#it's so peaceful during the day and then the sun sets and the fog rolls in....

[waitineedaname]

i just started dredge and holy shit im obsessed already

[clarkeyshill]

three peaks challenge

arthur hill x fem reader

summary: you’re a production member for chris and stay back with arthur during the three peaks challenge.

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Being a part of Chris' production was typically really fun for you, I mean you got to spend hours at a time with your friends just laughing and making jokes the entire day. It was good, until you’re forced to hike the three tallest mountains in the UK within 24 hours.

You stood with the boys checking the settings on the camera as everyone took a drink and food break. You shifted your weight onto your left leg stumbling back slightly into Arthur Hill, “Shit, sorry.” You muttered, as his hand caught your waist from his seated position.

“Careful.” He laughed, making your cheeks burn at the feeling of his hand on the bare skin of your hip. He shifted over on the rock tapping the space next him which you accepted gratefully.

You placed the camera on your lap as you tilted your head back letting out a exhausted huff. You reached into your backpack pulling out your water bottle gulping it down quickly not noticing Arthur’s fixed gaze on you.

Chris’ laugh echoed through the mountain making your head turn to him noticing he was already looking back at you, “what?”

He shook his head, “nothing, nothing.”

You rolled your eyes slumping your shoulders, “who let me agree to do this?” You groaned, “I hate that short man.”

Arthur laughed at your angered tone, “don’t we both.”

You laid your head on your hand looking up at Arthur with an amused smile, “At least we can be haters together.”

“Ain’t that true.”

George patted Arthur’s back, “Stop flirting you two, we have a mountain to hike.” He teased making Arthur turn redder than he already was and you pressed record on the camera pointing it towards the boys as they started their ascent.

“Oh no,” you gasped, looking down at the camera in your hands that now had lines across the screen, “Chris?” You called out for your longtime friend and boss.

He whipped his head around looking at your concerned face, “What’s wrong?” He asked, almost panicked as he made his way down to you and Arthur stopped slightly ahead of you both watching the scene.

“The camera’s not working.” You told him, showing him the screen, “I don’t know what happened, it was literally fine a minute ago.”

Chris shook his head noticing the way your voice shook as you tried to explain it, “Hey, hey its okay. It’s probably just overworked, its one of the older cameras anyways.”

You nodded fighting back your tears that were threatening to fall, “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“Don’t apologise.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around your shoulders pulling you into a comforting hug, “lets finish this mountain yeah?”

You nodded turning off the camera completely taking in a deep breath before continuing on up the peak.

Once you reached Arthur, who has waited for you, he offered you a smile which you returned, “Everything okay?”

“The cameras fucked.” You told him and he hummed, “so now I’m just being paid to climb three mountains.”

“At least your getting paid to do this shit.”

You let out a laugh making Arthur’s eyes soften as he looked down at you. His eyes flicker over your appearance and the way you were practically glowing with the sun behind you.

In the distance, George and Chris were not so subtly watching the pair of you as you interacted. Noting the brushes of hands and the lingering eye contact, or the longing stares when the other wasn’t looking.

Finally, you had reached the top of the first peak. You stood at the edge of the cliff, admiring the fogged view that was quite underwhelming but you felt calm.

“It’s so peaceful up here.” You said, turning back to the boys, who all hummed in agreement as they took in the moment.

You glanced over at Arthur Hill, who was looking down at his phone with a soft smile dancing over his lips and you frowned slightly.

“Let’s get going guys!” You called out, ready to make the descent back to the van.

Chris furrowed his eyebrows watching as you quickly scattered away. He glanced over at George and ArthurTV, who both shrugged, before looking at Arthur Hill, who was just watching the girl walk off.

“Let’s go before she gets herself killed, yeah?” Harry stated and the boys nodded, following after you.

“Everything okay?” Chris asked as you both hung back from the group, who stupidly followed Harry who lead them away from the path.

You nodded wrapping your arms around yourself plastering on a smile, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

You and Chris had known each other for years due to being close with his sister when you were growing up which lead to you becoming like a second sister to him. This tended to mean that he knew you better than most other people and could pick all of your tell tale signs instantly.

“I don’t even know.” You shook your head, “it’s so unbelievably stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid.” He reassured you helping you down an uneasy path.

“I think I like Arthur,” you admitted, and Chris bit back his knowing smile, “And it’s stupid because I think he only sees me as a friend, and that’s fine but I feel dumb.”

Chris placed his hand on your shoulder rubbing it gently, “I can 100% tell you right now, you aren’t dumb. And I think you’ll be surprised at what Arthur would say if you told him.”

“Yeah?”

Chris nodded, “Yeah.”

Everyone clambered into the two minibuses, you climbed into the second one taking the window seat at the back. Once you had gotten comfy, Arthur Hill climbed in next to you giving you a smile making your breath catch in your throat.

“You okay?” He muttered, offering you the water that he was holding which you accepted gratefully as he situated himself in the seat next to you.

You nodded slightly handing the bottle back to him, “Just a little tired thats all.”

In response to that, Arthur slouched down in his seat shrugging his shoulder for you to lean on which you blushed at, internally thanking that it was dark outside.

You laid your head on his shoulder and he laid his head onto of yours. Your eyes slowly started to become heavy before you drifted off into uninterrupted sleep.

You stood with a unimpressed expression on your face with a hoodie draped over your form, practically engulfing your frame.

Arthur stood beside you with the same expression, “This man is about to lock in.” Chris said to the camera as he pointed at Arthur Hill.

“Better come back since,” He tried to retort before giving up with a shake of his head, “Fuck.” He grumbled making George and Chris chuckle softly.

“Oh, hasn’t started well.”

You moved next to Arthur leaning your head on his arm as you all waited for everything to be set up. You could barely keep your eyes open at this point living off of a minimum of 5 hours of sleep.

“I’m so tired.” You grumbled, looking over at Chris with a glare making him put his arms up in surrender, “this is your fault, hobbit boy.”

George cackled at your words clapping his hands as he did so.

“Shit.” Arthur muttered, from beside you shaking his leg slightly making you look up at him in concern.

You’re eyebrows knitted together as you placed your hand on his bicep, “What’s wrong?” You asked, “Do you wanna take a rest?”

Arthur huffed nodding limping over to the grass and you followed after him calling for Chris as you did so. You sat on the rock next to Arthur, who was putting all his stuff on the ground next to you.

“Do you wanna update the viewers on whats going on?” Chris asked making his way to the pair.

Arthur stood up straight, “it’s been a really embarrassing day for me. I thought my injury would be fine, it seems have cramped up a substantial amount.” He explained, looking over at Chris, who had a slight amused smirk on his face.

“I’m gonna pretend like I’m in a lord of the rings fairy tale and lie here, maybe die.” Arthur joked making you giggle and the camera panned down at you and so did Chris attention.

“And whats your reason for not doing this one?”

You tapped your chin in feigned wonder, “I don’t wanna spend more time with you.”

Arthur chuckled sitting on the ground in front of you and Chris let out a laugh placing his hand on his chest pretending to be hurt by your words.

“Well, have fun you two but not to much fun yeah.”

Arthur laid on the grass scrolling through his phone as you sat next to him with your back against the rock behind you and your feet draped over Arthurs lap.

Your head was against the rock with Arthur’s hoodie being used as a pillow as you watched the clouds float by, “that cloud looks like an elephant.” You said, bringing Arthur’s attention from his phone up to the sky.

A hum left his lips as he tilted his head slightly, “oh yeah.” He agreed dropping his phone to his chest and his hands along with it.

You glanced over at him, your eyes flickering across his face, “Arthur?”

“Yeah?” He replied, propping himself up on his elbows to face you.

You opened your mouth to say something but shook your head, “Nevermind, it’s not that important actually.”

The singer frowned sitting up fully placing his hands on your knees to pull you closer to him taking you by surprise, “Tell me.”

“It’s silly,” you whispered, refusing to tear your gaze from the ground as you picked at the grass around you.

Arthur lifted your chin pinching it softly between his thumb and pointer finger, “what’s wrong?”

“Would you ever maybe wanna go on a date sometime?” You blurted out trying to hide your flustered face as you buried it in your hands.

A bright smile broke out across Arthurs face at the question, “Shit, I wanted to ask you first.” He laughed, moving your hands from your face, “I’d happily go on a date with you.

yourusername

liked by arthurnfhill, chrismd10 and 35,976 others

yourusername got forced to hike a sodding mountain

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userone THAT PHOTO OF YOU AND ARTHUR !!!

*liked by yourusername*

usertwo arthury/n nation rise 🫡

arthurnfhill we actually hiked all 3 mountains btw, chris is just intimidated by us

➝ yourusername ain’t that the truth

arthurtv not that photo oh my god 😂

userthree we need more y/n content !!

➝ userone please i agree

chrismd10 i can still hear you whiny voice complaining

➝ yourusername obsessed much 🙄

[itsallyscorner]

Ooo I finally got a Tom request for you! This one’s more fluff since you’ve already written a smut so~

Tom stumbles into a library and falls for reader that works there and tries passing off as a regular guy just so he can watch her from afar whether it’s cataloging books or reading to kids.(libraries were the original bookstores so they’re superior)

I’ve seen you’ve read my smut for Tommy! It’s one of my favorite ones that I’ve written😏Thank you love for the support and request, I appreciate it! Happy reading❤️

💌.

Sequel: Through Your Words

From Afar

warnings: none. Some spelling errors?

(Gif from Pinterest)

(I love him sm, ugh. He’s so cute in glasses🥺)

The brisk winds of New York City blew harshly against his cheeks as he walked towards the book store. The faster he walked the closer he saw the book shaped sign and baby blue store front that he had been visiting for the past few weeks. When he approached the door, he took his hand out from his warm pocket and pulled it open. He felt a wave of hot air embrace him as he entered the store. The sudden change in temperature caused his glasses to fog up, obscuring his vision. He didn’t actually need the glasses, but it helped him get around the city without being noticed every few minutes.

He wiped his glasses with his sleeves and slid them back to rest on the bridge of his nose. He took in the warmth of the cozy book store, sniffling as his body adjusted to the heat. He had stumbled upon the unique store when he first came to New York. It had been snowing when he first arrived and he was looking for a place to get some nice hot coffee. There wasn’t a single Starbucks near his hotel and the closest thing to coffee was a small cafe just a few blocks away from him. He ended up visiting the cafe, later discovering that it had a library hidden in the back. After days of hanging out at the cafe and reading some books, he had become familiar with the staff there. Especially you. Although he’s never spoken a word to you. Instead he’s only seen you from afar, exchanging glances and shy smiles at each other.

He approached the counter and was greeted by Marco, the barista of the cafe/library.

“Hey man, you gettin’ your usual?” Marco asked as he reached for one of the festive cups near the register. Tom pursed his lips as he looked at the menu.

“D’ya know what, I think I’ll have a hot chocolate today.” Tom smiled as he took his wallet out. Marco nodded and scribbled the order onto the cup.

“Anything else?” Tom shook his head and handed Marco a $10 bill. He shoved his wallet back into his pocket, scanning the store for a place to sit.

“Keep the change, mate.” Tom told Marco waving a hand at him.

“I’ll bring your drink to you.” Tom nodded thankfully and found a table towards the back. The smell of books brought him peace and comfort as the low hum of music surrounded the store. He took a seat debating on whether or not he should go through the library or read his script. He decided to read the script, remembering that he should go over his lines for the scenes they were going to shoot tomorrow.

Pulling the script out his backpack, a smell of vanilla and a hint of fruit breezed past him. He looked up to see that you had walked past him. A small smile made its way onto his lips as he watched you interact with some of the customers. Your bright eyes were accompanied with a kind smile as you conversed with an older lady. You were dressed in a knitted sweater, some jeans, and brown boots that went up to your knees. You settled into the seat across from the old lady which was a few feet away from him. You were wearing something so simple, but he thought you looked absolutely stunning. Tom found himself being more focused on you than his script.

Suddenly a steaming cup was placed down on the table, startling him. He looked up to see Marco smirking at him as he followed his line of sight. Tom quietly thanked him as his hands gripped onto the warm cup.

“Ya know, she’s single.” Marco whispered before walking away from Tom’s table. Tom blushed furiously as Marco turned back to him with a shit eating grin. He’s been caught staring at you. Tom rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment as he forced his focus onto his script. He barely looked up, only looking at his script and cup.

An hour had passed and he was halfway through his lines. His cup was almost empty, only a few sips of hot chocolate left. Tom sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing his tired eyes. He put the glasses back on and looked around. Outside, the sun had started to go down and there were different people in the store. He suddenly heard a laugh, a sweet sound, like a melody. His eyes followed the sound, only to see you laughing with one of your coworkers. The two of you were organizing books at the back. Your eyes averted from your friend, connecting with Tom’s brown eyes. A strand of hair fell from your face and Tom couldn’t help but feel tempted to tuck it back behind your ear. You shyly smiled at him with a small nod towards his direction. Tom felt the butterflies erupt in his stomach, making him feel breathless. He smiled back at you, his fingers fiddling with the highlighter in his hands. You were the first to turn away, returning to your task at hand.

At that moment, Tom felt pity for himself. You were just a few feet away from him looking as beautiful as ever. But there he was glued to his seat, only admiring you from afar. He was too scared to approach you, you just seemed too good to be true. His leg bounced nervously as he continued to sneak glances at you. His script was long forgotten, the hot chocolate now cold. He wanted to approach you but he was too nervous to go up to you. Suddenly an idea popped into his head.

Tom looked around, trying to discreetly wave down Marco. The man was busy wiping down the counters until he saw Tom flailing his hand at him. He threw the rag into the sink and approached the British man.

“What’s up? Refill? Or have you finally mustered the balls to ask (y/n) out?” Marco questioned him nonchalantly. Tom’s head snapped at the barista.

“H-how? Wait, her name’s (y/n)?” Tom’s voice trailed off as he paired the name with your face. (Y/n). The named rolled off his tongue so naturally.

“Yeah. How can I help you?”

Tom leaned in closer to Marco keeping his tone low, “Has she been reading any books lately? Like anything in the library?”

Marco took a minute to think to himself, “Ummm, she mentioned something about rereading The Great Gatsby.”

“Great, uhm. Where can I find that?” Tom asked eagerly.

Marco waved him off and patted his shoulder, “I’ll get it for you.”

Marco returned a few minutes later with the book. The book was aged but still in good condition.

Curiously, Marco asked, “What are you gonna do?”

Pulling out post it notes from his bag and a pen, he opened the book to the first page.

“I’m going to leave a note for her.” He muttered, “For (y/n), I mean.” He quickly elaborated to Marco.

He stuck the post it note to the page and thought of something to write.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it. If you want, I could give it to her. Just hand it to me when you leave.” Marco offered beginning to walk back to the counter.

“That would be great, thanks man.” Tom sent him a grateful smile and looked down at the book. He racked his brain for something nice to say that would set a good impression on you, but instead he went with the first thing he thought when he would see you.

“I think you look very beautiful today :) — Tom xx” were the words he scribbled onto the post it note. He closed the book, looking down at it nervously. Would you think the note was creepy? Would you cringe? Maybe you would appreciate it? Would you find it cute? Many questions formed in his head making him second guess his decision of leaving the note for you. But then he finally mustered the courage to just give it to you and hope for the best.

Packing his things, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and threw his cup away. He quickly looked around and saw you standing on a ladder. You were still sorting books, but now your hair was pulled up into a ponytail. With one more glance at you he took the book and approached Marco.

Marco looked at him expectantly. Tom double checked to see if the note was still in the book.

“You good?”

“Yup, I think I am.” Tom sighed finally giving the book to Marco.

“I’ll give it to her as soon as she’s done over there.” Marco motioned to you placing the book in his large apron pocket.

“Thanks, Marco. I appreciate it.” Tom smiled at him. Marco shrugged as if it were no big deal.

“No problem man, you have a good night.” Marco waved at Tom as his hands pushed on the door. Tom was about to leave but heard Marco call out to him again.

“I better be seeing you tomorrow. She’ll read the note by then.” Marco pointed at him.

“I’ll be here.” Tom confirmed before leaving the store with one more wave at Marco.

As he walked through the blanket of snow a smile was on his face the entire time. When he got back to his hotel, he laid in bed wondering if you have read the note already. He found himself anticipating the upcoming day. He couldn’t wait to visit the cafe after set or during his lunch. Maybe by tomorrow he’ll stop admiring you from afar and finally talk to you, who knows?

[beewolfwrites]

The Oar in the Sand - Chapter Two: The First Day of Nostos

And the second chapter is here! I feel evil for writing this, buuutt we need drama. And plot. 

For those who are new to the AIB fandom, this is the sequel to my other Chishiya x OC/Reader fic - you can find the first one, and the Chishiya pov side series, either on AO3 or on my Tumblr. 

I’ll keep this short and sweet, and leave the AO3 link to this chapter here. 

And the link to my AO3 profile where you’ll find the other fics is here.  

As always, thanks for reading! Your support means the world :D

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Daylight spilled through the window onto the empty side of the bed. It wasn’t unusual for Chishiya to wake up before me, although usually in my dreaming I would feel the dip of the mattress as he left. I must’ve been in such a deep sleep that I hadn’t noticed. But that’s okay. I needed all the rest I could get.

Rubbing my eyes, I stretched out a hand to feel the sheets. They were still warm, as was the light that enveloped my fingers in its glow. It would have been peaceful morning, here in the sun and the cosy sheets, if not for the budding anticipation within me.

Noon.

That’s when it all starts.

Kicking back the covers, I forced myself to get up and dressed. No matter how much I wanted to laze around, there was no telling what would happen, and so I chose more comfortable, practical clothes – cropped cargo pants, with a t-shirt and hoodie. It was only when I headed down the creaky stairs into the overwhelming silence of the living room, that Chishiya’s absence became even more apparent.

If he wasn’t down here, that left only one place he could be.

Is he aware of how predictable he is?

Emptying a bottle of water into a pan, I lit up the camping stove, watching as the water slowly frothed into simmer before bubbling away. Then spooning some instant coffee into two small mugs, I poured some of the water into each. It wasn’t great, but it was the closest thing to a real cup of coffee we could get in this world. Carefully carrying the two mugs, I stepped outside, and immediately squinted under the sun’s glare.

If it’s this high in the sky, there can’t be much longer now.

Just around the side of the store was a fire escape ladder. I had practiced this a few times, holding both mug handles in one hand, as I shakily clambered up to the roof. I only spilled a couple of drops, but it was nothing compared to the first time I tried to do this. Moving slowly, I slid onto the rooftop.

And there he was.

Lounging near the edge, one knee bent up, Chishiya was staring out at the cityscape. The first thing I noticed when I sat beside him was the mug in his hand. And once again, I felt like an idiot.

‘You already made coffee?’ I set the unwanted extra between us, eyeing his steaming mug. ‘And you didn’t leave any for me.’

‘You were fast asleep,’ he replied, taking a sip. ‘It would have gone cold.’

‘You could’ve woken me up.’

‘And if I had, you would have complained all morning.’

I hate to admit it, he’s kind of right.

I clutched my own mug, letting the warmth seep into my fingers as I counted each blimp suspended over the city. So far, nothing had changed from yesterday. But then again, it also wasn’t noon yet. Slowly drinking my coffee, I sighed. ‘I guess I’ll just have to drink twice as much now.’

Chishiya didn’t even bother entertaining me with a reply. He seemed content with the peace and quiet. Only, when he finally set down his empty mug, he reached for the extra one.

I raised a brow. ‘I thought you didn’t want it.’

He began to drink it anyway. ‘These cups are too small.’

I dipped my head into my mug to hide my smile, although knowing him, he probably saw it anyway. The sun was now gleaming above the empty city, nearly at its highest point in the sky. Apprehension swelled uncomfortably within me, and I wrapped my arms around my knees while I finished my coffee. ‘Are you going to go to the Jack of Diamonds today?’

‘The Queen and King too,’ he said. ‘I’ll work my way up.’

It was fine. It was fine. Chishiya was clever enough to survive, and I had every confidence that he would complete the games easily. More importantly, he was the most intelligent person I’d ever met. If anyone stood a chance at clearing the Diamond face cards so we could all go home, it was him. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t scared.

He could still get hurt. He could still...

It didn’t bear thinking about.

‘At least let me come with you.’ Before he could protest or decline, I added, ‘Just to wait outside. I can’t sit here, not knowing anything.’

His expression was guarded as he downed the last of his coffee. ‘Do what you want. Although you might be waiting a while. I don’t know how long the games will last.’

A loud gunshot blasted in the distance. I jumped, inching closer to Chishiya. He was stone still. Another shot ricocheted, the clap echoing off the concrete skyscrapers. Were guns usually that loud? Loud enough to be heard all the way from here? This sounded almost like an explosion, only sharper.

Something’s not right.

And I knew exactly what.

Chishiya set his second empty mug on the rooftop. ‘It’s started.’

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

The city streets were deserted, yet I couldn’t help but stay on my guard. While the games were contained to their venues, that gunfire before hadn’t been normal – I’d witnessed enough of Niragi’s sniper to know the difference. It had gone on for several minutes, before eventually ebbing away, and only then did we set out for the Jack of Diamonds venue.

Despite the threat of the games ahead, Chishiya appeared relaxed on the surface, but there was a slight crease between his brows, and his eyes scanned every alleyway we passed, occasionally drifting to our reflections in store windows. His hands were pushed into his pockets, and I didn’t dare try to hold one.

‘Are you worried about the game?’ I kept my voice low, just in case.

‘You shouldn’t have come with me.’

I thought we’d already talked about this.

There was no way I could sit around in our little hideout, never knowing whether or not he was going to come back. I needed to be there. I needed to see the outcome with my own eyes.

‘You told me to do what I want,’ I said. ‘And this is what I want. I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine. Those guns were probably from a game.’

‘Maybe... maybe not,’ he mused.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Chishiya may not be the easiest person to read, but we both knew what he was really trying to say. We rounded a corner, heading further into the city centre. From what we could see of the blimps, the Jack, Queen and King of Diamonds were all pretty close to one another, and all within a reachable distance from the furniture store.

‘You should be more worried about your game,’ I remarked.  

‘Why?’

‘What do you mean, ‘why’? You could... you know.’

‘If I die, it’ll be of no consequence for you,’ he said. ‘And besides, I’ll die at some point anyway. There’s no use in trying to avoid it.’

His words no longer scared me, but rather, they were upsetting. How could he be so cavalier about it?

He really doesn’t care about his own life...

‘It does have consequence. I told you in the dealer’s den, didn’t I? If you’re not going to try and survive for yourself, then at least do it for me.’

The corner of his mouth lifted into that familiar sly smile. ‘Such big demands. You shouldn’t waste your own life being concerned about mine.’

We crossed the road, entering a new street, and the metal edge of a blimp appeared in the far distance.

‘I think I told you about that too. I can’t help being scared for you.’ I glanced away, looking instead at the side of a van. The words still felt strange to say out loud, even if I’d said them so brazenly during the Witch Hunt. ‘I lo—’

The van door erupted in a hot blast of glass and metal. The force blew me back, stumbling, as something struck my face. Hands gripped my forearms, dragging me away from the ground – I was on the ground? – and pulling me in a direction. I didn’t know where we were. The streets were shaking, or maybe I was. Maybe the whole world was shaking. And was that Chishiya in front of me?

Chishiya?

There was red in his blond hair and on his neck, wet and glistening. And his fingers were tight – far too tight – around my wrist. Where was he going? My feet were moving after him. No, he was the one dragging me like this, swaying us back and forth erratically. My eyes began to focus, the fog in my head clearing a little.

The gunshots... and that van. But how could a gun do that to a van?

‘Chishiya?’

If he heard me, his only response was to pull me harder until his fingernails dug into my skin. My numb legs jittered and tingled, but I tried my best to keep up with him. There was a strange humming above our heads, and I looked up, catching sight of a blimp overshadowing the office buildings above, darkening their windows and...

A gleam.

‘Chishiya!’

Glass exploded everywhere as the store window behind us shattered. Someone screamed – they sounded like me, only I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t... Someone tugged at my clothes, but I tore away, sprinting as fast as I could down the street. There was a shooter. There was someone shooting at us.

Side to side... I need to run from side to side.

As I ran, I veered in different directions, trying to keep things as unpredictable as possible. I ducked around corners and alleys, only to realise something. Chishiya was nowhere to be seen.

Don’t panic.

I slowed, breathless, as I swung onto another street, dipping behind a store.

Don’t panic.

The store crashed apart; the windows destroyed. Arms shielding my face, I toppled to the ground, coughing uncontrollably at the smell of hot plastic as mannequin limbs scattered the pavement.

I needed to run... I needed to run. My head was throbbing and burning now. Picking myself up, I pushed to keep going, running no matter how much my limbs ached. There was a strange buzzing noise that clashed painfully with the ringing in my ears.

And then I saw a glimmer of hope.

Across a traffic intersection was a large, off-white building with endless windows, marked 図書館. The entrance door shut softly as someone took shelter inside.

There!

The buzzing noise grew louder and louder, and my vision swam as I tore across the empty roads and into the building, slamming the door behind me. My legs finally gave way, and I collapsed against the wall, my eyes closing as I caught my breath.

Chishiya. I lost sight of him after that window was destroyed. Maybe he ran in the other direction. Or maybe... No.

He can’t be. He wouldn’t, not that easily.

‘It’s you.’

My eyes shot open at the familiar voice. Of all people to bump into, An was staring down at me with mild concern. It was An. Surging with relief, I tried to get to my feet to greet her, only my head flashed with dizzying pain.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Don’t get up. You’ll need your strength.’ I didn’t understand. She came in here to shelter too, right? Before I could question her, she crouched down in front of me and gently touched my forehead. Her fingers came back red. ‘What happened?’

My lungs ached with each syllable. Just getting the words out was a struggle. ‘苣屋一緒...にいた. ダイヤモンドのジャックに... 行っていた. 銃の音... が聞きた. すべて...’ I was together with Chishiya... We were going to the Jack of Diamonds... I heard gun sounds... and then everything...

I didn’t know the words for ‘gunshots’ or ‘explosion’, but An still nodded in understanding. Her eyes narrowed a little at Chishiya’s name, only she didn’t appear to be surprised by what I told her.

‘That’ll be the King of Spades. His sniper isn’t a regular gun. It’s designed to penetrate airships and armoured cars apparently.’

I didn’t understand the latter half of what she said, but one name stuck out unmistakably.  

The King of Spades?

‘どう知ってるか?’ I asked. How do you know?

An gestured behind her, and I finally noticed the two women anxiously watching us. One had long, flowing blond hair and was wearing a thin headband. The other had brown hair tied up in pigtails. ‘He attacked our camp right after the second stage started.’

So those were the gunshots we heard on the roof. And their camp...

‘Kuina?’

An lowered her head to the tiled floor. ‘I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know where she is. She left in a car with Arisu and Tatta. We were in a separate car and we drove all the way here.’

Kuina... she has to be alive. I refuse to believe otherwise.

She was strong and smart, and if she drove away with those two, she was probably okay.

Probably.

It made sense that the King of Spades started with their group, then travelled further into the city centre before running into Chishiya and I. But if he was moving to attack players then that could only mean... A sickening feeling grew in the pit of my stomach.

‘彼のゲーム会場,’ I said, ‘全部の東京だね?’ His game venue. It’s all of Tokyo, isn’t it?

‘It seems that way,’ An said, adjusting her sunglasses. ‘From what I can assume, the only place that isn’t his game venue is within other games.’ She glanced reassuringly at the other girls behind her. ‘While we’re in here, we should be safe from him, at least.’

At least?

A horrible thought slipped into my mind. A really, really horrible thought. But I almost didn’t want to believe it. It would be too unlucky – a downright cruel trick of fate.

My apprehensiveness must’ve been obvious, as An tilted her head, curiously. ‘You didn’t know,’ she murmured. ‘この建物はダイヤモンドの女王会場だ.’

No, it couldn’t be true. Maybe I misheard. I had to have misheard. My mind ran in circles, desperate to find Chishiya, to go home and finish my sentence, tell him what I tried to say before the van windows burst. But Chishiya wasn’t here. I didn’t know where he was. I was alone.

Assuming I hadn’t quite understood, An said it again, slower this time. There was no need. My fate was already sealed the moment I took shelter here.

‘This is the Queen of Diamonds venue.’

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

OC-tober Day 2: Glass

OC-tober prompts put together by @oc-growth-and-development​! I have to ramble in meta instead of write, because my brain is Mush lately. (I know I’m behind but I have a lot pre-written, I just need to put it into coherent words!)

This one especially can be rambled about at length, because the most important “glass” object in my stories is one I greatly enjoy exploring: Dove’s mindscape mirror!

^ I drew it forever ago; here’s the deviantArt link if you’d like to see the big version! 

https://www.deviantart.com/ravenshiddensoul/art/Dove-s-Keepsakes-Mirror-and-Box-284227087

It’s largely modeled after a bird stretching its wings upwards, with a handle like a tail and certain details are inlaid with Azarathean gold to better channel its magics.

Now, this is where the rambling begins: The mirror’s backstory, and I’ll be exploring one of my favorite things to develop in all of my stories: Dove’s mindscape!

Dove's mirror isn't one of her most prized possessions, nor super incredibly sentimental, but it IS an object touched with her mother's magic, it has flourishes of Azarathean gold (some of the last pieces to exist), and it's useful for introspection and self-soothing, so it does have some value and importance.

Dove struggled with meditating quite a lot as a child, and there was only so much her mother could do to help. Meditation was pretty important to them as both a means of helping Dove control her powers, and as a staple of Azarathean spirituality. As she so often did, Alerina poked around and asked enough questions around the temple that she was told about Raven's mirror, and she decided to replicate it for Dove. She custom ordered a gold-lined wooden hand mirror, and then cast the spells to connect it to Dove's inner world herself. It took a few tries (it's much harder to connect something to someone else's mind than your own, after all), but she was nothing if not determined to help her daughter, and eventually figured it out.

As for its main purpose: Self-reflection! (If you'll pardon the pun.) Dove uses it to meditate, but where Raven uses hers for centering and compartmentalization, Dove uses it more as a blend of escapism and a focusing aid.

Much like Raven's, Dove's mirror acts as a portal to the depths of her mind, and this is where it gets fun!

The vortex that transports the users is usually white and gold, imbued with the same energies that give Dove her powers, at least on her mother's side. It's noticeably touched with black and red in DDD. (Dove's evil side starts taking over her mind, and thus its energies manifest through the mindscape, and Dove's portal into it, hence: black and red energies instead.) It tends to open up like a light tunnel and almost opens the mental world around the user, rather than dragging them in.

Once inside, one can't expect to navigate the same way as Beast Boy and Cyborg did in "Nevermore". Every mind is different, after all! We saw Raven's mindscape divided nearly into emotional sections with a neutral space between them, and the way through each area was preset and linear. While different parts of Dove's internal world manifest in different "areas", they're not so totally divided and separate, and there's no real "neutral" zone except at the very "center". The scenery changes, but it's more of a gradual transition, and though Dove employs thresholds to mark key areas, they're very much just visual aids.

Dove's mindscape is laid out more like a series of rooms and courtyards in a very (very, very, very) large mansion. The ground is generally of crystal, spires and columns decorate the scenery, and the thresholds are modeled after birds with their wings outspread. (While this seems like a play on Dove's namesake, it's actually based on Azarath's architecture, particularly that of George Perez's Azarath in the 1980's New Teen Titans comics.)

Dove's sky shows various stars and often casts moonlight from an uncertain source, particularly when she's introspecting. The ambient temperature varies amongst the locations, chilly in the regions ruled by fear and sadness, uncomfortably warm near her demon's domain, and comfortable and breezy where her peace and contentment reside.

One could easily get lost in her mindscape if they don't know where they're going. The place can shift and change on a whim.

Where Dove spends her time building that peace and contentment, it's very closely modeled after her mother's memories of Azarath (which is where she learned how to find peace, after all): there's marble and gold everywhere, and the stars twinkle with dozens of colors in the sky.

Where Dove retreats when there are feelings of timidity, her excruciating shyness, her grief and doubt, the world becomes shrouded in thick fog. Broken buildings and pale light litter the grounds.

Where she built her love for reading, for history, for creativity and study and learning, it's arranged as rooms with dark marbled tile and a carpeted path, the floor for dozens of feet on either side littered with piles of books.

Dove's inner happy place is an open field on gently rolling hills, where thoughts take the form of birds and somehow the sky holds both the stars and suns. One might find trees, flowers, abstract forms of cottages, and forts loaded with mugs and cozy cushions. If you wander far enough you'll find very tall stone walls surrounding it, because Dove's mind is such that her happiness is one of the few things she really truly believes she needs to protect from the rest of herself.

And then there are the aspects of herself that she shoves the deepest down, secreted far away from the surface: the anger, the hunger for power, the mean streak. (Yes, believe it or not, Dove does have a mean streak! You just have to work especially hard to bring it out. Or trigger her in just the right ways around sadism, violence, war, or death. It's very much Not Recommended; bringing too much of that mean streak out could mean Dove loses control of her powers, or worse: her demonic aspects.)

Those secret forces aren't so much located in one particular space of her mind as they're hidden in every dark corner, coursing through the underside of all the ground, a tantalizing power running through every part of her, only ever set free enough to use the dangerous powers to her own ends.

Her places for Fear and Curiosity in particular will be explored in the upcoming Missing: Raven rewrite. (As they're the strongest things Dove is feeling in that story, that's going to be what Beast Boy and Cyborg encounter.) I also explored the way these things manifest in DDD, and in that same story Dove will focus on rebuilding Peace in the final chapter.

I can't talk about Dove's mindscape without mentioning the "emoticlones". These fun little guys are called by the fanon term given to Raven's "emotion clones", the separate parts of her that express a specific set of traits based on particular aspects of her personality. I had so much fun playing with their voices and thoughts in Dove's head during DDD, you have no freaking idea! I also copied the concept of them having Colored Cloaks from Teen Titans canon, because honestly it's a quick and easy way to identify them, and the fandom's familiar with this system through Raven.

Which colors mean what was more inspired by details from a really old, now-defunct website called Cartoon Orbit that had separate "online trading cards" for each of Raven's emoticlones! On that site, Raven's were labeled as such, and this is what I based Dove's system on, loosely: - Pink: "Raven Happy" - Red: "Raven Rage" - Orange: "Raven Rude" - Yellow: "Raven Smart" - Green: "Raven Brave" - Brown: "Raven Fear" (I'm pretty sure there was a purple one, but I don't recall what it was called. "Love" maybe? That might be from fanon; this site was running like 15 years ago, and I was like 10 years old, so I hardly thought to pay Super Special Attention to it...)

But I digress. The point is, I adapted that system for the key aspects of Dove's unique personality, and came to understand them as follows:

- Pink: Joy, relief, coziness - Red: Cruelty, impulsivity, anger - Orange: Apathy, indifference, disregard - Yellow: Curiosity, study, intrigue - Green: Courage, determination, activity - Blue: Contentedness, pacifism, spirituality - Purple: Compassion, friendship, romanticism - Gray: Sadness, grief, longing. - Brown: Fear, fear, fear!

But for Dove's mind in particular, it's not only HER experiences and personality that form the world! She's a telepath, and though she holds others' privacy in very, very high regard and tries never to read someone's mind without their permission, her sense of receptive telepathy is ever-present. Echoes, lights, shadows, reflections of others' memories and thoughts might affect the very edges of her mind. It's a constant sense, but it only ever causes very ephemeral changes unless something deeply affects her.

Her mindscape also grows and changes as Dove grows and changes, experiences life, learns to cope, and changes how she handles her own emotions.

Most notably, the internal struggle in DDD tore her mind apart. Initially it was due to a breakdown of certainty and confidence, hastened by guilt and grief, but it soon became a deliberate tactic to wage war on the parts of Dove's mind that were trying to resist the evil; eventually her inner demon began intentionally breaking/corrupting everything it could touch.

By chapter 20, that evil is the only strong and stable thing in Dove's mind. Raven's attack to remove the evil in her took away that stability, and strength, and thus took away what was essentially the last support holding Dove's mind together. As it says in the story: "everything collapsed". Dove's mindscape was utterly destroyed, and only the most basic aspects of her remained.

For awhile, that left Dove unable to remember things clearly, or feel emotions without great pain. Rebuilding it to the point where she was able to talk and feel Mostly Normally again took months of meditation.

When Dove is kidnapped and Leyla has distressing dreams about her mother, she, Srentha, and Raven use the mirror to check on Dove by accessing her mindscape. With her powers stripped away, surrounded by people who mock her, and certain Fauni rituals sickening Dove to her soul, naturally her mind is very different: shadowy forms flitted at the edges of vision, the ground wavered, her discomfort was thick in the air and the constant fear made everything so, so cold. "Shadows" of others' thoughts flashed in and out of existence, and Dove's desperation manifests as fleeting voices on the wind. It's uncomfortable to be in her mind while she's so distressed.

It's also worth mentioning that her mindscape changes again, essentially "growing" the part of her that belongs to Love when she finally lets herself love Srentha, and it expands again when Leyla's born and Dove once more finds depths of love she didn't know she could carry.

[nakedmossy]

Depth Over Distance - Part One [Rudy x Reader]

[A/N: I haven’t found a hometown Rudy fic yet soooo I wrote one. I have no idea where this story is going to go and I’m honestly finding it hard to get out of writing JJ and get into writing Rudy, but here we go anyways. I wanted to write something where the reader and Rudy were hometown friends before he moved to LA, and to explore the idea of how that would change/what it would look like when he comes back. Get ready for a S L O W. B U R N. my dudes. Peace and love, Mossy x]

The sky was grey and the air was wet - it had been raining for 4 days straight. You sat in your car with the heat cranked, your window down slightly so that the humidity didn’t fog up your mirrors. Living on the Alaskan coast was beautiful most of the time but horrible some of the time, especially when you had to waste gas just keeping warm and dry at 6pm in the beginning of ‘Summer’. 

You had never lived anywhere else aside from the summer you spent in Vancouver with your cousin when you were 19. Now, at 23, you were working full time at the local bookshop that was an 8 minute drive from your house in the winter and a 20 minute walk/skate in the summer. Your car was parked street side, waiting for your friend Lizzy to finish her shift at the cafe. The smell of the rain and the Ben Howard song on the radio made you nostalgic about the times you and your friends from high school had spent hours skating down these streets, beers in your backpacks, no helmets, dirty shoes and clothes, no pressure, no responsibilities, no cell service...no worries. 

Since graduation a lot of your friends had moved out of town, either to Anchorage or down to Washington, or further south. Your best friend Lizzy had stayed close to home, helping run her families business and working part time at the cafe. You had stayed local too...your dad owned a fishing guide business and your mom was an admin assistant for the MD in town, but neither made enough to cover all the medical bills you had racked up over the last few years. You figured once the debt was paid off you might leave...but you had no idea where you would go. 

You missed all of your friends, but you missed the boys the most, aside from Lizzy you didn't have a lot of female friends, and your boys had been like brothers to you. You spoke to most of them every few weeks on FaceTime, except Rudy. He had gone to LA for awhile and had kept in touch loosely, but after the first few months he started to drift. 

You felt the loss the hardest for Rudy. He had been your closest friend the longest, you had spent nearly every day of every summer together since you were 9, and every school year you worked the same part time job at the seafood restaurant on the water. Now, the last you heard, he was coming back for the summer to ‘reconnect’. You had low expectations and tried not to let yourself get excited, but truthfully, you wanted him to spend some time at home and be around his own kind again - he had always been a homebody and you were worried that being gone for 4 years would go to his head or change him.

Lizzy tapped on the glass, causing you to blink out of your reverie and smile at her. You rolled the window down and let her reach in and open the door from the inside (the handle had been broken since high school). She threw her backpack and skateboard in the back seat, climbing in and closing her door.

“Ugh.” She grunted as her teeth chattered and she rubbed her bare legs. 

“You know its only May, you shouldn’t even be wearing shorts yet. The snow just melted.”

Lizzy glared at you playfully and put her hand out to do your handshake. You did it, then put the car in drive and started slowly down the street, windshield wipers moving rhythmically.

“How was the shift?” You asked as you checked your mirrors and wiped some humidity off the rear view. 

“Same old” Lizzy leaned back in her seat and pulled the visor mirror down to fix her hair. “That old man Collins from the cannery keeps coming in and harassing me.”

“Jack? The one with the eye patch?” 

Lizzy nodded dramatically as she held the bobby pins in her mouth and started to twist her straight black hair off her face. 

“That guy-“ She finished placing the final pin and slammed the visor closed “-Is an absolute creep.”

You snorted a sarcastic laugh and rolled your eyes.

“He’s like...70. And widowed. Don’t be rude.”

“I’m not being rude. Im just...asserting my boundaries.”

“You literally have a 3 foot counter between you at minimum, at all times.” You looked over at her and raised your eyebrows.

“Whatever. All I’m saying is we need hotter men in this town. Like...soon.”

You nodded in agreement and felt your eyes wander all over the road, remembering the time you and Rudy had taken your longboards down it after a torrential downpour and you had crashed and gotten such bad road burn that he had to call his dad to come pick you both up because you couldn’t walk.

“Hey, Y/N, are you listening?” Lizzy cut back in, staring at you.

“No, what?”

“I said, speaking of hot guys, I heard Rudy is coming back for a few months.”

You pinched your face and looked at her then at the road, then back at her.

“Rudy is not hot. Rudy is....Rudy. What are you talking about?”

Lizzy looked at you disbelieving and closed her mouth, trying not to smile.

“What!” You repeated, smacking her arm.

“Hey!” She laughed, then shook her head and looked out the window. “Whatever you say man, I just think....” She grabbed her water bottle and began to screw off the lid “I just think...he’s not gonna be the same Rudy that left 4 years ago. He’s like...a movie star now.”

You couldn’t even begin to touch that one. You knew what she was doing...she was always harping on you about going on dates or taking trips with her to the mainland to hook up with the pilots during their layovers. You never went, and always insisted that you were just fine and were not interested. She never listened. Part of that was true...you were fine, and usually not interested. But sometimes, when the water was calm and the sunset was colourful and the fish were jumping and your beer was cold...you wished you had someone to share it with.

“I’m going up to Skagway this weekend with my dad” You said, changing subjects. “He’s short a guide and needs someone to drive the boat.”

“Lucky you” She said sarcastically, screwing the lid back on her bottle. “Another weekend spent with men twice your age who have zero ability to catch a fish and even less ability to smell nice.” 

“It’s good money.” You said flatly, annoyed that everything seemed to revolve around men with her. “And in case you forgot I’m kinda in need of that at the moment.”

Lizzy licked her lips and put her hands up, dipping her head. 

“Alright...noted. Chill out Kemosabe.” She giggled under her breath and looked out her window, drawing a small penis in the moisture on the window.

“Babe, seriously. You need to get laid.” You said, shaking your head.

“I know” She replied, working on the veins. “Trust me. Im in a state of national emergency by this time of year.”

Lizzy was absolutely one of the girliest girls (and most beautiful girls) in the south of Alaska, which was ironic considering the house she grew up in. Her dad was an overweight German restaurant entrepreneur who had opened a world class seafood restaurant in Juneau back in the 90s and had shacked up with her mother who was this drop dead gorgeous Haida warrior woman who you had literally seen kill and skin a bear with her own hands. 

They had forged this chain of restaurants local to Alaska that people flew hundreds of miles to eat at, but still lived in an off-grid cabin that hadn’t been insulated since 1960 and used wood heating. Not really the type of family that screamed southern belle femininity - yet somehow Lizzy came out of that union with a pink bed set, refusing to ever wear camo or sweatpants, and still had never shot a gun - which her mother reminded her of weekly. 

Lizzy had hit puberty at 10 and had used her breast advantage over every girl in your class for the next 3 years like some sort of distinction of better genetics, as if she needed boobs to prove that. Unlike you, she was naturally thin and tall (6ft to be precise), had long, thick straight black hair and olive skin, and perfect hips. You felt like a prepubescent boy standing next to her, with your uneven complexion and your frizz and your awkward thigh fat distribution. You were envious of her genetics - her mother graced her with the body of an athlete and the thick black hair, and her father had given her height and cheekbones that could slice through glass. You looked down at your arms, covered in freckles, pasty white from lack of sun, and cringed, looking back at the road.

You turned the corner leaving the main road and starting on the dirt road that led to your favourite part of beach access. Lizzy pulled her hoodie out of her backpack and took off her seatbelt, leaning forward to pull it down over her head. You leaned forward and looked up, this was your favourite part of the drive. The dirt road which was lined with moss and ferns and other foliage wound along the base of the snow capped mountain that was at least 1000ft in elevation. The mist and fog from the coast was thick and creeped through the tall cedar trees, black ravens and falcons flying overhead stark against the white mist. This was the most idyllic picture of northwest coastal living you could find.

When you parked at the trail head Lizzy slipped off her work flats and into her Teva’s, you grabbed your yellow Vans out of your trunk and slipped them on. You usually drove bare foot, a habit you had started in high school after Rudy had thrown your shoes off the dock at the restaurant and you had to drive home without any. You grabbed your sweater and your backpack which had the beer in it. As you were both gathering the rest of your things...beach blanket, hats, and rain cover, you heard a car pull up behind you. You stood up out of the trunk and squinted to see the car through the fog. It was a black ford pickup you had never seen before. 

“Who’s that?” Lizzy chimed in from behind you.

“No clue” You said as you lifted your hand to wave once. 

The truck had tinted windows and looked brand new. When it pulled up beside you, the drivers side window began to unroll, revealing Junior - your high school (ex) sweetheart.

“Holy” You said, eyebrows up, nodding. “Nice truck - where’d you steal it from?” He rolled his eyes at you dramatically.

“Whatever kid - its a rental. Got it to drive to the airport in.” His chest puffed out and his expression read so proud. 

“Airport?” You said inquisitively. “Since when does Alan pay you to drive new trucks to the airport?” 

“Since Rudy hired him for the pick up service and apparently is incapable of driving his own ass around anymore” Junior snorted and waved at Lizzy.

“Or he doesn’t have a car here anymore” You noted, rolling your eyes at him.

“Either way, I get this bad boy for the next 24 hours and I intend to give her the royal grand tour of our humble town.” He ran his hand up and down the steering wheel, stroking the new leather. “Wanna go for a rip?” He said, winking. You shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Well I do” Lizzy piped up from beside you, walking closer to the window. She smiled at Junior and began to put her hair in a pony tail. She nudged your arm as she began to walk to the passenger side door. “Come on, granny. Let’s go!”

She laughed as she climbed up into the truck, but you shook your head again.

“I’m good...you kids have fun. Say hi to Rudy for me” You said to Junior, who shrugged his head and muttered ‘definitely wont do that’ under his breath.

Lizzy blew a kiss at you and waved once before Junior put it in drive and started to go up the dirt road north of you. 

Junior and you had ended on okay terms, but he had concocted a theory that you had broken up with him because of another guy, and the unspoken suggestion was that that guy had been Rudy. Small town guys had a heck of a time with the idea of girls and guys just being friends. 

You sighed and watched as the truck disappeared around the corner, and turned back to your own car. You grabbed your backpack and slammed the trunk closed, walking down the path alone. You weren’t mad at Lizzy for going with him - she was flighty and bailed on you at the bar all the time - but you were mad the beer was going to go warm before you could drink it all. Not that you should even be drinking 6 beers alone by the water when you had to drive yourself home. Doubtful the 2 cops in this town would even be awake to see you though. Whatever.

You reached the end of the path and rounded the corner, revealing the coast line and the rocky beach. It was your favourite place to sit and think, sit and smoke, sit and be yourself. The beach curled in a U shape, giving you a private spot where the rest of the shoreline was blocked from view and all you could see was the ominous cedar forest that stretched up the mountain, the snow caps at the top, and the horizon over the cold pacific.

You had intended to share the joint you had in your pocket with Lizzie, but...well, her loss. You spread the blanket out on the softest patch of sand and rocks you could find (which still meant you were guaranteed to get at least 2 rocks in the ass) and placed your bag down, kicking off your sneakers. You took a deep breath for the first time in a few days and lit the joint, taking one long, deep inhale. You felt it tingle through your chest and your arms and legs almost immediately, relaxing you. Being here alone always sent you into a spiral of memories and thoughts that you worked hard during the day to suppress. Most insistent lately had been thoughts about your health problems. You called them ‘health problems’ but in reality it was just an eating disorder. You could go 2, sometimes 3 days without eating anything, and never felt hungry. It started after graduation.

You had lost weight, dramatically, going from a stable 120-125 to 95 at most and 90 at worst, in the span of a month. And for the next three years you had never gained it back, you had stayed at a relatively stable 95, which still left you looking sickly and too thin at 5’3”. Your frame wasn’t built for that kind of weight drop, you were Scottish and Cree, sprinkled with a little bit of German and Irish. A classic northwest cracker mix. You weren’t naturally small, you always had a bit of something to grab onto, but it was normal to your body, healthy. 

Some part of your brain knew that it had something to do with leaving school...and the pretence that came with that. The expectation...the responsibility. You were never that kind of person, and it never really bothered you, but suddenly it had. You never planned to go to University right away, but you had no back up plan. It wasn't something you and your friends really talked about. But suddenly Jacob had gotten into U of Washington, Dan had left to backpack Europe, and Rudy had not so graciously announced he was deferring his acceptance and scholarship to culinary school because he wanted to be an actor, and flew to LA the next month. You had been left behind, with Lizzy of all people, and it had hit you hard.

You looked around the beach, dragging on your joint quicker than normal, trying to knock the thoughts out of your head. An Eagle screeched above - scaring you - and you laid back on the blanket, closing your eyes. You needed to chill the hell out. This was the first time in a few weeks that you had gotten a night off from helping your dad with his guide business and you didn’t plan on wasting it riddling your brain with anxiety and worrying about your body.

You looked up at the sky and watched the mist and fog kiss the clouds, the sunset colours dancing across them. As it usually did, the rain had stopped just as the sun was going down, the clouds parting briefly and letting the smallest sliver of sunlight through, just enough to burn the grey light out of the sky and allow the pink and orange hues to fade along the horizon. You sat up and cracked a beer, enjoying the fresh smelling air and the rhythmic sound of the waves licking the shore line. 

Two beers in you had put on your jacket and placed your Bluetooth speaker next to you on the blanket, blasting a playlist that Rudy had made you for your graduation party.

Three beers in you took the jacket off, standing up and dancing by yourself on the beach to the music.

Four beers in you laid down on the blanket, balled your jacket up and used it as a pillow, and started looking for shapes in the stars.

Five beers in you fell sleep.

———

Many hours later, as the sun rose and was bright on the water and the early morning bird feed was in full swing overhead, you were drifting in and out of sleep to the squawking when a shadow came across your face, alerting you to groggily open your eyes.

“What’s up, Little Fern?” His voice had gotten deeper. Wait, what?

You opened your eyes and blinked, raising a hand to block the sun. There, in your very awake and very not dreaming state, was the unmistakable silhouette that you had spent the last 18 years dreaming about and 18 years being a friend to.

Rudy.

[agoodgoddamnshot]

Excuse - Geralt/Jaskier/Eskel/Lambert [G]

[Gif isn’t mine]

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 1,700

Originally posted to my AO3

Kaer Morhen is cold. Jaskier's Witchers are warm. What else is he supposed to do?

Jaskier would argue that he has a lot of good ideas. Geralt would argue the opposite, considering how many times the Witcher has to work him out of trouble as a result of Jaskier’s good ideas, but that’s nothing but slander on the Witcher’s part. Jaskier has a lot of good ideas, and this may be his best one yet.

He isn’t shy. Words have always come easy to him whether he would compose yet another Continent-seizing hit that would spread throughout the land like a wildfire, or lulling women and men into languid kisses and into his bed or theirs. Geralt might have his swords and potions, but Jaskier has his own weapon, and it’s even more deadly.

And what was he going to do? Go to a near-abandoned keep perched at the top of a northern mountain, with his only company for the season being other Witchers, and not try and enjoy himself? Gods be good, he isn’t insane.

He’s chuffed. A smile hasn’t left his lips as the bodies around him finally settle. One would think after spending so many winters together, that they would each know where to go and where to lie. Apparently not. It’s a forest of legs and arms, and through it all the warmth of a lit hearth and the mingling scents of bathing salts and soaps blankets over them. With the warmth sureness of having bodies around him, gathering him close and keeping him comfortably in bed, the world outside slips away. The rest of the Continent, the wars brewing in the far south, even the storm that has been threatening to tumble through the ridges and peaks of the mountains for the last few days and nights; all of it ceases to exist and there is only this room and the keep around them.

A low hum rumbles through the hollow of his neck. “Go to sleep, little lark,” Geralt murmurs, eyes still closed and breathing beginning to deepen and thin. Jaskier can’t see Geralt’s face, but he imagines it’s softer than usual. His brow smoothes and his lips part ever so slightly when he sleeps or dozes. Even in the mediations he does either out in the wilds or in the corners of tavern rooms, Geralt looks completely at peace when he’s teetering on the edge of wakefulness and sleep.

He’s home now, surrounded by his family, and for the first time that year, his shoulders can finally slacken and fall, and he can breathe. This far north, bundled high up in a keep many people don’t even believe exists anymore, no one will come to bother them.

Geralt’s arm is strung across him, holding his waist hostage as he has Jaskier gathered close while he dozes by the bard’s side. Just beyond Geralt is Lambert, lying on his back, like Jaskier, but with his shoulder and side pressed against Geralt’s back.

Geralt explained it to him once; the need for them to bundle together, to make sure that they’re well and alive and here. And if Jaskier finds himself at the epicentre of it all, then he’ll gladly have three well-built Witchers clambered around him. Eskel dozes by his other side, already lost to sleep as he drifts further and further down. His hold on Jaskier slackens slightly, but his arm slung over Jaskier’s shoulders and his leg strewn across the bard’s won’t move any time soon.

He’s effectively pinned; arms and legs of Witchers strewn over him and each other, a maze of limbs that he has no plans of trying to worm out of any time soon. There isn’t even a need for the blankets or furs of the bed. Witchers run warm, it seems; when they’re freshly washed and their skin is soft, and sleep threatens to take them under as they doze.

Lips press to his neck, just over his pulse-point. Jaskier hums. A smile still stretches across his lips. He’s thoroughly pleased with himself; and Geralt surely knows that. He must feel how Jaskier is almost trembling with having everyone around him, dozing and sleep-soft and willing to let him in to their huddle for the winter. Oh gods. He’s going to have this for the whole season. His smile only grows.

If Geralt can feel it, he doesn’t say anything. His arm tightens around Jaskier’s waist as he moves slightly closer; a warm line along Jaskier’s side and huddled close to him. The bed is big enough for the four of them, quite comfortably. If one of them were to roll away during the night, they would have the space for it.

And Jaskier has to wonder what it must have been like all those sun-turns ago, when they were scrawny and weary-eyed pups who banded together when their training turned harsh. A place like this, that haunts all of them in some way, with more ghosts lurking through the halls than stones making them up, can still be their home. Rooms of tormentors and teachers became their own. This is their space now; and Jaskier is more than a guest. This is his home too. A nest to fly to when the winter winds roll in.

A hand reaches over Geralt, lightly swatting at Jaskier’s thigh. “I can hear you thinking, pigeon,” Lambert grumbles, turning over on to his side. Over Geralt’s shoulder, Jaskier spots one golden eye trying to glare at him through the heavy sleep fog that is lapping over them. “Shut the fuck up.”

Geralt kicks back, aiming for Lambert’s shin. “Stop talking,” he rumbles, eyes still closed. Jaskier looks down at him fondly, noting how his brows are starting to knit together. He reaches as close to Geralt’s face as he can; his own limbs are lost to the entanglement he’s in, but he manages to brush the back of his knuckles against Geralt’s cheek, smoothening out his expression again.

Lambert all but scoffs behind him, but bundles close all the same. Eskel barely budges. Jaskier listens to his long and languid breaths, to how slowly his heart beats within the depths of his chest. Jaskier stretches his neck as best as he can, pressing a light kiss to Eskel’s forehead and watching with delight as the man’s brows knit together and his nose wrinkles. His hold on Jaskier tightens and he burrows close, setting his nose against Jaskier’s bare shoulder and breathing in a lungful of scent. The moment that he does, his frown slips away and he falls back to sleep.

They’ve all seemed to have had quite a year. Hunts and contracts and run-ins with Destiny, Jaskier can’t blame them for filling their stomachs with as much of Vesemir’s food as they could, padding down to the hot springs not long after and letting their sore muscles soak until they were soft. All Jaskier could do was bundle his wolves into their den, smiling as each of them found their own place around him and each other. And within moments, as soon as Eskel blearily waved his hands and all the candles throughout the room quenched, sleep lapped over them.

If he could have a winter of this, that would be good. Good things are few and far between these days, no matter where they go. Whispers of war and insurgents to the south, kingdoms starting to squabble among themselves, and all of the monsters, both other and human, lurking in the shadows. The Continent, and the rest of the world, can be shitty. Jaskier’s eyes have been cracked open to that throughout the years of travelling with the White Wolf.

But he trudges through the other three seasons just to have this; warm nights bundled inside of Geralt’s room, his wolves dozing and snoozing around him and keeping him safe and held. And he’ll fight every celestial and god in order to keep it this way.

He sinks further into the mattress, feeling sleep start to tug at him and lure him down. His eyelids grow heavy, and with the warmth of the room and the bodies around him, it’s a struggle to keep his eyes open. He’s just about to fall under when Geralt shuffles next to him, breathing out a long and languid sigh against Jaskier’s neck. When he speaks, it’s nothing more than a rumble that comes from the centre of his chest. “Are you still cold?”

Jaskier snorts, a sound that rouses the wolf furthest from him and earns another swat to his leg and a grumble to shut the fuck up. Geralt kicks back in Jaskier’s honour, getting Lambert in the shin.

Jaskier reaches up, carding his fingers through Lambert’s hair first, soothing the wolf’s hackles to lie down and settle. Lambert can be a bristly one, and downright cranky when the night wears on a bit too long, but Jaskier’s smile turns fond when he can feel the red wolf slowly melting under his touch. He tries to keep his voice low; something completely pointless when he’s surrounded by Witchers with enhanced hearing. “I’m much warmer now. Thank you, darling.”

Geralt knew exactly what he was doing. They all did. And still, Jaskier managed to lure three wolves into his bed. It’s not his fault. The keep is perched on the highest peak within the mountain, battered from all angles by sharp winter wind. The Witchers have their augmented bodies and don’t feel the cold, while Jaskier trembles and shivers and tries to wrap himself in as many layers as he can.

Or, as he discovered, just get a bunch of Witchers to warm him up instead.

Geralt hums against his neck. One that knows Jaskier is more than comfortable and pleased with himself, that he got what he wanted and is incredibly smug about the whole affair. But he breathes in his bard’s scent, letting it coat and settle on the roof of his mouth and lure him back to sleep. “Glad to be of service,” he murmurs, drifting off.

Jaskier beams at the ceiling, his smile unmovable as he feels each of his wolves slowly sink further into sleep, knowing that they feel safe with him to let their guards down. He revels in it.

[super-secret-sick-fics]

ouu yes ive been so obsessed with them (osasuna) recently and there’s barely any fics for them in this department lol i wanted to see something like suna coming to school sick with the stomach flu or something and osamu taking him home to take care of him (i feel like it’s ooc for suna to go to go school if he’s not feeling well so it’d probably be one of those where it gets progressively worse throughout the day) sorry if this is too long haha

Okay!! Thank you for this request. Sorry it took so long. Honestly, I had a lot of fun with this and it ended up being so long, that I’m gonna post it in 2 parts!!

You can totally read either as a stand alone though. Part 2 should be up soon :)

Suna and I have the same birthday, so I actually kinda put a lot of myself into him in this one since we share a star sign lmao. I hope it’s not too ooc for either of them. It’s my first time writing sunaosa!

Sick at School: a SunaOsa fic

Pair: Sick Suna, Caretaker Osamu

Word Count: 3,024

Warnings: vomit & swearing & soft cuddles

Part 2 Here

_________________________________

Suna was confused.

There was a strange gnawing in his gut that wasn’t there when he woke up this morning. In fact, when he woke up this morning, he felt perfectly fine. Maybe he was a little more tired than usual, but he didn’t sleep all that well, so he brushed it off and got ready for school.

But now, he was sitting in class, his eyes burning as he tried to stay awake. It was only Monday and only the second class of the day, but he felt like he’d been at school for days already. On top of the grumbly feeling in his stomach, his brain was muddled, so paying attention to whatever his teacher was saying was taking every bit of energy he could scrounge up.

It didn’t make sense. He slept his eight hours (even if it wasn’t the best sleep), he ate a good breakfast, he was hydrated, there weren’t any tests or games coming up to make him anxious at all. So the unsteady, uncomfortable, unusual feelings he currently felt simply did not make a single bit of logical, rational sense.

And because they didn’t make sense—because there was no rational reason for him to feel that way—he ignored it.

Ignoring it proved to be more difficult than he anticipated as the fog in his brain solidified into a consistent pounding and the gnawing in his stomach started to feel more like his stomach acid was boiling. The sun shining on him through the window didn’t help any, and he started to feel rather warm. By his fourth class, occasional cramps rolled through his body, forcing him to tense every muscle in his body to keep from wincing.

When the teacher finally released them for lunch, Suna folded his arms on his desk and hid his face in the crook of his elbow, ready to take a nap. Within three seconds, he heard the chair in front of him scrape the ground, grating on his ears, and felt his desk shake as someone sat down. He adjusted his head and peeked over his arm to find Osamu staring down at him, his usual bored look gracing his features.

“Yer sick, Sunarin,” he deadpanned and took a bite of his sandwich. Suna blinked at him several times.

Sick? Was that why he felt so weird? But he wasn’t sick this morning. There was no way he would have come to school if he felt bad.

Still, it would explain why he slept poorly. It must be a fast acting bug.

“I guess so,” he mumbled and buried his face in his elbow again.

“Hmmm,” Osamu mumbled. They were quiet for a minute or two before Osamu spoke again.

“Wanna go to the infirmary?” he asked, his mouth full.

Suna looked up at him again and sighed before sitting up. The world spun around for a brief second and he closed his eyes until the feeling went away. When it righted itself once more, his stomach was hurting worse than before.

“How’d you know anyway?” he asked and rested his chin in his hand.

“You’ve been lookin’ bad all mornin’. Wasn’t hard to tell.” Osamu shrugged. His sandwich was gone and he started making his way through the onigiri he most likely made himself. The fact that Osamu could tell he wasn’t feeling well from across the room made Suna blush. Or maybe he had a fever?

“Plus,” Osamu continued, “Tsumu’s home right now with a pretty nasty stomach bug. Threw up all over his bed last night.” He scrunched up his nose cutely, probably remembering the disastrous scene from the night before. Atsumu was never good at being a sick person. Or an injured person. Or a person at all, really.

“Wouldn’t be all that surprising if ya caught it from him since ya slept over at our place last weekend.”

Suna nodded in agreement.

“What about you?” he asked. Osamu shrugged again.

“I’ll probably be spewin’ my guts out by Thursday. Usually how it goes. One of us catches something then the other is sick within the week. We’ve only been sick at the same time a handful o’ times.”

“Mmmm,” Suna nodded and put his head down once more. It was suddenly very difficult to hold his head up.

“Infirmary?” Osamu asked again. Suna shook his head.

“Can’t move,” he whined before he could stop himself. Osamu looked at him with wide eyes.

“W-well, I’ll help ya out, dumbass,” he stuttered and Suna returned the wide eyed look.

“Uh, sure. But finish your lunch first. I can wait. You should eat. Wake me up when you’re done,” he said and closed his eyes.

“Alright. Lemme know if we need to go sooner though…” Osamu said hesitantly and Suna tried to ignore the implication behind the phrase.

Just because Atsumu had a stomach bug didn’t mean that Suna did too. He wouldn’t throw up at school. The increasing nausea absolutely had to be related to the growing migraine that slammed away at his head. He definitely would not throw up at school.

Before he started overthinking himself into a downward spiral, Osamu placed a hand in his hair. Suna was tense at first, but then Osamu started gently scratching his scalp and he immediately relaxed. He was a little embarrassed, honestly. Not because this was unusual though.

Osamu knew it helped Suna with his frequent headaches, so Suna was sure he somehow knew about the incoming migraine. It was just that this was usually something Osamu did for him in much more private settings. He’d do it on the bus on the way back from away games, or in one of their rooms after school or during a sleepover. To be so affectionate in the middle of their classroom was unheard of and if Suna wasn’t feeling so poorly, he’d probably smack Osamu’s hand away.

“Ya got a slight fever there, Sunarin,” Osamu whispered gently.

“Mmmm.”

“Okay. I’ll let ya know when I’m done eatin’.”

“Mmmm.”

Within a few seconds, Suna felt himself drift off.

When he woke up again, it wasn’t because of Osamu.

A violent cramp rolled through his gut and he shot up in his seat, ignoring the startled looks of his classmates. The cramp passed quickly, but left behind a foreboding feeling of nausea so intense it left him paralyzed and glued to his seat.

A second later, he noticed that Osamu was nowhere to be found and his anxiety increased. The situation was becoming increasingly urgent and there was no way in hell he could move or speak without throwing up all over his desk.

His chest tightened and he swallowed back a gag. He needed help. He needed Osamu.

“Suna-kun?” a girl from his class touched his shoulder and he flinched. She withdrew her hand.

“O-osamu—“ he forced out and she nodded urgently and ran away and out the door. Less than a minute later, she came back, Osamu hot on her heels. She pointed to Suna and Osamu nodded before rushing over and stood in front of him.

“Sunarin?” he tried and Suna shook his head.

“Are ya gonna—“ Suna nodded before Osamu could finish his question. The eyes of all of his classmates burned Suna’s already flushed cheeks and as if to let everyone know what was going on, a gag forced itself through his body painfully and he leaned over his desk. He brought the back of his hand up to his mouth and whimpered.

“Can someone bring me a trash can, maybe?” Osamu snapped at their peers. The girl from before nodded and dashed to the corner of the room and dragged the trash can over to Suna’s desk.

Everyone froze again and stared with scared eyes at the situation unfolding. Suna shook with effort, trying to stop the inevitable. He really really didn’t want everyone to watch him throw up.

Thankfully, Osamu had his back.

“Leave?!” He shouted and everyone ran out of the room.

“I’ll bring the nurse, Osamu-kun,” the same girl said and Osamu nodded, but his eyes were focused only on Suna. They’d have to remember to thank that girl later.

“I’m sorry, Rintaro. I finished my lunch and you were sleepin’ so peaceful I thought I had time to go to the bathroom before I took ya to the infirmary,” Osamu apologized and cupped Suna’s face in his hands. His voice was much softer than a second ago. It was the voice reserved for those quiet nights that they spent chatting before they fell asleep. Or on the team bus early in the morning when everyone else was still too groggy to pay attention to them. And it comforted Suna in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

“I feel sick, S-samu,” Suna forced through gritted teeth. The swirling in his stomach grew more insistent by the second and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was leaning over the trash can.

“I know, Rin. I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’ve got ya,” Osamu smiled softly at him and brushed his hair back. He frowned when Suna unconsciously leaned into his cold hands.

“Fever got higher,” he mumbled. Suna gagged again.

“Alright, c‘mon,” he said and circled around the desk behind Suna. Osamu gently grabbed his trembling shoulders and positioned him over the trash can. People’s leftovers from lunch filled about half the bin and the smell of all the different foods made Suna dizzy.

“Rin, ya gotta relax,” Osamu sighed and forcefully rubbed between Suna’s shoulder blades.

“N-no,” Suna said stubbornly.

“Yer an idiot.”

“Y-yeah.”

“It’s gonna feel worse if ya don’t just let it happen,” Osamu tried. Suna shook his head.

“Alright well, be mad at me later, then,” Osamu muttered. Suna was about to turn and look at him questioningly, but Osamu wrapped a hand around Suna’s front and placed it on his stomach. Even the minimal contact forced a wretch that left Suna reeling.

“D-don’t,” he tried, but the request was punctuated by a painful hiccup.

“I’m sorry. Can’t do that,” Osamu responded before starting to rub up and down on Suna’s stomach quickly. The motion shook the contents nauseatingly and Suna couldn’t stop the watery burp that followed. He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

Osamu didn’t relent. He started patting Suna’s back with the other hand, forcing belch after belch. The conflicting motions wreaked havoc on Suna’s already chaotic stomach.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever, before Suna grabbed Osamau’s wrist tightly.

“S-stop—hurrk. P-please, Samu. No m-mor—hic,” Suna begged. All of his limbs felt like they were about a thousand pounds and he shivered, cold despite the sun beating down on his back.

“It’s okay, Rin. I got ya,” Osamu muttered. He pried Suna’s sweaty hand off his wrist and replaced it with his hand. Suna squeezed hard when a wet belch jolted his body. His other hand grabbed the rim of the trash can in a white-knuckled grip. Osamu used his free hand to rub gently between Suna’s shoulder blades again.

Suna squeezed his eyes shut when he wretched. His throat felt tight and he tried to swallow the accumulating saliva in his mouth, only for it to come back up with a noisy gag. He opted to just drop his mouth open and let the spit fall into the trash can disgustingly.

“S-Samu—“ he tried but was interrupted by a guttural, wet, burp that left his head spinning. Two seconds later, he wretched and a weak stream vomit dribbled out of his mouth. It burned his throat and coated his mouth. The disgusting taste left him more nauseous than he thought possible and a belch gurgled in the back of his throat. He heaved, but nothing else came up.

“Ah, Rin, I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry,” Osamu shushed him. Suna didn’t even realize he was crying.

He continued heaving for what must have been an eternity before another painful gag jolted him forward and brought with it a torrent of pale vomit into the trash can. At least he didn’t have to see everyone’s discarded lunch anymore. Not that his new view was much prettier.

“There ya, go Sunarin,” Osamu soothed. Suna sputtered and coughed, trying to catch his breath. His body was relentless though, and before he felt like he had sufficient oxygen, he was lurching forward with more forceful vomit pouring out of his mouth.

Suna’s body didn’t let up. It was stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of gasping breaths abruptly interrupted by a fountain of vomit forcing its way out. Eventually, he was just left heaving over the trash can, his stomach trying but failing to expel whatever might be left. Anxiety crawled up his spine and the room spun. He wanted to breathe, he really did. He just couldn’t.

“Fuck, Rin, breathe. Please,” Osamu demanded and his voice shattered through Suna’s panic. He nodded and closed his eyes to try and collect himself. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled heavily through his mouth. A minute or two of that, and he was able to take in his surroundings again.

At some point, Osamu wrapped an arm around Suna’s chest because apparently, his own arms gave out at some point and hung limply at his sides. He spit the residual nastiness out of his mouth and squinted up at Osamu.

“Can we leave?” he asked plainly. Osamu stared at him owlishly and then chuckled.

“It’s the middle of the day Rin, I can’t just—“

“Please?” he all but begged and grabbed Osamu’s arm. Osamu hesitated for the briefest of seconds before relenting with a heavy breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course. Want me to call yer mom?” Osamu responded. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off Suna’s face. Suna shook his head.

“Is it too much to ask if I can stay with you? I don’t want to risk giving this to my little sister and grandma.” His voice was quieter than he wanted, but he was wiped out. He cleared his throat and spit in the trash can. He was fading fast. All he wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep whatever bug this was off.

“Yeah okay. I’ll ask my Ma. Shouldn’t be too much of an issue since Tsumu’s sick too.” Osamu pulled out his phone and massaged Suna’s scalp. It felt so good that he leaned over and buried his face in Osamu’s stomach. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall asleep here. Hopefully Osamu’s mom would be okay with it and come quickly.

“Ma, can you come pick me and— no I’m not sick— well, if you’d just let me talk ya crazy—Ma I do have a good reason to be call— would ya stop talkin—yer damn right I’m being disrespectfu—Ma!” As Osamu argued with his mother over the phone (it was nothing new) Suna took inventory of his body.

There was no denying he was sick. That much was obvious. His head was pounding and his stomach still rolled and swirled uncomfortably. Shivers danced up and down his body, exacerbated by the sweat that coated his skin. He was sure that he had a fever. All of his limbs weighed him down and he didn’t think he had any sort of energy to move them. It was taking all he had to stay awake right now.

“Osamu-san!” The girl from before returned, the school nurse right behind her.

“Suna Rintaro, you poor boy. Caught that bug going around, I see,” he heard the nurse and pulled his face away from Osamu’s body. Blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision, he sniffed and stared at the old lady in front of him.

She stuck a thermometer in his mouth without saying a word and pulled a water bottle out from her coat pocket. While they were waiting for his temperature, Suna glanced at Osamu, who was now leaning against the desk behind Suna’s. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, his other still holding the phone to his ear as he continued listening to his mother rant.

Without thinking, Suna reached over and grabbed a hold of Samu’s shirt with one hand. Osamu looked down in surprise before his face softened and he put a hand on Suna’s shoulder.

The thermometer beeped and Suna winced.

“38.7,” the nurse read and pursed her lips. She pulled out some medicine from her lab coat and gave some to Suna. He grimaced. Even in his hazy state, he knew putting something in his stomach wouldn’t go over well.

“Suna-kun, you need to get that fever of your’s down. I know it’s not ideal, but please try.” Suna turned his head away. She sighed.

“Okay, but make sure you take something at home. Does someone need to call your mother?” Before Suna could answer, Osamu interrupted.

“I’ll take him ma’am,” he said, apparently off the phone with his mother.

“Osamu-kun, don’t you be thinking you can just skip out on school,” she warned.

“I would never,” Osamu charmed, “I think it’s the smartest move, ya see. Atsumu is at home with the same illness right now and so there’s no way I ain’t carrying the germs for it. Wouldn’t it be safest if I go home too? Before I infect anyone else. And I can take Sunarin with me.”

The nurse gave him a skeptical look, but then glanced over at Suna. She noticed his grip on Osamu’s shirt and the former’s hand firmly on Suna’s back. It must’ve made Suna look pretty pathetic because she relented almost immediately.

“Oh fine, fine. Does someone need to call your mom?”

“No, ma’am. Just got off the phone with her. She’ll be here soon. Said she’s got no problem taking Sunarin in ‘til he’s all better.” He squeezed Suna’s shoulder and Suna relaxed knowing he wasn’t at risk of infecting his little sister or aging grandmother. He sighed and smiled gratefully at Osamu.

It was comforting to know that Osamu was going to be looking after him. Because, if the swirling in his stomach told him anything, he was in for a really long night.

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Lingering Light

Author: @zettern​

For: @nadisabug​

Rating/Warnings: G

Prompt: fluffy confession

Author’s notes: I tried my best at being fluffy! I hope you enjoy it! :)

“Time passes so quickly.”

Two men sat outside the Jabberwock Island Library, with countless books scattered on a thin blanket. They spent the day together in silence, passing the time reading with an occasional conversation popping up. When they spoke, it was for shared information concerning the book in hand. They shared ideas and tossed around theories about the current state of the world. It was mostly about a world they no longer had access to, as they collectively decided to set their freedoms aside for the better. It was a permanent promise that was deserving, of course.

All the students cursed with the marking of the 77th class had nowhere else to go. No family to return to, no childhood friends and no other connections. They were simply wiped away from the face of the planet and the former students were left with each other. Although that was months ago, they had learned to grow accustomed to this normal.

The sun was falling, bathing the island with broken gold. Shade provided from the trees and garden shielded their eyes. It smelled faintly of sweat from the summer heat as well as the salty air from the beach. Two scents they have become well-acquainted with. And if a book was brought close enough, the moldy scent of old dog-eared pages would help in transporting them to a new world where there was more than an abandoned island.

Nagito and Hajime were sitting side by side, close enough to feel each other’s electric presence but far enough that they weren’t touching. Sweat was running down Hajime’s neck for two reasons. One: it was far too hot outside to not long for the modern air-conditioned room. Two: the setting sun was bouncing off Nagito, giving him an ethereal glow.

The corners of his lips were curled up softly as his eyes scanned the pages, the only escape from his own harsh reality. He didn’t bother to wipe the stray strands of hair that were partially blocking his vision. He was so entranced by the words, Hajime assumed he didn’t hear what he said mere moments ago. It was only during times like this when Nagito appeared to be at his happiest. Flicking through the pages in the silence that not even his luck cycle could disturb. All of this and Hajime couldn’t recall when he put his own book down to admire the man before him. What he wouldn’t give for Mahiru to capture this moment forever.

Their friendship had always been a rocky one, due to the unstable nature of their lives. But when they returned to the island, it was like Nagito reverted to the boy Hajime met on the beach in the simulation. He could easily recall the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore and the silhouette that stayed behind to keep him company. Hajime remembered the feeling of betrayal, the pain he experienced when he ran into the warehouse. He could never forget the lies and the truths all in the time they were locked in a simulation. He could never forget when he was the World Destroyer and the realization that Nagito desired nothing more than a peaceful life and to be loved. Sure the man was…odd about hope, but once Hajime recognized his struggles it made more sense.

It pained Hajime to think this burden of living the rest of their lives on Jabberwock Island was the closest thing to peace Nagito has had in years. This was true for all the inhabitants of the island, he supposed.

In this time, the two had gotten to understand each other better, writing over the hiccups caused by a stressful environment.

Nagito flipped the page of his book with his new arm. He released a soft sigh before resting his head on Hajime’s shoulder. Frozen, Hajime had to remind himself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It had grown to something more. Hajime’s face was no longer flushed from the heat. His heart was pounding in his chest and prayed Nagito wouldn’t hear it. Something Hajime wanted so badly to put into words to officiate whatever was going on between them. The wild clouds of Nagito’s hair tickled Hajime’s nose, threatening a sneeze. He was suddenly aware of how sweaty he had been all day.

Did Nagito take notice? Was he repulsed?

“It does.” Nagito said, folding in the page of his book and setting it aside.

“…What?” Hajime croaked. God, he sounded like a prepubescent boy. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What?” At least it sounded passable this time.

“Time. It does go quickly. It’s been months since we returned to Jabberwock Island. So much has changed since then.” Nagito studied his robotic arm, waving his artificial fingers around. Hajime’s heart danced at the knowledge that Nagito wasn’t ignoring his words, not that he ever did. “And even so, you spend each day with someone like me instead of enjoying your time with the others. Have you grown tired of me yet, Hajime?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t appreciate your company.” Hajime shifted slightly enough to get more comfortable in his position. “You should know this by now.” He took a leap and rested his head atop Nagito’s. He felt the other man tense up and Hajime immediately questioned whether or not he made a mistake by doing this. The sun sank further down into the horizon. Hajime kept his eyes closed, reveling in the moment, never wanting to lose it. Nagito soon relaxed under his weight.

“I wonder what bad luck will come my way for having this.” Nagito whispered. “My apologies, Hajime. I shouldn’t be burdening you with the thought of my luck cycle.” It was at those words that Hajime lifted his head, losing the physical closeness he wanted to keep. He couldn’t stand it when Nagito spoke of himself that way. Like he was no more useful than a stray leaf in the wind.

“It’s not a burden!” He defended a little too enthusiastically. “…Besides, with everything that has happened in your life, don’t you think you have nothing but good luck waiting for you?”  It was too idealistic of a claim. They both knew.

“That’s not exactly how my luck works, Hajime. I’m damned to be stuck in this cycle for the rest of my life. I’ve already come to terms with it.” Nagito sighed as he pulled away from Hajime. His greediness would only lead to bad luck after all.

“I k-know that!” Hajime turned, so that Nagito could turn around and look him straight in the eyes. “But with my talents…” He began. “My talents…can cancel out the bad luck…” He tried to continue but the words wouldn’t come out. His heart was pounding, threatening to break free at this point.

“The only way that could ever work is if you were constantly at my side. I doubt you’d want to bring that kind of misfortune upon yourself.” Nagito averted his gaze, choosing to focus on the flowers next to him. His prosthetic hand was digging into the dirt, fighting the urge to be wishful.

“…I wouldn’t mind.” Hajime finally dared to say part of what he always wanted to. The hint of the words he wanted to reciprocate before Nagito went and deceived everyone in the killing game.

“What could someone like me possibly have to offer to you?” Nagito finally looked up to meet Hajime’s eyes. Frantic at the implication of those words. “Someone as talented and popular as yourself has no need to waste time with trash.” He tugged at the sleeves of his worn jacket, curling into himself. It was always Hajime could be with someone better, Hajime should be with someone better or Hajime would be with someone different had they survived. It was never what he wanted.

Hajime reached out.

“You don’t have to offer anything!” He grasped his shoulders, Nagito could only stare at him wide-eyed. “Nagito, your presence alone is enough for me to be satisfied! How long is it going to take for you to understand that I care about you?” It grew silent. The only sounds came from the waves running onto the nearby shore and Nagito’s wild thoughts. Seconds ticked away, their gazes unwavering.

Hajime delicately took Nagito’s chin in his hand without thinking. He didn’t want Nagito to do what he always did and recoil into himself and his doubts. “I’ve grown to care about you so much it hurts.” Hajime’s voice was a tremor of an earthquake yet on the inside he felt the bellowing surge of a wave. “Every morning I wake up excited at the thought to spend time with you. I don’t care if we go the entire day without speaking, as long as you’re nearby I am satisfied.”

“How?” Nagito dropped his arms. “I have absolutely nothing to give.” He whispered. “I have no other purpose than to be used. Everything I have ever come to love, leaves me! I’m always left behind!” He was quivering like a lost dog on a rainy summer night. “Choosing to remain here with me is nothing but misfortune waiting to happen.” Did Nagito truly think that alone would scare Hajime away? They’ve been through hell already, so he was going to have to try harder than that.

“Then it’s a misfortune I want for the rest of my life.” Hajime gently cupped Nagito’s face in his hands. His eyes were brighter than all the stars beginning to sprinkle the sky. The hope in his eyes was clouded by a thick fog of doubt. Hajime wanted nothing more than to embrace him in this moment and remain that way for all eternity to clear any doubt.

“I can’t avoid these feelings any longer, Nagito. There is nothing I want more than to see you live an ordinary life and to spend it with you.” This was true from the moment they left the Neo World Program, it has been Hajime’s grandest wish. He wanted to wake up and see Nagito smiling for the right reasons filled with hope for a better future. He wanted to kiss away all the negativity just so they can finally have this chance to be happy.

Nagito stared into Hajime’s eyes in disbelief. Hajime could hear the shaky breaths escaping his lips. He swallowed. “You said you were in love with the hope sleeping within me. So why can’t I do the same?”

Nagito audibly gasped. “Hajime…” And before he had the chance to shut himself off in an attempt to avoid the situation, Hajime pressed their foreheads together. “Will you let me?” Hajime asked. The question seemed to work as his shaking slowly subsided and turned into soft nods. Nagito leaned further into the touch. Hajime watched as his eyes fluttered shut.  “Is… this really alright..?” Hajime tucked stray hairs away from Nagito’s face, lightly grazing his cheek in the process.

“Of course it is.” Hajime replied as he closed his eyes. He slowly inched forward, his mind racing.

Their lips met. This was something Hajime had dreamt of for what seemed like ages. From Nagito’s fear to trying not to grin like an idiot during their first kiss. Nothing could compare to the actuality of it. And how much better it felt to physically experience it instead of spending sleepless nights wondering about it.

Nagito’s lips were softer than he imagined. Hajime was near to melting on the spot as his heart pounded wildly in his chest. Nagito shuddered and slowly curled his fingers around Hajime’s waist, pulling him closer, never wanting it to come to an end. Time had stopped to listen to their dazed thoughts.

When they pulled apart, Nagito whispered three words that were music to Hajime’s ears. A song he would never tire of listening to. “I hope that’s okay.” He added.

“Always.” He felt so choked up and free.

The sun had long since disappeared. They were enjoying each other’s company in the moonlight filled with new promises. Books were forgotten, tossed aside for another time. Hajime was smiling ear to ear like an idiot as he listened to Nagito explain what he was reading earlier. No distance was placed between them. Nagito made sure, albeit hesitantly, to close any form of distance. And Hajime might as well have been soaring at the sound of Nagito’s voice. His presence. His steady breaths. His lips. The messy hair that got too close to his nose. The green jacket that he wore every day despite the heat. The memory of waking up on the beach. Nagito’s first attempt at a confession. The World Destroyer. Nagito finally waking up from the simulation. The boat ride back to Jabberwock Island.

Hajime loved and cherished it all.

The two lovers spent the rest of the night recounting all they have been through that brought them to this exact moment in their lives. And before they realized, the sun was creeping up from behind. They took it as a signal to pack up their belongings and return to their rooms. Not a wink of sleep and both men had never felt so awake.

That dawn, they walked hand in hand to the cottages for some well deserved peace.

[boogiewrites]

No. 9: The Body

Chapter One

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Eve, once a rebellious runaway had turned her life around through the help of others to now be a doctor. She tries to return the favor these days. When a mysterious man keeps popping up in her life, what will her natural talent for healing become when it finally meets someone else with abilities like hers? The introductory chapter.

Warnings/Tags: Meet Cute. Some medical/blood/injury stuff.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

From the view from her apartment window, only slightly obscured by the fire escape, Eve looked out on the gloomy sunrise falling over the New York City street below. The fog and steam from the light drizzle on the street grates blended with the haze of her coffee cup as she took a moment to gather herself, feel the calm at the moment before the chaos of her job began.

Eve was all about function over fashion these days. Her childhood had held many questionable punk ensembles and thrifted, or even stolen pieces that were worn down to bare threads. But now her clothes usually consisted of scrubs, so she opted for comfort usually. She savors the last of her coffee and the peace of her small home and makes her way out into the world to begin another long, chaotic 12-hour shift.

The phrase, “business as usual” couldn’t really apply to work in an Emergency Room but when you worked an ER in New York, literally anything could be called as such. So the day began, and so did the rush of decisions, needles, charts, and blood as the job called for. She changed out her off duty uniform of pants that compromised mostly of spandex. For the season warm fleece-lined leggings were her go-to currently. Her boots needed replacing, as she’d bought new sneakers for work but neglected her everyday ones. What a metaphor for her life that was. You couldn’t really wear anything but boots in the city winter as the mess on the streets would seep through anything else. She peeled off her layers of a tank top, t-shirt, hoodie, and jacket to stuff into her locker and got into her sterile looking and feeling scrubs that served as her protection from whatever the wild night of New York emergency room drama would unfold. “Doctor Corpuz to the ER please.” She heard the intercom over her headphones. It was already starting. —

The night had been average, traffic accidents, assault, chest pains, overdose, nothing that would throw Eve off her game. Her years of residency had assured that. As usual, she became drained the longer the night went on, hitting the caffeine hard to make it through the last hours.

“Uh, hey, Eve we’ve got this guy in room 3 and he’s being…. a bit belligerent,“ the woman rolled her eyes as she casually leaned on the counter “He’s scaring the intern, you might wanna go help deescalate.” A half-smile that made it clear that the news delivered was something said more times than either of them could count now. “Since you’re so good at it and all.” She cracks her gum and even though it’s delivered sarcastically, the jab was actually true.

“Ugh.. why do I have to be the one that’s good at this?” She huffs and shrugs with heavy arms as she throws a playful pout her friend’s way. “Why can’t you just go yell at them? It sure scares me.” Eve quips as she stretches to prepare herself.

“I already did and he did not respond well to authority so… in you go Mr. Rogers.” She hits Eve on the shoulder with the patient’s file and she dramatically grasps it.

“Tired of being good cop. Let me yell at the next one alright?” She says back as she walks away.

“Got it Doc.” She answers as she begins to walk away.

Eve takes a deep breath and focuses before entering the room, trying to bring up that positive side of herself for the task at hand.

“I told you what I told ya, alright?” She could see from the chart and the bleeding man lying on a bed in front of her in a stance all black and leather ensemble. Her first thought was oh god what did he get stabbed with? He looks like he’s been at some BDSM party that went south, in the bad sense, and fast. It was multiple stab wounds to the abdomen and he was ready to be sewn up but wasn’t agreeing to be still despite the pain medicine he’d been given.

“Hey, dude we can we just shhh a little? Bring down the volume a touch?” She asks as the black-haired man turned his head her way. His dark brown eyes were glazed and he was clearly feeling the pain pills. A heavy brow lay low and angry as he sized her up a bit slower than he was accustomed to.

“Who are you?” He asks with a bite.

“I could ask you the same thing. I’m the ER Doctor tonight, Eve Corpuz. And you are?”

“I’m nobody.” He answers at a lower volume.

“Well Nobody, looks like I’ve got to stitch you up. Would you mind if I got to it?” She snaps on her gloves as the nurse pushes a tray with her instruments on it towards her.

“I need to get out of here.” He says, voice now at a more acceptable volume.

“If you let me sew you up you’ll be out of here right after and then we’ll all be happy, alright?” She gives smile his way that was softer than her tone. “I think I’ve got it from here Sherry. I won’t be needing any help will I Nobody? I can sew you up real quick and we can get on with our nights? Since you seem so busy and all?”

He looks to the other nurse and back to the doctor, muscles still tense but in a much more passive body language. “Yeah…okay.” He nods and his clearly scowling eyes kept on the nurse.

“Alright we’re good here. I’ll finish up and you can get Mr. Nobody here some pain control to take home ready?”

“I’ll be back in with the forms.” She responds, another way to let the doctor know she would be close by. After a shared nod, they said, “Yes I’m sure.” She was left alone with the scowling stranger.

“I don’t like her.” He pointed and laid back down on the table.

“That’s fair.” Eve shrugs, seeing a calm and casual approach was working best. “I just want to get you as best prepared as I can to heal up well, alright? I’m not gonna hound you for info like they were. That’s not my job.” She gives a humorous smile as she preps the areas on his stomach.

He blinks at her, looking down at her hands as she touches the wounds, and his nose twitches from pain. He says nothing as his attention is averted and her tone not aggressive and being reasonable with him.

“This part is gonna hurt. I’m not gonna bullshit you alright? But it’s not as bad as being stabbed so… Got me?”

His eyes meet hers. his round and partially, deep-set against full dark brows and goatee against his brown skin. “What kind of doctor says bullshit?” He asks with a head tilt.

“The kind that gets shit done.” She smiles and shrugs. “I’ve been on the other side of this situation before, I know it sucks and I’m not here to be the bad guy. I’m not a snitch… a narc or whatever, I’m just Eve and I wanna help. Because I know what it’s like.” She says earnestly and he doesn’t detect any bullshit as she’d said. He could read people, and he found her a little odd but… genuine.

“You been stabbed before?”

“I have.” She nods. “It fuckin hurts doesn’t it?” She laughs and nods, testing the equipment.

“Yeah. It does.” He gives a huff with a more relaxed expression before wincing.

“Where did you get stabbed?” He asks, brain still trying to read her.

“In the arm.” She nods casually.

“Ow.”

“Yeah ow.” She smiles he continues keeping her focus on cleaning up her space and open her tools.

“Why?” he asks.

“Why did you get stabbed?” she gives him a no-nonsense glance

“I was saving a cat from a tree.” his testy tone was full of pain med induced confidence.

“So did the tree stab you or the cat stab you with a 4-inch blade?”

“The cat.” He responds was as snarkily as she had in their back and forth.

“Mean cat.” She replies with a more casual smile as they begin to feel each other out.

“Yeah. He was a real asshole.”

She begins tapping the area and he doesn’t react. “Think we’re good now. Don’t move, please?”

“Kay.” He nods and lets his head fall back. As she works he watches her face. “So how did you get stabbed?”

“Would you believe a cat got me too?”

He gives a little confused smile. “I wouldn’t actually.”

“Then we have that in common.”

He grunts in appreciation for her attitude. Guess he’d have to work harder to figure her out. She looked warm, yet severe and her faded tattoos peeking out from her collar and sleeves were proving very interesting to him. She didn’t look or more interestingly feel like a doctor to him. He was used to pretending to be things he wasn’t, but if she was, she was better than him at it.

“Looks like I need to get more stuff.” She mutters, looking around the room. She covers two of three wounds and sighs. “I’ll be right back okay?”

“Okay.” He says with a face that she believed. But it wasn’t the first time her caring nature would’ve been taken advantage of, and the entertaining stranger was gone when she returned to the room. Nothing but the blood left behind and a warm indent on the bed. He was good, she thought. Actually, she was downright impressed he got past her. It’d be a headache for paperwork later but a good story to tell at least.

————————————

The next night the stranger named Nobody was the farthest thing from Eve’s mind. She was enjoying her take out, the container in hand, and chopsticks tapping to the playlist titled “classical: chill”. She’d made it to play when she studied in school and during residency and apparently she’d conditioned herself to be more relaxed while she played it.

The sun had just gone down and the winter chill was heavy around her windows. In her functional fashion, she wore sweats and slippers and layers topped with a hoodie. She was swaying and focusing on how good cold lo mein could be. The light of her standing lamp illuminating the solid rectangle of open space that was her kitchen and living room. Much like her fashion, it was cozy and functional. Nothing brash or bold, just neutral colors and lots of comforts.

Eve was winding down to sleep off her last shift, making some time to eat and enjoy herself before having to get back to it the next morning. Her dark hair was damp and twisted on top of her head, glasses mended with floss sat unsecured on her nose as she ate with her eyes closed. During the weeks where she had close shifts she usually took it easy on herself, her hours could vary wildly, and sometimes that worked in her advantage and sometimes it didn’t. But it wasn’t anything new to her. She figured if she made it through residency she could make it through anything, and right now the coziness, the juxtaposition of inside her little warm home and the biting January cold that lay just outside the windows. They sat with curtains that fell ceiling to floor, mostly drawn. Being on the third floor she had never been too worried about anyone seeing into her windows. But perhaps she should have been.

That, forgotten in this moment, Nobody was taking full advantage of the small space left by the curtains. He peered in, watching her. He drummed his gloved fingers over two healed fresh scared marks near his ribs. He could find anything sinister about her. She wasn’t any sort of plant in the hospital and she wasn’t there looking for him. She seemed like a nice enough woman actually, but he knew there had to be something he was missing.

He continued this for days. He would follow her around, trying to figure out what her deal was. He’d become a bit preoccupied with it, as was his nature. Since his return to the city, he’d been going from vigilante case to case to distract himself. It felt like old times in fleeting moments, but when the chaos that had surrounded him recently came rushing back at him, he wasn’t one to wallow in his sadness. Rather it hung around as he decided to go back to doing the thing he knew best. Without connects at the police anymore he was left with that familiar feeling of being a lone wolf . He still wasn’t sure how he felt about it, and it wasn’t on his list of things to contemplate soon. So a mystery woman, ironically enough was what the doctor ordered when it came to distractions.

So far she was pretty boring. As far as people with powers went, he guesses. She liked coffee, take out. Nothing that interesting, except that he was now totally healed, scarred and the pain was only a memory. She was a doctor, sure, but he’d never healed that fast in his life. He’d worked himself up to conspiracy theories of her using some new medicine that was being tested on civilians without their knowledge. But he found nothing of the sort. There wasn’t a lot on her when he searched her name. First-year doctor at a hospital, went to medical school and college, what you’d expect. She spent most of her time working, goes out with some women she works with on occasion, then went home. No following her to a seedy alley for a secret meeting or her making coded phone calls. No, she was just a woman who left her curtains open and he felt like he’d hit a wall on the investigation. So for now, she remained a collection of scribbled notes in his apartment.

His other antics, most that involved fighting and men with guns and knives, understandably led to frequent injuries for him, most ones he could handle. But it just so happened next time he got really hurt, he knew exactly which doctor to go to.

—————

Eve got there early, a shoulder gunshot wound and a split open brow. A not unusual combination. She approached the room, and no one but her seemed to recognize the man that lay in the bed.

She noticed he looked almost relieved at the sight of her, which she wasn’t used to.

“I got it.” She says a nod to the nurse as he approaches him.

“Listen, Doc you gotta get me out of here.” He begins.

“Yeah I knew that was you…” she gives him a side-eye. “I think you need either new hobbies or new friends because this is the second time in what… a month you’re in here?

“You do recognize me.”

“Of course I do you know how much of a pain in the ass paperwork is when you disappear?”

“No.”

“Clearly since you ran last time.” She says more severely as she begins the usual process again.

“Look, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Nothing personal.” he offers with a shake of his head. “ This time there’s gonna be cops and you can’t let them in here. They’ll see me and arrest me and I don’t want that.”

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why do they want to arrest you?”

“Because they think I did something.”

“Did you…?”

“No.”

She considers his eyes for a moment, whether he was being honest or not. “…What’s your name?”

“So you can tell the cops, yeah no thanks.”

“Fair…Then tell me how you got stabbed.” It was more of a demand than a request. A terms of service agreement for her involvement.

“I was after a bad guy and he fought back, then more bad guys showed up and one of them got me.” his response was as vague as he could get away with, they both knew that.

“You’re the good guy in this instance?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you some undercover…something-er-other?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Just a wanted criminal?”

“Wanted. Not a criminal.”

She sighs and he hisses as she begins to work on him. He notices her lips purse and her eyes making a decision beyond watching the work she was doing?

“Doctor Corpuz, there are some policemen that want to ask you some questions.

“Tell them I’m finishing up a procedure, to stay by the front desk and I’ll be out.”

“Yes, Doctor.” the nurse bows.

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

She stays quiet, finishing up sewing and reaching for a bandage. “Yeah.” she nods.

“Good, I didn’t want to have to hurt you.”

She swings her eyes his way in a clear glare that told him she did not find his joke funny. “You aren’t helping your case any random nobody who’s been stabbed multiple times in the past month. You clearly are good at making decisions, maybe I should tell them about you.” she retorts with more sting and she gives his stomach a harsher pat before moving away.

“Uh…it was..it would be funny if you knew me. I don’t want to hurt you…Eve Corpuz.” he glances at the tag and then her face.

“No, we’re back on a Doctor-patient relationship now.”

“But you’re still gonna help me get out?”

“Yes, fuck, I said I would already.” she shakes her head at him and motions for him to sit up. “I’ll have them at the front desk and distract them, and you go out the back way. You’ll get some attention, but not from them.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re the coolest doctor they’ve ever met?”

“They haven’t actually. Usually, they’re too busy screaming in pain when we meet.” she cleans the space and begins to walk out the door as he catches her wrist.

“Thanks. Doctor. Eve. Whatever.”

“Well, you’ll owe me I guess. What good that does me when I don’t even know you’re name, huh? Just get out as quietly as possible, alright? Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.” he nods and releases his grip on her.

[smalltowndetective]

31 Days of Wayhaven-Feral

@31daysofwayhaven

Tried something I bit different narratively for this one, I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Ao3 Link

Title: Patience

Pairing: Mason and Mariana “Mari”

Words:2.5k

Warnings: Mild descriptions of blood and injury

“I’m sure you know why you’re here, Detective Gonzales”

Mariana looked down at her hands, swollen and red, with the start of bruises forming on every visible part of her skin, and she could already feel the bruises forming every else on her body.

She looked back up to someone she had just met today, but she was told they were a higher-up in the Agency, and she tried to steady her breathing, but she had not been able to catch her breath for the past few hours.

“What do you want me to say?”, she asked, the bite forming in her voice as almost a protective measure.

“I’m not trying to fight with you, Detective”, they answered calmly, “All I need is for you to explain what happened”.

“Are you not going to tell me how he is until I do or is there another reason for keeping this a secret for me?”, she growled, frustration filling her voice.

“I have not received word on how Specialist Agent Mason is doing”, they said as if she was not getting angry at all, “As soon as I do, you are the first person I will tell. I have no reason to keep that a secret from you”.

They took a pause, and when Mariana said nothing, they continued, “Just run me through what happened. You’re not losing your place in the Agency for this”

“Because that’s what I care about right now”, she scoffed.

“I have heard much about your mistrust of the Agency, Detective”, they said calmly, “But your own personal opinion does not affect our opinion of you. All I am asking is for you just tell me what happened. This is not an investigation, there is no reason to keep any secrets from me”.

“Fine”, Mariana spat, “If it will get you and every other Agency member off my back”.

She took a deep breath, and allowed herself to get lost in the memory again, even with her brain begging her not to.

~~~~

               “They should have been back a long time ago”, Mariana heard Mason huff.

               The rest of the team had gone ahead to scout the premises, leaving the two of them alone. They were at the edge of Wayhaven in the middle of the woods, the sun almost having completely set in the horizon, the light fading faster and faster.

               “They’ll be fine”, Mariana said confidently, “As long as they stick together”.

               Mason snorted, “When did you become such a team player?”

               “I can be a team player”, she replied with a smile on her lips, “With the right team, of course. I’m sure you of all people would know that”.

               A smirk formed on his face, “Oh, don’t I, sweetheart?”

               Before Mariana could answer, Mason’s face suddenly changed into a sneer, “Get down”.

               “Why?”, she hissed, but she did as she was told, and Mason dropped down to the ground with her.

               “Someone’s coming”

               “And what makes you think it’s not the rest of the team?”, she whispered.

               Mason did not give her an answer, but the hardened gaze in his grey eyes was enough for her to know that it was not.

               “We know you’re here, Detective”, said a booming voice, “You might as well stop hiding”.

               Well, shit.

               “It will only be a matter of seconds before the rest of your team is captured”, they continued, “You might as well reveal yourself”.

               Mason suddenly grabbed her wrist, as if he was telling her to stay, and then he got up and walked over to the direction of the voice.

               “Ah, Agent Mason. I was wondering where you were”, that same voice said again, “Give up the Detective, and I’ll let the rest of your team go”.

               “Not a chance”, he growled, and Mariana felt herself tense. She was not going to let him face this alone, even if he had told her to stay and though she knew that she was no diplomat, there had to be something that she could do. She was not going to just sit and hide here.

               “We don’t need to fight”, she said as level as she could as she walked over to Mason, making sure to eye the gun and volt that was strapped to her hip. As went to stand next to him, he put his arm out in front of her, as if telling her to stay back.

               “Oh Detective”, the voice continued, and Mariana saw it was the leader of the trappers that she had the unfortunate time meeting during the mission to save Sanja, standing there with six other trappers, “We are far past peaceful resolutions”.

               She could barely keep up with what happening, but before she could even blink, the air filled with a haze of red fog, and it did not take much of her to realize what it was.

               DMB- Dead Man’s Blood

               Mason gave a hacking cough at the fog, and even though DMB had no effect on humans, it was getting harder and harder to see, and Mariana gripped his shoulder tightly, as if he would disappear if she did not.

               One of the trappers came close to her, swinging at her head, and she dodged it, before throwing her own blow right back at them, their face covered, all she was able see was a pair of light brown eyes.

               In the midst of everything, she had gotten separated from Mason, who was phenomenally still on his feet and fighting despite the DMB, and by the time the crimson fog had cleared, she heard a loud crack like a gunshot, and she heard someone fall to the ground.

               Mariana realized in horror that it was Mason.

               After that, all else was forgotten, and she fought her way over to him, a trapper dangerously close to him, and she scarcely remembered dragging them off before kneeling down to his side.

               Later on, she would wonder why no one tried to attack her at this moment, but as she stared at the now gaping hole in Mason’s stomach, blood soaking his shirt in a thick layer, immediately putting her hands over the wound, expecting it to heal at any second.

               But it did not.

               That is when the details got fuzzy, and all Mariana could remember was swinging at anyone that got close to her, her hands still soaked in Mason’s blood, hearing him struggling to breathe, as she took out all of the trappers with her own hands, never reaching for her gun or volt and even though they definitely managed to get some blows on her from the bruises that were starting to form on every part of her, she still was able to knock each one of the trappers out. She hardly understood how she was able to do so all by herself, but she supposed that it was adrenaline only that kept her standing.

               “Mason”, she whispered, finally kneeling down back at his side, her heart roaring so hard that it was all that she could hear, and she saw him weakly move his eyes at the sound of his name.

               “You’re going to be alright”, she said, her hands still covering the open wound that was still refusing to heal.

               You have to be.

               At this point, the blood now covered up to her wrists, and she saw Mason’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

               No…No…

               “Mason”, she whispered at first, but it was not quiet for long, her voice almost turning into a scream, “Mason! Mason!”

               I can’t lose him, not like this.

               “Please don’t leave me”, she begged, a sob forming in her throat, and before she knew it, she had tears at the edge of her eyes, something that she had not had for years.

               “Mari!”

               She turned to look up at the noise, to see Felix come running up to her, panic forming in his expression as he came bounding up to them.

               “What happened?”

               Mariana did all she could to form a response, but anything that she tried to say just got caught in her throat, and all that came out was just a choke of emotion.

      ��        Adam and Nate were not far behind Felix, and she could barely see the panic in their expressions, her own eyes so full with tears that stung as if they were made of glass.

               “We need to get him out of here”, Nate said, his voice calm, but the worry in his eyes evident, to which Adam nodded in response.

               “Detective, you need to let him go. He’ll be fine once we get him back to the Agency”.

               She felt herself freeze, unable to move, and Adam firmly grabbed her shoulder to push her back, and in her shocked state, she spun around and tried to punch him in the face, but tiredness had already overtaken her, so he dodged in easily, still holding on to her rigidly, and Nate picked Mason up before disappearing back into the forest.

               Adam finally let go of her, and she slumped to the ground at his support gone, and she could see Felix walk over to her as her eyes went back to her bloodstained hands.

               “Hey, Mari”, he said gently, trying to get her to look at him, “It’s all going to be okay”.

               No, it’s not.

               Maybe if she had just stayed hidden, maybe this would not have happened. If she had thought to take out the leader first, if she had-

               “It’s not your fault”, she heard Felix say, but it was if she was listening from underwater, the words just barely audible.

               Yes, it is.

               You’re a failure. You’ll never be able to save ones that you care about.

               She got the sudden desire to yell at him and tell him to leave her alone, but she did not, instead trying to keep the tears from falling down her face, Mariana’s eyes still fixated on the blood on her hands.

               Mason’s blood

               “Alright, we’ll bring her back”, Adam’s voice cut in, and she turned to see hang up his phone and shove it back in his pocket.

               “We need to leave”, he said, turning to her, “We’ll bring all the trappers back to the Agency”.

               All fight at that point had left her, so she got up, trying to tear her eyes away from the scene, doing her best to focus on Adam in front of her.

~~~

“Then what happened?”, the Agency Higher-Up asked.

“They took me back to the Agency”, Mariana said, her voice starting to shake, “And I spent what had to have been hours trying to wash the blood off my hands. No one would tell me how he was, and I ended up yelling at Elidor before I was told to go here”.

“And you did”.

“I was told if I wanted information, I would have to talk to you”, Mariana continued, frustration rising in her voice “But I have not gotten any since I came here, so I’m going to assume that was a lie”.

“What I don’t understand”, they said, ignoring her last comment, “Is how you managed to take on all six trappers by yourself?”

“To be honest, I don’t know how”, she replied, “All I can say is that adrenaline overtook me. My whole memory of the event is hazy”.

They nodded, “It was an intense situation, there is no doubt about that. I cannot fault you for the actions that you took”.

A knock at the office door distracted Mariana from answering, and the door opened to her shock, Tapeesa.

“I have Elidor’s report”, she whispered, giving a small smile at her, and she handed it to the higher-up, and it took all of Mariana’s self-control not to rip it out of her hands.

“Specialist Agent Mason will be alright”, they said after reading through the report, “He will just need time to heal”.

She felt herself give such a big sigh of relief that it caused her whole body to slump, and they continued, “However, Elidor has not opened his room up for visitors”.

At any other time, she had may have fought against that, but at the moment, she could care less, letting the fear that had overwhelmed her these past few hours to subside, just a little.

“Does he know why Mason was not healing?”

They shook their head, a frown on their lips, “Unfortunately, no. But they are looking into that now” They then turned to Tapeesa, who had been standing quietly, “You’re free to go, Tapeesa”.

She left, and Mariana turned back to them, “Am I able to go too, or-?”

“I’ve gotten what I needed from you”, they responded, “But, if you need anything, Detective Gonzales, I will do my best to help you in any way that I can”.

“Thanks”, she said, barely looking at them, and leaving the office in an almost sprint.

Mariana made her way to the hospital wing in the Agency, looking into the windows to see if she could find Mason.

And she did, his eyes closed in the hospital bed, IVs hooked up to his wrist, and she noticed that a cut on his head had still not healed.

Even though she wanted to enter and ignore what she was told, she realized that she could not.

It’s your fault he’s here now.

She wanted to leave, run until she collapsed, anything to get away from the scene before her, but it was like she was frozen, and she could not look away.

In her own nervousness, she ran her fingers over the snapdragon tattoo on the inside of her right arm, trying to distract herself from the feelings that threatened to spill over.

“Mariana”

She turned to see Rebecca walking over to her, and she could feel herself tense almost against her will at her arrival.

“Look, I really can’t take being interrogated again right now”

“I’m not here to talk to you about what happened”

“You’re not?”, she asked in honest surprise.

“You’ve had enough of that today I’m sure”, she answered.

Mariana sighed, and she moved her gaze back to Mason, her heart tightening as she did so, “This is all my fault”.

“It is not”, Rebecca said firmly, leaving no room for discussion, “You did what you had to in such a situation. No one can fault you for that”.

She looked down at the ground, not fully believing her, and Rebecca moved her hand on her shoulder, but gently enough that she could pull away if she wanted.

“I know this has been really rough on you, and I know that you need time”, she whispered, “But if you want me to, I’ll be here in any way you’ll have me”.

All Mariana could do was to give a weak nod at the statement, staring at Mason through the glass, her heart feeling like it had fallen to her feet.

I’ll find some way to fix this Mason. I promise.

[too-gay-for-marvel]

chipped ceramic mug

Word Count: 1006

Warnings: none

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

There was something about the early mornings that gave Wanda a sense of peace she couldn’t find any other time. That time before the sun rises when everything is still asleep and the world is starting to wake. It was quiet enough for her to relax and enjoy a cup of tea.

But this morning was different. Instead of peace she felt anxious and unsure of herself. It had been her first night to stay at your apartment; you had always come to the Tower if you wanted to visit. But now she was out of her comfort zone, and she didn’t know what to do.

When she had first woken up - an instinct at this point - she had completely forgotten where she was. But when she felt your arm draped over her waist and opened her eyes to an unfamiliar view, she remembered very quickly. There was no way she could go back to sleep, though, because she was awake and her mind wanted the peace of the morning.

As much as Wanda loved the feeling of just being in your arms, she needed to get going. She couldn’t stay still and do nothing, not when it was the best time of the day. She grabbed your hand and gently lifted your arm off of her so she could scoot out, kissing the back of your hand before setting it down on the bed. You sighed heavily and she worried she had woken you up, but you didn’t move after that. You were still asleep.

She watched you for a few moments, taking note of the steady rise and fall of your chest and the peaceful look on your face. You were always so serious during the day, so focused, but at night? It was like you were a completely different person, and Wanda loved to see you finally relax; even if you were asleep.

It wasn’t long after she sat down on the windowsill, tea in hand, that she heard you wake. While this may have been her first stay at your apartment, you two had been together long enough for her to recognise the signs: sheets rustling, feet hitting the floor, the door opening. And then you were in the doorway, rubbing your still-asleep eyes.

Seeing you like this - in your brother’s uni sweater and Deadpool boxers - made her heart swell. It was a you that no one but her got to see. No one else got to see you shuffling around your apartment with your eyes still half-closed. No one else got to hear you curse silently when you stub your toe on the couch. Again. No one else got to watch you open and close cabinets, trying to find the coffee as if you had never been here before.

And no one else got to spend a quiet morning with you.

You grabbed your chipped Avengers mug and moved to sit next to her. You both sat on opposite sides of the window sill so your legs were touching. She gave you a soft smile which you returned before you rested your head on the window and closed your eyes. If you fell back to sleep, your coffee was going to get cold. Wanda smiled to herself as she imagined you swearing up and down at your coffee mug.

It was only quiet for a few moments before Wanda could hear your thoughts whispering in the back of her mind. The birds aren’t even awake, this should be illegal. She wanted to laugh and tell you that no one had made you wake up. As much as she loved your company, it definitely wouldn’t have hurt her feelings if you had stayed in bed.

But then she noticed your thoughts slowing down until there was nothing but silence. At first she thought you had fallen back asleep, but when she glanced at you she found you looking out the window. The only noise coming from you shifting or drinking your coffee. Wanda knew how many thoughts ran through your head on a daily basis, so she couldn’t help but question why you had grown silent…

“You’re too quiet,” Wanda whispered. You turned to look at her but stayed leaning against the window.

“Is that a problem?” You asked, no malice in your voice. Just simple curiosity.

“You’re never quiet,” Wanda teased. You rolled your eyes and smiled softly before looking back at her.

“You like the silence,” you said with a shrug. “I can shut up for a little while.”

And Wanda felt her heart swell at your words. She remembered telling you about her mornings after one of your dates when you just stayed in and watched a movie. It was hard to remember how it had come up, but she had told you how much she loved the peacefulness of the mornings before everyone was up. And now you were both here, enjoying the silence because you had listened. Someone had actually listened to her.

From that morning on, you joined her in her morning ritual.

Sometimes you would sit in silence, listening to the world and sipping on your coffees or teas with your mug. Other times you would be up cooking breakfast and Wanda would listen to the sizzling of eggs. On the rare occasion you would even sit and play at the antique piano in your apartment. Half the keys were stuck and it was terribly out of tune, but it was you, and that was all that mattered.

Now that you were gone, it was too quiet. There was no gentle hum of the coffee maker, no clink of mugs as you tried to find your favourite one. She couldn’t feel your legs rubbing against hers or see your breath fogging up the window. All she had was your sweater - which wasn’t even yours to begin with - and that stupid chipped ceramic mug you couldn’t go without.

You needed to get home from your brother’s house soon. The silence was starting to become unbearable.

[tsuki-chibi]

Blackberries (Adrinette April) Day 19: Rain

Or see it on AO3: Blackberries 

--------

When Adrien awoke the next morning, he didn't jump out of bed immediately. He took a few minutes to lay there, staring up at the ceiling and remembering the very pleasant time he and Miel had spent on the tower. Pleasant... but also, in a way, bittersweet. As cute as Marinette looked while transformed with the Bee miraculous, they both missed Plagg and Tikki deeply. It just wasn't the same traversing Paris as Miel and Tromper. Much as he hated to admit, Adrien thought he understood now what Trixx had meant when he called Adrien a kitten.

"Are you getting up?" Trixx asked, and Adrien rolled over to see Trixx staring at him from Adrien's desk. He smiled lazily at the kwami. Marinette was still sleeping, and the quiet contentment rolling through the bond was peaceful.

"Yeah, I am," Adrien said, though he made no move to get up. Fatigue weighed down his bones. He really shouldn't have stayed out as late as he had. The sun had been maybe a couple of hours away from cresting the horizon when he'd crawled in his bedroom window. The make-up artists were going to be outraged when they caught sight of the deepening bags under his eyes.

"You could just stay in bed all day," Trixx said.

"Now you sound like Plagg," Adrien said, amused. How many times had Plagg suggested the same thing? Though when it came to Plagg, it was less out of concern for Adrien's welfare and more for the fact that Plagg was, at heart, a lazy cat who liked nothing better than cheese and a day in bed. Unfortunately, Plagg had gotten stuck with a holder who rarely had the luxury of a full night's sleep, never mind the time to spend daylights hour under the covers.

Trixx snickered. "Yeah, I hear that a lot. Wayzz complains that Plagg and I are too much alike for his sanity," he said, violet eyes twinkling with mischief.

Adrien contemplated that for a moment. "You're lazy and destructive too?" he asked after a moment.

"Nah, but I am a fox. I like to play tricks," Trixx replied. "That often creates chaos, and chaos and destruction go hand-in-hand. The last time Plagg and I had fun together, we created the Grand Canyon."

"That's... horrifying," Adrien said after a slow blink.

Trixx gave him a wicked smile. "No, it was fun. I'd like see to Plagg again..."

"I'm not sure Paris can handle that," Adrien muttered.

"Adrien?"

His heart thudded against his ribs as he shot upright. "Yes, Nathalie?" he called out, motioning for Trixx to hide.

'What? What?!' Sensing his panic, Marinette came awake in a confused flounder. Adrien quickly sent a pulse of reassurance her way.

"You need to be ready within two hours for the show. You can practice piano after you have breakfast," said Nathalie. Thankfully, she didn't open the door - both because she would've seen Trixx and because Adrien couldn't resist making a face in her direction.

'Oh,' Marinette thought, slumping back against her pillows with a groan.

"Thanks Nathalie," Adrien said with forced politeness, swinging his legs over the bed. "I'm not hungry right now, though. I'll get something later."

"Very well," Nathalie said. "Then you should start your practice now."

"Right," Adrien muttered. If he listened hard, he could hear the click of her heels against the hardwood as she strode away. He shook his head. Naturally, he had zero intentions of practicing the piano this morning. He and Marinette had plans. But that was alright. It had been sometime since he'd set up his iPod to play music while he was out. And since he'd practiced for a while last night, he didn't feel bad.

'What a wake-up call,' Marinette thought. 'I thought for sure you were being attacked!'

'Sorry, I panicked. Sometimes Nathalie just opens my door and Trixx was right out in plain sight,' Adrien thought, glancing around for the kwami. He finally spotted Trixx, now curled up at the top of one of his bookcases.

'Right,' Marinette thought. 'Well, I guess I'm awake now. I'm going to go see if Maman will let me go.'

'Wait and I'll come over. Maybe she'll be more inclined to let you go if I'm there too,' Adrien thought, climbing out of bed. He got dressed, did his hair, and brushed his teeth, knowing that Marinette was also getting ready. When he was finished, he locked his door, set up his iPod with the classical music playlist, and walked over and pulled open the curtains. Far from the bright, sunny day of yesterday, it was overcast and drizzling. Heavy fog hung over the streets of Paris. Adrien made a face.

"Now see, if I were Plagg, I'd flat out refuse to go out in that," Trixx said from behind him.

"You are not wrong," Adrien said. "Would you do it for a cranberry-blueberry scone? Marinette's papa makes the most amazing scones."

Trixx's eyes gleamed. "You've got yourself a deal."

"Trixx, let's pounce!" Adrien whispered. Orange light washed over him, briefly illuminating the room. Tromper then opened the window and stepped up onto the ledge, wincing as a fine mist sprayed his face. He might be a fox right now, but the cat side of him wasn't terribly pleased by the weather either.

He jumped off the ledge and quickly made his way towards Marinette's house, landing in an alley about a block away. He detransformed, tucked Trixx into his pocket, and walked the rest of the way while mentally following the conversation between Marinette and her maman. As predicted, Sabine wasn't crazy about the idea of her daughter going out so soon after being grounded. The words "you should have thought of that before going out during an akuma attack" were uttered just as Adrien opened the bakery door and walked inside. Both mother and daughter looked up at him.

"Oh, Adrien!" Sabine said in surprise.

"Hi," Adrien said, running a hand through his hair and grimacing when it came away damp. "Marinette, are you ready?"

Marinette winced. "I don't think I can come today, Adrien, I'm sorry. I should have called you before you came, but I was hoping that something might change at the last minute." She shot her maman a pointed look.

It wasn't hard to conjure up some disappointment, since he was well used to no one coming to his shows. Adrien pasted on a smile. "Oh, I see. That's okay. Thanks for trying."

"You have a show today, Adrien?" Sabine asked him. "Will your father be there?"

"Probably not," Adrien said honestly. "My father doesn't really like to go out in public. He usually sends Nathalie in his place to make sure that everything is done properly. Sometimes Nathalie brings along a tablet so my father can see what's going on through Facetime... so I guess sometimes he's there? Though I really prefer when he's not, because things go so much more smoothly otherwise..."

Sabine frowned. "I see."

"But that's okay. I'm used to it," Adrien went on, shrugging. "I just thought Marinette might like to come because she loves fashion so much... and it would've been nice to have a friend in the audience."

'You're laying it on a little thick,' Marinette thought.

He ignored her, adding, "Sorry, I'll go." He turned towards the windows and did a quick double-take when he realized that, during his couple minutes inside the bakery, it was started raining hard.

"You need an umbrella. I'll get you one," Marinette said with another look at her maman. She disappeared upstairs.

"Have you eaten yet?" Sabine asked him. Then, without waiting for him to respond, she added, "Pick out whatever you like, Dear."

"I wouldn't mind a cranberry-blueberry scone," Adrien said shyly.

"Of course!" Sabine took three of the scones and slid them into a paper bag, handing them to him. She shook her head when Adrien reached for his wallet and sternly told him that he wasn't going to pay for it.

"Thank you," Adrien said, touched. He clutched the bag to his chest as Marinette returned with an umbrella.

"Have a good show," Marinette said softly, handing him the umbrella.

"Oh, for goodness' sake. Just go, Marinette. But you're to be home immediately after, understand?" Sabine said.

Marinette lit up. "Really?! Thank you, Maman!" She kissed Sabine's cheek, hooked her arm through Adrien's, and literally dragged him out the door. Adrien got the umbrella up just in time to keep them both from getting soaked. The bakery door swung shut behind them, leaving them out in the chill and damp, but Adrien couldn't keep himself from grinning in triumph.

'Laying it on too thick, huh?' he thought smugly, and she snorted and elbowed him as she grabbed the umbrella.

‘Yeah, yeah, they love you and would spoil you rotten given half a chance. Now let’s go. I want to see Tikki!’ she thought, pulling him forward. Adrien opened the bag, broke a scone in half and slipped half to Trixx before stuffing the other half in his mouth as he followed.

[wingsofkpop]

Finding SKZ - 7: JH00

pairing(s): Hybrid!Bang Chan x Reader, Hybrid!SKZ x Reader

genre: Hybrid!AU, Dystopian!AU, heavy heavy heavy Angst, smudge of Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, violence, blood and gore, sexual themes, abuse, mentions of death, flashbacks, possible triggering topics 

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains explicit scenes of abuse and violence. Please do not read if this will trigger you. This is your final warning. 

word count: 6,9k

synopsis: After rescuing an abandoned hybrid from his fate of death, he has one other favor to ask of you. Not only do you have to find his eight other hybrid brothers, but you have to keep them safe from the deadly dangers of your city: Miroh

chapter directory

A/N: This one’s seriously tough. Please make sure you carefully read the warnings. As I always say, if you need someone to talk to about anything, my inbox is always open. Be safe and enjoy.

Rays of sunlight spill through the parted curtains, gently coaxing you from your peaceful slumber. Drowsily, your eyelids part only to snap shut, your hazy mind sensitive to the light. You attempt to escape the sun’s wrath and turn to your other side, sighing in relief at the dimmer light level. You snuggle further into your pillow, tugging the bed sheet tighter against your body as a sudden chill cascades across your skin.

Your chilliness recedes as a new source of warmth sidles up to next to you. Although there’s remnants of sleep still fogging your head, you could guess the identity of your personal heater. You cuddle closer, your body molding against the other as your head takes purchase upon a broad chest. A sigh of content emerges from your throat when an arm winds around your waist, hands tracing light patterns across your back while another threads through your hair. 

The figure chuckles at your attempt to move closer to his body, “Babygirl, I don’t think you can get any closer.” 

You huff and answer without opening your eyes, “Can’t help it… You’re so warm.” 

“Perks of being part wolf, I guess.” Your companion murmurs, brushing a couple stray strands from your face, “That and I can clearly hear your heart beating.” 

“That’s not creepy at all.” You giggle, caressing what you find to be his muscular bicep. Using your fingers, you follow the limb down to his hand where you weave your fingers together. Like puzzle pieces, your palm fits perfectly inside his. 

“It’s a good thing, I promise.” He pulls your intertwined hands up to his face and only seconds later, you feel his lips dotting the surface of your knuckles with soft pecks. He pulls away with one last kiss to the crease where your palm meets your wrist before leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead. 

When he pulls away, you choose to open yours eyes, immediately meeting the familiar chocolate brown irises. You smile, “Hi.” 

“Good morning, princess.” Chan murmurs with a matching grin, running his hand through your hair yet again. “Sleep well?” 

You hum a yes, leaning more into his comforting touch. If you could, you would fall asleep again just at the feeling of his fingers running through your hair. Not wanting to do so, you focus your mind on things other than sleep. Like the hybrid in front of you. 

Chan had been sleeping in your bed with you for the past week, not because there wasn’t any space left because seriously, the couch you bought could fit another four or five people, but because he claimed he wanted to be closer to you. You weren’t one to argue though. You rather enjoyed the warmth and tranquility he brought during the nights. 

You notice his wolf ears twitch and an amazing thought pops into your head. You unravel your other hand from the blankets and reach up. Carding your fingers a few times through his blonde tendrils, you then start to scratch at his furry ears. Chan practically melts beneath your touch, a content rumble resonating from his chest. You watch his eyes flutter shut, his lashes kissing the bones of his cheeks, and jaw go slack. The sight brings a nice warmth to spread all throughout your body. 

Leaning forward, you press your own lips to the bridge of his nose before following a path down to the corner of his lips. When you pull away, his eyes were open again and boring straight into your own. Chan squeezes your still joint fingers and asks, “Can I kiss you?” 

You shake your head with a laugh, “You don’t have to ask that anymore.” 

“I find it more romantic when I ask.” Chan replies cheekily, kissing your cheek. 

You roll your eyes, “Yes. You can kiss me.” 

No sooner had the words left your lips, Chan had connected them with his own. The two of you have shared many kisses since then, but it always felt like the first with your pulse racing, body heating and limbs shaking. You loved how gentle he was, moving his mouth against your own and holding your body against his. If you had the chance, you’d wake up to this every day. 

But you know you can’t. 

The two of you part with a shared sigh. Chan pulls you into a loving embrace, his hands innocently rubbing circles into the bare skin of your back where your T-shirt had ridden up. You melt against him, cursing yourself for being so selfish. Like all the other times, you push those thoughts to the rear end of your mind and bask in the pleasurable moment.

“I love this, just laying here with you in my arms.” Chan’s confession makes the atmosphere even warmer, if possible. “I wish we could stay like this forever.” 

“Please, don’t ruin it.” You sigh, trailing a hand down his arm. “You know we can’t.” 

“What if we could?” Your eyebrows pull into a furrow as you move away to peer into your companion’s eyes. Your heart breaks at the childish hope present within the irises, cracking even further at his words, “I was thinking you could come with us.” 

You shake your head, “What are you talking about?” 

“To Yellow Wood, (Y/N). You could come with us to Yellow Wood.” 

Your heart shatters. 

“Chan-” 

“-Just think about it, please.” Chan’s plea grinds the pieces of your heart into dust and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes. “Once we get out of this shithole city, we could be together with no limitations. (Y/N), we could start a life together.” 

You shake your head, “You know that’s not possible.” 

“We don’t know that for sure. It could work.” 

“And what if it doesn’t?” You pull away from the hybrid, “Then they’ll kill us both.” 

Chan shrugs with a weak smile, “At least we’ll die like Romeo and Juliet.” 

You stare at him with incredulous eyes, unbelieving the words that just entered your ears. Frantically, you shake your head back and forth while throwing back the covers. Chan silently watches as you slide from the bed, throwing an old sweatshirt and some worn slippers on. He sighs, “(Y/N), baby, wait-” 

“-We made it clear that whatever this-this… thing we have going on is only for right now. You can’t make false hope like that.” 

Chan’s face falls and you hate the sinking feeling that arises within your chest. He smiles sadly before nodding, “Yeah, you’re right… My feelings for you are only temporary.” 

“Chan, that’s not what I-” 

“-It’s fine, (Y/N). Trust me, I get it.” He sighs, sliding out of the bed. You watch as he pulls on his shirt with sunken shoulders. He throws you one last smile before shaking his head, “I have you now, I should be grateful for that much.” 

And with that, he opens your bedroom door and ushers for you to exit first. You grant him a long, sullen glance before following his gesture and stepping out into the hallway. The fragrance of bacon and toast hits your nostrils, and if it weren’t for the sinking feeling of your heart nestled in the depths of your stomach, you would have actually been more excited to eat. 

When you round the corner, you take headcount of all the other hybrids. Woojin was stood behind the kitchen counter, plating bacon from a sizzling frying pan. Seungmin and Minho were sat at the breakfast bar, looking at something on your laptop (you really need to get another electronic device in this house). Hyunjin and Felix were on the sofa, watching a cartoon on TV while digging into their own breakfast plates.  

You ruffle each of their hairs as you walk by, earning a matching set of grumbles. Woojin sends you a bright grin before handing you two plates, one of which you give to Chan. You immediately take a bite of your toast, hoping it would settle the obnoxious fluttering in your gut. You turn to the other two hybrids, leaning on Seungmin’s shoulder, “What are you two up to?” 

“Trying to figure out where Jisung-ah is.” Seungmin answers without looking back at you. He ferociously types something again, before his ears flap in annoyance and he mutters a curse, “Damn it. Nothing.” 

“You have a lead?” “Minho-hyung does.” 

Confused, you transfer your attention to the coyote hybrid, “Really?” 

Minho nods, “When I went out last night, I ran into an old buddy of mine-” 

You bite your tongue and hold back your sour comment of him going out alone. 

“-basically he said that he ran into Sung-ah a couple months ago while he was off doing a gig in the Southern Edge.” He shrugs, “He thinks he works down there somewhere because he ran into him again last week during another gig. Seungmin-ssi is trying to figure out where.” 

The Edges of Miroh are just as they sound: The edges of the city. It’s the area right where the city transitions into the suburbs. The Northern and Eastern are the best ones to live in, Western and Southern not so much. You actually lived in the Southern Edge with your mom before she passed away. You never thought that could be useful until now. 

“Maybe I could help, I used to live down there.” You finish off your slice of toast and reach for the other. You steal a couple bites from the bread before peering at the laptop screen where Seungmin had a map of the Southern Edge pulled up. “Okay, where was his gig?” 

“Right in this strip mall, but there are barely any stores that come up on the map.” Seungmin answers and points to the lack of titled buildings. 

You recognize the location immediately, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. That strip mall was the one and only place where people from your high school ever hung out. They had everything there: Clothing stores, a movie theater, convenience shops, an arcade. It was a teenager’s dream down there. 

“Yeah, I know this.” You nod, pointing to the first blank building, “This is the movie theater. My friends and I would always go Tuesday nights when tickets were dirt cheap…” 

One by one, you point out each one of the buildings. Seungmin searches them all, but none ever relate to a Han Jisung. By the last building, you had completely lost hope in Minho’s source. 

“And again, nothing.” Seungmin groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Minho shakes his head, “There’s gotta be something else. Are you sure you didn’t miss anything?” 

“That’s all the places I remember. The mall didn’t have much.” 

“Wait, what about this?” Both you and Minho snap forward at Seungmin’s comment. You watch as he drags the map to the back of the mall, exposing another hidden unnamed store front.

Confusion ensues and before you can think over your words, they fall from your lips, “The strip club?” 

Choking emerges from behind you, and you turn to see Chan struggling at keeping his coffee in his mouth. Hyunjin and Felix were no longer invested within their show, and Hyunjin asks with wide eyes, “A strip club?” 

“I mean, yeah, but they closed right before I moved away.” You shake your head, “Something about health code violations or what not. ‘Sex and Lust and Paradise’ was it’s name.” 

Seungmin searches the title, and to your surprise, pulls up a full functioning and updated website, “What the-?” 

“-Looks like they reopened.” The beagle sighs, turning the screen so everyone could see, “And are aiming at a new audience.” 

Woojin groans, “And to think I thought making us fight against one another was the cruelest thing humans could do.” 

The breakfast sitting within your stomach twists uncomfortably. You debated actually dashing to the bathroom to relieve the contents, but decide against it. You had heard of hybrid sex trafficking, but you never thought you would ever come face to face with it. Similar to hybrid abuse, the MHA doesn’t condone sex trafficking of hybrids, but the city technically doesn’t have any laws directly prohibiting it. Unlike the fight ring, the business dealers aren’t trespassing on a property that’s not theirs, so it’s free game. 

And it definitely sucks. 

“I found him.” You don’t like the sad lilt of Seungmin’s voice, and you don’t like the hesitant way he turns the screen to face everyone again. Sure enough, on the screen was a picture of what you assumed to be Jisung. He was knelt on the floor, naked with his hands tied behind his back and a gag ball centered within his mouth. His cat ears were laid at the sides of his head, his thin tail wrapped around his waist. There were tears shimmering across his cheeks, and you don’t think they were fake.

“SLP’s best pussy, J.One.” Minho reads in a hiss, “One hundred percent submissive, tongue made for oral, cutest cock- God, fuck, this is so messed up.” 

“How are we supposed to work around this one?” You huff, running a trembling hand through your already tousled strands. “A disorganized fight ring was one thing, but this is a full on business. We can’t just walk in there and demand they hand him over.” 

Seungmin shrugs, “We do what we were supposed to do with Woojin and sneak him out.” 

“Because that worked so well last time.” 

“No, Seungmin is right.” Chan nods, stepping beside you. “We’ll be able to sneak him out no problem. Especially with Minho on our team now.” 

Minho shakes his head, “I’m good, Channie-hyung, but I’m not this good. We’re going to need a really good getaway plan to get Sung-ah out of there.” 

“Why doesn’t (Y/N)-noona go in and get him out? They do those private dance things for customers, right?” Hyunjin pipes up from the couch. However, his eagerness is glazed over by a particular wolf. 

With a deep frown across his face, Chan answers,  “Absolutely not.” 

“Hyunjin-ah’s idea isn’t bad, Channie-hyung. (Y/N)-ah would be able to-” Minho’s attempt to save Hyunjin’s idea does nothing, only etching the frown deeper on the older hybrid’s face. 

“-And I’m saying no. We’re finding another way.” 

You sigh, “Chan.” 

“It’s not happening, (Y/N).” 

Your mind races back in time, and suddenly your stood back in the fight ring. You smile softly, “That’s the same thing I told you when you went in that stupid ring. Do you remember what you said to me after?” 

Chan averts his gaze from yours and murmurs in defense, “(Y/N), don’t-” 

“-What if there is no other way?” You relay, lifting a soothing hand to lay upon his shoulder. “This could be our only chance at getting Jisung back. This time, I need you to trust me.” 

When you meet his eyes, the pain beneath his irises almost makes your decision waver. But you stand your ground, knowing that a lot of hybrids were depending on you. Especially Jisung.

Finally, with a long, dramatic sigh, the wolf hybrid concurs, “Fine, but if anything seems the slightest bit dangerous, I will breaking those fucking doors down and get to you before anything happens to you. If I have to kill someone, I won’t hesitate to.”

The scariest part is you actually believed him. 

“Okay, good.” You nod, swallowing the nervous lump inside your throat and looking back at the screen. “All I need now is a ton of cash and a slutty dress. Luckily, I already have one of the two.” 

***

“According to their website, private dances cost at least $55 for the first half hour,” Seungmin says, watching Chan count off the cash you pulled out just hours earlier. “You should pay that plus a tip, just so to buy some extra time. And spend a little time doing other things before you approach him. Maybe hand money to other dancers too.” 

“Got it.” Whether it was out of anxiety or slight embarrassment, you kept fumbling with various parts of your appearance: Tugging at the neckline of your dress before pulling it down your thighs, fussing with your hair, making sure your makeup was on point. You had to make sure everything screamed “party girl,” and yes, you went a little extra… Maybe too extra now that you think about it. 

“You look gorgeous, (Y/N)-ah. I bet Jisung’s not the only one who’ll want to give you a private dance…” Minho’s suggestive comment eases the nerves stirring within your gut, especially paired with the laugh from Woojin. You throw him a playful wink and are met with a chuckle of his own. 

Your attention is wrenched away from the coyote and onto an unimpressed wolf. Chan sends Minho a threatening look before focusing back on you. His eyes immediately softening when they connect with your own. He offers you a stack of cash and nods, “There’s three hundred here. Plenty to get you through.” 

“Thanks-” You try to take the money, but Chan snaps his wrist away from your outstretched grip. 

He looks at you with a pointed expression, lips pressed into a thin line and jaw tense. With a strict tone, he continues, “If you think you are in any sort of danger, you let us know.” 

“I got it, Chan-” 

“-I’m serious, (Y/N).” You hold in an exasperated groan at Chan’s overprotective nature, but your frustration falters when you notice the absolute seriousness present within his dark irises. He shakes his head, “The guys who run these sorts of things are not people to play around with. You steer clear of everyone, okay? Keep aware of your surroundings.” 

“I will. You don’t have to worry about me.” 

Chan weakly smiles, “Oh I definitely do. Minho’s right, you look absolutely breathtaking.” 

“Is it the dress or the make-up?” You banter, poking at the hybrid’s shoulder. You’re surprised when Chan doesn’t answer and lifts his hand to brush against your cheek. For a moment, you thought he’d lean in to kiss you. But alas, the moment is ruined once again. 

Seungmin’s voice emerges from the back of the van, “It’s time, guys. Noona, you have your earpiece?” 

“Yep.” You hum, cursing at the loss of warmth that stems from Chan dropping his hand. He hands you the cash, which you stuff into your little handbag, and sends you one last comforting smile: 

“I’ll be there, (Y/N). Whenever you need me.” Those words bleed into your brain like ink to paper. They give you the strength to bid one last farewell to Seungmin, Minho and Woojin, and exit the safety of the vehicle you rented just for tonight. 

You tug your shawl further around your shoulders, your bare legs defenseless against the winter, night air. Heels clicking against the pavement, you make your way up the sidewalk and up to the entrance of the club. You will yourself not to falter beneath the hawk-like stare of the bouncer stood just beside the door and instead busy yourself with retracting your ID from your bag. 

You hand the card to the guard, who inspects it with an unamused expression. After what seems like hours stood shivering in your place, the bouncer nods, “You’re all set. Have a good night.” 

“You too.” You answer, grabbing your ID from his hand and shoving it back where it belongs. Before you push through the metal door, you take one last longing glance at the van, hidden cleverly amongst a garbage dump and opaque shadows. You imagine Chan watching you through the windshield, the ghost of his gaze searing into your skin. With one last breath, you muster up whatever courage remained inside of you and step into the threshold. 

The chilly air immediately shifts hot and humid to the point you were almost tempted to remove your cover. Pungent scents of booze, cigarettes and sweat hit you head on and you can’t help but wrinkle your nose. You make your way through the short entrance hallway, hurrying past an obviously drunk man making out with a scantily dressed male rabbit hybrid. 

When you enter the actual club, you’re immediately bathed in a blend of violet and maroon lights. There’s people everywhere, the majority sat in the audience, tossing dollar bills and yelling inappropriate comments at the dancers on stage. Finding no sign of Jisung, you murmur softly, “Guys, he’s not here yet.” 

“...Go to the bar and order a drink then…” Seungmin’s voice carries over the intercom inside your ear, disguised as an inner ear piercing. “...Pretend to drink it though… Make it look natural…” 

You hum and head in the direction of the bar. You have to push past a group of girls, ogling at some shirtless dog hybrid humping the floor. Somehow, you’re able to find an empty space at the counter, although the three bartenders are already tending to some other customers. You take the time to peer up at the stage, finding a set list flashing in lights across the top. If you’re correct, and the female hybrid currently dancing is Momo, then Jisung was up next. You didn't know if you were supposed to feel sick or relieved.  

“He’s performing soon.” 

“...When he does, make sure to do something to get his attention…” Minho’s voice enters your ear drums this time. “...Do something weird, that’ll get him…” 

You shake your head, “What are you-?” 

“-First time, angel?” You whirl around at the sudden voice, discovering one of the bartenders behind the counter. His arms were lined with tattoos, peeking out from the sleeves of his skin tight black T-shirt. 

You recollect your bearings, tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and answer, “Is it that obvious?” 

The bartender sends you a soothing smile, “Don’t worry, you’re one out of many. What can I get you, little doll?” 

“Uh, I’ll take a dry martini, please.” 

“Coming right up, precious.” As the bartender goes about mixing your cocktail, you return your attention to the stage. The dancer had finished her routine and was making her way off the stage and into the crowd of men waiting for her. You notice the lights dimming and the music becoming a lot slower. Another figure makes their way onto the stage, dressed in a black lace corset and matching knee highs. Between his furry cat ears was a tiny bow, one that matched the ribbon tied at the tip of his tail. Your heart drops as Jisung begins his sexual dance. 

He wasn’t even smiling. 

“Here you go, sweet thing.” You turn back as the bartender sets the drink in front of you.

You nod, “Thanks. How much?” 

“Don’t worry about it. Consider it a welcome gift.” The wink he gives you sends a shudder down your spine, and suddenly you’re remembering Chan’s words from earlier. You decide not to press the issue, accept the drink and get the hell away from the bar. You inhabit a vacant table a couple feet from the stage, but in a place where Jisung would surely spot you. 

“...(Y/N), you okay?...” Your anxiety loosens at Chan’s caring inquiry. You take a fake sip of your drink and hum in response, not trusting your voice to remain stable. 

Jisung’s routine goes by pretty quickly. Multiple times, when he looked your direction, you made sure to give him a thumbs up or a peace sign each time. You could tell he was pretty confused, considering most customers don’t do those sorts of things… At least you don’t think. 

The song ends and so does Jisung’s dance. You keep your eyes on him as he makes his way through the crowds, busying himself with taking tips from other willing customers. He pays you no mind, stealing a frustrated huff from your figure, “Guys, it didn’t work.” 

“...Try interacting with some other dancers… That should-” 

“-Ah, there you are, sweetpea. I found you.” You nearly flinch at the familiar voice, eyes widening at the bartender from before. Obviously noticing your surprised expression, he chuckles and raises his hands, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“I-It’s fine… ” You grumble, thumbing at the stem of your glass. 

The bartender chuckles again and slides into the seat across from you. He peers over to where you were looking before, tilts his head and asks, “You liked J.One’s dance? He’s our most popular cat hybrid.” 

“Yeah, it was nice.” You nod, “He’s really good.” 

“Would you like me to set you up with a private dance?” Your eyeballs nearly launch from your head at his offer, trying to find some sort of insincerity laced either between his words or amongst his facial features. You find none. “I actually manage Jisung and all of his clients, so I’d be happy to help you out?” 

You narrow your eyes, “What’s the catch?” 

He holds his hands up again, “No catch, honestly. Just helping out a pretty lady. Wait here.” 

Still filled with confusion, you watch the bartender push his way through the crowd and toward Jisung. They converse about something, Jisung’s gaze averting to you every so often. After a couple more minutes, the both of them begin to make their way back over to you. 

“He’s approaching,” You mumble, sipping falsely at your drink yet again. 

“...You won’t be able to talk to us in the room…”

“...Be careful, (Y/N)...” 

At Chan’s voice, your anxiety lessens, “I will.” 

Just as you finish your sentence, the two are already in front of you. The human pushing the hybrid your way with a smirk, “He’s all yours for fifteen, baby cakes. Enjoy it on the house.” 

Jisung doesn’t meet your eyes, simply taking your hand and leading you through the crowded club. A lot of other customers glare as you pass, grumbling about the system being unfair. You were too focused on the younger hybrid in front of you, not liking the way his ears were dropped to the sides of his head. 

This’ll be his last. You promise him that. 

He leads you into a room furnished with nothing but a loveseat. You make your way over there while your companion closes the door. His shoulders bounce in preparation before he turns in your direction, his features pulled into false flirtation. He murmurs suggestively, “Ready for a night you’ll never forget?” 

“Oh I’m not going to forget this night,” You shake your head, “but I’m pretty sure it’s because of reasons different from yours, Jisung.” 

Jisung’s face pales, “How do you know my real name?” 

“My name is (Y/N). I-”

“-Answer my question.”

“Your brothers.” You relish the minimal light that spreads across the younger’s face at the mention of his siblings. “I’m working with your brothers. We’re getting you out of here tonight-” 

“-You’re lying...” Jisung hisses, the fur on his exposed tail standing on end. “I haven’t seen my brothers in years. You don’t know a thing-” 

“-I know it seems fishy, but you really have to trust me on this.” 

The cat hybrid only glares at your words, “You’re human. Why would I ever trust you?” 

“Because I can save your life.” You offer your hand to the reluctant male, “You just have to trust me.” 

Jisung stares at you for what seems like an eternity. His eyes seemed to be searching yours for signs of untruthfulness or trickery. You hoped the feelings racing through your chest could be seen in your gaze. The sympathy. The concern. The compassion. 

Finally, beneath the pound of your pulse within your ears, Jisung fits his hand with your own and murmurs, “Okay. I’ll trust you, but only because I can smell Channie-hyung’s scent radiating off of you.” 

You decide not to question his strange remark and squeeze your joint limbs. A bright grin invades your face, pride spilling through your veins. As much as you’d like to celebrate your victory, time isn’t really on your side right now. 

“Perfect. How much time do we have left?” 

Jisung peers at a portable timer. He probably set it right before he led you here. 

“About seven minutes. Why?” 

“What’s the most inconspicuous way for us to get out of here?” 

The hybrid’s eyes widen, “Hold on. You can’t possibly think you’re going to be able to sneak me out of here.”

You nod, “That’s the plan.” 

“You won’t get far.” Jisung sighs, moving his costume to the side to expose a thin, metal collar hugging the circumference of his neck. There was some sort of tech embedded at the front of the band, sat right atop his windpipe. In the center was a flashing red light. You immediately recognize it to be a tracker, having seen one on plenty of other hybrids. 

“We’ll find a way,” You lean forward to better inspect the collar, trying to find either a clasp or a weak spot where you’d be able to break it off. Finding none of the sorts, you try a different plan, “What if we take the tracker out?”

The feline watches as you dig through your handbag, thumbing at the electronic device with lost hope, “I doubt you have something small enough that will be able to slide beneath the cover and cut the-” 

“Would a paperclip work?” 

Jisung raises an eyebrow, “Well I’ll be damned.” 

You chuckle, manipulate the paperclip into a usable shape and lean toward Jisung’s collar. Carefully, you slide the point of the clip beneath the box cover which was probably protecting the wiring and power sources. Once it’s as far inside as you can get it, you move your wrist back and forth. If you’re idea doesn’t go down the drain, the point should do at least some damage to the tiny wires. 

After one particular flip, the light on the front grows dim. Holding back a smile, you quickly warn Jisung of your succession and gather the items you carelessly discarded from your bag, “Okay, time to go. Which exit?” 

“We’ll have a better chance through the one in the storage closet. It leads into an alley that-” 

Jisung’s voice cuts out immediately as the door bursts open, catching you off guard and almost bringing you to fall over. Luckily, your companion steadies your clumsy self just as the intruder steps into the room. The bartender, or the manager you should say, takes one look at both you and Jisung before raising an eyebrow, “Your time is up.” 

His suspicious facial expression sends terror through your body. You muster up as good of a friendly smile as you can, hoping your anxiety wasn’t too obvious in your body language or eyes. You shake your head, “Damn, I really lost track of time. You weren’t kidding when you said he was really popular, I definitely see why…” 

The manager nods with a smirk, “That he is. Best thing I’ve ever invested in.” 

You fight off the urge to slap that malicious smile from his face. 

“I hope you enjoyed your time. I’ll walk you back-” 

“-I was actually hoping I could steal a few more minutes,” You purposely pull your lips into a dramatic pout, batting your eyelashes toward the chuckling male. Kicking it up a notch, to take a step further and gently caress at Jisung’s soft hair. “Couldn’t you make an exception for me?” 

The manager shakes his head, “I don’t think so, doll face. In fact, it’s time for you to leave.”

The dark shift of his tone sends a violent shiver down your spine. You blink, your finger frozen against Jisung’s hairline. With a weak smile, you reply with a meek attempt, “Wh-What?” 

The man chuckles yet again, wagging his pointer finger with a tsk. He approaches the both of you, making sure to kick the door shut with his foot, and hums playfully, “Sweetheart, I got cameras and voice recorders in every room. Don’t you dare think I don’t know what the two of you were scheming.” 

You gulp, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure you don’t.” The manager giggles then turns to the hybrid, “But you do, don’t you, pussy boy?” 

Jisung’s yelp has your body jumping almost a foot in the air. His hands fly to his collar. Confused, you watch your companion tremble with what you read as pain. With a closer look, you notice the miniscule electric sparks emerging from the metal contraption. And your mind immediately goes blank. 

“Y-Yes!” Jisung answers with a deep gasp, a single tear cascading down his flushed cheek. 

“That’s what I thought.” The manager growls, twirling a remote control around his thumb and forefinger. “Now, hot lips, I suggest you follow me outside before things get ugly.” 

“If you think I’m going to allow him to remain in your fucking hands, you must be out of your goddamn mind.” You hiss, shielding the younger’s figure with your own. You shake your head with vigor, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

The manager sighs, “That’s too bad. I really didn’t want to have to hurt you.” 

“You won’t touch me.” 

“You’re in my club, sugar. I can do whatever the hell I want.” His fingers wrap around your left wrist before you can react. He pulls you against his body, his same arm winding around your waist and pinning your arms to your sides. Fueled by anger and sudden adrenaline, you try to squirm out of his tight grasp, but find no avail. His strength outmatches yours. 

His other hand comes across your cheek with a loud snap, stinging pain erupting across your skin. He does it once, twice, then finishes with a third and allows you to collapse to the floor, clutching your bleeding lip and wounded cheek. 

“Leave her alone!” Jisung tries to charge at the human man, but drops to his knees mid-stride. His scream tears at something inside of you, the sight of him writhing on the carpeted floor filling you with so much unadulterated anger you’ve never felt before. Seeing red, you throw yourself at the manager, clawing at his face. Not expecting your counterattack, the man doesn’t dodge in time for your fingernail to scratch at his eye. 

He shoves you away, cupping his eyes, blood dripping through the cracks of his fingers. You look around to forge another plan, discovering a vase of red roses sat atop an accent table right beside the door. You grab it with no hesitation, raise it high above your head and bring it down over the man’s head. Hard. The vase shatters and he collapses to the floor littered with glass shards. Unmoving. . 

You scramble for the remote control in his hand and hit what you hope is the off button. Sure enough, Jisung grows calm, laid still on his back. You rush to his side, cup his face and call his name softly, “Sung… Jisung, sweetheart…” 

At your voice, Jisung’s eyelids snap ajar, exposing his teary irises. Liquid sadness of your own wells beneath your lids, but you hold them back. You have to be strong. For both Jisung and yourself. 

“C’mon, we have to go now.” You help the cat hybrid to his feet, steadying him with an arm around your shoulders. The two of you hobble from the room and Jisung tries to direct you toward the storage room. Luckily, there’s no one else in the hallway so you’re able to navigate yourselves without any issues. You reach the closet in minutes, although it seemed like hours, throwing the door open with desperation and launching yourselves inside. 

Jisung points to another door across the room, “There. That’s the exit.” 

You lurch forward, ready to feel the bite of winter air nipping against your bare skin. You could almost taste the cold on your tongue, but you’re stopped when the obstacle refuses to budge. You push harder against it, thinking it was just frozen shut and needed a little motivation. Your attempts fail. 

“Shit, shit, shit. This is not happening right now.” You shake your head feverishly, banging on the door. “What’s wrong? Why won’t it open?” 

“Some idiot locked it from the outside. We need to pick the lock. Do you still have that paperclip?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” I retract your trusty tool from your bag and with fumbling hands and bend down to pick at the lock. Your hands were shaking way too much, body fighting off the beginnings of an anxiety attack. You will your mind to calm the fuck down, but it doesn’t listen. Your body is moving on it’s own at this point. 

After the longest few seconds of your life, a click reaches your ears and the door basically falls open. You squeal in delight, but your glory doesn’t last. 

“You are fucking dead, Han! You and your little bitch!” Peering behind you, you see the manager from before stalking down the hallway. A patch of blood running across his forehead and a knife in his hand. You yank Jisung out of the room, tugging him into the shadows of the night. The two of you stagger toward the street, where you hope the boys would still be parked. It’s your ass on the line. 

“Shit, I’m in the alleyway right beside the club. I need you guys to get here before-” 

You’re unable to finish your plea when Jisung is quite literally ripped away from your grasp. You reach out for him again, only to be pulled into another body. Pain shoots through your marred cheek as the manager slices a clean stripe across your skin, warm blood immediately cascading down onto your lips. He throws you forward and you fall against the concrete with a sickening thud. Your body scrambles to get to its feet, but a hard kick to your stomach halts that plan. 

He proceeds to knock all the air from your lungs with every time his foot connects with your rib cage. You cry in pain, attempting to kick your own limbs out to do some damage. But your actions are futile and all you can do is lie there and allow him to beat the shit out of you: 

“Should’ve left when you had the fucking chance, doll. You brought this on yourself.” 

You knew this was the end with how fast your mind was growing hazy. This man was going to stab you, kill you and probably throw your body in the dumpster to rot. You would never see your aunt again. You would never see your dad again. You would never see the hybrid boys again. You would never see Chan again. 

This was it for you. 

Just when you were about to give up, your assaulter disappears from above you and warm arms are pulling your torso up from the ground. You can faintly hear a faraway voice inside your ear and when you turn your head, through bleary eyes, you recognize the frantic expression of Woojin. You peer behind him to see Minho helping Jisung to his feet, and the weight upon your chest lifts. 

Until you see the sight in front of you. 

The person who had saved you from your deadly fate was Chan, likely having knocked the man away from you. While that should have alleviated everything, you only grow more sick and anxious. Horrified, you watch the wolf hybrid, throw punch after punch against the man’s face. Each hit landing with a disgusting crack and freeing more blood from his face. 

You expected him to stop, but he didn’t. With eyes of hellfire and sharp teeth, he just kept punching the man over and over again. Eventually, you couldn’t watch anymore and hide your face in Woojin’s chest. Memories throw themselves at you like hail from the sky. The closet. Her screams. The blood. His yells. 

The bear hybrid shakes his head, “Chan-ah. That’s enough.” 

Chan doesn’t hear him, or if he did, he chose not to listen. Just kept throwing one hook after the other. 

“Stop it! You’re going to kill him!” Jisung sobs, crying into Minho’s chest. “Hyung, stop!” 

“Chan, please.” You cry, unable to stop your own tears from leaving your eyes. Whether it was from the scene you were witnessing, your remembrance, or the heavy pain in your stomach and cheek, you couldn’t tell. “Please, just stop it.” 

The hybrid falters at your pleading voice, his arms falling to his sides. With one final growl, he drops the man to the ground, who already passed out from the pain, and turns to face everyone. As hard as you tried to look at him, you couldn’t. You force yourself to at least meet his eyes and whatever anger he had before just completely disappeared. 

He rushes forward, holding his arms out. Traumatized and desperate, you cling to Woojin and freely release whatever sobs you were holding back in his chest. Woojin wraps his arms around your body, holding you close, before shaking his head, “Not now, Chan-ah. You’ve done enough.” 

“I didn’t-” 

“-She’s had enough.” Woojin replies in a strict tone. He slides a hand beneath your knees, picking you up bridal style and cuddling you close to his body. “It’s time to go. Now.” 

Chan tries again, “Let me at least-” 

“-I said you’ve done enough.” 

From your head laid tiredly on Woojin’s shoulder, you can see Chan unmoving in his place from before. His form getting more and more blurry the more Woojin walks away. But no matter how far you go, you can still see the unmistakable pain within his shimmering eyes. 

Still, they weren’t enough to distract you from the blood staining his knuckles.

[poppibranchlover]

Nine Lives, One Fight - Part 21

The story: Deep in the forest of Troll Town, there lies a mysterious tiny purple mushroom that has a secret magical ability. King Peppy calls this mushroom forbidden for all Trolls to go near it. One day, while Branch is out in the woods doing his survival research studying, he encounters it and, not knowing it is a regular mushroom, decides to harvest it and bring it home. But in the next morning, its magic effects transform him into a small blue cat! After being sent to the animal pound, his girlfriend, Poppy, finds him and decides to adopt him, although not recognizing it is Branch. Desperate to finish his research project due for a special event invented by Poppy, Branch is forced to learn how to behave like a pet cat and must figure out what caused him to become one.

You already seen what had happened in Part 20. Now get ready for Part 21!:

Flinging herself into her pod with her hair, Poppy didn’t stop until she got into her bedroom. Then she threw herself down on her bed and broke into sobs.

Poppy laid down motionless. Overwhelmed by the loss of her boyfriend, she clutched on to her pillow and wept. With tears in her eyes, she moved a picture frame beside her pillows and looked at it. The frame had a picture of Poppy and Branch, sitting on a hill together and giving each other loving looks.

Poppy sighed at the photo. She had never felt so distraught in herself.

“Oh, Branch,” she said softly, her eyes full of sadness. “I knew you’re always there for me, but you can’t be gone forever.”

One of her tears dropped down to the picture frame. The memory of Branch made Poppy feel even worse. 

She decided to settle herself for a good night’s rest. Tomorrow she would surely feel much better. Poppy turned on her side and closed her eyes, welcoming sleep to take hold of her.

During her sleep, a light suddenly flared into existence, dim behind Poppy’s closed eyelids. She clenched her eyes tighter together and rolled over to escape the small nuisance. The light was still there, and the warm and cozy bed was a little less so. Poppy opened her eyes to a sliver, then fully so.

A spotlight? And the bed was gone, replaced by a rough, stone floor. Poppy lifted herself off the ground and slowly made her way towards the lit area. What was this place? Was I dreaming? she thought. She reached the spot and bathed in the light. A black void surrounded her in every direction, except for the moon, which was positioned in the center of a starless sky.

This place… it felt so lonely… and so familiar, like Poppy knew everything about it, but didn’t recognize it at all. Every time she closed her eyes, she would see this, feel this, live this. It was almost like this was in her own mind.

Poppy began to sing to capture her mood:

You rest inside my mind

Since the day you came

A wind blew around her, pushing the fog away and leaving her untouched. Long-familiar features finally began to come into focus. First a rocky floor, then the center studying table, followed by the walls with shelves and baskets of supplies and survival equipment. 

Poppy knew this place. “Branch’s bunker!” she whispered, putting her hands up to her mouth and tears running down her face. She must be dreaming!

“Come on, Branch! I knew you wouldn’t miss the big day!”

Poppy’s eyes shot fully open. She knew that voice from out of nowhere…it was her own.

“I don’t know about this, Poppy.”

The pink Troll turned around and found a projection of herself talking to Branch, who was in Troll form in that time of the day. They glowed, with trails of foggy light seemingly evaporating off of them and disappearing into thin air.

“Why don’t you want to come to their wedding?”

Branch rubbed his chin, his eyes speaking volumes about his apprehension. “Are you sure your best friend will be alright to marry the king?” he asked Poppy.

“Of course!” Poppy told him enthusiastically. “Bridget and King Gristle are getting married today! They’re inviting all of us to their wedding! Why you want miss the chance to go to Bergen Town again? I thought you liked Bergens because they don’t eat us anymore!”

“I know!” Branch said awkwardly, nodding and raising his arms up. Then he hung his head, feeling a wave of sadness across his face. “It’s just...if only my grandma were here to see our happy village.”

Poppy clenched her eyes shut, remembering the day she used to comfort Branch over the loss of his grandma, who got eaten by the Bergen Chef when he was a little young boy a long time ago.

The foggy image of Poppy hugged Branch, and he hugged back, enjoying the pressure of her big warm hugs. “Oh, Branch,” she told him. “I can see how you felt. But now that we made peace with the Bergens and you regained your true colors, there is nothing to worry about. I’m sure your grandma will be so proud of you, smiling down from heaven.”

“Thank you, Poppy,” Branch said gratefully. “You were always there for me when you helped me to be happy.”

“And I knew you always were,” Poppy added. 

The two Trolls looked at each other lovingly and leaned forward, bringing each other’s lips close...

Poppy’s body trembled against the threat of tears. She did her best to shake it off and watched as the apparitions of herself and Branch disappeared. His chance to see Bridget and King Gristle’s wedding would be the best from him… At least he got to see it, and she is glad he enjoyed it. She quietly sung a few words:

I knew you would be with me

All the time we spent 

“Hey, Poppy! How’s it going?”

Poppy got startled from her song when another memory of herself visiting Branch again sprung up to the right.

Her image approached Branch. “Hey there, Branch!” she said proudly. She noticed that he is stashing some acorns in a bag. “What are you doing?”

“Storing food for the winter,” he said. “Why are you here? Aren’t you cold?” Branch looked so worried that she might be getting a frostbite if she went to his bunker without any warm clothes. He turned to a closet and cried “Let me get you some warm clothing!”

“No,” Poppy corrected him. “How could you forget? I’m here to give you a Christmas present!”

Poppy immediately remembered this! It was Christmas in Troll Village, and she went to visit Branch’s bunker to offer him a holiday blessing. Thankfully, Branch was able to accept the offer and unwrapped his gift with mere anticipation.

Branch’s jaw dropped open wide at his Christmas present. He was totally speechless at what Poppy give to him. “Whoa! No way!” he said, excitement gripped his throat. “A SuperTroll action figure?!”

Poppy tried not to laugh so that her boyfriend can agree with her. “Yes!” she squeaked, nearly throwing her arms wide to hug him.

Branch was overwhelmed with love and admiration. After pulling himself away from her hug, he moved his SuperTroll toy around, pretending that it can fly. “You’re the best, Poppy!” he said happily. “How can I ever thank you for this?”

“Well, you can always thank me as much as you want!” Poppy said proudly, smirking at him. Then she yanked him to the bunker elevator, and Branch was suddenly confused.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked.

“I’m sure you would love a good snowball fight!” said Poppy, bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Um, what are you talking about?” Branch didn’t understand what she was planning for him.

“Come outside! I’m sure you’ll love the snow!” With pride in her step and a determined smirk, Poppy hopped on the elevator platform, with Branch pulling the lever, rising themselves upwards into a flash of green fog. That was always like Branch; no matter what the situation, he would always be willing to come with her and help her, whether he enjoyed the fun or not.

As the memory disappeared, Poppy sang:

What we shared was surely

Warm enough to know you cared for me

“DANCE BREAK!!!” A familiar cry caught her ear; Poppy turned to see herself preparing to dance excitedly while Branch overreacted in horror.

She recognized this moment. Branch had never been too keen on overreacting just for the fun of himself. He’d only ever overreacted in some circumstances whenever something for a party was forgotten. One day, it was Guy Diamond’s birthday party at that time, and Poppy and Branch wanted to organize the party with a huge success, and they were busy setting up the balloons and banquet. During that one moment of preparation, Poppy started doing a victory dance and Branch nearly panicked, as if they were forgetting something.

“Clear the area!” he yelled, frantically looking around and waving his arms around. “Check for potential tripping hazards! Establish a perimeter for an open path for non-dancing Trolls to pass!”

Finally, Branch faced Poppy, who was staring at him and knew he had overreacted once. He threw his hands up in the air and dramatically cried out “DO WE HAVE ENOUGH LIQUID IN THE AREA FOR HYDRATION?!”

For a moment, everything was silent. Branch turned to Poppy’s glaring expression and hung his head, embarrassed at his outburst. “Okay then, point taken,” he said. “I’m sorry. I was overreacting for the sake of myself.”

Poppy’s image giggled and offered a genuine smile. She pushed her fist against Branch’s shoulder to playfully tease him before being engulfed in the fog of her mind, like all the rest.

Poppy turned away and was met by a large opening in the wall. She stepped outside into an open field, lit only by a sun hidden far below the horizon and a plethora of scattered stars. A green mist materialized beside a pod far from her gaze. It slowed and the fog fell off, revealing another image of herself, giggling as she showed Branch a drawing of himself with a porcupine quill-like hairstyle, whom he grimaced at. Poppy couldn’t place this memory, but it was yet another time they were at Maddy’s barber shop. Just as soon as they appeared, they disintegrated into ashes and disappeared into the night sky.

Poppy closed her eyes, taking in the sounds of chirping insects in the tall grass. Sounds became muffled, as if she’d been placed behind a window and was no longer really there. She opened her eyes to the sight of trees sprouting out of the earth, surrounding her wherever she turned.

Once again, the familiar faces of this dream appeared, appearing in a forest, only to disappear once more as each memory tended to do. To calm herself down, Poppy sang as the images played out from her mind:

Light floods through memories

Helps me walk my path

As she kept singing, Poppy was now on a rotating pedestal, lifted up high enough that she would be out of reach. On the memories played, showing her more of the happy times she had with Branch: the time when Poppy was curious of an emergency lever encased in a glass box he had created in the corner of his bunker and Branch warned her for her safety, advising her not to break the glass and pull it unless there will be danger. 

She remembered the time when she sheepishly told the truth to him after she accidentally breaks his vase made out of clay.

Poppy also remembers that one time she discovers his polished brass knuckles in his drawer, leading Branch to snatch it from her as she teasingly held her hand high from him, her fingers buckled within the shiny object. The memories surrounded Poppy with such dizzying velocity that she felt the need to curl up in a ball and hide. 

She quietly sang some words as her voice nearly shook:

I'll keep my head up high

Words of faith and love

Your strength gives me hope

Someday I'll find you with open arms

The memories all vanished in the fire of the setting sun, not unlike the one that had greeted her when she arrived home.

It was quiet. Poppy wasn’t sure she would hear it if she even spoke, but slowly a sound echoed around her. Ahead of her was a large clearing occupied by endless lumps of snow. Cut through the center of the area was a path, and the source of the sound.

Another ghostly image of Poppy ran down the path towards her. This memory was different. There was an urgency in her step, and Branch was nowhere to be seen.

“Poppy?”

Her breath caught as she faced a Troll with blue hair wearing a scarf, with his back facing her. Right in front of her, staring down the path, was Branch.

As Poppy’s mirror image closed in, Branch gave a happy wave before running in and hugging her tight. She looked on, as a lump formed inside her throat and a pang of sadness took hold of her. The other Poppy had tears in her eyes when she embraced Branch in the middle of the snow.

“What’s wrong, Poppy?” he asked in the memory, concerned about her emotion.

“Nothing,” she wept, trying to smile.

“Tell me what is wrong with you,” Branch said in his gentle voice. He lifted her chin with one hand to make her look directly into his eyes, but the sad pink Troll is unable to be comforted, looking down at the ground and crying.

“Don’t cry,” Branch said warmly, doing his best to comfort her. “It’s okay. I’m right here now. You can tell me what is your problem.”

“Branch, there is something I need to tell you,” Poppy said sadly.

“What is it?” asked Branch, pulling her tightly into his arms.

“One day, what if you leave me and get yourself into trouble? What’s gonna happen?” Poppy quickly paused for a moment, trying to hold back her sobs. Branch hugged her close, and she broke down in his arms. She poured out her sorrows and upcoming predictions to him. He listened without interrupting before he gently comforted her. He gave her valuable advice while he hugs her tight, assuring her that it was not the end of the world and that soon, all would be well.

“Nothing’s going to separate you from me,” Branch assured her, smiling. “It’ll be fine, Poppy. I’ll always be right here…in your heart.” He pointed out his finger to her chest as he said this, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Poppy leaned in close to his touch and was able to calm down. Together, they gazed lovingly at the beautiful sunset far from them.

Poppy forced her eyes shut, wishing the image would go away. That was it, the lie she had ever heard of her life. Why didn’t Branch have the guts to just tell the truth of his mistakes? At least if only he had told her… If he had told her that he accidentally pulled out the Archaeo morphisis mushroom that one single night, then maybe she’d at least know what to expect. She would have stop him from touching the mushroom, which Branch would then have to choose to lie about, or tell the terrible truth.

But it was too late to save his life now. Branch did promised that he will not leave her side, but he broke it for now. Her entire life is shattering to pieces as she predicted that she would live in a world without a village grump walking around and carrying sticks in his arms. Poppy knew Branch decided to lie, anyway, with the hopes that she could somehow conjure up the miracle cure needed to save him. But now she had failed him, and he would never forgive her.

Plus, she would never forgive herself too.

The world around Poppy grew dark, and her eyes grew heavy. The weight she had been carrying finally pushed her down to the ground. Her head became light and she felt the life escaping her as the air in her lungs escaped through constricting pressure. Tears streamed down her face through her closed eyes, dripping onto the packed dirt beneath her.

“You promised me to not leave me, Branch,” she murmured. “I know you were always in my heart...”

Soon, Poppy shot out of bed in reality, still holding on to her photo frame of herself and Branch and gasping for any air she could take in. Her body trembled as she fought to catch her breath.

Once Poppy managed to calm down, she sat back against the pillow and studied the darkness in her room. She could see faint silhouettes scattered around her. She fixated on one of them, studying the intricate curves of the craft. Suddenly, a ghostly mist began to weave around the object, and it began to turn to face her. Poppy shook her head and looked again; it was gone. Just her mind playing tricks on her.

The dream was still clear in her mind. Memory after memory, the happiness between Poppy and Branch was apparent, except for that last one. Branch had been scared and looked to her for answers. He trusted her, and she betrayed that trust.

One thing each memory had in common, though, was that Branch was always there. He was always there for her when she needed him. So why, after a few days of disappearing, was she not by his side now?

Without anyone to hug and comfort at bedtime, Poppy felt completely lost and alone. She looked up at the darkened pink ceiling and sighed. “Branch, where were you when you always need me?” she wondered. She couldn’t think where he had gone to, and hoped that he would be in a better place any time now.

Meanwhile, deep in the woods, Branch, stuck in his cat form, sat on a cliff near a river, heartbroken. It had been a long time since he had been chased by the Animal Control officer an hour ago. A cold breeze drifted over him and he shuddered. He had no idea how many hours he had been sitting here. With a deep sigh, he placed his chin between his front paws and brushed at the tearstains dripping out of his whiskers.

Branch gazed down at the river, where he can see his own reflection. He had never felt so hopeless in his life. Then he spotted a small rock in front of him and flicked it with his paw, sending it dropping into the water.

The liquid rippled, and through his own eyes, he can see that his watery reflection changed into his old Troll self, all dressed in his usual green vest and brown shorts and with pointed elf-like ears sticking out on the sides of his head.

Branch took a moment to look down at the reflection in the river. Seeing his Troll form down there made him feel even more worse. He closed his eyes and shed a tear, letting it fall into the river again. When the water rippled again, his reflection reverted to his cat form.

Dropping his head to his front paws, Branch sighed and curled his long blue tail around his body, blaming himself for ignoring Poppy and King Peppy’s warnings. The life he had always known was gone forever, and he needed to accept his fate.

                                               To Be Continued...

                                            Stay tuned for Part 22!

Note: This time, there were not much pictures in this one. For the most part, I'm very happy with how it turned out! The part is based off the music video “Memories” that I created last year, with some parts of it incorporated into the paragraphs. I hope I did the video justice because it really was incredible to me. 

I give you a link to the video! I dare you to watch it while you read through this part because it is linked to it.

Click here for the “Memories” music video! Good luck reading it! 😊💙💖

[mattzerella-sticks]

Bait & Tackle, Castiel-centric, Dean/Cas fic, heavy angst, TW: suicidal thoughts, coda to 15x06 “Golden Time”

Cas had a friend who saw the meditative benefits to fishing. If only he agreed, and still could call Dean a friend. If only he could call Dean something more. Alas none of that was possible, so he sat on a dock every day with a fishing pole in hand. Hoping that he can finally catch his first fish.

But how long can you toss your line out and expect something to happen that never does? Doing it again and again can drive you to the breaking point.

What happens when you shatter?

Cas feels the sun set behind him, the pinkish hue of the sky bleeding through the blue. Stray beams filtered through blanketing clouds strike the strip of skin between his collar and hairline. He rubs at it, massaging at the ache that settled there earlier in the day. While annoying to deal with Cas chooses to wait the pain out. Careful not to expend any of his dwindling grace on something so simple. When finished, he returns his hand to the fishing pole resting on his lap.

“Getting late,” a man says from nearby, dragging Cas’s attention away from the lake. A common practitioner of the sport, Cas met him on his first day at the cabin. Spoke with him between long dry spells where nothing bit either of their lines. In his sixties, the man’s silver beard stretched far below his chest. Long hair swept neatly under his bucket hat. Usually he wore casual shirts with witty sayings, like today’s ‘Shove It Up Your Bass!’ For the unusual amount of time they spent in each other’s company, though, Cas never asked for his name. And the stranger paid Cas the same respectful indifference. “Fish’ll hardly be active now.”

Cas nods, “I might stay here a bit longer.”

“Of course,” he smiles, hitching his gear over his shoulder, “Nothing more peaceful than a body of water at twilight. I’ll leave you to it then. Same time tomorrow?”

“See you then.”

He left Cas, footsteps light on the pier until they disappeared into the ground. Now alone, Cas allowed himself the luxury of dulling his senses. Limiting his grace to only on what he could see and sense in his line of sight. Like putting blinders on a racehorse. Cas needs the extra effort, otherwise he will be returning to his cabin without catching anything.

Again.

If it takes all night Cas will stay rooted to the pier. If he needs to dive into the lake and catch one with his bare hands, he will. If Chuck appears with a fish in hand, offering it only if Cas prays, his knees will buckle without question.

Cas cannot screw this up.

One star sets and a million take its place, dotting the sky like freckles across soft skin. He clears his head of those thoughts, leaning forward in his seat. Tightens his grip on the fishing pole and quells the yawn bubbling in his chest before it can burst.

Fighting exhaustion is new territory, but Cas will not relent. Fishing a welcome alternative to the chaos of sleep. Where any possibility comes to life when he allows humanity to color his actions.

The first night in the cabin he fell asleep between infomercials. One moment learning about how easily knives can dull after constant use and the next staring into familiar green eyes, hard as the last time he saw them.

Their last encounter looped frequently in his mind, but given the wild ranges of sleep that memory grew and twisted into something unrecognizable. Dean’s face shifted into something crueler, and his sharp words were more precise. An intent to maim instead of wound driving his actions, carving into Cas like a frog in a science class. In those dreams Cas didn’t move on, unable to. Glued to the floor while Dean transformed into a hellhound and tore him limb from limb. The last thing he saw were those green eyes and then he woke up. Public access playing, showing a man and two women trying to cook something live.

Hours passed with a snarling Dean trapped in his mind, unable to forget. That dream haunted him most nights when the need for sleep overpowered him.

But it wasn’t the dream Cas feared.

Two nights ago Cas laid on the bed, eyes drifting shut. Preparing himself for the hellscape most likely greeting him.

His dream placed him in another area of the Bunker entirely. A familiar room, although he never spent too much time there. It wasn’t his . Except waking up on the bed, dressed in a black shirt and hot dog pajama pants that certainly weren’t normally part of his wardrobe, he never felt more right . Finding the other side empty, Cas shuffled from the room and followed the enticing smell of bacon drifting out the kitchen.

He froze under an entryway. Sam sat at the table across from Jack, discussing a section in the book while the younger boy happily ate his cereal. Mary carried a plate of bacon over to them, ruffling Sam’s hair while she took her seat.

And over by the stove, draped in his apron, stood Dean. The other man smiled at him like he used to, gaze soft in their adoration. Dean beckoned him closer, Cas unable to resist. Cas floated over and wraps his arms around the other man’s waist. Buried his nose into his collarbone and breathed him in deeply. Delighting in the mix of sweet from the laundry detergent and savory from the bacon that sticks to his skin. Kisses the skin there, lips curling hearing Dean’s laughter.

Learning it was a dream nearly broke Cas. He spent the entirety of that day holed in the cabin, wrapped in the blankets.

His hands tremble thinking about it. Cas steadies them, thinking of fish and nothing else. Fish to catch. To release. To cook or to display. To tell his friend when he sees him again. To do absolutely anything with.

Once he catches a fish than anything is possible.

At least two more hours pass with nothing biting. Cas, used to waiting, finds his patience thinning. He taps his foot rapidly against the deck. “Is it always like this?” he asks himself, mumble echoing across the placid lake, “Or is it me? Will I always be waiting for nothing ?”

Cas promised he would move on. It’s a poor show of it.

In fairness, Cas’s response served only to wound Dean as harsh as the other man did him. Given the space to breathe, however, Cas realized after all that talk he had nothing to show for it. Spent days driving across America, stopping only to refill his truck until he finally decided to pitch his flag down when he heard of a cabin for rent. A cabin with easy access to one of the most plentiful lakes in forty-eight states.

A claim Cas proves untrue with each passing day.

“One of the most relaxing things you can do,” he growls, stretching his legs until they threaten to slip off the dock. “Peaceful… clears your mind… I don’t know why I talked myself into doing this.”

Lies. Cas saw the lake and the dock and reflected on simpler times. When the world was only a man, an angel, and the scant inches between them.

Even when he moves on, he fails.

He frowns at the water, barely visible given his dwindling powers. It looks more like ink than the liquid mirror during daytime. Reminds him of another far off place, and the invitation of sleep beckons even louder.

Cas pinches his leg, stubborn until the end. Steels his nerves and brushes the sleep from his shoulders. “This is my mission,” he says, “All that matters is the fish… if I could catch one fish…”

The lake answers. Something tugs on his line, startling Cas. He stares at the pole while it bends towards the water. A beat passes before he realizes what that means. Cas jumps from his chair, knocking the cheap plastic to the ground and reels his line in. Struggles when the fish matches his strength. Abuses his limited supply of grace to overpower it.

Zip zip zip zip zip . His line drifts closer, and Cas feels his face stretch with the foreign appearance of a smile. With one last spin of the reel and a tug on the pole, Cas drags his hook from the water.

He sinks to his knees. His smile vanishes in the next instant, fading like it was never there. Cas snatches the hook and studies the small, metal curve. Aware that his bait is gone, and the fish escaped. Nothing like he pictured. Nothing like he was told would happen.

Nothing went right.

Could he really blame the fish for that?

Cas chuckles. A cruel, hollow sound that starts low in this chest before drifting higher. Amplifies when he throws his head back with wild abandon. Birds scatter nearby, their crows joining his crazed laughter. Soon it chokes off, melting into sobs. Raindrops stain his cheeks, only the clouds disappeared along with the sun.

He lets go of the pole, it rolling close enough to the edge to cause worry. Except it doesn’t fall in. Stays there to remind Cas how he failed at the simple task of catching a fish. How he failed to provide. How he failed his family, his love, and most importantly - himself .

His neck droops and Cas finds himself staring at the lake again. A voice whispers in his mind, tells himself how easy it would be to dive in and never leave. Surrounded by all that water, hidden at the bottom, no one would find him. That he probably has enough grace left in him to allow for a peaceful few years with all the fish he cannot catch. “There’s nothing for me here, anyway,” Cas says, hand slowly reaching for the edge.

It pauses. Cas’s grace ignites in his eyes, and he can clearly see for the first time.

A perfect reflection greets him, Cas gaping at his own face. His head tilts to the side while he studies it. Anger boils his stomach the longer he looks at himself and distorts his features. “You’re a failure,” he says, snarling at the water, “You can’t do anything right. You can’t catch a fish, can't protect your family, and you can’t keep the trust of the man you love. No matter what you do it’s never right, never good enough. You don’t belong anywhere you’re a… you’re a… a fish out of water -”

Cas quiets, clarity poking through the dense fog of hatred clouding his mind. He relaxes on his haunches, away from his reflection. Stunned by the overwhelming ridiculousness of the situation. How easily he let himself spiral because of one false catch.

Venom drips down the corners of his mouth while Cas calms himself. Each measured breath helps douse the vicious flame that threatened to burn him. In the ash, positive thoughts can re-grow.

“You are not a failure,” he starts, “you are allowed to fail, but that doesn’t make you a failure. Failing is a natural part of existence. The only true failure comes in giving up. If you give up, it means you’re letting those who wish to see you broken win. It tells them that you are powerless to stop them. But you’re not. As long as you’re there to greet the sun each day, you haven’t failed. They haven't won.”

“And the ones who have failed,” he stutters on this next bit, heart twisting in knots, “the ones who have failed you are those who aren’t able to provide you with what you need.” Cas glances at the water again, green dots peering up at him. “Who take but cannot give in return. Sometimes you cannot fix this and that’s okay. The actions of others are not your fault. In this world we only have true control over one thing… and that is ourselves.”

A Gas n Sip display held a collection of self-help CDs that Castiel blew all his cash on. Wore his speakers thin by playing them without pause. They helped provide a safety net in his darkest moments, little nuggets of wisdom like the mantras he repeated scattered throughout.

Cas picks up his pole and stands. Sunlight begins cresting over the trees, morning arriving without fanfare. “Y’know,” he says, “maybe it’s not me… or the fish. Maybe it’s something else.”

Folding his chair, Cas strolls back to his truck and places his gear inside. “It could be anything…”

He looks at the lake one more time, storm settling inside his chest. Cas leans against his truck bed, the tiniest of smiles reappearing on his face. “It’s not my fault.”

The sun fully rises and Cas leaves.