#last night i dreamt i still knew queue

[phanaklusmos]

[alto-tenure]

some random PL textpost edits I made for fun going through a folder of things I downloaded

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 1: The Beginning

A Loki fanfiction!

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It’s your third week back in school and you're slumped over a tower of textbooks as some kind of makeshift pillow. Your head rests on the 394th page of “The Dream Oracle” where you’ve begun to drool. You raise a hand to wipe it away, which takes up nearly as much energy as trying to stay awake.

It was cold in the dark.

Chills ran up your arms, from your fingertips to your neck as you floated through the darkness. It was frightening the first few times you dreamt of it but now it was familiar. The cavern formed slowly as your eyes adjusted to the minimal light emitted by a fire below you. Small sticks and papers created a meager flame which reflected off the black pool of water you looked into. You always wondered who made the fire, but there was never anyone there.

In the centre of the cavern was a small lake, its ripples moved like serpents. On queue, your body flew over to the middle of the lake and dove in. You swam - more like sunk - to the bottom. It may have enveloped you in utter darkness, but you saw the glow. The bluish light of the object drew you in like a moth to a flame and you reached out for it. Once again, you were thrown out of the lake just as you were about to touch it.

You looked around at the empty cavern and noticed the shadows moving. This was new. Usually, you woke up as soon as the lake threw you out.

Near the shore, by a dangerous jut of rock, there was a man. He was tall, with raven black hair and a proud nose. His expression was one of wonder and fear. There was a green light that emerged from his hands and he waved this light in front of him and beside him, almost erratically, as if he was warning someone - or something - to stay away.

“Don’t come near me!” he shouted. It echoed through the cavern.

You came closer and recoiled at what he was speaking to. Every dark shadow was, in fact, a body. The green light that the man emitted showed their decaying, pale faces. These bodies moved towards him. Not a sound, but each expression was contorted painfully. Their bony hands reached out to him, and he threw a green ball of fire at them. Some flew backwards into the lake, but there were so many.

They surrounded him. You saw him put up the fight of his life, and yet they came closer still. Until he had nowhere to run. You reached out to try to help him, but your body was already being pulled away. The last thing you heard was him scream your name, “Freya!”

Hands slapped onto the desk, and your head bounced on the pages.

“My god, have you been sleeping here this whole time?” An annoyingly familiar voice said. “You wouldn’t believe it! They’re finally getting a replacement for Professor Rattowl.”

It took several seconds for you to remember where you were. You lifted your head and look into a pair of inquisitive brown eyes and an aloof expression.

Her hair was braided on the sides and drawn into a high ponytail. Her robes were wrinkled as usual. “Valkyrie, how did you find me in the Hufflepuff common room? I specifically told Thomas to throw you off.” Your voice was thick with sleep.

Valkyrie snorted. “Thomas is a fool for a flirty conversation. You’d think that boy had never had a wank before…”

The memory of the dream hit you, and your heart sank. “Valkyrie, I saw something.”

She glanced at you and then to the wall of the hallway. A long shadow approached swiftly. “Oh shit, the prefect!”

“Quick! Hide!” You said to Valkyrie, pointing her to the coat closet.

A gleaming head of blonde hair turned around the corner and walked towards you. His eyebrows were raised, and he adjusted his rectangular glasses, glaring at you. You tried not to look guilty.

“Eves, what are you doing? This is a quiet area, and I heard voices.” he walked around your desk, looking around suspiciously.

“I must have fallen asleep. I had a poor sleep last night so…”

“Hmmm,” he said, walking near the coat closet.

You held your breath as he reached for the brass door handle. “You know we don’t allow any other houses in our quarters, Eves.”

“Of course.”

He turned to you, reaching away from the handle. “Then you also should know we don’t condone dirtying the sacred pages of our texts,” he said, gesturing at your books with a frown. “Clean this up and head to the Great Hall. Headmistress Frigga has announcements to make.”

He left, adjusting his glasses again but with his shoulders straightened out as if he had done a good job. You wondered if he would pat himself in the back afterwards.

Valkyrie all but crashed out of the closet and mocked Gerald. “Sacred texts! What a prat.”

You chuckled as she took a chair beside you. “Sacred or not, this damned thing cost me twenty galleons!” You wiped the drool away with the sleeve of your robe. The inside was a warm yellow. You glanced at Valkyrie. “How do you keep sneaking into our common room?”

She winked at you with a mischievous smile. “I have my ways, my sweet innocent Hufflepuff darling,” she said, reaching out and patting you on the head. “I wouldn’t dare want to corrupt your purity with treasonous talk.”

You punched her in the arm. “You are a jock in the land of intellectuals,” you said with a smirk, glancing at her red and gold tie.

She linked her arm through yours and dragged you away from the desk. “Alright alright, miss intellectual, now that you’ve stopped drooling, let’s go eat.”

***

The great hall was washed in the warm light of the candles that hung beautifully in the air above you. It was a sight that had never ceased to amaze you, no matter how many times you saw it. The flames flickered in a soft dance. You followed the path of candles over to the head table where all your professors sat.

Professor Odinson was there, with his chiseled youthful face that made all the ladies, Valkyrie in particular, swoon. He was a handsome man, though he did not occupy your thoughts as often as he did for others. Beside him was Professor Sif, laughing humorously at something Professor Odinson said. Then there was Professor Fandral nodding and smiling at Professor Hogun - whom you guessed was discussing the riveting growth cycles of the mandrake.

Headmistress Frigga was in the middle, in her silvery blue robes with sequins sewn into intricate patterns. Her aura was one of a Queen, with a gentle and kind face. On her one side there was an empty seat and on the other side was Heimdall, the divination professor, with whom she was in a deep discussion with. His sunset coloured eyes drifted around the room before settling on you. He always knew. You smiled back and waved at him. He nodded, though his expression was strained, perhaps even troubled.

For a moment you wondered if he knew what you had dreamed. Heimdall was one of the greatest seers of your time, and you happened to be his favourite student. He already knew of your repetitive dreams regarding the cavern, but you needed to tell him about the strange development - and the mysterious man you saw. Most of the time your dreams were fuzzy, but you remembered his face with an aggressive lucidity. Blue eyes that reflected the green magic in his hands before they disappeared into darkness remained on your mind. You took a deep breath and pushed it away.

“Did they already do the first years?” You said aloud to your table.

Mo, a fellow seventh year Hufflepuff, nodded. “Yep, and I guessed about 25/30, not bad, eh?”

You smiled at him and turned around to Valkyrie, who was right behind you, seated at the Gryffindor table. She winked at you when delicious food marvellously populated the table and you all tucked in. She filled her plate and then roughly rocked Mo to the side and sat down beside you.

“What were you saying about Rattowl?” You said, biting into a chicken hand pie. The rich flavour of creamy peas and carrots filled your mouth, and you reveled in it for a brief moment.

Valkyrie had half a mouthful of sausage and chewed loudly. “Well, it’s been what? A month since he croaked?”

A Hufflpuff girl across from you both, Nila, balked at Valkyrie. “How can you say that? He was...killed.” She could barely say the last word.

Valkyrie gave her a look. “What? It don’t make no difference, does it?”

Nila huffed indignantly. Mo interjected. “Well, it’s not every day a professor disappears for three weeks, only to be found ripped apart in the Forbidden Forest.”

You all wrinkled your noses in a few seconds of awkward silence. He was right. It was a bizarre and terrible thing to have happened. You had no love for Professor Rattowl. He was a cranky old man with awful manners, but he did not deserve such a fate.

Valkyrie said, “Well I heard that the Headmistress’s son is going to be the new potions teacher.”

You raised your brows. “Professor Odinson has a brother?”

Valkyrie’s eyes lit up at the mention of him. “If there are two Thor Odinson’s, then I will die this very moment.”

You, Mo, and Nila rolled your eyes at her when the doors crashed open in an echoing sound. All the chatter in the Great Hall was silenced when a lean and tall figure in a black cloak strolled into the room. His languid pace revealed a streak of arrogance - or confidence - as he walked down the hall, towards the head table. He walked between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables and slowly removed his hood.

You audibly gasped when you saw the raven haired man with his high cheekbones and proud nose. His blue eyes snapped towards you, and you felt your face heat up in seconds. He kept his eyes on you briefly before looking back at the head table. You breathed again once he was well past you.

Valkyrie looked at you questioningly. She whispered, “what’s going on?”

You could not take your eyes off of him and whispered back, “later.”

Everybody at the table rose, and Headmistress Frigga spoke with her wand pointed at her neck. “We will never forget our dear Professor Hubert Rattowl and the legacy he leaves here. The tragedy of his passing will remain a bitter memory in the long colourful history of Hogwarts. It has been a terrible time trying to fill this role, and our surprise guest has been gracious enough to accept our invitation. Professor Loki Laufeyson’s entrance may give you a taste into his exciting curriculum as the new Potions Master.” She gave him a warm smile.

He walked over to his seat and placed his hands on the table to look out at the students. There was something both inviting and dangerous about him. You could not look away.

He smiled widely and raised his hands. “Your potions saviour is here!”

The students clapped and eventually broke into applause. The Slytherin table was particularly ecstatic. There was no mistaking what house he belonged to. He looked at every table with a wide grin, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. They rested on you and your heart stopped. They flickered away, and he moved on before sitting down as the Headmistress continued her announcements.

Your hands were still clasped together in mid clap as you looked at the same man that was in your dream. His screams echoed in your mind and you wondered if this was all a nightmare. Regardless, it was going to be an interesting semester.

[mmvalentine]

The Pianist pt 4 | Jurdan

Modern AU. Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 5

Jude woke up with a bad taste in her mouth and cotton wool in her brain. She groaned, groped around on the night stand for her phone and had to look at the screen through one eye because the light hurt her.

Does Cardan wake up like this every day? Jude wondered. And if so, how was he not dead?

Cardan. Shit.

Jude had a vague memory of kissing Cardan at Locke's party, but she was not entirely sure that she hadn't dreamt it. Fuck it. Cardan had been with so many girls she very much doubted one drunk kiss at a party would even register for him. Jude refused to be embarrassed.

In fact she was pretty sure that what she was actually feeling was annoyance, since he a) had managed to get under her skin even though she absolutely didn’t want him there and hadn’t invited him and b) was now striking up some exercises on the piano that sounded like he was playing them on the inside of her skull. Since when did Cardan start anything before lunch?

Jude tried to roll over and go back to sleep. Luckily for her, this was her one day a week off from all three of her jobs. Unluckily for her, Cardan was only just getting started.

Twenty minutes later, there was a pause. Jude sighed her relief as the infernal exercises finally stopped- only for a furious Baroque piece to begin. “No no no no,” Jude yelled. She flung back her covers, still dressed in the black dress from the night before, with bed hair and yesterday’s makeup, and stalked out the door barefoot.

Through the fire door, up one flight of steps, and down the hall to Cardan’s flat. She hammered her fist on his front door.

"Cardan!" she barked. "Cardan you insufferable ass!"

The piano stopped, and before he could get to her she yanked the door handle. It was unlocked, and Jude opened the door to a very surprised Cardan who was himself just reaching for the knob.

"Jude?"

"Yes Jude, hello it’s me your downstairs fucking neighbour who cannot sleep through this racket!"

Cardan just stood and stared at her. Some quiet part of Jude’s mind was sure she looked like a madwoman, but the louder part ignored it and continued the tirade.

"I mean for fuck’s sake Cardan what do you have against sleep?" She flung the words at him. “You keep me up all through the night because you refuse to operate during daylight hours like a normal person, and then the one time I want to sleep in, the one time- Cardan do you know I never ever ever sleep in? And then this one time I think maybe I’ll just relax a little, here you are like you’ve got some kind of personal vendetta against me getting a full eight hours!"

She paused to draw breath, and still Cardan just stood there. It was infuriating.

"Well?" She demanded.

And then Cardan put both his hands around her face, and pulled her mouth to his.

The heat was instant. Jude burned up under it in for a second, then realised what was happening and cut the kiss off.

But Cardan was having none of that. He pulled her right back to him, and Jude did not have enough willpower to break away a second time. The shocking fever of it wiped out all logical thought and the next thing she knew she was folding her arms around his neck. Cardan wrapped his own around her waist, stooping a little to reach her and then pulling her up against his body. He took a step back and Jude let him lead her into his apartment, the door closing softly behind them.

Cardan moved his mouth against hers and when his tongue lashed out she was only too eager to meet it. She scraped her nails against his neck as his hands slid into the tangle of her hair.

Jude took another step forward, and Cardan backed into a lamp. It toppled over noisily, but he didn’t let her stop the kiss. Just moved them to the side, where Jude’s back hit a shelf and two books fell out. Cardan didn‘t seem to care at all. Pushed her further into the wall while his teeth found her bottom lip, and knocked a frame down as his hand hit the plaster behind her.

Jude tugged him closer at the waist, and returned every one of his kisses. She might have kept kissing him all day, he tasted so good, but then in between one breath and the next he whispered her name, and she realised.

She was making out with Cardan.

Jude shoved him away, hard, and stormed out the door without a word.

////

Cardan didn't see Jude for a week after that.

It was strange, they had been in each other's proximity for a long time now and not had a lot to do with each other but now, somehow, he was quite sure she was avoiding him.

He didn't know quite what to feel about that kiss.

In his defence, she had started it. That night of Locke's party- no, before that. The night she started singing him to sleep through the air vents. She had floated into his life through his ears and now her absence chafed like a burr in his shoe. Of course, in the past days there was no singing. Not even when Cardan lay there for an hour, waiting to hear her voice.

Locke had seen her.

In spite of the mess that had been that party, and the morning after, it seemed that Jude had taken on Cardan's advice and agreed to meet with Locke for the play.

And according to Locke, things were going very well. He raved about Jude's voice, which irritated Cardan to no end. He had put his ear to the carpet just to hear her, and now he had to share her with Locke? Prick.

Locke, as always, had an easy time of assembling the rest of his cast. Cardan did not think him a bad writer, but he did suspect the queues for his casting call had more to do with who his father was than with his skills as a playwright.

He had been auditioning for a couple of weeks now, and with Jude in place, he was ready to call his first cast meeting. Cardan, Nicasia and Valerian were expected to attend too- Nicasia and Valerian never missed a chance to be on stage, and Cardan was invited for his "musical ear."

So there they all were, on a Friday evening, in the old theatre Locke's dad let him use. Waiting for the last few people to arrive. When Jude walked through the door she nodded to Locke, but avoided Cardan's gaze.

Fine, he thought. If she didn't want to talk to him, he certainly wasn't going to force her. He thought of the rant she had loosed on him that morning last week, and figured it was probably better this way.

Finally, Locke called them all to attention, and Cardan sat in the back row with Nicasia and Valerian as Locke addressed them all from the stage. Cardan put his feet up on the chair in front of him, and let Nicasia doze on his shoulder while Valerian picked things out of the soles of his boots with a pocket knife.

"So without further ado,' Locke was saying, may I present to you our stunning leading lady, Taryn."

Cardan looked up. The small group were politely clapping as a tall, thin woman stood and nodded at them all. She was all blonde hair and heroin chic, just Locke's type. But what about-

"And of course our vocalist, discovered by yours truly and pulled from the bowels of the subway tunnels, Jude!"

The group applauded mildly again, but Jude did not stand up. Locke continued. "Jude is going to provide the singing voice for Taryn, although I haven't decided whether we're going to pre-record or get her to sing live backstage."

What?

"What?" Jude demanded. The cast went quiet. "You want me to sing for Taryn?"

"Yes, of course," Locke said. "You've got a lovely voice, Jude, but Tarym looks more the part, don't you think?"

"Well you didn't fucking tell me that when I agreed to do this, Locke."

"Jude," Locke held up his hands. "Please stay calm. I'm sorry if you misunderstood."

"If I misunderstood? You lied to me. Why in the hell would I want to stand around behind a curtain so that someone prettier than me can get the credit?"

"Aw come on, Jude. It's not like that. This is a very common practice in show business," Locke insisted.

Now that the drama was amping up, Nicasia and Valerian were suddenly paying attention.

"Yeah come on, Jude," Valerian called down. "It's a compliment, you have a great face for recording!"

"Darling, these are all Juilliard trained performers," Nicasia added. "You didn't actually think you were going to be on stage did you?"

"I didn't ask to be here," Jude said, picking up her bag. "Fuck this, and fuck you guys slowly with a fork."

She strode out the door, right past their row.

"Jude, wait," Cardan said, scrambling out of his seat.

"You stay the hell away from me," Jude hissed, then the door slammed behind her and Nicasia burst into hysterical laughter. Cardan looked back down toward Locke, who was shaking his head tragically.

"This is why you never hire amateurs," he said sadly, and in that moment, Cardan hated them all.

****

Hooo boy okay a lot happened in this chapter! We are in a two week lockdown after a COVID break out so I guess you get lots of writing this weekend. Someone please hug them for meee

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish @story-scribbler

[jackoshadows]

Do you think that Daenerys will burn kings landing in the books? She did it on the show and she has to show the strength of her dragons in Westeros like in Essos.

For the answer to this question, I would direct you to Dany blogs that dissect her story arc using the books. You could read their theories and speculations based on the books and come to your own conclusion on this.

As for my speculations on this,

1. Dany has done nothing so far in the last 5 books that leads towards her going on a random rampage in KL. She has shown a lot of concern and care towards the civilians and common folk of Essos. More than the likes of Robb Stark for example.

2. Dany burning down KL would turn her into her father. This goes against what I think is GRRM’s message in the series -  that the younger generation can rise above their birth and the societal biases against them.

3. That said, I do think that the author means for us to question and speculate, along with Daenerys, if she would turn into her father. This is an internal conflict that the character is struggling with and a part of her story. More on this below the cut.*

4. I think there will be a second dance of dragons between Young Griff/Aegon and Daenerys in KL. Going back to the original outline, the second book of the original trilogy - titled the Dance of Dragons -  was supposed to be about Dany’s conquest of Westeros. There will be casualties in this war. GRRM has been explicit about the consequences of war on the small folk due to the WOT5K.  Robb Stark may have had a just cause but innocent people suffered and died due to his war for independence. Even with Stannis’ march to Winterfell, we see a 14 year old soldier being burned to death as punishment for cannibalizing a corpse because he was so hungry and there’s no food. War is brutal.

5. Dany can win KL without massacring thousands. The Lannisters did it in the books when they sacked KL and no one - not even the honorable Ned Stark - complained about it. She could have done it on the show and won - except, suddenly pacifist Tyrion kept advising against it. In fact if the dragons act as a nuclear deterrent, there will be less casualties. Aegon the conqueror won the North without a single casualty.

5. Westeros is already in a bad way and winter has come to KL by the end of the fifth book. Dany will end up in charge of a war torn Westeros down south. By which time, the North is overrun, Winterfell is lost and the survivors head south. IMO, the Others will not be defeated at Winterfell in 30 minutes like on the show. They are the central antagonists and the last book will mostly be about the rest of Westeros uniting against them. Dany will acknowledge the central premise of the series - ‘ When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?’  and joins Jon, Bran, Arya and others to defeat the army of the dead.

6. I have no idea how her story will end in the books. Considering she dies on the show and if it’s the same in the books, I would think that if she goes out she will go out a hero and not a villain. There’s a lot of prophecies associated with her and I would speculate that her character is instrumental in defeating the Others. Fire and Ice and all that.

7. And speculate is all we can do, considering we will never get the last book and a conclusion to GRRM’s version of the story.

* Now to expand a little bit on the point number 3 above.

I would like to comment on a line of thought/discourse regarding Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow and Targaryen madness.

I have seen a few posts from time to time making the assertion that if one speculates on mad queen Dany, but does not do the same for Jon Snow, then this is sexism. I disagree.

Now, if one is making that argument that by genetics, Daenerys Targaryen is designed to go mad and she will go mad, burn down KL and die while Jon goes on to be King or goes into exile etc. then yes, this argument would indeed be sexist, IMO. If we are going to speculate based on Targaryen genetics, then, not much is different between Jon and Dany. They are both Targaryens. Dany is not fire proof and neither is Jon. While Dany has some strongly prophetic dragon dreams, there are indications that Jon’s dreams are prophetic as well.

“Sleep came at last, and with it nightmares. He dreamed of burning castles and dead men rising unquiet from their graves”

He has dreamed of Winterfell burning, of Ned being executed, of being told that he is not a Stark by the old kings of winter in the crypts where his mother is buried and of Bran as a weirwood.

Jon’s dream here is very similar to what Dany dreams of:

“Snow,” an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. As the dead men reached the top of the Wall he sent them down to die again. - Jon Snow

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper’s rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent.- Daenerys Targaryen

We know zombie ice spiders are going to be a thing. And the armor of black ice that Jon references here could be Euron Greyjoy’s black valyrian steel armor.

So if Dany is going to go mad because of genetics, then there is every chance that Jon will as well.

But from a narrative point of view, the author wants us to question if Dany will go the same way as her father. The mad king Aerys III is a part of Dany’s story. She questions if she is going to become her father. Other characters – allies and enemies – do the same. It’s a conflict that Dany wrestles with as she comes to terms with her Targaryen identity. It’s an obstacle she faces as she takes on both enemies and friends.

"Freedom to starve?" asked Dany sharply. "Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?" Am I mad? Do I have the taint? (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

A shadow. A memory. No one. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once. (ADWD, Daenerys II)

The old knight did not blink. "Your father is called 'the Mad King' in Westeros. Has no one ever told you?"

"Viserys did." The Mad King. "The Usurper called him that, the Usurper and his dogs." The Mad King. "It was a lie."

"Why ask for truth," Ser Barristan said softly, "if you close your ears to it?" He hesitated, then continued. "I told you before that I used a false name so the Lannisters would not know that I'd joined you. That was less than half of it, Your Grace. The truth is, I wanted to watch you for a time before pledging you my sword. To make certain that you were not . . ."

". . . my father's daughter?" If she was not her father's daughter, who was she?

". . . mad," he finished. "But I see no taint in you."

And then there is the discourse that her enemies start about her being mad. The propaganda that she is just like her father. Propaganda that will no doubt be also used in Westeros.

The clever Volantene swordsman who always seemed to have his nose poked in some crumbly scroll, thought the dragon queen both murderous and mad. "Her khal killed her brother to make her queen. Then she killed her khal to make herself khaleesi. She practices blood sacrifice, lies as easily as she breathes, turns against her own on a whim. She's broken truces, tortured envoys … her father was mad too. It runs in the blood." (ADWD, The Windblown)

Madness and the mad king is nowhere in Jon’s story arcs or narrative themes. GRRM still thinks that R+L=J is some big secret and was so impressed that Benioff and Weiss figured it out he gave them the show. The author does not question whether Jon is going to become a mad Targaryen with a fascination for burning people to death.

Jon’s internal conflicts and the problems he has to surmount are different in nature. He is a bastard born of ‘lust and deceit’. If we want a connection here to the Targaryens that explores Jon’s narrative arc, then there is the Blackfyre rebellion. Daemon Blackfyre’s attempt to usurp the throne is used as an example in Westeros to be wary of all bastards, noble or base born.

So if the speculation is that Dany is going to turn into her father and become the mad queen, then the narrative equivalent for Jon would be that he would be a deceitful usurper who takes Winterfell from his trueborn siblings.

And this is something that is explored in Jon’s story.

When Stannis offers Winterfell to Jon, the only reason he does not accept is because of his oaths as a NW brother and his reluctance to burn down the heart trees in Winterfell. But in his heart, he wants it.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger … he could feel it. — Jon Snow, ASOS

Just as Dany wrestles with whether she will turn into her father, Jon wrestles with his feelings of wanting Winterfell and feeling ashamed of those feelings.

His dreams in regards to this are interesting:

The world dissolved into a red mist. Jon stabbed and slashed and cut. He hacked down Donal Noye and gutted Deaf Dick Follard. Qhorin Halfhand stumbled to his knees, trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood from his neck. "I am the Lord of Winterfell," Jon screamed. It was Robb before him now, his hair wet with melting snow. Longclaw took his head off. Then a gnarled hand seized Jon roughly by the shoulder. He whirled …- Jon XII, ADWD

Jon literally beheads Robb in his dreams.

There is a lot of speculation here that after he comes back from the dead,  we are going to get a darker Jon Snow who is going to go after Winterfell and not care much about the trueborn siblings ahead of him in the queue. We could see conflict between Jon and Rickon or Jon and Sansa. The original outline hinted that Jon and Bran would not get along.

And just like Dany faces the ‘Mad Queen’ propaganda because of Aerys III, Jon too faces the biased prejudice against bastards because of the actions of Daemon Blackfyre.  While prejudice against bastards existed before then, the Blackfyres are often used as an example to caution against them.

Catelyn’s hatred for Jon Snow is based on the fear that someday he would usurp and take away Winterfell from her children.

“Not unless he’s legitimized by a royal decree,” said Robb. “There is more precedent for that than for releasing a Sworn Brother from his oath.”

“Precedent,” she said bitterly. “Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again. Should he wed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe.” - Catelyn, ASoS

Similarly the Blackfish – having not even met Jon Snow – distrusts him.

"I will permit you to take the black. Ned Stark's bastard is the Lord Commander on the Wall."

The Blackfish narrowed his eyes. "Did your father arrange for that as well? Catelyn never trusted the boy, as I recall, no more than she ever trusted Theon Greyjoy. It would seem she was right about them both..." - Jaime Lannister, AFfC

The existing prejudices against bastards in Westeros is strong.

"Trueborn children are made in a marriage bed and blessed by the Father and Mother, but bastards are born of lust and weakness." - Jon Snow

Orys Baratheon was a baseborn half brother to Lord Aegon, it was whispered, and the Storm King would not dishonor his daughter by giving her hand to a bastard. The very suggestion enraged him.

Go away, I wanted only Freys up here, the King in the North has no interest in base stock.— Walder Frey to little Walda Rivers

Bastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father he could as good a true son as Robb Stark -  Jon Snow

So both Jon and Dany face internal conflicts and the author wishes to interrogate if Dany can overcome her own self doubts with respect to her father and society’s opinions of her and if Jon can overcome his desires and personal ambition for Winterfell and society’s opinions of bastards as untrustworthy and deceitful.

If a reader is therefore making the argument that Dany will become the mad queen like her father and burn down everyone – they should also rightfully be arguing for Jon turning against his family for a selfish power grab and essentially turning into Daemon Blackfyre.

Remember how Daemon took the Targaryen sigil with colors reversed – a black dragon on red giving him the nickname ‘The Black Dragon’

Jon was referred to as the ‘White Wolf’ on the show and as per the books, two bastards have reversed the sigils. Jon’s direwolf Ghost is white and he would therefore have a white wolf on a grey background as opposed to the Stark grey direwolf on a white background.

The sexism arises when Dany is singled out for turning into exactly what her enemies expect her to be, while the Starks overcome societal prejudices and expectations and end up the heroes. That, while Dany turns into her father, Jon Snow continues to love his Stark family (i.e Sansa Stark) so much and would sacrifice everything for them.

The show’s thesis and final message for these Targaryens is that they cannot rise above their birth and are exactly what society makes of them. That their final destiny is decided from birth and that they cannot change it no matter how much they tried. Daenerys turned into her father, randomly burned down KL for no reason and massacred thousands. Jon Snow pretends to support her, gets close to her, deceives her and kills her. He becomes a kinslayer, a queenslayer, a traitor – deceitful and untrustworthy and is exiled. It was an utterly nihilistic ending for house Targaryen.

I strongly believe that GRRM is not heading in this direction for these characters. It would be very disappointing if this is what he intends for them. It would indeed be sexist if GRRM wrote Dany as turning into her father, while Jon remains good and faithful to his family. From my reading and interpretation of these books, the story is about these underdogs triumphing over their internal conflicts. The conclusion of this tale would be Dany not turning into the mad queen, Jon not turning into a deceitful traitor, Arya not fleeing Westeros because she does not belong, Bran becoming king despite being a cripple.

But that is the final answer. In the meantime, GRRM means to explore these characters and their narrative themes and conflicts. In that context, it’s valid to question and theorize whether a possible direction for Dany’s story is her becoming her father. Five books in there is nothing to support this theory, but it is a theme that GRRM is interested in examining for the character of Daenerys Targaryen.

[writingsbychlo]

put her together again (epilogue)

word count; 3238

summary; mitch finally gets the girl, and she takes her last step into becoming a real member of society again.

notes; I hope y’all loved this series as much as I did, I got the idea randomly one day, and was in love with it straight away, so I hope you all feel the same way.

warnings; none!

“You really think I can do this?”

You were staring up at him, wide eyes and a nervous expression as you clutched a piece of paper between your hands, the same resume that he had spent the entirety of last night curating for you as a surprise after seeing the advert displayed in the window of the library when the two of you had been walking past on your nightly routes. “I have full faith in you.”

“Good, because I have no faith.” You whispered the words, more like they were only meant for yourself, and he didn’t bother to comment on them, but let it slide, rubbing his hands up and down your arms reassuringly. You snorted a laugh, mischief twinkling in your eyes as you looked up at him, a single brow raised, and you waved the paper sheet back at him. “Volunteered at a group home?”

“Not technically a lie.” He was smirking now, pride growing within him as you laughed at his joke.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a voluntary experience, but I like your cunning.” He only offered you a wink, watching as you read over the rest of his half-lies as he filled your application form with only partially twisted versions of your truths. 

“Besides, you can wow them with all your languages and intense book knowledge. They won’t even need to look at the form, and the library will have a pretty new assistant.”

“Yeah. yeah, okay.” You rolled your eyes, but gave him no resistance when he pulled you close enough to press a delicate kiss to your forehead, hands cupping your cheeks, and he lingered there for a second, long enough to get a smell of your shampoo, and feel the warmth from your body washing over him, before he was pulling back. 

“Now, go. I’ll wait right over there in the coffee shop, okay?”

You only nodded, a determined look on your face that he thought was absolutely adorable, but Mitch suppressed that thought, a tight smile in response to your own, before you were spinning on your heel and walking into the library that you knew so well, familiar to you from months of visiting to get books, no applying for a job. 

It was time, for sure. Time to get out into the world, and to find your place within society. You had been locked up with him for so long, to keep you safe from anybody who would be looking for you, to take you out and make sure the information in your head remained hidden, but now, you wee free. There was no more looming threats, no more enemies lurking around each corner, you could go out when and where you pleased, and you could get a real job, You could have an email account, and a phone number, and a house registered in your own name. You could have membership cards that he didn’t have to set up, and you could make a place in the world that you carved and crafted yourself, without fear of having it all ripped away from you. 

You deserved it, after everything you had been through, you deserved to know that you had something happy that was all yours, something you earned without anyone else and without having to do something wrong to get it, something that was all yours to keep, to hang onto. 

The shop was busy as Mitch stepped into the establishment, slightly crowded in a way that made his skin prickle, and he joined the queue, hands shoved into his pockets and eyes fixed upon the menus in hopes that nobody except the barista would talk to him, and nobody would bump into him. 

He had already spotted a table free, one outside, slightly less populated in the colder temperatures, but you both had coats, and so it was perfect, and he was staring at that spot, mentally warning off anybody who might wish to sit there. He knew your order by heart now, your drink of choice slipping from his tongue easily alongside his own, wallet out to hand over some notes, and then he was taking two hot drinks, and beelining to the back of the little building.

Using his foot to push open the door, he placed the steaming mugs down on the counter, sitting with his back to the windows and wrapping his foot around the leg of the other chair to stop anybody coming along and asking to take it before you got here. He was fiercely protective, and actively tried to convince himself that it was only because he thought you deserved more, that he was looking after you in a protective way, but he was biased, and he knew it, too.

Mitch couldn’t deny it, he knew he was falling in love with you, but you were still trying to discover where you fit into the world, and he didn’t want you to feel obligated to be with him just because he saved you. He knew you loved him, as a friend, it was in every action and every smile, and every time you hung out with him. You had other friends, you had a comparison to work with, and so that was a fact he could trust, but romance and love was an entirely new concept to you, and he’d be damned if he let you fall into a relationship with him if he didn’t know that it was certainly what you wanted too. 

The bitter chill of the wind swept over, and Mitch huffed, bringing his coffee closer to himself and tearing open a packet of the complimentary sugar, a wooden stirrer between his teeth as he added ample amounts of creamer and sweetener, until he was satisfied, the dark colour of the coffee raising to a warm golden colour, and yours was still sitting opposite as he took a sip. The whipped cream on top of the hazelnut latte was melting, dripping down the side of the mug, and he knew you liked it that way, so he wasn’t especially worried about it, but he still hoped that you would arrive soon, because he didn’t want you to drink it cold.

He could see the library from here, and could see each time the doors opened and closed, watching as people came and went. Patrons, workers, deliveries, he counted them all off, but then, came you. 

Good news. He could already tell, even while you were too far away from him to see your expression, because there was a pep in your step, speedy movements as you got closer and closer, waiting for the cars to pause so that you could cross the road. He could see you clearly now, a wide smile on your face as you made your way over to him. Bright eyes, big smile, excitement flittering over your features.

He straightened up as you finally made it over to him, pressing a brown envelope down onto the table before him and pushing it across with two fingers, hands clasping behind your back as you rolled on the balls of your feet. He took the packet, running his finger under the seal and opening it up, before tipping it upside down and dropping out the contents onto the wired meal tabletop.

A somewhat thick set of forms, a handbook, a keycard and a holder to go around your neck. It was containing a balanced identity card now, waiting for your photograph and name to be printed on, but it said ‘Library Assistant’, and a folded up copy of your new contract, the ink having printed a little from where it had been folded while still wet.

“You got it?”

He stared up, watching as your straightened face cracked open with a blinding beam, a squeal following as your composure fell away. “I got it! As of Monday morning, eight sharp, I work at the local library!”

“Holy shit, I’m so proud of you!” He was on his feet seconds later, arms held out widely for you and your body crashed into his, wrapping yourself up in his embrace as tightly as you could, squeezing him like he was you, and he could feel your laugh from where your face was pressed into his shoulder.

He felt you pulling back, your fingers detangling from where they’d wrapped into the material of his jumper, and he felt his breathing pause as your hand smoothed up his chest to cup his face. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“It was all you, I just filled out an application for you.” He shrugged it off, dropping his smirk down into an earnest smile as his hands found your waist, the heat of your body seeping out from underneath the material. You were staring up at him, thumbs stroking delicately over his cheekbones as your expression went from playful to serious, and he couldn’t help the way he tipped his head into your hand a little more, treasuring your touch. “What are you thinking about?”

“I don’t just mean the library, Mitch, I meant everything.” His brows furrowed, frown taking over, and he knew exactly what you meant, but he still found it hard to watch the way the pain flickered in your eyes as you thought about your past. “I couldn’t do any of this without you. You saved me, you helped me find who I was. I don’t think I can ever repay you for that.”

“Just stay in my life, don’t leave me, and you can consider it a debt repaid.”

He knew how desperate he sounded, but he needed you, and he wasn’t going to let you go without a fight, because he wasn't sure he liked the idea of going back to the world he lived in before meeting you. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

He only nodded, his soft smile falling away as the two of you continued to look at one another, and his eyes widened as you moved again, not anticipating your movements until it was happening. Your lips pressed to his gently, and Mitch let out a whine as everything within him went blank, his mind clearing, before he was holding onto you a little tighter. He was pulling you closer, hands on your hips moving around to rest on your back as he pulled you up close to him, and your own fingers dug a little firmer into his jaw.

Soft lips, the taste of the mint lingering in your mouth spreading to his, and he let out a breathy moan as he felt your heart thud steadily against his chest. He had thought about it for so long, dreamt about how it would feel to hold you like this, and he felt like pure ecstasy was bursting through his veins as he finally experienced it. His head tipped to the side, nose bumping your own as he pushed back into you, sucking slightly on your lower lip and feeling his head spin as you whimpered at the feeling.

It was inexperienced, but you weren’t to blame for that, you’d never really had a chance to have this kind of intimacy with someone, and just like that, reality came crashing back down onto him. The timid and nervous movements you’d been growing into that only a second ago he found endearing, now made him feel wrong, like he’d taken something from you that he shouldn’t have, like he was a criminal, and he pulled back with a jolt, taking a sudden breath. 

His eyes snapped open, finding you staring up at him, a little shocked, with kiss bitten lips and flushed cheeks as you panted for breath, and he hated the effect that such a look on your face was having on him, making him want to ravish you, without a care for who might see.

“W-We can't. We can’t do that, we shouldn’t.” He took a step back, a tight smile on his face as he covered up the stabbing in his heart as he watched your face crumple for just a second, before it was going blank once again, and you were dipping your head. When you looked back up, he let out a relieved breath, the usual friendly smile on your face, and you shrugged your shoulders. 

“You got me a hazelnut latte?”

“Of course, it’s your favourite.” He grinned, taking his seat once again, and he watched as you gathered the items back up into the brown envelope once again, pressing it shut, before reaching for your mug. You didn’t sit beside him, though, like he’d anticipated, but opposite him, and he frowned. He knew it was stupid, to think such a small action meant anything, but you always sat next to him in public, your leg pressed to his as you sought out physical affection with which to ground yourself and calm down. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

You let out a little laugh, glancing up at him for a split second, before taking a long gulp of your coffee, the liquid now cool enough to drink like that, before lowering it again. “Of course not! I don’t have anything to be mad about.”

He simply hummed, not believing you, but having no proof. You looked around yourself again, and he didn’t take his eyes off of you, watching as you observed your environment, smile changing in minuscule movements with every expression, before finally, you brought your attention back to the table. 

He waited for you to speak, waited for anything, but you were content in the silence. Stretching his leg out under the table, he searched for you, but your body language changed as you folded your legs underneath your chair, subtly, but not enough for him to miss. 

“You’re lying, you’re totally mad at me.”

He hated the way his voice cracked as he spoke, but he didn’t like the idea of you being angry with him, of not wanting to be around him, of ignoring him or going home and letting him fade away from your life now that you actually had one to experience. “I already told you, I’m not mad at you!” There was a teasing tilt to your tone, a little laugh to follow it, but he wasn’t accepting that.

“Then why are you acting differently, huh?”

“I haven’t done anything different! I sat down, like, two minutes ago!” 

He scoffed, pouting a little now as he looked at you. “You’re not sitting next to me, and you won’t touch me - or even look at me, and you’re not speaking. You always have things to tell me.” You met his gaze now, defiantly, as if to prove a point, and he scowled at the action, before your shoulders seemed to sag. You slumped in your seats scratching your nail over a dried stain of lost whipped cream that had melted along the outside of the mug.

“It’s easier that way.”

“What is?” 

You nibbled on your lower lip, frowning to yourself, your eyes flicking up to meet his but barely, before you were staring off into space once again, and speaking in a scarcely audible whisper with your answer; “To not get hurt because you don’t want me back.”

He left his drink, moving into the chair beside you and forcing you to look up at him with two fingers under your chin. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”

“I think kissing you made that pretty clear, Mitch.” Your tone was a little bitter, and he almost flinched, but he couldn’t blame anyone but himself for that, swallowing thickly and opening his mouth to reply, but you cut him off; “I thought maybe you felt the same way, but you don’t, and that’s okay. It’s hard, though, to just go back to the things that made me feel that way in the first place, so I don’t.”

“But, you don’t know how you feel. Not really.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You were mad now, and he cursed at his own lack of competency with his words, but even when you were frustrated at him, you seemed to sense that he was struggling, and you waited patiently for him to work out what to say.

“I just meant that you don’t know anyone else, you don’t know if it’s me that you want! You’ve never experienced these things, you know, deciding you’re into someone more than platonically, deciding you want to be with them, going on dates, getting your heart broken. There’s a whole lot of stuff out there that you don’t even know about, yet!”

There was a softer look in your eyes now, and you shook your head, but it was fondly and not dismissively, and you rested a hand on his cheek once again. He held your hand to his face, shaking his head and twisting enough to press a kiss to your palm, but he was holding onto you now, not wanting you to retract the simple touch. “You think just because I haven't had my heart broken yet, that I don’t know what it’s like when I start to love someone?”

“You’re falling in love with me?” He barely heard himself say the words, and he felt like his eyes were going to fall from his head because they were so wide, but he didn’t miss the bashful smile, or the way you tried to bite back your amusement as he stared at you.

“Yeah, apparently, I feel that way even when you’re saying stupid shit to try and push me away.”

He was grinning himself now, leaning in and until your foreheads were pressing together, and you were sharing a breath in the cold, a weak laugh on his lips. “You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure, have been for a few weeks now, actually..”

“Good, because I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you, too.” He didn’t hesitate this time, closing the gap between your lips, and this kiss was so much better than the first. There was no doubt, no inkling of guilt that made him feel like a villain, there was just passion and love and whispered confessions before your mouths were dragging together as his heart raced and his head span, every inch of his body lighting up like the Fourth of July just at getting to know you in this way.

You were leaning into him too, kissing him back just as eagerly as you began to learn the motions, messy kisses becoming smooth and fluid between partings for gasped breaths before you were diving in again. Your coffees started to go cold on the table as you instead memorised the taste of one another’s mouths, but neither of you cared, because right now, all that mattered was truly conveying how you felt about each other in affections that were long overdue and months in the making.

“Let’s go home. I don’t want to be here anymore.” He nipped your lower lip a little, grinning at the whine you gave him, but he pulled back, brushing a finger under your swollen lip to wipe away the shine he’d left behind. “I’ll cook you dinner, and we’ll watch a movie, and this time when I get to hold you, I can cuddle you like I’ve been wanting to do for so long.”

“Sounds perfect.”

[phanaklusmos]

[alto-tenure]

faq + other random pinned post things!

palestine GFMs that have reached out to me

who are you?

the name's River. the things you probably want to know about me (pronouns/age) are in my bio. you should probably read that first. I also post my art @the-river-of-light and my writing @theriveroflight which is where you may have found me from.

why does this account have a different username lol

because my art and writing blogs are supposed to be my "public" facing blogs, and this one is where I'm more personal and get a little silly with it because it's my main. that's backfired on me a bit but I've tried to make it clear that this is not a Separate Different Person.

what DO you post here then?

I post meta/analysis for the things I like, and also edits too sometimes. (And I guess I do web weaving now?) Those are links to my tags for them. This is also where I reblog things! Art that isn't mine is tagged "unmine art" and then reblogs from either myself or my other blogs are tagged "self rb" if I didn't add anything to do them besides tags. My queue tag is "last night i dreamt i still knew queue".

why don't you have a DNI?

I don't check every single person that likes or reblogs one of my posts, so I don't really think it's useful for me. My perspective is that it's up to me to curate my Internet experience. I only really look at the blogs of new followers, and I primarily block bots and bigots.

what do your tags mean?

I have a page for that here!

you have a professor layton discord, right?

you can join my Layton discord here

if I need a content warning tagged...

send me an ask off-anon. I tag all my warnings as "cw x", e.g. "cw blood". sometimes I slip up too. political stuff will not be tagged with a content warning but I try to tag with "politics" or "current events" or something like that.

can I add your image descriptions to my posts?

please do! accessibility helps us all. no need to credit me either, but you can if you want.

[alto-tenure]

@starredfishing

Klavier in one of my favourite outfits ever!!

[stae-yong]

a dream in a bottle [j.jh]

genre: fluff, romance, fantasy word count: 11.4k

Year 2059.

Everyone has lost their minds finding solace in a world full of chaos. Dreams in a bottle are now being used like a drug in order to fulfill their wildest fantasies. Have you ever dreamt so good, you never wanted to wake up?

“You’re the dream I go to, every time I close my eyes.”

a/n: this is my first jaehyun fic, and the first fic i’ve written :> please understand if i’ve made any errors. i wanted to write this since i started stanning nct and i hope you guys enjoy!! oh and listen to this, it inspired me to write this story. hopefully it could set the mood as well.

“Happy birthday to me,” y/n said dully as she blew her candle. The smoke from her two and three candles went to her eyes which made her squint. For the past week, all she ever did was cry herself to sleep thinking how miserable she would spend her birthday this week ever since her boyfriend left her for ‘his future’ which she snorted at as she remembered how his arms were wrapped around her waist as he kissed this new girl and who just enrolled in his arts class.

She then started to arrange her gifts which mostly consisted of plain old birthday cards which her so called friends just gave to her at the last minute since her existence was forgotten due to the busy days of work. As she went through her gifts, she noticed another postcard from her parents that are probably touring around Europe. She scrunched her nose in disappointment, “What a good way to start my 23rd year of living on this planet,” she muttered. Y/N stood up pushing around all the teared pieces of gift wrap as she tried to navigate herself around the living room. As she moved, she accidentally kicked a box tas was buried under piles of garbage.

A white box with pink hearts decorated around it. On the side of a box, a sticky note was attached with a letter with handwriting that was too familiar.

Dear y/n

Happy Birthday! I’m sorry we can’t spend it together this year, you know how hard life is. But I do hope you enjoy the following days with my gift. I gave this to you to spice up your birthday. It’s definitely one of a kind, I hope you could forget your dickhead of a boyfriend with this. Call me once you try it ;)

Love,

Mei.

“If this is a box of lingerie or condoms, Mei can rot in hell,” Y/N grumbled. This definitely should be worth it. She peeled the sticky note, as a remembrance of the gift as she carefully opened the box. Inside were three small bottles of iridescent liquid that seemed like it had been mixed by a 10 year old playing with glitters and water. A small card was placed above the bottles with a note saying “The best dreams happen when you are wide awake,” with several instructions to only drink one bottle every night for good results. Y/N contemplated if she should drink from it now considering that its nearly 10pm. She spent her whole day moping around her room munching on junk food while thinking about how lonely and boring her life was. Maybe this potion is worth the try, and maybe, like what Mei said, it could spice up her life.

She took the bottle in her hands shaking it a bit as she watched the small pieces of glitter swirl around as if it was luring her to drink it. At first she tasted like vanilla, smooth and milky then suddenly it turned to taste like strawberry mixed with different other fruits. Soon after, Y/N fell on her bed as she drifted off.

————

Y/N felt as if she was thrown into a whirlpool as her head continued to spin. Bright light hit her face making her squint as she tried to slowly adjust to what she was seeing. Suddenly, people started to bump her as they made their way around the city. Y/N tried to make sense of where she was, it was a city that looked like it existed way back in the 1900s with the way people dressed. Women and men of all ages walked around the street as they clung unto their loved ones. Women were dressed in puffed blouses and below the knee skirts as they topped it with a trench coat to warm them from the cold. Men, on the other hand, were wearing top hand sand white button up with suspenders that were too old-fashioned for her liking as they paired it with trousers. As Y/N continued to make sense of what was happening, she passed by a shop where she saw her reflection, she was wearing the same thing everyone was wearing.

Great, how on Earth am I supposed to figure out what to do in this dream.

As she walked around, she noticed a long queue that led to a movie theater. Everyone seemed excited to watch this new ‘musical’ that only happens once every year and that is during the 23rd of Christmas, ‘The Impossible Dream’ was its title. She noticed that every poster posted on the streets had the same title written in cursive with a time, date, and location set. As she adjusted her coat that was wrapped around her, she noticed a ticket on her right pocket.  “The Impossible Dream, 6pm,” she muttered. “I drink a stupid bottle of dream and now I have to watch a boring musical,” she added as she pouted remembering to message Mei that she won’t be drinking anymore of her gift. Her eyes wandered from the people around her to the buildings, she knew no one in this dream and the faces she see are not even close to familiar. The place itself looks like a 90s movie setting with all the broadway and lampposts hanging around.

“Excuse me, this is the end of the line, right?” Y/N turned to look around at a man around her age with caramel brown hair and smiling as his dimples poked out. She stared at him longer as she admired his features, okay, this is definitely a dream because no one else in the real world would look as good as this fine man standing behind her. “U-um, yeah,” she cleared her throat as she gave tight smile embarrassed as she was caught staring.

“Come on, you gonna pretend like you don’t know me now?” He said as he pouted. Y/N looked at him confused, never in her life did she encounter him, maybe this is a preset of the dream but she decided to play dumb instead. “Hmmm, I don’t think I remember,” she said as she tried to think of a name that matches his face.

“It’s Jaehyun,” he said as he poked her cheek with his index finger as he shook his head disappointingly. “Are you my boyfriend?” Y/N blurted out as she felt her cheeks heat up at her sudden question. Jaehyun felt flustered as his ears turned red. “Um, well, I don’t know,” he said nervously chuckling. Y/N nodded as she turned to the front once again, boyfriend or not it doesn’t matter but for sure the handsome guy standing behind her played an important role in her dream. She tried to remember if she knew any Jaehyun in the real world but no one came close. Heck, no one even looks like him. Was she really that desperate on moving on, she literally dreamed of having a boyfriend way better than her ex? Okay, maybe.

The line started moving as people made their way towards the entrance of the theater. “I didn’t know you were interested in watching musicals,” Jaehyun said as he stood beside her as they both made their way in.

“Well, maybe you don’t know a lot about me then,” she shrugged as she gave him a teasing smile. “We’ve known each other for four years and you forget my name?” He teased back as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder to move her from the people that were constantly passing by to get to their seats. Y/N felt her heartbeat speed up at the intimacy feeling his chest pressed against her shoulder as she muttered apologies to those passing by.

“Watch where you’re going,” he muttered under his breath as he looked at her. Y/N blushed as she looked up to him. The lighting in the room giving his visuals more justice as it surrounded her head making him look like he has a built in halo.

As she made her way to her seat, Jaehyun followed closely behind as they both sat together. The play started as the lights dim but Y/N couldn’t care less about what was happening in the play as she felt bothered by Jaehyun’s presence. How did he have this effect on her when he doesn’t even exist? It was also their first time meeting. She slowly shifted on her seat to face Jaehyun in a discreet way as she tried to steal a glance at him. Jaehyun noticed her shifting taking it as a sign of uncomfortableness, placing a hand gently on the area above her knee squeezing it lightly and giving her a look of concern.

Y/N froze in her seat as she looked back at Jaehyun who was staring at her worriedly, eyebrows furrowed. She looked away quickly as she cleared her throat, nudging Jaehyun’s hand away by accident as she shifted to face forward. Jaehyun chuckled as he continued to watch the musical smiling to himself. “What’s so funny?” Y/N said as she crossed her arms trying to concentrate on the show but finding it difficult with Jaehyun seated right beside her. “You should take a picture, it would last longer,” he whispered in her ear as she felt his warm breath brush against her cheeks making it heat up. Thankfully, the lights were dim and Jaehyun wouldn’t be able to see how red her cheeks were from the constant display of affection he was showing to her. She wasn’t staring, she was just trying to capture his face on her mind so that when she wakes up from this dream she could finally move on from her ex.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for what you’ve done,” Jaehyun whispers again, Y/N looks at him in confusion to see him leaning slightly to her side with eyes still focused on the show. “What have I done?” She said raising a brow. She has only been inside her dream for 20min, she barely got to do anything except stare at the piece of art seated right beside her.

Jaehyun looked at her in disbelief as he flicked her forehead earning a smack on the shoulder. “You left me in the rain, I told you to call me but you didn’t,” he said as he looked at her again. Y/N frowned, not really knowing what to say. “Sorry, I was busy,” At this point, making up stories would only be the solution to questions as it was only a dream that she may forget when she wakes up. Jaehyun continues to stare at her with an unreadable expression. He nods anyway and she gives him a small smile.

“Are you really watching this?” Y/N asks bored out of her mind as the main lead in the musical continues to cry as she longs for her love one who she only meets inside her dream.

“No, I’m just here because I like sitting beside you,” Jaehyun replies shooting her a smile, his dimples making an appearance as they always seem present when she looks at him. She scrunched her nose in disapproval, definitely too good to be true. Prince Charming likes her in her dream, her love life must definitely be fucked up for her to be dreaming about these things.

“We can get out of here if you’re bored,” Jaehyun shrugs as he took her hand gently. He jutted his chin toward the exit raising a brow, “Okay fine, but I’m not spending any money,” she muttered making Jaehyun laugh as he pulled her from her seat. She didn’t even know how she would able to live in this dream.

As they walked around the streets, Y/N tried to ask more about herself so that she wouldn’t have to lie all the time she entered this dream. Never in her life did she experience a dream so realistic, lately, she had troubles sleeping and if she ever got to dream, it would be long forgotten the moment she woke up. A warm hand wrapped around her cold one pulling her out of her thoughts, her gaze shifted from the street to Jaehyun who was grinning at her.

“Do you remember how we met?” She asked as he swayed their hands playfully while walking. “Of course, it was definitely my favorite day,” he chuckled as he recalled how they first met. It was the first day of university and Jaehyun was late. It definitely wasn’t a good first impression to his professors considering how he got into the university because of a basketball scholarship, he used to be a star player back in high school which led him to many offers from big schools that wanted him as the ‘face’ of their team. Although, Jaehyun chose the one closest to his home as he didn’t want to stray farther away from his family, at the same time, his friends attended the same university as him. He tried to discreetly make his way inside the classroom as his professor continued to scribble on the board. Sitting down on the farthest seat as possible, he tried to catch up on the lesson they were having

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” He heard a small voice say as he shifted his gaze. There she stood in front of him, wearing a yellow dress with her brown hair softly framing her small face accentuating her brown eyes that seem to hold the stars. Jaehyun gulped nervously as he shifted on his seat.

“No, you can sit here whenever you want,” he said a bit too excitedly as he continued to stare at her. The girl gave him a small smile as she sat slid on the seat beside him taking out her notebook and pen.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” she whispered extending her arm which Jaehyun stared at a bit for too long, “Not that it matte-“ before she could put down her hand Jaehyun grabbed her hand firmly with a smile. “Jaehyun,” he said smiling which made her flustered. “Care to share why you’re late?” He whispered as he tried to start a conversation without getting caught by the professor. He didn’t even understand what was being taught anymore as all his attention was occupied by the girl seated beside him. “The traffic was too bad, why are you late?” She shrugged as she leaned closer to him with a teasing smile. Jaehyun snorted as he slightly bumped his shoulder with hers. They were close already despite the small amount of time they knew each other, “You’re watching me?” He teased as he raised an amused brow at her. Her nose scrunched as she bopped his nose with her pen. “No, I saw you make your way through the door earlier and decided to seat beside you,” she chirped making Jaehyun’s heart flutter. “If I knew better, I would say you stalk me,” he replied trying to brush off the tremble in his voice caused by the amount of flips his heart was making. “Just interested,” she beamed and diverted her attention back to the board. Jaehyun took a glance at her shaking his head at their exchange, silently taking note that he should definitely get her number after this class.

Y/N looked at Jaehyun with an unamused expression as he shrugged, “It’s true though! You tried to hit on me on the first day,” he said earning a punch on the shoulder. “I don’t think that’s how it went though!” She retorted blushing as she didn’t even know if Jaehyun made everything up. It was her first time meeting him, yet in this dream it seems that she’s been in it for years already. She did, however, like how straight forward she was based on Jaehyun’s story, maybe she did like herself better in this dream.

“You asked for my number, so basically, you hit on me,” she stucked her tongue out as she harshly tugged Jaehyun in what she feels like the direction of her house is. Jaehyun pulled her back as they stopped under a lamp post with the light illuminating his face in all the right angles. He leaned close until they were eye-contact level as Y/N tried to keep a blank expression even if her heart was basically going to burst from how close Jaehyun’s face was from hers as she tried to remember all the small details of his face. “You said you were interested first, so I guess I win this argument,” he said smiling at her. Y/N brushed it off as he pushed his face away with her index finger. Jaehyun then wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her closer making her grab his forearms for support at the sudden action. “What are you doing?” She said nervously as he started to sway from side to side as he looked at her making her blush at the sudden attention he was giving her. There was no way he couldn’t see how red she was right now. “Dancing, we used to do this all the time,” he said as he continued to sway to some tune he was humming. “I don’t know how to dance,” she muttered as she looked down trying her hardest not to step on his feet. “It’s fine, I can lead,” he said confidently as he continued to stare down at her making her stare at his chest as she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey Y/N,” he mentions when he noticed how quiet she has gone. “Hmmm?” She replies looking up to him as she stared at the area between his brows, his eyes too much for her to take, afraid that if she looks at him she might as well just kiss him there. “I really like dancing here with you but do you mind?” He says as he looked down. Y/N followed his gaze and saw her shoe lace untied itself probably because she kept stepping on them as they danced.

“Oh, let me-“ as she tried to bend down to tie it, Jaehyun pulled her up lightly by the arm as he kneeled before her making her flustered she looked around for people as he basically looked like he was proposing to her. “I can’t have you fall for anyone else,” he grinned as he tried to stifle a laugh. Y/N huffed as she nudged him strong enough for him to fall backwards catching himself with his arms as he tried to stand up.

She walked quickly as she tried to go to what seemed like her house, with Jaehyun following closely behind her as he jogged trying to keep up with her speed. “You’re welcome,” he winked making her flustered once again as she crossed her arms. “I’m home now, aren’t you going?” She said though she really didn’t want him to go yet. She didn’t even know if that was her house but it seemed like it, somehow it just felt right to be there at that moment. Jaehyun chuckled as he took a step back putting his hands in his pockets.

“I hope you had fun today,” he smiled as he ruffled her hair. Y/N nodded as she entered her ‘house’. “Stay safe, Jaehyun,” she said softly as she took one last look at him. Before she could close the door, she felt Jaehyun stop it.

“Wait, before you go,” he held the door with one hand and the other finding the back of her head as his lips lightly touched her forehead. Y/N felt her heartbeat speed up as she closed her eyes at the feeling of his soft lips on her forehead.

“Meet me in your dreams,” he said as he smiled at her before finally closing the door.

——

Y/N jolted awake as she heaved heavy breaths. She felt as if she ran a marathon with how fast her heart was beating. She was back in her bedroom as she looked around. Nothing seemed to change, except the small box that was on top of her bedside table with now only two bottles of dreams. She sighed as she checked the time, she was out for about twelve hours already, although, in her dream only a small amount of time has passed. As she made her way out her apartment, she received a call from Mei.

“So how was it?” Mei asked enthusiastically as y/n could feel her interest on the other end of the line. Sighing she continued to walk down the streets in boredom, wasting time on finding something that would catch her eye.

“I didn’t know a dream could be realistic,” she muttered back. “And there’s this guy,” she added as she thought of this is really a great time to mention a character from her dream, especially to Mei, she woulld probably think she’s gone crazy. “What guy? Are you seeing someone?” The other responded, desperate to know if her friend has finally moved on. “What? No, I mean yes,” Y/N defended.

“It’s not about my ex, actually, there was someone in my dream.” She said. “I don’t really know if I met him before, but his features are very new to me. And you know what they say, that our minds can’t make up images, and everyone in our dream is someone we have met or saw before,” she added. There was no way she saw Jaehyun, if she did then she would probably remember him judging by how good looking he was. “Really? Well, you probably saw him in streets before,” Mei reasoned as y/n could only nod in response even if Mei couldn’t see her. “Anyway, you should really make that worth it. I heard the manufacturer of the shop closed down,” she mentioned as you made your way into a small coffee shop you saw across the street which seemed quite popular judging by the amount of female customers in there.

“Well, I only have two bottles left. I’ll call you when I finish it. Thanks for the gift by the way,” y/n replied as she ended the call

The cafe she entered was small, yet had a homely feeling to it. There was an amount of middle schoolers who look like they just finished school lining up as they perked their heads towards the counter. Y/N squinted as she saw the cute cashier and barista taking their orders. The cashier with white hair that for some reason seemed to match his big intimidating eyes and sharp nose and jawline. He wasn’t as big as the barista, but his body complimented his features as he smiled towards the group of girls who tried to catch his attention. The barista, on the other hand, was tall and had broad shoulders. His hair was dyed black, but he seemed really friendly despite his strong aura.

When it was her turn to order, she now understood why a lot of women in this city practically visited this shop everyday. From afar, she noticed how good-looking the staff were in the cafe, but now looking at them up close made her throat dry.

“I would like one iced latte,” she said shyly as the cashier smiled at her. She squinted her eyes at his name tag, Taeyong. Cute. “Are you new here?” Taeyong said as he pressed numbers on his screen for her order.

“Umm, I live around here. But it’s my first time in this cafe,” she mentioned as she looked around trying to distract herself from meeting his eyes.

“Cool, may I have your name?” He chirped as he smiled again towards her raising his brow. Y/N furrowed her brows as she stared back at him, “A-are you trying to ask me out?” She stuttered bewildered at the sudden question. Taeyong laughed as the barista behind him accidentally knocked a cup off as he turned around to look at her stifling a laugh as well. “What? Um, you’re cute but I need it for the cup,” he gestured raising a cup in his hand making y/n embarrassed as she heard the girls from behind whisper about how assuming she was.

“Oh, sorry,” she said lowly as she muttered her name quickly and paying as she moved to get her order.

——

Y/N sat on her bed holding the box of two bottles. Taking one, she shook it again as she saw the swirl of iridescent liquid calling her in. The whole time she mentally prepared herself for what was to come. To say she was excited to meet Jaehyun again was an understatement, she wanted to take the bottle again as soon as she stepped home but she remembered that there was only two left.

She took one bottle out deeply breathing in and out as she downed it all feeling the familiar taste touch her lips as she entered her dream once again.

When she woke up again she was in a garden, sitting up right as she felt something on her lap shift. Looking around, she noticed she was still in the same setting as before only, it was day and everything seemed bright as people continued to walk around minding their own business.

“You look beautiful from this angle down here, but I would appreciate it if you would look at me too,” a voice says as she looked down only to see Jaehyun lying down on her lap staring up at her with a small smile on his face. She blushed once again when she saw him, last night she thought he was breathtaking under the lamp post but under the sun he looked so much better with freckles scattered on his cheeks his eyes a lighter shade of brown and his dimples, ever so present, poking out.

“You were saying?” She says as Jaehyun stood up from her lap. “I’m starting to think you don’t pay attention to anything I say,” he complained as he dusted himself. Y/N stared right at him, wondering what they would do next.

“I need you to accompany me. I have this project going on and Johnny’s too busy to go with me,” he said as he took her hand. She wasn’t sure who Johnny was but she assumed he was his friend. Though she didn’t mind what his character would mean in her dream as he hasn’t showed up yet. She noted to herself that later on she would figure out who Johnny was and probably make the most of the second bottle she took. As they neared a building that look somewhat like a huge library, Jaehyun pulled her in a hurry as they made their way through old books.

Y/N groaned as she watched Jaehyun scan through the book once again trying to find the right thing. It was her dream, why is nothing interesting happening. “Jaehyun, what am I to you?” She asked as Jaehyun’s attention quickly went to her. His ears reddened as he rubbed the back of his neck shyly, “You said you weren’t my boyfriend. And you kissed me on my forehead, so who are you?” She asked as she hesitated mentioning that kiss as she felt herself become shy as she remembered how she woke up right after. Jaehyun nervously chuckled, to be honest, he himself did not know what their stand was. All he knew was that he wanted to protect her, and that he wanted to be with her always. It was all he ever knew since he met her, it was as if it was a role given to him by the gods to stand by her side no matter what.

“I’m not sure y/n, what do you want us to be?” He asks unsurely afraid of the rejection he might receive. Silently praying she won’t say ‘friends’. Y/N was taken aback as the question was thrown back at her. She didn’t know what they were supposed to be, nor did she know Jaehyun as much as he claims to know her.

Seeing the hesitation on her face, Jaehyun felt disappointed but decided to brush off the thought. “It’s okay, you don’t have to think about it.” He said as he gave her a pained smile which wasn’t unnoticed by y/n. “I can wait,” he said under his breath as he looked at her. Y/N looked at him in surprise, it was her dream. She could say whatever she wants, “I like you,” she blurted out as she waited for his reaction. Jaehyun’s ears, if possible, became more red as he heard her confession. He tried to stop the smile forming on his lips as he put back the book on the shelf.

“Well, that’s great because,” he said taking a step near her as he held both of her hands in his. “I am absolutely smitten by you,” he added ash he wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her into a hug. Y/N smiled as her cheeks hurt. She hugged him back, now this is definitely one of her best dreams ever. “Does that mean we can go on dates now?” She said as she pulled back. If she could live in a dream, then she would want to live in this dream forever.

Jaehyun grinned, “Lucky for you I booked us a date,” he said as he winked.

“Okay, maybe I don’t like you anymore,” y/n said as she made her way out of the library with Jaehyun laughing a bit too loud behind her.

————

As they made their way out of the library, Y/N found her hand once again wrapped around Jaehyun as he intertwined their fingers together. She smiled at Jaehyun’s affection. It was as if his hand automatically finds hers wherever they go.

As you both walked hand in hand, Jaehyun led you to a planetarium. “Have you ever been?” Jaehyun asks as he navigates his way through the streets. Constantly pulling you aside as you try to avoid people walking the opposite direction.

“I’ve never been to one actually,” you say wondering if you’ve ever been to one with your ex. To think of it, you really didn’t have enough time in the real world to explore the city during your past relationship. You were either curled up in your apartment or burrying your head in books. The dates you had previously were just last minute decisions as if he was just forced to take you out because you were together. But this time, with Jaehyun, it seems as if you actually got what you deserve. It may seem cheesy, but your heart fluttered when Jaehyun mentioned that he actually planned this date. It could be a preset in the dream, but that didn’t matter to y/n, all that mattered was that someone took the time to care for her and remind her how special she is. Even if that someone doesn’t really exist, she chose to ignore the thought. If there was a person who would break your heart again, you would be honored to have your heart broken by Jaehyun. And even with a broken heart, you would choose to love Jaehyun with all those little pieces.

“You should see the stars, they shine as bright as you,” Jaehyun added as they made their way through the planetarium. There wasn’t much people walking through, and everyone was speaking in hushed voices. As they walked through the planetarium, they entered a dark room with only the ceiling illuminated by galaxies and small celestial beings. Jaehyun looked at you with a small smile playing on his lips. He was fascinated by the way your eyes seem to shine even in the dark, like your eyes held the most beautiful stars as you admired the projected ceiling of light. Y/N then looked at Jaehyun who was still staring at her in awe. “You should take a picture, it would last longer,” she beamed as he scoffed lightly.

“So you steal lines now?” he said with an amused brow lightly applauding her sarcastically as you shoved him on his shoulder. “What else do I steal?” she said as they made their way around the room. “Probably my heart,” Jaehyun shrugged as he felt his ears turn red. He quickly looked up inspecting the ceiling as Y/N shot him a look of disapproval.

“If I wish on that star,” Y/N said pointing to a projected shooting star, “will my wish count?” you asked as you stared at Jaehyun whose eyes are still trained towards the ceiling as he looked at the constellations.

Jaehyun laughed as he put his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Maybe,” he said as he looked up. Y/N closed her eyes as she clasped her hands together. She knew it was pathetic, to be making a wish in this dream. But her pleas and prayers didn’t seem enough to calm her desperate heart.

I wish I could live in this dream a little longer.

They both sat down in the middle as they continued to enjoy each other’s presence. No one was around anymore as it seemed like the whole planetarium closed. Y/N already lost track of time, she didn’t know what has already happened to her in the real world, but for sure she was sleeping for the whole day already. Jaehyun, on the other hand, was still deep in thought as he slowly laid down on the floor with an arm tucked behind his head as a pillow, the other resting on his stomach.

“Do you ever feel like somewhere out there, there’s another version of us doing the exact same thing we are doing now?” he mentions as he continues to stare into space. Y/N glances at him and copies his position as she adjusted herself to be laying down beside him. Not really knowing what to say, Jaehyun took it as a sign to continue.

“I feel like I’ve been living in a cycle. It sucks really cause everyone I know either forget me, or they space out. Or it was as if I never really know them to begin with,” he says, frustration clear in his voice. His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to stare into the black space displayed on the ceiling. “You know, the other day, Johnny acted as if he didn’t really know me. I don’t even know if he was playing with me but it was like it was his first time seeing me,” he added as he turned to meet your eyes that were just focused on him. “It’s like how we saw each other back in the theater, you both acted the same way,” he pushed himself up as he supported himself with his arms.

“It’s the same every fucking time. I meet someone knew, we get to know each other, then all of a sudden they forget who I am,”

“I feel like I’m a character in someone’s dream,” Y/N gulped nervously as she slowly sat up. Jaehyun still confused as he blankly stared at his lap. Y/N didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know how to tell him that he was right and he was just a figment of her imagination and that all of this was from a stupid bottle her friend gave her for her birthday. You were scared to say something, afraid that revealing the truth would mean that you would wake up and that meant that you only had one bottle left to be with Jaehyun. Y/N grabbed his hand and gave it a light squeeze with a smile, hopefully, assuring him that everything will be alright.

“Promise me one thing,” he says as he faced her seriously. You nodded in response as you waited. “Don’t forget me,” he says carefully watching her reaction. Y/N chuckled as she shook her head, “That’s easy to do, Jae,” she laughed as she shaked their intertwined hands playfully. “Promise me you’ll also stay,” he added seriously. Y/N froze when she heard his words. To forget him was hard, she could remember him everyday when she woke up. But to stay was another thing, how could she stay when she only had one bottle left? How could she stay when he was just a character in her dream? How could she stay with someone who only exists in her memory?

She looked back at him, and the moment she did, she quickly regretted her actions. He was looking at her with so much hope in his eyes. Noticing her silence, the hope in his eyes turned into grim acceptance as he felt her hesitation. Y/N squeezed his hand making him look back at her. She had no idea what came in her, but she decided if its for Jaehyun, she would try.

“I promise,” she said firmly, eyes burning with determination. After all, a broken promise is better than none at all.

——

Y/N felt dizzy as she tried to get up from her bed as she leaned towards the bed stand to get her phone. Her mouth fell dry, remembering the promise she made Jaehyun as she dialed Mei’s number. “Help, I need to do something,” she said as soon as the line was answered.

“What is it this time? Did you finish the bottles already?” Mei asked groaning in response as you called too early for her liking. “No, tell me where you bought the bottles,” she said as she tried to balance her phone between her shoulder and ear as she wore pants. “I need to find who made those bottles,” she added disappointed at the lack of response from the latter. “I’ll send them to you, but I don’t think they’re open,” Mei replied, y/n sighed. She didn’t know why she made that promise, or how she would fulfill it. Back in her dream, everything seemed possible but now, all that was left was empty words that she regrets saying. She didn’t even know why she had a need to keep the promise to Jaehyun, he didn’t even exist to her disappointment.

After she received Mei’s message, she quickly headed out to go to the said shop. Her heart pounded nervously as she drove to the address. It was in a secluded part of town, there was no residential area near it and it seemed like a place that no one frequented to judging by the lack of public transportation that went to the area. She had to take a cab, and the look the driver gave her meant that it wasn’t a place to be in in the first place. As she stared at the shop in front of her, she suddenly felt so alone as the cab quickly left blowing a gust of wind. The small bells tingled when she walked in. The store was small and cramped with only a small counter near the end as she tried her best not to step on any of the antique items that were for display. Ringing the small bell on the table, she tried to inspect the place a bit more.

Her eyes squinted as she spotted a familiar poster hanging on the wall between two large dream catchers. ‘The Impossible Dream’ it read as small details were printed around. Her eyes widened in shock. It was the same poster from her dream, could it be that the musical actually existed? Would that mean Jaehyun existed? Before she tried to move further to get a closer look a stern voice spoke from behind the counter.

“What brings you here? We are closed,” her head whipped to the direction of the voice. There stood an old woman who was smaller than her with her white hair tied neatly up in a bun, eyes narrowing towards Y/N.

“That poster, where did you get it?” You said pointing in the direction of it as you tried your best not to falter in front of her gaze that seemed too strong for you to handle.

“That poster was made years ago by my ancestors, does it look familiar to you?” The old lady replied. Y/N nodded in response still debating whether the possibility of Jaehyun existing was real or not. “You took the bottles, didn’t you?” The old lady pressed on as Y/N muttered a small yes. “That was a mistake, you should have never taken it in the first place. I suggest you go home and continue on with your life, dark magic is not to be played with,” she said as she made her way towards the door behind the counter.

“No! Wait, I have some questions,” Y/N protested as she tried to block the old lady from disappearing.

“Forget about it now, what you experienced is not real,” the old lady said as she tried to make her way around you. Y/N continued to block her way which made the old lady sigh. You really didn’t want to give her a hard time considering her age, but you didn’t want to leave without unanswered questions.

“You say the dream I had wasn’t real, but why does that poster exist?” Y/N said as she moved to grab the poster that was hanging on the wall. It was designed exactly like what she saw on her dream. “What is this? What is in those bottles?” She gestured desperately waiting for an answer. The old lady sighed, grabbing a small stool and sitting down. “Those are bottles of dreams, my grandmother and my mother used to make it when I was still a child, telling me that one day it would change the world and that people would go crazy to get a sip of what was in it,”

“These bottles allow people to live in their deepest desires, everything you see in your dream is just a figment of your imagination. The potion lets you have what you want,” she added as she gestured towards the poster. “Luckily for you, what you desire isn’t that bad. But for others, it became too much. I stopped selling the bottles because things could get out of hand,” she said sadly. Y/N felt like the weight of her promise was crashing down on her. There was too much information for her to handle, the fact that Jaehyun did not exist made her sick. “I know you’re sad, everyone does once they find out they can’t have what they desire. But if it makes you feel any better, I can tell you one secret,” the old lady says hesitating as she finds the hope in your eyes glint at her words. “This poster, I am guessing you have seen it before in one of your dreams?” She questions as she holds it up in the light. Y/N nodded, “I want to know if the person I see in my dreams is true, or perhaps, I am holding on to this impossibility that he is true,” she mutters as she remembers Jaehyun. She only had one bottle left, meaning it would be the last time she would see him.

“This poster appeared here two days ago, I don’t know how it got here but I assume it is something from a dream. Just like everything in this shop,” the old lady said gesturing towards the other antique items. Everything was so random, as if it was just dumped with whatever things people could find.

“I am not sure if your dreams are real, and if the people do exist. But judging from how everything keeps appearing in random, they might be somewhere out there,” she added. Y/N breathed deeply, there was no assurance of Jaehyun existing in this world, but the existence of the poster means that he would probably appear in this shop if he were to be created. The poster alone ignited her desire to find him. If he did exist, where was he?

“Thank you, if you see anyone appear here around my age. Tall, white, handsome, basically looks like a prince, please let me know,” Y/N says as she leaves her phone number. The old lady chuckled, “Isn’t that too childish for a woman like you?” She says amused at your desperation to find this boy. “He’s a dream come true, can’t let anyone get to him,” y/n replies as she made her way out.

When Y/N returned home, she felt exhausted. She didn’t want to take her last bottle just yet. It could be her last chance of seeing Jaehyun, if what the old lady said was false. But seeing how the poster showed up, as well as other things that were in the shop, it gave her hope that Jaehyun existed somewhere out there. Another thing that bothered her was the fact that if he was out there, where was he? She didn’t even know where to start finding him. She hoped that he lived in the same country for her, she didn’t have enough money to find him if he were abroad. Nor did she think she was willing to find a man who basically existed based on her imagination. Even if he did live under the same skies, it was still to difficult task to do.

What’s the most you would be willing to do for the person you love?

Y/N took the last bottle of dreams, determined to keep her promise to Jaehyun. Adjusting once again to the bright light, when she woke up, she was seated on a chair in what seems like her room in her dream. She was wearing a white maxi dress that hugged her figure in all the right places, long enough to pool on the floor while she sat down. Her hair flowed down her back with curls toward the ends as her face was dolled with light make up.

Taking a good look of herself, she was satisfied with how she looked. If this was the last thing Jaehyun would see, then she was happy that he would see her at her best. When the doorbell rang, she made her way towards the door with a heavy heart as she reminded herself that this was her last bottle. When she opened the door, she smiled as she took in the sight of Jaehyun infront of her. His hair was gelled back with a fringe curled infront of his forehead. He was wearing a plain black suit and tie with a white dress shirt under. He held up a bouquet of fresh daisies as his cheeks were lightly pink from the cold (he tried to convince himself). “For you,” he shyly said, dimples making an appearance once again, he handed over the daisies as he stared down on his feet shuffling as he felt flustered by your presence.

Y/N pouted, he was the man of her dreams. Literally. She hoped she only drank half of the bottle now, because she definitely wanted to see Jaehyun dressed up like this for the rest of her life.

“What’s the matter?” Jaehyun said worried as he saw your lack of response. Taking your hand lightly, he rubbed small circles in the back of your hand as his other took your chin beneath his thumb and point finger. “Stop frowning, you look beautiful in that dress,” he complimented.

“You’re too good looking, I don’t think I can go with you anymore,” you reply trying to play off the somber mood as you give him a reassuring smile. Jaehyun chuckled, “You should see yourself,”

Both entered the venue, to say that it was extravagant was an understatement. It looked like a greek god threw a party, out of a sudden, Y/N felt out of place with all the people passing by looking like they were raised with a golden spoon. Feeling Jaehyun’s arm snake around her waist pulling her closer towards him, she glance at him sending him a small smile as she tries to gain confidence. “It’s fine, we can leave once you feel uncomfortable,” he says as he guides her towards the entrance. “Who has the money to throw this party? It looks ethereal,” Y/N loudly whispers shooting a fake smile to the guards who welcome both of you. “Moon Taeil, he’s a friend of mine,” Jaehyun replies as he inspects the place. Y/N looks around as she admires the gold chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and tall white pillars around the place with gold vines wrapped around it.

“By the way, you look ethereal,” Jaehyun whispers close to her ear, his lips brushing against her earlobe making her flush. He leads her to their table and leaves to get the drinks which makes y/n snap back to her plan. Honestly, she really did not have a plan. She didn’t know how she should spend her last bottle, but for sure she had to act quickly. She thought of hugging Jaehyun or at least holding his hand tight enough for her to bring him to reality, but everything seems pathetic at this point. Looking around, she decided to go to the restroom to at least settle with a final plan. As she made her way through the hallways, she looks at the pictures hanging on the wall. It all looked like some portrait of a royal family, but one picture has caught her eye. Narrowing her gaze, she inspects a picture of a woman probably around her 20s with eyes set forward as if it was staring at her back.

“Where did I see this before?” Y/N mutters under her breath as she stared longer at the woman. Shit, it was the same woman from the shop, only a younger version. Her eyes widened, as she tried to find more pictures of the woman. Y/N slowly tried to reach for the frame, carefully touching it as she tried to find a trace of anything that could help her to bring Jaehyun to reality. Biting on her lip, she continues down the hall in desperation to find hints. As she neared the end, she felt a gust of wind blow towards her.

Turning around, she finds herself in the middle of the street. It was the same street where she met Jaehyun, the first time she appeared in her dream. She looks around and notices the same poster hanging around. Breathing deeply she turns around once again, “What the fuck is going on?” She asks herself.

“Excuse me, where am I?” She asked as she grabbed an arm of a woman who was walking down the street. The girl ignored her like a ghost as she shook her arm of and continued to walk as if nothing happened. Y/N tried asking different people but they all pretended as if they couldn’t hear her. She continued to walk down the streets, noticing a familiar building. The shop she visited, the one with the old lady.  Y/N tried opening the door, continuously pounding on it with her fists. “Hello! I need some help, I’m the girl from awhile ago!,” she pleaded as she continued to pound the door with her fists. “Please help me,” she cried out as she shook the door handle. After numerous attempts of trying to open the door, she decided to go back.

“Jaehyun, where are you,” she said feeling her eyes water as she ran around trying to find him in the crowd. Closing her eyes, she tried to control her dream. “I am in the party, I am with Jaehyun,” she chanted, eyes tightly shut as she clenched her fists. Her cheeks wet with streaks of tears that have escaped her eye.

Opening her eyes again, she finds herself in a bathroom. Heaving deep breaths, she looks around her cautiously, afraid that she would lose herself in her dream. After wiping her tears, she made her way towards the party. She finds Jaehyun in the corner talking to a woman around her age her hair long and straight. She looked smaller next to his bigger frame and her eyes were sparkling, y/n was not sure if it was from the light or was it just really her. The woman laughed lightly at what Jaehyun says as she gives him a charming smile. She matched the princess in fairy tales looking as regal as Jaehyun could be. This made y/n sad, it was her dream all along, but if she couldn’t bring Jaehyun to reality then he might as well just live his happily ever after with this woman.

But she might be able to bring him with her, and she wasn’t going to back down without a fight. Y/N clenched her fists, I was gone for a while and this idiot didn’t even try to find me, feeling the green monster in her heart rise she huffed out loud stomping over to the both of them.

“What happened to drinks?” She said making Jaehyun jolt at her sudden presence. “I was just about to get it,” Jaehyun answers as he glances at Y/N. “This is Naeun, a friend of mine, and this is Y/N,” he says gesturing to the both of you. Naeun gives her a small smile raising a hand, while Y/N continued to stare at her blankly.

“His girlfriend,” you scoff as you glared at Jaehyun. “I didn’t know it could take you fifteen minutes to get a drink,” she mocked as Jaehyun looked at her with an amused smile. “I just got here, what are you talking about?” He replied. Y/N raised her brow, “I went to the bathroom,” she argued back. Naeun looked at the two, excusing herself as she didn’t want to get caught up between them. “I just sat you down though,” Jaehyun pouted at her response not liking that she was upset with him. Y/N was confused, didn’t she just get lost in her dream? Or did time just stop and everything continued to flow for her? She decided to drop the topic, sitting down on the stool next to him.

“Doesn’t matter, who is she?” She questioned jutting her chin towards Naeun’s direction as she took a sip from the Andy Player Jaehyun ordered from her directing her attention towards the front avoiding his teasing eyes. “Just a friend from high school,” he said taking a seat as well as he took a sip of his drink, his smiling growing wider at her reaction. Y/N rolled her eyes as she played with the liquid in her glass, “Sure, you seem happy to be reunited,” she mocked, jealousy coating her words. “Hmmm, are you jealous?” Jaehyun asked as he leaned one arm on the counter looking at her with a teasing smile she would like to wipe off his face because not only did he irritatingly looked too good to be true, the veins in his arms were also distracting. Fuck Jaehyun and his rolled up sleeves, Y/N found it unfair, he looked like God’s favorite.

“No, why would I be jealous?” She said defensively taking another sip of her drink. “I don’t care who you mingle with,” she dragged on with a tone as she stuck her tongue out. Jaehyun laughed, “Really?  Cause I don’t remember asking me to be your boyfriend,” he added. Y/N chocked on her spit at his statement as she glared at him, “Forget I said that,” though she secretly liked how he seemed to be fine with that title. “To be honest, I really don’t want to,” he retorted. Y/N flushed as she felt herself shrink on her seat.

“I want to dance with my girlfriend, may I?” Jaehyun stated as he offered her a hand, smiling as he raised his brows making Y/N scoff. She really wanted him to stop, it wasn’t good for her heart that probably did a thousand of flips at every word he says.

She took his hand as they made their way towards the dance floor, Jaehyun’s arms wrapped around her waist as he pulled her closer, his other arm guarding each of her hand to wrap around his neck as they found themselves back to her waist. Y/N felt bittersweet, remembering the first time they saw each other and how they were in the exact same position just in a different setting. Jaehyun hummed with the slow song that was playing, lightly mumbling the lyrics with his baritone voice, as his smile never left his face, “This feels familiar,” he says lightly chuckling as he guided her once again through their dance. Y/N this time, only looked at him, no longer looking at her feet. “I think I could get used to this,” she replies making Jaehyun’s smile grow wider, his ears turning red.

“I may have not told you this earlier, but you look beautiful tonight,” he said face serious as they continued to sway to the music. “I mean, you look beautiful everyday, but you look extra pretty now,” he added. Y/N’s face scrunched up in disapproval, never fond of compliments but ever so receiving when it comes to Jaehyun.

“You look handsome as always, Jae,” she said sincerely, lips quirking up slightly at the new nickname she gave him.

Y/N glanced at Jaehyun once more as he continued to guide her carefully through the dance, her heart heavy as it seems that the thought of him not existing in reality would not leave her alone. Hesitating, she looks one more at the smile he has on his face, she really doesn’t want to hurt him. I don’t think I have it in me to hurt you, ever.

“I lo-“

“Jaehyun, I have to tell you something,” she says cutting him off as he was about to say something. Jaehyun looked at her surprise but smiled understandingly, this can wait, I can wait, l just a little bit more, he thought.

They went to the garden, there were still people walking around but less compared to those inside. Y/N’s heart was beating too loud she could hear it in her dream, she has to risk it. She needed to tell him, she had to tell him. “Just let me speak, and I’ll answer all your questions later,” she says as he looked at her curiously. Jaehyun nodded in response, encouraging her to continue as he grabbed both her hands to help her calm down.

“You don’t exist, you’re a part of my dream,” she said as she looked at Jaehyun whose eyebrows just furrowed, pursing his lips as to stop him from asking questions.

“It was my 23rd birthday two days ago, my friend gave me a gift of bottles that contained dreams. I thought it was bullshit at first, but the moment I drank the first bottle, I met you. And I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re just a part of my imagination. It pains me to say it, but I don’t think I could hide the truth from you anymore. The next time I met you, it was when we were at the park, I remember you asking me how I spaced out and how I seem not to pay attention. It was because I wasn’t mentally present when you were speaking to me. All those times I met you, I fell in love with you because you were all I ever wanted, and it hurts me to think that I can’t even have you in my life,”

  Y/N’s tears continued to roll down her face as she sobbed trying to gather her thoughts as Jaehyun looked at her with a mix of confusion and frustration. “This night, I drank my last bottle,” she says voice shaking as she felt Jaehyun’s hands stiffen under her hold.

“Remember when we made our wishes? I wished to live longer in this dream,” she says as he hugged her. Her tears drenching his suit, but that didn’t matter. This maybe her last moments with him, and her heart was hurting too much for her to take.

“Jaehyun, I love you,” she sobbed. She said it, without hesitation as she looked at Jaehyun with teary eyes. Jaehyun bit his lip, he didn’t even know where to start asking. He hugged her tightly as he felt his tears touch his lips, the taste salty as it continued to flow down his face. “I won’t tell you mine, because it won’t come true if I do,” he says as he puts a hand on his shoulder his face bending down to meet her eyes. His other hand brushed the stray strands against her face as she continued to cry.

“I shouldn’t be crying like this, we shouldn’t be doing this,” she said as she wiped her tears away trying to think of happy thoughts.

“Y/N, look at me,” Jaehyun said seriously. His hands with a firm grip on his shoulder. Y/N tried to hold back her tears as she saw the pain on his eyes, long gone the smiles he gave her earlier.

“Promise me, you’ll try,”  Y/N nodded as she grabbed his face and pressed a firm kiss on his lips.

“Don’t leave me, please,”

“I won’t, I swear,”

—————

Y/N woke up, her cheeks still wet as she felt tears stream down her face. Everything felt so real, the kiss, the confession, the promises. Jaehyun’s words still echoing in her mind as if she could hear his deep voice whispering beside her.

The moment she got up she tried contacting the old woman, and going back to the shop only to find that it was closed already and was going to be demolished soon. It has been a week since she last saw Jaehyun, a week since she has drank her last dream in a bottle. However, the heartache she went through was still as fresh as it was when she woke up. She tried her best to find him. She visited different libraries, reading on books about what happened to her and if there was a way to reverse it. She even tried going to a planetarium in hopes of finding Jaehyun there, but all found nothing. Some people thought she was crazy, and that she was hallucinating everything, but they didn’t know her story.

She even found the same venue where they had the ball, but to her disappointment, she never found anything that could lead her to Jaehyun or vice versa. It was if he was just a memory she was to forget. But that was the problem, she couldn’t forget him. She promised him she would try, and she didn’t want to let him down. Sometimes, she wondered what he was doing. Was he also trying to escape her mind? Was he with Naeun now that she was gone? Does she get those cheesy pickup lines he tells her? What was he doing now? Did he love her?

There were times when she tried to dream of him, but it wasn’t real. All she got was an image of him, but it didn’t feel like how she dreamt of him when she had the bottle. She tried to widen her imagination, and picture him with her. But it was too tiring for her, after all, she only had three nights of dreams.

As she made her way down the busy streets, she walked quickly as she navigated her way towards the central park as she continued to avoid the people bumping her while they were walking the opposite direction. She stopped in front of the cafe, heaving deep breaths. As she made her way in she walked towards the table in the corner, her lips forming into a smile as she saw the familiar face.

“It’s been a while,” she said hugging Mei. Mei grinned back at her and gestured her to sit down.

“So, how’s life so far?” Mei asked enthusiastically as she sipped on her tea, crossing her legs as she leaned forward. Y/N shrugged as she took a bite of her banana cake, “Nothing much, it’s been boring lately,” she said as she stabbed the banana cake and stuffing another piece into her mouth. “You know you never called me after the second bottle,” Mei huffed.

“Nothing happened, I tried to find the manufacturer because I needed more but the building was demolished,” she replied bitterly. “Ohh yeah, but the dreams were good right?” Mei responded.

“Yeah, too good to be true,” Y/N replied dejectedly. “Do you ever like, want your dreams to come true?” She asked Mei curiously as she bit her fork. “Of course, why the sudden question?” Mei retorted. “I dreamt about this guy, and he’s wonderful. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and I just wished he was true,” she replies sighing remembering Jaehyun once again which made her feel bittersweet. It was like she was the only one who knew him inside out, he literally was the man of her dreams.

“I don’t know what you dreamt about but whatever it is, I guess those bottles really work then,” Mei shrugged. “Besides, attachment is the root of suffering,” she adds taking a bite of the banana cake and wiggling her brows.

As she navigated her way home, Y/N sighs once again. Was it really that hard to forget Jaehyun? He didn’t even exist yet here she is feeling broken hearted as if she was cheated on once again by her ex boyfriend. Moving towards a crowd she felt people bump against her making her scrunch up her nose in irritation, “Damn, can’t people watch where they’re going?” She muttered under her breath as she made hurried strides towards her apartment.

Before she could take a turn, she felt a body bump against her as she fell on her butt looking up squinting. Pair of hands helped her stand up as she dusted herself, flustered that she caused a scene in public.

“Thank you,” she muttered quietly to the stranger who didn’t seem to budge as she tried to make her way.

“You should really watch where you’re going,” a deep voice said. Looking up, her jaw slacked. There he stood in front of her, with a light smile in his face his hair still swept back as he was dressed in a plain white tee with denim jeans and white sneakers. Jaehyun. If he looked ethereal in her dream, then she didn’t even know how to describe how he looked as he stood in front of her as she continued to stare at him in awe.

“I didn’t know you were this clumsy, I think you need to get used to me guiding you everywhere,” he added shaking his head as he took her hand in his as his smile radiated. He chuckled at her noticing her lack of response. He placed a small kiss on her forehead as his arm wrapped around her shoulder as he pulled her towards the direction of her apartment.

“How did you find me? How are you here? Are you real?” Y/N asked hurriedly as she stared at him in shock. Everyone was looking at Jaehyun, who wouldn’t really? The girls around continued to stare at him with heart eyes but they didn’t matter to him as his arm tightly wrapped around your shoulder. They didn’t matter cause they weren’t you. Y/N was too bewildered to even glare at those girls as her mind started thinking of all the possibilities on how he appeared.

“My wish came true,” Jaehyun stated as he faced her grinning at her amazed state. “What did you wish for?” Y/N asked curiously as she looked at Jaehyun who was still smiling at her softly.

“I wished I could spend the rest of my life loving you,”

Y/N stopped walking as Jaehyun grabbed her shoulders and faced her towards him. “Why did you say that? Now it won’t come true,” she scolded him as she pouted. Jaehyun laughed at her response. “I’m not going anywhere though, you got me, you got me good,” he winked making her blush just like in her dream.

“Oh and Y/N,” he added as he bent down meeting her eyes as she looked at him with flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

“I love you too,”  

[asmileyoucouldbottle]

Pink in the Night- Catradora

Word Count: 4491

Catradora high school AU. Best friends to lovers. Adora is the ever oblivious captain of the school's football team, The Horde, and Catra is just a gay panic crushing mess who's in love with her best friend.

***

“Hey Adora.”

Adora spun around, her hand still on the towel she’d just slung around her neck.

“Catra!” She beamed, and Catra felt a little stir in her chest. Adora was decked in her football attire, exposed arms accentuating her muscle definition. Refusing to get caught staring, Catra twisted her lips into a smirk, shifting her gaze up to Adora’s eyes as a blush began to blossom.

“How was practice?” She asked, shifting her weight and placing one hand on her hip. A defensive pose. Though the only enemy is my traitorous heart. Catra thought with poetic annoyance.

“Great! Though I might have a little bruise forming from a ball Lonnie didn’t aim too well, but it’ll be fine.”

“Let me see.” Catra stepped forward, and Adora brushed her off.

“I’ll get some ice if it swells anymore.” She promised, and Catra rolled her eyes.

“Any more? ” She repeated dryly, eyes roving for a raised spot.

“Catra I swear I’m fine!” Adora’s words were exasperated, but her eyes were fond when she met her friend’s gaze. Catra felt herself begin to soften as well, and an unbidden smile rising.

A heartsick pang only Catra could feel ruptured the peace, and she leaned back against the locker beside her, faking relaxation. “If you say so.” She lifted one corner of her mouth to prove she wasn’t actually mad, and Adora moved to take off her jersey.

Catra whipped out her phone to give her somewhere else to look, but she couldn’t help but peer over the edge as Adora stripped down to her sports bra and threw on a tshirt with the lettering “Etherian Horde.” The cheesy design wasn’t flattering on anyone, so why couldn’t Catra tear her eyes away?

Face practically on fire, Catra ducked her head, hoping to at least somewhat hide her cheeks.

Catra cursed Adora for having this effect on her, scrolling aimlessly through her instagram with her thoughts only on the girl in front of her. The stupid blonde with stupid mucles and a stupid adorable smile.

Actually, Catra had to admit that her own hormones were probably partially at fault too. They were also stupid.  

“Ready to go?” Adora called her attention, helmet under one arm and gym bag in the other hand. Catra shrugged her own backpack, and reached forward to grab the water bottle from the blonde’s hands. Their fingers bumped, and Catra jerked back like shocked. After her mini gay panic attack at the lockers, physical contact was not optimal for recovery. And she was nothing if not dramatic.

“Catra? Are you okay?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck- “Yeah of course I am, I just uh… muscle spasm.”

Adora gave her a funny look, and Catra shoved her shoulder. “Oh cut it out.” She scowled, and Adora burst out laughing.

“Muscle spasm?” She repeated in between giggles, and Catra felt her ears heating as she forced down a small giggle of her own with a frown.

“Yes! Now stop that.” Her voice bordered on whining, but Adora was merely set off again.

Groaning, Catra slid a hand down her face, peering at Adora through the space between her fingers. The slightly annoyed girl cleared her throat, and Adora gathered herself.

“If you’ve finished,” Catra started with emphasis, “want to go get a shake or something? I just got my paycheck yesterday, so I have money for the first time in two weeks.” Despite the fact that she hadn’t had spending money in two weeks, Catra didn’t regret anything. She had spent her last paycheck getting them both matching rune tattoos that read “Promise.”

To Adora it was probably some sweet nod to their promise of friendship as kids, but Catra held the vow close to her chest with an iron grip. Maybe she’d never be able to have this girl the way she dreamt of, but the word reassured her that Adora still wanted her… even if it wasn’t the same way that Catra wanted her .

No one except an obsessive linguistics nerd would be able to tell what they said, so Catra was safe from rumors as well. It was bad enough she’d had to survive them all throughout middle school, after one time a kid saw them holding hands. It hadn’t, and didn’t, stop Adora and Catra from holding each other close whenever they needed the other. With or without a crowd.

Even so, that was middle school. Middle schoolers were nasty little toes and always looking for someone to throw under the bus. Most of the highschool students were mature enough not to care, and if they were homophobic pricks, they knew not to mess with Adora. Not because she was threatening, rather, she was liked by everyone. But as the best athlete in this school, between both the boy’s and girl’s team, she practically had celebrity status.

That said, she also did have very big muscles.

Before she would do something stupid like loose all sense and stare at said muscles, Catra turned and stalked out the door, combat boots smacking the wooden floor. “Come on!” She called, and Adora hurried after her. It only took a moment for the blonde’s track shoes to line up with Catra’s own footsteps, so they were walking in sync. A smile came to Catra’s lips as she recalled memories of skipping together down the sidewalks, arm around each other’s shoulders while they struggled to match each jump exactly to the other’s.

As if on queue, Adora brought her arm to rest on Catra’s shoulder. The brunette scowled, as she did whenever Adora flexed the inches she had on Catra. Instead of shrugging it off, she saw her opportunity and jabbed her elbow, half playfully, into Adora’s side instead. Caught off guard, Adora yelped and stumbled before tripping and going heads over heels over a bench.

Catra peeped over to see her sprawled on the ground, head having landed on her backpack and feet sticking up in the air. Adora glared at her, disheveled but eyes bright. Laughing freely, Catra had to lean on the bench to support herself.

“Don’t just stand there, help me up!” Adora reached her hand up, a lock of hair hanging in front of her eyes that escaped her ponytail.

“Just give me a minute.” The sight of her messy hair unreasonably set her off again, and Catra held up a hand as she continued struggling to catch her breath.

Through her laughter, Catra hadn’t noticed the sound of footsteps before they were too late.

“Adora, what on Earth are you doing down there?”

“Shadow Weaver!” Adora sputtered and attempted to straighten, instead managing to hit her head again on the locker. “I was just uh, I tripped.”  Catra muffled another laugh with a cough.

“You tripped.” The coach repeated, disdain filling her voice as she looked over at Catra. Despite herself, Catra felt herself stand a bit taller. Eyes narrowing, she continued, “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself just as the season is starting to peak.”

It was clear Shadow Weaver knew Catra was to blame, and also that she had no sense of jest. That, plus Catra had the strange sense that Shadow Weaver just hated her. She suspected it had something to do with the lesbian flag in her locker.

“Of course not!” Adora’s breathy response drew both of their gazes to her, and Catra took pity, snorting again. Extending a hand, she ignored her jumping heartbeat and clasped the blonde’s grip in hers. She had a nice view of Adora flexing her arm to pull herself up, and despite struggling with the physical contact, Catra couldn’t complain.

Shadow Weaver glowered at Catra as if she could read her thoughts. It was all she could do not to stick her tongue out at the Head Coach.

“We’re going to be on our way.” Not relinquishing her hold on Adora’s hand, Catra pulled the football player behind her and away.

“Bye Shadow Weaver!” Adora managed to call before Catra made a sharp turn out of her sight.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Adora hissed, “Catra, what was that all about?”

“She was rubbing me the wrong way.” Catra huffed, continuing to march on.

“You were rubbed the wrong way? I was literally on my back the entire conversation!” Adora exclaimed, and Catra cackled.

“Oh how I wish I got a picture.” She paused to laugh, “and then when Shadow Weaver came and I didn’t help you up you should have seen your face. It was all like “ah no! Betrayal. ” Catra lifted her free hand up and dramatically twisted her face.

Adora sighed, her face melting from annoyance to a bemused smile at Catra’s reenactment. Her curved lips kicked off something in Catra’s chest, and she thought she would do anything to keep Adora smiling.

This time Adora tugged her hand as she continued her walk, and Catra looked down at their pressed palms with slight shock. She’d forgotten about taking Adora’s hand, they had fit together so naturally. Now it came rushing back, and she was frozen with not knowing if she should tear it away or let it be.

Settling for not doing anything and letting Adora take the lead, Catra knew she looked like an overenthusiastic kindergartener had taken a red stamp to her face. That is to say, a red flustered mess.  

Taking an extra large step, Catra came up along Adora’s side. Adora fished around in her pocket for a moment, before retrieving her phone. Before Catra realized what she was doing, Adora had angled the camera at their joined hands and snapped a picture.

Ripping her hand away, Catra jumped back, cheeks burning. “What are you doing?!” She spat, and Adora looked at her with slight reproach, though if Catra wasn’t mistaking, she looked a bit flustered herself.

“I was trying to take a picture of our tattoos!” She stuttered out. Catra felt a pang of guilt. I must’ve freaked her out. Again.

“Well we don’t need to be holding hands to do it.” She grumbled, secretly wondering how she could get that picture. Hand feeling cold suddenly, she shoved them both in her pocket with a glower at the traitorous limb.

Catra looked up at Adora, an awkward silence stretching. Adora’s ears were pink as she looked at her phone, and Catra tapped her shoulder.“Sorry, I just…” There were a million ways to finish the sentence, but none that wouldn’t make this any more awkward. Opting to leave it open ended, Catra didn’t finish, instead stepping forward to push open the door with her shoulder.

“Ummm… did I tell you about how Kyle let the frogs loose in the science lab yesterday?”

The momentary tension dissipated as Catra continued her story, animated with grand gestures and facial expressions. She warmed as Adora laughed, the late afternoon sun making her face glow.

***

Catra kicked open the door of Mystacor Cafe, and made her way to their typical table in the window.

“Adora,” Catra turned her head, and frowned when her blonde wasn’t beside her.

“Adora?” She turned completely around, and wasn’t entirely surprised to see the athlete exchanging high fives and greetings with groups at other tables as she passed.

Glimmer waved in her direction. “Adora! I saw the pictures you sent me, I take it Operation Get the Cat-” Her face went stricken when she caught Catra’s eye, and the rest of the sentence was finished also as a mumble, “is going well.”

Completely confused, Catra looked over to see Adora glaring at Glimmer, cheeks flaming red. She was refusing to look back at Catra.

Operation get the Cat?

Adora still wouldn’t look at her, and went back to talking to the cheerleaders, who were beginning to look a little too flirty for comfort. Trying to shake off any tangles of jealousy, Catra sighed, dropping her bag as she slid into her chair. Propping her feet up on the table, she considered the rips in her jeans, deciding that they would look even better with another a little further up her thigh.

Tilting her head, Catra studied Adora. She would look good with a few rips in the sleeves of her jacket… just to spice things up.

“Hey, Brain-Damaged!” Adora turned her head, and Catra burst out in laughter, almost falling out of her chair.

“Did you actually  just respond to ‘brain-damaged?” Catra wheezed. The group of cheerleaders who Adora had been talking with looked over at her with curiosity, and Adora crossed her arms, pink tinging her cheeks. “Well, you were talking to me weren’t you?”

“Yes, but still. ” Catra hopped up onto the table as Adora rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve called me that.” She grumbled, and the brunette smirked.

“I think it suits you.” She announced, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. Adora seemed to be seriously considering marching over and pushing her off the table. Both to aggravate her further, and make sure Adora couldn’t literally shove her over, Catra stretched out so she was lying on her stomach. Head propped in her elbows and feet kicking, she concluded “along with idiot” with a wink.

“HEY CATRA!”

Catra started, making a noise akin to a hiss.

“GET OFF THE TABLES!” Glimmer called from behind the counter, where she was working.

“Oh, can it Sparkles!” Hopping off the table, Catra turned to acknowledge her friend with a stuck out tongue. She returned it before turning back to the coffee machine.

“Are you done tormenting Glimmer?” Adora sat down across from her, and Catra looked up at her. Bits of hair were falling out of her ponytail and sticking to her forehead, and there were a halo of flyaways. It looked damnably attractive.

“I wasn’t tormenting her.” Catra emphasized. “Actually, I was trying to bother you. She just had to spoil my fun.”

“I think she was more concerned about doing her job than ‘spoiling your fun.’”

“Whatever. By the way, I was thinking about customizing your sports jacket…”

Adora gave her a wary look, ““What exactly did you have in mind?”  In response, Catra held up her long black painted nails with a wicked grin.

“Absolutely not.”

“ Ughh fine, you’re so boring.” She squinted, tilting her head. “It would look good with two little rips on each arm…” Leaning forward suddenly, she was about to slice, but Adora grabbed her wrist.

“ Catra.”  Adora looked down at her sternly. “We are not ripping up my team jacket.”

Catra held her gaze defiantly for a few moments, and there was a shift in the air between them. She couldn’t say what it was, but suddenly she wasn’t looking at Adora’s eyes, but rather…  in them. Her heart fluttered and her wrist went weak. The moment stretched, and they were only inches apart…

Adora blinked, and the spell was broken. She dropped Catra’s wrist in a rush, her eyes darting away as color bloomed across her cheeks. Catra felt her mouth fall open slightly in shock, though she didn’t know if it was belated shock from the moment or the fact that it had ended. Blood rushed to her cheeks as sat back, still in temporary mental paralysis.

Adora had just looked into her eyes, and then blushed.

But… she had also pulled away.

The mixed signals made Catra want to scream, but was there a possibility?

Adora stood up suddenly and gestured with her arm, turning her face away. “Come on, let’s go order.”

They went to the counter, ordering their usual milkshakes, chocolate for Catra and strawberry for Adora. Mere seconds after they’d sat down, Catra reached over and snatched Adora’s shake, holding it out of her reach as she “taste tested.”

Catra held it up and behind her head, leaning as far back as she dared while Adora reached over the table. “You- you pest!” Adora shrieked, and Catra laughed two times harder.

“ Pest?” She repeated, teasingly mocking. “Who says pest?!”

“Glimmer said it yesterday.” Adora huffed, continuing to reach.

“Actually, that is a very Glimmer thing to say, but not something I’d expect you to repeat.”

In a last ditch effort, Adora jumped out of her seat and lunged. Catra’s chair tipped back, and suddenly she was falling as the blonde reached forward to try and stop it.

It was like slow motion. Adora, moving in an attempt to stop Catra from tipped completely backward, stepped forward and onto a forgotten gatorade. The bottle rolled and her foot slipped out from under her, and then she was going down as well. Falling forward towards Catra while she backwards, Adora threw out her arms to stop herself from face planting into the other girl. Catra landed on her back with a shock, but whatever breath was left in her body left her lungs when she opened her eyes to see Adora’s face millimeters from her own.

A deep blush spread across Adora’s face, starting at her nose and working its way until the entirety of her cheeks and forehead were reminiscent of a cherry.

Neither of them made a move, and Catra’s heartbeat was beating so erratically she was certain she was seconds from a heart attack.

That would be a fun gravestone. “Cause of death: Gay panic induced heart failure.”

Her eyes traced Adora’s eyelashes, dark and full despite her blonde hair. The grey-blue of her eyes locked into hers, and Catra inhaled sharply.

Was there a heterosexual explanation for the way she was looking at her?

Blood rushing through her head, Catra froze as Adora’s face moved minimally closer to hers, lips tingling with anticipation, and thoughts whirring into white noise-

“Hey! Catra, Adora!”

Like a shaken soda pop, Catra jolted backwards, and Adora stood up so fast it seemed impossible. Breathing heavily, Catra tried to make up for the lack of oxygen intake from the last, what- minute? Five minutes? Ten? How long had Adora been there, face in front of hers, inching closer….

“Uh…. sorry.” Adora gave her a hand, and Catra pulled herself up. They were inches away again, and the brunette took a jittery step back. Her hand tingled from the contact, and she shoved them in her pockets, unable to look Adora in the eye.

Bow was looking between them, an unreadable look on his face.

“We fell.” Adora explained, breathless. Catra sneaked a look at her, and saw the pink was refusing to fade.

The possibility that Adora could ever like her back seemed so absurd mere week ago, even an hour, but now… Catra didn’t know.

Ridiculous.

But… was it?

Overwhelmed with thoughts and shaky nerves, she crouched to pick up the strawberry smoothie. It’s contents were all over the floor, and Catra was about to stand up again to get napkins when Adora crouched down.

“I’ve got it.” She started to clean up, paper napkins in hand. Their shoulders were touching, the blonde’s ponytail brushing her cheek.

“Uh, thanks.” Adora turned to Catra, and once again their faces were far too close.

Knees weak, Catra stood up and stumbled into her seat. Bow had turned it upright, and he was now leaning against the table.

“Sooooo…” He looked at her again, one eyebrow raised. Catra gave him a glare, and he raised his hands.

“So.” Adora plopped in her chair, her cheeks still stained slightly pink. Catra thought of the pink contents of the strawberry milkshake spilled on the floor, and Adora’s eyes meeting her own…

It was all too much to take in.

“I just remembered I have… uh… extra, er, calc homework. But I will catch up with you later!” Not even waiting to see their reactions, Catra slung her backpack over her shoulder and tried not to run out the door.

***

Scaling the tree alongside the house with ease, Catra came level with the second floor window and knocked.

She didn’t even have to wait a full two seconds before the curtain was pushed aside. Adora was wearing a black tank top and sweatpants, her hair up in it’s classic ponytail, though it was messy, as if she hadn’t bothered to redo it since this morning. Catra tried to ignore how the tips of her ears felt slightly warmer.

The window opened with barely any complaint, and Adora poked her head out. “What’s up?”

“I’m heading up to the roof if you want to join me.” Catra let go of the branch with one hand, so she was leaning out precariously.

“Show-off.” Adora mumbled, and Catra winked. The blond’s gaze immediately flicked away, and Catra felt a little jump in her chest. Adora turned to grab a blanket before starting to crawl out of the window with some difficulty, despite having done this regularly since they were kids. Catra leapt up the branches until the top of the house, where she transferred to the roof with ease. Adora came in her own time, and settled beside the brunette, shoulders touching as their legs dangled over the edge. The sun had just set, and a hazy dusk was settling over the town as they looked out.

They didn’t speak for a while, just sat with each other. For years they’d been doing this, and they had gotten to the point where silence spoke just as much as words.

But now, the silence was charged, and Catra’s mind was full. Full of Adora. The girl beside her, who had always been beside her. She who had bangaded scraped knees, laughed off mean spirited teasing, taught her how to ride a bike, sat with her when no one else would… all the way up until their relationship now. The person who was always there for her, whether it was to do something small like make fun of Shadow Weaver’s pretentious dresses, or provide a place to stay when her parent’s fighting got too loud.

Fueled by these emotions, Catra moved her hand to settle on top of Adora’s.

Adora started. Catra kept her hand there, frozen as she waited for Adora to make a move, waiting for rejection. Though the action itself was miniscule, Catra could feel how everything shifted.

Her hesitation was brief, but the time it took almost killed Catra. Instead of moving away, she flipped her own hand palm up and intertwined their fingers.

She felt a flutter as her breath caught. Feeling almost above her body, Catra turned to look at Adora. A moment later, the blonde turned her face as well.

The space between them was practically nothing, and the rest of the twilight fell away as she caught Adora’s eyes. There was something there, a wanting, as they searched Catra’s own.

Adora leaned forward, and Catra did the same.

The twilight fell away, as did her stomach. The kiss was tentative, and lasted only a moment, as if they were both uncertain. When they met each other’s eyes again, Catra moved back the tiniest amount.

“Do you really want this?” She asked, her heart and voice trembling with anxiety. This was the chance for Adora to back out and pretend it hadn’t happened, or admit that it was spur of the moment and unwarranted. She could end all of this with a single word. Dread slithered through Catra, but she remained firm. She wouldn’t take advantage of this if it wasn’t okay with both of them.

Adora took both of Catra’s hands in hers, and gave her a wide smile, one that sent Catra’s stomach whooshing and her heart floating. “Absolutely.”

Catra beamed back, full of light. This time, there was no hesitation.  She brought her lips to meet Adora’s again, and put all that she had, years of yearning and wishing, into it. Though her emotions hit her with all the power of a comet, the kiss was tender. Sweet. Loving.

When they parted, Adora grinned, looking practically starstruck.

“Wow.” Her voice had taken on this sort of… dorky… quality, and Catra couldn’t help but giggle.

“You dummy.” She rested her forehead against Adora’s. “I love you.”

The words, spoken with sudden bravery, seemed maybe a little too heavy for someone who she had only kissed twice. Or was it once? Did it count as two?

Either way, Catra knew it was true. She’d known it was true for years, but she had no idea if they would ruin this beautiful thing they’d just created. So she tensed, waiting for the fall.

“You love me?” Adora repeated with slight disbelief, but not repulsed.

Catra laughed lightly. “You are such an idiot.”

“I love you too.” Catra turned to look up at Adora, her turn to be shocked. After the kissing, she was expecting her to like her at least, maybe a lot, but…

Love?

Adora’s eyes said it all, and feeling close to bursting, Catra responded by closing the gap once more.

With the knowledge that this actually meant something, it was even better. Catra brought her other hand around Adora’s waist, and they leaned into each other fully. A warm feeling spread throughout her, and Catra thought about how long she’d wanted this. To love Adora, and be loved back.

Adora leaned forward a little more, and every thought left her head besides Adora’s lips.

It was messy and warm, just like the two of them. Darkness was coming in on them rapidly, but Catra never wanted to leave this roof. Not if it meant she got to have Adora.

Breaking apart, Catra remembered that Adora was wearing a tank top, and she wasn’t too warm either with her fishnet sleeves. With slight disappointment, she reached over and grabbed the blanket that Adora had carried up. Adora took one side, and threw her arm over Catra’s shoulder, bringing her in close. Catra tucked herself into Adora’s side, contentment washing over her.

The sky was a shade of blue that couldn’t be described as light nor dark. It was dusky, and Catra noticed the first star. Nudging Adora slightly, she pointed. “Look.”

There was a moment of silence, before Adora asked, “What did you wish for?”

Since they were kids, they’d always come up here to watch for the first star and make wishes. And of course they’d always share their wish with each other, because the “bestest of friends” bypassed the rule about your wish not coming true. Instead, they had declared, if we told each other, the wish would be twice as strong. Because if Catra wanted something, Adora wanted her to have it, and visa versa.

Catra didn’t have to think too hard before finding a simple truth. “More nights like this.” She decided, looking up at Adora.

Her face melted into another smile. “Wish granted.” She declared, resting her head on top of Catra’s.

“What about you?”

Adora considered. “I actually think I have everything I want right now.”

“You sap.” Catra whined, but her words had no effect once she started kissing Adora again.

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (II)

Chapter 2: Carnations For Apologies

 And here we go again for a second chapter!! I hope you like it!! I'm writing quite a lot for this story, so expect the third chapter to drop this week as well!!

No warnings at all, except that it's very cute :D

Tell me what you think of this little cute fic so far :)

Word Count : 2079

Harry asked for the contact details of the florist that was hired for the ceremony. It was mostly because he still felt bad for accidentally hurting you and causing all this trouble, but also because he genuinely wanted to see you again.

You seemed nice, he wanted to make sure you were alright, that you were not in any kind of trouble with your boss because of him. He also wanted to ask you about your day, ask what your favourite colour was… and what about your favourite flower, and your family?

There was something about you, maybe it was just your aura, maybe it was your gentle tone, maybe it was something in your eyes… he couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but what was for certain was that for some reason, he wanted to trust you. Harry had always been rather proud of his ability to judge people, and he didn't doubt that he was right about you. You seemed to be a nice person, the kind he would consider himself lucky to call a friend.

Which was why he had driven all the way to Mary's flowers, the flower shop you worked in. He smiled at the sight of the vivid colours covering the white front of the shop, brought by the many flowers on display. He stopped by to breathe in the scent of some pink roses and purple alliums and smiled.

There was a bright sun above California that day. It was warm but not to a suffocating level. A few clouds drifted through the ocean of blue above his head, lazy and cotton-like. It was such a nice afternoon, and the sight of these vibrant flowers made only one more reason to enjoy the day.

He walked inside, taking in the sight of the impressive bouquets that were to sell. He looked for you, but couldn't see you anywhere, so he decided to wait for his turn in the queue and ask about you. There were six people waiting before him, despite the fact that it was the middle of the afternoon during a work day, but taking a look around at the beautiful compositions, he wasn't surprised at all by the success of the shop. He wondered which bouquets had been made by your hands.

He waited around twenty minutes before a smiling young woman welcomed him.

"I'm looking for someone who works here. Y/N?"

The florist gave Harry a deep frown.

"Umm… sure, she's in the back, I'll go fetch her. What's your name?"

"Harry. Thank you."

Your colleague disappeared to get you, but was stopped by her boss first, who seemed to be wondering what was going on. After a short discussion, she put on her most polite smile, and walked over to Harry.

"Good afternoon, is there anything I can do for you?" she asked, already preparing the lecture she would give you if the young man before her turned out to be a disappointed client.

"Umm… Hi! I'm Harry. I don't know if you remember me, I'm the one who bumped into Y/N at the wedding last week-end. I just… umm… wanted to make sure she was okay."

Mary seemed to finally recognize him indeed, and she visibly relaxed.

"Oh yes, of course! I remember now! She's alright, no worries! It was nothing serious!"

"I'm glad to hear that."

His attention was pulled towards a silhouette moving behind Mary though, and he gave you a bright smile as he saw you approaching.

"Hello, Harry!" you gave him a genuine grin, clearly surprised yet happy to see him again. "How are you? What are you doing here?"

"Hi! Umm… I was looking for you actually. Wanted to check if you were alright."

He gave Mary a side glance, but she seemed to have no intention in leaving the two of you alone. Maybe it was because she didn't want him to distract you from work…

"I would also need flowers, so if you could help me with that too?" he lied in an attempt to distract Mary, and she seemed to bite at the bait, taking a couple of steps back to let you come closer to Harry.

"Sure," you nodded, and guided him towards the front door. "I'm sure we'll find you something nice. We have some new arrivals outside, let me show you."

"How is your hand?" he asked, nodding at your bandage. He checked one last time that Mary wasn't following you, but she was already talking to another customer.

"Fine. It's getting better, slowly but surely. I might get a scar though. What about your wrist?"

"I'm fine," and as to prove a point, he moved his wrist around a little. "It's getting better too."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"And your head?"

You chuckled.

"Hard enough to take a little blow."

Your joke made him laugh, a bright sound that sent sparks all around the two of you. You noticed the cute dimples that formed on his cheeks when he smiled.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"How did you know where to find me?" you narrowed your eyes at him, but your smile didn't leave your lips.

"I asked around at the wedding, it really wasn't very hard to find out. I didn't stalk you or anything, nor am I a secret CIA agent."

"Thank God for that!"

You turned towards the stalls covered by flowers.

"So, what flowers do you need?"

"Huh… Surprise me?"

You let out a chuckle.

"I am guessing that you still need to make amends for leaving your girlfriend alone for so long at the wedding…"

"You could say that. Can you help?"

"I would advise roses and carnations. Roses for love and affection, and carnations for an apology."

"You even know the hidden meaning of flowers, I am impressed!"

"I'm a real florist!" you faked outrage.

"And a very talented one too, clearly."

You picked some flowers, shaking your head in amusement.

"I was wondering… would you like to grab a coffee sometimes?" Harry proposed in a conversational tone. "Or lunch?"

You froze, and he instantly noticed the change in your stance.

So… that was it, huh? He was hitting on you when he had a girlfriend? Really?! And you had thought he was a nice guy…

"No, no, no, no!" he defended himself, looking a little panicked all of a sudden, clearly uncomfortable. "I didn't mean like… I didn't mean to make you think that I… I'm not trying to flirt or anything. I'm not single. I just… I just thought that you were nice, and I'd like a chance to know you better, that's all."

"Know me better?" you asked suspiciously.

"Just as friends."

You nodded. He seemed earnest enough, but after all, you barely knew the man… it was hard to trust him so quickly.

What to do with that little voice at the back of your head that screamed at you to trust him anyway though?

"I'll think about it," you elusively answered, and Harry nodded.

"Can I leave you my number? And you can decide whether you want to see me or not?"

"Okay."

"Great!"

"I'll make you a bouquet with these," you went on, pointing at the flowers.

You walked back inside, and in less than a minute, you had created a beautiful composition with the flowers you had chosen for Harry.

"It's gorgeous," he smiled, clearly impressed.

"Thank you. As I said, I'm a real florist."

"And as I said, a talented one too."

He paid for the flowers and wrote down his name and number on the back of a card you would normally add to a bouquet.

"I hope to hear about you soon then. Take care, Y/N."

"Take care."

You looked down at the note, written in a hurried handwriting.

Harry Styles

A smile formed on your lips.

You decided that you liked the name.

A week passed, and you were too busy to even think about calling Harry. You hadn't really taken a decision about what to do about his offer. He seemed kind and trustworthy, but another wary voice in your head examined other interactions you had had with men before, and seemed to raise a red flag in warning.

Your hesitation turned into a genuine lack of time though, as your days got even busier and busier around the shop. Your hand was slowly healing, allowing you to get back to all your normal tasks at work. You had reached a point where you arrived at work before sunrise and left long after the night had fallen.

You weren't complaining though, except for the exhaustion that came for the long hours. You had dreamt about flowers being your life, and that was exactly what you were living now. Sure, the shop was not your own, but you were learning so much.

You were busy preparing some new bouquets with the new amaryllis and peonies you had received. You were too lost in their soft colours and comforting scent to notice that someone was waiting for your attention on the other side of the counter.

"Hello, Y/N!"

You recognized Harry's voice in an instant, and he shot you a shy smile.

"Hi!" you answered, surprised, but smiling nonetheless.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"I'm great. Erm… Except that… I guess, I'm gonna need one of those again."

He handed you a single carnation.

"What did you do to your girlfriend this time?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Your colleagues were busy taking care of the other customers, and you saw no rush in ending the conversation, at least, not because of your work. Mary was nowhere to be seen, so you reckoned that you could take a short break and chat a little with Harry.

"Nothing at all," he defended himself with a frown. "Thank you for the bouquet, by the way, she loved it."

"Who is it for then? Who deserves an apology then?"

"You, I think," he answered, running a hand in his long hair. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable the other day, I just… you seemed to be a nice girl, and I wanted to know you better. But I understand now that my intentions could have been… erm… misinterpreted. I didn't mean to make you feel like that. So… I'm sorry, if I did. I just… erm… wanted to talk with you."

"It's okay…"

"No, no… really, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like I was asking for a date. I have someone else, and I'm not the kind of guy to cheat on people, so… I'm sorry. I thought… what if we did something with some friends? Or… not just the two of us? So, you wouldn't feel like that? Or you could also just tell me loud and clear that you want to be left alone, and that would be absolutely alright. What do you say?"

He leaned against the counter, his forearms resting upon the wood, and through his only partially buttoned red shirt, you spotted the tattoos of what you guessed where sparrows, one on each of his collarbones. You also spotted a cross hanging around his neck.

While you investigated these details, he took your short silent for an answer.

"Alright then, I'll leave you alone. It was still very nice meeting you, Y/N. Take good care of you, and especially your hand."

He handed you the flower, his fingers clothed with large rings, along with some change that he put on the counter to pay for the carnation, but you shook your head.

"I… I actually was pretty overworked these past few days. I genuinely didn't have time to call you."

He raised an eyebrow, a lopsided smile settling on his lips.

"Oh!"

"Yeah… huh… it's good to know that you have the right intentions though."

"Sure! So…"

"So… what about a coffee? Tomorrow's my day off?"

His smile bloomed into a full grin.

"Tomorrow's perfect! Let's say… 3pm? At the café down the street, with the purple door?'

"Perfect."

His smile turned a little mischievous, and his eyes sparkled. He left the coins on the counter, but didn't give you the flower.

"I'm keeping this for tomorrow, to make sure you'll come," he joked, making you laugh.

"I mean… you have a carnation to offer now, that's huge!"

"I know, right?" he nodded with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "You can most definitely resist me, but I'm pretty sure you can't resist such a pretty flower."

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

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony​ @madamrogers​ @cronias13​

[alto-tenure]

@silvmoonsky

warrior cat? no, warrior chat

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XLVII

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist   Prev. | Part 47

Word-count: 6.3k+

A/N: apologies for disappearing friends!! i’ve finally finished writing all the parts for 6a so i should queue them up for regular content again soon (also i’m pretty sure i’ve used this gif before but don’t mention it)

Sleeping had always been tricky for you, but after everything you’d seen and all the sacrifices you’d made protecting Beacon Hills, sleep was either short and dreamless or long and full of nightmares. 

That night, you dreamt of Stiles. 

He was always at the edge of the picture, just out of your view, but you knew it was him. His laugh, his voice, his silhouette. The way the light caught on his hazy figure and sometimes you could just make him out before he disappeared completely. 

He always disappeared, but he always made you promise to find him, and you always did. Stiles was starting to fade into the distance again when the alarm tone rang out. It tore you away from him, but not before his hand caught yours and he said, “I can feel you forgetting me.”

The alarm tore him away from you before you could promise to remember Stiles one last time. 

When you were sure you couldn't dream of Stiles again, you pulled yourself out of bed and forced yourself to get ready for school. You were already on your second cup of blood-spiked coffee when Mason, Corey, and Liam showed up. You crapped them out for trashing your house but it was largely just to get a laugh and not because you were angry with them. This was the first morning that you weren’t angry, just empty. 

Scott broke up your fun before you could get anything really good out of them, and then he asked what Liam wanted to show you guys. 

Liam took you to the living room and pointed up at the ceiling where a dark stain rested. There was a dark spot in the center and black tendrils snaking outwards. Definitely not a water stain; it looked almost like tree roots.

“That’s how he got in?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah, but what is it?” Liam asked. He looked away from the ceiling to gauge Scott's reaction. 

“It’s a Lichtenberg figure,” you said, still staring at the long tendrils that seemed to reach out for something. An image flashed through your mind: these same tendrils snaking up a neck, unusually dark against the pale, sickly skin. Tearing yourself away from the Lichtenberg figure, you folded your arms around yourself. “They, uh- they’re common in lightning strike victims.” 

“You knew someone who was struck by lightning?” Liam asked. You felt his eyes on you and curled in on yourself even more.

“No, I-” You shook your head and sighed. “I think so, but I'm not sure ... I don't know.” 

“Stiles,” Scott said when you couldn't. You nodded at him and he gave you an encouraging smile in return. 

“You can also usually find charred spots like this on the ground after a violent thunderstorm,” Mason said, blissfully unaware of how crappy you felt and continuing the lightning-related thought process.

“So that’s how the Ghost Rider got in,” Scott said. He looked away from you and back to the Lichtenberg figure on the ceiling. “He rode the lightning.”

Liam caught your attention in your peripheral vision. “If they can use the lightning to get past the mountain ash … no place is safe.”

“What about the others?” Corey asked. He sounded panicked. “It’s my fault they’re marked.” 

“We’ll find a way to protect them,” Mason said quickly. He looked over at Scott and Scott looked over at you. 

“And we’ll find a way to get the others back,” Scott promised. 

One of your phones went off and scared the rest of you out of your stupor. You promised to reconvene later on, and split up to head to school. No matter often it happened, it was still jarring to discuss the supernatural special of the week over breakfast and then have to sit through econ and pre-calc.

Still, your friends found you between classes and it was back to piecing together a way to defeat the big bad. Today, it was relics. Specifically, a student ID card belonging to a sophomore named Jake Sullivan.

“Wait, what’s a relic?” Malia asked. 

“An object with a fixed associated to the past,” Lydia said. As she spoke, you twisted your signet ring on your finger. It was a nervous habit that you'd picked up whenever you couldn’t turn the Feliscore Arcade coin over itself. “Jake’s ID was left behind after he was taken, and Gwen found her sister’s bracelet on her bedroom floor.”

“How can someone be erased and still leave something behind?” Malia asked.

“A conservation of mass,” Lydia explained. She was incredibly patient with her explanations considering how near-constant they were. “The total mass of any isolated system remains constant.” 

“So, even the Ghost Riders have a weakness?” Scott asked.

“And a relic would be proof that Stiles existed,” Malia said.

“And that we can bring him home,” you said, sounding more hopeful than you'd meant. 

“Exactly,” Lydia said. “And I think I can find one, but Noah and Claudia-” 

“I can take care of Noah,” you said. “Give me the ID and I’ll go talk to him, but I think you should go looking while I do.”

The bell rang and you had to split up, but you and Lydia texted until you settled on a plan. It was a shaky plan, but you needed to talk to Noah and Lydia needed to do her Banshee magic to find something that belonged to Stiles.

So, hesitantly, you borrowed the car from Scott after school and drove yourself to the station. Once you were there, your hand hovered over the key. Once you went in there, everything would change again. 

You yanked the key out of the ignition and headed to Noah’s office. 

Your explanation of relics was shaky - Lydia could have done it much better - but Noah followed along for most of it. There was only one thing that he was caught on. 

“You want to search my house?” Noah asked.

“Yes,” you said. “I know it’s crazy, but if there’s any chance that Stiles left anything behind …” 

“Why would it be there? At my house?” Noah asked. 

You took a deep breath and looked down at your hands. The light caught on your ring. “Because I heard what Elias said after we left, and my house has really thin walls,” you said quietly. Noah looked confused, so you went on, “I heard what you told Scott about-” 

Noah pushed the case file in front of him away and leaned forward in his seat. “About my dream?” 

“About your memory.” You looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Please. The worst that can happen is that Lydia doesn’t find anything.” 

Noah sighed and rubbed his face. “She’s already at my house, isn’t she?” 

“Got there five minutes before I walked in,” you said. 

“Dammit, Y/N!” Noah shook his head. “This is just typical. You and Stiles are always-” He stopped dead when he realized what he’d said. He sighed and put his head in his hands.

You pulled one of his chairs closer to the desk and put your hands out for him to hold if he wanted to. “I do it, too, sometimes,” you said softly. “I tell jokes that people don’t understand because they weren’t the ones I shared them with. Whenever I buy food, I buy a pack of Reese’s even though I don’t eat them. Seriously, you- you should see the stash I’ve got. They’re pouring out of my loose floorboard.”

Noah laughed. He pulled his hands away from his face and gave you a sad smile. “You know, last night I couldn’t sleep so I got up. Figured I’d do some paperwork. The files were in the back of my car so I- I went to the garage, and some junk had fallen off a shelf and I stubbed my toe on an old baseball bat. Without thinking, I yelled a name …” he took a deep breath. “Stiles.”

You smiled at him, trying to shove down the tears that threatened to spill. “The other day, Malia wanted me to promise her something, and I said ‘no matter what’ without thinking about it. She didn’t know what it meant but I  knew that it was because it was something he and I used to say to one another.” 

“Stiles,” Noah said. 

“Stiles,” you repeated. “I’ve never actually said his name until now. It felt too, I don’t know-” 

“Real,” Noah said for you. You nodded and he sighed again. “And that’s why you’re so determined to find something.”  

You tapped the desk a few times as you answered, “Determined to find Stiles. This is just the first step.” 

“Okay,” Noah said. He slid the ID back over to you. “Okay, Lydia can search the house.” Then he laughed. “Even though she’s already doing it.”

“Thank you.” You took the ID back and put it into your wallet. Somehow feeling more uncertain than when you came in but still comforted, you said, “I’ll get out of your hair now.” 

“Wait, do you- do you maybe want to grab a cup of coffee?” Noah asked. He looked awkward. “I mean, if you have the time.” 

“I’d love that,” you said. 

It was an awkwardly lovely coffee date. Noah knew the ending to some of your jokes, and you made his coffee the way he liked. Although you didn’t explicitly talk about Stiles, you talked about your grades and the diet he had to go on to help manage his cholesterol, how Mel was doing at work and life at the station. It felt like you’d been doing this for years. Just catching up.

But then your phone buzzed and you had to go help Scott track down Gwen. Even after apologizing a dozen times and Noah assured you that he understood, you still felt guilty as you left him there with two empty coffee cups. 

You rushed to the school, listening to Mason’s hasty explanation of how Gwen snuck out of the bunker and Okafur, Steinbach, and Wallace were never in the bunker to begin with. He needed to figure out a way to stop the Ghost Riders and your job was to try and keep him safe until he did.

It wasn’t that hard, considering that nothing was happening aside from the team getting absolutely destroyed on the field. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” Mason cheered as one of the players got knocked down to the ground. Everyone around you got mad at him but you tugged on his sleeve to get to sit with you again. 

“Hey, what did you realize, boy wonder?” you asked in a low voice. 

“The night of the party, Parrish showed up. The Ghost Rider seemed … scared of him, I guess,” Mason said. “And then I remembered the mural.” 

“The Hellhound fighting the Beast,” you said slowly. “You think it’s related?” 

“It has to be,” Mason said. He sounded more confident than before. “The Hellhound’s a harbinger of death and these guys … I mean, it has to be connected.” 

As if on cue, thunder started rolling in the distance. Ignoring the pit in your stomach, you said, “Find Hayden and tell her to call her sister. I’ll make sure nothing happens here.” 

Mason dashed off and, after a few minutes of alone time, the wind started picking up. Then the light rain. When the lightning cracked overhead, your eyes darted across the field. 

Scott was staring at the sky. He pulled off his helmet as the light rain turned into a downpour. You raced onto the field as players started taking cover. Corey yelled that the Ghost Riders were there, but you couldn’t see them. 

The ref was trying to get everyone off the field as you huddled the players together. 

“Okay! We’ve got all three, right?” Scott asked. 

“Scott, there were four,” you said. Both of you turned to count but you still only came up with three players: Gwen, Okafur, and Steinbach. You saw Scott grab Corey’s hand and did the same. You couldn’t kick the Ghost Riders’ asses until you could see them. 

Your grip tightened as you watched one of the Riders drag Wallace off the field as he screamed for his life. Then he just disappeared into a small cloud of green smoke. 

“Oh my god!” Okafur yelled. “They’re real! We’ve gotta get out of here!”

“Stay together. We’ll protect you,” Liam promised. He wasn't as confident as Mason had been.

“How?” Gwen asked. 

You followed her eyes to the quickly approaching group of Riders. There were just three of them but you knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against them. Scott told you all to run but the second you did, three more Riders showed up to block your path.

“Stay close!” Liam yelled, pulling the players behind him.

It didn’t help. They shot Okafur and he disappeared, just like Wallace. 

Corey moved out of your grip but you could still see them. So could Scott. As one of the Riders readied their gun, you weren’t entirely sure whether seeing them was a good thing or not. 

Liam tackled him before he could shoot but it was just an inconvenience for the Rider. He kicked Liam off of him. Scott jumped forward to protect him, but as soon as he moved another Rider shot Steinbach. He was gone. 

“We can’t stop ‘em! Protect Gwen!” Scott bore his fangs at the Riders. 

You did the same but you were so focused on the Riders that you didn’t notice Gwen slipped past Corey. The Riders shot her and she disappeared. In a few seconds, the Riders were gone, too.

The four of you stood in the field until the rain stopped, none of you managing to say anything. 

“Hey,” you said to break the silence. The rain was clearing up. “Let’s go find Mason and Hayden. He might have an idea on how to end this.” 

They nodded and you rushed back to the school. Mason and Hayden were fine. Parrish didn’t fight the Ghost Rider but it left them alone before disappearing just like the rest of them. 

“Everyone from the bunker has been taken,” Scott said as he got off the phone with Malia.

“Everyone? How?” Mason asked.

“It doesn’t matter how,” Scott said. “Malia’s at the hospital and Argent’s been hurt. My mom’s with them.” 

“I’ll go check on them,” you said. Looking over to Liam and the others, you added, “You guys get cleaned up, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Scott said with a nod. 

You found Lydia at the hospital before you found Malia or your mom. She told you about Claudia’s frontotemporal dementia and how it should have killed her by now and you caught her up about the Ghost Riders taking everyone from the party. 

The two of you found Scott and Malia before either of you got to talk about Stiles. 

“Tell us you found something,” Scott said.

“I found out Claudia never had children,” Lydia said, dropping her eyes for a second. “So, Stiles can’t be her son.”

“What about a relic?” Malia asked. 

Lydia shook her head and you looked down at your hands. You twisted the ring on your finger, so sure it was connected but not sure enough that it could be a relic. Tied to him, maybe, like Noah was. But not something that belonged to Stiles.

“There never was a Stiles, was there?” Malia asked, as gently as she could. 

It was quiet. Scott broke it by saying, “It doesn’t even sound like a real name.” 

“We have to keep looking,” Lydia insisted. Her voice was urgent - the kind of urgency she only got when something was driving her supernatural Geiger counter crazy. “Check the school records again. Or call your dad-” 

Malia shook her head. “No, we’re fighting the wrong battle.”

“No, we’re trying to find Stiles,” you said defensively.

“The Ghost Riders came back and we still have no way of stopping them. Whatever they are, they’re real,” Malia said. She was one of the best friends you’d ever had, but she was also cold and fixated on survival. You understood, mostly, but right now it was annoying. “We can’t keep chasing someone who isn’t.” 

“Maybe he’s not real to you, but the rest of us actually give a damn,” you snapped. There was a time when you would have felt bad for snapping at them, but this wasn’t the time to feel bad. This was the time to find Stiles.

“Y/N, he didn’t leave anything behind,” Scott said gently. 

“Just us,” Lydia said, seeming hollow as she looked up again. 

You shook your head and started walking away from them. “This is unbelievable,” you mumbled. 

Malia grabbed your arm before you could get very far. “Where are you going?” she asked. 

You spun back around and pulled your arm away from her. When you were this upset, her touch burned. “To call Isaac and Cora since you guys don’t care anymore,” you said.

“No one said we didn’t care, we just-” Scott stopped, unsure what to say. “We just can’t keep losing people.” 

“I’m not losing anybody else,” you said. “I’m finding him, Scott.” 

“Then let’s do it together,” Lydia said, grabbing hold of your hand. Her touch was cold, but it still burned. She gave you a smile and looked back at the others. “Please?” 

Malia was reluctant. In the wild, coyotes didn’t have time to track down imaginary best friends. Still, she looked over at Scott before she told you that you were out of your mind. 

Taking a deep breath, Scott looked over at you. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll keep looking.”

---

It turned out that while your definition of ‘keep looking’ meant that you’d skip school the next day and get together as a group to discuss everything, Scott’s definition was to go to school and act like nothing happened. In an effort to be slightly less confrontational, you’d gone along with his plan, but it didn’t make you happy. 

As hard as it was to believe by your scowl at Scott’s goofy smile when he dropped into the seat across from you at lunch, there was a time not too long ago when you would have at least tried to hide your bad mood from him. 

“Get an A on that psych paper?” you asked, stabbing your food with a fork. 

“No. Well, A-minus but that’s not the point,” Scott said as he shook his head. He took a breath and leaned forward. In a fake whisper, he explained, “Lydia found something. Malia’s already checking-” 

You pushed your tray away and grabbed your bag. “Then why are we sitting here? Let’s go.” 

Scott laughed and led you out of the cafeteria and to the parking lot. At first, he didn’t want to explain where he was taking you because he wanted to see your face, but - after some threats to tell Melissa about how the car got that scratch on the bumper - he finally told you about Lydia bribing the tow truck driver. He stopped talking when you reached a powder blue Jeep. 

Your heart ached as you tried to remember something, anything, about the Jeep or the person who owned it. You tried to remember Stiles.

When no memory presented itself, you said, “Well. This Jeep isn’t going to search itself,” and pushed past Scott to get to the Jeep. 

It wasn’t filthy, just a little dust-covered inside and pollen-coated on the outside. To add to the abandoned feel, the radio was stuck on the wrong frequency and only played static. Ignore how wrong it felt for the Jeep to be like this, you opened the glove compartment and found a red rag, some take-out receipts, and a map of Eichen House. The radio cut out and you froze. 

“Why’d it stop?” Malia asked. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Lydia said. Despite her rough tone, she flipped the Master Switch on and off four times before saying softly, “But there has to be a reason.” 

Because he was incapable of sitting in silence for more than three seconds, Scott started sniffing. Loudly. 

Turning in your seat, you asked, “Did you catch a scent or a cold?” 

“A scent,” Scott said and shook his head in an attempt to focus. “Ours. Mine, yours, all four of us.”

“Mine? I’ve never been in this Jeep before,” Malia said, sliding forward in her seat in the back. 

Scott shrugged. “Neither have I.”

“Yes, we have,” Lydia said. “We just don’t remember it.”

Malia tilted her head to the side. “I thought we were done with that.” 

“You literally promised me last night that we wouldn’t give up,” you said, doing your best not to glare at her. 

“No, Scott promised you. I didn’t promise anything,” Malia said. 

“Mal, could you for once in your life try to understand when something is important to someone?” you asked. You didn’t mean for the words to come out as harshly as they did, but they were out there and you couldn’t take them back now. You took a deep breath and looked away.  “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. Can we please just keep looking?” 

“I don’t know if there’s anything to look for,” Scott said. “Parrish checked the VIN number and there’s no record of an owner.” 

“The Jeep didn’t just drive itself here,” Lydia argued. 

Scott looked over to Malia with his ‘they’ve got a point’ face. It reminded you of an argument with Isaac back when he thought the twins were the ones killing people instead of the Darach. You couldn’t remember who the other person in the argument was, so you guessed that meant it had to involve Stiles. 

“Oh, whose side are you on?” Malia asked exasperatedly.

Scott looked at you, then he looked at Lydia, and then Malia, and then back at you again. “I’m on everyone’s side,” he said eventually. 

Malia and Lydia started arguing over whether or not Stiles was real again, so you continued your search of the glovebox to help tune them out. Your hands froze over the Jeep’s registration papers. 

“Guys, I think I found something,” you said, not caring what you might have interrupted. You unfolded the paper and leaned closer so Scott could read over your shoulder. “It’s from 1996.” 

“But there’s no name,” Scott said.

“Yeah, but look at the address,” you said. “It’s Noah’s.”

---

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Claudia said after reading over the Jeep’s registration papers. “I haven’t seen that Jeep in … almost eighteen years.” She looked over at Noah for confirmation and he nodded slightly. 

“But it’s in your name,” you said. “You never went looking for it?”

“It was stolen.” Claudia shrugged. She was either a very good liar or she really didn’t know anything. 

“Then how did it end up at the high school?” Lydia asked. 

Noah shook his head and opened his hands. “Beats the hell out of me,” he said with his trademarked sigh. “I mean, that thing was a junker back in the day. God only knows who’d want it now.” 

Something about how flippantly Noah talked about the Jeep tugged at your heartstrings. “Someone with a sense of whimsy?” you asked with only a touch of your usual venom. 

“I- I guess,” Claudia said with another small shrug. “I don’t know, girls. Maybe somebody dumped it there?”

Stiles would never abandon the Jeep, you almost screamed. You let out a low growl that reminded you uncomfortably of Malia and took a breath to recover. 

Lydia set an uncertain hand over yours to calm you down. She turned back to the Stilinskis and asked, “Is there any way to trace the history of the Jeep after it was stolen?”

“No,” Noah said, frowning at the idea of how that would even be possible. 

“Can’t you check for fingerprints at the station?” you asked. 

Claudia looked over at Noah and shifted slightly closer to the edge of her seat. Noah met her eye and sighed again. “Is this about Stiles?” he asked. 

“Can you please just check the Jeep for prints?” you asked, doing your best to keep your voice even and detached. 

“Don’t you girls think you’ve taken this far enough?” Claudia asked. She reached out for Noah’s hand as she asked, but it seemed less like a move of solidarity and more like a reminder that she was there. She handed the registration details back to Lydia with her other hand. “I don’t really know what’s going on with you lately,” she said to Lydia, “but maybe it’s a good time to talk to your mom.” 

Instead of telling Claudia that she was way out of line, Lydia just pulled her hand away from you, dropped her gaze, and nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re right,” she said quietly. She looked up again and flashed Noah a bright, dishonest smile. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Noah asked.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Can you just …” Lydia shook her head. You knotted your hands together to keep from reaching out to comfort her. “Um, do you mind-” she pointed to the hall where the bathroom was. 

“Of course. Take your time.” Claudia nodded. She didn’t even make it through her sentence before Lydia was on her feet and heading down the hall. Shaking her head, Claudia turned back to you. “You’re a good friend for being there for her, but be careful not to encourage Lydia too much,” she said. “You know how unstable she can be.” 

You swallowed hard to keep from snapping at her. All you could bring yourself to say was: “Lydia’s a genius.”

“There’s a fine line between genius and insanity,” Claudia told you with a heavy look. 

You’d been squeezing your hands together tightly to keep yourself grounded, but Claudia’s words made you squeeze so tightly that you could smell blood. “I’m going to go check on Lydia,” you said as you rose to your feet. 

Noah called out to you but you told him it was fine and kept walking. You could hear him and Claudia whispering after you left; he thought she was too harsh on you guys, she thought you needed someone to stop enabling you, you stopped listening when you found Lydia slumped in the hallway crying. 

You knelt in front of her and fumbled for her hands with one hand and cupped her face with the other. “Hey. Hey, Lyd, you’re okay,” you said gently. “We’re gonna find him, okay?” 

“How?” she asked, voice tight through the tears. Her eyes darted down the hall. “How are we gonna find him?” 

You faltered. A beat passed and you knew whatever you said next would sound fake. “I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t know, but we’re going to find him. I promise we’ll find him, alright? No matter what.” 

Lydia went still for a second. “No matter what,” she whispered. It sounded like a question when she said it. “Why are you saying that to me?” 

“I don’t understand,” you said, pulling back slightly in surprise. You suspected the saying had something to do with Stiles, but you had no proof and it wasn't like Lydia could tell you anything for certain. “Why does it matter?” 

“Because it does,” Lydia said. She looked down the hall again and squeezed your bloody hand. “We need to go. Now.”

Lydia didn’t wait to answer any of your questions. She pulled herself up and basically dragged you out of the Stilinski’s house, apologizing for the intrusion and thanking them again for their time as if they’d actually done something helpful. 

Once Lydia had safely buckled you into the passenger seat, she started the engine and pulled out of the driveway at such a speed that you were sure Noah would call you about the tire tracks. She explained, briefly, that she was having one of her feelings and you needed to get back to the school. To the Jeep. 

You didn’t argue. You never argued with Lydia’s feelings, especially not when they had anything to do with Stiles. She seemed to be the only person who still wanted to find him, and you trusted that together you and she would find him. 

It’s not that you expected to find Stiles sitting in the Jeep when you got to the school - even if a tiny piece of you hoped you would - but you weren’t expecting to find a tow truck driver trying to shake down Scott for more money.

“-Now I’m picking it up again,” the tow truck driver said as you and Lydia ran up to them. 

“How much do you want? I’ll write you a check,” Lydia said. 

“It’s not about how much. They want it out of here, okay? So it’s not up to me,” the driver said. He moved closer to the Jeep to attach it to his truck but Scott stepped in his way. Scott had never seemed intimidating to you - a byproduct of seeing him laugh so hard that milk sprayed out of his nose when he was five - but he looked intimidating at that moment. “Don’t make me move you, kid, okay? I’m hooking this thing up. And I am towing it away.”

Scott clenched his fist and you got ready to intervene, but Malia broke off a piece of the tow truck before anything escalated that far. 

Malia handed the broken connector to the tow truck driver. “Your truck’s broke,” she said. 

After some particularly nasty words, the tow truck driver stormed off and left your friends laughing in his absence. It was only a few seconds of laughter, but you felt a little lighter after a win - even if it was a small win. 

“So what now?” Scott asked. 

“I mean, he’s probably just going to come back in the morning,” you said. You looked at the Jeep over your shoulder and sighed. It looked so impossibly lonely in the dark parking lot. “Do you guys want to stay here for a while?”

“No,” Malia said, at the same time Lydia said: “Absolutely.” 

Scott got that awkward look on his face when he had to choose between his friends. “Five minutes?” he suggested. “Just to make sure no one else comes back.” 

“Fine,” Malia said begrudgingly. “But I’m not sitting in the back.” 

“Deal!” 

You and Scott sprawled into the backseat while Malia took the passenger seat and Lydia sat in the driver’s seat. Sitting behind the driver’s seat like this, you could almost picture Stiles sitting there. He always sat there, except when something was incredibly wrong or the time when he taught you to drive. 

The memory of learning to drive was still fuzzy and disjointed in your mind, but that’s how you knew it was him. Stiles was in so many of your memories that without him it felt like your whole life was fuzzy.

You were still trying to piece together the fuzzy memories when a roar tore through your ears. A strained, agonizing roar. Whoever that roar belonged to was dying. You bolted out of Scott’s arm and clambered over him and the seats to get out.

“Did you hear that?” Malia asked. She’d been too uncomfortable in the Jeep after a few minutes so she'd stood guard outside. 

“I think all of Beacon Hills heard that,” Lydia said. 

“Who is it?” Scott asked.

“I’m not sure, but I think I recognized it,” Malia said. 

Despite the very distinct and unexplained feeling that Stiles was human, Malia’s recognition sent electricity down your spine. “Let’s go find out,” you said, looking over at her for a second before taking off towards the preserve.

Finding whoever roared was clumsy. There was no scent and they hadn’t roared again since. You were still looking for the injured wolf when you tripped over the burnt body. Despite your badass shadow-wolf status, you screamed and scurried to your feet. 

They let out a roar in response to your accidental kick to their ribs and you dropped next to them to check that you hadn’t just killed them. From the second you focused on them, you knew that it wasn’t Stiles. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” you said gently. You reached out for his hand to take away their pain. Their hand wouldn’t open so you moved to their arm and started taking away their pain from there. 

It hurt so much that you didn’t even notice that Malia and Scott got there until Scott put his hand on your shoulder and the burnt werewolf grabbed Malia’s arm. You pulled your hand away so fast that you took bits of burnt skin with you. 

“Peter?” Malia asked.

He struggled to say something but nothing came out. 

“Who’s Peter?” Scott asked. 

“Peter Hale,” Malia said, not looking away from the burnt werewolf. He struggled again to say something. “My dad.”

“Your dad?” you repeated. Your voice ached from taking away his pain. “Peter Hale. That makes him Derek’s brother. I don’t- how could I forget Derek’s brother?”

A distorted voice broke through your internal crisis. “You were my beta first,” Peter forced out. His voice triggered something in Scott; a memory, you guessed. You didn’t remember anything. 

Scott stuttered out Peter’s name. “He bit me,” Scott said. “How could I forget him?”

“How could I forget him?” Malia asked.

Peter looked more pained with the knowledge that Malia had forgotten him than when you kicked him. He looked heartbroken. He craned his head to nod at his hand. 

“I tried to get his hand open but I didn’t want to break it,” you said quietly, moving around to try and see what Malia would find.

Scott took Peter’s pain away as Malia pried open Peter’s palm. Between the three of you, Malia got whatever it was and lifted it up. 

A set of keys. 

Stiles’ keys.

You snatched the keys from her and started running before either of them even had the chance to say anything. Nothing they could say could stop you from trying those keys in the Jeep, because you knew they were the key to more than just the Jeep. They were the key to bringing Stiles home. 

Malia tackled you to the ground in the school parking lot and Lydia almost lost a hand trying to break you two up. Once again, the four of you piled into the Jeep, but this time you got in the driver’s seat.

Now that you were sitting there, key still clutched in your hand, you almost couldn’t bring yourself to try it. What if it didn’t work? 

With an uncertain breath, you put the key in the ignition and turned it on. The engine sputtered. This wouldn’t bring Stiles home if you couldn’t get the damn engine to turn over. You kept turning the key and pressing down on the clutch.

“Don’t flood it,” Scott said next to you. 

“Please, this thing is held together with more duct tape than-” You stopped arguing when the engine turned on. You didn’t talk. You didn’t breathe. All you did was wait.

And wait. 

And wait. 

Stiles didn’t show. 

“What now?” Malia asked, poking her head between the seats. 

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. A few annoying tears clawed at your throat as you spoke. You kept your eyes fixed on the steering wheel to keep from crying. 

Scott started suggesting that you all go home when the radio stuttered to life. It filled the car with static. Scott reached to switch it off when a voice came on. 

“Hello?” 

Stiles.

You grabbed Scott’s hand and yanked it away. If he touched that radio then you were going to break his fingers. 

“Hello? Is anyone there?” 

His voice fought the static but you’d recognize that voice through a hurricane. 

“Can anyone hear me?” 

Hesitantly, you reached for the walkie connected to the radio. You didn’t want to break whatever magic held the signal together and lose him. Still, you pushed on the button and took a breath. “Stiles?” you asked. “Stiles, I can hear you.” 

Stiles said your name in a way that no one had ever said your name. He said it like it meant something. “Is that you?” he asked. “Scotty, you there?”

Scott held your hand over the walkie. “I’m here. Oh my god, Stiles- I can’t believe-”

“Oh my god, you know me?” Stiles asked. He sounded so relieved that your heart ached. “You remember me?” 

“I’m trying to,” you said. “I- I dream about you. I promise I’m gonna remember you, alright? No matter what.” 

It was quiet. Just the sound of your breathing. 

“Are you okay?” Scott asked as he pulled himself closer. “Where are you? We’re coming to get you.”

“No, no, no. You can’t, okay? You won’t be able to find me,” Stiles rushed out. He was panicking and you wanted more than anything to fix it. 

“No, Stiles, I need to find you,” you said. “Let me find you.” 

“What are you talking about?” Scott asked at the same time you were talking. “Just tell us where you are and we’ll … we’ll come and-”

“Just remember this: Canaan,” Stiles said. Canaan. You were going to get that tattooed on your forehead to make sure there was no way to forget it. “Okay? You have to find Canaan. Just find Canaan. Promise me.”

“I pro-” 

Static. 

“No.” You moved closer to the radio, desperately looking for a switch to flip to bring him back. “No, no, no. Stiles? Stiles, can you hear me? I need you to say something, okay? Anything.” 

Static. 

“Stiles, please say something,” you whispered. 

Scott said your name quietly. He untangled your hand from the walkie and set it down in its holder, putting his other hand to the side of your face. He said your name again, over your hysterics. “He’s gone,” he said gently. “We’ll get him back, but, for now, Stiles is gone.” 

Tagged:  @ietss​  @used-avocado​  @trustfundparker​

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Like Real People Do || Morgan & Deirdre

Deirdre and Morgan try to have a normal carnival date like normal people do. But they, like White Crest, are anything but.

@deathduty

The rainbow of lights that lined the carnival grounds were every color you could capture in electricity. They curled around every bend, from the ferris wheel to the carousel to the round awning of the rubber duck shooting range like stripes of candy on a lollipop. Morgan stared at the technicolor flashes until she lost the difference between red, blue, and yellow and saw only a single flickering puddle over her eyes. It seemed inevitable now that they would come here together. The calliope music, faint and corny as it had sounded from Hambry Park the other night, hadn’t faded from Morgan’s mind since. In the dead hours of night, Morgan had hummed the sweet rolling waltz to pass the hours, something that might have been familiar a hundred years ago but reached people only wistfully now. It was silly to imagine any kind of connection between her and the music, of course. It was just a tired old song. But Morgan was endeared to it, thinking of the melody as another creature out of step with the rest of the world like her. A little at a distance; a little strange. Maybe it made sense that this carnival would be her first, that she would only find it after her death. As she sidled closer against Deirdre, she couldn’t help but think of all the others she’d missed out on during her life: the rickety fairs in the mall parking lots and the end of school year fests and the Kemah Boardwalk. Would it have been this beautiful? Would she have stopped to admire the scene in all its glory as she did now?

“What do you think?” She asked Deirdre. “Can you tell me how it smells? I hear these are supposed to be smelly, but in a good way.”

Like the mushrooms, the carnival had its own music. Deirdre could faintly connect a similar sensation between the two, though she didn’t care to draw any further conclusions. Where the mushroom beat was an inaudible thrum, broiling inside her bones, the carnival was the same sick beat stuck on loop in her head, burning her mind with the desire to visit the fair. It was so loud in the cemetery, ruining their otherwise good night with its terrible, constant upbeat notes. She needed to go to this carnival, almost just as much as she was curious to check it out. The sounds and sights were unfamiliar to her, the array of people milling about were foregin to her senses. The ding of the carnival games, the whistling screaming that came down with the roller coasters bumps and twists. The queues waiting for attractions Deirdre couldn’t possibly imagine as being any fun; she didn’t know where to look, what to focus on. She gravitated to Morgan, holding her close--her one, stable and familiar anchoring point in all this strange chaos. She wanted to point out the things she couldn’t recognize, which was most of the things here, and ask Morgan to explain, but imagined it would get tiresome quickly. Instead her eyes darted around the lights and colorful treats, trying to figure out what was happening. Morgan’s voice cut through the frantic milieu. “What does--what--huh?” She snapped her attention to her girlfriend, blinking. “Are you asking me how the carnival smells?” Amused, she turned her nose up to the sky and sniffed animatedly. “Dirt. Sweat. Something sweet and---” She sniffed around like a dog caught on a scent. “Ah, yes. More dirt.” Deirdre smiled, pressing in to Morgan. “People say this is smelly ‘in a good way’? It--” She tried the air again, adamant to properly share this experience with Morgan--it was new for her too, after all. “I do smell a lot of sugar. And something baked and--” She glanced around, “ah, right, we’re near the food. There’s a child eating a...colorful cloud? And another eating a firm chocolate orb.” Was this food Morgan had tried before? Was it some carnival-exclusive that she was now doomed to never be able to experience? ...maybe they shouldn’t be standing near the food. Deirdre tried to lead them along. “Everything here is so flashy, like they’re all competing for attention.” She sniffed the air one last time, “and it also smells weirdly greasy.” She looked back to Morgan. “How do you know where to start in a place like this?’

Morgan smiled up at Deirdre, watching all the little wrinkles of concentration scuttle across her face as she tried to pick out each sensation from the bright jumble around them. She could see as well as she had in life, and when she peeled her eyes away from all the lights she could glimpse striped tents and gleaming racks of funnel cakes, cotton candy, and popcorn still wet with butter. There were sandy tracks where children had tramped through in every direction and dusty posters and glass display cases sporting strange shapes, she wasn’t even sure what. And she could hear just as well too, that same bittersweet waltz, the wails and chatter, but Deirdre, tucked around her better than any blanket, cut through clearest of all. “Well food does generally smell pretty good. But there’s the night air, and the grease, yeah. But maybe feeling excited about that is just a stupid American thing,” Morgan beamed. “But you definitely have to try at least some of the food. I remember the one funnel cake I had at the boardwalk being pretty good, and it’s hard to go wrong with cotton candy, it’s pure fluffy sugar. Karen had this toy machine that would make some, and--well, actually, it took forever to get enough around our paper sticks for it to look right. And no matter what flavor packet we poured in, it all tasted the same, just looked a different color. I guess however they do it here, it’s better. Um, but maybe you’ll like candy apples more? They got kinds with caramel on them too, and probably a few other flavors…”

Her words were tripping over each other at once as she tried to get her mind to alchemize everything. She hadn’t spent so many days dreaming about times like these, just on and off whenever the idea walked in front of her. When the customers at Murdoch’s or The Gap would talk about what a good time they were sure to have before shuffling off in pairs, and all those dopey Hollywood scenes. She hadn’t imagined she would be missing half her senses when she’d tried to picture herself in a scene before. She’d pictured herself plucking off gobs of cotton candy herself and rocking in her ferris wheel seat next to some sweet girl and thumbing brine off each other’s faces and tasting the salt as well as the cheap, eager sweetness around them. Morgan’s look turned distant as all those old ideas dissipated like a ghost in a haze of salt. “Everything is competing for attention. I don’t know if there’s a science to this, but it makes sense to start with whatever looks like the most fun. What looks good to you? I don’t care what we try as long as we get to at least one of those corny little games where they give you a teddy bear for knocking down bottles or shooting a rubber duck off a stand.”

Morgan was buzzing and Deirdre reached out to thumb her hair in place, her other hand centered on her hip, trying to keep her still--steady. She wondered if it was excitement that was bubbling out of her words, simple wonder at finally being in a place that must have once only been dreamt about. Deirdre had no desires or ideas of a carnival herself, she knew of them only through the distant memories of conversations she wasn’t paying attention to. The sights were odd, and she knew less of what to do here than she did before she entered. But Morgan’s excitement, and the flashing glow of the stands, rides and games around them catching Morgan’s features with their yellows and blues and bright purples, was more than enough to keep her from worry. “I can try some food later,” she smiled, “they seem kind of....sticky.” But Morgan had tried them before, which Deirdre hoped meant there was less of a reminder of her undead, untasting tongue---or was it more of one? Did the reminder play hauntingly at the back of her mind like the carnival’s own eerie music? “It’s not stupid, exactly, is it? Everyone seems really happy to be here.” Children bounced around, pulling their parents this way or that, pointing at rides and prizes. Couples snuggled closer, eyeing the ferris wheel. Even groups of friends huddled close, laughing freely as they charted out their plan for the rest of the night. Deirdre thought she could get lost in the crowd, just watching the humans move. But she stood still with Morgan in the middle of the path, a rock in the stream, caught up in the current of people all the same. No longer some observer, but someone that could experience things for herself too. Yet, just as Deirdre thought she might have figured out the key to being less affronted by the strange senses, she watched Morgan’s excitement fizzle off for a moment, gaze lost somewhere too far for Deirdre to follow. She pressed their lips together in a kiss she hoped was just enough to pull Morgan’s thoughts away from wherever they had gone. “I can tell you what everything feels like,” she mumbled, lingering close. “The cotton candy--which I guess are the cloud things?” She tilted her head. “The cotton candy, the apples, the cake...whatever. I know it won’t be the same as...what it should be for you. But we’ll make it just as good.” Better, she hoped. Better than whatever it is Morgan was thinking.

“But the games first,” she straightened herself up, pulling her face away from Morgan’s to glance around the stands. “I used to throw knives at bottles, is that the same as throwing the baseball at those plates?” She’d heard these things could be rigged, she knew of a few fae that traveled around in places like these. Her eyes were focused on finding the game most skill based, and the best prize to win. The biggest stuffed animals came along with the games that read easily to Deirdre as scams. But she had several skills the poor humans didn’t. “Let’s go there,” she pointed out a simple game, balloons that needed to be popped with a well-thrown dart, and its gleamy top prize--a white teddy bear, nearly Morgan’s height. “This is obviously where I win the biggest teddy bear for my girl, right?” She smirked, easily pulling Morgan to her. The teddy bear was the stand’s draw, but Deirdre’s eyes were set on a prize stuffed in the back, behind larger, more appealing prizes: a medium-sized stuffed pink bear, with a missing eye and one leg too short. It was exactly the kind of abandoned toy she imagined Morgan would appreciate better, knowing the children hovering around the booth wanted the big bear more. “I can see some of the romantic appeal of a carnival.”  

Everyone was happy to be here. It was like something you’d see in a commercial for Disneyland, the clusters of teenagers sharing popcorn and goofing off in the games area, the couples lining up for a spot on the ferris wheel, the kids pelting each other with beanbags as much as the game they were supposed to be playing. Everything was safe and in good fun, speeding around them like a twist-a-whirl ride. Even with no way to feel how cold the night was or how the grease mixed with the drifting sand of the beach, Morgan imagined that she could slip into the movement anyway, caught and swept away into the bright noise, into life, like everyone else. And yet she stayed still, not quite knowing how to make the right steps.

Then Deirdre’s lips were on hers, showing her just the way. Morgan slipped her arms around her neck as she kissed her back, rising onto the tips of her toes to stay connected as they parted. She stayed there, half dangling, smiling fondly at her. In the twisting spray of colored lights, her dark eyes and hair were haloed to shine as brilliantly as the night: the impression of purple clouds down her hair, the gleam of stars and nebulas in her eyes and over her freckles. At times like this, when Morgan’s adoration burst and twisted inside her, she wondered if she would one day grow too heavy. Deirdre had carried her whole existence after her death, along with her grief, her self-loathing, and her despair. She still carried her faith and her aimlessness. Much as Morgan ached to believe that the universe would level a balance, she could not unfurl her heart’s grip and trust in it yet. Not the way she trusted in Deirdre. But what did she do with the rest of her faith? Where else was she supposed to throw herself? What spot in the earth would take her the way she was and catch her whole when she leaped? Heavy as the questions weighed on her heart, Morgan gave Deirdre another kiss, willing her distress away and smiling anew with relief. Here, for this moment, a world of just each other was enough.

“Let’s try not to worry about should,” she said, lowering herself at last. “We’re together; of course it’s going to be good.”

More so, even, as she realized Deirdre’s ruthless training could be wholesomely repurposed to win the best prizes. “Yes!” She gaped. “Oh, you’re going to be so badass.” She squeezed Deirdre’s hand and nearly trampled the other people milling about running with her. Their eyes had settled on the same spot. Balloons and darts, easy enough and a little harder to rig. Morgan couldn’t help but giggle as she was brought into her side again, cherished and flaunted. “Hey now,” she said. “What if I want to win something for my best girl?” She looked up at Deirdre, batting her eyes. Her protest was more of a game itself than earnestness, but that didn’t mean her pout wasn’t a little compelling. “I could hypothetically keep up, right? And if we had two prizes, we could give one of them to Anya.” Beside them, a slightly older couple was giving it their best shot. The husband rolled his shoulders and threw one dart after the other. One hit true but the others veered just ever so slightly off course. Morgan’s brow quirked with interest, even suspicion. She looked up at Deirdre, checking to see if she had noticed this too, and what she thought. “But, if you’re sure you’re up to it, I guess you can be my strong hero and be the one to win me something cute,” she said with a smile. Waving to the proprietor, she held up her hand for one set of darts, “We’ll go next, please!”

Morgan's pouts could rival any promise bind or spell, their own convincing form of magic. But Deirdre knew better, and she spotted that teddy bear first. She smiled at her, pressing a quick kiss to her pout. "Not this one," she whispered. "Watch." And sure enough, the couple in front of them found darts missing with ease, walking away with no prize at all. On their other side, a man desperately emptied his pockets as his daughter rose up and pointed at the large teddy bear, asking if she could have that one, just that one. She watched them for a moment, noting the telltale chill that shot down her spine as the young man running the game approached them. Deirdre smirked as his tired voice filtered through the air. He explained the rules simply, the prizes were divided into tiers; popping two balloons earned the smallest of prize, three for the next, five for the one after and so on. There was one golden balloon moving back and forth on line at the back, if they popped that one, they got the grand prize of the giant white teddy bear. "Is that a deal?" She asked, eyes still on the little girl eager for the bear. The man agreed cockily, of course, all they had to do was pop the balloons. She smirked, tugging on his words as he caught up to what was happening. He fumbled backwards, betrayed, but silent to their agreement.

"I'll just give you a prize," he mumbled with defeat. "Come on, you don't have to do this." Deirdre quirked her brow up, plucking the darts from Morgan's hands—even despite her pouting and batted eyelashes.

"And miss the chance to show off?" She smirked, running her finger over the tip of the dart. "Dulled," she explained to Morgan, "that's why they bounce off the balloons, but it's so dark you can't tell. Not to mention—" she held the dart out on her finger, showing Morgan its center of mass. "Lighter than a regular dart. Too light to give you the power you need unless you really put all your force into it." She turned back to the fae running the game, who continued to shake his head, now mumbling in Gaelic about how annoying it was to set back up the balloons. But Deirdre continued, reveling in the last of her advantage against the kinds of scams her people had been running for centuries. "He said all I have to do is pop the balloons and I win." And so, she pulled out darts of her own, slender pin-like knives she kept on her. She counted out six, and before the fae could plead again, she sunk all six easily into the poor multicolored balloons, popping them—five for the ones below, and one shot perfectly into the golden balloon above. The fae threw up his arms, itching to honor his end of the deal he unknowingly walked into. He grabbed the stick beside him and pulled down the giant teddy bear, grumbling as he handed it over to Deirdre, who held it proudly in front of Morgan, peeking her head out from its side. "See! Bear!" She waved its big arms around, bending to pick it up and….spin it around, offering it out to the little girl, who had all but surrendered herself to never getting the toy. "Hey," she cooed, bending down. "I can't take this big thing home with me so will you take care of him?" The girl launched herself at the bear, the father thanking Deirdre profusely as she waved them off without another word, easily sliding back to Morgan with a lopsided grin on her face. "Oh?" She began, "did you think the bear was for you? Was that what I was supposed to be doing?" But the other fae itched again, eagerly tapping against the wood. "Ah," she pretended to notice him too late, turning to Morgan to explain the last of her intricate plan. "You see, I popped five balloons and so I get another prize." And she pointed out the old bear at the back, with its missing eye and mismatched legs. It was just one of those toys used to make it look like there were more toys, the fae explained, it had been back there for a while. But he was grumbling, angry that Deirdre hadn't just gone off to the ring toss. Now I have to set everything up again, he said. Deirdre ignored him in favor of holding the soft pink teddy bear out to her girlfriend. "I thought this one was better, because it's special," she smiled, "and maybe it was a good chance to show off. Don't hate me too much for not falling for your pouts? You can win me something for Anya on the next one, Morgue. I have a feeling these are all run by fae, and they tend to pay favors for their kind." She looked back at the poor fae she'd made reset his carnival game. "Well, most of them."

Morgan couldn’t help but flush with pride. Maybe Deirdre didn’t have the moth wings she coveted, but something in her was spreading free, a spirit that dwelled between the chaotic vitality of her people, the brutality of her upbringing, the brightness of the living world she dwelled in with Morgan. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. The balloons burst like popcorn and Deirdre’s grin curled with victory. The win of the moment wasn’t what made Morgan’s heart swell out of her sundress, though she did clap her hands, bouncing on her feet, inching back to let more passers by see the show in progress. Most people had better things to do, but a teenager one game over looked like he was recording the moment and two more couples had lined up behind them. But what made Morgan feel fit to burst was Deirdre kneeling down to pass the enormous white bear into the arms of a disappointed child. Her face lit up as though she’d been given the whole world and her little arms struggled to bundle her gift as tightly to her as she wanted. She roared with savage joy and held the bear over her head as she ran ahead, declaring, “I GOT THE BEST BEAR EVER!”

When they were gone, Morgan took the pink bear from Deirdre and launched herself into her arms, tugging her down into a kiss worthy of any feel-good finale. “You are beyond forgiven,” she said. “Thank you for doing that. All of it, even down to Pink Patrick here.” She made the bear give her a peck on the cheek. “You really are my hero. I love you.” She gave the endearment in a halting Gaelic, no less meant for her awkwardness. The fae running the game blanched, now wondering if she’d understood his curses and grumblings. Morgan smirked and let him keep wondering.

“I think what we really need is a reward for such a grand gesture,” she said, leading Deirdre away. “Yes, everything is sticky, but I will personally clean your hands later if it makes you feel any better. As long as we stick to the sweet stuff, I can pretty much guarantee you a better time than your first hot dog. Although, if you do want me to kiss you or feed you breath mints by hand after, that’s fine too.” She looked behind them again, pleased to see a woman still watching them admiringly. She wasn’t sure why it mattered that someone else see how wonderful time with Deirdre could be, how good she had it with her, but she felt suddenly that she’d give a lot to have a copy of every video, picture, and memory taken down from that moment, a whole collage of every angle. She wanted to string them all up across a room in their house and point to them as proof there was something good in the world.

As Morgan wound them through the crowd, another cluster of attractions caught her eye and she bit her lip, suddenly torn. “Okay, you are still getting something for being so very wonderful--” She bobbed onto her toes again to kiss her jaw. “--But, after you tell me if junk food is still all it’s cracked up to be, I want...hmm...I haven’t been on a carousel since I was a little kid, and you can’t say that it’s not kind of romantic to hold my waist while I ride a unicorn side saddle, right? But also, also, I haven’t gotten to do anything for you yet. I could whack my way through that test your strength game over there--” Just as Morgan spoke, a teenage girl hurled the mallet down with such force the bell popped off. The girl went splat on the ground, too drained to get up again. Morgan grimaced. That didn’t look right. “Or, you know, alternatively, fun facts are sexy too, right? I can probably out do half the info placards at the museum pop-up.”

Deirdre knew how precious gifts could be, how coveted the act of something won in one’s honor could be. Even knowing, Morgan’s happiness was infectious. “Did you like the bear that much?” She smiled, slightly dazed from their kiss. The Gaelic that filtered out of Morgan’s mouth astounded her next, just as it did the fae captaining the booth. She could remember Morgan expressing the desire to learn, and sure she must have followed it up with some joke about being her teacher. She couldn’t tell if she knew just enough to repeat a phrase Deirdre had muttered to her countless times before, or if she knew more than she let on---enough to hear the fae’s annoyance, enough to hear Deirdre’s whispered words of affection, when love was too great to be shared in English. “Someone’s been practicing.” She leaned down again, hovering against her lips. Her words mingled between English and Gaelic, fluttering in and out--perhaps playing along with Morgan, or too excited to remember how to pick one language and stick with it. “Were you just saving that? For how long? Have you been listening to all the things I tell you?” Her arms found their place wrapped around Morgan’s waist easily, pulling her closer. “You are my heart,” Deirdre leaned in to kiss her again, smiling as she pulled back. “I love you more each day; I love you more than I could ever say in any language.” And though the world continued around them--the carnival and its crowd, the world Deirdre was taught only to be an observer of--her attention was squarely on Morgan, a far better, kinder world to be watching.

As they moved, her eyes were strangely unable to leave the sight of Morgan, and her fingers curled around the pink bear she’d won her. The fae asked if she wanted her knives back and she waved him off, only daring to snap her attention away from Morgan to look at where she was walking. “Ah, but you don’t need to resort to bets to get me to kiss you now.” Their time at the bowling alley, which could only be colored as a date now, remained fondly in Deirdre’s memories. Even with the atrocity that was the hotdog. Perhaps one of the apples or cake things or cloud-candies wouldn’t be so bad. “Is there something I can eat while we walk?” She asked, refusing to break her gaze on Morgan to do something as silly as look around. Even as Morgan’s attention bounced between stands and attractions and people. “You don’t have to thank me at all,” she said, a whisper under the hubbub of the carnival. “I’d do a lot for you, Morgan. Including winning some teddy bears.” The spell, her whirlwind of being caught in Morgan, lifted just enough for her to remember where they were, and that there was a whole event--new to them--that they were supposed to be experiencing.

Her gaze fluttered to the carousel, observing the movements for a while before she frowned. “Or you could just ride on an actual horse, isn’t that better?” She certainly missed her gallops across the estate. Then her gaze moved to the game with the hammer and the bell, wincing as she watched it unfold. “That’s run by a fae,” she pointed out. “Maybe not the safest thing.” But she considered Morgan’s next idea for a moment. “Facts are sexy…” she rubbed her chin, drawing out her humming and hawing. “And I am drawn to the idea of you being smarter than a piece of paper…” She grinned, bumping Morgan lightly as she tried to pull their bodies closer together again somehow (it was admittedly hard to walk and keep Morgan anchored to her side). “I will very gladly take you telling me about the wonders of a museum any day. So, let’s do that. You know, I was kicked out of a museum once for trying to steal some bones. Didn’t get the bones, and now there’s at least three museums in Dublin that won’t let me in.” But a museum pop-up had to be easier to steal from right? “N-not that I’m thinking of stealing important history.” Oh, but she was.

“I am...more good...you think…?” Morgan said, using up most of the Gaelic she still remembered from the lessons on her language app. “I still don’t know most of what you said, or literally anything he said but it’s way more fun if he didn’t know that, right, pulse of my heart?” She beamed, pleased to use one of the only other phrases she remembered from Deirdre herself and looked up special. “Okay, now that’s more or less the last of my Gaelic for real, unless you want to ask me about how many cows I have, or the color of my hair, in which case we can go on a little longer! At some point, I need the Gaelic for ‘did you make that horse comment because I’m from Texas’? And ‘Will you teach me to ride a horse someday, oh wise banshee?’” She smiled against her lips, flush with gratitude for their whole combined existence together. “I have been making an effort to listen as best I can, though. I know there are parts of your world I don’t fit well in, but I can share your language with a little work.”

She led Deirdre through the enclave of sweet stands, looking for the shortest line. “The ingenious design of carnival food is that you can fit it in your hand so you can still eat while you’re waiting in line for the roller coaster or doing the ring toss one handed. But, if you’re really worried about it, I’m still team cotton candy or candy apple. They must have had those in Ireland right, even if you’ve never had one? The outer shell always gets stuck in your teeth, but your mouth will be sweet for days. Also maybe toothache-y and sore if you bite it wrong and...I’m not selling these apples very well, am I?” She brought them up to the shortest line and picked out the largest roll of blue cotton candy on the rack. As the tired worker wrapped it up for her, Morgan leaned up to Deirdre’s ear, whispering, “I didn’t kiss you like that because of the pink bear. It was my prize of choice to take home, but I kissed you like that because you gave the white one to a sad little girl. I’m sure you didn’t think much of it, but that just shows how kind your heart really is, Deirdre.” She passed her the bag of cotton candy, giving her a look that she hoped expressed a sentiment beyond any of the languages they spoke. You are good and I love you and am amazed to know you and the person you’ve become.

The line was a little longer at the museum pop up, decorated to look like an old side-show tent, complete with antique styled banners and a chipper barker urging everyone to step right up to see the horror, the wonder, the mystery and majesty. Morgan smirked as they slipped inside the tent, still half wrapped up in each other. Wasn’t that just a normal day in White Crest? A smidgen of horror, a dash of magic, a touch of strange? There were just enough people crowding the first exhibit that Morgan had to wait to be able to see anything. “I absolutely need to know what bones were so important that you felt the need to steal them from a museum, knowing how intense the security was? And the consequences? I mean, how old even were you?” she asked in a whisper. “But, you know, excited as I obviously am, maybe we should, you know, not steal anything on this particular date. Not stealing is fun! And whatever poor service workers got stuck with this shift don’t deserve the grief they’re going to get later.” She strained on her toes, trying to catch sight of even one of the exhibits up ahead. Nothing yet, but she was used to it by now.

"You're not bad." Deirdre laughed easily. Oh, she was terrible, but that wasn't the point. And maybe it was cuter to watch her floundering around words, watch the way her features scrunched together in concentration as she tried to remember what she knew. "And then, how many cows do you have?" She asked slow and enunciated. "Ah, that would be—" she explained the two sentences in Gaelic, slow, deep, and deliberate with its rasping as she leaned closer. "And the answers are that horses are just fun to ride on and yes." She imagined Morgan wanted to learn the language strictly to do exactly what she was doing now, but the innocent explanation that tumbled afterwards gave Deirdre just enough pause to prevent her from pulling Morgan into another kiss. "It's not my world if you don't fit in it completely, Morgan." Morgan wasn't and never would be fae, and sure fae were as insular as species came—but Deirdre's world, the one she inhabited and the one that she wanted to, fit Morgan perfectly in it. Even so, Deirdre was moved by the gesture, by her want to connect to a society that would push her away and Deirdre wished the best she could in her head that they would accept her one day. That it wouldn't matter to them that she wasn't a fae. "It's not the world I want if you don't fit. But I—thank you."

She raised her hand, thumbing over her bones, tucking her hair back. How wonderful, how beautiful and how kind this was. And how much she loved Morgan, too precious to pull into words. But her look betrayed all of her affection, spilling out of her without pause. For all she cared, they could have been the last two people on earth, and perhaps she might've preferred that. "They must've," Deirdre responded absently, dropping her hand. "But I never had the privilege of going out much, not for my sake anyway. There's so much of the world I don't know for myself." The carnival was just one of many things. "Have you?" She wondered aloud, "experienced much?"

She watched the line in front of them shorten and Morgan pick out the strange, blue cloud candy.  "Because it seems inconvenient to carry around a toy that big?" Deirdre tilted her head, genuinely confused as to what she was being complimented on. The girl wanted the big bear, she knew Morgan could do without and the girl would never get it otherwise—even if it was easier and cheaper to just buy a giant teddy bear from a store. But Morgan looked at her with such sincerity, such good. Deirdre watched her expression curiously, trying to decipher what the turn of her lips or that soft shimmer in her eyes meant. She pulled a piece of the candy out, absently popping it into her mouth as she tried to find the right combination of silent words and assurances Morgan was putting across. She moved her teeth to chew but there was...nothing? Her attention shifted to the odd substance. She did put some in her mouth, didn't she? She could taste the sugar, but it vanished from her mouth by way of some strange magicks. Her mouth hung open, she glanced at her fingers, pressing them together to feel the stickiness. "What just happened?" She popped another piece on her mouth, this time paying attention to the way it dissolved against her tongue. "Is this just—" she ran her tongue over her lips, brushing over more of the sugar taste. "Is this just sugar?" Morgan did say cotton candy was just pure, fluffy sugar, but Deirdre assumed that was hyperbolic. "This is just sugar," she repeated, breaking off another piece and putting it in her mouth. There was a slight tang, somewhere under all the sweetness. A distinct flavor she couldn't exactly place. This was far from the pies and fruit preserves she knew for sweetness—or all her growing up with molasses and honey as a sweetener. "I can't stop eating it though." And true to point, even if that much sugar would make her sick, she continued to absently pop pieces she broke off into her mouth, a way to pass the time as they waited for their turn at the pop-up.

"I must have been in my twenties. I can't even remember what it was, but it had this strong pull to it. And, honestly, isn't it a crime to keep bones away behind glass? Where I can't indulge a vision or two?" She paused, "this isn't making my mouth blue, is it?" She couldn't tell but she assumed the fact that the bag was already nearly empty was a sign she should slow herself down. Rolling the bag up so she could use some of the self restraint she learned, she watched Morgan pop up on her tiptoes. "Too short?" She grinned, "I could help but—" she held up her fingers, slightly blued from the cotton candy coloring. "I'm just so preoccupied with how sticky I am. It's so distracting." She turned to the exhibit ahead, "do you happen to know what kind of a museum this is?" Would there be bones, she wanted to ask. "And, fine, I won't steal anything. But I will be thinking about it."

Could it really be that easy? Morgan wondered. To claim only the places that would have them and turn away from all the rest? Was that world enough? Morgan didn’t even know the extent of what Deirdre was shutting away to be with her, what else she could be doing, or who with, in exchange for having the life they shared together. Granted, much of what Deirdre shed had taught her only self-loathing and coldness. She was more herself without it. But there must be something that had been good to her. There must be something fae that loved her even more completely than Morgan did. Could that thing be shared? Was there enough of it to last them more than a year or two? Morgan, for her part,  had sacrificed comparatively little. Her mortal coil was something they’d both lost, and it was more because of Deirdre’s doing than her own that they were closer because of it. Then again, she had so little to surrender in the first place. If her world had always been small, bound up in fear and a family curse. If it had shrunken at all since then, it was because death had pulled her back. Beyond the quiet and the dampness that surrounded her at all times, there was the way death reshaped her inside. The axis of her patience, her sensitivity, her enthusiasm all shifted in strange directions. Everyday approvals and the dangers that had once consumed her attention didn’t anymore. Foibles from strangers were too insufferable to bear if her mood wasn’t poised generously enough. And then there were all the restaurants there was no point in visiting anymore and the sleep-dreams she no longer had. Was there enough left between, even after all that?

“I don’t know if I have,” she admitted. “I’ve got seven years on you, so that has to count for something. But I also, you know...didn’t get to go out as much as other kids. I told you how my mom would cancel my plans for me and keep me inside if she thought I was getting too close to people. Endangering them with our curse. But I had a lot of magic lessons, and after I moved out I was able to do a little more. College and grad school and all that. I know a lot about things you can do by yourself? And I moved around a lot. Texas is big enough that you can feel like you’ve been all over without crossing state lines.” Her voice lilted up lightly, but even she knew how sad it was, to be dead to so much of the world without having fully lived in the first place. “We both know a lot about different things. And it’s not so bad, finding out more together.”

She pressed a kiss to Deirdre’s shoulder, grinning as she marveled over the mystery of cotton candy. “I did tell ya,” she said. “That’s the beauty of cotton candy. Fluffy and effortless. Like eating a cloud.” She nipped playfully at Deirdre’s finger as she told the story, or the lack thereof.  She guessed she was compelling in that way too now, even with her bones still bound up in fleshy tissue, and felt a strange kind of relief. She didn’t have to worry about repulsing her with a wrong touch or the sight of her discoloration when she needed to feed. “And you are a little blue in the lips, but it’s pretty. Like me-kind-of-pretty.” Death pretty, she meant, though she was willing to bet the pale blue stain was more of a cartoon romanticization than how she’d actually looked before she woke.

“And I think it’s a kind of oddity museum, like Ripley’s or those old sideshow things. Probably fake, but I’ve studied a lot of lore and literature in my day, so I can probably tell you why they think they’re right even if they’re not.” The line shifted and Morgan was able to edge her way near a family of four, situated behind the children so she could actually see over their heads. “Let’s just hope there’s not any, you know, real jarred bodies or brains or we might have to leave before I--” It wasn’t jarred brains. The first case was full of shells purportedly recovered from a deep sea cove of mermaids and selkie and medallions worn by a secret society of sirens. But next to it was a set of teeth from a strangely shaped jaw. Werewolf, the placard said. Beyond that, a set of fangs on a corded necklace. In another, the tiniest winged corpse Morgan had ever seen, no bigger than her hand. From her new vantage point she could see photos of what was, from Ricky’s stories, a real mermaid and the diary of a hundred year old vampire. But Morgan could not take her eyes off the field of death. The way children oggled and teased each other with the teeth. The way the teenagers gaped and teased each other over the display, daring one another to try and touch something. “Deirdre,” she said in a tense whisper, barely gesturing ahead. “Can you...can you tell me if any of those are real?”

“No, it’s not so bad at all,” Deirdre smiled softly, what more she had to say about how much she wished Morgan’s tragic living existence could have been different, could have offered her more, she kept to herself. Maybe there was something much more powerful, much stronger and much more important, about forging a better life in the present, than there was fiddling about with what could have been. For all the magic there was, changing the past never worked. She loved Morgan best in the moment, and there was no time she treasured more. In a way, it was simple enough to see that old aches would fade, and the world would turn into a new, brighter normal. But for every bit of hope, fear tinged the edges. And for every bout of happiness, guilt trailed behind. Each hurdle stood strong and impossibly tall---how else could the future be seen, than through cracks in a wall? Was it foolhardy to assume love could be enough? Or was it exactly the sort of hope she ought to have for them? “I don’t really have anything to say I just--I do like spending time with you, Morgan. And---” She sighed, “what I’m trying to say is: I’m happy.” Embarrassed by the clumsy nature of her words, she stuffed more cotton candy in her mouth. “I know you’ve been through a lot of---I understand if you’re not---I don’t mean---” frustrated, she picked apart more cotton candy, mumbling between remembering she didn’t need to chew, but trying to chew anyways. “Never mind.” And by then, she was eager to keep them moving.

“Nothing could be as pretty as you,” Deirdre responded instantly, venturing to pop another piece of cotton candy into her mouth. “But I do like the idea of being corpse-blue in the lips.” And the thought was enough to tide her mischievous mind as they waited, eventually finding their turn in the pop-up. An oddity museum sat poorly in her stomach (or was that the cotton candy?), she’d heard enough hunters describe their collections that way---enough humans gawking at bastardized retellings of her kind’s history. Morgan continued to explain, but the concept was no more clear. Then the exhibits came into focus, and her passing worries melded into reality. Death coated the artefacts, calling to her with their whining and pleading. Her face remained impassive, no stranger to the sights around her---the displayed cruelty and the ignorant delight of the humans around her. “Oh, very real,” she laughed bitterly, consumed by perverse amusement. She hadn’t seen something so callous in so long, but her mother taught her indifference well, and she wielded the power to keep their carnival date moving along. They could pass through the exit there, and be done with the whole thing. Her eyes fell to the shriveled pixie body. “Now would be a bad time to mention how common this is, right?” She paused, reaching a hand out to pick the poor skeleton up, to hear its story and honor it. A quick scolding from a particularly bored looking employee had her hand snapping back. What was it she was trying to tell herself about getting to the exit and going on with their night? “Come on,” she whispered, “we can just leave.”

But Morgan could not move. Her eyes stayed fixed on the table of death, flitting from one remnant to another, always coming back to that whole pixie corpse, pinned down like a butterfly. “...Common?” Morgan whispered. She realized, bitterly, that this shouldn’t have surprised her. Didn’t she always have to concede that the world was often cruel? Hadn’t she suffered enough at its hands? Hadn’t Deirdre? And yet seeing this froze her with horror in a way Kaden’s internalized speciesism didn’t. This wasn’t just trauma and misinformation bundled into mistakes, this was someone’s profit, someone’s game. And whoever those teeth had belonged to, whoever that pixie had once been, they weren’t worth any more than a rare insect to the people here. And to the laughing teenagers, probably even less. She looked up at the employee who scolded Deirdre, her disgust and horror plain on her face. How could she be this bored? This careless? Did she not realize what she was handling because she was too scared to live with the truth? Did she know and just not care? Stars, this place must be a hunter’s dream, all these supernaturals, all these deaths they could oggle for fun without having to hide a thing. “How--” she began, but the rest of the words wouldn’t come. Morgan couldn’t sense Deirdre next to her, much less anyone else in the winding line nearby. She had to be jostled by a group of twenty and thirty somethings to realize what she was supposed to be doing. She let them shoulder past her  and turned to Deirdre, her eyes damp and open with dismay. She shook her head mutely, unable to string together anything simple for how much she hadn’t known what would be here. How much she hadn’t understood what had to be in a Museum of Monstrosities made by humans. Another group jostled by, one of the members coming hard enough against her to knock her off balance. She whirled toward them, sharp words on her lips, but thought of something better as soon as she caught sight of their backs.

“Cover for me, for what I’m about to do,”she murmured. “And when I reach for you next, it’s time to go.”

She hustled along, seemingly trying to get to the next display table, but before she was too far, she stepped on the back of a man’s foot and rammed herself into his shoulder before throwing her body back into the table, knocking it over and sending everyone jumping in multiple directions to avoid glass and recover the items. “Oh god! Be careful!” She cried. “I am so sorry, I was just--I’m really--”

“What’s your problem lady?” The man demanded, as if she’d done this just to him.

“It was an accident! Listen--” She turned to the employee. “Hey, can you run for your manager, maybe a broom or some signs? This really isn’t safe.” And as she watched the agitated teenager stomp out of the tent, she shuffled around and bent down as if to pick glass out of her sandal and reached for the pixie corpse.

What horrors were common for Deirdre’s world, seemed too unjust for Morgan. Perhaps it was a lifetime of knowing exactly how humans thought of her kind, how hunters displayed their carcasses, or how the odd witch hunted them down for ingredients, that held her steady. A lifetime of watching this very thing, knowing life was cyclical and fate took what it wanted. But this strange, demented side of the supernatural must have been new to Morgan. She reached for her girlfriend, eager to soothe her, lead her through the inane tent and outside where the world’s cruelties were less obvious. But the crowd jostled around them, pushing and shoving and her hand was knocked away, just as they were. All she wanted to do was reach Morgan, to bring her into the world that was kind and---“Cover for you?” Deirdre froze, hands pulled back. She watched, stunned for a moment, before her brain caught up.

Soon the hurried crowd that couldn’t care less about them, had their eyes darting to the scene and the shards of glass. Murmurs rumbled under their breaths as some continued to give them berth and walk on, while others seemingly couldn’t help their desire to gawk. It was those busybodies she needed to look elsewhere. Lacking the time to think, Deirdre charged at a man at the other end of the tent, throwing her arms around him. “There you are! I thought I lost you in the crowd--” she took care to be loud, enthusiastic, and ultimately far more interesting than the woman and her broken glass. “I have good news!” She turned to the crowd, “I’m pregnant! And---” she turned to the man who, pale, shook his head at the woman he was with. ‘I don’t know who she is’ he mouthed, but the blonde woman unhooked herself from him and watched. “And we’re getting married!” Deirdre continued, thrilled and affectionate---her hand tangled in his hair, playing with his curls like an old lover. The crowd turned to her finally, feeling obligated to clap and cheer until the woman fumed.

“Again!?” The woman threw her hands up, “I mean first my sister and then the mailman and then the mailman’s sister I just--you said you wouldn’t do this again!” She swung her purse out, scraping the top of Deirdre’s head as she ducked. Deirdre untangled herself from the man as his argument with the woman dissolved into pointing and shouting and something about expired yogurt that was still in the fridge. She couldn’t tell if this was what Morgan had wanted, or if her uncanny ability to trigger chaos was not the thing Morgan meant by “cover”. Deirdre inched back slowly, waiting for Morgan to come back to her so they could run---not only for theft, but from this woman’s mounting rage.

Someday, Morgan would learn to stop trying to guess what Deirdre was going to do. Starting a scene made sense, but there was something otherworldly about the speed and the artistry with which her banshee worked. Morgan tucked the pixie corpse into her skirt pocket, fighting back a smile of admiration and ran up to Deirdre, gripping her hand tight and pulling her out of the other woman’s reach. “You left me for him?” She cried, mouth agape. “I can’t believe you. We are going home and moving you out right now!” And before the crowd had time to question her acting skills, she was running for the exit, Deirdre’s tight in her grasp.

She ran with her through the crowd lined up outside the tent. “Excuse me!” she cried, knocking people aside. They ran through the aisles of vendors, bakers, popcorn ball makers, ran past the carousel with its flashing vintage bulbs. They ran under a blanket of light, smeared before her eyes like a mess of watercolors. They outpaced the children hyped on sugar and the teenagers racing each other to the roller coaster and when they cleared the entrance Morgan kept them running until the carnival was just a blur in the distance and the moans of the evening tide was louder than the calliope waltz. She stumbled to a halt, her face bright with relief and joy. “That was incredible! You are so incredible!” She released Deirdre’s hand with a breathless laugh. “Thank you, for going along with everything. I hope that was okay. It was, right? I would’ve saved all of them or not taken us there at all if I’d known, but, I did manage to get the pixie’s body? don’t know what the customs are, what we should do with them. I just didn’t want people to keep laughing at someone’s body like that, and they were so small, and I couldn’t think of anything else to do. But--” Her mind was still racing, too fast for her to summon much more in the way of words. She looked up at her, still giddy from their mad escape. “Thank you. Are you okay?”

Though Deirdre knew it was only an act, there was still a genuine whine that croaked out of her mouth, pitched with petulance as she remembered to follow their play. But quickly, the act fell apart as her awe set in. The last time she ran with her hand in someone else's, she had been a child. Her long legs hadn't quite grown in, making her gait awkward, and she hadn't yet learned the absurdity of being pulled along. Except there wasn't anything absurd about running alongside Morgan, watching the lights turn and wash over her. Past the crowds, around the booths and through paths she hadn't seen yet. The world couldn't keep up with them, and Deirdre watched each piece fade away until all that was left was Morgan—her hair bouncing as she ran, waves caught in the wind just as the fabric of her clothes—and her slowly thumping heart. Their run ended all too soon, but her world remained parted for them. She could remember they were by the water only when the sound of the languid tide washed over Morgan's words, she knew the moon only in how it cast light against Morgan's pale skin. She could scarcely account for the time between Morgan speaking and her reaching across to close distance between them. She knew she had to, compelled by something far greater than sense inside of her—relief, love, admiration and desire.

Deirdre captured Morgan with a kiss, bending to meet and hold her and then to wrap her arms around her waist and lift her up. "More than okay, you criminal," she laughed finally, spinning her once before relaxing her back to ground level. "I'm incredible? I'm not the one that stole a mummified corpse." And normally she was the one stealing the corpses. But Morgan had done something bigger than some exciting theft, more important. "It's more than okay," she repeated, tangling her hand in her hair, fixing windblown strands where she could, and thumbing over the bones of her face when she couldn't. "You don't have to save them all, or any of them, really but—thank you. We can bring the body to some pixies, they usually like to deal with their own." And they'd probably want to know where and how this death came to be, but Deirdre was suddenly convinced in the moment that the answer to death wasn't more death—so there was some half-lie they'd have to fumble with, but that was a later problem. "And maybe I can tell them what a hero you are," she smiled. "Or," she kissed her again quickly, rumbling the rest of her sentence by her ear, "we can go home for now. Valiant displays deserve their praise, and I have so much of it to give." There was only so much words could say, and as her fingers bunched around the hem of Morgan's shirt, she was sure of it. Maybe it was all the running around, or the sugar, or the ever constant buzz of affection that curled around her insides, bursting forth in moments not unlike these, but she could only barely summon the right eloquence to explain her thrumming feelings. "I love you," she mumbled, "you didn't have to get that pixie out of there. But you did." And though she would have loved her all the same if she didn't, there was some strange, mystifying quality in seeing proof of what she already knew. "You did good."

So much of Morgan’s time was devoted to tethering herself to the world, reaching out with all she had to to be held. Her body, suspended only by magic, was always crawling away from her senses and in solitary moments she still wondered if her soul would knock loose and float away if she wasn’t careful and released her grip. But there was nothing careful about the ground vanishing beneath her feet as Deirdre spun her around. No caution in the breathless laugh that fell from her or the tangled mess the gesture made of her hair or even the kisses that surrounded it. And all at once there was no reaching. The feeling she craved fluttered to life, so violently ecstatic it threatened to burst through her. Morgan let gravity pull her dizzy body into Deirdre, sighing at each point of contact that caught her. “I love you too,” she said, the words rushing out of her in an airy rush, froth tumbling over the sea. “Stars above, I love you too, Deirdre.” She laughed along with her girlfriend’s words, not because they were funny, but because there was starlight in her dark fae eyes and so much feeling: of wet, heavy sand in her toes and Deirdre’s mouth against hers and the moon shining pearlescent over them and that bright, feathery sensation coursing through her faster than her own blood ever had. Morgan was beyond complete. She overflowed, and she couldn’t help but let it fall out of her however it would.

“We did good tonight, my love,” she said, pulling Deirdre’s lips to hers again, clinging to her lip even as a smile broke over her face, so wide even kissing became impossible and all she could do was stare into the face she adored and hope all the wild, devoted stirrings inside her were rendered legible in her face. “Take me home first, and we can praise each other for our various acts of heroism and glory. Justice for pixies can come tomorrow.” She wrested Deirdre’s hand into her own again and locked their fingers together. “Let’s run back to the car, you and me?” She said, and before Deirdre could reply, they were off, sand flying from their feet as they hurtled into the dark, so light on their feet they seemed by any eyes that watched to anchored by each other alone.

[mickmarstookmyheart]

Long Time No See pt 2

Requested by @frostedsugarcookiemint ❤️

Summary: After last night, you discussed a few things with Mick.

When you woke up next morning, well rather at noon, you immediately opened your eyes and turned sideways. As you thought there was no one there, not even Mick. So you just dreamt? Then that was quite a vivid dream. Sighing you got out of the bed and headed towards the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. The only positive thing was that you were free and didn't have to go to work. You stopped and sniffed in the air. Coffee and pancakes? You rushed to the kitchen and saw Mick standing in front of the oven and flipping the pancakes. So you weren't dreaming.

"Good morning." You said while sitting down at the mini table.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Coffee?" He asked while making another pancake. When he finished with that he brought you some pancakes and a big cup of coffee. "Still without sugar or milk?"

"Yap. Mmm it smells good." You hummed and started to eat your food. Mick was just staring at you smiling with wide eyes.

"Hungry?"

"Mm. It's delicious, damn. Thank you." You mumbled with a full mouth. After the both of you finished eating, it was your turn. While you did the washing up, Mick was leaning on the counter, drying the plates with a towel.

"So Mötley Crüe, huh?" You asked and glancing at him from the corner of your eyes.

"Well, yes. Don't you like it?"

"Of course I like it. Well to be honest I didn't really listened to the music. I was just staring at the lead guitarist with curious eyes cause he seemed pretty familiar." You laughed and Mick chuckled. "That bastard took all my attention away."

"What a rude guitarist." You two burst into laughing.

"So putting aside the fun, your music was incredibly good. The crowd went crazy about you. When I went out on my break I couldn't even the end of the queue!"

"So Whisky a Go Go, huh?" He asked in the same tone as you did so. You turn off the tap and handed him the last plate.

"Yeah. I have been working there for now 3 years so far. I heard thousands and thousands of groups, but your music will go viral! That singer guy..."

"Vince?"

"Yeah, he has such a unique voice. And those lyrics. And not to mention that bass player." When you see the disappointment in Mick's eyes, you cupped his face and leant closer to his face. "But you know that my favourite members are usually the lead guitarists, right?"

"You are just saying this..."

"No. And I will not stop this until you believe me." You said laughing while pinching his cheeks which you always did when he was sad or upset.

"(Y/N), stop. We are not children anymore to do these things." You weren't listening to him, just continued pinching his face and making stupid faces until finally he snickered. "Fine, you won. I believe you."

"Muhaha. Victory!" You said with a proud smile on your face tossing the towel in his face. You thought he would be upset instead he just tossed it back to you strongly. "Hey, that was rude." You pouted.

"Don't, don't make that face!" He threatened you playfully. You kept the face on until he sighed and went closer and put his hands on your shoulders. "Hey, (Y/N) I'm sorry."

"I knew you will say that." You said laughing and grinning.

"Are those morons not enough for me? You act like them. I thought you changed."

"Some people never change." You said in a serious tone. You were glancing at him. "But you sure did. Anyway, when will you tell me what happened?" You asked crossing your arms. He was rubbing his eyes as an answer knowing he have to confess one day.

"Are you working today?" He asked.

"Nope. I'm free so you have the whole day to explain to me why you ditched me years ago. And I will nag you until you tell me."

"Goddamn."

"So White Horse?" You asked looking at him with wide eyes, not believing how ridiculous this name was. You knew Mick was a bit obsessed with names since elementary school.

"I know it sucks and I even suggested other names but they didn't listen to me." He said gesturing while sitting by the sea at the beach. It was a bit overcast so it was pleasant to be there. Not many people were present, only a few couples enjoying the sight.

"Cool." You said pulling tighter the blanket on yourself. You were looking in the distance and was amazed by the beautiful beach and the sky blue sea. When you were frustrated or fed up with everything you usually pack up some blankets, food and books to chill. You and Mick were right sitting there, at your spot.

"And what about you? I feel like since we met I have been talking about only myself and I don't know a single thing about you. What happened after school?"

"Well, not a lot of things. I tried uni but I gave up after a few years. It wasn't for me. Then I had plenty of jobs, I couldn't even remember each of them. And then I found the bar...so that's all. I don't really have an exciting life as you." He looked down and smiled. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Just that I was always the one with whom nothing really happened. And now the tables turned." You were looking still at the sea, not turning to him. "(Y/N)"

"Hmm?"

"What is bothering you? And don't tell me nothing, because I can see it. You are biting your lip and you don't want to look in my eyes." You sighed and hugged your knees to comfort yourself.

"You know, after you were gone I couldn't really do anything with myself, with my life. Nothing went well, I couldn't succeed at anything. After school there was no one to play with or have a proper talk. I barely spoke to anyone." You finally glanced at him. "And I completely understand your reason, I just haven't really told this to anyone and I feel the urge now. I'm not mad at you for leaving. What bothered the most that you didn't even try to connect with me. You knew where I lived, you knew my number. When I went to school and you weren't there, I thought your back was messing with you again. But when 5 days passed and you hadn't showed up, after school I went to your house where your mother told me that you were gone." You felt a tear drop running down your cheek from recalling the memory. "You treated me like if I didn't even exist. That our friendship didn't even exist. So yeah. Say whatever you want, I don't mind. Shout at me if you like, I don't care." When you finished your monologue, Mick felt his mouth dry and was regretting his whole life. If he had stayed, he wouldn't meet his abusive ex-wife, but then he wouldn't have Stormy, Erik and Les Paul. If he had stayed he would've you, but wouldn't been in a band now. He felt many emotions at once; regret, sadness.

"I'm sorry. I know it doesn't really help, but I'm truly sorry. I know it was a mistake leaving you, but several things happened after I left which I couldn't regret. I feel like a jerk ditching you, but you have to understand me.". He said turning your head towards him. "I can't change the past, but I would like to make things up. Be better, if you let me. He leant closer, your faces inches away. There was nothing you wanted better than to kiss him. When you felt his breath you pulled away.

"But, as I see you won't let me." He said sighing. He was about to get up when you stopped him.

"Mick, wait." He sat down back next to you. "I will try to understand you if you understand me. You need to understand that I will need some time. I want to trust you, but...but I need time. I hope you will and if not, then don't waste the time."

"Really? If it's the only thing then sure, I will. I don't want to lose you again." He said hugging you from behind and he rested his chin on the top of your head. You felt the stone disappearing from your heart.

After the beach, Mick had to meet with the boys so you went home. Many things happened in the last two days. You met Mick which is a huge thing. Then there were those jerks harassing you, and then the day at the beach. You felt light, losing all the bad feelings you had, you felt. You sighed thinking back to Mick's breath. It was so easy to be with him. You don't have to pretend and don't have to prove anything to be with him. He liked you the way you were, even being a little annoying.

Next day you have to go to work again. Arriving at the Whisky you glanced up reading the names. Your lips curved into a smile when you saw Mötley Crüe and already had much more energy to start your shift.

"Hey, John!" You greeted your co-worker.

"Someone had a pretty good day yesterday." He was smirking at you.

"Called that if you want."

It was full house again and the rockers just flooded the bar. The four of you have to serve the amount of people. You couldn't wait for the concert to start. Not just for the boys but you will finally have some time to rest.

"(Y/N)!!!" You glanced up from the counter when you heard your name. You smiled when you saw the blondie singer.

"Hey, Vince."

"How is our favourite bartender?" Nikki asked sitting down in front of you.

"I'm okay. But what about you? Are you ready guys?" You pured three cups with Jack Daniel's. You tossed two for each of them and one for you. You held up your cup and the boys also. "To Mötley Crüe!" You said.

"To MÖTLEY CRÜE!" Nikki yelled along with Vince. After flinching you started to search in the crowd for Mick, but you couldn't see him. "He is at backstage. If you are looking for old man." Nikki helped you out.

"He is not old. We are at the same age!"

"No way, (Y/N). You can't be 30 years old with a body like that." Vince smirked.

"I guess you should go. My boss is out of his mind searching for you at the stage." You told looking in the direction of the mentioned place. "Break legs!" You shouted through the music.

The boys started with Public Enemy #1 and then Take me to the top was on when the music stopped and huge fight broke out in front of the stage. Tommy literally flew in the crowd after seeing Vince was beat. Nikki was smashing everyone with his bass and Mick was just vibing with his guitar, giving the fight a background music. When the guards finally managed to stop the fight, a weird guy shouted the band's name. And after that the crowd started to cheer and show continued. Silly boys.

"(Y/N)!" Your boss called. "Call the ambulance. There are many wounded and there is a guy with a broken leg."

That's not what you meant by 'break a leg'.

tag: @leatherandheels​