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weasleylangs · 4 years ago

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bunny rabbits & a clover patch - g.w

Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Summary: All the times Y/N and George spent their days in the clover patch next to her house. Warnings: Minor character death (Y/N’s mother, it’s in the second paragraph), I guess a mention of the war but it’s like one or two lines and it’s super brief like blink and you’ll miss it. Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: A huge thank you to @whiz-bangs78 who sent me this ask for a made up title game that inspired his entire fic (although I changed the title a smidge)! Requests are open and constructive criticism is always appreciated! This is my new baby, my most favourite thing I’ve ever written so please be nice

Please let me know if you’re interested in being added to a tag list!

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Y/N is five years old when she moves from the bustling city of Bristol to the quaint, little magical village of Ottery St. Catchpole. She’s just now starting to get her magic, little spurts here and there. Recently she dropped a ball down the stairs of the townhouse she and her dad live in and she somehow levitated it for two seconds before it slammed into a mirror and broke it.

Y/N’s dad is a muggle, her mother was a witch and unfortunately passed shortly after she was born. Being a single dad is hard, and being the single dad to a witch when you’re a muggle is even harder, so her dad did the only logical thing he could think of.

He knew his late wife dreamed of raising Y/N surrounded by magic, to give her the childhood she never had. Y/N’s mother was an extremely gifted muggle-born witch and she wanted nothing more than to raise her children with magic in tow. So when Y/N started to exhibit magical symptoms, he reached out to some of his late wife’s friends to find the best magical village in England. If it was magic she wanted, it was magic she was going to get.

That’s how he ends up here, in a tiny cottage for two on the outskirts of the village.

He looks down at the piece of paper in his hand. It’s the address of the ‘nicest wizarding family you will ever meet’ and it turns out it’s the house on the plot of land next to his own. Scrawled in messy handwriting is the name Arthur and Molly Weasley.

He’d gotten the note from a friend, someone who works at the ministry with Arthur. He can’t provide a magical childhood for his daughter, but he hopes the lovely family that resides next to him in Ottery St. Catchpole can.

They’ve only just moved in when there’s a knock at the door. Y/N screams in excitement as her dad opens the door and she’s met with a pudgy looking woman with fiery red hair and two identically looking boys next to her. One of the boys is missing his two front teeth in the bottom row, grinning widely and the other boy is clinging to his mother’s leg, clearly more cautious than his exuberant sibling.

Y/N immediately decides they’re going to be her best friends. Even if boys have cooties and are sometimes gross.

“I’m Y/N!” she exclaims loudly, much to the dismay of her father who reminds her to use her inside voice. This makes her pout unhappily and in turn, makes the boy clinging to his mother’s leg smile.

“I’m George!” He replies, equally loud in fashion hoping to cheer the girl up. This was not George’s best idea, however, as it then causes the missing-toothed child to declare himself as Fred so loud, Molly and Y/N’s father sends them outside.

They sit themselves down on the clover patch to the right of the house and start getting to know each other. Y/N learns there're five other Weasley siblings, their youngest being their only sister named Ginny, she's a mere two years old and their oldest is William, who they both affectionately call Billy, and Y/N learns he's almost thirteen.

“Wow,” Y/N says, suddenly feeling extremely jealous. She’s an only child and while she’s only five, she has a child’s intuition that her dad isn’t ready to meet someone and bring more siblings into her life. “I’m jealous. I wish I had brothers and sisters.”

Fred puffs up his chest and grins, “We’ll be your brothers!” The grin on his face is 100% sincere and he looks so happy to gain another sister.

“Really?” Y/N questions looking at George for approval. “Of course. Are we best friends now?” He questions and Y/N eagerly nods her head.

The three of them spend their time playing tag or showing each other their ‘accidental magic’. Molly at one point calls out the window at the twins telling them they know better than to encourage underage magic but when George winks at Y/N as he somehow manages to turn her hair blue for two seconds it’s clear he doesn’t care about his mother’s warning.

“It’s okay,” he starts when he sees the look of fear rise in Y/N’s eyes, “we’re only five. If someone comes they’ll just see three magical kids and leave.”

Soon enough, Molly is muttering apologies about staying so late and trying to round up the boys to go back to their own home. Fred ends up in a tree, saying he wants to stay and poking his tongue out at his mother.

George however, is timidly looking at the clover patch they were all sitting in and plucks one, handing it to Y/N. When she examines it, she notices it’s almost a four-leaf clover, the stem is there if you look close enough, but the leaf itself is missing. “Almost luck, for you!”

He runs away at that, looking almost borderline shy and when Fred chases him all the way home, Y/N is convinced these boys will be her friends for life.

They’re eight now, and it’s a regular occurrence for Y/N and the twins to be seen together. Their parents have started referring to them as the ‘mischief trio’ because whenever the three of them are together, no one can turn their back for a second without something happening.

Y/N’s currently at The Burrow, convincing the twins to come to see her new pet bunny rabbits. Fred is reluctant, wanting to stay and play on his toy broom and trying to convince George he wants to do the same.

Fred, as usual, has an evil plan that involves the beater’s bat in their quidditch kit and Percy’s head after he told their mum that Fred was trying to fly Charlie’s broom yesterday. This resulted in Fred getting no dessert after dinner and the eight-year-old boy wants revenge.

“I don’t know, Freddie,” George starts, looking at the small girl to his left. They might only be children, but the twins are already growing taller and Y/N can barely keep up anymore, “I kind of want to meet the bunnies.”

“Come on, Georgie! Percy’s a prat and we need to get him back!” Fred dramatically exclaims as he flops his body onto the couch in the living room. As usual, it’s we, Y/N is always roped into the twins’ plans, and while she usually doesn’t mind, today isn’t the day for it. Fred never really knows when it’s time to be quiet, always wanting to be on the go and this pops an idea into Y/N’s head.

“Daddy got cows recently,” she begins and she notices how that immediately grabs Fred’s attention. He loves cows, whenever he’s in the car with Y/N and her father he points them out every time they see one, “you sure you don’t want to come to meet them?”

Fred is out the door quicker than you can say pranks, running towards the fence that divides their two properties. Y/N and George have to stop and tell Molly where they’re going because Fred left so hastily, that he didn’t even tell anyone before. After Molly sighs and gives them permission that the twins don't really care if they get, George grabs Y/N’s hand and runs out the door after his brother.

When they finally catch up to him, Fred's face is bright red from exertion, almost matching his hair and his eyes are bright and wide. Y/N’s dad only got two cows at first, testing the waters with how he’d feel looking after them but Fred is in absolute awe.

George pushes him over the fence as he’s laughing, telling him to hurry up so they can get out of the blasting summer sun. George and Y/N slowly make their way back over to the clover patch and Fred stays near the cows. He’s watching them shyly and Y/N thinks this is the only time he’s ever seen him calm and quiet- not wanting to scare the cows.

“This is Ruby,” Y/N says as she places the small, white rabbit on George’s lap. He looks nervous like he’s worried about dropping or squeezing the bunny rabbit too hard but when he settles, the bunny is content sitting in his lap.

“This is Cutiepie, I named him!” Y/N says proudly about the black bunny rabbit in her hands, “he’s my best friend.”

George looks up at Y/N at that and before he can say anything, Y/N is giggling, “Don’t look so worried, Georgie. You’ll always be my number one...” she pauses for a moment, and looks between Fred and the bunny rabbit in her hand before giggling, “just don’t tell Freddie.”

The two of them sit in comfortable silence, admiring the two bunnies as they eventually clamper down their laps and start hopping around. George is mesmerised- the only pets he’s ever had have been the chickens, an owl and the gnomes if you count them and he hopes Y/N will have him over every day to play with the bunnies. And hang out with her of course.

“Why did you want to come to hang out with the bunnies?” Y/N soon questions, curious as to why George chose the calmness over chaos. They both look over at Fred, who’s now bent at the knees looking like he’s going to run at a cow.

“I don’t know,” George shrugs, he didn’t know why he wanted to spend time sitting in one spot instead of pranking his older brother with Fred, “Bunnies are cool, I’ve never met a bunny before.”

Y/N hums in agreement, she thinks bunnies are the coolest pets someone could have and she’s glad George agrees. If George didn’t like bunnies, she thinks she’d have to demote him to number two best friend and while she loves Fred, she doesn’t want to do that.

It’s the day the three of them have been waiting for as long as they can remember. They’re on Platform 9 ¾, trying to get away from their parents and onto the train.

“I’ll miss you so much, sweetie,” her dad says, and Y/N thinks she might cry. She’s never been far away from her dad for long periods of time. The longest she’s ever been away from him was two days and even then, she was just at The Burrow.

But now she’s leaving for school and it’s all the way in Scotland, which to an 11-year-old moving away for magical boarding school, is forever away from her family. Tears well up in her eyes and her dad pulls her into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says pulling away and wiping the tears that have fallen from his daughter’s eyes, “your mother would be proud too. Now remember, stick with Percy and Charlie, Molly told me they’ll look after you.” Bill had graduated earlier in the year, leaving the 2nd and 3rd oldest Weasley brothers to mentor ‘mischief trio’ as they navigated Hogwarts.

“Please make sure the twins don’t get into too much trouble,” Molly says, pulling the small girl into a hug, but she knows it’s useless. Where Fred and George go, Y/N goes too and detention is included.

They eventually make it onto the train, Y/N noticing the tears in her dad’s eyes as he waves to her. They look around for a few moments, trying to find an empty compartment.

They eventually find one with just one boy in it who looks around their age. He’s got dreadlocks in his hair and he already looks bored. When he notices the doors open, he smiles widely and ushers the three of them to come sit with him.

“I’m Lee,” he introduces himself and after the introductions are done they find out he’s also in their year and convinced he’s going to be in Gryffindor.

“Us too!” The twins shout at the same time. Their entire family are in Gryffindor and while the Weasley’s are by no means a strict wizarding family, the twins would feel quite odd if they weren’t sorted into Gryffindor.

Y/N however, did not know what house she’d be sorted into. Her mother had been in Ravenclaw but she didn’t believe she had any of the Ravenclaw attributes. Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t notice George shuffling closer to her and tapping her gently.

“Are you okay?” He asks and Y/N nods her head, contemplating if she should express her worry to George. She knows it’s silly, but now she’s starting to get a bit worked up. Worried that after all these years, her and George will drift apart, especially if they’re in different houses and definitely if she’s in Slytherin. “Just worried. What if… What if we drift apart, Georgie?” she whispers.

George hates to admit he’s had the same worry and the look on Y/N’s face tells George this is the first time she’s even considered this and it’s killing him. He’s grown quite affectionate for Y/N over their six years of friendship. Molly and Y/N’s dad have jokingly asked when’s the wedding numerous times and while they both yell about cooties, George’s face gets the tiniest bit red every single time the joke is mentioned.

“I promise we won’t. Remember what I said the day we became friends? Best friends, and best friends are a forever kind of thing,” he promises, holding out his pinky for Y/N to wrap her own around and they stamp each other’s thumb with their own. Their way of promising each other.

“Remember, if you break the promise, Georgie, your thumb breaks,” she says with full sincerity and George remembers the one time he gave her this exact threat. She had cried for 20 minutes thinking that she’d accidentally made an Unbreakable Vow over getting ice-cream with him at Diagon Alley and poor nine-year-old George was forced into comforting Y/N and apologised profusely.

Fred and Lee are talking animatedly about quidditch (Fred can’t wait to be a beater and while Lee isn’t big on sports, he thinks he’d be a great commentator) when Y/N spots George rifling through his bag.

He pulls out a photograph and smiles as he looks down at it. It’s the last picture they took together before summer ended. Y/N’s dad took it on his muggle camera so it’s not moving, but George doesn’t mind. They’re smiling widely, bigger than they’ve ever smiled before and holding their wands they just got at Diagon Alley. They, of course, are standing in their clover patch, Y/N trying to hold the black bunny rabbit and wand at the same time and her dad clicked the capture button just as Cutiepie tried to jump out of Y/N’s arms.

It makes him laugh every time he looks at it, but seeing the worry still in Y/N’s brow, he thinks she needs the photo more than he does. “Here,” he says, nudging her briefly and handing her the photo. “When you’re worried we’re drifting, look at this and remember you’re stuck with me forever.”

Y/N’s eyes well with tears, this is the sweetest gesture anyone has ever done for her. “Thanks, Georgie. You’re stuck with me as well,” she says, tucking the picture into her robe pocket that rests over her heart.

Summer of ‘92 arrives fast and once again, Y/N spends most of her time at The Burrow causing mayhem. Today, her dad’s at work and while he 100% trusts his daughter to be home alone, he does not trust her best friends, so she waltzes over to The Burrow, walking in like she’s lived there her whole life, kisses Molly hello on the cheek and runs around, trying to find her boys.

It’s scorching, way too hot for summer in Devon and all the Weasley siblings who still live at home have decided to go swimming in the pond. They started playing Marco Polo until Fred started cheating by running outside of the pond so he wouldn’t get caught and then tried to play Chicken fight until Ginny fell off of George’s shoulders and almost hit her head.

Now, everyone’s calmed down and just relaxing. George and Y/N are cuddled up and floating around and it’s making her heart race. In the last year, her feelings for George have developed from platonic to romantic and being this close to him, while not unusual, is making her heart race. But it doesn’t last long, and soon enough Fred splashes them to get their attention.

“I’m tired and I need a nap, I’m going inside,” Fred says, eyeing his best friends. He’s had the assumption that something is going on with them for a while, and while he’d love to meddle, this is George and Y/N and there’s an unspoken rule between the three of them that involves not messing with each other.

So George and Y/N decide to get out of the pond and make their way over to Y/N’s house. They sit themselves down in their clover patch and quickly get the bunnies out. It’s a tradition at this point, and this is their spot. This is the place they tell each other everything, almost everything in Y/N’s case and the place nothing else matters but each other.

Cutiepie and Ruby are getting older now, but they’ve had babies and now there’s plenty of bunnies surrounding the pair of friends. George picks one of the babies up and nurses it, having gotten over his fear of squishing them long ago. He pulls faces at them that cause Y/N to laugh and George loves it.

He loves making her laugh.

“How weird is it that we had You-Know-Who on the back of Quirrell's head, teaching us all year?” George says. They both heard the stories first hand from Harry, Ron and Hermione. The school year they just finished being ridiculous for the three first years, but Y/N can’t help the anxious bubble forming in her throat.

“I’m scared, Georgie,” she says, turning to face him and the fear in her eyes is obvious, “We’re only young but whatever’s happening seems like it’s going to be happening fast now Harry’s at school.” She sniffles, and George thinks he’s put his foot in his mouth. So he does the only thing he knows how to do.

He shuffles closer to Y/N and wraps his arms around her, difficult because of the two bunnies in their laps but he makes it work. “I’m always going to protect you, don’t worry,” he says confidently. He doesn’t know how or when he’d need to protect her, but she must know just how much she means to him.

They sit in silence, just listening to each other breathing and patting the bunnies in their lap. The silence between them is always comfortable, nine years of friendship does that to you. But George is itching to ask something, ask something that could change everything. He’s noticed, recently, that while himself and Fred are at quidditch practice, Y/N and Lee are getting closer.

Sometimes, when Oliver sets quidditch practice on the weekends, Y/N and Lee go to Hogsmeade together and George wonders why he has an icky feeling in his stomach when he hears about their days when that happens.

“Can I ask you something?” George asks and there’s no backing out now. He has no plans to confess, not at age 14 when he doesn’t think he needs a relationship, but he needs to know or he might, as Fred would say dramatically, die. When Y/N hums in agreement and turns to remove herself from his arms, his heart starts beating faster and before he can even stop himself, he’s blurting out the question-

“Are you dating Lee?”

Y/N stares at him in shock, not entirely convinced he hasn’t picked up her feelings for him and then she laughs. She laughs hard. And George is so confused that he starts laughing as well.

“Me and Lee?” She questions between giggles, “There’s no way, he’s like,” she laughs again at the thought of her and Lee dating, “he’s like in love with Angelina. It’s ridiculous.”

George realises how dumb he sounds. Lee’s feelings for Angelina have been so obvious, especially when he decides to comment on how good-looking she is during matches now that he’s the quidditch commentator. But George always thought he was joking and from his perspective, it always seemed like Lee had a small thing for Y/N.

“Lee and I are a no go,” she says when George doesn’t say anything besides his awkward laughter, “I.. I think I like someone else, but I don’t know. I’m 14 for crying out loud,” she laughs, “I don’t know what love is.”

She’s lying, she’s 100% sure love is what she feels with George Weasley. The way she feels with the twins is different. Fred is chaos personified and she knows if she’s ever hurt, Fred will be the first person to go after whoever hurt her, no matter who it is. But George is comforting, like home-cooked meals and Molly’s sweaters personified and she’s sure this is what love is.

George pretends to agree, they’re both as clueless as each other in regards to their feelings. George knows what love is, and it’s what he feels for his best friend who’s sitting with him in their tiny clover patch.

Y/N’s heart is aching. She hasn’t seen the twins in weeks and without seeing George every day, her days are a little bit duller. She understands he’s been busy, after all, opening the most anticipated joke shop in Diagon Alley is bound to take up most of your time, but Y/N misses the days when she could yell for her best friend and he’d come running, no questions asked.

Y/N’s short term boyfriend has just broken up with her and she longs for the comfort she knows the lanky, 18-year-old ginger could give her. They weren’t together long and she knows she should never have tried to date someone while she thinks she’s still in love with George, but it still hurts.

So, she’s sitting in the clover patch as usual. She still lives at home, her father being accommodating while there’s a war raging in the Wizarding World and he understands it’s hard to get a job these days.

She always sits there when she needs the comfort of George and he’s nowhere near. Today is one of those days. Everything is building up and she needs him but she doesn’t want to be a bother. They owl back and forth most days and he’s always talking about how much work he has to do.

She’s been laying in the clover patch, their clover patch, for so long the sun is starting to set and when she sits up she sees him.

George doesn’t miss the red-rimmed eyes and the messy hair that’s covered in grass. He notices the confused look on her face and he picks up a clover and conjures it into a bouquet of wildflowers as he walks over to her.

“Hi, darling,” he says, sitting down and passing her the bouquet. Y/N is trying her hardest to pretend like her heart isn’t swooning but it is, and it’s all George’s fault. “Your dad owled me. Said you needed some George time,” he chuckles quietly and Y/N lets out a groan.

Of course, her dad decided to meddle.

“Hey, don’t stress,” George says as he sees the look of annoyance on her face, “I don’t mind. I told you I’m always here for you, didn’t I?” She hates that he’s right.

“You did,” she starts, “but you’ve been so busy. You don’t deserve to be forced into listening to my boy troubles.” She’s mocking herself now and George lightly pushes her and shakes his head. Anything upsetting Y/N is worth listening too and he’d listen to her drone on about a broken muggle device if it meant she wasn’t bottling her emotions up.

“Sean broke up with me, said I wasn’t in it enough for him, which…” She trails off, debating whether she should continue, “he wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t in it enough for him but it still sucks,” she mutters.

George is well aware she just got out of a relationship and he’s also well aware they’ve been friends, for now, thirteen years and if anything was going to happen between them, it would have happened by now. But he can’t help but feel the slightest bit happy when he hears they’ve broken up.

“Do you want to talk about why?” He enquires trying to be a good friend. Y/N falls flat on her back and sighs as she looks up at the sky above her, “I’ve been in love with the same person since I was 14 and I think I was trying to get over him? Or is that too specific?” she laughs but George knows she isn’t joking.

“Why… Why haven’t you told them?” He asks, hoping to all four founders of Hogwarts that Y/N is talking about him. She looks at him, a glint in her eye and she decides she needs answers. She needs to know if her feelings for George Weasley are ever going to be reciprocated or if she needs to get over him.

“Scared. We’ve been friends for so long…” She hints and she hopes to Godric he gets the hint and doesn’t think she’s talking about Fred, but decides to say more just in case, “He’s tall, funny, ginger, an incredible quidditch player, great with animals…”

“You like Charlie?” He teases to hide the excitement bubbling in his chest and she has to resist the urge to slap him. But she caught the glint of happiness in her eyes and he doesn’t even have to speak for her to know her feelings are reciprocated.

She launches herself into his lap, almost pressing him into a bunny when he falls backwards and she straddles his waist, pressing kisses over his cheeks, “No! I love you, George Fabian Weasley!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he exclaims, swatting her away, “What if I didn’t love you back?” He teases, eyebrows raised and Y/N lets out a cackle of laughter, “I know you, George Weasley, the look in your eye made it obvious you were excited I love you.”

It’s George’s turn to smile like an idiot as he rolls them over and presses his lips to hers, finally. Thirteen years of friendship, four years of loving her and he was not prepared for this kiss to knock the wind out of his lungs. All the love he feels for her is reciprocated and he feels like the happiest man in the entire world.

When they pull apart, George’s eyes are transfixed on hers. The redness disappearing and being replaced by what he can only assume is absolute pure joy. She blushes and turns her head, not being able to handle the attention he’s giving her and when George tries to follow her eyes, his own eye catches something.

He reaches up above her head and plucks something out of the ground before showing it to her. “A four-leaf clover,” he whispers and George can’t help but think it’s fate. The day they became friends he’d found almost a four-leaf clover and the day they became more, he found a real one.

“Your lucky day, boyfriend,” she winks as she pulls him into another kiss, but he stops her and she gives him a pout, “Who said I was your boyfriend?” He teases and the look of fear that flickers across Y/N’s face is reminiscent of the day he threatened her with a broken thumb.

“I- I- Sorry, I assum-” He cuts her off with a kiss, laughing against her lips, “You just didn’t give me a chance to ask you, darling,” he says as he pulls away and Y/N’s face is as red as a tomato in embarrassment and he kisses both her cheeks in reassurance.

“Y/N Y/L/N, would you please be my girlfriend?” he asks, but it’s almost phrased like a statement, like she has no other choice and honestly, Y/N doesn’t mind.

When she pretends to think about it, George waggles his eyebrows and waves the four-leaf clover in her face and she pulls him into a kiss again, hoping that a ‘yes, I’ll be yours for the rest of my days’ is obvious.

#george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george weasley one shot #george weasley x reader

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waywardimpalawriter · 4 years ago

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His boulevard of broke dreams

His boulevard of broken dreams

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Lisa Braeden, Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Lisa Braeden, Ben Braeden

Setting: A few days before Dean’s attacked by the Djinn

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: angst, feelings,

Word count: 2,979 (with lyrics)

Summary: Just a simple watch and report, till the man under surveillance reminds you who taught you everything you know.

Notes: Sequel to “Her” also written for #decadeundertheinfluencechallenge the song I choose is Boulevard of Broken dreams by Green Day. “My shadow’s the only one that walk’s beside me. My shallow heart’s the only thing that’s beating.”

Tag list is open for all fandoms I write for

Dean list: @akshi8278

His boulevard of broken dreams tag list: @cockslut-padalecki

Body shivering from the cold penetrating the cab of your truck dragging the thin crochet blanket tighter around your shaking frame and cursing the day of Sam Winchester’s birth. Searching for the reason you’re parked three blocks down hidden behind an old shed weary eyes searching for any suspicious active. Still wondering why you said yes in the first place. But then the reason rounds the corner and you duck down out of sight. Beat up old truck passed by as you raise neck turned to watch it disappear into the drive. A deep sigh leaving while teeth chatter and rubbing your arms to stay warm. Would’ve used the heat but a running truck gave way that someones sitting, watching.

Thankful you’ve had years of stakeout experience and know all of Dean’s habits. Though you’ve counted a few knew ones since last being in his present. Head shaking those thoughts from your mind especially when you’re there simply as a watch and report. Memories skating back to get three days ago when Sam and Bobby dropped the bomb on your ass.

“We need eyes on him, watching his movements and those around just in case,” golden flecked green eyes stare right through you. Tipping his shaggy brown head to the side Sam gives you a half smile that doesn’t reach those once warm eyes .

Shrugging, “I don’t get why I gotta do this? Why not just bring Dean back into the hunt? Why are you leaving him in the dark about being alive?” Only finding out yourself four weeks ago that Sam Winchester came back from the Pit alive and relatively well. Course you hadn’t believed your eyes at first, flinging a silver dagger at his head which he ducked blade imbedded into the spot his head once resided. Holy water splashed in his face after recovering from almost being shish ka-bobbed.

“Because,” running a hand through that just brushing the collar length brown hair eyes still firmly fixed on you. “He deserves that life Y/N to have peace for once and not worry about what monsters lurk around the next corner.”

“Pff like Dean would ever relax into an apple pie life style Sam. Knowing him there’s salt at every window, devil’s trap under each entryway point. Sawed off shotgun under the bed with holy water and salt right besides.” Your own eyes boring into his not believing his reasons for a second. Seeing one too many differences in the youngest Winchester since his return from death. “You can’t tell me a man like Dean Winchester would consciously not prepare for anything to come knocking at his door. Even if he’s given that life up it doesn’t just fade away, I know.”

Shrugging though there’s a twist to the look he’s giving you almost like he doesn’t truly care what happens to Dean. It’s there then gone making you wonder if you’re seeing things.

Different voice fills in this time,“That maybe so but he’s still entitled to that life. Just as we have to watch his backside to make sure that life stays intact.” Stepping forward to rest a hand on your shoulder, Bobby’s gravelly voice softens a touch know your feelings. Having put you back together after leaving Dean at Lisa’s almost a year ago.“I know this won’t be easy on you kid and I’d do it myself but I gotta get back up to Sioux Falls. Been away too long as is and Jodi already called half a dozen along with every half wit hunter in the area,” giving you a half smile and a pat on the shoulder. Having a soft spot much like the one he harbors for the boys but doesn’t tell them.

“Piece of cake,” brushing the concern off but deep down thankful for Bobby’s reassuring words. “He’ll never see me and I’ll only make sure no bad guys see him.”

I walk a lonely road

The only one that I have ever known

Don't know where it goes

But it's home to me, and I walk alone

I walk this empty street

On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Where the city sleeps

And I'm the only one, and I walk alone

“So much for this being a piece of cake,” huffing out the words grabbing for the second blanket and thermos filled with coffee. “Hmm cake that’s what I could use right now and a fucking bacon cheeseburger too.”

Passenger side door opening you reach for the 9 mm beside you, aiming it at the familiar brown head of Dean Winchester holding up a grease stained paper bag. “I come in peace and really don’t want to leave pieces plus I bring a peace offering up to the goddess,” soothing laughter edged voice comes from just outside the truck cab.

Thought you’d know that voice even in a crowded party with music thumping bass shaking the very roof shingles. “The fuck you doing Winchester I could’ve blown your head off.”

“Promise?” Wiggling his brow peeking in with that sinful signature smirk tugging at one corner of those plush lips. “Wanna lower that piece before you actually accidentally shoot me Dirty Harry?”

Tossing a balled up napkin at his head amazed at how quickly the same banter flows between you like old times. But it’s not old times and you’re not here to relive them. “How’d you know?”

“Sweetheart you maybe good but I’m still the best,” sliding into the bench seat of the truck, extending the greasy bag towards you. Keeping the door open a moment longer to take in your appearance, interior lighting doing shit for your complexion though to Dean you’re still beautiful as the day you walked out of his life.

Looking from the bag to Dean, “Letting all the cold air in dumb shit close the door,” huddling into the blankets deeper in the guise of trying to keep warm when in reality your shrinking away from Dean. “What’s in the bag?”

Slamming the aged door, hinges creaking in protest, “Thought you’d like something semi warm instead of jerky and lukewarm coffee.” Trying to study your features in the dim streetlamp light. Only catching shadows and angles from his position. Question’s and there’s a lot of them swirl inside his head. Most prominent one isn’t a question but a gut wrenching admission he wouldn’t voice to anyone other than himself.

“Never answered my question Winchester,” taking the offered bag as your stomach growled in hunger. Fresh French fries scented the air upon opening the brown bag. Immediately sticking a hand in and grabbing a few to stuff into your mouth. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome growly,” chuckling marveling at how somethings never change no matter how much time passes. “You always drive the same beat up pickup sweetheart. This might not be Bear,” patting the weathered dash broad in front of him. Affectionate smile tugging at his lips turning his glaze back towards you. “But you always find a truck just like him. Something wrong with yours? Finally gave up the ghost didn’t he?”

The genuine curiosity in his tone isn’t lost on you nor is the way he’s glancing in your direction while stuffing your face. “What something hanging from my mouth?” Wiping at your chin feeling a little self conscious under the weight of his stare.

“No sweetheart it’s just,” shaking his head adjusting himself, back pressed into the door, left leg bent foot dangling and wiggling, a sure sign his nerves are raging through his veins right now. “How’ve you been?”

Swallowing, hating the fact that your once close relationship has slipped into nothing. Remembering the promise — now broken — you made the last time in his presence. Though he knew nothing about it and most likely never really thought about you much after leaving. Biting the inside of your cheek to keep from asking him to finish his first thought. You’re slow to answer, pretending to chew that last bite just a little longer to put off from answering. At a lost to what exactly to tell him. “Good…I’m good very good actually,” forcing the words out through a tightened jaw.

“Hmm,” knowing by your body posture, the constant darting of your eyes all tells him these are lies passing your lips. Part of him wants to know why? Why after almost a year with no visits did you happen to show up now? Suspicion riding him hard and demands the questions be answered. Though there’s that other side, the one he’s artfully kept carefully hidden ever since you stepped out of his life. The one telling him to pull you into his arms, hugging the very life from your body. Holding on to part of his former life one he missed if he wanted to be truthful with himself. Settling on, “Why are you here?”

“Pulling no punches I see Winchester,” bitting off his last name almost like a curse. Warmth of earlier gone with the devoured food now just a memory of greasy bag and dirty napkins. Catching the curt nod from the man himself you sit up straighter looking out over the quiet neighborhood. Carefully kept lawns and white picket fences, trash cans in hiding places and houses in the best shape the apple pie life a fantasy they’ve all talked about. But none manage to obtain till Dean, his name tasting bitter on your tongue. Unused after all those months passing like melting snowflakes. Not wanting to regain that familiarity with the man sitting opposite, eyes drilling unseen holes into the side of your head.

Flinching slightly, hating the way his last name is spit from your mouth like garbage. “You came here remember, your also the one who stayed away don’t lay that shit at my door Y/N.”

“Yes, but your,” turning, eyes flashing in anger towards him, “the one who walked away remember. You left this life, abandon Bobby and Cas… me.” Whispering the last part hoping he didn’t hear.

Scoffing, “I made a promise to Sam,” bitting the name out while trying to keep his emotions in check. “I didn’t abandon anyone if anything you ditched me with no returned calls, texts or even a fucking visit.”

Hearing the bitterness that underlay the deep cadence in his voice, your head shakes trying to hold onto your anger. To not let out why you’re here nor the fact seeing him again after a year dredges up all those old feelings both those of insecurity and yearning. “Why would I stop by when I knew this would happen? When I’d see you with Her wishing for once you had chosen…” bitting your tongue, quickly turning away. “This was a mistake, get out of my truck Winchester.”

“No,” single word leaving those plush lips and making you whip around to stare at him. Mouth gapping like a fish out of water lungs burning for oxygen. “Not till you explain why you’re here. If it’s such a hardship to come why now?” Desperately wanting you to finish the thought but too afraid the answer would break his heart.

Only two things Dean Winchester regrets in his life, letting Sam dive into the pit with Lucifer trapped inside his body and you walking out of his life. Now he walks this life alone with no one truly beside him. Yes, Lisa’s there but unlike you, she doesn’t understand the nightmares, the constant need to double and triple check the windows and doors. The need to keep her and Ben safe always in the fore front of his mind. Many nights — though he’d never admit it — he’d lay awake wondering if he made the wrong choice.

I walk alone, I walk alone

I walk alone, I walk a-

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me

My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating

Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me

Till then I walk alone

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, aaah-ah

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah

Schooling your expression and turning towards him prepared to give an Oscar worthy performance not anticipating the lost expression in those whiskey fleck green eyes. Trying to keep the emotions from shaking the timber of your voice, “I’d been in the area figured I’d stop by say hi.” Swallowing harshly licking your dry lips slowly and diverting your eyes back towards the road. “Now I see it’s a mistake, you have a good life and I have mine. So kindly get the fuck out of my truck.”

“I call bullshit sweetheart,” moving closer, Dean reaches out to take the hand nearest and intertwine your fingers together. Familiar gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Touch of his hand searing into your skin like a brand scorching your very soul. “There hasn’t been a mysterious case in the area for over a hundred miles. Now you gonna tell me why you’ve drove out of the way to park on my street three houses down for the last three days?” For the first time in months feeling a peace enclose him like a warm blanket on a chilly winter’s morning. He desperate to keep that warmth to keep you but there’s a little voice in the back of his mind sneering at him ‘it’s too late you’ve lost.’

Eager to pull your hand free yet reluctance stills your movement as emotions swamp your mind with memories of years ago when the two of you still hunted together. Heart pounding a triple time rhythm one yours sure Dean could hear with being so close. Eyes close in a desperate bid to reign in those feelings, to give nothing away and leave just as stoically as last time. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

“Call it what you want Winchester but it’s the truth,” yanking your hand from his to cross arms over your chest. “I don’t care if it’s not the answer you want it’ll be the only one I gave. So I ask, no demand that you get the fuck outta my truck,” last few words hissed through clinched teeth.

And just like that cold water is poured over his head dousing the feelings bubbling up. For the best, his mind screams while turning to reach for the door. “Just so you know sweetheart I never abandoned you, would never I just didn’t think I could give you the life your deserve. I choose the easy way out because even if it doesn’t work with Her at least I would leave with my heart.” Door creaking when opened, Dean stepped from the aged truck slamming it behind him. Sam’s voice in his mind admonishing him for the chick flick moment of weakness.

Each step he took away from your truck tore his heart to shreds. Inter-monologue fighting between cursing at him and knowing that it’s for the best. Pausing for a moment to look back seeing no movement he wonders and not for the first time if he’ll ever see you again. One last look and he turns away back towards his house, not home because you weren’t there and without you and Sam it didn’t feel like home.

I'm walking down the line

That divides me somewhere in my mind

On the borderline

Of the edge, and where I walk alone

Read between the lines

What's fucked up, and everything's alright

Check my vital signs

To know I'm still alive, and I walk alone

Siting in stunned silence searching for what to do if going after Dean is the best course of action or just starting up your truck to drive away is better. Either way would break your heart. Dean’s with Lisa and you’d never make him choose. Never put those kind of demands on the man you love. For a moment longer you sit in silent contemplation wanting to rage at the world, to burn it to the ground and let the remains scatter across the four winds. Head dropping against the steer wheel for a moment till movement catches your eye, someone lurking just outside the well kept community.

Eyes narrowing, scooping up the night vision goggles, a gift from a certain brown eyed FBI agent you helped out of situation a couple of months ago in Texas with a haunted painting. Scanning the area closely, finally coming to rest on a man who out of place. Soft curses falling from your lips. Reaching for the cell to pull up Sam’s number.

“Green light Sammy get your ass down here now seems we got a pest problem luring about.” Tracking the suspicious male till he sprints of at inhuman rate of speed. Pulling the goggles of to toss them beside the empty brown bah.

“Be there by night fall tomorrow Y/N. Dean make you yet?” Weariness in his tone makes you wonder just what he’s up to.

Wanting to lie though deciding against pulling a page from the Winchester play book, “Sadly but nothings leaked just hurry your ass up.” Hanging up to toss the phone into the seat next to you, settling in for a very long night of watching.

I walk alone, I walk alone

I walk alone, I walk a-

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me

My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating

Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me

Till then I walk alone

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, aaah-ah

Ah-ah, ah-ah

I walk alone, I walk a-

I walk this empty street

On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Where the city sleeps

And I'm the only one, and I walk a-

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me

My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating

Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me

Till then I walk alone

#decadeundertheinfluencechallenge #Dean Winchester x Female Reader #Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader #Dean Winchester x F!Reader #Sequel to Her

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zhonglispetdinosaur · 3 years ago

Text

GENSHIN CHARACTERS AS QUOTES FROM ME AND MY FRIENDS PART 1 (mondstadt crew)

warning: alcohol and violence mentions plus references to being sick and injured

kaeya

"rosaria killed me in among us so i drank the last beer now she's coming for me."

"i'd make a good spy cause i have nothing that would make me stand out, oh wait i have blue hair nevermind i'd be a terrible spy"

amber

"my goal is to be the nicest lesbian ever and have a really mean lesbian gf"

"i was depressed so i bought two bunny plushies and flower hair clips now i'm fine again"

lisa

"why do fantasy shows have witches put frogs into their witchy stew, im a witch and i wouldn't put frogs into my stew, potatoes? yes, frogs? no"

"as your friendly local vegetarian lesbian witch i hereby announce that i am going to bed goodnight"

jean

"i may be the mum friend but remember you all only live cause i allow it."

"lisa said that we don't spend much time together so i booked us fencing lessons now we have to."

diluc

"i know kaeya is my brother but he's stupid and i don't wish to think about him"

"i poured wine into my glass then realised i don't drink wine so i gave it to venti and got a diet coke"

venti

"i tried to drink that gin on its own and for the first time in my life i felt the need to use mouthwash."

"how hard is running a country? just make sure everyone is happy and there you go. it's more than that? ITS MORE THAN THAT?"

fischl

"i watched a lot of fantasy anime and made it my entire personality"

"this isn't my halloween costume, bennett it's april!"

bennett

"when i was nine i ran into a wall so hard it bounced me into the wall behind me and i hurt my face and my back"

"oh i failed my drivers license test cause i sped over a roundabout and almost crashed into a concrete wall"

razor

"i haven't bitten anyone yet but you're close to it"

"the guy got too close to me so i barked at him and scared the shit out of him."

albedo

"i hope i get sent back to whatever lab i was made in life is hard rn"

"am i attractive to you or do i just have really soft looking hair?"

mona

"thought i was broke so i checked and i had £69 and well long story short i have to eat beans on toast for about a month straight now"

"the universe has a plan for you, a very gay one."

eula

"amber is the light of my life, the rest of you? i'd trade you all for a tortilla chip"

"well he ending up getting flu and being sick over christmas so i guess i got revenge"

barbara

"i'm playing love live, then i'll go and play bang dream and then maybe if i'm feeling like having more fun i'll pretend to be hatsune miku for an hour"

"he wouldn't leave me alone so i stomped on his foot and then when he was hopping around i pushed him into the mud and ran"

rosaria

"i'm sorry i'm a big tiddie goth lesbian but it's fun okay?"

"last time i stepped foot in a church i accidentally said oh my god and an old lady hit me with her purse. old ladies carry bricks in those things."

diona

"i live to make people unhappy it's one of my hobbies"

"i put so much lemon into his drink that it tastes like floor cleaner, oh no i did it on purpose"

klee

"hi i'm klee i'm tiny and i like setting things on fire"

"if i ask him very nicely do you think mr albedo will buy me matches? food even? you think so! i'll do it."

sucrose

"in year ten science i got so scared of the experiment we were doing that i hid under the table and cried"

"i'm not going to work i'm too shy"

#genshin impact #genshin memes #genshin impact memes

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kittydemon9000 · 4 years ago

Text

Growing Up

For @fangirl-616‘s Master of Emotion AU. It’s great and I highly recommend checking it out

———————————————

Even before his parents disappeared, Kai knew there was something off about himself.

Regular kids’ hair and clothes didn’t change colors. Regular kids didn’t make weird purple walls when they had nightmares or turn invisible when they were embarrassed. Regular kids couldn’t suddenly grow taller when they saw something new on the top shelf or make yellow butterflies that made toys move.

Not even his parents knew what was wrong with him, and they had explanations for everything.

But, being a child, he didn’t question it. After all, what kind of kid would complain about having super powers.

And at first, it was great. He had to be careful that his toys wouldn’t attack anymore visitors(poor Dr.Saunders still refused to go into his room, which didn’t make sense, his toys were always well behaved around everyone else) and to not slam anymore doors, but other than that his life was good and easy.

Until his parents went missing.

He and Nya had been playing with some of his butterflies outside. Dr.Saunders was visiting again, but he and Nya weren’t interested in any of their adult stuff.

The two siblings had gone running off into the nearby woods, chasing the butterflies around for hours.

They hadn’t realized how much time had passed until they saw the sun setting.

They weren’t worried yet, however. After all, maybe mom and dad had just decided to let them play for a little longer than usual.

The house was empty when they got back. The last few remaining butterflies started disappearing and purple was starting to creep up on the fading yellow.

But maybe they had gone to help Dr. Saunders with something, and they had left a note for Kai to read. Right?

They searched the house top to bottom. There was no note.

The moon went down and the sun came up.

There was no sign of them.

And there wasn’t any sign the next day. Or the next. Or the day after that, or after that, or after that.

Kai realized their parents weren’t coming back a lot sooner than Nya did.

Kai started racking his brain for every memory he had of dad working in the forge, trying to remember how to do it. He took odd jobs around Ignacia to get money, and stole if he had to(Nya didn’t know that).

Luckily his neighbors were mostly nice and gave him good deals in exchange for some help, like moving boxes or helping paint a fence.

He still had to drop out of school after 5th grade. He tried to help Nya the best he could, but most of the time she ended up teaching him(not that he wasn’t grateful, but it made him feel dumb(which Nya insisted he wasn’t)).

Most days were spent red or orange, a few navy or purple ones here or there, but no yellow. Never yellow. He had too much to do. He didn’t have time to play like all the other kids his age. He had to take care of Nya.

After a few years on their own, the two fell into a rhythm, slowly picking up the pieces of their shattered life.

Nya was doing amazing in school, and she soon became old enough to help him in the shop(despite Kai insisting she should be out socializing with other kids and not stuck in a store all day).

But there were some days when there was too much, be it too many tasks and responsibilities, or too many emotions from others, like on a busy market day or a back to school night.

Those days were the worst of all.

Those were the days when he ran as far into the forest as he could, just to get some quiet. Nya knew better than to follow him after the first time. That part of the forest was still regrowing.

And when he was alone, Kai would cry and scream and yell, black, navy, orange and red chasing each other around and around until Kai was finished.

Nya never asked about what happened in the forest, and Kai wouldn’t tell.

Their life was almost perfect again. Nya had graduated high school top of her class and had earned a scholarship to a great college, and the shop was doing well. Heck, if this kept up maybe in a few years Kai would be able to go to a night school or something and get a better job!

Of course, all those plans went right out the window the second the skeletons showed up.

Kai couldn’t quite explain what set him on edge. In his life, Kai had met more than a few bad people. It was times like that that made Kai very thankful he had his powers. Like that boy Nya beat in her science fair who reeked of jealousy, arrogance and lies(it made his arrest for assault all the more easy to predict).

But the skeletons were all that and so much more. Even before they had appeared from over the hill, he could feel their malice and hatred. But there was also something else. Something that made Kai sick to his stomach.

Whatever it was, it was something he wanted to keep it as far away from Nya as possible.

But, it seemed like Nya had other ideas. He should’ve known his baby sister was too stubborn to sit inside where it was safe.

One second he was bashing boneheads with his sister at his back, the next he was on his back as the old man who was talking of ninjas and insulting their wares became a tiny golden tornado and saved his life.

Barely seconds later, the four armed skeleton, Samukai, he remembered the old man called him, brought the water tower down.

He remembered the water tower falling.

He remembered his clothing turning purple and a barrier going up.

He remembered Nya and old man’s cries being consumed by the roaring of water and crashing of wood.

He didn’t remember the barrier not being strong enough.

He didn’t remember being knocked unconscious.

He didn’t remember Nya being taken.

When he’d finally awaken, the sun was back. He was lying on his bed in his room above the shop. For a second, he thought the whole thing was just a crazy dream, until he saw the old man enter.

He accidentally broke the cup he was given when he was told Nya had been captured. The old man looked slightly shocked as his clothes went from calm cyan to an angry orange, but Kai couldn’t care less.

He jumped at the man’s offer to train him.

He would do anything to get his baby sister back.

But little did he know what he was getting into.

#master of emotion #kai smith #ninjago

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kloxbian · 5 years ago

Text

To the Fire I Fall

Synopsis:

Clarke has been confined her whole life. To the Ark, and then, to Arkadia.

She’s done being confined.

Or maybe it would have been better to stay confined instead of accidentally wandering into enemy territory.

-AU with a twist: Elemental powers!

Notes: IMPORTANT: Though this contains nothing sexual, the relationship between Clarke and Lexa contains some not-so-subtle dom/sub undertones. This is my first time joining in on clexa week, and I have to say I’m very proud of myself for doing this. I started this as soon as possible because forbidden love is my weakness and I was goddamn ready to get on with it despite the fact that I had five (six?) fics going on at the time. I will also be making a second chapter to this after clexa week. Despite my love of open endings, this one deserves a more closed-off, certain one.

Ever since the Ark had fallen to Earth, Clarke had wanted to explore the world.

But she couldn’t because the fucking grounders wouldn’t let them.

The peace that was between Arkadia and the clans was… fragile. They had a treaty, but it was nothing more than ‘if you don’t bother us, we won’t bother you.’ There was a five-mile radius around Arkadia that the Trikru had generously gifted, but anything more was off-limits. The only people even allowed within the limits were the hunting parties and those that tended to the fields outside the fence.

Their peace had held for the past year since it was brokered, and, with a bit of support during the cold season, it hadn’t wavered. Neither side wanted it to.

Clarke didn’t want it to, either. But she at least wanted to explore their territory. Was that too much to ask?

According to her mother, it was.

So she did it herself.

“Shit, I never realized the trees were so tall.”

Well, not just herself.

“Raven, we could see them from inside Arkadia. They’re only, like, fifty feet from the border.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Are they really that amazing?”

“Yes! I mean, look! This trunk is wider than I am!”

“Okay, you aren’t that fat.”

Raven pouted and Clarke laughed. She hadn’t laughed until she reached the ground. Not after her father was murdered.

“Ex-cuse you. I am sexier than you’ll ever be, bitch!”

Clarke smiled widely at her friend’s antics but was more admiring the forest than listening to them. The forest was alive with birds singing, brush rustling as small animals moved within them, and it was a beauty Clarke had never experienced. The forest had such diversity, such color, it was more than she could ever have dreamed.

“You still there, Clarke?” Octavia playfully knocked the side of her head, and Clarke smiled sheepishly.

“Yeah. This is all just… beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Ha! See, I told you, Octavia!”

“Shut up, Raven, that was not what you were telling me!”

Clarke’s smile was more genuine than it had ever been, in the forest with two of her best friends. But they were loud, exuberant, and, dare she say it, obnoxious.

So Clarke slipped off alone, her disappearance unnoticed by her bickering friends.

As their voices faded into the background, Clarke closed her eyes and just breathed. The air was fresh and tasted sweet on her tongue, the sunlight beaming through the trees warming her face and shoulders, the soft breeze caressing her face. It was the most amazing thing she had ever and likely would ever experience.

She wandered on, surrounded by the environment of the forest, for a long time. She knew she could walk on forever and it would never get any less exhilarating.

That was her last thought before she felt herself pulled against a body and cold metal press against her throat.

She felt breath wash over her ear. “Look at this; a Skai girl on the wrong side of the border. Did you get lost, idiot child?”

Clarke cursed internally. She was going to be in so much trouble when she got out of this.

The knife moved away from her throat, hovering just in front of it. “Talk.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I intruded. I didn’t even know where the border was!” She pleaded, not even trying to escape from the woman’s strong grip.

“You didn’t know?” The woman laughed harshly. “Branwada. You should have.”

Clarke was about to retort before something hit her hard in the side of the head and her vision went black.

When Clarke wakes, she’s behind bars lying in the dirt.

She’s alone. There are no guards, no sounds, no nothing. Clarke wonders where the other prisoners are if they have any. She’d been told the grounders don’t take prisoners, that all offenses are punishable by death. They say it so harshly, like it’s the most terrible thing, even though they had done the same thing on the Ark. She’d always hated how they talked of the clans like they were a virus to be exterminated. She hopes she won’t agree after this experience.

If she survives the experience.

She hears footsteps coming down the corridor and a grounder steps in front of her cell. He looks at her passively, speaking over his shoulder. “Honon ste stomba raun, Oneda (The prisoner is awake, General).”

“Os. Bants osir. (Good. Leave us.)” A woman stepped past the guard, looking at Clarke with contempt. Clarke recognized the voice as the same woman that had captured her.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Clarke asked, wincing at the sound of her raspy voice. “Are you going to kill me?”

The woman tilted her head. “Why would I do that?”

“Isn’t that what you do to your prisoners?”

She snorted. “Your leaders know nothing of us, yet they tell their people that we are savages. I shouldn’t have expected any more from such arrogant leaders.” The woman shook her head, leaning casually against the bars. “No. You will not be killed. We have no proof that your intrusion was anything more than an innocent mistake made from Skaikru ignorance.”

“So are you going to let me go?”

She was silent for a moment. “No. You still are an intruder. You broke the treaty.”

Clarke gasped. “Please don’t hurt them because of this. I didn’t know, I swear!”

The woman considered her. “You protect your people. I do not see many Skaikru willing to do that. Are you one of the leaders?”

Clarke was taken aback. “Of course not! I’m not even eighteen yet!”

“Does that mean you cannot be a leader?”

“You can’t be on the council unless you’re over twenty-five.” Clarke sighed. “To them, I’m still a child.”

The woman looked amused. “Your ways are… intriguing, to say the least. Though you are still very much irritating, you are more competent than most of your leaders.”

Clarke decided to take that as a compliment.

“As for what will be done with you, I shall have to consider. You have broken the treaty accidentally, with no malicious intent. Not something fit for punishment, but to let you go free without repercussion would encourage more purposeful intrusions.”

The woman tilted her head thoughtfully. “You are an odd case. I will have to think this over, but I can assure you we will not kill you, and that you will, at some point, make it home.”

Clarke sighed. “Thank you…”

“I am General Anya. You will address me as General.” With those last words, Anya turned and said something to the guards in their language before striding out of the prisons. A guard brought a plate of food to her and then the entire prison cleared out.

Clarke groaned as she tasted the meat. Despite it being food they were feeding to a prisoner, it was the best meat she’d ever had. Sure, Arkadia had hunting parties who brought back meat, but it wasn’t nearly as good as this. She swiped her finger over the coating of flakes on top of the meat and figured it must be what old-world called ‘spices.’ She was thankful for such a good meal.

She settled against the wall at the back of the cell. Who knew how long she would be there for.

Clarke was awoken by two men grabbing either arm and hoisting her to her feet. She struggled. “Hey! Where am I going?”

“Quiet, honon,” a guard said, yanking roughly on her arm.

Clarke hissed, getting a hold on the ground and walking between them instead of being dragged. Outside, Anya was waiting on a horse with four other guards mounted around her. Another horse, this one without a rider, stood next to Anya.

The guards tossed her onto the horse, and she scrambled to sit on it correctly. “Where are we going?”

Anya spared her barely a glance. “I am taking you to Heda. She will decide your fate.”

Clarke was confused. “Don’t the guards call you heda?”

“They call me Oneda. It means ‘under Heda.’ Heda is the commander.” Clarke paled. She’d heard stories of the commander, how he was a ruthless murderer who wanted complete and total control, though considering what she’d seen here, it probably wasn’t accurate. She hoped.

Anya told her how to ride in the least amount of words possible before they were off. This was the first time Clarke had actually seen the village and she couldn’t help but gape. It was nothing like the council had described. Nobody looked miserable or angry, they all looked happy. Children ran around chasing each other, some carrying fake swords that they would pretend to fight with. Stalls were set up with merchants, bartering goods. There was a large pavilion off to the side that had smoke running out the side from a fire in which smoked meat lay. The chef tossed spices over the top of it and handed it out to people in exchange for what looked like trinkets.

Anya gave her an amused look from over her shoulder. “We aren’t savages, skai girl, no matter what your ‘council’ told you.”

No, they weren’t. Everything Clarke had heard about the grounders has so far been proven wrong. These people didn’t look like heartless brutes. They looked like normal people. Sure, most were bigger and far more muscled and maybe they wore different clothes and spoke a different language. They are still the same in the end. Just people trying to find their way in the world their predecessors created around them.

They passed through two large wooden gates that closed behind them and they went into the forest.

Only an hour in and Clarke’s legs were aching.

She’d never in her life ridden a horse. She’d heard of them, even seen a couple, but never came close, much less sit atop one. At first, it was nauseating, the swing of the horse’s steps swaying her back and forth, but she learned to let her hips swing with the rhythm, to move with it instead of against it. As long as she sat back and relaxed, everything was fine. Except for the fact that sitting like this for an hour was not so comfortable. Clarke couldn’t imagine doing this for the entire day, much less think about how the grounders were able to perform inexplicable stunts on them. Sitting and walking was one thing. Putting your trust in a two-ton creature that could crush you under its feet? Not so easy.

They rode for the rest of the day, stopping once in between for a slight rest before they were back on the path. They passed many other travelers, most merchants trying to sell their goods. Most seemed put off by her, and Clarke wondered if the grounders viewed Skaikru in the same way as Skaikru viewed them.

Clarke was relieved to be off of her horse. The mounts were tied up to a tree and the grounders set up tents, four of them, on flat, even ground. When everyone had eaten and drank, two guards took up positions on either side of the camp and the others each took a tent. “Try anything, Skai girl, and the guards will not hesitate to knock you out,” Anya warned before she sent Clarke into one of the tents. She passed out the moment her head hit the pillow despite sleeping half the day.

The following day proceeded much the same. Nothing of note happened, and that night they set up the same way. Clarke grew more comfortable around the grounders, though she still didn’t trust any of them, and her thighs weren’t as sore as they were yesterday, much to her relief.

On the fourth day, they reached their destination. The first thing Clarke saw was a large tower sticking out of the trees, towering above them higher than anything she’d seen. As they grew closer, she could see that the tower stood in the center of a city, a city that stretched wide on all sides. The wall surrounding it was at least twice the size of Arkadia’s, perhaps more.

The people in the city were the most diverse she’d ever seen. People of all colors walked the streets, many waving politely to their small party. She saw people covered in tattoos like Trikru, people with scarred faces and pale skin, people with dark skin and braided hair, and many more. She couldn’t see into the stalls from where she was, but she couldn’t imagine what sorts of things they sold.

The tower, at the foot of it, reminded her of an old-world skyscraper. From the bottom, it was impossible to see the top, the many windows blurring together into fuzzy shapes.

Anya spoke softly yet harshly to her in the elevator, which Clarke was startled to discover worked. “The commander is not someone to take lightly. You will show Heda proper respect, and if you do not there will be severe punishment. Do not speak unless spoken to, but do not bow to Heda. This one, in particular, is not fond of the gesture.”

Clarke fidgeted nervously as they stepped out of the elevator, staring at the large set of doors at the end of the hall. Four guards were positioned in front of it, large men with menacing spears obviously meant to intimidate. It worked.

Their eyes fixed on her as she walked behind Anya, eyes on the ground. She heard the men knock twice on the doors before pushing them open. Anya walked in confidently with Clarke straggling behind her.

She felt a new gaze on her, one much less harsh and more curious than the guards. “Heda, this skai girl invaded our territory just a few days earlier. She claims to have not known where the borders were.”

“Is this true, Skai girl?” Clarke felt a jolt of surprise at the voice. She had expected a hard, masculine tone, harsh and rough, not this smooth yet demanding feminine one. She looked up for the first time since entering the room and laid her eyes upon the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.

The commander lounged lazily on her throne, a knife spinning between her fingers. Her hair was a dark chocolate, slightly wavy and entwined with intricate braids. Her outfit was black leather, all padded and protected, with a large pauldron on her shoulder sporting a red sash. Her face was smooth and soft, her skin tanned nicely, yet her eyes were hard and serious.

Clarke dipped her head politely. “Yes, commander.”

“Why were you unaware of the border? You should have known not to come close.”

Clarke nodded. “Apologies, commander, but the Skaikru forbid anyone except the hunting parties and field tenders to leave the camp. That was the first day I’d been outside the walls since they were built. I hadn’t been aware I’d walked a full five miles.”

A man was standing to the right of the commander, just behind the throne. His face was adorned with a permanent scowl. He scoffed. “These Skaikru are problematic, Heda, just like I told you they were. They are so inordinate they don’t even bother showing their people the rules. I say we drive them out.”

“Shof op, Titus. If I want your opinion I will ask for it.” The commander looked back to Clarke, who suddenly felt so insignificant under her gaze. “So you went against your people’s laws to leave camp?”

Clarke flushed red. “Yes,” she said sheepishly. “After being stuck in the Ark, and then Arkadia, we wanted to explore what was out there.”

The commander raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“Ah-yes,” she stuttered. “Two friends left with me. I separated from them and I expect they turned around before reaching the border if you haven’t seen them, or maybe were caught by our guards.”

“I see.” The commander turned to Anya. “And why couldn’t you figure this out yourself?”

“I was unsure of a fit punishment for the girl,” she replied. “Her crime is not her own fault but that of her people, though the only option is to punish her in some way to show that we will not tolerate trespassers.”

The commander nodded. “You are right. Join me and my advisors for dinner tonight. We will discuss the matter then. For now, give this girl arrangements in a guest room. She is not a prisoner and I will not treat her as such, at least not until an outcome has been decided.” She signaled to the guards, who gestured for Clarke to go with them, though before she could, the bald man spoke up.

“Wait.” All three hesitated, and the commander turned to him. He looked at her pleadingly. “Heda, she is a trespasser. We do not accommodate trespassers.”

“And whose fault is it that she trespassed?”

“It is her own, Heda! I beg of you, please consider the fact that she may be lying to gain information.”

“I don’t believe she is,” Anya said. “I saw her when she crossed the border. She was not looking for any guards, much less expecting an attack. She truly did not know she crossed the border.”

“You cannot be sure!” The man insisted. “For all we know, she is a spy! A deceiving woman feigning innocence to keep her in good favor!”

“Titus, she is not-”

“Enough!” The commander rose from her chair, throwing her arms out to the side. The braziers caught fire, the flames roaring up until they brushed the ceiling. Titus and Anya both froze. “We will settle this matter over dinner instead of arguing about it like children. Guards, take the girl to her rooms. Titus, Anya, remain.” Clarke looked at the commander fearfully, her piercing eyes boring right through her before the guards led her out of the throne room, the doors shutting behind them.

Clarke’s rooms were large, thrice the size of her old one on the Ark, even with her parent’s status on the council. She had an incredible view from the balcony, a comfortable fur bed instead of a hard cot, and, to her surprise, the drawers of the desk contained items in them. Most were simple, everyday things, nothing you would think twice about, but Clarke was surprised and delighted to find out they had paper and charcoal. They had practically none at Arkadia, and the resources on the Ark were scarce. She wondered how plentiful paper was to the grounders. They must have a lot if they would leave it laying in a guest room like this.

And so Clarke drew. The first thing she drew was Polis. It was grander than any city she’d seen, with the tower looming in the middle, a flame perched precariously atop it. She sketched it out and shaded it enough to form shape and distinction before she itched to move to something else. There were so many things to draw, she was impatient to get them all out. She’d finish that one later.

To her surprise, time passed quickly. By the time the guards brought in her dinner, she’d sketched out a picture of the forest, of a horse, and was in the middle of sketching the intricate throne she’d seen the commander sitting upon. The meal smelled heavenly, and she wolfed down the smoked meat and deliciously seasoned corn. If this was what she got to eat here, she’d happily stay a while.

After her meal, she finished her sketch of the throne and was trying to decide on what to draw next when the doors opened. She looked up from where she sat at the table to see the commander walking in. Her pauldron was gone, but the red ribbons twined into her hair still marked her as the commander.

Clarke stood up, brushing her drawings to the side. “Commander,” she said, inclining her head politely.

“We have come to a decision about your fate,” she said, skipping over pleasantries. “You are allowed to leave whenever you wish to return to your people with no punishment. However,” she paused, “you will deliver the message that any skaikru caught beyond the border, accidental or not, will be punished accordingly by my people.”

Clarke tilted her head. “Punished accordingly?”

“If it was a misunderstanding or curious children, the worst they would face might be captivity for some time or maybe working as an indentured servant, if the crime was so bad. If we have reason to believe they had malicious intent, they will be killed.”

Clarke was a bit startled by her casual stance on such a thing but nodded. “Of course. I will tell our leaders when I return.”

“And when will you return?”

Clarke was surprised. “I get a choice?”

“Yes. You are my guest for the time you remain at Polis. You may leave whenever you wish.”

She blinked, staying silent for a minute. “Can I stay a few more days?”

“If that is what you wish.” The commander walked over to her, looking down at her drawings before nodding to the couch. “May I?”

Clarke shifted over, allowing the Commander to sit with a few feet of space between them. The commander dragged one of her drawings over to look at, speaking without looking up. “Can I ask why you wish to stay instead of return to your people?”

She had to take a moment to process the question. “Um, yeah. I guess I just want to be somewhere new. As I told you, I’ve never left Arkadia since we came to Earth.”

The commander looked disturbed by that. “Not even once? You never explored the trees around your home?”

“Never. Unless you were hunting or gathering materials or some other task, you were forbidden from going past the treeline.”

The commander pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You were forbidden to explore the trees despite that you had grown up in a metal box your entire life.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I cannot say I pity you at all,” she replied. “I would much despair at such a life. It’s a wonder no one else has wandered out of your camp.”

“Security’s tight. It’s hard to leave without getting noticed.”

“Then how did you?”

Clarke shrugged. “One of my friends helped design the fence around Arkadia. She knew all the loopholes.”

The commander still looked a bit confused. “I’ve been told your fence is nothing more than wires. I do not understand how hard it could be to leave.”

Clarke hesitated at this. If she told the commander the strength of their fences, it was possible she’d use that against them. Then again, from what Clarke had seen, the commander had no intention of attacking. Even so, the grounders were likely strong enough to bring down the fence anyway. “The fence is electric. If you touch the wires, you’ll get shocked with a hundred volts at about a fifteen hundred milliamps.”

The commander looked even more confused. “I do not know what any of that means.”

“Oh. Right. If you touched it, it would hurt. A lot.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Would it?”

“Yeah. I know your warriors are tough and all, but trust me, they would definitely feel it.”

“If you say so.” The commander had tugged a couple more of Clarke’s sketches over to look at. “Would you mind if I asked about your life on your ‘Ark’? I find such a life hard to understand.”

“Uh, sure.” Clarke fidgeted in place. Though this woman couldn’t be much older than herself, she radiated an aura of power that made Clarke want to bend to her every command. It was no wonder she was the leader around here.

“Your ‘ship’ was in the sky for over a hundred years. How did it stay afloat?”

“Oh, um, well, up in space, there isn’t any gravity, which basically means there’s nothing pulling you toward the ground. The problem with space is that there isn’t any oxygen, so if you leave the ship without a suit, you’d die.”

“Like the maunon,” the commander muttered.

“The mountain men? Exactly like that.” Clarke leaned back against the cushions and sighed, memories flashing through her mind. “We had no dirt to grow our food in and no animals to get meat from, so everything was artificial. It all tasted bland. Even the water felt impure.”

“How do you get meat without animals?”

Clarke shrugged. “I have no idea how they did it, but they used the plants that they grew in this odd kind-of-dirt material to make it into something like meat. It was terrible, but it worked.” Memories of her first taste of real meat came back to her. “The half-raw rabbit we ate our first day was the best thing I’d ever had.”

The commander had a look of disgust on her face, and Clarke couldn’t blame her. The food an average grounder ate was a million times better than what the Ark had made. “What made your people come to the ground if you were surviving in ‘space’?”

“We were running out of air. When the Ark first launched from Earth, it was packed with a ton of oxygen, enough to last for centuries, but after living in it for two hundred years it began to run out, and so we had to leave. We didn’t even know if we’d survive on the ground, but likely death is better than certain death.” Clarke remembered feeling terrified as the Exodus ships launched, blasting them to the ground with no assurance of even making it down alive. She shuddered at the thought.

The commander hummed and was about to ask another question before there was a knock at the door. “Heda?”

She looked up sharply. “Chit ste em yu gaf (what is it you need)?”

` “Bandrona kom yujleda gada don kom op. Em seiso hit kom yu taim na kom au (An ambassador from Yujleda has arrived. She asked to meet with you as soon as possible).”

The commander nodded, standing from the couch. “I appreciate the knowledge you’ve given me and hope you will feel welcome for the next couple of days. Have a good night, skai girl.”

“Clarke.”

She turned back around, her eyebrows furrowing, and Clarke noticed just how bright of green her eyes were. “What?”

“You keep calling me sky girl,” she said. “My name’s Clarke.”

The commander nodded. “And I am Leksa kom Trikru, though, as is protocol, you must call me commander, or simply Heda.” She went to leave but paused a moment. “Would you mind if I came back around this time tomorrow?”

That wasn’t something Clarke was expecting. “Uh, sure, if you want.”

“Good. You’re a very interesting person, Klark kom Skaikru. I do hope you realize that.” With that final statement, she pulled open a door and left.

Clarke was left wondering if a person could be any more confusing.

Despite being alone in her room the entire next day, Clarke enjoyed her day. She cleaned up her drawings from the night before and began new ones, sitting on the balcony outside and drawing Polis from an above angle. She’d snagged some books from a dusty shelf in the corner, most in the grounder language but a couple of old-world books tucked in among them. She’d picked out something that was described as a ‘sci-fi thriller’ and began to read that.

The food was even better than she’d had previously. A steak of meat, wheat biscuit, a collection of fruits, and a goblet of light wine with her dinner. She’d never had alcohol, wasn’t allowed to at Arkadia, but it was slight enough that she wasn’t bothered.

True to her word, Lexa knocked on her doors about an hour after dinner. Clarke let her in and they sat down as they had the night before.

“Klark. How was your day?” Lexa began, stretching her arms over the top of the couch. Clarke ignored the fact that her hand was close enough to brush her shoulder.

“It was good. Not much to do in a single room, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. We don’t have actual paper at Arkadia, so I’m grateful for that.”

“I’m glad,” Lexa said. “If you’d like tomorrow, you may explore the city. The guards will accompany you, assist you if necessary, but they will not bother you. Do not feel as if you must remain in your room your entire stay. If you ever need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

Clarke blinked. “I appreciate your kindness, Commander.”

“You are my guest. I will not have you restricted like a prisoner.”

Clarke didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

Lexa nodded toward her papers. “You said you had no paper at Arkadia. If you did not have any, how do you draw so well?”

“We had chalk up on the Ark, and my dad, being an engineer, had charcoal that he used to teach me. I learned from him. Down here, we don’t have anything. I haven’t been able to really draw in months.” She fingered the charcoal, rolling it until a fine black coat covered her fingertips. “It’s refreshing to be able to draw again.”

“If you’d like, I can have some of our watercolors brought here for you.”

“Watercolors? You mean colors I can draw with?” Clarke had seen such pictures in books, paintings done in all shades of the rainbow, colors she wished she could replicate. “You have those?”

“Yes. They are a form of dye mixed with water. Fairly easy to make, if you know what types of plants produce what color.” The corners of Lexa’s lips twitched up as she watched Clarke’s face morph into a mixture of awe and excitement. “I shall have them brought to you tomorrow.”

“I- would love that. Thank you,” Clarke breathed, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

Lexa scanned over the room. “I see you found the books.”

“Yeah. Most are in- whatever language you speak, but a couple are in English.”

“I have not practiced my Gonasleng reading in a while,” Lexa mused, tugging the book Clarke had been reading to her and flipping it open to a random page. The sun was setting beneath the horizon and darkening the corners of the room enough that reading the words on the page was impossible. With a flick of her wrist, Lexa had all the candles in the room alight with their tiny flames.

Clarke yelped at the sudden burst of light and Lexa gave her an odd look. “Are you alright?”

“What-how-” she took a moment, breathing in deeply. “How the hell did you just do that?”

“You mean light the candles, yes?” She nodded. Lexa seemed just as confused as she was. “I summoned the flames. Do you not have fayahakas (fire-makers) in Arkadia?”

“You summoned them?” Clarke had to stop a minute, reining in her mind. “You can summon fire?”

“Yes.”

“Can everyone summon fire?”

“Of course not,” Lexa said, her eyebrows furrowed inquisitively. “Only the strongest control fire. The others control weaker elements.”

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” Clarke said. “Your people can control elements.”

“Yes. Yours cannot?”

“No! I’ve never even heard of such a thing!” She exhaled heavily. “What about your general? Anya? What does she control?”

“Anya is a graunhaka. She controls the earth beneath our feet.” Lexa tilted her head. “You have no keryonakas? None at all?”

“If you mean people that can control stuff like earth and fire, no, we don’t. Everyone can control elements?”

“Yes. It is something you are born with. Children are taught to harness their powers at a young age.”

“Harness their powers,” Clarke muttered. “Do you think we would be able to if we were taught how?”

“It is possible,” Lexa said. “Do you wish to try?”

“I- yes, I would. Hell yes.”

Lexa looked her up and down, taking her in, and nodded. “Okay. We begin tomorrow.”

“Wait, really? What’s going to happen?”

“I will complete my duties as Heda and collect you after I have finished training with the natblidas, likely mid-afternoon. I will by then have chosen a place to go.” Lexa twitched her wrist, the flames from a single candle flowing to her and twirling around her finger. “Keryonak is not something to be treated lightly. A single mistake can be lethal to the controller or those around them. You must enter this seriously. Do you swear to do so?”

Clarke wasn’t sure she could say no even if she tried, with those eyes boring down on her. “I swear.”

“Good. Be ready tomorrow.” Lexa stood, her fingers brushing lightly over Clarke’s shoulder as she retracted her arms. “I will have the colors delivered to your room tomorrow morning, as promised.”

The watercolors. Clarke had forgotten about those. The excitement over such a thing was overshadowed by the idea of the grounders being some sort of magic. She dipped her head politely. “Good night, Heda.”

“Reshop, Klark.”

Lexa knocked on her door exactly when she’d promised she would.

“I will be taking you to a remote location just outside of Polis,” Lexa said as she led Clarke to the elevator at the end of the hallway. “There are still many who are opposed to keeping Skaikru alive and would not appreciate me revealing our powers of keryonak. We will be taking one of the lesser-traveled roads to one of the side gates. Try not to draw attention to yourself.”

Lexa turned out to be a hypocrite. She drew enough attention for both of them.

Clarke was in awe at how much the people revered her. Many came up to them offering Lexa their praises, gifts, or asking for a blessing. At one point, a small child of no more than five ran up to them and tugged on the side of Lexa’s coat. “Yu krei meizen, Heda. En yuj. Ai gaf ge belaik yu (You’re very pretty, Commander. And strong. I want to be strong like you)!” Lexa chuckled, ruffling his hair and whispering promises in his ear before sending him away. Her tenderness with the child did nothing but boost Clarke’s respect for her.

Their guards stopped at the side gates, joining the other gatekeepers as Lexa continued into the forest. She took the time to admire the scenery around them, not much different from the woods they’d traveled through to get to Polis, but still breathtakingly beautiful nonetheless. She noted the small smile on Lexa’s face when she looked back at her. “The trees amaze you.”

“Yeah, they do.” Clarke did not need to explain why. Lexa already knew.

“You will have time to admire them later. We are here.” They had only walked for maybe five minutes and now emerged into a small clearing, looking as if it had been created by man rather than naturally. There were racks of wooden swords to the side and thick lines traced in the dirt, forming a small arena.

“Working with the spirit powers is a delicate task. If you waver even slightly, you may lose your grasp, something which can be deadly when working with something such as fire,” Lexa said, drawing a line of fire out of thin air. “We will start small. Anything larger than the size of your palm is generally hard for anyone inexperienced to keep control of.”

Clarke shifted, unable to keep still. “How do I know what I am?”

“That is what we will figure out. All elements are usually an indicator of personality. Water is calm and soft but can turn deadly in an instant. Earth is a realist, someone who is firm in their beliefs and stubborn to the core. Storm is anger, people who are often unable to contain themselves. Fire is power, strength, a sign of great leadership. There has never been a commander who did not harness flames.” Lexa masterfully weaved tendrils of fire in and out, creating an intricate dance in the air. The sparks that came from then had Clarke taking a step back.

Lexa pulled the flames back into her. “We will try each element until we find which one you are. Water, fire, and storm can all be summoned using the same basic method, so we shall begin there. Are you ready?” Clarke took a deep breath and nodded. As exciting as this was, it scared her. She didn’t let that put her down.

Lexa began her instructions. “Draw the energy from the air. Feel the power around you, the spirit that chose you, and summon its power to you. Imagine it clustering above your palm, hovering there, still and unmoving.” Lexa demonstrated, a small ball of fire forming above her open hand.

Clarke did so and realized that she could feel something. The air around her seemed to hum, calling softly to her. “I can feel it.”

“Good. Draw it to you.”

Clarke tried to reach out, grasping for something she couldn’t reach. She tried tugging it closer, but it didn’t budge. “It isn’t coming. I can’t reach it.”

“Don’t reach for it. Ask for it. Call it to you. Be gentle with it. Show it the respect it deserves.”

She opened herself to the power, asking for it to come to her, treating it like she was coaxing a shy child. It edged closer to her, relenting to her requests and surrounding her in comfortable warmth. She urged it to gather in front of her, to form something solid.

It all moved forward and drew itself together into a ball of power that the moment it formed exploded into a blast of searing light. She yelped, blinking quickly to regain her sight after the sudden blinding light. Lexa was a bit disoriented, staring in disbelief at her.

Clarke let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Did I… did I do it?”

Lexa was silent for a moment, composing herself before answering. “You did… something.”

“What do you mean? Did I do it wrong?”

“No, no, you did everything right. It was perfect. It’s just-” Lexa took a deep breath, closing her eyes and rubbing at her temples as if she had a headache. “What you summoned was not as I expected. Not water, storm, fire, or earth.”

Clarke couldn’t seem to grasp what that meant. “Them what did I summon?”

“I believe,” Lexa said slowly, “that you have just unearthed an entirely new element.”

Clarke was hyperventilating. Lexa barely seemed able to contain her emotions.

“What the hell do I do?” Clarke asked, her voice quiet. “This changes things, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lexa admitted. “Such a discovery has not been made since Bekka Pramheda. This is groundbreaking.”

“Are you still going to let me go?”

“I will not have you kept prisoner here,” Lexa insisted. “You have done nothing wrong. Though, I would ask of you to stay a bit longer after this.”

“Why? What’s going to happen to me?”

“I will have to inform my people. There are many who would want to harness your power themselves, to take you and claim you as their own. But we will not tell them yet.” Clarke stood straighter at that. “We do not even know exactly what this is. With your permission, I would like to start active lessons between you and me, working with your spirit. Discovering what it is and what it holds. I will not have them informed until after you are back within the safety of your own people.”

Clarke felt a rush of sudden emotions toward the young commander, understanding just how much she had risked for her already. To house her even with the threat of others trying to kill her, to show her their secret powers, to train her in such powers, and now she was putting her life on the life to make sure she remained safe. “I cannot express how grateful I am to you for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you.”

Lexa seemed a bit miffed at the sudden announcement but smiled back. “Of course, Clarke. The lessons?”

“Oh!” As she could see it, Clarke had two options: accept the commander’s offer of teaching her more about her mysterious powers, or going home. The choice seemed obvious. “Of course. I’ll work with you.”

“Good. Could you find your way back to the gates we exited through tomorrow without my guidance?” Clarke nodded. “Then I shall meet you there two candlemarks after noon.”

“Candlemarks?”

“Yes. I believe you call them ‘hours.’ Have you noticed the candles the handmaiden brings in when she delivers your food?”

“You mean the ones with the nails in them? Yeah.”

“When a nail falls, it strikes the hour. The maid arrives at eight, so the sixth nail would be two after noon. Do you think you can be here by then?”

“I think so.”

Lexa nodded. “Very well. We must return. I have a few more duties to attend to before dinner.”

“Yeah, okay.” Clarke didn’t move to follow her, though, and Lexa turned to give her a confused look. Clarke focused around her, feeling the hum that somehow already felt familiar. This time she drew only a small bit, condensing it above her hand and forming a small glowing ball.

Lexa rushed back toward her, stopping a foot away. She hesitantly reached forward, her hand going right through the ball. “Light,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You are a sonchaka.”

“Light,” she repeated, trying to move the ball as Lexa had with her flame only for it to dissipate back into the air. The two women stood in silence for a moment, taking it all in.

Lexa gripped Clarke’s shoulders roughly. “Tell no one. Not a soul. This cannot get out, do you understand?”

“Yes, commander.”

“Good.” Lexa let go, sighing heavily. “And please, call me Leksa.”

Clarke froze mid-step. “But protocol-”

“Is not necessary when the only one I am around is you. Please, Klark. I would like to consider you a friend, especially if we are to continue meeting day after day.”

She nodded. “Okay. Lexa.”

They exchanged small smiles before finally beginning their return to Polis.

To Clarke’s surprise, Lexa visited her again that night, same time as she always did. She carried books in her hands.

“I had my fleimkepa scan our records on elementals,” she began once they were seated, placing the books on the table. “He found books on the discovery of the elements when the first people began to believe in the spirits from over a century ago. It was so long ago that many were written in English.” Lexa patted the books. “These are a few of them.”

Clarke took the top one. The cover said The Science of the Spirits, written in intricate cursive. Flipping to a random page, she saw that the entire thing was in English, more like a notebook than a novel. Sketches and graphs were scattered in among the words. She smiled at Lexa. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to look through them.”

Lexa dipped her head. “Have you worked any more on your soncha?”

“A bit.” She pulled up an orb of light, something she’d done so many times in the past couple of hours it came easily. “I can’t do much with it, though.”

“That’s to be expected. We will work on that more tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Okay.” The light dissipated, leaving the room in shadows.

They sat in silence for a minute, neither knowing what to say. “If you’d like, I can give you a tour of the city after tomorrow’s lesson.”

Clarke sat up. “I thought you had duties.”

Lexa shrugged. “I always have duties. They can be put off. I’d be glad to take a break from them for a little while, though I will be pressed on time. Unless you’d rather have one of your guards give you the tour?”

The thought of one of the large, quiet men who stood outside her room day and night giving her a tour was not very appealing. “No, no. I’d love if you would give me a tour of the city.”

“Very well.” She stood. “If there is nothing else to say, then I’ll be leaving. I shall do my own research on your soncha and inform you if there is anything you need to know.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Lexa nodded stiffly and left the room. Clarke sighed, adjusting to lean against the arm of the couch and tugging one of the books into her lap.

Her life had just become a hell of a lot more interesting.

Clarke and Lexa met at the gates and carried on to the arena. At first, their interactions were stiff and polite, nothing more than formal. Clarke managed to break that in a less than conventional way.

She held a ball of light in her hands, carefully increasing its size until it was twice the size of her fist. She added another pulse of energy and it exploded in her face.

Lexa snorted, barely able to contain her laughter as Clarke fell flat on her ass in surprise. She stood up, brushing the dirt off and looking at Lexa, who now had a playful smirk on her face. “Are you alright, Klark?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” she said, and Lexa exhaled sharply to keep from bursting out laughing. Clarke glared at her and Lexa’s grin only widened.

“Shall we try again?”

Clarke tossed a ball of light at Lexa’s face. It did nothing but amuse her more. Clarke buried her face in her hands and a soft glow began to waft off her body. Lexa informed her of such.

“Great, now I’m a fucking lightbulb.” Clarke stared at her arms with as much intensity as she could until the light flickered away. She grumbled about it under her breath and turned back to Lexa. “So, the tour?”

Lexa had gotten ahold of her expression, but her eyes still glinted with laughter. “Of course, Klark. Come.”

The guards followed behind at a distance as they stepped off the side streets and into the main market. It was filled to the brim, people from all tribes bustling around. Clarke stared slack-jawed at everything around her. Peering into one of the stalls, she saw someone drop a little bone necklace into the shopkeeper’s hand in return for a small carved figurine of a deer.

She felt Lexa brush up beside her. “Come, Klark. There is one place I think you will enjoy.”

Lexa led her into an art shop.

The walls were lined with pictures, done in charcoal, watercolor, paints, so vibrant and smooth that they looked unreal. Clarke gaped at them, reaching up to trace her fingers along a painted river flowing across. The texture was rough and layered, the foam sticking off the page just a bit more than the rest of it. She heard Lexa talking to the shopkeeper behind her but didn’t pay any attention to what they were saying. Walking through the racks of paintings, they were all she could focus on.

She paused at one. This was of Lexa. She was covered in thick armor, her red sash flowing out behind her, flames lighting it up. Lexa held balls of flame in her hand, the background being a reddish-brown background that looked more volcanic than anything she’d ever seen. Lexa’s face was covered in black warpaint, making her look terrifyingly striking.

She heard a laugh from behind her. “You will find multiple paintings of myself, I am sure. The commanders are viewed more like gods than humans, even myself. Some even say the commanders are the fire spirit itself.”

“Do you believe that?”

“No. I am Heda because I killed children, not because I’m a goddess.” Lexa’s lip curled. “I would much rather have ascended that way.”

“You did what you had to do.” Clarke sighed. “Why were you chosen to be commander?”

“I am a natblida. All natblidas are trained from a young age until the commander dies, in which they will fight to the death. The winner ascends to be commander and the hunt for a new generation of natblidas begins.”

Clarke winced. “Are all the natblidas fayahakas?”

“There are only two fayahakas in this generation, but there has never been a commander who was not one. The most promising of the natblidas is one.” Lexa’s lips twitched up into a grin. “You will have to meet them sometime. You will adore them.”

“How young are they?”

“The oldest is thirteen. The youngest is ten.”

Clarke felt a pang in her heart. “And they have to kill each other.”

“When I die, yes. I wish it did not have to be that way.” Lexa sighed. “I have suggested changing the tradition multiple times, but no one else agrees with me. It is a show of strength, they say.” She exhaled, reaching to the back of her neck.

Clarke rested a hand on Lexa’s bicep. “I’m sorry you had to do that, but you had no choice.”

“I did.” Lexa’s eyes unfocused as she thought back. “There were eight other natblidas in my generation, and contrary to belief, I was not the top of my class. There was another girl who could beat everyone she fought, including myself. I looked up to her as an older sister. When the conclave came, each fought our way through the other children. When it came time to fight each other, she fled. Disappeared from Polis. She didn’t resurface until two years ago as the leader of the floudonkru.”

“Two years ago? How long have you been Heda for?”

“I have been Heda for eight years. I ascended when I was twelve summers.”

“Twelve years,” Clarke murmured. She squeezed Lexa’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It is something I regret, but to be stuck on their death would be to dishonor them. I can only be the best I can be.”

Clarke smiled softly at her. “And you are. You’re possibly the only person who actually treats me like a human here. Even at Arkadia, I was treated like a child, scolded for trying to be my own person. So thank you, Lexa. I’m sure the other novitiates are proud of what you’ve done with their sacrifice.”

Lexa chuckled quietly, her eyes glistening. She had a sad smile on her face that made Clarke’s bones ache. Lexa made her feel in a way no one ever had.

It was addictive.

They continued to meet outside every day. When Lexa started to get behind on her duties, they resigned to meeting after dinner in Clarke’s rooms like they had the first couple days.

Clarke couldn’t get enough of her. Lexa’s nightly visits were the highlight of her day. When they were alone, Lexa could strip off parts of her mask, and Clarke was slowly getting her to remove more and more. Beneath it all, Lexa was just a young girl who wanted to enjoy her life.

Clarke had basically mastered her powers. Drawing from her energy reserve took barely even a thought now and manipulating the light took just a twitch of her finger. Clarke was obsessed with it, and Lexa was too, though she didn’t let it stop her from lighting all the candles in the room whenever she came in.

They had draped themselves across the couch in Clarke’s solar, Lexa complaining about her work and Clarke listening intently. “The ambassadors refuse to see sense,” she groaned, making abstract shapes in the air with her fire. “Louwoda Kliron is complaining that they are outgrowing their land and is demanding that Yujleda surrender a portion of theirs. They are demanding too much for too little a price and refuse to negotiate past that.”

“Did they decide that?”

“No. I ended the meeting before it could escalate.” She dropped her head onto the back of the couch, sighing heavily. “The ambassadors will be returning to their clans in three days' time to make their seasonal report, thank the spirits. I will have almost a fortnight without them.”

“Why so long?” At Lexa’s scalding look, Clarke corrected herself. “Not that I’m complaining, but why would they be gone for so long?”

“Because the Ingranrona Kru are almost a week’s ride away from Polis. It is a break I have been looking forward to since the last one ended.”

Clarke snorted, leaning close enough that their shoulders brushed and adding a strand of light to Lexa’s dance. Lexa gave her an amused look, twirling her fire around the white ribbon. Clarke condensed it into a thicker glow and escaped from its fiery cage, brushing the edge of the flames.

Lexa paused. “Wait. Do that again.”

“Do what again?”

“Just keep still,” she commanded. Clarke balled up her light and held it in place. Lexa prodded at the light with her fire. Nothing happened. Lexa sighed.

“What are you trying to do?” Clarke asked softly.

“I just… thought I saw something. It was probably nothing.” She shook her head.

Clarke looked up at the disappearing stroke of fire. “Wait.”

Lexa looked up. “What?”

“Put the fire back.”

Lexa frowned but did as she asked. Clarke took her little globe of light and it flowed right into the core of the fire. It glowed white, the fire softening into a warm gold.

Clarke hummed. “That’s pretty cool.”

Lexa’s brows furrowed. “Cool? It is fire. Fire is not cold.”

Clarke chuckled. “No, no, not like that. It’s Skaikru slang. It means ‘amazing’ or ‘interesting.’”

“Then yes, I suppose it is ‘cool.’” Clarke grinned. Hearing Lexa say something like that wasn’t something she’d ever expected to hear.

A loud clang alerted them that the twenty-first candlemark had hit. Lexa sighed. “I must go.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Clarke said, standing up and offering Lexa a hand. She took it. Instead of releasing immediately after, Lexa tightened her hold and, after a moment of hesitation, leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Clarke’s cheek. She left with a small smile gracing her face.

Clarke stood in place for a couple minutes after Lexa was gone. She reached up and touched the spot Lexa had kissed, staring at the door, stunned into silence. The commander of the twelve clans just kissed her. Lexa just kissed her.

She couldn’t think of a better way to end her evening.

Lexa came an hour later than usual the next day. She refused to meet Clarke’s eyes when she let her in.

“I’ve arranged for you to meet the natblidas,” Lexa said, standing by the couch awkwardly. “You had said you’d like to meet them, so I had it arranged. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Clarke said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees.

Lexa fidgeted, her gaze down at the floor. Clarke took note of her flushed cheeks. “Wonderful. I, um, will retrieve you tomorrow at the fourteenth candlemark. If that’s okay.”

“It’s perfect.” Clarke shifted closer, reaching out to skim her fingers over Lexa’s wrist. She flinched. “Lexa, look at me. Please. You’re acting odd.”

“I’m probably just tired.” Lexa backed away from the couch. “I should retire. Goodnight, Klark.”

“Lexa, wait.” Clarke stood, walking over to her. “Look at me. Beja, Lexa. You don’t need to hide from me.”

Lexa took a shuddering breath, angling her face away. Clarke rested a hand on the small of her back, feeling her stiffen under her touch. “Lexa.”

Lexa spun around suddenly, making Clarke stumble back. “What?” She demanded, her eyes red, lips trembling. “What do you want?”

“I want to help you.” Clarke stepped closer, carefully taking one of Lexa’s hands in hers. She shook and Clarke wrapped both hands around it. She sought out her eyes, forest green, which were looking everywhere but Clarke. “Tell me what’s wrong, love.”

Lexa’s eyes flickered up to her face, widening in surprise. Clarke understood then. Understood what Lexa wanted but was too afraid to ask for. What she was afraid of facing. Something Clarke was afraid of, too. But she would take the plunge. For both of them.

Clarke reached up and rested a hand lightly on Lexa’s cheek. She brushed her thumb over the corner of her lips, watching Lexa’s eyes dart between her face and the floor. Clarke slipped the hand beneath her chin, tilting her head up, angling her head slightly. Leaning in, she brushed their lips lightly. It was light, barely felt, but she tilted forward again, the feather of a touch merging into a kiss.

Lexa didn’t move for a moment, her body stock still, until with a single breath she practically melted. Their bodies melded together, sliding into place like two pieces of a puzzle. Clarke released Lexa’s hand, wrapping her arm around her waist and tugging her closer, the other hand massaging her jaw. Lexa’s hands wandered up, hesitantly brushing over Clarke’s shoulders, but Clarke squeezed Lexa closer and she relented, wrapping her arms around her neck.

They broke apart, panting, Lexa with tears dripping down her face. Clarke brushed them away, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Are you alright, love?”

Lexa closed her eyes at the pet name, leaning into Clarke’s hand. She hummed. “Mhm.”

Clarke felt her heart racing, threatening to beat out of her chest. She’d just kissed Lexa. God, she couldn’t process it. She hadn’t even been here a fortnight and she’d just kissed the commander. The fucking commander. Though at the moment, it wasn’t the commander she held in her arms, soft, warm, heavy.

Clarke led her back over to the couch, sitting down and pulling Lexa down on top of her. Lexa pressed a messy kiss to her cheek, arms tightening around her neck. Clarke brushed her lips over Lexa’s jawline, mouthing at the sharp jut that made her look so damn tough. Lexa groaned, dropping her head onto Clarke’s shoulder.

Clarke tore herself away from her neck, sitting back against the couch, keeping her arms loosely wrapped around Lexa’s waist. Lexa sat back as well, fingers twirling the baby hairs on the back of her neck. On her face was a wide grin. Sparks flew off of her, a section of her hair catching aflame. Clarke chuckled, patting it out. “You’re sparking, love.”

Lexa bit her lip. “And you’re glowing, hodnes.” Clarke scowled and Lexa dug her teeth into her lip to keep herself from giggling. She was the commander. She did not giggle.

Clarke leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her nose. “You like me?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “Then it’s obvious that I like you?”

“Mm, I should hope so.” Lexa brought a hand around to stroke down her face. “You’re stunning, ai soncha. It was hard to keep my hands off you.”

Clarke exhaled with a small puff. “If I’d known you wouldn’t kill me for it I would have had my hands on you a long time ago.” She laughed quietly. “And to think that only two weeks ago I thought the commander was some giant, rough scar-faced man who would kill me on sight.” The absurdity of it all only made her laugh harder. “And now I have the commander sitting in my lap, a beautiful, terrifying woman who I can’t fucking resist.”

Lexa sighed, nuzzling her nose into Clarke’s cheek. “Flatterer.”

“It’s true. You’re lovely.” Lexa purred, kissing her neck. Clarke groaned as she started nipping at her skin. “Lexa, we should talk about this-”

“Later.” She lapped at the red skin she left after a particularly harsh bite. “Let us enjoy this. Just this moment.”

And how could she resist?

Lexa left a half hour later. Clarke’s mind was blurry and dizzy and she swore she couldn’t see straight.

They hadn’t had sex or anything; Clarke wasn’t at all prepared for that. It was all touches and kisses and caresses and the affection that they both had been denied for too long.

They hadn’t talked. About what this meant. About what it would do to them. About how it would work with them being who they were - an intruder skai girl and the grounder commander. An odd couple, to be sure.

Lexa came by at the fourteenth candlemark the following day, just as she had promised. The smiles they shared were different. More open and affectionate. Happier.

“The natblidas come up here to train every day,” Lexa told Clarke as they stood hundreds of feet above the city, the view even more impressive with the addition of the commander tower. “Usually Titus trains them, as I normally have duties to attend to, but the ambassadors departed today, so I offered to take over.” A smile graced her face. “The natblidas hold a place close to me.”

Clarke reached over and took her hand. “I’m excited to meet them.”

Lexa squeezed her hand. “You’ll love them. They’ll love you, too. Children are much more open-minded than adults. They won’t let your clan get in the way of who you are.”

Clarke huffed. “That’d be a first.” She raised an eyebrow at Lexa’s look. “You can’t deny that it doesn’t matter to you. It does. It matters to us.”

“I wish it didn’t,” she sighed. “For me to take you would make me look weak because you are an outsider. And I doubt your people would appreciate it either.”

“Fuck what my people have to say. They aren’t here right now.” She leaned closer. “And yours aren’t here right now, either.”

Lexa gave her an amused glance. “As much as I want to, the natblidas are here. We will have time later.”

“You’d better keep that promise.” The greenery behind them rustled and the two separated. The first to walk into the clearing was a boy, only a couple of inches shorter than Clarke, with tousled blonde-red hair and pale skin. He had slim muscle packed into his arms and legs, a show of strength despite his skinniness. He grinned. “Heda! You have not visited in a while!”

“I know. I apologize. I’ve been busy,” Lexa said, stepping forward to hug him. Six other kids crowded around her, the youngest clinging to her arm. Clarke almost cooed.

“Heda, who’s she?” All eyes turned to Clarke. She shifted her weight, smiling nervously.

Lexa ruffled the young girl’s hair. “This is Klark. You may have heard of her. She is Skaikru.”

Aden was the first to step forward. “Pleasure to meet you, Klark kom Skaikru. I am Aden kom Podakru.”

Clarke relaxed. “The pleasure’s all mine, Aden.”

He smiled at her. The other six natblidas introduced themselves, no two being from the same clan. Clarke was particularly drawn to a young brunette girl of eleven from the Sankru named Kalya. The young girl seemed genuinely happy to meet her, offering her arm in greeting, a sign of respect among their culture.

Lexa herded them away to train them and Clarke watched from the sides. First, Lexa fought each of them individually. Aden was the only one who got a hit on her; likely why Lexa claimed he was the most likely successor. It was incredible to see how they fought with their powers. Water, electricity, earth, fire, each of them had a beauty to them. Electricity was like a bullet; if you didn't know it was coming you couldn’t dodge it. Water was smooth and flowing; not solid but a good way to disorient. Earth made the entire arena a tricky place to maneuver. The ground would jut out or retract in, not something that happened quick but deadly if you didn’t avoid it. Fire was a whole different story.

Lexa and Aden fought with fire. It was a deadly dance, both fighting for control. Aden would lash out and Lexa would snap it away, sending her own projectile. Fire couldn’t hurt either of them but it could burn through armor, melt weapons if hot enough and could act as a blindfold. By the time Aden was down, the entire clearing was filled with smoke.

After that, they paired up to fight, Lexa working with one herself. She was harsh in her teachings but always kept her students safety in mind.

When it was all over, most of them collapsed to the ground to rest. Lexa walked back to her, slick with sweat that made Clarke’s core pulse. She leaned over, muttering in her ear. “You’re hot when you’re all sweaty.”

Lexa furrowed her brows. “Hot? Of course. Exercise always warms the body.”

Clarke snuffed a laugh. “That’s not what I meant.” She leaned back in. “In our culture, ‘hot’ means attractive.”

Lexa flushed. “Oh.”

Clarke snorted, shifting slightly away to a more respectable distance. One of the natblidas came over to them. “Heda, why did you bring the skaigada?” The other nightbloods crowded closer to hear her answer.

Lexa rested a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “I wanted you to meet her. Klark has become a friend of mine. I thought you would like her.”

The youngest, a boy of Asian descent from the plain riders, tugged on her sleeve. “Can you tell us about Skaikru?”

Clarke smiled. “Of course. What do you wish to know?”

Clarke spent a good part of the next half-hour talking to them about Arkadia and the Ark. They seemed horrified at her life. “You don’t have keryonakas?”

She shook her head. “No. I didn’t even know such a thing existed until I came here.”

“So you don’t have a spirit?”

Clarke sent Lexa a questioning glance. Lexa’s eyes flickered to the nightbloods and she nodded.

“I do,” Clarke said. “Lexa taught me how to find it.”

“What are you?” The young boy was bouncing on his heels. “I bet you’re a wodahaka.”

“I think she’s a graunhaka!”

They turned eagerly back to her. “Which one are you?”

She chuckled. “Neither. Nor am I a fayahaka or a strakahaka.” She pulled out of the air a globe of white light, like a mini star held in her palm. “I am what you might call a sonchaka.”

“A light-maker.” Aden stepped forward, eyes wide. He reached forward. “Can I?” Clarke pushed the globe to him.

His fingers slipped right through it without any resistance. His face filled with wonder as the light trailed after his fingertips when he retreated. The other children pushed closer to get a better view.

Clarke pulled out a ribbon of light, twirling it around Kalya and making her look like some sort of ethereal goddess. She laughed, reaching up to touch the swirling glow. It recoiled from her touch, forming into a little fox and nuzzling her palm before dissipating.

She released more ribbons, the light spiraling around the clearing, dipping up and down and in and out. Lexa held up a hand, tendrils of flame joining in with the light show. Her fire sparked into a golden hue. The natblidas gaped at the impressive display of power.

Clarke pulled back, feeling the use of so much power take its toll on her. Lexa drew hers back as well, stepping up beside her. “Listen to me. You cannot tell anyone about this. I trust all of you to understand the importance of keeping this hidden.” The natblidas nodded along with Lexa’s words. “Good. Now, I believe you are late to Titus’s lessons. Tell him if he has a problem to take it up with me.”

The children rushed off, hastily saying their goodbyes to Clarke. Silence fell quickly.

Lexa reached out to grab her hand, not saying anything. Clarke turned to her. “You really want to deal with Titus?”

Lexa laughed at that, a sound that made Clarke smile widely. “Nobody wants to deal with Titus, but if anyone is to do it I might as well be it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.” Clarke tugged her closer, planting a messy kiss on her cheek. “You’re young. You should live your life, not be weighed down by the needs of the people.”

“And yet that is the life that was chosen for me the moment I was born.” She wiped a drop of black blood off of her face, where a small cut sat on her cheek just beneath her eye. “I was cursed with nightblood. It was my destiny to ascend or die.”

“Has a commander ever retired?”

“Retired? No. They die before they can.” She sighed. “I imagine it would be impossible to retire anyway. If I did somehow manage to grow old, I would be assassinated for being weak. If I tried to retire, I would be assassinated for being weak.”

Clarke hooked their arms together. “Maybe once you get your peace you can work toward fixing that. Fixing your stupid weakness rule.”

“It is not stupid, Klark,” Lexa complained. “It keeps us strong. The weak die, the strong live on.”

“What do you consider weak? Sickness? Injury? Wanting to relax for a single fucking minute?”

“You’re right,” she admitted. “It is flawed in that sense. But we’ll deal with that when we get there.”

Clarke smiled. “I like the sound of that. We.”

Lexa turned to her. “Does that mean you wish to stay here?”

It was something she’d had on her mind for a while now. When she’d have to return. “I wish I could. I hope I can. But I can’t just leave my family and friends behind.”

Lexa’s happy expression dropped a bit. “I understand.”

“Hey, love, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. I want to. But I have an obligation to my people, just as you do to yours.”

Lexa smiled shyly. “Perhaps we can incorporate Skaikru into our peace. From what you have told me of their capabilities, they would be valuable trade partners, and your fayagons would be a useful long-range weapon of war if one were to come about.”

Clarke grinned and leaned over to press a kiss onto her lips. “I would love that. I’m sure my people would, too.”

Lexa’s smile widened and she surged forward, catching her lips once more.

It would be some time before they returned to the city.

Lexa visited her that night as usual. Her dress was different.

She wasn’t in her usual commander coat and armor, instead dressed in a thin nightgown with a long slit in the leg. Clarke let her in, eyes wandering, but Lexa didn’t care. Almost as if she’d done it on purpose. She probably had.

The first thing Clarke did was pull her down onto her lap, pulling her in for a proper kiss. Lexa grunted, mouth parting slightly, and kissed back, shifting to straddle her hips. Clarke rested a hand on Lexa’s leg, feeling the bare skin that radiated warmth on the cool evening. The other hand slipped into Lexa’s hair, scratching at her scalp. Lexa purred, smiling into the kiss.

Lexa pulled away first, hands resting on either side of Clarke’s neck. “Klark, how can we do this?”

“Hmm?” Clarke hummed, her mind still slightly disoriented from the sudden rush of attraction.

“Our relationship. How can we manage it?” Lexa rested her cheek against Clarke’s temple. “Our people will both despise it, and they already hate each other. Along with the fact that you cannot stay here forever and it will be hard for you to come back.”

Clarke sighed. “I know. This can’t end well, not as it is now. I’ll have to leave soon, and you’ll be alone here again, and I’ll be locked up in Arkadia again. So let’s just enjoy this while it lasts.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Lexa said sadly. “It will have to be enough, won’t it?”

Clarke didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

Lexa pulled away, their lips meeting ever so gently. With such thoughts at the front of their minds, they remained gentle and light, but it became a mere afterthought within the throngs of their affection.

Lexa wasn’t a very touchy-feely person, but Clarke was completely hands-on. She traced muscles through the gown, slipped a hand to her arm to feel the raised flesh of the tattoo, of which Clarke had never seen. She’d have to ask Lexa about her tattoos later.

Clarke prodded at Lexa’s lower lip with her tongue, skimming over it with her teeth. Lexa obediently parted her lips, allowing Clarke to feel her out. She bit down lightly on her tongue and Clarke dug her nails into Lexa’s arm. She let out a low moan, sinking down into her.

Clarke pulled back, eyes dark with lust. Evaluating Lexa’s behavior, she hoped she was reading this right. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against her ear. “I want you to sit still like a good girl and take what I give.”

Lexa shivered, a gasp escaping her mouth. She nodded quickly, arms tightening around Clarke’s neck. Clarke kissed her on the lips and snagged her fingers in Lexa’s hair, tilting her head to the side. She began planting kisses up and down her jawline, sucking on her pulse point enough to leave the faintest of marks. It wouldn’t do to ruin the commander’s reputation.

Clarke kissed up and down her neck, nipping and sucking on the soft, delicate skin of her throat. Her free hand went to Lexa’s back, splaying across the bare skin to hold her tight. This was the first time she’d ever been in a relationship even remotely sexual, and she was surprised at how naturally her dominance came through.

Who would’ve thought the commander would be a damn sub.

Someone knocked on the door to Clarke’s room an hour after breakfast.

A handmaiden was standing at the door. “Klark kom Skaikru,” she began, dipping her head. “I come with a message from the commander.”

“What is it?”

“You must collect your things,” she said. “Heda has gifted you this sak to carry anything you wish to take with you. She says you will be departing in a candlemark.”

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows. “Did she say where I am going?”

“She gave no hint of the destination or purpose.”

Clarke nodded stiffly. “Thank you.” The handmaiden bowed slightly and turned to leave. Clarke closed the door, leaning her forehead against the thick, rich wood.

She was leaving Polis. Likely being delivered back to her people. Why? She doubted Lexa would make this decision without consulting her first unless there was something else playing into it. Had something happened?

She had no way to get her answers. She grabbed a change of clothes, her drawings, and, as a last minute thought, grabbed Lexa’s other gifts. The watercolors and the keryon books. She hoped she was allowed to take those.

The better part of the hour was spent pacing her room in silence. Her steps weighed heavy on the floor, her face scrunched up in thought as she went over the various scenarios of what could be happening. Did it have to with Skaikru? With Polis? The Kongeda? The questions rang in her mind with no way of answering them.

Another handmaiden came to fetch her, leading her outside of the tower and to a building at the edge of the city. It was a stable, filled with the smells and sounds of horses.

There were a dozen horses outside, all tacked up and ready to depart. All of the riders were warriors except one.

Clarke strode over. “Lexa,” she said quietly. The girl looked up from where she had been securing the horse’s girth. “What is going on?”

“I’ll tell you on the way. We have to arrive as soon as possible.” Lexa handed her the reins to a sturdy chestnut mare and turned to address the entire party. “Mount up.”

Clarke had to hold the stirrup in place with her hands to be able to get her foot in and swing herself over. Luckily, the mare was small, just short enough that she could do it herself, which saved her a bit of dignity. Lexa sat tall on her dark stallion, nodding for Clarke to flank her.

They rode out of Polis, pushing the pace to a slow lope. Lexa fell back to ride beside Clarke. “A messenger just arrived from Onya this morning. The Skaikru have been searching for you, and have begun to extend their search outside of their territory. Patrols on the border have turned them back, but they grow persistent. We fear they will turn to violence if you are not returned to them.”

It wasn’t until then that Clarke understood what she had been doing to them, staying in Polis. She’d known it wouldn’t do to live away from her family and friends, but she hadn’t considered the immediate consequences. They’d assume the worst. Most of them already hated the tribes, and if they thought the Trikru had kidnapped her…

Okay, technically, they had kidnapped her. But no one needed to know that.

The message had been vague, so Lexa couldn’t tell her much more than that. They rode side by side, occasionally picking up small talk but keeping a comfortable silence for the majority of the ride. They stopped every hour or so to rest the horses, slowing to a trot as the sun began to dip closer to the horizon.

They camped for the night by the riverside, the ground flattened by two graunhaka warriors in a way that she recognized had been done by Anya on their journey to Polis. She hadn’t realized how much the grounders depended on their powers to get things done more efficiently. Lexa sparked up an easy flame, adjusting it as needed to cook the deer meat to perfection. The water was purified by one of the wodahakas and the horses were given fresh patches of some of the best foods just grown from the ground.

Clarke discreetly lit up the tips of her fingers, letting the glow dance over her hand. She wondered about what it would mean for her back home.

She and Lexa didn’t have a single moment alone the entire four days it took to travel to TonDC. By the time they arrived, Clarke was aching for her in a way that seemed impossible.

They arrived back at dusk, setting up tents just beside the village walls. Most people gave them warm greetings, but Anya was less than pleased to see Clarke. “It is her fault we are in this situation in the first place,” she argued.

Clarke snorted. Anya scowled at her. “Have something to say, skaigada?”

“I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t forced me into custody.”

They could have gone back and forth for hours. Lexa knew that. She stopped it before it could even begin.

When they returned to their tents, Lexa tapped her wrist lightly and hooked their pinkies together, drawing her towards the commander’s tent.

Lexa sat down on the fur-covered cot and looked at Clarke. Clarke looked back. They both knew what this was.

This was goodbye.

Clarke walked toward her and removed her pauldron, setting it on a table behind her. Lexa stayed silent, hands ghosting over Clarke’s arms as she undid the many buckles of the commander’s coat, laying the heavy fabric on the table as well. She turned back, watching Lexa. Her eyes glistened and Clarke could feel tears pricking at the edges of hers as well. She leaned down, pressing her lips to Lexa’s forehead, hands coming up to cradle her face.

Lexa seemed to choke on her words. “Klark, I-”

“Shhhh,” Clarke mumbled, lips still against Lexa’s face. “No words. Not tonight. Nothing that will remind us of what is to come.”

Lexa wrapped her hands around Clarke’s wrists and squeezed lightly. Clarke sat down beside her and pulled her into a soft kiss, hands gentle and caring. Nothing of the hot passion they’d shared previous nights, and yet it was all the more powerful.

They fell asleep together in Lexa’s bed, shoes still on their feet, hair still braided tightly to the back of their heads, armor still strapped to their chests. When they woke once more come morning, neither moved, only soaking in the closeness of the other. Silently dreading what was to come.

Someone knocked on one of the poles of Lexa’s tent.

Clarke clutched Lexa tighter.

Their goodbyes outside are nothing short of formal protocol.

Lexa keeps her face schooled, chin raised high, though Clarke can see how her lower lip trembles, how her hands shake, how her eyes shine. She imagined she was much the same. Neither said more than was expected and Clarke was thankful. If Lexa had tried to say anything more, she wouldn’t have been able to keep her facade.

She was escorted to the border of Arkadia. Anya was thankful to be rid of her.

She walked alone back to the fallen Ark, feeling her heart close in on itself as the walls came into view. She pushed Lexa to the back of her mind. She knew she’d break down later when she was alone.

Someone called her name and people began to gather at the fences, looking out at her with surprise, relief, awe.

Her mother rushed up to the gates, standing just over the threshold. Raven and Octavia were there as well.

She was happy to see them. She would be, at least.

The flicker of the torchlight against their face only served to remind her of the red flames that spiraled from Lexa’s hands.

#clexaweek2020 #clexaweek2020 day 1 #Day 1 Forbidden Love #Forbidden Love #clexa fanfic #clexa deserved better

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cliodevotus · 5 years ago

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♡

hello! so, this is my first time writing some content for Tumblr and my first time writing imagine content for the rami malek tag, and i'm kinda nervous hehehe, since i'm a non-english speaker (i'm from Brazil) and i'm not that fluent in english. also, i've never watched The Pacific (guess who can't find it online for free? hehe), so all the character and the trait of Merriel here were based on other imagines i've read about him

so, i think... good lecture, i guess. aaa somebody help my i'm so nervous

word count: almost 2400 words ;

nothing here belongs to me, except the writing and the story, also the video credits goes to l0user (YouTube) ;

Mr. Shelter

《 Snafu Imagine 》

1945

Nobody was waiting for him at the train station. Even thought it hurted to think about, he knew it would be like this since he entered that goddamn ship that sealed to the Second Great War.

It was past 6PM in the afternoon when the train stopped at New Orleans and let some soldiers get down of it and go back to their family. But Merriel didn't have a family waiting for him, not even Jade was there for him, but he couldn't judge her, he knew it was his fault that she was given to a foster home and didn't even knew he went to war. He didn't even said goodbye to Eugene, because he didn't want to wake the poor boy up. So he get off the train like he appeared, quickly and in complete silence.

He couldn't stop thinking about that situation while he started to walk through the station, passing throught the bunch of couples and families receiving their boys and mans alive from that monstrous war. They at least had someone or a home of their own. But Merriel had nothing and nobody.

Well, he had actually one person, a girl to be more specific, but he was trying hard to not think about that girl. It was just a moony teenage romance, nothing that passed from it. She was probably married to some asshole right now and having to take care of at least 5 naughty children. He didn't liked to think that she was married to another guy, but he knew she wouldn't have waited for him for like... 5 years? God, that's a long time. She didn't even send him a letter. During those 5 years, he haven't received anything, not even a letter. It was hard to see the other boys cheering to some picture or letter that they've receive from their girlfriends and he had to pretend he didn't care.

The day was being consumed slowly by one of those starry nights in New Orleans. The train station looked so dark that Merriel had one hundred percent sure that it was dawn or even dusk, or maybe it was just his mind trying to convince him that being in the battleground was better than coming back "home".

He bumped into something; he was distracted, thinking about the whole thing about coming back home and walking at the same that he didn't even noticed that little kid crying in the middle of the street. With the shock, he let his bag fall and hit the ground, almost making him and the kid fall together. His fast movement allowed him to equilibrate and hold the kid at the same time, before both hit the ground.

"Ay kiddo! Careful. Whatcha doin' in the middle of the street like this? You're goin' to get hurt." Scolded the boy, but as soon as he heard the silent cry and sobs, he regreted being so hard with the kid. "Ay boy, are you okay?" The boy just sobbed louder. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The boy turned and looked at him; his appearance was something else. The curly hair, that blue greenish eyes and thin reddish lips. Merriel felt like he was looking at some kind of mirror or something. Even the olive skin was similar to his. Even shocked with his vision, he felt the necessity of making sure the boy was okay. "What happened, kiddo?"

The kid sniffed and showed what he was holding in both of his hands, a teddy bear without an arm in the left hand and an arm without a teddy bear in the right one. The boy sobbed again. "I, I ripped off it's arm accidentally. Mo-momma is going to be angry at me, i-it's her teddy bear a-and I took him out without permission!" The boy started crying and sobbing hard again. Merriel was shocked due the boy's confession.

"Ay, ay, ay. Kiddo, calm down, okay? Lemme see the teddy bear." He asked, while cowering in front of the boy.

The boy gave him the teddy bear, and sobbing, murmured. "Shelter, sir."

"What?"

"His name is Shelter, momma calls him like this."

"Oh." Agreed, looking again to the teddy bear, with a sad mien. "There's anythin' I can do for the poor Mr. Shelter, the teddy bear, maybe a needlewoman can fix, but I'm just a soldier, I can't do anythin' kiddo. Sorry." The boy started sobbing again. "Ay, calm down. The best you can do now is tell your mother what you've done and hope that she forgives you. Ok pal?" The kid calmed down and nodded, while rubbing his eyes full with tears with his hands. "So, here's Shelter." Gave to the kid the stuffed animal back and stand up, ready to start walking to nowhere when little hands grabbed his own big hands.

Merriel was a little surprised with the boy's propose on taking him back home to tell his mother about what he have done to the poor bear Shelter, and even more surprise when, without hesitation, he accepted the propose. The whole way back wasn't made in complete silence, because after Merriel said yes to that crazy propose, the little boy didn't stopped talking and making the 23 years old man speak and answear his questions; he talked a lot, and Merriel realized that their appearance wasn't the only similar thing between them both.

"You know, momma had Shelter even before I was born! It was a gift from her boyfriend, I think."

"A gift?"

"Yeah, she gained it from her boyfriend one week before he was gone. I think he won Shelter for her on some kind of game, she said it was on a 'county fair', and that it was one of the best gifts of her life!" The boy chuckled and keep telling the strange man about his life with his momma, but Merriel stopped listening. It couldn't be. He couldn't help thinking about the girl again; he remembered when he shot those stupid cans and won the skinny brown teddy bear that looked like the poor boy Shelter just to impress her. She was so happy and excited, looking like a child, when Merriel gave her the teddy bear that she even kissed his nose accidentally. He smiled with the memory of her soft lips at the same time the little boy stopped abruptly.

Merriel looked up and saw the house. It was really pretty, actually; two floors, pastel yellow with some white details on some parts of the roof and the delicatef fences of the porch, where some plants and a wooden bench were part of the decoration, and in front of the pretty house, there was the prettiest garden Merriel has ever seen in his entire life.

"Sir?" The boy called Merriel, who immediately stopped admiring the house. "Come with me and tell my momma what happened to Mr. Shelter? Please?"

Merriel sighed. "I can go with ya, but ya have to tell ya ma what you've done."

The boy agreed and they started walking in direction of the pastel yellow house. When the little boy opened the door, a feminine voice echoed from the kitchen. "Alle, is that you?"

Allesandro looked to Merriel, who signed to him to go talk to his momma. Allesandro agreed and entered the kitchen, letting the marine admiring the inside of the pastel yellow house; so clean and organised, full of books and delicate porcelain objects.

"Allesandro!" The feminine voice screaming from the kitchen got Merriel attention back. "What have I told you about taking my things without permission?"

Allesandro sobbed in the distance. "I-I'm sorry momma!"

"And how am I going to fix it now?" Merriel started walkung slowly in direction of the kitchen. The smell of meat and potato patties was the most attractive smell he have smelled in those five years.

Allesandro noticed when he entered the kitchen. "Bu-but he said he knows someone who can h-help!" And one hiccup escaped his mouth. Merriel was shocked when the mother turned to him. It was her, the girl he had been dreaming all over those five years.

He murmured with a whisper. "Y-Y/N?"

"Merriel?" You murmured the same tone as him. Oh God, you've been waiting for that moment for the past 5 years and now he was there, in front of you. You didn't even knew if he was alive, your father didn't let you have any contact with him after he was gone; and now he was there.

"W-why didn't you...?" He whispered, so low that nobody though himself could hear, but you heard. And it hurted. That sad look in his eyes broke your heart, you wanted so much to hug him and said that you were sorry for not writing him any letter even though you didn't have any idea where he was. "You...?"

"Merriel, I-..." You walked 'til him, putting Shelter, the bear, and his ripped arm over the table and totally forgetting about the meat and the potato patties in the oven. You stopped in front of him, wanting so bad to touch him, to kiss that thin lips that are so delicious and vicious again. "... you're back...!" And then you hugged him, feeling the yerning tears coming out of your eyes in abundance. You could feel that he wasn't expecting you to hug him, shocked by the fact that you still remembered him and even though you didn't send him any letter. "I'm so, so sorry! I-I thought of you every night ans wrote you a lot of letters, but my father, h-he..." Merriel hugged you tight, he kinda understood for a moment. Your father was always a little piece of shit with him, but he couldn't judge the old man; if Merriel's daughter started going out and spending time with some guy that was knew for being a troublemaker and a big trashmouth like him he would be pissed too.

"Momma." Allesandro said suddenly, interrupting the moment between you two. "Do you know him?"

You noticed when Merriel became tense looking at your son. He finally realised and you needed to act fast. "Allesandro, sweetheart, could you go to the living room watch some TV? Momma needs to talk with this man in particular."

Even though Allesandro wanted so bad to hear the conversation, he obeyed your order and went to the living room, turning on the TV on some random show. You supposed it was The World in Your Home.

It was weird to look at Merriel after all those years and having to have that conversation in the most inappropriated way. The smell of meat and potatoes patties suddenly remebered you from the dinner you were preparing before he came. When you approximated from the oven, you finally decided to speak. "I'm sorry, I didn't... I didn't knew you were coming back today, so the meal I prepared for dinner isn't the beast one for your homecoming." You joked, and he kinda gave you a quiet laugh.

He grabbed the chair from the dinner table. "So, Allesandro?" He looked in direction of the living room, where your son was watching TV. "You're now a mother, Y/N."

You could feel the pain in his voice. "I'm a mother." You could only say this.

"And his name is Allesandro. How old is he? Five?"

"Four, he'll be five next weekend." You sighted. It was now or never. "He was named like his father."

"Really?" You turned off the oven, finishing the dinner, and turned to him. He looked like he was about to cry, you didn't want this.

"Yes, Merriel Allesandro Shelton." Merriel looked at you surprised; you smiled, holding back your tears. "You're his father, Merriel."

Merriel chin trembled, and some tears were forming in his eyes. The prettiest and happiest smallest smile formed in his lips.

[ • ]

Allesandro was grounded in his bedroom. After the dinner (the meat and the potato patties were delicious), while you were washing the dishes you suddenly realized how weird that situation was. He brought Merriel to your house, even though Allesandro didn't even know him! Merriel, who was listening to his childish stories and trying to find the most passive way of telling Allesandro that he was the father of your son the same time he was trying to fix Mr. Shelter, realized that after you told Allesandro to go to his bedroom.

Allesandro, grounded in his bedroom, was quietly playing with a wooden car toy he has won from his grandpa in his birthday last year, when he heard in the distance the radio from the living room playing a song.

youtube

He was curious about what that radio was doing playing songs so late at the night, so, quietly like a robber, he went out of his room, walked through the corridor and went downstairs silently, like he didn't even existed. Allesandro walked tiptoe in direction to the living room, finally spying inside.

He saw you and Merriel dancing to the melodic voice of Kitty Kallen.

❝Never thought that you would be

standing here so close to me

There's so much I feel that I should say,

but words can wait until some other day❞

Allesandro admired you, his mother, dancing to that strange man so serenely, and smiled.

❝Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

Haven't felt like this, my dear

Since I can't remember when

It's been a long, long time❞

He hated when he was playing in his room and heard you crying above Mr. Shelter teddy bear calling Merriel's name; he planned it for weeks, making sure to find that man you loved so much just to see you happy. And now he realised: he did a good job bringing his daddy back home, even though he got grounded in the end and costed to the poor Mr. Shelter an arm. But making you happy while you're dancing with Merriel made those things look meaningless.

❝You'll never know how many dreams

I've dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long... long time...❞

#snafu #merriel shelton #merriell shelton #merriel shelton imagine #merriel shelton x reader #rami malek imagine #ma boi rami malek #rami malek #snafu deserved better #snafu imagine #snafu x reader #rami malek x reader #kiss me once then kiss me twice then kiss me once again its been a long timeee #this song is my jam god #kitty kallen #l0user #5 years #i hate putting gifs on tumblr holy mother

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youarejesting · 5 years ago

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BTS365 Prompts

[Masterlist]

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester.

Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

═══════ ೋღ ღೋ ═══════

April 23rd - 29th

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Kim Seokjin: DNA

You were visiting your friend. She had given you her address as you both had plans next week but you wanted to surprise her so you arrived early driving into the gated community. It was a whole town fenced off. Weird. You passed through security by dropping the name of your friend you were visiting and headed through.

You pulled up in a guest parking lot and walked to her house knocking. She grabbed you pulling you inside, “who knows you are here, did anyone see you?” “No but why is this place so cult-y I mean that rose business is everywhere the flags the buildings it’s even on that damn necklace you are wearing, if this is a cult I have to get you out. Don’t drink the kool aid”

She tried to rush you out the door telling you to get in your car and you both could leave, “look you have to go quickly out the way you came, if they find you I don’t know what will happen”

You were scared because she wasn’t joking there was no ‘haha just kidding’ no ‘April fools’ this was serious. She was serious. You went to race back to your car when you heard a chorus of howls. You were soon surrounded. By wolves? Pausing as they growled around you. A man coming out and leading you across town.

After the regular interrogation who are you, why are you here? You made it to a large building; it looked like a large frat house. You were led inside and to a door, standing there you smelt something pleasant, a soft jasmine, and cedar with a sharp fresh aqua. The moment you stepped inside you felt his presence, lowering your head like everyone else you felt weak. His back was to you and you didn’t know what was happening but the scent was all over the room and instead of being overpowering like axe body spray. This made your head fog up in the most pleasing ways.

“I heard you trespassed on our land sweetheart?” The word wasn’t spoken with endearment, as he pulled your chin up, your eyes caught his seeing a golden spark fill his dark eyes. He had stilled for a moment, your eyes scanned him over he was devilishly handsome and had broad shoulders, strong arms, his waist was thin and his legs firm. Your eyes met his once more realizing how you were blatantly ogling him. “Mine”

Min Yoongi: Pretzel

“Welcome everyone to the weekly CBM meeting, I see a lot of new faces so let's begin with introductions and why you are here?”

”Hello I am Kim Seokjin, I’m a werewolf, I have been coming here for three months because I accidentally shifted one night and my bonds broke, and they found me lying in the park and deemed it inappropriate. So now I spend every Wednesday for the next six months coming to Creature Behavior management”

“Hi I am Jung Hoseok I um saved a girl from drowning and swam her up to the beach but when I pulled her out of the water and shifted back I had no pants and her father beat me and I am here to prove I am good and I mean I get to meet new friends so it can’t be too bad right?” “I am Min Yoongi, a Zombie, strictly vegetarian, I just wanted a pretzel and apparently it’s considered inappropriate to threaten to eat someone if they try to push in line”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that and the zombie looked at you across the room swinging your legs back and forth on the chair. “I would let you eat me” You giggled watching his pale undead cheeks stain a dark grey. “My name is Y/N and apparently refusing to let a guy get you a drink at a house party makes me a tease and when you refuse their advances, they try to take you to the bedroom anyway, Yet when you refuse again publicly they accuse you of using your succubus powers on them. Then when you actually use your powers on them and force them to make out with one another, they don’t seem to like that”

“Ahh... my undead heart, you are my soulmate.” Yoongi laughed along with everyone in the circle muttering under his breath quietly but you still were able to catch it. “Marry me” “Okay bring the documents baby we can get married” You smiled and he lent forward licking his lips eyeing you up and down.

“How's next Wednesday for you?” “I will wear my best dress” You winked at him and he snapped his teeth back at you.

Jung Hoseok: Scale

Your father was a fisherman, and you spent your childhood years on the water. Sitting on the bowsprit legs dangling as you sang songs dreaming of pirates and mermaids and sea monsters. You would sing songs you made up and sometimes when you looked really hard you could see figures moving under the water. It was all the brilliance of a childhood imagination. But here you were years later a young lady home from the city, your father readied the boat some of the fishermen were new and some of their eyes lingered a little too long for your liking.

You sat on the bowsprit singing the old songs from when you were a kid, it was nostalgia and you remembered every word. Arriving at the usual fishing spot you swear you saw something move under the water. You grinned as your childish wonder had obviously come back to greet you.

You continued singing and playing on the ship sticking to the bow you loved looking over. The waves picked up but they did it so often you barely shifted. Your sea legs had long since been of use. “You might want to go in girl if it’s too scary for you”

You rolled your eyes standing and walking down the bowsprit like it was a tightrope grabbing the thick metal cord standing on the very edge. You were happily spinning around the cord when you definitely saw what looked like a torso. You saw it again. “Man overboard” You called across the boat. Everyone scrambled and you jumped in after him.

Just as you reached the area you had seen him he was gone, you turned to face a giant wave taking a deep breath.

You were pushed down hitting the side of the boat you tried to swim but the force of the wave was so strong. Arms wrapped around you and your eyes flew open seeing him the man in the water he looked oddly familiar. He swam quickly to the surface and held you there to breath.

“I never thought I would see you again,” he grinned and you felt the heat in your cheeks. “You used to sing all the time here, oh there is another wave hold your breath or whatever human thing you do” he tucked you against him and swam quickly under the wave.

You felt him rolling his hips against you and you tried to push him away, you had just met what the hell does he think he is doing. Looking down your eyes widened and looked away quickly. He wasn’t trying anything with you, the roll of his hips was how he swam. He was an actual real life mermaid. “Hang in there darling, I will bring you to the surface” he swam you to the boat.

Kim Namjoon: Pin

Watching the streets, the humans were getting smarter, locking themselves away at night, but what was this? A little girl walking the streets no more than four or five calling out for her mummy. Taehyung held his hand up telling his men to wait now wasn’t the time to strike; they had to be patient. “Mummy” she called crying, she tripped the scent of blood filled the air as she had scraped her knee. She cried hysterically and the door opened.

“Darling are you hurt?” The girl nodded, tears pouring down her face, her little heart beating hard from the hysteria. “Come to me okay” she whispered and the little girl got up and walked over. Taehyung signaled to his people and they dropped down from the roof into the shadows.

“They are coming Abigail bring the girl inside” “Where is my mummy?” She cried “please my mummy?” Men came out guns pointed at the red eyes glowing from the shadows, “is she human?” “She is bleeding, vampires don’t bleed” “Come inside sweetheart” the woman said and the vampires started to attack each human was captured and tied, each dragged back to the castle. “We brought dinner sir?”

“Shut that child up” Namjoon waved his hand and Taehyung did just that and the room fell silent as her body fell limp on the floor. “Okay not only did you steal my prey you snapped my neck?” The little girl shouted and with a loud crack her neck sat normally on her shoulders. She stood up, form changing from a child to an adult. “I spent years perfecting my skills of shape shifting to lure people out and you want to steal my kill.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened, “Restrain her” and she was taken to the cells except being a shapeshifter it didn’t last long even if it was bars of silver. Namjoon was in an important meeting when a cat jumped onto his desk and transformed into that woman again. He leaned back in his chair pissed, she talked too much. His hand gripped around her throat tightly and she smiled unaffected despite the little uptick in her artificially beating heart.

“You can’t kill me” she scoffed “I can damn well try”

Park Jimin: Zipper

Running through the forest on your early morning jog, you let your mind wander. The music in your ears takes you away to another world as you put one foot in front of the other. Before long you realized something was wrong you weren’t on the path.

The tree’s were dense, the air cold and your music cut out your phone battery dying, something was seriously wrong. Walking along scared this is when someone either dies or the early morning jogger finds a dead body, it’s always the joggers. What did they ever do?

The sky darkened and it started to rain, an hour lost became two, three, four until the small glow behind the rain clouds disappeared and it rained on through the night. You were cold but you kept stumbling around looking for the path looking for something.

There was a light in the distance and you strode over without hesitation, behind you it sounded as if someone was singing it was beautiful too beautiful for a creepy night in the forest. You continued toward the fire but the singing got louder.

The voice was angelic and it almost pulled you away but the thought of warm fire kept luring you in. It was a camp, there was a fire and a big pot over it, there were people walking around. On closer inspection the people looked unnaturally long and thin and all you could smell was a bitter rotten scent. You almost stepped into the camp when you noticed hoof prints in the mud. All too soon you realized the singing had stopped when a hand covered your mouth you couldn’t move your body frozen.

“Shh, don’t make a sound or they will kill you” the angelic voice whispered gently singing and walking you backwards. You were entranced by the words flooding your mind and making your head spin. The figure behind you tripped and you fell with an audible groan.

“Run” he grabbed your hand taking off through the trees, those things roared and you heard loud hooves and grunts that seemed so close to you.

The man in front of you was wearing a cloak and had such an agile form he moved like a serpent or cat so smooth and graceful. His body Zipping in and out of the trees, unlike you, who stumbled and tripped hitting every branch along the way. The screech behind you sent chills up your spine and you started to turn to look behind you.

“Don’t look at them! just keep moving we are almost there” Wherever there was you were unsure. There was a weird feeling like you had just dived into warm water and you felt safe and he slowed down.

“We are safe here, come inside you are all wet I will get you some clean dry clothes” he returned and you saw just how beautiful he was. “Please don’t look at me, I know I am nothing like the men you are use to, tall, strong, bearded protectors like that with broad shoulders and big muscles, it’s just Fae are smaller with weird features so I am just”

“Beautiful” you whispered your words shocking him.

Kim Taehyung: Honesty

Kim Taehyung had lived in the elven city all his life and was a little odd for an Elf. His features were a little different for any normal elf as well, his ears stuck out a little more and his features weren’t as pointed as the other elves. He had a strange view of the world and didn’t think the same way as everyone else. For one he was too playful for any young adult elf, he was expected to be more mature for his age and two he had a wolf companion. Mind you it was a tiny thing, a runt of its litter and super fluffy with dark fur that shone in the sun. All this wasn’t passable for a common elf but to make matters worse. He was Prince Taehyung, the middle child he had one older brother and one younger sister.

Walking into the city you were confused, Your parents wanted to unite the kingdom’s and have you marry someone of the royal family. You hated it, of course you had been disciplined every day to act like an elf but you didn’t want to live your life stifled by propriety and poise. You reluctantly waved out the window and stepped out in your frankly too big dress, your father greeted the other elven King and you saw the first Prince step forward and kiss your hand like a gentleman but you hated it he was textbook royalty and just as you hid your disdain behind your lace fan another prince ran in his hair a mess of twigs and from his knees down was just mud and grass stains and following his muddy footprints was a tiny fluffy wolf trailing his own paw prints across the marble floor.

“Please forgive my son” the queen turned to her son and gestured for him to leave and he bit his lip looking upset. “How about we adjourn to the dining room for some refreshments?”

“I would like to bide in my room, if you could kindly escort me whilst on your way to your Quarters? I need some time to collect my bearings after such a long journey?” You used your fake princess act and the younger prince nodded looking slightly alarmed at his family, his mother nodding earnestly and he swallowed, gesturing down the hall.

“I deeply apologize for my current disheveled appearance, I was in the garden” “Your hands seem clean?” You said curiously “I was wearing gloves” he grinned “Ah gloves” Once out of sight you bent down “And who is your tiny companion?” The wolf jumped up placing his dirty paws on your dress.

“Princess!” He looked ashamed “Your gown” “Oh well, it is dirty now, what's a little more?” “Princess I must implore” His voice came out more like a deep childish whine and you couldn’t help the elated feeling it brought you. “Implore all you wish, but I will not yield”

“Stubbornness is unbecoming of a Princess” “Do you know much about being a Princess?” “Sadly my knowledge in that area is limited, but, I believe it shan't be different from the wonders of being a prince.” “You too recite somber balladry and compressing yourself into derisory bodices”

“I don’t know what you just said but it sounded fancy” He smiled sheepishly. “Can we drop the act, I feel you hate being royalty as much as I do” “If I am honest there are not enough fanciful words that can express my loathing for being born royal, I am a laughing stock of the village Prince Taehyung thank the stars he is the second brother he is as odd as he is odd looking”

“I think you are handsome, more so than your brother, I would love to bask in your very presence and gaze upon the pleasantness that is your beauty. Perhaps we should switch places and you can be Princess y/n” “Your room Prince Taehyung?” He grinned

“I see Shall I escort you, to your room Princess y/n?” “How kind of you but I am simply at the end of the hall, do not trouble yourself?” “When we have composed ourselves and our outfits, Can I have the pleasure of escorting you around the uh courtyard perhaps?”

“Perhaps the library instead, if I am caught outside once more the queen will have my head” He took your hand and flushed a little as he pressed his lips to your hand softly. “I will be eagerly awaiting?”

Jeon Jungkook: Batman vs Ironman @yungisseesaw

It had been years since Jungkook’s people and the Human’s world became one, it was strange like two alternate timelines crossed over joining into one. The humans were not so welcoming for the first few years and so growing up Jungkook had people stare and judge him for his differences.

Jungkook was now a Young adult and a big time nerd, he spent his time watching superhero movies and playing video games, going to the arcade and funnily enough playing DND with his friends, all of which were human. Jimin and Hoseok were roommates and they had a really cute neighbor who Jungkook had seen only a handful of times over the fence a few times which meant she didn’t know he was a centaur. So while the others went to get pizza and movies Jungkook was home alone. Him and cars didn’t really mix well, not only didn’t he fit, they made him nauseous. You had chosen that moment to invite yourself over, except in a towel. “Hello, Hoseok, Jimin, are you home, I know you said to use the key for emergencies, but my hot water ran out”

“They aren’t here?” Jungkook said hiding behind the couch she turned and squealed “They went to get pizza and movies” “Oh well is it okay if I borrow the shower, I am freezing”

“Of course go ahead?” You went upstairs and he frowned curling up on the couch trying to curl his feet up and cover himself in blankets and pillows to hide his legs from her. “We are home?” Hoseok shouted and they laid out pizza boxes and drinks. “Why do you look so pale?”

“Y/N, is in the shower right now, her hot water ran out and she asked to borrow your shower” “Dude, you finally talked to her face to face, how did she take it?” “Well I was kind of hiding behind the couch?” They looked down at the fort he had made around himself and they smiled sadly.

“Wow that feels better” “Hey, Y/N, what do you think of centaurs?” Jimin grinned dodging Jungkook’s hand as it was swinging with vengeance “Hmm uh I have nothing against them, they are people too” “Would you ever date a centaur?” Yoongi added that any girl for their best friend had to get through them first.

“I mean yeah, I don’t know how the business would work but if I like someone it’s for who they are and not what they look like, any of you could come out right now and tell me you were one of the Cenpeople and I would still love you all just the same.

Yoongi seemed to approve and ripped the blankets off of Jungkook revealing his horse lower half and his weird four legged lounge pants. “Hyung!” Jungkook tried to grab at pillows and the blanket to cover himself back up but resorted to burying his face in a throw cushion sniffling in shame and embarrassment. His ears were bright red.

You looked over at him and sat on the couch across from him, “Do you know what I have a problem with Kookie, that you think that Iron man is the best rich orphan powerless superhero when clearly it is Bruce Wayne”

“You two are still arguing about that?” Namjoon scoffed “They have been going on about it for three weeks now” Jimin grinned “It’s like their odd way of flirting I think it’s cute”

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nialltlynch · 4 years ago

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kk’s trc halloween ficlet whatever week 2

warnings: bugs being gross, spiders being weird

yes this is a crossover episode BUT you don’t need to know anything about tma. enjoy~

Statement of Ronan Lynch regarding the disappearance of his former roommate Richard Campbell Gansey III

STATEMENT BEGINS

I’ve known Gansey for a few years now. It’s hard to describe him. There’s really no one else who compares. He dressed like a prep school ad - you know, perfectly starched polo shirts, boat shoes. Probably something he picked up from his renown political family. He talked like the oldest fucker you’ve ever met. Always saying shit like incongruous and I do declare. I’ll never forget the day we met. He just showed up out of the blue in this bright orange Camaro. It felt so wrong. Like someone should have heralded him. There should have been trumpets or a whole damn parade. Anyway. Uh. He has these perfectly manicured fingernails. Stout fingers and calloused palms…. I taught him to fight, did you know that? When I showed him how to throw a punch he took it serious. Like, really serious.

He died once. When he was a kid. Stepped on a wasp nest and they went after him. He survived, obviously. He would tell me that a ghost saved him. Or the spirit of a dead Welsh king. He’s fearless now except for wasps. I’ve seen him dive headlong into some of the craziest shit but the only thing that ever makes him think twice is wasps. I won’t pretend I understand it. It was just. I knew then that I wanted to - I just didn’t want him to go away.

It was his idea to fix up the warehouse on the edge of town. It looked like shit to me, honestly. Surprised it hadn’t been condemned. I mean looking back, I should have known. Maybe not known known but I should have suspected, you know? He wink-wink nudge-nudge “accidentally” broke the lock on the shitty fence keeping us out. Just to look around. That was the sort of thing that was totally Gansey. He needed a place to himself and this was what he wanted. So I didn’t question it.

It was stuffy on the inside. Definitely abandoned. Shit everywhere. Two vacant stories that hadn’t been touched in forever. It was some old manufacturing warehouse or something. I don’t even know what kind of factory it was supposed to be. Everything had been mangled beyond recognition. It was metal all over. Industrial. It had this smell to it that slowly crept up on you the longer you stood in it. This deep infiltrating scent of decay. I honestly haven’t smelled anything like it since. It was visceral. Like the idea of rot took up space in your nose. Gansey breathed it all in and he said to me “It’s perfect.” He was so excited. I didn’t question it.

We spent a few weeks that summer fixing it up. We’d get there right as the sun was coming up and work until it got too dark to do anything useful. I mostly did the reno part of it. The fine grunt work. Rewiring. Repainting. Refinishing. All the re-type stuff. I grew up helping my mom with housework since my dad was always away on business and my older brother cared more about hanging out with his friends than doing anything for the family. Gansey did the demolition. And he took all the old crap.

We started on the first floor but it was unsalvageable. Even Gansey agreed on that. Broken machines and glass and god knows what else were all down there. We took a look at it one time and noped out pretty quick. Never went down there again. The second story was much nicer anyway. Big floor to ceiling windows. Lots of space and light. It was a dream come true.

There was this one day when I came by later in the afternoon. It was Sunday so I had church that morning with my family. Gansey was already at the warehouse. I knew he was there. His Camaro was out front. I called out for him but he didn’t answer. I opened the front door and the sound ricocheted louder than anything. And then - nothing. It was quiet. Almost deadly quiet expect for one thing: a faint persistent buzzing. Yeah I thought it was a little weird but the building was so old it would have been anything. Whatever. I called for Gansey again when I reached the top of those metal stairs and I swear the buzzing just stopped. Cut out immediately. Paused and hung heavy in the air. It was like I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I looked over the room and I saw - like, really saw for the first time - how filthy the place was. Dust and bullshit everywhere. We weren’t the cleanest and yeah I’ve been known to make a mess of myself but I won’t ever forget this feeling of something crawling just under my skin. I remember thinking if I looked at my arms I’d see something scurrying.

Anyway, I finally noticed Gansey over in the far corner. The one farthest away from the door. I learned later that no matter the time of day, sunlight never touched over there. He was crouched, not quite kneeling, like he was looking for something. My heart had been racing, I could feel it slowing in my throat. I never believed that you could actually feel relief rushing your muscles or whatever poetic shit like that, but in that moment I felt it. I started to walk towards him. I opened my mouth and said a little bullshit about how he nearly scared me shitless, but then I saw how he didn’t move.

Things got worse as I got closer. First - the smell. It hit me all at once. I’ve been punched in the face before and it was exactly like that - just getting beat over and over and over again. It was disgusting. I stuffed my face in the crook of my elbow but it was everywhere. Then I could see them. Trailing up his outstretched arms and scattering all over his body. So many fucking bugs. And Gansey? Gansey was standing so still. He held himself there and let the whole thing happen. It’s like he didn’t even notice me.

I had to do something. I rushed over and there was this chittering, buzzing noise. It just got louder and louder. I grabbed Gansey by the shoulder and pulled him into the light. I could feel their little legs and antennas as I swept my hands over him trying to smack as many bugs away from him as I could. There were so many but -

It was just ants. Only ants. Nothing else. They fled back into the dark corner and by the time we made it to the front door they had all gone.

So we stayed at The Barns that night. Nothing felt right. Usually the sound of cicadas are like a lullaby. The sight of fireflies are like a night light. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. And neither did Gansey.

We didn’t have another incident for a while. Sure, that corner ended up always crawling with ants no matter what we did. I set traps and sprayed every kind of poison. No matter how much I cleaned over there, they kept coming back. We never put anything in that corner after that.

I noticed that Gansey would get - how to put this - obsessed with it. I would catch him staring at it sometimes. I don’t think he knew that I knew. Never said anything. He faced his bed, his chair, his desk toward the corner. Spent hours and hours staring at it. Never getting close or saying anything, just looking. He had this look on his face like he wanted to reach into that darkness and see what happened. He didn’t, though. Not at first. I never actually caught him doing it, but I swear he would talk to them. To the bugs, yeah. I know what you’re going to say: maybe he was just talking to himself? But, no. No, that wasn’t it. It was the bugs. He’d tell them about his day or about Glendower or about his girl problems and sometimes…he’d tell them about me. Like I said, I never really caught him in the act. I just know he did, okay?

It was maybe a month or so into fixing the place when I found - when my dad died. A lot of shit went down that week but long story short I ended up living with Gansey at the warehouse. It was shit. Hated it. Not because of the place. It was whatever. Anywhere I lived after all of that would have been awful. It’s hard to feel good about anything when you’re never sure it’s going to get taken away.

Gansey was the best part. He was always the best part. He at least tried to make it homey. He gave me my own room and didn’t even lift an eyebrow when I brought back my dad’s bloodstained BMW. He rolled up his sleeves and started talking to me about Welsh kings or ley lines or whatever while we scrubbed away the dirt.

That was when I first noticed the bugs had a thing for him. Like they were attracted. Mosquitoes constantly buzzed around his head. Ants would crawl up his legs. A cricket hopped up right by Gansey this one time and played a little song like it was looking for his approval. Gansey didn’t seem to notice at all. I know, I know. I should have asked him about it. But whenever I mustered up the nerve to do it I remembered the terror in his face that one afternoon so I stopped myself.

Then it happened. It wasn’t summer anymore but it was still too fucking hot. I couldn’t sleep because I was barely sleeping at the time. And Gansey couldn’t sleep because - well, Gansey was Gansey. I had my headphones on and I had my music as loud as it would go because I remember feeling so angry. And I wanted to sleep. Pass out. Dreamless.

But there was this buzzing. I thought it might have been my headphones at first. Faulty wires or blown speaker or something but it persisted. I threw my headphones off and it was louder than before. I could feel it in my teeth. I called for Gansey but - but he didn’t hear me. There was no way he could through all the buzzing.

It got worse when I opened the door to my room. It was so loud out there. Deafeningly loud. Like a summer night but turned up past eleven. The smell was back. That rotting smell of death. There’s no other way to describe it. It was like the building itself had become rot incarnate.

I thought at first my vision was going from all the noise and the horrible smell. The walls were practically pulsating, almost like they were endlessly crumbling without ever actually toppling. I put a hand against the door jamb to steady myself. They started to crawl all over me as soon as my palm touched metal. Every bug imaginable. Every last one skittering across my hands nearly engulfing me in a second.

All I could think in that moment was Gansey. Where was he? Was he safe? I ran across the room to his bed. There wasn’t a surface that wasn’t swimming with bugs. I pulled back the blanket and a wave of crickets and worms went flying over everything. I dropped the blanket. Gansey wasn’t in his bed. He wasn’t upstairs. I tried to get close to the corner but all the bugs were pushing me back like a current. Every time I took a step closer they were on the offensive. They were out for blood. Mandibles bared. Stingers ready. The air was filling up, too. Thick with flying things like mosquitoes and beetles and -

The buzzing. The buzzing of a thousand wings beating against the night air like a drum. Louder than the bang of my heart in my throat. I’m sure I was screaming by then. I know I tore down those metals stairs without any shoes. I have the cuts on my feet to prove it. But I don’t remember any of that. Just the buzz and the scent. I’ll never forget either of those things.

It was like my nightmares of that afternoon had come to life. Gansey was downstairs in the unfinished first floor. He was standing perfectly still. Right above his head, swirling all around him, circling his entire body - wasps. A swarm of them. An entire army. I could barely make out Gansey among all of it. They had surrounded him and I could only just see the flashes of his skin in between their thousands of legs and wings. I wasn’t imagining it. I knew without a doubt…I could feel it. He was so absolutely terrified.

I tried. I really tried, okay? I did everything I could to get to him but those damn bugs. There were so many and they didn’t let me get one step into that room. They were forcing me back. I remember their stings and nettles and bites. I don’t have any scars to prove it but I remember the feel of it. Sometimes I still feel a stinger stabbing into my skin or I feel the breezy rush of tiny legs marching along. I remember the way it looked. The way it smelled. The way it sounded. I pushed as hard as I could but I couldn’t even get close. I called desperately for Gansey. There were so many wasps. I didn’t - I don’t want to think about what could have happened.

The rest is -

I - I don’t remember it very well. I don’t - I’m not proud of what I did. I must have somehow made it back to my car. They were following me. No, pursuing me. A few of them found a way in. It wasn’t even bugs I’d seen before. These weird ones I’ve never even knew existed. I didn’t want to leave Gansey. I know I would never leave him. He’s my -

I drove as far as possible as fast as possible. I just remember the sun blinding me at some point and I was a few good hours outside of town. All the bugs in my card had died.

I went back to the warehouse as soon as I came to and it was cleaned out. A decrepit old condemned sign hung on a fence wrapped around the perimeter that looked like it had been there for years. Gansey’s Camaro was gone. Not even track marks for the tires. Just untouched dirt. It was dead silent. No buzzing. No chirping.

I went in, of course. This was our home and I wasn’t going to leave Gansey. I wanted to make sure he was…safe.

None of our stuff was in there. Not a trace of anything. It had been cleaned so pristinely. Even that stupid shitty corner was practically shining. The entire place was empty. It didn’t quite hit me until I breathed in and it just smelled like concrete in a Virginia summer.

I tried Gansey’s phone but he didn’t answer. I was able to leave him a message but it’s been disconnected since then. Just a dial tone. Not even one of those messages that goes stop trying to call dumbfuck this shit’s busy. I asked around if anyone had seen Gansey or his Camaro. Nope. Nothing. People remembered him, so it wasn’t like he just vanished off the face of the earth. They told me stories. They told me how Gansey was so kind and curious and so many other wonderful things but no one had seen him. I’ve been so close to giving up looking for him. But I know that I can’t. I can’t give up. He’s still out there, I’m sure. I know he is.

I haven’t had any luck for months. No leads, no signs. Nothing. Well, there is one thing. I don’t know how related it is but ever since I moved into the church there’s been a very persistent spider. Parrish says he’s never had an issue with bugs or anything. It was one of the few things he liked about the place. I liked it too. But ever since I’ve been living there webs have started appearing up in the corners on the ceiling. I know it’s all one spider. Parrish has never seen the spider itself. She only seems to come out for me. She never does anything. I just watch her wave her web for hours and hours. What? Oh, how do I know the spider is a she? I guess I just. Know. Like how I know she’s not dangerous. Well not exactly not-dangerous. I just know she won’t touch me.

Maybe it’s nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. Spiders never bothered Gansey. It’s probably nothing. Maybe I just…Maybe I just miss him.

STATEMENT ENDS

#kk textpost #trc fanfiction #ronan lynch #richard gansey #week 2 of #my trc halloween adjacent ficlets #yeah a crossover episode!#this is one-hundred percent a tma-themed crossover but im not tagging the podcast because i don't want to fill up their feed #it's a corruption episode kids #cw bugs #cw spiders #kk writing

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lianadrayton · 4 years ago

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**CURRENTLY UNDER CONSTRUCTION 11/19**

UPDATED: NOVEMBER 19th, 2020

@tupeloextras

KANE // 24 // SHE/HER // EST

DISCORD: whiskey#6583

I work nights so my replies on the dash and in discord are kind of all over the place time-wise

I am irresponsible so here is a 3rd I said I’d never have

LIANA DRAYTON-CRAWFORD

Full Name: Liana Selene Drayton-Crawford

Nickname(s): Lia, Duchess

Birthday: July 5th, 1978 (42)

Hometown: Chanute, Kansas

Education: Bachelor of Science in Chemistry with a minor in Biochemistry from Northeastern University

Occupation: Waitress at Red’s Diner

Faceclaim: Amy Adams

Content Warning(s):

Divorce, Emotional Manipulation/Abuse (Implied), Cheating,

BACKGROUND:

Liana was born & raised in Chanute, Kansas to young parents (18, 19) who had no concept of the amount of work it took to raise a child

She was raised on hard work, thrift shops, and Sunday mass by her maternal grandparents as her parents never stepped up to the plate to try their hand in raising their daughter

Already absent in much of her life, the couple broke up in their mid-20′s and her father moved to Washington state and was not heard from after that point

Her mother never ended up going to college and ended up marrying a lineman and moved away against the wishes of her parents, officially leaving Liana behind with her grandparents

Though her parental situation was different her life with her grandparents was great

They may have been some of the poorest people in the already poor, little midwestern town.. but they were all rich in love which was what mattered the most

The moment that Liana could get a job she did and her first job was working in a local flower shop and then moved to picking up shifts at the diner

All of the money she made went to help her grandparents with bills even though they would protest and downright refuse her offer to help. Liana would often secretly go and pay off some small bills anyway behind their backs to help

Anything extra of Liana’s that could be spared was saved so she could purchase a car. Her first vehicle was a 1985 Ford Escort (9 years old by the time of purchase). Issues with the vehicle were worked on by her grandfather (and sometimes Liana herself) as he used to be a mechanic in the town

Even with juggling working and school Liana managed to post outstanding scores and was named the valedictorian of her class (even though it was a small class it still felt like a great accomplishment with the way her parents had both barely graduated from high school)

She was accepted and granted a scholarship to attend Northeastern University in Boston, Massachusetts for chemistry

While in Boston, Liana met Alexander “Lex” Crawford who was attending Harvard University in the neighboring Cambridge, Massachusetts for law

The two began dating officially roughly 6 months after meeting

During Liana’s 4th year at Northeastern and Lex’s final year in law school, Liana found out that she was pregnant with Lex’s child (~2 months before graduation)

After graduation Lex proposed to Liana and the two had a fast-tracked wedding late that summer

The two would end up having 3 children in total and remain happily married for over 10 years before issues arose

MARRIAGE & DIVORCE: TW Divorce, Emotional Manipulation/Abuse, Cheating

They welcomed their first child in 2000, a boy, named Theodore “Theo” Crawford

Even though Liana had her degree her dreams of pursuing a career were cut short and she instead became a stay-at-home mother to care for Theo full time (as per the request of her husband and his family)

Five years after the birth of Theo, Liana and Lex had another child in 2005 - this time a girl named Ava Crawford

For the first few years of marriage Lex was fairly sincere and loyal to Liana but was often swept up in the scandals of his own family’s bad behavior

This bad behavior was often praised by other members of his family and he grew to resent Liana for keeping him from enjoying his youth

Liana spent much of her time with the children and trying to be the perfect housewife

In a matter of years she had gone from the only thing in her name being a 1985 Ford Escort to having access to a house in the Hamptons, cars, lake homes, and expensive time shares overseas

She cooked, cleaned, decorated the house for each and every occasion and was always the parent who attended parent-teacher conferences and was also part of the PTA/PTO

Lex started to go behind Liana’s back with other women (most of whom were college interns or assistants for the law firm)

Everyone knew about it but no one would say anything since Liana never brought it up as she preferred to pretend that it wasn’t always the hot gossip amongst the circles she was in

Lex would reel Liana back in by preying on her love for her children, informing her that if they were to divorce he would take the children and she would be left with nothing

He would also often switch between threats against Liana and grand romantic gestures (empty, of course) to keep her attached to him just enough to not leave

She preferred to wear the rose colored glasses as long as she could though eventually they would break

The worst came when Liana would have their third child together, another boy, in 2015 (Benjamin “Bear” Crawford)

From there things escalated quickly between Liana and Lex and they divorced in 2018

Lex would gain full custody of the children at this time by accusations against Liana that she was alienating the children from him

The Crawford reach extended into many of the rich and elite in New England so there was no concern from Lex about keeping custody no matter what Liana did, in fact the custody battle was an attempt to lure her into doing something uncharacteristic then using that against her to ensure that the children would stay with him (though he did it for revenge against her, not because he cared for the children)

Additionally, the Crawford family did not care for Liana that much overall, believing that she was still “some girl from a cornfield in Kansas” and they often called her Dorothy

Liana would battle with Lex in court over custody until the money ran short, additionally she would see how much of a toll the fighting took on the children and knowing she would never be able to beat her then-husband in court she stopped fighting

Lex also took out a restraining order against Liana after their legal proceedings were finished

Even though the children had spent 90% of their lives with their mother, their father’s words (and Black Amex) proved to be much more alluring than staying with the person who had seen them through everything in their lives

By the time the legal battles had settled down, Theo was of-age and went to college. Liana tries to keep in contact with him but he has not been that responsive (reasons not known, suspected influence from his father paying for his schooling)

Lex offered Liana a large share of money during the divorce as well as vehicles and vacation homes all of which she rejected, only taking what was in her name only

PERSONALITY:

Liana is very dedicated and loyal to her friends and family (even if sometimes they don’t deserve it)

Strong work ethic! She never lost this even while being married to someone who would’ve rather just paid for everything to be done rather than do it himself

Very maternal, she tries not to mother everyone but kind of accidentally does it sometimes (she’s working hard on reeling it in)

She’s very sweet, likes to help others when possible

Tries to see people for the best instead of the worst (hence staying with her husband for so long) even if it comes back to bite her in the ass

Can be almost a little too kind, this usually lead to her being used like a door mat but her divorce gave her some strength to push back once things got to be too much

Walking Pinterest board, she’s creative and enjoys her little projects. Often subjecting friends to testing them out with her (whether it’s building something or baking a recipe that looks good)

FAST FACTS:

Liana moved to Tupelo as an attempt to go somewhere where no one would know her

She could not go home as her family there is no longer around and no one could ever track down her father after he moved to Washington

She has deep regrets and embarrassment over not being able to get custody of her children and does not speak of them (as she does not want to explain anything)

Her home is bare of any photographs that would hint that she has children

She will speak of her ex-husband, but only briefly and not mention what he did but instead say that they split due to differing opinions on where they wanted their lives to lead

She still enjoys cooking and decorating as they are some of the few things she finds comforting, she also finds having live flowers in her home

Liana has two pets - a Great Dane named Salem and a brown tabby cat named “Billy the Kitten” based off the character of the same name from the popular mobile app Neko Atsume (both pets were handed over to Liana during the divorce)

Liana now lives in small home with a decent yard, using the remaining money she had to purchase it mostly for the yard for Salem (the inside of the home is lined with carpet runners for the dog and there is not an abundance of furniture that is not necessary as to accommodate Salem’s size)

Liana can be seen walking Salem often or having Salem outside with her while she gardens, Salem can wander freely around the property when Liana is outside - otherwise he is limited to the fence (which he can stick his head over)

She has a Mercedes (which she hates) and can never get it worked on without taking it to a larger city

She kept the Crawford part of her last name as (for whatever reason) it makes her feel closer to her children in some small way

BEST FRIEND FROM COLLEGE TM: (Taken WC by Ethan Morris, Jake Gyllenhaal FC)

These two met while attending Northeastern and quickly became close friends

Just because they were close didn’t necessarily mean that he always supported or even liked the fact that Liana was dating Lex Crawford

He & Lex shared a mutual distain for one another

Even with this, the two would eventually attend each other’s weddings

Right before he got married he asked Liana to leave Lex and to essentially have a modern-day runaway sequence with him (no points for timing)

Unfortunately, she could not bring herself to divorce her husband at the time

After he got married they began to drift apart

CONNECTIONS:

Friends!

People she mothers on accident

Other dog people (and cat)

Those who benefit/are subjected to taste testing random recipes she finds

Regulars at Red’s

Her kid?? This could be a WC at some point I guess (We out here being flexible on most of that)

She’s not really looking for anything romantic at all - but y’know sometimes it hits you when you least expect

Maybe someone who actually did know her from the east coast (whoops)

Everything!!

#tw divorce #tw emotional abuse #tw emotional manipulation #tw manipulation #tw cheating #just trying to get my tags under wraps #.tag1 #.tag2 #.tag3 #.tag4 #.tag5 #here we are with me being irresponsible #with a 3rd character I swore I'd never have

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oforamuse · 5 years ago

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i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) chapter 6/?

mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.

the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.

mickey suddenly finds himself being thrown head first back into a world of people and places he’s spent so many years trying to leave behind.

au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.

read and comment on ao3 (please reblog ❤)

Mickey brings the lit cigarette up to his lips and breathes it in, allowing the thick, musky smoke to fill his lungs. He holds it there for a second, before exhaling and flicking the ashes down to the ground and stomping it out. He didn’t sleep last night, tossing and turning restlessly, there wasn’t a moment his brain switched off and relaxed, and he’s definitely feeling it now. He managed to pull himself up for his shift around seven that evening, his eyes swollen and his stomach reeling. He doesn’t remember getting ready, only how his hands shook as he stripped off and the realisation he was still wearing the clothes that Ian had leant him the day earlier set in. He shoved them to the bottom of his laundry basket, after balling them up and talking himself out of burning them in the bathtub. He doesn’t remember the subway ride over to Astoria, the W chugging slowly along the elevated tracks, he doesn’t remember clocking in. He’s exhausted, exhausted by the lack of rest, exhausted by the ache in his chest, exhausted by the kids who keep trying to get in the fucking club.

He could definitely do without this right now.

‘You’re not getting in.’ He grunts to a very clearly underaged girl and her group friends, ‘Go back to your homework or get a better fake.’ He pockets the ID and they call out in disgruntled protest, but he doesn’t give them another look as he points them out of line. ‘Beat it.’

‘You’re an asshole!’ One of them shouts as turn and they go down the block. Mickey shakes his head - fine, he might be an asshole, but they must be fucking freezing with the lack of clothing they’re wearing. It ain’t about feminism, it’s just stupid to freeze to death in mid-February New York temperatures over the need to show off some skin and he doesn’t understand it at all. No one wants to fuck someone if they've got hypothermia, what's the point?

The winters aren’t as bad as he’s used to in Chicago, but it’s still a cold and brutal night in Astoria, the wind blowing off the East River and not doing anyone any favours. Mickey brings his hands up to his mouth and blows hot air on his fingers, giving himself something to do other than think about-

No. He’s not doing that.

He’s been doing that for the last few days. He’s not doing it now.

‘Damn Chicago, being a bit harsh tonight, don’t ya think?’ Roy says, his thick eyebrows drawn together in quiet amusement. Mickey rolls his eyes, but Roy has a point, they’re the fourth group of people he’s turned away in the last hour. He doesn’t care, they should get some better fucking fake IDs. ‘The club’s gotta make some sort of bank.’

He doesn’t care. He’s finding it difficult to give a shit about anything, really. It’s hard to give a shit when it feels like someone has hollowed you out and filled you with wet cement. There’s a clap on his shoulder, Roy’s hand coming down hard. He flinches, but shakes it out in an attempt to style it off.

Roy’s been on the same bodyguard shifts as him since he started and he’s probably one of the only people he’d consider a friend out here. They didn’t click immediately when they met, 6 or so months ago, Mickey’s need to be the most intimidating person in the room when he’s nervous outweighing his need to make a good first impression, but they’re okay now. He’s short, shorter than Mickey, but makes up for it with his thick Brooklyn accent and his overly muscled arms. They don’t chat much, but he isn’t trouble and sometimes they’ll go out for a beer, so it works for him.

‘These fuckin’ kids.’ Mickey says, already patting his pockets for another cigarette, his hands needing something to do other than clench. ‘Don’t they have something better to do then fuckin’ freeze to death?’

‘Give ‘em a break, as if you were up to anything better when you were their age.’ Roy says, his eyebrows raised knowingly. Mickey told him a few stories about his miscreant years a few months back, over cheap beer and dollar pizza, accidentally letting slip over one too many that he’d wound up in prison for 6 years. He didn’t mention why he’d been in prison - he wouldn’t even know where to begin to explain that fucked up situation without coming off a hard edged convict. Nonetheless, Roy had been impressed with the descriptions of orange jumpsuits and chain link fences, listening intently as he chewed on his cheese slice. Ever since then, he’d dropped it into conversation regularly, hoping, Mickey assumes, for him to spill more about his time incarcerated. Roy may look intimidating to the average person, but Mickey knows the guy wouldn’t know how to pick a lock, let alone beat someone up or steal a car. Prison life fascinates him, but Mickey doesn’t really know what to do with the weird and uncommon attention so he usually dismisses his attempts at prying.

‘Wasn’t tryin’ to get into clubs, that’s for sure.’ Mickey says, pulling out the empty cigarette box from his pocket and throwing it into a nearby trash can. Fuck, he needs more smokes, he’d only bought that packet this morning but he’s been chain smoking like a chimney. His hands shake slightly so he shoves them into his pockets for some release.

‘Yeah, just stealing cars.’ Roy quips, nodding as he waves people into the club without giving them much of a look. The music thumps through the open door, the sidewalk vibrating with every bass drop and low beat. It makes Mickey’s head pound. ‘Robbing stores and what not.’

‘Alright, fuck off.’ He gruffs back, his face pulled into an irritated scowl. He’s not wrong, though. He wasted so much time as a kid on bullshit , force fed the rhetoric from his father that people in the world are inherently selfish and so he might as well take advantage of it. The first time Terry had made him rob a store he was 6, still eager to please his father with wide eyes and unable to think for himself, he’d shoved money handed to him in a bag whilst his father held up a register at gunpoint. He hadn’t even given Mickey a mask, though wearing one himself, leaving his 6 year old vulnerable and obvious - but Mickey hadn’t known that. He’d felt invincible, powerful, his insides gleaming at the pride in his father’s eyes as they left the store successful. It’s the moments like that, being handed his first gun before age 10, forced on a drug run aged 12, that littered his childhood and decided his future. They set him on the path of being a fuck up before he even had the chance to create his own map and decide himself.

‘What’s got you so riled up- d’ya need a break? I’ll cover for you.’ Roy rolls his eyes, and raises his hands innocently at Mickey’s expression. Mickey’s shoulders drop slightly, a small amount of his tension draining, and he drags a hand over his face. He’s being an asshole and he knows it.

‘Nah man, it’s just shit.’ He mutters, keeping his voice steady. He throws Roy what he hopes is a grateful look before waving someone through. ‘Stupid shit.’

‘Ay, just let me know if you gotta talk shit out.’ Roy continues, looking at him pointedly.

Mickey raises his eyebrows, his face twisted towards Roy’s in disbelief, ‘Since when do we talk shit out?’ He says, unimpressed.

‘My girl’s got me talkin’ more, tellin’ me we’ve got to work on our stuff.’ Roy explains, a proud expression on his features. ‘It’s nice, man.’

‘You’re such a pussy.’ Mickey says, his eyes glazing over the ID in his hand. He grunts at the girl and nods at her to go through. She’s definitely under 21.

Roy kisses his teeth, ‘Ay, none of that.’ He says, waving his hand out dismissively. ‘She’s the real fuckin’ deal.’

‘Whatever, man.’ Mickey says, hoping to end the conversation there because he sure as hell isn’t about to open up on the sidewalk. He’s only on shift for the next few hours and then he gets to go home and go the fuck back to sleep. He shifts his gaze back to the club’s line and his eyes catch a flash of red hair, his stomach drops and everything in Mickey goes cold.

He swallows, his hands frozen as he watches them laugh with their friends.

It’s not Ian.

He breathes out, but he doesn’t know if he’s relieved or pissed off, and shakes his head to bring himself back to earth. Only 3 more hours to go which could easily be 3 years given the way time is dragging, slow and sluggish. They stand there in silence as they wave people in and out of the club, Mickey’s eyes glazing over the IDs shoved in his face, his hands hurting in the cold.

‘That tux fit you, yeah?’ Roy says, breaking the silence after 20 minutes or so, the question so innocent yet it feels like a stab to the gut. He’d completely forgotten about the tux he’d borrowed, left in a pile on the floor of Fiona’s bedroom when they couldn’t wait, when they were ripping each others-

‘Chicago.’

The nickname digs and makes Mickey cringe, his eyes squeezing together tightly as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. It had popped up about a month or so of them working together, he doesn’t even know if he told Roy he was from Chicago, he must’ve done, but it stuck. He usually doesn’t mind it but tonight it feels like a dart has been thrown and he’s the centre of the bullseye, it pricks and aches. A hand comes down on his shoulder, steadying and grounding, and he shifts his gaze.

‘What?’ He mutters, keeping his voice as controlled as possible and ignoring the way his throat burns . Roy eyes him expectantly, his eyebrows drawn together by an expression that’s unclear, but questioning. ‘Yeah, yeah it was great.’

‘Good… you alright?’ Roy says, his eyes narrowed and suspicious. Other than Ian, it’s foreign to Mickey to have someone who wants to pry, wants to care, wants to understand. He never had friends growing up, his brother’s didn’t give a shit and neither did Mandy. It’s unchartered territory and he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t know how to like it. ‘Just whack it in the dry cleaners or somethin’ and I’ll come by and pick up soon, yeah?’

He nods, avoiding looking up and he breathes slowly, steadying the unsettled rise in his chest. Roy isn’t seeing that tux again, not if Mickey can help it, he doesn’t know how he’ll deal with it but he will. He’s not exactly about to turn around and say he left it at his ex’s sister’s house after they hooked up for the first time in years. He isn’t about to explain how for the first time since being out of prison, things aligned, things felt certain and solid. He’s not going to tell Roy how no matter how many times he told himself that Chicago was behind him, that Ian didn’t cross his mind, he was always lying. Hope had burned, a low and almost snuffed out flame, but constantly for years, that Ian may want him again. That Ian would be the one to take those steps, put himself out there, make that gesture, after everything.

But he was wrong, apparently, and the world needed to remind him that Mickey Milkovich doesn’t get to hope for things.

The rest of the shift passes in a dull blur of underaged kids and coked up businessmen, Mickey drifting through the hours disconnected and distant. By the time 4am rolls around and the club starts to shut up, the idea of going back home stalls and overwhelms him. He delays himself by dropping into the bodega on the corner to buy more smokes, and loiters on the sidewalk outside afterwards, a lit cigarette in his mouth with the smoke warming his lungs as he inhales.

He thinks about Ian, his hair, his body, his smile, his fucking smell. He’s got a lock on him, tight like a vice and clamped down on his heart without a chance for release. He wishes he could breathe in everything he feels for him like the smoke he’s inhaling and exhale it back out into the atmosphere, freeing him once and for all, but he can’t. His feelings for Ian are immovable, etched into the fabric of Mickey’s very being. There’s no escape, no matter how hard he tries. Even if he’s angry, even if he’s confused, the only thing that’s clear as day is the way he feels about him.

A few exhales and a moment later, Roy jogs up to him with a backpack slung over one shoulder, pulling Mickey back, his chest tight.

‘Have a good night, C-Town.’ Roy says, raising a hand as he turns to leave. Mickey rolls his eyes at the dude’s incessant need to give him a nickname, and his words fall out before he can stop them.

The sudden need to talk overwhelms him and takes control, ‘Roy.’

‘Yeah?’

It’s unfamiliar and scary but he feels his resolve crumbling, brick by brick falling to the ground, leaving him horribly open and vulnerable.

Mickey avoids his eyes, allowing them to drift over to the stoop opposite, ‘You serious about that… talkin’ shit out business?’

‘Serious as shit, man.’ Roy grins, before changing his expression inquisitively, ‘You takin’ me up on that offer?’

‘Fuck.’ Mickey swears, low and under his breath. He shakes his head, suddenly horribly aware that it’s 4am and the city will be back up and running soon. He throws a glance over to the subway station on the corner, his face twisted painfully. ‘Nah, man… it’s late, you should go to bed.’

‘You wanna talk?’ Roy asks, his tone genuine and concerned, throwing Mickey off slightly by the foreignness of it all. He’s so not used to asking for help. Roy throws a thumb over his shoulder. ‘My place is round the block, you want a beer and then crash?’

Mickey bite his tongue, knowing his immediate reaction would be a barked no and a scowl. He shrugs noncommittally, his hand coming up to wipe at the side of his mouth. ‘I’m good.’

‘You’re coming with me- no man, don’t even try to fight it.’ He says, his hands coming down firm on Mickey’s shoulders, twisting him in the direction of his place.

‘Alright, alright-’ Mickey surrenders, shrugging Roy's hands off with his palms raised. ‘Don’t need to be manhandled.’

Roy laughs out loud, the noise filling up the empty Queens street and Mickey ducks his head, embarrassed but pleasantly so. He doesn’t feel perfect, the shift in him hasn’t fixed but something lightens in his chest at Roy’s persistence. He shoves him on the shoulder, his knuckles curled, and they stumble down the street towards Roy’s apartment.

His place is a short walk from the club, the ground floor apartment of a converted townhouse tucked away on a side street off Steinway. It’s nice, Mickey thinks as they enter the threshold, nicer than his shithole in Harlem. It’s smaller, but things feel settled and lived in, it feels like a home. He’s not had a home in a long time.

‘Lainie’s on the night shift at Bellevue, so don’t worry about the noise.’ Roy says as he waves him in, and Mickey suddenly feels like an asshole because he didn’t even consider it before. ‘Bathroom’s to your right, you can take the couch, man.’, he tips his head to the sofa pressed up against the wall.

Mickey stands to the side awkwardly as Roy pulls the fridge open, uncomfortably out of his depth in a new environment. He listens to the caps pop off the bottles, and then a cold one is pressed into his hand as he’s being ushered towards the living area.

‘Tell me about your troubles man.’ Roy says, settling back into the couch with ease, his arms extended out at his side as if he’s some self help guru. Mickey assesses the pros and cons of sitting down next to Roy on the small sofa, but decides abruptly to plant himself on the floor, his legs crossed awkwardly. He needs his space.

Mickey frowns, bringing the beer up to his lips and holding the liquid in his mouth for a second before swallowing, delaying the impending vulnerability. He clears his throat, ‘It’s fuckin’ stupid.’

Roy raises his eyebrows as if to say, try me and Mickey rolls his eyes but pushes forward, his grip on his bottle tightening. ‘You ain’t getting your suit back.’

Roy frowns, ‘You lose it? Come on, man...How d’ya lose a suit-’

‘It’s on the floor of my...uh, fuck.’ He catches himself, rubbing his eyes, ‘It’s somewhere I ain’t going again, I’ll pay you for it.’

‘You hook up with the bride’s sister or something?’ Roy says, and Mickey has to hold back a gag because his brain instantly goes to Debbie so he takes a distracting gulp of his beer, wiping the residue off his mouth with the back of his hand. Roy looks at him, confused why his joke caused such a reaction. He pauses, ‘You didn’t hook up with the bride’s sister, d’ya?’

He squeezes his eyes shut, ‘Something like that…’ Mickey sighs, because apparently it’s truth time and he needs to get someone on his side for once, someone neutral, someone who doesn’t know all the fucking baggage he carries around every single day. His head falls into his hands, the condensed glass cool against his forehead.

Roy makes a face, but continues. ‘Alright, so you hooked up with a chick, then what- left the next day without leaving a number?’ Mickey cringes at his assumption, but he can’t blame him cause Mickey’s never said anything different - not that he’s ashamed, he’s far out of those days, but he tries to keep his personal details to a minimum. There’s no excuse now, he guesses.

‘Him.’

‘What?’

‘Him.’ Mickey swallows, hating that there’s still that nag at the back of his head, all these years later. The instinctual pull to run and hide, to bury himself and everything he feels inside. He blames his father and all the bullshit he forced him through. He breathes, the exhale coming out light and free, almost 10 years later and the feeling of not having to suppress himself doesn’t lose its novelty. ‘I hooked up with him…the bride’s brother.’

Roy whistles, and Mickey snaps his head towards him, ‘That a fuckin’ issue?’

‘You keep surprising me, Milkovich.’ Roy says plainly, and he leans over to clink his glass bottle against Mickey’s, who sits there, paused. ‘Nah man, no issue here. I’m no animal.’

Mickey nods, small and slightly embarrassed, but he shakes it off. He’s been working on being less defensive, reminding himself that not everyone in the world was brought up by someone like his father - though lots of things Mickey’s been working on recently have been rearing their ugly heads.

He swallows, and continues, his throat aching, ‘Ain’t gonna see him again.’

‘Why not?’ Roy asks, a hand coming up to his chin and stroking his jawline.

‘Complicated.’

‘All shit in life is complicated, man.’ Roy waves his hand dismissively, ‘You like him?’

Mickey bites his lip, suppressing a painful grunt in the back of his throat. God, he wishes he just liked him, wishes it was that simple and direct. He shifts awkwardly and Roy’s pointed gaze boars into him, suffocating and close.

Mickey can’t deal with the intensity in his chest much longer so he gives up, and allows it to wash over him, pour out of him and onto the floor.

‘Love him.’

It rushes out of him like a wave, leaving him knee deep and vulnerable.

Roy pauses, mid-sip and nods, cradling the bottle in his hands. His eyes are sad but it doesn't look like he’s about to say anything, letting Mickey’s confession hang there, dauntingly. Mickey fiddles with the bottle’s label, his fingers running along the condensed paper, aching for a distraction. Roy pulls himself up off the couch and moves back into the kitchen, Mickey hears the fridge open and the tell tale hiss of bottles being opened.

‘He know you love him?’ Roy asks, removing the empty bottle from Mickey’s hand and replacing it with a new one. Mickey takes a sip, steadying himself as everything swirls inside of him.

‘Yeah.’ It comes out as a whisper, shallow and fraught, the bottle barely leaving his lips. After everything and all this time, Ian has to know he loves him, right? ‘He should.’

‘He should?’

The question makes Mickey’s head pound, this is so much more than he ever imagined sharing with anyone, it’s unknown territory but he doesn’t know what else he can do except gulp down the instinct to run away and push forward. ‘Prison, man.’ He sighs, and Roy’s eyebrows raise reactively. ‘I was in the joint because of him.’

‘You take the fall for him or something?’

Mickey presses his palms into his eyes and breathes, ‘Fuck, it’s so much more complicated- his sister, his half sister pulled some shit, he’s done some stuff in the past. But, fuck, it wasn’t his fault, you know? He didn’t fucking kill anyone, or some bullshit like that.’

He was manic, he was manic and it wasn’t his fault.

They were going to get fucking steaks.

‘He wasn’t doing well and got caught up in some shit, which was my fault anyway- but, fuck, I wasn’t going to let her get away with it, you know?’ He can’t stop now, it’s like someone kicked open a box buried deep inside of him, everything finally free after years of begging for release.

‘Then I ended up getting chucked in the joint because of it, on some bullshit grounds and he never fucking came to see me but fuck, there’s so much more to it.’ His eyes twinge and he swipes at them quickly, he is not doing that right now but he can’t stop the way his face aches from the tension he’s holding. Everything feels like it’s about to concave in on itself, his chest, the walls, the earth. He needs to escape before it’s too late. ‘Doesn’t matter, shit, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.’

His lips sting with the lie, he does want to talk about it more, he wants to talk about it until his throat is raw and the words come out dry but he can’t. He’s never had the proper chance to talk about it - no one cared in prison, Mandy sure as hell never asked - though he’s sure the gossip in her wanted to and he’s sure as hell never offered anything up but he can’t. He can’t weigh Roy down with any more of his baggage, not if he wants some semblance of a friendship to remain, the guilt eating into his gut as he shoots a look at the clock.

‘It’s almost 6am, man.’ Mickey says, avoiding Roy’s eye as he places the half full beer on the coffee table. ‘Gonna crash, you good with that?’

‘Yeah.’ Roy says, his voice unsure but he doesn’t argue. ‘Lainie will be in soon, but she-’

‘Don’t worry about it man, sleep like a baby.’

Roy nods, and shuffles into the bathroom at the end of the hall, leaving Mickey alone in the alien room. He shuts off the lights and the room plunges into semi darkness, a street light from outside shining through the small window in the kitchen. He shrugs off his jacket and shoes, lies down and squeezes his eyes shut. If he can get a few hours in before sneaking out in the morning, that’ll be enough, he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome - he already feels bad enough as it is. He hears the bathroom door open and Roy padding out into the hallway, his weighted steps falling heavy against the cheap floorboards.

‘Bathroom’s yours.’ Roy says, stopping at the threshold of his bedroom.

Mickey opens an eye and acknowledges him with a nod, ‘Thanks.’

There’s a pause, and he hears Roy suck in a breath. ‘Mickey?’

‘Yeah.’ He whispers, his eyes closed again - the complete darkness is easier to navigate, at least then he’s in control of something.

‘Sounds like you gave a lot to this guy.’ Roy’s voice is low and Mickey has to strain to listen, not that he particularly wants to right now but he can’t help the way his ears perk up. ‘You clearly think he’s worth that trouble… it’ll be okay, man.’

Something shifts in his chest and he screws up his eyes even tighter, nodding because he doesn’t trust himself to say anything right now, his throat caught. There’s a moment, then he hears the door click, Roy leaving him once again alone with his thoughts.

Did he overreact in the diner? Did he, once again, jump the gun and consider the worse?

He wonders what Ian is doing right now.

Is he sleeping? Is he peaceful? Is he restless? Is he fucking some twink into his mattress, their conversation and night together already forgotten?

He groans, smacking a hand against his forehead, begging things to just shut the fuck up for one second, he just needs his sleep.

He knows he shouldn’t care.

Except he does, he does and he always will. Roy’s right, Mickey did give a lot to Ian, his heart out and open, reading for the taking.

When it comes to Ian, his heart will always be ready for the taking.

He squeezes his eyes shut, tighter than before and lies there in the darkness, hoping the night will bring peace and swallow him whole.

On his slow walk back home from the diner where he left Ian, he threw his phone impulsively down a subway grate.

It had been buzzing insistently from Ian’s calls and he couldn’t take it anymore, every single vibration digging right underneath his skin and making him feel sick. He couldn’t bring himself to answer, his hand shaking as he pulled it out and Ian’s name flashed on screen, he knew if Ian got down on his knees and begged, he’d walk right back into that diner and pretend nothing ever happened.

So without giving it much thought, he threw it down a drain somewhere around Union Square.

Now, two days later, and leaning against the counter of some second hand phone store in the mid East 30s, he regrets it.

He left Roy’s with his heart heavy in his chest but somehow his shoulders feeling lighter. He didn’t completely have the clarity he was so dearly craving but at least his brain had stopped pounding awfully every minute of the day. He entered the subway in Astoria and boarded the train back into Manhattan because after avoiding it for well over 24 hours, he realised he probably needed to shell out for a new phone.

‘I’ll have that one.’ He sighs, pointing at an old iPhone going for 50 bucks. It looks like shit but that was the most he could scrounge together for a new one and he wasn’t about to spend the afternoon with his arm down a grate. The guy working the register nods, and passes the phone and Mickey throws down a couple bills, grunting out a thank you and leaving the store. He’ll have to live off instant ramen and dollar pizza for a month, but he’ll survive, it’s not like he eats fantastically at the best of times anyway.

He doesn’t think about Ian trying to contact him, he blocks it out and switches it off in the best way he can but he can’t help feeling the guilt creeping low in his gut, reminding him of the days he was the one blowing up Ian’s phone, concerned and begging. He tries so hard to maintain his anger at Ian, to keep that fire lit and burning, but he’s exhausted by it all. It makes him feel like shit and it washes over him like sludge, thick and gross.

He rides the crowded 6 train home, his brain elsewhere, unbothered when he’s shoved up against a pole by two confused tourists, maps unfolded and attempting to differentiate between an express and a local. He’d usually tell them to fuck off, but the instinct never comes. He stops in a Duane Reade on the walk between the subway and his apartment for an overpriced 6 pack, but almost walks right back out again when the tired cashier rings him up in a way that reminds him of Ian’s Kash and Grab days. It’s a simple hand flick as he presses the buttons, but it’s enough to make Mickey squirm, pulling him back to the hot hot heat of the summer after juvie and Ian’s young puppy dog eyes.

He trudges up the fourth floor walk up, his feet heavy, weighed down by both the beer and the brick sized lump in his throat. He turns his key in the lock and bites down a sigh of relief at the empty apartment, sending out quiet thank you to the universe that Mandy isn’t home. He hasn’t seen or spoken to her since before the wedding, and now he’s unsure what he’ll do when he does.

It takes him an hour or so once he gets home to set up his phone, it’s confusing and there’s too many fucking options these days, but he manages to get it done and only swears once or twice. He’s got a new number too, so he’s got to go through all the bullshit of pulling together his old contact list - not that he even had that many people to text before.

He sighs, and pulls out his wallet from the pocket in his jacket, opening it up and taking out a small, neatly folded piece of paper from the little pocket where a picture can go. It’s a crumpled, old CVs receipt that’s been in there for years and he flips it, reading the 3 mobile numbers scrawled on the back.

Mandy.

Sandy.

Ian.

He scribbled the digits down years ago, the summer after he came out and Mandy was thinking of skipping town to Indiana. He has them memorised by now, but he keeps them written down, just in case.

They’re the only ones he’s ever needed, the only ones he’ll ever need.

He dials quickly, before he thinks about it too much and brings the phone up to his ear. It rings for a moment, then the line clicks.

‘Mickey.’ Sandy says, dragging out his name in lieu of a greeting, her voice tinny but warm and comforting nonetheless. She’s always been the type of girl to skip the pleasant formalities, it’s one of the reasons they get along so well - not really giving a huge fuck. ‘Long time, man.’

‘Need some advice.’ He grunts into the receiver, his fingers tapping against the counter top, agitated and restless, but pleased to hear her voice. ‘Changed my number.’

‘Why?’

‘Broke my phone.’ He sighs, his hand coming up to rub across his eyebrows, irritated at the thought of his dramatics. The thought of Ian trying to contact him but not being able to is stifling and he feels like an idiot that he’s even hoping it’s a possibility.

‘Fuck you do that for?’ Sandy asks, her tone twisting with confusion. Mickey pushes away the thought of Ian and pictures where she is right now, his heart mellowing at the image, hoping she’s keeping herself busy and out of trouble. They don’t talk a huge amount, but their relationship picked up after Mickey moved out to New York. She called him out of the blue one day, he still doesn’t even know how she got his new number, but she confessed that she’d moved out of Chicago years back and was living in Philadelphia with some girl she’d shacked up with - that’s why she didn’t come and see him. He felt bad, briefly, that he hadn’t tried harder to find her after he got out, but as soon as it was apparent there was no hard feelings on her side, it was replaced by a nice comfort knowing there was another openly gay Milkovich in their fucked up family tree, that he wasn’t the only rotten apple amongst the lot.

‘You know- remember, uh, you remember Ian?’ Mickey starts, his breath tightly held as he waits for her response. His hand grips the phone as he hears Sandy shift on the other end, there’s a rustle. Ian and Sandy only met a few times, they spent an evening during the hot summer before Ian was diagnosed getting completely wasted like the kids they were supposed to be. It was a nice breather away from everything they had been dealing with at the time, a momentary calm before the storm celebrated with warm beers and weed.

‘Ian?’ Sandy says, her voice controlled. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell.’

‘Sandy.’ Mickey says plainly, he appreciates her feigning ignorance but he really could do with some clarity right now. He presses forward, ‘Yeah it does.’

‘No it doesn’t.’

‘Sandy.’

‘Alright, I’ll bite.’ She sighs, and Mickey pictures her permanent relaxed and unimpressed expression, ‘What about him?’

He pauses, but ultimately decides not to beat it around the bush, he’s too tired and needs the heavy weight off his chest lifted, ‘We fucked.’

Sandy whistles down the line, and Mickey moves the phone away from his ear, cringing. ‘Didn’t know you were seeing him again.’ She says, it’s blunt and Mickey recoils, frowning into the empty kitchen.

‘I’m not.’

Sandy makes a sound of disbelief, something low and throaty before continuing, ‘What’s that got to do with you getting a new phone?’

‘Doesn’t.’ He says before he can stop himself, regressing completely backwards from progress he'd made from the conversation he had with Roy last night.

‘Right…’ She says, clearly not buying Mickey’s bullshit, then her voice shifts like she’s talking to someone else in the same room. Mickey waits it out before continuing, ‘No don’t worry, I got it.’

‘That your girl?’ He asks, distracting himself from the creeping headache at the back of his skull.

‘Rita.’ She says stiffly, the way she always did whenever she was a kid and someone made her repeat something.

‘Right, Rita.’ Mickey says, rolling his eyes though mainly for himself considering she can’t actually see him. ‘Forgot you were bangin’ some chick from the 60s.’

‘Shut the fuck up, it’s Margurite and she’s french.’ Sandy bites, though it’s got an edge of fondness that sends something warm into his stomach. He bites the side of his cheek at the realisation that he misses her. She exhales a breath, and it’s all fuzzy down the line. ‘Got more culture in her little finger than you.’

‘Fuck you, I’m plenty cultured.’ He counters, grinning. It’s nice to smile. ‘Hell, I might as well be the king of culture.’

‘Don’t think a 6 year prison stint counts as culture, Mickey.’ She teases, but it feels like someone’s cut the corner of a balloon in his gut, his momentary pause of happiness deflating into a pile of stretched plastic. He shakes it out as she continues, ‘Back to the important shit though, fuck happened then? Other than the obvious, obviously.’

‘Think I made a mistake.’ He says, his eyes dancing around the room unable to focus on one spot. It’s distracting but not enough to keep his head from pounding.

‘By fuckin’ him?’ Sandy snorts, ‘Probably.’

‘No, fuck .’ He says, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing out through clenched teeth, ‘He told me that he knew I was in New York.’

‘Okay.’

‘He knew I was fuckin’ here and didn’t do shit.’

‘I mean, he knew you were in Chicago too.’

‘Yeah- but, he knew I was out of prison you know, early.’ He says, attempting to build his case but feeling like he’s grasping at straws.

‘Yeah, so the guy didn’t want to see you, it’s shitty but-’

‘Ian.’ Mickey says, because it’s important. Ian’s never just been a guy . ‘Not a guy, Ian.’

‘Ian, yeah, whatever.’ Sandy says, and Mickey can almost see her rolling her eyes through the phone. There’s a pause, before she continues, her tone firm and sad. ‘But Mick, you can’t force someone to love you.’

He swallows, his gut sinking. Something pricks behind his eyes and he wants to say, trust me, I know that.

‘We had this really fuckin’ great night, like really fuckin’ great, where we actually talked about shit like teenagers but then, fuck.’ He rambles, his heart halfway up his throat and ready to be vomited out onto the countertop. ‘He was talkin’ about us again, and fuck- Sandy, would I be a fuckin’ idiot to believe him? ’

It’s rhetorical and thankfully she understands that Mickey isn’t fishing for an answer so she just hums, and Mickey takes that as a signal to keep going.

‘But I could’ve fucked it up now anyway, he was telling me about an episode he had and fuck , I was just so angry at him, at Mandy-’

He stops himself, interrupted by the sound of keys turning in the lock down the hall. Almost as if the universe is sending him a huge fuck you, he hears Mandy’s voice outside, and he cringes, bracing himself.

‘Sandy, gotta go.’ He says, hanging up quickly on her protests. He places the phone back on the counter, the movement controlled and steady. He keeps his eyes down on the countertop, and closes them, counting his breathing. He doesn’t think he can look at Mandy right now, because if he looks at her right now, knowing what he knows, he doesn’t know what to do. He hears Mandy shove her bag down and stomp into the kitchen, her steps stopping when he knows she’s reached the threshold to the kitchen.

There’s a beat. He hears her drawn in a quick breath.

‘The fuck have you been?’ Mandy grunts, his eyes instinctively flicker open and up and it’s the first time they’ve seen each other in the last few days, the first time they’ve seen each other since Mickey found out she had lied .

He doesn’t move, he stays stuck on the other side of the breakfast counter, his feet planted and silent.

His head thumps as he collects his thoughts, their eye contact fierce and intense. She was speaking to Ian behind his back for months, knowing he was in the city, and didn’t bother to tell him once.

‘Mickey.’ She says, her lip curling. When he doesn’t answer she rolls her eyes, moves quickly over to the fridge and pulls it open. A hand comes down on his shoulder, tugging him in an attempt to twist him to face her. ‘Hey shithead, I’m talkin’ to you!’

The touch makes him flinch, and he jumps up, grabbing her by the arm.

‘Get the fuck off me.’ He barks, letting her go and slumping back against the counter. He keeps his eyes down, staring at the wooden planks on the floor. ‘Don’t fuckin’ touch me.’

‘What the hell is up with you?’ She asks, her voice steady but her look of control is betrayed by the way her lip shakes. She steps back and Mickey looks up at her, her face twisted and ugly. She crosses her arms and looks at him expectantly, and Mickey forces himself to look away because he cannot deal with her right now.

‘Go away.’ He says through his teeth, using everything in him to keep his voice steady and assured. He needs not to fly off the handle, he needs to breathe, he needs the ground to stop feeling like it’s about to collapse underneath him.

Mandy groans low in her throat, ‘Whatever.’, her tone bored and plain, it’s so painfully familiar he wants to take it into his hands and pull it apart. ‘You’ve gotta go get the laundry.’

He pushes himself off the counter and grabs a cigarette from his jacket hanging over the back of the chair, lighting it up deftly. ‘Don’t gotta do shit.’ He says, inhaling. Mandy makes a noise of disgust and leans over, pulling the lit cigarette out of his lips and stubbing it out straight onto the counter. He lurches, ‘The fuck you do that for.’

‘Wise up, you moron, haven’t seen your fuckin’ ass in days.’ Mandy says, and Mickey really, really wants to scream at her but he swallows it down. She doesn’t know, clearly. Ian hasn’t told her then, that he spilled the beans, that Mickey knows. Either that, or she’s playing dumb - he wouldn’t put it past her. He doesn’t know if that angers him or relieves him, all he knows is the throbbing pain in his gut and the dull ache in his head. ‘Not that I give a shit, but you coulda dropped me a text- rents due tonight.’

‘Fuck off.’ He snaps, and she rolls her eyes. God, he wants to take her by the shoulders and shake her.

‘Go get our fucking laundry, I gotta go to work.’ She dismisses, stalking out of the room and down the hallway. He hears her keys rustle and the door slam, then she’s gone. He stumbles into his room and sits on the edge of his bed, allowing his head to fall into his hands, his palms pressing into his eyes, wondering how everything in his life became so complicated.

He knows they’ve never been close, they weren’t born to be close, you don’t get to build those types of relationships when you grow up in households like they did. Everything was take, take, take, because you might not get the chance again with Terry around. He cared when Kenyatta was beating her, but she was so stubborn that they couldn’t do jack shit. Milkovichs don’t need help nor do they offer help, not when they don’t have to. He was protective of her during school, but mainly because you have to be protective of your kid sister otherwise you look like a useless bum. He didn’t really care. He didn’t know how to care. He didn’t know how to care about anything until Ian came along and forced him to.

Yet knowing all this, knowing that his relationship with Mandy might as well be nonexistent, everything in Mickey aches.

He thought stupidly that at least when it came to Ian, Chicago and their entire childhood that they were on the same page. They’d agreed to leave it all behind them. Keeping the fact that she knew where Ian was, that Ian knew where he was and wasn’t actively seeking him out to reconnect, a secret? That cuts deep. It cuts so deep Mickey doesn’t know if it’ll ever repair itself and stop the bleeding. It’s a betrayal in a relationship he didn’t even know had the capacity to have betrayals.

He hears the door swing open again, and the metal on metal sound of keys being thrown down onto the countertop. He pulls himself up off of the bed and wanders out into the hallway to survey the commotion, his chest heavy.

‘Mandy?’

‘Fuckin’ where are you!' She screeches, the sound frustrated and trill, making him jump. There’s a slam, and he moves quickly, following the sound of her vexation. He stands in the doorway to her bedroom, her head snapping up when she catches him, ‘The fuck you want?’

He feels himself being pushed over the edge. He falls.

‘You never told me.’ He says, the words vomiting out like the stab of a blunt knife. He didn’t expect it to come out like that, but really, he’s not been expecting a lot of things that have been happening recently.

Her face screws up, confused. ‘What?’ She says, irritated as she continues to rifle through her drawers, clothes flying out as she groans in frustration. She’s clearly looking for something and perhaps if Mickey was a better brother he’d help her out, but he’s too busy being blindsided by everything else he’s been dealt with.

He moves forward quickly, slamming his hand down hard on the dresser’s top, sending things flying. ‘You never fuckin’ told me.’ He accuses, it’s harsh and growled, but true.

Mandy steps back, running her fingers through her hair and ignoring his glare as she stomps around her room, pulling things open and apart. ‘What are you talking about now, Mick?’ She sighs exasperatedly, refusing to take the bait and look at him.

‘You and Ian.’

She freezes, mid-holding up her bag upside down to tip the contents out, the only movement in the room being her phone and make-up falling out onto her mattress.

‘I know you guys were talkin’, I know you told him that I was here.’ He swallows, choosing his words carefully, grasping at the remaining ounce control. His voice shakes, ‘Mandy…’

She stares at him, frozen, ‘I-’

‘I know he didn’t want to see me.’ Mickey pushes forward, keeping everything cool and leveled, because he needs to keep his head on, he needs to stay grounded, he needs that upper-hand.

‘What?’

‘The fuck can you keep that from me?’ He says, the words painful and heavy. His breath falling out of him weighed and ragged, his chest rising and falling. His fists curl and he holds them close to his chest, almost as if he’s trying to keep himself together from falling apart. ‘When you know, you fuckin’ know…’

‘Mickey-’ Mandy tries, abandoning her task at hand but not moving from her position on the other side of the bed. Her skinny arms wrap around herself, her knuckles whitening at the grip. ‘That’s not-’

‘We left it behind, we agree and we fuckin’ ditched that shithole-’

‘Mickey- .’

‘-and everything with and yet, you’re playing fucking besties with Ian-’ He rants, his hands clenched and everything tight, his chest heaving. Something flies at his head and hits the doorframe above his head, he snaps his head up and watches the hair brush clatter to the floor.

‘Listen to me, asshole!’ Mandy yells, her eyes wet and face held. Mickey holds back his instinct to fight, to scream, to push and breathes heavy, staring at her twisted rage. ‘Stop being so fuckin’ selfish for one second, and listen to me.’

‘Fuck you-’ He snaps, his reserve quickly crumbling at the mere idea that he’s thought about himself once amongst everything but Mandy launches a book at his head and cuts him off.

‘He was fucking manic!’

The book falls to the ground and the ground falls out from beneath Mickey’s feet. Something clicks into place and hits him so obviously, so plain as day, a fierce smack in the face. As his brain races to catch himself up with everything, Mandy pushes forward, her voice breathy and thin.

‘He was having an episode when he called me out of the blue, I didn’t know how the fuck he got my number but he did.’ She explains, and every single word pounds on Mickey’s skull. ‘I couldn’t just fucking- fucking throw it back at him, could I? He was really going through the highs of it, things got messy back in Chicago and I somehow let it slip that you were here, and he latched onto it, you know?’

‘Fuck.’ Mickey swallows, it’s thick and weighty and full of baggage. Fuck, he’s going to throw up.

‘Then he crashed, and it was bad. He didn’t call me for weeks then out of the fucking blue he walked into the gym and I was sitting there, working reception.’ She says, her arms gesturing out to the side, ‘He was pulling himself back together, still so fuckin’ low but he was trying. He didn’t want me to tell you or see you until he thought he was fully levelled out.’

Mickey breathes, blood rushing in his ears, counting down from ten in his head to keep his feet steady on the ground.

‘He didn’t want to do that to you again.’

He doesn’t say anything, his stomach reeling, and she stares at him.

‘Don’t fuckin’ blame him, don’t you do that-’

‘Wouldn’t ever.’ He bites, but his hands clench, the image of Ian’s face when he left the diner etched into his brain. God, he feels so stupid. Ian had told him he had been through an episode, he told him he was struggling, and yet, as soon as Mickey discovered about him and Mandy, he threw all of that to the wind and allowed himself to get carried away.

‘Fuck.’ Mickey curses his frustrating need to jump to conclusions before allowing his head to catch up, he’s wasted so much time reverting back to his old take on the world, allowing his teenage snap reactions to fall back into place. He’s tried so hard to move on from the person he was, the hard shell of a boy his father crafted, yet it’s moments like the one with Ian that send him falling back into those habits.

Mandy walks over to him slowly, he doesn’t move away, and she places a hesitant hand on his tense bicep. He surprises himself but not shaking it off, allowing it to sit there, grounding him in the now and not 10 years previous.

‘Call him.’ She says, her voice whispered but serious. She looks him directly in the eye and maintains her gaze, ‘He’s a mess.’

He nods, ignoring the nagging thought of of course she already knew and she squeezes his arm before she pulls her hand away, shoving at his shoulder playfully.

‘Now let me find my MTA card before I get busted for jumping the turnstiles again.’ The corners of her mouth curl up, the smile small and sad. It sends a twinge down his spine and into his gut, and for once, he wishes things were softer between the two of them.

‘Take mine.’ He says, surprising himself. His throat works around backtracking and taking back the offer, but he snaps his gaping mouth shut.

‘What?’ She twists her body round to him, confused, her hands buried deep in the pockets of an old pair of jeans.

‘Take mine.’ He says again, ducking his head. He doesn’t want this to be a big deal, even if it feels like it is. ‘It’s on the counter...I ain’t going anywhere right now.’

She looks taken aback, usual generosity between them never extending further from sharing a pack of beer or two, even then it’s rare.

The crease between her brows soften, but the air suddenly feels stifling, ‘Thanks, I-’

‘All good.’ Mickey interrupts, his hand waving in dismissal. She nods, giving him one more looking before leaving and padding out into the kitchen. Mickey leans back, lightly banging the back of his head against the doorframe a couple of times, hoping for some sort of release as his skull hits the wood. Nothing comes and he sighs, hearing the front door close once more, and he pulls himself up off the wall and shuffles into his room. He thinks about calling Sandy back, but instead collapses down onto his bed, his sitting on the edge. His bones ache, his chest aches, his head aches.

He tries to collect his scrambled thoughts, but everything merges into one big complicated ball of fuck up. Being mad at Ian was easy, he was able to justify his rage by blocking out the cracks in his heart and jumping the gun to think the worst - but now he just feels like a complete tool. He should’ve thought about it more, allowed himself a moment of pause, to think, to listen to Ian’s defence, before he flew off the handle and left. His anger at Mandy dissolves, she was trying to protect Ian, and he can’t blame her, his chest aching, because that’s all he’s ever wanted to do too.

He doesn’t even know how long he sits there, hands pressed into his face, but when he finally manages to pull himself together enough to stand, something in the corner of the room catches his eye.

Sitting on the old chair he bought from Goodwill in the corner of the room, is Roy’s suit, folded and pressed neatly.

The suit he left on the floor of Fiona’s apartment.

He moves slowly over to the folded clothes, eyes wide, afraid that if he blinks then they’ll disappear, poof into the air.

There’s no note, nothing to go along with it except Mickey’s confusion and his heart halfway up his throat. He slides the folded clothes under his hands, cradling them gently, and they’re smooth and ironed under his touch. Everything suddenly feels incredibly heavy, the suit, his arms, his heart and he reaches out a hand on the dresser closest to steady himself.

It’s an olive branch, a life raft, a white flag of surrender.

A peace offering he so doesn’t deserve.

He’s suddenly hit with the gravity of the mistake he made. It rolls over him, not like a wave but a wild tsunami, crashing over him and drowning everything he thought he had stable and solid out.

He gasps for breath, and kicks to the surface.

He knows what he has to do.

#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ihadigeiw

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crypticcatalys · 5 years ago

Text

Dreams Ive had involving Avatar in no particular order or context.

(This is super long btw)

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

11/1/18

I was a na'vi and i was with neytiri and jake at some waterfall. We were Parachuting i guess because we parashuted to the end on the fall and into a lake. There was a barrier at 8 feet so we swam to a car in a parking lot and bille joe Armstrong was there and we drove to a gas station, i woke up.

11/9/18

I was a na'vi. I was jake and neytiri's kid apparently. And tsu'tey was alive and said he was my weird uncle super loud. We were at some seafood restaurant and it was beside the animal kingdom park. These people where being jerks to us and being racist because we were na'vi. There was a tornado for a second then someone yeled that grace was dying so we started running and hopping animal habitat fences and lines while someone was narrating then the girls from despicable me were there. The park was different the floating mountains were still there but it also looked like a mall. Rumpelstiltskin was there and being evil. And something was at stake? I woke up

11/14/18

I was in some warehouse at first then I was at home. Then me and my friends were walking to my grandmas house. I was a na'vi again i think, and they mentioned we were going to go see another na'vi that looked female with a Hispanic accent named Alex i think and that he sold Rick and Morty balloons. My friend said that he wasn't nice and that the last time they saw him he crapped himself? I woke up after that.

11/23/18

I was in some house and there was a guy there he was abusive so I threw a chair at him and my grandma was there. We ran and then we were at some bridge leading to Flight of passage. The bridge was like a rollercoaster because when i crossed it it kept moving. In the ride queue there were Toruk the First Flight performers and it was actually cool. But the actual ride/link area was like a movie theater and it wasn't even flight of passage. It was a 'modern disney character life' simulation movie thing. I woke up from anger.

11/27/18

I was na'vi and i was in this building (our home?) And it was collapsing. Fire was everywhere and when it was destroyed everyone was holding each other and crying.

12/2/18

I was at the store with my mom and my friend was there. I could fly so i picked my friend up and we were on top of the aisle. Some couple was fighting and me and my friend went back to the floor and we ate these heart shaped sugar cookies. Then i heard the song 'Direhorse' and there were Toruk performers there. They were on this stage type thing that sorta went into the ground. I got excited and one of the performers gave me a spear from the Tipani and it was cool. Then i was Booker Baxter and i was telling raven that i could not tell nia that i could fly because she would be sad? I woke up after that.

12/12/18

I was a avatar driver this time. I was with Grace in her avatar and we were in some auditorium type place. We had left on grace's ikran(i guess she had one) and we went to 7-eleven. Grace was looking or was doing something and she had mentioned her old middle school. Some kid was on the roof of the gas pump area and they hung up a couple of laminated song lyrics. Me and grace went back to the auditorium and it was nature-y all of the seats were gone and it was like a outdoor elivated buffet on a waterfall and the roots of this willow tree at the top of the waterfall sorta made seating areas. Me and grace were at a table across from some Korean group from YouTube rewind and jackie chan was there. They all had twins and they were eating cake. One of them gave me a na'vi doll like the ones at Disney. I started eating then i woke up.

12/18/18

I was in some medieval park? And on some sort of field trip. Some couple was mad and calling for someone to come and pick them up. Then something happened and everyone was yelling and causing chaos. The bus/picnic bar thing we drove there had tables full of cake but the benches were gone. Then grace and jake were there and grace told jake that he needed to eat and he said "ok mom" grace smiled and then i woke up.

12/22/18

I was at my school but it had voltrons colors everywhere and I was helping this one kid in a wheel chair get down the stairs but the first time I went down them it didn't work? We went outside and there were busses that were the color of the lions and we had to get on a certain bus. I put the kid on the yellow bus and I got on the black one but it was purple. We drove somewhere shady and then we were in this haunted house above the floor from another dream I had like 2 months before and it was exactly the same except there was this ghost lady robot thing and she was following us and she touched my friends shoulder, and then I was the only person on the ride. Then I was on the floor and there was this mickey mouse stuffed animal puppet thing and it was sorta bouncing in front of me. Then I sorta went Lucid and made the area change to the Tree of Souls from Avatar. I woke up for a second then I was on the side of some highway and I was on a farm in some tribe. Someone shot a arrow through my finger so this nice old lady and her granddaughter broke the arrow and healed me and it reminded me of the Tawkami. Then there was random klance in this old apartment then I woke up again.

12/28/18

I was in a goldfish commercial area under the bed, then i was in a mansion in pixie hollow and the main cast and queen clarion was there. There was a parade sorta and then a buffet with rainbow fruit on pancakes and sugar. I went through some doors and i was home? But it was different. My room was set up like my grandmas and there was some person in there and then i was in the hallway bathroom at my grandmas and some boy was in there. Then I was on a human vacation base on Pandora with some family. I was a avatar driver and there was a field trip group and a class. Music from Toruk was playing and it was the Tipani's theme. Then me and the family went to this cafe type thing and we were beside Na'vi river journey and i could hear the Shaman singing. I got a chocolate cheesecake with whipped cream and when i started eating i woke up.

1/1/19

Sam Worthington was giving me a tutorial on how to draw Jake but the nose was weird.

1/8/19

I was watching this park and jake was there. He was in his human body at first with max and grace in some lab and grace took his phone. Then jake was in his avatar body and he was playing a game with the omyticaya he said something about the color yellow and everyone jumped and laughed. Some amusement park was being shut down then I woke up.

1/17/19

Connie from SU was playing hidden valley but the characters were the diamonds. Then i was in my culinary class and i was talking about someones mom and saying that she was racist. My teacher got mad at me then i was behind a curtain on a stage and this woman was dressed in leather and talking to a crowd. She was with a guy with a cheap looking ikran mask. Then i was at church and it was my school again. Then my friend was there and I fought her and won. Then i was in the office and was getting writen up but mom wasn't. Then i woke up.

1/22/19

James Cameron and Sigorney Weaver were directing Toruk. I was looking for them in the crowd and fangirling. Toruk looked weird with arms instead of wings. Sigorney said hi to me from the technician booth that was beside my chair. Sam Worthington was there and he and sigorney had a scene in the play as their Avatar characters. Jake had accidentally stole a bow and arrow and grace went 'mom mode' and got mad. Then someone had shot a arrow and it hit him in the head but he had protective gear on so he didn't really die. Then i was back home but my living room window showed the stage of the show an sigorney said hi again and i got really happy. Then i opened my dryer and it was full of nickelodian stuff.

2/4/19

Neytiri and jake were role swapped so he was a born Na'vi and she was a dreamwalker. I was a dreamwalker and neytiri's adopted daughter for some reason. We were talking to Quaritch and he was threatening us because he was about to bomb hometree. We convinced him to let us talk to the na'vi and get them out in time. I woke up in my avatar's nivi and jumped to the branch neytiri was on and we went to go find the others.

2/6/19

Hometree was about to be attacked. The RDA was using these weird missiles underwater and flooded Hometree. Avatar Norm was hanging on somewhere near the top of the tree watching toruk fly through a waterfall that formed while saying "come on, where are you" then the water drained and jake and neytiri floated out of the tree base and jake was dressed in his tawtute clothes and Neytiri was a Tessa Thompson look alike in a purple glittery suit and black heels. They started breathing again and jake said something about being relieved.

2/10/19

I was in some field with my Chromebook and on the Avatar website. It was really colorful and pretty. The trailer for the second movie was up but before i could watch it i had to play this mini game. I was Tsu'tey and i was at this river and Mo'at and Eytukan were on a dock on the otherside. This boat had floated towards me and it was full of tools and weapons and Mo'at said I had to find 3 spear heads. I found them and then i was following the river until i was on a dock. I walked to the end of it and i thought i was at the Metkayina clan and i thought i was going to see Bailey Bass' character but i just saw irl her and a bunch of tawtute. Apparently it was a human village and i was the only Na'vi there. I got scared i think and ran. Then some characters from bunkd were there and Mateo was embarrassed about something so he left and was making his own camp when destiny took a tarp/map and gave it to him so he could make a tent. And the camp was by a cornfield.

3/24/19

I was watching Toruk live and i was onstage. Entu, Ralu, and Tsyal were there. The left part of the Hometree stage was deflated. It was really colorful. The tipani spears were on the center stage area. The omiticaya were harvesting something (maybe fruit)from the still standing part of the Hometree and music was playing but it wasn't from the show's soundtrack. Then there was water and something happened and i was in my room and mom told me to wake up. Then my alarm clock wole me up irl.

4/17/19

Jake and neytiri were hunting a angsìk. Tsu'tey and two other hunters were there. One was Na'vi and one was Polynesian. Jake had went to do his plan and Tsu'tey told neytiri it would not work. But they heard something and when they turned around jake was covered in mud and three angstìk were dead. Tsu'tey said that he was surprised and neytiri was dragging jake to a river to make him clean the mud off.

4/25/19

Backstage of Toruk. Friends with Tsyal and the Tsahìk. Cannibal Hotel.

4/27/19

Broke into some guys house with me grandma. Backstage performing TORUK at school on stage. Changed from Tipani to Omiticaya. Found a green chest cover.

5/22/19

I was in ponyville looking for fluttershy's house then i was on the street that connected mine and my Grandma. It was a part of a dream i had before. A pallulukan was there and my grandma kept talking and it almost heard us. Then Neytiri was there and looking for a kid version of Peyral who was hiding in the house we were beside. It was raining so we went in then suddenly Neytiri was dressed as Tsyal.

6/13/19

I was taking a bath and washing the dishes at the same time. Then I was a Na'vi again and we were preparing to fight the RDA. Except we were hiding in my grandads basement/garage and it was huge. There were 2 separate sleeping areas with over 100 bunk-beds in each area and a cafeteria. It was like the Avatar long house but bigger. Norm was there and he was my uncle and he was in his avatar body. The other clans started arriving and going to find beds and get food. I was embarrassed about something. Neytiri was a human/avatar and toruk makto and my mom again in this dream. She was coming back from somewhere but I woke up before seeing her.

7/8/19

I met James Cameron and talked to him about how much I love Avatar and how many times I watched it this year. And at some point Ralu and Entu were involved.

7/14/19

I was selling newspapers at a grocery store when someone made fanart, and a fanvideo of Asal (my avatar oc). But they shipped her with Entu. But I still left a like because it was nice.

8/2/19

I was in the AVATAR program but everything looked different. The technology looked more alien than human. The sleeping areas were just these bunks cut into walls with glass doors so there was no privacy or quiet because they were in a busy hallway. The base was confusing to walk through. Everything looked the same. The link room was smaller and had three link chambers. But they looked different and were glowing orange and black, or purple. Only jake could link completely. Mine and Norm's wouldn't work. Until mine did after a few tries. I could feel my tail move but then I was put back in my human body. We didn't go outside. Then I was in Neytiri's body and i was flying around the Pandora theme park. I was flying around the floating mountains before I was in the line for flight of passage with my friend. The line queue had a Quaritch robot talking about something and part of the millenial falcon in it. We got on the ride and the chairs were like a movie theater and the screen mention a patronus bracelet. Then I woke up and it felt like I was unlinking.

8/10/19

I was in the school and I had to use magic to change a sink full of water into Vodka but I turned it into champagne. I was being graded on it and I got a B. Then I was on a alien planet with two other people. We were found and brought to a base that was playing Christian Horror movies as a joke. We were taken to a back room were they gave us Toruk makeovers. I had started to put the suit on and and had just started to paint my face when I woke up.

#omatikaya #pandora: the world of avatar #na'vi nation #dream #dreams #dream diary #my mind did this #james camron avatar #toruk the first flight #na'vi #confusion #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar dream

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fairyscribbles · 6 years ago

Text

Threats. (XIUMIN VAMPIRE AU.) 1/2

Hello dears! I have found this gem from my AFF account, so I hope you will enjoy it!

!WARNING!: Contains mention of rape, bullying and drugs. If this is uncomfortable for you to read, please refrain from doing so when the party scene starts!

With a shaky hand, you threw in another quarter. Your other one held up the local newspaper with the numerous ads circled with a red marker. Most of them were by now crossed out with a black pen.

"Hello?"

"Oh, h-hello, my name is ___?" your voice spoke with insecurity as you hoped your best you wouldn't cry. You were a college student, and college students do not cry, dammit!

"I'm sorry for bothering you, but I saw your ad in the paper about you renting a room?"

"Oh, oh dear, I'm sorry, but we already rented it out." you fell silent for a second, eyes closing tight to prevent the tears from leaking. This was a bad dream. This wasn't happening.

You came into this town to study at its local college. It was a very good one that you got full scholarship to and so you took the chance, not caring how far it was from your home, your parents, the things you knew and loved. You tried your best to be optimistic about it- smiling widely when saying your goodbye to your parents, promising them that you'll take care of yourself and that you won't do anything stupid and that if there was any problem, you would call them straight away. You broke that promise when your dorm suddenly rejected you, leaving you on the street with one feeble suitcase of clothing and misty eyes. It wasn't supposed to be that way. You were supposed to have an awesome roommate and have a great time at the dorm, not this crap. Not because apparently a daughter of one of the biggest sponsors of the school decided she wanted a room just for herself and that way she shut you out. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair a single bit.

"Darling?" the voice of the elderly lady snapped you from your thoughts and you barely bit back the sob that threatened to escape your lips.

"O-oh, I'm sorry, I just...got lost in thoughts. Thank you anyways."

"You're welcome, love. Good luck on room hunting." you choked a broken thank you before letting the old lady hang up first. You took out part of your anger on the phone booth, slamming down the speaker as hard as your shaky hand could. With no hotels in the proximity of the town, you were doomed to go through the night on the streets and there was no way you wanted to experience that.

Fuck this. Seriously fuck this shit.

A voice cleared itself behind you, making you jump.

"I apologize for eavesdropping...but are you okay?" you turned around to look at the man who just struck up a conversation with you. He almost looked younger than you, with his round baby face (which still mysteriously was able to sport sharp jawlines), big brown eyes and a small, gentle smile. His hair was spiked up and he was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white shirt, an attire so simple it was attractive. You realized how horrible you must look and so you hastily wiped at your tears.

"Ah, well, um...I guess not really?" you forced a small chuckle out of you after the stranger‘s sympathetic smile.

"I just started out college here, and this is my first day here, and for some reason, I was kicked out of the dorm." your voice started shaking and he cocked his head to the side, listening intently.

"And I'm not from around here and so I have virtually nowhere to go...I tried to find some room for rent, where I could stay, but all of the ads are either too expensive or are already taken." you waved your hand over to the side where you left the newspaper.

"And I almost called all of the numbers by now, so I am seriously... Lost?" you couldn't prevent the last sob from tearing from your throat and there was a lot more where it came from. You were seriously tired- exhausted from the long trip, furious at the school, scared because of the rich girl who literally chased you out of your own dorm room and just about 300% done with life.

"Hey, don't cry. Come on, it's really not cool for a pretty girl like you to cry." the stranger tried to calm you down, rubbing your shoulder with care. Your bawls lessened to hiccups after a while of the man's soothing words and your own set of breathing exercises.

"My name is Minseok." he introduced himself after your cries died down and he was able to pull you into the closest Starbucks, ordering you coffee. You nodded in acknowledgement, sipping in your drink.

"I'm ___. Nice to meet you, Minseok-ssi." his hand reached out from across the table- hardened, pale hand you noted as you shook it firmly.

"I'm really sorry that you had to have such a crappy day at college. If it calms you, though, when it was my first day of school, not that I came late- as I was rushing to class, I accidentally bumped into my teacher and he fell. I didn't realize it was him only until after he came into the classroom. Made my class hell for me." at the visual imagination you chuckled. It also made you think how old Minseok is, when he already got through college- he looked no older than you.

You also noticed how people acted to you once they saw you with Minseok- normally you would have to elbow your way through the crowd while when with Minseok, they naturally moved away. The Barista also moved faster when he ordered the coffee you wanted. Minseok had a natural air of superiority around him, you noticed that now.

"I can help you out, you know." he told you suddenly as you sipped on your drink, making yourself burn on your coffee.

"What? You can?" you asked once you cleared your mouth of the hot coffee. Minseok nodded, taking a sip from his own drink.

"I saw you look for a room earlier today, and I happen to have a room empty." he paused, smiling and tapping the newspaper between you. He tapped the number that you were about to dial.

"I actually put an ad in the papers." you couldn't believe you ears. This man was looking for someone to rent out a room for?

"If you'd like, I can show you the place." Your mom did warn you about not going with attractive looking boys to their homes, but you had no choice- you were practically homeless, with your suitcase by your feet and hundreds of miles away from home. Minseok was the only person who actually answered to your inquiry about a room rental.

A smile graced your lips as you swallowed your coffee.

„I would love to.“

The ride in Minseok’s car was a quick one- he had a very pretty car for being someone as young as he is. The question just how old Minseok is was burning in the back of your throat, but you decided to not ask, just trying to map out the neighborhood Minseok turned into. You were pretty sure you still weren’t at Minseok’s place, because it was full out beautiful old houses, looking out of this league. You felt as if you teleported back sixty years, back to the age of white-picket fences and many story buildings and big back yards and then Minseok pulled into one of the largest one around. The big white house had three floors, with large windows and a beautiful sun porch where you could already picture yourself eating breakfast in the morning or study in the afternoon and oh my god, you never knew you could fall in love with a building, but you just did.

Your love was a tragic one, though, because with the size of the house, you were sure you would never be able to afford even the attic corner. It was too far out of your price range.

In your daze, you never noticed Minseok coming out of the car and going over to your side, opening your door and reaching out for you. You thanked him with a nodding of your head and came out, eyes still stuck to the beautiful house.

“As you can see, the house’s kind of big for only one person.“ Minseok explained, scratching the back of his head nervously. It was almost cute.

“You’re the only one who lives here?“ which automatically meant he is the one paying for everything. He really must have rich parents, or else what kind of job does this kid have? Minseok hummed as an affirmation, locking the car and stuffing the keys in his pants.

“I lived with five other guys, but they found...girlfriends and they moved in with them.“

“So they abandoned you?“ you asked with a false shock and Minseok chuckled.

“You can say that. So...would you like to see the inside?“ he took the suitcase from your hand so you wouldn’t have to lug it around and headed out first, looking back at you with that most charming smile of his that made your stomach flutter with pretty feelings. Pretty quickly, you were aware that soon enough you wouldn‘t want to take to room because you had to, but because it meant you would be living with him.

The house was magnificent. When you first walked through the door, you found yourself in a big hallway with a large staircase on the right side, going upstairs. There was a room on the left- living room, Minseok informed you as you peeked in at the large leather couch in front of the TV, few bookcases filled with books and another door leading to what it looked like a kitchen.

"There's a living room, kitchen and a bathroom downstairs." Minseok informed you, pointing in the general direction of said rooms.

"The bedrooms are upstairs." and with an extended hand, he invited you to look there as well. You smiled at him, reaching down to take off your shoes.

"Oh, you don’t have to." Minseok stopped you.

"The floor is too cold to be walking around barefoot." he told you, taking the heavy backpack off you and setting it gently on the first step of the stairs. You thanked him, beginning your ascend up the old wooden steps which creaked at every movement. You were taken aback at the fact that Minseok didn't make any noise while going up, following you silently like your own shadow. Upstairs, there was a long hall with doors on either side. You quickly counted them in your head and came to the number 5.

"There are four bedrooms and one bathroom, for which I apologize." Minseok said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

"It is an old house, after all." you followed Minseok down the hall to the biggest door at the end of the hall.

"This is my room. If you'll ever need anything, I’ll most probably be here." he chuckled under his breath.

"I love my sleep." you smiled at his comment catching his look for a short second before breaking eye-contact. There was something about Minseok that had you blushing as a little schoolgirl, yet you couldn't quite grasp what it was, or why. Minseok was moving again, away from his room and to the next door.

"This will be your room." the wooden door opened and your jaw fell. The room was enormous, a lot bigger than the dorm room you were supposed to live in. The center of the room was the big wooden bed with white sheets and billowy pillows. The room wasn't richly decorated. The only furniture in the room was the chest of drawers, a wardrobe, the bed and a desk in front of the window with a chair and a small lamp.

"I know it's not much..." Minseok said from behind you and you turned to look at him, mouth agape.

"Are you kidding me? It's beautiful." and too expensive, you already saw. The furniture was antique, there's no way you can save up enough money to rent out the room for a month, let alone long enough for your dorm problems to be settled.

"It's really perfect, but...there is no way I can afford this, Minseok. I...I think I’ll just wait it out before my dorm room will be solved." Minseok's eyes were understanding yet a little bit...disappointed.

"What's the name of the girl you have a problem with?" you racked your mind for a bit, trying to come up the name that harassed you.

"Choi Sunkyu." it finally came to you and the second the words left you mind, Minseok's eyes hardened.

"That won't be settled, ___-yah." the way he said it, the icy tone of his voice made the polite smile on your face die.

"W-why?"

"You won't get your dorm room back. I know that girl, and sometimes, she just goes out her way to make someone’s day crappy. Unfortunately, that someone was you.“ he shot you a small, sad smile, because he knew how you must’ve felt. It’s your first day, and you’ve already made enemies.

„How much do you have?“ he asked you gently, resting against the doorframe.

„Not enough for this place, that’s for sure.” you smiled wryly at him, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Just tell me.”

“I have a thousand on my hand right now…” you went through the money in your mind, almost exactly picturing the way your mother gave them to you, just in case.

“I wanted to rent the room out for 350 a month.” Minseok smiled at you.

“But if that’s a big problem for you, I can knock it down, just until you’ll find the money.” you couldn’t help but to stare at him, wide eyed and mouth slightly opened.

“Would you do that for me?” he only nodded, the smile still in place.

“Why?”

“Well…” Minseok thought about his answer, and until he grinned.

“Let’s just say I’m a sucker for damsels in distress.” -

Your stay at the house was both a pleasure and a pain. It was a little bit of a pain to walk back to the house from school, with the backpack on your back. But the second you came back to the house, the feeling of home washed over you. All the stress, all the nervous feeling fell away. And Minseok...was Minseok. He was supportive, always bringing you food and refreshments when you have a cram session, helping when you cook and throw you a controller when you're bored and he's in the middle of playing PlayStation, switching into multiplayer mode. You found your first friend in Minseok, and he was slowly growing into something more. It was hard not to think about him in a different way when you almost always caught him getting out of shower, with a white fluffy towel wrapped around his lean waist and hair ruffled by the water. You also once barged in on him getting dressed, when you accidentally set the stove on fire and you couldn't find the fire extinguisher.

He was literally your savior, because if it wasn’t for him, you had no idea where you would end up. You probably would’ve stayed the night somewhere outside, and you might have gotten mugged, or worse. You would’ve left your school to go back home and probably decide to never do something adventurous again. But not with Minseok here, who always greeted you with a warm smile that had tingles go through your whole body and dinner that had your mouth watering. It wasn’t very unnatural for you to dream of him, dreaming of him embracing you, smiling that same warm smile he usually did a second before he leaned down and kissed you, making your stomach bloom with butterflies and beautiful feelings.

There were also other things that changed once you moved in with Minseok, and that was how people treated you. When you first came in, you were a nobody- nobody cared if you fell and your books scattered across the hallway. Nobody cared if you needed help, nobody looked at you more than once. But when the word slowly spread out that the foreign girl moved in with him (they always called Minseok that, with emphasis, and you had no idea why), everyone started noticing you more. By this time, you were already used to the shocked glances and tiny whispers as you walked past students, and you were slowly getting used to glares that were sent at you from Sunkyu, the girl who kicked you out of the dorm.

She enjoyed following you around school, watching you do your daily routine, sometimes even visiting you at your work to make it a bit harder for you, but nothing deliberately aggressive against you. You never would’ve believed she would do anything more than spill coffee that you were bringing her and so each time that happened, you just bit your tongue and smiled, offering to bring her a new one.

You needed to get through the last two hours of your shift, so you can go home and prepare. One of your friends has invited you to the frat party happening tonight, and even though you enjoyed nights spent with Minseok, you thought a little break of routine would do you good.

Only two more hours, ___.

And then, you’re off to the party.

The music was booming through the full rooms of the frat house, and it took you only a while to realize that you probably shouldn't have gone there. After you peeled of yet another hand that slipped somewhere it shouldn't be, you decided to go seek refuge in the kitchen, where all the people seemed sober. You moved past all the grinding couples, dodging a pair pressed up against the wall and pushing a football captain out of the way, before finally finding yourself near all the stored red cups and most of the unopened drinks, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic. Seeing that none were open at that time, you pulled out a new, large cola and slipped a cup from the pile for yourself.

"Here, let me help." A slightly familiar voice told you as an arm reached for the bottle, opening it almost effortlessly. As you looked around, you almost cried out in relief at the dimpled smile and eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Joon! So I found you, after all!" You yelled over the music, leaning in closer so your classmate could hear you. The guy just chuckled, pouring you a cup and handing it over, using it as an excuse to step closer to you.

"I think you are mistaken, ___-ah. It was I who found you." You looked at him with a slightly concerned look.

"Were you drinking, Joon? That was the most poetic thing you have ever told me." You grinned when a flicker of hurt passed his face.

"Can't a guy sound gallant around here without being accused of drinking? God." You exploded in laughter when Joon picked up a full shot glass with a completely serious look and downed it in one go. When he saw you laughing, his facade fell through, though and he joined you in laughing.

"How long have you been here?" He asked, pulling himself a cup as well, before pouring in some cola.

"Just for a couple of minutes. I don't think I'll stay long, though." You tried to ignore the look of a kicked puppy when you told him that and you looked at the slightly familiar girl who is going to literature with you instead. It baffled you how alcohol can change a person, when you saw the shyest girl in the class give the already mentioned football player a lap dance.

"You have to be kidding me! You can't leave just now! The party just started, and I'm pretty sure I could be able to get a lap dance from you until the night is over." The drawl was attractive, just as his small smirk when he leaned in a lot closer, down to your face, but you twitched away. Yes, Joon was a pretty hot guy. But he was no Minseok.

"Sorry about that, Joon. I don't think you'll be getting a lap dance from me, but I'm pretty sure that foreign girl- Miranda was it? Would be delighted to." You snickered at Joon's sigh, as he shook his head and took another sip from the glass.

"Okay, though. But promise me that before you leave, you'll come say bye." You laughed at his statement, looking at him a bit incredulously.

"There is a one in a billion chance I'll find you in this mess, you know that, right?" Joon groaned, re-filling both yours and his cup.

"Alright then, I'll be waiting for you in the hallway upstairs. Almost no one is up there, so it won't be that hard to find it. Deal?" He stuck his hand out to you and with a small grin, you shook it.

"It's a gentleman's agreement, ___, that means if you break it, you lose your entire honor. Understand?" You controlled the grin that was coming onto your face, and you shook his hand seriously.

"A gentleman's agreement!" You called out loudly and Joon only twirled an imaginary mustache at you with a look of pride before he disappeared in the ocean of swaying bodies.

You sighed, leaning against the counter and staring down at your cup, wondering if you should pour yourself a little bit of vodka in there as well. You finished off your nonalcoholic drink and threw the cup in the trashcan effortlessly before leaning your head back against the cabinets and closing your eyes.

If you leave now, you wouldn't even have to call a cab. Busses would still be going, and you would be home in less than half an hour. Back home...back with Minseok, who looked so concerned over you when you told him where you were going. You smiled at the memory of his small frown and the slight pout, as he followed you around the house as you prepared, making sure to stop you before you walked out of the house, telling You to not drink anything they would offer you and only drink non-alcohol, because parties like that would have dangerous booze. You laughed at his almost mother-like nature and you only nodded, just to calm him down.

"I mean it, ___. Be careful. These parties can be beastly." His eyes flashed with something, something like longing? You couldn't quite put your finger on it because you were already being honked at by your cab and you had to rush out, briefly hugging Minseok. You sighed. Who were you kidding? It wasn't like this distraction was really going to help you much. Evidenced by the fact that even with the draw of the several multicolored bottles of alcohol lining the breakfast bar, all you wanted to do was go home and spend time with Minseok.

Pushing off the counter, you decided. Maybe you'd just take a bottle home with you and enjoy it there.

Now to find Joon... You battled through the horde of dancing and grinding couples in the living room, trying to get into as least contact as you could with anybody there. You went through the living room barely unscathed, as you got up the stairs.

Joon was supposed to be waiting for you here, but the hallway was deserted. With a slight blush and a look of disgust, you walked past closed door with moans and screams and bangs coming from behind them, and you continued your search for you classmate.

"___!" You jumped slightly as you heard Joon calling for you. You turned around to look at his grinning face appearing from some door and before you could smile back, he was urging you over, calling you inside.

You chuckled, shaking your head and following him to the room.

The door slammed shut.

And the lock clicked.

"Uhh... I was just leaving..." you muttered, trying not to pay attention to the thread of panic that hit you.

"Really..?" he slurred.

"But why..? We haven't even had any fun yet..."

"And you the main event hasn't started yet." A confident, painfully familiar voice came from the bathroom and your heart started beating at a crazy pace when your most feared nemesis came out from the bathroom, holding something what looked very close to a syringe.

And before you even had the chance to think about bailing, two strong arms wound around you from behind, trapping you in a tight grip.

"You know, I was supposed to be the one with Minseok." Sunkyu sighed blissfully, almost as if you weren't screaming your heart out for help and trashing in Joon's arms.

"The money, the face, the body...the reputation..." she sighed, plopping down on the bed you were being currently tied to, and she pursed her lips in thought.

"Only I'm good enough for Minseok. I only needed to be with him for five minutes, and he'd know." When you were finally gagged, she turned to shoot you a sly smile.

"I suck cock like no other." The sweet look then wore off and was replaced by something more... sinister.

"But then you decided to butt in, just like you did back at the dorm. Haven't you learnt a lesson, you stupid bitch?" She slapped you across the face, the impact flinging your head to the side.

"This time, I'll make sure you'll understand. Joon. Give me her arm." You tried to fight, but in your position it was futile. And Joon was too strong. You cried out against the gag, eyes pleading with him.

Please! No, please!

You tried to fight the tears stinging in your eyes but the way she'd slapped you made it hard. When your arm was finally presented to her, her malicious grin made your blood curl.

"Let's see if he still likes you after this..."

People say that when a stressful situation happens to you, that bad type of stressful, life slows down.

Yet when Sunkyu pulled out the syringe with the gooey red liquid and stuck it in your arm with scary precision, it all happened in a flash. She pressed down, and the liquid was injected into your body, making you scream.

It burned. It burned like nothing you have ever experienced before. As if your veins were full of mosquito bites and you couldn't do anything with the itch. You screamed against the gag again, trashing on the bed in wild attempts to free yourself.

"Should I fuck her?" Someone's, maybe Joon's voice was woozy, and your whole world shifted, lost its form as it melted into nothing and then formed itself again.

"No. Take her home. Let's see what Minseok has to say to that." Her voice commanded and you could faintly see her turn her back on you before unlocking the door and leaving you alone with him.

"As much as I'd like to fuck you senseless..." you felt your hands being untied and you heard his words, yet you couldn't understand them. Everything was so...weird.

What kind of drug did they give you?

"I have orders. But she didn't say anything about bashing your face if you ruin my car, so if you puke in there, I'll break your nose." Joon seethed in your ear as he got out of the frat house by the back door, back to his car, where he threw you in the passenger seat.

You couldn’t say a word, you had trouble to breathe normally. It was painful, to watch the blur of the town speed past you when Joon drove away from the party, away from the music and lights and into the darkness of the neighborhood.

“Where…” your voice sounded weird, sounded as if you were talking underwater and it was hard to keep your head up, as you kept banging it against the window.

“Shut up.” Joon cut off your stuttered questions, turning on the music and turning it up. You head pounded with the music and you whined softly, trying to cover your ears.

You weren’t sure if luckily or unfortunately, the car screeched to a stop, and the door you were leaning against was being opened and you were being shoved out onto the cold pavement. Without a word, Joon slammed the door behind you and he sped away, leaving you on the ground alone, in the dark town. You felt you were burning up, sweating, you felt you were having a fever, and you couldn’t help but to grow desperate.

Where were you? Oh my god, what’s going to happen to you?

With a whimper and sobs, you tried your best to lift your head shakily to look around your surroundings. The big white house in front of you looked fairly familiar, and you hoped that someone was home. You needed help and you hoped that someone in that house would aid you.

Your legs felt too weak to stand on them, and you chose to crawl, your limbs shaking heavily under your weight. Each little tug closer made your tears brim more, until they spilled over and you started crying, little gasps and sobs coming from your mouth. The house was nearing, you were already by the front steps, and your head spun heavily as you dropped it against the wood, banging it quite hard.

You couldn’t go further. You just couldn’t.

“Someone…” you called out, but your voice was too quiet.

“Please…help…” you wanted to bang your fists against the wood, but your hands felt dead.

Oh my god, were you going to die?

“P..Please, someone…Help…HELP!” finally, your voice screeched louder than the average whisper, and you heard someone in the house finally move.

“Help me, someone!!”

“Shit, ___.” The voice was familiar. You knew that voice well, and when the familiar scent enveloped you, you reached out blindly for Minseok.

“Minseok…” you cried into his chest as he swiftly pulled you inside. You heard him talking to you, he was saying something, but the warmth, familiarity and safety of the house made you black out.

And the whole world turned around, and you couldn’t remember anything else.

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