#it doesn't sound like the recipients knew it was happening

[palmtreepalmtree]

The human ego really knows no bounds.

[stxrvel]

hate is a strong word

summary: you hated Bucky and you were convinced that he hated you back. until one time he was talking to you and it started to sound... lovely? what was happening?

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: 6k

warnings: some bad words, a lot of arguments, a HUGE flashback, a little bit of angst i think? bucky and reader insult each other, reader doesn't like to listen, bucky is easily angered, bucky likes to destroy things when he gets angry but regrets it easily, this is not exactly a healthy relationship(? descriptions of weapons, missiles and buildings being bombed, reader is also very stubborn and likes to put her life at risk… or so.

note: hi guys!! so i came back and i am kinda proud of this one. i think i haven't felt that way in a long time. i gave myself the time to write when i felt like it and it was wonderful, so this came out. also i put the poll for a whole week and i can't change it now >:(, but i think this onsehot fits the angst with a happy ending (im not sure if this fits the angst tho, you gotta tell me) but im gonna try to do something else that fits the vibe, and i'll probably do some other poll to write about someone else. (also i think i should warn you guys that i dont think im that good writing action scenes or tension scenes, so if that's bad i hope you forgive me): anyway, hope you guys like this one!! i love reading your comments so if you want and can, please leave some <33 love you all and see you next time!

part 2

Bucky was really pissing you off too much at that moment. Or maybe you were feeling a little uncomfortable.

He hadn't spoken a single word to you since you had arrived at that tiny house, only shrugged silently and then exploded. You had seen Bucky explode several times before and you admitted that watching him was somewhat entertaining; seeing the faces of frightened people, trying to flee away from his angry face and destructive hands, but physically forced to stand by and listen to his scolding. You used to have fun with that. However, at the time, when you were the extreme recipient of that anger, it wasn't so much fun.

You had already heard a couple of broken glass, shattered wood and metal containers fall to the ground. Maybe five minutes or so had passed and he was barely pausing to look at his artwork. It wasn't too much that he had taken and thrown while you had stayed in the room, but it had all sounded very loud, so you had no choice but to go out and see what he was doing.

You were leaning against the threshold of the hallway to the bedrooms, right across from the living room and kitchen. Bucky looked like he had just finished getting all his anger out when he finally stood silently. He probably thought you were asleep while he was doing all that, as if that sound couldn't wake you up. Was he really that angry about what you had done? You mean, yes, it was very risky, but there you were alive, weren't you?

You felt the best thing you could do was to stay quiet and wait for him to say or do something, because you could risk that angry outburst really coming down in your face. For that moment he had only taken it out on the house, which had nothing to do with your problems, and you didn't want the arguments to start filling the silence that followed his stillness.

But, well, you didn't always do the right thing. That's why you were in that situation in the first place.

“Are you done yet?” you signed your sentence.

Bucky had a tense posture, squared shoulders moving in rhythm with his accelerated breathing. His back was to you, staring at the kitchen counter that had been left completely empty. You knew by the way he was clasping his hands that he was trying to maintain his composure.

“Are you serious?” his voice came out hoarse, a sign of his growing anger.

Maybe you should have stopped there, or when he continued to not turn to look at you, but you just couldn't keep your mouth shut.

“What's your problem, Barnes? Yes, I took a chance, but it's not that big of a deal. It's not for this,” you pointed to the mess around you, even though he wasn't looking at you.

“It's not a big deal, you say?” Bucky moved and you felt yourself watching his angry figure move in slow motion. “What's your problem?”

His beady eyes met yours. You felt a little intimidated by the ripples of annoyance coming off his body, filling the entire room with an unbearable, suffocating tension. His scowl and that strangely calm tone of voice made your hair stand on end.

None of the pieces of glass or splintered wood on the floor looked as dangerous as that expression on Bucky's face. He looked very angry, yes, but there was also something in his eyes when he looked at you. Something like concern… but that was impossible.

“Really, Y/N, what's your problem? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Now, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I was the mission leader!” his voice rose, his body moving forward as he pointed his index finger at himself. “And you were supposed to follow my orders.”

“I did, Barnes, I-”

“No,” he exclaimed, again moving closer. “You didn't do anything I asked you to do! Why can't you just…? Argh.”

You moved back a little as he planted his hands on the dining room table. You felt a little pressure in your chest at the sight of him like this, as if defeated and hopeless. Disappointed. But that was a common thing. That's why you used to have individual missions, and that's why you didn't really like working in a team. You mean, it wasn't wrong to do it, but everything always ended up in arguments because nobody liked the way you worked, so it was better to do it alone, right?

Seeing Bucky like that reminded you of how many times you had seen that look on the faces of Steve, Natasha, Tony, Clint, even Thor… It was never welcome nor were you comfortable with what was coming next, but it was the way you worked, how could you change out of nowhere something you had done your whole life?

Maybe you just had to apologize, sometimes that worked. Because you also knew that, knowing how bossy and caring Bucky was, you should have at least held back a little during the mission. Bucky's patience couldn't stand that sort of thing.

“Listen, I'm sorry, okay? I was a little careless, but that's how-”

“A little careless?” he interrupted you, his voice and face incredulous. "You almost got yourself killed."

“We're in this job under that risk, Barnes, that's not news.”

The man in the middle of the mess ran his hands over his face, elated, frustrated and surely overwhelmed. He let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a growl before turning back to look at you.

“Why can't you just listen?”

His accusing gaze enlarged a hole in your chest that you constantly tried to ignore, planting bitter feelings of sadness that you were usually very good at avoiding. But at that moment, for some reason, you couldn't stop your face from twitching at the strong, hurt tone of the man who looked at you as if he couldn't believe who you are and what you do. It seemed like Bucky was always in denial and today he realized that what everyone always told him was true.

That look, that dull gleam in his eye, that expression of understanding… All of that you were used to seeing, but coming from him it felt different. As if you hadn't really meant to cause those feelings, as if you wanted to turn back time to do things differently. The surprisingly incredulous and remorseful look was digging deep into your head, searing itself with hot iron to make sure to haunt you in the future.

At that moment you didn't care if Bucky realized how much his words affected you. Maybe you deserved to feel that way. Maybe he should have known that it affected you too much, that would surely do more than an apology.

“If only you had listened to me, we would have left sooner and without any trouble,” Bucky spoke again after what felt like hours of silence.

You couldn't take him back. It was true.

“Why did you…? Argh. Whatever. I'm going to report to Fury.”

His figure passed you like a blur. You barely felt his presence very superficially before all was silent again.

Your heart ached again. For some reason, it wouldn't stop hurting that it was still beating.

The day before.

“WHAT?” you exclaimed in disbelief and the director's tired look reappeared.

“It's already scheduled, Y/N, I can't undo it. So just go, try to cooperate together and come back in one piece,” Fury leaned back against the back of the chair, putting his feet up on the desk.

You looked at his shoes as if they were to blame for everything.

“It's funnier to think Bucky reacted the same way,” Tony spoke up, sitting in the chair next to yours, a mocking expression on his face.

“Shut up,” you smacked his arm before turning back to the director. “Sir, you know Barnes and I don't get along and knowing that, what makes you think we'll hit it off on a mission?”

Fury shrugged. “A hunch.”

“A hunch…?” you repeated in a low tone, twice as incredulous that the big SHIELD director had just said that.

“That's it, agent, you're dismissed.”

You left his office on your own, not because you had been dispatched. The walk to the housing complex took you longer than ever at that point.

You'd only had one mission with Bucky Barnes once a couple of years ago and it had been a disaster. Your group missions usually ended with a close call, but that time with Bucky it was like going to hell and back.

You two had never gotten along. Regardless of Fury's hundreds of attempts to get along, you had never managed to vibrate on the same frequency. It seemed more like you repelled each other every time you were together, and it was totally justified because Bucky was too bossy and wouldn't let you breathe for a single second. Every second of the mission had to be ruled by him because otherwise he was going to explode into a sea of rage and, God, no one wanted to piss Bucky off in that Complex. However, you were always the first to tell him that his tactics weren't working or that he was too slow and well, naturally, you ended up arguing.

You met Natasha and Steve halfway to the rooms and from the way they both looked at each other before the redhead approached you knew you must surely have a scrunched up face.

“Did something happen?” Natasha asked as soon as she reached your side and started walking at the same pace as you, slightly more hurried than usual.

“Fury assigned me a mission with Barnes,” you spat out the good news, impossibly frowning harder at the mention of that name.

“Oh,” Natasha nodded. “Well, you could try to work things out-”

“What things, Natasha?” you paused, turning to look at her as everything around you turned red. “There's nothing to fix here, because Barnes is a stubborn, obstinate, childish, bossy, stupid man who is incapable of speaking like a civilized adult and only knows how to shout orders everywhere as if he's the bossy one in the Complex. I can't stand him!”

“Wow.”

You heard his voice.

“I hope you know the feeling is reciprocated.”

You turned to see him, his body was leaning against the island at the entrance to the kitchen, in a strategic spot as if you could never realize he was there because your path was to the other side. Natasha watched between the two of you like a tennis match, fearful as if at any moment the screaming would start and she would have to run away.

You didn't know what to do. You were super angry, yes, and you felt your blood boiling inside your veins, too. And you'd said all that stuff to Bucky's face before, and God knows how many times before you'd argued just by seeing each other in the halls of the Complex. Despite that, you felt trapped. The anger was still there, yes, but his gaze pierced through you like a sword.

“Believe me, I don't want to go on this mission with a stubborn, obstinate, headstrong, ignorant, individualist like you either, who cares not for the safety of the team but for her own victory, no matter how she achieves it.”

With his eyes sharp, his heavy footsteps approached you, echoing in your head loudly like the second hand of a clock. He had stopped at a safe distance as he spoke and at one point Natasha had grabbed your arm when it seemed you had tried to approach him as well.

“You're a hypocrite,” you spat at him.

“Ha! Me?”

“You always play the saintly dove, but you know you're not much different from me.”

“I'm nothing like you,” Bucky wrinkled his face, as if the very thought caused him to shiver with disgust.

“You're an individualist, too, imposing your plans on others.”

“You never have a plan! What do you expect me to do, let you go and die?”

“I do have plans! But you don't like them because they are more effective than yours.”

“They're more effective at the cost of risking more of our lives.”

“That's what our job is all about!”

“Our job is about protecting! How are you going to accomplish a mission if you're dead?”

“Well, I've done pretty well so far, in case you haven't noticed.”

“If I had a nickel for every time you've gone airhead straight into danger and ended up nowhere near dead, I'd have as much money as Stark.”

“And if I had a nickel for every time your stupid, slow plans have caused you to lose sight of the target and made you come back empty-handed, I'd be twice as rich as Stark.”

“At least my kill rate is minus five.”

“And my hit rate is one hundred by the way.”

“Are you even listening to what you're saying?”

“That I always finish missions on the first try, unlike you?”

“That you're treating your life like it's something insignificant.”

“Ah, now you care about my life?”

Natasha tightened her hand around your forearm again preventing you from again getting too close to the man who was getting on your nerves. Before he could respond, you spoke again:

“Look, Barnes, to make it absolutely clear to you for the rest of your long life: I love my life and I love my job. I love my life because it allows me to have this job and I love my job because it allows me to have this life. If you have a problem with how I choose to do the job, that's just that, your problem. But don't think you're coming here to give me a psychology lesson to make me believe that I don't value my life just because now you've run out of arguments. It's because I value my life, Barnes, that I always come out of every mission unscathed. I don't put myself at risk because I'm oblivious. I always have everything figured out and that's why everything always works out for me.”

Bucky snorted, his body moving away from yours, but despite that expression on his face he didn't respond again. He gave you a sidelong glance before walking back into the kitchen.

Your shoulders felt a little lighter. For a moment you thought he was going to continue arguing.

Natasha next to you sighed, finally letting go of your forearm.

“Why did you hold me so tight?” you frowned at her, rubbing the part of your skin that was slightly red. “Did you really think I was going to fight a super soldier?”

Natasha shrugged under your gaze.

“We've known you to do crazy things.”

“I wouldn't have stood a chance of beating him even if he gave me the upper hand.”

Five hours earlier.

You hadn't seen Bucky for the rest of the day after that discussion, until the next day when you had to get on the Quinjet and didn't even glance at each other.

Steve was in charge of handling the airplane and, apparently, he was also in charge of briefing you on how you were going to proceed on the mission, because Bucky was too busy drilling holes with his gaze somewhere else on the Quinjet away from the two of you.

Neither spoke when you descended nor when you approached the base apparently in a state of abandonment.

Bucky's mission were flat and simple, but as usual he had no backup plan, because all his backup plans were the same: run away. Bucky had a chick's sense of survival, that's why when things went bad was the time when he would scream at you the loudest.

Just like it happened on that mission.

“This place is deadly quiet,” you spoke for the first time, barely earning a sidelong glance from the man next to you.

You had already finished thermo-sensor checking every floor of the building and it was indeed desolate. Still, you felt a strange uncomfortable chill run down your back.

“Well, that's what deserted means,” Bucky commented, his sarcasm sharp.

You rolled your eyes at him, even if he couldn't see you, and kept walking with your gun raised as you approached the checkpoint.

“I mean I can't even hear birds or crickets, doesn't that strike you as odd?”

“Well, we're on the fourth floor, wouldn't it make it stranger if you could hear them at this altitude?”

“Well, you can hear at this height. Tell me, do you hear anything down below?”

Bucky paused. They were a few steps away from reaching the room. His deadly stare caused you nothing but boredom and you would have ignored him completely except that he let out a sigh, dejected. You detailed him minutely as he seemed to focus his hearing on external sounds.

“There's nothing,” he spoke after a few seconds, his brow slightly furrowed.

“You see?”

“But that doesn't mean anything. We'd better finish this quickly.”

Ignoring the grimace on your face, Bucky moved to step into the room whose door was wide open. You stared offended at his back and felt the urge to smack his big head with the butt of your gun.

“Here it is,” you heard him exclaim from inside.

Sighing you made your way to where he stood. A large display of old computers anchored to the wall.

“You should do it yourself,” you looked at Bucky with a smirk. “I don't handle equipment this old.”

Bucky only snorted in response and moved with his gun to another side of the room, leaving you in complete silence to do your job.

You moved quietly and sat down in front of the machines. You plugged them into the power source you brought in your suitcase and in a few minutes they began to work.

The mission was simple. There was one of the old HYDRA bases that contained specific information that Fury needed to find. Up to that point, they had searched about seven abandoned bases without any success. So there you were with Bucky, at the eighth base they had identified, digging through old commands and in another language trying to find the information they needed.

Ever since they left the Complex that morning you were convinced you would find nothing. They had already raided several bases and there were still a few more to go. The probability that you would find that information at that time was…

Bingo.

“Got it,” you exclaimed to Bucky.

You heard his hurried footsteps and then felt the warmth of his body next to you.

“Is that it?”

“Just a folder.”

“And why does it load so slowly?”

“It's an old computer, Bucky, it works at its own pace.”

Bucky gave you a sidelong glance. “Wish you understood me like you understand that thing.”

“Aish,” you pouted by way of mockery. “Jealous, Barnes?”

The aforementioned just snorted.

The load was running at forty percent and truth be told, yes, it was too slow. But you could do nothing but wait, there was no way to speed it up.

Bucky paced back and forth behind you and you just watched the green lines move as if that helped at all. But, well, what else could you do?

At one point, as the charge was about to reach eighty percent, you heard interference on your communicators.

“Argh,” you shook your head and raised your hand to move the device a little away until the sound died down. “Steve?”

There was no response.

You turned to look at Bucky, who had the same quizzical expression.

The interference returned and then you heard Steve's voice distorted.

“… of… moment!”

“What the fuck is he saying?”

Bucky remained silent, tapping the device on his ear as if that would fix it.

But you saw it before you heard Steve's voice again.

A clump of people through the window. A freshly loaded cannon.

“Barnes…”

And at that moment, Steve's voice filled them with clarity.

“It's an ambush! Get out of there now!”

The quickness of the impact didn't let you process what was happening. Less than a second after hearing Steve the ground shook beneath your feet. The cracks in the floor started small and then swallowed you apart.

You held onto a beam, barely lucid enough. You propelled yourself upward, swinging your forearms over the patch of ground that was still intact. You heard Bucky's grunts in the distance. He was surely all right.

You heard him call out to you too, but as soon as you could sit down on the ground, the first thing you did was to reach for the pendrive.

Your heart was pounding, so hard it might as well have flown out on its own. Your breathing accelerated, with adrenaline rushing through your body was the only thing you could feel. At that moment you felt capable of anything.

You stood up quickly to look out the window again. The people were gone and the cannon had been destroyed.

It was at that moment that you realized that Steve was still talking on the communicator.

“I'm fine,” you replied, after being able to decipher his words amidst the constant buzzing from the sound of the explosion and the dizziness you felt at the sight of the hole next to you.

“Okay, you're both fine,” the Captain spoke again.

“Y/N, you can get down from there and get to the floor below. I'll catch you.”

At the sound of Bucky's voice, you moved away from the window.

Bucky had landed on the floor below, and yes, from where you were you could jump up and you'd probably have nothing but a cramp.

“How's it going up there?”

“Well, the shields are holding up okay, but I've got poor vision. I think they're regrouping somewhere else.”

You looked around.

Most of the floor had swallowed up the computers, but the main one was still loading the document. You could see the green from where you were. It was at ninety-seven percent.

But it was dangerous to get too close. The pendrive was dangling from the main computer which was about to succumb to the cracked floor.

There was some concrete left in front of the computers that you could walk across, so, without a second thought, you mapped out a mental guidance plan and moved forward.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I'm getting the pendrive.”

“What? Are you insane? That side of the floor isn't going to support your weight!”

“Yes it will. I know how to do it.”

You started walking all over the remaining edge of the floor in front of what was left of the computers. Small pieces would break off as you passed causing Bucky to hiss.

“Y/N, you'd better stop and get down right now. There's still a risk of them firing again.”

“I'm gonna get it, Barnes.”

“Y/N! Get down, now!”

Ignoring his command, you held onto the remaining wall in front of you as you continued on your way, almost reaching where the pendrive was, about to fall into the abyss.

Ninety-eight percent.

“Y/N!”

“Fucking hell, Barnes, will you shut the fuck up? Your yelling is breaking my concentration.”

“You want me to just stay quiet while you walk to your certain death?”

“I'm not going to dieee- ahh-”

Your left foot, the one in front, wobbled as a piece of the floor came loose. You clung tightly to the wall as best you could, breathing deeply to calm your racing heart. Panicking at that moment wasn't going to do any good.

“God, I can't believe this,” you heard Bucky's voice, muttering to himself. “Now are you really going to get off?”

His voice sounded reprimanding, but agitated. In the midst of that mess, you wondered for a moment if he was really worried.

“I'm almost there.”

You heard him grunt in the distance.

You kept moving your feet in the direction of the main computer, this time more cautiously and more slowly. The floor all along that edge was too cracked, on the verge of falling. You were surprised it had lasted this long.

At that point, Bucky started talking to Steve, but you kept your full concentration on not falling. Maybe Bucky was right and you really didn't have any regard for your life, but…. No, no. You were very sure of what you were doing. You couldn't give up without trying everything. Maybe for Bucky it was too risky, but that was your life. And you knew you could do it.

Ninety-nine.

You had reached the critical point on the ground.

The voices of the two men were becoming too overwhelming, so you quickly took off your communicator and stuffed it in one of your tactical pants pockets.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Bucky exclaimed, a considerable distance away. He wasn't as far away as you thought.

“Your voices are distracting me!”

Good. You were close. Maybe from there you could reach it… if you stretched a little… a little more… a little- Whoop. Nope. You weren't that close. Another chunk of floor fell and with it everything around you shifted. The concrete was so unstable that it tilted further into the abyss after your not at all incredible maneuver.

You had to get even closer.

You had to use plan c.

But for that, the pendrive had to be one hundred percent charged and you weren't sure you could wait for that. Or well, you weren't sure the floor would hold. You had to be quick.

You heard Bucky behind you, but his words were carried away by the wind. You couldn't focus on him because that would be too distracting.

So, arriving at point x, you executed your plan as quickly as possible.

You ran. Even if the world was falling down, you ran. In the direction of the pendrive. The green number didn't change. You took a deep breath. You felt the sparks fly around you. The sound of the ground cracking was going to haunt you in several dreams.

You picked up the pendrive. You would have a few extra seconds as you leaned over and climbed over the computers to gain momentum.

The bing of the computer filled you with a rush of adrenaline.

One hundred percent.

You jumped. You held your breath for a second. Nerves built up in your throat. You felt like you were going to lose consciousness for a minute. Maybe you heard Bucky in the background, you weren't sure, but knowing him he was probably still scolding you.

In the midst of a deep exhalation…

Your feet hit the ground. You rolled. You moved quickly as you turned to see that the ground was still falling. You got up and ran.

You ran until you collided with a solid body. Bucky was shaking your shoulders.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he exclaimed, his face angry.

You could hear Steve's voice through his communicator because of how close he was.

“Shit.”

He grabbed your arm and you ran again.

Somehow, Bucky managed to get you out of the building as they bombed it again. You had a gunfight the moment you touched the cold snow.

You moved alongside Bucky like a symphony, aiming and firing with your gun until you managed to get away.

When you noticed that you kept going and kept running…

“Where's Steve?”

“If you had your fucking communicator on…”

Bucky grabbed your hand again to keep running.

You quickly reached a shack that looked abandoned and the man next to you wasted no time in letting go of you and running in the direction of what appeared to be a garage. There was a motorcycle.

You reached into your pocket only to realize that the communicator had been destroyed.

And Bucky looked too angry to want to talk.

“Get on.”

He drove all the way into town, but he didn't stop there.

You were on the road for at least about two hours. You had no idea where you were.

Somewhere along that trip, Bucky stopped in front of another abandoned shack and from there he pulled out a car. He set the bike on fire.

You went back on the road, for at least another hour.

Until you reached a small town and Bucky finally stopped in front of a house that didn't look so neglected.

“They destroyed the Quinjet's shields at missile point. Steve had to leave. We'll stay here until I can get through to Fury and we know what to do.”

His voice gave no room for retorts.

Present.

Well, yes, you were a bit reckless during missions, but so what? You got what you needed thanks to your incredible action plans and always came out unscathed. If you didn't do that during missions, how far behind would they be now in their knowledge against the enemy? They would probably be sitting ducks. Bucky didn't see that.

You two didn't talk for much of the afternoon and evening. You had spent it in the living room, trying to avoid the mess he had made to get something to eat and rest. You had perhaps slept for about three hours when you woke up and saw him sitting in one of the dining room chairs. The room looked cleaner than before.

Bucky sighed when he realized you had woken up.

“I'm sorry I yelled at you.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Earlier when we arrived. And for all the mess,” he averted his gaze when you leaned on your forearm to get a better look at him.

“Don't you think it was the least you could do?” quizzical, you sat back on the couch.

“Weren't you the one who said I don't know how to talk like a civilized adult?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Sometimes.”

“Well, now I want to. That's why I deeply apologize for reacting that way.”

You remained silent, not really knowing how to answer him. On the previous mission you'd had with Bucky, when the whole mess was over and you were quietly in the Quinjet taking it all in, Bucky had only said “you're fucking crazy” to you before exiting the aircraft. There was no scolding, at least not from him, no complaining, no yelling. Just that. And with that you stayed for a week because you never even saw him again.

Despite the number of times you had heard that, you couldn't see it that way. That was your job, that was what you did and you didn't dislike it. You had done it forever, it was basically your way of life and you had always done it excellently. You trained and practiced for situations like that, that's why you were part of SHIELD's risk management team for so long. You used to risk your life like that to save other people and it didn't bother you. Now you were still doing it, also to save people. There was no dark reason behind it. You were contributing to a common good and that was enough.

“I guess I haven't made things bearable for you either,” you admitted with a hint of remorse.

“No, never,” Bucky shook his head in agreement.

“I'm sorry I scared you,” the words slipped from your mouth. You wanted to say something else, but, well, that had to work.

Bucky let out a short laugh. His head jerked in sync, his shoulders loose as if he didn't have a care in the world. For a moment you felt like you were somewhere else; maybe in a living room, some alcoholic beverage in one of your hands as one of your favorite songs played softly in the background, and Bucky. Bucky sitting in front of you, just like that moment.

Wow. What the fuck was that?

“You apologize for my reaction, but not for what you did?” his sly grin was getting on your nerves. You preferred it when he wasn't trying to upset you at the point of smirks. You never thought that was a weapon he could use against you.

Feelings.

Ew.

No, I hate Bucky Barnes. This is unacceptable. Mind, get your shit together.

“Well, I tried to do that earlier and you didn't care. I don't know what you want from me, Barnes,” you turned your head away, nonchalantly playing with your hair to avoid seeing those light eyes again.

“You'd better leave it at that. I couldn't take that knack away from you if I tried for years,” the sigh that accompanied his words reminded you of something you'd thought of when you were in the building. His face still looked calm, but a little upset by the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“Why do you care so much about that?” you asked him directly now that you had the chance.

You looked at him as he turned his head away, his eyes roaming over your face, confused.

“Are you asking me why I care about your life?”

Puzzled, you shrugged. His look almost made you think that was a weird thing to ask, but was it really? “Yes. Well…. You hate me.”

“What? I don't hate you,” Bucky shook his head, his face more contracted than before as if you'd said he had cat ears on his head. He looked almost offended.

And that was the really strange thing.

You mean, almost as long as you'd known Bucky your relationship had been based on fights and demeaning adjectives to each other. That he would say that made even less sense than you asking him why he cared so much about you. He had to be pulling your leg.

“What? But I hate you because you hate me,” you explained vaguely, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. That was one way of putting it; that is to say, Bucky never gave any indication that he didn't hate you. Or well…

“I don't hate you,” Bucky shrugged, his nonchalant expression confusing you that much more. “You're just a little… insufferable sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes. “That's just a synonym for hating.”

“I don't hate you,” he repeated, this time turning to look you in the eye. For a moment you felt like your breath caught in your throat and you were going to choke. “I know we argue and say a lot of things to each other, but… hating is too strong a feeling.”

“Are you really serious?” you shook your head to get the extraneous thoughts out; that wasn't the time to make a discovery, to realize you had lived a lie.

“Yes. And just to make you more sure, I wouldn't mind hanging out with you outside the Complex,” Bucky blurted out, matter-of-factly.

Your head went blank.

“WHAT?”

Several seconds stunned.

Bucky barely cracked a smile at your dumbfounded expression. It sure looked like you'd actually seen cat ears grow on his head. The things he was now saying… they didn't make sense. “You dislike the idea that much?”

“Do you want to not say things so drastically different every moment? You're changing my perception of reality.”

Bucky kept his small smile and you had to swallow hard to ignore the warmth that settled in your chest. It wasn't welcome, not at that moment. The sound of that music in the living room in your head was getting louder, as if your own mind wanted to mock your surprise.

“Well, back to your question,” Bucky moved his hands nonchalantly over his lap and your eyes followed his movement unashamedly, “I don't see why I shouldn't care about your life. We are partners, after all.”

Partners? After all you had been through? Were you partners? Did Bucky believe that?

“Are we?” you didn't try to hide the incredulous tone that accompanied your words, because it already sounded like you'd just stepped through the door into a parallel dimension.

“Sure,” Bucky nodded to emphasize your words and the calm expression on his face became more familiar with each passing second. Could it be that that had always been the reality and you had been deprived of it? “We've known each other for five years.”

“I always thought you hated me…” you mumbled to yourself, looking lost because your head recalling every fight of the last few years, since you met him, every tongue out and every exalted word, but his incredible hearing clearly picked up what you said as if you had murmured it in his ear.

“Surely it was a mistake in communication.”

“Mistake?” you frowned at his reassurance. “You always called me stubborn and childish every chance you got.”

“I thought we were annoying each other. Although, of course,” his face became a little more serious, “there were times when I knew you hated me intensely. You said really hurtful things, what was I supossed to do? That's why I never bothered to talk to you like this. You did hate me.”

“Because I thought you…! Argh.”

Bucky smiled again.

“You're the insufferable one, Barnes.”

You hated the way your head snapped back to that image in the living room, so peaceful and calm, so serene and warm, the moment his barely noticeable smile hit you again. You had barely managed to get those words out of your mouth before you felt yourself running out of breath again.

Were you asthmatic?

And why was your head suddenly filled with platonic thoughts you'd never had before in your life?

What the fuck was happening to you?

“This is the longest civilized conversation we've ever had,” Bucky spoke again, his gaze wandering somewhere in the room.

Yes, that was true. Whenever you talked for this long it was always to argue and say hurtful things to each other. But you were too surprised by everything he had said, because just yesterday he told you that he didn't want to come on this mission with you either and in his eyes you were sure you saw something like what you felt. Something of hatred, when you saw your eyes through his.

Did you just… imagine it all?

Did you think he hated you because you hated him too?

Or maybe you wanted to convince yourself that he hated you. Maybe it was easier to deal with that than with the idea that you…

Oh no.

No, no, no. There's no fucking way that's it.

But then Bucky stood up and with his smug, know-it-all, hateful look, with that sly, evil grin, like he'd always known everything, like he was squirming around enjoying your confused stare, he held out his hand to you and said:

“Shall we fix something to eat?”

Oh, no, you were screwed.

--

a/n: thank u so much for reading!! <3

[sweetieviktor]

"take me back to the night we met", feat. viktor.

summary: you knew he was dieing, but seeing him using shimmer was too much to bare . based on the song "the night we met", by lord huron.

word count: 720.

content warning: season 1, act 3 spoilers! idk if shimmer use count as a cw, but anyways this is angst and it doesn't have a happy ending!

author notes: there's so much time since i've written fanfiction!! but i loved doind this one and i swear that i cried while writing this. and this may be very ooc and doesn't match the scenes in season 1, act 3, but i dont have time to watch it again now and i was so hyped up bcs of season 2 that i just had to write something, yk? also, there may be some typos or grammar errors even though i re-read this like 3 times i think lol. but yeah, here it is!

you came back to his lab expecting to see him doing good, maybe working on his research, too focused on any stuff he was doing at the moment and not noticing you by the door, but he wasn't in there, or so it looked like.

he was hunched over his desk, in his hands was a glass tube, the remaining of the purple liquid shimmering in the dark room, illuminating just enough to draw his weak silhouette amongst the shadows.

“viktor…?” was everything you said while getting closer to him, walking with slow steps, trying to make no sounds to alarm him.

“stop.” raising a hand, that was all he said.

just as you were told, you stopped on your tracks, observing that, his once perfect hand, was now painted in a shade of purple, the same that was inside the glass recipient.

it can't be. right?

“what you did to yourself?”

“i did what needed to be done.” he was so baretoned, you didn't understand why he seemed so rude, so crude, so… unlike him.

when his words settled in, it felt like your stomach was turning, wrapping itself around your guts, making you sick. you felt sick, for him.

“please, please, viktor, don't tell me that you're using sh-” “yes.”

of course you knew about his condition, of course you knew he wasn't doing good at all, and mostly, you knew that things were meant to end, one way or another. but you didn't think he would kill himself like this.

and this was all you needed to break.

“why you didn't told me? i could have helped you, we could find a way to work through it,” the tears started to prick on your eyes, your voice breaking, the anger at yourself pooling into your core. “you wouldn't need to use shimmer, vik...”

the feeling that the universe stole and took all that once mattered to you was what drove you insane. the feeling that you could make things different, make things better, the oh so simple solution that you could find, if only he had told you.

“it’s not that easy! you wouldn't understand if i told you sooner. no one would understand it, even if they tried really hard to.” he turned his head towards your direction, looking at your face for a brief second, before turning his gaze back to the ground, his purple irises trying to focus on something that wasn't your saddened face, now, feeling his own eyes burning, burning even more than the blood running in his veins. “we are in piltover, the city of progress, and yet, i am stuck behind, and i'm dieing. so, i needed to do something, and i did.”

“what you don’t understand is that you're destroying yourself, viktor. destroying yourself so slowly that it almost feels like torture. i fear that i wouldn't be able to see you for another day.” you sobbed, the tears rolling down and he didn't dare to look at your eyes again, he knew that you were crying. he knew it and he couldn't bear the thought that he was the one that made you cry. “if there is a god somewhere, i wish they could turn back time and take me back to the night we met. maybe things could be different, right?”

looking at him, a weak, nervous smile was all you could get out while crying, thinking to yourself when things started to get this wrong and how you let it happen, without even realizing what was wrong. how could you let him do this to himself?

your body was shaking, it felt like the whole world was trembling. the nonstoping thoughts hammering your head, your heart a mile per minute, the air in your lungs wasn't enough. everything, everything seemed like it was crushing down on you, right in this moment.

“i'm sorry. i'm so sorry... i need to go. now.”

you needed to get out of here, you needed to breathe.

you headed back to the door, wishing that some cold breeze would cool you down, would just stop your mind and racing heart. wishing for him to be fine again. praying for any and all gods that lived in the skies and beyond, praying for him to be alive. just for a bit more.

[rosemarydisaster]

I want to ask people to please please accept nuanced characters and not be a bitch about it. I've already seen so many crazy takes and I don't know if I can handle the death of media literacy right now. We've been through this in AFTG, let's not bring that energy to TSC.

For those who have read the book, examples under the cut.

Let's start with the fandom's favorite scapegoat: Thea Muldani. "She thought Jean was a whore sleeping with the defense line". That's what she was told and what Kevin and Jean allowed her to believe. Context is important: Thea was there because she just found out her team (and she wasn't involved at all with the mafia part or Riko's torture) had lied to her about her boyfriend's injuries. She obviously couldn't believe it because, would you!?? And when she sees Jean she's instantly on his side asking what happened to him. She's heartbroken when he doesn't answer and tells her to just believe what Kevin tells her. You can tell she cared about her little duckling and was horrified with what happened under her nose.

Then Kevin. Kevin is the recipient of Jean's unrequited love and that's not his fault. Hell, there's a lot of chances he didn't even know about it, Jean was the closest thing he had to a friend. He didn't seduce and trick Jean for his own benefit, he tricked his friend to survive and regretted ever since. He knew Jean wouldn't run, he knew Jean would have tried to stop him if he told him. It wasn't fair for Jean, but it was Kevin's only chance. I thought this was obvious. Jean is entitled to hate him, but the audience should know better than mischaracterize him like that.

Jeremy and the Trojans are the closest we have to a normal pov. Their way of handling Jean's trauma is not going to be like the Foxes'. They try not to pry too much, to offer him distractions and accommodations. They honestly do as well as they can. The people saying they're so pushy and annoying???? My bestie in Christ you'd probably handle it way worse.

I just think that we as a fandom should appreciate how good Nora's character writing is. Most characters are not fully evil (and those who are you can understand how they turned into monsters most of the time), but they fuck up. Sometimes they fuck up unknowingly, sometimes they fuck up because they don't know better, sometimes they fuck someone over because it's their only way out, sometimes the circumstances get in the way.

That doesn't make things better for the characters that get screwed over. Jean is entitled to his complicated feelings over Kevin. Aaron is allowed to not understand why his brother killed his mother. Just because the current narrator's pov makes it obvious for the audience doesn't mean the characters inside the book have the info and knowhow to do better.

TSC made me love Kevin even more because I'm a sucker for for imperfect victims. I hate the IRL narrative that in order to deserve sympathy you have to be purely the most victimized victim of them all. Kevin had to step over Jean to get out of his situation. Kevin had to witness the abuse, unable to do anything about it. Kevin is a bitch to his teammates and endangers them just by being in their team. He also loves them fiercely and forces them to keep on living.

It's complicated. And if you can't handle nuanced and complex characters please just keep your incorrect opinions to yourself??? Like why is everyone so comfortable admitting publicly they don't understand how to analyze realistic traumatized characters??? Why would you admit you can only see in black and white?? "Well if you're a victim and a good guy then you would never ever do something not nice. Gotcha!" That's how you sound.

[jdtrashman]

Countdown To Dawntrail Week 3: Rhalgr's Reach

My second entry into @voidsentprinces Countdown To Dawntrail series. This time we're looking at Mitnu.

"Mitnu," Gaius said softly, beckoning the tiny miqote out from behind his leg. "This is Fordola. She is one of many recipients of our outreach program."

Mitnu finally peeked her little head out from her hiding spot and saw an ala mhigan girl about her age. Her sunset-colored hair fell over quietly miserable eyes. "Fordola, this is my daughter, Mitnu. I hope you two can get along."

Fordola forced the knight back with her shield before clashing her sword with theirs. Rhalgr's Reach was burning, and this one paladin was keeping her from further glory. She couldn't even see their face, hidden behind a helmet. But as their swords clashed, she watched the way the knight fought. Her growing suspicions were confirmed when she went for a horizontal swipe and, despite the heaviness of the armor, the knight ducked underneath and spun their leg to kick hers out from under her. Fordola leapt at the perfect time, before landing and bringing her sword down on the knight's helmet hard enough to take a large chunk of it off. She pointed her blade at the prone paladin, her eyes blazing with furious familiarity. "How dare you..."

"It's so cool that you get to live in the palace!" Fordola said as the two kids ran through the courtyard. Mitnu giggled as Fordola hopped on a railing, holding out her arms to keep balance.

It had been about a year since that first meeting, and in that time, the two had become inseparable. Mitnu still didn't know why papa had insisted that they become friends, but she was glad for it. She finally had a friend.

Mitnu shook within the armor. Her throat seized up, her mind felt like it was drowning in water, while her legs felt like jelly. Staring up into Fordola's eyes, Mitnu saw all of her regrets made manifest. And as if things couldn't get worse, "Is that you, Lady Baelsar?" asked the crown prince himself.

Lyse, who was rushing to her aid, stopped dead in her tracks, as did the skulls and all of the resistance fighters with whom they were engaging. Tears began to well up at the edge of Mitnu's eyes. They were all staring at her. Why did she come back? No, no she had to, and she knew this could happen. She thought she would be ready, but gods, not like this. With a quivering lip, she responded. "Yes...yes, it is me." she bit her tongue before she could end that sentence with the proper honorific of your radiance. A habit she thought she had kicked. Slowly, she stood up.

"Baelsar...?" Lyse muttered under her breath, staring at Mitnu dumbfounded.

Zenos approached with the casualness of someone not in a battlefield. "Take off your helmet, girl, let me have a look at you."

Shaking hands undid the clasps on her helmet, took it off, and dropped it to the ground, forgotten. Gasps could be heard throughout the courtyard, both from the resistance fighters, and the garlean soldiers. Her soldiers.

Her skulls.

"The skulls?" asked Fordola. Mitnu had invited her over for a cup of tea. Most of the time, it was to share a mutual laugh at how out of place someone like Fordola looked having tea with the upper crust of Garlean-occupied Ala Mhigo. But this time, the 15-year-old heiress looked deadly serious.

"You, Emelin, Hrudolf, and the others?" Mitnu started, setting down her cup. "Doesn't matter that your parents have done everything the Empire has asked, doesn't matter what strings Papa pulls. There aren't a lot of avenues for you guys to advance."

"I know that, a sight better than you do, little miss moneybags."

"Hush you. Anyway, the military is your best shot, but if you guys join the regular army..."

"We'll be shipped out to some backwater region," Fordola finished, staring down at her cup. "We'd never see home again."

"So, me and Papa came up with a solution. The Crania Lupi, will be the official term. I picked Skulls because quite frankly I think it sounds cooler."

Fordola snorted and rolled her eyes. "Of course you did."

The two laughed, breaking the tension, before Mitnu continued. "The reason our people continue to resist occupation is because they see no future in the Empire. We can convince those higher than my father that we deserve more, that we deserve better. And we can show our people that they can beat the empire at their own game-"

"And make them think it was their idea," Fordola finished again. "You see, this is why I hang out with you Mitnu. Well, that, and another reason."

"Which is?"

Fordola looked away, her copper cheeks showing a hint of pink. "I'll uh, tell you later."

"Mitnu, what are they talking about?" Lyse asked.

Mitnu looked back at her, then whipped back to Fordola when she heard her laughing.

"By the emperor, you guys didn't know?!" she asked, almost doubling over with laughter. "That is the funniest thing I've heard all day. Well, no sense holding back now. Before you stands the founder of the Crania Lupi, the Platinum Woman, the daughter of Gaius Van Baelsar-" Before she could finish, Mitnu lunged at her with her sword. The sword gashed open Fordola's shoulder, sending her staggering back with a pained yelp.

Only for Zenos to lay his gigantic hand atop her head. To an outside observer, it would almost seem gentle. But Mitnu felt the power behind that hand, and knew what it meant. "Mitnu Baelsar." Zenos finished for Fordola. Then his hand tightened into a fist, grabbing a handful of Mitnu's twisted braids - drawing a guttural scream from the girl - and slammed her face-forward into the ground. Mitnu hit the dirt with such force that she was left lying there in a Mitnu-shaped dent in the stone.

Lyse was shaken from her daze by the act and roared in outrage, "You fucking bastard!!!" She charged at the towering Garlean prince, who lazily drew his sword.

As the battle continued, the resistance forces being routed by the squad she created to bridge the divide that caused this war to begin with, Mitnu's last thought before drifting into unconsciousness, was the cursed day everything went wrong.

An entire village.

They just wiped out an entire village.

They, they had to, though! They were aiding the resistance, making bombs for them. But, the entire village...

Mitnu was in the bathroom back at the palace, desperately washing her face and hands. Despite them looking perfectly clean, somehow she still could see flecks of blood on them no matter how hard she washed.

She had been dealing with this for the past 3 years, but today - what they had done - had done the final blow to the 18-year-old's facade of stoicism. 3 years of pain, of suffering inflicted, for "the greater good" was finally weighing down on her.

No! No what they were doing was right, it had to be. It just, it HAD to! Mitnu looked up into the mirror, seeing her haggard brown face, and said "We are the Garlean empire. We are the future of this star. We...we are just."

And in that moment, her Echo awoke. An echo that exposed lies. And in lying to herself, the echo showed its host the truth, undeniable and inarguable.

Mitnu came out of the trance shaking like a leaf, staring into her own soul in the mirror. With a scream, she punched the mirror hard enough to shatter through to the wall behind it. A wretch followed, and Mitnu heaved her lunch and breakfast into the toilet.

Mitnu would spend the rest of the afternoon in the corner, sobbing profusely, apologizing to people who were not there. And later, in the dead of night, she packed her things. She had to stop them, she had to atone for what she had been a part of her entire life.

But first, she had to get out of Ala Mhigo...

[lokiwhitewolf]

Red Hot Winter- Chapter 18

Happy late Halloween! I'm sorry it took too long, I had a writers block!

Chapter Text

Chapter 18 "Remembrance"

Elijah woke up the next morning all alone. He immediately sat up in bed.

"Elena!" He said out loud.

"I'm here." Said Elena, coming through the door, followed by Bonnie.

"What's happened? Is Hayley okay?" He asked.

"Everyone is okay Elijah. It's you we are worried about." Elena replied.

That's when he realized. There was no one else in the compound besides him, Elena, and Bonnie.

"You know." He stated.

"I was worried about you." She said, sitting next to him. "It's not that I minded when you bit me and drank from me when you made me yours, my love, it's that you've never done that before and you didn't ask me before doing it." She continued, caressing the nape of his hair. "So I got into your mind and saw your memories of the red door."

He let his head fall.

"Hey, Elijah, look at me." She said, lifting his head. His eyes were filled with tears. "We're gonna fix this, my love."

"Elena, I've done terrible things in my life…"

"I know." She interrupted him. "Have you forgotten that the first time I saw you, you decapitated Trevor in front of me? I know you've done horrifying things my love, but I still chose you." Tears fell from his eyes now. "We're gonna fix this. Do you trust me?"

"With my life." He said, kissing her briefly, being reciprocated.

"Come with me. We'll do this together. I promised you I wouldn't let you fall."

Putting his shirt back on, Elijah held onto Elena's hand and they both followed Bonnie to the compound's first floor. There was a circle of salt on the floor, and his name had been written in runes on the floor (ᛖᛚᛁᛃᚨᚺ) along with Elena's name as well (ᛖᛚᛖᚾᚨ) by Klaus before he took Caroline and Hayley out.

"I need your guy's blood. I'm going to bind you both in the spell. Elena, you're going to guide Elijah through his memories. Since he drank your blood last night, your bond got stronger, but that doesn't mean that he'll remember who you are. You need to guide him out of the red door." Instructed Bonnie.

"And then what?" Asked Elena.

"You'll have to destroy it once you get him out. You need to destroy the door together."

"What if we can't?" Asked Elijah.

"We are working with a loophole on the spell your mother created. She wasn't counting on the possibility of you falling in love with Tatia's descendant. That's why I need Elena's blood. Because she's from Tatia's bloodline."

Both Elena and Elijah offered Bonnie their arms. She cut through their skin with a knife, their blood falling into a wooden recipient.

"Lay down," Bonnie said.

They both did, Elijah, holding Elena's hand. She knew he was scared. She turned her head to him.

"I'm gonna bring you back my love, I promise." He tried to give her a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. She briefly kissed him while Bonnie started to recite the incantation. They both felt their bodies growing heavy with tiredness, and Elena couldn't move, laying her head on top of Elijah's chest.

Before succumbing to darkness, Elijah brought her closer to him, laying his arm on her waist.

When Elena opened her eyes, she was all alone in a bright white hallway, filled with doors. She started to walk through it, looking for the specific door.

She knew she was getting closer when she started to hear screams and pleas for help coming from different people, including a voice that sounded exactly like hers.

When she finally found it, the door was ajar. Part of her was scared of what she might find in there. But she knew what she had to do. Gathering all of her Gilbert courage, she opened the door and got in.

Instead of finding the typical Viking hut she read about, or the one she saw in Elijah's mind, she found herself in a forest during the night. She recognized the woods. It was Mystic Falls, or what would become Mystic Falls.

"Tatia." She heard Elijah's voice. "How can this be possible? I killed you! You died in my arms!"

She turned to him. He was wearing clothes typical for the period, he had a beard, and his hair was long, with two braids framing his face

"Elijah, I'm not Tatia," Elena said, getting closer to him. "I'm Elena. You have to believe me, my love."

His face started to transform.

"Tatia, don't come any closer, I don't want to hurt you again. I prayed to Balder(Norse god of rebirth) to bring you back to me and he did!"

"Elijah you're not listening to me!"

"I'm sorry, I can't control myself…" He said, before forcing her closer to him and trying to bite her.

"Elijah, Elijah stop!" But she couldn't stop him. He bit her on the same spot he bit her the previous night. Elena let him take what he wanted, because despite everything this was still her Elijah.

When Elena opened her eyes again, it was already another time. Her neck had healed, though she felt weaker.

She walked through the woods until she found herself on the grounds of a castle.

"Lady Katerina, Lord Elijah is looking for you." Said a woman in a British accent, apparently recognizing her.

"Well, tell Lord Elijah to come and fetch me." Said Elena, attempting her best Katherine impression with a British accent.

"Very well." Said the woman.

Elena sat down on the bench of the grounds, waiting for him. According to Katherine's stories, Elijah and Klaus found her in England during the 15th century through Trevor.

In a few minutes, Elijah showed up. His hair was a bit shorter, but he was no longer with a beard. She did have to say she kinda missed it.

"Katerina." He said, smiling and sitting next to her. "I thought my brother had taken you back to his chambers."

"Oh my lord, I think we both know I don't care much about Niklaus."

"And who do you care about, Katerina?" He asked, getting closer to her.

"I think you know the answer to that, my lord."

He smiled before looking into her eyes and for a split second, he recognized her.

"Elena?" He said.

"Elijah!"

But it didn't last long.

"I'm sorry Katerina. I can't help it." His face transformed and he bit her again.

When Elena opened her eyes, she was in the middle of the woods again.

"Katerina, don't bother running. I can smell your fear." She heard Elijah saying.

"That way, she went that way."She heard Trevor saying.

Taking a cue from her ancestors, Elena grabbed a spiked wooden branch. This time, she would make Elijah listen to her, even though she had to use force.

In a few seconds, he found her.

"You shouldn't have run from Niklaus, Katerina." He said.

"I am not Katherine. And I am not Tatia." Elena said. His face was confused for a second, but Elena didn't let him react before plunging the makeshift wooden stake inside his chest, driving him against a tree and making him stuck.

"Stop giving in Elijah, I'm trying to help you."

"You need to try harder." Grabbing her body, he drove her onto the stake and bit her yet again.

When Elena opened her eyes again, she knew she was back in Mystic Falls, and judging from her clothes, she knew what the day was.

She was back in her room, the day she and Elijah had struck the deal in which he promised her to protect her friends and family and she'd help him drive Klaus to the city.

"There's one more thing I need you to do for me." She said, coming close to him.

"Are we negotiating now?"He asked, smirking.

Taking off the necklace she was wearing and throwing it away, she looked into his eyes and asked him the one thing she knew would remind him of her and snap him off his mother's spell.

"Kiss me, Elijah."

"You're with Stefan. It would be highly inappropriate Elena."

"I don't care," She said, wrapping her arms around his neck, caressing the nape of his hair. "kiss me, Elijah."

Elijah's heart was beating rapidly. Taking his chance, Elijah reached out and pulled Elena into a passionate embrace, gently pressing his lips to hers. His heart overflowed with love as he kissed her with all of his passion and desire. The tension between them was palpable as they held each other close.

His hands caressed her back and her hair as their kiss lingered, confirming the strong connection between them. All of a sudden, everything else in the world ceased to exist. The walls couldn't contain the overwhelming feeling of serendipity, and they just kept kissing. Elijah felt himself getting lost in the moment and Elena felt her heart skip a beat. This was the man that she loved.

The kiss was gentle yet strong, full of all the love, adoration, and devotion he had for her. She melted into his embrace and their time together felt like an eternity.

"Elijah." She said when they parted.

"Elena! My love!"

"You know who I am?"

"Yes! I'm so sorry my love…."

"Hey, we don't have much time, we need to destroy the door, Elijah."

"Hold my hand, my love," Elijah said. Elena held his hand, and together, they ran over the door, finally destroying it to pieces.

Elena and Elijah opened their eyes

"Is it over now?" He asked.

"It is," Elena replied, looking at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better with you." He said, bringing her face closer to him and kissing her. "Thank you, my love."

"No need to thank me. I told you I wouldn't let you fall. And I keep my promises."

Later that night, after making Elijah have some blood, both of them were in his office, sitting on the ground facing each other.

"I'm sorry for going through your memories without your consent, Elijah." Said Elena.

"You don't have to have to apologize my love. If you hadn't gone through my memories, I don't think I'd brought it up."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want you to see me like that."

"Elijah." She said, sitting on top of his lap, his hands going to her hips. "I love you, all of you, even the parts of you that you don't like or recognize." He gave her a small smile. "Besides, I did like your appearance 1000 years ago."

"You did?" He asked her, caressing her face. "That long hair that Rebekah had to tame every morning?" He said laughing.

"Maybe not the hair, but the beard…"

"The beard? We could make that happen." He said smiling.

The fireplace was roaring, and the orange light and gentle warmth filled the entire room. Elijah looked into Elena's eyes and tenderly touched her face, brushing away a lock of hair that was near her cheek. Elena shivered lightly and looked back into Elijah's eyes, now filled with the same tender look. The room was silent until they leaned in closer to one another, and the warmth from the fireplace seemed to get stronger. They touched their lips together, and a sudden spark of electricity ignited between them. Every fiber of their being seemed to take over, and they embraced each other in a passionate kiss. It was as if the entire world melted away, leaving just the two of them in the room.

The light from the fireplace danced around them as if it were in celebration, and the only sound was their hearts beating in unison. They stood in the moment until it became too much and they had to finally break apart. Neither of them wanted it to end, but even after they separated, they still felt as if the fire was still burning between them.

Back in town, Caroline had gone with Hayley to grab some gifts for Hope, when a man met up with Klaus.

"Did you get it?" Asked the hybrid.

"Yes." The man replied, giving Klaus a package.

Klaus opened it up and looked at the contents.

"Thank you." Said Klaus. "Now leave."

The man left and Klaus hid the package inside his pocket.

"Who was him?" Asked Caroline, arriving with Hayley.

"No one important, love. Shall we come back?"

Hayley and Caroline agreed. Klaus held Caroline's hand and the three of them came back to the compound.

[garthim-brooks]

I saw the 9/11 effect happen in real time. I was fresh out of high school and a lifelong country music fan as someone who grew up poor and rural and was introduced to the music by my parents - who, by the way, weren't conservative AT ALL. Some of my earliest memories are of hearing them shit-talking Reagan as working people who knew he was their enemy. My favorite artists at the time were Shania Twain, Garth Brooks, and the Chicks, then known as the Dixie Chicks. If you don't know what happened to them, story time.

It's important to understand that before 9/11, the Chicks were one of the most popular acts in country music, maybe even music in general. They were HUGE. They sold out stadiums and scored #1 hit after #1 hit. If you're Gen Z and don't know them, there's a very big reason for that. Welcome to (real) cancel culture!

After 9/11, the hyper-patriotism surged. Not just in country fandom - it was everywhere. But country artists capitalized on it. Thoughtful songs like Alan Jackson's "Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning" gave way to Toby Keith singing "we'll put a boot in your ass, it's the American way." Like the modern-day industry plants sneaking pro-capitalism messages into their lyrics, a lot of it was for show and for money. I read somewhere (citation needed) that Toby Keith is a registered Democrat. But it didn't matter. It stirred up outrage among the kind of rural conservatives who would go on to vote for Trump, the kind the right loves to use as pawns by convincing them that they can make their hard lives better by hating other people.

So bringing this back to the Chicks. At a performance, they spoke out against then-president George W. Bush invading Iraq. The backlash was swift and absolutely crushed them. Country stations blacklisted their music while DJs held public record-burning parties. (Sound familiar?) They received death threats and eventually stopped touring. For YEARS, they basically dropped off the map. They've only recently come back with new music and they're being recognized by the country world for their contributions, but without it really being acknowledged that their cultural impact would have been much bigger had they not been censored.

This doesn't DIRECTLY have a lot to do with Johnny Cash, who was around long before this, but it does explain why the post-9/11 generation might understandably think that country has always been a right-wing echo chamber. It hasn't. We had Johnny, and Dolly, and Willie, and yes even Garth, long before the "I love 'Murrrica and cheap beer and being exploited by my employer" wave took over. Those tides have been turning, too: we have artists now like Jason Isbell, Brandy Clark, Maren Morris, and countless others who are openly left-liberal in their politics and challenge artists like Aldean when they show their ass. There's finally more diversity in mainstream country. There are openly gay country artists who are popular. So nature is healing itself... but I suspect that's WHY we have an obvious plant like Oliver Anthony going on rants about welfare recipients instead of condemning the system that puts people in that position. There are people in the country establishment who don't want the genre to evolve and move left because then they can't use it as a propaganda machine to control poor rural people anymore.

The kids on TikTok think that just because he was a classic country singer, Johnny Cash was conservative??? My babies he covered a Nine Inch Nails song in his seventies.

Classic country singers (the majority of which came from poor roots) were always talking about how much The Man sucked because they were taking money from poor rural folk. You’re gonna tell me that’s conservative?? Get outta here.

[the-madrigals-bitch]

Oh hell yeah if ur requests are still open can I just have some Julietín angst 😇😇 (something like Agustín gets gravely injured and Julieta doesn’t find out until it’s **almost** too late)

Your request literally brought me back from the dead, it was fun to write in the most gutwrenching way possible! Julieta feeling anything but happiness hurts me to my core, but you asked for this, so I hope you enjoy reading. Thank you so much for your request! ♡

--

Gravely Injured

Julieta x Agustín

Words: 2.4k

Prompt: Agustín gets gravely injured and Julieta doesn't find out until it's (almost) too late.

--

The day started off as any other day would, with Julieta Madrigal waking early to get a head start on all the cooking she'd have to have done before life started for the rest of Encanto. Her husband, being the amazing man that he was, rose before even the sun did to help his wife in the kitchen and despite him usually doing more harm than good; she was grateful for his company. Agustín was, more often than not, also the first recipient of her magical healing food as he burned himself while preparing her coffee every morning. He placed the steaming cup down on the counter beside her and wrapped his arms tightly around the petit woman causing her to sigh contently and relax against his chest.

To say that he was a blessing was an understatement because Agustín Madrigal was an absolute godsend to Julieta and she didn't often think about what she would do if anything happened to him. He may have been accident prone, but considering that she could heal basically any ailment with just a ball of dough if she wanted, she didn't allow herself to worry about him for more time than absolutely necessary.

"You go lay down while you still can mi amor, I'll clean up in here," the slender man spoke softly, pressing a kiss to his wifes hair.

Julieta was touched by her husbands statement, but frowned, not satisfied to lay in bed without him so she dropped the dishes into the sink and took his hand,

"We can clean up later, but I'm not going to lay down without you."

She pulled him up the stairs with her, falling into their bed the way they always did and resting her head on his chest. The coffee he prepared helped in waking her slightly, but the constant state of perpetual exhaustion Julieta Madrigal felt was rooted deep in her bones. Relaxation only found her if she was wrapped up in his arms and she could only sleep to the sound of his heartbeat now. His hand found it's way into her hair, fingernails scraping lightly at her scalp in an action he knew would render the woman on top of him helpless to sleep.

When she next awoke, he was no longer underneath her and when her vision cleared enough to read the clock on the wall, she leapt out of bed in a frenzied panic. Julieta was never late, even when she was sick she always made sure she was awake early enough to help anyone who might need healing. Even more unbelievable than her being late was the fact that no one had come to wake her for breakfast. She zipped around her room faster than she ever had before, tearing off her nightdress and slipping into her usually baby blue shirt and skirt.

She brushed her teeth furiously, making her gums bleed in the process, but who had time to worry about that when golden child Julieta was late for the first time in her entire life. Her shoes found her feet as she walked thanks to Casita and she sprinted down the stairs, horrified to find that all the food she'd prepared that morning was missing from the kitchen. A steady throbbing started at the back of her head as she ran through the house, spotting her eldest daughter she bolted over,

"Good morning mi flor, do you happen to know what happened to all the arepas I made this morning?! Where's your father?"

"Tranquila mami," Isabela spoke calmly, a necklace of lavendar falling around her mothers neck as she led her outside. "Dad's passing them out now, this is the longest I've ever seen him go without having an accide-" he tripped speeding down the line of people who needed healing. "I spoke too soon."

Julieta's heart melted at the sight of her love doing her chores for her so that she could rest for just a little longer than usual. Walking right up, she pulled him up from the ground and pressed a gentle, but passionate kiss onto his mouth. Her eldest daughter turned away petrified at her parents public display of affection and walked off as fast as she could.

"Gracias Agustín," the salt and pepper hair woman spoke, giggling at his stunned face once she pulled away. "I can take it from here, you go start on your tasks for the day, I'll meet you later to help. I love you." She pressed an arepa into the palm of his hand just as she did every morning and watched him fade into the distance.

The rest of the day followed the same routine every other one had, she healed the townsfolk who needed it, kids ran up and hugged her legs in thanks, and occasionally one if not all of her daughters came to her to complain about their stresses. It was a day just like any other, until it wasn't. Usually Julieta got visits from her husband at least five times a day, he always had some injury that needed healed, but today he hadn't come to see her once. She tried not think too hard about it, she'd given him food to take with him so he was probably just making it last throughout the day, or maybe he was just having an accident free day. As if. Agustín, in the decades that she'd known the man, had never, ever gone a day without an accident and as if her worries were reflected onto the world, the sun was blocked out by dark, grey clouds.

"JULIETA!" Pepa cried as she raced towards her sister, hands on her knees as she gasped for hair. "Julieta, it's Agustín there was an accident and he-"

She didn't even wait for her sister to finish before she was running, she didn't know where she was going, but when no one corrected her, she assumed she was right. She followed the gastly face of the people who watched her until she spotted a crowd at the edge of the jungle. Bruno's eyes were red and wet when she forced her way into the middle of the crowd with Pepa hot on her heels.

"What happened?"

"A kid got lost, he joined the search party and slipped off the side of a cliff. He got hurt pretty bad Juli, it isn't looking good."

The eldest of the triplets eyes glazed over with tears as her brother spoke, her heart beating so violently in her chest that she swore her ribs were cracking.

"I have to help him, I- Let me go! I have to help him!" She thrashed against her siblings in vain, body going slack as she sobbed. "Please, he needs me."

Pepa and Bruno held their sister in a tight embrace, tears streaming down their cheeks as she cried against her brothers chest. They knew she was the only one who could help him, but they saw his mangled, lifeless body at the bottom of that cliff and they knew it was too late. Their hearts shattered for their eldest sibling and the second she felt their grip loosen, she forced her elbows against their ribs as hard as she could and ran as fast as possible to the front of the crowd.

"Juli don't!"

It was too late and when she saw him, the world around her shattered, she'd never seen so much blood in her entire life. She ran down the side of the cliff as fast as she could, tugging and ripping her dress off of anything that snagged it. Her ankle rolled and she scrapped her knees as she slid the rest of the way down, but the physical pain was nothing compared to what she was feeling inside.

"Mom!" "Juli!" Her siblings and daughters exclaimed, watching in horror as she tumbled all the way to the bottom.

She didn't notice the blood that ran down her legs as she ran and she didn't flinch when her open wounds hit the ground as she dropped down beside him, gripping his suit and shaking him desperatley.

"Agustín despierta por favor!" she pleaded, voice thick with tears that fell onto his face and cleared some of the blood and dirt away.

"Mama!" She heard her daughters again, followed by the snapping of twigs and ripping of fabric.

"Isa! Mirabel! Luisa! Stay up there! You can't come down here!"

She dug deep into her apron pockets and when she felt none of her magical healing food she knew she'd never forgive herself. Her mind went straight to her daughters, they absolutely adored their father, how could she possibly tell them that she wasn't able save him. She turned to the group who followed despairingly behind her,

"Please! I need-" then she saw them, the faces she'd been dreading to see.

Of course they didn't listen, how could she expect them to stand on the side when he was hurt. They stood frozen in place, eyes wide in agony and mouths hanging open as they look at their fathers bloodied unmoving body. Isabela was the first one to snap out of it, wrapping her arms around her two younger siblings and pulling them into her neck in an attempt to save them from the image they knew would be burned into the back of their eyelids for the rest of their lives. Julieta forced herself away from her husbands side to wrap her daughters in a tight hug, but Mirabel broke away and held a small vial out to her mother.

Julieta's mouth fell open now and she cupped her youngest daughters cheek, Mirabel always carried a small amount of her mother's helping potions in her bag, just in case. She tried to express how grateful she was for her daughters thoughtfulness with just her eyes before taking the bottle from her open palm and running back to Agustín. She pried his mouth open and tipped the bottle upside down, emptying its contents into it. She watched him for minutes, praying that his injuries would close and the color would come back to his face, but they didn't.

She pressed an ear to his chest, the heart beat that she fell asleep to every night was no longer. Large droplets of rain fell from the sky as a heartbroken scream of pain ripped through the air, the three sisters held each other close, sharing their mothers anguish and sobbing behind her. Julieta laid broken on his chest until his warm body went cold beneath her, pushing away anyone who tried to pull her from her husbands frame.

She could've been there for hours, clutching him close and desperatley seeking the comfort only he could bring her. Pepa and Bruno descended the cliff to comfort their nieces and Julieta gripped the hand that came to rest on her shoulder. The deep, sharp breaths she took hurt her chest and waves of dull, debilitating pain made their way across her body as she sobbed.

"Why are you crying mi vida?"

She didn't look up for fear that her mind was just playing tricks on her, but then she felt a cold hand cup her cheek and her heart stopped. Agustín smiled down at her weakly, injuries healing slowly but surely as he wiped the tears from his wifes face. She cried even harder and threw herself at him in a bone crushing hug as the pain subsided. When he mustered enough strength, he sat up and held her small frame close as she sobbed into his ear,

"I was so scared, I thought I lost you."

"You will never lose-"

"Dad!" the voices of their daughters wailed behind them, cutting their father off.

Three more bodies fell against the healing man and soon all of his girls were wrapped around him and weeping. The strongest of his daughters lifted them all in hug that crushed their lungs and when she finally dropped them, her father stood on shakey legs. Julieta and Isabela stood on either side of him, his arms around their shoulders as they helped him back up the cliff and out of the jungle. The town rejoiced as Agustín made his way through town, the clouds disspated and the sun shone while they walked back home. Once inside their Casita the couple showered together, the water was dyed a muddy red as Julieta made sure to wipe the crust from her husbands face and body. The kisses she gave him were wet from the shower and tears and he stopped to console her multiple times, wrapping her up in his arms and whispering apologies into her ear. Her two siblings offered to complete her task of passing out healing foods for the remainder of the day, understanding that she'd probably want to spend the rest of it by his side. The pair had just settled into bed when a knocking at the door disturbed them,

"Come in," Julieta spoke, lips turning up into a tender smile when the three Madrigal sisters stepped into the room.

They didn't say a word as they climbed into their parents bed, forcing themselves between the couple, desperate for parental comfort. Mirabel and Luisa rested on their fathers chest, tears forming in their eyes as they listened to his heart beat in their ears while Isabela curled into her mother. Julieta ran her fingers through her eldest daughters hair and Agustín kissed the younger pairs heads gently,

"I am so sorry for scaring you mis angeles," he mumbled to his family in a soft voice, tears welling in his own eyes as he thought of the pain he put them through. "I promise that I will never leave you, any of you."

Isa, Luisa, and Mirabel slept with their parents that night, the fear of losing either of them too great for them to leave their sides. It wasn't the most comfortable they'd ever been, but they were just happy to still be a complete family. For the next few weeks following his accident Agustín's daughters took it in shifts to trail him everywhere he went and Julieta made sure he always had a bottle of her healing liquid and at least four arepas on hand at any given time throughout the day. The days following started and ended just as they always had, with Julieta Madrigal falling asleep and waking up to the sound of her husbands heart beating.

--

Thank you guys for 100 followers by the way and for all the love you give my posts! I honestly thought that no one was going to be interested in my writings, so all of you who read and enjoy my writing I'm truly grateful for. Reading your comments and stuff makes my whole life lol so thank you so much!

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!

Have a good day/night! ♡

[sweetestlamb]

Still, I Rise

Summary: Damn teenagers and their angst. 

Author's Note: Back with another chapter, if you didn’t already know it I will be revealing our mystery character from the last chapter LOL please put down the bats and weapons (jk take them out it’s hilarious!) With this chapter we are getting closer to the “climax” and I am so excited to write the fun chapters I have planned ahead, one scene that I am really looking forward to writing is the camping trip, I had so much plans and events that I wanted to see that didn’t because TVN woke up and chose basic, we hate to see it. I can’t wait to rewrite history honestly also can’t wait to just move to onto regular schmegular teen problems, I swearrrrrrr. 

"Don't you dare embarrass me this time. You aren't ugly why can't you get these damn little rich brats to like you? Are you truly this useless? Don't come home if you can't make this one fall for you!"

Those had been his father's final words right before his hand split his lower lip open with a razor sharp blow that made his head whip in recoil. His father's footsteps faded as he walked away leaving him crumpled on the ground, anger and embarrassment raging in his blood. He hadn't chosen this life at all, never wanted to be a bargaining chip for that despicable man. First with Eun Dan Oh and now this new girl, Kang Sujin.

She'd initially stood him up and he had felt foolish sitting in the lavish restaurant by himself, checking his phone but no calls or messages arrived.

His father had been livid that night, more vicious than usual his stepmother's weak screams served as the soundtrack for his brutal beating. Why couldn’t she just be quiet? Did it make her feel better when she acted as if she actually gave a shit about him? His brother coming into his room after with those pathetic weeping eyes and a bandage had only made him angrier, he shoved him away slamming the door in his face, refusing his help. He didn't need anyone, nobody could save him from his horrible fate. 

It hadn't taken much research to find out her school and on impulse he'd gone there without her knowledge, watching from afar at first. A tiny girl with short hair framing her face had ran giggling into a taller girl with long dark hair and a classically beautiful face, they walked side by side smiling and laughing and that's when he'd heard her call out , "Sujin we should get something to eat!"

It wasn't love at first sight or anything ridiculous and disgustingly romantic like that, but he felt a connection to the girl for some inconceivable reason as if they were kindred spirits or something, maybe it was the remnant of a bruise he saw on her wrist hidden beneath her sweater. 

It seemed they had more in common then he had initially believed, it was a grim similarity. 

He'd gone home feeling less burdened than before, and his father's smile had been terrifying when he'd told him that he would work hard to win the girl over, only because he knew how quickly that smile could evaporate and his father could become the monster he was accustomed to. He tried not to flinch as the older man clapped him on the shoulder, his body already in fight or flight mode.

His father had merely smirked at his apparent fear.

Bastard.

So he'd taken to following the other girl around, she was going to be his fiancé anyway so he saw nothing wrong with it. And that was how he learned about the other boy, a tall slender boy who looked like someone that would grace an idol magazine cover. They were together more often than he liked, and it seemed more than platonic if the glances and subtle touches were a sign.

He wasn't jealous per se, but this would be a roadblock in his plan that he couldn't afford. He was getting used to not being beaten. 

The day he'd followed them to the hospital presented another challenge for him, he hated hospitals and what they represented with every fiber of his being. He'd spent too much time in them growing up and then again for a girl who couldn't care less about him, she was another reminder that he wasn't worthy of love. He had thought he loved her but still hurt her whenever she disobeyed him, he knew he was no better than his father.

Unexpectedly Sujin had burst through the hospital doors, surprising him and forcing him to hide lest she spot him, peeking out from his hiding place behind a tree he saw her distraught and near tears running the opposite direction. He stood in shock merely watching and waiting to see if the unknown boy would follow her, but thankfully he never came.

Pushing down his own wariness and discomfort he walked into the hospital immediately feeling a cold chill on his skin, he refused to call it trauma that made it sound like something was wrong with him. He was fine and he could do this.

Thankfully the nurses were too busy and nobody noticed him walking by and he froze when he spotted another man who was capable of making him flinch. Doctor Kang, he looked anything but approachable in his gleaming white lab coat and he remembered watching the man laugh with his father as they both sold their children without remorse. Instinctively he hid watching the man glare into a hospital room, he almost feared for whomever was the recipient of the ice cold gaze.

Minutes melted by before the doctor finally walked away, his steps clipped and echoing on the linoleum floors and he finally let out a sigh of relief when the other man disappeared around the corner.

Stealthily he rounded the corner and took the doctor's abandoned spot, peeking into the room through the small window in the door. It was that boy again, the idol wannabe but this time he wasn't alone there was a young girl with a bouquet in her arms and a older woman lovingly patting him on his cheeks.

His mother.

A loving one, at that. 

His blood seared watching the domestic scene, jealousy ripping through him like a tornado. There was no way he was letting this asshole have Sujin too, he already had too much. More than he, Baekyung would ever have.

                                                                The motorcycle roars under her thighs as they whip down the road. It only serves to remind her of the first time she was on a bike with another boy, his cologne and the scent of leather infiltrating her senses and making her heart jump through hoops. This time she feels nothing but annoyance and extreme frustration, barely holding onto the stranger in front of her as she leans forward to yell above the engine, "Pullover!"

She knows he heard her based on the immediate tension in his body but he continues to ride ignoring her request demand. With a grunt she grabs onto his waist only to bodily drag them to the side not caring if they both crash at this point she cannot stand another second on this bike with him, instantly he straightens them before skidding to the side and finally pulling the brakes bringing the motorcycle to a halt, the moment the bike stops she hops off in a frenzy.

Thrusting the bottom piece of his helmet up he screams at her, "Are you insane? You could have hurt us!"

She bares her teeth at him, ready to unleash her full anger on him now without an audience. 

"Who the fuck are you? And why did you come to my school?" She bellows glaring poisonously at the strange idiot who had single handedly upended her day.

Moving calmer than she's feeling, he dismounts finally pulling his helmet off and then squeezing it under his arm looking down at her. 

With a condescending look he stares at her, "You know exactly who I am, don't play dumb it's beneath you."

He's right. She does know who he is although she had never seen him or known his name, she had truly thought she could ignore him and he would disappear. Just like with her father that was proving to be an erroneous dream that would never come true. 

"But I'll formally introduce myself since we are going to be engaged soon after all, Baekyung. You can call me oppa though."

Engaged soon.

Her head spins from his words, she feels terror shift over her like a thick suffocating blanket.

"You don't even know me. Why would you even agree to this?" She stares at him in disbelief, at a loss to his acquiesce to their tragic fate.

The look in his eyes haunt her, it's like staring in a mirror and gazing back at the person she was months ago. Somehow without her knowledge or consent she'd changed, grown even and therefore started believing that her life was just that, hers.

"You act like we have a choice. Don't be stupid, we have to just do as we're told. It's easier this way for everyone." He repeats those words that she herself had uttered to Seojun not so long ago, a sense of deja vu washes over her. 

"How is letting ourselves be used easier? Don't you have your own dreams or aspirations? Isn't there someone you actually like?" She knows the error of her argument immediately as she says it, his eyes narrow into thin enraged slits and she can practically feel the anger vibrating off him.

"Don't pretend to care about me. This is about you and your little boyfriend," he spits the word like acid and immediately she remembers those chilling words he had whispered in her eyes earlier, "Do you think he'll be safe?" That was all it had taken for her to go with him, he couldn't get hurt she wouldn't allow that to happen ever. She had no idea what those ominous words meant and how this boy could pose a threat to Seojun but she knew she had to hear him out and protect Seojun anyway she possibly could. 

"He's not the only one you should be worried about." The smug bastard continues with a humorless grin on his face and suddenly the dots connect, her father outside of Ms. Han's hospital room and that calculating look on his face. Her stomach drops.

"Leave them out of it!" She screams embarrassed at the urgent plea in her voice but she can't help it, she's so scared more than she's ever been for herself.

"Well that all depends on you doesn't it? Your dear father will have no reason to do anything to them if you listen like a good daughter and date me as expected."

She stands frozen once again feeling helpless, it kills her inside all her growth slipping down the drain in a matter of seconds.

"Why are you doing this?"

He stills at her question, his cold mask dropping and leaving something numb and unreadable in its place. It feels familiar to her, she awaits his answer with bated breath.

"I want to live, even if I have no control over it. I'd rather be alive."

Thunder clashes above them, the previously sunny day shifting into a gray dark distortion, heavy storm clouds ominously loom above them and the first raindrops land perfectly on her cheeks, crying the tears that she refuses to let fall. She has no more left to cry.

Confusion is an understatement to express Su-ah's true feelings following the mysterious boy on the motorcycle, when she finally gets Sujin on the phone the other girl is quiet and mumbling, evading all her questions and as soon as she mentions Seojun, Sujin shuts down hastily ending their conversation with some nonsensical excuse. 

That was not going to be the end, Sujin might want to play dumb about the true nature of their relationship but she wasn't part of the circus. She was no clown, she had eyes and it was clear that they liked each other and it was only growing the more time they spent together. She wouldn't let her best friend sabotage something that could be great for her, she deserved happiness and Seojun made her happy. So it was truly that simple. 

Stomping up the slight incline to school, she huffs and puffs determined. She was going to talk some sense into the other girl.

Those thoughts come crashing all around her when she sees Sujin coming out of a car, a car that she has never seen before and her questions are answered when the boy from yesterday steps out after her. Every eye in a ten mile radius is watching them, captivated by this new school scandal. Girls already squealing and giggling, envious of Sujin and doing very little to hide their true feelings. 

“Why is he with her? She isn’t even that pretty. He should be with me.” 

The lies people told themselves to sleep at nights, sad. 

Accidentally knocking the gossiping girl to the side with a rough shoulder check, ignoring her dramatic cry she sprints the rest of the way, once again pushing through the crowd to get to Sujin.

Immediately their eyes lock and she begs Sujin for a answers, What happened? Why are you doing this? What’s going?,  she flinches at the cold emotionless stare she gets in response. She watches in dismay as the tall boy bends down as if to hug Sujin and that's when a loud grumble fills the air, she turns around to the all too familiar sight of Seojun on his motorcycle. He revs the handle bar causing the crowd to part like the Red Sea, then he rides slowly until he's right next to Sujin bike inches away from touching her.

With a practiced motion he tugs off his helmet, those sloping feline eyes already on Sujin in a hard stare.

The tension is insurmountable and cloying and Su-ah watches transfixed before Sujin breaks the impasse, tugging her bookbag over her shoulder she stomps into the school without a word to either boys. But then the interloping boy calls out, “Have a good day. Princess,” and Sujin stops immediately at the word, turning around with a ferocious look in her eyes, “Don’t call me that. My name is Kang Sujin to you. That’s all.” Su-ah sees the way that Sujin’s eyes almost subconsciously seek out a certain cat eyed boy and feels like she misses an entire conversation between the two before Sujin finally walks away. 

The mysterious boy glares at her retreating back before shooting a cold glare at Seojun and then promptly hopping back into his car, the backseat as he's chauffeured away.

"Oh my god! That was so hot! Princess?” 

"Who is that? Does Kang Sujin have a boyfriend? Wow, she’s mean to her boyfriend too. What a bitch.” 

Why do you think Seojun looked so angry?"

"Maybe he's worried about losing his bad boy title!"

The crowd erupts around them in loud voices, all curious about what they've witnessed and already creating rumors to appease their curiosity. Suddenly a loud motorcycle screech causes them all to jump silence falling over the crowd before Seojun rides away, the tight clench in his jaw visible even from her distance.

Lunch is a step above awkward, bordering into painful. The easy conversation that used to be a staple of the table is all but decimated, instead everyone eats quietly chilled by the cold air permeating from both Seojun and Sujin. They only speak when spoken to and avoid all eye contact, especially each others. It's painful to be a witness to and she notes regretfully that neither are eating home made lunch today, opting for the school lunch instead.

Sujin had never officially told her but she knew that they were making food for each other, their smiles watching the other eat made it too obvious.

This was serious. Looking at them now they looked like complete strangers, everyone was too nervous to question the elephant in the room. Everyone except poor Chorong.

"Why is everyone was so awkward today? What did you two fight or something? Why do we all have to suffer because of your lover's quarrel? Just kiss and make up already."

The table all looked on with opened mouths except Suho and herself who both looked worried instead.

And people thought she was slow, how had they all not realized what was happening? It was clear as day.

She flinches at his well-meaning words that are evidently not well received by either teen, watching them both glare at the table unmoving and the silence drags out painfully before Seojun breaks the stalemate. Standing without preamble he glares at Chorong before placing the stare on Sujin, it does nothing to change her unaffected stare. With a loud sigh he stomps away, despite his friends dismayed shouts of his name.

She continues to eat her lunch, watching Sujin in her peripheral.

She looks like she has the weight of the world on her shoulder and Su-ah for the first time in their friendship has no idea what to do.

But when they all start to funnel out of the cafeteria she follows the other girl anyway, tugging her into an enclave where they are hidden from the rest of their classmates Sujin cries out at the sudden jerk but loses her defensive stance when she realizes it’s just her. 

“What?”

“What’s going on? Why are you letting that punk bring you to school and why are you and Han Seojun acting like you broke up before you even started officially dating? Sujin-ah, please tell me what’s going on.” She pleads latching onto the other girl’s arm peering up at her with puppy dog eyes, they have never failed her before. 

“I can’t tell you yet, I’m sorry.”

There’s a first time for everything and she frowns at Sujin feeling like there is a mountain between them. She can’t help the hurt that she feels knowing the other girl doesn’t trust her enough to tell her what’s going on. She thought they had moved past all the secrets and hiding but obviously she was wrong. 

“I really am sorry. But I will tell you everything soon enough.”

She releases Sujin’s arm, ready to walk away. She hates being in the dark. But before she can walk away, she feels Sujin hand on the bottom of her sweater tugging her backwards, she looks back with a perplexed glare. 

“Do you trust me?” 

She stares at Sujin and the soft tilt of her head as she asks the question, and her answer is easy, although she has no idea what’s going on and none of this makes any sense to her she doesn’t have to think about that answer. 

"You shouldn't do this to him. It's too cruel." Suho expects a biting retort or even a call for him to mind this damn business, so he's shocked breathless when instead the other girl smiles at him, a tiny almost indecipherable thing that makes her lips thinner. 

"You two have come a long way." Sujin responds unexpectedly shaking her head and walking over to the couch, before beckoning him over too.

He stares feeling suspicious but ultimately he follows, curiosity winning.

"I think I'm ready." Sujin expels a deep breath, twisting her hands nervously in her lap. Before he can ask her what exactly she's ready for she continues, "I want to tell your father what happened if you really think he'll help me."

He's too late to swallow the strangled gasp that escapes from his lungs and he leans back in surprise. He wants to continue his conversation about Seojun but he’s scared to do anything to make the other girl retreat or change her mind now. That conversation will have to wait for another day.  

Sorry Seojun. 

"Are you sure? You're really ready to do this?"

There's a long pause and he watches a myriad of emotions run across Sujin's usually expressionless face until something that looks suspiciously like hope blossoms making her glow brighter than the sun.

"Yes. I want to try living just for me."

Blinking away the moisture in his eyes, he pulls out his cellphone sending his father a message.

Please come over.

It only takes seconds but it feels like an eternity before his father replies, he smiles at the message.

On my way.

He stands up to put the kettle on the fire, he knows that tonight will be a long night and he needs something to keep his hands occupied.

When his doorbell rings he's shocked when Sujin stands up looking at him with a serene gaze, "I'll get it." He only nods at her in reply, watching as she greets his father and man recovers quickly at the unexpected visitor, smiling warmly at Sujin before pulling her into a warm embrace.

Even more surprisingly Sujin doesn't flinch, allowing herself to be wrapped up.

His father embraces him as well, patting him on the back and again on the head when they break apart. He can feel Sujin's eyes on them and he moves away guiltily. Now isn’t the time to rub his burgeoning relationship with his father in her face. 

"Have a seat Dad, thank you for coming so quickly."

His father lifts an eyebrow at the sudden serious tone of his voice but he follows his directions nonetheless folding his hands on his lap and looking inquisitively between the two teenagers.

"Is there something you both want to tell me? Perhaps you two are....." His father motions vaguely between them and he stares back not comprehending until his father smiles slyly and Sujin beats him to it, protesting ardently.

"No! No, it's nothing like that. There's someone else...I mean no. That's what what we wanted to talk about."

He raises an eyebrow at Sujin's slip and his father chuckles at her stuttering and the red blaze across her cheeks.

His father waves his arms in appeal, apologetic grin on his face. "Sorry I didn't mean to embarrass you both. I just always hoped you two might one day. A father can dream."

He scoffs at his father, "Give up on that dream she's like family to me. We would never see each other that day."

Sujin nods passionately in agreement and his father shrugs easily, now looking even more curious than before.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

Sujin stills on her spot on the couch, the determination in her bones seeming to melt away with every passing minute. He fears this won't go as planned and he has no idea how to motivate her.

Then a loud vibration rumbles from the couch and it takes Sujin a moment to realize it's her phone, he watches curiously as she looks at the message and then a single tear runs down her round cheek. The determination curls back around her like armor, he watches in amazement as she sits taller turning to look at his father with newfound courage or maybe it wasn’t newfound but suddenly uncovered by whatever she had seen on her phone. 

“Suho asked you for help for me. I’m really the one who needs your help.” He can hear the slight quiver and hitches in her words but she gets them all out and instantly she has his father’s undivided attention, he even turns his body to fully face the girl. Pride swells in his chest at the sight, he was worried his father would only be adamant about helping him directly as a way to get closer to him but now he can see that he was wrong about the other man. Genuine concern fills every line and wrinkle of time on his face. 

“What is wrong? What do you need help with and why can’t you tell your parents?” It’s a innocent question, and logical too but he fears Sujin’s reaction, when she feels like she is backed into a corner in the past that has led to her lashing out with dagger sharp remarks, he watches with his heart lodged in his throat.

“Because they are the ones hurting me.” 

His lungs deflate releasing all the air that was trapped in the sacs, she said the truth without hesitation and he turns to glance at his father watching him process the bomb that she has just dropped on him. His father opens and closes his mouth several times, before finding his voice it is but a whisper when he responds to Sujin. 

“That time you needed a doctor.” The statement is directed to Suho and with a sober nod he confirms what his father already knows, with a loud sigh his father sinks into the couch quiet rage on his face. “I should have known, you always seemed so scared of him but I thought it was just his parenting style I never thought...never expected that he would....I should have done something!” 

Sujin laughs, it is pained and small but he hears it and immediately turns to look at her, “He sounds just like you like father like son I guess,” Sujin directs that at him and he blushes in memory, he can’t deny the claims. Then she turns back to his father with surprisingly soft eyes, “Don’t blame yourself, just help me now if you can.” 

“I will use all of my resources to make sure he spends his life in jail.” 

Suho jumps in his seat looking over at Sujin, that is way more than they had ever discussed that was what he truly wanted for the monstrous man but it always seemed like too much to ask for but here was his father saying it as if it was completely plausible. 

“Jail? Do you really think he can go to jail? It would be his word against mine, I never took any pictures. I was stupid.” Sujin berates herself, and before he can dismiss the self inflicted insult his father is already moving closer and putting a large hand on her trembling shoulder, only then does he realize how the girl is shaking like a new leaf. 

“No, it will be my word against his. I will also get that report from Doctor Kim, that could be used as evidence. You’re just a kid and a victim, I’ll handle this you don’t need to do anything else. You’ve handled enough on your own, we got you now.” His father looks over at him as if waiting for his approval and he moves onto the couch with them both, after a moment’s pause putting his hand on Sujin’s other shoulder. 

“We got you.” 

Jukyeong glances over nervously at Seojun the aroma of coffee thick in the air as she sweeps up the beans she had clumsily spilled on the ground, she waited for Seojun to playfully scold her as he often did when she messed up at work but the reprimand never came and when she glanced over at him he had been staring longing at his cellphone. 

Su-ah had been the first to notice how weird him and Sujin acted around each other and despite not having a lot of experience with relationships, especially those of the romantic kind she could see that they didn’t hate each other as much as Sujin tried to drive the deceptive point home. They were always teasing each other and Seojun found any excuse to be near Sujin and soon he wasn’t the only one, they just seemed to naturally gravitate to each other at times bickering so much it was like they were the only two people in the room. 

But all that had come to an abrupt end with the sudden appearance of the boy on the motorcycle, the entire school was in a uproar over him, Baek Kyung, she had heard the other girls whispering his name. On paper he seemed very similar to Han Seojun, same bad boy persona and affinity for motorcycles and glares. But the biggest difference she noticed was Sujin's reaction to them both, she had heard from some gossiping girls how vehemently Sujin had declared that Baek Kyung not call her “princess”, a moniker she had commonly heard Seojun use to refer to the girl.  Sujin never stopped him these days, instead rolling her eyes and speeding up to escape from him, he would chase after all calling her the sweet nickname all the way. 

When Seojun would use it to refer to her in passing such as, “Are you gonna eat that princess?” Those were times that Sujin didn’t react at all, simply handing him whatever food in her container had caught his eye that she had ignored. 

They were casually domestic in a way that they never seemed to realize and she couldn’t help but categorize. Seojun liked Sujin that was becoming clearer and it seemed like the feeling was mutual, even if the girl wasn’t yet ready to admit it. 

Which was why this new development came as a complete shock to her, why was Sujin suddenly giving her attention to someone else? 

“Did you guys have a fight? Just tell her you’re sorry.” She offers out of the blue, and Seojun turns to her with a puzzled look drying a mug with a cloth, “What are you talking about now clumsy?” 

Thankfully the shop is empty, she quirks at eyebrow at him folding her arm when he continues to play dumb. 

“Sujin. You guys clearly had a fight, you’re both so hot tempered. Her temper is probably worst than yours though so just apologize okay? It’s better than fighting.” 

He stares at her with a blank face before turning away, rubbing firmer at the mug in his hands and she worries for its safety. 

“Why should I apologize when she’s the one who’s with another guy? Don’t worry about me, I will be fine. Clearly this was one-sided. She doesn’t like me.” 

She openly laughs at him now, looking at him like he has two heads. “What are you talking about? If she didn’t like you then why did she follow you to your mom’s hospital? She tried to be all sneaky but Chorong told us everything. Plus she always gets jealous when other girls give you food at school and don’t think we don’t all know that you guys make food for each other!” 

He whips around looking at her with huge eyes, “Wait you all knew? So when I said that someone special made it for me? You knew?” 

She smiles brightly, “Yep. It wasn’t subtle at all.” 

He sighs in annoyance, turning away to hide the pink on his face. 

“I’m not apologizing. I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

She sighs at the boy’s words, knowing that this fight might go on longer than it needs to and she wishes she could just shake some sense into both of them, why were they choosing to suffer like this? 

Damn teenagers and their angst. 

Grumbling she goes to take a customer’s order, glancing over at Seojun with a final sad smile. 

Hopefully they can figure this out without falling apart. 

Time seems to move slower than usual today and he almost pumps a fist in  triumph when he sees that it’s finally eight and they are free to leave. 

“Do you want to me to walk you to the bus stop?” He offers Jukyeong out of politeness but she shakes her head no, telling him that she is going to meet with her older sister for dinner running out before him and hailing a cab, he smiles at the sight that’s one girl who loves to eat. 

Turning off the lights in the shop, he turns over the “open” sign and locks the door behind him. The cool spring night air brushes against his cheeks and he makes his way to his motorcycle, mounting in one motion and sighing as it purrs to life before he speeds off his destination already in mind. He bobs and weaves through traffic, smirking at idiot drivers who blare their horns at him when he inches too close to their precious car but even they are not enough to rain on his parade. 

When he finally arrives, he bounces off the bike throwing the helmet onto the handlebar carelessly before bounding over to the figure he sees waiting. 

He can’t help the smile that tugs against his lips, ultimately setting it free as the figure turns around at the sound of his boot stomping on the ground. 

“Did you wait long?” He asks moving closer until he can feel the heat wafting off the body in front of him. 

“No, I only just got here too. Why are you smiling like that? You look deranged.” 

He smiles wider, feeling mischievous after what a certain klutz had revealed to him with a smirk he leans closer to her, grinning harder when she leans back looking at him with a confused glare. 

“I heard from a certain birdie that you followed me to the hospital and that you get jealous when other girls give me food. Is that true princess?” 

Sujin growls at him, shoving his shoulder hard before stomping away to the park bench. He eagerly follows after her, throwing his arm over her shoulder smiling at her wearing yet another one of his sweaters, this time a black one that reaches the bottom of her knees and completely hides whatever she is wearing underneath. She looks equally sexy as adorable and it makes his blood boil in a way he has been trying harder and harder to suppress around her. 

“I knew you would try to milk the situation. This isn’t why I told you everything.” 

He smiles recalling what Sujin is referring to. 

Just a day go.....

He stares angrily at his phone in utter disbelief that she would have the gall to call him after what had just happened. She had left on another boy’s motorcycle even though he had asked her not to, he didn’t know what was going on but seeing her leave like that, he wished he knew how to turn off all his feelings for her. No other human should have this kind of power or control over him but here he was ready to burst because she had picked someone else over him. 

“What do you want?” He barks out answering the call with a hard press of his finger and immediately he starts to lose some of his fire when he hears her soft staggered breaths on the other line. 

“Seojun, can you meet me somewhere?” 

He wants to say no, to bitterly hang up on her and tell her that he has someone new too but that would be a lie and he desperately wants to see her and hold her and find out why she decided to rip his heart out and stomp on it.  

Feeling pathethic he answers her with a sigh, “Where are you?”  

Songnisan park. It’s not too far from their school and he hangs up without answering hopping on his bike and riding to her. Maybe it’s stupid but he can’t turn his back on her just yet, he still wants to hear her out even if she’s going to break his heart. 

By the time he reaches the park it’s raining, pouring down in sheets despite the warm weather and he immediately sees Sujin sitting under the downpour while other park goers are running and using picnic blankets as makeshift umbrellas. 

The scenes feels all too familiar and he wonders if this will be their end? Would life be that poetic to have them end the same way they became? 

Sighing he tugs his sweater off, walking quickly to close the gap between them before sitting beside her and thrusting his sweater above both their heads, protecting them from the rain. 

She turns to him with a gasp and he realizes how closely they are sitting beside each other, he can feel her breath when she exhales and it washes over in an intoxicating breeze. He has to forcibly put some distance between them before he does something that he knows he shouldn’t, especially not now. 

“My father knows about us. He saw me at the hospital and I’m scared he saw your mother and sister too. I don’t think I should visit anymore.” 

He pauses to process her words and he feels his chest tighten with anger at the mention of that sub-human, if he ever tried to harm a hair on his family’s head that would be the last thing he ever did. But once the rage passes by he thinks of the rest of Sujin’s sentence, my father knows about us. 

They were an us. 

There was an us for people to know about? 

“Us?” He replies stupidly, unable to stop his heart from fluttering. 

With a sound of exasperation she looks over at him, “How is that the most important thing that I said?” The pretty blush on her face does not go unnoticed but he responds to her statement staying focused, “My mom was discharged today. They said it was just a scare and nothing serious. He can’t do anything to us, if he tries I’ll kill him.” 

He means it, every single word falling from his lips. 

He’s not prepared for Sujin to sob and drop her head onto his shoulder, he drops their sweater umbrella at the sudden pleasant weight feeling the rain drench his hair and shirt instantly. 

“I’m so happy to hear that. I was so worried about all of you.” 

A bubble of happiness explodes in his chest and he’s so close to just letting go of all his anger and holding her, seeing her so worried about his family is almost enough to undo him. 

But, he can’t forget the image of her riding off with someone else. His heart will never forget that ache, that indescribable pain.

“So you care about me now? Is that why you left me like that today? Because you care so much?”

He is being petty, he knows that but he can’t stop the jealousy that is fueling him right now. His green eyed monster is raring its ugly head. 

“That’s the guy you told me to stand up, remember? That’s the guy my father is trying to sell me to. He’s been following us and he knew about you, he threatened you. I did what I had to, I have to do this until I speak to Suho’s father. I think.....No. I’m ready now. I’m going to tell him everything and ask for his help.” 

His heart is pounding erratically in his chest, he can barely hear the rain over the loud thumping of the organ and he can’t believe he ever doubted her, feels guilt twist around him but he pushes that aside to take in everything she has confessed to him, without saying the words she has all but confirmed everything Jukyeong carelessly exposed to him in the coffee shop, she cares about him too enough to want to protect him at any cost. But most importantly she was starting to care about herself, she no longer saw her life as expendable and was willing to ask for help even at the expense of revealing her darkest secret and getting her hopes up. 

Fuck she was the bravest person he knew. 

Without thinking he tugs her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight hug before he realizes what he’s doing but by the time he starts to move back she’s already hugging him back, her arms tight around his shoulder and her head in the dip of his neck and it’s too perfect to stop now. Absently he strokes her wet silky smooth hair and when they finally draw apart, the barest amount of space between them he takes another risk, glancing at her eyes pleading and then smiling when she nods, giving him permission even without knowing what he plans to do, simply trusting him, he leans forward and plants a soft butterfly kiss on her forehead, she hisses in response but instead of moving away she latches on to him tighter. 

“I’m so proud of you baby.” He kisses her again, firmer this time putting all the love and pride he feels for her in that gentle kiss to her brow. 

He expects a lot of things in response to his bold move and the new nickname, a punch, a kick, her loud denial and rejection, he is emotionally prepared for any and all of those reactions, but instead she steals his breath away when she smiles up at him, looking into his eyes and he realizes that she’s looking for permission too and he nods, nervous and anxious to see what she will do. 

With a moment’s hesitation she tugs him down and he goes easily, his heart in his chest and he closes his eyes as her face draws closer to him, his heart is pattering now a crazy thundering mess filled to the brim with anticipation. 

He feels her plush lips against his cheek, the rain making the skin slick and he hums in encouragement as the kiss lingers before he opens his eyes and immediately they are lost in each other’s eyes and he can feel their faces moving closer as if opposite ends of a magnet and he waits for her to stop them, to push him away and run off but she is just as lost as him, moving closer too and when only centimeters separate their lips, a loud crash of thunder booms high above their heads making them jump apart, both flying to opposite ends of the bench. 

“We should...um get out of this rain before we catch a cold.” 

The ride home is awkward and he can barely breathe with how tightly she’s holding his waist but he smiles through the rain, taking care to move carefully on the wet streets not wanting to hurt Sujin and then they are in front of Suho’s apartment, much too fast to his disappointment. 

They both sit unmoving for a few seconds before Sujin releases his waist from her death grip and gets off the bike. 

“Let’s talk over there for a minute.” He states dismounting too and walking over to the scaffold so they can escape the torrential rain for a moment at least. 

They stand awkwardly shivering from the cold in their wet clothes, it’s obvious that Sujin is embarrassed about what happened- their kisses-but he can barely contain his joy, if he were alone right now he would be doing backflips. 

This day as made a complete 180 turn for the better. 

“I have to pretend to date him. We already agreed to come to school tomorrow. He agreed to stop following me if I let him take me to school and go on dates. He has to put on a show for his father too.” She says talking so fast that the words slur together and he wonders absently if she’s nervous? And if so, why? Was she nervous about his reaction? 

He nods in understanding, “Okay. I forgot to say it earlier, but thank you for telling me and not leaving me in the dark. I appreciate it.” 

That’s the logical part of his response, he knows what it took for Sujin to involve him in her plan and how huge it is that she hadn’t wanted him to misunderstand her feelings and motives. But she’s still the girl that he likes and he can’t help the illogical things that flood his mind too. 

“Not on his motorcycle though.”

She looks at him with a deep searching stare and he simply stares back, nonplussed. He knows what he sounds like, a bargaining jealous boyfriend. That’s exactly what he wants to be so he sees no reason to attempt to explain himself, whatever she’s thinking is true and he isn’t the least bit ashamed to admit it. At his unabashed stare she crumples looking away with a barely hidden smile, “Okay. Not on his bike. Even though I never told you that you were allowed to have conditions, this isn’t a negotiation.” She complains but the sting is gone because she has already agreed to his request, he flashes a smile at her. 

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. I will have to act jealous, that shouldn’t be too hard.” He winks at her and this time she does try to punch him, he barely dodges her fist. 

Such a violent little thing. 

“I never said you had to do anything.”

He shrugs, “It makes sense. I like you so it would only make sense that I would be jealous if I thought you were dating someone else, plus he will probably want to see that too.” 

She’s as red as a strawberry as she sprints away from him without another word, waving at him over her shoulder. 

He smiles all the way home, before falling into bed after a much needed warm shower, his toes and fingers were like ice chips when he finally got home. 

Remembering one more thing, he grabs his phone shooting a quick text message. 

Don’t let him call you nicknames. Only Sujin. 

Reading it back he determines that the message is a bit too...commanding and if he wants to keep a certain boot out of his ass he better fix it so he swiftly adds:

Please. 

Present time....

“I didn't do anything. She just suddenly started telling me how much you adore me and how you can’t live without me and that I should just forgive you and take you back.” He sniffles dramatically watching amused as Sujin rolls her eyes, before angrily pulling out her phone, he laughs suddenly worried for Jukyeong so he snatches the object from her hands, much to her chagrin. 

“I might have exaggerated about what she said, a teeny tiny bit.” He demonstrates the small amount with his fingers and she glares at him biting out, “Liar,” before snatching back her phone and stuffing it in her pockets with a grumble. 

Getting serious he turns to look at her with anticipation, “How did it go? Were you able to tell him everything?” She is staring out at the horizon, despite him boring a hole in the side of her head begging for eye contact. 

“I hesitated. I lost my confidence.”

He can hear the defeat in her voice and without a pause he opens his mouth to comfort her and tell her how strong she is and explain why this is just a minor setback but next time they can go together and if she needs him to he will hold her hand the entire time and give her every last drop of his support and--

“But then I got a message and it gave me courage. So I told him everything and he agreed to help me. He wants to send my dad to jail, not just emancipate me.” 

She did it. 

She really did it. 

He smiles at her wider than the ocean. 

“You did it, Sujin.”

She stares at him in palpable shock, he immediately knows why it’s not often he uses her name and he expects her to be happy that he isn’t calling her the nickname she is always dismissing, she’s always so adamant that she is not a princess much less his princess.  

“Don’t call me that.” She says finally turning to meet his eyes and he stares back confused because he had only said her name, why was that a problem? Wasn’t that what she had been trying to get him to call her since the first time he dubbed her princess? 

“What do you want me to call you then?” 

He is truly asking but the look she gives him makes him feel like the dunce in the corner of the room and realization unfurls in his body like a slow moving tsunami and he smiles unbridled at the epiphany. 

He hasn’t wanted to get his hopes up by making assumptions about what this is but maybe it’s time that he have some confidence now, he was someone important to her. She had already proved that in so many ways these past days. 

Taking her hand in his, he smiles brightly at her. 

It’s the first time that he has held her hand, and he can feel the damaged skin in his own smoother hand. His heart aches for only a moment, her hands are just like her they might look bruised and pitiful at first glance but beneath the broken surface lurked unimaginable strength and power and just like the rest of her, they were imperfectly perfect. He never wanted to hold another hand, this was the only one he needed. 

“Good job, you did it Princess.” 

She smiles up at him, looking gorgeous-heart stoppingly so-and he can’t help the way his chest constricts as if he didn’t know it already he knows it now unequivocally . 

He, Han Seojun belongs to Kang Sujin. 

[ulyflynn]

Uly had always liked two truths and a lie until he had to live a never ending game of it with Edie.

His truth was one, her truth was the other and the lie was that neither of them were in the right and neither of them were in the wrong. He's no regrets and all regrets all at once, a clusterfuck of conflicts and contradictions where none of it made sense and all if it did.

His mind can barely register what she's regurgitating, the coke mostly to blame for why it all sounds a little like static and causes his jaw to twitch with the rest of it residing on the fact he hadn't even read his own file. He left that all up to his attorney, a mistake that he estimates cost him an extra six to eight months of his life once he realised how incompetent his was.

Me safe was me with you.

He wants to scream at her for that, right in her ear, to reach whatever pathway might carry what he needs her to understand directly from his lips to whatever recess in her brain refused to entertain his point of view.

If she was safe with him then it never would have happened.

He took the only steps he knew how to take to keep the only person he cared about safe and it didn't matter.

None of it fucking mattered.

The worst of it for him was the anger didn't erase everything else he still felt for her, he would always love her more than he could make himself hate her. He would always want to kiss her when he was this close to her despite everything that's been said.

He almost does until she takes matters into her own hands, catching him off guard enough to catch him between her teeth, biting down with enough malice behind it that it stings instantly.

( A part of him's impressed she still knew to go for the soft parts, just like he used to tell her. )

Uly's never minded being the recipient of her bite before, but it had usually been in the throes of something, a playful nip to his ear when she wanted his full focus around other people or a well-earned bite mark on his shoulder to keep for a few hours when he fucked her how she liked.

This was different, there's no affection behind it.

"You fucking bitch," He practically spits as he yanks his hand away before she has the chance to break skin, a pulsing beneath his skin where there would no doubt be a bruise before long that he could take with him.

He had told her to show him she still cared and he still spoke Edie Tello fluently enough to know that tomorrow when the sun rose and the substances faded in his bloodstream, he would catch sight of his hand and know she still loved him.

Once he's retracted himself from where he had her pinned and crowded, he's hunched over and rage-filled, flexing his hand like it might banish the sting. It doesn't and when he realises it might not subside for minutes yet, he straightens and puts his closed fist through the glass of a cabinet door on the opposite side of the sink to where she's perched.

The pain that causes is an explosion that matches the same way the glass is reduced to shards on impact, but it's his choice.

With his dad long gone, he had resolved that he would never let anyone else hurt him again, not without doubling it back. He would never hurt her, but he's never had a problem hurting himself. He can feel glass embedded between his knuckles, and the trickle of his own blood flowing from fresh gashes feels warm like a childhood memory.

( For him, it was. )

He can barely feel where her mouth had been then through the pain.

"Fuck you. Fuck you. I just--Fuck."

He can't keep living in this same cyclone with her, destined to go round and round, round for round until there was nothing left of either of them. He takes another look at her then, his eyes pleading for something he doesn't have the words for then, the glass crunching beneath his now bloodstained shoes as he diffuses the situation the only way he knew how.

By removing himself from it to seek out the best friend he's decided was at the root of it.

@edietello

"I'm not rewriting history I am reciting fucking evidence," Edie growls to him through her teeth, plastic cup thrown to the ground like the only type of gauntlet she could afford -- the mix of punch and tequila left to be a sticky mess for someone else to clean up.

(She so rarely got to be the kind of reckless that there wouldn't be a consequence for.)

The newly freed hand raised to point a finger at him in accusation.

"'Cellphone location data shows that on July 17th at 3:13 am the accused left his residence and traveled southbound on Main Street until he located the victim's vehicle outside of The Reef bar, where the defendant is then shown on the business's exterior security footage starting at 3:47 am.' That is facts, that is fucking court record. I am not rewriting history. I am not lying and I am not crazy. I was there and you left. You left! You left!"

She knows every word of his case from the front to the back -- she could monologue it like Shakespearean tragedy at the drop of a hat. She'd sat on every proceeding, she'd hounded his public defender during every waking hour and several sleeping ones. She'd written letters to the judge, she'd pulled every law school string she had, and she'd slept on top of case files because she couldn't stand the guilt of closing her eyes if the solution had been on the next page.

She'd never left. It -- him -- had lived with her every single day. After she'd made a mistake. After he took her off his visitors list. After her letters got sent back.

"And you knew I needed you. Me safe was me with you."

It always had been. In a world where she had so often struggled to fit in, to know what the right move was, to know if she was feeling was right -- Uly had been her safe place for it.

She only inhales as he moves into her space, jaw clenches and her tongue pushed hard to the back of her teeth as he looms over her in a way that can't help but feel comfortable in spite of the circumstances.

She'd never be afraid of him, not when she knew how all the cogs underneath his skin interlocked and made him tick. The second his grip lands on her jaw, her own lands around his wrist with the tips of her nails pressed to his skin.

Nostrils flaring as he dares her, she knows deep down that no one else deserves to suffer for their sins. So she then uses the strength of her grip on him and uses it to raise his hand just enough to land in her mouth -- sinking her canines sharply into the tender crux of skin where his thumb met his forefinger with her eyes still on his.

@ulyflynn

[ridiasfangirlings]

April Fools ask! In April Mop, Sakura and Liars story was happened, and it's awesome. So what if they made it as annual tradition? Everyone on Scepter4 are allowed to lie freely on April Mop except regarding job. As expected, Akiyama, Awashima, and Camo are hesitant to do it. Benzai unleashes his inner sadism. Domyouji doesn't do anything different than usual except adding "in a bad way" instead of "in a good way". Fuse uses that opportunity to "roast" Fushimi, with the said recipient doesn't care at all. Hidaka and Eno are a bit shy to lie, but Gotou is a goddamn scary liars. Like, even though he lies, but everyone kinda can't help but believe him.

Also, all Scepter 4 member gets announcement that 30 minutes before midnight and the start of 2nd April, all clocks in Scepter 4 will be broken or late for "mysterious reason". Hidaka makes it his life mission to find Fushimi on that time, hoping to hear another confession

So if Fuse is roasting Fushimi because he's allowed to lie all day though does that mean he actually likes Fushimi :3c (Fuse's secret crush strikes again!) The clan would probably enjoy having a day to just play around and have fun, like everyone enjoys being able to make up fun lies for the day. Akiyama is concerned about the idea because Lying Is Wrong but Benzai enjoys it perhaps a bit too much and he manages to convince Akiyama eventually to try a bit. This turns out to be bad idea because Akiyama decides that he'll just have to be impolite for one day and he ends up absolutely tearing apart a few people without actually meaning to. Doumyouji thinks adding 'in a bad way' to everything he says is pretty clever of him, though imagine he also uses this as a way to like subtly insult people too because he'll add 'in a good way' here and there and it sounds like he's being nice but really he just told someone off. Hidaka tries to lie but his problem is probably that he's just way too earnest, like he'll start out lying but then he gets too into what he's saying and begins to mix some truth in and then he has to apologize because he was accidentally rude and then he's like wait no the apology was truth and okay can we start over. Gotou is a terrifying liar because he's so believable, like no one's sure if Gotou's playing along with the spirit of April Fool's or if he's just saying something he always wanted to say.

If everyone knew the clocks were broken though would Hidaka be able to hear another confession? After all if Fushimi knows it's broken too he's not going to say anything that would incriminate him (...incriminate him for being honest about his feelings, horrors). Maybe the alphabet boys all decide to work together to mess with the clocks without telling anyone as like a super prank and Hidaka thinks maybe he can catch Fushimi in accidental honesty again. Unfortunately for him Fushimi's learned his lesson from last time and has decided no talking whatsoever in the last two hours of the day, he wouldn't want anyone to think he likes them all or anything.

[robyndehood]

My Son's Story (pt. 1)

DISCLAIMER: I Know it's a bit of a long read, but it's important. Please read. I promise it isn't boring. Thank you!

Hi Everyone,

Intro

This is my first real attempt at Tumblr. Please contact me if anything I post violates a rule or is not considered appropriate. Anything I post, I truly mean no harm nor offense to anyone. But I need to write daily again to regain my gift and share it with the world. I have been working on my version of the "great American novel" for years. As a child, I was well on my way to becoming a successful author, but people had other ideas for my career path - and to put it bluntly - my contribution to society. Writer's block set in and then what was second nature to me - creative writing, became a lost skill. Or maybe a distant memory. Writers know that half the struggle as an artist is the dilemma of our own aspiration towards perfection. But nothing is perfect. It is a social construct and the antithesis of true beauty.

The Ultimate Birthday Gift

So, that said, let's talk about my son. He's three - he's actually turning four in December. He was born on my birthday and has been the greatest gift that I have ever received. I won't pretend that he is perfect or even generally compliant with my directions. But he's loving. He's empathetic. He's brilliant. He's beautiful. And most of all, he is the sweetest person I have ever met.

I am going to go slightly off-topic for a bit; just to paint the full picture. I don't want to ramble and I am definitely a believer that a short and to the point message is almost always far superior to a long and complicated message. But bear with me because this snippet of the backstory is essential. And my son's story is important.

Appalachia

We live in Pittsburgh, part of the Appalachian Mountain Range. There is no other way to say it than the unadulterated, ugly truth of it - Pittsburgh is racist. Very racist. Beyond that, there is a general lack of common courtesy to outsiders, customers of businesses, other patrons in stores, etc. And the rudeness, is actually pretty much unrelated to the racism. It sounds strange and surely, minorities who are on the receiving end of it would certainly assume that racism was the reason why they said "excuse me," "thank you," etc. and about half the time are ignored like they're a ghost. But don't get it twisted - there are many times the aforementioned behaviors by many Pittsburghers IS induced by racism AND a lack of common courtesy and manners. You see, their deep-seated tribalism is indoctrinated into many Pittsburghers so completely from a young age that they know no different. It would be difficult for them to understand this article and I'd bet anyone ten bucks that if enough PIttsburghers read this post - they will attack my analysis of Pittsburghese culture as though the post itself is a blitz on the entire city.

Brown or White?

I am latin and there aren't many latins in Pittsburgh. But when we moved to Pittsburgh when I was in seventh grade, people knew my last name. Summer had just passed and I do get brown. I can get brown very quickly in the right type of sun and I get brown eventually in the sun that exists in cloudy and northern Pittsburgh. In seventh grade, some boys decided it would be funny to call me "estupido," and up until two years ago, I avoided sun exposure that would reveal my "brownness" like the plague.

Subversive, Subconscious, and Secret Racism

So, not long after I started that strategy, I was treated as white. (Side note: latins can be any race; but it seems that societal constructs are seeking to change this long accepted designation and categorize latins as some in between, brown race and not an ethnicity. To be honest, I am ok with that and now proud to be latin.)

The reality of being treated white in Pittsburgh for many years was that I learned what white people actually said when they were only with other whites. The most common thing that was said was one white person mumbling to other white people that someone was a "dumb n******" or a "dumb monkey." I've heard white adults refer to children who were black as "n***lets." But it was always this crocodile smiling through their teeth behavior. They'd never dare say it to a black person. Instead, they'd just indirectly discriminate against them.

I do have to mention that by no means do all Pittsburghers behave this way. It's just too many of them. I don't know the percentage, but if I had to guess I'd say - 50% plus.

Yes, Racism Happens All The Time Even if You Don't See it Happen

Many white people will tell you that racism is gone because they don't ever observe it and Obama was president - a black president. Therefore, everything is now over. I can admit that I have experienced my share of discrimination when my skin darkens. But I had no clue how bad it was for black people out here until my son became the recipient of the ugliness of it all. To me, racists are by definition ignorant cowards; so it makes sense they'd pick on a small boy whose only family is his mother.

Evil Always Starts Slowly

If one reviews history, every evil dictator or regime began slowly chipping away human rights. By the time the citizens realized the dire state of their country, it was too late. Their freedoms were already taken away and mechanisms to fight back had also been methodically erased.

When my son was born - a boy who is half African (his father (if you want to call him that since he is basically not involved) is from Ghana); no issues arose for the first two and a half years. But then the indirect discrimination started. The same rules that applied for white children didn't apply to him. I could give so many examples. But let's just say, as a rambunctious boy, if my son mimicked a white boy's same rambunctious behavior, we were confronted and the white family was not confronted.

One day I made an appointment for my son's hair to get cut at Philip Pelusi. They made the appointment knowing that he was only two and a half. The receptionist let me know that the stylist was a "Grade A Stylist," so I would have to pay more. I was fine with paying more; cool. After the appointment was made, I mentioned to the receptionist that my son was mixed race. We ended the call and I began to get my son ready to leave. Within ten minutes, the salon called back and informed me that they didn't/wouldn't cut my son's "type of hair." I promptly returned the call and explained his hair was curly, that's all. They blatantly lied and told me that the stylist doesn't cut ANY curly hair. Right. So, if a white lady came in with curly hair she would be turned away? I doubt it. Either way, the stylist is "Grade A." She is also licensed to cut hair by the state. Shouldn't a requirement for state licensing require one to know how to cut all "types of hair"?; I saved the recording, by the way, and still have it.

As months progressed, little by little wherever my son and I went in "white areas," we felt hostile vibes. Other incidents occurred that couldn't be proven as racial discrimination, but I knew. Whites behaved as though my son didn't deserve to be around them.

Southern Hospitality

We traveled down south a few times in the past year. Yes, some of the south is very racist still to this day. But not where we drove. Suddenly people responded when we said "excuse me," "thank you," etc. No white families prevented my son from playing with their children. No one told me my son was a nuisance or put out that vibe.

The Lesser of Two Evils?

But we had to come back each time because we live here and I've been working my way out of the projects that I have lived in for four years. Shootings. Open drug use and sales. The smell of crack in the hallways. Infestations in other apartments that come our way no matter what we try. People peeing on the hallway floors. Yes, seriously. Young children being encouraged to bully and beat up other kids. Children stealing or attempting to steal my son's toys because their mothers buy them none. Gamgmembers as young as twelve.

So, I concluded: "yes, we will move, but until then, we only sleep in our apartment and we do not play at the projects' playground." I figured IF I saved a certain number of money since I have a car that I saved for and bought last year, we would make it in our new, chosen city (Tampa or Jacksonville).

But then the racism against my son in the "white playgrounds" became worse. One day he was playing with a five year old boy at an indoor playground. The mother had no issue with it. The father of the boy arrived half an hour in, promptly scooped the boy away from my son, and told his son that he had told him he was not to "play with n*****s." My son couldn't understand why he could no longer play with his new friend and kept calling to him, "friends again!" while sobbing because he thought he had upset the boy. I had to leave with my son because of it.

Another time, a ten-year-old boy taunted my son on an outdoor playground and called him a "dumb monkey." My son first attempted to yell, "I NOT DUMB MONKEY," a few times; but the boy persisted and even smirked in my direction. My son ran to me and asked me to make the boy stop. No parent in sight and again, I just had to leave with my son.

Enough is Enough

Finally, last month or so, my son and I were at our usual laundromat doing laundry. We had finished. My son skipped a few steps in front of me and tried to open the glass door but couldn't push the bar to open it because of his height. He placed (yes, placed..lightly) his foot on the door to try to give it a bit more of a nudge. I was a few seconds behind him so just pushed the door open and we went to our car to load our clean laundry into it. In retrospect, I saw an older white male go next door to the beer store right after we walked out of the laundromar. The beer store employee approached us as I loaded my laundry into my car and then intended to leave.

The beer store employee told me he was getting "reports that kids were kicking glass." He said kids. Plural. And what he said made me envision a bunch of grade school kids kicking around broken glass on the sidewalk or parking lot. I responded calmly that "I have one kid and he's been with me the whole time. He wasn't involved." The beer store employee wanted drama to transpire. It was obvious. He said in a threatening manner: "Just so you know, I have cameras." My son and I exchanged glances because we were confused. What kids? Kids were kicking glass. Where? What glass?

Again though, I calmly responded that my son wasn't involved and he should check his cameras. He told me he was calling the cops. So I got my three-year-old son in his car seat and set a time limit of ten minutes to wait. We weren't running when he didn't do anything. The cops of course showed up about a minute later. It's ridiculous because in our projects (different police department than the laundromat police department), there have been shootings where children were outside playing when several clips were emptied into crowds and the police station is a block away. I know people called and it took an hour for them to arrive on scene.

Long story short, the laundromat cops knew it was a bullshit call. The supposed "kicking glass" was because my son placed his foot on the door to try to open it when we were LEAVING. The police eventually informed us that was the alleged "kicking of glass." There was no kicking that happened. The door wasn't even dirtier, let alone damaged because my son tried to use his foot to open the door. Lightly, by the way.

Even though the police were kind to my son, for the next week, my usual gregarious child was terrified to go anywhere. He eventually told me it was because "the cops will chase me and take me to jail because I bad guy now."

He's over it now. Mostly.

But we still have to pick between the craziness of playing at our aforementioned projects or going to a "white playground" and risking my son being rejected. It's usually a 50/50 shot that he will be rejected. If he gets rejected, he gets very upset.

Again, these are problems we never faced on our travels down the southern eastern seaboard. We didn't get treated like this at the destinations or on the journey by car to and from the destinations.

I knew we were living in an extremely racist and rude area, but one day I found this. It's a map delineating the results of a study conducted by Google and others regarding the level of racism in different parts of the country.

I already knew this much. But it's good to know I'm right that we are in the worst part of the U.S. for racism and the kindness we received traveling to those certain southern states was no illusion. And I did ask locals before I found this map if I was right that people are kinder to all colors in whichever given area.

Not the Worst Thing That Happened But the Last Straw

People talk a lot about Karens these days. This lady looked like she jumped right out of a Karen meme. My son was two feet away from her while we waited in line and she said as obnoxiously as possible: "Can you handle this? Please get him out of MY space." Yeah, I didn't let it go. At all. Her argument was that she said "please" so it's OK to make my son feel like a "this" and not a little boy. I held him while he sobbed. Long story short, I decided right then anywhere has to be better than this.

It isn't me just knowing people are being nasty to my son and I'm upset. He understands. He had an evaluation for something and he tested very well. He cried about each of these incidents. He just wants to make people smile and make friends.

So, next month we are going for it. I'm no where close to the aforementioned goal. I have some savings. We may end up in shelters at first after savings dry up in a few weeks. But we cannot survive up here. Nor can we advance here.

Side Note

I wrote this mostly to inform others of the status quo and reality of racism and the real effects it has on one tiny boy. And I know it will just get worse if we stay since it's this bad already.

But if you anyone knows of any resources to help us get on our feet in a month in Tampa or Jacksonville (Tampa is my first choice, but either one.) I have applied for housing, even though I didn't and don't want to go back to projects; but I'd take one down there over watching my son endure so much pain any day of the week.

Ok, so final part: I'm going to say upfront I feel extremely awkward with this paragraph because this isn't my way (years before my son was born I was homeless for a stint and never sat with a sign or a cup. Just couldn't do it), but for my son, I'm going to drop my cashtag here. Everyone is struggling and I know there are people with much worse problems. I appreciate anyone who has read this far and can help spread the reality of what I wrote about. That's the reason for the article; but if help is received at all because of it, we would be grateful but it's definitely a far second most important reason for the post. Here it goes, for my baby, in case it'll change his life and give us that better foot up, here it is: $RobyndeHood

[princebugs]

A meeting with Niles.

Quivering digits rub and scratch at the back of his own neck, goosebumps rising as his eyes shift from corner to corner. He swallows, the nervous lump in his throat dissipating for only mere moments before quickly arising once more. His movements remain shaky, and shifty. He feels nervosa creeping up his spine leisurely, causing his hyperactivity to skyrocket. Remaining still is no easy task.

The male can almost discern a feeling of eyes on the back of his brunette tresses, watching him from the shadowed corner of the room. Perhaps a figure is awaiting the perfect time to pounce on the human and rip his throat out, at a pace fast enough that he wouldn't scream--- no one would hear his death. He whips his head in that direction, his heart pounding against his chest.

Cue a sigh of relief.

It's just dust. It's just dust, Gavin. Can't hurt you. Maybe fuck with your allergies a bit, but it won't hurt you. You're probably just crazy, like your uncle Kevin--- he still lives in that shed, right? Still talking about those damned 'creatures of the night', hiding in there with a shotgun with hopes that he'll be the one to kill 'em.

Maybe you'll be like that soon, if these delusions go any farther.

A sound of a doorknob clicking interrupts his thoughts and causes the male to jump in his seat, right forearm raising in a defensive manner before realizing that it was only his new therapist, clad in a black turtleneck and black pants.

When did he get here?

Gavin briefly takes a glance down at himself, and is just a slight bit pissed at himself for not dressing nicer.

If this was anything but a therapy session where Gavin would have to speak openly about his mental problems, he would have dressed better. He didn't see the point of wearing something appealing when it was just therapy, and his therapist was most likely going to be some old man or young female that he didn't need to impress.

Sadly for him, the male was definitely not an old man. He looked, roughly, around Gavin's age--- yet he had the sort of timeless face that could pass for a nineteen-year-old. The turtleneck's sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. Gavin usually considers turtlenecks "phckin' ugly" but this guy has changed the definition for him.

And he was overwhelmingly pale. Did he never go outside?

Lesson learned. Wear cute clothes EVERYWHERE.

“Mr. Reed?“ A voice brings Gavin out of his train of thought, and he notices that the male is no longer standing, and is, in fact, sitting right in the position ahead of him, with his head tilted in slight concern as well as confusion.

Dammit.

“Shit, ah,“ Gavin struggles to push away his thoughts for the time being, his nails scratching at the back of his neck as he awkwardly laughs half-heartedly. “Yeah, yeah. That's me, alright.“

The therapist merely emits a soft chuckle, though his mind seems to be elsewhere. He doesn't know for sure, but he thinks that he's making a mental note of some sort--- probably from his behavior. This feels almost like a job interview, and that makes Gavin straighten out his back and lock eye-contact with the male across from him, his cerulean optics now gazing into steel hues. This, however, prompts another brief snicker from him.

“This isn't a professional setting, Mr. Reed. You can sit however you see fit; it is better that you feel comfortable while we converse with one another.“

Gavin's brows furrow together in exiguous uncertainty--- this man spoke like he was reading from a college art essay. Though he said it wasn't professional, it almost felt like it was; like Gavin was being judged for every single movement he followed through with.

It was almost as if he was being ordered to feel more comfortable, which is the most awkward thing ever. It puts on pressure, and makes the situation even more uncomfortable. Nonetheless, Gavin leans back, slouching a modest amount whilst placing his elbows on the back of the couch he sat upon. He stared ahead with half-lidded eyes, and his therapist was studying his body language the entire time.

Gavin would consider this creepy, but it's alright because it's his therapist.

“I'm Dr. Anderson, but you can just refer to me as Niles,“ His therapist--Niles-- begins, his nimble fingers picking up a set of reading glasses and placing them on his visage for a few moments to seemingly read Gavin's file, then setting both the glasses and the file down on the table in front of him. “How about you tell me why you set this urgent appointment with me, hm?“

His voice was smooth, like velvet draped across pale skin. It brought chills down Gavin's back. Compared to how coarse and rough Gavin's voice was, Niles' voice was soothing.

Calm down, dude. This isn't a therapy session for questioning your sexuality. Reply to his question, fucknut!

“Yeah, sure, sure. Uh, where do I fuckin' start?“ Again, Gavin laughs to release some tension, and when the room is silent, he coughs. And continues. “Hah, erm... well, I've been having these weird delusions and feelings of someone watching me. Paranoia, or whatever. I can't sleep, either.“

The concept of therapy wasn't really Gavin's thing; the idea of sharing all of his thoughts with another person was just plain idiotic, in his opinion. He'd much rather keep his feelings to himself, but since his mother called him out of the blue and informed him that she had scheduled an appointment with an "experienced therapist with good reviews" (which sounded shady as hell) because she was worried.

Truth is, he couldn't blame her for being worried. He had shut himself in his apartment, and wasn't even going to work the majority of the time. And when he did go to work, he only got sent home because he continuously kept falling asleep at his desk. Probably because he doesn't feel the eyes on him as he sleeps at work.

“Interesting,“ Niles bobbed his cranium in confirmation, his weight now leaning back as he crosses his arms over one another. He always seems like he is analyzing Gavin in some way.

Weird as fuck.

“So, perhaps you could be having some sort of stalker, or PTSD from something happening to you in the pa--“

“No, no. It's not like that.“

Niles seems suddenly interested and more inclined to listen, his head once again now tilted to the side in curiosity as his brows raise upwards. “Oh?“

Gavin gulped--- the aura that this guy gave off was intimidating as hell, and it was difficult to trust him. “Yeah, like... if it was something like that, then wouldn't I feel some sort of recognition kind of thing? Stalkers are usually people that the person knows personally or knew personally, and PTSD... don't think that's applicable to this situation. I don't think it's that.“

“Elaborate.“

“If it was PTSD, then it wouldn't feel so... so...“ He struggled to search and find the correct vocabulary, the right words-- it was on the tip of his tongue. His eyebrows knit together in comprehension, irises looking down at the couch as he--

“Real?“

Niles' tone is almost demanding in generality; it causes Gavin to shudder and almost cower in fear. Momentarily, he remembers how stern his father's voice was, how it terrified him to his core. Fear can make anyone curl in on themselves.

Gavin nods his head, his grey-blue hues now gazing out the large-sized window located directly to his left, watching as doves fly away. “Y-- yeah. Real. I've experienced PTSD before, and it's nothing like that, at least not this time. It's inhuman, almost. Like... like someone, some thing is going to pounce on me at any second. I don't feel safe in my apartment by myself. Hah, I even had a little moment in here before you got here--- thought something was in the corner.“

His therapist only stares, bobbing his head every now and then as a way to show that he was listening. Though, it didn't seem like it. It was as if he already knew everything that Gavin was saying. He identifies a sudden feeling of recognition--- one that chills Gavin to his very core.

“I, uh--- have I met you before?“ The detective leans forward now, setting his elbows on his knees. He can feel the shadows under his eyes growing deeper-- is that normal? How long had it been since he had slept? Gavin's calloused phalanges weave through his brunette locks, then gripping them tightly. “God, I must be going crazy. Of course, I haven't seen you anywhere--- what am I thinking? Turnin' into Uncle Kev-- I've been seein' shit that just isn't there. It's probably just sleep deprivation, and this therapy session won't do anything, I'm just wastin' my ti--“

“Here, walk with me outside,“ His incoherent rambling is cut short by Niles' request.

Gavin's pate raises upwards, catching sight of the therapist's outstretched palm, reaching for him. Motioning for Gavin to take his hand. His eyes lock with Niles.

“Wowza! Hand-holding? At least take me out to dinner first, eh?“ Gavin internally slaps himself. Meanwhile, Niles just rolls his eyes. Not in an annoyed way--- in an amused manner. Phew, Gavin didn't scare away his therapist.

“Come on, you said that being in here made you have a little 'fit' as well, right? Perhaps being out instead of holed inside your apartment will make you feel better, in some fashion?“

Gavin ponders about his next move, though it didn't seem much like a request at this point. Niles just seemed like he was politely ordering him to go outside. Reluctantly, he places his tan-colored hand in Niles' pale palm, letting his hand envelop over Gavin's and pull him up to his feet abruptly.

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

They meandered around the perimeter of the building for several moments, neither of them uttering a single word the duration of their walk. Gavin wasn't particularly skilled at breaking the ice when it came to long periods of silence similar to this; he would usually make it worse, actually. Saying something that would be so unexpected that it catches the recipient off-guard, or something that just makes the air between them extremely awkward all of the sudden.

Eventually, Gavin can't stand it anymore. He coughs to clear his throat up, his hand clenching into a fist for him to cough into for a few moments before scratching at the back of his neck again, and again.

“So, like, you have any family around this area, or are you new to Detroit?“

Greaaat question, Gavin. What if he has no family, and you just brought up shitty memories? GOOD GOIN', PRICK.

Niles hums. “I am relatively new here, but my brother lives here with me. You probably saw him whilst walking around the building, yes? Shorter than me, brown eyes?“

Gavin recalls seeing someone who fit that description. “Yeah, that's your brother?“

“Indeed, he is. He's... a little brat sometimes, prefers to do his own thing, but he's still family. We had to move rather abruptly due to some... sudden consequences of our actions, I suppose. Nothing for you to worry about.“

That bewildered Gavin, but he decided not to press further.

Luckily, Niles kept the conversation going. If the silence began once more, Gavin thought he could die.

“You mentioned an uncle earlier?“

Right, during his ramble.

“Yeah, hahah--- Uncle Kevin. He's like, the weird family member, y'know? The one who lives in a shed with a shotgun--- claiming that he'll prevent the apocalypse by killing the bloodsuckers, or something like that,“ Gavin laughs at this, yet Niles is silent.

“How peculiar. Bloodsuckers, you say?“ Niles inclines his head towards Gavin, his arms remaining behind his back as he walked. “What do you think of that?“

Gavin's face scrunches up, emitting a confused noise before sighing softly, remembering that this was a therapy session after all. “I dunno, man. Frankly, I think the idea of vampires existing is stupid as fuck, actually. Like, wasn't it just a myth, or fairytale? Or something like that. Nonetheless, it's hella dumb, and I don't believe in it one bit. If I ever saw a vampire in front of my face, I'd probably call it ugly and scream.“

Niles does laugh at this. “Be careful about what you say, Mr. Reed, you never know who, or what, might be listening.“

The way he said this caused shivers to go down Gavin's back. He sneered at Niles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and emitting a disgruntled huff. “Don't even joke about that shit, man. I mean, I may find it funny, but the way you say that shit just makes me feel hella uneasy.“

“What if I told you that you should be feeling uneasy right now, Gavin?“ Niles' tone is almost playful, like a cat playing with its prey before chomping down on it.

Gavin just emits a confused noise in return. “Huh?“ He should be feeling uneasy? Why is that such a... weird statement to make?

“I'm just messing with you-- a mere jest. Everyone feels uneasy with their new therapist; that's a sign that you're normal, Gavin.“

Exhaling a soft suspire of relief. “See, when you're all serious like that all the time, I can't even tell the difference between the real seriousness and the fake. That's what makes me feel uneasy.“

“That's how life really is, though. No one can distinguish reality from dream, but we believe that we can. How sure are you right now that you are in reality? At this exact moment, do you know if I am real, or a figment of your imagination?“ The taller male stops in his tracks, and Gavin struggles to stammer out his reply.

Gavin turns his head to Niles.

“I-- I'm totally freaked right now, dude. You're gettin' all... weird. How the fuck did we go from talkin' about vampires to--- this??“

“Gavin. Keep your windows unlocked at night, okay? It's extremely difficult for someone to break a window in a quiet manner. And it just becomes a hassle to clean up later on...“

What the fuck?

Gavin has no time to respond, Niles speeds up and just walks away with a mere wink and a smirk with relatively sharp canine teeth for a human. Remarkably, Niles had no shadow. Weird, weird, weird. Everything about Niles was weird and unexplainable.

Gavin is left on the pavement outside the building with no one around him, awkwardly standing there. He didn't know where to go. Should he follow Niles? No, no--- Gavin didn't want to be around him anymore.

He must look pathetic, wanting to run away and cry to his mother about what had just occurred--- but he'll do it nonetheless.

There was only one thing that Gavin knew from his first and last encounter with his therapist.

He's locking the windows.

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ALSO POSTED ON AO3:

[bittersweetblasphemy]

2, 10, 17 for the monsterfucking priest, 13, 19, 24 for the monster theyre fucking (unrelated but Yaerrah sounds like a fucking delight) -wires

Lol so this goes for two separate couples: Shabti/Yaerrah and Anba/Mahk. By the end it's three, but I'll keep it just to these two for now.

I think you would really vibe with Yaerrah if only because the scenario you described in this post is his reality with Shabti currently in the role of "treasured pet".

2. What were they like as a child? Were they quiet and reserved, outgoing, or a bit of both?

Both Shabti and Anba were outgoing and boisterous little shits, but with Anba it was more for his limitless curiosity and general absence of fear. Shabti was a spoiled brat from a well to do family and always knew he's be joining Yaerrah's priesthood where being an entitled bastard is basically a requirement.

10. Favorite place? Do they go there often?

For Anba it's a tie between the temple library and Death's garden. He's in one or both almost every day. For Shabti it's Yaerrah's personal rooms. He doesn't mind getting dicked down in public, but Yaerrah lets him top more in private.

17. Do they consider themselves to be romantic? Why or why not?

Anba, yes. He's the classic romantic who likes to watch the sunset and take long walks on the beach. Shabti, thinks he is. His whole life is dedicated to the one person in life he's meant to be dedicated to, and who he adores with all his heart and soul. Whether it's actually romantic or toxic is up to outside opinion.

Now for the big boys

13. What special abilities or talents do they possess? Did they develop through training or were they born with them?

Okay, so when I call them Gods, I mean that as in they're incomprehensibly powerful beings with direct control over the world. The best comparison would be like Ego from Guardians of the Galaxy if he had a bunch of siblings that he had to share control of his planet with. They each have a preference for certain things, but with a little effort and will, any one of them can do pretty much anything.

Some of the things I outright show are things like shapeshifting, flight, enchanting objects (an amulet that keeps predatory animals from attacking, candles that never fully melt away that can be lit en masse by blowing on one like you're blowing it out, turning a message into a temporarily animate creature that will carry itself to its intended recipient). Mahk, after a few human lifetimes, can create a small pool of fresh water from his palms or cause a small stream to pour from solid rock by writing the word upon it, and Yaerrah has a limited ability to warp time around himself and those in his immediate presence.

Honestly the only thing that keeps them in check is each other. The free will of a sentient creature is the one thing none of them can really control.

19. What do they wish they knew more about?

Rough question. Yaerrah is a total bimbo who just kinda understands what he understands, yells at his underlings to make shit happen and just expects it to be done. So he doesn't really want to know anything more about anything. Maybe where he should have Shabti send raiders next for some new pretty things to look at.

Mahk would like to know more on how to sustain his people himself through a personal mastery of water, plants, and disease, rather than relying on the fickle natures of the other gods who can and have turned on him and the people he cares about.

24. Where did their name come from? Does it have meaning?

In story cannon? From the first people who started worshipping them. They've been around since the beginning of the planet, so when humans popped up they were all kinda like "oh wtf, these things are kinda cool, let's make physical forms so we can say hi" so the humans just went "bet. what do we call you?" and these beings that never really had the need for names before got real confused. So the humans gave them names and the gods were just so thrilled.

Irl? So there's this movie called Rock and Rule. I've never watched it, but Saberspark over on YT reviewed it and the way the bad guy says his own name sounded really cool and I just rolled with it. And because the way I spelled it ended up not actually being the way it's really spelled (Mok) I ended up keeping it. For Yaerrah, tbh I originally had a different name that started with a Y, but it sounded way too similar to Yahweh and considering he (minor spoilers) is a pretty unpleasant antagonist, it felt like I was crossing a line. My husband suggested the "rah" at the end because it sounded like a war cry and I thought it fit well while keeping the pretty Y sound at the beginning.

Thanks for indulging my nonsense @wired-for-weird ❤️

[thesilentinquisitor]

[Continued from here]

The dwindling nature of their party made Evren's earlier concern rear its metaphorical head, but she shoved it down and listened to the nervous young woman speak. Though they'd not yet been formally introduced yet - a fact she found mildly puzzling - the resemblance to her niece indicated that the speaker was either a recipient of the same gene-seed or one of Akhenaten's many, many offspring. Or offspring of her litter. Throne, she was losing track of them all.

Well, maybe five wasn't so many, but it was five more than Evren had - or wanted to have, for that matter. And the Jackal Mother had a few thousand pups to keep track of already, so she couldn't be blamed if a few of her grand-nieces and -nephews slipped her mind.

"Hmm." she hummed. "Sounds like the kind of thing that'd turn up in your, ah, pre-planning stages. The part where they check if the ground is safe to build on and doesn't contain a cave system, a mass grave, or an Heresy-era weapons cache, or what-have-you." Evren waved a hand vaguely; her knowledge of proper architectural terminology was limited. She had people to remember that for her.

Humming again, she scratched her cheek, leaving red, raw marks on her dry skin. "Having said that, the ruins mightn't've been congruent with this plane of reality at the time - possibly in some kind of an extra-temporal, extra-spatial, non-Euclidean space - and were therefore missed. As did the anomalous ruins that appeared below Salvation High School during the week of June 18th, 1976."

Evren continued to ponder on the events of that strange week, possibly the strangest in Indiana's history, as the young woman took care of her sudden phone call. She made a sympathetic noise when she heard Akhenaten was leaving, though inside Evren wasn't sure what her niece had expected to happen. Which was rich coming from someone who literally relied on Warp-energy to live, and currently made Gunner First Class Ferik Jurgen look like a well-moisturised newborn.

The nervous woman's introduction was greeted with a smile as the Grand Inquisitor did her best to memorise this new information. "Pollux's daughter, huh? Throne, and it seems like only yesterday that I met your father as a young man..." The Perpetual shook her head. Before she knew it, this one would be old with grandchildren of her own. "And you're not alone in that. Most of my half-siblings - the Emperor's own blood - didn't inherit a single drop of his magic."

She reached out and patted Hetepheres comfortingly on the shoulder. "Akhenaten might've left, but there's no reason to be afraid. Why?" Evren continued, channeling the spirit of a certain fictional hero. "Because I am here! And whatever's causing this, I've fought bigger and uglier with far less guns on me than I have now."

"So this is the no magic zone. Fucking place gives me the crawls "Auntie. I cannot feel the Great Ocean; and neither can Achilles. Oh fuck me. Good thing we brought the Crushers right deartheart?" The forgemaster stood right in the middle of a pack of Barghests who were big, mean, and appereance-wise had more in common with monsters than dogs. He merely scratched the head of the nearest hound and smiled.

There wasn't much in this world or any other that could send a chill down Evren Anubis' spine, but the words 'no magic zone' turned her blood icy cold the moment they left Akhenaten' lips. She barely suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down her body. Though she wasn't the most dignified or in control, Evren knew her men were looking to her as Legion Commander and gene-mother. Seeing her so openly afraid would be terrible for group morale.

The presence of the Barghests was a comfort, not despite but because of their monstrous appearance. They reminded her of the Hounds of Tindalos and their vatborn cousins. Hundreds of generations created and reared by hand from birth to death.

But her mind was starting to wander. Concentrate.

"Hmm." Evren put on her 'serious anomaly investigator' face and faced the indicated zone with an expression that made her look as if she were struggling through a gale. She put a finger on her lower lip, thought better of it, then planted her hands on her hips. "So. This zone... How much do you know about it? Was it here before you arrived or is it a recent thing? What's the size of it, roughly?"

Behind her, a gaggle of mixed Astartes - those of the Judged and the Jackals who weren't gifted with psyker abilities - either inspected the Barghests from a distance or quietly discussed the wisdom of getting closer to the anti-magic zone. One wondered out loud how long it would be before the Grand Inquisitor smelt Necrons and fled. The slightest hint of necrodermis, they said, and she'd be gone. Evren glared in their direction but had no retort to their pointed truths.

"...and, more importantly, is it gonna make my skin fall off?"

[mysnarkyslytherinsecret]

Okay so I just got this imagine idea. Basically it would take place during a ball and it features Severus and the person who he has feelings for(she likes him back,neither have had the courage to speak up yet)somehow they end up dancing toghether. While she is distracted Severus glances at her and whispers "Beautiful" at the sight of her, when she turns to ask what he said he covers it up by saying that he meant the music.I haven't thought of an ending but please write it!Doesn't have to be long

Severus Snape stood at the corner of the ballroom like a particularly ill-tempered shadow, practically itching to leave.

Truth be told, he hated Ministry functions- all these disgustingly smug Ministry bastards in their disgustingly expensive robes rubbing shoulders with others like themselves gave Severus the worst sort of indigestion.  Though he had no appetite, he was, in fact, holding an empty champagne flute that he’d unceremoniously emptied at least three times in a nearby bush simply to avoid having to be asked for the fifty-millionth time if he’d like some hors d’oeuvres by one of the over-eager Ministry house elves.

He sighed heavily when the champagne flute refilled itself as though by magic and glared at the nearby house elf, who’d frozen mid-snap.  With a slight wave of his hand, he dismissed the elf, who looked as though she was about to start boxing her own ears right then and there for displeasing him before disappearing with a sharp pop. Severus took a step to try and explain that this wasn’t necessary, but then he realized that since it hadn’t worked on all of the house elves he’d grumbled at over the years at Hogwarts for trying to be helpful and making things worse, it probably wouldn’t work on her either.

The only reason he was at the stupid event was because Minister Shacklebolt (damn him!) had told him that the galleons he’d be receiving along with whatever the bloody award of the week was this time were contingent on his attendance.  He looked up at the ornate clock near the far side of the ballroom and sighed.  There were still forty-five minutes until midnight, and Severus only had eyes for the Ministry’s clocktower. Once it chimed even a single time, he could finally disappear from this godforsaken place like a sour-faced Cinderella.

He snorted into the champagne flute at the thought, pretending to be in the middle of drinking it to avoid yet another overstuffed Ministry official who looked like he was about to come over and talk to him.  He’d worn his blackest, least-ornate robes, the buttons fastened all the way up to his chin like armor against being considered sociable or in any way conspicuous. He looked over at the other recipients, which were basically a bunch of the members of Dumbledore’s Army (the wankers, he thought, all dressed up like they’re playing at being like their elders), and some of the other professors from Hogwarts. Minerva had already saved him a couple of times from nosy gawkers, but she was in the middle of dancing with Phineas Fickleboro, the esteemed Transfiguration researcher from Istanbul, and Severus knew that she wouldn’t be able to save him if someone happened to find him in his concealed space behind the fat marble pillar in the shadows of the ballroom.

A buzzing near his ear made him flinch and he swatted at it instinctively. Unfortunately, he forgot that he was holding the champagne flute with champagne still in it, and ended up pouring it all over the place.

There was a loud thump as something heavy hit the ground and a shrill squeal assaulted his ears, making him wince.

“HEY! What the feck do you think yer doin’?!”

Severus knew that voice. He turned his head slowly, as if this would change the truth of the person who lay sprawled out on her back, her robes drenched in champagne.

“Miz Skeeter. Apparently, you have taken my previous instructions to buzz off rather literally,” Severus said, stepping back and glowering at her. “Good evening.”

He swept off, hoping that he looked like he was stomping away in fury instead of fleeing.  Skeeter had been merciless since his survival had come to light- following him everywhere during the day and having Prophet interns tail him at night. The damn woman was a pest who was obsessed with writing unflattering articles about him. Normally, Severus wouldn’t care.

He’d been called worse by friends, after all, and Skeeter was no friend.

However, he was also in the process of having several new potions patented, and plans to open his own owl-post apothecary, so he was doing his best to avoid as much negative press as was possible.

“Mr. Snape! A word, please!”

Skeeter had apparently found her wand and cleaned herself off, for she was following after him at a frightening speed. Severus turned away from her to find that he was mere inches from the dance floor.  A murmur of interest filled the room and Severus felt his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment, but at the next bellow from the harridan behind him, he forced himself into the crowd of dancers.

Suddenly, someone had taken his hand and he felt himself spun around to find Minerva’s laughing eyes and cat-ate-the-canary smile as she led him away from the livid journalist.

“Thank Merlin,” he said, before he could compose himself, “I was beginning to think that bitch was going to cast a Permanent Sticking Charm.”

Minerva chuckled. “Well I knew that it would take a fairly extreme situation to get you out into the light of day-”

“It’s half an hour to midnight, Minerva,” Severus replied, unimpressed.

“Be that as it may, it’s good to see that you’re finally putting all those years of teaching Slytherin House to dance to practice, even if it’s little old me,” Minerva continued, twirling him out and then bending him backwards in her arms.

“You do know that I’m supposed to be the lead,” Severus said, once she pulled him up out of the dip, his cheeks going slightly pink.

“You’re three decades too young to lead me anywhere, and you know it,” Minerva chuckled as they two-stepped towards the other side of the dance floor.  They stopped and clapped politely with the rest of the crowd as the music ended. “Now, then, what are your plans for the rest of the evening?”

Severus was about to reply when he felt a finger tap gently on his shoulder and he spun abruptly, his eyes widening with surprise.  There, before him, stood a young woman who looked rather familiar, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Her hair was short, though ringlets of chestnut brown hair curled around her face in a wild sort of way that filled Severus with a strange heady sensation in his belly. She wasn’t heavily powdered or garishly dressed. There was a simplistic, natural air to her that he instantly envied, but she carried herself with a power and confidence that made her look older than her years. Her eyes were golden and seemed to shimmer in the light of the many candles floating above them.

Instantly, Severus found himself transported back to his stammering, awkward, teenaged self.

“Severus, you’re gawking,” Minerva politely whispered to him, and he shut his mouth, which had been hanging open and making him look (he was certain) like a total moron.

“Good evening, Minerva, Mr. Snape,” the woman said, curtseying slightly

“Good evening, Miss Granger,” Minerva said kindly.

“Please, I’ve told you a hundred times that it’s fine to call me Hermione. I feel like a first year when you call me that!” Hermione laughed, and Severus noticed that her teeth were even and white.

His mind flashed back to his cruel words about her teeth, before, and he hated himself just a bit more than he usually did.

“Old habits die hard, Miss Granger, but I’m sure that there are others who can be more easily persuaded to change their ways,” Minerva replied, a very peculiar smile playing across her lips as she looked at Severus and then looked at Hermione and back to Severus again.

“What?” Severus asked pointedly, glaring at Minerva, who waved mildly and melted away into the crowd, leaving him behind before he could stop her.

“I’m didn’t wish to bother you, Mr. Snape,” Hermione said, turning her bright eyes on him and completely stopping his scowl in its tracks, “but I saw you and I just needed to thank you to your face. You saved my life, you see…and-”

They both abruptly turned towards a horrible screeching sound.

“THERE YOU ARE, SNAPE! THOUGHT YOU COULD ESCAPE, DID YOU!?” screamed Rita Skeeter.

Hermione turned away from him for a moment, placing her body squarely between him and the practically rabid journalist, her hands moving up to rest on her hips.  

And then, an odd thing happened.  

Though Hermione hadn’t made a sound, Rita’s expression went from full of fury to bug-eyed with fear.  Slowly, she backed away and then, when she’d reached the nearest doorway, she turned and practically ran out of the building as fast as her legs could carry her.

Hermione turned back, her face still midway between the intimidating murder-scowl she’d obviously been aiming at Skeeter, but when she finally looked up at him, her face had returned to the almost radiant picture of joy. She had protected him, but not in a way that he’d needed to ask for like some groveling, simpering fool. It filled him with a dangerous, pleasurable warmth and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from her.

“Beautiful,” he breathed out, before he could keep the thought from escaping his lips, and then, “Shite! I mean…the music is…er…beautiful…and…er…I was just going-”

His cheeks burned with embarrassment and he stared up at the cursed clock, which seemed to have only moved a minute or two past the half-hour mark.  Damned thing. Hermione laughed, but it wasn’t a derisive sound. On the contrary, she sounded so merry that he almost joined in.

This was it. He must be going mad.

She held out her hand. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to have this dance.  These Ministry functions are so boring, but it looks like you know what you’re doing, and besides, it will pass the time so that we can both get back to our research.”

This got Severus’ attention as he took her hand, leading her back onto the floor as the band began to play a downtempo waltz. “Research?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, mirroring his lead fairly well, though she was obviously about as rusty as he was. “I’m doing research on Ancient Runes and their usage in perpetually renewable charm energy. Unfortunately, there’s not a lot of money in the field even though it’ll be dead useful once I finally get it up and running. Hence my attendance at this pompous affair.”

Severus nearly fell over. It had not occurred to him that anyone other than himself (Minerva, perhaps, but she always enjoyed seeing everyone and was far more social than he would ever be) would feel similarly, much less need the money for ostensibly interesting (although complicated) research projects.  Thinking about his own research made him realize something important.

“So…er…,you mentioned that I…helped you,” Severus said awkwardly. “What, exactly might it have been?”

Hermione smiled mysteriously and Severus felt his heart skip a beat. “I’ll show you if you’d like…when we’re done with this dance.”

Severus swallowed a mysterious lump that seemed to have appeared in his throat, and he willed his palms not to sweat.  The way that she said those words was both seductive and innocuous. It was maddening not to know which it was.

And though he was trying very hard to tell himself otherwise, Severus really, really wanted to find out.

The song ended as soon as the clock struck midnight and Severus blinked rapidly, wondering where the time had gone.

“Thank you, Mr. Snape,” Hermione said, curtsying slightly.

“It’s Severus actually,” he heard himself say.

“Well, then,  Severus-”

“Oi! Mione!”  The slurred speech came from their left and they both turned to see a stumbling, drunken Ron Weasley being held barely upright by a sheepish looking Harry Potter. “G-weh from th’ git thar.”

Hermione let out a huff of exasperation and stomped over to Harry.

“He got into a drinking contest with a centaur,” Harry explained. “She won.”

“She godda mostest perdy trac’s o’ land,” Ron hiccuped. “I wanna ride ‘er like a pony. Coconuts ‘n everythin’…giddyap!”

“I shall forever regret taking him to see Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” Harry groaned. “Mind lending me a hand? I’m about ready to hex him.”

“C’mon, Ron, let’s get you home before you hurt yourself again,” Hermione sighed, her expression beyond exasperated.

It wasn’t until after she’d disappeared into one of the giant floo fireplaces with her two friends that Severus finally realized that he still did not know what she had meant to show him.

Or if he’d ever see her again.

“Come on, Severus,” Minerva said, clapping him heartily on the shoulder, “you’re free to leave now, or did you forget while you were mooning like a lovesick teenager over your dance partner?”

“I was not mooning!” Severus snapped, pulling away from her in a huff.

“Your lovesick expression says otherwise!” Minerva called out from behind him.

“She’s far too young!” Severus shot back. “It’d be disgusting.”

“You know what’s disgusting?” Minerva asked. “People who hide behind faulty logic to avoid their feelings.”

“HAH!” Snape practically yelled. “Perhaps I prefer logic! Logic is safe. Feelings are for dunderheads!”

He finally reached the border of the wards and Apparated away, his ears still burning with embarrassment as they picked up the sound of Minerva’s knowing laughter echoing through the cold night air after him.

“You didn’t have to stay for the after-party to get the monetary incentive for this award,” Minerva mused, handing him a glass of sparkling cider. “And yet here you are. And in some rather new-looking and well-tailored attire at that. Curiouser and curiouser.”

“You do know what they say about curiosity and cats, MInerva,” Severus replied with a sniff.

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Minerva replied. “You’re merely feeling a bit twitterpated, is all. It’s not the end of the world.”

“That still remains to be seen,” Severus quipped back dryly.

A rather handsome wizard appeared, bowed, and reached out his hand. “May I have this dance, Mademoiselle McGonagall?” he said, his voice thick with a prominent accent.

“Oh, it’s been years since I’ve been a Mademoiselle,” Minerva giggled. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for your Miss Granger on the dance floor, Severus.”

“She is not my Miss Granger,” Severus growled irritably.

“That remains to be seen,” Minerva replied with a wave as she was whisked off to the dance floor.

In the end, though he diligently searched for her, she found him again. He turned, trying to force himself not to grin like an idiot when he saw her standing there, her eyes sparkling.

“Hello again,” she said. “Are you…okay?”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“You look sort of like you’re in…pain?” She tilted her head slightly and he had to bite his tongue not to make an embarrassing squeeing noise.

“Oh, I’m quite all right,” he managed to grit out, “You know how it is.”

“Actually, I’m glad that we both decided to stick around. I’d hoped we could have another dance.” Hermione blushed and Severus tried to avoid locking his knees. It would not do to keel over in front of her, after all.

“Indeed,” he replied, taking her hand and trying to mirror what he’d seen other wizards with proper etiquette training do.

“I must  admit, I am looking forward to it,” he said, twirling her around gently, not daring to look her in the eye when he said it.

“Oh?” she asked.

“The…thing you mentioned…that I helped you with?” Severus wanted to disappear into his shoes. He’d been practically obsessing about it for the past few weeks, but he’d had very little luck guessing at what it could be.  But what if he was overreacting? Blowing things out of proportion? Hermione seemed to be humoring him with her smile and her sparkling eyes, but what if she-

“Well, while we’re admitting things, I was a bit intimidated by you at first,” Hermione admitted, cutting off Severus’ frenzied thoughts instantly, “but now that I’m talking to you, I feel rather silly about having been afraid.  You’ve definitely changed for the better, Severus.”

Severus could feel his cheeks flushing at the sound of his name. Normally, he disliked how harsh his first name sounded when spoken aloud, but Hermione made it sound beautiful.

“What about your two male cohorts?” Severus asked, trying not to let any overt malice enter his voice. He did not want them to interrupt yet again.

He’d seen the headlines earlier that year regarding the big, public fight that had ensued after Weasley had asked for Hermione’s hand in marriage, and she’d refused politely, citing her desire to continue her studies before settling down. Potter, on the other hand, was determined to force Severus to join his happy family, much to Severus’ dismay.  He sent letters, cards, and even tried to visit his house from time to time.  Severus had become very skilled in the art of pretending that he was never home.

“Oh, they’ve been up in the VIP room for ages,” Hermione replied, gesturing to the stairs that wound up on the side of the room and opened up into some sort of second floor atrium with charmed glass windows that shone brightly with magic so that the people on the other side could see out but no one could see in. “That’s where all the good food is, and they don’t make you dance.”

Severus glared up at the windows, as though he’d be able to see into them if he did so, but they remained opaque.

“Harry has a hard time going out in public without either being assaulted by rabid fans or attacked by people who want to be the one to kill the guy who killed Voldemort.”

Severus winced at the name out of habit though his arm did not actually hurt when she said it, thanks to his patented Cursed Wound Salve.  He’d begun work on it immediately after he’d realized that his cursed snake bite and the faded Dark Mark still had some residual power left in them that left him with debilitating pain, especially when the weather changed.  It had taken him almost a year to perfect it, but after he had finally erased the lingering reminders of the two biggest mistakes of his life, he’d slept soundly ever since.

The song finally ended, and he found himself being led easily by Hermione out to a balcony where they could be alone.

“Don’t worry,” Hermione assured him, “This won’t take long.”

She grinned at him conspiratorily, and before he knew it, he found himself smiling back at her.  This revelation made him blush, which made him feel increasingly out of his depth. Then, she pulled out her wand, warding the doors shut and turning back to him.

Instinctively, Severus felt his fingers itch to curl around his own wand. He didn’t like being backed into a corner without an escape route, even though his bloody heart was shouting at him to shut up and stop being so goddamn suspicious all the time.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, noticing his discomfort, “but it was necessary…I don’t want anyone to disturb us.”

She pulled her arm out of her sleeve until she was bare up to her shoulder and showed him the clean flesh on her upper arm. “During the war, Bellatrix tortured me and carved a word with a cursed knife right here, but thanks to your salve, it’s completely gone.  It…it really helped me heal in more than one way.”

Severus immediately felt guilty about all of the amorous thoughts that he’d been harboring.  Here he was, looking at her like a regular letch and she had just wanted to show him how well his potion had worked.

Goddamnit.

“You can touch it if you’d like,” Hermione said, indicating the soft skin on the side of her upper arm.  The way she looked at him was pure sex, and Severus had to stomp on his other foot with one dragonhide boot to refrain from doing as she’d said.

“Actually, I would like to cast a diagnostic spell, if you would let me,” he replied thickly, pulling out his wand and waiting for her reply. The truth was, he didn’t trust himself to touch her. It was too dangerous. It was already dangerous enough to look.

She nodded.

He cast the spell, moving his wand over the length of her arm, marveling at how there was not even a trace of the curse left over. Without thinking, he gently placed his fingers against her skin and ran them over the space she’d indicated earlier.  Her skin was soft and whole.  

“Beautiful,” he breathed again, this time not bothering to apologize.  It was, after all, true.

Hermione let out a soft noise, something between a purr and a sound of agreement. When Severus looked up at her face, he noticed that her pupils had blown wide as she watched his fingers sliding against her supple, silken skin.

“Also,” she said shyly, “I used it on this one as well, and it…well…I hope you don’t mind me showing you…”

This time, she seemed to hesitate before moving to unbutton her plain brown robes down to her waist. Pulling them to the side enough to show a flash of her bra and her sun-kissed skin underneath, Severus inhaled sharply.

The massive scar- the one he’d helped Madam Pomfrey heal after that horrible night in the Hall of Prophecies- it was-

“Gone,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. His fingers reached out as though of their own accord, to touch the space between her breastbone where the thick cord of cursed scar tissue had been. This time, as he traced his fingers against the softness of her skin, she shivered with delight and made a soft panting noise, obviously enjoying his attention.

“You have to understand,” Hermione gasped, “I wanted to write you a letter and leave it at that, but I couldn’t…I had to…I had to see you…let you…”

“Hermione,” Severus bent forward, his breath clouding against Hermione’s cheek, “I…I do not think it is wise for me to keep doing this.”

She angled her head up so that his breath came hot against her lips, which were as flushed as her cheeks. “And why is that, Severus?”

He shivered to hear his name said in such a way. “Because…I…I want to…I…”

Hermione nudged her way upwards until her lips nearly touched his. “But what if I told you that I wanted you to?”

Severus was inordinately glad for the ward on the door behind them as he firmly pressed his lips against her with a moan loud enough to warrant casting a Muffliato for good measure.  Her fingers curled around his hips gently and he sagged into her, letting her pull him against her with a sigh of need. Trailing kisses down her neck, her ran his tongue against the naked skin of her arm in the place that Bellatrix had marked so cruelly.   Hermione kissed him everywhere she could reach as he kissed her, holding her tightly as he did so.  There was something about her that had drawn him in from the beginning, but here, now, it was a lesson in holding back against his overwhelming desire to take her then and there.

Her fingers were sliding down the slight gap around the waist of his trousers and he moaned loudly into her mouth at the pleasure this brought him. Even with his long, imposing robes, he always wore trousers underneath, but at the moment, he was very much regretting having them.

“If we don’t stop soon…it might go too far,” he panted, as she began undoing the buttons at his neck.

“I don’t care,” she replied ardently, “This may be my only chance to see you…to properly…to let you know that I…”

She kissed him firmly and pulled away with great effort. “I’ve read all of your papers. They’re brilliant. Your potion for cursed scars saved my body, but it also saved my mind. I was having flashbacks, nightmares, pain…it was hell.  Anyone who can make such an amazing item and sell it at such a modest fee is someone I can’t help but feel for, especially in light of…everything.”

“Well, then, let me prepare a rebuttal,” Severus replied. “You are gorgeous.” He kissed her nose. “You are kind.” He kissed her cheeks. “You are smart.” He kissed her lips. “And you are a force to be reckoned with.” He kissed her chest above where her heart lay. “I came to this damnable function because I needed to see you again. I would be an utter dunderhead if I walked away from all of that in the name of propriety.”

With that, he kissed her mouth deeply, his mind going blank with pleasure.   Behind them, the clock began to strike midnight and Hermione mewled with delight underneath him.

“Shall we?” Severus asked, pulling away, his wand at the ready.

“Oh, yes, please,” Hermione replied, her eyes half lidded.

His heart hammered in his chest as he grabbed her tightly around the waist and they Disapparated just as the last stroke of midnight faded away.