#got the old cart out and scrubbed it down

[simplyghosting]

Well it only took my whole family leaving me home alone for 9hrs for me to get some of my own projects worked on 👍

[glambots]

BUBBLE, BUBBLE, MOON'S IN TROUBLE

Moondrop/Reader

Rating: SFW

Wordcount: 5k

A commission for @semidemi-minigod !! In which you give Moon a bath. But from Moon's POV.

It was difficult to say when it all started.

When he’d allowed himself to become so complacent. So vulnerable.

It wasn’t an entirely pleasant feeling. But you made it easier. Somehow.

Even now, when all he wanted was to slink away into the dark, far away from your pleading eyes and pursed lips.

“Come on, Moon. Please? You can look at it all if you want to. I won’t stop you. It’s really good stuff. Like, expensive stuff.”

You moved around the cleaning cart, picking up and brandishing several different items in his direction, with all the nervous excitement of a salesman trying to land a deal.

His eyes moved over each object laid out, atop the cart’s surface. Towels, fluffy and white. Bottles of cleaning solutions. Metal polish. Different kinds of scrub brushes. A few toothbrushes…?

He didn’t recognize any of the brands, which meant that they came from outside the Pizzaplex.

“…You bought these?” Cautiously, he picked up one of the little canisters and held it between his thumb and forefinger, turning the balm canister round-and-round like it was an oversized coin.

Polish cream. The fancy aluminum tin flashed under the dim lights, like the spark of a distant star.

“Yeah, I got them all from a hardware place that was nearby.” You smiled, hands roving over the assortment to grasp one of the smaller hand towels. His head tilted a bit when you held it out to him, a lopsided smile gracing your flushed cheeks.

“Feel these! I swear, I have never felt towels as soft as these.”

Curiosity burning, Moon placed the polish back down and reached for the towel. He fingered the soft, fluffy fabric in a bit of awe. It was much nicer than the old, tattered rags they had stashed away in the Daycare. Cleaner, too.

“They’re Egyptian cotton.” Your grin grew wider. “I got you a couple of sets, so you can keep some in storage for when they each get worn out.”

“…Keep?”

“Well…yeah! I mean, they’re yours now.” You gestured at the whole of the collection. “All of this is. I mean, I can keep it if you don’t have any room. But this is all for you. You and Sun, I mean. Obviously.”

He looked back and forth between you and the cleaning cart, utterly bewildered.

And, more than that, suspicious.

“Why?”

He watched your expression twist into bemusement, before you sighed dramatically and rolled your eyes.

“Because I can.”

“What if we…don’t want it?” He couldn’t stop the hint of amusement that crept into his voice. Even if there was a little bit of truth to it. It felt…wrong to accept this.

You just pursed your lips, brows raising so high they nearly touched your hairline.

“Well, that’s too bad. Cause I already bought it, and the store won’t let me return it. Which means either you take it, or I’ll just throw it all away.”

He grunted, looking back over the collection.

“Liar-liar, pants on fire.”

“Nope!” You popped the “p,” giving him a little half-shrug. “I’ve got the receipt, and it says no refunds allowed. You wanna see it? I’ll show it to you.”

Moon grunted again, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his chin and cheek.

To take it…or not…

It would be a shame to let it all go to waste.

But! But. He had one more question to ask you.

“Why me? Why not Sun?”

He can’t help but spit the name with a bit of venom. Out of the two of them, wouldn’t Sun be the easier target? Easier to work with. Easier to talk to. A better fit.

Better…in every way.

The look you give him is hard to place. It’s not hurt, not pity…a little frustrated.

A little sad.

“Do you not…trust me?”

There it is again: that feeling of wanting to hide away. A little tickle of guilt burning through his wires and sliding between his gears. He didn’t like it when you looked at him like that.

“No.”

“No, you don’t trust me? Or no, you don’t not trust me?”

“…No.”

You sighed, pulling off the bear-eared cap on your head to run a hand through your already messy hair.

“Alright. Alright…I won’t force you to do it. I just…” You looked down at the cart, eyes misty and lip quivering a bit. Like you were trying not to cry. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

And like that, he feels something in him melt.

“Fine.” He folded his arms over his chest, as if they’d serve as any sort of defense. He hates the way his whole-body tickles with heat when the sadness on your face melts away into relief.

Because it’s unfamiliar. Different.

He knows for a fact that what he’s feeling is something that he’s not supposed to be able to feel.

And yet, you make him feel it.

And that frightens him.

“Make it fast.”

Guilt is there again, gnawing at his insides when you reach up to quickly wipe the rim of your eyes clear, a breathy laugh bubbling up from somewhere inside you. Just like that, you’re so happy.

“Alright! Okay. Okay. Um, I’ll start with the—I mean, what do you want me to start with? I’ve got all this stuff, and I didn’t even think about it. God, where do I start?”

Moon watches you flit around the cart, hands moving over each object in a frenzy. You finally look up after a moment, going still.

“Sorry. Just. Give me a second, I swear I know what I’m doing.” Your eyes move to the floor, like you’re searching for something. “Do you want to sit down?”

Silently, Moon reached behind him, grasping one of the small child-sized chairs, and pulled it out to sit on without breaking eye contact.

“Okay.” You chuckled, a rag in one hand, a bottle of cleaning solution in the other. He could feel the hesitancy in your movements as you approached, like you were afraid he’d bolt at any second. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

For a moment, you hesitated, as if trying to decide where and how to get started. Moon simply sat still, watching your hands and eyes shift from his face to his arms, to his chest, then back up.

“Hang on, I can’t do this kneeling—my back hurts too much for that.”

You grabbed an undersized chair and pulled it up across from him, gently taking one of his arms and spraying a light amount of the solution across it. Moon couldn’t detect any chemicals, but it did smell slightly…fresh?

“This is just water and soap,” you explained, gently running the rag across his forearm, rubbing it between his fingers and over his palm. “To get rid of the surface stains. After that, I’ll use the stronger stuff.”

For a moment, there was a silence that stretched between the two of you. He wasn’t sure if it was comfortable or not but was more than satisfied to simply watch your tiny hands work their way up and down his arm.

You swapped to the other arm, wiping it down gently from hand-to-shoulder, then paused.

“Do you want me to do your chest or back first?”

Your voice was soft, gentle and coaxing.

Moon looked down at his arms, flexing his fingers as he thought for a moment.

“…Back.”

“Alright.”

Carefully, you placed a hand on his shoulder for balance, running the washcloth over his broad back. Moon twitched, an odd tingle rushing through his wires at the sensation of your palm rubbing little circles around the spot where the hook to his line protruded. He tried to ignore it, but you stopped again, having noticed.

“Sorry, is that uncomfortable?”

“No.” He scrambled for an excuse. “…It tickles.”

“Oh.” From the corner of his eye, he could see a tiny smile cross over your face. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“We’re not,” he replied, maybe a little too fast. “Just…sensitive.”

“Sure.” The tone in your voice betrayed that maybe you didn’t entirely believe him, but you didn’t push the issue. He was thankful for that.

The thought of your little hands coasting along his metal body, trying to find vulnerable spots to attack and manipulate—it made his head spin. That was the last thing he needed right now.

Things were quiet again, as you slid the rag over the thin pieces of metal that made up his hinged neck. Anxiety raced through his system as your hand moved dangerously close to the back of his face-plate—where the switch sat.

One wrong move (or maybe, one purposeful move) and he’d be forced into Rest Mode.

“Careful—” Before he could stop himself, his hand flew up, snatching your thin wrist. “Not there.”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry…” You quickly jerked back, panic flashing in your eyes. “D-Did I hurt you?”

He searched your face for any sign of wrongdoing. Something to latch onto.

He found nothing.

“…No.” Moon finally said after a moment, letting your wrist go. He felt a little bad as he watched you rub it, knowing that he’d probably held on a little too hard. “Just…not there.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You scooted around the edge of the chair, rag hovering just below the edge of his neck ruffles. “I’ll start on your chest now, okay?”

He didn’t say anything but leaned his head back to give you more room. That, and to keep from having to watch you run the cloth over the expanse of his chassis. Just the feeling of it was enough to have him balling his hands tight into fists at his sides.

There was so much intimacy in the action, as simple an action it was. Your face was so close, eyes squinted as you scrubbed at the stains splattered across his metal body. Sticky hands, paint, glue, dirt, grime—there was no telling what made up the mass of it all. But the feeling of it being wiped away was a very pleasant one.

He felt lighter, almost. Like the weight of the stains were being peeled off him.

You were extremely gentle when your hands moved down to his waist, one holding him slightly in place, the other moving the cloth down his sides and across his stomach.

Moon squirmed again. If he’d had a stomach, it would have been fluttering. Full of butterflies.

“Sorry, I’m almost done.” You breathed softly, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

“It’s fine.” He lied.

A few more moments later, you finally leaned back, and Moon felt like he could breathe again. Not that he’d ever needed to in the first place. But whatever pressure had been hanging over his head was finally lifted away, if only momentarily.

You pulled out another bottle, gently drenching a small scrub brush across its surface with the oddly colored liquid. It smelled very strongly of disinfectant, and he flinched a little.

“This is the strong stuff.” You explained, offering him an apologetic smile. “It’ll get rid of the tougher stains—you don’t have a lot of them, so this part should be quick. I’ll try not to go too hard with it.”

“Do what you need to. We won’t run.”

This part of the cleaning process wasn’t quite as pleasant as the rag and soap. But you had been true to your word—your touch was gentle. Maybe too gentle.

“Harder.” He urged, after a while of watching you scrub at his arms. “We don’t have all night.”

You blew a few stray hairs out of your face. “I don’t know how you got this dirty. When was your last bath?”

He…couldn’t remember. So, he didn’t say anything at all.

You paused to glance up at him, but after it was apparent that you weren’t going to get a response, you turned back to scrubbing.

The bristles of the brush felt…strange, against his metal skin. Not painful. Just uncomfortable. It made him want to push your hand away, but he stopped short of doing so. You were just trying to help, and it wouldn’t do either of you good for him to make this difficult.

So, like a child sitting through a well-needed (but unwanted) haircut, he forced himself to simply sit there, squirming every so often.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you.” You finally said, your voice cutting through the silence. “I wish I could do something about the stains on your pants, but you probably wouldn’t want me to, uh…”

Your hands moved through the air, making vague gestures, before you just gave up and offered him a little half-shrug. “Mess with those.”

Moon had to think about it for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Once more, you paused, blinking rapidly. “What? Oh, uh—I was just joking!”

A spark of mischief fluttered in his chest. Your cheeks were flushing, the rosy color reaching all the way up to the tips of your ears. You couldn’t look at him suddenly, and his internals picked up a rapid jump in heart rate.

“Nervous?” A giggle bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him, and he clicked his invisible tongue, wagging a finger in your face. “Naughty thing.”

The color on your face deepened to a shade that rivaled the ruby glow of his eyes.

“No! I mean—that’s not what I meant. Just—I just—” Your lips set in a thin line, breath coming quick and heavy.

“Want me to take them off?”

“What?”

He giggled again, quite enjoying the way your voice cracked.

“My…” His hands hovered for a moment, just above the hem of his pants. Then, he flipped them upwards, as if offering you his wrists. “Ribbons.”

Your face was so red that he wondered if you could even breathe properly. Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. Seeing you all flustered made that bouncy, electric feeling inside him tingle and spark.

For a moment, you just glared at him, shaking the scrub brush like you were considering smacking him with it. Then, you sucked in a breath, pinched the bridge of your nose, and slowly let it out again, lowering your would-be weapon.

“I hate you.”

He snickered again, reaching out a single finger to gently tap the tip of your nose. “Liar.”

You love me.

The words were caught in his nonexistent throat. He could say it, to push your buttons even further, but something held him back. Hesitation.

He wasn’t…quite ready to push it that far, yet.

You sighed dramatically, placing the scrub brush aside, only to reach for one of the toothbrushes he’d seen earlier.

“Are we playing dentist?”

“You’re half right.” Amusement sparkled in your eyes. “This is for, like, getting into the tiny places. The seams between your fingers and stuff. I’ll be using it on your face, too, so…”

“You came prepared.”

You grinned. “I told you I did.”

“All this for little old me?” He struck a bashful pose.

“Yes, you absolute goober. Now hold still…”

The feeling of the toothbrush sliding into his seams was much more pleasant than the scrub-brush. It still tickled, enough to make him twitch now and then, but it wasn’t overwhelming.

You were so gentle with the motions, making sure to get every nook and cranny that you could work the bristles into. Moon was a little shocked to see just how much grime the brush was picking up, but then again—it had been a very long time since they’d gotten any sort of attention in the “appearances” department.

Every time you swapped to a new area, you dip the brush into a small container of cleaner, swirling it around and wiping away the dirt from the surface of the bristles. But even with such meticulous attention to detail, it didn’t take long for it to become too dirty to keep using.

You ran through at least three brushes before you stopped to take a break.

“Seriously, how the hell did you guys get so dirty?”

Moon could only shrug. There were several components that contributed to their current state, but the biggest offender was plain out negligence.

You sighed and shook your head, grabbing a thermos from behind the stack of bottles and tipping it back. His eyes followed the movement of your throat every time you swallowed—a strange voyeuristic feeling.

A rivulet of water dripped from the corner of your mouth, rolling down your chin, then your throat, then over the dip of your clavicle and down beneath the collar of your shirt…he tore his gaze away. Focused on flexing his hands in his lap, then folded them together and squeezed, one foot tap-tap-tapping away, anxiously.

“Phew! God, I’m sweating like crazy. Is it okay if I take this off?” You fingered the neckline of your shirt with one hand, using the other to fan yourself with your hat.

He really wanted to say no. Because that would make him feel weirder.

But he couldn’t, when you looked at him like that. So earnest and innocent.

Moon nodded silently, looking away once more when you reached for the buttons. It felt…wrong, to watch you undo them. The sound of fabric rustling had his foot tapping just a bit faster.

“Okay! I’m good now.” You stretched your arms up above your head with a little moan. “God, that’s so much better.”

Moon found it hard to look at you directly, now that you were sitting there in a tank top. It wasn’t anything salacious, it was just. So intimate. There was so much more visible skin now, and his eyes kept moving over the muscles in your arms, across the curve of your abdomen…

The shape of your body was so much clearer now, and that made him feel…almost shy.

 “Alright, last up is your face. I’m gonna have to get a little bit closer—is that okay?”

That was not okay. His system was on high alert.

But what was he supposed to say? You’d already gone this far, he couldn’t just say no. Despite really, really wanting to.

For a moment he felt the gears in his head grinding, a substitution for the teeth and jaw he lacked. The tension in his body felt like a rubber band pulled too tight, seconds away from snapping. It got worse when he forced himself to nod, only able to muster up a little grunt of affirmation.

“Alright. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. He did.

This was just. Too close.

You slid off the children’s chair, half-kneeling with one of your legs on the ground, a knee between his legs to balance yourself.

Too close. It was too close.

You reached up, rag in hand. Your fingers gently cupped the side of his face, feather-light touch sending sparks through his body.

Too. Close.

He felt his whole body go stiff as you pressed the soapy rag to his cheek.

Carefully, you moved it up to his forehead, then down to his chin. Warmth trailed down the metal of his face, burning in the wake of your touch. So hot that he almost couldn’t stand it.

Your eyes moved over his face as you swapped sides, smoothing down the crescent curve of his nose so delicately that it tickled. If he’d had the ability to sneeze, he probably would have.

“Sorry.” Your teeth dug lightly into your lower lip. “I know this is a lot. You’re doing a great job, Moonie.”

That did not help his situation at all.

Your praise struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he clenched his fists so tightly in his lap that he felt his metal knuckles pop.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you. I really, really care about you.” You paused to suck in a little breath. “I mean that.”

He could barely hear what you were saying. It was like static was buzzing in his ears, growing louder by the moment. All he could do was focus on the shape of your lips as they formed around each word.

“I…” The words refused to come out, caught in his nonexistent throat.

“It’s alright.” You laughed a little, placing the rag aside and reaching for the final toothbrush. “You don’t have to force yourself. I’m almost done.”

That wasn’t it.

You were just so close. The warmth of your body, your smell, the shape of you…it was suffocating him. If he leaned in, just a little bit more, he’d be able to wrap his arms around you, to feel the softness of your skin against his—

The abrupt tickle of the toothbrush rubbing against the seam in his faceplate made him jerk back.

“Sorry! Sorry.” You scoot forward, the hand on his cheek holding him in place a bit more firmly. “I’m almost done.”

Your body heat is suddenly all around him, then. You’re leaning up in his lap, both knees on the chair, straddling his leg. He can catch the scent of shampoo on your hair, scented lotion on your skin. He could count every lash framing your eyes. Feel the heat of your breath on his teeth—

His hands hover in the air, fingers twitching sporadically, just inches away from gripping you by the waist.

He wants to tell you to back up. But his invisible tongue is tied in knots.

He can’t stop looking at your face. Staring at you, as you maneuver the brush into the little dots lining his crescent-sloped nose.

“You have the cutest freckles.” You say, your lips turning up at the corners.

His body makes a strange noise. A low, grinding metallic sound that could be as much a growl as it could a whine.

That’s all the warning you get before he leans in, gripping you tight by the shoulders, and all but mashes his face against yours in a pathetic facsimile of a kiss.

It lasts for only a few seconds, but those seconds feel like an eternity. The softness of your lips against his hard, unyielding smile has his processor running at full tilt, fans blasting at full force inside of his chest, trying to chase off a heat that threatens to melt his insides into a gooey mess.

He was brought back to reality, then, as his brain caught up to his body.

Moon leaned back, shame burning through him. He slowly unfurled his hands from your shoulders, bringing them up to cover his face.

Why had he done that?

“M-Moon, I—what—”

Your voice is so small, trembling, and that just makes it so much worse.

“No, no.” He rasped, clawing at his cheeks. You stumbled back as he scrambled out of the chair, knocking it over in his haste to put distance between the two of you. “Against the rules. It’s wrong. Shouldn’t have done that. No, no, no—”

“Moon, stop.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have done that. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid—” Everything was spiraling. The gears inside his head grind so hard that it hurts.

He had you. He had something good. And he ruined it.

Sun was right. He ruined everything.

He always ruined everything good.

“Moon, stop!” Your fingers twine through his own, trying to pry his hands from his face. He can hear the panic in your voice. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“This is bad. This is wrong. It’s wrong.” He wanted to hide. He wanted to crawl into the dark, curl up in the shadows, and stay there forever. Away from you. Away from the good thing that he ruined. His fingers try to find purchase on something, anything, to grab and pull and break. “Wrong, wrong, wrong—”

“Moon…!”

He feels your fingers curl in the thin fabric of his neck ruffles—and then you yank.

The kiss is clumsy, teeth clicking against teeth as your lips smash against his plastic smile.

Everything in him screeches to a violent, almost painful halt. You’re kissing him.

And you keep kissing him.

Every kiss is hard and passionate, lips moving across his face as far as you can get to, standing on your tiptoes. He feels you stumble a little as you lean up into him, and his hands instinctively land on your waist to help you keep your balance.

“Wait, we can’t—”

“Sit.” You command.

He sits, following your will like the loyal, obedient dog that he is. He can see the chair he knocked over in front of him, sitting in what was your seat, but that view is quickly blocked when you climb into his lap. Your hands are trembling as they cup the sides of his face.

For a moment, your mouth opens and closes. Your brow furrows. You look like you want to say something, but no words come out.

So instead, you lean in and kiss him again.

And he lets you. He holds your tiny waist in his hands and leans into your touch, allowing the chaos filling his mind to simply melt away as you pepper kisses across his face.

Cheeks, nose, forehead, smile, eyebrows, chin. Back and forth and up and down and over and over—every kiss has his head spinning.

One of his large, metal hands come up to cradle the back of your head, urging you even closer. His fingers thread tenderly through your hair. Amongst the chaos, your hat is knocked free, falling to the wayside.

The heat of your body burns so hot through the thin fabric of your tank-top, and with the other hand, he gently squeezes the flesh of your side. A part of him wants to slide his fingers lower, to dip his hand beneath the shirt to feel the soft skin beneath.

It’s hot, it’s hot, it’s so hot he can’t stand it—

But then he feels your tongue slide across the thin curve of his lower lip, and he jerks back in shock. The thin line of saliva connecting your lips to his snaps.

“I, uh—ha..ha-ha…” You laugh a little as you rush to stand, quickly reaching up to wipe the drool from your mouth. Your lips are bruised red and a little puffy, cheeks flushed a pretty pink color. “Sorry, I-I got a little…uh, carried away.”

“Naughty.” Moon purrs, wagging a finger at you playfully. “Naughty boy.”

He feels so light and…and happy. That’s the only way he can put the bubbly, buzzy, excited feeling running all through his body. He’s happy.

“Was that…was that okay? That I…did…that?”” You can hardly look at him, eyes darting back-and-forth. He can feel you starting to pull back slightly, and his fingers curl possessively over the curve of your hip, keeping you tethered.

“…Maybe.” He muses, head cocking to the side. “Maybe not.”

“Oh.” Your face falls.

“Maybe you should…do it again.” His head tilted to the other side. “To make sure.”

He can’t help but giggle when obvious relief washes over your face.

“You…” Again, your lips move, not quite forming around words, like whatever you’re trying to say won’t quite come out. You settle with an awkward, lopsided smile. “So, it is okay? That I kissed you?”

Moon nodded, swaying lightly in his seat. “Yes. It’s…okay.”

He really wishes you would do it again.

“Okay. Okay! Good. I-I’m…yeah.” You laugh nervously, your cheeks still stained pink. Your grin stretches from ear-to-ear. Then you look up at him, and your expression morphs into an apologetic smirk.

“Cause now I’ve gotta clean your face off again.”

He stops swaying.

“Ah….” Moon can’t stop the little unhappy grunt that escapes him. He can still feel the sensation of each kiss buzzing against his metal skin. “Do you have to?”

“Yes, Moon, I have to.” You chuckle again, once more reaching for the cleaning supplies. “You can’t walk around with drool all over your face.”

“I’ve done it before.”

You fix him with a look. “You can’t walk around with MY drool all over your face.”

“Boo.” He crossed his arms, slumping back in a dramatic pout. His hat slumped over his face, the bell jingling as it bounced off his nose. “You’re no fun.”

A little whistle of air escapes your nose as you settled the other chair in front of him, scooting forward until your knees were touching. You reach up, gently moving the bell back over the curve of his head and beckoned him forward.

Moon, of course, leans into your hand without hesitation.

And so, you resume where you’d left off, with you gently wiping away the remnants of your improvised make-out session.

“So. Um.” Your voice cracks a little. “Are we, like…I mean. Do you…like…me?”

“Yes.” He says simply.

“No, I mean. Uh.” You suck in a shaky breath, still struggling to look him in the eye. “Like…like-like. Do you like me. In “that” way? Like—like “that”?”

He’s not sure how he didn’t make that clear. He thought that he had.

But you look like you want to sink into the earth right now, so he can’t help but tease you a little bit.

“Maybe.” Moon crooned, daintily folding his hands between his knees and swaying side-to-side. “Do you like-like me?”

He can hear the breath catch in your throat, and you look away quickly, face flushing an even deeper shade of red.

So very cute.

“Y-Yeah. I do. A lot.” You inhale slowly, forcing your eyes to meet with his. “I-I care about you, a lot, Moon. You’re…you’re my best friend and I…I like you. A lot.”

He stops swaying (again).

“Hm. Good.”

Before you can react, he leans forward to gently bump his smile against your forehead. You, of course, stare at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

 “I like you…too.”

For a second, you look like you’re thinking about saying something—and Moon simply giggles when you lean in to kiss him again.

Maybe, if he asks nicely, he can keep this one.

[naffeclipse]

I have read all your non-human reader fics and unreasonable amount over. I am begging you with the small peice of soul I have left. If you drop a non-human oneshot or even js an IDEA for a fic or a oneshot I will devour that like I haven't been fed in years. (I love non-human readers so much its addicting.)

Hm, okay! I have an idea or two, and centaurs have been on the brain, so you're getting that.

You are a deer centaur. You're graceful and quick as you prance through meadows and wave through trees effortlessly. Humans rarely travel this far, but you've noticed two beings of metal that sometimes move through here, guiding humans to the other side of your vast wild lands. You hardly ever let them see you for a moment that's not simply your tail-end as you bound away, but they sometimes stop and stare as you go.

You grow used to seeing them, the brothers. The one has a visage like a sun with beams surrounding his head and the other wears a cap over his moon-crescent face. Their jackets are leather, the ones hunters like to wear. One wears old yellow and the other wears dark gray. The colors make them stand out, unlike the hunters.

They're quiet, unlike the noisy humans that stomp and travel through with their hand carts and whining cattle. When they return without people to guide them, they sometimes sit under the shade of a tree and rest for a moment. You nearly stepped on the sunny one when you were plucking flowers in the meadow and jerked upright to see his wide eyes staring up at you, his mouth agape in awe and shock from where he had been resting on the grass. He tried to say something but you ran away before he could.

The other caught you off guard when you were slipping to the creek. You found him downstream a few yards away, washing his hands and scrubbing dirt from the jolts of his wrists. You were too thirsty to turn away from a cool drink. His head lifted and he froze while you knelt down on your four legs and cupped your hands together to fill them with the creek water. He said not a word before you finished gulping and dripping water on your bare chest. He tried to when you got back on your hooves. You didn't catch whatever he said.

The season changes, and you wonder why you haven't seen the brothers for some time. All the grass has dripped into gold and the heat of the day has eased while the nights become blissfully cool. Do those kind of metal creatures get sick? Did they decide they were tired of guiding humans? You stray closer and closer to the wagon-rutted path they take between the trees, but you neither hear nor see signs of them. That's too bad. You continue jumping over ferns and galloping through open fields, ignoring that slight pang in your chest. You spend your days eating wild apples and carefully removing ripe berries from thorny veins.

Until you notice, during one munch under an apple tree, the glint of something silver like teeth in the shade of trees on the far end of the meadow. Your floppy ears swivel. You stop chewing.

Then a report of a gun explodes your senses. Two shots in the same thunderous cry. Pain sears through the meat of your back right flank and the soft point between your shoulder and your chest. You nearly buckle before scrambling upright and bolting. You hear curses and shouts. Hunters. Their jackets are brown and camouflage.

Blood trails behind you, marking every half-wilted leave and mud-dark trail. You stumble. Your mind is caught stiffly in the combined panic and shock of pain, and you collapse onto the path that bears wheel marks from wagons. You have to get up. You writhe, kicking up stones and dust, but you don't find a way to return to your hooves.

Then you hear voices. Your vision blurs and your panic spills out into a bleat from your lips before someone softly shushes you. Your skull is taken in gentle, metal hands. A cool touch falls to your lower half's ribs, and you feel sticky and hot with blood. A voice asks what happened. Something gives way within you. Refuge. Exhaustion sinks into your eyes, and you falter into the darkness.

When you wake, it's warm. You blearily realize you can smell something strange and sharp, like the medicinal herbs you collect to prevent invention, but it's smothered under something. Your head is cradled by a soft pillow. Slowly, you realize walls surround you, and it looks terribly similar to the log cabin you once followed the brothers to one season just to see where they ended up when they weren't roaming.

You're sprawled upon a cool, open floor with a sheet underneath you. Your fingers explore gingerly and find bandages around your shoulder and your flank, your tan fur clean of blood. You jerk upright before you hear "I'd take it easy. You lost a lot of blood."

You twist your head to find one of the brothers sitting on the floor beside the pillow you were just lying on. His half-moon face regards you quietly. Through an entryway, the other brother emerges and you flinch at his arrival. His eyes widen before his mouth splits in relief.

"Oh! Good, you're awake. You gave us quite the fright."

Pain dully throbs underneath the bandages, but you realize you're not going anywhere anytime soon, even if your instinct screams at you to flee. The brothers gently sit beside you and tell you their names. Sun and Moon. You regard them in the way you would regard a snake in your path, but they don't hiss or rattle. Instead, they chuckle and ask you in a dozen different ways if you're alright, and what happened. By the storms in their faces, you figure they can guess.

Sun gives you a cup of water, and Moon asks if he can check your bandages. You shift anxiously, almost spilling your drink while he gently peals back the sticky, ruddy-stained patches to see the sizeable hole blown into your lower half. You would have bled to death. You would have been someone's trophy.

"You're safe with us." Sun gently takes the cup from your trembling hand before you spill anymore. "You can rest as long as you like."

"I want to leave. Now," you say, and even when you try to kick up and get back upright, you only manage to interrupt Moon while he's stuffing cleaning herbs against your bullet wound. You gasp and then yelp from the searing pain of jostling your tender injuries.

"Don't move," Moon growls once. "You're going to start bleeding again if you keep that up."

It's enough to make your ears flatten and you freeze.

"He's right." Sun nods, understanding concern coating his expression. "You can't leave like this. I promise it'll only be so long as you need to recover."

This will take weeks to heal if not months. You hardly belong in a close-quarters house, much less in the care of two machines, but they hum and gently tend to you until you stop fidgeting and accept pills from a little pale bottle. The pain slips away, but so do you as Sun's fingers gently brush your floppy ears and chat quietly about illegal hunters in this area. Moon shifts his attention to your shoulder. You wince when he touches it, and he apologizes. There's a blood stain on the pillow you're resting on. You let him inspect the wound before he softly touches your arm and tells you to get some rest. It will help you heal.

And that's how you spend most of the season in the care of Sun and Moon.

[marwhoa]

request: fem! reader, romantic, one shot. so the idea was the rise! boys (individual.) with a s/o who has thick unruly hair that curls after being wet. (like.. if their hair was at their shoulder blades it would curl to above their shoulder.. speaking from experience) the reader always straightens their hair bc they find the curls kind of ugly?? and in some turn of events the readers hair gets wet and curls in front of em and get all embarrassed but they are consoled or sumthin!! very fluffy idea and it's not super deep :^( soz!

🝮 “ errand day ”

rise!boys x curly-haired!y/n

author’s note: no need to apologize, love :33 but wow this one took me a bit. I didn’t know if I wanted to do it cause I have straight hair, so this required investigation, interviewing, and research! Hopefully my findings resulted in a relatable read 😎 the request was for a fem!y/n, so there are some tidbits indicating feminine identity :))

word count: 4.9k

The schedule for today was nothing special, just a couple of errands and a visit to some oddball friends of yours. Going over the to-do list for today, you hummed under the warm water and scrubbed shampoo through each layer of your thick curls. Dread washed over you through fatigued arms, tired from hovering over your head and getting to work.

With a huff, you plopped conditioner into your hand, thudded the bottle down onto its shelf, and then worked the conditioner from the middle and end of your hair. How much easier would this whole thing be if your hair was straight—quicker, too. No need to walk through layers, ensuring each section got ample cleansing, just a simple touch and go. 15 minutes flat, and you’re out!

But no, here you were, having passed through more than enough songs in your shower playlist to constitute well over an hour.

“ What a bother.. ”

You mumbled, turning the nozzle for the shower straight to off and tugging down a shirt to scrunch your hair dry with. With a towel wrapped to dry the rest of you, you stepped out onto the bath mat, stared at the products, blow dryer, and straightener eagerly awaiting your daily routine, and felt your shoulders get even heavier.

Look at the bright side, surely you’ll grow muscles eventually from this, right? Having your arms up all the time, getting to work on such an unruly, mind-of-it’s-own head of hair?

Right?

After almost two hours of working your magic of taming the beast into straight, silky locks, you finally were released from that lab of a bathroom, ready to venture out and begin your errand run. First on the list, groceries! Your fridge was running pretty dry, and that just wouldn’t do, now would it?

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Mikey 💌

It wouldn’t truly be Mikey if you weren’t given periodical check-ups, messages asking how it’s going—and it definitely wouldn’t be Mikey if responding to these messages didn’t instantly open the door to any old conversation in the book.

♡ MICHEL

how successful is the grocery run

YOU

they were somehow out of bread? How is that even possible? The whole bread aisle, gone?

♡ MICHEL

ohhh…

ur not going to like this

[sent an image]

You gawked at your phone upon being sent a selfie stating your dearest, Mikey, and some sort of… giant loaf? Behind him?

YOU

Dang

Can you save me some bread off him?

♡ MICHEL

Gross

But tempting…

Maybe! ᗡᗡ:

You shook your head and pocketed your device, continuing to rummage through the aisles for the last items on your list. At least they have everything else. Unless some sort of “ Milk & Eggs ” monster intends to turn its head in your direction. With a cart full and a list fully crossed out, you went on forth to pay, bag, and head back to base to drop off the goods! Next on the list was going to b—

“ Y/N! ”

There was no chance to respond or even look before you were swept up in familiar arms. Grip tight on the plastic bags, a scream got caught in your throat as your eyes locked with Mikey’s. Why hadn’t he told you the battle closed in on where you were? Not a text or a call? He placed you down a couple streets later, flicking his nunchucks to return to the battlefield—but, not without planting a kiss on your cheek.

“ Sorry, didn’t want you to become toast! ”

With a wink, he shot off, and your hand dove for your phone to send a text.

Of course, that’s when you saw the incoming messages.

NOTIFICATIONS

You have four new messages!

———————————————————

♡ MICHEL 1m ago

I SEE U, GOING 2 GET U K?

♡ MICHEL 3m ago

Aw man, Savers Saturday, look, Doughy’s made it … (expand message)

♡ MICHEL 4m ago

You’re at Anchor’s Market, aren’t you?

♡ MICHEL 4m ago

Are you on Fourth and Avenue?

… Alright, so maybe he won’t get chewed out. You laughed lightly, continuing home to drop off groceries when suddenly a blur zipped straight past you and completely drilled through the wall beside you. Stunned silent, you slowly followed its aim of trajection to see none other than “ ♡ Michel~ “ getting launched down Fourth street, taking parts of the street with him.

So much for not becoming toast, huh?

“ Mikey! ”

You rushed to his side after he hadn’t popped straight up like usual. He was a bit dazed, staring at the sky when you approached.

“ Whoa.. what a pretty Angel.. ”

“ Why you—shut up, you flirt, are you okay? ”

“ I am now.. ”

He groaned, taking your hand as you helped him up. Leaning against you for a second, he inhaled sharply then jumped up.

“ Alright, I’m ready! Oh, but you’re too close to the fight, Y/N, I should—“

You shushed him with your index against his lips, shaking your head then pointing at the rather large… behemoth… Breadhemoth? No? Okay.

“ I’ll be fine, just focus on thaaAAHH! ”

Your eyes trailed up to yet another projectile, this time zeroed in on Mikey, and he was quick to pull you close and turn with his back to the bullet.

With a heavy THUNK, the bread ammo bounced off his shell and managed to pulverize a fire hydrant right beside you both. Right as the water spouted out, the creature neared. Alongside it came Mikey’s brothers, whose attention zeroed in on the geyser shooting from the damaged hydrant.

“ Michael, you genius! ”

Shouted his brother, Donatello, as he gestured to the water. The brother in red, Raph, followed his point and nodded, slamming his fists together with a grin.

“ Right, water will make this big guy all soggy! ”

Just as they instantly went along with this plan, Mikey was a step away from joining before all his boyfriend senses shot off at once. Subtle sniffling reached his ears, and he was quick to whirl back around to make sure you hadn’t been hurt.

While physically intact, you were sopping wet, and it was then that his attention trailed straight to your hair.

“ St—Stop LOOKING, Mikey! ”

Your hands rose to feebly hide the growing lion’s mane, your straightened curls frizzing like an aggravated cat’s fur. All those hours of work, ruined by some run-of-the-mill New York trouble—and in front of your boyfriend of all people, who had yet to see your hair’s natural state. Before that sight, you expected disgust or, or insults—something! Anything, along the same caliber as you thought when you would see such thick curls in the mirror.

Instead, the opposite came. A soft voice and delicate touch, grasping for your wrists and gently bringing them away from your face. You flinched, jerking them back, but his motions remained. Soon, you relented and let him move your hands back to your sides.

“ Hey, Y/N, it’s okay. Did that scare you? ”

Picking up on what might’ve actually upset you, he danced around it, and you simply averted your gaze.

“ Your hair—“

“ Don’t. ”

“ No, it’s—I love it. ”

You stiffened, taken aback beyond belief. It was a reaction unlike any you had expected. Many people before him had less than savory words to say, like “ fix that rats nest before you go out! ” or “ wow, you’re not even going to try? ”, or even “ wow, bad hair day? ”.

Never love, though. He loved your hair? Even, even in such a sopping, frizzy state?

“ You’re fibbing.. ”

Your lips quivered into a pout, and inadvertently you tugged for your wrists to be free.

He let go, but only to wipe clear your rolling tears. Mikey leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead, tucking and brushing some unruly clumps of hair out of your face.

“ Of course I do, just look at it? There’s a bit of heat damage, but for the most part it’s so long and healthy! What’s not to love? You should wear it like this more, in fact! ”

With such a genuine, beaming smile, there was no doubt in your mind whether he was telling the truth or not. Through in and through out, he loved your hair..

Maybe..

Maybe you could learn to love it, too…?

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Raph 💌

Would it really be an errand run without Raph jumping to the opportunity to tag along in some way, shape, or form? Albeit out of the public eye, down winding roads with narry a soul in sight, Raph accompanied you on the trek to Silver Market. Partly to spend whatever time he could with you, partly to protect you from whatever threats lurked down New York streets—no matter the hour!—, and partly because he just didn’t fancy the idea of you carrying heavy groceries home alone.

Not like you minded any of these things. His time was always appreciated—so, you snuck a kiss on the cheek just before the Market’s street.

“ I’ll try to be quick, okay? ”

“ Take ya time, Y/N, ‘m in no rush. ”

He returned the kiss, stepping back to meld into the shadows in a way that never ceased to amaze you. … or scare, if even just a teensy bit, because how the hell?

But whatever, you turned on your heel and ducked into the air conditioned market to begin going down your list.

At the same time, Raph waited outside, watching the people pass by, none the wiser of his presence. His eyes trailed to the sky above, noting the diminishing sunlight. Odd, considering the hour, but as his eyes caught the darkened clouds, it made total sense. It must’ve been bad weather moving in.

Raph turned to the alley’s entrance, searching for you. As a smile crept on his dreamy, dazed expression, he couldn’t help but think of how much happier he was when you were brought up. Without fail, the thought of your cute li’l self brought smiles for days. And who would he be, if he didn’t fight to protect you?

See, he and his brothers used to fight for the sole purpose of protecting the New York people, but after meeting you?

Well, he couldn’t help but be driven to clear the streets of crime just so that you would have a safe place to be. Evil-doers should always beware of a hero with something to protect, because he would stop at nothing—

Nothing. He thought, watching you finally peek the corner and rush over, to ensure you stayed safe.

You trotted down the alley, looking every which way for him. Assumedly he would have stayed here, right? Unless something happened? You fished out your phone, two seconds from shooting out a text to get his attention when a shifting of shadows caught your eye. Of course, you smiled as your beloved hero stepped out with a toothy grin, you should have known he was staying there.

“ I finished! ”

“ Raph can tell. Let me help—“

He bent down, slipping the bags from your hand with ease, and purposely leaving you with the lightest one. You rolled your eyes playfully and began walking the way back. It wasn’t long before you noticed the dark overcast, not the distant rumbling as you looked over your shoulder towards its direction. It’s going to rain soon, you thought, twirling your straightened locks in your fingers.

“ Yer nervous. Scared o’thunder? ”

You shoved Raph away, laughing, as he neared you with that goofy grin of his.

“ You could say that. More like I just don’t want to get wet. ”

He nodded thoughtfully, picking up the slack.

“ Then let’s get movin’ ”

Despite the quickened pace, the rain was faster and eventually caught up with you both right before you reached the steps of your complex. Both of you rushed in, slamming the door behind you and breathing heavily from the sprint. Slouched over with your hands resting against your knees, you couldn’t help but notice the cascading locks that were curling up. Grocery bags thudding against the floor as your hands made quick work to push the hair behind you, out of your face in a feeble attempt to hide it behind you. As lighting illuminated the room, it’s loud KAKOOM echoing, Raph noticed your uncharacteristic quietness.

“ Y/N? ”

Raph rose to full height once he caught his breath, watching you with a confused look as your face flushed with embarrassment. Tears welled up and fell down your cheeks in large globs, immediately startling him.

“ Wh—! What’sa matter, Suga’? ”

Just as lightning flashed outside, Raph was right in front of you with his forearm resting against the door. Leaning down, his hand held your face delicately and wiped away the tears.

“ Is it the storm? ”

You shook your head, pushing him away. Realistically you could never move him, but of course he wouldn’t do anything to upset you, thus letting himself be knocked aside. Raph watched your frame retreat deeper into the apartment, likely to your room, and waited a couple moments before he pursued.

It wasn’t hard to pick up the soft sobs over the rain, but soon a gentle knock on your door roused your attention.

“ Go away, Raph.. ”

You slurred your words through tears, rubbing them away while cursing your ruined hair.

“ Y/N, suga’ please, can Raph come in.. ”

No fair, you thought as your hand reached for the door knob, he knew using a voice that gentle would always get to you.. With a subtle click, the door would creak open until finally the green and red peeked in. He found you on the floor and sat.

“ Oh.. Is it ya hair? ”

Cocking his head curiously, you couldn’t help but sneer and avert your gaze. That was answer enough, apparently, since he seemed to exhale and mutter “ thank pizza supreme ”. Confused, you stared at him with enraged sadness. He was thankful? Glad you were upset about your hair? You opened your mouth to chew him out, only to be tugged into his lap and hugged.

“ I was worried it was sum worse. Why’s ya hair the problem, ‘cuz ‘s not so straight no more? ”

The gentleness with which he twirled his finger in your hair had quelled your anger if not just a teensy bit.

“ Yeah, it’s… It’s hideous, unruly, I hate my curls! ”

Your hands rose to yank on the curls that dared rear their heads from the rain, but big warm hands caught yours before they could.

“ Ya hate ‘em? But suga’, they’re a part a’ya, and I love all o’you. What’s to hate? ”

Sending it wasn’t a question but rather a statement, you held your tongue and watched him.

“ The way they frame ya face, how they have no single direction, well I’d be damned to not love ya in any form, Y/N. Ya hair makes ya look like some cute vixen, and they, well.. ”

He seemed a bit bashful, escaping your gaze and shifting his view to all over the room instead.

“ I like ‘em cause they remind me a’my spiky shell, what with how they jump out atcha! ”

With a beaming smile that big, you couldn’t help but snort and bury your face in his chest.

“ You goof.. ”

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Leo 💌

Leo wasn’t one to let you go long without hearing from him, but as you ran your errands and eventually made it back home, the silence on his line had been a bit unnerving. So, with the produce shuffled into your fridge, cabinets restocked, and every inch of the house replenished to all its glory, you swiped up your phone and gave him a ring.

“ Alright, tough guy, what’s the deal? ”

You playfully growled, tapping your fingers along the counter as he sputtered confusedly at the end of the line.

“ All day, and not a word from you? What am I, chopped liver? Doesn’t the sweetest girlfriend to New York’s hero deserve even a little bit of ‘phone blowing-up’ treatment? ”

The laugh on the other side was enough to enliven you. Leo continued talking, so you straightened up and made your way to the couch before stopping to almost a skidding halt.

“ Wait, you’re where—?! ”

Looking to the window behind your TV, the silhouette on the fire escape made a scream catch in your throat. It was none other than Leo, who hung up and came in after sliding open the window.

“ I said I’m here, now get on your finest swimsuit, mi amor, for I have found the world’s greatest spot! ”

“ Wh—Leo, What?! It’s—“

You whirled around, staring at the clock displayed on your oven.

“ It’s 8 pm, Leo, can’t it wait til tomorrow? ”

“ Nonsense, now hurry and change before I change you myself. ”

His hands grab your shoulders, tugging until you’re at the door of your room. He taps, faking as though he’s wiping dust off, then gives you a push into the room. Leo winks before closing the door, likely waiting right outside for you, so you kick away an imaginary rock and start to change.

“ NoNsEnSe, he says.. ”

Grumbled under your breath, you adjust the straps on your top while in the mirror. Once done, your focus settles on your hair, still in moderately good condition from this morning’s straightening. Better safe than sorry, you conclude, as you neatly pull your hair up with a bandana that just so happened to match your top. Strands are tucked away before you give a curt nod and go to open the door.

“ I heard that, by the way. ”

Leo looks down at you with a side eye, grinning as you roll your eyes.

“ Whatever, lead the way, bully. ”

One second, you’re standing in the hallway of your New York apartment, the next second you’re staring across an inky lake that’s captured the sky’s likeness, with stars rippling like fish on it’s surface. A gentle breeze rolled by, tugging at your hand, beckoning you forwards to greet the water. Stress, fatigue, even fear slip off your shoulders, as though the lake itself were taking the uncomfortable coat off to hang up on a hook.

“ Leo… ”

Your voice was meek, paling in comparison to the sight laid out before you.

Leo smiled, letting you take in the view a bit longer. He stepped down the dock, it’s creaking catching your ear as he neared its end. Even the groaning wood under the weight of its visitors was charming.

“ I’m waiting.”

Leo smirked, standing in his signature “ go on, applaud me—PRAISE me ” pose. You simply rolled your eyes and approached him, dropping down to sit at the dock’s edge. Your feet dipped into the abyss, met by a crisp temperature that begged your immersion into the depths.

“ Fine, this is pretty good.. YOU did good, though I could’ve been spared the on-the-spot forced dress-up. ”

The water was disturbed by Leo leaping in, to which you shielded yourself from the splash back. He was greeted by you scolding him for not giving a warning, brushing it off with laughter.

The night air was filled with banter between two lovebirds, with Leo trying his damndest to coax you in with him, and you’re dodging each with yet another quip. As the minutes melted into hours, the stars couldn’t help but focus on you both. Their lights reflected in your eyes, blinding Leo into a lovesick haze as he couldn’t do anything but just..

stare…

“ What, is there something on my face? ”

Confused, your hands searched your face, tucking aside a strand. Inspection complete, nothing out of the ordinary, you looked back to Leo and found his expression had shifted to a more devious one.

Uh oh.

You somehow knew what was coming next.

“ Leo—Leo, no, don’t you dare—-“

His hand shot out, grabbing yours.

“ LEO—NO, NOOOOO—!!! ”

Yanked forth, the world seemed to slow down as you screamed out, plunged under. Your eyes peeled open, stinging slightly, but catching a glimpse of the purest enjoyment painted across your boyfriend’s face.

As you both resurfaced, with his laugh now audible, you gave a huff and wiped tears and dripping water from your face.

“ You play too much, Leo, I said no! ”

His expression dimmed, dropping like a fallen curtain as he watched you grab the floating bandana. Enraged, hurt eyes glared at him, but he couldn’t focus at all on them as your hair began curling into the most gorgeous display he had ever laid eyes on. This was the first time he saw your hair this way, not straightened, but rather..

“ And stop staring, I know it’s ugly! ”

“ Stop that. ”

“ Wh—? ”

Stunned, you looked to him. There was no hate in his eyes, no disgust or repulsion. Your frizzy curls were there, bright as day, yet here he was staring at you as if your beauty never faltered…

“ Stop calling yourself ugly—frankly it’s an insult to me, the king of gorgeous faces who would never dare date an ugly woman—but even worse, it’s an insult to the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of calling mine. ”

Leo’s hand cupped your cheek, pulling you in to plant a kiss on your lips.

“ But, how—why aren’t they ugly to you? ”

“ Uh, because I said so, that’s why. ”

“ That’s n—LEO! ”

Definitely done as a move to win this argument, Leo’s arms wrapped around yours firmly. Your body lifted straight out of the water before being dunked unceremoniously.

While your hair was already wet, he didn’t have to make it more wet!

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Donnie 💌

By the time your errands adjourned, it was a quarter past 4, and you were heading home. The walk had been rather tame, as quiet as it could be for a city regularly wrecked by mutants, aliens you name it. Today would have gone down in the books as the most normal, had you not gotten a message from your beloved requiring your presence at the soonest available time. Something about a new project coming to its end?

Whatever it was, you shot off a response that said your company would come once groceries were up. The other errands planned for the day could wait, especially since you were just itching to see whatever it could be that had him so needy for you to be in the lab.

“ Bags empty, trash cleared away, house—“

You gave a once-over to your living room and kitchen countertops before nodding with a hum of approval. It would appear that Donnie’s chariot would arrive, post-haste, without a second to spare.

Thus, keys in pocket, jacket donned, and shoes tied, you left your apartment complex and made your way towards the least shadiest alleyway to simply “ disappear into. ”

In record time, you were approaching the lair from the winding underground pathways, and giving quick hellos to each brother you passed. Your being in the lair wasn’t exactly a rare sight, but whenever you were here, it was usually always for Donnie. So, none of the brothers would really hold you long—lest they wanted to risk a brotherly wrath.

“ Donnie~? ”

Your sing-songy call was accompanied by a rapping upon his lab’s doors, which slid open shortly after with a “ fwssh ” and gust of smoke. You coughed, wafting it away as you stepped into the room.

Unbeknownst you you, your hair had already began reacting to the rather humid lab, lifting into the curls they so dearly longed to return to.

“ Ah, Y/N, your timing is much appreciated! ”

While his voice came from god knows where, your eyes landed upon his figure emerging from curtains that you were sure had to have been a new addition to the lab. Maybe his experiment was behind there? His greasy hands were rubbed into clothes, leaving behind oil marks as he pushed up his goggles and shot you his characteristic grin.

“ Just behind this curtain is a contraption that shall better the lair, an update to my previous ‘betterments’—a betterment to the betterments, so to say! ”

Whatever point he was trying to make went straight over your head as you simply nodded affectionately, trying to follow as best you could.

“ Right, right, Donnie. But, dear, can you please enlighten me with what was sooooo important you had to interrupt errands day? ”

Without a word, it seemed as if a lightbulb went off in Donnie’s head as he nodded and reached for the curtain.

“ So, it should come to no surprise to anyone how much the new lair has needed robot assistants! ”

“ It really doesn’t—“

“ Nonsense, so of course you are the first one I thought of when I felt Odie should be introduced to someone! ”

“ Oh you’ve named him already? ”

You leaned your weight on your left leg, hand perched neatly on your hip as you waved your hand. Donnie shushed you as he reached for the curtain to reveal his newest creation!

“ Ta-da! ”

Behind the curtain stood the blocky silhouette of a robot—one made with parts you were sure you recognized from a certain animatronic, but never mind that. There was something a tad bit weirder.

“ Why Odie? ”

“ I show you my genius, and you linger in the name? ”

To your eager nod, he could only give a loud sigh, literally labeled aloud as “ loud sigh. ”

“ Odie, otherwise known as 0-D-1-3, his model number. Now—“

Before he could turn back to the bot, a loud clanking sound got both of your attentions.

“ Oh, that’s not good—“

“ What’s not good?! ”

Both of you stared directly at the bot after it took a hefty step forward, clattering down a hammer to hit the floor. Its oculars shifted mechanically around the room before settling in you and Donnie. An unsettling smile began to grow on the analog mouth it had, but just before it spoke, its foot stepped on the fallen hammer. Slipping immediately, the creation slammed into the lab’s hard floors, buzzed and circuited, then promptly stopped.

“ … Dam—“

As though censored by an otherworldly being, the bot exploded, sending Donnie diving for you instantly to shield you from harm’s way. The sprinklers caught on shortly after the smoke reached the ceiling, and he simply exhaled annoyedly into a recorder as he went on about “ attempted 26, failed ”. He continued to look over you, free hand resting right beside your waist as he detailed this outcome.

You, on the other hand, were both spooked by what happened in a matter of seconds, and also the water raining down in you. There wasn’t even a chance of you processing how close your boyfriend was, nor the precarious position, all paling in comparison to the heaviness waying over your chest at the way your hair was gradually lifting off your shoulder. Shrinking from the long silky locks, you were sure that unruly mess of curls were all coiling up into their snakelike appearance that you cursed every morning in the mirror.

Whilst speaking, Donnie’s eyes wandered until they caught your teary, paled expression. He had noticed the new hair style, but the importance of that was far below the importance of ensuring you were okay.

“ Dearest, what’s the matter? ”

He searched your body for wounds, calling Sheldon to bring a towel as the sprinklers halted. Once brought, he wrapped you in it, but flinched when you tried to push him back.

“ Hey—“

“ Don’t touch me—don’t look at me! ”

Baffled beyond belief, all Donnie could do was slouch back and watch you with analyzing eyes. His gaze scanned and scanned, searching for what might have caused such a reaction, but all he could come up with was: cold & wet, hair no longer straight like usual, shoved to the floor after robot exploded. He could only hope you wouldn’t blame him for struggling to figure out the problem.

“ I… I’m sorry if that spooked you.. ”

“ It’s not that. ”

You answered, flinching when he suddenly rose his voice and asked “ then what is it? ”, a statement leaking with desperation and a tinge of fear. You scrunched your eyes closed, closing in on yourself with a tight hug, balled up beneath the towel.

“ It’s… My hair, I.. I spent so long on it, just for it to turn into this ugly mess.. ”

Donnie was confused, something you couldn’t blame him for. After all, you were diligent in your hair-straightening or concealing the curls, so this just might have been the first time he’d seen them in their true nature. What you didn’t account for, though, was the hurt expression he shifted into. Silence lingered for a bit before his gaze shifted to the device on his arm.

After a bit, even you were curious. He had nothing to say? Was he just going to let you sit there and cry?

“ What’re you doing? ”

“ Checking my data. ”

“ Huh? ”

Donnie looked up, scooting to sit beside you and showed some sort of pie chart projected. He twirled a stylus and used it to slide the projection, focusing on certain parts.

“ Mhmm… so, this is the breakdown of your identity—this aspect, ”

He points to personality, glancing to you to make sure you’re watching.

“ See that is a huge chunk of who you are, and this part, intelligence? Obviously that is high as well. ”

You wiped your eyes, trying to figure out why any of this was important. He continued on, pointing to bits and then pointing out how integral they were to your being.

“ What’s your point, Donnie.. ”

Defeated, you sighed out. Tears dried, heart heavy, curls..

Unfurled.

“ My point is, Y/N, that ‘ugly’ has no place in your data. I for one am a genius who speaks in strictly facts, so your insistence on false information? Highly insulting. ”

His hand cups your cheek, and you welcome the touch with a scrunched, pained expression. Tears threaten to spill once again.

“ You’re beautiful, my dearest, every bit of you. That does not exclude your curls, which are also you. ”

Donnie leans in, placing a soft, lingering kiss upon your forehead. You grip his hand, which then turns into interlocked fingers, and sob softly into his chest. He rubs circles on your back, and you can’t help but begin to hear the seedlings of thought in your head say nice things about your natural hair.

“ I love you, Y/N. ”

[fuck-customers]

fuck two of my coworkers, ok. gonna be a long one.

so i’m kind of a floater between stations in the kitchen, originally hired on for pantry (cold apps, salads, and desserts) with occasional training on expo and line. since our old dishwasher got himself fired, i’ve mostly been doing that for the last couple months. for the last two weeks we’ve been having issues with the garbage disposal sink getting backed up and not draining, fucking up one of the pipes in the wall to make it overflow—this has made doing dishes in a timely fashion with one person on that station vastly more difficult.

as a result of the above, the chef (C) tells me last night to come in an hour earlier than my original schedule “so you don’t get fucked on the dishes during brunch rush.” unbeknownst to me, he also tells the main pantry worker (J1) that she needs to ask me for help to make sure she has all her prep done before brunch.

i don’t find out about that until i’ve already been working for upwards of half an hour on making sure all the stations have the dishes they’re supposed to and any leftover from last night have been put away. this includes multiple trips to and from pantry to cart stacks of plates, during any of which J1 could have asked me to help when i get my hands free. instead, it’s the SOUS CHEF (S) who stops me on my way to prep for a weekly cleaning task to tell me to ask J1 if she needs help.

i’m just like, yeah ok sure, and i go to ask her. she’s like “🫤 weren’t you supposed to be over here helping me anyway” and i’m like “…i don’t know, C told me to come in for dishes, i’m just going off of what he said.” and ask her what she needs help with. she puts me on a non-crucial task that ends up fucking us over because we’re completely out of one of our more popular menu items for pantry, and she and the other floater/currently mostly pantry guy (J2) haven’t been getting their prep done right/at all. meaning i have to drop everything while the brunch rush is starting to get everything prepped before i can even make the item for it to be served. (put a pin in this. 📌)

brunch ends, we each get our 15, i come back from break and ask C where he wants me, “so i’m back on the same page as the rest of the kitchen.” he tells me to continue helping at pantry, making filling for deviled eggs. i don’t know the new recipe and he hasn’t written it down yet, so he tells me to plate desserts instead. J1 comes back from break right then and starts plating desserts. J1 does know the new filling recipe. i just kind of sigh and go back to C and ask him to just show me how to make the new filling. C, instead, walks back to pantry with me, and tells J1 to swap roles with me, telling her to make the filling while i plate cakes. she doesn’t fucking hear him because she’s got headphones on and loud, to the point that i have to get her attention three times before she even looks up.

i say, “C wants us to switch.” she straight up rolls her eyes at me and starts moving her dessert setup. we have one working outlet that we can plug the food processor into in the pantry area, where the fuck does she think i’m going? i clarify “no, C wants you to get started on the filling, and let me finish the cakes” and she goes ��oh” before moving to start the filling. the food processor turns out to not be working, so she asks me to relay that to C, and i do, and when i come back she’s fucking plating cakes again. i remind her that C told me to do that and she just goes “🙄 i got this, go do one of your other tasks” so i just get fed up with her and her shit and spend the next two hours getting some hardcore catharsis in by sweeping, deck scrubbing, and mopping the dry storage area. the rest of the night with her goes pretty smooth because i’m mostly able to ignore her while i prep for tomorrow. she’s been kind of a cunt since a friend of hers, A, got fired/walked out/i’m fuzzy on the details anyway, so like. oh well. seethe and mald but stop making your problems mine, yk? let me do my fucking job.

📌 circling back now to that pin. the popular food item in question requires sliced cured meat. there was some cut, but only enough for about 3 of them before being left with unservable scraps that C doesn’t want on the plate. so i take a fresh meat log to the slicer, only to find it in an absolute STATE. it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned all fucking month. there’s old yellowing grease all over it and bits of dried meat scraps/flakes caked everywhere on and around it that have gone past dried and starting to turn rancid—like, this shit was turning green.

i am, of course, disgusted and appalled, because making and prepping for this particular menu item was easily 85% of my job when i was focused on pantry, and the worst i ever let the slicer get was getting too busy to remember to clean it before the end of one shift and doing it first thing when i came in for the next. the worst you’d find then was some dried meat flakes that had turned a slightly darker pink. so of course i immediately set to cleaning the slicer before even thinking about putting anything intended for human consumption near it.

C comes back to see what’s taking so long bc i usually have a full log sliced by that point. i’m still in the process of cleaning the slicer, so i point out what mess is left (i had about a third of it done by now; it was Bad) and he goes “oh, that might have been J2” and tells me to hurry and slice just enough for a few more orders, and i can finish slicing after they’re arranged for service.

i come back to pantry, where J1 is now running window to expo and J2 is arranging the non-meat parts of the item. i say aloud for both of them, “hey, just so you know, we need to wipe down and sanitize the slicer after we’re done using it.” J2 straight up says “well, it wasn’t cleaned the last time i had to use it,” which just hits me with such an intense wave of anger that i go nonverbal for a minute while i focus on plating. like. so you agree, you admit it, you didn’t fucking clean it after you were done. J2 has been risking unleashing food poisoning on our entire clientele for god knows how long.

later, after dinner service, i’m helping the temp on dishes—i’m hand-washing mostly pans and other things that won’t fit in the machine in the three-tier manual sink, while the temp is running the machine, and J2 has been putting the trays of dishes away as they come out. as i’m filling the manual sinks i turn to J2 and say, “if you wanna just focus on putting things away, i can knock out the washing here,” and he agrees.

and then he proceeds to completely fucking ignore the rapidly filling sanitizer sink in favor of continuing to put away the machine dishes. even when i move things onto the counter between the sanitizer soak and the “out” side of the machine, taking up almost all of the available space to give myself room to keep cycling through the dishes, he continues ignoring it, simply lifting the dish machine trays over and past the growing pile of waiting manual dishes.

i step away for a bit to cool off, catch my breath, take something for the migraine that has been steadily building since ~11:30am (it is now almost 9pm) from having to deal with J1 and J2 all fucking day. i have been asked to help with trash as part of close. J2 has the gall to ask me “how much longer do you think you’ll be?” at a fucking guess i’m going to be a lot goddamn longer than i would be if you were actually HELPING ME, dickhead.

J2 ended up clocking out after the temps helped him with trash without putting a single manual dish away, leaving me with three full sinks and an overloaded counter. i didn’t get home until after midnight (partly because my ride was helping with after-dinner bar service) and i have to go back and do it all the fuck again at 11a again tomorrow.

i swear, if J2 gets fired and is never allowed to work in foodservice again after tonight’s bullshit, especially the state i found the deli slicer in, i’m converting back to christianity, because i’m taking it as proof that there is a merciful and loving god.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[slowee00]

• ——— SYSTEM X ARC 3

———————  • BY SLOWEE00/SLOoORE

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

#-𝟶𝟿• 𝚂𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚢 동정

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

❌ MASTERLIST + INFO + WARNINGS:

CHAPTER WARNGING(S): not proofread, Swearing, Angst, reader being lonely, longest chapter 10,000+ words, small suggestive scene.

<<<<<<Previous Chapter | Next Chapter>>>>>>>

It's been almost 2 weeks since you started to scrub offices for a living. You're up at least by 9 or 10am, ready to start work. Unfortunately, days don't pass fast as there are hardly task given to you in the morning. Most come after 3pm when you're mostly exhausted.

Marshmallow isn't in your care anymore, she's in Yunhos now. Seonghwa had ordered Mingi to take the dog as the building doesn't accept pets or animals. That's the information Karina given you a days after, and if you wanted to see her, you'll have to visit the therapy centre in the heart of the main building. 

Mr. Uder also known as Yunho, runs a therapy cycle. Since Seonghwa couldn't think of someone, Yunho took it upon himself to take Miss Marsh to the therapy cycle for emotional support. 

It was a great idea in your opinion. She's getting the attention and care she needs instead of being locked in your room all day. You'll have to visit.

Seonghwa would drop by every now n then to check on you, see if you're eating and getting exercise your body needs. He was able to get you a phone (no plan) and your inhaler. Your old phone was confiscated as it could've been easily tracked.

You walked around the building, picking up the last garbage bag, throwing it into your cart and replacing it a new one. The final beep on your table sent a wave of relief over your shoulders, shutting down the tablet. 

"Finally..." you whispered, stretching out your limps, rotating your upper body till you heard your hip crack with satisfaction. Mingi had left a couple minutes ago, disappearing once again. 

The male does this constantly. Appearing out of thin air. Most of the time he's quiet. Observing your every movement. At times, you even forget he's there. Only to be reminded by his sudden comments and commands. It could get annoying. Why couldn't they trust you wouldn't do anything? You ask yourself that repeatedly, only to answer it with the reason of their lives prize. They're assassins, agents, spys- what not. The Avengers are gone, who's gonna protect the world? 

You couldn't blame them for labeling you as an anomaly. 

Crossing over your arms above your head, stretching it out till it cracked. Your throat throb slightly, dry from the lack of hydration. 

"ahhHhhhh-" you yawned.

"-What are you doing?"

"OH-"

You jump immediately, your arms raised in fist, ready to punch whoever was behind you. But you were met to a soft looking male. Blonde, wore a large crewneck with complementary striped colours. Simple slippers, and black sweatpants with a small fanny pack. He didn't seem alarming, just weird. 

He smiled. His cheekbone becoming more visible. 

"Sorry did I scare you?"

"No, you didn't!" You said in sarcastic tone, rolling your eyes and ticking your tongue with an expensive attitude. 

"Almost slapped you..," you mumble under your breath. You look at him then looked down the hall both ways, seeing as to where and how the hell this guy even got behind you. There was a hall behind him, yes, but you emptied out every room already, leaving him with the entrance down the long hall. 

You stared at him. "Do you need something...?"

He's smiled remains. 

"No.. just um.." he was still smiling, almost a nervous smile. Licking his lip, tucking his hands in his pocket, looking down. 

"You wouldn't have a... key on you..?"

You immediately relaxed. 

"You lost your key didn't you..?"

His head shot up. 

"Not shocked?"

You shrugged. "A lucky guess."

"...So can you let-"

"Can I just take my trash out and I'll-" you cut yourself over, your thumb point in the other direction, but stopped and nodded. "Never mind, where do you want to go?"

"The dorms, if that's ok..?" 

"Oh of course.." out of everyone one here, this guy has been the nicest, weird, but the nicest. Nice people gonna be returned the favour right?

"Or you can take out that trash and then we can go, I've seen you a couple times in the dorms so I take it you're going back?" He questioned. 

Finally someone who gets it! You thought you found the one. Someone not weird (you think) someone who is talking like a human being! Not talking poems like Seonghwa, weird comments like Karina, threats(?) like Mingi, just a normal spoken person. 

"Oh can we? It's just it would be nice to not circle back-"

"I understand, let me go with you..." he stated, stepping forward and you nodded. You couldn't deny him. Company is nice but you wouldn't get too comfortable. You're in a high level secret government building. But you can't help but turn soft for finally finding a decent person. 

But something didn't really feel right...

"Yeosang by the way."

You were about to introduce yourself but stopped upon feeling something off about this whole encounter. You stopped, looking around then back to him. "Is this some test?"

He raised a brow. "Huh?"

"Is Mr. Park watching somehow. Testing me if I get too comfortable or something? I'm not getting it.."

"Seonghwa is not here. Nor is Mingi. Just me and you.."

Oh... you didn't really like that response, so you just looked at him, giving him a side eye. 

"Not convincing huh?" He asked. 

"Yup." Yeosang sighed, scratching his head in slight frustration. 

"Well what do I say to gain some trust..?"

You licked the inside of your cheek. "If you know Seong- Mr. Park, I take it you know who I am.. even so, in my situation, trust doesn't come easy.." you folded your arms. You weren't lying. Trust with something you dealt with your entire life. Even if they're housing you, you still have to be careful as to who you give it too.

"I know... listen, I'm not trying to be mean but.. I kinda just want to go to bed.." he responded in the nicest manner he could. He was handsome and his calm, collected expression, voice and face, for some reason, made him more attractive. Again... Unlike Mingi and Seonghwa. 

You clicked your tongue.  "You know what? me too.." already tired yourself, you rubbed your face in frustration, continuing to push your cart, taking Yeosang aback. 

"Wha... so that's it?"

"What's it?

"You gonna let me walk? In this building with no ID?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"For starters," you stopped, using your whole hand to point out things about him. "You're wearing slippers, sweatpants and a crewneck, I take it you are already set to go back to your room. Plus, I don't understand why someone would adventure into this building, not knowing what it is as I don't even see much of this 'secret organization' you guys call. I clean these offices every day! It just looks like a normal building. And as soon as I mentioned Mr. Park, you were quick to mention lieutenant Song as well, which lead me to believe that you've seen my report- do you want me to continue?" You asked, scratching your arm. 

Caught right handed, he licked his lips, bitting onto them. He leaned on one leg, letting both hand fall into his sweat pant's pockets.

"Yes."

"No," you disengage, to which he playfully smiled to. 

"Seonghwa was right, you are oddly entertaining..." you looked at him, arriving at garbage suit. You stopped just as your back hit the door. "He talks about me?"

"Yup.." 

You gulped. "In a good or bad way?" Yeosang noticed the way your voice lowered into a more quiet one. Soft, confused, and concerned. 

The corners of his lips lifted. "In a good way," Yeosang leaned against the wall. "...I think.." he teased. Your lips flinched before pressing them thin. 

You only nodded, pushing open the suit door, the horrible smell now hitting your nose, but after the first 3 days, you've gone nose blind to the terrible smell. 

"What? Trying to shoot your shot?" You heard him yell from the entrance. If he was Karina, you could've confessed that maybe- MAYBE, you found the smooth looking male attractive. But even to Karina you wouldn't say much about something you found personal.

"No just curious as to what he says, that's all.." you simply said, no stutter or missteps, straight and forward. Who wouldn't want to know what others say about you?

"Also! they call me King." 

"King?"

"I'm good at flying aircrafts, most of the time, I end up saving their asses in the nick of time.." he explains happily. You do recall that name being uttered somewhere... interesting. 

"Code name?"

"Exactly!"

After dropping off your cart, you both walked back, swiped your card to enter the dormitory, walking past the front desk and the closed market. You noticed the vending machine in the corner near the laundry room, 'coffeeeeee-' but also noticed how silent Yeosang became. He was always on small talk but now he was fidgeting with his the tip of his fingers. 

"Ah..!" That was when you turned around to face him. "You good?" You asked, realizing he stopped walking, standing a couple feet away. You catched a glance of his hand before he stuffed them back into his sweats pockets. Small cracks appeared on them, like bright lightning. They were orange-red, almost like they were on fire. 

Your chest tightened at that sudden memory flooding back into your mind. It was impossible, it couldn't be possible.

All the way here? In Korea?

"Your hands.." you started, point to them, forcing your body to face him. 

"They're fine," he quickly answered, but he couldn't hide them glowing through his pants. "Dude.." you took a step forward and he took a step back, taking his hands out, hugging them close to himself. "Shit, why now..?" He whispered. 

Looking him, you gently began to approach him, taking a different approach. 

His body felt like someone had set his hands on fire. The burning sensation almost leaving them numb. His skin felt like it was hardening, ready to crack at any moment like an active volcano. 

He could only pray that it wouldn't be as bad as last time. At least not in front of you.

"...Can I see them..?" 

You gestured your hand to him. He was almost shocked. Many people would run, call for help, but you asked to see them instead? He almost didn't want to, but then he realized in the report he had read a week ago. 

You were a Shield agent, then worked for the Avengers.

He's condition for definitely foreign. He and the others don't even know how this could happen. 

Sometimes it's pain, other times there's nothing but a tingling sensation. He doesn't know what it is, but now that he had someone who used to work in one of the most scandals in the world, you, maybe, could end this nightmare.

But he didn't want to do it, he could burn you like he did the others. But almost like a scared animal, coming from a torturing family, the male you were previously talking to- shakingly brought his hands to yours. You went to touch it, but he would pull away slightly to avoid touching you. The heat of his hands felt like a fireplace. It made you wonder how much pain he was in- if he was in any.

"It happens randomly, it burns, it's like a power draw back." He spoke gently. 

You saw this back in New York. Once only. Like the super soldier serum, this played a similar role. Granting the host abilities beyond their control. But that was years ago, you couldn't find that memory even if you tried.

"Hm... I've seen this before..." you whispered. His head shot up just as you began to tilt your head around to get a better veiw. 

You looked up to him, eyes boring into his. 

"Does it bother you?" 

He nodded slowly. 

"Do you feel like you're gonna explode?

"Yeah... sometimes.." he said. 

You looked at his hand intensely. 

"You want it gone...?" You asked him lowly to which he nodded. 

He raised his brows in curiosity. "Y-you can do that...?" He stuttered. The light in his finger tips slowly fading away. But before he could retreat, you grabbed his hand. To which he suddenly gripped your hand back. It was quick but you can feel him slowly burn your hand and squeezed it a bit too hard.

You flipped his hand around, his grip still around yours. "Um.. yeah..." you mumbled letting go of his hand. You couldn't help but hiss at him suddenly pulling away, pulling your skin slightly. Your arm suddenly twitched but you used your other hand to hold it in place. Still up, you quickly shoved them into your pocket. 

"I just need to confirm it before I could tell." You cleared your throat. Scratching your arm again, making the fabric dance along your skin. 

Yeosang notice this but his eyes began to slight blur. Recovering slightly, his legs barely holding him up as he doubled over, leaning in, his face close to yours; A little too close for comfort. 

Reacting quickly, you hooked your arms under his pits and held him up with as much strength you had.

"Shit.. just bring me to my room, I have to take my shot," he mumbled, the awkward stance was kinda funny. Two random strangers standing in the empty lobby of the dormitory entrance. One leaning against the other. If someone came in, they would've thought you were dragging a crazy drunker into the building. 

It almost felt like it. Yeosang was pretty heavy. So much so, you ended up (just barely) piggybacking him to his room. It was only 20 minutes later, even with the elevator, was when you reached his room. You got lost and he kept misleading you to it.

Unlocking his room, you immediately noticed your breath. A small cloud forming by your lips and nose. His room temperature was freezing. It shows he has to change even his environment to keep his condition at bay.

It was dark, the moon shinning your way through. You couldn't see his room but it was for sure ten times bigger- if not, a hundred times bigger than your room. They gave you an old storage closet, while they gave the boys luxurious apartments. Bummer. But then again, they are the ones who do the heavy lifting. You're just a custodian. And honestly, you were supposed to be sleeping in a bunk bed by the janitors lobby where they keep the extra space for emergencies. 

After saying your goodbyes - as in dropping him onto his bed and feeing; you heard him mumble a small 'thank you' your way before letting sleep take him over. 

You would've helped him change but you felt like that was already too much. And also, you felt like you were trespassing. And you're not on that level, you did just met the guy.

"You're very welcome," you whispered finding your way back to the door and closing it after exiting. "Oh!" You stopped, turned and bented down. Sliding your janitors keycard under his door so he doesn't need to search for you again. You have access to a new one in the janitor's lobby. 

Before heading back to your room, you returned back downstairs, turning to the vending machine you marked before Yeosang had his little attack, to come back and take a cold coffee for tomorrow.

After retrieving your drink you stared at the entrance of the dormitory, the main entrance leading- for a lot longer than usual, like you were in a trance. The pitch black night being nothing but suspicious. 

Now kinda thinking of it, you've never stepped foot out since you got here. The dormitory and the main building are connected by stairs and halls. There was a market and a bar under both buildings, so you never needed a reason to leave. 

But now, it couldn't hurt... right?

You stood there staring into nothing. You felt something - you take as water, hit the tip of your nose. Looking up, you noticed more began to fall. You would rush in immediately, avoiding the possibilities to get sick but you didn't. You just stood there, feeling and letting your clothes slowly soak in the incoming rain.

You've never felt so empty yet filled with so much thought. There was so much but at the same time, nothing. 

But the sudden rain wasn't sad, no, it was refreshing. A reminder of life outside your hectic one. It was dark but the distance street light lit up your vision. That didn't stop you doing a little twirl, spreading your arms out, letting the rain wash you, wash the stress and anxiety away. 

The stinging pain in your arm and hand was ignored on your walk back to your room, opening the door and slammed the door closed. You felt... heavy. It's been about 2-3 weeks since you got here were you really at your breaking point?

You raised your arm, looking at it with bore eyes. Since all of this started, you've been questioning yourself and your life choices. 

Was your hero life really for you? Maybe your hard training wasn't hard enough. You're still a soft bunny- as Karina said a couple days ago. Your heart is in the right place. Right heart, wrong life.

You never noticed, but when you stood in the rain for a solid 3 mins, the tall stoic male stood on his large balcony. Watching you twirl in the rain like a man on crack. 

Silence felled the space as he scoffed, his thick ring, scrapping against the rail of his balcony, retreating back into his warm suit. He did say he'll be watching you when you least expected it...

"You ok man?" Yunho asked, playing on his best friend's tv. His thumbs caressing to buttons on the controller. 

"Yup.." he thought of you. "Everything is fine."

The annoying eerie light burned brightly. Having it to be the only thing lighting up the unknown room. 

You could see faint stars in the small window across from you. 

How long has it been since you left earth? Since you were kidnapped by random aliens talking about magical stones.

.

.

You laid in the for what felt like hours. They came in every now and then to ask questions. Only, the same question. 

"Where is it?"

"I DONT KNOW!" You yelled. You tasted iron on your tongue as it began to pour from your chapped lips. Your head was spinning. 

The alien frowned. "Lord Thanos wouldn't like this..." it mumbled. Rubbing a hand over its face in frustration. 

Your body shook in pain and fear just as he turned around and flicked his wrist to the other creature in the room. 

"Do it again." 

"No- NO-"

The stoic alien aggression grabbed your arm slamming your upper body into the metal table. It held down your arm, its other hand holding an electric weapon. The top opening and admitting an electric shock between the three pointers. 

You stared at the deadly weapon and back between the creature. But before you could think, you felt the pressure of the weapon before the shock came. Ripping a blood curling scream from your throat....

The shock painted a purple-blood bruise up and down your arm. 

Bang. 

Bang. 

Bang. 

The constant banging ringed in your ear as they came in and out to ask the same question in till your body couldn't take anymore. Your mind could puzzle out why you were there in the first place. You passed out too quickly to tell.

BANG

You can hear them talk in their respective language on the other side of the door. 

BANG

"F/N!"

Jointing wake from your nightmare, you were faced with still being in to last night wear. The first thing you did was take a shower and did your personal hygiene. Noticing that you had fell asleep without washing up last night. You had breakfast and headed for walk. You thought it could clear your mind a bit after what had happened. 

"Where are you going?" You stopped in your tracks, turning to meet the owner of that deep stoic voice who happens to be- of course! Lieutenant Song. Standing or waiting right behind you with one hand on his hip and of course, his baton, talkie, and gun hung on his belt.

"I thought maybe... I can go for a walk?" You asked politely, tucking your hand into your pocket awkwardly. The other one hanging on your side as the accident with Yeosang from yesterday slowly begun to make you question your decision/action when grabbing his hand.

He didn't answered, only lifting a brow, still staring at you as if he was waiting for an answer back. He knows how observing you are, how you can read people, and so you read him, his expression. Him waiting for you to answer or for a further explain. 

Only there wasn't. You simply couldn't answer, not even a groan of annoyance or anger. Not giving him time to process before you headed back towards the elevators. 

What. 

The. 

Fuc-

"You're not even gonna contravene?" That reply made you stop, again. Turning to face his back. You sighed, "What? you want me to argue back?"

"Yes.. I expect you too." He turned his whole body to you and crossed his muscly arms. 

You tucked your head back in shock.

"Ok," you patted out your clothing, dusting them to be more presentable. 

"Can I go for a walk."

"No."

"Goodbye sir.." you didn't give him a second glance. 

He's always on you. You thought he was going to monitor you during your work hours, but it looks like he's monitoring you 25/8. No rest, like the terminator except no execution, just constant observation. 

The day was boring and before you knew it, It was already 5pm, after making dinner, Jongho notified you to the nursing wing for a final check up. The general ordered him to do check ups on your health as your past medical conditions kinda left her concerned. Or at least that's what he said...

"All done!" He said, removing the blood pressure machine from your arm. "You're 100%," he claimed with a small smile. Almost happy this was coming to a closing. You? Now so much. You hate to admit it, but you actually liked the check ups, the constant pressure, and knowing you had to be somewhere at a particular time. 

"T-that's it? I don't need to come back?" You asked, looking up to him with eyes full of curiosity, your voice deep and small. He looked at you for a little longer than he wanted to. You watched his small smile return. 

"Are you upset? You know-"

"No- I.. actually liked it..." You confessed out loud. He immediately dropped his smile and pressed his lips together.  "Sorry I didn't mean it like that... it just..."  "I get it... you miss having to go somewhere," he answered for you. 

"And having someone... there... expecting me.." 

Oh, now he gets it...

"You want attention?" He question caught you off guard, looking up at him immediately. You caught a glimpse of his naked tail waving as the corners of his mouth curled upwards. 

"N-no maybe someone- no!" 

"It's ok F/n, many people feel this way in many occasions, yours is more understandable," he raised a brow after his eyes landed on what rested on your lap. You watch his soft plump cheeks fall a bit, his eyes fully fixated.

"Woah.. your hand..." he dragged his attention on the large bruise on your hand, red and pulsing. You tried to cover it with your sleeve but Jongho immediately stopped you. Gently taking your hand into his and pulled back your sleeve just enough to see your hand. His warm touch was almost welcoming, you- for some reason- wanted to continue to hold it. Squeeze it, but your injury swelled up too much for you to do that.

"F/n, you never told me about this.." he whispered, gently turning your hand to view different angles of it. 

"It's nothing.. ow..!" You jumped as Jongho pressed into the palm of your hand. Closing your hand as best as you can but the pain was too unbearable and you grabbed Jongho's hand that was around your wrist. 

"That's a lot of scratches... and your hand..." he claimed releasing you, walking over to his cabinet. He took a bottle of a substance and bandages and walked back to you, raising his hand to you. 

You didn't pay mind to it, the pain was there but you figured you might've pulled something. 

Then it hit you.

Yeosang must've squeezed your hand so hard, that he not only burnt it, but broke it. Was your body in shock or something? You remember breaking bones in the past being horrible, but this time, the pain wasn't bad, if not, not there at all.

"May I?" Jongho ending up taking an xray for your hand, checking if you needed surgery. Thankfully you didn't. So the mutant just wrapped your hand in a thick cast, cover it in a baby blue bandage.

"I'll report to Kim and Seonghwa about your injury."

"Can I-"

"You can't work."

"I can, I can still-"

He looked at you, leaning in close, but not too close. Just to make himself clear, face to face.  "No, doing that will only make it worse..."

Your lip twitched and his tilted his head. Tail flicking behind him, his eyes dared you to oblige against his advice. You both stared into each eyes, watching his pupils constrict for a second before they dilated.

"And you might lose it, understand?"

"Yes.. sir... Doc.. Jongho...?"

His smiles returned. Slitting the conversation in half and pulling back.

"Have you been eating?" 

"Yeah..." he flashed you a side eye. 

"And where exactly do you get your groceries? As far as I know, you never left this building since you got here.."

You got your food and snacks from the indoor market downstairs in the dormitory. After today you confirmed your thoughts. Mingi said otherwise... 

Speaking of the devil...

Your response was cut off by Mingi knocking on the open door, grabbing you and Jongho's attention. "Done?" He asked. It was to no one particular, maybe both of you. You stayed quiet though. "She's done!" Jongho said, getting up from his chair. He walked to the medicine cabinet pulled out a small bottle of pills - Acetaminophen. 

"It's just medication to help with your pain," he handed you the bottle. "What if I run out? do I come back here?" You started to rise from the bed you were previously sat on. He walked around you, cleaning, and smoothing out the bed sheets. 

"Only if you want to come back.." he said, flashing you a quick smile before walking to the exit. His tail waving as he stop by Mingi. Mingi's face was unreadable as he only fixed his eyes onto Jongho just ask the shorter male whispered something. 

Confusion arise into you, but you didn't question and only watched Jongho leave the nursing wing. Silence struck and Mingi only roll his tongue on the inside of his cheek before sighing. 

"You know, I'm off... today." Your voice finding itself in the empty hall. You played with the cap of the pill bottle using the tip of your thumb. You still stood in the same place almost as if you were scared of him. 

"Off or not, I still have to watch you," all you did was press your lips together and deliver him a small nod. As days past, you slowly learned to accept this hell of a life. But there's something at the back of your mind hoping this is all just a sweet nightmare and that one day, you'll wake up in your apartment. But when days past, you almost feel like burning down your room in full stress and overwhelming thoughts. 

"Tell me, what are you gonna do today?"

"Since I realize I have outdoor privileges, I can finally take Marshmallow out for a good walk.." you explained walking over to the taller male. "With the acceptance of Yunho of course... you're welcome to join me unless you want to go drown yourself in your most expensive booze?" You tried to joke but he only replied back with a head shake.

"Ok..ay.."

You didn't miss his eyes travelling down your upper body stopping on the large cast in your wrist.  You didn't give him time to question and walked past him and down the hall, retreating back to the dormitory building. You walked in an appropriate pace. As he always does, the much taller male lagged a couple feet behind. You honestly think he's there for intimidation. Setting you straight, making sure you're working, and to be honest, it works. 

"You can... walk beside me you know..?" You tried to remain friendly. 

"I'll stay here..." he answered plainly. You're trying, you're really are. Clearly some people just don't want to get to know each other. Mingi is one of those people. 

You stopped walking, arriving at the stairwell connecting to the dormitory. You felt like a fish in a hook. You just about had enough of this guy. There were buckets of you and your prey was him, constantly thrown in the ocean only to be eaten by the larger animal. 

"Listen-"

"What?" He catches up, stopping right beside you. He didn't give you a glance, looking straight on. "You have 15 seconds,"

You sighed behind speaking up.  "Do you like... ever, you know,.. smile? or are you just always stones and bricks?- I feel like you can't go a long way, now that I'm thinking about it, I don't think I've ever seen you eat, sleep, or drink anything.. I mean you're not here all of the time, sometimes you leave and never come back till 700 hours later...I mean- I didn't even know if you live in the dorms- do you know Yeosang? Is Yeosang ok?" you took another breath. 

"5 seconds." You stopped walking, coming to a holt. You tried to control your breathing but you started to be somewhat annoyed. It felt like talking to him was like talking to a brick wall. At first you wanted to just talk, see where that would take this, but something tells you that ain't happening.

Is it you? it has to be you! do you have something in the middle of your teeth when you failed to take it out after lunch? is your odor annoying? is your voice too annoying? or maybe it's him not you? SHI-

"Can I just be... unattended? enjoy my day off?" 

He turned to you, fully facing you. His bore eyes looking into yours. His face almost never speaks, but he's eyes surely do... 

"Give me a reason."

"Since I've gotten here, it's constant supervision from you." You took a breath. A long breath. "I've haven't been myself lately and I hate it, I'm not injured nor am I dangerous. When I worked for shield, I never learn how to shoot a gun, I shot Arrows, a bow. I don't have a bow anymore! I don't have anything to hurt anyone, you guys gave me a small place to stay, is protecting from what? I don't even know what! Gave me a job, then have the audacity to send someone to look after me, You're.." you paused and took a breath, using your hands for more motion and expression. 

"So cold, the block of ice is so thick, you can't even see that I'm trying to make myself and you comfortable! So why are you so.." you couldn't find the words and your mind went blank. 

"..so..-" Your chest tighten just as you unable to blur out the last words. Your breathing wasn't too heavy and you didn't want to show that to him. You're not about to ramble then have an asthma attack right after. No. You immediately started to search for your new inhaler Seonghwa gave you. 

You don't normally or often use your inhaler, it was just this situation caused so much stress to build, and for some reason, fear. 

You placed your lips around the life saving object, turned around and took a puff. Mingi could see your back muscles flex, they became stiff but soon relaxed after. 

You coughed a bit, turning back but he was closer this time. So you took a step back, but soon back fired as your back hit the cold stoned wall of the empty stairwell. He stalked in silence, stopping only when his large boots stopped in front of yours.

"Mrs. L/n, you were an agent before, so you should undoubtedly- understand. I have my orders and you have yours,"

You stepped forward, making sure your chest was close to his. You weren't gonna let this guy bully you because of some 'orders'. "For some reason I feel you're getting a kick from this, what? No missions? So you got no one the drag around..? "

"Watch the way you talk to me." He argued back. With one single push with his hand, your body was completely against the wall, his body nearly pressed into yours, now towering over you. 

You felt his intimidating presence behind you as you worked, but now you never realized the size difference between you too. You weren't too short, but he was still taller than you. His deep voice, and bulk body almost made you want to shrink into an aunt to run.

Your air way began to tighten again, breathing out your nose instead of your mouth, trying to mask your breathing over his cold glare. 

But the wall of confidence soon fell, unable to keep it up, you pushed past him, coughing immediately and took a puff. Your asthma was never this bad, something happened, something made it worse. A puff a couple times a month and that's it, but now you need to refill it every now n then. 

"Leave me alone.." Your soft deep voice echoing through the stairwell. You hunching over, hand over your chest. 

"I just... please, leave me... alone." 

You didn't want be alone... you wanted something, can you couldn't state it. it was right at the tip but you missed it every time. You wanted... comfort. A distraction. But Mingi wasn't helping with that at all. It was the complete opposite.

Turning around after hearing only silence after a while, you were only met with nothing, he was gone. He didn't say anything else, just disappeared. 

You stood there confused. He gave in so easily, no wise words or a fight. Guess both of you guys needed to be alone. You could walk away, go on your day like it was nothing, but you wouldn't be able to shake it off. 

Did you hit a nerve? Half of you hopped you did and the other kinda just wants to apologize in a sense. 

He tracks you like you have an ankle brace. Or so, he was the tracker. Since they couldn't provide one, they gave you Mr. Song. Was it harsh? The words? Behind closed doors, your doors, he could be decent guy, smiles a lot more than he is around you, like you suck the joy out of him. That stings and you transferred that emotion into anger, thrashing out on him without much thought. Or was your heart too soft for the man?

You were walking for so long, you didn't even know where you were going. Just walking. The buildup stress from the time you've been here is started to seep out. You hated showing these emotions to someone- anyone. 

You put you head against the wall, in the corner, closing your eyes. Some people walking by with slight interest. "Is she ok?" "Don't know, come on, we have training.." two girls spoke an amongst themselves. Walking by without much question. 

You sighed against the wall, taking a deep breath, you covered your ears. You wish you could mute the world for a couple seconds. Where people could mind their own business. You wish you could scream in a field and let it all out. It almost made you mad. But you were too tired to fight or argue.

.

You're tired, oh so tired. 

.

.

"F/n...?" You heard someone chant your name softly but you didn't move, remaining in the same position. You looked like you were on time out from a far perspective. 

Till the same person touch your arm, making you turn to them immediately. "Huh..?" Mr. Uber. Yunho. 

"You ok?" Standing beside him was Yeosang surprisingly, looking better than last night. Your arm still in Yunho's grip, landing your attention on Yeosang instead. He looked at your face with slight concern but dropped as soon as you gave him the same expression. 

"Are you ok? You gave me a scare last night..."

He nodded, his cheekbones appearing once again. 

"Are you sure? Yes? Have you slept? It looked painful..."

"F/n I'm fine, see?" He lifted his arm, doing a goofy twirl to show you. You let a noise out. Yeosang smiled but stopped upon scanning your face. It was near 7pm, but why does it look like you skipped 3 days of sleep?

"Are you...okay?"

You ran your palm down your cheek, "Y-yeah I'm ok..?" It sounded like a question. "I think.. just not getting enough sleep.. I guess," Yunho and Yeosang exchanged looks for a brief second. Yunho bit into his lip, his large hand gently gripping the dog. You glanced between the two, not even noticing the dog, only after the third glance was when you noticed the animal. 

"Oh... Marshmallow.." Yunho immediately brightened up. Handing the dog who was way too excited to get into your arms, even started to cry, her whimpers becoming louder. 

"Shhh... I got you.." you whispered gently taking the small dog into your arms. Like a baby you were more than happy to see the dog the System accidentally kidnapped.

"What's the reason you brought her to me..?"

Yunho shrugged, "no reason.." he paused. "Actually-"

"She's not invited."

You were so focused on Yeosang wellbeing, you didn't even noticed what the two males were wearing. They wore fancy yet casual clothes. In full black. Yeosang wore a black denim coat, with a fishnet-like fabric, solid but somewhat see through seeing small flashes of his abs with leather flair pants. Yunho wore a simple black dress shirt with dress pants similar to it. 

"Oh.." 

Wooyoung stalked by saying those words, giving no thought about you. Yeosang gave him a small look, shifting his attention on the sudden presence of another female. 

"You are not the host of this party, she can go if she wants.." Karina spoke up, standing beside Yunho. She wore thigh-high leather heels, her makeup done, tight black dress with cropped dress coat. 

They all wore black.

"You should come, lay off a little," San and Hongjoong were the last one to approach. Coat open, nothing under, his toned abs exposed. Hongjoong for a cowboy coat, with a low cut black blouse, one too many necklaces and chains around his neck, dark velvet wide pants and short heels. 

How are these people dressing better than an average person? Oh Right... money..

"The drinks will be on you though.." Hongjoong joined, raising a brow. 

Karina smiled, gently slapping your arm. "You should!"

You looked at every single one, looking at their heavy jewelry and expensive looking clothes. 

"I take it this 'party' is a club..?" You questioned, rubbing your thumb into Marshmallows fur/skin, the animal slowly falling asleep in your arms. 

"You don't like clubs?" Yunho asked. Tilting his head with the question, making one of his long earrings hang from his ear. 

"Never been to one.. are they like... the clubs in the movies?" You talked in your deep tired voice. Your eyes out of focus.

They all exchanged looks before slightly laughing. "I guess they are, Ms. L/n." Hongjoong said a smile forming on his pink lips. 

"The drinks!" You heard Wooyoung yell.

"Wait!" San replied. Turning back to you again. "So?" He questioned. 

You shook your head.

"No, I'm tired.."

"You're lost, lets go," Hongjoong dragged San, whose face voiced concern before giving you sympathetic look as he got dragged. 

"See you later, precious," Karina teased, hooking her arm around Yunho's, walking the same direction. You watched them happily leaving in the hall. Despite having to go on a hiatus, they found something to detract themselves for passing time.

You don't know the number of people who are in Seonghwa's squad, you definitely don't see your doctor Jongho, Mr. Park or Lieutenant Song with them. Higher the position equals more work and less free time...

"Your hand..." 

Yeosang cut the silence. You snapped your head back to him, actually forgetting him, thinking he walked away already.

"It's nothing.." you replied quickly, looking down to your wrist, fidgeting with the loose end of the blue bandage. 

"Did I do that?" He asked, starring intensely at your injury he clearly doesn't have memory doing.

You silenced yourself, it was more of him questioning himself. He stepped forward, taking your wrist gently, your other arm holding the now yawning Marshmallow. 

You watch him gently push up your sleeve, his veiny hand held yours, his thumb softly rubbing the material. He looked at your injury, watching his brow furrow slightly. 

"It's not your fault.. Yeo-sang.." you slowed his name, like you were attempting to properly pronounce his name. To which he looked up to you with a smile. 

"You remembered?"

"Of course, how could I not?"

"Yeosang!" Someone yelled from down the hall. You both looked quickly, seeing the group by the exit. 

"What do you think they're talking about?" San started. Leaning close to Hongjoong, arm still around his shoulder.

"Whatever it is, it's none of our business." Hongjoong answered. Everyone turned their heads to him. 

"Really, you don't want to know?" Karina asked, taken a back as the older male always ask and shuffles his nose into other people's business. 

"No." Hongjoong shook his head.

Yunho raised his brows, Karina licked her lips, San cleared his throat, and Wooyoung groaned under his breath. 

The group watched the two figures down the hall exchange a few last words before Yeosang retreated back to the group. 

As Yeosang stalked closer, Hongjoong crossed his arms, stepping forward. His earring swinging with attitude. 

"The hell was that about?"

It was about 8pm and you finished your shower, ate and now getting ready for bed, maybe watch a couple videos of your favourite YouTubers on your new phone. 

Dimming your lights, you cover Marshmallow's food bow and walked to your bed, throwing off the covers easily and slipped in. You held the blanket up, the small chihuahua climbing in. She actually smelt quite well, showing that Yunho or whoever was really taking care of her. 

"Tired? Yeah.. me too..." You mumbled, cuddling the animal closer. She let out some comfort noises before her large eyes began to fall. You weren't too far, your body falling first, your eyes, then-

Your door faced a loud bang coming from the other side. Waking you and your buddy up immediately. Marshmallow yawned and you shot up on your elbow. 

"Who's there..!?" You yelled in a tired tone, surprised at the range of your tired voice. 

"Me!" 

"Who's me..!?" 

"You are..!"

Groaning, you got up, walking to the door and swinging it open. 

The black hair male smiled, he was also in his pyjamas too. You were surprised he didn't go to the party/club with the others. You took it that he was that kind of man. 

"Mr. Park, it's 9.." you wiped your eyes. 

"Actually.." he pulled back his sleeve, raising it to his eye level. "It's 8:34pm," he checked his watch then flashed it to you. 

"Come on, I want to show you something.." he exclaimed. But you shock your head. Turning around, crawled back into bed, not even having energy to cover yourself. 

"Come on f/n..." 

You groaned again, holding the sheets tighter. Till you felt your body drag right off your bed, your sheets now on the ground. 

"Seonghwaaa!!" You called his first name accidentally. 

"F/nnnnn!!" He mocked. 

It's took some effort but the taller male was able to remove you from your room. Leaving marshmallow whose was sleeping too well to be disturbed. 

Arriving to the anonymous destination, it took you a couple seconds to realize you both stood in a bar-like kitchen. The cooking side in the back with a bar table in front. 

"This is my cooking room," Seonghwa said, turning on the lights. The bright shining light nearly blinded you, almost like the sun woke up early, you shielded your eyes almost instantly. 

"Sorry.." he apologized after hearing you groan, dimming the lights lower. 

You sighed, tired, "Mr. Park, why are we here? I'm tired and I have work tomorrow," but the male completely disregard your message. Turning and walked to the oven, he switched it on.

"..Mr. Park..." you called again, scratching the back of your head, eyes still closed. You could heard him shift around the kitchen, grabbing and putting away tools he previously used.

If there's one thing you noticed was the smell. The small was sweet and lively. If your lungs didn't have limits, you would only want to inhale it till they popped. You could almost taste it. 

But it wasn't just food, it was an odor, his oder. You never noticed how he smelled. It smelt luxurious and expensive. 

It reminded you where you stood. He was on level 500 and you're still on 50- if not, you may not even have a level. He bakes, cooks, he's tall, has a pretty face, smooth talker, fights, rich- what else? You? You couldn't even think of anything as of now. You just needed to sleep.

"Aghhh!" You yawned, stretching your arms up, standing on your toes.

"Look, I have work tomorrow, it was nice walk and talk," you turned, stumbling a bit. Brotherly setting your foot near the exit before it slammed shut, a heavy wind nearly knocking you off your feet. 

No words were spoken, just a faint hum coming from the handsome male. At this point, the loud slam had woken you up completely. Your body flinched abit, thanking god that your fingers weren't between the door and the frame. 

The sound made your ears itch.  You tried the door. It was locked. No- it wasn't, but there was something forcing it shut.

"Mr-" 

"Sit down," it wasn't cold, it was more of a soft command. His humming came to a stop, now grabbing a plate, he turned around to face you. 

"Unless you want me to help you with that?"

You slowly shook your head, taking slow steps towards the counter and took a sat in front of him. 

He soft smile came back, going back to what he was doing, the sound of the plate making contact with the marble countertop. 

You just sat there, rubbing your eyes in slight exhaustion. 

"Your hand," he started, spreading, what looked like icing on top of his homemade dessert. You blinked at his words, looking as your hand and back to him. "From Jongho's report, it sounded fucked up.."

Woah...

He swore...

"Um.. yeah- I mean it wasn't that bad.." you stumbled to find the right words. His tone didn't seem too welcoming, to you it was fine, but to others, it definitely wasn't. His voice went deep as if the words in his mind transformed to emotions. A angry one at most.

"Does it hurt...?" He asked, adding the last thing on his desserts. 

"Well-" his stabbed the sweet with a fork, driving the stainless steel straight through the hot dough. 

"Well... it... I never noticed the pain till Jongho touched it, really..." you mumbled, caressing the blue bandage. 

The black hair male walked around the table holding two plates of what you finally see are glazed buns. He placed one in front of you then sat beside you. 

"Oh... I already brushed my teeth.."

"Brush em' again..." he answered, taking a bite of his bun. 

You chewed on your cheek, looking down at the food. The glazed bun, smelt of honey and a touch of cinnamon. The dough was hot, soft, and a right amount of chewy. So why weren't you in the mood to eat this delicious sweet?

"Not eating?" He spoke in English. Swallowing his second bite. 

"I just don't have the appetite to eat."

"For this or to eat in general..?" You turned your head to him. He smiled slightly before taking another bite of his bun. Your eyes ran between the two plates and that was when you realized he had given you the bigger bun.

"Jongho said you haven't been eating.."

"Huh!? I eat, he might've got it wrong.."

Seonghwa shook his head. "You losing appetite confirm your diet," his pointed his fork to you. "You're also losing weight.." 

"What..?" You looked down then touch your face immediately after his comment. "I'm not losing weight.."

"Your asthma has worsened.." he added.

"How do you...?"

"Mingi."

"I'm just not in the mood to eat, that's all."

He stopped chewing, his tongue making a large bulge rising on the side of his cheek before nodding. You heard him exhale from his nose. Putting his fork down, he got up from his chair and walked around back to the kitchen. 

You watched him open a cabinet, taking out a clear glass container. "You'll be taking it back with you then..." he said, his back still facing you. 

"Can I?"

Walking towards you, setting the container in front of him and set his hands on the counter separating you two. Tilting his head a small smile formed on his lips. His long hair falling on the side of his face.

"Well I'm not taking it back, I'm I?" He slid it towards you. 

"Take it to go."

"Listen-" you started.

"You're not hungry?"

"It not that..."

He slid it further towards you. 

"Take it."

Pressing your lips together you gently grabbed the fork but failed as your dominant still resigned in the thick blue cast. The metal fork fell back onto the plate, creating the loud eerie sound that made your teeth hurt. 

You tried again. 

Failed. 

Again. 

Failed. 

At this point you can feel heat rising in you, your ears running hot, your neck forming small beads of sweat. You never felt so... embarrassed and nervous? Your broken hand restricted you the mobility to pick anything up. 

You didn't need to look up to see Seonghwa smug growing wider and wider. 

"Need help?"

"No, I... I got it," you failed again, the fork now falling off the plate. You sighed heavily, using your other hand instead. But of course, since it wasn't your dominant hand, all you did and could do was stab the bun right in the middle.

"Ah-ha.." 

You heard Seonghwa's chuckle and lower his head, hiding his face. 

"F/n, do you need help?"

"No, I got this.."

You successfully put your homemade bun in its container, the only problem was... getting the fork out. 

"Yes... sorry what were you saying..?" You asked leaving the fork perfectly sticking out of the hot dessert. Seonghwa's shook his head.

"Nothing..." he answered, the smile on his face slowly fading. The male licked his teeth, tasting the trapped cinnamon in his teeth.

"I actually brought you here to talk.." his statement made his words sound almost shaky, and sort of filled with uncertainty. 

"Sure... anything wrong?" Your words coming out as a whisper.

He shook his head no. 

"It not really about you in general, it's about what you want to know..." he said. 

You blinked.

Seonghwa thought if he's on hiatus, he mightiest well get to know you. You haven't talked to much people in the building. From Mingi's report, you never talk to him in a way to know him, or he never tries to engage in having a conversation with you. As far as he knows, only him, Mingi and Jongho talked to you. 

He couldn't help but feel kinda bad at your sudden loneliness. He does see your body became smaller. He began to question whether you obtain skills to be able to feed yourself or making enough to buy yourself food. He did remove the dog from your care. So why do you look so... tired?

"Only three questions, go." He commanded, looking straight on. 

"Umm.."

"Quick!"

You stumbled on your words for a bit but soon found a quick question. 

"...Do all of you guys have abilities?" The question has been nagging you for a while. Yeosang, Seonghwa, Jongho, and Wooyoung are the only people you've seen with your own eyes. If you're gonna live here, it nice to know who you're living with.

Seonghwa bit his lip, looking down and yet another smile appeared. 

"Not all of us..."

"Well what are they?" His brows rises. 

"You told me you'll answer them.." you remarked and he sighed, putting his hand together and rested on his elbows.  "Well... I have the ability to levitate things... telekinesis is the scientific name... " he said, breaking eye contact with you, his eyes landing on the fork in your now cold dessert. You tracked his eyes, finding the fork now levitating and spinning clockwise in a fast pace. 

"Wooyoung as you know, is a super soldier... and so am I," you pressed your lips together, looking back to him with questioning eyes. 

"I thought they go rid of that serum..? It's illegal..." Seonghwa's shrugs. 

You bit your lip, furrowing your brows, thinking hard. 

There was a lot of scandals around the super soldier serum. You know Bucky and Sam ran into some individuals who carried it but after that, you never thought the serum would stretch far, let alone Korea. 

"Don't think too much about it... he wouldn't give you much thought, it's only fair..." 

You nodded but still carried it in the back of your mind. The male does have something out for you. You don't know what.. but that's not your current mission, it would probably never be. You don't feel responsible for his anger. 

"Jongho is a mutant... you know, the tail... he can phase through things and teleport," you nodded, impressed.

"What do you think of him?" Seonghwa's asked, cycling around and sitting back beside you.

"Well he's nice, and resourceful..." he raised a brow.

"You were never scared? You know his tail, sometimes glowing eyes..?"

You shook your head, knowing how people treat his kind; mutants that is. "I think it's pretty cool..."

You paused. "You think he'll get mad if I tried to touch it?"

"Then you wouldn't need a pen to sign your death sentence..." Seonghwa joked, to which you chuckled a bit. "Noted."

The conversation went on, Seonghwa continuously talking about his team's abilities. Finding San didn't have any including Jiwoo. 

Hongjoong can read people thoughts, and view their memories if he can touches them. As of now, he leaning to control the consciousness of people minds and maybe get into it. To which you found cool yet scary at the same time. Mind control is something that's wasn't new to you. You've been mind controlled before, it wasn't pretty. You ended up hurting a lot of people... including some you love. One way to describe it is: a horrible hangover.

Yunho has ferrokinesis, the ability to manipulate iron and many metals. You found it odd, he never used it. But you're willing to see it in person. 

"...Yeosang?" 

This time he shook his head. "We don't know what is... but it's not power, it's curse..." he spoke the last words with a bite. Seeing his teammates so vulnerable. Cry in pain, having to change his environment just to keep it at ease. Ever since that American mission, Yeosang 'powers' developed. He has no family history of it, meaning something must've happened in the west. Yeosang has no memory or getting, let alone going on the mission. 

Whoever put their hands on his teammate is still out there, somewhere. That's why Yeosang doesn't do overseas missions anymore.

Mingi- to which you found surprising, can heal. 

"What? Heal?" You question, completely shocked. Seonghwa's laughed, his deep voice softened, "why are you shocked?"

Your lips twitched, "well... he's so... hard and stoic."

If Yunho was here, he would've made a dirty joke about his best friend. But that didn't stop Seonghwa from chuckling a bit. 

"Wha..?" You asked softly.

"Nothing..." he smiled, running his tongue over his front teeth. "You called him hard..."

"He is!- he's so hard, I genuinely don't think he can't get soft... is he soft? like with you guys? I'm sure of it, he doesn't like me I can tell." you almost made Seonghwa choke on his spit. You watch him turn his spinning chair away from you. 

"The ice could be melting- no the metal could be melting and he refuses to see! I thought Karina was odd, but him, he kicks the bucket..." you turned to him, "What?... what's wrong? Was it something I said?" You asked, completely lost. 

Now you had the pretty male cackling, his back facing you. His laugh made your heart skip a beat for a second, you haven't made someone laugh that hard in a while. It made you feel fuzzy. Your stomach flipped and butterflies began to fly. A friend. A real friend. With those dynamic you've see on instagram; those 'you and me' or 'me and my bestie' photos. You hope maybe you could be one of them someday. Your imagination for a 'normal life' is totally different. Versus how you ended up here.

Seonghwa recovered. You grabbed him a tissue for his watery eyes to which he thanked you for. The conversation soon continued after that. The chat leading to Karina. 

He liked his lips, eyes focused on nothing but spaced out a bit, "she's a witch."

"How so..?" You asked, placing a cap over your bun.

"I mean she can do almost everything... it's not full confirmed but... I think she's a blood witch... I worry it might rip her apart..." he spoke in a low tone, worrying about his teams. You found it, somehow- even more attractive, the fact that he cares so much about his team. He did end up making all those buns for a reason. He knows after that party, they're gonna need something sweet after all of that alcohol. 

More of a reason to talk to you. He could be sleeping but chose to talk to you instead to pass time till they come back.

A mom and dad right there. Looking back to your container, your perfectly glazed bun. You only thought of how he wouldn't have never gave you one if he wasn't interested. Being friends that is... he certainly not looking for someone.... You mean, someone like him definitely gonna be taken... right? Your thoughts soon fell on Karina words the other day. 

"I think you should ask him out..." Karina said, lying on your bedroom's floor. It was about 10pm on a Thursday night. Karina swing by to say hi just as you were about to doze off. 

"Who?"

Turning around and onto her elbows. "Seonghwa's duh.."

You shook your head. "Nope, not happening."

Karina pouted. "Or just hook up with him?"

Lying on your bed, you turned your head, looking down to her. Slowly shaking your head in disapproval and disappointment. 

"No?"

"No. 

"Oh come on now!"

Karina sat up, scooting towards you. 

"I heard he uses his power to-" quickly covering your ears with your pillow under your head, you shut your eyes tight and screamed. She continued to talk despite your loud voice. You didn't want his image ruined. 

"KARINA!!"

"A blood witch?" you looked tensely into his eyes. "Like Wanda?"

He shrugged. "Karina can be dangerous, just be careful ok?" He turned to you, looking into your eyes. Looking for something, for you to confirm your safety. 

You were taken back a bit. She's been nothing but sweet to you. She always offering to hang out (as in going out) but you would shut them down. Why? You're too nervous. It's been a while since you had someone that close. Close enough to make friends or to have a girls talk, which is something you craved for- for years. The closest you've been with her was arm. 

"Next question." He stated. 

Another question that has been bothering you was the organization after you, Nuclear. It been mention a couple of times, on and off but since you have a chance to learn some more, why not do so?

"...Who's and what's Nuclear?"

You felt the room drop and Seonghwa's chest slightly tightened at the sudden mention of the name. 

"Nuclear..." he repeated, as if he was testing how the name would roll off his tongue. 

"They're an organized crime group, formed from Russia, they traffic girls, and turn them into widows," he said, not staring at you, looking straight ahead and keeping a serious tone in his voice. 

You blinked, slowly beginning to connect the dots. "Like Black Widow and her childhood enemy?"

"Yup." He corrected. 

You looked back forward, trying to process the information. Trying to tie the dots together. 

"I thought he had died..."

"Oh his is, but he had successors, to which are still looking for you..."

You looked over you to him again, scratching the bowls glass sides. Your thumb nail slipping only to repeat the action. 

You both sat in a comfortable silence, swinging your legs from the high chair. 

"Mr. Park." You called gently.

"Hm?" He hummed using his powers to open a cabinet and made two glasses fly out of it. You watched them land gently on to the marble counter just as another cabinet from beneath it opened. A clear golden liquid danced in the glass bottle as the cap popped off before it tilted itself  to pour the- what you assume is alcohol- into the two glasses. 

After watching it, you turned to see him focusing on pouring you two a shot. His eyes were tensed, but his body was calm and relaxed. 

You couldn't help but trigger something that made him suddenly pull the alcohol. 

"Sorry." 

"Huh?" He asked. The shot now sitting in front of you. 

"That question must've touched something it shouldn't have..." you apologized. 

He shook his head. Resting on his hand, head facing you with a smile on his face. 

"I like you F/n," he stated which made your brain go blink. This guy seriously doesn't think before speaking..!

"Oh- Oh... thanks." You answered, putting both hands around the small glass. Shaking the glass gently, you were hesitate to take that shot. You never drunk. You're scared of the bitter taste, not wanting that to be the last thing on your tongue before sleeping.

"I like you too- I mean you're fine- like you're nice, at least to me... I mean you can still kill me... but I don't think you'll will..." you rambled, now grabbing the fork from your bowl and began to play with the handle. You would rambled, going on without much thought of what was coming out of your mouth, all while he teasingly smiled and nodded at every odd word coming from your mouth.

"...You won't right?" You whispered, giving his a quick glance, eyes falling back to your drink as you noticed him looking at you. 

The corners of his lips twitched. He noticed this- He noticed this for a while. It's something his gonna get out of you, one way or another. So he thought of something...

He nudged your elbow with his. Turning back to him, you noticed his mouth open, as if he was trying to find words. 

"Jagiya, how about this: If you can hold eye contact with me, I'll... do whatever you want..." his challenged, looking straight into your eyes, the corner of his plump lips lifting. 

"...How long..?" You asked, rolling your hand on each side of your shot glass. You didn't face him when you asked, only giving him more of a reason to believe you won't last two seconds. 

"40 seconds." He answered quick and easy. Turning his body to you, his caressed his thighs, his thick ring nearly getting caught on his pants. You watched his fingers squeeze them; probably for stress and tension relief. 

But you couldn't help but fire them a quick peek. 

"For-ty-sec-onds." He taunted, leaning in closer. 

"And I'll do anything for you, F/n..." his whispered. The fork suddenly flying straight out of your hand, shooting straight forward, impaling the kitchen wall.

Oh...ok...

"Okayy... I'll do it, just hold on..." you replied quickly as his bubble came closer to yours. 

Turning to him, your knees touching his, your eyes shifting between anything but him. 

"You're already breaking the rules."

"The game didn't start..."

"Game? it's not a game." That alone made you look at him. A dirty smile forming on his lips once more. 

"For me it is, for you, It shouldn't be..." you gulped. Not noticing his hands sliding closer to your knees. He leaned in, closer to you.

You held it, for a couple seconds, about 20 seconds before you flinched. His hands made its way to your thighs. When your body reacted, he immediately lifted his hands but you grabbed his wrist, leaving them where they were. His hand were now gripping them, the muscles were almost hard, showing how fit your thighs were. It kinda felt like a stress ball.

"F/n..? Sorry... I-" 

You squeezed your eyes shut. "My thighs are ticklish..." you whispered, letting go of his wrist. But he didn't move, still in his leaned-in pose. A breath escaped his nose, a dry chuckle.

"Ahhhhh- You cheated tho, I win.. what's my prize?"

He bowed his head, hiding his face. 

"Me, tell me and you'll receive.." he answered removing his hands from your thighs. 

Easy game. Seonghwa loves to play this game on conflicted feelings. He played this 'do this and I'll do anything' a couple time. People who are drawn to his handsome sculpted face would want nothing but to eradicate his body, hear what his sounds like, rip him apart for pleasure. 

This is a test for him, not a game. But last a test for you. Just to see who you really are. Was he wasting his time? He couldn't help it, it's either you two get it over with sooner or later. Because he feels like later might be too late. 

You could ask anything... anything! Ask someone who can do anything to do anything! You hit the real jackpot! Karina words ringed in your head, your thought cloud was covered in her dirty words. Your body wanted it, your lonely soul wanted it.

Your eyes landed on his warm hands gripping your slightly shaking thighs. His thumb moved slightly, the pads pressing down hard. 

Then it hit you. He was actually trying to tempt you. Trying to make you want it. But due to the lack of any type of intimacy. The touching didn't make you crave it, only made you even more nervous. And your excitement quickly turned hysterically shy. 

Wrapping your hands around his wrist, you gently pulled his hand off one of the most sensitive part of your body. You smiled before saying what you wanted... it was a simple and respectful request.

One Seonghwa didn't see coming. 

"Can I get a phone plan?" You asked, which made Seonghwa's smile drop from ten to one. 

"I- I can't do that.." he muttered, removing his hand from the warmth of your thighs 

"Oh come onnnn... I promise it's for a good reason!" You used both hand to grab one of his biceps and shook it gently. 

"F/n I can't, it's against the rules..."

"It's my prize..." you whined. 

"And you'll get one, just not that, now asked again." His demanded calmly, leaning in a tapped your nose gently.

After a small talk, you both concluded that this was the end of your night. You sat in his room for over an hour. 

It was nice, like talking to an old friend, you could do this more. Just not during your bed time...

"No work.."

"Huh?"

"You said you had work..." Seonghwa walked around the counter, taking your dirty dish. "Your broken hand... Kim already cut your schedule, check in with Jongho in two days..."

"But-"

"That's an order, Jagiya." Biting your lips, you nodded, squeezing your container. 

"Yes sir..." Seonghwa chuckled. 

"Never call me that..." he said taking both glasses, both shots still in them. 

"What then?"

"... Seonghwa... and no more Mr. Park... I'm only a year older than you, I'm not that old," he said turning around to the sink.  "Have a good night F/n," he said and you gently returned him a smile. 

"Goodnight... Seonghwa..." you bowed slightly and took your exit, navigating through the halls and back to your room where you found Marshmallow now on the other side of the room; it seems she moved her bed near the open window for some air. 

You sighed and put the now cold bun into the fridge before heading to your comfortable sheets.

After leaving his kitchen, Seonghwa was now sitting in his office, brought his legs up on his desk, sighing and recalling the night he had with you. He looked at the two shot that remained untouched. 

"She's definitely something, isn't she?" He mumbled, typing something on his phone. One hand on his phone and the other on his thigh. The ghost of your warm shaking thigh still lingered on his palm. He sighs, feeling kinda bad and surprised at the fact he pulled a move on you. He knew you wanted to fall into the temptation, but chose not too. He got rejected, and this time it didn't hurt. He could only smile.

Turning back to his phone, he requested exactly what you wanted, despite what he told you.

You laid in your bed, eyes still wide open, thinking about the night. Seonghwa, the powers, Karina, Mingi... You had so many questions to ask him, but he's not the best person you can talk to. You just can't seem to 'talk' to him without any eye contact or becoming a stuttering mess. 

"UGH! how can I be so stupid?!?" 

You ran your hands up and down your thighs in a stressful manner. Immediately the thought was replaced with the phantom of Seonghwa hands squeezing them. His long fingers with his thick rings pressed your squishy muscly thighs. 

Then you realize something... did someone just try to make a move on you...?

NEXT MORNING BOUNS

"I can't give you want, sorry I'll risk people tracking you." Seonghwa's said as the sun came back up, he meet you outside of your room. He leaned against the entrance of your room by the wall.

"You said you wanted to make a call?" He asked, taking out his phone. 

"Use mine." He called. Nudging it to you. You grabbed the phone gently and began to type away the number on the phone pad. 

"Can I take it into my room for a second?" You asked to which he silently hummed and gestured his hand to your door. 

You mumbled a small thanks and quick entered your room to make a quick phone call. It ringed a couple time before the person on the other line picked up. 

"Hello, this is Happy Hogan speaking." 

"HAPPY!" You yelled. 

"... yes?"

"It's me, F/n. F/n L/n..."

"..."

"Holy shit kido! How are you?" He yelled by in the same tone as you. To which you smiled brightly. 

"I'm ok, kinda got myself in a pickle but-"

"You want me to get you out of the pickle?" The older head leaned back against his office chair. His shoulders relaxed after hearing a familiar voice. 

Happy was Tony Starks personal assistant. You guys formed a bond between the years of working with the avengers. He was the one who fit the perfect father figure after the first foster one failed. He kinda was the one who kept you from fighting in all of the chaotic wars the Avengers were in as you weren't a legal adult. 

"unfortunately you can't help me in this one- I'm just curious, do you remember that one guy... um- oh! Aldrich Killian!?"

"That fire-y bastard?"

"Yeah, you don't happen have an injection for a user...?I'm trying to... you know..."

There was a pause on the line. 

"Holy shit F/n, what did you get yourself into?"

NOTES

❌ • You're growing a soft spot for Yeosang. Something about him makes you comfortable despite his weird nature

❌ • Hongjoong and Yunho run a secret therapy program outside of the therapy circle

❌ • with that phone call; You can't do much as of right now, but you can aid the ones who can

❌ • F/n been feeling low lately but after the night she had with Seonghwa, she started to feel a little better and less anxious

<<<<<<Previous Chapter | Next Chapter>>>>>>>

OUT ON WATTPAD TOO

I am so sorry for the wait. I got constant blocks, it was already written but i wanted to edit it to make it more interesting but it got SOO messy. This chapter is over 12k words the draft is over 14k. I CUT SO MUCH. 

I also had been busy with school and finals are almost over 🎉 I'll be going home to rest for about a bit so I hope I can get out of this writers block! Till then, thank you for your patience. Take care of yourselves and I <3 y'all.

Also genuine question, how do we like the MC?

Taglist! <3

@yayaistime @mermaid17venus @yeodeulz @fr34k4c1dr41n @yoongi-tunes @chocolate-scoups @pandafuriosa60 @lngwayup @huachengsbestie01

[artiststarme]

False Alarm

Thanks to @doubleb11 for this idea! It was fun writing this with all of the chaos. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments! Also, if anyone comes up with a cool title for it, please let me know!

(now on Ao3)

~*~*~*~

Steve sighed as he sat on the edge of the lake up by his parent’s lake house a couple of hours north of Hawkins. It had been months since the events of Spring Break and dealing with the aftermath of it but Steve hadn’t had a chance to get away to decompress. His time, for months, has been spent carting Max back and forth to physical therapy while her mom worked double shifts, playing bodyguard for Eddie against everyone in town, and hosting DnD at his parent’s house so the kids could act like kids. Between the Party and working back to back shifts at Family Video, Steve was at his wit’s end. So, he did what he always did when he was feeling particularly stressed. 

He called off of work, packed his old school backpack, raided the pantry for snacks, and set off towards his parent’s lakehouse. 

Whenever the silence in his house grew too suffocating or the pressures in Hawkins got too great in the past, he’d leave for a weekend or two. He would drive up to his parent’s lakehouse and relax for however long it took to feel like himself again. Steve would wait until the tension in his shoulder lessened to nothing and the heaviness in his chest lightened. When he finally felt normal again, he would drive back and return to reality, or his fucked up version of it anyway.

Sitting at the lakeside with a cold beer in hand, alone with nature after feeling suffocated with responsibilities back home was enough for him to breathe. 

He’d been pulling this de-stressing disappearing act for years without any repercussions. Whenever he got a bad grade or a particularly gruesome loss in basketball, he’d drive up here for some alone time to wallow. His ‘friends’ at school certainly didn’t notice his absence and didn’t care if they did. His parents too were unaffected with his weekend trips. They never cared when he left, probably wishing he would stay gone. 

After the Upside Down, his disappearances became more frequent. He’d throw some clothes in a bag and hop in his car when he had a bad nightmare or when his head started to ache. He even set up his bedroom at the lakehouse to be an infirmary of sorts, a place he could go to recover from nasty migraines whenever they sprung up. Steve’s biggest fear was becoming a burden to the people he cared about and ending up alone so he hid his weaknesses, dealing with them himself. After his first three experiences with the Upside Down, no one questioned his weekend excursions. They were too busy trying to recoup themselves to worry about him. Inevitably, he would go back to Hawkins and things would continue as they always had. He would hold the facade of having things together and would be available for the kids when they needed him, without having anyone available for him. 

So just like always, when the itch to disappear for a while had come, Steve packed his things and took off without a word. When his heartbeat stopped fluttering and the tension headache faded, he would go back home to his friends that never noticed him missing anyways. 

But for now he would enjoy the views of the lake without going for a swim, PTSD from Spring Break had ruined that, and would relax in a place that had always felt comforting to him. 

~*~*~*~

Eddie was worried about Steve. For the past week and a half, conversations with him had begun to feel one sided with Steve always staring out into the distance, like he wished he could be anywhere else. He kept catching him rubbing at his temples and stressfully scrubbing his hands down his face. 

When Eddie mentioned it to Robin, she explained that those were some of the signs Steve started to show when a migraine was encroaching on him. After her closing shift at Family Video, he drove them both to the Wheeler’s house to pick up some homemade chicken noodle soup with Nancy in tow. Then they went to Steve’s house. 

The usually inviting home was completely dark which made Eddie and Nancy pause. Eddie had never seen the home look so foreboding. Robin didn’t so much as pause in her ministrations.

“The lights hurt his head when he’s having a migraine. I bet the dingus has just been staying in bed the past few days, not even feeding himself. Let’s bring some sustenance to the self-sacrificing idiot,” she answered their unasked question and proceeded to the house. 

But the front door was locked. Both her and Nancy turned to Eddie who just looked at them blankly. 

“Well? Pick the lock!” Robin said, waggling her hands in front of the door. 

“Why would I pick the lock?” He asked her confused. 

“Because it’s locked and I don’t have a key. Pick it!”

“Why can’t we knock and have him open it? If any of the neighbors see me picking his lock, they’ll call the cops and I’ll get arrested!” 

Nancy sighed in exasperation. “Eddie, who cares if they call the cops? Hopper will be on our side and Powell and Callahan are useless anyway. Pick the lock or I’ll shoot it.”

“Nice try,” he said condescendingly. “You didn’t even bring your gun.”

“Didn’t I?” She asked, raising a brow in challenge.

Eddie swiped a hand down his face and pulled a couple of bobby pins from his bun. He wasn’t going to argue with Nancy “gun-slinging” Wheeler, thank you very much. After a few twists, turns, and pokes, the door opened with a soft groan. 

“Thank you,” Robin muttered sarcastically and slid past him. Nancy glared at him and did the same. Eddie looked around the neighbor’s houses before sighing defeatedly and ducking inside to follow the girls. If he got arrested for breaking and entering, Wayne was going to be pissed. At least he was doing it in an effort to help Steve. 

The problem was, Steve wasn’t there. Robin looked frantically all over the house, the basement, and the backyard but she couldn’t find him anywhere. What she did find though was an empty snack stash, a missing bomber jacket, and a lack of school backpack in his closet. 

“Holy shit guys, I think he left! He felt so miserable that he left! Oh my god, what kind of platonic soulmate am I that I didn’t even notice that Steve was suffering? Oh no, what if he doesn’t know we care? I don’t know how to live without him. Nance, Eddie, what do we do?!” Robin rambled, her voice was teetering on the edge of hysterics. 

Nancy looked just as shocked as she did, her own voice shaky when she spoke. “I-I don’t know. Steve is the one that’s always grounded, always so sure of everything. I don’t know what to do. Maybe we can call a code red, alert the kids?”

“Yeah, yeah, we have to, right?” Eddie muttered. Through all of his paranoid wondering, this is not a scenario he had imagined. 

For the next three days, the entire Party searched for Steve. Eddie helped Nancy and Robin visit all of Steve’s old haunts and current hangouts. The kids tried to reach his walkie on Cerebro and tried to call his parents, although they never answered. Hopper, Joyce, and even Murray called hospitals and morgues all over the state of Indiana but nothing came of it.

It was like Steve had disappeared off the face of the Earth. El and Will were positive that it wasn’t Upside Down related, they were sure that the Upside Down was gone for good. Even if it wasn’t they were 100% certain that they would feel it. Dustin and Lucas assured the group that he must’ve been kidnapped. There was no other alternative, Steve wouldn’t just leave. Mike and Max though were a little more pessimistic in their speculations. They thought that maybe Steve didn’t care about them as much as they thought he did. Why else would he run away?

Robin and Eddie in particular were distraught. Robin because her platonic soulmate was missing, because he didn’t feel that he could come to her. Eddie because the object of his affections, his current best friend, and potentially future boyfriend, was missing. They hadn’t discussed feelings yet but their flirting was escalating rapidly so it was only a matter of time. Unless they couldn’t find him which would leave whatever they had on the cusp of something. 

Nancy was horrified at the prospect of Steve leaving. They weren’t in a great place, they never were after Barb disappeared and she called him bullshit. Things were awkward between them now, as they had been for years. But she liked to think they were friends, friends that could lean on each other when they needed to. To discover that Steve didn’t feel that way was heartbreaking. 

And Hopper? Hopper felt like he failed the kid. He knew the Harrington’s were always out of town and he knew that Steve was in that big house all by himself a majority of the time. He should have checked in more, should’ve made him feel more included in his own little family. And now he was gone for good and he would never get the chance. 

~*~*~*~

Steve was feeling refreshed after a few days away. After a mere few days relaxing without responsibility and worry, his heart felt lighter and his head felt clearer than it had in months. He felt good enough to return to his day-to-day life so he took one last view of the picturesque water, threw his bag into the car, and took off. 

The drive back home was always longer than the one he took to the lake house but he passed the time singing to his mixtapes and having a good time. He was bopping his head and singing along to a Queen song, living his best life as he drove past the Welcome to Hawkins sign when he saw police lights behind him. 

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered while he pulled his car over onto the shoulder. Thirty seconds into this goddamn town and it was already giving him problems. 

He didn’t expect Hopper to be the one that pulled him over but alas, when he rolled his window down, he was met with the full-force anger of Hopper’s glare. Steve didn’t know what he did to deserve that but he tried to placate him regardless. “Hey Hop-” 

“Where the hell were you?” He asked, his tone dry and angry.

“On vacation, why?” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Had they noticed he left?

“Step out of your vehicle,” Hopper said and stepped back from his car door. 

“What are you going to do, search it for drugs? I don’t have Eddie with me so you’re not going to find any.”

“Steve, get out of the car!” He yelled. 

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes but did step out of the Beemer. “Hop, what are you doing? I’ve been driving for hours, I just want to go home for a nap-”

He was cut off when Hopper pulled him into a bear hug. “Jesus Christ, Harrington. You scared the hell out of me. You can’t just take off like that.”

“O…kay,” Steve returned his hug but mostly just stared at Hopper’s side profile like he’d gone insane. 

Hopper pulled back enough to rest a hand on his neck like a dad would, lovingly. “C’mon kid, hop in the cruiser.”

“Hop, I’m not just going to leave my car here!”

“Get in the cruiser, Harrington! Now!” He yelled again.

With a couple of grumbles, Steve grabbed his backpack and locked his car. He slid into the passenger seat of Hopper’s police SUV and they were off. Any time Steve tried to speak, ask Hopper what the hell was happening, he just received a gruff, “not now.” 

He didn’t know what was going on but it was safe to say, Steve had never been so confused in his life. 

When the car finally stopped, they were sitting in front of the Byers’ house. Hopper stepped out of the car and motioned for Steve to get out as well, which he did confusedly. “Okay, what-”

Hopper quickly circled to his side of the cruiser and slapped some cuffs around his left wrist. He fastened the other side to his own wrist and pulled him via the cuffs up the driveway. 

“Hop, no offense, but have you lost your goddamn mind? What the fuck are you doing? Are you arresting me? I’m so confused!”

The entire Party came rushing out of the house when they heard his enraged shouts of confusion. When he turned to Robin to ask her what the hell was happening, he was assaulted by the ramble of all rambles. 

“Steve! What the hell, Steve. I was so worried! Eddie told me that you were having some migraine symptoms so we were going to bring you some of Mrs. Wheeler’s homemade chicken noodle soup that you really like so we went to your house but all of the lights were off and the door was locked and I didn’t have a key! You’re getting me a key by the way because you pull stuff like this way too often. Then, I told Eddie to pick the lock to the front door but he didn’t want to because he didn’t want to get arrested for breaking and entering, like you would ever press charges. Nancy threatened him with her gun though so he did pick the lock but you weren’t there! And then we called a code red and we were looking for you for days because we didn’t know where you went! We thought you were dead, Steve. Where did you even go? Where were you?”

Steve just looked at her blankly from his position cuffed to Hopper for a moment. He blinked and asked her, “Nancy threatened Eddie with her gun?”

“Yes, Steve! I did, now where were you!?” Nancy yelled at him from her place behind the group of rowdy children. He was apt to ignore her question until Eddie came up beside him and swung an arm over his shoulder. 

“It wasn’t so much a threat as it was a reminder that she had a gun in her purse. I’m really glad you’re back, Stevie. I was worried out of my mind, Big Boy! Where’d you go?” 

Well, he couldn’t ignore Eddie, especially not when he was so close to him studiously ignoring Hopper’s glare. 

“I went up to my parent’s lake house. It’d been a while and it was nice to get away. Why were you so worried?” Steve asked. 

“Because you disappeared without telling anyone!” Hopper flailed his hands in outrage which only succeeded in jerking Steve’s wrist all over as well. He sighed and unlocked the handcuffs when Steve glared at him. “Kid, we thought you’d been killed or sucked back into the Upside Down. You can’t just leave like that.”

“Okay, next time I’ll tell you guys. I’m sorry you thought I was dead, or missing, or whatever. Now, can someone please give me a ride back to my car?”

~*~*~*~

It had been two weeks and Steve was pretty sure he was living a nightmare. He hadn’t gotten any time alone since he got back to Hawkins and he didn’t know why! He was halfway tempted to up and disappear again to prove a point because this was getting ridiculous. 

Steve prided himself on being independent, he had to be since he was left alone for most of his life. So being stalked and accosted constantly was wearing him a bit thin. Hopper keeps showing up at his house to drag him to the station to “talk”. He doesn’t know why he keeps being arrested but he’s over it. Whenever he leaves Family Video after a shift, one of the kids pops up seemingly out of nowhere to ask for a sleepover or pool party. He went grocery shopping on Tuesday and could see the flash of red hair from his peripheral the entire time. And they’re inviting themselves into his house too! He’s moving a bookshelf and suddenly, there’s Eddie lifting the other end. 

He reaches his limit one day when he’s trying to take a dip in his pool and looks up to see Murray’s head peeking over his hedge. The guy has a glass of vodka in one hand, binoculars in the other, wearing an open robe and wife beater like a nosey neighbor. The thing is though, he’s not Steve’s neighbor. He lives in fucking Illinois! 

Steve pulls himself out of the pool, fully glaring at Murray. He leaves the patio door open when he steps into his kitchen so Murray can hear him speaking on the phone. 

“Sheriff's department, what’s your emergency?”

“I’m being stalked. Literally, anywhere I go everyone is watching me. I swear to god, I was just sitting at my pool and I saw goddamn Murray Bauman’s head pop out from behind one of the hedges. He’s standing there right now, acting like I can’t see him,” Steve said with his eyes meeting Murray’s directly. This fucker doesn’t even blink at being called out. He simply drops the binoculars and raises his middle finger up in the air, completely deadpan and off putting. 

“Oh, you-”

“Sir, it’s a crime to place a false police report and we need this line free to take actual emergencies.”

“This is a real emergency! Is Hopper there? I bet he’s the one behind all of this! I need to talk to him.” Steve shouts, his patience waning with every word. 

“Chief Hopper is out on important police business.”

“Is this Callahan? You really are fucking useless, fuck you!” Steve yells and disconnects the call. 

(Callahan just looks at the phone when he hangs up like ‘what the fuck did I do?’)

Eventually, Steve and the rest of the Party would sit down and discuss their fears and things would go back to normal. But for now, Murray would watch Steve Harrington pace around his kitchen with increasing amounts of rage with the utmost amusement. He didn’t know what to expect when Jim told him to keep an eye on the Harrington boy but geez, is he glad he decided to help.

Permanent tag list: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1

[gay-for-the-snz]

Day 10: The Sniffles™️ (M, cold)

Coworker interactions are so important to me. These fools don't get enough of eachother working like 25+ hours a week together, they've gotta hang out outside of work also. 2k

⁂

"haH-! heEZZHHieww! eEZZHhyue!" He snuffles into his tissues, pinching at reddened nostrils through it. "Excuse me." He's already losing his consonants, distinctly aware of the fact that he's going to be impossible to understand and aching behind his teeth by this time a day or two from now. He shoves the tissues back into the pocket of his sweatshirt, immediately changes his mind, and fishes them back out to press to leaking nostrils.

"I don't know why you don't just skip." Bolormaa's been idly following behind him, scrolling on his phone as they wander the aisles of the Costco.

"Because," he snuffles again, the sound of it miserably wet, "I already agreed to go, and we don't exactly have the choice in skipping it, and you said you didn't mind coming with me--"

"And I don't."

"--so there's no point in trying to dodge the meeting just because I'm a touch under the weather."

He snorts in response. "Yeah, okay."

He frowns, actually distracted from his task of trying to cross off his list by it. "What do you mean, 'yeah okay'?"

"Listen, man, you're never just a 'touch under the weather'. You're always like 'ohhh, uhhhh, you know, it's just the sniffles', and then you walk in and it's like the bubonic plague. I know you can't help it or whatever, but it's never 'just' anything."

He opens his mouth to speak, thinks better of it, and closes it again. He very conspicuously puts the tissues back into his pocket. "It's not that bad."

"What are we here buying right now?"

"A couple snacky things for the meeting so people don't eat eachother at this thing."

"And what else are we buying?"

He blushes. "Nothing."

"Oh? Nothing? Not, say, tissues because the supply closet is empty of them again, because someone's coming down with something?"

"No."

"Dude, be so for real right now."

"I hate to disagree--"

"For a man who hates to disagree, you sure aren't agreeing?"

"Bolormaa, please, can't we just drop this?"

He rolls his eyes, but seems to drop the topic, if only because instead he pops a piece of gum in his mouth. "We still need to get those light bulbs, and the cat food."

"Oh! I forgot about the cat food, actually."

"That's why I'm holding the list."

That, and they both know that he'll immediately lose it and forget everything if he's in charge of it. Instead, his task is the guy pushing the cart, and reaching all of the tall shelves. And, interspersed in there, he's the guy tending to a budding cold, though now he feels weirdly guilty and self conscious about it. Not that there are many people in a warehouse at almost nine pm, but still. He wishes they could just do this in the morning on the way--it's past his bedtime by a long shot, but if he wanted company, this was the only option.

"Bolormaa, do y--you-? hh-! hH'DZZHHue! iidZZHHyue! eiIZZHHhyue!" He crumples into the sleeve of his sweatshirt, no hope of even attempting to get the tissues back out in time, and grimaces at the dark spots on the grey fabric from it. He sniffs, scrubs hard at his nose with the rather bedraggled tissues, and sighs. "Excuse me."

"Do I...?"

"Uhmb--" he sniffs hard, dismayed at how useless it's proving to be, and pinches at the tip of his nose. "Do you remember what brand of cat food they get? I think the bag was...orange?"

"They stopped eating the orange one, didn't they? Now it's the old man one. The blue one?"

"I thought the old man one was the green one they didn't like?"

They are distinctly aware of the fact that it's almost closing time and all of these cat foods actually look exactly the same. "We could just...pick one..."

"...right. Like...this one...?"

"That's--...hm. Maybe if we...got a different one altogether...?"

They stand there, motionless, staring at the sacks of cat food. "Okay, hear me out: we just get them...the one that I get Arthur...and if they don't eat it then I'll just take it home...and buy the Captain a different bag..."

It isn't necessarily the best solution to this problem--anything that necessitates potentially making a second trip into Costco is automatically a bad idea, because everything in there costs a million dollars and he has no self control, but the other option is to just not feed the warehouse cats, which seems like an even worse idea, so he resigns himself to needing to take a grown up with him if he has to come back and hefts the bag into the cart.

"Right, so that--Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, my nose will not stop running--so that covers, uh, everything then?"

"Light bulbs."

"Right. Light bulbs...I wiillll....remember...the light bulbs..." He pushes the cart slowly, staring down each aisle they pass like he's diffusing a bomb and stepping down the wrong one is going to kill him. "Do you, uh--"

Oh.

He stares at the blank space where Bolormaa had been standing, now conspicuously devoid of butch lesbians.

Well fine then. He'll just find the light bulbs on his own. And people accuse him of wandering off! Hmph.

He huffs in irritation, though takes the opportunity to look around, and awkwardly tears open the pack of tissues to grab a couple. He hates doing this--it feels so wrong! He doesn't want them to think he's stealing!--but if he doesn't blow his nose, he is going to die, and that would be a pretty big downer for the meeting in the morning!

The mere sound of it makes him blush with embarrassment, desperately wet and uncomfortable, but it's--

"Feeling better?"

He jumps so badly that he rams his knee into the back of the cart, and can't help the profanity that he cries out in that strangled sound of anguish.

"Jesus, dude, no need to try and take out the cart!"

"You--" he takes a second to try and gather himself a little, still tucked into the tissue he's been holding onto for dear life. Right. One thing at a time. He pinches at his nose, sniffles as sharply as he can, and tucks them back into his sweatshirt pocket. "You wandered off. I didn't expect you to be back so soon."

"Yeah, well, we needed tissues still, and you were on the prowl for light bulbs." He's casual in the way he drops a couple of those big bulk packs of boxes into the cart. "You should be fine until we get out of here, right? Since...you know..." his eye contact is piercing as he glances up and locks eyes, "it's just the sniffles..."

Ah. So that's the game he's playing here, then. Holding the tissues hostage in exchange for an admission of illness. He chews the inside of his cheek, fingers running over the (damp, bedraggled) tissues currently in his pocket. "Right. I'll be fine."

"Okay."

"Right."

They stand there staring at eachother for a moment, before he finally looks at his watch.

"It's almost closing time. We should get a move on before they're mad at us for being in here."

"I think they already don't want us in here."

"I'm sure they don't, but they're going to want us here even less when it's actually closing time." He nudges the cart forward, until Bolormaa opts to just stand on the edge of it to be pushed along as well. That's fine, it's not like they've really picked up anything substantial except the cat food, and even that's a manageable sack when it's in the cart. "Were you still picking me up or did we change our minds about that?"

"Yeah, me and Niklas are gonna grab you since you're on the way, and then when it's over he's staying and I'm gonna take you home and then, I don't know, get breakfast or something, and then head back for actual start time." His fingertips drum along the tops of the boxes of tissues, a steady rhythm that, he supposes, forms the percussion to whatever he starts humming under his breath.

"Bolormaa?"

"Elliott?"

"If I--" he wavers, feeling that horribly ticklish, sneezy feeling rearing its head again. "If I said I needed tissues, would you--hh-!--would you letme--hH-!?"

"Would I let yooouuu...?"

"Letme--eEIIZZHHyue! hDT'ZZHHieww! hh...hih-! hiH-!? ...hYEIZZHHuue!"

He looks so smug as he tears open the plastic, handing him one of the boxes from the pack. "I will accept your admission of sickness."

He sighs, deeply, taking a handful from the box and blows his nose, wincing at the sound of it. He's absolutely dripping with cold at this point, unable to do anything more than to pray for this cold to be over swiftly and painlessly. He highly doubts it will be.

Bolormaa doesn't say anything more about it in the drive home, only comments occasionally that there should be a law about headlight brightness, and also that they should really re-pave his apartment complex's parking lot, because the potholes could be kiddie pools by this point, casual in his refusal to embarrass him further than he already is. It's sweet, in its own way.

He gives him a friendly punch on the shoulder. "Alright, just leave it all in the trunk. I don't care about having to bring it all up just to load it all back down in the morning." He can't deny the sympathetic little look in his eye when he allows him to lean in for a hug. "Get some sleep. I'll see you--and your sniffles--in the morning."

He gives him a little squeeze, and then watches as he drives back off into the night. He glances at his watch, and winces at the time. Dang, it's later than he wanted to be getting home.

He's still got one box of the tissues tucked beneath his arm--at Bolormaa's insistence--as he jogs up the stairs, losing steam after the second flight and settling to a walk for the remaining few. He's thankful he isn't weighed down by groceries just yet, and especially to have his hands more or less both free, so that he can occupy one with unlocking the front door and one with holding a couple of the newly gifted tissues to his leaking nose to keep it from dripping as he shoulders open the door and is immediately struck by the temperature change.

The apartment, warm and dark, stands in stark contrast to the cold night that shows his breath in steaming puffs, caught in the harsh white of the lights on the landing that the landlord finally installed after enough people complained over the tripping hazard. His nose takes notice immediately.

"hHYEIZZHHieww! iiZZHhyue!" He braces himself against the door frame, hunched as they tear their way over an already tender throat, and he teeters on the precipice of a third, tissues pulled away enough to take a stuttering breath. Scarlet nostrils quiver indecisively, the tickle coquettish and coy in the way it teases. His shoulders sag in defeat, and he's halfway straightened up before it resurges with ferocity, catches him so off guard he's unable to get the tissues back up in time. "hH'DDZZHHyue!"

He sniffles thickly, his cheeks hot with embarrassment at the cloud of spray and the fog of his breath that he catches lingering in the air from it. Tenderly, he cups damp nostrils in the tissues to massage at his nose, still acutely aware of the prickly irritation that hasn't fully subsided in the wake of the recent trio.

He doesn't even bother undressing, just kicks off his shoes and shrugs out of his coat, before wriggling underneath the blanket with his--literally--ill-gotten tissues cradled on the bare space on the mattress beside him. He's sure that by the time he opens his eyes in the morning, he'll be absolutely frightful, but for the time being he's content to stay with the unbelieved notion that this is, as Bolormaa put it, merely the sniffles.

[brahmsthirdracket]

jack, luke, their long-suffering father and a flying cow 🐮

Jim can only assume that the charter crew must spend the rest of their flight hours couriering coked-up musicians and weird, smelly tech bros around the country because they don’t bat an eyelid at the sight of his disheveled children.

They really do look ridiculous: Jack is sleepy and unshowered, with one arm immobilized in a sling and the other clutching an enormous cuddly brown cow that’s almost as big as he is; and Luke, who’d shown up in Colorado with a body fluid percentage of approximately sixty percent vodka sours, is shuffling along in two different shoes and his mother’s sunglasses.

In fairness to Luke, he’d been sent a ticket for a red-eye to Colorado at 10 p.m. the night before by his father. In fairness to the father in question, Luke’s twenty damn years old.

Luke had frowned when this had been imparted to him in the VIP lounge at Eagle County Regional Airport, the last few stars giving way to weak, early morning sun. Through the glass of the terminal they the dark mass of the mountains lighten into a brown scrub and patches of unmelted snow.

“Like,” he pauses, brow furrowed, and Jim can practically see the cogs turning slowly in his pickled little brain, like some kind of Smirnoff mill. “I’m twenty so I’m young enough to not be underage drinking, or I’m twenty so I’m old enough to be more resp- responsible?”

“Both!” Jim snarls, trying to lean around Jack and his cow, who are each taking up a seat.

The wind sweeps the grasses on the side of the runway in graceful arcs and rattles the chain link fence. Jack, who’s been subsisting almost exclusively on morphine and ice cream for the last few days, sways unsteadily on the first flimsy step.

“Give me the cow, honey,” Jim tells him from behind, already exasperated.

“No,” Jack grunts out, tightening his hold and hobbling up another step. He hasn’t let go since its surprise appearance at the hospital last night, accompanied by a truly obscene amount of Swiss chocolate. Jim perks up at the thought of the nougat, and he patiently shuffles up the steps behind his son, one step at a time and a palm resting securely on his back the whole way.

Just ahead of them, Luke manages to trip on the top step and is saved from concussing himself on the drinks cart by the ample chest of one of the stewardesses.

“I’m an elite athlete,” he tells her solemnly and walks straight into an overhead locker.

Jim breathes in for four, holds for four and out for four, just like he tells his players. Of course it doesn’t really work and he snaps his eyes open just in time to yank Luke by the scruff of his neck in the direction of a seat before anyone has to call a lawyer.

As requested, the cabin crew have reclined two of the leather chairs that face each other and made them up with sheets, pillows and soft, cream-coloured blankets. After a lifetime of cramped sleeper buses and cheap red-eyes, Jim doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to traveling like this.

Jack - who definitely has got used to traveling like this - toes off his sneakers carelessly and collapses down onto the bed, or as much as he can without putting any weight on one side of his body. The ridiculous cow takes up half the seat but at least it supports Jack’s back so they can wrangle him comfortably on his right side.

“Where did the damn thing come from anyway?” Jim asks again, to no-one in particular as the wheels clunk up into the belly of the plane.

Ellen just gives him her patent did-I-really-marry-someone-this-dense look and goes back to typing up a meds schedule for Luke to follow.

“It’s an alpine cow,” Luke says, completely nonsensically, and snickers.

Jim points a finger at him. “You’re lucky the seat belt sign is on buddy.”

He rummages until he finds the chocolate - Jack won’t mind, he can’t have it anyway because of his diet plan - probably. Luke eyes him hopefully from across the aisle but: “He’ll have a double espresso,” Jim tells the hostess.

Jim settles himself into his comfortable leather seat, breaks into a dark milk nougat and calls the only one of his children who could legally operate heavy machinery right now. Quinn’s rumpled and sleepy face appears after a couple of rings and Jim feels immediately calmer.

“Good game, kiddo,” he says, without preamble.

“Yeah, uh thanks,” says Quinn, shuffling around in the frame.

Jim flips the camera - without having to turn the whole phone around, thank you very much - so Quinn gets a view of Jack cuddled up with his ridiculous cow.

Quinn squints into the camera. “Oh, nice. It actually made it in time.”

“So you sent it?”

“What? No, obviously it was-”

But who it was Jim never gets to hear, because Luke starts suddenly making insistent mooing noises across the aisle. Jim covers the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand.

“Hit him for me, honey,” he calls to Ellen, who just gives Luke a gentle cuff around the back of the head without looking up from her iPad, then runs her fingers through his curls.

One of Jack’s feet is sticking out from under the blankets, still in the bright blue hospital-issue socks with the little no-slip stickers. Even fast asleep, and clearly exhausted, he’s clutching the cow. Oh well. At least he and Quinn have a whole damn house now to store all of their weird crap.

“Dad?”

“Sorry, bud - where were we?” Jim curls a hand around Jack’s foot and squeezes gently as he and Quinn get into the nitty-gritty. The crew will have seen worse than a flying cow. Probably.

[jamiesfootball]

some word(s) for you (so you have options): lie, slow, green, night

Thank yoooooooou. I took all the options : )

Lie

Soon as he was given the all-clear, Jamie checked himself out of the hospital. The doctors fussed at him about concussion protocol, but it was nothing Jamie hadn’t heard before, and once he’d repeated it back to them and assured them that he had someone back at the house who could look after him, they were mollified. Jamie called himself an Uber and went home. It wasn't a lie, technically. They didn’t need to know it was more the other way around. Wasn’t his first concussion but it wasn’t his dad’s either. Jamie stiffened as James tilted his face up into the kitchen light. His old man let out a low whistle. “Damn, Barnett really has it in for you, lad.” He sounded impressed. “Recorded the match. The second you got carted off, Obisanya lost the ball in a challenge. Nearly bottled it once he got it back, but the scoundrel pulled through in injury time.” He leaned in like they were conspiring together. “Injury time you earned them, by the way.” Jamie didn’t comment.

Slow

Slowly, Jamie relaxed. Jan took the cue and applied more pressure. He pushed his thumbs into the base of his skull, drawing circles as he worked his way upwards. The hair in the back was shorn short so it was fairly easy to clean. He scrubbed everything back and forth, up and down, until the bristles were squeaky and smooth under his fingers. He cupped his hand under the water. "Head down."

Green

Jamie huffed. "Not gonna need more coffee at this rate." He scrubbed a hand over his face - and then buried his face in both his hands, rubbing at the circles under his eyes. "Sorry." "For what?" "For this. When I called him last night, I didn't think he'd show up." Roy froze. He squeezed the mug of tea in his hands, let the warmth ground him. He counted backwards from ten, forwards to ten counting all the things he could spy outside that were green (all of them), and then backwards from ten again for good measure.

Night

At night the pain came for him. He woke with his leg on fire. The days did not let him heal; the nights were for prolonging the agony. Each moment as fresh as the first. Ceaseless. Unending. A fire that would not let him die. Dani learned to be grateful that in this place, the fire was only a metaphor.

[sillymarigolds]

Well it has been a hot minute. I wanted to share something with all of you wonderful THG/Everlark peeps! This WIP based on @promptsinpanem's "Peeta's Paintbox" has been sitting on my computer unloved for a while because (a) I'm not sure what I'm doing with it and (b) I'm more time poor than usual.

I've signed up to @promptseverlark's Summer "This Would Have Happened Anyway" challenge and am hoping that will give me a big kick up the gluteus maximus to get back into writing because I miss Everlark and all of the beautiful creativity they inspire.

Without further ado...

Peeta's Paintbox (A WIP)

Since coming back to District Twelve, Katniss, Haymitch and I have come into our own rhythm of sorts.

Katniss hunts, Haymitch drinks, and I bake.

Despite not having done it in over a year, my body remembers the bakery’s hours. I rise with the earliest of bird calls when dawn still lies faint on the horizon.

Each morning I bake fresh bread. I add different spices, seeds, and nuts; try new combinations that would have made my mother frown.

Peeta's Paintbox (A WIP)

Since coming back to District Twelve, Katniss, Haymitch and I have come into our own rhythm of sorts.

Katniss hunts, Haymitch drinks, and I bake.

Despite not having done it in over a year, my body remembers the bakery’s hours. I rise with the earliest of bird calls when dawn still lies faint on the horizon.

Each morning I bake fresh bread. I add different spices, seeds, and nuts; try new combinations that would have made my mother frown.

I think my father would have liked the cranberry, orange and almond. He always loved when we could get oranges. He would carefully take off the rind to grate into cakes and divide the orange into segments – always eight –  putting aside four for his baking and then giving one to each of us brothers, saving the last one for himself.

When the bread is baking, I start on cookies to take to the workers clearing rubble and burying the dead. I would prefer to make little iced cakes, but they are difficult to carry and distribute. I tried once, but the icing melted in the midday sun and smeared across the inside of the carry boxes.

The cookies I make never taste right. Father always said he would only tell me the secret ingredient when I got older. Now the secret has been buried with him.

I have been past where the bakery once stood, and there is nothing left but ashes. I almost went to laugh at the irony, but my throat was so dry that all I could do was choke out was a cough that brought tears to my eyes. I had to wipe my eyes on my sleeve and come straight home before the sadness turned to anger.

I keep busy, walking through the streets handing out cookies to the crews that cart away what is left of the old District Twelve. I want sometimes for it to be back as it was, but other times I cannot wait to see it rebuilt from the ashes. I just wish there hadn’t been a need for all this suffering to make change. I take as indirect a route as I can manage, trying to soak up the hours until I know Katniss will be back again and I can start making dinner, keeping my hands and my mind busy.

I think about painting. The catharsis it gave me after I returned from the first Games. But my studio upstairs lays untouched. It feels haunted by the past. 

Today lots of crews have gone home early, so I find myself back hours before the twilight. I walk into the kitchen, looking around for a task. Each baking sheet, mixing bowl and spatula has already been scrubbed and is sitting drying in the afternoon sun. The kitchen benches have already been wiped down, smelling faintly of lemon.

I turn and walk through to the living room. The mending basket is empty, and the kindling box neatly stacked full. My fingers start to itch, feeling idle. Today is Katniss’s favourite kind of day in the woods, sunny and cool, so I know she will be gone some hours yet. Sinking down into the rocking chair, I close my eyes and curl each one of my fingers slowly in turn, pretending I am combing them through her dark hair.

I rock gently back and forth, curling my fingers over and over until I feel my heart skip a beat and then thud hard against my chest as if to compensate. My breath catches and I can feel the blood pulsing in my ears, accelerating as if to reach a crescendo. My knuckles are white as I grip the arms of the chair, eyes screwed shut.

My name is Peeta Mellark. I live in District Twelve. I survived the Hunger Games twice. I was tortured and survived.  I am safe now.

I am safe now.

I am safe now.

I start to whisper the words until I feel my heart slow and my grip loosen.

I decide to have a glass of water and I am greeted by a rainbow projected across the kitchen floor as the sunlight scatters through the glass mixing bowls. Each colour looks so vibrant and beautiful individually, but the collection of them spread at my feet stirs something inside me. It makes me think of the tubes of paint lined up beside the easel upstairs.

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Akane’s birthday was always the least thing to celebrate. No one was able to pay for a cake or a gift, no one to wish her a celebration, no one to even remember her birthday. She was more someone who would try and make her siblings’ birthdays a blast even if she gifted them something like a cheap car toy or a teddy bear made out of one of her old shirts and then feeding said birthday sibling something from the store or food cart with the money she saved up from her part time job. 

For years that’s how she lived, always orborating around her seven siblings like the Earth around the sun and never letting them not feel loved, never even once.

For years she dealt with being in the shadows while her parents didn’t do anything that isn’t lounging about and making love every night, making sure all seven were fed and bathed and got homework done before all her own needs. For years she dealt with working and doing the hardest tasks of her jobs so the little ones could at least get a rice ball in their stomachs. For years she dealt with the uncomfortable amount of lustful stares and wandering hands for the sake she won’t somehow seem weak to her siblings.

For years she never once bid to the selfish side.

A scream echoes across the hospital walls with the summer sun shining outside, people rushing and hurrying to the room with the scream’s source. Akane never once became selfish for years yet on the day of her 29th birthday her water broke.

It started a few years ago, a few weeks shy of her 18th birthday, when she became a mother for the first time with the help of her dearly beloved Nekomaru helped convinced her and their dearly sweetest Teruteru on helping him raise their small fireball Masaru after hearing what horrors he went through growing up. That boy grew fed, loved, cared for, and thanks to that household Masaru grew up very well alongside the other adults.

The three never really desired to get married at first but after Akane’s 21st birthday the men proposed to her and she quickly became from Akane Owari to Akane Nidai Hanamura, wife of top chef Teruteru Hanamura and mother of strong young boy Masaru Nidai. 

God, does thinking of that firework’s speech during the wedding melts their heart as he thinks how far he has grown since being that cocky scared boy.

Masaru paces back and forth in one of the waiting rooms, indeed no longer a scared little boy and now growing in his teen years strong and wise alongside the previous Warriors of Hope. “Will ma be okay?” He asked, his anxiety not hiding in his voice too well as his big blue eyes wide as his black nails pick and mess with his twitch of eager angst. 

Kotoko, like Masaru and the others grown quite well in her new family with her pink hair now cut in a very short style in a way it’d obviously modeled after the group’s idol, reaches up and stops his pacing with a soft yet firm wrist grab. “Calm down there tiger,” Said she, her voice still an adorable song bird but now softer and toner like a mocking jay’s sing song, “Your mama can handle a lot, that much is true. I don’t think she would like seeing you so stressed too.” 

The boy breathed in and slumped into a chair next to her with a heavy sigh.

After a few more minutes of defending slicing after the random screams and the wall clock clicking, the tall muscular man with a neat beard that is the most famous Gym Manager Nekomaru Nidai comes out of the room in scrubs and a look of awe and tears in his face.

Everyone stands on their feet watching him walk closer until they can read his beaming big smile before his booming voice shouts out, “It’s a girl!”

After some turns walking in people were finally able to see the tired Akane holding a wrapped bundle of joy in her hospital bed with a tearful face of Teruteru sitting beside the bed, red faced and sniffing with a big smile on his face. Her tired, tearful, yet beyond happy eyes finally look at the guest as she moves the blanket some showing the beautiful face of her newborn baby girl. “Hey guys, meet Momoka Hanamura.”

Meaning behind the name?

The ship?

I will die on this ship and me liking Teruteru

[ferel6]

(Tldr: new research study, got my first 12 lead ekg 🥰)

Have a new research study that I'm going to participate in, but needed to go to an initial screening to make sure I qualified for the research (you know you need to start working out/eating better when they call you in for research because your BMI is over 30 😑)

Regardless, I am still VERY excited to be a part of it. They are testing Angiotensin, which is naturally created in our bodies, but they want to see if it will help with lowering blood pressure and spark metabolism in obese patients (that's me 😓)

The screening was a blast. Had to fast for 12 hours prior, got up in the morning and brought my wife and son with me to drop them off at the zoo for the day while I completed my screening. Long car ride, lots of time to get hype. Watching them eat breakfast only got me more excited (I wasn't really that hungry and the fact that I couldn't eat was just a reminder of the coming events).

I dropped the fam off at the zoo and made my way over to the familiar parking garage and began my walk over to the vascular center, past the main hospital entrance with patients and staff milling about, past the cancer center (feeling lucky that I was here for a different reason than those poor souls), and finally past the emergency room entrance, watching an EMS crew loading up an ambulance. I've always enjoyed this walk, getting the sounds and smells of the hospital, seeing all the staff everywhere in their scrubs. Anticipation mounts.

I got up to the Clinical Research floor and the study coordinator was already waiting for me. She greeted me like I was an old friend (I've done maybe 7 study sessions with them now, so I know the two main coordinators well, and I'm starting to recognize some of the techs) and we walked past our usual room, through a set of doors, and into a less lit hallway and back rooms I'd never been in. She explained there was another patient here for the study so we had to do the screening elsewhere.

As a note, I am VERY professional when it comes to these studies. While I do them primarily because of my fetish, in the moment I internalize all of that and quash it down hard to remain neutral and keep my vitals from going haywire and throwing off the research. But going through darkened hallways into secluded, partially lit rooms full of carts and tables and wires and tubes and trays and machines, just the coordinator and me, got my mind fantasizing something fierce 😬😈

Luckily, as with all studies, we needed to sit and talk through EVERYTHING they were going to do to me during our session, today and the next if my bloodwork came back acceptable. So I had plenty of time to temper myself while she explained.

The screening would include a DXA scan, full body composition. I'd also receive a full check up from a physician at the hospital and my first 12 lead EKG (!), which the physician would need to check over to make sure it looked good. Then a quick blood draw would round out the screening.

She explained the next visit would include two IVs, one in each arm, one for the infusion of saline or the drug they were testing (blinded) and the other for blood draws during the procedure. I'd have a 3 lead ekg to monitor heartrate, a BP cuff on my arm and a finometer on my finger and strapped around my wrist, a blood oxygen monitor clipped to my ear, blood flow sensors taped to my stomach, arm and leg, and a tent-like canopy over my head to capture my breathing. Unlike some of my other studies with them, she told me I could practically sleep through this one, as it is a LOT of sitting around during infusion and just listening to my breathing, so she said most of her patients literally take a nap 😅.

While all this talk would normally not allow me to relax my anticipation, I tried my best to return dialog, asking questions and getting the coordinator to open up about why they were testing certain things, what the blood draws were for, talking to her about the research I'd already done on the drug and it's effects, and hearing her thoughts on how the study was going. The longer we talked the more I could feel my heart slowing to a much more manageable rhythm 🤭

We finally got to it, hopping up and taking my shoes and socks off for height and weight, then straight over to the table for my first full fledged EKG!! As you can see on my channel here, I have a 5 lead patient monitor, and I've been to other studies where they used a 3 lead, but I've never had the pleasure of a full 12 lead reading before.

The coordinator dragged the machine over, more a printer with a keyboard than the brilliant colorful screen with the green line we all know and love. She already had the square medline electrodes attached to the leads so she set about hooking me up, a constant flow of conversation making me feel at ease and keeping me calm during something that in retrospect turned me on SO MUCH. I felt the cold sticky adhesive on my skin as she talked about how they would unfortunately pull on my hair coming off, if this had been a stress test she'd have to shave my chest because of all the sweat and movement, but it wasn't a big deal for a short resting EKG, how some of her older male patients would complain about the shave because they were going on cruises in a weeks time. Just a constant barrage of stories of her wiring up others just like me.

Once the leads were attached, she wrapped a BP cuff around my right arm and turned on a different monitor behind me, noting the beeping sound on it as the machine complaining that there was no temperature sensor hooked up, "But it broke a while ago, so we had to take it out and now it just yells at us all the time that there's none in there. But it's OK we won't have it on long, just going to take your blood pressure twice and I'll turn it back off again while your EKG is running. 138/85 a little high, it should come down, I'll run it again. Oop, EKGs printing, let's take a look. Oh looks great, but we'll still need to call the physician up to check it over, I'll text him now while I run the other blood pressure check. Ok, messaged, 133/86 better, better."

See what I mean? Constant stream of conversation. She's awesome. I would chime in from time to time, noting things like "oh that BP is a bit high for me" or whatnot, but mostly I just listened and enjoyed.

With my EKG readings printed off, she came back over, unstrapped the cuff from around my arm, unclipped the leads from the electrodes and wheeled the machine back to the corner. I thought maybe I could leave the stickies on my chest this time and have a bit of fun at home later and began to pull my shirt back down, but the coordinator reminded me of my imminent DXA scan and came back over to rip the patches from my chest.

We waited for a while longer, talking again of other patients, the study, what each of the tubes of blood would be used for during the procedure, until the physician finally arrived. He was young and tall, wearing those oh so lovely pale green scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck.

We fistbumped for cleanliness as he introduced himself, talked with the coordinator about what she needed from him, then looked at my EKG printout. He confirmed everything looked fantastic, noted my BP at the top and signed it. Then he turned to me and told me to hop back up on the exam table again so he could check me over.

He got out his stethoscope and began his inspection, asking me questions about my health or telling me to take a big breath and hold it.

Another note here: I am straight, but where my medical fetish is concerned professionals, even males, can REALLY get my heart racing, so I had to slam my breaks hard to not give anything away here. Id already had my BP taken and an EKG run and now a young, fit doctor listening closely to my heart. Man that was a tough one.

Done with his stethoscope, he threw it around his neck again, brisk hands checking the pulse in my neck, both my wrists, my ankles, my feet. All while asking if I took any medications or if I had had any health concerns lately.

We finished up and he was baffled by my perfectly healthy condition 😇. He told us he NEVER gets to examine healthy patients in his line of work and it was very refreshing. I apologized for not having something wrong with me, eliciting a chuckle from all of us in the room.

He signed off my paperwork again and we walked him out of the clinic on our way to the DXA scan. We talked the whole way, him asking if this was my first study (the coordinator cutting in "No he's one of our regulars!" 🥰) asking if I was close to the facility (told him I'm about two hours away, "Wow! That's far! Well thank you so much for the help with these studies!")

We parted ways and the coordinator led me to a tiny room with a bed and a scanner over top of it. I changed into shorts and laid on the bed while she got the program under way. 7 minutes of lying stock still while the bed moved me around, taking the whole composition of my body (it's a very light x-ray). She printed an extra copy of my body comp (if you ever need motivation to get fit...go get a DXA. It is the most unflattering picture ever).

Then we went back to our room and she had me hop up on the bed again for the final thing: a blood draw. She told me it'd be quick and mostly painless, as she only needed two vials and was just using a butterfly needle.

A pro as always, strapped a tourniquet around my arm, cold alcohol wipe, a quick flash and her stream of conversation started back up as she pushed on my bicep to get the blood flowing through the tubes.

She wrapped my arm up and sent me on my way with my packets of paperwork.

The whole day was over in like an hour and a half, but was just so....chill. So relaxed. I'll update again on how my study goes once I go through that date, but I was just so excited to be examined, poked, prodded, carefully scrutinized again. And for my first ever full EKG.

These will always be long winded posts cause I need to get my feelings out, decompress. Feel free to message me to talk about similar experiences or if you have questions. Ya know...if you read this far 😅. I love talking to people about these feelings!

[stellarred]

Deja Q's cut scene

Riker: Q, we can't have you just wandering around the ship. You will either work, or be confined to the Brig. Understood?

Q: Work? Hmph. You mean labor. I'm as old as Time itself. I've created celestial marvels, wrapped the Universe around my little--

Riker: Q, I'm warning you.

Q: And now I'm being sent away to row with the rest of the slaves.

Riker: You like the Brig? Okay. Have it your way then.

(Riker motions for a security officer.)

Q: Ok, fine! What are my chores today?

Riker: We need someone to clean out the residue from the walls of the photon torpedo tubes. The viscous sludge is slowing down the speed of the torpedoes, and it has to be scraped off the walls from time to time.

Q: You have got to be kidding me.

(Riker smiles as someone enters the room with a bucket filled with water and soap, and a cart full of scouring pads.)

Riker: Nope.

Q: Just wait until I get my powers back.

(Riker smiles at Q, and then looks at the officer that came with the cleaning supplies.)

Riker: You're a new face, Lieutenant. You're...?

The lieutenant nods.

Lt. Rowe: Lieutenant Michael Rowe, sir.

Riker: Excellent. Have fun, Q. Lieutenant Rowe, let me know when he's finished. It shouldn't take more than eight hours or so.

(Riker leaves Q and the lieutenant alone in the room.)

Lt. Rowe: Right this way, Q.

Q: Someone's head is going to roll in the Continuum for this humiliation. A god on his very knees scrubbing space sludge off a wall! I may never recover from this.

Lt. Rowe: It won't be so bad. I'm sure Commander Riker will appreciate your efforts. He's always impressed when someone does dirty jobs to keep the ship operations running well.

Q: It's not Riker I want to impress. Besides, who does he think he is making me the Enterprise janitor and forcing me to do gopher work? Since my former family dumped me here I've delivered orders and equipment, and now I'm cleaning out the bowels of Picard's ship! What's next? Cleaning toilets? What am I going to get out of this?

Lt. Rowe: Appreciation, maybe? Now, to get to the inner torpedo chamber, you need a wrench to undo these bolts.

(The lieutenant shows Q the tightly- closed hatch covering the entrance.)

Q: I won't do it, I tell you! I refuse!

Lt. Rowe: Not even for Picard? He might be nicer to you.

(Q hesitates for a second.)

Q: I'm hoping for much more than nicer.

Lt. Rowe: I see. I think I can inspire you to go this extra mile for your captain.

Q: Go the extra mile for Jean-Luc, uh, I mean Captain Picard?

Lt. Rowe: I'll tell you what. You do this, and I'll arrange a date with him. Candles, romantic ambience, and all.

Q: Ridiculous. Why would you do this for me? Starfleet would have you clapped in irons in a microsecond if they found out!

Lt. Rowe: Hey, don't you recognize a helping hand when you see one, Q?

(A flash of light, and another member of the Q Continuum is standing there, smiling.)

Q: Q! What are you doing here? No one from the Continuum is supposed to help me!

Q8: Well, let's just say someone back home owed me a favor. Now, will you degrade yourself like this for your human?

(Q8 disappears just as Riker returns)

Riker: Well, Q? Why aren't you scrubbing gunk off the walls? Are you going to get to work, or not!

Q: Hey, I'm the man, Riker. Hand me a wrench.

[infinite-riches]

I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

Summary: The sky was already filled with grey clouds and a haze that only meant one thing– snow. And it was coming soon. It was rare for them to get snow thanks to their proximity to the coast and even when they did, it didn’t stick around long. As nervous as Johnny was about the impending storm, he was equally excited by the prospect of being snowed in with his lover.

Or: The boys get snowed in together.

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 4,567

Warnings: none :)

A/N: I am gonna take a minute to thank all the people that helped me with this monster piece. Lots of love to the CoD Babygirls and GhostSoap servers- so many people helped generate ideas and cheered me on and I'm so thankful to all y'all!

Extra love to my beta readers/editors for this piece: Xnihilo and ANTchan. All my fucking love to y'all cause I seriously couldn't have done this without your help <3

And as always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

The shop was bustling with people stocking up– word had gone out that a brutal winter storm was headed their way and it had everyone rushing out to prepare. Johnny scanned down the aisle, looking for a few pantry staples they had recently run short on when he felt the cart move, the familiar shadow of Simon in the corner of his vision.

With a glance down, Johnny couldn’t help but laugh. Tablet, shortbread, and caramel logs now rested atop the pile of groceries. “Ye and yer bloody sweet tooth!”

“You know you love me…” Simon responded, eyes crinkling at the corners, signaling he was smiling beneath his black medical mask.

“Aye, that ah do… now go be of some real help and grab some Irn-Bru, would ye?” Johnny just barely caught the way Simon rolled his eyes before slipping back down the aisle in search of Johnny’s favorite drink. Simon failed to understand the appeal of the strange orange soda. To him, the taste was a peculiar mix of cream soda, ginger, and bubble gum that made him want to scrub his tongue with a Brillo pad.

By the end of the shopping trip, two boxes of Simon’s favorite tea and a bottle of Johnny’s favorite scotch had also appeared in the cart alongside the things they actually needed– milk, bread, jerky, fish food for Bubbles and Casper, and cat litter for Old Man. This could quite possibly be their last shopping trip for several days– the threat of heavy snow combined with the location of their cabin almost guaranteed they would be snowed in.

As much as Simon had come to love their little cabin beyond the edge of town, he had to admit it had taken getting used to. The nicely sized cabin sat on a decent piece of land, with beautiful old pines along one edge of the property and sprawling green grass along the other. There was a large space cleared out behind the house where Johnny had taken to keeping a garden. Simon, on the other hand, had taken claim to the shed, using the space to fix up his motorcycle (and secretly fix one up for Johnny).

But the best part of their new home (and life together) was the privacy. The only people who passed along the road at the edge of the property were the neighbors who lived 5 miles down the road in either direction or the occasional lost tourists. Aside from that, they were left alone, with no one to bother them or their pets.

-----

Johnny couldn’t help but smile to himself on the drive back. The sky was already filled with grey clouds and a haze that only meant one thing– snow. And it was coming soon. It was rare for them to get snow thanks to their proximity to the coast and even when they did, it didn’t stick around long. As nervous as Johnny was about the impending storm, he was equally excited by the prospect of being snowed in with his lover.

Sure, he and Simon had their fair share of wintery missions– brutal snow storms, shitty MREs, and frozen fingertips– before they retired, but those paled in comparison to snuggling in front of the fire together, warm blankets and hot drinks in hand, watching fluffy flakes of white drifting past the window.

Simon’s hand found its way to rest comfortably on Johnny’s thigh, thumb brushing along the thick material of his jeans, “You good?” His voice was soft, having noticed the way Johnny was lost in thought.

Johnny hummed in response, a sweet smile spreading along his face, “Aye, just thinkin’…”

“Don’t hurt yourself, love,” Simon teased, a sly grin on his lips. Johnny reached over to smack Simon’s chest, a chuckle escaping his lips as he did.

-----

The bitter cold nipped at Johnny’s fingertips as he leaned against the door frame. He couldn’t help but stare as Simon worked his way through the long-neglected woodpile next to the shed. Strong, broad arms swung the axe through the air with ease, and a satisfying crack rang out each time the steel made contact with the soft pine. His eyes raked across the delicious outline of Simon’s muscles beneath his thermal shirt– jacket long shed so he didn’t overheat.

Johnny allowed his mind to wander, images of Simon on top of him, caging him in with strong, broad arms, firm fingers gliding down flushed skin filling his brain. He imagined warm lips working their way down from his ear to his jaw, neck, collarbone, from his sternum down– an especially loud crack of the axe stole Johnny’s attention from his fantasy. “Love, when yer finished, ah need help gettin’ a few things out from storage!”

“I’ll be in soon, we need anything from the shed?” Simon leaned on the axe, chest heaving from the exertion as he took in the delicious sight of Johnny wearing his sweats. The pants were hanging loose on his hips, his sleeves a little too long, the neckline showing just the top of Johnny’s shoulder. ‘Riley’ was emblazoned just above his heart. Simon tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. Johnny, the little minx, knew what it did to Simon when he wore his clothes, the way it made his heart race and head spin seeing his Johnny so clearly claimed.

“Dinnae think so… just bring some of that firewood in and I’ll help ye get the rest later!” With that Simon gave a nod and turned back to the woodpile. Johnny took one last sinful look at his ass before slipping back into the warmth of their house.

In all honesty, Johnny probably could have figured out a way to get their sleeping bags and insulated jackets down from storage on his own, but he much preferred Simon helping. After years spent skirting prying eyes and sneaking moments alone, Johnny had become greedy for Simon’s time and attention, unable to stand much time apart. That, and Johnny knew the cold would be seeping into Simon’s bones by now, fingers especially cold courtesy of his poor circulation.

It was almost automatic, the way Johnny moved towards the stove, putting the kettle on and reaching for Simon’s favorite mug– one Johnny had bought him. ‘World’s Best Dad’ was sprawled across the front but ‘Dad’ had been crossed out, replaced with ‘Lieutenant’. As he had a hundred times before, Johnny added two sugar cubes and a bag of Simon’s favorite Earl Grey to the mug. It had been one of the few subtle ways he had been able to care for Simon when they were deployed. Every morning, there had been a fresh, steaming mug on Simon’s desk accompanied by a sticky note doodle, always signed ‘–Johnny’.

The sound of the back door closing and boots on the hardwood brought Johnny from his thoughts. The kettle was already whistling, demanding his attention. Johnny filled the mug, meeting Simon halfway from the kitchen.

A few beads of water clung to his blond strands, courtesy of the snow beginning to fall at a heavy rate. “Snow’s moving in, I’ll need to get the firewood in before I help you, doll,” he said, graciously accepting the mug and placing a gentle kiss to the top of Johnny’s head. The warmth seeped into his fingertips, a gracious relief from the growing numbness.

“Aye, I’ll head out, ye get warmed up a bit. Cannae have ye freezing to death on me… leaving me behind with Old Man, Casper, and Bubbles…” As if on cue the scrapy old shelter cat came slinking down the hallway, happy to settle himself between Simon’s legs.

“Impossible, you wouldn’t survive a day cooped up with em’ all. We can barely keep Old Man out of the fish tank as is,” Simon chuckled, leaning down to scoop Old Man up in one arm. “Isn’t that right, Cap?” The old cat bristled at the sudden change in elevation, taking a languid swing at Simon’s head.

“Just like Price,” Johnny laughed, moving towards the door to pull his boots on. “Shouldnae take me too long, stay here and get warmed up.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer, love.” As Simon moved to the oversized armchair in the living room, Old Man followed, happily settling into Simon’s lap once he was comfortable.

And if the sight of Johnny ditching his sweatshirt after a few visits to the woodpile, broad tan chest glistening with sweat despite the crisp edge to the air, warmed him up more than the tea, then that was his business.

-----

“Ah think we just need our winter gear… oh, and the sleepin’ bags in case the power goes out!” Johnny was standing at the foot of the ladder, supposedly helping Simon get the winter kits out. Really, he was staring at Simon’s ass more than he was doing any real helping.

Simon reached for the bin containing their old white camos, flexing a little extra for his lover as he did. “Grab this for me, Johnny?” Simon passed the bin down single-handedly, rolling his right shoulder to ease the ache afterward. It had never quite recovered after the mission that pushed them both to retire.

It wasn’t something either of them looked back on with any fondness– a source of nightmares and panic attacks for both boys long after returning home. An op gone wrong, courtesy of bad intel, put Johnny in the hospital for 3 weeks in a coma and left Simon with nerve damage in his right arm. It was then that they both put in for retirement, realizing just how much they had to lose now that they had each other.

This time, Simon reached out with his left arm, grasping at bundles of fabric that had been pushed to the back of the shelf. The silky material slid across his fingertips as he struggled to find purchase on one of the straps they were tied up with. With a final stretch, he got a good grip, hauling them towards the front of the shelf.

The slight hyperextension of his shoulder was enough to aggravate the old wound, the muscle spasming in response. All at once, the sleeping bags fell from the shelf and his grip on the ladder gave out, sending him tumbling to the floor.

“Simon!” In a flash Johnny had ditched the box, sliding next to Simon. Thankfully, the Brit had landed on top of the sleeping bags. He was silent for a moment before a bright grin stretched across his face, accompanied by his deep laugh.

“Wha-” Johnny was quickly cut off, Simon’s strong hands guiding him to rest in his lap.

“I’m okay, doll… maybe just a little bruised up,” Simon’s honey-brown eyes sparkled in the dim light of the closet, locked on the still bewildered face of his lover. Calloused hands reached up to cup Johnny’s face. “You okay?”

“Bloody hell… ye scared the piss outta me, Simon Riley!” Though Johnny’s tone was scolding, he couldn’t hide the smile threatening to take over his features.

“Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, now that you’re old and retired.” There was a sly grin on Simon’s face as he gave Johnny’s hips a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, piss off!” Johnny grumbled, pushing himself off of Simon’s lap before offering the Brit a hand up. Johnny collected the discarded bin as Simon gathered up the sleeping bags, both heading back towards the living room. “Besides, ye cannae say I’m the old one when ye cannae even stand on a ladder.”

Simon took the opportunity to toss one of the sleeping bags at the Scot, grinning as it bounced off his back. Johnny stumbled forward. “Hey!”

“Don’t look at me– it was Bubbles and Casper!” Simon fluttered his lashes and gave a soft, innocent smile, shrugging towards the fish tank as he tossed the other sleeping bag onto the couch.

“Bubbles and Casper, my arse,” Johnny grumbled, tossing the other sleeping bag to the couch.

-----

Johnny pulled the last few blankets from the dryer, having taken the opportunity to finally give them a good wash, and brought them to the living room. A bright laugh was ripped from his lips as he watched Simon struggle to manage the guest mattress by himself, eventually settling to drop it on the floor and push it the rest of the way. They planned to spend the evening snuggled up in front of the fire, just in case they did lose power.

“Ye could've asked if ye needed a hand, love,” Johnny teased, tossing the stack of warm blankets onto the mattress, now situated in front of the roaring fireplace. Simon threw himself into the warm pile without hesitation, immediately snuggling up like a cat.

“Thanks, Johnny, have a good night!” He pulled his favorite blanket from the pile, tucking it up under his chin.

“Oh no ye don’t! Ye promised we’d go outside and make snowmen!” Johnny pounced on the mattress, swiping the blanket away and grabbing Simon's chin, tilting his face upwards to look him in the eye. “Unless ye lied to me, Simon Riley…”

“Lie? To you? I would never, I’m offended you’d even think that.” Quickly, Simon leaned up, capturing Johnny’s lips in a soft kiss. He then reached down to give Johnny a quick smack on his ass. “Go grab our jackets from the bin, I’ll grab your boots.”

“On it, sir!” Johnny gave him a quick kiss in return before heading to collect their coats.

In no time, the boys were bundled up, donning their old insulated jackets, the white and grey camo pattern worn away in a few spots from the years of good use.

Simon kneeled down to tie Johnny’s boots, wordlessly grabbing his leg and placing the Scot’s foot on his thigh. Fingers slipped into a familiar rhythm, weaving the lace through the last few hooks before pulling tight, a sturdy knot securing it all in place.

Johnny watched, a faint blush creeping up his neck, still amazed to see this side of Simon. The side that was always taking care of him, putting him first– one of the thousands of reasons he loved the man before him.

The Scot was out the door first, practically vibrating out of his skin as he waited at the top of the stairs for Simon. Simon had seen Johnny excited plenty of times, but this was different– more innocent, more childlike– and Simon couldn’t get enough. The way Johnny’s smile stretched all the way to his eyes, alight with pure, unbridled joy. The way he had planned everything out from the moment they got the weather warning.

The Brit tugged on his coat, the weight settling firmly on his shoulders, a remnant of their past life. “Down boy, I’m right here,” Simon chuckled, slotting his hand into Johnny’s as the Scot immediately started down the stairs.

In an instant, Johnny’s foot slipped out from beneath him, his grasp on Simon desperately tightening. Instead of being hauled upright as he had hoped, Simon unwillingly joined him on his downward trajectory. A heap of tangled limbs and snow was how the boys found themselves at the bottom of the stairs.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Simon carefully flexed his hips, trying to stretch out the muscle. “You solid, beautiful?” His voice was low and he reached for Johnny, hand making contact with his shin. Somehow Johnny ended up splayed halfway on top of Simon, his head cradled between the Brit’s shins. Neither boy was injured enough to be worried over, just bruises and scrapes reminiscent of their time in the 141.

“Aye, I’m alright,” Johnny pushed himself off Simon, misjudging the amount of snow and landing face-first in the powder. “Steamin’ bloody jesus!” he sputtered, rolling onto his back and wiping his face.

Simon hauled himself up into a sitting position, forearms resting on knees as he watched Johnny start to squirm in the snow. “Love… did you hit your head on the way down?”

“Awa' an bile yer heid!” Johnny laughed. “‘I’m makin’ a bloody snow angel!” Simon blushed as he finally saw it properly, chuckling to himself.

“C’mon, let’s get you up before you catch a cold and I have to care for you for two weeks.” Simon pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand for Johnny.

“Caring for me…? Does that include ye in a little nurse’s uniform?” Johnny waggled his eyebrows at the continuously flushing Brit.

“That’s enough!” Simon laughed, somehow turning an even deeper shade of red, and leaned down to haul the Scot up and place him firmly on his feet.

“So that’s a no on wearing a skirt for me?” Johnny fluttered his lashes as he gave Simon his best puppy dog eyes.

Simon hesitated as he brushed the snow off his pants, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. Johnny would have to be blind to not notice Simon's hesitance combined with the way the blush had completely overtaken him. Couldn’t help but imagine the way his pale blushing skin would look in lacey white fabric, cute red ribbons, a short skirt… “That’s not a no!” Johnny exclaimed, cutting his own thoughts off, stumbling a little as he laughed.

Both boys set to creating their snow sculptures, occasionally lobbing a snowball at the other.

“Si!” Johnny was beaming as he stepped aside, revealing a rather proper-looking snowman, three round globes of snow piled high, blue scarf wrapped around its neck, rocks making up its face, complete with a snow baseball cap.

“Is that… is that Gaz…?”

A deep laugh erupts from Simon’s chest as Johnny proudly nods.

“Aye, it is! What did ye make, love?” The Scot moved closer to Simon, trying to understand what the boxy form before him was. There was a series of wide rectangles stacked one atop the other, a small downed branch poking out the shorter side of the stack of the rectangles.

“It's a uh… I made a tank. Figure you wanna use a ground assault this time instead of demolitions though…” Before the Brit had even finished his joke, Johnny was launching himself through the air, directly on top of the pile of snow. He landed with a puff of snow up into the air, legs dangling out of what was once the side of the tank.

With a huff and shrug of his shoulders, Simon joined Johnny in the snow, a hand planted on either side of his face, leaning over him. He took a moment to admire Johnny, the flush to his cheeks, the sparkle in his eyes, his bright laugh, the little white flecks of snow on his lashes, everything he had ever dreamed of and more. Simon pulled his glove off with his teeth, gently cupping Johnny’s face.

“You know how much I love you, Johnny?” His voice was soft, breath condensing in the air with each word.

“Aye, ah think ah do, but I’ll never say no to hearing it again…” Simon’s hand felt so soft on his face, despite the callouses and years of scaring, it was one of his favorite things.

“I love you more than the moon loves the sun, Johnny. I love you more than the waves love the shore… I love you more than I love breathing, John MacTavish. I will ‘till the day I die.” He leaned down, lips slotting perfectly against the Scot’s. Soft and sweet and filled with so much love it made Johnny’s heart feel like it was about to burst.

“Ah love you so damn much, Simon Riley.” He eagerly reciprocated, hands wrapping around Simon’s waist, sliding down past his hips, resting with a firm grip on his ass, pulling him closer.

By the time they untangled themselves from each other’s arms, neither man could deny the cold was starting to get to them. Simon’s fingers started to feel more than just the regular level of icyness for this time of year. Johnny slipped his arm around Simon’s waist, attempting to take some of the weight off his bad knee– the slip down the stairs seemed to have taken more of a toll than he first realized.

“I’ve got you, doll.” Simon slipped his arm around Johnny, basically shouldering all of the smaller man’s weight as they all but hobbled up the stairs.

“We make a right lousy pair, don’t we?” Johnny chuckled as Simon pushed the front door open.

“Are you calling me lousy? I’m wounded!” Simon feigned a hurt expression, his hand dramatically over his heart. As had become routine for the pair, Simon kneeled down, fingers deftly undoing Johnny’s laces before undoing his own. The old well-worn boots were discarded by the door, snow-covered jackets were tossed over hooks on the wall.

“Wounded and dramatic as ever, Lt. Ahm going to make some hot chocolate, should I add bourbon in yers, love?” Johnny was already halfway into the kitchen, making a mental note to stop at the pantry to grab the brown sugar, chocolate, and cocoa powder.

“Fuck yes, doll,” the Brit called out, peeling off towards the living room and swiping his lighter from the table near the entryway as he went. He set to making up the mattress, Johnny’s favorite sheets under layers upon layers of soft blankets. One of Johnny’s favorite candles was lit and Simon slipped off to the bedroom to grab his book and the Scot’s sketchbook.

By the time Simon made it to the kitchen, Johnny was leaning over an old, dusty cookbook, spatula in hand as milk heated on the stove. The Brit threaded his arms around Johnny’s waist, resting his chin on the Scot’s shoulder.

“Hey… you didn’t tell me you got the good chocolate…” Simon placed a gentle kiss below Johnny’s ear, hand sneaking forward towards the cutting board.

“Oh no ye don’t!” Johnny exclaimed, smacking the back of Simon’s hand with the spatula. “That chocolate was damn near 30 pounds and ye will not touch any!”

“Selfish bastard,” Simon grumbled, placing his hand back around Johnny’s waist.

“If ye cannae behave then ye can get gone from here!” The Brit smirked at Johnny’s challenge, an opportunity to get back at the Scot’s teasing about a nurse’s uniform. He let his cold fingertips slip beneath the warm material of Johnny’s shirt, beginning to trace delicate patterns into his skin.

“I can be good for you, promise,” Simon whispered in Johnny’s ear, lips just barely grazing the sensitive skin. Simon could feel the shiver that ran down Johnny’s spine.

“Simon…” A breathless moan escaped Johnny’s lips, and he had to press one hand into the counter to hold himself up on suddenly shaky legs.

“Hmm…? Something wrong, doll?” Simon’s voice had dropped deeper, rumbling through Johnny’s chest. He let a hand wander down the front of Johnny’s thigh, squeezing the firm muscle.

“You… Please, Si… cannae focus like this…” Johnny tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, desperately trying to contain another moan and focus on the recipe in front of him.

“Oh, but I think you can, doll. Used to be able to handle all that flirting in the field… don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on me…” his lips traced down Johnny’s neck, settling in the crook, teeth scraping along sensitive skin, lips living behind a light pink mark.

“We… Later Si… Ah– ah swear, please…” The Scot’s head dropped back onto Simon’s chest as his knees went weak, neck fully exposed as Simon held him up.

Simon smirked and nipped at his neck again, one hand sliding up to grasp Johnny’s chin, guiding him to refocus on the stove, “Focus, beautiful.” In a flash Simon had disappeared from behind the Scot, seating himself at the bar with his book already open in front of him. “Be a good boy, Johnny.”

Johnny gripped the counter, knuckles white, taking a few steadying breaths. He glared back at Simon for a moment before resuming his task of following his gran’s hot chocolate recipe. He could occasionally feel the weight of Simon’s stare, particularly on his ass as he worked.

After a few minutes of silence, Simon looked up as a steaming mug slid into his peripheral. “Yer favorite bourbon in it, like ye like,” Johnny kissed Simon’s cheek as he headed towards the living room, his own steaming mug cradled in his grasp.

Johnny couldn’t help the soft blush that spread across his cheeks when he noticed the way Simon had prepared the living room. The mattress was piled high with blankets, a roaring fire and his favorite candle filling the entire space with warmth. Old Man was curled up in the armchair, halfway sitting on top of his sketchbook.

Johnny lowered himself down onto the mattress, setting his mug on the coffee table Simon had moved to the side. “C’mon handsome, yer not gonna leave me all alone here, are ye?”

Simon chuckled and shook his head, mirroring Johnny's movements from mere moments before. Johnny tugged the Brit closer, smiling as he rested his head on his chest. “As much as ‘m not a fan of the cold, I wish we got snow like this a little more often…”

“Aye, would be nice. ‘Specially if it meant getting to keep ye all bundled up and wrapped up in my arms like this more…” Johnny placed a soft kiss on the top of Simon’s head, pulling him ever so slightly closer.

Simon hummed, tucking his head into Johnny’s chest, relishing in the warmth of their bodies together. Johnny had become his safe space, his anchor. No matter how good or bad the day was, Johnny was there. The last time Simon felt this loved was when he was young, wrapped up in his mother’s arms. Johnny was there, every nightmare or panic attack, he was there, holding him tight, holding him together. No matter how much Simon fucked up, Johnny was there. He hoped Johnny knew that Simon would burn the world down if he asked, and would stop at nothing to take care of him.

Johnny carded his fingers through Simon’s hair, eyes tracing over the sharp features of his face. He knew he was lucky to get to see and know this side of Simon– he thanked whoever was above everyday for the opportunity. The man so soft and sweet in his arms had come so far from who he was when they first met. He had worked so hard and Johnny was more proud than he knew how to express. Hoped Simon saw it in every cup of tea Johnny made for him, every candy bar he picked up on grocery runs, every forehead kiss. Hoped Simon knew how hard he was trying too, how much he cared and valued the trust he put in him. Hoped Simon knew how grateful he was for him too, the effortless way the Brit was able to hold him together like it was the easiest thing in the world.

They watched the snowfall for hours, big, fluffy white flakes pilling ever higher and higher. The fire roared on, keeping all 5 inhabitants of the Riley-MacTavish house plenty warm.

At some point, the boys slipped between blankets, soft kisses littered across flush skin, hands pulling bodies ever closer. And when the heat got too much between them, if they stripped down and carried on then that was between them and no one else.

[hellsite-folklore-archivist]

Your father gives you his best oilcloth coat, and your mother packs up enough salted fish to feed a small army. "Maybe your god will have a grand city temple," your father suggests, "with many priests and worshippers."

"Maybe," you say, quietly. The truth is that you wouldn't care if the temple was a hovel, as long as the god within was yours.

Your best friend hugs you tightly goodbye, scrubbing tears from her freckled cheeks. She gifts you a mother-of-pearl pendant she polished herself, strung on an old fishing-line. "Give it to your God, when you find them." You nod, shed a few tears of your own, then head off on your way.

You make slow progress, at first. You'd saved a little money, working at the Storm temple, but you still need to find work along the way. You follow trading carts inland, doing odd jobs: harvesting food and mending clothes. The further you go, the less Gods you recognize--but still, nobody recognizes the God's name written on your brow. At home, you might have been Godless, but you were sheltered and fiercely cared for; out here, you're on your own. You fight down the fear rising within you and press on.

And yet, you cannot help but be delighted by the beauty of each new corner of the world, the way it unfolds like the road before you. So many tiny details you'd never have known if you hadn't left home. Glow-worms that light your way in the lush valleys. Eagles that soar across wide, clear skies.

You meet kind strangers: people who'll tell you where to cross the river, which mountain paths to avoid; who'll hum and haw over your Godmark, knocking on doors and fetching a priest from the next town over just to be sure. And even when none of them can help you, they invite you to stay for a meal, and before you know it, it's a party. Gradually, some strangers become friends to you.

"In this world of great and little gods," one farmer tells you, "the quest for a deity is a noble one. And don't worry! If you can't find a God, you can always make your own. I've got a fallow field out the back; it might as well become a temple." She winks at you. "I can think of worse neighbors."

You end up staying with her for almost a month, and when you leave, it's with a warm glow of fondness that stays in your chest like banked coals.

So you go on and on, pushing further and further away from your home, learning a little of the local languages as you go, sending scrawled letters home by any traders headed for the ocean. You miss your friends, your parents; they burn like a beacon in your memories, but still you press forward, growing stronger as your body and mind become used to traveling.

Walk on, walk on. You can't turn back now.

And then, one late summer day, you come to a fertile land of olive trees and cypresses; you pass through a town and realize, with a jolt of excitement, that you recognize some of the letters from your god's name. On that sign, the arrowhead; over there, the sideways trident head.

You ask around in the market square, and a curly-haired young man selling apples taps his chin thoughtfully and fetches an elderly relative who's been playing cards with his friends in the shade of the Harvest God's temple. "I'm fairly sure there used to be a family with that name who owned some wheat fields not far from here," he says. "They were scattered by the war, but we still call that hillside by their name. Why don't you stay until this evening, when it's cooler, and we'll walk up? You can take a look around."

So you settle in for the day, pulling out some needlework to pass the time. You watch two children playing together nearby. They braid together the stems of the pink-and-white flowers that they gather by the handful from the verges. You remember the words of the old widow, and your excitement builds. Maybe, finally, this is it.

Then some adult calls to them across the square, and they rush off together, hand in hand. You look after them, the ties that bind you to your home pulling tight and aching in your chest.

"If this is just another dead end," you say to yourself, "I don't know how much further I can go." You feel like the tide, reaching up to its highest point; soon you will have to turn for the ocean.

At the end of the day, the apple seller and his old uncle fetch you a drink of water, and a crisp, freckled red apple from their stock. You think that you're not hungry, but as your teeth pierce its skin, you find you're ravenous. As you eat, you walk up out of the town, up to the rolling fields beyond. They once belonged to a sower and his sons, says the apple seller, but when War came, well, nobody survived to tend them. They've long since been divided up amongst the neighboring farms.

It's almost harvest, and the stems are tall and shimmering, moving like waves in the evening breeze.

In your home village, the temples are marked out by tall beacons. Their lights are visible out at sea, where sailors touch a hand to their Godmarks and think of home. You look around, hoping for a building, a pavilion, anything, but none appears. Disappointment lodges itself like a fish hook in your solar plexus. As the sun goes down, lavender skies over golden fields, you find yourself staring at your feet instead. Your shoes are worn almost threadbare. And for what? You should have stayed at home.

"Thank you," you say to the apple seller, whose old relative is starting to huff and lean heavily on his stick. "I'll stay up here for a little while."

Sensing your disappointment, he nods. "If you need somewhere to sleep tonight, we have space in our croft," he offers. You nod gratefully, and then watch as they make their careful way back down to the village, leaving you alone on the hillside.

You sit down heavily on the fallen trunk of some ancient dead tree. It's blackened as if struck by lightning. You let yourself cry, for a bit, and it soothes you.

You rest your forehead in your hands, gently feeling your Godmark. "I'm sorry," you whisper. "I'm sorry I couldn't find you."

Just as your sobs are subsiding, you feel a timid pat on your shoulder. One of the little children from earlier stands in front of you, his friend trailing him like a shadow. "Are you alright?" he asks, unsure of how to comfort an adult.

Drying your tears, you nod. "What are you two doing out here? It'll be dark soon."

"We came to get some flowers. They grow best around here."

"The pink ones you were braiding earlier? They're lovely."

His friend shyly holds out a wreath to you. It's messily braided, but still beautiful. "You can have this one."

You accept the wreath with heartfelt thanks, then point to the blooms still clutched in her small hand. "What about that one?"

"It's for the God up on the hill," says the boy, so casually.

You feel as if you've been struck by lightning.

"The God?" you say, trying to keep your voice light. It trembles regardless. "I didn't know that there was a temple in these fields. What sort of God lives there?"

The girl takes your hand and you get hastily to your feet, following her up a path so faint it's barely there; a suggestion, an indent of bent grass across the field. "This God? He's the god of apples," she says to you confidently, over her shoulder.

"No, he's the god of friends," the boy corrects her, from behind you.

"My sister told me he's god of fields and flowers, too."

"Isn't that the god of Harvest?"

"Actually, there are two gods," the girl interjects, as you stop to catch your breath at the top of the hill. "One's more friendly, the other's a bit shy. They're not used to visitors but as long as you leave them something or sit for a while in prayer they'll listen to you, which is more than the crummy Harvest God ever did for me, even though I have her Godmark."

You clasp your best friend's pendant in your hand. You're shaking. "I think I have something to offer Them."

The children step forwards first, and you follow, terrified, hopeful, barely breathing. At the very edge of the field, near the treeline, there is a little cairn, made of grey-blue stone. It's shaded by leaves, the first hint of autumn's yellow spreading through the green. When you left home, it was barely spring.

"We brought you flowers," the boy says, kneeling down in front of the cairn. He's addressing the God. Your God. "And someone new is here to meet you," he adds, stepping back so you can approach. "She came from a long way away so please be nice."

You kneel before the little cairn, and take off your pendant. As you do so, the hair is pulled from your forehead, revealing your Godmark. "I promised my friend I would give this to my God," you whisper into the stone. "What sort of God are you?"

There's a long silence. And then, comforting as the first step from a storm-tossed boat onto dry land, a voice speaks in your mind:

"I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. A promise brought you here, you say? I think we'll get along just fine."

And then, as salt water springs to your eyes, another voice speaks up. A low, ancient voice made of rustling leaves, of dawn frost, of fallen petals and freshly-tilled earth.

"Arepo," the God says with delight, "it seems that you have found your first priest."

Archived.

A mark on your forehead identifies the god you must worship to stay alive, usually by joining its local church or temple. Your mark is unknown, meaning an old, forgotten god sponsored you. To survive, you must either find an old temple to worship at, or do the arduous task of building a new one