washed up, insisting you remain seated (which filled you with visible unease, to both his amusement and greater concern) you were forced to address the trickiest part of the night. You’ve had sleepovers before, but never with a boy. Never as an adult.

Stunning you for the second time that evening, Minho seemed to harbour no such fears.

“You can sleep in my room if you’d like, and I’ll move to the couch for tonight; but if you’re not comfortable with that, I’ll bring some blankets out for you into the living room.” The ease with which he approached the subject settled into your own head, and you nodded at his suggestions.

“I’d like to sleep here, please.” You pat the couch you’ve gravitated to after eating, quickly becoming the centerpoint of the apartment to you. Minho leaves for the few minutes it takes him to prepare a fresh duvet and pillow cover and you take the moment of isolation to break through the dam of thoughts clawing at your brain since arriving an hour ago. You weren’t sure if the time went by rapidly or dragged on. You only let yourself take in minimal information about the situation - taste of the food, the colour of his kitchen tile, the fabric of his clothing and softness of his living room rug. Small, manageable pieces of the greater dilemma you didn’t want to give attention to yet.

Midnight air mingles with your sigh as you lean back on your hands and tilt your head toward the window. Minho kept his curtains open for a glimmer of the nightlife. There wasn't much to see from the 3rd floor, but yellow light still flickers over rooftops and storefronts.Your musings are cut short when a mountain of bed covers drops beside you, delicately placed at the opposite end of the sofa. He must have switched off the other house lights on his way back, letting only the shy orange lamp illuminate his profile.

“The bathroom is on the left in the hallway, and my room is at the end of it, the last door to your right.” You note his directions in your head, nodding to show you’re listening. “Alright, I - I’ll let you sleep.”

“Goodnight, Minho. Thank you.”

He lingers by the doorway, balancing from one foot to another with an unfocused gaze. You don’t budge as he watches you, though he doesn’t seem to realise he’s staring at your feet, then your hands and face until your eyes meet halfway.

“I’m glad you came here. It’s good that you’re here.”

You don’t know how to reply to that statement, so you don’t say anything, and Minho leaves you with another soft goodnight and a flood of anxious thoughts.

***

Night fell rapidly, so much that when you switched off the remaining lights and laid to sleep. You were so stressed it made your head hurt, but the emotional toll made exhaustion greater, and you fell asleep within an instant. Minho’s duvets were plush, so big and fluffy you couldn’t see your own hand when you pressed down on the sheets. As you faded in and out of coherency throughout the night, a weight appeared by your feet. Too tired to be alarmed, you opened your eyes only when the warm pillow stood up, patting its way over to your stomach. It purrs against your cheek, whiskers tickling your nose as you blink back at it. It’s not surprising Minho has a cat - you’d picked up feline mannerisms in his behaviour before. It was endearing, now seeing the same slow blink in the eyes of the creature responsible for his habits.

It nudges its little head into your raised palm, rubbing against your hand. You give into the request happily scratching behind its ears, urging it to lay down next to you so you both could go back to sleep. The cat’s long body gives you something to focus on, easing the remnants of nerves from your brain.

***

You wake up more rested than you had been in weeks, despite pressure cramping your shoulder from the small couch you’d slept on. The living room is warmed by morning sunlight, though you’re not sure what time it is yet. You have no missed calls, and just one message from a student confirming the time of your session today. Creaks resound when you stretch, straightening out your bones from the night . The cat is nowhere in sight, but Minho must already be awake by the sounds coming from the adjacent room and you’re struck with embarrassment that he may have seen you sleeping. He would have walked right past the room, and since no door stood in the wide archway, he probably saw you drool right onto his pillowcase.

You consider sneaking out right then, grabbing your possessions and darting out the hallway, but you couldn’t leave without thanking him for letting you escape yesterday and for feeding you.

“Oh, hello.” The cause of your inner turmoil dips his head through the doorway, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, thank you.” Your knees bump against each other as you sit, patting down your hair. Minho looks well rested too, though his own hair isn’t combed yet and he’s not dressed to leave the house. Grey shorts this time with a plain white shirt hang off him, and he looks perfectly at home like that, humming a greeting at the floor when the cat you’d nestled into last night curls around his feet. White and ginger patches cover it’s fur, it’s belly a pure cotton shade as it rolls onto its back at your feet.

“You already met Soonie, right?” He laughs, pointing at your sweater, and belatedly you realise light-coloured cat hair clings to every inch of the fabric at your front.

“He came in to sleep here last night.” You pick at the frizzy hair to no avail. “I’m sorry if it got on your duvets, though…”

“It’s fine, my bedroom is covered in hair no matter how much I brush them out.” He joins you on the sofa next to the bundled bedsheets, placing the cat gently on his lap. Soonie makes himself content atop his legs, white paws dangling from the side. “I made breakfast for when you’re ready, and if you need to shower - I’ll grab you some towels.”

A shower did sound good, so you accepted his offer eager to strip from the clothes you slept in. Sweat was already making your sweater cling to your skin, and the cat hair combed through the fibers wasn’t doing the itching any favours. Not wanting to use up too much of his hot water, you rinsed yourself in record time. You packed your toothbrush, but not any shampoo, so you skipped out on washing your hair - taking Minho’s shower gel would be too much. You didn't want to go too far in his hospitality, and now he even cooked for you twice.

How could you repay that?

How were you supposed to make that worth his time?

You turned off the water then, not wanting to let your thoughts make you stall in the hot stream. You skipped out on wearing your sweater again, clothing yourself in the vest you had underneath and the pair of jeans you had last night. Feeling lighter now that the grime of sleep was washed from your skin, you looked around Minho’s bathroom before exiting. It was plain for sure, but accents of his personality lingered in the kitty paw-print of the shower mat, mint-scented shower gel and matching shampoo-conditioner set.

You’d never dwelled on whether Minho was a 3-in-1 shampoo user or not, but the knowledge he had dedicated creams and gels for each job reassured something inside you. It suited him. Yet the knowledge felt intimate, as if seeing the brand responsible for his mint and tea tree scent was encroaching on a level you weren’t supposed to know about as his neighbour.

You stood just beside the kitchen entrance, watching Minho set different dishes around the table top. Every flat inside your complex had similar layouts, so you were already familiar with the structure of his home. Still you watched, accidentally memorising the cupboard he stored his cups and cutlery.

“You can sit down, you don’t need to wait.” You faced his back, but he must have felt eyes burning on him. You sat down quickly, considering his words. Minho didn’t seem to mind a lot of things. It was unusual, being made aware of just how much instruction you relied on in unfamiliar settings.

And Minho smiles so much. It sets all your self preservation nerves on edge, analysing for underlying motive in his movement and sentences. You could clean his house if he asked, and replace the ingredients he used for your food. That would be the least you could do, and you’d settled on going about it as soon as he left for work - if he would leave. You had no idea what he did with his life apart from keeping you company on morning grocery hunts. But he was just so darn polite! He asked if you wanted any hot sauce, offered to butter your toast, even cleaned your dishes for you (again) that you had no idea what he could expect in return.

“Hey,” He calls over from the sink, “Give me a list of things you like so I can plan dinner later.”

“Why would you need that?” You still, glancing away from his mug collection.

“I only know you like courgette and hate leeks,” Wiping his hands on his jeans, he leans against the cupboards looking at you intensely. “And...you will be here for dinner, right?”

Would you be here that long? You weren’t expecting to. You’d go back two floors above and clean up the spilled noodles from last night, as your partner would have not, regardless of whether he’d returned home or was still out doing his mystery business. Minho frowns when you don’t answer, crossing his arms as you bow your head. You don’t want to anger him now, but how could you stay here any longer?

“Why would you want to go back there? It’s bad for you to be around that.” You know that, both at surface level and deeper - but how were you supposed to disappear? Sourness spread through your bones when you unearthed the feeling. You’re really scared - and you have been scared for years, but you never considered the feeling as such because opportunity never presented itself to escape. To admit you had to escape from something would be to admit you feared it, that you had been hurtt. You don’t know if you’re ready for that process.

“I don’t have anywhere else I can be, I still have things at that house, I can’t just leave.”

“You can.” Minho contradicts you immediately. His voice is level, gentle and coaxing, even though a strong resolve trembles in it. “You can stay with me as long as you want to. You don’t have to pay rent or anything, since I don't have a spare room but you can take my bed or stay on the couch if you like. Stay here for a few days, just - to feel better. It’ll make you feel better.”

He’s come to sit across from you, enough to give you space but enough for you to see worry lines around his eyes as he speaks. “I’ll give you space if you need it, just let me know if I can make things easier for you.”

“I’ll have to go grab a few of my things, I only got bare essentials yesterday.” Minho perks up right away, as if no tension hunched in his shoulders just seconds prior. It’s not as hard to agree as you thought it would be. You’re terrified, yes, of a step you know won’t end here. But you’re also more rested than you’ve been in so long, and the strain of all the stress become routine for the past years that you’re willing to grasp any straw at breaking the cycle. And Minho was nice. Everything you’d read between the lines of his actions was kind.

“Okay. Let me give you my number so we can talk while I’m not here, and you know - if anything happens, call me.”

You did go to fetch more of your things, after reassuring Minho it would be best if you went alone. If someone else was home, you could pass off your absence as work-related - it would be harder to explain why you weren’t alone.

His presence would just cause issues, and he eventually agreed to leave you on your own after you promised you had his number saved. You would also pay rent, but about ⅓ of it - on his insistence you got no proper room but a living room couch, and at your insistence you’d be using his utilities and house space. Your neighbour - housemate?- had to leave to do his own occupations, but assured you he’d be back within a few hours to help you.

You thanked him again for everything before he left saying you’d send him a list of your favourite food when you were done packing, and you set about your own tasks. He’d left the house keys with you, making the point of you more likely to be home before him.

They weighed heavy in your hand, the implications of the trust in his gesture more than the object itself.

You didn’t have a lot to move, but the transfer still takes you a few trips up and down concrete staircase. The majority of your haul is books, your own towels and toiletries. You’d have to perform an impromptu closet clearout, quickly deciding which old pieces to keep and which were better left in the past. Since Minho’s flat was similar, but inhabited one person only, his furniture would be cast to contain belongings of one. Working from home meant you were spared the task of office clothing or showy pieces, so all you had to part with was a few aged sweaters. You grab your laptop, a selection of favourite cups and plates so you don't have to borrow Minho’s all the time - though was it really borrowing if you would share the house?

You hurry as much as you can, but it still takes three trips up and down to completely transfer all traces of your life to the flat below. By the time you’re done, you decide to clean the small apartament to make organisation easier. It’s rapid work when you focus and separate Minho’s laundry without thinking about it. Darks, lights, and the sparse touch of coloured denims among his closet. Then you hoover, and by the time you finish hanging up the damp clothing on the balcony, it’s a while past lunchtime.

The turning of a lock swipes tension over your shoulders before you recognise Minho in the hallway, shuffling off his running shoes and hoodie. You meet him halfway, wiping your hands on your jeans to rid the laundry moisture.

“Hi,” His skin is flushed as if he’d been running, sweat sticking to the baby hair around his forehead when he smiles to greet you. Minho looks worn out, shoulders pulled high and taught. His breathing is laboured as he walks into the house, and only when he passes the threshold does he release the air in his lungs to slump in one of the barstools. “Did you get your things?”

“I don’t have a lot, so it only took a few trips.” You nod, following him to the kitchen. “I put most of them in the living room for now, though…”

“That's fine, we can go through the drawers and make space for you after we eat.” He reassured you, seeing you tug on your sleeves. “You didn’t send me a list of things you like to eat, so I got things I remember you buying instead.” His voice lilts into a pout as he looks at you, lips jutting into a pout before reaching into the bags he brought.

A strange feeling climbs higher and higher up your throat with every item he stacks on the counter and you wonder how much he actually spent on just foods you like. It grows stronger when you recognise your coffee brand, the cookies you got last week as he bumped into you that morning. A selection of fruits you used in a cake you gifted him last month, and sundries to fill the cupboards with.

“I can’t cook.”

Minho looks up at your confession, pausing from arranging the food.

“I mean, my cooking is edible at best.” You elaborate, looking away from his face to his hands as you lamely explain. “I could never, uh, make it taste good.”

“I’ll cook then.” Minho nods, shelving the sauce jars. Your eyebrows pull together and he must have noticed your hesitance, turning on his heel towards you. “Or I can teach you, slowly.”

“You can help me cook, and I’ll show you how to season different foods. We’ll start with things you like, so you already know how they’re supposed to taste. Then we can go from there.”

You want to ask if he’s sure, if it’s not a bother to have you around while he works to have someone hover around him needing assistance, but you do want to learn - If your food could taste half as heavenly as Minho’s cooking did, you’d be content. So you agree and he cheers at you, excitement contagious. And before you know it’s coming, there’s a surge in your heart at the sight of him again that makes grinning back at him a thoughtless action.

Cooking with Minho is more eventful than you expected.

When you watched him before, he navigated the kitchen with a practiced ease that made your awkward stumbles all the more prominent.

“Where do you keep knives?” He hands you a small knife, it’s green handle foreign in your palm.

“My hands keep slipping…” You fumble with the peeled onion as Minho tends the rice, tipping in a spoonful of white wine. The sting makes your eyes water, hazing your vision of the offending white bulb.

“You need to hold it with your other hand so it stays still, like a claw.” His hair was still damp, but now the moisture was from the shower he took before starting your lesson rather than sweat. You could recognise the mint scent in his shampoo and how it spilled over to his clothing, and no matter how reasonably awful it should have smelled mixed with raw onion you were cutting and the steam of boiling rice, you couldn’t get enough of the sensation. Minho acts open around you, treating you like a friend he’s known for years rather than an acquaintance from the farmer’s market. Only a day passed since you entered his home yet you felt so seen in his eyes. You must have been testing his patience not being able to cut a straight carrot slice without his help, but he never raised his voice above a patient hum. Sure, he did laugh a few times when your cucumber sticks came out triangles rather than evenly cut stips, but even his humour came without bite. His laughter was never at your expense, and it was kindling your heart alight at an alarming speed.

Minho (and his flat) became comfortable to you rapidly, and in the passing days your interactions all came more naturally than the last. Minho would leave around noon and come home just after 7pm, looking like he ran a marathon while you’d finish up your studies and the few zoom tutorials you teach for extra income. Despite his initial apprehension, he was grateful you took on cleaning duties so easily - he still insisted on doing the dusting and cleaning his bedroom himself, but it made you feel better to have some kind of input into house upkeep when you couldn’t contribute in many other ways. In the mornings he’d pass by the living room and you try your ebay to already be awake to spare yourself the embarrassment of Minho seeing you drool in your sleep, and in the evenings you cook together. Minho insists on increasingly difficult recipes, and you try to keep up despite recurring failures.

Five days into your coexistence, Minho is late.

Of course, you’ve only been part of his schedule for a week, but his arrival never differed by more than a few minutes - the gym he worked at was just a few blocks down the road. Tonight you wait with your phone in hand as 8pm rolls around, thumbs hovering over the call button. He did tell you to call him in case anything happens, but did that go both ways? If something happened to him, would he let you know too?

You knew he would not.

You weren’t nearly as reliable in that department, and it’s not like you could do much else than call emergency services - something he would surely do himself if he could call you in the first place. You can’t quite bring yourself to sit on the couch, leaning against the doorway to the living room with your eyes on the front door so intently you almost forget to blink by the time the handle starts to turn.

The unlocking click echoes in the silence you’ve sat in for the past hour and you shoot up, straightening your posture when the door finally gives way.

“Min?”

A/N: Sorry this is a day late, I was exhausted yesterday when I got home so had to delay it a little bit but now we're started! As you can tell this will be an incredibly slow burn, but I hope you enjoy the ride and see the development grow because I promise the deeper build up is worth the wait.

Tags: @healinghyunjin @lizsvcks @glitteryskzstraykidsdream (can't tag for some reason;;) @changbinscypher @spilledtee @linours