#he can't stay away. give this man his own kids already it's his destiny

[speakofcompersion]

Minho's never-ending love for children 😖💕

[herstarburststories]

Beautiful Ghosts [p1]

A/N: HAPPY BDAY TO ME, YAY! The first chapter of this hopefully mini series is for @alleiradayne 's 1k celebration! Congrats, hon. A mix of angst and two kinds of comfort here. I gotta admit that I started working on this months ago and kept going until I was satisfied with how it was going. Hope you guys like this one! Divider by @talesmaniac89 !

Summary: Something as tribal as death wouldn't keep you away from Dean.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Prompt: I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise.

Characters: Dean and Sam Winchester, you

Rating: PG 13

Word count: 2404

As always, you are in Dean's arms when the two brothers enter the bunker after a hunt. There isn’t any sound to break the silence, no raucous laughter, or even a snarky comment about today’s slain monsters. Their steps are stronger than usual, and one breath is missing.

Of course, it’s different from your usual entrance. Your arms aren't tangled with Dean's and his aren’t wrapped around your waist or shoulders. You are in his arms, yes, but you are lying still in a state of lifeless despondency. To think, he was once hopeful, stupid enough to believe that he'd only be carrying you like this when he was marrying you. 

Sam is awfully quiet. He can think and organize a hundred words into speeches in his mind, but nothing comes out. The younger brother feels like a kid during a class presentation too worried to say the wrong word and receive the wrong reaction. Therefore, he chooses silence, just like the other Winchester. They both make room for the grief that way.

It's a silent agreement that you are gone for good. The spell used to bring Eileen back is no longer available, and there is no devil willing to make a pact — not that one would allow the others to do so, after all.

Dean still considers it. More than once, more than a million times between the drive back home when you laid in the backseat with your guts on the car's floor and putting your body on the couch with more tenderness he’d thought himself capable of. 

He would come back to hell just to save you, even if it meant not staying to see you thrive. The agony would be more bearable if he knew that for each scream of his, there would be a grin of yours.

He has no hope now. All Dean Winchester has is anger and unprocessed grief slowly metamorphosing into sadness, hate, and bloodthirst. Even when he killed the fucking werewolf right after he laid his teeth on you, it wasn’t enough. He needed to make someone hurt as much as he did.

It was supposed to be an easy hunt, but isn’t that life with this job? It's usually supposed to be a quick thing, and then you are choking your own blood like it's tequila.

“She is in a better place now.” Sam is the first to speak, utterly doubting that his brother would make a noise if he didn't first.

Sammy was always full of faith, but this time it made Dean furious. “You don't know that.”

“Dean.”

“Don't, Sammy. Don't even fucking try. You know who we are and what Billie thinks about us. Do you think (Y/N) won't get the same destiny as we will? Alone in the empty, going crazy for years, decades!?”

“We can find a way—“ 

“No, we can't! We all signed her death sentence the minute we asked her to move in. And she—“ Dean cuts himself off with the sharp knife of silence, staving any hope left with harsh thoughts. The living room is maybe the most similar it’s ever been to the old glory days now: men of letters used to get frustrated there all the time, usually with a bottle of whiskey and a dead body on the floor, full of holes from experiments. 

The eldest Winchester wants to scream, throw a chair, break a lamp. He’d do anything to get this heavy sensation out of his veins, as if every single drop of blood weighs 500 pounds.

Still, he doesn't fall on his knees.

An inconsistently wry smirk consumes Dean’s face, warped with grief. “I had to put her guts back in her body, you know? To carry her in the car.”

He lifts his hands. They are stained red. Sam purses his lips together, trying to find something to say that would have helped him when Jess died. Nothing but an annoying little voice saying time comes to mind. It's gonna be hard, but they will make it. They always do.

Sammy doesn't tell that to Dean, though. He isn't ready yet. And neither is Sam to vocalize the words.

We are gonna be okay because we always do. And the dead bodies end up like frightening memories and nothing else.

That would sound too cold, like most truths for hunters. If Sam says those words, it becomes real. Not even the bloodstained picture of murder is stronger than words of farewell. Besides, you were his best friend. He had to recompose and convince himself that everything would be okay before he helped Dean. For once, he had to be the brother who shut all the turmoil in to take care of the other

“I'm sorry, Dean.”

And then, Sam does the only thing that he could think of as useful for making the ache bearable. He hugs his big brother.

Dean struggles to get away from the hold, even with every fiber of his being screaming to remain there. “Let me go! Sam, I'm serious. Fucking let me go!”

“It's gonna be okay, Dean.”

“Let me go, Sammy! Now!”

“You are not alone, Dean. I'm here. She will be okay, too.”

“Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”

Until he finally gives in, collapsing in Sam's arms like that little kid in Kansas who didn't want to cry in front of his dad after seeing his mom get killed.

There is blood on Sammy’s favorite shirt now, but he doesn’t care. He just tightens his embrace around Dean while his brother is lost into racking sobs. 

His grief is just as expansive as Dean’s, their ragged souls laced with a sickening kind of sweetness that can only show up when someone you love needs help. It squirms and crawls in their guts to make a home that sticks. It’s their tiny comforts— the good feelings always show up in defiance of the ache like a plant growing on concrete. They just have to get the energy to look for them.

Everything is still the way you left it in Dean's bedroom. He didn't put your clothes away. You left your book on the shelf and kept your perfume in the wardrobe. Your pillow is still scrambled as if you had left for a couple of minutes to grab a cup of water and would soon come back to snuggle up to him. Well, it could always be from the fact that he's holding onto that piece of cotton for dear life. If he had long nails, his floor would be a complete mess now.

He's glaring at the wall, mind trying to come up with ways to cope with the growing ache in his whole body. Yes, the books and poets and films speak fondly about heartbreak, but he already threw the last glimpses of his bruised heart on the fire, burning with your body to the point no one could say it was ever in his chest to begin with. What could he do? There's always a way for the Winchesters. If Dean thinks hard enough, maybe he can defeat death. Maybe he can have you back.

Dean puts the pillow away after another sniff. The smell of your pepper shampoo is almost fading — he shouldn't have hugged it. Nonetheless, the green-eyed hunter focuses on coming up with ideas, and it's a stupid, humanly behavior when his mind goes to what desperate people usually seek.

Dean was never a pious man. The fact his mother died while angels were too busy watching over him to help her didn’t do it any good. Yet in stolen moments like these, he, like most humans, would bear his soul in a peace offering to all the holy things he doubted. The Winchester never prayed for himself, though. Who would answer his cry for help? He never deserved to be saved. So, he put his hands together and closed his eyes for who he cared about. As the Layla woman who told him to have faith or Sammy as something scandalous happened. It was rare, but Dean did that sometimes. He used to hope someone was listening. He doesn't pray anymore, not even now. Because he knows someone is listening, and he doesn't care.

Can an empty room seem crowded? Yes, when touch-starving grief is piled inside, begging to be seen. Why can't he allow himself to feel it? Why can't he cry? Why can't he just stop using anger as a comfort? Dean doesn't know. It used to be easier to cry before. He'd say he's lost his emotions, but the all-consuming anger and his ferocious barks to keep the hurt is burning proof he isn't yet.

Y/N died, and it's his fault. Y/N died, and it's his fault. Y/N died, and it's his fault.

His nostrils are opening, the wrath that swaths him as comfortable as his own skin. It’s not natural enough that he doesn't feel the burn, and you know he's going to break again. Your Dean doesn't break easily, but when he does, it's in a million little pieces that he wouldn't allow people to help pick them up. He’d rather shove them under the bed with his childhood monsters or bruising his hands as he exasperatedly tries to get them all by himself. You know he's going to shift into a storm and start breaking things. You know it's a temporary morphine, and the sickness will remain in the morning.

That's the incentive you need to try harder, to flash yourself into this plane of existence long enough to be seen. You force every fragment of yourself and light and whatever other pieces you are made of now to appear. To be heard. To show Dean he isn't all by himself again.

An image starts glitching in front of him. It’s rapid enough for Dean's reaction to come as a frown and his hand to snake around to the gun at the hem of his pants. 

And then, he blinks and a heart-stopping joy hits him. He can't believe the unbreakable heaven that he's being blessed with. Every feeling that should be burrowed under his skin is fighting to come to the light, and God, he wants to. For the first time, he doesn't want to hold back because what was trying to come together finally is you.

You. You are standing right before his own green eyes. There is a soft look on your face. It’s laced with that pretty smile that’s always spread happiness to him as well. You are here, standing in his room, clean clothes and blood in your veins. Guts inside your body! He never imagined he'd be happy to think that.

Is this his heart? Oh God, it is. And it's beating. No, no. It's racing. His heart is working again and now he almost falls on his knees. The pain was never able to break him, but he had forgotten how strong happiness could be. He's relieved.

Dean's eyes burn when he looks at you. Maybe it’s because he’s too shocked to even blink or perhaps it is all the tears that were flowing. Who cares? That man would allow his entire body to collapse in flames if the smoke signaled you back home. 

He takes a few steps, having the nerve to touch you — probably the most daring thing he has ever done. He is ready for you to dissipate, for that to be a dream, anything. And you don’t. You remain there. You don’t leave him too. Your usually warm body is gelid, but Dean doesn't care. It's an honest warning, yet he's happy to ignore those for once. You're here. 

“Dean, I—“ Your voice. It's your voice saying his name. He recognizes the importance of a name now. For a brief moment, he's confused. What the fuck is happening? You purse your lips and Dean chortles in dismay, unable to discern his inner state of being. “I don't know what to say.”

“I thought I had lost you. I was so fucking scared, Y/N. I thought you were gone for good.” He's found the words for you, exhibiting his vulnerability so quietly. Your entire soul feels it— it's not true what they say. You don't stop feeling when you are dead. You start to feel everything deeper because after leaving your meatsuit, all that is left is your soul. And what's a soul but the patchwork of emotions? “I thought you'd never come back again. That I'd have to go on without you. I'm so sorry. It was my fault. I should have saved you.”

“No, Dean. Don't start self-loathing and all that. It wasn't your fault. What happened to us could've happened to any hunter. And if it happened to me, there is a reason for it.”

“A reason for you to be ripped apart?” He scoffs at your belief of fate. You always had a graceful heart in you, even after you met Chuck. 

“I'm back, right? I told you I'd always be with you, and I'm here. Always.” You intertwine your fingers, and he watches your hands for a little while. While it’s difficult for him to grasp anything but pain nowadays, he accepts the rush of joy in his chest. Dean looks up, and you're still here, big eyes offering him a loving gaze. “I'm not going to leave you. You're never going to suffer by yourself again. I promise.”

He kisses you, and it feels like your emotions have finally found a perfect body to rest in when yours is a little bit tired — a place to call home. He kisses you, and everything is worth it. Because he kisses you. And you kiss him back.

Dean Winchester is a marvelous hunter. He should know that the cold his tongue experiences in your mouth while you two make out ferociously isn't quite right. You should feel fervid, and you are warm in every way of being but skin. He should pay attention to that. He should stop trying to make you come alive with love. Still, he can't bring his rational side to care. That man was always guided by emotion, anyway. What could matter more than you on his arms? Worries could be postponed because you did what no one else ever could.

You came back to him.

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[kawaiikatchi]

My Thoughts on Case 4 for Great Pretender (Part 1 of 2)

SPOILERS FOR CASE 4(EPISODES 15-23) PLEASE GO WATCH BEFORE READING

-------------------------------------------------------

For some reason, I have a very complicated relationship with Case 4. Whenever I think about it, it feels like two parts of myself are having a debate with one another, and I can't decide who is winning because they're both right.

Let's just start from the beginning. Keep in mind that I've only watched this chunk of episodes once, so this will be my honest first impressions of how I think the show concluded (does anyone know if we're getting a season 2???).

THE GREAT

To start off with a lot of the positives for this case, I LOVED the heart to heart moment that Edamura and Laurent had at the beginning. It felt very necessary, considering that it was rare that these two would sit down and talk about something serious. It was nice, even if you're not looking at it through a shipping lense like I am (yes, I ship Laurent and Edamame, and no I will not feel ashamed) that Laurent could give him advice considering that they both fell into becoming con artists because they had no real path in life. As we learn more about Laurent's backstory through this arc, it becomes a lot more obvious that Laurent sees a bit of his younger self in Edamura, but his comment about doing what Edamura thinks is right shows that Laurent, at least on some level, recognizes the fact that Edamura isn't Laurent, and he has the freedom to be whatever person he wants to be despite what the blonde confidence man may want for him.

I also enjoyed this case when it explored Edamura's charcter (even though it kinda came at the expense of Laurent's character, but we'll get there). He definitely has been through the most highs and lows (actually mostly lows) of the series, making his decent to the darkside all the more interesting. I wasn't all that worried that he would betray the team or die when it was time to put the last phases of their plan into motion, (heck, we had two boat scenes where four people in total seemingly "died" yet they all turned out to be alright) but I was definitely worried as to how all this was going to affect Edamura's mental state. Throughout the series he has repeatedly gotten the short end of the stick, attempting to make his own life decisions only to find out Laurent was one step ahead of him. Then in one of the most crucial moments of the show, Edamura's good deed unintentionally gets two of his closest allies killed, making him go into a murderous rage and killing his own father. At least, that's what it looked like on the surface. Until he finds out that that too was a part of Laurent's plan, and once again it seems as if nothing Edamura does will ever be of his own free will. There is one line in particular that kinda hits different after now finishing the show, and it's what Edamura says to his father after finding out the truth of what's been going on behind the scenes.

"Everything Laurent had me do until now was a practice run for this, wasn't it?....I'll do it...Just like I'm told." (Episode 21)

At this point in the story, Edamura has completely given up control of his own life. He tried at one point to write his own destiny, but it got people hurt in the process. Even hearing the fact that the deaths were staged just reaffirmed the idea in his mind that nothing he ever does will truly mean anything. It's all just a game where someone else will always be the one pulling the strings. I think this is also one of the main reasons he stayed so close to Akemi Suzaku. He knew that all he could do is play the part they told him to play, because he had no more fight left to go against it. That and they'd probably kill him if he tried to leave again, and he may or may not have viewed her as a mother figure after his mother passed away. In the case of switching sides and betraying Suzaku Akemi, his life wouldn't really be that much different than what it already was. Sure he wouldn't be helping with illegal trafficking anymore, but he'd still be following someone else's plan for his life. It would just be a matter of which plan he's going to follow, Laurent's or Akemi's. Either way, he loses.

This is when I think the advice that Laurent gave Edamura at the beginning is the most applicable (funny how Laurent was giving him the solution to the problem that he started without even realizing it). The advice from earlier is also emphasized to a higher degree by Abby when she says:

"You're no longer trapped by gravity. Malice, envy...You can be free from everything. That's what you said. Who you decieve or betray is totally up to you. Do what you like. Just...forgive yourself. That's what saved me." (Episode 23)

This speech that Abby gives to Edamura is perfect in every sense of the word. Instead of saying something like "hey you better not betray us", she communicates to Edamura very eloquently that the problem isn't whether or not he'll betray Akemi, Laurent, Abby or Cynthia, but rather if he will choose to keep betraying himself. Will he keep giving up what he wants for the sake of others? He needs to decide that on his own, and once he finds his answer he needs to forgive himself.

At first glance, I thought "well Makoto ends up contributing to the success of Laurent's scheme, so what's the difference this time?" The difference: Makoto is in the perfect position to betray Laurent, plus he has every reason to do so, but he doesn't. Because that's not who he is. He's not Laurent. He's not his father. He's not Akemi. He's Makoto Edamura. For probably the first time in the series, Edamura is able to make Laurent follow his plan instead of the other way around, outsmarting him and showing everyone that he is the only one in charge of his destiny. He's not helping with the con for his allies, Akemi or Ozaki. He's doing it for himself.

Changing subjects completely to another thing that I liked about episodes 15-23, is that I did enjoy what we did get of Laurent's development. Despite the fact that later in my review, I'm gonna kinda complain about Laurent's story (more of just from a story structure perspective), Great Pretender KNOWS how to make a charcter's backstory engaging. They also seem well equipped to write romances, as I thought that Laurent and Dorothy had some definitive cute moments together. It was intriguing to see how the ever confident Laurent got his start as well, and how he grew to become who he is today. In addition to that, I loved how the show was able to bring us back to the first episode by showing the important events that led up to it (especially how Laurent met Abby and Cynthia). For some reason, I'm a sucker for when shows try to pull the "remember when it all began" nostalgia card for their own show. Very well executed.

Finally, the last great thing that I'll mention about the Great Pretender finale, was the ending. I wasn't sure how I felt about it upon first viewing, but after some deliberation, it just makes sense. The group ends up going their separate ways while still staying somewhat connected. Abby looks like she's become a bit of a traveler, while Edamura is journeying to taste a bunch of different coffee (fitting). Cynthia is taking care of a kid named Kawin, who looks like he might be considering becoming an artist (Cynthia will always be surrounded by artistic people, she has no choice lol), and Laurent is working for the president of the United States I guess???? All of these life decisions are just believable enough for me to buy it, so I won't complain. I guess I just have a bit of bittersweet emotions towards the ending, since the characters seem so content with where they are now, but I was kinda hoping for a another season of their shenanigans. I really need to stop getting attached to shows right before they are about to end. However, if this was truly the end of the Great Pretender series, I'm glad it ended in the way that it did. I feel conned.

Next time: the not so good, but still decent things about Great Pretender Case 4.

(Continued in Part 2 of 2 (Coming Soon))

[becumsh]

Hi :-) I don't know if you're still there for Trevilieu prompts, but I have one and. I want pain. Because the kids in camp play about five songs on loop and one of them is Happier by Ed Sheeran and I can't get it out of my head anymore. I want a story from Richelieu's POV after they broke up for real, no chances getting back together, and Treville actually manages to move on really well and Richelieu sees him somewhere and realises he has really, truly lost him and that Treville is happy. PAIIIN

This is so sad, Alexa please play Adele on repeat.

Oh, @lustigs-maerchenland, I’m so sorry to disappoint you :/ I suck at this promptingthing because I never do what people ask xD. I’m always here for Trevilieu prompts,but I’m afraid I can’t fill yours. I don’t think with all this baggage thesetwo can ever really move on from each other, this universe or the next. Ambiguous open ending though? This is my speciality.

Richelieu was the one to end things.

It was easier than Richelieu thought to avoid each other for that long. Trevillewas away fighting and climbing up the ranks. He himself was busy with the stateaffairs.

They had been doing it for long enough to call it a somewhat permanentfixture in each other’s lives. Richelieu’s political career was flourishing; hemade himself essential to the King. After the exile he held no hopes of evermaking a return, but he did, more powerful than before, hungry for more. Hungryfor seeing France at the helm of Europe, himself at the helm of France.

“This will burn you,” Treville said then. Richelieu replied, fervently,with agitation in his eyes, that it would be worth it. And then, much later, hewas burning up in Treville’s arms and under his kisses, making up with passionfor the brevity of their meetings.

The relationship with Treville was permanent in his life. Other thingsbecame permanent. Things like danger. Death threats. Assassination attempts.

“You should be careful,” Treville warned him then.

“I have everything under my control,” Richelieu brushed off. Noteverything can ever be in control, Treville shook his head and picked up hisdoublet. The dawn was breaking, and Treville had to sneak off to the garrisonbefore sunrise.

Richelieu raised his eyebrow in challenge, and Treville laughed, thedeep and throaty chuckle of his that always made Richelieu’s mouth dry. People,he said, people and your own feelings are always out of your control.

“That’s ridiculous,” Richelieu said then. He had been ambitious and arrogant,he still was to this day, but at least nowadays he had far more reasons to be. Back thenhe had little ground to stand on. “You never even attempt to go into politicsif you can’t control your emotions.”

“You can make people do things, you can’t make people feel them though,”Treville pointed out. “Sometimes you just have to feel helpless and at mercy ofothers.”

Richelieu disagreed, but Treville was already leaving, and he couldn’tafford arguing when he could steal one last biting kiss.

Richelieu had made himself essential to the state business. He hadinfluence, he had power. He couldn’t afford things being out of his control,when the well-oiled machine of France was on the cusp of fulfilling its destinyto dominate Europe.

The thing between Treville and him, it wasn’t meant to last that long.Nothing is so long-lasting in that wretched and dark world Richelieu willinglydedicated his life to.

He was the one to end things because he thought it would hurt less thatway. He quietly hoped Treville would be strong enough to stop him and faithful enough to stay, but Treville nodded and left as suddenly as he’d appeared in Richelieu’s life.

He was the one to stand like a fool in Louvre, pretending to be politelydisinterested and genuinely surprised.

“Cardinal,I’d like you to introduce you to my new Captain of the King’s Musketeers.”

“Captain.” Richelieu squared his shoulders imperceptibly. He knew he cut an impressive figure already, it was his job, after all, to intimidate people, but in this case it was more for his own peace of mind. Into the battle.

“Your Eminence,” Treville touched the brim of his hat. Richelieu looked everywhere but his face, carefully impassive, unmoving and perfectly still. Controlling your body language is easy. Eyes, the traitors, were another thing entirely, and Richelieu couldn’t afford exposing himself like that, not when he’d got that far.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted! You will work together often, after all,” Louis left, oblivious and puerile.

At least some things didn’t change.

“I thing congratulations are in order,” broke the silence Richelieu, painfully aware that the hall was acutely deserted of the courtiers for Louvre standards.

“Thank you.” Treville stood there, in the heart of the King’s residence, tall and proud, filling the space with his presence. Unnoticeable at first, once gone, its absence was tangeable.

“I’m happy for you,” Richelieu offered.

“You’re lying,” said Treville simply.

“That’s not your business anymore,” it had been quite some time, and Richelieu hadn’t spent it unwisely.

“No, it’s not. But you can’t control people,” shrugged Treville carelessly.

Richelieu smiled, unpleasant and unnerving smile that made everyone who saw it cower.

“You’ll find that this is exactly my daily job, Captain.”

Everyone but Treville.

“Well,” Trevile’s fingers twitched around the hilt of his sword. “It is all you aspired to, Cardinal.”

He aspired to greatness, but there were other things he genuinely wanted.

“Sometimes you have to compromise and give up one thing for another,” answered Richelieu. “Collateral damage.”

“Indeed,” nodded Treville thoughtfully.

“If you think that these choices are light, you are mistaken.”

Treville returned Richelieu’s smile, twice as unnerving.

“I don’t think about it anymore.”

“Did you?” Richelieu asked quickly.

“I think it’s neither here nor there,” Treville gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, very aware of the emptiness around them. “No longer than you did, I suppose.”

“I do.”

The confession was quiet and brittle, like a faint breath of spring breeze on harried cheek. It was gone before Richelieu had realised it was there.

“I didn’t want the fond memories to be tainted by things that have to be done,” continued Richelieu quietly. “When the wound festers, it’s better to cauterise it before the disease spreads.”

He had thought about it. He still did, in that absent and theoretical way of what-if’s and never-would-be’s.

“It’s interesting you think it was a disease,” Treville finally said, seemingly unpertrubed by probably the most genuine words Richelieu had said in years. “And it’s interesting how you still think that you know what other people might feel.”

Richelieu stomped the urge to move his hands and settled on feeling the fabric of his red robe at his sides.

“As you said, Captain,” he finally dared to look Treville into the eyes. “It is neither here nor there.”

He didn’t last long, of course. But he lasted longer, than he’d originally anticipated.

“Again, I offer you my congratulations,” finally said Richelieu, looking away. “You seem very happy in your position, I can’t wish anything more for such an accomplished man as you, Captain Treville.”

It would be so easy just to ask, how have you been. But Richelieu had been playin the role of a heartless bastard for so long, he wasn’t sure he had been someone else than that.

He really wanted to know how Treville had been.

The thing between Treville and him, it was never meant to last. Richelieu doubted Treville was all that bothered about it.

God knows, how Richelieu wanted it to last.

“I should be going,” Treville looked around for an exit. “New regiment, new men. I’ll see you around.”

“Of course,” Richelieu nodded understandingly. “Good day, Captain,”

“You should sleep more,” Treville noted on his way out.

“You needn’t worry about me.”

“As I have always been saying,” there was a minute pause in his step, but he continued to walk away steadily. “You can’t control what other people feel.”

“Besides,” added Treville, “we will work together often, after all.”

[undeservedfavor]

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The Bucketlist

Mini-Series of Short Stories

St. Valentines Day [EN]: Chapter 2

Gisela almost jumped and screamed at the sight.

"Who are you?! What are you doing in my room, here in my bed?! What did you do to me?! Why can't I remember anything?!" She held her head due to headache.

"Don't scream, they might think that I'm doing something to you." He said.

"To a loser you shouldn't give a damn about... Yes, you already did something!" She tried to sit up but she did not succeed with her attempt.

She winced because of the pain she felt down there, tingling on her sensitive part.

He held her close and rubbed her back.

Like he's trying to calm her as she breathes in and out.

"Shh... That's it. Breathe. Tsk. Don't move so harshly, does it still hurt?" He asked.

She almost cried nodding to him.

"Can you stop breathing on my neck?! God. What a mess. So much for the freedom that I asked for." She uttered.

"We all search for freedom. Why do you look so sad? Tss, sorry, don't mind my question. I don't wanna intrude. By the way, nice place you got here. I haven't found a place yet, so I think I wanna stay here, even just for two or three weeks. You wouldn't mind, right? Since misery loves company, oh my bad, it's misery meets misery. Why do I get the feeling that we've met before?" The guy said.

"I don't even know you, you don't know me and what I'm going through! If you're gonna stay here, we have to set the boundaries and the rules." She reiterated.

"Shoot." He said.

"One, since I just bought this house and I'm struggling to survive the rest of my days on earth due to financial instability, you have to pay me rent. Two, no opening up or asking about 'too' personal details. Three, no more sexual activities with the landlady, last night was enough..." She stated.

"I think I can do number one and two, but I doubt that we both can resist number three, for we're still cuddling until now." He said and she moved away from him and covered her nudeness with the white blanket.

The man laughed a bit, which she found weirdly sexy.

When Gisela did not feel any pain anymore, she stood and wore her robe.

The man's smirking as he lit up a cigarette from the pocket of his jacket while his eyes are feasting on her features and curves.

She was about to enter the bathroom to clean herself up from the dried 'juices' stuck on her skin but she heard the doorbell rang from downstairs.

She walked downstairs and opened the door, she saw the old lady, Olivia...

"We're leaving for almost a month. I'm taking Larry to the city hospital which is really far from here, as the old man will prepare for his heart operation. We're taking our grandson with us, which means I will be leaving this beach to you. We're not locking it up unless it's night-time but... Can you look after it for us until we get back?" Old Olivia asked.

Gisela nodded.

"Yes, I'll pray for his speedy recovery. In this world, prayers are our sword for battle." She said and the old woman gave her the keys.

She went upstairs and she broke the news to the man who got her first.

"Who was that?" He was curious.

"The lady who sold me this house. Her entire family's going to tne city for almost a month. Which means, it's just you and me in this isolated island and damn life." She said.

"Which is good right, if you're in charge, we can do more public se-... S-sessions of swimming." The guy changed what he was about to say when the woman glared at him.

"You don't wanna be stuck with me in a place for a long time. No one does. I'm boring and worthless as hell." She said.

"I don't know, I find you exciting as hell. With that bod? There's no way that anyone doesn't wanna be stuck with you, I'd even probably prefer to be stuck in a manhole with you than not at all." She just rolled her eyes at his comment.

Then, she continued talking about the rules she thought just right about now.

Adding some things to it.

"As I was saying... Number four, you'll sleep on the couch downstairs and I sleep on my bed, here in my room. Don't dare to barge in here. This is not porn. Last and final rule, we don't have to know who we are." She said.

"I love the porn part but I was a bit confused on the last rule." She rolled her eyes at the hot naked guy on her bed.

"No names. We're gonna go separate ways anyway. You can call me Piggy and I can call you-...?" She said.

"Dinosaur. Don't look at me like that, isn't it obvious why based from what you just saw?" She glared at him.

"Kidding. I collect dinosaur figures back in the city. I'm a fan of Godzilla and Jurassic Park." She just nodded.

"Let's make it more exciting, if we found out each others' names, we part ways without a word. That's how pro one-night-standers do it." He said.

She shook her head smiling a little to him and entered the bathroom to shower.

Dorian followed her and she was shocked when he kissed her and lifted her to the bathtub...

Dorian opened the tap to fill it with water, he then poured soap in it and joined Gisela in a bubble bath as they do what they wanna finish doing...

They started living together.

The no sex rule was always being disobeyed by the male and the female was just letting him, like she had no choice for she also loved the relaxed feeling after the unexplainable and tiring skinship.

There was a time that when Dorian turned on the radio...

He heard his song played...

~I remember we were living like Kings and Queens

In the little tiny castle made of hopes and dreams

It was destiny

It was meant to be

We were so complete

The perfect team...

I always think about her (Aye)

Try to not overthink about her (Yeah)

I always dream about her (Uh, Uh)

Try not to dream about her (Oou)

I'm feeling so lost without her I try to come home

And it's so hard being out on my own

It breaks my heart to leave you alone

And that's all I get from you but I give my all to you

And that's all I hear from you

All dressed up nowhere to go

So I'm Dancing (Dancing)

On My Own

I've been waiting way too long (I don't want you dancing alone)

Dancing (Uh-huh)

On My Own

Play one more song (Play one more song)

Song (I'll be home)

Song But you're not coming (Yeah)

Song Song Song But you're not coming home

I told you I'll be home

I told you I'll be back (Play one more song 'til you g-...~

The song almost come to an end but Dorian turned it off when Gisela came out of the bathroom, because if Gisela, recognized his voice and knew who he was, it will be the end for them...

"Why have you turned it off? I was listening to the song... It's good..." She said.

"You know, you should re-think your taste when it comes to music." Dorian commented.

Gisela just shook her head, smiling.

They are getting to know each other more day by day but they still have not talked about why they ended up on the island...

On day, preparing brunch on the beach side, Piggy was sitting on the hammock while writing something on her notebook as Dinosaur is grilling fish for their meal.

Piggy was shocked as she heard a familiar voice alarmed.

"Ahhh!!!" Dinosaur winced in pain as he grabbed the neck of the snake who bit him and threw it on a far away bush.

He may not be showing it, but he's panicking.

Piggy ripped her skirt to get a piece of cloth and she tied a tight knot on the Dinosaur's ankle.

Piggy ran to the house and quickly came back with an alchohol, a clean knife, a roll of bandage and a cotton on her hands.

"I thought Dinosaurs are tougher than Pigs and Snakes. Then, why are you screaming like a girl? This is gonna hurt a bit but..." Piggy pierced the swollen wound.

Blurry liquid came out of his leg.

"Ahhh!!! Sh*t! Can you be more gentler as I was with you in bed?! Ouch!" He said shouting.

"Even your leg is filled with lust. It's wet and cumming. We're hopeless. You'll die in five minutes. Like me, alone, miserable and lonely." He glared at her for the comment.

"Kidding. Let the goner go, will you?" The woman said.

Dinosaur's eyes almost fell from it's sockets when Piggy put her mouth over the wound and sipped it thoroughly.

He almost drool over the sight.

Everytime her mouth is filled by the poison, she spits it out on the side.

When it was done, she cleaned the wound and replaced the cloth with a bandage.

"Where have you learned that?" The man asked.

"I was a nurse. A shitty one." She answered.

"Was. Why did you quit?" He asked.

"Can you stop being so nosy? Let the personal details go." The woman said she sat back on the hammock and continued to write on her notebook.

"What's that? I'm starting to get jealous with that notebook." He said.

She walked toward Dinosaur to ask for his opinion.

"Tell me what you think for a woman who's busy isolating and distancing herself from society?" She showed her writings to him.

"Without even reading this, I can say we're explicitly productive." The woman just glared at him for what he said.

Then, he read the book seriously.

"Writing strory scripts eh? This is good and intense but... I think it will suffice for the readers. Try to write about us next time. Is this why you quit? For the so called "Absolute Dream'?!" He overreacted his expression on the last sentence with his arm streched out high pointing at the sky.

"You talk a lot. How about you go back to the house and I'll bring the fish to you. And I thought I saw a Spiderwisp plant near our house's front yard. I'll go get some to treat the snakebite. Don't look at me like that... Unlike other things, just be thankful that it can be treated." She ordered the man.

Even if it's against his will, he just followed what she said...