#i have met this exact couple before and they always inevitably end up screaming at each other in the clubs

[pummelingbat]

idk how they managed to translate Armand's signature "stares at u with my big autistic eyes" trait so well into live action but its like. crazy good. like that's him.

[wispforever]

if youre still doing the character thing, how about spirit or marie?

I sure am. How about Spirit And Marie? Both wonderful characters. I’ll do Marie first, then Spirit. Thanks for the excuse to infodump, really. You people are too kind.

Marie Mjolnir

My first impression of Marie was the same impression I get of most female characters in anime. It’s either “why do their clothes have to look like that” or “oh god here comes the obligatory sexist heteronormative romance”. For Marie, it was more of the second. They mention in the same episode she’s introduced that Stein is her “first love”, which told me that if she had a large place in the plot, her assigned male counterpart around which to orbit would be him. Though I’ve never read the Soul Eater manga, I believe they do end up getting together there (I could be wrong). Whatever the case, I was relieved that Marie’s and Stein’s relationship (though heavily implied to be romantic, at least on Marie’s side) was left open to interpretation in the anime. I’m just very sick of cool badass female characters like Marie being reduced to the man they pine after. So, I guess my first impression of Marie and my impression of her now are largely the same. While I appreciate the moments we get to see her strengths and ability to operate on her own, I do think that her character really suffers because of the whole sexist “oh gosh all I want is to find a husband and retire” “oh my I have to take care of Stein” like okay, I had enough at the cat girl smothering Soul with her humungo-tits. I had enough at sexualizing underage girls and women in general. I had enough at making sexual harassment a punchline. That being said, when we push all of the shitty writing to the side, I admire Marie for her strength and how she interacts with the children, Crona in particular. Which leads me to my favorite moment(s).

The relationship Crona and Marie have interests me the most, since I’m really drawn to the parallels between Marie and Medusa. As parental figures (and as characters), they’re about as different as you can get. As Crona’s mother, Medusa is obviously abusive. Along with being negligent, she abuses Crona mentally, emotionally, and physically. In general, Medusa is a person who doesn’t appear to value interpersonal relationships, putting it nicely. She instead is more focused on her own interests, often to the detriment of those around her. Crona is Medusa’s only immediate family (besides Arachne who she is estranged from), and so they suffer the most from her refusal to show even a shred of human decency or warmth. They suffer especially because they are her child, meaning they’re stuck with her essentially, and repetivie abuse between family members like a mother and child often becomes complex because of the necessity of having a parental figure in your life to support you as you grow up. Medusa teaches Crona that their boundaries don’t matter and that they are only good as long as they are useful and do as they’re told. This is what makes Marie’s influence on Crona so cool to watch. Marie is caring by nature, loving and nurturing by nature. Her very wavelegnth is healing. She is kind and does what’s right reflexively. Marie is the exact embodiment of what Crona always needed but what, even upon being rescued by the academy, still felt so foreign to them: unconditional love. Crona struggles to understand why the other kids helped them, why Maka felt the inclination to stop their battle and save Crona instead by trying to understand them, why the kids are still so kind to them even after everything. They do not understand that love is not a bargaining chip. It isn’t leverage in an argument. It’s not a tool for emotional manipulation. Love is caring for the people close to you, just because. Love for the sake of love. The other kids and teachers at the academy are the ones who are able to pull Crona out of all Medusa’s lies, and Marie is a Huge part of that. Even though I have greivances with this being the largest part of her character and what that implies for female characters in general, it doesn’t stop being so beautiful to me that she could help Crona heal in this way. Marie = best mom for the win

Most of the story ideas I have for Marie involve her relationship with Crona or Stein. Say, this covers my unpopular opinion too. I don’t like Stein and Marie as a couple, but I really enjoy writing them as friends, because even though I don’t really jive with them being together romantically, I think their dynamic is an interesting one to explore because they Are so different.

Getting into that a little bit more, I’d like to start by saying I don’t care if other people like Stein and Marie being a couple. That’s great doods, keep doing you. The fanart’s adorable, the meta’s fantastic. Whoever you are, SteinMarie shippers, ffs keep kicking ASS. This is just my preference and opinion. Zero shade in this house. That said, because of my frustrations about Marie’s character I discussed in the first paragraph, I don’t like the idea of her and Stein being together romantically. It’s really a classic sexist trope: the troubled man and his sweet nurse. I’m also just fed up in general with the hetero-nonsense, so there. However, they are both wonderful characters that I enjoy very much seperately. Also, I think it’s worth mentioning that I’ve only seen the anime, so I can’t speak for the manga as far as their relationship or Marie’s character in general.

Oh shit I accidentally already talked about this one lmao [see the second paragraph]

One headcanon I like to think about when I’m writing Marie is that she likes women (in addition to men or not) and she struggles with comphet. Just something interesting I like to think about. It’s really fun for me to take characters who have been written as pining or had 10 million failed relationships and be like “say what if they can’t find a husband cuz really what they really need is a wife”. I’ll talk about that more with Spirit inevitably.

Spirit Albarn

My first impression of Spirit, obviously him being a cheater, really came with a lot of distaste. I come from a family that was torn apart by infidelity, among other things, so it really rubs me the wrong way. However, his saving grace for me was that he genuinely loves his daughter. It appears that, whether it’s played for laughs or not, he just can’t find fulfillment in his romantic relationships. The reason is left up to the veiwers. Spirit, ultimately, is not just a shitty person, which is how most cheaters are protrayed in media. “Well, they cheated because they don’t care if they hurt people”, “they cheated because they are shit and that’s it”. That’s a fine explanation if you plan to do nothing with whatever character you’re describing, but Spirit is relatively recurring and is shown to be neither mean-spirited or emotionally unintelligent. It bothers me that his cheating and routine sexist behaviour isn’t taken seriously enough to be a subject that Soul Eater tackles and deals with. But that’s fine. I’ll just do it myself. At any rate, I still feel that same way about Spirit’s character, but I find it intriguing that he seems to genuinely want to become a better father and is actually a pretty good dad when it comes to his interactions with Maka. If Soul Eater had been brave enough to develop him more, maybe delve into the reasoning behind his impulsive romantic affairs, I think Spirit as a character could have been done more justice. It seems to me that he could be suffering from some of that wonderful compulsory heterosexuality that I mentioned before, then becoming confused when the woman he claims to love leaves him feeling empty. Rattling my gay little cage

When I think of my favorite moments with Spirit, I think of his moments with Maka, but I’m gonna hold off on that until I get to favorite relationship(s). In reference to what I talked about in the first paragraph, one moment I find really interesting when I’m thinking about my interpretation of Spirit’s character is the scene where he and Maka are on the roof talking. Maka asks Spirit why he cheated on her mother if he did, in fact, love her. He doesn’t appear to know the answer, and he doesn’t really understand how to effectively communicate that, though he was shitty husband, what he really wants now is to try and be a better dad. We hear his inner monologue, and he says something like “I love you [Maka] and your mama. That’s the truth. That’s the truth. That’s the truth.” Every time he says “its the truth” it sounds more like he’s forcing it. This is actually something that is SO strange to me. Even if I didn’t project a queer narrative on to the characters I love, I would look at this and be like “huh that is a Weird thing to say in that specific way”. Why does he say it like that? Why does he have to say it more than once? He’s only talking to HIMSELF. It isn’t like he’s trying to convince Maka. Why does he have to convince himself?? Could it possibly be because he’s reached a conclusion about his romantic/sexual orientation that he’s been trying to swallow his Entire Life??? makes ya wonder, doesn’t it, queers?

Just like I said when I talked about Stein, most of the stories I have in mind with Spirit center around that sweet gayness. But also, I like to think of ways Spirit could come to terms with his sexuality, how it might have affected him when he was young, his relationship with all these women, with his wife. I love to think about him being a dad at 18 and trying his best, but how much responsibility that must have been. Lots of great ideas when it comes to Spirit.

Um? unpopular opinion would be all the standard like I said with Stein lmao. “Oh no!��� scream the heteros, “that they/them on tumblr is making Soul Eater queer we canst not allow that in our church!!!111!” But besides that, maybe even the fact that I think he’s redeemable?? Idk most everyone I’ve met thinks Spirit is funny at least and just calls him a dumbass and a slut (affectionate). Doesn’t mean anybody thinks cheating on your wife 56 times is okay so. I like this fandom, it’s chill here. My favorite is when I see my art tagged like “aw the stupid man and his crazy bf” like YOU ARE RIGHT

My favorite relationship when it comes to Spirit (besides Stein cuz if I start talking about them again I’ll never finish this ask) is the one he has with Maka. If you can call it a relationship lol. I guess I just find Spirit’s approach to Maka as a parent really refreshing. Not that the parents in other shows don’t love their kids or whatever, it’s just that the loving parent always seems to be paired with some other trope that makes their character hard to approach. especially in anime. Like the perfect mother who dies in the first episode, and we spend the rest of the show mourning her. Or the father whose love is somehow everlasting even though he’s never home. It’s really the fact that Spirit is even THERE that I love. He knows what Maka is up to. He talks about her. He’s invested in her life, and he loves her. All he wants is to spend time with her, and though he’s sad when she turns him down, he doesn’t push her. god dammit I just like a dad who actually loves his kids without all the usual strings attached like. oh my kids are a huge pain in my ass, but I love them in spite of it. oh i’m a man so can’t relate to my children in a meaningful way but i try. Get the fuck outta here with that shit. I want all the dads to get so happy when their daughters wanna hang with them that they throw up like Spirit. Give me the guy who loves his daughter so naturally, whose daughter is such a huge part of his life, that it doesn’t even occur to him stop trying even if she literally wants to murder him. That’s Spirit. jfc

To end with a cute little headcanon, I really love to think that when Spirit gets older and starts losing the color in his hair, instead of getting white or grey, his hair turns a pale pink color cuz he’s such an aggressive redhead. Wouldn’t that just be adorable? late 30′s, early 40′s, Spirit starts getting little pink streaks in his hair and then bam. Little pink old man Spirit XD

There ya have it. Thanks for the ask, and feel free to send more.

[mellointheory]

Honey and Glass

Punz had been tending bees for decades. He knew the moods of a hive, the way they could sense danger coming, the way the entire swarm would exude agitation when a disaster was near. There was no denying it: this entire town wasn’t going to last another day. The bees knew; they always did.

Normally once he entered the dome they would settle on his shoulders and arms, humming calmly as he slid the racks of honeycombs out of hives, drained the honey, and filtered it. Today, however, they refused to even come near him. Half of the entire hives’ population seemed to be flying over his head, bumping against the dome, crawling against the seams between the glass and the wood beams that supported it. They knew it wasn’t safe here anymore.

Punz had no reason not to trust their judgement. He opened the doors of the dome, standing aside and waiting for the insects to realize that their way out was open. They poured out past him, wings sending the air abuzz, taking to the skies en masse. No sympathy or goodbyes from them, they just wanted to survive. He hoped they thrived without him.

He’d had dozens of hives over his lifetime; he could always find another. He was an expert in leaving things behind. All he needed were a few possessions.

The white hood Bad had given him a few years ago. The gold chain he’d received as a status symbol in a cult once, back before he’d even stopped aging. A leather rucksack full of the honey he’d collected from his bees previously and hadn’t brought to the market yet.

The market…

Punz didn’t know the people in town very well. He’d come to this far-flung forest a few years back, after a little bit of a mixup with a disgraced king. It was only ever a place to sleep off his wounds, lay low for a couple decades, take a break and let himself be forgotten before he returned to mercenary work. He never saw any of the residents except when he went to town every few months to sell his honey and buy the foods he couldn’t grow out in the woods.

Considering they possibly were going to die soon, he may as well give the honey away for free.

The marketplace was busy. It always was at this time of afternoon; familiar vendors behind their stalls while the attendees wandered and bargained and shouted. Pumpkins and corn and potatoes, jewelry brought from distant lands, homemade alcohol that felt like a kick to the teeth. Punz found himself a quiet corner and sat cross-legged on the ground, opening up his rucksack and laying bottles of amber honey on the cobblestones in front of him.

He let his mind wander as he sat there. Occasionally someone would come by, inquire the price, and upon hearing it was free take as many as they could hold. Maybe he should have warned them.

Maybe, maybe, but Punz hadn’t lived this long by looking out for others. He would give them the fruits of his work for the past few years and then he would move on, out of here. Getting attached to people who would inevitably die was never a good idea. Bad would disagree with him, of course--the demon was one of the nicest people Punz knew, ironically--but Bad wasn’t here and Punz was.

A flash of color caught his eyes amid the crowd and he looked up. A young man was talking animatedly amid a group of four or five people. Punz didn’t pay attention to the others, but the person in the middle was hard not to see. He wore a hood like Punz’s, but cut differently and sewn together out of patches of wildly different colors. He had brown hair and fidgeted around a lot as he talked, wide movements and animated hand gestures.

The man turned slightly, glancing across the market, halfway through a sentence, and his eyes fell on Punz. He stopped talking.

Fuck.

Punz winced, immediately focusing his attention on the bottles of honey in front of him. He had no idea what about him was distracting the stranger, but making awkward eye contact in public never got any less embarrassing, no matter how long you lived.

Through his lashes he could see the man make a quick excuse to the people he was talking to and begin to jog across the street. He came to a stop in front of Punz, tilting his head curiously.

“Do I--do I know you?” The man asked slowly.

Punz looked up at him. He had green eyes and freckles, and his face was flushed from the heat. He didn’t look like anyone Punz knew or had known over the years--the social circles he ran in were more for warriors and bodyguards and assassins. This person looked like he hadn’t even witnessed a simple bar fight before.

“I don’t think so.” Punz said carefully, scanning the man’s face. “You don’t look like my type of person.”

The man giggled. “What does that mean? Are you calling me ugly or something?”

Punz blinked. “I--what?”

“I’m just messing with you.” The man leaned down, absentmindedly tapping a painted fingernail against one of the bottles of honey. He was still smiling brightly. “I’m Karl, by the way.”

Karl. Nope, Punz definitely didn’t know any Karls. “Do you want some honey?” Punz nodded at the bottle that Karl kept tapping.

“I mean, I don’t have any money.” Karl shrugged.

“It’s free.”

Karl flushed a little bit, picking up the round glass bottle and sliding it into the pocket of his hooded jacket. “Really? Thank you.”

Punz debated for a second, trying to figure out exactly if this was a bad idea or not.

“If I were you, I’d get out of here.” The blonde said finally. “This place isn’t going to last long. You probably don’t want to die.”

Karl’s face fell, but not in the way Punz expected. He didn’t look skeptical or worried, just resigned. Punz had warned people of their deaths many, many times and he knew this look. This man was expecting to die.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t be one of those.” He said softly, wrapping a fist around the honey bottle in his pocket. “It’s fine, though. Are you leaving?”

“Of course I fucking am. I don’t feel like dying today.” Punz shrugged, scooping up the remaining honey into his rucksack. He slung it over his shoulder and stood up. Something made him hesitate, though, waiting for the last thing Karl would say.

“Tell me your name first?” Karl asked, staring up at him.

“It’s Punz.” Punz exhaled a heavy sigh, sliding his arms through the rucksack’s straps. “So are you coming?”

“I…” Karl glanced behind him, at the group of people he’d left behind to come over to Punz’s corner. There was the brief flash of uncertainty in his eyes, almost desperation. Punz had judged him wrong at first; this wasn’t someone wholly unacquainted with death.

“I can’t. Stories to tell, and all that.” Karl smiled weakly. “I guess I’ll see you in a few hundred years.”

Years?

But Punz didn’t ask and Karl didn’t offer an explanation. The brunette turned and walked away, and after a brief moment Punz followed suit. He’d lost hundreds of people over the years. Karl had a story to tell, apparently, and Punz wasn’t someone to interrupt another person’s narrative.

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

The sun was going down when the earth broke open under them all.

Karl had seen it coming, ever since his new friends explained the strange rumblings underground, taken him around to see places where homes had disappeared into sinkholes. He’d seen it coming ever since he first landed here, because it had been a long, long time since he’d left a time without dying first.

There was screaming. Debris was falling too, breaking beams and rocks cascading down the side of the massive chasm. Someone below him shrieked for help as they plummeted. He knew he needed to write the screams, but sometimes he still couldn’t handle hearing the words. It was too much, too real, too sickening that the people he’d met just that day were dying with him. He would wake up from this. They wouldn’t.

Karl curled up as he fell, trying to drown out the wails. Focus on something happy. Focus on something else.

There should have been something in his head to distract him, he knew it. There should have been a face there--a voice, a smile, a touch he knew well. Memories to help him pretend he wasn’t about to die along with hundreds of others. It was lost in the fog of his head, along with a million other things he knew he should remember. There was someone out there, because he felt their loss, but he couldn’t even remember their name.

He shoved a hand into his hoodie pocket. Something struck him on its way down, sending him spinning, his entire shoulder going numb. His hand reflexively closed around the bottle of honey forgotten in his pocket. Smooth glass, curved, with the weight of liquid golden sweetness behind it. That was a thought he could handle. Honey in a bottle, golden hair in sunlight, a person who shouldn’t have been this far back. A name he did remember; a familiar face despite being hundreds of years removed from Karl’s own timeline.

You probably don’t want to die. Punz had said before he walked away.

I don’t, I don’t, I don’t, Karl thought desperately as the bottom of the chasm got closer. But I don’t have a choice.

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

Even as far away as he was, Punz knew when it happened. From his perch settled cross legged in the crook of a tree limb he could see the exact moment when the lights went out.

He didn’t enjoy death. Not even over all the years he’d seen it, all the times he’d brought it on others. It wasn’t like he could see an entire town full of people, children and husbands and wives and parents, be snuffed out and feel pleased that they were gone. He’d grown tired over the years, not emotionless.

Caring was never a good idea, but he couldn’t help wishing that Karl hadn’t wanted to stay.

It was the man’s own choice. Punz wasn’t the type of person to rescue someone against their wishes. He wasn’t the type of person to decide what was best for others. He was the type of person to watch people go down their path and let them do it, even if he had lingering hopes that it wouldn’t end for them the way he foresaw.

Punz pulled a bottle of honey out of his rucksack and yanked the cork out. In the distance the ground continued to shake, tremors as the earth swallowed up the surface.

If his hearing was sharper he could probably have heard the screams when they all fell. Thank god it wasn’t.

He tilted his head back and put the bottle to his lips, letting the honey slide down his throat. Thick, sweet enough to feel like it was clogging his throat, slightly warm despite the cool of the night air. The only thing he really had left from his years in the woods of that town--he was probably the only one who would remember them. Places disappeared and were forgotten all the time. People even more so.

Punz tilted his head back against the trunk of the tree and let the bottle slide out of his fingers, plummeting to the ground far below. It shattered a few seconds later, the tinkle of broken glass on an exposed tree root. So quiet in the night, yet somehow much louder than an entire town of people vanishing off the face of the earth.

You’ve seen things like this before, he told himself tiredly. Don’t get hung up over it.

But, as he closed his eyes to fall asleep, he wondered if Karl had a chance to eat the honey he’d taken or if he died without ever tasting it.

[minty-chocco]

hallo may i request Riddle falling out of love... And reader knows but isn't ready for the possibilities...👉👈 I like hurting myself with angst😔🤡👊✨ love your writing~

𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 🧁

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Angst if it’s not your fancy + it’s cliche (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Word Count: 1.8k words

Extra Notes: I got carried away for this prompt (*/ω＼) I was just listening to random songs and suddenly the one that got away played and I remembered this ask so I decided to do this! This is the first time i’m writing about this kind of prompt and I apologize in advance since I kinda strayed from it but I tried my best nonetheless. I hope you enjoy reading! o(>ω<)o

The scenery was quiet and serene. This would be relaxing to some but to you, the silence was suffocating. The rose garden was devoid of students except for the two of you. It were bereft of any winds and the tree leaves surrounding the garden hung limp as some fell to their own accord. 

Clutching at your tea cup you looked at the young redhaired man across you. He was on his dorm uniform as usual, his cape was neatly placed on the back of his chair, taking a sip from his drink. 

His face was one of awkwardness, shifting uncomfortably on his seat. Looking anywhere but at you.

You pondered as to why. Is it because of guilt? Or was it because of you? Is your presence was starting to become unbearable to him?

“Riddle.” You called out for him and the dorm leader froze but turned to look at you. Your eyes have finally met his for the first time this evening. 

 “Yes, (Y/N)?” He looked at you, his tone of speaking changed as if he’s talking to a stranger. It no longer held the soft tone he would use as he always regarded you.

“After we finish, let’s go explore the rose maze, okay?” You smiled at him, trying your best to be enthusiastic and keeping a friendly atmosphere. You gently caressed the marble colored tea cup you’re holding.

This is your last day with him after all.

“Okay.” He shortly replied. Riddle took a sugar cube and plopped 2 blocks in his chamomile tea. The brown herb-brew water splashed lightly upon the impact and the sugar instantly melted after meeting the hot tea, he then took a teaspoon to fully mix his drink.

You nodded at his answer, satisfied that he even replied. He would’ve just ignored you or nodded at your question. You thought maybe he was being considerate of you.

You lift the silver glassware tea cup and took notice of your features from the reflection of the drink.

You looked miserable. The dark circles on your eyes were deep-set and tired for crying yourself to sleep every day.

The sweet desserts on the table in celebration of your anniversary were bright lovely colors in contrast to the monochrome mood settling in between the two of you. 

You took a strawberry flavored macaron and took a bite. You tasted nothing. Trey’s sweet always had such a sweet and unique flavoring on it in which you admire so you’re always looking forward at his treats but today it tasted bland.

Maybe your mood was affecting your taste buds. You felt a little upset that you could no longer enjoy the simple things in life because you felt so miserable. This relationship was draining you.

After finishing a few sweets and drank your tea you two decided to be on your way. There were some left since you didn’t have the appetite but you were sure that Grim and the rest of your friends would happily eat them. Good for them. At least they are happy.

You stood up from your seat and gestured to Riddle. “Let’s go.” 

“Don’t take too much time.” He reminded firmly and followed you behind soon after. He’s treating you like any other students and not as a lover. “We should head back early.” 

“Let’s not talk about that.” You said waving him off not wanting to be reminded of time. The limited time that you two have left.

You two strolled around the maze, the sun was reaching its peak. Riddle was quietly following you from behind, 5 feet away from you. 

You smiled bitterly at yourself, you two used to walk side by side while holding hands but now it’s as if he’s also mocking the distance that grew between you two.

You stopped upon arriving at a familiar place at the part of the garden. The two of you sat at a nearby bench, Riddle made sure he isn’t too close to you before taking a seat.

“Remember when we first got together?” You recalled a memory from a past and looked to see Riddle’s reaction, his face was burdened with guilt and a mix of regret. He couldn’t even face you.

“This is where we first got together.” He answered and gazed at the painted roses. “Trey and Cater were helping me confess.” 

You chuckled fondly at the memory. As if nothing’s wrong. “Yeah. You were stuttering at your words back then.” 

Looking back, Riddle was as red as his hair but not in anger but in pure embarrassment back then. You were surprised at his sudden confession not expecting him to return your feelings at all.

When you accepted, Riddle couldn’t be happier and the two of you shared your first kiss in this place. 

Your relationship with him wasn’t perfect. Just like any other couples, you two would fight. His temper doesn’t help during arguments either but you two made sure at the end of the day you two would make up, not wanting the other to sleep with a heavy heart. 

There might be some misunderstandings but the two of you would often communicate with each other to help understand each side. 

Riddle was awkward at the first stages of your relationship. This was his first relationship and he wants to become a good partner for you. Despite his loaded duties, he’ll always made sure to have time for you. 

The heartslabyul dorm leader would have one on one tea parties with you atleast 2 times a week. He’ll make you desserts without the help of Trey to show his sincerity, although it might not be the best, you appreciate his effort and would happily eat what he offered.

He’ll be shy just from a small romantic gesture like holding hands but even so, he would never let go and his grip is secure. He makes sure that you’re not failing any subjects and would glad to go on to study dates with you. He always called your name with such fondness that you can’t help but feel loved. 

You once tried to make up a pet name for the two of you in which he politely declined. Riddle said he liked it when he calls your name because he loves your name as he does to you. This of course made you flustered, he didn’t even realize what he was saying until it dwelled on him which made him redder than you.

You felt hot burning pain build up on your chest at the sweet memories which will soon turn into bittersweet ones. “You promised to treat me well back then.. What happened now?” 

Riddle couldn’t answer. How could he answer that?

Noticing the lack of response, you whispered to yourself. “Promises really do meant to be broken.”

“(Y/N).” He warned. Riddle’s voice was cold and no longer held the fondness when saying your name before. 

“I was just joking.” You let out a forced laugh. “Happy anniversary.”

By your words, Riddle felt guilt again that he had been feeling all this time. Regret washed over his expression like a slow wave on a beach in the night. Each wave was icy and cold such as he was feeling right now but he knows he can no longer go back.

Although it was inevitable, he can’t force himself in a relationship with someone he no longer loves. Riddle really didn’t want to keep you hoping any longer so he wanted to break up with you yesterday but you had begged him to at least celebrate your anniversary. Just lie to each other again one last time.

“We should head back.” Riddle suggested not wanting to be here any longer. He stood up not waiting for your reply when you suddenly held his hand. 

“Wait.” You felt desperate, you wanted to be with him more. You help on tightly not wanting to let go. “C-can you stay a little longer?” 

“I can’t. I have to check the dorm.” He tried to loosen up your grip but you held on tighter. 

“I love you.” You declared your love for him once again hoping it was enough to make him stay but silence was followed. As if it will.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in a small voice. He was being nice to you out of respect being his first love but his words for you were cruel that he inflicted unintentionally. If he had been aware, he would not have cared one iota.

Your breath hitched. “Can’t.. you just say it back one last time?” 

“I can’t keep lying to you, (Y/N).” 

“Please.” You pleaded. “Just this time.”

Riddle felt frustrated but obeyed nonetheless. He hoped that at least this could give you peace. “I love you.” 

There, you finally heard the words that you haven’t heard for a long time now. That phrase was supposed to make any person feel butterflies but it was different for you. It was 3 words that expresses someone’s feelings of affection but Riddle’s words felt empty. It made you feel worse and you finally let go of his hand.

But instead he didn’t leave, he looked at you one last time with a pitiful expression on his face directed at you and you hated it. You didn’t want his pity. “You deserve better.” 

You gritted your teeth wanting to scream at him. Why? Just when did it go wrong?

He smiled at you and gently caressed your hair. This is the least he could do to comfort you. “I really did love you, (Y/N). Thank you for everything. You’re still welcome at heartslabyul anytime.”

Riddle soon turned his back on you and walked away.

You could only stare blankly at his retreating figure. No tears were shed, you already had cried enough upon realizing he doesn’t love you anymore. 

Instead, you felt empty. 

How ironic it is that in this exact spot that your relationship started but it’s also the very same place that ended it.

Deep down, you knew this would happen but refused to accept it. Even when Riddle would often ignore you in between classes, you’ll think maybe he is having a bad day. Even when he would look annoyed whenever you initiate physical affection, you’ll think maybe he is just tired. Even when he no longer calls your name with such warmth, you’ll think maybe he isn’t in the mood.

But that routine held on for a month now. At some point, you can’t make out excuses anymore because you have already been giving him too much.

Maybe if things could’ve been done differently, the outcome would’ve changed. 

Maybe if you tried hard enough.

But you could only dwell on the possibilities.

In another life, surely you two would still be happily together.

Sadly, that story isn’t yours to tell. 

Because the story of the two of you already ended here. 

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! 🌙

[whumpbby]

I finished typing and now I feel I have to preface it with a: this is all a monologue about Jedi and Force and Lucas’ inability to show the good story he wants to tell - just a warning. This is in no way meant to contradict the other post with that quote floating around or argue against it - just my own rambling coming to a conclusion I keep struggling with when it comes to SW universe and the ways it makes no sense to me and how I feel deep in my bones that Lucas is a crap storyteller.

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I don’t know why, but for all the interesting concepts Lucas talks about, Anakin’s fall never sat well with me. In time I came to the conclusion I would respond better if the Jedi culture surrounding it wasn’t so contradictory to itself.

And if he wasn’t so heavily leaning on the concept of the ‘pure love’ that is unconditional and undemanding and ‘unselfish’. Tldr: that love does not exist outside of poetry and romance dramas and imagination. Like every other emotion humans feel, love is conditional.

Take the first trilogy - I got that. The Jedi were largely missing and there was not much lore-wise, but the vibe it gave was measured and peaceful and mindful, and all the things that stood against the Empire - that represented the Dark Side in a very concise way. It wasn’t too nuanced, so we could buy it in this very simple ‘princes kidnapped b ya dragon’ story. This is as good as Lucas gets.

But then the prequels happened and Jedi became this weird, extremely specific, but conflicting idea. They are not supposed to take sides in politics - except when they do. They are not supposed to kill - except when they do, with freaking relish. They are not supposed to love or hate or allow emotions dictate their ways - oh, except when they do. And they can have sex - just not sex with someone they want to settle down with (oh boy, is that a signifier of a story written by a guy or what?). All seems to be ‘except when they do, as long as it can be adequately justified to make them look good’.

And I do have an issue with the idea of ‘Anakin was too old to join, he was already attached to his mother’ which is, when you think about it, is insane. Learning to control your emotions and letting go of your wants, Buddhist way, fine.

Aiming to train children to not be attached to their parents? What? How young a child has to be for that attachment forms? How is a meditation and repeating mantras going to help a 5-year old who is missing their mom at the temple? How do you even expect to train a child out of missing their mom??? How is it NOT better to get an older child that can reason above the instinctual and hardwired need for their mother? 

But let’s say Anakin’s attachment to his mother was ‘selfish’ from the beginning - but, that’s the thing, was it? Was it really? They were slaves and she was his only family, okay, obviously that made his attachment stronger and more layered than, say, a normal middle-class Coruscanti kid who could love their mom without constant fear that any day they can be separated forever by someone who didn’t give a shit. In that sense, yes, Anakin was desperately attached to his mom and afraid of loosing her - there was fear in him. Right, I’m there with you, Yoda.

But the movies show us that the way Jedi seem to approach these hard subjects is by not approaching them at all - oh, well, we can’t take him in. He had a difficult childhood and there are issues attached, get him out of here.

In a galaxy full of races and issues and the Force being tied to any and all creatures in any and all circumstances - this was the hard line Jedi were drawing. In essence, either only accepting kids young enough to not remember their parents (and I see absolutely no issues whatsoever that could happen here, nope) or with childhoods perfect enough not to have any issues whatsoever. Anyone else? Adults that discovered Force when they were older? Kids like Anakin with hard childhoods? Creatures that were either culturally or chemically wired differently enough that the tight reins Jedi held over their emotions weren’t possible for them? Nope. Go away. You are a bad person in the making.

If you spend a moment contemplating, you will realise this is such a white privileged guy way to think about it. And if you stick your head into the microwave for a couple seconds, you can almost understand how Lucas thought this is something profound and mystical.

No that I think about it... I always thought Sith were freaking clowns - their philosophy makes no sense, their ‘rule of two’ is hilarious, everything about them is just so badly designed and thought out, and who would ever decide to join of that creepy cult of their own volition? It made no sense!

But, as an answer to the egalitarian and contradictory ways of the Jedi - Sith make all the sense to exist. And let’s forget about the Light and Dark (that I don’t believe exist above the ways of personal emotional expression that in time trains the Force around a person in certain ways - like a person can train their brain in and out of anxiety ofr example), but focusing strictly on philosophy - yeah, being a Sith makes sense when any other way is barred form someone by no fault of their own. And barred with an excuse they are a bad seed anyway. 

“You fear/hate/desire hence you can’t access the Force with us” = “Well fuck you, then, I will access the Force in my own way, using these exact emotions!”

Like, Sith are clowns, but Jedi suck in their own very special way and their fall was just waiting to happen.

I get a strange feeling that Lucas created Jedi as a class of a warrior monk in DnD and then scrambled to create their enemies out of the simplest contradictions. Light-dark. Love-Hate. Peace-Fear. Etc. But because Jedi were so simple - once they started to gain popularity and he had to expand their lore and layer on the philosophy, he hit a wall. Or rather, the bottom of the kiddy pool. Because a ‘warrior monk’ is not an a ‘good’ class, but he wanted them to be mostly warriors, but also a force of good in the galaxy, because Star Wars is the same simple story repeated again and again with a new set of characters (regardless of how much fake politics is thrown in to obscure that fact) so this whole universe is basically built on giving Jedi reasons to fight and kill, and adequately justifying them. And then the Dark Side had to catch up by being more ridiculously evil at every turn - accidentally unmasking the way Jedi philosophy falls apart under closer scrutiny.

So like, to make a full circle, the one thing the prequels did well was to show Anakin’s fall (and I am not gonna argue, it was effective and he is a villain of this story) but they also presented - I think against the creator’s intention - why it was pretty much inevitable. Not because Palpatine was there to whisper poison, or because Force itself strived for ‘balance’ (even though the latter is a hilarious idea I love to contemplate) - but because Jedi, as presented in the movies-media around them, as a philosophy and way of life is inherently contradictory and unsustainable from the point of being a, well, a breathing, thinking being.  The ‘selfish love’ argument would work so much better if it wasn’t presented with an example of a kid who was born a slave and the people who saw it as a strike against his character, and did very little to address the specific issues that could arise from that before it was too late. 

Would it fucking kill them to let go of their strict training routine and ensure that his specific emotional needs were met? That Shimi was, I don’t know, NOT A SLAVE. They seem to interfere into politics just fine when need arises - but not when it’s a sandy planet in the ass-end of the universe no one cares about. Then no, we can’t liberate one slave. That would be acting in self-interest - not in the interest of not allowing one of the strongest members of out order to fall into the ruin we have forseen form the beginning. 

It would work better is if Anakin’s ‘selfishness’ was presented as his inability to let Padme leave him for someone else/just leave him - not to be unwilling to let her die.  

Think about it for a moment - he wasn’t presented with the idea of Padme leaving him. With the idea of his mother not loving him anymore. He was firmly and, form his point of view, believably, presented with the idea of both of them DYING. Which actually happened to his mom, solidifying the fear in his mind.

Yes, he was not meant to go on a rampage and kill the ones who killed Shimi - but wasn’t he? The Jedi are not against killing. Only killing in self-interest I guess - when self-interest is not one’s life and their political affiliation or their ‘job’ at hand, that is. Revenge is a no-no, but a military retaliation is a yes-go. Can’t kill anyone who wronged me - but I can kill those who wronged a person who gives me orders. How does that work within a Jedi doctrine? 

How, in good conscience, can you present this scenario, George, and then try to spin it into this big philosophical bullcrap about unselfish love????  Jedi murdered people over political squabbles - but I guess that’s okay because they weren’t invested??? And that’s better?!?!? George! What the fuck! You are such a bloke my head hurts!

In case of Anakin, Jedi were essentially Elsa’s parents. I pretty much despise Elsa and the film she crawled out of, and I personally don’t like Anakin as a character either, so this is not stanning in any way, but their issues scream ‘I was raised by well-meaning idiots’ and shows the level of botched storytelling I just can’t reconcile.

Which, you know what? 

Luke, who spent years studying Jedi ways and taking them into himself? 

I can believe than this Luke would try to kill his nephew at the barest whiff of the Dark Premonition instead of helping him manage his motions in a somewhat healthy way - that seems to be exactly what a real Jedi would do, after all. 

[spine-buster]

m a d e  o f  o u t e r  s p a c e | elias pettersson

Summary: Brock Boeser invites Elias Pettersson and his childhood best friend, Svea Nilsson, to his place on Prior Lake for the weekend.  Petey is feeling some feelings.  So is Svea.  And in a big group of twenty-somethings at a cottage on a summer weekend, what could go wrong?

Word Count: 14.8k

A/N: Some tropes here, definitely some character archetypes, but an overall good time that includes Incredibly Soft Bitch Hours™ because I’m an Incredibly Soft Bitch™ for Elias Pettersson. 

Svea Nilsson decided to go to university in Vancouver and Elias Pettersson decided to follow her.  Not the other way around.

Svea and Elias had been best friends since childhood – when Elias saw her faceplant on the ice at the local rink and he helped her up.  Simple as that.  They had the exact same temperament, and everyone would comment about it.  Their parents, their teachers, their mutual friends, their classmates – everybody would always say something: how so very quiet they were; how shy they were; how so very nice they were; how calm they were; how focused they were; how mature they were; how so very humble they were; how dry their sense of humour was; how they would open up when they got to know you.  The only difference between them was hockey.  When Elias began to take hockey more seriously, and play hockey more seriously, it didn’t change things.  Svea only took hockey seriously because Elias did.  She went to his games.  She would watch him.  She’d offer words of encouragement.  But she was the academic.  She was the one with her nose in a book in the stands in-between periods.  She was the one who got straight A’s and helped Elias with his abysmal English grades and had all the teachers loving her because she was so academic, so driven.  

So when Svea chose to go to Vancouver for university, where her mom was from, instead of Stockholm, where all her other friends were dying to go to get out of Ånge, everybody was shocked.  Except for Elias.  He was the first person she told, and the first person who told her to go for it.  She admitted she was a bit nervous to apply, and even more nervous about getting in.  It would mean she would have to leave him in Sweden.  But Elias wasn’t scared about any of that; he wasn’t scared of much, really.  “I’m going to follow you, anyway,” he’d said to her.  “When I play in the NHL.”

And then she got in.  And she had to leave Elias in Sweden.  

But that’s when happens when your mom is Canadian and she moved half around the world for your dad – you choose to rediscover your roots and see and live in the city your mom once called home.  You choose to move half-way across the world despite the fear and despite the fact that you’d leave your best friend behind, relying on May to August to spend as much time as possible with him.  Even though Svea was closer to Elias than she was to anyone else in the world, including her sister; and even though, like Catherine Earnshaw said in Wuthering Heights, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same”, she was leaving him.  

It was the hardest year of Svea’s life, when she was in Vancouver her first year and he stayed in Sweden to play with Vaxjo.  They would call and text each other constantly, with FaceTimes and Skype dates written into their schedules as easily and frequently as grocery shopping.  That spring, after finishing her exams on April 21st, she returned to Sweden on April 22nd, making it just in time to watch Elias score the game winning goal and the rest of the Vaxjo Lakers win the Swedish championships.  She was so happy for him she cried.  And when she surprised him on the ice – before all the gold paint, before all the champagne – he cried too.  He hugged her for so long she thought he wouldn’t let go.  And truthfully, she didn’t want him to.  

When he signed his contract with Vancouver and moved to the city, he asked – practically demanded – that she live with him.  She agreed because she didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to live rent free with her best friend in a beautiful condo that was bigger than the house in Ånge she grew up in.  She practically had her own wing, with a giant bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows, her own bathroom, and Elias even let her have the den for all her studying.  They’d cook together, go out for sushi and waffles together, and Svea would even go to some games if she wasn’t busy studying.  When she was busy studying, Elias would leave her alone, which was what she loved most.  He understood her.  He never pressured her about anything.  But when she did go out with him – to games or afterwards – he’d made sure she made friends with the team.  So it became not just Elias – it became Brock, and Jake, and Marky, and Bo and Holly too, sometimes even Loui and Adam and JT.  

But in the end, it was Elias.  It was always Elias.  

It was Elias leaving with her when she wanted to leave early from Canucks events she’d inevitably be at or just regular nights out with the guys.  It was Elias calling cabs to take them home.  It was Elias making sure she got tucked into bed safely, leaving an Advil and a glass of water on her bedside table.  It was Elias making breakfast in the morning to cure any hangovers she got.  It was Elias bringing her snacks or making sure she got a good night’s sleep before midterms or exams.  It was Elias hugging her and telling her everything would be okay when she got stressed about a bad mark or an awful professor.  It was Elias who would help celebrate her highs, and would be there for her lows.  

It was always Elias.

>< >< >< >< ><

Friday

When Elias and Svea walked through the arrivals section of Minneapolis-St Paul International Airport, Brock Boeser was already waiting for them, holding a homemade sign that he had definitely scribbled in the car before getting there.  They immediately walked over to him, giant smiles on their faces.  He gave them big bear hugs – Brock always gave the best hugs, Svea thought, besides Elias – and grabbed Svea’s bag for her.  

“It’s only about a half our drive out to Prior Lake,” he said as they walked out into the parking garage.  “Did they feed you on the plane?  You guys want to grab something to eat now?”

“We can just wait and eat something at the house,” Svea said.

“All my friends are at my place already.  I told them to get lunch ready so hopefully they listened.”

“And if they didn’t we’re out of luck huh?” Elias joked as he settled into the passenger’s seat.  Svea slipped into the back.

Svea had never been to Minnesota before – she hadn’t been anywhere in the States besides the Pacific Northwest – but she enjoyed the drive out to the lake as much as she could.  When they finally arrived at the house, Svea admired the beautiful architectural design and big tree in the front.  She knew the house backed onto the lake, so it would be nice to see what the backyard looked like if the front was this beautiful.  

When Brock opened the front door, there was already music playing and a lot of commotion in the kitchen.  Svea, on instinct, instantly became a bit nervous at all the voices she heard.  She looked over at Elias quickly.  “We’re back!” Brock yelled out over the music.  Suddenly, a rush of people came from the kitchen.  Svea was sure she was clutching onto her luggage so tightly her knuckles were white.  “Did you guys make lunch?” Brock asked.

“Parker’s just finishing up,” a beautiful redhead said as she approached them.  Svea could see the pattern of her bikini through her tank top.  The girl stared directly at Elias, not giving her so much as a glance.  “Is this Elias?”

“Okay, everybody!” Brock called out.  “These are my friends Elias and Svea!”  She and Elias smiled politely at everyone, and Elias even gave a dumb wave.  “Petey, Svea…okay, we’ve got Kyla, Hallie, Marcus, McKenna, Brayden, Tanner, Brett, Parker’s outside on the barbecue I guess…and of course, you know—”

“Meeeeeee!” Brock’s girlfriend, Grace Gillespie screamed as she rounded the corner with her arms wide open for hugs, shoving past the crowd to get to her friends.  After having not seen them for a couple of weeks, she was happy to be hosting them in Minnesota.  “How was your flight?  Everything go well?”

Svea gave her a warm hug.  She was so glad to see a friendly face in Grace.  Despite their personality differences Svea loved her and always had a good time with her.  They were fairly close, especially while in Vancouver together trying to navigate the lives of Brock and Elias.  “Everything was nice,” Svea nodded her head as Grace hugged Elias but kept her attention on Svea.  “I’ve never been to Minnesota before.  The drive out here was nice, too.”

“Okay, good,” she said, turning her attention back to Brock.  “Babe, can you make sure Parker’s not burning his face off on the barbecue?  I can show Elias and Svea their room.”

Brock ran out to the back while the group dispersed, Kyla and Hallie’s eyes watching them.  Svea tried not to look, but she couldn’t help it as they made their way through the house, following Grace.  When their eyes met, it was like Kyla and Hallie were hawks and Svea was the prey.  Or was it Elias?  Either way, she didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out.  And when she looked at Elias again, he didn’t even seem to notice – either that, or he did and just didn’t care.  As a young, star hockey player in Vancouver, he was used to people staring at him by now.  There were even times where they’d be out for dinner together and people would approach their table asking for autographs or photos.  Svea knew Elias wasn’t any more comfortable with it, despite it happening so often now – he was still very much uncomfortable with it – but he was learning to take it all in stride.  Her, not so much.  She didn’t know if she could ever get used to people wanting pictures and an autograph of her best friend.  Because that’s what he still was to her, despite all his success and fame – her best friend.  

Grace led them down into the basement of the house.  Thankfully, it got quieter and Svea was actually able to hear her thoughts over the voices and the music.  “Okay, so there’s five bedrooms upstairs and most of us are staying up there, but Brock and I know you guys, and how you like your own space and aren’t loud like the rest of them are, so we put you down here for your benefit,” Grace explained.  “You’ve got the double bed and your own bathroom down here.  And nobody can disturb you, so if you want to, like, take a breather, you can,” she continued, looking directly at Svea as she said the words.  Svea thanked her lucky stars for Grace.  When Grace opened the door, they were met with a plain but cozy bedroom.  Because the basement was technically a walkout, one wall had a massive window, looking out on to the lake.  There was another door that led to said washroom.

“This is so cozy,” Svea heard Elias say as he walked further into the bedroom.  “Tell Brock I want him to bring me breakfast in bed down here tomorrow morning.”

Everybody couldn’t help but laugh.  Svea couldn’t help but admire Elias’s smile.  “Okay, well, I’ll let you two unpack and get settled,” Grace said.  “Lunch should be ready in about fifteen minutes.  And if I were you, I’d put on your bathing suits now because Brock’s gonna drag us all into the lake afterwards.”

She left without saying another word, leaving Svea and Elias looking at each other as they stood alone in the room.  “I think I might have a headache by the end of the weekend,” Elias said.

Svea couldn’t help but snort.  “I think we both will.”

“At least Grace will tell people to be quiet.  Brock will only get louder,” he said as he lifted his suitcase and put it on top of the bed.  Svea followed, lifting her own onto the opposite side of the bed.  “You want to change and go back upstairs with everyone?  I can unpack everything,” Elias offered.

“I’m not going if you’re not going,” she shook her head.  It was the theme of their life together, really.

Elias smiled.  “Suit yourself.”

They unpacked in relative silence, slipping past each other every so often and in and out of the washroom to put away their toiletries.  Eventually Svea escaped inside the washroom to put her bathing suit on under her clothes.  Elias changed while she did.  When she emerged, she found him wearing an obnoxious pair of Hawaiian print swim trunks.  “Did Brock buy you those?”

“He did,” Elias nodded, his smile telling her he knew they were ridiculous but there was no way he couldn’t wear them.  He looked at her, standing near the doorway of the washroom, her hands adjusting the dress she’d changed into.  “Are you nervous, Svea?” he asked suddenly.  She couldn’t help but nod her head.  “I won’t leave your side, okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, Elias.”

“That’s impossible,” he chuckled slightly, approaching her.  “I worry about you constantly.”

That made Svea furrow her brows.  Why would he worry about her?  She didn’t think she ever gave him anything to worry about.  She knew she was really reserved in big groups of people, preferring to just watch and listen rather than act and talk, but so was he.  “Why do you wor—”

“Petey?  Svea?  Lunch is ready!” Grace called down the stairs, interrupting their conversation.  

This would clearly have to be discussed later.  

Elias led them back upstairs, and they looked at the back deck to see everyone congregating near the giant table as they last of the food was being put on plates by Parker.  Grace grabbed Svea’s hand and led her around the table to sit next to her; Elias made sure to follow so he wasn’t stuck with any of the loud and boisterous others.  Brock settled in across from him, which meant the redhead, Kyla, slid in beside him, getting a bit too close for his liking.  She looked at him and smiled and he gave a tight-lipped grin back, trying to be polite, but also trying to tell her he needed more room for his elbows.  He knew he wasn’t a big guy but he could barely get his hands onto the table – he’d look like a t-rex eating at this rate.

“Brock says we can call you Petey – is that okay?” Kyla asked, cocking her head to the side as she touched Elias’s forearm briefly.

“That’s fine,” he nodded quickly.

“How do you pronounce your name in Swedish, anyway?  Cause I definitely want to learn how,” she continued.  

“Wait!  Let me do it!” Brock yelled, interrupting whatever moment Kyla was trying to create.  Brock took one last look at Svea and Elias before taking a dramatic pause and saying it.  “El-ee-as Pet-ter-shon.”

Svea and Elias began to clap, and Brock bowed in his seat.  Elias’s smile was wide at Brock’s pronunciation.  “Good job.  Now we can move on to our ABCs.”

After lunch, Brock took Elias, Svea, Grace, Kyla, and Parker out on the boat.  They zigzagged around the lake, the hot sun beaming down on them as Brock eventually stopped in the middle of the lake so they could swim and sunbathe for a bit.  He cracked open a couple of beers and stripped down to his swim trunks.  Kyla stood up in front of Elias and took her shirt off practically right in front of him, exposing her bikini.  Svea couldn’t help but watch, wondering if Elias noticed how well Kyla filled it out.  Svea never filled anything out.  Whereas Kyla had a beautifully athletic body, Svea had nothing of the sort.  She wondered if Elias noticed the difference between them.  He’d known Svea practically his whole life, but Kyla would be a shiny new toy.  Kyla seemed pretty dead set on getting his attention at lunch, and she was clearly taking the next step.  Even when she jumped into the lake from the boat and came back on, soaking wet and body now practically glistening in the sunlight, she made sure to dry herself in front of Elias too, perching her leg on the edge of the boat to show off her long legs.  

When they got back to the cottage after a few hours of being out on the lake, homemade pizzas were waiting to be devoured as dinner.  And when dinner was over, Grace suggested an innocent movie night before the rowdiness of tomorrow, so everybody changed into their pajamas, poured bowls of popcorn and chips and Skittles, and sprawled out over the couches.  Svea had a bowl of chips in her hands as she watched Kyla settle in next to Elias on the couch, almost instantly beginning to chat him up about the movie.  Elias smiled and nodded but was soon looking around the room.  When his eyes found her, he got up from the couch.  Kyla was mid-sentence.  

“You coming to sit?” he asked, grabbing the chip bowl and leading her to the armchair.  He sat down first, scooting over to the edge until Svea sat beside him.  Brock threw a blanket at her and she unfolded it right before Elias grabbed her legs and swung them over his lap.  She laid the blanket on top of them.  

Kyla was glaring at her.  Nobody else seemed to notice, but Svea felt Kyla’s eyes burning a hole into her.  Svea tried as much as possible to ignore it, but she could still feel it.  

“Comfortable?” Elias asked.

Svea nodded her head.  “I think you were meant to sit beside someone else,” she quipped, quickly and in Swedish so no-one else would understand.  

Elias followed Svea’s line of site and saw Kyla staring, but the second she saw Elias staring too, she looked away, her face softening from its previous glare.  Elias chuckled slightly.  “Her forwardness scares me.”

“She’s flirting with you, you know.  She’s got the hots for you.”

“I don’t care.”

She felt his hand rest in-between her legs, just above her knee, still shielded under the blanket.  When she settled into his chest, and the movie started, she felt his thumb rub circles along her skin.  It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary – he did this all the time – but in a room full of people, and one girl in particular who seemed to want to get him into bed with her, it was a bold move.

Svea sighed.  This was going to be an interesting weekend.

>< >< >< >< ><

Saturday

Svea barely remembered falling asleep during the movie, and she barely remembered being led downstairs to their room by Elias who proceeded to tuck her into bed and cuddle against her in bed, pulling her back against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her.  When she awoke the next morning on her back, Elias’s one arm was still draped over her while the other was underneath the pillows.  His blonde hair – usually combed back into his signature slick look – was everywhere, sticking up in every direction because of the pillow.  His face looked so peaceful as he slept, the softest of snores escaping him.  

Svea and Elias did this a lot: cuddle on a couch and be a bit handsy before sleeping in the same bed together, then wake up with their limbs all tangled and their faces so close to each other if they moved one inch forward, they would kiss.  Maybe they shouldn’t, because it could lead to complicated feelings and mixed signals and messages, but they did.  It was what they did.  It started so long ago in Ånge and followed them to Vancouver and Svea didn’t—couldn’t—never wanted to stop.  Did that make her selfish?  Did it hold her back from meeting a nice guy?  Did it hold Elias back from meeting a nice girl?  

Elias never really asked, but neither did she, about any of that sort of stuff – mostly because they both knew.  They both knew the other didn’t do stuff like that – hook up with people randomly, or without thought.  They weren’t like that and weren’t those types of people.  The last time they’d asked each other about that, the outcome was much, much different.  

It was a quiet night in Ånge, with their parents both out for one reason or another.  Emil was out for a friend’s birthday, and Sigrid was already in Stockholm for university.  They were watching a movie, cuddled with her legs in his lap and his arm around her back under the same blanket on the couch.  Truth be told, she hadn’t been paying much attention to the movie – she had other thoughts on her mind, ever since they started cuddling and Elias had put his arm around her and settled it on the hem of her pants, his fingertips grazing her skin every so often.  This wasn’t the first time they cuddled together underneath a blanket.  This wasn’t even the first time his fingertips touched her skin there.  But because they were alone, and because Svea was…well, curious, she couldn’t help but have that curiosity get the best of her.

“Elias?” she asked in a fake-sweet voice, turning her attention away from the TV and to his face.

“Svea?” he asked back, using an equally-fake-but-sweet tone, but not looking at her.

“Do you like any girls at school?”

That caught his attention enough to have him look down at her skeptically.  “What’s this about?”

She didn’t know what to say, because it’s not like she wanted to actually tell him what was really on her mind.  She should have thought this through much more.  She shrugged her shoulders, trying to seem nonchalant.  “I’m just wondering.”

“Why?  Did you hear something?”

“No.”

“Good,” he sighed out of relief.  “And to answer your question – no.  I don’t like any girls at school.  You know I only have eyes for you anyway.”

“Oh shut up, Elias,” Svea slapped his chest and rolled her eyes at him.  “You’re so full of shit.”

“Am not!” he argued, a smile playing on his face since he knew by her tone she was joking.  “You’re the only girl that’s worth my time, Svea.  You know that.  I wouldn’t be cuddling with anyone else but you.”

“But do you think…” she found herself saying, unable to just shut the hell up.  “Like, you’re not interested in the girls in our grade, but what if a boy is interested in me?”

Elias looked down at her again, brows even more furrowed and an angry look on his face.  “Who?!”

“Nobody, Elias.  Calm down,” she said.  “I’m just saying.  Is it horrible that I wouldn’t feel comfortable if a boy in our grade wanted to kiss me or something?  I mean I’m sixteen but I haven’t even had my first kiss yet,” Svea knew she was just word vomiting now.  She couldn’t help herself, but besides Sigrid, Elias was the only person she could have these conversations with.

“Of course it’s not horrible,” Elias said.  “You’re too good for everybody in our grade anyway.  Nobody should be kissing you.”

“I don’t think I’d feel comfortable with anybody besides you,” she mumbled absent-mindedly.

“What was that?”

She sighed heavily, not wanting to have to repeat herself since she was instantly embarrassed that she’d admitted those words out loud.  But she knew Elias wouldn’t let it go, so she met his eyes shyly.  “I said I don’t think I’d feel comfortable with anybody besides you.”

Elias paused, realizing the weight of her words as they hung in the air.  He barely even blinked as the words ruminated in his mind.  Svea almost wanted to pinch him because he was too quiet – even for him.  All anybody ever said about him was that he was quiet, but he was being too quiet now.  She was about to impulsively just get up and leave when he finally spoke.  “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with anybody besides you, either.”

“Really?” she asked softly.

“Of course not,” he said.  “I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t even want to,” he expressed sheepishly.

Svea shivered.  She looked into Elias’s eyes and saw everything she loved about him.  His humility, his sense of humour he only reserved for her and a select few others, his sense of self.  There was a reason they had stayed best friends all these years, and that high school hadn’t changed anything.  “Elias…” she gulped.

“Svea,” he mimicked her tone again.  

“Elias…if…do you want to—I mean, would you—I—I—if we could lose our virginity to each other, would you?”

*

Svea and Elias found themselves in his bedroom, staring at the other as they stood a few feet away from each other.  Both were barely breathing, too focused on the emotions being shown on the face of the other to think about something as trivial as breathing.  Svea knew she didn’t want to be doing this with anyone else besides Elias, but she was still nervous.  What if she didn’t kiss well?  What if her breath smelled?  What if Elias wasn’t attracted to her once he saw her naked?  What is she did something wrong and—

“Svea?”

“Elias?”

“Are you really nervous like me?” he asked sheepishly.

She nodded her head.  She could almost feel her insides trembling as much as she was on the outside.  “Maybe we should start kissing.”

Elias nodded his head.  “Kissing is a good start.”

They stepped towards each other until they were chest-to-chest.  Elias brought his hands up slowly to cup Svea’s face before he craned his neck down.  Their first kiss was soft, their lips barely touching before Elias pulled away slightly to make sure it was okay with Svea.  When she saw the look in his eyes and she nodded her head, he continued, deeper this time, and they continued like that for a while, kissing as Elias cupped her face.  

It was Svea who first dragged her tongue against his bottom lip, and he pulled back momentarily.  He looked at her.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded quickly.  “And, um, Elias…”

“What is it?”

“You can—you can touch me places besides my face.”

Elias nodded his head nervously.  “Okay.  Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“Are your hips okay?”

“Everywhere is okay.”

He nodded again, their lips coming together again with Svea’s tongue automatically snaking its way into Elias’s mouth.  He began to do the same, his hands dragging down her sides and settling on her hips, pulling her body against his even more.  

This felt nice to her.  Everything with Elias felt right.  Was this what she had been missing out on these past few years with boys?  Svea mentally punched herself for not doing this sooner.  Well, not doing this sooner with Elias.  His lips were so soft, and they moved so in tune with hers.  His hands traveled up her back underneath her t-shirt from her hips, making her shiver slightly.  She liked how his hands felt against her skin as they grazed higher and higher, eventually meeting the bralette she was wearing.  She moved her own hands down to the hem of his pants before tugging on the bottom of his t-shirt.  “Can I take off your shirt?” she mumbled against his lips.  

Elias didn’t say anything – he just helped her tug off his shirt before his hands went to the hem of hers and he pulled hers off as well.  As her top was discarded to the side, she looked at him looking at her exposed body.  He’d seen her with this much exposed skin before – in a bathing suit though – but this time was obviously different.  This time was much more intimate.  He feasted on the site before him, breathing heavily as he noticed the goosebumps on her skin.  He looked her in the eyes and didn’t speak a word – but in that look, she knew he was telling her she was beautiful.  He began kissing her again, wanting to feel her entire body with his hands and beginning to undertake that mission.  

Svea tiled her head back and took in the sensation of Elias’s hands wandering all over her body, and suddenly she could feel his lips on her neck, putting her into another state of exhilaration.  He kissed all the way down to her collarbone while she sunk her nails into the skin of his back.  She let out a small moan as Elias sucked on her neck, not knowing that simple act could pour so much passion and energy into a person.  Her hands grazed the waistband of his sweatpants.  She could feel his breath hitch in his throat.

“Is that okay?” she asked, to which he nodded his head.  She pushed them down gently, leaving him standing in his underwear.  His hands mimicked hers.  She stepped out of her pants and was now left in only her bralette and underwear.  “Can we lie down on the bed?” she asked, not even bothering to wait for his answer before she sat down on the bed.

Elias looked down at Svea, and he couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face.  “Oh my God…” he mumbled to himself.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, a worried look on her face.

“Your lips are so red from all the kissing.  I kind of feel bad,” Elias giggled.

Svea couldn’t help but giggle as well as she brought her hand up quickly to feel her lips.  They didn’t feel any more swollen, but what did she know?  This was her first time, after all.  She still had a burning question on her mind though.  “Does—Does it feel okay?  Do you like it?” she asked timidly.

Elias looked at her as if she were crazy.  “You mean you can’t tell?” he asked, looking down to his lap.  

Svea snorted at his crassness, shaking her head at him as they continued to giggle.  Better giggling with your best friend in bed, she thought, rather than having anxiety and being uncomfortable with someone else.  “Kiss me, Elias,” she smiled, and Elias was all too happy to comply.  

They started by lying beside each other, kissing some more as Elias felt her up through her bralette and she palmed his hard-on through his boxers, but soon enough Elias was on top of her, and she could feel his entire body against hers.  She felt like she was on fire – but in a good way; like a jolt of electricity had just shocked her.  The best part of the experience was that she was doing everything subconsciously.  She wasn’t thinking, for once – she was just doing.  It gave her confidence to know that despite a lifetime of inaction, somehow her body knew what to do with how she was feeling.  Nothing was forced.  Everything felt natural, like it was supposed to be happening, and supposed to be happening only with Elias.  

Then, he helped her take off her bralette.

Then, she helped him pull down his boxers.

Then, he helped her pull down her underwear.

“Did you get the condom from your brother’s room?” she whispered, and Elias nodded his head.  He rolled off of her momentarily to reach over to the bedside table and grab it, opening the package and taking it out.  “Do you need help?” she asked again, her breath heavy.

“I think I’ll be okay,” he said.  She tried to give him some privacy by looking away, but she was too intrigued and ended up just staring.  She hoped he didn’t feel embarrassed or anything – it was more of an education for both of them, really.

When he was finished, he kissed her again before getting back on top of her.  “Svea…”

“Yes Elias?”

“If you ever want to stop, we can stop, okay?”

Svea nodded.  “Okay.”

“Like if it hurts – we can stop.  It’s not gonna be awkward if we stop.  So just tell me.”

“Okay.  Okay.”

He entered her slowly.  It felt like nothing Svea had ever felt before, and she didn’t even know how to describe it – only that it felt right.  There were no other words she could use.  He pushed in a little bit further and there was a little bit of pain.  She closed her eyes and winced.

“Svea?” Elias’s frantic whisper made her open her eyes.  “Svea are you okay?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” she said unconvincingly.

“Am I hurting you?”

She couldn’t lie to him, so she nodded her head slightly.  “But it’s okay.”

“I can stop—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off.  “It’s okay, Elias.  Just keep going.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.  Don’t worry.”

He kept pushing.  He hated to see the winces on her face so he decided to give her light kisses in hopes of easing the pain.  When he was fully inside of her, they both stayed still to adjust to the new feeling.  They were barely breathing, but had locked eyes with one another.  “I love you, Svea,” he whispered tenderly.  

They said those three words to each other all the time, because they did – they did love each other.  What kind of love that was still remained to be seen, but because there were so many different types of love, Svea and Elias knew they loved each other in certain ways.  It was why Svea had absolutely no hesitation in responding to him.  “I love you too, Elias.”

As he looked into her eyes and she gave a slight nod of her head, he began moving in and out of her slowly, making sure he wasn’t hurting her or going too fast.  Soon, instead of pain she began to feel pleasure, and it felt good, and she began to try to move in sync with his body.  She could hear Elias grunt slightly as she did so, and she thought that he must be feeling some pleasure too, to make that noise – well at least she hoped.  “Does it feel okay?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Elias nodded his head dramatically.  “You feel really good.”

“I do?”

“Yeah…it…fuck, you just feel really good,” he said.  She brought her hands up to cup his face.  “Does it feel good for you too?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“I want to make sure it feels good for you,” he admitted.  “Will…will you tell me?”

Svea nodded and Elias kissed her again, continuing to move in and out of her and making her feel good.  Their soft moans became more laboured and heavier, and Svea could feel herself getting close.  What her friends had always told her would happen was happening, and she almost didn’t know how to cope with the feeling.  “Elias…Elias…”

“Are you close?”

“Keep going, Elias,” she closed her eyes, ready for the feeling to take over her.

“Look at me.”

She was shocked by his request, but she opened her eyes to find him staring at her.  “I love you,” he told her again, and every inch of her body – from the blonde hairs atop her head to the tips of her toes – knew he meant it.

“I love you too.”

Svea felt a wave of pleasure wash over, and she arched her back and moaned out as it overtook her entire body.  She felt Elias pulsating inside of her, and the desperate noises he was making, along with the heavy breathing and the trembling of his body as he buried his head into the crook of her neck meant she knew he’d just experienced the same thing.  

He collapsed on top of her gently, his body still shaking as he tried to regain his breath.  She wrapped her arms around him and tried to remember how this all felt – the feeling of his lips on hers; the feeling of his hands all over her body; the feeling of his hand on her breasts; the feeling of him inside her, which she knew would end soon when he’d have to pull out and they’d have to clean up.  Selfishly, she wanted this moment to last forever.  It was the sweetest, softest, most incredible thing she’d experienced in her short life.

Elias pushed himself up slightly, just enough so he was able to look her in the eye.  “Did it feel good?” he asked.

Svea nodded her head.  “It was the best feeling I’ve ever felt.”

“Me too,” Elias admitted.  “I…I just wanted to make sure it felt good for you.  I wouldn’t have cared if I didn—”

She couldn’t help but raise her head to kiss him to get him to shut up.  She didn’t want him to ramble in this moment.  He readily reciprocated the kiss, eventually pulling out of her and laying on his side.  They kissed for a few moments longer before Svea pulled away.  “Should we clean up?”

Elias seemed a bit taken aback by the question.  “Uh, yeah, of course,” he said, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t.  “But um, afterwards…can we—do you want to keep kis—I mean, do you want to stay tonight?”

When they cuddled afterwards – after cleaning up, and after Elias methodically disposed of the condom so nobody in his family would find out – Svea put on some of his old clothes and slipped into his bed.  Elias followed close behind, wearing a pair of a boxers and an old t-shirt, and he cuddled up to her automatically.  

Elias and Svea fell asleep like that, and when Emil got home that night and checked Elias’s bedroom to make sure he was home and saw them cuddled in the bed together, he smiled to himself.  

When Svea woke up the next morning, Elias was using her chest as a pillow.  And when he woke up after feeling her move, he gave her one last kiss before hearing all the noise in the kitchen.  They went about their day normally.  His parents didn’t think anything of it because Svea slept over so often; neither did her parents, really.  They just smiled and fed her breakfast and treated her like family, as they always did.  She and Elias always acknowledged what happened with each other (they didn’t tell a soul what happened – no friends, no family, nobody) but didn’t make a big deal out of it.  There was no reason to.  They’d done it out of love, out of some curiosity, but mostly out of love.  It didn’t complicate things.  If anything, it reinforced their love for one another – that they could do something so intimate, and experience it for the first time together, and not have it change things between them.

“What are you thinking about?” Elias’s soft mumble surprised her.  His eyes were still closed but she could feel his legs move slightly, brushing up against hers.

“Ånge,” she lied – only slightly.

“Do you miss it?”

“Yeah,” she said softly.  She missed not having to worry about Elias getting a concussion or injured in hockey.  She missed how simple their lives were when they were sixteen and thought to themselves one night, “let’s have sex”.  

“We’ll be home soon,” he said, finally opening his eyes.  They were so sleepy as they looked right into hers, and he shifted so he could pull her body closer to his.  “I know that you miss your mom and dad and that you miss Sigrid.  I’m sure you miss Sundsvall too.  Being by the water.  When we stay at my place I know that’s your favourite part.  It’s why I bought it.”

She felt a shiver run up her spine at his words.  He’d never told her that before.  “Do you ever get sick of me, Elias?”

“Never,” he replied automatically, nestling his head down so it was almost in the crook of her neck.

“Not even when I’m stressed about university?”

“Never.”

“Not even when you have to drive me around places because I’m scared of driving in Vancouver?”

“Never.”

“Not even when we spend time together in Ånge, then in Sundsvall, then in Stockholm, and we’re like, always together, even in the same room, all the time?”

“Never.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because we’re the same, Svea,” he said, like it was so simple.  “We’re an extension of the other.  And if you can’t be in the same room with yourself – if you can’t be with yourself all the time, then who can you be with?”

Another shiver ran up her spine – more powerful this time – and Elias could tell because yet again, he tightened his grip around her.  He rested his lips on the exposed part of her skin where her neck met her shoulder and kissed her lightly.  She looked down at him.  “For the record, I never get sick of you either,” she said.

“Good,” he said.  “Because I’m dragging you with me everywhere.”

“Oh yeah?  And where are we going?”

“Upstairs to get coffee.”

Svea giggled as Elias rose from his position, looking down at her as his hair fell in front of his face.  It was only then that should could smell the distinct aroma of the coffee he mentioned.  He didn’t bother brushing his hair, instead settling with just pushing it back with his hands.  Svea took a hairband and put half of her hair up in a messy bun before she followed Elias up the stairs.  Luckily, they came face to face with Brock and Grace as they were pouring themselves the first batch of coffee.  

“Where’s everyone else?” Svea asked, even though she was grateful for the quietness they had now.

“Still sleeping, probably too hungover to get up this early,” Grace whispered, handing Svea the cup of coffee she just poured.  “Want to come out on the deck with me?”

“Of course.”

The girls went out on the deck and sat at the table; the last thing heard being Brock chirping Elias about how bad his hair looked.  “Did you guys have a good sleep?” Grace asked.

Svea nodded her head.  “Thanks for putting us down there.”

Grace gave her a knowing nod.  “I knew, don’t worry.”  She paused as she took a sip of her coffee.  “So you and Elias…” she began.

Svea knew immediately where the conversation was headed.  Although Svea loved Grace she wasn’t going to tell her what he’d said to her that morning.  It was a personal moment not meant to be shared.  Grace had been telling her for months that it was clear Elias felt something different, but Svea wasn’t so sure.  He’d always acted the same around her, so she honestly couldn’t tell.  “Still nothing, Grace.”

“You guys are going to be the death of me,” she was exasperated.  “Do you honestly think he feels nothing for you?”

Svea shook her head.  “I know that Elias loves me,” she began.  “That’s not a question.  But does he love me the way you’re implying?  I don’t know.  We’ve known each other for so long, Grace.  We’ve been through everything together.  It’s different when you literally grow up with someone.  But like…dating?  Romantic love?  We’re only twenty-one.  I don’t know if Elias even wants that with me.”  She paused to fiddle with her hands.  “Besides, I think Kyla is really into him.”

“Kyla and McKenna werent’t even supposed to be here.  And if Kyla tries something with Elias, I will throw her into the lake,” Grace deadpanned.  Svea couldn’t help but laugh.  Grace reached over and placed her hand on Svea’s forearm.  “Svea, come on.  If you think Elias doesn’t want that with you, you’re wrong.”

Svea looked at the window, seeing the boys talking about something while standing next to the stove.  She could only imagine how much Brock was chirping Elias about his hair – he probably hadn’t stopped.  Sometimes, at night, she truly did wonder if Elias saw her in any other way besides his best friend – if he saw her as a romantic interest, as a partner – hell, sometimes even just as a woman.  But she tried not to dwell on those thoughts for too long, because she knew they’d overtake her more rational thoughts eventually, and then she’d have a mess on her hands.  Elias, in many ways, was her everything, and more than anything, she wondered if she was his everything too.

*

“So you and Svea…” Brock began, his voice low so no-one upstairs would overhear, and so Svea and Grace outside couldn’t hear him either.  Even though he would love to see them together, and thought they were taking their sweet ass time (obviously) and were made for each other (obviously), he wanted to stay out of it and let things happen naturally.  If there was one thing he knew about Petey, it was to not force him into things.  Grace had other ideas.  She wanted Brock to help her get to the bottom of it.  She wanted to know all the details.  And, well, Brock loved his girlfriend, so here he was.

“What about it?” Elias asked.

“Bud, you can’t stand there and tell me there’s nothing between you.”

Elias sighed.  “I don’t want to get into it.”

“That’s great, ‘cause I do.  You mean to tell me nothing happened last night?”

Elias gave Brock one of his infamous death stares.  He knew Brock wouldn’t let it go and that they death stare had no use.  He shook his head slightly.  “No, nothing happened last night.  I don’t want to risk it.”

“Risk what?”

“Losing her.”

Brock furrowed his brows.  “What on earth makes you think you’d lose her?  Do you honestly think she doesn’t have feelings for you?”

“We’ve grown up together, Brock.  It’s different.  I know Svea loves me.  She’s been there for me through everything, through all the hockey, and she never complained once,” Elias shook his head again.  “I can’t be selfish and demand this from her too.  Besides, I don’t know if she wants that with me.  It…I…just…I love her, Brock – in all the ways a person can love another person, but—”

“But do you love her romantically?” Brock asked.

Elias paused.  His mouth dropped open, about to say his answer that he knew definitively in his heart, until out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure.  He looked over to his right to see Kyla stretching at the foot of the stairs, her pyjama t-shirt riding up to expose her midriff.  It was very obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra.  “Good morning,” she cooed after she finished her stretch, looking directly at Elias.  

Brock looked like he was about to punch a wall.  Elias looked away from what she was trying to show off.  “Good morning.”

“Is that coffee I smell?” she asked, walking into the kitchen.  

“Just made,” Brock said, his voice monotone.  “Are the others up?”

“McKenna’s just about to come down,” she said, stepping in between Elias and Brock.  Brock left the situation.  She peeked up at Elias through her eyelashes.  “Have a good sleep?” she asked.

“The best.”

“Is it cold in the basement?” she asked, her voice low so only Elias could hear her.  “Need some warming up?”

Her forwardness really did scare him.  “It’s not cold down there when Svea’s there,” he said.

Kyla’s face immediately dropped.  Before she could try to flirt some more, Grace and Svea walked back in from the back deck.  Svea was almost immediately looking at Elias, trying to survey the situation.  “Should we start breakfast?” Grace asked, moving past Kyla towards the fridge.  Grace gave her a death stare for being so close to Elias.  “What do you want to work on?”

As more of the guests made their way down the stairs, every chose a job to do – Svea and Elias worked on the bacon; Brock and Grace the scrambled eggs; Kyla made toast; Marcus worked on setting the table; Brayden made the sausages; Brett and Parker cut up fruit.  McKenna and Hallie made more coffee.  Breakfast was ready in no time.  

When everybody began to sit around the table, Svea was shocked to see Kyla sit beside her.  “So Brock told us you live in Vancouver, too,” she said, smiling.  “Whereabouts?”

“Oh, um, Yaletown.  Same as Brock and Elias,” she said, omitting the face that she lived with him.

“Oh my God, that’s so cool,” Kyla put some scrambled eggs onto her plate.  Svea knew she didn’t really care.  “And how do you know Elias?”

Svea knew Kyla cared about that, so she gave into the questioning because she knew everyone else in the house save for Brock, Grace, and Elias would think she was a bitch if she didn’t.  “We met when we were three – we grew up together in Sweden.”

“And then you followed him to Vancouver?”

“No no no,” Svea shook her head vehemently.  She could see Elias smile as he settled in on the edge of the bench beside her.  “Elias followed me.”

“Elias followed you?”

“Svea always wanted to go to UBC because her mom is originally from Vancouver,” Grace piped in, stuffing a piece of strawberry into her mouth.  “Svea got accepted first.  Then Petey was drafted, but stayed in Sweden for a year.  Then he signed with the Canucks and the rest is history.”

“Svea could have told me, Grace,” Kyle said teasingly as she gave a look to Svea.  “You’re so quiet, girl.  Speak up a bit.”

“Svea speaks when she wants to,” Grace quipped again.  “And more importantly, when she needs to.”

When breakfast was over, everybody showered, got ready, and changed into their bathing suits before heading outside for another day out on the water and patio.  Brock commandeered his boat and suggested some wakeboarding and other watersports out on the lake.  In the smaller boat, Brayden, Brett, Parker, and Hallie followed them out onto the lake.  There was no way Svea would wakeboard, but she knew Elias liked it.  She opted to take photos and videos of Elias doing so instead.  His parents were going to kill him.

They were out having fun on the water for so long – diving off the boat, swimming, wakeboarding, tanning, drinking, relaxing, talking – that nobody noticed they didn’t have lunch.  They just kept up their activities, with Elias wakeboarding a few times, followed by Brock while Marcus commandeered the boat.  Parker did a few cool flips while he wakeboarded.  It was hot, the sun was shining, and Svea was having the time of her life.  For those hours they were out on the lake, what Elias had said to her that morning in bed, and what Kyla had said and done (and continued to say and do) didn’t matter; she was just a girl out on a boat with her friends, and life couldn’t get any better.  

But then, of course, reality set back in.  More hours isolated on the boat meant more drinking.  Not from Svea, of course, because she knew her limit and because she didn’t want to get drunk in front of, statistically, more people she didn’t know than did; and not from Brock or Brett, because they had to drive the damn boats; but from the others – Marcus, before he drove the boat; and Grace, because she wanted to have fun; and Kyla, because she was Kyla; and McKenna, because Svea had no clue anymore because it wasn’t like McKenna spoke three words to her since the moment she got there.  

Svea was expecting nothing when everyone wanted to take one last dip in the lake before they went back to the house.  So when they all stood at the edge of the boat, and when Brock was finished taking the Instagram picture for Kyla of all of them with their hands around each other’s backs, they all jumped.  Svea hit the water hard and deep, like divers usually did, but something felt different.  Something felt…off.  And when she emerged from the water, wiping her eyes and trying to figure out what it was, it hit her like a tonne of bricks.  

Where was her top?

She felt everything in her stop.  When Elias emerged from the water and looked around to find her, the first thing he noticed was the petrified look on her face.  “Svea?” he asked.

“Yooooohooooo!” McKenna’s giggles were loud.  Svea turned around to face everybody else: Grace, Kyla, Marcus, Brayden, Brett, Parker, Hallie, and McKenna, only to see McKenna waving her bathing suit top above her head.  Svea’s bathing suit top.  

She was absolutely mortified.  

She screamed out in fear, finally having the wherewithal to cover her exposed breasts by hugging herself.  Kyla’s laughs and enthusiastic woos filled her mind as McKenna whipped it around like a lasso, like it was some prize they’d won.  In a way, it was: she’d won in making Svea feel completely embarrassed and uncomfortable and humiliated.  

“What the hell McKenna!  Give it back!” she heard Brock scream from the boat.  Svea watched as Elias swam over to McKenna and snatch the top out of her hands.  Grace looked like she was going to perform a ritualistic murder right then and there.  

“Oh come on!  It’s just a little bit of fun!” McKenna tried to defend herself.

“It’s how you get christened in Minnesota!” Kyla added.  “Everybody knows that!”

Svea tried not to focus on them anymore; they would defend themselves to the last second before the door dropped for the noose, so there wasn’t any point in listening.  Instead, she tried to focus on calming her emotions that she knew would bubble over – the tears that were threatening to escape, the flush of red to her cheeks, the nervous shaking from all the embarrassment of these girls and these men probably seeing her practically naked body underneath the water before she even realized what was going on.  She tried to focus on Elias, swimming back to her with her bathing suit top in his hands.  “Elias…” she said her voice extremely shaky.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he cooed, swimming up to cover her before handling the bikini top, trying to figure out which part went over her head.  She grabbed it from him to try to help.  “I got you, it’s okay.”

“Elias I’m so embarrassed,” she cried, her hands trembling too much to do it.  “I can’t—I can’t—”

“Here, let me,” he mumbled, taking the top back from her.

“Could they see everything?  Be honest.”

“No.  You can’t see anything in lake water Svea,” he said quickly.  

She knew he was probably lying to her – the lake water was clear as fucking day.  “Elias—”

“It’s okay—”

“Elias I’m mortified.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he kept repeating, putting the top back on over her head before turning her around without warning so he could tie it for her.  “You’re okay, Svea.  You’re okay.”

“Everybody saw my boobs Elias,” she cried again, still clutching onto them through her bikini top like they were going to fall out again.  He wrapped an arm around her and began swimming back to the boat.  “Only you’ve ever seen my boobs.”

Elias looked at her when she said the last sentence.  She couldn’t discern the look on his face.  “And it stayed that way,” he said.  “Nobody saw, Svea.  The water was all…wavy.”

Elias let her climb back onto the boat first, where Brock was ready with an open towel for her.  “Here you go, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping her in it.

“Thanks, Brock.”

He absolutely hated hearing the defeat and embarrassment in her voice.  “Grace will take care of Kyla and McKenna, don’t worry,” he said quickly as everybody else began climbing up the ladder and back onto the boat.  

The first thing McKenna did when she got back on the boat – even before drying herself off, which was what you were supposed to do – was finish off her beer.  Grace glared at her once she finally grabbed a towel.  “You need to apologize,” Grace said firmly, looking right at McKenna.  “What you did was so mean.”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t a big deal,” McKenna rolled her eyes.  Svea wondered if that was the alcohol talking or if McKenna was really like this.  She couldn’t imagine Brock being friends with someone like her.  But then she remembered that Kyla and McKenna weren’t even supposed to be here this weekend, and it all sort of made sense.  Maybe they were friends of friends, and Brock was too nice to say no.  Maybe he knew them only casually, and they tagged along unannounced to take advantage of being at an NHL player’s house for the weekend.  

“It was a big deal to Svea,” Grace continued, her voice still firm.  Grace looked at her to see her face still sullen.

“It’s fine,” Svea mumbled out, Elias’s arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder as she sat on his lap.  She didn’t want to cause any trouble, regardless.  She was a guest at Brock’s house as much as McKenna was, and didn’t want or need the added attention on her.

“I’m sooooorrryyyy, Svea,” McKenna laughed through her apology.  “But you’re considered a Minnesotan now, so take that a bonus.”

Svea didn’t respond.  She just nodded her head down and nestled further onto Elias, letting her head lean against his as Brock navigated back to the house.  McKenna and Kyla didn’t have a care in the world as they continued to talk to each other the entire way back, shooting a few looks her way throughout the journey back.  They disembarked the boat first before running into the house.  Brock helped Svea get off the boat, where she immediately went down to the basement to take a shower.  She felt like she had to get all the lake grime off of her before everybody started prepping for dinner.

As she changed into regular clothes and stood in front of the mirror trying to French braid her hair, she heard the hustle and bustle from upstairs.  She tried to pay it no mind until she began to hear voices – all too familiar voices.  

“Petey is so hot and cold, don’t you think?” Kyla voice was a bit muffled, but it definitely sounded more sober than what it sounded like half an hour ago when she issued her fake apology.  Svea stood silent.  Maybe eavesdropping wasn’t the most noble of things to do, but she was going to do it anyway.  “I don’t know if he even registers that I’m flirting with him.”

“I think that alien is hot for only one person here, and that’s Svea,” she heard McKenna retort.  

“You think so?”

“You don’t see the way he looks at her all the time?  They’re even sleeping in the same bed.”

“Yeah, but Brock said they grew up together in Sweden—”

“So?” McKenna retorted.  “That ‘she’s like my little sister’ line guys always pull is bullshit.  And Petey didn’t even say that about her.  They’re best friends.  Well, best friends.  You know what that’s code for.”

“Well, hopefully by the end of the weekend he’ll have a new best friend,” Kyla chirped.

“Listen, if anybody in this house could pull it off, it’s you,” McKenna encouraged her.  “He was eyeing you in your bikini yesterday.  I mean, you’re much more appealing that way than she is.  Every guy loves a good flirt.  Just use what you’ve got and I’m sure he’ll open up to it.  Only problem is Svea’s gonna have to sleep on the couch when you do.”

The girls giggled and Svea could feel her blood boil.  Elias wasn’t hers by any means, and she didn’t own him in any way, shape, or form, but Elias was hers.  In every sense, he was hers, and she was getting angry at herself for getting angry at these girls for wanting him.  Who was she to stop him from getting what he wanted if he really wanted Kyla?  And who was she to cry and be upset about it when Elias was a grown man and she was a grown woman capable of making their own decisions about who they liked and who they slept with?  She quickly fastened the end of her French braid with an elastic and wiped away the angry tears that fell, trying hard not to cry so she wouldn’t go back upstairs with red eyes.  She’d already been embarrassed once today; she didn’t need to be embarrassed again.  

She waited a few minutes until her emotions subsided before she walked back upstairs.  Almost everybody had congregated in the kitchen.  She saw Elias sitting outside on the deck.  Kyla was already all over him, pressed up against him.  She didn’t quit.  Svea had to at least admire her persistence.

*

That night, after dinner and drinking and drinking games and loud music and laughing and singing and even some drunken dancing, Svea watched as Kyla plopped herself into Elias’s lap as they all sat in Adirondack chairs around the firepit near the water.  Grace bought boxes of smores kits and they were wrapping them in foil for everyone to toast over the fire.  The boys were still drinking and finishing off the rest of the beers; Kyla was finishing hers as she sat on Elias’s lap.  Kyla was looking into Elias’s eyes as she sat on Elias’s lap.  Kyla was giggling and flirting as she sat on Elias’s lap.  Kyla wiggled her butt suggestively as she sat on Elias’s lap.

And as long as Kyla was going to sit on Elias’s lap, Svea couldn’t be there.

She wondered if Grace could see her almost constant glances in their direction.  She felt a rumbling in her stomach, probably from all the alcohol that was now mixing with the jealousy that roared in her belly.  A lethal combination for anyone, Svea thought, least for her, who’d grown up with him and watched him mature and was now watching as another girl was trying to take him from her, slipping him through her fingers like sand on a beach.  

“Can you save mine?  I just want to go to the washroom for a quick second,” Svea said as she stood up.

“Don’t be long.  There’s only so long I can wait to have chocolate,” she smiled and winked.

Svea walked the path up to Brock’s house and walked inside.  Luckily there was nobody else inside, so she was free to be alone – alone with her thoughts, her emotions, and the tears that threatened to spill, yet again.  Did she have a right to be jealous?  Did she have a right to feel these feelings for Elias and have them bubble up because of the persistent actions of another girl?  She didn’t know what to do.  She didn’t know what to think.  

Svea didn’t know how long she was in the house alone for.  But as she was lost in her thoughts, she heard the screen door open.  She looked up to see Elias.  He was glad he didn’t have to look hard to find her.  “Hi.”

“Hi Elias.”

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

Svea shrugged her shoulders.  “Just thinking.”  She used that answer a lot on him.  He was used to it.  The alternative to talking, which she expected Kyla did a lot of outside with him anyway.  He walked over and sat beside her on the couch – right beside her, leaving her no room.  He took her hand and held it in his.  Her brows furrowed slightly.  “Why’re your hands so clammy?” she asked.  

“Why do you think?” he asked.  “I had to spend twenty minutes outside with Kyla on my lap trying to get me hard.”

The jealousy roared in her belly again.  Here it was.  He came in to ask her the inevitable request for her to sleep on the couch tonight so he could bring Kyla down to the basement instead.  Grace would have to get her an extra blanket and pillow.  Her back would hurt tomorrow morning.  She’d have to wake up whenever the first person came down and offer to make coffee and—

“Are you here to ask me to sleep on the couch tonight?” Svea blurted out.

Elias furrowed his brows, looking at her like she had three heads.  “Why would I make you sleep on the couch?”

“Because you want to sleep with Kyla,” Svea said matter-of-factly.

Elias froze.  “Svea,” he deadpanned.

“Elias?”

“Svea, you’re the smartest person I know, but you can be incredibly dumb sometimes.”

Svea was taken aback by his words.  He often teased her like this, maintaining that she often didn’t see things that were right in front of her.  Maybe it was one of her many faults, along with so many other things she was learning about herself this weekend, perhaps the worst being how possessive she was over him.  “What do you mean?”

“Svea—” Elias tried to begin, but he couldn’t find the right words.  He sighed before continuing.  “Do you remember that night in Ånge where my brother rented all the Austin Powers movies and we spent the entire night watching them?”

“Yes…”

“Well here’s a line for you,” he said, trying to remember it word for word.  “If I was the last man on earth, and she was the last woman on earth, and the future of the human race depended on our having sex to keep the population going, I still would not sleep with Kyla.”

Svea’s breath hitched in her throat.  “But Elias—”

“How could you honestly think I’d want to have sex with her?”

“She’s into you.  And she’s pretty, Elias, and tanned, and fit…and she’s—”

“No, Svea,” he interrupted her firmly.  “I would have rather had you on my lap out there.  You know that.”

“I can’t get you hard,” Svea mumbled.

Elias smiled amusingly at her words.  “You don’t think so?”

She didn’t appreciate him mocking her.  She rolled her eyes at him and his attempt to make light of this situation.  “Elias—”

“Svea, you’ve been getting me hard since we were sixteen and we were each other’s first,” he finally confessed, albeit a bit crassly.  It wasn’t the way he wanted it to be out in the open, but right now, there was no turning back.

The words hung in the air as they looked each other in the eye.  Svea couldn’t believe what had just come out of his mouth.  Elias was always honest with her, always, so to say that she was shocked he’d just admitted that out loud was an understatement.  Elias was a quiet guy, always, and she was a quiet girl, always, and that was…new.  “Are…are you s-serious, Elias?” she stuttered out. 

“I would never lie to you, Svea,” he said.  “Now can you come back outside and sit on my lap?”

*

When Elias and Svea walked outside, he brought her directly onto the dock, right to the end so they were looking out at the lake.  She made eye contact with three people on the way there: Brock, who sent a wink her way when he noticed the two of them together; Grace, who sent her own wink and wiggled her eyebrows; and Kyla, who sent her a death stare when she noticed Elias was holding her hand to guide her through the relative darkness.  When they finally reached the end of the dock, Svea saw one of Brock’s Adirondack chairs and a blanket.  Elias adjusted it so it faced the lake.  Svea looked back towards the backyard; everyone was dispersed in their own little groups, allowing them the alone time and privacy Elias apparently wanted.

“What are you looking at?” Elias asked quietly, trying to preserve the tranquility of the dusk.  

“Nothing,” she brushed him off.  She wasn’t going to tell him she was making sure Kyla wasn’t stomping down the dock to join them.  

“Then come sit.”

When she looked back at him over her shoulder, he was already sitting on the Adirondack chair, unfolding the blanket.  It was a scene Svea had encountered countless times before – in Sundsvall, specifically, on the balcony of his apartment when they’d go out at night and look out at the water and the lights of the city across the Bothnian Sea.  She moved to sit on his lap, settling into him as he wrapped an arm around her and lay the blanket over them.  He draped his other arm across her lap while the one around her back snuck underneath her shirt, rubbing the skin at the small of her back.  When he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, his nose and lips grazing her skin, a shiver ran up her spine.  She was sure he could tell.

She began to remember the things he’d said since they got to Minnesota: how he always worried about her, about how they were an extension of each other, how he bought his apartment in Sundsvall because he knew being by the water was her favourite.  And now, with the comment said not even five minutes ago about her getting him hard since they were sixteen.  She thought about the implications of it all, and what it meant for her – what it meant for them, really, because she agreed with what he said about being an extension of each other.  

She was apparently lost in her thoughts – too lost for a few moments, because when she finally came to, she felt his lips graze the skin between her shoulder and neck.  “What are you doing, Elias?” she asked, her voice as quiet as his was before.

He didn’t answer.  Instead, they made eye contact and he looked at her for a few moments before leaning in and kissing her.  Like everything Elias did, he was perfect at it.  Soft lips, a passionate touch, and a tenderness nobody else could duplicate.  Much like when they were sixteen, she didn’t want it to end.  But when it did, with Elias pulling away first so he could look her in the eyes again, there was something else to be said.  “I love you.”

They were words Svea had heart countless times before – countless – but this time, it felt different.  Completely different.  She froze slightly.  “You love me, Elias?”

“Of course I love you.”

“No, Elias,” she bit her lip.  “You, like…love me?”

“Yes, Svea,” he said, his hand traveling further up her back.  “If you ever want to thank Kyla for one thing, it’s for making me realize how much I love you, and how long I’ve loved you for, because all her attention made me realize that I only want that kind of attention from you, that I only want you, and nobody else, and the thought of being with anyone else, or the thought of you being with anyone else makes me sick to my stomach.”

She felt a rush of blood to her cheeks as she blushed.  How long had she been waiting for him to hear those words and she didn’t even know?  How long had she wanted him to say those words to her, deep down inside somewhere within her?  Had she known this entire time and just not realize it?  Had she felt the same this entire time too and just didn’t verbalize it?  She couldn’t help but think he was being a bit of a drama queen about it though.  “You brought me all the way to Brock’s house in Minnesota to tell me this?”

Elias giggled like a schoolgirl.  “I guess I did.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I never said I was smart like you,” he said.  “Remember when all the kids in class would call me space boy and alien boy because they said I looked like an alien?”

“You do look like an alien.”

Elias nudged her.  She laughed before snuggling back into him.  “If I’m the alien, you’re the stars, Svea.”

She smiled.  This time, it was her that moved to kiss him, doing it by her own accord and with such conviction she surprised even herself.  It was like she was sixteen all over again, except she wasn’t; she was still Elias’s best friend; still the most important person in his life; still getting him hard, apparently.  Yet now, she was twenty-one – older, somewhat wiser; a university student, not some precocious high schooler; living in Vancouver, not in Ånge; having Elias telling her he loved her – loved her loved her – not just as friends.  That he made clear.  And although she was still coming to terms with it, and still couldn’t really wrap her head around it, at least her body was reacting to the news appropriately, much like her body had reacted appropriately all those years ago in Ånge, when she came up with the brilliant idea they’d acted on.  

The only thing that could interrupt their kissing was Brock screaming at the top of his lungs.  As Elias and Svea pulled apart, they watched as Brock ran down the dock in only his boxers, somersaulting into the lake like some sort of Olympic diver.  They couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he came back up, whipping his hair to the side so it was out of his eyes.  

“Brock!” Grace yelled, grimacing as she ran after him.  “You’re going to smell like a wet dog!”

*

Tanner had passed out on the bathroom floor, and everybody decided to leave him there just in case.  Marcus faceplanted into the couch, saying he couldn’t deal with stairs.  Brock said the dive into the lake sobered him up, so Grace dragged him up the stairs into their bedroom.  McKenna and Kyla were the first to shut their bedroom door, but not before Kyla gave one last look at Elias’s arms wrapped around Svea and wishing she was in that position.  

When they descended down into the basement together, Svea could barely get a word in edgewise before Elias shut the door and his lips found hers again.  No less passionate and no less soft, his hands attached themselves to her hips, almost immediately finding their way underneath her top while his tongue slipped into her mouth.  His hands felt warm against her skin but they still sent shivers down her spine.  She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back so it wouldn’t tickle her like it sometimes did.  

He guided her towards the bed.  When the backs of her legs hit the edge, Elias’s hands traveled higher.  Svea’s breath hitched in her throat as his fingers traced the edges of her bralette.  He noticed and stopped kissing her.  “You’re not scared, are you?” he asked hesitantly.  

“No no no,” she whispered as she shook her head.  “Just…nervous.”

“Why would you be nervous?”

“I…don’t know,” Svea said.  She did know why.  She just didn’t want to say it out loud and risk embarrassing herself.  “I…I haven’t been with anybody besides you, Elias,” she finally admitted.  

He seemed sort of shocked for only a moment.  “You never did anything first year university when you were here alone?” he asked.

“No.  I couldn’t bring myself to.  I didn’t…I didn’t want to if it wasn’t you.”

Elias nodded his head.  He understood.  “Me too.”

Her brows furrowed.  “Me too what?”

“I haven’t been with anybody beside you,” he confessed.

Svea couldn’t hold back her shock like he could.  “What?  Not even in Vaxjo?  You were the star of the team,” she reasoned.  She found it hard to believe because there was no way – no way – that he didn’t get offers left, right, and centre while he was playing for them, especially during their championship run.

“I never…no,” he shook his head.  “I didn’t want to if it wasn’t you, either,” he used her own words.

Svea took a deep breath.  God, they were so stereotypical.  They were such losers.  A star hockey player and a first-year university student living away from home for the first time and they didn’t take advantage of their situations because they didn’t want to without each other.  “We’re so lame, Elias,” she deadpanned.

Elias couldn’t help but laugh at her words.  “I know, right?  We’re pathetic.”

“So pathetic.”

Elias gave her a quick kiss as they giggled.  “Svea?”

“Elias?”

“I love you.”

Svea smiled.  “I love you too.”

“Can I make up for lost time?  Can we make up for lost time?” he asked softly.

Svea took another deep breath.  Her hands rose to rub his chest as she nodded her head, momentarily forgetting the small little detail that they were at Brock’s house.  In the basement.  Just as Elias dipped down to continue kissing her, she brought her hands up to his lips.  “We’re at Brock’s house.”

Elias furrowed his brows.  “So?”

“Won’t it be a bit awkward?”

He laughed again.  “Svea, come on.  More awkward than doing it in the bed I slept in as a kid?”

“Elias!” she exclaimed, the both of them giggling uncontrollably.  “Well when you put it like that—”

Elias couldn’t wait any longer.  He dipped his head down so he could start kissing her again, his tongue slipping in with ease.  With his hands travelling higher and higher, he eventually helped tug her top off, letting it fall by their feet.  He could feel the goosebumps along her skin.  He could feel her tugging at his shirt, too, and helped with taking it off.  

When they moved to lie down on the bed, Elias made sure to kiss at Svea’s neck and collarbone.  The little sighs and gasps that escaped her was his fuel to keep going, travelling lower and lower until he reached her chest.  “What do you like?” his voice husky.  

That was a mute question.  Not only could Svea not think right now with Elias’s lips so close to her boobs, and it wasn’t like she had the experience to know what she liked and didn’t like so she could tell him.  “I—I don’t know.  Anything.”

“Anything?”

“It’s you, Elias.  Anything will feel good.”

He started to touch her more as his lips found her neck and clavicle again.  He could feel her back arch and her hips pushing into his as his lips got close to her breasts again.  When he pushed the material down and kissed a path down, he heard her sigh.  “Is that okay?”

“Yes yes yes,” she said quickly and successively, the sensation clearly new to her.

He continued his handiwork expertly, his tongue grazing along her exposed skin.  The mewls she let out almost drove him insane, and he could feel himself getting harder by the second.  He had waited for so long that he wasn’t sure if he was going to last as long as he wanted to and do all the things he wanted to do to her, with her.  He kissed a trail back up to her lips and his hands wandered down to her shorts, unbuttoning them as quickly as he could.  

When he slipped off her shorts, she worked on his.  “Do you have a condom, Elias?” she breathed out.

He did – he was prepared – but he froze momentarily.  “Of course, but—”

“But what?” she asked worriedly.

“No no,” he said, trying to backtrack.  “I’m not—it’s—I want to do so much,” he admitted.  

Svea shook her head.  “I can’t wait.  Please just…just—”

“Svea—”

“Please Elias, I just want you inside me right now,” she practically begged.  “We have all the time in the world to do so much.  I just want to feel you inside me.”

Elias didn’t need to be told twice.  He understood where she was coming from – he knew that, at least for him, he’d been waiting a long time to do this again, and although he wanted to savour the moment, he also didn’t want to waste any time.  So he came back up and rolled over slightly, reaching down into his bag and grabbing a string of condoms.  Svea couldn’t help but smile as she saw all the packages.  He leaned back on his knees and ripped the first one off and ripped it open.  Svea sat up to take it from his hands and help him roll it on.  She even pumped him a few times when she was finished, kissing him fervently.  

Maybe she had the right idea, to just go for it and not wait.  Because if she kept doing that, Elias knew he wasn’t going to last long.  

As she lay back down, Elias slipped off her underwear and loomed over her.  On instinct, one of his hands went to her thighs and she wrapped her legs around him.  His hand travelled from her thigh to her hot centre, and she flinched at his touch.  He couldn’t help but smile down at her at how sensitive she was.  “You okay, pretty girl?”

“I need you, Elias,” she huffed out.

When he entered her she cried out in pleasure.  He kissed her passionately as he pushed further and further in, and when he bottomed out, he made sure to give her time to adjust to his size.  Due to their confessions earlier, he knew it had been a while for her – a while for both of them – so he’d need to adjust too.  He’d almost forgotten how good she felt; how perfectly she fit around him.  It wasn’t like he dreamt about how she felt around him for four years now.  “You alright?” he asked quickly.

“You feel so good, Elias,” she said, her eyes still closed.  

“Does it hurt?” he asked quickly, wanting to make sure he wasn’t hurting her like he had the first time.

She shook her head and finally opened her eyes.  “No.  It feels good.  It feels…it feels right.”

Elias gave her a quick kiss.  He began moving in and out of her slowly, and she began to roll her hips in tune with his movements.  “I love you, Svea,” he whispered against her lips.

“I love you too, Elias.”

“When we get back to Vancouver I’m going to make love to you on every inch of our apartment,” he said.  “And then when we get back to my place in Sundsvall, there too.”

“You promise?” she asked, her smile cheeky, the possibility of making love to Elias over and over and over again giving her so much joy.  

“We have to make up for lost time, don’t we?” his smile became equally as cheeky.  “Besides, we need to live out the first-year university year and the Vaxjo year where we did fuck all because we’re so lame.”

The both of them giggled, and Svea remembered back to their first encounter at sixteen, where she thought it was better to laugh with your best friend in bed than to be nervous with somebody else.  She hoped that they’d continue to giggle; that they’d continue to laugh together during their most intimate moments.  She ran her nails up and down his back before digging them into his shoulder blades.  “Make love to me, Elias,” she bit her lip.

Elias did just that, increasing his pace as he moved in and out of her, his small grunts and her small moans filling the room.  After a while, when Svea felt herself getting close, she arched her back and brought Elias’s face down to kiss him.  “Cum with me.”

“You’re close?”

She nodded her head.  “I want you to cum with me, Elias.”

Elias couldn’t hold back.  She felt so good and there was no way he’d be able to last any longer, so he let go completely.  As she made him see stars, he felt her walls tighten around him.  She cried out in pleasure as she came with him, holding on to him tightly so she could feel his body pressed against hers.  She kept her limbs wrapped around him as he collapsed on top of her, trying to catch their breath.  She played with the hair at the nape of his neck as they both calmed down.  

“I love you so much,” he mumbled into her nape of her neck as his breathing finally began to steady.  “You have no idea Svea.”

“I think I do,” she responded softly.  

Elias pulled out and quickly ran to the washroom.  Svea – too hung up on trying to savour the feeling, and too tired to care – stayed in bed and watched him through droopy eyes.  When he came back, he slipped into bed and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.  As they drifted off to sleep, Svea couldn’t help but think that she was the luckiest girl in the world.  Elias, conversely, affirmed his own thoughts that he was the luckiest guy alive.

>< >< >< >< ><

Sunday

When Elias woke the next morning, he was using Svea’s chest as a pillow.  He didn’t remember how they got in that position, and truthfully, he didn’t care to.  All he cared about was the feeling of her skin beneath his touch, how her breathing was slow and steadied, and how one of her hands was conspicuously still at the nape of his neck, like she’d been playing with his hair all night.  Intoxicated by it all, he couldn’t help but graze his lips over her skin lightly, wanting to wake her up as slowly and peacefully as he could.  

His lips grazed and kissed along her collarbone, then moved up to her neck before dipping down again.  He could feel her move slightly, her foot dragging along his leg as she sighed slightly, finally opening her eyes.  “G’morning,” she mumbled, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Good morning, pretty girl,” he mumbled against her skin, craning his head up so he could kiss her on her lips.  

They gave each other long, lazy kisses for a while, until Elias moved down to her neck again, cupping her breast underneath the covers.  Svea moaned softly.  “We’re going straight into this, aren’t we?”

Elias gave her a quick kiss.  “Like I said last night, we have to make up for lost time,” he reasoned.  He’d spend the entire summer making up for lost time if he had to (read: wanted to).

She smiled.  Before she could say anything else, loud footsteps could be heard upstairs.  Elias groaned, because it meant people were up.  And if people were up, it meant they wouldn’t get the privacy he wanted to do what he wanted.  Svea giggled at his groans, which only made him do it louder.  “What the hell are they doing up so early?” he mumbled.

“I don’t think it’s early,” Svea said.  “I think it’s us.”  She looked over to her side to see the time on the alarm radio.  “It’s definitely us.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 9:30.”

Elias grumbled again.  Svea laughed and slipped out from underneath him, not taking her eyes off of him as he nestled back into bed.  “Elias?”

“Svea?”

“I love you.”

He smiled like a schoolboy – like he was a kid again and stole a cookie from the jar.  “I love you too, Svea.”

“You guys awake yet?!” Grace’s voice boomed down on them from the top of the stairs.  She was smart enough not to descend.  “Breakfast is almost ready and Brock won’t save you bacon, Petey!”

They gave each other one last kiss before quickly washing their faces and going upstairs.  Almost everybody was already seated around the table for breakfast, so they took their seats and filled their plates with the passed food.  Elias’s hand grazed Svea’s thighs underneath the table.  Svea tried not to let it show.

“What took you guys so long?” Hallie asked as she bit into a piece of toast.

“We were just talking,” Elias was purposely vague.

“What the fuck do you two even talk about?!  Neither of you talk!” Tanner exclaimed.  “You’re both so quiet!”

Elias smiled.  At any other point in the weekend, he probably would have gotten mad at the comment.  He probably would have gotten defensive or uptight or however he usually got when people told him he was so quiet and needed to talk more; he also would have been protective of Svea, who took those types of comments more personally, and called the other person a gaphals or something equally as Swedish in frustration because when he was frustrated he couldn’t find the English words for things as easily.  

But this time, things were different.  None of that mattered anymore.  Anybody could say whatever they wanted, make whatever observations they wanted about the two of them as people, but all that mattered, whether the outside world cared or not, was that he and Svea loved each other.  Simple as that.  It was corny, and it was cliched, but Elias didn’t care.

[mistymazzello]

Illicit Affairs | part two

Joe Mazzello x Reader

summary-Y/N, a failing actress in New York City, is offered an internship as Joe Mazzello’s assistant on the set of a movie. Her seemingly small crush on her boss could get her into trouble, but what does she have to lose?

word count- 2.3k

warnings- cussing

part one

based on illicit affairs by taylor swift

There was still one week left until shooting started, and you spent everyday at the office preparing. Filing papers, making phone calls, running around so that Joe could stay sane. On a particularly windy morning, the August heat still relentless, you jogged into the office building, three coffees in hand. 

You smiled a good morning at one of the writers as you passed, stepping out of the elevator. Hair covered half of your face from the harsh wind as you walked towards Joe’s office. You pushed it out of your face with your free hand as your heels lightly clicked against the tile floor. 

You gave one of the coffee’s to Julia, the producer who you had met on your first day. “Thank you, my love.” She blew you a kiss. You had recently learned she was 63, and had been producing movies since the 70s. She’s also one of the coolest people you’ve ever met.

The second coffee went to the head writer, who looked as if he’d been there all night. He seemed especially thankful for it.

“You’re late.” Beck said, catching up to walk beside you.

With furrowed eyebrows, you checked your watch. “I’m 3 minutes early?”

“Okay well, I’ve been here for 15 minutes. If you’re not 5 minutes early, you’re late.” He huffed. 

Doing nothing but shaking your head to avoid from telling Beck to fuck off, you arrived at Joe’s door.

“Who’s that coffee for?” Beck questioned sternly.

You finally stood still, turning towards Beck. “Joe.”

He looked mad. “How’d you know his coffee order?”

You raised your eyebrows. “I asked him.” 

He scoffed. Opening the door, you stepped inside, once again adjusting your hair that had been tangled by the wind.

“Mornin’ boss.” You said, walking over to Joe’s desk to set the coffee down.

“Hey kid.” He smiled. “Morning Mr. Beck.”

“Good morning Mr. Mazzello.” Beck straightened his posture. 

After some friendly conversation, Joe explained that he had a meeting with all of the costume and makeup people for the movie. “I need one of you to come with me to hand stuff out and keep track of things for me.”

“”I will.” Beck volunteered before you could even think to say anything.

“Ah Beck, ever eager.” Joe sighed.

He turned to you. “Then you, I’ll just need you to answer some emails for me. Just get to whatever ones you can get to.” He said.

“Okay.” You smiled as he and Beck headed towards the door.

“You’re a peach.” He winked before leaving.

You couldn’t help but smile smally, your cheeks pink as you crossed to the other side of the desk to sit at his desk where his laptop was. You read and responded to emails for a while, your chin set in your hand. 

Something you loved about this job was that no matter how boring or mundane a task was, you always found it enthralling. You got to answer the emails of a Hollywood director, who everyone seemed to be trying to get in contact with. When you print off papers for 20 minutes, it’s exciting because you’re printing off new pages of a script that hardly anyone has read yet. Being an intern was fun, but being Joe’s intern was incredible.

You didn’t think there was a single person in this office who didn’t find Joe handsome and charming and funny, so you tried not to fret when you had these feelings all of the time. 

Joe thought you were adorable. Amazingly pretty, sweet, sarcastic. He assumed the same that you assumed about him, that he shouldn’t worry that he thinks this because he was sure that everyone else did too.

Joe and Beck came back into the office, chatting about something that had to do with the casting director. You finished up the email you’d been writing and stood up from Joe’s seat.

“I hope you didn’t go snooping around in my computer.” He joked.

“Nope, just read all of your personal emails from your family and dug through your photos. You now, normal intern stuff.” You smiled.

Joe cackled. “Nothing I wouldn’t expect from you.”

The rest of the day was similar to that morning, the whole day packed with meetings. Beck had to leave to deliver some papers (you thought it was the refined script) to someone across town, because apparently they were too top secret to be sent by email.

As you were typing out a schedule for hair and makeup, Joe poked his head in the office. 

“Hey, kid?” He asked softly.

“Hm?” You looked up.

“Would you mind coming to this meeting with me? You won’t have to do much, I just want someone to go with me.” He said.

“Oh, yeah sure.” You shut your laptop and stood up to follow him. 

“Why do you want someone to come with you?” You asked quietly as the two of you walked down the hallway. 

Joe stopped outside of the conference room. “Because I fucking hate this guy.”

You laughed lightly.

“Pretend I never said that.” He followed up.

You pretended to zip and lock your lips. He laughed, shaking his head.

The meeting was rather boring, but you understood why Joe hated this guy. He was loud and rude and screamed snobby rich dude. Joe gave you a couple of “I’m so sorry.” glances throughout, but you just gave him some sympathetic smiles back, because you weren’t the one who had to talk to him.

Still, Joe hadn’t mentioned anything about the subway. You were relieved to say the least, hoping that he had forgotten about it. You assumed that if he knew it was you, he would’ve said something over the last 3 weeks.

It was getting dark out by the time Joe said that you and Beck could leave. As you began to step out of his office, offering him a “Bye, Joe.”, he stopped you. Beck had already walked out, and you tilted your head as you stepped back into his office.

“God, I feel like such an old person asking this, but can you help me with something on my computer? I can’t figure out how to download this video that marketing wants me to watch.” He sighed.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You smiled.

“You're a lifesaver.” He said, rolling his chair back so you could lean over his computer.

It took a matter of seconds for you to figure it out, explaining it to him as you went. 

“Oh, well now I just feel stupid.” He sulked.

You giggled. “It’s okay. Do you know how many times a day I feel stupid around you? I had no idea what you guys were talking about in that meeting today.” You turned around to lean your thighs against his desk and face him. 

He leaned back in his chair. “I never know what that fucking guy is talking about.” He sighed. It was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable. He’s just a dick, and I have to listen to him.”

You nodded. “It’s okay. I have a feeling I’m going to have to deal with a lot more guys like him if I’m going to be a part of this industry. It’s best if I practice not telling him to go fuck himself now.”

Joe tipped his head back and laughed. “God, you have the best attitude.” He smiled.

It was quiet again as the two of you smiled, looking at the ground. The room that was usually lit up by the sun outside was now lit up by a single lamp on the desk, along with the city lights through the floor to ceiling windows on the far wall.

Joe looked up at you, the orange glow from the lamp casting a light over your face as you looked at the ground. 

He sighed, then sat up straight in his chair. “Okay, well, I’ll let you go home now. I have a ton of shit to do and you’re probably dead tired.”

“Well do you need help with anything?” You asked immediately.

“No, no. It’s nothing really business related and again, you’re probably dead tired.” He shook his head.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind. My whole job is to make sure you’re not overwhelmed.” you said.

He breathed out and bit his inner cheek. “Well, if you really want to, I have a few errands I have to run, so if you wanted to pick up my dry cleaning and bring it to my apartment, it would save me like an hour.”

“Yeah, I could totally do that.” You shrugged.

“You’re literally an angel, Y/N.” He eulogized. He dug into his bag and pulled out a key. “This is my spare. When you drop off the clothes, just set it on the table. And don’t rob my house.”

“Aw, I can’t even look for a safe?” 

Within 15 minutes, you were picking up Joe’s dry cleaning. The city was in full swing as you took a taxi across town, the lights outshining the moon by a mile. You unlocked Joe’s door and stepped inside, the apartment pitch black as you searched for a light switch, overwhelmed by the scent Joe carried with him at all times. Musky and expensive, but at the same time incredibly comforting. The exact scent of the jacket he had given you. You turned the lights on and walked further into the apartment, looking around. There were papers scattered across the coffee table in the living room, and tons of pictures hanging on the wall. You didn’t want to snoop-no, you weren’t going to snoop. You walked swiftly past the photos on the wall, only catching a slight glimpse of a picture of him and an older woman, presumably his mom.

Debating where to put the clothes, you figured it made sense to hang them in his closet. The scent got stronger as you stepped down a hallway, peeking your head into each of the rooms, trying to find his bedroom. It was at the end of the hallway, and you tried your hardest not to look around while you were walking across the room to his closet, but some things were inevitable to see. The room was clean, unorganized, but still clean. The bed was unmade. More pictures covered the wall, and this time, you let yourself take a glance. Most of them were him and his family. It made you crack a smile, the thought of Joe being a family man.

You hung the clothes in the closet quickly and turned back around, ready to leave, when an orange and white cat ran past your feet and jumped onto his bed. You flinched and then laughed. “Kitty, you scared me.” You said softly, walking over to the bed and reaching out your hand.

The cat nuzzled its face against your knuckles and you giggled lightly. 

“She’s not like that with most people.” A voice said from behind you. 

“Jesus!” You jumped, turning around to see Joe in the doorway. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“You’re in my house!” He laughed.

“Sorry, I just… Sorry. I promise I wasn’t snooping around or anything I was just, I’m so sorry.” You rambled, suddenly flustered by the fact that you were in your boss’ bedroom. You sighed. “I was hanging up your clothes and-”

“Y/N, kid, I don’t care.” He laughed.

You took a deep breath and put your face in your hands. “I’m sorry.” You chuckled.

He came over and sat at the end of the bed by you, his cat immediately crawling into his lap. “I meant what I said though, she’s usually mean to new people.” He said, petting his cat softly.

You sat down next to him, reaching your hand over to pet her as well. “What’s her name?”

“Ronnie. I originally thought I was getting a boy cat so I picked out that name, I got it from the movie ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’, but then they told me last minute I was getting a girl. So I guess she’s just a girl named after a boy.”

“Mm.” You hummed “Never seen it.”

His hands froze. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’ve never seen it.” You giggled.

He gasped. “Y/N, are you fucking serious? You’ve never seen Can’t Buy Me Love? That’s like, a staple movie of American Cinema!”

You laughed a little harder. “I’ve just never really got around to it, I guess?”

He scoffed and began laughing too. “That’s ridiculous. I’m forcing you to watch it sometime. Sometime before shooting ends, that’s my goal. We have to culture you.”

“You’re my boss, I guess I have to agree.” You said.

“Mhm. Exactly.” He said, his eyes twinkling.

Ronnie crossed over to your lap and laid down. Joe scooted closer to you to continue scratching her head, unintentionally pressing his thigh against yours.

You tried to keep your breathing steady as you stared down at the cat, doing everything you could to distract yourself from Joe, who seemingly paid no mind to your closeness.

A quiet fell over the room as you both silently pet his cat. It was a comforting scene.

Ronnie, who had seemed to start more than one problem tonight, decided to stand up, stretch, then jump off your lap, trotting out of the room. Now, there you sat, right next to Joe.

He looked up at you, like he had just now realized how close he was to you.

“I should… probably go.” You said quietly. He nodded and you stood up, making a beeline for the door. 

“Bye, Y/N, thanks for picking up my dry cleaning.” He spoke dryly.

You turned and rested your hand against the doorway to his room. “Goodnight Joe.”

You could’ve thrown up as you took the elevator down to the first floor. Here you are, just about 3 weeks into your first job, and you almost truly, royally fucked things up. 

Maybe, you thought, you were thinking too far into things. That things hadn’t crossed over a professional line, that all you really ever did was pet his cat and talk about a stupid movie. 

As Joe heard you walk out his front door, he flopped back onto his bed, covering his face with his hands, the same thought process as you going through his mind.

“Fuck.” He groaned. 

-

taglist- @im-an-adult-ish @almightygwil @draconiiian @roveyrove @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band @lizgarxo

[writehardwhumpharder]

Carson drabble - A new low (unfinished)

Carson stared up at his ceiling for the third night in a row. He was really starting to hate the look of it. Carson turned over with a sigh  to look out the window instead. The moon was bright that night, casting odd, dark shadows over already dark spaces.

"What am I doing?" He asked out loud to himself. No matter how long he laid there attempting to clear his head, he wasn't going to fall asleep. Not after what happened a few days ago at least. Carson was no stranger to nightmares, he usually had them a few nights a week, but that never stopped him from falling asleep before.

Even if he had stopped resurrecting living things when he was a kid, the memory would still haunt him. Death just isn't something you can forget. He'd stared into that black abyss, let the cold emptiness wash over him as he reached in to pull a soul back out. But this time, Death had pulled back. Carson always knew that there would be a limit to his powers, eventually the reaper wouldn't stand idly by while he messed with the scales of life and death. There was a natural, inevitable end to all life and Carson had found it the hard way.

It all started when a young woman died in a traffic accident on her way to work. Carson got to her a minute or so after the crash, while metal was still hot and smoke poured out from the ravaged engine. It was before the authorities got there, he was one of a small crowd beginning to form in the intersection. Seeing the young kid crying in the backseat, Carson didn't hesitate to grab her hand through the broken window and reach down for her fading soul. The world melted away around them and Carson focused solely on the energy in front of him. When he felt the lingering threads of life in the bottom of the black hole, he pulled, but a stronger force pulled back, and hard. Carson thought for a horrible second that it would take him too as he was swept up in Death's current. He struggled to separate himself from the woman’s soul which was being violently dragged deeper into that cold abyss. The message was clear. This was a soul Carson couldn’t take back. He was just a visitor here, given the privilege to retrieve souls from a power much stronger than himself. It was a privilege that could be taken away, and if that power wanted Carson, it would have him, plain and simple. Suddenly he was falling, sinking, fading, dying. Through either luck or mercy, at the last second, it let go. Pulling away like a receding tide, and then he was back on the street gasping for air. The world was so bright in comparison that he scrunched his eyes closed against the harsh light. Every fiber of his being trembled with fear and he clutched his chest protectively. A very young, very surprised paramedic stared down at him. She'd been reaching for the paddles to restart his heart when he jolted awake on his own.

"Sir, don't move, your heart just stopped for a moment. Can you tell me your name and how you were involved with the crash?" she asked.

"Oh shit... oh shit..." Carson mumbled to himself. He thought he'd only imagined dying and here this girl was telling him that those horrible moments he'd spent in the clutches of Death himself were real. He... he had to go home.

"Sir? Sir, can you-" she started again, reaching for his arm as he leapt up, still a bit dizzy on his feet. Carson didn't wait to let her finish. Once he was sure his heart could handle it he took off in a sprint down the street towards his apartment, his plans of going to the store completely abandoned.

When he got back he opened the door with magic, too desperate to get inside to mess around with the key. He slammed it behind him and paced back and forth a couple times before sinking into the sofa. Still trembling, Carson fought to regain control of his thoughts. Every time he thought about it he shivered all over again.

That was three days ago.

Carson managed to put the event out of his mind for periods of time during the day but each time he tried to fall asleep, he spent the night staring at his ceiling, blaring rock music most of the time to get his own brain to leave him alone. The whiskey helped with that too of course. Carson didn't make a habit of drinking often but every night since then he'd drink until drifting into a numb sleep, only to startle awake an hour or so later. When Carson saw Daniel yesterday he could tell he'd been giving him odd looks, but since he hadn't heard any of the usual screaming, he assumed Carson was sleeping just fine.

When morning finally rolled around the lack of sleep was starting to take its toll. His tired sluggishness was replaced by an odd jittery feeling and the simple task of sitting up almost made him throw up. After a few long moments of just sitting on the edge of his bed Carson decided to make some coffee. It was around 7am which was much earlier than he'd usually wake up but lately, time was blurring together and he looked forward to the morning when he could give up on the futile act of trying to fall asleep. Of course starting the day with so little energy didn't give Carson much hope for it but he had to keep going, they had a case to solve. It was probably better if he just tired himself out, Carson reasoned, sleep couldn’t evade him forever. But deep down, Carson knew that he was scared to close his eyes, because every time he did, it felt like he was dying all over again.

By the time his coffee was done brewing Carson was lost in thought again, leaning against the counter, staring at nothing. The beep that the machine made when it was done startled him so much that he jumped back, blinking his eyes to look for the source of the annoyingly loud sound.

"Right... right, coffee..." he mumbled, pouring it into a mug, skipping the milk and sugar. Carson stumbled over to the couch, looking for a way to kill some time until the rest of the world woke up. Or at least until Daniel did. Carson briefly considered waking him up in some obnoxious fashion but ultimately decided against it. Danny had enough to deal with at the shop right now.

"I need more friends," he sighed, "I need more sleep."

He decided to check his messages while forcing some dry cereal down his throat. The thought of eating disgusted him but Carson knew he'd only feel worse later if he didn't. Riley had mentioned that Morris wanted him to come to the station that day, she was probably expecting him to come in at noon but seeing as Carson had nothing else to do he might as well get it over with now.

The headache forming behind his temples was steadily getting worse, but honestly, when wasn't it? He slipped his pain meds into his coat just in case and put on his darkest pair of sunglasses before going out. Carson learned back in college that with sleep deprivation his alertness tended to fluctuate. Part of the time he'd feel almost normal, awake, energized. Then a few minutes later he'd struggle to simply keep his eyes open. The walk to the station was a lot like that. He’d go a few blocks without having any problems, just breathing in the fresh morning air to keep his brain clear. Then suddenly fatigue would wash over him again and threaten to knock him over. Carson grabbed onto a light post and bent over, trying to catch his breath. He took a few deep breaths before straightening then kept going. All in all, he only had to stop and sit down four times on his way to the station, which Carson considered to be a major victory given how shitty he was feeling. Realistically he knew he couldn’t keep going like this, eventually his body would give up on him. And it was exactly Carson’s personality to push himself to that point with a sort of  “do nothing and see what happens” approach. His mom wouldn’t be at all happy if she knew about that, Carson’s brain conjured up an image of the exact face she’d make and he burst out laughing, looking like a madman on the street. He wasn’t even sure what was so funny about it but with his brain being absolutely scrambled right now it didn’t really matter. Honestly, the lack of sleep wasn’t really his biggest problem. It was the constant anxiety that tore through him every time he thought about what happened when he tried to resurrect that woman. His nerves were shot and the caffeine he was using to compensate only added to the problem.

The police station came into view and Carson jogged the last few steps, just wanting to get inside. It was busy like usual but all the background noise stayed pleasantly in the background, too fuzzy to really bother him. The receptionist smiled at him as he walked in, he’d met her before a couple times.

“I’m here.” Carson said, stopping in front of her. His arms hung heavily at his sides.

“I see…” Janice trailed off, giving him an odd look as she took in his appearance, “I suppose you’re here to talk to Morris, you can head back to his office.” Her eyes lingered on him as he walked straight to the back corner of the station where Morris’s office was.

What she didn’t see was how hard Carson was trying to walk in a straight line, fighting to keep all his limbs in coordination. Hell, if he was at home right now he wouldn’t have even tried not to stagger into the wall, or maybe he’d have just crawled there. “Can’t fall down if you’re already on the floor”, Carson thought to himself, it was becoming one of the mottos he lived by. He walked past Riley’s desk where she was hard at work, filling in some forms. She noticed him and turned in her swivel chair.

“Hey, I’ll meet you in there in a minute,” she said. Carson looked at her like he understood none of what she had just said.

“I’m getting coffee.” He declared, heading to the break room. While Carson wasn’t really on the payroll, bagels and coffee were fair game, so he walked up to the machine and picked up the empty pot. Carson stared at it with a frown, not having planned on actually making the coffee himself. Wishing the pot would just magically refill itself, Carson racked his brain for some sort of instant coffee spell, he knew he had one. Just as he was about to start making a ritual circle in sugar, the door to the break room swung open and Riley was quick to whisk the pot away from him. He had this sort of vacant look today and she honestly didn’t trust him to use any kind of complex technology.

“Step aside, I’ll make it.” Carson did as he was told, watching patiently as she scooped some fresh grounds into the filter then filled the tank with water. The machine made some weird noises and started to drip hot, brown liquid into the bottom of the pitcher.

“Aren’t you going to take your sunglasses off?” She asked. Carson raised a hand to touch them as if he had forgotten they were there. Lowering them for a split second, Carson looked into the room, instantly being blinded by the bright fluorescent bulbs. Spots stained his vision for a few seconds before fading away.

“Nope.” He said, sounding certain.

“Whatever, here,” she held out a mug for him to take and didn’t miss the way his hands shook as he gripped the handle, “what’s wrong with you today?” Riley asked.

“Nothing, it’s,” the question was enough to send Carson’s mind back to that dark place again and a full-body shiver raced up his spine, “nothing.”

“Okayyyy,” Riley said sounding unconvinced but didn’t push the subject, “since you’re here we should head over to Morris’s office, he says he has important info. on the case and there’s some paperwork for you to fill out.”

Carson sighed deeply and walked over to the kitchen counter, grabbing milk and sugar to add to his coffee. “Paperwork, my favorite,” his voice was so dull as he said it that Riley couldn’t even consider it sarcasm. Carson looked her in the eyes as he slipped the flask, which he’d been keeping within arms reach the last three days, out of his pocket, pouring an unknown amount of whiskey into his coffee. His head was already killing him and despite the energy coursing through his shaking body, Carson wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor right then and there. This concoction probably wouldn’t help with either of those things but he had a state of semi-consciousness to maintain if he was going to get through the day. The goal was to be awake enough to move around but numb enough to keep the waking nightmares away. He’d never truly forget what he saw, what he felt, but given some time Carson would shake the feeling. He just had to get through a few more days to get it out of his head.

“Wow okay, not even gonna ask what that’s about…” Riley gave him a look of concern, judgement, skepticism, and pity all in one. Carson didn’t like it one bit but you can’t walk around looking a right mess as he was without getting a few odd looks. He followed her out of the break room and sank down into Morris’s sofa happily once they were in his office. Riley sat in the desk chair opposite Morris, actively ignoring him in interest of actually getting some work done.

Carson felt his eyes starting to slip closed, and suddenly sitting down wasn’t a very viable option. If he stayed on the couch any longer he’d fall asleep then probably wake up screaming. Not wanting to risk a new level of embarrassment in front of these people, Carson reluctantly dragged himself out of the chair and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest to try to get somewhat comfortable.

“You can sit down if you want to…” Morris said, not sure why Carson felt the need to suddenly stand up instead.

“Nah, I’m good.” Carson replied.

“Alright well let’s do the easy stuff first. I have two witness reports I need you to look over and sign. if there are any details I missed you can add them in in the spaces provided. Then I’ve also got a waiver for you. You don’t have to sign it but it would save me a lot of time. Every time you go and get yourself hurt on our watch it’s a whole mess of paperwork to get it sorted out. And knowing you…” Morris looked him over, not in a judgmental way necessarily, but Carson got what he was hinting at. It would be easier for everyone if he just waived their liability.

“Mmm yeah, sounds like a good idea,” Carson said tiredly, rubbing his eyes with one hand. Morris handed Riley the waiver first on a clipboard and she passed it along to Carson with a pen which took an unhealthy amount of fumbling for him to grab. Riley watched as his eyes quickly scanned over the paper. If he wasn’t doing that thing where he mouths the words to himself she would have thought he was going into REM sleep instead the way his eyes fluttered back and forth, only half open.  

**************

Carson understood maybe a quarter of the document in front of him but he signed it at the bottom anyway. His signature looked more like a scribble than it did letters but it always kind of looked like that… Riley leaned over and took the clipboard back from him and set it down on Morris’s desk.

“Okay and I already wrote up the witness sta-,” he paused, “they were right here a second ago…” he fumbled around. “Miller.”

That’s all he needed to say for Riley to know he expected her to find the documents. They were partially hidden by a stack of files she brought with her.

“There are two of them to sign. Make sure to read them carefully and add in any missing details. We summarized all the main points to speed things up but you still need to fill in the blanks.”

Carson accepted the clipboard again and risked sitting back down on the couch. This was going to be a bit more difficult than he thought. Okay here it goes… Carson squinted at the page.

“On August 18th, 2019…” He started. The rest of the words kind of blended together, “witness went to the location: Central Ave in Bushwick, Brookyn, New York…”

“You really don’t have to read it out loud. We know what it says,” Riley told him.

Shit that was out loud? He must really be losing it not to notice that. “Oh, okay, I’ll just read it then…” He reached for his mug instinctively and let it warm up his hand. Taking a sip, Carson forgot that it was equal parts coffee, whiskey, and sugar. He glanced into the dark liquid for a little longer than he intended to.

“I don’t think this is working,” Riley said. “Maybe it would help if I read it to you…”

She gently took the clipboard and mug out of his hands, setting the mug down on Morris’s desk out of his reach. “Okay, On August 18th, 2019 the witness went to the location Central Ave. The incident was described as follows by the witness: At approximately 10:30pm he came across a group of seven people all suspected to be magic-users. The suspects used…”

Eventually they got through the first statement and Carson even managed to recall a few more details to add in. He signed it and waited for her to move on the next one. Riley again acted as reader and transcriber.

“On August-“ Riley started to read.

“Um, wait a moment,” Morris interrupted her and pointed to Carson. “I think he fell asleep.”

“I guess we need to wake him up before we continue, right?” It was a genuine question from trainee to supervisor.

“Yes you need the person to be conscious for the interview,” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t bother though. I want to get through a few of these files then we can get back to it.”

[onefourjisung]

Levanter (Stray Kids Bang Chan)

Prompt: Reader has been Bang Chan's friend since they started training together, but its time for them to part ways as they both chase their dreams in different paths. (fem reader, idol-trainee au)

Warnings: A teeny bit of angst

Word count: 1,662

You and Bang Chan have known each other since you were both in your early teens. You both along with BamBam started training at JYP Entertainment around the same time, leaving your previous life behind in your home countries to pursue your childhood dreams. The first time you met Bang Chan and BamBam, the three of you hit it off straight away. Not many trainees started as young as you three did, so you both stuck to each others' sides because no one understood you as much as each other.

Time rolled by, BamBam became the first one out of you to debut with GOT7, at only 16. You and Bang Chan were one of the first people to congratulate him, despite of the somber mood that came from knowing that from that point on he will be too busy to hang out with you as much as he used to. After BamBam's debut, you and Bang Chan became even closer. You both protected each other like guard dogs in fear of the inevitable.

2016, four years after you started training, JYP put you in a trainee line up preparing for a debut survival show called Sixteen. To say you were excited was an understatement, you practiced harder, stayed in the studio for longer, even sometimes forgetting to eat and rest. And when you expectedly broke down, Bang Chan was ready by your side, picking up your pieces with sweet hugs and motivational words until you were ready to stand back up again.

However, only a week before the show started shooting, you accidentally broke your ankle in the middle of a dance practice. This unfortunately led to you being cut off from the trainee line up and was replaced by the youngest trainee, Natty.

Understandably, you were way more than upset. And again, Bang Chan was beside you like always. The moment he heard of what happened, he dropped all things and was ready to console and take care of his best friend.

Debut opportunities came and went for you, you auditioned for Produce101 with Somi but you didn't even make it to the 101 trainees line up while your younger friend ended up as the center of the debuted group. You wanted to join Produce48 but your agency was against it so there was not much you can do.

And then one day, JYP announced a new untitled survival show you were chosen to participate in along with the other trainees. The end goal was to decide which group will debut between the male trainees and the female trainees. The night after the survival proposal announcement, you and Bang Chan went to get dinner together. A sentence he said stuck to you to this day, "friendships are friendships and work is work, right? Lets do our best, (y/n). And I hope luck is with the both of us."

Luck decided to only be on one of your side. And that's Chan's. As all of the trainees stepped down the showcase's stage, Bang Chan caught up to you in silence.

You smiled at your friend. "Congratulations, Chan, I mean it."

"Thank you." He returned the smile with a slight sigh, "(y/n), I-"

"Friendships are friendships and work is work, remember? I'll see you on the other side, the debuted idols' side." You patted his back with a light chuckle before catching up to your the other female trainees.

You missed Bang Chan's teary gaze as his eyes followed your figure until you disappeared from his sight.

Never wanted anything as much as you.

Never crossed my mind that I could ever lose.

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

You watched as the screen of your phone turned black for a split second before Stray Kids' logo appeared on it along with the writing "This stream has ended, waiting for replay."

You pressed your home button and opened KakaoTalk before choosing Bang Chan's contact name.

y/n: are u busy?

🍞chris: nope, about to head back to the dorm

🍞chris: whats up?

y/n: wait up

y/n: im coming to your studio

y/n: i need to talk to you about something

🍞 chris: uh,, okay?

🍞 chris: should i be scared?

[✓Read]

You timidly knocked on the door on Chan's studio before letting yourself in, closing the door behind you. Chan smiled at your arrival, putting down his phone.

"Hey, (y/n)!" He greeted cheerfully as he put his ukulele back in to it's case.

"Hi, Chan." You smiled. "I watched your VLive, might wanna work on your ukulele a bit more," you joked.

His laugh boomed across the small studio. "I know, I know. My little brother would be ashamed if he saw that."

"Oh yeah, definitely," you smiled teasingly, "he texted me, said he's about to disown you from the family."

"Hey!" He mocked offence. "Excuse you, I'm the one who brings food to Berry's table."

You chuckled. "Yea, yea, suit yourself Mr. Best-Leader,"

Bang Chan put down his ukulele as he finally gave you his full attention. "So, did you come here only to mock my ukulele playing skills or is there something else you wanna talk about?"

You sighed as your smile flattered in to a sad one. "Yeah, about that,"

"Is everything okay, (y/n)?" Chan tilted his head slightly in concern to your sudden change of mood.

"Sort of, but not really." You said truthfully.

"What is it?"

There was a few seconds of silence before you responded. "I'm leaving, Chan."

Surprise and disbelief was written all over his face when he let out a whisper, "wh- what?"

You nervously ran a hand through your hair. "I- I'm leaving JYP-"

"But why?" Chan cut you off.

"It's been almost 10 years, Chan. I have been a trainee for almost ten years and theres still no signs of me debuting soon," you made eye contact with the shocked boy in front of you.

"That's not true!" He argued.

"Yeah?" You chuckled bitterly. "I stayed because I thought at least they would consider debuting me with ITZY, but they didn't even bat an eye because apparently I 'don't fit the concept'. The younger kids are already debuting, the future groups are just gonna be younger and younger-"

"You can debut as a solo artist?" He cut you off once again.

"And how big is the chance for me to be a solo artist, huh?" You bit back. "Chan, I got an offer in another agency, a really promising one at that. It might not be as big as JYPE but it'll do."

Bang Chan could do nothing other than stare at you, drowning in his own thoughts.

"I'm tired of being hung by a thread like this, Chan. It was not an easy decision for me either but I've made up my mind." You softly said, letting your head down as you switched your focus to the carpeted floor.

Bang Chan finally snapped out of his train of thoughts as he raised from his seat before quickly hugging you tighter than he ever had.

"Okay," he sighed. "I understand where you're coming from. I guess- I don't know, it's just so sudden,"

"I'm sorry," you returned the hug. "I just wanted to tell you personally before you leave for your world tour,"

Chan pulled away from the hug and brought one of his hand to your face, making you look at him. "I'll see you on the other side, yeah?" He smiled softly.

You nodded. "The debuted idols' side."

Oh, this is the end of the road

Oh, I'm holding out for a new hope

'Cause it's the darkest of all before the dawn

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

"And the award for Rookie of The Year goes to-"

The seconds ticked slowly as the MC opened the envelope. You and your members' clammy hands taut together tightly as you silently prayed for the best outcome.

"EXACT! Congratulations!!"

Your mouth fell agape, in the corner of your eyes you saw some of your members sprung up from their chairs in joy. The loud screams of your fans filled the stadium when the member beside you tugged on your hand slightly.

"(y/n), let's go," she beamed at you, gesturing to the stage with a nod of her head.

You recollected yourself before fixing your skirt as you walked towards the stage, thunderous claps and cheers ringing in your ears.

The MC passed the golden trophy on to your teammates and you stepped up to the mic. You began your thank you speech on the behalf of your group as the leader. You thanked your members, family and friends, the agency, and also your fans. However, you couldn't help but choke up in the middle of your speech, wrapping it up with a final group greeting with a couple of tears slipping past your eyelashes.

You let a few more tears fall when you slipped off backstage. You and your members were taking pictures with the trophy when a bunch of familiar faces turned the corner in to the hallway you were in.

"(y/n) noona!" Jisung let out a happy shrill when his eyes found yours.

"Hi, Jisung," you chuckled at your old friend's antics as the rest of Stray Kids stepped in to sight, preparing for their upcoming performance.

After both your group and Stray Kids formally greeted each other, you slipped past the other's attention as Bang Chan pulled you aside.

"I haven't gotten the chance of saying this to you personally so, congratulations on your debut, (y/n)." Bang Chan smiled at you. "And the award too, of course."

"Thank you, Chan." You replied. "Thank you for always sticking by my side, couldn't have done it without you,"

"No, no, no." He shook his head cutely. "This was all you, take some credit,"

You giggled. "Right,"

"I'm proud of you." Bang Chan hugged you as he whispered softly, "we finally meet on the other side after all, huh?"

And now that I left it all behind me

I'm flying high, I'm flying high

[hopetofantasy]

‘Wandering Romance’ - Part 4

- A future with child fic -

Square Filled: Future, Family, Past lovers Ship: Sander Driesen/Robbe Ijzermans   Trigger Warnings (if applicable): mentions of abuse, toxic relationships, self harm, rape/non-con elements, emotional manipulation, mental breakdown, panic attacks, self loathing Created for @skamevents

Summary: “A perfect, tight little family. But happy. Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.”

In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past.

So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good?

Also available on AO3

SURPRISE: I’m going to add a FIFTH CHAPTER (EPILOGUE) TOO!

——————————————————

CHAPTER 4: 'No one sees myself like you do’

——————————————————

He knew he broke his heart.

Shattering the pieces everywhere. 

He knew they weren’t his to take, to glue together, to hold onto.

Yet, he did it. Again and again.

He caused pain, he felt pain, he gave the pain away. 

He hated pain.

But...

He loved pain.

He deserved it. He always deserved it.

Love was never his, love wasn’t there for him.

He didn’t deserved it.

Pain was better.

Breathe.

Why?

Breathe.

Why should he?

Please?

Pain was good.

Just once.

He wasn’t normal.

Come on, breathe for me.

Was he ever normal?

Oh god. Come on!

He was a monster. 

Goddammit, breathe!

He didn’t.

He didn’t do it.

He didn’t want to.

A cry.

Soft blurred halo.

Fierce light surrounding him.

Vaguely familiar blonde color in the corner of his eyes.

Deep pressure on his arm.

Harsh sound of a deep cry.

“Please, Robbe...”

The pain was enough.

But then...

After a century of darkness.

He took his first breath.

 -^-

 He didn’t remember how he got there. 

Slowly walking into his home and tracing the soft texture of the eggshell walls, he sighed deeply. He was welcomed back into the silence. As if he never left. As if they were never witness to anything else. Beautiful things had happened. Horrendous things had happened. But the walls would never speak of it. They kept their peace. 

Robbe liked that. 

The color was his pick, of course. As if Sander would have chosen boring beige, cold dark blue or a simple black. Come on. Get real. Back when they were together, he would have rolled his eyes at the suggestions the brown-haired boy would make. Arms crossed with faces close to each other, harsh veins popping out because of all the exertion of the shouting matches.

“Life is passion, Robbe. Don’t be the boring gay!” “Sander, we’re supposed to live in this, I don’t want to be nauseous of all the weird combinations!” “And what the hell is wrong with red and yellow?” “What’s right about red and yellow?” “God, are you serious?!”

Hours and hours of discussing splashes of paint, cataloguing each other’s taste, skipping the expensive brands and go into thrift stores to score beautiful furniture, to do it all over again. Yelling, kissing, making up. Falling out of bed, because of the fits of laughter. Mischievous eyes filled with what now?’s. Slight kisses to temples.

“Beige and brown!” “Orange and purple!” 

“Dark blue and light green!” “Salmon pink and aquamarine!” 

Soft Sander. Beautiful lover. His artist.

Always complying at a flutter of eyelashes, bending his knees at a sigh and holding him at one tear. Always there. Ready to take, to caress and to mend. Late night in bed with their little baby boy in their midst, whispering sweet words to let him catch on. Telling him stories about his day. About the weird accountant who wanted a beautiful portrait of his awful boss. Probably to throw darts at it, he figured. Why else? 

A cute giggle.

Oh, did he tell you about the elderly couple? Together for more than fifty years, alive and kicking. They wanted their love honored by making a beautiful portrait. “Yes, no problem”, he had said. After discussing the price, set-up and deadline, Sander had instructed them to sit down to pose. And that’s when they took off their clothes. “Ah, didn't we tell you? It’s a nude portrait!”

David had always been charmed by his papa’s life. Bowie was his hero, blonde hair and leather jackets was his forté. And the tiny boy was just following along. Worshipping every tiny piece. It ran in his blood, didn’t it? Being extraordinary? The artistry? His mother wasn’t conventional either. Noor was special, artsy and beautiful. So each day would pass and their son would be more and more like Sander. A light in the darkness.

And Robbe wasn’t.

He was cold, boring and hollow.

Like now, he was standing in his own home, not knowing what to do or say. He didn’t know how to get going, how to move along and change the course. It had all happened, but did it actually? Was he there? He could feel the ground beneath his feet, the musky air in his lungs, the color of the walls. But was he there? Had he ever been here? Was he truly him?

His hand immediately went to his arm, nails scratching the hardness of skin. And Robbe started to walk around. He needed to feel the space, to know where he was. Anxious pacing the wool carpet he had chosen to compliment the couch in their tiny living room. A space that had been filled with beautiful memories, that of Jens doing a handstand to impress his nephew and almost crashing into their new coffee table. 

His feet were slowly shuffling towards their dining room and kitchen. A small smile appeared at Robbe’s face, because he remembered how Moyo would make their regular tapas evenings happen here. Before they all had settled down with their partners and became too busy to organize them again. “I’m the best chef cook of the Western Hemisphere, Robbe! You’ll see!”, he said the first time. 

Right before the fire alarm went off. 

The next memory flashed before his eyes. Amber and Aaron coincidentally sitting in close proximity of each other. The one looking at the other, right when the other turned their gaze downwards. Jana subtly nudging her husband and whispering her observations. “They still love each other,” Robbe had heard from her. “Why won’t they go back together?” With a slight shrug from Jens as a response. “What can we do about it?”

He felt hurt.

Well, that was something.

A feeling.

A little red stain on his finger? Robbe huffed, looking down at the color. Red is a beautiful shade, isn’t it? So passionate, deep and yet, something that connected all of them. A thrilling feeling. Finally something that connected him to all his friends, his family, his own son. His ex-lover. He never truly felt tied to them all, especially in the later years.

A beep on his cell.

He was grey, as grey as the sharp steel in the kitchen. He wasn’t special. He never understood why Sander thought he was. Why his son would pick that exact song, the one which ripped his heart out and made him feel 16 years old again? Right then and there, at a beach town supermarket, a cute guy whirling him around on a supermarket cart. A feeling that went up and up, never coming down. 

A text.

Pain was inevitable, he had learned. With Noor. With Sander. With David. Because children were a blessing, they'd always be the good in the world. That’s why he needed to protect the boy, from all the evil. Why he would let himself be pushed off the stairs, so not one beautiful curl on his head would be harmed. Psychically or emotionally. 

- “I’m coming to talk to you” -

No other dark eyes filled with sorrow.

Only his.

 -^-

 “Come on, baby! Dance for me, you know you want to!”

“Wouter, please, stop it... You’re going to wake up my son.”

As if he cared...  Wouter just kept pulling at Robbe’s sweater, trying to discard it, so he could dug his nails at his bare arms. His response was to shut himself off. He wasn’t going to stop anyways, so why bother? Robbe liked it too, didn’t he? He was sure he did. When the other man nipped at his ear, slowly biting a trail down his neck and loosening his belt. He really loved it. Right?

“Rob- just do it for me. I’m too tired to move along!”, the man growled.

His breath filled with distain and mixed with the stench of cheap liquor. Eyes watered down to dimmed grey and clouds covering the sun. His hands were calloused, rough, manhandling him towards the end of the bed. The man named Robbe discarding his lover’s pants and hoping to shush loud moans by softly kissing his lips. His palm sweetly caressing, was met with a sharp pain in his wrist. Hmmm...

“I want it now. Don’t give me that bullshit about lubing it up and kissing gently. Just put a condom on already! I’m ready. You are too!”

Fear struck. Made him come out of the daze. Back into his mind. Robbe moved along to the other’s body, gripped the hip and pulled it from his orbit. Followed by a furious growl, whilst fingers formed a fist. He didn’t want it to happen. It would happen anyway. But still, he couldn’t say yes to this. This wasn’t what he wanted. Stop. Don’t do this.

“Wouter, stop it please...”, he whispered. “I don’t want this”

“What do you mean? You always say yes to this! It’s me your talking to, not some loser from the street, dumb-dumb.” Sickeningly sweet tone. A flower clearing through the greyish woods. An inkling of hushed love. Two bodies breathing together, bothered in various ways. But his head still screamed ‘no’. Greasy lips on his chest, licking towards his right nipple.

“I don’t want to, Wouter. Not tonight.”

Silence. 

Pull away.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, of course, Robbe. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to. What kind of guy do you think I am? I’m not like that filthy know-it-all you call your ex. I mean, it’s not because you have a son with him, like you jump when he asks you to. You’re not his plaything... You’re mine. Right?”

Wouter’s face contorted in a cheap grin. He knew he shouldn’t fall for that, Robbe knew better. But did he? Maybe... Maybe his boyfriend was right? Sander did boss him around, when it came to their son. Always expecting to jump? But that wasn’t Sander was it? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think.

His thoughts were interrupted by his lover huffing out a short laugh. Seemed to be sobering up, a little. Maybe. “You shouldn’t worry your pretty head too much, darling. You’ll get wrinkles. But if we’re not going to do anything, I’ll need something to get the edge off. It’s been a long, hard damned week. I at least deserve a break. You want some?”

Oh, Robbe knew what ‘some’ meant. The brown haired boy didn’t like this feeling. Of not being in charge what was going to happen at this point of the evening. He shook his head, while his chest slowly closed up. The last memory he had of that stuff, was Wouter breaking his dresser. All because Robbe made a comment about his unemployment. A throw-away remark, that’s all it was.  He was going to shut his mouth now. 

It only took him a half hour. 

“You know, sweetie. I always wondered what so special about that boy of yours. He’s the apple of your eye, right? A spitting image of you both. And yet, he isn’t. The son of an unknown father and a dead mother. Beautiful that you took him in. That’s true. But what’s so special about those blonde curls?”

Ice.

His blood turned to ice. Is this how murderous anger felt? It felt really close. His body was too slow at first to follow his coked-up partner to the stairs. But caught him, before Wouter could step foot towards the child’s door. Hissing. He felt like a wild animal, a lion trying to protect its cub, when he spit out:

“Don’t. Even. FUCKING. Dare. Touching. Him. Or. I’ll. Kill. You. With. My. Bare. Hands.”

Dark storm clouds looked into his. Venom in the mouth.

“Does he know, Robbe... Does he know he’s not yours? That he’s a boy that’s neither made from love between two men nor out of a conscious decision by his true mother? Never knowing his real father, having two fakes instead. You told me that, you know. You might not remember, but I do. I know what you said about little David, sweet darling son...”

Robbe froze on the spot. His fight-or-flight-reaction going into full overdrive. The hair on his arms were standing up, senses completely aware of his surroundings. All while still having no shirt on, he now remembered. What a ridiculous thought. Him, a man, of barely 1.68m and bare chested, trying to fight someone without pants and at least one head bigger than him.

And yet... So tempting...

“I remember what you said, Robbe. You were blubbering all over me, crying about that beach blonde bitch again. Typical. But then you said it to me. Your real fear... That he isn’t yours. That he looks so much like Sander, beautiful unattainable Sander. Boohoo. And never like the boring you. That you blame your ex for that! That’s what you said, right? ‘I’ll never be good enough for sweet David, Sander seems to be’. That’s adorable. Truly. Adorable.”

Poison.

In his veins.

Deafening silence. 

“Maybe I should tell him, darling? All. Of. It. What do you t-”

Hard grunting. Hands everywhere. Red scratches.

Black irises taking over the grey. 

Pushing and pulling. 

Shouting. Screaming. Crying. 

Tilting worlds. Tumbling. Tripping. 

Falling. Falling. Falling. 

Pain.

Black.

And a few days later: 

“Don’t tell papa I broke my arm okay? It’s nothing to worry about, okay sweetie?” 

Followed by a soft:

“Okay, paps. I won't.”

 -^-

 “It’s better this way...”

“I know.”

“You know this is the only way.”

“I knów.”

Beautiful deep eyes. A pained expression. The back of a hand tracing his cheek. Wiping away the tears trickling down. A watery smile. This feeling of being left alone with all the responsibility on his shoulders, was somehow even worse than breaking up. But he shouldered through it anyway. He needed to. He needed to be strong for someone else.

“Robbe...”

“Sander, don’t...”, the other, tiny boy whispered. “Just promise you’ll take care of him. You’re the only one I trust with him.” His little hands still covering the man’s rosed cheeks. Fresh bandages wrapped around the fragile arms. Memories of closing, days of grey clouds and unspoken communication. Sander nodded his head. But he needed to say it, to get the feelings off his chest. 

“I’m so sorry, Robbe. I didn’t know. I was supposed to be there for you. In sickness and in health, right?” A pained smile of both. “I meant it, schat. I didn’t... I should’ve... We wouldn’t have...” Sander looked down. He couldn’t find the words to describe what he felt. 

“It’s okay”, his love answered. A fluttery kiss to his right cheek. “I’m still here. I’m not going away. Not for long at least. And then we can start again. We can start over... Maybe. Only... If you want to. I mean... If you still-”

“I still love you. I’ll always will. I’m never going to stop.” 

“Me neither...”

A ruffle through brown hair.

A featherlight hug.

A light giggle from him.

A cute wink he managed himself. 

“Chill...”

“Chill..."

Then he watched the brown jacket step towards the entrance, right into the arms of the welcoming nurses. All warmly tapping his shoulder, introducing themselves and trying to make him feel at home. Nodding at what he's saying. Already knowing why he's there, but listening anyways. They were going to be good for him. Just like they were good for Sander, a whole lifetime ago.

But before his life partner stepped through the door, he made a stop and turned around quickly.

With mischief on his face.

“So, what are we going to do in the next minute?!”

And a loud response for the artist, surprising even himself:

“In the next minute, I’ll wait for you!”

 And waiting he did.

[amomentsescape]

Can you do a 2nd part of Michael travelling to the apocalypse timeline? It was so good that left me intrigued to know more!! Because as we know he's still a stubborn boy and when he wants to finish something he would do it. He sneaks onto the machine at midnight and this time he was sent inside to the Sanctuary to speak with this other Michael about why he followed this path, just trying to underrstand him.

A/N: I didn’t realize how difficult it was to write for two characters with the same name lol. I hope it doesn’t get too confusing for you guys.

Warnings: A little bit of cussing per usual.

The Truth Part Two (Avenger! Michael Langdon)

(Part One)

Michael couldn’t help it. He had always been one to let curiosity get the better of him, and this was clearly no exception.

He knew the risk that he was putting on himself, which was exactly why he didn’t tell any of the other Avengers what he was doing. He would rather put himself in harm’s way than any of his family.

Because of this, he waited until the middle of the night when everyone else was surely asleep. He wasn’t willing to take any chances in case someone would see what he was up to.

As he stepped onto the platform, he took a deep breath in to try and calm his nerves.

Although he was slightly worried, he also knew that he was simply facing himself again. If his theory was true, then the other Michael had the same abilities as he did, meaning that a chance battle would at least be fought fairly.

Michael raised his hand up and used his powers to flip the necessary switches on the control panel, quickly hitting the last button with a flick of his finger.

Within a second, Michael found himself in a dark compound of some sort. The only means of light were coming from dimly lit candles, making it difficult for him to see what was in this room.

As he turned around slowly, his eye caught slight movement, realizing who it was in an instant.

“Do you have a death wish?” the other Michael questioned, obviously annoyed that his alter ego had returned.

“I’m not here to harm you. I’m also not here to change anything you are planning on doing. I’ve had enough time altering experiences to satisfy the both of us,” he chuckled humorlessly. 

“Then why are you here?” he asked back, still skeptical.

“To get some answers.”

The two of them stared back at each other for a while, waiting for some type of sign to speak.

Finally, the prophesied Michael flicked his finger, forcing the other Michael to remain stiff as board, unable to move anything but his mouth.

“Very well. Ask away,” he responded afterwards. 

He took a seat in one of his chairs, his eyes never leaving his exact replica before him. It’s not like it would have mattered either way, however. The standing Michael couldn’t have done anything even if he wanted to.

“You’re really so threatened by me that you feel the need to keep me stationary?” he asked his evil twin.

“Who better to know my weaknesses than myself?”

He interlocked his fingers together, quirking up his brow as a way to say “get on with the questions.”

Michael let out a sigh and tried to think of what to ask.

“What caused you to take this path, to follow the prophecy that you knew was wrong? And cut me any of the bullshit. We both know how well we like to hide the truth.”

The seated version of himself gave him a stern look, clearly taken aback by how forward he was.

“Hmm, I see you didn’t lose any of your daring behavior. Before I answer that however, I want you to answer something for me.” He adjusted himself in his seat, leaning back against his chair in a relaxed manner. “At what point did your timeline differ from this one? What changed?”

The other Michael wasn’t prepared to be the one answering the questions. Nonetheless, he knew it was only fair to provide some type information.

“Our lives were exactly the same up until 2015.”

Michael tensed up a bit in his seat.

“So then you know exactly all the shit we went through? The pain, the abandonment, the suffering?” his words became tainted with venom, a clear sign of hurt being revealed in his eyes.

Michael stared back at his pained self, knowing exactly what memories he was referring to.

“Of course I do. We felt like there was no one in this galaxy that cared.”

“Except for Father,” his twin spoke out. A quick glance to the ground was enough to show who he was referring to.

“He is no father to you or to me. He wanted to use us for his dirty work. Did it ever cross your mind that if we didn’t get the job done, he would just move on to the next person? He doesn’t give a fuck about us!”

This caused the other Michael to stand up from his chair, taking quick steps to face the frozen Michael.

“He was the only one that was there! He was the only one that gave us some sort of purpose!”

“What purpose is that?! To murder billions of people and destroy the world? What joy does that bring you?”

“The joy of knowing that I was finally doing something right!” he shouted loudly, suddenly not caring about how much his voice was echoing off the walls. “I finally did something that someone actually wanted me to do. For fuck’s sake, you know what I’m talking about!”

Michael remained quiet at this, hoping the fuming man before him would calm down slightly.

Eventually, he spoke up again, trying to remain steady in his voice.

“I know how all of that feels. But I come from a timeline where I chose a different family. I saved the world. I found genuine love, and I get the opportunity to do good every single day. This prophecy wasn’t our only option.”

The other Michael looking back at him let out a scoff, not fully accepting what was being said.

“Caring for those unloving humans isn’t good. Bringing them to their inevitable fates is what they deserved.”

“And what now? You succeeded in the Apocalypse! You killed almost everyone like you were supposed to! But what is there to do now? Did any of that cure the loneliness or the heartbreak you suffer from?”

This only angered Michael more, causing his powers to be unleashed without control. The room became chaos, papers and furniture slamming against all corners of the room.

“This is the life I deserve, Michael. You should just accept the fact that we don’t get a happy ending.”

“You and me both know that’s not true.”

“Really? I choose my own fate. What’s keeping me from killing you right now? Happiness is temporary, and I can make the choice to take it away from you in the blink of an eye. Tell me, what purpose do you have besides this one?”

The standing Michael could feel the recognizable sense of fear in his gut, but he pushed it down. He trusted that whatever happened, his family at home would remain safe.

“There is more to life than just doing what some 'being’ wants you to do. I can’t prevent you from killing me, but that won’t stop the others. There are versions of us even kinder than me and more destructive than you. There is a timeline where you kill me and one where you let me go. I don’t know which we’re in right now, and neither do you. And truthfully, there is a timeline where you fulfill everything Father wanted you to do, and one where you fail. There are going to be endless versions and alterations of us, and you will never be able to stop it.”

The evil Michael before him stood there with widened eyes, noticeable tears beginning to spill down his cheeks.

“Go,” he whispered. 

With a raise of his hand, the once frozen Michael was set free to move again. 

He clenched his hands a few times to regain some feeling in them, shifting his gaze back to his broken twin.

“Go!” he screamed out again, using his magic to shove the kind Michael to the ground.

With a final shared look, Michael pressed the button near his wrist, sending him back to his home.

He blinked a couple times, only to be met with the familiar walls he had grown to love.

Although he knew it was late, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the platform. He felt more secure just sitting there, evaluating everything that had just occurred.

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, Jenna, you have been accepted to AL for the role of Alecto Carrow (FC: Victoria Pedretti). Jenna!!! Wow, so excited that you’re picking up Alecto! She’s such a badass and I can’t wait to see her on the dash. Your biography of Alecto really draws out this character that’s so often one dimensional in this world. I think she’s going to add a lot of conflict to the gorup in the best way possible. EEp I’m PUMPED! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — jenna age — 20 pronouns — she/her timezone — gmt+10

IC Overview

name — alecto carrow age — 25 gender — cis female sexuality — bisexual patronus — non-corporeal, but it would take the form of a vulture. boggart — her brother lies dead at her feet, her parents standing above him, somehow more vicious looking than they are in reality. “it’s your fault,” they sneer, as alecto notices the blood on her hands.

IC In Depth

personality traits — ( + ) dedicated - though she may be dedicated to the wrong people and causes, Alecto is dedicated. If she decides she wants something, she will go after it with everything she had, and she won’t rest until whatever she wants is hers. Maybe it comes from the deep sense of entitlement she’s been raised with, or her insatiable need to be acknowledged and appreciated. ( + ) headstrong - Alecto has her opinions, and she won’t be swayed on them. She also will make them known, loudly, and publicly. She’s not a complete idiot, and has learnt to kept some of her more… unsavoury opinions under wraps since the end of the war, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still believe them. ( + ) loyal - Though Alecto rarely gets close to people, those she decides she trusts have her undivided loyalty, especially to her brother. She also has a strong loyalty to the Dark Lord, still trying to find a way to bring him back even years after his defeat. ( - ) ruthless - This goes hand in hand with her dedication, Alecto will stop at nothing to get what she wants, including hurting ( or even killing ) people to get her way. ( - ) brash - She can be incredibly rude, overbearing, and obnoxious. She asserts herself over everyone and anything she believes to be beneath her, and often comes across quite poorly. ( - ) vicious - Alecto is a shark raised by sharks, you don’t grow up how she did without earning teeth of your own.

character biography —

Alecto Carrow was not a wanted child, this much has always been abundantly clear.

The marriage of Alecto’s parents was not one born of love or affection, but of duty. They both hailed from affluence, highly-regarded pureblooded families, and shared values typical of such a background. The sole purpose of their marriage was to produce an heir and perpetuate their bloodlines, nothing more, and nothing less. Only a year after their marriage, they had succeeded in this endeavour with the birth of their son, Amycus. He was exactly what they had wanted in a child; he was the perfect pureblood heir. Unfortunately, he would not be the only child the couple would sire.

Alecto was not expected. The exact nature of her conception remains elusive to this day. Some speculate that Alecto came into existence one night after her parents had a little too much to drink at one of their parties, falling into bed together before they could think about the consequences of what they were doing. They never wanted a second child, let alone a daughter, but, nine months later, they were one again at St Mungo’s awaiting Alecto’s arrival. Unlike her brother, Alecto was born screaming, demanding attention from the very moment her lungs were able to draw breath, turning her face red and angry with the effort of it. Maybe that’s where they got her name from – unceasing anger. She didn’t stop crying for almost a full day.

She was brought home from the hospital the next day and instantly thrust into the arms of awaiting nannies. To the Carrows, children weren’t something that required a lot of hands-on attention, they weren’t something to be cared for or raised carefully. They existed solely to preserve their legacy, and as long as they were capable of that, the rest of the day-to-day maintenance could be seen to by household staff. Alecto’s father had a job at the Ministry which kept him exceptionally busy, and her mother never worked, instead spending her days out fraternising with her peers and climbing up the social ladders of pureblood society. They paid little attention to Alecto, leaving her mostly neglected in her nursery, save for curious visits from her older brother, wanting to catch a glimpse of his new sibling.

The Carrow household was cruel and cold, and with their parents rarely around, Amycus and Alecto came to rely on one another. During her childhood, Alecto’s only solace was in her relationship with Amycus, despite both of them inheriting many of their parents’ less desirable qualities, the siblings had a close bond. They genuinely cared for each other, though they often had strange ways of showing it. There were few people who could truly understand the childhood that Alecto had experienced, and fewer still who could understand Alecto, but her brother has always been the closest. Alecto idolised her brother, she wanted to be just like him, and she his was the only direction she would follow without question.

Lessons for Amycus and Alecto began very early in life. Lessons on what to say, when to say it, and who to say it to. They were trained to hate anything that was different to them – and hate, Alecto would. Perhaps, had she been raised differently, she would have become a far more kind and empathetic soul, but, then again, this is perhaps a slight exaggeration. Something inside of her may have been broken from the beginning – she accepted the hate-filled ideas her parents presented her with. She accepted the prejudices, the fact that she was simply better than everyone else. That, because of the blood that ran through her veins, she deserved to have the world grovelling at her feet.

While Alecto took to her lessons of cruelty and superiority like a moth to a flame, there were other lessons she didn’t take quite so well to. For the most part, Amycus and Alecto were raised identically, but, as they grew a little older, their paths started to diverge. Amycus was the male heir, he was trained to carry the Carrow name with pride, while Alecto was taught to rid herself of it as soon as possible. Her parents intended for her to marry a nice young man ( preferably one from the shortlist of candidates they’d had picked since her birth ) as soon as she was of age – Alecto herself had different ideas.

The two years between Amycus leaving for Hogwarts and Alecto doing the same were two of the loneliest of her life. She became aware of how quiet their house was, without her brother in it. Her parents ignored her even further when Amycus wasn’t around, when she wasn’t sticking to him like gum to the bottom of a shoe. She tried her hardest to please them, but eventually realised that doing exactly what they wanted wasn’t working. So, like many neglected children, Alecto reached the conclusion that negative attention was better than no attention at all. She had always tried to tone down aspects of her personality to appease her parents, but Alecto wasn’t the porcelain doll they always wanted.

She was sent off to Hogwarts at eleven, and it was a breath of fresh air. She was sorted into Slytherin, like her brother before her, and quickly established herself within the cohort with her good looks and her strong opinions. It certainly helped her that she bore the same last name as her brother, who had already amassed a number of allies in the Slytherin dorms, simply adding his sister to his posse once she arrived. She was loud and unapologetic and gained herself a rather unsavoury reputation – but people couldn’t help but be enthralled by her. Much like at home, much of the attention was negative, but it was attention, and she would take it.

Though she always had a certain charm, a magnetism to her, Alecto never really played well with others. Her parents wanted her to be beautiful, charismatic, but submissive – capable of pleasing the sons of their friends. Submissive was the real problem. Even during her childhood, Alecto had cunning and ambition to rival the greatest of Slytherins, she was callous and brash. She met any attempts at courting from young men with a sneer, as she matured, she decided she found far greater pleasure from the physical relationship than an emotional one. Alecto was not at all like what her parents expected her to be in this regard, and they never made their displeasure a secret.

The war was something Alecto had always been ready for. Her parents had believed it was inevitable, that they would need to fight to rid the world of muggles and muggleborns once and for all, to ensure that only purebloods remained. They trained their children to believe the same. Alecto knew that she would one day need to fight, that she would be thrust into war. Her father insisted on special training to ensure she would be of use to their master – dark magic was something she became intimately familiar with when she came home for summers during her school years, training to withstand the cruciatus curse, to counter dark spells, to wield them herself.

While rumours of war that swirled around during her final years of Hogwarts set most people on edge, they simply invigorated Alecto. Amycus had already graduated, he was already doing his part, and Alecto desperately wanted to do the same. Though she had given up on winning the affections of her parents a long time ago, she wanted to please the Dark Lord, she wanted Amycus to be proud of her, and she wanted to do what she believed was the right thing. She grinned with maniacal glee as she received the dark mark – and if she saw her parents smile as she did so, she never mentioned the fact.

What she hadn’t been prepared for was losing. At the tender age of twenty, Alecto had never really known what it was to lose. On October 31st, 1981, she found out – and she didn’t like it. Nobody had anticipated that the Dark Lord would fall, least of all Alecto. Her parents immediately went into damage control, trying desperately to restore their name before the hammer fell. Their children wouldn’t be so lucky. It had been Amycus who suggested that only one of them needed to go to Azkaban – Alecto had first imagined it would be her, but Amycus took the fall for the both of them, accepting his sentence and insisting that Alecto keep herself out of it, to keep serving their master while he was away.

Not only had everything Alecto ever believed fallen apart, she’d lost her brother and her best friend, and, if his life sentence was to believed, she might not ever see him again.

Alecto had still been living with her parents at the time, but when she returned home after Amycus’ trial alone, she endured a wrath she could have only imagined up until that moment. It didn’t matter that it had been Amycus’ idea for her to walk free – they were furious that their male heir was to go away while they were given Alecto as, what? A consolation prize? Though she was fairly certain they’d calm down eventually, Alecto took the first opportunity she could to leave her parents’ house and get out on her own. She managed to secure herself a position at the Ministry, and has been doing her best to provide for herself in the years since her brother’s arrest. She may not be living the life they imagined for her, and they may vocalise their displeasure whenever she sees them, but it simply spurs Alecto on.

Alecto believes that the Lark Lord will return one day, and she intends to be the one to bring him back. She has been searching far and wide for any trace of her father, detailing her expedition in her letters to her brother. Of course, she has no idea where to begin. Her ‘search’ is more of a vague exploration, hoping against hope that she will stumble upon something. She’s trying to prove to herself, to her brother, to her parents, and to her peers, that Amycus made the right decision – that she’s better off on the outside, that by avoiding arrest, she can make use of herself and help bring back the Dark Lord. To Alecto, it’s almost like a race, and she thinks she’s vicious and scrappy enough to do what it takes.

She just hopes Amycus really did make the right decision.

plot ideas —

Amycus | Honestly, her relationship with her brother is probably the closest thing that Alecto has to a healthy relationship, and that’s saying a lot. The pair are still deeply dysfunctional - Alecto craves the validation she never received from her parents from her brother, and would literally follow him into hell. Letting him be imprisoned after the war was something that was incredibly difficult for her, so I’d love to explore how she’s been coping without her big brother’s guidance. She’s managed to get herself a fairly decent job and an apartment on her own.. did she ever really need him in the first place? I’d also love to see Amycus as a playable character in the future ( perhaps Alecto could even be involved in his breakout from Azkaban… hint hint ), to explore their dynamic properly, as well as how it has changed in the years they’ve been separated. Death Eaters | Alecto is on a quest to bring back Voldemort, and this probably isn’t a secret to anyone who she believes to be sympathetic to her cause. Of course, she doesn’t want any help because she wants the entirety of the credit for herself, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t curious about what exactly she’s doing ( please can somebody call her out on her stunning lack of progress? ). I’d also like to see her interact with some of the less loyal Death Eaters. She’s big on dedication and loyalty, and if she feels that there’s traitors in their midst, Alecto will not hesitate to make this known… or exploit it for her own gain. Ministry | Alecto works as an Obliviator for the Ministry. She’s not so stupid as to go around telling everyone that she’s an active supporter of You-Know-Who, but for anyone who was part of the Order ( or with any common sense ), it’s not hard to figure out where her loyalties lie – her brother is in Azkaban for being a Death Eater, and her parents are active pureblood supremacists. I’d like to see her trying to keep up appearances at the Ministry, interacting with former Order members or even muggleborns… how much will it take for her to crack?

extra —

mock blog / pinterest / playlist

extras that didn’t fit in the bio:

Parents. Alecto’s relationship with her parents has always been strained, however, over the last few years it has become even more so. They have made little secret of the fact that they would prefer Alecto be rotting in Azkaban than Amycus. Alecto doesn’t see them very often, and when she does, they’re trying to pressure her to marry a nice pureblood man before they’re all gone, or making her feel even worse about Amycus’ imprisonment. She still has a great deal of respect for her parents, but she knows they’ll never have a great relationship.

Residence. Alecto lives in a small apartment not far from Diagon Alley. It’s quite lavish, more than she should be able to afford with her salary, but she had considerable financial assistance when buying it… her parents couldn’t have her living on the street, could they?

Occupation. Alecto works as an Obliviator for the Ministry. She’s always been quite skilled with charms ( though she usually uses her skills for evil rather than good ), and her father had always told her that having a job at the Ministry was a good position to be in ( well, he’d said her husband should have a job at the Ministry, close enough ). She doesn’t enjoy having to interact with muggles… but she does enjoy robbing them of their memories.

Romance. Alecto isn’t one for commitment, but she learnt young that her looks were a powerful weapon, and one she wields expertly. She likes to toy with people, and she’s not fussed about anything so trivial as gender ( blood status is the only thing that matters to her ). She’s never considered herself bisexual, much less put a public label on it, but if she gave it any thought, that’s probably the conclusion she’d arrive at. She’s never told her parents about her relationships with women, and has no intention to.

[bittykimmy13]

Ruby Red (GT)

Don’t panic. He had every right to panic. Don’t! Panic! Warren’s back ached as he pressed himself against one of the cold, jagged stones that circled a massive fire pit. Straight ahead, the safety of the barren trees called to him, but he couldn’t afford to move. The sun had already dipped out of sight, but its rays were still present enough to paint the sky pink. He should have known the human would return to the campsite before dark. Snow crunched beneath the human’s boots as he moved about the campsite. Warren had gotten a look at him from the high safety of a branch that morning: a blond-haired man who couldn’t be much older than Warren himself. From a distance, Warren had been able to convince himself that most of the human’s bulk was due to the thick clothes he wore. Now that Warren was stranded on the ground, the human was towering whether he wore three coats or none. An explosive sound crashed behind Warren. He clapped his hands over his mouth to stuff down a scream. As his ears rang, he realized the human must have dumped a pile of wood into the fire pit. Warren huddled down lower in the snow, shivering and muffling whimpered gasps into his palms. Please, please, no, don’t let him see me, please. I won’t be this stupid again. I won’t eat for a week if it means I can get away, just please, please, please, don’t let him see me, I swear I won’t—

There was a sharp hiss behind him, then the snap and crackle of the wood bursting into flames. Heat viciously licked at Warren’s back and spurred him to scramble forward, tripping over snow. No sooner than he got to his feet, he tripped again, desperately fighting to straighten himself on the uneven ground. “Gah!” The human’s shout of surprise was like cannon-fire. “What in the hell…” Warren didn’t dare look back even when he heard the human’s boots shift on the snow. He forced himself to stand and keep moving forward. He fought with all his might to summon his abilities, to enchant the tree roots to come to his aid and buy him some time. But it was the dead of winter, and the woods were not keen on responding. Powdery snow juddered around Warren in time to the giant footfalls closing in fast, making his sprint more of a pitiful stagger. The yellow, flickering campfire light danced on the white landscape menacingly, but it was blotted out by an even more foreboding shadow that fell over him. In mid-step, his ankle was snared and smothered in pressure. His momentum came to a jerking halt, and he fell face first in the snow. He kicked and clawed at the forest floor in a desperate attempt to prevent the inevitable. As he was hoisted upside down, his face scraped with agonizing iciness against the ground. Snow blinded his eyes. He coughed and sputtered, barely able to draw a full breath. Wind whipped around him with his ascent, which seemed to last for ages. The human had to be standing, bringing his catch up to eye level for a closer look. Blood rushed to Warren’s head, and he fought against the instinct to struggle. With snow in his eyes, he couldn’t even fathom how far the fall would be if he did manage to get his ankle to slip through the human’s pinched fingers. No sooner than Warren’s ascent came to a stop, something brushed roughly against his face. He recoiled, but it was impossible to draw back with the way he dangled. Squinting, Warren was met with a thumb the size of his face wiping the snow away. Remnants of ice still stung his cheeks, but at least he wasn’t blinded anymore. “Well, well.” The human dropped his second hand, allowing full view of huge green eyes that darted up and down Warren. “Didn’t think I’d find one of you out here, little guy.” He didn’t give Warren time to say a thing. The world juddered again with footsteps that carried the human over to a log laying by the fire. Even after he took a seat, the human still held Warren in that demeaning upside down position. The human cocked his head, moving his hand this way and that to get a view of Warren from different angles. Lightheaded, Warren grunted and began squirming again now that his fall would be shorter. He tried to swing his torso up and pry at the fingers closed around his ankle, but his attempts only made the human smirk. Fabric rustled. The human raised his other hand again and extended a finger, this time prodding at Warren’s chest and shoulder. Then he grabbed Warren’s wrist, forcing his arm out to examine it. “S-stop!” Warren wrenched his arm, but the human’s grip was unshakeable. “Please! Let me go!” The human’s eyes widened with deeper fascination at the sound of Warren’s voice. Squeezing his eyes shut, Warren gave a cry of effort and tried again to twist his hand free. To his shock, the grip loosened, and the human allowed him to reclaim his arm. “Hey, hey, relax,” the human said, as if he was soothing a spooked animal. “I’m not aiming to hurt you, if that’s what you’re freaking out over.” Warren began to catch his breath when the human lowered him. The open air below him was replaced by a gloved palm. He tumbled onto his side and lurched away from the pinching fingers the moment his ankle was free. There was no time to even think about scrambling over the side of the hand before it closed, trapping him in a fist. His arms were pinned to his sides. The fingers locked into place. It would take a careless squeeze of pressure for the human to crunch his ribs. Before Warren could plead again for his freedom, the human mused. “I thought the wood nymphs in this area were relocated over a year ago.” The terror blaring through Warren’s senses mingled with heartache. “Th-they… they were.” That was what the humans who had raided the forest claimed, anyway. For all he knew, his clan was dead. The human raised his eyebrows. “Looks like they missed one.” Much to Warren’s relief, the grip loosened slightly. There was enough room to breathe, but his frightened lungs refused to offer more than short gasps. But perhaps this human could be reasoned with. The rough handling could have been from Warren’s sudden appearance at the campsite. Big and frightening as the human was, maybe he would be willing to put Warren down once his curiosity was satisfied. “I got away,” Warren said, daring to meet the human’s overwhelming gaze. “I… I didn’t want to leave. No one did. It was chaos. I managed to get out of sight. When the dust settled, there was no one else around… Just me.” “That sucks.” The human shook his head, curious eyes raking Warren up and down again. “Was it worth it?” “W-what?” “You know, staying out of sight. Since you’ve been alone out here, don’t you kinda wish you’d gotten taken with your friends?” That exact question had been Warren’s only companion for over a year. Had it not been already plaguing him day and night, it would have stunned him into silence, but solitude had allowed him plenty of time to settle on the answer. “No. I don’t regret it.” He managed to draw a full breath finally, and his shoulders even relaxed despite still being trapped. “This is my home.” The human scoffed. “Sorry you’ll be leaving it. Should’ve stayed with your friends, little guy. Or you should’ve not been stupid enough to come right to a campsite.” Silence hung in the air. The words took whatever hope Warren had raised and stamped it down below the earth. The human was still watching closely, seeming to hold his breath as he awaited a reaction. Warren’s throat closed, and his voice came out as a croak. “What?” “You’ll fetch a good price. I’d be an idiot to pass this up.” The human unfurled his hand slightly and tilted his palm back. His other hand approached and prodded at Warren again, appraising him like merchandise that might be damaged if he wasn’t careful. “Wish I could say you’d end up back with your friends, but I doubt it. The Agency doesn’t pay. Plenty of people are always looking for exotic pets, though.” “You can’t do that!” The words felt like knives forcing their way up Warren’s throat. He pushed wildly at the intruding fingers and kicked to straighten himself. “Let me go!” The hand closed again, tighter this time. Warren grunted and writhed for all he was worth. The indifference on the human’s face morphed into an amused grin as he watched his catch struggle futilely. “Hey, it’ll be a hell of a lot better than living out here alone. I’m sure they’ll treat you good, whoever buys you.” He clicked his tongue when Warren’s struggles didn’t calm. “Besides if you’re so terrified of getting caught, why’d you come here?” “I-I was looking for food!” Warren’s nerves were electrified. He hadn’t felt this way since fleeing the regulation agency during the raid. Except now, there was no room for him to run, nowhere to go. “P-please! Just let me go, I’m not a pet!” The human scoffed, and his rumbling voice drowned out Warren’s pleas. “If you need to rely on scavenging from campers for food, you probably wouldn’t have lasted the winter anyway.” When Warren tried wrenching himself to the side, he caught a bright splash of color from the corner of his eye. He narrowed his gaze, and his struggled slowed. There was an open bag sitting by the log, along with some other food supplies. The bag held berries—ruby red and juicy. “Did you eat any of those?” Warren blurted. The human frowned and followed Warren’s gaze, then grabbed the small drawstring sack. “Not yet. Never seen gooseberries this bright. They’re all over the place around here.” His eyes slid back to Warren, narrowing in a sneer. “If you’re good, maybe I’ll give you a few, since you’re so hungry.” He grabbed a couple of berries in his free hand and raised them to his mouth. “No, don’t! Don’t eat those!” Warren began squirming again, eyes wide. “They’re sacred to the forest, don’t!” His words choked off when the human squeezed his fist tighter. Pain shot through his middle, and even when the hand loosened once more, a throbbing ache left him breathless. “Do I look like I give a damn about what’s sacred?” The human popped the berries into his mouth. Warren went perfectly still. He started to say something, then stopped himself. Even as dread uncoiled through him, he stayed quiet. There were many things he could have said to get the human to spit out the berries, but as the pain continued to throb through Warren’s ribs, he suddenly had no desire to say a word. He merely watched. The reaction was underway in a mere minute. It started with a cough, and then the human began wheezing. His grip faltered on Warren. The wheezing morphed into deeper gasps, and the grip failed completely. Warren fell to the human’s lap, then scrambled down onto the log. He made a run for it, but there was no need. When he reached the end of the log, he looked over his shoulder and saw the human sinking to his hands and knees in the snow. “W-what—” The human heaved and coughed. Bright red speckles flew from his lips and melted into the snow. His arms shook as he turned his head to Warren. “What the hell i-is—” He tapered off, shuddering. “I tried to warn you,” Warren said, chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “Those aren’t gooseberries. If those berries are growing all around, wouldn’t I have eaten them instead of bothering you here?” The human uttered a pained curse and continued heaving, but it was no use trying to cough the berries out. It was the strangest thing, seeing a behemoth lose all strength. Those massive eyes stared with inconsolable terror, and Warren wanted to look away. Still, his gaze stayed locked as the human’s arms lost the will to hold him up and he sank until he was laying on the ground. Warren swallowed hard. “I’m…” No. Sorry would be a lie. Horrified? Yes. Relieved? Absolutely. And that was even more horrifying. Warren wished a breeze would whistle through the trees. He wished there were leaves to rustle. He would have welcomed any sound to distract him from knowing the exact moment the human drew his last breath. And then the silence was absolute. He couldn’t be sure how long he stood there, staring and thinking about how different things would be for him at that moment if he had flat out told his captor he was eating poison. With a steeling breath, Warren climbed down from the log and waded through the snow to search the human’s food supplies.

[cordytriestowrite]

Keeping Up Appearances

Bucky x Reader

Fake Dating AU

Chapter 2 - All Other Chapters

Summary: When an old friend comes back into your life you struggle to maintain the lies you've told. Bucky Barnes has no idea what he's gotten into by agreeing to be your fake boyfriend, but you have no idea what to do about the very real feelings you have for him.

Manhattan glimmered in what remained of the day's light. You could see it as you crossed the Manhattan bridge in Bucky's car. It's like it was mocking you, presenting places you remembered vividly, like how you would remember a dream right after waking up. You had hoped the memories, like your dreams, would fade over time until the specifics were so fuzzy it wasn't worth trying to recall, but here they were cutting through your mind like sharp scissors.

Most of your Manhattan memories included Pepper. Shopping, dining, living, dancing, roaming the streets at three in the morning just to see who was awake; that was who you used to be.

Bucky let out a low whistle as he passes La Bernardin looking for a place to park. You quickly look down at your dress. You hoped Pepper didn't recognize it, having helped you pick it out on one of your many shopping trips. The black fabric was only slightly faded and you hoped the lighting of the restaurant would stave off any notice. You quickly swiped your eyes over Bucky again, hair brushed and styled, shirt unwrinkled, he didn't shave but you liked the way the stubble framed his full lips.

You hadn't noticed he had pulled into a parking garage not far from La Bernardin until he was unbuckling his seat belt. You checked the time displayed on the dash before the car was shut off: 5:52 pm. You released yourself from the seat belt and turned your body awkwardly towards the driver's seat prompting Bucky to remain in the car despite the air rapidly becoming hot and stuffy.

"Whatever level they reach we have to match it, otherwise it won't look real."

He nodded, but the look in his eyes told you he did not really take in the significance of your words. He hadn't met Pepper, he doesn't know the way she thinks.

"I'm serious. If they are holding hands, we have to hold hands. If they feed off of each other's plates we do too. If they kiss-"

"I get it! I get it!" Bucky says with a laugh, escaping the uncomfortable heat of the car. You followed him out and took the slight slope down to the garage entrance.

"I do want to draw a line right now. If he starts sucking on her toes I'm not doing that. Feet creep me out."

You shoved him lightly for his joke but didn't protest when he came back to you so that your shoulders brushed closer than before. You needed his jokes, you needed his casual attitude to anchor you down. Was this how you always used to be? So on edge and guarded, thinking every word and action thoroughly before execution; how had you survived this. You didn't you thought bitterly, you only prolonged the inevitable.

She was seated at the table already, facing the door and giving you no time to compose yourself or stop Bucky's oogling as he took in the decor. You should have told him to act like he had been here before.

She waved, her movements the perfect mixture of relaxed and controlled, the wave of royalty. You lifted your hand back and wiggled a few fingers, feeling like your hand was too big all of a sudden and you realized your nails were still short and unpolished. You brought your hand quickly to your side. She stood as you reached the table and drew you into a hug.

"How are you?" She gushed, he voice loud in your ear but soft in the hush of the restaurant, "I've missed you so much. Come on, sit."

Bucky, who had stood a respectable distance back as you reunited, strode forward as you parted. He grabbed the back of his chair and pulled it out, sitting before you. Pepper raised an eyebrow, in the minute way she did when she found something interesting. You lowered yourself into your chair next to Bucky and across from Pepper.

"So, where is he? I thought we were introducing boyfriends today." You tried to play it off as a joke, keeping your smile affixed to your face, but inside you were fuming. If her boyfriend didn't show up then you and your 'boyfriend' would be the main show for the evening and the facade wouldn't make it through the first course.

"He's running a little late." Was all she said.

The waiter came around with sparkling water and a wine menu which you studiously ignored, needing your wits about you. Bucky didn't seem interested in the wine or the water, and his face was becoming more and more of a grimace as his eyes read each line of the menu.

"Babe," you called, the word sounding odd in your ears as you looked at Bucky, "introduce yourself to Pepper." You added a subtle hand to his knee under the table, hoping he would respond to the pet name but ready to squeeze if his attention did not redirect to your friend.

He looked up and smiled wide, first at you, then at Pepper, "Bucky Barnes."

His hand reached out dangerously between the glasses to shake hers. You watched Pepper accept his hand with grace and quirk her eyebrow just so again. You wanted to bang your head against the table. You wish you had had more time to coach Bucky, he didn't even know the basics!

Pepper opened her mouth, as if to ask Bucky a question, but her eyes moved from him to just behind you. Her face broke out into a wide smile, her shining eyes crinkling. She looked so happy it took you aback. You turned slightly and watched the object of her attention stroll toward your table, head high and confidence palpable. It felt like he owned the room and very well might have, because he was Tony Stark. The Tony Stark!

"Holy shit." Bucky muttered in disbelief, you should have scolded him with a glare or a squeeze to his knee but you were just as shocked. Tony Stark rounded the table, kissing the top of Pepper's head before settling himself into the last empty seat at the table.

There were no need for introductions, everyone knew Tony Stark and Tony Stark didn't care to know anyone but Pepper. He flagged down a random waiter and ordered a bottle of wine so quickly you couldn't even catch the name. He must come here a lot or expect wherever he goes to have exactly what he wants.

"Sorry, conference call ran over. Did you order yet?" He said to Pepper and only to Pepper. You must not even register on his radar. You started when you felt an arm encircle your upper back. You turned to look at Bucky, the first time your eyes had left your latest dining guest. His head tilted slightly to the couple across from you and you noticed Tony's arm draped over the back of Pepper's chair as they spoke quietly. You turned back to Bucky and smiled with a nod of approval.

You breathed deeply and settled into the crook of Bucky's arm, half wanting to seem at ease and half finding yourself actually at ease, feeling warm and comfortable as you inhaled the scent of his deodorant. It wasn't expensive or heavily perfumed, in fact you were sure Bucky used Old Spice bought in packs of two or four but the smell mixed appealingly with his own scent and you breathed in deep and greedy wondering if you would ever get to be this close to him again, wondering if next time it could be because he wanted to and not just for show.

Tony proceeded to order for everyone when the waiter came back with the wine. You smiled in thanks as a glass was poured for you but did not touch the expensive alcohol. You continued to smile so politely it made your jaw hurt. You weren't a fan of the oysters Tony got for the table.

"So how did this happen?" Bucky asked when the waiter left, his free hand moving back and forth between Peoper and Tony. Your hand, which you just realized was still on his knee, was warm and sweaty. You moved it up and down in short strokes along his pants to dry it.

"We actually met at a friend's wedding in Scotland." Pepper began with a gush of happiness, your painful smile relaxed. You were happy to see her so happy.

"We both knew the groom-" Pepper continued while Tony was leant back against his chair, sipping wine. His eyes remained only on Pepper behind his purple tinted glasses. They looked happy. They looked like they were in love. You hoped you and Bucky looked the same.

"-After a few months of long distance I ended my trip early and came back home to be with him." She finished, bringing her body back against her seat and looking into Tony's eyes. They were lost to the outside world for a few moments and you felt Bucky shift uncomfortably next to you. They broke their connection when Pepper turned to face you again.

"Tell me how you met. You have been so secretive about this one in your letters." Pepper said with a finger trained towards Bucky.

Your eyes widened and your breath hitched in your throat. You hadn't thought of this, hadn't come up with a cute story of how you two met. You were so screwed.

"We met when she moved in next door to me about two years ago." Bucky began in your silence, "The day she moved in was very noisy. I could hear her all day though the wall of my bedroom. Around eleven I was in bed and I heard this loud banging that was rattling my wall. I got out of bed so pissed off and I stomped over to her door and banged just as loudly as she had been doing on my wall. She opened the door and all anger I felt melted away." He looked over to you then as if you were the only two people in the room as he continued. "She just looked so adorable in her pajamas with her hair a mess. We got to talking and...here we are."

Bucky was good. Very, very good. It wasnt the exact story. Yes, you had met the day you moved in and yes you had been hammering a few nails into the wall you didn't know you shared with Bucky. But when Bucky came around banging on your front door late at night there was no beginnings to a love story. What you did could barely be considered talking it was more of a screaming match.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Do you? Because you're the one banging on my door at almost midnight."

"You're the one banging on my wall at almost midnight."

The whole thing ended with you slamming the door in Bucky's face. Since then you had calmed down, especially as your friendship with Sam blossomed and you ended up seeing Bucky more and more. You realized Bucky was looking at you in soft amusement that to the others probably looked very romantic. You couldn't help leaning forward and kissing his cheek whispering a thank you in his ear before pulling back.

"Cute." Tony's tone was short and clipped, like he didn't think the story was that cute.

Pepper was watching you with interest, absently rubbing her pointer finger with her other hand.

"Such thin walls..." she mused, and your spine straightened, ready to find an excuse for your cheap apartment. Before the conversation could continue the first course of dinner was served and the table went silent as they ate or, in the case of Bucky, poke at the small, strange portions of food.

Throughout dinner and with each glass of wine Tony loosened up into a more engaged character. He was charismatic and a pleasant storyteller and kept Pepper's attention off of you and Bucky effectively blocking any opportunity to delve too deeply into your relationship. The whole table was laughing along with a story Tony was telling about his trip to Machu Picchu and the alpaca who decided Tony was his new mother when the check arrived.

You had been dreading this part more than anything else. The time to pay hundreds of dollars for a meal Bucky barely ate and you could barely stomach around your nerves. You fingered your credit card with anticipation of being handed that small black booklet containing your check.

"Thank you Bradly." Tony said to the waiter as he handed him a platinum card without making eyes contact. Your shoulders sagged in relief as Bradly walked away from the table.

"Thank you." You said, hoping not to sound to relieved as you put away your card.

Tony nodded once and waved you off draining the last of his wine.

"Any friend of my fiance is a friend of mine." He slurred. Pepper smacked his shoulder harshly.

"Tony!" Pepper chided. Her brows were furrowed in anger but her smile battled to win the feelings fight. She turned to you with a wide smile and pulled a chain from under her collar. Hanging from the end was a stunning, gold band with a large, sparkling diamond practically blinding you and it swung from the chain.

"Well, the secret is out. We're engaged!" She squealed with delight practically bouncing in her seat.

"I can't match that doll." Bucky whispered hurridly in your ear before you rose out of your chair to join Pepper in her excitement.

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[the95liner]

06. redamancy (pt. 1)

(n.) the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full

→ mxm, jimin x jeongguk✨ ; arranged marriage au / fake marriage au ; slow burn ; eventual smut ; eventual mpreg ; strangers to lovers ; pinch of angst ; sex humor ; stubborn assholes ; park jimin is a little shit ; jeon jeongguk is a little shit too ; top!jimin ; bottom!jungkook ; ceo!jungkook ; ceo!jimin ;  → cowritten by @touchmybangtan → AO3 Link

The suit he wears is nothing more special than what he’d wear on a day he’d roll into work. His sleeves smell faintly of herbs from the tea company as Jeongguk wears his cufflinks, fiddling as he closes the whale back studs. Jeongguk is taking his time, locking and unlocking the jewelry to stall the inevitable. Today, in respect to the media, this is the happiest day of his life. A young CEO marries to another company in the case of a hidden, modern day romance, sparked in secrecy and “shockingly revealed” with faked engagement rings that suspiciously matched. 

The real story is that Jeongguk had come home to his parents holding a gift box. They hadn’t even looked guilty when they told him to wear it out in public, to go to a coffee shop where there were tipped photographers waiting. Every little detail to this relationship of Jeongguk’s has been planned out for him. Jeongguk thinks he’s only met his groom once or twice before today. 

Music plays outside and the twenty-something groans. He cannot stomach weddings, and now he was only minutes from walking into his own. Jimin narrows his eyes at the clock in one of the massive churches dressing rooms. His time is money and he’s  wasting millions by attending this wedding. His wedding. Why is his marriage even happening in a church? This is not a union of two people, but rather a union of two companies. A courthouse would have sufficed. Clearly, the elder Jeon and Park wanted an opportunity to make the front page of the newspaper. What better way than the marriage of two of the richest heirs in the country? He couldn’t believe his parents had the audacity to arrange this marriage for him. As if Jimin were not an adult, as if he didn’t have feelings. There was always the option of a divorce…but there wasn’t for a Park. Parks don’t get divorces: they stay married for life. In a few moments, Park Jimin would be tied down to Jeon Jeongguk until death tears them apart. Jimin purses his lips. Jeon Jeongguk, he’s handsome enough; Jimin thinks back to the doe eyed, thin lipped man that he had the brief encounter with two weeks ago. He would give him beautiful children and perhaps it would be bearable to live with him. Senior Park knocks on the door, then comes inside. Jimin rises to his feet as his father fixed his three-piece tuxedo. “You look lovely, son.” His father says, smiling widely. Although his demeanour was friendly, Jimin heard the threat as his eyes bore into him. ‘Don’t fuck this up.’ They screamed. The young CEO smiles tightly back at him, before exiting the room and walking towards the main hall of church. He stood outside the french doors waiting for his future husband to join him so that they could walk together to the altar. Looking into a mirror, Jeongguk stares himself down. It’s almost like any morning, but he looks different, and his skin feels too tight on his body. The wedding isn’t a small one, with the press invited and the guests all high-profile persons. It’s meant to be beautiful and dramatic, something for the public to eat up and tabloids to milk for the next few months. Jeongguk doesn’t doubt they’ll be skipping honeymoons for interviews and returning to their offices. Growing up, Jeongguk expected that finding a partner would be a lot more romantic. He grew up with a genuine sparkle in his eyes, and now he only looks back on those pictures on the walls and pities the child in them, because now the door behind him is opening and he meets eyes with his parents through his reflection. All pairs of eyes are full of malice, dark and warning to each other. “I’m coming,” Jeongguk says, not waiting for one of them to speak. He already knows what to expect from them now. Closing his cufflinks for the last time, Jeongguk brushes past his father and ignores the way his mother ghosts a hand over his shoulder. Park Jimin is a petite man. His figure surprises Jeongguk every time his eyes fall on him. Today is their third meeting. They’ll be seeing each other a lot more after this, they might as well act as they’ve known each other much longer. As he walks up, Jeongguk gives him a smile, a practiced one like he had given him on their mock date just a few weeks prior. Jimin still smells the same: like a rich CEO. It’s the scent of overpriced cologne and harsh chemicals, meant to smell fresh and nice but Jeongguk can hardly stand it. There’s plenty of ears to catch his complaining, eyes and cameras to catch the discontent on his face. So instead, Jeongguk bows shallowly and adjusts his grin.

“Hey.”

It’s casual, modern. It’d be romantic in some bad teen romance. Jimin glances up at Jeongguk in acknowledgment. His cheeks tint pink as their eyes meet, Jimin’s memory had dwarfed the younger man, and as he stood beside him, Jeongguk’s proportions screamed his masculinity. “Hi,” Jimin’s voice is confident with a hint of anxiousness, exactly what the media wanted to hear. His lips curve into a small smile as he reaches to grasp Jeongguk’s hand, stepping closer towards the younger. His hand is cool, slim, but soft. Compared to Jimin’s, Jeongguk’s hand is large, practically engulfing Jimin’s. Jimin wrinkles his nose as he breathes in Jeongguk, the scent a mixture of the entirety of a forest. It’s as if Jeongguk rolled around in the mud before arriving. Jimin didn’t like it. Jimin watches as their parents laugh, joyously hugging for the cameras then proceeded to walk into the church to take their seats, but not before turning to give both of them a meaningful look. The message the media would take away is strikingly different from what Jimin and Jeongguk understand. Atmosphere now chilled, both men stand with taut muscles and uncertainty masking their features. Jimin’s grip on Jeongguk’s hand constricts with anger before it relaxes only moments after. Clearing his throat, he whispers a quiet apology incase he hurt the younger man, his gaze flickering to him. As the french doors open, Jimin allows a vibrant smile to grace his lips, just for the cameras that start flashing immediately. Jimin interlocks their fingers as the music starts playing. As they begin to walk towards the alter, the camera shutter becomes louder. Every bit of reminder of this publicity stunt is amplified, yet still only obvious to those in on the secret. The air is tainted with money and greed, almost too thick to drag into the lungs. Jeongguk feels blinded by the lights, the alter barely visible in between flashes. Quietly, his dips his head down closer to Jimin’s as they walk. It’ll look good on the cover of a magazine, his smile partially hidden and face hidden behind his bangs. The press will never have to know the uncertainty that passes through him. “We don’t really have to kiss, do we?” Jeongguk tightens his hand around the one in his as he asks. There’s no good reason for them to put on that much of a show. Maybe Jeongguk can kiss his cheek instead, smudge icing on the other side of his face once they get to the cake: It’d seem like a camera-shy act instead of them blatantly avoiding each other, but his parents may not agree. After the wedding, Jeongguk would have to worry about moving his things. For the past month, he’s been boxing up the luxury apartment his dad bought him when he entered the company. He’s only lived in it for two years. It makes him wonder how long this has been planned. The company hasn’t been failing, not that Jeongguk knows of at least. Their teas still sell and they’re comfortable enough to release new blends seasonally. Was it the Parks that was failing? Or is the only goal bigger figures for the both of them? Mulling it over, Jeongguk can see how great of an idea it is, but he’d still rather have all his freedom back. “We do,” Jimin said curtly as they reach the altar. Jimin lets go of Jeongguk’s fingers so he may face the man he’s finally marrying. The smile ever present on his lips, the pastor begins the ceremony and the guests fall quiet under the booming voice. News workers hold cameras from the end of the aisle, capturing a video to broadcast over and over again until the horse is dead and put in its grave. Jimin could not let his eyes stray from Jeongguk’s because of the audience, but he lets his mind wander. It has only been a few weeks, three to be exact, that his marriage to Jeongguk had been set in stone but already his life is changing. The day after his engagement, his father sent over a moving company to alter the layout of his bachelor pad into an apartment suit for a newly wed couple. It didn’t matter that he lived in a 1+1 condominium that would force him and Jeongguk to share a singular bed, in fact, that seemed to be the reason his father pushed the movement. His living arrangements were one thing he had decided to himself, his first home bought with his own money. And now, Jeongguk has robbed him of his privacy, as well as his freedom. Jimin listens as the pastor’s cues carefully, holding Jeongguk’s hands in time to recite their vows. “I, Park Jimin, take you, Jeon Jeongguk to be my husband from this day forward and these things I promise you: I will be faithful to you and honest with you; I will respect, trust, help, and care for you; I will share my life with you; I will forgive you as we have been forgiven; and I will try with you better to understand ourselves and the world; through the best and worst of what is to come, and as long as we live.” 

Although he didn’t know it yet, Jimin meant every word of his vows. He finished with a vibrant smile, his eyes never straying from Jeongguk. Jeongguk’s vows are similarly structured, if not spoken with a bored and emotionless tone. His head is tipped down, an effort to meet eyes with his very soon-to-be husband. If it wouldn’t be considered lazy, he would have slouched to be closer in height. Pursing his lips, Jeongguk listens to the pastor babble on further. Each passing word is a twist in his gut, because when they say “I do” their fate is sealed, and Jeongguk’s freedom is gone. He won’t be able to stay long hours in the office, or have drinks with his employees late in the night. Instead, he’ll be packing up early to go see his husband, and take him out for dinners so everyone will know that they’re real. They’re not real, though. Jeongguk is kicking himself for not arguing against his parents for this. He feels like property, handed off into another family for a couple more stacks of money on the table. When the pastor finally slows down again, his heavy voice weighing down on Jeongguk’s shoulders, Jeongguk doesn’t think he can do it. Jimin might be a nice guy, he’s not sure, but he really can’t fucking do it. Breaking eye contact, Jeongguk’s gaze travels. He looks at his expecting parents, all the guests that he really doesn’t know. He swallows the lump in his throat. “I do.” Jeongguk’s voice is small, coming out soft. He’s looking back at Jimin now, holding eye contact once again. His lungs can’t get enough air, his chest hurts. If this isn’t the beginning of some panic attack, Jeongguk is sure he’s about to just die altogether.

Jimin hears the hidden misery in Jeongguk’s soft tone. The younger man didn’t want this as much as he did, that much is clear, but here they both are. As Jimin parrots the two words that bond them forever, the pastor announces what the pair had been dreading since the beginning of the ceremony.

For most married couples, it was just a kiss. But right now, the kiss that Jimin and Jeongguk would share held enormous power. Jimin would bet his entire inheritance that it would be plastered on every newspaper and billboard for the rest of the month.

Jimin stares up at Jeongguk, unsure of who should make the first move. But as Jeongguk was frozen in place, his eyes wide as he stared at Jimin like a deer caught in the headlights, Jimin tilts his head and stands on the tips of his toes, slanting his mouth over Jeongguk’s. He moves to place Jeongguk’s hands on his waist before cradling his husband’s face, palms warming the already hot cheeks.

The church erupts in cheers and a loud applause, and Jimin leans away from Jeongguk’s mouth, pushing their foreheads together. His eyes remain closed, nose brushing against Jeongguk’s with a small smile gracing his lips. The perfect picture for the headlines.

Jeongguk’s hands tighten briefly around Jimin’s waist, his own eyes fluttering shut. It’s so odd to be this intimate with a stranger, to hold them close like they mean something. Still, Jeongguk allows himself to slouch, just a little bit, and bumps their noses together before moving to kiss Jimin’s forehead. He sells the act just as well as the other man does, desperate to make his parents and inlaws happy. As soon as they leave they’ll get some distance, but for another couple hours, they’ll be at each others side. Together they’ll thank guests with plastic smiles, and someone will cut the cake that would taste too sweet. Pulling away, Jeongguk stares down at his husband, eyes gleaming with tears that will probably be left unshed. Cameras flash and highlight all the wrong features on his face, and Jeongguk can already read the headlines. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, hands traveling to rest over the ones pressed to his cheeks. The intention is to remove them, so he locks their fingers together and brings their hands to rest between them. Jeongguk wants to yank away, the skin contact burning him in an unpleasant manner. He can’t, however, so he just holds on tighter and wishes for a quick night. Jimin smiles brightly at Jeongguk, before tightening his grip on his hand briefly. The cameras flashes attack the pair as they blindly walk straight towards the exit where their limousine would await them to escort them to their wedding party. The rest of the night becomes a blur. Although Jimin and Jeongguk spend the entirety of the party next to each other, they barely speak to one another. They were so busy entertaining their guests and making it seem as if everything was normal, as if they were delighted that today has finally happened, that they did not get a moment to themselves. As the night finally ends and Jimin sits down in the limousine, he let out a deep breath which feels more like getting rid of the weight of the world off his shoulders. He slumps against the back of the seat, closing his eyes as he loosens his tie. “God, what a nightmare.” They’re finally able to detach from each other. Jeongguk takes the liberty of sitting as far as possible, shrugging off his suit jacket to make the ride more comfortable. He checks his phone, briefing over news headlines before shutting the device off and sinking into his seat. “Whoever suggested you buy that cologne lied to you,” Jeongguk mentions, head rolling back. His head aches. The movers hopefully transported his things safely, though admittedly it wasn’t much. Jeongguk wasn’t allowed to bring much of his furniture, if any at all. Boxes of clothes should be the bulk of it, and he’s already dreading the challenge to find something to wear tonight. Too tired to bring himself to be angry over Jeongguk’s statement, Jimin just laughs. It’s dry, unkind.

“If I wanted your opinion I would have asked for it,” Jimin speaks without opening his eyes, hands against his lower abdomen. “You don’t need to ask for it, Hubby. We’re one in the same now, remember?” Jeongguk’s tone comes off as mocking, eyes bitter when he takes a peak at the other. They’re both tired, both exploited. They probably have a lot in common, but Jeongguk still can’t stand him. “And my opinion is that it stinks.” The other statement had just been a fact. “What I said was a more polite way of telling you that I really don’t give a fuck about your opinion, husband.” Jimin snorts at the term. Jimin glances at Jungkook through hooded eyes, then turns his face away from the younger. Stretching his legs out, Jeongguk leans forward against his knees. An amused smile turns the corners of lips up. This is the Jimin he remembers, the man he met at a small coffee shop with matching rings on their fingers. Jeongguk takes up a lot of space in the limo, daring the other to challenge him for it. “You’re prettier when you smile. Are you sure I just married you?” “It’s been more than 5 hours since we got married, but hey who’s keeping track? we only have the rest of forever today.” Jimin says sadistically. The smile upon his features smoothly melts into an ugly frown, aging his youthful features in a matter of seconds. Nudging Jimin’s leg with his foot, Jeongguk sighs. His styled hair is slowly falling down onto his forehead, proof of his worrying hands and the stressful hours that had dragged on the day. “You can at least look at me, it’s not like I proposed to you.” Jimin then turns to face Jeongguk, “Happy?” Before turning back to look outside the limousine, “I’m just keeping at an eye for the paparazzi. We’re getting close to my condominium.” Jimin turns back to face Jeongguk and smirks, “I hope you’re not expecting me to carrying you over the threshold.” “I won’t get my hopes up then, thanks for letting me know.”  

Unlike earlier that day, the way Jeongguk holds Jimin’s gaze is cold. Stubbornly, his chin tilts up, ankles coming together to cross. “I don’t think you’re enough of a big guy to carry me anyways.” Jimin’s rather petite, maybe has a bit of muscle hiding under those sleeves. Jeongguk knows it still wouldn’t be enough to lift him off the ground.

Flashing a charming smile, a brow arches. “Do you want me to carry you in, sweetheart?” Neither of the pair are surprised to see the paparazzi waiting for them to arrive in front of Jimin’s residence. The limousine comes to a halt and the cameras begin their horrid song.

“Yes actually, I do. Do you think you’ll be able to pumpkin?“ Jimin leans over and presses his forefinger against Jeongguk’s nose. When he steps out of the vehicle, he turns around asking for Jeongguk’s hand to escort him into his new home. It’s Act II. Gathering his things, Jeongguk takes Jimin’s hand only to kiss his knuckles before climbing out of the vehicle himself.

"Lead the way, pudding.”

Out of pity for himself, Jeongguk drops his husband’s hand, tucking his arms under his suit jacket instead. It’s rather dark outside now, but the flashes of the cameras provide more light than usual. Surely, it’s been awhile since Jeongguk has dealt with this many cameras. The last time had probably been the day he had started working for his father at the company. Jimin flinches as Jeongguk’s lips scrape across the back of his fingers. Thoroughly flustered, he walks towards the building checking back to ensure Jeongguk is still behind him as they enter the building. The security guards open the doors escorting the pair into their building then into Jimin’s condominium which has been transformed from his bachelor pad to a couple’s nest. Jimin purses his lips and commands the security to check the flat for any strays invading their privacy. Jeongguk stands behind Jimin, his frame towering above the other. He looks over his new home, eyes landing on unpacked boxes that have yet to be moved into the bedroom.

“That’s a bit excessive, isn’t it?” He asks, watching after the security guards dividing themselves throughout the home. “I don’t think anyone likes you that much, sweetums.”

His features are not nearly as tight as Jimin’s, the exhaustion making them as firm as jelly. Really, he’d enjoy a hot bath and then a cup of tea right now over anything. The kitchen looks promising, Jeongguk is already yearning to wrap his hands around a warm mug. It’s magical until a dainty paw steps around the corner.

Gracefully, a cat steps into view, its tail held obnoxiously high and oh. Jeongguk hates that. “It’s just precautionary measures, babe. I don’t think you want pictures of our wedding night all over the internet.” Jimin says, before his eyes are on his kitten. He bends forward stroking the kittens thick coat and scratching under her chin.

“Good Evening Friday, did you miss me?”

As if responding to his question the kitten let out a loud purr, rubbing against Jimin’s leg. She circles around the limb before resting her eyes wide green eyes on Jungkook. Her tail swishes elegantly behind her as she watches the other man. The witty response fails to leave Jeongguk’s lips as his stare is met by the cat’s. Friday. That was such a stupid name and Jeongguk can’t even tell if he’s surprised.

“The cat sleeps with you.” And nowhere near him.

Cats haven’t been Jeongguk’s thing ever since childhood: they’re far too mischievous and manipulative. Dogs, on the other hand, are loyal and just want to the best for you. Jeongguk would much rather shower attention on one of them and see the affection returned than petting a cat and having them walk away. “The cat sleeps wherever she wants, Jeongguk,” Jimin replies, a bit too coldly. As he speaks, he levels his eyes to meet Jeongguk’s.

When the security guards confirm the condominium is clear, Jimin thanks them before dismissing them. He then turned to his new husband, “We need to discuss some technicalities.” “Yeah, the cat sleeps with you. We trade turns with the bed until I buy one for myself.”

Sitting his coat down on the counter, Jeongguk is walking towards one of his boxes. His main priority is to get out of this suit, and he refuses to be distracted by some talking garden gnome. “I don’t care what you do, we both have jobs to worry about. It’s doubtful that we’ll have to interact all that much.”

Pausing, Jeongguk shuffles around in a box before pulling out a pair of sweatpants. “I might have a place to stay anyways, so don’t expect me home every night.” “I repeat, the cat will sleep wherever she wants. There’s no reason to disrupt the life of an innocent creature just because our lives got fucked up.”

Jimin walks towards the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of apple juice. He watches the younger man, sucking his teeth as he listens to him speak.

“I care what you do. I don’t want any scandals. If you’re not coming home, at least text me so I can have an excuse.” Jimin turns to put away the juice in the fridge but stops, “Where exactly are you going to fit a second bed?”

Jimin’s condominium was a bachelor pad, he never had the intention of getting married to anyone. His place had his bedroom, his small study and the living room. There was no room for Jeongguk to fit a bed. The man simply shrugs, working on unbuttoning the top of his shirt. “I’ll find room somewhere, don’t worry about it.”

Cloth falls off his shoulders, collecting at his elbows. Jeongguk is exhausted, fingers fumbling. “There’s not going to be any scandals, I know how to handle myself.”

It’s not like he grew up without having any fun. Jeongguk has learned how to hide himself and pay off journalists: staying undercover will be easy. “Anything else, your majesty?” Jeongguk glances over his shoulder, lips tilted in a smirk. His teeth pull a bit of the soft flesh between them, proposing a challenge as he unbuttons the rest of his top and slides it off. Jimin rolls his eyes.

“You know I have a bathroom for you to change in?” Jimin turns on his heels towards the bedroom. He hopes Jeongguk misses the reddening of his ears at the sight of his half naked husband. He steps into his walk-in closet and picks out his night clothes, a simple pair of boxers and a white t shirt. He bites his tongue upon noticing how his housekeeper had adjusted his closets to fit on one side to allow Jungkook’s to fit on the other side. He dresses quickly, then returns to the living room.

“You can have the bed tonight, you look like you need it.” Jimin doesn’t look at Jeongguk as he begins converting the small couch into a bed. “This isn’t your first time seeing someone naked I hope, I mean otherwise…” Jeongguk trails off, changing into his sweats languidly. His belt jingles in the silence between them, hitting the floor with a thud. Pants follow its path soon after, Jeongguk reaches for his sleepwear.

“What time are getting up in the morning?” Theyre going to have to adjust their schedules for each other, Jeongguk may have to change his alarm. “I’m having someone drive my car over in the morning. I can take you to work.” “I’ve seen both men and women naked Jeongguk, I just have no interest in seeing you naked.” Jimin scoffs, he turns on the tv as he settles into his bed, the couch and smiles as Friday comes to rest with him naturally. However, the cats eyes seem to shift to Jeongguk frequently.

“You’re going to drive me to work? Why would you do that?” Jimin looked at Jeongguk and raises his eyebrows. His eyes light up, even at the insult thrown towards him. Jeongguk stretches his arms far above his head, shameless as he wears no top. For this body, he’s put in a lot of time. Dedication. He likes showing it off when he can, whether it be a morning jog or more intimate exercise.

“I don’t believe you at all, for the record,” Jeongguk says, nonchalant and uncaring. “We just got married. We’ll have cameras following us for the next six months. Just trying to give them something to write about, sweetheart.” “Huh, says the person who doesn’t expect to be home every night,” Jimin huffs turning his attention to the tv. “You don’t need to drive me to work, I have a chauffeur. Just do us both a favour and stay out of trouble.”

He leans back against the couch pillows, closing his eyes. Jimin couldn’t sleep without white noise, whether it be from the tv or the person speaking, he needed something to distract him from his thoughts. “And buy some chapsticks, your lips are really rough.” At that, Jeongguk actually laughs. The sound is breathless and straight from his chest, and Jeongguk hasn’t had that genuine of a laugh in a while. Tip toeing around the furniture, Jeongguk avoids the cat laying on his husband’s lap by shooing her away gently.

“I’m driving you, you’re going to make it obvious if you’re gonna avoid me.” Leaning forward, Jeongguk’s bangs create a curtain for his face. If there’s any nosy cameras outside somewhere, this is would be some great mysterious shot for the magazines. Their noses brush. Jeongguk’s teasing him. “You’re the only one that’s complained.” Jimin places his palm flat against Jeongguk’s chest. He tracing the flawless expansion of skin with his fingertips. He glances up at Jeongguk through his lashes, his fingers travelling up his neck and across his jaw. Jimin licks his lips teasingly, his fingertips now at Jeongguk’s lips before he pinches his cheeks roughly, like you would to a child.

“Don’t play with fire Jeongguk,” Jimin says lowly. He pushes Jeongguk away from him, waiting for Friday to return to his lap. “You can have it your way, I leave at 7AM.” He’s left rubbing at a sore cheek, his expression fading into one that could rival a hurt child. It’s not that he’s sensitive (he is), but it was unexpected. “You sure you don’t want to go to bed? Its yours after all. My stuff is in here anyways.” It would be easier to get ready in the morning, and he trusts Jimin has enough money to pay for a sofa that won’t ruin his poor back. “You won’t fit on the couch,” Jimin defends himself with an exaggerated huff. He wraps the blanket snuggly around him.

“Just let my cat sleep wherever she wants,” Jimin mumbles, his eyes are closed again as he evens his breathing out, the hectic day finally catching up to him. It’s almost endearing how easily the other falls asleep. Scoffing, Jeongguk makes sure the pillow is under his head properly. He walks along the walls until he finds the right light switch, flipping it and dousing the room with shelter for the shadows. Its awkward, strolling across a strangers home to a bedroom that isn’t home — alone, at least.

Jeongguk gives one more glance over his shoulder before he disappears, shutting the door behind him and feeling for the bed. Once he’s found it, the man spends only a short amount of time tossing and turning before he falls asleep with sore eyes.

[kookiejiminbts]

Unique

Parinig: JiKook duh Genre: guess what, a Reaper au and it’s a bit sad (I was listening to sad OSTs from dramas so yeah) Word count: 2088 

As Jimin stood next to the dead girl’s body, waiting for her soul to rise from it, his eyes scanned the surroundings. A crowd was already gathering around the crash scene. He usualy didn’t pay much attention to mortals while working, at least not the living ones. But something made him check today, an alarm ringing in his head that something was not right. His eyes moved past a couple and stopped at a boy dressed all in black, who was looking in his direction. No, not his direction, Jimin realized, he was looking directly at him. Their gazes locked and Jimin could see chills running through the boy's body. It was the first time he met a mortal able to see Reapers. He's heard of them, it was a rare anomaly but it wasn't impossible. Now as he stood and watched the human something told him it wasn't just that, there was something else to the boy dressed in the same color as him, who had no fear in his gaze as he looked into a Reaper's eyes.

He reaped the girl's soul as soon as it was out and left for the next job. As curious as he was about the boy he still had things to do and he hated being late. Reapers were organized, every second counted for them. After finishing his assignments he found himself sneaking into the Records, unable to stop thinking about he human. He wasn't able to see his name, for that he'd have be closer, but he saw his face and that worked as well. He ran the Memory Search and after few seconds he had the boy's personal informations. Jeon Jungkook, 20 years old, a student and........estimated to die in 3 weeks in a car accident. The date was written there, Jimin stared at the numbers for a long while. It wasn't right, he shouldn't be messing with death timers yet he felt himself wanting to save the kid. There was just something.....something whispering that the boy shouldn't die yet, that it wasn't his time. He brushed it off for the time being, deciding to keep an eye on the mortal until he makes the final decision. For the next days he watched Jungkook between his assignments and, as he was no oridnary Reaper, he didn't have that many of them. The boy spend most of his time either at home or working at a dog cafe. That surprised Jimin a bit, he looked more fitted for a tatoo saloon, considering the amount he had on his skin. But the Reaper could see genuine happiness in his aura when he was around not only dogs but generally animals. Once he was at home tho it's colors dimmed and a spark of sadness would always appear. It grew with each day and Jimin couldn't understand why. What was making the mortal so sad that it grew until the happiness was almost impossible to spot? It was when he saw a callendar in his flat with a date marked in it, that he finally understood. It was the day of his death. The mortal somehow knew when will be his last day, that was what made him sad. But why there was never fear in his aura? Was he not afraid of death? It was easy for Jimin to understand humans as he too long time ago was one but Jungkook was unique. Unique enough for the Reaper to care, an emotion he'd lost when he first became immortal. His final day Jungkook went to work as usual and Jimin watched him cuddle with the dogs more than actualy working. After his shift ended he slowly walked towards his home. There was a  car with a drunk guy behind the wheel speeding his way. He'd never avoid being hit. He turned his head in the last seconds and Jimin saw realization in his eyes but still no fear, he didn't even attempt to save himself. Jimin made his decision. Stopping the time with his Reaper abilities he came out of the shadows and with a swift movement of his hand he moved Jungkook out of the car's way. He changed into his noncorporal form and unpaused the time. The car went through him like he was nothing, the driver not even noticing he was about to kill another human. Changing back to be corporal he finally turned around to the mortal for whom he broke the first law of Reapers. The pure shock on Jungkook's face didn't surprise Jimin, what surprised him was that the boy didn't instantly run away screaming. Jungkook opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it. The Reaper just stood there, unsure what to do now that he saved his life. After a while of awkward silence Jungkook finally gathered his thoughts. „Why would a Reaper save my life?” he asked. Jimin met his eyes and tilted his head, thinking about an answer that would make sense. It turned out there wasn't one, he wasn't sure why himself. Reapers didn't lie, they could hide the truth in different ways but they never lied. That might have to change, given what he just did. But now he will speak the truth. „I don't have an answer to that question yet. You're unique, intriguing. I couldn't watch you die” he said, his voice so much different from the mortal's, an echo of who he was and all the souls he reaped. Through all these years of immortality and even before, he's never met anyone like Jungkook. He selfishly wanted to keep him alive, he wanted to know more about him, to try and understand. „We should leave this place before another Reaper comes to check what happened” he advised and with a snap of his fingers moved them to a different location, a quiet park where no one would even think to look for him. Jungkook gasped in surprise and checked if he was still whole. „I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that before warning you but we had no time” Jimin apologized quietly and motioned for the mortal to sit down on a nearby bench. He hesitated then did it with a shrug. The Reaper sat down as well, keeping his distance not to scare the other, if it was even possible to scare him. An awkward silence settled between them again as neither knew what to say. Jungkook was the one who broke it. „Will you get in trouble because of me?” he asked, examining the man. He looked as young as him, maybe even younger, yet Jungkook knew he had to be old and he was sure Reapers just didn't save humans' lives like it was nothing. „Most likely but I made the decision and I will face the consequences” the Reaper answered, his voice sending chills down Jungkook's spine. It was filled with something his mind couldn't grasp, yet it spoke to him like none other voice did and it wasn't the first time he spoke with a soul eater. A memory from when he was five flashed in front of his eyes, a man dressed in black stending next to his mother's blooded body. „Did you come to take mommy?” he asked, knowing that the woman who loved him so dearly will no longer shower him with kisses, no longer hug him before sleep, no longer smile so brightly like she was the sun itself. „Please take care of mommy, don't make her sad” a plead of a little child and a single tear rolling down his cheek. He wiped it quickly, mommy wouldn't want him to cry. He kept staring at the man with glowing eyes. „Don't worry child, she will find her peace” he finally said and in a blink he was gone. Jungkook have never shed a tear since then. He pushed the memory away and focused at the present. „You're not like the other Reapers I've seen” he said, continuing the conversation „Do you have a name?” he was curious if he reveals it as none other soul eater have done it. „I guess I'm not” Jimin agreed with a nod, now even more intrigued by the boy who thought he was enough a person to have a name. „I'm Jimin” he introduced himself, amused by the instant shock on Jungkook's face. „Are you more surprised that I have it or that I've given it to you?” he asked, studying his expression. „The latter because no way you'd be named something like 123 or a345” the boy replied only to be surprised again by the Reaper's smile. Soul eaters did not smile, like never. „Am I imagining or did you just smile?” he couldn't belive it, he never thought they were even capable of emotions. „It appears I did. It has been so long I forgot I could do it.” Jimin answered, trying to recover his memories of the last time he was smiling. Too long, too many years passed. The immortal life consumed his joy, his happiness, every feeling that made him alive, everything that made him Jimin. He forgot who he was before. No more. He won't let the Reapers make him into what he isn't even though he's not a human anymore. He was so caught up in his thought he completly forgot about Jungkook sitting next to him and the latter didn't interrupt to remind about himself. „My apologies, you're probably tired. I will travel you home, it's far from here and you meeting another Reaper now would not be safe” the man said. Jungkook didn't even get a chance to ask how and why he knew where he lives and the next moment he was standing in front of his apartment. „I will leave you now, there is probably a lot for you to think about” Jimin said and raised his hand when he saw the boy opening his mouth to say something „I will keep a watch on you. Would another Reaper come to check just don't pay him any attention. I know you have questions, many I'm sure and I will answer them another time. Now it's not safe, someone will come and I can't be near when he does. In a few days when you're ready just say my name, I will come. Until then stay safe” he explained and was gone the next second. Jungkook stood stunned in front of his apartment for good 5 minutes. When he finally entered it he went straight to his bedroom and threw himself on the bed. He came to terms with today being his last day, he had half his life to get ready for it. He wasn't scared to die, didn't question it being so early. His mother thaught him death was something inevitable, it will come for everyone, and who were they to argue with it. So when he saw how he'll die and the exact date he just accepted it. Yet here he was, alive. Saved by someone who was supposed to take his soul away. A Reaper that smiled and had a name, whose voice carried something that made him shiver, who found him intriguing enough to let his mortal ass live just a bit longer. His head hurt even thinking about it, it was so unexpected and abnormal. He decided to sleep it through, maybe he was actually dead and this was just an afterlife or maybe it was just a dream and he will soon wake up. Maybe his whole life was a dream and he's still five years old, his mother alive and he will run into her loving arms as soon as he runs downstairs to the kitchen. He knew he was lying to himself and that it was just his wishful thinking but he let the few memories of his mother fill his mind and smiling drifted off into sleep. Jimin watched him from the shadows this entire time. He expected the boy to wander through his apratment, to have a break down, to cry, something of this sort but he just went to sleep. He'll have to learn not to expect anything from Jungkook, the mortal was unpredictable. Does this mean he wanted to have more contact with him? That's exactly what it means, Jimin answered himself with a smile. Soon he felt the incoming presence of another Reaper. He took a last glance at Jungkook's sleeping face and vanished. He'll have loads of time to know all his faces.

This is a compensation for the lack of updates on my other fics and the lack of my own content here, I apologize. That will change once my exams are over. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you liked this one ^^ I might make it into a 2 shot, if u want to know more that is, so please tell me your opinions!  More jikook from me here  And there is also link to my AFF when u visit my blog, all the chaptered ones with graphics are there ^^