#ill need a new notepad soon

[wheatnoodle]

there’s a dynamic shift when hopper moves in. there’s a father back in the picture.

jonathan does not have good experiences with fathers.

now, he likes hop, he really does. jim’s great to his mom, an incredible dad for el, and he helped save will. jonathan and hopper liking each other is not the issue.

the problem is that when hopper gets angry, he yells. and he likes to have a couple beers at night. and he calls jonathan “kid” like how he used to. so jonathan, who’s already a quiet person, is now next to silent. he speaks when spoken to, doesn’t leave his room and tiptoes on the hardwood floors.

it gets on jim’s nerves. he thought they were a good family. he thought they all got along just fine but now he’s moved in with them, and jonathan is acting like a ghost in his own home. he’s tried to talk to joyce, she tells him to “give him time”.

so hopper is sitting at the kitchen table one night after dinner, reading through the day’s reports. joyce is helping el with her math homework and will is sketching in a notepad next to her. jonathan’s washing up the dishes, scrubbing a glass with this one spot that just won’t. come. off.

and it slips. and glass is shattered on the kitchen floor. jonathan is on the ground in an instant to pick it up, slicing his palm on a shard.

“sh-shit, sorry, im sorry. i- i didn’t mean to, im sorry,” he’s apologizing before he can stop himself.

“honey!” joyce gasps and hurries over, squatting next to him. she places a hand on his shoulder and he looks up, eyes huge and glazed over. “honey, what happened?”

hopper crouches down. goes to grab jonathan’s injured hand. jonathan jolts up, backs up so fast he slams into the counter and hits the back of his head on the overhead cabinet doors.

“i promise i didn’t mean to, ill clean it, i’ll- i’ll fix it, i’m sorry.” jonathan’s shaking his head back and forth, cradling his hand to his chest with his eyes squeezed shut. his breathing is shaking his shoulders. “please, please, please, im so sorry.”

“hey, kid,” jonathan flinches at the name, “it’s okay. nothing to apologize for.”

jim nods once at joyce. she understands and manages to usher el and will into their rooms. she rejoins them soon after. jonathan is still shaking in the same place while hopper is trying to approach him.

hopper lifts a hand and runs it over his face. he doesn’t miss the way the teen’s face cringes up. like he’s waiting for something. like he’s waiting for…jim looks at his own hand and back to jonathan.

“jonathan.”

“i didn’t mean to break it. i swear.”

“i know. it was an accident. accident’s happen.” it’s the calmest joyce has ever heard jim speak. his voice is low, easy and soothing. he’s quiet. he’s warm. she’s watching from the doorway as he opens a new side to himself, just for her kid. just for what he needs.

“im sorry.”

“it’s okay. can i come closer?” jim asks gently, takes a small step forward. jonathan tenses and he stops. “okay. okay. can i see your hand? it looks like you cut yourself pretty good on there.”

he hesitates, but jonathan holds his bleeding hand out, palm up. his arm trembles. he’s eyeing jim wearily, ready to run.

“i just want to look. maybe clean it, if you’ll let me. i’m not going to hurt you,” he says the last part in a tone that sounds like a promise. jonathan stays silent, staring at his hand.

“hey, can you look at me?” jonathan looks up, meets his eyes with terror washed over his own. “i am not going to hurt you.”

“but- dad-“

“lonnie isn’t here. i’m not lonnie. i am not going to hurt you. i will, eyes on me, i will never. hurt you.” jim steps forward again, into jonathan’s space this time. he doesn’t flinch this time, stays where he is as hopper bends his knees a bit to be eye level with him.

“lonnie-“

“is not here,” he’s even quieter, letting the words be heard just for him. “you are safe with me. you hear me? you. are safe. with me.”

jonathan’s subconsciously matching his breathing to jim’s, his eyes never leaving the man’s gaze.

“good work. can you say it?”

“i…am safe. with you,” jonathan whispers, his shoulders slumping tiredly.

“nice job, bud. you are safe. im not angry with you. i will never hurt you. never. okay? you’re my boy,” hopper says it like it’s always been true. like even before he was with joyce, way back to making house visits when lonnie would get violent. and he would see jonathan, only this tiny little kid, and even then, that’s his boy. his oldest. his son.

jonathan visibly relaxes, moving forward and shocking both jim and joyce as he plants his forehead into jim’s shoulder. he doesn’t hug him, just stays there. hopper brings a hand to rest on the back of his head, stroking comfortingly through his hair.

“get something comfy on, we’ll watch a movie or something and relax. but first, let’s go clean up this hand.” and hopper walks with jonathan down the hall, past joyce, a hand on his lower back and jonathan still pressed to his side. joyce cant help that she has tears in her eyes, smiling brightly at her husband as he walks past, protecting her son. he smiles back, warm and full of love.

this is progress.

[donutwares]

Back from groceries...

Mom drove us to NSK. It's been ages since we went grocery shopping, being hit by a slew of illness and bad luck. We ate well and drank lattes. I bought a new toothbrush which proved very effective and Good Virtues rejuvenating bodywash, made in Malaysia, so relaxing.

Also got the Folks some Kombucha. Didn't get any snacks or goodies, just frozen tempura fish flakes for dinner tomorrow, Dad bought lots of fruits and Mom got a few vegetables, spuds and ginger. She also bought us all yogurt.

Still playing the same Mozart vinyl record. I need to stick a cake mixer in my life, or nothing will come together anytime soon, and my future will be half baked. At least the LPs are making their comeback. There's a dangerous line between obeying a sign from God and trying to take it down or vandalize it so the future will hopefully change. Someone should tell "Prince William".

Although today is already Monday, I haven't been working on my flute learning / composing. Will try to fit some in later using Finale NotePad.

[meowlware]

meeku and (some) friends from work

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #11: Too Sick

Masterlist

content: vampire whumper, sickfic / fever, begging, captivity, dehydration

kind of a shorter one, takes place about a year into jim’s captivity.

-

The human had fallen ill.

This was Kane’s first time seeing a sick person. Humans were not like vampires, their bodies weak and slow to heal. So weak that sometimes, they would spontaneously become incapacitated just from existing in the world. He’d heard that they usually recovered within a few days.

The human was curled up on his bed, shivering, a sheen of sweat covering his face. He had moved the trash can next to his bed, which was emitting an awful smell. He’d also taken a roll of toilet paper out of the bathroom; it now sat next to his head. When Kane entered, he weakly held up a page from the notepad.

“H-hey. Can you-” He burst into a fit of coughs, “-Hhh, can you get these kinda soon?”

Kane took the list and inspected it. Plastic bags. Tissues. Chicken noodle soup. And four items he didn’t recognize the names of.

“Are these medications?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm.” the human confirmed. “Fever, cough, congestion, nausea.” His voice sounded odd.

Ugh. Kane remembered when the human had cajoled him into getting him pain medication. It had made his blood taste sour and unappealing.

“We’ve discussed this. You know how I feel about medications.”

The human groaned weakly. “Come on man, just give me a fucking break.” he whined before breaking off into more coughing.

Kane sighed. “Pick one. I don’t even want to know what your blood would taste like with four of these things in you.”

The human touched the back of his hand to his forehead, then glanced at the trash can. After seeming to deliberate for a bit, he answered, “Um, nausea. The-” cough “-the last one.”

Kane nodded and shoved the paper in his pocket. He’d cross out the others before giving it to the human supply service. “Get up, I’m hungry.”

The human looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “Can you just do it here? I don’t feel good.”

Kane had gotten a lot better at feeding from a human over the past year, even without anyone to teach him how. He could make that work. “Fine, whatever.”

He pushed the human up into a sitting position and angled his head to expose his neck. The skin was strangely warmer than usual, and the human whimpered in pain as he bit down. The blood tasted... off. Kane hoped the human went back to normal soon.

When he finished his meal, the human was noticeably weaker than before, collapsing back onto the bed.

As Kane turned to leave, the human feebly called out, “Wait-” cough, cough.

“What?" he asked.

The human nodded towards an empty cup on the floor by the bed. “C’you gemme more water?” The words came out slightly slurred.

Kane scoffed, offended. “Are you regarding me as your servant, human?”

The human looked miserable. He tried to push himself up, presumably to go get it himself, but his arm wobbled before collapsing under his weight. He burst into another coughing fit and did not try to rise again.

It seemed he was truly unable to get out of bed. Humans needed water to survive, and it made up most of their blood. Kane frowned. It would be too much of a pain to get a new human if this one died on him.

He grabbed the cup and filled it up in the kitchen sink before setting it down next to the bed again.

“Th’ks.” the human mumbled, half-asleep.

-

When Kane returned the next night, the human looked even worse, despite all the supplies he’d requested having been delivered on a rush order yesterday. It looked like the human had opened everything except the can of soup. His water cup was empty again.

“Hmm. Thought you’d be fixed by now.” he remarked.

The human gasped, eyes widening in terror as he registered Kane’s presence. He was shaking.

Kane strolled over and prepared to feed. The human’s skin was hot to the touch as Kane tilted his head to the side, much more so than yesterday.

“N-no. Ka-ane, no.” the human choked out, his voice raspy. “I’m t-t-too sick. Can’t.” Cough, cough.

“You forget your place, human. You exist to provide me blood.” he reminded him.

The human grasped weakly at Kane’s sleeve. “Please.” he whispered.

Kane’s eyebrows shot up. The human had never begged before.

“P-please,” he continued, “I d-don’t wanna die. Please. N-no, no, please, not like th-this. I don’wanna die like this.” He was crying, now.

Kane imagined going out to buy store-bought blood. There was no way it would go unnoticed. Even if he sent someone else, there was no way Anton wouldn’t find out, and he would tell everyone. He’d been trying so hard to reform his image, there was no way he was going to throw it all in the trash because his human was a little dramatic.

“You’re not going to die. You’re just sick.”  Kane had heard that only older humans died of sickness. His was young.

The human sobbed, shaking his head frantically. “No! I-I’m gonna die, gonna die like M-mom and Dad, please, ple-” cough “-ease, p-please, I don’t wanna die here all alo-one!” he wailed.

Kane was growing frustrated. “I just told you, you’re not going to die. Hold. Still. We are not going back to the fucking struggling, I thought you were over this.” He forcefully held the human in place, bit down, and started feeding.

The human tried to scream, but there wasn’t enough force in his body, and it came out as a strangled cry. “S-s-stop, plea--”

A fit of coughs wracked the human’s body, each one sending his shoulders up and pushing Kane’s fangs further down into his flesh. The human’s crying turned hysterical, his breaths quick and shallow in his panic.

The human barely seemed to notice when Kane stopped. “I wa-anna go home, I wanna g-go home, I wann’go home,” he kept repeating to himself.

“Holy shit, you’re literally fine.” Kane rolled his eyes.

He refilled the cup with water, and the human reached for it in desperation when he came back. He gulped it down greedily as soon as Kane handed it to him.

“M-m-more.” the human held it back out shakily.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, ingrate.” Kane snapped, but brought the cup back full again.

-

oh hey it’s that thing kane remembered doing back in chapter 1

taglist:

@ceph-the-writing-spook

@cupcakes-and-pain

@deluxewhump

@extrabitterbrain

@harri-00

@inpainandsuffering

@kiratheperson

@lactose-intolerant-egg

@littlespacecastle

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@myhusbandsasemni

@mylifeisonthebookshelf

@nicolepascaline

@octopus-reactivated

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@quirkykayleetam

@ramadiiiisme

@thecyrulik

@thegreatwhodini

@whump-cravings

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpilicious

@whumpthisway

@whumpwillow

@whumpy-writings

@whumpyzombie

@wits-and-wrongs

[silver-ink-iron-words]

Loose lips sink ships gets better and better

You know what I want

Aww thank you ❤

Hope you like this next part

----

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Loose Lips Sink Ships, Part 6

Another wave of dizziness hit Artemis. As though they needed another reminder that they didn’t have much time.

They beelined for the door.

They’d almost made it when they felt a hand on their arm. They turned to see Macy’s frightened expression. Her face looked ghostly in the dim red lights.

“You should get to the safe-room,” Artemis said.

“So should you,” she replied.

“Bryn needs – ”

“Bryn has an entire med team there to protect them.” Her eyes were steely. “What, you think I’m not worried? My girlfriend’s down there too.”

Artemis might have laughed, in any other situation. “This is different, Mace. Connie is perfectly healthy, while Bryn was just reeled back from the brink of death.”

“If you go, I’m going too.”

“Don’t do this, dear. You can’t take a bullet.”

“So you better come to the safe-room and make sure I don’t have to.”

Artemis looked into her eyes, and saw no room for argument. Who had taught her to be so stubborn?

They took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. It did little to relieve their all-consuming stress. “Alright.”

Clearly relieved, Macy nodded and started moving across the lab to the little safe-room in the back. Artemis followed.

When they were nearly there, Artemis stumbled, only just catching themself on their desk.

“Boss?” Macy rushed to them.

“I’m fine,” Artemis grumbled, pushing themself back up. “I’m not down yet, so you can stop looking at me like I’m a nonagenarian.”

Macy shook her head. “I can’t believe you thought you could face the Vekalese in this state.”

Artemis cracked a small grin. “Never underestimate an academic’s ability to be the stupidest person in the room.”

They reached the safe-room, and Macy stepped inside. “I’m just glad you decided this time to – ”

Artemis closed the door in front of themself, and attached the lock that they’d grabbed from their desk while pretending to be ill.

“Galen!” Macy’s shouts were muffled by the thick metal. Artemis heard loud banging on the other side.

They took a pen and notepad off a nearby table, and wrote. They slipped the note under the door.

“That’s the lock’s combination. When someone you trust comes by, have them let you out.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Macy seethed.

She’ll have to get in line, the voice said.

Artemis let out a breath. “See you soon, Mace.”

They ambled towards the exit, fetching their handgun from their desk as they went. Macy’s screaming curses followed them all along the way.

----

Artemis’s symptoms had become significantly less pretend by the time they entered the medical wing.

The normally bustling halls were now hollow. The alarms wailed. The white walls looked bloody under the crimson lighting.

Yet another wave of nauseating dizziness hit, and Artemis paused as their vision momentarily blurred.

This is a new level of stupid, even for you, the voice said.

Never knew you cared about my safety, Artemis thought. Their vision cleared, and they picked up the pace again.

They were never really sure whether the voice was an actual thinking entity or not. It had occurred to them that, if it was indeed madness, then responding back might make things worse. But in moments like this, having even this thing to talk to was better than being alone with their own buzzing panic.

You’re going to die, the voice said. Okay, maybe not that much better. You’re going to get shot right through the brain, and the lights are going to go out before you even have a chance to heal.

With that grim notion in their head, Artemis pushed onwards.

It wasn’t like they didn’t know they were being stupid. They were well aware that the Vekalese were looking for them, and that they were just as likely to pass out in these hallways as they were to find Bryn. If any of their loved ones had tried something like this, they would have been furious.

But they also knew that if they had gone into that safe-room, and then later found out that something had happened to Bryn, they would never forgive themself.

They almost turned a corner, but halted when they heard voices. They pulled back into a small alcove.

“Status report,” a familiar voice said.

Artemis’s heart fell to their stomach.

“We’ve secured this floor,” a second person said. “As well as Floors 3 through 6. The staff are gathered on Floor 2, the patients are locked in their rooms.”

“Have the targets been acquired?”

“Not yet, Captain. We still need to – ”

Artemis missed the end of the sentence as the world blotted out around them.

When they came to, they were slumped against the wall, sweating and shaking. They heard the soldier’s footsteps retreating into the distance.

Why the hell was Ledger speaking to Vekalese soldiers?

She’d asked about targets. Artemis’s mind flashed to that night in her office . . . “You’re on that list, doctor.”

Why was Ledger working with the Vekalese? And if she was, why had she warned Artemis that they were in danger? Could she really be . . .

The dizziness crashed into them again.

They were in no state of mind right now to figure this out.

They had to find Bryn.

---

“Moonshine,” Bryn said. “What are you – ” Their eyes widened. “Artemis, what the hell happened?!”

Artemis followed Bryn’s eyes, and realized they were still wearing their bloody shirt from their earlier experiment. They let out a series of tiny, startled giggles.

“My research,” they said, stuffing the nervous laughter back down. They closed the door and moved further into Bryn’s room. “That doesn’t matter. Are you okay? Have you seen any soldiers?”

“No, nothing’s happened. Moonshine, what are you doing here?”

Artemis had expected to find Bryn surprised. Maybe a little concerned. They hadn’t expected the sheer terror on their partner’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Artemis approached the bed. “Darling, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Bryn just shook their head. “You’re not – I’m not – ”

Suddenly, the door opened.

Artemis turned. Their vision was starting to mist a bit around the edges, but they could still recognize the green of the Vekalese uniforms.

They pulled out their handgun, and heard Bryn gasp behind them. The soldiers raised their own guns, shouting orders. Artemis glared.

And then they felt something like a punch in their lower left side.

They looked down to see the syringe sticking out of their body. They caught Bryn’s eyes – wide, as though even they couldn’t believe what they’d just done.

“I’m missing something,” Artemis said absently. Nausea choked their throat.

“Drop the gun!” a solider shouted.

“Missing something. Am I hallucinating?” The world swam in and out around them. They didn’t know if it was the magic, or the contents of the syringe. “Darling, why?”

Bryn swallowed. “I know you're mad, moonshine. I’ll explain everything later.”

Artemis couldn’t answer. They could only blink slowly, and topple to the floor.

Part 7

-----

Taglist: @iamtheshriekingguineapig

[bakugosbratx]

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could write a story when y/n is the crazy one and kidnaps Bakugo. Tysm ! -meena

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Content. Yandere, stalking, kidnapping, cursing, mental illness, blood, abuse, drugs, etc.

Check out my other works here

A/N: Hmm this is a different turn of events. I love it 👀 I hope you enjoyed anon! I went a little wild with this one.

Words: 2.2k

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @lanarist @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @ssplague @ahbeautifulexistence @m779 @vinny-likes-to-play21

“Dear Katsuki,

I watched you save a civilian on television today. I know it’s your job and all, but you did not have to save her. Her life is not as important as mine. Do you not cherish what we have? Am I just a nobody to you? This is my 103rd letter to you and still no response. I know your address did not change so do not give me that pathetic excuse, Katsuki Bakugo. Surely, you must remember we are soulmates. We are one. How dare you fucking forget me? I had to rip all of my posters down in a fit of rage. You know how angry that makes me, baby, but it will all be okay, because you are coming home to me. We will be one.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

You burst into a fit of giggles as you kick your bare feet back and forth on his bed. You wrote in black ink and covered the paper in orange hearts since it is the pro-hero’s favorite color. You could not help but leave precious lipstick kisses on the page. Something you always do in your love letters to Katsuki. The posters in your house are covered in them. Katsuki’s beautiful face is just so kissable. You cannot wait to do it tonight.

All you can think about is Katsuki. That is all your day consists of. Your clothing is all his merchandise and his favorite colors. You spend hours upon hours watching interviews, videos, surveillance footage of the hero. When he is out on patrol, you do your best to hide in areas so you can see the hero up close and personal. Your face just beams with joy at the mere glance of him.

You did your best to meet him several times. Any disaster there was to be had, you put on your nicest attire, do your make-up just how you think he likes, and have your hair freshly done. No better way to greet your significant other after hero work than looking like a beauty pageant queen.

Sadly, all your attempts were failures. Katsuki did not even give you the time of day. He is way too focused on beating the villains to a pulp. You did admire this about him, but your own selfish desires created hatred in you. He should be paying attention to you. Not those pesky villains.

Katsuki is sure to receive forty-five letters addressing the issue. All that he will never even skim over. This is only adding fuel to the fire.

The posters that hang in every single room in your apartment are ripped to shreds. Pools of tears covered your orbs, smudging all of your makeup. You climbed onto your black sofa, taking your left high heel and breaking the glass photo of Katsuki hanging there. Shards of glass sprinkle the couch and hardwood floor below. You don't even care for the pieces that collected into your skin. You will worry about that later.

“Fuck you, Katsuki!” You sobbed, ripping his face with your teeth and spitting out the saliva covered photo onto the litter filled floor.

“Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite saves another civilians life yet again, taking down another member of the league of villains who was terrorizing the victim.”

The news anchor’s words fell on deaf ears as you went to the television screen. You are captivated by your significant other’s beauty on the tv. Blood leaked from your freshly manicured hands. They are painted orange and black as always.

“Oh, Katsuki,” you sighed with a smile, tracing a heart around his face with your leaking blood, “we will be together soon. I promise, baby. I’ll take you away from this sick, cruel world so we can live happily ever after.”

You were serious that day. You planned it on your calendar. The countdown began on the night you are going to be one with Katsuki. A day you knew you both looked forward to.

“Dear Katsuki,

Did you miss me? I know I missed you. I even stamped this letter in my blood so you can have my DNA to mix with yours. I can’t wait to procreate with you. We will make such wonderful babies, don’t ya think? They will be so beautiful like you. I will be such an excellent mother. No woman can be a great wife to you like I can. Do you understand me?”

You had to pause writing as your blood started to boil at the thought. Your pen is already creating a huge ink spot from the anger consuming your hands. Small growls escaped your parted lips as you began to growl.

“If I can’t have you, no one can, Katsuki Bakugo. I am your one true love. You're one and only. And I’ll make sure that day comes. Just a few more days, baby, and we will be one.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

The day finally came. You knew Katsuki’s schedule by heart. You loved watching him do his morning routines with the security cameras you placed in his home. The poor male never even thought to check. Such a mistake on his part. It only confirmed he needed protection from the world. Only you can provide that. Sure, you may be quirkless, but no one knows Katsuki like you do. No one can love him like you. He knows this. He has to.

You drew a luke-warm bubble bath with nice lit candles, rose pedals, a few drops of your blood, and some freshly made desserts for you both to enjoy while you catch up. You are even so kind enough to fetch him a beer or two so he can relax. You know how he enjoys his alcoholic beverages after a long day of hero work.

You rested on his bed. The natural caramel scent engulfed your nostrils as you wrote letters into your notebook once more. Even when you two are officially together forever, you still love to write out your thoughts. You know he enjoys them as well.

Hours upon hours passed. Frustration arose overtime. You did not want to be angry with your spouse, but he knows better than to be home late on your special day. You have almost filled up your notepad with phrases upon phrases of ‘I love you’s’ and sweet nothings. Along with other things.

You tapped your bandages covered foot on the ground as you began to pace. “What is taking him so long?” You huffed aloud, growing more impatient by each passing second. The bath is beginning to become cold and that is just rude in your opinion. You decided to write out your emotions.

“Dear Katsuki,

What the fuck is taking you so long, huh? It’s so fucking aggervating and just plain rude. I have done so much for you only to toss me to the side like I’m nothing. Are you cheating on me? I do not tolerate disrespect, Katsuki Bakugo. You are going to make me mean and you know I hate being mean to you. You just make me jealous, baby. You know how you do that to me. Make me feel all types of emotion I can’t seem to understand, but one thing is for certain is that you and I will be together.

Sincerely,”

You did not even get to finish your final entry as you hear the front door downstairs unlock. Scrambling to put the diary away, you gather the necessary items from under the bed and wait for the perfect moment to strike. Katsuki’s natural loud ways was helping you locate his every move without even having to look at security footage.

All you have to do is be patient.

Katsuki sat on the couch, propping his sock-covered feet onto the glass coffee table and turning on the television. You allowed him some moments to get settled before gently tip-toeing down the stairs, rope, duct tape, and a blunt object ready in hand.

Just as Katsuki turned to acknowledge your presence, the crowbar hit his head, knocking him unconscious. You quickly attend to his wound — not without dropping some droplets of blood into his — so it does not get offended. You cannot have your husband getting an infection.

You tie up his hands and legs, duct tape his mouth after delivering kisses to his perfectly plump lips, and drag him to the kitchen. You did not realize how much your lover really weighed. Too much time was wasted dragging him to the fridge than preferred, but it will all be worth it in the end. You know it will be.

Katsuki did not wake up until the next day. You stayed by his side the whole time, telling him about your day and how much you have planned for you two. Of course, he needs to build his trust with you. You love a very intelligent man and the last thing you need is for him to be against you.

Slowly opening his crimson eyes, his attention is brought to a grinning you. Katsuki immediately attempts to escape the captivity he is in, but it is no use. You just had to buy special rope that cancels quirks.

“Struggle all you want, Katsuki-poo. There is no escaping me.” You chuckled, loving the way he squirmed and furrowed his eyebrows at you. All of his curses are mumbled by the tape which is probably the best considering you did not want to be insulted right now.

“When you calm down, I’ll take off the tape.” You bargained, shrugging nonchalantly as you kneel in front of the man. Did this calm him down? No. You know it wouldn’t regardless. You know Katsuki better than he knows himself yet you already want to push his buttons. The way he gets so angry turns you on and you can’t just help yourself but want more.

After a couple of hours of Katsuki complaining and you writing even more in your diary, he decided to calm down. This made you happy. You wanted to hear his beautiful gruff voice.

Grabbing the corner of the tape, you rip it off. Katsuki is already barking insults. “Are you fucking insane? Who the hell even are you? This isn’t going to end well with you, you psycho bit—“

A hard slap to his face interrupted Katsuki’s spill. Along with the duct tape you placed back on his mouth. “Such a meanie,” you pout, “and here I was about to be so nice to you.”

This cycle repeated itself for three days. You never left his side once. How could you? He is obviously in distress. He needs you by his side. He cannot do anything without you. Especially with his hands tied behind his muscular back. Katsuki finally decided that playing the game is the only way to win it.

You ripped the tape off once again. Katsuki did not even speak this time. “Did you learn your lesson?” You quizzed with an arched brow. “Y’know being a meanie is not going to get you anywhere, Katsukikins.”

“Why are you doing this?” Katsuki inquired, his gruff voice sounding so weak and hollow. You almost felt bad.

“You’re so silly, Suki. C’mon,” you brought your lips close to his, “gimme a kiss.”

Reluctantly, Katsuki did as instructed. Considering you are straddling his lap and his powers are useless, he has no choice in the matter. You loved the compliance.

“Good boy.” You praised, ruffling his messy blonde hair. Katsuki glared at you. “Will you be good and eat some food for me?”

“I don’t want your stupid ass food.” Katsuki growled, laying his head against the bottom freezer of his fridge.

“Nonsense, Suki.” You giggled, feeling extremely joyful to be with Katsuki. You bring a spoon of Miso soup up to his closed lips, “have some. I blew on it so it’s not too hot.”

“Get that trash away from me, you idiot—“ Katsuki was interrupted by a spoon entering his mouth. Though he would hate to admit this, the soup tasted delicious and he is quite hungry. He put up a fight, but allowed you to feed him properly until every drop was gone. Unfortunately, Katsuki is unaware that the soup is drugged until it’s too late.

His body began to feel numb. He did not even have the strength to ask questions as his eyes became drowsy. Soon, he is slumped over, sound asleep as you manage to drag him up the stairs and into your shared bed.

Planting kisses all over structures, you tuck him in and finish some late night entries in your diary. Skimming through them all and reflecting on how you got here now, it made you smile. Progress has been made and will continue to do so.

Signing off on the final page, you write:

“Dear Katsuki,

These past three days have been exhilarating. I see it in your terrified eyes how happy you are that I am here. I know how much you missed me. I missed you, too, baby. We will continue to grow and soon, we will have children. I even have my menstrual cycle all planned out. I am all yours and you’re all mine. Can’t you see, baby doll? We are forever meant to be.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[ayybtch]

The One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Things are going up and down for you as you try to navigate life after your breakup with Bucky. Everything leads to an accidental run-in with him at a coffee shop that leaves you and Bucky wondering if things could have been different. Based on the song The 1 by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: This is an angsty fic. The reader is actively struggling with mental illness and a breakup. There are mentions of being on antidepressants and symptoms such as anxiety, insomnia, and sometimes not having the energy for personal care, but nothing in-depth.

Word Count: 11,261

A/N: I owe a very special thank you to @borkingbarnes​, who has supportively been screaming at me for writing this ever since I told her this idea and gave me some brilliant suggestions during her beta read. The dividers were made by the lovely @whimsicalrogers​.

“So, how have the new meds been treating you? Are they still making you nauseous after you first take them?”

You looked across the room at your therapist and shook your head, “No, they’re not making me nauseous anymore. I’ve been making sure that I’ve got food in my stomach first and not just a cup of coffee. I’ve also been better about taking them at the same time each day,” you said.

She smiled at you. “Do you feel like they’ve been helping?”

You shrugged and offered a half-smile back. Not satisfied with your answer, she continued probing. “Well, do you feel like you have more energy than on the other meds? Are you sleeping more….?” She trailed off at the end, voice hopeful.

“Oh. Yeah, I have been sleeping a little better. I’ve been sleeping closer to 5 hours each night, though it’s still taking a really long time for me to fall asleep. I’ve had more energy but I don’t know if that’s because of the meds or the sleep?” You trailed off a bit at the end, unsure of if that truly answered her question.

“It could be a mix of both. I’m glad to hear you’re sleeping more though, you weren’t getting very much when you first started seeing me.” She offered you another smile before adjusting herself in her seat and continuing, “Now, what have you been doing with this extra energy? Any new hobbies, catching up with friends, going on dates, anything like that?”

You shook your head no. “I don’t have much of a friend group anymore, not since…” your voice faded before the sentence finished. You closed your eyes and shook your head slightly. Pull yourself together. “I am meeting Natasha after this, actually. She and I were friends before everything and she’s the only one that’s really stuck around since. It’s been about a month since I last saw her so I’m looking forward to seeing her.” The therapist nodded and offered a sympathetic smile that made your stomach turn. You decided to continue before she chimed in.

“I’m running again too. I used to go on a nightly run before things got bad. It’s not for as long or as far as I used to but it’s better than sitting on the couch, I guess.”

She nodded and began writing on her notepad, “That’s wonderful. What do you enjoy about your runs?”

Her question was unexpected and it took you a minute to answer. “It’s peaceful. It’s one of the few times I can shut my brain off and zone out. Though, if it’s a bad day it doesn't always work.”

She nodded and paused, as if trying to carefully choose her next words. “One thing I’ve noticed whenever stuff comes up is that you always talk about ‘before’, but what about the ‘after’? Have you thought about trying to get back out there and start your ‘after’?” An uncomfortable knot formed in your stomach as she spoke.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” you whispered.

She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. Eventually, she nodded and continued to make notes.

                                         ***

The session continued for another half hour before it ended with a smile and a brief conversation with her secretary, confirming your appointment for the same time next week.

As you stepped out the door, you let out a sigh of relief. Therapy sessions were hard. Even though today’s session had been relatively mild, the process was still draining and left you feeling exhausted most days. It really helped though and making the decision to go was one of the best decisions you could have made for yourself. A smile settled on your face as you pulled your jacket tighter across your chest before beginning your walk to meet Natasha.

You had discovered soon after starting therapy that walking to and from the appointment gave you the time you needed to prepare yourself for the session and unwind after. The hustle and bustle of New York created the perfect background noise for you to organize your thoughts. Most days it helped you process the questions the therapist asked. Often, you answered them a little deeper than what you had in the session knowing that nobody would know the real answer except for you.

Guilt gnawed at you as you thought about it. Wasn’t the whole point of therapy to be honest? Were you still getting as much out of it as you could if you were completely honest? You shook your head and sighed. Sometimes there were things better left unsaid.

One of the many things that had been left unsaid had to do with what you missed most about being with him. You had shrugged it off when she asked, saying it was nice having a person around because it was less lonely. While true, the full answer was more painful than you felt comfortable admitting out loud. He had understood you in ways nobody else ever had and nobody else ever would again. It gave you the freedom to be unapologetically you every second of the day. The thought of not being known like that again and having to put on a facade felt like the loneliest existence the universe had to offer. It made your chest ache.

Today though, it gave you the chance to collect your thoughts before Natasha had the opportunity to interrogate you. To be fair, it wasn’t really an interrogation. She was far too gentle when she asked you questions, though you’re sure that’s one of the many techniques she chose from. Interrogation or not though, she would be watching you like a hawk the entire meal to make sure you were actually doing as well as you were claiming.

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside Natasha’s favorite Italian restaurant. She always recommended meeting up here purely because of the breadsticks. She swore they were the best in New York and ate at least three full baskets by herself each visit. You paused before entering, suddenly nervous about how it would go. There’s nothing to worry about, Natasha isn’t going to bring him up and isn’t going to push me past my boundaries. You weren’t quite as convinced as you would have liked to be, but you couldn’t delay it any longer as you stepped inside.

A blast of warm air surrounded you as you were greeted by the hostess. It didn’t take for her to lead you back to where Natasha was sitting, a glass of wine already in her hand. A second sat waiting on the table for you.

You walked over, bending down to give her a side hug and a peck on the cheek.

“You’re late,” she said reproachfully, eyes zeroed in on yours.

“I know, I’m sorry. My session went a little over today.” You pulled out your chair and sat down before continuing, “How are you? It’s good to see you.”

Natasha smiled brightly. “I’ve been good. I’ve been really looking forward to this, I was so happy when you said yes. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve seen you.” You grinned slightly and she continued. “I’m sorry that it’s been so long since we’ve had a chance to catch up. Work has been keeping me even busier than usual. Stark has been working on all sorts of new tech developments and has somehow recruited me for testing.”

You nodded as you took a sip of your wine, “Nothing he’s made has killed you yet. That’s impressive.”

She snorted, “He’s lucky I didn’t flat out say no. His last update to the Falcon wings sent Wilson through the ceiling and landed him in the medbay for three days with a concussion.” Natasha noticed the look of concern on your face and waved her hand as she sipped on her wine. “He’s fine, don’t worry. All of the Avengers men have skulls harder than concrete.” The two of you burst into laughter at the thought.

A waiter arrived as your laughter died down to take your orders and to refill Natasha’s wine glass. You both thanked him as he turned to walk away. A quiet settled over the table and Natasha’s gaze landed firmly on you.

“So how have you been?” she asked softly, voice far gentler than anyone would expect from a former assassin. You shrugged and avoided eye contact.

“Some days are better than others,” you said, “Overall things are better than they’ve been for a while now though. My shrink has me on some new meds that seem to be helping and I’ve been working harder on doing little things to take care of myself every day, not just the good days.”

Natasha nodded, eyes still fixed on you. Slowly, she reached a hand out across the table and placed it on top of yours. “You know I’m always here for you, right? You can call me any time of day and as long as I’m not on a mission, I can be at your apartment within the hour.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at her words. You nodded quickly, eyes blinking fast to try and keep the tears that were welling up from falling. She gave your hand a quick squeeze before pulling back.

“Now where the hell are our breadsticks? This is going to be a failed meal if I have less than twelve in me before the main dish arrives.” Her words made you burst out laughing once again and succeeded in putting a smile on your face for the remainder of the meal.

                                        ***

“Are you sure I can’t drive you back to your apartment?” Natasha asked, wrapping her scarf around her neck as the two of you stepped out of the restaurant. You nodded at her and smiled.

“I enjoy walking, it clears my mind,” you said. She let out a disapproving hum but didn’t argue further. She pulled you into a bone-crushing hug before turning and walking towards where her car was parked. You watched as she stepped in and waved as she pulled out of the parking lot. You stood and watched until her car was out of sight before turning to start the walk home.

As it was on the walk to the restaurant, the busy streets provided the perfect background noise needed for you to quiet your mind. You focused on your breathing, allowing yourself to try and channel any residual nervous energy outward. With each breath, the faces passing by began to blur. Neon signs hanging in the windows of the shops you passed by became nothing more than a gentle glow in your peripheral. With each step you took, the background seamlessly blended together more and your focus on yourself heightened. A sense of calm settled itself in your chest. The feeling grew stronger with each block you passed until a small smile made its way onto your face. That feeling ended abruptly as you turned around the next block.  

There was a large crowd waiting at the bus stop, but your eyes focused on one man. You stared at his silhouette, panic building with each second. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you and your feet had magically turned into cinder blocks. Is that...? No, it couldn’t be…

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, the man turned slightly so you could see his face, and a sigh of relief left you. You stood there a moment longer to examine his side profile. It wasn’t him; he just happened to look like him. He was about the same height and weight, with similar chocolate waves. Your eyes landed on his light brown leather jacket and a lump formed in your throat. He had worn a similar jacket the day you met. It felt like being thrown back in time as you continued to stare at the man in front of you.

Natasha drug you through a hallway, not caring about your protests to slow down. “I have someone I want you to meet.” She smirked as she spoke, leaving you to wonder what she was plotting.

A group of choices greeted the two of you as you entered the room. You waved at Steve and Sharon sitting on the couch as Natasha continued to pull you across the room to where two men were standing. One of the men was Sam, whom you had met the last time Natasha brought you to the compound. The other was Bucky Barnes. You hadn’t met him before but you knew who he was. It was impossible not to given how public everything about Hydra had become.

“Barnes, I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Natasha said, turning slightly towards you.

Bucky turned to look at you, offering a charming smile as he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Bucky.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself, hoping to god you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. The pictures of him floating around on the news did not do him justice. Bucky was absolutely breathtaking. His smile lit up his eyes in a way no camera could ever hope to capture. His hair was cropped just above his shoulders, falling into a beautiful wavy pattern. You realized you were staring and felt your face get hot.

“Uh, I like your jacket,” you mumbled, hoping he hadn’t realized you were staring. The leather jacket was a beautiful light brown. It looked old, but well loved at the same time.

He smiled widely at you, “Thanks! Leather jackets are kind of my thing. Sam here thinks I have too many but there’s no such thing as too many leather jackets, wouldn’t you agree?”

As the memory floated away, you couldn’t help but think how Bucky probably would’ve gone up to the man to ask about his jacket. You chuckled at the thought. As soon as he walked away, he would’ve immediately started looking up where he could find one for his own closet. It didn’t matter how many leather jackets he had. He always wanted more.

The chuckle died on your lips and was replaced by an uncomfortable knot settling in your stomach. A heavy weight fell on your chest and you forced yourself to find the energy to trudge forward.

The remainder of the walk was a blur, but not in the same way it had been before. This wasn’t the good kind of blur that helped you to focus. It was the kind that left you feeling suffocated and as if everything would come crashing down all at once. That had been the first happy thought about Bucky since the two of you broke up. His presence in your thoughts was so strong, he might as well have been walking right next to you. You could practically feel his knuckles brushing against yours with each step you took. If you closed your eyes, you swore you could smell his cologne.

The harsh reality of how alone you were hit you as the greeting from your apartment’s doorman pulled you from your thoughts. You shot him a small smile before rushing inside and all but sprinting up the stairs. Your hands shook as you unlocked the door to your apartment, though you couldn't tell if it was from your thoughts of Bucky or from the sudden burst of energy that left you slightly winded.

Once inside, you rushed to your bedroom and changed into the first sports bra and pair of leggings you saw. You needed to get Bucky off your mind and the only way you knew how was to run. It was going to be a long run tonight.

The doorman waved at you again as you exited the building, surprised to see you again so soon. “Someone is feeling motivated today I see,” he joked. You shrugged and slowly began to jog.

                                        ***

It took a while to get into your groove, but once you were there you felt good. The movement helped settle the anxious energy that had been building since you had seen the man at the bus stop, while the steady breathing brought your focus back to the here and now just like it had before. That’s something else to mention if she asks about my runs again, you thought.  These runs bring my focus to this exact moment in time.

That thought was lost as you passed a small, hole in the wall theater. Small groups were exiting the building, each talking excitedly amongst themselves about the movie that had just finished. The nauseous feeling from earlier came back as memories resurfaced. That was Bucky’s favorite movie theater. Every Sunday they played movies from the 1920s and 1930s. He used to drag you along with him whenever he saw one he remembered from his childhood. Each time he swore up and down that you were about to experience a cinematic masterpiece like no other and that it would change the way you looked at movies. You always rolled your eyes as he said it, but the magic you felt in that theater with him was like no other.

Movies made back then were so different from the movies made now. The characters felt so much more real. They were allowed to be people. Their faults and flaws didn’t take away from the good things about them. These films never failed to make you feel all of the emotions you were meant to feel and each time you exited the theater, you couldn’t help but wish you could’ve remained in that little bubble just a few minutes longer. Those bittersweet feelings about the ending never lasted long though, as Bucky would wrap his arm around your shoulder and proceed to talk your ear off about the movie until you made it home.

“You know Doll, the greatest films of all time were never made,” he said, smiling down at you.

You just laughed and shook your head.“Bucky that makes absolutely no sense.”

Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically, making you laugh again. “Think about it though, how many movies haven’t been made because someone decided they weren’t good enough for the big screen? How many stories have been brought into existence but never been told to another living soul?”

A car horn brought you back into reality. Bitterness crept into your chest as you processed the memory that had just played out picture-perfect in your mind. Those afternoons with him in the theater had been some of the best afternoons of your life. Even if you weren’t crazy about the movie, Bucky’s sheer excitement about it was enough to convince you of how wonderful it truly was. If only he had felt that same amount of joy in other areas of your relationship.

Your bitterness slowly began to turn to anger as you thought about the last few months of being with Bucky. Sunday matinees had stopped being a regular thing as Bucky’s work schedule picked up until they stopped happening entirely. His new position training new SHIELD agents and prospective new members to the Avenger ate away at his time. All of his time. It got to the point Bucky never stopped working. Even at home, his thoughts were on paperwork to be filed, training to be planned, or meetings to be run. You’d be sitting on the couch next to him trying to talk only to receive disinterested “hmms” or the occasional “That’s nice honey.”

You tried bringing it up to no avail. He always brushed it off and said things would calm down eventually and that he just needed you to hold out a bit longer. He never outright said his work was more important to him but the implication was there and you felt the weight of it every single day. You bit your tongue and played along for a while, but after several months of hearing the same excuses, you finally snapped. Unfortunately, so did Bucky.

“All you ever do is work. I can’t remember the last time we went and did something together. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time you cared enough to even ask me about my day. It’s like you don’t even want me around anymore,” you hissed, glaring at Bucky.

“Excuse me for caring about my fucking job. One of us has to if we’re going to continue affording this place,” he scoffed.

Ice filled your veins as you stared at him, fist clenched at your side. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, we both know you’re barely getting your work done on time. You lay here on the couch all day watching TV. You’re lucky you’re allowed to work from home because you look like a walking disaster half the time. You’ve stopped wearing clean clothes, you hardly shower, you hardly eat, and you hardly sleep. Face it, you’re depressed.” His voice was flat as he spoke.

You furiously blinked back tears that were trying to well up as you processed his words. “First of all, I am not depressed,” you muttered, “Second, if I’m such a walking disaster then what are you even still doing here?”

“I am still here because I care about you. I have lost track of how many times I have asked you to get help. I’ve been where you are, I know what you’re going through and I know what it takes to come back from it. If you never bleed, you’re never going to grow. If you can’t move past this, then we -” he paused to motion between the two of you “- can’t move past this.” His eyes never left yours as he spoke. There was no malice in them, but there was also none of the kindness or warmth you wished for. His gaze just felt indifferent.  

You remained silent as you tried to find words. Bucky continued watching you, waiting expectantly for a response. A response never came, however, and he let out a loud sigh.

“If you don’t have anything to say to that, then I think we’re done here. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I love you, but neither of us is happy. I can’t give you what you want and you can’t give me what I need,” Without another word, Bucky grabbed his coat and walked out the front door of the apartment.

That was the last time that you saw Bucky. He had sent you a text a few days later asking when a good time to come pick up his stuff would be. You responded begrudgingly, telling yourself that the sooner his stuff was gone the sooner your life could get back to normal. When the day came, you forced yourself to get out of the apartment. The thought of seeing him after what went down between you left you seeing red. When you finally went back after he left, you felt none of the happy emotions you had convinced yourself you would feel.

Instead, you felt the empty spots in the room. Every missing item you noticed felt like a blow to the stomach and caused fresh tears to well up in your eyes. Pictures were no longer hanging from the walls; random gaps were in the bookshelves; his leather jacket was no longer slung across the back of the chair he loved in the living room. You stumbled back to your room with your eyes closed, refusing to see what other memories had been ripped from their rightful homes. Once there, you collapsed on the bed and laid there for two days. It wasn’t until Natasha broke into your apartment to check on you after countless missed calls and ignored texts that you finally moved from that spot.

For the millionth time that day, your stomach twisted as thoughts of Bucky floated around in your head. Despite it all, you regretted not being there when he came to get his things. There was never a proper goodbye between you and the thought drove you mad sometimes. Maybe if I had been there, we could’ve worked this out. You scoffed at the thought, but couldn’t deny the heaviness lingering in your chest.

At times you considered reaching out to him, wondering if he would be willing to give you the closure you so desperately needed. Even if it was just over text, it might be better than the nothing you currently had. You still had his number. The two of you even still followed each other on social media. He liked what few posts you made, but you had never been able to bring yourself to look at the stuff he posted. The lines of communication were there, you just had to use them. But communication is a two-way street; if he wanted to talk to you, he’d reach out. Right? That thought had kept you from texting him more times than you could possibly count.

Questions about what could have happened that day swirled throughout your head as your feet pounded against the pavement. Could you have fixed things, or would it still have ended in breaking up? Could you have agreed to still be friends? Would you have at least been able to say goodbye, or would he have walked silently out the door again?

The thoughts continued to plague you until the ache in your legs was too strong to take another step. Out of breath, you looked around at where you stopped trying to figure out how far you had run. It wasn’t until you noticed the fountain about a dozen feet behind you that you realized where you were.

Tony had once rented out a plaza nearby for a 1920s themed fundraiser gala the first year you and Bucky were dating. The gala was the first public event you ever attended with him, though it certainly hadn’t been your last. Natasha had taken you shopping and helped you find a flapper-style dress leading up to it. The two of you did your hair and makeup together, giggling about how you felt like you were getting ready for a high school dance. When you stepped out of the room with Natasha, Bucky wasn’t able to speak. He spent the whole night staring at you like a lovestruck teenager, only to turn bright red whenever someone mentioned it.

Towards the end of the night, you and Bucky had drunkenly stumbled out of the plaza to escape the crowd and found your way over to this fountain. Rather, you had stumbled out drunkenly. Bucky wasn’t affected by human alcohol and hardly had any of the Asgardian mead Thor had so generously brought. While he was a little more cheery than usual, he wasn’t intoxicated enough to even pretend like he was tipsy.

A giggle left your lips as you stumbled forward. “Bucky, I need to find somewhere to sit down. I need to take off my heels.”

Bucky laughed at you and picked you up, carrying you bridal style. He spun around slowly as he searched for somewhere he could set you down. His eyes eventually settled on the fountain and began walking towards it. He carefully set you down before sitting down next to you. His eyes were fixed on you as you took off your shoes, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth as you did. You smiled over at him, before turning around to stare at the fountain in wonder. A giggle left your lips as you pulled up your dress and began walking around in the fountain.

You laughed any time you went through a jet of water. The temperature difference was soothing against your skin and almost left a tickling sensation as you passed. Eventually, you arrived back at where he was sitting and the smile on his face filled your stomach with butterflies. You bent down slightly to press your lips against his, your hands making their way through his hair. His hands landed on your hips and pulled you closer to him. You felt dizzy as he held you, though you weren’t sure if it was him or the glasses of champagne. You pulled away abruptly as an idea struck you, leading to Bucky’s eyes opening in confusion. His gaze fell upon the mischievous look you wore and he opened his mouth to speak. Before he managed to make a sound, your hands left his hair and were reaching down to splash water onto him.

He tried to catch your hands to stop you, but you stepped back just out of reach, but not far enough you couldn’t keep splashing him. Without a word, he reached down to take off his shoes and socks. A gasp left you as he stepped into the fountain and you rushed to hide behind the fountain’s centerpiece. He chased after you, hands eventually catching your waist and spinning you around to face him. He stared down at you, wonder and adoration written on his face. He slowly leaned forward to press his lips against yours.

The dizzy feeling from before came back, though this time you could say with absolute certainty it was because of the man standing in front of you. His lips were so soft against yours, yet still carried such a force they left you breathless. Fireworks had nothing on how he made you feel. No words could ever hope to describe the love and adoration bursting in your chest.

This time, he was the one to pull back first. He moved his lips up slightly, pressing a kiss to your nose and your forehead before leaning his head against yours. “Would you like to dance?”

You nodded and the two of you began to slow dance in the fountain. You don’t know how long you were in the fountain dancing; it felt like eternity paused to give you and your love all the time the universe had to give so you could enjoy this moment a little longer. The only sensations tying you to reality were Bucky’s warmth and the cool water moving at your feet as Bucky spun you around. You pulled away slightly and smiled at him. “We should make a wish,” you said.

Bucky looked at you with confusion. “A wish?”

You nodded, a small smile filling your face, “You know, toss some coins into the fountain and make a wish as we do.”

The laugh that left his lips made your heart flutter. “I don’t think this is a wishing-well. Although -” he paused to laugh again, “-I hardly think they meant for anyone to dance around in it either, so why not.” One of his hands left yours and reached into his pocket, looking for his wallet. He opened it and pulled out two pennies and handed one to you. “It looks like we only get one wish each tonight, so we’d better make it a good one.”

You stared down at the penny in your hand, wondering what wish could possibly be better than the night you were currently having with Bucky. The wish hit you suddenly, a smile breaking out on your face. You pressed your lips to the penny and wished with all your might, ‘I wish for us to have more moments like this together, from now through the rest of our days”. You opened your eyes and tossed the penny outward. Bucky’s coin was soon nestled safely at the bottom of the fountain with yours.

“What did you wish for?” he asked, pulling you back into his arms to continue dancing.

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” you teased, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as he spun you. “And let me tell you, I really want this wish to come true.”

Bucky chuckled, “Me too honey, me too.”

Your eyes came back into focus and a quiet sob left you. You stood in front of the fountain and cried into your hands, cursing all of the emotions you felt. That night had left you convinced that Bucky Barnes was the one. You had fallen asleep dreaming of dancing like that with him at your wedding. But now? Now all you wanted to do was scream. You wanted to scream at him, at yourself, and at the universe for being cruel enough to lead you back to this fountain without him at your side.

As the tears began to slow, a new kind of weight settled in your chest. He really could have been the one. He could have been everything you dreamed of and more, but there was nothing you could do to go back in time to change things. He decided to walk out that door and leave you with nothing more than an empty space in your heart, one to match the empty spaces he left in your apartment.

The questions the therapist had asked you started ringing through your ears as you continued to stare blankly at the fountain. What about the ‘after’? Maybe she had a point bringing it up today. You were still stuck in the ‘before’. Maybe it was finally time to start moving on. Missing items could be replaced; missing love could be given by someone else. All you had to do was make the decision to take your first steps into the ‘after’.

Your feet remained glued in place as you tried to make sense of it all.

You were confused as to where you were. Looking around, nothing seemed familiar. It wasn’t until a familiar silhouette caught your attention that you realized where you were. Bucky stood at the top of the mountain, staring down at the canyon below. Green trees and bushes lined the ground and the air was filled with the sound of birds chirping. The view was beautiful, but you couldn’t stop staring at Bucky. He looked the same, yet something felt different. Bucky seemed calmer than you had seen him in years, almost as if all of his stress had faded away. His body language was relaxed and he seemed to be in no rush to leave where he was.

Suddenly, the once green mountain top was now covered in a blanket of snow. Bucky was now wearing a thick winter coat and was strapping his feet onto a snowboard. He soon had his helmet and goggles on and began his descent down the mountain. It felt like you were flying along with him as you watched him expertly weave his way through the trees. The ease at which he moved confused you. Since when did Bucky know how to snowboard? He expressed wanting to try but never had while you were together. Confusion clouded your mind until Bucky reached the bottom of the mountain and came to a halt. He removed his helmet and a look of pure exhilaration filled his face. His excitement made your heart burst. As you reached out to try and touch him, the scene changed once again.

This time you were in the middle of the ocean. The vast expanse of blue was the only visible thing in sight other than Bucky. He was in full scuba gear, just floating there waiting. He was so still that if it weren't for the stream of bubbles that came with each exhale, you wouldn’t have been able to tell if he was breathing. Out of nowhere, a shape appeared in the distance. As it got closer, you felt your stomach drop. A large shark swam slowly towards Bucky. You rolled your eyes at the realization. Of course, he would go swimming with sharks with no safety cage. That idiot had no respect for your nerves or your -

You were woken up abruptly by the sound of your phone ringing. You groaned and cursed yourself for it somehow not being on silent. In your confused state, you reached out and slowly felt around on the top of your nightstand trying to find your phone. Once you found it, you tilted the screen so you could see who was calling. A beautiful picture of Natasha filled your screen and you sighed. Only Natasha could call randomly and happen to wake you up from a dream about Bucky. You pressed the answer button and begrudgingly brought the phone to your ear.

“Morning, you better have a good reason for waking me up,” you mumbled, letting out a yawn as you finished speaking.

“It’s past noon, you know. Most decent people are already up by now,” You could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke.

“Shut up. It’s still morning if I haven’t gotten out of bed yet. What do you want? I was having a nice dream.”

Your gruff response got a laugh from Natasha. “Well I was calling to see how your Tinder date went last night, but now I’m wondering if I should be asking what you were dreaming about that has you being this testy,” she teased.

You rubbed your eyes and groaned, “The dream was nothing special, I’m just mad you woke me up. The Tinder date was also nothing to write home about. The guy was awful. He started off super charming like they always do, but he got snappy with our waitress and then tried to get snappy with me when I called him out on it. I paid for my half of the bill and left as quickly as I could.”

“Ugh, gross. Men are actually the worst,” Natasha said. You hummed in agreement and she continued, “So are you ready for me to start setting you up, or are you going to keep giving these Tinder people a try?”

You sighed and paused for a moment to think. “Nat, I know you’re trying to help but the only people you have that you can set me up with are all SHIELD employees. I don’t see it ending well if I go down that path given my prior dating history.”

A scoff came through the phone. “He’s dating again too, so he has no right to be pissy about anything if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, he was also the one who ended it so he doubly has no right to be upset.”

You sat up straight as she spoke, your stomach dropping at the thought. “He’s dating again?” Your voice sounded small, smaller than it had in ages.

This time it was Natasha’s turn to pause before responding. “Yes. He’s taken a few of the receptionists here out on coffee dates, but nothing seems to be sticking. If Wilson is to be believed, he’s also on Tinder. I can’t imagine that’s working out very well for him either though.”

You felt nauseous, but you forced yourself to pause to recenter your thoughts. Of course he would be dating again. It’s been almost a year since you broke up. If you’re dating again, it only makes sense that he is as well. He deserves to be happy too. A heavy sigh left you, “Well, I hope he’s having better luck than I am.”

                                        ***

You were on the phone with Natasha for another twenty minutes before she had to go. It felt nice catching up with her, and the two of you made plans for another lunch get together later in the week. The conversation had quickly transitioned away from dating, but the fact Bucky was dating again lingered in the back of your mind for the entirety of the call.

You had been on Tinder for a while now, but somehow it never occurred to you that he might be too. How does a superhero just casually join the worst dating app in existence? Do people actually believe it’s him when they come across his profile? You couldn’t help but snort at the thought. Conversations on dating apps sucked enough as it is, but having to try and prove you’re who you say you are the way Bucky must have to certainly would make it that much less enjoyable.

Almost as if it knew you were thinking about it, a Tinder notification popped up on your lock screen. You opened up the app and saw two new messages from someone you had matched with. You typed out a response and then proceeded to scroll through the list of other potential matches. Most of the profiles you looked at were immediate no’s, but there were a few you swiped right on. It never ceased to amaze you how bad the men on this app were at smiling in pictures. Most of them had only a slight grin in one or two pictures. Any profile with a man properly smiling almost always got a swipe right. The only other type of picture that had that sort of response was for cute cats and dogs.

You continued to swipe, pausing occasionally to respond to a message. Out of nowhere, a familiar pair of blue eyes started staring up at you, causing you to nearly drop your phone in surprise. Of course the day you find out Bucky is on Tinder is the day you come across his profile. You quickly took a screenshot before swiping left and exiting out of the app. You sent the screenshot to Natasha. She responded almost immediately, Guess Wilson was telling the truth 🙄

You laughed at her response as you got out of bed, ready to finally start your day.

                                        ***

A sigh of relief left you as you collapsed on your couch after spending most of the afternoon running errands. It hadn’t been anything too bad, but that didn’t stop you from being thankful it was over. You laid there for a few minutes, just enjoying the stillness and the comfort of being on your couch. Once settled, you reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the glass of wine you had poured, and opened up your phone.

You opened up Snapchat and responded to the few snaps you had from Natasha and other friends before opening up Instagram. You mindlessly watched people’s stories, skipping through any of the ones that didn’t interest you. You paused however on Bucky’s.

He was standing next to a beautiful woman, each of them holding a painting in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Both of them had smiles that filled their faces. You stared at the picture, unsure of what you should be feeling. On one hand, it was nice seeing him so relaxed and happy. His posture reminded you eerily of how he looked in your dream. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but feel a touch of bitterness. You had practically begged him to go with you to a wine and paint night while you were together. He always used work as an excuse, either he was too tired from work or he had too much work left to do. You stared at the picture for a minute longer, wondering if they’d be going home together or parting ways for the night. You sighed, shaking your head at your own stupidity before continuing to scroll.

The wind blew violently around you as you struggled to make your way up the street. The weather turned unexpectedly as you were out on your run, so you rushed towards the closest coffee shop hoping to wait out the weather and avoid having to pay for a cab back home. The barista greeted you as you stepped inside and you offered her a smile.

“What can I get for you?” she asked.

You stared up at the menu, considering your options. “One large hazelnut latte and a cinnamon roll, please.”

She entered everything into the computer and you held out your card for her. Once your payment was processed, you turned to find a seat. The coffee shop was crowded, no doubt due to the bad weather driving people indoors. You looked around unsuccessfully and had almost resigned yourself to standing when a familiar voice called out.

You jumped at the sound. You turned around and made eye contact with Bucky Barnes for the first time since he walked out your front door. He was sitting there grinning ear to ear, almost as if he was genuinely happy to see you. The thought made your heart burst and it was impossible to hold back an equally big smile.

“Hey Bucky, how’s it going?”

“It’s going really well! Thanks for asking,” he paused and looked around before continuing, “Do you want to sit down? There’s not a lot of seating left and it’s just me here.” His hand gestured towards the empty seat across from him as he spoke.

You paused, unsure of if you should take it or continue to look elsewhere. You looked around the room for an empty seat but didn’t see any. Well, I guess we’re doing this. You stepped forward and mumbled out a thanks as you sat down.

“I’m kind of surprised to see you here if I’m honest. I didn’t think you came to this part of the city very often,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I generally don’t. The weather took a bit of a nasty turn while I was out on my run. I stepped in hoping that by the time I’m ready to leave it’ll have calmed down.”

Another smile broke out across his face as you spoke. “You’re running again? That’s awesome.” He sounded sincere as he spoke which made you smile back.

You nodded, but before you could respond the barista arrived with your coffee and cinnamon roll. You thanked her and took a long sip of your coffee, enjoying the warmth you felt as you did. An awkward silence filled the air as both of you tried to size the other up. You decided to break the silence.

“So, what’s new with you?”

                                        ***

An hour later, the two of you were still chatting away happily at the table. Once the conversation started, it didn’t stop. Everything felt like it had at the start of your relationship: easy, comfortable, and filled with excitement. The only pauses that occurred were when the barista refilled both of your coffees and brought Bucky a cinnamon roll, which he ordered after you spent five minutes going on about how incredible it was.

One of the things you had forgotten about being around Bucky was the warmth he exuded. Even on his worst days, he had the unwavering ability to make the room feel safe. You couldn’t ever quite pin down whether it had to do with his cologne being a comforting smell or if that’s just who he was. All you knew is that he always left you aching to lean into his chest and stay there until you absolutely couldn’t. Needless to say, today it left you feeling quite confused given everything that had happened between you.

The thoughts you had several months ago about getting closure were brought back to the forefront of your mind. How had things gotten so bad between you? How had both of you let this wonderful thing fall to pieces without even one final attempt at holding it together? Each little pause in the conversation as you transitioned between topics left you aching to ask all of the questions you had. Everything was so easy and so smooth between you today that you almost felt hope that things were salvageable between you. Maybe, just maybe, your fountain wish could still come true. As you were finally working up the courage to ask, his next sentence knocked all other thoughts out of your head.

“Did you hear that Steve and Sharon are finally engaged? Took that meathead long enough to ask.”

A gasp left your mouth, “No way! It’s about freaking time. Have they picked a date yet?”

He nodded. “First weekend in June. Sharon’s already picked their wedding colors too; sage green and rose gold. She explicitly said she picked rose gold because she wants to serve that rosé champagne you introduced her to. It’s still her favorite to this day.”

A bittersweet smile made its way onto your face as you thought about what he said. You had brought two bottles of that sparking rosé to a dinner Sharon hosted once, back when she and Steve were still circling around their feelings for each other. Sharon had barely taken her first sip before asking you for details on where you bought it. Ever since, Sharon always had a bottle in her fridge. Her friendship was the one you missed the most after the breakup. There had been a few half-hearted attempts from both of you to reach out, but each time her responses felt forced. Eventually you stopped trying.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful wedding. They deserve it,” you said. A chuckle left your lips as a new thought entered your head. “How on Earth is Steve going to choose between you and Sam for best man?”

Bucky joined in on your laughter, making your stomach do summersault after summersault. “Sam and I were actually wondering the same thing, but apparently they’ve decided to not do a bridal party. That makes things easy for me though. I get to kick back and enjoy the wedding knowing I have no responsibilities.”

The idea of Bucky having a blast at a wedding made you smile. The smile faded slightly as you realized this meant Bucky was now going to need a date for this wedding. Images of him in a fancy suit, twirling another woman around the way he had in the fountain with you flashed before your eyes. You felt your heart breaking all over again at the thought of how it could’ve been you if you hadn’t fucked it all up. How stupid could you have been thinking the two of you could talk things out after all this time. He’s probably already planning on asking that girl from the wine and paint night to go with him. She had appeared on his social media several times since that night and each time it made your chest ache a little more. Bucky’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. You tried smiling but felt yourself falter and knew he noticed it too. “Yeah, just caught up in my thoughts.” You needed to get out of here and fast. Conveniently, your phone screen lit up and you were able to fake gasp at the time. “Oh my god, look how late it is. I really should get going.”

Bucky stared at you, unsure of how to respond to the sudden change in the atmosphere. You stood and rushed to collect your things.

“It was really nice seeing you again Bucky,” you said, offering him a half-smile as you take your first steps away from the table. He nodded, still looking unconvinced.

“It really was. Maybe we could do this again sometime?” He asked, trying his hardest to keep too much optimism from creeping into his voice.

Your eyes went wide with surprise, but you slowly nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

The same awkward silence from before filled the air, only this time neither of you seemed to know how to break it. You offered a small wave and made your way out the door, refusing to turn around and hug him despite how strongly your body was screaming at you to do so.

Bucky stood there staring after you until you were out of sight. A sigh left him after you rounded a corner and he began to collect his things.

                                        ***

Bucky had made his way back to the Avengers compound with relative ease, though his mind was still stuck back at the coffee shop with you. He had nearly choked on his coffee when he saw you walk in and hardly realized what he was doing when he called out to you. His mind had started screaming at him from the second he offered you a seat and apparently had yet to find a good enough reason to stop. Talking to you had been magical. He had forgotten how well the two of you meshed once a conversation was started. Nobody else had ever been able to keep up with his constant jumping between topics, not even Sam and Steve. You never made him feel bad for his quick transitions; you just understood and accepted that was the way his mind worked. Even after all that time, you took it all in stride.

An unexpected slam of a cabinet door caught his attention as he made his way through the communal kitchen. Sam was standing there, unloading dishes from the dishwasher. Bucky greeted the man with a gentle nod of the head as he pulled out one of the barstools to sit.

“That was a long coffee shop visit, you run into a cute girl there?” Sam teased, smirk playing across his face.

“I ran into her.”

Sam’s motions paused as he processed Bucky’s words. He looked up at his friend, who was conveniently not meeting his gaze, unsure of how to respond. “Her as in…?”

Bucky nodded and Sam let out a slow puff of air. “How are you feeling?” Sam asked cautiously.

It took a few minutes for Bucky to find the words. “You know Sammy, I actually don’t know. There are too many contradictory feelings in my head to pinpoint just one.” He finally looked up and met Sam’s eyes.

Sam motioned for him to continue.

“It was so nice to see her again and talk to her. It made me feel like things were back when we were both still head over heels in love with each other. She’s doing so well. She’s made huge progress mentally, she’s been given a promotion at work, she’s just out there living her life. It made me so happy to see...

“But the happier I got sitting there talking to her, the angrier I got with myself for being such an ass while I was with her. Who has a woman like that in their life and chooses to ignore her for work? What kind of jerk does that?” He paused for a moment, staring down at his feet before continuing.

“There was a moment where she looked at me and I looked at her and I just knew we were both wondering where the hell we went so wrong. She looked like she wanted to say something so badly, but decided against it and just...got up and left. I kinda deserved it though-” he let out a dark chuckle, “- it’s what I did to her after all.”

Sam had continued unloading the dishes as Bucky spoke, trying to keep things casual while he got everything off his chest. Once Sam knew Bucky was done, he paused and rested both hands on the counter to give his friend his full attention.

“Yeah, you were an ass who put work first. She was a great girl who loved you unconditionally. You let her down and yourself down too. But she also had her issues that contributed to what happened. It’s not all on you.” Sam shot a reassuring smile at Bucky.

Bucky nodded, knowing Sam was right. He couldn’t help but sigh and put his head in his hands though as more thoughts swirled around in his head. “I can’t help but think about how my actions probably worsened things for her though, you know? She was depressed for a while before I started acting that way, but I certainly didn’t help the situation. And just...I walked out on her. I walked out and didn’t even give her a proper goodbye.”

Sam stood still and nodded along. “You did, but what you’re forgetting is that you also did because it was also the best thing for you at the time. Both of you were unhappy with who the other was becoming at that time. Sometimes breaking up is the best route to take and they don’t always end with a clear-cut goodbye. You guys may have missed out on some closure, but if today went as well as you said it did, maybe you’ve got a different kind of closure coming down the pipe.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked up at his friend. “What do you mean?”

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed softly, “Man, what did your dumb ass do with girls before I came along?” He continued laughing for a moment before resuming, “What I’m getting at is that if today went as well as you think before the awkward ending, what if there’s a possibility of reconciling? Even if it’s not in a romantic sense, you could always try and be friends.”

For a moment, Bucky’s heart surged. Maybe Sam was right, maybe things could be fixed. He knew things were going well before you got up to leave, maybe he could try and make things right.

Then, the memory of how uneasy and uncomfortable you looked at the end of the conversation replayed in his mind. He felt his throat tighten and tears well up in his eyes. You didn’t want him back. He had his chance today and he blew it.

He shook his head slowly and whispered, “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Sammy.”

                                        ***

Sam eventually let the topic drop and Bucky was free to make his way back to his rooms. A familiar meow rang out from across the room and was soon followed by the sound of excited footsteps rushing towards him. Alpine rubbed himself against Bucky’s legs, meowing expectantly. He chuckled and crouched down to rub Alpine’s ears.

“Hey there buddy, did you miss me?”

Alpine meowed, almost as if to say yes. Bucky smiled and picked up the cat before standing up. He made his way to his bedroom and let Alpine jump down onto the bed once they were close enough. His boots were kicked off haphazardly at the foot of the bed before he climbed into bed. Alpine came and curled up under one of his arms, purring slightly as he did. A sigh left him as he mindlessly pet the cat and adjusted his position until he was comfortable.

Bucky’s thoughts turned back to you almost immediately. His heart ached as he began to relive the night he knew he had fallen in love with you. How he wished he could go back in time and experience it all over again.

“So, Stark is holding a fundraiser in about three weeks. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?” Bucky asked.

The smile on your face made his heart flutter. “Of course! What’s the dress code?” you asked. “I’m not sure if I have anything fancy enough to wear to a Stark gala.”

“It’s a 1920s theme. I’m not entirely sure what he means by that though, considering I was barely old enough to remember the first half of the decade.”

A teasing smile broke out across your face as he spoke. “So what you're telling me is the oldest man in the room somehow still isn’t old enough to remember the roaring twenties? Tsk tsk,” Your teasing tone made him laugh and lean over to kiss you.

“I’ll have you know young lady -” he paused to place kisses all over your face “- this is a completely unacceptable thing to say. Don’t you know you should respect your elders?” You continued to giggle as he continued to kiss you.

                                        ***

On the day of the gala, you were whisked away early in the day by Natasha. She claimed the whole day was needed to properly prepare, which left Bucky standing there rolling his eyes. But when you finally stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of the compound, Bucky felt his heart stop. You looked ethereal. The flapper style dress you were wearing fit you perfectly, your hair was elegantly framing your face, and your lips were painted the most perfect shade of red he had ever seen. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you the entire night.

By the end of the night, the champagne finally had gone to your head and you were desperate to leave. You grabbed his hand giggling, rushing as quickly as you could out of the reserved plaza. You stumbled a few times over the uneven cobblestones, so he kept a hand on your waist just in case.

“Bucky, I need to find somewhere to sit down. I need to take off my heels.” you giggled as you spoke, making his heart flutter for the millionth time that night. Without a word, he picked you up bridal style and slowly spun around as he searched for somewhere you could sit.

His eyes landed on a large fountain a short distance away and he began walking towards it. You settled comfortably into his arms, with one hand sneaking under his tux jacket and gripping gently onto his shirt just over his heart. Bucky wondered if you could tell it was about ready to beat out of his chest as he leaned slightly to set you down on the fountain’s edge. He had hardly sat down next to you before your heels were kicked off. It was amazing how much more relaxed you looked just from doing that.

He was so focused on how beautiful you looked he almost didn’t hear you giggle or realize what you were about to do. His jaw dropped slightly as you stood in front of him in the fountain, dress pulled up slightly as you waded in.

Bucky’s eyes never left you as you walked around, letting out the cutest laughs with each stream of water that you walked under. When you arrived back at where he was sitting and his whole world stopped as you bent forward to press your sweet lips against his. Your hands found their way to his hair as his made their way to your hips. With every ounce of his being, he wished his hands could make their home. They belonged there, allowing him to hold you so tightly against him it was almost impossible to tell where his body stopped and yours began.

It startled him when you pulled away suddenly, but the confusion didn’t last long as he was met with a handful of water and mischievous laughter. The splashing was relentless. You refused to stop despite him begging for you to quit it. He rushed to remove his shoes and socks so he could jump into the fountain with you. The excited squeal that left your mouth as you started rushing through the water trying to escape him made him grin. He was going to catch you and you knew it. That didn’t stop you from trying to delay the inevitable though. You tried to hide behind the fountain's centerpiece and to fake which direction you were going to run. When you decided to leave the safety of the centerpiece, he had you back in his arms facing him within seconds.

As he watched your face, the overwhelming urge to confess the extent of his feelings filled his chest. He loved you. He had known for weeks now, but staring at your beautiful face reaffirmed it so deeply in his soul that it felt like an integral part of who he was now. Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but the words failed him. Instead, he leaned forward and he channeled everything he had into a kiss. He wanted this to be the kind of kiss written about in fairytales; one that leaves audiences tearing up over and longing for. He hoped you felt everything he didn’t have the courage to say tonight and the small voice in his head hoped you felt the same.

He felt you smile into the kiss, making his heart swell. He pulled away gently after a moment, staying close enough to press kisses across your face. You had told him once how special you felt when he did it; now he couldn't stop doing it. He needed you to know how special you were to him, how loved you were in his arms. When he was satisfied, he rested his forehead against yours. An idea struck him and he smiled at you, “Would you like to dance?”

You nodded and he began to lead you in a slow dance throughout the fountain. He had never felt more grateful for the dancing experience he gained in his youth and that it was a skill he somehow kept throughout the years of brainwashing and torture. The feeling of your body against his calmed his mind and kept his focus from wandering back to the past. The only thing he wanted to think about right now was how beautiful you were and how lucky he was to have you.

After a few minutes of him leading you aimlessly around the fountain, you pulled away gently and looked up at him with a smile. “We should make a wish.”

His face twisted with confusion. “A wish?”

You smiled as you nodded at him, “You know, toss some coins into the fountain and make a wish as we do.”

Bucky laughed as he thought about how much like a fairytale this night was turning into. Apparently his kiss had done the trick. “I don’t think this is a wishing-well. Although -” he chuckled again, “-I hardly think they meant for anyone to dance around in it either, so why not.”

Reluctantly, he let go of your hand and fished around in his pocket until he found his wallet. He’d never felt more relieved to see pennies in his life as he pulled out the only two coins he had. He pressed one into your hand as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “It looks like we only get one wish each tonight, so we’d better make it a good one.”

He watched as you stared down at the penny, wondering what wish you were going to make. Your face was serious as you thought but broke out into the most beautiful smile. You stood there, coin pressed to your lips, before tossing it out into the fountain. You stared up at him expectantly, waiting for him to make his wish.

He didn’t need to stop and think about his wish. He knew what his wish was from the day he met you. Following your motions, he pressed the penny to his lips and wished, ‘I wish for a life filled with more wonderful nights like this, with this beautiful woman in my arms’. He tossed the coin in and his hand found its way back into yours.

Without a word, he pulled you back in close to him and resumed leading you around the fountain. After a few moments of peaceful silence, he spoke.

“What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” you said, voice teasing as you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “And let me tell you, I really want this wish to come true.”

“Me too honey, me too.”

As the memory faded, Bucky couldn’t help but let the tears that had been building fall. That night had been so wonderful. You deserve someone who could give you nothing but nights like that, not the heartache he put you through. He closed his eyes and whispered to no one but himself, “You could’ve been the one. You should’ve been the one...”

[mimiplaysgames]

Terraqua Week Day 6 (Free Day)

Summary: Terra and Aqua are getting married—and Ven is the Bridezilla. || Word Count: 9,058

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek​ I could have never written this without my dear friend @localcryptideli​. We talked about this wedding years ago, and I promised to write it. It’s here, three years later, blending their headcanons with mine and I couldn’t be more proud of it. <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

the threads that tie hearts together

Terra never once considered in his entire life that his wedding preparations would include the perk of mice squeaking in his ear—but he here is, in the tailor’s studio, getting re-fitted for his tuxedo, with Princess Cinderella’s team of seamstress mice on his shoulders, measuring the length of his arms. His muscles were too big for the previous suit. 

Ven refuses to hire a proper tailor, and instead rents out the parlor so the mice could do their work in private.

Lea sits on a nearby bench by the shoe shelves, the top button of his shirt open, jabbing at his Gummiphone. He’s quite popular today, pinged every two minutes. Isa and Roxas share a mirror, trying to get the mechanics of their bow ties right. 

Terra is getting married. 

The thought. Married. Soon. Yes. Damn. He can’t cry right now.

Terra stands in front of a mirror and bends his elbows to see how the fabric moves. The mice are tiny, three of them in skirts. They’ve developed an efficient obstacle course of threads all down his entire body, a network so the mice on the floor can deliver them supplies—spools, sewing needles, thumbtacks, measuring tape—in a jiffy. 

Lea groans, squeezing his Gummiphone. “This twerp is going to turn me into a serial killer.” He yawns, possibly for the fortieth time.

“Not an ill-fitting job, all things considered,” Isa says from across the room.

“I do appreciate your sarcasm.”

“Who’s bothering you?” Terra asks, lifting his collar so the mouse on his left could thread through it with a sewing needle.

Lea snorts, slaps his knee and leans forward. “Did you not know your buddy is a monster?”

“Ven?”

“Oh, he’s a joy.” Lea holds his Gummiphone up as if he’s about to make a speech. “Come help me pick out Aqua’s flowers. Now. If you could.” He glances at Terra, then back at the phone. “He writes that in all-caps.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be so pushy.”

“The other day, he called me to model the bride’s dress because Miss Aqua couldn’t be bothered to come to the fitting herself.”

“Master Aqua was away on a mission,” Isa explains.

“Isa took photos of me in it—” Lea scrolls through his phone, but stops. “Oh, I can’t show you before...” He clicks his tongue. “It’s very nice. Very bridal.”

Terra is sure that’s true, but the image of Ven hanging his head so much on someone else’s wedding is worrisome. Last night, he fell asleep at dinner. “I think Ven is taking on too much stress.”

“Lea,” Roxas says, snorting a chuckle and giving up on his bow tie, “you should show him the texts.” 

“Gladly.” Lea stands to shove the Gummiphone into Terra’s face. Out of the history, a couple of messages stand out.

Ventus

I got 500 cake flavors come taste them with me

Ventus

Which cologne do you think terra should wear

COME SMELL 

i need a second opinion

Ventus

Do you have aqua’s flowers yet?

remember 

we want orange roses and bluestars

Ventus

Aqua isnt here im freaking out

Youre closest to her body type

HELP

After all that, Terra feels as though he’s being watched by several microscopic eyes. One of the mice squeaks with urgency, and he straightens one of his arms. “I don’t know what to say... Why doesn’t he talk to me directly?”

Lea purses his lips as though this is a secret not worth sharing. Roxas is the one to step forward, a knowing grimace plastered on his face.

“He told me that he doesn’t want to bother you with anything.”

That doesn’t sound entirely false but not true either.

“That’s ridiculous.” Terra tests the bend of the elbow to fiddle with his bow tie. It’s already done but something about it doesn’t sit right. “He could come to me for anything,” he says with a low voice, wondering if there’s something he’s missing. Terra has also been a mess. He’s getting married. Holy stars. 

Isa huffs out of frustration, turning away from the mirror, his bow tie undone. He studies Terra’s suit. “I don’t like it.”

His straightforwardness is well appreciated. Aqua would probably smirk at the sight of it and stare at his neck the entire ceremony. “I don’t either,” Terra says.

“Smart man.” Isa smirks, and tugs Terra’s bow tie to undo it. “Let’s change it.”

Lea snorts. “You might want to ask permission from he-who-shall-be-slapped.”

“It’s my wedding,” Terra says.

“So you think.”

He-who-may-be-slapped enters the tailor’s parlor through the front entrance, announced by the bell of the ring. He’s perfectly dressed in his ringbearer’s/best man’s/maid of honor’s suit, vest fitted, bow tie sublime, sleeves coiffed. He sees what Isa is doing. He gapes.

“Hey guys,” Ven asks with a frustratingly shaky voice. “What are we doing?”

“They are unbecoming,” Isa answers, wrapping a traditional tie around Terra’s neck.

“Oh.” 

Sometimes, speaking to Isa is like getting clocked in the stomach. By the looks of Lea’s expression, chewing on the edge of his Gummiphone, it’s well deserved.

“Okay,” Ven says, with a tight smile. He takes the tie from Isa’s hands. “Do they match?”

“A hello would be less rude,” Terra says. “Hi, Ven. Can we talk?”

Ven glances up. “Later. There’s lots to do.”

Lea inhales sharply. “Hey, Ven. Here’s an idea. Did you know you could tame cicadas to sing in harmony on command?”

Ven whips his head around. “You can?”

Isa brings a hand up to hide a smirk and Lea passes him a subtle wink.

“Picture it.” Lea opens his arms. “From nine until eleven at night, they gather in the bushes. They mutter, a light dusting of atmosphere on a peaceful summer night.”

Ven’s eyes grow wide with obsession. 

Roxas comes near. “You can also make them glow.”

“Like stars in the bushes,” Ven whispers to himself.

“Come on, guys,” Terra says, unimpressed. “Leave him alone. We’ve got better things to do.”

Ven snaps himself out of it, but not before pulling out a notepad and writing notes. He eyes Terra over, nudging him to open his arms and pinching the sides of the suit. Ven draws them in by the measure of a finger and pulls pins out of his pocket, like he’s been expecting to use them, and marks their places. “Jaq Jaq,” he calls, “where’s Suzy? We need to make sure these ties look right. Oh, and we need two extras—we have to ship some to Riku and Sora.”

Some mouse squeaks in reply.

“I can help her carry things.” Ven gives a flash of a smile and then hurries off.

Out of earshot, Lea gives Terra a look. “Anyone able to talk to mice is a crazy person in my book.”

Terra glares back and quotes, “‘You could tame cicadas to sing on command?’”

“He needs something to obsess over. How else am I going to get peace?”

“This is going to bite you in the ass,” Roxas says, wrapping his new tie over the neck and having a much easier time.

“Ventus may very well task you with hunting and gathering the cicadas,” Isa says, a tie already in place, immaculate. 

Lea groans and Terra feels it’s well deserved. 

Well deserved… the suit may be. The future wife, maybe not. The suit is a glove for every finger with no excess. It makes him a good-looking groom, a nice addition to the closet for any special occasion. The bride is beautiful, no matter what she wears. She is loyal, patient, strong, intelligent, loving, funny when she’s stern, too good for him, a divine gift he didn’t earn and he still can’t understand how she said yes.

“I hope you’re laughing at the face of my misery,” Lea says.

Terra knows that’s sarcasm. Weddings are headaches, emotions are terrifying and Terra needs Aqua like a sip of medicinal tea to calm down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The others squeal when they walk into Le Grand Bistro. It’s sunset, the city lights already ignited and giving it the glow of evening fairies welcoming the moon. They’ve just discussed dresses—Xion requests a pantsuit instead, which looks stellar—and they can choose their own styles so long as they all wear the color of night. Simple, elegant. That’s the kind of effect Aqua prefers. Thank goodness they’re almost done. Aqua couldn’t handle more hands in her hair and she rejected the flower crown that would have come down on one side to compensate for the lack of length. 

She fiddles with the ring—a thin, intricate design weaved around a small, blue stone—as a waiter escorts them to the kitchen. On days when she doesn’t have missions, she wears it.

Aqua is getting married. Some part of her wonders about the surreality of it, like it’s a dream or a picture she created in her mind when she was a child, at the altar with a faceless person next to her. Sometimes, it feels like she is already married. Terra has always been with her. Every day in class. Every day strolling through the woods. Every day sparring, sharing meals, bickering and laughing. Her best friend, her confidant, her rock.

There is something about nearly dying that challenges perspective. When they both thought they’d never see each other again, it made them realize there’s more to it and there’s been more to it for years. The emotional intimacy that strengthened after the fact. The physicality of it, when he takes her to bed. They argue differently, they laugh the same. Terra has always been with her, so what is the difference between being with him and being married to him? A part of her is eager to find out. The other is already at peace, a kind of joy Aqua has always wanted.

Ven is in the kitchen, talking with Remy (responding to Remy, who is naturally unintelligible). Plates of cake pieces sprawl out on the table, eliciting oohs and aahs from the others, all patient like they’re waiting for Aqua’s permission to take a small bite.

Aqua reads through the description of flavors—strawberry, fudge, angel food cake with blueberries, red velvet, even coffee. “The one we requested isn’t here.”

“You mean…” Ven pulls out his notepad and looks through his notes. Remy climbs onto Ven’s head, squeaking and pointing to a bowl of flour and eggs, unmixed. “Dark chocolate and rum?”

“That would be correct.”

“A spicy cake? Are you insane?” At his shock and at Aqua’s denial, Kairi helps herself to a spoonful of vanilla. “This is a wedding, not a club!”

“My wedding, Ven.” Aqua isn’t annoyed, but amused. Ven has such strong opinions about for some reason. 

“Try this one.” He holds up a plate of a decorated piece that honestly looks delicious. “Triple chocolate, with the rarest berries found in the woods, matured at thirty-five degrees Celsius for a week.” 

“Burnt cake?” Kairi asks with a smirk.

“Not the cake, the berries.” 

“Oh,” Xion gasps, with need in her eyes. It takes a nod from Aqua to grab a fork and have at it. She approaches each piece with so much excitement— Aqua wonders if there are flavors here she’s never tried before in her short life. 

“What will the final cake look like?” Naminé asks, the only one not to dive forward. She’s so gentle, so serene. When they were trying out dresses, everyone was saying what a beautiful bride she’ll be one day if she chooses. 

“Perfect,” Ven says, like it’s the most obvious thing. “It has to be perfect so it will look beautiful. Painted like a night sky, with stars everywhere. You got that, Remy?”

Remy glares at Ven.

“I want,” Aqua starts, and when Ven frowns, she smirks. Sometimes, for the sake of maintaining control, she has to play dirty. “Rosewater and cardamom.” 

Ven sticks his tongue out in disgust.

“Terra needs something to enjoy,” Aqua insists. “These are all too sweet for him.”

“Terra is the bane of my existence.”

“By the way, I don’t know if I want King Mickey and Queen Minnie to officiate.”

“You are way more difficult to deal with.”

Aqua and Ven have a staring contest as the others talk about their favorite flavors. Ven, a glare, a challenge to outwit her. Aqua, a calm knowing that she’s going to win. Ven relents.

“Fine,” he stresses. “Remy, change of plans. We’ll need some damage control. Let’s add some”—he writes into his notepad—“fruit pastries, sweet cheese with chocolate—”

“Triple chocolate,” Kairi adds.

“Custard and kiwi,” Xion says.

“All good choices.” Ven writes them down.

“Sea salt ice cream?” Naminé says, lifting a shoulder. “Everyone else eats them, I hope to try some.”

“Ven.” Kairi slams a hand on the table. “You need to add marshmallows covered in hazelnut and chocolate.”

“We need all the chocolate,” Ven agrees. “Call it revenge on this nasty cake.”

Kairi cackles, but it’s nothing malicious. They’re young and excited about the wedding, their suggestions a way of helping. Aqua takes it all in stride. The small details don’t matter, only the intent, and letting friends have fun deciding makes the entire process easier. What’s bothering her is Ven. He’s exhausted from taking it all too seriously. Aqua assumes the best intentions, but she doesn’t get it.

“You know what would be really cute?” Xion says. “Little petit fours shaped in your symbols.”

Ven blinks. “What symbols?”

“Oh, the Keyblade Master symbols.” Naminé claps her hands. “That would be so lovely.”

“In different colors,” Xion says.

“Each a different flavor,” Naminé adds. “Maybe the same colors as your Wayfinders?”

“You two are geniuses.” Ven taps his notepad. “Remy, we gotta get to work.”

Remy stomps a paw and squeaks vigorously.

“No worries. You’ll get paid.” Though it seems that’s the last thing on Remy’s mind.

“Ven,” Aqua says softly, pulling him aside as the others brainstorm ideas. “I don’t think we can afford all this.”

“Sure you can,” he says too confidently, though she and Terra were the ones to save up their munny. “Don’t worry,” he stresses when she’s not convinced, giving her a squeeze on the arm. “You asked me to bookkeep your finances” 

“Reminder that I did not ask you to take full responsibility. Remy can’t do all of this alone, he’s going to need you.”

“I’ve got plenty of time, and we’ve got plenty of budget.”

Aqua does not know how that is possible. After the dresses, the refitting of Terra’s tux, the decorations… sure, since they’re using the ballroom in the Land of Departure, they saved on not having to rent out a venue, but the original plan was to have a small, intimate wedding in the woods, something private with just the three of them, minimal decorations necessary, all plucked from nature. 

All of this is out of their price range.

Ven goes back to the table, back to the stovetop and oven where he follows Remy’s instructions and mixes the flour in the bowl with some milk. He doesn’t assuage her at all, like he knows something she doesn’t.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Home should be a solace but not when it’s the wedding rehearsal. 

Ven has ushered in movers from different worlds to carry in artifacts, all decorations, all star-themed. Terra has yet to see the ballroom, but the amount of people rushing through the hallways makes him nervous. 

Ever since Terra called Riku in the dead of night (in a panic, needing someone to talk to, alone in the kitchen with a cracked mug of tea), blabbing about tripping on the way to the altar, or cutting the cake clean through the table, or stepping on linen and ripping the curtains, or dropping his plate of food, or looking like an idiot on the dance floor, or worse—forgetting his vows—he hasn’t lived a moment of peace. Sora won’t let him. 

Terra finds it hard to breathe. What if he chokes on his vows and accidentally offends everyone?

He stays far away from the workers—it’s for the best. No one needs a huge bull stampeding in a china shop, destroying everything.

Lea crosses the hallway on his sixth trip and enters one of two entrances to the ballroom, vases of flowers in his hands. Terra peeks. From the looks of it, Ven did a fantastic job. 

The ballroom, once gold, now looks like the set of night. The ceiling is covered in blue with twinkling lights. The table linens are also dark, with napkins and silverware sets a solid gold. Glass windows that take up one entire side to the ballroom are bare of curtains—the wedding is planned for after sunset so they’d be declaring their vows under the stars. Two navy blue carpets come in through both entrances of the ballroom, meeting in the middle and then straight to the altar at the far end. The point is for him and Aqua to enter together, like equals. With her in a bridal dress, she’ll look like a light in the darkness.

Through the doorway, Terra can see Riku and Sora, the latter making motions with his arms as if he’s flapping like a bird. Terra lets the door close so they don’t notice him. 

There are fears he’s never voiced.

What if she realizes she doesn’t want to get married to him after all? At the altar no less?

Oh stars, what if he makes a terrible husband? 

What if he neglects her?

What if, years down the road, she realizes after a slowly oncoming epiphany that she isn’t happy and regrets it?

Tonight is the party, tomorrow is the wedding, and Terra still has no vows. He pinches his nose hard enough to distract him from crying. He’s already cried five times in the arc of three hours.

Footsteps—light, brisque, confident, hers—approach him, and Terra embraces her in his arms, taking her in with a needy kiss. She smells like home, she lets him breathe again. 

“You look like you’re about to fall apart,” she says, stroking a thumb on his cheek.

“Not if you’re my glue.”

She snorts, smacking him on the bicep. “What did I say about the puns?”

“Shower you with them.”

He kisses her before she can roll her eyes—

—and gets interrupted the moment Ven peeks out of one door. 

“What’s with the hold-up?” he says.

Terra breaks from the kiss, casually noticing how Aqua is patting his shoulder, as if to warn him. “What’s with your attitude?”

Ven pouts like he’s about to choke and slaps the notepad to his forehead. “No one listens to me. I said baby blue and champagne on the napkins, all shaped to form the constellation of Juno… and they gave me yellow. I am gonna complain so much.”

“There are worse things?” Terra says and Aqua shakes his shoulder as another warning. 

Ven snaps his eyes open. “Get into position, we’re starting.”

Aqua stands behind one door and Terra goes to the other, waiting for the cue to enter. On the other side, Ven is speaking out loud, organizing people and where they should stand. Grooms and bridesmaids will enter the altar from behind and gather together, leaving the carpet only for the star couple (no pun intended). He interrupts himself, raising his voice about vases that match too much and Terra can imagine him pointing across the room.

“I have to tell you something,” Aqua loudly whispers from the other side of the hall. 

Terra runs to her and wraps an arm around her waist. Touching her is a panacea. Despite knowing there is still a possibility she’ll rethink this entire relationship, it seems unreal, like a nightmare.

“It’s about Ven,” she continues, keeping her voice low even though they’re the only ones in the hall.

“Lea threatened to slap him.”

She frowns.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Don’t you think it’s too expensive?”

“I don’t know. Ven doesn’t tell me how much anything costs.”

“It’s way more than we have saved up.”

Terra gapes. “Then how—?”

Aqua stammers, fiddling with her fingers. “I looked into his books.”

Terra melts into a breath-heavy laugh, careful to keep his voice out of it. “Reading people’s diaries? Aqua, I thought I knew you better.”

She blushes. “I didn’t mean to, but I was worried.” Now Terra is worried. Her expression is too serious. “Ven has been doing side-missions and hustles for months just to earn enough to hire the best chefs and tailors, to buy linens and all these flowers and carpets—” 

“He wouldn’t.”

“He did.”

“Why?” 

“I think it’s because he wants us to be happy.”

“We are.” Terra doesn’t appreciate how he doesn’t sound confident, scared he’s assuming too much on her behalf. “How could he just…”

“We were stuck in darkness for so long and he couldn’t help us.”

“But that’s not his fault.”

“He feels he is the weakest and wants to compensate.” Aqua grimaces and she blinks back tears. 

“I feel so guilty.”

“I feel worse.”

“Why?”

Aqua bites her lip. “I’m still attached to the idea of a small, intimate ceremony in the woods. Just the three of us. Does that make me a horrible person?”

“No. Our wedding has become a spectacle. Maybe pointing that out makes me terrible, too.”

She groans. “I found a book. I left it in your room. It’s very last minute, but there are some ancient rituals in there that I found so beautiful… the exchanging of rings is beautiful, too, but modern and there are some lost traditions from our Keyblade history that I’d love to do instead... if you could take a look?” 

The way she smiles, stars. Ancient, modern, he’d do anything for her. “Sure. I’ll read it tonight.”

Aqua winces. “He’ll be so angry with us.”

Terra squeezes her hand. “He wants us to be happy. Think about that.”

One of the doors burst open, and Lea sticks his head out. “Kindly stop being an ass and don’t keep your guests waiting anymore?”

They start: Terra at one entrance, Aqua on the other, entering the ballroom at the same time, where guests will watch them approach one another, like the shadow of the moon to a star. They meet at the point where their lanes merge into one. 

Terra offers his arm—

“Nonono,” Ven warns, running up to them. “You can’t meet her like this. You must bow at a forty-degree angle.” Ven scans the room frantically. “Here, I have a ruler.”

After that hiccup, Aqua finally takes Terra’s arm, walking down the single aisle, where guests can ogle at them. Their groomsmen and bridesmaids take pictures with their Gummiphones for their arrival at a wall of flowers. 

Sora has his hands behind his head and snickers when they reach the end. “I made sure the carpet is ironed out so she doesn’t fall with you.”

“I’m going to kick you in the shins,” Terra says.

He snorts and wipes his nose. “I’ll kick you back.”

At the altar, Ven is too excited to stop rambling. “We have to make sure that you arrive here, at this spot, at exactly nine-thirty so we can finish the vows at ten because...” He frames the windows with his hands. “We’ve got a perfect spot for star sighting so we need to be on time.”

“Do you mean, right after the wedding ceremony?” Aqua asks. 

“Before the reception, yup. We’re walking out to the balcony, we’ll watch the meteor shower where a new world will be born, then we’ll come back in for supper and dancing.” When he notices their stupefied faces, he continues, “I spent three weeks finding the right angulations so you can witness a unique astronomical event, and we’ve got a miracle of a spot right here so we can’t be late.”

“It’s a wonderful thought, Ven,” Aqua says, her voice shaky.

“Okay, now you get into position and face each other.” He points and they follow. “Next, Mickey and Minnie will talk some stuff, you know, all official, and then you say your vows.”

Terra freezes up. “Our vows.”

“Yeah. That’s what I said. You ready?”

Terra hesitates and Aqua speaks for him. “We’re keeping those a secret until tomorrow.”

Ven pauses, then shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Aqua doesn’t let Terra have another thought, leaning forward to kiss him in front of everyone (aahs and awws elicited), and ending the rehearsal.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“How do you get your skin so clear?” Kairi asks, though the warm glow of the fire makes for spectacular lighting. 

They’re camping in the woods near the waterfall, equipped with warm blankets and pillows, a bowl of cookies, and toasted marshmallows on sticks; Aqua’s vision of a bachelorette party. No gifts necessary.

“Mountain spring water does wonders for you,” Aqua says.

“I’ve read in a magazine,” Xion says, crawling out of her sleeping bag, “that some people like to put mud on their faces to get clean skin.”

“Why?” Naminé asks, chewing on a marshmallow.

“Something about the properties. Lots of good minerals.” She walks over to the creek, digging her hands into the dirt and smashing it into her face against the shocks and cries of the other girls. “If mountain water is good for you, then that must mean this mud is magical.” 

“Is that true?” Kairi says, though she’s asking no one. She hurries over and joins in on the mud-mashing, running fingers over Xion’s face in places she’s missed.

With globs of mud in their hands, they bring over the excess to the camp. 

Xion offers it to Aqua. “For beautiful skin on your special day?”

“It’s our job to pamper,” Kairi says with her hands out so that Naminé can scoop up the mud on her own. 

Aqua tries not to chuckle too loudly. It’s adorable. “Okay,” she says, and Xion gets to work, massaging it into her skin. It smells unpleasant, earthy and mukky. She closes her eyes and tries to relax regardless.

“I think we’re supposed to keep it on our faces for at least a half hour,” Xion says, rubbing more on Aqua’s nose. 

“This will make us prettier?” Naminé asks.

“Cleaner,” Kairi says. 

Naminé blinks, already covered in the mud and hesitating to put on more. “But we look dirty,” she says quietly.

“Can I request something, Miss Aqua?” Xion says, patting her fingers onto Aqua’s forehead.

“Certainly.”

“Can you tell us the story of how Terra proposed?”

Kairi jumps and squeals, and Naminé claps her hands, both of them chattering please, please, we’re dying to know.

“We’re around a fire,” Kairi says, as if that’s a convincing argument. “We’re supposed to tell stories.” 

“I feel bad for asking,” Naminé says. “You’re very private, and I don’t want to intrude…”

Aqua reads her face. “But you’re curious.”

Naminé pouts. Xion’s eyes go wide, and Kairi nods excitedly. Everyone is guilty as charged.

“It’s a simple story, I guess,” Aqua says, crossing her legs and watching the fire. It’s not often that she talks so openly about the details of her relationship. The two of them together is something people know, but never knowing where they come from and why, except for Ven—even then, there’s so much he never pries to. Watching their reactions is a little overwhelming. She rubs the stone on her ring. “Terra made the engagement ring with his own hands, but he took months to propose.”

“I remember that,” Xion says, sitting on her chair and smiling. “It annoyed Lea so much that he offered to set you both up just to get it over with.”

Aqua laughs. “I’m grateful we had it to ourselves.”

“Was it romantic?” Kairi asks.

“Not at all. I… knew he was up to something. I know him.” She lifts a shoulder. “He was burning breakfast too often, he couldn’t look me directly in the eye, and he left on his own to do more missions than usual. I took that as though he had done something wrong. The last time he was that clumsy and avoidant, it was because he accidentally cast Firaga in the library and was trying to hide it. Or when he broke the oven. Or when he offered to do my laundry but didn’t know how to treat my fabric and ruined my clothes.”

“He sounds like a clumsy oaf,” Kairi says.

That makes Aqua smile. She loves that oaf. “He is. The general rule of thumb is that a clumsy, avoidant Terra is usually hiding something.”

“So how did the proposal happen?” Naminé asks.

“I cornered him—”

Kairi snorts.

“—and he blurted it out.”

They giggle, Kairi acting out how that may have looked and Naminé holding her hands over her heart in a show of genuine affection. 

Aqua smiles to herself, a finger to her lips. It might be her favorite memory, her standing her ground and demanding to know what was going on. 

Terra, looking all around the terrace except for her face, guilty, guilty, guilty, pulling a box out of his pocket and stammering for a cohesive sentence. Well, I don’t know what to say, he had said, like a child getting grounded. I-I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I’m a big lump of a human being. He paused, his cheeks rounding up like he was about to vomit. Will…will you marry me, anyway?

It felt like racing in a train and pulling all the stops, crashing. He got red in the face, tears welling in his eyes and she realized he took her silence as rejection. Aqua had to hold his forearms, and all she could utter was a soft, I genuinely thought you burned down a building.

Terra’s eyes went wide. Do you mean you’re not mad?

Of course not. Why would I be?

So… He licked his lips, reaching for her but not touching her, forgetting that he had the box with the ring inside. What do you say? I mean, you don’t have to give me an answer straight away. I mean, I just thought you would… you know… because… He sighed. Yeah.

Aqua finally laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. Of course I will marry you, you beautiful dork.

The laughter quiets around the fire. They’re waiting for Aqua to continue her story.

“Then he drops the ring.”

They howl, melting into a blissful exchange of cheers and gossip, a vibrant hearth brighter than the one keeping them warm. 

“I had hoped to propose first, actually,” Aqua continues. She shrugs. “The end.”

“That was beautiful,” Naminé says, wiping her eyes.

“If Sora hears about this, he’ll never leave Terra alone,” Kairi says, grinning something mischievous. 

“I don’t know what love is supposed to look like,” Xion says thoughtfully, gazing at the sky. “But it sounds sweet.”

In Aqua’s opinion, the proposal was perfect, him scattered on the ground frantically searching for the ring, her on her knees helping him. How he slipped it on her finger, how they kissed for an hour in the dirt, unaware that they were dusty, unaware that anyone else existed in the world. 

Aqua nods, mostly to herself. It aches to be away from Terra tonight but it burns her insides to see him tomorrow and finally do this. Aqua wants to sleep and get this night over with but she doesn’t want to sleep so she could see the sunrise, knowing he’d be up early watching the same thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bachelor parties aren’t fun.

Sora is whooping about a cannonball, the water splashing when he makes contact. Ven and Roxas race to the lake, testing who will be the first to dive, the first to swim across and come back. Considering the expanse of the surface area, they’ll be gone for a while and the barbecue will get cold, but maybe it’s for the best. It’s not the right time to talk to Ven right now, not when all of them have a moment of fun (except for Terra, the only one here thinking about tomorrow). Lea and Isa prefer to relax, sipping drinks on their chairs by the lanterns erected onto the sand, speaking quietly about memories, about chores, about home and what ifs. 

Terra sits by himself, the thin booklet Aqua gave him on his lap, tucked under layers of parchment. It’s titled The Way, no author. She was right: old Keyblade rituals are interesting, almost possessive, their focus on the literal binding of hearts. They’re from the Age of Fairytales, and Terra realizes as he reads through it that ancient Keyblade wielders were for some reason obsessed with the loss of memory and the prevention of it. The rituals sound painful, too—maybe Aqua has developed a mild taste of macabre from her time in the Realm of Darkness. 

All Terra has left to do are his vows. His stupid, dorky-sounding vows. He should have accepted the simple, “I do.” He shouldn’t have waited until the last minute.

He’s tried dramatic.

You are my other half, my heart, my breath of life, my sky, my angel, can we keep our souls together? 

He’s tried poetic.

The mountain will thirst if not for the water— 

He’s tried being honest.

I don’t know why you love me, but I’ll do my best to make it up to you.

All dumb.

Terra groans into his hands, eyes wide in existential blunder. 

“Keep doing that,” Riku says, setting a chair next to him and sitting down, “and you won’t be able to blink again.”

“I’m not finished.”

“But if you don’t sleep, then you’re more likely to have accidents.”

Terra gapes and almost whacks Riku on the side of the head from the sight of his constricted smirk. “You’re so mean. I called you one time.”

“In a huge panic talking about causing mass destruction of a wedding the worlds have never seen.” Riku shrugs nonchalantly. That’s his state of being—too cool for anything, too sensitive for everything. It’s refreshing. “It was the funniest phone conversation I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll never call you again.”

“Not in the middle of the night, please no.” Riku bites a forkful of steak. “Is it cliché to tell you to speak from the heart?”

“This entire conversation is cliché, but here I am, living it out.” Terra stares at his messy pages, where he pressed the pen so hard that it left ink blots.

“You could do the very committal thing and tell her you love her fifty times.”

“All the guests would leave by the time I reach twenty-five.”

“More like fifteen.”

“Ten.”

“Disaster.”

Terra grimaces, not entirely comforted, but not entirely anxious anymore, either. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“It is a big deal, I’ll give you that,” Riku says, more serious. “I don’t have any advice.”

“None of it makes sense. Be honest, but not too honest. Be loving, but don’t make it cheesy. Express yourself, but hold back on certain things. Do make it personal. Don’t expose personal details. How am I supposed to know how to do it right?” 

It would be easier if there are no witnesses. If it’s just Ven, if Aqua is the only person he’s talking to, if he could simply say, You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember. I know I’ve fucked up. For as long as I live, I’ll never do that again. I will never take your forgiveness for granted.

And if she doesn’t want to be with him anymore, there’d be nothing he could say to make her stay.

“I think if Aqua was the kind of person who expected you to do it right,” Riku says, looking out to the lake where Ven and Roxas are swimming back to their shore, “you wouldn’t be marrying her.”

Terra bends the pages, exposing the cover of the thin, leather bound booklet. There are no vows he could use in there, except for the officiator declaring their hearts intertwined. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Sorry I can’t be of more help.” 

Riku pats him on the shoulder and leaves him alone to take a walk, Sora begging him to enter the water. Terra flips to a page where he’s repeated I love you, I love you all over, each in different calligraphy, like doodling, like losing his mind and procrastinating the night away, hoping that any moment, inspiration would drop bricks on him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s time.

The strangest part of the day is waiting it out in her bedroom until it’s her turn to show herself. Over the years, her bedroom has been a reflection of her personality. The cleanliness, the artifacts from her home world long ago, the size of the bed, the furniture—they all stayed the same. What’s come and gone were the paint colors, the bedsheets, the art on the wall, the smaller vanity mirror. Her bedroom is her old life, and she sits in front of the mirror in her bride’s dress, about to start a new one. For now, they both collide, as though her childhood doesn’t know her.

The cape dress is simple, plain white with the neck scooped across the collarbone. The sleeves slit at the shoulders, draping over to the floor with the rest of the train. Aqua couldn’t have asked for something better. She completes the look with the ring, a jeweled hair pin on one side, and an armored choker. Makeup is minimal. 

Aqua is surprisingly calm and the sun is going down. 

Her Gummiphone buzzes with a text message.

Terra

Let’s do it

Aqua sighs, not texting back immediately.

Aqua

I don’t want to break Ven’s heart

Terra

I’ll talk to him

We can both get what we want

I already stole some flowers from the wall

Don’t think he notices

She chuckles, moving a hair strand behind her ear. She hasn’t noticed that her stomach has been a knot, from excitement, from nerves, from anticipation. The sun takes so long to set. Terra is the warmth of a tight blanket.

Aqua

Will this label me as a runaway bride?

Terra takes a long time to answer, giving her the impression that he must have been distracted and forgot to reply. 

It buzzes.

Terra

The shame

Aqua

What will they think when they find out the groom seduced her to it

Terra

The scandal 

when they hear how she met him secretly at the creek 

an hour before the ceremony

It sounds like an action plan. Aqua picks up her bouquet of orange roses and bluestars from her vanity table, heading out the door.

Aqua

I want Ven there

Terra

Definitely

I love you

Aqua

I love you too

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Terra finds Ven in the dining room, taking inventory of an indulgement of sweets and a feast of meats, fritters, and rice. The wedding cake is as tall as his body, a dark blue with smacks of gold glitter in the shapes of galaxies, large stars framing each layer, and topped with two halos. Ven is mostly dressed in his vest and tie, the suit missing. By comparison, Terra is overdressed, a groom ready for his encore.

Ven sighs when he sneaks a cookie the shape of the Keyblade Master symbol into his mouth, as though Terra’s presence reminds him of disappointment. 

“I couldn’t tame the cicadas,” he says morosely, like he’s apologizing, and for a moment Terra second-guesses what he’s about to do. Ven eyes the white rope curled around Terra’s shoulder. “What’s that for?”

“This may either cheer you up or piss you off,” Terra says, dropping The Way on the counter.

“I don’t like how you said that.” As Ven flips through pages, he frowns, chewing on the side of his lip. “Are you... not happy with the wedding preparations?”

Terra inhales, caught off guard. “Of course I am. Happy, I mean. It’s… huge. It’s a giant ordeal.”

“And you don’t like that,” Ven says quietly, stroking one of the pages with his thumb.

“I think there are things we’ve always wanted to have privately.” Terra sits on a stool, but Ven won’t look him in the eye. “And we want you to be there. We can do it now. We’ll be back in time for our guests.”

The booklet shakes in his hands. “I messed up.”

“From my point of view, I’ll be eating very well tonight. There’s nothing to compensate for.”

Ven closes the book. “I just wanted to do a good job.”

“If you allow Lea to slap you, he’ll forgive you.” Terra smiles, but Ven doesn’t join him. “We’re still doing your grand ceremony—that, we could never pull off on our own. But we also want something tiny and ours, and we won’t do this without you.” Terra takes Ven’s hand and squeezes it, before glancing at the cake. “I hope it’s delicious.”

“It’s disgusting so you’ll definitely like it.”

“See, I can always count on you.” Terra stands up. “Now come on. You wouldn’t want us to be late for the bride.”

Terra takes him to the creek, not far from where Aqua hosted her bachelorette camp, where the sound of rushing water is gentle and the creek splits into two directions, one that would drip off the side of a cliff and one that would join a massive river downstream. The trees huddle close in the clearing, a soft shadow from the fierceness of the setting sun, like a pocket of protective magic in the middle of the forest. 

Ven gasps. “You stole my flowers.”

“Please, you didn’t even notice.” Terra had built an easy wooden arbor before the crack of dawn that morning, an arch weaved with orange and blue flowers, spotted every so often with green lilies. He showered right after so no one would suspect.

“Let’s take it over there.” Ven points to a short boulder against a tree nearby, a good photo op. They pluck the arbor up from both sides and plant it in front of the boulder. Ven takes stock of the sight. “Not bad.”

“Thanks!”

“I take credit for the choice of flowers.” Ven rolls the rope into a tight circle, layering it on the boulder with each loop in equal circumference. He splays the book open and studies. “It’s kinda creepy,” he says though he gets no response and he doesn’t ask for one.

Terra shoves his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo and waits. Aqua isn’t here yet. The vest constricts his breathing, the thicket suddenly feels humid, and Terra wipes his cheek, realizing that his heart is beating fast. Time sped up to this moment and dropped him here without warning. Now it’s slowing down out of pure, unjustifiable spite to torture him in the final hour. 

“You okay, dude?” Ven asks.

Terra lifts his face to the sky to keep the tears in his eyes. “If I cry now, I think I’ll cry for the rest of the night.”

Ven snorts. “No one would be surprised, trust me.”

But it’s not working. He’s two seconds from sobbing. “I don’t know. I…” He scoffs. “I can’t believe it’s happening. I’m expecting her to never show up or brush me off last minute when she realizes what we’re doing—”

“No.” Ven approaches Terra like he’s about to punch him in the stomach to make a point. “Don’t think like that, she’d never do that.” 

Ven has good faith and better timing. Aqua approaches the other side of the clearing, the fabric of her dress gracefully making waves with every step, the foliage fluttering light and shadow on her figure. She holds her bouquet in one hand and a framed photograph tucked under the other.

It shocks Terra.

He can’t stop the flow of tears. He covers his shivering lips and the drip of his nose, his face twisting from the sight of her—brilliant, like she’s made of stars, a gift walking the earth.

“Terra, are you okay?” Aqua asks, rushing to him now, the train of her dress bouncing behind her. 

In the flash of an instinct, Terra runs to meet her, tripping over a branch and landing right into her arms. 

“You’re—” Terra sucks air in, his heart shoving itself up his esophagus. “Y-you’re s-so beautiful.”

Aqua uses her pinky to wipe his tears. “So are you.”

“Let me help you.” He takes the frame—a portrait of the Master, bordered with a white ribbon—and walks her to the arbor. Ven takes the portrait and places it on the boulder, their little family tied together, fractured in glued pieces, now and always. Before they start, Terra asks Aqua to pose under the arbor so he can take a picture of the trees and the flowers surrounding her. Beautiful.

“How do we do this?” Terra asks when he finds his voice again, still trembling. Aqua stands to the side to take her place. She’s beautiful.

Ven takes the book in his hands. The description of this ritual covers at most two pages. “Well, it’s archaic. It’s from the Age of Fairytales but it sounds like we will intertwine your hearts—but in an intense way, like we’re sewing them together.”

Aqua holds her bouquet to her chest. “Shall we start?”

Terra chuckles too hard, gasping for breath. “Simple as that.”

They wait for Ven’s cue, who also has no idea how to do anything. Ven clears his throat, shrugs his shoulders, and reads:

“We witness today the soldering of two hearts. To intertwine like the roots of a tree, the severance painful, the nourishment plentiful. A physical bond, a magical one, the merging of two sprites under the guidance of one truth. Two hearts, but one.” Terra watches the way Aqua watches him. There’s no one else in the world, Ven’s voice disconnected, like it floats on air. “Now it says to summon your Keyblades. Dig the tips into the ground, and offer your hilts to each other.”

Ends of the Earth is massive, taller than Ven. Stormfall looks delicate but it’s menacing, sharp, direct. They offer their hilts, the shafts crossed over each other, Stormfall light and airy in his hand, Ends of the Earth weighty and thick in hers. 

Terra finds it interesting that they’re using the hilt to connect each other’s hearts—the Keyblade should never be used against a person’s heart in traditional Mastery, because it’s such a dangerous weapon and it’s so violating. The blunt hilt, on the other hand, the physical manifestation of their hearts, is like exposure, an offer of vulnerability. 

Aqua’s feels like it’s thrumming, singing. She’s happy.

Ven steps forward with the rope and ties it over the hilts in loops. “This is just an image, the ties that bind, two Keyblades, but one. To intertwine a heart is to forge a chain, a friend, a companion, a memory. If missing then a void, a dream, a wish until reunion.” He steps back into position. “Before we go on, I think this would be a nice place to say your vows. Terra, you first.”

Terra stammers, looking into her eyes. “I-I couldn’t write one. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Ven whispers, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. “I wrote some just in case.”

Terra doesn’t take it. He licks his lips. “It wouldn’t have been graceful. None of it—all of my thoughts—pale in comparison to you, Aqua.” He steadies himself with labored breathing, the squeeze on her Keyblade like a hold on her waist. “You’re so, so beautiful, and I’ve spent my days believing I don’t deserve you, because… because I couldn’t make things right like I should have.” 

Aqua quivers, gently touching his arm with her free hand and motioning for him to breathe. 

He continues, “I’m sorry. I wish the Master was here. I wish I was smart enough to prevent it from happening.” He inhales, choking up from the mention of Eraqus. “I never thought you would marry me of all people, so… I promise... I will be there every step of the way. I promise you, if you’re scared at night, I’ll be there to protect you. If you’re hurting in another world, I’ll come find you. If you’re confused, I’ll hold you close and help you make sense of it. I’ll brew you tea to help you sleep, I’ll step in the line of fire even if you wish to do the same for me, I’ll walk to the ends of the earth to make sure you are safe and healthy. I promise I’ll be with you.

“And I’ll mess up. I know me. I’ll fix it. If you want to clobber me, I’ll be patient. I’ll learn. I’ll do better. Every day you save me from myself. This is the least I can do. I’ve loved you since I was a kid. I’ll love you every day.”

Silence falls on all of them, Terra sniffing just to get some fresh air, Ven wiping his eyes, Aqua blinking too much. 

“Now you, Aqua,” Ven says. 

Despite being teared up, Aqua holds it together. She’s so good at that.

“Terra, I stand with you because I do want to be here. I do want to be by your side. I do want to laugh at your bad jokes.” She relieves a giggle. “I love you. I have for as long as I can remember, even if I didn’t know the words for it.” She studies his face. “I’m sure the Master is here with us, and he couldn’t be prouder of you. I’m proud of you.” Suddenly, she switches her tone, as if to lecture. “And if you even fathom taking a hit for me, remember that I’m faster than you. I’ll protect you first.” Then she softens. “I promise to be your shelter when the storm falls on us. I promise to sit on your bedside when you’re sick, to lift you up when you’re down about yourself, because you are sometimes. 

“You are my home, no matter how far your heart is from me. If you need a star to light your way back, I’ll give it to you.” She smiles widely, like she’s about to laugh. “If something between us breaks, I’ll mend it with you. I can’t imagine my life any other way.”

Their words are now spoken. Aqua suppresses a laugh and grins like a child. Terra holds his breath, just in case he screams from every emotion that he can’t name.  

“Well,” Ven says, rolling his sleeve up so he could wipe his nose on his forearm. “I guess it’s time. This bond is an oath you will remember each other until you close your eyes for the last time, for the tragedy to forget is to be alone forever. Do you accept this?”

“I do,” Terra says.

Aqua hums. “Yes, I do.”

Ven smiles. “You know what to do.”

With his free hand, Terra presses two fingers to his chest, over his heart, where he builds a golden glow. Twenty years living with her, ten years in darkness thinking about her, this vow is impossible to break—even if they can’t do this any longer, Terra could never forget her. Never. In his hand is now a piece of himself, a nugget of his heart, a memory of her in his bed that he never wants to lose.

He takes those fingers to her chest, two thick golden threads drawn out from his heart. She winces at the touch, quick to dissolve. Stormfall shifts in his hand, growing longer, its hilt thicker and darker, wrapping around like a weaved shield. A subtle change, a little piece of him.

Aqua does the same, fingers to her chest first to create the threads, bringing them to his chest. It does hurt, like a needle digging into his skin, sharp for the entire length until it’s suddenly gone. 

He feels full, as though his insides are creating space for something extra. Warm, frightening, whole, exciting. Her piece is a memory he can’t read but he doesn’t need to. Ends of the Earth opens way for an icy blade to cut through the middle as the hilt fans out like wings. A piece of her to take with him where he goes.

“Alright,” Ven chirps, snapping the booklet closed. “The book ends with the quote, Two hearts, only one, but I think this means I can call you husband and wife in secret. So kiss.”

Their Keyblades dissipate when they hold each other, tender but with appetite, unaware of their surroundings for several selfish moments. With sewn threads, it’s as though he breathes through her. Terra presses her onto him, feeling how her heart now beats in sync with his.

“I love you,” she whispers. They are married. 

He’ll never tire of hearing it. Stars, they are married. “I love you, too.”

Terra hears Ven sniff before a handkerchief is shoved into his face. “You need your face dry and clean before everyone sees you,” Ven says. 

The sunset now is deep, a fiery orange. Terra doesn’t want to let go.

“I’ll hold you again tonight,” Aqua says, patting his chest. “I want to see the meteor shower Ven promised.”

“It’ll be a good one,” Ven assures.

Terra kisses her. “Then we have to make a run for it.” He picks Ven up like a log, jogging through the thicket of the forest with Aqua close behind him, the Master in her arms. When they approach the castle, in the twilight, they hear chatter coming from the halls, as though ghosts are partying outside. 

Terra feels at peace despite that he now has to perform, balancing on a tightrope where he doesn’t care if he falls. He turns around and holds her neck to kiss her again, feeling her laughter in his mouth. “One more?” he asks when they break. 

Ven, still tucked in Terra’s arm, groans. “I never asked for a front seat to the kissing show. Is this my punishment?”

Aqua kisses him one more time, whispering to him I love you for what will be a string of I love you’s in the night to come. Friends will cheer, Terra will trip on the way to the altar, Sora will cry because Terra will cry, Xion will eat too much cake and get sick, Isa will laugh because he is drunk, Kairi will be the star of the dance, Aqua will be the star in his eyes. 

[imaginesbymk]

“Find Me Under The Giant Rabbit.”

Reservoir Dogs/Pulp Fiction One Shot

SUMMARY: I read a Reddit fan theory that Mr. Pink survived, escaped the cops, got arrested and was then put on parole - leaving behind his old life and lying low as a waiter at Jack Rabbit Slims. What happens when you show up to the restaurant one night?

PAIRING: Mr. Pink/Buddy Holly waiter x Reader

TAGS: swearing, smoking + mentions of basically everything that happened in reservoir dogs which is the heist, violence, etc

NON REQUESTED

WORD COUNT: 2,870 (it’s long i’m sorry)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is probably the cheesiest thing i’ve ever written, and it’s nothing tarantino would ever put in his films, also there’s no way PF and RS can legitimately tie in together 100% even though there are some factors to support otherwise, but i wanted to write this and see something lol :( leave a like/reblog + feedback!!!

[gif credit]

YOU put your car in park, shutting off the engine, and observed it from afar. It was one hell of a big restaurant, almost a bit too cartoon-like. There was a giant anthropomorphic rabbit on top, and the lights claiming the name were glowing a bright red and yellow. Mind you, this was in Los Angeles, so who wouldn’t blame you if you took one look at Jack Rabbit Slim’s, and mistake it for a restaurant at Six Flags? 

Dozens of bikers came in with their motorcycles, yet their engines couldn’t even overpower the chatter coming from newcomers left and right. You ignored a heavy tattooed biker dressed in all leather and denim catcalling you from afar, and you reached the front desk. 

A man dressed in uniform, most definitely in character, tipped his hat at you and led you to a table with only two chairs. You weren’t expecting anyone to join you in the other seat across. So what if you went for dinner by yourself? You didn’t bother asking anyone to join you for that matter. Not anyone you could think of at the top of your head would be any less boring.

You began tracing your fingers around the rim of the ketchup bottle when not even five seconds after sitting down, a lady approached your table with ruby red lips. 

Of course, you thought. Servers were dressed up as icons from the 50s era.

“Marilyn,” you say in awe.

“Close enough,” Instead of being seated in the Marilyn Monroe section being served by a Marilyn Monroe-looking Marilyn Monroe, you were greeted with a tall Mamie Van Doren, who is just as breathtaking as Marilyn refilling everyone’s coffee mugs from the other side of the restaurant. “How about I get you started with drinks?”

Ricky Nelson’s performance on stage came to an end when Mamie arrived with your food. You looked around the place while eating. People weren’t eating by themselves. Families, friends, dates, all of them occupied their seats. Now that you’ve noticed, you sort of wished you brought someone with you, otherwise the seat across from you is used as a footrest. 

So there, you propped your feet on top, and relaxed… then you sat upright. Your eyes fixated on the waiter in his section, which were the cars back in the 50s used as booths. You watch him walk towards one of them. The couple was a young woman in a blunt bob cut with bangs, and a man wearing a black suit with long black hair tied back.

You squint your eyes. It couldn’t be...

“Hi, I’m Buddy. What can I get ya?”

You blinked, dropping the half bitten French fry from your mouth. Holy fucking shit.

It was all coming back to you. The news broke out about the heist going wrong at the wholesale, all dead except for one, a cop who laid dead on the ramp inside the rendezvous was identified as Mr. Orange. Since he wasn’t supposed to know where you were from, Mr. Pink never turned up to your door as an emergency hideout, or to drag you with him on his getaway because he never had one. You never heard of him ever since. 

Here he was, Mr. Pink, alive and well, wearing glasses. What the hell happened? How long has he been working here? Is he supposed to be Buddy Holly?

“How do you want that cooked? Burnt to a crisp or bloody as hell?” you hear him ask the man in the suit who ordered a steak.

“Bloody as hell, and oh, yeah, look at this- vanilla coke.”

You noticed the irony. He left you in a black suit - and he comes back in white. Like he’d ever want to be caught dead in white, or pink.

“What about you, Peggy Sue?” he asks the woman, jotting in his notepad. You recognized the pun.

“I’ll have the Durwood Kirby burger, bloody. And… the five dollar shake.”

Were you about to laugh? Call out his name? That was enough for you to get antsy in your seat, but you didn’t want to draw attention. You saw him again while finishing up half of your meal, giving the couple their drinks and disappearing back into the kitchen. He was doing his job, but it wasn’t like he was giving his one hundred percent. For someone who preached to the Gods about professionalism, Mr. Pink sure lacked work ethic. Every employee was on point with their character impersonations as if you had travelled back in time. Meanwhile, he acted like himself and seemed bored while wearing an emotionless face, as if he hated his job and epitome of his existence. It was never a dull moment for him whenever he was with you, though.

You got up to use the restroom.

“We’re lucky we got anything at all. I don’t think Buddy Holly’s much of a waiter,” you heard the man at the booth tell the woman as you walk past them, spotting their food from the corner of your eye. It’s no surprise hearing that. Mr. Pink never looked like the type to work at a job like this.

You sat back down and soon, Mr. Pink reappeared, standing over to the side and watched the announcement of the twisting contest, smoking a cigarette. You see him eyeing two pretty blonde women walking past him, and he looked back his way, now in your direction.

He finally did what you wanted him to do, and he stares at you for nearly a solid minute.

You waved awkwardly. 

Mr. Pink tosses the cigarette in a random person’s ashtray and disappears behind the door once again. You darted out of your chair, and marched your way to where he headed, just as the couple he served got up on stage to participate in the twisting contest.

A Zorro waiter jumps in front of you. “Stop right there, mi amor!” his eyes darted at you through the cheap black mask he was wearing. “I believe the bathroom’s on the other side of the bar.”

“Where’s Buddy?” you ask Zorro.

“I’m afraid Mr. Holly is taking a quick break from unenthusiastically serving love birds in their cars.”

“Can you tell him I’m looking for him?”

“Once I see him.” Zorro then took out his sword and pointed it at you, a grin plastered on his face. “Now, shall I escort you back to your dining spot?”

Although you were aware this guy was only in character, you didn’t wanna risk getting kicked out, or having a realistic looking sword ripped through your body. You sighed and turned around, heading back. You noticed at your table a folded napkin beside your empty plate. Mamie Van Doren was last seen there, her back facing you with her heels clicking away on the tiles.

“Excuse me!” you called after the waitress. She ignores you, smiling down at new customers at an umbrella table.

Cocking an eyebrow, you used your finger to flatten the crease and read the note in bold handwriting.

FIND ME UNDER THE GIANT RABBIT. - BUDDY 

You threw the door open and ran outside, precisely under the giant rabbit of the Jack Rabbit Slim’s sign, just like he said on the napkin. You felt like an idiot checking every direction to find no one. Not a lot of the bikers were seen riding or hanging out around the parking lot, some people were coming and going, but you couldn’t find Buddy Holly.

Defeated, you turn to walk back inside. 

Mr. Pink rushed out the door and caught his breath. It looked like he was chasing you down before you could take off. A song used for the twisting contest kept playing from inside.

You didn’t run up to him and jumped in his arms or anything dramatic in that matter. You both stared at each other.

A few days before the heist you two stood across each other waiting for Mr. Brown and Mr. White inside the hideout. It was a quiet moment, not an awkward one. He just took that opportunity to study you, as you did him. It took him that moment to realize he was warming up to you. 

“Well hello there, Buddy,” you smile smugly.

YOU and Pink loitered at the side of the eatery, where the back door to the kitchen was located. He had taken off his fake glasses, showing his full frame.

“Okay,” you watch him lean against the wall, lighting his cigarette. “Talk to me. What happened to you?”

“What the hell do you think? Cops tagged me when I tried driving away. I was put behind bars, and by some fucking miracle this place took me in when I needed money.”

“You didn’t know any other crime bosses looking for a lanky dude?” Pink rolls his eyes at your joke. “I know the heist went terribly wrong, I saw the news. Everyone’s dead as Dillinger.”

“That briefcase had a shit load of two million dollars worth of stones,” Pink blew smoke out. “I swear, if that asshole undercover cop was never sent to set us up, I could have been enjoying a cocktail in Santorini. You’re lucky you called in sick that day.”

You shuddered, remembering how god-awful the illness was. “Never again. I felt like I was being hot glued to a sauna.”

You remembered the day of the heist. In fact, you mentally prepared yourself for something that you’ve never done before. You braced for what was supposed to go smoothly as Joe promised. Instead, you were woken up by the worst case scenario above 38 degrees. You were thankful Joe took it easy on you and promised another job next time. 

“All right, your turn. What did you do after that shit show went down?” Pink asks you.

“Just did my own thing. I wasn’t there so the cops never searched for me.” Pink took a slow drag, staring at nothing. He didn’t really look the same as before. Still lanky, except his hair was a bit more darkened and styled in curls, possibly because Buddy Holly had it permed that way. But his face read that he had been through a lot. Normally you felt zero pity for assholes like him, but you managed to blurt out, “I missed you.”

Pink, blowing out smoke in the air, eyed you up and down and furrowed his brows. “Likewise.”

Not only did it suck not being able to make money, you also couldn’t do it with Mr. Pink. As much as he kept his professionalism to a T, he squeezed in time to get along with you. It was no wonder Joe hired you - you were different than the guys, you moved differently and never felt small. Mr. Pink was drawn to that. 

Maybe that was just an understatement. He grew intimidated by something he expected to experience the least from in the job, and of course, straight out of a fairytale, you had to stop and ask yourself if you felt the same way, and if what you felt was right. Neither of you had any idea. It was against the rules to give out personal information to each other, and Mr. Pink took those rules very seriously, even if it was just one job that he most likely wouldn’t come back to unless a higher pay was involved and Joe Cabot liked him enough to recruit him again. 

If Mr. Pink grew too attached, if he let his guard down for one second, God forbid something would have happened to you. Without a doubt, he would have heavily blamed himself and walked away from the job without saying another word. 

His options were to wait until after the robbery to make a move, or do his job, get paid and leave. Whether or not it was out of selfishness was out of the question. Mr. Pink is already selfish in an intuitive kind of way, he’d rather avoid spiraling into a wave of emotions for one person - so he chose the latter.

“What?” Pink looked at you, feeling a bit tense. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Huh? No. It’s nothing,” you blinked, realizing you were staring at him longer than you should have. You shook your head, most likely shaking off the intrusive thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t a good time to tell him what’s on your mind. 

If anything, he’s most likely sleeping with the Marilyn Monroe waitress. “It’s just… you shaved the goatee.”

Pink nodded, looking a bit annoyed that there was no facial hair left on his chin to rub. “Buddy Holly had a clean face. For the record, the only advantage of this job is that I’m under disguise. Other than that, this place is a circus. I’m zooming back in time whenever I clock in.”

“It’s a 50s themed restaurant,” you state. “Working here sounds like fun. At least you get to dress up and experience pop culture.”

He scoffs. “No, fuck the 50s. Shit was all I Love Lucy and those puffy ass dresses.”

“They’re called poodle skirts, Pink.”

“Like I give a fuck what they’re called.”

“You know Buddy Holly smiled. He was a singer and a guitarist. If you keep up the attitude, no one’s gonna tip you. Nice Guy Eddie told me about your rant on tipping.”

“Ha! And? You will never find me up on that stage performing That’ll Be The Day, moving like a fucking animatronic.” Halfway finished, Pink tossed his cigarette aside and looked at you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

You felt your cheeks flushing. Fuck. “I am?”

He nodded, putting his Buddy Holly glasses back on his face. “Yeah. It’s a breath of fresh air seeing you here.” He stares down at his wristwatch for a moment.

“Your break’s done?”

“It’s been done,” he says. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “You’re so fired.”

“This isn’t the first time I stopped caring, so my boss isn’t gonna bat an eye.” He had his hand wrapped around the back door which was supported by a wooden block to keep it open. “Look, I’ll see ya arou-”

“Pink?” Your heart rose up to your throat.

He turned back to you. “Hm?” 

You just had to do it. You reached up and kissed him softly. Pink didn’t shove or curse at you. His features softened, pulling you close to him and kissed you deeply. Even when you two pulled away, his arms didn’t unwrap from your waist. His forehead was pressed against yours now.

“My name’s Y/N,” you tell him.

He stares at you, no snarky, sarcastic comment left for him to give.

“I know you’re not willing to give your name up just yet, you can’t fully trust me, and I get that, but I won’t tell anyone what happened. You got lucky, I think… but I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m serious.”

“Y/N,” he says your name for the first time. “You don’t have to go all sappy for me. Karma came in hot. Jesus Christ, I mean, I left you.”

“Not really. You didn’t know me. The cops had the place staked out the entire day, there was nothing you could do.”

He looked down at his shoes. “All right. But still, I feel shitty. Can I at least make it up to you?”

“How?”

Pink shrugs. “I get paid tomorrow.”

“Good for you,” you reply. “Save it like you’re gonna lose it.”

“I’ve had this job for a while now, I got enough to last. But once I win the lottery, I’m gone.”

“To Santorini?”

“With a cocktail in my hand. But that’s besides the point, right now I got enough to take you out on a date… if you’re down.”

“Where would you plan on taking me? Here?” you laugh.

“You’re funny. How about the movies? Overruled, I’m taking you to see a movie. I gotta know where you live first. It’s okay to know now.”

You nodded, you couldn't argue with that. Besides, you two would just be making out in the dark the entire time.

His hand was back on the handle of the back door. Pink pulled it open, looked back at you and smiled for the first time tonight. That warmed your heart, and you were certain it warmed his. He watched you stuff something inside his pocket square as you told him your address. He went back inside, shutting the door on you. You walked back to the front of the restaurant to pay for the bill, and went straight home. 

Mr. Pink shuffles past the chefs in the kitchen, feeling through his suit pocket to pull out his notepad and whatever you stuffed inside just moments ago.

I didn’t even serve them. Is this supposed to be for Mamie Van Doren? He stares down at the dollar bill crumpled in his hand. His frown suddenly transitions to a small but genuine smile. 

Fuck it. Nothing could stop him now. He definitely owes you a date night. He quickly stuffs the tip back in his pocket square, and comes out the sliding door. 

THE END

—

TAGLIST: @locke-writes​ @aryn-the-bearheart​

[collecting-stories]

Blue Lagoon - ep. 01 - Rafe Cameron

Summary: Ward announces a family vacation while being the absolute worst and you meet Rafe for the first time. 

A/N: Can’t believe I’m making a Rafe series...super nervous about this one. If you like the first chapter and wanna be tagged let me know! (Also, all the chapters are named after beach cocktails). This is a re-write of Chapter 1!

Holiday in the Sun Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Thirteen had been a tragic year. The year of braces and that terrible hair cut that could only be described as the love child of a bowl cut and a mullet. Your best friend had taken scissors to your hair and you had regretted it ever since. It was the year of hoodies and basketball shorts and more layers than Billie Eilish. The year you fell and busted up your face so bad that you suffered through vacation with a bruise the size of Texas on your jaw. The year all your friends caught up to you but you were still taller and your boobs were still bigger and you still felt more awkward. 

The worst thing about thirteen though, had been the vacation. It was the first time your mom had decided to do a joint vacation to the Bahamas over break. You were thirteen and an absolute tragic mess and already so embarrassed just by your existence and then she flew you to the Bahamas to spend Christmas with the Camerons. 

And if Rafe wasn’t already so attractive and beautifully self-assured; fifteen and already tall and funny and you felt arguably worse about yourself in comparison to him and his sister. But especially him. And part of that was entirely because he’d been so nice. You were fully prepared for him to treat you like every other kid at your school treated you but he didn’t. He was so nice to you and you’d spent a vacation that you thought was going to be horrible having an incredible time. 

But that was the last of the joint family vacations, your mom focusing her time on her new job once you’d gotten home, so you were surprised when she proposed the idea again your junior year of high school. 

“The Bahamas?” 

“Over Christmas...with the Cameron’s.” Your mom replied, barely looking up from her notepad. 

“Oh uh, okay,” there wasn’t much else you could say. She wasn’t about it accept a no from you and yeah, the last trip had been fun, but that nervous insecurity ate away at you from the moment she mentioned it. 

You certainly weren’t the tragic thirteen-year-old mess that you had been back then, and maybe that should have inspired some confidence but instead you were just nervous. If you had gotten arguably better than what did Rafe look like? Probably even more gorgeous than he’d been before. One of your friends suggested trying to find him on instagram but you didn’t need any more anxiety pre-vacation so you avoided the possibility of seeing him before you really saw him at all.  

-

It was Rose who first suggested the little change of scenery for the New Year. Winter break was fast approaching and Ward was at the end of his rope with his oldest and Rose, in an ill-fated attempt to make his exhaustion work for her, mentioned the house in Nassau. Late at night, while Ward sat in his office trying to calm his nerves with a bottle of scotch. He’d been woken by a call from Peterkin that Rafe had been arrested, the third time in two months, for driving under the influence. He didn’t ask what his son was under the influence of and he almost left him in lockup for the night but he got dressed, picked him up, and drove him home in silence. Something had to change and then Rose broached the topic of a vacation. Of course it came with a catch, as everything with Rose seemed to do.  

“Dad,” Sarah groaned, looking up from her homework when he announced the trip over breakfast the next morning. “you can’t be serious?”

Ward had come down to breakfast, calling Rafe into the kitchen where Sarah and Wheezie were already eating. He didn’t hate Rose’s idea, even the part of it that benefitted her need to show off, and he decided not to waste time telling his kids the news.  

“As a heart attack Sarah.” He replied. “It’s been a busy year and I think this is exactly the kind of family trip we all need right now. Take some time away from the island and our,” he looked across the room at Rafe disdainfully, “more objectionable pastimes.”

“It was one DUI.” Rafe said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He was still a little hungover from the night before and the weed he’d just been smoking had his eyes bloodshot. He would’ve really loved to get some sleep but just as he was starting to doze off Ward was banging on his bedroom door.  

“And it would’ve been your third if Peterkin didn’t owe me a favor. I’ve only got so much clout Rafe, I can’t keep bailing you out every time you decide to do something reckless. Your choices-”

“Reflect the family.” Rafe replied, “I know.”  

“Then you’ll know this isn’t up for discussion. We’re going to Nassau in a week.”

All of them missed Wheezie’s groan as she laid her head in her hands. The silent onlooker to her family’s revolving door of drama, Wheezie’s role was that of mediator, instigator, and observer, but she wasn’t granted the privilege of an opinion.

“I’m supposed to go to the Keys with Scarlett!” Sarah mentioned, as if it mattered, “why do we all have to be punished just because Rafe screwed up?”

“I didn’t screw up Sarah, I was barely drunk. Shoupe was just trying to give me a hard time.”

“Oh, of course, our mistake.” Ward replied, “the world is out to get you. Do you know where your classmates are right now? In college. Yale, Harvard, Duke, even NCS...and where are you? That’s right, sitting at home every day, smoking weed, wasting my money.”

“I said I’d do some work for you.”  

“Because this is what I want representing my company? You can’t even get out of bed before three in the afternoon most days.” Ward snapped, “take this vacation as an olive branch. And when we get back start thinking about what you want your life to look like because any more ‘wrong turns’ and you can forget the nice stuff and the free room and the bailouts.”

“Dad!”

“That’s not fair to me and Wheezie!” Sarah piped up, repeating her earlier argument, “why are we being punished?”

“Don’t rope me into this.” Wheezie commented. She wasn’t going down with this ship. At least not yet.  

“I hardly think a week in the Bahamas is a punishment Sarah.” Ward replied, “now, is it possible to get through this without any other objections?”

“Can I invite Topper?” Sarah asked, “you said Rose’s friend is coming with her daughhter so I don’t see why I can’t invited someone.”

“Rose’s friend?” Rafe asked, looking up from his phone.  

“Yes. We’ve been on vacation with them before. You remember? He daughter is a year older than Sarah I think.”  

“Yeah,” he nodded, the slightest smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.  

“Can I invite a friend?” Wheezie asked.

“No.” Ward said.  

“If Sarah gets to bring someone why can’t I? That’s not fair!”  

“I’m done with the arguments and backtalk. We’re leaving in a week. If Dr. Thornton says Topper can come, he can come. But I’m not a babysitting service for you and your friends Wheezie.”  

“Sarah always gets to-”

“Louisa!” Ward snapped, hand hitting the marble countertop. Sarah’s eyes went wide and Rafe looked up from his phone, standing up a little straighter at the notable anger in his father’s voice.

“Sorry.” Wheezie shrunk down in her seat, looking away from her dad.

“Now, do you think it’s possible that we can all get through this without any more arguments? We leave on Sunday. Since I have actual work to do, unlike any of children,” Ward said, looking over at Rafe, “I’ll be in my office.”

All three of them stayed put as they listened to their dad’s footsteps as he headed upstairs to his office. Sarah got up from the table, grabbing her phone and heading outside to call Topper while Wheezie still sat there looking close to tears for being yelled at.  

Rafe put his phone down on the counter and crossed the kitchen, putting his hand on his sister’s back and rubbing small circles. “Hey, no worries, okay? I’ll hang out with you on the trip.”

“You’ll just off with Topper and Sarah and I’ll be stuck with Rose while she day drinks.” Wheezie muttered, rubbing at her eyes.

“I promise Wheez, I won’t ditch you.”

“Okay,” she looked up at him, holding her hand out, pinky extended, “pinky promise?”

“Yeah, pinky promise.”

-

The week went by faster than any of them wanted it to, Sunday creeping up too soon. Trips to Nassau were usually staggered. Ward might go with Rose, or Rafe and Sarah went with friends or Ward took Wheezie, but they never went altogether. A family vacation hadn’t happened in almost four years.

Rafe could remember the last trip. Sarah had brought Scarlett because, once again, she was their father’s favorite child. Ward told Wheezie she couldn’t bring someone, pretending that she was too young but Sarah had been twelve and she’d been allowed to bring someone. Scarlett was a nightmare on vacation and an absolute bitch to you, Rose’s best friend’s daughter. Rafe had spent most of his time with you just to avoid his sister and Scarlett but he’d actually had a great time. Probably the last great time he had sober.  

On Sunday morning he stood at the back of the SUV, helping his dad load it up for the drive to airstrip.  

“Alright, do we have everything we need to go?” Ward asked, looking toward the house as Rose came out with her biggest suitcase rolling alongside her. “Rose, it’s a week for godsake.”

Sarah leaned out the window at her stepmom before sharing a look with Rafe, rolling her eyes. Rose caught the look and frowned. “Sorry all my clothes aren’t the size of Malibu Barbie and require a little extra space.” She said, glaring at Sarah.

“Here we go!” Sarah swore.

Ward took a deep breath, “just get in the car. Please.” He passed the suitcase to Rafe before following his wife around the side of the car, “and Sarah, behave.”

“Are you kidding me? She literally started it. I said nothing.”

“I don’t wanna hear it.”  

Sarah groaned, sitting back in her seat, “this is the stupidest vacation, why do we all have to go?”

“Sarah!” Ward shouted, “not another word! Some of you are lucky that we’re all going since you certainly don’t deserve a nice vacation.”

Rafe shut the door as he climbed in the backseat beside Wheezie, “am I supposed to say thank you?” It didn’t surprise him that somehow his dad yelling at Sarah had turned into his dad taking a dig at him.  

“It’s beyond my comprehension how I managed to raise such incredibly spoiled, ungrateful children.”  

“Sorry dad,” Sarah muttered.  

“Well I won’t wait for the other two apologies.” He said, looking in the rearview mirror at them. Wheezie had her airpods in, staring down at her phone, “this one probably can’t even hear me.”

Rafe nudged his youngest sister and she looked up, “huh, what?” She took one headphone out and looked around the car but Ward had already changed the subject.

“Is Topper meeting us at the airstrip or am I supposed to be picking him up?”  

“He said he would meet us.” Sarah replied, slumping in her seat as they backed out of the driveway and headed to the airstrip.  

“You know Sarah,” Ward mentioned, always happy for an opportunity to dig for a dig at Rafe’s expense where he could find one, “I really do like this young man. He’s very responsible. It’s a shame my own son couldn’t be so disciplined and mature.”  

“This is gonna be a great vacation dad, you were right.” Rafe piped up.

“You can save the snark Rafe.”

The only thing quieter than the rest of the drive to the airstrip was the flight to Nassau. Quiet and awkward, so much so that Topper spent the entire trip too tensed to even move, aside from his knee bobbing uncontrollably. None of the Cameron kids seemed to notice the unease or they were all so adapted to it that it didn’t seem to affect them.  

Ward had eased up on the commentary and Rafe was silent, hoping he wouldn’t have to listen to anymore of his father’s opinions if he just stayed quiet. He knew that wasn’t the case but it was working so far. Rose was too engrossed in her phone to bothered with any of them, Sarah and Wheezie taking up similar approaches to the flight.

-

“You know we could be taking a private plane to like, Paris or something right now? Wouldn’t that be kind of incredible?” You asked, reaching for one of the bagels that your stepdad had laid out on the table.  

“The Bahamas are equally incredible,” Your mom piped up, smacking your hand and making you drop the bagel, “eat some fruit, you look bloated.”

“I’m not bloated mom.”  

“Well, you're either bloated or pregnant and let’s not hope it’s the latter.” She snarked, pushing the bowl of fruit closer.  

“Thanks mom.” You rolled your eyes, “and thanks so much for this vacation when I was supposed to be in Ptown with Ben.”  

“Ptown’s not going anywhere.” She replied. “Try to be positive, remember what Dr. Nygaard said, try not to decide the outcome of an event before it happens.”

“Thanks for that inspirational advice,” you said, “you should get it printed on a t-shirt.”

Your mom had announced the trip not three days after you had committed to going to Provincetown with friends for Christmas. You’d paid for a fifth of the house that your friend group was renting for the week only for your mom to announce that you had to cancel. Rose had invited her (and you and your stepdad) to the Cameron’s Nassau house and she had accepted, effectively canceling any plans that you had. There was no chance of arguing the point with her, if she said you were going then you were going. And to be fair, part of you kind of wanted to go, just for the opportunity to see Rafe. Though it was for that same reason that you were really dreading the chance to go to.  

-

The Cameron’s landed at the airstrip in Nassau an hour after your family had already arrived and your mom had taken the liberty of renting two SUVs for the week. When Ward did land, Wheezie pressed her face to the window, looking out at the private port. “Who is that?” She asked, not recognizing Rose’s friend or her family.  

“My friend LeAnn, you remember we went to Nassau with them last time.” Rose replied.  

Your mom nudged you, a silent jab meant to tell you to turn your phone off. You were only making yourself more depressed anyway, seeing that your friends were having a great time while you were stuck on a family vacation.  

Rose waved as she exited the plane and your mom waved back enthusiastically. “LeAnn, I’m so happy you could make it!”  

“Thank you for inviting us,” your mom said, hugging Rose before looking to Ward, “we always talked about vacationing together again, I’m so glad it finally worked out.”

“Oh me too,” He replied though it sounded half-hearted.  

“It’s so beautiful here.” LeAnn said, looking around as if she hadn’t had the opportunity to before, “didn’t I tell you how nice it would be?” She asked you.

“Yeah, it’s super warm here.” You made a point of moving your hand up to block the sun, squinting behind your sunglasses and scrunching your nose.

“Don’t mind her, she was going to spend her vacation in with friends but she’ll get over it.” LeAnn said, excusing your behavior.

The rest of the family, Rafe, Sarah, Topper, and Wheezie, caught up with Ward and Rose, bags in hand and ready to get to the house. Wheezie avoided introductions, a quick wave before she headed straight to the second car, putting her airpods back in as she did. Rose ignored her daughter, going through a round of introductions anyway, as if you had all completely forgotten each other. As she pointed to Rafe you looked up from your phone, your eyes meeting his. Four years since your seen him and that same familiar pull in your stomach was still there when he smiled, like butterflies erupting. It lasted only a second as your mom spoke up and you turned to look at her.  

“I can’t believe how old you both are now! And Wheezie, the last time I saw you all you were just kids.”

“Well it’s been four years mom.” You pointed out.

“I know how long it’s been.” She said, glaring at you. “I guess we’ll see you all back at the house right?”

As everyone piled into their respective cars, your stepdad offered up the backseat if anyone wanted, noting that they had four people to get in the back of their car and your family only had you. Rafe looked at the back seat as Sarah climbed in, bag still in his hand as he slowly stepped away from the car.

“If you don’t mind?” He said, catching your attention.

You stopped what you were doing, hand hovering over your bag as you stood there at the open trunk, your stepdad answering Rafe, “not at all, hop in.”

He nodded, coming around the back of the SUV and putting his bag in the back. You were still standing there, practically frozen as you followed the motion of his bag getting tossed in the trunk as he turned to you, “need help?”

“I can lift a bag, promise.”

“I mean, last time-”  

“The latch wasn’t on my suitcase last time!” You laughed, “I can’t believe you remember that, that was so embarrassing.” You had been lifting your suitcase onto the cart at the hotel last time you were here and dropped it on the ground, the latch popping and spilling your clothes and belongings everywhere. The worst of it being Rafe picking up the stuffed dog that you had brought with you. “I did bring Wilbur though,” you said, just to get a laugh.  

It worked, Rafe shaking his head at you as he put your bag in and shut the trunk door. You followed him around to the backseat and he let you get in first, sitting so close to you that his thigh touched yours. It was unnecessary, since there was plenty of room with just the two of you, but he acted like he didn’t even realize it.  

“Sorry you had to give up vacation just to come here.” He whispered, turning to look at you.

“And miss the opportunity to hang out with you for a week?” You asked, grinning.

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @lemur46 @haute-shawn @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama  @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @prejudic3 @drewsephsmiles @starrystarkey93 @n1ghtsh4d3-67 

[simpsiren]

sticky notes: the story

mark lee x reader

introduction 

main masterlist

description. you use sticky notes to get into contact with your soulmate.

genre. soulmate au, high school au, strangers to lovers au

warnings. nonee

a/n. so some people requested for a full story of this so here it is! i really liked making this because the concept is just so cute cudndn oh and i did include the same idea as what i did in my previous post but i had to change it a little so that it would fit the plot. this is a really really long ff since its a slow burn typa thing so please try to stick with me on this one HAHA anyways enjoyy! :D

“you actually believe that?”

you lift your head up from your notes to look at soyoung. she nods her head and hum eagerly. you rub your temples from seeing her respond. “i do believe soulmates exist. but sticky notes to talk to them? what’s social media for then? and how is it even scientifically possible?” you question soyoung, bringing your eyes down as you continue to do your homework.

“that’s the beauty of soulmates, ray!” soyoung whines. you shake your head. “you’re dumb to believe it without confirming the information with other relevant sources.” you mutter out bluntly. you hear soyoung letting out a ‘tsk’. “here you go again being a history student. i swear im glad i never took it.” you scoff and slam your pen on the table gently.

“excuse me, woman! at least i dont have to memorise the whole textbook and only having 5 pages of content coming out in the exam.” you stick your tongue out playfully to tease soyoung. “i cant get over the fact that valcanos didn’t come out eventhough i memorised so much for it.”

the both of you laugh, knowing that the two of you can never stop debating on whether history or geography is the better subject.

“ray complete your homework at home. we cant stay in the classroom for long you know?” soyoung stands up to get to her seat, which is 2 rows down yours since you were sitting right at the back. you liked sitting at the back. it allowed you to always be able to use your phone in case you get bored in class. you still cant believe that your teachers think you’re a good and obedient student. you figured they only assumed that due to your high grades.

you sigh “that’s true.” you turn around to grab your back that was hanging in your chair and start packing your materials. once you were done, you grab the class key and walk over to soyoung’s seat, waiting for her to finish packing. you notice soyoung has finish packing and went to switch off the lights. you allow soyoung to step out first before you close the door behind you and lock the classroom door.

you and soyoung walked down the hallway silently, you were looking out the window to watch the sunset while soyoung had her eyes on her feet. only your footsteps could be heard as almost everyone has left the school grounds except for some teachers who were working late. the school normally closes at 7pm and you’re walking out at 6:50. to break the silence, soyoung opens her mouth to start a conversation.

“okay if you dont believe me why dont you try it yourself? like write a simple introduction to your soulmate.” you raise an eyebrow as you shove your hands into the front pockets of your mom jeans. “why dont you do it?” you fought back as you huff. soyoung bites the inside of her cheek as a moment of silence passes for her to think of an answer.

“because i believe it. and you do not. so you should try it.” you smacked soyoung’s arm, making her flinch back and shouting a loud ‘ouch’. you roll your eyes, knowing you didn’t hit her hard and she was just overreacting. “brilliant excuse,so. but if its going to make you stop talking about it, i might as well.” soyoung face lit up as she jumps happily and starts skipping ahead of you. you laugh and pull the handle at back of her bag to keep her explosion of excitement to the minimum.

“you owe me brown sugar milk tea. large.” you taunted. soyoung waves her hand lazily. “i’ll buy you one after school tomorrow. but you better update me during math.”

you wanted to say how you could just text soyoung to update her, but you remembered the fact that soyoung’s mother took away her phone since she didn’t do well for this year’s midterms. although to you, soyoung’s grades were decent. unfortunately for her, soyoung has to live up to her asian mom’s high expectations. the thought of this made you want to frown, but you showed a bright smile regardless as the two of you finally made it to the school gate, waving to each other and bidding farewell before walking down opposite paths.

once you arrived at home, you took out your phone from your back pocket. you saw a notification from your mother saying that your parents would be home late. you shrug your shoulders as you walk to your room. “as always.” you breathed out.

you did your normal routine of showering and eating leftover dinner that you needed to heat up at the couch while you completed one episode of the anime series you were so hooked on. you continue watching but with the amount of homework you have, you might finish them all by midnight if you dont slack.

you turned off the tv and washed your plate before heading into your room. as you close the door behind you, your eyes immediately went to your desk, which was pretty messed up since you had a test to study for yesterday that you completely weren’t prepared for and had to squeeze in as much information as you can. hence, the scattering of notes and textbooks.

you stroll over to your desk and sat down. you take out your homework from your back which was beside the desk. looking at the stack of homework, you groan in despair as shove it to the back of the desk till it hit the wall. “ah fuck it! im just going to ask kun for help.” you admitted your defeat depsite thinking you would be able to gain some energy from your dinner. you also thought about how you’ve done your homework in the morning plenty of time so i shouldnt be a problem unless kun doesn’t offer his help.

you jump to your bed and lay down, bringing your phone out and immediately start scrolling through instagram. as you swiped your finger up to look at the posts of the people you follow, you stop at one. a picture of a couple who met through the sticky note theory. or so they claim. your thumbs hover over the screen as your eyes look up to the ceiling, starting to remember what soyoung asked to do to get your bubble tea.

yoy tap your index finger on the side of your phone as you constantly started to think whether you should do it or not. you’ve heard the rumours. but are they even true? the more you thought about it, the more intriguing the idea got. but at the same time, you also thought of how stupid it sounded and was probably made to fool people.

after contemplating and having in a debate in your head that felt like forever, you finally place your phone down beside you and take a deep breath. “ill do it.” you groan to yourself, letting curiosity take over your other feelings.

you gather up your strength to stand up from your bed and walk over to your desk. you push all the papers and textbooks aside, grabbing a yellow sticky notepad from your stationery organiser. you had other colours too like pink and purple, but you figured that you should go with the classic.

pulling out a random pen that was laying in between the pages of one of your textbooks, you tilt your head to the side as you start thinking of what to write, unconsciously biting the end of your pen in the process.

you bite the side of your cheek and shrug, deciding to go with the plan of writing whatever that comes to your mind.

um hi? i dont even know if you’re going to see this. its funny, really. i heard a rumour that you can communicate with your soulmate through sticky notes. it’s probably just fake news and im writing to a nobody. that would honestly be embarrassing but it’ll be like love letters.. to myself(?) or my soulmate. write back? haha

you read over what you wrote an endless amount of times, thinking if you should make changes. you groan and immediately stick the sticky note onto your wall, giving up on giving second thoughts about what you call this ridiculousness.

you went about your night, forgetting you have left the sticky note on the wall. as you were on you bed scrolling through tumblr at 2 in the morning, you hear something. it sounded like a piece of paper had fallen from your desk.

unable to see in complete darkness, you turn on the flashlight from your phone and walk around your room, trying to find whatever it is that fell. it didn’t take you long to find a small yellow sticky note that you accidentally stepped on.

you pick it up, remembering that you wrote on the sticky note and thought that it was yours. however, once you were able to get a closer look, you noticed that the words on the sticky note have changed. so has the handwriting.

holy shit. i dont know what is this. but apparently a sticky note appeared on my wall saying i have a soulmate. my friends told me i should write back because of some rumour. so here i am trying. hi im mark. i dont know your name, but hope you’ll tell me once you recieve this. you’re in luck because apparently the rumour is true. im just as crepped out as you are.

you froze in your spot. your fingers shaking as you read the note again. you scratch your head. being too tired and unable to think straight at 2 in the morning, you place the sticky note on your desk and went back to bed to play with your phone. you soon forget about the fact that your soulmate has replied to your message that you have written on your sticky note.

as you got ready for the next period which was math, soyoung immediately runs over to you, dragging the chair from the desk beside you and taking a seat. you flinch a little when you suddenly see her close to you. 

“so did you try it?!” soyoung asks, her voice filled with enthusiasm . you brushed a few pieces of hair behind your ear, nodding your head as you take out your textbook from under the desk. “did you get a reply then?” 

your mind started to take you back to the mysterious encounter that you had last night. “mhm.” you reply simply. “though the only thing i remember because it seems to be the only relevant information is that the person’s name is mark.” soyoung gasped loudly, making you crease your forehead as you watch her overreacting again. 

“your soulmate’s name is mark then.” soyoung concludes, folding her arms confidently as if she made a great discovery. you laugh, rolling your eyes sarcastically. “isnt it obvious?” soyoung frowns fakely. 

your mouth gapes open as you hit soyoung’s arm lightly. “buy me my milk tea!” you demanded with a wide smile. soyoung places her notebook on your table and nods constantly. “i will you addict.” she groans. you happily say thank you as your teacher comes into the classroom and class began. 

“what are you going to do about it now though?” as you recieved the question from soyoung, you kept silent for a moment, giving time to think of an answer.

 “ill write something back? i dont know.. ill have to read the letter again when i get back home.” you whispe to soyoung. she nods in reply as the two of you payed your attention to the front again. it surprised you that soyoung was paying attention but you only assumed that she wanted to do better in class and shrug your shouders, writing down the notes youve missed while talking to soyoung.

as for you, your concentration in class dipped slightly because now, the thing that is occupying your head the most is the thought that the sticky notes theory might actually be real and you cant say its not possible anymore, making you even more shocked than you did last night.

lucky for you, today is the only day of the week where your class ends the earliest, along with two other lower ranked classes. you and soyoung quickly pack up to go to the mall to get your reward. after soyoung buys you your drink, you and soyoung went your separate ways.

after about 30 minutes of taking the bus and walking, you finally arrived at home. you place your drink on the living room table and proceed to place your bag in the room and head for the showers.

once you were done showering, you walk out of the bathroom to head to your room while drying your hair with a small towel. opening the door, you enter and went straight to your clothing rack. just when you were about to grab a shirt from the hanger, you heard the same noise last night. another piece of paper has fallen on the floor.

you turn your head and look down. this time, you found another sticky note right in front of your feet. the colour of the sticky note changed from yellow to a light blue. you tilt your head as you pick up the stick note from the floor, finding it odd as you wonder how the colour of the sticky note changed.

you take a deep breath before reading it, noticing that the handwriting was similar to the one you read last night. a little messier, but still readable.

hi again.. im not sure if you’ll recieve this since its the afternoon and i know people are busy with work or school. i skipped school today so haha. um i just wanted to write to you, despite me not knowing a single thing about you. its odd really. its like i feel the need to write something to an unknown identity that people assume to be my soulmate. i still dont know your name, so i hope youll reply soon. take your time and take care :)

- mark

“skip school? what is he, a bad boy?” you scoff to yourself. you try to take in whatever’s on the note, but another thought comes to mind. you walk over to your desk and saw that the yellow sticky note with mark’s reply was still there. you find everything about this weird and just odd in general. a lot of questions sprouted, but you didn’t want to think of it since you were afraid you would complicate your thoughts and just throw yourself into a stress hole.

you continue to dry your hair with one hand while the other held onto the light blue sticky note. you bit your lip and gulp. after letting out a long sigh, you place the sticky note next to the other one and changed into your clothes, as well as bringing your drink from the living room table to your room, placing it on the desk as you sat down.

you take out your pencilcase from your bag and brought out your fresh new black pen that you just bought at the school’s stationery store. the previous pen you had was full of ink till soyoung was dumb enough to drop it, spoiling the pen and was unable to be used again.

peeling off another yellow stick note from the stack at the edge of your desk, you were about to put your pen on paper when you realise you dont even know what to write. what do you say to this person you barely know about? you continuously tap the edge of the pen against your desk as you take a sip of your drink. you look over to the two sticky notes with the messages that the person has left. its funny how you have to think so hard just to write a short message.

hey again. i actually ended school early today. my name’s raven. but my friends call me ray. i honestly don’t know what to say to you. im still dumbfounded over the fact that you’re my soulmate and we’re here communicating over sticky notes. the world really does work in a strange way. if you dont mind, i guess i want to know how old you are and you’re education status?

you held out the sticky note in front of you and sigh in satisfaction. why? it’s because of your neat handwriting. it was always a trait of yours that you deeply appreciate. you place the sticky note on the wall and advert your attention to the other sticky notes, placing them on the wall beside the new one you have just written.

“will this drive me insane? i might end up with a whole wall of this.” you say to yourself, rubbing your face with your palm before going to your bed and laying down, wanting to have your evening nap.

“this is awesome!”

“no its scary.”

mark and his group of friends stared at the sticky note that has a message written with beautiful handwriting. mark flinched when he felt an arm on his shoulder, turning around to notice it was chenle’s. “when did you write your previous sticky note?” renjun suddenly asked. mark tilts his head as he tried to find an answer.

“less than an hour before you guys came i guess?” mark shrugs, standing up from his desk and taking a seat at the edge of the bed beside jaemin and haechan. “this raven girl is your soulmate then.” chenle walks towards mark and stands in front of him. mark nods slowly. the room grew silent again with everyone having the similar thoughts.

“you know what would be funny?” haechan smacks mark’s thigh, the sound making everyone turn their attention to mark and haechan. “what?” mark asked with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“why dont we prank her and say you’re a sugar daddy and live in a mansion?!” everyone gave yuta weird looks, making haechan laugh hysterically. “are you crazy? do you think i want to chase my soulmate away?” mark scolded haechan, smacking him hard on the chest, resulting in haechan’s back falling onto the bed.

“you’re always asking for a beating i swear.” renjun comments, walking towards haechan and balling his hand into a fist and acting as if he was about to attack. jaemin laughs to try and calm them down. “kids let’s not fight.” jaemin announced, looking over to jeno only to find him standing there watching quietly.

“go ahead, mark. you should write something. we cant keep her waiting.” jeno finally spoke up, grabbing the sticky notepad and a random pen from mark’s table and passing it over to him.

mark stared at the blank paper while the others were talking about what to have for dinner. it didn’t take him long to decide what to write. when mark starts writing and began to be in full concentration, everyone crowds around him to see what he’s writing.

sup raven! i wont call you ray since we aren’t friends yet. im still shocked. like the possibility of things like this being possible is just another possibility that can possibly happen. but anyways, to answer you question, im a high schooler from dream high. im in my third year. its kind of awkward for me while im writing this since my friends are reading every word im taking down. i guess i should ask you the same question back then. hope to hear from you soon.

“will you guys stop being nosy?” mark groans, standing up and pasting the sticky note on his wall, along with the other sticky notes he received from you. “you didn’t have to say that we’re here.” haechan retorts. mark rolls his eyes. “jesus..” mark mutters under his breathe. “anyways, yall are paying for dinner since you guys bribed me to write back.” mark sticks his tongue out playfully and runs out to the living room. everyone follows suit.. except for jeno.

jeno slowly walks towards the wall and leans forward to get a closer look of the sticky notes, specifically the two others beside the new one that mark just wrote. “raven? why does that sound so familiar? the handwriting...” jeno brings his finger up and lightly hovers them over the uniquely written words. it looked like calligraphy, and retro looking. jeno felt as though he had seen it before somewhere, or knew someone who wrote like that.

jeno snapped out of his deep thoughts when jaemin called out to him, making him walk towards the door and glancing at the sticky notes once more before joining the others in the living room.

you were currently video calling your friends when you heard the crackling of a piece of paper. of course you knew what that meant. you peered down the the floor from your bed and reached your hand out to pick up the sticky note. “ray?” doyoung called out to you when he noticed your face wasnt on screen. you lay back down on the floor and brought your phone up to show your face.

“what was that sound earlier?” lucas asked, currently sounding hyper. “the mysterious mark sent me another sticky note.” you reply sarcastically, waving the sticky note to the camera to let everyone look at it. everyone nodded their heads at the some time, some letting out a long ‘ah’ as well. “read it out loud!” yuta shouted.

“the fuck no!” you shouted back. you stared at the sticky note, but didn’t bother to read it. you thought of doing that once you’re done video calling them.

“how was today for you guys?” you asked, wanting to know how they’re doing.

“its tiring! we had dance practice, then we have to do recordings for our new albums. we barely get any sleep.” ten whines, his tone filled with stress. you laugh loudly. it made everyone frown and pout. you sigh. “pursuing your NCT world domination is never easy.” you commented, highlighting the word ‘world domination’ with a change of tone.

everyone lets out a long sigh and started to complain one by one, making the whole video call chaotic for almost 10 minutes. you could only smile and shake your head.

after about an hour or so of talking about basically everything and catching up with each other, everyone decided that they should end the call here since it was beginning to get dark and they needed to start practice soon. you bid your goodbye to them once more and ended the call.

you now adverted your attention to the sticky note. reading the letter, you raise both eyebrows. “dream high? that’s not far from here..” you mumbled to yourself. you started to think about everything you know about dream high. you know it’s was about an hour’s journey from where you live. it wasnt really well known either. the overall vibe of the school was mediocre.

however, you felt like you were missing something. something about that school is somehow related to you. you just couldn’t think of an answer despite squeezing all thoughts that you have in your brain. you groan and stood up from your bed and to your desk, proceeding to wanting to write a reply to mark.

hey. sorry if you get this quite late. i was busy video calling my friends. to answer your question, im a third year as well from jookin high. i would ask for your number so we dont have to do this all the time but my friend would scold me saying “but you’re removing the fun out of it.” but anyways, mark aka my soulmate, tell me about yourself, to start off.

you stick the note onto the wall, looking at the row of messages you’ve had recieved so far. you found it weird how the first time you’ve sent the note and got a reply back, it was on the same sticky note, just different handwriting. but you had to write on a new sticky note to send a new message only to get the same sticky note with a different message in return.

you only see his answers lined up on your wall. you started to wonder how this mark guy looked like. is he good looking? what are his hobbies? his attitude towards school? you really wished you could just text him through instagram and not have to go through all this trouble. but that option would earn you a large smack on the back by soyoung and your really didn’t want that.

“do we really need to be here now? like now?!”soyoung whined, while pushing the cart and following behind you while you tossed some packets of frozen bacon. you stopped walking and turn around, nodding your head intensely. soyoung groans and took out her phone, proceeding to use it while still pushing the cart.

you walk around the supermarket, trying to find the ingredients listed on your notes in your phone. it was the weekends and you’re parents were going to be away for a business trip for a week so you thought of inviting soyoung over and making home cooked meals as a bonding session for you two.

after about 30 minutes of gathering the ingredients and having soyoung constantly screaming and fangirling over tiktok edits of jaehyun from NCT. one note: she has yet to know that you know them and that they’re your friends. you figured that it would be best to not let anyone know so as to avoid any situation that would put your friends in a tight spot, since well they’re idols, you were looking for one last item that you had trouble finding.

“soyoung help me! stop watching tiktoks!” you groan, snatching soyoung’s phone away and shoving it in her back pocket. soyoung rolls her eyes lazily and the two of you proceeded to scan the different isles and shelves, looking over every item.

while you were too concentrated looking at the bottom shelves, you felt that you have bumped into someone. you squat down, letting out a soft ‘ouch’ before standing up and looking to see who you bumped into.

“wait. jaemin?” you furrow your eyebrows as you tilt your head, pointing your finger at the guy in front of you. “raven!” you noticed that it was jaemin after all, and both your faces lit up and the same time, grinning widely at each other.

“uhhh..” soyoung says out loud, you and jaemin turn your heads to face soyoung who was behind you. “oh! this is jaemin. we used to be neighbourhood friends before he moved out 4 years ago.” you introduced jaemin to soyoung. jaemin nodded and gave her a bright smile. soyoung only shrugged her shoulders and took out her phone. you turn your attention back to jaemin.

“why are you even here? dont you live quite far?” you ask, your fingers interlocked behind your back. jaemin nods, running a hand through his hair.

“well yes. but we came here to find something that only this supermarket sells.” jaemin replied back, his warm smile never leaving his lips. you smile, reached your hand out to ruffle his hair, laughing softly afterwards. “we? who’re you with?” you stared at jaemin with eyes of suspicion. jaemin started pinching your cheeks, making you whine and begging him to let go.

“with my friend, ray chill. im still single.” jaemin pulled away and folded his arms, pouting. “im sure you’ll find one soon.” you reached out to ruffle his hair and give off a wide smile.

while you and jaemin were catching up and being in your own world, soyoung got too bored of watching the two of you and decided to walk around the supermarket, leaving the cart behind you.

just as she was looking at the drinks isle to get her favourite sweet drink, she sees someone picking up a bunch of bottles one by one and placing them back on the shelve. out of kindness, she decided to help, picking up a bottle and placing it on fhe shelve before looking up to face the guy, who had a straight face while looking at her.

“i was just trying to help. im soyoung.” soyoung smiled, reaching her hand out and waiting for thr guy to greet back. he looked at her but doesn’t respond, proceeding to pick up the last bottle that was seen on the floor. “im jeno.” jeno stands up and nods his head to greet soyoung. soyoung nods back, walking down the isle to grab her drink from the shelve. “have a nice day.” soyoung says before leaving the isle and disappearing out of jeno’s sight. he only shrugged in response and went to do his own thing.

“you met who?!” haechan asks as he takes a sip of his ice cold water. everyone had their heads turned to jaemin, who raised an eyebrow at everyone’s weird expression. “i met my old friend raven. what’s so shocking?” jaemin asks back casually, picking up a few pieces of fries and dipping it into the sauce before shoving it in his mouth.

“dude that’s the name of mark’s soulmate!” haechan screams, making everyone flinch due to the loud noise. “i highly doubt it. there’s plenty of girls in the world with the name raven.” jaemin protests with his mouth full and chugging down gulps of coca cola.

“i mean that’s true. jeno you were with jaemin, right? dont you suspect anything?” renjun starts to question jeno, who was silently playing with his phone. looking up at the others, he gulps.

“i didn’t know he met his friend. i was picking out drinks. i just met a girl named soyoung.” jeno shrugs, taking a bite of his burger. mark scratches the back of his head, now starting to think of the fact that jaemin might have met his soulmate. though he also thought about how that could not be totally possible.

“nah i dont think its her. like really ‘raven’ could be anyone.” mark says, siding with jaemin. haechan tilts his head in awe. “jaemin do you know what school she’s going to?” jaemin only shakes his head.

“i lost all contact with her when i left her neighbourhood. plus we were young. i barely knew her honestly.” the living room falls silent, everyone trying to think of a conclusion to this.

chenle groans, standing up from his seat and slamming his hands on the table, gathering everyone’s attention as their heads shot up. “instead of pondering as if yall are solving some crime, why dont mark just ask her through the sticky note god dammit?” chenle pinches the bridge of his nose.

everyone’s mouths gape open as the room was suddenly filled with ‘ah’s all over. chenle shakes his head. everyone was now looking intensively at mark. mark furrows his eyebrows. “okay guys hold up ill grab the stick note.” mark stands up and takes one bite of his burger before going into his room for awhile and coming out with a sticky note and a pen.

jaemin noticed jeno being silent the whole way. and althought thats normal since its jeno’s nature and personality to not be so outspoken like the others, jaemin could sense that jeno was off and seem to be in deep thoughts.

and jaemin was right. jeno couldnt stop thinking about jaemin’s encounter with ‘raven’. the name sounded so familiar. he tried to recall every girl he has came into contact with during his life. why did he feel like the name was tied to the handwriting he saw on the sticky notes?

“jeno.” jaemin nudged him in the shoulder. jeno mumbled a soft ‘oh’ before turning his attention to mark just like the others. “she didn’t send me a reply after my last one though.” mark says, looking up.

“its fine. she probably didn’t see it. just write already.” chenle says in anticipation. mark shakes his head. “calm the heck down its not like we can get an answer immediately.” mark rolls his eyes and began to write.

hey raven. um i know this may sound weird. but have you gone to a supermarket and met a guy names jaemin? im not a stalker i swear. its just that he’s my friend and apparently you know him. though i dont think that such a coincidence and come by just like that. hope you hear from you soon.

jeno stared at the sticky note that mark proceeded to place at a random wall of the living room while everyone continued to eat and chat. his thoughts finally linked and a imaginary lightbulb appeared on above his head when he finally realises why he was so drawn to mark’s soulmate.

you were focused on wanting to solve a math question when the sticky note above your desk’s wall had fallen in front of you, revealing a new message. you place your pen down and let out a sigh, remembering that you hsve forgotten to write a reply and that mark probably sent you another one.

you tied your hair in a messy low bun before picking up the sticky note to get a closer view. you blink your eyes rapidly as your eyes furrow in awe. what the note said really shocked you and made you freeze in your spot. jaemin is friends with your soulmate? there’s no way.

you sat there for awhile as you constantly read over the words, still in shock with your moutb hanging open. you just couldn’t believe it. was it really what it seemed to be? another thought came to your mind as well. the thought of just who is this friend of jaemin’s? could it be mark? was your soulmate literally in the same place as you yet you never knew?

you grab a fresh new piece of sticky note and proceeded to write a reply after staring at it for so long and thought that it was finally time that you do something.

okay what you wrote really was weird. jaemin’s my old neighbourhood friend. its such a coincidence how you know him. i guess the connections are there. so haha yeah. damn. im very mind blown right now.

you take a look at your handwriting again, smiling to yourself. “i really do love my handwriting.” you mumble under your breath. you stuck the sticky note on the wall and resumed doing your homework, hoping that mark would reply soon.

while the boys were immersed in the horror movie they were watching on friday night, everyone turned their heads to each other when they heard the noise of a piece of paper falling onto the floor. in unison, everyone turned their head to where the noise came from and seeing the sticky note that fell.

jisung grabs the controller and pauses the movie. “we’re watching a scary movie and creepy stuff like that happens?!” jisung asks, stuttering out of complete fear.

mark decided to be the brave one after seeing everyone’s terrified face and stands up to pick up the sticky note, going back to take his seat on the couch soon after. “d-does that always happen?” mark shrugs. “well duh. that’s how i know she sent a reply. it wouldn’t be this scary if we weren’t watching a horror movie.”

everyone’s heads once again gather around mark as he read the note out loud. everyone gapes their mouth open, some covered their mouths while jeno could only stare at it in disbelief. “i guess we’ve confirmed its her.” mark breathes out, placing the sticky note on the table.

jeno reaches out to grab the sticky note to have a look. the unique handwriting that he suspected would belong to you really was yours. out of anger, he tears the sticky notes into two. everyone had their eyes widened at jeno’s sudden shocking action. mark snatches the now torn note back, looking down at them before facing jeno.

“what the heck was that for?!”

“dont talk to her anymore. she’s trouble.”

everyone lets out a sigh in unison except for mark, looking at everyone’s weird reaction. “what do you mean trouble? and why does it look like you all know something except me?” mark furrows his eyes as everyone exchanged glances continuously for a moment.

“she’s just not someone you should be with. that’s all.” jeno stands up and walks to his room, slamming the door shut and produring a piercing noise. the room was silent for awhile until mark speaks up.

“what am i missing here you guys?”

no one replies.

“we’ve been friends for a year and you guys are all keeping secrets for me?” mark scoffs in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“we arent in the position to tell you. its jeno.” jaemin murmurs under his breath, looking down on the ground just like the others.

marks keeps silent and stands up from the couch, the palm the torn note was in is balled into a fist as he goes into his room as well.

haechan sighs. “jeno has to tell the truth. he’s been holding onto that grudge almost forever now.”

everyone nods their heads in agreement. “if not, he’s going to live in despair now that he knows she’s his best friend’s soulmate..” jisung adds on. 

everyone could only silently hope that things could go well. 

after that day you’ve sent a reply, you havent heard from mark since. you dont know why. due to your lack of information on him, it felt as if he disappeared into thin air. although only a week has past by, you felt concerned and somewhat worried for him. did something happen to him? what made him cut off his connection with you? its not like you did anything wrong. 

out of pure desperation, you decided to skip school today. youve never skipped school before, and you felt so rebellious and bad. why did you do this? so you could go to dream high and meet mark in person. youve had enough of the sticky notes. you just wanted to see how he was like in real life, not having to think about it through notes. 

with a little help from jaemin by texting him on instagram, you knew that mark’s class should be ending by 4pm, and you were there at 3:50 in the canteen where jaemin told you to wait. funny how the security guard lets a student from another school come in with a pass or anything.

you slowly start seeing groups of students going down the flight of stairs that lead to the canteen which had a path leading to the front gates. some eyes glanced at you as they notice someone who doesnt belong at their school, you couldnt care less though. your thoughts were only filled with mark. how he looked like, how he would carry himself. your anticipation was the only thing you felt.

you wore your headphones yet you could suddenly hear a lot of squealing and shouting. you look up, turning you attention to the stairs. a large group of girls crowding around another group of people, who you assumed to be guys. you scoffed, thinking about how there’s always that one group of good looking guys all girls seem to go crazy for. you watch as the group of guys push through the large crowd.

once you got a closer look, you tilt your head to the side. you slowly bring your headphone down from your ears and let them rest on your neck, getting intrigued by how the girls were getting so crazy, even more crazy than the ones from your school.

“its mark! he’s so cute!” 

you widen your eyes as you heard the word ‘mark’. you stood up from your seat, peering your head up to find which one is the girl referring to. you only see two guys walking. one smiling sheepishly while the other kept a straight and cold face. just which one is mark?

suddenly, you felt an arm grabbing yours and pulling you back. you jump out of fear and turn around noticing it was jaemin. you calmed your breathing as you look at jaemin. 

“meet mark under the block nearby. its too hectic here for you to talk to him.”

jaemin dragged you out of the school grounds and to a secluded block where only a few students where walking past and left you there. you were lost in confusion but decided to trust whatever jaemin was doing, sitting down at a random bench.

“jaemin told us to meet him here where is-” 

“raven.”

“what?”

you immediately stood in front of the two guys you saw at the canteen as you notice a familiar face. you werent able to get a clear look at them before, but now you realise that you knew one of them. “jeno..” you look at a different direction a you tried avoiding his gaze, though you knew you couldnt, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

mark looks at the both of you, utterly confused as his attention shifts from you to jeno constantly. “this raven?” mark points at you, tilting his head. you nod slowly as your turn your head to face mark. you observed his body up and down. he was good looking, just like jeno.. yet his aura told you that he was way more outgoing and open than jeno. 

“you look...”

everyone was silent.

you gulp in nervousness. “im busy. bye mark.” before jeno could go, mark pulled on his arm to bring him back to stand beside him, earning a glare from jeno. the one you could never forget. “stay. i know something happened. you were always quiet whenever we talked about this girl. and i also know you all kept something from me.”

you slowly turned to jeno. you could he was annoyed whenever he looked at you. you felt it through his eyes, and it was terrifying. jeno took a deep breath in, folding his arms and placing his weight on one leg. 

“if you remember clearly, chenle told you that before we became friends with you, we had a fight and didnt talk to each other for a long time. we didnt tell you this, but it was her who caused it. she brought chaos into our group. everyone forgotten about it clearly, but i cant. after what she did.. i cant forgive her.”

you opened your mouth, wanting to reply but your words were somehow stuck in your throat. you didnt exactly know what to say or do in this awkward situation.

“it.. it was a long time ago jeno, please. my feelings for you were real, even if we werent meant to be. i dont know how many times you need me to say sorry.” you pleaded, biting your lip as you waited for jeno’s reaction.

jeno sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a huff of rustration. “then why did you leave? you left me stranded, and because of you, i almost left my friends becaused i lived in agony since i missed you so much. i almost pushed everyone away.” you shivered as jeno’s voice started to raise. 

 you also glanced at mark, who still kept his confused expression on his face. through his gaze never left you as you felt his eyes scanning you body up and down. 

“you two used date?” mark asks. you nod in reply.

“we were kids. we didnt know about all this soulmate stuff. but now..” 

“you know what? be together. im not going to leave my friends just because of my pent up grudge and feelings. i cant control fate either.” 

years had now past since you met mark. it really was fate. the two of you became close in no time and now.. you were fianally married. you couldnt be more happy to be with mark. who you were destined to be really was made for you, and you only. and to think this all escalated due to a note you sent out in pure curiosity.

you still remember what happened with jeno after that day, despite the lack of interaction between you two, jeno was open enough to accept you as his friend again. you are now living a happy life with mark, and always being able to hang out with his group of friends. today was no different. 

“haechan get the chilli sauce!” you hear mark shout as you smile widely, feeling his arm snaking around your waist to pull you close. having a barbeque was a great idea to celebrate jisung’s birthday. 

you soon see haechan with the bottle of chilli sause, placing it on the table where everyone gathered around the table which had jisung’s birthday cake. “before we do anything with the cake, let me announce my wish.” jisung announces proudly. you raise an eyebrow. “you cant say you birthday wish out loud!” you scolded jisung, but everyone laughs.

“his wish is something we all know.” jeno says, winking playfully at you. you tilt your head in confusion when you suddenly feel mark’s arm leaving you waist. you look over to mark who was shoving his hand into his pocket as if to find something.

you were completely clueless when mark nods towards jisung, to show some kind of signal. “i wish for mark and raven to get married!” jisung shouts. 

you gaped your mouth open in shock when mark pulls out a small box, opening it in front of you to show a ring. you cover your mouth in disbelief. “did you guys really-”

“please marry me, raven. my sticky note soulmate.” you hear everyone clapping s a tear of happiness drips from your cheek. you quickly wipe it away as you heard the nickname that mark gave you. “we wouldnt normally do this but it was jeno that suggested this.”

you look over to jeno who had a soft smile on his face as he nod his head. looking back at mark, you grin widely as more tears started flowing out. “of course ill marry you, you dork.”

[vesuvian-american-fics]

better with time. Ch 4

fevers.

You’re struggling with a harsh fever. (AO3)

Words: 1,633

The following weeks were a blur of the same old routine. Reading, writing, drawing, and trying to speak. Progress was made but it was all too frustratingly slow for your own liking. You could make sounds now but they were embarrassingly hoarse and your throat was sore from the work. Only Hange was around for the vocal lessons and you were pleased with that. Who knows how Levi would tease if he heard your voice as it was now?  

You could sound out your vowels and other simple noises, your irritated huffs and puffs now came with sound, something Levi wasn’t too happy about. Hearing you express your agitation with his presence annoyed him like no other but he often held his tongue. One stern glare would settle you down for the time being, you knew your place and that was enough for now.  

“Oi...” He said, as he opened your cell door just a crack for you to come retrieve your lunch. No response, even though you’re sitting right there in your cell reading at your desk he presumed. Levi rolled his eyes before stomping into the cell and harshly dropping a tray down next to your slumped form. The loud racket from the clanking metal and glass shook you from your slumber. You must have dozed off instead of studying.  

A gleam of cold sweat made your forehead shine as a few loose strands were sticking to you. Levi frowned before snatching his hand away from you, afraid of being too close. He recoiled in disgust before exiting the cell and heading towards Hange’s office.  

“Shitty Glasses, your favorite titan looks sick.” He says wiping his hands clean on his handkerchief. Hange didn’t take their eyes from their microscope lens, they simply hummed at nothing in particular. Levi’s eyes narrowed; he’s sure they hadn’t actually heard a word he said.  

“Oi! You hear me?” He asked, stepping closer, again, he was partially ignored.  

“Huh? Yeah, yeah. Someone’s not feeling too good right?” They said, slipping a new slide under the scope and scribbling notes haphazardly in their messy notepad. Levi pinched the bridge of his nose before kicking at Hange’s stool to garner their full attention. Hange gasped as their arms flailed to grab the desk before them as to not fall on their ass.  

“O-oh! Who’s sick?” They sheepishly asked as they tried to set everything back to rights on their disorganized table. Levi huffed at the scene before him before giving Hange a well-deserved lecture about keeping tidy and listening when they’re spoken to.  

“That brats down there sweating like a hog, get them a bath. She looks shitty.” He said as he turned to make his leave for a cup of steaming black tea.  

“I’m busy why don’t you do it?” Hange complained taking one last glimpse at the specimen in their microscope slide. Levi said nothing, simply leveling Hange with a stare over his shoulder.  

“Joking, joking! Right away!” Hange rushed past Levi in their haste to get a bath running for you. Levi shook his head before continuing down the opposite hallway for his tea and some quiet time in his office signing off on reports.  

You had hardly touched your lunch when Hange got to you. They cocked their head to the side as they watched you pick away at the vegetables on your plate, long gone cold. Hange playfully huffed at the sight, surely a hot bath, fluids, and some rest and you’ll be right as rain.  

You gave Hange a weary smile and wiped your forehead clean of any lingering sweat. Hange returned that smile and ushered you off to the bath, this time allowing you to wash your own hair. The two of your shared a few laughs as Hange walked you through their latest experiments and the daily goings on with the Scouts.  

“They’re really curious about you, you know. Sooner you can talk and we get things cleared up I think Levi will let you meet people.” You snorted at that, sure he would.  

Hange barked a hearty laugh before continuing.  

“He’s actually not so bad when you get to know him.” They said with a soft smile, reminiscing on the good times.  

You scrunched your nose up at the thought but you also were the type to see the good in everybody, and surely, he had some good qualities if Hange could stand him. Of course, he’s strong, intelligent, and admittedly handsome, but is there truly anything charming about his character? Not yet at least, you thought.  

The time spent in the hit bath must have taken its toll on you, your face was flushed red and you were out of breath just sitting there. Your heart was pounding and your vision was growing dark around the edges. You motioned for Hange to come help you stand and with hand movements you told them you desperately needed something to drink. Swiftly, the two of you made it back to your cold damp cell where you shuffled into bed and they were off once again to grab you a cup of warm tea.  

On the way to the canteen for a clean glass, Hange spotted and angry Levi storming down the hallway. Quickly, Hange tried to avoid the Captain but he caught up to them with little effort and grabbed them harshly on the arm.  

“Shitty Glasses... where are those reports I asked for yesterday?” He grilled, folding his arms over his chest with a look on impatience plastered of his pale face.  

“Uh... I got carried away in my research– but, I can work on that right now and get them on your desk tonight!” Hange clasped their rough hands together, almost begging for Levi’s patience. He sighed before he agreed and begin to stalk off further down the hallway.  

“Ah! But can you get our guest some tea? I think she’s just dehydrated. Thank you!” Before Levi could protest Hange was gone in an instant to go finish up those reports as ordered.  

“She’s no guest.” He muttered to himself as he fixed two cups of steaming jasmine tea, adding a bit of mint to both drinks. His light footfalls descended the stairs and you groaned realizing it wasn’t Hange but Levi that was bringing your drink, meaning he’d probably sit down here and watch you until the early evening. You tried to feign sleep, hoping to avoid any awkward interaction with the man but he saw through your trick in an instant.  

He cracked open the cell door before sighing in annoyance.  

“Oi, come get this cup.” You hesitated a moment before tossing the thin sheets off of your body and shuffling towards the bars. You gave Levi a curt nod before graciously taking the warm tea from him and drinking it like you hadn’t had water in weeks. It did well to soothe your aching throat and warm your body instantly.

He quirked an eyebrow at that but instead of commenting he slammed the cell shut before taking his seat. He drank his tea with more patience than you, savoring the cool minty flavor that could ease any illness he ever encountered. Thinking back to Hange’s words earlier you decided to show your gratitude properly now that you finished that delicious tea.  

You raised your tea cup to Levi in cheers before giving the man a shy yet genuine smile. He simply nodded before closing his eyes and continuing to sip his drink. You flopped down onto your bed as your pounding headache began to cloud your senses.  

<3 

For the next three days your mind was foggy. You don’t remember much other than sleeping majority of the day, sweating, a skull shattering head ache, and a fresh cup of tea three times a day.  

You also developed a dry cough that destroyed your throat, unfortunately you found the tea did little to soothe that even though you hardly had the energy to sit up and drink. You looked horrible, soon enough Levi and Hange knew this was no mere dehydration spell. Something was clearly wrong, maybe you were battling a fever of some sort.  

An emergency report was sent to Erwin and the next day he was standing before you, a heavy hand over your forehead.  

“Definitely a fever.” He said, confirming their conclusions.  

“We should move her to the infirmary for the time being until this fever breaks.” He spoke as he pulled the damp sheets from your body. You shivered at the change in temperature, shrinking in on yourself.  

Levi frowned, he wouldn’t like the idea of you being out of your cell and upstairs but you looked gravely ill. He sighed in defeat, if he were in chargehe’d bring any medicine you’d need down here but Erwin was too foolishly kind.  

As you at up to stand with the Commander’s help a sharp pain shot through your chest. You gasped and clutched the sweat laden fabric over your chest, your lungs were on fire, heart pounding against the back of your sternum. You doubled over as a violent cough racked your body, drops of crimson blood spilled to the wet stones underneath your feet.  

Hange gasped, rushing forward to catch you before you hit the ground, your consciousness quickly fading. Levi’s eyes widened at the sight before him, lines of blood spilling from your lips, utter pain etched across your features, drenched hair dripping with sweat, your labored breathing loud and rushed. Erwin rushed out of the cell carrying you up to the infirmary with Levi and Hange hot on his heels.  

Your consciousness was wavering, all you know was that you saw many concerned faces on the way to wherever you were being carried.  

And then everything went black.  

[seokiloquy]

Coffee Diet - Kozume Kenma

AU: Tokyo Ghoul 

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, Gore, some angst (Though both aren’t too heavy or graphic I think), probably a poor representation of the manga/anime cause I haven’t actually read/watched it all the way through despite wanting to

Word Count: 3.3k+

Kozume grunted. His kagune, the source of his inhuman power, made strikes at his cannibal attacker, forming a bone-like needle that stabbed down at the unknown ghoul. The concrete shattered like thick glass upon impact as the ghoul continued to dodge. 

Tokyo (especially its many outskirt neighbourhoods) had a ghoul problem. 

“You’re in the wrong territory if you think you can get away with that.”

The other ghoul only laughed, continuing his fast steps. The laugh itself was painful, scratchy and high pitched. It made Kozume wince.

The people of Kozume’s neighbourhood knew of the danger that lay waiting outside their doors, and thus an unspoken rule had been made among them. Don’t be outside past sunset. Those that did take a nightly venture typically were found mangled and half-eaten by morning. Broken bones peaking through bloodstained flesh, large bites taken out of their thighs, and torsos ripped open; delectable looking meal for a ghoul gone rouge. Kenma wouldn’t agree.

The dark alley that the ghoul had run into was walled off.

His opponent's black greasy hair hung over most of his face like a curtain, only letting a single black and red eye, and a sharp-toothed smirk poke through the strands. His hair swayed as he spun around.

“What does territory matter if there’s food to be had?” The ghoul screeched before his powered ghoul organ seeped out of his body and shot toward Kozume. It scratched his cheekbone, barely missing his eye, thankfully, but would take time to heal unlike any normal would.

Kozume hissed at the cut, willing his own kagune to slash at the ghoul who began climbing up the sides of the brick walls. The sharpened bone just missed the man’s food as he scurried over the ledge.

“See you later!”

The false blond stood there, yawning and rubbing his black and red eyes that were pinned to the building’s top. Heat from the rising sun began to warm his back. With the new light and extra heat, the tired ghoul raised his arms, stretching, as he took in his familiar surroundings. The port, or at least near it. Kozume stepped out of the alley to see the broken concrete that was left in his chase.

Another yawn escaped him before he tucked his hand in his red sweater’s pockets and walked the other way. He needed coffee.

Kuroo’s shop, as lovely of an atmosphere as it created, was in the middle of a garbage dump. It didn’t help that some of that outside aesthetic carried into the cafe itself. The bell pierced into Kozume’s ear canal as he opened the front door to the dingy sight. Stained counters, chipped porcelain, yellow lights that were so off-putting that they stayed off all the time. It’s always been dark and gloomy, until today.

“Welcome! Take a seat, I’ll be right with you.”

That’s new.

Kozume stood in the doorway, watching your form dance and sway behind the bar. He noticed the music playing, soft and completely unnatural for the cafe. Your uniform, definitely not assigned by Kuroo, was crisp and clean, black shirt sitting on your form nicely. It was modest and professional. Maybe not assigned, but definitely Kuroo’s style.

He watched as you placed a small cake at another regular’s table, patting the old man’s signature plaid jacket on the shoulder. Whatever you said made the man laugh and twirl his fork happily.

His golden eyes, now settled after his too-early walk from the destroyed park, were trained on you as he sidestepped over to his usual seat in the corner next to the window. He sat, and took his eyes off your bobbing head as you turned around. His brow furrowed. The table was clean. Kozume looked around the cafe, noticing the lack of dust and stains.

He didn’t see you drop off a cup of coffee at a table, or walk his way until you were right in front of him.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

He jumped in his seat, causing his bobbed hair to billow out for a moment. Oh no, the look in your eyes immediately told him that you could see his rosy cheeks. He coughed. “Black coffee, please.”

Your smile was perfect.

“Hey, Kenma!” An unlikely saviour with black spikey hair appeared from the doorway. Kuroo strode over and waved you down as he slid into the seat across from Kozume. “Ah you got a scratch,” he hissed, immediately putting pieces together in his head. His head turned your way. “Do you mind getting me a coffee too, (L/N)?”

Kozume’s eyes followed you as you placed your pen and notepad back into your pocket and walked toward the counter.

“(L/N)’s new, just started yesterday and all the regulars love the new energy already. So tell me, what happened?”

Kozume sighed, looking down at his hands. “More keep coming. One disappears and another shows up. I’m too tired for this.”

Despite his vague tone, Kuroo knew what Kozume was talking about and sighed immediately. He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be able to help you out soon enough, (L/N) has gotten a good hand on things, but I don’t want to leave them alone in the shop too suddenly. You understand.”

Kozume did understand. You, the human behind the counter, were a breath of fresh air in the musty town. You didn’t know, you couldn’t have. The demeanour of someone in the know in this neighbourhood wasn’t that positive. He knew that he wouldn’t get any help until you knew of the cafe’s main purpose.

“Take your time, I can handle it for how.” Kozume yawned and gestured to his marred cheek. “This guy might be a pain to deal with though.”

Just as he finished speaking the TV that hung above his head began to rattle on about destruction occurring at their neighbourhood’s port.

Kuroo winced. “That’s a pain, all right.”

Two white cups of black coffee hit the table's surface. Kuroo thanked you as you stood straight and reached into your apron’s pocket. Next to Kozume’s mug, you placed a large band-aid as you ripped open a disinfectant wipe. “May I?” 

He nodded and let your fingers gently turn his chin in your direction. The wipe glided smoothly over his cheek but stung. He hissed and pulled his head back.

“Sorry, it’ll be over in a second, I’ll be quick. Can I finish?”

Kuroo stayed silent as he watched Kozume get cared for by his employee, only speaking when the barista left the younger ghoul’s side with a kind smile. “You’re blushing.”

“I will kick your ass,” Kozume sneered before lifting his mug up to his lips for a quick sip. “Why’d you hire a human anyway?”

Kuroo mirrored his friend’s actions and drank some of his well-brewed coffee. “They don’t hold any ill will toward Ghouls if that’s what you’re wondering, maybe a bit scared. But (L/N) is very kind.”

Kosume continued to yawn through their conversation, occasionally looking your way, only to immediately turn his head as soon as there was a chance of you catching his stare. He didn’t realize how long it went on until he heard your footsteps heading for the exit.

Kuroo twisted, resting his arm over the back of the chair to face you putting on your coat. “Walk home safe!”

“Will do!” Your smile glittered before you pushed the door open and walked through.

Kozume’s eyes continued to follow you through the glass until you turned out of sight. 

“Do they live far from here?” he asked Kuroo, questioning his warning.

Kuroo slapped his hand on the table twice, gathering the energy to rise to his feet. He grabbed the long since empty mugs, whose stray coffee had begun to dry on the sides. “Only a 5-minute walk. But (L/N) has to walk through alleyways to save time, and well, even during the day, you can’t be too concerned for one’s safety.”

“Ah, Kozume! Black coffee again? Would you like some food with that?”

Kozume’s stomach churned at the thought of putting something other than coffee into his system. “I’m alright, just the coffee is fine. Thanks.” Hands stuffed in his pockets, he walked to his corner. “And Kenma is fine.”

“Then, please, call me (Y/N).”

The cafe smelled cleaner than the weeks prior. Cleaning solution seems to sit right under Kozume’s nose and punch him every time he breathed. Taking his seat, he immediately noticed the lack of smudges on the window.

Kozume tried to give you a kind smile as you set his cup of coffee on the freshly cleaned table. He could feel heat crawl up his neck and settle underneath the skin of his cheeks. He gulped, readying himself to separate his lips and speak.

“You seem drained, has work been alright?” You beat him to the punch.

“Ah ya, work.” He didn’t have a job. “It’s been alright, just a bit draining because of the night shift. How has school been?”

Kuroo was quick to get you both well acquainted after your first meeting. He carried conversations until Kozume was willing enough to speak for himself. The blond was thankful for that, knowing that if he had been left alone by your side no familiarity would have been built.

“Oh, the usual. I have a few assignments to finish but nothing too overbearing. I did read an interesting article about social relations and hierarchy of ghouls in society. It was a bit depressing but educational.”

Kozume choked on his coffee, hunching over the table as he lifted a fist to his mouth. Just as the ragged coughs began to subside he felt your hand gently rub his back, sending him into another fit of coughs.

“What’s the assignment about?” he asked, settling down.

He noticed the concerned look on your face as you pulled napkins out of your pocket and set them on the table. “Ah well, I’m studying public health and humanities, and my prof told us to choose a disadvantaged group to write about. Yada yada, so on so forth. I chose ghouls.”

He gestured for you to sit with one hand, waving at Kuroo with the other as he wiped down the main counter. You smiled and took the seat across from him.

“You believe ghouls are disadvantaged?”

Your brow furrowed, pondering. “Well ya, in some ways. Maybe not in strength and power, but ghouls are rather hated in society don’t you think?”

Once again, while preparing to speak, he was cut off by the overhead TV switching audio. Listening to the graphic words coming out of the reporter's mouth, Kozume sighed and raised a hand to push against his temple.

The distressed look on your face made him pause. A pit grew in his stomach as your concerned face turned to Kuroo, who was calling you back to your station. You were quick to bring back your smile. “Enjoy the coffee, and rest when you can.”

Kozume returned your smile meekly but was focused on the grotesque details the reporter listed, unable to stop himself from imagining you, defenceless, in that sort of danger. He couldn’t stomach the coffee.

“(Y/N), I really don’t think I should leave you here alone after dark.”

You sighed, looking to your boss with an unimpressed smirk. Kuroo squinted, lips pursing as he watched your knowing smirk turn humorous. 

“Testu, don’t you have work to do at night? My walk home may be a lot safer, if you get to that, no?”

Kuroo cursed, punching the wooden counter with a dull bumping sound. He groaned. “How did you know?”

You laughed, shifting the position of your hands on the wooden poll and continuing to sweep the floor of the empty cafe. “I study! It may not be so obvious but don’t you think I’d pick up on you being a ghoul after a few weeks?”

“I mean maybe, but I was hoping you didn’t know!”

A light scoff shot off your tongue and through your teeth. “I would think you’d be relieved, now you don’t have to be so cautious around me.”

Kuroo picked up the washcloth he had been holding earlier off the counter and began to wipe the wooden surface down again. “No harm in caution. Even if you do know.”

“Ya, ya, just don’t show me a severed limb. I can’t do gore.”

Kuroo laughed and tossed the damp towel onto the edge of the metal sink. His arms shifted to his back to aunty the black apron around his waist. “Are you sure you’re okay here alone?”

The TV’s sound changed to the news’ intro tune as you grabbed the remote and turned it off. You gave the ghoul a warm smile. “I can handle it. Go go.”

The sun was already over the horizon by the time you were ready to leave. You stood on the inside of the door, punching in the pin code to the security lock. It beeped, giving you the warning to leave and lock the door. Once done, you pulled your sweater a little tighter on your shoulders and shoved your hands in the pockets.

You focused on the sound of your rubber souls stepping on the concrete and the occasional tick of a pebble getting kicked. Street lights flickered, or at least the ones that were working did. Walking upon a burnt out light, you took the marker to turn down the neighbouring alleyway.

Two steps in was all it took before you lifted the collar of your weather over your nose. The putrid smell wafted your way from the dumpster. “Ugh, it’s not garbage day tomorrow is it?” Setting closer towards the opposite wall, you help your breath and face forward. Until the burnt-out light flickered on.

You halted, head frozen forward as you looked out of the corner of your eye. Immediately your stomach churned and your throat began to pulse uncomfortably. 

First, you noticed the pool of dark red blood that was slowly growing, nearing your shoes. Then it was pieces of loose skin and grey hair, stained as they floated in their puddle. Your heart seized at the sight of a ragged plaid jacket that was recklessly torn. You searched higher.

A single red iris surrounded by a black gloss stared at your profile. The rest was obscured by pin-straight greasy hair except for a large, inhuman smirk that showed off shark-like teeth covered in blood.

You cautiously removed your hands from your pockets, watching the poorly dressed skeletal like figure’s hunch move up and down as he breathed.

One beat.

You saw his claw-like fingers hold the wrinkly hand of the severed arm like a possessed lover. Your foot shifted.

Two beats.

The ghoul’s head tilted, revealing a tube-like pound of pink flesh hanging from his fangs. You gulped.

Three beats.

You ran.

Pulse already off the hertz, you sprinted with all your might to the flickering light at the other end of the alley. A stupid move, but taking the time to turn around wasn’t an option. Each step sent a jolt into your stomach. Your footsteps were much louder than before, but your blood was drowning it out. The lamp was so much slower now.

You froze suddenly. Stopped by a tug on your arm. Vertigo suddenly hit and the lamp was pulled further away. Then you recalled the tug, and noticed the increased pulsing in your arm, then felt your sweater become sticky and heavy. You looked to the side and down.

Were bones supposed to stick out like that?

You hardly registered it’s presence before the spike-like bone was torn from your limb, sending you into another fit of screams.

The light at the end of the alley flickered again, before going completely dark. 

His heart raced, blood pumping through his ears like crazy.

“Calm down Kenma! You can’t go crazy like this!”

“I have every right! You heard that scream, didn’t you? It was (Y/N)!”

The blonde’s kagune went wild, thrashing about and nearly knocking Kuroo over in the process. Said ghoul didn’t flinch, only brushing away the agitated organ with a push of his own.

“I know, but you have to—”

He was off, launching into the air and onto the rooftops, following the smell of your spilt blood before Kuroo could finish his sentence. The black-haired man swore, quickly following suit.

The sight was expected, horrifying, but not surprising.

Whoever’s intestines were falling out of the ghoul’s mouth, Kozume couldn’t tell, but he wasn’t gonna let the ghoul he had been hunting get another chance to make a meal out of your body if he could help it.

“GET OFF!”

Something cracked as the long-haired ghoul’s body flew off yours, smashing against the brick wall of the alley. Kozumes sharp-pointed kagune pinned him through the stomach to the cracking brick. 

He only gave you a glance. The sight made his stomach churn as if he were trying to eat a regular meal. Torn skin, visible bone, and blood everywhere. He wanted to vomit.

Behind him he could hear Kuroo’s feet land in the massive pool of blood, making it splash slightly. Their clothes would have to be trashed later.

Kozume gritted his teeth. Despite his boiling rage at you being injured, he managed to hold off his brutal assault against the bloodied ghoul until he heard Kuroo zip away with you in his arms. 

Even in your current state, you’d be safer away from the scene.

“I don’t think (Y/N) is going to be able to work for a while.”

“Some of the regulars are spooked, but relieved.”

Whatever was holding your arm like a boa constrictor was making sleep really hard. You groaned. Why did your stomach hurt?

“Ah, look who’s up.” Kuroo’s voice was as teasing as always.

Your sight was blurry when you finally came to. The first thing you noticed was the aggressive pulsing in your arm and stomach followed by a warm hand on your shoulder. You tried to shift.

“Ah stupid, don’t do that.” Kozume’s voice, despite a slight rasp, was as gentle as ever.

You sighed and squinted towards Kuroo who stood at the end of — what you were quick to realize—  was your hospital bed. His arms were crossed and the smirk he wore was humorous. “Kuroo, if you say a single word, I will gladly risk further injury to fight you.”

Kenma shut his eyes and rubbed your shoulder before reaching for a hot mug from your bedside table. Kuroo walked around to the opposite side to help you sit up. You watch a thick red sweater fall off your shoulders and onto your lap, in front of your bandaged stomach.

Kenma spoke quietly, “Your sweater was torn to pieces.”

“Like my body?” you joked, only to get a sour look from the man in return. “Sorry.”

He sighed again and handed you the steaming mug. “Here, drink this. You need food.”

Kuroo walked back to the end of the bed, letting Kozume take care of you from then on.

“Coffee is considered a food now?”

Kuroo let out a short chuckle, making you tilt your brow in his direction. Kozume coughed, placing the mug down quickly to lift his red sweater off of your lap. He draped it back onto your chest, tucking it between your shoulders and pillow, then slowly guiding your arms through the sleeves. 

You rubbed your hands together for warmth as Kozume offered you the hot mug again. You took it, thanking him with a shining smile. You once again failed to notice the rosiness of his cheeks, even if Kuroo didn’t.

“You won’t be able to stomach anything else, sorry.”

Why did this take me so long to write…. Oh well. -Bacon

Posted: 14/02/2021

[love-and-monsters]

Quarantined with a Tiefling

To help us all deal a little bit with the current situation, I’ve decided to write a story for MKM’s monster quarantine. Hopefully it will help lift your spirits.

GN reader X M tiefling, 3050 words.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t leave.” The werewolf at the door folded her ears back and drew up her lips in an impressive show of teeth. “You’ve all been exposed.”  

“That’s bullshit!” A wyvern leaned over the werewolf, showing off an even more impressive set of teeth. “You can’t keep us here. It’s not fair. I have family waiting for me!” He lifted an arm. “Get out of my way.”

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to calm down.” A human wearing the same uniform as the werewolf marched over. She was holding a taser. The wyvern snarled, but backed off. “Look, you were all on the plane with her, so any of you could be infected. You have to stay here for a week to ensure that you aren’t sick and won’t transmit it to anyone else.”

“What if we can’t get sick?” a vampire asked. “It’s not far to keep us here just because we were on the plane.”

“There will be a few doctors along momentarily to screen for those of you who cannot catch diseases. All the undead will be free to go after proper disinfection procedures. The rest of you will need to wait out the full time of quarantine.” The crowd rumbled with discontent and the human raised her voice. “We will do our best to ensure that you are compensated for your time, but you are staying here.”

Several people approached her and guards started to converge on the area. You withdrew, back to the furthest edge of the room, away from the angry crowd. Several other monsters were there with you. A nervous-looking harpy was curled up in a corner, a naga was stretched across the floor, and a tired tiefling was slumped next to your belongings.

“Sorry,” you said, approaching him, “I just need to get into my bags.”

He blinked at you and shifted away from your bags so you could get into them. A yawn split his face, revealing large fangs. He attempted to lean back against a nearby column, but his long, curling horns prevented it. Grimacing, he lay awkwardly over what you assumed was his bag.

“Are you all right?” you asked cautiously. He focused on your with surprisingly bright purple eyes. They set off his dark blue skin in a striking way.

“I’m not sick, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. His voice was clear and low, not raspy as the sick woman’s had been. “I had a red eye connecting flight to this one. I don’t sleep well on planes, so I’m afraid I’m a bit exhausted.” He sagged back over his suitcase. “I hope they set us up somewhere soon. I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Oh,” you said. “You’re not worried?”

“About the illness?” He shook his head slowly. “No. Are you?”

“A little,” you said. “More worried about my work, to be honest.” He looked at you curiously. “I work in museum archives. I can’t do my work remotely and if I’m not there, I’ll fall behind.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he said. “I’m a graphic designer. Just flying back from a meeting with a client. As long as I have my computer, I have work.”

Almost as soon as he’d finished speaking, there was the crackle of a bullhorn and a voice boomed out over the crowd. “Attention all passengers!”

You sat up and looked toward the front of the room. A tall minotaur was standing there, yelling into a megaphone. She was flanked by the werewolf and human from before while a few other uniformed people walked out into the crowd. “You have been gathered here because you were all passengers on flight 441, which, it has just been confirmed, was also attended by a woman carrying Mirkwood Flu.” A murmur spread through the crowd and the minotaur raised her voice further. “It is unlikely to cause death, but due to its rapid spread rate and its ability to affect nearly all species, we have been told to quarantine all passengers to ensure that this disease does not spread further.”

Angry yells started to break out from patches of the crowd. The minotaur seemed unaffected. “This quarantine will last a week, in which we will provide food and shelter for you. If any of you have contracted this disease, you will be treated for it before you can leave. Please follow the designated employees to the quarantine zone. We apologize for your inconvenience.”

The angry buzz of the crowd started to break into serious fighting in a few areas and guards converged on them. The tielfing next to you stood up, slinging a bag over his shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing with his spike-tipped tail. “You don’t want to stay here.”

There was a thud from the nearby crowd and the buzzing of a taser. You took a step back, then turned and hurried after the tiefling. A few of the security officers were leading a group of people through a corridor blocked off with plastic sheeting and you joined them.

“Were you near that woman on the plane?” the tiefling asked as you walked down the hall.

“I don’t remember,” you admitted. You hadn’t paid especially close attention to the passengers around you on the plane. The only thing you could really remember was that she hadn’t been in your row. “Was she near you?”

“Three rows back,” he said. “I recall she was coughing a lot. I didn’t think much of it. The air on a plane is so dry.”

The corridor opened up into a large room. Cots had been set up along the walls, each one with simple white sheets and plain white clothes sitting on it. One of the security guards at the door held out his hand to you. “Your bag, please?”

Both you and the tiefling clutched your bags tighter. The security guard narrowed his eyes. “Your items need to be disinfected. They’ll be returned to you after quarantine.”

“I need my computer,” the tiefling said. The guard looked unmoved.

“You will have your items returned to you after the quarantine,” he repeated. He held out a hand.

You handed your bag over and gave the tiefling a meaningful look. He gritted his teeth, but removed his bag from his shoulder and passed it to the guard. With a nod, you were free to enter the room.

You walked over to one of the beds and sat down on the edge. A doctor wearing one of the contamination suits they wore in disease movies approached you.

“You can step behind the curtains and change,” he said, gesturing to curtained booths toward the back of the room. “We’ll need to disinfect your clothes as well.” You glanced at the tiefling, half-expecting him to protest that as well, but he seemed to have given up on protecting.

“I’m not wedded to these clothes,” he muttered. “You don’t have to give them back.”

He vanished behind one of the curtains and you followed suit. You folded your clothes in the designated corner and changed into the slightly scratchy outfit they had provided. It was about as flattering as a potato sack, made exclusively to cover your modesty and nothing else.

The tiefling was sitting on the bed next to yours by the time you returned. The clothes weren’t doing him any favors either. He’d managed to acquire a notepad in the time you’d been gone and was sketching something with a stumpy pencil.

“What are you drawing?” you asked.

“Trying to come up with ideas for a new logo for a business. I’m supposed to get back to them by Wednesday, which apparently isn’t happening.”

“It’s not like you don’t have a good reason,” you said. The tiefling shrugged.

“They don’t care about my reasons. They care about results. I don’t have any job security. They can fire me for any reason. One of those reasons can be not getting back to them in time.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. There wasn’t much else you could say. The tiefling sketched a few more lines, then grimaced and shoved the paper aside.

“No point. I can’t reference my notes or send this to anyone without my computer,” he said.

“You could think of it as an impromptu vacation,” you suggested. He glared at you.

“Ah, yes. This is the height of luxury,” he muttered, gesturing around the room.

“Yeah, it’s not great,” you agreed. “Not exactly a resort, is it?”

The tielfing chuckled dryly. “No, it is not.” He stretched out on his bed. “I haven’t introduced myself, have I? My name’s Essen.”

You told him your name and the two of you shook hands. “Maybe we shouldn’t be touching so much,” he said as you broke contact.

“It’s airborne, I think,” you said. “We probably already have it if we’re going to get it.”

“What a cheerful thought,” Essen said. He sank back onto the uncomfortable cot. You stared around the room in silence. More people had entered, looking morose and resigned.

“This place is so boring,” Essen complained after a few minutes. “Here.” He offered you the paper, which he’d drawn a tic-tac-toe board on. “Play me.”

You played him to a standstill back and forth a few times before moving on to other games, like Pictionary and one that involved flicking folded paper between fingers held up as goalposts.

Eventually the hazmat-wearing authorities passed out trays of food to you. It was a meager meal that you classed as better than airline food, but only just. Essen glared at the tray as though it had personally insulted every member of his family. As you had learned in the past few hours, it was extensive.

“If they’re keeping us trapped here, the least they can do is offer us decent food,” he said, prodding at it with a fork.

“It’s not that bad,” you said. “I mean, did you really think they were going to give us five-star restaurant food.”

He rolled his eyes and took a tentative bite, mouth twisting. Admittedly, you were having trouble stomaching it too. The mushy vegetables and incredibly overcooked meat weren’t exactly appetizing.

The authorities passed out little toiletry bags after that and you and Essen washed up. He yawned and stretched out in bed, tail twitching. “Good night,” he said. He buried under the thin blanket, covering most of his head with his hands.

You tried to sleep too- there wasn’t much more you could do. But the strange environment and the noises of children crying and people coughing and shifting about made you uncomfortable enough that you couldn’t sleep.

Just as you were finally starting to drift off to sleep, you heard a noise from Essen. You rolled over to look at him. In the dim, indirect light of the room, you could just barely see his expression. It was crumpled, forehead wrinkled and lips drawn up into a snarl. It looked like he was struggling against something. His tail lifted against the blankets, untucking them from the end of the bed. He made a strangled crying noise.

You scrambled out from bed and leaned over him before hesitating. You didn’t want to just wake someone up. Then he let out a whimper and you got over your anxiety.

“Hey!” You took hold of his shoulder and shook gingerly. He woke with a start, scrambling away from you and nearly falling out of the bed himself.

“Sorry,” you said, trying to wave away the curious gazes that fell on you two. “You were making noises in your sleep. Are you okay?”

His skin was too dark to tell if he was blushing, but given the way he shrank back against the bed and averted his gaze, you guessed he was. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he muttered.

“Oh, you didn’t. I wasn’t asleep. I was having trouble falling asleep, actually.” Essen gave a weak smile.

“That’s good. I’m still sorry for disturbing you. I’m fine, though.” He sank back into his cot. There was a stiffness to him, though, that made you a little uncertain.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, a little too quickly. He relaxed into bed and, after a moment, you did the same, eventually falling asleep.

You were served breakfast soon after you woke up and then you were left mostly to your own devices throughout the day. There wasn’t an awful lot to do in the quarantine. They offered you some entertainment, in the form of books and a child-friendly movie playing on a projector, but you still felt restless. Essen apparently felt the same, given the amount of pacing he was doing.

“I’m going to go insane before we get out of here,” he said. “A week? They can’t keep us here for that long.” He tugged at his hair. You could almost hear his teeth grinding.

He was interrupted by someone across the room bursting into thick, rasping coughs. A few of the suited doctors converged on them and, after a moment, they were herded out of the room. Essen dropped onto your cot next to you.

“You’re not feeling sick, are you?” he asked. You shook your head.

“You?”

“No. I feel all right. Aside from the aforementioned boredom.” His tail flicked, tapping against your leg for a moment before whisking back to his side. “You’re handing this a lot better than I am. What’s your secret?”

“Thinking about the stuff at the museum. I figure if I can’t organize it there, I can organize it here. I’ll just do it physically when I get back.”

“How can you organize it if you can’t see where everything is?” he asked.

“I have a photographic memory. I remember exactly where everything was when I left it and the layout of the room, so I can sort things in my head. I can also go over some of the files I read when I left, so I can write up a report on them when I get back.”

He perked up. “Really? That’s amazing. I wish I could do that.”

“It’s not that exciting. I just have a really good visual memory. Anyway, it’s kind of a pain. I can’t reread books or anything because I remember everything that happened in them.”

“But it must still be really useful. You don’t forget anything you read, so you must be able to remember a lot of the details you need for your job.”

“It does make me a really good organizer. I don’t forget where anything is. I could give an entire tour of the museum in my mind probably, because I have the entire layout and all the information memorized,” you laughed. Essen’s eyes went wide.

“Please, would you?” he asked.

“You want me to give you a tour?” you asked. He nodded eagerly. “It’s not going to be that exciting. I can’t actually show you any of the objects we have or anything. I’m not much of an artist, so I can’t draw them or anything.”

“That’s all right. I’ll take anything.” Essen sat back in bed, looking at you expectantly.

By the end of the day, you had managed to get through most of the pre-treaty sections of the museum, with a special focus on the tiefling settlements that had occupied most of the continent.

“Fascinating,” he said over another slightly rubbery dinner. “I never realized exactly how many tiefling civilizations powered themselves with runic magic.”

“Runic magic’s really old school. There’s a big section of the museum dedicated to it. Actually, I wrote my graduate thesis on a few different runes and their speculated uses. It’s really a shame that we don’t know a lot of the runes that were used back then. I was trying to prove that the rune for fire could be activated through combination with the rune for earth using an undetermined connection rune, which would create hot spots in the ground for warming their towns during the winter.”

“Could they be activated together?” Essen asked.

“I didn’t prove it conclusively, but I think I showed a lot of evidence.” You put your tray aside. “It’ll be nice when we can actually head back home. Maybe I can give you an actual tour.”

Essen lounged across his cot, yawning widely. “It’s a date, then.” You could feel your cheeks going warm, and you quickly hurried to the bathroom to wash up for the night.

Again, you had trouble sleeping. Essen seemed to fall asleep immediately, but before you could join him, you heard him groan and roll over in his sleep.

You looked over. His expression was screwed up again, tail lashing with agitation. Hesitantly, you reached over and shook him awake.

“You were, uh. Kind of yelling in your sleep,” you told him. He sat up slowly, breathing in great, gasping gulps. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

He grimaced. “I said I don’t sleep well on planes, but I don’t really sleep well anywhere other than my home,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, but ever since I was a kid, I get nightmares everywhere but my house. It usually takes me a couple of weeks to get used to a new place.”

“I’ve heard of that disorder before,” you said. “When I was researching old tiefling civilizations. You’re probably descended from the guards who watched over their towns at night. You’re having nightmares because your body’s unsettled by the change in location.”

“That’s nice and all, but I don’t really care why it happens. I just want it to stop.” He sagged against his pillow, blinking heavily.

“Scooch over.” He frowned at you, but allowed you to get into bed next to him. “Um. It doesn’t always work and there are some better therapies for it, but in the short term, having a person watch over you while you sleep can help.”

Essen reached up to rest his hand gently over yours. “You don’t mind?”

“No. I don’t.” Your heart pounded in your chest as he nestled closer to you, eyes closing.

“If I have to be quarantined,” he said, “I’m glad that you were here with me.”

“Me too,” you said. His fingers tightened over yours and he gave a quiet sigh of contentment.

[dudeandduchess]

Hi! Can you please do the prompt “Our parents both own highly rated restaurants and they want to merge into a single restaurant… by marrying us.” with kyo? I need that fluff before I start crying from my chem test ORZ ����. Thank you so much for your hard work like usual 🙏😊💖❤️

Hey hey, bby! I know this is most likely really late, but I hope you did amazingly on your chem test. And I hope you like this. 😌✨

Also, I couldn’t stop giggling while writing this; for multiple reasons. Y’all will find out why as you read— and also because that ending is so cute; if I may say so myself. 💜✨✨✨

***

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Our parents both own highly rated restaurants and they want to merge into a single restaurant… by marrying us (Restaurant AU, SFW Scenario):

The tension in the room couldn’t even compare to the tension that (Y/n) felt straining her back. No matter how hard she tried to readjust herself in the plush, velvet chair— that her mother had practically forced her to sit in— she couldn’t quite get comfortable.

It was as if there were numerous pins and needles prickling her skin, and setting her on high alert even though there was no imminent threat; other than the threat of her getting married to a man she barely knew— and had never even seen in her entire life.

“What if he’s absolutely horrible, okaa-san? You’re going to trade in my happiness for your restaurant?” The young woman whined dramatically from her seat at the table, even going as far as to press the back of her hand against her forehead, as she pretended to faint against the back of the chair.

(L/n) Mizuki clicked her tongue at her daughter’s antics, before beckoning her to straighten her head so that she could fix her hair back to the immaculate style that it had been in before she’d mussed it up. “He won’t be horrible. He’s studying economics in ToDai, and I heard that he’s a very well-mannered young man.”

“Great. A stiff, smarty-pants type just like otou-san. You really know how to pick them, okaa-san,” (Y/n) answered dryly, then began laughing as her mother tried to swat at her cheek for talking ill of her own father— even if it was said in jest. “What if he’s not even good in bed? Do I, at least, get to have a free trial?”

“You shut your vulgar mouth, (L/n) (Y/n). I didn’t raise you to be so… uncouth.” Mizuki made a pointing motion at her daughter that turned into a claw, before she closed her right hand into a fist and took a deep breath to control her emotions. She was already tense as it was, and her daughter’s antics weren’t helping. At all.

(Y/n), the brave woman that she was, threw her head back and laughed at her mother’s furious expression. Then, she tossed her hair back over her shoulder, then quirked an eyebrow at the clearly livid older woman. “I’ll make it quick, okaa-san. If he doesn’t last five minutes with me on top, then this marriage is off.”

“Why are you so vulgar?” The (L/n) matriarch groaned in frustration, as she extended her left hand out and flicked her daughter’s forehead. “You’re never returning to live with your cousins again— look at what living with them has done to you.”

“But, okaa-san!” (Y/n) protested halfheartedly, as she had no real intention of pulling through with her words. She loved her mother too much to do that to her; and was merely cracking jokes to get rid of the nerves she felt. “Let’s put it this way… if he can’t make my eyes roll back into my head when we… you know…” 

She quickly scampered up to her heel-clad feet and did a couple of hip thrusts to emphasize her point, but broke down in a huge fit of laughter when she saw the mortified and utterly defeated expression that crossed her mother’s face.

That eliminated all of the tension she felt on her shoulders, as her stomach began to cramp with the intensity of her laughter. Still, she tried to get the words out through her unladylike wheezing, “Then— I want— a divorce.”

“Dear gods, where have I gone wrong in raising my child?” Mizuki muttered under her breath, as she clasped her hands together in front of her chest. She could only shake her head in mild disappointment, as she looked at her daughter— whom was still in the midst of her laughing fit.

And after a while, the young woman’s laughter gradually tapered down— until nothing more than a grin played at her lips. But with that expression firmly in place on her face, she asked her mother teasingly, “Can we have a clause in this engagement about our kinks and whatnot? I mean… if he’s Daddy material, then I’ll definitely be calling him Daddy in be- oh my god.”

(Y/n) couldn’t even continue her sentence after that because, when she looked up at her mother, she saw the face of three people— all of whom sported vibrant blushes on their faces. She could only straighten herself up, before bowing deeply to their guests; her future husband and his parents.

“I’m so sorry, Rengoku-san!” She didn’t even know which Rengoku she was apologizing to, but it seemed appropriate to just apologize to all three of them— so she stayed in the deep bow, while her mother followed her gesture in kind.

“I… it’s no problem at all. We were all young once,” The Rengoku matriarch, whom was holding on tightly to her husband’s hand, smiled kindly at the mother-daughter pair.

Shinjurō tried to fight the smile that threatened to crawl up on his lips, but let the tiniest sliver of it slip through when his wife squeezed his hand and gave him a discreet side glance. “As my wife said, it’s alright. We’re just… surprised, is all. Should we be expecting any grandchildren soon, then?”

The woman beside Shinjurō bit down on her bottom lip to keep her laughter in, then subtly elbowed her husband’s side, before taking a step forward.

“I don’t think I’ve had the opportunity to introduce my wife to you, (L/n)-san. We just got married a few months ago, so she’ll be a big help with planning the wedding. Jen, this is our future business partner— (L/n) Mizuki. (L/n)-san, this is my wife Jen.”

And while that exchange was happening, (Y/n) gradually straightened up from her bow, only to have her eyes connect with the younger Rengoku’s own gaze from across the room— which had both of them pointedly looking away from each other, with a blush on their faces.

*** 

An awkward round of introductions later, everyone sat gathered at a table with sheaves of papers in front of them. The parents kept prattling off words about clauses and sub-clauses, while (Y/n) kept doodling on the small notepad that had been placed on top of her copies of the marriage contract.

To her left sat Kyōjurō— seemingly reading through the contract while following along with their parents’ discussion when, in reality, he kept glancing over at where his fiancée sat beside him.

He couldn’t deny that she looked beautiful, but it wasn’t her mere physical features at that moment that were ingrained in his mind; it was how she had looked so genuinely happy while she laughed at the obscene joke she had made from before that played over and over in his head.

She looked so happy and carefree when he had quietly entered the room with his father and stepmother, that he couldn’t help but stop right in his tracks and take that time to ingrain that moment into his heart.

Kyōjurō wanted to talk to her so badly, but with their parents still prattling off in the background and the short distance between them, he couldn’t do so discreetly. He had tried to attract her attention by clearing his throat, and by inching his hand closer to hers on the table, but all of his attempts had ended in vain— because she seemed so engrossed in whatever she was doodling that she didn’t even take the time to look at him.

However, unbeknownst to him, (Y/n) would often glance over to where he was when she took dainty sips of water from her water goblet. And, each and every time she did so, her heart would race so fast in her chest that she would have no choice but to turn her attention back to the papers in front of her.

Was it possible to love someone from the first meeting alone? That was highly unlikely. But she was sure that she was smitten— extremely taken with his dreamy looks, and that smile that he had shot her way when they had sat down at the table.

He had even been a gentleman and helped her sit down. If that didn’t scream good manners, then she didn’t know what did. But it wasn’t just those things that attracted her to him— it was also the way that he carried himself; with so much dignity and poise that she couldn’t help but want to swoon over him.

Her. Swoon over a man. 

That was a new feeling for her, but she had no choice but to accept it— because, if she was going to get married to the guy, she might as well get used to it.

She looked up slightly from what she was doodling in the corner of the first page of the contract, just to get another glimpse of him— only to blush profusely when their gazes connected. However, instead of shying away like she had before, she gave him a small smile and was rewarded by a tiny grin that made her heart race even faster in her chest.

“Hi,” Kyōjurō whispered softly, as their parents kept on talking about pre-nuptial arrangements and possible photographers to hire for the engagement photos.

(Y/n) couldn’t help but grin at that, as she felt butterflies flutter around inside her stomach. That smile of his was doing so many things to her, and she found that she liked all of them. “Hi yourself.”

“So… want to get out of here?”

As discreetly as she could, the young woman nodded; clearly done with listening to the adults drone on about things that she couldn’t care less about. “Can we go to McDonald’s and get some fries?”

“Anything my wife wants,” Kyōjurō answered just as softly, as he offered his hand out for her to take. She looked at his proffered hand for a few seconds— willing the butterflies in her stomach to calm down— before slipping her hand in his.

And somehow, the warmth that enveloped her hand traveled down to the very tips of her toes— and it felt like coming home. Kyōjurō felt like home.

[theouijaboard-archived]

Séance Live Event 2 - 14.03.2021, 4pm - 7:30pm GMT

When: 11th September, 1888, late night Where: Baba Yaga’s Tent Led By: Baba Yaga Featuring: @hauntedyves, @ishmaelhassan, @lucianriviera, @treadboards, @mvsquerade, @maudxlytton​, @pollysheedy​

Transcript below the cut. The following has undergone minor edits for clarity and continuity’s sake.

Seating plan: Zoya - August - Yves - Polly - Lucian - Ish - Maude - Baba Yaga

Baba Yaga 16:05

Their coming was announced by a dreadful event ; the Friend worked to answer the questions before the darkness ascended, but with the recent occurrences and the slashes of metaphysical claws, she did not need to look the Ball into the Eye to know that the Six are coming - and if it was a lighter situation, perhaps she would’ve played around, toyed with their mood and amused herself with both ignorance and fear oozing from their pores. But, it was a solemn situation and there was no need to sour it further - her appearance, all clad in black lace and her silver hair adorned with silver-and-amethyst pins, black tourmaline and obsidian and onyx hanging from her ears, neck, and clasped around her wrists and long, bony fingers, was enough to put that primal fear in people’s hearts.

“Come all, and enter. Leave your doubts behind you, or walk no further - the doorway opens and if you come here to mock or ridicule, your sanity may soon leave you.” A fair and usual warning, whisper soft murmur echoing through the tent as the people enter. “You are late. Take your seats and let us begin. Be careful to not disrupt the ring of salt behind your chairs. Do not move until all is spoken and answered, and the spirits are laid to rest.” Baba Yaga speaks and the watery gaze softens for a brief moment as she watches the attendees in her tent, fingers curling around the chicken foot hanging from her neck and pressing against her beating heart.

Polly Sheedy 16:09

Polly was terrified beyond belief. None of this gave them any comfort, but they had far too many questions, and too few answers. There were few who could provide them, but Baba Yaga was one. Their eyes fell to the chicken foot, and they felt a little queasy, but dutifully, silently, sank into their seat.

Lucian Riviera 16:10

He took a seat as requested, to the right of Polly and left of Ish, the previous experience had left him with more questions than answers. It had also stirred the notion of an idea he wished to put to the test today when he'd heard of a second reading. An idea he'd planted in Maude's mind at the botanical garden not several days past. Idly he wondered if she would act on his whimsical notion but there was only one way to find out.

Yves Sinclair 16:10

He had desired answers and from the passing words of other, he had heard of possibilities and promises. Not much of a superstitious man, Yves would've been fine all on his own if it weren't for the recent events of death that seemed to linger at the corner of every street. Even his own mind seemed to begin playing games with him as he felt an inkling of strange ... paranoia overcome him. Thus, here he was - ready to follow the directions of Baba Yaga, perhaps she would have answers to the prodding questions in his mind.

Ish Hassan 16:12

Ish was still shaken from the previous encounter with the world beyond the veil. He'd tried to convince himself time and time again that it was all made up nonsense designed to get inside their heads, parlor tricks and games, vague stories that made the hairs on the backs of their arms stand him. He tried to act like none of this was true. He followed the stranger's instructions, taking his seat.

Maude Lytton 16:13

Maude enters the tent, her expression serious and formal, as she did not want to admit to have been convinced of the existence of ghosts by a stranger no less. She sits on the chair and gives a sharp glance at Mr Riviera's direction. She only hopes that the woman doing the séance is not some kind of charlatan, although the chicken feet are a nice touch.

Baba Yaga 16:14

Lips stretch into a smile and the old woman laces her fingers together. “Everyone in attendance remove your gloves, if you have them, and place your hands on the table. If you seek the comfort of another living creature’s touch, you may join hands with the people sitting beside you. With the outwardly placed circle, contact is not necessary for the communication to flow.” Baba Yaga’s smile disappears, head tilting to the side, as if she’s listening to a noise behind her - slowly, she turned, and the misty gaze fixes upon the First, upon Yves ; “You, boy! Ask us.”

Ish Hassan 16:26

He felt no need to hold hands with anyone. At least Baba Yaga didn't require it of them, so he placed his hands on the table, remaining quiet as he listened to the young man ask his questions.

Yves Sinclair 16:17

While the others appeared to react in fear, Yves was nonetheless intrigued - his curiosity had certainly piqued, gaze fixated a bit on the strangeness of the chicken feet. There were so many questions racing through his head and yet, which one was he to ask? It was as if his throat was caught but he finally managed to utter the words, "Who is it that is here?" Perhaps it was a foolish question but surely, there must be an identity to those who lingered from the otherworld. He wanted names, identities to put upon the faceless entities.

Baba Yaga 16:20

Eyes glazed over, the old witch smiles. "Wrong questions you ask, Yves. Who? Perhaps a what would be more suited."

Yves Sinclair 16:23

Of course there would be mysteries upon mysteries to something as strange and unthinkable of the supernatural. It would be too easy to receive an answer he mused. He pursed his lips to ask yet another question but paused - perhaps this time he'd make an attempt to sound less like an imbecile. "Then the ghost ... I believe there is one that has had the ill fortunate of attaching itself to me, pray - what for? Why?"

Baba Yaga 16:25

The woman's smile widens, a distortion of warmth ; of rot and madness intertwined. "For your sanity."

Polly Sheedy 16:28

If they had been scared upon entering, that feeling only worsened as proceedings began. Polly let out a tiny, almost imperceptible squeak, wide eyes darting between Yves and the old witch.

Zoya Fox 16:32

Zoya had to give it the old witch -- the lace, the jewels, her clothing seemingly woven from night itself all worked in her favor. Zoya was not a skeptical woman, but she still had to credit someone's performance in the face of many who seemed not to believe.

Zoya was not a fearful woman, either, though perhaps she should've been as her gaze darted curiously between Yves and Baba Yaga.

Yves Sinclair 16:30

He nearly snorted, what sanity was there for someone like him? Certainly the dead would have better judgement but perhaps that was an overestimation. "Then what of the girl? Chapman I believe, is she present? Perhaps she may unearth the truth of her ill fated passing." Yves wanted a hard fact, anything to show proof that this was truly, real.

Baba Yaga 16:34

Head tilts to the side, watery eyes glazed with something akin to mirth, and then she speaks. "Such rotten mind you have! Little Annie might be dead and buried, but why do you think she'd answer to you? Better still, why do you think we will let her speak? Her soul has not departed, but a place she haunts is not here."

Yves Sinclair 16:36

A part of him almost smiled, surely rotten was an understatement - his mind was akin to filth in some shape or form. "Poor girl must have something to say if she's rationale enough to seek justice ... it all seems so strange," he muttered. "And the man, perhaps she could speak of him. Where is that man?" Yves gaze was fixed. He wanted a story.

Maude Lytton 16:37

Maude frowns, not liking this new information, not liking it at all. These ghosts enjoyed playing with their questions and attention then? She also hoped, naively, that the poor woman was in a better place. Perhaps an afterlife or maybe even oblivion would be better than become a haunting. She attempts to give Polly a comforting smile, very probably failing.

Lucian Riviera 16:38

Now that was interesting, but the place she haunts is not here? Baba Yaga seemed to provide more insight than Muiris' vague responses. But did that mean they would have to conduct a séance around the space of where the recently departed's demise had occurred?

Baba Yaga 16:38

The smile drops and it's exchanged with a frown. She sniffs, as if she's been crying, before her expression turns to rage and the witch growls ; “Away, away he went - they never stay once the deed is done.”

Polly Sheedy 16:40

They caught Maude's eye, offering a shaky, half-smile that didn't reach their eyes. Had they been sat beside her, they would have no qualms about gripping her hand tightly on the table. Every question, and every answer, was hitting far too close for comfort.

Zoya Fox 16:41

She frowns at the answer, instinctively leaning closer in interest. How intriguing. How foreboding.

Yves Sinclair 16:40

The new information was something. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath for the answer. "The deed ... so you can confirm that he is the culprit?" He wished he had brought a notepad to jot it all down but then again, he had yet to see evidence with his own eyes. Was he buying into it all so quickly with the ravings of a seemingly mad woman?

Baba Yaga 16:42

Watery eyes fix upon the boy and the corners of her mouth quick into another smile. "Someone is. But, it is not the one you suspect, little boy."

Yves Sinclair 16:44

A quizzical look flashed upon Yve's fair features. "I'm not exactly the brightest," he muttered or so were the words of his father. Yves glanced over at the others. Surely one of them would have some more insight. "So then the culprit remains free and on the prowl?"

Baba Yaga 16:47

The witch's expression softens, but it wasn't her who spoke. "Brighter than you think. Though, perhaps, it is safer for you to remain dim witted." A grin stretches her lips, and then she nods - pure excitement radiating off her. "Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes! Free and hungering for more blood, sweet boy!"

Yves Sinclair 16:50

"Dumb and free is better than clever and dead I suppose," he murmured. The confirmation was expected but it still sent chills down his body. "Then all I have left to ask is if these ghosts that haunt, are they merely bored perverts?" A mischievous grin appeared on his visage, a part of him nearly laughed (wholly inappropriate) but everyone else appeared so grim it was truly as if they were in attendance of a funeral.

Polly Sheedy 16:51

despite their fear, the utter terror that gripped their heart, Polly spluttered a little, the first genuine smile coming to their face since they left the Britannia a week before.

Lucian Riviera 16:52

It was only just that Lucian stifled a snort at the young man's retort, he'd been raked over hot coals by this spirit but it seemed he could give as good as he got. Commendable by all accounts if a little unwise to taunt the dead.

Ish Hassan 16:55

Ish's eyes widened, unable to hold a stoic reaction around the young man. He'd been working around the docks most of his life, so few things could surprise him, but there was something to the unparalleled confidence of Yves that took him off-guard.

Baba Yaga 16:53

The expression falls, and the gaze turns stormy, but a gleeful grin plays on her lips. "We are not chained by the same rules that chain you. We are here to drink. To eat. Though our sustenance comes from your sanity. Now i have a question for you, little boy. How long do you think you can hold onto yours?"

Zoya Fox 16:56

Like Lucian and Polly, she also stifled a short laugh, eyes glimmering with amusement. Finally, someone brash enough to shake up the bleak atmosphere. The amusement faded from her features as a voice spoke once more, and she wondered vaguely just what sort of demons were haunting Yves.

Yves Sinclair 16:57

For all his faults, he was a rather honest boy. "Not long." But if he were to truly lose it all, he'd certainly go out with a bang. "But the mania could be fun," he pondered the idea for a moment, how much more of a family disappointment could he really be sounded like the true challenge of the question. He had said his share and now it was up to the rest of the lot.

Baba Yaga 16:59

The smile widens for a brief moment - then the head tilts to the side, listening, listening. The curtain moves and the old woman laughs - but, the laughter does not belong to her. The moment of minute insanity passes and she takes a sip of a strong, spiced liquor in front of her, before the expression turns apologetic, sliding from Yves towards another ; and a giggle erupts from her when the Second and Third come hand in hand - but, it is to the Second she turns first, the owner of Britannia. “What do you seek to unravel?”

Ish Hassan 17:01

He had known that Baba Yaga would call upon him, and somehow he was still unprepared for it. He couldn't help but be conscious of the other sets of eyes and ears in the room. The things he wanted to ask weren't exactly things he wanted to say in front of the others, but that was the nature of the beast (no pun intended). "When I asked how you died, you said who's to say I lived. If you didn't live, then what exactly are you?"

Baba Yaga 17:04

The woman laughs, and the feeling that washes over her is giddy ; almost teasing. “Who is to say I have never lived? All that is alive will one day die.” Then the expression drops and something sombre takes over her. "Yet not all that is dead had once lived. I am dead - and dead I will remain."

Yves Sinclair 17:05

The concept of something that wasn't truly alive but not entirely dead sounded like nonsense in its entirety. For all Yves could put together, this entity could've been as trivial as an ant. Their gaze remained on Ish as they wondered what otherworld being chose to latch unto him.

Polly Sheedy 17:06

they had to hold back the shiver that ran up their spine. To talk of ghosts was one thing - the dead had been people too once. But Yves first, and then Ish, spoke of something else, a different matter entirely. Baba Yaga's answer puzzled them, unable to make sense of the riddles in the words of the spectre.

Lucian Riviera 17:06

As the attention in the room shifted to Ish he naturally reached for his cane, discreetly unscrewing the handle and returning the blackwood to rest against the arm of his seat. The handle remained in his palm, upended and a cap flicked open, tonight was certainly proving more insightful he thought as he took a sip of the contents though Ish's spectre seemed unwilling to provide anything of true note.

Ish Hassan 17:08

He felt all their eyes upon him, the penetrating gaze of intense curiosity, of perhaps fear. He wet his lips with his tongue, keeping his hands flat on the table in a conscious effort not to toy with them awkwardly. The answer gave him nothing. "Do you know who is responsible for the Whitechapel Murders?"

Maude Lytton 17:10

For once she is distracted by something, she looks at Mr Riviera drinking in the middle of a séance and talk of murders. If she forced her empathy, she would understand the need for something stronger in a stressful situation, but still

Lucian Riviera 17:10

The shift in his curiosity is immediate and there is no helping the way his eyes flicker over to Maude, a small expression that might very well mimic the implication of I told you so reflected in the bright intensity of his gaze.

Polly Sheedy 17:10

their breath hitches in their throat, eyes locked on Ish. They were almost certain that he was dangerous - was he asking to discern the answer, or to find out how much he himself had to hide?

August Palmer 17:10

August’s role as an actor was to untangle words, not make them. He considered briefly sending the riddle to his brother—the academic one, ever eager for a puzzle. The mention of the Whitechapel Murders broke his thought. He watched closely.

Baba Yaga 17:09

The witch's head tilts to the side, watery eyes fixing upon the man - and her smile widens. "Yes."

Zoya Fox 17:12

her eyes widen at baba's proclamation, but she supposed it'd be too much to actually reveal the killer's identity. it'd surely make maude's job much easier.

Ish Hassan 17:11

Was that it? Ish narrowed his eyes, brows knitting together as he looked upon the woman, the vessel. "That's really all you're going to say about it?" He scoffed, shaking his head. He wanted to ask is it me? but he didn't dare, especially in front of the others. "Where do you go when you're not with me?"

Baba Yaga 17:12

The woman giggles in amusement. "Yes." ; but, then her smile widens and it dances between mirth, and wickedness, and madness. "I never leave you."

Maude Lytton 17:13

Once again she stops her desire to stare suspiciously at Mr Hassan. Just a slight glance, with her memorising his expression and the entity's words. She's going to have to talk with him at some point in next days.

Ish Hassan 17:14

Well, that was fucking horrifying. A cold chill made its way down Ish's spine, hairs standing on end on the arms beneath his jacket. He was quiet a moment, unsure how much further to go, unsure whether he wanted the answers, but unable to keep himself from asking the questions. "Are you the reason I've been having blackouts?"

Zoya Fox 17:15

her gaze slides briefly to ish in curiosity. another ghost with an attachment—the dead were awfully obsessive. but what was the owner of the brittania hiding that called the spirit to him so? blackouts?

Polly Sheedy 17:15

Blackouts? That was.. interesting to say the least. It did little to turn off the gut feeling they had about Ish, the sensation that he could hurt them, but perhaps it explained the moments of kindness they felt in between.

Lucian Riviera 17:16

His attention on Maude was enough to pick up the glance in Ish's direction, all focus on him true but this gave him the impression of something else. He'd known Ish a long time, long enough that he had faith in the man despite his strange demeanor of late. But his latest question... Black outs? Well, that was interesting to say the least.

Maude Lytton 17:16

Blackouts? the man who acted was too much nervous near authorities and had a dead being imply dangerous things, had blackouts

Yves Sinclair 17:18

Blackouts? well Yves could relate to a certain degree. After all, he had it happen several times when he had a bit too much booze and was out on the streets promenading and doing all the things a rake enjoyed doing. Maybe Ish was like him. But judging from the man's reactions, something told Yves otherwise.

Baba Yaga 17:16

She laughs, something high pitched and ringing of triumph. "Ah, so you do know what questions to ask! Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! And they will never cease!" She laughs again, cold eyes fixed upon the poor, young man.

Lucian Riviera 17:19

He had little intention to call upon the child that seemed to have opted to return to him today. He had questions, and at the response sat forwards a little in his seat eyes burning with intense curiosity.

Polly Sheedy 17:20

They felt utterly sick to their stomach, head shaking from side to side as though trying to prevent the woman's words from reaching their ears. For the first time, they felt a pang of sympathy for Ish. Being haunted was disturbing enough but this ... there was nothing about this that any sane person could handle

Ish Hassan 17:20

He remained motionless and quiet for several moments. He was certain he could feel his heart hammering away in his chest, echoing in his ears. He was frozen, and could only stare at his own hands so as not to make eye contact with anyone else in the room.

August Palmer 17:22

August made a mental note to steer clear of the Britannia for a little while, or perhaps the East End altogether.

Baba Yaga 17:22

To the Third she now looks, and the expression shifts into something warmer, before it fades, confusion briefly evident on her face as she takes a long sip of the drink, fueling her vision, eyeing Lucian. “You are strange. They like you, but they don’t like you. Speak, and let us answer.”

Yves Sinclair 17:24

And he thought he was indecisive, seemed like this ghost had commitment issues like him. Well it was nice the dead were relatable, made sense given they were once human too.

Lucian Riviera 17:25

His smile was wry at that, "well, they wouldn't be the only ones to be conflicted on that account," his head tilted thinking of the strange spirit that had seemingly chosen to attach itself to Ish. It sounded crazed, like the stories of souls he’d heard were confined to the walls of Bedlam not but several miles from here. The revelation lingered and he had questions his eyes darted briefly aside to his accomplice who was looking at anything but any other person in the room. “I wish to speak to the spirit bothering Mister Hassan, for how long is it that you have kept him company?”

Ish Hassan 17:27

Ish stared at Lucian. No, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. "What are you doing?" he asked in a desperate whisper to Lucian. "Don't speak to it..."

Baba Yaga 17:26

She turns and the grin returns. "Forever."

Lucian Riviera 17:28

His attention remained fixed on Baba Yaga as Ish spoke up, but his expression was resolute, determined. "I find that hard to believe considering how long I've known the man," his posture straightened, hands clasping together around the flask in front of him as he leaned on the table. "What business is it that keeps you from moving on or do you just enjoy torturing good people?"

Yves Sinclair 17:29

He wondered how many of people would be interested in a good ol drink after all this. He wondered if it was even possible for a ghost to properly haunt should they all be caught in a drunk stupor.

Baba Yaga 17:31

The smile remains wide and the teeth appear sharp - sharper than they are. “What keeps us all from moving on, Lucian? Dead or alive, what difference does it make? Resentments and pain, delight and madness. We all feed from what you give us.” She pauses and then the cold eyes fix upon Lucian's. "You've known him long but I've claimed him longer. You feels us and you don't feel us. You dance to tunes we play, when we play them." The smile widens again ; "There are no good people, Lucian."

Lucian Riviera 17:35

The reasoning the ghost provided made sense, which meant that in order to sort this situation for any of them they would just have to cut this thing off. Starve it out into exposure and deal with it then. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that, there are some good people in this world," his eyes narrowed a fraction, "do we have anything to fear from you?"

Polly Sheedy 17:36

They frowned. They would never disagree out loud, too afraid of angering the spirits that joined them, but on that front, they could not agree. If there were no good people, then what was the point to anything? They were grateful to Lucian for voicing everything they were thinking, and shot him a look of appreciation.

Ish Hassan 17:43

He wasn't convinced he was 'good people', but Lucian's defense of him was rather touching. He might have been a thief, liar and cheat, but Lucian was also a pretty good friend. It would have been comforting, had there been anything in this situation that would allow Ish to be comforted at all. Of course they had something to fear. They should all be terrified.

  Baba Yaga 17:37

The witch smiles. "If there are, you are not one of them." Head tilts to the side and she the razor sharp grin returns. "Undoubtedly."

Lucian Riviera 17:40

The chuckle that follows is quiet albeit rueful, "ah, so kind of you to give your judgement of a stranger but you didn't answer my question."

Maude Lytton 17:41

Interesting that the entity thought of Mr Riviera as a bad man, wasn't he known for his philanthropy? What would make it have this opinion? It could be also theorised that the ghost was lying, no matter how much suspicious Mr Hassan looked like

Zoya Fox 17:47

when hardly anyone saw through lucian, this ghost did. yes, lucian had helped her as a young girl, but he was certainly not a saint.

  Polly Sheedy 17:48

The assessment of Lucian was another thing Polly did not agree with. They let out a small cough, a frown appearing on their face. "I think otherwise," they said in a half of a whisper.

  Lucian Riviera 17:50

Lucian made no claim of good intentions, other people simply did that for him. The church was one such example, he'd been commended and applauded for the act but he'd never claimed responsibility for ever doing it for anyone else. Did he refute them? No. But who was he to correct them either? It was their fault and err in making false assumptions about him in the first place after all. He was many things a good man, certainly not, but also not the worst by far. Glanced at Polly, giving them a small nod of acknowledgement. "Kind of you to say kid," he said under his breath.

  Baba Yaga 17:42, 17:51

"Did I not? You asked us if you should fear us. Undoubtedly, you should."

The laughter erupts from the old woman again, and with another drink between the spirits, she turns to the next unfortunate soul and her grin widens ; “All the world’s a stage, but answers have never been staged. Ask us away, August.”

August Palmer 17:55

"... And all the men and women merely players." August manages an uneasy smile. The line was one of the first he learnt but he puts it down to coincidence. "I hope it won't offend to ask after my death scenes. How do they fare?" Rahat’s corpses were one thing, but the chance to speak to a real source, or at least someone versed in death—he supposed even mystic frauds have to be—was difficult to resist. Zoya could listen too, since there was talk of renewing her Desdemona. She wouldn’t thank him, of course, but such was the burden of a selfless mentor.

Baba Yaga 17:56

She looks at the man, head tilted to the side, but she does not smile as she speaks. “Overplayed. There is no romance in dying, there is no glorification in feeling your life seep away from you, like sand from a broken hourglass.”

Zoya Fox 18:01

overplayed! oh, if she could burst into gleeful laughter, she would. even august palmer isn't impervious to the criticism from the dead. she sends him a sympathetic smile instead.

August Palmer 18:00

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Your sort of death doesn’t sell tickets, though, unfortunately. Audiences see enough of it.” There is no detectable malice in his words. August sounds almost apologetic. “Who are you?”

Baba Yaga 18:02

She looks at him and the teasing tone returns to her voice - thought it sounds sharper, higher pitched. “Why does it matter? Must you name a thing to know it? Let us say I am a spectator in you badly written play, watching it all crumble and unfold.”

August Palmer 18:02

August winces, barely perceptible. His nails have dug into the cut on his palm, hard enough to break the scab. He hadn’t even noticed. Zoya feels suddenly very close—too close. He keeps his eyes trained on Baba Yaga’s chicken foot. “What do you want from me?” The question comes out steady, and he is thankful for it.

Baba Yaga 18:04

They like that this one goes straight to the point - no dancing around and tiptoeing around the topic. She smiles, but it is a sad smile. “To feed. Death is dry and it burns our throats.”

Ish Hassan 18:05

Ish didn't quite understand the actor's thoughts or point of view. He couldn't fathom being a performer. He preferred to keep to himself, but he remained alert, listening as best he could, though still perturbed by his own haunting.

Zoya Fox 18:07

she catches him wince and thinks, see, you are not unshakeable. there's something bittersweet about the witch's words—zoya would not like to see august fall for her to rise, but if that is how it must be, then let him crumble.

August Palmer 18:11

“Ah.” There was little else to say to that. August had certainly felt the press of vulture’s wings more acutely of late, sometimes even beside him, and 'the devourer becoming the devoured' had an attractive irony to it. Still, real life didn't work like the stage. This time he was thankful for it. “Before you polish me off, is there a message for us?” He asked.

Baba Yaga 18:13

The expression turns sympathetic and the razor sharp smile softens. “Beware the coming days. Not all is how it seems. Wood rots from within.”

August Palmer 18:17

The words made August falter. Another riddle, though this one was a little clearer to him than the last. He felt a strange wave of gratitude to the ghost, which surprised him, then a nausea. He leant back in his chair. "Well, that's me done."

Baba Yaga 18:18

Murky eyes turn towards the next, the detective extraordinaire, and once agains she laughs, drinking the contents of her glass and filling it again - they are thirsty ; and it is best they did not feed off her. “Speak, child.”

Maude Lytton 18:19

Pausing a few seconds to gather her thoughts, Maude turns her head towards the woman, refusing to call her even in her thoughts as "Baba Yaga". She already had her questions in mind and so she starts with a simpler one. "Who are you then? what is your name, if you even have one or remember it" she can't help but think that a simply answer is going to be hard to get, however she must start somewhere. If it is a ghost then it was a person, so nothing more proper than asking this thing its damn name.

Baba Yaga 18:21

She looks at the woman and the expression turns to one of pain. “I am the one who lurks in the shadows. I am the one who watches over you, when all others are dead and gone. Damnatio memorie follows me. Damnatio memorie forbids me to speak of it, though I do remember it. But you may call me as you please.”

Maude Lytton 18:25

Now the ghost is speaking latim, Maude ponders. She will not name it, refuses to do it and give it power somehow, even this she knows. Maude will remember its words of guardianship, not knowing how to feel about this.

"Are you the cause of the flickering lights of my lights, then? i sincerely hope you don't desire my death too. i believe death by fire is not particularly a good way to go." she starts almost amused, her attempts of initiating a dialogue feeling silly. Why would the damn ghost mess with her lamps? A child crying for attention it was not. However she attempts to make what's nearly a joke, not letting her guard down for a second. This thing was not human anymore and it most certainly wasn't bound by things like morals, it wanted something and would try to get it from her. Perhaps she should feel lucky to not have died in a fire and be the on the other side of  the séance.

Baba Yaga 18:27

The witch blinks, and a smile returns to her lips. Ah! She is the smart one. “Yes. The power of it belongs to me.” then, a brief pause, before the spirit adds ; “You will not perish in fire.”

Lucian Riviera 18:28

The theatre goers in the room were certainly a cause for entertainment, but somehow Lucian's interest is piqued by the discomfort of the detective. These séances were proving so much more enlightening than he'd ever thought possible. The Latin he recognises but its meaning is unfamiliar though clearly this spirit has wisdom in its years. Who is it from her life he wonders, does she know?

Maude Lytton 18:31

Staring defiantly at the woman, she's not going to get honest answers, it is are capable of lying even if the woman before her is not a charlatan. It probably enjoy holding all the cards, enjoying their confusion and fear. She refuses to give it this pleasure. It's too nice, too polite, all the previous ghost didn't bother to hide their harming intentions, why would she think otherwise of this one? Either is a poor soul or it's something more malicious and smart enough to play nice. "What are your intentions? do you want anything of me?" not knowing where it stands is one of the most troubling this, so she hopes it's also greedy for something, else why would it be spending effort to talk to her?

Baba Yaga 18:32

She clicks her tongue, as if disappointed. And it thought the detective was smart. “I do not wish you death, for you are of no use to me dead. But, have you not been paying attention? All of us dead desire the same thing.”

Maude Lytton 18:36

"You desire my suffering then? Me crawling in fear? Your hunger for any feeling or sensations must have addled your ghostly brain. You'll not find me so easily scared" she snaps, knowing very well her words are half-truths, she is scared, although not of ghosts.

She makes an effort to not glance at Mr Riviera, not surprisingly, she feels irritated enough to coat her words with sharpness. She did not enjoyed being toyed with, the ones who played around with their answers thinking themselves too smart to say the truth ended having her fully attention, not because she approved of it, but because she would not let it go until her questions had answers. At this point she felt surrounded by these type of persons. And she must compromise, she needs clues, leads, any tips and this is the truth she doesn't want to admit to herself or to anyone. So she let herself be convinced my that man. "A particular man convinced me of the ludicrous idea of making inquiries about the poor women's murders. Will you answer my questions clearly or I will require a specialist to decipher your choice of words?" she stress the last words, challenging the ghost.

Lucian Riviera 18:38

There was no way of suppressing the slight grin that comes knowingly with his reference, instead he masks it by taking a sip of his drink his eyes tracking back to Baba Yaga for her response. They had little else to lose after all, and why not use the dead to their advantage if they had knowledge of pertinence?

Baba Yaga 18:38

She smiles - like a mother would smile to a child throwing a tantrum. But, the ghost chooses to latch onto the other portion of the questions. “We do not speak of another that is dead. If you want to know of it, you must ask her.”

Maude Lytton 18:45

Feeling both exhausted and angry, Maude feels small. It's not something she's prepared to and how hateful it is to allow this parasite of a ghost to feel any of her dark emotions. It doesn't answer her question, she notices it and expects it, but still, it's not the first time she desires the supernatural ability to punch this thing. Her mouth opens a little and then closes, her hesitation obvious. Asking for help with ghosts is ridiculous and a complete failure of her part, but she *must *have answers. What's dignity if even a word could help her stop the killer? She even doesn't care if the ghosts attempts to feed of her emotions, let it try, she only wants the killer caught.

"Would you know where to find the suspect that was with the last victim before her death?" she finally asks, not wanting to remember Annie Chapman, afraid of saying her name and invoking the memories of her body, the pool blood.

Baba Yaga 18:46

The woman tilts her head and nods, once. “I would.”

Lucian Riviera 18:47

There is a delightful sense of triumph that comes upon hearing that response. The warm fire of recognition and being proven right. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.

Maude Lytton 18:49

"And you will not tell me it she finishes, a bitter smile decorating her face. "Perhaps the next séance, if you're feeling more generous, parasite"

Baba Yaga 18:50

The ghost that speaks through her makes an abrupt departure and Baba Yaga laughs again, fingers curling around the glass as she takes another long sip of the drink - and it turns to the Third again, and the Final one. “It is not your turn again, you’ve spoken already!” she almost yells, then turns to the young waif. “Speak, dear.”

Polly Sheedy 18:53

Polly had fallen silent as proceedings had gone on, almost hoping to fly by unnoticed. For a moment, they dared to hope it worked. Alas, Baba Yaga seemed to have other ideas. "Um..." they sat a little straighter, hands trembling where they rested on the table, voice husky with fear. They reflected on what had been happening to them, the voices they had relied on to keep them safe. They had nothing to fear from those spirits - but there was nothing to say they were present tonight. "I suppose I would like to know ... am I in danger? From this - this killer?" They pause for a moment, and add as an afterthought. "Thank you."

Baba Yaga 18:54

She smiles, and it is a sad smile. "Yes, you are in danger. But, not only does the ripper threaten you."

Polly Sheedy 18:57

a sharp intake of air, and Polly is silent for a moment, eyes darting around the circle in a sudden state of mistrust of everybody in it. Their face pales, taking on an almost grey colour. "I've heard spirits." They confess, looking once more upon Baba Yaga, sure they know of what they speak. "I know they protect me, somehow. Warn me of the danger. I just want to know why me? Why not Annie Chapman or the others?"

Lucian Riviera 19:00

Warn her of danger? Interesting. It seems as though Polly had been holding back that little nugget of information. And if they warned her, that meant they must be able to sense the Ripper's presence... It certainly made Polly's situation far more unique than he'd initially anticipated.

Baba Yaga 18:59

The solemn look returns, but the gaze remains soft. “I pity you. You keep choosing wrongly.” It pauses, then relents ; "All living things must walk their path. We send out our warnings, but not many listen."

Polly Sheedy 19:03

The urge to clamp their hands over their ears was only intensifying with every word. It was one thing to be confronted by unintelligible whispers in their ear. To hear the words so clearly was another, even if they couldn't make sense of the warnings. Choice? That was one thing they wasn't sure had ever been in their grasp. "Does that mean the other victims heard as I have?" If that was so, they didn't want to think about what that might mean for their future - or lack of. "I am grateful. For the protection of your warnings." They wanted to make thay clear - lest the whispers stop, leaving them fumbling in the dark.

Baba Yaga 19:05

Watery eyes turn to a soft mist, silver sheen coating them. “No. They refused to listen. To see."

Lucian Riviera 19:06

It was easy to spot the distress Polly was currently experiencing, and naturally whether out of a state of genuine care or something more dubious he reached aside and gently touched the back of their hand. A silent gesture of support in trying times. He could be many things, but he wasn't completely heartless.

Polly Sheedy 19:10

they jumped a little at the unexpected touch, but upon realising it came from Lucian, let out a sigh of relief. There was a comfort in the gesture, drawn from a time long ago when he alone had been their source of protection. Tears slipped thick and fast down their cheeks, the sorrow in Baba Yaga's eyes wrapping tightly around their heart. "I'm sorry." They spoke as softly as they dared. "These warnings... do they come from people like me? Like Annie Chapman? Is that what you are?"

Baba Yaga 19:11

Head tilts to the side as she watches the waif. "No. I protect you, but others failed to listen to their own. All lay in graves they've made for themselves."

Polly Sheedy 19:13

They nod their head a little. There's a warning in their words, a plea to listen. They know that is a fate they could share - but this is their one armour, the sole thing that could save their life. "I'm grateful to you," they need them to know that, to know that they trust their guidance. "And I will listen. I promise."

Baba Yaga 19:15

Head inclines into a soft nod, and there is a softer smile on her lips than before - but, then she turns to Lucian again and the expression turns to a light growl. "Ask us then."

Lucian Riviera 19:16

His expression masked the way his mind raced, connecting tangents and notions together in an intricate web far grander than any of them in the room. A path constructed of ideals, methods of advancement. Yet when he spoke his voice is soft, sombre even for he takes no pleasure from these deaths, and his question when spoken is more an offer to the departed than any formal request, “what is it that we can do to help you?

Baba Yaga 19:18

The question has not come as a surprise - nothing surprises it. But, the expression softens once more as the witch - and the thing she speaks for - studies Lucian. “Not all of us need helping, boy.”

Lucian Riviera 19:21

The thief inclines his head in deferment to the authority in the room that is both the spirit and vessel through which it speaks. He is not so prideful that he will not defer to higher powers should they come knocking and right now they rattled the very foundation of every aspect of this reality. "Perhaps not but everyone needs something," his eyes lift once more, "do you have a message to pass on to those in the room?"

Baba Yaga 19:22

She inclines her head into a deep nod again, and watery eyes skim every single soul in attendance. “There will not be a happy end - but all things end. After one horror there will come another. Prepare yourselves, for the ending is nowhere in sight. There cannot be a happy end, not for some of you.”

Polly Sheedy 19:25

the message isn't a prospect that polly wanted to hear. At the confirmation there are more horrors to come, they whimper, hand rising to cover their mouth.

Lucian Riviera 19:26

Ominous, certainly but the message isn't surprising to Lucian. He thinks for a moment, only one further thought comes to mind. The phrasing of which is particular and deliberate. "Will you be willing to help us find the one responsible if they are known to you?" he pauses to give weight to his next addendum "to keep those at risk safe?"

Polly Sheedy 19:29

they leaned forward, hardly daring to breathe. This question seemed so important, and they felt a rush of gratitude to Lucian for asking it, for doing what he could and keeping them safe.

Baba Yaga 19:30

She pauses, head tilted to the side. "I would be willing, if help is what you desire, but others may not be of shared sentiment. But, if I help you will owe us a favour."

They laugh, both voices intertwining - hers and the ghost's - and then they are no more. Baba Yaga finishes the glass, murky eyes closing as the bony fingers curl around the chicken’s foot around her neck. A long exhale interrupts the silence that’s enveloped the room, and the witch opens her eyes to look at the attendees. “They are gone and they wish to speak no more. I hope your questions have been answered, for tonight they will yield nothing more.”

                                                —- FIN —-