#i can’t afford that unexpected eventuality

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part two

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Two - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 1.9k

Months have passed since Johnny and I first crossed paths in the bleak void of the multiverse. In that time, the Borderlands have evolved from a chaotic, unsettling expanse into a strange but surprisingly reliable haven. I've acclimated to its disjointed blend of makeshift settlements and the diverse, often eccentric band of misfits who call it home. One of them is Laura, a fierce warrior with a rough edge, but a surprising softness beneath her surface. She once tried to explain the nature of my variant in her universe, but when she mentioned Logan, it struck a nerve too deep for me to handle. 

Today, Johnny and I are on a reconnaissance mission near the heart of the void, tasked with scouting for any unusual movements. We trudge through the arid expanse, our boots crunching softly over the dry, sandy terrain. The sky is a turbulent mix of colors, the horizon a jagged line of shifting shadows and light. Alioth.

The constant strain of maintaining control over my powers in this inhospitable space is wearing me thin. I can’t afford to let my guard down. We push through a small sandstorm that sweeps across the landscape, its gritty particles stinging my skin. I keep my eyes sharp and my hand resting on the hilt of my blade—a gift from Electra, a gesture of trust and camaraderie.

The oppressive quiet is almost a physical presence, the weight of isolation pressing down on me. We are about to turn back when a sudden disturbance breaks through the stillness. My heart skips a beat as the faint sounds of a skirmish reach my ears. Johnny’s hand clamps firmly on my arm, his grip conveying urgency.

“Did you hear that?” he growls, his voice low and taut with focus.

“Yeah,” I reply, straining to discern the sounds amidst the howling wind. The unmistakable clang of metal and the harsh grunts of a fight grow louder. “Let’s check it out.”

We advance cautiously, our footsteps muffled by the shifting sands, moving toward the source of the commotion. As we approach a tall, metal structure, I begin to climb it, Johnny following to gain a better vantage point. The structure, a rusted remnant of some long-forgotten machinery, creaks under our weight. From the top, the view unfolds before me, and what I see makes my breath catch in my throat.

Two figures are locked in combat below us, their movements a blur of speed and violence. The first is a Deadpool variant, clad in a distinctive black-and-red suit. He’s wielding a pair of katanas with an expert’s precision, slicing through the air with practiced ease. His opponent is unmistakably Wolverine, his adamantium claws extended and gleaming with a deadly sheen. Logan moves with a predator's grace, slashing and dodging with equal skill.

At first, I can hardly believe my eyes. A Wolverine—how could one of his variants be here? My mind races, struggling to reconcile this unexpected sight with everything I know. The scene is almost surreal, like a twisted mirror reflecting a reality I can barely grasp. I glance at Johnny, whose expression has turned serious, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Is that…?” I start, my voice trailing off, unable to articulate the confusion swirling in my mind.

“Yeah,” Johnny confirms, his tone grim. “Looks like we’ve got some serious anomalies here. We need to find out what’s going on.”

I watch as Deadpool and Wolverine continue their fierce exchange, their movements a violent dance. Deadpool’s agile maneuvers and rapid strikes are met with Logan’s relentless aggression. Despite the chaos, there’s a strange familiarity in their fighting styles—both driven by an intensity that makes them almost mirror images of each other.

“What the hell is going on?” I mutter under my breath, my mind reeling from the disorienting sight.

Johnny’s eyes remain sharp as he observes the conflict below. “We need to intervene. This could spiral out of control, and Cassandra could notice.”

Before I can respond, Johnny is already moving, his voice ringing out with authority as he shouts to the combatants. “Hey! We fight each other, we lose.”

The two fighters momentarily pause, their heads turning toward Johnny as he approaches. Deadpool’s head tilts, his mask concealing any visible expression, but his posture suggests surprise. “Dear god, it’s him.” His voice carries a mix of awe and disbelief. I watch cautiously from above, hesitant to step in, my heart pounding at the sight of Wolverine. He looks so much like my own Logan that the resemblance is almost painful.

Deadpool’s voice rings out with an irreverent edge. “Fair warning, gorgeous. You’re going to encounter some indelicate language. A smidge of ass play, but we’ve been prohibited from using cocaine on camera.”

Johnny, unfazed, urges me to move. “Veil, let’s go.” He turns to address me directly, his tone focused and commanding.

Logan’s head whips up, his eyes locking onto me with a mixture of suspicion and recognition. “Y/N?”

I jump down cautiously, my heart in my throat as I watch Logan tense, his claws extending in readiness. I land, a knee on the ground.

“Now that’s a superhero landing!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Logan demands, his voice a harsh growl, the tension palpable.

Deadpool’s eyes widen in realization. “Buddy, I think that’s—”

“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t ask you.”

In that moment, I see it—the familiar huff of his breath, the furrow of his brows, and the flare of his nostrils. I’d recognize my Logan anywhere. His eyes flicker with something unspoken, a mixture of relief and anguish, and his claws slowly retract.

I step closer, my breath catching in my throat. I can barely hold back the tears as I take another step and break into a small run. Logan meets me halfway, his arms enveloping me in a tight embrace. “I thought you died,” he says, his voice choked with emotion as he buries his face into my neck. I squeeze him tightly, my tears mingling with his.

“The TVA, they sent me away. I tried to find you.” I pause, my voice faltering with the weight of unspoken pain. “The others?” I ask, my eyes searching his for answers. He shakes his head, and my face crumples in grief. I had feared this would happen.

Johnny’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp with urgency. “They’re coming.”

I pull away from Logan at Johnny’s warning, my heart pounding as I steel myself. Logan’s face is a mask of pain, and I feel the crushing weight of my failure. I could have saved them all.

Deadpool’s voice interjects with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Who’s they?”

The answer comes in the form of an onslaught of vehicles, their jumbled piles of mechanics and scrap metal creating a menacing approach. Toad, Pyro, and Sabertooth are among those heading our way, their presence a foreboding sign of trouble.

Deadpool sidles up beside me, his tone laced with a twisted humor. “Oh, they’re driving angry. Can we pick this reunion up later, pumpkin?” He glances at me, then at Logan, who mirrors my confusion.

Johnny steps forward, his posture exuding determination. “I got this.”

I steady myself, preparing for the impending fight. “Stay close,” Johnny warns, and I move closer to him, readying myself for whatever comes next. Behind me, I hear Logan release his claws, the familiar sound providing a strange comfort amidst the chaos.

The cars circle us, forming a tight encirclement. “Cassandra is going to be giddy when she sees what we caught. You can’t run. Everybody knows that.” Pyro’s voice drips with malice as their vehicles come to a halt.

“You see anyone running, dick for brains? You’re not gonna love what happens next,” Johnny retorts.

Deadpool’s voice breaks in with manic excitement. “Oh, oh my God. Oh my God, he’s going to say it. Ha! Oh my God, he’s gonna say it!”

Johnny grins, preparing for his signature move. “Avengers—”

“—Flame on!” 

“What?”

I look at Deadpool with a mix of bewilderment and exasperation as Johnny ignites in a ball of fire. Pyro watches, amused and relaxed. I create a temporal clone in the sky, urging it to engage as I manipulate time, freezing the action momentarily. As I resume time, Pyro defeats Johnny’s clone with a burst of flames. The real Johnny lands beside me.

“I know you,” growls a voice from ahead, and I turn to see Sabertooth approaching with a predatory glare.

Deadpool’s voice is a mix of awe and irreverence. “Holy shit… Sabertooth… your brother.”

I snap at him. “Deadpool, can it.”

Sabertooth snarls, his voice a deep rumble. “Ready to die!”

Logan prepares to fight, his stance resolute. Deadpool adds with exaggerated seriousness, “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Time! People have waited decades for this fight. It’s not gonna be easy. Maybe not. Shoot the double and take him down. Side control, then full mount and you ground and pound, until he makes no sound because he’s dead.” He’s gripping Logan’s shoulders.

Wolverine’s expression hardens. “Shut the fuck up.”

Deadpool responds with a mix of arousal and admiration. “Oh my God. Okay, good luck. I’m a huge fan.”

The battle erupts with a ferocity that is almost immediate. Logan’s claws flash with deadly precision, and he swiftly decapitates Sabertooth. The severed head skids to a stop in front of Deadpool, who remarks with a grim humor, “What is it, girl? Is there trouble at the well?” It stops at his feet. “Oh, big trouble.” As Deadpool leans down and picks up Sabertooth’s severed head, I can’t help but grimace at the gory mess. Blood drips onto the sand, and Deadpool’s voice rings out with a bizarre sense of theatricality. 

“Behold! The head of your precious queen, Furiosa!” Deadpool announces dramatically, holding the head aloft like a trophy. “I have the Wolverine. I alone control her. You come for me! You come for her!” He points accusingly at Logan. I furrow my brows in confusion. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s pronounced ‘him.’ I’m gender blind. It’s my cross to bear,” he adds with a wink, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Logan, breathing heavily from the intense battle, turns to me. “Who’s next?”

“Toad! You’re up!” Pyro’s voice cuts through the chaos, and I can’t help but let out a mischievous giggle. I watch with amusement as Toad sticks out his grotesque, warty tongue. I pull out my blade, my eyes narrowed in focus. With a quick, precise motion, I slice through the air, severing the tongue cleanly. It falls to the ground with a wet, squishy plop.

“Fucking nasty,” I mutter as the severed tongue writhes like a headless worm. The sight is both disgusting and oddly fascinating. Toad lets out a high-pitched scream of anguish, and as the chaos escalates, someone flips a switch. I turn just in time to see Logan hurtling towards me, and I brace myself. 

Before I can react, Deadpool appears behind me, and the next thing I know, we’re all smashed together against a massive magnet. The force of the impact slams us into a heap, and I feel myself being crushed between Deadpool and Logan.

“Uh-oh. Holy shi—” Deadpool starts to exclaim before the sound is abruptly cut off. 

The giant magnet presses down hard, and I feel a wave of darkness engulf me. The last thing I hear is Johnny’s distant shout, filled with frustration and concern.

Next Part

A/N: Let me know what you think! I’m sort of loving and hating my writing, next part will be Logan’s POV (maybe)

[getaandlucius]

A brief taste of honey (an emperor Geta love story)

This is a story of two men, of rage, war and eventually: love. Inspired by Gladiator 2 characters Geta and Lucius.

Summary: Former emperor Geta survives but falls now under Lucius' regime. An unexpected story unfolds. Part 1

Authors note: if the beginning of this part upsets you, please feel free to send me a request for a story evolving around our lovely Caracalla.

I also do realize this pairing is quite niche, so if you like to read more about them, please leave a comment or share!

Warnings: death, injury, mentioning of depression, severe stress.

Part 2 ( Part 1)

“Caracalla is dead.”

Lucius turned around. “Excuse me?”

“One of the watchmen killed him. By accident.” his guard told him, looking apologetic.

“What do you mean, by accident?” Lucius struggled to stay calm, though rage bubbled inside him.

“Caracalla had hidden one of his fibulae, sharpening it into a weapon to stab Marcus in the eye. He became positively feral!”

“Yes, I know that part,” Lucius replied impatiently. “But why was he killed?”

“Marcus elbowed him in the temple,” the guard admitted, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Too hard.”

“You fools,” Lucius muttered under his breath. “Where is Marcus?”

“At the healer. His eye was stabbed.”

“Yes, I fucking heard you the first time.” Lucius sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He turned around and made his way toward the infirmary, wanting to have a word with the man.

Once he arrived, he immediately spotted him and strode over, his steps purposeful.

“This is bad, Marcus." He started. "How are we to show the people a new way forward—ways of fairness, law. Of order—when we can’t even control our temper?”

“It was self-defense,” Marcus argued.

“Was it now?”

“Yes.”

“But instead of going to the healer after you got stabbed, you waited until Caracalla was recaptured to elbow him in the temple?”

“...Quite right.”

“So, no self-defense at that point, then?”

“...No, Lucius.”

“Just vengeance?”

“Right.”

“Do you realize I now have to fabricate a believable story as to why Caracalla didn’t deserve a trial like the rest of them?”

“Yes." Marcus looked to the ground with his one good eye. "Just tell them Geta killed him.”

“Contrary to popular belief, that’s unlikely.”

“They don’t know that.”

“My people do.”

“Then tell them he killed himself. Out of despair after being defeated.” Lucius shook his head. These were all weak suggestions and he was starting to get frustrated. To his relief he spotted Ravi in the adjacient room of the healing quarters and made his way over to him.

"A word Ravi?" He pleaded in a low voice. Ravi nodded and took him to the back. Lucius explained his dilemma.

“Caracalla didn’t have long to live anyway, Lucius." Ravi comforted him. "He has been seriously ill both mentally and physically for quite some time now. The signs were already severe, the people know. Tell them he simply didn’t make it.”

Lucius listened in silence, then nodded. “Okay. I'll think about it.”

As he left, he wondered how Geta would react to the news of his brother’s death.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out. A few days later, Lucius overheard the guards whispering about Geta’s breakdown. They spoke in hushed tones, describing how he had become hysterical, repeatedly banging his head against a stone wall until he knocked himself unconscious.

The news left Lucius uneasy. Another dead brother would raise too many suspicions. While the majority of the populace supported him, he could not afford any more unrest or conflict.

“Send him to the healer,” Lucius ordered one of the guards. “And bring him to me after my assembly. I need to have a word with him.”

Later that evening he met with the temporay council. “I can’t have them both dead,” Lucius began the gathering. The council consisted of Ravi and two advisers far into their eighties, whose fathers had been connected to his grandfather, Marcus.

“Why not?” Augustus, one of the advisers asked, his pen drifting above a sheet of paper.

“We need to keep the peace.”

“Who is there to corrupt the peace? The people will follow your lead.”

“If you think there is no polarization among the populace, you’re gravely mistaken.” Lucius rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

The other adviser, Marius joined in. “Who are you talking about, Lucius?”

“Well, for one, the elite. The death of both Caracalla and Geta will alienate the senators and the military leaders previously assigned to the twins—they have a vested interest in maintaining the status quo. These groups rely on the existing imperial system to preserve their power, wealth, and influence.”

"He's right," Augustus agreed. "You risk provoking various factions within the elite, who may seize this opportunity to claim power for themselves. We're on the brink of a power vacuum here."

“But we all agreed the twins are not to be trusted!” Ravi jumped in, frustration apparent in his voice. “We agreed we were to put a stop to tyranny, and the simplest way is to execute them both." He stood up from his chair, facing Lucius. "I don’t condone killing for no reason, but this is a reason. A good reason. You’ll save thousands of lives and improve the lives of thousands more.”

“Yes. But Rome is not ready!" Lucius exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table. How could they be so ignorant? How could they not see there was more than their idealistic ideals?

“What do you suggest?” Marius asked, his tone mocking. “Keep him in our midst? Make him our friend and hope he won't get into a mood and murder us in our sleep?”

Lucius shook his head. “We’ll keep him imprisoned—but not in the dungeons." Lucius explained. "He’ll kill himself that way, if only out of spite after realizing we need him." He shook his head. "No. We’ll keep him locked up, but in one of the rooms in the east or south wing. We’ll let him acclimate, speak with him, and slowly introduce him as a symbol of peace to the elite while we begin implementing our ways. Once our reforms are set, we’ll put him on trial—a symbolic one—to show our modern way of thinking. Then we’ll exile him.”

“Exile him where?” Ravi asked.

“Somewhere he won’t be able to bother us any longer. Maybe Germania, somewhere up north.”

Ravi looked deep in thought. "I'll sleep on it." He responded after a moment. Lucius nodded. "Let's discuss this further tomorrow afternoon." He looked around the room, waiting for Augustus and Marius to approve, then excused himself and made his way to his private chambers.

Half an hour later came a soft knock at the door.

The doors opened, and Geta stumbled in. Bandages wrapped around his head, his skin was pale and translucent, and the dark circles under his eyes had deepened. But this time, his eyes weren’t empty, they burned with rage.

Even though their last encounter had been underwhelming, Lucius braced himself, not trusting those wild, unpredictable eyes.

Geta clenched his fists, his breathing uneven.

“He’s dead?”

Lucius nodded. “Yes.”

“How?”

“I’m sure the guards told you.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“Brain injury.” Lucius cleared his throat. “If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not relieved.” Geta spit out. “Everything you take from me...take, take, take. First my empire, then my freedom, and now my only family.” He took a step forward. “You leave me with nothing.” He sounded almost aggrieved, as though he still couldn’t believe it. He stared at his own empty hands. Then he brought a hand to his chest, struggling to steady his breath. He took another step toward Lucius, his eyes wide, his voice breaking. “Give me back my brother,” he demanded, as though he truly believed he could ask such a thing. That the gods could rewind time or restore the dead.

“I wish I could, believe me.”

“Liar. You filthy, disgusting liar.”

Lucius frowned at the insult but responded evenly. “For political reasons, this is bad enough as it is.” He pointed at Geta’s head. “Which is why I need you to stop smashing your head against walls and risking dying by accident.”

“Who says it would be an accident?" Geta argued. "I wouldn’t have minded if I’d died this morning.”

Lucius studied him for a long moment before nodding. “I believe that.”

“Then just kill me now.”

“No. You’re of use to the system,” Lucius replied, thinking it better to be honest with him.

“I’m to be your pet?”

“If you want to call it that, fine by me, but I prefer the term ‘asset.’”

“For what?”

“Keeping the peace.”

“All you think about is yourself,” Geta hissed venomously.

The irony of those words, coming from one of the most self-indulgent, greedy twins to ever exist, made Lucius chuckle softly.

Geta simply stared at him. Lucius shook his head and stepped closer. From up close, the toll of the past few days was even more apparent. The guards had warned him, but seeing it firsthand was far worse. Geta’s hollow cheeks, frail limbs, and the way he swayed on his feet made him look like he might pass out at any moment.

“You need to eat, Geta,” Lucius said, sighing.

“What if I won’t?”

“Then I’ll have to force-feed you.”

Geta didn’t reply. Lucius let his eyes sweep over Geta’s face.

“Aren’t you glad your brother isn’t alive anymore?” he asked carefully. Then he added, “He would’ve killed you in a heartbeat if it came to it.”

Suddenly, Lucius’s left ear went numb, and his cheek burned like fire. The world around him spun and it took him a moment to realize what had happened: Geta had backhanded him so hard, he nearly lost his footing.

“Don’t you dare ever say that to me again. Ever,” Geta growled.

Lucius rubbed the side of his head, the ringing in his ear replacing the silence. He stood there for a while, processing what had just happened, breathing heavily.

He shook his head. “Don’t do that again. You’ll regret it,” he warned, his gaze sharp as he searched Geta’s eyes. “Trust me on that.”

Geta glared back, still furious, but Lucius noted the grief behind the anger. He would have to tread carefully—men with nothing left to lose were the most dangerous.

Deep down, Geta must know Caracalla would have murdered him if it came to that. But the other way around? Perhaps not. That was food for thought, Lucius concluded.

They stood in silence for a while.

“I’ll arrange a new room for you, close to mine,” Lucius finally said, after the ringing in his ear had subsided. “I’ll assign a servant to ensure you eat and take care of yourself. And I’ll check in on you personally.”

Geta looked away, the fight draining out of him, leaving only sadness in its wake.

“I hope I’m dead by the time you check on me first,” he said, his voice hollow.

“I’ll see to it that you won’t be,” Lucius replied firmly.

“Well, don’t be surprised when your useful asset is no more,” Geta muttered.

Lucius looked at him, arms crossed. He wondered if Geta was being his usual dramatic self, or if he was truly a sincerely depressed man. Given Geta’s physical state, Lucius thought it might be developing into the latter. That was not good news.

Lucius clicked his tongue, then swayed the doors open and ordered the guards to take Geta back to his cell while his new confinement was being readied.

A few days later, a spacious room in the south wing was modified to hold a prisoner in confinement. Geta was moved from his old cell.

To be continued! Please do not share any of my work without my permission! Reblogs, likes and feedback are always welcome of course.

( Part 1)

[motelsnleatherseats]

After Work Happy Hour

“I swear, I never do this,” Dean murmured between short, heated breaths while trying to maintain his composure. It was difficult with Sam’s mouth laying kisses along his jawline just so his counterpart had a moment to catch his breath.

“Yeah, I know. You’ve said that at least 15 times since I kissed you,” Sam replied with a quiet chuckle, moving back to Dean’s lips to lay a lingering one there. The faint remnants of beer and unexpected whiskey shots could be tasted on the exhale.

“Mmn,” Dean mumbled as he moved a hand to push lightly at Sam’s chest, disconnecting their lips again.

He had put in an inordinate amount of effort trying to get back into his own lane after their paths had crossed, and now here he was, locking lips with the younger male while parked in a dark corner of his neighborhood.

“I don’t know if we should do this,” Dean finally managed, his eyes roaming Sam’s features back and forth slowly. Sam sank back in his seat and exhaled a bit of a calming sigh, taking a moment to get himself back in check.

“Are we about to have the whole, ‘this is a bad idea’ talk because we work together?” Sam asked with a breath of a laugh, clearing his throat afterward. He had sensed this was going to come eventually, mostly because Dean always seemed to push back against his initial plans, always second-guessing them and him. It was kind of annoying, honestly.

“Well yeah, don’t you think it’s sort of crossing the line?” Dean asked, licking his mildly swollen lips.

“As much as it crosses the line with you asking me out.”

“I didn’t ask you out. I mean, I asked if you wanted to grab a beer–”

“And now we’re making out in your car. I think that constitutes a date, Dean,” Sam retorted with a shake of his head.

“You know,” Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, conceding defeat. “Maybe this was just the wrong place, wrong time.”

“You’re right. We should move this up to your place in the next 10 minutes.”

Dean stared at Sam in a bemused fashion, but the other male’s expression gave no hint of it being said ironically. His face deadpanned and he swallowed, turning to face the steering wheel again.

“Have you… never done this before?”

“What? Of course I have. Shut up,” Dean stammered, shooting an incredulous look at Sam before clearing his throat again.

“No, no. I didn’t mean it like you’re a virgin or anything. But I mean have you never hooked up with men before?”

There was a thick silence that fell between them and Dean’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, like it was pressed back against his windpipe and trapping any witty retort he might have been able to come up with.

“You know what? This is over. Night is officially over,” Dean finally spoke up, shoulders tense now as he fumbled with his keys before he felt Sam’s hand just above his knee. He paused and glanced back over to the other male stiffly.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to offend you or embarrass you,” Sam chuckled, unable to really believe that his superior was so flustered from harmless kissing. “This doesn’t have to be any more serious than you want it to be. No expectations. I just.. had a really good time tonight, and I think.. well I hope, that we’re comfortable enough around each other and mature enough to take it a few steps further without it getting…” he paused. “Sticky may not be the best word choice, but I’m going to use it anyway.”

Dean took a few quiet moments to contemplate what Sam had pitched. The maturity part should have been true, but Dean had the sneaking suspicion with the way things moved quickly between them that it was going to be difficult to keep it on the down low at work. Honestly, just look at Sam Wesson. And he did for a few long moments, unaware that he was until the younger male’s expression cracked slightly under anticipation of a response.

“We can’t afford to let this get messy, Sam,” Dean finally spoke up, glad to see there was a smile instead of a look of disappointment on the taller man’s face.

“Then you’ll have to help with the clean up afterward,” Sam quipped.

Dean’s eyebrows raised, caught between amusement and surprise at how lackadaisical the other was. Less than 12 hours ago, he was about ready to put his foot down and tell him to forget it, to get any notion out of his head that anything would transpire between the two of them.

“So are you gonna invite me up or are we gonna keep making out in your car?”

“You know, for no expectations, you’re kinda making it seem like you planned this,” Dean replied with a wry grin, and Sam took that as an invitation to lean in and press their lips together once more, easing any lingering tension and hesitation that the elder may have had. 

“Well when opportunity knocks,” Sam murmured against his lips and Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Dean was surprised to see that Sam could keep his hands off of him as they had the elevator to themselves. Surprised, and mildly disappointed, as the time spent without the younger’s hands or lips on him gave him time to reconsider what he was doing. He knew he shouldn’t be messing around with anyone from work, everyone knew that mixing business with pleasure was messy , at best. 

His disappointment faded quickly once he had his keys in the door, because Sam wasted no time in getting those big hands on his waist, pulling him in so they were flush against each other with their lips joined once more, Dean needing to tilt his head upward to meet for the kiss.

It was overwhelming, to feel the full press of Sam’s body against his. His keys fell noisily to the hardwood floor as he moved his hands up to settle against the broad chest before him, and he wondered briefly if Sam ordered his shirt a size too small because he liked to show off his physique or if he was just shit at getting his measurements right. He could feel the warmth of his skin through the material and it was suddenly too hot. He pushed his palms against firm muscle, putting a few inches of space between them.

“Whoa, easy, tiger,” Dean spoke with a breathy chuckle. His mind was foggy, either from the beer and whiskey from earlier that night or Sam’s dime store cologne warmed by body heat. Or both. Probably both. “Gimme a second to get my bearings.”

Dean parted from him and felt his lips tingling and kiss-swollen. He headed further into his apartment with his back to the taller male but he could still feel his eyes on him, intense and lingering. Tiger indeed, he felt like prey being stalked by a hungry predator. He kicked his shoes off at the end of the entry hall and glanced back towards Sam with the expectation for him to do the same before he entered the living room and took a seat on the couch. He could hear Sam give a long exhale through his nose, unable to tell if it was through disappointment or if he liked the cat and mouse game.

“You don’t strike me as a failure-to-follow-through kinda guy,” Sam commented as he took a seat on the couch next to Dean, much too close.

“You callin’ me a chicken?” Dean asked with a lift of an eyebrow. 

“No,” Sam chuckled. “I’m just saying, after what we’ve been through, I don’t expect much of anything to scare you.”

“Well like I said, I never do this. It’s new territory for me and I don’t like to take uncalculated risks.” Dean shifted an inch or two over to give him more room to shrug off his suspenders, letting them sit loosely at his sides.

Sam relented in his straight forward approach as he reclined back against the couch, his large, tanned hands smoothing over the slacks that were a little too tight on him as well. It had to be a physique thing. It wasn’t like he couldn’t consider his muscle mass when shopping for clothes.

“Uncalculated risks,” Sam parroted as he gave a shake of his head. “I feel like you don’t know how to turn off the work persona. You don’t ever just follow your gut?”

Dean considered his words for a moment. The more he thought about it, the longer it didn’t make sense that his career goals were the only thing that he’d been worried about for the last couple of weeks. The only reprieve he had from the stress of a corporate job was the time they spent hunting down the old-timer rattling chains around the office.

“I used to. I think,” Dean responded distantly, unsure of his own words. “Maybe I don’t know how to relax. I get caught up in my head about everything that could go wrong so it’s best to just walk the straight and narrow, you know?”

“Okay, so don’t think,” Sam retorted and he was upright again, pressing against Dean’s side. Dean looked down at where their thighs were touching, letting his gaze move up until it fell upon Sam’s face. Close. Much too close. His heart skipped a beat. “Just feel,” Sam encouraged, and before Dean could protest, he felt the warmth of Sam’s palm against his cheek and the press of his lips against his own.

The loud buzzing in his mind quieted as he let his eyes fall shut and leaned into Sam’s form, deciding (against his better judgment) to follow his lead. His hand moved as he finally allowed himself to touch in return, settling on the side of Sam’s neck. He was warm – like he lived a degree or two hotter than everyone else, and he could feel the softness of those curls just under his ear. He pushed his fingers through them as he realized he had been wanting to do that for far too long.

Sam responded in kind with an inhale through his nose and breathed out a keen sound from the back of his throat. The kiss deepened quickly now that they had the space to lean into one another. Sam’s hand had moved down from his neck to the front of his shirt, working the buttons open so he had more access to Dean’s skin. Apparently it wasn’t quick enough for the younger male because a quick tug had buttons flying, and it was almost as offending as it was exciting, a rush of heat coursing through Dean’s form.

Shirts were discarded before Dean found himself leaning back against the couch, the heavy weight of Sam’s body a top of him. He couldn’t recall the last time he had made out like this, maybe when he was a teenager, but the details seemed a little blurred. But that could have been because Sam’s hand was now at his belt, working it open before he was pushing his hand inside eagerly. All it took was a brush of fingers against his straining arousal to earn a struggled sound from Dean’s throat before he moved a hand to grip at Sam’s wrist. He didn’t necessarily stop him from his endeavors, he just needed an anchor to keep him grounded.

“This okay?” Sam asked, breathy and too hot against his neck.

“Y-yeah,” Dean replied in equal breathiness, licking his lips quickly to moisten them. His heart was hammering a mile a minute in his chest, but the pressure against his length was too good to let any hesitation impede on the unfolding event taking place.

Sam took his word and curled his fingers around his cock, his palm dragging as best as it could behind the fabric of his slacks. With a twist of his wrist, he pulled Dean’s length from the confines before he gave him a full stroke, earning a moan from the elder’s parted lips.

He took a steadying breath as his eyelids fluttered some as Sam worked his cock to full hardness before he felt his mouth move from his neck, descending from his collar bone to his chest and further down. Dean moved his hand back into Sam’s hair, threading the thick strands through his fingers and giving a light tug. He received a moan from his actions and made a mental note to do that again a little later on if he could remember to do so with his pleasure-addled brain.

His breath caught in his throat and his muscles tensed the moment Sam’s lips wrapped around his aching dick, the wet heat sending a skittering of pleasure up his spine. He arched slightly, gripping the other’s hair a bit tighter before he vocalized his appreciation of the action.

“Sammy,” he moaned, temporarily forgetting that Sam didn’t appreciate the nickname, but it didn’t seem to bother him at that moment. He took Dean further into his mouth as he pressed his tongue along the underside of it and gave a suck as he pulled up, starting a slow and indulgent bobbing motion.

Dean couldn’t recall the last time he thought about sex, couldn’t recall the last girl he had hooked up with or even dated (if he even dated at all). But somehow this felt oddly familiar, and Sam seemed to know exactly what Dean liked with the way his tongue curled and pressed, applying just the right pressure with lips and giving his balls equal attention with rolls in his palm. 

He chanced a glance downward, meeting hazel eyes with pupils blown wide before he noticed just how pink his lips were wrapped around his cock. Now that was a pretty picture. Dean could have sworn that he’d had this image burned into his mind from some time before. Maybe a dream? A fantasy he had quickly and embarrassedly dismissed?

He recalled when Sam divulged more details about his dreams he had been having, admitting that it was more than just ghosts that paid him a visit in his subconscious. That they were friends, no, that they were brothers . Maybe Sam was fearful in admitting he dreamt they were lovers because it would scare Dean, and that would have undoubtedly done so had he come clean straight away.

It would have sounded crazy then, but it did make a little sense now with the sudden flood of nostalgia that licked away any uncertainty Dean was holding onto about the entire situation. His mouth fell open, another soft utterance of Sammy falling from his lips.

Sam rewarded him with a drop of his head to take his cock deeper into his mouth, allowing it to press back against the soft palate of his throat. Dean broke their gaze as he tipped his head back and gave a long moan of pleasure, arching his hips up into the incredible wet heat of his throat. Sam gagged slightly, but was no less enthusiastic about his motions, lifting his head up before he started to bob again, each time letting Dean’s cock slip deeper until he had steadied his breathing through his nose.

Dean could hear every wet squelch of his dick pushing into the tightness of Sam’s throat with growing frequency. His face grew hot as he lifted his head again to watch with hungry eyes as his teeth dug into his bottom lip. His hips lifted in time with Sam’s avid pace, his fingers laying now at the nape of his neck to help guide him up and down as he fucked his mouth, his muscles tightening in his thighs and abdomen. He wasn’t going to last long, that much he knew, not with Sam’s throat swallowing around the head as his tongue pushed past his bottom lip to let the tip of it prod at his heavy balls on each descend. 

“Oh, son of a bitch,” Dean exhaled. Sam pushed his shoulder against the inside of his knee to get his thighs to fall apart further, allowing more space for his big body to settle better as he hungrily slurped him down like he had been doing this for years. Dean could feel the warm heat pooling in his lower abdomen, like a coil steadily tightening and making his nerves feel pangs of electricity the closer it got to releasing. “Fuck, m’gonna.. S-sammy, gonna come..”

His warning didn’t seem to deter the younger man because Sam doubled down and took him entirely down his throat until his nose was pressed against the soft, short curls at his pubic bone. Dean went from teetering to full on free-falling into his orgasm with a sharp hiss and a cry of pleasure as his cock throbbed, pulsating hotly as he came in thick ropes down the other’s throat, and god bless Sam for resisting every urge to gag with the volume produced. He swallowed. Every. Last. Drop.

Sam pulled off with a wet slurp and Dean watched as he licked his lips. His cheeks were flushed and lips were glossy with saliva and the remnants of Dean’s release which he pressed against the underside of his steadily softening arousal as it laid against his belly. Dean briefly wondered how he tasted and if his clean-living diet had paid off in terms of palatability, but he didn’t ask. He loosened the hold he had on Sam’s hair and moved his hand to swipe his thumb over his bottom lip, holding his gaze even as his thumb was taking between still hungry lips and given a suckle.

Dean’s eyes must have glinted because Sam moved to crawl up Dean’s form and locked lips with him again, giving him a taste of his own seed with a push of his tongue into his mouth. Sam groaned and he gave him one in return before he felt a push of the other’s hard-on against his thigh as his bottom lip was sipped on, making him feel another little dizzy spell.

“Do you have lube?” Sam asked, voice too husky for Dean to not get a chill down his spine.

“Wh-?” Dean mumbled incoherently before the question registered and he let his head fall back with a groan. “Shit. No,” he grieved. He didn’t think that far ahead and never assumed they would actually get to this point. The shift in focus gave him a moment to collect himself as he suddenly became all too aware that he was half-dressed and half-hard. His eyes scanned the room for a moment, too embarrassed to look at Sam in his lack of preparation before they caught sight of a container of coconut oil on the counter. Cue dramatic zoom in.

Dean nudged his head towards the kitchen with his eyebrows raised and uttered, “Think that’ll work?”

“There’s a first time for everything, right?” Sam asked as he glanced towards the suggested substitute.

“Tell me about it,” Dean replied before he felt Sam press another kiss to his lips, wanting to chase after them before he had gotten up and off of him to go and retrieve the oil.

Dean watched as he headed into the kitchen, giving a small tilt of his head as his eyes traced the muscular form of his back. He wondered briefly what the other’s exercise regime was, if he was all protein or maybe he just hit the genetic lottery. Perhaps he could ask him for some tips. This would technically count as exercise, right?

He gave a shake of his head to break his train of thought, clearing his throat as Sam returned to him. Now he had the opportunity to admire from the front; hard muscle, taut skin, not a lot of hair so he was pretty well groomed. And the tent he was sporting in his pants? Apparently Sam Wesson was proportionate - big all over.

Dean glanced back up Sam’s body before he moved to stand, curling his fingers in the other’s waistband before he worked his slacks open as he held his gaze. The tension and the buzz of electricity between them was palpable. Sam’s eyes were intense, a thin ring of hazel around blown pupils held Dean’s and he couldn’t look away, even as his hand slipped inside to wrap his fingers around the younger’s arousal. Hot. Thick. Impressive.

The sound that left Sam’s lips was low and breathy as he eased his hips forward as soon as Dean gave him slow and firm strokes. It felt blood-hot against his palm, his own cock responding by filling out to full hardness again.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” Dean asked with a half-smug smile.

“Oh, look who’s no longer nervous. Thought you ‘never did this’,” Sam teased in response and Dean gave a scoff. “But maybe I have been. Seems like you have too.”

“Your mouth was pretty convincing,” Dean chided as he gave a twist of his wrist and ran his palm over the head of Sam’s cock which earned him a more drawn out moan from the taller.

It was getting easier to buy into the fantasy that Sam had pitched with the way his body was responding to everything. Not once did work cross his mind, no portfolio, no number crunching, just the body heat that radiated off the younger male and all the skin that was begging to be touched and explored. From the first caress of lips, Dean had found himself wanting more despite his hesitations, and now there was no going back.

“Yeah? It can be convincing in other ways too,” Sam retorted and leaned in to let his lips caress the shell of Dean’s ear. His voice dropped lower, whispered words like silk against the flesh. “Can’t stop thinking of you bending me over your desk and fucking me raw. Cornering me in the elevator, shoving me in a stall in the bathroom.. Your hands all over me any chance you can get,” he purred before he felt Sam nip at his earlobe with the slightest touch of tongue. Dean’s skin tightened with searing arousal as his eyes fell closed and he exhaled a shaky breath before he squeezed Sam’s length. He was so far passed convinced that he may as well have been hypnotized.

“God, Sammy,” Dean breathed before he turned his head for another heated lip-lock. He heard the thud of the coconut oil container hitting the couch before Sam’s hands were pushing down his pants the rest of the way and he returned the favor so they could step out of their clothes and strip down completely.

It was Dean’s turn to pin Sam underneath him after he pushed him to the couch. There was an exchange of heated breaths and moans between the entangling of tongues as their hips met, grinding against each other as Dean slotted himself against the other. One of Sam’s hands sat on the side of Dean’s neck with his fingers at the short bristles of hair while the other traversed down his side, his long and deft digits tracing the bump of ribs.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time a set of hands had felt this good on his body, and the push and pull of tongues with mingled sounds of pleasure was stroking his libido in all the right ways. He had to pull himself from the indulgence of it at all to remember that there was a task at hand, and he blindly reached for the container of coconut oil to unscrew the lid. Reluctantly, he pulled back from Sam’s mouth and dug his fingers into the solidified oil, feeling it heat up instantly at his touch.

“Gonna be hard to cook with this stuff after this,” Dean murmured, a half-slung smirk on his lips that earned a breathless laugh from the younger beneath him. He watched as Sam spread his thighs wider, one long leg going up along the back of the couch while he pulled the other up and towards his chest. Flexible. Nice.

With a decent amount of oil coating his fingers and his palms, Dean shifted to smear his digits against Sam’s eagerly awaiting hole. The slightest touch against the sensitive flesh had Sam tipping his head back and releasing a soft groan. Apparently he was sensitive too, which was something to be tucked away and bookmarked. He went to work slipping a digit inside of him, the oil granting him enough slickness to work it in and out easily. Sam was pressing back into the sensation as if he was riding it, encouraging more with a nod of his head.

Dean added a second finger before the appeal of Sam’s exposed neck called out to him, causing him to lean forward to attach his mouth to the stretch of flesh, layering it with heated kisses and scrapes of teeth.

“Feel good? Like you imagined?” Dean asked, unable to help himself.

“Fuck yeah,” Sam breathed, squeezing his hole around Dean’s fingers as a hand came to wrap around his cock, giving it short jerks as he was worked open. “Thicker than I anticipated.”

“That’s not the only thing you’re gonna be saying that about,” Dean replied with a grin, giving a scissor of his fingers before he pressed deeper, soon adding a third. “Did.. you dream about this too?” He asked as the thought crossed his mind.

“Nngh,” Sam groaned, releasing the hold on his length to press his hand against the flat of Dean’s back, having to lick his lips to wet them. “Not like with the ghosts. Those kinda came in flashes. This? Yeah, more recently,” Sam replied. “Spent a hell of a lot of time daydreaming about it too.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Dean asked, all ego and teasing now, a far stretch from where he was down in the car with Sam’s hand on his thigh and his lips at his neck.

“Shut up,” Sam retorted with a grin only to be met by another hungry kiss as Dean withdrew his fingers and slicked up his cock. 

He held the base of his arousal as the other hand came up to find placement under the bend of Sam’s knee, keeping him spread and open as he aligned himself to his stretched entrance, giving a push inside and being welcomed by tight, wet heat. He groaned into Sam’s mouth, shifting his hips forward until he bottomed out, feeling every twitch and squeeze of his walls around his length, sheathing him perfectly.

He remained there for a few long moments, savoring the sensation of being intimate with someone again, locked into place like he had belonged there the whole time. Their lips parted even as they exchanged heated breaths, vision slightly out of focus as they tried to hold each other’s gazes.

“You okay?” Dean asked breathlessly.

“Yeah. Yeah.. you?” Sam asked in return before he swallowed, squeezing around Dean enough to earn a low keen from the back of his throat.

“Yeah..” he replied, dropping his head for a moment against his shoulder before he shifted to lift his torso some, smoothing his hands down Sam’s muscular chest, giving a roll of his hips forward to grind before he pulled back and pushed in, starting a slow rhythm, watching as the younger’s face contorted in pleasure. He was enraptured. Ensnared. Entangled. 

His mind clicked, seemingly fading into a memory. He had seen this before, heard those sounds before, like some erotic deja vu that made his pulse quicken. Sammy felt familiar on his lips, as if it had permanent residence there, meant to be whispered, meant to be moaned.

Sam’s expression wavered slightly, like he was suddenly under a microscope, the pulling together of his eyebrows melding from concentrated pleasure to a curiosity.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Sam asked breathlessly, and Dean gave a small shake of his head to pull himself from his reverie. 

“Nothing, sorry, you just.. you feel so good,” Dean managed as he gave a small flash of teeth in a smile and Sam rolled his eyes away from his gaze in a semi sheepish manner.

“Yeah? Well, don’t drag it out, Romeo, you’re not gonna break me.”

“Oh, well if you want me to fuck you, why don’t you ask nicely?” Dean retorted with a grin and a heavy grind forward that earned a slight raise of Sam’s hips and a groan that was far too tantalizing. His hand came up to curl his fingers against the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him down to press their lips together in a hungry kiss with a muffled sound of need against his mouth.

“Fuck me,” Sam whispered, giving a pull of Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

Dean immediately withdrew his hips back before he started a faster and rougher rhythm, much to Sam’s delight as he writhed and countered the elder’s movements. Every drag of Dean’s cock within the other’s tight and hungry hole was stoking smoldering embers into full fledged flames. The sensations of Sam’s hands on him, pulling him close, touching possessively made him feel alive in a way that felt like a distant memory.

“Dean,” his name spilled from Sam’s lips, an echo in his head. Hearing it in this circumstance was driving him wild and his breathing picked up as his skin tightened again.

“Still think of me as a big brother now?” Dean asked before he could even actually process the question he was asking.

“Oh, fuck,” Sam breathed and Dean felt him clamp hard around him, sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine as his cock pulsated in the tight grip of Sam’s insides. Did that turn him on? Did it turn him on?

“Yeah?” Dean asked, getting so caught up in the other’s pleasure and enthusiasm that he couldn’t help but to jump on board. It should have raised a red flag, should have grossed him out, but slipping into that new taboo dynamic was far too easy. “You get off on thinking about getting fucked by your big brother?”

“ God, Dean,” Sam whined, face flush with what Dean could only assume was a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. So he clocked him on having some kind of incest kink, that wasn’t the weirdest thing he had ever heard of. Was he really justifying this? It was just a fantasy, it wasn’t something he actually condoned or anything. It was just a little fun, after all, no need to have a morality crisis over it.

“Say it, Sammy, c’mon,” Dean coaxed, his hips continuing their rough treatment, fucking Sam into the couch before he felt him reach between them and start to jerk himself off in time with his thrusts. It sounded slick, like he was leaking all over his hand, and fuck if that didn’t spurn on Dean’s efforts.

“Yes, fuck,” Sam moaned, his eyebrows pulling together again as his hips stuttered when his muscles clenched tightly. “Dreamt we were brothers, dreamt of you fucking me,” he panted, groaning again. “Shit, I’m close..”

Dean shifted his hold on Sam’s leg, guiding the one that was draped against the couch up so he could maneuver behind him instead, laying them both on their sides as he fucked him in the new position, curling his arm under the bend of his knee to keep him open and spread. His chest was pressed to Sam’s back, touched with a light sheen of sweat, and Dean pressed his face into the side of his neck, dragging his tongue along the flesh under his ear.

“Do it,” Dean breathed, nipping his earlobe before he shifted his free hand up enough to curl his fingers in Sam’s hair, giving it a tug at the base of his skull which earned a higher pitched moan from the younger man. “Come on your big brother’s cock,” he encouraged, and as if on command, Sam gave another one of those lifted, pleasured sounds, his hand working faster before he came in a series of little tremors, his hole clenching impossibly tight in a fluttering around Dean’s cock as he grunted and groaned. 

Dean could see the spurts of his release making a mess on his abdomen and reaching up to his chest, and knowing that he was able to get Sam off under the precedent of being his older brother only pushed him towards his second orgasm faster than he anticipated. With another pump or two, Dean made sure he was buried to the hilt before he came with a grunt of his own, feeling his cock pulse as it spilled another hot load into Sam’s willing body.

They laid together afterward, Sam panting softly before Dean had released his leg and allowed it to fall so they could both enjoy the boneless experience of post-coiltal bliss, pressed against each other as they caught their breath and regained better composure.

Dean curled his arm around Sam’s large torso, his palm laying against his sternum with his face still against the side of his neck, letting the weight of the situation settle over him. Strangely, there was no remorse, no regret, no embarrassment. It felt familiar and comfortable.

“So brothers, huh?” Dean asked with a slight chuckle as he felt Sam wince slightly.

“God, I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?” He asked with a chuckle of his own.

“Seemed to get you going pretty good there,” he teased before Sam shifted slightly to be able to face him better, his cheeks tinged slightly in pink. Could have been from their exertions, could have been from mild embarrassment.

“You’re one to talk. Don’t think I didn’t feel you get harder as soon as you called yourself ‘big brother’.” Sam retorted before Dean slid his hand up towards Sam’s neck, fingers fitting under his ear before he leaned in to press their lips together in an indulgent kiss.

“Makes sense,” he murmured against the other’s mouth, noses bumping together lightly. “You give off ‘bratty little brother’ vibes. Someone’s gotta put you in your place.”

“That’s a stretch considering you were scared to get a beer with me in the first place.”

“Shut up,” Dean replied with a grin against Sam’s mouth, pressing for another kiss that turned into a lazy make out session. Work would definitely be interesting the following day.

↳ can be found on ao3 here. comments and kudos appreciated! ↳ part 1 on tumblr here.

[bluefairyhere]

Afterwards || MGK scenario

¬Colson meets a fan backstage. Pairing->f!reader x colson baker Word count-> 2.0k cw. fluff, some deep convo, fan service, mentions of suicide, swearing.

The noise was unreal. You still couldn't belive you finally made it to kells' concert. It had been an odissey to get enough money to afford the plane and concert tickets, at some points you even wondered if it was worth it. However being here made you have no doubt--It was absolutely worth it.

"Thank you beautiful people for coming today," he practically yelled into the mic, his bright pink hair dripping drops of sweat."I'm afraid this will be the last song of the night."

The crowd sobbed loudly, but the sad atmosphere was quickly replaced with the festival of cords that was the beginning of WWIII. To you it felt like Colson was flying around, his instense energy being contagious to every single fan that was singing along the extravagant lyrics. Everyone was jumping and laughing like one big, jolly being.

Eventually the song was over, and everyone was ready to go back home, but Kells was thinking otherwise.

"Before y'all go back home, the crew and I have one more thing." you looked around just to see excited faces."We've decided to gift a V.I.P meet n' greet behind the scenes to three random people;"

He stepped aside and signaled to the big screens around him, which started showing pink explosions and sparkling silver and black dashes. Then, a series of numbers started to appear—it was ticket numbers.

Your heart was pounding fast, and you could feel the adrenaline pouring through your entire self. You knew it was beyond highly unlikely your number would appear on that screen, yet you couldn’t help but hope…

The first couple of numbers had already been announced, meaning there was only one left. One opportunity to meet Colson left. You knew it wasn’t gonna be you, but even being aware of it didn’t prepare you for the disappointment of realizing the third and final ticket number belonged to the person right next to you. The screen showed the number 118, while your number was 117.

You scowled silently. What a drag. At least i got to enjoy myself for a few hours was all you could say to yourself to make you feel better. You looked to your right, expecting to see the lady excited out of her mind, but she looked quite neutral. Thinking it was odd, you continued gathering your stuff to go back home.

“Excuse me.” You felt a slight pat on your shoulder along with the sound of a voice getting lost in the background noise. You turned around. “I can’t really attend the backstage thingie, I promised the sitter I’d be back home early. Would you like to go instead?”

To say you couldn’t believe your ears would be an understatement. “Sorry?” You said in shock. The lady looking back at you seemed to be in her late 30s, short brown hair and kind eyes. She giggled.

“I realize it’s weird, but I really can’t stay any longer. If you can’t accept it there’s no problem, I’ll just ask someone else.”

But before she finished the sentence you interrupted with frantic nodding. “I’ll take it! It was just so unexpected! Are you really sure?”

“I’m really sure I can’t afford a different sitter right now,” she smiled honestly. “So yea.”

She offered you her ticket and you took it, hesitant. And there it was, the winning ticket—or one of them anyway—in your hands. You felt on top of the world.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, thank you so much.” You said while smiling as well, and she just brushed it off.

“Never meet your idols is something I’ve always firmly believed anyways. Have a good time!” After saying that she quickly left.

It took you a while to get it together. The whole situation felt crazy to say the least. You just knew your friends were gonna be so jealous (in a nice way) and eager to hear the whole thing. They simply were not gonna believe this!

You made your way to the backstage entrance, where a bodyguard and some other staff members were to make sure everything went smoothly. The other two people in front of you, who you assumed were the other winners, seemed to be really excited as well.

One of the staff members explained that each of us would have approximately ten minutes with Colson, in the order the winners were announced. They also gave you some merch, which you naturally loved. You immediately put on a little rubber band around your wrist that came in the carefully organized package.

After some time, it was finally your turn. You were so excited the waiting felt like a blink. The bodyguard walked you through a hallway with a bunch of doors on either side, until finally you reached one that had a piece of paper sticked to it. “MACHINE GUN KELLY”

Your heart immediately skipped a bit, you couldn’t believe you were actually going to meet MGK. Machine Gun Kelly. Colson Freaking Baker. You inhaled some air hoping it would calm you down—of course it didn’t—and the bodyguard opened the door.

There he was. A smoky blunt on one hand and his phone on the other. He wasn’t really sweaty anymore, and his hair was a mess yet his face looked so calm. His see-through shirt revealed his contoured torso full of tattoos. You knew he was tall but seeing him in person for the very first time... he seemed taller than anyone could ever be. Just the arch of his nose and piercing eyes made you feel like oxygen wasn’t so necessary anymore-

“You don’t have to stand all the way there,” his raspy voice took you out of the trance in a heartbeat, which made you a little shy due to your awkward demeanor. “C’mere”

Once again hesitantly you walked a little closer to him, who was no longer leaning against the wall nor unaware of your presence. Colson was standing up—god he got even taller-- and looking at you in a curious manner. “What’s your name?”

You whispered the answer, unable to look into his eyes for longer periods of time than twenty seconds each. He giggled, amused.

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” Now it was your turn to giggle. For some reason his unpreoccupied remark eased you into the moment. “Sorry,” you sighed “college didn’t teach me anything on how to talk to someone like you.”

He walked closer to you and sat in a nearby chair. “Woah, someone like me? And here I thought we're getting along.”

You laughed out loud again and he smiled in return and inhaled the blunt resting between his fingers. Now you were starting to feel actually comfortable.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” You hugged yourself while walking a little closer as well. “I meant someone so famous and admirable. We’re just very different.”

He appeared to think about it for a second and then signaled to a chair close to his with his almost fully smoked blunt, indicating you should sit down.

“I don’t think we’re that different, you and I.” He stated firmly, looking right into your eyes. You could feel your ears burning a bit, but naturally decided to just ignore it.

“We are very, very different…” you began right after you sat on the chair but stopped mid-sentence because you weren’t sure about how to adress him, which he somehow seemed to notice.

“Call me whatever, I literally don’t care.” Usually that sentence would’ve sounded harsh due to its very nature, but coming out of his mouth it didn’t make you feel any of those things. He meant it, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Is Colson alright?” He nodded while inhaling the last puff out of his blunt. "ye's fine."

You could feel once again the air filling up with awkwardness, but you weren't gonna let it. It's not every day you get to have a one-on-one conversation with THE Machine Gun Kelly.

"Tell me something about you."You spat before you could think twice about it. He frowned, unsure of what you meant."Tell me something you'd like me to know about you. Something I shouldn't know, or something you've never said to anyone. Tell me something about you." You stared right into his cerulean gaze."Anything."

He laughed outloud, strong peals of laughter filling the room. You wondered how come this was better than all the songs he performed at the concert--the sound of his laugh."What's so funny?"

"You were so shy like a second ago and now you're asking shit like that." He pointed, still slightly smiling. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I do." You quickly replied, simply. "It's not every day a girl gets to be face to face with the one and only MGK."

Colson's smile became a mere smirk. You could tell he was thinking what could he possibly tell you.

"I make music for myself" he spat suddenly ", not for the fans. For me. The fact that they---you like it is just a plus. It's what helps me sleep at nights."

When you asked him to give you something you certainly weren’t expecting something half as deep as that.

"I guess we never really think you celebrities have demons as bad as that... not for real, anyway. Thanks for sharing that with me, you obviously didn't have to."

"Well, there's not much of a point. Not like we'll be meeting again." As he said this, the realization came down to you. You were not meeting again. You felt your heart irrationally sink.

"Still I appreciate i-" his raspy voice interrupted you before she could finish the sentence.

"Your turn."

"Sorry?"

"Your turn. Tell me some spicy shit about you, something not many people know."

Your mind went blank. Something about you no one knows? You were a rather private person so there were a bunch of things people didn't know, but which to pick? He shared a deep one so it was only fair and right for you to do the same.

"I love when it rains at night." His square-ish smile welcomed the statement.

"Dude, how is that deep?" You breathed in as you took long blinking.

"I was going to kill myself. It was like midnight or something, I had the pills ready and I was lying on my bedroom floor. There's a big skylight on the ceiling, you know? I was about to take them when suddenly it started raining." He wasn't really smiling anymore."And that made me smile. I like night time, and I like it when it rains, so together it's like... I don't know. I love it. And I realized if i did it, i was not going to be able to see the nightsky while it's raining, hear the drops of rain against the buildings and the ground. Nor would I smile again.”

"Now that is deep." He walked towards a metalic table and poured two glasses of what seemed to be gin. He then walked toward you and offered you one."I guess we’re not so different after all… Cheers to that."

You took it while smiling, mumbling "cheers to that, indeed" as your glasses clinked.

"Why did you tell me that?" He asked after taking a few sips. You shrugged and took another sip, looking up into his blue irises and feeling yourself getting lost in them.

"You said so yourself, it's not like we'll ever meet again. Might as well do some trauma dumping." You both laughed at the joke---self-deprecating humor is something you could instantly say you had in common.

"I like you, y/n. We might actually have to meet again." Your heart skipped a bit as he said that. Had you heard right? You somehow managed to keep your cool.

"Why? You just said we were never meeting again." You sighed. "I hope it's not pitty because of what I just told you."

"It ain't. You just peaked my interest. No one'd managed to do that for a while." He stared right into your eyes as he said that. Made you shiver.

"So we meet and what?" You asked, your heart running inside your chest.

"And we have a drink, what the fuck else?"

"Isn't there some rule that forbids you from doing shit like that, anyway?"You asked, genuinely curious.

"Ain't rules meant to be broken?" He answered and smirked before walking to the table once again and refilling his glass. He looked at you and softly swung the bottle in your direction, silently offering, but you shook your nead no since you hadn't finished the previous serving. "So what do you say? Tomorrow midnight at your favorite club?"

[starry-nights-garden]

Jaemin ✧ 10:06pm

✧ NCT Dream Jaemin x gn!reader ✧ words: ~1.3k ✧ genre: fluff ✧ warnings: none

Desc.: In which you try to get some urgent work done while your boyfriend Jaemin decides it's time to be very distracting.

It’s a perfectly quiet Friday evening. You’re sitting at your desk, typing away on your laptop, switching back and forth between several documents. Next to you is the cup of coffee you finished not too long ago - you’re aware that you shouldn’t consume any caffeine at this hour, but your deadline is drawing closer at lightspeed and you just can’t afford to lose even a single hour to inattentiveness at this point.

You gnash your teeth and shake your head at yourself. You don’t know why you always have to procrastinate until the last possible moment. You also don’t know why your boyfriend thinks now is the best possible time to start an attempt at distracting you. At first he simply walks into the room and puts his hands onto your shoulders, peeking at the laptop screen from behind. You expect him to ask if your work is coming along well, or maybe if you ate dinner - which you actually forgot to have - or if you’re not getting tired. But nothing. He remains silent, and when Na Jaemin remains silent in such a situation, you know he’s probably planning something. Feeling suspicious, you roll your shoulders back, hoping he would let go of you.

“What?” you mutter, too focused on not losing your train of thought to form a proper sentence. But still, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his fingertips dance down your upper arms and eventually he puts them on your waist. A premonition makes a chill run down your spine, and at the same time you can feel yourself getting angry. Your hunch of what he’s about to do is proven right when you feel his breath against your neck, just before you can feel his lips touching that same spot too. You involuntarily let out a sigh, and for a second your body disobeys your mind and your eyelids flutter shut. However, no matter how much you want to let him coerce you into taking a break, a wave of internal stress reminds you that you have no time to lose. You lean forward, escaping at least his kisses while his hands remain resting on your sides, and you go back to staring at the screen in concentration.

However, he also wouldn’t be Na Jaemin if you could shake him off that easily. 

“Baby, let’s forget about your deadline for a while…” Despite him keeping his voice low, you don’t miss the underlying worry. You sigh again, this time pushing the air out of your lungs with more force, to which he spins you around in your chair, making you face him.

“I can’t-” You make an attempt at protesting, but the feeling of him cupping your face with one hand combined with the look in his eyes silences you. It’s not even an unexpected reaction, during the time you’ve been dating so far you learned how effortlessly he can sweep you off your feet and erase all coherent thoughts in your head, at least for a while. You collect yourself while taking a deep breath and try to suppress all feelings as he tilts his head to the side, questioning. “I can’t now,” you simply answer, making sure to sound as stern as possible. You feel him caressing your cheek with his thumb once, twice, and again you’re fighting your body urging you to just give in and take a rest. 

Jaemin brushes off your words as his gaze drops from your eyes to your lips, and when he leans in you don’t have it in you to stop him from kissing you. There is something demanding in the way he slowly moves his lips against yours, and his hand now placed at the back of your neck makes sure you don’t pull back before he breaks the kiss. But even then, he doesn’t move his face away from yours more than an inch or two, and you can feel his warm breath tickling your skin as he searches for some kind of answer to his actions in your pupils. Meanwhile, you can practically hear the angel and devil sitting on your shoulders as they argue and yell at each other over whether you should direct your full attention to your boyfriend or to the paper that’s waiting to be continued. In the end it’s Jaemin himself who ends the dispute in your mind, as he presses his lips against yours once again.

Your hands eventually find his shoulders, and when you rake your fingers through his short hair, he deepens the kiss, probably to show his approval. You part for air eventually, and as soon as you have caught your breath you whisper his name.

“You know what’d be real sexy of you right now?” you mumble, and this time you don’t let yourself be shaken when his gaze drops from your eyes to your mouth once again.

“Hm?” he hums, dragging the sound a bit and grinning in approval.

“If you leave me the fuck alone and let me finish this shit.” You pull back and point your chin at the screen of your laptop. Your words came out more sharply than you wanted them to, but he doesn’t seem fazed by the sound of them. He must be thinking again as his eyes rest on your figure, and eventually he gives up with a shrug. Wordlessly, he leaves, but only to come back not even a minute later. He got his own chair from his room, putting it right next to yours and sitting down. With his elbow rested on your desk, he scans your face, making you wonder what he’s up to now.

“What??” is all you say, hands already put on the keyboard, ready to resume working, and being very done with his antics.

“Do you want something to eat?” His question takes you by surprise. He follows it up with “I know you skipped dinner.”

“It doesn’t matter whether I want dinner or not. I don’t have the time,” you argue.

“I’ll make you something. Just tell me if you have any preferences.” Now it’s you who’s staring, eyebrows raised up high.

“You’re… actually gonna be helpful after failing in trying to seduce me into neglecting my work?”

“I didn’t try to seduce you into neglecting it,” he answers calmly. “I tried to seduce you into taking a break.”

“Same thing…”

“So? What do you wanna eat?” he asks again, all while never taking his eyes off your face. “I might be forced to order something instead of making it myself if it’s something too extravagant, though. I can’t stand in the kitchen for two hours while letting you starve.”

“I’m not starving…” you answer silently, though you have so much more to say. You consider pouring the gratefulness you’re suddenly feeling into another kiss, but since he might take that as another opportunity to try forcing you into a break, you decide against it after all.

“Just… some fried rice, or something simple,” you eventually say.

“Hmmm,” Jaemin hesitates, and then eventually he sits up straight, signaling that he’s about to get up. “I’ll make it so it will give you enough energy to power through this.”

“You’re putting coffee into it?” you joke and you lure a short chuckle from his lips as he stands up. He gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze and then captures your chin between his thumb and index finger. You let him turn your head towards him, and after giving you a peck on the lips, you feel the deprivation course through your body more than anything.

“Don’t be like that…” you mutter, and this time it’s you who’s hiding a whine in your voice. Jaemin gives you a big grin and pats your head.

“You’ll get proper kisses when you’re done here,” he says, before disappearing into the kitchen to prepare you a late dinner. 

[the-crimson]

I just rewatched Bad and Aypierre’s conversation about the “dirt” and this gave us so much insight into Bad’s current mindset in regards to Ron.

Bad once again called Ron valuable and family and that he’s gotten attached but his biggest problem at the moment is that Ron’s become a liability because the federation misses Ron and Tubbo is snooping.

I think that when Bad made this plan so long ago, he didn’t expect himself to actually latch onto the worker he stole. I suspect that it was always his plan to break Ron then Stockholm syndrome him - Bad himself getting attached was the unexpected factor.

Someone was eventually bound to realize Ron was missing and it was only a matter of time before one of the other islanders figured out something was wrong. Bad got all the info he needed from Ron (that blue hat workers have the info he wants) and now he’s become a liability. Before Bad got attached, he was probably planning on just killing Ron to solve that problem but now that he actually cares, he can’t. And that’s the root of the current dilemma. He didn’t plan for this.

He’s enlisted Baghera’s help knowing her good heart would force her to protect Ron for him. He asked Aypierre for advice in fooling the federation to get them off his/Ron’s back. He needs to get rid of Ron because he’s moved past his usefulness, but Bad doesn’t want any more harm to come to him which means he has to change his plans and ask for help.

I mentioned in a different analysis post that Bad was bringing Baghera into the loop so that she would take Ron off his hands and I still think that’s true. Ron is a distraction and a liability. He can’t afford to deal with this problem himself since he’s dealing with twenty other chess pieces already so he’s pushing it onto Baghera.

He played his part well insisting that she would have to promise not to interfere - which he knew she would never agree to - and insisting Ron was happy here - he even has a pool table! - so that Baghera would come to the conclusion on her own. If Bad told her that he needed her help dealing with Ron, she would insist that he help her come up with a solution. But, if Bad resists the idea then she’ll take the entire burden on her own shoulders and leave Bad’s hands free to focus on capturing Fred. I mentioned before that Bad was clearly manipulating Baghera during this conversation - and the convo today - and I think this is why.

At the end of the day, I don’t think Bad would sacrifice his over arching plans for Ron. He’s adapting his plan as best he can to protect Ron but if/when the time comes and Ron is discovered/killed/sacrificed I think Bad will do what needs to be done to continue with his grand plans. He’s already accepted that burning his relationships is a necessary sacrifice. I don’t think he’ll let Ron distract him but it’ll just add to the fire already burning him alive.

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: John Brooke (if you're feeling up to do so)

Favorite thing about them: His steady kindness, gentleness, and dependability, and his devotion to Meg, their children, and his friends. Even as he takes on the role of disciplinarian with his children, he combines it with sweet tenderness, and he always wants Meg to be happy, even at his own expense. To say nothing of the way he helps the March parents and write comforting letters home to the girls during Mr. March's illness in Part I. He's an excellent man in general, with very little to dislike about him.

Least favorite thing about them: Probably his behavior in the jelly incident: laughing and joking about it when Meg is distraught (even if it is funny), and saying in annoyance that he'll never bring an unexpected guest home again. Unlike other readers, I don't dislike him for it, but it does show that he's human and not perfect.

Also, the fact that he eventually dies young in Little Men. So sad.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I'm intelligent and well-educated, as he must be to work as a tutor and a bookkeeper.

*I'm a kind, loving person, or at least I try to be.

*I like a simple, cozy life.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm female.

*I'm not married and don't have children.

*I don't enjoy talking about politics.

Favorite line:

From "Domestic Experiences," when he learns that Meg spent fifty dollars on silk for a dress – even though he's not happy, he makes no complaint, but tries to be cheerful about it for Meg's sake:

“Twenty-five yards of silk seems a good deal to cover one small woman, but I’ve no doubt my wife will look as fine as Ned Moffat’s when she gets it on."

From later in the same the same chapter, when he cancels his order for a new overcoat:

“I can’t afford it, my dear.”

Again, no complaint. No mention of the fact that it's because of Meg's silk purchase that he can't afford it. He just quietly gives up something he needs so Meg can have what she wants – which rightly moves her to repay him by giving up the dress so he can have his coat after all.

brOTP: The March, Laurence, and Bhaer families, and his own children.

OTP: Meg.

nOTP: His daughters Daisy and Josie.

Random headcanon: Having Laurie as a student helped to prepare him for parenthood, even though Laurie is only about six or seven years younger than himself. Handling 1-year-old Demi's tantrums would have been much more daunting if he hadn't already dealt with such a high-spirited handful of a teenage boy.

Unpopular opinion: I couldn't decide between these two common pieces of slander against him, so I'll cite both. Get ready for some long ramblings from the John Brooke Defense Squad.

He doesn't have anger issues. When Marmee advises Meg never to make him angry (which is problematic advice by modern standards, I'll admit), her message isn't "He's an unforgiving grudge-holder, so you'd better placate him," and it certainly isn't "You should be afraid of him." Her point is just that his anger is different from the temper that Meg (to an extent), Amy, and especially Jo have all inherited from Marmee: their anger is more fiery, but it dies just as quickly as it flairs up, while John's anger is quiet and repressed, but for that very reason it lasts longer. Later, when Meg feels "afraid of her husband" when she's about to reveal her extravagant silk purchase, she's not literally afraid of him – she's afraid of disappointing him. Nor does he "sulk" (to quote one essay I just read) after Meg says she's tired of being poor – he's hurt, but he tries not to show it, and just takes on more hours of work and cuts more corners to have more money. And in "On the Shelf," when Meg worries that he'll be "too harsh" with the naughty Demi, and when she feels anxious about leaving him alone with the twins, she's certainly not afraid he'll abuse them! She's just a soft-hearted new mother who can't bear to see her little boy unhappy – even briefly and for his own good – and who has never let anyone but herself take care of the twins and worries that John might accidentally hurt them. The essays and comments I've read about John's "bad temper" and Meg's "fear of him" seem to lack basic reading comprehension!

I don't think his behavior in "On the Shelf" is nearly as detestable as many readers do. In fact I don't think it's detestable at all. He's not jealous of Meg's attention to the twins – he adores his babies and begrudges them nothing. He just feels understandably ignored and lonely because Meg does devote nearly every waking minute to the babies and is afraid to let him or anyone else help her with them. Yet he doesn't complain or fault her for it at all, he just starts spending his evenings at a friend's house, with no idea that Meg minds his absence. For all he knows, she's glad to have him out of the way so she can focus even more on the twins, which she is at first: only later does she start to miss him, and even then, she never tells him how she feels. It's only her own stress that convinces her that he's being selfish, neglecting her, having fun while she slaves away, etc., and I don't understand why so many readers seem to take her perspective at face value and hate John for it. Honestly, I could write a whole volume about how and why that chapter is a healthy, progressive, feminist portrayal of a couple learning to co-parent and strengthening their marriage, yet too often is mistakenly viewed as problematic, oppressive, and anti-feminist instead.

Song I associate with them:

"More Than I Am" from the 2005 musical.

Favorite picture of them:

This illustration by Frank T. Merrill:

John Lodge in the 1933 film, with Frances Dee as Meg.

Richard Stapley in the 1949 film, with Janet Leigh as Meg.

Eric Stoltz in the 1994 film:

...with Trini Alvarado as Meg.

Julian Morris in the 2017 miniseries, with Willa Fitzgerald as Meg:

James Norton in the 2019 film, with Emma Watson as Meg:

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Star-crossed in the Crosshairs (John Price x Reader)

Epilogue: Choosing My Confessions

Fic Summary: This mission is the pinnacle of your efforts for the past three years. Your whole team and yourself have worked countless hours, slaughtered hundreds, risked life and limb for scraps of intel, and now it all boiled down to pairing up with another taskforce to get this job done and dusted. An unexpected spanner in the works comes in the shape of your former best friend, now also a Captain and somehow resurrected from his KIA status, John Price.

You can’t afford to let feelings - old and new - get in the way of your purpose. No matter how much you’ve missed, wished for, loved him, and no matter how much he might feel the same

AN: Mild spoilers but this is the hurt/comfort aspect. If you'd rather hurt/no comfort, then leave it at the previous chapter.

Chapter 10 // AO3 Version // Masterlist

Weighed down by a worn-out fleece, John Price dragged himself into the lift of his apartment building, hitting his floor button with one knackered pointer finger, his other hand refusing to drop his bag until he was inside his bedroom. Tomorrow, he’d spend half the day soaking in a hot bath with a flannel on his head, air heavy with condensation and the smell of cedarwood. What a welcome for the new year. He counted each of his breaths each level he was taken above. His toes were stiff with chills in his boots, wriggling to get some warmth in his bones before the stroke of midnight.

Sliding in between the doors, he grunted whilst fidgeting in his pockets. At last, his key came free and it slid into the door - awkwardly, so he made a mental note to oil it later into his shore leave. The door slid open. John instantly withdrew his pistol, using the muzzle to push the door open further. A quick evaluation showed the additional cylinder lock still functional.

Abandoning his bag outside his door, John silently prowled into the front room, expecting anything: unturned furniture, ransacked drawers, an identical gun pointed straight at him, anything.

Except for the large lump he spied tucked up on the couch.

The maroon throw blanket that usually rested over the back of the sofa was curled around a sleeping body. John pivoted around, his gun still raised until he saw the face poking out the blanket’s edge. Then his arms slacked, the gun still safe but loose in his grip by his thigh as he laughed under his breath.

He reached across to the side table and flicked on the lamp. Its golden glow highlighted the scar on your cheek, a new one gained in the nine months since he’d seen you last. Your chest was rising and falling with little snores accompanying each motion.

Once he’d retrieved his bag, John slung it to the floor beside the almost identical one at your feet. He debated over what to do next. Eventually, he landed on clearing his throat.Your head lifted instantly, your soporific gaze meeting his equally tired one.

“Hello, stranger,” He said, his voice hoarse yet kind.

“Hi,” You replied, rubbing your eyes before waving a hand at the front door, “Sorry, I waited an hour before I picked the locks.”

So you had gone through the motions of getting his address but not his phone number. Not for the first time in his life, John questioned your train of thought. Then he remembered what he put you through for a decade and decided that hypocrisy was not the goal of the evening.

“Waited longer than I would’ve,” He huffed then used his foot to carefully nudge your overnight bag, the onehe knew you could live out of for a fortnight if push came to shove.

You didn’t notice, or chose not to, instead asking, “What time is it?”

“Uh,” John checked his watch before taking it off, “Half eleven.”

You nodded in acceptance but made no further effort to talk, looking down at your hand fidgeting with the throw rug in your lap.

Sensing you didn’t wanna get into the reason you were sleeping in his sitting room yet, John offered you a helping hand, “You can take my bed. We can save the shop talk for tomorrow.”

Your hand in his, hauling yourself up, grip tougher than it looked, you moved past him, leading the way to the bedroom, “Thanks.”

John didn’t ask how you knew which door it was behind. Rather, he sought refuge in his en suite, shedding his clothes and finding the energy to bother separating them into his divided laundry baskets. It was all he could handle not to fawn over you being in his home and your reason. You always were a curveball in his life, keeping him on his toes. Opting against the effort of shaving, he washed his face and pulled on his pyjamas.

Somehow, the image of you slotting in your earplugs and seeming stiff in the middle of the ice cold bed tilted John’s world off its axis all the more. You whispered a good night to him, which he returned, then he moved away, out and onto the couch just as you had done. His feet poked out onto the armchair, but he didn’t bother covering them in the throw. Instead, he focused on the ceiling, flat and smooth with boring white paint.

Sudden cheers caught his attention, echoing from outside. Faintly, he could make out the numbers descending.

The bellowing of “zero” brought flashes of red and yellow lights slipping through the gap in the curtains. They irritated the white paint with splashes of unpredictability. John’s mind switched up, despite his deep breathing, and he swiftly closed the blinds behind the curtains, shutting out any sign of the new year from his sitting room. Slipping back under the blankets, his body tensed against the few echoes of explosions that made it past the double glazing. He despised every second his body betrayed his intentions, putting him in work-mode in the comfort of his home when he could normally flip the switch without a second thought.

After about ten minutes, John pushed to sit up and groped around the sofa cushions for the remote. Grounding himself amidst the sounds with the images of the sparks showering around the Thames had to be easier than this.

Outside, some drunkards singing Auld Lang Syne clashed with the sporadic and delayed fireworks and the arid display on his TV set. It did little to convince his amygdala that he didn’t need five exit strategies on top of the ones he already had in place. The only reassurance was that, if something were to happen, this would be a nice place to go – with you nearby.

A dim shadow in the screen turned John’s head to see you and how you’d found his dressing gown, donned it accordingly.

You spoke before he could. “Can’t sleep. Where’s your tea?”

When you held up your hand to his attempt to get on his feet, John began pointing out the cupboards needed for your quest. His twisted spine didn’t complain; you brewing for two nondescript mugs was far more fascinating than whatever revelries were going on in some London stadium or recording studio. A soft thanks crossed his lips as you passed one mug to him over the back of the couch.

“Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year. What you watching?”

“BBC concert. Wanna watch with me?”

“You’re so fucking-” You let out a huff, then you hit him lightly with the dressing gown’s cord: “Polite.”

With a short yet deep belly laugh, John patted the sofa cushion beside him, “Never been called that in my life.”

“Don’t make me do it again then.”

Still, you moved around the couch and sat in the space offered to you. A healthy distance cushioned between John’s legs and yours.

Temptation to ask about what you’d been doing the past nine months blended well with the milk and tea – it was “tomorrow” after all. The words were on the tip of his tongue, ready to fall out in such a casual way to mask the impact of your reply, whatever it would be. You couldn’t just be here and not have something to say.

Your earplugs, nudged neatly in place, protected you from the stray fireworks outside and from noticing John’s runaway train of thought. It was almost peaceful to watch Rick Astley and Rylan (of all people) bop about on stage with warmth in your hand and at your side. Just enough to settle your stomach, you sipped your tea and absorbed the warmth through your palms.

In a move categorised under “high risk, high reward”, John unfolded the blanket he had been sheltered under and held up the corner in your peripherals wordlessly. You tried not to let this action derail your intentions as you tucked in closer to him to lay that portion of the blanket over your lap.

Three inches of suffocation between the two of you yet goosebumps extended from your arm hairs to feel the hum of his blood beating through his veins, like your body needed proof you were really next to him and not just a daydream you’d conjured up each time you debated if you regretted your choice or when you’d revisited the situation in therapy numerous times. This feeling was no doubt mutual. John Price had the patience of a sniper, but you were dangling him off a precipice whilst he waited for you to explain yourself.

Knocking back another sip of tea like it was whiskey, you asked, “I’m not keeping you up, am I?”

“No. No, you’re all good.” John told both truth and lies. Yes, you were fine being here. But you’d kept him up many nights, not just this one.

He zeroed in on your wrist as you leaned forwards to place your mug on the only other coaster on the coffee table. A new tattoo of a lit match sat beside his callsign’s artwork, the flame’s linework a nice contrast to the helmet’s bold yet fading black. So much of John’s attention was on the inked pairing that he almost missed what you said to him as you sat back into the couch.

“I think I’m ready to try and work things out with you.”

John wasn’t the kind of man to double take at something shocking. His body was built for earthquakes, absorbing all shockwaves, no swaying, sturdy and reliable. But the phrase he’d hoped to hear all those months ago sent tremors off the Richter scale. Twice glancing at your complicated expression, your words sank into his head with a sluggish pace he was unfamiliar with.

“What?” He asked, his heart beginning to pound and pine for confirmation.

You gave him the privilege of looking right in your eye as you repeated yourself, as steady as before:

“I’d like for us to try working things out. I’m ready to move on from that and I’d like to do that with you, like you asked me to back in March.”

A lot of Nerve was needed to pull this stunt off. Good thing you were known for it. The old times, so far away, waved to the new ones you’d just told him could exist.  

Eyelids pressing shut to stave the mist that filled them, John’s chin met his chest as his head gave into gravity. His voice had gone AWOL. Maybe you were gonna be in the habit of making his speechless, but he wouldn’t care if you did if it meant what you said was God’s honest truth.

Meanwhile, you were starting to tremble with the effort you’d made to come here in the first place. All the decisions you’d opted for, rehearsals with your therapist and in your head, led you to sit in front of him and say with the integrity of your soul bared that, after months of absence, you were willing to try properly. And you were met with a stoic stern man sniffling.

“Am I too late?” You said quietly.

John sighed, drawing himself back up to show you the smile breaking out on his face, “Never.”

First time in years, your tears were not brewed in agony and his presence hummed in your veins. Reaching for your hands, John’s snapped together with yours like magnets. It wasn’t enough. Almost instantly, you had climbed into his lap and wrapped yourself around him until you could strangle each other with your iron grips. You felt nauseous with relief. John’s nose stuffed into your neck, his entire body bloating as he breathed you in with his burly arms firm against your back.

The smallest gap between you so that he could look you in the eye. His thanks fell from his lips over and over, like water tumbling down a fissure, for giving him another chance. Through his gratitude, he could see in the glass of your eyes how much you’d worked to get to here – to him, for him. Because of damage that he’d caused. The best thing anyone had ever done for him, and he didn’t deserve it. But he would take it in this rough reunion, too overcome to do more than just sink into one another.

Far from the same, from before, from a normal steady relationship that would survive under normal circumstances, especially considering you’d be shipped back out to Urzikstan in three days. But God, you knew you’d made the right choice coming back at this point in time. You’d take every second with him now that you could.

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

AN: And that's it! I finally finished writing a fanfiction series. Thank you for reading and engaging with it on here and AO3. I really appreciate everything. Thank you again also to @mockerycrow for the original concept and allowing me to write this inspired piece of writing. Onwards, to the next fanfic!

Tag-list: @mockerycrow and @algor-babe

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Path Forward

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 3,627

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: The party makes their way back into the Underdark, discouraged and down on their luck after their time at the Creche. Now, they have to decide how they can move forward and find a new lead to cure their tadpoles. Part 8 of the slow burn fic. Halsin and Tav POVs

Tags: Slow burn, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, light angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries.

A/N: Sorry for the wait between updates here! Life got a bit hectic for a couple of weeks. I ended up needing to split the Underdark chapters up so they wouldn't get too long. The next one should be a much shorter wait :) Thanks for continuing to read!!

Tav led her dejected group of adventurers back through the wilderness, making their way down to the Underdark again. While she was still unconscious, the others had found another entrance to the Underdark in the Zhentarim hideout. Given that it was a little closer, they opted to go this way rather than march all the way back to the goblin camp.

Last night, just as everyone was beginning to turn in for the evening, an unexpected visitor had shown up at their camp. Kith’rak Voss, knight supreme, and a fellow traitor in Vlaakith’s eyes. He came to recruit Lae’zel to his cause, to overthrow Vlaakith’s unrightful rule. Apparently, the prism they carried held the key to her demise. He explained that the purification process githyanki boasted about was nothing but a bold-faced lie. The zaith’isk does not extract, it only kills. They had promised to meet him in Baldur’s Gate, should they survive that long. Lae’zel had been strangely quiet about the ordeal, likely still coming to terms with the fact she wasn’t welcome with the majority of her kin. So now, not only were they still hosting mind flayer parasites, but they had been branded enemies of Vlaakith herself, doomed to be hunted across the Sword Coast by her faithful. Fighting their way out of the Creche was difficult enough, she wasn’t looking forward to the lich queen sending her best warriors to pursue them.

Tav’s disappointment was plain to see in her slumped shoulders and shuffling footsteps. The past two days were a detour they could scarcely afford, and she was the one who pushed them in that direction. Even Karlach seemed subdued, merely chuckling at any half-assed quips Astarion let out rather than her normal cackle. He was the only one who was relatively content with keeping his tadpole, allowing him to walk in the sun a little while longer.

Halsin jogged his way up to her at the front of the group. He slowed his pace to walk alongside her.

“I can’t help but notice you’re looking a tad displeased.” He said.

“I think I’ve earned the right to feel a little upset right now, Halsin.” Tav knew he meant well, she just didn’t have the energy to joke right now.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.” His voice lowered a bit, sending a stab of guilt into Tav’s gut. She let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do next. They followed me to the Creche, which was a dead end. Almost literally.” She remembered their bruised and battered bodies stumbling into camp last night. Her shoulder still ached slightly from falling off of a ladder during one of the fights.

“I know. I can see the uncertainty in your eyes. You think you’ve wasted precious time following false hopes. I can’t imagine my sulking helped with that guilt.” He looked away from her for a moment.

“First and foremost, your priority has been to remove the tadpoles lodged in your heads. You had no way of knowing where Lae’zel’s hunch would lead, at the time it seemed like the most rational path. And you are not the only one here who chose that path.”

“That’s kind of you to say.” Tav responded, her eyes still stuck on the dirt road in front of her.

“I know something of doubting your choices as a leader, my friend. As I told you, I’m here to lend my counsel whenever needed. I’ve met many people who have claimed to be leaders in my life, few have had the heart and compassion that you do. It’s obvious how you care for those in your company, you make decisions with great respect and consideration.” He kept his voice low so only they could hear.

She stayed silent for a while longer, thinking on his words. When their group had decided to band together, she hadn’t exactly meant to be their leader. At some point everyone just started to defer to her for all major decisions.

“I know that this is quite the setback, but please do not doubt yourself so heavily, Tav. Everyone trusts you a great deal – myself included. I doubt that anyone here is a stranger to disappointment and defeat. Except perhaps Shadowheart, but that is only because she is missing so many of her memories.” His last quip did make her chuckle a little.

“I am confident that you will all recover swiftly.”

“What makes you so sure?” She asked, finally looking up at him.

“Because you have no other choice, I’m afraid.” He had a sad smile on his face. They continued walking together, Halsin had grabbed one of her packs from her injured shoulder to carry. Lunari trotted around them, every now and then bumping her head into their legs to get them to pet her.

“I truly am sorry that you weren’t able to be cured of the tadpole yet.” Halsin broke their silence. “But if it is any consolation, I am grateful to have a few more days in your company.” He briefly rested a hand on her shoulder as they walked.

“As am I.” She replied. “Except…you know…about you.” A familiar warmth covered her cheeks at her awkward rambling.

Come on, Tav. I thought we were past this now.

As they approached Waukeen’s Rest, she let some of the others take the lead. They took her and Halsin down through the hideout, the smell of ash and decaying bodies filled her nose. As she looked over the ledge just inside the secret entrance, she saw that almost everything, and everyone, had been burnt to a crisp

“What in the hells did you guys do here?” Tav asked, covering her nose with the back of her hand.

“What? Like it’s our fault that they had the entire area laced with explosives? Karlach is literally a walking flame, darling. Accidents happen.” Astarion waved his hand dismissively.

“Hey now, Karlach didn’t touch the explosives at all. Gale was the one with speedy spell fingers.” Karlach had run up to join them.

“To be fair,” Gale started, pointing one index finger up in the air, “the fire bolt wasn’t aimed at the explosives, it was aimed at one of the Zhentarim. Who caught on fire. And then wandered too close to an oil barrel.” The little bout of banter brought a smile to Tav’s face. She was relieved to see they hadn’t completely lost their sense of humor.

Towards the back of the hideout, there was a concealed elevator of sorts. It looked old, Tav was skeptical about all of them piling onto this at the same time.

“I think we should probably go in groups. This seems a little…dated.”  She gulped as she inspected the ropes and pulleys attached to the platform. Everything at least seemed in good working order.

“Who wants to go first?” She asked.

“After you, darling.” Astarion teased.

“I uh, I can wait for the second group.” Tav said quickly as she took a step away from the platform.

Everyone looked at her curiously. Astarion and Karlach started to giggle a little bit.

“Are you…are you afraid of heights?” Astarion pointed an accusing finger at her.

“I’m not afraid! I have a healthy skepticism of old wooden machinery that happens to dangle a mile above the ground.” She could feel her cheeks getting warm at the teasing.

“I’m sorry, you can slaughter a camp of goblins, a hag, an entire Creche filled with githyanki warriors, and a fully grown owlbear. But you draw the line at a little elevator ride?” Astarion was laughing harder now.

“Well, if you’re so confident why don’t you hop on?” Tav shot back.

“Fine if it’ll help you get over your fears.” He waved his hand in the air again and strode over to the platform, jumping on it lightly to show how sturdy it was.

“See? Nothing to be worried about.” He crossed his arms and stared her down.

She flared her nostrils at him and pressed her lips into a hard line. With everyone staring at her, she took a few tentative steps toward the wooden platform. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. The first step she took onto the elevator caused it to wobble slightly and she recoiled away from it, slamming into Halsin behind her. He smiled down at her and stepped to the side to walk onto the platform next to Astarion. He turned around and held his arm out to her. Tav quickly dug a scroll of Feather Fall out of her pack and held it against her chest...just in case. She nervously reached out with her other hand to grab Halsin’s arm and pulled herself tight against him. Wyll walked on behind her as well and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Lunari trotted over to lay down at her feet, giving a soft whine. Tav continued clinging to Halsin as the winch began to turn and slowly lower them back into the Underdark.

***

Halsin was grateful for the lower light to hide his blush and grin. Tav was breathing heavily and grasping the Feather Fall scroll in one hand, turning her knuckles white. She had her face buried in his shoulder and both of her arms wrapped around his arm tightly. Her free hand had his in an iron grip, digging her nails into his knuckles. She must have been terrified based on the fact she didn’t seem to be blushing or embarrassed as she held onto him like her life depended on it.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t call you our ‘fearless’ leader anymore.” Astarion giggled.

“Fuck off.” Tav’s voice was muffled by Halsin’s shoulder.

Tav let out another shaky breath as the platform swayed in an unnerving manner. He watched as they slowly descended through the ground, the environment around them gradually shifting to the strange flora of the Underdark. After a long ride, he could finally start to make out the ground beneath them. The glowing crystals and mushrooms lit the area below, giving them just a little more light to see by.

“We’re almost there, Tav. I can see the ground now.” He whispered as he briefly placed his other hand on one of her arms. She nodded against him in response, still maintaining her death grip.

“You know, Tav, you really are missing a splendid view.” Astarion mocked from the other side of him. “Just open your eyes, face your fe–”

Halsin cut Astarion off with a small nudge, just enough to make him think that he could go tumbling over the edge of the elevator. Of course he wouldn’t let that happen, he had a hold of the back of his shirt. The small squeal that escaped Astarion’s throat was worth it though. Wyll was stifling a laugh on the other side of Tav.

“How clumsy of me.” Halsin said with a smirk. Astarion glared at him over his shoulder.

“Oh gods…why are we shaking?” Tav somehow managed to squeeze him even tighter, causing him to grunt in pain.

Worth it.

After a few more minutes, the elevator hit the ground below. Tav remained stuck to his side even after they stopped moving.

“Tav? We made it.” Halsin urged her gently. She slowly rotated her head to peek at their new surroundings, releasing a relieved sigh when she saw they were once again on solid ground. Right on cue, she realized she was still clinging to Halsin’s arm and jumped to the side like he had shocked her; her cheeks turned that endearing shade of pink.

“Oh! Ha, thanks.” She laughed awkwardly and looked down at his hand spotting the small nail marks she left there. “Oh shit…I’m sorry about that.”

“Nothing to worry about, you didn’t even draw blood. I’m sure the marks will fade within the hour.” He smiled at her reassuringly, trying and failing to keep his mind from wandering. He found himself imagining the marks lined up and down his body.

No, stop it. Get ahold of yourself, Halsin.

He shook his head to force himself back to his current conversation. Astarion had a smug grin stretched across his face.

“Yes, no worries, Tav. I’m sure he’s used to the feel of your nails digging into him, what with your recent late-night excursions and all.” He teased, batting his eyelashes as his eyes shifted between her and Halsin.

His breath caught in his throat and Tav’s eyes went wide, her skin now turning a shade that matched Karlach’s. Wyll looked between all three of them, obviously confused and scared to ask for clarification. The elevator behind them started the ascent back up to the Zhentarim hideout.

“No that’s…it’s not what…we haven’t even…I don’t…” Tav was sputtering nonsensically. “Argh! You are so annoying, you know that?” She yelled at him as she stormed off in a huff.

Halsin thought she’d scour the entire Underdark easily at the pace she was setting. But a strange voice called out to them, stopping her in her tracks.

***

“They are coming.” The voice calling out to Tav in her mind was gruff, yet somehow melodic and charming as well.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one hearing that voice.” She said quietly.

“No, no I heard it too.” Halsin sounded concerned.

Wait…Halsin?

“You can hear it?” Tav asked, shocked. She assumed it was something to do with the tadpole. Wyll and Astarion must have shared her theory because they whipped around to stare at him as well.

“More are coming. You are coming.” The strange voice glided out of her thoughts.

“What the fuck.” She mumbled under her breath.

“Please tell me we aren’t going to look for the source of that voice.” Astarion pleaded.

“Something tells me we won’t have much of a choice.” She sighed. “We’ll wait for the others before moving on just in case.”

Astarion dramatically threw himself onto a pile of crates.

“For fucks’ sake…” Tav muttered. “Here, you big baby.” She reached into her pack and fished out a couple of lockpicks and some tools for disarming traps.

“Why don’t you keep busy and start looking through some of these chests, huh? That one looks expensive.” She held the small tools out in her palm, trying to entice him out of his tantrum. He looked up and gave her a brooding look. “You can keep the gold you find.” She pumped her eyebrows up and down a couple of times.

“You have to ask nicely.” He pouted. She flared her nostrils at him and fought off an eye roll.

“Oh, Astarion…your hands are so slight and nimble. Your fingers dance around locks like silvery rays of the purest moonlight. None of us could compare with that level of finesse.” She said the words in the most monotone way possible, gesturing her hands lazily at the chests and boxes around them.

“And…?”

“You are such…an…” She gritted her teeth, not wanting to finish.

“Say it.” Astarion coaxed.

“Inspiration.” She growled.

“Oh, stop it, darling. You’re embarrassing yourself.” He slid over to her and snatched the tools out of her hand before running off with a giggle.

Whatever, it’s better than him sulking until the others arrive.

Tav and Wyll went through some of the unlocked crates to look for any supplies. Halsin seemed distracted as he took in the Underdark surroundings, he had a distant look on his face that worried her.

“Halsin? You okay?” She asked quietly as he blankly stared over the Underdark landscape ahead of them.

“Hm? Oh, of course. My eyes are still just adjusting to the darkness here.” He smiled lightly, but there was a nervous undertone to his voice. Before she could press the matter further, Karlach’s voice called out to her.

“Hey, soldier! You made it down in one piece. No big deal, right?” Her giant smile shone easily through the darkness.

“Outside of clawing Halsin’s arm to shreds? Yeah, no big deal.” She rolled her eyes slightly. “Listen, we have a situation.” Tav explained the voice they heard.

“More voices? My mind is full enough of those as is.” Gale complained.

“I have a feeling we need to go towards it. When it entered my mind, it felt…scared. Like it was a cry for help.”

“The last time you had a feeling, we ended up fighting dozens of githyanki warriors for our life. Besides, we can hardly afford another detour.” Astarion had come back over to join the group and draped an arm over Gale’s shoulder. He was wearing noticeably more jewelry than before, a golden chain adorned with tiny sapphires dangled from his hand.

His words caused Tav to withdraw slightly, her earlier guilt returning tenfold. She looked around the group of tired faces, suddenly feeling paralyzed. What if she made the wrong decision again, delaying them further? Her eyes fell on Halsin who gave her a reassuring nod.

“And what if the help they need is related to the Absolute?” She finally said. “What if they can help us find our way to Moonrise? We have no idea where this secret stronghold is.”

“Which is why we should have just taken the route from the Mountain Pass. We have to deal with the shadow cursed lands eventually, we might as well just get it over with.” Wyll countered. He had suggested the route before – he was anxious to find his father.

“Perhaps, but the area just past the Mountain Pass is heavy with the curse. I fear if we went that way we would not long survive before the shadows would overtake us.” Halsin spoke up.

“Halsin’s right, the shadows there are a wicked, terrible presence. Some types of light will protect us for a short time, but it won’t be enough. We’ll be lucky if we can make it to Moonrise Towers before it consumes us.” Tav shuddered at the thought.

“No…we need to find out how the cultists are able to traverse the land safely. If we can find this secret passage, we’ll likely find out how they’ve made it that far.” She insisted.

“How bad could it be? We’ve got Shadowheart to cast some handy light spells, we can scrounge up some torches, not to mention that nifty glowing mace we found. So long as we stick together, I’m sure we’ll be fine!” Karlach’s peppy tone did little to calm the anxiety gripping Tav.

“Well spoken, Karlach. I agree, we haven’t gone too far yet…” Wyll continued talking, but Tav couldn’t listen anymore.

The darkness around her swirled like smoke, choking her, trying to bring back memories of those cursed shadows. She forced them down, refusing to let them overtake her now. They didn’t understand, how could they? There was no way to explain to them the horrific magic that awaited them at Moonrise. Her vision swam, her chest burned with anxiety and dread. She felt the phantom claws of shadows and wraiths reaching for her arms, struggling to pull her into the wicked darkness around her, beckoning her to follow.

“No!” She bellowed, startling everyone as they whipped around to face her again. “I’m not spending any longer in that cursed land than I have to. None of you understand, you weren’t there!”

Involuntary tears started streaming down her face, dripping off of her chin and soaking the collar of her shirt. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body and squeezed her eyes shut to try and force her tears to stop. It didn’t help, she continued to sniffle as dark memories tried to drag her down into their abyss. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, still tightly clutching her own chest.

“You weren’t there…” She whispered between sobs.

The others simply stared at her in stunned silence. She hung her head and tried to gain some semblance of composure.

“If you won’t follow me on this path, feel free to go back on your own. I’ll continue through the Underdark alone if I must. Perhaps we’ll be able to meet again at Moonrise.” She barely choked the words out. “Just don’t ask me to go back there yet. I can’t. Not until I know that I can protect us.” It hurt her to offer the ultimatum, she was really starting to consider them friends. She couldn't stand the thought of them facing the curse without her guiding them, but she couldn't go yet. She knew exactly what was waiting for them and she was terrified of going back. No, she needed more time to prepare.

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances with one another but said nothing. Tav slowly stood up and turned away from them, ready to continue on by herself. A large hand gently grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She glanced over her shoulder to see Halsin standing behind her.

“You won’t be alone, Tav.” He assured her. She turned around to face him as the others walked up to stand with them as well.

“Of course you won’t be. We’re with you, soldier.” Karlach added. “If you say this is the way, I’ll follow you.”

The rest of the party walked up behind her, all nodding and murmuring their agreement. They would stay and follow her, hopefully to find a way through the shadows.

“Lead on, friend.” Wyll patted her shoulder.

Tav nodded and took a shaky breath. She knew that their path was leading back to Moonrise Towers, it was unavoidable now. But she at least had a few more days to prepare for it. As she moved to start leading them further into the Underdark, Halsin’s hand briefly passed over hers, his fingers lingering against hers for just a moment longer than expected.

[cepetriwrites]

The Unexpected Second Life of Bree Tanner - Chapter 12

Read on AO3

Bree POV

The Cullens immediately vetoed the idea of me roadtripping to Nevada to visit my mother’s grave, after I had calmed down from my… not crying, I understood. I was still upset, but truth be told I wasn’t ready to trust myself around humans yet. Truthfully, if I had known Bella could stop me, I don’t think my gratitude would have kept me from killing her. And I didn’t feel a life debt to the rest of the humans. The Cullens didn’t eat people because it was wrong to kill other humans, it made them feel guilty. I don’t know how they managed to feel that way. Sometimes I would feel bad, hearing their screams, but I was so hungry all the time, nothing else mattered but trying to soothe the burning. I don’t even know if I actually liked the taste of blood, or if I liked how it soothed the pain.

A couple days had passed, when the kids were in school I spent most of my time trying to remember my mom. It’s like I had been drunk my whole life, everything felt hazy, Rosalie explained to me after I had a panic attack – at least I think it was, hard to tell when you don’t need to breathe – that if I focused on my memories, they would become clear again, and never fade. So that’s what I had been doing nearly every moment. Shifting through my memories, trying to remember everything, hoping it would help me piece together my mom.

Unfortunately there were a lot of bad memories too, sometimes I had to take breaks and I’d paint with Esme, or watch tv with Emmett, play a family board game. I wondered if it was worth all the pain it took, but my whole life I thought my mom had abandoned me, that my abusive father was the one who loved me, because at least he stayed. Eventually I figured I was just unlovable. But I had been wrong. My mom had cared about me. I had dug up a near-forgotten memories of pancakes in the morning, that we made together. I wanted to remember everything, because if I was wrong about my mom, maybe one day I would look back and realized other people had cared about me too. Despite what my dad used to say.

It did cause migraines, so I had decided to take a break and use the Cullen’s computer. I hadn’t gotten to use one much when I was human, of course the Cullens could afford the best. They kept reassuring me they could afford to fix anything I broke, that everyone had broken a lot of expensive stuff, but the idea of breaking this high tech computer with its Windows 95 system terrified me. I couldn’t bring myself to type on the keyboard so I would use a pencil when no one was looking. It made typing a lot slower.

“You don’t need to do that,” Rosalie said from the hallway, I dropped my pencil and nearly fell out of my chair. How does a vampire sneak up on another vampire?!

“I just… don’t want to break anything.”

Rosalie gave me a smile, “If it makes you feel better, what are you looking up?”

“Um,” I looked at the loading page for cinnamon sticks, I was in to deep to explain that. “just… learning how to use it.”

“Cool, do you want to go for a ride? I’ve upgraded the suspension on my baby and it rides like a dream, no humans.”

“Sure!” Driving in Rosalie’s car sounded fun, an opportunity Human Bree never would’ve gotten. Rose was the mechanic of the family, I had watched her do an oil change once, it felt weird seeing a supermodel covered in oil, but somehow she pulled it off.

Driving with the windows down, and the wind in our hair, I felt like a normal girl, I had bothered to ask how long we’d be out, it’s not like we had a curfew. She kept driving her convertible until we had to stop for gas. “Are we going back now?” I asked as she turned on to the road.

“Nope.” She said, putting her sunglasses back on.

I started to feel nervous, “Where are we going?”

“Nevada.”

“What!” I shouted, “Rosalie I can’t go to Nevada! Dr Carlisle and Esme said no!” I looked at her phone it had buzzed multiple times, when I had asked Rosalie said Emmett was messaging her and she’d answer later, then she had turned it off. “Rose… has Emmett been messaging you?”

“A couple times, but eventually the rest of the family figured out what was going on.”

I nervously gripped my seat belt, “We’re going to get in trouble! They found out! There’s a psychic in the family, why did you try to get away with this?”

“Try? I did, we’re too far away for them to get to us unless they get a flight, and even then, we’ll still reach our destination.”

“How did you even pull this off?”

“Because I’m smart and know things. Like that Alice sees everything, but can’t pay attention to everything, she’s only paying attention to if you cause trouble. Even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she’s also hyperfocused on throwing the best wedding and graduation party, and trying to see if the florist will get a cold, which means she’s slacking on watching you. I know that Edward can’t read your mind, and he’s too busy trying to spend every second with his precious girlfriend, and making sure her grades don’t drop because he’s trying to get her to start at one of the many colleges she’s applied too, and the ones he secretly applied to on her behalf. I knew that when Carlisle went to work, & Esme got roped into doing shopping with Alice in Seattle, that Jasper would be kept busy by Emmett and not even think about asking where we’re going. And I knew that I could drive for hours without Alice being the wiser as long as I didn’t think about where I was going.”

Never cross Rosalie Cullen, “What about us? We can’t go in the Sun and I don’t want to accidentally hurt someone.”

“That’s why I have the gloves and hats, you’re going to stay in the car. Besides you just ate and I can the news about your mom is making you much more empathetic, you’re not going to go hunting for anyone right now.”

“You were fearless as a human, weren’t you?” Rosalie replied by flashing her dazzlingly white teeth at me.

I didn’t know if Rosalie was right, but she sounded so confident, it was impossible to not believe her, so I turned up the radio and decided to enjoy the ride. Super massive black hole came blaring through, the wind was in my hair, I felt normal.

Almost twenty hours later we arrived at my hometown: Las Vegas, Nevada. The Sun was blazing in the sky, so Rosalie pulled over to a motel, she explained she had booked it in advance, and we hid out in a room with the curtains drawn tight. “This feels so risky,” I said as I relaxed on the spring mattress while Rosalie idly flipped through the tv channels.

Rosalie snorted, “You should ask Alice about her little ‘day trip’ to Italy, sometime. We’re the well-behaved ones of the family compared to her and Edward.”

“Really? But I’m the one who’s always thinking about eating people.”

Rosalie gave a sympathetic look, “Jasper has you beat still, we’ve had to move four times because of him, we try not to mention it. He always spirals into a depression after a slip up.”

The Cullens seemed so perfect to me, it was reassuring to hear they disowned their parents and sometimes accidentally ate a person. It made it easier for me to believe I could belong with them. “Hey Rose, if you brought me with spontaneously, how did you book the motel in advance?" I asked after a bit of silence.

“Oh, I had been planning to come down here, bringing you along was a last minute opportunity.” She didn’t have to explain why she would make a random trip out to the too sunny Las Vegas, I knew she was trying to help me learn more about my mom.

We laid there in comfortable silence for a few more hours, until Rosalie went to front office to attend to “some business”. When she returned, she had a white USPS box in her hands. I sat up, “What is that?”

Rosalie handed the box to me, “It’s um,” this was strange, I had never seen Rosalie nervous before. “It’s your mom.” My mouth hung open, “It’s why I came to Nevada. She didn’t have any next of kin left to claim her, so I had Emmett fake some paperwork and ship the remains to our motel.”

“Remains?”

“She was cremated,” Rosalie explained, “I hope that’s okay. This way you can always bring her with you.”

I slowly pulled out the plastic bag in the box. It was filled with gray dust, ashes, that used to be my mom. “HUMAN REMAINS” was stamped in bold letters, along with her name: Erica Tanner. I stared at the package for a long time, trying to understand how one person could end up being a few pounds of ashes. I ran my thumb over her name. “Hi Mommy.” If I could’ve cried a second time, I would’ve. Rosalie wrapped me in a hug until the sun went down.

The whole drive back, I kept my mother hugged tight to my chest. I was never going to let her go again.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Wishes are sometimes like sea glass floating aimlessly in the sea

Aside from swimming, I think one of my favorite things to do at the beach is collect things like seashells and sea glass. To me, there’s just something so satisfying about finding little treasures in the sand. It may not seem like much, but I just think they’re neat.

In the daytime, we collect little treasures and go swimming. At night, we sit around the bonfire and gaze at the stars. That’s pretty much what we’ve been doing these past couple days as daylight still stretches far enough even though it’s technically not really summer anymore.

And when there’s a bonfire, there has to be music. That’s the rules. Not necessarily campfire songs - I don’t think we’ve ever done an actual round of campfire songs - just whatever strikes our fancy. I’m lucky to have so many musically talented friends, so all the more reason why music is a must when we gather around the fire!

Speaking of music, I’ve got a some musical talents visiting the camp. First, there’s Emmaline and Minnie. They’re going back out on the road after taking a break earlier this year. Then there’s Lan, Ying, Hua, Xiang, and Eiko. And, of course, none of this was planned, so that’s what makes it more fun.

Emmaline and Minnie arrived a couple days earlier and were looking forward to chilling out at the camp. They plan to stick around for a while before meeting up with Lenny on a space adventure. They’ve both been talking about going on more space adventures, especially since they haven’t done much of that over the past few years aside from catching up with the StarGazers.

Seeing the Yuexing gang was an unexpected surprise, so it’s nice to catch up with them. Lan and the crew are on break, so she’s been using the downtime to catch up with Ying, Hua, and Xiang. Eiko doesn’t have anywhere to go since everyone else has gone home, so they’re staying with Lan in the city and is in the process of looking for a place of their own, preferably in the outskirts where it’s quieter, and hopefully in line with what they can afford.

Like I said earlier, Emmaline and Minnie are slowly getting back into life on the road. It’s a combination of them taking a break from all that traveling, as well as take care of health issues that popped up recently.

In Minnie’s case, it’s a reoccurrence of an old injury from years of sword fighting. A several years back, she banged up her shoulder pretty badly in a mission. It didn’t seem that bad at the time, but as she got older, problems popped up once in a while, usually when she pushed herself too hard. She said it was more of annoyance, not really something that negatively impacted her day to day life.

Although Minnie doesn’t pull out her sword as much anymore, she still likes to spar with Kate and Freya from time to time. But she also does other things like violin and tennis, so that also puts a strain on her shoulder too. Eventually, it got to a point where it was negatively impacting her everyday life. So her mom, a doctor, referred her to a specialist, who told her that she needed surgery.

It’s been almost three months since Minnie’s surgery and she says she’s doing a lot better now. Her doctor told her that she healed quickly, which is good. She can’t spar or play tennis yet, and she’s looking forward to getting back into it soon.

Minnie’s always full of energy, so it’s nice to see her up and about. She was always the kind of person who keeps pushing on, sometimes a little too much. I had suspected that something was up when I last saw her months ago. It wasn’t that she was exactly hiding something, more like she knew something was wrong, but she didn’t want to deal with it at the moment as she saw it as an annoying nuisance. It’s the whole push through the pain and hopefully it’ll go away kind of thing, which, in my experience, doesn’t always work.

Thankfully, the hard part’s behind her, and Minnie’s taking things slowly as per her doctor’s orders. She is a bit disappointed that she can’t swim with us though. But that doesn’t mean she can’t wade in the water, which she says is the next best thing since she won’t miss out too much.

Emmaline also had some problems pop up from an old injury, as well as “the usual”, and she’s slowly getting back on her feet. Earlier this year she had her meds changed to something stronger because her old meds weren’t working for her anymore. This is the third time she’s had to change her pills since she started taking them over 10 years ago, so she’s used to this whole routine.

Basically, during the second time around, her doctor had her stop taking a certain prescription because they felt she no longer needed it, and she was happy about that. After all, the less pills she has to take, the better. So she was able to go by for a few years without any problems. But then she began having problems and it was negatively impacting her day to day life, so her doctor put her something similar, but more stronger.

And as with all meds, there are side effects to watch out for. In Emmaline’s case, an antipsychotic, it’ll also take a while before it kicks in. So there really wasn’t much for her to do because there was no predicting what’ll happen. And Emmaline being Emmaline, I’m sure she was pretty restless during that time.

There’s nothing worse than knowing that you have shit to get done, but your brain refuses to focus, so you end up accomplishing nothing and feeling guilty about it. Sometimes doing things is hard, I don’t fully trust people who claim that they can simply just get up and do something without ever struggling. Like, what the fuck goes on in your brain that makes you suddenly decide that you can’t function to do the bare minimum?

Anyway. while Emmaline was dealing with meds, she had another thing to worry about as well. Like with the meds, this was also not entirely unexpected, but that doesn’t make it any less worrying. It has to do with “Lefty”, the one with the detached retina that took that required two surgeries to fix. While she’s lucky that they were able to restore most of her vision, it’s something she has to be careful about as there’s a likely chance the retina could detach again since it’s fragile. And if it does, there’s no guarantee if a third surgery’s gonna help. So there’s no point in taking unnecessary risks.

Apparently, people who are nearsighted - like really, really nearsighted - are at risk for retinal detachment. I know that because that’s what a doctor told me because my left eye - ha, what a coincidence - is super nearsighted. As in, on most of those scale thingies online that show you the degrees of myopia/nearsightedness and how it looks, I’m slightly off that scale. The highest is usually -6 and I happen to be -6.5. Go figure.

That being said, I don’t think I should be too worried. At least, my eye doctor hasn’t said anything other than keeping up with routine checkups. And it’s not like I would do anything that would increase my chances of an injury. Though it can just happen by itself, which I hope is very uncommon, but idk. It’s just one of those things where it’s probably unlikely, but you’re at a slightly higher risk than most.

Up until a few months ago, Emmaline hasn’t had any problems with Lefty. Then she began getting headaches while wearing her glasses, which she found she had to wear more frequently. Before, she really only wears them when she’s driving as she could go without them for pretty much everything else.

After having to going through two surgeries, it makes sense for Emmaline to be vigilant. I mean, imagine getting whacked around - something that used to happen fairly regularly for her back then - and instead of getting back up as usual, you can’t for some reason. Emmaline also ended up with a bloody nose that was thankfully not broken, but she was more confused about why her vision looked like someone put duct tape on her.

That was how she described it, and basically the first thing she asked when she got up. It’s one of those things she an Minnie kinda joke about these days, but it really was scary for them at the time. Lenny and the StarGazers were there too and they were also worried. Minnie called her mom, who then told everyone not to panic because they had to take Emmaline to the ER.

And Emmaline’s father was out on tour with Clover and Sheena, so imagine how freaked out they were when they got the call. Lenny ended up being the one who made the call because Minnie was with Emmaline, and he’s not really the kind of person who’s suited to do that kind of thing. Though, to be fair, how do you break it to your friend’s father, “Hey, um… your daughter bashed her head pretty badly. But she’s okay! Buuuuut she needs emergency surgery right away. Sorry to bother you! Byeee!”

Fortunately, Lefty’s doing fine and just needs a stronger prescription. That’s good to hear. Along with getting new glasses, Emmaline also got a prescription monocle, which she plans to wear more often. She decorated hers with a cute bunny charm and pastel beads to compliment her new hair. I think it looks very cute and very Emmaline!

Now that her hair’s grown past her shoulders, she’s dyed one side light pink and the other side light green. It’s a look that I feel like is hard for most people to pull off, not to mention something that most wouldn’t have the courage to even try. On Emmaline though, I think she looks great, especially with the side ponytail tied with a lace ribbon. It might look weird on most people, but she can definitely pull it off.

Ying and Hua have been busy with their music, having completed their second duo album and are now on the early stages of a third one. Moon and Stars was fantastic, so I’ve been keeping a close eye out for Iridescence. They’ve teased bits and pieces on their socials and the lead single, The Sound of a Voice, is coming out next week. I can’t wait to play it on repeat!

Xiang, Lan, Ying, and Hua are also using this visit as an opportunity to spar and brush up on their combat skills. Lan’s a badass on greatsword and the stories of her fighting a sea monster, while often exaggerated, is one of those things where you didn’t really need to embellish things anyway. She shrugs it off like it’s nothing, but I think it’s a pretty big deal!

While I’m aware that it’s required for adventurers to have basic combat skills, it surprises me that a chef and two artists would possess such talents. Hua took up spear fighting to improve her dancing, as well as learn some self defense. She just started out by taking classes where she learned the basics. Then she began incorporating her dance moves, which later caught Shen’s attention when she was practicing by the mountains. He then offered to train her for a time to help her fully incorporate dance and spear fighting into her own art.

Watching Hua wield her spear and effortlessly parry against her friends has been mesmerizing. It really is like watching a dance! The way she moves so gracefully while her hits are forceful - it’s hard to believe that she’s just a performer with those skills!

Xiang also wields a spear, though she calls it a polearm. She says there’s not much to it, she started out by taking classes when she was little Most kids played sports, she chose combat. When she was older, she was trained by her Master, a retired warrior who inspired Xiang to travel the world. In contrast to Hua, Xiang’s fighting style is full of short and quick movements.

She also does this super cool move where she charges forwards and sort of spins, kinda like a drill. Apparently, it’s good for dealing with groups of small monsters. I don’t know why, but I kinda picture it like her being a bowling ball and the monsters being the pins that get knocked over. While it’s a cool move to show off, Xiang says it’s not practical in most situations, which she finds a bummer since she invented that move. She hopes to create brand new moves like her Master did, but it’s really hard to not only think of something and commit to it, especially when it’s something you have to do over and over again.

Lan and Ying wield greatswords, and both were self taught. Ying pretty much picked it up by chance because she was bored. Swinging a greatsword came naturally to her since she’s used to swinging axes on her grandparents’s farm. She said she found that she wasn’t good with ranged weapons while she found the sword to be too light and a spear to be unwieldy because of the length. And like Hua, she thought to incorporate some of her combat skills into her performances.

In contrast to spears, Ying’s hits are heavy and impactful. She can also use her powers to summon a shield to protect herself and her teammates. So she’s one of the few who attacks and protects. Compared to Xiang and Lan though, she sees herself as more of a support. While her hits are slower, she makes it up by moving quickly and summoning her shield at the right moments.

Lan is as badass and as mesmerizing as it gets. Yeah, I can totally picture her as someone who fought head-on with a sea monster. From the way she effortlessly leaps and swings her weapon, it doesn’t look that heavy. The way I would describe her fighting style is fierce, like the rolling waves of a stormy sea.

Eiko doesn’t really have much experience in combat aside from basic self defense, so they’re hoping to learn more from Lan. So far, they haven’t decided on a weapon yet. They’re not even sure if they prefer melee or ranged. I think it’s one of those things where you have to rely on trial and error.

While this event’s about finding little treasures in the sand, the bonfire is what ties everything together. A warm and cozy fire with drinks and food is a good way to unwind, as well as open up, especially when you have company.

Of course, Lan drank the most as she can hold her alcohol pretty well. Eiko came second, which Lan finds surprising as she’s never seem them let loose like that. The rest of us - at least me - had only a few drinks, just enough to feel buzzed.

(Hopefully I won’t pay the price when I wake up tomorrow… Not that I’m the kind of person who drinks a lot and wakes up with a hangover the next morning.)

Like I mention, Eiko came as a surprise. Basically, we went from knowing a little about them, to pretty much their whole life’s story. And I have to say, I feel for Eiko and what they’ve been through, especially after learning more about their former home life.

Even though I’m not sure how to feel about someone I don’t know too well (yet) drunk traumadumping, I hope it was at least kinda cathartic for Eiko. I mean, I didn’t feel the need to step in - not that it was in my place to do so - and neither did Lan, who’s closest to them. Eiko’s got a lot on their mind, so I think it did them some good to let some of that anger and resentment out.

So, now we have more context as to why Eiko wanted to become a vampire. Let’s just say being dissatisfied with life is an understatement. And the thing about Eiko’s parents wanting them dead is a bit of an oversimplification, though not an exaggeration. It really is a lot to unpack, so I get why Eiko didn’t go into too much detail at first, especially since it took some time for me to sort out what they revealed.

To start, Eiko’s mother married twice. Her first marriage was to Eiko’s father, who had a daughter, Nana, from a previous marriage. When Eiko was around 13, their parents split, and their father basically blackmailed Eiko to agree to joint custody as that would be the only way they’d be allowed to see Nana. In other words, their father sounds like a piece of shit.

A lot of Eiko’s anger is obviously directed at him and it’s understandable why they can never forgive him. Nana confessed to them that their father had been abusing her and that he reportedly drove her mother to suicide. And because of him keeping a close eye on Nana, she and Eiko resorted to sneaking around.

Eiko said they felt guilt for not being able to save her, which obviously isn’t their fault since they were young. They said they watched their father tear Nana down into a shadow of her old self. And then she killed herself, having sent a suicide note to Eiko in their secret hiding spot, apologizing for not being a better older sibling.

To make matters worse, the father acted like it was nothing. Eiko’s mother eventually confronted him about Nana’s whereabouts after he kept brushing it off. Eiko said they got upset, as did their mother, and he just laughed them off. And if that’s not bad enough, he made Eiko take Nana’s ashes and flush them down the toilet, saying that Nana’s where she belongs and Eiko’s welcome to join her if they want. What the fuck.

Since then, Eiko hasn’t seen or spoken to him. They don’t count the attempted murder. While they believe that their mother and stepfather were truly deceived by that shady cop, they’re pretty sure their father just wants them dead. He tried to turn Eiko into his ideal son, only to lose interest when he realized they were nothing alike. They also speculate that it’s also why he mistreated Nana, because he saw her as inferior for being a daughter.

Unlike his father, Eiko has high hopes that their mother and stepfather would be more accepting of them once the misunderstanding’s cleared. They describe them as kinda out of touch, but they will eventually accept Eiko being a genderfluid vampire. If that’s the case, then I hope things get cleared up sooner rather than later.

Although a lot of what Eiko revealed about themselves is pretty heavy stuff, there’s also lighter tidbits of info too. Lore drops, as Xiang called them. Like how Eiko named themselves after one of their favorite singers. Or how when they first started sneaking out at night with Sari, their idea of rebellion at the time was sneaking into R rated movies and then playing video games the whole time. Or how they realized they were genderfluid after meeting Butterfly, a vampire with a cute face and a super deep voice who finds it amusing when people act baffled about their gender.

One thing that Eiko said that stuck out to me the most was something they said about sea glass being like wishes. The way they describe it, wishes have no rhyme or reason, so they kinda just float aimlessly. So it doesn’t hurt to make a wish, because even if they’re just whims, you put it into the world just by thinking about it. And sometimes, just knowing that it’s there can help, especially when it comes to things that you can’t control, so all you can really do is wait and see.

Read on AO3

[noreen-vogue08]

“YESTERDAY’S TASTE”

Prologue

Yesterday was just a piece of a memory. A memory that lasts forever. One where we can cherish for the rest of our lives. This was just a part of Amber’s story. A girl who has a big dreams. She dreams to have her own bake shop that she can bake whatever she wants. She loves fighting for her own circumstances each day until she met this guy, Kian. A guy who knows how to be man. He is a rich man who is the owner of the biggest company in USA but he chose to stay in the Philippines. He cares for Amber a lot, he wants to give her everything he can and the best for her. They had a relationship for 6 years and it all just stop when Amber got her brain tumor.

Chapter 1: Red Velvet Cake

One sunny morning, Amber is preparing the delicious cakes, muffins, and breads for her auntie’s bakeshop. She began opening the store and her regular customers came in to taste her delicious foods. Her favorite customer just came in, a man named Kian. He has those brown eyes, neat haircut, and fair skin. He always make sure that he would be the first and last customer to go in the bakeshop. For his last order, this time he ordered a red velvet cake and requested the other baker to write “May I court you, pretty baker?”. After receiving his order, he eventually gave it to Amber. Amber got so shocked and the butterflies went in her stomach immediately. She answered “yes!”. She knew that Kian would do everything for her and she appreciated everything he do for her. Kian continued to court her until he makes her his girlfriend.

Chapter 2: It’s Official

They planned to have mount hiking in Tagaytay at Mount Sungay. When they reached the top of the mountain, they watched the sunset together. Kian found it as a perfect timing to ask Amber to be his girlfriend. He said “ I have been proven my love for you. I will give you everything that you deserve in this world. Will you be my girlfriend?”. Amber can’t help but to cry in happiness, she did not hesitate to say “Yes”. She believes that Kian was so genuine about her. He always buy her flower, food and other things. He was so gentle to her. He loves giving her acts of services and affection. He always makes her feel special every day. Lastly, he always make her feel wanted. They have a healthy relationship that any couple would wish to have one.

Chapter 3: It all just stop…

Their relationship has been going now for 6 years. They didn’t imagine that they could last for that long. They are each other’s comfort, love and happiness. They couldn’t ask for more. Kian was about to propose to Amber that time. He prepared everything and make sure that everything would be perfect just to make Amber feel special. He rented a whole place and bought the most beautiful ring that is perfect for Amber. He gathered all the love ones of Amber and his. When Amber came in the venue, it was all black. In just a second, it was already filled with a romantic candles, lights, and flowers on the sides. There was a massive board, “Will you marry me?” was written in it. Amber got so shocked. She felt a lot of emotions that time. As she was about to answer Kian, she suddenly collapsed infront of him. Everything went black. It was the moment that no else could ever wish for. Kian rushed Amber to the hospital. He got so worried and left the venue immediately.

Chapter 4: Unexpected

After rushing Amber to the hospital, Kian got to know that Amber was having a brain tumor. It is getting worser. Everything was unexpected. Amber was very healthy and did not imagine having that kind of sickness. Amber needs an immediate treatment. Kian promised Amber to get the best doctor and the best treatment that she needed. They all did their best to provide the best doctors and treatment for Amber. It was getting harder and harder each day. Amber’s family can not afford to buy the best treatment for her. It was all Kian’s money. The hope that Amber has for her life is getting lower everyday. She feels that everything was not in the right path anymore. Everything was falling apart.

Chapter 5: Disney Land

The doctor said that Amber has only got 150 days to live. It can change if she would manage to endure the process of treatment. Amber realizes that she needs to enjoy the rest of her time in this world instead of getting a treatment. She feels like she’s a burden to Kian since she can see how Kian suffer in finding the best treatment for her. She didn’t realize that Kian was having a different thought. Kian wants Amber to live longer and he is willing to give her his best just so she could heal. They fought for that decision. Both of them has a different perspective. At the end, Kian let Amber decides on her own.

Disneyland Hongkong is the dream place of Amber. It was in their wishlist. Kian planned a trip to Disneyland Hongkong. Little did Amber know, Kian found the best treatment for her in Hongkong. As time goes by, they are now in Hongkong spending the rest days of Amber. One time, Amber caught Kian talking to someone in his phone. It was the one who will treat her. She got to know that it was all planned. She got furious about it. Kian got mad too and he told Amber “How about me? You did not consider my feelings. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t care if all my money in the bank was scraped. All I want is for you to live a longer life!” They all bursted out their emotions and unsaid thoughts that time. Kian walked out from Amber. That is when Amber realizes Kian’s efforts for her.

Chapter 6: Accident

It was a rainy night in Hongkong. They were both having a moment on their own that time. As Amber realizes everything, she instantly called Kian. At that moment, Kian was driving. As he was about to pick up the phone, a pickup truck overtake in the road and they crashed to each other. Kian was rushed in the hospital with full of blood running in his head and bruised all over his body. He manage to say the word “I love you, Amber” before he closes his eyes. Amber still doesn’t know anything that happened to Kian. She got so worried when she notices that it’s getting late, Kian is still not answering her calls. It’s already 2:53 am in Hongkong, she finally received a call. “Hello, is this the family of Mr. Kian Clyden Gutierez? We would like to inform you that he got into a car accident. He was rushed in the hospital.” As soon as she heard that information, her hands started to shake and she fell on her knees. Without any hesitation, she immediately went in the said hospital. She encountered Kian laying in the hospital bed, surrounded by different nurses and a doctor. She panicked and doesn’t know what to do. She saw the machine with a straight line. After hearing the word “Time of death 3:43 AM” she can’t help but to scream. Everything went blank. Her world just stop. Her happiness, her comfort and the love of her life is gone.

Final Chapter: The Ending Of Our Yesterday

The death of Kian was the greatest downfall of Amber. She did not expect this to happen. They both thought that she will die first. She felt like she lost everything and has no longer reason to live any longer. She realizes that Kian would do everything for her. If she would let her trauma eat her, all Kian’s efforts would just be put into a waste. She suffered for months and she know that she will never totally heal from her love, Kian. Using Kian as a motivation to heal helped her a lot, she managed to have a successful treatment in her tumor.

She started a new life. She promised to herself that she would never open her heart again for another man. Kian would always be in her yesterday’s. She moved to Italy, the place where Kian and her planned to live in, in the future. She let herself heal. After healing from the past, she decided to create a bake shop in Italy. She named it “Kian’s Favorites”, it was inspired by Kian’s favorite foods made by her. It became a famous bake shop in Italy, many customers loved her recipes. Kian was also just a part of her book of recipes, the one who she will cherish forever. Even though their story ends there, the memories and moments that they have will always stay in the memories of their yesterday.

-THE END-

Thank you for reading my story! Here are the soundtracks you can listen to on spotify while reading my story. The story of Kian and Amber. 🤍

[olko71]

New Post has been published on All about business online

New Post has been published on https://yaroreviews.info/2023/09/energy-bills-forecast-to-rise-in-january-to-1996

Energy bills forecast to rise in January to £1,996

Getty Images

By Michael Race

Business reporter, BBC News

Annual energy bills for a typical household are expected to rise by £73 in January, a new forecast suggests.

Consultancy firm Cornwall Insight predicts bills could increase to £1,996 under the official price cap set by the UK’s energy regulator Ofgem.

The energy price cap limits how much suppliers can charge households for each unit of energy they use.

Cornwall analysts said a rise in January would be largely down to increases in wholesale energy prices.

The rise comes as millions are set to see energy bills fall from 1 October, when the next price cap comes into force.

From October a typical dual-fuel household will pay £1,923 a year until December, which is down from £2,074 in the previous three-month period. However, some government support, which helped with bills last winter, has been withdrawn and bills are still much higher than in 2021.

‘Not unexpected’

In its latest forecast for January, Cornwall said it expects bills to near £2,000 again.

Dr Craig Lowrey, principal consultant at the group, said that while it was disappointing to see the trend in energy bills falling over the past year “stall”, it was “not wholly unexpected”.

“While the rise is small, it shows we cannot just assume prices will continue their fall and eventually reach pre-pandemic levels,” he said.

“Policies need to be put in place to deal with the possible situation that high energy prices have become the new normal.”

The price of wholesale energy increased as Covid pandemic restrictions were eased, and then rocketed after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine last year, causing bills in turn to soar.

The energy watchdog, Ofgem, sets a maximum price that suppliers can charge customers per unit of gas and electricity.

It applies to households on variable or default tariffs in England, Wales and Scotland, but the actual amount paid by customers will vary depending on the amount of gas and electricity they use.

To shield people in England, Wales and Scotland from much higher bills last year, the government introduced a £400 discount for each household, but that scheme has now finished.

However, some groups who may struggle to pay bills are to receive additional help through cost-of-living payments.

What is the energy cap and what’s happening to bills?

Dr Lowrey said dealing with persistently high energy prices would “not be achieved by a one-size-fits-all solution”.

He said the government possessed “a toolbox of short- and medium-term options, including targeted support such as social tariffs or investment in energy efficiency”, which he argued could ease the burden on vulnerable households.

“However, it is important we understand such assistance cannot overcome the effects of a volatile international energy market on bills,” he added.

“It is only by continuing our transition away from fossil fuels, towards secure and sustainable domestic energy sources that we can reduce our exposure to such international drivers and, in turn, stabilise our energy prices.”

A coalition of 140 organisations and MPs has called onthe government to consider introducing a social tariff to help with energy bills this winter.

In an open letter to Prime Minister Rishi Sunak, the group said support would stop people having to face a choice “between heating and eating”.

The Department for Energy and Net Zero has been contacted for comment.

What can I do if I can’t afford my energy bill?

Check your direct debit: Your monthly payment is based on your estimated energy use for the year. Your supplier can reduce your bill if your actual use is less than the estimation.

Pay what you can: If you can’t meet your direct debit or quarterly payments, ask your supplier for an “able to pay plan” based on what you can afford.

Claim what you are entitled to: Check you are claiming all the benefits you can. The independent MoneyHelper website has a useful guide.

Read more here

Related Topics

Energy customer switching

Ofgem

Cost of living

Energy service companies

More on this story

What is the energy cap and what’s happening to bills?

11 hours ago

[literenture]

Yeah there’s a reason Sho finds Rui terrifying after he already nearly beheaded him & then in this basically guts him oops

Sho was in a state of frustration after he had seen the captive Santu off to bed. He found himself pacing the hallway outside of his own quarters, too restless to sleep.

The things that she had said to him reverberated in his head and brought out memories of similar words spoken by the Painter.

It was so easy for them to speak like they knew anything. They at least had those who loved them, they had lived beyond the walled garden he had been raised in. Without his grandfather, Sho had nothing. Even the Painter had eventually left him in the end. If Santu did not wish to accept his kindness, so be it. He would be cruel if that would procure results. He could not afford to disappoint his grandfather any further.

Everything about Santu threw him off. He had expected a miniature Imani, yet she could not have been more different. He had heard that she had been the vessel for a god worshiped in blood, but the atmosphere around her was completely unexpected. She must have been older than him, yet she acted like a child half her age. Despite that, she seemed to see through him, and that frightened him. He had hoped to take advantage of her apparent lack of awareness but she had denied his offer, choosing that vagabond over him.

Why? Why did everyone choose anyone but Sho? Wasn’t he supposed to be special? Didn’t he hold the title of Prophet for a reason? He was surrounded by those who revered him, and he had comrades. Yet his teacher and confidant had left him, and not even his grandfather seemed to have time for him, let alone his father. No matter how many joined the shrine, no matter how its once emptied halls filled, Sho was completely alone.

He winced as he bit too hard on his thumb, drawing blood. As droplets formed on his skin, Sho watched, transfixed. Compared to the recovering wounds on his neck and shoulder, which still hurt even now, the pain was insignificant. Still, he found himself feeling unsteady, and his chest felt tight.

His thoughts were broken by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching him. He quickly shook the cuff of his sleeve out and slowed his pacing.

To his surprise, it was Imani herself who appeared in the hallway. He felt somewhat annoyed to be seen by her right now, and he was about to complain when she spoke.

“It seems that someone’s intruded.”

Her words froze Sho in his tracks. He turned robotically, eyes frantic.

“What are you saying…”

Imani just nodded.

“They found her already? There should have been time…”

He chewed on his bruised thumb, his other hand grabbing the rim of his cap.

“We need to get her back before Grandfather arrives.”

“But you alone…”

The Prophet tilted his head in displeasure, but Imani did not back down. She saw the rage that flickered in his black eyes, the way the edges of his mouth strained, but she held her chin high, her own expression cold. For a moment it looked as though the younger boy might actually lash out at her, though her time by his grandfather’s side had well prepared Imani for any such action. However, he soon broke eye contact and cast his gaze down, frustration plain on his red face.

“I don’t have time to waste on you,” he hissed. “If you can’t do anything about it, then simply stay out of my way.”

“But your grandfather—“

“Doesn’t need to know until he returns.”

Although she was tempted to argue further, Imani did not relish the thought of letting her sister go just as they had finally found her. She did not trust the Observer to keep Santu safe. So she bit back any further protest and simply nodded.

“Bashr and Ayumi should still be nearby. I’ll send them after you as soon as I can.”

——

The wind tore through the thick branches of the heart tree, threatening to send them flying off into the night. Santu clung to Rui as they made painfully slow progress down to the trunk. Ahead of them stood the tall figure of the Huntsman, marking the path and leading them along a rope guide.

They had tens of meters to go before reaching the wing they could descend from, and for now had to traverse along one branch as wide as a highway down to the rooftops of the research facility. Although the path was wide, the wind and unsteady footing made for a treacherous journey. Santu clung close to the Observer, Sowaca keeping a careful eye on her.

It felt as though the wind would steal the very breath from her lungs. She buried her face in the scarf that Rui had wrapped around her and soldiered on. They had only a bit more to go before reaching steadier footing.

As they stepped onto the sturdy roof of the next set of buildings, Santu let out a shaky breath in relief. The trunk helped block out some of the wind and they were able to walk at a better pace.

They were nearly to their destination when the Huntsman raised an arm, stopping them. The Observer could not hide the irritation from his voice as he spoke up.

“What is it? We don’t have time to stop here.”

The red-haired woman scowled at the much shorter Observer.

“Aren’t you being a bit too lackadaisical about this?”

Santu felt Rui tense up against her as she stood with her arms wrapped around him.

“You’re the one… We’ve gotten this far, we can talk about my methods once we’ve gotten away from here. It’s only a matter of time before the local Protocol restarts.”

“That’s exactly it,” replied the Huntsman, one hand messing up her hair. “Shit, this doesn’t seem a little too convenient to you?”

The Observer glanced at Sowaca, unable to respond, and the Huntsman barked out a bitter laugh.

As if in answer to her incredulity, a fissure broke through the concrete below them. Santu was shoved away from Rui as it widened, stumbling into the arms of the Huntsman as something burst through the roof. The concrete crumbled around them as she was pulled back from the now gaping hole.

Standing in the light leaking from the hole was a short figure. Its outline was difficult to make out, writhing and twisting in the dim light. It stood in front of Rui and Sowaca on the other side of the hole from Santu and the Huntsman, who had drawn her bow.

“I’ve got this,” Rui shouted. “You protect her!”

In his hands he held the gleaming blade, Suiko, and his jaw was set in determination. The shifting figure that had attacked them settled into a coherent shape, and Santu gasped as she recognized who it was.

“Sho?”

Her surprised shout caused the figure to whip its head towards her, and she met the dark eyes glinting with gold of the young boy she had just shared dinner with hours earlier. His mouth twitched as his visage darkened.

“But Sho is, not bad,” Santu continued desperately. “Santu told him, Rui-nii is a good man, it’s okay—“

“You just won’t get it no matter how many times you’re told,” Sho snapped at her.

Rui’s eye had widened throughout the exchange, and he stole a quick glance toward Santu.

“Santu, you’ve met this… thing?”

It was the Huntsman’s turn to speak.

“Just who the fuck is this kid, Observer? It’s like my gate’s being pillaged.”

She had a pained expression on her face, and Santu saw that her hands were shaking slightly. Rui raised his knife in preparation to attack.

“Unfortunately, we happen to have the Prophet itself standing before us.”

As he spoke, he dashed forward. The tiles where he had just been standing exploded as lances of darkness pierced them. Sho—the Prophet—clicked his tongue and raised an arm. Tendrils of shadow swarmed around it and formed into a barrier as Rui’s knife came down upon him from above. As he was distracted by the attack in front of him, the Huntsman loosed an arrow. The Prophet just barely raised his other arm in time to erect another barrier, but it was no use against her. The arrow flickered out of existence and then reappeared from his blind spot. As it bore down on Sho’s throat, his eyes widened. Santu screamed as she expected the flash of blood.

However, it never came. The arrow simply melted into Sho’s body without a trace of harm. The Huntsman dropped her arms, eyes round in disbelief.

“He’s an en eater,” she muttered.

Her voice was shaky, and Santu realized that she was breathing hard. Across the gap, the Prophet laughed as he launched an attack from all sides at the trapped Observer. Sowaca leapt forward to swipe away the dark tendrils that came at them, but they were each scratched and bruised by the attack.

Santu felt like her heart would break apart. She had wanted to believe that Sho was a good person, and she knew that he wasn’t all bad. She couldn’t understand why he was doing this.

“You brought me plenty to dine on this time,” Sho said with a laugh. “As if you didn’t have enough of a handicap already.”

The Observer jumped back as the Prophet lunged at him. The two were dangerously close to the edge of the building as they skirted the hole in the roof. As Santu and the Huntsman watched on, Rui waved frantically towards them.

“Get out of here already,” he shouted. “I'll deal with him.”

Before anyone could react, Rui flung himself at the figure before him. They each made a strangled shout of surprise as the Observer knocked himself and the Prophet off of the rooftop. Sowaca leapt after them without hesitation as Sho let out a startled scream. The three of them fell down into the darkness as Santu was grabbed away by the Huntsman.

——-

Falling through the air, Rui could not tell which way was up and which was down. Stars seemed to stretch out above and below, the only sound the air rushing by his ears and a scream from the figure in his arms. He had acted without thinking, determined only to distance this thing as far from Santu as possible. He wouldn’t forget the danger posed by the one they called the Prophet.

Just before impact, he was forced away from the boy he fell with by an outward pressure. It dulled his velocity enough that Rui avoided becoming a stain on the pavement, but he still broke through the roof of the building he impacted.

He coughed weakly as dust rose up around him. Sowaca was soon beside him, urging him to his feet.

“He’s still out there, kid.”

“Ahh, it just couldn’t have been that easy, huh.”

As he staggered up, he heard footsteps from above him and winced. He turned just as they stopped above his head and brought his knife up against the barrage of black blades that tore down upon him. Suiko easily deflected the mass, tearing through any remaining as Rui surged towards their source. He burst through the roof to the startled gaze of the Prophet. The boy had lost his hat somewhere during the fall, but aside from the dust on his uniform he looked none the worse for wear.

“Shouldn’t that have been at least a little more effective!?”

Rui couldn’t hide his shock and disappointment, and the Prophet looked as though he thought he were mocking him.

“You just can’t get by without your nasty tricks, can you?” the boy asked bitterly.

“I’m not the one going around kidnapping people, y’know?”

His comment only made the Prophet visibly angry, and Rui sighed. He lifted his knife with a wry grin.

At the very least, now the other boy would be unable to draw from the Huntsman’s gate. He was strongest surrounded by powerful opponents, so one on one was always preferable. Sowaca raised his hackles as he circled nearer, but Rui shook his head sharply. In his condition, it would be too risky for Sowaca to engage with the Prophet.

“Get small and hide.”

“What are you saying—“

“Sowaca. Please.”

His voice was so strained it was on the verge of breaking. Sowaca hesitated a moment longer before nodding and in a flurry of shadow he transformed back into his diminutive form. He sprang back and dashed off just as an arm of darkness plunged toward him. Rui turned his attention back to the Prophet before him.

The boy’s face was twisted in rage, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light. Before he could send another mass of shadow towards him, Rui leapt forward, knife at the ready. He sliced down at the Prophet’s outstretched arm, aiming to bisect it from the shoulder, but he was stopped by a thick shield of shadow. He cursed and used it as a platform to leap back just as a lance pierced the space he’d just been in.

His close and long ranged combat ability was too high. The last time that Rui had fought him, he’d had the element of surprise and been in better condition. Now it felt like the Prophet had increased his own abilities, much to Rui’s chagrin. He had only one choice, even if it was risky with his compromised gate.

He reached behind his shoulder and drew forth his shamisen from between space. He sheathed Suiko as he took up the pick in his other hand.

The Prophet’s face contorted, and he raised his arms warily. Rui smirked.

“Oh right, you never got to see me use her, huh. Well this is your lucky day!”

He brought the pick down on the three strings, a mournful note resounding through the rubble strewn warehouse. The shadows around the Prophet’s feet bubbled restlessly, but before he could react a force slammed into him from the side, knocking him across the room. His small body impacted a degraded machine with force, even as he wrapped himself in a cocoon.

Rui gave him no time to react. He strummed out the next few notes mercilessly. Even with the most basic of songs, the damage his shamisen was capable of was immense. The Prophet barely had any time to react as he was tossed to and fro. Even with his cocoon of shadows, he was soon spitting up blood as he struggled to rise to his knees. His shadow writhed as though in pain, tendrils spreading haphazardly all across the warehouse.

His counterattacks were useless in the face of Rui’s shamisen, and his shadows were sent ricocheting off into the darkness. As he struggled to his feet, Rui sent the Prophet flying across the vast room.

He paused to catch his breath, eye locked on the dust around where the boy had impacted. He waited as sweat dripped down his chin, hand at the ready.

“That thing really is no good, huh.”

A voice sounded from behind him, and the Observer saw that there was nobody within the dust. He bit back a curse.

“I guess if I eat this, it won’t really matter, will it?”

Rui froze, hand hovering above his shamisen’s strings, feeling a cold hand grip the pit of his stomach. He turned his head and his mouth went dry.

The Prophet stood, bloody but grinning, holding in his hands the limp form of a black cat. His shadow writhed about his feet with anticipation, multiple mouths opening their wicked maws in the ground.

The Observer’s eyes widened and he reached his hand out, time freezing before him. He willed his legs to move, if he just took one more step, if he just reached a bit further.

“It’s my win, Observer.”

Before he could complete even a single step, the Prophet swallowed Sowaca in shadow.

The moment that the cat vanished into the maw, something inside of the Observer snapped. His gate felt like it would devour him whole, and his right eye burned in its socket. The very blood in his veins felt like it was on fire, and he gasped as he fell to his knees, his shamisen vanishing from his hands.

Memories tore through his mind unbidden, hundreds of years together suddenly disappeared. He grasped at his chest in agony as his brain shuddered from the sense of loss.

“Hmm. That wasn’t as hard as everyone made it out to be.”

A callous voice cut through the din inside the Observer’s head, followed by steady footsteps. Unable to even lift his head, Rui clawed at his eyepatch, tearing it away, but the pain only worsened. His eye pulsated and twitched, tendrils sprouting out from the iris in haphazard motions. A foot was placed roughly on his head, pressing his face into the rubble.

“You were never anything special after all,” the Prophet continued in a low voice. “And yet you dared cause Grandfather such trouble. Do you even know what I…”

But the Observer wasn’t listening. He bit down hard on his inner cheek, the taste of blood filling his mouth. Disembodied words echoed within his head.

How long are you gonna sit around crying for, kid?

It’s you and me against the world.

No matter what, I’ll

Always be there.

Rui’s world turned red.

He did not know how long he had been out, but when he came to he was sat over the unconscious form of the Prophet. His knife was in one hand, covered in blood, and after a moment he cried out and stumbled back.

The boy’s stomach was cut open, stab wounds covering every inch of his exposed abdomen.

“Ah.”

What had shocked him back to awareness was the pain in his own abdomen, and Rui saw that he had narrowly avoided being skewered through by the familiar form of Varuna, receiving a minor slash. Before him stood the helmeted knight, and the Observer quickly stepped out of range. The man did not pursue him, instead kneeling before the bloody figure of the Prophet.

He was not in the same full armor as the last time they had met with one another, but the helmet was unmistakable.

Rui’s mind raced as he tried and failed to get his thoughts working again.

——

Bashr had been awoken by an out of breath Imani not long after he had fallen asleep. Her usual unflappable attitude was gone, and while one could not call her frantic outright, she was undoubtedly worked up.

It soon became apparent as to why.

Bashr arrived at the half-destroyed warehouse to find his worst fears embodied.

On the cracked cement floor, the Prophet lay sprawled with arms and legs askew. He was pinned down by the Observer, still stabbing that wicked knife he carried into the boy’s stomach. He did not even notice as the large Bashr approached the horrific scene, so focused was he on destroying the one before him.

Wasting no time, the knight launched forward with Varuna, fully intending on ending it there. However, the Observer’s reflexes were like the devil’s himself, and he jumped away just in time. He made quick distance between the two of them. Bashr froze, knowing that he would be expected to pursue the quarry before him, but his eyes wandered to the unconscious figure beside him.

Sho’s chest was rising and falling with great effort, and even with his healing factor it would be difficult for him to pull through from such wounds. Even if he acted now, the boy might die anyway, but Bashr could not simply abandon him. It would have been better for the Founder had Ayumi been the one sent after the Observer, but Bashr was grateful that had not been the case.

Keeping one wary eye on the ragged Observer, he knelt beside Sho. The wounds were deep, and as Bashr pressed a hand he felt just how many there were. Something that was not quite rage flashed through his eyes, and he raised his voice toward the Observer.

“If you run now I will not pursue. I suggest you do so.”

Disbelief flashed across the other man’s face, but it was obvious that he was in no state to fight. With one last hate filled glance cast towards the Prophet, the Observer turned and vanished into the night.

Bashr returned his attention to Sho, tearing off part of his Lotus Eaters uniform and wrapping it around the boy’s abdomen. It would do little to help but keep everything together, and he quickly picked him up and made his way to the nearest lift. There was no time to waste.

Bashr could not say that he was close to Sho, but he felt a fondness and protectiveness for the boy. Even if he was incapable of the broad range of normal emotion, Bashr knew that the Prophet was an earnest child despite the way he acted. He thought his being a part of their ranks something pitiable, and he found himself looking after Sho whenever he had the chance. There was not much he was capable of doing, but now at least Bashr could choose Sho’s well-being over any broader mission objective.

The Prophet was painfully light in his arms, made only lighter by the loss of blood. He barely stirred as they went, head lolling limply. One of his hands gripped weakly at the front of Bashr’s shirt, fingers slick with blood, and his breathing was irregular. Still, it was obvious that he was fighting to survive with all of his strength. It was fortuitous that they were only a short distance from the medical centers of Power Plant No 1; as long as Sho did not give up before then, he would be in the care of the best medical minds Daikokuten had to offer. Bashr just had to hope that he would hold out until then.

Rui made his way through the network of warehouses and down into the subterranean maze sprawled along the roots of the heart tree, panting in exertion. His mind was ablaze, and he couldn’t think straight. All he knew was that if the knight’s partner was not here then she’d be after the others. He had no time to waste.

Thankfully, he knew where they would be headed. He could only hope that the Huntsman would be able to handle the Lotus Eater who held a matching set to his Suiko—knives of the Chimimouryou line. With the Prophet out of the way, Rui doubted even those would be able to harm the sturdy Huntsman. He was far more concerned with Santu.

A sharp pain ran through his skull, and he winced as he ran. His right eye had not ceased its frenetic activity, sprouting arms and vines that twisted rapidly. His vision was a mess as his eye became unable to focus, shifting between planes and frequencies in a nauseating sequence. Rui was forced to put his entire being into getting to his destination, unable to lapse in attention for even a moment lest he lose his way.

At the very least, it provided an escape from the reality of the situation, and the sense of loss that burned throughout his body.

So time passed in a senseless blur, focused entirely on getting each foot in front of the other and one breath in after another. By the time he stumbled upon the rendezvous point deep within the sewer system that ran in a maze among the tree’s roots, his body was alternating hot and cold in rapid succession.

When he did not see Santu or the Huntsman there, he nearly fell to the ground in defeat. If after all that they had not even managed to succeed in their mission Rui wasn’t sure if he would know what to do. He opened his mouth and let out a strangled laugh, delirium threatening his jumbled consciousness.

“Rui-nii?”

A small, scared voice shook him from the edge he had tottered on, and the Observer turned. He could just make out the shifting outlines of Santu and the Huntsman, but the immortal’s gate outshone the young girl and made it difficult for him to distinguish the two.

“Gods, what happened to you?” the Huntsman asked.

But Santu interrupted the woman before she could ask more. In a frightened tone, she stammered out a question.

“What happened…to Sowacchi, and Sho?”

There was pure terror in her voice, although he couldn’t make out her expression. Rui placed a bloodstained hand over his eye and squinted until his vision came into focus.

Santu’s face was twisted into wide eyed horror, and she stood half behind the Huntsman with her hands gripping her sleeve. He saw now that they were trembling, and even the red headed woman had a grim look on her face.

Confused by their reactions, he stepped forward.

“We can talk about that later, for now we need to get out of here.”

He reached one hand out toward her.

“C’mon, Santu.”

But before he could get close, she shuddered and stepped back. The Observer was speechless and he stood opening and closing his mouth soundlessly. He glanced toward the Huntsman, but she wore a look of revulsion on her face.

“That, that’s not your blood, is it? Shit, that kid…”

“Hah?”

Rui could not keep the scorn from his voice as he snapped his face up towards her.

“It’s not like you didn’t try to kill him too? In fact, since when do you have a problem killing abominations? In self defense no less? Ah? Are you going to lecture me after what that monster did to Sowaca?”

The Huntsman frowned and brought one hand to her mouth.

“Calm down, Observer, and just wait a—“

Rui felt something snap inside him like a thread, and he tossed his hand away from his face in a sharp motion. His loud voice echoed in the empty drain.

“You ask me to calm down after he took my partner from me? And you dare question how I dealt with it?”

He stepped forward with one shaky hand on the hilt of his knife.

“You probably find this situation one to rejoice in, is that it?” he snarled. “Answer me, Huntsman!”

“Ru—hk!”

Santu let out a startled cry, freezing the Observer in his tracks. As he stood there, the Huntsman mumbled out a response.

“If you’d just let me talk… It’s just, you were grinning. Covered in blood like that, anyone would be unsettled.”

Rui let out his breath in a sudden sigh, shoulders falling. He realized then just how he must have appeared, although he hadn’t known he had had a smile on his face. He shuddered at the thought as a flash of himself plunging his knife into the Prophet again and again shot through his mind. Before he could do anything else, his stomach lurched and he lost all strength in his legs as he stumbled to his knees retching. He clutched his shoulders and shook violently as the feeling of stabbing the boy reverberated through his hands. Rui felt like molten lead coursed through his veins.

For all his earlier bravado, even he knew he had gone too far. Killing was not something he took lightly even for aberrations, and monstrous though he may be, the Prophet was a human boy. If Sowaca had been around to witness it, surely even he would have been disgusted at Rui’s act of mindless rage. He had not simply killed him, but done so horrifically. Of course Santu would look at him with those eyes.

Sho’s sleep was restless. It felt like he had been unconscious for countless years, and memories of events he had never witnessed plagued his dreams.

He saw a magnificent shrine with red-painted beams and overflowing with white-robes priests. He saw a girl whose face he could not discern, black hair waving in the wind as she hid dark purple bruises on her pale arm. He saw countless nights of solitude with only the company of a small, black cat by his side.

The pain was what drew him back to himself from the scattered nightmares. He gasped as he opened his eyes, unable to move more than his head. His vision swam as he tried to recall where he was and what had happened.

He was sure that he had defeated the Observer. So then had they also recovered Santu? His head throbbed with half remembered events and dreams bleeding together. Had he pushed his body too far? But he had consumed the god Sowaca, so it shouldn’t have drained him this much. He struggled to move his arms and felt a sharp pain throughout his body.

“Do not perform any useless actions. It is lucky that you did not lose your life, even with what you accomplished.”

Sho’s eyes snapped to his side, where his grandfather was seated. His face was stern and frowning, and a cold sweat immediately came over Sho.

“I, the Observer, is..?”

The Founder closed his eyes and sighed, visibly disappointed.

“Bashr prioritized you over stopping him, a wise decision, as painful as it is to let your efforts go to waste. However, if my eyes do not deceive me, it seems you deserve some commendation despite acting so recklessly.”

His gold-lined eyes snapped open and fixed upon Sho.

“You did well to take in the Observer’s bound god. It should make our future efforts that much easier.”

Despite the pain, Sho struggled up to his elbows.

“Then, Santu?”

His grandfather shook his head.

“For now, she has eluded us. Perhaps if you had waited for Ayumi and Bashr, they could have stood together.”

His words sent a chill down Sho’s spine, and he fell back to the bed in a cold sweat. The Founder was heedless of his shame as he continued.

“If you hadn’t managed to capture that god, you would be dead right now, all because you decided to act in spite of Imani’s warning. Can you tell me what possessed you to act on your own in such a manner?”

Sho bit his lower lip and closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them again his grandfather was still looking at him with disappointment. He let out a shaky breath.

“I just thought that if I didn’t go, they might escape… I didn’t want to let that happen.”

“Yet by acting without thought, that’s exactly what did happen.”

The Founder raised his hands and sighed sharply.

“Sho, you acted in total disregard for your own safety, and that had grave consequences. You must understand how I would feel, were you to lose your life.”

His words were harsh, but they brought warmth to Sho’s heart. It meant that he cared. He lowered his eyes and nodded stiffly.

“Yes, Grandfather,” he said. “I understand, it was foolish of me to act on my own.”

The Founder considered him, his eyes of deep coal lined by bright gold staring out from what was once the face of Sho’s aunt. They were cold and distant as black holes, but they were a source of comfort and awe for the boy. After a moment he nodded curtly.

“If you understand, then all is well. Focus on recovering your strength.”

He turned to leave without another word when he was stopped suddenly by one of Sho’s hands gripping his sleeve. The Prophet gasped and released the hem as he realized what he had done. His ears burned in embarrassment at his childish act as the Founder gazed down coolly at him.

“Will that be all?”

Sho could only nod weakly.

“Yes, Grandfather.”

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart - Chapter 1

You’re a painter by trade, but an unexpected splash of color crashes into your life in the form of a handsome stranger. Something tells you he’s no ordinary work of art…

Everybody Lives AU | Pre-Act I | Silco x Reader | Female!Reader | Slow Burn | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Mild Angst || SFW | WC: 2.07k

ao3 || Masterlist

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Zaun is a beautiful canvas.

Not many would agree with you, but you’ve always been able to sense it. Whether it’s literal graffiti in crumbling stone alleyways beautiful enough to rival anything in a Piltie art gallery, or a stubborn dandelion piercing through concrete and thriving against all odds in the chem-choked atmosphere. 

You wish more people could see it the way you do.

It’s always been your calling to bring color to the Undercity, and you’re one of the lucky few Zaunites who got to turn it into a respectable profession. Now, you’re working on your biggest piece ever, literally: a mural on a large, gray brick building high enough on the Promenade to bask in the sunlight, but still visible to anyone in the Entresol who could be bothered to look up.

Being outdoors makes for a refreshing change from your usual gigs in stuffy Topside mansions, painting portraits of families who smell too clean and take themselves too seriously. They always insisted on making the most boring small talk, demanding your attention and drawing your focus away from your canvas. All your clients have too much money, but they can never seem to afford the patience to pose in silence. 

No, it’s better to be alone when working. All you have for company is your supplies, a small gramophone, your sketchbook, and your satchel. No one could hope to interrupt you on your scissor lift high above the ground.

It surprises you, then, when the sound of running footsteps below pulls you away from the wall. You peek down at a thin, dark-haired man sprinting for his life. 

Passers-by aren’t uncommon here, but most prefer to stroll silently as to not draw attention to themselves. So it’s mildly intriguing that this man has chosen speed over stealth. 

He disappears into a gap between two buildings and into the shadows.

His pursuers make themselves known: a pair of Piltover Enforcers, navigating the urban landscape with much more clumsiness and caution than their prey. 

“He can’t have gone far! Damn gutter rat…” 

They crawl over debris and litter, making their way towards you. You hold your breath until they’re directly underneath you, and then—

SPLAT!!

The paint cans you kicked over land a direct hit on both Enforcers, drenching them in white and pink. They curse and whip out their batons. 

You press a button to collapse the scissor lift, a melodramatic expression of remorse on your face.

“I’m soooo sorry, officers! It was an accident, I didn’t see you there—”

“Damn, woman! What the hell—”

“I’m sorry, if you want to be reimbursed for your uniforms just let Councilor Salo know and he’ll cover the costs.”

The namedrop makes them pause. You hand over your business card and a golden engraved crest. One Enforcer takes them, examining the crest in particular: it’s a pure gold, extravagantly carved letter “S” set in a delicate filigree of a leafy bush laden with berries. Given only to contractors who report directly to the councilor himself. 

“It’s genuine,” he mutters to his partner and hands it back to you. The business card stays in his hand. He clears his throat and addresses you with a calmer, more formal manner. “And it’s not a problem, ma'am. We won’t bother the councilor with something so trivial. Have you seen a—”

You gasp exaggeratedly. “Your uniforms! You need to wash them right away! Or else they’ll stain permanently!”

The Enforcers glance at each other impatiently. “It’s fine. We’re looking for a—”

“And your skin! Did you get any on you?? It’ll stain you too!”

That gets their attention. One of them starts scooting away, eager to leave. You push the other with all your might.

“Scrub your bodies with tomato juice and then soak in onion peels! That’ll get it all out! But hurry!!”

One Enforcer stumbles over himself, and they both finally break out into a run. Out of Zaun and back to where they belong. You snicker to yourself and toss the crest in the air, catching it on the way down. 

You catch a glimpse of something twinkling in the shadows. It’s a pair of eyes— are they green? or blue? 

They disappear just as quickly as you spotted them.

Well, as interruptions go that was one of the more entertaining ones you’ve experienced lately. You ascend on the scissor lift and get back to painting.

The next day is business as usual, for the most part. Painting the wall is going smoothly. Out of nowhere, you suddenly feel prickly and uncomfortable— it’s an Undercity instinct, a warning that someone you can’t see is watching you. 

The discomfort is the worst at the top of your head… so they’re looking down at you, like a bird of prey before it swoops. 

You take a deep breath to settle your nerves. Then, you press a button that extends the scissor lift to its fullest height. 

It brings you level with a frowning man on the roof, his arms crossed. He’s tall, sharp, and lean, with lanky black hair that drapes over his narrowed eyes. They’re neither green nor blue, but a teal that’s a perfect inbetween. 

It’s such a beautiful color… you’re itching to replicate it by blending your paints. 

“You know it’s dangerous to get involved with a stranger’s affairs,” he intones. His voice is low and smoky, with a hint of gravel. He scrutinizes you under furrowed brows.

“Just wanted to help a fellow ‘gutter rat’, that’s all,” you reply, shrugging.

His eyes tick open wider in surprise. He scans you up and down.

You hold back a sigh. Early in your career, you mastered the art of code-switching between the two disparate cultures of Topside and the Undercity. It’s a necessity for anyone who lives in Zaun but works in Piltover: if you’re not presentable enough in both manners and wardrobe for your Piltie clients, they’ll dismiss you out of hand; but if you wear your nice Topside garb in the Undercity, you’re practically screaming to cutpurses that you’re a wealthy mark. 

While you couldn’t care less what most Topsiders think, it always hurts a little when one of your own doesn't recognize you.  

Anyone could see that this man is the archetypal Zaunite: his clothes are thin and well-worn, but the leather straps and shoulder pad are in good condition, and the brass trappings are highly polished. It’s typical Undercity fashion, where cheap clothes have to be preserved as long as possible so as to not waste money on unnecessary replacements.

He’s more handsome than most men you know, though, with high cheekbones and a long shapely nose. His wiry form speaks to a man who prefers speed over brute strength, and— 

“Now that’s not an attitude you encounter every day in the Undercity,” he muses, interrupting your thoughts. You must have passed whatever silent inspection he was conducting with his eyes, although he still regards you with wariness. 

“What can I say? If I see an Enforcer, I just wanna mess with them, you know?” You grin at him. 

“That, I do understand all too well,” the thin line of his lips quirks upward before settling into a straight line of neutrality. 

He wields his stony demeanor like armor, but there’s something curious about the fact that he allowed you to approach him at all… it makes you want to get past his defenses, for some reason. 

Even if it's only to satisfy the intrigue of getting to know a good-looking stranger. 

“You’re welcome for yesterday, by the way,” you joke. “For saving your skin from the Enforcers. It looks like I saved you from a trip to Stillwater.”

His impassive facade cracks. He bares his teeth, bristling. “I did not need your help. I was perfectly capable of—”

“They were pretty close to catching you,” you raise your hands and make a grabbing gesture. “Good thing you’re so skinny. They can’t arrest you if you’re just literally going to slip out of their fingers.” 

That gets him to step close to tower over you, glowering. Shit, he’s tall. 

“What I lack in musculature, you seem to lack in intelligence. What on earth makes you think it would be a good idea to antagonize someone wanted by Enforcers?”

“Ooooh, the Enforcers want to lock up little ol’ you. You’re such a big baddie,” you tease. “If they had it their way, they’d have every single one of us locked up. You’re not special.”

He leans forward, curling his hands over the ledge of the roof. He lowers himself closer to you and sneers. “Perhaps I’ve done something especially terrible to warrant particular attention from Topside.” 

“Let me guess,” you purse your lips as you examine him. “You pickpocketed some Topside nobles?”

He smiles slyly. “Worse than that.”

“Kidnapping a pet Poro?”

“You’re getting closer.”

You shake your head in bemusement. “What was it?”

“Seducing a Piltie noblewoman,” a mischievous glint shines in his eyes. “I all but rescued her from a cold, loveless marriage. Unfortunately, her husband didn't seem to appreciate that.”

“Really?” You laugh again, more out of surprise than humor this time. 

“No,” he chuckles. “Just breaking and entering.”

The conversation seems to be going well. You got him to admit something personal about himself, even if it was on accident. Excitement fills you at the thought of getting to know him better.  

“You better be careful, mister. Maybe I’ll turn you into the Enforcers now that I got a good look at your pretty face.”

Shit you hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud.

He raises his eyebrows at your slip-up. He steps back and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “Surely you wouldn’t have this ‘pretty face’ thrown into Stillwater, would you? There’s quite a dearth of us in the Undercity.”

Wow… when you fully see his face, “pretty” is a big understatement. 

“Are you kidding? Pretty faces are a dime a dozen,” you smirk. “And I'd probably get a big reward for turning you in to Councilor Salo—”

At the sound of the councilor’s name, his eyes widen in fear. It’s like your words set him on fire with how fast he dashes away from you. The sounds of him running on pipes and rooftops echo in the distance.

You smack your head against the ledge and groan. You pushed him too far and almost got him to break the cardinal rules of living in Zaun: don’t trust strangers, and especially don’t trust strangers who work for the Council. 

Damn you and your big mouth… 

________________________________________

One reason why your worksite is prime real estate is that despite its proximity to the underground, it’s free from the omnipresent chem-smog. Any smells that don’t belong are carried far and wide in the fresh, untainted air. 

When you arrive at the wall, you're greeted by the scent of cheap cigarette smoke. There’s no one on the ground, so you look up to confirm: on the roof is the man from yesterday, smoking. He’s all sharp angles even as he slouches with one arm on the ledge.

A warm feeling of relief blooms in your chest. Thank Janna you didn’t scare him off.

Your unexpected eagerness to talk to him makes you clumsy. All your supplies tumble out of your hands onto the scissor lift. You clamber onto it and trip, almost crashing into the 'ascend' button.

His eyes track your progress upwards, and you’re suddenly struck by the urge to fiddle with your paints. 

When you’re finally level with him, you eye him shyly. “You came back.”

He doesn’t respond, looking down his nose at you. Finally, he drops his cigarette and grinds it underneath his boot. 

“I seem to owe you my gratitude, again, for not taking the opportunity to send Enforcers to hunt me down,” his smile this time is somewhat guarded. It touches his lips but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Don’t want to make their jobs easier for them,” you reply with a small grin. 

“Why, thank you so much for thinking of me,” he says with a light sarcasm. The ends of his lips twitch upwards. “I would hate to be taken away before having the privilege of knowing your name.” 

You give it to him. He extends his hand out for you to shake. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Silco.”

Chapter 2

[singguks]

my dearest, ii | taehyung

synopsis. on a fine summer, a young woman goes to the small town of long grove to spend some time with her family. meeting taehyung was as unexpected as facing their differences. still, over the course of one passionate and carefree summer spent by the big bear lake, the two grow to find what love really is, or what he always knew—they were meant to be.

pairing. taehyung x oc

genre. 1940 au ㆍ drama ㆍ fluff ㆍ eventual smut

word count. 3817

warnings. romantic tae but also longing tae  ㅠㅡㅠ

rating. PG-13

a/n. to celebrate @taespocket day ♡ much like this chapter, i realized one comes into life alone, and also goes out of it that way... but if it's my choice, i chose to spend the middle of it all by your side. thank you for filling my heart with wonderful worlds and everlasting sparks!!

chapters.  1 — 2 — 3

CHAPTER TWO — LIKE A RIVER FLOWS, SURELY TO THE SEA

       Narrator's point of view.

It had been easy for her to fall in love with Taehyung. 

Starting by the way he approached her on the street, a few days later from the nightly barbecue, with a jazzy walk and a grin on his lips. He had promptly shown her two tickets for the debut movie Let George Do It! that had cost him a day of work to buy. He had hidden the fact very well with his lazy smile and carefree stance, jokingly insisting for her to attend the theater with him on that Friday evening. 

“Sure! I’d love to” she had answered, doing her best to feign neutrality. Deo wasn’t an expert when it came to men, the only previous experience she had was due to school dances or the soda shops she loved so much. But even if she would mostly dance with her girlfriends, she knew she had to seem a little disinterested in whatever a boy suggested. 

Contrary to her, Taehyung opened the biggest smile as soon as her answer fell from her lips. It was funny how he rejected everything society had made her learn, and that perhaps was what made it so easy to fall for him. 

“Alright! I guess I’ll see you tonight then” he said looking deep inside her eyes. “Seven sharp.” 

When he walked away, turning back to steal her a last glance and then mimicking a seven with his hands — which made her bite a smile and nod agreeable — she was certain he had not sensed how euphoric she had been inside. 

Or how she went home walking above the clouds. 

She looked at herself in the small mirror hung inside Hyori’s wardrobe door. Two dresses in hand and indecisiveness to her glance. Her cousin, who had been watching her from her bed, had let slip some information that made Deo look back at that moment with Taehyung with a fuzzy heart. 

“He must really like you,” was what escaped Hyori’s lips that bit down a smile. And when Deo asked why, overly curious but again posing as a bit indifferent to the subject, the answer she received made both dresses seem to lose their initial spark. 

To her, a city girl, going to the movies was as common as going grocery shopping. Her father was well enough in life to give her the freedom of buying whatever she needed without paying much mind. Never once in her life, she has had to dwell much about a purchase, whatever it was. And the big city had its perks too — there was never a dull moment, as each and every month something new opened in town. 

But as her cousin started talking about her dating life, she realized how different their realities were. She learned that in Long Grove, the only attraction in town was usually the theater or the annual fair, besides that, there wasn’t anything else to do. At least not anything that costs money. When Hyori confessed to only going to the movies with Namjoon twice ever since they started dating, Deo’s stomach was filled with butterflies and she hurriedly tried to look for something fancier to wear inside her belongings. 

“Not that he can’t afford to take me once in a while, but I always say no, so we can save some money…” the dark-haired girl confessed, “And it got even more romantic now. Only getting to go on special occasions!” 

That night, when the clock marked six thirty, she took a last glance at herself in the mirror, twirling the skirt of her dress to see how she looked from all angles. She applied another coat of her soft lipstick making her lips look plumper, and then passed by the living room where her parents and uncles were, to wave a shy goodbye. She avoided her mom’s inquisitive stare, knowing that if their eyes were to meet she would know for a fact that her daughter wasn’t going out with a girlfriend but with a boy. And God forbid if her mom caught her lying. 

Hyori accompanied her to the theater or claimed to have done so. A block away from the agreed place, the jet-black-haired girl left Deo, locking arms with Namjoon instead. He had been anxiously waiting for her so they could spend some deserving time alone. 

On the way to the theater, Deo caught a glance of her reflection through a window, taking the opportunity to check one last time how she looked and to fix her hair — which was sporting big curly waves tonight. In the back of her mind, the thought of having gone overboard with her silky — yet flowy — blue button-up dress crossed her mind. It’s best to go overdressed than underdressed, she decided. 

And then it was seven o’clock. Taehyung had been punctually waiting for her right by the front doors of the establishment. He was wearing grey tailored pants — a big baggy — a white dress-up shirt, and a brownish flat cap that matched his shoes. A style not so different from when she first met him, but she could tell he had paid attention to looking more formal than usual, starting with his hair brushed back. 

“Hi,” he said, taking a few steps to meet her halfway, and then offering her his arm.

“Hi,” she answered holding it gladly with a cheeky smile. “A gentleman… I see.”

Taehyung showed her a playful grin. “As all men should be… At least almost always.” Deo unconsciously held his arm tighter, her breathing faltering for brief moments. 

“But the entrance is that… way,” she started confused when Taehyung led her in the opposite direction.

“Oh yeah, I just thought maybe you’d like something to snack on?” the boy by her side pointed to a stand across the street with his head, “But we can go inside if you don’t want anything.” he stopped mid-track waiting for her answer. 

She eyed the lit-up stand across the street pensively. There were too many options there, and suddenly the strawberry blonde girl didn’t know what to do. 

“Why don’t we buy a box of Mike and Ike?” Taehyung suggested amused, “You know, just to try.” 

The girl squeezed his arm tight once more, opening a radiant smile, “I was just thinking the same!” and Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh. He knew that was not what she was thinking, he had noticed how her eyes scanned the stand hesitantly, going back and forward. But he found the act cute, so he pretended to believe while he looked at her with fondness nodding his head. 

The butterflies on her stomach accompanied her throughout the entirety of the night, fluttering their wings harder whenever Taehyung did something or came closer. Like when he leaned to her side as he laughed at something the actors said in the movie. Or when he suddenly whispered in her ear “I hesitated to say it earlier but you’re definitely the most beautiful girl ever stepping foot in this theater”. 

Deo felt blood flushing to her cheeks, and mentally thanked the fact she was in a dark theater room, where he could not see the redness on her face. She remembered her cousin saying she had never seen him with anyone else, but all his moves seemed confident and of a person with expertise. Still, she had to admit, whatever he was doing, was working.

“And why would you hesitate?” she caught herself asking close to his ear. 

A brighter scene of the movie flashed before them, making his expressions visible to her eyes. He showed her a boxy smile before coming closer again to whisper a cheeky confession. One that made her heart race. 

“Because I was nervous as soon as I laid eyes on you.” 

Deo kept her eyes trailed to the screen, unable to formulate a response. 

Truth be told, if she were to recall that specific moment, she didn’t pay much attention to the scenes unfolding before them. The only thing on her mind was how easily the boy sitting by her side made it to fall in love with him. 

She caught herself being more and more eager to listen to whatever he had to say. And he had cheerfully rambled on and on about how the jokes played out in the movie were so cleverly made. From the moment they passed through the theater doors while joyful laughter served as background noise to their conversation, and stepped foot on the sidewalk, Taehyung had already convinced her that dancing in the middle of a now desert road was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Deo couldn’t understand why it was so easy to give in to his requests. Even if she found most of them crazy or a little bit childish. For certain they didn’t fit the mold she was raised in. 

Even so, she found herself going to the middle of the road, her hand being embraced softly by his. 

First, they walked, side by side, while she glanced back every now and then searching for a vehicle that could run them over. Taehyung bit down a smile every time she did so. 

“So… Why did your family move away?” he asked, hands in his pockets, trying to take her mind off the danger she so eagerly held herself to. 

She snapped her head back to look at him. “Actually my aunt, Hyo’s mom, was who moved out from the city… To follow her husband that is.” 

“Oh,” he nodded contemplative, eyebrows furrowed and she felt the need to press her thumb down on them, to ease it. “And what is that your family do in the big city?” 

“You mean my dad’s job?” she asked, clasping her hands behind her back and forgetting completely that they were in the middle of a road. As Taehyung confirmed, she looked ahead with a sigh, “He’s the owner of the Scenery Gazette.” 

She glanced back at him to see his reaction. Every time she mentioned it to people, what followed was always the same — eyes full of sparks and cascades of questions about famous people and whatnot. People only cared for the status she held, or gossip she may have about the Hollywood faces. 

But the chocolate brown eyes of the boy beside her didn’t seem inquisitive or hungry for juicy tea. Instead, they gave her space to continue. Seemingly more interested in what she had to confide in him than in what she falsely had to say. 

“My parents want me to take over the business in the long run, instead of my older brother…” she admitted for the first time. Her shoulders dropped defeatedly. “Well, not me, but my future husband.” she chuckled but her eyes held nothing but sadness behind them. Perhaps even lack of hope. 

Taehyung thought of everything he could ask, or say. ‘Why wouldn’t they want your brother to run it?’ but on second thought, even if that was an important subject, the path of their talk would lead to another person than the girl kicking a little pebble with her shiny heels, looking rather discouraged. So he chose to take the lighter approach instead. Like his grandpa used to do with him when he was little and carried a heavy heart. 

“And you don’t seem so excited about that… Right?” He asked, offering a comprehensive smile. 

Deo nodded, “Would you?” she glanced at him, wondering if that boy walking quietly by her side would want to take over her family business. Maybe if he did so, it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Taehyung stopped walking and she did too, unconsciously. His eyes stared deeply inside hers, shifting from one to the other, with a calmness she had never known. “No”, he said. “I don’t think I would get excited about it.”

Something tugged at her heart. She looked down and nodded. “I didn’t think you would.” 

“I’m sure it’s a fantastical job, really. Like every and each is. But it’s just that I already have dreams of my own.” he offered her a rogue smile, his eyes just as calm and soft as the light breeze that grazed her locks. 

She looked up again. “Oh… Really?”

He looked from one side to another for the first time, but not for the same reasons she had previously done it. He wasn’t looking for cars, but for people. And like he was about to tell her a secret, he bent down. “I’m a painter.” 

“Painter?” she searched for his eyes, “What kind?” 

“Hopefully, one of the good ones.” 

She laughed. “Well, mister painter, I’d like to see one of your works one of these days”, she said. 

“My grandpa has some clients that come from the big city just for his jams, and some of them usually buy some pieces… I still don’t earn much with them, to be honest. But I’m trying to make a name for myself, and follow my dreams- That’s something, right? And I have a batch I’m working on. Maybe, if you want, you could stop by to see them sometime?” 

Deo’s eyes were filled with magic as she heard him speak. The thought of being brave enough to follow her dreams warmed her racing heart. She smiled, not being able to take her eyes from him anymore. “I’d love to.” 

He took the little box of Mike and Ike they weren’t able to finish inside the theater out of his pocket. He was about to offer her some when he stopped on the way. “Close your eyes.” 

She blinked at him confused and he chuckled. 

“Close them for brief seconds” and she did as he asked. “Alright, now. What flavor do you think you’re going to get?” 

She opened her eyes again, “What game is this?” and as he laughed at her uneasiness, he closed her eyes with the palm of his hand. She couldn’t help but notice how his long fingers engulfed her features as if she was nothing but a doll compared to his size. 

“What flavor?” he asked again.

“Hmm… I don’t know… Cherry?” she asked confused as to what he was doing. He shook the little box filled with candies by her ear making her hit him playfully. 

“Don’t open your eyes,” he said taking his hand off of them. It took a brief moment before he spoke again, and she could tell he was taking a piece of candy out of it. “Ok, say ‘ah’” with the little sweet scented rectangle right by her mouth, she opened it, taking in the flavor. 

He looked at her expectant. 

“I don’t get the concept of the game, but it’s not cherry,” she said amused. 

“It’s not?” he looked at her confused and then at the box, looking at the list with its flavors. “But it was red.” 

“It’s strawberry.” 

“Then it’s fate,” he stated simply. 

Her eyebrows furrowed. “How so? I asked for cherries”

Taehyung laughed and started walking backward, right in front of her, hiding the little box inside his pocket once again. “You didn’t ask. You assumed. And although I very much wanted to give you the cherry flavored one, life decided to give you another one.” 

“And that’s fate because…?”

“Because I own the most delicious strawberry jam around here. That means life put you on my path for a reason, doesn’t it?” he asked childishly but his smile had a devilish charm of his own. 

Her breath hitched, and her heart skipped a beat. Even so, she tried her best to seem dismissive. “I still don’t see the point of the game.” 

“There isn’t one” Taehyung shrugged. His eyebrow raised like a silent dare, waiting for her to throw a tantrum. “I just made it up on the spot.” 

And she indeed threw a tantrum. A playful one. She wasn’t mad at him, not one bit. But she found it appropriate to scoff and go after him to at least try and hit him one time. She never managed to, however. 

They ran in circles, giggly, but as she was about to approach him, arm extended ready to hold on to his shirt, he pulled her by the hand — twirling her like a ballerina. 

As she came face to face with him again, he confessed, “You’re beautiful.” his hand still engulfed her own in the softest embrace. 

The traffic light right by her left suddenly shone a hue of red, as if advising that her heart was about to fail her. And right there, in the middle of the road, Kim Taehyung asked her something that no one had ever asked her before. “If you don’t want the Gazette for yourself… What do you want? Like, really want?”

“Wha-What do you mean?”, she asked still taken by surprise with an erratic heart. 

Taehyung pulled her softly towards him, and she went gladly, taking a few steps.

“If you close your eyes…” his voice was nothing but a whisper. 

Deo’s eyes fluttered, closing slowly, offering no resistance to his request this time. 

“If you imagine yourself happy, what is it that you see?” 

Me and all the glamour that a singer could have, Deo thought. She could see herself on top of a stage in a speakeasy or even in a movie, singing like a diva. Sporting nice silk dresses, and jewelry to match. She would like to live her life singing and dancing without thinking her dream was an impossible one, but her own reality instead. Oh, how she loved to lose herself in the beats of a funky tune…

She opened her eyes. “A house,” she answered. “One with big windows to let the sun shine through them… A big living room where I could dance freely, and maybe a big porch on the second floor for me to sit and sing. I’d have a nice husband who dances with me every night. And we would never fight. We’d have all these records of singers, and our dinners would always be so cheerful.” 

Taehyung smiled at her. 

He could see himself painting on that porch while she hummed some tune and the wind greeted them gently. He wasn’t sure how he would get there, to that dream, or even if he could afford such greatness. But he knew that he wanted to try. “Lot’s of records, huh?”, he mused over the idea. 

Deo nodded with a shy smile. “I’ve always loved the idea of having a house filled with music.”

“I like that.” Taehyung smiled at her, nodding to the idea. “My house was a bit like that… My grandpa has this neighborhood band of sorts,” he said and she chuckled finding it cute. 

The boy before her looked down like something was heavying his thoughts and instantly she wished she could lighten them. 

Taehyung knew he hadn’t much to offer a girl like her. She already had it all from where he was standing. But he could try, he knew he could. If it was up to him, she would have the best life ever. He would gladly take her to dance every evening in a spacious living room, buy her every record, and listen to her sing every night before closing his eyes to fall into a deep sleep. He would do his best for her to know she was loved and cared for. But most of all, for her to know that she was free. 

When their eyes met again, he pulled her closer. Their hands were still intertwined. 

This time, however, his free hand came to the small of her back, and for a second time froze. Is he going to kiss me now?, the girl thought nervous. A few miles away from the theater, on that calm night, Taehyung held her tight in his embrace, Deo’s cheek pressed on his chest. He started to move slowly from side to side. 

Suddenly a warmth irradiated her face, as she melted to the sound of his voice, singing her a song while they danced on that summer night, under the moon and traffic lights. 

♪ Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you ♫

♩ Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can’t help falling in love with you? ♬

His voice was deep, velvety and it could warm the coldest of winters. The notes fell out of his lips with a minimum of effort, and Deo couldn’t help but feel secure. His presence was comfortable and easy to take in, just like a Sunday morning, or fresh baked cookies.

She felt herself letting go of all of her worries, so she sang for him too. 

♪ Like a river flows, surely to the sea ♬

♫ Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be ♩

While she sang, she heard what was about to become her favorite tune — his heartbeat. 

He pulled back for a moment to face her mesmerized. “Where have you been all this time?” 

She smiled feeling cheeky, shrugging. “I don’t know… Wandering around in another city,” and then she looked right at his chocolate eyes. “Looking for you.” 

After that Taehyung held her face as gently as he could, kissing her as he had wanted to do ever since he had met her. Their kiss tasted like strawberries, and as she tugged on his collar, she realized — there was no turning back. She had fallen for him. 

PRESENT DAYS

       Taehyung's point of view.

Lately, it seemed that every time I closed my eyes at night it meant I would be seeing myself in my twenties again. And consequently, seeing her. 

And I can’t seem to understand if my heart keeps tugging because I long for that summer, or if it’s a plea for me to forget all about it. But how could I do so? Four years had already gone by and no matter what was thrown my way, I was never able to forget her eyes. 

I did have a period of time when those memories felt like fading. Or like they didn’t exist at all; nothing but a vivid creation of my own mind. Those had been the worst moments of my life. 

Perhaps now, the memories came back as a way of haunting me for what I was about to do. And I can’t help but laugh at the thought. That was something she would definitely do if she could… Haunt me for selling a house she wanted so much. 

But where was her if that was the case? Where was her as I walked these rushed concrete streets, of a city that never seems to sleep, making my way to yet another buyer? 

And for the first time in a long while I caught myself wondering if she was singing on another porch that was not my own with a mourning heart. 

🍓 TO BE CONTINUED… 

!! — singguks | all rights reserved.

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