#every so often i remember ‘let me drive my van into your heart’ exists and my brain goes YEOWZERS

[sparrowsoupp]

they are the working dead! and they lurch for minimum wage!

[crispy-chan]

burning sunflower | yang jeongin

↠ pairing: yang jeongin x gn!reader

↠ genre & warnings: fluff, hanahaki au (vomiting flower petals), lil bit of angst, strangers to friends to lovers, school au, soccer player!jeongin

↠ summary: your only friend Seungmin introduces you to Jeongin, the star of the school's soccer club and one of the most popular guys in the school. you two become friends quickly but you start to catch feelings...

↠ word count: 6.8k

↠ a/n: sooo, this was written for the @newskynet Valentine's day special event. Not sure if it's too late but it's Sunday evening where I live... if I slipped up with the gn! reader, please let me know. feel free to roast me for my lame header, I just decided to put the lectures on how to use GIMP to good use lmao

the prompts I used were: 21 “For me?”,  6. “No one’s ever given me something like this before.”  16. “Will you be my valentine?”

my masterlist

One.

You're not really sure when you started to like Jeongin. I mean, you two were friends, don't get me wrong but that was it. Friends.

That was all he would ever see you as, you thought bitterly. The label that many would love to have but you cursed yourself for it every day. You see, you were first introduced to the smiling boy by your good friend Seungmin who thought you should at least try to make friends other than him, claiming that he won't be with you forever.

***

“Oh come on Min, I thought we'd always be friends,” you whined as he dragged you to a small cafe after school where you would meet his friend.

“Stop acting so childish Y/N, you have to start talking to other people too, you know.”

“But whyyyy? I have you, right?” you giggled at his unamused expression, telling you that he had enough of your shit.

“Nope. You're going to make other friends and that's final. You wouldn't want to really turn into a hermit crab,” he said smugly.

Now it was your turn to look unimpressed. “You don't need to bring up my spirit animal, sheesh. What a low blow, even for someone like you, Min.”

“What was a low blow?” a boy around your age with a cheerful smile approached you giving you a questioning look. You just stood there nervously, staring at him for god knows how long until Seungmin finally broke the ice with a rather awkward cough and proceeded to introduce you guys.

“Y/N, this is Jeongin. Jeongin, this is Y/N,” he pointed at the two of you, swiftly introducing you to the other.

“Um,” you awkwardly extended your hand for a handshake, “hello, I'm Y/N, Seungmin's friend.”

He shook your hand with a firm grip before smiling from ear to ear, “I'm Jeongin, from the neighboring class.”

After you guys settled, you proceeded to order your drinks and snacks. The atmosphere was undeniably awkward, but Seungmin seemed adamant about reaching his goal.

“So look guys, I brought you both here because you both need more friends. You're both introverts who like to hide in their shells and I think you two have a lot in common, so I think this would be beneficial for both parties.”

“So you're basically trying to say that you don't want to hang out with us anymore?”

The innocence in his tone almost fooled you for a second, before you noticed the smug expression on his face and couldn't hold in the burst of laughter.

“Man, I like him already,” you sniggered after you caught your breath, patting a visibly annoyed Seungmin on the back.

“Who would have thought there is someone more savage than you in this school.”

The unimpressed deadpan he gave you made you fall into another fit of giggles, prompting Jeongin to chuckle too.

After the waitress came back with your beverages, you proceeded to distract yourself by making little paper balls and blowing them through your straw into the ceramic pot on the table. You got so distracted, that you spaced out and didn’t notice when Seungmin started waving his hand in front of your face.

“Y/N, Y/N! Are you even listening?”

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at being caught zoning out. No wonder you had no friends. Slowly lifting your head, you faced Seungmin, waiting for him to repeat what he just said.

“I asked if you wanted to come to watch him play on Saturday.”

“Watch who?” you asked confusedly.

“Jeongin, he's on our school's soccer team,” he deadpanned, annoyed at your lack of concentration.

“Umm, sure...I guess. I'm not much of a sports person but I have nothing to do on the weekend,” you mumbled, mentally checking for any possible plans or chores you could have. Well jokes on you, you had none.

Jeongin beamed at that, taking a sip from his beverage as he pulled out his phone. “I'm glad you can make it - Seungmin would come but he has an exam he has to prepare for,” he explained, “the match starts at five o'clock.”

“Wait, wait, what? There's an exam next week?” you screeched. You were almost positive that there weren't any but dread filled you at even the slightest possibility.

The boy let out a chuckle at your obvious panic, shaking his head. “No, the exam is in two weeks but you know how he is.”

You could feel a weight being lifted from your heart as you sighed in relief. “Thank god, I thought I missed something,” you giggled.

Jeongin smiled at the display. Maybe hanging out with you wouldn't be that bad, at least he'd have someone he knew watching the game other than Seungmin who wasn't exactly the most supportive when it came to sports, opting to rearrange his binder or do his homework instead of watching.

“Thanks, it means a lot to me. I'm always happy if there is someone cheering for me in the stands,” he winked, making your heart skip a beat.

Wait a minute.

Something wasn't right here.

After the two of you bid goodbye to Jeongin, you dragged Seungmin out of the cafe, the gears in your head spinning at maximum speed.

“Wait a second Seungmin, he's not that popular striker who scores most of our school's goals that all the girls swoon over, right? Please tell me I'm right,” you stammered, pulling on his sleeve.

“Relax Y/N, he's really nice-”

“So it's him?!”

“Yes,” he sighed, opening his mouth to say something, probably to convince you to not bail on his friend but you didn't even give him the chance.

“I can't believe it! Why didn't you tell me? You made me agree to accompany one of the most popular guys in our school! His fangirls will kill me,” you hissed. Although you never remembered his name, it was practically basic knowledge that anyone on the soccer team was insanely popular with a cult-like following of crazed fans who went after anyone near them.

“Calm down, ok,” he held you by the shoulders, “ you will be ok, alright? He's a really nice guy who could also use some friends. All the other guys on the team are seniors so it's hard for him to find someone he can talk to face to face,” he tried to explain.

“And don't worry,” he added with a smile, “you don't have to do anything, just come and watch the match and cheer him on a bit, alright?”

“Alright,” you groaned.

Two.

You should have never agreed to come to that soccer game. That ultimately became your downfall. If you had never agreed to this, maybe you wouldn't be like this today.

You sighed, rummaging through your closet and trying to figure out what the hell were you supposed to wear. I mean - what was it even. You had no clue what was going to happen, you only knew that he and his teammates would pick you up on their way to the match.

He texted you the day before that he and the boys would stop by your house at three-thirty to come and collect you. After ten minutes of just standing there, you finally decided on a casual outfit and ran to your door to put your sneakers on. As if on cue, you could hear a car honking right outside your door and your phone lit up with a new text message.

Jeongin [03:32]

We're here.

You slammed the door shut and made your way to the vehicle. You could see a boy you recognized but didn't remember his name, behind the wheel. Inside the van, there were a few other boys scattered around, including Jeongin who sat in the back alone.

“Hi Y/N, hop in,” he beamed, rolling down the window. You smiled back, opening the door and taking a seat next to him.

“So, are you excited?” the boy driving turned to look at you with a grin as he slowly backed the car, driving away from your house.

“Yeah, it's been a while since I watched our team play and from what I’ve heard, you guys are pretty good,” you smiled nervously under their gazes.

They all laughed at that, happy to hear they had a good reputation even amongst the students not involved in sports.

“I'm Chan, by the way, captain of our schools’ soccer club,” the boy behind the wheel stated. Oh, so that's why he seemed so familiar. Practically everyone knew him, and he knew everyone too. He'd often greet people who didn't think he knew they existed and was always extra kind which combined with his captain status led to his immense popularity.

“The grumpy one next to me is Minho,” he pointed to the currently sleeping figure in the passenger's seat.

“Hey! I’m not grumpy!”

Well. Looks like he wasn't asleep after all.

“I'm Jisung,” the cheerful boy in front of you chimed as he turned around and gave you a big smile.

“And I'm Hyunjin.”

“Um, well...I'm Y/N,” you winced at how awkward you sounded but luckily, they didn't seem to mind as they all giggled.

“We know,” came Minho's curt reply, “Jeongin wouldn't shut up about you.”

“Ouch,” Minho screeched as Jeonging threw his shoe at him.

The rest of the car ride went rather smoothly, other than the occasional bickering of the guys but you honestly didn't mind. It was kind of comforting to just let go of everything and laugh along. It surprised you how nice they were, you kind of imagined them as selfish pricks but that clearly wasn't the case.

At one point, Hyunjin and Jisung started arguing over which color uniform they should wear for the match. You watched with a hint of amusement, that was until they turned to you for help.

“But look, if we choose the red one, Chan will be able to live out his dream as Christiano Bangnaldo,” Jisung pleaded as Chan let out an embarrassed chuckle.

“Christiano Bangnaldo? Wow, I'm wheezing.”

“Exactly,” Hyunjin cut you guys off, “that's why we should choose the blue one, it goes better with my skin tone.”

“Oi, nobody cares about your damn skin tone, I want to see Christiano Bangnaldo,” Minho stated loudly, completely shutting up the younger two. Welp, seems like it was decided. What Minho wants, Minho gets.

After you finally arrived at the dimly lit school stadium, you made your way out of the car as Jeongin held the door open for you. Smiling, you thanked him for the kind gesture before finally looking around. And your socks were pretty much blown off.

Now you were wondering, why you never came here before. The field was slowly starting to fill with other students slash players but that didn't manage to hide the undeniable beauty of this place. The bleachers were surprisingly clean, unlike most high school stadiums. The dim lights cast a nice glow over the stadium, giving it a really homey feel. You looked around in awe, still surprised by the atmosphere of this place.

“Have you ever been here during the night?” a lean figure stood behind you, observing you and effectively cutting off your train of thought.

“Nope. This is the first time,” you breathed out.

“That's what I thought. It looks completely different when it's dark,” he chuckled, turning around to head to the locker rooms.

“So... I have to head back so we can all change. You can take a seat wherever you want, I'd recommend the first row,” he winked cheekily, accompanying the gesture with a throaty laugh.

You blushed at that, choosing to snuggle into your shirt, to hide your embarrassment. How could he be so cheesy so casually? He must have noticed your slight shiver as he slipped out of his varsity jacket.

Before you could even protest, he had already placed the jacket around your shoulders, patting your head. You opened your mouth to object but he cut you off, “it's ok Y/N, I’m not gonna need it anyways. And by the way...thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.”

You smiled, realizing that something that seemed so pointless, so small could mean so much to someone else. He seemed genuinely excited to have someone cheering for him, even if he had tens of fangirls doing just that. You huffed in the chilly wind, lifting your head up to gaze at him.

“No problem Jeongin, I'm happy I came.”

Something about how he smiled at you, stirred your insides, made your heart skip a beat. Your eyes trailed after him, lingering on his receding figure. You didn't look away until he stepped into the locker room, the door pretty much obstructing your gaze and snapping you out of this trance.

Looking around, you could sense that the stadium was slowly filling up. If you wanted to have a seat, you would have to be quick. You ran down to the first row seats but with a sigh realized that most of them were already taken. You were about to give up and run up to find a spot in the next row but a sharp tug on your sleeve stopped you.

Turning around, you spotted a boy, maybe a year or two older than you, looking at you with a curious face. You tried to pry out of his hold, tugging on your hand but he didn't let go. Right when you were about to scream, he finally spoke, “are you Jeongin's friend? We saved you a seat,” he motioned to the spot next to him.

“How the hell do you know that?” you asked, confusion evident.

“Well,” he chuckled, “the jacket…”

Oh. right. You were wearing Jeongin's varsity jacket. You almost forgot.

“So… are you and Jeongin-”

“No,” you cut him off before he could even finish the sentence, “I'm a friend of a friend who couldn't make it today so I came instead.”

“Oh, you see - I thought, Hyunjin said-” he suddenly stopped, not bothering to continue, instead opting to tug you down to sit next to him.

“Watch,” was all he said.

You sat there obediently, watching the game and occasionally cheering Jeongin on, whenever he passed the ball or attempted to score. He was really good, especially considering that he was the youngest on the team.

During the less intense parts of the game, you made small talk with the boy next to you. He introduced himself as Jinyoung. He was the captain of the lacrosse team and a good friend of Chan and Hyunjin. You found out that as a captain, he would attend almost all the other sports events that his friends partook in, claiming it to be common courtesy.

Both of you refocused your attention on the game. Your team seemed to be on the offensive again, Hyunjin passing the ball to Jisung, who maneuvered around one of the opposing team’s defenders before eventually passing to Minho.

Just when he was about to kick it, another leg appeared from the side, tripping him and making him fall flat on his face. He managed to at least stick out his hands so they would take the brunt of the fall but he struggled to get up on his feet.

Before the other boy could get away with the ball, the referee blew the whistle, signalizing a foul and stopping the game.

“What happened? Is he ok?” you asked, frantically scrambling up and leaning into the field from behind the barrier.

“Don't worry,” Jinyoung chuckled, “he'll be fine. They'll probably be getting a penalty kick. And I bet you a hundred bucks that Jeongin will be the one to take the shot.”

“Wait really? Is he that good?” you surprisedly inquired.

“Yeah, he's the best shot on the team.”

Now you were excited. You heard that he was good but never realized to what extent.

Jinyoung was right. You could see the coach huddled with the players in a circle, probably talking strategy or something before Chan patted Jeongin on the back. They all withdrew from the group circle leaving Jeongin to stand in front of the ball and the other team's goalkeeper to hunch down in preparation for the kick.

The referee blew the whistle, signalizing the resuming of the game. Jeongin took a few steps back before bursting into a run, kicking the ball into the upper left corner with utmost control.

You all stood up in anticipation, the kick seeming almost as if in slow motion, you could see the goalkeeper jump to his left, desperate to catch the ball before it landed in the net but his attempt was futile.

The kick he delivered was far too good to be caught, the expert technique and control visible to any onlooker. Paired with a huge roar of applause, you could all see the ball land in the goal with a thud.

Everyone erupted in cheers, including you and the atmosphere was great. You could see a few photographers who probably worked for the local sports columns, their cameras clicking like crazy, trying to capture the moment of glory of this young high schooler.

All of his teammates pulled Jeongin into a collective embrace, Chan slipping off his goalkeeper gloves before hoisting the boy on his shoulder.

In the heat of the moment, Jeongin looked through the spectators, trying to find the person that came to watch him. When he spotted you, cheering him on with a big grin, he couldn't help the fond smile from appearing. After he finally caught your gaze, he shot you a friendly wink, laughing at your flustered reaction.

“Wow, just friends you say,” Jinyoung teased, witnessing the whole exchange.

“Oh shut up! We met like a week ago.”

***

Fast forward to the end of the match. You guys won two to none, the second goal scored by Minho with the assistance of Jeongin and Hyunjin. Everyone was excited, the adrenalin and momentum of the game still hasn't passed. The smell of sweat and coke (coca-cola!) heavy in the air as you sat with the team on the benches and reminiscenced the game.

“Jeongin! That goal of yours was really great, you had so much control over the ball. All those hours of practice have paid off!”

Jeongin shyly hid his face, all the praise from his captain making him feel fuzzy from the inside.

“Yeah, everyone in the bleachers froze in anticipation when you kicked the ball,” you chimed in, feeling the need to join the praise bandwagon for the boy, “it was really cool.”

After that, Jeongin continued to receive pats on the back from fellow teammates, a few coaches, and random people that you didn't even know who came to congratulate him on his flawless playing today.

Overall, everyone had a great time. The stars were out and you all just wanted to soak up the atmosphere. So this is what having a social life during your teenage years meant? It made you wonder, how much were you missing out on. You wished time would just freeze, allowing you to live in this moment forever. You were gonna have to thank Seungmin for this later.

Jeongin, who was seated next to you must have noticed you zoning out. He placed his palm on your shoulder and asked, “are you ok Y/N? Do you want us to take you home?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. And only after the third time did you realize, that you still haven’t answered his question. You smiled before letting the reassuring words slip out of your mouth, “I'm fine. Great actually. Can't remember when was the last time I had so much fun.”

He sighed in relief, glad that you were having fun. From what he could tell (and from what Seungmin told him) you didn't have many friends nor did you hang out with people. The only person you considered a friend was Seungmin and he wasn't exactly a social butterfly himself, opting to study in most of his free time.

All of you ended up chatting until nine pm, completely forgetting about the time and simply enjoying yourselves. You checked your phone at nine-thirty, gasping in shock at the time.

“Everything ok?” Chan asked with concern.

“Um, yeah. Just didn’t realize it was so late. I should probably get going,” you muttered nervously, picking up all your belongings and shoving them into your bag.

“Oh right, it's quite late already. We'll give you a ride, right Chan?” Jeongin turned to his captain.

“Of course. Let's all get going. Chop chop. C'mon Hyunjin, you can tell them about your skincare routine next time,” he pulled the whining boy away from his third victim today.

You packed yourselves into the van, the seating arrangements only slightly different from on your way here. Hyunjin must have been still pissed at Chan for cutting his skincare speech short because he wouldn't shut up about it on the way to the parking lot. He kept going on and on about how moisturizing is important, even if you have oily skin. The captain dismissed his rant with a laugh and started the engine as the complaining boy sat down in the passenger seat.

At some point, Into the unknown came on shuffle and all the boys except Jeongin started singing. You burst out in laughter at their failed attempts at singing the high notes, seeing Jeongin hide his face in embarrassment.

“Guys! Come on, stop it,” he pleaded but the older boys only smirked in response and started singing even louder. By now, you were dying from laughing so hard, Jeongin having to pat your back aggressively so you won't choke on your own spit.

After they got bored of singing, you became their main talking point and they kept asking you borderline intrusive questions until Jeongin told them off, seeing how you turned slightly uneasy. Because of the typical Saturday evening traffic, you ended up falling asleep on the shoulder of a slightly pink Jeongin. He became super nervous once he realized you weren't awake and tried his best not to move and to hold you steady on every speed bump.

It took about fifteen more minutes for you guys to arrive in front of your place. Chan parked on the street and turned to say goodbye.

“Thanks for coming, Y/N. We're glad you came. Hope you had fun too,” he smiled, his dimples making an appearance.

“Jeongin especially,” Jisung whispered not-so-quietly and squeaked from the death glare Chan shot him.

You laughed softly, your cheeks bunching up as you waved them goodbye.

When you were laying in bed, your mind wandered off to today's events. As much as you didn't want to admit it, Seungmin was right. You really enjoyed yourself.

***

It was a sunny Monday morning when you were walking up the steps to your school entrance. You spent the rest of the weekend thinking about the Saturday game, not yet sure, how you felt about this newfound hobby. Maybe you should really spend more time with people. You also washed up Jeongin's varsity jacket that you forgot to return on Saturday evening.

You held the paper bag containing the washed piece of clothing in your right hand as you pushed the entrance door with your left. It felt all too easy, almost as if the door opened on its own. And you realized that no, you didn't grow stronger from that one arm toning workout you did yesterday as you saw a veiny hand press into the glass.

You turned to face that mystery person, only to sigh in relief as you were left face to face with Chan.

“Oh, hello,” you smiled, greeting him rather timidly. Because let's face it - you weren't exactly sure if they even considered you a friend. You were just some random girl that came to their soccer game.

Thankfully, he seemed to consider you a friend too as he gave you his dimpled smile, “hey Y/N, how was your weekend?”

“It was pretty good. I had lots of fun on Saturday and yesterday I just chilled,” you beamed.

“Same here,” he laughed, “we all pretty much passed out when we got home- oh shoot, the bell's off, I have to get to class. See you around.”

With a simple wave, he dashed out of your sight, turning around the corner to climb up the stairs to his classroom. You then remembered that you too had class and if you didn't wanna be late, you'd have to make a dash for it too.

***

It was during lunch break that you remembered that you had to return Jeongin his jacket. You nervously walked to his homeroom, anxious about what was going to happen. Will he think you're weird for coming to his class? Will he be embarrassed when you come up to him in front of all his friends? You sighed as you entered the classroom. It seemed like nobody noticed you at first, everyone was way too immersed with their own stuff. You could see that they all got along, the room booming with chatter and laughter.

Jeongin's table was near the window, a girl's chair turned to face him as they both engaged in a conversation. You awkwardly shuffled a few meters away, not wanting to interrupt. It was a truly wrecking moment, you even considered just turning around and disappearing without a trace but Jeongin noticed you and gave you a wide smile.

“Hey Y/N. What brings you here?”

You stood there for a few seconds before you finally remembered, what you came for. “Umm, hi. Just wanted to return this,” you handed him the bag, “I washed it and everything. Thanks for borrowing it.”

His eyes flashed in recognition after he peeked into the bag and he immediately returned the bag to your hand.

“It's fine,” he mumbled with slightly rosy cheeks (not that you noticed), “you can have it, I don't mind.”

You stared at him in shock, mouth slightly agape to which he awkwardly laughed. You were about to protest but the bell rang and Jeongin muttered that you should better get back to class.

You nodded in embarrassment, not even being able to look him in the eye as you hastily waved and ran out of the classroom.

You were mentally beating yourself up for that, you should have never come to his class, he must have been embarrassed that someone like you came to his class, everyone was probably used to him hanging around popular people like that girl he was talking to.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. You stuffed the paper bag with his jacket into your backpack, what were you even supposed to do with it - did he not hear that you washed it or something?

When you arrived home, you hung the jacket on one of the hooks near the door and headed to your room to get some homework done.

Three

It was a few months later that you and Jeongin officially became friends. During that time, the both of you hung out a lot more, courtesy of Seungmin and the rest of the soccer team who thought the two of you made great friends. It started out simple at first: getting coffee together, working on homework, and cursing that physics assignment you both had no clue how to finish.

Times like these made you realize how much of a fun person Jeongin was. There was never a dull moment around him yet despite his easygoing and fun nature, you noticed he preferred to keep to himself, only hanging out with his closest circle of friends. A category which you seemed to now fall under too.

Despite all your anxiousness about whether you were even “worthy” (as some would say) of being his friend, Jeongin always told you that he didn't care if you weren't labeled as popular by the rest of the student body.

“Y/N, we've had this conversation many times already. I really couldn't care less that you aren't a popular cheerleader and don't have Gucci bags,” he smiled, pushing a stray strand of hair that fell in front of your face, behind your ear.

“I know, I know. Sorry Jeongin, I know you aren't like that. I just get really anxious when those kids bury me with their gazes when I dare look at you.”

“Look, if anyone is bothering you, please tell me ok? I'll talk to them. I don't want you to suffer from being my friend,” he smiled, waving the waitress over to order for you guys.

“Don't worry, Jeongin. I promise I will,” you smiled, turning back to your physics workbook. The homework was on magnetic motors or something like that and you had no clue how to do it.

“Umm, do you know the answer to question three?” you asked, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Nope. I fell asleep during that class,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“Oh come on. You can't do that. You should pay attention.”

“Like you paid any,” he pointed, taking a sip of his lemonade.

“Excuse me!” you gasped, “I did pay attention. I just didn't understand any of it. That's different.”

“Hmm. It sure is.”

Four

You were leaning over the sink in your bathroom, blood and flower petals splattered all over as you tried your best to get it all out of your throat. The petals were bright yellow. Sunflower petals.

How ironic, you thought. Sunflowers represented adoration, longevity, and pure thoughts. Just like how you felt towards Jeongin. And how he'd never feel towards you.

You bit back a sob as you choked on even more of the soft petals. In a sense, you were quite lucky - had you been coughing up any other flower (especially roses), it would probably hurt way more. But that still didn't mean that it wasn't painful. Your breath heaved as you tried your best to take deep breaths, your constricted lungs filled with petals, not exactly helping.

You have been suffering from the hanahaki disease for a few weeks now. You always thought it was a myth from the internet, never once have you expected to run to the bathroom at three am to hurl petals into the sink. It started slowly at first. You'd only cough out some petals and drops of blood, but it got progressively worse.

You'd have days that you wouldn't be able to even get out of bed with the exhaustion you felt. All you wanted to do was sleep and forget about the cute boy with dimples. But no, you could never be angry at Jeongin. He was an absolute sweetheart who was nothing but kind to everybody. You couldn't exactly blame him for being around other people. That's right, you didn't know if they were dating but he seemed to hang around this girl called Lia a lot recently, the one he was talking to months prior. They seemed to be good friends too, apparently knowing each other for years now. You tried your best to suppress the jealousy that was rising in you, along with the petals.

You quickly turned back to the sink, just in time for it to catch the new batch of bloodied petals. Even thinking about her made your heart ache and you absolutely despised yourself for that. Lia was nothing but a sweet girl that always smiled at you in the hallway and occasionally made small talk with you.

***

A week later you were walking down the corridor, looking for the vending machine. It seems like they recently moved it from its original location, in front of the lab. You turned around the corner, your eyes bulging out of your skull at what you saw.

Jeongin and Lia were hunched near the lockers, whispering and giggling at something. He said something, making the girl shake her head in denial as he arched his brow. You couldn't watch anymore, quickly running back and abandoning your original plan of finding the vending machine and instead, running to the bathroom. You slammed the door shut, flinging yourself over the toilet as you vomited heaps of the yellow petals, this time mixed with some green leaves and stems. This was by far the worst case, you have never thrown up green before.

You wiped your dry lips, attempting to take deep breaths and calm your heart. It was horrible what seeing the two together did to you. You couldn't believe you lost control like that only a few meters away from him. What would happen if he saw you?

You had to suppress it. He could never find out.

***

It was a truly painful day. Tomorrow was Valentine's Day and you could see all the stores decorated with pinks and reds, hearts everywhere, and signs welcoming couples with tempting discounts.

Your stomach did flips as you walked the path to the school door. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. You contemplated calling sick the next day and not going to school at all, but you had an important paper to hand in and the professor was especially grumpy and wanted it on his desk on that particular day.

You trudged up the steps with a frown, when you heard your name being called.

“Hey, Y/N,” Chan called after you, running up the stairs to catch up.

“Oh hey, Chan,” you mumbled, mustering up your best fake smile but he still managed to see through it.

“Is everything ok?” he asked, obviously concerned.

“Yeah, just a little tired,” you dismissed, leaving him and running towards your locker.

Good job Y/N, you groaned, now you can't even hang out with your other friends.

You spent the rest of the day avoiding the whole group, trying your best to overpower the need to throw up petals. You didn't want to repeat the previous incident in school. Jeongin must have by now noticed how distant you were. He probably thought you hated him by how you kept avoiding him for the past month.

He probably wanted to ask you to come to his game tomorrow which you sure as hell weren't planning to attend. On top of the fact that you could literally shower the whole stands with petals, it was also going to be Valentine's day and there was no telling if the boy was going to ask Lia out or something like that.

And your heart wouldn't be able to handle that.

You ran home after your last period. Your stomach growled at the lack of lunch but you figured it was better than running into one of them.

You stomped into the bathroom, not even taking off your shoes as you threw up into the bin. There was more blood today. There was no telling of what would happen tomorrow, the romantic atmosphere would probably only serve as a bitter reminder of your broken heart.

You wiped your lips, deciding that taking a shower would be in your best interest. After that, you sat by your desk and made some finishing touches to the essay due tomorrow.

Maybe you would just come to turn it in and then dip…

***

You woke up with a strangled cry, the dream you had still playing in your head. With a groan you slumped out of bed, ready to prepare for the day but to your horror, you realized that you overslept. You had approximately ten minutes before you had to leave.  You brushed your teeth, shoved some toast down your throat, and gathered your things. With a sense of urgency, you threw on jeans, a blouse, and some sneakers, not feeling like dressing up.

You had to leave immediately. Like now. You grabbed your backpack, quickly checking the essay was there, took your keys off the hook, and grabbed the first jacked you could find. It was dark blue (and very soft) meaning it would match almost anything you had on and since the weather was chilly, you wouldn't want to risk catching a cold.

Running out the door, you pulled it on and slung the backpack on your shoulder, running to the bus stop. Only then did you notice the engraved initials YJ on the sleeve and cursed yourself for bringing the wrong one. You would have taken it off right away if it wasn't for the blasting AC.

You stomped up the chairs, annoyance coursing through your veins. This day couldn't get any worse. Still thinking about leaving after handing in the assignment, you almost avoided going to your locker but remembered the jacket. You'd just drop it in and head to the professor's office.

You dug around for your keys until you finally found them in the bottom of your backpack. You slid it in the keyhole and opened the locker.

You were surprised by a giant teddy plushie and a box of chocolates. Your eyes widened in surprise before you heard a loud “surprise”.

Turning around, you were face to face with a grinning Jeongin. He stood over you with a large bouquet of beautiful sunflowers and the rest of the team, Lia, and Seungmin were all behind him cheering and throwing confetti.

To say that you were in shock would be a massive understatement. The look of utter confusion must have been plastered on your face as Jeongin smiled and handed you the bouquet.

“For me?”

He nodded slowly, examining your expression. You took the flowers from him, lowering your head to smell them.

“No one's ever given me something like this before,” you croaked, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

Jeongin nervously stood there before grabbing your hand and looking you in the eyes.

“Y/N, we've been friends for some time now but I wanted to ask you… Will you be my valentine?”

“Of course I will,” you whispered, almost jumping at him and swallowing him in a bone-crushing hug.

“I've liked you for some time now,” you admitted after a while, burying your head into his chest and enjoying the sudden way you seemed to breathe easier, not feeling the itchy petals in your throat anymore.

“Same here,” he laughed.

“Wait really? Since when?” you asked perplexed.

“Since I gave you my jacket,” he grinned, “I'm glad to see that you're making proper use of it.”

“Come on everybody, let's leave them alone,” Chan hollered, dragging everybody away to give you guys some privacy.

“I'm sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you for the past week. I was planning with Lia on how to do, how to do all of this, you know,” he pointed at all the gifts he got you.

“Thank you,” you smiled again, “I really appreciate it Jeongin.”

“Do you want to come to the game today? I'd introduce you to all my other friends.”

“I'd love to.”

He seemed to be thinking about something, his nose scrunching up before he looked at you and placed his hands on your waist.

You peered at him through your lashes as he slowly leaned down, pressing his plush lips to yours and sealing them into a kiss. You closed your eyes, leaning down to get even closer to him as you gripped his shirt for support. The kiss was short but sweet and you were startled apart by a loud wolf whistle.

You turned around, cheeks burning in embarrassment at Jisung doing kissy faces and Hyunjin laughing in the background. You almost jumped away and Jeongin just chuckled.

“The game starts two hours after school. Do you want to go on like a proper date before that?”

“Sure,” you smiled, “I should probably get going, I have to submit this essay,” you waved the piece of paper that counted for nearly half of your final grade for the quarter.

“Don't forget the flowers,” he pointed to the bouquet.

“About that, maybe I should leave it in my locker. You know - to not start anything,”

“Y/N,” he said with a serious tone, “I don't care what the others think. They'll know by the evening anyways.”

You were startled at first, but then realized that he was right. No more caring about what others thought about you.

Now it was just you and Jeongin. You liked the sound of that.

“Okay,” you smiled, picking up the flowers, “I'll meet you at two in front of the lockers.”

With a smile, you walked in the direction of your classroom. After weeks of pain and sorrow, you finally felt like everything fell into place.

***

a/n: aaaaaaah. idk why all my oneshots so far are for jeongin but nvm. hope you liked it. it couldn't resist the idea of soccer player jeongin ;)

[ageofevermore]

Unsaid Emily

SUMMARY — and maybe it was the midnight ink on her wrist that tied her to him

WORD COUNT — 1.7k

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ﾟ: *. ☽ .* : ☆ﾟ. ─────

They had said goodbye to a child eight years before welcoming the second with shocked and scared hearts. They had promised to do things differently -- to like whatever she liked, watch whatever she watched, and love whatever she loved. They drew no boundary at personal belief when it came to this second child that shadowed the life of Luke, but they made no attempts to forgive and mend the empty spaces in their hearts where they had already done this. They had already gone through first steps, words, and heartbreaks. They had captured Luke’s seventeen years of life in their memory so perfectly watching hers felt faulty. They tried with everything they had to love her as they never loved Luke, but somehow that caused even more of a divide as everything was reminiscent of the deceased first born brunette. 

She had been away at school when his birthday rolled around; for the first time in her seventeen years of pitiful existence she didn’t blow out the candles on a stale chocolate cake. She spent the day away from stories of her brother, and instead  spent it knowing somewhere in the universe he wasn’t being smothered by Mitch and Emily’s persistent opinions. She couldn’t outrun home forever though. An amazing music program in Santa Monica pulled her away from LA for most weeks out of the year, but her mother was persistent that she abandon the dorms and visit home every so often. It was that fear of Luke again. He had instilled so many traumas that even trust with her was unruly and weak. 

She heard the doorbell ring as she was unpacking her pile of homework, the weekend away from school meaning nothing for the multiple classes she was taking weekly. Though the private boarding school was diverse in the makeup of their structured courses, she was still on a tightly wound schedule with instrumental practice and vocals along with mandatory academics like calculus. She hates calculus. She had only started around the corner because she heard the sound of her brother's name roll off of a stranger's tongue. The defined L sound was unmistakable, and partnered with the topic of music, the correlation was undeniable. 

“Yeah. That’s Luke, when he was two.” Mitch explained the picture between the girls grasp, eyes growing damp at the topic of his greatest failure as a parent. Luke was his perfect gift. 

“Do you have any other children?” The girl asked, gently setting the picture frame down and bringing her chocolate eyes up to Mitch’s. The gentleness of her expressions were weighing heavy on the hearts of a family that lived with the memory of Luke on their mind daily. Even with the retelling of his story the only fragment of his existence that she knew, hearing these words hurt.

“A daughter. Lily.” Mitch looked just behind the guest, eyes trailing over his daughter that shared the same midnight toned hair and hard blue eyes as his Luke once had. She stepped past the threshold connecting the foyer to the living room, ignoring the butterflies that spread through her stomach at a certain point across the hardwood. 

“I’m Lily.” She smiled tightly at the girl, hand extended in a polite greeting that was in no way authentic. Her heart was beating her ears, palms collecting sweat at the idea of knowing Luke from somebody else's perspective. 

“Julie.”  The two smiled at each other, both looking equally displaced despite this being Lily’s house, and having been Julie’s personal decision to come. Luke just had that effect on people. His memory made you hurt so deeply that anything other than crying felt wrong. 

“Did I hear the doorbell?” Emily asked, hand softly brushing against Lily’s back. Emily hadn’t even flinched when her child pulled away from the embrace, just accepted what had become routine since implementing the memory and the love of Luke. In remembering one child Mitch and Emily had completely pushed away the other. 

“Mom, this is Julie.” Lily introduced the two, her eyes wandering around the space that suddenly felt so full. She had stood in this same living room for seventeen years prior to the current evening and never had she got the sense of being complete. 

“Hello, Julie.” Emily smiled, looking over the girl standing in their living room with nothing more than a name to her purpose. “Oh, that’s a beautiful sweater.” 

She had never heard her mother speak so freely kindly towards others' clothing. She had woken the same morning, expecting the looks of judgement and unwarranted warnings that band-tees and vans had been the very wardrobe to have taken Luke’s life. 

When she had gotten Sunset Curve tattooed to the flesh of her wrist, binding her life to her brother's memory, they had gone mental. It had been tears of disappointment and pain at the foundation of an argument. They had come around eventually, but only off of the premise that they didn’t want to drive Lily away and watch her face death like Luke did. 

“Thanks. It’s my moms.” Julie looked down at her sweater, fingers softly brushing along the knitted material. By the solemn expression in her eyes, Lily knew that death had been upon her. Nobody bore such a heavy gleam without the persuading of trauma and grief. 

“Julie lives in the house where Luke and the band rehearsed. She was just telling me she found a song that Luke wrote.” Mitch looked down at Julie, all while Lily couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on her. Looking around the room again, her heart jumped painfully in her chest at the orb of afterlife reflecting from the sun just behind Julie. As she stared into the rainbow colors of the orb, she couldn’t help but feel as though a set of eyes was sharing the encounter with her. 

Blinking away the delusion, Lily’s thumb traced the tattoo on her wrist, her eyes welling with tears. She might have rivaled a ghost all of her childhood, but she missed the soft and tender memories of her brother she didn’t have the heart to relearn. She could love him with everything she had, but never would see ask her parents about his short lived life. 

“It’s a song about a girl named Emily?” 

A tear fell from Lily’s eyes, while warm pools of grief framed the waterline of her blue optics, threatening to spill over at any second. She traced the spot where the orb of afterlife had once floated above the air with streaks of rainbow, but the sun had moved away and stopped casting a spotlight on the space. 

“Emily…” Mitch whispered into the open air of the space, eyes glazing over as he looked down to his wife that had beared two children and loved the first more than anything worldly. “I’m Emily.” She pleaded, although neither she nor Julie knew what she was asking for with her desperation soaked tone. 

“Then I think your son may have written a song for you.” Julie handed over the old and tattered piece of notebook paper that bore the same handwriting as all of Luke’s journals still stashed away in the attic. The same handwriting that lived permanently on her wrist, taking the shape of what his dream had once been. 

“First things first, we start the scene in reverse.” Lily had to shake the thought of music out of her focus, her body so heavily convinced that somewhere in the depths of her home a song was playing softly. The dimension of the vocals she heard was unlike any streaming platform ability, making her wonder if her mother had broken into the vinyls again. 

“All of the lines rehearsed disappeared from my mind when things got loud. One of us running out, I should've turned around, but I had too much pride. No time for goodbyes, didn't get to apologize, pieces of a clock that lies broken. If I could take us back, if I could just do that and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. Silent days, mysteries and mistakes. Who'd be the first to break? I guess we're alike that way. He said, she said, conversations in my head, and that's just where they're gonna stay forever.” 

It was a ringing between her ears that brought the delusion to a standstill. As her fingers curl around her wrist as if to physically grab the midnight ink, the whisper of a voice in her focus becomes too prominent to ignore. 

“If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace, then maybe time would not erase me. If you could only know I never let you go.” She hears the words through herself so clearly, she’s certain the words she can practically feel are the same as what’s written on the page between her mother's fingertips. She doesn’t understand it, but somehow she knows. 

It’s him. Luke. Her big brother. 

Her wrist flashes hot for a second, startling her enough to abandon the tight locked gaze she has on the empty space behind Julie and look down at her reddening skin. “And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily.” 

A cold shock ran through her body in contrast to the searing hot pain circulating her wrist. She sniffled when the last sung Emily sounded through her body, the vibrato sounding so close to her it was paralyzing. When she found her bearings and the jelly like feeling in her legs dispersed to her heart, she looked back up at Julie.  

With one last fleeting glance towards the empty space behind Julie, the sight of a blue-eyed boy looking tearfully beyond herself, calmed the burn in her wrist. She made eye contact with the boy, a name fitting comfortably on her tongue despite the impossibility of it all. 

“Luke…” 

[ajbwasntwriting]

Daughter!Reader x Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 3. Shorts Fired

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This chapter originally contained Daryl...Then I remembered that conflicted with Canon and changed it, but he’ll appear soon. Additionally, I got a request to start a tag list so if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me

Also in the event that the link’s don’t work I’ve started adding a hashtag to this series: AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires. 

“This is what we found sir,” Simon said, his team depositing a bag, a bow, a quiver of arrows, and a knife with your name engraved on the side. Negan picked up the knife, eyeing at the dry blood on the blade.

“She put up a fight” he commented, a smirk on his face. “That’s my girl.” He looked back at Simon from his seat in the meeting room. “We’ll find her” Simon’s men looked at each other nervously. Simon found his mouth dry and had to clear his throat to keep talking.

“Sir...We found her...she”

“Then where the hell is she?” your father asked, interrupting Simon as you would interrupt him. The room went incredibly quiet.

“She turned, sir.” Simon spoke. Negan froze for a moment before falling back into his chair. “We...captured her... if you’d like to see.” Wordlessly Negan rose from his seat and rushed towards the exit, specifically to the van Simon had been out in.

The shutter raised and low and behold, there stood a walker. Her face had been devoured but she was wearing your clothes, right down to the military boots you never took off, despite how many nice clothes and shoes he’d find for you. ‘Just encase’ you said.

Looking at the walker growl and reach for him, Negan felt numb. He now realised he hadn’t dropped your knife. “Gimme a minute” he ordered, climbing into the van and closing the door behind him.

Now it was just Negan and the walker, he began to tear up. “I’m sorry y/n.” he whispered before reaching behind and destroying her brain. It fell and he cradled her in his arms as he wept. “I’m so sorry. I tried to keep you safe, princess.” he rocked back and forth gently, stroking it’s hair as he mumbled to himself “I’m so sorry”

The night of your escape you broke into a thrift store to get some new clothes, though it’d hardly count as breaking in as whoever owned it was probably dead. You found some old khakis, a tie-dye shirt, and a black sweatshirt that had seen better days. It wasn’t much but it was warm. If only they had socks. You pulled on a pair of trainers and ran, wanting as much distance between you and Sanctuary as possible before your old man got back.

From there it wasn’t easy. Food was gone, ammunition didn’t exist, and the closest thing you had to a bed was a car with the doors closed. Anyone else would crack under these circumstances, but not you. You had experienced stuff arguably worse than this. You were a trained soldier with experience on foreign battlefields, so a few undead going bump in the night wouldn’t stop you from sleeping. What did keep you awake was the memories.

“You shouldn’t take those with booze, ma” you interjected, your mother just gave you a filthy look from over the edge of her bourbon glass. “I am the mother, you are the child. Remember your place.” was the usual reply, and that was the reply you preferred. It meant she’d spend the night cursing you out, picking apart your flaws, and blaming you for your old man’s fooling around. The words were easier to deal with than dodging a flying glass.

You were 15 when your mother got diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and your world went from sunshine and rainbows to cleaning up after your mother passed out so she wouldn’t be embarrassed in the morning and letting your dad in at 4 in the morning so the neighbours didn’t see him. In the morning your mother would make you pancakes to say sorry, even though any movement would hurt her. Your father would slip you twenty bucks for ‘being a team sport’.

You had accepted that your mother just didn’t have the nerve to confront your father on all his cheating because she was worried she’d leave him, and your father was an idiot that was more bothered by the parents at the school he teaches at finding out that he screwed around then what he was doing to your family. You accepted it. You understood it. That didn’t mean you forgave them. It also didn’t mean you wouldn’t call them every chance, that you wouldn’t send a hundred letters to them every year, that you wouldn’t kiss their cheeks while declaring ‘I love you’ to all that heard.

Every morning you woke at what you believed to be 6 am. It had been hardwired into you from your service. You’d start walking in the same direction, trying to get as far from Sanctuary as possible, though your speed was slow and you often stopped at towns or houses to scavenge. Now and then you’d stumble into houses that had gardens or farms that had been overrun. Usually, there were more walkers than food but you had secured a rather sharp knife to replace the arrow you’d been using to bring down walkers quietly. You also carried your things in a child’s school bag, being the most together bag you could find at the thrift shop. The bright pink glitter didn’t go with your desire to stay low but sacrifices had to be made, such as hygiene.

Your form was weak from a strong lack of food, your feet were raw from the constant walking, you were constantly exhausted. Taking down walkers with the kitchen knife had become muscle memory. Hand on chest, knife in head, hand on chest, knife in head, and so on. You felt more dead than alive when a gunshot fired somewhere behind you. You swirled around to see a clearly a few steps right of you and a walker being downed. You put the math together and knelt into the foileage. “Sasha what are you doing?” you heard a lady call from far off. A moment later you noticed your sleeve feeling more and more damp. A quick glance confirmed blood, making you curse under your breath.

The gun shot attracted more of the biters out of the forest and into the clearing to see this Sasha character, but three were more interested in the smell of your blood. You cursed again, jumping back and taking steps away from the clearly. You reached for your gun on instinct before realising it would probably attract the people, and you didn’t want that. To make matters worse your shot arm was your stabbing arm. Flexing the arm caused the blood to start pouring so you took the kitchen knife in your other hand, the walkers approaching you. Having little time to react you kicked one back, sending it into a bush while another lunged at you. You narrowly sunk the knife into its skull, though the combination of it falling on you and your lack of good footing sent you backward, banging your head off a tree. Your head began ringing when the third reached for you over the lunger, giving you enough space to swing your arm and shove it through it’s temple.

You turned to get the two corpses off you, settling into a squat against the tree as the first offending walker got to its feet. You flipped the knife in your hand as it wandered towards you, using the tree to stand up quickly and stabbing up through its neck. The last one fell and you heard more shuffling through the woods. “I’m coming with you”. Crap it was those people. You ducked behind your support tree, the sudden exertion making your arm bleed. You clasped a hand over it as you bit your lip, watching from behind the tree. Three women walked by, two following another with a large rifle. ‘Are they from an outpost?’ you thought. You waited a while for them to pass with short breath, not wanting to risk them looking for you.

When you were sure you were in the clear you ran, making note not to run in the direction they came from or were heading. You ran and ran until you found a gas station. There were a couple of walkers in there but you needed something to dress your wound. You took a step back and shot through the glass at the first, getting the second with your knife when it stumbled through the shattered window.

Walking in you noticed it was a treasure trove. Most of the shelves still had their goods and the first aid pack was still there. Taking off your shirt you were relieved to find the bullet had only grazed you and the bleeding was slowing. Still, you cleaned and dressed the wound, popping a lollipop in your mouth for good measure.

You only got a few bottles of water and some stale chips in your bag when a car pulled up. You dove behind the counter without thinking, pulling the walker you shot over your body. Cracking glass signaling they had walked in.

“I thought this place was locked up” a man’s voice spoke out.

“It was” another man’s voice replied.  “Whoever broke in didn’t clear it. Come on”. You heard shuffling, then felt someone kick your leg.

“Anything behind there?” the woman called.

“Nah, just a couple of dead ones.” you tried to maintain your stillness when what you assumed was one of the men, stepped on the back of the walker, and pushed the air out of you. It took everything to maintain your quiet when he reached for your bag, cutting it off your shoulder. You stole a look to see a man with long messy hair, a button-up opened over a t-shirt, and a sheriff’s hat rustling through your stuff.

“This one had a first aid pack,” he called, pulling everything from your bag into his own. You made a mental note to kill this man the next time you saw him.

You lay as still and as silent as you could until you heard the car drive off again. You pushed the dead off you and dived for your bag, looking through it just to confirm what you already knew. He took everything. Your bullets, your food, everything. You threw the bag across the floor cursing. You sat on the ground, your head in your hands. You stared at nothing until an old map caught you. You slowly pulled it out of the hole it had been shoved in between the counter and the register and unraveled it, wanting something to look at other than your distinct lack of supplies. The map must’ve been used by the previous manager, because your current location was clearly marked and the DC city limits weren’t that far out. Your eyes lit up

‘The only place left with stuff would be the city. They had a refugee centre.’ you thought. You sat there a moment longer, soaking in your helplessness. Standing up from behind the counter you realised how badly they’d empty the place. The shelves didn’t even have the dust on them anymore. You took off your shirt, using it to pick up a piece of shattered glass, then walked over to one of the walkers to start carving it open. If you were to brave DC without weapons you’d need a disguise.

After soaking yourself in undead guts you repurposed the walker’s shirt to hold your make-shift blade. The walk into the city was short once you cut through the woods. As expected the road was lined with cars and walkers, non paying you any attention. You walked into an abandoned RV to check your wound, making sure no infection had seeped in. Once you opened the door some walkers lunged at you, making you step in quicker. Immediately your nose filled with a vile stench, causing you to vomit into the entryway. In your new position, bending over with your hands on the floor sitting in your vomit, you could see the cause of the smell from the corner of your eye.

You walked over slowly to the back of the rv in case they turned, but also to clarify the image as the bodies had been decaying for so long. The blood spatter confirmed a gunshot. It looked like a woman in a summer dress and two young children. Pinned to a board above the bed were some pictures. Smiling children, older people with drinks in hand, and a happy family on the beach; A mother, a father, and two children barely out of their toddler years. You looked up and down the alley, no sight of a fourth family member.

“Coward ran” you mumbled to yourself. The covers lay at the bottom of the bed. You grabbed them and pulled them over the family.

A little bit of scavenging brought you a new ruck-sack in a dirty green colour, two bottles of water, some painkillers, and a pair of socks. You celebrated silently before you put them on, already feeling the old trainers rub your feet raw. As you closed the presses something in the bathroom cubby began to move. Clawing at the door but not sure how to get out. If he couldn’t get out then only one thing came to mind.

“Guess you weren’t a coward.”

You opened the door, the walker falling out and quickly meeting your glass, it breaking off in his head. You picked him up and laid him down with the family, noticing he was wearing the same shirt as in the picture above the bed. You felt jealous of the family, but you pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time. As luck would have it the walker was keeping a hunting rifle with a low power scope in his cubicle, along with five bullets. You picked it up, looking it over. You hadn’t used one of these before the world went to shit but what time better than the end of the world to get a refresher lesson.

Getting into the city was relatively easy, finding your way through the crowd, down an alley, on top of a garbage can, and in through an old apartment window into a complex with only a couple of the dead following you. They groaned and reached into the higher window, but you were safe in someone else’s sitting room. You jumped up when another walker strutted in from another apartment room. All you had were two guns and firing either one of them would drag too much attention.

You looked around for anything to use but it was on you before you could act, pushing you back towards the window. Pinned to the breaking frame by the undead and more of them reaching for you from the back you pushed against it with all your strength, its jaw snapping at you. You took in a deep breath and pushed back with all you had, sending it to the ground running to the other side of the common space. It rose confidently from behind the couch looking around there was a tv to your left and a dead potted plant to your right.

It walked around and lunged at you just as you got the potted plant off the floor, swinging it around and knocking it to the ground. Before it could get up again you dropped the plant on its head, followed shortly by the tv for good measure. You leaned against the wall, causing it to crumble and collapse, sending you back into a child’s bedroom. You coughed as the dust fell on you, pulling yourself into a sitting position. Looking into the sitting room you now noticed it featured a kitchen area, complete with a full block of knives staring right back at you.

You gathered up the knives and went up a floor, wanting some distance between the dead and yourself. It seemed the complex had been cleared, but that made sense since it was the city. You found an apartment with a street view and made your camp, pulling an old mattress from the bedroom into the common room to keep watch. You opened a window to clear a little of the dust from the room. You’d sleep here tonight then move more in the city later. You found some books in the apartment. ‘Jane Eyre’, ‘Little Women’, ‘Get Slime in 40 days’. It painted the image of some sad spinster trying to better herself to get back at the world. ‘The Woman’s Guide to Single Life’ added a frame to that image.

“Come on!” you heard a man yell, followed by a gunshot. You fell to the ground instantly, crouched over, and crawled to the window. Peering out there was a sight to behold. It was the same hat-sporting man, no a boy, and an older man with a beard with a herd on their heels. They’d be at your window. You loaded a bullet in the chamber of your hunting rifle, using the scope you had it on the older man’s head in moments since he had a larger bag on his back. All you had to do was squeeze the trigger and he’d be down, dropping his stuff and maybe the other would be eaten and you could take your stuff too. All you had to do was squeeze that trigger.

“Dad!” The boy screamed out when a dead grabbed his bag, your scope moved in a moment and the walker was downed. They looked around wildly while running. You made a rash decision and stuck your head out the window and yelled to them as you reloaded the gun.

“Hey you two, round the corner there’s a busted window! Get to it!”. They seemed to understand and began sprinting. You took down one behind the man that had gotten too close, then another. You heard a thump downstairs just as you ran out of ammo.

You walked out of your apartment just as they came up the stairs, you pointed the gun at them in defense. “Stay right there”

The two stood with their hands up. They glanced at each other and then you. The older man began to speak. “Thank you for-”

“If you wanna thank me, give me back my shit” you cut him short.

“We didn’t take anything from you.” the boy in the hat replied.

“Three bottles of water, two packets of chips, and the first aid kit.” you retorted, noticing the shock in the man's eyes. You motioned the gun to the boy “You cut the bag off my arm back at the gas station. The pink glitter thing.”

The man swallowed hard “We can’t. That stuff. We have people that need it-”

“I could have fucking killed you. Is that not worth shit?” The silence that followed made it all worse.

“Listen, I’m Rick Grimes, This is my son, Carl” He motioned to the boy behind him “We come from a place. A safe place with walls. If you let us keep your stuff you can come back with us. We can give you a safe place to live.” The rest of his words turned into white noise after you heard his name.

“Alexandria?” You questioned, a sad smile coming to your face. “You’re not gathering stuff for your own people, are you?” you lowered your gun a little.

“You know these people?” the boy asked, getting angry. You nodded solemnly.

“Look, I’m not going back with you, but I’ll offer you a deal. Give me the first aid kit and I’ll give you this gun” you said, holding up the rifle to further your point.

“We need it,” Carl argued.

“So do I.” You rose your short sleeve to show the bandage. “Some asshole nearly shot out there.” Carl reached into the older man’s bag, Rick immediately telling him not to.

“She saved us,” he argued, pulling out the red plastic pack.

“One good turn deserves another,” he stood up and went to hand it to you before you raised the rifle again, shaking your head no. You motioned to the ground, where he put it down. You once again motioned to the ground and he kicked it over. You knelt down, placed down the rifle, and snatched up the kit before diving back into your room, slamming the door shut.

You rushed over to your bag, grabbing it and shoving the kit in. “This is empty!” you heard Rick yell as you dove out the window onto the fire escape and descending back to the streets.

Tag list

@softsebastian​

[stardustskz]

It Just Is

pairings: seungmin x reader

word count: 4.8k

warnings: mentions of anxiety, language, description loaded (i think?)

genre: fluff (?), angst

description: Han Jisung begged you to drive him to somewhere and you didn’t expect to see familiar faces that caused some of your ‘forbidden’ memories to resurface.

note: i don’t really know what this is but, it’ll be a waste to let it sit in my drafts forever. also, this may or may not have a second part

There are missing items in your life that you have longed to look for. The ocean blue cardigan that you used to wear frequently during seventh grade, which you don’t quite remember if you have misplaced it around the house or your mom already donated it somewhere else. That one decorative pen that you loved to use for your writings whether you take notes during class or cram your Petrarchan sonnet that is due the next day. The Minnie mouse keyring that your grade school best friend gave you as a present when their family visited Singapore that you valued a lot until one day it wasn’t hanging by the zipper of your backpack anymore. These things that you lost in a fraction of time without even knowing that they’ll be gone from your sight for the entirety of your life, they once became your comfort. The warmth of your cardigan whenever you’re cold from the harsh morning breeze on your way to your school. The grasp of that certain pen when you scribble your notes in a hurry before the teacher moves to the next slide of her presentation. The familiarity of seeing that pink dotted ribbon hanging on your backpack, indicating that it’s yours. They all have been a fabric of your being, a part of you. Well, that is until you lose them.

You scanned through the piles of paper on your desk, trying to find your sharpener to finally finish the title block of your plate. You mumbled a few series of curses as you glanced at the clock. It was already 9:51 in the evening and this plate that you’re currently doing is due at midnight. Screw your stupid alarm clock for not waking you up when you swore that you have set it at 1:00pm. You hurriedly sharpened your pencil a second after you found it underneath your history book as you heard an obnoxious knock from the door. You chose to ignore it and moments after, you hear it open following your brother’s annoying voice,

“Y/n!! Your plate looks wonderful!” 

“What do you want, Jisung?” you groaned in annoyance as you already know that certain tone of his.

“Help me get to Hyunjin’s tonight” Jisung answered which made you turn around from your drafting to face him.

“It’s the third party this week, don’t you have any other stuff to do?” you asked him with a hint of concern, but your tone failed you as it sounded like your usual nagging.

“Well, first of all, we’re of the same age, you don’t have to scold me,” you glared at him for his a-matter-of-fact answer.

“Second, I’m not an architecture student like you.” He then stuck his tongue out in an attempt to annoy you even more. 

“Well first of all, Han Jisung, that was so fucking mature of you,” you retorted mocking his dramatic voice and turning your head again to your desk before continuing,

“Second, I won’t help you–” 

“Yeah? Then I’ll tell mom that you haven’t been doing the dishes for two nights now.” And that made you turn your gaze again to your brother who grinned as he successfully caught your attention, again.

“Screw you, we had a deal.” You told him as you faced your plate again, Han fucking Jisung can wait.

“Wait until I finish my plate then I’ll drive you there.” You heard Jisung celebrate in joy as he lied flat on your bed, patiently waiting for you to finish.

You see, even though you are twins and you practically share the same birthday, you grew up owning the title of being born a minute earlier than Jisung. This resulted in your parents seeing you as the more responsible one than your twin. It added up to the fact that you and Jisung are polar opposites when it came to your personalities. Let’s just say that he’s the more outgoing one and you’re more of the type to lock yourself up in your room all day. 

“Is it a huge party?” you asked Jisung from the passenger seat of your mom’s beloved mini van that was now yours to drive around. 

“Not really, it’s just the inner circle this time” he said as you stopped for a red traffic light.

“I’ll just wait for you in the car then.” You answered him with a nod of understanding.

“No, that will be horrible y/n, why would you wait in the car? It’s cold.”

You looked at him meaningfully before turning your gaze at the road again as the traffic light already turned green. Jisung immediately got why you were stern on staying inside of the car instead of bonding with him and your circle of friends, well, some of them.

“What’s wrong with being with him in the same room? It’s not like you’ll be forced to talk to him.” He explained, his voice laced with concern and worry that you may be upset with him for having this conversation.

“I don’t know Jisung…” you mumbled as you turned to the right corner, finally entering the village where Hyunjin lives.

“You are good friends y/n” Jisung whispered, looking outside of the window as the car passed by the familiar set of houses that he remembers by heart.

“We were good friends, Jisung” you answered, already pulling up in front of Hwang's porch.

“Then what went wrong?”

What went wrong? That question rang in your head with the consistent wave of various emotions as you took notice of the person by the house’s entrance.

Ever since you were a kid, you’ve always had this poor memory skills. This is the reason why you often misplace your things that leads to losing them. However, there’s this one kid that helped you with that problem. 

It was during your fourth grade in middle school when you first met him. It was that one particular day that went totally wrong as you fought with your brother early in the morning  because he’s being an annoying little prick and woke you up yelling your name, which you hated a lot by the way, and your day got even more sour when your teacher passed the module of mathematical problems and you seem to have lost your pen, seeing to it that it wasn’t inside your mustard yellow pencil case. You know that you’re screwed specially when 15 minutes into answering the module, you still have no pen to write and solve with. Because first, it may sound miserable, but you have no friends and second, your pride stood still, refusing to talk to Jisung even when you clearly needed help.

The moment that your teacher left your classroom, a boy with a raven hair, chubby cheeks and a cute mole by his left chubbier cheek approached you,

“Hey, you can use my spare one.” He said. And who are you to refuse the kind offer? So, you accepted it and muttered a whisper of thank you before your teacher came back.

By the time that all of your classes were finished, you decided to return the pen to the said boy. You slowly approached him even before your brother had reached you, earning a confused look from Jisung.

“Uh, hey thank you for earlier and uh… here’s your pen.” Your nine-year-old introverted ass managed to say out loud.

“Oh y/n! You’re welcome!” to say that you were shocked was an understatement. How did he know your name when you don’t even talk to anyone in class besides your brother? And you also felt shy, and a bit guilty because you clearly don’t know his name.

“I’m sorry but, I don’t know your name.” you shyly said, head hanging low and fingers fidgeting with the straps of your backpack. But then you looked up when you heard soft giggles coming from the boy.

“It’s Seungmin! And no worries y/n,” nine-year-old Seungmin said.

“By the way, I’m coming by your place later to play video games with Jisung. You can join us if you’d like!”

And this was the start of it. You and Seungmin became inseparable. Maybe it’s because seungmin helped you by letting you borrow his pen and his kindness touched one of the strings inside your heart or maybe it was how cute his chubby cheeks are with the left one a bit larger than the right or maybe it was how he included you in every conversations when you were hanging out with them by your house’s living room just to play left4dead with your brother’s ps3. But you’ve grown to be the best of friends from then on. 

Every Saturday, you would alternately visit each other’s house studying your Sciences and Maths with the sides of playing video games and watching classic cartoons. Seungmin also helped with you misplacing things often. He suggested writing on a memo pad every single thing you wanted to remember later on, every day, but only those that are important. Seungmin is also quite observative with his surroundings. For he would always know that the pen you’re looking for is located between the locks of your hair which is tied in a bun and the scrunchie that you’re trying to find was inside your now amber pencil case that you love carrying around. You were so close that even both of your parents even tagged you as the ones who seem like twins than you and Jisung. 

Ever since you were a kid you’ve always had this poor memory skill and you still wonder until now the reason how and why you can’t forget everything about a certain Kim Seungmin when he seems to have forgotten every inch of your existence.

You heard a loud knock coming from the window of the passenger's seat which interrupted you from your short trip down to memory lane. You squint your eyes to recognize the person despite the dark and obsidian night clouding your vision. Recognizing it to be Hyunjin, you unlocked the car doors for him.

“Seungmin told me that he saw you here,” he started as he sat comfortably now by the passenger seat.

“and Jisung fell asleep in the middle of a movie” he continued. You sighed, expecting nothing much of your brother that shared the same trait as yours when it came to enduring long hours of sitting in front of a tv and just watching. 

“Can you help me bring him here?” You asked as you had an agreement with Jisung that you’ll both be home before sunrise. 

“Why don’t you stay the night y/n? I mean, not here. You can join us inside.” Hyunjin asked even though he already knew the answer.

“It’s my responsibility to bring him home, Hyunjin,” you said, immediately dismissing his suggestion.

“Besides, if mom and dad come home and we’re out of sight, then we’ll be dead as meat” Hyunjin scoffed at your reply making you question him in silence.

“Jisung already told me that your parents won’t be back for the next two days.” Oh. Well, shit.

“Come on, y/n, let’s get you inside. It’s cold out here.” All your hopes of going home with Jisung tonight was shattered as Hyunjin was already pulling you outside of your car, putting the sketchbook on your lap inside of your bag, which was lying in the backseat of your car, and dragging you towards their house.

“Y/n’s here!!” Hyunjin clearly made sure that everyone knew your presence inside the house. Your eyes immediately tried to find a sleeping figure of your brother by the cushion but he’s not there.

“Oh? y/n! I made your favorite snacks” and there he was, standing by the kitchen counter with a bowl of strawberries and melted chocolate in his hands. You glared at Hyunjin at this and the latter only apologetically looked at you and mouthed a ‘sorry’. Stuck in the situation, you only sighed as you took a seat in one of the couches as you heard how Hyunjin broke down to Jisung the details of how he managed to force your ass here. 

“Y/n! my little one!” a voice called out coming from the kitchen which you certainly recognize that belongs to Chan. He sat down beside you and immediately attacked you with one of his big and comfortable hugs. 

“I really missed you” he whispered in your ear before pulling away.

Felix announced that the movie is about to start which made everyone get back to their places. Jisung handed you your strawberries before he sat down with felix by the couch opposite to yours. You scanned your eyes to the people around you as you took notice of everyone in here. Chan who was now sitting by the carpet in front of the couch you were on. Changbin and Jeongin who were cuddled like babies by the longest couch, Felix, Hyunjin and Jisung who were now arguing in whispers of who will be able to cuddle Hyunjin’s Ryan plush. Minho, who just came back from the restroom and sat in front of Changbin and Jeongin. And—

Your thoughts were cut when a blanket was softly draped by your shoulders. You glanced behind you only to see the person you’re trying to avoid who was also looking at you,

“It’s… cold.” He said, deciding to turn away before you even return a ‘thank you’. You took the blanket in your hands and realized that it’s his own personal blanket. The one that he carried around whenever he would sleepover at your place before.

The movie ended and it was no surprise that both you and Jisung had already fallen asleep. Well, more than half of you are already in a deep slumber. The only ones awake are Chan, Minho and Seungmin.

"Are we gonna let them sleep like that or….?" Minho asked as Chan already started cleaning up the place from empty snacks and cups.

"I think the boys can manage to sleep in here, just bring more pillows and blankets," Chan answered, his figure disappearing towards the kitchen.

"Oh! and bring y/n upstairs to Hyunjin's room!" Chan declared.

Seungmin only watched as Chan and Minho did their thing, elbow propped to the armchair of the single seated sofa he's in and eyes boring directly to you, seeping. Just as when Minho was about to carry you to Hyunjin's room as Chan instructed, Seungmin sat up straight from his slouching position.

"I'll take her," he said,

"... uh, upstairs." Minho only looked at him before heaving a sigh and letting Seungmin do it.

Seungmin then approached you, taking notice of how his blanket draped over your sleeping figure. He sighed heavily before placing his arms beneath your neck and knees, carrying you in the comfort of his arms. You shifted in your sleep and snuggled closer to Seungmin's neck unconsciously due to his warmth being in close proximity to your naturally cold body.

“Be careful” Minho instructed as Seungmin started to head for the stairs. 

Seungmin successfully laid you down the bed and carefully tucked you in beneath the sheets, attempting to take his blanket from you. But you tugged on it and cuddled with it more in your unconscious state. Seungmin chuckled at how adorable you looked and decided to just let you have it. It also reminded him of that one precious memory with you.

"Seungmin, I'm really, really sorry. I thought that I placed it in here already." you said as you checked Seungmin’s duffle bag once more. You were so sure that you’ve included his blanket there, which he lent you the previous day. Your eyes started to water at the thought of misplacing Seungmin’s favorite blanket at the cabin, because you always lose things.

“Have you checked your bag?” Seungmin said as he opened your backpack that lies beside his. He scrambled through the pile of clothes inside and a minute later, he felt the familiar smoothness of the cotton of his blanket. He sighed in relief before bringing it out, showing it to you.

“Y/n, it’s in here” he chuckled as he held it in your vision. You let out a shaky breath before tears came running down from your eyes. All of the frustrations from earlier and the anxiety of losing something important to your best friend came crashing to you as your adrenaline finally settled down, resulting in letting it all out. Seungmin, with years of knowing that you have a shitty tolerance with how your lacrimal glands work, led you to the surface of the bed. Encircling his warm hands to your much colder ones as he rubs soothing circles at the back of it with his thumb. Just like what he always did whenever you needed someone’s comfort. One that you can’t just vocally ask someone of and one that only a certain Kim Seungmin can do. 

It was one of Seungmin’s favorite memories of you. It wasn’t because you cried, god no, Seungmin hates seeing you cry. It was the level of intimacy that your friendship with him has. You weren’t in your best shape, but he saw how you cared for him and not just him but also the things that he owns and the sentiments that they hold. How you value your relationship with him that even a stupid blanket of made you bawl your eyes out. It was how special and dear he is to you, not the expensive, crystal, gems that you both always laugh at whenever you go online shopping, but it’s special like how you always wore this long, beige, soft-cottoned cardigan of yours, the one where you don’t want to lose it so you’ll just use it in every kind of opportunity there is, to keep it in your sight. And believe it or not, Seungmin regrets every decision he made when everything that he had with you came to an end. Because it took him a year in college, and an ample amount of avoiding you, to realize that you were more than just a best friend.

You suddenly woke up from your sleep, feeling quenched for water. Then you remembered that you haven't had any drop of water after the sweets that you consumed earlier. You made your way towards the kitchen from Hyunjin's room, knowing the directions well, based on your last memories from this house. Reaching the kitchen counter, you spotted a familiar figure sitting by the table. But you chose to ignore him as you made your way to the fridge after grabbing a glass of water by one of the cabinets.

"Hey… y/n," you choked on your glass of water as you heard him suddenly speak. You wiped your lips before turning around to face him.

"Can we perhaps, uh… talk?" You took a sharp breath in as you totally did not expect him to initiate a conversation with you. 

Seungmin was beyond nervous. He can already hear his heart pounding in his chest as you slowly approached the table, taking your time to somehow process the questions in your head. You took the seat in front of him, the grazing of the chair's feet against the marble floor being the only sound that was heard in the dread of the night. You softly sighed before turning your gaze towards the boy's hazelnut orbs, which was a wrong decision as it reflected against the moonlight from the window behind you, effortlessly making you lost with how his eyes showcased faint sadness and longingness. 

It was during your last December as a senior high school, you guess it was when everything went wrong.

You were watching Seungmin's baseball game, excitedly screaming his name when your phone rang obnoxiously from your pocket. At first you ignored it, thinking it was just Felix trying to convince you to accompany him at the bake sale, even though he's fully aware that you're with Seungmin. But then your phone did not stop ringing and by the third time, you answered. It was Jisung's number, but the voice doesn't belong to him. It was a call from the hospital, telling you that you must come immediately for your brother was caught in an accident. They told you to don't panic but here you are, quickly getting off from the bleachers while texting Seungmin about your sudden disappearance.

You reached the hospital with your anxiety rising in every step that you take. The nurse instructed you to wait outside as your brother was undergoing an operation. You were frightened, of course. Your parents at that time were both out of town and you can't call your friends knowing that they're still in the middle of their classes, but you settled on sending them a message. Hours went by as you painstakingly waited for the doctor to come out of the operating room. Chan arrived first out of your friend group and that's when you broke down. Weeping and bawling your eyes out as he engulfed you with his warm arms. Your friends slowly piled up in the white hallways of the hospital, but your best friend was still nowhere in sight. The doctor finally came out and told you about your brother's condition. Apparently, Jisung was caught in a car accident, the driver of the car was over speeding, but his breaks don’t work. Jisung will now be transferred in a separate room and you just have to wait for him to wake up. 

“Where’s Seungmin?” Hyunjin pointed out as you all headed for the room Jisung was transferred to.

“His game wasn’t done yet when I received the call.” you said, a bit tired from crying due to the events of that day.

“But it’s been hours already. I’m sure his game wouldn’t last that long” Felix stated, clearly concerned because they all know how you and Seungmin treat each other and it was evident, by the way you search for the entrance of the hallway every now and then, that you’re looking for your best friend. 

“He’ll come by.” you said, completely ignoring everyone else as you sat on a chair near Jisung’s bed and it wasn’t that long when you had fallen asleep, clutching your brother’s hand in yours.

Seungmin came by the next day, explaining that he had to stay after the game for some stuffs that their coach instructed him and you noticed that something is wrong. It bothers you how he can’t look directly in your eyes as he explained. Because Seungmin wasn’t like that. He would always look at you whenever he tells you something important but that day, he chose to avoid your gaze. And one of the things that you regretted doing was not asking him about it because after that, Seungmin became distant.

The first two months after the incident, it was still tolerable,  after school hangouts slowly lessened, with Seungmin spending his extra time for baseball practices and you totally understand it, you still have lunch times together anyways. But then it didn’t last long, when you all came back to school, having to spend your last semester as senior high school students, Seungmin suddenly doesn’t sit with you during lunch anymore. He started to hang out with the jocks, his teammates. It doesn’t also help that he’s cancelled every road trip that you both scheduled way before the previous semester ended. Your weekly game nights with him became monthly ones, until he skipped one month, or maybe two... or three, and it became countless that you never cared anymore. Everything that you’ve been doing with Seungmin, you became used to doing them all alone now. And you can only bask in silence as you continue to question yourself, What happened?

You used to hate losing things that you value dearly, but you never knew that losing someone would hurt much more than the things you lost. And Seungmin, he was among those that you lost but the difference this time is that you knew. You knew that he was slowly slipping away from you but you just let him. Thinking it was okay, thinking maybe, he grew tired of you, of how he was always the one to look out for you but everyone including you, knew that it doesn't make a point. Seungmin won't just slip away like that or that's what you thought. 

“I’m sorry,” Seungmin broke the endearing silence that surrounds the both of you.

“For everything.” You only stared at him which he took as a signal to go on.

“Remember the university that I always told you about before?” Of course you remember, he couldn’t stop talking about it, junior year. You nodded in response as he went on,

“The same day of Jisung’s accident, I got offered for a scholarship to study there and I didn’t know what to do. My parents kept bugging me to accept it and they are already planning for my future on their own. It was my dream school, y/n." you saw a stray tear that grazed seungmin’s left chubbier cheek that you love the most, making you want to wipe it but no, you have to keep yourself cool or all the walls that you built after him will be instantly destroyed.

"I was confused, because in every future plan that I had, prior to being offered that scholarship, you were already included," Seungmin continued, his voice cracking as he tried to suppress his sobs.

"y/n, I didn't want to lose you." he said before tears were rushing down his delicate features, 

"You already did." you said, your now glassy eyes locked with his.

"y/n–"

"No, Seungmin, you had a choice to tell me everything before. You should've told me and I would understand the situation, but you did not. Instead you slowly left me. Do you even know how much I had gone through?" you cut him off. 

"I– I'm sorry," 

Seungmin was scared, then and now, to see how you're drifting away from him. The only difference was that when he made that decision before, he was scared of his growing feelings for you, feeling more than what the title ‘best friend’ holds, which pushed him to do what he did. He knows, his defense mechanism was bullshit. But then now, he is scared of the possibility that you'll cut him off of your life, without him telling you what he truly felt just because he doesn't want to add more flame to the burning of your wounds. 

"I was a coward, I know. So, please, let me make it up to you." you scoffed at his reply,

"Why now? It's been two years, Seungmin. It probably won't hurt you to have me completely out of your life because you clearly are doing well on your own" 

"Han Jisung," he said which had taken you back,

"He won't let me near you after senior year." you sat there in silence, Jisung did what now?

"You can ask him." Seungmin added but you weren't paying attention as everything in your head is now in pure chaos. You know you can't think straight at this moment so you just sat there in silence, trying to organize the haywire in your brain.

"Did you accept the scholarship?" you asked, which startled Seungmin.

"I did." 

"Good for you. I'd feel guilty if you haven't." you sighed as you glanced at the clock and noticed that it's already half past four in the morning. You stood up from your seat, preparing to go back to sleep.

"I'm going to sleep, you?" you asked him.

"I'll stay for a while." he said, looking up at you with slumped shoulders.

"I forgive you, Min, I already did a long time ago," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"But I'm sorry, I don't think I can give you what you're looking for right now." 

There are things in your life that you have longed to look for and in some instances, you tend to find them at the most random places, in the most unexpected times. But after not seeing them for a long period of time, you happen to forget the value that it holds, how important they were, and nothing will remain besides the nostalgic memories that it held. That’s what you felt with Seungmin right now. He was your best friend, until he wasn’t. You were inseparable until he slipped away from your bond. And now, every time you see him, you’ll be reminded of how he once left you and the possibilities of it repeating. Because you believe that losing something once can be a mistake but losing it twice means you’re not responsible enough to keep it.

[twittytelly]

An Unexpected Gain

Chapter Four - Once Upon a Time

Colin Shea X Female Reader

Previously…

Series Masterlist

A/N: So this is the end of the main story, but not the end of the road. I am planning on writing a little epilogue, plus once I get it off my old laptop I'm going to edit my first first draft of chapter 3 and turn it into another side chapter. I just want to thank you all so much for your feedback on this story, it really means the world to me – I will definitely be writing more Colin stories alongside fic for some of Chris' other pre-Cap roles in the future. Also this chapter would probably not exist without @southerngracela​ read this to see why.

Warnings: Sexual references, swearing, bleeding in pregnancy, miscarriage scare.

Mood board by@imanuglywombat​

Colin didn't sleep that night, paralysed by the guilt that had flooded his veins. He was desperate to find a way to make things better, to make things right. He knew that things could not go back to how they were before, but he didn't mind. Deep down he had always wanted the traditional rituals, pumpkin carving, Easter egg hunts and Christmas tree decorating; but he figured that being raised by his father, who's only method of father-son bonding was to bring him along to a stakeout coupled with his selfish nature meant that fatherhood was not for him.

The blinding sun that invaded through the crack in the curtains informed Colin that morning had arrived. Forcing himself out of bed, he had a new resolve. Colin figured that he may have blown his chance with you, but he could never forgive himself for fucking up his chance with his kid. Besides, you deserved far better than he could ever give you.

-

Things had gotten better between yourself and Colin in the weeks following the showdown in the hallway. While that night was not mentioned again, Colin had gone above and beyond to show that he wanted to be as involved in your pregnancy as possible. The day after the confrontation, you had arrived home from work to find a big bouquet of your favourite flowers alongside a hamper full of crackers, hard boiled sweets, and all the ginger flavoured snacks and drinks available with a note saying:

If none of this works or you get a weird craving, let me know. I'm at your beck and call. C xx

But that was just the start of it. Colin seemed to have obtained every baby book in Boston, and then set up a shared iCalendar so he could be there for every appointment. There was also the extensive research he'd done into midwives, antenatal classes and even hypnobirthing. Not a day went by without Colin sharing a link to a baby product, stating that he would have to buy most things for himself to keep at his place anyway – as much as that stung you were pleased that he was prepared to step up for the sake of the baby.

You were trying your best to overcome your feelings for Colin, but his actions had caused the opposite to happen. How could you not be in love with your handsome neighbour who rubbed your back as you vomited and looked at you as if you were most amazing person on the planet; who would always get you whatever you were craving after a gig, even if it meant going out of his way; who you could talk to about anything and everything, from absolute nonsense to your deepest fears about motherhood?

-

Colin was tearing his apartment apart looking for the right cable for his amp. Band practice may have only been taking place on the roof, but he didn't want to make his bandmates wait around. While he was rooting around his desk, he knocked his mouse, causing his computer monitor to come to life and your face lit up the screen. Colin remembered snapping that moment months ago, when you found him alone on the rooftop after one of your dates had gone wrong. You had weasled Colin into playing one of your favourite songs and began dancing in the moonlight. Colin recalled how he had to capture the look of pure unadulterated joy on your face as you swayed in the glow of the city. Colin could still hear you giggling as you raced down the stairs to his apartment and he realised then that he was done for. He didn't fuck you that night: for the first time in Colin's life, he had made love.

Colin was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't hear the frantic banging on the door. He looked away from his computer and sighed.

“Hang on I'll be up in a s-”

“Colin I'm bleeding!”

-

Colin would never remember how he had gotten you both to the hospital, but he could never forget the tension that filled the air as you sat in the waiting room in the maternity ward. Colin was trying his best to stay calm for your sake, but his insides were still twisting and turning. His heart shattered as he felt you tremble in his arms. He did his best to soothe you by delicately running his hand along your back, your face buried in his shoulder. If Colin had his way he would pull you onto his lap, however he knew that now more than ever he had to respect your boundaries. Colin noticed his shoulder moisten as your trembles turned into sobs, he tightened his arms around you and placed a chaste kiss to your temple.

“Hey, hey you're gonna be okay” He said desperate to comfort you. “Whatever happens, I'm here.” You hands tightened on his plaid shirt as you looked up into his eyes. In that moment, Colin swore that he would do anything to take away the fear that was in your eyes and used his thumb to wipe away the tears on your puffy cheeks.

“I'm just so scared Colin.” You said in a voice barely above a whisper. Colin leant down to place another kiss on your forehead.

“I know sweetheart, me too.” Colin confessed. Colin opened his mouth to say something else, but before the words could come out your name was called out. Once again your destiny was calling you, except this time you were hoping with every fibre of your being that pregnancy would be the result. Colin rose from his seat and turned to you holding out his hand.

“I promise that we're in this together.”

-

Once you had heard your baby's heartbeat, it was explained that it was likely a sub-chorionic bleed and you were still likely to have an healthy pregnancy. As the nurse explained that you needed to take it easy for a few days, you couldn't help but zone into Colin's demeanour. As your twelve week scan was still a couple of weeks away this was Colin's first scan. When you saw the look on his face as he heard his child's heartbeat for the first time, you knew that no matter how abnormal this whole situation was; you could not be happier that you were doing this with Colin.

You felt that you should have been excited or at least relieved, but you were numb and exhausted. As you climbed into the passenger seat of Colin's van, you barely registered him speaking to you; luckily he didn't press you for an answer and he began to drive. Instinctively you placed your hand on your belly, where your warm hand brushed against the strip of skin that was exposed after your top had ridden up slightly.

You were still preoccupied when Colin made an unannounced stop and so you didn't notice that he had gotten out of the van until he was getting back in. He passed you a warm paper bag that smelled of fries. As the engine came back to life you noticed the excitement was rolling off Colin in waves and for the first time in what felt like decades a small smile crept across your face.

Soon enough you were outside your apartment block, where Colin escorted you inside with one arm slung protectively around your shoulders. Once you were inside and settled on the sofa, Colin retreated to the kitchen, but within seconds was back and handing you a plate of your exact order from one of your favourite burger places. Without saying a word, you inhaled your meal like a lioness devouring her prey. You noticed Colin sit beside you as closely as possible and you both ate in silence.

You couldn't help but think of the parallels between now and that night a few weeks ago; especially as Colin was there for you in the exact same way. It was as if he intuitively knew what you needed. You knew that the pair of you were committed to having this baby as friends, but you couldn't help but feel that he was acting more like a boyfriend. You knew that once the stupor had worn off you had to bring it all up again.

When you both had finished eating, Colin took the empty plates into the kitchen. As he returned you noticed that the excitement had evolved into nerves as he tried to calculate his next move. He stood to the side of the sofa and fidgeted about, until you stood up and made your way to him. Taking your hand in his, you looked up into his beautiful blue eyes.

“I don't think I can sleep if I'm here on my own, please can you stay until I drop off?”

“Of course I will sweetheart,” Colin answered. “You know I'd do anything for you.”

Once again he let you lead him into your bedroom, but Colin looked away as you kicked off your trainers and socks. Not bothering with your pyjamas, you shimmed out of your jeans and bra. As he heard rustle of your quilt Colin lay on the bed beside you, staying above the duvet.

“Sorry for being such a misery guts, I know I should be more excit-”

“Don't be silly Y/N.” Said Colin sympathetically. “God knows you've been through the ringer tonight, of course you're exhausted.”

You nodded gratefully. “I know this may sound a bit silly, but could you just – I don't know – tell me a story or something – I need to take my mind of tonight for a bit.” Colin gave you a thoughtful look, before kissing you on the forehead again.

“I know just the tale.” He said jokingly as you made yourself comfortable and closed your eyes.

“Once upon a time, just down the corridor lived a jester. The jester was handsome, smart and sexy as hell.”

You did your best to suppress the snort that broke free, of course Colin would use the opportunity to talk about himself.

“The jester was a gifted musician, who would often use his talents to enchant a wench back to his chambers: where he would demonstrate his other mind-blowing capabilities.”

“Colin if you're gonna use this as an excuse to brag about your sexual escapades then I'd rather be alone.” You said in faux annoyance.

“Of course not and if you stop interrupting me, you'll see this is an epic love story.”

Sighing, you indicated to Colin that he was free to continue.

“One day the most fair and beautiful maiden moved in opposite the jester. The jester tried with all of his might, but the maiden was immune to the jester's charms; for she dreamed of being swept off her feet by a handsome prince and the jester believed that true love was not his fate.”

You opened your eyes and looked at Colin as he was staring at the wall. Was he talking about you? A past conquest? Some made up fantasy woman? As Colin turned to look at you, you quickly closed your eyes and hoped he didn't catch you staring.

“The maiden found many suitors, but they did not appreciate the maiden's beauty and kind nature. One fateful night, the jester saved the maiden from the clutches of a troll disguised as a prince. The maiden thanked the jester by letting him spend a magical night in her chambers.”

Your heart started to pound against your ribcage. Yes, he was talking about you, but why? What was Colin trying to achieve?

“The next day the jester promised to help the maiden find her true love and would satisfy her needs in the mean time. However, as the jester spent more time with the maiden, he began to enjoy her companionship and as the weeks turned to months the jester realised that he had fallen in love with the her.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart skipped a beat. Colin was in love. With you... But when? How? Why the fuck didn't he say anything?! You noticed that Colin's breathing had changed and as his fingertips tentatively brushed your across your face to move a stray hair, you opened your eyes to see the azure of his eyes looking right back at you with the boldness to take down a dragon. Before you had the chance to say anything, Colin continued to speak.

“The jester knew that he was not good enough for the maiden and believed that once she had found her prince charming he would have to do whatever it took in order for her to be happy.”

“Colin I-”

“Sh!” Colin interrupted, pressing his index finger to your lips. The story isn't over yet sweetheart.” You decided not to argue to see where Colin was trying to go. As Colin removed his finger, he took a deep breath.

“One day the jester decided to visit the maiden to find that she was most upset. The jester did his best to comfort the maiden, but he found something that did not belong to him... something that... I assumed that it wasn't mine.”

You sat up, your heartbeat accelerating. “Colin wh-”

“The week before, you brought home that James guy home.”

“He missed the last train home and I offered him the couch, but he tried to get into bed with me so I kicked him out. Anyway Colin I was six weeks along when I found out.” You explained as you tried to figure out if you were angry or hurt. “You were the only person I was sleeping with for a while. Colin we could have been together weeks ago, why didn't you say anything?”

“Because I'm not the guy girls want to end up with, I'm just the slutty neighbour. All everyone wants from me is a second round in the morning.”

“Yeah and you proved that when-” you started feeling more agitated.

“If I could take that back then I would!” Colin almost snapped, hurt filling his eyes. Colin went to look away, but you reached out and put your hand on his cheek, forcing him to keep eye contact. “Y/N don't forget that you hid from your feelings for as long as I did. You deserve to be swept off your feet and to ride off into happily ever after with your prince charming, and that's not me.”

“Listen here, Jester.” you said as your thumb stroked Colin's cheek. “I don't want that bullshit. I want Once Upon a Time with you; the guy who never fails to make me laugh, who filled his cupboards with the exact brand of ginger tea that I like, who always comes to my rescue when I need him most.”

Colin's eyes widened like a child on Christmas morning as you leaned in closer and dropped your voice to a whisper.

“Also don't tell the little one, but the sex is pretty mind-blowin-”

Before you had a chance to finish, you felt Colin's soft lips on yours. Bedsheets were shoved to one side as arms wrapped around each of your bodies, pulling you both as close to each other as possible. You deepened the kiss, allowing Colin's tongue entrance, where you both tried to disclose the feelings that words could not define. Eventually, the kiss came to an end, and you both parted for air. Resting your head on his shoulder, you watched as Colin hesitantly placed his hand on your belly. There was no bump yet, but you couldn't help the goosebumps that appeared as Colin stroked your stomach. Colin looked up, with the biggest grin you could ever imagine, excited for what the future had in store.

“I love you Y/N.” Beaming back at him, you replied simply with the only four words needed.

“I love you too.”

-

Taglist: @whiskey-cokenfanfic @mrs-captain-evans @ransomsweatersandcappuccinos @southerngracela @katiew1973 @supersoldiersruined-me @kelbabyblue @amiquette @feelmyroarrrr @patzammit @daydreamerinadazedworld @denisemarieangelina @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​ @bellaireland1981

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Hatef---k (Johnny Utah x Fem! Reader)

Summary:  Johnny is your partner and you hate him until a pencil skirt changes everything.

Pairing: Johnny x fem!reader

Author’s notes: requested by @caryled based on Spicy prompts. #7: “Keep beinding over and i might have to pound you till you cant walk straight” + #28: “You hate me so much, but you love it when I fuck you”. The title’s from a song by The Bravery

Wordcount: 1470

Warnings: Smut; handcuffs; some very bad language.

You never wore skirts for work because you didn’t want any of your coworkers to see you as anything other than an agent just like them. But after three weeks of double shifts chasing after a forger who had been conning people into buying his fake Van Gogh paintings, you found yourself without clean slacks to wear to work.

So, you had two choices, either put on some jeans or that pencil skirt your mom had bought you for Christmas. At least you’d look professional in the skirt, even if it was a little on the small side and hugged your curves like a second skin.

You regretted your decision however when you stepped out of the elevator and every eye of the bullpen seemed to be on you. But it was too late turn back so you held your chin up and made a beeline to your desk, which was right in front of Utah’s.

You two had been partners for a couple of months now. Utah was new to the white-collar unit and was still learning the ropes, but you could tell how disgruntled he was with this assignment. It sure wasn’t as exciting as bank robberies, but it had its good moments, or at least you thought so. Utah was only bored by it and had a tendency of making impulsive decisions and jumping the gun.

He almost ruined one of your cases on his first week in and you couldn’t stand him. But since he was the rookie and you were the chick, your unit chief stuck the two of you together and you didn’t have much say in it. Neither did Utah and you could tell he didn’t like you either.

After these months of working together, you reached a mutual agreement. You were gonna hate each other and annoy each other and tease each other because that was what partners did.

It shouldn’t have been so amusing the way he nearly choked on his coffee when he saw you, but it brought you so much glee.

Maybe this was a good way payback for all the times he made you flush pink in front of everyone by saying the most innocuous things on your ear with that low, throaty voice of his.

“Need a bib, Utah?” you asked in an overly sweet voice as he tried to clean the spilled liquid from his shirt, earning a glare.

It was deeply satisfying to do the teasing for once and you were going to take full advantage of it. Especially when you noticed how much the skirt really affected him.

The first time wasn’t on purpose. You had been distracted, reading the file you just picked up from the copy machine when you dropped your highlighter and bent down to pick it up. But after you heard Utah’s sharp intake of breath and saw the way he was flushing and keeping his eyes away from you, you made sure you did it as often as you could.

By the end of the day, you could see that Johnny was getting worked up by the way he kept glaring at his paperwork, cheeks flustered.

“So quiet today, Utah,” you commented, leaning your hip against his desk. Everyone else had called a day, so it was just the two you in the bullpen. “Something’s wrong?”

As you spoke, you toyed with the miniature football figurine on his desk, letting it slip through your fingers and fall to the floor.

“Ops,” you smirked at him as you bent down again, but this time, instead of giving him a view of your ass, you made sure he could see down your shirt, the curve of your breasts and the hint of lace of your bra.

He grabbed your wrist before you could reach the figurine, making you raise your gaze and met his eyes. They were watching you with such intensity you felt a shiver down your spine and had to look away.

"Keep bending over and I might have to pound you till you can’t walk straight,” he whispered, voice husky and you felt heat spreading through your body like a wildfire.

“Is that a promise?”  

The words spilled from your lips almost against your will. Sure you had noticed the sexual tension that existed between the two of you, but you weren't supposed to address it, to admit it, to put out there.

As soon as you spoke, Utah got up from his seat, his motions so fast he made you jump back startled. Since he was still holding on your wrist, you didn’t manage to go very far. Instead, he used his grip to pull you forward, until your chest was pressed flush against his.

“So, is that what you want?” he asked against your ear. “Do you want me to bend you over my desk and fuck you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, goosebumps on your skin as his hot breath tickled your neck.

“All you had to do was ask,” he grinned devilishly as he spun you around and pushed you towards the table.

And how did this even happen? You had the upper hand three seconds ago, but now you were face-first on a pile of case reports, hands pulled behind your back as Utah stood somewhere behind you, out of your sight.

You waited on bated breath for his next move until you felt cold metal around your wrists and the click of the handcuffs. It made you breath pick up speed and wet arousal to spread between your legs.

Your heart raced in anticipation when you heard first his belt being undone, then the noise of his zipper and finally the rustling of fabric, before Utah pressed against you, blanketing your body with his, the tip of your fingers touching the hairs of his lower abs.

He rocked his hips against yours, pulling a low groan from your reluctant lips. You could feel his cock pressing against your ass, how big it was, how hard… and you were soaking your panties.

Utah hiked your skirt up to your waist, exposing your ass and panties to the cold office air as he ran his finger teasingly over the wet lace covering your cunt as clicked his tongue at you.

“Guess I wasn’t the only one being teased today, huh?”

Even if you couldn’t see his face, you knew the bastard was smirking.

“Are you just gonna talk all night…” The sudden press of his cock inside you made you cut off your sentence with a groan.

“What was that? Didn’t hear you,” he taunted, thrusting into you at a fast pace.

“Fuck you, Utah!” you said through clenched teeth as you tried to keep your moans in check. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“But I’m having so much fun fucking you,” he said, bending over to kiss your cheek, just as he reached over to swirl your clit in time with his thrusts. “You hate me so much, but you love it when I fuck you, don’t you?”

The worst thing was that you couldn’t exactly deny it, could you? Here you were, whining in need as Utah fulfilled his promise, pounding into you so hard he was rocking his desk forward, the metal feet scraping the ground like nails on a chalkboard.

You did your best to meet his thrusts, clenching around him as much as you could just to hear him curse under his breath in that guttural tone of his, driving you crazy.

Sooner than you think it was possible, you felt the familiar coiled heat inside snap and spread like a crashing wave. You gasped out his name and arched your back towards him as you came, barely aware of the rumbling groan Utah let out as his hips faltered and he came, spilling inside you.

You laid on the table, catching your breath, feeling as he pulled out of you and you felt you cunt ache at the sudden emptiness.

“You look so hot like this,” he said with a teasing bite to your ass cheek. “With my cum coming out of you.”

That was one of the filthiest things someone ever said to you and it made you want Utah to fuck you all over at how hot it was. Especially in his voice.

Instead, you raised your wrists at him, silently asking him to undo the cuffs, which Utah did, before helping you stand up on shaky legs

“Still hate me?”

“Maybe ten percent less,” you replied with a smirk and Utah snorted.

“I guess I’m gonna have to keep fucking you until it’s a hundred percent,” he said, his lips curling upwards.

“Is that a promise?” you asked pushing your skirt down and your panties up without cleaning up.

“You better believe it.”

xxx

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@poisonedjoinery @ringa-starr @curly-minnie @i-cant-remember-my-old-login @caryled @beyond-antares @kathorax @krazycags01

[thelordstears]

Prepare for some dope ass writing guys gals and nonbinary pals!

“ If love is sinful, and who I am is unholy, then I'll be nothing more than myself.” - Camilla Davidson

“ He follows old scriptures and old fashioned standards of human decency, this is a whole new world, and he'll die on the wrong side of history, while I live on the side that's more loving, accepting, and stable.” - Camilla Davidson

"The human race hates, and hates, and got damn hates. But for what, really? Why hate when you could love instead? All hate does is make ya angry. But love? It hurts, it brings ya pain and sorrow. But it also gives ya peace, happiness and pride. And all those emotions mixed inta one make love, beautiful.” - Sofia Johnson

“ He was gettin' beaten up in some alley, a bunch of white folk decided his skin color, was more important than his humanity.” - Sofia Johnson

“ I am trapped by these memories, because they echo in my head, and I remember everything.. by God, I remember it all. The first time blood other than a fishies stained my hands, the way Caityln'd hold my hand, the way bodies splashed in the seas and the whir of cannon and explosion rang in my head.” - Augustus Seaborg

“ I'm scared, because in this new world, it kill or be killed, fight or die. I raise my weary fists, if only just to survive another day. Because this isn't life, it is survival of the most broken.” - Augustus Seaborg

“ He's everything to me, he's so intertwined into my heart and soul, I imagine he's part of who I am. We're beautifully us, in all our imperfection, we found perfection.” - Malachi Razor

“ Strength isn't in how many pounds you can lift, or how big your muscles are, true strength, is in the heart and mind.” - Malachi Razor

“ As they've always said, violence for violence is the rule of beasts, so does that make war a battlefield, or hunting grounds?” - Burke Castles

“ The leaders start war, but never pull a single trigger. They watch their pawns and brooks move across the board, we never had a King or a Queen, just ourselves and our sins.” - Burke Castles

"I'm the damned priest, the forgotten messiah, I'm just another man. How can you fault me for the sins of another? How can you condemn me, for what I did not do?” - Gusto Mellowrich

“ People use God as an excuse to slaughter, they say they shalt die on the cross for their sins, and don't realize driving nails against the condemned only drives nails into their coffins and secures their place in Hell.” - Gusto Mellowrich

“ I find so much damnation on this Earth, because if this is Earth, by God do I fear Hell.” - Gusto Mellowrich

“ People say God is dead, that his grave is up in the Heavens and he's rotting in his golden throne, but if God was dead, I believe it wouldn't rain. Because it is my belief, that it rains because God weeps for us, he weeps for what has happened. And weeps for what is to come." - Gusto Mellowrich

"Life either kicks you down, or you don't allow yourself to fall.” - Icarus Richens

“ My dear brother has fallen far, he believes his wings clipped, his honor stolen, but if he simply climbed, and took my hand, he would find salvation is for the sinners of this world, which in theory means salvation is for everyone.” - Icarus Richens

“ Gregory is a soldier, he stands sturdy, smelling of ash and smoke, because he let the fires of love build him anew. He is a phoenix, not of light nor darkness, but of love in all of it's grace.” - Icarus Richens

"Even God, sins on the occasion.” - Alastair Sambridge 

“ People walk this earth and call themselves saints whilst sinning just under the nose of the people, we've allowed the commandments to be re-written, where in the commandments did it say, "Steal from the rich?" where in the commandments did it say, "Let the rich steal?" And where in the commandments did it say, "Be sinful as long as it's for a good cause?" - Alastair Sambridge 

“ You believe God loving? If any ruler in history was loving nothing would happen. Imagine what would've happened if George Washington fought violence with peace. We'd still be shackled by Britain, so tell me why it is you wish me to fight your sin, with holiness?" - Alastair Sambridge

"Ain't it the most wonderful thing, bein' able ta break a man and give ta yourself? The Hell's morals doin' in a world that don't give a fuck what happens? It'll tear ya down, push ya down several flights 'a damn stairs, the world is fucking cruel, ya gotta be just as cruel ta survive it.” - Gunther Mirowick

“ I'm only alive because other's aren't.” - Gunther Mirowick

"Isn't it better to sacrifice your life for a good cause rather than die for nothing? I imagine no cause is worth killing for, there's only causes worth dying over, and love, is something to die for.” - Vekel Kidelman

“ Love is what makes us human, the lack of it often creates monsters.” - Vekel Kidelman

"This blackhole in my mind would destroy anyone who dare stepped forth to walk into it's depths, so imagine what's happened to me, wandering inside of it every day.” - Daniel Abacross

“ Knowledge is a weapon, and I've allowed mine to pull triggers and create a cacophony of suffering and the demises of those who didn't deserve death.” - Daniel Abacross

“ I learn this world is a brutal place to live, the killings of innocent men and women is commonplace, but I survive, and when you survive such tormented things you become the very things that tormented you.” - Isiwoah Sakigowami

“ We are not in control of destiny, but at least I'm in control of yours.” - Isiwoah Sakigowami

“ I live by no moral code, because when one is in power, morals only allow the crown to be stolen from atop your head by he who's willing to cut it from your neck.” - Isiwoah Sakigowami

"To live is to die, so might you allow yourself life, so you may experience death?” - Will

“ I have found such a cold heartbeat inside my chest, I believe if one were to perform an autopsy on me, they'd find a hollow ribcage and strings attached to my heart, played like a violin, it may sound beautiful, but the meaning behind the melody is sinful. They'd find the coldest of blood and it'd flow the color of the night sky, except when my soul is involved, the night sky is starless.” - Will

“ My pain shaped me into a beast, and I'll never find the strength to put myself down, because I am no hunter, simply a scared child, trapped inside the mind of a wilder beast he once would've imagined was so fantastical that he could ride it into the sunset. But with the lenses of childhood innocence removed he sees it's bloodstained lip, it's teeth cracked and stuck between each one flesh of a fresh kill, it's eyes crazed with hunger, he'd find nothing but a wild beast, the hint was within the name wilder beast, because it twas simply a beast wilder than any other.” - Will

“ I've learned knowledge is power, but it can be misused dare one use it to harm another. If you use knowledge as a weapon, you've already failed.” - Lola Crabthorn

"If this is what it's like to feel alive, than bury me low. Sink the coffin into the hallowed soil, toss dirt upon my grave and etch my name upon the tombstone, and let this girl finally rest in peace.” - Malarie Cavafich

“ I've grown so cold on this journey to find home, they say home is where the heart is, but perhaps my heart is in so many pieces I can't possibly find home. I've pulled a trigger so many times, I simply believe I can never be whole, because I've stopped the heart beat of so many other's, I ask why mine deserves to beat for another.” - Malarie Cavafich

"Live your life fearin' change, you'll fear yourself in da futcha'. But if ya learn ta embrace change, ya ain't gon' fear da futcha', because da unknown ain't so scary when ya learn if life was predictable, it wouldn't be worf' livin'.” - Daurice Marston

“ I'm nothing to my mind but a meat sack of rotting intention.” - Faymelina Van Patten

“ Though revenge didn't help, I still see him in my nightmares, perhaps he's a haunting now. A poltergeist in my mind who throws my mental state about and crashes around the halls of my mind, creating a ricochet of death and eternal sorrow.” - Faymelina Van Patten

“ Though I wield a spear as a warrior, my heart beats that of a woman who wishes to see only peace, and sadly, peace has to be fought for.” - Nova Toria

“ The meaning of life is different for every soul, for one it might be dancing underneath the stars with the one they love, for another it could be solitude. For some the mind is most keen when surrounded by others, but for others the mind is most keen when surrounded by only their ideas.” - Nova Toria

“ You don't have to fall into the arms of another, you can catch yourself if you wish.” - Nova Toria

“ Just because something can kill, does not mean that is it's only use.” - Morgan Gaskill

"Days come and go, I keep each memory close to my tattered heart, because if I forget the little moments, I forget life.” - Journey Castlehill

“ I don't quite identify with any of the norms people have set in stone, and if people hate me for that, they aren't worth my time. They're stuck in a construct, and refuse to dig themselves out.” - Journey Castlehill

"The rule of predator and prey, the dance of gnashing teeth and ragged fur, a melody of naturality and sinful desire. Thus is the rule of life, a song of gnashing jaw and flowers of misery bloomed from sinfulness so deep not even a God could wipe it from existence.” - Ranbraker

“ She's my hero, really. Even if she's my little sister, she kept me safe from my demons, and I'll always keep her safe from her demons. We've both suffered, both thought who we were is wrong, but you know what? Screw that. If being who I am is a sin, I'll be a sinner. Because I'd rather burn in Hell for being who I am, then enter Heaven being who I'm not.” - Tristy Hem

“ In all my pain, in all my scars, I find hope. Because I still have people I need to find, people I love with all my heart.” - Hailey Fellwitz

“ Be the author of your own story, and remember, not every page is one with pain written upon it. There's peace, too. Fight for your happily ever after." - Hailey Fellwitz

"I've been drowning in the depths of my shattered soul, gulping in false promises and empty threats. And yet here I am, searching for myself when other people is all I've found.” - Tina Diamon

“ People say love is a double edged sword, but that's because you love the wrong people. If you find the right person, love isn't a sword, it's a shield.” - Tina Diamon

“ A love so beautiful can not be destroyed, though the world has tried to tear us apart, it only brought us closer together.” - Tina Diamon

“ They say what's done in the dark shalt be dragged into the light, but I'll only come into the light when I will it so. And when the sun soaks my bones, and light is all you can see, I'll grip my club and let it be the sinking of the sun, cuz when I lower it, you lower a damn coffin.” - Luga the Hidden

“ Us orcs aren't treated so well, so I think it's about time I showed em the monster they damn well created. Because here I am, nothing but claws, teeth and crimson.” - Luga the Hidden

“ I can be vile, I can be a monstrosity, and people'll blame it on my heritage.” - Luga the Hidden

"When you're broken down to nothing, and find yourself mourning all that you've lost, remember what you have. I've been stuck in the past before, but I found there's always a rope, whether it be one of love or hope.” - Thorballa Ulfdottir

“ You have to be careful, when you're in a dark place. Because your decisions could lead you straight to your demise, the path to Hell is paved in bad deeds, don't follow it.” - Thorballa Ulfdottir

"My mind is so filled with ghosts of me you could walk into it and find only a graveyard, every tombstone reading my name, and the name's of those I've slain.” - Sheriff ~~Redacted~~ (Can’t say his name, it’s a twist and my twin sister follows my Tumblr)

“ I hear a blood curdling howl on the wind and I come to the haunting realization that it came from my own throat.” - Sheriff ~~Redacted~~

“ This life, it'll throw you through the ringer and then some, but what matters is that you rise like the champion you are.” - Vasiliki Mathers

“ Family is made up of loyalty, not blood.” - Vasiliki Mathers

“ I've spilt so much damn blood that it's just another habit these days, one trigger pulled, one man dead and one bullet torn through the got damn sky.” - Oswega Creek

“ Ya'll sip on regret as if it were a cure ta your damn sinfulness. But regret can't change the damn past, it only changes the future. But when you decide ya don't wanna live in regret you keep pullin' the damn trigger and watching bullets tear through the sky on burnin' wings and bloodied talons.” - Oswega Creek

“ You better tell the whole world Oswega Creek is coming home, because peace is an option better left in the past and harsh words are best left unsaid lest you wish to end up in a pinewood box with nuthin' but the wrigglers ta give ya company.” - Oswega Creek

"Life ain't all dat bad, ya focus on da shade unda' da tree, ya'll miss da branches dat provide it. Ya can't focus on da bloodshed 'a nature when bird's sing songs just fo' da soddin' world ta 'ear.” - Daisy Gloria

"I know, you'd think a gal like me would have a pitch perfect life like in a shitty comedy movie, but that isn't the case, ya see perfect lives reside in the land of fairy tales and fantasy, while I live in the gritty reality of this bizarre world, life is a bumpy fucking ride, and you better hope you can hold onto those reigns, because sometimes you get bucked off and fall, and sometimes you fucking stay there." - Mary Adler

"Oh if they thought they'd seen the end of days, just wait til they see what happens when they utter the word, "No." - Javier Cross

"The hope of morning can't come if your mind is stuck in the night." - Dale Markus

"I hide in the shade of my deeds, but you, my friend, will lay underneath the shade of a willow." - Edgalzio Halvlies

"I'll sip on this regret as if it were a cure to the disease of my past. But all it'll ever do is poison me." - Chase North

"Jou can regret jour actions, but jou can not change zem." - Marlene Dayvrack

"The echoes of death and tragedy ring in my ears. But it's not my own." - Autumn Wolfmoon 

  "Sin only intensifies when the whole world is set ablaze and all ya got left is the echoes 'a normality." - Davy Blight 

"Reckon we do what it is we always do. Sin as if our lives depended on it, cuz these days, the do." - Davy Blight 

“ You’ll see Hell, it ain’t no man with red skin and a pitchfork, it’s me in all my vengeful rage.” - Davy Blight

"You touch 'im I swear ta every God I'll send you their way fuckin' howling!" - Davy Blight

 "Life don't get that much betta' these days. It's a symphony of broke bones and spilt blood, only difference 'tween you and me is, you're the one singin' the damn song, I'm the one echoing the harp." - Lind Blight 

  "Life ain't a constant state of kill or be killed. There's peace, you just have to fight to achieve it." - Cago Envers 

 "The truth is suffocating. It's why I breathe in a lie." - Sam Dellwotfire

  "I could burn alive within the hatred of my family tree and still I wouldn't find peace." - Rover Calico 

"You know, I'd be who I am if it ever did me any good." - Drew Dreadful 

"All I've ever been is scared, and in this new world, fear only kills everyone but you." - Drew Dreadful 

  "The sky bleeds golden, yet my scars bleed black, and the color of my skin, is but the troubled sin within." - Sandro Colorfeid 

"It ticks the wrong direction, because it is damaging itself in the process of working how it was built to operate." - Gregeno Puley 

  "Ben you live in a family of heroes. Will you become one by circumstance, or will you become one the hard way?" ~~Redacted~~ (Another case of my twin would see his name)

"No one can become me, Ben. Only I hold such a torment." - ~~Redacted~~

"My curse will only be the death of you." - ~~Redacted~~

 "That's where you're wrong, Ben. I am fate, I am the law, I am peace, I am chaos, I am everything, Ben. you're nothing but a speck, whilst I'm the sun." - ~~Redacted~~

"Stars can only be destroyed if they implode upon themselves, and thus I chose to implode so I could destroy the darkness I had found." ~~Redacted~~

"You're so covered in the blood of wolves you think you are one." ~~Redacted~~

"You want to be a leader, step on the podium and speak to your subjects. You want to be a King sit on the throne and wear the crown, you wish to be a subject sit still and listen. But if you want to be a God, show people that resisting your dynasty is a death sentence and all you have to do is snap your fingers to rid yourself of their treacherous ways."  ~~Redacted~~

"They say we aren't our sins, but here I am, nothing but death." - Arthur Wellburn

"I looked Hell in the eyes and all I saw was myself." - Betty Shalfien

"You look evil in the eye, you begin to get a taste for it." - Destallo Starend

"Sometimes secrets are best untold, because when something's too awful for this world it is best erased from time entirely rather then brought to the light." - Yuntara

"Don't walk the path you're given, find a different way, cuz often if someone hands ya a path, and tells you ta walk it, they've got tricks up their sleeves. And they ain't card tricks." - Church Godsel

"Mr. Bundy! Killa' of men! You think you got the damn balls ta take on three devil's? Cuz I'm tellin' you now, you can slay men, but you damn well can't slay legends." - Saul Northutt

"You don't know what I've done in the dark, but unfortunately for you, it hails in comparison to what I'll do in the light." - Corvenstain Bonstellos

"I never pulled you down, Idian, your life was Hell before our destinies intertwined. I could see it in your eyes, the mark of a broken soldier, what was your battle Idian?" - Corvenstain Bonstellos

"Get off the tracks, boy. This is a revolution, and you're in our damn way. Do you wish to be a splatter across the tracks or the conductor?" - Corvenstain Bonstellos (Props go to my twin for the beginning of the line, a callback to what her character said)

"Abel! Your ambition is what's going to kill you in the end." - Corvenstain Bonstellos

"To some, I am life, to other's I am death. It is up to you what end of the blade you receive. The hilt, or the sword." - Raimundus Wolfes

"If the holy spirit were to ever meet me, his name would be tarnished." - Caldwell Ramirez

"Hunting is an art and you're a canvas to be splattered red." - Luther Woolhaun

"The hunt is all about what you do with the prey, how you stalk them and how you execute them. The hunt is a sport, an art, a masterpiece that smells of gunpowder and the tangy scent of iron." - Luther Woolhaun

"All I find in myself is the blood of those deemed weaker than me by the rule of sword." - Violincia Bloodwort

“The pits are me only 'ome. Me 'eart 'as resided 'ere fo' da longest time, and now all it beats is a thirst fo' more." - McCannon Bowitsend

"All it takes to ruin a life is one bullet. But all it took to make mine a glory to behold, was one bullet." - Ewan Hanstammer

"I'd say I'm lost in daydreams, but those are just an echo, these days." - Hanzo Sabian

"I slipped from the edge of my own ignorance." - Pedro Bonfire

“A man who spreads violence is remembered, a man who doesn’t, isn’t. It’s the curse of a hero.” - Miella Fang

"Crumble? We all did that fifteen years ago, we're the rubble of judgment day fighting amongst ourselves, difference between me and most people is, I've been fighting for scraps since I was ten. I'm fit for battle. What about you?" - Scow Wiston

[67-chevy-baby]

Take Away My Heartache

Pairing - Dean x Cas

Rating - 18+ Only!!

Squares Filled - Kink Bingo: Begging and Dean and Cas Bingo: Fight and Make-Up

Tags - SEASON 15 EPISODE 3 SPOILERS, Destiel, Arguments, Angst, Language, Drinking, M/M sex, Anal Fingering, Prostate stimulation, Anal Sex, Begging, Finger sucking, Unprotected sex, Implied self-blame, and I think that’s it. 

Word Count -  3,753

Beta - @winecatsandpizza​

Fic Aesthetic - Yours truly

The Song I Chose - Crazy Love by Van Morrison

Written for - @rockhoochie​’s 1k Followers Writing Challenge, @spnkinkbingo​, and @deanandcasbingo​

Yeah, and why does that something always seem to be you?

The sting of Dean’s words cut through Castiel’s heart like a knife as the sound of the Bunker door shutting behind him echoed in the distance. Truth be told, he’d give anything to run right back into his hunter’s arms and forget the argument ever happened. His hunter. Those two little words used to bring him nothing but joy-something an Angel of the Lord rarely felt. Now …  Now, it only brought tears to his eyes because clearly Dean wasn’t his. Not anymore. 

The dry leaves crunched beneath Cas’ shoes as he walked. The cool autumn air nipping at the skin exposed at his neck made him shiver. Not only were he and Dean over, but he’d lost Jack too. Never in his entire existence had he felt so alone. Jack, his son for all intents and purposes, was dead. Even though there wasn’t anything he could have done to stop it at the time, he still blamed himself. He’d made a promise to Kelly. He swore to her he’d keep her son safe and he couldn’t even do that. 

Hell, maybe Dean was right. Maybe he should have just stuck to the plan. They would have found a way to stop Belphegor. They’d saved the world before. This wasn’t their first go around. Instead, he let his emotions get the better of him and killed the lying sack of shit while he had the chance. He’d figured Dean would have been proud of him, cheered at his braveness. Not once did he think Dean would dismiss him like their ten-year-long relationship meant nothing. 

Cas found himself in an all too familiar place. The barn where it all began. The very place he first stood face to face with Dean. It still looked the same. The various black warding sigils and chipped white paint were still there and immediately brought back every memory he shared with the elder Winchester. Finally, he let himself feel the emotions he’d been holding back. A choked sob left his lips as he sank down onto the cold, hard ground. 

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The sound of glass shattering made Sam’s ears perk up. He hurried into the Library armed and ready only to find Dean hunched over the table. His hands splayed out on the dark wooden surface, the remnants of broken glass joined his beer in a wet puddle on the floor. Slowly, he lowered his gun and walked cautiously towards him. “Dean? Hey, what’s going on? Where’s Cas?” Dean didn’t look at him, his breathing heavy as his shoulders started to shake. Now, this was a sight. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he saw his brother cry this hard. “Hey, whoa… Dean? C’mon man, talk to me.” 

Dean shook his head, his tears falling against the table’s veneer. “He’s gone, Sammy…” Sam didn’t miss how broken his brother sounded. He wasn’t naive to the fact that Cas was intimate with Dean. You’d have to be blind not to know how they felt for one another. Sighing, he set his gun on the table and moved so he could see his brother’s face. “Dean, you have to calm down. I’m sure he’s coming ba-” The sound of the chair being kicked over made Sam jump, his brother’s tear-filled eyes boring into his own. “WHAT DON’T YOU GET, SAM?! CAS. IS. GONE. NEVER COMING BACK! END OF STORY!” Dean’s chest heaved as he fished the keys to the Impala out of his pocket. It wasn’t until his footfalls echoed down the hallway that Sam reacted. His long legs walking quickly after him. “Dean! Wait, Dean, you can’t just leave while you’re upset like this!”

Dean didn’t react to his little brother’s plea, but that didn’t stop Sam from trying. He was hot on his heels as they crossed the threshold of the Bunker’s garage. The familiar creak of the Impala’s door broke the silence between them as Sam waited for a response. Dean fired up the engine and gripped the steering wheel, the tips of his knuckles turning white as he let out a long shaky sigh. “Don’t you get it, Sammy? I break everything I touch. I’m poison. Happiness wasn’t meant for me. This life ... there’s no chance at love when you’re a part of it. I push everyone away and I’ll be damned if I do something to ruin the last relationship I have. Let me go, Sammy … before I force you to leave me too.” 

Reluctantly Sam stepped back and watched Dean drive away. His brother’s words tearing at his heartstrings as the sleek black car disappeared out of sight. Part of what Dean said was true in a sense. Rarely did someone with their job description find happiness. He’d tried … time and time again he had tried. First with Jessica, the love of his life from his Stanford days. Then there was Amelia, the sweet veterinarian with a heart of gold. Eileen was another one that ultimately ended in tragedy. 

Of course, there were others that Sam had been romantically involved with, but more often than not his love interests shared something in common with one another. They weren’t hunters. They didn’t spend every day knowing what went bump in the night or lurked just beyond the shadows. That’s one thing that was different between him and Dean. Before they’d met Cas, his brother didn’t care much about settling down. One night stands were his specialty, something that Sam often envied. 

The moment Castiel made himself known to them, Dean’s whole demeanor changed. It was subtle at first. He started cutting back on the number of women he’d spend the night with. Then came the not so discreet glances. Cas was oblivious to them of course, but Sam wasn’t. He’d known his brother all his life so he was quite familiar with that look. Dean was attracted to the Angel. Once his stubborn brother got enough alcohol in his system he finally made his move. The rest was history. 

The silence in the garage became almost deafening as Sam’s thoughts continued to race through his head. They’d lost so much recently. Their Dad, their Mom, Jack, and Rowena. So many people they loved were gone. He’d be damned if Dean lost Cas too. 

He half jogged back into the library and picked up the broken pieces of his brother’s beer bottle. After cleaning up the wetness with a towel from the kitchen, he headed back to his room to get his phone. Hopefully, Cas still had the one they’d gave him. He held his breath as the shrill ringing filled his ears. “C’mon … C’mon” His persistent voice was the only sound in the room other than his boots pacing the floor. 

After the third ring, he finally heard the gruff sound of Cas’ voice. “H-Hello?” A wave of relief washed over Sam. “Cas? Hey, don’t hang up okay? Just… hear me out…” He waited, listening for any sort of acknowledgment from the Angel. When he didn’t get any, he took the opportunity and kept going. “First things first, where are you? Are you safe?” A cough and a low groan made his chest heavy with worry. “Cas?” 

“Sam, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m an Angel. I can take care of myself.” Sam frowned and stopped pacing, his hand finding purchase on his hip. “That’s not what I …” He sighed, not wanting to be the second person that argued with him today. “Look, Cas, I realize it’s not my place, but I know what you have with Dean is worth fighting for. I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with you. He’s just… he’s a little lost right now. In no way am I defending his actions because I don’t know what was said, but I will stand here and say that my brother loves you. He’s madly in love with you, Cas…” 

A shaky breath on the other end of the phone told Sam that he was still there. "I...I love him too, Sam. Like I've never loved anyone or anything before." Another ragged cough told Sam that Cas wasn’t being forthcoming with how bad his health really was and it worried him. Hell, shouldering pain and wounds was one of their specialties after all. “Cas, listen to me, okay? Everything that’s happened recently has taken its toll on all of us. I can’t speak for you or Dean, but having to … to” A shaky sigh left his lips as tears threatened to slip down his cheeks. Eventually, a few betrayed him and his vision became blurry as he forced the words out. “... kill Rowena wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.” He cleared the lump in his throat and swallowed thickly. “What I’m trying to say is we can get through this. We’ve saved the world so many times, and I’ll be damned if we let God’s little temper tantrum do us in.”

Cas wasn’t saying anything, but his occasional exhale told Sam he was still there. “Please, Cas. Just tell me where you are so I can come and get you.” Neither of them said anything for what felt like an eternity. Finally, relief washed over Sam when he heard the Angel respond. “The barn … I’m at the barn where it all began.” “I’ll be there as fast as I can, Cas! Just … stay there.” Sam hung up and began packing his duffel bag. 

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Dean welcomed the smooth burn of the whiskey in his glass as he knocked it back. Maybe if he drank enough he’d be able to forget those sad blue eyes and how he was the cause of said emotion. The bartender eyed him curiously but filled his glass again nevertheless. “Relationship problems?” Dean downed the golden brown liquid in two gulps before sliding the cup back. “With all due respect, it’s really none of your business. Now, if you’d be so kind, I’d like to drink until I’m numb. In fact, just go ahead and leave the bottle.” After tossing a few twenties and sporting a stern look, the man seemed to get the message. Even if Dean didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, it was better than sharing them with some stranger just to be judged. He took another sip and groaned happily. Yep, being alone was much better. 

The vibration of his phone startled him out of his thoughts once again. “Now, what?” He grumbled. Seeing his brother’s name lit up on the screen made him roll his eyes, but he swiped to answer anyway. “Dammit, Sammy. I’ve been gone for a few hours what could you possibly…” He was cut off by the frantic edge in Sam’s voice. “Dean! It’s… It’s Cas… he… he told me he was at the barn where you met. I went to get him a-and now he… he won’t wake up.” 

Dean felt his blood run cold. 

He pushed the stool away from the counter and all but ran back to the Impala. “What do you mean he won’t wake up?!” Baby’s tires spun as Dean pulled back onto the main road toward the Bunker. “I-I-I don’t know, Dean… He’s breathing, but he seems to be in some sort of celestial coma? When I talked to him on the phone, he kept coughing and wheezing. I don’t know what to do. Normally, I’d call Rowena, but… she’s…” Dean cut his brother off before he could finish, his knuckles white on the steering wheel for the second time that day. “Sammy, listen to me. Just get back to the Bunker as fast as you can. I’ll meet you there, and we will figure this out … the Winchester way.” He ended the call and tossed his phone on the seat next to him, his boot pushing the gas pedal all the way to the floor. 

The moment Sam arrived with Cas, Dean was there to help. They carried him to the hospital wing in the Bunker and carefully laid him on the cot. Dean couldn’t help but notice how sickly his angel looked. He’d lost weight, his skin was pale and hot to the touch, and his lips were chapped more than they normally were. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he looked at his brother with defeat. “Sammy… I.. I can’t lose him. I was so stupid… so fucking stupid…” His shoulders shook violently the moment he let his emotions take over. 

Sam was determined to make things better again. Not just for his brother, but for the sole fact that he refused to let anyone else they cared for die. “Keep an eye on him, Dean. I’ll hit the books and make some phone calls. You should stay here just in case he wakes up.” All Dean could do was nod and watch as Sam walked away. He turned his gaze back to Cas, his fingertips reaching up to gently caress his cheek. He was afraid to do much else. 

Eventually, Dean’s eyes grew heavy as the adrenaline wore off from earlier. Leaving Cas was out of the question, so he did the only thing he could think of and gently curled up on the mattress beside him. He slung his arm protectively over the angel’s torso and carefully laid his head against his chest. He couldn’t help the memories of their first night together flooding his mind. How they listened to music in Baby and drove out in the country to look at the stars. A tear slid down his cheek as he began to softly sing their song, the one that Cas insisted they listen to on repeat the whole trip home. 

I can hear her heartbeat for a thousand miles

And the heaven's open every time she smiles

And when I come to her that's where I belong

Yet I'm running to her like a river's song

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down

Yeah when I come to her when the sun goes down

Take away my trouble, take away my grief

Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

Yes I need her in the daytime 

Yes I need her in the night 

Yes I want to throw my arms around her

Kiss and hug her, kiss and hug her tight

Yeah when I'm returning from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day

Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me whole

Yes it makes me mellow down into my soul

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

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The last thing Castiel remembered was seeing Sam’s concerned face. Then there was only darkness. He wasn’t dead, no, this was something different. A coma maybe? He couldn’t open his eyes or move, but he was able to hear everything going on around him. Angels normally don’t go through things like this, but if their bodies get too worn down then they go into somewhat of a protective mode. He figured this is what happened to him when he used the last of his strength to teleport himself to the barn. His celestial powers needed to replenish. 

He hated hearing how worried Sam and Dean were. He especially hated how much Dean blamed himself. He’d spent so much time showing his boyfriend how much good he brought to the world, and now he felt like Dean was closing himself off again. He’d only wanted to take some of the stress from Dean. That’s why he chose to kill Belphegor instead of letting him do more damage. Cas knew Dean didn’t mean to hurt him and he longed to tell him how sorry he was. 

It became a waiting game, letting his vessel reenergize itself. There was no telling how long it would take, but Castiel took comfort in knowing that the man he loved was snuggled into his side. If only he could have comforted Dean and wiped his tears. The sound of the elder Winchester’s voice filled the small room, and it was then that he realized Dean was singing to him. Cas’ heart both soared and broke at the same time by the emotion in his voice as the lyrics flowed freely from memory. The last thing he heard before Dean fell asleep was him saying how sorry he was and how much he loved him. 

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Dean groaned and tightened his grip around Castiel. What time was it? Had Sam found anything? Several questions ran through his mind as he prepared to open his eyes. Before he could, he felt a hand smooth down his back. His heart skipped a beat as he sat up. Beautiful blue eyes gazed into his own, and Dean looked at him like it was the first time he saw him all over again. “Cas?! Cas! Oh, I’m so happy you’re okay. I’m sorry for the things I said to you before. I was so stupid and I know you were just trying t-” His rambling was cut off as Cas smashed his lips against his. Their tongues danced together and when Cas finally pulled away he was panting as hard as Dean was. 

“Dean, you have nothing to be sorry for. I forgave you the moment it happened, and there’s nothing you could do to make me love you any less. You will always be perfect in my eyes. Forever the Righteous Man I saved and rebuilt all those years ago. I love you.” Dean placed another emotional kiss to Cas’ lips, pouring all his love and need into it. Never in his life did he think he’d be able to settle down with anyone. Being a hunter of the supernatural meant a short life span more often than not. He was conditioned to not get too attached to anyone, but with Cas, he couldn’t help himself. This was different. Cas was different, and without the Angel, in his life, he’d be incomplete. 

The need to feel Castiel’s touch nearly took his breath away. No words were spoken as they rid each other of their clothes. Cas flipped them over so he was hovering above Dean, his blue eyes glowing with power. Dean felt his cock swell in anticipation, his breathing becoming more ragged by the second. “Cas, please…” 

Castiel began to trail kisses along his jaw, nipping at the skin now and again. The moment he began sucking at Dean’s pulse point he could feel just how much he needed him. His cock was pinned between Cas’, the tip weeping beads of precum. “Look at you, Dean. You’re a fucked out mess and I’ve barely touched you.” Dean whined shamelessly at his words, his hand reaching between their bodies to slowly stroke Cas’ length. “Mmmm, Dean… Gonna make you feel so good.” Cas brought two of his fingers up to Dean’s lips, pushing them into his mouth. “Suck.” 

Dean obliged, swirling his tongue skillfully around his digits. Cas nearly came at the sight below him. The way the elder Winchester fluttered his eyes shut the moment his perfect lips closed around them, his soft moans as his slick tongue flicked over his fingertips, and the constellation of freckles littered over his skin. Reluctantly, Cas pulled them free and pressed one against Dean’s entrance. “Relax for me.” It wasn’t a command, but Dean knew it would do him well to obey. The first few moments were always painful, but the pleasure Cas promised was better than anything he’d ever felt. 

“C-Cas… I… I need you. Please… don’t make me wait… F-Fuck!” Cas knew he’d found Dean’s prostate just from the sound of Dean’s plea. His fingers grazed the bundle of nerves making the man beneath him shiver. “As much as I’d love to fuck you into this mattress, Dean, I very much like hearing you beg.” 

Dean whimpered as Cas continued to slowly fuck him open with his fingers, his hands fisting the thin sheet under him. “Unngh! P-Please fuck me… need you inside me so bad.” Cas smirked and peppered kisses along Dean’s chest. “I know you can do better than that, Dean. I’ve seen you do it.” 

Dean arched his back and cried out, his mouth opening in a perfect “o” shape. “I need it! Oh, fuck I n-need it, Cas! Need you to fuck me until I can’t think anymore… Please…. Oh, fuck! Please. Please. Please…” Finally, Cas gave in. His cock replacing his fingers as he slowly thrust inside Dean to the hilt. Both cried out in unison, their bodies thrumming with arousal. 

Cas leaned down to kiss Dean softly before starting a steady pace. It was a wonder the poorly built cot didn’t break beneath them. Dean’s cries filled the small room as Cas fucked into him relentlessly. “Oh, fu-... C-Cas! Oh, Cas! R-Right there!” They’d done this enough that Cas knew Dean was close. The way his body shook, how desperate he sounded when he moaned, and how he clenched around him. He’d normally draw this out, take his time with his hunter, but this was something they both needed. 

Cas began to stroke Dean’s thick cock in time with his thrusts, his angelic grace causing the lightbulbs above them to burst with all the energy in the room. Both of them fell over the edge together, Dean’s cries swallowed by Cas’ kiss. 

Once they came down from their high, Cas carefully pulled out of Dean and pulled him close. “Dean, you complete me. From the moment my father told me to rescue you from Hell, I knew my life would change forever.” Dean kissed Cas sweetly and nuzzled into his neck. “I love you, Cas. M’heart s’yours.” 

Sometime later, Sam came home from the library and noticed how quiet the Bunker was. He made his way to the hospital room and snorted to himself at the broken glass on the floor. Glancing at the cot, he smiled widely at the sight of his brother and Cas asleep in each other’s arms. 

“Thank God.” He breathed.

Forever Tags: @desiree-0816​

[momo-de-avis]

There is a saying in Portugal---but bear with me before I tell you what it is. There’s a collective consciousness about ‘popular knowledge’. Everyone knows the people---the rural, the uneducated, the non-city dwellers, what have you---know best. It’s them who teach you that you use white wine to take a red wine stain out of the table cloth. It’s them who make benzeduras with olive oil to heal you of all evil. It’s them who know just the right tea to heal your every malady. It’s them who recite the mnemonics you’ve known since you were a kid that become life-savers as an adult. Knock on wood three times. Never open an umbrella inside the house. Putting a shirt on backwards brings good fortune. A dog who barks doesn’t bite. A spider in the home means money. Seagulls on land, storm at sea. Use a broom to sweep the feet of an unmarried person, they’ll never marry. Get rid of unwanted guests by turning a stool upside down behind a closed door. Rural knowledge.

All of these have a background---they’re superstitions in a country with a strong pagan heritage. Most of these exist side-by-side with catholicism, they’re not really frowned upon---hell, you’ll hear an old lady say she knows better than the local priest. They are just there. They have been passed down for generations and held close to heart. Most of these exist in sayings, popular singings people chant, just that.

But there’s one particular saying that has stuck with me because it exists in spite of something really wicked. ‘Never stick a spoon between a husband a wife’ (it’s silly because it’s supposed to rhyme). It means you should never---no matter what---interfere with a husband and wife fighting. I suppose in principle, it sounds about right. Not in praxis.

When Conta-me Como Foi was on---a show about a family living back in the dictatorship---one of the episodes was about domestic violence. The family kept hearing the woman screaming while the man beat her so loudly they could hear his hand smack against her head, cutlery clanking against the floor while a glass, or a dish, or the whole dining set given by one of the in-laws as a wedding present, shattered. Something knocked over, a table or a cabinet. And those wailings in the background, of a woman begging to stop, the man’s roars, imposing: shut up, bitch. The family ignored. The kid was terrified. To ease his spirit, the mother said: never stick a spoon between a husband and a wife. 

My mom was watching and said: I remember that being common, everyone had a neighbour whose wife lived through hell. We all heard women crying, weeping, begging to be saved, and no one did a thing---because you never stick a spoon between a husband and a wife. She shook her head. I remembered the tons of books she read about muslim women being oppressed with hijabs, niqabs and burqas, the tone of disgust on her face when she explained the story of one poor woman who was stoned in public because she put her hand on her brother’s knee. My mother always tried to be a feminist, but in the end, she’s very western.

A few years later, we were watching the news---her, me and my uncle. Domestic violence had increased in the past few years. With Troika and the financial crisis, the number of mothers committing suicide-homicide---suffocating to death inside their cars with their children because they couldn’t bear to witness them go hungry---had gone up. But so did domestic violence. The victims: overwhelmingly women, and the children: unreported. The subject was severe: it demanded to be talked about in public, urgently.

My mother looked at my uncle. “I don’t remember this ever existing back in our days.”

I immediately went pale. I remembered the day she agreed with that domestic violence episode of the TV show, the piles of books about oppressed muslim women, the anger on her face when she told the story of widows in India being forced to beg because they were barred from working. Her very own story ceased to exist. The things she had witnessed, that had been such a common territory for every portuguese person of her time, erased.

I said: “You’re joking, right?”

My uncle added gasoline to the fire: “You didn’t hear about this.”

I was already breaking off. “Because it was a dictatorship. You had censorship torturing people. You told me you were scared to death of reading a Gorky book. You work with lawyers every single day of your life, you know the constitution acknowledged women as objects. You had to ask your dad permission to drive, otherwise it was illegal. As it was illegal to talk about it. What are you talking about? Of course, you didn’t hear about it---and however uncomfortable it is for you to hear about it at the dinner table, I’m glad I at least live in a world where it is on the news and I am allowed to publically discuss it.”

More years down the line. I’m in my mom’s living room when I hear screaming outside. I lived in a street where often drunk people walked past to get home, so I didn’t mind---until I heard a child cry. And a woman’s voice. And a man, angry. ‘Stop,’ she was saying. ‘Please, not in front of the kid’. I went outside, to the balcony, but couldn’t see very well. Then, I heard a slap. It just echoed across the roundabout and reverberated into my goddamn brain---I had absolutely no doubt about what I was witnessing. I looked down and saw two women holding a child, a man---drunk---throwing kicks and punches. I looked up: the younger people in the building were peering out their windows, phone in hand, calling the cops. One of them screamed: hey, you’re such a man why won’t you come here and beat me, you piece of shit? The man ignored him. I grabbed my phone, just when my mother appeared next to me.

She looked down, quiet as a mouse. Whenever there was a fight in the building, she never said a word. Often, she’ll talk about someone who is not there in whispers, because she’s afraid someone will hear. Secrecy was a big part of one’s education back in the dictatorship. She told me several times one of her father’s greatest lessons: never talk about politics inside the house, you never know who’s listening. There was a snitch living in the next building. She said he used to sit for hours on the balcony, watching. Occasionally, someone in the city disappeared---reappeared then completely torn, broken. Everyone knew they went to Caxias, got tortured because the snitch gave them away. It wasn’t hard, after all---this is a communist city.

Every time there was loud screaming, my mother’s immediate reaction was to shut off the sound of the TV and perk her chin up to listen carefully. My downstairs neighbours made her do that a lot. The upstairs neighbours---all of them---as well. She never intervened. Her second reaction was---after everything had quieted down---to pick up the phone, call my godmother (who lived one floor below) and ask: did you just hear that? And then they would discuss. When my godmother wouldn’t answer, she’d ask me---I always brushed it off, pretended I didn’t hear. I hate prying into other people’s businesses, and could tell the fight was just a fight. But they would never interfere: that meant taking sides, listening to someone. This way, they could speculate all they wanted without really having to admit someone was in the wrong. This way, the husband and the wife were both crazy.

So when we both witnessed a woman and her child being physically assaulted by the kid’s father in public, her immediate reaction was to draw back. “Close the window,” she said. “They might see you.” And she disappeared back into her room.

Never stick a spoon between a husband a wife.

I can guarantee you there isn’t a single person in this country that does not know one woman who has been physically abused. We all had grandmothers, mothers, great-grandmothers. My friend L’s grandmother was forced to give birth to all her children completely alone because her husband wouldn’t let anyone look at his wife’s vagina. I know women who are in long, excruciating judicial battles against their aggressors, while their children are forced by court to live with the man they witnessed beat their mother on the ground. I’ve heard women tell me ‘my grandfather beat my grandmother to death’. I know people whose grandmothers and grand-aunts had 20 children because their husbands had their way with them, and there was no possible way for them to prevent that from happening. I’ve heard stories spoken so sweetly it took me years to realize it was abuse. ‘He beat me, but he was a good man’ and ‘he only slapped me once’ is a common thing to say.

That night, I called the cops---a bit late, too. The caller told me I was about the fifth one to make the call, which gave me a breath of relief. At least, I saw the guy being hauled into the back of a police van, screaming ‘I’ve been in jail before’ (and you’ll be again, said the cop---a woman, too). My mother went back to her room, didn’t think about it again. That same room was stacked with books about non-western women being oppressed by their societies, the same she preaches on about in that gloriously ironic western way. She still thinks it’s so funny that my grandfather once ran out of shirts to wear because there was not a single woman nearby to wash them for him.

This thing, this saying---never stick a spoon between a husband and a wife---it’s so ingrained into our brains even the most liberal woman (like my ever-growing-feminist mother) acknowledge it as law. In theory, the contrary works---you should really see the way she talks about oppressed women everywhere else in the world. But the moment it happens before our eyes, we have to snap them shut. 

Every single one of us knows a case of a girl who was in an abusive relationship. A guy who stalked. A dude who gaslighted her into insanity. A guy who showed up unannounced at her doorstep, who followed her everywhere after they broke up, who controlled her social media. At one point, we accepted it, because you never stick a spoon between a husband and a wife. I’m not going to pretend I was very avant-garde in this matter: I wasn’t. I was taught to shut up whenever I witnessed abuse. I was taught to swallow cause life is just that way. So there’s this taboo that abuse doesn’t belong in the public space---it belongs in the home, in the secrecy that my mother was brought up with---and consequentially taught me---that allows for a man to beat his wife to death.

Because you don’t challenge, you avoid. My brother still thinks his friend was stupid for geing back to his wife because he quit a high-paying job, and she got fat. My sister-in-law goes berserk at the sight of her son in pink. My mother wasted her every effort into forcing me to be a girly-girl: cleaning products for toys, loads of baby-dolls, pushing me into maternity. You never know---you have to avoid, you have to prevent. But you never speak about, never make it public. It’s impolite to say those things in public.

Over the past few years, our country has reached the highest numbers of women killed by their husbands in many decades. The judicial system protects the abuser. One guy just recently took the electronic bracelet off a guy’s ankle after he beat his wife until she became deaf. The same guy, a while back, absolved a woman’s husband and lover from beating her to unconsciousness together by quoting the bible to justify how much the man’s dignity had been affected by her cheating.

I live in a country where the judicial system, the men in charge---white, old, the ones who ruled the country when my mother had to ask permission to drive---consider us toys to garnish the men. We exist in a script, inside and outside our bodies. I remember the case of a 50-something-year-old woman who had invasive surgery to her vagina and was given a last minute change she didn’t consent to. As a result, she has to wear diapers and is in constant excruciating pain. The doctors did that because ‘at 50, a woman’s sex life is non-existent’. The court ruled in the doctor’s favour. She got financial compensation---not nearly enough for a few month’s rent. I am thirty---I suppose I have twenty years to enjoy my sex life, then. Because the men in charge have dictated the next line in my womanly script: I can’t fuck. So they can just... ravage me on a surgical table if they wish. No court will ever stand up for me---as they didn’t in the past.

I have no brilliant conclusion to this. In fact, I have no conclusion at all. Tonight I was faced with yet another piece of horrific news: a woman’s head was found inside a plastic bag. People are making fun of it on Facebook, joke after joke: haha, she lost her head! Who ate the rest of the body? Women are gonna lose their head with this one!

And I am just overwhelmingly tired. I acknowledge that I live in a backwards country that refuses to grow out of its own catholic past, imposed by 50 years of fascism we just cannot, no matter what, let go of. I am just completely worn out by the women on TV like my mother, who think they’re so avant-garde by saying a niqab is oppressive, but who will slam their window shut when they hear a woman screaming for help. I am tired of people who tell me this saying I was brought up with, smothered by the need for secrecy, that just strengthens every abuser in their own home and ruins the lives of women and children everywhere you have to live with bruises and scars inside and out: never stick a spoon between a husband and a wife. Because though right now I am in a loving relationship with a wonderful man who witnessed this same domestic abuse and will stand up himself---however necessary---in the face of it, me, as a woman---then a girl---there was a time in my life when I couldn’t help but think: it’s going to happen to me, because it happens to everyone.

Sorry for the long post.

[lenaisanerd]

swing a little further

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It's really hot. The gang goes to the park. It rains. (Alternatively: Izzy stares at Clary for 3400 words.)

This was supposed to be shorter, but it turned into something that is not that short while I wrote it. This is my first published fanfic on Tumblr (exciting). Please reblog or like if you enjoy it!

A huge thank you to my friends and editors @disaster-lesbiab​ , @raisehades​ , and @beesarekind​ , who made this fic possible (and who have been very patiently listening to me ramble on about Shadowhunters for months. Thanks.).

One week since the Institute’s AC system had given out. Turns out not even angelic power can withstand a New York heatwave, and with temperatures outside steadily climbing over 30 degrees, the heat had started seeping through every crack and crevice into the normally cool building. The humidity exacerbated the effects of the hot weather, and in Isabelle’s opinion it was a miracle no one had collapsed from a heat stroke yet.

 According to the weather report a massive thunderstorm was due any day now, but  what did mundanes know. It certainly hadn’t rained any of the previous four days when they had promised the exact same thing. Izzy’s hope and patience were wearing thin.

 There were precisely three things that gave her the strength to drag herself out of bed every morning: One, by now being in her room with its huge portion of stained glass window was even more unbearable than hiding from the sun in the armory. Izzy had even tried sitting in the dungeons to do her paperwork, because being underground should be at least marginally cooler. But apparently sitting on the floor leaning against a wall while looking at a tablet in your lap for 10 hours at a time can really fuck up your back.

 Two, the Institute was caught up in approximately one fuckton of work. NYC had picked the worst three weeks of the past year for a demon infestation in the Hudson. Getting rid of the little bastards, clean-up of the river, and convincing mundane victims and the police it was just a really violent species of manatee had kept every available Shadowhunter (and quite a few warlocks) busy. And when your brother is Head of the Institute, and also not afraid to barge into your room to kick you out of bed, sleeping late is not an option, even if Izzy was tempted a few times to quit sentient existence and melt into her mattress.

 Three, even though the heatwave left everyone sweaty, tired, and often sunburnt, Clary was a literal angel all the same. Isabelle had started mentally drawing constellations between the hundreds of freckles that had popped up on Clary’s face and shoulders because of her time spent in the sun on missions.

 She had given up on all black clothing about two days into the heatwave and was now wearing a different, slightly ratty and paint-splattered t-shirt every day, which, Izzy had to admit, suited Clary even better than black leather or skin-tight party dresses.  And although a sunburn was starting to colour her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, Izzy could still see Clary’s adorable blush whenever she complimented Isabelle. Seeing the redhead’s brilliant smile every morning as soon as she spotted Izzy in the op center or training room was truly the only thing that made the heat bearable.

“...and Luke said he’s going to take care of the press stuff, he knows a guy at the Times. We’re still going with the murderous manatee story, right? Izzy? Did you hear me?”

 Clary’s question ripped Izzy out of her dazed daydream, where she had been busy appreciating a single frizzy strand of hair that had found its way out of the ponytail Clary had pulled her red curls into.

 Izzy quickly took a sip of her water bottle on the table in front of her to stall while searching for an answer in the depths of her mind. She should really pick better moments to drool over Clary than in the middle of being briefed by Clary. Then again, she was. really. tired. 10 hours of work, fixing weapons, debriefing teams back from missions, chasing after reports from junior Hunters. It was high time for a break.

“Yes, of course, the manatee thing. Let’s do that.”

 Clary shook her head. “I still can’t believe the shit Shadowhunters get Mundanes to believe. You would think after a while someone would pick up on the weirdness.”

 “You didn’t.”

“Touché, Lightwood.”

 Isabelle grinned, Clary smiled back. Maybe a little longer than was justified, given Izzy’s weak attempt at banter. Not that Izzy minded.

 A distant, sustained honk cut through the silence between them. At the same moment both their phones buzzed. Clary was the first to get hers out. She checked the message and frowned.

 “A text from Simon: ‘Come outside’?”

Izzy raised an eyebrow in surprise.

 “Hey Iz. You get a text too?”

 Alec was coming down the stairs and striding quickly towards her on long legs. He looked worn out, dark circles under his hazel eyes. Izzy was fairly certain that he had not left the Institute in at least two days.

 She nodded and held up her phone.

 “Any idea what it means?” she asked.

 “Nope. Better go obey his command though, or someone else will go and strangle him to get him to stop honking.”

 Now the connection between the sound and the message clicked into place in Izzy’s mind. The honking had started up again, a long honk followed by several short, irregular bursts. It must have been coming from just outside the doors of the Institute. Walking towards the exit it grew louder. Clary pushed open the door.

 Across the way from the steps a painted van was parked under a tall plane tree, its owner stood in the open driver side door to play out a rhythm on the horn. Simon waved when he saw them.

 Maia was sitting on the roof, leaning back while her legs dangled over the side. Leaning against the hood of the car, Magnus had taken off his vest to sling it over his shoulder, looking for all the world like a supermodel with his sunglasses, rolled up trouser cuffs and a shirt that was unbuttoned almost down to his bellybutton.

 Izzy heard her brother draw in a sharp breath, before he rushed down the steps to greet his boyfriend with a kiss. Clary and Izzy followed more slowly.

 “What are you guys doing here?” Clary said as she hugged Simon in greeting. “I thought you wanted to get out of the city, go to the beach?”

 Izzy tugged playfully at Maia’s ankle and squinted up at her. The sunlight streaming through the foliage made her coiled hair shine like a ring of gold.

 Maia grinned and sighed. “We had planned that, yes. But Thor over here is convinced he can predict the weather--”

 “Hey, all I’m saying is that my hair is standing on end today, which normally happens when a storm is incoming, and a thunderstorm is not the ideal condition for swimming--”

 “The weather report has been talking about rain for like a week now, it still hasn’t happened. You’re just afraid of the ocean!”

 Simon gasped in outrage, though Izzy could see his eyes twinkle slightly.

 “I am not! And how dare you suggest I cannot predict the weather. I’ll have you know that my predictions saved Clary and me from getting drenched during the Great Sports Day Downpour of 2014.”

 “Simon, I’m pretty sure you just didn’t want to do the three-legged race with me.” Clary was chuckling. “And I remember that we got wet anyways when you tripped and we fell into that huge puddle.”

 “No, I remember that you tripped and I only fell in because our legs were still tied together!”

 They all burst into a fit of giggles at the mental image. Even Magnus and Alec looked over grinning from where they were still leaning against the hood of the van, a casual embrace tangling their arms and legs with as much body contact as the heat would allow.

 Izzy tried to remember the last time the two of them had seen each other. Had it been a week? Two? Magnus must have been kept busy as well. Now it seemed like they had been standing like this for hours, their bodies slotting together with comfortable familiarity. Isabelle let her eyes wander over to Clary next to her. Was it stupid to hope their limbs would fit together in the same way?

 “But even if we could go to the beach, which we absolutely can’t, because of the storm, what would we do without our favourite demon-hunting buddies?” Simon added, and then, stage whispering while leaning close to Izzy, “we were starting to think you guys had fused with your desks, or that you had moved to Canada without telling us.”

 “Seriously, you had us worried. When did you last have a day off, or at least take a break?” Maia asked.

 Izzy’s shoulders slumped. “Don’t ask, I don’t think I could tell you.”

 “Well then, it’s good that we’re here to enforce some mandatory downtime,” Simon said while rummaging around in the back of the van. He finally emerged holding two plastic bags and a canvas tote.

 “Maia and I picked up the essentials of relaxation on the drive here. Books,” he turned the canvas bag around so they could see the New York Public Library logo on the front ,“and candy. It’s all Fourth of July themed though. There was a sale,” he added apologetically, as if he wasn’t holding the most beautiful things Izzy had seen in days.

 “We appreciate the gesture, but there’s still so much to do, all the paperwork for the cleanup,” Alec chimed in, but Izzy knew him well enough to recognize his opposition as rather half-hearted.

 She met Clary’s eyes and they both put on their best pleading face. Simon and Maia had witnessed these battles of will a few times before, so they reserved themselves to keeping quiet and glancing between Alec and his opponents.

 Alec tried to seek support with Magnus and looked at him instead. Like Magnus was gonna tell his overworked boyfriend to go back inside for second helpings, Izzy thought, especially when he was right here ready to distract Alec. Her brother must have been kidding himself.

 After about five seconds, she could see his resolve crumble like a dry sand wall.

 “Okay, you know what, you’re right. Fuck this, let’s get out of here. Hey Underhill,” he called to the Shadowhunter standing just inside the entryway of the Institute, who made his way slightly reluctantly out of the shade and over to the van, “you’re in charge until I get back. Tell everyone to finish what absolutely needs doing today, and then to take the rest of the day off.”

 Underhill gave a short nod and smiled. His eyes lingered on Magnus and Alec for a split second, still standing with their arms around each other, before he turned to leave.

 They left the van parked in front of the Institute and set off on foot. After a half hour of strolling at a leisurely pace they reached Rockefeller Park and settled under a tree in view of the river. The afternoon sun shone brightly and with an intense glare, and only a few people were sitting on the grass, some under umbrellas to provide shade.

 Most inhabitants of the city seemed to have traded the sultry climate outside for air-conditioned offices, apartments, or movie theaters. Even in the middle of Manhattan the world moved slowly and quietly. The traffic and buzz of downtown were miles away, a vague hum in the distance. Time was sticky and thick like honey.

 Izzy looked up from her copy of Lavinia. She was feeling sleepy and content, her stomach full of sweets, her sneakers lying next to her with her feet naked on the grass. She took in the scene in front of her:

 Magnus was sitting against the tree trunk to her left, her brother’s head in his lap. The warlock had one hand in Alec’s hair, the other held Eros the Bittersweet from which he was reading in a soft voice. Occasionally Alec would open his mouth to make an observation or a joke, and Magnus would look down at him and laugh.

 A few meters away Maia had abandoned her reading to try and catch the Skittles Clary was throwing into Maia’s mouth. Simon had also put his copy of Kavalier and Clay aside to watch and to distract both of them by plucking out single blades of grass and pitching them at them with pinpoint accuracy like tiny spears.

 Finally Maia had enough and sprang like a fox on the hunt to tackle her boyfriend. After rolling over on the ground once or twice, Maia ended up on top, straddling Simon’s chest and pinning him down. She proceeded to rip out a handful of grass and sprinkle it on Simon, while he laughed and sputtered, trying to blow the grass away from his face.

 Clary watched from her Skittle throwing spot, The Wicked + The Divine open on one of her crossed legs. Leaf-filtered sunlight dappled her skin, a smile crinkled the corners of her eyes.

 Izzy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through her nose. The air carried the smells of sunscreen, dry grass, and the river. She had the sudden thought how strange and lucky it was that she was here, lying under a tree with her favourite people in the whole world, how somehow they had all made here. Sometimes it seemed like the world was about to end every other week, and they couldn’t go two months without at least one of them almost dying. But it wasn’t, and they hadn’t.

 “Izzy, everything okay?” Clary had sat down next to her. There were faint grass-stains on her grey jeans.

 “You know, before I met you, Alec, Jace and I didn’t do this sort of thing.”

Izzy gestured to their surroundings.

 “Sitting in some park, during the day, just doing nothing. Sure, we had free time sometimes. Mostly after missions, late at night, when we were so keyed up we just couldn’t go home to bed. We’d get some food, or go to a party, or walk through the city for hours just exploring until the sun went up.“

 “And we had fun. But it was always just a distraction, something to kill time, until the next mission or training session, until we had to go back to the Institute or our parents would get mad. The stuff we do with you or Simon or Maia is…” she smiled, “nice. Different. But nice. Is this what being mundane is like? Nothing to do, nowhere to be but here?”

 Clary had been watching Izzy’s face attentively, but now she was looking out at the park, the people walking by or lying on the grass.

 “Simon and I used to do this stuff all the time. Sometimes I used to think we were just wasting time, but we really had some of our best weekends when we were just off doing nothing. I just didn’t know it at the time.”

 “Do you miss, you know. Your old life? Being mundane?”

Clary was quiet for a moment.

 “I do, yeah. Even now. I’ll be walking down some street in my old neighbourhood, and it just hits me, the memories. I miss it so much sometimes it physically hurts. And I think about the girl I was a year ago, and she seems like a stranger. A totally different person.”

 “But,” she said and her eyes met Izzy’s, “I also think about all the things I’ve seen, everything I’ve learnt. The people I’ve met.” She smiled. “If I was still living my old life, I never would have met you.”

 “That, Clary Fairchild, would have been a tragedy.” Izzy grinned.

 “Exactly.”

 A loud rumbling sounded in the mid-distance. Izzy just managed to tear herself away from Clary’s gaze to look at the horizon. Dark clouds were gathering and moving quickly towards the city, blown by high-altitude winds, although the air on the ground remained hot and still. The air was heavy with static and the humidity clung to her skin. The surface of the Hudson rippled with a few tiny raindrops.

 “Ha! What did I tell you?” Simon’s grin was triumphant and infectious. He turned to Maia.  “And you doubted me.”

 Maia obviously wasn’t ready to give in. “This is nothing. I’m sure it’ll pass and we’ll be fine under the tr--”

 The rain came down hard. They had just enough time to pack up their things and put on their shoes before the leafy canopy above them gave in to unload large drops on their heads. It became clear in minutes that staying under the tree wasn’t going to provide much cover.

 Simon was the first to dash out into the pouring rain, speeding faster than Izzy’s eyes could follow. When he stopped to wait for the others however the rain caught up with him. He yelped and tried to use his jacket as a makeshift umbrella, which was pointless as any and all clothing was soaked through in seconds.

 Maia followed, and immediately after her Magnus and Alec, who were jogging leisurely across the lawn under a small shield Magnus maintained with one hand held over their heads. The faint blue glow was almost invisible, but the rivers of rainwater running off it were not, and Izzy hoped quietly that the few mundanes who remained in the park were too busy getting drenched to notice.

 “Our turn.”

 Izzy’s attention snapped back to Clary. She had stepped out from under the meager protection of the tree canopy into the rain and was tilting her head back to let the raindrops hit her face. Then she turned back to look at Izzy, smiling, red hair darkened by the rain, a few wet strands clinging to her face.

 Clary reached out and took Izzy’s hand. There was a sensation, like a spark of static, but somehow more than physical. Izzy was almost ready to chalk it up to the thunderstorm, all the electricity in the air, or her imagination, when she looked up at Clary.

 Her green eyes were wide and tiny rain droplets caught on her lashes. She had felt it too. For a moment they both stood motionless, breaths held, hands clasped.

 Then the moment passed, and Clary whipped around to drag Izzy into the rain and towards their friends. Hand in hand they ran across the flooded lawn, water splashing up around their ankles with every step. A flash of lightning followed closely by booming thunder accompanied them.

 The others stood under Magnus’ shield, which was now several meters in diameter. Alec was grinning at Izzy when she skidded to a stop next to him. His eyes wandered down to her hand in Clary’s.

 “Took you two slowpokes long enough to get here.”

Izzy raised one perfect eyebrow and smiled mockingly.

 “Sounds like a challenge. Race you to the Institute?”

 Alec’s eyes narrowed, obviously incentivized. He shot Magnus a quick glance. The warlock smiled.

 “Oh, go on Alexander, I couldn’t deprive you. Besides,” his eyes flashed golden for a split second, “I’m sure I can keep up.”

 In the blink of an eye, Alec had given Magnus a kiss on the cheek and had dashed off. Izzy rolled her eyes and followed. As if he could shake her with tricks like that.

Among shrieks, shouts and laughter the group ran through the pouring rain. By the time they reached the Institute they were all out of breath and soaked to the bone.

 By some sort of miracle (and through the magic of plastic bags) the books had managed to stay dry, and Simon stashed them safely in the van before he and Maia made their goodbyes and disappeared in the vehicle as well in search of towels.

 Magnus, having had quite enough of being wet, opened a portal to his apartment. He practically had to drag Alec, who was still arguing with his little sister about who had really won the race, through. Izzy and Clary were left alone on the steps of the Institute.

 The storm had cooled off the air noticeably, and the weird pressure had lifted. Everything felt suddenly lighter, the constant noise of the rain and the thunder drowning out the hum of the city until Izzy barely noticed it.

 Standing in the warm rain, drops hitting her shoulders and face until rivulets formed on her skin, the world faded out until only Clary remained, her eyes, her laughter, her hand holding tight.  Izzy tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. She smiled.

[teacherintransition]

One Weekend, Vincent Van Gogh and Matthew McConaughey… Opposite Sides of The Same Coin

*photo courtesy of NPR.org

“Alright, alright, alright…” McConaughey

I’ve written in several articles regarding retirement, change of life, transitioning etc. etc. and I’ve gone to pains to point out that everyone’s path will look different. Short of being a billionaire where the sky’s the limit; pursuing your individual path … well, it ain’t easy. This weekend I was offered two radically different points of view of attaining self fulfillment… and of being unable to do so.

Kim and I had a fantastic weekend that included a Scottish Highlands Festival, visiting the grandson and hijo primero, spending the night with hijo segundo at his new home and a surprise gift from my wife with tickets to the Van Gogh Immersion Experience. We drove the “hell” out of our Chrysler sedan going from Sherman, Tx to Prosper to Madisonville to Houston and to Conroe. No question my wife knew that the driving would be a small price to pay for me to spend such deeply powerful, personal moments with Vincent. Yes, I call him Vincent… how else would soulmates address each other but with familiarity? Vincent is my soulmate … which is a term that I believe isn’t restricted to romance and relationships… depending on which life your living at that moment. Yes, you heard me right, I am indeed one of those weirdos. Some Buddhist, some Christian, some indigenous, some Celtic…New Age, transcendentalist, blah, blah, blah. Universalists would be the best term but I HATE labels. I believe this immortal existence is made up of many lives, in many times, on many planes of existence all designed to enlighten our consciousness with each living. Soulmates are people of the same spirit, loves, struggles and states of mind who are linked. Sometimes it could be husband and wife; sometimes circumstances keep you from meeting; sometimes you’re separated by time; sometimes it’s a best friend or sibling; but in the framework of an eternal quest to get things right… temporary separation from your soulmate is just a blip in our existence. Vincent is my soulmate or it’s Kurt Cobain or Frida Kahlo… or hell, maybe they are all the same people. Admit it, by now you think I’m making this crap up as I go…just setting up the blocks the best way I can as the saying goes, “wisdom is where you find it.”

Though I’ve digressed in major fashion, the Van Gogh exhibit was priceless in my reckoning and I so closely identify with the quest that Vincent cruelly endured. I am always looking for “truth” … I read Sartre, Buddha, Jesus, Plato, Thoreau, Celtic Druids, Stoics, Epicureans, any bit of enlightenment to shed light on my current path. Wisdom is indeed where you find it. While on our excursion, we listened to Matthew McConaughey’s book on life and living titled, Green Lights. McConaughey always plays characters who seem to see the world differently or have a special insight but never see life as a definitive path. From Wooderson to Brigance to Woodruff to Hanna to Coop, McConaughey’s characters are cool dudes who have it together, but are placed in circumstances that are far from together. They stick to a code but are very matter of fact casual about it. I enjoy his films, I’ve heard him speak, he appears in every way to have an open mind and like many of his characters, he’s seeking fulfillment and or validation. It was a good book, relatively speaking (VERY RELATIVELY) his growing up wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows; he faced many crossroads, don’t we all; he didn’t compromise…much on the seeking of his passion and this was a message not lost on me during this transition. His book had something to teach me after all, “wisdom is where you find it.”

Listening to McConaughey on the way to see Van Gogh? Well, alright, alright, alright. Surely these two “cool dudes” shared similar insights. Both were and artists, both seek clarity of purpose, both wished to experience the vibrancy of living….hey guys… me too! Their paths both reflect in moments when they feel most alive. When were the times I felt most alive? When did my nerve endings feel on fire and my senses were acutely aware of everything going on around me? “Good times, bad times…you know I’ve had my share,” and either could be a moment of intellectual, emotional, passionate clarity. Suffering the most heartbreaking betrayal of my life, I felt alive, but I don’t recommend it. Standing alone on a cliff side I had climbed in the Texas Hill Country and gazing outward, I felt alive. When my precious granddaughter Peyton looked at me with all the innocent wonder of a small child and said, “I wuv you Pop Pop,” I felt alive. Walking the streets of Arles, France where Van Gogh walked, I felt alive. Experiencing the complete immersion into the art and mind and heart of Vincent this weekend broke me down to sobbing because it was so overwhelming, I felt alive. When I separate myself voluntarily or not from commonality… that’s when I feel alive. The road less traveled…the break from playing life by the numbers…the challenges faced…the undiscovered country in your soul is where you will find yourself. Like Vincent once told his brother Theo, “humanity is a paved road … it’s comfortable to walk on but no flowers grow there.”

Ideally, self fulfillment should be reached at some level, but remember my “weirdo” belief system; sometimes, not in this life. I’m fifty five and served humanity well as a teacher for thirty years. I wasted time not really creating art as I should’ve been; playing guitar as I should’ve been; writing as I should’ve been; I ran theatre camps and directed Destination Imagination performances for twelve years, but have yet to find my balls and get on stage. ( I did an improv comedic performance on the stage of the Apollo in Harlem in front of ninety people…I felt very alive, but it doesn’t count) At the very least I should have found my voice…know what I want to say to the world. Vincent did, but he never realized it. McConaughey did and is cool with it. Vincent never experienced clarity of mind; McConaughey has and shares it confidently in a book. There are a thousand ideas floating, sometimes screaming, in my head about what does my art express; what does my writing say? I have a catalog of song ideas that have never been heard on my guitar. There are countless vistas of this world that I want desperately to see, that I haven’t seen yet. This is the challenge of my life change, my transition… the similarity between Vincent and McConaughey, the goal of every life to strive to find your voice. As Shakespeare once wrote, “that life, the powerful play goes on and that I might contribute a verse.” I don’t know my voice or my verse… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know anyone who thinks like I do…some…they leave ….others run away, but as it should be expected; this is a solitary quest. We creative humans are prone to this struggle and failing to find one’s voice can be a struggle of life spanning proportions. None of us get out of this alive, but the artist often burns out spectacularly without self realization: Van Gogh, Hemingway, Cobain, Bourdain, Cornell, Beehan.

Two deep souls I came across this weekend contributed their voice. One worked and struggled and suffered for his voice and it was only ever heard after this life ended. Another, was far better equipped to deal with and avoid the spiritual struggle that ensnares less fortunate in their quest. One took their life, one became a star… both asked why? I, on a much less grand stage, know that this life is destined to end and

I have gifts, tools that I don’t know how to use. I’ve said this, today…but it’s not enough. I like sitting in a swing, drinking a cold beer, lazily dozing off under the warm sun; I will not let that be all there is. This is the part of all our transitions that should look the same. I want to be challenged, I want to say and express something unique, I want to feel alive if only for moment…even a star glows when burning out.

[crystallinecrimsonmoth]

Future Serial Killer [ongoing]

Chapter 4

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Carl watched as the Saviours handled their possessions roughly, chucking them in the back of the van. It felt wrong to follow Negan and his men, to get help from them felt like he was betraying his dad. He hated the sick feeling that it caused.

The large men who had followed Negan were surprisingly gentle with his friends, unlike their possessions, offering a hand to both Daniel and Ada as they climbed into the van. Ada gave Carl a reassuring smile before disappearing into the van, forcing Carl to acknowledge Negan’s presence, who was now standing with the car door open.

‘Get the hell in the car before I slap you again.’

‘I’ll bite you again if you touch me.’

‘And then I’ll kill the pretty boy in the van as payment, so get your ass in the car.’

Carl huffed out a breath but didn’t argue anymore, getting into the passenger side and glaring at Negan while the man got in and started driving. They were quiet for a long time, at least ten minutes of driving time passing before Negan made any noise.

‘I’m sorry about your sister. She was a cute kid.’ Carl rolled his eyes at that comment, turning his head to look out the window and glimpsing the sight of a walker ripping into a deer.

‘Can’t believe deers still exist.’ He murmured quietly to himself, but Negan obviously heard, the car dead silent other than the sound of both their breathing.

‘Nature finds a way, kid.’

‘Could you stop calling me that?!’ Carl snapped, frustrated by the whole situation.

How the fuck did he end up in his father’s enemy’s car? Losing his dad wasn’t enough for the world apparently because now the nightmares were joined by the real fucking face in front of his eyes, driving the car he was sitting in and offering medical help. What the fuck happened to make this chain of events unfold?

Negan looked somewhat surprised when Carl snapped but he didn’t care, irritated enough by the man’s face, never mind his nicknames for him. He hated being called a kid, he was seventeen for fuck's sake, or at least he thought he was. He wasn’t a kid anymore; he should have been equal to Negan. Instead, with no weapons to his name, he’d allowed himself to be picked up like a kid taking candy from a stranger, and he’d dragged his unsuspecting friends along with him.

The Saviours were a horrid group of mercenaries who would most likely rape Ada and beat Daniel to death, and he’d led them right into their waiting hands. He hated himself for it.

The car seemed quieter now, like Negan didn’t know what to say after the teen’s outburst, before he finally spoke.

‘You deserved to be one, though. You deserved the time to grow up like I did, in a normal world without the dead roaming the streets. But you’re right, you’re not a kid, you haven’t been for a long time.’ He sighed, staring out at the open road as he drove them to the Sanctuary.

Carl glanced at him, still with a sour puss look on his face.

‘Why are you helping me, Negan? Do you have a game plan here? Am I a dead man walking?’

‘Now you see, that’s how I know you’re not a kid. You ask the right goddamn questions.’ Negan hummed but he didn’t answer him, pulling up within the gates of the Sanctuary when they were opened in front of them.

‘Still just as ugly as it was last time.’

‘You’re not funny. Hey, unload the shit, I gotta take the kids to the Doc!’ Negan gestured to a few people standing around, who quickly went to the van to unload the supplies in it.

Carl looked around at the settlement, surprised to see an extra growing patch with plants sprouting from the soil, and a different dog barking at the chained walkers at the front gates.

‘What happened to the other one?’

Negan looked at him and then to where he was pointing.

‘Oh, that. The other one got too close to the dead motherfuckers.’ He explained simply, putting a tight hand on Carl’s shoulder as they waited for Ada and Daniel to get out of the van.

Daniel looked terrified as he took in the Sanctuary, stumbling away from the guy who let him out and staying glued to Ada’s side. She, on the other hand, looked up at the height of the building in amazement, before approaching Negan and Carl.

‘Your guys are alright.’

‘They’re under my orders and I’m not a bad guy.’

‘Don’t think Glenn and Abe would agree with that.’

‘Who?’ Negan turned to Carl with a smirk, but the teen knew it was just to get a rise out of him.

He lowered his shaking fist, not wanting to start something he couldn’t finish without a weapon, and settled for insulting instead.

‘Asshole.’

‘You’re going to wear that nickname out in a day, aren’t ya? Okay, kids, time for a check-up and stitches!’ He announced, putting an arm around Daniel’s shoulders when Ada moved back to Carl, walking ahead of them with the younger man.

Ada put her hand in Carl’s once she was beside him, leaning on his shoulder and looking up at him with big eyes.

‘You think he’s okay?’

‘How would I know? That bastard beat two of my friends’ brains to mush and now he’s inviting me to his house for free stitches? It doesn’t make sense.’

Ada frowned, stroking the back of Carl’s uninjured hand.

‘He hasn’t hurt us so far. Maybe he’s had a change of heart?’ She suggested, a little too optimistic for Carl’s liking.

‘I might believe that if he hadn’t burned my family alive a month ago.’

They entered the Sanctuary building and followed Negan with Daniel, who was looking around the place curiously. Negan seemed to point things out to him every so often in casual conversation, and Carl only watched while he noticed a faint smile on Ada’s face at the two’s interaction.

When they reached what he assumed to be the medical part of the Sanctuary, the doctor kneeled in front of them, bowing his head to Negan who beamed proudly, looking back at Ada and Carl like he was proving a point. Carl knew exactly what that point was, and he didn’t need it proven again after his last experience in the Sanctuary.

‘Doc, you remember Carl. I don’t know the names of the other two. The lady can introduce them both.’ He waved a hand in the direction of Ada and wandered over to one of the supply cabinets, pulling out what Carl assumed to be painkillers.

‘Ada, that’s Daniel.’ Ada smiled at the doctor from beside Carl, letting Daniel stick to her side again when Negan let go of him.

‘The little bastard bit me. Can you believe that shit, Doc? I offer him help and he fucking bites me.’

‘You had it coming.’

‘That mouth is gonna get you fucking killed.’ Negan warned to shut Carl up, sitting on a chair and swallowing down the painkillers.

Carl glared at him, turning back to the doctor who seemed focused on his job now.

‘Okay, Simon told me about the bite on your wrist, I’ll deal with that after the check-ups since it’ll take longer. Here.’ He rummaged through a cupboard and brought out a syringe and a bottle of medicine.

‘Tetanus shot, Carl, can you take your shirt off for me?’

That made Negan wolf-whistle and he smirked at Carl, clearly already doped from the painkillers.

‘Yeah, Carl, shirt off. Give the lady something to look at.’

Carl did his best to ignore the man, taking off his shirt and giving the doctor his arm. Once the injection was done, the man evaluated his injured hand and then shook his head.

‘Those deep cuts will take a while to stitch. May I examine you two first? Especially you, Daniel.’ He smiled at Ada and Daniel.

‘Why especially him?’ Carl frowned from where he was standing, feeling wary of the doctor all of a sudden in case he posed a danger to Daniel.

Daniel looked uneasy now as he shifted back and forth on his feet. The doctor didn’t approach him but spoke in a kind tone.

‘What are you using to bind your chest, Daniel?’

Carl saw Daniel’s eyes widen and it took him a moment to catch on before he realised what the doctor meant. Daniel was always awake before him, always went to sleep after he did, always wore the same baggy hoodie during the day despite the heat. Oh…

Ada stepped in when Daniel was questioned, and Carl supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that she already knew. The pair had been travelling together two years before they met him.

‘We searched for a real one for months but couldn’t find one, he’s been using bandages. I told him not to, it’s not like anyone else is going to see but he wouldn’t listen.’ She sighed, looking away when Daniel glared at her.

The doctor nodded slowly, glancing at Negan who was frowning, looking concerned as he watched Daniel retreat into himself.

‘Okay then. I need to examine Daniel, and Carl needs to be stitched up. Sir, are you willing to deal with Carl’s wounds?’ He asked Negan politely who took a moment before nodding, collecting the stitching equipment and standing behind Carl, waiting for the go-ahead from the doctor.

‘Make sure the cuts are clean before you stitch them. Ada, if you could stay to interpret for Daniel, I’d be thankful. My sign language isn’t the best and I’d rather he wasn’t bending to write things down.’ The doctor smiled at Ada, who nodded, kissing Carl’s cheek once before sitting on the examining table with Daniel, holding his hand in hers.

Carl smiled at Daniel who managed a small smile back, and he was glad he’d reassured him that he wasn’t bothered by the discovery. Starting for the door, Carl was almost out of the room with Negan when one of the guards across the hall whispered under his breath and both of them caught it.

‘Tranny freak.’

Negan’s reaction was immediate and terrifying, and Carl ducked so low when he heard the shot that he almost hit the floor, doing his best to stifle the scream that wanted to leave him when he saw the guard on the floor, a bullet in his forehead.

‘I don’t have time for that shit in my house. Come on, your hand needs attention more than the dead guy.’ Negan’s rough voice spoke up from above him, and Carl straightened to walk beside him, very aware of the hair-trigger on Negan now.

‘Okay.’

[we-are-guildmaster]

Original Story: Dreamer

I like to write in my spare time and I’ve decided to share a little of it here when the mood strikes me. Below is the first part of a story I’ve been working on for a while, I got off to a good start then stalled a bit. I hope you enjoy.

It’s 6:32 am on a Sunday and I was woken up by a Dream. I don’t Dream often anymore, I find as I get older my nights are filled with normal dreams. But tonight I had a Dream. It was of the get together of course, it almost always is. Normally, I would roll over and go back to sleep. But this early morning I received a text.

Prepare to report.

That’s all the text says, and it’s from a number I’ve never seen before. But I know the message is for me, and that there is so much more to it.

The hunt went wrong this year.

Let me tell you a story. On a small farm some where deep in the countryside lives a family, we’ll call them the Johnson family. The Johnson farm is in a remote part of the country and is far from just about anything. It doesn’t produce much, a little of this, a little of that. But each year the Johnson Family farm plays host to a get together.

People from all walks of life come out. They drive for hours, fly, bus, take trains, or do what ever it takes to get there. Most years it’s a different group of people, rarely the same person twice. They show up on what ever day they are suppose to, great the Johnsons with familiarity, even if they have never met before. They are welcomed in and treated as old dear friends. Each person, never more that 13 in total, sometimes as few as two, leaves their donation on the hall table as they arrive, a cashier’s check for $100,000 U.S. funds. Dad Johnson collects the checks in the morning and deposits them in the bank.

The rules are simple. On this one night a year, you don’t go outside, you don’t invite your friends over, you forget the world outside your bed room door even exists. You stay inside. Because this is the night the monsters come out.

Simple back ground, in nature there are predators, the best ones look like something other than what they are. Insects especially are good at this trick. They can look like sticks, or leaves, or chunks of wood, but when the time is right their true colors show through.

Now that that idea to the next level, there are predators who hunt humans as prey, their trick? They look like us. A mistake most people make is thinking that these things are, or were human. They aren’t and never were. They just wear our look to fit in and bide their time. The good news is that just like every other predator-prey relation ship, there are a lot more of us than there are of them.

The ones that are good at what they do, you never hear about. They lead their seemingly normal lives and no one is the wiser. People on the fringe of society near them just disappear from time to time, old folks in nursing homes who have no next of kin, homeless people on their last leg with nothing left to loose, you get the idea.

The ones that are not so good, well, you read about them in the paper and their names are hard to forget. Gacey. Daumer. Bundy. They have the monster equivalent of an eating disorder.

To keep from being wiped out wholesale the monsters have what are essentially game wardens. They monitor the heard and let the other predators know which members of the heard can be picked off safely, when, and how. The world is divided up into 13 regions, and each region has a warden.

Each year, if a warden is having a problem with one of his monsters, he comes to the Johnson farm on the right day and meets with other wardens who are also having problems. They trade information about their problem children, decide on a course of action, and then seal the pact with a traditional hunt.

And what do they hunt you may ask with dread in your voice? One of us of course. Not one of the dregs this time, not this night. When you are sealing the deal, it’s a full on prime specimen. An athlete, a career violent offender, a military special forces operative, someone who actually has a fighting chance. They hunt them, kill them, and feast on the body. The next day Dad Johnson goes out with the tractor, digs a very deep hole, and drops what little remains in and buries it.

But this year there was a problem. This year dinner didn’t go down quietly. And now here I am on a Sunday trying to rub the sleep from my eyes and waiting for the next phone call.

You might be thinking, this guy must be one of the wardens, after all he knows so much. Or maybe he’s just one of the monsters, a silent hunter who has a guilty streak and wants to share his story. Unfortunately wrong on both counts. I am one of the few humans who is born with the ability to Dream. Capital D.

When you go to sleep, your brain takes the miss matched chunks of information, throws them into a blender, and spills them back out across the inside of your eyelids as dreams. Little d. There is no real rhyme or reason to them, it’s just a random bunch of crap your mind puts out there for you to unwind.

When I, or some one like me, which is about 1 in a 10 million people, go to sleep we normally get what you get, dreams. But sometimes, when it’s important, we Dream.

Look at it like this. Jim and Frank get into a fight and they both get arrested. Jim says Frank started it, Frank says Jim started it and no one can figure out what really happened. Jim’s story paints Frank as the bad guy, Frank’s story paints Jim as the bad guy, and both of them believe in their hearts that they are telling the truth. Now in most cases there isn’t much you can do. A judge will listen to both sides and decide what’s what and hand down his verdict. Who ever is ruled against feels cheated and it’s fairly inefficient.

But let’s change it up a bit, let’s say that there was a video camera hidden where Jim and Frank were and caught the whole thing. Now the judge has a blow by blow accounting from an unbiased source. Things become a lot easier for all involved. Those of us who Dream, we’re the video cameras, and we only video tape monsters.

No one knows why we can Dream. Even the really old monsters can’t remember a time when there weren’t Dreamers. But every monster knows we’re out here, and every monster knows that if something big goes down, a Dreamer is going to see it. So from time to time we get asked to come in and tell the higher up monsters what went down so they can keep the rest of the beasties in line. The rules concerning Dreamers are simple. We come when called, answer truthfully and completely, and we stay off the menu, that’s it.

Now why would we be on the menu in the first place you ask? A good question. You see Dreaming take a lot out of you. It’s kind of all we’re good at and built for and it takes up most of the resources out bodies produce. So your average Dreamer is sickly, and dysfunctional in a big way. People on the fringe of society, old folks in nursing homes who have no next of kin, homeless people on their last leg with nothing left to loose, you get the idea. Prey.

Me, I’m one of the really lucky ones, a high functioning Dreamer. I’m confined to a wheelchair, barely able to make it from chair to bed on my own, but completely together in the mental department. That makes me a valuable tool for monster society.

The phone rings, it is 7:04. They must be really on the ball this time, usually takes then over an hour to get to me on the list. As tempted as I am to let it ring I answer on the second tone. “Did you Dream?” the voice on the other end is raspy, and impatient.

“Yes.” I try to hid the fear in my voice, but I know he can hear it.

“We’ll send the van. Be ready in an hour, pack a bag.”

“I’ll be ready.”  Pack a bag. That’s a new one. I slowly transfer into my chair and begin my morning ritual, bathroom, hair, clothes, meds, pack the bag. That’s what life boils down to in the end. Rituals. What we do when we go into auto pilot, the things that pass the time between. I finish up and check the clock,7:49. They’ll be here soon.

8:02, a sharp knock on my door, prompt as always. I roll over to the door, place my bag on my lap, and open it. Big guy this time, serious looking, smells of expensive smoke and leather. “You are prepared?” his voice is deep like distant thunder.

“I am.”

“Then we go.” I roll into the hall and lock my apartment door. He takes the handles and moves me down the hall at a study pace. I use to wonder what they were under the skin. I gave that up after a few visits. Monsters don’t like people asking questions. Besides, it’s better that I don’t know. I have nightmares enough with out seeing the naked truth.

We exit the building and he rolls me over to the van, the ramp is already down with the engine running. I’m the only passenger. No surprise there. We make good time to the airport, no small talk, no radio, just driving and my own thoughts. We bypass security with the wave of some credentials, probably fake. A private jet is waiting for us on a back runway. A tall slim woman in a tan suit is waiting by the stairs to the jet. The big guy lifts me out of my chair and loads me into one of the front seats with out a word.

The lady suit and the big guy board and he closes the hatch behind them. She taps the pilot’s door and says, “We’re ready.” I hear some chatter from behind the door and the cabin starts to pressurize. She sits down across from me, “Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” She has a soft voice with a hard edge, like a razor covered in velvet.

“A glass of juice would be great.” I answer. She waves a hand to big guy, and he pulls open a mini bar and pours me an apple juice. As he does that I look around the plane, nice interior, plush carpets, leather seats with work stations tucked into the sides.

She points to the big guy as he hands me the glass. “Anthony will be your escort. I am Ms. Landers. Our flight is international, do you have your passport?” I nod and pat my bag. “Good. It’s always nice to work with someone who is efficient.” She pulls some papers from a side pocket of her chair. “Have you ever met the Council before?”

The Council. Shit. I try to keep my voice calm and study, no need to tempt fate by appearing any weaker then normal, “No ma’am. I always report to my local handler and he relays to his superiors.” Shit, shit, shit. This is really bad. The Council never sees Dreamers. There are always intermediaries. One of the game wardens must have been important.

“If I may ask ma’am, why am I meeting the Council? My reports have always been factual and prompt when requested.”

A sly grin passes her lips, the kind that makes you think of a fox in a hen house, or a snake in the grass. “Indeed they have been. In fact that is the primary reason you are being selected. The Council has recently…” She pauses as if looking for words, “come under new leadership, and they wish to meet such a valuable asset as yourself.” She leafs through the papers, a bare glimmer of amusement wrinkles the corners of her mouth. “The First Lord wishes to have a better grasp of events than what was being offered through the local handlers.”

A new First Lord, new Council members, could mean a shakeup in the whole monster rank structure. I sip my apple juice slowly, trying to figure out if I am being called to my last report. Anthony sits across from me, his big frame causing the leather of the seat to squeak as is settles under his weight. Ms. Landers hands him a several pieces of paper. “Your travel papers.” He glances over them and slides them into his inside pocket. “Make yourself comfortable, it’s a 7 hour flight. If you need any of your needs met, Anthony is a skilled nurse provider.” Her tone tells me that the conversation portion of our flight is over.

I settle into my chair and adjust my leg blankets. I close my eyes and drift in and out of sleep. Snippets of conversation between Ms. Landers and Anthony drift through my mind as I rest. They speak in a language I’ve heard before, but never learned the name of. Images of castles and dungeons pass through my worried mind, with all the dread of a child waiting for the monsters to come out of the closet.

I hear the wheel screech on the tarmac and feel the impact of the plane hitting lightly on the ground as it lands. The pilot says something in that language and we begin to slow down and taxi onto the runway towards a terminal. The sky outside is cold and grey as the plane comes to a halt we’re still well away from the terminal. The door opens with a slight hiss/ pop and the steps extend. Outside is a long black car with the rear door open.

[dragonbornoflegend]

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45,46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, and 100. My hand hurts now.

Lord have mercy upon my soul 1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? I always try and have a decent balance with the two, but I lean towards more milk. 2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? It depends. If I've just left a warm place, it feels refreshing, but if I'm already outside and cold then it feels like death.3) what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? Right now I'm alternating between an astrology card I got from a fortune teller machine in a Spinelli's and a dollar bill that has the word "BONER" written on it. 4: how do you take your coffee/tea? Coffee sweet with shit like chocolate or pumpkin spice, and tea usually iced with enough sugar to taste the diabetes.5: are you self-conscious of your smile? Yep 🙃 I lost my retainer in the 8th grade so my teeth are Fucked Up™6: do you keep plants? I certainly try, but I'm kind of like Timmy's mom from Fairly Odd Parents7: do you name your plants? Yep! I used to have a bromeliad named George before I accidentally killed it. 8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? I tend more to just bottle them up lmao but if I had to pick one it would be writing 9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? I do, but I refrain from doing so in public out of respect for others 10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? I'm a stomach sleeper. It's painful. 11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends? Most of my jokes honestly. "Just watch some porn and eat more chocolate", "you got a 30 on your ACT", the implication that I on the reg put it in @fuckthepersonthattookmyusername's ass, stuff like that. 12: what's your favorite planet? I feel like I should say Earth since I live on it? But I also highkey relate to Pluto bc I, too, constantly struggle with validation. 13: what's something that made you smile today? My dogs. My Big Dumb one is chasing his tail in front of me as I type this. 14: if you were to live with your best friend(s) in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? Spacious, with lots of plants and a goat skull hanging on the wall. A nice kitchen. My dog is there and healthy. 15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! I don't have my glasses on and at first glance I thought this said "weird spice fact" and I got really excited. I did google a space, fact, though, and I learned that Neutron stats can spin at a rate of 600 rotations per second. 16: what's your favorite pasta dish? Does "all of them" not count? If I had to pick one, right now it's tortellini. 17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? Silver. I do love my red, though. 18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. Basically everything I do that exemplifies how dumb I am lmao. I almost didn't graduate high school and they nag me parent-style about that one a lot.19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? I do not, I've tried before but I've never known what to write in it. Plus I'm always way too paranoid that someone will find and read it. 20: what's your favorite eye color? @stripper-boots's 21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. The only bag I really have that's lasted a while (I abuse my bags lol) is an orange drawstring with a skull printed on it. It's got some weeaboo buttons on it bc for a while it was my convention bag. Now I mostly use it to collect buttons on. 22: are you a morning person? Absolutely not. If allowed to I will sleep until 2 pm with no issues.23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? Usually just sit around and watch YouTube/Netflix or play video games. Today is actually one of those few days, actually. I've got plans on running to the local farmer's market too so I can plant some herbs later on. 24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? I have people I would trust not to tell anyone else, but I still wouldn't ever tell them. It's less a trust issue and more that I just don't want anyone knowing some of these things. 25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into? An abandoned church compound. It was a big lot full of tons of old buildings. Some of them were used for storage and had a bunch of newer stuff in it but some of them looked like old schoolhouses and dorms. The desks inside had schoolwork dated from the 70s in them. The place has since been leveled, though. It's a shame. 26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit? My combat boots. They've seen hell, basically. 27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor? I can't remember the name, but 5 gum has these two that are great. One is a fruity flavor that kind of tastes like Monster and one is a mint that's great because it's not as harsh as most other mint gums.28: sunrise or sunset? Sunset, probably. I'm usually awake to see that one more. 29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? Exist. 30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? On one hand, I think so, but on another hand I do have that "could be worse" issue. Yesterday I was woken up by a man I didn't know knocking on my door and then literally climbing on my roof. After he got down he started banging on my door and yelling. That was pretty terrifying but I do feel like it could have gone much worse. 31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. I do enjoy weird patterned socks, I think they're cute. White socks are demon spawn tho. I also despise sleeping with socks on. I went through a phase in middle school in which I exclusively wore fuzzy socks. Never again.32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. Boy do I have a story to share. I once went out to watch Rogue One with @stripper-boots and another friend, and somehow the night ended with us picking up another person, stealing a grocery cart from a CVS near my school, and driving through our old high school's parking lot while someone sat in the cart and held on to my van. We would then hit the brakes and the person in the cart would let go and see how far they would keep rolling. It was absolutely amazing. 33: what's your fave pastry? Listen, I'm a baking and pastry student, I can't pick just one. If I had to narrow it down, I love making turnovers and scones. Blackberry and sage scones are absolutely amazing. 34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? I kept (and currently keep) two stuffed Dalmatians named Spot and Pongo (I was a creative kid, I know). I've had them since I was born and they're both incredibly dear to me. 35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? I always want to, but almost every time I end up too afraid to use them because I want to wait and find something that would be worth using them for (spoiler alert: I never do). So I've stopped getting them lol36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now? Probably The Neighborhood or something like that. I'm feeling pretty mellow today. 37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? I like to keep it super clean (even if it occasionally gets messy thanks to depression). The people I live with are pretty messy and it gets to me pretty badly so I try to have at least one clean area that I can retreat to.38: tell us about your pet peeves! Hoo boy, here we go. I cannot stand it when people chew with their mouths open (people that have to due to some sort of disability or something don't count, ofc). It is seriously one of the grossest things in the world to me and it honestly makes me uncomfortable to the depths of my very soul. Most of my family and a few of my friends do it, too, and it absolutely kills me. I also can't stand it when people put their feet on things or when they do something I've asked them not to because they find it humorous. 39: what color do you wear the most? Black. I'm still a little emo kid at heart. Plus I own all dark haired animals lol. 40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you? I wear a collar around my wrist that belonged to a dog we fostered. It's from when he was a puppy, which I think is pretty great because as he grew up he ended up coming up to my hip with his shoulder. Seriously, he was huge. 41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving? Both of the books in the Kingmaker, Kingbreaker series. I read them my sophomore year of high school and I still think about them a lot. I'm not even sure why, they just struck a chord with me and I absolutely love them. 42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! I feel obligated to say the one that belongs to my school. It's basically the only one that I really frequent, anyways. The cafe mochas are amazing. 43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? Honestly, I can't remember the last time I actually stargazed. It's definitely been a while.44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? Probably before I was born. My mom smoked a lot of weed while pregnant with me so I'd imagine I was a pretty chill little fetus. 45: do you trust your instincts a lot? Anxiety won't let me. 46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. Basically any pun my chef instructor this past quarter told us lol. Or anything that comes from @stripper-boots47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? Candy corn 48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? I was always terrified of tornadoes, to the point that some nights I would just lay awake and cry because I was afraid that a tornado would come crashing through my house, even on nights with nice weather. I'm no longer that afraid of them, but I do still get really nervous when it storms out.49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? I love CDs! I haven't bought one in a while, but the most recent one I "acquired" (aka stole from my dad) was the Cloud Atlas soundtrack. 50: what's an odd thing you collect? Sadness. 51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? I associate the song "Fuck You" with my mom. Because fuck her. 52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? All of them53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? I've seen Rocky Horror and parts of Beetlejuice. They're both pretty awesome. 54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? Myself in the mirror lmao55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point? I try not to be dramatic that much? Idk. I'm answering all 100 questions of this rn to prove that I'm not a little bitch. 56: what are some things you find endearing in people? Genuine care. Like honestly, someone can act caring towards me once and there we go, I think they're great and want to be their friend. 57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? You mean there aren't people that dramatically reenact the lyrics? 58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? @thenomoreotaku is the self-proclaimed wine mom. I feel like @stripper-boots is the vodka aunt. 59: what's your favorite myth? Listen I love mythology, do not get me started. Just all of them. 60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? I really like "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" from Robert Frost and basically anything from Neil Hilborn. 61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received? Every gift I give is stupid. I'm not very good at giving gifts. 62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? I'm not really a fan of juice. 63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? I want to be organized but I am Not. 64: what color is the sky where you are right now? Kind of a light gray with some blue. It rained last night. 65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with? I haven't seen my friends since Saturday night, does that count as a long time? 66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? Anything with bright flowers (probably red) and maybe some Quartz on it too. I actually plan on making some soon. 67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? I like the melancholy feel but I hate how humid it is when it's misty so I'm kind of on the fence about it. 68: what's winter like where you live? Normally I would say Fucking Cold but this winter was actually pretty warm so?? Thanks global warming. 69: what are your favorite board games? I really like Betrayal at House on The Hill, and I appreciate the cutthroat factor of Monopoly. I was also recently introduced to Arkham Horror and it was pretty lit. 70: have you ever used a ouija board? Nope71: what's your favorite kind of tea? I have this black tea that's cacao mint flavored and I love it 72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it? YEP73: what are some of your worst habits? All of them. 74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. Listen I have like, 3.5 friends this is going to be a pain to choose one. I have one that's pretty saint-like lately. Bc they're holey. 75: tell us about your pets! They're all amazing and I love them. I have a 6 year old blue pitbull named Jinxx, 3 year old Presa Canario named Murdoc, a 9 year old brown tabby cat named Tiger, a fluffy black cat named PJ that's somewhere between 7-9, and a betta fish named Radicchio. 76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't? Going to the farmer's market and cleaning my house. 77: pink or yellow lemonade? I don't like lemonade 😐78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? I will hate minions until the day I die 79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? My friends literally made me a bedroom. 80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? They're just white. I wanted to paint them but I never got a chance before we moved in. 81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. He much will everyone hate me if I use "azure pools" 82: are/were you good in school? Definitely not lol. I think I'm getting better now that I'm college though. 83: what's some of your favorite album art? I really like some of the drawings from Alesana's album The Emptiness. That's all I can think of off the top of my head.84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? I currently have one tattoo of my cat, and I plan on getting something baking related (probably a quote about bread) and something Wizard of Oz related. 85: do you read comics? what are your faves? I always mean to but I've never actually gotten around to it. 86: do you like concept albums? which ones? I love concept albums. Alesana did three concept albums in a row that were all related and I absolutely adore them. 87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Cloud Atlas, Uno: The Movie88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? Do Snapchat filters count 89: are you close to your parents? Occasionally with my dad, but not with my mom 90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. The one I live in lol. Louisville is pretty lit. Lots of good food. 91: where do you plan on traveling this year? I'm hoping to make it to Sandusky for ColossalCan in the beginning of June.92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? There is never enough cheese 93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most? My sidecut. It's basically my most recognizable trait at this point. 94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? My stepbrother's birthday is the 14th 95: what are your plans for this weekend? I'm not sure, but I'm hoping to chill with the D&D squad and play some more board games. 96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? I can't remember the last time I installed an update on my computer 97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? ISTP, Libra, Slytherpuff98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? Probably year or so ago. Hiking is lit. 99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. Stressed Out from top because I'm always stressed 🙃100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? I wouldn't press either tbh. Leave that shit how it is.

[onestowatch]

Shortly Unveils Endearing Tales Of Life On The Road  [TOUR DIARY]

Coming off the road after months of performing show after show, Shortly is infiltrating her way into our ears and hearts. The indie solo-act is the artistic endeavor of Detroit-native Alexandria Maniak and recently put out her first EP, Richmond. First breaking onto the scene with her haunting debut single “Matthew,” Shortly has positioned vulnerability and intimacy at the heart of her music. 

From reflecting the consequences of her actions, like in “Finders Keepers,” or dissecting her emotions, like in “While We’re On The Subject,” Shortly displays a moving interpretation of the human existence through her music. Bringing her style on the road, Shortly and her band traveled across the country performing in new cities and getting to know fans far and wide. Follow along as Shortly gives a personal account of her tour adventures.

Photos: Kris Herrmann

Our show in Salt Lake City was cancelled because of hazardous weather conditions. We ended up stuck in Colorado for a couple of days longer than we planned (there are definitely worse places to be stuck- what a beautiful state). The Have Mercy crew joined with Oso Oso and us to have a one-off show at a bar mid-renovation to fill the gap. We announced it less than 24 hours before, and the show was packed. It's one of my favorite memories. This is Austin practicing in the room next-door, which will become their new venue post renovation.

On the rare occasion we could afford a hotel (or couldn't find anywhere to crash).

Truthfully, we hadn't heard of Blanco White prior to booking a show with them. We were a bit confused when they asked us to strip down the set, but we understood as soon as we heard them soundcheck- the band is ethereal. Austin and I took to some monotone colors and found ourselves back into playing our shoegazey, light footed duo set that we played for so long. It was a welcome change of pace.

It's always fun to see what the light techs will do when they hear our music. We're opening, and we don't expect them to know the dynamic of the set. In this case, it was disco. Very, very disco.

The Mohawk in Austin, Texas, is an outdoor venue. We found out when we showed up. We took BIRD scooters all around the city and spent some quality time in the warm (just a week later, I was huddled around my space heater again in Detroit). This is a precious photo to me- with Zayde Wagner, my day to day manager and boyfriend, and with Tavish of Oso, who became one of my closest friends. It was a pleasure to have them with me.

Kris snapped this photo of us scouting a location for a video cover of a Damien Rice song. We wanted somewhere with white noise, somewhere surreal. We found ourselves climbing the peak of a landscape at Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs.

Just messing around on the guitar on top of a mountain... Nothing out of the ordinary, here.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find the opportunity to shave when you're driving 15+ hours? I now understand why some venues have showers.

Austin went away for grad school in Montreal, Quebec. This was his first day back in the city since graduating. I didn't know that he knew so much French. I learned more about my bandmate in Montreal than I ever did in Detroit.

The man behind the camera. Not enough photos of this guy. This is Kris Herrmann sitting excitedly beside Jade/Oso Oso. I'm speaking for all of us when I say that he is a life saver. He's full of so many beautiful ideas and he has the kindest heart out of all of us.

Our van broke down. Plain and simple. We're driving through what, Utah? And at 3:30am, the van makes a horrifying noise. We come to a stop and wait at the side of the road for hours for a tow truck to make it to us, and then to a (very not vegan) diner to wait for the only mechanic within 100 miles in either direction to open. We fell asleep peacefully in these chairs, sitting up straight. I'm sure we looked ridiculous to the early birds at the auto shop.

A moment to rest.

We're starting to abide by this rule: No backpacks on the greenroom chairs. There aren't enough of them in the first place.

I don't remember this. Probably because I was sleeping. I looked like this most often, I'm sure. We had a lot of long drives and a lot of traveling troubles and a lot of very, very energetic shows.

We found a checkerboard. We didn't have any pieces, so we played chess with coins (heads versus tails, different stacks of change being the queen, the king, your rook, my rook). You gotta do what you gotta do when you have 3 off days in the middle of nowhere.

Something I've admired about my bandmates from day one is their impeccable ability to stop in all of the right places. "Hey, the locals say there's a beautiful reservoir 20 minutes that way. Let's go." In this case, we stopped on the side of the road to look at some windmills and gawk at how far from home we were.

Patience is a virtue. We change up the set a little bit every time we play it because the way that we play is entirely dependent on responding to one another and complimenting each other's dynamics for the night.