#i hope they learn their lesson when six cars had to shift to the left lane to pass them

[miraclesnail]

the intense rage of being behind someone going 45 mph on a 65 mph and the road is clear and empty ahead of them on a bright sunny day

[pradaksj]

7 Rings | 01

♛ pairing: taehyung/reader

♛ genre: richboy!taehyung | blackmailer!reader | infiltration au | slow burn | eventual smut | angst | fluff 

♛ rating: mature

♛ word count: 12,000+

♛ warnings for this chapter : explicit language, terminal illness, this chapter basically just sets the foundation of this story up so sorry if it’s a little boring 

♛ summary:  In need of money for your mom’s medical bills, you and your best friend come up with a plan to infiltrate one of Seoul’s richest families, the Kim family. The plan was simple, blackmail, get your money, and disappear, but of course things don’t always go as planned. Especially not with someone like Kim Taehyung.

━ ❝ Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em. ❞

♛ chapter index/masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter 

Chapters⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

“Why Y/N?” his voice cracks, the look of betrayal evidently on his face. 

"I never—" you sobbed. Your throat felt swollen and you stuttered, pitifully trying to speak the words in your head. "I never meant for it to go this far," you said at last. 

How did you end up here? Where did everything go wrong? When had the rabbit hole simply become too deep? The sounds of several voices echoed in your head. 

You could hear him calling your name, begging  no demanding an answer, but all you could do was stare off into space, thinking of everything that led up this exact moment. 

If only you could turn back time. 

3 Months Ago.

Friday Morning.

“In today’s news, the Kim family’s multibillion dollar deal has been officially confirmed. Their partnership with Hyundai is estimated to bring in at least seven billion in revenue to Korea’s economy over the next 5 years. Both parties have agreed to terms that will lift…”

Oh the irony.

Sighing, you turned off the radio of your run-down 2006 grey Hyundai, which every morning you had to cross your fingers and hope that the engine wouldn't burn out on you. The rumbling sounds of the engine starting up never failing to catch the attention of pedestrians walking by. 

After several frustrating minutes of struggling to parallel park, you sat in your car and allowed yourself to sulk for a moment. Another day, another dollar to make. Even if it meant having to deal with rude and entitled customers all day, your school loans plus your bills just weren’t going to pay themselves off anytime soon. 

“One day at a time Y/N, just one day at a time,” you reassured yourself, placing on your mandatory logoed hat, and mentally preparing yourself for another day. If only you were rich.

Friday Night.

Despite being tired from work, visiting your mom was something you always felt like you needed to do every so often, plus her homemade meals were quite often a bonus considering how lazy you’d often get to cook food for yourself. In fact, the pizza shop near your apartment not only having your order, but voice completely memorized for whenever you called. The young employee quickly interrupting your greeting with a, “Pepperoni pizza, half sausage, half Hawaiian, and a pink lemonade?” surprisingly no longer offended you as much as it would back in the beginning. 

Your mom certainly didn’t mind the company as it inevitably got quite lonely living by herself, but she knew she couldn’t smother you forever as much as she would love to. College was a necessity for you in her eyes, a ticket to a better life that wouldn’t require you to scrub the floors of the rich as she did. 

And maybe it was because you were more mature nowadays, but conversations with her had now also seemed to be much more meaningful. Well that and the two of you didn’t butt heads as much as you used to compared to when you were nothing but a temperamental teenager whose biggest life crisis was whether your crush glanced at you in the hallway or not. 

Of course the boundary and respect of a mother-daughter relationship was always there, some of your jokes sometimes garnering a “I’m not your friend, I’m your mother” speech from her, but nonetheless your relationship with her in a way was very much like a friendship. It seemed as if with every visit you learned new things about her, the different stories she shared with you from her youth always having an underlying lesson that you could apply to your own life.

“I really needed this,” you said while chewing on a mouthful of bulgogi. Small stains of sauce at the corners of your mouth, as your mom’s cooking never failed to make you feel like a little kid. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her now twenty one year old daughter who in her heart was always going to be just a little girl.

She got up from the small wooden dining chair, picking up any leftover dinnerware as she prepared to start washing dishes, all while at the same time listening to you as you babbled on about work.

“I mean really, how hard is it to say thank you,” you rolled your eyes, dramatically sticking your chopstick into your bowl, as you were recalling one of today’s customers who kept snapping their fingers at you as if you were their very own personal servant. 

“Well it’s a good thing it’s summer, you don’t have to worry about college so mu—” The sound of glass shattering on the floor abruptly caught your attention. You looked up at your mom who was now dead silent, her face which was now extremely pale, and her breathing which had suddenly became erratic. What you didn't know was that your mom had suddenly felt as if the world spinning, the feeling of disorientation becoming too overwhelming.

“Mom? Are you okay?” you quickly got up, grabbing your mom by the forearm in a means of trying to redirect her from the kitchen to the couch at an attempt to get her to relax. You unlocked your phone, fingers slightly trembling as you called the ambulance. 

“Just breathe okay. You’re gonna be okay,” you kept trying to reassure your mom as you waited for them to pick up which at the moment felt like an eternity. Your leg was bouncing up and down in anticipation as you kept glancing at your mom who was trying to keep her breathing in control and her eyes open. “Do not close your eyes on me, you hear me?” your voice began to feel shaky, eyelids brimming with tears, the pulsating feeling of panic flowing through your veins.

“Hello, what’s your emergency?”

You hated hospitals. Who didn’t? The smell, the yellow-toned ugly lighting, and the feeling of anxiousness the whole place gave people. For you though, the hospital was a reminder of tragedy, a reminder that whatever comes in here never walks out the same whether you’re a patient or not. Fifteen years ago, it made your mom a widow left having to pay remaining hospital bills all while having to raise her six year old daughter.

So here you were now, fifteen years later sitting at her bedside waiting for her to wake up, stuck in the same position she once was. You stared up at the ceiling counting each time the overhead lights flickered as you tried not to get so lost into your thoughts. Everything had happened in what felt like was the blink of an eye, guilt was beginning to seep in. Why hadn’t noticed anything earlier? Maybe in some miraculous way you could’ve prevented this, you thought to yourself. 

You turned on the small TV that the hospital provided in every room, flipping through several channels hoping you'd find something that would be able to distract you.

“Shut up and kis—” K-drama. Next.

“Watch ou—” Action movie. Next.

“Kim Taehyung gets physical with paparazzi, the heir to Kim Enterprises spotted —” but before you could place your full attention to the entertainment newscast you turned your attention to your mother who was now beginning to shift in her sleep, her eyes now slowly opening, clearly in a daze as to where she was and how she got there.

“Hey ma,” you softly whispered, giving her a warm smile as you held her hand tighter, beginning to rub small circles on her palm.

“W-what happened Y/N?” 

“You fain-”

“Ah you’re finally up,” you turned towards the door, seeing who you assumed was the doctor in charge now walking in. 

For a doctor she appeared quite young, her petite figure and wrinkle free skin a defining factor in her appearance. You formally greeted her, a wave of anxiousness now overcoming you. “Dr. Whitney Han'' is what her name tag read, but it was what was in small font beneath her name that made your heart feel as if it feel down to the pit of your stomach. “Oncologist,” meaning doctors who specialize in the study and treatment for cancer.

Faintly clearing her throat, “Hello, I’m Dr. Han,” she introduced herself, reaching her hand out for you to shake. She smiled at your mom who was still in a slightly groggy state, but aware nonetheless. “So Ms. Y/L/N, you seemed to have suffered from what we call a syncope, meaning an episode of passing out, it’s usually caused by insufficient blood flow to the brain, a result of hypotension,” you nodded following along with what she was saying,

“When episodes such as these occur, it tends to mean that there’s an underlying cause and so we decided to run some tests on your mother to cross out any possibilities, and well there’s never an easy way to tell anybody this...” her gaze lowered for just a slight moment until she quickly regained her composure, but it was just enough for you to just know. She continued with what you assumed she’s told hundred’s if not thousand’s of patients in her career. For her it’d be just another day of work, but for you it felt as if the world stopped.

Whatever she had said after couldn’t be heard because the only thing you could hear was the sound of your blood pounding in your ears, and an intense beating against your chest. You could see her mouth moving, but nothing seemed to be coming out, everything suddenly becoming a ringing noise to your ears. 

Fight or flight is what they call it. When a stressful situation triggers you to either run or stay, and at this moment you just wanted to run, but you knew you couldn’t. You knew that at this exact moment, everything was going to change because whether you liked it or not, the carousel never stops turning. 

You slowly glanced at your mom who seemed to be in the same paralyzed state as you, her face stoic of any possible emotion. 

“With treatment chances of survival are of course immensely improved, the treatments are harsh, but taking your mom’s age and clean medical history I think she can definitely handle it,” Dr. Han tried to give you a small smile, but even she knew situations like these were always tough. No matter how many years of experience she had, the countless tragedies and rare miracles she’d witnessed in her career, every case was different. Her job as a doctor was to make people like you and your mother feel more comfortable with their situation, but never make any promises. 

“Now treatments are done in intervals, and will probably have to be done starting from now until about three to six months which is when we usually see improvement, meaning you will have to permanently stay here for that time. From what I’ve seen with past patients is that treatment can be very costly  without insurance, and well I know a lot of physicians don’t like to talk about expenses with patients, but—”

“My mom doesn’t have health insurance. I know,” you harshly broke the deafening silence, interrupting her before she could continue, not wanting to hear anymore of her pity. You had no reason to give her attitude, no reason to direct your anger towards her, it wasn’t like she caused any of this to happen, but you just couldn’t help it. The atmosphere in the air was stiff, any next word out of her mouth and you’d probably go ballistic. “C-can we just have a moment alone? So we could just um process everything,” you stammered, lacking to make any eye contact with her. 

“I’ll be right outside in the hallway, let me know if you have any questions,” she gave you and your mom one last tiny sad smile before making her way out.

Once the door closed, you thought that you’d be able to breathe properly again, but the same heavy feeling on your chest remained. It wasn’t until you felt a grab at your hand that you were brought back to reality.

“Hey we are going to be just fine Y/N,” your mom whispered to you as it was now she who was rubbing your hand in an effort to comfort you. A weak smile appearing on your face, of course your mom would be comforting you despite it being her who's sick. “Come on lay down with me,” she then began to scoot to the side in her already tiny hospital bed, trying to make space for you.

And for a small everlasting moment you felt like a little girl again as you hugged your mom, tears silently falling from the corner of your eyes, the soft sound of her humming comforting you. You let your head relax onto her shoulder, your breathing somehow finally under control. The question of “What are we going to do?” slowly disappearing from your mind, letting yourself drift off to sleep in the arms of your mom.

Sunday Morning.

In the following days after, you had helped your mom move her necessities into the hospital room that she’d be staying in until her treatment was over and she could be discharged. You had contacted your landlord informing him that you’d be cancelling your lease as you now had plans to move back home. The only reason you had your own small apartment in the first place was because your mom thought it’d be better to live near campus and not waste so much money on gas going from campus to your job and then back to your moms place. Despite her protests on the cancellation of your lease, you had done it anyway.

“Ma someone has to live there, or else it’d just be useless to continue paying rent. We can’t just leave it empty for the whole year, someone could break in or even try to live there for the while that you’re not there. I mean imagine walking in on some strang—”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want you living there, and move the decoration a little more to your right,” she says while making a motion with her hand as a way to guide you. For the past hour you had been putting up flimsy removable decorations all across the beige hospital walls at an attempt to make her room look less depressing than it already was. 

“I already told you, I’ll be just fine. I already asked Yuna to help me get my stuff, and you’re acting like everyone in the neighborhood doesn’t know who I am, and it’s a lot faster to get here from home. I just need to start looking for a second job in the meant—”

“Ah about that,” your moms sudden interruption causing you to stop what you were doing , now tilting your head in confusion, “I called Mr. Choi and told him about me no longer being able to work for the meantime that I'm here and well that’s when he mentioned something about going on vacation, and needing a temporary assistant… and that he needed someone to run some business like errands for him and well I may have mentioned you and that you’re majoring in business and how you’d love to work for him…” she tried zooming through the last part but you had heard it all.

“Wait what!”

Mr. Choi was your mom’s boss, having been his housekeeper for as long as you could remember. Endless long nights of making sure whatever multimillion dollar penthouse he or his other snobby friends owned looked squeaky clean, just to be paid like any other minimum-wage worker minus the tip.

You could still vividly remember the nights when you were younger being babysat by your neighbor, anxiously waiting for your mom's knock on the door signifying that she was back home, and just how exhausted she’d look as she took off her housekeeping shoes, too tired to even look at the pile of sealed letters on the sturdy coffee table. A constant reminder that she was going to be working for that man for a very long time. 

For a long time you had wondered how she was able to do it all. Were there nights where she felt like just giving up and simply letting everything she’d work so hard for to collapse? 

Your mind flashing back to the night before you moved out for college. It was about 3 in the morning and anxiety had been keeping you up the whole night, the fear of moving somewhere you were unfamiliar with creeping into your mind. The sound of muffled tears coming from the living room snapping you back into reality. Slowly you had gotten up from bed, opening your door wide enough to leave a crack that you could visibly see through, desperately trying to avoid having the door loudly creak. 

And so there she was with a wax stick candle in her hand, quietly whispering to herself a small recital, the sound of several wailed “thank you’s” coming out of her mouth, grateful that she had made it this far. The old framed picture of your dad on the coffee table making it hard for you to fight back your own tears. 

Nights where she was sure your landlord would knock at any moment to kick you guys out because the rent was going to be late, nights where she’d silently cry herself to sleep because it killed her to say no to something you desperately wanted from the store, and nights where she merely missed the love of her life. Doubting herself as to whether she was doing a good job in raising you, simply wishing she could have someone give her some reassurance. And having to hide those feelings because she didn’t want her daughter to find out that the person she had once given a “Happy Mother’s Day to the Strongest Mommy in the World” card with a colorful doodle of herself in a cape was in fact not strong at all, but acted like she was because she simply loved her daughter too much. 

And so that night instead of going back to sleep, you slowly made your way into the living room, silently enveloping her in a hug, no words having to be spoken. Promising yourself that you were going to work hard in college, and get each other out of the small cramped apartment to which you guys called home. Life of course had different plans, which brings you back to one of the causes of your stress and worries: Mr. Choi. 

Oh how you despised that man. One would think a rich man like him would’ve offered by now to pay for all of your mom’s expenses considering the years of servitude, but no. He only fed into the stereotype you already had of the rich, the only people they cared for were themselves.

“So you’re basically telling me I have to quit my job by tonight, and do something I have absolutely no experience with?”

“Yes! You need to start getting all the experience you can get in the world of business, and him being on vacation is perfect. Less stress, and I assume it’ll be better pay than that restaurant you’re working in.” Oh how you hated how naive your mom could be sometimes, it always led to Choi taking advantage of her and her kindness.

“Mr. Choi lives—”

“In the city which is not at all far from here, the only reason you work at that lousy restaurant is because it’s near campus, yes or yes?”

“And when school starts?”

“Mr. Choi should be back by then and he can find someone new to replace you,” you dramatically groaned, the fact that she had reasonable answers to your questions bugged you. 

“But-”

“But nothing! You’re a hard worker Y/N, who knows you may even meet someone who could change your life around in that area. You’re young, about to be a college graduate, you need to start printing out resumes and Mr. Choi is a big name in the indust—”

“I get it, I get it,” you said chuckling at your mom’s enthusiasm, “and who's going to keep you company then?”

“Ah well the nurse was telling me last night about the events they throw here every week for people like me who are staying here for a while and trust me I’ll be just fine,” she winked at you which raised a laugh out of you. Who knew your mom could be so… social. “Just try and visit hmm... at least once a week.”

“Once?”

“I’m telling you Y/N, we will be just fine. Stop acting like I’m dying anytime soon.” she said, “now what do you say? It’s just until the end of summer.” You began to consider your options, money was definitely the weighing factor here.

Sighing once you had made your decision, “When do I start?”, a giant grin now appearing on her face. 

Sunday Night

“Well that’s the last of it,” you sighed in relief as you finally were able to close the trunk of your car after several minutes of struggling to compress your things in order for everything to fit in your small car and not make any double trips back. 

“Finally! You know for someone who claims they need to save money, you sure do like spending it on such small useless things,” your best friend, Yuna, complained.

“Oh because you were so much help,” you huffed, she had no right to complain considering all she did was loudly munch on her chips, watching the pitiful sight of you nearly fighting your trunk after several failed attempts of it not closing. She raised her hand in defense. 

You and Yuna had met in the 8th grade after the two of you were assigned as partners for your geometry class, casual conversation about latest idol debuts and fashion trends had blossomed a beautiful friendship. For a while you thought that college was going to cause the two of you to grow apart, but in fact you two became even closer. It had become a friendship where you didn’t need to see each other everyday, nor talk about absolutely everything all in one moment. Everything was always at its own pace between you two, the boundaries having been silently set.

You had told Yuna of your situation and rather than try to get you to cry about your feelings and awkwardly comfort you, she instead agreed to help you move out, letting her actions speaking louder than words. Of course Yuna’s definition of help differed from yours. but it was the thought that counted. She knew that when you were ready you’d talk to her about everything. 

“Well apartment D2 you’ve been... “ you paused, recalling the amount of times you’ve nearly burned something, now scratching your neck,  “...decent to me, but it’s time for a new chapter,” you whispered to yourself, anxious for the weeks to come. 

The drive home like almost all of them had the two of you singing to both current and childhood songs without a care in the world even though you two weren’t exactly what people would consider “good” singers. Occasional voice cracks seeping through the bass of the speakers, garnering a laugh from the two of you. 

By the time you got home and finished unpacking, you were not only exhausted but extremely hungry.

“I’m gonna go get us take out,” Yuna announced, getting up from the couch and grabbing your car keys from the rack, almost as if she read your mind. 

And so while she went to get that, you laid on your small childhood bed, staring at the ceiling. You laughed at the multiple glow in the dark stickers you had crookedly placed onto it several years ago, and cringe at the posters of second generation idols you had sloppily posted up on your walls when you were fifteen, now unaware that you were subconsciously grinning. 

It surprised you that your mom for the most part hadn’t moved anything around from your room, for the most part it looked almost exactly as how you left it years ago. The same old baby blue duvet covered your metal twin-sized bed frame, decorated with grey fluffy throw pillows which at the time you thought made you a professional interior designer. Your fingers grazed over the framed pictures you had on your small desk (minus the ones you took to college) of past memories including a photo of your dad piggy back carrying a five year old you who had the biggest smile on her face. A small reminder of what life once was. 

You could feel your eyes getting watery as you continued to stare at the photo, and so you quickly snapped yourself out of it, deciding that you already had enough emotional turmoil on your plate. Instead you plopped back onto bed, unlocked your phone and began to scroll through Twitter occasionally laughing at some memes.

A certain retweet had caught your eye causing you to let out a scoff, “Kim Taehyung NASTY fight with girlfriend Sunhi. Click here for more.” The Kim family were almost insufferable, their names practically plastered everywhere across Korea. Especially Mr. Kim’s son Taehyung who somehow always managed to get his name across the headlines whether it be on TV, magazines, or social media.

“Famous for being a brat,” you muttered to yourself, but ironically before you could click on the link you had heard the door open and close, resulting in you locking your phone and immediately getting up from bed, your stomach desperately ready to stop growling. 

“Im baaaack!” Yuna dramatically squealed, placing the foam takeout containers on your small kitchen table. The scent of the warm food making your mouth water. “I know it’s chilly right now, but the stars are out tonight, so I say we go eat at the top,” she then gave you the puppy dog eyes.

“You don’t need to make such… disturbing...faces for me to agree, you do know that right?” you teased, trying to hide your smirk. 

“Fuck you,” she responded to you while playfully hitting your shoulder.

Despite it being summer, when you had walked outside you immediately felt the crispy cold weather, but it was something you and Yuna had grown accustomed to. The countless number of late nights climbing up your metal ladder to get to the rooftop and watching the small tiny stars had made you two somewhat immune to the nightly cold. Your mom sometimes would even climb up herself to bring hot cocoa, rightfully worried that the two of you would freeze yourselves to death. 

You see your apartment, like the rest of your complex, wasn’t in the greatest condition. The infrastructure of it mostly relying on a mix of cement and brick, rust engulfing most things along with metal bars on each complex’s windows in order to prevent break ins. Crime was not something uncommon in your area, but something that you were used to hearing about as you got older. 

What made the whole situation more ironic was that the rich were separated by a simple six way motorway, acting almost as a bridge between two completely different worlds with their skyscrapers and condos looking down upon you guys. It was only at night when the stars were out and you looked up at the navy blue sky that you felt like for a small moment none of it mattered. The warm milky glow of the moon never failing to soothe you, reminding you that even in the dark there was light. Reminding you that even now which felt as if was one of the darkest hours in your life, there was going to be light. At least that’s what you hoped. 

“This view just never gets old,” you whispered, amazed at the moonlight’s reflection, the speckle of stars only adding to its beauty. Your eyes had once again become watery, a sudden state of reflection washing over you, but you quickly composed yourself before Yuna could notice. 

“What time do you even go in tomorrow?” Yuna asked, her eyes still primarily focused on the view above. 

“Well their flight is at 1PM so my mom told me I should get there by at least 11AM so he can explain everything to me, show me around, and all that other stuff.”

“I don’t see why you have an attitude about it, you’re acting like it’s the worst job in the world!” she scolded you. 

“I know I know, I’ve heard it all already,” you rolled your eyes recalling your mom's lecture and that she expected your attitude to be fixed come Monday morning.

“Well you gotta do what you gotta do,” Yuna mumbled while shrugging her shoulders and continuing to eat her food. 

“You can say that again.... ” you acknowledged her remark, secretly scared for tomorrow, silently hoping that all went well, “and I thought I was a slob,” you snorted, watching how sloppily Yuna was slurping her noodles. She raised her hand, smacking you on the shoulder. 

“Hey, watch—” 

Monday Morning.

“Where you’re going, you asshole!” you shouted over your window, your irritation fixated at the man who cut you off without signaling. God how you hated driving in the city. All the one way signs, the assholes who called themselves drivers, and the narrow streets which were hard to maneuver in. It all caused unnecessary stress, but here you were nonetheless. 

“Turn right in 1.2 miles,” you let out a snide scoff as you entered the parking lot, there was nothing but car of the year models ranging from Mercedes Benz’s, BMW’s, Range Rover’s, and more. All making your car look worse than it already did. 

Making your way into the lobby, you were in complete utter awe of the place. From the giant diamond chandelier hanging from above to the sparkly interior design which screamed Hollywood glam. The ivory colored double staircase reminded you of Titanic, the color scheme of the whole place was overwhelmingly beautiful. You could only imagine what Mr. Choi’s condo could look like as you made your way to the front desk. 

Ding. 

To your surprise a boy, a very handsome one to say the least, appeared from what you assumed was his office. He looked no older than you, his hair dyed a crimson-red color giving him a youthful appearance accompanied with a face that had both sharp and soft features. Before you could ponder on why such a good looking person was working and not living at a place like this, your thoughts were interrupted. 

“Hello, welcome to The Oaks condos, how can I help you?” he asked, sounding eerily similar to a robot. It reminded you of yourself at your old job, something you certainly would not miss.

“Um I’m Mr. Choi’s new assistant,” you looked for his name tag which coincidentally he didn’t have on, but you could immediately see his shoulders relax once he had heard the words “new assistant”. 

“Ah yes! You’re Ms. Y/L/N’s daughter right? Y/N right?” you nodded in agreement, a smile now appearing on his face, causing the corner of your lips to turn upward. Wow was this guy handsome, you only hoped that the heat you felt on your cheeks wasn’t visible to the eye. 

“Your mom called me to give me a heads up. I’m Hoseok, I’m what you can consider the receptionist around here,” he said, reaching his hand out for you to shake. 

Hoseok. The name sounded so familiar, you could’ve sworn you'd heard your mom mention the name a couple times. 

A light bulb then went off in your head, as you remembered the countless number of times she had tried setting you up on a date with him, but wow did she fail to mention that Hoseok had the literal face of a GQ model. 

An awkward cough brought you back to reality as you had realized that Hoseok’s hand had been stuck out for quite some time, you were now certain that your face must’ve resembled a ripe tomato. You quickly returned the handshake, internally scolding yourself for making yourself look like an idiot. Here you were, a grown woman, acting like a teenager again. 

“So um, you seem um ... pretty young to be working here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he teased, “I replaced my aunt after she retired and the owner of this place trusted her to teach me well, and well I guess I’ve been doing a pretty good job if I’m still employed,” he explained, playfully winking at you, confirming that he knew the effect he had on people. You stood there in silence, deciding that it was just best to say nothing, look pretty, and nod. Thus causing him throw his head back and laugh, making small claps with his hands. With the way you were acting, you couldn’t blame him. He must’ve thought you were some kind of walking circus act. 

“You’ll get used to it, you know...” you now had a look a look of confusion on your face which only made him laugh harder, but before you could ask him any questions, he changed the topic. 

“Well I assume your mom gave you Mr. Choi’s key pass, correct?” you shyly nodded no in response. “Ah I see, let’s go ahead and get that set up for you then,” you watched him as he began to type some things onto the computer in front of him. Compared to how fast his fingers were moving across the keyboard, he made you like a complete newb on the keyboard. The boy was clearly now in his own zone. 

“First name, Y/N?” 

“Yes.” 

“Last name, Y/L/N?” 

“Yes.” 

“You see where that X mark is on your left?” he pointed at the microscopic mark on the floor to which you followed, “Okay now look at where that pretty gold flower is on the wall, and say cheese!” Before you could even properly prepare yourself you heard the sound of the shutter go off, immediately causing Hoseok to begin cracking up. 

He turned the desktop computer to face towards you, showing the horrendous picture the camera took of you. One eye had come out mid-blink, your mouth slightly agape from fixing your hair in the moment. “Hey that’s not—!” Before you could start complaining, Hoseok had quickly interrupted. 

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! It’s only for the program’s database which only Rachel and I see? Ain’t that right Rachel?” Rachel? Who the hell was that? 

Glancing around to see who this Rachel person was, you were surprised to see a very old woman seated behind the front desk seemingly caring less about what he had said, a permanent scowl on her face along with a small groan coming out of her mouth as a response. “That’s my girl,” Hoseok jested, “Now you,” he dramatically pointed at you, “come back over here.” 

You muttered a quiet “Whatever,” peeved by his little antics. Maybe it was because Rachel was old but you could slowly see why she had that look on her face.  

“Place your index finger on the small machine when it lights up,” he pointed to the small biometric scanning machine, similar to the ones used at the DMV. Following the simple instructions you allowed the machine to scan your finger, assuming it was going to be used for something important around here. 

All you could do was observe him as he finished typing who knows what. You observed how his eyebrows quirked as he continued to type, a satisfied smile gracing his lips once he was done. 

Too caught up in his appearance, the sudden tug at your hand had caught you by surprise, yanking you from where you were standing. “I’ll be back Rachel! I’m going to show little Ms. Y/N here around,” Rachel as before. only grunted in response. 

“So here of course we have the lobby, this is where all the..” he glanced around making sure no one was around before whispering, “snobby folks come in and out of every day. Them and their visitors of course, so hopefully you don’t have to interact with any of them.”

“I don’t think all of this will be neces—” before you could continue he pulled your hand again now guiding you towards another area. You glanced at the time on your phone, hoping this so called tour wasn’t going to take too long. 

“Right here is the entrance to the patio and pool area, which is what you’ll use your fingerprint for as well as entering Mr. Choi’s condo and any other amenities we have around here,” he reached into his pocket pulling out a laminated card, “but if for any reason our system’s down then this right here should do the trick for amenities only, you’ll have to come up to the front desk if the finger pad in the elevator isn’t working. For precautionary reasons of course,” he explained, most of it pretty self explanatory, except the elevator part but you assumed he’d get to that soon.  

“So the entrance to every apartment is through the elevator which is right there on your left,” You followed him as he began to walk towards it, placing his finger on the elevator’s finger scanning pad, “The stairs are really only here for decoration considering no one uses them, I mean unless of course you want to climb up 7 flights of stairs everyday,” You quickly nodded your head no, “Only resident’s and employee fingerprints allow the elevator to open but,” the two of you stepped into the elevator, “the fingerpad inside the elevator only allows certain people to access certain floors. Since Mr. Choi’s going to be out on vacation with his vacation, you are currently the only person with access to his floor,” you raised your finger, slightly confused. 

“Don’t you technically—” 

“I do, but let’s say I were to enter a resident’s condo without their explicit permission, they’d immediately be notified through their phone as I’m also under strict contract.” Your mouth made an “O” shape, impressed by how everything was ran around here. Another question then popped up in your mind as he clicked the elevator’s 7th button. 

“Well what if there’s more than one person in the elevator? What then?” 

“Ah good question! Since you don’t know any of the residents here yet, I suggest you always try to go into the elevator by yourself, and if the situation arises where you feel uncomfortable or paranoid about who's in the elevator with you then just go back down to the lobby of course and wait it out, but we’ve never had any cases of break ins or anything like that. Especially not in an area like this. Things around here are ran very smoothly,” he shrugged, “I mean around here the burglars don’t wear black ski mask and carry scary weapons. In fact the real criminals live on these same floors,” he deadpanned, slightly catching you by surprise. 

1.

“I know what you’re probably thinking, who the hell makes an elevator an entrance to their home? I thought the same thing when I first started, but for some reason they see it as some kind of luxury feature around here...”

2. 

“Mm it’s expected if I’m being honest,” you chuckled, slowly finding the confidence to make small talk with Hoseok without getting so flustered. A pregnant silence had made it’s way into the elevator. 

3.

“I’m sorry about your mom by the way...” though he had said it out the blue, you could feel the sincerity behind his words. All you could do was give him a small smile of acknowledgment, feeling as if it was too early to feel someone’s pity. “She talks about you a lot...” he said, causing you to smile. 

4. 

“My Y/N is going to one of the top schools in all of Korea! My Y/N is going to become a successful businesswoman! My Y/N is so pretty Hobi, a boy like you should take her out some time!” he mimicked your mom’s voice, now causing you to genuinely laugh. 

5. 

“That definitely sounds like her,” you giggled, your cheeks now becoming a tinging shade of pink at the mention of her trying to playing matchmaker. 

“You should’ve seen her face when I told her I was gay,” your eyes immediately felt as if they had bulged out of your eye sockets, your face now completely red at his previous words. He on the other hand was now laughing as hard as ever, his hand clutching onto his stomach from laughing so hard. 

6. 

“I told you you’d get used to me,” he said in-between laughs, tears now welting out of his eyes from his laughing fit. Things definitely started to make sense, especially now that you were inconveniently remembering how your mom had completely stopped mentioning Hoseok in any romantic way to you. You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment because here you were already fantasizing about the dude. 

“You're also probably wondering why I’m working at a place like this, that’s what most people ask me when they visit round here, but...”

7. 

“I’ll have to answer your questions some other time Ms. Y/N because well here we are! I’ll have your parking pass ready by the time leave but for now just place your finger on the scanner and off you go,” you followed his instructions, opening the doors of the elevator, stepping out, and waving a small goodbye watching him return the wave as the doors slowly closed. In all honesty you were genuinely happy at the fact that you had made a friend around here even though you were still slightly embarrassed about the moment that had played out only minutes ago. 

But before you could dwell on it any longer, you heard a voice call out your name, “Ah Y/N, good you’re here right on time!” You formally greeted who you presumed was Mrs. Choi, slightly surprised at the fact that she even knew your name. 

“You don’t have to be so formal. Muah. Muah,” she pulled you in for a hug and giving you a kiss on each cheek like the French do. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, tell her I send my condolences.” You returned her fake smile, not expecting yourself to despise her this early on. Oh were you glad she wasn’t going to be around.

Mrs. Choi in a way reminded you of Regina George’s mom despite not having any kids. Needles and plastic were definitely her best friends, and her attempt to try and act younger than her actual age was quite cringe to watch. 

Soon after greeting each other, two pomeranians began to circle around you barking. You bent down trying to pet them, but you guess they picked up the snob’s attitude because all they did was continue barking and one even tried to bite you. 

“If it isn’t Y/N, I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!” you snapped your attention to the man himself, Mr. Choi, who was coming down his stairs with a thick black luggage case in his hand. The last time you saw him was around 9 years ago when he had lived on the other side of the city. Your mom had to take you to work with her that day because your neighbor was unavailable to watch after you and you were still too young to be home alone.

Mr. Choi had definitely changed in appearance, his once full head of black hair was now clearly balding, he had gained some weight, and overall looked like a man who had long been worn out. You couldn’t help but think that this vacation was probably needed, especially with a wife like his.  

“I’ll wait for you in the car my love. It was nice seeing you Y/N, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks!” she squealed, waving goodbye as she stepped into the elevator, the dogs following right behind her.

You could hear Mr. Choi sigh, probably already mentally preparing himself for the next 10 weeks. So this is what a pretentious marriage looks like, you thought to yourself. You theorized that Mr. Choi must’ve only married her for her looks and she for his money, and well no wonder there were no kids in the picture. It’d be the ultimate death of both of them. You actually felt pity for the man, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a choice in marrying her.

You brought your attention back to Mr. Choi who must have been rambling on for some time now, “My most recent assistant just quit on me for no reason,” a genuine puzzled look on his face, “something about me being too overwhelming for her, as if I'm supposed to know what that means,” he scoffed. “So when your mom mentioned you well I knew I could trust her!”

Your mom truly never failed at mentioning you to whoever and whenever she possibly could, it was both a blessing and a curse. 

“So… what exactly am I going to be in charge of?” You blurted out, the question had been lingering in your mind since the night prior.

“Good question, I’d show you around, but time is on the essence. I basically just need you to organize my office, file paperwork, organize Amelia’s closet, go run errands for me, pick up documents, but most importantly I’m going to need you to attend certain events in place for me, but of course just introduce yourself as my assistant, apologize as to why I couldn’t be there, and most importantly keep your eyes and ears open. In my world we like to keep… tabs… on one another,” your eyebrow quirked in curiosity, “and since I won’t have any signal I expect to have a report ready for me when I come back so I’m caught up with everything of course,” he grabbed something from the coffee table, “I made a planner for you with everything that needs to be done on a day to day basis,” he then proceeded in handing you the bulk gray planner, “It includes passwords, data sheets, and all that good stuff.” 

You were amazed at how his demeanor had changed from clumsy-like to serious businessman in the blink of an eye. It was actually quite intimidating.

“Finances need to be kept in check, investors need to be accommodated, and well I just want to come back to everything being normal,” he began to gather the remainder of his stuff, “also your money is going to be wired to your bank account on a weekly basis and well that’s really it. I’ll see you in 10 weeks Ms. L/N! Good luck!”

“Good luck..” you quietly repeated his final parting words back to yourself, watching as the elevator doors closed. You could see why his last assistant quit, you didn’t even know where to start. You took a deep breath deciding to make your way up to his office, your day was just getting started.

The condo may have looked like it came out of a show from HGTV, but Mr. Choi’s office looked like it came out of an episode of Hoarders Buried Alive. There were scattered papers everywhere, his desk was practically hidden by all the stacks of papers. Food wrappers and aluminum soda cans thrown around like the slob he was, the stench making you want to throw up. 

“Oh my God…” you said to yourself, this man was just a mess. 

You skimmed through some of the papers all of them having to do with different things ranging from firm performance, finances, legal forms, and much more. You could already feel a headache coming, but at the end of the day this was your job. You grabbed some storage boxes and began to label them with a black marker.

Your plan was to separate the papers into two sections: Important and Unimportant. Once you finished separating, you’d then shred what you deemed unimportant, and further organize what was important by date and then transfer them to his filing cabinets. It would take time, but it was the only method you could possibly think of. Your goal was to stop by 3 and then start working on Mrs. Choi’s closet.

You put on your earphones and began to play some music so that you wouldn’t be so stressed while organizing everything.

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s and bottles of bubbles…” you hummed to yourself and before you knew it, it was already 3. You had thrown out all of the trash in his office, and for the majority part most of his papers were organized. 

You sighed, now to get started with her damn closet.

Mrs. Choi’s closet was its own giant room, marble shelves stacked with bags and shoes, racks full of clothes, jewelry sparkling under their display showcase. The sparkling glass chandelier on the ceiling adding an extra oomph to the room. 

Hermes. Gucci. Chanel. Versace. Burberry. Balmain. Louis Vuitton. Saint Laurent. Fendi.

Any brand you could think of was in this closet, it was unbelievable. The closet had to be worth several thousands, no millions. So many questions were running through your head. How could someone just have so much? What do you even do with this amount of clothes? You were truly left speechless.

Shaking your head, you began to pick up all the clothes on the floor deciding that it was best to organize everything by color, your day almost done.

By the time your alarm went off it was already six which is the time that Mr. Choi had said you could leave, and it wasn’t like he was paying you extra for staying any longer and doing more work. For the most part, you had finished with both the office and closet and were just ready to go home, jump into bed, and watch some Netflix.

You went down the elevator,  satisfied at your first day on the job. This was going to be easy, you thought to yourself.

Just as you were leaving the lobby you heard Hoseok, “Hey I had your parking permit printed out!”  You stopped dead in your tracks, turned around and walked towards his desk. It wouldn’t hurt to make a little bit of conversation, right?

“Ah I had forgotten about that, thanks,” you chuckled.

“It’s no problem! The parking officer loves giving tickets.… so how was your first day?”

“Um not bad actually, a little boring to be honest,” you pondered at his question, for the most part you were being truthful, “Tomorrow I’m supposed to go and get Mr. Choi’s Mercedes Benz checked out, and then from there go and pick up some paperwork from some legal firm, transfer it onto his computer.”

“Well at least he’s not around to be over your shoulder, he practically had his last assistant going nuts,” he responded, laughing at the memory.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow,” you yawned, giving him a small wave goodbye.

“Hey well let me know if you ever need anything, and I’m being serious,” and to that you nodded, taking note of what he said.

Monday Afternoon.

[Incoming Facetime from: Ma 💞💗💓💕]

Immediately you clicked “accept”, having just gotten home and tidying up a couple things around the apartment. 

“So how was your first day?” your mom immediately questions you, clearly eager to know. 

“It was pretty decent ma, nothing I can’t handle,” you chuckled, “but wow was that man’s office practically a pig pen,” you complained only causing your mom to start laughing. 

“Oh I know,” she comments, only causing you to roll your eyes. 

“I think these 10 weeks should go by quite smoothly if I say so myself,” you sounded genuinely optimistic, “I met Hoseok you know,” your embarrassment had long subsided, instead finding it hilarious.

“Ah my Hobi!” your mom sounding delighted at the mention of the young boy, “a hard worker that boy is I'm telling you.” 

“He seems like it,” you had long concluded that he was when he had been explaining everything about the residency to you. He seemed like one of those people who even though they disliked their job, still put in their absolute everything into making sure they were the best at it. “You shoud’ve seen me giving him the googly eyes earlier,” you joked around. 

“Hobi is—” 

“Gay, yeah I know. I had to find that out the hard way,” you covered your face with your hands, playfully sulking. 

“Why do you think I stopped trying to set the two of you up,” your mom laughed. 

“Mm really ma? I would’ve never guessed,” sarcasm dripping from your words. 

“Hey remember who you’re sp—” 

“Anywayssss, how are you holding up out there?” you took a sip from the cup of juice you had served yourself earlier, your mom’s dismissive expression returning back to a smile. 

“Well the food around here is horrible! I told my nurse that they should let me in the kitchen for a change, but all she did was laugh!” You grinned at the idea of your mom actually working at the cafeteria for the sake of it. 

"Ah well I’lll make sure to bring you something on Wednesday.” 

“Did anything arrive in the mail today about the invoice for everything?” your mom asked, a look of worry now on her face. 

“No ma, and don’t even worry about anything like that okay? Focus on your treatment, and you let me handle the rest alright?” your voice now becoming stern, leave it to your mom to start worrying about finances. 

“I know, I know, but I know some fees were coming up and well—” 

“And I’m telling you to leave it to me, okay?” 

“Ah okay then, well I'm going to sleep already,” she yawned, “they’ve been prodding needles in me all day,” she tried to say it as lighthearted as she could, but she quickly regretted it as she saw the sudden sad look on your face. 

“Goodnight ma, I’ll see you Wednesday alright?” 

“Okay then Y/N, I love you.” 

“I love you too,” and with a small pressured smile, you clicked “end call”. An immediate sigh coming from your lips as you glanced at the several unsealed envelopes on your coffee table, many of the scattered papers stamped with a red “PAST DUE”. 

School, rent, the water bill, the light bill, the gas bill, your phone bill, the old hospital bills, the new ones, all due in such small amounts of time with almost no room in-between dates to rest. 

And so that night you laid in bed staring at your ceiling for what felt like hours unable to go to sleep. The only thing on your mind was how you were going to get the funds to pay for everything because well if you didn’t then you’d be left in hospital debt with an eviction notice right at your door and a whole bunch of other problems that you didn’t want to think about.

Deciding that it was best to get a breath of fresh air, you made your way to the rooftop, watching as the scattered stars glimmered in the sky. You sorta wished that life could be like those childhood TV shows where a shooting star would pass by and make your wish all come true, but the fact was, is that your life isn’t a movie or a tv show. This was your reality, and you were just going to have to suck it up.   

You unlocked your phone and texted the only person you possibly could.

[To: Yuna 🤍]

[10:09] you up??

You tapped your foot, waited for her to reply.

[From: Yuna 🤍]

[10:10] i'm offended that that’s even a question tbh

[you]

[10:11] you think you can come over? pleaseeee 🥺

[10:12] ik it’s late and you’re probably tired and work tmrw but i just rlly need some company rn

[From: Yuna 🤍]

[10:13] i’ll be there in 10, don’t judge how i look

[you]

[10:14] when have i ever…

Soon enough you heard a knock on your door.

“I brought your favorite snacks,” Yuna had a giant grin plastered on her face to which you couldn’t help but smile at. Her makeup-free face and bright Hello Kitty pajamas told you that she was probably in bed when you texted her. 

Once she slid off her shoes, she was quick to make herself feel at home by jumping onto your couch. Hell, this was basically her second home.

“Do you work tomorrow?” you asked her.

“I called off, I’ve already accumulated a lot of hours anyway and well I might as well start putting them to use,” she stated, as she munched on a freshly opened bag of barbeque chips. 

Yuna was a retail clerk at the local mall, attending fashion school at night in hopes of landing herself a future internship, but like you was currently on summer vacation. Even in middle school, becoming a world renowned fashion designer had always been her dream, having gone to the the principal’s office a countless number of times because she added some kind of tailor to the plain old school uniform whether it be bedazzles or embellishing some kind of bizarre pattern onto it. 

Yuna though was sadly a case of a prodigy without the resources, accepted to one of Seoul’s top fashion schools when the two of you had graduated high school. You were there the day she opened her letter of acceptance, the two of you along with her family celebrating by going to one of Seoul’s most expensive restaurants. But just as you were there the day she was accepted, you were also her shoulder to cry on the day she realized that the money she had saved up wouldn’t even cover a quarter of tuition costs, and her applications for scholarships had all fallen through. 

What you admired most about Yuna was that disappointment didn't stop her from trying. Her designs were truly one of a kind, and you weren’t even saying that because she was your best friend and had a bias towards her. You could only hope that one day she’d be recognized for her talents. 

You grabbed your blanket from your room and sat next to her on the couch. She stared at you while you flicked through different channels on the TV, sensing that something was wrong. 

You could practically feel her burning a hole through your head and so you decided to answer the question you knew was looming in her head, “I’m not okay,” you mumbled, letting out a sardonic laugh. “I’m trying to act like I am, but I'm just not,” you stared off into the TV not wanting to make eye contact with her, “it’s just not fair,” you whispered, confused with yourself as to whether you were sad or angry.

Yuna could feel her heart wrench as she listened.

“My mom’s been nothing but a kind person, I’ve been nothing but a kind person, and so I can’t help but ask why? What did we do to end up in a situation like this?” you hadn’t even realized that tears were falling from your eyes until you felt the salty drops of water make their way onto your lips, dripping from your chin, “The whole time I was in Mr. Choi’s condo looking around at the million dollar paintings, and organizing his wife’s thousand dollar outfits I kept thinking to myself how can a man like Mr. Choi just not care? He didn’t even bother to ask how she was...” you seethed, the emptiness in your voice had now become anger.

Yuna scoffed, “The rich are always looking down on us like we’re just nothing but money makers to them, demanding their respect like they deserve it for free.”

“I just,” you paused for a second, “I just don’t know what to do, I think I might have to start looking for a second job or something, or maybe even take a gap year...” you breathed out, running a hand through your hair in distress. 

And maybe one could call it fate with what you and Yuna had seen on your TV that night. Destiny perhaps. Whatever it was, it was going to open the doors to a brand new world. A world that you had only ever caught small glimpses of.

“Kim Taehyung is officially Seoul’s most eligible bachelor, our sources have confirmed that he and on and off again girlfriend Sunhi have called it quits permanently this time. The reason you may ask? Rumor has it that she was caught cheating on him,” the entertainment reporter had a giant grin on her face, “That’s right ladies, the heir to Kim Enterprises is back on the market.”

Pictures which you assumed were recent showed Taehyung partying, drinking, flashing expensive cars, and at red carpet events for major fashion brands. “Tweet us using hasht—” you changed the channel on the TV, bored of the topic at hand.

“I swear he’s the only person they talk about nowadays, I mean literally he’s everywhere!” you chuckled, turning your attention to Yuna who for some odd reason now had a look of disbelief on her face.

“Y/N… how did I— no how did we not think of this earlier?” Yuna got up from the couch like an excited toddler causing you to tilt your head to the side in honest confusion. 

“What the hell are you talking about now,” you said, laughing at how childish she looked. She was now pacing herself back and forth across your living room, her adrenaline practically visible.

“You know I don’t normally believe in this stuff but holy shit this has got to be a sign!” At this point you were convinced she was talking to herself considering she wasn’t even making direct eye contact when she said that. She frantically ran her hands through her hair, “I mean you have the quote on quote resources, the clothes, my fashion expertise, the car, the events, and he’s single now. Oh my God how did we not think of this,” you carefully listened to what she said trying to piece everything together. Resources? Clothes? Was she talking about Kim Taehyung?

Your eyes immediately widened when you put two and two together and realized what she was so excited about, and it was now your turn to get up from the couch.

“You’re literally insane you understand that right!?” you stared at her, completely baffled. You thought stopping her from pacing around would bring her back to reality and get that grin off her face, but if anything it did the opposite.

“Y/N! What are the chances that as we’re talking about your finance issues and then something like that comes up! What are the chances that you literally work for a millionaire who's going to be gone for several weeks and expects you to attend his events! You can’t tell me that this isn’t hmm…  I don’t know… Fate!” All you could do was stare at her in disbelief as she began to mumble something about this being something “straight out of a movie”. You were waiting for her to laugh and tell you this was all some kind of joke, but you soon realized she was being serious.

“The fact that you’re actually being serious about this is ridiculous!”

“And the fact that you think it’s ridiculous is what’s really crazy!” you shook your head refusing to accept what she was alluding to.

“Yuna! Let’s be rational he—”

“No, just listen to me Y/N. Please,” you looked at Yuna who had now calmed down, her face completely serious, “I know it seems out of the ballpark…” you nodded in agreement, “You have the opportunity to infiltrate the rich, and not just anyone but the Kim family! You know how many rumors there are about that family and their business!” she shouted while adding extra emphasis on the word infiltrate as if this was some kind of spy movie.

You sighed, “And how exactly would I do that? How could I not get caught up in lies? Why the Kim family? Why not not just steal some of Mr. Choi’s belongings and sell them on Ebay or something? Just what exactly are y—”

“You didn’t let me finish!” you grunted in annoyance. There were just so many questions running through your head, did she not realize the risk in what she was proposing? The consequences?

“You’re a stranger in their world, a brand new person … a brand new identity! You already have to go to these events as it is, and you can’t steal anything from Mr. Choi and sell it because I mean clearly he knows who you are. They, as in the rich, do not,” Yuna knew she had managed to grab your attention based on the look of skepticism on your face, “And technically you’re not going to be stealing Mrs. Choi’s clothes, you’ll be um ... borrowing them.” she flashed a giddy smile, “10 weeks Y/N, 10 weeks to get Kim Taehyung to fall in love with you, blackmail money out of that family, and then poof you disappear without a trace!”

“You have no idea how many questions are running through my head at this very moment.”

“And I think I can give you answers to them all, but please Y/N just think about it! It would solve all of your problems, financially at least,” you jokingly hit her shoulder as she teased you with the last part of her sentence, “you wouldn’t be doing it for yourself, you’d be doing it for your mom.”

“For my mom…” you mumbled to yourself. Yuna stared at your blank expression. She could only assume that you were letting everything sink in before making a decision. On one hand you’d be able to pay for all of your expenses while still getting your job done, but on the other you'd be using someone under a false pretense in order to blackmail money out of them. You’d literally be infiltrating the rich. You were scared. What if you got caught? Would you go to jail? What would happen to your mom?

You had made your decision.

“I trust you Yuna… I really do…” she now had a worrisome look on her face, “and so..” without even realizing it Yuna had been crossing her fingers, “I’m in.”  

“Oh my God,” she let out a sigh of both relief and disbelief, a beaming smile on her face.

“But!” her smile quickly disappeared after hearing your tone, “we need to plan this thoroughly, like a solid proof plan by tonight on pen and paper, you got me?” she nodded in agreement, “and I think there’s someone we need involved in this... “

She tilted her head in confusion.

“Who?”

Tuesday Morning.

“Yuna this is Hoseok, Hoseok this is Yuna,” the two shook hands giving one another a warm smile.

Yuna began eyeing you in a way of saying “Are you sure about this?”. You understood why she was skeptical of Yuna whether or not she’d agree to everything, hell you had your own doubts. What if Hoseok said no? Worse, what if he completely snitched you out? Then you’d be stuck with no job, no money, and probably blacklisted from all major companies in Seoul by Mr. Choi himself with the label “thief” over your head. You had to reassure yourself that everything would be just fine, “So what brings you guys here?”

“Well I was hoping I could talk to you um…” you glanced around, “somewhere private,” you whispered giving him a shy smile, “maybe up in Mr. Choi’s condo,” you offered remembering that Rachel could possibly be hearing (though you highly doubted she’d care).  

“Oh um… sure, let me just tell Rachel to cover for me,” he awkwardly dismissed himself to the back.

“I don’t know Y/N … he seems like the type of person to not want to risk his job..” Yuna whispered to you, she was clearly on high alert.

“He told me I could ask him for anything, and well I know I’ve only known her for about 24 hours, but I don’t know… something about him just seems reliable, I can't explain it. It’s just better to have him on our team than to be suspicious of us. I can’t do this whole infiltration thing being paranoid that the receptionist is going to snitch on me when he sees me walk out with clothes worth thousands of dollars,” you replied, “And if this really is playing out as a movie like you say, then we need someone whose tech savvy.” 

“You have a point,” she chuckled, “wait how do you know he’s good at computers again?” 

Your mind flashed back to the night before, while Yuna was asleep you had gone full stalker mode on Hoseok to get to the bottom of who he was. After hours of looking through different social media platforms you had ended up finding both his Twitter and Instagram @/junghsk, where he had pictures of his college graduation from 2 years ago. Major? Computer Science. It explained why he looked like he was in some Matrix movie the other day, and though of course it didn't mean automatically he was an expert, he definitely must’ve been better than both you and Yuna combined when it came to programming which is something (based on your plan) you were going to need for future endeavors. 

You also came to find out that he was an avid animal lover, taught cardio dance classes on morning weekends, likes to live tweet show series such as Games of Thrones, and is in a committed relationship with someone named Min Yoongi. What could you say? You liked to do intensive research. 

Once Hoseok returned the three of you went up to Mr. Choi’s condo, the elevator ride up was definitely awkward compared to the day before. 

Yuna was in clear awe of the place. You could tell she wanted to give herself a personal tour, but you shot her a look dismissing the idea as she could easily do that later.

“We should sit,” you suggested pointing to the kitchen’s island, "Yuna can make us all some instant ramen,” she immediately shot you a look of annoyance, but didn’t argue with you making her way to the pantry.  

“So...” he quietly mumbled at an attempt to break the ice, making small tapping noises on the island’s surface with his fingers. 

Flashing him a pretentious smile, you awkwardly glanced around trying to think of something to make small talk with, “Um do you like Games of Thrones?” 

Immediately he grinned, you expected a “yes” to come out of his mouth but instead he said, “Ah so that was you yesterday!” 

The color drained out of your face , wait what? He began to laugh, making small claps as he threw his head back, “You were stalking me,” his face scrunched up as he began to tease you. 

“What are you talking about?” your tone becoming defensive along with your eyebrows furrowing, only causing his fits of laughter to become louder. His index finger wiping the tears that began to form in his eyes. 

“Don’t act like you didn't like and unlike my picture at like 3 in the morning!” He suddenly pulled out his phone, showing the notification which he hadn’t cleared from his phone, showing your username and the words “liked your photo” following right after. You had forgotten about that... 

It was already 3AM and you were beginning to doze off, eyelids barely even open. You saw the white heart on Instagram appear on a 56 week old picture which you immediately unliked, also causing you to jolt out of your comfortable position in panic. 

Damn you Instagram. “Whatever you need must be pretty important if you’re up at 3AM instastalking me.” 

“Oh shut up—” 

“Well since you were on there, what hair color do you prefer on me: red, brown, or black?” You scowled before muttering a quiet “brown”. “Really I’ve been told red looks best on me, hmm...” he pondered, pressing his index finger onto his bottom lip. "So are you going to tell me what this is all about anytime soon or ...” he said, his tone coming out more demanding than he intended, but Hoseok was the kind of person that didn’t like to beat around the bush, rather preferring to be told things straight up as they were. 

“Okay..” You started, explaining to him of your situation starting from your mom, to the bills you needed to pay, why this job just wasn’t enough, why you needed to go ahead with your plan, why you needed him to be in on everything, and emphasizing that you weren’t doing this for yourself but your mom. By the time you finished explaining, Yuna was already done making the noodles.

Hoseok sat there in silence, you could hear your heart from your chest, your fingers getting slightly sweaty as you thought of the different possible outcomes. The deafening silence had made you feel like you guys were there for hours. Honestly, you could have heard a pin drop. 

It wasn’t until you saw his signature smile beginning to form on his face that you could’ve sworn you felt bricks actually fall off your shoulders.

“Okay let’s do it,” he stated as he began to slurp on his noodles.

“You’re in?” Yuna asked in complete shock, eyes completely widened. He nodded in return clearly enjoying his food, “You don’t have any questions? No concerns?”

Hoseok shrugged, “Mm well of course I’m curious as to what exactly the plan is, which I’m sure you’ll be explaining to me soon, but nope. I’d probably say no if the cause wasn’t for something important,” he looked at you giving a warm compassionate smile, “and this has got to be the most interesting thing that’s happened on this job for the past 2 years so there’s that,” his brows knitting remembering past situations with residents, “and lastly these snobs deserve what’s coming to them,” he finished off causing all three of you to laugh. 

“Well then cheers to mission… ummm... “ Yuna placed her finger on her chin, causing you to facepalm yourself as she was trying to think of a name for something so irrelevant.

“7 Rings,” Hoseok interjected , “like the Ariana Grande song. I want it, I got it!” 

“You like my hair gee thanks just bought it!” you guys simultaneously sang at the top of your lungs, clinking each other’s drinks.

And so that was how mission “7 Rings” came into fruition, but of course like everything else in the world, nothing ever goes as planned. If only you had realized then that things were going to change, whether they were for the better or for the worse… well that was for you to find out on your own.

author’s note 🧚🏻 : SK has universal health care but for the sake of the plot we’re going to have to pretend they have a private healthcare system so please don’t attack me lmao. Also please like & repost as it keeps me motivated to write and update faster !! Thank you in advance if you do 💞

[starryseung]

can u write a seungmin smut wherein he's a school nerd?🥺 pls i love your writings sm♥️

kim seungmin + smut

☾ 

word count; 2.7k words warnings; oral (giving), car sex, kinda dumb plot but yeah haha

Tutoring

“Hey y/n! Look at this, come quick!”

Your best friend Taehwa, held up her phone, showing you the new class seating arrangement. Your teachers had suggested for a while now, that only a few students were socializing with the rest of the class in group projects, and so, they decided to shuffle the positions you all were usually seated in. A few other girls from your class gathered around, hoping they would find a seat next to the queen bee.

Who, you may ask? You! Of course.

(a/n: this is so cringe wtf)

The girls that were previously huddled around you slowly started moving away, cursing few words in disappointment. You take a good look at the excel sheet, cocking your eyebrows at the list. You were seated right next to Kim Seungmin. The biggest nerd of the school. He was quiet, always glued to books, was rumored to be a virgin, but no one cared. And the fact that the school’s nerd™ was seated right next to the school’s queen™, you knew you were going to have some serious fun. 

••••

The first day rolls about pretty well, better than you’d expected, at least. You realized just today that you and Seungmin shared almost all classes. However, you realized, above all the things he was good at, he undoubtedly sucked at literature. He seemed to never get the hang of all the allusions, metaphors, imagery, symbolism, and even lucid things like the poetic devices or similes in the piece of literature given to him. At least, there was something he was bad at!

Nevertheless, your teacher paired you up together so that you could tutor him to fill in the dents he was lacking in. You happily agreed, feeling pride and honor that you were going to be tutoring The Kim Seungmin. Today was your first day tutoring him, so during your recess, you decided to hoard all resources for him so that it would be easier for the poor boy to understand the complexities of the subject.

The library was rarely packed, including today. You quickly find a spot in the near end where you and Seungmin could peacefully study, isolated from all the commotion at the front of the large hall. You flipped through a few pages, opening your laptop so that you could be ready for whenever Seungmin arrives.

You hear footsteps, and you look up to look at Seungmin with an apparent friend, someone you’d never expect to be with him. Hwang Hyunjin— the school’s prince. You two were… good friends. You two were paired for a Chemistry project a year ago, and after that, you stopped contacting him, until he started dating Taehwa six months ago. Nothing had gone wrong between you two though. It was just the usual teasing and insults thrown at each other since he was your best friend’s boyfriend. But now that you learned that he was friends with Seungmin, you were a little confused, to say the least.

Hyunjin looks at you and laughs in shock. “You’re going to be tutoring him! The world is finally ending! Come on Seungmin, I’d even believe that the sun rises in the west then believe that this dumbass is going to tutor you!”

“Excuse me. You can see who the dumbass is after he aces every test in Literature with the help of this dumbass!”

“Silence, students. This is a library.”, the librarian glares at you two, placing a finger at her lips to emphasize her point. You two bow at her and Seungmin waves away his friend, who glances at you and pokes his tongue out at you cheekily before leaving. You ignore him, acknowledging Seungmin walking towards you, his previous toothy-smile faded and replaced with the usual simper. He sits next to you and places his bag down, straightening up for the tutoring. You decide to inquire about Hyunjin later on and stick to tutoring for now. 

Shortly after, when Seungmin starts to get the hang of the sixteen-page document in front of him, he sighs in content and leans back in his chair. You decide to strike the iron when hot and reach out to ask him subtly.

“So… You hang out with Hyunjin?”

He giggles softly, taking off his glasses. 

“Yeah. I can have friends too, you know.”

You think he thinks you think nerds can’t have friends? Well, he was right somewhere along the lines, but you had never seen him with Hyunjin, who was the parallel opposite of him. 

“N-No! I meant, you,” you wave your hand up and down him, and then point a thumb in the direction Hyunjin had left in with an expression of disgust, “friends with… him?” 

He laughs this time, finding it hilarious how you seemed to be astonished at the bond between the two males. He puts his glasses back on, stretching his arms and legs after being in the position for so long, the grin not leaving his lips. Leaving your question hanging in the air, he closes his notebook, picking it and getting up while slinging his backpack across his shoulders. He starts taking small steps away from you, turning mid-way to declare with a smirk,

“It’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n. Thanks for the help.”

••••

The next few days advance, and you’re quick to grasp that Kim Seungmin was a two-sided coin. The smirk he would toss at you spoke a story that his innocent looks would dare reveal. You knew you had to up your game to show him you were more daring than he believed you to be. You and Seungmin were meeting up at the library for the past week, and today you knew just what to do. At the end of the day, you message Seungmin to meet you at the same spot, to which he replies with a ‘sure’. 

“Seungmin! Here!”, you whisper-yell, catching the attention of Seungmin as well as the tall man walking next to him. Hyunjin bares you a look, smirking as your eyes meet. You smile back in return, and Seungmin shoves him, making him leave your field of vision. You giggle and drag back the chair for Seungmin, pulling back a few books to start teaching him. You don’t miss the frown lingering on his features, but just like before, decide to trouble him later on.

You start with lessons on allegories, explaining each paragraph simultaneously from the chunky book in front of you two. He nods and hums attentively, asking doubts somewhere where he thought you were going briskly. He seemed to understand everything so to test him, you hand him a small exercise to fill in some basic literary terms. You start surfing on your Instagram feed, occasionally glancing at him to see if he was answering correctly. After a while, he huffs and hands you the piece of paper and you take it from him.

As you start skimming through the answers, you inquire, “What’s with the frown, huh?”

“You’re doing it on purpose, yeah?”

You giggle, eyebrows raising at his sudden change of demeanor, “Doing what?”

He doesn’t even try to explain himself and instead, crashes his lips onto yours. You press your palms against his chest in a failed attempt to push him away, but lean in to kiss him further. Things had taken a sudden swerve, but you definitely didn’t mind. Your movements are halted when Seungmin wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

You shift to his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck to deepen the kiss. His grip on your hips never falters, and you gasp into the kiss when he pushes you down on his crotch. Either it’s the heat of the situation, or the fact that you were doing it in the school’s library, but you started to feel hot all over. You start grinding down on his hips, a low groan erupting from him. He bites down on your lips, shoving his tongue between your lips.

You whine softly when his arms rub up and down your sides, nails digging into the flesh of your waist. You reach your hands lower to press against the rising tent in his jeans, and he grunts into the kiss. You smirk —realizing that behind all his strong and innocent character, he’s all putty in your hands— and grab his length through the thick layer of jeans. He whines and loosens his grip on you, throwing his head back. 

He grips on you tightens when he hears footsteps near the aisle of books right next to you, but resumes his actions once the sounds move further away. 

“Hey! What’s going on!”

A voice booms from a couple of feet in front of you two. You gasp and stand up, fixing your skirt and tousled hair. The librarian looks down at you two from her glasses, nostrils flaring. 

She posed an option to you: Either call up your parents and get them to pick you up, or sit in detention until 3. You two obviously chose the latter,but even so, it didn’t help that she had you two sit in detention after school for around two hours.

“This is my first time here, in detention”, the boy speaks up softly, cautious of the teacher almost dozing off in front of you. 

“Me neither, and this is so exhausting. I can’t wait to go home,” you huff out, holding your head in your hands. 

You look up at the old man sitting on the desk ahead, and notice he’s almost snoozed. You quietly pick up your bag, motioning Seungmin to get up too. He looks up at you wide eyed, contemplating if he should be doing this after all he’s already done. 

Nevertheless, it doesn’t take much to convince him, and soon enough you two are out of the building. 

“I can drop you home if you want..?” you inquire, as if asking for a chance of an apology. To your surprise, Seungmin immediately agrees. 

Of course, he had other plans.

You get in the car, revving up the engine to life. You turn on the air conditioner and sigh, mouth agape as you calm down from the recent fiasco. Seungmin chuckles softly at your state and runs a hand through his hair to push them back. 

You unbuckle your belt and lean up to him from the driver’s seat, kissing his jaw and nipping at the soft skin. You feel his hands wrap around your waist, carefully pulling you towards himself, which was possible thanks to your rather spacious car. You settle between his legs, lips not leaving his. 

You unbutton his pants and push them down, looking at how his cock strained against the fabric of his boxers. You took your sweet time, grazing your nails against his shaft, squeezing the tip between your fingers.

He bucked his hips, craving for some action. You give in to him, pulling his boxers down, and his length springs up. Your mouth waters at the sight of his angry red tip, and you quickly shuffle out of his lap so that his length is right in front of you. You lick a strip from the base up, and he groans, mouth hanging  open in pleasure. You note his response as a key for you to go ahead, and so, you suck at a spot right under his tip, licking at the vein jutting out across the length. Seungmin’s grip shifts towards the soft cushion of the seat, nails digging into the leather. 

You quit teasing and lick your lips before wrapping your lips around his tip, slowly taking him in. You go down on him, devouring every inch each second, and once his length touches the back of your throat, you swallow around him, your muscles pressing against different spots of his shaft. He gasps, accidentally thrusting up into your mouth harshly. You quickly clasp your hands on his thighs and push him down, and he mumbles a soft “sorry”. You look up at how fucked out he looks, mumbling incoherent profanities and ‘oh god’s every now and then. 

A sense of pride swells in your chest when you realize you were going to corrupt him, and the fact that you were going to do it in the school’s parking lot made you go crazy. You swallow around him once again, lying your tongue flat against his shaft. He whines from above, upset at the restraints your hands provide that stop his movements. You feel his dick twitch inside your mouth and you release his length with a lewd pop, replacing it with your hand. You pump your hand up and down his length, the other rubbing small and harsh circles on his slit. 

He releases his cum in spurts, coating his length and your hand in his juices. You grab a tissue from the box placed on the dashboard and wipe up the mess he made. He reaches out his hands to pull you up into a kiss. The kiss was still passionate, but more heated, considering the situation. 

“Being bold now, are we?”

He shakes his head, muttering a small ‘no’. You cock your head to the side, buy he does nothing and instead holds both your hands behind your back, slightly tugging your hair, as if experimenting with everything he had available. You groan when you feel his hands run up and down your panties under your mini skirt. His fingers press your hole through your panties, and you try your hardest to stifle a bubbling moan when he grinds his hips against yours. 

You throw your head back, the intense feeling coursing through your veins. Seungmin doesn’t waste a moment and pushes your panties aside, stuffing you with his fingers. You moan aloud, not afraid of being caught anymore. His digits pump in and out of you, curling them inside you every other second. You feel blood rush to your cheeks when you hear the squelching sounds of your arousal which slowly drips out of you and creates a mess on his fingers and jeans. 

You grip the base of his cock, giving it a few pumps before aligning it with your heat. His fingers leave you immediately, and he slowly pushes his length into you. 

Grunts and groans leave both of you, and you arch your back when he is inside you upto the hilt. You gyrate your hips on him, pushing him deeper in. His grip tightens on your waist, and he starts thrusting into you steadily. Each thrust feels deeper, harder. There are a million sensations swallowing you whole, and your legs feel weak and your mind goes haywire.

The cramped space of the car doesn’t help much, and the car windows start steaming up. Your breathing turns erratic, hips giving out. You can feel your oncoming high, and your movements stutter before you spasm around him, walls convulsing around his cock buried in you. You feel your abdomen loosen up, your juices flowing out freely.

Seungmin doesn’t stop. He continues thrusting into you, the overstimulation pushing you over the edge. Just when you feel you can’t take any more, Seungmin thrusts into you one last time before his orgasm washes over him. You lie on top of him, a sheen line of sweat covering the two of you alike.

Both of you come down from your highs, the sensations taking a while to leave your minds. Seungmin is the first one to nudge your shoulder, and you take the hint and get up slowly, cautious of the roof close above you. You grab a few more tissues and clean yourself up, handing over the box to him to do his business.

You pull down the car windows and drive out of the place. A smile never leaves the boy’s face, and you giggle at his expression, deciding to ask him about the things amusing him. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing. I guess that was… fun?”

—

a/n; so this one’s kiiiinnnnddaaaaaa longer than usual??? it took my like 3 blocks and 5 days to actually finish this off,,, so it isn’t proofread hahaha 😔✊

[sleepy-exe]

Shapeshifter AU - 6

Iwaizumi x f!reader

<< Part 5 | Part 7 >>

Summary: Mizuki and Y/n have a girls’ night after getting ditched by someone else again. Y/n wants to see Iwaizumi again. Sakusa is done with her shit. 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: none

Genre: sfw (for now, 18+ regardless), shapeshifter au, strangers to lovers

a/n: Is Mizuki modeled after my own friend that I lovely dearly? Maybe.

Part 6: Girls’ Night

Soft lofi beats play softly in the background. Steam in the air gives the bathroom lights a glowing halo around each lightbulb. Bathtub filled with hot water, a thick layer of bubbles on top. Phone resting in one hand as Y/n relaxed in her bath, unwinding for the evening.

With a sigh, she sunk further into the tub, water splashing her chest. Another night that Mizuki’s plans were canceled. Another night Y/n would likely be the backup plan. Not that she minded being second choice. Mizuki is a major social butterfly, more than Y/n can handle on her own all of the time. So she welcomed not being the first choice every time.

She rested her head back and closed her eyes, hand with the phone hanging over the edge of the tub. Her friend’s night may need to be rescued, but it's not like it's an emergency or anything. She could take some time to enjoy her bubble bath first, right?

Sudden ringing jerked her from her relaxed state.

Or not..

Glancing at her phone she could see Mizuki was trying to video call her. With a groan she denied the call and sat up, quickly texting before her friend could call again.

>> To ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “not now in the bath”

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “so?”

Her phone started ringing again and with another groan Y/n shifted lower into the tub once more, fishing bubbles to her chest before answering the call. With a tap, Mizuki was now looking right at her through the screen. “Can’t a girl enjoy her bath?”

“Don't sound so grumpy! Anyway, like I was saying, A-“

Checking in the little box in the corner that displayed her own face, she made sure she was covered enough.

“Are you even listening? Ugh, you’re acting like I’ve never seen you naked before.” The aggravated woman snarled through her screen.

“Sorry, sorry! And yes, he’s at the gym with Sakusa tonight. I already knew that.”

“But our plans!” The video shook as Mizuki moved about.

“No, your plans, Mizu’. Girl, I love you to death, but making plans with someone’s gotta go both ways. He didn't even know about your plans before he planned to go with ‘Kusa, did he?” She spoke calm but sternly. “I can’t say that’s his fault, dove.”

Mizuki was frowning, “Sigh! I guess you’re right, okay? But I was really hoping we could have gone out tonight, but he’s too busy with Sakusa.” Her frown faded to curiosity. “Say.. Do you think there’s anything go-”

“Mizu’!”

“Yeah yeah. They just spend a lot of time together is all.”

“They’re friends, colleagues, and neighbors and only one of them has a car. Of course they're together a lot. Besides, you spend every day with someone and yet you’re single, right?  That doesn’t mean anything.” She slipped further into the bath, knees poking out of the water and popping some bubbles with her free hand.

“Unfortunately, I am single! Otherwise I’d be spending my time with my date!”

“Uh huh,” emotionless she brought her attention back to her friend.

“Anyway..” Mizuki squinted at her. “How’s your love life going, huh? Pretty sure you’re married to your work.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Have any cute guys or gals around.”

“Mizuki,” she whined.

“What? We can’t all four be lonely and starving for intimacy,” she sang, batting her eyelashes.

“I’m not sure that any of us could possibly be lonely as much as we are around each other,” she said dryly, earning a whine from her friend. “And as far as I know, you’re the only one searching for.. intimacy.”

“Uh huh. Didn’t you spend your time with someone like two nights ago? Or did you just forget to let Sakusa know when you got home.”

Y/n looked away from her phone as if she was messing with something off screen so Mizuki didn't see her blush.

I messaged ‘Kusa that morn-.

Oh. Right.

“Mhmm. So who is this guy that you left me all alone for in my time of need?”

“You weren't alone,” she eyed her friend.

“I may as well have been without my sweet, dear Y/n.”

She tapped the side of the tub in annoyance. “So are you coming over or not?”

“Duh, I’m on my way already. Have you even been paying attention? I’ll see you in five!” She flashed her hand to the screen displaying five fingers.

“What!” Y/n lurched forward.

She cackles loudly. “So much not seeing you naked.”

Covering her chest with her available arm, she stood and pulled her phone close to her face. Scowling at the realization, “Really, Mizuki?!”

Throwing on shorts and a baggy sweater just in time for Mizuki to bang on the front door, Y/n raced over and let her in. She quickly locks the door again before rushing back to her bedroom. “Come on, Mizu’.”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” She chased after Y/n after removing her shoes and coat.

Mizuki walked in the bedroom to find her friend laying across her bed. And of course she flopped down beside her. “Can we get takeout?”

“You just got here!”

She whined, “But Y/n! You don't want to go out and I was hoping to go out to eat!”

“Ugh, okay.” She rolled to her side. “You order the takeout and pick something to watch, okay?”

“Okay! I have the app for that yummy noodle place down the road.”

“Cool. I just hate calling places.” She rolled again, this time onto her stomach and locked a leg around one of Mizuki’s.

Mizuki laughed. “Girl, don't you call places for work?”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“I don't see how ordering food over the phone is worse than that.” She tossed her phone next to Y/n’s head. “Put what you want on there.”

She orders from that noodle place enough to enter her order in a few swift clicks. “Here.” She handed the phone back then unhooked her leg from Mizuki and crawled across the bed to get her own phone.

“Aight, it's in!”

There was a sudden blaring for all of two seconds. “Oh look, if it isn’t your bestie.” She brought the phone to her ear, “Hey, shithead.. What?”

At least she didn't put him on speaker. Together they were always so loud.

Unlocking her own phone, she opened her messages.

>> To ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’)’: “you ratted me out to MIZUKI??”

A text from Iwaizumi popped up before Sakusa had even read her message. So she went back and forth between the two chats to talk to each of them.

>> From ‘zumi’: “Oikawa is on the plane. Idk if you planned to still talk to him but there's a major time distance where he lives. Just a heads up.”

>> From ‘zumi’: “Sorry if he freaked you out earlier”

>> From ‘zumi’: “He can be loud”

>> From ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’)’: “Punishment for not letting me know that you didn't get murdered.”

>> To ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’)’: “I did text you yesterday!”

>> From ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’)’: “Not when you got home.”

>> To ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’)’: “I did forget.. But to be fair I wasn’t home until almost noon”

>> From ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’)’: “I’m sure Mizuki is asking plenty of questions and loving that.”

>> From ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’)’: “I just like to know you’re safe when you start check-in texts like that. It’s not like I care what you do.”

>> From ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’)’: “Well as long as you aren’t being careless on your runs again.”

Internally moaning, she looked over her shoulder. Mizuki was still on the phone walking laps around the room.

>> To ‘zumi’: “no no he’s great! And thanks for the heads up. Let me know when he's back safe?”

>> To ‘zumi’: “Sorry to run out i really did need to get going and i wanted to let you have time with Oikawa before he left”

Suddenly, Mizuki jumped onto the bed. “So anyway. What were we talking about?”

“Uhh.. I don’t know.” Y/n kicked at her playfully. “How long until the food is here?”

>> From ‘zumi’: “Will do”

>> To ‘zumi’: “maybe I’ll see you again”

Mizuki grabbed her legs to avoid getting hit. “It’ll be quick. Who ya texting?”

“Just Sakusa,” she lied.

>> To ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’): “So here’s the thing.”

>> To ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’): “I didnt get spotted or anything! I’ve learned my lesson”

>> To ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’): “That will never happen again!”

>> To ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’): “But the guy I met at the bar may have been the guy that might have spotted me that night I was with you.”

Mizuki moaned, “Why’d he steal my dinner buddy?”

She snorted. “Maybe you should ask him.”

>> From ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’): “Y/n what the hell”

>> To ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’): “It’s fine!”

She clapped. “Done. Maybe he’ll feel bad and let me go next time.”

“You? At the gym?” She laughed.

Mizuki threw a pillow which whacked the back of Y/n’s head and bounced to the floor. They both laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. I don't wanna work out or be around some stinky guys.” She got up and walked up to the window, picking up the pillow and tossing it back on the bed. “Man, I really need to move. My window just faces a parking garage. Boring!”

>> From ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’): “Is it?”

>> From ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’): “Is it still a ‘maybe’ seen you?”

>> To ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa): “I think it’s fine.”

“Girl, you have the money. When’s your lease up?”

>> From ‘zumi’: “Hopefully not by accident next time.”

Oh?

“Ugh! Not for like six more months,” Mizuki complained.

“Well, I can help keep an eye out for available units here. But why don’t you make a list of places you think you’d like.”

“Yeah, that sounds real fun.”

“Funner than waking up to the slight of a parking garage?”

“Oh you ass!” She balled up a shirt from the floor to chuck at Y/n, but a knock at the front door caught her attention. “Food is here! I’ll go get it.”

“Thank you, Mizu’.”

>> To ‘Emergency Contact (‘Kusa’): “It’s fine. I was just keeping an eye on him is all.”

>> From ‘zumi’: “Do you go to the park during daylight hours or is that strictly an after hours thing for you?”

“Hey girly!” Mizuki popped her head through the doorway. “I've got the goods and Netflix is ready. Come on!”

Y/n rolled out of bed. “Alright, alright. Let’s get this girls’ night started, yeah?”

>> To ‘zumi’: “depends..”

>> To ‘zumi’: “are you asking to go with me next time?”

Part 7>>

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 17 - Leon with Flowers, Part 2

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell​ - here is chapter 17

Leon with Flowers

(Part 2)

…

…

["I don't know how to describe the places I was in today, the searing pain and torment of thousands and thousands of beings, myself with them, tortured to their breaking point and then beyond. I did not want to believe that regions of such unspeakable horror existed. I moved through layer after layer of anguish, descending into more and more primitive levels until eventually I reached a level I can only liken to hell itself. Excruciating pain. The suffering tears you apart until you've died a thousand times and can't die any more. Then you find a way to die some more."

- A Perinatal Interpretation of Frightening Near-Death Experiences: A Dialogue with Kenneth Ring, by Christopher M. Bache, Ph.D.]

…

…

It’s time for dinner and you are starving but unfortunately for you, Graves cannot cook even if his life depended on it and so he takes you to Bob’s Your Uncle in Circhester for a swanky three dollar fifty burger meal.

You stand beside Graves with your Rotom who continues struggling to get a signal; he isn't doing so well for some reason and you're beginning to think maybe he could be ill and a trip to the Pokemon centre might be needed.

Beside you, a father and daughter duo are ordering food at the counter adjacent to yours. The dad bears a striking resemblance to Rose and is extraordinarily loud as he orders from the menu whilst his daughter cringes and glances around, hoping no-one is staring at them.

Graves is unaffected.

“Yeah, she’ll have the, uh, Bob’s cheeseburger meal with the Bob shake-shake fries and a Bob soda. I’ll have a Bob’s triple cheeseburger with extra Bob special sauce, Bob large fries, a portion of Bob nuggets and the Bob spicy wings,” he says as he leans on the counter and stares up at the menu board that hangs off the ceiling; the lightbulb is about to give way and it crackles and fizzes weakly.

Is there anything here that isn’t ‘Bob’? you wonder to yourself as the cashier reiterates the order.

Even the toilet signs are labelled ‘Bobs’ and ‘Bobettes’.

The cashier punches the order in and Graves pays, then he grabs two Bob straws and some Bob napkins and Bob-BQ sauce. He tells you to search for a seat whilst he waits for the food.

You haven’t eaten at Bob’s Your Uncle since Sonia took you a year ago or so, and the food is yummy but greasy and mostly geared towards families and kids; you find a quiet seat away from a large family of six where the exhausted-looking parents deal with their screaming children who are playing with plastic Centiskorch figurines.

And Graves arrives in a few minutes with a large tray of food.

“Here we are,” he says, placing the tray down and rubbing his hands together as you glance at the two wrapped burgers, the fries, the nuggets and wings; he begins stripping the paper covers of the Bob straws and hands one to you, “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

He holds up two Centiskorch figurines wrapped in plastic. “They gave me these for free. One for you and one for me.”

Although it's been a while, Graves still treats you like a baby.

You want to decline but Graves hands you one and pockets his own, then picks up his large Bob burger, inspects it briefly before taking a large bite.

“How's your arm?” he grunts out.

"I'm fine. How was your talk with Rose?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, this is for you," Graves fumbles in his pockets before he pulls out an envelope for your taking, "I know you told me to look for the painting but we swept the entire area and found no painting made of human skin, hair and blood."

"Damn it. Rose hasn't contacted me for any follow-up nor has he mentioned anything regarding my payment."

"I covered it. You don't need to do a thing. I spoke to him about your contract and terms and conditions, also told him you're my goddaughter so we came to a mutual agreement. I managed to persuade Rose that he was being a bit too quick to penalise and you're still kids so you're bound to mess up and he agrees he's being harsh, so he says he understands your hard efforts and he says thank you for everything you've done, so he's forking out a bit more than what was on your contract. But I don't want you speaking to Rose anymore and he don't wanna talk to you either."

"I didn't mess up," you bark as you lift the flap and pull out a little piece of paper lodged inside. It's a cheque and the figure is huge. In fact, the sum is bigger than any case you've taken. Your eyes widen in their sockets at the extortionate amount and you gape at Graves.

"You did well," he says.

"This is hush money," you hiss, waving the cheque in the air.

"Just be glad you got some kind of compensation."

"What about Tanner and Cole?"

"They got paid too. The amount was less than yours, of course."

"Are you serious?! They got paid off too???" you exclaim. Graves merely blinks numbly and you growl in response, your fist curling tightly around the cheque, "I don't want it."

He narrows his eyes, puts down his burger and you know he's serious when the food is no longer his priority. Looking at you squarely in the eye, Graves jabs a finger at your direction and says, "Here's some advice: take the damn money."

"You don't understand-"

"No, I do understand. You're bitter and angry and you look like you're in the wrong. He used you and he's managed to shift it in his favour. He got away with it and I get how you're feeling, with the injustice of it all. But this is Chairman Rose of Macro Cosmos we're talking about and we have no proof of whatever shady business he was up to which you and I both know, and this is the best I could do. And I'm very sorry, but you need to accept it, okay?"

"But-"

"This is a life lesson. Learn from this."

".............Fine," you begrudgingly grunt under your breath after a prolonged and insufferable, tense bout of hesitation, and you angrily stuff the cheque into a random pocket of your bag and concentrate on devouring the rest of your meal.

The atmosphere has turned horrendous and as usual, it's because you and Graves are at odds some way or the other and an uneasy silence spawns between you and your godfather. Frustrated, you discover you may no longer have any appetite if you look at him any longer therefore you avert your gaze to the window where various passerbys with their Snoms and Bergmites brush past and Graves focuses ahead at the wall behind your head. Occasionally, he will clear his throat and grunt.

"I got a question," he suddenly says.

“What?”

“Are you dating Leon?”

You almost choke on a fry. “No.”

His expression scrunches with mild disbelief whilst you avert your glimpse to your lap and Graves raises a brow.

"I know that look. I know what that means," he says, but your lips remain sealed. "Alright, you don’t wanna tell me. That’s fine. It’s none of my business anyway. As long as you’re not doing drugs or smoking or whatever, I’m not going to pry.”

You suppose you can tell him, Graves being your godfather and all.

“Leon and I met in the Wild Area a while ago; this was before the Giant's Seat incident. He helped me with a case, and afterwards I warned him not to go near the Giant’s Seat due to the missing people. He somehow went there anyway and I saved him. He wanted to thank me so I had dinner at his house. I guess you can say it’s strictly business.”

“Business….?”

You nod. “Then I took Rose’s case and Leon came and-“

Graves waits for you to finish but you have frozen in your seat so he says, "And?”

“He came to save me,” you murmur, “That’s the first thing he did. He raced over to save me.”

He observes as a smile blooms on your face and you sigh. As you think about Leon, your smile widens.

"I know that look as well," Graves utters, brows raising a further time as he grabs a napkin and dabs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, it's about time you got yourself a boyfriend. And I'm damn relieved it's not that pal of yours, Jace. It's great that it's the Champion, I don't need to vet him."

"What do you mean?"

"I have a right to know and meet the boy you're dating. Your dad will be so worried-"

You and Graves blink at each other, before he sighs.

"You know, when you were unconscious, they said you called out for your parents a lot," he mutters, "I have a photo of them. I think you should have it.”

Placing his burger down, Graves wipes his greasy hands clean with a wet wipe before he pulls out his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and brings out a glossy print.

You take it off him after you settle your own burger down and wipe your hands. It’s a small photo of your mother and father sitting on a picnic mat with a baby bouncing on their laps. It’s you, and beside them are their pokemon: Ghastly and Sableye. You also spot a young Graves with a blonde-haired young woman to their left.

“Is that Ellen?” you ask, “your girlfriend?”

Graves raises a brow, surprised. “How’d you know?”

“I remember her.”

“I’m surprised you do.”

“I remember mum and dad mentioning her a few times. What happened to her?”

“She passed away."

“…I wasn’t aware. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

“Car crash. It was a while ago, I've dealt with it.”

You wonder if this is Graves’ attempt to bond with you and your table grows quiet as Graves chews silently before he swallows down the rest of his burger.

“I don’t like to think about it,” he says when he’s finished, “…If she went to heaven or hell or not. I like to just think that she’s…well…that’s it. It’s over. You’re gone. There’s nothing. It’s…a simulation or something. I don’t like to think about what’s on the other side. I don’t want to think about returning to this earth. This is hell, I believe. This is punishment.”

Aware that you’re discussing with Graves about mortality and this is the most he’s spoken to you about the great beyond, you sit up properly in your seat for a change.

“There are accounts from those who experience NDE’s-“

“What’s that?”

“'Near Death Experience'.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, these accounts insinuate the existence of a heaven and hell. There are some who saw a light or experienced overwhelming peace, and then there are those who describe descending into an unending darkness and hearing the most inhumane noises known to man. And lastly, some saw nothing but darkness and a hoofed creature.”

“Good grief,” Graves chokes out, and he looks uncomfortable so you decide to stop.

“Try not to see it that way,” you add in an attempt to lighten the gloomy atmosphere, “life is too short. Make the most of it while you can.”

Graves wipes at his forehead with a clean napkin before he nods briefly. “Listen, kid, I’m sorry if you ever felt like I wasn’t there for you or if I didn’t do enough. I think about that night and I...I miss your father a lot. I miss your family. And I know you’re still mourning for them,” he says, “I know.”

"I-"

Rotom flies from your pocket and zooms into the air, grinning widely. "I'm baaaaaack! ZZzzzignal!!! Bzz bzz bzz! Zrttt! Oh my dayzzz, you've received five mezzagezzz and three mizzzzed callzzzz from Le-Le-Le-Leon!"

"Uh...Is your phone okay?"

"Yeah, he's just excited."

You grab Rotom and he allows you to check what Leon has sent you: he tells you he dropped by the hospital but you had left. He's been trying to reach you and he called Sonia but she doesn't know where you are either. You quickly type a reply, apologising for not being able to reply on time and that Graves had picked you up.

"Graves, can we go?" you ask, when you finish replying and Rotom moves to hover near your shoulder with a huge grin on his face.

Your godfather grunts under his breath. "Fine, let me finish the fries first..."

After dinner, it’s getting late and although you're desperate to go home, Graves asks if you want to stay over. Graves has a house in Wyndon and he does have a room for you should you ever decide to stay with him but you decline because you’re used to staying with Magnolia and Sonia. Regardless, he tells you the room is available for you should you ever need it.

He drives you to Wedgehurst, navigating his car over the bumpy road of Route 2 and he drops you off at the doorstep of the quaint house, parking the car beside the lawn; the front door subsequently opens upon your arrival and Magnolia comes hobbling out followed by Sonia, Poltea and Cutie.

You all share an embrace as Graves exits the car to open the boot to grab your possessions.

“Thank you, Inspector Graves,” Magnolia says as Graves waddles up with your bag slung over his shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” he says; he’s so tall he towers over your entire group.

“Would you like to stay for tea?”

“We already ate,” Graves says with a guffaw.

Everyone heads inside; Magnolia and Graves bring their conversation to the conservatory whilst Sonia helps you with your bag and you head upstairs together.

“You seem to be getting along better,” she comments as you climb the steps with the pokemon clinging to your shoulders.

“He’s trying his best,” you reply as Cutiefly nuzzles your cheek affectionately.

“Leon popped by earlier,” Sonia says, “He said he wasn't able to reach you and was dying to know if you were back home or not. When I said you weren’t, he left with Charizard. He looked really sad.”

"Yeah, I've had terrible signal problems all day," you reply, and Sonia raises a brow.

“I knew there was something going on between you,” she replies, before she flashes you a wide grin. “Don’t leave him hanging.”

“I already messaged him, Sonnie, don’t worry.”

Once you’re in your shared bedroom, Sonia plops down on her bed with a sigh and your shadow contorts in bizarre fashion; this can only mean one thing, and Gengar promptly emerges. He seems happier to be back home than in the hospital.

“Hey Gengar,” you say, whilst he swims around in the air, carefree. You rummage through your bag to find Mimikyu and Runerigus’ capsule and proceed to let them out.

Runerigus is the newest addition to your team and although you’re a little anxious to release him, Tanner has informed you he is a ‘chill guy’, which is a little odd to describe a pokemon but you take Tanner’s words to heart as the stone pokemon emerges before you.

You were under the impression that he would be quite a large and intimidating pokemon but he is in fact, shorter than Gengar who looms over it. From what you know about Runerigus, they're solitary pokemon who can live for many years and their bodies consist of the grey slabs pieced together by cursed shadow matter. Your team is growing bigger but nevertheless your pokemon gather round and Sonia leaps from the bed to stand behind you, peering over your shoulders.

“Oh, a Runerigus…Where’d you get him from?” she asks as Runerigus looks around his surroundings cautiously.

“From a painting made out of human skin, hair and blood,” you reply, and she shudders violently, “I heard he’s nice.”

“Okay….”

You focus on the pokemon and say, “Welcome,” as Runerigus exchanges glances between all of you, “I hope you like it here.”

Looking right and left with its single purple eye, it clasps its large hands together and nods. It appears to be trying to communicate as it continues shifting its gaze up and down until it spots Leon’s poster on your wall and appears stunned, glancing at his image. It shuffles over, its rocky body dragging against the floorboards and emitting sounds identical to a fork scraping on a plate; Sonia clamps her hands over her ears from the deafening noise.

It stops in front of Leon’s poster and turns to you, pointing at it eagerly.

“Ohh, I get it. You need something to haunt,” you say, and it nods fiercely. “Go ahead.”

It flaps its arms up and down energetically before it inspects Leon’s print from head to toe, then it proceeds to spring up and off the ground and dives for the poster; you and Sonia stare with widened eyes; instead of crashing into the wall, it dissolves inside and the poster ripples.

Leon’s eye, which was once a beautiful golden hue, converts to a brutal shade of violet.

“Are you sure about this?” Sonia asks, cocking her head and crossing her arms with her finger under her chin.

You nod as Runerigus looks around before his eye creases with content. “Yep. He looks right at home. I'm fine with that.”

“As long as he doesn’t peep on us whilst we’re changing, I’m fine too.” Sonia adds.

Runerigus rolls his single eye.

As the evening progresses, Runerigus returns to his capsule after hanging around in Leon's poster for a while, Graves bids farewell after he's chatted with the professor and returns home, Magnolia goes to sleep and Sonia asks if you want to go with her to attend some exclusive makeup event with Nessa that’s taking place in Hotel Ionia. You politely decline because you want to spend some time with your Pokemon.

Therefore, you are alone and left to your own devices and you haven't received any response from Leon yet and you don't know where he is or what he's up to. However, instead of waiting around like a lovesick Lillipup, you opt to be productive and since you’re no longer going to take on any cases for the time being, you make some edits to your homepage, outlining that you will go on a much needed hiatus.

You also begin packing away some of your tools, namely the Khira dagger and your talismans which you tuck away into a safety box that you keep under the bed.

With Graves’ photo, you place it inside the box where it joins a small stash of old, salvaged photographs.

One photograph depicts your parents on their wedding day and the other is the last photo you took together as a family: a trip to Dendemille Town with a rented RV. You rub your thumb gently over their smiling faces.

Another photograph contains yourself and Jace. Not only did you have a questionable hairstyle and fashion sense but you appear jaded with a timid smile whilst Jace is grinning and shaking your hand, marking the beginning of a long-lasting friendship. Considering how long you have been friends, it’s then you realise Jace isn’t exactly the best candidate to take over should anything happen to you and you will need to find someone else….but that’s a thought for another day, you suppose.

Next, you grab your old journal where you had detailed Ezra’s teachings and all the symbols and exorcism prayers he taught you. You flip through the notes you made on pronunciation, translations and all your trials and errors and your mistakes.

As you continue packing, you pull out your radio and dad's journal from your bag which you will continue to keep with you for now.

Although you're not going to take on any cases, you head to the Pokemon research lab with the pokemon to conduct some research on Mimikyu and her speech capabilities.

The walk doesn’t take long and recalling that people actively call you the Witch of Wedgehurst behind your back, it is uncomfortable to make eye contact with anyone along the way and you pull the hood over your head, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your garment and keep your head down.

Once you arrive, you unlock the door, head inside and meander to your work space.

As usual, your desk is rather dusty and your whiteboard is still in the same place where you had left it a while ago; the pictures of the missing gym challengers and the map of the Wild Area are still fastened over the surface.

Although you hesitate for a split second as you scrutinise their smiling faces, you quietly remove them and tidy the photos away in one of your drawers before you grab an eraser and scrub away your notes, bullet points and other various scribbles. Once the board is cleared, you use a black marker pen and on the newly cleaned space, write some letters of the alphabet on the whiteboard as large as you can and set up three chairs for the pokemon for your experiment.

Releasing them, Gengar and Mimikyu sit down whilst Runerigus hops up on the seat and his head almost hits one of the low-hanging lights which makes you grimace. Nevertheless, he clamps his hands together patiently and since he’s been under your care, he has been a rather docile pokemon despite living in a human skin slash hair portrait.

You glance at your pokemon one by one and smile. “Hi everyone, thanks for joining me today. We're not going to work on any cases for the time being so now that I have some downtime, I’d like to test your ability to speak. I’m aware Mimi can say a lot already, but I’d appreciate if everyone can join in.”

Everyone nods and you grab one of Magnolia’s wooden canes from the side, using it to tap the first letter which represents A.

“This is the letter ‘A’,” you pronounce it loud and clearly for them, “Mimi, I’d like you to go first. Repeat after me.”

“A,” says Mimi, with virtually no problem whatsoever.

“Good job,” you reply and Mimikyu giggles, wiggling two tendrils happily in the air.

Now it’s Gengar’s turn.

He struggles, clenching his teeth viciously before he grunts out, “Geng-ah.”

“Not bad. but try saying ‘ah’ first.”

”Ah-geng,” says Gengar, and Mimikyu lets out a snort of laughter.

“Runerigus?”

Everyone turns to the grudge pokemon next and Runerigus has been silent the entire time; however, you're amazed when he emits a rather high-pitched, grating shriek from somewhere.

“Screeeee……!!!”

You, Gengar and Mimikyu uncontrollably wince until he stops.

"Scree?"

“Interesting," you murmur under your breath, "And this is the letter ‘B’…Runerigus, do you want to have a go?"

“Screeeee……screeeee-eee-ee!!!” Runerigus shrieks wildly as he flaps his hands up and down. As though aware he is unable to properly pronounce, Runerigus blinks for a fraction for a second and tries again, “SCREEEEE!!!”

“Mi mi!!! Mi mi mi mimikyuu!” Mimikyu jumps up and down in her seat and rants heavily in response to Runerigus’ screeching, pointing her claws at him accusingly.

“Calm down, it’s not his fault,” you say, as tensions run high.

Poor thing, beads of sweat begin dotting the stone slab and so unfortunately, you agree he should stop.

It’s Gengar’s turn now, and he says, “Beng-ar.”

You take down notes in your journal, scribbling down how Runerigus has zero speech capabilities and Gengar can only say his species name with mild alterations despite possessing human teeth and a human tongue.

Mimikyu on the other hand, can pronounce the letters perfectly and proceeds to recite much of the alphabet with very little trouble. She tells you she learned some words when she watched TV whilst pretending to be some kid's toy. She smugly dances and happily twirls in her seat whilst Runerigus and Gengar are totally defeated and throws their limp gazes to the floor.

“Guys, it’s okay,” you try to cheer them up but they look at you sadly.

The pokemon are dejected despite your reassurance and a twang of guilt hits you in the gut until a gentle knock on the door captures your attention. Looking away from your unhappy pokemon, the door to the research lab squeaks open and a purple-haired young man enters the establishment with Charizard trailing after him.

You freeze on the spot and the atmosphere in the lab becomes intense in nanoseconds. Your heart jumps in your throat upon his arrival and he glances at his surroundings before his gaze lands on you as you stand limply by the whiteboard and once his golden eyes meets yours, you struggle with your breath as your cheeks grow warm, your gut clinching uncomfortably.

It's Leon.

He's here.

He's finally here.

You swallow down the growing lump in your throat as he carefully strides over with his hands behind his back.

He's in a new shirt. The muscles in his arms seem to bulge more than ever. His hair looks longer, more tame. Did he always smile at you like that? Did he always look at you like that? You are noticing these little things about him all of a sudden though you're unsure why.

“H-hi Leon,” you stutter out whilst you tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear that falls in front of your eyes, “What are you doing here?”

It’s happening. It’s happening all over again. The blushing, the stammering, the racing heart, the butterfrees dancing in the stomach. It shouldn't be happening, but it is.

And then you remember the almost-kiss.

As you fret on the spot, Leon says, “I-I came by the house but no-one came to the door so I...I thought I’d find you here.”

He's stammering too, his voice laced with nervousness.

It's not just you.

Leon anxiously steps closer, his light footsteps echoing audibly over the lab's pristine floor; he stops a short distance from you and shoots a quick glance at your pokemon in their little chairs in front of the whiteboard with all letters of the alphabet and chuckles, “What’s this? Pokemon School?”

“Um…Sort of. Mimi can speak human language so I wanted to test the others too...”

“That sounds interesting, how’s it going so far?”

“…S’okay,” is your timid reply as you clutch the cane to your chest with both hands and shift your gaze to the side.

He smiles warmly at you and as you dare to look up, your eyes meet for a second and simultaneously, you both look away. Whilst you hastily cast your glance to one of the bookshelves on the second floor, Leon throws his glimpse to a random potted plant in the corner.

Clearing his throat loudly, he stands with his hands gingerly placed behind his back. In fact, he’s been holding his hands behind his back the entire time. He appears to be puffing his chest out a little.

“I went to the hospital; I wanted to visit you but you weren’t there."

You nod. Your gazes meet but this time, you do your best not to look away and neither does he. “Yeah…I got discharged and Rotom couldn't get any signal until just there. Sorry.”

His expression lights up when he realises you do not look away and you witness him falter slightly on the spot under your piercing stare and he lets out a nervous-sounding laugh. "Ah, it's okay, there's no need to apologise. I took too long and couldn't find the time to go and see you. I should be the one apologising."

You shake your head.

There is another quiet moment between you two albeit not an uncomfortable one as you stand near one another, staring; Leon’s voice seems to have gone into hiding as you smile at him and his smile widens too before he murmurs, “I, uh…I wanted to give these to you."

He reveals his hands, slowly lifting them out and presenting a large bouquet of beautiful, multi-coloured flowers from behind his back.

Your eyes widen thoroughly; you were not expecting this at all.

Gengar gawks whilst Mimikyu blinks. Charizard wheezes and chortles and Runerigus flings glances between you and the Champion.

“Um, I….I hope you like them," he stutters, coughing into his fist briefly.

Leon has brought you flowers.

Choosing to lurk behind the plethora of florets, he does not see you gently reaching for the bouquet, and your fingers brush together accidentally; he stiffens all over as you wrap your hands firmly around the light pink cellophane wrapper before you gently lift it out of Leon’s grasp. He watches as your eyes sparkle with delight, the corner of your lips curling into a fond smile as you carefully run a finger over the petal of a delicate looking lilac flower.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmur softly, “Thank you, Leon.”

His confidence fully restored by your words, Leon grins widely and he takes a small step forwards; however, he's also quick to change his mind, clearing his throat once more and returning to his previous spot. With freed hands, he removes his cap and cradles it gingerly in front of his chest, his messy hair sticking in all sorts of directions.

“I’m sorry, I would do this better if I knew how.”

"Do what?”

“Courting you."

You blink wide-eyed as your gazes lock together once again before you decide to bring the bouquet closer to you, covering as much of your face as you can behind the flowers.

“I didn’t know what you liked so I asked the florist for help,” he admits as he hides his lower face behind his cap, cheeks growing red.

You’re both hiding behind whatever you can get your hands on.

And he’s blushing again, which you think is cute but so are you; your face is also heating up uncontrollably.

“T-thank you, that’s very thoughtful,” you reply with a shaky but excited lilt embedded into your voice, “do you want to stay? I can make some tea….”

Leon’s expression dampens at once.

“………I can’t,” he almost groans aloud, “I have a busy night ahead.”

“Oh, well…maybe another time then.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“S-sure.”

“No problem.”

"Perhaps...you'd like to go camping with me again?"

"I'd love to."

"Great!"

"Just let me know when you're free."

"O-of course."

Once again, a sea of silence blankets the two of you until Charizard taps Leon on the shoulder and snorts loudly, his snout emitting short puffs of air. He jerks his head towards the door, growling.

“Right, I’d best be off now…I’ll see you,” Leon mutters, and you nod.

“Bye, Leon.”

“Goodbye.”

Leon returns his cap over his head, adjusting it properly; he stares intently at you and an immense bloom of joy swells within your chest as you clutch the flowers to yourself. Swept up by the longing depth of his gaze, you hide your face behind the flowers once again. Your cheeks are so hot, even the petals feel warm. He’s only forced to stop looking at you when Charizard taps him on his shoulder once more, indicating that they need to return to their duties.

"Goodnight," he says, with a widening grin.

"Goodnight."

Reluctantly, Leon turns away. As he makes his way to the exit, he will occasionally turn round and smile at you and Charizard will wave and you wave back; the flame pokemon waddles after his trainer and you watch as they both leave the lab, but not before Leon subjects you to one last look over his shoulder.

You’re finally able to breathe normally when the door closes behind them and Gengar and Mimikyu titter loudly in their seats whilst Runerigus slams his rocky tail against the floor with glee.

“Class dismissed,” you utter, and the pokemon are free to do as they please as you glance down at the bouquet in your hands.

Smiling, you lean down and take a quick whiff.

They smell heavenly.

...

[monstersandmaw]

Embers - male dragon shifter x reader) Part Two (sfw)

(this is supposed to be going up every Friday, but I was a dumbo yesterday and forgot, so here it is, a day late and with my apologies!)

Here's Chapter Two for you, in which we find out our dragon shifter’s name (pronunciation at the end if you’re curious). And Frankie speaks with a heavy Welsh accent.

I was trying to keep each chapter to under 1000 words, but that didn't work out so well for this one. It's nearly 2000 words. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!

A phone call from a number you didn’t recognise interrupted your quiet Friday evening, and you answered with some trepidation. Usually it was marketing calls at this hour, and nothing was guaranteed to make you lose your shit quicker than someone phoning up to sell you double glazing or, even worse, to try and scam you out of your life savings.

This time, however, a bright and bubbly voice with a lilting accent asked, “Hiya, I hope I’m not calling at a bad time, but you gave my friend your number in the hopes of finding a flute teacher?”

“Oh my god!” you blurted, nearly dropping the phone. “Yes! I didn’t think he’d actually pass it on. Thanks for calling.”

The laugh that trilled out of the person on the other end was more like a bleating giggle, and it was then that you remembered that the teacher was a faun. “No problem! My name is Frankie, by the way, and I’ve actually got space to take on a new pupil at the moment. If I got it straight it’s your niece?”

“Yeah, she’s six.”

“Ok, if you could maybe tell me a bit about her and what level she’s at, that might help me plan a bit, but we could set up a trial lesson - free of charge - and go from there?”

“Perfect. As for her level, she’s brand new. She’s wanted to play the flute for a long time, but she’s only six and my brother couldn’t really afford lessons until now.” As a single father, a widower, your brother did his absolute best for his little girl, and with no kids of your own, you stepped in to help quite a lot. “She’s bright and a quick learner, though she’s not particularly verbal. She’s always been drawn to music though; I think it’s a half-siren thing…”

“Yeah, that’ll be it!” he chuckled. “As long as she’s going to listen to me, that’s a good place to start from; I don’t need her to recite the Trollbridge Common Dictionary as well. I teach up at Mikaeïl’s house - he lets me use the music room free of charge.”

You frowned in confusion. “Mikaeïl?”

“The red-headed, starched-shirt-wearing, giant nerd-bag you met in the coffee shop,” he grinned and you snorted your tea nearly out of your nose.

“Oh my god.”

“Right? I mean, Kaeïl is an absolute marshmallow on the inside, I promise, but he comes across as a complete arsehole, doesn’t he? Anyway, back to the flute lessons. You let me know some dates when she’ll be free to come over, I’ll give you the address, and we can see how we get along. Texting is better for me as I’m usually teaching during the day.”

“Sounds good,” you said, and began to arrange the rest with Frankie.

Afterwards you did a quick internet search and found him easily enough. He was apparently well known, both as a teacher and a soloist, and he and the quintet did a number of local concerts too. You couldn’t resist zooming in on a few photos which also had Mikaeïl in. God, he had amazing bone structure, but he definitely had one severe case of resting bitch-face for sure. He wasn’t smiling in any of the photos and he looked severe, and untouchable as a hot coal.

Satisfied that Frankie was the genuine article, you called your brother and fixed a date to take her to the address Frankie had given you.

The next Friday, you picked Celia up from school while her dad took the night shift at work. The hours weren’t great, but it meant he got slightly better pay. Plus it meant that you got to have Celia for the night, and that was always fun. She was intelligent and creative, if quiet, and after dinner the two of you usually watched a film together or read if she didn’t feel like watching anything. You knew she missed her siren mother dearly, and her death had almost destroyed your brother. You and he were all the family she had now; her own grandparents had wanted nothing to do with a half-breed human.

You found Mikaeïl’s place easily enough, and as the enormous gates swung open for you, drove your rather shoddy car along the mile-long gravel driveway through gorgeous parkland and up to a frankly ridiculous mansion on the outskirts of Old Trollbridge. You barely restrained yourself from cursing out loud. The place was insanely beautiful.

Celia had her hands pressed up against the car windows, mouth open. “My teacher lives here?” she asked.

“It’s the house of his friend,” you said, trying to sound unfazed and unaffected by the grandeur. Mikaeïl must be a very wealthy person indeed.

You parked up outside and Celia hopped out, piercing eyes gazing up at the warm, sandstone facade of the building with its many sash windows and ornate architectural details. Her dusky brown wings - small for a siren her age, but then again she was only half-siren - were flexed slightly, as though she planned on flapping up to get a closer look at the carvings above the door, but you took her hand before the thought got any further, and led her to the front door, her brand new flute in your other hand.

It took a while for someone to come to the door, but when it was answered, you were surprised to find that it wasn’t some servant or butler in fancy livery, but it was Mikaeïl himself. You recognised him instantly, and he looked at you from behind his circular, gold-rimmed glasses with the same, piercing gold eyes. Despite the colour, they were cold and unsmiling. Beside him, in complete contrast in every way, stood a very short, slightly stocky figure with the white, woolly lower half of a satyr. He wore a thick, dark green, knitted jumper despite the warmth of the day, and he had massively thick, curling horns that coiled around his ovine ears. His curly hair was cut relatively short, and matched his white legs in colour.

He extended a hand to you as Mikaeïl stepped back silently and disappeared into the shadows, and he bleated, “Hi! I’m Frankie. And you must be Celia,” he added, turning his dark eyes to her. “Nice to meet you. Would you like to come in?”

She nodded shyly, and you ushered her inside in front of you. Frankie’s big cloven hooves clopped loudly on the marble entrance hall, and Celia gasped as she took in the beautiful, sweeping staircase that curled up the cylindrical walls of the drum-like entrance hall that was capped with a coffered dome.

“It’s quite something, isn't it?” Frankie said conspiratorially to her, and she nodded again. “Come on, let me show you guys the music room. It’s got the loveliest piano. This way.”

Mikaeïl had all but vanished.

Nattering constantly, Frankie led you away down a light, airy corridor with gold and cream silk wall hangings and 18th century landscape paintings on one side and a gallery of windows overlooking the gravel driveway on the other, and into an equally beautiful space. Somehow, despite the obvious wealth, the music room was tasteful and bizarrely modest. Yes, that was an original Steinway, and yes, there was a crystal chandelier - relatively small, but still - in the centre of the moulded-plaster ceiling, but the huge windows looked out onto a private terrace and parkland beyond, and it had the feeling of a well-used, well-loved, functional room.

Celia was utterly entranced. Her wide eyes took it all in and you stood there dumbstruck as well.

Eventually, however, you both got over it, and Frankie brought over a very ordinary, metal music stand and parked his behind on the piano stool with a grunt. “Right,” he grinned and she giggled slightly. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He pulled out his own flute from its case and showed her how to align the sections of her own correctly.

You sat at one side of the room, but you realised quickly that Celia kept looking over to you before she spoke, so you said, “Celia, I think you might learn better if I wait outside. How would that be?”

She nodded and you knew her well enough to see that she wasn’t worried, and Frankie shot you a smile and a nod. “We’ll be about another half an hour,” he said quietly.

With that, you left, and wandered up the corridor and back into the entrance hall.

You took your time in the corridor, admiring the paintings, and you were just looking up at the ceiling of the entrance hall again, marvelling at the artistry of the whole thing, when someone cleared their throat pointedly from the doorway to your left and you jumped.

“Can I help you?”

It was Mikaeïl. He was dressed in a smart shirt, with a black waistcoat and black trousers today, and his long red hair was tied back in a smooth ponytail that fell halfway down his back. His horns glinted in the low light, looking more like strangely-carved precious gems, flecked with gold, than keratin, and his eyes reflected oddly, like cat’s eyes in the dark.

“I…” you faltered. “I thought it best if I left them to it…” you said stupidly. He seemed to have the effect of draining your IQ to zero with just one look.

“So you took the liberty of roaming the halls of my home instead?” he said in a cold drawl.

“I… I’m not poking around,” you countered hotly, finding your words coming back to you. “I’ve only walked along the corridor!”

A tiny smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Would you like something to drink?”

His polite question caught you off guard, and you gave him a blank look. “I thought you were going to have your gamekeeper shoot me for trespassing…” you said dryly.

Mikaeïl barked a harsh but amused laugh, the rigid lines of his body softening just a fraction. “Not yet at least,” he said and turned his back on you.

Assuming you were meant to follow, you did. 

Part Three

—

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It’s pronounced ‘mick-eye-ill’ :)

[orangeoctopi7]

Everyone Loves an Underdog

: Chapter 1 : Chapter 2 : Chapter 3 : Chapter 4 :

The brothers were eternally grateful that Stan had his own car, so they didn’t have to endure a painfully awkward drive with Filbrick to the gym where the boxing match would be held. Their father took his own Oldsmobile.

“Uh, is the gym on the corner of Beach and Poplar, or Beach and Poppy?” Stan asked as they stopped at an intersection.

“I don’t know, you spent far more time there than I did.” Ford shrugged. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember how to get there?”

“It’s been over forty years and last summer I got my memory erased, cut me some slack, Sixer!”

“Ok, ok, relax! You know it’s off of Beach Street, right? So we just need to find Beach and drive up and down it until we find the right building.”

“Right. I can do that.” Stan assured himself.

They only had to turn around once before they found the gym. Luckily, there were plenty of cars parked outside signalling they had found the correct building. There were obviously some highly anticipated matches tonight. Stan doubted most of them were here for him, though. A three-round match between a couple of minors was hardly the kind of stuff people were clamoring to see. 

“Did you two get lost on the way here?” Filbrick asked sarcastically.

“What? Hah, no!” Stan denied. “Ford thought he saw a UFO, we went a different route to see if we could get a better look at it.”

Ford rolled his eyes. Sure, throw me under the bus.

“You two need to stop wastin’ your time with that crap.” Filbrick grunted. “Now go get warmed up, or you’re gonna hurt yourself out there.”

“Good luck!” Ford told Stan as he made his way to the locker room.

“What, like I need it?” Stan called back.

Stanford followed his father into the stands, where they took a seat in the front row. A few spots had been reserved for the fighters’ family members and coaches.

“Hey there, Fil!” Stan’s coach said as he took a seat next to them. “Your Stanley sure likes to cut it close, doesn’t he? I mean, I know he’s more than a match for the Crampelter kid, but you’d think he’d give himself more than five minutes to warm up!”

“Yeah, he was busy goofin’ off with his brother here.” Filbrick inclined his head towards Ford.

“Oh, is that Stanford?” The coach asked sarcastically. “Yeah, I didn’t recognize you, it’s been so long.”

Ford rolled his eyes. It hadn’t even been a year, and he would have quit sooner if his father hadn’t been so insistent that it was “teaching important life skills”. The teen had only been able to convince his father to let him quit when he brought home brochures explaining that State Science Fair winners often won scholarships.

“What’s it been, five months since you quit? I thought you traded in your boxing gloves for a lab coat and test tubes?”

“I’m just here to support Stanley.” Ford answered stiffly. 

“Sure, sure.” The coach turned his attention back to Filbrick. “Y’know, Fil, you’re a lucky guy. You got two very talented sons. One’s got all the brains, the other’s got all the brawn! Makes me wonder what’s left for the third one!”

The two men chuckled over the joke.

“Yeah, I would be lucky, if either of ‘em had the sense to put all that talent into something useful!” Filbrick replied. “Instead Stanley wastes all his winnings on that fancy car of his, and Stanford’s got his head in the clouds, dreamin’ about UFO’s and monsters. And they both waste all their time tinkerin’ with that old wreck they found on the beach. It was cute when they were little, but they’re both about to graduate from highschool! It’s high-time they grew out of it!”

“I’m right here.” Ford hissed.

“...What was that?” Filbrick asked, although it was clear he knew exactly what his son had just said.

“I’m sitting right here! I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking about me as if I wasn’t!”

The two older men stared at the teen for a moment, their shock apparent even in the dim light of the stands. 

“Finally standin’ up to your old man, eh?” Filbrick finally said. “Maybe you learned something here after all.”

The coach and Filbrick moved on to talking about the other matches that were taking place that night, leaving Ford to steam silently to himself.

I still have to live with him for at least another day. I’ll just have to bite my tongue until the Time Tape is fixed. Then I can say whatever I like to his gravestone.

* * *

By the time Stan got changed into his boxing gear, he didn’t have a lot of time to warm up. But he was a limber, 17-year-old kid. If he could take on a horde of zombies without warning at the age of 63, he could go a few rounds with Crampelter after only five minutes of warm up.

It felt like significantly less than five minutes when the bell rang that signaled it was his turn in the ring. He took one last swig of water from the fountain, popped in his mouth guard, and walked out the door into the waiting crowd. His coach was waiting for him at the ropes. And just behind the coach, in the front row, were Ford and Filbrick. Stan tried to smile at his brother through the mouthguard. Ford chuckled and smiled back.

“Ladies and gentlemen, introducing our junior heavyweight match of the night!” the announcer called as the fighters entered the ring. “In the blue corner, weighing in at 254 pounds and six feet, seven inches tall, Dalton Crampelter!” There was a smattering of polite applause before the announcer continued “And in the red corner, weighing in at 210 pounds and 6 feet and an inch tall, Stanley Pines!” The crowd cheered. This may not have been the main event of the night, but people loved to see a little guy take on a big guy, even if Stan hardly qualified as a little guy in normal circumstances.

Crampelter glowered down at Stan as they both stepped to the center of the ring.

“Yhr hoing doon, Mines!” Ever the bully, Crampelter always had to get a taunt in, no matter how stupid he sounded trying to talk through his mouthguard. Stan just rolled his eyes and smirked.

The referee approached them, looking completely exasperated. He’d worked here since before these two rivals first started boxing lessons, and he knew their history. “Alright you two, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Don’t make me pull you blockheads appart. At least try to beat each other up within the established rules. I’ve lectured you both on them so many times, I shouldn’t need to repeat them again.”

"I hon't if he hon't." Stan mumbled.

Crampelter just sneered.

 The ref stepped back and held up his hands. The bell rang, and the match started.

Stan made a jab for Crampelter right away. The bully had been expecting it, and blocked. They continued to exchange jabs for a few seconds, neither penetrating the other’s defenses, until Stan successfully faked Crampelter out, twitching his left hand down and popping the bully in his right temple the moment his guard was down. The ref blew the whistle.

“Hard blow to the head, point red!”

The two contestants stepped back. Stan could hear cheers from Ford and his coach behind him. He could also hear Crampelter’s coach yelling obscenities from across the ring.

They squared up again and the bell for the second round rang. This time, Crampelter came out swinging. Stan blocked the blow, but there was so much force behind it, it sent a jolt of pain through his arm. That’s gonna bruise in the morning. He had to take a step back to keep his footing, and Crampelter took advantage of the momentary loss of balance to drive another punch in, this time aiming for Stan’s gut. He turned his body just in time to dodge the brunt of the attack, but the glancing blow to his ribs still hurt. 

Now Stan knew it was time to get serious. He feigned a trip, and when the bully tried to push him over, he surged forward and landed an uppercut to Crampelter’s jaw. The bully gave an enraged snort, and grabbed Stan’s offending arm. Crampelter shifted his weight forward, fully intending to push Stan down to the mat, as though this was a wrestling match, and squash him. 

So you wanna fight dirty, huh? Alright then.

Stan pushed back against Crampelter for about a second before reversing directions without warning. He pulled the bully down with him and extracted his arm, rolling out of the way at the last second, so that his opponent landed hard on his shoulder. 

The ref blew his whistle again, and stepped forward to separate the two fighters. “Well, at least we got one round where you both fought fair.” he sighed. “Disqualified round due to illegal moves. No points!” The crowd cheered. They didn’t care if it was illegal, they were getting quite the show.

Stan and Crampelter were both breathing hard by the start of the third round. Stan’s right arm was throbbing where he’d blocked that harsh blow earlier, and he could tell from Crampelter’s stance that the bully’s shoulder was hurting him where he’d landed. 

Let’s hope I can end this in the next round.

Both competitors rushed forward at the bell. Stan got a solid jab in at the sternum, but Crampelter was more concerned with his footwork. The bully stomped down hard on Stan’s right foot.

“Yah cheatin’ fonofah--” Stan mumbled through his mouthguard. He kneed his opponent in the shin, but that only seemed to make Crampelter mad. The hulking teen bodychecked Stan, glomming onto his head. 

Stan tensed up. He’d fought government agents and South American drug gangs and angry bikers. He knew how to come out on top in an unfair fight. He headbutted Crampelter, gaining himself a little bit of room as the bully reeled back from the blow. 

“Lef’ hook!” Stan shouted as soon as his arm had room to maneuver. His fist collided with Crampelter’s nose, making a satisfying crack. 

The whistle blew for the final time. “Match point due to injury, victory red! Can we get a medic up here to set Crampelter’s nose?”

Stan spit out his mouthguard and grinned down at his family. He climbed down from the ring to the sound of applause. 

“Great match, kid!” His coach greeted him. “I mean, as your coach, I kinda have to tell you to not fight dirty like that, but hey, he started it, right? And you still came out on top!”

“Congratulations, Stanley.” Ford was at his side in a second, looking him over with concern. “But how’s your arm? It looked pretty bad from where I was sitting.”

“Don’t worry so much, Poindexter, I’m fine.” Stan assured him.

Filbrick simply gave a small nod of approval. “Good to see you can beat an overgrown gorilla boy.”

Stan gulped involuntarily. “Uh… thanks, dad.” He said with a forced grin. “Welp, we’re gonna head home!”

“Head home? But Somners and Epstein are fighting next!” The coach protested.

“Oh, uh, yeah, but, heh, my arm’s really been through the wringer tonight. I gotta get it patched up, y’know.”

“They got plenty of ice at the concessions stand.” Filbrick grunted. “Y’can’t go runnin’ home to ma to get coddled every time you have a rough match. Gettin’ hurt is part of the game, son.”

That was something Stan knew all too well. In the time between getting kicked out and moving to Gravity Falls, he’d occasionally take up prize fighting to earn a little extra money. He could never keep it up for long though. It was too rough on the body, especially when they paid you to take a fall, and the other guy thought the only way to “make it look convincing” was to actually beat the snot out of you. And of course, no matter how much they offered to pay him, it never seemed to be enough to cover a trip to the hospital.

“Well, I need to go home and work on my science fair project.” Ford interjected.

“Tough luck, you should’ve thought of that before you came out here tonight, Knucklehead.” Filbrick said caustically. 

Stan stared at his father like a deer in the headlights. I got my own car, we can go home if we want! He wanted to say it, but for some reason, his insides froze and his mouth glued shut in the face of his dad’s disapproval.

Ford put an arm around his shoulder. “Fine then. Let’s go get you some ice, Stan.”

The brothers made a beeline for the concessions stand, but once they got a bag of ice for Stan’s arm, Ford started pulling him towards the exit.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“But dad said--”

“Oh please, he probably won’t even notice for another round or two. And then what’s he going to do?”

“Probably ground us when he gets home.” Stan guessed. “Shout so loud the neighbors knock on the wall again.”

“Grounding will hardly matter once the Time Tape is fixed.”

“I mean, our past selves will still have to deal with it.”

“We were grounded plenty of times in the past. Once more won’t hurt.”

Stan climbed into his car and tried to figure out how he could hold the ice pack to his arm and still properly grasp the steering wheel.

“Perhaps I should drive.” Ford suggested.

Stan grit his teeth for a moment before finally sighing and trading spots with his brother. “Just don’t drive her like one of your crazy spaceships.”

“That would be impossible. Cars don’t have pitch or roll.”

“Yeah, let’s keep it that way.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, until Stan winced as his arm gave a particularly painful throb.

“How’s your arm?” Ford asked in concern.

“Hurts more than I remember.” Stan admitted. “Course, I’ve had worse. Well, probably not by this point in my life, but I will have worse.” he rolled his eyes. “Yeesh, time travel is confusing.”

“Yes, the sooner we can get back to 2013, the better.” Ford agreed. “I don’t know how much longer I can take living with dad. I’ve already come dangerously close to snapping at him twice.”

“Yeah, same here. Not the snapping part, funny enough, but I really don’t think I can take much more of him.” Stan adjusted the ice bag on his arm. “Is there anything I can do to help speed that along?”

“Hmmm… you could finish filing off the points on the circuitry while I open up the original Time Tape’s casing and remove the burnt-out circuitry. Just be careful, it’s very fine detail work.”

“Sure. Anything to get back to our own time quicker. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see ma again, but…”

“Can’t say the same for dad and everyone else?”

“Yeah.”

Their mother was waiting for them when they arrived home, having already put Shermie to bed for the night.

“Oh, baby, what happened?” She asked when she saw the half-melted ice bag Stan was holding to his right arm.

“Heh, you should see the other guy!” He joked.

“I suppose that means you won your match?” 

“Yeah. Probably for the best you didn’t come, mom, it was a bloody one.”

“Only when you broke Crampelter’s nose.” Ford amended with a snicker.

“Well, what happened to your arm?”

“Heh, I blocked a punch that felt like the giant put all of his weight into.” Stan explained. “Then in the next round, when I popped him with an uppercut, he grabbed the same arm and tried to push me down. I had to twist it around a lot to get out of there, and I think that made the bruising worse.”

Caryn heaved a beleaguered sigh. “I don’t know why you keep on fighting in these boxing matches. You’re gonna get yourself really hurt one of these days!”

Stan shrugged. “It’s fun. And it’s good money. I’ll be able to pay off my parking ticket now.”

“Well, there’s that at least.” She turned to Ford. “And Stanford, honey, did you have fun?”

“Er… fun isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.” Ford grimaced. “But I am glad I went.”

“Oh good. And lemme guess. Your father stayed to watch the other matches tonight?”

“Yeah.” The boys answered in unison.

Their mother rolled her eyes. “Guess I’d better wait up for him too.” She switched on the TV and sat on the couch.

[everythingoesnk]

Good man

summary; you’re an angel (literally an angel) and the world needs you. what for? to babysit mclennon. spoiler: you cannot resist john.

word count; 3 248

disclaimers; i’m SO proud of this but give me feedback lol you just can’t imagine how much it helps and motivates to keep writing

warnings; cannot think of one.

********

Too many of yours had been killed. Many others were still held in custody, tortured for the sole purpose of unleashing a war your community had been avoiding.

The smartest decision would’ve been to end the nonsense and face the enemy head-on, but again, you were angels. Dialogue always came first.

You learned the lesson.

This last year you’d been training and developing physical skills that initially don’t belong to your committee. What you didn’t know was the irrefutable decision the Parliament imposed in one of their meetings that they later would communicate to the nation: put into practice, only if necessary, the fighting tactics that you acquired. Not here, but on Earth. Long story short, become guardians. A large number of people understand that as angels that’s what you are. They’re not wrong, in a way.

On a final note, the Parliament concluded that its best pupils would descend to protect humans from the vehemence of the Evil.

Each angel has two people assigned.

Yours are Paul McCartney and John Lennon.

//

18th of June 1967, 15:18 pm

“Today marks six months since we met, and on top of that, it’s my birthday. Have you bought me anything?” Paul inquired from the sofa, straightening his neck to get a better view of your face.

It was difficult with you staring out the window, scanning every inch of the street and skyline, never turning to show any interest in what he was saying.

Dropping his head backwards, he added quietly, “And nothing happened”

“Is that disappointment in your tone?” you asked impassively, still not turning.

“Disappointment is not the word”

“What’s the word then?”

Your eyes travelled to a different point. No longer on the clouds that ventured the signs of a storm but on your partner and one of the other three funky insects.

Matt was near the metal gate, keeping an eye on the vicinities and probably rolling his eyes at the fans’ screeches coming from behind the entry, crying for any sort of interaction with their idols.

Not far from there John was sitting on the hood of his car.

Something must have told him he was being watched because he put down the hand with the cigarette and looked up to the same window you were at almost instantly.

An uneasy feeling that you couldn’t quite describe expanded around your heart after his inquisitive stare settled on you.

Flustered, you looked coyly to the left and right, because maybe Paul shifted to your side and you didn’t notice.

That got a small laugh from John.

Paul wasn’t in the room anymore but on the bathroom taking a pee, you could hear him. Regaining your usual erect composure, your brows pinched in a frown.

John got off the hood and put out the cigarette on the sole of his shoe before heading towards the building, looking in your direction once more with hands in his pockets and a sinful smirk tickling his lips.

“No,” you told Paul, observing John until he couldn’t be seen no more.

He shot you a confused glance as he finished pulling up the zipper.

“Babe, be more specific”

“I didn’t buy you anything” you concretized, facing him, “but I’m here to save your life in case you need to be saved. And if the moment comes I will, I’m a good warrior”

Paul blushed. He flapped his hand at you.

“It was a joke”

“I hope you were joking too about ‘nothing’ happening. You should be grateful you weren’t in any danger just yet”

You swore you could boil an egg in his face.

//

18th June 1967, 15:39 pm

“We’ll be back before dinner” Matt informed, putting on a jacket.

“Do the wings break through the clothes when you… invoke them?” Ringo asked.

George and John didn’t make any witty remarks, wondering the same secretly.

You and Matt exchanged looks. He shrugged and you thought it wasn’t worth your time answering.

“We do not invoke them. They appear when we need them”

Ringo kept asking questions but you didn’t focus on them, after all he was Matt’s responsibility. He was taking them –George and Ringo– to pay a visit to their wives. Matt missed driving so they didn’t mind him taking the wheel.

In Paul’s case it was Linda and her guardian who dropped by every now and then.

Due to the first impression of them, you thought Paul and John would be more demanding, however, they didn’t bother you and mostly stuck to doing their own thing.

Paul was taking a nap in the room next door; John’s whereabouts were unknown. You had to find him for his safety.

Gliding down the corridor you bumped into him.

You folded your arms across the chest.

“Where were you?”

“A fan dodged security and was waiting for me in the lobby. We talked for a bit and snapped a picture”

“For the thousandth time,” you groaned, annoyance streaming through your body like lava, “do not speak to anyone if I’m not around! Why do you keep disobeying my instructions?”

“She looked regular” he justified.

You looked at him as you might a cockroach.

“Demons disguise themselves accurately to fool jerks like you” you spat out.

Pulling a theatrical painful face, he brought a hand down to hold on to his dick and testicles, simulating that your words kicked him just there.

“Lennon, do not make it harder than it needs to be. I didn’t choose to have to follow you around like a puppy”

“Alright, can you take a moment to try and understand how overwhelming the situation is for us as well?” he argued, putting on hold his reckless demeanour.

Rubbing your eyes you sighed, “Yes, I can, but—”

“Forgive me”

“I forgive you, but don’t do it again”

A tender grin formed on his face, content that you didn’t put up much of a fight.

“Before I got interrupted I was actually on my way to get you. I wanna show you something”

You rolled your eyes. He’s so random.

Back in the room, he went straight to the piano. After tuning it his eyes wandered to the empty space he had next to him on the bench, waiting for you to take it.

Your expression switched from curious to stupefied.

Following his command you sat down.

Your gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips and from lips to his fingers. He played so carefully and delicately in the beginning, introducing the prologue of his piece, that you lost yourself somewhere in the middle of it. Recalling the day you entered Heaven you shivered.

Music filled the air, hijacking every part of your mind.

The melody began to change, more macabre and haunting. It reminded you of everything beginning to fall apart, when the enemy showed no mercy and without guilt slayed the innocent.

You weren’t aware of how you were digging your fingernails in his leg, the shrieks of the victims ringing in your ear.

John stopped playing, placed his hand on top of yours and clasped it firmly, looking concerned.

You shook your head and instead walked away, needing space.

John squared his shoulders as he took a deep breath and sauntered up to you. Brows together, you shrank back.

“I didn’t want to upset you,” he said, respecting the distance.

You remained quiet, head buzzing.

He squinted at you and tilted his head.

“Talking about it might help you”

“Have you taken it on yourself to be my personal psychologist?”

He held your gaze. It was the pain talking, not you. He knew and he was going to be patient.

“It’s not your fault this is happening. Any of this”

“Stop”

“You need to hear it. You have this vast weight on your shoulders—”

“I could’ve done something!” you hollered, saturated with the remorse you’d been accumulating. You knew you weren’t responsible for the cataclysm. He didn’t… he didn’t understand. “Those monsters killed them in front of me! Marta, Norman, Charlie! I can still feel how my body jarred after witnessing every stab and poisoned bite. Blood was gushing out of their mouths and I did nothing!”

The image of you petifried watching them die and not being able to help repulsed you.

How could you have been so cruel?

John held his breath. That was what was torturing you.

“You aren’t responsible for their deaths”

“Aren’t I?” you fumed, the void in the middle of your heart widening. “You know nothing”

The bitterness in your voice made his nostrils flare.

Through his bones echoed the determination to cure your scars. However, he understood it wasn’t his job to heal you.

“And I’ll never get to apologize”

You could sense John’s question without him actually asking.

“Demons get to exist thanks to the souls they rip from their owners. The bodies vanished after that” you explained, feeling dizzy.

Throat dry, you brought a hand to your forehead.

Beneath your typical mask of coldness never would have John imagined you were battling against yourself.

It brought him back to when he felt like he could have prevented his mum from leaving the house, saving her life. He was seventeen. Seventeen, not three or four. He could have warned her about the insanity of driving under those conditions. The wind was brutal that day, and it rained cats and dogs. Instead, he kissed her cheek good-bye and went to his room.

He blamed himself too at first. It was a long and tormenting process, but he comprehended he wasn’t guilty. You’d get to that point eventually, he thought, you’d have only gotten yourself killed too if you’d have intervened.

The breeze that came through the window dried your tears and moved the hair away from your notable cheekbones. He attempted to reach out to you for the second time. You just stared at him, biting your quivering lower lip. He stood before you, eyes boring into your mournful ones.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you slowly against him. You sobbed into his chest as you snuggled closer for shelter.

John pressed his cheek onto the top of your head.

“It’s not your fault” he repeated, emotion palpable in his tone.

It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault.

//

2nd of February 1968, 12:13 pm

Matt dug his elbow into your ribs.

“He fell for you,” he said with a huge smirk, and imitated your pose: hands laced behind the back, eyes closed and body toward the sun taking in its pleasant rays.

“Shouldn’t have” you muttered after a pause, forcing the letters out of your mouth.

“That card you keep playing of apathy is ridiculous”

“I’m not playing any apathy card”

“Pretending you have no feelings for John won’t make it easier tomorrow”

You blinked and turned to him. He opened his and fixed them on you.

“I’m simply prioritizing other things”

“What other things are those?”

He knew already.

He knew that the things you just claimed to prioritize over your damn feelings were nonexistent. Like always, he was right. You didn’t want to triple the suffering that implied separating from John by confessing.

War was over. Angels defeated the beasts and freed themselves and humanity; home awaited your kind.

“My dear (Y/N),” Matt laughed dreamily, “you have all the time in the world to wait for him. Find out if he will still love you then”

//

3th of February 1968, 18:21 pm

John lost track of the number of times he rehearsed the torrent of words he planned on telling you.

He raised his hand and put it in a fist. Up in the air, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to knock on the door. Explicit terms and a deep groan escaped his lips. He dropped it and inhaled deeply, heart pounding frantically.

When he thought he was ready to finally do it Paul emerged from the closest corner, sprinted and knocked four times, running afterwards to the room that George and Ringo shared before John could catch him. And he did try.

“Ay! You want a fuckin’ hole in your face, you punk?!” he banged on their door, getting angrier with their laughs.

He almost lost it when Ringo hummed ‘With A Little Help From My Friends’.

Nonplussed, you crossed your arms and stood watching John from your spot after opening the door.

Just like before, his sensor did not fail him. He stopped his actions shortly and whirled around. Reddening abruptly, for a second he was sure his face was on fire.

You cleared your throat.

“Well?”

Cautiously, his brain stuttering, he glided the necessary steps to be in front of you.

He opened his mouth but didn’t get to say anything because Matt appeared from behind you.

“Who is—”

Immediately after seeing John his eyes widened.

“Oh God! I’m sorry! Were you- Oh my God, I’m sorry! Shit, go on” he gasped, and literally hurried inside.

That only aggravated the layer of crimson sprayed in John’s complexion.

You wanted to laugh but didn’t, obviously he was there to make the first move. You flashed him a small smile for support. He smiled at you too in return.

“Follow me”

Imperceptible in his voice, he succeeded in hiding elsewhere he feared rejection.

You raised an eyebrow teasingly. He frowned then chuckled in realization.

“Please?”

You giggled, which sounded way too girly for your liking, and took his hand in yours.

John led the way to the rooftop of the hotel.

Garlands of white and pink roses decorated the space, and since the sun was setting, you got to see how the orangy golden lights ghosted over John’s skin which made him look not handsome but celestial. At the distance, a trail of a plain crossed the horizon. You admired the view for a few more seconds and then drifted your eyes back to him.

The kindness and love reflected in his felt as warm as a kiss on the forehead of your favourite person in the world.

“I have to be quick, you don’t have much time”

He wasn’t wrong. You had to leave soon.

“Here, take this” he handed you a paper folded in half. “Open it when you’re there”

You averted the gaze towards the sheet and nodded. His eyes desperately searched yours again. Every second counted.

“I love you” he blurted out, a bizarre combination of panic and hope evident on his face. Like a child who just confessed that he broke granny’s vase, praying not to be grounded. “And I really, really want to kiss you”

The longing in his request melted your heart.

When you were about to let him know that you wanted it too you felt it in your back. You felt the muscles pulling the skin, pushing to make their way through to the outside.

One moment they weren’t there the other your wings were now displayed broadly for him to see.

They raised themselves, ready for departure.

John’s mouth fell open.

Unable to stop staring at their grandiosity and splendour, heartbeat wildly pumping, he ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he said breathlessly.

With tears in your eyes, you cupped his head in your hands and laid your mouth on his mouth without prior notice.

In that very instant, right there, the world stopped spinning.

He moved his silky wet lips against yours, pressing you further in until there was no space in between when the saltiness of your teardrops mixed with the saliva.

Your wings started aching awfully by now, and you knew what that meant.

Not wanting to, you pulled back from the kiss, lips burning.

“No” he purred, holding you in place, fingers gripping so tight around your upper arms that the skin beneath them turned white.

“John, it’s time”

Brokenhearted, you withdrew fully after rubbing your noses in an affectionate eskimo kiss.

You nudged intimately his chin up with your thumb.

John didn’t want to miss the opportunity to absorb your dazzling beauty thus he forced his eyes open.

“Part of my heart will stay with you. Remain a good man, Lennon, and return it to me. I trust that we’ll meet again in due course”

3th February 1968, 23:33 pm

Excitement throbbed in you. Seating cross-legged, you created walls with your wings to avoid snoopers and unfolded the paper.

It was a piano score. At the bottom of it, written in his handwriting, was a small note:

“I changed the ending. Now it’s about finding peace and picking up your broken bits to build a stronger armour. You’re a fierce woman, (Y/N), but whenever that feeling tightens and saddens your heart, play this”

Tangled in a mix of joy and sorrow, you half smiled as a tear rolled down your cheek and chin, landing in John’s signature.

//

8th December 1980, 22:50 pm

Everyone fell silent.

You noticed that all of your fellow companions and friends had their gazes bonded to the same spot. Slowly, you turned to check what they were looking at, and you nearly passed out.

He rarely visited. Only when he had good reasons to.

Gait steady, knowing very well what he was doing, he gave a quick look around as he paced.

His eyes found you.

Saint Peter offered you a reassuring smile, causing everyone to snap their heads at you.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)”

You swallowed.

“Y-yes?” you sputtered.

“I believe you’ll want to see this”

Uncertain, you joined him, not before sending Matt a doubtful look.

In any case, all your questions were answered when you reached the Gates and saw who was waiting for you. His wings were even more impressive, glittering and elegant than anyone else’s.

He was touching their feathers, inspecting them.

You ran to embrace him. Off guard as you took him, his arms were trapped under yours, preventing him from being able to hug you back.

“You shouldn’t be here. What happened, John?” you said, a million thoughts rushing through your mind.

“(Y/N)…” Saint Peter warned.

Under no circumstances it was allowed to ask for the reason behind someone’s death nor tell yours. It was the rules; the subject was forbidden.

You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

Taking a couple of steps back, you looked up to him. John bored his eyes into yours, lips stretching into a dainty smile.

“Hello, love. I took great care of the piece of your heart that you borrowed me” he said, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. “The time has come, I can give it back”

“It was for you, dummy” you answered with a laugh, voice cracking.

He dropped his head shyly to the floor, smile growing larger.

You followed where his eyes were pointing at, only to see his bare toes scrunching into the delicacy and softness of the cloud, getting familiar with it.

“I’m sorry you’re here” you whispered, honestly horrified that he didn’t get the chance to grow old.

“I was never scared of dying,” he spoke, slowly raising his head, “because I knew I’d be with you”

Staring at each other, none spoke for a moment.

“I love you too, by the way,” you admitted, pink arising in your cheeks. “I realized after I left that I didn’t say it back”

John smirked. He caressed your face and you felt the butterflies in your tummy flutter.

Love danced in the brightness of his eyes.

“Show me Heaven, (Y/N)”

[bellemorte180]

Just Good Business: Chapter Two

Caroline Salvatore, married into one of New York's most brutal crime families.

Niklaus Mikaelson, a notorious mob boss who is hell bent on taking down the Slavatores.

It's an affair for the ages.

WARNING: Incidents of domestic abuse are shown in this chapter.

Chapter Two: 

Six Months Later

At first, Caroline intended her tryst with Klaus to be a one off. It wasn’t. Within the months that followed, it became a habit. It started slow. It was over two weeks before Caroline learned anything of use for Klaus. She overheard a conversation between Damon and Stefan. They would be receiving a shipment of drugs coming down at the docks. Logan Fell, one of Damon’s henchmen was to receive them. Caroline told Enzo to set a meet. He drove an expensive French boutique that she often frequented, dropped her off and a few minutes later, she walked back out, getting into a different car.

Logan Fell’s throat was slit and the drugs stolen; causing a massive financial loss for both Damon and Stefan.

Damon and Stefan would, in return, strike back but Klaus was harder to reach. There were a few petty things here and there that Klaus would allow to happen, giving Stefan and Damon the feeling of power, but nothing major. Klaus had an iron wall built around him mixed with layers of corruption that it was difficult or anyone to get past. It had taken the brothers nearly a year to plan Kol’s death; then it had taken Jeremy close to another year to scope out Kol’s patterns and movements in order to take him down. Klaus was far more careful than his reckless younger brother was. Now, he had Caroline who was able to tell Klaus everything she knew. What surprised Caroline was how much she actually did know. She saw everything and because both Stefan and Damon wrote her off as useless, they said far too much in her presence.

And thus, began their pattern. They would meet whenever Caroline had something to report. Not always, but most times their meetings would end up in sex. Eventually, their relationship developed into a full-blown affair. There where time that Caroline went to him, without anything to report but for the sole purpose of feeling him between her legs. She would leave right after. Until she didn’t. Slowly, she started lingering behind or Klaus asked her to stay longer. They started talking as her head rested on his chest and he played with her hair.

He spoke of his childhood and how he got to this point in his life. He spoke of his father and how he learned he was the product of his mother’s affair; something that still ate at him to this day. He described how he took his own father’s life and how that was his first kill. He told her about Kol’s death, sending Rebekah out of state, leaving only Elijah and Klaus behind.

She told him about how happy she was before her marriage. She told him how her father left them when she was young and died when she was a teenager. She spoke of her teenage rebellion, college and the devastation she felt when her own mother sold her to Stefan.

Soon, it wasn’t just about the sex or information. It became more.

The difficult part was hiding her secret. Sometimes, Stefan was a bit too curious at his wife’s activities while other times, he all but sent her away. Enzo always arranged the meetings. They never took the same car, met at the same place and Klaus bought her a secondary phone-that all her calls from her Stefan approved phone would be forwarded to. If either Stefan or Damon felt the need to ever track her, her phone would always ping at the location she claimed to be at.

They took stalk pictures; just in case Stefan would request proof of Caroline’s whereabouts. Enzo and Klaus thought of everything. Caroline knew that neither Stefan nor Damon suspected that it was Caroline feeding information to Klaus; because they did not think she was capable of much at all. However, they knew that Klaus always seemed to be one step ahead of them at every turn. Neither suspected that there was a mole in their organization, let alone their homes but then again Damon did not suspect what was happening under his very nose.

“They are sleeping together; they have to be.” Caroline replied, leaning against Klaus’s chest. They were lounging in the massive bathtub in his penthouse; bubbles floating around them. Tonight, was one of her friend’s birthday and Caroline was supposedly out at the clubs, having a good time. She went, took photos and left before the third shot of tequila. “I just can’t prove it.”

“That is a problem.” Klaus replied, teeth nipping at her ear; causing her to whimper. His fingers drew circles on her skin under the water. He was stated and relaxed; holding her close. Caroline learned that Klaus, despite the fact that he was possibly the cruelest man she had ever met, liked to cuddle. He enjoyed those moments after sex that were calm and peaceful. Caroline wondered if he had been like that with his other lovers, or if it was just her. She was not sure if she wanted the answer. “I could have Enzo plant something. Camera perhaps?”

“To risky. If he starts snooping around, Stefan and Damon may the wrong idea and think I’m having an affair with him.” Klaus’s chest rumbled from behind her, he reached over the tub to the small stand that was holding their glasses of wine. The friendship that blossomed between Caroline and Enzo was an odd one. Klaus often joked that the man’s loyalty shifted from Klaus to her; but that as long as she stayed safe, it did not bother him. Not only that, but Enzo was fiercely loyal to his girlfriend Bonnie and Klaus knew that. He wouldn’t being doing this job if that was not the case.

“Why are you so certain that Stefan and Elena are fucking, love?” Klaus asked, bringing the glass of red wine to his lips. “You know Stefan is in love with her. It could be one sided. Perhaps Elena is the perfect little faithful wife to Damon.”

“They just are. I can tell.” Her tone held a hint of relief to it that Klaus could not pin point. It wasn’t sadness or fear but something else. She noticed something, a shift in her home and it concerned Klaus. Anything that could possibly endanger Caroline concerned him.

“Caroline? What is it?” She turned in the tub to face him. He narrowed his eyes at her. Caroline did not keep much from Klaus but when she did, it typically had to do with her marriage with Stefan. Klaus did not take kindly to the fact that she still had to play the pretty little wife for the man; especially when it came to their sex life.

“Stefan has been less demanding…...in his visits with me.” Caroline looked at him, his face unreadable. His body stilled but the grip on her hips tightened. She leaned in and kissed him gently, hoping to ease the anger that was radiating off of him. “It has been over two weeks since he wanted anything from me.”

“I don’t like it that he fucks you at all.” The words came out as a hiss. His teeth her clenched together and his jaw locked. His eyes were ablaze with fury. He sat up straighter, bringing Caroline’s lips to his for a possessive kiss. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The kissed for a few moments before he broke away from her. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours. You know that.” Caroline whispered. “But he is my husband and he will be until all this is over. If I try and refuse him. It would be far worse for me in the end.” They knew it was true. In the early days of her marriage, Caroline learned that lesson the hard way. Klaus knew the stories and it was enough to send him into a frenzy; but he refrained from doing anything rash. They worked too hard to get this far just to throw in the towel now. Killing Stefan would only create more problems. The needed Damon to turn on Stefan.

If only they could find proof of Elena and Stefan’s infidelity…

“I’ll arrange something. A way for me to have eyes and ears in the house.”

“Are Enzo and I not enough for you?”

“You are more than enough. Enzo is disposable.” Klaus joked but it was half-hearted; his mood still black from Caroline’s reminder that she still had to on occasion sleep with her husband. Caroline threw him a small glare at the mention of Enzo. She knew he didn’t mean it, especially since he was still ensuring that Enzo’s girlfriend got the care she needed. “I need something tangible. Recordable. I’ll have to figure something out.”

“Niklaus.” There was a knock at the door. Klaus cursed while Caroline reached for her glass of wine. Caroline climbed off of him and leaned back down into the water; resting against the side of the bathtub. She covered herself with bubbles.

“Come in Elijah.”

Caroline had met Elijah on multiple occasions. At first, the older brother was skeptical of Klaus’s ongoing affair with the young woman. However, Caroline proved herself useful and when he realized that once Klaus was able to dispose of the Salvatore brothers, Caroline would not be going anywhere, he changed his tune and welcomed her with open arms; or at least, as open Elijah knew how to be.

Elijah Mikaelson was scary, intimidating and powerful. He had a high-ranking position in the FBI and had one to many friends in high places. More than once, Elijah came in the cover up some of Klaus’s more impulsive schemes. He was constantly picking up after Kol, when he was alive, who would start a turf war over the smallest of things. If it was not for the lawyers Damon and Stefan employed, she was sure that Elijah would have had them thrown in some federal prison by now on some trumped-up charge.

“Mrs. Salvatore, I did not realize you were joining my brother this evening.” Elijah replied, completely undisturbed that he interrupted what most would consider an embarrassing moment. Instead of turning away, he just leaned against the sink on the other side of the bathroom.

“Elijah, always a pleasure.”

“What do you want Elijah?” Klaus bit out. His mood had soured completely from his happiness earlier. He always enjoyed his moments with Caroline and the fact that they had too sneak around was getting to him. More than once, he thought about having Caroline brought to him, protecting her and hiring her the best divorce lawyer; but that would not solve his need for see the Salvatore brother’s dead. It would only provoke them. Children did not take kind to others stealing their toys.

“I had the most interesting case come across my desk today.” Elijah pulled out his phone from his suit pocket. He showed Klaus a picture of a young woman covered in blood and her head separated completely from her body. “Her name is Meredith Fell. Cousin to Logan Fell, that fellow whose throat you had slit a few months back. She did some interesting work for Stefan and Damon at one time.”

“What about her?” Klaus asked but Caroline grabbed the phone at the mention of the name Fell. She knew that name and knew the connection they had to her husband. The photo was gruesome and reminded her of the photos Klaus had shown her of her mother. “Caroline?”

“This is Stefan. This is his work.” The murder was identical to her mothers. She knew his signature anywhere. It wasn’t that he decapitated his victims but more or less that he enjoyed putting them back together. “Why is it on your desk?”

“Valid question. Why are you looking into this Elijah? A single murder is a bit below your paygrade.” Klaus narrowed his eyes in confusion. The murders that Stefan committed were typically handled by the NYPD and since they bought a new commissioner, it was swept under the rug.

“Because this murder did not occur in New York, but in New Jersey. It crossed state lines and the fact that it bore similar markings to a cold case from six months ago in New York, it became federal jurisdiction. Your mother’s murder.” Elijah linked eyes with Caroline and she felt the emotion well up in her throat. She had accepted that Stefan would not go down for her mother’s death but hearing that there was a small chance almost made her want to cry.

Klaus stood from the bathtub, not caring that he was naked in front of his brother or the fact that water was dripping all over the tile flooring. Elijah scolded his brother and handed him a towel, which Klaus quickly wrapped around his waist. The look on Klaus’s face could only be described as manic glee. This was unexpected but a happy turn.

“Elijah I could kiss you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Elijah replied. “I subpoenaed all the documents from the Elizabeth Forbes murder as well as a few others. I picked up the documents this evening before coming here. It may be a few days but I should have enough evidence to open a formal investigation against him.”

“And if you don’t?” Caroline asked.

“I’ll make enough evidence.” Elijah replied in a tone that was hard. Caroline forgot for a second that this was personal for him as it was for her. Kol was Elijah’s brother too. Klaus could strike, often, hard and fast. Elijah, while not above planting evidence, lying under oath and arranging the occasional accidental death, still had some boundaries that he was forced to operate under. “One way or another, he’ll go down for this.”

“One way or another?”

“Either through the courts or publicly. What I have in store for Stefan and Damon Salvatore is something they will never recover from.”

“Well, this night keeps getting better and better.” Klaus replied. He took another sip of his wine, this time wearing a very pleased smirk. He leaned down and kissed Caroline on the lips. She did not care that she was naked nor that Elijah was standing right there. The idea of Stefan being thrown in a jail cell, even if it would be temporary made her very happy. “Although, I do think we shouldn’t put all our eggs in that basket. Caroline, tell my brother where dear Damon is tonight.”

“He is meeting with Mayor Lockwood later on.” Elijah cocked his head at her and waited for her to continue. “At her house, late on a Friday night.” She could see Elijah’s wheels turning in his head. Carol Lockwood was old enough to be Damon’s mother and while it would not be unheard up, Damon was not one to bed a woman that much older than himself. He was also very faithful to Elena. Probably the only redeeming quality about him. “Now Elijah, get your mind out of the gutter. Damon is expecting a shipment next month. Twelve men are coming in, by ship, from Italy. I don’t know what cargo they are bringing but it’s very important that Mayor Lockwood…looks the other way.”

“Interesting. Very interesting.” Elijah shot a look to Klaus, who had picked up Caroline’s phone and scrolling through it. “I thought you had an understanding with the Mayor?”

“I do.” Klaus replied in an almost bored tone. “It appears her and I will have to have a conversation, and soon.” He turned to Caroline. “Your husband is asking when you plan on being home. I told him that you and that red headed friend of yours were enjoying a pitcher of margaritas. I sent him this picture.” Klaus strolled over to her and showed her a photo that was taken earlier in the night. It was her and Aurora having drinks at the club they had been at earlier; and one she was certain Aurora was still at. “He says not to drink to much and to take your time. Seems like someone is up to something.”

“Well, it looks like you just bought me a few more hours.” Caroline smiled. She reached for his hand and kissed it. Klaus turned to his brother and made a motion that told Elijah he needed to bugger off. Caroline giggled. “I think Klaus is trying to say that you’ve over stayed your welcome. Thank you for the update. We’ll be in touch.”

“Yes, brother. What she said.”

“Very well. Have a pleasant evening. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Elijah shut the bathroom door behind in time to hear the splashing of water and Caroline’s high-pitched laughter. Despite the method of his brother’s relationship with the married woman, Elijah couldn’t help but have a budding respect for Caroline.

It wasn’t until wee hours of the morning that Caroline walked through the front door of the mansion. She had always found it strange that Stefan wanted a home in the middle of upper-class suburbia. It was in a gated community and Caroline hated everything about it. It felt suffocating and fake. The lights were all off, not that she was expecting anything else. Stefan wasn’t expecting her home, believing that she was out with the so-called best friend and as long as she had Enzo and wasn’t making a scene, he allowed for such diversions from time to time. It was to show the world that he was not a controlling husband but one who allowed his wife the social life she had before marriage.

Caroline made her way up the stairs to the master suite quietly, hoping not to wake Stefan, but as she got closer, she could see the light under the door was on. There was a sound coming from inside and it was a woman’s voice. She was moaning and whimpering. There was the slight sound of the bed creaking and hitting the wall. Once she reached the door, she grabbed the handle and turned, pushing the door open.

Inside was the scene she expected the moment she heard those noises. Stefan’s back was to her, his hips thrusting forward. Elena was on her back, legs spread and her body arching into Stefan’s. Her eyes were closed and head tilted in a way that gave Stefan access to her neck. Elena cried out a just as she did, her eyes opened.

“Caroline!?” Caroline jumped back the moment Stefan flew from the bed. On instinct, Caroline did the one thing that her gut was telling her to do.

Fucking Run.

She dropped her silver heels, her purse and bolted down the hallway. However, in her bare feet and tight shiny dress, she just wasn’t fast enough. By the time she reached the stair way, Stefan had caught up with her and grabbed her by the hair; pulling her backwards. Caroline latched onto his hand, digging her nails into his skin; but the slight pain seemed not to faze Stefan. He dragged her down the hallway, Caroline kicking and yelling for him to let her go.

Stefan tossed her into the bedroom, throwing her into the dresser. Her body smashed into it, the side of her face hitting the drawer, before landing on the wood flooring. He reached down and picked Caroline up by her throat and slammed her into the wall. Elena was rushing around the room, frantically gathering her clothes and dressing. Stefan pressed his still naked body against hers and tightened his hand on her throat.

“You say nothing.” Stefan’s voice was the most dangerous she had ever heard it. It was low and menacing. “Do you understand me? You saw nothing. You know nothing. You keep your mouth shut and I’ll let you pretty little head stay on its shoulders. Understand?” Caroline nodded the best she good and Stefan gave her a charming smile. “Good.”

For good measure, he slammed her head against the wall one last time before dropping her to the ground. He kicked her twice in the stomach, causing her to go into the fetal position. Her entire body ached from his assault. Dazzlingly, she could hear Stefan dressing while exchanging words with Elena. She opened her eyes to see a blurry vision of Elena walking past her following Stefan, not even sparing her a glance.

She closed her eyes again, drifting off.

It wasn’t until late morning that Caroline came to. She was in her bed, the same bed Stefan fucked Elena in, and her clothes had been changed. She sat up and nearly cried. She looked down and noticed that her waist was bandaged; and was the part of her body that hurt the worst. She pulled herself from the bed and walked to her now broken dresser. She pulled a change of clothes out and went into the bathroom. She turned on the light and looked at herself in the mirror.

The sight was frightening. There was a cut on her forehead that had been cleaned and a bruise that covered the side of her face. Her neck bore marks in the shape of Stefan’s hand. She didn’t remember getting dressed or cleaning herself up. She turned on the sink and washed her face as gently as she could. She wanted to shower but how her waist felt, she figured it would not be the best idea. She did the best she could to wash away any dried blood that was left. She changed into a pair of jeans and a tank-top with a built-in bra. She figured she would grab a cardigan, despite the hot August air, to hide the bruises that were left on her arms.

“You gave me a right scare last Gorgeous.” Caroline all but jumped back as she re-entered her bedroom. Enzo was standing in the master’s bedroom with a concerned expression on his face. He held up his hands to show her he meant no harm. “I heard the commotion from outside, I came running the moment I heard what was going on. Admittedly, he hid when I saw Stefan and Elena coming out.”

“You cleaned me up.” Caroline replied and Enzo nodded.

“I cleaned the wound on your head. Got you to drink some water and wrapped your waist as tightly as I could. I think you have a cracked rib. I stayed as long as I could, ensuring that you were okay but I couldn’t risk Stefan realizing I was there.” Enzo stated. He walked closer to her and his voice dropped low. “I let him know what I found last night. Caroline, he is ready to reign hellfire down.”

Enzo stepped away from her then and left the bedroom quickly before anyone came upon them. She stood in the middle of the bedroom contemplating and thinking. She knew that Enzo would contact Klaus for her. She could not risk reaching out to him now. Stefan would be watching her and the last thing he could know was about her affair. What he did last night would be nothing compared to what he would do to her if he knew about Klaus. Flashes of the pictures Elijah showed her came to mind; Meredith Fell’s body, her head completely detached from her body.

Once she felt her bravery reached her, Caroline made her way down the stairs. It was slow process. Her muscles ached and groaned with every movement. However, she could not hide away in the bedroom all day; that would only make Stefan angrier. When she reached the kitchen, she made a cup of coffee and sat at the island, thinking the night before and how terribly wrong it went.

“What did you do?” Caroline looked up quickly to see Damon leaning against the archway. His tone was light as though he did not have a care in the world. His arms were crossed and he was eyeing her up and down. “I know my brother has a temper but what did you do that made him that angry?”

“I was out with Aurora last night. Had one to many. Came home late.” Caroline replied.

“And now she knows not to do that.” Caroline froze at the sound of Stefan’s voice. He entered the kitchen, his eyes never left hers-a warning lingering behind them. He took the cup of coffee from her hands and drank from it. He sat it back down and kissed the top of Caroline’s head. “Come brother, tell me about your meeting with the Mayor last night. Tell me, what does she look like at three in the morning?” Stefan chuckled, his tone filled with humor as though his wife was not sitting before him, beaten and bruised.

Days past and Caroline did not leave the house; both because she was too injured and Stefan would not allow it. She stayed put, walking on egg shells and unsure what to do. Damon and Elena were over most days, but that was not unusual. Elena became extremely nice to Caroline, acting as though they had been the best of friends forever. Caroline smiled at her, but did not engage her to much. Stefan’s eyes rarely left hers and he made sure that she was never left alone with Damon; who seemed to notice nothing at all. Enzo filtered in and out as usual, giving her only looks; clearly not being able to say anything at all; but something was about to happen.

Come Tuesday morning, hellfire came raining down. She locked herself in the house, rarely doing anything other than reading and watching movies. Stefan made it a point to stay home for the rest of the weekend and did not go into the office on Monday or Tuesday; telling them that Caroline was sick and needed him to care for her. In truth, he did no such thing. He ignored her and she knew that this was another way for him to control her and watch her movements; but Caroline gave him no reason to strike out at her. It was about ten past nine in the morning when everything changed.

“FBI. Open up.” Caroline sat up quickly, her body crying out as she did. Before anyone could answer the door, it burst open and agents came flooding in. Dozens and dozens of agents started tearing the house apart, looking for something; anything.

Stefan flew down the stairs, demanding to know what was going on. He yelled at the agents who ignored him and continued the assault on the massive house. Elijah Mikaelson stepped over the threshold casually, his hands in the pocket of his trousers; not giving a single fuck in the world.

“Get the hell out of my house. You’re not welcome here.” Stefan hissed at him but Elijah looked at him impassively. He reached into his suit jacked and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him. Stefan snatched it out of his hand and began to read.

“I believe that you’ll find a federal warrant allows me to be in every inch of your house.” Elijah replied coolly. A loud crash came from inside the dining room; the china case if Caroline was assuming. “We are investigating the murder of Meredith Fell and re-opening the murder of Elizabeth Forbes. Two deaths we have sufficient evidence to believe you were involved with.”

“This isn’t a warrant to search my house.” Stefan hissed out.

“My apologize. That must be the one for your arrest.” Elijah reached in and pulled out another piece of paper. “This must be the one for the search of your house. Do not worry. We have another warrant searching your brother’s home as well.” Stefan snatched the paper out of his hand and read. “Now, you can either come with me willingly or I can have you taken by force. I’m sure you would not want to make more of a scene in front of your wife.”

Stefan turned to look at Caroline, her bruised face and battered body on display for all the agents around. Her shorts and tank-top left nothing to the imagination. The visible hand-prints on her neck made it clear that she had been chocked. It would not take a genius to know what happened to her and now the FBI clearly knew what Stefan did to his wife behind closed doors. While Stefan was busy glaring at his wife as though she brought the FBI to their door, Caroline stole a glance at Elijah. His expression seemed cool and collected but there was something behind his brown eyes that was terrifying.

“Fuck you.” Stefan replied, turning back to Elijah; who just gave him a cruel smile.

“Take him.” Two agents descended upon Stefan and roughly pulled towards the front door. “I’d cooperate if I were you Mr. Salvatore. I would hate for this to become more of a spectacle than it already is.”

The agents dragged Stefan from the house while Caroline just watched; catching glimpses of her neighbors pointing and whispering behind their hands. Chaos raged around her as her home was being destroyed. Every ounce of furniture was being destroyed, torn apart and searched for something. She could hear the same treatment being done to the second and third floor. When a hand touched her shoulder, she jumped; for a second, she thought Stefan some how made his way back into the house but was relieved to see that it was Elijah looking at her.

“My apologize Mrs. Salvatore. Caroline.” Elijah said, his eyes searching her. “Are you well?”

“I’ve been better.” Elijah nodded in understanding. “Whatever your searching for Elijah, it won’t be here. Or at Damon’s. They are not stupid to keep anything incriminating here.”

“Perhaps but some raids are not meant to find anything at all.” Caroline read between the lines. These agents were not hear to find anything but instead to plant something. This was just one step in a larger plan. “I believe that you’re wanted upstairs Mrs. Salvatore.”

Enzo’s words echoed in her mind. Caroline, he is ready to reign hellfire down.

Caroline gave him a confused looked and it wasn’t until he smiled that she turned and went quickly as she could up the stairs; her cracked ribs only allowing her to move so fast. She passed all the agents and stepped over the debris that was being left behind. Her eyes searching every face she passed, looking for one in particular. When she got to her bedroom, she pushed the door open and saw only one agent. Except, he wasn’t an agent at all and he wasn’t searching for anything.

Klaus stood in the bedroom she shared with Stefan, an FBI jacket hanging off his shoulders. He wasn’t going through their belongings, trashing the room (which was already trashed by another agent) but instead he was installing something in the television that was perched on the mantel, facing the bed.

“Klaus.” He turned when he heard the sound of her voice. He dropped his screwdriver and marched over to her. Gently, he placed his hands on her face. He took category of every bruise on her body and Caroline could feel the rage that was radiating from his skin. His body was shaking and she could feel the tension radiating from him. “I didn’t know you joined the FBI.”

“I’m not in the mood for jokes.” Klaus replied but his lips tugged upward. “I needed a way into this house. To you. Elijah was more the willing to provide the distraction. I was one face of many, storming in. Stefan would be focused on Elijah and I could come in undetected.” Of course, Klaus would use the FBI as a distraction for his own personal vendetta. “I wanted to come here and kill him the moment Enzo informed me of what happened to you. Elijah’s cooler head prevailed. This was Elijah’s plan.”

Caroline stood on her tip toes and kissed his lips lightly. She wasn’t up for anything deeper than a light peck but Klaus was willing to accept what she could give. She buried her face into his chest, inhaling his scent. This the safest she felt in days. Klaus felt like home to her and she wanted out of this hell. She knew that they were working on it but last night scared her. Stefan was one mood away from killing her.

“What were you doing when I came in?”

“Installing a camera. There will be dozens throughout the house once this is over.” Caroline shot him a look. “Stefan’s arrest will only hold him for so long. His lawyers will have him out on bail within days.” Caroline nodded in understanding. This was not the end but instead a power play. Caroline realized that what Klaus had done before, sending pictures of Jeremy’s body, raiding Stefan and Damon’s docks, slowly dwindling down their power, was child’s play. “He will never lay a hand on you again. If he tries. I will know. We are going to attack him from all sides. Financially, ruin his reputation, Stefan won’t be able to make a move without us knowing.”

“And Stefan and Elena? Their affair?”

“Give it time, love, and they will be a tragedy of their own making.”

[legolaslovely]

Surprises

A/N: Happy Fili Friday! I immensely enjoyed righting this. I hope you guys enjoy. For @patchworkideas Thank you for everything! <3 

Pairing: FiKi

Word Count: 6,100

Warnings/Tags: Modern AU, Cop!Fili, Artist!Kili, they are not related, angst, comfort, non explicit smut, fluff! 

Summary: For most of his life, Fíli didn’t like surprises and did his best to avoid them. Then he met someone who taught him to savor both giving and receiving anything unexpected.

Fíli never liked surprises. It’s not that he couldn’t handle any unexpected thing that was thrown at him with tact, it was just that he never enjoyed spectacles or too much effort or attention. His coworkers down at the station learned that about him the hard way when, after painstakingly planning and decorating a lovely surprise party for their newest and most dependable recruit, the birthday boy himself didn’t even show up for the celebration. It wasn’t until the next day they all learned Fíli had taken the day off from work to fish at the lake where the only birthday phone call he answered with more than a text was the one from his mother. 

For most of his life, Fíli didn’t like surprises and did his best to avoid them. Then he met someone who taught him to savor both giving and receiving anything unexpected.

***

September

Was he really this predictable? Fíli sat on his usual stool that was left open for him in the busy bar. Already there waiting for him was a cooled glass of the same lager he always ordered. He clearly had to change up his routine. After he drank his beer.

He took a sip, licked the foam from his mustache and as he went to set it on the ring already sunk into the coaster, his arm was jostled. The man who caused a splash quickly apologized.

“S’okay,” Fíli said.

It took him less than a minute to size the stranger up. Six feet, mid-twenties, broad shoulders, though not as broad as his own. The man waved to the bartender, lean yet strong muscle leaving a thick shadow over the bar. He was fit, probably a runner. Not a weightlifter like Fíli, who was in the gym every morning before his shift despite his hatred of getting out of bed any time before 10am. 

"Can I just get a...” the man trailed off as the bartender walked by, not even stopping to glance at the stranger in his bar. The man gave his head an entertained shake, freeing a stray curl that bounced over the center of his forehead, just above wide winged brows that were as dark as his eyes. Eyes that Fíli had barely gotten a glimpse of until they landed on him. They were glittering and not just with the old lights above the bar.

“Busy in here,” he said, running a hand through his hair that did nothing to restrain the leaping lock.

“Bartender takes care of his regulars first,” Fíli said with a shrug.

“Ah. Now that you say it, I think I read that in the handbook somewhere.”

He’s funny. Fíli shifted in his seat, turning to the side. Someone in this bar should welcome the stranger, why not him? Wasn’t it his duty? “Let me buy you a drink? I might have better luck with the bartender.”

Those dark brows shot up, uncovering a brighter, fresh looking face that had Fíli rethinking his age estimate. “Yeah. Sure,” the man said. He pointed over his shoulder. “I’m driving tonight so I’m just drinking soda. Uh, a Coke?”

“You’re a good friend,” Fíli said, hint of a smile peeking through his thick beard that he hoped hadn’t been soaked in beer foam. 

He pulled his eyes from the man and yelled for the bartender. “Dwalin! Can I get a Coke?”

“With what in it?” Dwalin yelled.

The stranger laughed, a higher pitch than Fíli thought would come out of him, but it was heart gripping all the same. “Uh, Ice?”

When the glass landed on the bar, Dwalin asked Fíli if he wanted another beer but Fíli shook his head.

“Why not? You’re off duty aren’t ya?”

“Of course I am,” Fíli said.

“Then I’ll getcha another.”

“No, no. Here,” he said, digging cash out of his wallet. 

Dwalin scooted away and snapped the towel from over his shoulder at Fíli’s hand. “Nah! Nah, nah. Save it, kid. On the house.”

Fíli slid the soda to the man by his side and waited until Dwalin was busy with another customer before shoving a twenty into the tip jar. 

“Thanks for the drink,” the man said .

“Fíli.”

“Yeah?” He scoffed. “Small world. My friends call me Kíli.”

The crowd seemed to settle and Dwalin’s Saturday night playlist easily descended to true background music as they talked, trading stories and small pieces of personal information. There was no prodding involved, it was just comfortable. Fíli couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a person’s presence more.

Kíli asked “off duty from what?” which launched the conversation of their individual careers. Fíli was waiting for the side eyed look he usually received when he let it out that he was a cop, but Kíli only smiled. He thanked him for his service. Fíli almost fell off his stool.

Kíli was an artist. When he mentioned he’d taught six classes at the college that day, Fíli stood, insisting Kíli take his chair. Only then had he noticed how crowded the bar had grown.

“No, please,” Kíli said. “I don’t want to take your seat.”

“You’re not taking anything. Sit.” But Fíli backtracked, leaving an escape path wide open. “If you want. Don’t let me keep you from your friends.” 

But Kíli sat. “I’m fine here.”

Even sitting, he was big. Fíli was not the kind to shrink from anyone or anything, but next to Kíli, his confidence and airs (an occupational hazard and necessity) deflated. Every coherent thought melted and simmered to god, he’s pretty. No one had ever affected Fíli this way and each time he straightened his shoulders or shifted on his feet and tried to expand, Kíli would smile and Fíli decided that maybe it was all right to be affected.

Kíli was chatty in an endearing and engaging manner. He had walked into the bar a stranger and now Fíli knew him better than some of the cops he’d met ten years ago. Kíli had recently moved from across the country. He had graduated from the college and fallen in love with the town, so when his parents passed away a few months ago, as a single child, he sold the house and moved back to his second home as he always wanted to. In an old but cozy house this time, instead of a dingy dorm. He started teaching painting lessons and in no time was hired as a professor in the arts department of the college. Dreams fulfilled.

He had an artist's hands. Thin but strong, calloused around the fingertips from brushes and tools and pencils. The veins and tendons popped as his hands waved, never sitting still as he spoke. He was mesmerizing, a moving painting that changed colors and concentrations as the night passed, customers left, and last call was announced. 

Someone behind them hollered Kíli’s name, but it was followed by shushing and giggling. Fíli turned around to see a tall red haired woman whispering loudly for all to hear. 

“He’s at the bar! Leave him alone, he’s with that hot guy.”

One of Kíli’s kinetic hands finally stilled over his eyes, rubbing his furrowed, unbelieving brow. Fíli knew his own cheeks were turning red, but he couldn’t give it another thought as Kíli looked up and grinned at him.

It was a thing of beauty really, reaching his eyes, smooshing them into glowing little slits with round cheeks and a heart shaped chin that curved his lips into the sweetest, smallest triangle.

“My friends...”

“Are having fun,” Fíli said. He sighed. The night had gone quicker than he’d wanted it to. “Will I see you here again?”

Kíli hopped off the stool. “Take my number and you can be sure of it.”

He watched Kíli type into his phone. Fíli had rules. He never kissed on a first date, he never kissed at the bar his boss frequented, he barely kissed in public at all, but this man made him want to change every rule he knew. Even the laws of gravity seemed to be changing because when Kíli gave his phone back and his hand lingered there, Fíli was sure he was floating. He wanted to kiss this man so badly his chest swelled with it, his mind swam in it, his fingers tingled with it, and then the decision was taken out of his hands. 

Kíli kissed his cheek. Just beside his lips. It was quick and unexpected but Fíli’s skin burned with Kíli’s touch long after he’d winked, said goodbye, and led his friends out of the bar. 

***

October

To say that Kíli was excited was an understatement. He was buzzing, trembling, vibrating in anticipation of Fíli’s arrival. He had only been in town for a little over a month when he met Fíli in Dwalin’s bar and it had taken longer than expected for Kíli to unpack from the big move and make his apartment suitable for visitors. Fíli often said, “I don’t care if it’s messy, I want to see your place,” with a very persuading kiss, but Kíli wanted everything to be perfect the first time Fíli came over for dinner.

Which is why Kíli had spent a good chunk of his week and paycheck preparing for this meal. Coaxing Fíli’s favorite recipes out of him- something that should have been sweet and easy and fun, turned into what Kíli imagined yanking hundred year old tree roots from winter turf would be like. And though he welcomed the chance to search through cookbooks and shop for the ripest, most delicious ingredients at the various markets, it all took time. But Kíli didn’t mind. This was important to him and he truly enjoyed pampering Fíli. The man wasn’t spoiled very often.

Kíli was sitting on the floor, staring into the clear oven window when his phone rang. 

“Fíli, it’s five of seven and I know you don’t talk on the phone while you’re driving which means you’re either on my doorstep or you haven’t left yet and it better be the former because if you’re late I will drink this entire bottle of wine without you.”

“I’m on my way, Kíli. I’m sorry, work... work held me up a bit. I’m getting in the car now. Do you need anything else from the store? Want me to stop for anything?”

“If you stop somewhere I’m going to drink both of these bottles by myself.”

“That would be entertaining.”

“Fíli.”

“I’m on my way. Ten minutes.”

Kíli slid his phone onto the counter and stirred the bubbling sauce, tasting it one more time to make sure it was perfect. He gathered a pinch of salt, held it over the pot, then flicked it all into the sink, unused.

“It’s fine,” he said to himself. “It’s fine.”

He heard the rumble of Fíli’s car a few minutes later and pulled the top few buttons of his favorite shirt open. Fíli would never say it out loud, but Kíli knew the black curls that traveled up his neck from his chest drove the man wild. Kíli decided Fíli deserved a little shameless torture and distraction for making him wait an extra eight minutes.

The doorbell rang as he was twisting a corkscrew into the first bottle of Merlot. “It’s open!” he yelled.

It didn’t take long for arms to wrap around his waist and a grumbling to sound in his ear. “Stop leaving your door unlocked,” Fíli growled.

“Yes sir,” Kíli said in time with the pop of the cork.

“Something smells good.”

“Wait until you taste it,” Kíli said. “I ate so much of this as I cooked it- for tasting reasons- and honestly, I don’t even think there’s enough here for you.” He turned around in Fíli’s arms and almost dropped the full glass in his hands. “Fíli.”

Fíli took the wine out of Kíli’s hand and put it on the counter out of reach. He let Kíli stare.

The bruise around his eye reached up over his brow and down to his cheekbone. It seemed to grow darker by the moment, as if every wince of pain and pity turned his blood black. One soft, blue, undeserving iris was surrounded by red clouds.

“What happened?”

“I’m all right. I got called in for a domestic and I took a hit while cuffing the guy.”

Kíli didn’t speak, only stared while his grip on Fíli tightened.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I had to do some paperwork.”

“Don’t apologize.”

Only then did Kíli realize Fíli was still in his uniform. He’d seen the dark blue before, cinching and gaping in all the right places, suiting Fíli beyond measure, but now Kíli despised every inch of it. 

“I’ll grab something for you to wear-”

“I brought clothes,” Fíli said. “I’ll go change.”

Kíli released him hesitantly. “First door on the right.” He clicked off the burners and the oven and shoved the cork back into the wine bottle. Instead, he carried two glasses of bourbon to the couch he’d brought from his parents’ house. Ice cubes clicked together as he laid the packed towel on the small table and sat, sinking into the well used cushion and resting his arm over the back of the couch. 

He chuckled when Fíli came down the hall in his dress shirt and pants. “I thought you were going to change into something more comfortable.”

“What, am I getting too handsome for you?” Fíli asked, smirk only reaching one side of his face.

“It’s close.”

Fíli made a show of unbuttoning the top of his shirt. 

“Getting closer,” Kíli said.

When Fíli sat, he scooted down into the couch until the old thing almost ate him whole. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see Kíli watching him, but he could feel it. He sensed the routine emotions, the ones that come when you’re dating an officer. Constant concern that, like Kíli’s watercolors, mixed with splashes of ire and exasperation. Wonder was the crucial canvas that held it all together while remaining steady in the background. What went on in those squad cars? Would he always be safe? Always come home? Would Kíli want to stick around, stay in this budding relationship long enough to find out?

He jumped when he blindly felt Kíli’s fingers running through the ends of his hair. The towel had grown heavy and sopping from the melted ice and Kíli took it from him.

“Have I told you how great this apartment is?” Fíli asked, tilting his head to look at Kíli.

“No.” Kíli said, giving his best frown. “You came in, used my bathroom and ruined my best towel.”

Fíli laughed, soft, deep, and rumbling. Comforting. But it was brief. “Don’t forget I also ruined your dinner, our night, and everything we’ve been looking forward to.”

“Nonsense.”

“Kíli, I’m so sorry.”

Kíli scooted closer. “Don’t apologize.” He leaned down and kissed Fíli’s temple, caressing the sore spot with soft, warm lips that seemed to have their own healing powers. When he drew away, Fíli was watching him.

“You always surprise me,” he said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Kíli who buried his face into the crook of Fíli’s neck. 

“I’m sick of being surprised,” he murmured against Fíli’s skin.

***

November

Kíli’s hand found Fíli’s as he drove home from the restaurant. The dinner had been nice- glowing candles, red wine, snobby yet over-polite waiters and dainty portions. It was clear they were both a bit out of their element in the dark, very quiet dining room. Even Kíli seemed a bit shy, but slowly, his small smiles lit their corner of the room- a beacon for Fíli to fuel and admire.

Though their meal together had been enjoyable, it was the farthest thing from Fíli’s mind as Kíli’s fingers intertwined in his. Practiced digits danced, looped, caressed, tickled, until his first finger broke loose and slid up the inside of Fíli’s thigh. Kíli’s focus remained on the road, but the very corner of his lips tweaked upwards. Soft and ever pink, surrounded by a scratch of permanent black stubble, pulled and bent, letting Fíli know their minds were on the same subject. 

They’d been dating a few weeks now. They’d talked and planned, then those plans were ruined when Fíli took a black eye at work. It was the new arrangement that led to this night. Their night. Which is why Fíli held Kíli’s hand- every finger- far away from any part of his leg. His breath had already grown quick and heavy and he refused to ruin their plans once again by losing control and fucking Kíli right there in the front seat of his own car. He took a deep breath that broke and shook halfway through and rolled a thumb over Kíli’s knuckles, forcing himself to think of something else as they managed to stop at every single red light in the entire damn town. Kíli only chuckled. 

Fíli was a patient gentleman as he followed Kíli to the door and they stepped inside. However, he would never know if Kíli had planned nightcaps or coffee because as soon as the front door was locked behind them, Fíli kissed him. His fingers dove through black hair, circled the nape of Kíli’s neck, down his chest, around his waist and into his back pockets. Kíli moaned in his mouth and that was it.

He picked Kíli up and swallowed the deep growl it caused. (He’d think more about that later and revel in the fact that Kíli liked to be manhandled by him.) Kíli wrapped his limbs close around Fíli, coiling like a serpent, as if he couldn’t get close enough. As if he were trying to climb under Fíli’s own skin to share the same blood rushing heartbeat. In turn, Fíli clawed at him and balled the evil, offending shirt- the layer between them- into his fists, sucking in a sharp breath as Kíli’s already hard erection ground into his.

After mumbled directions, elbow slams and palm slaps against the walls, Fíli found the bedroom. Next step: the lamp. Fíli wanted to see. Every line, every crevice, every hair, smile, lip bite- everything that was finally allowed to be his, he wanted it. He was greedy. 

He laid Kíli on the bed, hovered over him, tore off his shirt, kissed, nipped, and traveled down the warm, gorgeous body below him. He lost himself in the swirling southern wind of desire, couldn’t cherish each precious moment as he’d dreamed of doing. It was all too fast but he rode the storm, unable to stop until he could feel and hear and see everything.

It was only Kíli’s gasped “Wait!” that had him sitting back on his knees thinking Please, please don’t change your mind about us. Please don’t ask me to leave. Please-

But his thoughts stopped completely as Kíli sat in his lap and held his face. “I want this to last,” he said. He smiled and Fíli was sure it was brighter than any light he’d seen. Kíli went on. “I’m excited too- more excited than I’ve ever been. I want to touch you and pleasure you.” Hands fell down Fíli’s chest and up his thighs. “But I want to take my time about it.”

In all the nights spent imagining sharing Kíli’s bed, Fili hadn’t ever thought of going slow. He could hear Kíli whining and screaming his name, begging for more and harder. He saw strangled bed sheets tear and felt nails leaving divots in his back as reminders of uncontrolled passion. Slow never crossed his mind, but now that it did, he couldn’t imagine it any other way. 

Kíli only smiled and kissed him. Slowly. Deeply. Pouring every ounce of devotion and admiration into Fíli’s body and mind with tender touch, soft lips, and warm caresses of his tongue.

“We do have all night, don’t we?” Fíli asked.

Kíli hummed against his lips. 

So they took their time. Each charted every breath, discovered tender corners, mapped wide plains and lapped at warm waters. They took all night and long into the morning before finally falling asleep after a well deserved breakfast of Fíli’s apparently famous pancakes. 

As Kíli curled into his arms and fell asleep against him, Fíli wondered if he had ever felt as loved as he did by Kíli. Kíli had watched him, eyes forever open, no matter what Fíli did. Kíli treasured every inch of his body, took him to soaring heights that left him trembling in long lean arms and reaching for soft, short kisses that never lacked emotion or affection. Had Fíli ever snorted with laughter while inside someone? Definitely not. But he wanted to do it again with Kíli. Always with Kíli.

***

April

It didn’t take long for Fíli to learn how much Kíli loved the unexpected. Their second date was Fíli’s plan and as soon as he casually said the location of their night was a surprise, Kíli erupted like pecans in a food processor. His wide eyes shone in the headlights from across the street as they took note of every street sign. Despite his best intentions, he asked nosy questions like “How long will it take to get there?” and “Will I need my jacket? Are we even going inside?” and when Fíli played the game and said, “I’m not telling you,” Kíli only grinned as if that in itself was a hint. That amount of fidgeting and finger tapping and ankle crossing may have been annoying to anyone else, but Fíli found it extremely endearing. And on the drive home, Fíli was already thinking of other things that would exercise Kíli’s excitement and curiosity.

This surprise, however, was a big one. It was a big step, a big decision. But the best part about it, the part that made Fíli push ahead with this plan in the first place, was that Kíli was completely unsuspecting. Completely.

“Isn’t your spring break coming up next month?” Fíli asked late one morning after pouring his third cup of coffee. “Do you have any plans?”

Kíli hummed while he thought. “Nnnno. Not really. I was going to clean up some paintings and frame them for the collection at the college at the end of the semester.”

“Landscapes?”

“Some of them,” Kíli said, distracted, not seeing Fíli’s point. 

“How would you feel about adding some beach landscapes to your selection?”

A slow, but wide grin- wider than any horizon Kíli had ever painted- stretched over his face. “I could do that.”

“Good.” Fíli turned, clicking off the coffee pot and pulling the mug to his lips to hide his smile. He wasn’t at all shocked when he felt Kíli’s arms wrap around his waist, as comfortable and snug as an old sweatshirt.

“Wouldn’t you rather a cabin in the woods?” Kíli asked, running his cool nose up the crook of Fíli’s shoulder to his ear. It was well mapped territory. “I could also paint landscapes of the lake.”

“You love the beach.”

Kíli hummed and Fíli could feel his chest reverberating against his back. He leaned into it. 

“But you love the quiet,” Kíli said. “Cool nights under cozy blankets…. Crisp mornings watching the fog lift from the lake…” His hands were wandering.

“I also love the beach when you are wearing nothing but a very small swimsuit.”

“Then I’ll go buy an even smaller one,” Kíli said, pushing and pulling and grabbing all the right places because he loved his surprises that much.

The new swimsuit Kíli bought for their vacation was indeed smaller than any he had ever owned and Fíli couldn’t decide if he appreciated how the other beach goers admired what was his or if he hated the jealousy it brought out in him. Either way, Kíli basked in Fíli’s gaze always and he made sure any feelings of envy were washed away with the tide.

Kíli truly catered to Fíli’s needs while they were away, meaning the only time he wore a shirt was when some kind of dress code mandated it. They didn’t spend a lot of time in restaurants for that reason. Instead, they went to the store, sandals clapping against the tile floor and Kíli wrapped up in Fíli’s warmest but also saltiest sweatshirt, shopping for sandwich supplies and cheesy pretzels, iced teas and beer. 

After the first day, Fíli bought a beach umbrella the size of their car because he didn’t care if Kíli only tanned and never burned, he wanted to enjoy Kíli’s semi nakedness without worrying about his health. He’d also purchased an untold number of sunscreen bottles to empty and massage into Kíli’s skin multiple times a day. It was hard work rubbing the white out of a dark chest pelt, up over muscled shoulders, down a tapered  waist, around a furry belly, and down thick legs. It was a burden only Fíli could bear. Kíli felt well taken care of and made sure Fíli never noticed the cans of spray sunblock at the store.

Their third day on the coast, Kíli managed to drag Fíli from the bed and out to the beach for the sunrise. The early hour benefits outweighed Fíli’s grumbling: they escaped the crowds, the parking passes, and the heat, able to simply cherish each other’s company as they sat with their toes in the surf and their arms around one another. As the morning went on, sleepiness transferred from one man to the other and Fíli was able to get his revenge on his morning loving lover. He pulled Kíli through the sand, diving into the frigid high tide, giggling, splashing, and shoving until Kíli’s cold fingers stroked Fíli’s beard and pulled them face to face. That was the moment Fíli decided he loved Kíli’s salty kisses the best.

The sun flew across the sky that day and clocked out early like it too was on vacation. Tourists left and there were still a few hours before the night beachcombers would arrive. Similar to that morning, Fíli and Kíli had the beach to themselves and they used the public privacy to curl into each other under their now unneeded umbrella. 

Fíli rolled over top of his love. White specks of sand made Kíli’s curls even thicker and the salt water left the tresses heavy between Fíli’s fingers. A soft, content hum escaped the one beneath him and his heart swelled. He tried to tell Kíli how much he loved him. I want to share every moment of life with only you. You’ve enriched my life from the moment we met in that bar and I’ve been drunk on you ever since. You turned a lonely and alone man into someone loved and cherished and worth your time. You are so important, you are everything.

“I love you so much,” was all that came out.

Kíli’s thumb rolled over his cheek and tried to dislodge the clear line of tears that seemed stuck in blue eyes that matched the day lit sky. Fíli always welled up from toe to crown when he tried to tell Kíli how much he loved him.

“I know,” Kíli said. “I love you too, Fíli.”

***

August

Fíli drove too fast to Kíli’s apartment. He’d texted, he’d called, and yet he’d heard nothing from Kíli all day. Usually Kíli would shoot back messages fairly quickly, writing something on the spot to make Fíli smile or laugh or even blush and shift in his chair enough for his partner to ask who he was talking to. Kíli would always answer when Fíli called, picking up on the second or third ring no matter what he was doing in case Fíli needed him. Today, every line of communication went unanswered. 

When Fíli pulled in the driveway he could see the low light from the lamp in the front room through the curtains that Fíli had helped Kíli pick out last year. Other than that square of yellow, the rest of the house was dark. He took the chance that Kíli was still awake and though he had a key to the house, he knocked on the door.

He listened. No tv, no music, but soon footsteps. Kíli answered the door, half full glass in hand and waving around. 

“Oh. Hey.” He walked back into the house, leaving Fíli in the doorway.

“Hey. You didn’t answer your phone all day so I wanted to make sure you were all right.” He locked the door behind him, but Kíli was still standing in the middle of the room with his back to Fíli as if he wasn’t there.

Fíli was fit to burst. The words were on the tip of his tongue: Why haven’t you answered my calls? You couldn’t have even said ‘talk to you later, I’m busy?’ Do you know how worried I was? I thought something was wrong!

But as Fíli watched Kíli, unmoving, fingers hooked around the top of the glass, shoulders hunched like he’d never seen them, it was clear that something was wrong. 

Fíli’s hand found the small of Kíli’s back, the little divot made just for that purpose, and Kíli turned and blinked sluggish and heavy lidded eyes. “Sorry,” he said. “You want something to drink? S’on the counter,” he said, waving his glass and spilling a splash on the floor. “Shit.”

“I got it,” Fíli said. “You wanna sit?”

He watched Kíli fall into the oversized easy chair in the corner of the room. It rocked and creaked, not used to being sat in. Whenever Fíli was over, the two would pile on the couch so they could tangle their limbs and fill each other’s space and share everything. Now Kíli sat alone in the chair and nothing could be shared. 

Fíli wiped up the liquid that almost burned the inside of his nose and threw the towel on the small table. By then, Kíli had leaned forward onto his thighs, holding his head in his hands. 

“This is a new spot for you,” Fíli said, settling on his knees below Kíli on the floor.

A grin spread across Kíli’s face that pushed his eyes closed. “Not for you though.” He pulled Fíli’s hands to his thighs and leaned down to kiss him. The half empty bottle on the counter was enough to tell Fíli his boyfriend was sloshed, but it was the taste of him that let Fíli know it hadn’t been the first bottle opened. He could get tipsy himself from just kissing Kíli. 

A word made its way between them and disrupted their embrace.

“Mee-mm- need a new couch.”

Fíli glanced at the perfectly good piece of furniture he’d spent plenty of time in. “You think so?”

“It’s too old. Doesn’t match any of the other furniture.”

“I can take you shopping this weekend.”

At the mention of actually following through with his plan, Kíli turned to the offending couch with a threatening glare. The plush cushions sat pitifully like a dog saved from the shelter who had peed on the floor and chewed the bed while left alone.

“I’m just sorry I spent all that money driving it across the country.”

“It’s still in good condition,” Fíli said. “You could sell it and make the money back. College students are always looking for good sofas.”

Fíli would talk about this fucking couch until Kíli finally came out with what was really bothering him. He knew every one of Kíli’s emotions even better than his own, and right now, he knew just because Kíli had a cover over his passion, didn’t mean the fire wasn’t still raging underneath. Fíli knew he only had to wait. He watched the deep brown eyes he’d fallen in love with grow laser focused, staring without seeing.

A thick thumb dragging over a knee was what blew the cover off the inferno and added gas.

“I fucked up, Fíli. I fucked it all up. I shouldn’t have sold the house. What kind of person sells their parents’ house a month after they die? But I couldn’t look at it anymore and now I can’t go see it even if I wanted to because someone else lives there now! And all I brought with me were some photo albums and this fucking couch! I want it gone! I wanna fucking burn it but I look at it and half of me sees my family, watching movies and eating dinner and talking about me coming here to go to school and the other half of me sees you and all the time we’ve spent here.”

All of Kíli’s strength and energy flew out on his words and he slumped to the floor, falling into Fíli’s arms that were ready to catch him. Fíli pulled him into his lap. As his lover’s chest heaved and hiccuped and his hot tears slid down into the hollows of Fíli’s neck, Fíli let his own tears fall. His job was to protect people, most importantly, to protect Kíli. He thought he’d been doing well, but he couldn’t exactly keep grief in custody.

“And I don’t want to be a teacher!” Kíli pulled his face from the crook of Fíli’s neck, revealing his pink cheeks and swollen eyes. He rubbed his nose on his sleeve. “I don’t want to be a fucking professor, I want to paint. I don’t want to teach five classes a day and have office hours and be too exhausted to come home and make something for myself. I want to go to classes and be as inspired as my students are-” His breath caught in his chest as more tears flew down his face. Fíli caught them with his thumbs, swiping them away- blending and shading as Kíli taught him as if he could turn Kíli’s pain into something more beautiful and comforting. It didn’t work.

“You’ll call tomorrow,” Fíli said. “Reduce the number of classes you’re teaching, have fewer office hours. It’s still summer, you have time to make these changes before the new semester starts. Hey,” he whispered, making Kíli look at him. “We’re in this together. We’ll fix everything that needs to be fixed.”

Kíli relaxed in his arms. The drink had been washed from his eyes and they once again focused in on Fíli. “You are all I have. I want you to move in here. With me.”

Fíli thought of the key he just had the hardware store make. He thought of the dinner reservations for this weekend when he was going to ask Kíli to move in with him. 

“My dream was to move back here and paint. But even when I have the time for my art, there’s still something missing. It’s you. I want you here with me. All the time, I want you to move in.”

Fíli nodded, running his fingers through black curls. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

They did talk about it and Fíli found a guy from work who needed a place to stay and was glad to take over the remainder of Fíli’s lease. That weekend, he moved his stuff in, crowding his favorite books and old CDs into Kíli’s endless bookshelves, piling plates he’s had since college into the cabinets, figuring out which side of the closet belonged to whom and watching Kíli struggle to donate some of the shirts Fíli had never once seen him wear. When the bed was covered in boxes and bags, they made love on the floor, too impatient to move piles of clothes, but never too impatient to tease one another and make each other scream. Kíli said that the neighbors would have to get used to the more frequent noise.

Sunday afternoon, Fíli took Kíli furniture shopping, but they came back to their home empty handed. They weren’t able to find a couch that was as comfortable and perfectly worn in as the one they already had. No new sofa in the warehouse smelled of Kíli and the beer he’d spilled on his seventeenth birthday and the blanket Fíli brought from his apartment and the clean sweat that had managed to sink down deep into the cushion from many rounds of vigorous, furniture creaking, lube leaking sex. That was their couch and would be for a very long time.

***

After a year spent together, Kíli still surprised Fíli every day. Sometimes it was as small as making the perfect cup of coffee in the morning. But the one thing that never bewildered Fíli was how his ardent love for the painting stranger from the bar seemed to grow with every moment they shared together.

[wild-springflower]

Old Enough to Know I'll End Up Dying (It's Torture to Love You)

Hoooo boy has it been a while. I actually honestly forgot that I posted this on here... the best place to get reliable for any of my works would be on my AO3, for which I shall provide a link!

But sorry this took so long, here is chapter 3! 

Pt 1

He wanted to be angry, he really really wanted to be angry. But there would be a time and a place for anger, the hospital room with Christopher sat atop his lap and gripping his shirt like a lifeline was neither of them.

It had been almost five days, and Buck had scarcely left the hospital room. The others tried to get him to leave, but aside from watching Christopher, Buck had nothing else to do with his time. And he refused to leave Eddie alone. The others still had their job to do, Buck had no obligations, nowhere to be. Except by the side of a hospital bed.

Occasionally Eddie would show signs of stirring, but so far it had all been false hope, little mumbled words, shifting under the bedsheets. He hadn’t actually opened his eyes. And each time Buck felt his spirits drop a little more, his heart sink a little lower. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to stand it, how many more times he’d be able to reassure Christopher that everything was going to be okay.

Day six they decided it was time for Christopher to go back to school; even if he wouldn’t be able to concentrate, sitting in the hospital or at home all day wasn’t doing him any good and he’d already missed too much. Although the staff was being very understanding. Perhaps more understanding than they had a right to be, seeing as how Buck had implied the injury was sustained while Eddie was on the job.

Day nine Bobby had visited the hospital and practically forced Buck to leave, promising he would stay and call him immediately if anything changed. So he and Christopher spent the day playing with Legos and listening to cartoons on the tv. The story they’d started what felt like years ago sat untouched by Christopher’s bed, neither of them having the heart to continue it. Buck thought Christopher was maybe leaving it until Eddie could come home, until things could go back to normal. Whatever the reasoning was, Buck respected the kid’s decision and didn’t push him on it.

The morning of day ten was when Buck felt the last bits of himself shatter. The two of them had fallen asleep on the couch, it wasn’t always the most comfortable place to sleep but it was easier for the both of them if they were together, and Buck didn’t feel comfortable climbing into Eddie’s bed.

Around 4am Christopher woke up crying, as he had almost every night since the incident.

“Hey, hey buddy, it’s okay.” Buck soothed as he attempted to detangle himself from their mass of blankets.

“Excepts it’s no-not, i-is it?” Christopher hiccupped. “W-we don’t even-even know i-i-if daddy’s gonna wa-wake up. Do we?”

Bucks’ breath escaped in one large rush, and he felt like he’d been sucker punched in the solar plexus. Before he could reign his emotions in there were tears streaking down his cheeks. “Hey no, we can’t think like that.” He whispered wetly, pulling Christopher in for a tight embrace.

“What’s gonna happen if daddy doesn’t wake up?” Christopher asked, his voice a little steadier although Buck could still feel tears soaking into his shirt.

Buck bit his lip, “I don’t know.” He said.

Christopher’s grip tightened on his collar, and he sniffled, breath stuttering. “Will- will th-they take m-me away? I don’t wanna le-lea-ave you.”

“No, no baby no.” Buck pulled back, large hands clasping Christopher’s shoulders tightly. He stared into Christopher’s eyes, waiting until Christopher looked back before he spoke again, maybe the most serious he had ever been in his entire life. “No matter what happens they are not taking you away from me. I will never let anyone take you away from me okay? I promise.”

Christopher nodded, ducking back against his chest and hugging him tightly.

Buck sat for a moment, breathing deeply, almost unable to process the conversation they’d just had. It wasn’t right, it shouldn’t have ever had to happen. And again, Buck felt anger boiling in his stomach. With a deep sigh Buck kissed Christopher’s head and squeezed him just a little tighter in his arms, blinking up at the ceiling to try and stop more tears from breaking past the dam.

Normal visiting hours at the hospital didn’t start until 10, but they’d been given special permission to visit whenever they felt the need to, Buck was pretty sure Bobby had done some sweet talking, and Christopher’s puppy-dog eyes had certainly not hindered the process. Still, he figured a full breakfast before they left was a good idea, seeing as how the food at the hospital was hard to stomach on a good day. Needless to say, Buck hadn’t had a good day in quite a while.

Eggs were the easiest thing to make, and the only thing he’d really learned to perfect before Bobby had gotten too busy to continue their cooking lessons, Buck had always meant to ask when they could start them up again, but something always seemed to get in the way.

The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon when Christopher started pushing his food around on his plate, having only eaten a couple bites.

“Not hungry?” Buck asked.

Christopher just shook his head, staring sadly at the table.

“How about you take a couple more bites and then we’ll head out, sound good?”

Christopher perked up at that, “To the hospital?” He said softly.

“Yeah, but you have to eat a little more food, deal?” Buck felt slightly hypocritical as the last thing he wanted to do was shovel more food into his mouth, but he knew the both of them had to keep their health up for when Eddie was finally better.

“Deal!”

A little over an hour later found the two of them pulling up to the still fairly empty hospital parking lot and given the time of day it wasn’t hard to find a parking spot near the door. Sometimes Buck would grab the handicap pass, but he never liked to leave it in his car. It felt too permanent, less like he was watching Christopher for an extended period of time and more like things were changing. And he was not ready for things to change.

The nurses on their floor were all familiar with them by now, and all adored Christopher, so it was easy to distract him when he saw the doctor standing in Eddie’s room.

“Hey buddy,” Buck whispered, kneeling down so he was closer to the kid’s height. “How about you show Claire your drawings you made real quick.”

Claire gave him a gentle nod before also kneeling by Chris, “I would love to see your drawings buddy!”

Buck stood, mouthed a ‘thank you’ before he jogged over to his friends’ room. “Hey doc, is something wrong?”

Sophia had long brown hair that she always kept pulled back in a bun and smart green eyes that spoke of years of study, she was the best doctor in the hospital for their current predicament, and Buck found he trusted her easily. “No, nothing’s wrong, I was just checking the readouts. You’re here early.”

Buck shrugged sheepishly, “Couldn’t really stay distracted at home.”

“Listen, Buck, I know that this is hard for you. But this isn’t unusual for the type of injury sustained. Right now, just try not to worry. And, if anything changes, you will be the first to know. And we will cross that bridge if we get to it but worrying too much about what-ifs is just going to drive you crazy. Okay?”

Buck nodded, “I’ll try my best.” He smiled weakly.

Sophia gave a sad smile in response, “I’ll see you later.”

Buck watched her leave, his heart filling with warmth as she stopped to say hello to Christopher; he was always amazed with the way that kid could brighten anyone’s day, even when he was living a nightmare.

But his attention quickly turned back to the bed, and all the beeping machines. With his hands in his pockets Buck stepped closer and stared down at the face he was sure he had memorized. “You need to wake up.” He said.

“Hi daddy!” Christopher called from the doorway, announcing himself before he fully made it to the bed. It allowed Buck half a second to wipe away any stray tears and school his features.

“Come here buddy,” Buck hoisted Christopher onto his lap in the chair next to Eddie’s bed, “how about you tell your dad about the pictures you drew?”

Christopher nodded enthusiastically, pulling one drawing out from the small pile he’d brought with. “This one is us, and we’re all playing video games together.” He paused to pull a second picture on top, “And here we’re at the dog park, I know you said we can’t get a dog of our own, so I thought we could go there and just pet some!”

Buck chuckled at that, smiling at the drawing of a little Christopher petting what was potentially a black lab. “That looks really good bud!”

Christopher flashed a grin up at him before moving on to his next drawing. “And this is all of us at the beach. It’s still a little scary to be close to, but I know you like the beach daddy, so I thought I could be brave for you when you wake up and we can all go. As long as Bucky feels safe there too.”

Buck was saved from having to try and force his choked-up throat to function by a knock against the door.

Christopher turned around and smiled broadly, “Carla!” He called happily.

“Hello sweetie, how are you?”

Chris shrugged, “Alright.” He said a little more somberly. The shift made Buck’s heart ache.

“Come here.” Carla leaned down and pulled Chris into a quick hug, before her attention turned to Buck. “And you, how’s my other sweetie?”

Buck shook his head, but the affection made him smile, “I’m okay. Hey buddy, Carla’s gonna take you out for a bit today.” He leaned in closer with a smirk and a wink in the caretaker’s direction, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m pretty sure you can convince her to buy you ice cream if you ask really nicely.”

The thought at least made Christopher smile a little wider, and he nodded his head before wrapping his arms around Buck’s neck. “We can come back later?” He whispered in Buck’s ear.

“Yeah of course buddy, I’ll be here.” Buck promised, squeezing his arms around the small frame. “Say bye to your dad okay?”

“Can I hug him?”

“Course.” Buck stood and helped Christopher maneuver over to the bed.

It was a little clumsy, but Chris was able to put his arms over Eddie’s chest without touching any of the wires, “I love you daddy.” He said, before allowing Buck to set him on his feet.

It took less than three seconds after he was left alone in the room for Buck to break, broken sobs pulled from his lungs as his cheeks streaked with tears. “God, Eddie I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Buck sniffed, covering his eyes with his hands and trying to get his emotions under control. He was just glad he was alone in the room. “Shit.” He cursed with an exhausted sigh. He once again looked at Eddie’s slack face, and barely resisted the urge to brush his fingers along the bruised cheek. “I need you to be okay.” He said, because Buck knew one thing for certain; if Eddie wasn’t okay, he didn’t know if he could ever get over it.

The minutes ticked by one at a time the same way they always did, each one feeling longer than the last. Eventually Buck gave into temptation and laid his head against the slightly scratchy bed sheets he’d grown all too accustomed to during his own extended stays in the hospital. His eyes slipped closed and he was asleep not long after.

He awoke an undetermined amount of time later to a foreign yet strangely familiar sound.

Buck sighed tiredly, blinking the sleep from his eyes and sitting up to glance around the room in search of the source of the noise that had awoken him from his impromptu nap. His heart stuttered to a screeching halt, and all thoughts of sleep vanished immediately as he saw Eddie shifting on the bed.

Buck waited with bated breath for any sign that he wasn’t going crazy, and sure enough a couple seconds later Eddie’s face scrunched up and he groaned. Or maybe it was closer to a grunt. Whatever it was, it was new.

“Eddie?” Buck called, his voice fluttering with nervous excitement.

Eddie’s head shifted towards his voice and Buck felt his hands start to shake, he was getting a little lightheaded.

“Eddie, come on buddy, open your eyes for me.” He licked his lips, praying, “Please.”

The seconds once again felt like they were taking hours to slip by, but in actuality it didn’t take all that long for Buck’s pleas to be heard, and subsequently answered as Eddie forced his heavy eyelids open.

Concern seemed to flash briefly through those eyes as they looked at where Buck was standing over him, but any other emotions were quickly clouded by confusion. “Wha-?”

Buck felt himself sag in relief, a breathless laugh that probably bordered on manic escaping past his lips. “Oh, holy shit, Eddie. Oh my god it is good to hear your voice man.” He sighed.

“What’s happening?”

Eddie’s voice made Buck wince in sympathy, certain it hurt worse to talk than it did for him to hear it. “We can talk about it later okay? I’m gonna go get your doctor.”

And with one last glance and barely contained smile Buck turned and left the room, for the first time feeling a slight lift in his step and the budding hope that maybe, just maybe, things were finally going to be able to settle down for a while.  

If only he knew how wrong he was.

[downwiththeficness]

In the Blood-Part 2

Pairing: Brasa/ Female OC

Words: ~2,000

Warnings: None

Part One

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve

She’d been feeling odd all day, an itch under her skin that, no matter how many times she scratched, wouldn’t go away.  It feeling sat petulantly, reminding her that there was something undone. Needing a distraction, Lilah shifted as she glanced down at her phone.  Beside her, Chewie rolled his eyes.  

Lilah didn’t know what Chewie’s real name was, and she didn’t much care.  He was three hundred and fifty pounds of wrecking ball and he always came through. Reliability wasn’t always something she found in people with her line of work.  She appreciated it where she could get it.

“How’s Barb?” she asked, to pass the time, her thumb running along the edge of her phone.

Chewie smiled wide, “She’s good.  Joined this Zumba group on Thursday nights.  Gives me time with Joey.”

Lilah nodded, “He still playing baseball?”

“Nah,” Chewed replied, one hand lifting and falling with a heavy thud onto the steering wheel. “Tell you the truth, he’s not going to be a sporty kid.  He said last week he wanted to learn to play the piano.  Where the fuck am I going to get a piano that’ll fit in our apartment?”

“Could do one of those electric ones.”

He jabbed a finger at her, “That’s a good point.  Maybe for his birthday.”

Lilah glanced at her phone again, “When is that?”

“About two months out.  He’ll be ten.”

“Ah, double digits.”

Chewie scoffed, “He’ll be claiming he’s a man soon.”

She gave a soft sound of assent and turned her attention outside of the car. They were parked outside of a warehouse.  Lilah had stopped counting the number of times she’d sat outside of warehouses, waiting for some schmuck to show up.  This particular schmuck was half an hour late.  

Said schmuck pulled up in a bright, shiny sports car that had Lilah rubbing at her temples.  She looked at Chewie and then ambled out of the sensible Ford compact she’d rented for the occasion.  With a shrug, she pulled her hoodie closer, her hands falling naturally into the pockets.  Mr. Schmuck exited his too expensive car, pulling on his leather jacket to display a nice watch.  Lilah made a mental bet that it was a Rolex. These kinds of guys always wore a Rolex.

“I got a call that I’m supposed to meet somebody,” Schmuck said with a sniff.  “What the fuck am I doing here?”

Lilah stood a little ahead of Chewie.  Although she was a little above average in height, she knew what she looked like next to him.  Weak. Small. That was her intention and always was when she asked Chewie to come along with her on messenger duty.

“You owe a debt,” she announced.  “I’m here to make sure you pay up.”

Schmuck had taken a loan against the house in a casino-slash-strip club-slash-whore house.  She’d never been inside, but she’d heard things.  It was just over the border, situated in the sweet spot where regulation didn’t quite have jurisdiction.  It was the kind of place where people like her and Chewie made good money and people like the smirking schmuck in front of her got killed and dumped in a river.

“I don’t think I owe anything.  I think I squared up when I left.”

Lilah shook her head, “I can assure you, you did not.”

He eyes twinkled, “You gonna prove that, honey?”

Honey. Baby. Sweetheart. Doll. They all called her a nickname that they thought would be demeaning. She’d heard it all in one way or another.  A fixer didn’t get to the ripe old age of thirty five in this line of work without being insulted at every turn—especially a woman.  She fought the urge to laugh.

“Listen, I’ve been authorized to broker a deal for you.  I’m going to encourage you to take it.”

“Or what?”

God, did the script ever change?

“Or, you’ll end up with your legs broken.  For starters.”

Schmuck looked from her to Chewie and back.  He seemed to take a moment to contemplate his position. Then, as Lilah thought he might, he pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at her. One handed, turned to the side like every gangster movie he’d probably binged as a child. She sighed.

One hand rubbing at her temple, the other lifted and made a sharp arc in the air.  From a rooftop somewhere, a sniper took aim.  Schmuck hadn’t yet noticed.  The little red dot flashed at her, she smiled.

“You got a little something...just there,” she urged, gesturing to Schmuck’s chest.

He looked down, flinching as his free hand pressed ineffectively at his chest.

“I came prepared,” she pronounced evenly.  “Now, I want you to drop your gun, then your car keys, followed by your watch, and that nice little ring on your pinky.”

Schmuck looked at her with wild eyes.

“Or, I can go ahead and shoot you and take those things, anyways.  Your choice.”

He paused and she could see him weighing his options.  He could fire at her, but he’d probably die as well.  She didn’t have to know anything about him to know he was a coward.  It took about ten seconds before the gun dropped and he followed her directives.

“Now, start walking.  Don’t come back.”

She hoped this was enough to keep him from coming back to the bar.  People who got in too deep didn’t get this kind of opportunity.  A couple thousand in loans would turn into hundreds of thousands and nothing solved that but a body in the dirt.  

Lilah watched him wander off for a moment before leaning over to Chewie, “You think he learned his lesson?”

He shrugged, “I doubt it. Looks like a trust fund baby to me.”

“Yeah,” Lilah agreed with a nod, “They never learn.”

And they didn’t.  No matter how many times someone like Chewie beat the shit out of them, they just kept coming back.  She didn’t understand why.  They could get tits and ass anywhere.  What was it about this place that made them make such shit-tastic decisions?  

Lilah leaned into the car, looking for anything of worth.  They’d have to drive it back to Chewie’s parts shop.  His cousin did most of the work, but Chewie kept people from looking to closely at the books.  He’d been laundering money since age twelve, when he’d first started brokering in stolen merchandise.   Lilah had him do her, admittedly fake, taxes every year.

“Hey, Chewie?” She called out, looking over the open door of the coupe.  

He turned and gave a little shrug that meant ‘what?’

“You know how to drive stick?”

Later, after pulling into the garage to trade in her rental, Lilah stabbed the elevator button and turned to survey the empty lot.  She hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulders while she waited.  The evening was hot and dry.  She wanted a shower and a drink, possibly at the same time.  It had taken little to no effort to get the day’s haul completed, but she was tired.  

It was easy money, guaranteed to her bank account.  Her handler had given her at least a dozen or so of these a month for several years.  Still, she didn’t really know who was financing her.  Her brain automatically cautioned her against this line of thought.  It didn’t matter where the money came from. What mattered was that she got paid.

Movement caught her peripheral and she turned her head.  Had the lights dimmed?  It felt like the area to her right was somehow...darker.  Without taking her eyes off the shadows, Lilah reached out and pressed the elevator button again. She squinted, trying to parse the objects in the shadows.

More movement.  This time closer. She flicked her gaze to the stairs, wondering if she needed to run. Perhaps Mr. Schmuck had gotten pissed and followed her.  Wouldn’t be the first time.  Warily, she unzipped the side pocket of her pack and palmed the small pistol she kept on her for just such an occasion.

It was as if a dark fog had cleared, her vision focused on a figure standing in profile maybe twenty feet away.  He was dressed head to toe in black.  A dark leather coat hung over the broadest set of shoulders she ever seen on a man of his build.  Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest, and she suddenly felt herself transport to a dream she’d deemed the result of too much late night snacking.

As if he could hear her panic, he turned.  He was wearing a pair of gold rimmed aviators despite the fact that the sun had already set.  She took a step back, nearly falling into the open carriage of the elevator.  The doors closed and she desperately pressed the button for her floor.  From outside, a roar built, shaking the metal beneath her palms.  

Lilah alternated between watching the floors light up above her and the doors, half thinking that she’d see fingers wiggle through the tiny opening and pull them apart.  The elevator moved without preamble, jerking upwards.  She stepped back and gripped the handrail, metal biting into the meat of her palm.

When she reached her floor, she ran.  Full sprint.  Pulling her keys from her pocket, she headed for her car.  Once inside, she sped it all the way back to the hotel. Every few miles, she looked behind her, as if he might be following her.  It took until the moment when she was slamming the extra sliding lock of her room into place for her shoulders to relax just a bit.  Still, she stared at the door, half thinking he’d slam through it.

It was quiet, only the sound of the air conditioning keeping her company.  She let out the breath she was holding and pressed her hand to her forehead in relief.  It wasn’t real.  She was seeing things.  Too much stress.

Sitting on the bed, Lilah ran her hands through her hair and tried to calm herself.  It was the same man, though.  She knew it without a shadow of a doubt.  Even though the last time she’d seen him,  he’d been covered in blood, she could recognize that proud posture, the sharp nose, anywhere.  

“Get it together, McNamara,” she gritted through clenched teeth.  “You’re tired.  You’re just tired.”

Sliding to her knees, she opened the tiny fridge and pulled out a bottle of bourbon, yanking out the stopper and drinking from it.  For a long time, she just stared at the blue patterned carpet, drinking periodically.  Then, when her heart finally slowed, she picked herself up and headed for the bathroom.  

Setting the bottle on the counter, Lilah pulled off her shoes and socks, leaving them on the floor and starting the water.  While she waited for the shower to heat up, she looked at herself in the mirror.  Her makeup was a little smeared from tears she hadn’t known she had cried, her cheeks dry with them.  Irritably, she wiped away the smudges, taking another swig.  

For a moment, she continued to look at herself, her stick straight hair falling limply to her shoulders.  A bad bleach job had made her cut it short, a look she didn’t know if she liked.  She was glad it wasn’t orange, anymore—now a box brown that was a little green in certain lights.

With a huff, she pushed that strands back and started to pull at her t-shirt.  

“Querida.”

Lilah screamed and flung her body towards the closed door, another little whimper bursting forth when she was bodily pressed against it.  

He was looking at her in disbelief again, gloved hands holding her hips.  Her face was reflected clearly in the lenses of his glasses.  She looked terrified.  She felt terrified.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Before she got an answer, the lights flickered and he was gone.

[whorphydice]

The stars too they tell of spring returning- Orphydice Hadestown Fix it Fic no-one asked for

Well y’all I’m BACK With content no-one wanted. This time, 10 pages of angst filled fix it fic. Woo. 

And of course theres a baby. Why not.

Shoutout to @bakedbeans-orpheus and @hollywoodx4 who have heard my angst for DAYS about this fic and this verse. Ily guys. @hollywoodx4 deserves a ton of the credit for putting the image of the “finale with this verse” in my head. This is for you two who deal with me. 

Here goes nothing on the angst train

It’s a sad song

“Will it be okay.. Will it live, Hades?” Stone faced and teary eyed, she is unwavering as she asks. Looking him dead in the face, unblinking. “Persephone did she ever-”

“I don’t know, girl.” He shakes his head, eyes blinking from paperwork to her face and for yet another time in the months they knew each other doubt scattered across his features. “Noone has ever been born in Hadestown.”

Feelings. Emotions. Something she thought she would forget in Hadestown. Yet suddenly a wave of something like grief and fierce unyielding love washed through her. “Can I send her up with Persephone, at the end of winter, can she take her to Orpheus-”

“I don’t know, Eurydice. I don’t know.” Not knowing was a weakness, one he did not like to show. Yet this girl, she deserved the truth. And that truth was unknown. “Take care of yourself, stay off the line. We’ll go from there.” 

It’s a sad tale

Fall came and so did Persephone, who could tell things were wrong in the air. They were going to try, he was going to wait. And when he greeted her off the train with his usual kiss and a tight squeeze of her hands, she expected the worst.

“Hades what is it, what’s wrong.” 

“It’s the girl. You.. you need to see her.” He said briefly, linking his arm with hers and walking her through the town. He needed her to see his improved conditions. Changes he made for her. For them 

The workers had time off and reasonable shifts. Camaraderie on the lines. Other work, rather than just the line and the wall. Things were improving in Hadestown. 

 Improving for all but one. 

Hades stopped them infront of a small building, with a single flight up stairs up the front. “Go up. She’ll be excited to see you.

It’s a tragedy.

“Oh, honey.” Her stomach dropped the second she busted into the apartment, her bag all but dropping to her feet.

Eurydice was there, of course. Sitting in the bed, back to the wall. And like a song bird, she sang. The softest voice singing a melody of love- the very melody that brought the world back into tune. 

“Spring came for us down here too- Her name’s Ophelia.” Eurydice said, no need for prompting. “She looks like him, don’t you think?” In truth, no. Persephone could see nothing but Eurydice in the baby, from Dark hair to her nose. “She’s sleepin’ but she’s got the prettiest hazel eyes.” She cooed, not even looking at the goddess.  “And you’re gonna take her to him, if you can.”

“I- what? How old is she, darlin, I couldn’t take this little baby from her mama.” Persephone kneeled at the bedside, running a hand over Eurydice’s short hair. 

“She has to go, He’ll love her. He’ll love her more than anything. And she deserves better than this. She deserves springtimes and ice cream and her father.” She finally snapped her head up, eyes ringed with puffy red skin. Tears. How many had she shed over this little girl.  “She’s two weeks old. Ashame, really. I thought I could wait until you got down here to have her. She has her own agenda, it seemed.”

Ophelia was spring time. This happy, smiley little girl who the workers loved. Who brought Eurydice’s singing to town. She would tell persephone later, about how they banded together for her. How they took over her work for her, and helped her when she was too weak to move. 

“I didn’t think she’d make it, Seph. I felt her moving and kicking in there and I was sure.. I was so sure” Her voice broke in her throat as more tears pooled in her eyes. “Living things don’t survive in Hadestown. But here she is. An anomaly I guess.”

Anomaly. Just like her mother. And her father. 

“He’s going to love her.”

“And you don’t?” It wasn’t a question. It was just a fact. She could love her enough, Persephone believed that.

“I love her too much to keep her from him.”

It’s a sad song

“She can go, can’t she?”

“Ophelia? Yes. Most likely.” It was an unforeseen situation. But he owned everything in hadestown- and Ophelia he did not.  He sighed and looked away from her, unable to face the disappointment. “Eurydice, no. Not yet. I’m trying. I’m looking for a loophole. I can’t stomach it.”

She cut him off with a kiss, and a gentle hand on his cheek. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

He wasn’t a monster, he wanted to scream to the world. To Eurydice. To Orpheus, who saved his marriage and ended his own. 

She’s coming, poet. Give her time.

But we sing it, anyway.

The only sound at that train station were sobs. Hopeless, never ending sobs from a young woman on her knees, too weak to stand. 

“Tell her how much I love her.” She begged Persephone, as the only thing she had left to go on for was taken from her. “And him. Tell him I love him and I forgive him and that she is the most important thing to me.” It was barely coherent as it stumbled out of her mouth through gasping sobs. 

She was shaking the last time she kissed her daughter’s head, prying the baby’s fingers from around the strap of her overalls. “I love you more than spring, sunshine.” Eurydice swore, letting out another gasping sob as Ophelia reached for her, little lip quaking. She was an empathetic baby, much like her dad. She felt everything her mother did. “Give your daddy a kiss for me, yeah?” 

The train whistle blew impatiently as Persephone looked between Eurydice and the train, Ophelia becoming fussy in her arms. 

“Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?” The heartbreak ripped through everyone in the vicinity, and Persephone couldn’t help but doubt if this was the best thing for everyone involved. Eurydice, especially. 

“Please, take her. Take her.” Eurydice whimpered, wiping at her eyes. “Take her and tell her how much I will always love her.” It was harder than selling her soul and leaving Orpheus.  It was harder than anything she had ever done and would ever do again. 

Persephone offered the most sympathetic smile she could as she boarded the train, the baby in her arms whimpering loudly. “I know, honey, I know.”

Hermes locked eyes with her the second she boarded, and something caught in his throat as she locked eyes with him. “Yeah brother, it’s what you think.”

As she took the seat by the window, Ophelia banged her tiny fists against the glass. “Ma?” She asked softly, before breaking out into crocodile tears. “Ma.”

“I know darlin, your mama wants you too.”

The sight of Eurydice on her knees sobbing as the train pulled away, workers gathering to help her up, is one that will haunt Persephone forever.

The sound of screams as Eurydice said goodbye to her daughter, knowing she would never see her again, will stay with Persephone every day of her life. 

On a sunny day there was a railroad car and a lady stepping off a train

Noone was ready that day, when Persephone’s train rolled up. Dozens of people flocked to see her, to give thanks. But when the door opened, the world stood still. The crowd went silent. 

Silence, as Persephone approached the boy. The boy who hadn’t sang in months. Who’s permanent smile was replaced with something like indifference. 

“Lady Persephone, I didn’t know you had a-”

“Shh, Poet.” And in a moment, the world shifted again. The crowd remained silent, with eyes only on the poet and green clad woman in the center. Without finishing her though, she deposited the whimpering baby in his arms, pressing a hand to his face. 

“Her name is Ophelia, and her mama forgives you.” 

If he hadn’t held something so precious, he would have collapsed. He vaguely remembers his heart racing and the feeling like someone was holding him under water. 

“I...she..Eurydice?” He squeaked, arms shaking as he finally looked at the baby. Dark hair, chubby little cheeks, the sweetest little face. If Eurydice was the world in his arms, Ophelia was the universe. 

“Not yet, poet. He’s tryin’” She assured, pulling her hand from his face. “She’s a fighter, that one. She’ll come home to you.”

She couldn’t tell him, that Eurydice made her peace with never seeing her daughter again. 

Every body looked, and everybody saw that spring had come again

Orpheus sang for the first time that night. The six month old wrapped against his chest in one of Persephone’s summer scarves. He picked up a guitar and sang of love. Love for a girl far away, and love for a much smaller girl nestled safely in the crook of his arm. 

Orpheus loved easily, and Ophelia was easy to love. It took effort, to learn how to care for a baby so quickly. But with lessons from Persephone, he was doing his best. And that was what he owed Ophelia and Eurydice both. 

That first night, when he held her in his arms and paced infront of the window, a sky full of stars the only source of light. 

In his free hand was a picture, the only one he had, the only one of value. 

“Her name is Eurydice, and she loves you endlessly. And I promise, I’m not gonna fail you, i’m not gonna let you down, like I did her.”

With a love song

“She hasn’t spoken in months.” Hades told her, the second she came home that winter. “I don’t know if she has a voice anymore.”

Her singing was missed in the mines. Her joy that Ophelia brought the workers. The hope she inspired. Without Ophelia Eurydice gave up.

Eurydice had no reason to hold on to herself anymore, as far as she was concerned. 

“How is the boy? And Ophelia?” He inquired, linking arms with her yet again, as he had done a year prior. 

What he wasn’t expecting were the sounds of sobs, held back in her throat.

“He’s trying so hard, Hades. But she wasn’t ready to leave Eurydice. He’s trying so hard but winter’s coming- they aren’t going to survive a winter like this.” It was horribly poetic. Eurydice sending her daughter for a better life, only to be reunited a year later in death. 

“DO we tell her?” 

“There’s nothing she can do.”

With a love song

Hades was enraged, to say the least. 

Somewhere between a desk destroyed and papers tossed into a furnace, he found himself on the ground, palms in his eyes.

Orpheus saved the world. Brought his love back to him. And he couldn’t even do the same for him. 

It had been months since Persephone returned. Over half a year since Eurydice gave up her daughter, hope, and the will to fight. 

Days since Hermes sent the message. Orpheus was dying. He’d need a ticket. 

Somewhere between papers in the furnace and getting off of the ground, he had her called in. 

He called the girl to his destroyed office, where flames ate the papers she signed many months ago.

“You’re free to leave.”

She didn’t speak, simply looked up. And for the first time since ophelia was taken topside, he saw something in the girl spark. 

“The contract..it’s burned. Gone. Invalidated, actually. Ophelia wasn’t on the contract. She’s an extenuating circumstance. You’re free to go, if you want.” He paused. “But you need to know something.”

She knew it was too good to be true, and the way she shook in her spot revealed that. “Know what?” Her throat screamed, it was like razors sliding over the delicate folds controlling her voice. 

“The boy. He isn’t doing well. Neither is Ophelia, i’m afraid. You can go be with them, be a source of comfort if you wish. Or you can wait here, for them to arrive on the train.”

Eurydice can’t remember feeling pain when her knees met the marble, and the blood drained from her skin. “They’re dying?” She croaked out, hand grasping over her heart. 

“They’re...unwell. The weather is cruel to them. And Ophelia is just so young.. The odds are not favoring them.” There was no use in lying to her. Not now. 

“But they could make it?” She asked quietly, hope in her heart for the last time.

“They could. Should I send for a train?” It was a peace offering. A train and freedom, to get home. 

Eurydice nodded, scrambling to her feet frantically. “Mr. Hades.. Thank you. Thank you so much. For everything.” She was practically out the door when he spoke again. 

“Get to the station. And Eurydice?” She turned to face the man speaking. “Since your contact was invalid, here is back pay for all the months you worked on my line. You’re going to need it.”

With a love song

The train ride was longer than she remembered. Alone on a train out of hell gives one a lot of time to wallow. 

She thought of Orpheus, with his million watt smile and gift for words.

She thought of Ophelia, who wouldn’t know who she was.

She thought of how she would lose them both, but was acting as the comfort Orpheus deserved.

She thought of him. 

With a tale of love from long ago

The train station was empty, as one would expect for winter. 

Empty except for a man in a silver suit, with a blanket over his arm and a solemn smile on his face. 

“Girl, come on lets get out of the cold.”

He half carried her home. Months of abuse of her own body- not caring for it, not eating, not sleeping- made standing hard and walking near impossible. She leaned heavily on him for support, the winter storm around them making things somehow worse.

She decided now, to voice her fear. “How bad is it, Hermes?”

When he remained steadfast and silent, she knew better than to press on. “He’ll be happy to see you.”

He brought her home. To the house she didn’t expect Orpheus to have. He unlocked the door for her, kissing her temple before stepping away. 

“He waited for you. For this moment.”

It’s a sad song.

She limped through the house, a draft from somewhere chilling to her bones. She caught a glimpse of her reflection- she looked more like bones and paper skin than herself nowadays. Eurydice wondered to herself, what Orpheus would think, when she heard the wheezy breathing in the back room.

With apprehension, she approached the door, swallowing to lubricate her brittle throat before trying. “Orpheus?” She called out, before she limped into the room and locked eyes with him.

But we keep singing even so.

“Eurydice?” The frame under the blankets whispered out, before the sound of crying filled the room. “Eurydice...god no...I’m so sorry Eurydice.” Orpheus was lanky before. But now? Now he was broken. Thin face, lost shine in his eyes. If she hadn’t known to look for it, she never would have seen the impossibly little bundle of blankets on his chest, far too small to house the fifteen month old baby she imagined in her dreams. 

“Orpheus, it’s me… why...why are you sorry?” Eurydice climbed into the bed, taking his face in her hands frantically. 

“You’re here. That means I’m dead doesn’t it? I failed you again. I took her to protect her, you wanted me to protect her, and I failed. I failed and i’m dead and she must be dead and-”

She grabbed his hand, and placed his palm against the center of his chest. “Orpheus, honey, i’m here. I’m alive and i’m here. He let me go- it’s not important right now. What matters is i’m right here, and you’re alive.” 

Unable to wait anymore she leaned down to kiss him, the contact of his lips igniting a fire in her that had long since gone out. “I’m here, and you aren’t leaving me. I just got back, you don’t get to go yet.” Eurydice pulled his upper body into her lap, and stroked his hair, draping Hermes’ blanket over him. “We’re going to be okay.”

It’s an old song

He cried into her thigh, words of love and endless apology. Of hopeful future and the life they would share. Before long she was beside him, head on his chest listening to the steady, albeit weak heart beat.

Alive. Alive. Alive. 

They could have forever, now, so long as they made it through this winter. She was sure of it. 

Her sweet, sweet husband. And their daughter. Ophelia. 

“I know she won’t remember but Orpheus can I-” He was too far sleeping, his arms wound around her so she couldn’t disappear. 

She decided for herself, to take the little blanket wrapped bundle from his chest.

And we’re gonna sing it again and again

It was like her heart restarted in that moment, when this tiny, whimpering little girl looked at her. The whimpering, she knew, was a sign of obvious pain in her daughter, and she knew then that she’d go to hadestown and back to end her pain for her.

For a moment it felt like forever and yet no time at all had passed since she held her. She wasn’t terribly bigger, which was concerning enough. 

It was like the world fell back into tune for Eurydice alone, when she got to look at this baby she would fight the world for. “Hey sunshine, I know you don’t know who I am, but i love you more than springtime.” She cooed, holding her against her chest. Ophelia’s fingers curled around the strap of her shirt, like they had so many times when she was a new infant still. Muscle memory, she supposed. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything in there to feed you this time. I’m sorry i’m not-” Hours topside and she already felt this rush of failure. Her baby, asking for something she couldn't give anymore. 

It was a moment she’ll never forget of course, when Ophelia relaxed with her head against her heart. When her baby stopped her whimpering because she had her mother. 

When her daughter, with what little strength she had, smiled at her and just breathes out “mama” into her skin. 

Of course, Orpheus would never let her forget.

It’s a long journey out of hadestown and it’s a long journey out of the dark. Eurydice knew though, in those moments, that they could make any journey together. The three of them. 

[essaysoneverything]

to the ones I’ve loved, could have loved, and will one day love

The first boy I loved was disguised as a man. Big and tall and almost strong. He drove a car. He had a credit card. He had a name and face that people recognized. He was 18. I was 15. I was lucky. That’s what everyone told me anyways. First their eyes told me how surprised they were that I had managed to get him, and then they loudly told me not to do anything to make him leave. 

My first taste of love was tangled in a bitterness so strong it changed my tastebuds forever. I didn’t look right. I didn’t speak right. I didn’t please him well enough. “Don’t do anything to make him leave” played on a loop in my mind. He had to hurt me because I wasn’t doing it right. He had to say those disgusting words to me because I needed to hear them so I’d be better next time. He had to find other girls because I wasn’t right. There were endless other girls for him, but no one else would have me. I believed him. When I finally left, I pretended to be a woman just as he pretended to be a man. Watch me look ugly. Watch me speak loudly. Watch me sit with my feet up. Watch me please another. I spent so long pretending I was grown that when I finally woke up, I really was.

The next ones were fine. Mostly. Some whose hearts I broke, some who broke mine, and some where our hearts were never involved at all. One passed me little slips of paper with drawings of creatures that we took turns adding features to until they were a mystical mix of his imagination and mine. One drove so slowly and safely I had to stop myself from grabbing the wheel and pushing his knee down to press the gas. Another drove so recklessly I had to close my eyes and pray to a god I don’t even know exists. One I danced with so wildly and made me laugh harder than anyone else ever has. One asked for a mixed CD he made me as a birthday gift back when we broke up. One insisted I was the only one in the world who could heal him so he flew to me, slept on my couch for a week, cried on my shoulder over his new girlfriend and left me $17.50 with a note saying “you’re the realest. See you when I see you” beside a wet towel and a pile of dirty sheets on my couch. One I thought for sure I could sip hibiscus tea on the edge of that creek putting flowers in his hair and listening to him read Irish poetry for the rest of my life.

One man I once imagined myself falling in love with feels more like a dream than a memory now. It’s hard to decipher what was real and what my brain has created trying to protect me. He had the soul of a 1940s French novelist in a fresh young body. His skin was always warm to the touch. He was a gentleman. Or at least he had the genuine intention of one day being one. The name of his cologne matched perfectly to who he was. I forget what it was called now, but it was something mysterious and sexy and sneaky. I think he saw me as exactly who I want to be. At first anyway. An artist. An empath. Someone passionate. Someone who works hard. I felt magical and beautiful around him. Comfortable. At first anyway. He was as close to the human embodiment of Icarus as anyone I have ever met. I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach him. Sometimes my arms weren’t long enough to pull him back down to me. My hands burnt from the hot wax dripping from his wings. Every word he spoke had just a hint of the lingering melody from the language spoken where he was born. It was like pure, warm honey in my ears. Romance that I had only read about. He really was one of the most beautiful things I have ever felt. 

I pretended not to notice when I saw his phone light up with tiny red hearts as he half-drunkenly snuck away from me. The air left my lungs when I felt him silently decide that he wanted to go home to her that night. It was a deafening shift. My body stung in the way that only happens when your blood doesn't know where to go to heal you first, so it floods everywhere all at once and sets you on fire from the inside. In that moment, I was standing completely alone in that crowded room, a thousand miles from him or anyone else. I was so embarrassed. I barely knew him, I should’t have cared so much, but I did. He never promised me I’d be his only one. He never promised me anything in fact, I knew that but I ignored that truth and let my hunger for him take over. We played pretend with each other for one more day after that. We are both terrible liars. By the time I turned around to pick a fig to feed him, he was gone and the heaviness of the truth finally soaked all the way through my bones.

He wasn’t gentle with my heart in the way his soft voice suggested he would be or how I imagine he wants to be someday. Maybe he is with other women. The end was cold and quick and then completely silent. Just as he had entered my life, quickly and surprisingly, he left in the exact same way. Knowing that while I was thinking about him, he was thinking about her stung for a long time. We were living in completely different cosmic realms in the same moments. When my six year old student asked me why my smile looked different, I told him I was sick of the rain. I am a terrible liar. 

I suspect I was only a soft place to land. An open ear and a body that was “different” as he called it. A temporary escape from reality. Something to tide him over. I am often the gentleness that people want a taste of. They drink me in until they are drunk on my tenderness and are freshly untangled, ready to leave again. I know this is innate in me and I like knowing that I exude the feeling of a safe shelter, but I am working on not letting that be my only identity anymore. I can’t be a home for tangled pain belonging to people who only intend on being strangers. For the ones I adore, I will untangle forever. 

It took time to forgive myself (and silently ask for forgiveness from him) for building him up to be someone made of pure gold. Someone beyond impossible for anyone to ever live up to. To acknowledge that I saw his eyes as mirrors showing me exactly what I wished to see instead of what was real. To hear words and believe them to be true. To relearn how to trust myself to trust again. To understand that is it okay not to be chosen. To understand that the solidity of roots sometimes outweighs the enchantment of the fleeting petals. 

I sometimes wonder if he ever thinks about me. If he does, I wonder what he remembers? I wonder what impression I left on him, or if I really did at all. Enough to float back down to me in the summertime and cover me in kisses and ‘I miss yous’ for a brief and blissful moment. Enough that feeling his warm, sun kissed skin and tasting his lips, salty from the ocean, instantly put a tiny crack in my freshly healed heart. He gave me an out but I didn’t take it. I wanted to see if it could be different this time. I could tell by the way he touched my eyelashes that he missed me. He asked me what I was thinking about before he kissed me. His lips were on mine before I could answer. A life jacket made of ice.

When I turned around to watch him wave to me as I walked down that forest path, barefoot, paint still wet, I knew that as much as I wished it wasn’t true, he was gone again. I could just feel it. I didn’t make the cut again. The drive was too long. The city was too much. He said everything felt dreamy. I meant him and he meant everything but me. The same flooding fire burned inside me when I had to force my frozen fingers to send him a note asking him not to drift back to me unless he felt sure of what he was able to bring to a connection with me. I finally know my worth and the level of respect and effort I deserve from the people in my life. I need connection rooted in friendship and trust where I am never afraid that every time will be the last. That every kiss will be the last. Every word will be the final one. 

I will never convince or plead for anyone to come back to me (no matter the depth of my want to) because I can only fight for what fights for me now. Whether in friendship or lust or love or anything else, I can only yearn for what yearns for me. I have spent countless hours pining for apathetic souls in my lifetime. I wont do that to myself again. 

I still think about him once in a while. I hope he will always keep his beautiful, dreamy, spontaneous, sparkling eyed passion. Maybe I’ll see him again one day and we’ll meet as the gentleman and gentlewoman we both aspired to be when we first met. Or maybe the universe only brought him to me as the embodiment of important lesson I needed to learn.

The next person I love will bring me apricots or plums or cherries from their trees and tell me truths and make me laugh and walk on uneven sand for me. They will be steadfast and present. I will be the same for them. We will untangle each other, equally. No need to convince. No need to plead. No need to tether. Just sun soaked sweetness. Rooted.

[antagonisms]

BASICS

Name: Evan Czarnecki

Gender & pronouns: cis male, he/him

Species: werewolf

Age: 27. Jokes about being 63, because he was a wolf for 6 years, which is 42 dog years + those 21 normal human years. Either way, age is a really weird concept now.

PERSONALITY

Traits: Pretends to be flippant to put the world at a distance. Vulgar as a means of distancing himself from genuine vulnerability. Perceptive, but won’t let you know that. More self-aware than he lets on. Self-absorbed. Self-destructive. Loves being seen, hates being known.

Moral alignment / MBTI / enneagram: Chaotic neutral. INTP-A. 5w6.

Values: In other people, he likes independence, open-mindedness, the ability to dress well, a lack of tolerance for bullshit, genuine altruism, and resilience.

Flaws: Judgmental. Narcissistic as a defense mechanism. Occasionally rude, but mostly just cheeky. Not a team player. Reckless. Hedonistic. The brokest bitch in Blackrock.

HISTORY 

( shorter version is in the app. i just like details. trigger warnings for child abuse and sex as self harm.)

1) CHILDHOOD

You had a family, once. Your mother’s a piano teacher and your father is — you don’t know, really, but he’s got enough old money to buy nice things even if he’s stingy on principle. He’s polite, and she’s funny, and your fellow patrons at Sunday Mass love all three of you because you’re down-to-earth, surface-level beautiful — a perfect American family.

But they don’t know what happens inside the too-big house at the foot of the mountain. Your mother’s a pessimist, and your father’s a sniveling piece of shit who copes with his worthlessness by making everybody feel small. He’s kinda good at it. They’re both as loud as they are erratic and it’s all a matter of bracing yourself for when the floor inevitably falls through. You make do, mostly. You hide in your room. You lock the door. You put your ears behind headphones. You drown out their screaming matches and your too-loud mind. 

It all falls apart when Mommy decides she hates Daddy more than she loves you. No goodbye. No explanation. She just leaves. 

Her departure plants a lesson you will later find impossible to uproot: love is earned, Evan, you’re not working hard enough. At least your father stayed. At least he sometimes loved you. At least, you think so. He might have loved you when he took you fishing, or gave you that book you really liked, or when he buys you clothes that look really nice. You flip through your mother’s old sheet music and fumble through the piano keys, and you think he might love you when he watches you fill this house with her memory without saying anything.

But mostly, he’s not very kind. You don’t want to think about it anymore.

2) ADOLESCENCE

You inherit your mother’s cynicism and your father’s stingy heart. The skill you develop is as much a sense of humor as it is a safety net. If life’s a joke, beat it to the punchline. By the time you’re fifteen, you can no longer pretend that your world is worth saving. You keep it at arm’s length. Your mind makes a mockery of the darkness to keep its jaws at a distance, because if you couldn’t do that, your pitch-black pessimism would swallow you whole.

Growing up feels less like maturing and more like mutating. By the time you’re sixteen, you stop feigning perfection to earn the affection of a father who’s heart is colder than your Blackrock winter. Popular misconception claims control is a word you never learned, but that’s just what you let everyone think. The truth is: control is a lesson you pried out of your body when the need for acceptance evolved into a need to rebel. You’re an embarrassment, Evan. Adolescence meant insurrection. You’re a failure of a son. Pills and booze and boys and girls biting the hand that hit him. Your heart is a bullet and your mouth is a shotgun and you will make yourself repulsive if the alternative is admitting that — Evan, I wish you knew how difficult it is to love you.

You only apply yourself when it matters. You get into Stanford. You take a loan. You don’t let your father pay for tuition, because you’re not letting him control your life anymore. You leave your tar pit town the way your mother did, and it’s only a matter of time before your goodbye is permanent. 

It gets better as much as it gets worse. You leave home, but home doesn’t really leave you, and you don’t recognize your body when it’s not in pain. You’re beautiful, though. People see you and want to make you theirs. You let it happen. Too-rough hands salve the ghosts of bruises your father left you. This is the ugliest way of putting it: you feel damaged. Every person you kiss has too-sharp teeth, and maybe that’s exactly how you want it, because if this body doesn’t feel like it belongs to you, then offer it up in a way that feels good.

You always leave first. You love much how it tears them apart. This is your inheritance: your Momma’s love of leaving, and your Daddy’s stingy, stingy heart.

3) THE BITE

Unlike your mother, you tried to come back. Your father called one night, asking if you wanted to return for Christmas, and the small, stupid flicker of hope that your pessimism couldn’t kill begged that you give him a chance.

He didn’t change. He argues about the degree you’re taking with the money you don’t have and insists on carving a future for you, his way. He doesn’t like your independence. He doesn’t like your protests. Your fights are explosive until they aren’t, until a raised fist reminds you exactly what violence he’s capable of.

At least he sometimes loves you. Maybe he loved you when he picked your wounded body up, carried you out of the woods, and bandaged up bite on your side. Maybe he loved you when he brought medicine to your room, and maybe he loved you when made you chicken soup just the way you liked it, even when you didn’t ask. Maybe he loved you when he sat by the side of your bed, and talked about his father, and his father’s father, and how none of them really knew how to grow up without making their sons feel small.

But the fever is strange. A new kind of anger tears out whatever capacity for forgiveness you might have had. Your bones are changing. Something wretched twists and grows inside you, and with a hot flash of pain, you’re something new entirely.

You have one last coherent thought before the wild takes your mind completely.

I have to kill him. So you do. 

3.5) THE THINGS YOU DON’T KNOW

The news of your father’s death spreads like wildfire in Blackrock. It’s not your father’s mangled body that causes intrigue, it’s your disappearance. Wolf attacks, while uncommon, aren’t exactly rare, and everyone’s heard the folktales. Neighbors assure that you were there during the evidence, but the police find no evidence of carnage, not a pound of flesh nor drop of blood to support the fearful need to conclude that there’s nothing supernatural about this. You can’t prove the Czarnecki kid isn’t a werewolf, the gossipers say. Nobody can even prove that he’s dead.

4) WOLF-HOOD

You don’t know what strange circumstance landed you in your new body, but maybe you don’t care. Maybe the bite and the fever killed you, and the Buddhists were right. You don’t really know if you earned enough good karma to deserve this reincarnated form, but either way, you’re never letting it go. You hunt deer. You roll around in the snow. You snarl at any predator that dares to get near, and bite the ones that move into your space without permission. Sometimes you walk into the backyards of strangers and wait for children who aren’t afraid to try and approach you. You don’t eat them, because just because you’re a monster now doesn’t mean you don’t have principles.

You lie down. You let them rub your belly.

It’s a really nice life.

5) NOW

Six years after you thought you died, a woman drags you out of the woods you back into your body. Even a lifetime of pain couldn’t prepare you for the shift back. New bones tear your animal flesh apart, piercing your skin open to make room for your wretched old body. It aches in too many ways. The people — the wolves — the ones who did this to you, they tell you this is your home now.

So it wasn’t Buddhism. Maybe it’s the Catholics who’re right; eternal damnation does await the unrepentant sinner, and it looks like this: you’re here, trapped in a frat house for furries, without a  cellphone, a car, or clothes of your own, or money to pay a doctor to confirm whether or not you’d acquired a tapeworm.

You realize you owe Stanford 213,000 dollars.

You are a very tired wolf.

TLDR:

Evan has a bad childhood. He becomes a wolf. He kills his father. He mistakes lycanthropy for reincarnation and lives in wolf-nirvana for six whole years. You drag him out of nirvana. The realization that he didn’t actually die puts him in a terrible mood. 

CONNECTIONS 

( So uhhh I wrote up possible prompts for the existing werewolf skeletons before I knew what anyone was like and I think they can be good jumping points! If you don’t feel this fits your character, or if you want a different sort of dynamic, just message me! )

1) WOLVES (AND BITTEN HUMAN)

ALDER: You’ve seen him at his ugliest — a small, scared creature writhing on the floor, that horrific cross between a howl and a screech leaving his shifting throat. Now there’s a flare of red-hot resentment in his eyes whenever he looks at you, and it makes you wonder if he’s more monstrous as a human than he is a beast. You saved him from death. You realize you cannot save him from life. He’ll never forgive you for that.

HEMLOCK: You are a bootlicker and he does not like you.

HICKORY: It’s not your job to keep the feral wolf in line, but your brother seems to resent whatever circumstance it was that landed him the role of mongrel babysitter. Consider picking up the slack. The guy’s only half-terrible — sullen and strange but mostly manageable, and maybe earning his trust is only a matter of affording him the patience that nobody else wants to offer. If it’s an opportunity to prove this pack your worth, try taking it.

MAPLE: You’ve worked too hard to protect this pack, to earn your position. Now your lot has dragged some feral creature out of the woods, offered him their home, their humanity, and still, he has the nerve to be ungrateful. He makes it clear that he doesn’t trust you. He makes it even clearer that you cannot trust him. Maybe the demons in your head are concussed, but the new demon in your home now insists on giving you a migraine. 

PINE: You are a mirror of lost days. You are the young flighty creature he once was and can never become again. Home is a word you might have both forgotten, but circumstance has offered you both a new roof over your heads, and a family to go with it. Maybe these similarities should draw you closer, but there’s a glimmer of resentment in his eyes whenever he looks at you. You don’t know why it’s there. It could be pity. It might be envy. It must be grief. 

OAK: He had a father, once, and that shit didn’t end well. For some reason, he sees it fit to pass some unearned blame on you, and now years of buried resentment are yours to bear. Family’s a broken word, he seems to think, but you cannot let him break yours. Still, it’s evident that he lacks the capacity to be as self-sufficient as he’d like, and as long as that’s true, it’s your thumb he’ll be under. You know he needs you. Offer an open hand, or pull the leash tighter. The choice is yours.

REDCEDAR: He shows up at the bookstore to read a new title of Animorphs every other day and you don’t know how that makes you feel.

WILLOW: He might take more kindly to you than he does the others. You’re both new to a home you’re not sure will ever welcome you, and more importantly, you both wanted this. The bite. This beastliness. The difference is that he’s certain. Your condition is a new part of yourself that you have yet to fully love, but he seems to think he can teach you. Man and beast are equally monstrous, he tries to convince you. So let’s be the kind with bigger teeth.

2) OPEN CONNECTIONS

( Open to humans ) has taken an interest in the Czarnecki Werewolf Conspiracy. They’re familiar with the incident — a dead father, a missing son, and the wolf that allegedly kill them both. All the facts line up too neatly, and when somebody who looks to be the ghost of one Evan Czarnecki returns to haunt the streets of Blackrock, they think it’s finally time they get some answers.

( Open to humans ) once knew Evan. Yeah, the kid who always got straight A’s and played piano for Catholic mass? What the actual shit happened to him? They’re watched Evan go from familiar face to murder case overnight, but now, the town recluses have found a new adoptee — and he’s the splitting image of the boy they once knew. Maybe it’s time to reconnect.

3) VAGUE CONCEPTS

he uhhhh (spins wheel) flirted with ( open ) at last drop for free drinks and then realized that spending six years as a wolf made him de-acquire the taste of liquor and now he’s having a crisis

( open ) tells him he needs therapy. evan laughs

this is actually very hard he’s so unsociable

jsut message me... we’ll think of something

[rogers-metaphor]

Lessons in Falling in Love: Chapter Eleven

Permanent warning/disclaimer:  this will be a story that contains smut, will have cursing, and other themes like these. So, if you’re under the age of 18, please skip this story. Also, everything in this story is completely fictional and not based on real life!!!!!!!! It’s for dramatic and entertainment purposes only.

A/N: I hope you’re all enjoying this story still!! I love to hear your feedback!!! Also let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I’ve added people that have made comments or asked! so feel free to ask!!!

previous chapters: One, Two, Three , Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

my masterlist

The next time she wakes up, Ben isn’t there. It’s clear that it’s the next day, but it’s not sunny. Someone had tucked her in. She slept like a rock, but still woke up exhausted. She felt drained. Her phone was plugged in away from her bed and she debated on reaching for it. She felt too tired to reach for it, but she was curious.

There were endless missed calls and texts from Joe. She wanted to know what he had to say, but couldn’t stand to hear his voice. She read through a few

texts but couldn’t get any further.

I’m Sorry.

Please talk to me.

I love you..

She scoffed, her eyes burning. Everything from the night before came flooding back and she tossed her phone away from her. Of course she wanted to reach out to him, talk to him, and to feel better. Maybe he really was sorry.

Her door opened.

Nova peaked in and once she seen Selene was awake, she made her way toward the bed.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, sitting beside her.

“Sad.” Selene sighs, “Dumb.”

“It’s not you. It’s him.”

Silence. Selene couldn’t help but think she should have been able to see it. All the red flags were ignored because she loved him and trusted him to love her back. She should have known and she didn’t.

“I’m tired.” Selene sighs, tears threatening to peak.

“I already got all your shifts covered for the week… and I can bring you food.” Nova tries. Selene just nods, rolling back into her pillow. “Ben asked how you were. He was really concerned.” she tries some more. “He really pushed to come sit with you last night.”

“Tell him i’m fine.” Selene says flatly.

“I will.” Nova says, at a loss. She hates that Selene feels this way, but doesn’t know what to do to help. “Let me know if you need anything…” She reluctantly walks away.

The mood for the next week is about the same. Selene barely ate, barely listened to music, barely talked about what happened or Joe. Everything seemed to be a cruel reminder of his existence. Her favorite foods only brought back memories of them sharing meals together. Her favorite songs only sounded like he was singing in the background. She couldn’t talk about him despite the constant thoughts of him flooding her brain at every chance. Even when she slept he’d be there, holding her hand or kissing her cheek in her dreams.

At the end of the week, she was surprised when Ben made his way over. Though she had been struggling to take care of herself, this was the day she decided to take a shower and refresh her room. He came right when she finished and even brought her a coffee.

“Nova told me your favorite.” he offered her a smile and she sighed, giving him the best smile she could. Though weak, it was something.

“Thank you.” she said, sitting down on the couch. “What brings you here?” she asks, “Gwil isn’t here.”

“I came here for you. To see how you were doing, and see if you wanted to go somewhere with me.” Selene knitted her brows, confused as to why ben would want to come see her.

“I can’t. Nova and I are-“ he cuts her off.

“Have you checked your phone?” he asks, a mischievous grin across his features. She jumped up and rushed to get her phone. She had been avoiding it, though Joe stopped trying halfway through the week. She did have a missed call and a text from Nova.

Have to cancel our plans, Gwil is very insistent I go with him to this dumb dinner. Seems important. Anyway, I’m not leaving you alone. Ben said he wanted to see you anyway. He said he wants to take you somewhere.

The whole thing felt like a setup, but she knew she needed to do something with someone or she’d be alone. She sighed and made her way back to Ben sitting on the couch.

“Okay.” she says, “Where are you taking me?”

…

“This isn’t a date.” she says, in the car that’s quiet beside for Ben’s radio. “I just got cheated on and i’m not ready-“

Ben’s quiet chuckle makes her stop her ranting, she doesn’t feeling awkward, but besides for the night she got drunk with him, she doesn’t know him all that well. The scary part is she does feel comfortable with him, just unsure of what to do. Ben was very attractive. Sweet and kind. It was clear as day she was attracted to him, but at the end of the day, Joe was the man she loved.

“Love, I’m sorry to say, this isn’t a date.” She flushes red with embarrassment. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Sorry.” she sighs.

“We can make it a date. You’ll just have to buy me dinner.” He offers her a smile as he jumps out of the car, and this time she smiles more naturally. Not having to force it.

They make their way toward the building and she follows closely behind Ben as they enter.

“I know you’ve been feeling all kinds of emotions.” he says to her, “The hardest one to get out without murder, is anger. So, i thought i could take you here, and you can smash some things.” She marveled at the idea and the concept and how truly thoughtful is was. And she lit up in excitement as they signed forms and got ready to smash some things.

The room was filled with all kinds of items to smash and tools to use and with every swing of a bat to glass she did feel the anger flowing away. She was laughing and Ben looked on with pride in his eyes. He smiled and laughed along with her, even helped her destroy some things.

but then, the glass started to feel like her own heart, shattering into a million pieces. She felt it burn in her chest as she swung harder, trying to make the pain vanish. The memories of him scattered across her brain reflected in glass strewn about the floor. She could see it all so clearly. The way his hands felt against her skin, the way his laughter mixed with hers in a crowded space, the way he kissed her softly in the mornings before he knew she was even awake. She swung and hit until her arms were heavy and sore.

and then she started to cry.

It came out in heavy sobs. Blubbering as her vision went blurry, her heart sinking low in her stomach. She dropped the bat through trembling fingers and as she goes to run away, she runs right into a hard body. Ben is there, grabbing her into his arms and holding her. It’s a comfort she needed. She tried to calm her breathing from hitching violently. She could hear Ben’s heart pounding rapidly as she stayed pressed against his chest. His arms were strong, warm, comforting. She could feel a hand running up and down her back gently. She felt at ease and peaceful, even after crying so hard.

After that, they left.

In silence. Mostly, Selene felt a little embarrassed for the second time that night.

“I’m sorry about that.” she says, timid. Her eyes still sorry and still tearing up, spilling over.

“You never have to apologize for the way you’re feeling.” Ben says. His deep voice is reassuring and calm. “Never. Not with me. This is why i brought you here. I wanted you to have that release. I know you needed it.”

“Thank you.” she says, “For everything. Including spending your night on New Year’s eve watching me cry.”

“I had a great time, are you crazy? Sitting in a silent room on the biggest party night of the year?” he smirks after being sarcastic. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” he says, sincerely.

“I appreciate it.” She sighs. She lets a few minutes pass before she asks. “Ben, where do I go from here?” quietly. Her eyes scanning him for any answer he could give her. Any wisdom he could gift.

“That depends on you.” he says.

“What did you do?” she asks, and watches his face for reaction. He doesn’t seem like it bothers him to talk about it. His lips pout as he ponders.

“I was very stupid.” he shrugs. “Got drunk a lot. Slept around with many girls. It didn’t help though. It made it worse. I think it drew it out longer.” she watches his fingers trace over his lips, thoughtlessly, as he seems to gaze back into the past. “I still ended up lonely in bed at the end of the night, even with a girl next to me.” he trails off. She was enjoying him being so open with her. She smiled to herself again.

“I hate sleeping alone.” she groans.

“You should learn to enjoy it.” he chuckles. “All that space.”

“I’ll never enjoy it.” she says, and they both laugh.

Ben and Selene stop and get sushi on the way back to her place. They argue over who is going to pay. Selene felt like she owed Ben. She was soon reminded that she’d pay if she considered it a date. She groaned and said she’d pay for her own, though Ben slipped his card into the hands of the waiter and paid for both of their dinners.

Things were easy. The conversation flowed casually like they had known each other for ages. He talked about how he and Gwil met in college and had been friends ever since. Selene shared her love story about her and Nova and gushed about how much she loved Nova more than anything. She found herself laughing, truly laughing.

Though her night was the best it’s been, she couldn’t wait to end it the same way she always did, with her best friend, Nova. She is met with someone else, as they pull in front of her house. Every inch of progress she made seemed to have went down the drain when she saw him, sitting on her porch. She swallowed hard as she struggled on what to do next. She looks to Ben for help.

“You want me to get rid of him?” Ben asks, glaring at Joe. She shakes her head, sighing.

“I do want you to come in. I’m sure Gwil wants to see you.” she says, a voice so low she wasn’t sure if she had actually formed words. He nods, watching as her hands shake to open the car door.

“I’ll be right behind you.” Ben says, and she nods. She feels safe, confident, even brave.

She folds her arms as she gets up to him.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her eyes unable to look at him. She fidgets, looking away. Toward anywhere else.

“You wouldn’t return any of my phone calls or texts.” he says, standing up. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m fine, Joe.” she snaps, “So you can go.”

“You won’t even look at me…” he says, his voice is timid and soft. “I’m still Joe. The Joe that loves you. I fucked up and I want to make it better but you won’t let me.”

“I don’t know who that person is anymore.” her words leave her lips faster than she could stop them, but she means them. She’s not doing it to strike back at him or to make him feel bad. She’s doing it because that’s what she feels. “And I’m not ready to talk to you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, but i’m not now, so please go.” she begs, because standing in front of him is hard.

A big part of her doesn’t want him to go. She wants him to protest and stay and hold her and make her feel better. She knew that wasn’t plausible. It wasn’t that simple. She wants to yell at him and cry but fall in his arms. She wants to forget. But she can’t. So she begs him again.

“Please… go.” she says through gritted teeth. Her eyes beginning to water once again. He opens his mouth to protest but instead, Ben cuts him off.

“She asked you to go, mate. I think it’s time to go.” his voice is defensive. It sends a shiver through Selene as Joe tilts his head to the side, glaring.

“This doesn’t concern you.” Joe snaps. “I’ll go because she asked me too, but you don’t tell me what to do.” Ben scoffs and chuckles.

“It does concern me when you have my friend crying. Again.” he emphasizes. Joe opens his mouth to come back at him but Selene snaps her head up at him.

“Joe, go. Ben, let’s go.” she snaps. They both glare at one another once more before Ben starts to head into her house. Joe walks in the direction of his house turning back to look at Selene one last time.

She pretends that she doesn’t want to run to him in that moment, and pushes herself inside.

Where she finds Nova and Gwil hot and heavy on the couch.

“WOAH!” Selene’s mood shifts as she’s in shock when she finds this. “This is very much my character but yours!?” she laughs, as they fumble to get themselves together. Ben joins in at their red faced friends.

And then Nova flashes it. If Selene hadn’t been obsessed with Nova getting married since she told her, she would have missed it. The bright ruby stone was shiny as Nova brought it closer to Selene who was in shock.

“This ASSHOLE!” Nova says, explaining, “Made me meet with my parents and him for dinner, and this IDIOT got on one knee and ASKED ME TO MARRY HIM!” she’s talking fast, and yelling. She’s full of excitement and clearly shocked herself. Gwil is laughing and nodding as she goes on.

“I’m so happy for you!” Selene starts to cry, for the third time that night. This time, it was happy tears. She hugged Nova tightly as they began screaming.

“You know this means I’ll need some groomsmen.” Gwil says walking over to Ben who shakes his hand firmly, and then hugs him tightly.

“Congrats man!” Ben smiles.

“And you. You’re my maid of honor obviously!” Nova says.

“I have to start planning now.” Selene says, “No time to waste.” they all laugh.

After a few drinks and more talking and laughter Ben Selene ends up walking him outside. She had a good night. She even brushed off what happened with Joe to the side of her mind. She stood in front of him, folding her arms.

“Thank you again.” she said. “For dinner. The smashing. I owe you one.”

“You could buy me a birthday present.” he says. “Though that was last week, but my party is next saturday. Come.” Selene giggles.

“Okay.” she nods, “Deal.”

“Good.” he says, “You know if this was a first date, I’d try and kiss you now.”

“But it’s not.” She laughs, “So I’ll take a hug.”

“Worth a shot.” he chuckles, opening his arms and taking her in. His grip is tight and strong and she hums against him, without being able to stop herself.

“Goodnight, Ben.” she says, when she heads away from him.

Truth be told she wouldn’t have minded the kiss from Ben. She would have loved to feel his perfect pouty lips against hers, just to forget about what Joe’s felt like. To feel anything else other than traces of Joe left on her skin. She had to settle for clean bed sheets, and a half empty bed.

.......

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