#forget lifting people with one hand he can t[TRAIN PASSING LOUDLY BY]

[chanrizard]

[duskholland]

Had to send this to you bc your writing is so amazing 😩 friend! Tom showing you pictures on his camera roll of a trip he was on and forgetting he had nudes in there, and you scroll to accidentally find them and you’re both stunned for a second but he shoots his shot by telling you that there’s more, you can look at them if you want. and you do, and toms behind you watching you look at them. he even tells you there’s a video too, if you wanna see it. and you’re like now or never, so you tell him yes. bc the sexual tension would be so high bc it’s uncharted waters and I could see Tom dragging you into his lap to watch the video together and him being like am I big enough for you? I was thinking about you and it would be SMUTTTTTTT whew I need to lay down 🥲🥵

ugh...your mind. I love this! 18+ nsfw !!!

– clearing out the askbox – 

“Hey, do you want to see..? I took some photos of it- Wait, let me just find them.”

You wait patiently as Tom digs around in his pocket, his tongue between his lips as he focuses on procuring the device. He makes a loud tada sound as he whips it out, his eyes sparkling as he quickly starts to scroll through his photos. You watch him closely, admiring his side profile discreetly.

You’ve known Tom for years, met him at a function in London through a mutual friend. When he’d moved into a large townhouse just in the outskirts of the city a few months ago, you’d been one of the people to move in with him. He’s been away for several weeks, on press in Europe, but now that he’s back, he’d dragged you down onto one of the sofas in the living room to share his stories and show off his photos.

“Is it really as big as they say?” You wonder. “I’ve never seen the Eiffel Tower before.”

Tom hums, and you watch as he scrolls through his photos, eyes focused. He looks very good today -- biceps pressing out against his black t-shirt, his Rolex glinting on his wrist. His hair lies naturally over his forehead too -- soft, brown, wavy. Your friend is very attractive, something you’ve always been aware of, but the time apart has made your feelings sharpen.

“Yeah, it’s bloody huge,” Tom muses. “Ah! Here you go, love.”

Tom carefully passes you his phone, and you swallow harshly when your fingers brush his and you feel sparks light off at his touch.

“Wow,” you exclaim, squinting as you admire the photo of the tower, soaring up into the sky. “You’re right. It is big.”

“Mmm. There’s more. You can scroll if you want.”

You start to flick through the photos, smiling as they change a little with each shot. Some of them are blurrier than others, and after a while they change as Tom moves from the ground below the monument, to climbing the staircase, then getting in the lift, then travelling to the top. You enjoy watching the story progress, seeing the shots of some of Tom’s friends, then a few selfies of Tom in sunglasses with a wide cityscape captured behind him, then--

You gasp softly as you scroll a little bit too far, and find yourself staring at a photo of Tom’s cock.

“Oh shit,” Tom mutters. You feel him go very still beside you. You’re sitting so close together that you can feel his thigh, warm to touch. “I… Forgot that was on there.”

You swallow dryly, suddenly feeling your pulse throbbing in your ears. You can’t stop looking at the photo, marvelling at the sight of Tom’s cock, red and erect, sitting in his hand. He’s clearly in a hotel room, and the lighting and the angle are very good, leaving little to the imagination. You bite your lip as you notice the way he has a strong vein curving down the side of his member, and find yourself squeezing your thighs together as you try, desperately, to snap out of it.

“It-it’s okay,” you mutter, voice hoarse. Your face feels hot with embarrassment, but you can’t deny the arousal coursing through your system too.

“There’s more,” Tom says, voice low. You can feel him looking at you, and there’s no doubt in your mind that your friend can tell, just from your reaction, that you like looking at his nudes. “You can look at them too, if you want.”

You tilt your head slowly, glancing at him, your eyes taking in his expression: cheeks slightly rosy, smirk on his lips, gaze pooled with lust. It makes you shiver.

“Okay.”

Tom moves closer, and you can feel his breath on your neck as his fingers slowly shift into your hair, moving it out of your face very delicately, gently. You swallow, your heart beating roughly in your chest as you continue to scroll, your eyes widening as you enjoy the different angles of his cock, each captured crisply by the camera. You feel yourself getting wet, partly from the photos, but also due to the way Tom’s so close. He dips his head down and your breath hitches as he ghosts his lips over your neck, kissing you so softly that it’s almost as if he isn’t there.

“There’s a video too,” he adds, husking into your ear. You moan softly when he sucks on the tender spot behind your jaw. “Watch it.”

You oblige, scrolling past more shots of his cock before arriving at the video. With slightly shaky fingers, you press the play button, biting your lip as you watch the short clip. The air fills with the sound of Tom’s groans, distant and buzzed with slight static, but still hearty enough to make you whimper. He’s kissing your neck with renewed strength, both hands wrapping around your middle, fingers caressing your sides as you stare at the phone. The sight of his arm veins flexing as he gets himself off makes you squirm, aroused not even beginning to cover how turned on you are.

The air is thick as the video ends, Tom cumming with a low cry, his seed shooting out over his hand as his upper stomach. You let the screen fall dark, your breathing heavy and unsteady as he stops kissing your neck.

“What do you think?” Tom asks, his accent hanging heavy in his voice. “Am I big enough for you, darling?”

You nod. With nervous hands, you put the phone down and turn to face him, feeling a surge of confidence as his hold on your waist guides you to sit in his lap. You straddle him, grunting as you feel his cock straining up against his grey sweats, and the pressure that it provides to your aching clit makes you whimper and repeat the action.

“Definitely big enough,” you mutter, looking at your friend closely. He seems to be just as aroused as you are, his hands guiding your movements as you slowly grind down against him.

“I was thinking about you,” Tom admits, “when I was filming the video. Thought about sending it to you, just to see if you’d like it.”

You bite your lip, realising that the attraction you feel towards Tom hasn’t been one-sided.

“Why didn’t you? I would’ve liked to see it.”

Tom’s eyes twinkle with arousal. “Wanted to do it in person, watch your face when you saw my cock.” One of his hands moves away from your waist, and he slips it between your legs. You’re so glad you’re wearing a skirt, because all you have to do is part your thighs and then he’s able to slip two slender fingers between your folds. Tom gives your clit a few teasing rubs before slipping his fingertips down to your entrance. You whimper when he slips them into your heat, meeting no resistance, and you moan loudly as he curls his fingers and starts to stroke up against your g-spot. “Fuck, darling. You’re soaked for me.” He leans in to peck your cheek, leaving his lips by your ear as he adds, “Do I turn you on?”

“Yes,” you whine immediately. Your moans grow louder as Tom continues to fuck your heat, his thumb shifting up to nudge against your clit. You reach up and grab at his shoulders, grinding down to meet his fingers every time they thrust up into you, feeling arcs of pleasure spiral out from your cunt with each movement. “You feel so good, Tom. Been dreaming about this for months.”

“Mmm, should’ve just said, love.” Tom’s back to nibbling at your neck. “Anything else you’ve thought about doing with me?”

As good as it feels to have his fingers working you open, you know there’s one thing on your mind.

“Yeah,” you admit breathlessly. You look him straight in the eye. “I want you to fuck me, Tom.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirk intensifying. “Oh, really?”

You hum. “Yeah. I want to ride you right here, right now. Feel how big your cock actually is.”

Tom swears, his fingers leaving your centre. “Okay,” he agrees, voice tight. “There’s a condom in my jacket, I’ll go-”

“I’ll get it,” you say instead. You kiss his cheek before standing from his lap, your legs a little shaky as you walk from the living room to the porch, thankful that you’re the only ones home. By the time you return to the lounge, Tom’s stripped off completely, sitting bare on the comfortable sofa with his hand around his cock. You toss him the condom as you take a few moments to pull off your tight shirt, your skirt, and your underwear, keeping your bra on before settling in his lap.

“You’re so hot,” Tom mutters, running his hands all over you. His touch against your bare skin feels electric, and you find yourself pushing into him as you enjoy feeling him map you out. “Bloody stunning.”

“Thank you,” you reply, almost a little bashful. You sit back and watch as Tom pumps his cock, hard and leaking precum, just like the video, before he rolls down the condom. Your eyes admire the lines of his abs, strong and defined, and the rest of him, equally attractive, and you feel your cunt clench as you imagine how good it’s going to feel to have him unravel you. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

With the condom on, Tom’s hands go back to your hips. He gently pulls you forward and you sit up, reaching down to guide his cock between your folds.

“Neither can I,” he admits, eyes trained between your legs. “Been thinking about- fuck- about your sweet little pussy for months, sweetheart, I--” He breaks off completely when you slide down onto him, your walls expanding to accommodate him. Your forehead falls to rest on his shoulder as you breathe deeply, moaning as he fills you up. “So good.”

“You’re so big, Tom,” you whimper. After leaving a moment to adjust, you sit back up and slowly start to ride him, taking your time as you get used to the fit of his body. You can’t stop yourself from whimpering, loudly, as his tip brushes up against your g-spot repeatedly, igniting a deep frenzy of sparks in the pit of your stomach. “Feels so fucking good inside me.”

Tom’s face is pulled tight with enjoyment, and you moan as you see his jaw clenching and the deep line of concentration furrowed between his brows. When he opens his eyes, you see nothing but appreciation and arousal webbed across the depths of his gaze.

“Love your pussy, Y/N,” he moans, cheeks flushing deeper. One of his hands stays on your hip, guiding you, and the other goes to touch your clit. He grins as he rubs your bud and feels you clench around him. “You like that, yeah? Like the way it feels for me to be inside you?”

“Yes, Tom,” you whisper.

“I know you do, I can feel how wet you are.” Tom’s watching you like you’re a spectacle, his words interspaced with small grunts as he lifts his hips to meet your movements. “So fucking snug for me, aren’t you, love? Your pussy feels so good... I’m not going to last long.”

“Neither am I,” you warn. You can already feel it building, building, building, and with each slap of skin on skin, coupled with the noise of your wet arousal getting fucked by his member, you get closer. “Fuck, Tom, ‘m gonna cum-”

“Do it,” he coaxes, his own voice strained. “Wanna watch you fall apart for me, love. Go on.” He rubs your clit a little faster. “I’ve got you.”

Tom’s grip on you is unwavering as you peak with a loud moan, your walls spasming around his cock as your orgasm sweeps across you in an intense wave of unyielding pleasure. You grip at his shoulders, shuddering as you continue to bounce on his length, not stopping until Tom climaxes as well. You feel his cock pulse as he finishes, his breathing coming out in low, grunting pants, and as the two of you ride it out together, his forehead falls to your shoulder.

“So good,” he whimpers, lazily kissing up your neck. You still in his lip, recovering your breath, and then both of Tom’s hands move to your face. He looks at you, eyes full of appreciation, and you find yourself smiling softly at him. “Can I kiss you?”

You giggle, nodding your head. “Seems like we’re doing this in a bit of a backwards order,” you point out.

Tom smiles before uniting your lips, his mouth feeling hot against yours. He’s still smiling when he pulls back, his eyes slightly nervous.

“We are,” he admits. “Would you like to come out on a date with me?”

You nod, your heart warming in your chest.

“Yes, Tom,” you say, pausing to kiss him again. “I’d love to.”

[kaitoujokerscans]

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH3

<3> Noir Strikes!

The violent tremor made Hachi and Hosshi shriek.

"Eeek!"

"Hosshi!"

"W-Whawazzat!? Is Spade back!?" Joker looked up. The middle of the Sky Joker was a giant gas-filled sac called an envelope, and it was sandwiched top and bottom by the airframe. Joker and the rest were in the lower part, whereas the tremor had come from the upper part. The two people and one pet ran through the hallway up into the upper gondola. The collection room for less recent treasures was up there. All their spoils of victory were organized compactly in it.

"Joker-san, over there!" Hachi pointed to a gaping hole in the ceiling. The obvious assumption was that someone had blasted it open.

"..." Joker put himself on guard. He slowly surveyed the room, and just then, he caught a glimpse of a fluttering cape.

"Who's there!"

He could see the silhouette illuminated by the light of the moon. A long cape draped behind his lanky body, and a large silk hat covered his head. He looked familiar — seeing him, Joker shouted out abruptly. "Master!"

Yes, he looked exactly like Joker's master, Silver Heart. But then the moon's light shone over the man's face.

"Wha...!" Joker's expression froze up. That wasn't Silver Heart...!

The man's round spectacles glinted. Behind them, callous eyes quietly regarded Joker. As the moon's light gradually shifted, the man could be discerned better. He wore the same hat and double-breasted suit as Silver Heart, but their colors were the exact opposite. Gold buttons shimmered on his jet-black suit, and his black hat was emblazoned with a golden letter "N".

"Greetings, Phantom Thief Joker..." came a low, monotone voice. The wind should have been roaring from outside, yet the man's words reached the pair's ears calmly and clearly.

"My name is Noir. I'm certain my advance notice found its way to you..." It was evident from the man's voice that he was much older. The voice that streamed out of his seasoned throat flowed forth with gravitas.

His voice had a strange ring to it. It left no impression, as if you would forget about it if he weren't standing right there.

"..." Joker noticed that his usual lackadaisical attitude had gone. What is this feeling...? Joker's instincts were telling him that the man in front of him was dangerous. Regardless, he plucked himself up and spoke like normal.

"I've been waiting, Phantom Thief Noir. Looks like you're after my treasure." The corners of Joker's mouth were raised, but his smile was stiff.

"That is correct. My intel tells me that those terming themselves 'phantom thieves' must send out advance notice..." said Noir deliberately.

Joker responded loudly, as if he were trying to shake off his nerves. "Obviously that's what phantom thieves do! That's what my master taught me!"

"Your master... is that so, heh heh heh..." Noir chuckled. His strange laughter was unsettling to Joker. "And your master's name is...?" asked Noir. He sounded as if he were asking a question to which he already knew the answer.

"My master... is the Silver Magician, Silver Heart!"

"Heh heh heh... As I thought..." Noir leered, his eyes glimmering eerily. "Then as announced, I will take your treasure...!" Noir lifted a hand high and snapped his fingers. Then immediately, BOOM! BOOM! — a series of explosions roared, blasting off the Sky Joker's entire roof.

"Wha-!?"

"What just happened!?"

"Hosshi!?"

Above them was the expanse of night sky. A fierce wind buffeted Joker. Then Noir stuck up one index finger and said to Joker:

"One minute."

"Huh?"

"Shield the treasure from me for one minute. If you can protect it for a full minute, I will accept defeat and leave here."

"You what..." Joker glared at Noir.

"Joker-san!"

"Don't worry, Hachi. A minute'll be over in no time." Joker may have been acting flippant, but he expected this to be a tough match. As someone who lived in a world where every second mattered — and even shorter intervals too — Joker knew best how long a minute could drag out for. And there was one other thing...

Joker heard a voice inside his head. Shield the treasure from me for one minute. Joker had heard this phrase before. It was probably back when...

"The count's already begun!"

Noir's shout cut off Joker's train of thought. He threw up his cards to block Noir's attack. Noir, tall in stature, had swung a knife. Masterfully wielding the short blade, he beat down upon Joker.

Joker blocked the knife blade frantically. The strikes were hardly swift. Nonetheless, he would quite plainly be injured if he didn't guard against them. Noir's blade was honed in on Joker that precisely.

"Rrgh! Rrghhh...!"

"What's the matter, Joker? Your pocket's unguarded! I can pilfer the crystal from it at any time!"

"!?" Joker took a giant leap back, flipping in midair before landing. He had found out that the gem was in his breast pocket. Joker softly patted over the pocket. He could feel the crystal. It hadn't been taken yet...

He's toying with me...!

Joker's competitive spirit was ignited. He fanned his cards out and yelled. "Straight Flash!"

The cards shone with blinding light, and Noir raised a hand to his eyes. While he was still immobile, Joker jumped back towards Noir.

You can't win just by defending! No matter how far back you're pushed, going on the offensive will open a path to victory!

Remembering what Silver Heart had told him long ago, Joker charged towards Noir. If he could just make him drop his knife by using his cards, he wouldn't be able to attack any more.

"Hiiyah!"

It was just as his cards had caught the knife. Joker saw a suspicious glint in his field of view. Oh shoot...!

Joker scrambled to twist his body while off the ground. As he did, he felt a sharp knife whizz right past his nose. Had he noticed the glint any later, the blade would most likely have cut into his face.

But how... He shouldn't be able to see right now!

It was then that a heavy impact rocked through Joker's body.

Noir's knee had caught Joker in the stomach. Massive pain pervaded his body, and Joker could no longer breathe. Then he felt his lapel being grabbed at. As soon as he processed this, Joker's body was tossed into the air. Noir had sent Joker flying with a model shoulder throw. Joker's scrawny body hit the floor like a rag doll.

"GWHAAAAAH!" Joker let out an incoherent howl. His whole body was in agony.

"Joker-san!"

"Ghh... I'm... okay, Hachi..." The falling position he had taken just before hitting the floor had done its job. He didn't have any bone damage, at least. Joker got up wobblily and scowled at Noir. When he did, he saw that the spectacles Noir had over his eyes had been replaced with sunglasses.

"When did you...!?"

The sunglasses had blocked the light and rendered Straight Flash ineffective. Noir then touched the end piece of his sunglasses and turned a tiny knob. The tinted sunglasses instantaneously changed back into the same transparent spectacles they had been before.

"W-What are those!?" Hachi exclaimed in surprise.

"...Polarized lenses, eh."

"That's correct, Joker-kun."

Polarized lenses have a special coating that prevent light from coming in from anywhere but one specific direction. If two polarized lenses were aligned in the same direction, they would appear at first glance to be normal lenses, but by changing their orientation, light wouldn't pass through and the lenses would turn dark like sunglasses. They are much like the light shade plates used when looking at the sun.

"You predicted my attack...?"

"Hardly a remarkable feat. I only imagined how my opponent would attack two or three steps ahead. Then I changed danger into an opportunity. According to my intel, this is the basics of being a phantom thief. I'm sure you're aware of this...?"

"Ghh..." Joker bit his lip in frustration. Master said this too. How does he know Master's teachings...? His attacks were being read like a book. This was the first time he had faced such a formidable opponent.

But...

Joker's spirit hadn't been broken yet. He could still feel the crystal against his chest. The pocket that Joker had the crystal in was bifold. Just sticking your hand in wasn't enough to pry out anything. You had to put your hand in all the way and under another layer of cloth to get at whatever what was inside. Noir probably hadn't been able to get his hand all the way in there.

"But it looks like I still won. I protected the treasure for a full minute...!"

"..." Noir stared at Joker silently.

"What's wrong? Aren't you the one who said the match would only last a minute, gramps?"

Then Noir laughed derisively — at himself. "Hmph, it seems I'm slower than I once was... It took more time than anticipated to snatch the crystal from that second inner pocket of yours," Noir said, and waved his hand. Almost like magic, a bright red crystal ball shone in Noir's fingers.

"T-That's...!" Bewildered, Joker put a hand to his lapel. There was a hard sensation.

How...!? In a panic, he probed inside the pocket and removed the crystal — but the thing he pulled out was no gem. It was a rock about the same size as the crystal. The rock was hefty and sank in Joker's palm.

"When did you...!?"

"Just after I mentioned your pocket to you. I deliberately set you on edge, only for you to be relieved moments later. That relief was the key. You could say you dropped your guard. When you let down your guard, used the shining cards, and approached me, that was when I took it. Slowly, with these deteriorating hands..."

"......" Wordlessly, Joker sank to his knees. I didn't notice at all...

Noir had gotten his hand into Joker's pocket, removed the crystal, and to top it all off, he had even planted a dummy. Joker had utterly lost...

"Now then, I will leave with the treasure. You're fairly clever. Your aptitude is wasted as a phantom thief." Noir's words pierced right through Joker. "According to my intel, you were least skilled at 'protecting treasure for one minute' drills."

"What...?"

The one who had told him to "shield the treasure from me for one minute" during his training had been none other than Joker's master, Silver Heart. What Noir had proposed was exactly the same as his master's training.

"...Do you know Master?"

"Yes, far better than you do. He was quite a talented man. Yet a talented master will not necessarily have talented disciples..."

"'Scuse me!?"

"Farewell, Phantom Thief Joker!" Noir twirled his black cape. It was such a dark, obscure black that it was as if the stars around him had vanished. The cape wrapped around him with a fwoosh, and an instant later, Noir was gone.

In the darkness of the blustery night, Joker, Hachi, and Hosshi stood idle, staring stupefied at the empty void.

[yandere-sins]

I was wondering if I could request 45 and 49 for Felix H. Fraldarius? The way you write about him is amazing and charming thanks for your hard work (๑��̵ᴗ˂̵)

Thank you so much! I am glad you enjoy my writing of him :D

“If you ask me nicely, I can fulfill your wish.”    &    “I haven’t met a human like you in a while… How interesting.”

»»——————— ♡ ————————« 

The ruins were so old, you thought they’d collapse any second now, just because you were breathing. Of course, you were thankful that they were keeping up the mountain that surrounded you, leading you towards the actual ruins which long collapsed down into the mountain, completely hollow after so many centuries of existing. But even if you fretted to find your untimely demise under a fallen rock, you still had to venture on. There was a quest to finish.

“Return,” you heard an echoing voice grumble through the old tunnel, and it didn’t leave you unaffected, the hairs on the back of your neck standing. You knew you weren’t welcome, but still, even if the old ghosts didn’t want you here, you’d have to seek them out for their advice. As you were told by the oracles, there would be hundreds of lost souls waiting for you at the end of this path, but only the one you needed would appear before you.

This caused a mix of anxiety and expectancy to bubble in your stomach. You had read so much about the old legends of the Garreg Mach Ruins, the heroes and their enemies, the great battles, and no losses on their side. If anyone could help you with the war raging outside of these old ruins, then those ghosts of the ancient times.

It was prettier than you expected. Sure, overgrown and worn down by time and weather, but with the sun breaking through the hole in the top of the mountain, it had a nostalgic feel to it. Birds had made their nests on top of pillars, and the ground had moved away for water, little fish swimming beneath your feet as you crossed a toppled over wall that worked like a bridge. Had you not known where you were, this would have been a beautiful ruin to explore.

“Leave. You don’t belong here,” a disembodied voice called out to you again, and all you really could do was nod. You didn’t belong here, but you had a reason to be here. “I seek help,” you answered it, loudly, though you flinched as some debris fell down, shaken by the vibrations of your voice. Turning, you took a few steps backwards as you watched it, making sure there wasn’t a boulder coming down to squeeze you under it, when suddenly, you felt a cold resistance in your back.

For a moment only, you thought it was a pillar or anything else of the building around you, when your survival instinct kicked in, and you swirled around, hand on your sword. But before you could pull it, you had been conquered with a sharp blade pointing at your throat, making you afraid to gulp as it would have cut you with just the tiniest bit of change in your skin.

Defeated, you slowly lifted your hands, eyes focusing on your opponent rather than the deadly weapon at the most vulnerable spot on your body. You’d have lied if you said that the appearance before you wasn’t scary as he was. The coats and furs he wore showed what kind of high position he must have had when he was still alive, but they hung from his seemingly non-existent body, only reminding people of what kind of build he must have had.

And yet, you recognized the emblems on his jacket, the black hair, the colors he wore. You recognized him as one of the greatest sword-fighters to ever exist. Felix Hugo Fraldarius, a master of the blade, and even more so, a dedicated, high-ranking soldier and nobleman.

His face was ashen white, but in stark contrast to the dirty and ripped clothes on his body, it still seemed human enough to not be unpleasant to look at. It was even... a little attractive, you admitted to yourself, though his glare was as cold and unwelcoming as it could be. “You were warned,” he spoke, no echo this time, designated just for your ears. “Do you have a deathwish?”

The ghost said it so nonchalantly, it was almost like him asking you what kind of dinner you wanted, but his words were no less terrifying than his appearance himself. Showing him your hands, he didn’t even glance at them, never stopping to pin you with his eyes even if you tried your best to show you weren’t out to hurt him. When you took a step back, he matched your stance immediately, and you were sure now that he wasn’t just any kind of guard or soldier.

While you couldn’t say you were trained or maybe even exceptionally skilled, after holding up your own sword for so long, you knew a fine enemy when he approached. Back in his day, this man must have scared the living shit out of his opponents, just like he did it now with you. But you couldn’t allow yourself to falter, you had come so far!

“I inquire your help,” you mumbled, eyes switching from his stiff glare to his blade and back again. “Outside, war rages and innocent people die by the minute.”

“So you came here for help? What idiot would search for help from ghosts?”

You. You were the idiot.

“You can’t help me,” you admitted, looking along the countless reflection in the - strangely enough, perfectly clean - steel. “But you can train me to help myself.”

He didn’t expect that, as you saw his expression change to surprise for all of a second. Even if his stance stayed firm, always on target, he did allow himself to click his tongue, and finally, the blade lowered, in a way, it would have simply cut you open had it touched you. “What a nuisance. You think we’ll just accept requests of any kind of person who comes here to inquire about us? People hear about our resting place all the time and come for all kinds of shit, like their marriage problems. I have nothing to teach you.”

He turned, ready to leave you and your problems behind as if it didn’t concern him whether someone died or not. But you, for you, it was a big concern, and your chance couldn’t be wasted just because your ghost was moody and maybe an asshole. “Then why did you appear?”

He let out a disgruntled huff, shrugging with his back still turned. But at least he stopped walking, glaring back over his shoulder. “Someone had to.”

“Then please!” you pleaded, taking a step forward. Felix didn’t like it, turning halfway as if you were going to jump him, and he had to defend himself. “Please, help me too! I’m not trained and I can’t handle the sword like you do. But I can sit and watch, and train until I am too exhausted to stand!”

A moment of silence fell over you two, except for the birds chirping in the distance. Had you said too much? Too little? Where you supposed to speak up again? Beg him some more? You wanted to open your mouth, but you were quick to shut up when he turned back to you, his expression even more severe than seconds ago.

“I haven’t met a human like you in a while… How interesting.” 

In a matter of a few steps, he was in front of you again, closer than ever before. Without the sword keeping some distance, you had to admit he reeked of what must be old fabric and furs, mixed with dirt or... other substances. Rot and decay of years you’d never be able to grasp on. But it was just another test you told yourself, and you’d not fail right in the beginning. “Show me what you got,” he ordered, moving aside to give away the whole platform you were on; stone that must have belonged to a great monument back in the days.

You weren’t sure what to do, but you unsheathed your sword, took the only stance you knew of, and swung, trying to show what you were made of. You didn’t even land the first air blow, when you already felt a shove at your elbow. The touch was cold and unforgiving harsh, making you stumble from the suddenness. “Higher,” he instructed, and while you felt the need to complain about your treatment, you swallowed your sour mood in favor of following the ghost’s advice.

Immediately, you felt relief in your shoulder. It was so different, the result was an instant gratification. But while you wanted to share your joyful conclusion, you were immediately bombarded with more shoves, correcting almost everything. “Goddess, you suck.”

“T-Thanks,” you bit your lip, swallowing the pride you were not supposed to have if you wanted his attention, fearing he’d let you down the moment you showed some resistance.

Another shove.

“Have you thought about how to repay my kindness.”

“Re... Repay?!” you quaked as you flinched from the push in the back of your ribs. “Everything comes at a price, don’t tell me you forgot.”

He was in front of you, arms crossed and anger in his expression, the moment you hesitated to answer. You did forget, or more like, you didn’t hear the oracle scream it after you as you set out on your quest. “Of course, I did not forget.”

“Hm,” he snorted. “So, what to do I get?”

“What do you want?” you mumbled, making some more swift attacks under his strict eyes and icy touches. “Are you really going to give me what I want?” he asked, and you nodded - slowly. If it meant that you’d be able to make a change in the war outside, save many more lives than he could ever want, then sure, what kind of promise could it be? “Then I want you,” he hummed into your ear, and your body didn’t know what to do first - jump to the side or have your cheeks fill with heat.

“Don’t get full of yourself now,” he continued, passing you by as if nothing happened. “If I train you, you’ll become as strong as I am, and then...” Turning towards you, the same, shining silver sword appeared in his hands. “You will be my training partner, finally someone worthy to fight.”

Taking his own stance, you were almost afraid to imitate him, but it was as good of a lesson as any. “Is it a deal?” Felix asked, and you agreed with another nod. “That won’t do.” His stance loosened, a surreal experience to see knowing how correct and serious he was always. “If you ask me nicely, I can fulfill your wish. And only then.”

You gulped. Even if the sword wasn’t at your throat now, you felt like it was a throat-cutting decision to make. “If I become your training partner--”

“--it will be forever,” he finished your sentence. “Mine, and mine alone.”

Both of you took on your fighting stance again, his sword shining in the sun rays from above. Felix wasn’t one to give you a chance to think about things for too long, and as you later found out, it would be the skill that would keep you alive the longest. There was no choice to make, only responsibility and virtue, and as he dashed towards you, you knew your fate was sealed, accepting it with a quiet, "Okay," to yourself, rather than doing as he told you.

But you’d be alive long enough to win the war you so desired to end. Even if it meant that he’d come for you when the time was over, to take what he made out of you. What belonged to him, rightfully.

And would haunt you forever.

[whirlybirbs]

Promptssss: “you’ve got blood on your shirt.”

— worry.

summary: daryl & aaron go missing. you worry.pairing: daryl dixon x boston!reader, from tenderly ferala/n: i wanna smash these two’s heads together n make ‘em kiss, so have some fluff and feels and mild angst!

Daryl Dixon doesn’t like being fussed over. Hates it.

He supposes, though, in this case he sorta deserves it. 

They’re gone for too long. Three days, to be exact. What was supposed to be a fast run with Aaron had turned into a damn event thanks to a blown back tire, no spare, and run in with one too many walkers. 

They’d been pinned down, stuck in a farmhouse down the road fifteen miles; and now, sans the hatchback, they’re finally home.

They arrive at the Alexandria safe-zone well into the night, shrouded in exhaustion and gore.

He and Aaron are greeted at the gates by Glenn, Michonne, and Eric.

The rabbits slung around his shoulder don’t make up for the lost time – that much is clear from the worry creasing the faces of those around him, all bearing charged flashlights and full packs and loaded weapons. Daryl’s bike cuts short as Aaron parks; their new ride’s brakes squeaking loudly as he does.

As Aaron and Eric embrace, Daryl is slow to lift himself off his bike. 

“You’re okay?” Eric breathes, voice shaking a bit. HIs breath curls in the late, autumn air, “I… We all thought –”

“M’ fine,” Aaron laughs, moving to sweep an apology steeped kiss along his partner’s brow, “Hungry, but fine.”

Glenn’s hand meets Daryl’s arm, giving it a squeeze. The gesture is quickly returned. 

“You had us worried, man,” Glenn gives a light shrug, knocking his shoulder with a light punch, “Had Boston goin’ out of her mind –”

Daryl’s lips quirk a bit at that.

“Nah,” the archer breathes, “Ain’t nothin’–”

He hears your footsteps before he sees you. Suddenly, you’re in his arms; rocketing yourself past Glenn and Michonne and Eric and Aaron. You let the breathe sweep out from your lungs in relief as Daryl grunts and staggers upon impact. Quickly, he realizes who’s clinging to him – his hands settle on your waist as he sets you down from the embrace, not before ducking his nose to the crown of your head and making a small sound of pain.

You pull away, hair wild and eyes even wilder, as your hands grip his shoulders tightly. “Don’t you ever do that again –”

He doesn’t even get a word in when you hug him again; he can feel your heart pounding against the ribs in your chest – but, before Daryl can sort his thoughts out, you’re worriedly checking him up and down with careful hands. Your thumbs skim his cheeks and he winces a bit.

If everyone wasn’t starin’ maybe it woulda been sorta nice.

Then, the flashlights kick up light from the pavement in the dark and he sees the glistening glimmer of tears on your cheeks. 

“There’s blood on your shirt,” you rush out quickly, eyes bounding up to his face in a wild sort of terror that really gives away how your last few days have been.

Absolute hell.

First came the confusion – you couldn’t find Daryl at any of his usual haunts. Eric, too, hadn’t heard anything from Aaron since this morning and… they weren’t back yet? Well, when did they leave? I’m sure it’s just a quick supply run, maybe they found something good. 

Then, the night fell and silence. Eric had come over that night, ate with you all, and you tried to hide your increasing anxiety.

Day came. Then another. And with each passing hour, fear (so gut-wrenching it could make you sick) crept right up into your bones and made a home there. You’d damn near strangled Rick who’d insisted on waiting it out, waiting for them to come back – it wasn’t until you’d gotten Deanna’s blessing that you, Glenn, Michonne and Eric decided you were gonna head out. Sweep the area. Check for the cars. Check for his bike.

(You’d shoved all those emotions down and stomached the crushing worry – decidedly, now was not the time to be parsing through your feelings for Daryl Dixon. Friends. Friends worried over other friends… And he, really, was your only friend. So far. Besides Tara and Noah, and Carol. And Eugene, sort of? The point is, Daryl Dixon meant something to you. So, you worried.)

Then, while you’d doubled back for ammo, the call had come over the walkies that someone was at the gate. Daryl was at the gate. The familiar rumble of his motorcycle gave that away.

“Blew a tire,” Daryl explains roughly, like a peace-offering. His eyes are soft as you swallow and wet your lips, “Got stuck. That red townhouse down Route 16.”

“You’re okay?” you ask quietly, hand lingering by his arm.

“Yeah,” he nods, moving then to snag your shoulder and tug you close, “M’ fine, Boston.”

That damn nickname. You hate it. It’s dumb. But, it’s stuck.

You tuck your chin into his shoulder and exhale – again, you try to shove it all down as you pat his waist and nod. The strap of his crossbow digs into your cheek and he smells like rabbit guts, but he’s warm and alive and your friend. 

“C’mon,” it’s Glenn, “It’s late. Let’s all get some shut eye.”

You all start to disperse, then, and you’re a bit surprised when Daryl lingers behind you. He follows, a bit like a lost dog. The rabbits he caught swing as he walks, eyes trained on your back as you stalk back up the hill away from the gate.

“… Can’t believe you really missed me –” his words are warm with a playful edge.

“Shut up,” you look back at him over your shoulder, lip quirking.

His heart does a flip in his chest. Feels good. Whatever this is… it’s nice.

“– Gettin’ a search party ready, huh?” he mumbles, walking close as you haul your stuff back towards the armory, feeling a bit better than before, “What, like m’ some damsel in distress?”

“Jerk,” you chirp as you make your way inside, placing the rifle back in its rack slot.

Daryl leans in the doorway.

“Bitch.”

After a beat, you both snicker. It settles down differently, though – Daryl can still see the worry sitting deep in your posture. It’s radiating off of you, really, and when you turn back around after hanging up your gear you’d checked out, he sees it on your face too. 

The armory is dark, lit by the casted light of the Monroe’s home next door. It’s a warm light, dancing in across the floorboards in rectilinear shapes – as Daryl steps forward, they illuminate his busted lip and black eye. New injuries. 

“Didn’t mean t’ freak you out.”

“You matter t’ me,” you blurt out, words tangling up on themselves as you speak. Your eyelashes flutter as your voice cracks and you force the feelings out, “I was afraid you were hurt or dyin’ or dead…”

“M’okay,” Daryl says, full of certainty, as he steps forward and out of the light, “M’alive, m’here now. Ain’t no reason to be upset, y’know.”

“Yeah, but – I don’t have people that matter t’ me, Daryl. You’re it. A-And…” 

“Shut up, stop it. C’mere.”

Daryl doesn’t like bein’ fussed over. Neither do you. Maybe that’s what makes it so nice – a silent agreement to let it happen, to get it all out. He sways a bit as he snakes his arms around your shoulders and yours slip beneath his vest. The embrace is sturdy and homely and kind, and it makes you forget whatever you were worried about in the first place.

And Daryl realizes he’s got it bad.

[space-------kid]

can’t keep my hands (off you).

Anime/Manga: One Punch Man Pairing: Garou/fem!Reader Additional pairing/characters: platonic Metal Bat/fem!Reader, Zenko, mentions of other heroes such as Saitama, Watchdog Man, etc. Genre: Romance, comedy Warning: Absolute silliness. Language – Garou and reader both ate rainbows for breakfast. Dumbassery. Teeth-rotting fluff, maybe? Reader is hella strong like Saitama. Half-assed spice because you’re good at cockblocking Garou despite being low-key thirsty for him. And LOTS of dumbassery from the reader, most probably. Additional tag: Dream-based fic, canon-divergent, Garou is horny af A/N: This is supposed to be a lengthy one-shot, but I’m a dumbass who can’t keep my word so the supposedly one-shot isn’t a one shot anymore.  Now I have to worry how I should properly divide all those parts (I mean, they’re already divided, but–) 😅

A wild Garou finally appears!

Summary:

Your life had its general ups and downs, pros and cons, the good and the bad.

You were admittedly a coward and afraid of being targeted by people for it. Following the advice of your (best) friend you trained hard, like, FUCKING hard, and now you’re blessedly, utterly strong you can take down enemies with just one hit. A good thing, really. Can’t let any bad guy harass you or something.

But-

You were probably cursed with the biggest, baddest of luck. Not only were monsters chasing you, suddenly there was this fucking hot bastard weirdo who kept on calling himself the Hero Hunter. “I’m not a hero, goddamn it!”

i. and ii | [more to be added]

“i can’t keep my

hands

off…!”

- can’t keep my hands off you/simple plan

iii.

Alright, forget that you asked. You would always be Bad Luck, Dumbass Chicken [Name] to the universe, anyway.

You blinked back awake to the cheering of children, one of your fists thrown up for a punch and your entire front covered by green goo you easily identified as monster blood. Ew.

Looking down, your gaze zeroed in on the still twitching appendages of the huge insect monster your punch had nearly blown to smithereens. Its head looked totally crushed, and you had quickly figured out that its legs were still moving because of what was left of the electric impulses in its nerv-

You nearly emptied your stomach at the imaginary sensation of a hundred insect legs crawling up your skin.

Too creepy. I’m so fucking scared, for fuck’s sake.

“You saved us, big sis!”

“You’re so strong!”

“Are you a hero?”

“She must be, stupid! Didn’t you see how she beat that monster? Like, she just punched it and the monster’s head went ka-pow!”

Still grossed out by phantom insect legs crawling all over your body, you shakily turned to face the kids – five boys – and frantically shook your head.

“No, I’m not a hero-“ you tried to correct them but they seemed to have elected to ignore your denial and cheered again anyway.

Huh. Kids and their selective hearing.

“You must be new, huh, big sis?” one of the boys, a chubby black-haired one wearing glasses, asked you with stars in his eyes. Another one, sporting a bald head and a monobrow nodded in agreement.

“Maybe that’s why she ain’t in the Hero Guide Booklet yet!” exclaimed Monobrow.

Smile faltering, you waved your hands anxiously at the boys.

“I’m telling you, I’m really not-“

“Oi, leave the little lady alone, brats,” came a deep voice behind you. The boys took one look at whoever it was and scampered off to who knew where, and you could only hope that they would all be heading back to their own homes because it’s late in the afternoon already.

Relief washed through you as they finally disappeared from your sight. With a grateful smile you turned around to thank your savior, only to be met by a huge fist barreling straight at your face.

Your quick (and newly improved!) reaction time saved your face from being bashed in, your conscious mind battling your fight instinct because your attacker was a man. A very tall, muscular, and – oh, snap – handsome man, with sharp features, golden eyes, and spiky silver hair. The smirk he gave you was criminal, and you could feel your heartbeat quickening at being blessed given that seemingly satisfied look.

“Heh, nice reflexes,” said the weird guy, cracking his knuckles then getting into a fighting stance. You could tell from the way he dressed – fuck, that’s a really tight top – and how he carried himself that he was a martial arts expert.

Lucky for him, you weren’t.

“Yo, what the hell was that for?” you nervously asked him, backing away slowly. “You could’ve broken my nose with that punch!”

Weird Guy’s smirk widened. It gave you the heebie jeebies.

And it wasn’t helping that your fight instinct was screaming at you, telling you that you would get more than a broken nose if you refused to retaliate. If he was a monster, you would gladly let your fight instinct take over, but look how lucky you were! If your fight instinct took over, he would be the very first man you’d kill!

Deathly scared at the prospect of having red liquid splatter over the green goo sticking to your front, you closed your eyes and covered your ears.

“I’m too young to go to jail, holy shit! I don’t wanna kill anyone!” you yelled hysterically.

You could feel Weird Guy shooting you a confused look. You peeked an eye open and blanched when his expression turned into murderous glee.

“You’re not the one doing the killing here, little lady,” he said smugly, barking out a wolfish laugh when you winced. “Prepare to be hunted!”

And with that, he shot forward.

You had to bend backwards just to avoid a sweeping kick he delivered to your neck, your back and knees protesting at the sudden action. You dropped on the ground and rolled over just in time to evade his stomping foot. Eyes wide at the fissures his stomp generated, you quickly got up and tried your best to dodge the onslaught of punches he delivered at you.

Don’t fight, don’t fight, don’t fight, please! You repeatedly told yourself. He’s not a monster, oh god, you don’t want to kill a person, don’t you?

“Oh, my god, please stop!” you shrieked at him, downright horrified as your grip on your awareness slowly slipped from your grasp. “Can’t you see that I don’t want to fight?!”

Weird Guy stopped his assault to give you a perplexed look.

“Why?” he asked. “Isn’t that your duty as a hero? I’m a monster, you know, and you should stop me!”

“What?! I’m not a- I-I’m not a hero!” you denied, shaking your head for emphasis.

“Oh, no, no, you definitely are,” Weird Guy enthused, looking manic. “I saw how you saved those kids. A normal citizen would run away, but you didn’t. You faced that monster and took it out with one hit. Fucking reminds me of that fucking Justice Man.”

What the actual fuck? So, he thought you were a hero, too?

“No, no! I’m telling you, I’m not-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Weird Guy had already jumped at you and struck an open palm sideways to your chest, long fingers grazing your left breast.

You blanched out of fear at feeling the pain from the hit, then blushed when you only felt the warmth of his fingers seep through your clothes and when you realized that you had forgotten to wear a bra before going out. Your grip on your awareness slipped, one of your last thoughts circling on how this guy also seemed to be a pervert, grabbing (you knew he didn’t but it was the same in your book) at you like that.

Weird Guy grinned wildly when his attack hit, and yelled out rather proudly, “Remember this face, hero, and spread the word if you survive! Garou the Hero Hunter will-“

You tuned him out, static filling your ears-

F

       L

  I

G

      H

  T

F̢̨̛̰̻̦̠̭͖̺̾̓͛̓̅Ĭ̴̺̙͇̙̥̱̯̦̰̫͒͋̇̒͑͘G̴̩͔̩̜̥̙̖͛͛̈́͗̒̀́͜͝H̽̓̀̃̾̎��͇̜͔̜̦̥͉͓̹̹T̸̨̢̞̻̤̥̫̻̪̍̓̐͛́͑̾͜

 In your last effort to keep the guy safe from your fight instinct, you kept your hands slack, fists curled loosely as you lifted one to hit him in retaliation just as your mind went blank.

.

It was over the moment your fist – curled loosely, what for? – hit him straight on the jaw.

Garou fought hard to remain conscious even for a few seconds as he committed your face and the form of your body into memory, already listing off ways to counter an unexpected move like he always did when facing an enemy that would prove to be a challenge even for a genius like him.

Small stature hidden by baggy clothing, but he could still register the messy yet effective movements that enabled you to dodge his attacks. Quite flexible, too, seeing how you bent your body backwards to avoid a kick. You may be smaller than him, but boy did your punch – half-assed as it were – pack quite the heat.

And your face…

Garou had to be honest, you looked quite cute. [Color] eyes wide with distress, lips trembling as you lied about not being a hero and begging for him to stop his attacks. He wondered how long he would get to see such an adorable look on your face until you blacked out after that palm thrust landed squarely on your chest.

Too bad you didn’t get to see the satisfied smirk on his face when your eyes finally dulled, your expression coming up blank.

He was too caught up with his premature victory that he utterly failed to sense nor notice one of your fists going up to hit straight at his jaw.

Garou blinked, feeling his body float in slow motion and eventually crashing back down on earth, dark spots dancing on his vision.

What the fuck?

Were you just baiting him by acting like a goddamn coward?

Golden gaze found your prone form before he passed out, his last thoughts before fully blacking out revolving on a rematch should he find you again.

Who was he kidding? He would find you again, and that time he would not fall for your tricks again. You would be the one losing consciousness, he’d make sure of that.

Well, if you wouldn’t turn him in to the Hero Association. You were a hero, after all.

Weren’t you?

---

iv.

After he had been defeated by a surprisingly strong hero (you sneezed loudly wherever the hell you were), Garou was left wondering why he had woken in the park and not in a prison cell.

Why would a hero like yourself just leave him unattended like that? Did you not recognize him, or haven’t you heard of him yet?

Well, whatever. It was not as if Garou was glad about the circumstance he found himself in. If you didn’t know who he was prior to him attacking you, then there was practically no more explanations as to why he was still out here in the city and not confined within a four-walled cage.

Garou, however, couldn’t deny the fact that you not knowing who he was vexed him. He had defeated Tank Top Master, an S-Class. Did the Hero Association still not take him seriously?

The self-proclaimed Hero Hunter clicked his tongue in disappointment. Guess he had to kill beat more heroes up if that would get the stupid Association to give him the attention he so deserved.

Garou stopped on his tracks, eyes wide as he looked over his shoulder in surprise. He felt the ground shake before the sound of an explosion reached his ears. Soon enough, he could see black smoke through the canopy trailing up somewhere in the midst of K-City Nature Park.

A monster? Then that meant-

A feral grin appeared on his face. Just what he needed!

A shadow passed overhead as he ran towards the explosion’s general direction. Something wet landed a few feet behind him, the tell-tale sickening ‘splat!’ reaching his ears followed by a very familiar voice whose owner he had lost to.

“-keep telling them I’m not a hero, for heaven’s sake! I just wanna go home, Badd! Come pick me up, please! Yeah, I’m scared outta my wits here!”

Grin turning into a murderous smile, Garou could feel violence coursing through his veins. He never thought that he would get a rematch this early, but he’d be an idiot to let this chance slip by. Not when he already had a counter against your moves he could easily predict now that he had seen through your bluff about not being a hero.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss I’m-Not-a-Hero,” he said in lieu of a greeting once you emerged from within the forest.

And it was pretty convenient that K-City Nature Park is currently devoid of people except the two of you. Must be because of the monster that just attacked.

“Ah, thank god you’re alive- hey, what the hell?!” you exclaimed, expression quickly shifting from relieved to horrified. “What are you doing here? Are you… are you stalking me?”

The way genuine fear filled your face thrilled Garou to the bone. Heh, maybe you realized that baiting him like you did the first time wouldn’t work anymore. Also, you looked pretty cute in that blouse and skirt you were wearing despite the green blood staining your hands-

Hey, now, where the fuck did that come from?

Someone yelled on the other end of your phone call. Garou watched as you frantically yelled back at whoever you were talking to, telling them that you were being stalked. He nearly scoffed at your claim, and rolled his eyes when your screaming match with whoever you were talking to reached a fever pitch.

“What? You’re in A-City? B-But that would take forever! This weird bastard could’ve done a lot of lewd things to me before you get here!”

That made Garou raise an eyebrow at you in incredulity. First, you accuse him of being a stalker. Now you’re mistaking him for some perverted creep? Was this your ploy to get backup as quickly as you could?

He moved towards you in the blink of an eye, taking your phone and crushing it in his hand. You squeaked in terror, looking up at him as you stood frozen on the spot.

“You can drop the act now, little lady,” he told you menacingly. “You ain’t gonna fool me anymore. You’re just another hero I need to take down. No hard feelings”

Garou grabbed you by the collar, manic glee on his face at the thought of getting payback at you for beating him with just one hit.

You, on the other hand, cowered under his gaze. Eyes turning dull, your body went slack and you plopped forward against him.

It was Garou’s turn to freeze. Did you just pass out on him?

He tried to shake you awake but you were so out of it. “Hey, lady, what-“

You lifted your head, almost mechanically, to look up at him. The last thing Garou saw before one of your hands landed a powerful chop between the junction of his neck and shoulder was the same blank expression you gave him before he blacked out like the last time.

Huh.

Seemed like all of that mental preparation and movement prediction he made practically meant nothing against an enemy as unpredictable as you.

.

.

.

You were totally freaking out.

After lugging home the same weird bastard from a few days ago who scared you to death today (holy shit, did you really just take your stalker home?), you decided to call Badd for help. Then you remembered that Weird Guy broke your phone before you could tell your best friend where you were.

Great. Terrific. Wow.

Granted, you had every right to leave the weirdo currently sprawled on your futon alone like you did the first time. But you were so scared that you might have actually killed him this time (the bruise on his shoulder looked ugly) since you gave in to your fight instinct without sparing a thought on who you’re faced with.

Or maybe you did since the handsome bastard still drew breath when you checked on him once your mind resurfaced back to awareness.

Maybe you’d planned to bury him in the middle of K-City Nature Park if he proved to be dead. Lucky for you, you wouldn’t live a life riddled with guilt at murdering your fellow human by accident.

Currently, you were sitting on the floor of your bedroom and waiting for Weird Guy to wake up. You anxiously picked on the fabric of your short shorts while you kept an eye on him, watching his broad chest rise and fall with every breath he took.

You had taken quite a while ogling studying his features. He’s really easy on the eyes, you had to admit. And his muscles (“Oh, fuck, he’s hot-“) weren’t all for show, too. No one would ever know that you had (accidentally) copped a feel of those arms and chest when you hefted him up on your shoulders on the way home. You were eternally grateful for the physical strength your training had given you.

And his back… god, even his back muscles have muscles, for fuck’s sake!

You wouldn’t openly admit, but this guy was the second dude you’d describe as a freaking babe magnet.

(Badd didn’t need to know that he’s the first one. You didn’t need to give him something to relentlessly tease you with.)

Personality wise, you decided to lay off Weird Guy’s I-will-beat-the-crap-out-of-you behavior. You even excluded that weird stalking of his (you’d find out soon that he wasn’t), letting your fight instinct take over if he ever decided to go yandere on you. You wondered what he was normally like. Hopefully someone who wasn’t batshit crazy or something.

You stretched and yawned, letting your arms flop on the space of your futon he wasn’t occupying as you sprawled on the floor on your belly. You folded your arms and let your chin rest on them, [color] eyes admiring his side profile.

Oh, boy. You knew she wasn’t interested about it at her age, but you couldn’t wait to tell Zenko how you met this really, really good-looking guy.

Getting tired of waiting, you stood up and turned to your work table, grabbing a pen and piece of paper to pass the time.

You were fond of taking odd jobs here and there after you had graduated, still unsure of what you really wanted to do with your life despite the fact that you would be eighteen this year. Currently, you were working on a few art commissions to earn money aside from being a service crew at one of the branches of a certain fast-food chain in K-City.

You bent slightly to reach for the unruly pen that rolled away from your reach.

“Woke up somewhere I don’t know and the first thing I see is a pair of thighs. Huh.”

You stopped what you were doing and turned to face the weird guy, now wide awake and looking at you. Heat crept up your cheeks as you tugged on your short shorts, face undoubtedly red from embarrassment.

“They’re nice, by the way.”

At least he didn’t say ass.

You cleared your throat and backed off, fighting the urge to call him a pervert and maybe hit him for good measure. There was something you need to settle first, in case he started attacking you again out of the blue.

“Before you do anything, like, um, attack me,” you began, eyes glued on the wooden floor of your room, “let me clear one thing first.”

Weird Guy raised a brow at you, staying quiet. You took it as a cue to continue.

“Look, mister. I don’t know who the heck you are and what your game is, but I am NOT a hero. No. Nuh-uh. I am in no way affiliated with the Hero Association, and would never want to be. I’m not a hero, goddamn it! So, can you please, please, stop jumping at me and attacking me? I don’t want to go to jail for killing someone! I’m not even legally allowed to drink yet!”

“Tch. Didn’t even thank me for complimenting her assets,” he muttered, looking annoyed as he sat up and gingerly rubbed the place on his shoulder where you struck him.

You were completely caught off guard by his remark. Did he even listen to what you just said?

“H-Hey-“

“And don’t call me ‘mister’, little lady. I’m not that old,” he added, looking disgruntled. When he noticed you gaping at him, he rolled his eyes at you. “Yeah, yeah, fine. I get it. You keep saying you’re not a hero, but why did you save the kids from that monster back then? If you weren’t a hero like you keep on insisting, then why do their job?”

You wrung your hands and squirmed under his intense gaze.

“I-I’m kinda strong…? And isn’t that what decent, strong people do regardless of their title or status? I mean, isn’t it enough to be a decent human being to help?” you replied innocently, your eyes finding the hand clutching his injury to be particularly interesting – man, those fingers sure were long. You added rather self-consciously, mumbling under your breath, “…and it’s like I get a choice on the matter. My fight instinct does majority of the job for me…”

Unbeknownst to you, Weird Guy was now openly staring at you with mounting interest.

“You’re really not a hero, huh.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat before meeting his gaze and nodding in earnest.

“I’m really not!” you insisted. “I-I’m [Name], by the way.”

Weird Guy clicked his tongue and plopped back on your futon. “Who knew a civilian could knock me out with just one hit. Name’s Garou.”

“I’m sorry for hitting you twice, Garou. I just got really scared when you attacked me, and, uh…”

Awkwardly you stayed where you stood. It was not until Garou’s stomach growled that you were spurred into action.

“Um, I have food downstairs if you’re hungry…”

Golden eyes looked at you with mischievous glee. “Food’s good right now. Mind if I take a bite at those pretty thighs, too?”

Face red and steam practically hissing out of your ears, you slapped Garou so hard into unconsciousness without having to rely on your fight instinct.

---

to be continued

[hvlfwygod]

shiver | griffin, ben, gabriele, len, patrick

summary: it’s an unusually cold night in New Athens trigger warning: anxiety/panic attack mention, blood

The temperature had dropped lower than expected, and Griffin wished he’d brought his sweatshirt. His exposed arms were covered in goosebumps, and the slight breeze that rustled grass and leaves compelled him to cross them, trying to coax warmth back in.

“Are you cold?” Len asked from their spot beside him and snugly wrapped in a cardigan.

Griffin eyed the clothing enviously. “I just don’t want to make another shirt. I have so many.” His words seemed to carry a flair, like he was bragging. Maybe he wouldn’t have cared another night (it was true he hadn’t paid for an outfit in five years, and that, to him, was noteworthy) but it felt like a particularly cruel jab now, with Len this glum.

If the comment bothered them, though, they didn’t show it. “We can go back now if you want, I feel like I’m just complaining in circles.”

“You’re allowed to complain in circles, though,” Griffin replied with a tiny shrug. Another breeze cut through the uselessly thin t-shirt he was wearing; he valiantly ignored it. “Would you let me complain in circles?”

Len shrugged in return. “Yeah. I know. It’s just frustrating. I know that people have had, like, years and years to train but I feel like I should be picking up on something by now.”

Griffin couldn’t understand why this mattered so much, but he supposed he had a failsafe if he couldn’t hold his own in battle, so he kept this opinion to himself. “I think we all suck at first.” He winced. “Not that you suck. Sorry. Just that...”

“No, I get it. I’m much better at learning like, languages and memorizing words. I need more time.” Len said. “Stage combat was always my weak spot,” they added, chuckling in a resigned way that made Griffin think he was doing a poor job at comforting them.

He shivered again. “Yeah. But I don’t believe that you’re doing as bad as you think you are.”

Len smiled a little. “You’re so cold, dude, let’s go back.”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re literally shaking. It’s late anyway.”

“I don’t care. Here,” Griffin pointed to the spot of orange glowing up ahead. “Lets go sit by the fire. I promise I won’t freeze to death.”

“Okaaaaaaay,” Len said, but the were clearly cheered that Griffin didn’t want to end their night just yet.

When they asked if he was willing to take a midnight stroll through camp, he’d been surprised. He never thought he’d be one of the people they’d turn to when they were feeling down. Maybe everyone else was already asleep, sure, but he chose to believe Len picked him specifically.

Already at the campfire sat a pale, skinny man, staring blankly into the crackling flames. Len, upon seeing him, became serious all over again, as quiet and stiff as when they first started walking. Griffin, upon seeing him, jolted; he had been trying to find a funny video he saw hours earlier and hadn’t looked up from his phone until they were in the circle of benches.

The man’s eyes lifted from the fire and he frowned at their collective expressions. He looked familiar, but Griffin couldn’t recall a name. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“No,” Len answered, at the same time that Griffin said “do you work at the cafe?”

He looked between the two of them for a moment, then nodded. “I do, yeah. I can get out of here if you guys want to be alone.”

Len sat down at the closest seat to them, which happened to be the furthest from the man. Griffin frowned. “I mean... If you want. You live in... town?”

Another small nod. “Yeah. I just liked to um... come here, sometimes.” Another quick glance to Len, and Griffin followed suit. They looked supremely uncomfortable. “But it’s late,” he continued, “so...” He unfolded himself and got to his feet— Griffin wasn’t sure why, but he was expecting someone shorter to emerge from sitting.

"See you around,” Griffin offered by way of goodbye. The man just nodded for a third time, and walked off. Once he was gone, Griffin sat down, exhaling loudly. “That was weird. Do you know him?”

“Not really,” Len said. Already, tension was melting off their shoulders. “My siblings have pointed him out to me, though. They don’t like him. I’m not sure why but from how they talk it’s not good.”

“Yikes.” Griffin stared into the nighttime as if he could still see the man’s retreat. “I bet you could take him, though.”

Len snorted. “You think so?” They smiled at Griffin and he felt himself relaxing again, too. He put a palm flat against Len’s back, between their shoulder blades and moved his hand in little circles, trying to comfort them like his dad might have. The heat from the fire spread over them both.

“Forget him. And forget all that stuff about combat. Tell me about your... hm, your favorite playwright. Living playwright.”

Len scooted a little closer to him, their smile spreading. “Just one?”

                                                 —————

He barely remembered the walk through town, through the woods, through camp, ending at the fire. Which was concerning.

Everything beforehand was still clear, at least, though it got fuzzy around the time he’d been lacing up his shoes. He’d had, gods, a lot of whiskey, repeatedly refilling the glass before reaching the bottom so he never finished his first cup. A simple enough explanation for the gaps in his memory, but no less concerning. Ben never drank that much anymore.

His entire torso was a hopelessly tangled knot of nerves. A rumbling panic followed him like a shadow no matter where he stepped. It loomed on the horizon, pleasantly and casually informing him that he couldn’t outpace it forever. I know, Ben grumbled to— he needed to stop personifying his anxiety, he was talking to himself.

He wondered if Jacob would still be awake when he got back, still sitting in the same place he’d been when Ben announced that he was taking his walk. He wondered if, when he came back inside, Jacob would sense the drifting, uncertain manner of speech, the slight quiver in Ben’s limbs, that always preceded panic attacks. He wondered if Jacob would feel vindicated, then immediately scolded himself for the uncharitable thought.

A whisper of noise caught Ben’s attention (and brought his heart straight up into his throat) but when he swung his gaze around he saw nothing but grass swaying in the breeze. He shivered. “Gods,” he said to no one. “Fuck. Calm down, Bentley.” 

Ben hated to admit it, but he knew Jacob was probably right to essentially bully him into therapy. He hated it. He hated every single morning his roommate cheerily asked if he’d made that appointment yet— which was every morning, and had been for weeks. He hated that it was starting to wear him down.

Damn him, Ben thought bitterly. He regretted explaining a single thing about his childhood, now that it led to this. Jacob had the common decency to not treat him like a porcelain doll— Ben might have moved out if that was the case— but this wasn’t much better.

The worst part was that he couldn’t even tell on Jacob because everyone would agree with him. No, the worst part was that he agreed with Jacob.

But what was he going to tell a therapist? I know exactly what the problem is, the ghost of the person I killed follows me around and I’m starting to lose it.

Alternatively: I’m hallucinating everything, so on top of being a murderer, I’ve already lost it.

He shivered again, and picked up his pace. The trees started to clear, giving way to the edge of New Athens.

Ben could very nearly hear the voices of several friends tell him there was plenty more reasons to go, but he shoved them away. He didn’t want to think about it, because then he would start to think about letting them down. It felt different this time. But everything led back to Colin and it would never stop. His life preceding that afternoon and all the years after circled back to him, over and over. How could he explain why he couldn’t make this useless appointment to Jacob without Colin bubbling up through the floorboards?

A familiar, sharp guilt sprang out from the tangle of nerves. His heart felt impossibly heavy as it thudded too fast in his chest. He felt alone and exposed under the dark sky, no more trees left to conceal him.

Stark, irrational fear greeted him along with the bare sidewalks. He saw people in the distance like hazy, dreamt-up visions, streetlights dangling in the darkness, surreal and unreachable. Please don’t happen right now.

He’d had way too much whiskey. And he was sure, he was certain, he wouldn’t make it home before a revenant found him, dragged him back to shadow. Please, please don’t happen right now.

Shaking, Ben hurried home.

                                                —————

It was uncanny. Gabriele exited the bar— feeling a sudden need for chilly, fresh air— just as a person passed the building. They were rushing, and clearly nervous. It felt like a cue. For a fleeting, disorienting moment, he thought he was seeing a ghost. But... no, this person was far too alive, and Gabriele was almost embarrassed to have made the mistake. Their hands were hidden in their pockets, face tucked down, moving just shy of a jog. It seemed that whoever they were, they were hoping to pass by unseen.

Shame, then, that the sight compelled Gabriele so urgently to follow. His goddess was watching, arched over him, staring down with the endless voids of her eyes. It might be nothing but curiosity on Nut’s part, or a simple observation she wanted him to see. He waited for the figure to get further down the street before he started to walk behind them.

She was saying something, but he didn’t quiet catch it. The ancient tongue did not click in his brain, not when he was so focused on keeping the stranger in sight and looking as cool as ever while doing it. The breeze bustled him along, unseasonably chilly.

His cue quickly seemed to change. Maybe she’d lost interest, or maybe this stranger was just meant to be the first step of many. He could sense his goddess like she was walking with him, a scatter of footfalls echoing in his mind.

Sure enough, the stranger turned left, and Gabriele felt a tug on his elbow, guiding him to the right. He obliged, leaving the stranger behind. Whatever they were running from, he wished them well.

What followed was a half-empty street. Gabriele frowned as he slowed his gait. Many of the homes had lights shining, still; when he passed beneath a window, he heard a quiet croon of music. This street was populated. But the feeling that came to him was incomplete. No, monco— only the Italian served. Incompiuta, maybe, or... interrupted, sospeso.

Gabriele stopped moving altogether. His goddess was whispering again and he strained to hear it. It sounded like her voice was falling directly from the sky, pattering off the sidewalk like large drops of rain. More of the same: guasto, frammentare, jagged and bloody stitches.

Worry moved him now more than curiosity. He found a bench and sat, tucking his legs underneath him. The wood was cool, and he shivered. Taking a deep breath, Gabriele looked up to the sky. Show me. She did. 

Gabriele watched the stars until they came down to him. Endless eyes gave him sight, and he stood, walked, until he reached the banks of a river he did not know. She knew it well, though, and urged him to step in.

Gabriele made it as far as his knees before he heard the chatter. A current begged him to swim home, no... away from home. The water gathered around him, soaking his clothes through.

He was shivering, back on the shore, and something was bleeding. He couldn’t sense what, but he was afraid to move lest he come undone. Something was probing in the back of his mind, hand grasping at air. He felt his coming up to meet it, fingertips just, just missing. His goddess found his palm, placed something soft there. The softness went over his head, cocooned him, and he curled up on his bed. But he knew whatever waited on the other side of the veil could rip him back into inky nothingness at any moment.

The bed became earth, became a lake of scarlet spilling from a body that was and was not his, became an airless void that looked to him like the sky empty of its stars, became a name, a name, a hand grasping through the dirt, through the water. Bones and flesh rebelling against the call, unfolding and unfolding and unfolding. A bird fluttered its wings impossibly, and his heart moved in time. 

Gabriele found himself again, folded over, his hands pressed to his stomach. He trembled, cold. “Co... Cosa dovrei fare?” he asked aloud because he didn’t trust himself to form the thought coherently.

The taste of the river coated his tongue. He felt himself on a boat, rowing. He saw the stitches, bursting and wrong, all wrong, and him, picking them apart.

To this day, Gabriele did not completely comprehend the messages his goddess sent. But he understood a warning when he saw one. He understood a mission when he heard one. “Ho capito, dea. Grazie.”

                                                 —————

They wound up moving to the porch of the Dionysus cabin and Griffin finally stopped acting tough and made himself a new shirt. It looked like the flannel that someone had been wearing in a video Griffin showed Len earlier.

“That’s so cool,” they sighed, pinching the fabric. “I’ll never get used to the fact you can just, do that.”

He shrugged, but Len could see the little smile even in the dark. “Thanks.”

Music was playing from Len’s headphones, which was split between the two of them. Conversation came in small bursts at this point, Ricky Montgomery filling the comfortable silences in between. Griffin was leaning into his hands, eyes closed. Len by contrast was still replaying the frustrating afternoon they’d had. Archery practice had gone... fine. Jesse had even complimented their form, but to Len the words had felt empty. A consolation, something nice to say because everything else was critical.

Their hands still hurt, the memory of cramps in their fingers from hours before. Sighing, they cracked their knuckles.

“Hey.” Griffin’s pointer finger pressed into Len’s shoulder. “Are you on a hamster wheel in your brain right now?”

Len scoffed, their eyes weirdly stinging. They begged themself not to cry right now and their tear ducts blessedly listened. “Yes.”

“I promise you’re making it a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

“I knoooow,” they groaned, putting their head in their hands. “I know, I know. I just... I dunno. I feel like I’m running out of time.” It was Griffin’s turn to scoff, but before he could argue them, Len continued. “Not like, in life. I just... I wanna go to college sooner rather than later. And I’m, I guess, afraid to go back out there and not be ready to hold my own.”

Griffin’s mouth pushed to one side while he thought about this. “Well... You did it before, right?”

“Not really,” Len mumbled. “I never really had a problem until I did, you know? And then I came right here. I was being stalked by this really creepy monster. And I didn’t even get rid of it! Oh, shoot,” they lowered their voice, “we have to be quiet because my sister is asleep. Anyway, I was pretty much useless. Do you know Brett?”

“No.”

“He’s cute. Um... I mean.” Len blushed. “He’s a child of Nike. He’s from Georgia, too. He like, by pure luck, was in town when this was happening. He saw what was going on and rescued me.”

“What? That’s so cool! Sorry.” Griffin nearly whispered. “That’s so cool.”

“Yeah...” Len sighed again. “He was sooo good. He made it look super easy. I just, I feel like I haven’t retained anything since getting here. If I walked out of here tomorrow I’d be a sitting duck.”

“I can teach you a few things if you want,” a voice behind them said.

Headphones flew as Len whipped around and Griffin jumped nearly out of his skin. Patrick waved from his spot in the doorway to Len’s cabin. His shirt was on backwards, and he was lighting a cigarette.

Len was not one to harbor negative emotions about other people. They forgave their middle school bully the first day of freshman year, and couldn’t even bring themself to hate the seniors who ruined the set pieces for 42nd Street. Patrick was no different: Len did not dislike him, but they definitely didn’t trust him. And seeing him here at this time of night felt wrong.

“Um...” they started. Griffin’s hands were fumbling to pause the music. “That’s okay. I’m already getting lessons from Jesse.” They realized belatedly that Patrick was related to Jesse, which— wow, that made no sense.

There was no sound save for the sizzle of Patrick pulling on his cigarette. He breathed out the smoke slowly, his eyes sharp with annoyance at Len’s response. The image made him look like a poor imitation of a very annoyed dragon, Len thought to themself.

“I’m not an archer,” he replied eventually.

“So...”

He took another drag before continuing. “So, pick something else you want to know. There’s more to life than whatever Jesse’s showing you. And if you’re not retaining it, maybe he’s a bad teacher. I could give you the basics for a spear, easy.”

They tried their best to stay stoic, but now Len was annoyed, too. “No thanks. If I want to learn that I already have Tai to show me.” 

Patrick’s face morphed instantly into a scowl. Len felt a terrible satisfaction. Was this petty on their part? Yes. They’d never even discussed training with Tai, but Len wanted Patrick to go and thought this was the best way to make him leave.

He didn’t. Patrick just rolled his eyes and kept smoking. “I see he’s gotten to you, too.”

Griffin crossed his arms over his chest. “Hey man, can you leave us alone?”

Patrick held up the cigarette. “The lady of the house says I have to smoke outside. If you have a problem, take it up with her.”

For some reason, knowing that their sister was up way later than she said she’d be, all over this guy, made Len actually angry. They weren’t sure what to do with their hands, so they copied Griffin, crossing their arms and glaring at the man. He stared back at them, and they huffed. “Why do you even smoke at all?”

Len felt a little invisible line keep their gazes locked on each other, like they were staring down a tunnel and Patrick was at the end of it. They didn’t look away.

Patrick paused. Len expected a comeback, or at least another eye roll, but instead the man leaned closer, frowning as if he hadn’t heard them. “What?”

Len’s nostrils flared. They hadn’t broken eye contact yet, an impressive feat for the child of Dionysus. “Do you think you look cool? Because you don’t. Those things just make you die faster.”

Patrick still looked lost. “Um... What are you saying?” He angled his head toward Griffin but still didn’t move his eyes away. “Did any of that make sense to you?”

Len flushed. How could someone be this condescending? It would never make any sense to them. “Don’t answer him, Griffin.” (Griffin, good boy, didn’t answer Patrick.) “Just forget it, don’t make my sister stay up late, she has work tomorrow.” They turned back around before he could respond, picking up their phone and pretending to search for something.

“What the fu... Oh my god. Whatever.” There was some mumbling behind Len’s back, the scrape of Patrick stomping out his cigarette, and eventually the click of the door as he went back inside.

After a moment of silence, Griffin snorted. “Dude,” he said, breaking down into laughter. “What the hell is going on? Why do we keep running into weirdos tonight?”

Len released a breath and let the anger go, then shook their head. “I have no idea.” The spell of a bad mood broke, and they started giggling, too. “Maybe we should call it a night before we catch a third strange and unusual demigod.”

That only made Griffin laugh harder. He put a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Gods. Yeah, yeah, I should sleep.” He wiped a tear from his face, then slid out of his flannel. “Here, you earned this.”

“Griff—”

“I mean it. I have way too many clothes.”

“You’re gonna be cold!”

“I’m literally two minutes from my cabin. Take it. The longer you take the longer I’m exposed to the elements”

Len felt like they might cry again. “Ugh, fine, gimme.” They snatched it from his hand. “Go home.”

Griffin stood up. “I had a very nice night, Len. Um, thanks. And I hope I helped?”

“You did,” they assured him, standing as well. They were kind of glad that they’d decided, on a whim, to text him first.

“Cool.” They both paused, then went in for a hug at the same time. “I’ll see you at Gender Bender Club.”

Len laughed. “Yes. Can’t wait.”

They stayed out for a while longer after Griffin left, their headphones back in, clutching his gift to their chest. Again, they couldn’t quiet their mind. But instead of the afternoon replaying, now it was the look of utter confusion on Patrick’s face. The way he’d stared back at them for so long, like he’d been stuck in place.

(Had he blinked? Had they? A small shiver travelled up their spine.)

Len shook their head. They weren’t putting energy into worrying about him. As the song faded out, Len stood up and turned to go inside. It really had gotten cold tonight, which was good news for them. They were going to throw open all their windows to let the chilly air inside, and sleep in Griffin’s flannel.

[juniperwindsong]

Necessary Monsters (7/16)

   Summary: "For all her exceptional achievements, the people around her tend to forget she is merely 17. As does the Curse-breaker herself."

   Unable to wheedle an address from Penny, and forced to wait while she and Rowan complete the thousand and one rituals necessary to girls before they can appear in public, it’s noon before Felix finally escapes the Khanna grounds and grudgingly apparates alongside the younger Hufflepuff. Directly into a clump of large, prickly bushes. Grumbling under his breath about the apparition skills of teenagers, Felix attempts to disentangle himself from the clinging branches. A sharp tug at his sleeve yanks him deeper into the foliage.

   “Ouch! Haywood, what the-“  

   “Shhh!” Penny holds a finger to her lips and gives a vicious shush, then peeks cautiously between the leaves.

   Fortunately, Felix now has several years experience maintaining awkward positions in unpleasant undergrowth. He crouches as still as possible, peering over Penny’s shoulder to determine where they are. He can see a wrought iron grille just in front of their bush and behind it the occasional passing muggle motor car.

   Rowan shifts noisily next to him, trying to achieve a more comfortable position and dislodging a rather large, spindly-legged spider from its web in the dense leaves. And Felix is grateful once more for the years he's spent in Peru where he’s learned to suppress a particular phobia he'd prefer to keep private. Still, he's unable to prevent his body tensing in alarm as the spider scrambles up Rowan's arm just centimetres away from his face.

   “Is this really necessary?” Felix hisses.

   Without replying, Penny pokes her wand through the branches, muttering a spell under her breath, and Felix hears the noise of creaking metal.

   “C'mon,” she whispers, and pushes through the tight greenery. Rowan follows quickly, knocking the spider from its perch, and Felix has to fling himself forward to avoid it, scrambling gracelessly through the newly parted grille and into the road.

   The three of them cross the street, packed with expensive-looking parked motors, and stride as casually as possible down a walk in front of a row of stately town-homes. Penny leads the way, pulling leaves and twigs from her hair, until they reach the very end of the street the plaque declares to be Chester Square. Glancing up and down the walk, Penny taps her wand against a jet-black gate. It swings open soundlessly, and Felix pushes to the fore. He sprints up the steps, and raps hard on a door the same gleaming shade of black as the gate. It takes several more successively violent knocks before it finally swings inward.

   "Wotcher," says the pink-haired Tonks in mild surprise. She looks from Felix to the girls waiting in his shadow, then makes an exasperated movement with her shoulders like a sort of full-body eye roll. "This a kidnap, then?"

   "Where is Juniper?" demands Felix.

   In answer, Tonks nudges the door open more fully, then walks away without a word, leaving the three on the doorstep to invite themselves in. Without waiting for Penny or Rowan, Felix follows on Tonks' heels, past a wide staircase and down an elegantly decorated corridor. The Hufflepuff girl is clad in an interesting assortment of mismatched garments Felix can only assume serve as pyjamas, in spite of the hour, and in stark contrast with the understated hallway and the magnificent kitchen it leads into.

   A glittering white candelabra illuminates counter-tops of pristine white marble facing an enormous fireplace bordered by a pure white mantle. There's hardly any other colour to be found in the entire room, except Tonks' clothes reflected over and over again in the mirrored cabinets.

   "Who was it?" asks the girl seated in a high-backed white chair at the counter. Felix vaguely recognises Tulip Karasu, the renowned Ravenclaw trouble-maker.

   "The Juniper Rescue Squad," replies Tonks in amusement, throwing herself into the chair beside Tulip with a force that causes it to wobble dangerously. She pulls a plate toward her and begins tucking in.

   Tulip turns to inspect the intruders. Her eyes linger for a long moment on Penny, face inscrutable, before noticing Felix.

   "Who's the bloke?"

   Tonks answers through a mouthful of bacon. "That's Philip."

   "Felix," corrects Felix.

   "That," agrees Tonks with a nod. She covers her mouth with a hand as she speaks around her food. "You remember Juniper's old prefect? The one who sent us home from hospital?"

   Tulip inspects Felix thoroughly, eyes lingering on him in a way that makes him distinctly self-conscious. Glancing at his reflection in the mirrored cabinet opposite, Felix realises he's covered in all the dirt, sweat, and dragon-grime of the ten hour shift he completed before receiving Khanna's letter. In his rush to check on Juniper, his unkempt state had completely escaped him.

   "Chester Davies said you work with dragons now," Tulip mentions thoughtfully. "What are you doing here?"

   Felix makes a half-hearted attempt to slick back his hair, but it does little to alter his overall appearance.

   "I'm here to see Juniper," he answers, with as much dignity as he can muster, wondering if he can surreptitiously clean himself before she sees him. The reunion he's envisioned with Juniper does not include him smelling of dragon dung.

   Tulip makes a tiny noise of disgust and tilts her head to gaze around Felix.

   "Penny Haywood, do give it a rest. She's perfectly alright."

   Penny emerges from the hallway behind Felix, little spots of colour appearing on her cheeks.

   "Then she'll be perfectly alright back at Rowan's. Where she's supposed to be."

   "Where’s the fun in that?" winks Tulip.

   Tonks leans her chair back to see around her friend. "I'm sure she'll be ready to go back soon. She just needs to blow off a bit of steam, you know?" She shoves another slice of bacon into her mouth. "You can't really blame her. All she's done the last six years is work. Solving mysteries, saving the school?"

   "Battling bullies," chimes in Tulip, lifting a white tea cup to her lips.

   "Yeah, and assassins!"

   "Dueling dragons."

   "And that thing with the werewolf, whats-his-n- whoops!" Tonks' chair legs overbalance and she topples backwards giving a small yip of surprise. 

   With an exasperated gasp, Penny rushes across the room to Tonks' aid. Felix notices an odd look flicker over Tulip's small, fine features as she watches Penny takes Tonks' hand and pull her up from the floor. She turns away again and stares unreadably into her teacup.

   "Plus, she even cares about her marks now and being prefect and nonsense like that," Tulip concludes, pronouncing the word prefect with utter disdain. "She's been too pent up for years. She deserves some fun."

   "So, playing tricks on boys at parties, completely ignoring the International Statute of Secrecy; that’s your idea of fun?" asks Penny skeptically as she rights Tonks' chair.

   "Not just boys," says Tulip mildly. She locks eyes with a blushing Penny, and there's an undercurrent to their gaze Felix can't identify. It doesn't appear to have anything to do with Juniper, however, and it therefore means nothing to him. He clears his throat loudly and adopts his most imperious tone.

   "Would someone kindly tell me where Juniper actually is?"

   But the words have hardly left his mouth when he hears dull footfalls in the hallway.

    "That’s our sleeping beauty now," Tonks says cheerfully.

   Felix whirls around, and fortune seems to have a vested interest in his dignity this afternoon as it ensures the door frame is just behind him when he suddenly stumbles backward, preventing him landing in a heap on the floor. There's nothing to be done about his slack-jawed stare, however, as Juniper shuffles past him toward the counter like a zombie, eyes half closed and crusted over in sleep.

   If Felix has ever seen Juniper out of her school or Quidditch uniform, then it's only in her own personal dress code of jeans and jumper. He has certainly never seen her in skimpy sleep shorts and overlarge t-shirt that hangs off her otherwise bare shoulder. He knows there are far more important things to be concerned about, such as the heavy bags under Juniper's eyes and the shaking in her fingers as she fumbles with the high backed chair beside Tonks, or the fact that she appears to have lost a stone. But for the moment, the whole of Felix's attention is occupied by the sight of Juniper's naked legs. 

   Juniper manages to collapse heavily into the chair, then slumps across the counter, head resting on her arms.

   "Oi. You've got company,” Tonks says enthusiastically, nudging her limp arm. Juniper gives a tired grunt, not looking up.

   "See. She sleeps better after a night out," Tulip says in triumph, speaking to Penny once again as though Juniper can't hear them. But Penny is oblivious to anything but Juniper now, her face full of open concern.

   The flawless white tea pot on the counter tips itself over smoothly into an unused cup. The little teacup then trots across to Juniper's tangled heap of arms without spilling a drop and stops, waiting as patiently as a well-trained dog. Juniper lifts her head the minimal amount required to sip at the rim of the cup without lifting a hand. For a full minute, the room is silent except the quiet sounds of slurping tea.

   Penny, still standing awkwardly behind the line of chairs, casts a meaningful look at Felix, waiting for him to take the lead, but Felix is too preoccupied with the intriguing amount of skin revealed by Juniper's gaping shirt to remember exactly why they're here in the first place. From behind him, Rowan clears her throat.

   “Juniper?"

   Juniper grunts again without any clear inflection. She tilts her head very slightly in Rowan's direction, but still doesn't open her eyes.

   "Um...Felix is here. He came to see you." Rowan tries to infuse excitement into her voice, but her hands clenching and unclenching in front of her give away her nerves.

   Slowly, Juniper pushes off from the table and focuses bleary, bloodshot eyes on the doorway. Felix's heart skips a beat, but her gaze crosses him and then Rowan without any reaction, as if his presence were nothing more remarkable than a post owl.

   "How are you feeling?" asks Penny anxiously.

   Juniper coughs around another swallow of tea before mumbling, "I've massive headache."

   "Oh, right!" exclaims Tonks, straightening up and fishing around in a hidden pocket. She produces a small, clear bottle and sets it with a thud next to Juniper's teacup. "Hangover cure's a summer essential. Never be without."

   Juniper stares at the corked bottle, and Felix's blood cools enough for him to put thoughts together coherently. He moves to come to Juniper's aid, but Penny beats him to it.

   "I've got it," she says eagerly, reaching around Juniper for the bottle.

   Juniper jumps from her chair as quickly as if it were on fire. Penny flinches at the sudden movement and the rest of the room stills, all eyes now on Juniper in varying levels of concern.

   "It's fine," she mumbles, tucking her hands into her armpits. “Just need a bit of air." She takes a few stumbling steps backward before darting from the room with unexpected speed, given her listless entrance.

   Penny turns and looks helplessly at Tonks. Her lips move and it sounds like a question, but Felix can't process the words. Ignoring the low, serious murmurs passing between the girls in the room, Felix hastens past the chairs to follow Juniper out the swinging door.

-

   For a moment, Felix wonders if the door was a port-key and if he hasn't been transported somewhere else, an entirely different continent perhaps. He’s not overly familiar with Belgravia, but he feels certain its houses rarely contain sprawling, immaculately manicured Japanese tea gardens. Looking up, however, he can see the same tall buildings that surround the Karasu townhome over the tops of the delicately swaying trees. There’s no ambient city noise, just the trickle of the river, and what sounds like a distant waterfall.

   Blinking in the sudden warm sunlight, Felix lifts a hand to shade his eyes, searching for Juniper. He catches sight of her a short distance away, standing motionless on a graceful wooden bridge overlooking the quiet stream. He walks cautiously toward her across stepping stones nestled between precisely arranged flowers.

   If it weren't for Penny and Rowan's stories, and her strange behavior in the kitchen, Felix would have believed Juniper miraculously recovered. Her colour has returned to normal, and even her scars have largely faded. Preoccupied with drinking in all her newly revealed skin, Felix is a few steps behind Juniper before he notices something else.

   "You cut your hair."

   He doesn't mean to say the words aloud. They simply fall from his mouth as he stares stupidly at the back of Juniper's head. Her hair, always long and wavy even when pulled back, now just barely touches her shoulders. Felix isn’t sure how he feels about the change.

   "Fancied something different,” Juniper explains without turning around. "What are you doing here?"

   Her voice is eerie, like she's reading from a script she's only just seen. Playing the character of someone pleasant and cheerful, but unable to act the part convincingly. It sets the hairs on the back of Felix's neck on end. He shakes himself mentally and tries to remember all the comforting things he’s planned to say while waiting in the Khanna kitchen just an hour ago.

    "I...was worried about you. You stopped writing.”

   "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. Got busy," Juniper says, stage directions reading casually upbeat. Felix’s nerves twang with each forced syllable.

   "Rowan wrote me.” He takes a step closer. “She's worried about you as well. "

   "She needn't be. I'm fine."

   Felix's eye-roll is instinctual. "That’s ridiculous. You-“

   Juniper turns to face Felix. And it isn’t her wide, false smile that scares him, it's her eyes. They look like the empty windows of an abandoned house; all light behind them gone. Juniper's eyes have always been fiery, bringing an otherwise average face to life in a compelling way, even at thirteen. Between her newly shorn hair and her strangely blank eyes, Felix might have mistaken her for a completely different person.

   "You - you're-" he stutters, but no comment he can make on her appearance sounds like a compliment. "Rowan says you’re not yourself lately.”

   It takes a moment for Felix to interpret her strange chuffing noise as a laugh.

   "What, because I wouldn't sit around on her farm the whole summer doing nothing?" 

    A gentle breeze blows across the trees. It feels good to Felix, the direct sunlight beginning to bear down on him uncomfortably, but Juniper shivers and wraps her arms around herself. 

   "Look, I just needed a change of pace, alright? Tonks and Tulip spend their summer holidays in the city, going to parties, having fun. I thought I might try that for once. I would've invited Rowan but it's not really her scene."

   "You're supposed to be resting. Recovering. Staying safe."

   Juniper's snort of laughter contains a higher than usual proportion of bitterness. "I don't see why I'm any safer out in the middle of nowhere than in the city surrounded by people."

   "Dumbledore thinks-"

   "Dumbledore thought we'd be safe at school and all. Look how that turned out. No offence, but he's not exactly my go-to for safety tips anymore."

   Her false cheer begins to dissolve under the heat of obvious anger. It isn't a usual emotion for her, but it is at least genuine, and nearer the reaction Felix has expected. Heartened, he reaches between them to gently grasp her shoulder; the one still covered by thin cloth.

   "Juniper..."

   Juniper flinches. Felix can feel muscle tensing under his hand. She doesn't pull away, but his grip on her arm feels suddenly awkward rather than comforting, and he's unsure whether or not to let go.

   "Juniper," he tries again. "That...that group could still be after you. I know it's difficult to think about right now with everything you've been through but, if they find you-"

   "Why would they still be after me? I'm hardly a threat anymore." Bitterness salivates from her words. She holds up her hands in front of her, knocking Felix's loose from her shoulder. "I can hardly hold my wand anymore, let alone cast anything. So, they've got what they wanted. My curse-breaking career is effectively over. And any other career I might have had."  

   The words themselves seem to throb with pain, causing an ache in Felix he can't fully understand.

   "Rowan thinks I'm not myself, because myself is always working: saving everyone and solving everything. But you know, when I was doing that all anyone ever said was for me to stop. And now that I want to listen to them, they're freaking out! I just want to have a bit of fun like regular girls my age do over the summer. Is that too much ask?”

   Felix would have to concede this point if it weren't for the fact that her demeanor isn't that of a person enjoying themselves, having a relaxing, stress-free summer. Still, as someone guilty of encouraging Juniper to focus on herself instead of curse-breaking, he has to scramble for a counter-argument.

   “What about school?"

   Juniper shrugs carelessly. “What's the point?"

   "The point? Juniper, you have NEWTs this year. How do you expect to be a healer if-"

   "Ugh!" For a moment, Juniper's eyes flash with angry fire. "You and Rowan and Penny! You all want to tiptoe around me and pretend to encourage me about my future, like I don't know that I can't take the NEWTs and I can't be a healer anymore. I'm not an idiot, Felix. It's obvious I won't recover well enough to make anything like the marks I need to get into St Mungo's."

   Felix is frozen in the wake of her bitter, scalding fury. It's been a very long time since he's seen Juniper this angry at him, and much like the last time, he has the feeling it has little to do with himself. Still, he can feel defensive anger raise a tired head. He's risked everything to be here for her, to help her, and she ought to appreciate that. Felix swallows around the lump in his throat, trying to keep himself calm.

   "Are you still seeing your healers regularly? Healer Early said-”

    Juniper cuts him off with an exasperated growl.

   “Look, Felix, thank you for your concern but I’ve got this covered. I’ll be just fine. I always am.”

   Turning briskly, Juniper starts off down the bridge, and Felix panics. He doesn't have the first idea what to say to fix this, to fix her, but he knows he has to say something. There's always been a good, rational reason not to speak, but he's sick of playing it safe. He's come too far to let her walk away again.

   “Juniper, stop!” Felix calls after her, and remarkably, she does. Felix closes the distance between them, until he’s close enough to count the pale scars across her forehead. Heart pounding, he cups her face in his hands, not caring what he must look like or smell like or whether the right time to do this is in Tulip Karasu's parents’ garden.

   "Please, just...listen. I understand, this is-"

   "How could you possibly understand any of this?" Juniper interrupts, spitting the words into his face. Felix winces, back tracking quickly.

   "Okay, you're right. I don't - I don't understand." He strokes her cheek with his thumb, trying to impress his feelings on her through their layers of skin. "But I want to. I want to help."

   Felix can feel Juniper’s trembling fingers encircle his, and his heart races. But she only tugs lightly, pulling his hands away from her face.

   "Then leave me alone."

   Her jaw is set, the shutters behind her eyes firmly closed. She drops his hands, and turns her back on him again. This time, Felix lets her go.

-

   The kitchen is empty when Felix steps back through the swinging door. He marches through the glaringly white room, down the hall, and almost makes it to the front door when a voice hails him from behind. He pauses only briefly, entirely indisposed to any further conversation.

   “Wait!” cries Tonks' voice. “How’d it go? Did she-” She catches sight of Felix’s frozen mask and draws an accurate conclusion. “I guess she’s not ready to go back then.”

   Felix regards her coldly. "No."

   Tonks bites her lip, her hair fading to a dirty blonde; the first sign of low-spirits Felix has seen in the brash Hufflepuff.

   "So...what do we do now?"

   Felix's eyebrow raise is particularly contemptuous, and Tonks' shuffles her feet uncomfortably.

   "Look, I'm not saying we were wrong. Juniper definitely needed to get out a bit, but...I don't know if it's really helping anymore."

   "What do you mean?" asks Felix in spite of himself.

   "I dunno, she's just..." Tonks shrugs expressively, "She gets sort of weird and jumpy when we're out now. I don't really know how to describe it." 

  Voices can be heard approaching the hall and Tonks looks around, suddenly nervous, as if their conversation were something illicit. She reaches into a pocket hidden somewhere in her strange ensemble and pulls out a scrap of paper. She thrusts it into Felix's unwilling hand.

   "That's where we'll be tonight. Come by, you'll see what I mean. She might...be a bit more reasonable later. "

   Felix shakes his head briskly. "I have quite enough on my plate at the moment without anymore teenage drama."

   Tonks furrows her eyebrows indignantly, hair becoming a fiery red, but Felix overrides her hot retort. "I will write to Professor Snape and let him know that Juniper is once again refusing to follow the Headmaster's explicit instructions for her safety, and it will be up to them to decide her fate."

   Without waiting for a reply, Felix yanks the front door open and sweeps from the townhouse, Tonks' proffered parchment still crumpled in his hand.

-

   The first order of business is Diagon Alley, and his letter to Snape; just a few brief lines containing Juniper's current location and her refusal to return to safety. Then, the Leaky Cauldron for a room and a wash. A long, hot bath is enticing, but out of the question, so Felix opts for a quick sluice. No change of clothes gives him an excuse to return to Diagon Alley where he wastes an hour wandering in and out of shops, perusing racks of robes he has no use for in Romania, examining everything minutely, pestering shopkeepers with questions; anything to keep his thoughts and feelings at bay.

   Exhaustion creeps over him, but Felix is afraid to sleep. There's a swell of misery waiting at the edges of his mind threatening to overwhelm him if he's still even for a moment. He walks the length of the street and back again twice, before his feet ache too badly to continue. Panic surfaces when he finally re-enters the Leaky Cauldron, unable to think of any further distraction. He's considering the soporific effects of a pint, when he notices the tall, black-robed figure speaking in low tones to Tom at the bar.

   "Professor Snape?"

   The Hogwarts Potions Master’s black eyes meet Felix's and he jerks his head to indicate a door off the side of the pub's main room.

   A half-hour later, sequestered in a private parlour, Felix finishes relating a more complete account of the day's events to the Slytherin Head of House, and stares down at his second cup of un-drunk tea that day. Only hours ago Felix would have been mortified to relate to anyone, let alone Snape, the lengths he's gone to ensuring Juniper's well-being, not to mention her subsequent rejection. But his pride has temporarily fled, replaced by weary, stomach-churning grief, and he finds he doesn't care what Snape thinks of him just at present.

   "You look rather the worse for wear yourself," Snape finally says after several minutes dusty silence, a jerk of his eyebrow serving to indicate Felix's work attire.

   It's more than a little galling to have his personal appearance remarked upon by Hogwarts' infamous greasy-haired professor, and Felix has to bite his tongue to prevent a snide remark escaping. The irascibility coursing through him is desperate to unleash itself on someone, but he's not so starved for sense that he considers Snape a reasonable target. Felix contents himself with merely glaring as fiercely as he dares at the professor. It has no visible effect.

   "I did come here straight off a ten hour shift. I've not slept in-"

   “Then perhaps it would be best if you took some time to rest."

    Snape takes a dry, crumbling biscuit from a plate on the table and chews, momentarily distracting Felix. He knows theoretically that Snape must eat, but the sight is still mildly unsettling.

   "I can't leave for Romania until Monday," Felix says absently. "That's the next scheduled portkey and entry into the Reserve is strictly regulated. So I've got the weekend to sleep, I guess." 

   Felix turns to his own plate. His stomach grumbles moodily, and he knows it's been at least a day since he's eaten, but nothing looks particularly appetizing. He opts for a small sip of his now lukewarm tea, and grimaces. What he wouldn't give for a strong, Peruvian coffee...

   "I meant, perhaps you ought to rest before speaking to Miss Windsong this evening."

   Felix stares at the Professor over his cup, nonplussed.

   "Why would I speak to her again? I've just told you the whole story, weren't you-" Snape's eyes flash a warning, stopping Felix's growing frustration in its tracks. "I mean - she obviously doesn't want me. My help, I mean. She was quite clear on the subject. "

   Snape’s fingers drum against the arm of the chair. He wets his lips, hesitating in a manner Felix has never seen from the imperturbable Professor.

   "Sometimes, in...trying circumstances...people may say things they do not mean. And later regret." Snape breathes in loudly through his nose as if this simple pronouncement cost him a great deal of energy. "I would encourage you to give Miss Windsong another chance."

   Felix tries to see through Snape's iron mask to what could possibly make him so uncomfortable.

   "Professor, do you think...could this just be a side effect of the curse she was under? That that's what's making her act like this now? Say...say things she doesn't really mean?"

   Snape shakes his head. "It seems more plausible that this is the side effect of a life spent in dire circumstance all catching up with Miss Windsong at once. There's a reason she has always been encouraged, not to mention expressly ordered, to focus on more age appropriate concerns. For all her exceptional achievements," Snape pronounces these words with exquisite sarcasm, "The people around her tend to forget she is merely 17. As does Miss Windsong, herself.”

   Felix isn't quite sure he understands, but he feels foolish admitting it. At a loss for what to say, he takes another sip of cold tea. Cup clenched in his hands, he closes his eyes, wondering hopelessly whether this entire day might not all be a dream. Perhaps the ridiculous alarm clock hasn't rung at all, and he's still lying on the floor of his unpacked room, sleeping through his shift. It's a mark of how god-awful this day as been that missing work seems preferable.

   "Why is Miss Windsong so important to you?"

    Felix's eyes snap open. He knows the heat rising in his face would give him away even to a less perceptive audience, but he can't stop his frantic search for a plausible cover. "I don't - that is... what do you m-"

   "You know perfectly well what I mean," snaps Snape impatiently. "You do not attend the Quidditch matches of every student you knew at school. Or any, as a matter of fact." 

   Snape leaves the statement hanging in the air between them. And Felix, exhausted and miserable, finds the words tumbling out without thought.

   "I love her. I have for years, I think. She's the first real friend I ever had." He drops his head into his hands. "I tried to tell her at that stupid match. And then afterwards, before all this...this whole mess happened. And now...now she doesn't even want me here."

   Felix can only imagine the look of abject disgust on Snape's face, as his own is still buried in his fingers. He knows he should feel embarrassed at unburdening himself on the famously unsentimental professor, but, surprisingly, it's relief that overwhelms him. His confession has lifted a weight from his chest he was unaware of. For the first time in months, Felix finds himself breathing easily.

   "If that is truly how you feel," Snape's voice sounds oddly tentative. "Then you should not give up on Miss Windsong so quickly."

   Felix lifts his head, mouth slightly open. It's as if another person, standing just behind Snape, has spoken.

    "You must tell her. In a way she cannot misunderstand. You will regret it if you do not. And I assure you there is nothing worse than to live forever with that regret."

   Felix blinks, trying to reconcile this advice with the person offering it. Before he can begin to form a response, however, Snape stands briskly.

   "I will inform the Auror Moody of Miss Windsong's whereabouts..." Snape wets his lips again. "Tomorrow. I imagine he will want to escort her back to the Khanna farm immediately, willingly or not. Which gives you the evening." The Potions Master billows from the room, leaving Felix to interpret his words as he will. 

    Absent-mindedly reaching for a biscuit, Felix decides it’s imperative he reconcile with Juniper, if only because he can’t think of a single other person who will ever believe his story of receiving romantic advice from Severus Snape. 

-

Chapter 8 |  Masterpost.

[empyreanwritings]

I Swear to Drunk, I’m Not God

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k 

Warnings: Like, one bad word and a very cute, drunk reader

Feedback is always welcome (: x

          Steve walked aimlessly through the compound. Everyone had gone to bed already, but he couldn't bring himself to turn in yet. His mind kept racing. You were on a date with one of the interns Stark hired for the summer. You told everyone you'd be back at the compound by ten. It was now eleven, and it was driving him crazy. He didn't know why you wanted to go on the date in the first place. Interns never stuck around for long. Why would you want to get committed to someone who would leave? It was ridiculous.

           He checked his phone once more, hoping he heard from you. When he saw that you hadn't texted, he sighed and decided to go to bed. Nat suggested earlier that you'd be out all night if you enjoyed your date. The thought of you sleeping with someone made his stomach turn. He stayed up hoping to see you and prove Nat wrong but staring at the clock and watching time pass by made him feel a lot worse.

           "Shit!"

           Steve stopped in his tracks when he heard your voice. You stood there in front of his bedroom door, cradling a broken heel in your hands. You stumbled trying to take your other heel off, and he ran over to catch you before you fell.

           "Oops!" You slurred as you steadied yourself in his arms. "I'm sorry, I wasn't watchin' where I was going."

           "You're drunk," Steve laughed.

           "Ten shots of tequila wasted, actually!"

           His hands gently gripped onto your waist, keeping you from tumbling to the ground again. He had to keep himself from laughing when you began poking at his chest and making robot sounds. This was only the second time he'd ever seen you drunk. The first was during Stark's Boozy Christmas party. You helped Thor clear an entire bottle of his Asgardian liquor. By the end of the night, you had Nat tuck you into the bath tub and fell asleep.

           It wasn't that you tried to avoid getting drunk. You had a higher tolerance than most people, which surprised everyone. You seemed like the type to get tipsy off one beer, but you could drink most of the men under the table. Your high tolerance and love for drinking games is how you bonded with Sam when you first met him. You two were best friends now.

           "Why don't we get you back to your room?" Steve suggested when you finally finished poking at his "buttons."

           You threw your head back and whined loudly. "I don't want to! My room is so far!"

           "Okay, you can sleep in my bed. I'm not that tired anyways."

           You held your arms up in the air and bounced on your toes. He knew exactly what you wanted. You wanted to be carried to bed because you were too lazy to walk. Apparently, you resorted to being a five-year-old when you were drunk, but he couldn't deny that you looked adorable.

           He scooped you into his arms and smiled when you rested your head in the crook of his neck. You smelled faintly of cotton candy, and it took everything in him not to smell your hair. It would look creepy.

           "I'm guessing the date didn't go as planned?"

           You sighed dramatically. "He talked about monster trucks the whole time. He even made sound effects."

           "Sound effects?"

           You nodded. Your date wanted you to get the full effect of what it was like when the monster trucks crashed into each other. People stared. He jumped up and pretended to cheer for the non-existent trucks that were in front of you. You downed two more shots of tequila. It was a great date if the goal of the date was to get drunk and forget about it. The upside to it all was that he paid for everything.

           Steve smirked at this bit of information. He never got the courage to ask you out, so it drove him crazy every time you accepted a date with someone else. He'd watch you leave and feel his heart clench. He'd see you return with a huge smile on your face and his stomach turned into a knot. Every date could be a chance for you to find your soulmate. To hear that this date went south made him feel a little bit better.

           He'd never admit that out loud, though.

           He placed you on the edge of his bed and went to grab a t-shirt from his dresser. You looked around his room in awe. You never stepped inside his room before. Usually, you both would hang out in the gym or in the common area. Sometimes you'd go out to grab food, but his room? It always felt off limits. It was his personal space, and he was letting you invade it. Something about that made your heart swell with happiness.

           "Arms up, please." Steve had to use his Captain America voice to get you to listen to him.

           You giggled at how serious he seemed and lifted your arms up. He helped you shimmy out of your dress, which was a lot more difficult than he thought it would be. You kept squirming and laughing about your arm getting stuck in the hole more than once. When he finally got your dress off, you threw yourself back onto his bed and refused to let him put the shirt on you.

           His entire face grew red at the sight of you sprawled out in nothing but your bra and underwear. He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling and held the shirt out for you to grab. He begged you to put it on. He even offered you fifty dollars to put the shirt on, but you refused. You kept going on and on about how free you felt without clothes. He silently hoped you wouldn't take anything else off to feel freer.

           And if anyone walked in right now, he'd have no way to explain his way out of this.

           "Can you please put the shirt on? I promise you will still be free with the shirt on."

           "Why don't you love me?"

           "W-what?" Steve coughed to cover up his surprise. "I don't understand your question."

           You sighed and moved back towards the edge of the bed. He didn't want to be rude and look at you while you were half-naked, but he couldn't ignore the heartbroken look you were giving him.

           "I've been on dates with a taxidermist, a mime, and a monster truck enthusiast! I want to give up because I know my love life will probably go down hill from here, but I don't want to wait around for you to love me! I want to find someone who makes me feel the way you make me feel." You sniffled. "But I haven't yet, and I don't think I will."

           "Y/N, I-"

           You threw your hands up into the air. "And you won't even make a move on me when I'm at my hottest! This is the best set of lingerie I have!"

           Steve knelt in front of the bed and took your hands in his. He brought your knuckles to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on them. Your face heated up at the sudden contact. This was the first time he ever showed affection towards you. At least, it was the first time you noticed. He always tried to make subtle moves, but you were always oblivious to them.

           "You are far too drunk to consent to anything right now, and that's why I haven't made a move, doll," he whispered. "How 'bout you put on my shirt, and I will give you the best cuddle of your life tonight. Then, tomorrow, we can talk about this."

           You bit your lip and nodded. The odds of you remembering this moment in the morning were very slim, but you'd be able to piece it all together when you woke up next to the man you've always wanted. You knew you would die of embarrassment when you were sober. He'd also probably never let you live it down. But right now? This was the best moment of your life.

Part Two

[honeyedhoseok]

Captured [Part 1]

Genre | fluff, angst at the end

Word Count | 4.1K

Summary | Jimin picks Y/N up from school then takes her to meet his demon friend, JB.

Warnings | Jimin and Y/N being all cute and bantery <3

A/N | This is the first half of Captured! I know it ends on a cliffhanger--I’m sorry--but I’ll hopefully have the second part out soon, depending on how you guys like this :)

The clock on the wall of your classroom ticks dangerously slow, tormenting you with its unhurried movements. It’s positioned right above the whiteboard that your AP US History teacher is writing on so it still looks like you’re paying attention to the lecture on Industrialism, though your gaze is solely focused in on the hand on that tells you you have just eight minutes left before class is over. 

You pack up silently with the rest of your classmates as it gets closer to 2:45, eyes still trained on the board as if you’re listening. You’ve done this routine a thousand times, even though your teacher keeps insisting that she dismisses you and the bell does not, you’re still out of your seat and out the door as the bell sounds, your book bag slung over your shoulder and bouncing along your back as you walk. 

You reach the parking lot of the school in record time, your hurried feet taking you to the pick up area, your heart beating faster in your chest as your eyes scan over the parking lot for him. 

You’re still looking when your classmate Yugyeom comes up beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he hitches his bookbag up higher. His overgrown bangs sweep the tips of his eyelashes as he looks down at you, a smile gracing his child-like features. “Hey, Y/N. You in a rush today?” 

“Yeah,” you mutter, eyes still straining to find his car amongst the crowd. “Someone is supposed to be picking me up, but I can’t find them…” 

“Oh.” Yugyeom’s smile droops a little. “Who is it?” 

You ignore him, moving a few paces forward and standing on your tiptoes to see over the sea of heads, cursing the population of your school and your genetics for not allowing you to be taller. It’s cold outside and you’re getting irritated, about to just take one for the team and walk home—when you see him. 

The crowd of people on the lawn seem to part as Jimin makes his way towards you, girls and guys alike looking back over their shoulders as he grazes past them, his gaze only focused on you. A lazy smirk adorns his mouth and you want to smack it right off—he knows exactly what he’s doing to the high schoolers around him as he runs a hand aimlessly through his hair, letting the silvery strands fall back perfectly into place as if he’s trained them that way. He’s wearing sunglasses that make him look effortlessly chic, though you know it’s to cover up the hungry, crimson irises that settle behind the dark lenses. 

“Oh, him,” you can hear the crestfallen way Yugyeom speaks about Jimin, and you finally turn around to look at him. He’s watching Jimin too just as everyone else is, the corners of his lips falling into a frown. “He came to the Halloween party, right? What was his name again?” 

“Jimin,” you respond, loving the way it rolls off of your tongue, and fighting the way your mouth wants to break out into a ear-splitting grin at the thought of him. “Are you, uh, waiting on someone, too?” You glance around at the few stragglers still waiting for their parents to pick them up, looking for signs of Yugyeom’s friends. 

Yugyeom straightens then, puffing his chest out a little as if remembering his initial mission. “Oh! Um, no. I was actually going to ask if you were busy this weekend, and if um, maybe you wanted to—” 

He’s cut off as Jimin finally sidles up beside you, his hand sneaking down to where yours is to intertwine your fingers together. The contact shoots electricity up your arm, and you’re frozen for a few moments at how natural it feels. Yugyeom’s eyes zone in on your hands, his question ultimately forgotten as he swallows nervously, the knot in his throat bobbing a little. “Oh, h-hey, Jimin,” he stutters out. 

“What’s up?” Jimin grins, and you swear you hear a twinge of laughter in his voice. He squeezes your palm encased in his own, his shoulder brushing yours as he murmurs just to you, “You ready to go?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him and snatch your hand out of his, hooking your thumbs under the straps of your bookbag instead. “Yeah, just a sec.” You turn back to the boy shuffling his feet in front of you, “Hey Yugyeom, weren’t you asking me something?” 

Yugyeom shakes his head quickly, his gaze dropping towards his sneaker-clad feet. “No, it was nothing, never mind . . . Have a good weekend, Y/N!” And he’s off before you can say anything, shuffling away to his own car that’s one of the few left in the nearly-empty parking lot. 

You narrow your eyes at Jimin immediately as you focus back on him, noticing the corner of his mouth that’s still upturned into a smirk. “What was that?” 

“What was what?” he asks, feigning ignorance as his eyebrows shoot over the rim of his glasses, his hands coming up in defense. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” 

He laughs then, the melody wrapping around your ears as he throws an arm around your shoulders, leading you towards the car he’s driving today—a black, sleek town car that’s idling on the curb of the pick-up line. “What was that kid’s name? Yugi-oh?” 

“Yugyeom,” you correct irritably. “Are you saying you did that on purpose?” When he doesn’t respond and instead opens the door to the car for you to get in, you can feel your temper rising. “Jimin! Were you listening to our conversation?” 

“Y/N, I’m never listening,” he sighs heavily, rounding the car to get in on his side. “I can hear everything, remember? I just happened to zone in on him as he was struggling to ask you out. It’s not my fault okay?” 

You slide in, slamming the car door and throwing your book bag in the back seat as Jimin puts the car in drive. “He was not asking me out.” 

“Yeah, and I bought this car with the money I earned from my part time job,” he snickers, whipping out of the parking lot at a speed that has you pressed back into the seat, gripping at the seat belt that tightens against your chest. “Are you hungry?” 

He doesn’t give you time to answer because he’s already heard the growling of your stomach, loud enough to pick up on without the aid of his supernatural ears. “Never mind,” he sighs. “I’ll stop somewhere before I take you home. I was supposed to meet a friend, but I guess you can just come with me.” 

His tone is meant to be condescending, but it dances around the edges of endearment instead, his eyes light and lips soft around the edges as he speaks. Jimin was constantly trying to act as though your presence is a burden to him, but then again, he was the one asking to pick you up from school a few days a week and not the other way around. 

“I get to meet someone? Another demon?” You grin a little in victory, momentarily forgetting your anger with him over Yugyeom and focusing on the scenes passing by as you two drive away from your school and into town. “Who is it?” 

“He’s just an old friend.” 

“Does he know about me?” 

“Yes,” Jimin responds irritably, his face flattening instantly out to hide his emotions. 

Your heart wells a little in your chest, nonetheless. Jimin deemed you important enough to talk about, and that was all your lovestruck little heart could focus on as he drove to the Highway Diner near your house. 

You hop out quickly after he puts the car in park, feeling antsy and energetic at the thought of meeting one of Jimin’s acquaintances. The bell above the door chimes and the scent of greasy, artery clogging fast food hits your nostrils, making your stomach growl loudly again. Jimin smirks over at you before lifting a hand in greeting to the waitress behind the counter and leading you over to an empty booth in the back. 

“Oh, he’s not here yet?” you ask, looking around for any signs that would let you know there was another supernatural presence among you. 

“I just sent him a text,” Jimin says, setting his phone down and passing you a menu. “What do you want to eat?” 

Your eyes rake over the menu hungrily, looking at all their burger combos and milkshakes and fries with toppings and philly cheese steak platters until your mouth was watering at the thought of it all. The waitress comes while you are in the middle of still trying to pinpoint your hunger to one dish and a milkshake, so Jimin orders three glasses of water and tells her you would need a little more time. 

You notice she seems to question his stylistic choice of wearing sunglasses while inside, but then again, he did fit the theme of the restaurant. When he pushed back his hair and leaned back in the booth, placing one arm behind your head to rest it on the backing, he looked reminiscent of a greaser straight out of the 1950s. 

“Jimin, what sounds better? A Rock N’ Roll burger and a Screamin’ Strawberry shake? Or a Do Wop Burger—without the onions, of course—and a Berry Banana Blast?” 

“Both sound like heart attacks,” Jimin grunts. “Get the Do Wop thing. The Berry Banana milkshake is the best thing this dump has to offer. Not to mention, it’s one of my favorites.” He sends you a short, sweet smile that ultimately makes your decision for you. 

You wonder if maybe you could ask for two straws in case Jimin wants some. Or maybe just one straw so that he would be forced to drink off the same one you were drinking out of. Yes, that’s what you would do, it would be more intimate that way— 

Your thoughts are interrupted as Jimin’s head whips towards the door, signaling the arrival of his friend. He’s dressed in an all-black ensemble that resembled Jimin’s--paired with an army green bomber and combat boots. His hair is shaved close on both sides, the top grown out and combed back messily into a style reminiscent of a pompadour. He’s without sunglasses, and his eyes are the warmest, chocolatiest-brown you’ve ever seen in your life. Your voice gets stuck in your throat as he and Jimin clap hands across the table in a friendly greeting, the enticing, spicy scent of his cologne filling up your nostrils and making you lean closer to chase the smell with your nose as he took his seat. 

“Why are we meeting here man? I thought we were going to go scope out that place?” he asks, getting comfortable in the booth. His eyes land on yours as if this was the first time he was seeing you, and you look away quickly and down at the quivering menu in your hand. “Oh, who’s this?” 

“Y/N, this is JB,” Jimin says, nodding in your direction. “JB, Y/N.” 

JB flashes you a smile in acknowledgement, his eye teeth glinting from the lamp light overhead. “Y/N? The Y/N? Well, well, well,” he says in a sultry tone, leaning closer. “I’ve heard a lot about you, pretty thing.” 

“H-huh?” you say dumbly. “You have? Like what?” 

JB’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he replies. “You’re our little party girl, right? The fighter.” 

Your heart thumps hard in your chest at the thought of Jimin telling other demons about you saving him—did that mean he was proud of you? If he was discussing you with other people then that had to mean— 

Jimin snorts. “She’s not a fighter. I still ended up getting shot with a salt bullet in the middle of that scrap with the hunters.” He rolls his eyes in irritation and his voice drops an octave before he speaks again, “And don’t call her a pretty thing. Knock it off.” 

“She’s not pretty?” JB asks innocently, leaning over the table a little more to reach out and tuck your hair behind your ear. His cool fingertips brush along your temple, down your cheek and across your jaw before he pulls away, pursing his lips in thought. “Don’t be so obtuse, Jimin.”

If your heart thumped earlier, it’s practically beating off rhythm at this point— a line of electricity sparks along your face where his touch trails, and your mouth parts open a little in shock. 

Jimin growls beside you, cutting his eyes at JB in warning. “Stop doing that to her,” he snaps. “Y/N, I can hear your pulse.” 

It’s a reminder and a warning all in one. 

“I—I’m not—” you stutter out, but Jimin just sets his jaw and looks at you pointedly. You make it a point to take a few deep, silent breaths in and out to calm your racing heart as he turns back to JB and moves the conversation in a different direction. 

“We can still do as we planned,” Jimin says. “I just wanted to feed Y/N first.” 

You huff in your seat beside him. “I don’t need you to feed me. I’m not a child.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jimin says, leaning back into his seat. “Your mind is so accessible. JB was able to get you easily.” 

You frown. “What do you mean?” 

JB wiggles his fingers at you playfully. “I’m learning a few things in my old age,” he begins. “Like how to control my eye color—” they flash a stealthy, golden yellow as he says this, before settling back into an innocent chocolate, “—and how to read and manipulate emotions. Mostly sexual ones for now, but hey, that could definitely come in handy one day, right?” 

“Oh,” you say, for lack of having a better comeback. It was just a game that he was playing; for some reason, the realization bothers you. “Well, that’s nice. I guess?” 

“Don’t sound so glum,” Jimin teases, elbowing you in a tender spot under your ribs. You return the gesture with a hard pinch to his forearm. “He caught you off guard—I can teach you how to build up the walls in your mind so it’s harder to manipulate you.” 

JB raises his eyebrows at Jimin across the table, and he backtracks quickly. 

“I just mean, you know—” he stumbles on his words for a minute, “in case she ever comes in contact with another demon that’s not as civil as you and me, you know?” 

“Oh, so you can do that, too?” You can’t help the sharpness of your voice as your eyes narrow. “You’ve been manipulating me?” 

“What? Of course not,” Jimin scoffs. 

He looks genuinely offended by your accusation, so you want to believe him, but your heart still twinges a little at the thought of—well, everything you thought you knew about him being a lie. 

Your expression must worry him because he lowers his voice, gaze flickering to JB across the table in slight embarrassment as he murmurs to you a soft, “I would never.” 

You scoot a little away from him—not buying it—and press yourself against the bright yellow painted wall beside you, eyes trained back on the menu as your mind races. 

“Well, this is awkward.” JB clears his throat, a smile playing around the edges of his mouth. “Waitress?” 

You see Jimin shut him up with a quick jerk of his head out the corner of your eye. Your waitress scurries back over, her eyes appreciatively glazing over JB as he orders, smiling at her in a way that has her biting her lip flirtatiously. 

You suppose he’s trying out his emotional manipulation on her as well—so at least you’re not the only one with a soft, malleable mind. The idea makes you scoff as the waitress giggles loudly at JB, following the action with a girly flip of her hair over her shoulder. 

“And for you two?” she asks when she finally tears her gaze away from JB’s sculpted jawline. 

“Not hungry,” you mumble, handing her the menu. 

Jimin sighs audibly beside you. “She’ll have the Do Wop burger.” He pauses to look at you for affirmation as he states, “No onions, right?” When you refuse to answer, his elbow makes a second threatening jab for your side. 

“Right,” you mutter. 

“And a Berry Banana Blast,” he says. “Can you us bring two straws?” 

“Sure thing,” the waitress says, scampering off with a final smile. 

“Who said you were getting any?” you ask defiantly. 

“If I’m paying for it, don’t you think I deserve a sip?” Jimin asks, his eyes twinkling with playfulness as he looks over at you. “Stop being so mean.” 

You mumble something about Jimin being the one who was being mean, thinking that he couldn’t hear you under your breath. You’re wrong, and it earns you another jab in the side with his ridiculously sharp elbows. You return his gesture with a small pinch right under his armpit, causing him to jump and yelp in surprise. 

“You guys are like teenagers,” JB teases, rolling his eyes. “Well, I suppose you both are about that age, aren’t you?” 

“What?” you ask, zoning in on the revelation. “What do you mean?” 

“Jimin’s vessel is just a meat suit,” JB says with nonchalance. “You do know that, right?” 

“Yes,” you respond indignantly, sticking your chin out. “I know demons are just smoke, or whatever, and have to possess a host.” 

Jimin attempts to interrupt the budding conversation, but JB leans forward over the table, his feline-like eyes flickering with mischief. “So you have to know that Jimin transitioned very young, also.” His eyes move to Jimin before landing back on yours. “Right?” 

Your eyes widen. “You’re saying he was my age before he became—well, you know—” 

“A demon?” JB chuckles. 

“That’s not really of importance, is it?” Jimin asks wearily, eyeing JB once again in a way that lets you know he’s telling you too much. “This is a boring topic, Y/N. If I felt like you needed to know this I would have told you myself—it doesn’t change anything, does it?” 

Your brows furrow as you think. Jimin was around your age when he became an all-powerful, immortal crossroads demon. It does change things, even if it’s as simple as bringing to light the fact that he was human before. 

But you can see the worry lines creasing Jimin’s forehead—scared that you are going to suddenly think different of him because of some insight on his past—and so you shrug, shaking your head. 

“Nope,” you lie. “Doesn’t change anything. Just makes me wonder if you were as mean in your previous life as you are in this one.” 

Jimin rolls his eyes, but JB uses your musings to delve into one final secret: 

“Quite the opposite actually,” he says with a smile. “He was a charmer. Very manipulative, though. That’s what drew me to him originally. You see—” 

“The milkshake!” Jimin yells suddenly, snatching your attention away from JB and to the waitress sauntering towards your table with your milkshake in hand. 

She sets down two straws and a napkin before placing the milkshake on top—but the way she moves it closer to JB lets you know something's up. You lean over the table to see her phone number scribbled on the bottom with loopy cursive that says, “Call me!” over top. 

JB settles back into his seat with a satisfied smirk, one that you’re sure could melt not only the waitress’s heart but the thick texture of the milkshake sitting in front of you. 

“This shit is too easy,” he says to Jimin with a laugh. 

Somehow, you notice, Jimin doesn’t seem to find it as funny when JB’s gaze lands back on you, giving you an obvious wink that makes your heart flutter for just a few, fleeting seconds. 

You finish your meal, eating with vigor because no matter how much you told Jimin you didn’t want it, when your burger finally arrived, your mouth was quite literally watering at how hungry you were. Jimin insists on paying as well, pushing your hand gently out of the way when you offer him some crumpled bills from your wallet and handing the cashier his sleek, black credit card. 

As soon as you three are outside, JB gives you a finalizing nod and disappears into thin air with a light popping sound, like someone cracking their knuckle. 

You turn to Jimin. “I thought you guys were going together?” 

“We are,” Jimin says, “but I’m going to drop you off at home first.” 

You immediately begin shaking your head. “No, you’ve done enough,” you insist. “My house is only like two blocks from here, I promise I can walk alone.” 

Jimin eyes the area around you wearily, his eyes sweeping the street you would be walking down. Cars pass by and people travel in and out of the shops, but it’s otherwise quiet and calm. 

“Really, Jimin,” you say for good measure, watching the way his mouth turns down as he thinks over his options. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Okay,” Jimin says with a sigh. “But you let me know when you get home, alright?” 

“Aye, aye, captain.” You salute him, and he hands you your bookbag from the backseat of the car. 

“Try not to miss me too much,” Jimin says with a smirk. 

You gag. “In your dreams.” 

“In your dreams, remember?” he says, giving you a wink. “I’m not the one getting all hot and sweaty at night over the thought of demons.” 

“Fuck you, that was a while ago!” 

He hums in the back of his throat, unconvinced. “Sure.” 

You roll your eyes, turning on your heel and stalking away in the direction of your house. 

“I’ll be over later tonight if I don’t hear from you!” he warns in a light tone at your back, a laugh still teetering on the edge of his voice. 

He waits until you’re a good way away before he gets into his car and drives off the opposite way. It’s a short walk and Jimin’s apprehension feels silly to you—doesn’t he realize you survived all these years on your own without his help? 

As you’re walking, you sling your book bag back around to your front, digging around in one of the pockets for your headphones. You hate not having something in your ears when you’re walking around—whether that be in your own house, or at school in between classes—and so when you feel the skinny cords of your headphones beneath your fingers, it’s like a sigh of relief. 

You stick the buds in your ears and scroll through your phone, searching for your ‘Walking Playlist’ to accompany you on the way home. The sounds of The Killers Mr. Brightside blast through the speakers and you stuff your phone back in your pocket. 

You’re too busy humming along to the pre-chorus—your favorite part—to notice a man come up behind you quick, and the music in your ears blocks out the rapid stomping of his boots. It’s not until he grabs your shoulder with force that you realize the situation you are in, and it happens all too quick. 

His other hand clamps over your mouth, stopping any and all attempts that you have at screaming for help. He scoops you up rather easily despite your frantic kicking, and at the same time, a van swerves to a stop at the curb. The man, still holding onto you with one incredibly strong grip, opens the sliding door and all but throws you inside and hops in after you, slamming the door shut as the driver punches the gas and takes off. 

You scramble into a corner, struggling to sit up straight after being launched into the vehicle. Your heart beats out of your chest as you take in your surroundings—a dirty, old work van with construction materials in the back—and then at your captor beside you who is quick to take off the ski mask hiding his recognizable facial features: a strong jawline, brown, messy hair, a bigger nose and soft, brown eyes that don’t look capable of snatching up a high school girl on her way home for god knows what reason. 

The realization dawns on you immediately and dread fills your veins with ice water as you match the face of the man beside you and the one driving to the same ones who’d filled your dreams countless times over the past month. 

“Hunters,” you rasp, still trying to catch your breath after the struggle. “What do you want?” 

“Hello again, princess,” Yoongi says from the front seat, catching your eyes in the rearview mirror. “Sorry for the abrupt way we had to meet this time.” He chuckles, but there’s no humor in his voice when he adds, “We need you for what we have mind for the demon.” 

[ktaebwi]

Hwa Yang Yeon Hwa The Notes (Tear) - Full Translation

KRN - ENG © ktaebwi Do not use for commercial purpose. Credit properly when reposting & re-translating. Do not repost PDF file.

Download PDF: MF | Dropbox

T/N: - The below translation is for Hwa Yang Yeon Hwa The Notes, a fictional work, part of BU (BTS Universe) published by Bighit Entertainment and comes with ‘LOVE YOURSELF ‘轉’ Tear’ album. - The notes are the same for all versions except for the right entries of some members in each version. Y - Yoongi, Jimin, O - Hoseok, Taehyung, U - Namjoon, Jungkook, R - Seokjin. - In Namjoon’s entries, the sibling mentioned is a younger sibling, however the gender is not mentioned.

Seokjin 30 August YEAR 22

Can anyone remember the moment love starts? Can anyone foresee the moment love ends? What meaning lies behind the incapability of humanity to perceive those moments? And for what reason was I given the power to undo all of them?

The car came to a sudden stop, the headlight flashed, the car crashed, she was thrown upward , she fell. In the midst of all those chaotic moments, I just stood defenselessly. I heard no sound, felt no sense. It was summer but the wind felt chilly. Something rolled down along the road, making sound on its way. And then there was the smell of flower. It was when reality hit me. The Smeraldo bouquet fell out of my hand. The girl was in the middle of the road some distance away. Blood was seeping through her hair. Dark crimson blood, flowing down along the road. I thought. If only I could turn back time.

Seokjin 17 July YEAR 20

Outside the school entrance, the sound of crickets prickled in my ears. The school yard was crowded with kids laughing, joking around, racing with each other. It was the start of the summer holiday, everyone was excited. I lowered my head and walked through them. I just wanted to leave the school quickly.

“Hyung.” I lifted my head up out of surprise as someone’s silhouette popped out. It was Hoseok and Jimin. They were smiling brightly, looking at me with eyes beaming with mischief, just like usual. “It’s summer holiday today, are you just going to leave like that?”  Hoseok pulled my arm and said. I just replied “Yeah yeah”, uttered some more meaningless words and then turned away. What happened that day was just an accident. It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t think Jungkook and Yoongi would be in the storage classroom at that time. The headmaster suspected I was covering for them. He said he could tell my father that I wasn’t a well-behaved student. I had to say something. I told him about the hideout because I thought it would be empty at the time. But it ultimately led to Yoongi getting expelled. No one knew I was involved.

“Have a good vacation, hyung! I’ll contact you later.” Hoseok stealthily dropped his hold and greeted me more cheerfully on purpose, as if he read something from my face. I gave him no response this time too. There was nothing I could say. Walking out of the school gate, I thought of the day I first went here. I was late and we were punished together. It was why we could laugh. Those moments were ruined by me.

Seokjin 11 April YEAR 22 (R)

The car screeched to a narrow halt. I was too deep in thoughts to notice the traffic lights changed. Students wearing familiar uniforms crossed the road and stared at me through the windshield. Some people were even pointing at me. I tried to laugh and bow.

I knew what I had to do. But it wasn’t like I was not scared. Will I be able to end all of these miseries and pain? Does these repeated failures mean I can never succeed? Does it mean I should give up? Is happiness only false hope to us? Thousands of thoughts flashed through my head.

In no time, I reached the gas station intersection and saw Namjoon pumping fuel some distance away. I took a deep breath in and exhaled. Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, I recalled their faces one by one. I changed lanes and drove into the gas station. I couldn’t give up. Even if there is only 1% chance of success, I will never give up. Past the windshield, I saw Namjoon walking towards me.

Yoongi 15 June YEAR 22

I couldn’t perceive anything but the music blasting inside my head. How much I have drunk, where I am, what I was doing. I didn’t want to know, nor did I feel them to be of any importance. When I stumbled outside, the night had already come. I just let my feet take me. Pedestrians, stalls, walls, I just bumped against anywhere. It didn’t matter. I just wanted to forget everything.

Jimin’s voice still rang vividly in my mind. “Hyung. Jungkook.” Next thing I remember, I was running up the hospital stairs like crazy. The hallways in the hospital were strangely dark and long. Passing by were people wearing patient’s clothes. My heart was pounding. Their faces were ghastly pale. They showed no expression, like they were all dead. Inside my head, the sound of my breathing was banging loudly.

Past the slightly opened door of the room lied Jungkook. Unknowingly, I turned my head. I couldn’t look at him. At that moment, the piano sound, the flame, the sound of the building collapsing suddenly came to my ears. I covered my head and flopped down. It said “It’s all because of you.” It said “If only you didn’t exist.” It was my mom’s voice, no, it was my voice, no, it was someone’s voice. Those words tormented me for god knows how long. I wanted to believe that it’s not true. But Jungkook was lying there. Jungkook was lying there in the hall, with people whose faces were pale as dead passing by. I just couldn’t come in. I couldn’t confirm. And so I stood up, legs wobbling. As I came back out, my tears fell. Funny. I didn’t remember what was the last time I cried.

I turned around at someone grabbing my arm when I was about to cross the road. Who was it? No, it didn’t matter. Anyone was the same. Don’t come near me. Go. Please just leave me alone. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to get hurt. So please, just don’t come near me.

Yoongi 19 September YEAR 16

The flames blazed with a scarlet red. Until this morning, the house I lived in was devoured by the fire. People who recognized me approached me and shouted something. Neighbors scurried over. They said the fire truck couldn’t enter because they couldn’t secure an entrance. I stood still.

It was at the end of the summer, autumn was starting. The sky was blue and the air was dry. I didn’t know anything, not what I was supposed to think, not what I was supposed to feel, not what I was supposed to do. And then I thought “Oh, mom.” The next moment, the house collapsed with a thud. The house that had been devoured by the fire, no, now it had become the fire itself, along with the roof, the pillars, the walls, the room I lived in, they collapsed down like a sand castle. I watched them absent-mindedly.

Someone pushed me aside. The said the fire truck came. Someone else grabbed me and asked. They looked me in the eyes and shouted something, but I heard nothing.

“Who’s inside?” I blankly looked at them. “Is your mom inside?” They grabbed my shoulder and shook. Unknowingly, I answered. “No. No one’s inside.” “What are you talking about?” The auntie next door said. “What about your mom? Where’s your mom?” “There’s no one there.” I had no idea what I was saying. Someone pushed and walked past me.

Yoongi 12 June YEAR 19 (Y)

I skipped school and went out, but the truth is I had nowhere to go. It was hot, I had no money, nothing to do. It was Namjoon who suggested going to the sea. The kids seemed excited but I didn’t really feel like going, nor did I hate going. “Do you have any money?” At my words, Namjoon made everyone empty their pockets. Some coins and a few notes. “Then we can’t go”. It was probably Taehyung who said “We could walk”. Namjoon made a face like he’s telling him to think about it and everyone chattered away, laughing and pretending to roll around on the road while walking. I wasn’t in the mood to respond so I just lagged behind. The sun was scorching. It was the middle of the day, not even the trees on the sides could cast any shade and on the road with no sidewalk, cars were passing, leaving clouds of dust behind.

“Let’s go there”. This time, it was Taehyung too. Or was it Hoseok? I wasn’t interested so I didn’t take a good look, but it was one of those two. I had my head lowered, strolling while kicking at the ground, but lifted my head up as I bumped into someone and nearly fell. Jimin was standing nailed to the spot. His face was shaking like he saw something very scary. “Are you okay?” I asked but it seemed like he couldn’t hear me. Where Jimin was staring at stood a “flower arboretum” sign.

“I don’t want to walk.” I heard Jungkook. Sweat was dripping down Jimin’s face. His face was pale like he was about to drop down. What was that? I felt weird. “Park Jimin.” I asked but he didn’t react. I looked up at the sign again.

“It’s so hot. Why would we go to an arboretum? Let’s go to the sea.” I said dully. I didn’t know what kind of place that flower arboretum was, but it felt like we must not go there. I didn’t know why but Jimin looked strange. “We have no money.” Hoseok answered me. “Then let’s walk.” Taehyung added in. “If we just walk to the train station, we’ll make it some way or another.” Namjoon spoke up. “Then we’ll have to skip dinner instead.” Jungkook and Taehyung whined and Seokjin-hyung laughed. After everyone began to head towards the train station, Jimin started moving again. He looked like a small kid walking with his head lowered, shoulders hunching. I looked up at the sign again. Flower arboretum, the five letters were slowing getting further and further away.

Namjoon 13 July YEAR 22

I rested my head against the window. From the library to the gas station, the same commute everyday. Outside the windows passed the sickeningly familiar landscapes. Will I ever escape these landscapes? I felt that it was impossible to predict what would come tomorrow, what I could hope for.

A girl sat few seats in front of me, hair tied back with a yellow rubber band. She raised her shoulders up as if heaving a sigh and sat down. And then she rested her head against the window. We have been studying at the same library and taking the bus at the same station for more than a month. We never talked but we saw the same landscapes, lived the same time and heaved the same sigh. The hair tie was still in the pocket of my pants.

The girl always got off three stops ahead of me. Every time I saw her getting off, I wondered if she would go to to hand out the flyers again. What did she have to go through? What did she have to endure? How much of the hopelessness that is tomorrow would never come, that is there was already no such thing as tomorrow from the start did she feel? I thought.

The girl’s stop was approaching. Someone pressed the stop button and shortly after, passengers stood up from their seats. But the girl wasn’t among them. She stood still in her seat with head resting against the window. Seems like she was sleeping. Should I go and wake her up? I debated for a moment. The bus reached the stop. The girl still remained the same. People got off. The door closed and the bus left.

The girl didn’t wake up once while the bus passed three stops. As I walked to the door, I debated with myself once again. Obviously if I get off, no one would pay attention to the girl. By the time she wakes up, the bus would be far away from where she was supposed to get off. Who knows how more tiring her day would get because of it.

I got off the bus and started walking to the gas station. The bus soon departed and I didn’t look back. I left the hair tie on her bag but that was it. It wasn’t the start nor was it the end. There was nothing from the beginning so there was no reason for anything to happen. So it was nothing at all, I thought.

Namjoon 17 December YEAR 21

People waiting for the first bus rubbed their hands together at the cold wind. I clutched the straps of my bag tightly and looked down to the ground. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. A country village only two buses stops at a day. The first was approaching from afar.

I followed after people and got on the bus. I didn’t look back. When we’re desperate for something, when we has grabbed hold of it and now the only thing left to do is escaping, there’s one condition. To not look back. The moment we look back, all our efforts will go up in smoke. Looking back is doubting, is lingering attachment and fear. Only after we’re over it can we truly escape.

The bus departed. I had no plan. I wasn’t desperate for anything, not did I grab hold of it and was escaping. It was more like an impromptu getaway. A getaway from my mother’s tired face, my sibling who’s feeling lost, my father’s illness. A getaway from my household situation that’s getting more stressful over time, from my family who insist on sacrifice and peace, from myself who pretended like I knew nothing and resigned, striving to adapt myself, and most of all, from poverty.

If you ask if poverty is a crime, anyone would say it’s not. But is it really not? Poverty eats away so many things. It makes what we used to treasure become nothing. It makes us give up what we could not. It makes us doubt, fear and resign.

Just few hours later, this bus will stop at a familiar stop. One year ago, I didn’t leave any goodbye when I left this place. And now I’m coming back there without any omen or notice. My friends’ faces came up in my mind. I cut contact with all of them. How have they been doing? Will they welcome me? Will we be able to gather and laugh like we used to? Outside, the landscape was rendered invisible by the frosty windows. I slowly moved my fingers above it.

“You must live on.”

Namjoon 22 May YEAR 22 (U)

“We’re just one year apart. No, someone said so. I’m older than him. I know. But he’s not a kid anymore. I’m just saying it’s time for him to do by himself. I got it. I said I got it. No, I’m not angry. Sorry.”

I ended the call and looked down to the ground. The warm sea breeze was sweeping through the pine forest. I felt so suffocated inside, like my heart would explode any second. On the ground mixed with half sand and half ground, the ants were lining up to go somewhere. If someone who’s greater than me in any aspect, physically or symbolically, look, would they see where I am going, know why I am going and how I will end up?

It’s not like I don’t love my parents, nor am I not worried for my sibling. If I can I want to look away, but I’m just me, so clearly that won’t happen. If it happens, what would all these struggles, anger, frustration and this desire to escape mean?

Some distance away, I saw someone from the back, standing nailed to the spot just like I was. It was Jungkook. Jungkook once told me this. “I want to become an adult like you.” I could tell him then. Tell him that I’m not a good adult like he thought, that no, I’m not even an adult. I felt like it would be too cruel to tell him so. I couldn’t tell a young kid couldn’t get the faith, the care and love he deserved that growing older, growing taller and living longer doesn’t make you an adult. I hoped for Jungkook’s future to be kinder to him than mine did, but I couldn’t promise that I would be there to help him. I approached and draped an arm around his shoulder. Jungkook looked up at me.

Hoseok 4 July YEAR 22

I went out to the hallway while waiting for first aid. The hospital hallway was crowded with people walking around even at this time of the night. Water was dripping down from my hair drenched by the rain and sweat. As I shook my hair, her bag fell down. All kinds of miscellaneous stuff spilled out. Coins were rolling, ball pens and towels everywhere. Among them, there was an airplane E-ticket. I picked it up and briefly looked through it.

Then, the doctor called me. It was just a mild concussion, there was nothing big to worry about, the doctor said. A moment later, she came out. “Are you okay?” She said she had a little headache and was about to take her bag back from me. Then she saw the E-ticket sticking out and looked at me. I shifted the bag to the other shoulder, pretending like nothing happened and rushed her to go. When we got to the entrance, it was raining. We stood side by side in front of the door.

“Hoseok-ah”. She called. She looked like she had something to say. “Wait a moment. I’ll go buy an umbrella.” I mindlessly ran in the rain. There was a convenience store not far away. I knew she auditioned for a dance team overseas not long ago. Seeing she already got the airplane ticket, seems like she passed. I didn’t want to hear what she said. I didn’t have the confidence to congratulate her.

Hoseok 23 July YEAR 10

It was after counting to four that I heard the laughing sound like an auditory hallucination. The next moment, a younger version of me passed by, holding someone’s hand. I quickly turned around to look but there were only my classmates staring at me. “Hoseok-ah.” The teacher called my name. And then I realized where I was. I was in class, in the middle of counting the fruits in the textbook. Five, six. I went back to counting but the higher it went, the more my voice shook and my hands started sweating. That memory of mine kept rising up.

I don’t remember my mom’s face from that day. I only remember she gave me a chocolate bar while I was at the amusement park. “Hoseok-ah. Count to ten and open your eyes.” I counted and when I opened my eyes, mom was no longer there. I waited and waited but she never came back. Counting to eight was the last. I only needed to count one more but my voice just wouldn’t come out. My ears rang and my surrounding became blurred. The teacher gestured me to continue. Friends stared at me. I couldn’t remember my mom’s face. It felt like if I count just one more time, she would never go look for me.

I collapsed on the floor.

Hoseok 20 May YEAR 22 (O)

I took Taehyung out of the police station with me. “Thank you for your hard work.” I bowed and shouted loudly, but I didn’t feel so. Taehyung’s house was not far from the police station. If he had lived somewhere far away, would he not need to go in and out of the police station this often? Why did Taehyung’s parents choose a place this close to the police station?  The world was so unfair to this kind, soft-hearted kid. I draped an arm around Taehyung’s shoulder, pretended like nothing happened and asked, “Are you hungry?” Taehyung shook his head. “Did the policemen buy you food?” I asked again but Taehyung gave no answer.

We walked in the sun. Cold winds were blowing inside my heart. If this is how I’m feeling, what about Taehyung? How torn and broken must he have felt? Was there even any piece of his heart left? How much pain there was inside him? I couldn’t look at him in the face with those thoughts in mind, so I looked up to the sky instead. An airplane was flying past the dim sunlight. The first time I saw the wounds on Taehyung’s back, it was when we met at Namjoon’s container hideout. Seeing Taehyung laugh so innocently over getting a T-shirt, no one could say anything, but inside a piece of our hearts was broken.

I didn’t have any parent. I had no memory of my dad and memories of my mom were only until I was 7 years old. When it came to wounds about family and childhood, I was never jealous with anyone. People say we must overcome wounds, we must embrace and grow used to them. We must reconcile and forgive in order to live. I couldn’t, not because I didn’t know nor I hated and refused to. Some things just can’t be accomplished through efforts. No one taught us the way. The world gave us new wounds before its knives grew blunt. I know there’s no one without wounds in this world. But why must the wounds be this deep? For what reason do we need them? Why must this happen?

“Hyung, I’m okay. I can go by myself.” Taehyung told me at the crossroad. “I know, kid.” I paid no attention to his words and led the way. “I’m really okay. Look. It’s nothing.” Taehyung smiled. I didn’t answer him. There was no way he was okay. He was far from okay, but if i admit this fact I wouldn’t be able to bear it. I was avoiding it. It had become a habit of mine. Taehyung pull up the hood of his hoodie and started following me. “You’re really not hungry?” I asked Taehyung at the hallway to his house. Taehyung just smiled foolishly and nodded. I watched him walking away from the back and turned around. The hallway he walked on and the path I took on the way back were desolate. The kid and I, we were both alone. I was about to look back when suddenly, my phone rang.

Jimin 4 July YEAR 22

When my senses returned, I was already washing my arm so hard that my skin was threatening to come off. My hands were shaking, breathe coming up and down. Blood was streaming down my arm. In the mirror, I saw my bloodshot eyes. Fragments of what happened earlier came back to me.

Suddenly, I lost focus. I was dancing together with a noona from the dance club when our moves got tangled and we bumped into each other. I tumbled down the rough floor and my arm started bleeding. That moment, I thought back of what happened at the flower arboretum. I thought I was over it but I wasn’t. I had to run away. I had to wash. I had to turn away. The me in the mirror was still that same 8-year-old kid stomping in the rain to run away. And then suddenly I remember. She also fell down with me.

No one was in the practice room. Past the slightly opened door, the rain was beating hard. I saw Hoseokie-hyung running not far away. He was soaked in the rain. I took the umbrella and dashed out. I ran. Eventually, I halted.

There was nothing I could do. All I could was to fall down and make her hurt, tremble at my own injury and leave her there only to belatedly run and stop halfway. I turned around and walked. Rain splattered on my sneakers with each step. Cars’ headlights flashed by. I wasn’t okay. No, I was. It didn’t hurt. This wound was nothing. I was really okay.

Jimin 6 April YEAR 11

I went out to the front gate of the flower arboretum alone. The weather was dull and chilly but I was in a good mood. It was picnic day but both mom and dad were busy. I was sullen at first, but after getting complimented at the flower drawing contest and hearing my friends’ moms saying “Jimin’s all grown up”, I felt like I was quite cool.

“Jimin, wait here. I’ll come quick.” The teacher told me after the picnic’s over and we were about to leave the flower arboretum, but I didn’t wait. I was confident I could go by myself. I clutched the straps of my backpack in both hands and walked with slow and stately steps. Sensing everyone staring at me, I straightened up my shoulders more. It was long after the rain had started. All my friends and their moms left, no one was there to look at me and my legs hurt. I covered my head with the backpack and squatted down under the tree. The rain slowly began to pour down harder and there was no one passing by. I eventually started to run in the rain. No house or shop was in sight. I reached the back gate of the flower arboretum. The side door was opened and inside was seemingly a warehouse.

Jimin 19 May YEAR 22 (Y)

At the end, I had to go to the flower arboretum. It’s time to stop lying I didn’t remember what happened there. Time to stop living in hiding at the hospital, stop having a seizure. In order to do so, I needed to go there. And so I searched days for this bus stop. But I couldn’t get on the shuttle bus to the flower arboretum.

Yoongi-hyung plopped down next to me after I had missed the third bus. I asked what he was doing here and he said he was simply bored and had nothing to do. He asked why I was sitting here. I lowered my head and kicked at the ground with the tips of my shoes. I thought about why I was sitting here. It was because I had no courage. I want to pretend that I was okay now, that I knew what I was talking about and I could easily overcome it but the truth is, I was scared. Scared of what I would face, whether or not I would be able to bear it and the chance of me having a seizure again.

Yoongi-hyung looked relaxed. He slumped down like had nothing to rush off for and said the weather’s nice along with some other nonsense stuff. Hearing him,I realized the weather was indeed nice. I was too nervous to look around me. The sky was blue and occasionally there would be a warm breeze blowing. Not far away, the shuttle bus to the flower arboretum was arriving. The bus stopped and the doors were opened. The driver looked at me. On a spur of the moment, I asked him.

“Hyung. Will you come with me?

Taehyung 17 July YEAR 22

My sides felt like they were being torn apart. Sweat was dripping down me. The railway, the vacant lot behind the convenience store, under the overpass, I couldn’t find her anywhere. I even ran to the bus stop but she was nowhere to be seen. People waiting for their buses gave me an odd look. What happened? We didn’t promise to meet but it was weird. She always popped up out of nowhere and followed me around. She wouldn’t give up even if I told her she’s annoying. But everywhere we went together, I couldn’t find her.

I stopped on my tracks in front of a familiar wall. It was a graffiti we drew together, her first ever graffiti. A giant X was drawn on top of it. It was her. I didn’t see it in person but I knew it. Why? I had no answer for that. Instead, the afterimages stacked up above the wall.

Her smile flashing at me when I knocked my head while lying on the railway. Her hands helping me up when I fell while helping her run away. Her face burning with anger when I stole the bread. Her gloomy look when we passed the photo studio where a family portrait was hung at the front. Her gaze unconsciously following the passing students. I told her when we were spraying on this wall together. “If you have any trouble, don’t suffer alone, tell me.” The X symbol was drawn on top of all those memories, like it was saying everything was fake. Like it was saying they were all a lie. I unknowingly clenched my fists. Why? I had no answer. I turned around and walked. Both I and she, were were once again alone.

Taehyung 20 March YEAR 20

I ran on the hallway and slid to a stop. Namjoonie-hyung was standing in front of ‘our classroom’. Our classroom. No one knew this but I called the place ‘our classroom’. The classroom of me, the hyungs and Jungkook, of the seven of us. I held my breath and came closer. I wanted to surprise him.

“Headmaster!” After five steps, I heard an urgent voice past the slightly opened classroom’s window. It sounded like Seokjin-hyung. I stop on my tracks. Is Seokjin-hyung talking to the headmaster? At our classroom? Why? I heard my and Yoongi-hyung’s names and Namjoon-hyung gasped like he was surprised. Seokjin-hyung jerked the door open, having seemingly sensed that sound. He was holding a phone in his hand. He looked evidently surprised and taken aback. I couldn’t see Namjoon-hyung’s face. I hid and watched them. Seokjin-hyung opened his mouth as if to explain himself but Namjoon-hyung raised a hand and said. “It’s okay.” Seokjin-hyung looked confused. “There must be a reason why you did that.” He said and passed by Seokjin-hyung to come into the classroom. I couldn’t believe in my ears. Seokjin-hyung told the headmaster what Yoongi-hyung and I did the past few days. He told everything, how we skipped school, jumped over the fences and fought with the kids. But Namjoon-hyung said it was okay.

“What are you doing here?” I turned around out of surprise, it was Hoseok-hyung and Jimin. Hoseok-hyung pretended he was even more surprised and draped an arm over my shoulder. Before I knew it, he was already dragging me into the classroom. Namjoon-hyung and Seokjin-hyung turned around as they were talking. Seokjin-hyung hurriedly stood up, said he had urgent business and left. I studied Namjoon-hyung’s face. He watched Seokjin-hyung leaving from the back and smiled at everyone like nothing happened. That moment, this thought hit me. There must be a reason why Namjoon-hyung acted like that. He knew much more than me, much smarter and more mature than me. And after all, this was our classroom. I entered the classroom flashing a smile, the smile that everyone teased me calling it a rectangle smile. I decided I would never tell anyone that I overheard that conversation.

Taehyung 20 May YEAR 22 (O)

I looked down to my hands. They were smudged with blood. Suddenly, I lost all strength in my legs. I was about to flop down when someone hugged me from behind. The sun was beaming its weak rays through the window. My sister was crying and Hoseok-hyung was silently standing there without a word. The dirty furniture and blankets were littered around, just like usual. No one was left where my father was standing. I couldn’t recall when he left the room.

The uncontrollable rage and sorrow that was boiling inside me the moment I came at my father still remained the same. I couldn’t tell what held me back when I was about to stab my father. I couldn’t tell how to calm this insanity-bordering mind of mine. I didn’t want to kill my father, I wanted to die. If I could, I would gladly die now. No tears came out. I wanted to cry, to scream, to stomp on and destroy and break everything, to be broken, but I couldn’t do anything.

“Hyung. I’m sorry. I’m okay. Go.” My voice came out dry, a stark contrast to my mind that was bordering insanity. It didn’t sound like my voice. I send off him, who didn’t seem like he was leaving anytime soon, and looked down to my palm. Blood was seeping through the white bandage. Instead of stabbing my father, I hit the floor with the bottle. It shattered and gashed my palm. I closed my eyes and felt the world spinning around. What should I think? What should I do? How should I live? When my senses returned, I was looking down at Namjoon-hyung’s numbers. Even after things came to this, no, as things came to this, I was even more desperate for his presence. I wanted to tell him. Hyung. I almost killed my father, my father who gave birth to me, my father who beat me to a pulp every single day. I really almost killed him. No, the truth is I already did. I killed him thousands of times. I killed him so many times even I couldn’t count. I want to kill him. I want to die. What should I do now? I don’t know anymore. Hyung, I just want to see you.

Jungkook 26 July YEAR 22

I secretly picked some flowers from the hospital’s garden. I lowered my head from the laughter bubbling up my throat. The sun was beaming dazzlingly in a midsummer day. I knocked the door, no answer. I knocked again and pushed the door open. Somehow, the room felt chilly. No one was inside. Only silent darkness resided here.

I turned around and left the room. I rolled my wheelchair down the hallway feeling tired and frustrated, and that’s when I met her. I came to a sudden halt at something showing up and there stood a girl, hair tied into a ponytail. There was a bench somewhere outside the hospital. I remembered sitting on that bench and drawing while listening to music with her. We even shared strawberry milk on the roof. My hands were still clutching the wild flowers but I had no one to give it to anymore.

Jungkook 30 September YEAR 20

“Jeon Jungkook. You’re coming there recently too, aren’t you?” I didn’t answer, just standing there looking at the tips of my sneakers. He hit my head with the roll book for not answering. Still, I made no move to talk, The classroom where I was together with the hyungs. Ever since the day I followed them and discovered that classroom, there was not a single day I didn’t come there. They probably didn’t know this too. Sometimes they didn’t  show up there, busy meeting friends or working part-time. Sometimes I didn’t see Yoongi-hyung or Seokjin-hyung for days. But not for me. I went there every single day. There were days no one else would come. But it was okay. If that place still exists, the hyungs would come today, tomorrow, or the following day, so it was okay.

“Learned only bad things from hanging out with those kids.” One more hit. I glared up at him. Another hit. I thought of when Yoongi-hyung was hit. I clenched my teeth and endured. I didn’t want to lie that I didn’t come to the classroom.

I once again stood in front of that classroom. It felt like if I open the door, the hyungs would be there. They would be playing games and turn around to ask me why I was so late. Seokjin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung would read books, Taehyungie-hyung would play games, Yoongi-hyung would play the piano and Hoseok-hyung and Jimin-hyung would be dancing.

But when I opened the door, there was only Hoseok-hyung. He was packing our stuff left in the classroom. I just stood there grabbing the doorknob. He approached and draped an arm over my shoulder. Then he pulled me outside. “Let’s go now.” The classroom door closed behind me. And then I realized. Those days are gone and would never come back.

Jungkook 2 May YEAR 22 (U)

I looked up only to see myself standing in front of Namjoon-hyung’s container. I opened the door and entered. I gathered the scattering clothes, draped around myself and curled up. It was chilly. My whole body was shaking and I felt like crying, but no tear came out.

When I opened the door and came in, Yoongi-hyung was standing on the bed. Flames were bursting from the bed sheet. That moment, an uncontrollable rage and sense of fear coiled around me, I wasn’t good with words. I wasn’t good with expressing my emotions to persuade someone either. Tears welled up and I coughed and the words just kept getting stuck in my throat unable to come out. The only thing I could utter as I flung myself into the fire was ‘We all promised to go to the sea together.’

“What happened? Did you have a nightmare?” I opened my eyes at someone shaking my shoulders. It was Namjoon-hyung. Somehow I felt safe. He felt my forehead and said I had a fever. Maybe I really did. My mouth felt like it was on fire but my body felt uncontrollably cold. My head was throbbing and my throat hurt. I took the pills he bought me. “Sleep. Let’s talk later.” I nodded, and said. “Can I ever become an adult like you?” Namjoon-hyung turned and looked at me.

[builder051]

Can you do a story where Steve drags Bucky out to go Christmas shopping without realizing Bucky doesn't feel well? He realizes Bucky is sick when he throws up in the store.

This is Powers/No Powers.  It came out a bit dark.  TW for anxiety/PTSD.  But you know this kind of thing is my jam. :)

_____

Sometimes time doesn’t make sense to Bucky. He can’t think of a good reason for it; no matter what happened during the war or what he was doing, time was moving forward at the same rate as always. But all the same, he’s confused when Steve meets him in front of the VA after work with a smile and a Starbucks cup.

“Hey.”  Steve claps him sweetly on the shoulder.  “You ready for your mission?”

“Um.  What?”  Bucky takes the coffee, though. He likes the warmth, and the beginnings of a headache nag at the nape of his neck. Things like fluid consumption tend to disappear into the time void during his work hours.

“I don’t think weekends count toward shopping days,” Steve says. “Don’t quote me on it, but I’m starting to think it’s now or never.”

Shopping. “Oh.”  Bucky nods, and the ache in his head flares.  Christmas is…not tomorrow, surely. Monday?  Tuesday?  He isn’t sure. But he does remember telling Steve he wanted to personally choose his gifts for his friends.  Clint and Laura, Sam, Nat, even Darcy deserve something more fitting than a fruit basket chosen from a catalogue. Bucky supposes he knew along it would necessitate a trip to the mall, but there went time. He hadn’t made the jump between planning and actually doing.

“Yeah,” he nods, trying to be emphatic. Or at least sincere. “Let’s go.”

“It’s probably going to be kind of crowded,” Steve warns.  “Just want you to be prepared.  Next-day shipping is still a thing.”  He smiles and tucks a piece of hair behind Bucky’s ear.  His knuckles brush lightly against Bucky’s cheek, feeling for fever or clamminess or something.  It’s sweet.  Or perhaps Bucky’s just paranoid.

“I know.”  Bucky tries to say it without an attitude, but his voice sounds funny in his own ears, and he isn’t sure if he’s missed the mark.  He sips his coffee, swallowing the warmth like it’s liquid courage.  Which it is, just with the opposite effect of alcohol.  “Let’s go.”

“Ok.”  Steve holds the car door open for Bucky like a gentleman, then watches him wrestle his coffee into the cupholder.  A bit splashes up through the opening in the lid, landing on the webbing between his forefinger and thumb.  

“What?”  Bucky licks the coffee off his hand.  The attitude definitely comes through this time, even though he doesn’t mean it to.  He tries to smile to offset it.  He hopes it isn’t a grimace.

“Nothing.”  Steve smiles too, really smiles.  Bucky tries to compare the feeling of the creases in his cheeks with the look of Steve’s.  He’s pretty sure he’s failed again.

It only takes five minutes to drive to the mall, but they spend twice as long trolling through the aisles of the parking lot looking for a space.  Finally Steve crams the sedan into a spot beside a crookedly parked truck.  There isn’t enough space on the passenger side for Bucky to open his door, so he climbs awkwardly over the center console to slip out the driver’s side.  

“Ugh.  Sorry,” Steve says, shaking his head and locking up.  “Hopefully they’ll be gone by the time we’re done.”  He jerks his chin toward the truck, then grabs Bucky’s hand and starts a purposeful stride toward the entrance to JC Penny.  

“’S alright,” Bucky says automatically, falling into step beside him.  But he thinks of his coffee left behind in the cupholder.  His palm is slightly sweaty against Steve’s.  He’d rather have it wrapped around the paper cup.  He feels guilty for it, but at least then he could pretend the perspiration was from the heat.

True to Steve’s prediction, the store is packed.  Bucky doesn’t think he’d mind if that was the only uncomfortable factor in play.  But as soon as they walk in the door, the hair on the back of his neck prickles to attention.  He’s reminded of long-forgotten training exercises, the kind that were meant to push him to his limits of sensory input while focusing on a singular task.  Find the target.  Neutralize the threat.  

That was… Bucky isn’t even sure how long ago.  He doesn’t do time.  But the fluorescent lights that give everything a sickly greenish tinge, the scents of perfume and stale grease and warm bodies are familiar.  And distasteful.  

“So, what were you thinking you wanted to buy?”  Steve takes half a step towards the menswear department, then stops and looks at Bucky.  

Bucky blinks hard.  Hadn’t Steve told him this was a mission?  Or is that some other long-lost memory back to haunt him?  It’s considerate of Steve to relinquish command, since it’s one of the few things they fight about now, but Bucky wishes he’d take control.  He’s used to following orders, obeying his commanding officers.  He doesn’t know how to make decisions on his own.

“Um…”  Bucky’s head throbs.  He tries to look into Steve’s eyes, but the glare coming off his face is too bright.  He blinks again.  Squints.  Swallows.  

A woman with a shopping cart almost runs into them.  “It’s ok.”  Steve puts his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and guides him into the space between two racks of t-shirts.  “Take your time.”

It’s not ok, though.  Something’s gone wrong in his head.  Not just the ache, though now it’s bad enough to pull the taste of bitter coffee up into his throat.  Time is flicking on and off like a strobe light, moving forward and back  with such speed that Bucky can barely believe he’s standing still.

He’s Christmas Shopping.  With Steve.  He’s fine.  

But he didn’t grow up celebrating Christmas.  He only started when he joined the army.  No need to draw attention to himself as a gay Jew.

And his handlers don’t let him celebrate anything.  He hasn’t seen calendar in… months?  Years?  He doesn’t know.  Maybe that’s the point.  It’s only the change in weather that gives him an inkling of the passing time.

It’s too hot in here, but Bucky’s hand and feet are freezing.  Icy sweat drips down his spine then absorbs into a frigid wet patch on the back of his shirt.  His head hurts.  So does his stomach. It’s flying up through his chest, and he’s falling, he’s going to hit the snow in the bottom of the canyon—

“Buck, it’s ok.”  

He doesn’t hit snow.  He hits Steve’s warm chest.  Arms wrap around him and hold him there.  He’s only aware that he’s shaking because Steve’s perfectly still.  

A wet noise comes from Bucky’s throat.  He grits his teeth because he doesn’t want to cry.  He can’t start sobbing in the middle of his mission.

“Shhh, it’s ok.  You’re safe.”  Steve’s chin brushes the top of Bucky’s head.

Of course he’s safe.  He’s with Steve.  How could he have forgotten?  A rush of guilt breaks Bucky’s flimsy hold on control.  His jaw goes numb and hot sourness coats his back teeth.  He gags and tries to pull away.  He can’t be sick.  He can’t lose control.

“Ok, alright.”  Steve’s feet move, but his solid grip keeps Bucky in place.  Bucky opens his eyes just enough to see ropy spit and coffee collect in a pool on the worn carpet.  He heaves again, feeling his eyes and nose start to dribble.  Strings of bile stick to his chin.  He’s a mess.

“I’m—“ Bucky chokes.  “Fuck, I’m sorry.”  He retracts his hand into his sleeve and scrubs sloppily at his leaking face.

“Hey, don’t worry.”  Steve cups his hand against the back of Bucky’s neck, lifting his hair and inviting in a breeze that helps settle his stomach.  “Let’s just go outside.  Do you feel up to walking?”

Bucky nods, though he isn’t sure.  He’s grateful for Steve’s arm around his shoulders, keeping him from tripping over his feet as they retrace their steps out of the store.  There are a few old people and sullen teenagers sitting on a bench, waiting for rides.  Somebody’s smoking a cigarette, and oddly, that’s what makes him feel better.  That’s how things are supposed to be.  Escaping into the back alley behind a bar, a little sick and a little sad, sharing a smoke and maybe, if nobody’s looking, a kiss…

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says again, clearing his throat and mopping his face with the inside of his elbow.  “That was…I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve says.  “You don’t have to know.  Or explain.  Or go shopping.”

“I thought…”. Bucky grapples for words.  He’s thought a lot of things in the last few minutes.  “I thought I wanted to.   But…I don’t.”

“Ok.  I think I’d rather just go home, too,” Steve murmurs.

“Yeah.”  Bucky draws in a shaky breath.  “I don’t know how I feel about… you know…”

“About what?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky sighs.  “This.  Christmas.  Everything.”  If there’s a term that somehow encompasses nostalgia and hope and joy and sadness and memories he wishes he still had and traumas he wishes he could forget, he doesn’t know what it is.

“You don’t have to, Buck.”  Steve tightens his arm around Bucky, pulling him close enough to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.  “If you want to talk about it, we can.  If you don’t…” He shrugs, his shoulder rising and falling against Bucky’s arm.  “It’s ok.  I love you no matter what.”

Steve isn’t speaking loudly, but Bucky still glances around.  Nobody’s staring.  Nobody’s even looking at them.  Bucky catches Steve’s eye and smiles.  The corners of his mouth hit the proper angles this time, and that makes him feel better. He doesn’t understand time, but he’s glad it’s passing.  He’s glad he’s moving forward.

[minnie-marvel]

Operation Juliet (Peter Parker x Reader) Part 1

You’ve been head over heels for Peter Parker for almost a year hiding your feelings behind love letters that you never thought would reach him. When your best friend slips one into your locker, you give up on hiding your letters from Peter and begin to slip them into his locker on a daily basis. Peter is through with not knowing who you are so he and Ned finally decide to engage in a proper investigation to figure out your identity!

Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 1,702

A/N: This was requested by the lovely Nena aka @sunflowerannawrites SHE JUST WROTE ME THE MOST HILARIOUSLY WONDERFUL FIC IVE EVER READ!!! Please read her fic “Buster” and all her other works!!! I love her so much!!!

also, I learned how to add gifs to my fics aren't you guys proud of me

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Your heart was aflutter as you tried to casually look across the hall from your locker. Your eyes landed on a confused Peter Parker, who had only just realized a small pink note had fallen to his feet. You felt your skin grow hot and your fingers tremble at your sides. He picked up the note delicately in his hands and scanned it over before suddenly looking up and around himself wildly, pink flushing across his cheeks.  You tried to fight a smile as you turned your body and held your books close to your chest, walking the other way. At the beginning of the school year, you could never have dreamed of slipping a love note into your crush’s locker, but now it seemed you had suddenly gotten a new sense of courage. You thought that it suited you.

You had fallen for Peter when you had first started at Midtown. It wasn’t something dramatic like out of a movie or anything. You actually had met on the train on the way to your first day at Midtown. When you walked onto the bus and bent down to tie your shoelaces, you heard a loud stuttered spilling noise and winced. Perfect, your first day of school and you were already making a complete and utter fool of yourself. You sighed and bent down to pick up your things when you saw someone else’s hand touch your textbook, helping you pick it up. Your eyes lifted to his face and you felt yourself forget everything that you had been doing for the past five seconds.

“Need help?” You blushed. You thought his voice sounded just as his actions were: incredibly sweet and unappreciated.

“T-thank you so much!!” You stammered nervously as you picked the rest of your things off the dirty floor of the train. “Great way to start the new school year am I right??” You laughed taking the books from his hands and sliding them into your bag.

“You’re starting your first day too? Where are you going?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“Midtown tech,” you answered. His smile only brightened in his realization. “Same here! Looks like we’ll be seeing more of each other,” He stretched his hand out for you to take. “I’m Peter, Peter Parker.” You took his hand shaking it gently. “My name’s Y/N Y/L/N, It’s nice to meet you, Peter,” You let go of him and held onto the trains pole so you didn’t fall as it pulled off to school. 

The conversation was all small talk but you felt yourself developing small innocent feelings for him. When you had gotten to school you bid each other farewell and went your separate ways.  Since then, you didn’t have the pleasure of being close to him as you may have wanted. You may have said hi once in a while as you passed one another in the hall, and waved at one another if you were in the same class. 

Of course, that just wasn’t good enough for you.

You saw him practically everywhere, and as much as your heart wanted to drag you over to him and talk his ear off your brain held you back. Peter was a grade above you, older than you, he probably didn’t want some kid following him around like a lost puppy. He must have seen you as someone he just kept tabs on to make sure you weren’t going to embarrass him by association. However, this year was different. You were older now, still a year behind him but at least you weren’t baby-faced! Still, you felt your heart quiver every time you tried to take a step towards him if he stood in the hall.

Don’t do it! Your brain would shout. We aren’t ready for the rejection you might face if you approach him. You felt your heart ache slightly when you’d see him laugh at some dumb joke from far away with Ned. You wished he would smile at you like that. 

That’s when you decided to write your Juliet letters.

They were never meant to be sent at first, they were only a way to just flush your feelings out of your system so you could give your poor heart a proper break. 

But of course, you had to tell your dumb friend.

“What the hell Y/N?! You have letters and you’re not going to give them to him???” your friend Eve said staring at you as if you were literally the most stupid person she had met in her life.

“Of course not!!! D-do you know what would happen if he were to get his hands on these???” You asked holding up a small neatly folded pink piece of paper. Eve stared at it for a moment before yanking it out of your hand and speeding down the hall.

“EVE!!!” You screamed trying to race down the hall. She cut the corner incredibly fast in what seemed like split seconds. Curse you for of course, making friends with someone who ran for the school’s track team. You turned the corner and felt your heart sink six feet below. 

She was staring at you mischievously. You shook your head quickly in a weak attempt to stop her. She was like a cat pushing a glass cup on the table.

“Eve I swear to-” 

The letter was dropped into the slits of Peter’s locker and she turned away wiggling her fingers in a wave. “You’ll thank me later Y/N I love you bye!!” You sang before breaking out in a dash down the hall.

Your face nearly turned red in embarrassment and anger. “I HATE YOU!!!!” You screamed loudly before realizing people were staring at you causing your face to practically light on fire. You ducked into the nearest bathroom staring at yourself in the mirror.

“Is it too late to transfer schools again…” You muttered to yourself. --- Peter let his hands open the letter delicately in the middle of study hall. He had wanted to read it for a while now but his studies had prevented him from going back to the small note until now. His eyes scanned the letter and his heart began to do summersaults with every sentence he read. 

   Dear Peter Parker,

   If I were to pick a flower for each and every time that I thought of you, I’m sure by now I would have robbed each and every rose from the ground in which they stand. I’ve sighed so much over your warm eyes that I find myself shocked that I still even have air in my lungs to carry another breath.      I wish I could talk to you… I really do. But I’m scared. I know that you have better things to focus on than me. But I can’t help myself anymore. If I keep these feelings inside of me another day I think I might explode.    My knight in shining armor, there’s not a day where I don’t remember what you’ve done for me. To you, it might not have felt like anything, but for me it meant the world to have someone be so kind to me when we had only just met.    If you are as adoring and lovely as Romeo would that make me your Juliet?  I’d hope not, I don’t think I’d be a very good Juliet at all. I’d fight the world in order to earn a place at your side.    What am I saying? Here I am professing my undying feelings for you in a cowardly letter. Maybe one day I’ll have the courage to speak to you outside of these pink papered walls. I hope that I can. Till then, I’ll continue to spill my feelings all over these pages like the idiot that I am.

Signed, Your cowardly, idiot Juliet

Ned nudged Peter who’s face was the same shade as the paper that he held in his jittering hands. “Dude, what is that?” He asked leaning over to read the letter. His eyes widened slowly and he blinked looking back up at Peter. “Dude….” Peter looked back at him. “Ned we need to find this girl.” He said suddenly. He looked down at your words again his eyes rereading every perfectly curved cursive letter and word. His heart was trembling. “Like. As soon as possible Ned I’m not even joking.” he finished whispering. He handed him the letter before looking around the room feverishly. It could have been any one of these girls in his study hall. He put his face in his hands to hide his growing blush. How in the world was he going to find you?

That was about a month ago.

Peter had just gotten the fifth letter stuffed in his locker again and internally swooned. Ned peeked over his shoulder.

“Oh? Has Juliet written you another letter?” He mocked in a baby voice. “Shut up Ned!” Peter punched him in the shoulder. “She’s amazing…” He finished dreamily, sliding the note in his backpack. It was a tradition now to read them once the school day was over with so he could properly freak out in peace.

“Peter, you don’t even know who she is,” Ned said skeptically. “She could be an old lady or some douche trying to pull a prank on you or-”

“She’s real Ned,” Peter said with confidence leaning against his locker now. “I’ve got spidey sense. I know she’s real,” he muttered under his breath.

“What? Bro, that’s not how it even works!!” Ned rolled his eyes starting to walk into class.

“We have to figure this out Ned I’m not joking!!! Its been a month, and we still haven’t figured it out!” Peter called catching up to him. “We have to treat this like a literal investigation… If I don’t find out who this girl is I….I might actually die.” Peter stopped mid-step and held his chest. “I’m serious Ned I don’t think I could read another letter not knowing who she is without dying.”

Ned sighed turning and patting his friend on his back. “I guess we’ll just have to start investigating.” He shrugged finally showing his support.

“Peter, it’s time to start ‘Operation Juliet’.”

Part 2

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[mattness]

Space Dementia

Sorry for the long wait! Another chapter of fanfic “Space Dementia” is here! 

Chapter VIII.

Jennifer snorted, looking at his own reflection in the mirror: she wore to a meeting with Robert short white dress that perfectly emphasized her figure. Jen scolded herself for what she wanted to show herself in the best possible way. She thought many times what to wear and the options are constantly changing from the simple (jeans and tee) to the most sophisticated (the dress with some jewelry). In the end, Wright stopped at a light close-fitting dress with sleeves. The girl put make-up eyelashes and highlighted her lips with red lipstick, and her hair slightly curled.

Something inside suggested that Robert is unlikely to pay attention to her appearance. Still this meeting even a date really can't be called. Who makes dates in broad daylight? Jennifer put on black heels and several times twisted in front of the mirror. Now she was ready. Taking beige bag, Wright came out of the house. The weather was perfect. The sun shone high in the sky, and a pleasant warm wind refreshed thoughts. Birds sang loudly, lifting mood. Jen covered a short distance to the station, where another tram. The orange-and-white train slowed down, and she immediately sat down on an empty seat. Outside the window of the tram swept the streets of the city. Multi-colored cars replaced each other, people hurried about their business, despite the fact that today was a day off. The girl again began to compare the metropolis and Derry, where on Sunday, on the streets there was no one to meet, while going to the grocery store. Everyone's left Derry for other cities in Maine for the weekend. Finally the train stopped at the desired station, and from there to the restaurant was on the doorstep. The girl jumped out of the train and walked quickly to the restaurant, a sign which even in the light of day was shining brightly. Jen sighed and walked into the room, gaze searching for Grey. Noticing the familiar frown on your face, snub nose buried in the screen of the phone, she resolutely went to the table. "Hi", said Jen, and Robert immediately got distracted from the phone. He carefully examined her appearance, smiling and rising. Unlike her, Grey looked too simple. Long black jacket, under which was a white t-shirt, and blue jeans. Wright was surprised that he wasn't in the perfect expensive suit. Although she didn't doubt that the clothes on him certainly from well-known brands that not everyone can afford. "You look great, Jen", said the man, and politely helped her sit down, gallantly pushing out her chair. The girl smiled sheepishly. He put the phone in his jeans pocket and put his hands in the lock on the table, continuing to look at Jennifer. She felt like every second blushed all the more from studying the green eyes opposite. "When are you leaving?" first of all asked Wright, touching her hair. "Tomorrow. Flight at five in the morning", quietly said Robert, taking the menu and studying the list of dishes. "If you want and if you get up, you can come to the airport and walk me. I wouldn't mind." "I guess I can't", the girl confessed honestly. "Where are you going?" "To Pennsylvania. First to Philadelphia, and then to other cities by car." Jen smiled sadly, suddenly remembering how she lived in Philadelphia until fifteen years of age. Moving from his hometown to another very much influenced her future life. Robert carefully examined the face of Jennifer, which displayed all the emotions and feelings that she was experiencing at the moment. Blue eyes couldn't stay on one thing. Memories about Philadelphia he immediately saw, now knowing, as girl lived, as only came in this world. "In Philadelphia so beautiful", she said quietly, and too, took menu. "I know. I have a house there." "So you're coming home?" "Not really." They don't talked about Robert's trip again. At dinner she decided to tell him a little about yourself, and Grey listened with pleasure all that already knew. It was interesting because some of the details Jen didn't say. But he knew everything. All people did so to create a good impression of themselves, hiding their own flaws and shortcomings. And Robert never understood the meaning of this secrecy. Because no matter how much he watched people who began to spend more time together, and then also began to live together, all these shortcomings gradually surfaced. For some reason, they immediately found out the relationship, quarreled, thinking that they no longer trust each other.   After the stories of Jen, followed by a logical question that Grey didn't know what to say. His story always had to invent. This time Robert Grey was a rich orphan with living parents who left him to fend for himself when he was seven years old. He left to live with his grandmother, which can be evaluated as "fabulously rich". A woman in her life earned a lot of money working in a large company, the name of which he didn't even bother to come up with. In general, it didn't really matter in the twenty-first century. It was worth someone to say that you are the owner of a large company and go to Aston Martin'e, as all around immediately became so sociable and friendly. It always has been. People for him were too hypocritical, and that's why he never wanted to make friends. The absence of these same friends, he explained to Jen that few trusts. So now he almost no one not spoke about his able. The girl smiled, remembering that as soon as they met, he immediately blabbed about it. "I only told you because you're different." Robert noticed how Jennifer's face changed, once again flushed, and her heart skipped a beat. She quickly understood what he meant. Grey found himself happier than ever. Everything followed his evil plan. True, at first the plan didn't include falling in love girl every time they met, and it was manifested more and more. To his same happiness, she was too modest and not come around until nor on that, except timid kissing. Now that he had to get out of New York as quickly as possible, Rob was sure that all the feelings that had been born in her would soon pass. She'll forget about him again, try to switch to work or her friends, because his departure will cause her only pain. Oh, yeah, and the pain she felt right now, though not so clearly. But Robert could smell it scent. Finally, they finished their meal, and Robert paid for the meal. He went to the exit of the restaurant with Jen, but suddenly on the TV screen, which was located under the ceiling of the bar, the news began. Grey frowned, hearing the announcer move from political to criminal news. Jennifer noticed that, too. "To the number of missing people added three more. Also recently, police found a corpse at the corner of Water and Pearl-street”, the announcer reported in a serious tone. "The identity is not yet established. We only know he's a man of 40-55 years without a certain residence." The girl frowned, remembering what the man who had attacked her looked like, and Robert, meanwhile, was well aware of how bad his affairs were. A little more — and the cops will still be able to find his carefully concealed trace, but Grey didn't want to be behind bars for the third time. In prison there was nothing useful and good, only vital time is wasted. "Okay, let's go", Robert hurried, holding out Jen's beige bag. "Don't listen bad news." Jen nodded and went outside with him. Robert offered to take his hand, and the brunette gently squeezed his palm. They headed along the road, deciding to go to the nearest Park. The weather is still held good that could not fail to please Jennifer. "By the way, you didn't say where you came from to the hotel in Orono", Robert suddenly remembered, when they were walking slowly along the green alley of the park. "From Derry. My father and I moved there as soon as I graduated from Columbia", the girl said with a sad sigh. "To be honest, I didn't want to go back there." "Why? Nice town", Grey smiled. "You been there?" surprised brunette. "I have, more than once." A couple sat on a free bench near the pond. Jen watched as the ducks swam away from the shore, away from the people. "You don't like it there, I take it", the man chuckled, placing his hand on the back of the bench behind the girl, who shook her head in response. "Why?" "In the ten years I spent in New York, I got used to the rhythm of the big city. I'm used to nobody knowing anybody here. Nobody cares about you and your problems, because they're just your problems. They don't touch anyone, and no one weaves about you stupid gossip", explained Jennifer, tired sigh and decided to arrange her head on the shoulder of Robert. "Derry's too small. Everyone knows each other. And the atmosphere there is very ... repulsive." Grey found himself chuckling again as he looked at her. "What? I'm only giving my opinion, and I don't mind if you like Derry. I'll just never understand it. I can't understand my father wanted to move there." "You bought a house in Derry?" "No. It belonged to my grandmother, whom I visited every summer." Suddenly Robert remembered one of the years he had spent there. Of course, he was there many times and not only in the form of an ordinary rich orphan boy, but also in the form of a clown. For a century, he posed as the dancing clown Pennywise and stole the foolish children, feeding on their fears and flesh. But then he got tired of this circus, it was worth once to get caught by police. The guards didn't manage to keep him locked up for long. He quickly ran away and continued to frighten the children. He couldn't get close to one little girl who was always hanging around with her grandmother. Only once he did get a chance. She was swinging on the swing and happened to notice where he was standing. He mentally began to call her, wanting her to come closer. But the little one wasn't a fool and ran to ask permission from her old woman before going to the clown. Then Pennywise was seriously angry and decided to attack someone else, leaving this ungrateful in peace. Only now, sitting next to Jennifer, Robert realized that this little girl was her. How couldn't he have guessed? Why didn't he go back to her childhood memories? After all, he had studied her too superficially, which now infuriated him a little. Grey tried to keep his emotions under control, just squeezing his fingers on the back of the bench harder. Now he seemed to be beginning to realize the reason why something inside him was drawn to her. It was just a long-forgotten hunger that he felt for Jen in her childhood. But Robert didn't realize how wrong he was. * * *   The clock stopped at four in the evening, and Jennifer suggested to Grey walk to the waterfront, where there was a beautiful view of the city and the sunset. The man nodded silently in response, and they slowly headed in the right direction. Jen carefully walked on the pavement, afraid to stumble and break the delicate heels. The sun hate blinded eyes, and because of this had to squint. She looked at Grey walking beside her, who was already wearing sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. He was clearly better prepared for the walk than she was. "Where do you go after Pennsylvania?" Wright asked, picking up the bag, which was already heavy to carry on her shoulder. The embankment was only a few meters away, so the couple moved to a walking step. Jennifer breathed fresh air into her lungs. On the embankment lovers, families, dog breeders and athletes also walked. Through the crowns of green trees penetrated the sun's rays, the wind blew pleasantly in the face and relaxed. "I haven't decided yet", Robert shrugged back, glancing at her. "Do you want to meet again?" She smiled sheepishly, walking slowly to the railing. Jennifer leaned on them, peering into the distance. Of course, Wright wanted to see Grey again. She still felt indebted to him. Maybe something could come out of it. Jen hoped Robert felt the same way. The sun gradually began to sink below the horizon, painting the whole sky in red shades. Numerous skyscrapers of New York reflected the sunset rays, making the landscape more impressive. Jennifer watched the sun with fascination, as did Robert, who stopped beside her. He glanced briefly at her hand. Without thinking, the man confidently covered Wright's hand. The girl smiled, feeling like such a minor action on the body a wave of pleasant chills. "I'm going to miss you, Robert", Jennifer suddenly confessed after a few seconds of silence. "Me, too", wasn't very convincing, making Grey mentally cursed. "You'll not notice how time flies, and we'll meet again." The brunette sadly smiled, fully turning to him. Robert, still clutching her hand in his, leaned toward Jen's face. He covered her plump lips with a gentle kiss, and a pleasant cherry taste suddenly gave in his mouth. The girl responded to the kiss, feeling dizzy from blissful oblivion. Robert heard vulgar thoughts have already begun to visit drugged mind Jennifer. Her other hand touched his neck, and it's a fleeting touch of pleasure seared his skin. He didn't understand why the little kiss had caused a storm of emotions inside him. Why he didn't want to stop? He was beginning to dislike it. Robert seemed to lose control of his mind, so he reluctantly pulled away from Jen, who sighed in frustration. Grey was surprised to see the pupils of the blue eyes widen and the view become blurred. Her red lips parted in a pleased smile, and Robert smiled back. Jennifer suddenly burst out laughing, which caused gray's true bewilderment. "You imprinted my lipstick", continuing to laugh, she said, and immediately began to rummage through the bag in search of pack of wet wipes. Robert watched as the brunette fished out a napkin and began to wipe the red marks around his mouth. She did it with such care that for a moment the man felt uneasy. Somewhere deep within awake long-sleeping conscience, and begged to be left alive creature, standing across him. However, Robert quickly calmed it down, not wanting to obey a fleeting impulse. As soon as the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, Grey decided to take Jennifer to the hotel. He took off his glasses from the bridge of his nose and put them in his pocket while the girl was on the phone with a friend who suddenly called. Jen tried to get off as quickly as possible, because that same friend was ruining the whole date. Robert burst out laughing when Wright finally put the phone in her bag and smiled guiltily. "Never give me peace", the girl snorted, taking his hand. "I thought you told them all about me, going for a walk with me and all", Grey grinned, noticing how she had blushed once again that evening. "Yes, of course... I'm pretty brief tall about everything, and it's very upsetting them. But since it's only my life, I don't have to answer to them for every action I take." He burst out laughing again, and for the next half hour they chose not to talk about Jen's friends. The girl was happy to tell stories from the University, told about something that suddenly came to mind that Robert was not bored. Grey listened carefully, sometimes noticing the strange glint in her blue eyes. The man looked with interest and thought that he was right: inside Jennifer Wright slept something bad and, in a sense, the devil. Robert didn't notice how quickly they approached the building where the hotel was located. Jennifer looked at the entrance and turned to the man. "Thank you for today's meeting", Wright smiled and thanked him. "I wouldn't mind repeating it", Robert said and took a step to her. "Only when you return", the girl said, looking down in embarrassment. Grey reached for her kiss again, but Jennifer put her hand to his lips at the last moment. The man raised his eyebrows in surprise, not understanding what was wrong. Did he do something wrong? After all, judging by the thoughts of little Jenni for the whole day, everything was going just like clockwork, and another kiss was to finally appease her. "I don't want to get you dirty", Wright explained, and Robert just snorted in discontent. She put her arms around his neck, pressing her whole body against him and inhaling the pleasant aroma of expensive cologne. Grey was taken aback, but then lowered the hands on fragile waist. The girl sighed, feeling like every minute was becoming increasingly difficult to break away from the person who so suddenly appeared in her life. She drew back reluctantly and smiled tightly, pursing her lips. "Bye", Jen said goodbye, letting go of his hand and starting to climb the steps to the hotel. "See you around, Jennifer", left behind Robert, watching as she had already disappeared behind the revolving glass doors. * * *   The girl tried to immerse himself in work after Robert flew out from New York. He didn't promise to call or write her, so Jen didn't expect any continuation of their nascent feelings. On the other hand, it was better for her. Maybe for him, too. Now, already working for the second month in a women's magazine, Jennifer still tried to keep the bar high to get a promotion and a good recommendation. Mrs. Johnson praised and appreciated her dedication. The days passed one after another, and Jen looked with surprise at Katie, who brought a note from her boss. Unwrapping the crumpled piece of paper, she smiled: Mrs. Johnson strongly recommended that Wright take a two-week vacation. The brunette agreed with pleasure, because the desire to go to his father recently became huge. They hadn't seen each other long enough, and Jennifer missed them too much. As soon as the vacation began, the girl immediately Packed a small suitcase and warned her friends, took tickets for the first flight to Bangor. The plane cut through the broad wings of the veil of clouds, which hid the city States. The girl hoped that the good weather will continue until the end of the flight. She wanted to come to Derry and find the sun in the clouds or in the cloudless sky. Wright sighed and put in her earphones, closing her eyes and sinking into a light slumber. Sleep was not long in coming… * * * ...She was once again in the middle of the hospital corridor with many doors that were locked. This time there was a light everywhere, and there was a working noise: the footsteps of doctors, the squeak of hospital equipment and a lot of talk. A strange excitement with the experiences of the possessed girl, and eye was dimmed with tears. The feeling that Jen was losing touch with a loved one painfully squeezed everything inside to the smallest size. She's heart was bleeding. The headache made her grab hair and literally scream. Jennifer didn't understand. She didn't understand what was happening around her, where she was, and why she felt so terrible. The brunette squatted down in the middle of the corridor, wanting to fall through the ground so that no one could see her. Jen has to get out of here before it's too late. "Miss Wright, are you all right?"the doctor's stern voice was heard, and the girl rose to her feet. "How is he?" it came out of her mouth, though Jen had no idea who it was. "Will live. We support his condition", assured the doctor in round glasses, occasionally looking into his clipboard that he held in his hands. The girl nodded and sat down on a bench near the wall. She again grabbed his head, trying to figure out how to get out of this nightmare. Feelings overwhelmed her. Now wanted to run away from herself, but nothing can be done. The body during sleep didn't obey, and feet became wadded. Jennifer tried to catch her breath until she heard the sound of someone's measured steps. They were approaching her, and the man who had appeared in the corridor stopped in front of her. "Jennifer", a familiar voice called softly. That voice, thought the girl and looked up. In front of her on his haunches sat Robert Grey, who sadly smiled. He looked good as usual: black trousers and a dark blue shirt with a tie. It was as if he had come straight from the office of his own company at Jen's first call. "I don't understand anything", the brunette finally managed to voice her thoughts, immediately falling into a strong embrace. "What's going on here?" "I know this is hard for you to accept", Grey said, stroking her back. "Everything will be fine." Jennifer frowned, still not understanding what was happening at the moment. She stared in surprise at the man, whose eyes suddenly turned bright orange. Strange white spots began to appear on his face. Brown hair began to get red shade on the lips Robert had a wild smile. In the hospital corridor the lights suddenly went out and was replaced by red. That ominous red again! With one sharp jerk, Grey forced Jen to her feet. "I don't understand", the brunette repeated. "Should you? I just want to play with you, Jenni", the man said, and red stripes of stage makeup began to appear on his face. It made him look ten times crazier. "To play?!" Jennifer was puzzled, trying to escape, but Robert's hands, on the fingers of which appeared sharp long claws, plunged directly into her skin. An unbearable pain gripped her whole body, blood ran down her arms, and the girl only clenched her teeth, still desperately trying to give a logical explanation for what was happening. Grey pulled her to him and breathed in the smell of Jen's mixed feelings. That's not what he needs. She didn't feel fear. She was trying to explain. Damn girl! "My sweet", the man continued, leaning over the brunette's face, "I want to eat you so much." Instead of a fear, Jennifer was embarrassed. Cheeks reddened, and excitement pleasant waves began to disperse around her body. Robert felt it, and now he don't know what the hell he did wrong. Why did the admission of his true intentions cause her such a strange reaction? What's wrong with this crazy woman? Did the long absence of relationship with the opposite sex so affect her? Grey cursed and pulled her to him, biting her lips with a passionate kiss. The girl groaned under the pressure and only Robert dutifully replied. The feeling of being sucked out of her life force began to constrain every movement. Warm blood filled her mouth and a thin stream began to flow down the chin. She felt he was killing her. Ruthlessly tearing from the inside out, causing terrible pain. Jennifer wanted to push him away, but she didn't have the strength. The pain was mixed with excitement, giving the whole thing some masochistic effect. Never before had the girl experienced such. Something broke inside and a loud siren filled the corridor. "What did you just do to me?!" cried from the horror of Jen, looking at Robert, who was now for some reason, the image of a clown. "I showed you what will happen to you. Very soon." He laughed out loud in the hospital corridor. The girl watched in horror behind him until, until he disappeared. Wiping the blood from her chin, Jen ran to find a way out. But there was no way out. * * *  Jennifer woke up from her own dream, screaming. Cold perspiration stood on her face, and her hands trembled treacherously. The flight attendant that was so close in time, had already stretched her a glass of water and a sedative pill. Without thinking, Jen drank the medicine, draining the glass completely. "You're all right, miss?" the stewardess asked anxiously. "Probably", the brunette answered, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "I was afraid you wouldn't wake up. But, fortunately, all went well", tried to encourage the employee of the aircraft. "We'll be landing in fifteen minutes, so fasten your seat belt and try to relax." The girl nodded and complied. Glancing out the window, Jen could see the outline of Bangor through the clouds. She frowned, trying not to attach any importance to the stupid dream. But it was so real that familiar taste left on the lips and in the mouth it was filled with blood. Jen licked her lips, instantly remembering kissing with Robert. God, did she miss him so much? No way! Obviously something is wrong with him, but the girl could not understand what. Why did this asshole continue to sit in her head even after almost a month since their last meeting? Jen couldn't explain it. Maybe a vacation in Derry and spending time with his father will help to forget him completely? Jennifer really hoped that talking to dad would help distract her.

[anamelesstraveler]

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Smoke in our lungs

A SniperPilot fanfic. Rated T.

Part 1/2 | 3,629 words

All Cassian wants to do for New Years is drink, dance, and forget about his life for a little while.

“Sorry!”  A body stumbles into him, or Cassian sways into them. In the end, he isn’t sure.

What he is sure of is that he lifts his gaze and finds the most gorgeous big brown eyes looking back at him.

This story includes drunk New Year’s shenanigans, Cassian being a tired and needy drunk, and both of them being utter disasters. Welcome.

This one was originally for SniperPilot Winter’s New Years prompt. But.... I am a slow writer oops.

Part 1.

Cassian has, maybe, had a little too much to drink.

The tipsy,  floating warmth he’s been nursing has rapidly slid into a sluggish, dizzy crawl. The pounding bass that had vibrated along his skin only an hour ago is now a twisted, volatile thing that makes his flesh prickle. The music is a smear of wordless sound. The people around him aren’t quite a blur yet, but he’s too drunk to care about focusing on any of them. And yet he still keeps knocking back the drinks Kay dutifully offers him - what exactly Kay keeps ordering, he’s forgotten to ask, but they burn just right in his throat so he doesn’t bother.

The glass clanks awkwardly against the table as he goes to set it back. “I think you should slow down,” Kay says lightly. It sounds like an admonishment anyway.

“We had a deal, remember?” Cassian grunts. “You get to be guard dog as long as you keep bringing me drinks.”

“I believe the deal was that I let you drink as long as you don’t do anything stupid. Giving yourself alcohol poisoning is considered stupid by most standards, Cassian.”

“‘ven’t had near enough for that.” Cassian swipes back a stray lock of hair. His face feels hot and clammy after being on the dancefloor. “I’m going back out. Have another one of these when I get back?”

Instead of answering, Kay shoves a lukewarm bottle of water into his hand. “Drink at least another third of that before you go.”

He rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told anyway. “Sí, abuela,” he mutters between gulps.

“You’ll thank me tomorrow. Or in five minutes when you don’t pass out on the dancefloor.”

Cassian wanders off without giving a reply to that, desperate to feel the press of the crowd around him again; strangely addicted to the haze and heat of the music and the people. His half-drunk mind conjures parallels to the sea, of sinking into the crush. Of sinking into it and becoming not himself for however long he can manage it.

That’s all any of this is.

Cassian doesn’t usually enjoy this kind of partying - at all, in fact. He’s always had things he’d considered more important to do: studying and training drills and countless other things. But he’s spent too long with responsibility being his burden to carry. He’s devoted too much of his life to doing and fighting for what was right. Spent too long breaking off pieces of himself in the hopes that he could somehow make a difference. And after he’d wrung himself out, he’d knuckled down and done it all over again.

The paths are different now. Medical school comes with less risk of violence and death than the military had. But the cycle of responsibility and discipline feel the same to him when he’s exhausted and ready to collapse under his own weight. Like tonight, when all he wants is to forget about everything around him. Tonight is New Year’s Eve, and this time and this club might just be the perfect opportunity for Cassian to for it.

“Sorry!”  A body stumbles into him, or Cassian sways into them. In the end, he isn’t sure.

What he is sure of is that he lifts his gaze and finds the most gorgeous big brown eyes looking back at him. And then he must be stumbling, because a hand comes up to his arm to steady him. Cassian’s eyes dart down, tracking slowly up from the elegant hand  to toned forearm, up and up the slender, surprisingly strong form of the man in front of him. His eyes falter on the angle of a bearded jaw, the softening waves of long dark hair, and the quick movements of his soft-looking lips as he continues to ramble apologies at Cassian. (His brain may or may not blank entirely when the man’s tongue flicks out to nervously wet his lips.)

And then back to those eyes again. Those eyes that are watching him with curiosity and a hint of fear. Oh. Right.

Cassian waves a hand dismissively. “S’alright,” he mumbles, and then has to say it louder to be heard over the music. The stranger (the Unfairly Pretty stranger) leans, placing his empty glass on a ledge nearby. The shirt he’s wearing stretches enticingly across his frame as he does, and Cassian finds himself distracted again. When he straightens, it’s to brush apologetically at the new wet spot on Cassian’s shirt.

Ah. God, maybe Cassian really has had too much to drink tonight. “Let me get you another one,” he finds himself offering.

That (Too Kissable) mouth curves into a frown. “I’m the one who spilled the drink on you,” Entirely-Too-Attractive says.

“Did you?”

His question, at least, seems to put the beautiful stranger at ease. “How many have you had, man?” he asks, visibly biting back an amused smile.

“Too many,” Cassian admits. And then decides: fuck it, all he’s wanted tonight is to forget about being the one to plan, to think about the right way to do things. Fuck consequences. “Hey… hey, do you want to dance?”

The club is too dim and too bright in turn thanks to the light show up by the stage. So Cassian can’t see if the Doe Eyes is blushing or not. But by the startled, almost shy change in his body language, it’s a close thing. Which is… great, actually. It at least means that Cassian isn’t getting punched tonight. The lights flare brightly, and yes, he’s definitely blushing. “I-I’m not…” Cassian barely hears over the pulsing music. The rest is lost under it all, but after a few moments of blinking at the man’s expression, he sees the uncertainty there.

He leans unsteadily closer. “You can say no, it’s okay,” he says, taking the stranger off guard. Cassian is about to turn and leave, to let the unspoken rejection roll off his back, when Ridiculously Cute Smile reaches out to stop him. It may be the (several) drinks talking, but the single touch makes Cassian want to drag him closer and never let go.

(He’s known the man for all of two minutes and hasn’t even asked his name yet. It’s definitely the alcohol.)

“No, no, I do,” he yelps a little too loudly, right into Cassian’s ear. “I want to dance with you!” The spark of elation that wells up in Cassian is so overwhelming that he nearly misses his next words. “I just don’t usually…”

“You don’t have to impress me,” he laughs, a bit too rashly, and then pauses. That didn’t come out right. “You’re cute and I just want to feel you for a while.” That’s… probably not right either, but Dazzling Brown Eyes sputters and doesn’t protest as Cassian pulls him towards the dancefloor. They weave into the crowd, Cassian carelessly slipping past dancers absorbed in their own little worlds (some of them more… explicitly than others) in search of a clear space.

He turns and pulls the alluring stranger to him the moment they find space enough to breathe. His shame has been left behind somewhere between drinks, and so he doesn’t even question the urge to press up against this beautiful man with his Soulful Eyes and his Plush Mouth. Cassian can feel him jolt under his hands, but not away from him. “This okay?” he asks anyway, and mutters under his breath: “Please let this be okay.”

He gets distracted watching the man’s lips form unheard words, but gets his answer in the slight nod of his head. In the arms that come up around Cassian’s shoulders. It’s all the permission Cassian needs to let his hands slide around his slender waist, settling the lines of their bodies more firmly together.

It’s so easy to get lost in the thrum of the music, the hazy grind of the beat that seems to over take his own pounding heart. It’s even easier to get lost in his new companion, the two of them moving together with the music, unwilling to step apart for anything other than swaying against each other. And Cassian had known he would feel good, but he hadn’t anticipated the heat that crackles along his nerves everywhere that they touch. He hadn’t thought about the fact that he’d never want to let go.

All Cassian wants is to let his hands wander, to feel as much of this beautiful man as he can. But no, no, he knows he can’t go that far. Not yet. Not even though Cassian can feel the hot little gasp between them or the shiver that courses through the man’s body when Cassian’s hands make a thoughtless slide from his hips up his sides.

He ducks closer as soon as the music quiets for even a moment, pressing his lips to the man’s ear. “What’s your name?” Cassian has to know. He’ll hate himself if he doesn’t learn at least that much.

There’s a breath against his cheek as the man huddles close in return. “Bodhi,” he answers, and there’s a rasp in his voice, something breathless and exhilarating. Cassian wonders if that’s what he sounds like after he’s had the breath kissed from his lungs too.

“Bodhi,” Cassian tests the name on his tongue, and wonders if it’s just his imagination or the flickering lights, or if Bodhi’s eyes go dark at the sound. “Nice to meet you, Bodhi.” He certainly doesn’t imagine the sudden, almost musical laugh that bursts out of the man.

He falls in love then and there, he’s sure of it.

Their moment is shattered as the music starts up again. If Bodhi looks like he’s going to say anything else, it gets lost. Cassian loses track of how long they dance after that, one song blurring into the next. Bodhi is far more intoxicating than any drink he’s had tonight, and all Cassian can think of is staying like this, pressed almost intimately against him forever.

The music cuts out abruptly, startling them both, with the dj’s blaring announcement that midnight is almost upon them. The monitors on either side of the stage flare to life with footage from Time’s Square, and the cheering almost drowns out the start of the countdown to midnight. Thirty. Twenty-nine. His arms still around Bodhi’s waist, they stumble out of the way of the over enthusiastic dancers nearest them. All around them couples are clinging, people are making to find someone to kiss as the clock strikes midnight.

Twenty seconds, and Cassian turns to find Bodhi watching him. And Cassian forgets all about the chanting, shuffling crowd around them, and about the confines and dead ends of his life. He finally finds what he’s been looking for tonight, not in the bottom of a shot glass, but in the endless depth of Bodhi’s gaze.

Their lips meet at fourteen seconds to midnight.

There’s a gasp that mingles somewhere between them. Cassian doesn’t have time to figure out from who, because Bodhi hands come up, cradling the back of his neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss before Cassian’s dazed mind has a chance to catch up. He clutches Bodhi to him, lips parting at the tiniest flick of the other man’s tongue, desperately beckoning him. His knees threaten to buckle from the sheer force of his own desperate wanting.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Around them the crowd shouts and screams. There are flashing lights and the soft touch of confetti raining down from the ceiling. Someone shoves into them in the chaos, knocking them apart. Cassian blinks down at Bodhi, wild and dazed. There’s confetti caught in Bodhi’s hair. He can stand it only long enough to take a breath before dipping his head for another kiss. “C’mon,” he breathes urgently against Bodhi’s lips, nipping them even as he starts to tug the man away from the crowd. They have to break their kisses to  make their way back off the dancefloor, and every second that Cassian isn’t kissing Bodhi feels like he’s suffocating.

He can’t be bothered to find a place more private, simply clutching Bodhi’s hand as they come free of the crowd and dragging him over to the nearest unoccupied alcove between the pillars and equipment. Cassian lets his back hit the wall, with more force than he’d planned for. It makes Bodhi stumble into him, makes him catch himself with a hand against Cassian’s chest and Cassian all but whimpers. He’ll feel ashamed over the sound come morning. Now all he can think of is getting Bodhi’s mouth back on his.

He’s dizzy even before Bodhi kisses him again, thankful that his weight is there to keep Cassian pinned to the wall and upright. Cassian sucks at hot, kiss-swollen lips, his face tingling from the scrape of the man’s beard. The hand at his chest slides up his throat to the hinge of his jaw, a gentle brush of fingertips at first and then tighter until Cassian’s mouth falls open for him. His hands cling to the back of Bodhi’s shirt, pawing at it in an uncoordinated effort to get his hands beneath it.

“Hey.” This close he can hear the husky whisper without straining.

Cassian’s response might as well be called a whine, chasing after Bodhi’s mouth. Everything feels too hot, too close. Like his skin has been pulled too tight. It all feels like too much and not enough. Like he’s dreaming and fighting not to wake up. He wants to drown himself in Bodhi’s kisses, in the weight of him; wants to grind down on the thigh that’s nudging between his legs until he forgets his own name. That’s all he wants - he just wants to not be for a few minutes.

“Hey… hey, shhh.” Bodhi’s voice is soft against the curve of his jaw now. The scratch and scrape of his facial hair is soothed by his lips pressing hot kisses. And it’s with a jolt that Cassian realizes there are words spilling out of his mouth.

“Please, fuck, I want-- I need this. Need you, please.”

He clenches his eyes shut.

“It’s okay. No, hey, look at me?” Warm hands cradle his face, patient and sweet, until Cassian takes a steadying breath and opens his eyes again. And Bodhi is there, still, not a figment of Cassian’s imagination or a hallucination brought on by the drinks he’s had. So heartbreakingly beautiful and gentle, and he’s watching Cassian with concern on his face. “You okay?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that one. It… doesn’t seem to soothe the growing worry flickering across Bodhi’s face.

“Okay, look, I’m going go up to the bar and get us some water. This is going a little fast. And then maybe we can… talk? About this? After you sober up a little.”

Cassian finds himself nodding. His heart is racing in his chest and he’s gone lightheaded. When Bodhi steps away Cassian sways a little, trying to regain balance. He’s so disoriented that he doesn’t think to stop Bodhi until he’s already slipping back out of the alcove.

Once Bodhi disappears among the other club goers, the sound from outside their little corner comes rushing back. The bass is so strong that it vibrates the walls. The chatter all around him is a constant undertow. It makes Cassian’s skin crawl. It’s a shock to his system - remembering just how much he dislikes places like this. The crowd on the dancefloor is no longer an anonymous comfort but a claustrophobic monster waiting to swallow him.

There’s no chance of keeping track of Bodhi’s progress in all this. Cassian should stay where he is - Bodhi had said he’d come back. Had said they’d talk. Hadn’t he? And maybe talking would lead back to kissing him again. But the longer he waits, the more Cassian feels ready to climb right out of his skin. And so he too sets off into the club again, in what is hopefully the general direction of the bar, cringing every time someone jostles by him.

But it’s not Bodhi that he finds. He wanders between people, disoriented in the flashing lights, and stumbles back upon Kay instead.

The moment he breaks through the crowd, his best friend looks up from the sharp brunette that’s taken up residence at the table with him. “There you are!” Kay shouts over the music. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to…” His expression pinches suddenly, taking in the sight of Cassian. “Oh no. Absolutely not.”

“What?” Cassian mumbles. Distantly, he wonders what he must look like. He feels wrecked and shattered. (How - how? All they’d done was kiss.)

Kay climbs to his feet, turning to the petite woman and muttering apologies to her. She waves a hand at him, her eyes tracking down Cassian curiously. It’s all the observation of her Cassian can manage, because Kay is suddenly shuffling into his space, blocking his view. “Alright, we’re going home.”

“Kay--”

“Unsafe club sex is certainly on the list of stupid things, Cassian. I think you’ve had enough tonight.”

“I didn’t-- I wasn’t fucking anyone, Kay,” he snaps, his face feeling hot in the significantly cooler air around the tables.

“Yet. You’re glassy-eyed and you’re going to have some impressive beard burn tomorrow. Come on, I’m not releasing you on the world like this. You won’t make it five minutes with your dignity intact.” Kay tucks an arm around his shoulders despite the muttered protests Cassian gives, and steers him in the direction of the door. Cassian peers around him, eyes scanning futilely for Bodhi in the faces of people they pass. And with every person who is not Bodhi, the more the fight drains out of him.

It feels like Cassian has been walking through a dream. He lets Kay lead him from the club, lets the cold night air wash over him. The first breath of winter air exhausts him, like a switch being flipped. Everything is suddenly too much all at once, the cold and the bright lights grating on his senses. All he wants to do is go back to their apartment and sleep.

“Cassian?” Kay calls to him as they wait for their car to be brought up, startling him. His friend’s gaze is quiet and worried. “Are you alright? Do you feel sick?”

‘I was looking for someone,’ he wants to say. And: ‘I wanted to go home with him. He was too beautiful to be real.’ 

“M’okay,” he sighs. “I’m just… I’m tired. And drunk. Let’s just go home.” He all but falls into the passenger seat even without Kay’s urging. 

Inside the club, Bodhi returns to the little tucked away space to find it empty. He stares at the space that had once been occupied by… fuck, a gorgeous man that was too alluring to be real.  “Damnit,” he hisses under his breath. He sets the two water bottles he'd left to retrieve aside, eyes darting frantically around for any trace of him.

All he finds are the faces of strangers.

END PART 1.

[mrevaunit42]

Road to being a hero (My hero academia AU prequel)

Hello everyone, Mr.E here wishing you a fantastic week! 

I’m here to say happy birthday @minthia-ren *throws confetti* WOO! and for your birthday I took a wild guess and made this *an idea give to me by @artgirllullaby thanks lullaby!*

So a few weeks ago i made a SVTFOE my hero academia au which you can read right here  https://mrevaunit42.tumblr.com/post/162875418322/im-going-to-be-a-hero-boku-no-academia-au-part   I had loads of fun with it and figured you know what would be really cool, making a prequel of it.

So while this is based on the my hero academia series *highly recommend* this is not exactly a one to one as i like to change up things in aus so i can write my own version of stories in that world. 

All Might and The Queen *this au’s Eraserhead* are the top heroes around but before they were they best, they were River Johansen and moon Butterfly, two students at UA high, training ground for all heroes and while River doesn’t technically have a quirk, he isn’t the only one with a secret. 

So this takes place before River gains one for all and is basically the first day of school of his freshman year.

The main bad of this story is basically an oc but there are two old foes who have cameos in this I was just too lazy to describe them. also no spoilers I made this background up

Have an amazing birthday minty and you too if it’s your birthday when you read this. Happy birthday! *yes I stole this from Caddy and I don’t care.* 

Notification squad: @hipster-rapunzel @nerdymetalhead @isolated-frequencies @ladyxgilex @thefandombytes 

“Wow….”

The words slipped out of young 14 year old River Johansen but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t contain the excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Despite the setbacks, despite the nay sayers, despite being told an undeveloped quirk was paramount to being quirkless, he was here. He was ready to follow his dreams and become a hero.

He was about to take his first steps into the giant, seemingly impractical building of U.A high.

River glanced down at his hand, a torrent of emotions running through him.

River was a rather unusual case in the world that bred heroes and villains overnight. Quirks were manifestations of great, weird and strange powers about 80% of the world possessed. A physical part of a person’s identity nowadays.

River technically had a quirk, a power hidden deep within himself. The problem was it was hidden too far inside and no one could hazard a guess how to get it out. The doctors referred to it as undeveloped: A quirk that had been forming but has stopped for no apparent reason. Since the quirk gene hadn’t finished developing the power, it simply did not work. It was just there.

River could still pass on his quirk to his children (Whatever it may be) and for all intents and purposes was registered as a quirk user with the government but the harsh reality remained: either the quirk would form one day or it wouldn’t.

Normal, more sane people would’ve been deterred, given up and gone out to seek normal, everyday lives but not River. He was neither of those words and he refused to allow his destiny to stop there. He would be a hero even if he had to claw his way from the bottom to get there.

And claw he did.

Without access to his quirk, River decided to focus on the one thing he could control: Himself.

He trained intensely over the last few years, building his strength and stamina to peak physical condition. He could run miles without tiring, bench press double his weight and picks fights with bears and come out the victor.

Not that he did fight any bears. That would silly and dangerous of course.

However, despite all his hard work and effort, no one would take him seriously whenever he declared he would be a hero. An undeveloped quirk, they reasoned, was just as bad as being quirkless. He would never be a true hero because it was simply too dangerous for someone who was basically human.

River never listened to them for a moment. He refused to believe such a thing and even if he had to lie to get into UA, he would get in.

Which, coincidentally he might’ve actually done.

River nervously glanced over his schedule, trying to keep a calm face amidst the happy go lucky teenagers that surrounded him as he focused on the most troubling aspect of the piece of paper he held in his hand

Quirk: Super Strength.

So he panicked. It was perfectly understandable given how left field the proctor’s question came from and it’s not like anyone was hurt. True his hand was a little swollen and bruised after defeating so many test bots but he passed 1st place with a nice chunk of rescue points on the side. He was living proof one did not need to have a quirk to be a hero.

Too bad he couldn’t actually tell anyone about that.

“It’s fine” River muttered to himself, anxiously fixing his school uniform, patting down his short blonde hair “it’s fine, no one will ever find out.”

“Find out what?” A voice asked quizzically.

River nearly jumped out of his skin as he faced the owner of the question. He felt his cheeks burn as he lifted his gaze higher to find a pair light blue eyes staring him at curiously.

She was nearly a head taller than him with long straighten pale blue hair. Her face was set in a stony indifference but her eyes spoke with more emotion than he had ever seen in anyone.

“That…I…” River spoke slowly, trying to will his mushy brain to work “Don’t know where I’m going! New campus you see and I’m lost. I’m looking for 1-A but I don’t seem to…”

“1-A?” The girl repeated “That’s my class. I can show you to it if you don’t mind.”

“T-thanks!” River beamed despite the nervous beating of his heart “I’d really appreciate…say, have we met before?”

The girl rose an eyebrow “Have we? I don’t seem to recall.”

River stroked his chin thoughtfully “Oh, I remember! You were in line to take the school exam! Sorry I don’t usually forget a face, especially one as pretty as…”

River gulped, quickly covering his mouth

If the girl caught River’s slip of the tongue, she didn’t let on

“Oh, the examination. I suppose I would look familiar. I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Moon Butterfly.”

River took her hand eagerly “River. Umm, River Johansen!”

“Pleasure to meet you River.” Moon said, gently pulling her hand away “Shall we head to class?”

“Of course, ladies first”

Out of pure instinct or perhaps more likely out of some misunderstood signal from his brain, River fell into a bow before he realized what he had done.

River’s blush worsen out of embarrassment and he was at a lost how to escape this situation without further embarrassing himself.

River could feel his heart stop as Moon’s cute giggles played on his ears “Alright my good sir, please follow me.”

River scratched at his neck as he dutifully followed behind Moon.

The grin on River’s face was priceless. His muscles ached from how wide it was but he couldn’t help it! First day of school and he’s already made a new friend and no one suspected he didn’t actually have a quirk. He learned a lot from his teachers and he was finally taking the first true step to be the hero he always dreamed he would be.

Everything was coming up…

“Please, that’s all my money! I need it.”

River stopped in his tracks, ignoring the noises of the city for a moment.

“Shut up and hand it over.”

River scanned the area, eyes narrowed in concentration when he picked up a tiny whimper coming from the alley ahead.

River ran as fast as he could, barely mumbling apologizes to those who were slow in moving out of his way as he pushed past.

He ducked into the narrow passage only to find a sickening sight.

There was a boy about his age in a regular school uniform huddled on the floor, crying and sniffling as three older students hovered over him menacingly.

He had never seen any of them in his life but his heart burned with a righteous fury as he noticed the very familiar attire that the three older teens wore.

“HOW DARE YOU!” River shouted, unable to contain his rage any further.

The three older students turned around, a smug sneer dancing on their lips

“Dare what?” The middle one spoke up, taking a step forward. It was clear he was the later “We’re just doing some business. Nothing to get involved with”

River clutched his fist tightly, trying his best to ignore the barely veiled threat.

“You are UA students” he told them through tightened teeth “You are supposed to be heroes. You are supposed to protect and serve others, not your own greedy desires.”

The leader scoffed dismissively “You’re a bit naive of you think that kid. Get out of here before I show you how the world really works.”

“Meddling when you don’t need to…” River dropped into a fighting stance

“Hmm?” The trio looked confused at the 14 year old.

River took a deep, calming breath before letting out the fiercest battle cry he could muster, his fists clenched as he raced forward with all his might

“…is the essence of being a hero!”

The leader remained unimpressed as the diminutive pipsqueak inched ever closer.

River threw himself at a lunge, ready to plant his fist firmly into the jerkbutts stomach as hard as he…

He nearly lost his balanced as the leader of the bullies vanished without a word and left him grasping at empty air and despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine upon seeing the goons knowing smirks.

River gasped loudly as all the air was knocked out of his lungs, the leader towering over him, his knee driven as deep as he could manage into River’s stomach.

River fell backwards and landed on the cold pavement.

“Tch” The leader grimaced, rubbing his aching knee “What the hell? You’re built like a wall.”

“H…how did you do that?”

“Oh the whole vanishing act?” The leader waved off the seriousness of the question “I can freeze time at will. Dangerous.”

“Yeah” the shorter goon chuckled dumbly “Except it only lasts as long as you can hold your breath.”

“IDIOT!” The leader screamed “Ugh, whatever. It’s more than a match for you pipsqueak.”

River weakly rose to his feet, fists at the ready once again.

The leader shook his head “You just don’t learn, do you?”

“I’m thick headed like that” River replied with a smug smile

The leader said nothing as his goons approached. The shorter of the two hands morphed into giant lobster pincers. The taller one’s arm turned into a massive of unrealistic bulk of muscles.

“Monster Arm, Lobster Claws teach him a lesson.” The leader grinned evilly before vanishing into thin air once again.

River braced himself as the two remaining bullies rushed towards him but before he could react to their attack, something basked him in its shadow.

River whirled around to find the leader of the scum grinning manically at him, his arm raised high.

“Hey!”

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks from the sudden outburst but while River had been expecting backup for his foes, the looks on their faces made it clear that wasn’t the case.

“3 against one seems a little unfair, doesn’t it?”

River frowned thoughtfully, the familiarity of the voice poking at his memories but he couldn’t fathom a guess who could that be.

“Now then” Moon’s voice called out “Give back whatever you took from that boy and let my friend go or else we’re going to have a problem.”

“Moon!” River cried out

The leader rolled his eyes as he turned to face yet another 14 year old brat that fancied themselves a hero.

“Look kid” he spoke condescendingly “Your little boyfriend made his choice and I need to teach him a lesson about sticking his nose in other people’s business.”

‘Boyfriend?!’ Despite the severity of the situation, River couldn’t stop the blush from forming on his cheeks.

The leader went on “So move along blue unless you want the same lesson”

Moon’s gaze was indifferent but River could see the cold, controlled fury brimming in her eyes.

“Well then” Moon said simply “I suppose I have my answer.”

The leader smirked as he inhaled deeply and…

Nothing. Nothing happened and instead of everyone else locked in place, he found himself straining, willing his body to move but his muscles remained frozen, unresponsive to his brain’s commands.

He glanced upwards only to find the brat had locked eyes with him, her light blue eyes a pale gray as her hair stood on end almost like it had been caught by a breeze.  

“Guys” He strained to talk “She’s got me locked in place”

“We’re fine” Monster arm turned to his partner in crime.

“yeah we can move.” Lobster claw answered.

“You idiots!” The leader scolded “That means she can only get one of us. GET HER!!”

“Right boss!” The pair scurried forward, their sights set on the teenager holding their boss in place but in their rush they had forgotten one tiny, angry detail.

River lunged at Lobster Claw, smashing the ¾ths teen, quarter lobster straight into a brick wall.

Lobster lashed out, flailing his claws out wildly but this wasn’t River’s first fight.

River ducked under the attack and tackled his stomach as hard as he could. Lobster claw wheezed as all the wind out was knocked out of him. he whimpered softly as he collapsed onto the floor.

River didn’t bask in his victory yet. His legs were already moving but he feared it was far too late as Monster Arm rose his hand and aimed it straight for Moon’s jaw.

The confidence never left Moon’s face as she nimbly dove under the jab, pivoting on the balls of her feet while her hair fell back into place, her eye contact with the troublesome leader broken for a moment.

Monster Arm turned around, striking outward with his hand in a wide swing but Moon was far too quick for him: She sidestepped the attack and caught the mass of muscles by the wrist. With a strained groan, she pulled Monster Arm over her shoulder and sent him slamming into the pavement with a satisfying thud.

Moon wiped her hands cleaned of non-existent dirt while she blew a loose strain of hair back into place “I’d say that’s victory for me.”

The leader disagreed silently as his muscles slowly began to relax and unstiffen now that  her gaze was turned from him. He flexed his fingers carefully, making sure he had free movement before attempting his quirk.

River made his way over to Moon, unable to keep the admiration out of his eyes “That was so cool Moon! I didn’t know you could do that. Umm, what was that exactly?”

“It’s my queenly gaze” Moon explained “but most people call it Medusa’s gaze. I can freeze anyone in place so long as I make eye contact with them. The side effects take a few seconds to wear off once I look…oh no!”

“That’s right” The leader appeared, towering above the two 14 year old’s without warning “It’s game ov…”

River moved to intercept but Moon was already on it.

Her eyes did not pale this time nor did her hair rise but her hand did and with it, a giant, shimmering blue copy appeared and squished the hapless leader of the bullies against the wall before forming out of existence without warning.

“That’s…not…fair” he whined as he fell onto the floor and unconsciousness.

Moon could feel anxiety building within her as she mentally cursed herself. She wasn’t supposed to use that so openly, so recklessly. Her mother warned her about what would happen if the wrong people discovered the secret about her second quirk. The secret of the Butterfly family….

A moment turned into seconds and seconds became dozens but eventually Moon turned to River, wondering what was going through his mind right now.

“You have a second quirk?”

Moon blinked, surprised at the excitement in his voice. Not curiosity or fear or confusion but genuine joy and giddiness.  

“Y-yes.” Moon uneasily answered “but I can’t really talk about it. I’m sorry River.”

Moon glanced downward sadly, wondering if she lost her new friend over her most guarded…

“That’s okay, I understand.”

Moon blinked in astonishment “What? Y-you do?”

River gave a cheerful nod “Of course. A second quirk is an unheard of thing. It’s a secret and one you need to keep. One I will keep.”

Moon could feel her heart skip a beat at the sight of River’s toothy grin, his blue eyes filled with sincerity.

“….I…” Moon began but River added “I’ll make it fair. I’ll tell you the secret about my quirk”

“Your quirk? You mean super strength?” Moon gestured to the imprint of Lobster Claw molded perfectly on the wall’s surface.

“Nah, that’s just because I’m strong from all the training” River revealed “but the truth is my quirk is undeveloped”

“Under….developed? I…I don’t quite follow”

“I have a quirk” River explained “But it hasn’t actually formed yet. I don’t know what it’ll be…or if it’ll ever actually become active…”

“River…”

“That’s why I lied” River went on “They would’ve never let me in the school if they found out I didn’t have a quirk.”

“Don’t be silly River” Moon shook her head “We have the support…”

“I don’t want to be support.”

Moon stared at River, his determination evident in his tone.

“I want to be a hero” River said “I want people to know everything will be alright. That no matter what is going on, they’re safe. That they have nothing to fear. You know why?”

“Why?” Moon asked gently

River gave the brightest smile he could “Because I’m there! I will be the symbol of peace and I’ll save everyone.”

Moon’s heart softened at River’s declaration, his puffed out chest and heroic pose, the smile that never left his face.

“I believe you River.” Moon told him softly.

River offered his hand “To friendship and secrets.”

Moon took it and was caught off guard how soft yet firm his hand was against hers

“To friendship and secrets.”

“So” River began as the two made their way to ensure the boy was alright “Have you ever considered wearing goggles?”

“No.” Moon answered uneasily “Why?”

“I think it’d help with your quirk. Really freak people out if they can’t tell who you’re looking at. Plus I bet you look really cool.”

“Thanks River. I’ll keep that in mind.”