#dust's would be on his palms i feel. or backs of hand. he cant forget about it that way

[triglycercule]

something something mtt and branding (i dont know what i can say here but it just feels right. one of them probably has a brand. it's probably killer. erm.........)

[freckledbeom]

Umm 👉👈 jinyoung of got7 angsty fight leading up to make up sex oop - you don't have to of course, anyways take care hope your well x

thank you beloved, im well. sorry for taking a bit long these classes kicking my ass! hope this is what you wanted <33

fight with jinyoung / makeup sex

warnings; 19+ content, suggestive scenes

“so what now?” you questioned, almost scared to hear his response. “or do you do not care? once again.”

jinyoung sucked in a sharp breath. this was already your second quarrel this week over his alleged disregard for your feelings. this time, he stood you up after promising dinner. given his profession, you weren’t hysteric about the act of being stood up, but rather, what was done afterwards.

jinyoung would usually call say when he wouldn’t be able to make it, this time without. as if he wanted to pile things on, he came to your apartment without a word of what happened, not even bothering to apologize.

this struck you hard.

since the day you’d fallen for jinyoung, he never hesitated to put you on a pedastool and treat you with the utmost respect. even in front of the members, his love for you was on display.

but now, it was hard to see yourself come first to him, or even second. you felt like an afterthought.

“i do care. you should know that out of anyone.” jinyoung leaned against the counter, deciding to keep his distance.

“do you really or is that what you want me to hear? i know how this works.” you shot back, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “if you cared i wouldn’t feel like this.”

jinyoung scrunched his nose. “so what do i do from there? you never let me know how you’re feeling, what could i even do?”

“i don’t know maybe act like you give a fuck for once? you treat me like im annoying, like im a problem.” you retorted, surprised at yourself for swearing at him.

“well if you feel like you’re the problem maybe you are.”

as short as that statement was, it hit you like a block of cement.

“oh?” you step back a lttile. nodding your head, you grabbed your small tote that was neatly packed by the door. “alright then.”

before he could even correct his mistake, you were hauling out of the door letting free with any tears that decided to come down.

two days later

two days felt like a week and you had found the need to pick up a hobby in an effort to clear your mind of jinyoung. you didn’t know for sure that this was a breakup. your friends had already tried to assure you that the separation should have been enough to solidify any lingering thoughts about your relationship status.

but still, you couldn’t wipe him from your brain. how he used to gently rub the back of your head, thumb grazing over your ear when you spoke. how he used to take all of you in his arms when you cried. it felt like a bucket of bricks had been thrown at you when you realized how all of this simply just stopped one day.

tears welling up, you pulled your knees to your lap, cradling them.

you sat in front of an empty canvas on the floor. it was a sorrowful attempt at painting, you’d only gotten a small sketch started. an outstretched hand stared back at you, lacking any color or life.

two knocks at the door.

that was all it took for you to suck up the stray tears that had fell from your eyes.

making your way to the door, you stilled anxious for what was waiting for you behind the door.

"y/n? you're here right?" jinyoung called out from the other side. you felt a heavy knock against the tight door, which you presumed to be his head.

“love, let’s talk.” the desperation in his throat gave life to his words and soon it was enough for you to turn the knob.

opening the door felt heavier than the space you’d given each other and your emotions flooded over until your eyes welled again. plump breast heaving up and down, you sniffed away the salty tears before they took control.

tilting your head, you stared back at the man you’d fallen in love with. although his his hair was slightly disheveled, you could only guess that was from his head hitting the door. jinyoung had looked the same as he did any day, this time a bouquet of sunflowers to show.

what would you say to him? what would he think of you now? your appearance certainly wasn’t the one he had given gentle ‘i love you’s to every night. your button up top was covered in paint, jeans to match; this was definitely not the best time.

“y/n, can i come in?” jinyoung rocked on his heels back and forth while you scanned his physique.

nodding, you turned in the opposite direction motioning him to follow you.

you hastily gathered your painting materials. you could feel jinyoung’s eyes on the back of your head, sharp enough to read your thoughts.

dusting off what remained on your lap, you took a seat far enough from jinyoung to calm your nerves but close enough to read his facial expressions.

“so i assume you came here for a reason other than lounging on my couch?” your eyes dulled a little, waiting for a response.

even though your tone reeked of anger, he chuckled, almost as if he was happy you spoke to him that way. “im here because you’re still my girlfriend. and i-”

“you love me? we haven’t spoken in two days. what would you call that?”

jinyoung parted his lips slightly, giving you a stressed look that you hadn’t seen since early when you had started dating. “i didn’t come here to argue with you, i really wanna talk you. if you want me to leave ill go, but at least listen to me. please.”

he had a a way with words. maybe it was the way he spoke. the way he was just loud enough for you to hear and gentle enough to coax you into forgetting why you were ever mad in the first place.

and while the cold silence gave little room for speech, you could feel yourself growing needier for jinyoung. as if his heat could make the shattered halves of you feel whole again.

it was more than the way he looked at you, only a few inches taller. his perversion over your mind left you wondering if it was the way he’d grab you in moments like this, kissing you ever so softly.

breathing into him, you reached for jinyoung’s face, letting your body crumble into his arms. whereever you could put your arms, you were taking hold of.

walking backwards, your backside met the rigid wall. you let a moan fall into your throat while your tongues glided against eachother.

jinyoung’s hands were big, big enough to keep a hand teasing your waist and a hand guiding your chin. he pressed himself against your middle, earning a small moan in return.

pulling back to breathe, jinyoung took in all of you, examining features he hadn’t seen in what felt like years.

before he could dive back in, you put both palms on his chest.

“not here.” you stifled out, grabbing him and making your way into your bedroom.

jinyoung didn’t delay one bit, shifting his weight on yours, pressed against the mattress. with the way he rubbed himself on you, you were sure that if he kept going you could reach an orgasm just like that.

instead he pulled away, snatching your bottoms off rather hastily. your middle was throbbing, begging for any kind of physical touch.

despite this, you still flinched when jinyoung entered you. he had you on the edge of the bed, teasing you with his member.

slowly, he would push all the way into you, just to back completely out. this was madness, this pace he was at. not a word was spoken between the two of you except for sharp curses and shallow moans.

gripping his arms, you leaned your head back in pure bliss. before you could even look back at him, jinyoung sped his pace up, skin slapping as a mixture to the collection of sounds.

his movements coerced an even deeper moan, curling from the back of your throat.

“feels good baby?” jinyoung questioned. you nodded obidiently, your orgasm creeping close.

sucking in a sharp breath, you bit down on your bottom lip. “jinyoung, baby, im gonna come.”

“come then.”

those two words were enough for you to completely fall apart all over him.

feeling your inner sqeeze around him, jinyoung couldn’t hold out for much longer. with one hand around your throat, he used the other to pull out and paint your torso with his fluid.

your bodies were still hot and shivering when he leaned down to kiss you. this time, neither of you wanted to pull away.

thumbing the semen that lie on your belly, jinyoung stared down at you.

“why cant i let you go?”

[e-jaegerenthusiast]

so this is goodbye

aot manga spoilers (everything + 139 included)

sketch by me (ik, ew)

warnings/tw; angst. heartache. agony 😁

summary; except for mikasa and armin, what did eren say to the others when he came to visit them?

song; visions of gideon-sufjan stevens

note; i was expecting the extra pages for 139 to be this. but oh well, i love them either way— aot has many stories to tell still. cant wait.

it was the least eren could do for him. after being his captain for so many years, making countless sacrifices for him, listening to him. he knew levi didn’t have a dream for himself, he knew his dream was erwin’s dream, erwin’s promise. so he could only guess what else he would like.

Levi flinched, one second he was sitting with the others on that damned ship, on their way to stop eren, but with a blink of his eye, he was sitting behind a bar. he glanced at his surroundings, trying to figure out what’s happening, he was always good at that, he needed to be. it wasn’t a bar, it seemed to be a counter of some sort, he ran his hand on the underside of the wooden counter, yet no dust came off when he brought his fingers to his own face.

the faint sound of a kettle diverted his gaze onto the stove not so far from him, he furrowed his brows, where was he? as he listened to the way the kettle boiled slowly, a familiar voice caught his attention. “hey...captain,” he had heard that voice call him captain one too many times. he didn’t even need to turn to know who it was, yet he still did. wanting to see with his own eye. eren was sitting in one of the round tables with 3 chairs, he looked younger. he looked like the same fifteen year old brat levi taught and looked after himself. his hair short, eyes burning a bright jade, no longer teal like present..present?

levi wanted to beat that brat up so much, didn’t matter if he was taller than him, or held the power of three powerful titans, he wanted to beat him to a pulp with his own knees. teach him how he has wasted his whole life protecting the boy, was war and genocide how he was going to repay him? repay their sacrifices? repay his sacrifice?

all thoughts were dusted away, sucked away into oblivion as eren spoke to him, levi looked down at his own fists, why were they clenched? why was he mad at fifteen year old eren? he was just a kid. “this is your tea shop captain, do you like it?” eren talked with a monotone voice, it felt like deja vü to levi, yet he didn’t know why. he couldn’t tell why his voice didn’t match his appearance. yet there was this nagging feeling in his brain , he shouldn’t be here.

“tea— tea shop? tsk, i don’t own a damn tea shop.” never in his life levi had doubts about anything, yet for once he spoke his words without knowing the truth behind them. eren looked down at his hands, stretching his fingers out before unstretching them again, he let out a sound, levi’s brows furrowed. was the damn brat laughing? or was he crying? he couldn’t tell what emotions eren held anymore.

“y’know captain,” eren spoke slowly as he got out of the table in the corner of the shop, making his way to the counter and sitting infront of levi, “you’re an ackerman. so obviously you won’t buy this stupid fake reality i made to try and condone my actions to you.” eren put a hand on his own forehead, tugging at his own hair, a tear drop rolled down his face, “it’s pathetic really, out of all the others, i don’t have anything planned to tell you, captain levi.” levi’s eyes widened and he seemed to be deep in thought, “it doesn’t matter if i apologize captain, it won’t bring back the lives of our soldiers who died for this, who died for me.”

levi was getting glimpses of memories back with each word that left eren’s lips, erwin’s limp body laying on that rooftop, petra’s neck pulled back against that tree, “i’ve failed you, captain levi.” hange’s hopefull eyes even as she dived into her own demise.

levi’s eye twitched, lunching towards eren over the counter, both of them falling down to the ground with what should’ve been an ear deafening noise, yet it was quite. it was quite as levi’s punches landed against the boy’s cheeks. it was quite until levi broke the silence, finally shouting. letting it out, “why?! why?! why did you do all this?! huh?” another punch to eren’s nose, yet he wouldn’t say anything, his eyelids low as he looked at levi with a grim expression. “god dammit you brat! why?! if you’re the all knowing! why couldn’t you change things? make it so that so many people wouldn’t have to die?!”

‘tell me if there’s another way!’ he had shouted at hange past the cells of his prison. he knew she was going to die. he knew and yet, shouting at her about not being able to change things was the last encounter between them before she burned within eren’s hell. he would see her later, not in this life. but he would cry and beg for her forgiveness as she smiles at him, making jokes about the bang she went out in.

levi’s knuckles were dripping blood now, yet he didn’t feel even the slightest of burning pain. he brought his hands up, the blood dripping down his fingers and onto his palm, painting it red. with a flick of both his wrists, the blood from his palm splattered onto eren’s face, mixing with the blood running down his nose. “this blood,” levi clenched and unclenched his fists, making more blood drip onto eren’s neck. “all of this blood, it’s on you, it’s on me, it’s on us.”

bang! a bullet. a damned bullet. shot by a young girl, a young hotheaded brat that reminded him too much of himself. he had seen it. he knew it was going to happen, yet why? why was he shaking? why was his heart trembling for the potato girl? why did he burst out crying? his own friends family forgetting the way he copes as they accused him of laughing at their friend’s death. how would he laugh? how could he laugh? it was all on him. he knew it. but he had to continue. for them.

with that, levi rolled off of eren, sitting on the wooden floor next to the boy as he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. what was this feeling? he felt it all the way in his guts, traveling up his vocal cords and settling right above his adam’s apple. his lips trembled, his bloody hands coming up to cover his face, to try and mix the blood with the tears running from his eyes. why was he hitting eren?

they wouldn’t mix. his tears were hot, steaming down his cheeks as it burned him. eren’s blood.. eren’s blood had ran cold. blood shouldn’t be cold, levi of all people knew that, having felt it cover his hands and face one too many times. blood was supposed to be warm.

blood. blood everywhere. it was warm, burning his palms, burning his soul. he was just a kid, yet he had just killed two grown men. blood covered his hands, blood covered his soul. he knew he wouldn’t be the same. he knew the girl wouldn’t be the same after he wrapped the scarf around her.

he looked next to him, eren sitting with his legs crossed as they both sat in the center of the tea shop. levi looked down at his own hands, covered in blood, matching eren’s face. he blinked, eren’s face now clean, levi looked down at his own hands again, the blood was gone.

eren got up, holding his hand out for levi to hold, levi sighed, getting up as he used eren’s hand for leverage. “captain levi, i’ll explain everything to you as fast as i can, but you have to promise me something,” levi looked up at him, a sad expression on his face. “you have to help mikasa kill me. it’s the only way.” eren said as his face contorted into his older self, messy bun with loose strands falling down to his forhead. only way to what? it gave levi a headache.

-

levi never wanted to visit that god forsaken island again. he was content in marley, he had made a life for himself. his own tea shop, somehow it looked exactly like the one eren showed him. gabi and falco helped him take care of it, while taking care of him without his knowledge. sometimes he would find himself wishing he could visit eren’s grave, so he stared at the wooden floor of the tea shop, blood passing by his eyes as he wishes he didn’t paint the floors with it when he saw eren. he looks away as he feels a tear sliding down his cheek. that selfless brat.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

he would always be fighting with the boy, over things that did not need fighting over. but that’s what they say about frenemies, even as they act like they despise eachother, they truly admire eachother secretly. that’s what Jean felt for him. he was jealous sometimes, but mostly out of admiration for the brunette.

he always wanted a peaceful life, wanted to live happily next to someone he loves, he wanted a normal life. he didn’t even want to join the survey corps at first, wanting to thrive in the easygoing state of the military. yet, something about the hotheaded, determined boy sparred him on to risk his life, over and over.

Jean opened his eyes, the sunset could be seen on the distance not too far from the hillside. tall, green spruce trees sat around him, a cool breezing hitting them as he closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath. he was at peace, he didn’t know why but he was comfortable.

he opened his eyes the moment he heard the annoying voice of his rival, “oi, jean,” eren was sitting next to him, hair fanning around his neck. he looked like he was sixteen, but in jean’s mind, he always looked like that.

jean rolled his eyes, closing them and sighing as he laid down, feeling cool grass tickle his ears. “what are you doing here, idiot? don’t bother me when i’m relaxing.”

eren raised a brow as he looked down at jean, a small smile creeping its way accross his lips, “you’re always smart when you’re giving orders jean, what happened now?”

jean opened his eyes again, this time a slight shock twirling in his hazel orbs, leaning on one elbow as his face relaxed a bit, “right. we’re sitting here in your brain or something, as in reality, you’re actually destroying the whole world.”

eren rolled his eyes, a sad smile residing on his features. “listen jean, this isn’t going to be easy, none of this is. i’m just asking you to see eye to eye with me here?”

jean gave eren a sympathetic smile, slowly nodding his head, motioning for him to go on.

eren didn’t expect that, he didn’t expect jean to just sit and listen to his point of view of all people. his face contorted into one of confusion.

jean put his hand on eren’s shoulder, squeezing slightly as he nodded his head again, “i trust your judgment, eren.”

eren could feel tears pool in his eyes, threatening to fall any second, he was quite literally exhausted in every way. he needed a shoulder to cry on, he knew armin saw him breakdown, but it wasn’t enough. he felt like he could cry a river if he let himself. if his pride let him.

there was a heavy weight on his shoulders, the weight of the whole world, the weight of his friends’ and comrads’ lives, the weight of his own dignity, the weight of his decisions. the weight of the past, present, the future.

a single tear rolled down his cheek, he turned his head to the side quickly, wiping it away with his elbow but it was too late, jean had noticed it.

jean frowned, getting concerned as he wrapped one arm around eren, not really knowing what he’s doing.

eren’s body stiffened, his breath getting caught in his throat. jean took the silence as welcoming, wrapping another hand around him hesitantly, bringing eren close to his chest.

involuntary, the next breath eren let out turned into a broken sob, taking himself and jean by surprise as he broke down in jean’s arms, his screams echoing in the mountains and hilltops around them.

after a few seconds, eren calmed down a bit, moving away from jean as he wiped his eyes, hiding his head in his own arms.

jean chuckled, “idiot, did you just cry? what a baby.” he teased. eren looked at him with red eyes, letting out a chuckle, and several after that. playfully hitting jean’s shoulder

after their shared laughter died down, jean took a deep breath, “y’know eren... i never really hated you, i hope that—“ eren caught him off, saying in a low voice “i didn’t either, promise.”

jean gave him a sad smile, tears burning his own eyes as he tried to blink them away, “i know everything that you’re doing is for us. i know the others don’t realize it, but i do. i know it all has a reason behind it, yeah? suicidal bastard.”

eren nodded rapidly, weakly smiling as he spoke “i promise, yes. yes it does, i’m trying—“ his voice shook, “trying to do the right thing here, jean. everything— everything is happening so fast and at the same time and i just—“

jean ran his hand up and down eren’s back, “i know eren, i know. actually no, i’m stupid, and probably not even half as smart as you are. i can’t imagine or even begin to know what you’re going through.”

eren sniffed, looking back at jean with a pleading look in his eyes, “live a long life jean, please.”

jean gave a broken chuckle, “if you let me, yeah, that’s the goal.”

with that they both broke down, their tears not stopping as broken laughs left both the grown men’s mouths, pressing their foreheads together as they couldn’t even tell the difference between laughter or sobs anymore.

“and jean— make sure mikasa’s happy.”

jean tried to speak but eren shushed him,

“please, draw me for her. i know you can. make sure she doesn’t forget my face, yeah?”

“and take care of her jean, make her happy.” he said with a broken sob.

-

he would hug his own knees as he visited eren’s grave, he would talk to him as if he was there, teasing him and calling him an idiot, in hopes he could hear it from somewhere. he would sit in silence, covering his own ears occasionally. suicidal bastard, he thought as he would repeat their conversation in his head by the hillside as the sun rose.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

Connie was always the goofy guy of the group, he’d make eren laugh a lot when they were together. his compassion being shown with jokes and snarky comments here and there.

they were really good friends, eren didn’t know when connie stopped being his goofy self, he didn’t know when he stopped making jokes with him. he had forgot it all, his memories like broken fragments of glasses all messed up in his head.

maybe it was when sasha died, when connie was left alone and broken. when he lost his twin, his other half. when he looked eren in the eyes with horror swirling in them instead of humor, tears rolling down his cheeks as it seemed all of the color from his face was drained and thrown off that damned airship.

maybe he lost all hope in eren then, maybe he thought of him as maniac, a complete psychopath who would laugh at his own family’s death.

little he knew all that eren was going through for them, little he knew all the things the young boy had to endure just because he was born into this world.

hot embers of fire swirled around in the cold air as wind blew, it was silent, peaceful. connie looked around himself, the crackling fire burning brightly on what seemed to be a rocky side of the beach, the sound of waves crashing against nearby stones filling his ears.

he looked up, sky littered in twinkling stars that seemed to be winking just for him. and not long passed before he heard eren’s smooth voice, mildly startled as he looked next to him.

eren was sitting there, staring up at the stars as each of them seemed to twinkle in his emerald green eyes, he looked fifteen, like when they first became friends. like when he would hear his stories and be impressed by the brave boy that wanted to take on all the titans by himself.

“hey, connie, why do you think starts die?”

connie chuckles, “i don’t know, they get sick?”

eren raises his brows, “well, kind of, yeah.”

eren sighed, “fine i’ll tell you, you’ve always been bad at riddles anyway.”

connie pushed him with his elbows slightly as he rolled his eyes.

“they die out, one day they just... get tired and exhausted of shining. even though they look really pretty, they die too.” eren sighed.

connie frowned, slowly realizing where he is and why eren is there. he looked at eren with wide eyes.

eren turned to him, eyes pleading as he spoke, “i’m sorry about sasha, connie. i really am. i swear i couldn’t stop it, if i could, i would. it’s not like that it’s—“

connie stopped him, startling the boy as he hugged him. “it’s okay eren. she would forgive you.”

eren smiled, another tear rolling down his cheek, god dammit.

“your mom can be saved, i’ll save her. i’ll do it connie. live a long life with her.”

-

he would smile at the sky constantly, always staring at the starts as they twinkled down at him, he knew eren was one of them. he hoped at least. “my mom did live eren, thank you.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

eren would look up to Reiner like his own older brother, like his mentor. times were he fell on his ass during training, reiner would be there to pick him up. to always lend him a hand when he needed it.

he didn’t know he would have to go against eren numerous times, every battle of theirs ending with both of their titans beaten down and their souls exhausted, never really having a clear winner.

reiner hated that part of himself, that part that thought of eren as a younger brother, as an ambitious kid that was too goal-driven for his own good.

he also hated the part of himself that longed to kill eren, to finally fulfill his task that made him lose bertoldt, to finally have that weight off his shoulders. to finally be at peace with his family.

in conclusion, reiner hated all parts of himself. he wanted to put an end to himself, yet he couldn’t do it, he was too cowardly, and he also hated himself for that.

the sound of a river could be heard in the distance as reiner sighed, his head aching and not knowing his surroundings, he wasn’t supposed to be here. he was supposed to be fighting. fighting for his life, fighting for other’s lives.

“oh, reiner.” eren’s voice startled him as he looked to his side, eren’s hair long and facial hair on his face was bringing deja vu to reiner. if he weren’t terrified that day, he would be impressed by how much eren has really grown.

reiner sighed, nodding his head in response. “help my friends, they were once yours too. they still are, reiner.”

reiner felt a stinging in his eyes, yet he couldn’t tell what it was as he looked at eren, nodding rapidly, “i am. i know. you were all my family too, eren.”

reiner cried, eren having a sad smile on his face as he watched him. “i want you to live a long life reiner, just like all of them, okay? please don’t end it yourself.”

reiner’s hands shook as he looked at eren, “i’m not even half the man you are eren.”

“you looked out so well for all of us, i promise i will too, i’ll take care of them, bro.”

“good.”

-

he never thought suicidal thoughts anymore. he stopped hating himself for everything. he would visit eren’s grave with a smile, thanking him under his breath quietly, checking in on all of his friends more and more as he found his true self.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

Annie didn’t feel much towards the boy, he thought he was a hotheaded idiot who was going to meet his end by annie herself.

yet she was wrong, he was way stronger than she thought. and she admired that.

annie blinked, warm sun dancing on skin as she stood up, she was surrounded by flowers, the smell of colorful tulips filling the air with the soft breeze.

she walked through the field, closing her eyes as she breathed in the scent of the flowers, calming her senses.

when she opened them, eren was standing infront of her, hair short and physique small as he looked just like the last time she saw him, the last time she tried to kill him.

“long time, annie.” he mumbled, his hands inside his pockets as he walked closer.

annie clenched her fists by her sides, taking a deep breath as she looked at him, and then she realized it.

she realized where she was and how she was one of the many people who started this. who turned eren into this, a frown sat on her features as she started panicking, wanting to scream.

she felt eren’s hand on her shoulder, calming her breathing slightly and taking her out of her trance.

“calm down, annie. it’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

“i’m sorry, eren.”

eren gave her shoulder a squeeze, reassuring her as he gave her a soft smile, “take care, annie.”

-

she kept the ring, it reminded her of eren, the only stupid little thing reminding her of all the hardships she’s had to overcome, all the things eren had to overcome as she was frozen in time in that damn basement. she would live her life to the fullest now. his sacrifices wouldn’t go to vain.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

and so, even if war continues, even if all eren’s sacrifices barely made a dent in history, at least his friends were thankful. they were thankful as they lived long lives without no longer having to fight for it constantly. thanking eren and holding him dear in their hearts at all times.

© all content belongs to e-jaegerenthusiast, do not repost or copy any of my work

[bedtimebrain]

EXO KAI: Detective Gone Wrong P3

You can find the masterlist to the other parts on my bio/description!

Characters: JonginxYou

You came to know Jongin by accident, but have no clue he’s EXO’s Kai. And when you found out....

You walked away blankly, remaining in a daze until your phone started vibrating in your pocket.

It was your boss who called and anxiously asked if you could cover her shift from the afternoon as she forgot about her wedding anniversary dinner.

You gladly agreed, thinking it might be better to have something to occupy yourself with today. Otherwise you’re just going to be spending the day thinking about you and jongki.

Still sane enough to be in need for breakfast, you went by the convenience store to pick up a sandwich. Standing in front of the fridge, you paused to think

What does jongki want? Does he... like me ?

And he KISSED ME TOO?! That’s definitely something only couples do right?!

How did everything escalate so fast overnight ?!

‘Excuse me, are you getting anything? You’re standing in the way’

You must have stood there for quite a while, looking at the irritated face of the customer. Apologising, you just grabbed whatever sandwich there was on the shelf and left after paying.

Falling deep in thought and replaying what happened last night again, you opened your sandwich packaging and bit down on your sandwich  

EW! Egg Mayo!

You sighed. Feeling a little more miserable with wrong sandwich choice, you continued feeding on your thoughts on the way home.

You dive straight into your bed and hugged your big Coney plush the first thing you got back. You screamed into Coney like a lunatic and kicked the air violently with your legs.

Stupid jongki, who does he think he is. Ah yes, I secretly gave you a kiss, so what. IT WAS JUST A FRIENDLY KISS CAUSE YOU WERE CUTE.

BUT WHATS WITH KISSING ME ON THE LIPS AND WAKING UP TOGETHER LIKE ITS ABSOLUTELY NORMAL

What a flirt!! See y/n you were right. Rich, handsome guys, tsk. Bound to be bad.

You threw coney to the side and your phone came crashing down with it from your side table.

Groaning, you bend over your bed to pick it up, only to see a message from the dear boy you wanted out of your mind right now.

J:I’m heading out for work soon~ have a good day today😙

Is that a kissy face?!

Oh goodness, you were so annoyed.

Kim Jongki, are you playing with me right now?? WE ARE NOT ATTACHED

.....

at least not yet (?)

Tossing the phone aside, you decided to take a shower. Afterall showers always work best for any occasion. You got up and spent a peaceful 20minutes running under hot water, clearing your thoughts. 

Though still feeling bothered, you were definitely more refreshed. Time check , it was about time for you to get changed and pick up lunch on the way to the store.

Dusting on some light make up, bunning up your hair, you changed into your working clothes. In 30 minutes you were out of the house.

On the bus ride to your working area, you were so torn between checking your phone and not to. You wanted to know if jongki texted you again, but you didn’t really want to deal with this situation.

Fiddling with your phone, you almost dropped it when it beeped to announce a message had arrived.

That’s a sign, I should look at it! Since it rang when I’m thinking whether I should

Excitedly you unlocked your phone and checked your notification, only to find that it was just a reminder message from your landlord to pay your rent.

Your heart literally dropped because you actually really wanted to receive a message from him. Just then your phone beeped again and this time it was from jongki!

J: y/n ah what’s for lunch today? I’m having kimchi stew. Texting because I thought about you who might be board having an off day today :p

Sigh, you can’t deny that boy is so cute and lovable. But you still weren’t ready to reply him. You wanted things to be clearer between both of you. While uncertainty in relationships can be the most heart fluttering period, you didn’t like being in that phase.

It wasn’t long before you reached your stop to alight. Not feeling particularly hungry yet, you stopped by street stalls along the way instead.

You arrived at your shop, feeling satisfied with the pajeon you just had. You almost forgot how therapeutic the scent of flowers were until you stepped in. The mixed floral scent of dew and freshness instantly released you from the troubled thoughts bugging you at the back of your head.

‘Unnie! I’m here! How could you forget your wedding anniversary , hahah. Have you bought a gift or something yet?’

‘Ah, y/n ah! My life saviour. No I haven’t bought anything! There’s just too many activities and occasions this month that I forgot about my own. Gosh’ she face palmed herself making you laugh

‘Then you better leave soon to get your gift! I’m here already anyway! I’ll just continue wrapping this bouquet you’re currently working on’

‘I’ll buy u a meal another day, sorry for calling you back on your off day~ oh right I’ve a parcel coming later, just open and let me know what’s inside. I ordered so many I can’t even remember what’s coming anymore.’ Removing her apron, she rushed off after saying googbye. 

Looking at the tasklist, it was going to be a busy day. 5 bouquets to finish and lots of prep for the workshop tomorrow. You immersed yourself in the wrapping right away. 

A few minutes later, your phone lighted up. It was a message from jongki.

J:yaaa, are you ignoring me deliberatelyy? do you want to come over again on sunday? 

You scoffed when you saw the message because your detective mind came to a conclusion that the latter question was just bait to get the answer to his first question. He was tempting you with a chance at his place that was a hit or miss if you don’t reply him. 

You put down the stalks of flowers you were still holding in your hands, you paused to form an appropriate reply. 

Text:

my lunch was great, and i cant go over on sunday, im going to my parent’s place 

You typed then deleted it, doesn’t sound about right, you remember telling him yesterday that you got a half day shift on sunday which you really hated.

Trying again,

i got called back at work 

Sounds fine? Should you send it like this? 

‘Delivery!’

Reacting in shock , you pressed the send button by accident at the voice of delivery man

ah shucks! 

You closed your eyes and hit yourself on the head imaginatively. Smiling at the delivery guy, you received the parcels and signed them off. 

One of it came in a tube, while the other was in a box.

What in the world did unnie order that would come in a tube? Wallpapers? Drawings??

The tube really piqued your curiosity, so you decided to check that first. opened it first.

Opening the tube, you pulled out a rolled piece of paper. Unrolling it, you noticed at the top right was a black and white logo that writes EXO Obsession. 

Ohhhh EXO!! Unnie likes exo?

Ever since you watched 100 days my prince, you had a positive inclination towards EXO. Which also reminded you of jongki who seems to like EXO Kai.

You wondered who was going to be in this poster. Not like you would recognise them though, you thought, unless its do kyungsoo ssi. 

A little excited, you pulled the poster open to full length.

Looking at the poster that stared back at you. Your smile faded away. Your jaw dropped.

‘Jongki oppa?’ you muttered under your breath

There was an uncanny resemblance between the man in the poster and jongki. 

 No way, who the hell is this from EXO? 

You turned the poster to the back hoping to find a name of the man in the picture. But there was no information.

Flipping back over, you looked closer at the other small details on the logo, you found this 3 lettered word staring back at you — ‘KAI’.

EXO KAI? Jongki watches his dance videos... or rather, Jongki also can dance ..

There were only two logical possibilities to this , either jongki has a twin or... kai is jongki..

You had to know the answer to this incredulous situation.

Making a grab for your phone, you saw jongki had already replied you , but you weren’t even going to read it

Madly typing away

Y: Oppa, do you have a twin ?

You could feel blood pumping through your veins as you sent it.

How could this be possible ? He mustn’t be exo right?

Although you weren’t interested in boy groups, there’s no one that hasn’t heard of EXO in the whole of korea. And that’s how popular EXO is.

Even though you have never checked them out to find out how they looked like, but you still knew a few names. Names like Baekhyun , chanyeol and.. kai..

Thinking of it now, it seems to all make sense that he could dance, he has abs, he’s rich, works till late, doesn’t reply all the time....

As you waited for his text to come back in, you googled EXO Kai.

Birth name: Kim Jong In

Birthday: 14 Jan 1994

Height: 1.82m

1994 was his birth year, that’s right. Kim Jong in, difference of 1 word. 1.82m, yes, obviously describes him. Google images ? 100% similarity.

If it’s not a twin....

Ding!

His msg came in

J: uh, no.. that was so random though, why? Saw someone looking like me?

You didn’t want to believe this. The friend you’ve been hanging with and even sleeping at his place.. is kai?

In the past, when you watched those cliche dramas you never understood why people made such a huge fuss when they found out their dating partner has a hidden identity.

Like isn’t it totally exciting and fun! Especially if the person turns out to be some rich CEO. Wow, your rags to riches story would come true over night.

That’s how you thought you would react.

But honestly, all you felt was some sense of betrayal right now.

Y: oppa, I think I just found out what you do...

you sent

Just in a few seconds, he replied

J:really?! What’s your wild Guess this time ?

Your hands were shaking as you prepared to type this. The moment you send this and he confirms it... what are you going to do ?

But still, this has to be done

Y: EXO Kai. Kim Jong In.

Again, he replied instantaneously

J:omg, took you long enough!! How did you find out though??!

Clearly not being able to sense the tension over the phone, he was, as usual, cheery about everything.

Y:so it’s true ? Why did you lie your name to me?

You had no idea why you felt so emotional to the brink of tears about this truth.

J: ah, I’m sorry for lying about that.. I was worried initially if I told you my real name you might make a connection and recognise me at the start.

He double texted as soon as you received that msg, saying

J: y/n, are you ok?

You typed

no I’m not. I don’t even know how I should be feeling now, or what I should be doing about our friendship.

But.. you didn’t send it. You switched your phone to do not disturb and kept it in your bag.

You stared blankly at the poster for a while before putting it back in the tube. You’re still in disbelief. This situation was ridiculous. But it was logical.

In a state of mental breakdown, you couldn’t even wrap your bouquets right. You switched over to prepping for the workshop tomorrow instead. But your mind was so preoccupied with the whole fiasco that you kept missing things out. You just wanted work to end and have the time to yourself.

The entire day went by in a mess, but at least it finally ended. Back at home, you scroll through the multiple texts he sent you

J: hmm, seems like you’re pretty shocked about this right?

J: I wanted to tell you but you said you preferred if I didn’t though..

Then there was also a missed call from him

J: Call me back?

You swiped away all his notifications. There is something you really want to do, but not really ready to. You contemplated

Should I? Search kai up ?

Typing into Google, you searched kai. It was strange, just 24 hours ago you guys were so close, almost like lovers. But right now, you’re searching him up and getting to know him like an unreachable stranger.

You tapped into one of those webpages that told fans his entire life story. From his blood type to who he has ever dated and all that small little things people conclude from what he has said.

Again, you felt a stab in your heart and sour inside. These were things you never knew about , but surely, everyone else but you knew. It was like... jongki wasnt jongki, this him is different, it feels so far and distant from the one you knew...

Pondering on that thought, you let out a bitter laugh. Jongki really wasnt jongki. He was never jongki.

Switching to YouTube , you click on ‘mmmh’ the first result when you searched kai. No matter how you tried to keep an open mind, you didn’t like it. His costume made him strange and the song really wasn’t your type.

Deciding that’s enough for the day, you put your phone aside and tried your best to fall asleep.

—-

Back at work the next day, you decided to get some ‘intel’ from your boss about kai.

‘Unnie, you like EXO Kai?’

‘Ne!!! Wae? Isn’t his visuals to die for???’ She reacted so excitedly upon hearing his name

‘Why don’t I remember you liking EXO though?’

‘I recently just got into them because of my friend who kept playing their songs on repeat in her car’ she laughed as she fixed the flowers

‘Why did you ask though? Since when were you interested in boy groups?’ She continued asking

‘Ah... When I checked the poster yesterday I thought kai was really good looking, so I’m just asking haha. So what’s so nice about kai you bought a poster?’ Finally asking what you really wanted to .

‘Oh gawd, you really wanna know? I could go on a whole day about jongin. Though he is sooooo fierce on stage , killer looks and everything, but he has such a cute personality!! You know when they ........’

And she went on and on about it, even showing you clips of kai on variety shows, interviews, etc. In these the sense of familiarity was back, you felt like this was the Jongki you knew. Oh well, it’s Jongin now, you really got to change it out.

You laughed along with your boss and you understood why he had so many fan girls. Introducing you to some EXO songs, you had to admit you really liked them!

Knowing more about kai now, you went back home that night and sat infront of your laptop, making a search for EXO’s variety shows, music videos and the likes.

You searched up ‘kai cute moments’ and you wanted to sqush him because he was just so cute like how he was normally. At the same time you can’t help but feel a little jealous that you’re sharing these sides of him with other people too.

You watched his dance videos and he was literally a dancing king. Thinking back to when he danced for you, you suddenly realised just how many girls would die to be in your place.

It was already 1am by the time you finished your search. A msg came in just as you were about to crash

J: are you up? I’m going to the convenience store to grab some food. Are you hungry? Want to come along?

Seeing his msg, you felt a little bad about ignoring him for the 2nd day now. How should you reply him now that the situation is a little awkward ?

Nicely, your phone died as you were thinking.

Alright, just a sign I should go to bed, oppa I’ll reply you after I get my phone charged up tmr.

——

You woke up to an absolutely crisis that you overslept. Considering how you didn’t sleep well for the past 2 nights over jongin, this was bound to come. You quickly washed up and left for work.

Plugging your phone into the portable battery, you phone came back to live. Again, jongin was persistent in his texts. 

J:y/n ah don’t ignore me please

J:Come over on sunday? 

J: I’m waiting for your reply. 

It was 1.30am when he asked you to come over on sunday, but his last message was past 3am. He must have been thinking about what happened with you.. You felt bad for being so absorbed in how you felt and failed to consider his feelings  when it really wasn’t his fault.

All this started out because of your dumb self who wanted to play detective. But then again, if you had found out who he was from the start, would you have gotten this close with him? Possibly not. You replied him without delay

 Y: i’ll come over on sunday

The shop gets really busy on saturdays, packed with workshops, tons of deliveries and online orders. You didn’t have time to check your phone till the end of the day, at which you saw you missed jongin’s call and texts again.

J: omg, you finally replied! is there anything you want to eat on tomorrow? i could get it if you’re coming over from work

J: we are all ok now right? 

Should you call him back? It wasn’t like you were completely okay yet, you couldn’t imagine how it would like seeing him tomorrow. He was surely still that jongki you knew, but he was also kai.

Thinking to leave the rest for tomorrow to think about, you just replied 

Y: there’s nothing i really want, just get whatever you like:)

Back at home, for the 3rd night in a row, you stayed up like a fan girl again, watching all of EXO ladders, their concert videos. You squealed and fangirled over them like a teenage girl. The more you watched, the more you started falling harder for them.

---

A halfday shift always makes your day go by real fast. You were standing outside jongin’s door. You were suddenly reminded of the times you watched 100 days my prince with him and talked about D.O. who he probably knows 1000x better than you do. And how you asked if he was a kai fan. Oh gawd, you wanted to jump into a hole. Feeling a little nervous and a little awkward and hella embarrassed, you didn’t want to press the door bell.

Finally pressing the door bell, you waited for barely half a minute, which felt like eternity before he opened the door. You could even feel your palms sweating. 

‘Annyeong Y/N! Come in quickly!’

You didn’t reply him immediately, neither did you move an inch yet.  The smile on his face slowly faded and he just looked at you, starting to chew on his lips. 

Seeing his face once again, in real life, your heart skipped a beat. You knew it wasn’t because he was kai, but because he was still jongki, that someone special to you.

You quickly smiled back at him the moment you got out of your thoughts. He let out the breath that he has been holding, making you laugh. 

‘Annyeong, jong..’ you paused there, about to call him jongki 

‘annyeong jongin oppa’ it sounds weird to you, not to be calling him the name you were used to

You guess he must have been feeling a little awkward when you called him by his real name too, he scratched his head and chuckled.

‘I ordered pizza, are you hungry? let’s eat’ he gestured for you to go to the dining area and was ready to walk away

But you felt you had to talk to him first about this, 

‘oppa, can we talk?’ 

He turned around to face you, he nodded slowly

‘sure..’

You walked over to him, leaving a comfortable space between the both of you. 

He avoided your eye contact as you started

‘so... EXO Kai huh?’

‘...y/n, i.. you should know i have no intentions to hide anything from you deliberately, i was ready to tell you anytime. but i also thought you would react in a ‘pleasant surprise’ way rather than a ‘nasty shock’ received, so i just let it be’

He looked at you with sincerity in his beautiful eyes which showed how bad he felt. But you honestly just wanted to clear the air and lighten up the mood

‘actually, I just wanted to tell you that... I became an EXOL!’

You exclaimed and laughed. His eyes widened and stared at you like you were out of your mind, before bursting into laughter too.

But his laughter soon turned to sobs, and he rubbed his eyes profusely, which got you stunned

‘I... I thought I messed up our friendship, our relationship. And I really missed you, I didn’t want our us to end like this.....’ he said in between sobs and almost sounded like he was wailing

‘We haven’t even started...! Y/N, you scared me when you didn’t even reply at all! I thought you didn’t want to contact me anymore!’ He give you a light push on your shoulder as he emotionally spilled out all his thoughts

Though you were really confused, it was heart wrenching to see him cry so hard. You quickly put your arms around his waist and have him a hug.

‘Oppa, I’m sorry for the past few days I ignored you. I was just trying to figure how to handle the weight of the truth that you’re EXO Kai. Hahah, I’m so confused at your reaction right now you know.’

Calming down, but still sounding nasal he said

‘I’m going to make you stay here today until I’m convinced that you don’t hate me for being kai.

Oh and that you won’t go MIA on me again if you found out some other kai stuff’

Breaking away from the hug, he grabbed onto your shoulders

‘Y/N I like you, I really like you, so don’t leave my life please’

His impromptu confession got you feeling shy, you didn’t know what to do , but merely nodded in response.

Feeling all bright again he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the house.

You were glad it was as if nothing has changed, except that you probably became the luckiest fangirl alive just like this.

———

This fic went through so many content changes, I’m so glad I finished writing this! For those that waited for this part, I hope it wasn’t too underwhelming:,) feel like there’s definitely still a lot for me to work on as a new writer.

Also just dropping a note to say this would most probably be my last fic tell after may! Please check out of my other fics in the meantime too:) Hopefully I’ll be back with better writings !

[aradias-crypt]

BH with a hero s/o headcanons

He would try killing you at first

Surely this one was obvious, no one is disillusioned enough to believe the source of all evil in the world would not attempt to off all heroes he sees.

And as a hero, it would be your ultimate goal to free the people from the dangers of villains, especially Black Hat. While you normally patrol your designated city, there has been the occasional meeting with Black Hat himself (usually when he is out collecting debts or working with contemporaries).

“If it isn’t my favorite little nuisance,” Black Hat grins, waving away his subordinates. He didn't need them for this. “Did my last attack teach you nothing? I may enjoy this little game of ours but I will not hold back any one.”

You land on the ground softly, “Should I take that as a compliment?”

“Of course, it is an honor for any human scum to be acknowledged by me.” He steps to the side, blocking your path as his soldiers enter the building behind him.

“What are you up to?”

“I would go on about my magnificent plans but that would be quite silly of me, don’t you think?”

“It would make my life so much easier.” Crystals grow from your arms, forming a shield and sword.

He smirks, shadows spilling from his body.

“But I enjoy w̴̘̲̻͈̌̀́͗͑̂̇͝at̸̢̟͓̗͓̥͈̮̼̃̄̔̄̊c̷͔̪̺̘͓̪͙͈̅͐̀̀͛͗̋̓̊̎͠h̸̡̟̞̖͍̲͊̋̀in̵͈͖͇̜̱̮̑̋̍͂͂̚g̷̮͐ ̵̧̧̧͈͍̜̫̜̬̫̮̮̔͝ỹ̵͕̗̤̍̍̊ő̷̡͕̻͙̤̤̮̣̉̂̂̂́͜ͅù̸̠̟̜̳̩̠̫̗̼̩͇̐͌͒̈́̊̍͆̑͊̚̕͜ ̵̼̲̗͓̖̒́s̵̨̢̼̟̼̬̳͇͍̩̙̓̅͒̏͌̓͂͆͜ư̷̪̞̟͖̓̒̂͂͊̓̔̇̀͜f̷̡̺̦̭̺̩͎̤̯̣̝̫̄͐̋f̶̛̫̗̺̟͖̓̉̀̋̓͆̕e̶̛̺̻̫̫̩̱̺͕͎̲͍̺͋̌͗̎̑̊͊́̃r̸̰͓̳̹͈̹̖͌̒̋̑͒͘~̵͎̯̳̓̆!̴̦̹͔̖̞̠̱̘̪̿̓͝”

He would protect you from other villains

It isn’t because he *shudders* likes you, but because you are the only hero who can amuse him. If another villain were to kill you, not only would you shame him for dying at such a lower villains hands and not his own, but because he would be bored.

You brace yourself for impact, forming a thick shell of diamond around you as the villain on the outside blasts you with gamma rays. You herded the civilians in the area far away, propping up lead walls to try and shield them from the radiation, but it left you with little energy and proper material to protect yourself.

‘They’re safe,’ you think to yourself, ‘That’s what matters.’

Slowly, you begin to feel nauseating waves pierce through your barrier.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to the the damage that will soon be done to your body.

‘This is it.’

“I’m starting to believe you truly have a death wish little hero.” A gravelly voice rasps from outside.

You look up, eyes wide as the light shining through disappears for a moment.

The villain screams, their attack ending abruptly.

You wait in silence.

The light slowly shines through again, but a shadow approaches from the outside. The outline of a hand reaches out and raps on your barrier.

“You can come out now,” Black Hat chuckles, his voice full of arrogance, “I took care of that pathetic trash. You’ve nothing to fear out here but me.”

Slowly, you would stop fighting

Eventually, you would get used to each other, no longer fighting like before. Meeting in public, you’d bicker more than swap fists. It would come to the point where other heroes would fight with his lackeys while you two debate whether the import taxes and tariffs war is good for anyone. Though Black Hat is rather relaxed seeing as how he isn’t “required” to pay them.

“I don’t understand how you can be so calm about this,” you blow on your cup of hot chocolate as you walk beside the ageless being, “you’re a businessman, this would cut your profits if people don’t pay for your goods right?”

He places a hand on his chest, “A being like me is exempt from such mortal affairs little one; I don’t need to hand over my money to anyone.” He hisses at the children gawking at him, his eye flashing red.

You shake your head, sipping your drink slowly. “You know, I forget you’re like this sometimes.”

“Powerful, awe inspiring, nightmare inducing?” He grins.

“Petty.”

You wouldn’t officially end your rival status

Black Hat is the paragon of evil and the standard all villains should strive towards almost being, it would not look good for him to be so... civil with a hero. The same thing goes for you, you may be used to him and a bit.. fond of him, but you couldn’t leave the League of Heroes! You were one of their top heroes! And you still were drawn to justice, no matter how much you enjoyed Black Hats satirical humor and general company, you didn’t believe villains were right.

This was something you two could agree on. Neither of you could afford to ruin your public appearance.

A secret relationship

Not that either of you ever made it “official” or anything, but you both agree to keeping your public and private lives separate. On the outside, you both would resume your fights and do your own things, but away from the public you could act however you wanted. This leads t the more domestic side of your “courting”.

Visiting your home

After a faux battle leaving you with a stinging gash, you decide to finally show bring your.. partner? Friend? Beau?? to your home.

“Its smaller than I expected.” Black Hat surveys the room around him, lifting up a bottle of mineral water from your table, “Do they not pay their heroes enough?”

You snatch the bottle from him, and swap it for a bottle of disinfectant, “They aren’t cheap like you. I just prefer something cozier.” You stick your tongue at him before drinking. The water soothes the building fever in your body and eases some of the aches and soreness you received from getting smacked around by him.

He clicks his tongue in distaste, “I could heal you ten times faster than mortal medicine.”

“You don’t seem like the healer type. And definitely not for free.” You walk to your bathroom and pull out your medical kit, taking out a roll of gauze, needle and wire. Turning around, you bump into Black Hat who steals the needle from your hand.

“You won’t be needing any of that,” he snaps his fingers, causing the items in your arms to disappear. “Except this.” He holds the needle in his mouth like a toothpick,”I will heal you in exchange for dinner. A good bargain considering the wasted use of my talent.”

You smile, “I’ll cook, as long as the hole in my arm doesn’t grow teeth due to your healing.”

He smirks and stalks down the hall to the kitchen, “That’s not a bad idea, I quite like it.”

You follow after him, “Do it and the first thing it eats is that car of yours.”

“I have plenty to spare.”

Visiting the manor

It doesn’t take much to convince Black Hat into taking you to the manor. Ever the show off, Black Hat makes sure the house is in its top condition before bringing you along with him. Seeing how Hat Island is stock full of villains and is home of Black Hat himself, no hero has ever gotten close to the island and come out unscathed. Until you.

This means you are wholly unprepared for the sight awaiting you.

“This sums you up pretty well.” You stifle a laugh. Before you is the home of evil incarnate. The lair of the monster children are told of at night. The domain of something so evil, he could destroy the planet and dust himself off as if nothing ever happened.

That entity’s home. Is a hat.

He sweeps you inside,”Of course, everything I own must have my stamp of approval.”

“Is the airplane also your stamp of approval?”

He grumbles,”Ignore that.”

- - -

“Your home feels a bit more like a museum and you the curator, but I admit it is very interesting.” You sit at his desk, admiring the artifacts lining the walls. You were especially interested in a piece of what seemed to be a spear.

Noticing your gaze Black Hat chuckles, “I take pieces of history, much of what you see now is because of me.”

“Including the plague?”

A sigh, “Good times.”

The rest of your time is full of questions and his retelling of history (though you take the stories of heroes with a grain of salt).

Final piece to the puzzle

There is no sound of wedding bells- and you highly doubt you could convince him to enter a Church or going to the government for that- so the two of you never truly get “married”. But along the way of your partnership, you both begin to realize that you are very, very fragile. So Black Hat creates a solution. No need to thank him~.

You lift a brow at the small box Black Hat has slid across his desk to you. Picking it up, you pause before opening it.

“Is this another shrunken head because I still haven’t gotten over the last one you gave me.”

He doesn’t look up from his newspaper, “Open it.”

“If something springs out I’m not making dinner.” You open the box.

A signet ring lay inside with the black hat symbol on the top.

“I..assume there is a reason behind this?” You take the ring out, twirling it between your fingers.

He folds his paper and approaches you. You look at him quizzically as he grasps your hand and holds the ring up for you to see.

“This, my little mortal, will keep you from harm.”

He slips the band onto your finger and pats your head, “I cant have you dying on me just yet.”

You lean forward on your palm, “With you here, what could hurt me?”

He leans in with a wicked, vulgar grin and eyes ablaze with want.

“Me.”

[strangerthingsharrington]

Can’t Fight This Feeling

-4-

I had been walking through Starcourt for as long as I possibly could. I was trying to give Dustin his space like he had asked me. But it was getting later into the afternoon and I needed to know what was going on, so I headed back to Scoops Ahoy to find my brother.

I walked in and saw it completely empty. Robin and Steve weren't behind the counter. And Dustin wasn't anywhere.

Warmth instantly flooded my body. Where was Dustin?

I walked near all the tables and booths and peered into each one, but there was nobody.

"Shit," I muttered.

I dropped my bags next to the counter and ran a hand over my face.

I was going to have to find someone in security and have them barricade the mall or something to find him.

Why couldn't he just listen to me and stay put? Robin was supposed to watch him. Hell. Steve said he would watch him too. But then again...the two of them were no where to be found.

Then I heard the voices. They weren't even attempting to be discreet. 

I snuck behind the counter and went to the little door, avoiding the circular window. I put my ear against it and heard some chattering along with a recording playing.

"The week is long doesn't make any sense," I heard Dustin saying.

What? I thought. What week is long? What the hell was he talking about?

"Listen mini dingus, my free translation of Russian is correct," I heard a female voice tell him.

Robin? One of my best friends was involved with this too? The girl that I met during band that always had my back was involved in this? If Steve was back there too I was going to lose my mind.

"Yeah but what week are they talking about? They could be talking about the week was long because they were busy at work," I heard Steve add.

My eyes went wide and anger was starting to take over. Robin and Steve were involved in something that my own brother wouldn't fill me in on? Robin hated Steve, not only because of how he treated so many of us, but because Tammy Thompson was interested in him and Robin was interested in her.

I heard the click of the recorder and someone else was speaking in the same language I heard coming from the radio tower the night before.

I placed my open palm against the door and pushed it open forcefully, letting it slam against the wall, I walked into the back room and put my hands on my hips and looked at the three wide eyed teenagers in front of me.

"Yeah, Dustin. What week is long?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

His eyes were huge, he wasn't blinking but I saw him look out of the corner of his eye at Steve, who had gone pale.

I looked to Robin who had gone red, I raised my eyebrows at her and she lifted her hands in mock surrender.

"I only got involved with this today," she said, putting her hands down slowly.

I nodded once, and looked back to my little brother who was looking down at the table.

"Dustin? I'm waiting?" I said to him impatiently.

His eyes shot back up to me, "Lou, just walk away. Trust me. You don't want to be involved in this."

I raised my eyebrows, "I'm sorry, but Robin and him do want to be involved in listening to the Russians speak?"

"Listen," he started, "this is extremely serious. I intercepted a Russian communication last night from Cerebro...I just...needed some help with translating it."

My face softened, "And you couldn't ask me for help?"

He shrugged lightly and his face reddened a bit, "I just...didn't want to get you involved...I dont want you hurt or anything...if there's something I can do to keep you safe then I'll do it."

Tears welled up in my eyes, "Telling me is how you could've kept me safe, Dust. I will do anything to keep you safe, Dustin. Absolutely anything in this world. Including getting involved in figuring out some Russian translations," I explained before offering him a small smile.

A tiny smile took over his face, "Well...you and Robin are probably the two smartest people I know...besides me but," he added in with a small laugh that made me smile, "we've got the first line translated but...can't figure out the rest yet."

I walked over to the table where the recorded was, along with a notebook with lots of scribbling.

"Do you have the Russian alphabet?" I asked, running a finger over the note page.

Steve cleared his throat, "Yeah, it's on the board behind you."

I turned to look and saw it hanging on the wall, before turning back to face them all.

"Okay...got another chair?"

——

It was Robin's turn to serve up some ice cream to Lucas' little sister Erica and some of her friends and Dustin had just left to go use a pay phone to call mom to tell her we'd be home later on, leaving just me and Steve alone in the back room.

"This is impossible," Steve said, dropping the pencil he was holding on the notebook. He ran a hand through his hair and slouched forward in his chair.

I looked up from the notebook paper in front of me that I had copied the alphabet into. I had some notes littered across the page trying to figure out the second line of the message.

"No one said it would be easy," I muttered absentmindedly as I reached to replay the recording.

He left out a small breathy laugh, "Yeah that's true I guess," he stated.

I hummed, "We've already got one line," I reminded him, "we just need to...focus."

"I wish that Dustin had just reached his girlfriend last night and not picked up some crazy message that we need to translate."

I smiled and looked over at him, he was facing the ceiling, "Trust me, I do too."

He turned his head to look at me with a smile, "Well I'm sure that cracking a Russian code will make for a killer what I did this summer essay."

I actually laughed at that, as did Steve, "I'm sure."

He sat up straighter in his chair and hit the play button again, "Yeah, forget being hero's I'm just looking for a good story to tell."

I shook my head, as I listened to the transmission again.

I looked at the alphabet and began making some light lines on the paper trying to map out what I thought the second line was.

"That sounds so familiar," Steve mused leaning in closer to the speaker.

"What?" I questioned.

"The sounds," he said closing his eyes, "I've heard it before but I cant figure out from where."

"You listen to Russian music in your spare time?" I asked. I was trying to listen to hear for the same words in Russian that we had already decoded.

"It's my guilty pleasure," Steve told me.

I grinned and looked over at him, only to see him with a small smile gracing his face looking back at me.

"Then this should all be easy peasy for you," I told him.

He chuckled and shrugged, "I'm a bit rusty."

I hummed and began tapping my pencil on my page, trying to focus more on the task at hand.

Steve cleared his throat, "So, Louise...were you in the same classes as me?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, of course he didn't even remember if I was in any of his classes or anything. I was just another faceless blip on the radar of Hawkins High to him.

"No," I stated quickly, "I'm going into my senior year this year...you and Robin had some classes together I think."

I looked over at his only to see him looking back at me, "Dustin said you and Robin are best friends?"

I nodded awkwardly, "Yeah? We have been for years now...Why?"

His face turned red instantly and he ran a hand through his hair before nodding, "No actual reason, just wondering. Dustin mentioned it and I didn't know before is all."

I looked over at him quickly before looking back down to my notebook, "Yeah...I mean, I don't go around with a secret handshake with her or anything," I told him with a small smirk on my face.

I looked back over at him and saw him trying to hide the smile that was trying to take over his face, "Well I'm sorry that Dustin and I are better friends than you and Robin and have a secret handshake. Dustin is honestly, probably, my best friend."

He looked away from me as he said those words and I felt some tingling in my stomach. That was actually...almost sweet.

"Robin and I have been friends for years...we met in band in middle school. She sat next to me during band practice like...twelve years ago and the rest is history," I explained looking at him. His attention came back to me as soon as I started talking.

He nodded and smiled. An actual genuine smile that I don't remember seeing from Steve. Well ever.

"That's pretty cool. I huh, didn't, you know...realize that Robin was in a couple classes with me over the years, wanted to make sure I didn't...forget that we were in the same classes or something too," he stumbled through his little explanation. But at least he was trying his best to be genuine and honest.

But...that didn't stop me from wanting to scream at the top of my lungs that he had a hand in making some of my high school memories terrible. He never tried to stop any of the things that Carol and Tommy did. Carol would always say things about me, and say things to me that were so mean, and Steve never tried to stop it.

After Tommy told me that Steve had a crush on me, that became the thing that everyone in school talked about for a long time. I became the girl that actually believed for a moment that Steve Harrington had a crush on her. It was just...awful, I mean...the absolute worst.

"Lou?"

I was brought back by Steve saying my name gently.

I looked away from the whiteboard with the Russian alphabet and faced him.

"Sorry?"

"You okay?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah," I told him, "just spaced for a minute."

He opened his mouth to say something else before the backdoor swung open, revealing Robin looking irritated with her ice cream scoop in her hand.

"It's your turn!" Robin whined, walking over to Steve and forcing the scooper in his hand.

Steve looked at me wide eyed and I grinned and shrugged my shoulders before looking up at Robin.

"But Lou and I were working...we almost cracked the second line!"

"Hmm...were we actually close?" I mused.

Robin laughed as Steve shook his head. He begrudgingly got up and walked over to the swinging door.

He looked back quickly, "Let me know if you need me," he said before disappearing to the front.

I smiled over at Robin, "Why is this the weirdest day of my life?"

She smiled back at me and patted my head, "I've been worndering that myself."

She hit play on the recorder and flipped open her own little notebook and began listening intently.

My mind kept thinking back to what Steve had said about Dustin, and how he considered him to be his best friend. I don't know why that affected me so much. I was actually really touched by that, because it seemed really heartfelt and genuine. Not like the original King of Hawkins High.

"When did Steve become nice?" I asked suddenly.

I saw out of the corner of my eye Robin stopping her writing of her paper, "What?" she asked.

I looked fully at her, "Nothing...he just seems different?"

She smirked at me, "I've gotten to know him lately, and I can confirm that yes...he's not as big of a douchbag as he was in school. Still trying to hit on every girl that he sees but that's guys I guess."

"Has he had any luck?"

"He sucks," she said bluntly.

I smirked and closed my eyes, "So he's still the guy that will flirt with anyone then."

She laughed a bit, "If you can call what he's been doing flirting...I think he's just bored and lonely."

I nodded and fiddled with my pencil, twirling it between my fingers.

"I can see why him and Dustin are friends though. I mean, Steve had been talking about Dust coming back for weeks. He seems to really enjoy being around him," Robin mentioned.

"Yeah, I mean, Steve said that he considered Dusty to be his best friend basically and...yeah I thought that was pretty nice," I stated quietly.

"Hey," Robin said gently, I turned my head to look at her, "you don't have to have such a thick wall up now. Especially with me here and especially with Dustin here when it comes to Steve. He was the biggest asshole in school. But he doesn't seem to be the same guy...maybe Nancy breaking up with him like...shaped him up, you know?

"He's still a bit snarky and says dumb shit sometimes...but I'd take that over his King Steve bullshit any day," she concluded quietly with a small smile.

I grinend and nudged her knee with mine, "Let's crack a secret Russian code first, then we'll come back to the new Steve Harrington," I joked.

She laughed and nodded just as the door swung open to reveal Dustin holding a drink from the Orange Julius a few store fronts over.

"Mom said fine and to let her know if we wanted a ride home," he said distractedly as he sat in the chair on the other side of me heavily.

I furrowed my brows, "Couldn't ask if we might have wanted a drink?" I questioned.

"Did you ask if I wanted grapes this morning?" he wondered without looking at me.

I flicked his arm which made him yelp and look at me.

"You were sleeping, ya goof!"

"And? You were here in the back room."

I quirked an eyebrow, "So does that mean you asked Steve if he wanted one?" I asked sarcastically.

Dustin seemed to have a glint in his eyes, "Steve!" he called loudly before bringing the straw to his mouth.

My mouth popped open, "You little shit head..."

The swinging door opened and Steve popped his head in, "What?" he asked before bringing his own Orange Julius straw to his mouth for a drink.

At the exact same time Robin and I picked up our notebooks and smacked Dustin's leg, which only made him laugh.

"I'm your sister!" I exclaimed but couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"Go get your own!" Dustin grinned.

"Do you want mine?"

I looked over at Steve who had an unreadable expression on his face. He was holding the door open with one hand and holding out his cup in front of him with the other.

"What?" I asked confused.

His face flushed but he continued, "Dustin should've asked you...you can have mine if you want? I've barely had any. I, I , I  mean...if you want?" he spluttered.

I felt the corners of my lips twitch as I tried to hold back the smile, "No, I'm...I'm good, Steve thanks."

He brought back the outstretched arm that was holding the drink back into his side, "Yeah, I mean, no problem," he said hastily before taking a step away from the door, disappearing from view.

I bit the inside of my cheek and rolled my eyes as I let the little smile take over for just a moment, before I looked to Dustin.

"Well that was weird," he cringed.

I, again, flicked his arm, "Let's keep working on this stuff, okay?"

——

It had been another hour and Robin managed to decode another line.

"The silver cat feeds," she confirmed with a nod.

"The week is long. The silver cat feeds...this is gibberish," I stated.

"It's a code, it's not supposed to make sense," Dustin retorted.

"So we have to finish cracking the code and then crack the actual meaning," I stated with a small nod, "we can do it."

The piercing sound of the bell rang out from the front of the store.

"Steve should be there," Robin muttered before getting off the chair and going to the partition window and sliding it open forcefully.

She looked around before turning to face me and my brother, "The dingus isn't there," she declared before closing the partition window and walking out to the front quickly.

"Where did he go?" Dustin asked standing up.

"Maybe he's fixing his hair," I quipped.

He looked down at me with narrowed eyes, "Oh calm down," I told him, "he's a big boy, he's fine."

Dustin was just about to take a step towards the door when Robin swung it open with wide eyes and a small smile, looking pointedly at me, she walked in quickly and leaned against the wall.

Steve walked in a few seconds later holding a cup from Orange Julius. He walked up to the table and placed the drink in front of me, setting the straw next to it.

"I wasn't sure which one you'd like, huh...so I just got an Orange Berry. Yeah, it's my favourite so I just you know...figured...you might...like it..." he confessed a bit awkwardly, as he rubbed the back of his neck continuously.

My mouth fell open, "I ...wow, thanks, Steve. That's really...unexpected. But I'm...yeah thank you. How much do I owe you?" I asked.

He looked at me questioningly before he let a small smile take over his face, "No, what? Nothing. My treat, Louise."

"Thanks, Steve," I repeated, feeling the warm feeling on my face and spreading into my chest.

He smiled and let out a little chuckle, "Yeah! Yeah, no problem! I hope you like it," he said, before backing out of the room.

I smirked and looked down at the table, I picked up the straw and pushed in through the lid, pushing until it reached the bottom of the cup.

I was trying to wait until my face didn't feel as warm, but I knew the two people were watching me.

I looked over at Robin, she was still grinning but had the pad of her thumb between her teeth. I took a peak over at Dustin who's mouth had popped open and was looking at me.

"What?" I asked quietly.

He shook his head but still had a dumbfounded look on his face, "This is the Twilight Zone," he decided.

I patted his shoulder, I heard Robin take her seat on the other side of me once again, "Come on, let's focus, Dusty."

He rolled his eyes at my use of his nickname before pressing play on the recorder once again.

I picked try up the cup of juice and brought the straw to my lips and taking a drink. It was sweet and a little tart mixed with the fruity flavours.

I think I would agree with Steve, it was my going to be my favourite too.

Title credit to REO Speedwagon and GIF credit to owner

[slothgiirl]

forever isn’t for everyone part 11

We sit down at a McDonalds. The Chinese theater visible from the window. 

I can't help but notice that bags under his eyes are gone as he sits across from me. Cheeks flushed red, for once his skin wasn't quite so pale.

While the first floor is still moderately trafficked by people, both families and people out for a fun night, the second floor is devoid of anyone other than us. A fact I'm sure Alex was counting on. 

"What the fuck," I utter, taking a seat across from him. There were no other words, as I tried to wrap my mind around the idea that-that vampires exist and that Alex was apparently one. I fixed my gaze on his bambi eyes, trying to reconcile the imagine imprinted into my mind of crimson irises. 

"El," Alex tries, clenching his jaw as he rests his palms on the plastic tabletop. 

"No," I shake my head, not daring to take my eyes of Alex. "Just-just explain this . . .I don't know." There probably wasn't anything he could say that would rationalize this, that would make me stop freaking out. 

I think of all the time we spent together, in the night, in the dark. 

He reaches a hand out towards me, an openness to his expression, movements slow. His lips cracked open, a tad bit, as if he's trying to think of the right words to say. 

I flinch. 

Seeing the blood, the girl, all over again. Blood on his mouth, on the lips I had kissed so eagerly once upon a time. 

Alex pulls back, curling in on himself, shoulders hunching over, letting his hair fall into his eyes without reaching to push in back. He frowns, his gaze falling from you to the table. It almost makes me feel bad, but then I remember how we had left things. It takes all the sting out of his expression. 

"Just-just start somewhere," I ask him. I can't take this tension anymore. Maybe it'll help. 

Having some context. 

"Alright," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. "Alright. Guess I gotta start somewhere." Alex runs a hand through his hair, before meeting my eyes once more.  

"I-uh. . .I met Miles ah couple of years ago. He'd just gotten into London. With tha band." Alex sits up straighter. Swallowing thickly. "I-I dunno. It's Miles. There was this girl playing a tune. And I was there by me self. . .I've been by me self for a decade by then. Miles just. . .just uh was suddenly there. It was easy from there."

"And you told him," I fill in, unable to keep the hurt out of my voice. I don't know if I would have handled it any better if he'd told me before. And it wasn't my secret-I wasn't entitled to anything. 

But god had I fallen for this man. 

Even now, I keep waiting to hear something that will clean the slate of the last few months.

Maybe if he just wipes it all away. . .

It's a nice thought, but it wouldn't be real. 

"Miles," Alex pauses, bringing his hand to his chin. "Miles figured it out. A couple of months later. Guess it was pretty suspicious that I never go out in the day." He laughs humorlessly.

For the first time, you wonder how old he actually is. When was the last time he'd seen the sun rise?

"Well now I feel stupid."

"No," Alex cuts in, his hand reaching to grasp mine once more, his touch as electric against my skin as it was the first time, even a brush enough to set me aflame, "no. You weren't stupid El. I could see. . .I could see you start to put things together. And-I didn't want you tah know. I wanted. . ." His cheeks turn scarlett, as he ducks his head down. 

"I thought we could have more time together El," he states, looking up through his eyelashes, "Without any complications."

And wasn't that the understatement of the year. 

The truth was I had begun to become suspicious, and if we hadn't, if he hadn't been an ass, I probably would've put things together. I mean if Miles could, then do could I. 

"You still didn't have to be an ass," I note, looking at my hand, held in his. 

"I'm sorry," he utters, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand, "it was stupid but I thought if you hated me, you'd never want to see me again."

"You underestimated my professionalism," I retort, smiling sadly. 

"That I did," Alex nods, the edges of his lips turning up, eyes twinkling in the harsh fluorescent lights. 

"When-you still haven't explained the whole dracula thing," I point out, because there was no way my feelings, whatever that mess was right now, was going to distract me from the fact that bloody vampires exist. 

Alex laughs bitterly, lips curving into a sardonic smile. "That's certainly one way to put it."

I shrug, pulling away, and crossing my hands against my chest, tasing a brow and stating, "well?"

He nods. "It's. . .its ya know. . .blood and chance encounters."

I roll my eyes. "How can you be such a good writer and so bad at storytelling."

"Just give me a moment love," Alex smiles, the bite softening, "it's-its just a lifestyle by now. I've got to drink a bit of blood every few days. Can't go out in the sun." He frowns. "I loved summer days. Loved the warmth of the sun, just made me feel happy ya know. After months of rain."

"I'm sorry," I tell him, trying to imagine never feeling the heat of the sun, waking up and knowing I could finally wear a dress without ten layers. 

"It's alright," he states, "I've had entire lifetimes to get over it."

"So you're really an old man underneath the baby face," I note, smiling despite the turmoil of emotions, of loss and want and just feeling completely lost as I try to come to terms with this.

He chuckles, "I do still get carded outside of London pretty often."

"And you're really?"

"I was born in 1811," he admits. 

"Wow," I gasp, eyes widening. That would-he was more than two hundred years old. "How did-how do you even end up a v-vampire?"

Alex shrugs, "I was never trying. Dracula hadn't even been written yet. It just sort of happened."

"Alright but how? Wait no go back," I tell him, "Dracula hadn't been written! Did people know about vampires like the whole twilight craze?"

"More of a folklore thing. They were still going around about witches. . .," he looks up thoughtfully, "guess witches were all the rage back then."

"So you can brainwash people. . .what else?"

" 's not exactly brainwashing. Just suggestion. I can't. . .I cant make people do anything they don't want to do. And they all like forgetting the nasty bits."

I frown. "You mean the part where you drink their blood?"

"Yeah," he smirks, "that part. They just want to have the good time." I purse my lips. Thinking back on all the times we'd spend together. All the nights. 

"I never-I never did it tah you El," Alex whispers, "I would never. . .I love you. I know ya probably don't want to hear it right now, but I do."

I look away, eyes stinging as they fill with tears. It's Alex and a month has done nothing to-it's still too soon and shit. It's not something I want to deal with when all I can see is Alex's blood coated lips. "Just tell me more."

"I can't do any of that bat shit. Or mist. Complete fookin lies. So is sleeping in a coffin. But-but the mirror thing is true. Rare. . .now. Silver backed mirrors aren't too common. The sun will burn me. Bram Stoker made the garlic and crucifix bit up. I have fangs but nothing noticeable."

I raise a brow, my gaze immediately going to his mouth. 

"I'm careful. Can’t tell unless you’re up close and know what to look for," he laughs, noticing my stare. "And my eyes turn red when I. . .uh-feed. As I'm sure you noticed."

"Alex-," I start, breaking off as I realize I have no clue what to say. What to do with this information. 

"El," he says, his gaze steady. "ya don't have to dea with any of this. Just say the word-"

"I'd rather know." I think about all the people I've ever known. I don't think I've ever met another vampire. Looking back, Alex's habits stick out, when you know what to look for. Not having any food. 

"El. I do mean it. I love you."

"Please don't."

He sighs, "it was wrong of me to think we could make things work. That we could have something normal when I’ve long left that behind. It was selfish, but I can't make myself regret it."

I swallow thickly. "I need time to think."

"El?"

"Please," I tell him, "I need time to think. You can't just-you can't expect me to know what to say."

"Alright El," he smiles softly and it's like my heart is breaking all over again. His brown eyes, that weren't actually brown at all. 

I lean in, "can I see?"

Alex's gaze flickers around the second floor. Still as empty as when we had sat down, the voices of customers downstairs drifting up. Then his gaze meets mine, first the hazelnut colour dusted with flecks of gold, then in a blink, the dark crimson colour, like a vintage garnet, deep and rich and absorbing in all the light. 

My hand reaches to him. Fingertips ghosting the skin of his cheekbones, resting on his temples, seeking him out with a desire that has not abated. His eyes flutter shut.  

Unmoving in my touch. 

I must be insane, to have seen him, to have him bare before me and still want him all the same. 

This time, when I lean in, I tilt my head to his, meeting his lips with mine. It's no, intense nicholas sparks moment of reunion, of the scene before the credits when everything works out, just a quick kiss on his lips. 

The surprise is clear in his features, Alex's eyes blown wide. 

"We should start over, without world changing secrets."

He nods, a tiny bob if his head, his lips still touching mine. Neither of us willing to pull away first. "Anything you want El."

[fandom-smut-shots]

Lance McClain - Selfie

Selfie – Lance McClain

SuicidalConnorMurphy

A/N: Male!reader. High school AU.

 Words: 2,357

           Lance McClain was the Selfie King. If he were to be published in the Garrison High yearbook, his trademark would be “Took the Most Selfies.” Nobody particularly minded it, though. They teased the Cuban on more than one occasion, but the taunts never had any heat to them. Lance had a rather impressive Instagram following, considering his feed consisted of selfie after selfie after selfie, sprinkled with a few photos of his favorite beverages from the local coffee shop.

         As his best friend, you were a frequent occurrence in his postings. “Hanging with the best boyo!” was a common caption on Lance’s photos, followed by your username and an onslaught of hashtags. You desperately wanted to be more than the official Best Friend, but you supposed that was better than being a background character.

           One of the reasons that Kaltenecker’s Café was Lance’s favorite caffeine destination was because you were a barista there on the weekends. You usually worked the morning shift, leaving your afternoons open for hanging out and catching up on any homework you didn’t finish during the week.

         Every Saturday and Sunday, at ten in the morning, like clockwork, Lance was there, chatting up your coworkers while you prepared his drink of choice. In the spring, it was an iced Americano with cream and vanilla syrup. Summer was a cinnamon chai milkshake. Autumn was a pumpkin spice latte. Winter was a hot chai latte, dirty if he was studying.

         It was ten a.m. on Saturday, and you had just clocked in for your shift. Your hands wound around your back, securing your apron as you padded out to the front counter. The café was quiet, so you set about prepping your station and brewing yourself a beverage to keep your energy up. The owner was a sweetheart, and one of the first things he’d told you during training was that you were welcome to help yourself to any drink in the café provided that you prepared it yourself, kept it out of customer view, and didn’t let it go to waste.

         The bell above the door chimed, altering you to a new customer.

         “Good morning. Welcome to Kaltenecker’s,” you called without looking up from the counter. Tanned skin appeared in your peripheral vision, drawing your gaze upwards. A smile settled on your lips as Lance leaned against the counter, signature smirk on his lips, one hand raised and poised into a finger gun.

         “Good morning, handsome,” he grinned. Fondness fluttered in your stomach, only to be crushed by the reality that you were just his friend. Though the entire campus knew that Lance was a proud bisexual, you couldn’t help but doubt that you would be even close to his type. He flirted with everyone, it seemed. Everyone except for you.

         “Hey, Lance,” you greeted, already punching his order into the register. “Your usual?”

         “You know it,” he beamed. “Extra shot, please? Finals are coming up.”

         “Don’t remind me,” you groaned. Once the brunet paid for his drink, tipping as usual, you set about concocting it.

         “Study buddies?” Lance inquired with a wiggle of his thin cinnamon brows. The two of you always prepped for midterms and finals together, though your benefits fell short. You always got distracted by his midnight blue eyes and sun-kissed skin, leading you conveniently forget every single chapter you quizzed each other on.

         “Of course,” you agreed without missing a beat. Failing finals was worth quality time with the boy you’d never admit your gay attraction to.

         “Awesome!” He shot you a toothy grin, and the butterflies that had been dancing in your abdomen exploded into homosexual confetti. You slid his drink across the counter with practiced ease, watching as he reached for it before you even fully released the cup. Your fingers brushed against his, and it felt like a thousand volts shot through your skin. You struggled to stifle a shiver, trying to keep your gay heart under control.

         Lance turned his back to you, holding his drink in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He tapped the screen to activate his camera before hoisting the device into the air, effectively capturing the both of you in the screen’s dimensions.

         “Say cheese!” the brunet declared, hardly giving you a chance to smile before he tapped the center button to snap the photo. Satisfied, he shoved his phone into his pocket and took a large swig of his beverage

         He moaned loudly in approval, and the noise traveled straight to your lower regions.

         “You’re the best, (y/n),” he stated. “My place after work?”

         You nodded. “I’ll be here. Need me to bring my books?”

         He offered you a sheepish chuckle, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Heh, yeah. I may have left mine in my locker today.”

         You rolled your eyes, a fond smile on your lips. Lance McClain was the epitome of unprepared.

         “See you later,” he said with a wink, shooting you one final finger gun gesture before spinning on his heel and sauntering out of the café. You chewed your lip, staring after him like a lost puppy.

           When you took your first break, you withdrew your phone from your pocket to peek at your notifications. It came as no surprise that Instagram was at the top of the list, alerting you that Lance had tagged you in a post. You unlocked your phone and tapped on the note, dropping your weight onto one of the metal folding chairs in the break room. Leaning back against it, your gaze was met with the photo Lance had taken earlier, displaying himself, his drink, and you in the background. Scrolling down, you allowed yourself to read the caption.

           Got to see this cutie again! Look how cute u are @username! Cant wait for our study sesh later!

         #caffeine #kalteneckers #bestbud #isnthecute? #shoulditellhim? #maybenexttime

           A blush dusted your cheeks at the compliment, and you reminded yourself that this wasn’t the first time Lance had posted flirty captions in your honor. What caught your attention, though, was the hashtags. What did “should I tell him?” mean? What did Lance want to tell you? Why wasn’t he telling it?

         Ten minutes rushed by as you pondered the brunet’s words, and with a sigh, you stuffed your phone back into your pocket, returning to the world of coffee beans and soy milk.

           Nearly a week later, finals had come to an end, and the student body breathed a collective sigh of relief. Lance had passed with flying colors, thanks to your tutoring, and you were grateful that his flirting hadn’t impacted your focus.

         You met up with Lance after his last test of the day, and his first instinct was to wrap you in a hug and lift you from the ground.

         “You’re the best!” he shrieked, squeezing his arms around you. You only hoped he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was drumming.

         “How did you do?” you inquired once your feet regained contact with the floor.

         “I passed!” he beamed, taking your hands in his. “I passed everything!”

         You grinned, hoping he couldn’t feel how sweaty your palms were. “That’s amazing, Lance! I told you you were smart!”

         “Come on,” the brunet said as he draped an arm across your shoulders. “I’m taking you out for dinner to celebrate and to thank you.”

         “Oh, Lance, you don’t have to-“

         “Don’t even think about getting out of it,” he grinned. “I owe you. Without your help, I would have had to repeat the year!”

         You chuckled softly. “Well, I can’t have my best friend falling behind, now can I?”

         He led you outside to his cobalt blue Camaro, climbing into the driver’s seat while you slid into the other side. “Despacito” blared through the speakers as he drove to a nearby diner, one that the two of you were quite fond of.

         Your eyes danced across the sign that read Vrepit Sal’s Diner, and your heart warmed at the familiarity. Every year, the two of you would come to the diner to celebrate after passing midterms and finals. Lance led you inside, keeping his arm around you. The owner, Sal, waved as you entered, calling for you to sit anywhere you preferred. You followed the lean brunet to his favorite booth by the window, sliding in across from him.

         Sal approached with your favorite drinks, already knowing what the two of you would order. You had spent so many lunches at the diner, it was a wonder why neither of you worked there.

         As Sal shuffled away to prepare your food, Lance rose from his seat. You watched him with curious eyes as he gestured for you to slide further into your side of the booth. You complied, watching as he slid down beside you.

         “Selfie time!” he declared, and you laughed. You really should have seen it coming. You plastered on the calmest smile you could as Lance opened his camera, holding it at arm’s length in front of you. You rested your head on his shoulder, and with a grin, he placed his head on yours, winking at the lens. The picture snapped, and a moment later, Lance returned to his side of the booth, leaving you feeling a draft.

         His thumbs typed furiously at his phone, no doubt uploading the photo to Instagram. You sipped at your drink while you waited, knowing you would be tagged in the post and alerted when it was viewable.

         Your phone dinged, and you picked it up to check the notification. Sure enough, Instagram had informed you of a tag from Lance, and you clicked it open. On your screen sat the photo of you, edited via a bright filter, and you scrolled down to read the caption.

           Look at him!!! Isnt he adorable??? Lunch at vrepit sals!

         #lunch #yummy #vrepitsals #bestbud #cutiepie #imacoward

           Your brows furrowed in confusion at the tags, and you glanced up to question Lance about them. Sal returned with two plates of food, setting one in front of each of you. Aloud, you thanked him, but in your head, you cursed his interruption. The brunet was a disaster when asked to focus on two things at once, and as much of a chatterbox as he was, food always won out over anything else.

         With a sigh, you ate your lunch, missing the longing gaze in those midnight blue eyes sitting across from you.

           Another week passed, and prom night was fast approaching. Garrison High was buzzing with excitement as boys and girls alike gushed over who they were going with and what they were wearing.

         The only person you wanted to ask you was your best friend, and only saw you as such. If he didn’t ask you, there wasn’t a point in attending.

         “Hey, (y/n),” came Lance’s familiar voice. Classes had ended for the day, and you were ready to go home and escape all of the prom talk.

         “Hey, Lance,” you greeted, offering him a weak smile.

         “You going to prom?” he questioned.

         You shook your head. “I doubt it.”

         He frowned. “Why not? Has anyone asked you?”

         “Nobody I’m interested in,” you shrugged. “I don’t really want to go with someone I don’t like, and the person I like hasn’t-“ You cut yourself off, a blush on your cheeks.

         “The person you like?” the brunet grinned slyly. “You never told me you were crushing on someone.”

         “It’s nothing,” you sighed. “He… He’d never be interested in me.”

         Lance raised a brow, and you failed to catch the hopeful gleam in his eye. “He? Why not? Is he not into guys?”

         “He is,” you countered, “I just don’t think he’s into me.”

         Before Lance could question further, you spun on your heel and fled from the building. Any more questions and the Cuban would have figured out you were talking about him, and you couldn’t bear to face him when he pieced it together.

           The night before prom, you were sitting in your room. A show you’d long since ceased paying attention to played on the TV, but your eyes were glued to your phone. You had been texting a couple of people about prom, letting them gush to you about how excited they were. You wished them the best of luck, and carefully changed the subject when they asked why you weren’t going. No one knew of your crush on Lance, so you didn’t have to deal with any pitying texts.

         An Instagram notification popped up, and you quirked a brow. Lance had tagged you in yet another post. You almost didn’t want to check it, tired of trying to decipher his vague but intriguing hashtags.

         Curiosity got the better of you, and you clicked on it. You nearly choked at the sight that met your eyes, not daring to believe it.

         In the photo was Lance, his torso hidden behind a notebook that he held up to the camera. Written on the notebook was your name, along with, “Go to prom with me?”

         You scrolled down to the caption, your free hand clasping over your mouth in disbelief.

           This isnt quite how I intended to tell u, bestie, but ive been crushing on you 4ever. I know im a flirt but around u I just get so shy and flustered, and I cant think of a single pickup line. U deserve better than that anyway. @username will u go to prom with me?

         #pleasesayyes #promnight #bestie #bestbud #boyfriendsmaybe?

           Biting your lip to keep your grin from breaking your face, you tapped the comments section and typed out a reply.

           You dork! I’ve been waiting forever for this! When I said I would only go with the guy I liked, I was talking about you. Of course I’ll go to prom with you!

           When prom night arrived, many selfies were taken. During one, you stole a kiss, pleasantly surprising your brown-haired date. When he uploaded the photos to Instagram, he was back to his usual flirtatious self, but with one key difference in his captions.

         You were no longer #bestbud. You were now referred to as #bestboyfriend.

[zu-daba]

Seeking Forgiveness

It’d been an hour or two, now. Zu’Daba’s body was still bruised in places from his mother’s righteous assault, but his mind had been soothed by some good herbal tea and a skewer of fish. They sat, face to face, across a fading bonfire; having already discussed much of what had come to pass since he left. Every little detail from his venture through Un’Goro, to his return to Durotar, to all that happened while he was overseas in Stranglethorn. Everything.

“Three kids?” His mother laughed, “An’ not even a single lettah.. Do dey know about me, Zu-Zu?” He asked, gently, having calmed down from earlier.

“Yes, mada..   Dey do. Ah would like fah dem ta meet you one day, or perhaps to have you come an’ meet dem in Zul’Gurub. You would be welcome there.” He spoke hopefully, his tone trailing off towards the end inquisitively.

“No, no..” She sighed, “My home is here, wit’ de Darkspear.. Ah would love to see dem, but ah am getting old my little son.. An’ Stranglethorn is far away. I know it is your home-- And I know you are proud of it.. But I cannot.”

There was a long, discomforted pause as Zu’Daba peered down into the sand; his toes curling among the grains as he sighed. “Ah understand.. Perhaps ah can bring dem here, but-- Et ain’ easy. Ah have a lot ta do back home.”

“Surely dey can be without you for a week, child..” Zin’adi wilted an ear.

“You don’t understand .. Ah have so much work ta do. So much ta make up fah. Ah do not have time fah personal mattahs.. Even dis may have been a terrible ting fah me ta do, aftah all dat has occurred. Ah should get home--” He paused, catching himself and peering at his mother as she narrowed her eyes.

Yet, the question which followed was unexpected.. “Aftah all dat has occurred? You’ve only mentioned a spare few tumultuous times ta me, Zu-Zu. What did you leave out while you were speaking?”

Zu’Daba took a deep breath, “De Shadowtusk Clan has seen much hardship, but dat which has occurred durin’ mah Chiefdom stands out ta me. De Alliance struck at oah city.. Butchered folk in de streets, killed dem in de shrines. Dey cornered families in deir huts an’ burned dem alive. Much worse tings dat ah would leave unmentioned, as well.. Et was horrible.”

“De Alliance.. Attacking Zul’Gurub? Zu-Zu, ah know you are not so foolish as to try summonin’ Hakkar.. An’ ah would’ve heard of et.. Why would dey strike at you in Zul’Gurub. What happened?” She asked, gently, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder with a soft squeeze.

“A boat..” He sighed.

“Elaborate,” His mother spoke.

“We made a boat.. Collected materials from around Azeroth ta make a vessel in de Zandalari style dat would be nigh-invincible. We got some materials from de outlyin’ regions, like Redridge.. Westfall.. Duskwood.. Blackrock..” He snorted, quite regretful. “Brought de fury of de Alliance down on us..”

“An’ why do you tink dis was your fault? Only yours?” She asked.

“..Ah ordered et. Et’s mah fault by default.” He laughed, bitterly.

Frowning, Zin’adi smacked him upside the head. “Don’ get short.. So you ordered your clan ta attack dese places? Ta thick-headedly draw de ire of de Alliance through reckless harvestin’ an’ butchery?” She didn’t seem so much angered by the thought of killing Alliance, so much as by the recklessness.

“No, no! I didn’t, no.. Ah-- Ah tried ta get dem ta be subtle, in a lot of places. But many of dem did not listen. Dey butchered innocents.. Dey were reckless in deir methods an’ did not disguise demselves. Most of de time, ah didn’t even know of et until far too late ta solve de problem.” The Darkspear rubbed his palm against the back of his neck and wrinkled up his nose.

“By Bethekk.. Zu’Daba,” Zin’adi spoke, immediately garnering his attention. It was not often she didn’t use her affectionate nickname for him. “Are you a mon who thirsts for blood?”

“..No, mada..”

“Do you lack subtlety? Are you witless?” She sighed.

“No, mada.”

“Did you start buildin’ dis boat wit’ every intention to piss off dese people an’ bring trouble upon your clan?”

“..No, mada.” Zu’Daba growled.

“So why are you blamin’ yaself? You said you gave good ordahs. You said you were intelligent. You tried ya best, an’ de whims of oddahs got in de way. Et is possible ta do all you can an’ still lose-- Dat’s jus’ how tings work. Life ain’t fair like dat, an’ you got a tough lot. Besides.. You beat dem back, didn’t you? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” She offered a supportive smile.

“Ah-- Yes, we did.. We killed de Alliance. Sent ‘em pissin’ back ta Stormwind wit’ powerful voodoo an’ a divine storm, den we killed deir commandah. Had to work for months in Zandalar ta get de support ta defeat dem, an’ ah led us every step of de way. But et doesn’t change dat a leadah must be able ta control everyting in de ranks of dose who serve him. All tings fall onto his shoulders--”

“Bullshit.” She stated, simply. “What kind of foccery is dat? You tink Thrall could have controlled what Garrosh did aftah appointin’ him? You tink dat Vol’jin could control de Darkspear Rebellion’s initial losses? A leadah can only do so much, Zu-Zu. You are not de savior of your people. You are not deir sole hero.”

“..Is dat supposed ta help me feel better?” Daba spoke, crestfallen.

“No. It’s supposed to humble you.” His mother snorted. “You are not de only one who controls de fate of your people. You remember dat phrase? You can lead a raptor ta watah, but you..” She trailed off.

“Can’t make ‘em drink.” Daba finished, for her.

“Right. Dis clan you lead made mistakes.. An’ maybe you made a few with dem. But unless you held de torch ta dese families.. Unless you held de rifles ta de back of deir necks an’ unless you  directly participated in all of de torment dat your clan caused de Alliance.. Et is not only your fault. An’ while et is good dat you were willin’ ta fix what happened.. You should nevah have taken dat burden as your penance for your mistakes. A leadah cannot lead alone.” She rubbed a hand against his back with her brows furrowed.

“Anehone who says oddahwise doesn’t know what et means to lead. Anyone who blamed you, an’ only you, fah what happened.. Dey’re cruel.” She offered.

Zu’Daba sighed and sat up, looking at the stars. “Dat’s not de only problem.. A great creature, a C’thraxxi, stalks us at every turn. If ah had jus’ gone away.. It would never have come aftah us in de firs’ place. Maybe if ah go away now, it will too-- Et seems like et WANTS us ta fight. Ta draw inta oahselves. Am ah only makin’ tings worse in dis struggle?” The Shadow Hunter closed his eyes.

“Where would the clan be, if you weren’t dere?” Zin’adi lofted a brow.

“I.. Don’t know. I don’t know who would have led. I don’t know who would have stayed or left. I don’t know if de whole clan would collapse, dere’s no way to..” He trailed off, seeing her point and shaking his head out.

“Your loa, Legba, ever remind you of dat? Or did you simply forget ta listen ta his voice in ya Rush’kah? Ah shouldn’t need to tell you that, Zu-Zu.” His mother teased.

“Ya righ’, yes.. But-- De fightin’.. What if ah jus’ givin’ Garax what he wants? What if he wants us ta fight? He seems ta always be a step ahead in his grand design, an’ et seems like de more we fight de more power he gains.. Should we run? Should we surrender ta survive, or throw oah lot in wit’ anoddah?” He cringed at the mere thought, red-eyed gaze meeting the older woman’s.

“Can you run?” She canted her head.

“No.. No, we can’t. He’ll jus’ chase us..”

“Would you willingly surrender?” She narrowed her eyes.

“No-- No! Of course not, et’d cost us everything.. We’d all be consumed an’ all we fought ta build would mean nothin’. All.. Obliterated.”

“Would you throw your lot in with the Horde?” She finally offered.

“No.. We are not de Horde. We are many, many tribes.. Ta join de Horde or any oddah folk would insult many of mah own clansmates.”

“So.. What choice remains?” She questioned, assuredly rhetorical.

“Fight..” Zu’Daba clenched a fist.

“Aye. If you hadn’t fought, where would your clan be? What would have happened to all you built if you nevah fought against Skaldrean?” She continued.

“Gone ta dust.. Nothin’. We’d be homeless, an’ destitute.” He already seemed to be perking up in that moment of realization.

“An’ what will happen if you do not fight against dis.. Garax?” She grinned. Now you’re starting to get it, son. “You know de answer, Zu-Zu.”

“Mah children.. Mah clan.. De tribes we’ve aligned wit’.. All of dem will fall down an’ be destroyed, eiddah by time or shadow. We need to fight.” He snarled.

“Dat’s right. You do. An’ even if ah cannot join you in dat fight, Zu’Daba, ah know dat you can win et. When we are attacked, we do not sit on oah laurels an’ take et. We do not -bow- to de darkness dat would consume dat which we love. Even if we lose, as you have, we get righ’ back up an’ start fightin’ again. Until we are nothin’ but ash.. We must fight fah what we are, an’ what we believe in. Ah know dat is what went through ya fada’s head as he shielded us from de sea.”

After that speech, Zu’Daba swiped some tears from his eyes.. His teeth grit and he murmured ever so softly to his mother. “Thank you.. Thank you, mada.. Ah don’ think you know how much ah needed dat remindah. All dis time, ah been called a fool fah fightin’.. Fah strivin’.. Fah standin’ up fah what ah believe in an’ fah de culture of mah people. But ah knew dey were wrong. Dey jus’.. Scared. An’ dey not stupid ta be.. But we all pay in blood, one way or de oddah.”

His mother nodded as he met her gaze tearfully, leaning in to embrace her tightly and shuddering. His face pushed slightly against her cheek as he wept and took a moment to compose himself.

“Ah.. Should probably sleep soon, if you’ll have me here. But.. Can ah ask you something, before ah do?” He closed his eyes and sat back on the stump he perched upon. The cool ocean breeze brushed through his fur as his toes curled into the sand and the stars shone upon the waves crashing against the shore.

“Anehthing, Zu-Zu.”

“Did you know ah was still alive?” He spoke, barely above a whisper.

Smiling, Zin’adi stood up and offered him a hand. “Do you remember what I tol’ you when you were young, aftah ya faddah died? Dat every time a great troll dies, de loa put a star in de sky ta honor deir passing?”

Zu’Daba nodded, standing up and grabbing his Rush’kah from the stump nearby so that he wouldn’t leave it out in the open to be taken by passersby.

“I never saw yours.”

[magnoliasinbloom]

The Midwife

AO3 :: Previously

XV

The soreness was still there as I sat gingerly at the dresser, while one of Jared’s maids—Suzette—attempted to tame my hair into a semblance of matronly respectability. Jamie had nuzzled me awake, his mouth trailing kisses down my body and asking with pleading blue eyes for a repeat of the previous night.

“I ken once is enough to make it binding, but would ye mind verra much…”

I hadn’t minded.

Dressed in a cheery yellow dress, I thanked Suzette and made my way downstairs where Jamie was waiting for me. He had had to leave earlier to settle his affairs at the university and arrange for our passage out of France. His dazzling smile at the sight of me made me bashful, as he took my hand to help me down the last steps.

“Sassenach, ye look lovely.” His lips grazed my knuckles. “No longer my wee milkweed puff.” I recalled his words when he had tangled his fingers in my hair, the curls wild on the pillow. Desire kindled in my belly, and I remembered that Jamie was now mine to enjoy when I would. We would have that night, and every night after that.

“Suzette tried,” I said ruefully, touching the up-do carefully. “And it was kind of Jared to find me a dress more suitable for meeting your family.”

“I have something else for ye, Claire.” Still in his kilt, Jamie reached into his sporran and drew a small velvet sack. He tilted it and poured its contents into the palm of his hand. Bright pearls interspersed with gold roundels twined in his fingers. “These were my mam’s. I’ve had them since I left Lallybroch. They are meant for my wife, a bride gift.” He stepped behind me and laid the necklace around my neck, fastening it at the nape with a kiss. I touched the cool pearls, the significance of this gesture weighing on me like the ring on my hand. “Do ye like them?”

“They’re beautiful, Jamie. I shall treasure them always.” I turned my head, and caught his mouth. Jamie’s hands rested on the bodice of my dress, but with a sigh he pulled away, mindful of the time.

“Are ye ready then? We canna miss the tide.”

“We sail at noon. I can ask Mother Hildegarde for some seasickness remedies.” I was determined to continue my work as a healer, and Jamie fully supported this. We were going back to l’hôpital to gather my meager belongings; after that we would board a coach courtesy of Jared that would take us the port city of Le Havre. After that, we would be bound for England on another of Jared’s ships. Jamie dreaded this—he had admitted he suffered from crippling seasickness, but there was no other way across the channel.

We gripped hands tightly as we climbed the steps to the hospital entrance. He placed a kiss on my temple once inside, in the vaulted foyer; I could hear the hum and bustle of patients and healers down the stone hallway. We veered away from the main sick room and closer to Mother Hildegarde’s chamber. Jamie planned to thank the abbess and lay down our new plans, as well as leave a small donation to the convent for the keeping of l’hôpital.

Repeated knocks on her door were met with silence. I frowned. “Perhaps she is tending to a patient. Or at the convent. I shall pack my bag and ask one of the sisters where we can find Mère Hildegarde.”

“I will meet ye by the garden door, is that alright?”

“I won’t be long,” I promised. I watched the back of him briefly before turning to the passage leading to the novices’ cells. I stepped into my room, noting the bare plastered walls, the tiny bed, the dust motes floating in the shaft of sunlight from the window. I noticed everything for the last time, before I took my other old dress, a blanket, stockings, and small trinkets that had belonged to Maman from a small chest at the foot of the bed. I folded them inside the same burlap sack I had first brought them in, shutting the lid of the chest with a muted thump. With an air of finality, I bid farewell to the room and left.

Malva was waiting for me in the corridor.

I halted in my tracks, my heart beating hollowly in my chest. Fight or flight? I had no time to waste on the petite salope, and made up my mind to walk past her quickly and hope she did not try to stop me. Malva hadn’t uttered a word or attempted to get close to me. I held the sack in a white-knuckled grip, prepared to use it as a weapon if I had to. I met her eyes with as much steel as I could muster. I brushed against her shoulder when she spoke from behind me.

“I can smell him on you.”

Malva’s voice made my blood run cold. At the same time, white hot anger flared in the pit of my stomach. She had wilfully murdered a woman who had done no wrong—nothing but cross Malva’s path in her vendetta against me. I took a deep breath, turned to her, and slapped her with my left hand, forcefully. Her head rocked sideways, with a satisfying crack.

Malva faced me, hand to her cheek. My wedding ring had cut her, blood seeping slowly from the wound. Her grey eyes were pure hatred. She looked haggard and disheveled since the last time I had seen her. Her hands were dirty—something unacceptable in the Hôpital des Anges—and her apron stained.

My voice hissed across the silence in the narrow corridor. “Do not ever speak to me again. Good riddance, you murdering bitch.” I backed away, wary of turning my back on her after our confrontation. Malva could only stare, the palm of her hand dotted with blood. I hoped it left a scar. I hoped she would look at it every day and remember what she had done.

“Claire!” Sister Angelique’s voice rebounded from the stone ceiling. She turned the corner and found us, clutching her habit and out of breath. I noticed that Sister Angelique was not her usual impeccable self. Her wimple hung limply, covering half her head. Much like Malva, she had a worn-out expression on her face and had a handkerchief tied around her neck loosely. I recognized it as a face mask, a policy implemented by Mother Hildegarde years ago. The scent of vinegar permeated Sister Angelique, as she looked at me imploringly. “We need your help!”

* * *

“It’s smallpox.”

I found Jamie at the garden gate, stopping five steps shy of him. Sister Angelique had taken me to the main hospital sick room, filled with pallets of ill Parisians. After donning a face mask of my own, I had looked around me in horror. Many of them were sailors, but others civilians, a red rash covering what could be seen of their face and hands. Some were fevered, others vomiting into nearby clay basins. Sisters Minèrve and Celeste were also infected, lying side by side. And most frightening of all—Mother Hildegarde was among the sick, her broad and sweating form still beneath a woolen blanket.

“Smallpox?” Jamie’s brow furrowed as he tried to come closer. I jumped back and he stared at me in confusion. “What is it, mo nighean donn?”

“You—you shouldn’t touch me. I could be carrying the disease.” I swallowed hard. All round us, the garden lay dormant in hues of gray and brown, awaiting spring to bloom again.

“Not touch ye? Lass, we are bound for Scotland in mere hours!” Jamie said pleadingly, his hand outstretched, trying to bridge the gap between us. I clutched my hands inside my cloak tighter, the smell of vinegar steadying and familiar.

“I can’t Jamie. I… we can’t go to Scotland yet. I could make you sick, or the ship’s crew… we cannot risk it.”

Jamie was quiet, considering. “Ye say ‘yet’,” he responded finally, a resigned expression on his face. “When could we go?”

“I’ll need seven days. Then, if I am not ill, we can depart.”

“Seven days? Ye mean to stay, love?”

“Jamie, I am needed here. Mother Hildegarde is also ill.” Tears slipped unheeded, knowing what I must do. “Give me a week, so I can help the sisters. Go to Jared, and wait for me. You may already be infected, but if you are not, in one week we shall go to Scotland as planned. We cannot wait and also risk your uncle Dougal’s wrath.”

“I canna imagine Jared will be well pleased either,” he said with a brief smile. “He has already risked much by helping us.”

“’Tis the sailors who brought the illness here,” I replied with a shiver. “The same sailors Jared recommended come here to be healed spread the smallpox. We did not see what it was.” His look of horror helped steel my resolve. “It is my duty to help, Jamie. Please understand.”

He took a deep breath, resigned. “We can wait seven days. I understand this is who ye are, mo chridhe, and I would not for the world tell ye to be otherwise. But can I not stay here and help ye? Another pair of hands would be useful.”

I shook my head. “I would not risk your health, Jamie, or your life.”

“Ye risk yers, why not mine?”

“I need to know you are waiting for me, and that will be enough to get me through.” I was weeping openly now, fear coursing through me. This could go badly for me, but I had to put my faith in God and Maman’s memory and believe that we would prevail, and we would go to Scotland together.

“Malva, she’s a wicked woman, a murderer—”

“Do not worry. I will steer clear of her, and try to never be alone with her. I will be safe.” I drew a shaky breath. “And… you must promise not to come back to l’hôpital. It is dangerous, you could fall ill. Promise me, Jamie.”

Jamie reached me in three strides, despite me trying to push him away. He held me tightly to him, and I surrendered, gripping the back of his coat as though my life depended on it. “I promise lass, if it means this much to ye,” he whispered. This is what it felt like, to be torn between duty and love, and my heart ached, with the knowledge that I might not see him again.

“Ye will be safe. Ye have my name and my family, my clan, and if necessary, the protection of my body as well.” He kissed my hair, whispering words of comfort. “I will wait, Sorcha.” Light—Claire. “I love ye, dinna forget it.”

I set him firmly away from me. Jamie’s face was white and strained, what I was imagined a mirror image of my own. His eyes filled with yearning. With a final kiss to my hand—the one that wore his ring—he let me go. I made my way out of the garden, walking slightly hunched as though I were in great pain, as someone who knows she must keep moving, but feels her life and soul ebbing slowly away. I dared not turn around.

I prayed for the strength to let him go, if only for a little while, and not fall on my knees and beg him to stay or take me with him. Let me be brave enough, I prayed. Let me love him enough to see him away safe while I committed to my responsibility as a healer.

“Go wi’ God,” Jamie murmured behind me.

[finding-my-imagination]

Family Ties (Pt.9)

Part Nine - The End

Pan x Reader

Word counter: 2.4 k

"Where are we going?" Regina questioned, clearly worried that we were running out of time.

"We're going to the Pixie Woods. Its where all the pixie dust used to grow, before kids stopped believing. It's completely deserted now. No one, not even me, has been there for centuries. Except for Pan" I whispered at the end while swatting pesky bugs, and maneuvering around large palm frowns. About a mile away from the outskirt of the woods I stopped the group, turning to face them.

"I think that from here on out you guys should stay at least, twenty yards away from me."

"What? Why?" Baelfire said growing worried.

"If Pan sees you here, of all the places on the island, I'm not sure what he'll do. This place is like a sanctuary to him. And he only usually comes here in the worst of time. Plus if its just me I might be able to convince him to forgive me. Give him the same sob story we gave to the lost boys. Then maybe while I'm distracting him, Regina and Emma could try to immobilize him with magic or something? Kinda like I did to you back at the camp." I suggested.

"Okay. Be safe." Bae said pulling me in for a sudden hug. "Don't let him manipulate your feeling. You're stronger than you think." He whispered quietly into my ear. I nodded my head in understanding, pulling away, giving him a tight-lipped smile before moving forward. I barely made it two steps forward when Regina grabbed my arm pulling my attention back to her.

"Good luck." She said simply before setting me free. I gave them each a quick once over before finally heading into the woods.

As I walked I tried to focus on keeping a steady pace while constantly reminding myself to breathe as the nerves calmed firmly onto my mind. I know Pan wasn't going to back down without a fight, but as much as I wanted to save Henry for the group and myself, I didn't know if I actually had the strength to hurt him. After roughly ten minutes of walking in silence, I finally enter the center of the woods. I look around trying to find Pan, when I spotted Pandora's box sitting on a rock. I carefully begin to approach it, knowing that Pan wouldn't just leave it behind for no reason.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you."

I jumped at the sudden voice, as I turned around looking at Pans smirk figure.

"Are you still at this game? I thought by now you would have learned."

I took a deep breathe in before saying, "Why?" I asked letting the plan fly completely out of the window.

"Why, what love?"

"Why couldn't you do it for me, give up the heart? Why did you take away the one thing that I wanted more than anything, away from me?"

"I knew that they would just turn their backs on you like your father did the moment they got what they wanted, plus it took hundreds of years to find the solution to save our youth. And I didn't see the point in letting it walk away just because an unexpected component showed up."

"So that means that my wants are always gonna come second if something you want shows up first?"

"Of course not, love! But this was bigger than both of us and you know that." He said rushing forward placing his hands on my shoulders.

"I have trust issues, Peter! You know this! I know this! Everyone knows this! And yet you ignored that. You were the person that I trusted more than everyone. You saved me. And you took that trust and you through it in the trash, like it meant nothing."

"How did I do that?" He said, confused.

"I trusted you to always be there for me. To always have my back. And the time I need you to have that same trust in me. In what I believed in you walked away." I whispered as tears began to leave my eyes. I tried to turn away as I brought my hands up to eyes to wipe away the evidence of my emotions. "And now I don't know what to do because I cant stay here and look at you, cause I know that I will only see that betrayal. And I cant go with them because when I look at them all I see is that failure to save Henry, that failure to prove my self-worth."

"What are you talking about!? Leaving Neverland? I cant be here without you." He said pulling me back towards him.

"I'm hurt, Peter. The only thing I ever asked you to do, you wouldn't even consider it. While any time you ever asked me to do anything, I'd jump on the task because I knew you wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important."

"You have to stay, we can work everything out."

"Would you be saying that if our roles were reversed? If I had won and you had lost?"

"I don't think I could imagine my life without you in it."

"But would you be able to forgive me?" I pushed, as he tried to avoid the question at hand.

Pan looked me in the eye his own darting from mine to my lips, silently begging me to give up on receiving an actual answer. I felt even more tears fall down my face as I pulled Pan in for what I assumed what was going to be our last kiss for a long time or possibly forever. My hand rose and was placed on his chest, giving his shirt a small tug. After what seemed like an eternity, but was really was only seconds.

"Ow!" Pan froze. I slowly pulled away looking down at the ground letting the tears fall freely.

"What...Why...why can't I move?" Pan said confused by his sudden lack of mobility.

I clenched his shirt one more time before looking him in the eyes once again. "I really wish you would have had faith in me, Peter...They did." I quickly shoved my hand into his chest and wrapping it around Henry's beating heart, averting my eyes from his face. As I pulled my hand free I heard the sounds of approaching moving feet.

I fully disconnected myself from Pan and began to move past him. I grabbed Pandora's box off the rock on which it laid. Then headed towards the edge of the clearing as Emma, Regina, and Bae as they came into view. I push them back a few feet ensuring that we were out of Pan's earshot.

"Sorry it took so long, their magic wasn't working so I had to make a makeshift blow dart covered in nightshade." Bae explained.

I handed the heart to Regina silently, before saying, "Hurry. Take Henry and get him the hell off this island before it's too late, and the nightshade wares off..."

Regina and Emma gave a swift nod then turned and rushed back to the camp.

I turn to Bae, handing him the box, before saying, "Go with them. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"You want me to leave you alone with him after what we just pulled? Are you crazy?"

"I promise you I'll only be a minute. I'm a big girl, I'll be fine."

"Fine. But if you aren't right behind me by the time I get the camp. I'm coming back for you."

"Okay, I'll be quick." I whispered. Bae gave a stiff nod before sending a quick glance Pans way, then turning to head towards the camp. I slowly moved back into Pans direction before stopping a few feet in front of him.

"What not gonna run off with your family, to celebrate your utter betrayal?" Pan said harshly, clearly hurt by my actions.

"I love you. and I know that you're pissed and that you probably hate me at the moment, but I don't regret doing it. Because of their family. and I know you would do the same thing."

"That was your wrong love. I would never betray you like this. And I know you don't regret anything. Cause these tree feed off of regret and yet not one of them has made a single move towards you as you grabbed that box."

"I'm going to see them off. and by the time the nightshade wheres off, they'll be long gone. And once they are you can punish me for not following through with the plan, then after however long it takes and you forgive me, we can start looking for another way to save you and the island."

"But I'm never going to forgive you. You will be dead to me, the moment they step foot off this island. So your punishment is going to last a lifetime, and it's going to be more painful than you could ever imagine." He sneered, as he shot looks of anger towards me. I gave a small nod, knowing that what I had been fearing this whole time was finally becoming a reality. I gave him one last look before following the path Bae had taken back towards the camp.

The moment I walked into the camp I say the Storybrooke group crowded around a now concuss Henry.

"Welcome back, young sir. Only the best for our guest of honor. Don't you think? Captains quarters." Hook said, smiling down at Henry.

"Come on, I'll tuck you in." Regina said ushering him onto the boat. I watched quietly from the trees when Bae noticed my presence.

"Well? Arent, you coming?" Bae asked me as he watched their retreating figures disappear onto the boat.

"No."

"What?!" He questioned, his eyes wiping towards my figure.

"Bae, I'm glad I saved Henry. But this island is my home and the Lost Boys already thought that I abandoned them once and I'll be damned if they think that again."

"But what about Pan? I'm sure he was something nasty planned for you after this. And if he doesn't the Felix definitely does."

"Then Ill face that when the time comes. I still love him. Even though I'm sure he doesn't feel the exact same way as he did before today. And I've been on Pan's bad side before and I've seen how others have been treated when they were on his bad side. So I have a small idea of what to expect. But I don't regret helping you. I don't regret saving Henry. So whatever happens, I'll be okay." I said giving him a slight smile.

"Y/N... Come with us. I cant leave you to here knowing that Pan is going to retaliate."

"I'm sorry Bae. I won't leave my lost boys again."

"Then bring them with you."

"What? I cant bring them. If I brought them they wouldn't know the first thing about your new world. Hell, I don't even know anything about your world. We've all been on Neverland longer than most people have been alive on there."

"I'm mean, sure it will be an adjustment. But Y/N, you're forgetting that a lot of the lost boys are from that world. Hell, I was brought here from there, and I went back. And I turned out just fine."

I thought about the idea that he was offering. Could I really leave? Could I really take all of the lost boys away from Neverland? Could I really leave Pan behind without the possibility of coming back for him? I thought back and forth between the two boys. One representing the past while the other represented the future. If I stayed I would suffer for hurting Pan in a way that I didn't know I was capable of. But if I went, then that meant that I would never be able to truly earn his forgiveness, or know if there was an actual chance of working everything out between us. "I don't know..."

"What if we asked them? See if they want to come? I'm sure that they will, but this way you could see exactly how they feel themselves." Bae turned from me and walked towards the group of lost boys who sat on the opposite side of the camp. "Everyone." Bae stated grabbing the boys attention. " We all know that you're loyal to Pan. But we care about you. We care about what happens to you when we leave this island. And Pans gonna be angry. At us. At Y/N. And at you... We can save you. We can take you to a land were Pan can never harm you to manipulate you guys again. Were he can never get to you again. So my question to you is, do you want to come?"

The lost boys all listen intently to him before looking from one another to me. I stared at them all intensely trying to figure out what they were thinking, and how they would answer.

"Could you really take us home?" One of the boys finally spoke up.

"Absolutely." Bae whispered.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I said looking at them softly. They all gave very hesitant nods before moving their eyes back to Bae.

He turned to me before saying, "So you have their answer. Whats yours?"

I looked at the boys, then Bae, then the ship and everyone waiting to get on before I made my Final decision.

"Okay. Let's load up".

They boys all hooted and hollered before rushing to the ship pushing each other to get on board first.

Bae wrapped his arm around my shoulders, giving my forehead a quick kiss before saying, "Good choice. I wasn't gonna leave you here anyways. You don't abandon family... even when they want you too."

We began to walk up to the Jolly Rodger when I hesitated for a slight second. "Don't worry your not gonna be alone. Were all here for you." I took a deep breath before nodding and walking onto a ship I swore to never step foot onto again. After ten minutes all of the lost boys and the Storybrooke crew were below the deck preparing for taking off.

I thought back to all the good time spent on this island and how I never expected to be leaving. When Jared and Ben came and stood next to me. I bent down and scooped up Ben once the boat began to lift into the air and away from the island.

"So whats next for the lost girl and her little gang of boys?" Jared spoke leaning over the railing, watching the island disappear into the distance.

"Hopefully adventure."

So that’s it! That’s the end of Family Ties! I do have an idea for a sequel but if or when it gets posted will be posted is yet to be decided. Thank you all so much for the amazing support and encouragement that you've given me through this series. If you're interested in the sequel let me know and I’ll jump right on it!

[melonmork]

college jungwoo pt 1

alright my honeys are u ready??💕🌷🌸

~okay i dont feel like i know jungwoo as well as the other members since i havent known him as long but im gonna do my best!!

~jungwoo is in his sophomore year studying to be a veterinarian so hes always very busy since he's taking science-intensive classes

~he loves biology. it's easily his best class; he makes As on nearly every assignment and he focuses super hard during labs, but this also means he's almost always either in the campus library or cafe studying or writing lab reports

~his junior friend doyoung always has to drag him away from studying or writing because jungwoo will forget to eat, he'll only drink lattes or hot chocolate for an entire day

~jungwoo resists doyoung but he's always thankful once they're eating together and jungwoo has the chance to see his friends and relax. he's a workaholic, but he enjoys his friends' company immensely when they manage to drag him away from his textbooks

~you're also a sophomore! u know jungwoo because you had bio lab with him in freshman year and he was often your lab partner

~you honestly felt bad when he voluntarily partnered with you because you felt like you werent as good at bio as him. whenever he approached you first about partnering up, you felt like he did it out of pity. after all, he's a sweet boy and he even helped you on your calc homework after labs even though he wasnt in calc

~but you loved being partnered up with him :^) jungwoo would subtly take charge of the lab because he got super excited about being hands-on with the scientific material he was learning about

~he would quietly and patiently help you set up equipment, reaching beakers from high shelves for you without teasing you, lighting burners for you bc those things are scary as heck (jungwoo: is it okay if i do that? i dont want you to get hurt :-o)

~one time he even put your apron on for you and tied the strings behind you (after asking your permission, of course) and you could have sworn you saw a cute dusting of pink on his cheeks as he asked

~u have not forgotten anything about that moment,,,

~also, being his lab partner meant you got to see his cute smile up close!!! actually all year during labs you would glance his way constantly, admiring the soft features of his profile and the way his eyebrows would furrow and he'd purse his lips when he was super concentrated on a task

~sometimes, every now and again, he'd catch you watching him and the two of you would blush and look away and pretend like it never happened

~through the year you two became closer and you exchanged numbers and would send each other notes and ask about each other's lab reports

~eventually the texting ventured away from school and once he even invited you to get smoothies with him at the end of second semester

~but over the summer, you two fell out of touch :~( and this year you didnt have any classes together

~honestly, you missed him a lot. you have chem lab this year and your regular chem partner is sweet and helpful but not as,,, well,,, enchanting as jungwoo was, so you admittedly dont enjoy lab as much as last year

~in fact, u dont even really see him until one night when you're in the library printing out a two page essay you wrote (last minute) for literature

~you're waiting by the printer, wearing sweats, a hoodie, and teddy bear slippers, literally nodding off as you wait for this old printer to crank out those pages

~after a few seconds it starts humming loudly and you perk up, ready to snatch those pages and trudge back to your dorm so you can go the heck to sleep

~the printer spits out two pages and you go to grab them but ,...more pages keep coming out... and more and more and more and you're standing there in front of the printer like ????? what is going on????

~you dont see anyone else in the library and most of the computers are visible from where you're standing so you're thoroughly confused

~you wait for a bit longer as the printer finishes up and for a second you hesitate to grab papers that obviously arent yours but... maybe yours are in there? so you grab the stack and look at the name

~your heart skips a beat when you read the name on the paper.... "jungwoo?" you read aloud

~and you jump in surprise when you hear a small "hi" from behind you

~feeling your cheeks heat up, you sheepishly turn to face him, embarrassed to be seeing The Kim Jungwoo, the sweetheart angel boy who you havent seen in so long, while wearing sweats and a hoodie and slippers

~but it's okay cause sweetheart angel boy is also wearing sweats, a hoodie, and slippers..... and wow does jungwoo look exhausted :~( your embarrassment wanes as you get a good look at his softly smiling face

~he has exaggerated dark circles under his eyes and his skin isnt as clear as you remember it being last year, his hair looks like he's been running his hands through it all day, and his smile is a little bit less bright than it used to be

~but he still looks ethereal... his hoodie framing his wide shoulders so cutely, strands of his soft black hair falling haphazardly over his forehead and his pretty mouth forming that warm smile of his, framing his cute teeth and Oh My God your little crush on him has not gone away at all

~"jungwoo... how,, have you been?" you manage, heat rising to your cheeks again

~"ive been alright... sort of overwhelmed this semester!" he laughs softly and glances down at his feet, then looks back up at you, "but im okay. how are you?" he looks you in the eyes and smiles again and your stomach does a lil flip

~"im pretty good! i dont like my lab partner this year near as much as last year, though"

~it's quiet for a moment after u say that and u realize what u just said and u feel ur face burning up now because whY thE Heck did u just blurt that out oh no hes gonna be creeped out oh no

~but his smile widens and his entire face softens and he lets out a genuine little laugh

~"yeah, me neither. i... miss you" he says, hesitating a little and looking down at his feet again

~your heart warms up and ur stomach does that lil flip again and you smile and for a few seconds it's quiet and you finally say "me too." and then it's quiet again

~then u remember that you're still holding jungwoo's enormous stack of papers in your hands so you shuffle over to him and hand them over and he takes them, apologizing for making you hold them for so long and you laugh and tell him he didnt make you carry them

~and u stand in front of each other for another few seconds, awkwardly wondering whether to continue talking or to move along

~finally, jungwoo says he has to get going and that it was nice to see you and he flashes you a tired smile before making his way out of the library, laden with a huge bookbag and a textbook in his arms as well as all of his papers

~you watch him go, feeling a little bit sad that nothing more became of ur lil run in with jungwoo

~u print our ur essay and make ur way back to ur dorm, ur heart and eyelids both feeling a bit heavier than when you went to the library, despite having seen sweetheart angel boy again after so long

~the next morning you get breakfast with ur roommate and the head to literature and turn in your essay, trying not to think about jungwoo cause u dont want to fall back into that crush especially since u wont be seeing him again,,,

~u do a pretty good job of circumventing any lingering thoughts of (sweetheart angel boy) jungwoo from the night before

~that is, until 11:48 AM

~when you get a text

from: jungwoo 🐻

good morning!! I'm sorry I wasn't able to talk longer last night. are you busy sometime after 5 today? I'd love to catch up 😊

~u, in the cafeteria, mouth hanging open: Yes

~n then you realize that u probably should send that as a text ,,, so you quickly respond yes!!! i would love to!!! im free at 6

~and u put ur phone down and start eating but like ,, a minute later ur phone vibrates again

from: jungwoo 🐻

Yay!!! 😆 Let's get smoothies again! 🥤see you there at 6!

~u send him a confirmation text and then finish ur lunch while ur heart soars because wOw he actually does want to see you!!! wow!!! and this time u wont be wearing slippers!!!

~and u cant deny that u also get excited about the idea that jungwoo will also not be wearing pajamas or slippers ,,, u always liked jungwoo's style,,

~all day after that all u can think about is jungwoo's soft voice last night when he told you he misses you... it was so forward of him and it makes ur heart skip a beat even just thinking back on it... is he always so forward? you wonder

~around 5:50 you start walking to the smoothie place, feeling nervous but much less silly without ur teddy bear slippers

~jungwoo's exact thought at 5:50 while hes sitting at a table in the smoothie place waiting for u: their teddy bear slippers were so cute 😣

~once u arrive he gets up to greet u and u guys awkwardly say hi and stand in front of each other and then get in line to order smoothies

~u two are a little bit clumsy with your conversation at first, speaking at the same time and then laughing and telling the other to go first

~but eventually, once u two are sitting across from each other at a little table and sipping on ur smoothies, u have a steady conversation about school and sophomore year and your friends and new roommates

~the conversation dies down again after a while and u two sip on ur smoothies and u wonder what u could say to continue talking to jungwoo because you're having such a nice time and ur heart is so happy to hear his soft voice again... u hadnt realized how much u missed it until this evening

~but before you can think of anything to say, jungwoo rests his chin in his palms, his elbows propped up on the table and he looks at you, making eye contact and doing that soft smile of his

~u have to take a second to remember how to breathe

~after a moment of gazing at u he sighs

~"im so happy to see you again, i really have missed you" and he smiles, his cheeks getting a bit pink but otherwise not rlly seeming to be embarrassed or shy by what he said and youre a flustered mess !!!!

~u manage to not stutter when u say "me too, jungwoo" and he giggles at your shy expression that you're trying so hard to hide (hes dying inside because youre so freaking cute !!!)

~after u finish ur smoothies, he walks with you back to campus and as you guys are on your way back, you're stopped by doyoung who comes up to you guys with his mouth open wide and his eyebrows raised

~"jungwoo... i just went to the library to look for you and you weren't there so i went to the cafe and you weren't there either and it didnt even occur to me that you werent actually studying... are you... are you two-"

~jungwoo cuts him off with a little shake of his head and explains that u guys were lab partners and friends last year and were just catching up and hes on his way to the library now

~you're kinda confused by the whole exchange bc from what doyoung said, it seems like jungwoo is pretty much always studying and it's odd for him to have gone out and done something other than study in the evening

~and while that thought makes u feel bad for him, u also feel pleased that he chose to spend time with you instead of studying :'~)

~doyoung leaves after a few minutes of him n jungwoo laughing abt something that their friend taeil did earlier that day

~doyoung and jungwoo hug and hold each other's hands until their fingertips are touching, then let their hands fall to their sides again as they say goodnight to each other and you're watching and smiling fondly cause jungwoo is so loving to his friend and it makes your heart swell

~jungwoo turns to u and smiles sheepishly, letting out a little laugh and apologizing for making you wait on him

~you shake your head and tell him you're happy to have met his friend!!

~and his eyes light up and his face brightens into a beaming smile and he tells you that he's so happy that you met doyoung, too

~he walks you back to your dorm building and u two say goodbye and u start to go up the steps when jungwoo calls for you again

~you turn around to see him at the bottom of the steps, smiling up at u and looking a little bit shy but So Handsome (ur heart? mush)

~u walk back down the steps to see him and you're standing on the step in front of him so you're pretty much the same height now and his face is kinda close to urs and both of u have an entire butterfly garden break dancing to dubstep in ur tummies tbh

~"yes?" you ask him, smiling and trying to hide ur nervousness because of the proximity

~"i just wanted to say that i had a lovely time tonight and i want to see you again soon"

~omg sweetheart angel boy makes your heart do acrobatics with his soft sunrise voice and his pretty dark brown eyes looking into your own and the cute shape of his cheeks as he smiles at you

~"let's get dinner this friday?" he continues, his eyes widening a little bit in a hopeful way, his smile widening too

~and you cant help but smile so big, u have to look down at your feet for a second just to regain any semblance of composure u might have had before

~after a second you look up and nod and hold your pinkie out to him

~"pinkie promise" you tell him, and he smiles Even Wider and links his pinkie with yours and touches his thumb to your own and you two stand there like that for a little bit longer than necessary

~finally u both let go and say goodbye for real this time and u walk up the steps to your dorm but u feel like you're floating cause woW sweetheart angel boy kim jungwoo is going to take you out for dinner in three days... friday is in three days...

~both u and jungwoo spend the entire three days in anticipation and almost middle-school-like-giddness because !!!! this is kind of a date right???? like neither of u said it but it's kind of a date????

~doyoung certainly says so and he's been telling all of his and jungwoo's mutual friends

~doyoung: yukhei, guess what? jungwoo has a cute date this friday

~yukhei, in the library, at a table with jungwoo and doyoung: ooooHOhOhoHHOHOHO jungwoo has a DATE!!! get it!!!!!!!!!

~jungwoo, probably: im leaving

~when thursday night rolls around, you're sitting on your bed, typing something up on your laptop and probably watching youtube tbh and your phone dings :^)

from: jungwoo 🐻

I'm excited to see you tomorrow. I'll meet you at the bottom of your stairs at 7 tomorrow night, is that okay?

~you probably forget to respond for like 15 minutes cause u take a screenshot of the text and send it to ur best friend and yell about how nervous and excited you are and when u finally respond, you tell him you're looking forward to it! and you ask him what you should wear

~a few minutes later, you get a response...

[chogisad]

A Prayer For the Storm, a Shot of Vodka For the Fire | PT. 1

SUMMARY: The night the tank room collapses, everything changes. Some are searching for forgiveness, and some are searching for each other.

GENRE: Angst. POWERS AU. (WARNING: Brief mention of character deaths.)

Length: 3K.

TRAILER HERE

------ PART ONE  ------

Monday

Maracaibo is quiet for a Monday afternoon. The lights around the town begin to spring to life and Jongdae tells himself to enjoy the tranquility while it lasts. When summer starts, the streets will line with tourists and researchers, all hoping to experience Lake Maracaibo's "eternal storm."

On some days, Jongdae can see the lightning from his apartment's balcony. Its been months but every time, he becomes transfixed by the luminescent rays. They envelop the sky, over and over again, and on the bad days, when his own powers flare inside of him like thunder in the dead of night, they also help hide the way he loses control. On the bad days, when the electricity bursts out of him, Jongdae wishes he could be like Maracaibo; a sight to behold rather than terror and tragedy.

He walks the aging streets of his make-shift home. He's grateful for the Venezuelan color that helps him repress memories of ashen training rooms and botched simulations, of fires and flying, of telling Minseok to go on without him. It's all different here. It's quieter, so much that on the good days, Jongdae pretends he's safe. On the good days, Jongdae enjoys the persistent heat of Venezuela and forgets about how much he loved the frost of winter, and how beautiful Minseok looked with snow in his hair.

He finds a seat at one of the local bars and keeps his eyes down as he orders his drink.

"Quien estas tratando de olvidar?"

Jongdae stiffens at the sudden question, his heart clenching in cold fear. The glass is frozen midair as he gets caught under the gaze of the timeworn bartender, and Jongdae's vision blurs with panic.

"Estas tomando a las 7 de la tarde. Qual chica te daño?"

Jongdae almost cries with relief. The old man is simply making conversation, asking about the possible flame that broke his heart, rather than the stormy past he ran fast and far from. He smiles, hoping the other man did not register his overt alarm.

"La chica es la vida. Ya sabe como es," Jongdae replies, hoping he didn't trip over his gender pronouns too badly. The bartender nods solemnly but gives him an encouraging smile before placing another glass of whiskey in front of him.

"A la vida, mi chavo. Que un día nos sepa amar."

Jongdae drinks to that-- "to life, who may one day learn to love us."

Tuesday

Sehun checks his rearview mirror once, twice, three times in the course of five minutes. He takes a detour home, a different one every night, and parks down the street instead of in front of his building.

He takes the stairs instead of the lift. He checks to make sure the thin, unnoticeable ribbon is still in the door before he opens it. This is how he survives.

He only turns one light on at a time. The wooden floors of his flat creak under his weight; he likes it this way. Every step reminds him that he's still standing.

Sehun makes tea--three sugars-- and two slices of toast. He wanders alone in the darkness of his apartment until he reaches the right room. There's only a chair and a desk and the walls are papered with newspaper clippings and red marks, each pin pointing someone Sehun is trying to find.

He opens his laptop and stays illuminated in the fluorescent light of the screen.

"EUROPE - frost." He types into the search bar.

"NORTH AMERICA - floods."

"NORTH AMERICA - fires."

"ASIA - lightning."

Sehun takes notes in a worn journal. It's the eclectic collection of sketched dates and throwaway coordinates. Most of them are useless; only a few of them give him hope that one day he'll find his family.

Sehun showers and sits in the empty ringing of his living room. There's no furniture, only a blanket and a sheetless pillow. He tucks his knees under his chin and stares out the only window he left without a curtain. The blue haze from the city around him filters through the open blinds, and Sehun remembers nights they'd sit together in the dark, after a successful training session, and contain their powers to the palms of their hands.

Sehun loved the way lightning would dance across Jongdae's fingers. He remembers when they were younger, Jongdae would touch one of them and they'd all laugh as Minseok's or Yixing's or Jongin's long hair would stand on end.

Baekhyun knew how much they all hated the dark. He'd illuminate their dorm with orbs of light that'd twinkle brighter every time he laughed. Sehun remembers how Chanyeol would keep the room warm, and Baekhyun would keep it vibrant.

As they grew older and their powers strengthened, became more volatile, they became more weary of their abilities. After the fire, Jongdae stopped touching people. Minseok stopped making snowflakes. And Chanyeol was sent to sleep in his own room. After that, Baekhyun could never hold the light for very long outside of training rooms. The orbs would illuminate the space for a few minutes, but then they'd flicker and die out. They all grew accustomed to the darkness like that.

Before going to sleep, he fills a glass with water, and leaves it next to his makeshift bed, just like Junmyeon used to do. Sehun lays down on the hard floor. He tucks a tired arm under a tired head and tries to hold on to the memory of Junmyeon singing him to sleep. Sehun is afraid of all the people hunting him down. He's afraid of the things he's done, of everything he could still do. But despite the tragedy in his wake, Sehun is terrified he'll never find the people who learned to love a tempest storm.

Wednesday

Minseok often only remembers running. He remembers the tank room collapsing. He remembers the way pine needles raked at his skin and how he could count the sharp rocks embedding themselves further into his bare feet. The earth trembled underneath them; somewhere, Kyungsoo was determined to die before they took any of them again. He remembers tugging on Baekhyun so forcefully, remembers how the wind howled in his ears louder and louder as Sehun panicked someplace else in the forest.

Minseok comes home with groceries that night. Baekhyun is asleep on the couch and Minseok can't help but tuck the worn blanket tighter around the younger boy's shoulders. Baekhyun can't seem to ever get warm enough. He shivers on sunny days, and Minseok always feels like he isn't doing enough. He knows before, Baekhyun always had someone as warm as fire to go back to.

He tries to measure his steps as he makes dinner but Baekhyun wakes up eventually. He's ruffled hair and blanket around the shoulders and Minseok's heart softens. He makes Baekhyun tea and tells him about his day, about the new drink he tried at the coffee shop, about the little old lady he helped across the street. He keeps talking, forcing himself to fill the empty spaces Minseok created when he ran through the woods and away from the sounds of rushing water, away from the echoes of thunder.

He steps away from the stove, stops to take a breath, and meets Baekhyun's nervous smile. Before he can say anything else, Baekhyun's voice cuts across the kitchen counter; shaky but determined.

"There was another dust storm in Edinburgh." Baekhyun says, and Minseok's jaw clenches.

"Another earthquake in Colorado. And people are--"

"People are what, Baekhyun?" Minseok interjects, feeling the clench of his heart, knowing he always has to play the villain in these conversations. "Seeing a disappearing man in London? Another fire in Arizona? I don't know what you want me to--"

"I want you to help me fi--"

"Baekhyun, please--"

"These aren't coincidences! Minseok--"

"Look-- we just cant--"

"They could be waiting for--"

"There's other natural disasters out there besides us, Baekhyun!" Minseok snaps, too loud, too harsh, regretting it as soon as Baekhyun flinches and goes quiet.

"I need you to let me mourn them," Minseok mutters. He turns off the stove and retreats into the silence of his bedroom. He lays in the dark, his stomach twisting with guilt, and he falls asleep as the tears begin to dry on his pillow.

Hours later, he jolts awake to the first crack of thunder.

It sends him spiraling. He fists the bed sheets as his mind flickers through memories and he becomes entrapped to his own recollections.

Brown eyes and easy smile.

"Hi-- I'm Jongdae."

Static.

"I'm sorry."

Static.

"I can't always control it."

Static.

"Min, are we gonna die here?"

Static.

Junmyeon couldn't control the water and Luhan was drowning; they were all drowning. A gentle hand in his, shocking life back into his fading heart. The walls of the tank trembling.

''JONGDAE! JONGDAE!"

"GO! TAKE BAEKHYUN AND GO!"

"It's okay. It's okay. It'll pass." Baekhyun's gentle voice soothes him back to the present. Minseok clutches Baekhyun's hand under the covers, and squeezes his eyes shut as the entire room blazes with the first bolt of lightning. These storms always trigger memories Minseok tries to let go of; they trigger his remorse, calling for penitence. Its unspoken, the way Baekhyun finds his way into Minseok's room to ease him out of his nightmares. This is not the first storm they've weathered together, and Minseok knows it is not the last.

Thursday

Yixing knows he shouldn't but he can't help it. He can feel the small child hurting. He can feel the pain, sharp and hot, radiating off of his skin as his energy wanes out. Its like watching a camp fire die down; this small boy is nothing but smoke and embers, and Yixing knows he's not going to make it.

Yixing knows his parents are in the lobby, praying, unaware that their child is on the brink of nothingness, fate sealed long before they brought him into the emergency room. He knows he shouldn't draw more attention to himself but the boy, with his short hair and lanky figure, reminds him of another boy, who couldn't always time his landing and had the record for most broken bones amongst them.

Yixing remembers the night the proctors forced Yifan to fly higher, forced all of them to watch. Sehun was barely four, and shaking with fear, his own powers agitating the sky until Yifan fell. None of them reacted in time and in his nightmares, Yixing can sometimes hear the shattering bones he was not strong enough to heal.

He places gentle fingers over the boy's cold hand and focuses. He was not able to save Yifan, but maybe he can save someone else instead. The room hums suddenly with warm energy, and Yixing can feel the young boy absorb his power, can feel his heart strengthening, can see the color returning to his skin. The boy takes in a gulping breath of air, and the monitors around him being to keep loudly. Yixing leaves the room quietly. Like on so many occasions, he makes his way to the camera room and erases the tapes from that room, on that day. The people of this hospital will accredit another miracle to God, and Yixing will sleep with a sounder conscience.

Friday

Junmyeon finds it ironic that the darkness feels like drowning. It sits heavy on his heart, reminding him of everything he's lost.

Once upon a time, he was rather good at isolation.  He was born in the institute. He had no family to be ripped away from. He jumped when they said jump, he ate when they decided he'd earned it, and he spent his first few years of life thinking the world was made up of their commands and his submission.

Sehun and the others changed that. The institute wanted them to be weapons; they tried to teach them to kill and maim, but in their hearts, they taught themselves otherwise. The deaths they encountered were always accidents, always the consequence to losing control. They never blamed each other. But whether it was the smoke, or the fall, or the tank, someone always felt at fault. Someone would always carry a single name on their conscience.

Junmyeon thinks of this, of his family, as he suspends two tons of water in the air. He remembers the tank room, the way the walls stood like gravestones, and the way he could not get them out. With a flick of his wrist, the water propels as a jet into the wall of the empty pool, cracking the concrete. He does it again, stepping back as giant shards of rubble twist through the air. If only he could've been strong enough to save Luhan.

He fills the pool and walks on water. This too is ironic. The Professor once told him he and the others would be like gods amongst men. Junmyeon knows these gods are vengeful, and one day, the people who hurt him will pay for their sins.

Saturday

"Energy cannot be created or destroyed; that is the basic law of the universe." The physics professor instructs from the front of the lecture hall. Jongin writes down information from the powerpoint. He takes careful notes despite knowing that the universe sometimes has loopholes; he's proof of that.

The lecture ends and the stooped hall begins to empty.  Jongin gathers his belongings and makes his way to the courtyard. He pulls his peacoat tighter around himself as the frosty England air stirs the leaves, and his eyes wander over the Oxford cobblestones; all mismatched, all placed around each other to create something coherent.

"Hey," Kyungsoo brings him out of his reverie. He holds a paper cup out to him, and Jongin scrunches his nose.

"I don't drink--"

"I know," Kyungsoo sighs. "Its peppermint tea."

Jongin smiles, adding a little bow of gratitude. He makes space for Kyungsoo on the wooden bench, and they sip their drinks in the silence. They watch other students pass them by; Jongin feels out of place amongst people who are so paradoxically ordinary.

"How was your lesson?" He asks Kyungsoo, who takes a comtimplary drink before answering.

"The professor read medieval lit again. It was interesting." Kyungsoo shrugs. "Yours?"

"She talked about the laws of the universe; said matter can't be created. I thought about Jun and Minseok. They created a type of matter, right?"

Kyungsoo looks at the sky. He avoids Jongin's questioning gaze.

"Logic doesn't really apply to us. I think we'd be considered anomalies."

Jongin only nods.

"Lets go home," Kyungsoo says and they make their way to the main street in a pensative quiet. They take a cab home; Kyungsoo never teleports with Kai. They both know it reminds him too much of the last time it happened.

The night the tank room collapsed, Jongin made one choice to change everything. The others laid around him, sputtering, trying to swallow down as much air as humanly possible when the alarms started blaring.

"The-- the fence! Jongdae! Short circuit the fence!" Minseok yelled, helping a shaking Junmyeon to his feet.

They'd all looked, panicked, at the fence that was on the verge of collapse but still humming with electricity. They'd talked about escaping. They'd all fantasized about living different lives where their gifts were not weapons. Each of them had dreamt a version of life where they could be normal, and this was their one chance.

The forest around them was illuminated by Jongdae's lightning but Jongin's gaze was focused on Luhan. His eyes were closed, his wet hair matted on his forehead, as he lay amongst the rubble; dead.

"They're coming! RUN!" Junmyeon ordered, and Chanyeol was the first to turn his power against the men clad in white security gear. The trees came toppling down, giant flares of fire consuming their old trunks, and the entire forest became a war zone.

The wind howled, loud, angry and frightened, and slabs of steel flew through the air with it. Jongin could see his breath as razor sharp icicles cut through their surroundings, embedding themselves in the guards firing their weapons.

Jongin was immobile, his ears ringing with white noise as the entire world shook.

Yifan. Luhan. Tao.

He couldn't fathom watching someone else he loved die. Not like this. Not again.

"JONGDAE! JONGDAE!"

"GO! TAKE BAEKHYUN AND GO!"

The earth trembled beneath him. Someone screamed in pain. The air was cloying with dirt and dust and the smell of sulfur.

"SEHUN! WE'LL FIND YOU. GO." Junmyeon ordered and Jongin was choking on his desperation, useless as the legions of men clad in white came closer and closer.

Not again.

Jongin made his choice. He prayed they would forgive him. He prayed one day he'd get the chance to apologize.

Jongin reached out and placed his hand firm on Kyungsoo's shoulder. The universe went black and dry and Jongin felt a familiar compression on his lungs before their feet were touching solid concrete.

"YIXI-" Kyungsoo's shout died in his throat. He whipped around, eyes wide and furious.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" He snarled, rounding on Jongin.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, feeling the ground beneath him vibrate dangerously.

"TAKE US BACK. TAKE US BACK, NOW." Kyungsoo demanded, grabbing Jongin by the white collar of his uniform.

"I'm sorry." Jongin repeated, letting Kyungsoo shake him.

"HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU?" Kyungsoo screamed, and Jongin braced himself. He would take the brunt of Kyungsoo's fury, would take every angry hit, if it meant Kyungsoo was alive.

Instead, Kyungsoo fell to his knees. The sobs that raked through his entire body echoed down the empty street and Jongin only stood motionless. He prayed they would forgive him. He prayed one day Kyungsoo would forgive him.

Sunday

The room is black with smoke. Somewhere, someone is screaming for help but Chanyeol can't see anything, can't hear through the panic pulsing hot and red in his ears. The flames don't stop coming. They lick at his palms, set more of the world ablaze and he tries to close his fists but that only makes them stronger.

The curtains, the bed sheets-- everything around him is fire. He stumbles toward Baekhyun's bed, toward Jongin's bed; empty.

The dream shifts violently and Yixing is crouching next to Tao's body. Chanyeol wills himself to wake up; he's lived this too many times. Yixing concentrates and the room buzzes with a warm energy but as soon as it starts, it goes cold, like a graveyard, like a coffin, like wilted flowers in the middle of a winter freeze. The colors are draining fast from the world, turning sleep into nightmare. Yixing's voice echoes with familiarity, sometimes angry, sometimes disbelieving, sometimes full of so much grief Chanyeol wishes the fire were corporeal enough to scorch the memory away; "He's dead. It--it was the smoke..."

The real walls of his real life come into focus. Chanyeol tries to lie very still, but it feels like the shadows are crawling, unearthing a culpability he tried so hard to forget. He reaches over and turns on his bedside lamp; it's been two years and he isn't accustomed to darkness. He always had someone made out of pure light sleeping next to him. Chanyeol stares at the ceiling and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He ignores the taste of salt on his lips, the dry tear streaks on his cheeks.

"It wasn't your fault. We know you can't control it."

His movements are robotic, a monotonous whir of motion that barely get him through the day. Chanyeol never feels the cold of the tile floor, never even notices that the hot water stopped working in his shower weeks ago. He dresses in dry colors that never attract attention and makes his way to his small kitchen.

"Took you a while to wake up."

Chanyeol almost screams, his fists instantly sparking with orbs of flames as years of training kick into overdrive.

"Woah-- woah!" Sehun shoots up from the couch, his hands up in surrender. "Its just me!"

The air in Chanyeol's apartment stales and he drops to his knees, shaking his head in disbelief. The flames are extinguished. He's imagining this. He must be imagining this.

"Hyung?" Sehun whispers, frightened, the excitement in his heart deflating more and more with each second.

"This isn't real. This isn't real." Chanyeol whimpers, digging his nails into his palms. He spent weeks imagining Tao after the fire, all sad smile and empty eyes. Tao would never say anything, never throw blame, he'd just observe Chanyeol's life from the shadows, not letting Chanyeol forget.

"Hyung-- Its just me." Sehun tries again. He steps forward, kneels in front of his friend, and places a trembling hand on Chanyeol's shoulder.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to find you." His voice is an unsteady murmur, heavy with the sudden realization that they were together, after two years, Sehun wasn't alone anymore.

"Sehun?" Chanyeol's voice is quieter than a gust of wind, afraid, already broken.

"Yeah, its m--oomph!" Chanyeol doesn't let him finish. He launches himself at the younger boy and squeezes him in his arms. Sehun holds Chanyeol tightly, buries his face in the crook of Chanyeol's neck and half giggles and half sobs; relieved, ecstatic, and terrified all at once.

They both cry into the embrace, hearts swelling with unimaginable hope as the seconds tick by. Chanyeol's mind is buzzing, and he holds fistfuls of Sehun's shirt in his hands, pulling him even closer. Chanyeol wonders if this is what it feels like to be saved from drowning.

"Hyung," Sehun pulls away. Chanyeol runs his eyes over every aspect of Sehun's features, trying to memorize him, never wanting to forget any detail of this single moment.

"How did you find me?" Chanyeol whispers and Sehun gives him a tear stained smile.

"Google." He answers, before he's helping Chanyeol back on his feet.

"Hyung, the others. I know where they are."

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, deeper than any he's been able to manage in the past few years.

"Together-- we'll find them together."

© Chogisad

MASTERLIST

[kappasigmalife]

Eternal Purgatory: Chp 1, welcome to campus

Eternal Purgatory: Chapter one

Welcome to AU

 Today marks the worst day of my life, joining a frat. My dumbass dad is forcing me cause I can't stand to alone forever in my room with my books and writing, even going as far as to take my tuition away if I don’t. my name is Christopher Matthews and I come from a long line of assholes controlling the mass market of industry, and as the next head of the family corporation, he expects me to be part of his alma mater and brotherhood. God do I wish for death right about now.

Christopher begins talking on the phone with his father

“dad you can’t be fucking serious about this, they want me in an initiation and you know frat guys will do something really heinous and I don’t think I can handle that.”

Christopher’s father Joseph talks to him pretty pissed off about the situation.

“Oh I’m so sorry that I’m paying for college while you spend all your time writing those weird stories and keeping yourself locked from the outside world. Get over yourself, you have to venture out on your own and get used to society, how else are you going to take over the company?” Chris responds

“Yeah that’s right dad I got to do everything you want, no use in arguing with it anyhow, I know your minds made up, but rest assured I don’t condone this and something will happen, I know it.” Joseph on the other end

“Jesus Christ again with you bitching about taking risks, hows about you stop trying to be such a little bitch and do as your told, not that you ever proved yourself before.” Chris sighs before hanging up

“Love you too dad.”

Chris looks outside his window seeing a bunch of people crowding around in frat sweatshirts and gets a knock on his door.

Chris rolling his eyes

“gee I wonder who it could possibly be, not that I would know.”

As he opens the door a bunch of guys rush him placing a bag over his head dragging him off. As he has the bag taken off his head, he finds himself feeling bitter cold and notices they are in the basement of the dining hall on campus. The frat guys come forth and welcome chris and several other young college students to the freezer.

Frat guy

“welcome maggots to the initiation, tonight you venture into the freezer for one hour wearing only your skivvies and when the hours up, you’re going to be brothers.”

Chris glares at them and asks

“So you want us to strip down and go into freezing cold as you guys get drunk and wait?” Frat guy

“yes that’s exactly what we want.” Chris strips off his clothes and walks in flipping off one of the frat guys staring at him

“Yeah I know I’m covered in scars get over it, just let us out when your done waiting.” Frat guy

“okay just for that kid, two hours for you”

Chris thinking to himself.

“Yeah I’ll be waiting with bells on.”

Chris looks at his watch as he shivers in the cold, noticing it’s been well over two hours and the frat brothers haven’t come for him. More time passes and Chris notices the lock turning, showing that the dining hall has been closed. Shivering in the back, Chris contemplates what he said and knew the brothers forgot about him and he told his dad so about the risks to going for the brotherhood.

“I told that asshole, I told him I didn’t want to do it, but he made me anyways, god I’m fucking freezing.” As Chris finishes thinking he closes his eyes waiting for help.

As he awakens he notices hes in his boxers in the quad and looks around

“huh, guess I was able to make it out after all, I wonder who let me…, this is not my campus”

Chris looks around quite a bit more seeing different toned people walking around heading to classes glaring at him

“What the hell, it’s not even Halloween, what’s up with the floating and scarred people… oh fuck I’m dreaming.”

As Chris ducts into the bushes he notices a  set of feet walking towards him and the person is wearing gold boots that are bejeweled and stands waiting for him to come out.

“Its okay, you can come out, there isn’t anything to be afraid of.” Chris crawls out of the bushes and notices a hulking man with piercing blue eyes and blonde hair slicked back in gold armor carrying a straight sword on his back and lending his hand out to help Chris up. Chris looks at him and immediately questions everything

Chris blinking and seeing if its all true

“okay did I stumble to a renassaince fair, cause your in armor and carrying a qhat I can only presume is the blade Excalibur, nice workmanship btw.” The man stares back at him and shakes his head.

“young man I am Dean Arthur, and this is not a replica of Excalibur, it’s the real thing, your in purgatory.” Chris’s eyes widen and looks around.

“so I’m dead, your king Arthur, and this place is a school.” Arthur

“Yes you died before your time came and so you will continue your education here, at Afterlife University.” Chris sighs and face palms contemplating the situation.

“good god I am in an never ending hell.” Arthur brings chris to his office registering him for classes as chris looks outside and sees a fat guy smoking a bowl outside the window. Arthur looks out and opens yelling at the young man.

“Mr. Stone, I have told you repeatedly no marijuana on the campus, recreational use may be legal, but only off school grounds.” Mr. Stone puts out the bowl exhaling his smoke in the air.

“Sorry, I keep forgetting, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind but had a test coming up and the nerves you know.”

Arthur looks at him getting annoyed.

“my boy, your so bright but yet your careless and lazy, why not be more like the new student, straight A’s and responsible.” Chris looks at Arthur and raising his eyebrow.

“actually after all the stuff that just happened, I could go for some of that.” Stone looks at him up and down.

“honestly dude, I can set you up with my dealer, hes super chill, but maybe get some clothes first.” Chris looks down at himself wearing only his boxers.

“Oh god that’s right, anyway I can get some pants.” Arthur looking at him in embarrassment.

“Apologies I didn’t expect this to happen, most come to purgatory with clothes on.” Chris with a blank expression

“well I didn’t, so get me some clothes before I freeze to death, again.” Arthur gets Chris a blue flannel shirt with a pair of brown cargo pants and has him change. After getting clean clothes on Chris is given a registration number for classes and an address for his housing off campus. Arthur tells him that he is going to meet a lot of nice people around but to be wary of a few unwanted figures. As he walks he notices a bunch of game characters, historical figures, and even people from canceled tv shows hanging around.

Chris looks onward to see everything around him from the students to the teachers

“Huh, so everything that dies comes here, even fandoms, that explains a lot.”

As he walks he suddenly bumps into a chubby goth boy with a black goatee and wearing a dark maroon flannel and jeans.

The boy he bumps into looks at him.

“geez man could you be anymore clumsy.”

Chris dusts himself off and looks back at the young man who looks upset.

“apologies, im new and I gotta get used to things around here.” The young man looks back at him glaring up and down.

“Whatever country boy, just watch your step.”

Chris questioning what he meant.

“do you mean you’ll hurt me, cause I won’t take that lying down.” The young man widens his eyes responding.

“oh no I mean watch your literal step, if you don’t focus, youll fall down the stairs over there.” Chris looks at the spiraling staircase going off campus and sees the point.

“Oh thanks, again im sorry to bump into you but I gotta go move in to my new place.”

as he walks away the young man in the maroon flannel covers his pants with his books.

“damn it hes cute.” An incarnation of link from legend of Zelda comes over seeing what occurred.

“so Brendan, got a nice little surprise there.”

Brendan glares at link with his hair getting fluffed up.

“shut it elf boy, I highly doubt that he plays for the same team.”

As Chris reaches the house he looks at his cargo pants that tore lightly.

“that chubby goth boy owes me a new pair, or a date.” as he opens the door he notices the same fat guy who smoked a bowl outside Arthurs and another man who comes in wearing a Naruto headband and a Tokyo ghoul mask over his face. Stone walks over and offers chris a joint and a shot of rum to welcome him to the home.

“hey there, im paul and this is Robby, looks like you’re the new roommate, your rooms down the hall next to mine, just clean up after yourself and don’t touch my stash.” Chris shakes his hand taking the joint and lighting it up.

“trust me, thank you so much for this I cant believe the day I’ve had, I don’t think I need any more surprises”

Robby takes the mask off tripping over some stacks of naruto manga trying to talk.

Chris looks down at him and sees if hes alright.

“so is this something you get used to at all.” Paul takes a controller out and begins playing call of duty.

“not a chance, just happy to have two new moneymakers in the house.” Chris helps Robby up only to quickly turn around.

“What do you mean two moneymakers.”

Paul just playing his game answering,

“don’t worry about it.”

The door opens to reveal a young woman wearing a pale green tee-shirt, black jeans and brown hair tied in a ponytail walking in.

“well, this is the address and it looks like… OH MY GOD.”

Chris’s eyes bulge out of his sockets and stares at the girl.

“HELEN!!!” “CHRIS!”

The two stare at each other and watch as a robed figure comes out with a clipboard. Checking some papers for the day.

“Paul, can you tell me when the new students arrive…. Oh their here, hmm as yes Christopher Matthews age 22, died of frostbite, Helen Monroe, age 24, died of accidental overdose, my names reefer welcome to the house, er are you listening.

The two of them glare at each other only to say the same thing as they contemplate the situation.

“I’m gonna fucking kill dad.”

[ezra-blue]

You’ve Got Something - 41

For @baronvonriktenstein‘s Messy!AU

41: Your Truth

Gat reconsiders. Gojyo reflects.

Word Count: ~7500

WARNING FOR CANON-TYPICAL GORE.

41: Your Truth

Dawn had come and painted the floor of the bakery with soft, gray light. Sharak stepped out of the bakeshop to the front of the shop to stretch, yawning, but was startled for a moment as a shadow flashed over her view. She shook it off, then chuckled as the shadow moved along, as the janitor kept sweeping the floors. “Ah, I forgot you'd be here. You surprised me, Gat.” She rubbed the grit from her eyes, blinking her vision clear. Gat paused for a moment, holding the broom upright and straightening up.

“Usually, you're leaving now.” Gat let a curious eye rove the contour of her face, and she chuckled.

“The usual morning manager's been unwell.” She shrugged. “I'm covering for him until he can get it together, but really, I hope it's soon.” She yawned again, then let herself loll against the counter, elbow landing next to the candy jars. “I'm much more used to the nights than the mornings, and I miss falling asleep with Hassan.”

Gat hummed. “Husband?” He paused, then averted his gaze. “Not to assume.”

“Eh, partner.” Sharak lifted both hands. “And I'm not shy about it. We're the best of friends, he's in love with me, I enjoy his company. We are both satisfied with what we have, and though I would be unhappy if he were to decide our situation is inadequate, I would not stop him if he desired more.”

“I see.” Gat returned to sweeping, and Sharak observed passively over the counter.

“Ah, but it seems unfair that you know me and I know so little of you. I hired you and I hardly know more than I knew in order to feel confident in that.”

"There's little to know." Gat didn't halt sweeping, and Sharak laughed languidly.

"What about your other jobs?" Gat paused for a moment, as Sharak put her hands on her hips. "You said this was a third job, how do you manage that?"

"Timing." Gat shrugged, and resumed the gentle, hypnotic swish of the broom across the tile. "Here in the early morning, garage from ten to six, and the restaurant at nights."

Sharak whistled. "When do you sleep?"

Gat, again, shrugged. "Insomnia. Since I was a teenager." Sharak muttered to herself in wonder, and Gat glanced over his shoulder. "I sleep in the morning between here and the garage, sometimes."

"Good God, man." Sharak clicked her tongue. "I suppose I envy that of you. I wish I didn't need to sleep."

Gat turned and kept at his task, not meeting Sharak's eyes. "It's helpful. Sometimes. If things need to get done. Sometimes, it's too quiet." He paused to sweep the debris he'd gathered into the dustpan, his motions deliberate. "Nice to keep busy, at least."

"Is there anyone waiting for you at home, though?" Sharak canted her body forward onto the counter, watching as Gat wiped his hands on a dustrag, then grabbed the cleaning spray.

"Mm." Gat's face fell for a moment. "That's..." He shook his head. "Yeah."

"Ohh." Sharak put a hand over her mouth as Gat began to spray and wipe down the tables. "And what is she like?"

"He's..." Gat trailed off, and Sharak, eyes wide and cheeks sucked in with embarrassment, slowly rose to a stand again.

"I did not mean to assume. I'm sorry."

Gat shook his head. "It's... not that." He put the rag down and smeared his hands off on his shirt. "He's a college student. Works hard, too. He wants to get into law."

"Ooh." Sharak leaned in again. "That's, er..." She sized Gat up, apprising him so obviously she may as well have been a numismatist with a magnifying glass. "You're..."

"He's younger than me." Gat paused heavily. "By a lot. But it didn't matter to him, and..." A smile slipped into place. "He was different." He took up the rag and spray again. "I'm putting him through school. He's got money from his family, but that's going to dry up."

"Ah, limited funds, the bane of all students." Sharak clicked her tongue.

"Mm. I can't ask him to work. He has classes and he volunteers for a good cause.” Gat gave the table a good swipe, then dried it off. “So, this is fine.”

“What, he can't work at all? You have to grind your fingers to the bone?” Sharak crossed her arms, continuing to study Gat from around the counter. “I appreciate the hard work you do, but he must really be something for you to do this to yourself.”

Gat answered with a grunt, instead continuing to clean the tables. Sharak watched him, obviously waiting, and Gat put his rag down and faced Sharak. “In... in my culture...”

“You're First Nations, right?” Sharak cocked an eyebrow, but Gat shook his head.

“Apache.” Gat pursed his lips. “Hazel... we met when his church came to volunteer at the reservation. There had been tornadoes, they were helping mend fences. He and I met, and...” Gat rubbed the back of his head and lowered his eyes. “I was drawn to him. He was enamored of me. We corresponded long distance for a while, and decided when he left for college, I would go with him.” He paused, lips pursed. “My family...”

Sharak, curious now, touched her lip, brows furrowed. “The traditional sort? I know how that can be.”

“Mm.” Gat hung his head. “The tribe disapproved, but my grandfather was accepting. He said that a man left his tribe when he married to join his wife's family, and urged me to care for him like I would a wife.” Gat thumped his chest with his palm. “My duty is to care for him and his. I'll do whatever I have to take care of him.” With that, he returned his focus to his tasks, and Sharak sighed.

"Full credit to your honor, good sir. Believe me, I appreciate that the floors are clean each morning, that the windows are not smudged, and our tables aren't crumby, and best of all, that I don't have to pull anyone from my team to make all of that happen, but you speak so highly of this young man, it seems a shame that even if you're not tired enough to share your sleep with him, you don't seem to make enough time to spend with him."

Gat paused again, but kept his eyes low this time. "Mm." He shook his head, and murmured, "He has a lot to learn. I'm giving him a chance to learn some lessons on his own." He picked up again, not quite looking at Sharak. Sharak clicked her tongue.

“Guardian, protector, and husband, is it?” She shook her head. “Does he really want all that?”

This elicited half of a laugh. “No, but for now, he needs it. I want to watch him succeed, even if it is from here.”

“If you say so.” Sharak stretched her arms out again, then checked her watch. “I've got cakes in and muffins to put out. Do you want a snack of some sort?”

“No, thank you.” Gat kept his head low, kept his nose to the grindstone. He heard the bakeshop door swing shut behind her, then paused, rag in hand, and closed his eyes tight.

He'd been trying to let Hazel do what he'd thought was right, but it had become too hard to watch. He remembered his grandfather's words again:

“Someday, you will leave us and cleave to another. When that day comes, Nenegatty, you will be her hunter, you will obey her family's rules, and you will take care of her and everything that comes with her.”

He'd never felt limited by the reservation, but talking to Hazel had made him curious about what lay beyond. Still, he remembered where he'd come from, and everything he'd learned from it. He kept his hair long, he remembered the old stories and their morals, and yes, he was doing everything he could to take care of the person whose camp he stood in. However, it had come time to acknowledge that he'd deliberately forgotten the harder parts of everything that meant.

Without a sound, he found his phone in his pocket and started to review all of the messages he'd made himself too busy to see.

This was no time to forget what was important.

He still remembered her. He tried not to think of her, but he still remembered.

He still remembered being tiny and staring up at her from flat on his back on the dusty ground outside of and under their trailer. Her long red hair, bound in a braid as thick as cord, still swayed in motion as she froze, petrified, above him, eyes wide, jaw agape. Her hand was still on the backswing, trembling in midair in the aftermath of her strike.

“Oh, Gojyo, sweetie--” She hitched back a sob, as he blinked back the pain radiating through his cheek.

“Mama, why?” He tried to roll up to a sit, then lifted a hand coated with a dust to touch where it hurt, but she swooped down, snatched his wrist and squeezed. “Ow!” Tears pricked at his eyes, and her expression didn't change, twisted and contorted in horror, and he pushed in vain at the vise-grip she had on his arm. “Hurts!”

“Oh, my baby,” she half-sobbed, half-gasped, wet trails already running down her face, then she dragged him up against her chest and threw the door open. Gojyo could see the two sharp points on the corner of the thin screen door, the bright silver of the worn edges dulled with a trace of his blood.

Just one of the funny things about their home, Gojyo had thought. He and Mama had shared their tiny little house on wheels in the middle of a dusty plain, far out from even the other trailers. He stayed here most of the time, as she would leave and lock the door with a promise of, “Mama'll be back.” She did, sometimes with money with little numbers on them, sometimes with plastic bags of food, sometimes with boxes of canned beans and instant rice. Sometimes, she'd just send him to bed with his stomach growling. Sometimes, she would send him outside and have yelling phone calls with someone. Then, she'd come back and stare at him, not talking to him. Sometimes, he wondered if something was wrong. Like when she would just stare at him, eating when she hadn't given herself anything, or watch him playing after her angry phone calls. When he would ask her what was wrong, she would just tousle his hair and force a weak smile.

“Mama loves you, baby,” she'd tell him, then whisper, “no matter what.”

She did, he knew it, she loved him, he was her good boy and her baby, so everything was okay.

She was saying it now, too, “Mama loves you, everything’s okay, Mama loves you,” as she cleaned his face, holding the back of his hair like a lioness gripping her cub by the nape of its neck, and he watched, cheek stinging, unable to turn away, as red and brown drained into the sink and over the scratched up Sesame Street dishes left in the bottom. He shut his eyes tight. He wanted to believe when she said it was okay, but everything hurt so much today.

The yelling on the phone had been louder today, and her voice, broken when she was screaming, was still hoarse in his ear. When Mama got loud, he'd just run further from the house, his action figure held high as he saved the day from the shadows of the patchy tall grass and the crow in the tree. She'd come out to watch him when she was done, and he ran up to her, and he'd been talking, and God, he couldn't remember what it had been about, only that you were so loud, Mama, did something happen? Can I help, Mama? Why are you so mad? Did I do something?

And that was when she'd whipped around and screamed at him to shut up and brought her hand down, knocking him into the open door. That bottom corner had always been sharp, he'd scratched his leg on it a few times and had learned to skirt around it. He hadn't caught himself in time, and oh, maybe that's why his face was bleeding.

She yanked him out of the sink, eyes wide as her gaze darted over him, over and over. His blood was on her sleeves, on her ragged pants, on her face where the water had splashed back mixed with the tears running down her face, and just as he reached out to wipe her tears away, she jumped back from him as if his tiny fingers could cut. She grabbed the gauze from over the toilet and pasted it on hastily with a few strips of papery tape, her hands shaking, mouth frozen in a warped half-sob, and she finally broke down crying, when he rubbed the bandage.

“It doesn't hurt no more,” he lied, trying not to flinch when he found the cuts under the bandage. “It's okay, see?”

“Oh, sweetie, n-no.” She tried to reach for him again, then flinched back, sobbing again, clapping both hands over her mouth and shaking in her shoes. “They're gonna take him, they're really gonna take him this time...”

“Mama?” He moved to hug onto her as she continued to wail into her palms. Maybe she wasn’t kissing his hurt because it was bloody and stuff, but he wanted a hug, that was how it went. If he tripped and skinned his knee, she'd put a bandage on it and kiss it better, and he'd get a hug. If he wanted cornbread and there was no cornbread and he pitched a fit so she had to put him in the corner, she'd hug him after he apologized. He was hurt, she was hurt. Hugs made things okay.

There was no hug. She grabbed his shoulder, keeping him at arm's length, and whispered, “Mama'll be back.” She pushed him back, pivoting for the door, and he watched as the screen door fell shut. He heard the lock click, heard her footsteps as she retreated from their single-wide. Something else hurt now, deep in his chest, but maybe there would be a hug when she came back. It would be okay.

So he waited. His cheek still throbbed, but he ignored it as best as he could, playing with his battered old action figures. When he got bored, he crawled up to the loft to the bed they shared and traced all the blue triangles on Mama's quilt. “Mama,” he muttered to himself, imagining the word in the jagged angles of each shape. She'd told him, this was a present that Mama's Papa gave to her Mama when she was born, that was what her people did, it was a naming gift. Her name meant “clear water” in her language, and all the triangles were cresting waves in a wild river. He'd asked why his Papa hadn't given her a quilt for him too, and she'd said it was because he wasn't their people and his name wasn't in their language, and why would he do anything like that anyway, and then she'd been angry for a long time. Now, he counted the triangles as he traced them, as high as he could go, wishing every time he got back to the corner he started at that Mama would come back, come back, come back.

But she hadn't. The prairie went pink and red with sunset, his stomach growled against the quilt, and Mama wasn't back. He wasn't sure how long it had been, only that it had felt like forever. He went and watched the door, stretching his fingers out and wanting, as desperately as he could, for the door to creak and swing open and for her to come in with cornbread and hot dogs and a hug to make everything okay again, but she didn't come.

Maybe he should wait outside, just so he could be a few steps closer to getting the hug and to everything being okay.

He bit his lip at the thought. He wasn't supposed to, not when she wasn't home.

But sometimes, she'd send him out to play alone, and she'd always come for him some time.

He could reach the lock if he got onto the tippiest-top of his tippy-toes,and he pushed the door open, scooting carefully around the sharp corner of the metal door, and looked around. The birds were calling in the distance, shouting down the sun, and when Gojyo looked up towards the stars, he could see them all flying in circles overhead. Curious, he began to run in circles too, bigger and bigger around the house, until he finally looped around behind the house and saw all the birds gathered around the spindly old tree.

And Mama.

Mama was laying on the ground under the tree with a broken branch in front of her, flat on her belly like she was sleeping, and all the birds, big ugly black ones and the bald ones with brown wings, were flying around her and landing on her. She was being attacked! She must have been so scared! Gojyo sucked in a breath, and ran at the birds and Mama, yelling as loud as he could:

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” The birds screamed and hollered, but they scattered at his scream, and Gojyo bent down over Mama. “They're gone. You don't hafta hide anymore. Are you coming home now?”

Mama didn't answer. She should probably move, there was an awful dark puddle under her, she was probably all wet and muddy. Gojyo cocked his head and shook her shoulder, moving the thick cord of her hair. Her belt was tied to the broken branch in front of her, and the other end was looped around her neck, and when Gojyo touched her stiff shoulder, he could see an ugly purple bruise on her neck. He couldn't understand why she was wearing it that way or why she'd decided to break the tree like that, but maybe she would tell him. “Mama, get up. S'lonely in the house without you.”

Mama didn't say anything.

He tried to roll her over from her side to her back, and winced, because she had a cut now too, a big one on her tummy. The stupid birds had been picking at her like they picked at the squirrels on the road! “Mama's not a squirrel,” he grumbled, and prodded at the thick rings of red stuff hanging out of the cut, thick like the braid of her hair. Something told him that was supposed to be inside her, so he carefully, carefully poked everything back in, tugged her shirt down over it, then kissed the part of her tummy that hadn't been cut. Her shirt was wet and red and smelled like metal. “All better! Can ya get up now?”

She didn't. Her eyes were closed, but Gojyo could still see the little streaks where she'd been crying. “It's okay. I'm not mad. I'm sorry I made you push me.” He sat down and curled up, knees tight to his chest. “I'll wait right here for you, like you always say. Please come back.”

And so he waited.

The sun went down, the night fell swiftly. He forgot he was hungry. The air got cold fast, too fast, and Gojyo pulled his skinny legs in and shivered in the night air. Mama was probably cold, too, wasn't she? He tromped back inside and grabbed her quilt and threw it over her, tucking it around her. “Warm an' cozy, Mama.” He petted her hair like she did to him, her thin fingers running down the long strands of his hair. He turned her cheek to kiss her goodnight, and that was when he noticed her eye was gone.

The stupid crows probably took it. Mama told him stories about the crows: tricksters and thieves. He whimpered at the thought, and looked around the plain a few times. Maybe it was still here, hidden in the grass where the crows nested. Maybe he could find it and give it back. Some crows had magic, maybe she needed her eye back to break a curse. Would she come back if he gave it back? He kept his arms folded tight to his chest and ventured into the prairie to find out.

Mama had told him their people were hunters, once, that the men hunted and the women took care of the camp, and the men and women took care of each other. He had figured out that he was only half that, but maybe it was enough. He'd never had a Papa, not like Mama's Papa, but if he could do this, it might be enough.

The sun rose and fell twice. The day was hot, but Gojyo never stopped hunting for Mama’s eye. Sometimes, when he went away, the crows and vultures would circle around her again, and he’d have to run them off. His face itched in the heat, but that was probably just because Mama hadn’t kissed it better yet. All the more reason to keep trying to fix her.

The moon rose twice and fell once. Gojyo didn’t want to take the quilt from Mama, she had to be so cold! He huddled up next to her, knowing he couldn’t sleep yet. He was her good boy, he would make her happy, and everything would be okay.

He'd been resting, curled up next to Mama with his chin on his knees, tired from looking, tired from running back to chase that nasty birds away over and over, tired from being so hungry he'd forgotten he was hungry, and Mama still wasn't back. It was night again, and cold, and dark, and though he thought he might have fallen asleep a few times, he was still so tired. All of a sudden, it was bright, too bright, and Gojyo looked up to see two bright circles, hotter than the daytime sun on his skin, beaming from nearby.

“What's wrong, boy?” He could see the silhouette of a broad-brimmed hat, a big man in a cowboy hat and big boots, and a third circle of bright shining on him from the flashlight in his meaty hand. “What're ya doin' out here? Where's your Ma?” Then, the third circle moved over to Mama, and tumbled to the ground, the flashlight's beam splayed out wide over the cracked earth. “Mary, mother of God.”

More cars came, lots of black and white cars, and soon, people. People from the tribe, all with their long hair, carrying the scent of whiskey, all staring at Mama where she lay. The man in the cowboy hat had shoved him in the back of the first car and gave him water and a granola bar, but he didn't want them, he wanted Mama.

He could hear them all talking, "God damn Pavati," "Guess the town bicycle's had her last ride," "Well, that boy sure as hell ain't mine, so I ain't got nothin' to do with him," but he didn't understand any of it. He didn't understand why the big white box car with the red plus on the side was scooping Mama up in sheets, but when the man in the cowboy hat wearing the six-pointed star came back, he asked, "Where're they takin' Mama? When's Mama coming back?"

The man – the sheriff, Gojyo would later realize – shook his head. "Son, I don't know how else to tell you this, but your Mama ain't comin' back."

With those words, everything else became a blur, Gojyo's memories swallowed by grief, blinded by pain, and the sound of his own voice, crying and screaming, wanting her to hear him, begging, begging her, "MAMA, NO! COME BACK!"

And somehow, in all of that, one voice rang clear in his head, one nameless sheriff's offhand remark: “Guess that halfbreed boy of hers just wasn't worth sticking around for anymore.”

And Gojyo screamed and screamed for his mother, the only one who'd ever been there...

Gojyo shot awake to the scream of his own heartbeat in his ears. Poison rose up into his throat, and he barely had time to find the trash can left at his side before everything he'd poured into himself the night before rocketed out of him. His throat, nose, and eyes stung, and he could barely hear a soothing voice over his shoulder:

"That's alright, better out than in."

He caught his breath, and a slim hand reclaimed the bin as Gojyo cleared his eyes and blew his nose, then squinted around to find he was in Koumyou's study, under a blanket on the leather sofa, and the entire room reeked of sweat and alcohol. Or maybe that was just him. Koumyou himself returned from emptying the bin with a glass of water and aspirin, and his usual placid smile. "You will want these."

Gojyo was about to say something, but his head throbbed when he opened his mouth again, reminding him that it had been aching since he'd woken up. He zipped his mouth shut tight and nodded curtly a few times, and mumbled gratitude as he took the medicine and drank the entire glass of water. Koumyou smiled with approval and pulled his leather chair around to face him. "I imagine you're a bit confused. Kouryuu brought you here; apparently you became a bit hysterical after overindulging in alcohol, and he had wanted to take you home but did not know where you lived. As you were in no state to give your address, and since he is aware you live alone and likely shouldn't wake alone, he asked me to mind you." Koumyou chuckled, as Gojyo, dumbfounded, nodded a few times. He made a mental note to thank Sanzo for not letting him choke on his own vomit, one he was pretty sure he'd forget, but shit, it was the thought that counted, right?

"Now, then," Koumyou went on, brisk and breezy as ever, "Can I get you something solid to eat? Nothing heavy, of course, and I'm worthless in the kitchen – toast and jam? Just toast?" Gojyo shook his head, knowing he couldn't trust his stomach right now and his appetite was dead anyway.

Every time he blinked, he saw birds and guts and the water in his throat tried to drown him.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Koumyou couldn't quite hide his disappointment, or maybe it was genuine concern, under his professional tones. Gojyo couldn't tell. "At any rate, you're only a bit late for our previous appointment."

This worked a word out of Gojyo: "Appointment?" Koumyou smiled, as if this were mundane and it was funny that Gojyo was even asking.

"We have a standing appointment, don't we?" Koumyou indicated the calendar with a wave, and Gojyo realized he meant their therapy sessions. The blood drained from his face and hands, leaving him cold and clammy. "I did try to call you when you were late, but--"

"My phone's busted," Gojyo muttered, and let his head sink into his hands. Fuck. He couldn't do this, not now. He was still sick to his stomach, and Koumyou wouldn't do anything but leave his head spinning. "I... I can't."

"Nonsense. We're both here, and I dearly wish to speak with you. I imagine you have much to say. Just like I told you: better out than in." Koumyou kept his smile in place as he took up his little notepad, crossed one leg over the other as a makeshift desk, and Gojyo crossed his arms, closing himself in.

"I'm not in a talking mood."

"Ah? Unfortunate. I am." Koumyou tapped his lip with the end of his pen. "Where do you wish to begin? You could let me pick, of course, but this is for you, not me." Gojyo shook his head.

"I just wanna go back to sleep."

"I'd rather keep you lucid; you did imbibe rather heavily, and I can only imagine you did so on an empty stomach." Gojyo cringed, but tried to make it look like a scowl. Koumyou flicked the end of the pen back and forth. "Kouryuu told me you and Hakkai have ended your relationship. That's unfortunate; he seemed to make you happy."

Gojyo licked his lips, then forced calm into his voice. "Yeah. Well. Guess you want the dirty details. He went back to his ex. I stepped aside so he could be happy. No point in fighting once someone else makes that choice. That's all I got."

Koumyou clicked his tongue. “Is that true? Remember, if there is something causing you pain inside, the only way to cure it is to let it out.”

“Huh. The way I see it, ripping it all out of you just tears the wound bigger.” Gojyo crossed his arms. “Fuck, people keep trying to make me talk, but it doesn't help or change a damn thing.”

“Ah, so you have been talking to others? I should be jealous, shouldn't I?” Koumyou giggled weakly, but sat forward. “And what have you been telling them?”

Gojyo sealed his mouth tight, knowing Koumyou would just twist around any answer he gave. “It doesn't matter.”

“I think it matters. It matters very much to me.” Koumyou switched legs, crossing the other over the top and leaning his clipboard on it. He had already written a lot, and somehow that annoyed Gojyo just as much as the fact that he was still smirking. “Remember, I am here to help.”

“I didn't ask for help. I don't need help.”

“I'm offering it nonetheless.” Koumyou shrugged, his voice as even and temperate as ever, and that stung even more. It was easy to get angry when someone was yelling back at you, but Koumyou's calm just made him feel like he was spitting fire at a wall. “My goal is to encourage you to understand yourself such that you can express yourself and become comfortable in your own skin. This is with or without Hakkai.” Koumyou leaned in as Gojyo ground his teeth together. “Perhaps yes or no questions will be easier. Can you admit that bottling things up and ignoring your difficult emotions is making your life more difficult?”

“I already said, it doesn't matter.” Gojyo kicked his feet out and folded his arms tighter. Koumyou shook his head.

“That was neither a 'yes' nor a 'no,' I'm afraid. Gojyo, do you think you will be able to accomplish your goals in life if you continue to struggle the way you have?”

“What goals?” Gojyo huffed. “I got a job. I got a roof over my head. I get by. That's all there really is. Maybe I wish there was more, but there isn't. Not for me.”

“Ah, my.” Koumyou sighed, but it sounded insincere and Gojyo felt the flames burn hotter in his chest. He wasn't sure what would come out of him if Koumyou pushed him any further, but of course, Koumyou had to press: “Do you truly think that giving up on wanting more will give you happiness?”

“I told you already!” Gojyo jumped to his feet, head spinning, stomach churning, fists clenched, and poison in his throat. “It doesn't matter! Happy, sad, pissed, whatever, it doesn't matter! Shit, you really think fucking with my brain is gonna change a damn thing about my fucking life?!” He stomped his feet, arching over Koumyou. “So what if I'm sad! So what if I'm pissed off! A guy gets what he deserves, don't he?! I deserved what I got! I reached for the fucking sun and got burned like I ought'a!” He ground his teeth together, rage only inflated by Koumyou's flat expression. It was like Koumyou wasn't hearing him! “No amount of feelings and emotions and communications are gonna change the fact that I just ain't good enough to keep!” Saying it out loud broke something in him, like a bubble out of the mouth of a man drowning, and he slowly deflates. “And I'm never gonna be good enough. That's... that's why everyone gives up.” He sank back down, his hips sinking into the cushion, his head falling to his chest. “You're wasting your time on me. None of this matters.”

“Ah.” Koumyou dropped his pen and tossed his pad aside. “I see. You draw your pattern and it remains unbroken, and you simply resign yourself to what you have now because you no longer see the point in moving past your roadblocks.” He held his hands up, smiling as broad as ever, except Gojyo no longer had the will to get angrier at him for it. “Sink your ships and burn the harbors, you'll go to war no more, is that it?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Gojyo shook his head. “What do you want me to do?”

“I'm not asking you to do anything.” Koumyou clapped his hands together and laced his fingers. “I wanted you to communicate with me. The problems I see, and yes, I do see some troublesome patterns in your thinking, are not so simple as a crossed wire or a broken bulb.” He tapped his forehead. “It's in our minds, Gojyo, and we think in words. You must untangle the words and replace the faulty thoughts to make your mind run correctly.”

“It's bigger than words.” Gojyo rubbed his eyes. His brain was aching to the eye sockets. “I can't just think right, if nothing else is working right. It's not that simple.”

“No, it's not.” Koumyou lifted his shoulders to his ears, then rested his arms on the rests of the chair. “But anything worth having comes with a challenge, don't you think? From staying on a positive path to succeeding in love, there will be challenges to overcome.” Gojyo bit his lip, chest aching as Koumyou vaguely gestured. “Small things, like difficult customers or tough economic straits or incompatible tastes in food or music, to a betrayal of trust, these are hurdles that must be jumped. However, your solution, from what I can tell, is to lay down in front of your bigger hurdles and not to face them at all. You put up the white flag.” Koumyou rested his cheek against his hand and heaved a sigh as Gojyo tried to dam the ache back in his chest, curling forward onto his thighs. “Are you frightened of failing? That you'll trip and get hurt again? You will never know how far you can go unless you're willing to try.”

“I've tried,” Gojyo hissed, then slammed his fists down on the cushion beside him. “I did try, damn it! And all I ever get is hurt for it! I stick my neck out, but everyone I reach for just fucking vanishes and it's all my fucking fault no matter how I look at it, and there ain't shit I can do about it!”

Koumyou heaved another sigh, this one carrying the weight of the moon. “Is that your truth, then? I'm very sorry for that.” He uncrossed his legs and got to his feet. “If that's your immutable truth, then that's fine, but I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do for you.” He crossed the room to the bookshelf. “A parting gift, perhaps.” He selected a thin tome and held it out for Gojyo, and Gojyo realized he'd never seen Koumyou without a smile on before. It was making him queasy all over again, but Koumyou didn't seem to notice his expression twist with pain. “Here.” Koumyou gently nudged the book into his palm: “Easy Meals For One.” The little tome was emblazoned with reviews promising recipes that were simple enough for beginners, but Gojyo couldn't even decode that much. Koumyou, however, broke into a smile again. “I'm going to be living alone soon, you see –  or at least, I thought I was, though it seems Kouryuu will be with me a bit longer. But I thought I'd teach myself to cook.” He giggled a bit, backing away as Gojyo turned the book over in his hands a few times. “Trouble is, Toudai's spoiled me. I didn't care for those recipes, but perhaps you'll like them.” Koumyou turned from him, folding his arms over his chest. “If nothing else, perhaps learning to cook for yourself will be a nice distraction until the pain eases.”

That cut through to Gojyo somehow – he was just throwing him away, like everyone else had. “Screw you, old man.” He jumped up to his feet, stomach and head aching with every step, then threw the study door open, and stormed out. Koumyou didn't turn to watch them, instead moving to the window to watch as Gojyo skulked off into the dim, cloudy morning. He heaved a deep sigh, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

The study door creaked open slowly. Koumyou didn't have to turn to know who was there; his presence as familiar as dust in a library, as cool and calm as the peace between the pages of a book. “Dearest?” Toudai slid his hand onto Koumyou's shoulder, and Koumyou shook his head.

“It's nothing, darling.”

Toudai hummed, clearly unconvinced, then wrapped his arms tight around Koumyou. “I suppose I owe you an immense debt of gratitude.” He pressed his cheek against Koumyou's over his shoulder, then kissed the curve where his jaw met his ear. “I'm glad I was worth fighting for.”

Koumyou relaxed into his embrace. “My love, despite it all, you were very much worth all of our struggles.” He didn't turn into Toudai's embrace but instead leaned back into his chest, and kept a weather eye to the window. “I can only hope that those who come after us are ready to fight the same uphill path towards happiness, no matter how great the obstacle may look from how low he stands.”

Fuck Koumyou. Fuck Koumyou for thinking he could help when he didn't understand the first damn thing about him. Fuck Sanzo for taking him home, fuck Sanzo for taking him drinking. Fuck.

Gojyo couldn't sort his head as he walked for the nearest intersection. He didn't know what time it was, the cloud cover obscuring the angle of the sun, he didn't know what to do about the ache in his head and gut, the ache that was his entire body. Every time he blinked, he was seeing birds flocking on his eyelids and blood pooling at the edges of his perception, and when he could catch his breath at the corner of the cross-streets, his lungs burned.

Cigarette, fuck, he needed a cigarette. That was why his hands were shaking, why they kept shaking as he found his lighter and the crushed box in his pockets. Even a messy cigarette was better than the goddamned withdrawal shakes. He took the first drag, exhaled, and felt some of the tension ease. It was habit, addiction, compulsion, and that little return to form was enough to shake a few things into place.

One, that it was fine, none of that mattered, he was still alive so this was fine, everything is fine.

Two, it was a weekday, and he probably should have been at work hours ago, because that was what he was supposed to do with himself. He looked to the street sign, discerning where he was, and steeled himself for a long walk across town to the garage.

The clouds continued to gather overhead, and Gojyo could already imagine the drum of rain on the skylights, he could feel it pounding into him. He could imagine the weight of the sky, heavier with every step, but it didn't matter, he still had something to do, he had a purpose, he had something. The garage was in sight, but he took the long way around the back so he wouldn't have to walk past the bakery window. He wasn't sure what he looked like, but whatever it was, there were a few people he wouldn't want to lay eyes on him right now.

He kicked the back door to the garage open, and Goku startled from the workbench as Gojyo strode in and past him without looking at him. Gojyo could feel Gat's eyes burning on his back as he dumped his jacket on the stool by the bench and strode for the coveralls hung in the breezeway. However, Gat moved into his path just as he got there. Gojyo turned up towards him with a glare, but he tried to soften it with what he hoped was a self-confident smirk. “Somethin' I can do for ya?”

“Leave.” Gat grounded himself, arms crossed, and Gojyo felt the rage bellows back into him, only barely keeping his cool:

“It's not my day off.”

“It needs to be.” Gat didn't budge, didn't even flinch at Gojyo's utterly feral mien. “I can smell alcohol on you--”

“Yeah, you'd know about that, wouldn'cha?” There was acid in it, bitter resentment, but Gat was unmoved and unmoving.

“You're still drunk or hung over. I can't let you near a customer's car.” Gat seemed to only get bigger as he inhaled, and Gojyo would have thrown himself at the wall of his chest like an ocean beating against a dam if he thought it'd have done any good.

“And who gave you the goddamn right to tell me what to do?”

Gat held up his keyring. “I'm a keyholder. De facto manager in your absence. You weren't here this morning, I stepped in. I am asking you to leave for your own sake.” Gat put his keys away, crossed his arms again, and seemed to draw himself up even taller, but spoke softer: “You look exhausted. Go rest. It's for your own good.”

Gojyo couldn't even growl a retort, too sore and sour for a comeback. Instead, he spat: “Guess I can't even make myself useful.” He clenched his fist tight, then bit his tongue and about-faced. He caught Goku flinch as he snatched his jacket up, but only turned when he cleared his throat.

“Your keys, boss.” Goku averred his gaze but pointed towards one of the pegs on the wall when Gojyo looked towards him. “Um, unless you're not sober enough to drive.”

Gojyo snatched his keys without saying a word to him. He knew he didn't have anything nice to say to the poor kid. He was sure there was nothing nice left in him at all.

Gojyo drove back home on muscle memory alone, blinded with the kind of fury that wouldn't subside. Cigarettes wouldn't quell his shaking hands this time, and he struggled to unlock the door to his flat, shoving the door open and slamming it shut behind him. The laundry strewn over his futon and coffee table slid off, the dishes in the sink rattled, and the throw pillow on his futon tumbled to the ground as he stormed past. His walls were exposed brick, covered with old posters and photographs he'd taken with Jien on the family trip they'd taken when Gojyo first got returned to him, but he tore them off the putty tacking them to the stone. He couldn't stand to look at his own smile. He kicked his ratty coffee table, toppling the magazines off of it. Why bother with any of it? Why did he keep anything? None of it mattered! “Fuck it,” he growled, shredding down a poster of a distant desert. “What the fuck is even the point?!” He threw his jacket off and pitched it at the wall as hard as he could, but something solid made impact, and rustled to the ground. Koumyou's book.

Gojyo stalked across the room to snatch it back up, flipping through the pages. Chicken Pot Pie. “For one.” Beef stir-fry. “For one.” Macaroni casserole. “Enough for two meals for one.” His breath hitched in his throat. “You fucking bastard, I'm just gonna be alone forever! Is that what you're telling me?!” He threw the book at the wall, but as the spine hit and the book fluttered to the ground, it hit him:

“I told him that.” And that realization, that those were what the words he'd said meant, that it was what he'd known all along, hit him like a punch to the gut. His knees fell out from under him, his voice watery and foreign to his own ears. “Because they leave. And I'm alone. I'm just always going to be alone.” His stomach turned again, and he lurched into the bathroom as the water he'd forced down rebelled back up. He barely made it to the sink.

He rinsed his face and nose, then went to check himself in the stained, grimy mirror above the faucet handles. He didn't know the face staring back at him. This person wasn't him, wasn't who he wanted to be, and he didn't even know who that person was.

It just wasn't this. It wasn't him.

Gojyo wound his fist back and put it through the mirror. The glass split through his knuckles, but he didn't care. Blood dripped red down his hand into the sink and onto the floor, but fuck that guy. Gojyo didn't want to look at him anymore. “I'm not gonna be him anymore,” he growled, then stalked back into the kitchen and grabbed the scissors from the drawer and back to the bathroom. He stared at the blades, his heart palpating through his shirt, breathing ragged as he braced himself. He could barely breathe, the world around him greying out like he was suffocating. He was suffocating. He was choking on his existence.

“Then this is my fucking truth!”

He wound his hair around one fist and chopped all of it off in two big snips. His head spun, the blood rushing away and draining out, and for a second, he thought he saw white light. Then, he dropped his hair in the trash and rinsed the blood off of his hand.

He managed to wrap his hand in gauze, barely flinching as he picked all the glass he could see out. His heartbeat was slowing down, and he could breathe just a little easier. This is my truth, he told himself as he taped the gauze in place, then found Koumyou's book on the ground and picked it up. “I'll learn to live with it, and I'll be okay.”

Just like before, he would repeat it until it was true.

[veryveryveryshyshyshy-blog]

Torment

Word count: 2.2k

Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, loads and loads of angsty shit

A/N: Be Mean by DNCE made me do this, though its didn't inspire the whole story lol but yes there will be something smutty in the later parts also wow @ the gif,,,,, also i feel like this is kind of a filler chapter lol also feel like i shouldn't have ended it there but idk i cant continue also this was kinda short iDk SORRY

A lot of people deserve forgiveness, a lot of people deserve to forget but all they receive are reminders after reminders after reminders of the mistakes they've committed. 

First, it was a scandalous relationship with a girl. The newspaper article headlines with his secret connection with this nobody, including the explicit (but not too explicit, of course) details of his sadistic and masochistic sexual requests. If that didn’t cause a whole bunch of ruckus, the next one did. Jeon Jungkook was sitting by his window ledge in his secret hiding place, a “temporal safe haven” as his manager puts it. His doe eyes glossy as the light from outside reflected. Though the ray did reveals his tears, his eyes still seemed dull as compared to before. Like a light, that had inhabit his vision before, had been torn away. It was drooping at the sides, so were the sides of his mouth. You could clearly see the toll that he had taken. Exposing his emotions, clearly plastered on his face, vulnerable as the sound of his empty house started to turn deafening. His pupils following the tiny amounts of snow that descended gracefully from the sky. His palm warm against the cold glass of the window, soon to transfer its heat, turning the heated hand into numbed flesh. 

The crestfallen boy knew he was going to have to face the public soon. He didn’t know what the fans thought, getting mixed responses as he read the tweets. He didn’t know what the conservative public of Korea thought of it, he didn’t know what his parents thought. He also didn't know what the members thought or what you thought. Jungkook was desperately avoiding thinking about the latter, especially. The thoughts would harass him till he's ruined. His ringtone chiming interrupted his thoughts. The ringing got more violent as all the notifications flooded in. “Jeon Jungkook Nude? BTS’ Golden Maknae Nude Video Leaked.” #Jungkooknudes trending on twitter.

Moving before his eyes on the screen was two familiar figures. Jungkook’s memory of that special night was slowly tortured and decaying further by every embarrassing moan that blasted out of the speaker of the device. Or by every spank that could be heard in the audio, resounding in the room. Both bodies were moving at the same pace, before his manager pulled the phone away from his face. Now, he was sitting in an office with eight pairs of eyes all on him. His manager had spoken. But the bunny-tooth boy paid no mind to the stressed man,it was probably something along the lines of, “Do you know how much trouble we’re in? If you dare pull some more shit like this. You know what’s coming, kid. Watch out, alright?”, the last part had a hint of sympathy and care, not being as harsh as his few previous sentence. His manager knew that this isn’t what Jungkook wanted, he was human too. He obviously didn’t leaked it himself. But, it did put his job and the rest of their jobs at risk of being taken away, he needed the younger boy to know that his actions have consequence and to be careful with what he does.

Jungkook just sat there silently, staring lifelessly at the table. Nobody could really disclose what he’s thinking about, not the boys as they sat in the room with him, not his manager, no one. They all just stared at him as he was to the table. The dispirited boy had his fringe covering a little of his vision as he stared into the matte black that covered the table, still trying his best to avoid the thoughts of you from popping up in his mind. Nobody had foreseen that the youngest of BTS would’ve been so, well to put it simply, problematic. Nobody thought he would’ve been so sexually promiscuous, everyone speculated that he was the innocent little boy that everyone assumed and portrayed him to be. Some made up rumours that he wanted to get rid of this image, thus causing all this commotion. Others said it was for publicity, quote “These celebrities will do anything to get their face onto the cover of a magazine, be it bad or good news. Absolutely pathetic.”

Amidst all the chaos, nobody asked Jungkook how he felt about this whole situation. Of course, he felt pretty damn shitty. After all his privacy was being pried into. That little minute dust of freedom he had, that he had the right to have, was blown away in a violent wind straight from his bare hands. No amount physical work could have snatched it back as it scatters all over the place. It was out there for the world to look at, the uncensored image of his naked body and the girl he loved on display for the whole world to see. His sultry words, that was supposedly only for his lover to hear, was now heard by millions. Jungkook also felt irritation amongst all his emotions. Why did he have to apologise when he never did anything wrong? What kind of goddamn social contract was it to apologise for his own leaked nudes? It was his privacy being violated here. The person who leaked the nudes and everyone who watched that god-fucking-damned video should be sending their apologies to him instead. Jungkook also felt a tiny sense of happiness lingering at the back of his mind, however he was confused by this emotion. He almost caused 8 other people to lose their jobs, a girl to lose her dignity and pride and not able to face the public. He allowed the familiar elderly couple to be tortured by the hushed whispers spouting more and more rumours about them and him, especially about their relation and how he was badly brought up and nurtured by the couple. He jeopardised a company’s reputation and his own. How could he have felt happy in a moment like this? 

Next thing Jungkook knew, he was, back in the house, lying in the silence and on the extremely huge and empty kingsized bed. The loose string of the smooth silk bedsheets caught in the crooked cut of his nails on his finger as he thought about some of the people he did owe an apology to. Jungkook knew he had to make some amends. He apologised to the members, all of them forgiving and accepting his apology quite easily. They understood what he did wasn't on purpose and that they all had their own things to hide. He apologised to his parents, his parents also being very forgiving. He was exceedingly thankful for all grace shown by his members, the company and his parents.

Now, it was time for the harder part. He walked through the dark cold street, step after step to the familiar address. His hands pushed into the pocket of his coat, in great need of warmth. The air conditioner in the house broke before this, he’s been living without heat for about 12 hours. He couldn’t escape the house either as he was suppose to be in hiding. Just his luck, he also forgot to wear gloves tonight.

He knocked against the wooden door, a crack in the door causing a splinter to prick the skin of his knuckle. He knocked again and waited. After 15 minutes, still not a single soul.

“Hey, I know you’re in there.” His voice sounded rough. As he hasn’t spoken much in the past few days, Jungkook was surprised by his own voice.

The door then opened with a creak, his large eyes engulfed into the small lifeless ones that stood before him. Despite being lifeless at first sight, he saw fear and sadness swimming around in them too.

“What do you want?” The soft, but hoarse voice ruptured in the quiet night. The air so chilled that her hot breath condensed in the contrasting temperature. Silence stood all around them for a moment before Jungkook sighed.

“I just wanted to apologise.” He said quietly, almost a whisper. Feeling guilty and for the first time, he felt small in front of the petite woman.

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it.” For someone so small, the girl spoke with so much hatred, Jungkook couldn't believe that much hostility could occupy one being. Booming, so sharp that it cut the silence straight into half. The boy was shocked, expecting an easy and smooth forgiveness. But, his naive mind never ran over the possibilities of what was going to happen. Alas, he was, now, confronted and the infamous feline has really grabbed his tongue, this time. Maybe, even tied it into a knot as it felt like he couldn't talk.

“I’m a girl. You’ll never understand what it's like for me. For you, it’s a bump in your life, its a mistake that’ll soon be forgotten by many. For me, however, I’ll live with it forever. Instead of people telling me that it was just a mistake, they blame me for this. My reputation forever tarnished by you. I’ll always just be known as the girl that had that sex scandal with that idol. People at my workplace talk about me, I’ve been forced to resign to protect the company’s reputation. People at the convenient store talk about me, I see the censored thumbnails of that stupid fucking video on the covers of magazines while walking in the goddamn supermarket. People are making violating comments about my body, right in front of me. All thanks to you, the whole world knows what I look like when I'm fucking you, completely naked.” Her voice once again, firm and loud enough for Jungkook to understand the emotions she was projecting, but not loud enough to wake the neighbours. Jisoo wouldn’t risk that, there was enough talk going around town. Jungkook, then, realised the double standards that was still alive. He’ll be able to move on and build his career again and soon, everyone would forget. But, a female body. The female anatomy wasn’t easily forgotten especially by people who sexualise it so much. Even, Jungkook could still remember what his first love looked like. But, not her face first, if you asked him in this way. He remembered the curves in her body and the way she moulded so perfectly with him. The sole reason why he remember her face was because well she's his first love.

“You said you’d always protect me. Why didn't you keep your promise?” She whispered, her voice broken. Though, she was quick to compose herself again, blinking the tears away. Refusing for the, though downhearted too, boy to see her so broken. She knew how it'd affect him, because through everything she still does love Jungkook.

“I know, Jisoo. B-but this is different, I-I couldn't-“ Jungkook stammered, not being able to say what he wanted properly. Shoving his tears to the back of his eye socket, clearing his throat so he could properly discuss this. 

“I think we should breakup. If that wasn't obvious enough.” Jisoo interrupted coldly. 

"No. Please." Jungkook whispered as he begged. The only words he could muster up. 

"Please never look for me again." She said almost reluctantly.

"Jisoo, we can talk it out. Please, just stay." Jungkook had a tear running down his face at this point. Jisoo wiped at the tear with a small smile, her's also threatening to fall.

"Goodbye Jungkook." With a kiss on the cheek, slowly Jungkook felt her hands slip away and she retracted back into the house. 

This love died too early, Jungkook did love her but the unhappy boy’s eyes weren’t as glossy as he thought it would be. He was hurt, he did feel the sour squeezing in his nose and the closing of his throat. Yet, it didn't hurt as bad as he expected. Above all, his mind, contrarily, hasn’t occupied by Jisoo at all. These few days, it had been set on avoiding thinking about you. Although, the boy was trying to circumvent, eschewing these thoughts seemed to make them worse. Avoidance wasn't going to make him feel any better, he had to come to grips with it.

Everyone advised him that it was a mistake to leave. But, Jungkook didn’t care. He’s been in their restraints for too long, as much as he liked being restrained. He didn’t like it this way. As the male sat in his gigantic kingsized bed, once again. He thought all was right in the world again, like the stars had aligned in the world, except that it's not. He felt he was missing something as his eyebrow scrunched together, then your image popped up in his mind. His eyes widened in realisation as his stared into the white ceiling. His raised eyelids start to falter as he thought about what to do. There was a shit load he had to do, he was muddled as to where to start. 

He had to find you. Jungkook stared at the map, the leather seat beneath him getting warm. As he drew on the map, the red ink smudging on the glossy paper, he narrowed down his options to you two's hometown first. His lean legs reached for the gas pedal, his ink stained hands found the steering wheel and sped down the roads. He went out to venture, close to a pilgrim, on a journey to search for you. Your name is his permanent safe word, you are is his permanent safe house.