#it occurs to me that the epilogue is six months down the line so maybe it'd be reasonable to hint at them still having feelings

[blackjackkent]

Aw, our post-dock, pre-epilogue scene with Wyll starts out with a bit of Durge stuff!

Narrator: You slept like a babe, straight through the night. Dreamless, thoughtless, and almost entirely free.

It occurs to me that I never had Rakha take the Elfsong room during the game, which means this is definitely the first time she's ever slept on a bed this nice ever. Plus this is the first night she's ever spent not battling her brain at all, the first night the battle has not been hanging over her...

(Plus the dialogue coming up suggests she and Wyll made love before going to sleep. :P )

This is the first truly good sleep she has ever had. She is definitely out like a light for a solid like... fourteen hours. And when she wakes, she doesn't open her eyes at once, just lies there, feeling the soft steadiness of the bed beneath her, the gentle touch of the blankets, the emptiness inside her mind.

Narrator: For the first time, you feel alone. Calm, you breathe.

Narrator: Bhaal may have been your beginning, but he will not be your end.

Narrator: Of all those you killed in your father's name, one lingers in your mind even now. Alfira, the Bard of the Emerald Grove. Her death weighs upon you still.

Oof, yeah. :( Alfira's death has drifted more to the back of Rakha's mind as so many other problems have built up. But it has always lingered as the first thing that the beast compelled her to do, and still in many ways the darkest. She still has no memory of the actual act; her body was entirely outside of her control, and all subsequent time was spent caught in an agony of effort to prevent it from happening again.

But it won't. Not ever again. She is free.

Narrator: A burden you will carry for the rest of your days - but fortunately you will not have to carry it alone.

-----

(A/N: This next sequence with Wyll had the potential to be wildly tonally out-of-sequence for Rakha's relationship with him, but it actually works pretty okay. I'm definitely playing fast and loose with how Theo Soloman actually read these lines, because he was absolutely directed with the assumption that Wyll and the PC are going off to a happy ending, whereas with Rakha it's a little more complicated. But overall the whole thing is not wildly off-base.)

Sometime earlier in the morning, Rakha heard Wyll get up and get dressed and go out for a little while; she heard him talking with a few others in the hallway. And then she fell asleep again and stayed that way for several more hours, judging by the slant of the sun out the window.

When she wakes again, he is back, lying on the bed with his head resting on one hand, just watching her. There is a smile on his face, soft, affectionate, a little rueful and sad.

They spent the night together. It was only their second time doing so, and part of Rakha felt guilty at allowing it. She knows it is a matter Wyll takes very seriously, and she knows - and suspects he knows too - that it is probably the last time. But at the same time... she relished it, one more moment of trust and connection, with nothing dragging at the inside of her mind to distract her from him, from what he has meant to her.

It is hard to gauge exactly what is going on in his mind. When he sees her open her eyes, he reaches out and brushes his fingertips gently against her cheek. "My shining star," he murmurs.

She watches him, her eyes half-closed, letting him touch her, focusing on the feeling of his fingers.

Eventually he draws back, sits up on the edge of the bed, then stands. She watches him, attentive to every nuance of his movement.

Shining star. From the very beginning, he saw light in her that she did not. She still doesn't, in a way. But she is beginning to hope that she might one day, that she is starting on the path to being the sort of person he has made her want to be.

He gets up, slowly wandering across the room, eyeing the window as he goes past. "Since I've known you," he says thoughtfully, "we've shed more blood than could ever fill the Chionthar. The wounds we sustained were the testament to our might."

(A/N: This seems like kind of in poor taste to say to a recovering Durge, but what do I know. :P )

As she stands to follow him, he turns to face her, that soft smile still on his lips. "But last night, I swear to you - your touch healed every one of my bruises and wiped away every scar," he murmurs. "Through you, I've been born anew."

Narrator: A moment passes. Wyll's eyes glance up to his horns.

Rakha lets the silence stretch. She knows where this discussion is heading already; they have both seen it coming for a while. But she doesn't want to hurry it along. Let there be a few more moments... just a few more...

"There's something I need to ask you," Wyll finally says quietly. "Something terrible, something greedy, something unreasonable." He squares his shoulders, forces his eyes up to meet hers. "I'm the Blade of Avernus," he says. "I swore to cleanse the Hells of the devils that threaten the Coast."

His eyes harden with sudden determination. "And I know my first target - Mizora. I won't let her claim one more soul, slay one more victim. I'm going to make my way to the Hells and tear the horns right off her damned head."

He hesitates, takes a step forward, takes one of her hands in both of his. "I want you to join me," he says softly. "A reasonable person would say 'no.' I still want you to say 'yes.'"

She wants to say yes, for him.

None of this is a surprise, really. He has already told her he means to battle devils now that the brain is dealt with. He has already told her he means to go to Avernus. Mizora being his first target is new, but not surprising either, and who is she to judge him for a quest of revenge. She would tear Mizora's horns off herself, given half the chance.

And she does want to be with him. He has made her feel worthwhile, all this time, even when she felt she least deserved it. He has helped her to nurture that tiny little light inside her, and whatever she makes of herself now, it will be at least in part because of him.

And she knows he loves her too. He has invested himself in her struggles and triumphs and thrilled to see her overcome them, and he has danced with her in the darkness and talked with her about the world, about his city, and seen both anew through her eyes.

And yet... all of this is still not enough, and they both know it.

She can't go to Avernus. She can't give him forever. She doesn't want to fight anymore, and she needs to figure out who she is before she can make those kind of promises. And he has new battles ahead, and he needs someone who is whole and certain and steady, someone who can be leaned on at times instead of always needing to do the leaning.

(A/N: Tweaking some dialogue here to make it match Rakha's (and Wyll's) thought process a little more. Game dialogue in footnotes as usual.)

"Surely you've earned a rest as well,"(*) she says in a low voice.

"It's not about me," Wyll says earnestly. "It's about every desperate soul Mizora will recruit to the Blood War, every life she snuffs out on Zariel's whims." His fists clench. "I want you to see my blade slice her wings off her back, to hear her groans as she dissolves into ash." A muscle works in his jaw as he stares at her. "Say you'll come."

There was a time when such words would have stirred her - not just because of the beast, but because of her own rage and anger. Attack with purpose, Lae'zel taught her, and Mizora's death is a purpose beyond almost any other. There was a time when he could have convinced her to go.

But she is tired. This night she has just spent, full of calm and peace and empty thoughts and memory, has only made her more certain of it. She needs to rest, and she needs to live. And she is finished with it all, done with killing. Whatever purpose she finds next, it will not take a blade.

And he knew this before he asked, honestly. She's certain of it. This is wistfulness and wishful thinking, not a true request. He wants her to know that if she wanted to come with him, he would welcome her in a heartbeat. He wants her to know that he still loves her, wherever he is headed.

"I know, Wyll," she says, her voice low as ever but oddly gentle, answering the meaning of his words as much as than the words themselves. "But no."(*)

Wyll sighs, his head bowing in answer. "So be it," he murmurs. "The next we meet, my blade will be stained with Mizora's blood."

He reaches out and takes her hand again, gripping it tightly. "All I can ask, then, is... wait for me. If you can't - if you *wont'*, then know this... wherever you go, you take my heart with you. So strong is my love that not even a devil could break it."

She squeezes his hand back fiercely. She knows that he means what he says; if she were to go with him right now, he would love her with every fiber of his being, and perhaps they would carve out a life worth living on the hellplain.

But she can't. She needs to live, to find herself, here. And he needs to go.

Perhaps she will still be waiting when he is finished. It's not impossible. She has no real intention of finding someone else; it is hard to picture herself building this bond again.

But regardless - he also takes a piece of her heart with him to Avernus, because he has changed her for the better, and nothing in this world or any other can ever change that.

-----

(*) In-game line: "A revenge quest? You're better than this, Wyll."

(**) In-game line: "You're on your own." A bit too blunt for what I'm going for here. :P

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Seven

Summary: In which Pretty Girl and Flip take things to the next level after dating 6 months. 

Warnings: Smut, language, talk of period sex, copious amounts of fluff. WC-5,507

A/N: Ah! I can’t believe this is the final chapter-just the epilogue to go now! Thanks so much for enjoying this story, it’s been wonderful to share. [Just to be clear, I’m a cis female and speak from experience in regards to the embarrassment that occurs around period sex. That scene is basically inspired by my own incredible husband. We celebrate menstruation on this blog!]

“I think we have to break up.”

A soft breeze blew in the window over the sink, the promise of summer in the air. He was wearing an old t-shirt and jeans and a frown that contrasted against the warmth in the air. Flip stared across the kitchen at (Y/N), eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Now why the hell is that, exactly?” He questioned, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms.  

She gestured at him wordlessly for a moment, then pointed her finger at him accusingly, “I just don’t see how we come back from something like this, Flip. I really don’t.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, darling, come on!” He pleaded, giving his head a shake in disbelief.

(Y/N) marched to the fridge and flung it open, her back to Flip for a minute as she dug out what she was looking for, then spun around to face him. She had a can of soda in each hand-one Coca-Cola, one Pepsi, her expression indignant.

“These. Are. Completely. Different.” The pucker between her brows appeared as her frown deepened upon seeing him begin to laugh. “Flip! They taste entirely different!”

“Darling, they really, really don’t. It’s all the same, sugar and carbonation. That’s it.”

Setting the pops down on the counter, she huffed stubbornly, mirroring his crossed arms pose and glaring at him. Flip pushed away from the counter, no longer able to resist her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed the top of her head as he let out a rumble of a laugh.

She was pointedly not hugging him back.

“I can tell the difference.”

Flip leaned back and met her gaze, “You want to bet on that, pretty girl?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity at his suggestion.  

“Go on then.” She replied, grinning up at Flip.

Inwardly, though it had been a playful disagreement, he was happy to have her smiling again. Six months together and he still couldn’t stand to see her anything but happy, his daily mission to ensure she smiled and laughed more than anything else-something he was often successful at. He felt like he pulled in oxygen from her laughs and giggles.

“Hmm, well how about I pour each of them into a cup, and you don’t know which is which, and then you taste them and tell me which one is Coke.” He tucked some of her loose strands of hair over her shoulder, simply an excuse to touch her. He watched her consider the offer, warmth and affection shooting through him.

“That’s easy,” She replied with a nod, “And what does the winner get?”

“What do you want?”

He hadn’t meant for the words to come out as suggestive as they did, but (Y/N) simply rolled her eyes, giving him a playful wink. “Well, if I win...then I want to go to your place after lunch and purge your closet!”

Flip groaned, releasing his hold on her, though she remained leaned against him, to run his hands through his hair. “Of all the fucking things, darling!”

Giggling, (Y/N) reached up and stroked Flip’s jaw. “It needs to happen, detective. And since we’re both off this week, there’s never been a better time!”

Flip scoffed, “We’re off because we’re on vacation, pretty girl. Why the hell would I want to clean my damn closet on vacation?”

“Because you won’t do it any other time, you big grump,” Patting his cheek, she arched a brow at him, “Now, if you win?”

He considered for a moment. Initially, he was just going to use this as an excuse for spending the afternoon in bed with her. But now, high stakes were on the line and Flip wanted to match her offer. “Ah, I know,” He said with a grin, “If I win, you’ll let me take you to the gun range to train you on how to use my gun.”

With an exasperated sigh, (Y/N) stepped back from Flip, “Not this again, Flip, I don’t wan’-“

“It’s not about wanting, darling. It’s about safety around firearms, you should at least understand the basics of the one I have on me, just in case.” He reached out and cupped her soft cheeks, thumbs stroking gently. They often bickered about his insistence on keeping her safe, and this was a point of contention for them they had yet to work through.

“Uhg, fine!” She stuck her hand out, and Flip took it in his own to shake, sealing the deal. “I’m going to wander outside and check the mailbox while you pour, I guess.”

Spinning, she barely took a step before Flip smacked her affectionately on the behind, “Trust me, it’ll be fun at the gun range!” He joked, watching her retreating figure with admiration.

Without turning, (Y/N) continued toward the front door and called over her shoulder, “Funny, I was going to say the same about purging your closet, detective.”

With a bark of a laugh, Flip shook his head and turned to the soda’s, grabbing a couple of glasses and setting to his task. Noting which one was the Coke, Flip set them back on the counter and moved the cans to the table, where a delicious looking lunch spread was waiting for their argument to end.

It had begun innocently enough as they prepared lunch together in (Y/N)‘s comfortable kitchen, until he let slip that he didn’t see any difference in the two drinks and his girl lost her damn mind. 

Flip had to admit, in addition to being a wonderful baker, she was a talented cook as well. But years of living alone and not wanting to clog his arteries from eating out constantly led Flip to become a decent cook himself, and he insisted on sharing kitchen duties, regardless of whose home they were at. And so, most days they would find themselves in the kitchen together, cooking, baking and chatting. They tended to spend more time at (Y/N)’s place, for various reasons including the proximity to the station, the overall warmth of her home and her formidable bathtub. Flip was a big fan of ending their days with a long soak before bed, whether he stayed the night or not-though, he mostly stayed the night.

Reentering the kitchen, (Y/N) tossed the mail onto the counter and glanced around at Flip, eyes twinkling. “Ready?” Flip responded by gesturing a hand at the drinks, his eyes sliding down her figure when she turned to them, admiring her curves in the high waisted shorts and a black band tee.

“Go on then, impress me.” He rumbled, watching her closely.

With a smirk, she took a sip of the first drink, loudly and unnecessarily smacking her lips. Her intent was probably to be obnoxious, but Flip found himself becoming semi-hard at her performance, eyes on her plump lips. She set the drink down and picked up the second, already smiling, and took the sip.

“Easy, detective,” She bragged, setting the second glass back on the counter. She pointed to it, looked at Flip over her shoulder and proudly announced, “This is the Coke.”

Damn it, she was right.

He didn’t even need to reply, as the expression on his face gave him away, and (Y/N) let out a gleeful shout before bouncing over to Flip, standing on her tiptoes and throwing her arms around his neck. One hand splayed out and pressed, urging his head to lower and meet her lips. She tasted especially sweet from her taste test, but Flip didn’t return the kiss, though his hands did settle on her hips instinctively.

“Yeah, yeah, you won,” He conceded grumpily when she pulled away to peer at him with a smug little smirk.

“Oh, come on Flip,” She breathed, rolling her hips into his slightly, “I can feel how not annoyed you actually are.” Groaning at the sensation, Flip shook his head before pointing at the table, ignoring his arousal.

“Lunch, then we’re getting this purge over with, and then maybe I’ll consider this,” He slid his hand between their bodies and patted his erection. “Maybe, if you’re a good girl.”

Cheeks blazing at his words, (Y/N) simply nodded at Flip with a small grin and then pulled away from him, moving to the table.

They let lunch stretch along, not rushing as they enjoyed relaxing together. (Y/N) did spend most of it explaining how the process of this clean out would work. Flip just knew he was going to be bagging a lot of clothes for donation or garbage at her insistence because she was right that he hadn’t done a proper tidy out in years. He hadn’t seen the point.

Though now, unbeknownst to her, he did have an idea of why it might be good to do one-in addition to the joy she would gain from doing it, that is. He just needed to ask her.

All in good time, he thought.

+

Four hours later, four, and they were still working away and Flip was starting to lose his patience. (Y/N) held up an old plaid shirt that had some minor tears in it, her face scrunched, “Well, how about this one?” He wasn’t sure if he was bothered more by her endless enthusiasm and patience for him, or her determination to seemingly leave him with little remaining clothing.

“I don’t see why I can’t keep that. It’s good for yard work.”

“Flip,” She deadpanned, “It looks like a bear mauled you while you were wearing this, it’s not suitable for anything.”

With an annoyed huff, Flip wordlessly gestured at the ‘dispose of’ pile. He grabbed a large garbage bag to put that pile into, knowing it would do no good to argue. (Y/N) was smiling away as she hung up a section of shirts he was keeping, ordering them by colour which, he had to admit, was visually very pleasing. After stuffing the throwaways into the bag, Flip had cleared enough space on his bed to lay down, stretching out the wrong way across, his joints clicking in places.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed for a moment, content despite the loss of many, he felt, quality pieces of clothing. Though when (Y/N) had made the point that, due to his overall largeness, his clothing would most certainly benefit men at the shelter who normally couldn’t find donations in their size, he had relented on many items that he didn’t wear anymore.

When he felt a couple of pieces of clothing hit his legs, tossed somewhat carelessly by (Y/N), Flip’s eyes snapped open and he sat up in protest, “Now what are you-Oh.”

Oh.

The clothing had been hers, shorts and shirt on the ground at his feet, (Y/N) stood in a simple white cotton panty and bra combination that instantly had him growing hard. It never ceased to amaze and disarm him, how fucking beautiful she was. Glowing skin, soft curves, plump lips, she was devastating. He often wondered what he'd done to deserve her.

Six months together meant they’d been on plenty of outings, either errands or dates, and he’d see the way others would admire her. He always kept a hand on her lower back when they walked together, both to keep himself steady, and to remind others that she was his, and he was hers. And maybe to remind himself, as well.

“Christ, beautiful, you getting a little warm?” He growled out, unmoving on the edge of the bed. With a coy smile, she walked over to stand in front of Flip, eyes only looking down slightly into his. He’d discovered pretty early in their relationship that she found their size difference just as much of a turn-on as he did.

“A little...worked up,” She admitted, closing the gap between them. With practiced ease, Flip lifted (Y/N) into his lap, her legs straddling his. Her fingers sunk into his hair as he latched his mouth to the curve of her throat, kissing her, then dragging his tongue along her skin. With a moan, she ground her hips down, rolling her heat across his hardness. “Maybe a lot, actually.”

With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her and twisted, depositing (Y/N) on the bed before jumping up to rip off his clothing, eyes never leaving hers as he did. When he pulled down his boxers and he sprang free, her gaze lowered and she licked her lips in anticipation.

“Pretty girl,” He growled, crawling over her and caging her body beneath his, his length resting against her thigh. “Do you think you’ve been a good girl, that you deserve to be fucked?”

(Y/N) gave a keening whimper, struggling to wrap her legs around him. Flip didn’t let her, he braced one hand on the bed next to her head, the other he used to still her hips. He began his assault on her neck and chest then, licking, biting and laving his tongue over the skin to soothe it, leaving light marks just how she liked it.

“Please, I’ve been good, so good, it’s been days, I need you,” She breathed out desperately, writhing under him.

Flip snorted, “That’s your own fault, darling, we could have been doing it every day this past week-“

Still whimpering, (Y/N) cut him off, “No, I told you, I was on my period.”

“And I told you,” Flip pulled back and met her eyes, his expression serious, “Unless it hurts, I don’t care what’s going on down there, it’s natural and it doesn’t bother me.”

They’d had this conversation a few times before, as spending so much time staying over at one another’s meant that, eventually, he’d been with her while she was on her period. And Flip didn’t mind, didn't care, going so far as to call his mother and ask if women were okay to have sex in such a state. After she spent five minutes roaring with laughter, she assured him that yes, with certain precautions taken, and it wasn’t on the worst of cramping days, it was perfectly fine.

But (Y/N) had shut down each time, insisting a few days without sex wouldn’t hurt all the while appearing shy and embarrassed. He hated that she felt that way, but he didn’t pressure her. He simply reminded her it was on the table, whenever she might be ready.

“I know,” Her small hand moved to his cheek, caressing it, expression softening, “Perfect man.” And then her lips found his and the sweet moment was over because it was fierce and possessive and Flip could feel her trembling with anticipation, with need. For him.

With the countless amount of times they had come together, Flip still felt an intense sense of rightness, of home, whenever he was inside of (Y/N), pulling sounds and curses from her lips as he moved. Whether it was a quick and passionate release like this or a night of never-ending pleasure, each and every time was always perfect. Exhilarating. Because they were made for one another, and every kiss or moan or touch only proved it; it was easy, so fucking easy to sink into that feeling of perfection, of irrevocable love so intense it was like taking a hit of a drug every damn time.

“Love you,” He murmured into her hair, his hips pounding into her relentlessly as her legs only encouraged him, tight around his waist to urge him closer, deeper.

Her response was automatic, “Love you more, Flip.” And then she was jerking beneath him as she crashed over the waves of her release, crying out as her walls fluttered back-arching, fingers digging into his shoulders.

His own orgasm washed over him, a long, low moan rumbling out of him as he filled her, his movements slowing, sloppy as he coated her walls with rope after rope of cum. “Fuck!” He finally cried, pulling out to jerk himself a few more times, another few spurts coating her stomach.

With a groan, he flopped on the bed next to her, careful not to push the pile of donation clothing off. Lazily, he draped an arm across her torso, kissing her shoulder. They stayed silent for a short while, catching their breath in the glow of the afternoon sun. These were always his favourite moments; when it was just the two of them blissed out and tired and content.

“I think we should move in together.” He blurted out suddenly. Inwardly he smacked himself on the head for His callousness. He had been thinking about it for a while now and had planned many ways to say it.

But of course, he just spewed out his thoughts with wild abandon. Christ.

(Y/N)‘s head jerked off the bed, and she leaned on her elbow, looking down at FLip with wide eyes. “Wait, seriously?” She was giving him a cautious but promising smile. His heart was pounding in his chest, harder than it had been just ten minutes ago.

Flip nodded, “Yes, pretty girl, seriously. Been thinking it a while,” He sat up, crossing his legs before reaching down to stroke her hair, “We don’t have to if you’re not ready, but I wanted you to know that I’m ready. I hate spending nights without you or coming here to an empty house. I love waking up with you, hell, spending all my time with you.”

He wondered why he chose this exact moment to ask her, when he was naked, his cock softening from their romp, her stomach coated in his spill. It wasn’t exactly romantic, though it did manage to increase the vulnerability he was feeling.

“I, wow, Flip. I’d love that, I hate spending nights apart too. I sleep so much better with you keeping me warm,” (Y/N) giggled, then sat up and took his hands into hers, “There’s a lot to discuss before we make a decision, but I’m ready too, Flip.” Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his.

“Well, can I tell you what I was thinking, and then you can tell me if we’re on completely different pages?”

(Y/N) nodded, a smile splitting wide across her face upon hearing that he’d put so much thought into it. “Let’s hear it, detective.”

Flip grinned, “Well, I’ll be honest I like your place much more, not just for its proximity to the station. And I was thinking, I could rent out this place pretty easily, make some extra cash. Pay half the bills and whatnot at your place, and then maybe when we’re ready, we both sell and get a place a little bigger. Maybe something with a large backyard?” He’d meant to say less, but the more he spoke, the wider her smile grew, eyes sparkling in delight. A warmth was growing within him, spreading through his body. He felt almost giddy.

Instead of replying, (Y/N) launched herself into Flip’s arms, toppling them into the donation pile of clothing, and started peppering him with kisses.

"I'll take that as a yes?" He asked through his wide grin.

(Y/N) giggled, "Oh, detective, it's definitely a yes."

+

“Christ, it had to be the hottest day so far this year, didn’t it?” Flip grumbled, wiping his arms across his forehead and considering removing his shirt, though he wasn’t sure all of his latest love marks had healed up, so he kept it on begrudgingly.

(Y/N), as if knowing exactly when Flip would hit his limit in the heat, suddenly appeared at the propped open doorway, a large glass of lemonade in hand. John and Ron appeared behind her, following her outside with their own glasses. He watched, grateful for his sunglasses, as she walked toward him, hips swaying in her linen shorts, breasts curving beneath the thin white T-shirt she wore. Though she usually kept her hair down at home, it was too hot today and instead had it pulled into a high, messy ponytail.

Patting his arm comfortingly, she handed him a cold glass, “Here, take a minute, you guys are nearly finished.” And her eyes surveyed the remaining boxes, the armchair and the stereo system, all that was left of the items he’d brought from his old house.

“Thank you, pretty girl.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead before gulping down the lemonade like a dying man, already imagining the cold bath he’d be climbing into later on. Preferably with his new roommate.

“Bailey’s got burgers and beers ready in the back, so once you finish up you boys come through and have a rest, alright?” She smiled around at them, Ron and John both nodding eagerly, just as ready as Flip to be finished.

It only took twenty more minutes to get the rest inside, and Flip was impressed when he came through the door the last time and saw how neat everything was. Evidently, while they’d been hauling things inside, (Y/N) had made quick work of organizing anything she could lift. Even though Flip insisted she not do any of the hard work, he could tell by the number of missing boxes that she had carried a lot of them to the rooms they were meant for, getting a head start on the unpacking process.

When he followed his helpful friends outside, he found (Y/N) and Bailey laughing together on the back deck as they plated the burgers. Next to the grill, they had a table set up with all the fixings, including potato salad and, of course, more of (Y/N)‘s baking, this time in the form of mini sugared donuts.

Before he could make his way toward her, (Y/N) caught Flip’s eye and pointed at the lounger, a silent order to take a seat. With a grin he flopped down onto the seat, grateful to be off of his feet and out of the sun. Under the shade, it was much cooler, a soft breeze playing across his sweaty skin.

John walked up to his wife and kissed her on the cheek, thanking her for cooking for them. Ron had copied Flip, sitting in another lounger, his eyes closed. The atmosphere was relaxed, the best part of a busy moving day.

With a beer in one hand and a piled-up plate in the other, (Y/N) plopped herself into Flip’s lap and handed him his reward. With a grateful groan, he pulled the plate out of her hands and immediately started devouring the burger with one hand, the other snaking around her waist to hold her hip. She took a sip of his beer, watching him eat with a happy smile, her cheeks flushed from the heat.

“You two are such an affectionate couple,” Bailey pointed out with a smirk, “Even with a burger you find a way to cuddle, it’s almost annoying.”

The elder (Y/L/N) sister was, in many ways, opposite to (Y/N). She had a cooler, calmer personality, her humour more sarcastic and her gaze a little intimidating at times. Flip liked her, and her husband, quite a lot. They often had dinners together on Friday’s, and Flip had even taken John to the gun range a handful of times, discovering that despite (Y/N)‘s hatred of guns, John and Bailey were a little less wary of them.

“Nah, it’s groovy!” Ron amended with a grin, taking the plate Bailey was handing him with a grateful nod.

“I don’t know,” John said between bites of his food, pointing his burger between Flip and (Y/N), “I think of all the couples I know, you’d be the ones who’ve had sex on every surface and piece of furniture.” Ron and (Y/N) burst into laughter, Bailey shook her head, a small smile on her lips.

Flip flushed, his hand squeezing (Y/N)‘s waist, but made no reply beyond a slight grin. With a bark of warm laughter, John nodded his head, happy with himself.

The rest of that early summer afternoon was enjoyed in good company, the group casually conversing as they lounged in the shade, until the setting sun was low enough in the sky to capture their notice. They all pitched in on tidying up, bringing the leftovers inside while (Y/N) wrapped up a couple of donuts for Ron to take home. Congratulations and thank-yous were exchanged, along with heartfelt hugs and cheek kisses.  

And then, it was just Flip and (Y/N), waving goodbye from the front door with wide smiles; alone at last. His mind on drawing a cool bath, Flip was caught off guard when he was suddenly pushed against the wall, and (Y/N)'s lips were crashing into his.

Flip was never one to question these types of moments, instead, his hands found the curve of (Y/N)‘s hips, pulling her close as his tongue licked into her mouth, and a moan escaped them both. They stayed like this for a few minutes, making out as they clung to one another, until (Y/N) pulled back and smiled up at him with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to go back to your place tonight, right?”

Flip shook his head with a smile, “No, I’m meeting the new tenants there tomorrow afternoon.”

Her eyes darkened considerably at his response, pupils blown with desire. Flip’s hands tightened on her hips in anticipation, eager to hear her next words.

“In that case, wait out here for about three minutes and then meet me in the room, okay detective?” She murmured, then pulled away and danced off toward their bedroom.

Flip stayed against the wall, considering for a moment and then deciding to strip off his little remaining clothing. He heard the sounds of the tub being filled as he pulled his shirt over his head, and his cock twitched in anticipation. He then wandered into the kitchen, helped himself to a glass of water, and then figured it had probably been long enough.

Making his way down the hall, careful to skirt around a few boxes piled somewhat precariously, Flip felt an overwhelming sense of joy; the stressful work was over, and now he was living with his girl full time. If anyone had told him last year that he’d come back to work after that fucking Klan case and meet the love of his life, he’d have scoffed at them, convinced he was an unlovable son of a bitch.

And then (Y/N) came along and found her way into his heart, shattering every doubt he had of himself and somehow, amazingly, fell in love with him. He’d never been happier, a sentiment that he knew he thought almost too often, but if the other shoe was going to drop, it missed its chance. He even liked fighting with the woman, for Christ's sake. Though they didn’t argue much beyond occasional bickering, especially since she apparently had an unlimited supply of patience for his various sour moods, they did sometimes had what Flip considered a ‘blow out’.

After each one of these intense fights, they would somehow meet in the middle, always willing to compromise with one another no matter how passionately they’d been arguing. And then, the sex that would follow was always mind-blowing, fast and powerful, and selfish. They’d each work to bring themselves off, which was never the case otherwise, usually striving to bring as much pleasure to the other as they could.

But Flip had always heard that makeup sex was on another level.

He had known for a long time now that he wanted to marry her. They’d spoken of it a few times, casually, each sussing out the other’s reaction carefully. Flip had learned that she hadn’t ever wanted a big wedding, something her sister had wanted, which had solidified the decision in her mind that it wasn’t for her. This suited him just fine, as he wasn’t one for big parties and it meant he could invest more money in the ring, get her something she could be proud to wear.

But first, there was tonight.

When he walked into the master bath, completely naked and already mostly hard, his cock stiffened further at the sight in front of him. Of her.  

(Y/N) turned to face Flip, and though his eyes swept over her beautiful face, they didn’t linger as he took in the sight of her, standing wearing his favourite buffalo plaid shirt, unbuttoned with absolutely nothing else on. She’d taken her hair down, and it fell in waves around her shoulders, brushing against her stiff buds.

He couldn’t even form words, he was so turned on, seeing her wearing his clothes, standing ready for him to do whatever he wanted with her. He came undone entirely when, upon seeing his leaking, hard cock, she fucking whimpered.

With a growl, Flip closed the distance between them, swiftly lifting her onto the bathroom counter, which happened to leave her dripping heat at the perfect height for him to thrust forward, filling her in one motion. Fuck, she was tight around him, and so wet already.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” He groaned as she cried out his name repeatedly, “So fucking wet for me already.” He adjusted his arms, putting each under her legs so that she was pressed back and folded, exposing her enough to find an angle that tore screams of pleasure from her as he slammed his hips into her, splitting her open most satisfyingly.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s so good, so perfect Flip.” She whined, trying to keep herself steady on the counter as he absolutely ruined her with brutal thrust after thrust. He could hear himself growling and groaning out her name each time he pulled back, living for the way she screamed his when he would slam back in.

Keeping his arms hooked under her legs, Flip removed his hands from the counter and pressed them into her lower back under the shirt, both forcing her body a little closer and helping her to stay upright. He was impressed at her flexibility, though he checked her face as he moved, ensuring she was comfortable. The way her eyes rolled back told him everything he needed to know.

“You take my cock so well, you know that? Perfect little girl,” He broke off and moaned as he felt her walls tighten further around him as he spoke, her orgasm closing in. “Fuck, you love it when I tell you what a good girl you are, don’t you?”

Her mouth fell open for a moment before she could find the ability to speak, “I love it, I’m such a good girl for you, you fucking fill me so well, Flip,” (Y/N) whimpered out, her body beginning to tremble. “Fuck, I’m going to come!”

He increased his pace, her words bringing him closer to the edge, “Go on then, cum all over me, pretty little girl, and I’ll fill you up. Fucking give you all my cum.” He growled out, and her eyes rolled back again as her body seized up, her walls fluttering around him and her cries unintelligible. When Flip looked down at where their bodies connected, he saw just in time as her juices squirt out for him, splashing him in the warmth and fucking sending him barreling over the edge, his movements slowing as he pushed himself as deep as he could and releasing his cum into her.

It took several moments to come down from their high, the combination of the happy, emotional day, and the two days they hadn’t been able to have sex because of the busy work that was moving, made it so that their peaks were nearly debilitating. Flip could have sunk to the floor, he was so exhausted. Just able to remain standing, he instead slowly slipped himself out of (Y/N), both of them watching as their combined fluids seeped out of her deliciously. He was careful to let her legs down slowly, and she groaned in a little discomfort as he did.

“Bath time,” He whispered, helping her off the counter and to the toilet first. Once she finished, he stepped into the lukewarm water and helped her in after him, lowering them slowly until they could cuddle up, (Y/N) between his legs, her back on his chest. The water was a sweet relief to both the heat of the day and their sore muscles. They laid together for a long time; until the sun was gone and the twilight light was too dark for them to see anymore and sleep was a whisper away.

“You ready for a nice long sleep, detective?” (Y/N) asked him as they dried off, her eyes half-closed with exhaustion that he was certainly was mirrored on his face.

“In our bed, darling.” He replied, with a sly smile. She giggled happily, tossing her towel into the hamper.  

When they climbed into bed together, still naked, (Y/N) laid her head on Flip's chest. One hand trailed lazily along his flat stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I love you so much, Flip Zimmerman.”

His heart stuttered. He brought the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her to tilt her face up, meeting her tired gaze. “I love you more, pretty girl.” And he leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a goodnight kiss.

Both of them fell asleep easily mere moments later, wrapped up in one another in all of the best ways.

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Tag list ✨

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[yuzukult]

effortlessly pt. 4 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly  pairing: jungkook x reader genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut (not in this chapter) words:  3.8k on the shorter side note: again, i may need to do some proofreading!!! enjoy :)

series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue 

The sun shining through the blinds warms your skin as you groan while rubbing your eyes drowsily at the contact. Sliding off Jungkook’s body and cloaking your face into the pillow, you sigh heavenly. Although still exhausted, after confessing your feelings to the sleeping Jungkook the night before, you felt relieved. 

Jungkook? He thinks he hasn’t slept a wink. There may have been a moment or two where he dazed off to the point that he thought he fell asleep but in actuality, he could barely get himself to close his eyes long enough. 

Well, you did tell him you loved him last night. 

How else was he supposed to react? He spent the entire 8 hours with a billion thoughts running through his mind incessantly. Sure, he constantly showered you with affection, occasionally slipping in some pick up lines, and flirting ceaselessly but he never believed that you would ever reciprocate those same feelings... or even come close to the point of potentially realizing how you felt. A hopeful dream was what it was and the only way to prevent heartbreak was to prioritize his aspirations to become a swimmer. 

Regardless of that... he’d been in love with you for over a decade, so what does this mean now?

You confessed to his sleeping body, or well— “sleeping.” Does he tell you that he heard everything you said? Would that be too much? It felt like he was eavesdropping on a conversation he shouldn’t have listened in on, even if you were saying it directly to him. But you said those things unfiltered, assuming that he wouldn’t hear anything.

Chewing his bottom lip with his brows wrinkled, he pondered in silence as your body beside him is shifting constantly under the covers, switching in different positions. Edges of his mouth twitching into a soft smile at the sight of you, he runs his fingers through his messy locks, finally coming to a decision.

Jungkook is going to take this opportunity to tell you that he loves you. The proper way, of course, since technically he isn’t supposed to know about your confession. He’s going to make up for what happened with what should have happened.

“You’re awake?” You grumble, voice husky. He chuckles at the sound, pinching your cheek gently. “Yeah, been awake for a while. Getting up any time soon?”

Shaking your head, you drop your face back into the pillow, muffling your words. “I just wanna sleep all day. Did you have any plans for today?” 

He hums a moment in thought, glancing over at you. “I didn’t initially, but I think we should do something today. Did you have anything in mind that you want to do lately?”

Turning your head, you glare at your best friend. “You’re the one who wants to go somewhere.”

“True but I wanted to give you the option to pick.”

Rolling your eyes, you purse your lips in response. “Let’s get pizza and go to the beach.”

“Beach?”

“Yeah, you said you wanted to give me an option to pick. I heard it’s going to be nice and hot outside, and if you’re not letting me stay indoors in the amazing AC, you’re taking me to the beach to cool down.”

“Sassy,” He says, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. “But okay. We can do that. I’m down for it.”

“Just us two?”

“Just us two.” You liked the sound of that.

The sun barely pecks your skin in the morning but it’s noon now, and the sun hates you. Toes digging into the sand as Jungkook leads to find a spot to put the umbrella, you’re weeping from the heat under your feet and the sun scorching your skin.

“Jungkook, I’m fucking melting.”

“Yes miss, we are all melting in this heat. We are all bitches to the sun right now.”

You’re grumbling, dragging your legs with you as you fix the straps on the duffle bag that sits as a crossbody on your frame. “Jeon, hurry up and pick a spot before I become one with the sand!”

“Quit being such a drama queen.” He rolls his eyes playfully, finally deciding on a spot that wasn’t too far from the water but wasn’t close enough to be swept in by the tide. “This seems like a good spot.”

“It only took months.” He flicks your forehead. “I said quit it, drama queen.”

After sticking the umbrella into the sand and setting up the rest of the necessities for the day, you throw your body onto the mat, groaning loudly in relief that the tasks had been completed. “I enjoy this, other than the sun burning my skin before I even got the chance to put on sunscreen.”

“You’re still in your denim shorts and T-shirt,” Jungkook comments, now shirtless with just his swim trunks on. “That’s why you’re sweating like that. Hurry and get ready, I’ll put sunblock on you.” Abiding by his instruction, you strip yourself from the shirt that clings to your body in sweat and the thick shorts that absorbed most of the sun’s heat. Left in your bikini, you turn yourself around to lay on the mat.

His breath hitches again— it seems to be a common reaction from him lately to anything that has to do with you. He wishes he could press butterfly kisses against your soft and supple skin but he shakes away the urges before squirting some of the sunscreen in his hands and rub your back.

“Hold on.” You say and he pauses, hands stopping in midair. Your arm reaches around to your back, pulling the strands of your black bikini to unravel, exposing more of your back and he clears his throat when he loses control of his breathing patterns. “What are you doing? We’re in public.”

“Tan lines,” you respond casually, resting your cheek on a folded towel. “Go on.”

Jungkook felt like he was having an inner argument with himself. Everything you did was almost in a teasing manner, and especially with the newfound knowledge that you’re in love with him— he can’t help but find you even more attractive than before. Maybe he was delusional, but he was starting to feel like you were doing this on purpose.

“Thanks.” Retying your top, you turn yourself around to lay on your back, lathering the lotion onto the front portions of your body. “You want me to do yours?”

“No.” He quickly replies, face flushed pink. The thought of your hands touching his skin... he didn’t think he’d be able to handle it. Realizing how suspicious he sounded, he corrects himself. “I mean, no... I’m okay.”

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you tighten your grasp before pulling him onto the mat and forcing him to lay on his stomach, squirting a decent amount of the product onto your hands. He’s groaning at the sudden impact, face pressed against the toughness of the mat, rubbing his face with his hand. “What was that for?”

“You’re just being so weird today.” Applying the sunscreen onto his back, you move in motions as his body tenses under your touch. “Can you just relax? You’re starting to be even more weird. Weirder than usual.”

“Weirder than usual?” He reiterates, words a bit muffled from his cheek being crushed. “I’m not being weird.”

“Yes, you are.” You retort sternly, slapping his lower back to insinuate your completion of the task. “All morning. You said you slept, but I can tell you didn’t because well... look at your eyebags! Jeon, what’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t worry about it! Let’s enjoy the day.” He says, finishing up the rest of his body before giving you a wave and jumping into the water.

Jungkook is and always will be insufferable.

Your favorite part of any beach trip is when the sun begins to set, the breeze from the ocean kicking in, and the fragrance of the salty sea is inhaled into your lungs, bringing you a sense of peace and tranquility. The best view along with this is Jungkook, who sits in the sand, feet and lower half of his body submerged in the water, enjoying the weather. The top of the evening was that both your stomachs are full with pizza for dinner.

Standing up from the little area that the two of you had made for yourselves, you invite yourself into a spot beside your best friend, resting your head on his shoulder. “This is nice. The weather, the water, just us. We haven’t had this in a while.”

Turning his head to glance at you, a soft smile appears on his lips. “We’re always together.”

“Not alone, not like this.” You sigh, fingers drawing shapes along the sand. “We’re usually with someone. Your team, Yura... anyone, really. I miss when it’s just the two of us. It feels like you’re afraid to actually be alone with me or something.”

“We have sleepovers though, what about that?”

“Do we ever really talk during movies? Then we sleep right after.”

Lately, it had occurred to you that despite all this “time” that you had been spending with Jungkook wasn’t really any time. Lunch had been inhabited by engaging with girls who crushed on Jungkook, and the remaining times were dedicated to socializing with Yura and his teammates. Movie nights were great, but silence would burden the room, and afterwards, he’d be too tired from a swim meet that he would fall asleep instantaneously. There was no more ‘you and Jungkook’ time. It felt like only just you.

“I guess... I really never thought of it like that.” He admits, fingers threading through his dampen locks. He senses the tenderness in your voice at the topic, a tightening feeling in his chest knowing that he’s the one making you feel this way. “I never paid attention to any of that. Did you feel that way for a while?”

“It’s alright though, just something I have to get used to.” Tearing your head off his shoulder, you lay your body completely onto the sand. “Sometimes I forget that we’re not together. It’s hard because there’s...” Sucking in a deep breath of courage, you continue. “... there’s a fine line between friendship and relationship. That’s why I didn’t want to... you know, have sex again. It felt as though you only wanted to do this because of sex.”

“What?” He interjects immediately, head snapping in your direction. “That’s crazy. I wanted to do it again because I was afraid I ruined it for you.”

“I thought I told you it was good enough!”

“But ‘good enough’ isn’t good enough for me. I love you, and I want to make you feel good, I want to make you feel what you’re worth, and that it wasn’t just some deployment to get rid of our virginities. I meant what I said, I really wanted to give mine to you.”

“Jungkook, you know I love you too. But don’t you want to do it with someone else?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t think you know what it means when I say that I love you.”

Furrowing your brows questioningly, you prop your head onto your arm. “What are you talking about.”

Sighing frustratedly at himself, he positions his body down completely beside yours, head resting on top of his forearm. “I’m in love with you. I thought that you’d never feel the same way about me. I know you thought I was sleeping last night, but I heard what you said.”

Your body is stunned rigid. Jungkook doesn’t stop. “You were my best friend since grade school, and I enjoyed every minute I got to spend with you. Truthfully, I think the time I started to fall for you was when we hit early high school and I realized that guys were chasing you. I never noticed it before, but seeing it then sparked a fire in me. I hated every one of them, even if they were a friend. Then again, who was I to tell these people that they couldn’t have you? I didn’t even have the guts to tell you how much I love you.”

Mouth agape, you inhale deeply. “I... you heard me last night?”

“Of course. I just... didn’t know how to react because what if I make you uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable? You’ve vomited, farted, and took a shit in the bathroom as I was showering, and now you’re worried if I’m uncomfortable?” Sitting up with sand sticking to your skin, you ignore the discomfort and lock your gaze with his. “Jungkook, I really meant what I said last night. I... didn’t think you’d ever like me back because you seemed like you weren’t interested in any relationship, honestly.”

“And I meant what I said when I told you that you’re the only girl in my life.”

Lips pursed in the reticence, you dig your toes into the ground, hesitant about speaking. “What does this make us now?” 

Hair pushed back from swimming earlier and cheeks flushed pink from either being sunburned or from finally confessing his feelings for you, he watches your actions. “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

Everything is marginally outlandish on Monday morning after spending almost every waking moment with Jungkook over the weekend since the confession. There had been heated kisses, multiple cuddling sessions, and deep conversations that lasted through the hours of the night until one of you fell into a deep slumber.

But Monday morning? This means that the time together will include other people. Maybe less PDA, sure, but the thought of people finally knowing that the two of you were an item was... exhilarating, and if you were being forthright, you wanted to show off to the entire school population who Jungkook belonged to.

He’s standing outside of your house, waiting patiently with his car grunting after the start, leaning against the hood with a bright grin spread across his face. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You look beautiful today.” You think he looks cute smiling cheekily like this. He actually looks like an idiot in other people’s eyes because of how dorky he is.

“I look like this everyday.”

“I know. That just means you’re beautiful everyday.”

Clicking your tongue at the cheesy comment, you make your way down the steps of your front porch as he opens the passenger door for you. “Well, this is new. You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve also never had a real serious girlfriend before, and here we are.”

“If I knew what I was signing up for, I don’t think I would’ve agreed to this.” He’s in the driver’s seat at this moment, eyes still darting hearts in your direction as he gives your nose a gentle peck. “I’m just happy you’re mine now.”

“So... I take it as you told him you love him?” Yura’s doing the thing where she’s stuffing food in her mouth as she talks, but this time it’s some type of Japanese bread she raves about. “Yura... you’re getting bread all over my desk.”

She rolls her eyes in response, showing you her hand before swiping the crumbs off the surface. “Done-zo. So what now? You guys are dating? Are you going to be one of those girls who will wear their boyfriend’s varsity jacket all around the school? Possibly flaunting that you were able to claim the untouchable Jeon Jungkook?”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“No, you’re not being dramatic enough. What? How long has he been head over heels for you and you had no clue? Not even an ounce?”

“A decade?”

“A fucking decade, my dude. Don’t you just want to show off your new relationship because you’ve waited so long for this moment?”

Pulling off a piece of Yura’s bread, you shove some in her mouth. “Stop talking please, this is so embarrassing.”

“What’s so embarrassing about it?” She accidentally spits a bit of the bread in your face as you scrunch your nose in disgust, wiping off your cheek. “Yura!”

“Sorry. Anyway, what’s so embarrassing about it? You’re acting like he’s some guy who has done bad things and you were desperate enough to settle for a loser. This is your best friend, a potential professional swimmer, who is now your boyfriend. What’s up?”

“I’m kind of scared that all these girls are going to hate me now.” Yura scoffs at your response, shoving the remaining portion of bread in your direction. “You need some sweetness in your morning if you’re going to have such negative thoughts this early in the day.”

“And what about you? Didn’t you also say you had some crush on a guy?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, grabbing another piece of the carb. “He’s my brother’s best friend, not even an arms reach. Let’s switch the topic back to you, though.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore!” You grunted. “Well, too bad because Mr. Stole-Your-Heart is walking here now.”

Shooting your head around, you’re met with a beaming Jungkook with his swimming duffle slung over his shoulder as Hoseok trails behind. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“We keep greeting like this.”

“So we have.”

“Am I missing something here?” Hoseok impedes into the conversation, perplexity written all over his face. “Why are you guys talking like you haven’t been friends for years now?”

“Well,” Yura begins, eying the male. “They haven’t been dating for years so it’s still fresh. Hence the awkwardness.”

“Wait— you’re dating each other?” Appalled, he stumbles onto a desk behind him, hand over his chest. “You actually told her you loved her? This is crazy. Does this mean that you’re also the girl he keeps talking about that he lost his virginity to?”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, glowing coral. “Potentially.”

Adjusting the straps of his backpack on his shoulders, he straightens himself before twirling his body around to exit the classroom. “Sorry bro, I gotta let the team know. I can’t believe you actually went through with it!”

“Hoseok—” Jungkook rubs his face tiredly when his friend leave before giving you an apologetic look. “I’m going to chase after him. I’ll see you after class?”

“I’ll see you after class,” You confirm, and surprisingly enough, he leans in to give you a quick goodbye kiss before waving at Yura.

Yura’s eyes bulged to the point it looked like it would fall out of its sockets. “He— he actually did that? How much did I actually miss? Did you guys do it again?”

“How many questions are you going to ask?”

“All of them. Any single one that pops into my head. How could I not ask you any of these questions? What’s the point of being your friend if I can’t!” Yura jokes and you retaliate by throwing a pen at her.

“Look at who has arrived! The woman who has tamed our special Kook’s heart!” Namjoon exclaims brightly at the sight of you entering the pool’s arena, backpack over your shoulder as you make your way to your designated spot in the bleachers. “Jesus, stop embarrassing her.” Jungkook counters, pushing the guys away from your seat.

“Aw, come on. We never got to interrogate her as your girlfriend!”

“Isn’t interrogating her as my friend enough?”

“No,” Jin chimes in. “We didn’t get to ask her the girlfriend questions yet.”

Jungkook scowls at his teammates who bluster him at five against one. “What are you going to ask? I’ll answer for her.” 

“Is she the one you lost your virginity to?”

“When did this happen?”

“Is Jungkook even good in bed? He just looks good but what about his delivery—“

“Whoa, whoa whoa!” Jungkook interrupts, dropping his bag onto the ground. “My delivery? You’re questioning my performance?”

“Performance?” Standing beside you at the bleachers, the entire swim team turns their heads in unison at the voice, faces gleaming at the owner of the voice.

“Taehyung!”

“What’s wrong with Jungkook’s performance?” He raises a brow quizzically, adjusting his own bag that hands across his chest. “He’s a great swimmer.”

Hoseok has his arm around the other male, leading him toward the locker room. “Our little Kook has a girlfriend now, and we’re trying to interrogate his girlfriend about his performance.”

“Jungkook has a girlfriend?” When Jimin responds with your name, Taehyung’s gaze meets your figure as you’re leaning comfortably in the spaces between the bleachers, legs pressed against your chest with AirPods occupying your ears and a book in your hand. 

He never said, but Taehyung always had a slight crush on you. The rest of the swim team, including you, had all been around the same age, but he’d be ahead of the crowd in regards to education, therefore graduated earlier than the rest. Earning a swimming scholarship to study abroad restricted himself from ever letting you know his true feelings, but coming back around meant he could take the opportunity to at least let you know how he felt.

But he was too late. Or so you’d think.

“I got this for you, from the States, that is.” 

“A mug?” Lifting up the Starbucks cup in your hand that he wrapped in a bow so carefully, you’re afraid that you’d accidentally unravel it. Grinning from cheek to cheek, your eyes meet with his. “New York?”

“I visited New York for a little bit before coming back here. Thought of you when I saw that. Figured you would like it.”

Gingerly placing the gift back into its bag, you pull out another item that Taehyun has packed for you. “What— what’s this?” He has a mischievous smile washing over his face, tugging at the bow tie around the plush in your hands.

“A sloth.”

“A sloth?”

Taehyung nods in return, hands slipping into the front pockets of his jeans. “You remind me of a sloth. Always so tired, moves slow sometimes—”

“Tae, are you insulting me?” Laughing at your reaction, he immediately shakes his head in discrepancy. “No, it’s a good thing really. You’re cute, and sloths are cute. Grounded, even though they’re in the trees, relaxing to be around, and you can’t help but to like them.”

Nodding in response, you hold the stuffed animal in your arms, content with his answer. “I’ll take that. I really like this, Taehyung. You didn’t have to bring this back for me.”

“Of course I had to bring you something back.” He bends forward, playfully pinching your nose. “You were always coming to our games to support us. Anyways, there’s a letter in the envelope when you get the chance to look more thoroughly.”

“Yep. Well, if you’d excuse me, they’re going to nag at me for leaving the locker room so suddenly instead of getting dressed to practice with them. I’ll catch you later?” You bow your head in agreement as you watch him run in the route of the locker room before searching through the bag before your fingers meet with a thick piece of paper.

Your name is written on the front of the pink envelope. Something makes your stomach churn at the appearance of the item. Inhaling deeply, you tear off the flap, a little too aggressively that the note falls out and onto the floor.

“What’s this?” Jungkook asks, picking up the mysterious paper, handing it to you. “Who gave you that?”

“Uh... Taehyung.”

[sheliesshattered]

This Isn’t A Ghost Story extras for Chapter 5: The Present

It’s Friday, so the next chapter of This Isn’t A Ghost Story has been posted! Chapter 5 is here on Tumblr, and here on AO3. There are spoilers below the cut, but I walk through the chapter in order, so it’s fairly safe to keep this one open for visual references as you read, if you want.

Those of you who have been following along with my writing process for This Isn’t A Ghost Story may have noticed how the story grew and morphed on me as I wrote. Despite knowing early-on the sort of story I wanted to tell and all the facets of the mystery that would need to be revealed, the story still managed to grow organically and surprise me at various points.

When I finished chapter 4 and started working on chapter 5, I had every intention that chapter 5 would be the final chapter, with a short epilogue that followed -- six chapters total, rather than the eight we ended up with. I knew what plot points and mystery reveals ch5 needed to cover, and I figured I could fit it all into one reasonably sized chapter. Even as late as the last week of July I was still thinking along those lines, and I quite nearly started posting chapters then, thinking I was nearly finished writing. 

But something held me back from posting, and when I woke up the next morning I realized that chapter 5 really needed to be split. What ended up being chapter 5 and chapter 6 are together about 12,300 words, which wouldn’t have been the longest chapter I’ve ever posted, but certainly longer than I meant for chapters in this story to be, and thankfully I was able to find a good spot to split it.

As with the rest of this story, my husband Jack has been acting as my beta reader and in-house cheerleader, and particularly after reading chapter 4 he was really adamant that I keep focusing on writing and get through the story as quickly as possible -- maybe partially so I could start posting, but mostly so he could read it and find out the answers to the rest of the mystery, lol. Starting with chapter 5, he began reading chunks of the chapter as I finished them, and then eventually went back and re-read all of chapter 5. And every time he’s read it, he’s commented that this is his favorite line in the entire chapter:

“No,” she told him firmly. “Not unless you take away my say in it.” She didn’t add again, but she knew they were both thinking it.

Jack and I have been together nearly two decades, and I think it’s that shared unspoken language of spouses that he finds so amusing here.

For most parts of this story, I can’t really pinpoint exactly when I wrote a particular line or scene, as I tend to write non-consecutively as bits come to mind, tackle conversations or plot points I know will need to happen and then fill in the gaps in between, and go over any given section dozens of times making little edits or adding whole paragraphs until it reads the way I want it to, with the sort of pacing and emotional weight I think it needs. But this bit in particular, I know exactly when I wrote it:

“Our story, Doctor... It isn’t the tragedy you think it is. This isn’t a ghost story. It never was. It’s a love story. And if I know one thing about love stories? They always have a happy ending, one way or another.”

July 15th. I’d been having a rough writing day, hated everything I’d written the day before (more or less everything from the start of ch5 to that line, in its first draft form), and was feeling really unmotivated. Then I saw some excellent meta about the episode Hide on my dash that @clara-oswin-oswald​ had just posted. The title for this story comes from something the Eleventh Doctor says in that episode, and here was Sophie talking about that scene again, just when I was ready to stuff This Isn’t A Ghost Story into a drawer and never look at it again.

My intention with the title for this story had always been to evoke that line from Hide, and hope that most people would be able to fill in the second half of the sentence, “it’s a love story”, on their own. But it hadn’t occurred to me until I was reading Sophie’s meta that I could actually have Clara articulate exactly that thought within the story. The 42 words of that line of dialogue was all I managed to write on July 15th, but I woke up the next morning feeling significantly better about the story and ready to dive back in, make the edits that would fix the first part of the chapter, and keep hacking away at the next scenes to come. 

Of course, the next bit I was trying to connect up with was actually something I’d written parts of earlier, that corresponded with the teeny tiny detail I’d posted a little poll about way back at the end of June. I knew I wanted to introduce Clara’s wedding ring around this point in the story, but I got hung up on what it should look like. Theoretically that should be a little inconsequential detail, just a single line of prose to help the reader visualize it better, but the results from that poll -- blue, unusual, and in support of world-building -- ended up leading me down a complete rabbit hole of research, that eventually spawned what turned into chapter 8. I’ll wait to share the details on that for when we reach ch8 at the end of this month, but the relevant bits from chapter 5 are of course Clara’s ring and what inspired the Doctor to pick that one for her in the first place.

Clara’s ring is based on these two antique rings:

The center stone is what’s known as a star sapphire, which are known to be particularly stunning in direct sunlight.

The Doctor tells Clara that when he first saw it -- presumably while ring shopping before their wedding in 1923 -- he was reminded of when he took her to see the archaeological work going on at the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut in 1921. The Temple does in fact have multiple areas where the ceilings are painted blue with rayed stars. It’s a popular motif from that era of ancient Egypt and shows up in a several other places as well.

I picture the jewelry box that Clara digs up as looking something along these lines:

The other piece of jewelry that is mentioned in detail is the necklace the Doctor bought for Clara in 1925. It’s based on the winged sun disk found on many ancient Egyptian temples:

It’s also meant to be a nod to the necklace Clara wears in The Bells of Saint John and The Rings of Akhaten, similar in both design and size:

From there, we get into one of the final remaining mysteries of the story, which the Doctor is clearly reluctant to talk about. There have been hints about this as far back as the first chapter, and from comments on previous chapters, I think a few of you may have guessed that this is where things were headed. Did this reveal turn out the way you thought it would? Or did it surprise you?

Lots of heartbreak at the end of this chapter, but we’re only a few chapters away from our happy ending now. It has been so much fun for me to hear your thoughts and theories as the mystery has unfolded! Thank you to everyone who has left a comment on This Isn’t A Ghost Story, both here and over on AO3. ❤️

--

Extras for Chapter 6: The Future

[flutteringphalanges]

Condemned to Motherhood

Summary: Maze finds herself in a troubling situation when she learns she is expecting. Nowhere in literature has it been said demons make good parents. With the help of her friends, both human and supernatural, can she pull off such a feat? Start the nine month countdown!

Rating: T

Read on AO3 and FFN

A/N: I've gotten requests on Tumblr for Deckerstar babies, Ella and Dan babies, but I think the baby fic writer in me has found a muse in a different character. That's right, Maze, I'm coming for you now. Welcome to parenthood you feisty demon you! There will be ten chapters, one for each month, and a final one as a sort of epilogue. If you like this story and find it interesting, please let me know and I will do my best to do frequent updates!

                           Month One, First Trimester

Cambion. A creature in late European mythology that was said to be the offspring of a human and demon. Except, Maze didn't quite remember which human it was she procreated with. Orgies were irritating in that way. Until now, she never fathomed the idea of being able to conceive. Maybe she should've been more attentive when Amenadiel managed to knock up Linda. But the demon lived on the wild side of life, and such actions were the reason she ended up in her current position.

"I'm not taking that," Maze hissed weakly, wiping her mouth with her wrist after vomiting another bout of back vile. "Go away. It's probably just the plague or something."

"I doubt that," Chloe said, holding out the pregnancy test.

Sometimes the detective could be so aggravating, it took everything within her not to embed one of her knives in her chest. No. No, she'd never do that to her. What was wrong with her? Everything hurt. Mouth burning from stomach acid. It was bitter, sour. Even though she didn't have a soul and would go nowhere if she died, Maze was beginning to wish death would take her.

"Take the test," the detective insisted. "Prove me wrong if that'll get you to take it."

"Fine!" Maze finally snapped, Chloe jumping a little as the demon snatched the pregnancy test from her roommate. "If it'll make you shut up."

Humans and their strange little inventions. She sat on the toilet, lips pulled into a frown as she read the directions. Urine. How truly pleasant. Maze did as the box asked, removing the stick and providing the bodily fluid it required. Now to wait. One. Two. Three minutes. She tapped her foot, almost nervously as she finally found the willpower to look down. Two lines. Positive. Fuck.

"It's broken," she shouted, storming out of the bathroom. She beamed the test at Chloe, the detective jumping out of the way in time. "There is no way that I am pregnant. It's impossible! I told you this was stupid!"

"If you are concerned about accuracy, we can always go to the doctor?" Chloe suggested, using a napkin to pick the test up from the floor.

"Who? Linda?" Maze inquired, narrowing her eyes.

"No, a real doctor-well, one for someone who deals with these kinds of things," the detective said, reaching her phone. "I have a gynecologist myself. Maybe she can make a recommendation."

"No," the demon grumbled. "I'm not going to any doctor. This is all so stupid. I'm staying right here until this...whatever human illness I have is over," her expression darkened. "I'm not going to the hospital."

                                                   XXX

"Congratulations, Ms. Smith, you are in fact pregnant!"

Maze glowered at Chloe as the doctor peered down at his paperwork and then at the demon. Blood tests. First urine, and then blood. She didn't dare think what else they might be able to use from her body to confirm she was pregnant. Chloe rested a hand on Maze's knee and the demon shied away, arms crossed heavily over her chest. This was not happening. This was a mistake.

"You're around five or six weeks, it may be a little too early to hear the heartbeat, but we can still do an ultrasound scan to just take a peek, see how things are looking. Are you interested in that?"

"Yes," Chloe cut in before Maze could decline. "She'd be very interested."

"Wonderful, if you'd lay back for me, we can get started," the doctor smiled, pulling over a piece of equipment that Maze thought looked more like a toture device she'd use in Hell than something to locate a baby. "Now, this might be cold."

The demon stiffened as the doctor lifted up her shirt just enough to expose her abdomen. As he rolled on his stool to adjust the transductor, the detective moved to the demon's side. Maze just stared forward towards the nearby wall. Anger was melting into anxiety and she hated feeling weak.

"Now let's just take a look around," the doctor mumbled, moving the device across Maze's stomach. "And...ah, here we go!"

An unmistakable whooshing sound filled the room. Maze looked over at Chloe, feeling a little horrified. The detective stared back and smiled, taking the demon's hand and squeezing it.

"It's okay," she assured her. "That's just the baby's heartbeat."

"And a strong one too for being so small," the doctor chuckled. "There's the sac, you can look now if you'd like, Ms. Smith."

She didn't want to look. She really didn't want to see. But something within her pulled her gaze over to the monitor. There, sitting in what looked like a tiny bubble, was a strange little blob. Maze frowned, squinting her eyes.

"What is that?"

"Your baby," Chloe exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "It's still very early, they don't exactly look like much right now."

"Is it...okay?" Maze ventured, still unable to decide how she felt about the little parasite growing within her.

"Well, based on your tests, it measures right. The heartbeat sounds good. All and all, I'd say you are on track. Which is good," he replied, noting Maze's still uncertain expression. "I can print you some images for you to take home. People like them as a keepsake."

"I don't think I have much of a choice," the demon said, eyeing Chloe. "Fine. So, I'm done here? I don't have to come back?"

"Oh of course you do!" The doctor exclaimed, looking a bit alarmed. "We need to track your progress and make sure you and the baby are healthy. If you go up front, they can schedule your next appointment. It'll be in a few weeks. You'd be surprised how much development occurs between now and then."

"Great," Maze muttered, hoping off the cot. She snatched the pictures from the man and handed them to Chloe. "I'll be going now. Come on, Chloe."

"Congratulations again," the doctor waved. "See you in a few weeks!"

The detective made the next appointment, Maze choosing to lean against the wall uninterested. How could see have been so stupid? Pregnant? A baby? Those words sounded so wrong. So foreign. When they made their way back into the car, the demon grabbed Chloe's arm before the other woman could start the engine.

"No one can know about this," she growled.

"You're going to have to tell people eventually," Chloe commented. "You can't hide this forever."

"Well, I will as long as I can," she muttered. "And for your sake, I'd keep my mouth quiet. I have hormones, I can't exactly predict my behavior. Or control it."

"And you have no idea who the father is?" Maze flinched at her words. "Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"I don't know and I don't care," the demon mumbled. "Look, I just want to go home and forget about this. Have a drink and…"

"You can't drink," the detective said firmly. "Not while you're pregnant."

Maze froze, her eyes growing wide. "Excuse me," her tone was low, frightening. "What do you mean I can't drink?!"

"It's bad for the baby," Chloe said, finally pulling out of the parking lot. "Don't worry, it'll be easier than it sounds."

The demon stared out the window, her head pounding from the overwhelming aspect of it all. Pregnant. Unable to drink. Motherhood. God smite her where she stood-or sat for that matter. The only interaction she ever had with kids were with Trixie and Charlie. Now she was being forced to have her own. What else could go wrong?

Lots.

[royal-despair]

​You watch the scene pass by you. A once daunting sunset is now a beautiful sunrise. ​The ship passes above you, feeling almost like a huge whale in the sky.. ​The pods start to rumble, struggling to find a good landing spot. ​It gives a warning, saying something along the lines of "Potentially rough landing imminent. Please tighten your safety buckles. ​The pods land, and thankfully everything was safe. And everyone was together. ​You all exit the pods, and stare off. ​The ship is the only thing blocking your view.

Sketches and color done by @allyssinian​, lineart by @talentlessartblog​ Epilogue illustration (final image) done by qosic on tumblr and twitter x x

Final words written by their muns; @guitarasaurus-rex​ , @shslchemicalx​, @lucitous​, @jullya-senpai​, @tsoi-sauce​

T a k u m a   M i t s u k u r i

“Y-you're the only thing r-really keeping me going..."

"I... I don't want... I can't lose you... I-I love you... Please don't leave me alone..."

Tears stained his face. His stomach contorted violently, twisting and turning, anxiety flooding his being. Was this the end? Was it a new beginning? It didn’t matter to him. Not now. In time, maybe. But now? Now all he felt was despair, sadness… anger…

He’d need time. Time to recover, time to compose himself, time to… move on? could he move on? Would he ever? He didn’t know. He wouldn’t know for a while.

...Chiyo dedicated her life to saving this earth… this broken, distorted earth… Broken and distorted… just like him… He wouldn’t recover quickly, and it was almost certain the wounds he’d received would never fully heal… but… when the pain eased… he would do everything he could to realize her dream. He couldn’t let her efforts be for nought. He’d fix this broken planet, piece by piece… And when it was all over? He’d maintain it... do his best to bring peace to everyone… And then he’d see Chiyo again… He’d tell her he loved her… And they could be together.

All that would come… He’d make sure it did… But, for now, he just grieved.

D m i t r i   C i e r z o n 

"...." Everyone was being emotionally wrecked, and here he was, not emotionally wrecked. He really was different, it seemed. Even though everything was both a lie and a truth.

How.... Strange.

He walked over to Leon, sliding his hand into the Dollmaker's own. Calluses... Not from fighting, it seemed. But these were the same hands that had supported him on the ship, even though he had lied again and again, and made questionable decisions one after another.

... This, at least, was real. Even if he couldn't trust anything else, he could trust at least this -- them.

L e o n h a r d   V o g e l

Leon blinks and glances down to see Dmitri holding his hand in his, staring out at the wreckage from where they had been mere minutes ago. He parts his lips to say something, though he can't find the words. He had trusted Dmitri, trusted his judgement, and it had all worked out. Maybe not as smoothly as they had all hoped, but they're here. They're here and alive.

With no words to say, his lips slide shut along with his eyelashes. He presses a kiss to his forehead. Hopefully that will express his feelings well enough. He had always found it strange how emotions could be expressed so easily for him through touch. He wanted to convey his affection, his relief, but most of all? His hope for the future.

The end of one story is the beginning of another, and he sincerely hopes they can turn this bittersweet moment into something beautiful. After a few moments, he pulls away and turns his head to look back at the horizon. Not at the airship, but beyond. To the trees and skyline, the chittering birds overhead. It would be up to them to maintain this beautiful world, and he can't say he's too ready for it, unknowing of what that may entail , but he finds himself eager to begin.

R u n a   K n i g h t l y

‘What do we do now?’

"..." Runa... leans her head on Seojun's shoulder, she watches the light of the sun through the filter of the smoke. "...Who's to say... maybe find other people, rehabilitate back into the world's current society... I just," She lifts her head, "I just want to stay close to everyone for the time being..."

J o s e f i n a   D e   B e l a s c o 

Fina stared at the scene in front of her. It was all so intense. So surreal. They made it out. All the people they lost. All the truths they gained. It all came to her in a wave of emotions. So much was going through her head right now. She sat down on the ground and let out a long sigh. "Oh fuck... We actually did it. We made it."

S e o j u n   T s o i

Fifty days.  They were trapped for fifty days on the airship known as the Queen Rose, with the conditions of being involved in a horrendous killing game.  Blood, sweat, and tears were shed almost every single day.  There was an atrocious amount of despondency throughout the entire “trip” they had gone through together.  As the blaring alarms were ringing in his head even now, Seojun found himself recollecting everything that had happened for him.  Not just in those fifty days, no.  What happened overall in the seventy six days that he had been trapped in his two killing games. What had happened in the past two and a half months for him was an absolute nightmare.

Day one. He woke up in the anteroom with seventeen students other than himself, and he found himself forced into a killing game under the treacherous duo of Gekumi and Torimi.  From the first week in, he found something that was quite odd:  Gekumi seemed to take more of the hate, but Torimi seemed to take more of the power instead.  It was something that the supposed Internet Troll had found to be quite the oddity.  Weren’t they working together?  He didn’t say anything about it, however.  He had to keep himself together.  He had to. Everyone around him was panicking like wild animals, so he couldn’t be seen doing the same.  He had to be that one guiding light to everyone.

Day six. That’s when he witnessed his first execution.  Karou was torn apart viciously, and Seojun had to see their demise firsthand.  It was absolutely dreadful, but he had to keep going.  And so, he did.  The second murder passed, as did the second execution.  He would soon find out about his loved ones being captive, about Ae-Joung being captive.  Seojun initially freaked out; he had freaked out when he saw his “sister” inside those bondages of rope, and the blindfold over her eyes.  She was scared of the dark, and in a way, so was he.  He was afraid of the darkness surrounding him, but he had to stay strong, and keep smiling.  He had to be that one guiding light to Ayaka.

Ayaka.

”C’mon, Junie!  Think positive.  Things are going to be okay, alright?  Trust me, I promise.”

She seemed to be just like his sister.  His sister, who had saved his life from his own hands.  The sixteen year old girl wasn’t one he fell in love with, but she was someone that he had grown to wanting to protect.  He had wanted to protect her, because someone just like her had done the same for him.  At least, that’s what he remembered.  The girl was innocent, and he wanted to protect someone that felt like a sister to him.  She was so, so devastated when Karou died.  When Karou was the one who had taken the knife, and stabbed Varian in the back.  She was so devastated, and the girl with the round glasses had went to Seojun for comfort.  Seojun ended up doing the worst thing imaginable though, and he witnessed Antonio killing another poor, innocent girl named Hitomi Kurusaki.  Instead of dying himself, he took it upon his own hands to strike...and he killed the man.

Day twenty six.  That’s when the trial of Antonio de Sabatini and Hitomi Kurusaki occured.  That’s when everyone managed to pin it on Raphael Bernard, the Super High School Level Archer.  That’s when everyone managed to get it wrong, and vote for the wrong person.  That’s when Seojun Tsoi had managed to get away with murder, much to his dismay.  He...He didn’t want to see Ayaka with that look of betrayal on her face.  He didn’t want to see her getting executed horrifically, but here he was, forced to watch all of his shipmates die in gruesome, grotesque fashions.  The sickly green gecko bot was controlled by someone amongst his rankings, but because he had killed another person, Seojun would never know who went through the same fate that he had gone through. He’d never know who the second mastermind really was.

Day twenty seven.  That’s when he woke up in the anteroom for a second time, much to his dismay.  This time, there were eighteen others around him.  Eigteen people who didn’t know what the hell was going on, or why they were here.  Seojun knew, though - he knew exactly why they were here, and he knew exactly why he was here.  He was here to scounge out for the mastermind, who was amongst all of them.  One of these eighteen students was the mastermind behind his own killing game, and it was his mission to find out who it was.  However, as he went along, things steered into different directions. There was the day where he made his friendship with Leon a thing.  There was the day where he roasted Manobu alongside Dmitri, with Raiden at their side too.  There was the day where he promised to keep Izaya safe, there was the day where he decided to help Cici feel like the princess she always wanted to be.  There was the day of theTruth or Dare game.  There was the day of the King’s Game.  There was the day where he fell in love with Runa Knightly.  Every day made up this path; every day led up to this moment.

Then, they reached to today.  Day seventy six.  The day where they discovered who Sanae Oshiro’s daughter, and heiress of the company behind the purifying machines really was.  The day where they found out that Chiyo Oshiro was the mastermind and first degree murderer of tens, hell, hundreds of people.  Maybe even thousands, if you count those outside of killing games.  This was the day where they achieved something that she despised, that the rest of the world didn’t see could happen.  This was the day where they would restore a concept to planet Earth as they knew it.  As Seojun turned to the five before him, he found himself embracing the tears that were streaking down his cheeks, and looking onto everyone before him. 

Josefina de Belasco.  The tallest person on the ship, but regardless, she was simply a gentle giant that had hopes for the future.  She was innocent, but not pure-hearted either.  She was timid at times as well, and even more so humbling, but nevertheless, she never backed down in her beliefs.  She put her heart into everything she did, and only wanted the best for everyone else.

Takuma Mitsukuri.  A man who was in shambles, broken down, and beaten with despair.  A man who made himself out to be someone that was slightly confident, but more or less snarky.  A man that was more than meets the eye.  Seojun knew he didn’t get along with him at first, but as they were trapped with each other for quite a few days, he had grown to see that he was almost like him, in a way.  He wanted to protect, and he wanted to feel validated by those around him.

Dmitri Cierzon.  Cool, mysterious, aloof at times even.  Hardly did he ever see the man lash out at anyone around him with a raised voice.  Sure, he may have stabbed a man, but he believed it was for the better, with morals or not.  He was blunt, but he was honest.  He was an honest man, and even then, he was underestimated.  Pastry Chef, Spy...whatever he may have been by now, he was still Dmitri.  A boy who loved headpats, sweets, and kicking ass.

Leonhard Vogel. He stepped up to the plate when no one else would.  He spoke up when everyone else stayed silent.  He did his best to protect everyone around him, despite his conditions, despite his mental state.  He put a lot of people before his own needs, and he just wanted to make everyone happy.  He was a damaged man, but he was not broken, and Seojun knew that this man could heal with time, with people by his side.  He would consider him to be one of his closest friends.

Then, there was Runa Knightly.  She was his sunshine, as he was her Hairpins.  If there was one promise he was able to keep, it’s that he was able to protect her.  He was able to protect her, throughout all of this madness and despair.  He was able to protect this beautiful girl, someone who wasn’t perfect, but still magnificent in her own ways.  She wants to improve on herself.  She is determined, and doesn’t give up, no matter what the price may pay for her.  The blonde truly loved this woman, inside and out.

Seojun Tsoi faced everyone once again, and silently, a smile came to his lips.  “...Regardless...we did it, huh?  We...made it out.”  He looks overhead, to meet his gaze with the bright and radiant sun shining over the horizon.  “...We’re...going to start a changing process.  This isn’t...the end, that I can tell.  This is only the beginning of something new.  A new future, not just for us...for us all.  We’re finally going to have it.  We’re going to unlock something that should’ve been given a long, long time ago.”  As the blonde took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, he found the word that he had wished to utter for so long.  They finally have it now.

“Freedom.”

[forgottenfairylights]

Atmosphere-

INTRO---There is a point in everyone’s lives in which we all begin to question our existence. I do not mean to necessarily suggest we are all sick masochistic beings. I don’t even intend for this statement to be presumed in a self-destructive sense. Though the point I desire to illustrate is profound enough to relate to death, in doing so I will create a sick, unintended irony, so no, I will not relate this matter to death. It would be entirely too inconsequential. In the current context perhaps this can be best explained as an unsettling lack of assurance in the validity of our existence within the universe. Who are we but mere humans More applicable to the circumstances, who am I, Just like every other, average, boilerplate youth, I too had my doubts.

Chapter One--- During the second year of my primary school education we learned about the first Calefaction Flash. We learned that it happened 83 years ago, and that global pollution led to a chemical reaction in the atmosphere. Scientists said that it created a new element called Qaui. We couldn’t fight it chemically yet because they didn’t understand all of its properties. We were also taught that the sky rained lightning and over a million volts of electricity killed 4,000 people in Beijing, China and led to the beginning of the international panic. But most importantly, they told us that we had to keep fighting the Flashes or everyone would die, and it was completely imperative to human survival that we understand the importance of our task. After all, we couldn’t let fear cripple us and paralyze our ability to make decisions that could save lives and enjoy ours. I still remember the overwhelming feelings I had that day. I remember that they didn’t go away until long after our innocent eight year old minds were filled with terror and I cried myself to sleep for nine nights afterwards. From that point on they ingrained our duty into our brains. It became a part of who were were, defining us as the new generation-The Counteractant. First we learned that fear would be the defining factor of whether or not we survived, and then we started training. As the days progressed the Flashes continued to occur, seemingly randomly every few weeks, but now we understood, and what had always seemed so trivial before became our living nightmare. When we were ten, only two short years later, The planet is quickly morphing into a tundra of ice and snow- everything is frozen. our skills were analyzed and after fifteen days we were shipped to various private schools to be trained in the art of survival in the field and taught all of the best evacuation techniques and routes. As well as optimum study and refinement all of our most adequate and advantageous skills outside of the field, in order to help the cause. We became the newest generation of soldiers, fighting to end the devastation, burdened with the task of protecting those who could not defend themselves against the Flashes. Above all else, we learned how to examine the lightning from safe houses, studying for patterns and clues. I was sent to Spruce-Reign Academy for those best suited with field work, rather than the scientific aspect. This was where I spent four years preparing myself for the day when I would be numbered in the ranks of The Counteractant. I was one of thousands, fighting to free humanity from the Flashes, but though I did my best, I wasn’t ready, so I threw myself back into the work to escape from stone walls coated in far too many layers of ugly gray-green rubber paint, and their near-toxic scent. I was 14 when Joel Parlin-intellectual prodigy of his year, which was three above mine-created the Frost Fester-X-30u7 Syrum Breeze, and everything changed.

Chapter Two--- It was the cure the world had been waiting for. News Anchors from San Francisco, USA to Sydney, Australia and everywhere inbetween raved about it for weeks. Headlines boasted odd, catchy statements like, “Could This Be It? Our Salvation?” and “The Antigen We’ve All Been Waiting For!” It was the perfect solution to the gargantuan problems global warming had created, and until the day it poisoned our atmosphere that’s exactly how we treated it, like God. I won’t lie, we all bought it like fools, swallowing the idea that our problems were all about to end like a fish swallows bait-hook, line, and sinker. We were wrong. The planet is quickly morphing into a tundra of ice and snow- everything is frozen. I don’t blame humanity for what happened. The Calefaction Flashes were devastating. No, I don’t blame people for having hope. I don’t even blame Joel Parlin for the fact that he inadvertently killed 7 billion of Earth’s inhabitants. I know only that I am one of the estimated 7 Million people still surviving, for now. At this point, with the ice constantly beating down around me, blaming anyone would be fruitless. The last time human interaction was held ensued before I split off from the group to scavenge for food and got caught in a storm on my way back to our camp.I know now is not the time for wishful thinking, yet still I wish. I wish we could return to the Flashes, they seem so small compared to the acid sleet that melts everything around it as it freezes. I don’t know what day it is, or how long I have been trapped in this cave, only that my time is running out. I am waiting now, counting every second for it’s infinite worth. I do not want to die, but I feel death slowly creeping in as my body shuts down and I know that it is my time. Perhaps, somehow, against astronomical odds, humanity can survive this. What a shame it would be if the earth lay waste to become a lonely sphere of ice and snow orbiting the sun. Perhaps it would be beautiful though. Some people say that life is about survival of the fittest, and maybe thats true, but I think perhaps the fittest also have a bit of luck. I am certainly not the strongest compared to many of the billions which have already passed. This is it, this is my life and how I will spend the end of it, and I know now all that I need to. I know that I am a fighter, a defender of the helpless, and I am a student. If this is all I have to show for my life and legacy, then I die at peace knowing that maybe the world just isn’t meant to be anymore. And then everythings fades to black and I am floating away, and its a beautiful sensation.

Epilogue--- The first thing I notice is how hard my is head pounding, I imagine similarly to if I’d be clocked in the face with a brick. I try to open my eyes and they feel like they are being scalded, leaving me dazed and temporarily blinded by the unexpected light. Where am I? What am I doing here? I thought heaven was supposed to be warm and peaceful, but maybe it isn’t. Am I dead? There’s only one way to find out. “Hello, is anyone here?” Footsteps surround me instantly and I open my eyes again to white walls and a smiling woman in non-descript grey scrubs. “Hello miss, I can’t believe it! You’re finally awake!” “Where am I?” I ask. “You’re here at Sage University Hospital, you’ve been in a coma for eight months-it’s nice to finally meet you.” I can feel my eyes widening, that can’t be true. The things I have lived through cannot have been a dream, they couldn’t! And eight month? Try six years! Nothing makes sense! “I don’t believe you,” I say. “What year is it?” “It’s 2189 Sweetheart.” Everything around me just adds to my confusion. It isn’t 2189, it’s 2183. “Who am I, where is my family, how old am I.” I don’t understand it, but I don’t know anything. It’s a terrifying phenomenon, and I feel utterly vulnerably. I need something from reality to grasp onto, but accepting it will be the hardest step. “I’ll call your family right up. They will be ecstatic to see you.” “Wait! Who am I? Why am I here?” I ask again, starting to panic. “Calm down miss. Your name is Cal Toak, you’re seventeen and you were lifeflighted here after they dug your body out of an avalanche.” Everything makes sense, but I don’t want it to. Please let this be fake, I think frantically, please don’t let this be real. How do you just live a normal life after all I had experienced? I don’t say anything else, and neither does she. After a moment she leaves me alone to my thoughts. Why can’t I remember anything.?! I notice a clock above the door, it’s 5:49 AM, still early, so, I go back to my thoughts. They are interrupted several minutes later as the hall is erupts with noise. People peek in at me and suddenly everyone around me is crying and calling me sweetie and telling me that it will all be okay while they smother me in hugs. I don’t understand it and I don’t remember them, but its obvious they need this more than I do, so I hug them back, telling them it’s nice to see them and I would okay. Finally everyone but a man and his wife clear out. They look at me expectantly, like there is something they just know I’ll say, but I don’t. I don’t know what it is. “Excuse me,” I say, “I’m terribly sorry, but is there something I can do for you?” The woman begins to cry and I stare at her blankly wondering what I possibly could have done to offend her. “She doesn’t remember Allan.” The woman sobs even harder and her husband continues to try and comfort her. “It will be okay sweetheart, it’ll all be okay. Just give it some time.” “Is there something I can do to help?” I ask again. When he looks at me his eyes are full of sadness but all he says is, “Get well soon. get well soon and try to remember.” I nod, I will do my best to help these people, it’s all i’ve been taught to do since that fateful day when I was eight. The day that everyone is telling me never happened, but I don’t believe them. I never will.