#i used to also love to run. literally would do a full marathon in distance every day practically

[martyrbat]

special loving shout-out to people who had to give up a hobby, passion, or dream because of their disability/disabilities. its okay to feel disappointed or angry you cant do the things you want to do & i love you all and hope you find the same happiness and comfort in other things soon.

[mourntheantagonist]

hc that Billy comes to love bath bombs after Starcourt. He starts keeping some at Steve's house and some at home. He finds they help a lot when he's having a really hard time either with physical pain from his injuries or just when he's struggling mentally.

don’t mind me absolutely going off below. idk how this turned into a full fledged one shot but I hope you enjoy it anon because your mind is so amazing.

———

I can imagine billy at home for one of the first few nights and he decides to take a bath because he still can’t really stand up too well on his own. when he walks in there’s a little bag on the counter that has his name written on it. Inside is this yellow sphere wrapped in plastic. he reads the label and follows the instructions and is stunned when the water starts to turn yellow and the scent of lemon fills the bathroom.

the scent is very calming, and considering he’s been on edge ever since he stepped back through the doors of his home, it’s a welcome feeling. when he gets in the water he’s surprised to notice the change of viscosity in the water. It’s slightly slimy but it feels really relaxing.

when he gets out of the tub after soaking for a while he feels for the first time since everything happened to be cleansed of the mindflayer. not entirely. but lingering hints to the scent of lemon make him feel clean and light and just a little less like a monster. no monster smells this good.

later that day max asked if he liked the bath bomb. for a split second he’s stuck on the word bomb until he figures out what she’s talking about.

“yeah. smelled good. thanks.” he’s still struggling to open up but he’s getting better about letting down his defenses, at least to max. part of letting down his defenses caused him to only be able to speak in one to two word sentences.

max understands though. and she appreciates not having to constantly walk on eggshells around him anymore. or at least not in the same way. instead being more concerned for scaring him rather than the other way around.

a couple days later he finds a box filled with twelve additional scents and colors and effects on his bed. he smiles. max.

she continues to restock for him as he cycles through each kind. his favorites are vanilla and lavendar and also the lemon. something about it makes his thoughts slow and his aches numb and he’s almost addicted to the feeling.

although it doesn’t last long because one day neil calls him out on it. asks him why he ‘smells like a faggot’. billy is initially able to say he used one of max’s soaps because he ran out, but that won’t fly for long. he eventually stops using them and lets the little collection he’s gathered sit under the sink in the bathroom to collect dust.

then he starts spending more time with steve. just needing to get out of his own house and out of his own bed for just a couple hours of the day he goes over to steve’s when he’s not at work. steve is constantly telling billy he enjoys his company but billy continues to apologize for burdening him. he’s not used to people just caring, and it’s especially foreign coming from steve for several reasons. one being that less than a year prior he nearly put him in the hospital. the second being that steve was a man, and there has never been a man in his life to actually care about him in that way. worried for his safety and well being. so billy tried to pull away, because he wasn’t going to allow him to let someone in just to be turned away at the door a second later.

but steve gets absolutely sick of it. sick of billy pulling away and believing he’s undeserving so steve practically forced him to believe it by kissing him the very next time he walks through the door. a very risky act on his part but he’s grown to trust billy over time that he’s not as worried as he could be for the outcome. he’s relieved when billy kisses him back, dropping a duffle bag to the floor that went completely unnoticed by steve as he was too locked in on billy’s lips. too locked in to notice the black eye that he only spotted when they pulled apart. too enthralled with the fact that he was kissing billy to taste the blood in his mouth. he’d ran away this time. he packed a bag and left and hoped steve would take him in. being met with a kiss right off the bat was the best thing that could have happened when steve opened that door. like the huge favor he was about to ask for almost became a small request because steve was inviting him into more than just his home. the kiss was an invitation into his life, and invitation for his care and love and all the mushy gushy stuff.

“I need a place to stay.”

steve, obviously and literally, welcomes billy into his home with open arms. immediately taking him to the bathroom to fix up the damage his father inflicted. steve kneeling before him while he sits on the toilet seat in complete silence. acting as if they didn’t have each other’s tongues down their throat just moments ago. both of them deciding it wasn’t the best time to talk about it. billy looked absolutely exhausted and worn and desperately needed sleep, and a nice bath (I know I just veered way off course but back to the regularly scheduled programming).

it was actually steve’s suggestion. noting the aches in his legs and back would probably be happy to be submerged under hot water. steve runs him the bath and goes to grab billy’s duffle upon request. steve gives him a soft kiss to the top of his head, before he leaves telling him they can talk about everything in the morning, and for him to just relax and take his time.

billy rummages for the small box he remembered to pack that’s filled with all the fun scents that max had been gifting him, after having to switch to using unscented alternatives which were nice but didn’t give him that same feeling.

he quickly picks out the cotton candy scented one that he’s been dying to try out. because what does cotton candy even smell like? he drops the bath bomb into the water and watches as it sizzles and quickly turns the water pink. oh if neil were there to see his sun soaking in a tub filled with pink water smelling like a fucking candy shop owner he’d do more damage than what had been inflicted earlier that night.

despite the developing bruises all over his body and the sting as the contents of the bath bomb filled his open wounds, he hadn’t felt this good in months. physically he felt like shit. but he was mentally and emotionally euphoric. running off the high from just minutes ago having steve harrington’s lips on his. the boy he believed to have been so far out of reach and was happy enough to just appreciate from afar. it felt unreal and like it was a dream. all that combined with the surprisingly intoxicatingly amazing aroma filling his senses and the feeling of rejoice as he finally took the steps to leave the clutches of his abuser and was so much more than successful. it was sheer bliss accompanied by aches and pains from past and present inflictions that didn’t seem so bad anymore.

steve and billy sleep in the same bed that night. they don’t cuddle or even so much as let limb touch limb, still unsure of the boundaries. but even with the distance between them steve can smell the unfamiliar candy like scent and takes it all in.

when they wake up in the morning they talk everything over during breakfast. billy tells him how his father just came home and started pounding into him completely unprompted. shouting slurs at him. the smell of whiskey potent on his breath. billy truly knew then that it was no longer about what he did or did not do. he’d feel his wrath regardless. and steve had scolded him about self preservation before and finally decided to take his advice.

then they adress the even larger elephant in the room, their kiss. it’s not that they were avoiding the topic per se, but they were definitely afraid to abandon this good feeling by talking about it. but they bite the bullet anyway, and they don’t regret that they do. despite how uncomfortable it is for billy to talk open about his feelings, especially these kinds of feelings, he feels something inside him release at the confession. like everything he was holding inside of him is free to the open air and steve takes hold of it and cherishes it.

their little unspoken thing that has been developing over the course of a few months finally being spoken. finally giving a name to the meaning to it all. of their late at night trips to the quarry. sharing a joint as they stare at the water below as it reflects the night sky. of their movie marathons on steve’s living room couch. giving meaning to each individual brush of the knee under the shared blanket. of stolen glances and words said under their breath. of thoughts of the other invading their dreams at night. a name to it all.

it’s a strange adjustment. to go from two guys secretly pining over each other from afar to instantaneously dating and living together. sharing a bed together, sharing meals together. things they were so used to doing alone now having a guest. it was nice and strange at the same time but they both welcomed it. waking up under the warmth of another human being. getting to see each other at their worst, when they were riddled with bed head and morning breath, and loving each other all the same.

what they did in bed wasn’t fucking. screwing. banging. it was much more. it was unfair to use those words that once described their previous encounters to describe what they did with each other. it was much different. putting their partners pleasure above their own. yearning for each other’s lips upon their own above anything else. as cheesy and corny as it is it was, they made love.

things moved awfully quickly. the two of them knowing they were in love with each other from the very start, however never saying the words out loud. they didn’t go through the normal stages of a relationship. they skipped a lot of steps and that led to some bad days. sometimes they spent too much time together, and billy’s on true safe haven came in spherical shaped and wrapped in noisy plastic, rather than a can of beer or a pack of marlboro’s.

that’s where he goes when things get shaky between the two. when he feels his fists clenching against his will and the veins on his forehead make their presence known. he escapes a potentially bad situation and lets his anger rise out of him with the steam of the hot water, and dissipate into nothingness. cleansing himself of the hurt. scars hidden under opaque colorful water.

the problem is steve doesn’t like when billy leaves him alone without word. he understands he needs his space, but he wishes he’d only talk to him about it before walking off.

on one day, when billy left mid conversation, steve follows. he honestly doesn’t know what he thought billy did in the bathroom for hours, and he’s not sure why he’s surprised to find his boyfriend laid out in a bath full of deep blue water with his eyes closed just relaxing. noticing the rise and fall of his chest as he takes in deep calming breaths. noticing the beach like scent that floods the room.

“can I join you?” steve finally asks. very intrigued in what all of this is.

billy thought he’d be more upset about steve bathing in. about him completely disregarding his need for space, but he wasn’t. perhaps space wasn’t really the thing he needed. he gestures to the other end of the tub, signaling the affirmative.

steve strips and slowly lowers himself into the tub. he’s facing billy who has since gone back and shut his eyes, head pointed to the ceiling. the water is very hot but feels really good on his skin. he has his legs pulled up to his chest as to not disturb billy. he just watches him as he relaxes completely. a state he rarely, if ever, has seen him in.

after several minutes billy opens his eyes and pulls steve over towards him so now they are both facing the same direction and steve is sitting in between billy’s legs. he has his arms wrapped around him and kisses his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for just walking out.”

“it’s okay. I get it.” steve responds, bringing his own hand to lay on top of both of billy’s that grip his stomach. “wanna tell me how you made the water turn blue?”

“magic.”

steve laughs and leans into billy, closing his eyes like he had and completely understanding almost instantly. it’s like he goes somewhere else. somewhere warm that smells of the ocean. somewhere nice and serene. he could easily fall asleep right there in billy’s arms. allowing himself to prune up under the water.

it’s something they continue together. when they both feel like they’ve had enough of each other for the day, instead of going off on their own, they strip down and enjoy a moment together in the tub. closing their eyes and imagining far away places while wrapped up in each other. a reminder that they’re both still there for each other. alone but together. dealing with their issues as a unit. feeling clean and smelling good afterwards.

steve comes home one day lugging in multiple bags worth of bath bombs along with other fun stuff like bath salts and bubble bars. their bathroom cupboards are better stocked than their kitchen. they both admit it might be just a little excessive.

but it doesn’t matter. because it’s perfect for them. any fight, any argument, any disagreement. all it takes is a brightly colored bath bomb and all that tension disaplears under the sizzle. it’s strange knowing they have max to thank for all of it.

[bffsoobin]

Windflower

01|02|03|04|05|06

↳ after a heartbreak you find yourself in a small town looking for purpose. you find employment with Choi Soobin and his impressive ancestral home. when you start to fall in love again, there’s no way for you to predict what you find in the depths of the home and Soobin’s mind.

➤ hanahaki au, angst, slight fluff, dark themes

Word Count:6,881

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of sickness and feeling generally unwell, mentions of doctors/medical treatments, deception, descriptions of anxiety/panic, horror, pain, major character death, general dark themes! Please proceed with caution if you’re sensitive! (also I did not proof read)

A/N:excuse my language; but holy fuck. I cannot believe this is the end of Windflower. This is insane. Windflower is my passion project, and the desire to write it is half the reason I opened my account on here. While it hasn’t been the most popular writing on my blog, I have been really really proud of it. Thank you to everyone who has been reading and supporting this since the beginning! I love you all!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Soobin sat with his head dipped toward the dark wooden dining table. He was scrolling through what appeared to be a website for a plant nursery; as if he needed more within the home. You were sitting opposite of him, peeking over the top of your laptop where you were pretending to read an article on the ten best shows coming to Netflix this fall. Following the night of your drunken rage, the two of you had patched up your relationship as well as you possibly could. You’d traded apologies, talked it out over a store-bought cheesecake and moved on. 

At least, you assumed he had. He acted as if you hadn’t accused him of being some type of fraud and proclaimed that you could no longer trust him. Everything was eerily the same, despite Soobin’s increased caution around you in certain settings. Gone were the days of him laying a hand on your back as you cooked or resting his head on your shoulder while you both dozed off on the couch. 

You should have been grateful for his physical distance. Happy that he was giving you the room you had hinted at needing on that night a few weeks ago. Instead you were annoyed. Frustrated at the way you craved to feel his comforting touch even though you knew it would only bring you more pain in the end. For a while, you worried that his avoidance meant he had seen the evidence of your stupidity floating within the toilet bowl, but you knew Soobin well enough to know that he would have talked to you about it. Right? He would have brought it up; although slowly and with extreme caution, and asked you what he could do to help. He had proven himself to be mature and thoughtful, even after you’d tried to push him away. 

He finally stirred in his seat across the table. You could actually hear a few of his bones crack with the movement and you stifled a laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” He tried to sound intimidating, but his voice was so inherently soft around the edges that you couldn’t hold back the laugh. 

“You’re just an old man,” you were poking at him, you knew, but it felt good. You felt normal. Almost like you were back to the time when the two of you were truly just friends. He planted both of his large, vascular hands flat on the table and leaned his weight forward. 

“I’m an old man? You do know we’re the same age, Y/N. So if I’m so old...” he paused for dramatic affect as you stared up at him in amused awe. “Then you must be ancient.”

An offended gasp, obviously feigned, slipped between your lips; which you now noticed you’d chewed raw as you were thinking earlier. 

“How dare you? I am the epitome of youth! My hair is flowing, my skin is flawless,” you pointed to a blemish on your chin you knew for a fact you’d had for days. “My youthful beauty is unmatched, can’t you tell?” You weren’t sure where your sudden good mood had come from but you basked in it. Even as Soobin used his hands as leverage to lean closer to your face, you didn’t budge. You couldn’t. This close up, you could spot every single little freckle on his face. The dynamic shades of his irises became more and more distinct until he finally stopped advancing toward you. It was easily the closest the two of you had been in weeks. 

“Hm, you’re right. I can tell. There’s something about you...” he squinted his eyes as if he were scrutinizing your every feature. “You are beautiful, Y/N.” 

The sentence brought an unwanted visceral reaction through your body. It was too much like a confession, too close to the exact words you needed to hear from him. A shooting pain rippled through your heart. You shuddered out an exhale, shutting your eyes tight as if that would stave away the pain. In a blind panic, you pushed away from the solid table and made to put as much distance between yourself and Soobin as possible. Then your migraine hit, the feeling like someone had stuck a red hot iron rod behind both of your eyes. Fuck. On top of that pain, a cough worked its way up your throat, producing a petal into your mouth that was slimy and bitter.

You only made it two and a half steps before your knees gave out, sending you hurtling toward the floor in a free fall. Sticking your hands out just before the impact, you accepted the fact that you were about to get a concussion out of your own inability to properly distance yourself from an unrequited love. But the sensitive skin of your face never bounced off of the original hardwood flooring you had once drooled over. 

“Y/N?” Soobin was panicked, stooped down  next to you as he had managed to barely break your fall and turn you around to lay on your back. Your vision was still swimming, but you cracked open your eyes very slowly. 

‘What’s wrong? Do you need to go to a doctor?” 

“No,” you croaked out, “was just a migraine.” Soobin scoffed. 

“I’ve never seen anyone nearly pass out from just a migraine, Y/N. And in all the months I’ve known you, you’ve never-”

“I’m fine.” You asserted, sitting up as well as you could with his arms wrapped protectively around your shoulders. “They used to happen the last time I- uh, when I was in college. It’s okay, they’ll pass.” You were lying right through your teeth. The last time you had a migraine this badly, your then roommate had rushed you to the emergency room and discovered that you had hanahaki. There was no doubt that history was repeating itself. 

 “Okay.” He was frowning, obviously unconvinced as he pushed a hand against your lower back. “At least let me help you upstairs.” 

----

The migraine either dissipates or you simply become accustomed to it. The petal you had coughed into a tissue when you first reached your room had dried, sitting on your bedside table in its perfect little form to mock you. You were so disgusted that you couldn’t even bring yourself to throw it away. No longer sensitive to light, you shrugged out from underneath your sheets and stretched your limbs until they cracked. A dull thumping was still present at the base of your skull; a reminder of what you’d just suffered. A sickly feeling of anxiety passed through you like a breeze, making the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention. Soobin was clearly not convinced by your insistence that your sudden ailment was nothing of concern. And he was right. In all the time you’d been around him, you never once experienced a spell quite like that, so how was he supposed to not be suspicious?

Although, you had to hold onto hope that he truly didn’t know any better. It seemed as though he was blissfully ignorant to the truth behind your sickness, and you’d like to keep it that way. For as long as you possibly could, anyway. 

You hadn’t even noticed that you were pacing across the floor until you landed your weight onto a particularly squeaky board that sounded ridiculous in the otherwise quiet room. Freezing on the spot, you held your breath for some reason you truly couldn’t explain. Of course, there was no logical reason to do so, and the action only resulted in your lungs contracting violently. Your upper body shuddered as you opened your mouth instantly. Holding your breath for just a few seconds should have been a simple task, but to your weakened heart and lungs it felt like running a whole marathon uphill. 

Buckling over, you heaved in mouthfuls of oxygen until your heart rate dropped back down to a normal rate. Add shortness of breath to your growing list of signs that should send you running for the nearest clinic. If you weren’t so foolishly attached to the man who was probably worrying about you downstairs, you would have already been booking yourself an appointment. 

It just seemed totally inconceivable, even in your predicament, to leave Soobin behind within his ancestral house that surely felt horridly empty being lived in alone. You would sooner walk over lava barefoot than put him through that. It was stupid. So incredibly stupid, but you were literally willing to put your life on the line just to look after Soobin. He had really weaseled himself deep into your psyche. But you knew you were to blame for holding the door wide open. He had done so much for you, surely you could do him to kindness of sticking around as long as you possibly could.

So you trudged down the steps like you did every day, expecting to come face to face with an overly worried and doting young man standing in the kitchen or living room awaiting your arrival. But the lower level of the house was oddly silent when you descended the steps. The low hum of the washer and dryer running were the only indications that someone beside yourself was even there. Curiosity spiking, you made your way to the vacant living room to peer out of the windows. It was a bit hard to see him from this angle, but you spotted Soobin lounging on the back deck, skin browning in the sun and eyes closed in content. His arms were tucked behind his head, effectively lengthening his torso and giving you a full view of the sliver of skin that was peeking out between the top of his waistband and the bottom of the white cotton t-shirt  You noticed that he was once again wearing the outfit he was donning when you first arrived at the front gate weeks ago. Although the outfit was simple and generally unremarkable, you would never forget the way your heart lurched at the sight of his lithe body the first time. The warm pull of nostalgia nagged at the back of your mind, so you selfishly let yourself sink into its embrace and recall the trepidation you had once approached the grounds with. 

Soobin had charmed you so easily with his windswept hair and boyish charm that it was a shock you didn’t begin to grow flowers for him the first time you met. To be fair, the version of you who had rolled into town almost two months prior was much more cautious than the version you were now familiar with. Part of you missed that version of you; who was simply drifting through life, unattached to anyone and looking for a new spot to plant her roots. But you knew you weren’t built to live like that, as your attachment to Soobin had proven wholeheartedly. 

Suddenly, you felt a lurching in your chest that didn’t necessarily hurt you; but urged you to go outside and talk to Soobin. A subconscious pull that reminded you that your body craved his attention just as much as your mind did. The weather was beautiful today, a pleasant temperature that made your skin feel like it was glowing as soon as you were under the sun. As soon as you stepped onto the porch, Soobin whipped his head around in your direction. Cutely, he scrambled to sit up, hair frizzy from the static of the Adirondack chair he had been lounging on. 

“Are you feeling better?” A warm hand encased the left side of your face, Soobin’s sloped nose just inches away from yours as his speckled eyes studied every single pore and line on your face. 

“Uh- I’m-” his proximity was making your jittery, heart rate spiking as you tried to collect your thoughts. “I feel better. The migraine is gone.” You ignored the way the same dull ache from earlier was beginning to seep into the edges of your brain. 

“Oh, good!” A rush of his breath blew over your sensitive skin, sending your eyelids into a flutter. When he removed his hand, you felt oddly cold and empty despite the heat of the atmosphere. “Look, I don’t want you to do any work around the house until you’re feeling better. And I can call my doctor to get you in for a-”

“No!” The word jumped off of your tongue before you could reign it in; rudely cutting Soobin off as his eyes widened in shock. He shifted his weight as his eyebrows knit together in worry. You licked your lips- suddenly dry- and tried to collect the thoughts that were running laps in your mind. How could you possibly explain that going to the doctor would be a grave mistake and mark the end of your companionship. 

“You don’t want to go to the doctor? I promise he’s really nice, Y/N, and he can get you medicine for your migraines.” His perfect lips were pulled into a worried pout, a thin sheen of sweat glazing his skin only exemplifying his perfect complexion. 

“No, it’s just that...when I had them before they ran a bunch of tests,” you were hedging the truth and you knew it, but hopefully Soobin couldn’t tell the difference, “and there was nothing they could give me to help them. So a doctor would just be, ya know, a waste of time.” The skin on the back of your neck was heated in worry as you shot Soobin what you hoped was a convincing grin. 

“Okay.” He was still frowning but he seemed to believe you. “Just please let me know if you want to go. I don’t want you to be miserable. And you’re still not doing any yard work,” he grasped your bicep and led you over to the chair he had just been lying in. His grip was strong as he gave you no choice but to sit down and relax. The plastic was heated from the sunshine and the heat of his body as you settled in and looked up at him, blinking slowly. 

“I’m not gonna break, Soobin. I can handle watering the plants and doing some cleaning inside. You are not going to wait on me hand and foot.” You put some fire in your tone, hoping to edge away the anxiety you were feeling creep up the back of your throat. Having the exact person who sent your body on a fight against itself watching over you like a mother cat watches its kittens would surely put you six feet under. 

Soobin’s eyes steeled as he crossed his arms over his broad, defined chest. “No, Y/N. I am going to wait on you, because you’ve spent so much time waiting on me, and you deserve to have someone take care of you. Please let me take care of you, bub.” You were speechless at the strength of his voice coupled with the nickname he had only used in a teasing manner prior to this moment. The longer you stared at the toned muscle of his arms crossed over the widest part of his torso, the more your throat began to tickle with the insistence of soft, red petals that were looking for an escape. Panicked, you looked away quickly, coughing as softly as you can to hopefully pass the action off as simply swallowing down the wrong pipe. Just when you think the moment has passed, an unwavering push at the back of your throat had you involuntarily gagging. Soobin sprung into action, patting a large hand between your shoulder blades as if he were burping an infant. He was calling your name, pulling some strands of your hair away from your face in a bid to get your attention; but you ignored him. Your stomach rolled, the pressure in your lungs and heart only increasing at his touch that you tried to shrug off. 

Eventually the muscles of your esophagus stopped constricting and fresh oxygen could flow back into your crowded lungs. Hot tears slipped down your cheeks and you wiped at them in embarrassment, hiding your face from Soobin’s intensified gaze. You could only imagine what he was thinking right now; as you’d just went from insisting you had no need for a doctor to dry heaving over the side of his deck furniture. The thought had you shrinking into yourself even more. He was going to catch on eventually, wasn’t he? Fuck. You couldn’t avoid this much longer. The evidence of your disease was only mounting and Soobin was more observant than ever before. 

“Y/N.” The call of your name brought you, slowly, out of your own mind. “Look at me.” The words could not have been any clearer, yet you shook your head like a petulant child. He sighed. “Please, I’m worried about you. Please let me take care of you. I can’t,” he stopped and you could hear him swallow clearly. Was that a sniffle? Your heart clenched in response. “I can’t sit here and watch you hurt.” 

Still ashamed, you raised your head from your hands and stared out over the yard instead of facing him. You didn’t think your stuttering heart would survive seeing his expression in this supercharged moment. You’d sooner drop dead than see Soobin crying over you.

“Okay,” you acquiesced, mind already running in the direction of a backup plan, “I’m sorry, Soobin. You’re right. I do need you to look after me. Just please.” you swallowed, tasting the oddly earthy tang of flower petals on your tongue. “No doctors. You have to promise me.” Finally turning your body to face his, your earlier suspicions were confirmed. 

Your heart constricted painfully at the sight of him, eyes rimmed red and watery with unshed tears and a line of worry creasing the soft skin of his forehead harshly. “Fine.” He huffed, clearly displeased with your stipulation but willing to make the sacrifice. 

“Thank you,” the words were whispered, caught in a sudden gust of wind, but he heard them nonetheless and sent you a small nod. 

“Of course.”

----

Soft sunlight filtered through the flowy white curtains hanging over the windows of the library. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t spent much time in this little haven since you moved in. Soobin’s cousin had filled it with plush armchairs laden with soft fleece blankets and the most comfortable throw pillows you’d ever felt. The books were certainly outdated, but you found some classics that satisfied the itch for escape you had begun to cultivate. Currently, you were flipping through a vintage illustrated coffee table book- the front page tells you it was made in 1962- that gave diagrams and names of all types of flowers. You shouldn’t have been surprised to find this type of literature here, as Soobin himself had admitted to learning the meanings of flowers in his free time. 

The pages were delicate, so you flipped them carefully, fingers tracing over the edges that felt like they might melt between the oil of your skin. As you turned onto a new page a brightly colored sticky note, not unlike the ones you used to mark up textbooks, drew your attention toward the flower it was attached to. You recognized the flower as jasmine immediately, familiar with the patch of it that weaved among its neighbors in the garden. Brushing the sticky note aside, you read the delicate cursive underneath it: eternal and unconditional love. Cute. The image of a younger Soobin thumbing through the book, tongue pushed out in concentration as he researched warmed your heart. 

A tremor of weakness passed through your arm, making your hand shake. A feeling of dread- which you desperately tried to push down- reminded you of just how much worse your condition had become. You had noticed it lately, the way you felt much more faint than normal, how much more often you had to take a moment to catch your breath, the way your whole body would shake when you cough up a mix of blood and petals into the sink. 

But for now, you chose to lose yourself in this book and the newfound hunt for Soobin’s sticky notes of interest. You had to skip a few pages before you found the next ones; two bundled together in the upper left corner of the page marked off forget-me-nots and begonias. Gently lifting the sticky notes revealed the meanings behind these flowers, also featured in the backyard, to be true love and deep compassion and communication or connection, respectively. Curiosity mounting, you continued to flip through the weighty book. At first, you began to think that maybe the three notes you’d already found were all that lived within the forgotten book. As you neared the end, your eyes caught on two more, this time on opposite ends of the page. One partially covered an illustration of a snapdragon, the other highlighting the small flowers of a buttercup. Your nails caught on the edge of the blue paper as you lifted it. Buttercups: neatness and innocence. The definition made sense, calling back to memory the way your former best friend had coughed up a handful of the pale yellow flowers when you were just children. She was easily the most pure and innocent person you’d ever met, and given the matching nature of the boy who’d also been secretly pining over her; you couldn’t think of a more perfect example of the type of flower representing the relationship. 

You wondered if Soobin had chosen and planted these flowers with the image of the relationships they’re indicative of in mind. The snapdragon’s description was totally covered by the sticky note; so you nearly had to pry the whole thing off before you could see the cursive. Deception. The word stared back at you. It seemed very out of place among the other markings that Soobin had made. You knew for a fact that a tall, thick patch of snapdragons were growing proudly in the garden, among all the other flowers with soft, beautiful meanings. Interesting. You would consider the fact that Soobin was only drawn to their aesthetics, but the way the drawing was marked with the same enthusiasm as the others was certainly curious. 

You decided that you were thinking way too far into this. For all you knew, the snapdragons were simply planted by someone in his family and he had gone looking for their meaning. Nearing the end of the book, you were simply skimming over the book. Your eyes were starting to get tired, fatigue dancing under your skin as you considered taking a nap right there. On the final, yellowed page of the flower identification book, you spotted something alarmingly familiar. A red flower whose petals fade into a pure white near the stem. The exact same petals that had been crawling up your throat and ruining the little bit of safety you’d found within Soobin’s home. 

Suddenly on high alert, you sat up straight, eyes watering as you finally focused enough to comprehend the definition. The red windflower. Death and forsaken love. Your throat went completely dry, heart dropping down to your stomach. The petals pushed against the soft flesh of the inside of your throat, scratching at the back of your tongue as a harsh reinforcement of what you were reading. Death? Surely you had joked with yourself that you felt as if you were dying, but was that not just because you hadn’t seen a doctor? 

A new gagging cough slipped past your lips, consuming your senses totally as you focused on not spewing a mix of blood, spit and flower petals onto the surely expensive leather chair. Finally, you collapsed back in the chair, chest heaving, book laid open on your lap. Fresh tears brimmed your eyes. You needed to leave. As much as you desired to stay around Soobin and bask in his company, you were becoming increasingly worried for your life. You had to find a way to get him out of the house long enough for you to pack up the essentials and flee the house. It would hurt. It would hurt so bad, but nothing could be worse than the message of doom that your body was giving you. Loving Soobin would literally put you in an early grave. 

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Soobin’s voice came cautiously from somewhere behind you and you jumped, clasping the book shut quickly. 

“I’m-” you tried, voice too wrecked from coughing to continue. You cleared your throat, ignoring the painful pinch that created and tried again. “I’m okay. But I was wondering if you’d do me a favor?” Thinking on your feet had your head spinning, and you hoped he couldn’t sense the waver in your voice as you spoke. 

He approached slowly, sitting himself on an armchair opposite of you. The knees of his jeans were stained brown with dirt, a sight not uncommon after his time in the garden. He pushed a hand through his mussed up hair. It was a nervous tick, you knew, and you felt awful for worrying him. Maybe it was better if you left after all. 

“Could you go out to Hank’s and get me a Smore’s sundae? I would drive myself but...” a vague gesture over your generally unwell body made the point clear. “I know it’s pretty far out of town but I’ve been craving one since the first time we went.” 

“Of course. I’m done outside, I can go. Are you sure you’ll be okay alone? I’ll be out for probably like 40 minutes to get all the way there and back.”

“Yes, Soobin. I can still handle myself alone. I’m not that sick.” The irony of the statement was not lost on you, but it seemed to have placated him enough for him to slip on his shoes and leave the house. As soon as he was gone, you threw yourself off of the chair. Your heart rate had been in a constant state of increase for weeks, but you just had to just push through it for now. 

In a flurry of packing that was all too familiar to the way you left your college apartment,  you began to gather your things. You felt a twinge of guilt for leaving behind some of your things for Soobin to contend with, but you had to push it aside in favor of working quickly. All of your personal items, chargers, enough clothing for two weeks, toiletries and any money you’d brought along with you were stuffed into your trusty tote bag. You took one last sweeping look around the room, anxiety licking at the back of your neck as you feared you were running out of time. Many of your dressers were still full and you had left the bed a mess but your most important items were tucked underneath your arm securely; and that was enough for you. 

As you descended the stairs, you tried to ignore the way you wobbled dangerously down them until you finally got to the bottom level of the house. A bittersweet feeling rose in your chest as you surveyed the kitchen where you’d cooked and baked so many times. The living room beckoned you with similar memories of taking naps in the sunshine and watching your favorite films. A stray tear you didn’t know was welling up made a hot streak down your face before dripping off of your skin. No matter how much it hurt, you had to keep moving. The floor creaked familiarly under your feet as you approached the front door. The handle was cold under your fingers as you twisted, but the satisfying creak and rush of fresh air that you were expecting never came. You tried again, but the door didn’t budge. Locked. Okay, that made sense. Neither of you really used the front door, so of course it was locked up. Leaning down to inspect the doorknob, you realized that the age of the home meant that you would need a skeleton key to slip into the door and crack it open. 

Slightly annoyed, you took a deep, steadying breath and headed for the backdoor. You would have to walk further to get to your car; but the back door should be unlocked, considering Soobin had just left out of it. With more fervor, you gripped the door knob and twisted, just to be met with the same resistance the front door gave. A flash of hot panic consumed you as you jiggled the handle again, just in case it would make any difference. Soobin must have locked it out of habit when he left, and you knew for a fact that he had the only key-as far as you knew- with him out at Hank’s. Blindly, you grabbed for your cellphone before realizing how useless that would truly be. No one knew you were here. You didn’t have any other friends in town, and it’s not like you could call the police to come help you without Soobin finding out. Sweaty palms made your phone nearly slip from your grip as your mind worked in overdrive. 

“Okay.” you whispered to yourself, “where would he keep spare keys?” Rifling through a mental list of all the nooks and crannies of the home, a sudden realization hit you. That room upstairs where you had hit your head! That would explain why the room seemed oddly clean, and it was feasible to believe that what you mistook for an AC unit was actually a safe of some kind. Back up the steps you went, heart thumping in a rhythm that was surely unhealthy for someone as young as yourself. 

When you finally got to the room, you found the mismatched furniture exactly where you left it. Soobin had clearly made no effort to move back the dresser or the table that you’d begun to slide out of the way; only making your mission so much easier. 

For the first time today, you had luck when you pulled at the handle of something. Up close, you seemed to be clearly looking at some kind of built in storage compartment, made of a light metal and easily accessed by a small pull lever. Your fingers slipped as you swung the door open, excitement rising at the prospect of being correct about the keeping place of the keys. 

As fast as the excitement and relief had risen, they were quelled and buried deep underneath a wash of confusion. Within the confines of the compartment, you were faced with... flowers. In the middle, acting as some sort of centerpiece, was a pressed snapdragon stem. An entire cluster of flowers, attached firmly to a greened stem was propped up on a small stand; shrink wrapped in protective plastic. Something about the sight was oddly familiar. The stem was cut so perfectly across, completely unlike the way a garden sheer or someone breaking off the plant would present. A memory surfaced to the top of your mind, recalling the first time you’d had your flowers removed. It was cut in the exact same manner; with the precision only a surgical tool could make. Although you’d tried to bury the whole process in a dusty corner of your mind, you did remember your doctor offering the option to take the removed flower home. It had appalled and confused you, but it was clear that that was the source of this exact flower. 

“What the fuck?” you whispered, catching sight of an almost unrecognizable sharpie scribbled on the corner. CS. Initials? Oh god. CS. Choi Soobin. Your hand recoiled as if you’d been burned, the feeling of bile raising toward your tongue. He had told you that he never grew flowers, so what the hell was this? Why would he keep this a secret? Hurt and panic joined hands and wreaked havoc on your nervous system. You could barely think straight. Was this his...trophy case? 

When you shifted on your feet, you spotted a small envelope resting behind the stand. A sick feeling of curiosity had you reaching for it. At this point, you had no idea what to expect as your fingers stick to the material thanks to the sweat permeating your body. It takes a few tries, but once you finally get the envelope slipped open, you can’t tell what you’re looking at. The lighting was too awkward, so you dumped the contents out onto the surface of the compartment. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see; but it certainly wasn’t this. Dozens of flower petals, dried and shrink wrapped in the same fashion as the haunting centerpiece spilled out in front of you. The smooth metal surface sent them all skidding, so it took you a second to get the whole picture. The first one to catch your eye was a white, pointed petal that you could easily identify as jasmine with the same handwritten pair of letters on one corner. YJ. Another protected petal, this one the tell tale purple-blue of a forget me not bore the letters SA. In fact, you could match every single one of these petals to a flower you had been fawning over in the garden since your arrival. 

One that had scattered toward the back of the case seemed to compel you even though you couldn’t quite see it. You reached for it blindly, bringing a few, clearly much older flowers forward with it. Sifting through them only struck more and more fear into you. Every instinct you had was telling you to run, scream, pound on a window until you could bust out. Soobin was clearly not all he had claimed to be. But a dark, twisted side of yourself you didn’t know existed wanted to sift through all of the petals and match them up with the garden you’d cared for. Resting at the bottom of the pile in your hand, you finally came across the petal you’d initially reached for. 

It was about the size of a penny; red, fading into a simple white at the bottom. This was it. This was the exact petal that you’d spit out onto your bedside table after your first awful migraine. Now that you thought about it, you never did throw it out. You were too disgusted to even face the flora that haunted you. 

Your heart stopped. The sharpie on this flower was smudged, as if he had been in too much of a hurry to let it dry. Your initials were there, clear as day. He had collected your flower for his sick collection. He had collected...you. 

The little happy world you had built yourself came crashing down like a ton of bricks. If he had done this to you, then surely all of these other petals came from others who had come to work and live with him. You recalled an early discussion about family tradition as you thumbed over a group of much more withered looking flowers. 

This was the family tradition. 

Alarms blared in your mind. Get out, your mind urged faster than your feet could move. Tripping over yourself, you hoped that Soobin wasn’t home yet, as you had no idea how to get out of the home. Your feet pounded noisily on the hardwood but that was the very least of your worries. Skidding into the kitchen, your blood ran cold.

Soobin. 

“Hey,” his voice was smooth, unwavering as he leaned against the sink nursing a bottle of water. On the island there was a brown paper bag with Hank’s logo printed on the front. “There’s your ice cream.” 

You didn’t know what to do. Clearly, you had been caught red handed with a tote bag in hand and anxious sweat rolling down your face. 

“Oh, uh. Thanks.” The room sat creepily still as Soobin’s eyes, devoid of any clear emotion, roved over you. He quirked an eyebrow as he pushed himself off of the counter. You couldn’t move, even as he stalked closer. 

“What happened to you resting? You’re sick.” He had asked a question but it seemed clear we really wasn’t looking for an answer. 

“I just-” your words turned into a gasp as Soobin gripped your shoulder so hard that it hurt. Gone were the usually careful caresses of his fingers as he pushed you backwards. With your body already weak it only took one wrong step for you to be sent flying toward the floor. On instinct, you tried to grab onto Soobin’s solid body for support, but he stepped back and watched you fall, bouncing the back of your head off of the floor hard enough to go limp. Consciousness came and went as you struggled to do anything in the name of self defense. Your lungs and heart were too compromised to acquire and pump the nutrients your body needed. Soobin crouched over you, studying you with a passive look on his face. 

“Ya know,” he sighed, pulling the tote bag away from your body. “I really did like you. I hoped to have spent some more time with you, but you’re just,” he clicked his tongue, grabbing you firmly by the ankles and giving an experimental tug. You slid along the floor easily. “So. Nosy. Too nosy for your own good.” 

“Soobin, you’re not- this isn’t-” a dark chuckle passed between his lips. The ones you once dreamed of. 

“You don’t know me. This is exactly who I am, Y/N. This is who my whole family is.” He dropped your ankles harshly, secure in the fact that you were too weak to get up. A shroud of darkness filled your head as you grayed out from the panic. When you awoke again, it was to the sound of birds chirping. It hurt to open your eyes but you did it anyway, spotting Soobin just above you, wielding a shovel. 

He smiled down at you, deceivingly handsome, as he stuck the shovel into the pliant ground just to your side. Looking to your left, you spotted a freshly dug shallow grave and your blood ran cold at the recognition that he must have been digging this earlier in the day when you were reading. 

“Please, don’t do this.” you begged with the last of your energy. “Soobin, please. I- I love you.” Desperation had you spitting out your deepest secrets in a bid to catch his attention and change his behavior. 

“Awe,” he crooned, grabbing onto your wrists with a grip that would certainly bruise your delicate skin. “I know.” One sharp movement had you landing on your back in the dirt, several feet below ground level. The impact pushed all the air out of your compromised lungs and you didn’t even have the semblance to lift your head and scream to anyone listening. Soobin stood above you, blocking the sun from your view as he dropped something onto you. It took you a few moments, but you soon realized he had dropped a handful of red windflower petals and seeds onto your front. You shuddered. This is surely what had happened to all the other people who carried the flowers you’d found. This was how Soobin kept his beautiful garden. Sacrifice. 

Wordlessly, he piled shovel fulls of dirt on top of your body. With your eyes slipping shut, all you could do was feel the weight of being buried alive consume you. 

----

Soobin hated the winter. It was too long, too cold, too boring. He usually spent the whole time holed up in his home, dreaming of the day the weather warms. 

Finally, finally, after months of waiting the time had come. An early summer breeze pushed his hair out of his face. This season he had decided to go for a purple color that seemed to suit his complexion well. Sitting on his favorite deck chair, he gazed out at the beginnings of his blooming garden. All of the usuals had cropped up, but it was with great pride and delight that Soobin regarded the patch of red windflowers that had begun to grow. For their first season, they were going strong, covering almost the entire plot of land he had allowed them. For a while, he had been worried that the new plants wouldn’t perform well, since he’d never dealt with them before. But he was quite proud. 

As he sipped from a frosty glass of lemonade, he heard the distant crunch of his driveway gravel. It had been almost a year since the last time he heard it, but his heart jumped in excitement. Stretching his limbs, he began a lazy meander toward the front gate; already making out the slight static of the speaker as someone spoke into it, introducing themselves and asking if they were in the right place. Clearing his throat, he rounds to corner to the great iron gate surrounded by his guarding trees and glances back at his garden. Then he advanced, opening the gate as he came and beckoning his new guest inside the boundaries of his property.

“Hi! I’m Soobin. This house belonged to my great-great-uncle and his wife. Well, wives.”

tag list: @unlocktxt @magicisland9-34 @givethnofucketh @yeonjjuniverse​ 

[ink-on-parxhment]

it’s never too late to turn the other way

also find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085704

Summary:

First it's graduation, and then one years passes, then two, then five. This job they're in, everyone around him seems to love it, seems to need it like they need the air in their lungs and blood in their veins, but sometimes he looks up and can only see how much it takes and takes and takes.

This life was what he was made for, what he was good at, but just maybe he can have something else, be something else.

Excerpt:

“I don’t know if I was ever meant to be a hero in the first place.”

There’s a sigh on the other end of the line that seems like it releases every bit of air in Aizawa’s lungs.

Graduation day rolls around with pale sunshine and what he feels is relatively little fanfare. For all that they have seen in their three years at UA, he thinks that this should feel more monumental, like maybe it should be bigger than his brain is making it.

But he looks around at the crowd and the decorations, sees Midoriya bouncing on the balls of his feet and exuding enough energy to power a city block, and thinks maybe it is that big, maybe it is monumental. It just doesn’t feel like anything monumental to him.

So he sits in a fold out metal chair and listens to Nedzu talk about the fundamentals of heroics, about what it means to be a Pro. He watches Midoriya rise from his spot further down the front row, where he sits right beside Momo, his suit gleaming green in the streaming sunlight, and take the microphone with shaking hands. He talks about how close their class is, about how they are siblings in arms, bonds forged in blood-wasitworthitwasitreally- and how it is an honor to take up the mantle as heroes amongst other professionals. He watches in a daze, hands cold as ice and sweating bullets, as Momo takes the mic from Midoriya and talks about dedication, about honor, about bravery-I’mnotreadywe’renotready-and then they’re all standing to get their diplomas and, more importantly for most, their licenses.

The Big Three go first, and then it’s all alphabetical from there. He watches Midoriya wipe tears from his cheeks on the sleeve of his uniform as he walks away from a handshake with Toshinori, watches Momo take her diploma from Nedzu and a wide, full smile stretches her mouth, watches Bakugou bare his teeth in a grin down at his license.

Eventually, it is his turn. He walks up the stairs to the stage and takes his diploma from Nedzu, shakes the chimera’s paw, and takes his brand new Pro Hero License as well. The look on Nedzu’s face is unreadable as always, but now more than ever he cannot decipher the glint in his eyes.

He steps away and off the stage, watches the rest of his class take their diploma and license with a sense of awe about them. He looks down at his own license, official Commission seal in the corner, and his face and name stare back up at him. Their licenses aren’t supposed to have their real names on them, for security reasons and for underground Pros like Shinsou who need anonymity to survive, but he had never gotten around to changing his hero name.

He stares down at his ID photo, traces a thumb across the official seal, and breathes past the lead weight that has dropped into his lungs at the thought that they’re here, they’ve made it.

He looks around, sees Midoriya pull his mother into a hug, both of them crying happy tears with All Might standing awkwardly next to them, as if the whole class hadn’t figured out he had practically adopted Midoriya. Bakugou is being aggressively group hugged by his group of friends, face a storm cloud but hands unlit, his equally explosive mother taking pictures in the background. He sees Shinsou pull a faux dismayed Aizawa in for a picture, and that’s another mentorship turned pseudo-family that has been poorly hidden since their second year.

His own family, his own father, is walking toward him, and he can see their smiles from here. He’s holding his Pro license and his family is proud. There’s so much happiness in the clearing he can practically taste it, and he feels nothing.

This is what he’s worked for since he was a child. So why does it feel like he’s still got a full marathon to run and no end in sight?

 I saw you’re in town. Want to grab lunch?

He sends the text before he can overthink it, going back to halfway watching the late-night news and idly eating his cooling dinner. According to the newscast, Midoriya will be in town for the next week, and he hasn’t seen his friend face-to-face in over a year.

I work most days that im there!! Are you free Monday? The text also has what feels like way too many overly excited smiley emojis that still don’t compare to the literal sunshine that is Midoriya’s megawatt smile, and he has to shove down the rush of affection that settles in his ribs at his friend’s enthusiasm.

I am free Monday. Just let me know what time.

He is free most days, is what he doesn’t say. He sees his mother once a week and video-chats his siblings just as often. He tries to see Momo once a month, but she is busier than ever between her new agency and her recently revealed relationship with Jirou. He texts Midoriya and Iida, does his best to stay in touch with Tsu and Ochako. He has a text chain with Shinsou that goes quiet for weeks and then chimes notifications constantly for days. He sends memes back and forth with Kaminari.

He came out of graduation with hard won friendships, relationships he bought with blood and sweat, and he clings to them with a ferocity he does not cling to his work with. They all talk about their work like it brings them this greater purpose, like it’s what supplies the blood in their veins and oxygen in their lungs, but he clocks into the same agency he interned with his third year exactly on time and clocks out exactly the moment he is supposed to.

He does his work. It pays his bills, and that is no small thing, he thinks. He is saving lives and making a difference, and that should be enough. (It is enough, it has to be enough, what else would he even do?) But he thinks about the light in Midoriya’s eyes when he talks about a job that sounds like it just keeps taking and taking and taking and can’t quite muster the same level of enthusiasm.

Does 1:30 work???

It does, in fact, work. He would have made whatever time work, he thinks, barring a major villain outbreak.

Yeah

They make plans to meet up at the restaurant their friend group had haunted back in high school, which isn’t too far away from his agency or where Midoriya will be that day. He types the plan into his phone’s calendar and sets up a reminder he will not need. The strict organization is a habit he fell into in high school alongside Iida’s detailed schedules and Midoriya’s enthusiastic notes, and it is a habit he has yet to shake.

The newscast flashes on the screen in front of him, the aftermath of a fight and newscasters talking. There’s a video of Red Riot carrying civilians, and then a transition to him looking scuffed and beat up but relatively unharmed.

Something close to ice settles in his stomach as he watches his former classmate, his friend, field news reporters, and even through the screen and all this distance he can see how tired Kirishima is. The newscaster is talking, but he cannot hear their words. All he can see is the way Red Riot, because he is Red Riot right now, is smiling for a camera and the way his shoulders are inching up towards his ears, a habit he’d been reprimanded for in Media classes since first semester second year.

The ice solidifies, and he picks up his phone before he can think about it.

I can’t wait to see you Monday.

I can’t wait to see you too!!!   

xXx

Time passes til Monday in a hazy crawl. He has Saturday off, and uses the free time to go see his mother. He has recently taken up new hobbies, primarily punch needle just because when he brought it up at the last class get-together Bakugou had laughed right in his face, and he couldn’t resist the eye-twitch it brought about every time he brought it up in conversation. That’s what started it. Now it’s just soothing.

He calls his sister, feels his shoulders relax as she tells him all about her elementary classroom. They don’t talk about anything heavy, and he feels all the tension in his body seep into his couch cushions as the call ends.

He’s been trying for more precision with his ice recently, more out of idle curiosity than any use it will have in the field. It has morphed into his second hobby at home, which is tiny ice sculptures that melt and leave puddles when he gets distracted and are too lumpy by half. He thinks about his sister and her soft, gentle voice on the phone, talking about her classroom of kids, and her fierce, sharp eyes that always see through him, cut him to the quick, and conjures his quirk until there is a tiny badger in his palm, only recognizable by the fact he knew that’s what it was supposed to be.

“Oh well,” he thinks, vaporizing it. “They’ll get better.”

He stops, blinks. The thought buoys him all the way through work the next day and into Monday.

 Midoriya is already at the restaurant when he gets there, so he makes his way to the table and sits across from his friend. He’s got his characteristic green curls pushed up under a cap, and he’s in a well-worn All Might sweatshirt that he recognizes from third year. Shouto has done nothing to cover his own recognizable hair, but he changed out of his uniform before he left the agency. It’s enough, he thinks.

 Midoriya is bouncing slightly in his chair like he’s barely holding words back, like he can’t quite keep his energy contained in his mortal frame, and it reminds him of research rabbit holes and long nights and manic grins. He looks so different from the smile he gives the press that it would have given him whiplash had he not seen this same megawatt smile across a phone screen at least once a week.

“Hey! How are you?! I know we talked the other day, but I haven’t gotten to talk to you since I traveled and I haven’t seen you at all on the news, which I hoped was a good thing, but you never know.”

He smiles, waits for Midoriya to finish his thought process before answering his first question. It’s good to see his friend. “I’m well, well enough. I’m not on the news enough to make watching the news a good indicator for how I am, though.”

Midoriya scoffs, his grin still in place. It’s a little bit blinding. “You’re on the news more than you think! Anyway, what have you been up to? We spent our whole last call talking about my last case, I want to hear about you!”

Midoriya has leaned forward, resting a little on the table, and Shouto is the sole focus of that green gaze. It’s a little breathtaking to be under that much scrutiny all at once, because one hundred percent of Midoriya’s attention is no small thing. He realizes in that moment how little he has to actually say, when he isn’t talking about his family or his friends. He doesn’t want to talk about work.

So he just… doesn’t. “I took my mom my latest project, and she’s doing really well. She’s been asking about you, actually.”

If Midoriya is confused about him not talking about their jobs, he does an admirable job of hiding it. He leans forward on his arms, twists a napkin in his scarred hands, and lets Shouto talk about his family and his new hobbies for longer than he thought he had words for.

Their drinks come, and eventually their food. Midoriya is swirling broth around his bowl by the time he runs out of questions and Shouto runs out of words. He hasn’t brought up work once during the entire meal, and Midoriya hasn’t asked. He feels happier, lighter than he has in months, and Midoriya is smiling, softer and gentler than his megawatt smile and more precious for it.

 “We should make a habit of this.” He says, before he can let his brain get in front of his mouth.

Midoriya doesn’t even hesitate. Both their schedules are busy and the travel time would be insane, but he doesn’t hesitate when he says. “We should.”

 xXx

There’s a heart monitor beeping steadily, and the rapid fire tap-tap-tap ­of a cell-phone typing indicator somewhere to his left. When he turns his head he can see a bowed head of mussed green curls and broad shoulders covered by a partially torn uniform.

The room smells like antiseptic and the air feels chilled even with his constant thermoregulation. Even if he can’t quite remember what part of the fight landed him here, he’d recognize the hero-specific hospital rooms, head-wound or no.

“Hey,” he says, and almost chokes on how dry his throat is.

Midoriya’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice, phone forgotten in his hand. He looks exhausted, tension lining his shoulders and bruises smudging his eyes, though whether those are from lack of sleep or from his own round with a healing quirk Shouto doesn’t know.  

“Hey.” Midoriya says, clearing his throat. “How do you feel?”

He takes inventory of himself, tenses the muscles in his legs and arms just to prove he can, then rolls his shoulders and tenses at the shock of pain that shoots down his neck. “My head hurts, but mostly I’m just tired.”

Midoriya sighs, but mostly he just looks fond. Shouto doesn’t think he has any right to be this aggrieved considering how many times he has been on this end of the hospital bed.

“That makes sense. I don’t know how much you remember about the fight, but you went head first into a wall there at the end, so you should be free to go once they clear you on the concussion.”

He hums, looks around for a clock to see how long he’s been here for. The fight had been midday, but the curtains are pulled tight and the bright, artificial lights from above give nothing away. There isn’t a visible clock, but the board on the wall they use for long-term patients hasn’t been filled out and they’ve only clipped his papers there, so he assumes he hasn’t been here very long.

“You know,” Midoriya starts, and his voice shakes like it did years and years ago, like he’s nervous and doesn’t know how to get these particular words past his teeth. “You end up in the hospital more now than you ever did when we were kids.”

He whips back around to Midoriya, fast enough it sends pain shooting behind his eyes and down through his shoulders. He grits his teeth as it passes, even though Midoriya’s eyes go soft and concerned. He’s leaning forward in the barely-padded visitor chair, still scuffed and worn from the battle Shouto barely remembers, and thinks that can’t be right, can it?

He thinks back, traces the past few months, past few years in his mind. The fifth year anniversary of their graduation had come and gone with little fanfare not too long ago, all of 1-A that could get off of work crowding around a busy restaurant table. They’d poked fun at Midoriya and Bakugou and their new tug-of-war over the Number Two spot until the two (or Bakugou, really) had almost come to blows, and they had had to bow out of the establishment before someone called a camera crew.

But then he thinks beyond that. Thinks about how many times someone has had to call in Midoriya for this exact thing, especially after he had moved back here after he had shot up the rankings again. He closes his eyes and tries to remember if there has been a single month in the last year he hasn’t landed himself in the hospital, always over something minor, and can’t come up with a single stretch of time.

“Yeah,” he says, because he has nothing else to say in the face of the pit that has opened up in his stomach. “Being a pro is hard, Midoriya.”

 Midoriya laughs, bright and loud and utterly exhausted as he slumps back in the creaky hospital chair. “I know. I know! But still. Be careful out there. If not for you then for the rest of us.”

He smiles, wry and knowing, and hauls himself out his chair. There’s a pit yawning wide in Shouto’s stomach, numbness and horror warring for space in his chest, because what has he been doing, what has he been letting happen?

“I’m going to go let someone know you’re awake, okay?”

He just nods.

 xXx

Half a year passes before anything comes of his conversation with Midoriya, but he cannot get his words out of his head. He goes into situations at work just like he always does, throws himself into the line of fire like he has since he was a teenager, and cannot get the nagging voice in the back of his head to stop whispering, “you’re being reckless, you’re not trying hard enough, you need to be careful.”

He sits vigil over his coworkers when they get hurt and thinks nothing of it. It’s part of the job. He watches Midoriya get slung through drywall and crumble the brick behind it a month later. He feels cold and empty just long enough for the panic to set in, just long enough for him to get him to first responders and see Midoriya open hazy eyes as they bandage his face. He passes the neutralized villain to the authorities by complete muscle memory, and somehow makes his way to sit with Midoriya in the hospital until he wakes up from all the different healing quirks used to set his body to rights. When he wakes up, he doesn’t seem that upset about the whole affair, but then Shouto thinks back and realizes he hasn’t been hurt like this in over a year, and this is nothing compared to the damage that maps out his exposed arms.

He himself is nursing a bruise the size of a grapefruit along his ribs and got closer than he is comfortable admitting to hypothermia in the fight that took Midoriya out, and he’s not the one in the hospital bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asks Midoriya, hovering a chilled hand over Midoriya’s shoulder, where he knows bruises lay.

“Ah, I’m alright. It could have been worse, you know?” he says, and presses the bandaged skin into Shouto’s offered hand.

He doesn’t want to think about the alternate, could-have-been-worse situation. Instead, he amps up the power in his palm until Midoriya sags against his hand, a relieved sigh passing between his lips. “I do know. You’re still hurt.”

“Couldn’t’ve been avoided.” His words are slurred, all soft around the edges in pain relief and exhaustion.

It couldn’t have been avoided. He thinks about the bruise marring his ribs. He thinks about the concussion that had landed him in the hospital not that many months ago, and the other, minor concussions and sprains and bloody-blue-turned-purple bruises he’s taken home and wrapped because he took a hit he couldn’t, wouldn’t dodge.

He thinks about the way his very skin aches sometimes, in the mornings and after being out in the cold for too long.

“Maybe.” He says, and curls his fingers more securely over his bandaged shoulder.

 xXx

It goes on like that for a while, and he can’t quite figure out what hits are the ones he’s supposed to take and the ones that can be avoided. He watches his friends take hits day after day, throws his own body into the fray and comes out mostly unscathed. They went to school for this. He should have the answer to this by now, he thinks. He remembers answering questions about acceptable risk. But then, it’s all different in the field, now that it’s his job and his call and there are people he could save if he just got between the situation and them.  Midoriya’s words rattle around his brain at night, and he spends a lot of time making tiny sculptures of mishappen lions that melt in his palms as he thinks about what it means to put your all into a job and what it means to be reckless.

He figures it out all at once on a Thursday evening.

He’d been called in as backup for villain apprehension, what should have been textbook and a relatively safe position considering Midoriya and several sidekicks were the heroes taking point on the assignment.

One minute he’s helping shepherd civilians out of the wreckage, and the next minute he looks up and is met with a flying chunk of concrete coming right at him, rebar sticking out at lethal angles. There’s nowhere to go, no where for him to dodge and he’s protecting civilians besides.

So he just. Stands there.

Time seems to slow down to a crawl.

There is no fear.

The chunk of road is still flying at him, there are explosions in the distance, and there’s a hollow pit in his stomach.

This is how I die. He thinks. It isn’t a scary thought. After everything, this is how I die.

A voice, shouted loud enough to be heard over the boom of the explosions is what pulls him out of his stupor.

“Shouto!” It’s Midoriya. His voice is frantic and panicked and full of fear and his adrenaline kicks on pure instinct, and that’s when he remembers to do something.

His quirk manifests in his hands not a second too soon, a mini glacier freezing the oncoming boulder (and half the destroyed roadway) in place feet before it can hit him.

It is far, far too close for comfort.

Midoriya bounds over with a crackle of green lightning, sparing a brilliant smile for the remaining civilians before grabbing Shouto’s shoulder and turning him towards an awning for as close as they’ll get to privacy right now.

“Are you okay?” he asks lowly, and his eyes are wide and concerned despite the fact that neither of them have any noticeable injuries.

Except Shouto’s heart is beating so hard he’s surprised Midoriya can’t hear it, his right hand has completely frosted over despite his otherwise complete control over himself, and the hollow feeling he’s been carrying around since he can remember has just cracked wide open into something hot and raw and painful.

“I will be.” He says, voice rough, and it’s the truth even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“Okay.” Midoriya frowns, hand warm and heavy on his shoulder. “Okay. Just let me know.”

He doesn’t push any further, just squeezes Shouto’s shoulder and then heads off to take care of the rest of the civilians caught up in all this.

Shouto turns, chest aching and heart racing, and does the same.

He has a job to do.

 xXx

He is fine, or close to it. He sits in his living room hours later, heart still thumping hard in his chest and hand still icy against the rest of his skin, and bounces his phone against his thigh.

He is fine. He’s got a text message from Midoriya checking up on him and an email notification from their agency manager asking if he got checked out by a medic, and he’s ignoring both of them. The image of concrete rubble keeps flashing through his mind, jagged rebar tearing through the air at fatal speeds, and he can still feel the way his body wouldn’t move.

The way he just accepted it. Welcomed it.

He can’t call Midoriya. For all that he is his best friend, the thought of laying out the endless pit, the numbness that has plagued him since before he can remember scrapes him raw. He cannot face that boundless optimism with the cracked weight in his lungs right now.

But he cannot go on like this. The kind of indecision, the kind of recklessness, the kind of hopelessness, he had felt is going to do what Midoriya had warned him about sooner or later and get him killed.

This might have been the path he has always been on, the path he was set on and guided down, but maybe there’s another way. Maybe there’s something else out there for him.

He hits the unlock button on his phone and searches his contacts, looks for a number he hasn’t needed in a long time. Swallows down something like bitter pride, remembers if you ever need anything from days a little more fearful and chaotic, and hits call before he can talk himself out of it.

It rings four times before an answer.

“Aizawa.”

 “I-“ He cuts himself off.

“Are you safe?” He asks, urgent. The sounds of laughter trickle in over the phone’s tinny speaker, voices muffled but loud in the background. He had forgotten in the onslaught of his own personal numbness, but Eri would be starting high school by now. He still remembers her wrapped up in Mirio’s cape and Midoriya’s arms, and hearing her laugh muffled by the hallways of her home sends a surge of guilt through his chest for calling his teacher out of a happy, early retirement.

“Yes.” He answers, because he is physically safe. “I’m sorry. I—”

He feels like his words are falling from his mouth completely unbidden.

“What’s going on, Todoroki?”

 “What do you do when you can’t be a hero anymore?”

“Kid—"

“I don’t know if I was ever meant to be a hero in the first place.”

There’s a sigh on the other end of the line that seems like it releases every bit of air in Aizawa’s lungs.

“There are other options for you, Todoroki, other than hero work. You’re good at what you do, but this isn’t your only option, kid.” He sighs again, and this time it sounds just as tired but more accepting, more like contentment. “Trust me, there’s a life beyond your license. If you need to, get out while you can.”

Shouto takes a deep breath in, holds it, lets it out. In for eight, hold for four, out for eight. The cracking, aching pain in his chest that has replaced the numbness he has been carrying around since he can remember eases ever so slightly. It feels a little lighter, a little easier to breathe around.

“Okay.” He says, and his voice is rougher than he wants it to be. “Okay.”

“Let me get you a phone number to call, okay kid?” Aizawa says.

He hears a shriek of laughter and thundering footsteps in the background, and even before he finds a pen for the phone number, he can feel part of the weight weighing down his lungs chip off and away.

 xXx

He ends up talking to Hound Dog, who he wasn’t aware while he was in school but is not only a therapist but a licensed career counselor for the Gen-Ed and Business students along with dealing with the Heroics and Support kids’ course load.

Hound Dog starts the call with the ever professional “How can I help you?”

Which he appreciates more than he can say, because he saw Hound Dog more than anyone in his class except for maybe Midoriya and Bakugou, but it also grinds his brain to a complete and utter halt.

He hasn’t talked to Hound Dog since graduation. Unlike Aizawa, he hadn’t had a connection with him outside of their strictly professional one. He isn’t comfortable or familiar with the man. He cannot imagine making this call without the prompting he had gotten, and he wonders, wildly, if he would be freezing this much if he had made this call to someone with the exact same job title that he had never spoken to before.

He thinks the answer would be yes, considering he can’t get words out past his teeth.

“Hello?” The tone is worried, but not confused. He has a feeling this is not the first time someone has frozen on the other end of a phone call to Hound Dog. This isn’t even the first time Todoroki hasn’t been able to get his thoughts in line when talking to the man.

He clenches his fist, lets his nails press into his palms, and breaths so deep he thinks he can feel it in his toes. Thinks about the words he’s been rehearsing.

“Ah. Hello. I was calling to ask you how I could market my hero-course education and experience in a non-heroics field.”

He can hear the tap-tap-tap of a keyboard, and then, “I think I can help you out with that. Do you have any ideas for what you want to do, or are you just starting this process?”

His brain stutters to a halt again, his thoughts a whirl of—I don’t know, I haven’t thought this far ahead, this was all I was ever meant for, I don’t know what to do now—but it’s quicker to cut off that train of thought this time. He has his laptop open in front of him, and a pad of paper beside him. He resolutely doesn’t click the pen like he wants to.

“I don’t know exactly what I want to do yet. If you have ideas, I would welcome them.”

It comes out a lot steadier than he feels.

 xXx

He finishes the call over an hour later with about forty tabs open for different vocational programs, for local colleges with education and analyst and support programs, with a notepad with numbers to call if he has questions about programs.

He ends the call and breathes deep, the room around him dark except for his computer monitor. His resignation letter is typed and ready to print, glaring up at him from his Important Personal Documents folder.

He raises his hand over the little bowl he keeps on his desk to practice his sculptures.

With a rush of cold, the details are lacking. It wouldn’t win him any awards, but he thinks it looks like it’s meant to. A phoenix taking flight.

For the first time since he picked up his license, since maybe forever, the feeling carving space in his chest is hope.

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Jorja Smith has unveiled a standout new video for latest track ‘By Any Means’. The powerful video (directed by Otis Dominique and Ellington Hammond) shines a spotlight on communities across the UK, complimenting the track’s vital message around social issues and the civil rights movement. As noted by Jorja about the track: "The inspiration behind 'By Any Means' really came from going to the Black Lives Matter protest and leaving thinking, what can I do to keep this conversation going? It’s not just a post on social media, it's life.” ‘By Any Means’ is the first track to be unveiled from a new project titled ‘Reprise’, curated by the team at Roc Nation with the sole aim of bringing awareness to social justice issues. A portion of proceeds will go to funding organisations that support victims of police brutality, hate crimes, and other violations of civil rights. [via Dork]

Madison, WI-bred and Chicago-based band Slow Pulp recently announced Moveys, their self-produced debut album, and shared its first single 'Idaho.' Now the band shares another song off of the forthcoming record, entitled 'Falling Apart.' The track, featuring Alex G collaborator Molly Gemer on violin, is accompanied by a fantastical music video about feeling lost in a familiar landscape. Director Jake Lazovick, places Emily in a transient world, surrounded by flying objects and missing pieces. The clip features nostalgic animations, body doubles for social distancing purposes, and an homage to Massey's background as a ballet dancer. Read more about the song from Massey below: "As we were finishing up writing the album my parents got into a serious car accident and I came back home to help take care of them. A couple of weeks later COVID-19 started getting worse in the US, and quarantine began. Life felt completely surreal, everything had drastically changed and at such a rapid pace. It was especially strange because everyone was experiencing the same thing at the same time, but couldn’t be physically with each other to support each other. I felt like I couldn’t process any emotions I had about the whole ordeal because I had to keep it together to take care of my family. It became easier to stay numb, and create a facade that I was doing ok, than it was to release any type of healthy emotion for a long time. Luckily I did allow myself to have a full on breakdown induced by a stubbed toe and confusion over taxes, sometimes it’s the littlest things that finally get you."

Soap Detox met a party, and somehow their friendship sustained during the lengthy hangover that followed. A frisky Swedish three-piece with a lust for melody and good times, their raucous garage-pop is already making waves in their homeland. A full EP is incoming, with Soap Detox trailing this with their irresistible new single 'Give Me Gore'. A three minute fuzz pop wonder, it's a clanking, cheeky, subversive statement from a group who thrive on such things. The video features their shorn-headed lead singer in full form, accompanied by her band mates. Directed by Evelyn Del Carmen and Ebba Sylvan, you can check it out above. [via Clash]

It’s been a decade since we’ve heard from multi-hyphenate musician and producer The Angel, who last made a splash as a musician in 2009 with her single 'Ultra Light,' which featured the singer/producer Jhelisa on vocals. Focusing more on her career in film/TV composition and music production in recent years, she’s planning to return to recording her own music later this year with a new LP entitled Xtra Sensory Goodness. Now we’re getting the first taste of this project, which is yet another collaboration with the vocalist Jhelisa. “Jhelisa and I have become close friends over the years,” she explains. “There’s a lot of sisterly love and mutual respect between us, so Jhelisa already understood the mournful weight of the track before I asked to feature her. I’m always grateful that she’s willing to experiment with me because it’s not something she does lightly. Jhelisa beautifully channels the essence of whatever emotion needs to come through in the most evocative and visceral way.”  The song arrives beautifully packaged with an entrancing video directed by none other than Mark Pellington (along with co-directors Sergio Pinheiro and Sweeten), known for his concert docs for Pearl Jam, INXS, and The Flaming Lips, as well as an extensive music-videography including iconic visuals for Public Enemy, Nine Inch Nails, and plenty more artists. “I wanted the song to sound like a memory, like you’ve entered someone else’s dream space,” The Angel continues, noting how the video perfectly syncs to the song’s mood. “The emotion is contained, very internal, so I juxtaposed a vocal vulnerability against a driving, incessant rhythm, where you can feel the underlying tension at the same time as experiencing the gentle plea, ‘Where’s my shelter…?’” [via Flood]

A few weeks ago, Ciara gave birth to her son Win. Last night, she shared a video that she evidently recorded while she was very, very pregnant. Ciara’s new song 'Rooted' is a statement of Black pride, a clear statement of solidarity with the protest movement that’s swept across America and the rest of the world these past few months. It’s a hard, kinetic track with vocals from the songwriter Esther Dean. But the song, at least right now, feels more like a vehicle for the video. Like a lot of Ciara videos, the 'Rooted'” clip is built around bodies dancing. In this one, though, one of those bodies belongs to Ciara, who dances with her belly exposed and who looks like she’s about to give birth any second. To watch someone dance this hard while that pregnant is an actual marvel, a near-superhuman feat. The 'Rooted' video is full of Black iconography, and it features the faces of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. All throughout, Ciara presents an image of motherly strength. Annie Bercy directs. [via Stereogum]

Hazel English releases the new video for her single ‘Five And Dime’ taken from her debut album Wake UP! which is out now on Marathon Artists. ‘Five and Dime’ is a woozy, idyllic view into Hazel’s world, which is built on timeless-sounding melodies, retro-tinged soundscapes and a knack for resonant lyrics. The mid-tempo number is reminiscent of the playful love songs of ’60s pop, as Hazel frustratedly muses on a love interest who is consuming her thoughts and detracting from her focus, “Gotta get away cause you’re taking up all of my time / You know I need my space so I’m heading to the Five and Dime.” Speaking about the new video, Hazel says: “'Five and Dime' is about longing for escape and freedom so I thought it would be fun to create an idyllic beach vacation, constructed from a set with cardboard cut out waves and fake palm trees. The idea behind it is that while I'm fantasizing about escaping to a tropical place, it's clear I'm just kind of stuck in this pretend version of it. I wanted to evoke the nostalgia of Hollywood musicals from the '50s and '60s, complete with dance choreography and bright colourful costumes.”

Katy Perry has released her second video for 'Smile,' featuring the pop star playing a video game version of herself as she battles giant spiders, circus trapeze acts and more while dressed as a clown. Much of the video is in CGI, with a live-action Perry playing the video game in her house (while also dressed as a clown). [via Rolling Stone]

Global superstar, Miley Cyrus has unveiled 'Midnight Sky,' a track that showcases a new direction for the always evolving artist.  The song, which was inspired by the past year of her life, is accompanied by a video that Miley self-directed.  In creating the song and video, Miley drew from strong female musical icons, like Stevie Nicks, Joan Jett, and Debbie Harry, who have always been so generous, and have been her greatest allies and inspiration.  The video showcases Miley as her true self: unapologetic, diverse, sexy, confident, experimental, and strong. The video takes viewers through Miley’s creative vision which displays her complete control of the narrative often told through the mouths of the media. Miley is at peace with who she is and has nothing to prove. As a musician she continues to push boundaries and experiment with her sound and look. Miley has proven to be many things, but boring is not one of them.

Chelsea Collins is nonconformist pop singer with a vision. For the captivating new 'Water Run Dry,' a collaboration with rapper, singer and fellow Bay Area-native 24kGoldn, Collins's infectious pop melodies glide over a hypnotic beat. Relatable lyrics about a faltering relationship reveal a depth of experience for the 21-year-old, with a wistful chorus lamenting, "there's no good in goodbye." The Roxana Baldovin-directed visuals for the track are an eyeful — Collins and 24kGoldn play house in an oversized, colorful California dollhouse, interspersed with images of a little girl playing with literal Barbies. The message? "I wanted this song and video to execute the world that's inside of my head — somewhat similar to a weird vintage rom com where at first the drama of love is so toxic, passionate and thrilling but eventually my lover and I have a happy ending," Collins tells NYLON. "Unfortunately reality isn't as fun and it kinda feels like some cranky dude is controlling your path, who's lowkey salty whenever something feels too amazing," she continues. "My intuition will tell me to run, but I'm notorious for acting like a Stepford wife, trying to recreate my past feelings yet they're all super robotic. Maybe one day I'll get lucky and love won't have to be so bittersweet, but until then I'll learn to smile even when things blow up in my face." [via NYLON]

Kali Uchis shared the visuals for her latest single 'Aquí Yo Mando' on Monday. Featuring a verse in Spanglish by Rico Nasty, the single is Kali's first release since her TO FEEL ALIVE EP from earlier this year. The Phillipa Price-directed clip finds the pair on a weapons-filled rampage, dropping bodies in underground parking lots and filming each other along the way. With co-production by reggaeton hitmaker Tainy, the booming track sees Uchis assertively laying some ground rules over trappy 808s. "Haces todo lo que diga (You do everything that I say)," she raps. “Si estás conmigo solo mando yo (If you’re with me, only I call the shots).” [via The FADER]

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chspter 147

Chapter Summary - Tom talks to Ben and Danielle before a call from Danielle that concerns him

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine. All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @damalseer​ @hiddlesbitch1​ @winterisakiller​ @fairlightswiftly​ @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​ @black-ninja-blade

'So, how did she take it?’ Ben asked Tom as they went on the last part of their press tour for the movie. 'She seemed to be okay meeting everyone and the photographers were obsessed with her.’

'I am in the proverbial doghouse.’

'For which part?’

'Not warning her.’

'You didn't warn her beforehand?’ Ben asked, slightly shocked.

'I told her that there was literally deaths to come. She gathered that meant Loki too, but she was angered that one, I died so early into it after all the promotion work I have been in and two, how particularly graphic it was. Apparently, that deserved a warning. I argued it was Loki, not me, she argued that since Loki had my face, her brain did not see it that way.’

'Completely understandable.’ Tim looked at his friend. ‘No, really. Sophie saw me disintegrate but I was not the first one to do so, so she was prepared.’

'I think Holland was more heartbreaking for Elle than anyone else.’

'I think that was the point of keeping it in, to break everyone's heart. He was actually half excited to meet her.’

'I think she half adopted him as a younger brother.’ Tom chuckled. 'As soon as he said he was half Irish and showed her pictures of Tessa, they were talking for ages.’

'She seemed to get on with Olsen too.’ Ben watched Tom's reaction to his words, bit Tom merely nodded. 'Is that not a little weird, since you two...what was the story there?’

'Nothing serious is was happened.’ Tom state firmly. 'Elle could get on with anyone and yes, she and Elizabeth were very amiable to one another. Elle has this thing where before her is none of her concern and all she is bothered by is us as we are. As long as it is in the past, whatever happened is fine.’ He explained.

'You realise, if you ever do anything to mess this up, you'll be the biggest fool to ever exist, you know that?’

'No, I am never risking Elle, if it were up to me…I think it will be my biggest regret.’

'What?’

'Not allowing myself to love her sooner.’

'You have her now. Appreciate that.’ Ben commented, handing Tom his coffee. Tom nodded. 'So, no post-premiere fun for you last night then?’

'Stop bragging.’ Tom growled, remembering Danielle's less than impressed face as she walked into the house after more than once glaring at him at reference to Loki's demise.

Ben chuckled. 'How did the media take it?’

'According to Luke, fine. A few people attacking.’

‘Nothing new there.’

'And more seeing how beautiful she is and happy we are.’

'Did she choose green on purpose?’

'Yes, apparently she thought it apt.’ Tom smirked. 'She seemed to enjoy it for the most part. I mean, she was slightly terrified, I could feel her anxiety but she took it well.’

‘I think she looked well beside you.’ Ben smiled. 'She would look even better with a ring on her finger though.’ He licked his teeth as he teased Tom, who glared at him. 'You know, the more you show that bothers you, the more everyone, myself included, will tease you about it.’

*

'Hey.’ Danielle was out of breath on the other end of the phone. 'Sorry, long session.’

Tom frowned. Of late, Danielle had decreased her training. He rang her over an hour and a half ago and the way she was panting told him she was literally just finished. 'Hey, how are you?’

'Fucking bolloxed. How are things there? Did the interview go well?’

'Yes. It did.’ He smiled at Ben who sat beside him to text Sophie. 'What was the session?’

‘Swimming, so much fucking swimming. Then a ten k after, why the ever loving fuck did I agree to it?’

'Who convinced you to do that?’

'Mark, from work. I was just talking yesterday and he mentioned his wife was a swimmer and how he was trying to get her to do Tri's with him and we got talking and I was talking about how I need to improve my swimming, I told you how I wasn't happy with it.’

'The technique, wasn't it?’ Tom recalled.

'Exactly, well she does lessons too, she was really big in long-distance swimming for ages and I said we should work together on a few things if she is keen on doing some Tri, so here I am with them and putting myself through hell.’ She explained. 'I am dying. I am after getting so unfit.’

‘You have not.’

'Oh, I have. My muscles are not trying to save my feelings, they are telling me in no uncertain terms that I am.’ She laughed.

Tom chuckled. 'I am back in two days, we can see if you are recovered by then.’

'I have another swim and run session then, so I doubt it. I also have to go to Suffolk soon, do you want me to hold off or go tomorrow?’

'Leave it until I get back. What are you going for?’

'My bike, the one you got. I need to bring it to London.’

'Elle, are you training again?’ Tom asked curiously, having asked before about Danielle's triathlon training only to be told she ceased it due to work.

'I am.’

'That's good. Right?’

'Yes.’ There was uncertainty in her voice.

'Elle?’

'I did something stupid.’

'What did you do?’ Tom was unsure what the response would be. 'Elle?’

'Mark and Hannah were talking about it and in a rush of blood to the head I did it too.’

'Did what?’

'I signed up to a race.’

'Surely that's a good thing, right?’

'After a year plus off, I don't know.’

'When is it?’

'September.’

'Well, there is plenty of time to train yourself up again after the time off, that's months. What's the issue?’

'It's the Tenby Ironman.’

'Iron...you mean...?’

'Yes.’

'A full one?’

‘A 2.4-mile swim, then a 112-mile cycle and a marathon-length run to boot.’ She recited.

'Is she fucking insane?’ Ben, who had, by being so close to Tom, been half listening to the conversation, could not stop his reaction. 'Why would anyone do that?’

Tom was still processing the sheer distances. 'Elle, are you...why?’

'I always wanted to do one, now I feel I can.’ She explained.

Tim could hear something in her voice, he was uncertain if Danielle even knew it was there, but there was a slight hint of something that made him think something was not entirely right. 'Well, we better get your bike sorted.’ He made sure his tone was light and jovial. 'How will you juggle it with work?’

‘I wanted to talk to you about that. I am going to be taking less work for the next few months. I mean, I'll still be in charge of the office, I will still be the boss, but I...I have been asked to take time to do something else too.’

Tom frowned at the phone. 'Elle? What's going on?’

'I got made an offer. I want to take it.’

'What is it?’

'Remember when I assisted Waters with the whole thing after my course work?’

'Yes, I was the one to tell you your results last year.’

'I am being asked to be the foreperson for the new way it is done, they want me to take the time to do it, I have six months to write it. I want to take it.’

Tom didn't know what to say. 'Will you have to travel?’

'Only for the meetings in Safeguard. I will have to go to the office twice a week also, but I can work from wherever in the world I want. We can do the summer by the coast we were talking about.’

Tom's brows rose at that. He wanted them to get to Southampton for part of the summer because he had work there and he had wanted Danielle to come with him but she was concerned about work. 'That's incredible.’ He chuckled. 'Really, that's….that's incredible.’

'You approve?’

'Fuck yes, I approve. That's great.’

'I was worried you wouldn't.’ There was relief in her voice.

'No Elle, that's brilliant.’

‘The situation with the new guidelines?’

'Yes?’

'Tom, it's worth a small fortune, I... I cannot believe this. I'll be published for this. I will be cited material.’

Tom felt a surge of pride in his chest. ‘I can think of no one better, Elle. Between this and the Ironman, you'll be incredibly busy.’

'That's sort of the plan.’ That caused Tom's brows to furrow. 'I better let you get back to work, Love. Say hello to Ben for me. I better go home and get fed and changed here. I have to get some shopping in too, so I will talk to you before bed tonight okay?’

'Okay, Darling. I'll talk to you then.’ Tom stated.

'Love you.’ With that, and without waiting for a response, she hung up.

Tom took his phone from his ear and looked at it in time to see the words “call ended” on the screen.

'What's up?’

'I am not sure. There's something going on with Danielle.’

'In what way?’

‘I’m not entirely sure but there is something in her voice. For someone who is moving up at work and supposedly wants to do an Ironman, she does not seem overly enthused.’ He declared.

'You are probably reading way too much into it.’ Ben commented. 'If someone said I had to do a marathon after all that other stuff, I wouldn't be overly enthusiastic either.’

Tom did not respond, instead he looked at his phone.

Back in London, the smile that Danielle had forced on her face to talk to Tom fell off and she felt herself become consumed by her feelings once more. Starting the engine on her car, she considered what she could do to wear her out even more for the evening so she would collapse into bed and fall asleep rather than be awake with her thoughts. As "Human" by Christina Perri came on the radio, she swallowed as she focused on the words, barely able to stop her eyes welling up

[mere-mortifer-writing]

Dean Winchester/Reader ❧ Sweet Apology

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Dean Winchester/Reader; Dean Winchester/OFC Word count: 4874 | Chapter 1 of 3 Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content Tags: Fluff & Smut, a smidge of Angst; Misunderstandings; Porn with Feelings; Arguing; Reader has a crush on Dean  Summary: The plan was to watch a movie in Dean's room, but without Sam to help her feel less awkward, it's no surprise that she ends up saying something stupid - and make Dean think she dislikes him, of all things, when she has a gigantic crush on the guy. They start yelling at each other, soon enough they're kissing, and then - well, Dean's bed gets put to good use. It kind of sucks, though, that as soon as they're done Dean puts his clothes back on leaves her like nothing happened. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Well, not really. He's just absolutely clueless. I swear, if these two don't open their mouths and talk...

Beta’d by @mostly-shawn and @aingealcethlenn - Thank you so much for the help <3 

Read on Ao3 | Chapter Two coming soon

❧ Chapter One 

So, to summarize: she’s eating Fruity Loops, in an underground bunker, at the same table as two certified living legends in the hunting community. The monster hunting community, may she remind you in case you lost the memo.

She is, apparently, very good at identifying and theoretically killing said monsters – although God forbid they ever ask her to join in on the action. She admires Sam and Dean for what they do, but she's fine staying behind the scenes: rummaging through old lore books and giving herself a headache is as far as she'll go. She has proven herself useful in multiple occasions, so no shame there. 

Sam confessed to her, on the one memorable occasion when he had drunk enough to be tipsy, that he was more than happy she has to interest in hunting.

"It's my life and I love it", he said, "but it sucks all the ass and you shouldn't do it. Everyone fucking dies. If you got hurt I'd be sad about it for at least six months straight. I'd grow a beard and all." "What would Dean do?", she asked in morbid curiosity.  "'Dunno, drink and throw every chair and lamp he sees on the ground, maybe? He does that a lot. Just - never hunt, okay?" "I'll do it for the sake of your poor furniture", she responded, and she never changed her mind. 

Sorry, sometimes the crazy hits her all at once, and she needs to do a recap of the situation. Where was she? Oh, right: she was looking at Dean. (What else is new?)

Dean's sprawled on the wooden chair like a bored king, dead guy's robe at least two sizes too big on his broad shoulders. It's one of those rare instances where he slept well the night before, and he looks cozy and relaxed and roughly fifteen years younger than yesterday.

She's trying so hard not to openly stare at him that her cereal got all mushy in the meantime.

"Are you sure Jody can deal with this on her own?", Dean is saying, oblivious to her thoughts. "Seems to me like she's already got her hands full, with the girls and all."

On the other side of the table, Sam sips his coffee and nods. "Yeah, hopefully, it'll be just the one werewolf. I told Jody to call us if she finds out there's more going on."

"Hopefully there's not. Oh!" Dean slaps a celebratory hand on the table and grins. "That means we've got the day off! We could take advantage of that Netflix subscription we pay for." "Garth is paying – we're just leeching off of him. And I actually wanted to go for a run. Wanna come?" "Ugh." "Yeah, I thought so. You two can start without me, though. I'll join you later."

Oh, the mental image that double-meaning evokes!  But it’s more of a private joke with herself that anything – she likes Sam, obviously, if only because she's a straight woman with functioning eyes, but she doesn't have a crush. He’s tall and kind, and objectively attractive but he’s not… 

Her eyes fall on his brother's long fingers tapping on the table, his strong wrist peeking out of the robe’s sleeve, and she feels her stomach tie in knots. 

He’s not Dean, alright?

She didn’t ask not to have eyes but for him, and yet here she is: all moon-eyed over his wrist, of all things. 

Someone shoot her; it’d be a mercy killing at this point. 

Dean turns to her, all bright-eyed in his good mood. "What do you say, movie marathon? We could stay in my room, get comfy on the bed." Well, now, that makes her legs clench tight together under the table.  She knows she’ll have to answer very quickly because in a second she’ll start overthinking and find some excuse not to join Dean. In his bedroom, on his bed. Something she has never fantasized about, no sir. "Yes? Yeah, why not!", she exclaims, just a tad too loud. Oh my God, at least try to play it cool. Sam smirks from behind his cup, and she wonders for a moment if this "morning run" of his isn't just a ploy to leave her alone with his brother. Then Dean winks at her, and all other thoughts fly out of the window.  "Awesome. Come on, I'll even let you choose the movie."

❧ ☙

"I'll let you choose, he says," she huffs to herself. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror looks back at her with mild panic in her eyes. "Like that's not agonizing or anything."

God, she just wishes Dean didn't make her so damn nervous. How long has she known the Winchesters for? A year? She's even living with them, she should be past all – she clenches her fists, trying to calm herself – this. And still, Dean makes her heady and rattled just by looking at her for too long. She needs to get a grip.

While she brushes her teeth and washes her face, she settles on Kill Bill – which a) she knows Dean hasn't seen in years and b) should hopefully keep her attention away from his closeness. On his bed. Where she will also be.

God help her.

She walks out of the bathroom up to Dean's room. He's already propping his laptop on a bunch of pillows at the foot of the bed, humming a Metallica song under his breath. His eyes shoot up to her when she arrives.  "Hey! Did you choose the movie?", he says. He's still as carefree as she's ever seen him, but there's something in his voice that was missing during breakfast. A note of –  weariness? Hope? She can't decipher it. "Don't tell Sammy I said, but I could sit through a chick–flick without bitching too much if you wanna watch one.”  And if that isn’t proof he has a martyr complex... "Actually, I was thinking Kill Bill?" He beams up. "Oh hell yeah, haven't seen that one in ages." He finds the movie and hits play, settling down against the bed frame. She notices that he got rid of the robe and is now sitting in only a t–shirt and grey sweatpants. Oh please, no, she thinks, already feeling desperate. Fucking grey sweatpants, tight and revealing in all the right places, inviting her to look down, down...come on, just take a peek- 

She gingerly sits down at the opposite end of the bed, eyes straight ahead.  Despite the distance, she can smell Dean’s cologne (and what the fuck did he put cologne on for?), fresh and manly and very attractive – so much so that she forgets to focus on the film.  She's acutely aware of his presence beside her – of the warmth radiating from him, of how little space and layers there are between their bodies. She also notices him glancing at her from time to time, even though her gaze stays fixed on the computer screen.  Is she acting weird? Is that why he's looking at her? She's literally just sitting there, but maybe there's something on her face, or she's breathing too loud…that has never happened before, but who knows–

"I don't bite, you know?"  She's almost startled by Dean's voice interrupting her manic line of thought. He's now openly watching her, the small smile on his lips a mix between tentative and reassuring. "You can come closer if you want to. You're almost off the bed." She laughs nervously – damn, way to put her on the spot. But he’s right: she’s all bunched up on the corner of the bed, shaky hands hidden under her legs. "I, uh, didn't want to make you uncomfortable, that's all."  What the fuck does that even mean? One of Dean's eyebrows shot up his forehead, and his smile turns disbelieving. "Me? You're the one that looks like she has a gun pointed at her head." Her whole face heats up in embarrassment. He knows she's timid, and anyone who even glances in her direction knows she's head over heels for him – why does he have to put attention on it? "I'm just out of my depth here, you know I'm shy–" "Shy?" he interrupts her. "We've known each other for a year! And we both know you're not like this with Sam." 

Also very true, much to her chagrin – Sam has this puppy-dog aura to himself that makes him look smaller and non-threatening, at least when he’s in the company of friends. Dean...Dean doesn’t seem to have an off-switch, he’s always very unapologetically himself. Even when he’s acting like a total dork, he fills the entire room with his presence.

The mortification of being called out like this is making her eyes water, and Dean's unfaltering eye contact is not helping. "It's different with Sam," she tries to explain. What can she say without giving too much of her feelings away?  "Why? Have I done something bad to you?" he asks. “You’re always so – so skittish with me, it’s like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Dean has the most expressive eyes she has ever seen, and try as he might his feelings are always starkly clear on his face – like now, settling over the vibrant apple-green like an ugly shadow; disappointment and plain sadness. She really, really doesn't want to hurt him, and trips over her own thoughts in an attempt to say I'm not uncomfortable, I'm just in love and bad with feelings – but how to say it without spelling it out? 

"It's nothing you've done,” she tries, “it's just – you."

Oh, God. That came out awfully wrong.

Dean scoffs, breaking the eye contact to look at everything in the room but her. "Yeah, I figured," he snickers, "Could have just said no to watching the movie, then, sweetheart. You shouldn't have to spend time with people you dislike." Dislike? She almost can't believe the irony of the situation. "Dean, I don't dislike you, that's not what I meant." "You just said you have a problem with me as a person! Listen,” – he passes a hand over his mouth, like he does when he needs a second to find the words – “Listen, I don’t know what you heard about me, okay? Sometimes hunters pass through here, and maybe you got wind of some rumours. I’m the first one to admit I can be a douchebag from time to time, but they don’t know me. Hell, half of them I don’t even consider friends! And I thought, you.. well, whatever. You can go back where you came from if living with me is so damn unpleasant! ” Well, ouch. That one hurt. She stands from the bed, raising her voice to hide how close she is to tears.  They could have spent a nice day together, watching movies and eating popcorn from the same bowl or something, and then she had to go ahead and ruin everything.  And he's being so stubborn, God, but what else is new?  "Dean, what – rumours? You think this is about your reputation or something?” “I don’t know! You fucking tell me.” “Why do you wanna argue? You were in such a good mood two minutes ago-" "Yeah, I really was." He jumps off the bed and walks around it until he's face to face with her. "Excuse me if seeing you all – all scared of me kind of killed the mood!" "What? I'm not scared!" "Then why the fuck are you on the verge of tears right now?" "'Cause I'm sorry," she shouts to match his tone. He's standing so close; it's unfair how much it affects her. "I don’t find you scary, okay? I’m sorry I made you think that!" "Yeah, well, I’m sorry, too,” he shouts back. “Then why are we yelling?” “I have no idea!”

They both fall silent. Her mind is trying to process what the fuck just happened, why was she shouting in the first place when Dean is right there, not even five inches away –  eyes bright and fiery because of the argument, the hard line of his mouth relaxing as his expression changes. He looks down at her lips. Her breath catches in her throat. She feels paralyzed by how intensely she wants him at that moment, stuck between throwing caution to the wind or fleeing before she makes a fool of herself. But Dean hasn’t moved away, has he? If anything he’s inching closer, and he's looking at her like, like he, too…

Dean leans in and kisses her, a soft sigh leaving his nose when their lips touch.  He's so warm, is her first thought. Warm and big and solid against her, so much more substantial than in her fantasies – where he holds her just as tightly, kisses her just as deeply. Her hands tremble slightly as she goes to cup his face. God, it's happening for real. She bites on his full bottom lip with urgency, and he tugs her closer by the hips, pushing his tongue in her mouth. He’s not so much aggressive as he’s ardent, burning fast and bright on her skin like he hasn’t much time left – or like he’s waited too long, and he’s hell-bent on making himself unforgettable.

She isn’t sure she would like the pace, was he anyone else.  But oh God, he’s not anyone else, he’s Dean – and she wants, she wants, she wants him and won’t make excuses for liking this. Teeth, bruises, too-sharp nails; warm breaths mixing with hers, his fingers digging in wherever she’s softer and warmer. 

She passes a hand on the short hair at the nape of his neck, and she can feel goosebumps rise on his arms at the feeling. Dean gives her one last peck on the lips before hiding his face in the crook of her neck – he releases a shuddering sigh that makes her shiver, and nips at the skin behind her ear. His big hands settle on her legs, squeezing and palming the back of her thighs until she's raised to her tiptoes. "Hold on, baby," he says and picks her up from the ground.  Wrapped around his waist, she can feel his erection pressing on her core –  and she's never felt emptier and needier than right there with Dean, hard and panting, ready to fuck her against a wall.  "Oh God," she moans, and desperately paws at Dean's shirt to get some skin–on–skin contact.  He raises his face to watch her and chuckles at her efforts, grinding with more and more insistence against her.  "I know, I know," he hums, "I gotcha." He smiles that boyish adorable grin he sometimes does, and she's overwhelmed by both the rush of affection for him and the desire pooling low in her belly. 

She's about to say something undoubtedly stupid that would ruin everything –  she has the three words already formed on her lips, but they turn into a gasp when Dean twists around and lets her fall on the mattress. The cold sheets underneath her give some clarity back. Not that she keeps it for long, with Dean crawling between her open thighs, hair all fucked up by her hands. He gives her a long caress from her knees up to her waist and smiles again. "Always wanted you in my bed." Is this actually happening?, she thinks, incredulous. "Wh–Yeah?" "Why do you you think I proposed we watch something here?" He winks at her. "Sam wasn't home...I dunno, I felt lucky today." "...and then we ended up yelling at each other a bunch", she adds. Dean huffs a laugh and leans down to kiss her, deep and long enough she forgets what they were even talking about. "Doesn't that just count as foreplay?"  "I don't think so, no." Dean beams at her, eyes glinting with something dangerous. "No? How about this, then?", he says, and licks a hot strip on her neck before sucking a mark there. The sharp feeling of his teeth on her sensitive skin makes her back arch closer to his chest. "Or this?" One of his hands sneaks under her shirt, slow and teasing. Dean's fingers splay wide on her stomach on their way up, and she's never hated a piece of clothing more than her bra when it stops the contact. She wants everything off, wants to feel him really touch her. "Oh, fuck," she gasps. "Dean– Dean, take this off." He groans against her collarbone, voice low and rumbly, before leaning back on his knees. "Mmh, yeah. Yes, ma'am. Can you roll over?" The thought of Dean pressed long and wide along her back makes her toes curl, and she gladly turns around. 

She realizes Uma Thurman is still swinging her katana on the computer screen, so she takes a second to close the laptop. There's the swishing of fabric behind her, probably Dean shimming out of his sweatpants and shirt while she can't see him. She goes to undress as well, but two warm hands on her hips stop her. "No, wait, I wanna do it," Dean says. “‘Kay?” Oh God, this man is gonna be the death of her. "Yes, please."

Dean scoots closer, his knees on either side of hers, erection pressed on the small of her back. He briefly hugs her to his chest while he leaves a kiss on her hair, squeezing a bit before he lets her go. She swallows back a whimper at the feeling – not because it brings any real pleasure, but because of Dean's unguarded desire behind the gesture. He’s slowed down the pace, maybe for her benefit, maybe for his own.  God, she's there, with Dean. Unbelievable. She wants him so much she could cry. 

Nuzzling her neck, he helps her take off her shirt, and then – faster, cause he's seductive, yes, but also earnest and enthusiastic – he unclasps her bra, and it falls on the bed. She gets why he asked her to turn around, conscious that her shyness would, at least at first, follow her even in bed: like this, she can't see him watching, and her instinct to hide from him is stifled.  Not that she had nothing to worry about: Dean just sighs softly and cups her breasts in his hands, a smile splitting his face at how soft and hot her skin is. 

Her leggings go next, tugged down roughly by herself, 'cause suddenly she really, really needs to be naked so he can touch her everywhere.  She leans forward on the bed, face pressing on a pillow as she shimmies out of her pants.  Dean huffs a laugh behind her. "These are very sexy," he comments, hooking his fingers on the edge of her underwear. Which is ridiculous, cause she has on the most boring pair of black undies ever produced.  Goes to show with how little Dean is pleased.  Instead of taking the last piece of offending clothing off, he slides two fingers up and down her folds, pushing in a little through the fabric.  "So wet already," he says, “and I haven't even touched you yet." His voice has gone low and rumbly and that, coupled with his fingers, makes her that much wetter.  “‘Cause I want you,” she mumbles in the pillow, stating the obvious. She rocks backs on his hand, inviting. “You know, I-” “Yeah, baby?” Oh God, he called me baby, she thinks a bit hysterically. She bites back the embarrassment and tries to find somewhere the courage to finish the sentence. “You know, I - I think of you when I touch myself.”

There it is, out in the open. Just how ridiculously attracted to him she is. 

His movements stutter; when she angles her head so that she can see his face, she finds him already watching her with such intense, naked longing in his eyes, she has to feel proud. It’s getting to her head, feeling wanted like this. “What?” he asks, finally sliding off her underwear. He’s already naked, and as soon as the panties hit the mattress she pushes back until she’s flush with him – his erection is pressed in the cleft of her ass, getting smeared with her wetness when she starts undulating her hips. “What- fuck,” Dean tries again, distracted by what she’s doing. “Mmh, what do you think about?” God, she’s burning up, and she’s so damn empty without him inside of her. “I don’t know, uh - Your fingers?” Dean circles an arm around her and sneaks his hand down her belly until he can touch her clit, middle and forefinger forming slow circles in time with her hips. “Yes, yes like that, fuck,” she gasps. She decides, there and then, to tell him a secret. 

“One time, one time we were at that diner together, Sam and Cas were there as well...And you had that red shirt on, and you must have spent some time on your hair, ‘cause it was – I don’t know, Dean, you were just so beautiful. I was sitting right in front of you. You were flirting with the waitress, and I thought, I thought ‘God, what if I took my shoe off, and slid my foot all the way up his leg and then, when he looks at me, confused, pretend I’m not doing anything?’ And I kept thinking about it, ‘cause you weren’t looking at me anyway.  What if I made you hard, there in public, but you had to keep your face straight and not react? And then, what if you grasped my ankle under the table like a warning to stop, but you still pushed back to have more friction, blushing that pretty red when Sam asked you if were okay? And you know what, Dean?” She pauses a second, lost in the fantasy and the feeling of his hands on her. “I would have stopped without a word. I would have left you there, wouldn’t have even acknowledged what I was doing by glancing at you – I would have stood up, with you still hard in your jeans in that cute, family-friendly diner, and I would have said “Sorry, gotta powder my nose” or something just as stupid, to look even more annoyingly innocent –  and then I would have gone to the bathroom. And waited for you to follow me, so you could fuck me in one of the stalls, my hand on your mouth to keep you quiet, hoping against hope that no one would come in, or hear us, or interrupt us before you could cum so deep inside me I would have felt you for days-”

Dean moves away from her, one hand to keep her still. “Okay, okay, that’s- that's enough for now." His free hand is at the base of his dick, squeezing a bit as he calms down. He’s breathing fast, lips bitten red and freckles standing out against the flush on his face. He is, quite possibly, the hottest thing she has ever seen. And she did that. “You little- I think I remember that day, fuck. That’s what you were thinking? Jesus.”  He briefly rummages in the bedside drawer and comes back to the bed with a condom.  “Is like this okay?” he asks, and helps her up from where she was sprawled on the bed.  She considers whether or not her legs will hold her up in this position, and figures that after that spiel she deserves to be a bit of a pillow princess – Dean will hold her up if he needs to. With those strong, muscular arms of his. Mmh, God bless his biceps... So she hums “yes,”  and hooks her feet around his calves to feel him closer. 

She looks back at him as he goes in, and more than the feeling of Dean sliding into her, she'll never forget how his eyes flutter close in a pained frown, like it feels so good it hurts; like he’s somehow surprised by the pleasure.  And then he moves, and her eyes just close on their own at the feeling. Everything’s just burning hot – Dean inside her, his hands touching everywhere on her body, his forehead pressed between her shoulders when he leans down.  “‘Missed this,” he mumbles on her skin. “I always forget how good it is.” 

Which would be, was this a different setting, an unwelcome reminder of how many women have been under him before her. Right now, with him groaning and moaning in her ear? She couldn’t care less.

The pace picks up - and, really, Dean’s a very proportionate man, and, in that position, he goes too deep for comfort. At a particularly hard thrust, she whimpers in pain. “You okay?” he asks, worried fingers moving the hair out of her face.  “Yeah, ‘s okay. Just-” “I hurt you,” he interjects, and helps her up. “Get closer to the headboard? Alright, let’s try it like this.”  On her knees, with her arms balancing her weight on the wall, the angle changes drastically. Dean slides back into her, this time pressed on her in a long line from shoulders to knees, and hooks his chin on her shoulder. “Better?”

“Way better,” she says, and smiles at his happy sigh. 

There’s not much she could tell you about the rest, not without interrupting herself every two seconds by grinning and blushing. It just feels good. It feels amazing.  Dean’s experience is evident in his every move, and he doesn’t let her forget for a second exactly who’s she with –  in that too-hot bedroom with weapons decorating the wall, giving a memory foam mattress a run for its money.  She says his name probably too many times, and some ridiculous praise comes out of her mouth once in a while, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind; he bites her neck too hard, at one point, and it hurts but she loves it, the proof that he has lost himself completely in her body.  And Dean builds her up and up, with his voice and his fingers and his cock, until she shudders and cums around him. 

She briefly loses sense of time, feeling only Dean thrusting into her faster and deeper and with a faltering rhythm – when she comes back to herself, he’s slipping out of her with a groaned “Jesus Christ.”

She lies down on her back, panting as she watches him throw away the condom in a small bin beside the bed. All those good chemicals that come with an orgasm are making her feel more naked than a simple lack of clothes – Dean turns back to her, and she has the impression that he can see right through her skin and bones; that all the feelings that surely will scare him off are sprawled out on the bed like heavy, uncomfortable blanket. 

She feels both amazing and scrubbed raw at the same time. She really needs Dean to take her in his arm before she starts crying, which is becoming more and more probable by the second. 

Instead, his attention falls on his phone, bleeping away on the bedside table. “Twelve messages?”, he says when he picks it up. They’re from Sam, which becomes obvious when he reads them instead of chucking the phone at the end of the bed; she watches him frown as he scrolls down. “Ugh, fuck. It’s Sam; Jody apparently needs back up after all. Five werewolves? Well, shit.”

She doesn’t say anything and busies herself by sliding under the blanket. 

She doesn’t like to think of Jody in danger, but she likes even less where this is going. Dean is putting his boxers back on, and clean clothes from his drawer. Oh, wow, look at all that flannel. Does he have an endless supply or something? “I gotta go,” he explains. No shit, Sherlock. “Hey, it was awesome,” he tells her as he puts a belt on, nonchalant as if he was talking about a very good burger. “Just- awesome. Shit, I’m so late already, Sam’s gonna bitch all the way to Sioux Falls. See you in a few days?” She nods, a bit jaded by the sudden change in scenario – from one with Dean naked in bed with her to one where he’s leaving as if nothing happened –  and he smiles and winks at her. 

And then he’s gone. 

Maybe she spends the next hour on the verge of tears, hugging his pillow and watching the rest of Kill Bill as a distraction, but that’s not really any of your business.  She gets up, eventually, and puts her clothes back on even if the bunker is empty. She does what feels like a walk of shame back to her room and straight to her shower. She washes off, with her favourite lavender-scented soap, all the signs of the past few hours off of her skin. Like it was a random guy. Like it was just a one-off. 

Thank you very much, ma’am, it has been fun while it lasted. 

“I gotta go.”

Well, alright. Goodbye stranger, then. 

❧ ☙

I hope you guys enjoyed it! I cherish every comment and reblog, feedback really motivates me to keep writing <3 I especially appreciate comments on characterization, I tried to keep Dean as IC as possible :) Let me know what you think! 

Tags from @spnfanficpond‘s Tag List under the cut - apologies if I tagged someone who’s not interested in Dean/Reader’s by mistake!

If someone wants to be tagged in the next chapter, let me know <3 

@aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @notnaturalanahi @bkwrm523 @deanscarlett @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @samsgoddess  @frenchybell  @deandoesthingstome  @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @quiddy-writes @supermoonpanda @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @evilskank-inthemegacoven @clueless-gold @bennyyh @winchestersmolder @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean @deanwinchesterxreader @winchester-family-business @winecatsandpizza @there-must-be-a-lock @cas-backwards-tie @emoryhemsworth @just-another-winchester

[4birds-of-a-feather]

Chapter 27 - Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight (when it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night) [part 1]

Birds Of a Feather

(title credits: What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?, Ella Fitzgerald)

Eddie had almost finished his third cigarette when, from the distance, he noticed a silhouette running in his direction while waving its arms around – his lips curled into a smile and, before he had completely crushed the cig under a boot, the person had finally reached him. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Ed” Sara managed to mutter, panting like she had just run the New York Marathon “I had to bring The Godfather I and II back – and you know how Video Isle is literally on the other side of town – and then I caught a bus at the last second and also literally threw myself off of it when it didn’t seem to stop at that bus stop over there and-” “Hey, no problem at all: I already bought the tickets for both of us-no, don’t start with all that ‘you didn’t need to buy mine too’ bullshit, I wanted to do it” he stopped her protests, gaining a snort and a scowl from the girl (though her red cheeks and nose didn’t manage to make her look threatening in the least) “I’m sorry you had to go to the trouble of going to another store, sounds like you had quite the Odyssey” “Nah, don’t worry: it was quite good, I also found a couple of movies that I need for an exam and that El hasn’t been able to book for me, so it’s a total win-win” she grinned at him, taking the ticket he was handing to her and suddenly running toward the entrance “Popcorn is on me and that’s mandatory!” The guy shook his head laughing but followed her nonetheless.

************************************************************************************************ Layla was standing in the middle of her room, carefully examining the pile of clothes she had scattered on the bed. “Ok, I gotta make a selection now or I will still be here for the midnight countdown” she sighed and started grabbing and putting stuff back in the closet. “It’s New Year’s Eve so no sad colors… and no pants!” she put away all her pants and jeans, leaving out the skirts. The girl held up her denim mini skirt and let out a brief cackle as she remembered Eddie’s drunk rant about that particular piece of clothing; she shook her head and put the skirt away, then spotted a blue velvet micro dress. “... Jesus, I totally forgot this even existed” she recalled having worn it only twice, and both times it was with her ex boyfriend. The memory immediately made her throw the dress back into the closet, although she told herself the reason was it was a little too skimpy for a house party. “What about this?” Layla was now looking at a red lacey longsleeve, walked over to the mirror and held the top against herself to see if it could go. “Yeah, the color is great! But I’ll need a darker skirt to match” the choice fell on a black leather skirt which was basically the shortest one she owned. “Uhm… will it be too much?” she ended up trying on the skirt over her house clothes “Nuh, not that bad: nude tights and Docs and it’ll go” she clapped her hands and the doorbell rang right at that moment. Layla went to see who it was and didn’t think too much about it. “Hi, guys! Thank you for coming to help setting things up but you didn’t need to show up so early” she excitedly told Mike and Elias, letting them in. “Early? You told us like twenty times to be here at half past five, I even set an alarm! Anyway, very nice choice, you look great” Elias smirked, eyeing the girl from head to toe. Mike couldn’t punch him because his hands were busy carrying a big box full of stuff for the party and instead was about to stomp not so lightly on his foot but Layla was too shocked to be concerned with her Earth Day t-shirt stuck into her skirt and grey track pants underneath. “HALF PAST FIVE?? IS IT HALF PAST FIVE ALREADY?!” she started hyperventilating and bolted into her room, leaving the two guys standing dumbfounded in the hallway. “AND WHERE IS STONE?” she asked her friends as she passed them by again, sprinting into Sara’s – once Jeff’s – room. “He’s parking the car, he’ll be here in a minute… errrrr-where can I put this stuff?” McCready asked, struggling to keep the balance because of the heavy carriage. “Oh! Thank you Mikey, give it to me” Layla came out and snatched the box from the guitarist’s hands, then carried it easily to the kitchen as it weighed nothing, something that made him suddenly feel self-conscious. “I love strong women” Elias remarked and this time Mike was able to slap him on the nape. 

************************************************************************************************ “So… no Tom Hagen? He dies before the movie can even start? Just like that?” Ed muttered in disbelief, his mouth half-full with popcorn. “Fuckin’ bullshit, I can’t believe it...” the girl shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose in order to find some patience to endure the outrageous truth “They had the nerve to tell both my second favorite character of the whole saga and Robert Duvall to fuck off! Who let this happen??” “But who’s gonna be the new Consigliere? I mean, he was a brilliant lawyer and has worked with three Dons, how can you substitute someone like-” “I fuckin’ knew that filming this goddamn thing after 15 years would have meant turning everything into a giant pile of shit… Fuck my life” Sara sighed, dejectedly watching Sofia Coppola awkwardly flirting on screen with Andy García “UGH, look at her! She looks constipated, just look at her disgusted expression…! I can’t keep on watching this, who the fuck allowed this casting?!” “... did you seriously just ask me why the director’s daughter was chosen for a part in her father’s movie?” 

************************************************************************************************ “The number 1 should be a little more to the left, it’s too close to the 9… Yes, a little bit more… No, too much! Yeah, that’s it, Layla, good” Stone was leaning against the wall in the living room eating popcorn, giving orders to his friends “Elias, would you please stop checking her but-ehm, I mean, holding her ladder? It’s pretty safe, she doesn’t need your help. But those sparkly banners do, they won’t hang up by themselves... And come on Mike, with those balloons! We don’t have the whole day” “Are you kidding me? I’ve been blowing fucking balloons for an hour, I’ll have no breath left by the new year’s countdown!” Mike protested. “Ok, Mikey, don’t get all worked up for nothing. I was just saying that… you could do it a little bit faster maybe, I don’t know” Gossard innocently remarked with a shrug. “FASTER?? WHY DON’T YOU DO WHAT YOU’RE DOING A LITTLE BIT FASTER TOO? OH WAIT, YOU CAN’T, BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT DOING ANYTHING!” Mike blurted out, throwing a deflated balloon towards the other guitarist that missed the target and hit the wall beside him. “Oh oh pleeeease, you had no idea what to do before I arrived... You’d still be unpacking and playing with those party hats if I didn’t come and tell you what to do” Stone chuckled and Mike took a deep breath. “Come on guys, each one of us has a task” Layla tried to calm the two guitarists. “Yeah, Stone’s task is to get on people’s nerves” Elias remarked. “... And Mike’s and Elias’s task was to stick party cones into their noses, right?” Gossard smirked. “Actually, I had them in my ears” Elias pointed out and Layla rolled her eyes and got down from the ladder. “There! What do you think?” the girl looked proudly at the big number-shaped balloons she had just hung on the wall. “Uhm, well…” Mike mumbled something as Elias simply squinted at the decoration. “I think… that I really can’t wait for the Versailles Peace Conference, Jesus!” Stone exclaimed, barely holding back a laugh. “... What?” Layla frowned. “Your eyes are pretty, El, but I think you should put your glasses on” the guitarist kept on teasing her while the other two were shaking with laughters. Layla took the glasses she had left on the kitchen table, put them on and just snorted when she read 1919.

************************************************************************************************ “She’s useless but I love how she’s dressed – the yellow skirt was so pretty too!” Sara gushed over Mary Corleone’s latest outfit, a black tailleur matched with a cute hat of the same shade “... Holy Vittorio De Sica, I’m spending too much time with Maux” “Who’s Maux?” “Just a friend of mine who studies Fashion Design… now please, shut the fuck up because I wanna see if this storyline is heading where I think it’s heading – please, for once in my life I’d really like to be wrong about something” “Hmm-hm, judging from the sultry looks I think they’re almost there” Eddie munched a few popcorn, his grin growing wider when he heard her almost retch. “Oh yes, we Italian people get horny while making pasta together! Look at that chemistry born amongst the flour and-wait a minute, is he sobbing because he’s gettin’ an erection over his cousin??? I’m not watching this, I won’t be an accomplice to this disgust-EW, ABORT!” she covered her eyes but kept on peeping through her fingers, while the guy let out a hearty chuckle. “Didn’t know you guys had such strong bonds with your cousins…” he teased her, laughing even more when she let out a torrent of words that he couldn’t understand but that he knew were the best insults she could muster at that moment. At the end of the projection he had to ask for their translation, he simply had to. 

************************************************************************************************ “I’m home!” Jeff yelled as he shut the door with a kick, since he was carrying shopping bags and couldn’t use his hands. “Hi, Jeff!” Layla answered from the living room. She had just arranged the balloon-numbers in the right order and now was laying a red cloth on the large table “Oh, and be careful to the-” She couldn’t even finish the sentence and Ament got caught in the gold foil curtain Mike had just hung over the doorway. “WHAT THE… WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” the bass player struggled to get free and almost let the groceries fall but instead managed to save them and enter the room. “It was Layla’s idea!” Elias raised his hands as he made eye contact with him. “Well, isn’t it nice? A magical entrance to a magical party!” Layla grinned nervously and made a mental note of getting back at him on the first occasion. “Yeah yeah, you know what would be very magical? SOMEONE HELPING ME WITH THESE FUCKING BAGS!” Jeff struggled to reach the kitchen until the girl finally helped him. “Thank you Jeff, you’re the best! Did you find everything?” she asked as she started to pick up the food from the paper bags. “Yeah… pretty much…” “He surely found the most important stuff!” Stone added from outside the kitchen, as he was bringing up beer and wine cases he and Mike had unloaded from Jeff’s truck. “Oh, you took whipped cream too! Good idea, Jeff! I can use it for something last-minute” Layla remarked as she took the can out of the bag. “Thanks but I didn’t do anything, it was on the list” Ament shrugged nonchalantly. “No, it wasn’t” “Yes, it was” he repeated and was about to help her, but the girl started rummaging faster and faster through the bags until she nervously tore the last one off Jeff’s hands. “No no no… tell me it’s a joke” “What the fuck is wrong with you now?” Jeff earned judgemental looks from his friends and corrected himself “Err-I mean, what are you looking for, darling?” “Whipping cream. Where is it?” “It’s right there in front of you” the bass player repeated as he pointed at the same can the girl mentioned before. “No, it’s not. That is whipped cream – I asked you for whipping cream, that’s what I wrote in the list” Layla almost whined. “Isn’t it just the same?” Mike asked, hoping not to start a war with that. “NO! I wanted to make chocolate ganache” she explained as it was the simplest thing in the world. “And… so?” it was Stone who broke the tumbleweed moment of silence. “You can’t make ganache with whipped cream, how will the chocolate melt? You gotta boil whipping cream and add chocolate and butter” “Uhm you… can’t you just microwave chocolate and then, you know, mix it with the whipped cream?” Elias came up with a solution and Jeff could see one of Layla’s eyes starting to nervously twitch. “No. I can’t do that.” she said and everyone took a sigh of relief because they were already expecting the worst reaction. “Do you think you can come up with a different recipe for the cakes, Layla?” Stone asked cautiously “If you can’t, I’m sure Jeff will be glad to go out and buy the right cream for you – right, Jeffrey?” “Fat chance” mumbled his bandmate. “Oh no, it’s freezing out there, I’ll never let you go out again just for that. I’ll think about something else” the girl was now her usually sweet self and just shrugged. <Disaster averted> Mike thought as he went back to help Stone with putting away alcohol in the kitchen. “Jeff, please, since you’re here, would you please move the furniture as I start cooking?” the girl asked him. <He can’t read shopping lists but at least he’s strong> “Why is this my apartment and you’re the one giving all the orders?” he squinted at her and Layla took him by the arm and led him to the middle of the living room. “Jeff, please! Ehm… do you really think I could ask those three?” she whispered and they both looked towards the kitchen, where Elias was spraying whipped cream in his open mouth directly from the can. “... Alright” he nodded and took off his jacket. “I’ll begin with the appetizers, so we can put them on the table and make space here” the girl added, walking back into the kitchen. <Maybe she won’t notice I ate all the bugles on the way home…> the bassist thought as he put his hands on the backrest of the armchair.

************************************************************************************************ “The Italian Communist Party welcoming the Corleones to Sicily with a banner! This is glorious, I’m so glad I didn’t miss it” Sara exclaimed, her sides already hurting because she was laughing too much. “Oh, so now you’re glad you’re watching this mess?” “Ed, you can’t understand: this is simply hysterical, it’s even better than hearing that pathetic excuse they keep on using as Italian languag-like that! Did you hear it? Oh fuck, it was so bad… I just wanna cry” “You sure look like someone who’s enjoying this” “Fake laughter to hide my real pain” she clutched dramatically at her chest, one hand flying towards her face in a gesture of exaggerated discomfort.

************************************************************************************************ “MIKEY! CAN YOU COME HERE, PLEEEASE!” the guys heard Layla call and the girl startled the guitarist right when he was about to grab something to eat from the table. <What the fuck? Did she put cameras?> McCready thought, as he looked up around the living room. “Hahaha, it’s not like she can see you, you dork” Jeff laughed. “Actually, she doesn’t need to see you, she already knows what you were doing” Stone remarks. “Now you’re screwed, man” Elias shook his head and then he happily put a sandwich in his mouth. “MIIIIIKE!” “Why only me and not you?” the guitarist complained as he watched him stuffing his face freely. “Sorry” Elias shrugged and the other two snickered in silence. “ALRIGHT, WHERE ARE YOU, LAYLA?” Mike timidly yelled as he was about to leave the room. “I’M IN MY ROOM, CAN YOU COME HELP ME WITH SOMETHING?” Mike smiled to himself. <Maybe she’s not calling me to scold me for stealing food, but it can be a tactical move… I’d better not let the guard off> “Hey! Maybe I can come help her too now that I-” Elias started to say but Mike put his finger against his mouth. “Sorry!” he exclaimed, then shrugged cheerfully and started to walk across the hallway, up to Layla’s bedroom, where he knocked on the door. “Come in!” the girl let Mike in, then shut the door right behind his back and whispered to the singer “Did you manage to go to the hardware store? You know, to buy those things I asked you?” “Oh! Yes, I did! I had almost forgot, sorry” McCready confirmed. “And you didn’t say or show anything to the guys, right? You know it was a secret, don’t you?” Layla wiggled her brows and he nodded, although he still wasn’t sure what she would need that weird toolkit for. “Sure, I kept it all hidden and slipped the bag into Jeff’s-I mean, Sara’s room as you asked” he replied. “Well done! Thank you, Mikey. You can go back with the guys now” “You’re not gonna kill me for stealing food, then?” “DID YOU STEAL FOOD? Come on, it’s for the party!” the girl’s smile disappeared from her face all of a sudden. “Of course not! I was just kidding! Gotta go now… see what those jerks are up to, you know” Mike left the room both awkwardly and quickly and Layla sighed, then left too and tiptoed to Sara’s room, sneaking in. She looked at the cute and fancy jumpsuit she had picked from Sara’s closet and remembered when she first saw it: Sara had spotted it at a thrift shop where they had gone together and had fallen in love with it instantly. It was ocean blue, sleeveless and with golden decorations embroidered all over it that represented the zodiac signs. It was simply adorable and, seeing her friend doing puppy eyes at the garment, Layla had immediately decided to buy it for her as a present. But Sara hadn’t worn it once yet. <I wanna see my present finally put into good use…> she thought <This is gonna be the perfect occasion> The only problem was: would Sara agree with Layla’s decision? That was why she had Mike buy her something that could give Sara a little push in the right direction…

************************************************************************************************ On screen Mary Corleone had just fallen under the bullets, while her mother’s desperate cries were already filling the air. Sara was about to give a sarcastic comment on Andy García’s monotone shout, when suddenly the first notes of Cavalleria Rusticana started to play; she immediately forgot her previous idea and focused her entire attention on what was happening on screen: Al Pacino was silently screaming into the void – the perfect embodiment of suffering, just like the famous Munch’s painting – and kept on doing it for forty endless seconds, until he let himself collapse on the stairs. She felt a shiver down her spine. Then, just when she had remembered to breath again, the screen erupted with images of Michael Corleone dancing with his daughter, but with Apollonia and Kay too – and all of that melted as she felt some tears rolling down her cheeks. Now Michael was sitting outside, very much older and still reminiscing much happier times of his life, and the crescendo of the music accompanied his fall on the ground – just like his father had once done. By the end of the scene, Sara was sobbing uncontrollably.     

************************************************************************************************ The doorbell rang and Stone went to open the door since Jeff was helping Elias with the stereo (that is, Jeff was doing all the work) and Mike was busy in the kitchen with Layla. The girl smartly decided that the best way to keep an eye on him and prevent him from finishing all the food before the party even started was to make him work. “HO HO HO SANTA’S HERE!” a feisty Cornell appeared outside the door, holding a case of beer and waving it around dangerously as if he was ringing a Christmas bell. “Christmas was last week, Chris” Stone smirked and backed away a little from the door. “Oh, did I say Santa? I meant Satan. SATAN’S HERE!” “Hail, Satan! Give it to me” Jeff showed up and took the beer from Cornell’s hands to prevent a disaster, then went to put it in the fridge. “Don’t tell me I’m the first party guest… that’s so… not cool” Chris stated after he tried to enter the living room and got stuck in the middle of the foil curtain, only to be untangled and saved by Elias, who had come to the rescue. “It’s still early! Hi, Chris” Layla came out of the kitchen, cleaning her hands on the apron she had put over her fancy outfit. “I correct myself. That’s a good thing I came early so I can take my time to introduce myself properly to this beautiful piece of princess!” Chris took the girl’s hand and half of his speech was actually mumbled against Layla’s fingers, before he actually kissed her hand in a long romantic gesture. “Err… ok” Layla half smiled, not knowing what to do as she waited to get her hand back. “You may be the first one at this party but I guess you started a party on your own way before” Stone remarked and Jeff chuckled. “Forgive them, honey. They’re like… like… how do you call ‘em? You know, the Flintstones…” Chris kept ranting, keeping Layla’s hands in hostage. “... Cavemen?” Elias suggested. “Cavemen! Exactly! They don’t know the manners” the singer snapped his fingers at the correct answer then gave Layla a drunk smile. “And you know them so well, you use them every single time, right?” the bassist joked. He couldn’t decide what was more funny: Cornell’s intoxicated state or Layla’s awkwardness. He set up for both and went on to enjoy the show. “What the-” the singer frowned but was then interrupted by Mike, who wanted to spare him the embarrassment. “What Jeff and Stone are trying to say is that you already know Miss Boulais here” “Who?” “Layla” Mike repeated. “The girl who must have a desensitized hand by now” Stone added and pointed at the girl in the center of the room. “Oh sorry, darling!” Chris let go of Layla’s hand and then continued, turning to look at the guys and pointing at the girl, as if she couldn’t hear him “Anyway, what the fuck are you talking about?! I’d remember if I had met... such a… a megababe like this before” “I introduced you and Matt to her and her friend, Sara, don’t you remember?” McCready explained. “Another one? Was it a babefest or something?” Cornell kept on whispering in an actually very loud way. “They’re the neighbours… Sara is the one who slapped Jeff in the face after our first show… Layla is her vet friend” Stone added some info to the scenario. “Why do you always have to mention that episode?” Ament whined, rolling his eyes. “Matt did the other time, I’m innocent” Gossard raised his hands laughing at his bandmate’s face. “Yeeeeah! I do remember now! Sorry sweetie, I blame the shots of tequila I did with Kim before leaving, I’d never forget such a glorious slap” the singer took Layla’s hand again and the guys almost simultaneously facepalmed. “Not her! Her friend did!” Elias pointed out. “Oh! Sorry, well, you know, tequila and everything... what I said before... But where the fuck is Kim? How long do you take to find a fuckin’ parking place in this fuckin’ neighborhood...” Chris kept ranting as he made his way to the window and left the girl dumbfounded in the middle of the room, as the other three guys were doubled over with laughter.

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

“So…” Ed cleared his throat, hands shoved inside the pockets of the jacket “Want to talk about it?” Sara, still feeling wobbly on her feet, shot him an icy glare and grunted: “Talk about what?” “About what happened back there… I-I’ve never seen anyone before having such a strong reaction to-” “There’s a first time for everything, I suppose” she sniffled, careful to avoid his inquisitive glance. “Yeah, but you surely can agree with me that this whole ordeal is a bit too much; I mean, don’t misunderstand me, I don’t wanna sound patronizing but-” he let out a long sigh “You know you can talk to me, right?” “We’ve met two months ago, I don’t see how you could be the right person for all this hypothetical venting I’m supposed to do” the girl retorted, picking up the pace like she wanted to lose him. “And that’s where you’re wrong, because you and me – we have the same trauma”  Sara turned around abruptly: “I don’t have any fuckin’ trauma! Don’t try to psychoanalyze me or project your own bullshit on me just because you’re fucked up and it makes you feel better, I won’t be your accompl-” she roared, but stopped when the guy took her by the wrist. “... I know what it means to lose a loved one” In response, the girl looked at him with wide eyes full of tears, then yanked herself free and started to run. “Hey! HEY! WAIT!” Eddie immediately followed her, cursing his big mouth “What the fuck’s wrong with me? Was it really necessary to push her like that?!” He saw her taking a couple of turns and ending in a small alley, where he almost bumped into her; she was leaning against the wall, with her hands supporting her and the knees a bit bent. Her breath was short and, at first, he thought it was because of that impromptu marathon she had just finished to run, but he quickly realized that something else was going on. “Hey…” he croaked, trying to speak as softly as he could “You okay?” “Just peachy” she managed to mutter, between a ragged breath and another “This is routine, nothing to wrap your pretty little brain around” “Routine?” “Look,” the girl finally looked at him, her face oddly pale “I just have a heart murmur – some congenital shit, okay? That’s fine, I just have to live with this… it’s no big deal, really” Eddie felt a wave of sympathy towards her, and hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder; she was still shaking and, when he touched her, she startled, though she quickly regained a bit of composure.  “Sara… that’s not a heart murmur – or, at least, it’s not just that” “And what the fuck is this supposed to mean, huh? Are you majoring in Medicine, Doc? Did you suddenly develop an interest in cardiovascular diseases? What the-” “You’re having a panic attack” Ed interrupted her, mildly squeezing her shoulder “And quite a serious one, I must add” “You mustn’t, chief” she hissed back, shaking his hand off and wobbling towards the main street “I’m heading back home, El is going to have a fit if I’m not in time for the party” “Since when are you having these crisis, Sara?” “I told ya, it’s congenital – I was born with this, it runs in the famil-”“I meant the panic attacks” “... That’s not what they are” she stubbornly quickened her pace, not wanting to hear him blabber around like the clever meddler he was. “I think you should see someone – talk to somebody, maybe they can also prescribe something that could help you… It’s unnatural living like that, you don’t have to do this to yourself” “I’m not going to see a shrink, case closed” the girl cut short “Now lemme go home and do me the favor of keeping your big mouth shut… oh, and also-” “I will arrive at the apartment 10 minutes later than you, so anybody won’t suspect we have spent the afternoon together, I get it” “... you’d better do that” she gave him a last icy glance and turned around, disappearing among the crowd. Eddie sighed: he hadn’t offered to accompany her back because he knew she would have refused but, seeing how much she was still shaking, he was already regretting his decision.

[entirebodyexercise]

Lessons Learned From Serial Racing

Racing often could be high-risk, but there are likewise bunches of possible incentives to this approach.

Most competitive runners who reside in the Washington D.C., area have a Michael Wardian story to inform. Wardian, a local of Alexandria, Va., is a repeat national champion at several ultra distances and also a self-admitted serial racer. While holding back a full time job as well as increasing a household, he is somehow able to show up at multiple races on the same day, run fast almost whenever out and sometimes win them all, furthering his famous standing as an immortal rival.

But is this method of regularly putting the body to the ultimate test on a regular if not everyday basis a smart idea? If Wardian, that holds a 2:17 personal ideal in the marathon, had picked a more cautious approach to training that concentrated on the tenets of periodization, would he have the ability to take his running to a brand-new level? Or, on the other hand, is there something about serial racing that functions for him? And can it help you?

What follows are the advantages of this extreme strategy to training and racing, together with a few points to check out on your own. We spoke with ZAP Fitness instructor Pete Rea, 13-time All-American and also two-time Olympic Tests qualifier Sarah Crouch, as well as Wardian himself concerning the positives of serial racing.

Serial racing can...

...teach you how to race.There's fact in the old proverb that we learn by doing. The more we race, the more lessons about contending that we can internalize. Exactly how can you know when to kick and also how you can kick on the day of your large race if you've never ever done it before? The same reasoning obtains other elements such as exactly what to put on and exactly what to consume or drink on the course. Serial racing could bring about a far better understanding of you as a jogger. "It offers professional athletes an opportunity to practice the early-morning race programs and sustaining technique that they will require later on in the period during a goal race," says Crouch, that now trains for Runners Link. "Each race provides a professional athlete an opportunity to experience the 'going-to-the-well' discomfort that is seldom touched throughout practice. As an athlete boosts, there is an awareness that racing doesn't obtain less complicated, it just gets much faster." Wardian admits the learning facet is among the reasons he's constantly around with his flats on. "I think exactly what I get out of competing so usually is experience which has many faucets in that I get aware of just what is needed to do my finest, and each time I race I discover something brand-new and also I could use that going onward," he says.

... revive your love of the sport.For those who do not contend a lot, races could be stressful affairs that strain the mind-- particularly marathoners who've been educating 16 weeks for that one wedding to receive Boston or establish a brand-new Public Relations. However races do not have to be by doing this, they can be enjoyable "I do believe a bunch of people question exactly how I can race so much psychologically as well as literally, and I assume that concerns my interest for it," states Wardian. "I definitely appreciate all the of it, obtaining my kit together, lacing up my Hokas, lining up for the restroom, seeing buddies, the noise of the gun going off and after that the race."

... done correctly, enhance your health and fitness in a short period of time. "Serial racing is an effective means of blowing off the proverbial rust swiftly as well as relocating toward high-level racing in a much shorter time period," states Coach Rea. Rea cautions that this period of intense racing ought to be timed effectively. He mentions that runners should initial establish a cardio base of training complied with by tempo-based, strength-building work prior to they go on to racing continuously. Then, Rea suggests that a runner can finish approximately 4 to 5 races in a 6- to 8-week span, yet they have to be cautious of the injury threat involved. It's imperative that they pay as much focus to recovery after the race in order to the races themselves. "If a professional athlete is certain to recover comfortably-- with quite simple aerobic operating as well as little to no difficult workouts in between the workouts, save some light economic climate job-- fitness could and also will bump swiftly assuming appropriate background," he says.

... offer you a chance to experiment. For many joggers who compete infrequently, a race ends up coming to be a final, "all or absolutely nothing" test of types-- a major stressor. Racing more suggests there are a lot more chances to experiment with various things and getting to find out what works and also doesn't benefit you while decreasing the threat. The even more you race, the even more freedom you have to attempt out new footwear or gear. Think about utilizing the whole idea of serial racing as its very own experiment. "It is necessary to comprehend that what benefit one runner could not help another," warns Crouch. "Every jogger is different as well as each jogger has a special 'glass ceiling', a factor at which either mileage or intensity ends up being way too much and also the body breaks down, resulting in injury disease or exhaustion. Some joggers are literally and emotionally resilient adequate to manage a heavy racing schedule while others ought to limit their racing to merely a few races each period in order to remain healthy and balanced."

Do you have a time goal for your following fifty percent marathon? Competitor.com has training plans developed to obtain you to your objective. Inspect 'em out!

[musingsoflulu]

boston marathon recap

ahhhh, take me back to this past weekend, please?! i wanted to document everything so i could look back and smile, smile, smile remembering my first boston experience. 

after work on thursday, we drove up to my parents’ house and spent the night before leaving for charlotte the next day. my mom and my aunt laura came with us, which was so so so much fun. our flight left early friday afternoon and we landed in boston mid-afternoon.

our air bnb was THE CUTEST. an old victorian home located in jamaica plain (we got to stay in the turret!) our hosts were the absolute best- we had a private entrance, they stocked the fridge with essentials, and they also offered to leave me foam rollers, yoga mats, etc, etc. 

after settling into our air bnb, we set out into the city for dinner. we decided on a seafood restaurant in back bay, which was ~okay~ but not mind-blowing. while walking back to the T, we grabbed some pastries from whole foods and some wine from a shop we passed. mom giggled as she picked up a huge smirnoff ice and i totally thought she was kidding, but nope, she wanted it and i spent all weekend laughing about it. 

the next morning, i slept in and had coffee and my chocolate croissant in our cute little kitchen before heading out to bib pickup and the expo! 

it was so exciting seeing all of the celebration jackets from years past as we waited in line to get in. so many different colors and i thought about how many unforgettable experiences these people had at this marathon and how i was about to run it for the first time. how this would hopefully be my first of many boston marathons. how my kids will laugh at all of my colorful celebration jackets hanging in my closet years from now. 

???can you feel my excitement???

the highlight of the expo was stumbling upon scott jurek doing book signings for his new book, “north.” what’s more, clif was givng them out for free while their supplies lasted!!! so as i stood in line, i was pleasantly surprised when they just casually handed us a book for him to sign. when it was our turn to meet him, i mentioned that we actually lived off of the appalachian trail and he asked which part. when we told him, he said “omg i HATE that place! i was so close to quitting there!” and then he wrote a little funny statement about how our town sucks and finished it with a smiley face. it was the coolest and made me feel so badass for training in that area. 

around this time, logan felt so sick (?food poisoning from not so good seafood the night before?) and so we ran to tracksmith on newbury street to grab another swag bag and then grabbed a late lunch before heading back to the air bnb for the night. 

so much swag. 

while logan slept away his sickness, mom and aunt laura and i spent the night snuggled up on the couch rewatching “big little lies” and eating greek takeout. 

the next morning, i went out for a very short shakeout run in the nearby park while snow flurries fell. 

then we ran over to quincy market for lunch!

we explored downtown crossing and i had my first london fog (uhhh so good?!)

then we visited the finish line and there was SO MUCH EXCITEMENT in the air. it was so windy and cold and snow flurries were falling but i didn’t even care because i knew no matter what the weather brought, i’d be crossing that finish line the next day. 

we made dinner reservations at an italian place in the north end called “taranta” and properly carb loaded before the big day. 

i spent the last part of the night getting all of my stuff together. it was actually really stressful trying to figure out what exactly i needed to wear, when to shed it, making sure i had all my gels, extra socks, etc. 

anyone who watched the race knew the conditions SUCKED. i prepared well for the most part. i packed an old pair of running shoes i decided i would wear to the start line and wouldn’t mind leaving behind right before the race started. i also packed throwaway socks. we grabbed some used clothes at goodwill before we left for boston and i would wear these while i waited for my wave to start. i had eggs and toast prior to leaving the air bnb and packed a stroopwaffle to have while i waited at the athletes’ village. i packed 3 gu gels to have during the race- my favorites, chocolate sea salt and salted caramel. 

i debated back and forth about whether i should wear shorts or tights during the race and ultimately decided on my tracksmith twilight shorts. i’d run in these in heavy rain during training runs and they never felt like they weighed me down at all. i decided on the light, moisture wicking long sleeve shirt i wore at harpeth hills and my tracksmith run bra. 

sunday night, i had decided a sub 3:15 marathon was probably not going to happen given the weather conditions. i’d be happy if i got a sub 3:35 so i could come back next year. but then i woke up monday morning and read a post by tommy rivers puzey (one of flagstaff’s coconino cowboys). 

“All the best to those racing tomorrow. Don't squander this, or piss away this gift. Don't talk yourself out of accomplishing the goals you have just because of some wind and a little rain. Remember that there are countless individuals who would give anything to be in your place right now. Send it tomorrow morning. Give em hell. Respect the race, and the distance. Respect your competitors and the legacy of all those who have tread before you. The sacrifices. The servicemen and women. The survivors. The sweat and the tears and the blood.”

and i realized- in the end, it wouldn’t be the weather that stopped me from accomplishing my goals. it would be my excuses. so i wrote this on my hand and decided, yes, i was still going to aim for a 3:15. 

as i hopped off the T on monday morning, i was greeted by random people on the street high-fiving me, yelling “go runners! we love our runners!” and i had this overwhelming sensation and almost broke down into tears. this was happening. i couldn’t believe it. this race was already so special to me and i hadn’t even run it yet. 

i kissed everyone goodbye and hopped on the bus to hopkinton and immediately had to pee (why does this always happen?!). the bus ride to hopkinton was fairly quiet and our bus wasn’t full at all. i remember thinking “ugh, can we just wait on the bus until our wave starts?” it was so dry and warm and nobody wanted to go trudging out into the athletes’ village and stand in the mud. 

after power walking to the portapotties to empty my bladder, i made my way into a tent and stood in the mud huddled with other runners. a guy from scotland looked at me and said “i’d say it’s a treadmill day.” ha! i met two other runners that were around my age and they were in my wave, as well. it was one runner’s first boston as well and we talked about how we really knew how the pick the right year as the rain poured and the wind howled right outside the tent. 

i didn’t have to wait long before my wave was called and we started making our way to the start line. all along the way i was stressed about when exactly i was going to shed my throwaway clothes (not realizing they had donation bags right up to the start line). i left my old muddy purple Fates and dirty, wet socks outside a Hopkinton high school classroom. The windows were decorated with encouraging signs made by students- “run. walk. crawl. just don’t give up.” 

i finally made it to my corral, shed my pants and sweatshirt and decided to keep my rain poncho on for as long as i could during the race. before i knew it, 10:25 AM was here and i was smiling like an idiot as i crossed the start line of the boston marathon while rain smacked me in the face. 

i started off fast (oops)- the race started on a downhill. by mile 3, my damn bladder was full again (how?!) and i decided i would need to pee or else i’d probably not get enough water along the course. so i stopped for 30 seconds at mile 5 and peed as fast as I could. 

despite the weather, the streets were lined with spectators! people screaming from their homes in hopkinton and ashland. 

before i knew it, 8 miles had flown by and i thought “what?! no! where has the time gone?!”

the rain was constantly beating down in my face and i felt i wasn’t able to fully look around and enjoy a lot of the course, unfortunately. 

at mile 12.5, we passed the kissing wellesley girls. this was on my bucket list. even though the kissing mile is traditionally for the men running, i was determined i was going to get a kiss from a wellesley girl at my first boston marathon. i ran up to a group and pointed to my cheek and they were literally so confused. i am still laughing about it. finally, one girl kissed me on the cheek and i took off running again, yelling “THANK YOU!” 

the wellesley crowds were insane as we ran through the town and i remember a HUGE gust of wind blew and it became a torrential downpour and every runner around me started screaming “YES, BRING IT ON!” so much grit, so much determination. nothing was getting in our way from getting to boyston. 

around mile 16, my stomach started cramping. i’d had 2 gus and i thought if i didn’t go to the bathroom when i could, it might turn into something more dramatic. so i stopped again. and this time walked straight into a portapotty where someone had completely missed the toilet during their bathroom emergency. here’s the thing about runners- you put us in race mode and literally nothing bothers us. i was functioning off of pure adrenaline and didn’t even hesitate to squat instead of wait for another portapotty to open up hahaha. 

i was expecting to see my people around mile 16 of the course, but never did (turns out, they couldn’t find a way to make it out there and back to the finish line in time). and before i knew it, i was flying up and down the hills of newton. 

i was initially nervous about this part of the course, but once i hit it, i realized i was more than prepared for these hills. at mile 21, i kept thinking, “heartbreak hill” has got to be coming up and somebody else beside me voiced this too. then another runner was like “you’re ON heartbreak hill!” and two men were like “wait, this is heartbreak hill??? oh hell, we are three leg racing up this shit.” and they proceeded to step on the side of the course and tie their legs together. it was wild. and hilarious. 

i managed a decent time coming up heartbreak, although my legs and hips were feeling it and i could feel myself fading and slowing down. the last 5 miles of the course were brutal, with head winds becoming stronger. i couldn’t will my legs to move as fast as i wanted them to. it had been like running through a damn wind tunnel for the past 22 miles and it was only getting harder. 

despite my pace slowing, i was all smiles by the time i reached the landmark citgo sign and as i turned onto boylston street, the entire street was lined with crowds of people cheering as loud as they could over the sound of the rain. i crossed the finish line with a huge smile. i didn’t even know my exact time, but knew i was close to my previous richmond time. no idea if i had PR’ed or not (i ended up PR’ing- by 3 seconds lol). 

a volunteer put that coveted medal around my neck. i was wrapped up in a space blanket and set out to stand in the cold and rain while i waited for my family lol (literally worse than the marathon, honestly). when logan finally located me, we hurried home so i could sit in a boiling hot bath and defrost. 

we celebrated at a cute little restaurant in jamaica plain that evening (as recommended by @lauralovegoods) and i high-fived other runners who had come in to celebrate too. 

i know this was long-winded and if you read all of this- i love you. the amount of support i received from all of you wonderful humans throughout the entire process just blows me away. i received so many encouraging and exciting messages leading up to boston and so many congratulatory messages afterward. i also just want to give a major shout out to the incredible volunteers and spectators. these people make the boston marathon great. these people stood out in the pouring rain and cold so that others could achieve their dreams. they’re the real MVPs and their selflessness astounds me- something i’ll never be able to convey in words. 

i didn’t end up getting my 3:15, as planned. but that’s okay. i gave it my all and am so happy i was able to achieve such a solid time in such brutal race conditions. i know if the weather had been more ideal, i would have taken that 3:15 by the horns. 

i’ll be back next year, boston. ya won me over before it even started. 

[cianmars]

And AU Headcanons for Detective Red Snowing? PLEASSEEEEEEE

Ooooooooh yes! (literally who sees this please send me even more for this ship as I love them)

Often when they go out on dates everyone assumes they’re on a double date, they are always stressing that they’re all together.

Rogers is actually an amazing cook, a few times he’s cooked for his family if he got home before them, he claims he just follows recipes but he’s overjoyed that his spouses love it. 

They chose their wedding rings together and all have engagement rings from each other (David to Snow, Rogers to Ruby, Snow to Rogers, and Ruby to David). Some idiots  people try to make out that David likes Snow best and Rogers likes Ruby best etcetera, they have no insecurities about it at all, they know they love each other fully and completely. 

They try to go out on date nights at least once a month, but mostly they’re homebodies and have ‘dates’ at home when the kids are asleep.

They’re often caught in the kitchen dancing with each other along to the songs on the radio - they are amazing gestures of love and do them constantly (from flowers, mixtapes, chocolates, dancing, to big gestures like romantic nights away at hotels).

I accidentally started to do like five for each of them…. and for their kids (I have like a million more HC honestly)

Rogers:

They all met after Hook got back from Neverland where he had been for just over a century - having reached his lowest (giving Bae to Pan) he had tried to redeem himself when he met bandit Snow, faking Prince David, and unknowing werewolf Red. He tried to distance himself from everyone and do good deeds from afar so not to hurt anyone else but fate had a different idea and he bumped into them all the time, before long they all finally realised they were all in love and formed a poly Quad.

Under the curse (not done by Regina but by someone else) they were transported to Hyperion Heights which is right next to Storybrooke. Detective Roger’s first name is Kian, he often gets it shortened to either Kee (key) or Ian (mostly because everyone kept pronouncing it differently or asking him a million questions based off of it). Once the curse breaks he keeps that name instead of Killian’s, he finally forgive himself (after over a century of making up for his past deeds and continuing to do that since) and that he wasn’t the same man who had the name Killian Jones. He takes the last name of Charming but he often gets called just Rogers like he was under the curse. 

Because he took in Alice under the curse he’s the one who understands their now growing daughter the most, and her mental health issues, despite that he wished that it hadn’t taken him so long to do it, he also totally regrets not having bonded as much with Emma and tries to make up for it but it’s hard because his baby already has so many walls. 

He and David worked together as partner detectives under the curse, he  visited the diner owned by Ruby twice a week, and spoke to Mary Margaret who he saw in the bookstore every Tuesday and Thursday night at 8pm no matter what (they were subtle like that) (until Emma came to town and it all started to change and become uncursed. He had crushes on all of them but he assumed that he was just good friends with them or desperate for human connection. 

He still has phantom pains where his hand should be, under the curse he got his new hand attachment which works almost like real hand which he keeps when the curse breaks. He only uses his hook against villains.

Ruby:

Ruby is a very logical thinking and a natural mediator, she was both a knight and a diplomat in their kingdom (as well as having the official title of princess like her husbands has the title prince). She uses these skills during the curse at her diner which lies between Storybrooke and Hyperion Heights to both run the place and the financial side and to help people in the diner solving their problems. 

She would walk around with Alice on her back in werewolf form when she was a baby until the curse fell in the Enchanted forest and couldn’t sleep, she would often find runaway near her diner in the early hours when she was starting to open it, she always took her in and made sure she had enough to eat, she did the same when Emma suddenly started to hang around with Alice. She wanted to take them in but was told she wasn’t allowed to foster either of them because she was always at the diner (plus the curse was wanting to make her feel guilty). 

She is an amazing cook and baker, when the curse breaks their home smells like baking all the time. She shares cooking duties with her spouses as they often catch up on their days while cooking. She tries to teach her daughters how to bake, she encourages 

She is a really fast runner even in human form, she uses that to her advantage as both of her girls are such fast runners and they sometimes spook and run away when they’re scared.

Because of being a werewolf she runs hot and rarely ever gets ill, but when her spouses or children get ill she has about a million different home remedies to try and help them.

Snow:

She’s a teacher in a school in Storybrooke during the curse but she lives between the city and the town, close to Ruby’s diner, they’ve been friends for as long as they can remember (because of the curse). The diner is also how they all met during the curse. When the curse breaks she stays a teacher.

She always talked to Alice at the diner but had no idea she was homeless until Rogers took her in (Alice hadn’t wanted her to know), one day she brought her a backpack with some new clothes, hygiene stuff, snacks, and puzzles because she could tell Alice needed things like that. 

She spent hours in the bookstore, becoming friends with Belle as she did, she was constantly (unknowingly) recommending books to her spouses while they were cursed. When they buy a house after the curse breaks there are bookcases full of books all around the house. 

She’s rather type A, just like Kian, she’s hyper organised which comes in positive when they are going out somewhere. She’s also very competitive, particularly when it comes to board games (she sometimes lets Alice or Emma win). 

She became Emma’s teacher in Storybrooke when Emma joined, she made sure to give Emma all the extra help she needs, she bonded a lot with her and strongly supported David fostering Emma during the curse, but felt a little jealous that she didn’t. 

David:

He was partners with Rogers under the curse and had a crush on him during it but thought it was just because they work together in what can be a high pressure environment. He also had a crush on Ruby who he talked to and jokily flirted with at the diner at least once a day, and Snow who he met in the hospital. 

He was shot the week Emma came to town. In hospital he met Snow, Emma, and Alice. Snow was volunteering there and Alice was snooping around trying to figure out what was going on. Emma was part of Snow’s class volunteering and she started to talk to him. They see each other in the diner all of the time, when he realises that she ran away from her foster home and was living on the streets with Alice and a few others, he becomes an emergency foster career and fosters Emma (while Rogers takes in ‘Tilly’)

His apartment in the city is really modern and rather big (his cursed self was pretty well off (because he wasn’t the one who Zelena mainly cared about affecting) He felt bad when he realised even the things he took for granted Emma had never had. He was much happier when they bought a slightly more homely feeling house when the curse broke (plus it meant both he and Kian could try and convince their wives to get a dog - “One that isn’t Ruby” “You’re both in the doghouse”)

After Emma moves out of Snow’s class and into a new one they find that she isn’t being helped at all and is basically ignored, they have to choose between finding a school in the city which can help her better, or David homeschooling her, or a mixture of the two.

He’s pretty athletic and is an avid runner and can even beat Ruby, he competes every year in a few marathons and races, often for charity. He lets Emma and Alice ‘train’ with him, often before they have baths and go to bed… mostly to wear them out.

Alice:

Alice was conceived when Kian had a one night stand a little while before he got into a relationship with David, Snow, and Ruby (he slept around a bit in the hopes that he would stop feeling things for his true loves). The lady tracked him down a few weeks after Alice was born and said that she didn’t want Alice and she was now his problem to “deal with however he wants”, he was not about to abandon (or worse) his daughter. He fell in love at first sight, he prepared to leave because he assumed no one would want to raise someone else's baby, but his spouses would never do that. They also fell in love straight away, Alice knows her story, and that family isn't made of blood but of love. 

Alice was nearly 5 when the curse hit and had been very excited about her mommy going to have another baby, especially when she was told the secret (that it was going to be a girl). She actually helped choose Emma’s name, out of two options (with strong hinting from Snow that Emma would be an amazing name).In the Enchanted Forest she was taught chess by her papa. She started to play chess against him again when the curse started to break when Emma came to town 6 years later. She’s really good at it and it helps her to organise her thoughts and figure out the curse to go on to break it with Emma).She was meant to go through the wardrobe with pregnant Snow but the curse fell before her Hook could get her to the nursery.She told her parents that she was going to marry a girl when she was 4, she pointed out that she was right when she got her first girlfriend.

She had been living with a neglectful couple during the curse so she ran away when she was young, she’s good at living on the street and can parkour pretty well. Emma was in a similar situation and the two found themselves drawn to each other, when Emma ran away Alice looked after her, the two were constantly together. She became a informant for Detective Weaver, which is how she initially met Rogers. She was eventually looked after by Rogers. 

When the curse broke it was rather overwhelming to fully remember her pass as well as being aware of the six nearly seven years she missed out on having her family. She broke down yelling at all of them when she didn’t think Emma was around to hear. Zelena had only cast the curse as she saw how happy Snow was when she was pregnant with Emma , and wanted to be the ruler instead. So Alice shouted (out of being overwhelmed and a little jealous) that if Emma hadn't been thought of she would never had her family stolen from her. Emma heard and ran away, Alice was the one who found her and assured that she honestly didn’t mean it, no matter what she never shouted anything like that again.

When she was a teenager she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Her parents help her a lot with managing it, but she’s still getting used to it. She’s starting to notice a difference between how she feels when she’s on her medicine and when she’s off of them.

Emma:

She came to the city when she was 6 when she was fostered by Blue and George, they were emotionally and physically abusive towards her from the first night she was there, so it took her a short time to run away from there and onto the street. She became best friends with Alice and August along with a couple of other street kids.

She has autism and ADHD. She autism was the reason the people who were months away from adopting her decide that they didn’t want her - her parents pointed out that that’s not her fault and that the other people were wrong to give her back because she’s autistic. Snow (or Mary Margaret) was the first teacher to really invest in her and actually help her. 

She’s worn a hearing aid in her left ear since she was 4 and was hit by a foster mother, the same thing happened when she was in Storybrooke, only by George this time, when people had started to realise that she wasn’t living there and had run away. Tilly holy Rogers and David and they arrested George and made sure that she got checked out at the hospital. 

She’s nicknamed Koala as she’s always attached to one of her parents, particularly David, she’s a complete daddy’s girl despite claiming that she’s independent. She’s always assured that it’s okay to be a little clingy, after all her sister was the same.

She carries around her important things in a backpack she's rarely seen without, her baby blanket, a teddy, sketchbooks, pencils, her kiddie tablet, etcetera. She also always has headphones with her which help when she overstimulates.Things have to be deemed very important to go in her backpack.

[schraubd]

Ranking Winter Olympic Sports

I love the Olympics -- Summer and Winter. A few of my favorite activities include rooting for Winter Olympians from countries which have no snow, rooting for formerly colonized nations to defeat their colonial overlords, and being a sucker for any good personal drama story. Also, the some of the events are interesting. Here's the full ranking: Short Track Speed Skating Demolition derby on ice. This is a sport I'd totally watch off-season. I haven't gotten the chance to watch the mass start version yet, but it seems particularly ludicrously dangerous and therefore extra delightful. It makes me wish that Olympic sprinting didn't have lanes. A+ Snowboard Cross If you're the sort of person who thinks "NASCAR would be better if they had speed bumps and jumps" (also: hurtling downhill) -- this is for you. Another event with great demolition derby character. But what I really want is for downhill ice cross skating to make it to the Olympics. That's a sport where at the bottom everyone just looks grateful that they've survived the evening. A Long Track Speed Skating Like middle-distance running, but more interesting because it's on blades. Something about watching the skaters criss-cross lanes is deeply hypnotic. A- Slopestyle The best of the "trick" events, mostly because it most closely approximates a Tony Hawk game (or, to be technical, a Cool Boarders game). I hate to say it, as a die-hard skier, but the snowboard version is more interesting. B+ Skeleton "Who's ready for death sledding!" We can't call it that. Okay, we'll call it "skeleton." Seriously, if the Summer Olympics is about pitting the world's greatest athletes against each other in head-to-head competition, the Winter Olympics seems to be about finding ever-more creative ways to get Europeans to kill themselves. B+ Biathlon Nothing will ever top Robin Williams referring to this sport as "Norwegian Drive-by". But of all the long-distance sports -- Winter or Summer -- this one's the best. Not just because it involves gunfire, but because the shooting segments actually allow the race to get shaken up on a dime, adding interest and variety to what otherwise would (literally) be a marathon. B Luge I love the camera shots on Luge, which last for approximately a quarter of second on each turn as an insane German hurtles ball-first down an ice chute (another steal from Robin Williams). B Figure Skating (individual and pairs) The marquee event of the Winter Games. It's not that I dislike it, but it's virtually impossible for me to tell the difference between the tricks, so I'm left rooting for falls just to create some visual distance between the competitors. I do appreciate that the area the skaters sit in to wait for scores is officially called the "kiss and cry" area (seriously: I saw it on an official's nametag). B Ice Hockey The only sport I can watch regularly outside of the Olympics, which diminishes its Olympic appeal somewhat. Its ranking would shoot way up if the women's game was full-check (it looks like they're using every fiber of self-restraint to avoid laying each other out for sixty consecutive minutes). B Aerials/Big Air "Ski jumping? That's for pussies. Make them do a few tricks while they're in the air and get back to me." This is the only trick event where I think skiing does better than snowboarding. B Bobsled The ranking of Skeleton, Luge, and Bobsled depends heavily on what you prioritize. In terms of raw speed, Bobsled is fastest, then Luge, then Skeleton. But in terms of reckless disregard for one's personal safety, it goes Skeleton, then Luge, then Bobsled. You can obviously see what my preferences are. B- Curling The breakout hit of Sochi now feels a little overcooked in Pyeongchang. It's perfectly entertaining, and it's the only Olympic sport I could even vaguely conceive of competing in, but it takes a long time to complete and there are apparently 142 games scheduled over the course of the Olympic Games, which take up valuable TV time that could be used for speed skating. B- Alpine Skiing As a skier, I should like this, but once again I can't really tell what makes someone fast or slow so there's not a lot to watch here. Now mass start alpine skiing -- that I could get behind. C+ Halfpipe The marquee snowboard event (and generally-forgotten skiing event) is also the worst of the lot. To the naked eye, at least, it has less speed, less air, and less interesting tricks. C+ Moguls All Olympic sports are physically punishing, but moguls is the only one I can't actually watch without feeling my knees twitch in sympathetic pain. As my brother observed "you'll never see a 30-year old Moguls skier." C+ Ski Jump It says a lot about the reckless disregard for human safety that characterizes the Winter Olympics that you can take a sport where competitors jump the length of a football field from 35 stories in the air and I can be like "but it's kinda boring?"  C Nordic (Cross-Country) Skiing The same problem as distance running, or cycling. Not enough happens for too long. More than any other sport in the games though, competitors earn their "collapse in exhaustion at the finish line" moment. C- Ice Dancing "Let's start with figure skating, and then remove all of the most interesting parts of it and ensure that at least one competitor always stays firmly planted on the ground, where it's safe." Why? D via The Debate Link http://ift.tt/2ofeiQj

[moonbelt]

»cave me in

↳ college au

⇢ pairing: park jinyoung | reader

⇢ genre: fluff + slight angst 

⇢ word count: 4.658

⇢ description: you should’ve known that asking your best friend turned ex-boyfriend for a favor would never turn out the way you expected. 

author’s note: requested by anon! 

The moment you come to a stop outside the clandestine coffee shop that sits a few meters away from the Engineering Research Building, you know you have screwed up.  

There was no way around it. No matter how many times you mulled over the situation, this seemed to be the only plausible outcome with the least damage. Ultimately, it all depended on your ex-boyfriend giving you the time of day to even hear your proposition out and you understood that there was a high possibility he’d cast you back outside into the brittle December air without a second thought. You probably would have done the same thing to someone that broke 2 years of a relationship and many more of friendship in less than five minutes.  

You don’t know how to calm your nerves as you wait for him to finish his shift. God, it’s been weeks since you last saw him face-to-face. You’d seen him in passing here and there, after all, your friends used to be his friends and some of them still were but you’d done your part and refrained from group activities in the hopes that the atmosphere wouldn’t drastically descend into a pit of awkwardness. You guess you were just doing a favor for both you and him.  

Taking a deep breath, you strive to retain balance. The only reason why you were standing outside — in the too-cold-for-comfort weather, was because you had omitted an enormous part of your current relationship status to your mom. You hadn’t really thought it important to call your family and tell them that Jinyoung and you were no longer a thing. Of course, you didn’t mean to not inform them but then again you didn’t make it a priority either. The call had come weeks earlier when you were stuffing your head in textbooks, trying to find suitable contents for your thesis paper.  

Your family had always been big on giant get-togethers and Jinyoung being your close friend turned boyfriend automatically invited him to everything your parents hosted. Now it was Christmas—you’d spent the last two with Jinyoung, driving the six hours back home and hanging out with your loud family for two days. Usually, it didn’t bother you how tight-knit your extended family was but ever since your mom had told you that your Great-Grandmother was going to be around this year, you couldn’t find it within you to tell her that Jinyoung would not be coming along. She basically worshiped the guy, loved him through and through with that frail heart of hers. As if in a state of dissociation, you heard yourself say, “yeah, we’ll be there. No worries,” before you could even think twice about it.  

Afterward, you wanted to crawl up in a hole and die. The whole situation was ridiculous and you hated yourself for not letting your mother know the truth. Yes, your Great-Grandmother would be displeased but anything was better than having to stuff your tail between your legs and ask Jinyoung for help. You could almost picture the look of pure disinterest in his eyes when you asked for the favor. He’d never been good at hiding his emotions, something you’d found oddly endearing at first. His eyes always seemed to explain more things than his words ever could.  

It had been months since the last full coherent conversation you had with him. You had tried to envision the different ways the conversation could go. Ask him about school, how’s work—small talk essentially. The only problem was that Jinyoung hated small talk, he was more cutthroat with his approach. You, however, tried to avoid confrontations as much as possible, but after relentless talks with Jackson and Seo, two other people that were still in your friendship circle after your fallout, the concluded agreement had been ‘there’s nothing wrong with at least trying.’

Breathe, y/n, you thought to yourself as you sat down on one of the few benches loitered around. He was one of your best friends or had been for the longest time. You wondered if he still had that claim after four months of radio silence. Maybe you shouldn’t have cut him off completely, but you had done what you thought was best. There had been times when you were tempted to call him, talk to him—anything really—you had missed his advice, his quirks, his voice, his jokes. You had missed movie nights, waiting for him to finish work so you could go running. Christ, there was so much you missed about running with him.  

In the beginning, you didn’t particularly enjoy exercising but you loved the feeling that washed over you when you ran, it also didn’t hurt that it helped you release pent-up frustrations. You had moved for the second time that year and you hated it. High school was already horrible without having to make new friends and niches ever so often. Somewhere along the line, you’d given up on making friends that you believed will be with you for the better part of forever. All you wanted was to survive, get out, go to college and hopefully find people you connected with there.  

As always, everything started with little things. In class, when you forgot your stationery he’d offer his. You didn’t know him at the time but you weren’t one to turn down much-appreciated help. During break time when you sat to the side with your iPod on shuffle, you’ll catch his eyes for a second too long before you turned your gaze away. When your Physical Education instructor made captains choose teams, you consistently found yourself on his. Not that you complained since his team rarely, if ever, lost. He was always surrounded by the same group of people. You’ll find out later from your neighbor and classmate, Seo, that they grew up together and literally were a swipe away from being blood brothers.  

The good thing about running was that sometimes it felt like constraints had been lifted from your body and you felt weightless, airborne. Most times all you needed it for was to clear your mind, keep you grounded back on earth and pull you away from boring reality. You’d offered Seo a chance to run with you but she’d graciously turned it down. She was more into staying at home and watching cable than working out. Something you would have loved to do too, if not for the restless energy always bouncing inside you.  

That day you didn’t notice someone had been following you for a good fifteen minutes of your evening run until you stopped to catch your breath and change your playlist. You tug your earphones out and stretch your arms.

He came behind you, huffing and puffing like one of those toy trains you and your brothers had played with when you were younger. The first instinct to wash over you was to bolt the hell out of there, thinking he was a creep or worse—a stalker. It wasn’t until he rested his hands on his knees and raised his head up as he attempted to religiously catch his breath that you recognized him. Black hair matted to his forehead with sweat, clutching his sides in agony but even in his current state of disarray he still managed to pull the look off.  

You stopped your body from dashing forward. It would be rude, you thought. Even though you knew him and you were positive he knew you, you’d never actually exchanged a conversation with him outside academia. Your social life practically revolved and ended with Seo and the internet.

“Jesus Christ, you do this every day?”  

His face is red and his cheeks keep caving in like he just ran a marathon. The desire to laugh at his predicament is unwaveringly strong and although you try to the best of your ability to restrain yourself, the sounds come tumbling out of your mouth regardless. He looks up at you wide-eyed and mystified like you shot him with an arrow.

“Are you making fun of me right now?” He sputters as he collapses in a heap onto the grassy plane. You were in the second half of your usual route when you’d made the last minute decision to head to the park and catch the sunset before you rounded back and went home.  

Raising your arms arm up in surrender, you reel in your laughter. “No. I mean, maybe—is that blood?”  

Your eyes widen when you take in his full appearance. His knees scuffed up and bruised. The cuts don’t look so deep but the blood just keeps gushing. You close the distance between the two of you, squatting down to his level. “Did you trip? The path here is practically flat though.”

“Well if you must know, I’m proficient in the arts of tripping on air,” he laughs at his own joke, something you learn later on to be part of his charm. “But really it’s nothing. It’s my fault for following you. You training for cross country or something?”

You snort. “I wish. I do this for fun.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrows rise up and he looks perfectly astounded. To be honest, even though you ran at least two and a half miles during your runs, you did it all on your own pace. You were probably the slowest runner out there but that wasn’t the point of you running in the first place, so it didn’t bother you too much.

You don’t know exactly what but something within you wants you to push your fingers forward and run them through his hair. It looks divinely soft and for a moment you have to remind yourself that you don’t know him like that. That’s all it takes for you to pull yourself up from your position and stand at your full height. You jump a little to shake the feeling off.  

“Wow, aren’t you a ball of energy,” Jinyoung remarks, smiling a little, as he pushes himself off the grass. “In any case, I’m here to extend an offer; an olive branch of sorts.”

“Huh?”  

“There’s gonna be a party on Friday at Jackson’s. We—he would like it if you were there.”

“Why?” You furrow your eyebrows but don’t tell him that you don’t know a Jackson unless your puppy at home was taken into account and you were absolutely certain that your dog wasn’t hosting a party, or at least you hoped she wasn’t.  

He shrugs, dusting the dirt off his beige hoodie as he grins down at you. You admit to yourself that he is really good looking. In the sort of way that catches you off-guard at first and leaves you stunned the second. His gaze is steady and intense, exuding confidence, so much so that you find yourself taking a few steps back. The sound of your sneakers crunching light twigs fills the air.  

Licking his lips he says. “Why not? I don’t think anyone would mind having a really good… runner around all night.”

For a second you stare at him in bemusement and watch as a mortified look wipes across his face. It takes you by surprise how easy it is for you to actually find amusement in almost everything he’s done so far. You don’t remember the last time you laughed as hard as you did that day, the only reason you didn’t end up rolling on the grass was due to consideration of his feelings.  

“That sucked, didn’t it?” He winces, closing his eyes and kicking his head up to the sky.  

You fold your arms across your chest, snickering a little. “It did. But you get A+ for effort and execution.”

“I didn’t think I’ll get this far through, don’t judge.”

“It happens to the best of us,” you chuckle, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt to seem blasé.

He pops one eye open and the shit-eating grin that envelopes his face is enough for you to pat yourself on the back. He seems relieved that you’re not giving him shit. Your attention is instantly taken by the sun setting behind his frame, tinting the sky an eccentric orange and purple. You smile at how beautiful it looks, it was a good thing to change your route for the first time.  

“So, will I be graced with your sparkling personality on Friday or do I need to convince you more?” He breaks you out of your reverie.

You contemplate your answer. One party wouldn’t hurt, besides he was the first person since Seo, that had actually interacted with you since you’d transferred. The least you could do, you decided, was to go to a party. If you didn’t find it even mildly interesting all you had to do was leave and go watch Netflix documentaries at home.  

Nodding, you grin at him as you run your fingers through your hair in a pursuit to calm your nerves, but it’s tangled and muggy with sweat. Immediately, you wipe your hands off on the side of your athletic shorts trying not to cringe. Jinyoung stares at you with hilarity. You send him a wry smile as you check the time on your phone. Crap, in a few minutes your mother is going to be off her high-rocker thinking you got lost for the third time that week.  

“Guess I’ll see you around,” you say cutting the conversation slightly and hooking your phone back into its arm holder.  

Jinyoung’s lips tilt upward as he waves at you in solidarity. After a moment’s hesitation, he says. “Guess I’ll see you in class,” he reaches behind to the nape of his neck and scratches it lithely.  

You shake your head, giggling and disentangling your earphones before plugging them back in your ears. You starting the jog back the way you came when you angle your head over your shoulder.  

“Don’t die on your way back.”

“And leave you hanging on Friday? Never.” You snort at his response but don’t say anything in response, continuing on your track.  

Now that you think about it, you wonder what would’ve happened if he never chased you that night. What if you had run instead of staying? Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe you wouldn’t have so many memories that you had desperately but failed to forget. Shaking your head you bring yourself back to the present. There was no use reliving memories that you should have buried somewhere out of your reach.  

Turning your gaze back to the shop in front of you, you wonder if he’s even in there. It had been four months since you’d last stepped foot into Café Vagabond. You weren’t even sure he still worked the morning shift on Tuesday’s anymore. It’ll be a mess if he changed his working hours but you’ll take it as a sign. If he wasn’t here then God was telling you to stop! before you pushed yourself willingly into scalding water.  

You didn’t believe clean breakup’s existed. At least you’d never seen it happen. Even if both parties were amicable and free of malice, it did nothing to relieve the tension that sat like a heavy cloud in every discussion. It was like walking on shattered ice, you were sure it’ll melt over with time especially because you and Jinyoung had been good friends before you transpired to become something more, but you couldn’t wait for something you weren’t even sure would happen.  

Sighing, you fish your phone out of your coat pocket and check for any new messages. Hours ago you had asked for emergency reassurance from the one group of friends you were sure wouldn’t bullshit you and give you false Hope. Jackson had given you a thumbs up telling you that the worst outcome was Jinyoung being pissed at you for showing up at his workplace. Youngjae, however, didn’t feel the same way. He had explicitly told you that it was public property, therefore, you could do whatever the hell you wanted as long as it was within reason. Seo didn’t really care as long as you came back to the apartment in one piece.

You stand up and begin to pace, your nerves quickly returning just as fast as they had gone. Your thumbs hover over the keypad; ready to type something witty to the group chat about being here an hour early when your phone chimes with a new message.  

Jinyoung: You’ve been standing there for thirty minutes. I might be cold hearted but even I wouldn’t want you to freeze to death out there. [1:17 pm]

You stare at your phone like it was the most bizarre thing known to man. In your shock, you had thrown your phone high in the air and have to fumble a bit before you safely catch it in your fingers. You bite your lower lip as you try to calm your racing heart. Despite all the warnings going off in your head telling you to halt and abort the mission, you don’t stop your fingers from typing back a reply.

You: We need to talk.  [1:23 pm]

Jinyoung: Ah, doesn’t this give you a strange sense of deja vu? Or is it just me? [1:24 pm]

The temptation to throw your phone across the Atlantic Ocean is overwhelming. He wasn’t going to slow his tide against you. You had ignored all his calls for weeks and his texts for even longer. There was, figuratively, nothing left to talk about. You whipped your head up and stared directly through the glass windows of Café Vagabond. Now that you were sure he could see you, you became more self-conscious than before. From the corner of your eye, you see a group of high schoolers barreling on your path. Side-stepping, you avoid the calamity but even then you’re still in a world of chaos in your head.  

You: I know what you’re thinking. Its not that, I swear. [1:26 pm]

Jinyoung: You have no idea what im thinking y/n. [1:26 pm]

You: well whatever it is. I guarantee its not what I want to talk about. [1:28 pm]

Jinyoung: … [1:30 pm]

You could almost feel the unbalance in the air. He wasn’t going to agree to meet you, why would he? He probably wanted nothing to do with you. Since you’d withdrawn from collective activities that included him, you had no reason to talk to him. Pretty much, you were a blip on his radar. All he had to do was ignore you and continue on with his life. You were ashamed but you still hoped he wouldn’t completely disregard you.  

Jinyoung: I get off at 2. Do what you want. [1:34 pm]

You take a sigh of relief as you sink back onto your previously occupied bench. The conversation would be awkward, you know that, but at least he didn’t completely shut you down. Deep down you realize that your reasoning for being here isn’t as concrete as you would like. Deep down you realize that maybe you’re just self-indulgent and want a reason to see him. Four months ago you hadn’t been your best self, and no matter how many fictional books you’d read, you’d come to the realization that a significant other could not heal you. You weren’t where you wanted to be. All you were doing was dragging yourself and Jinyoung down. Maybe Jinyoung didn’t mind your attitude or your mental fatigue but you did. You needed time to find the best version of yourself that you wanted. You wish you had explained it all better to Jinyoung but uncharacteristically of you, you were afraid, you were terrified.  

You force yourself to stop thinking for the next few minutes till Jinyoung’s shift ended. You just want silence. Peace. You’re tired. Breaking up is tiring and it’s even more exhausting to try and place your friendship back in the equation. You bend your neck and stare at the skies. It looks like the first snow of the season is coming. You pull your beanie tighter around your head. With finals closing in next week, you wonder if this is a good time to approach Jinyoung. Clenching your fist on your lap, you strengthen your purpose. If not now then when?  

Time goes faster than you expect. Especially because you’re too busy staring idly at the clouds overhead, squinting your eyes at the wispy horizon, trying to plan your next course of action. How do you even start the conversation? There’s absolutely no proper way to bring it up and before you find a concrete solution, something—someone—stands in front of you; blocking the sun from shining on your face. Your body whips up to attention and you’re looking directly into one of the brownest eyes you’ve ever seen.  

You clear your throat to buy time. Fuck, you didn’t think he’d still have such an effect on you. You’d thought, albeit naively, that because of time you wouldn’t feel the same as you always did. Like there were magnets within the two of you that just had to attract. It’s almost as if time never passed, you are here and so is he. You push yourself up from the bench and take a deep breath.

He looks the same and yet not. His hair is still black and wavy across his forehead but he has grown it out, his frame is still tall, graceful, and lithe. He still has that heart-stirring look in his gaze but among that he seems more aloof and detached. You lick your lips anxiously.

“We need to talk,” you repeat. Words and their meaning dying in your throat.  

He raises an eyebrow incredulously. “About?”

There’s a tiny pause. Jinyoung hates small talk but that seems to be the only thing your brain is willing to do. “How’s school?” You say as you die a thousand deaths.  

“Is that really what you want to talk about?” Jinyoung smiles jeeringly at you.  

No. It’s not. You intertwine your fingers together, begging yourself to say what you need to and go.  

“It’s nothing serious, honestly. I just…” your voice trails off and you have to remind yourself that Jinyoung is one step away from walking off. “So like, I know we broke up and everything but uh, funny story, I haven’t told my family yet and they just assumed you’d be coming home with me for Christmas and I really don’t know how to tell them and I know this is really really selfish on my part but I can’t bear to break my great grandma’s heart like that, she’ll probably have a heart attack, you know how she is and—”

“Ok.”

“Wait, what?” your eyes bulge out of their sockets. This isn’t… this is not what you are expecting. You are expecting resistance. The wrath of a hundred storms, a simple no, sarcastic silence as he waits for the punchline. But an ‘ok’? You’d never thought of an outcome that came out like this.  

Jinyoung sighs as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. You see now that he’s still wearing his black employee shirt and a pair of Adidas track pants. He looks, for the most part, disheveled. He cocks his head to the side. “I’m going home for Christmas anyways. Doesn’t help that your mother called me a few days ago to ask if you and I were still coming over because you’ve been ignoring her calls.”

The wrench in your gut twists deeper. “I’m so sorry. If you feel uncomfortable doing this because it might be awkward as hell, I can tell my parents that we’re not together anymore.”

“It’s only awkward if you make it that way [Y/N],” he scoffs, resting his hands on his waist. “Besides, it’s just two days and then you can do the honors of breaking your parent’s hearts.” Jinyoung states simply, like maybe he’s discussing how cold the weather is.

Standing taller, you want to give the illusion that you have it all under control. You’re not freaking out because Jinyoung had covered your unintended lie. You’re not over the fucking moon because even though you came here assuming he won’t give you the light of day, he’s actually giving you more than you bargained for.  

“You’d seriously do that? For me?” You can’t help but ask, still in disbelief.  

One moment there’s a smile on his face but it’s gone so fast that you think it to be a figment of your imagination. “I don’t know. I’m surprising myself actually, you caught me in a good mood.”  

That’s all the reassurance you need. You hope he stays in a good mood for the rest of the week. Maybe you’re still walking on shattered ice but at least now it was somewhat melted. You feel so delighted that you jump a little on the spot. Your heart has calmed down a little now that you’ve gotten the words out.  

“Thank you, Thank you so much,” you say, smiling eagerly at him. “I’m very sorry for asking you to do this, Jinyoung.”

It takes a few moments before he answers you and for the first time since you’d seen him that day a smile eases its way onto his face and he doesn’t feel the need to hide it.  

“I don’t know if you remember [Y/N], but you’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.”  

The words leave you stunned as the threat of crying becomes a real possibility. Everything you had expected is not happening. He still has such a clasp around you, dragging you through the clouds like it was nothing. Carving a part of your entire being just for him. Somehow you know those words mean something so much deeper than pretending in front of your family for a few hours.

His eyes, as always, hold more weight than you could ever lift. However, this time you want to pour everything you have into lifting it off the ground.

a/n; it would be super cool if people gave me feedback on this! i hope you liked it! thanks for reading x

⇢ masterlist

©️ 2017 kai, moonbelt [aka high-on-food]

[carmeladorde]

You'll Never Know if You Don't Try

It was one humid early morning in year 2016. Exactly the birthday of my sister, I was standing nervously in the start pen of the last group of participants for Standard Chartered Marathon Singapore. I don’t have any idea what I really signed-up to. I don’t know what’s ahead of me after the start line. I’m afraid of the idea that something might happen to me along the course. It was my first full marathon. I only practiced running by using Nike Running Club application and I wasn’t fully committed to it. I did not do any research about doing a marathon, how it goes and to what extent it is seriously taken by people who already did it. But hey, we always have a first time in everything we do, right? 

*****

The last thing I keep on telling myself is that I just have to go out there, try the race and see if I could really do it. If I face any difficulties during the race and I feel like I could no longer finish it, then I don’t have any other choice but to drop out from the course. If it happens the other way around, then I would really be grateful that I made it through.

*****

One fellow runner and friend was assigned to a different start pen because she is faster than me. So, during my first marathon, I was all by myself. I’m uncomfortable in the crowd and I was so uneasy because I heard other runners confidently talking about their race timings. I just prepared myself to zone out and just kept on looking at my watch with all these mixed emotions. 

*****

I was still ok within 10-15km and I did carry on. From one hydration point to one aid station to another. When I reached almost 23km, I was already tired. My mind and body was about to shut down. I was not ok. I was swearing at the back of my mind and I was thinking that I still have the remaining half of the race to tackle on. I still continued to run and walk up until it was almost 30km. My whole body was really in pain and my muscles were twitching everywhere. Since we were on the last group who were released past 6:30am, I was already expecting the humidity to rise up until noon time. Around 35km, we were in Nicoll Highway and there were few shaded portions of the road. I was talking to myself that this was already dreadful. I saw the long road ahead of us and the heat was absorbing every drop of liquid in my body. All the kinesiology tape that I put around my shoulders and knees were already reacting badly with my skin. I still kept on going and the scene in front of me was so monotonous. Almost all of the participants were walking under the heat of the sun. Some stopped and sat on the pavements, others were reaching out to some ice cubes to cool themselves, some were resting under the trees and all of us were scattered everywhere. It was past 12noon.

*****

I looked ahead and still kept on walking and running. A few meters away, there was this distance marker, I saw in bold fonts that says – 38km. I talked to myself again that I still have remaining 4km to make it to the finish line. Somewhere along the way, there was this one huge area of water mist where you can cool yourself and I was really on the verge of sprinting to it just to savour the cold water but I couldn’t. I didn’t even heard that my friend was calling me. I checked my phone and saw that I had about 10 missed calls from her. I was so light-headed and I felt like I was sick already. I returned her call and when she asked me where am I, my tears just went down. I was totally crying while I was walking past that 38km mark and told her that I was in pain. She just kept on saying that I need to push through and finish it. She reminded me of the cut-off time of the race and encouraged me to at least make it within the required time. I took one deep breath and slowly made it to 40km.

*****

Few of the participants along the way retreated and called for assistance. I was also tempted to do that because of exhaustion and dehydration. I was afraid I couldn’t make it and I realised that for the last 2km, I should press myself harder or worst, I couldn’t hold onto any medal or finisher shirt that I paid for. All my sacrifices and effort were all for nothing because of wimp person in me. Even if I have to walk for the last few kilometres, I will do it. I will never quit and I won’t be defeated by the distance ahead of me.

*****

I was about to enter the finishing chute at about 250m and a Japanese guy was shouting at us that we only have 6 more minutes to make it to the finish line. I don’t know what happened or is it just the quick response – the adrenaline rush that I still have that last ounce of energy to sprint up to the finish line. I couldn’t believe it. I made it. To the finish line. It was a birthday run for my sister too. 

*****

I passed thru the medal, finisher shirt collection and claimed other freebies. It was around 1pm and my body was shaking due to over fatigue. I still have to walk past the greeters’ area to find my friend. I was so ashamed to let her wait for me for another 3 hours after she finished and left her hungry. But I was so thankful that she tried checking on me without being aware of her numerous calls and still waited for me to finish the race. I literally walked like a penguin, like everyone else during that afternoon. We slowly walked towards the train station to head home and take rest. For about a week, my body was sore, particularly both of my quads and hips.

*****

It was unreal. I stared at my medal for a moment. I stared at my finisher shirt for a moment. Indeed, I conquered that distance for the first time in my life. I did not have that fantastic finish time and I’m not shy to share it. Every one of us started from somewhere anyway. It revealed something I’m not aware of myself before and it lead me understanding the sport further. There was this axiom of a “runner’s high” and maybe it happened to me somewhere along the journey. Can I call myself a marathoner? Hmmm… I’d better be called just a runner. I’d settle for that term because basically, I get to love running. Let’s be true to ourselves out here, for once or for how many times did we celebrate things like finishing a marathon? Given, of course, we all have this bragging rights. Medals were hardly earned, we know that. I’ve been there, I shared long posts and photos on social media right after the event. I let myself relish in everything that was worth of finishing that race. As I become older, I learned things from runners alike and from life. There are times when you just want to keep things to yourself or just share to a few. You want to have a piece of that glory with only your family or close-knit friends. Other times, you just blow it away to everyone else like you wanted to. At the end of the day, it will still be our choice. Honestly, it took a while for me to decide an e-journal of my own. I just thought recently, that I wouldn’t want to wait anymore for the right time to share it with you all. I had this inspiration from the online community to share responsibly. Like I always say, I’m constantly inspired by people who get to accomplish things they love while being busy every single day. I will always say thank you to people who supports me in any way and whom I unknowingly motivated to start a new goal in life.

*****

My first marathon was not the last. This was the time I started to appreciate the longer distance. I started to find joy despite the pains and teething troubles. Signing up for races kept me moving and sane and somewhat balanced with my habits. Who would have known that it would bring me to overseas races which I never imagined to participate in. Am I too late to discover this sport? I think no. There’s no such thing as being too early or too late. It doesn’t have to be about a person’s age. Here I am, who finished her first marathon at 7:01:34 hours. My marathon story continues…  

*****

C. D

[werenzki]

Andre Burakovsky #1.4

PART ONE // PART TWO // PART THREE

Anonymous said: holy crap the andre series is amazing!!!! pls pls PLS write more theyre so cute!!!!

Anonymous said: omfg the new andre one was so good i forgot about your writing tbh until it popped up on my dash and i saw the word count and i was so excited!!!! i finished it in like 2 secs i couldnt believe it was already over haha! if you dont mind, woudl you write another part? (or 5 or 10 more? lol)

Anonymous said: can you do more burky? like either a continuation of what youve already written or something new if youre bored w that storyline? i dont have any specific ideas though so idk if this really counts as a request lol

Anonymous said: this isn’t a request, i just wanted to say that i loved your writing, especially the andre ones :) they’re so so adorable and he’s such a cute boyfriend/fiance! i’m looking forward to 1.4 :)

A/N: i’ve never gotten so much response from a imagine before wow thanks guys :)))) but wow i thought the last part of this little series was long, then i wrote this, yikes, sorry???? (also sorry for any errors or if it dragged on, i got really into it oops)

Word Count: 4,179

Your heart was pounding so loudly you could feel it in your head. The sound was deafening. You shut your eyes and inhaled deeply, then you opened your eyes again and let your last burst of adrenaline push you to keep going. Through your headphones Drake played, but honestly you could barely here it over your rapid heartbeat. 

As you rounded the corner you saw your house in the distance. Which caused you to only push yourself harder, wishing to get this stupid run over with. You had a full day planned, and the sun was only just rising on the horizon behind your house. Upon arriving at your front lawn, you stopped sprinting and bent over so your hands were on your knees. Then you fell onto your back swiftly and laid there as your heart continued to act like a jackhammer. 

Truthfully, you used to work out occasionally before, but after the proposal you realized just how much you needed to get your butt into shape. So early runs and late night gym sessions where the only things that fit into your schedule. Like today, most of your days were busy - from dusk till dawn. Setting up a wedding wasn't easy by any means.

Finally finding the energy, you let out a deep breath and got yourself off the front lawn. With the moisture adding to your sweat, your shirt was wet and reminded you that these warm summer days were seriously coming to an end. September ended today, which only meant it was another month away till your wedding day. 

"Kino," you hushed the black lab puppy. The little thing was predictable, and was jumping up at you the moment you unlocked the door. 

Some days you questioned why you let Andre convince you to get the new puppy. But other days, like today as you sat on the couch with a bottle of water and him nibbling on your fingers, you couldn't imagine not having Kino around. He was just a bundle of joy and you loved the little guy. Maybe not when he peed inside or anything like that, but he was learning.

As you went to refill your water, you opened up the back patio door, Kino got so wound up he ran right into the screen door. You laughed and then pushed back the screen so he could run into the backyard. Immediately he went to the bathroom, proving your point of just how much the little guy was learning.

"Kino!" You called for the pup, who quickly perked up his head from where he was digging - in your garden - and ran towards you. He got into the house and you shut the door behind him, then filling up his food and water dish before you went upstairs. 

Andre was still fast asleep, and you knew practice today wasn't going to be an easy one because the new season started up next week and the coaches weren't messing around. First game back for the defending cup champs was going to be a big one, like all the rest of their games too. So after a quick shower, you got changed into a pair of blue ankle jeans - which you rolled up at the bottoms - and a white off the shoulder top with some cute flower stitching. 

As you were putting in a pair of earrings and slipping back on your engagement ring you hear rustling from the bedroom. Then Kino was yipping and a low chuckle came from Andre. A flutter of butterflies came to your stomach as you leaned against the en suite bathroom door and watched as Andre wrestled with the rambunctious puppy. In the back of your mind - maybe a little closer than the very back - an image of Andre with your kids in the early morning came to you. 

"Good morning," Andre smiled at you as he caught sight of where you stood across the room. You smiled back at him and walked towards where he laid. 

"Morning," you muttered before pressing your lips to his. Andre had let the kiss become a lazy but passionate one, looping a finger into your jeans and bringing you closer to him till you were basically laying on top of him. You giggled and kissed him again, and then again. Then Kino was getting between the two of you. 

"Kino," Andre said while pushing the dog back, only he was right back in Andre's face in an instant. 

You chuckled and shook your head, "you've got practice in two hours, I'm going downstairs to make some breakfast," you stated while making your way towards the bedroom door. 

"Will you make pancakes?" Andre asked while throwing his legs off the side of the bed. As you turned around, Kino was jumping off the bed and running towards you, then out and down the stairs again. 

"Yes, and eggs or else your nutritionist will murder me," you said. 

"Works for me," Andre shrugged before walking into the bathroom. You walked downstairs, finding Kino playing with one of his toys, which you were just thankful it wasn't one of your shoes. Then you got working on breakfast. 

Most days out of the week you didn't get to just sit at the dining room table and enjoy breakfast with Andre. Which you were okay with, seeing as you were going to be spending the rest of your life with him. There were plenty of days to sit and enjoy breakfast and a coffee. Thankfully today just got the be one of them. As Andre poured your mugs of coffee, you dished out your guy's food and then set it on the table. Just as you took your seat, Andre brought over the coffee and sat in the seat beside you were his food was awaiting him. 

"How was your run?" He asked between a mouth full of food. 

"Good," you took a sip of coffee to wash away the food in your mouth. "I'm doing almost double as I started with a month ago now," you stated. 

"Nice," Andre nodded. "Soon enough you'll be running a marathon," 

You chuckled and stabbed your fork into another piece of pancake. "As if, I'm too busy for that," 

"Speaking of," Andre sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair. He patted his leg, motioning for you to rest your feet in his lap, but caused Kino to be by his side. Andre shooed him away and let his hand rest on your bare ankle. "What are you getting up to today?" 

"Wedding wise, or just in general?" You asked. 

"In general," he shrugged. 

You smiled and took another sip of coffee, relaxing in your chair as Andre rubbed circled on your ankle. "Well after you leave I'll be in my office for a while, going through my upcoming appointments and such, then my mothers coming over," 

"Oh," his eyes widened, clearly surprised. 

"Yeah, she suggested to come over and help with the invitations," 

"Alright," Andre nodded. 

"It should be good," you said, playing with the food on your plate, "fun, maybe?" You questioned it, but shrugged in response to your own question. 

"I'm sure it will end up being a good afternoon," Andre smiled. "Was there anything else we needed to go through before you made the invitations?" 

"Uh, no," you pondered a few things but as far as you knew everything was pretty set in stone. "Date, colours, we picked out the venue. You trust me with the design?" 

"Designing is literally your job, babe, of course I trust you," Andre chuckled and as he made movement settling his fork and knife on the empty plate, you placed your feet back on the ground and held your mug to your lips. 

"Good," you smiled over the rim of the mug and took a sip. 

"I've gotta get going to the rink, keep me updated on wedding stuff," Andre said while standing from his chair and bringing his dishes to the sink. He finished his coffee and then walked back towards you. "I'll be back before dinner," he stated. 

You nodded in response and smiled at him, leaning your head back in your seat to look up at him. Andre mirrored your smile and then leaned down to peck your lips. You said your goodbyes and then you watched as Kino followed after Andre, barking as the front door shut and he walked him through the living room windows. Finally you called for the pup, setting your own dishes in the sink and filled up your coffee, before grabbing one of Kino's toys and making your way to your office.

You threw Kino's toy in the bed you had for him in the corner beside your desk and then took the seat in your chair. The sun was shining through the blinds, so you turned in your chair and pulled them up, revealing the beautiful day and lovely back yard. The engagement party was two months ago now, but the lights still hung above the yard and you loved it. 

Checking the clock on your desktop, you saw you had just under two hours till your mother was to show. But also, knowing your mom, that meant you had maybe an hour till she was to call and asked if she could come earlier - which meant she would show up earlier. But that gave you enough time to finalize some appointments and deliveries for your current projects. 

As expected, you got a call from your mother, then she was knocking on your front door moments later. Kino jumped up from his bed and ran towards the door, barking at the intruder like a true guard dog. You decided to play it safe and scooped up the puppy in your arms before unlocking the door and welcoming your mom. 

“I didn’t know you got a dog,” she said while stepping into your home. Kino was still barking at her, but you kept hushing him and trying to get him to calm down. 

“Yeah, about a month ago now,” you stated. 

Kino sniffed your mother as she got close, she smiled at the pup and then pet his head once before turning around and taking off her coat. Your parents were never really pet people. There were a few cats here and there, but they were mostly to keep you company. In fact, you didn’t get your first dog till little Kino. 

“I’ve just got to finish something up for work, then we can get going with the invitations,” you said to your mother as you set down Kino. He immediately jumped up so his littler paws hit her legs. “Kino!” You scowled at the puppy. 

“Interesting name,” your mother muttered. 

“Uh, yeah, Andre named him,” you said over your shoulder as she followed your down the hallway and into your office. “It suits him,” you exclaimed as the pup stubbled over his little paws and gathered him toy between his teeth. 

“He’s cute,” your mother smiled down at the pup who was holding the toy for her to grab and play with him. As if that would happen though. 

“Thanks?” You chuckled, unsure if you were supposed to take the compliment for your dog. 

“How’s business?” She asked as you bent at your waist and clicked a few things, then typing some more and keeping your eyes on the desktop to keep focused. 

“Good, really good,” you nodded, “I’m actually redoing a home just down the street, so that’s a bit easier. Also have a few bigger projects besides rooms or apartments so,” 

It was weird, or at least it felt that way for yourself. After everything your parents had said and done lately, it was hard to fall back into the relationship you had going. Not that that was amazing by any means. But it was nicer than this. You glanced away from the screen to see your mom still standing near the entry of your office, Kino had settled by her feet - realizing she wasn’t going to play. 

“That’s exciting,” you mother smiled. 

“Yeah, it’s going to be great,” 

“Well,” your mother sighed just as you closed your tabs and put your desktop on sleep mode. “I’m proud of you, Y/N,” she said in a soft tone. You felt taken back, but it was nice to hear. After all, they didn’t always keep tabs on your career. 

“We can sit in the dining room, work out a design and everything for the invitations, then get on that pesky list,” 

You offered your mother something to drink once entering the kitchen, only she declined while you filled up your mug. It took you nearly an entire mug of coffee to even think up of everyone from your side to invite. Then you were cutting off a few, like you great uncle Joe, and then you were quick to bring up Andre’s - you very well knew this was going to be the hard part. After many years in hockey, he had many teammates and friends and important coaches and you knew he wanted to included everyone. 

“Andre wants to include Kino in the ceremony, somehow,” you stated while scrolling through your laptop. 

“What? How?” Your mother questioned, just as confused as you were when you and Andre had this talk last week. You quickly put a pin on the topic though and he ran off into the backyard with his puppy. Well he was yours too, but he loved that dog like it was his son. 

“Like the ring bearer or whatever,” you shrugged. 

“No way,” she scoffed. “That puppy would swallow them whole right in front of everyone in the church aisle," 

You inhaled and looked at your mom across the dining room table. "Mom,” You began - dragging out the single word till she looked up at you from the wedding magazine she was looking at. 

“I know, I know,” she waved at you, “no church, you want an outdoors wedding, yeah, yeah,”

“I’ve had this day planned for years,” you stated, looking back down at the screen that was still a mess of a invite list. There were teammates, friends, coaches, family, family-friends, and it felt like the list went on and on. You were now wishing you had tackled this even a few days earlier. 

“I know,” you’re mother sighed again. Glancing up, you caught the sad look on her face. “Well actually I didn’t, but I figured. What girl doesn’t, right?” 

You were biting down on your lip to refrain from saying anything more. It could very quickly turn into an argument, that you weren’t ready to fall into right now. Instead you needed to focus on making sure Connor McDavid and Dylan Storme got an invitation, after Andre’s time on the Erie Otters with the two you knew he’d like them to come. Same with that coach too. Another coach, another address and email to gather. 

“I have to feed Kino real quick, can you just write this address down on the list?” You asked your mother. She nodded while you rose from your seat. 

It was a good system you had going so far. You figured out who got the cut on the list of guests, then you contacted them to get their address and email. That way the printers who were in charge of making your invitations knew where to sent both the physical and digital copy. But as the time passed, you knew little Kino would be needing something to eat and maybe even a treat for being so good while you worked. 

“There you go, baby,” you cooed to the pup as he pushed past you leg and started eating the food. You got up, after petting him, and reached for the drawer in the kitchen that contained Kino’s things. Inside you found his favourite treats, causing him to leave behind his food dish and jump up. “Down,” you ordered. 

Kino took a moment, getting a little shove from you and another order barked at him before he got down. “Sit,” you ordered. It was still new, training him and all, but you tried your hardest. Finally after a few tries you simply just got tired and gave Kino the treat. 

As you walked back to the dining room table, you peered at your laptop screen - that your mother was intently looking at - and saw she was no longer on the tab you left her on. Instead she was on your Pintrest board, and not the wedding one either, the baby one. You swallowed and rested your hand on the back of the chair you had been sitting in. Realizing you were back, your mother looked away from the screen and back up to look you in the eyes. 

“You’re having a baby?” She questioned. You couldn���t even read her facial expressions right now.  

“Not now, no,” you answered, “but one day, yes, I’d love to,” 

Despite the tough upbringing and now currently relationship with your parents, you’ve always wanted to be a mom. Since before you could even remember you’ve had baby fever. But in no way were you rushing into parenthood. There was simply no shame in preparing yourself and also liking pictures on some website. 

“You’re not ready to be a mother,” she said. 

“What?” You scoffed. 

“You’re not even married yet, you can’t be a mom, Y/N,” 

“What are you-” you stopped yourself as you voice raised a bit. Inside you felt anger, upset over the fact your mother was overreacting so much. “I’m not trying to have a baby right now, mom, relax,” 

“Don’t tell me to relax,” she said back in a hard tone. 

“Well you freaking need to!” You threw you hands up into the air, “this is my wedding and my life, so just take a step back and quit judging me for a second, please,” 

Your mother didn’t respond. Instead her lips formed a thin line and you could see her mind was racing. She wanted to keep fighting. It seemed that was all she wanted to do since you gave her that call back in Sweden. She was realizing it finally - that you were no longer in her, or your fathers, control. 

“I,” you paused and closed your eyes while taking a deep breath, “I think I’m going to do the rest of these tomorrow, I need to start up dinner before Andre gets home,” 

“I should leave, your fathers flight lands in an hour anyways,” she exclaimed while getting up from her seat. She gathered up her things and you followed her to the front door. As she put on her jacket, she turned back around and gave you a smile. “I’m sorry,” she said. 

You nodded, “me too,” 

“I want you to know that your father and I are happy for you, and we want to be involved in this day as much as you’ll let us,” 

“I want that too,” 

“It just scares us, Y/N,” she sighed, “you’re our only child, and you’re just doing all this and growing up, and it scares us,” she stated. You could tell this was a conversation that she was planning to have over coffee while we chatted during the wedding planning, not while I basically kicked her out. But still, hearing her say this made you feel a lot better. 

“I know,” you nodded. “I’ll give you guys a call in a couple days, when I get a little less busy, plan something,” 

“Maybe a dinner, with Andre too,” she suggested with a smile. 

“Maybe,” you smiled. 

“Bye,” she said before opening the front door and walking out. Kino seemed to get the memo she was leaving a little too late, seeing as he was busy in the back yard, and ended up just barking out the front window as she got into her car. You let him bark while you walked over to the couch and sat down. You mind was racing, and your eyelids got heavier while Kino settled down. 

Then Kino was jumping up onto the couch and sitting next to you. You brought him closer, cuddling him while you got comfy on the couch and shut your eyes. Napping wasn’t the plan, but it seemed a lot better than sitting there and overthinking some more. Plus, you could use a nap. 

You woke up to the door opening and Kino jumping over you to race to see who it was. You already knew, it was Andre, and stayed where you were huddled up on the couch. You listened as he greeted the excited pup, then his footsteps went across the hardwood floor and into the kitchen, then down the hall, finally you peered up to see him looking over the back of the couch. 

“Afternoon nap?” He asked, smiling down at you. 

You nodded, “Kino napped too,” 

Andre chuckled and walked around the couch, then sitting down at the end of the couch, he lifted your feet and let them rest in his lap. He was looking down at his phone while gently rubbing your sock covered feet, Andre was just like that - always absentmindedly caring for you. It was one of the many reasons you loved him and were marrying him of course. 

“What’s for dinner?” He asked, glancing away from his phone to where you laid. 

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath and then let out a yawn. You closed your eyes and rested your arm over them. “I, uh, napped instead of getting dinner ready,” you admitted. 

“That’s fine,” Andre said. You opened your eyes and saw him smiling at you. “Gives us an excuse to go out for dinner,” 

You smiled back at him, “perfect,” you said. 

Andre got up off the couch, his movement causing Kino to start running around the living room with excitement, and then he put out both his hands for you. You smiled and grabbed onto them both, letting him hoist you up off the couch. Once on your feet, you leaned lazily into Andre - pressing your face against his chest. Kino began to bark then, running around at your feet. 

“Kino,” Andre bellowed, dropping his voice into a deep demand. You giggled as the puppy stopped barking and sat there. 

“He’s excited you’re home,” you stated as Andre put his arms around you. 

“We’ll put him in the backyard while we’re gone,” Andre said. 

Andre did just that while you made your way upstairs to freshen yourself up, putting your hair into a cute ponytail and fixing your makeup. Then you threw on a leather jacket and waited while Andre got dressed into a grey long sleeve and jeans. He looked damn good, causing you to stare at him while he drove down the streets of Washington. Andre smirked, clearing catching you looking his way. You weren’t being settle by any means. 

“Like what you see?” Andre teased. 

You smiled and tilted your head to the side. “Yup,” you answered. 

Andre laughed, turning the wheel with one hand while grabbing ahold of yours with his other. He lifted your head to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Well, if it weren’t for our safety, I’d be staring right back at you, baby,” he said. 

“Where are we going to eat?” You asked, looking out at the Washington night. The street lights were turning on as the sidewalks looked busy with people. 

“Your favourite, of course,” Andre shrugged. 

You chuckled, “you know, Andre, we can go to your favourite sometimes too,” 

“Well, your favourites aren’t horrible,” he smiled. 

“You’re too good to me,” you sighed as Andre parked the car outside of the small local Italian restaurant that you’ve loved for years now. You had found it one day during your junior high years, going on lunch dates with your best friends on the weekends was one of your favourites things to do back then. 

“It’s obviously you that’s too good to me, baby,” Andre smiled. You chuckled under your breath and shook your head at him. 

Leaning over the console of the car, you got closer to his face while the smile only grew on both your faces. You tilted your chin upwards and licked your lips while watching Andre - who was watching you, of course. His hand had found yours that rested on the console, his fingertips brushed over the top of your hand gently. He was sure to touch the diamond ring on your left hand.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” you said, “and spend the rest of my life with you, Andre Burakovsky,” 

“Me too, Future Mrs Y/N Burakovsky,” Andre said with his smile only getting bigger. 

An explosion of butterflies came over your entire body, somedays with this young man in front of you felt like it was all a dream. But as you leaned a few inches forward and brought your lips to his, you were proven that this was all reality. You really had found the man of your dreams, the one you were meant to spend forever with. 

[initforthelongrun2019]

The Time I Learnt That Toes Could Explode

My last blog post was all about a trail run and this one is going to be no different. Four and a half weeks have passed since the Vietnam Jungle Marathon and a couple of weeks ago I completed 103km at The Moon 100 in Koh Phangan; the first of four in the four trails series organised by Teelakow.

But first back to Vietnam and the recovery, or rather, the lack of recovery. I couldn’t quite believe how much I struggled after this trail run; I’ve never felt aches or pains like it. Somehow how I managed to run the day after, and continued to do so for the rest of the week, but my body wasn’t thanking me for it, and it was only on Thursday or Friday where I felt I could complete a run with ease.

The second week was much better and I managed a very good overall distance, due to running twice most days, and covering more than my daily average three or four times a day. The next week was just as good and I even managed to squeeze in a pilates class and a sports massage, in advance of the Koh Phangan trail. I opted for a pre-race massage, thinking this would be lighter and less painful than my previous experiences and I thought I was in luck, as the woman started working on my back ever so gently, but it turns out she was just lulling me in to a false sense of security and later continued to hurt me just as much as she did every single time. The massage was just before my flight, and I arrived in Koh Samui feeling sleepy and sore. I soon woke up as I arrived at the ferry and took in the cool air and fresh ocean breeze as we made our way to Koh Phangan. At this point I was contemplating not running, and staying in my lovely hotel, with a pool overlooking the ocean, and drinking my body weight in cocktails.

Obviously I didn’t end up doing this, and the following day I went for a very short 4km run before getting my head down and cracking on with work. I might have been on a paradise island but life went on as normal; it was a Friday, so a normal working day resumed, and I had lots to be getting on with. In between emails and calls, I dreamt about carb loading and went for what turned out to be a very disappointing falafel and hummus lunch. Falafel and hummus are two of my favourite things ever and they should never be disappointing. I had lunch in a bakery opposite the start and finish line, and watched as the organisers got everything together in advance of the briefing and flag off later that night. Before going to collect my race kit, I purchased some homemade vegan energy balls from the shop with the aim of taking them with me on the race. Turns out they only made it as far as the end of the road; they were far too delicious not to eat all in one go. But it’s ok, I was carb loading (I love that excuse).

Later that evening I went to the briefing, bumped in to the lovely Teelakow photographer who I’ve met at previous races, and then wondered what on earth I would do with the remaining six hours. At this point I realised I should have checked myself in for another night at the hotel so I could at least get some sleep; I initially thought at 6pm check out would be sufficient but I was already feeling so very sleepy. So I went off in the search for food and tried my luck at falafel and hummus again, which I’m pleased to say turned out much better than attempt number one. After this, I went to find out where I could get a massage and paid for a two hour massage so that I could sleep and pass the time. After this I walked around, ate peanuts (mainly as a result of boredom but again I will use the excuse of carb loading) and slowly began to lose the will to live, until I bumped in to Tom; a fellow runner who I follow on my IG. I’ve said before that I love the wonderfully small world of trail running and the community it brings with it and this evidenced it first hand; Tom recognised me from my posts on my InItForTheLongRun2019 IG account and knew I was doing this race, so he hung out with me until it was time for the 103km to set off and go!

The first part of the route was around a 10km flat run; something which would usually irritate me on a trail run, but this time I was happy; the longer we spent out of the jungle in the dark, the better. Setting off at midnight was new to me and the thought of five or six hours alone, in the jungle, in the dark, was not filling me with joy. I know I am slow when I set off and I was worried that I would get left behind; it doesn’t normally bother me on the trail and I like having the time to climb and descend at my own pace without people right up behind me, but this time I wanted to stay with the group so that I would have someone to follow.

I reached the first checkpoint in good time, although it wasn’t actually clear that it was a checkpoint and so I didn’t actually realise at the time. So when I started to reach the cut-off for check point one I started to worry, thinking that I was going to miss it and fail at the very first hurdle. However, this, on the other hand, meant that I was well happy when I arrived at check point two, as it meant that I covered more distance than I thought, and I was making very good time too.

However, on the way to checkpoint two I had to deal with the normal frustrations of everyone racing down ahead of me. Once again, I didn’t take my hiking poles, and once again, I regretted this as soon as I was faced with a very steep descent. Note to self: buy hiking poles and TAKE THEM WITH YOU. OTHERWISE YOU WILL BE SLOW. I lose SO much time going down, because I don’t have the confidence to run without poles. I did run a little and I fell, on a flat part of the trail. Which is why I don’t run when it’s super steep, because I have literally zero balance.

The rest of the checkpoints have all sort of blurred in to one; mainly because I have a terrible memory and I have left it so long to write about this, and partly because it wasn’t a particularly memorable race. Actually, I’m being kind, it was probably my least enjoyable race so far. The route was boring and the terrain wasn’t fun; the trails were extremely overgrown and a lot of time was spent running up and down very slippery clay paths. The fact that we set off at midnight meant that we spent the first five or six hours running in the dark, which quickly became very dull, and I also copped for another round of darkness on the second night. We began the race running next to the ocean; and although I could appreciate the sound, the smell and the cool breeze, it really would have been lovely to actually enjoy the view. There were very little viewpoints on the trail which was a real let down; when you climb up a massive hill you want to be rewarded with something nice at the top of it; that’s kind of the point!

There were a few positives, however. One very memorable part was the run through the national park which was stunning, and led us to one of the few viewpoints, which was spectacular. After the viewpoint I reached the top of the waterfall and dived right in; soaking up the cool water and enjoying how it eased my aches and pains. As always, I also met some wonderful people on the route and I am so thankful for the group of Thai runners who took me under their wing from CP 6. This was the CP after the toughest spike (which I actually really enjoyed), and where we could collect our drop bag; which meant a much-needed change of clothes and some treats; although my treats were vegan biscuits which turned out to be pretty disappointing. Anyway, I set off feeling refreshed and ready to go; despite the darkness which had enveloped us, but one of the guys stopped me and asked if I had a buddy, as he was worried about me running on my own. I told him I was fine, and I was actually feeling surprisingly confident after running for the first six hours on my own in the dark, but he insisted that he would catch up with me after he finished eating, which I didn’t doubt, especially as we were going downhill. As I reached the bottom of the next trail, a wave of tiredness came over me and I had to sit down and take some time to rest my eyes, and at one point I almost fell asleep. Somehow I managed to find the energy to get up and get going, and that’s when I heard Pleum and his friends behind me. After I reached the top they told me that they weren’t going to leave me, and by this point I was ever so grateful. It meant that it took much longer to complete the route; we were a big group and we stopped every time someone wanted to take a rest, but I actually enjoyed the companionship of running in such a strong friendship group, rather than competing for time or a good finishing place like I usually do.

However, despite the company, it was at this point where I was close to calling it a day. My feet were unbearably sore (even worse after the descent to CP 6 where I actually felt my little toe explode) and I was struggling to keep my eyes open. We reached a 7/11 en route and instead of going in to buy treats, I took full advantage of the five or ten minutes that everyone else was in the shop and rested my eyes. Eventually we made it to CP 7; by this point everyone was ready for a rest, and I had half an hour of blissful sleep, even if it was laying on the gravel floor in the middle of nowhere.

Thirty minutes later and our alarms woke us; I tried to persuade the group to let us have five or ten more minutes but one guy was insistent that we should leave right that second. I didn’t have time to get any water or reapply my gels and I barely had time to eat; other than a slice of bread which I grabbed as we left for the next CP, so I was feeling a little frustrated and wondered why we were in such a hurry. However, on reflection, it’s a really good job he rushed us the way he did; even though we had a lot of time to make it to the next CP, the next part of the trail was really horrible. We had to climb waterfalls in the dark which was actually pretty scary, and another reason why I was so thankful for the company of a group, especially when I fell backwards in to a pool of water, and was quickly pulled back on to my feet by the lovely Ekky. When we finished climbing up waterfalls we started to make our way back down and we all thought we were reaching the end of this section. In turns out we were very wrong and we ended up back in the waterfalls once more; making all of us doubt whether or not we were going the right way. This was another frustrating thing about this route; it was extremely repetitive and not very well sign posted; there were many times even during the day that I got lost and had to re-route myself, and I heard many others tell similar tales. This was probably the longest part of the race so far; it felt unsafe and it wasn’t enjoyable. By this time we had added numbers to our group and we were all really struggling, so it was a huge relief when we finally reached the next CP, which, I thought was the final one. But it turns out I was wrong, so you can online imagine how I felt when we I discovered that we actually had another 20+km to go, rather than the 12km beach run finale, which we almost didn’t make due to cut off times. The next part of the route was extremely boring, followed by extremely brutal; there was no in between. The final climb before the descent to the checkpoint was excruciatingly tough; I actually enjoyed it, but it’s something we could have done with much earlier in the race when we all had energy. At one point we had to push our entire bodies against the hill to make sure we could dig our hands and feet in to it, in order to be able to climb up it; there was nothing to hold on to, and the tree roots that were there were extremely lose and could’ve resulted in us tumbling back down the hill, which obviously none of us wanted.

We arrived at the final CP caked in mud, sweat, cuts and bruises. I am so relieved that we made this CP; despite wanting to drop out earlier in the race I would have been devastated to make it so far and not be able to complete. By this point my feet were in absolutely agony and I wasn’t sure how I was going to finish the final 12km run along the beach; I wanted to get treated by the nurse but the group were keen to get going and I wanted to finish with them. So I stuffed my blisters, bruises and peeling skin back in to my running shoes, and hobbled off along the beach. The first part was great; people cheering us and welcoming us back like we were coming back from war (it certainly looked like we’d been at war). However, this soon wore thin as the 12km felt long; much longer than a standard12km, especially as running on sand is painful at the best of times and, although we could see the finish line in the very far distance, it didn’t seem to be getting any closer. As with all of my trail runs, I started to question my sanity, I swore lots, I cried a little bit. My body wasn’t hurting; even my hip remained pain free for the entire route which was absolutely delightful; I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have hip pain, especially on such a long and brutal run. But my feet were unbearably sore and as soon as I crossed the finish line, I headed straight for the nurses station for some help with my blistered and torn skin. My feet were pretty banged up for days after; normally I can run (or at the very least hobble) the day after a race, but I could barely even walk. I cycled for three days and on the fourth day managed to get out for a run, but even now, one week later, they’re still very, very sore. Safe to say, my runners went straight in the bin and I’m now on the search for a pair which won’t torture me like those ones did for the entire 103km.

I set off on my journey back to Bangkok about four hours after finishing the race; not my most sensible decision but I had to get back for work the next day as I had an extremely busy week coming up. I was in pain for the entire journey and in the airport I was offered a wheelchair which I politely declined, so instead I was bundled in to the back of a buggy (which was a difficult task in itself because I could barely climb up in to the thing) and at one point I was nearly taken to first aid. But despite all of that, it was nice to see other runners, both on the ferry back to Samui and waiting in the airport to board their flights back home (also reassuring to know there were other mad people who thought it would be a good idea to travel back the same day). I spoke to lots of fellow runners; some who finished and some who did not, and was congratulated by many as I was wearing my finisher t-shirt. There were so many DNF’s on this route, and although I took almost the entire 36 hours to complete the race, I still placed quite highly due to the fact that 125 people did not complete; I was one of only 93 which managed to cross the finish line. Another ultra under my belt, with lots more still to go.

Distance covered so far: 2,870.36km Distance still to run: 4629.64km