#maybe 2 or 3 times a year i get smacked with Sudden Back Ache but at least i have a SYSTEM for it now

[whoslaurapalmer]

finally able to go to bed early and tired and then I get into bed and I cannot fall asleep bc my back hurts. what a curse. less of a curse is that I remembered I bought a box of biofreeze patches a year or so ago for this exact occurrence and keep them next to my bed and slapped one on, bc I was NOT in the mood to get out of bed and crush some tylenol and eat it with ice cream. minor curse is that the biofreeze patches are always just a touch too small in both directions, although I will say it is overall doing its job with still 80% success

[weathergirl8]

Master of Deflection - Part 5

LOOK!!!! AN UPDATE!!

My muse has finally cooperated in small helpings and I was finally able to finish this chapter. Here's to hoping it continues. I don't need any more WIPs hanging out in the dark depths of my brain waiting for attention. Also, the dark part of my mind doesn't need any help.

This is for you @ak47stylegirl and anyone else who enjoys Alan whump/smothering. Of course, there will be some extra Virgil in there too, because I just love the big guy.

@misssquidtracy - LOOK SQUIDDY!! AN UPDATE!

@gumnut-logic - Not much Virg, but still Virg :)

@willow-salix - Some smothering John if you'd like (also no beta on this one, 'twas a late night impulse post)

As a friendly reminder, I originally came from the TOS and TB 2004 era. I’ve tried to write a few TAG point of views, but my comfort zone is the previous. This will take place with Gordon as the redhead, and Virgil as the middle bro. Sorry!

Summary: Being the youngest of five is always hard, especially when they pounce at the slightest hair out of line. Sometimes the art of deflection can sting.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John quietly pushed open the door to his youngest brother’s bedroom. Alan laid fast asleep under the strewn covers. The poor kid had clearly been restless. John laid the fresh glass of water on the nightstand and gently checked his baby brother’s forehead. Heat radiated from the eighteen year old’s skin, making the older blonde frown in concern. Pulling his hand away, he pushed a few stray strands of hair that stuck to Alan’s sweaty forehead.

The younger blonde began to stir, letting out a quiet moan as a cough erupted from him. John turned on the light from Alan’s ensuite and wet a washcloth. Returning to his baby brother’s side, John laid the cool cloth along his brother’s forehead.

Alan coughed once more and opened his eyes to the blurry figure leaning over him.

“Hey, Allie,” John smiled as Alan’s eyes slowly focused on him.

“Aww, man, Dad’s overreacting,” Alan groaned. “He pulled you from the station?”.

“Nice to see you too, Squirt,” John chuckled. “No, he didn’t pull me. Brains insisted I come down to give an extra hand while you’re laid up.”

Alan pushed himself up against his headboard, pulling the wet washcloth from his forehead. He reached for a kleenex to blow his nose. “It’ll be nice to have you around. Even if I am sick.”

“How are you feeling?” John asked as he handed his brother a glass of water.

Alan coughed as the water tickled his already irritated throat. “Like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

“You sound like it, kiddo. Anything I can do for you?” John asked as he took the water from Alan and laid it back on the nightstand. He didn’t like how congested Alan sounded. “Are you up to eating anything?”

Alan groaned at the thought of food as he let his head lean against his headboard. “Food doesn’t even sound appealing.”

“You’ve got to eat something, Allie. It’ll keep your strength up to fight this bug. How about some soup?”

“Okay, fine,” Alan agreed as he tried to move out of bed.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going? I’ll bring it to you. You stay here and rest,” John ordered as he pushed Alan back down.

“Okay,” Alan sighed, only causing another coughing fit to erupt. He moaned as he rubbed his chest.

“You okay?” John asked worriedly.

“Peachy,” Alan croaked. “Chest hurts a little. Can you ask Virgil where the humidifiers are? Maybe that’ll help me breathe.”

“Sure,” John smiled in sympathy. “Maybe he can give you something that’ll help with that cough too, along with the congestion.”

“Yea, maybe,” Alan said as he laid his aching head back against his pillow and pulled a blanket back over him as a sudden chill filled his achy body.

“I’ll be right back,” John said, heading for the door.

“Mmm,” Alan muttered and closed his eyes as John left the room.

John quickly made his way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, his eyes set on exactly what he was looking for. Kyrano’s homemade soup generally cured any sickness that filled the Island.

Grabbing a tray, John waited for the soup to warm in the microwave. His mind wandered to the day's events. To the rogue Captain and how close two of his brothers came to being hurt.

A beeping sound erupted from the microwave interrupting his thoughts. Turning, the astronaut heard the sound of whistling. John immediately recognized the tune and smiled as Virgil entered the kitchen.

“Hey, John,” the middle Tracy greeted. “How’s the adjustment to Earth? Feeling okay?”

“I’m all good,” John replied, taking the soup out of the microwave and placing it on the tray. “I’m not the one we need to worry about.”

“Alan?” Virgil asked, concerned.

“I just checked on the kid,” John sighed. “He agreed to try some soup, but he complained of his chest hurting and having trouble breathing. He wanted me to check with you for a humidifier. I think he thought it would help.”

Virgil frowned. “Try and see if you can get him to eat, and I’ll meet you in Alan’s room. I’m going to stop in the infirmary and grab a few things.”

“Okay,” John nodded and headed back toward his baby brother’s bedroom.

Entering Alan’s room, the older blonde smirked as he noticed Alan had fallen asleep once more. Turning on the light on Alan’s nightstand, John frowned at how pale his baby brother looked. Rubbing Alan’s arm, John noticed a bruise had formed along the younger astronaut’s arm. Exactly where Captain Stern’s had grabbed him. Anger filled the second oldest but quickly dissipated as Alan’s groggy eyes peered open. “Hey, kiddo. How about we try that soup?”

“Okay,” Alan croaked as he pushed himself up. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he nearly smacked his head against his headboard before John steadied him.

“You okay?” John asked with worry as he helped Alan lean against his headboard.

“I’m fine,” Alan reassured hoarsely, coughing once more. The eighteen year old rubbed his chest in discomfort. Looking down at the soup on the tray John laid in front of him, he smiled. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Sure is, Sprout. Let’s hope it does the trick!”

Alan took a couple of spoonfuls of Kryano’s soup while John rewet the washcloth. A chill shivered its way throughout his whole achy body. Grabbing a blanket from the floor, Alan wrapped it around his body. “This sucks,” he muttered to himself.

“I would have to agree with you,” Virgil grinned as he entered the room. “Lucky for you, I come with presents.”

Alan rolled his eyes as John laid the cold washcloth against the back of his neck. “How the heck can I be freezing, but my body on fire?” he grumbled.

“Let’s check that fever, shall we?” Virgil smirked as he ran the thermometer across his baby brother’s forehead. As the machine beeped, the medic’s smirk dropped.

John peered over Virgil’s shoulder as 101.2 shined across the device, causing both brothers to meet each other with an uneasy gaze. A deep cough erupted from the youngest Tracy, causing him to hold his chest as several coughs followed.

“Alan, does your chest hurt every time you cough?” Virgil asked as he grabbed his stethoscope.

“Just about,” the teen wheezed.

“Okay,” Virgil nodded. “Take a few deep breathes for me if you can.”

Alan did as his brother asked but was quickly overtaken by another coughing fit. “Easy, Allie,” Virgil coaxed, trying not to let his concern show. “I don’t like the sound of that cough. Let’s try another round of meds, and I’ll get the humidifier hooked up to help with your congestion.”

“Whatever you say,” Alan moaned as he closed his eyes and leaned his aching head against his headboard once more.

John looked at him with sympathy. “Do you want to try to eat any more soup?”

“No, I just want to sleep,” Alan said, as John took the tray away and he collapsed back against his bed.

“Get some more rest, Sprout. I’ll come back and check on you in a couple of hours to see how you’re doing,” Virgil said, handing Alan his meds.

The teen gladly took the meds as he watched his older brother start the humidifier, the vapor mist filling the room. “Thanks, Virg.”

“Don’t mention it,” Virgil smiled as he ruffled Alan’s hair. “If you need anything, just reach out, okay?”

“Mmm,” Alan mumbled as he closed his eyes once more.

Virgil turned off the lights and followed John into the hallway, closing Alan’s door behind him. “Should we be worried?” John asked as he turned to meet his closest older brother.

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck as he noted the time on his watch. “Viruses are quick-change artists, Johnny. You know this. I’m concerned about that cough and the discomfort in his chest. I’ll check on him in a couple of hours and decide whether we should start him on a round of antibiotics. I’m hoping his body will start to fight it before we get to that.”

John nodded in understanding, his knowledge of medicine filtering in. “Should I loop Dad in?”

Virgil smirked, recognizing John’s need to play communicator even on Earth. “No, not yet. He worries enough as it is. Let’s not give him another reason. I’m hoping to keep him out of Allie’s room as much as possible before he sets up camp. I don’t want to impose the caffeine restrictions unless absolutely necessary.”

John chuckled. Jeff’s consumption of caffeine was well known across the Island in stressful situations. Something Virgil and Jeff’s cardiologist were particularly strict about. “Agreed, let’s not poke the bear.”

“Well, it’s nearly midnight. We better get some sleep before the next mission interrupts us. I’ll be up in two hours to check on the kid,” Virgil said as he headed toward his room.

“Keep me updated, will you? Don’t worry about waking me.”

“F.A.B,” Virgil replied and entered his room. The medic couldn’t help but feel a sense of worry creep its way into his mind. All they could do was wait. After all, it was just a simple virus, right?

TBC...

[guildedlily6]

You Plus Me Equals Soulmates Part 6 (Peter Parker x Reader Soulmate!AU)

Summary: After the explosion from the last part, Y/N is trapped in the elevator.  Will Peter get to her in time?  Internally, Y/N still suspects Peter of keeping something from her.  Will Peter finally cave and tell Y/N he’s Spider-Man?  Or will this secret break them apart?

Author’s Note: I actually meant to release this yesterday, but I started editing too late at night, got distracted, and started reading another fan fiction.  Oops.  Part 7 should be out tomorrow, but we’ll see.  Hope you enjoy this chapter and if you haven’t read the parts before this, click on the links below.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

Word Count; 2,063 (sorry it’s a little shorter)

Warnings: swearing, angst :), mentions of blood.

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

‘What just exploded?’ is a question you should never have to ask yourself while 400 feet above the ground in an elevator.

I got blown back into the elevator wall from the explosion and I can feel everything moving very quickly around me.

Panicked, I look around wildly at everyone else.  The purple thing has fallen out of Ned’s backpack.  Everyone is still in one piece so maybe it was a different type of explosion?

Was this because of the purple glowy thing?  What is it and why does Ned have it?  What does Peter know about it?

I have many more questions, but the most important one is probably ‘how am I going to survive?’.

From the feeling in my stomach and the shaking of the walls around me, I can tell the elevator is falling.  Very quickly. 

What was the elevator precaution the lady told us about?  I can’t remember so I just press myself against the wall, my lips pressed together unlike others, who are screaming.

Suddenly the elevator stops abruptly, but not as if we’ve hit the ground.  My head smacks against the wall and I see bright spots for several seconds.

Everything is quiet.  The elevator bobs a bit, suspended by something.

“Is everyone ok?”  Mr.Harrington silently examines us for injury, shaken by the abrupt stop.

The tour guide lady stands up and brushes herself off.  “I’m sure we’ll be ok.  Just stay calm and help will be on the way.”

“WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!” shouts Flash, on the verge of hyperventilating.  

I grab onto the bar in the elevator and pull myself up to my feet.  I exchange a look with Ned, who looks pale and fearful.  I then look over to Liz, who just finished screaming from the fall.

“Shouldn’t we try to climb out or something?  Through the elevator shaft up there?”  I gesture up to the ceiling, where a latch is.

“Oh, uh… Yeah, she’s right.  That’s part of the procedure,” the lady agrees, nodding.

“Isn’t it more dangerous out there?  What if we get crushed by something?  What if the elevator starts moving again?  What if-” Flash’s expression is that of hysteria.

“We’re fine, Flash,” says Liz, reassuring Flash.

The tour guide gets out her keys and pulls out a special one for the latch.  She reaches up and opens it easily.  “I’ll get out first to help everyone,” she announces before climbing out with ease due to her height.

“Yeah… I-I’ll go out first to help,” stutters Mr.Harrington, clearly just eager to get out of the elevator.

With the help of Mr.Harrington standing on Flash’s back, he scrambles out of the elevator and to the room that’s to the right of the elevator shaft.

“Who's next?”  I look around, trying to stay calm, but panic seeps into my voice anyway.

What if the elevator DOES start moving and we’re all done for?  What if I die? What if I never get to see Peter again?

The last thought makes my heart ache.

“I’ll go next,” volunteers Liz, already climbing onto Flash’s back and out of the elevator with help from the tour guide lady.

Five more kids get out of the elevator.  Left now is Ned, Flash, Betty, and me. “C-can I go next, guys?”  Ned looks around, unsure of whether Flash will give up his hero facade and ask to go next.

We help Ned out of the shaft just before there’s a sudden snap.

The three of us, surprised from the loud noise and from the unexpected drop, scream.  The force causes me to fall on my back, knocking the air out of my lungs and making my head pound from my previous encounter with the falling elevator.

This time something else stops it.  From what I can see out of the escape door and floor of the elevator, it looks like… webs?

Spider-Man?

A head peeks in from the escape opening.  It is Spider-Man.  I can’t see through his mask, but it’s as if I can sense how panic-stricken he is.  

I get up quickly.

“Oh my god it’s Spider-Man.  Spider-Man came to save me, I-I… I’m going to puke,” Flash says, hand at his chest.

“Flash you’re next,” I state.

Flash gladly uses our help to get out and almost faints when Spider-Man grabs his hand to pull him out.

Betty and I look at each other.  Something metal groans and Spider-Man jumps up, webbing himself to the top of the elevator shaft.  He webs the elevator again, slowly pulling us and the elevator up.

Holy fuck, he’s strong.

“You first,” Betty and I say at the same time.

“Really, Betty.  I’ll make it out.”  Realizing how grim that sounded, I offer a weak smile.

She nods gravely and climbs up, taking a boost from my knee.

I’m too fucking short, I register way too late, comparing my height to the distance I’ll need to jump to make it out.

I look up hopelessly at Spider-Man, but I don’t know why.  The way I look at him is similar to that when I look at Peter in a desperate situation.

Now is not the time for this, Y/N.  Besides, Spider-Man could be like 40 years old and you wouldn’t know.

I see Spider-Man studying the elevator and elevator shaft hastily, trying to form a plan, distressed.

________Peter’s POV_________

What am I supposed to do?  How can I save Y/N?  I never got to tell her… NO.  She’s NOT going to die.

As I’m frozen in fear, I don’t realize that the rest of the elevator supports are about to break.

There’s a bang as the supports break off and I’m yanked downward, taken aback by the sudden movement.

Being pulled away from the top of the elevator shaft causes debris to fall, making my web aim on Y/N more difficult.

Nonetheless, the webs still reach Y/N in the elevator shaft, wrapping around her wrist and pulling her through the escape door, suspending her in the air.

She screams and I realize a piece of debris must have hit her.  Her scream reaches somewhere deep inside me and fills me with pain.

Was I too late?  I can’t lose her.  I love her.

It’s probably too soon, but I love her and she’s my soulmate.

I pull her up to me and into my arms and she’s shaking with fear.  There’s a wound and blood trailing from her forehead, down the side of her face.

But she’s ok.  She’s here and she’s in my arms, safe and sound.

She doesn’t know it’s me.

Agony fills me as I realize she probably hates me for not showing up to the National Decathlon and not being here with her.

I softly land in the room to the right of the elevator shaft.  Her face is buried in my shoulder.

“Oh thank god you’re okay, Y/N,” Mr.Harrington says, rushing over to us.  “Thank you so much, Spider-Man.

I nod, hesitant to let her go.  I don’t want to leave her.  I want to tell her the truth about who I am and I want to be here to comfort her.

I take her shoulders and gently push her away, webbing out of the building.

________Y/N’s POV_________

He felt warm and familiar.  Like Peter.  There’s a connection between us.  Like with Peter.

I watch as Spider-Man leaves through a window.

Soon firemen come and we reach the ground.  Flash bursts into tears once he feels his feet on solid ground.  I don’t judge him.

I scan the crowd of people.  Peter is nowhere to be seen.

Where is Peter?  What the hell is wrong with him?  I could’ve died and now he’s not even here.

Ambulance workers hand us shock blankets and lead me away into an ambulance with the consent of Mr.Harrington.

I feel anxiety kick in when they ask me to lay down on a gurney.

Why are they doing this?  I feel fine.

In all honesty, I do feel fine.  But when I think about it, I just feel dazed and numb.

“She may have a concussion.  She doesn’t need stitches for the wound on her head, but it still could’ve caused trauma to the head.  Her wrist is broken,” reads the nurse in the ambulance, peering at a clipboard.

May have a concussion?  Broken wrist?

After a few minutes of them giving me some pain killers, even though I still couldn’t feel anything because of shock, I arrive at the hospital.

They wheel me into a room and start cleaning the wound on my head for a second time, this time bandaging it afterwards.  Someone carefully takes hold of my wrist, which causes pain to shoot through my hand and I flinch.  They wrap it up and begin on a cast after a quick x-ray.

Finally after all the activity, they leave me alone.

I want my mom.  I want someone to be here.  I want to go home.

I want Peter.

After a few minutes, my wish comes true.

Peter rushes into the room and instantly to my side.  “Are you okay?  How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?  You-”

“Where were you, Peter?”

“What?”

“Where were you?”  My voice cracks this time.

Ugh.  I hate crying.

“I- I was… Somewhere.  I- uh...I forgot about it… I guess,” mumbles Peter.  He avoids eye contact.

“Somewhere?  You forgot?  How could you forget?  Peter, the National Decathlon was something you know I’ve been looking forward to for the past month.  And you weren’t there.  And then everyone almost died.  You weren’t there.  Peter I- you…” I stop talking, now aware of the face that tears have spilled down my cheeks.

Peter’s expression is a mask of guilt.  “I’m sorry.  I promise I’ll tell you later-”

“Yeah, that’s what you said on the call earlier.  Later is now.  And if you don’t tell me now, there won’t be a later.”

Why did I just say that?  All I want is for him to tell me what he’s keeping from me.  Why can’t he?

Peter flinches as if I’ve just slapped him across the face.  He takes my hand lightly.  “I promise I will tell you.”  He glances around the room at the cameras.  “I just can’t right now.

“Fine,” I say simply.  “I think you should leave, Peter.”

Peter’s eyes fill with tears as he stops rubbing my hand with his thumb.  He stands up slowly.  “Y/N I- I have to tell you something.  I… I love you.”

I freeze.

He loves me?

Do I love him?

“Peter, I-”

“I understand if you don’t feel the same.  I mean, before all of this you didn’t even really believe in soulmates.  Who knows if it’s a load of crap?  But I love you, Y/N.  You deserve to know that.  I swear on my life that I never meant to hurt you or lie to you, but for now I have to.  I’m leaving, because if that’s truly what will make you want, then that’s what I want for you.”  Peter silently leaves through the door and it shuts quietly, leaving me in silence.

I didn’t want him to leave, so why did I tell him to?

I look down at my hand and stifle a sob, bringing my hand up to cover my mouth.

I love him too.

________Peter’s POV________

I quickly walk out of the hospital and jump up to sit on the rooftop.  Now I let a tear escape.

Does she not love me?  We’re soulmates.  Aren’t we?

I had wanted to tell her so badly.  She seemed so hurt and upset that I’ve been keeping something from her, reasonably so, too.  There were too many cameras.  Too many people that could’ve heard.  If protecting her from being used against me means keeping secrets, I’ll do what I have to.

Maybe I should try to be more like Mr.Stark.  He told the world who he was and yeah there was backlash and his loved ones were put in danger, but he dealt with it, didn’t he?  Mr.Stark won’t accept me and now even Y/N won’t accept me.

I put my head in my hands.

As long as Y/N is okay, I’m okay.  

I would do anything to protect her.

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

Yay relationship issues.  Sorry.  Not yay.  Thanks for reading!

@disfunctionalcellmembrane @marvel4geeks @ilovesupersoldiers @sovereignparker @averyfosterthoughts

Part 7

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,239

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland​

AN: I need to quit fooling you people. Because the trust issues are going to get worse. Maybe this is a silver lining? Maybe? Yes? ...I’ll go away now.

Chapter 55: Sea

“Praying that we’ll remain in this desert till the end. Praying that this isn’t truly our reality.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Two Days Later Jeju Island – Seogwipo South Korea

When Taehyung first came to, he felt warmth blanketing his entire body. Every so often, a gentle brush of cool air passed over him. His limbs ached and it felt like a stone was being pressed against his chest. Breathing was a seemingly impossible task. When he could breathe, the sensation of phantom glass fragments scraped along the insides of his lungs. Coughing was a regular occurrence. Through said coughing fit was how he was able to pull himself back to consciousness.

For a moment, he believed he had, in fact, died. There was a part of him that even accepted it. But he wouldn’t have accepted it with a smile, of that he was most certain.

There were people waiting for him; people he would potentially be leaving behind.

The faces of his brothers and of the woman he loved yanked him from the abyss.

An old man sat next to him, moving a fan slowly over his body. Sweat seemed to cover him from head to toe and there was a large basin of ice beside him. Again, Taehyung coughed and tried to sit up. But the old man placed a hand on his shoulder, gently urging him to lie back down on the futon. What energy he managed to muster quickly slithered out of him, the weight of exhaustion overwhelming him all over again.

Had he actually died?

“Don’t make such a fuss,” said the old man.

The stranger’s skin was bronze from being out in the sun, his worn and wrinkled hands and face gave testimony to the life he lived. His hair was a salt and pepper gray, frazzled from being whipped around in the ocean breeze just outside. Despite his seemingly austere appearance and gruff tone, his dark eyes were gentle as he continued to move the fan back and forth over Taehyung’s prone form.

Taehyung squinted slowly, the light peeling in from the window almost blinding him. He tried to lift his arm to shield his eyes, but found it more difficult than he’d anticipated. Sensing his distress, the old man shifted so his small frame could block as much of the light as he could.

“Where am I?”

The question croaked from Taehyung’s throat, surprising him. Attempting to swallow, he mentally reeled at how terrible he sounded.

He heard the man scoff, a sympathetic smirk pulling at his thin lips. “My home,” he replied simply, resting the fan on his knee, “you’ve got the devil’s luck, young man.”

Taehyung tried to smile but realized it probably looked like a grimace. “You don’t know the half of it, Oroshin.”

He watched the man’s smile widen a measure. “You’re young, but I see you still have some manners.”

Again, he attempted to sit up and failed. The old man seemed to take pity on him, reaching out with his thin arms to help him. When he was up, Taehyung winced at the tight feeling around his chest. He rubbed at it gingerly as the elder pressed a cold compress to his temple. Willing himself not to shrink back at the sudden cold, his eyes wandered around the abode to serve as a distraction.

He could tell that it was the home of a local fisherman. Quaint, humble and quiet; save for the crashing of waves along what he could only assume was the beach nearby. The salt was prevalent in the air, seeping in through what cracks existed in the house. Even though he could feel the cold wind, the floor was warm beneath him.

“Did you save me?”

Dipping the cloth into the ice water, he wrung it out and pressed it back to Taehyung’s head. “The gods saved you, my boy. You were already washed up on the shore when I stumbled across you.” He watched his eyes shifting to his shoulder and Taehyung reached up to touch the dressings over his injury. “I managed to purge the toxins out of you.”

His eyes narrowed. So it was poison, he thought angrily, shifting his gaze to the space between his knees, Lee Jooheon, you son of a bitch…

Taehyung lifted his eyes to meet the old man’s. “How long have I been out?”

“Couple of days now. The worst of it passed yesterday.”

Even though he still ached all over, Taehyung quickly shifted to sit on his knees, bowing his head low to the old man. “I’m in your debt, Oroshin.”

“Nonsense. It’s human nature to help those in need.”

Taehyung raised his head. “It’s a cruel world we live in now. Your kindness is rare in it.”

“Your view of the world is too narrow, my boy.” The old man lifted the fan and smacked Taehyung’s wrist with it. “Now enough of this. Sit comfortably.”

He did as he was told, sitting with his legs crossed in a more comfortable position. “Oroshin, I hate to burden you further, but would you mind taking me into town? I need to get back to Seoul as soon as possible.”

For an uncomfortably long moment, the old man peered at Taehyung – as if gauging what his motive was. But there was only one thing on his mind. He needed to get back to his brothers and warn them of the danger that was coming. There would still be time for them to find Eden and return her to the place she belonged.

…at Jungkook’s side.

Jooheon’s words slammed through his body like a wrecking ball, causing him to visibly shudder. Taehyung couldn’t believe it now that he was lucid. How had Jungkook managed to hide such a huge secret from them all? Then again, they’d all been so busy anticipating the moves of the Jade Fangs that a lot of things could have gone amiss. Something as small as eloping could easily be overlooked.

That didn’t mean he was any less salty about it.

When I get back, he and I are gonna have a little chat…

“Well,” cut the old man’s words through his thoughts, “it’s a good thing this washed up with you then.” He reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out Taehyung’s wallet.

He bowed as he took it from him, opening to see the paper money was worthless. So were his cards. But his ID was still intact. That was the only thing that mattered. If he could prove who he was, getting money would be easy. He peered at the old man expectantly who raised his brows at him.

“I’m assuming my phone didn’t make it?” The elder shook his head and Taehyung sighed. Of course it wouldn’t have made it. That would have been the luckiest break he could get outside of being alive. “I’ll just have to buy another one.”

“Eat something and then I’ll take you to town. You can’t function on an empty stomach.”

Taehyung flashed him his best boxy smile despite the agony he continued to feel. “Thank you, Oroshin.”

After filling his stomach with three full helpings of rice, soup, and freshly caught fish, he thanked the old man profusely for his kindness. When he asked his name, the elder simply smiled and told him to come back when all his business was taken care of. Taehyung promised he would return to repay him for saving his life.

There wasn’t much time to waste. He needed to procure funds to buy a plane ticket back to Seoul. He would worry about a phone once he landed safely. Besides, Taehyung didn’t think he could handle the slew of missed calls and voicemails demanding to know of his whereabouts. He went on blind faith that everything was okay; that his brothers were able to find something out on their end since it was obvious that his own trail was a perfectly placed trap.

The flight back to Seoul was only an hour, but he felt like time crawled at an agonizingly slow pace. The time he had alone on the plane was enough to cause Taehyung to fester in his own guilt. He was angry at himself for falling for such a setup, and he was even angrier that he hadn’t seen it for what it was.

Maybe Hyungwon was right, he thought bitterly, narrowing his eyes as he stared out the window, we’ve gotten fucking soft.

But he stood by what he said. This wouldn’t have been a problem had they taken the Jade Fangs out five years ago. Sacrifices be damned. At least they could avoid the headache inducing bullshit they were suffering right now.

He replayed the scene on Dragon’s Head Cliff repeatedly. No matter how many times he thought about it, Taehyung’s conclusion was the same every single time.

…if I hadn’t dodged, whatever came at me would have hit me straight on. He frowned. They were really trying to kill me.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Curling his hands into fists on the arm rests, he closed his eyes – attempting to stave off an oncoming migraine.

They would be dealt with.

They would all be dealt with.

Taehyung wouldn’t rest until he made sure of it.

Seoul - Cheongdam; Gangnam District South Korea

As soon as he landed in Seoul, he purchased a phone at one of the stores in the airport, activating it on the spot. There were several voicemails and he rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time to listen to them. Now that Taehyung could confidently say he’d met the Reaper at the Gates of the Underworld and walked away, the only person he wanted to see was the woman carrying his child. He had to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming; still sleeping from the effects of the poison.

Taehyung needed just a little more reassurance that he wasn’t dead. That he wasn’t already in Hell.

Hailing a cab, he gave instructions for the driver to take him to Raelyn’s hospital. The woman was so stubborn, insistent on continuing to work as her belly continued to swell with the life in her. Taehyung told her constantly that she didn’t need to work anymore, especially while she was with child. But she was hellbent on having her way and who was he to deny her the freedom to do as she pleased?

He’d have been a fool to try.

Taehyung quickly paid the cab driver, thanking him for getting him to his destination so quickly. He raced through the parking lot, up the steps and just barely clipped his shoulders in his impatience in waiting for the sliding doors to open wide enough to give him entrance. One of Raelyn’s co-workers that he recognized spotted him, her expression forming into shock before melting to discomfort almost immediately. He skidded to a halt in front of her, blocking her path as she seemed to mentally prepare herself to flee.

“Eunsoo-ssi,” he huffed, attempting to catch his breath, “where’s Raelyn?”

She averted her eyes, shrinking back from him as he took a step toward her. Canting his head slightly, he couldn’t hide the confusion on his face. She’d never treated him like this before. In fact, he remembered her playfully doting on him like she would a younger brother. This sudden standoffishness seemed a little unwarranted.

“She…” Eunsoo paused, taking a breath, before lifting her face to meet his gaze. Her brows were furrowed harshly and he could swear that her eyes looked glassier than they had just a few seconds ago. “She’s at the funeral hall.”

Taehyung frowned. “Why?”

“I’m sorry, I have to finish my rounds.”

Eunsoo quickly bowed, side-stepping him to disappear around the corner to the next hall. His gaze followed her as he was left in the main lobby alone.

What the hell is going on? he thought as he made his way toward the elevators. Pressing the button to give him entrance, he pressed the button that led to the mortuary floor where funeral services were typically held. Did something happen to one of their co-workers?

It didn’t take him long to make it to the funeral hall. Various other families were dressed in their traditional mourning attire and rows of wreaths with white carnations lined the walls. White ribbons hung from them, traditional hangul printed on them with the names of the deceased. He barely took notice of them, his eyes frantically searching for any sign of Raelyn.

The weight of sorrow that filled the hall was palpable, making the uncomfortable feeling welling up in his chest almost unbearable. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but Taehyung swore that a dark cloud of dread was hanging over him. He quickly shook his head, attempting to chase the nagging voices from his mind.

This was crazy. He needed to get his head together.

Just as he took another step, he stopped as someone dashed out of one of the rooms. He blinked when he realized the woman dressed in a traditional white mourning garb was Jimin’s older sister. She covered her mouth, smothering a sob, and Taehyung could only blink when she paused just seconds before colliding into him. It seemed to take her a moment to recognize who he was, as it did him for her. Her face was puffy and swollen from all the crying she’d done.

“N-Noona,” Taehyung stammered out, an icy sensation slithering down his spine, “what are you doing here?”

Her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably, her hands reaching out to grasp at the sleeves of his jacket. “Oh, Taehyung-ah,” she choked out, curling her fingers into his arms, “Jimin-ie…he…he…”

Slowly, he craned his neck to peer at the three wreaths lining the walls just outside the room she’d vacated from. He read the names on each of the ribbons draped over the wreaths. Taehyung’s heart froze for half a second before slamming viciously against his chest.

“No way,” he murmured, looking back at Jimin’s sister, “…Noona.”

Instead of answering him, he watched her collapse to her knees – a wailing sound bursting from her. Taehyung heard his very soul shattering as he pivoted on his heels, his legs carrying him into the mourning chamber.

It was crowded, bodies shuffling around as people cried or whispered among themselves. Taehyung didn’t bother removing his shoes as he stepped up onto the small landing. He saw Raelyn out of the corner of his eye. She was the first one to spot him, making her way toward him. But instead of relishing in the comfort of her embrace, the very thing he had so desperately been seeking out since he’d woken up, Taehyung stepped just out of her reach. His eyes focused on the three portraits situated on the table where various foods and flowers were placed.

“Taehyung-ah.” Seokjin called to him, but his voice sounded muffled from the incessant buzzing in his ears. He heard him say his name again and he still couldn’t hear it well.

All he could focus on were the smiling faces of Jungkook, Eden, and Jimin looking back at him from the black frames encasing their visages.

As he took another step, he saw someone move to step in his path – blocking his view of the pictures. When he lifted his eyes, he was now staring into Hoseok’s stern face.

“Where have you been?”

Taehyung continued to stare at Hoseok, blinking slowly as his mind attempted to catch up. He opened his mouth to speak and found he couldn’t find the words.

“We thought you were dead.”

The phrase shook Taehyung; rattling his bones. He visibly flinched, took a breath, then glared up at his older brother.

“Hyung,” he finally managed to say, his voice dropping a full octave, “what is this?” Raising a hand, he pointed to the side of him and gave a wide flourish to the entire scene surrounding them. “What the fuck is this?”

A hand fell on his arm and he felt Raelyn’s swollen belly pressed against his side. She buried her face into the curve of his shoulder, suppressing a sob as she pulled him close. His body felt stiff, like he’d turned into a marble statue. This was all some joke. It had to be. There was no way that any of this was real.

“How?”

“The Jade Fangs were responsible,” cut in Seokjin.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no way that—”

Yoongi sighed gently. “You told us her location, Taehyung-ah.”

It was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his body.

“W-What?” That was impossible. He hadn’t been able to obtain that information. “I didn’t—”

“We realize that now,” added Namjoon. When Taehyung glanced at him, he nearly hiccupped at the dark expression painted over his brother’s face. “They texted us from your phone. It was all a setup from the start.”

Again, silence filled the small space around them save for the members of Jimin’s family who came, as well as friends.

“They’re gone, Taehyung-ah.”

Twisting his face to look back at Hoseok, he noticed his other brothers crowding around him in a semicircle. It wasn’t until his vision went out of focus that Taehyung realized he was now crying.

“What?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “What do—”

Hoseok’s face softened, his brows furrowing before he closed his eyes. “They’re gone.”

The sun slowly set over Seoul’s cityscape. Lights blinked with life in succession, illuminating the darkness. Taehyung listlessly stared out over the vast expanse while standing on the hospital’s rooftop, lips puckered out while indulging on a sucker. He didn’t remember running from the mourning chamber. He didn’t remember banging his knee on the steps as he tripped over his own feet upon his ascent.

No one chased after him. They knew better. They knew he would likely implode if they did.

Taehyung didn’t stay for the cremation process. He would have thrown himself into the flames right along with them. Selfish? Of course he was. He was man enough to admit that all he could see was red.

Pulling out his phone, he crushed the candy between his teeth. Scrolling through the numerous voicemails left by Hoseok, he stopped until he saw Jimin’s name. His thumb hovered over his name, trembling, before he pressed down on the screen.

It automatically played the message on speaker mode.

“Ya, Kim Taehyung,” came Jimin’s voice from the receiver.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed, hearing the pained chuckle that followed.

“…you son of a bitch. How could you just take off for the gates of the Underworld alone? Huh?”

His grip tightened on the phone, feeling his arm shaking from the force of his hold. There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence before he heard Jimin speak again.

“Don’t even think about stirring up a bunch of shit without me. Jungkook and I will be there soon.”

Without any warning, Taehyung fell to his knees. The phone fell with a clatter beside him as his hands gripped onto the roof’s railing. His whole body shook, his silent sobs rattling through him. The tears that streamed from his face were hot and thick. He swore he could feel his own blood leaking from his eyes.

Jungkook. 

Jimin.

Eden.

They were gone. 

Mercilessly ripped away from the life they more than deserved to live.

Someone had to answer for this. 

Someone was going to answer for this.

“I’ll make them pay,” he growled, glaring at the landscape as he ground his teeth together, “I swear to your God, Jimin-ah…”

I’ll fucking kill them all.

[feathersandpaintbrushes]

Entye

ENTYE -  “Debt”

— Chapter 3: Partnership

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4,

Summary: The Mandalorian and Kas learn how to share a ship.

Warnings: mild injury, language, combat (should slow burn be a warning?)

Characters: the Mandalorian (Din Djarin), the child, original character

Disclaimer: Slow burn is an understatement. Don’t worry, it’s worth the wait! Also, I took a long break (almost a year) without posting more of the story. I didn’t stop writing though and have about 15 chapters saved up. Oops.

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Her new life on the Razor Crest wasn’t the most ideal, but it worked more naturally than the solitude of Hoth, despite the many oddities and complications.

There was only one bed, for one.

The first week had passed in a sleep deprived blur for Kas, though she suspected the Mandalorian suffered as much as her.  The fact was that they simply did not trust each other.  Sure, she’d saved his life and he’d offered her a place on his ship, but she was slow to trust anyone anymore.  Especially a masked bounty hunter.  And she couldn’t blame him for not trusting her either.  It had taken days for Kas to not unholter her blaster every time the Mandalorian entered the room, and she was certain this did not encourage him to trust her in return.

But they’d gotten used to each other.  The child was closely attached to the Mandalorian, and for a few days he’d regarded Kas with wide eyes.  But he’d relaxed around her first, crawling onto her lap or chewing on the hilt of her dagger.  And slowly, steadily, she’d gotten more comfortable around the Mandalorian.  Stopped flinching when he reached for something near her.  Stopped freezing with a racing heart as he passed her in the narrow spaces of the ship.  Eventually she’d grown so exhausted by lack of sleep that she’d caved, collapsing on the small bed fully clothed and passed out for hours, not even reaching for her blaster when a gloved hand had shaken her awake.  She’d watched, bemused, as he stumbled headfirst into the bed the second she was out of it, muffled snores coming out all metallic under the helmet he never took off.

Strangely, the single bed was the easiest barrier to hurdle once they got over the fear of being vulnerable while asleep.  The simple fact was that it didn’t make sense for both of them to sleep at the same time anyhow.  One of them had to be up either steering the ship or watching the child.  Kas wasn’t the best pilot; while she was able to keep an eye on things while the ship was in hyperspeed, or man the ship during long stretches of empty space, she was quick to call for the Mandalorian when asteroids or another ship blipped on their radar.

And so their routine became established, sleeping in shifts, spending their waking hours in comfortable silence, slowly learning to speak easily in front of each other.  Their conversations always danced around safe topics – the past, his helmet, personal questions of any kind really – were all subjects they avoided out of respect, and fear that the other might ask similar questions in turn.  But the Mandalorian had a sense of humor that was surprising, and more enjoyable because of it.  Dry sarcasm and gentle teasing were languages they had in common, and when all else failed they could talk to or about the child.  The first morning she found herself humming under her breath as she prepared food for the child was the first morning she realized that she liked it on the ship.  Enjoyed this life, despite the inconveniences and oddities. 

It wasn’t ideal; the bathroom was small and cramped and the sonic shower didn’t always work, forcing her to use the incredibly unreliable real shower; the water sputtered out smelling of sulfur and even gas on one occasion.  But, Kas reflected one particularly annoying morning as the sonic shower refused to turn on even after repeatedly hitting it, and the water pressure left her trying to rinse shampoo out of her hair with a gentle mist, it was better than breaking off chunks of ice to boil in her one small pot and shivering violently while cleaning one small part of her body at a time.

Food was tricky.  The child was nearly always ravenous, and the Mandalorian refused to even sip bone broth in front of her.  This left him crankier than normal and her exasperated to no end until she put a foot down.  A shouting match ended in an uneasy truce that saw her banished to the cockpit with the child for a half hour three times a day so the Mandalorian could hastily gulp down food before the child inevitably escaped her grasp and made its way to the Mandalorian again. 

No, Kas thought to herself as she watched the stars wiz by in hypnotic lines as the ship hurtled through space, the only part about the last month that she couldn’t handle was the feeling that she was trapped.

There really was no escape in a ship this size.  While showering that morning she’d listened sleepily to the muffled shouts and bangs as the Mandalorian tried to stop the child from tearing the ship apart.  She’d eaten her rations on a cramped stool with one hand while gripping the child’s smock in another.  She’d smacked her head so hard on the Mandalorian’s helmet while they both reached for the same fallen tool that her vision had gone black for a moment and she’d gripped to the ship while listening to the Mandalorian’s poorly muffled laughter.  She woke up to the sound of the Mandalorian animatedly discussing the passing stars with the child, despite its inability to speak Basic.  She fell asleep at night to the smell of a stranger on her pillow and the sounds of the Mandalorian fiddling around with the ship’s constantly needed repairs.

Kas missed walking and running and riding the Tuan Tuans.  She missed the stretch and burn in her arms as she climbed a rocky crest in search of something to eat.  It had been three weeks since they’d left the desert planet.  Her arm had ached and itched and burned at intervals, but she’d gently moved it and strengthened it each day, doing pull ups on the ladder or pushups in the narrow hallway, often with the child clambering on her.  Still, she was antsy.  She wished she could work on maintaining and modifying weapons, but still didn’t feel comfortable with the Mandalorian to ask to mess around with his weapon store yet.  She was bored and stir crazy and tired of smelling the same air every day.

“Kas.”

She jumped, fingers automatically reaching for the hilt of her blaster, though she’d long since stopped wearing it around the ship.  The Mandalorian stood next to the captain’s seat, and she cursed him internally for his soft footedness.

“I thought there was another hour left before you got up at least,” she murmured, rubbing a tired hand over her eyes.

“We’re running low on fuel,” the Mandalorian murmured softly; the child must still be asleep then. “I actually came up to see if there was any planet in particular you’d like to stop to refuel at.”

Kas blinked, trying to force her brain into linear thoughts after hours of allowing them to drift aimlessly as she did the monotonous task of “keeping an eye” on things when the ship was on autopilot.

“Somewhere with rain,” she said, surprised at the sudden longing that swept through her.  How long had it been since she’d seen rain? Or something green?

“Rain with cliffs or rain with forests?”

“Cliffs,” Kas said firmly, arms flexing unconsciously as she thought of climbing one until she was higher than the clouds.

---

“Is this what you were hoping for?” Slight skepticism and maybe, if she was right, just a touch of amusement saturated the Mandalorian’s normally crisp words.

“Yes,” Kas breathed, unbuckling her seatbelt quickly and skipping the last few rungs on the ladder in her haste to get to the downpour that was echoing like hail inside the metal ship.

Outside was cold and crisp and clean and Kas stumbled slightly in her eagerness to get out from the sheltering confines of the ship’s entry.

Rain showered against the bare skin of her arms, plastering her thick hair to her neck.  She laughed as she raised her face to the clouds and opened her mouth to let sweet tasting water cover her tongue.  It was elixir.

Opening her eyes she saw the Mandalorian crouching under the safety of the ship’s awning, watching the child splash in a small puddle nearby.

“It’s good for him to be outside like this,” Kas puffed as she jogged over to them.  The Mandalorian lifted his helmet from the child and looked her up and down, taking in her dripping hair and saturated clothes. 

“It seems like he’s not the only one enjoying it.”  The Mandalorian’s voice was as dry as a desert, and she laughed. 

--

They’d parked in a small space port attached to an equally small town.  After paying the alien who owned the port and maintenance shop to refuel and run some minor repairs on the ship, the three of them set out in the rain in search of new supplies and food.

The rain still hadn’t let up, and while Kas and the child delighted in it, the Mandalorian seemed less enthusiastic.  Could a helmet have a sour expression? Kas wondered, smirking as the man’s shoulders rose up high as a stream of water from the roof above splashed against him.

She wasn’t sure how it was possible for a man to look half drowned when he was fully clothed and covered in heavy armor to boot, but she’d never seen someone less enthusiastic about rain before.  The relief coming off the Mandalorian in waves was palpable as they ducked into a small building with a sign out front identifying it as a sort of trade center.

Inside was a maze of spices and ration packs and weapons and medical supplies.  Kas’s fingers twitched and she started towards a particularly lovely display of daggers when a movement around her knee distracted her.  She turned in time to see the child waddling quickly back to the open door and caught up to it in a few quick strides.

“Not so fast you little womp rat,” Kas murmured, snatching him up and settling him on her hips.  “Your dad would never forgive me if you got lost.”

The child’s eyes narrowed and its huge ears drooped, making her smile indulgently at it.

“Want to look at some pretty knives?” she cooed, walking over to the display shelf.  “See this one?”

Kas picked up a slim dagger with an arching cross guard and pommel and offered it to the child, who scrunched his little face up in apparent displeasure.

“You’re right,” she said with a laugh.  “Far too fancy.  And so thin! If you didn’t get it exactly between the ribs it’d snap at the first thrust.  How about this one?”

The continued on for several minutes, Kas handing the little one dagger after dagger to inspect with an intent expression.  After several fairly staunch rejections by them both, they finally came across a promising blade.

It was fairly simple, but elegant despite that.  Deadly sharp, with a horn handle and strong crossguards.  No fancy grooves or patterns marred the blade, but the surface seemed to glow slightly. 

“Careful of this one child,” Kas murmured, cautiously placing the hilt in the reaching hand of the little one in her arms.  The child regarded the blade for a long moment, the slightly iridescent surface reflecting in it’s large eyes.  Then, as if in approval, the child turned the blade over and stuck the rounded pommel in its mouth.

“Your girl chose a good blade there.”

Kas spun around to face the shopkeeper, extracting the blade from the child’s grasp in the same movement.

“Not my girl.” The Mandalorian said firmly, stepping out of the shadows with rations piled in his arms.

“I’m not his girl,” Kas laughed, rolling her eyes.  “I’m my own girl.  What do you know about this blade?”

It was songsteel.  Allegedly.  A valuable, strong weapon if it was true.  Kas frowned at the dagger and then the shopkeeper incredulously.  If it was truly songsteel it was invaluable.  And Kas couldn’t afford invaluable.  Besides, she already had a good dagger. 

Feeling only the slightest pang of regret, Kas handed the songsteel back to the shopkeeper and pulled her own dagger from its customary spot on her waist.

“How about this one, little tauntaun?” she murmured, holding her own old dagger out to him.  The blade was chipped in places, and the handle covered in old blood.  But it was freshly sharpened, and the handle fit her hand like a glove.

The child touched it gently and cooed at her with big eyes.  It was with this dagger she’d save the little one’s life.  She wouldn’t trade it for a new one.

--

The rain had left off slightly, leaving the planet green and feeling so alive Kas imagined it was breathing.  The ship still wasn’t ready so they hiked to a small hill overlooking the port, carrying the child and some of the more spoilable rations they’d picked up.

“You’re good with him.”

Kas turned to see the Mandalorian watching, leaned casually against a tree as she threw her knife at targets, to the child’s obvious delight.

“He just likes the chaos,” she said with a laugh, watching the little one wander excitedly after a frog who’d been unlucky enough to catch its eye.

“Sorry about the shopkeeper.”

Kas blinked and then laughed.  “People see what they want to see.  To him we looked like a nice little nuclear family.  No harm done.  Besides, no one would remember a family stopping in, but a bounty hunter and a little green child and a –” she stopped, and then forced out another laugh.  “It really isn’t a big deal,” she assured him.

“Oh, good.”

“Are you sure?” she teased.  “Because it seems like you’re the one who’s upset by it.”

“I’m not – “ The Mandalorian broke off and she could feel him glare at her from behind the helmet.

“Right.  Got a jealous girlfriend or something? I promise not to tell her we’ve been using the same bed.”

That really riled him, and he stood up straight, posture stiff.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Good,” Kas said, then broke off with a confused laugh.  “Wouldn’t want her to stab me over a little misunderstanding by a shopkeeper.”

Kas turned around and threw her knife back at the target, smiling only slightly when it hit the center again.  She walked to fetch it slowly, feeling confused by the whole interaction.  It was by far the most personal conversation they’d had so far – which was really saying something because in her experience, most men were very keen to tell her how very single they were.  Of course, she thought with more amusement as she wretched the knife out of the log, a Mandalorian was not ‘most men’.  In fact, she still wasn’t convinced he wasn’t a droid.  He stood so stiffly, and a modulator could hide a multitude of sins.

--

They left the planet the next day, to Din’s relief.  They’d spent a little more time in the small town, and Kas had even wrangled the child and himself up a small rock outcrop, passing out fresh bread and meat and some vaguely alcoholic drink when they reached the top, declaring it a ‘fine day for a picnic’ with a wild sort of glee on her face that was only accentuated by the wind that threw her hair around in tangles around her head.  They’d eaten, prevented the child from falling off the cliff, and then climbed back down sore, muddy, and – in Kas and the child’s case – elated.

For Din, watching the planet fade into the distance as he aimed the ship back into space was a relief.  As for Kas…

The woman was in turns solemn, irritated, cheerful, and listless.  She wandered around the ship, moving objects around, poking around in the storage areas, and generally being so distracting that Din ground his teeth behind the privacy of his helmet.

Eventually she’d wandered back into the cockpit and stood over his shoulder until Din thought he might snap.

“Do you want to fight?”

The woman’s voice was… not casual exactly, though it was clear that was the tone she’d been aiming for.  No, Din decided.  It was cautious and a little hopeful.  He looked over his shoulder at her.

Her face was slightly pink, but it was the same look she’d had when examining the knives.  He sighed.

“Sure.”

And so, for several minutes before he got his wits about himself, Din had his ass thoroughly kicked.

Once he got over the initial shock of having a small berserker throwing her entire weight at him, Din got his feet back under himself and started concentrating.

She was small, and very quick, but she lacked armor and therefore really couldn’t afford many direct hits before tiring – her tactic was to get in, get a punch in, and then skitter away.  After noticing this, Din quickly had her back against the side of the ship, his forearm pressed against her throat.

Surprisingly, the woman didn’t look discouraged.  On the contrary, her eyes gleamed and a wide grin split her face.  There was a scar on her lip, he noticed suddenly.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

And so it was that they began to spar for a half hour or so before they ate their evening meal.  More and more often they found themselves at a draw, a fact which alarmed Din, but also drove him to fight harder.  And Kas had been right.

It was fun.

[gaarasgoddess]

Welcome to Suna - Part 3

Welcome to Suna. Where the lights never die and the fun never stops. Sakura and Ino lie to their parents to spend a wild weekend in a forbidden city. Will they regret it? Or will they both find something worth coming for?Main pairing is GaaraxSakura and side InoxKankuro.[Listening to 1989 album by Taylor Swift.]

Chapter summary: More raunchy. And Gaara is a dirty talker.  [my first time writing sexual things like this be kind.]

[Please read previous parts first. part 1 and part 2.]

.x.

His laughter died down and Gaara grinned down at her.

She smiled back up at him, humming softly. Sakura took her time getting up from the ground since her head wanted to spin so fast. The sounds and lights of the fireworks were a distant blur in the corner of her eye. Being drunk was not good for her dignity.

Gaara pulled her up to straddle his thighs, his hands stroking her back and squeezing her backside. She groaned into his ear, closing her eyes and sighing. This was a surprisingly comfortable position. She didn’t want to move.

He applied feather light touches along her hip and up her side, then brushed his thumb against her breast. When she sighed and leant into him, Gaara cupped her breasts and kissed her neck. His lips were soft against her skin as his hands teased her and she started slowly rocking against him. He kissed her ear and she shivered. Gaara decided to take a chance and act on his urges.

“I want to fuck you.” He murmured naughty things into her ear, making her blush and wriggle on top of him. “I want to rub my hands all over your naked, sweaty, gorgeous body.”

Sakura’s stomach clenched nervously and an ache began forming between her legs.

“I want to suck your pussy.”

Sakura gasped. Now rubbing herself against his trousers.

“I want your lips over my cock again.” He groaned at his own words. “I want my name on your lips when you cum on my face. Can you feel me in my pants right now, Sakura? Can you feel my cock against your pussy? How much I want you.”

“Mm-hm.” She nodded, her body flushed as his hips jerked upward.

Sakura felt heavy but she managed to lift her head to start kissing him. If he kept talking she would not be able to handle this. She massaged his tongue as her hips took on a life of their own and he was doing this best to move with her. She groaned when he bit her lip gently.

She was about to burst when Gaara stopped her before she could finish. Sakura whined as he stilled her hips, his fingers digging into her sides.

“We need more privacy,” he said.

Alert suddenly she remembered where they were. She looked around and blushed. Nobody was staring and all the sounds of the fireworks and the festival had not changed but she was very aware of how exposed they were. This had gotten out of control but she didn’t actually care. This was what she’d been thinking of when Ino suggested this weekend. Okay she didn’t have any specific ideas of how she would get off since her experience until now was non-existent - almost kisses and her friend (and NOT boyfriend no matter what he told anyone) Lee had groped her butt once that one time he’d got drunk.

Sakura shuddered the thought away. She only knew what Ino had told her about sex. The blonde was not a slut but she was not shy either.

Sakura shifted off Gaara’s lap as he smacked her butt for letting her mind drift. He grinned at her shy expression and stood with her. For a moment they both held onto each other to keep from swaying and falling over. Everything spun a little more than it was supposed to and she held him tighter than necessary, inhaling his smell. There was alcohol on him but more; she described it as manly but that sounded so corny. Maybe it was B.O.

She laughed out loud, stumbling as the sudden movement almost knocked her over. 

“Are you right there?”

She looked up at Gaara who was confused. She nodded. “Nothing.”

His non-existent eyebrows rose and she stared at them, fascinated. Sakura reached up to touch them, surprised at the smoothness of his skin.

“You’re drunk,” he said.

Sakura giggled. “So are you.”

He grinned back at her. “We’re made for each other.”

She laughed again, almost falling down. He grabbed her, pulling her tighter against his body. She buried her face in his chest waiting for her laughter to die down. When Sakura felt a bit calmer, he took her hand.

“Let’s go,” he said.

She blinked at him. “Where are we going now?”

He squeezed her hand and winked at her. “My place.”

.x.

Gaara called “my man” or whomever that was on the phone. She was confused until a limousine rocked up. He was rich! Her jaw dropped but not for long. He was pulling her along, smug about her reaction, and handed something to the driver before motioning for Sakura to get into the limo before him.

When the door was closed, Gaara pounced. His lips on hers, his hands all over her. She had no time to respond. But Sakura quickly gathered her foggy brain as much as she could and responded eagerly. The kiss was hard but not sloppy which made her addled brain wonder how much more amazing he’d be if not drunk.

No more did she want to listen to the bickering of the angel Naruto and devil Ino. This would silence them for awhile. She was sure of it.

Sakura battled Gaara for dominance even though he was the one lying on top of her. The limo moved underneath them making her groan and pull away. She didn’t want to throw up. Understanding, Gaara sat up and she held tight to her purse as he raided the small fridge nearby. Rich people were so weird. A fridge in a limo?!

He grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, handing one to her then filling them up. Sakura quickly downed the glass and put it aside, grabbing the bottle. He smirked at her as he drank his wine.

“I wonder how I taste,” she said, staring right into his green eyes, they widened in surprise at her candor. Then he was on her again.

There were more drinks in here and she decided to throw caution to the wind. Sakura drank deeply, parting her legs as Gaara kissed his way down her body. She almost laughed again that he was kissing her dress. But his awkward movements told her he was in just as much of a daze as she was so it was fine.

When he got to the hem of her dress he unceremoniously lifted it as she shifted her hips to accommodate him and she paused for a moment, nervous again; they stared at each other. She licked her lips, the bottle of wine an inch from her mouth, frozen; both were breathing heavily then she nodded without thinking.

Gaara tugged on her knickers, his fingers grazing her sensitive skin and making her hum then moan. She shivered as he exposed her sex to his eyes. He liked what he saw; soft pink hair that was barely visible and trimmed nicely. He swallowed heavily, so excited and in awe. He lowered his mouth and Sakura threw her head back, losing her grip on the wine bottle, her knees lifting off the seat in instinct.

His mouth covered her mound and he gently bit her nub. That tongue of his was a beautiful thing as it swirled between her folds and his fingers kept up a steady rhythm on her clitoris as he drank her deeply. Her taste was intoxicating.

“Gaara!” Her hands went to his hair and she tugged his thick, surprisingly soft locks, with every lick his made. Every time he inhaled and sucked her deeply she cried out. She didn’t even notice the movement of the limo now. They must’ve been going on a smooth highway for all the attention she paid.

“Mm. You taste fucking amazing.” Gaara groaned as Sakura’s eyes blurred white and a coil tightened in her body. She came onto him, her groin hot and wet and shivering.

He cleaned her up with his mouth as she continued to tremble at this new experience. Gaara fixed her knickers and kissed his way back up her. She didn’t push him away when he went to kiss her. She didn’t want to taste herself on him. But she was in too deep now. Her body sung and trembled and her drunk mind didn’t care anymore what she tasted like as he made love to her mouth.

When the limo finally came to a halt, she suddenly remembered it and broke the kiss.

“Come on,” he said.

She grabbed her purse, tugged on the hem of her dress to look a little presentable and let Gaara take her hand leading her out of the limo. The drinks were forgotten. He must either be really rich or too drunk to care.

The estate was large and the driveway long but they didn’t go in the front door.

“The door is locked, I don’t have the key on me, it’s late and my parents would kill me for waking them up now.”

“Parents?”

He shrugged as they took a side entrance. “This isn’t a house. It’s an estate. Does it bother you?”

It hadn’t occurred to her he was her age. She thought he was a few years older but she suddenly realised he was a senior high schooler too. She grinned. They were both being naughty this weekend.

“No.” He probably had a whole wing to himself. Rich families were very weird.

He tugged her hand gently and Sakura suddenly felt very fatigued. They couldn’t have sex if she was asleep! She tried to stay aware as they walked through large rooms and past opulent portraits and up a carpeted stairway, but even the  extravagance couldn’t keep her attention. She knew she needed to sleep and not get laid. Sorry Ino.

Suddenly they were at his bedroom door. Suddenly, he was throwing them open. And suddenly, his very comfortable four poster bed was calling to her.

Gaara chuckled as she dumped her purse on a side table and threw herself on his bed, wriggling her bum and getting comfortable. Her deep breathing followed a moment later and he kicked his shoes off before joining her in bed, pulling the blankets over the both of them to try to sleep. Even after a few drinks it wasn’t easy for him.

Besides, they were both too drunk to do anything more than they had, just yet. But morning was going to be a different story.

[eyebeastposts]

A Sinistea Scheme

DA Link

Commission Info

WARNING THIS STORY CONTAINS: Female Age Progression and Minor Weight Gain

 In a mysterious forest Marnie and Gloria go in search of rare Pokemon. What they find instead, is a strange house with a mischievous Sinistea that will take from them something very precious. This is a commissioned story for undeadpenguin37 to go along with a series of images they created. As always, enjoy and feedback is appreciated!

Sequence:  Marnie and Gloria Age Progression, Marnie and Gloria Age Progression 2, Marnie and Gloria Age Progression 3

    A misty fog twisted around the gnarled roots and hardened trunks of the ancient trees. Thick foliage above allowed only a few of the sun’s rays to light the underused trails and paths.  The lack of visibility and foreboding atmosphere led credence to the rumors that swirled around town. Tales of people going missing or coming out as completely different people were meant to deter others from venturing inside. However, that didn’t stop the odd sighting of a rare Pokémon from garnering the interest of two up and coming trainers.

  Her stoic face fitting of the gloomy atmosphere, Marnie tried to peek through the thick fog. Unable to see more than a few feet in front of her, she shook her head back and forth, swinging the tips of her twin-tailed, black hair. Pulling her black jacket over her pink mini-dress, she became more agitated at herself for agreeing to come to this place. Stomping her boots into the ground in frustration, she contemplated hiking out of the woods and never looking back.

  A sudden rustling in the bushes sent a chill down her spine. Grasping a Pokeball between her fingers, she got ready to fight whatever was lurking inside. She only calmed down once she saw a familiar, green hat topped with a white ball of fluff peeking out of the foliage.

  “You can come out Gloria, I can see you,” Marnie announced, putting away her Pokeball.

  Gloria sprung up from the bush, twigs sticking out of her chin-length, brown hair. “I scared you didn’t I?” she asked, a wide grin on her face as she plucked leaves out of her grey hoodie.

  “Isn’t this a little childish even for you?” she asked back, as Gloria fixed the skirt of her magenta dress.

  “So you were scared,” Gloria replied, skipping her brown boots along the ground as she gave an unwanted hug to her friend.

  “I was not,” Marnie replied, a red blush going across her pale cheeks. “I just think we shouldn’t be messing around here. Everyone in town said this forest was dangerous.”

  “You’ve got to stop worrying so much and have fun while you can,” Gloria replied, releasing Marnie from her grasp to twirl around in the clearing. “We’re a pair of plucky, young, 18-year old trainers. If we want to become the best, we have to take every opportunity to capture new Pokémon, explore unknown places, and better our skills. The fact that you’re out here means you feel the same.”

  Marnie grasped Gloria’s hoodie to stop her from spinning. “I’m only out here because of you. If I leave you alone, I’m afraid you’ll get lost.”

  “Come on, that’s only happened once.”

  Marnie replied with a cold stare.

  “…okay maybe three times. In any case, let’s get a move on, you Slowpoke.”

  Gloria bounded off into the woods, leaving Marnie to give chase. Dodging low hanging branches and twisted roots, Marnie somehow managed to keep pace with the overly excited girl. Using her arms to shield her face from a bramble of twigs, she blindly stumbled into a dead still Gloria. Reeling backwards, Marnie got ready to scold her companion until she saw what was before them.

  Looking very out of place from the overgrown forest was a decrepit house that appeared long abandoned. The windows were either cracked or missing with vines creeping through the open slits. What few tiles remained on the roof looked ready to fall apart the moment a bird landed on them. A stray wind sent a stone from the crumbling chimney rolling onto the forest floor. Despite all this, the old door barely hanging off its hinges seemed to whisper to them to come inside.

  “Let’s go check it out,” Gloria said, stepping forward only to be stopped by Marnie grabbing her arm.

  “Maybe we should just leave. All you’re going to find in there is just dust and junk.”

  “But what if there’s a really cool Pokémon in there?” she asked back, shaking in place from anticipation. “It’ll just be a quick second, I promise.”

  Giving up on trying to convince her fellow trainer to make a logical decision, Marnie released her grasp. “Okay, but just for a second.”

  Pressing on the door with just a meager amount of strength was enough to send it falling into the entryway. The impact shook the dust off the bookshelves and rattled around the broken glass along the creaky floor. Undeterred by her less than graceful entrance, Gloria proceeded inside with Marnie close by. While’s Gloria’s pep was unhindered, Marnie found herself tightly grasping a Pokeball, ready at any moment to toss it at whatever terrifying thing may lurk around the next corner.

  Marnie’s fears were unrealized as they made their way to a quaint looking sitting area. A fireplace that hadn’t known warmth for ages sat in silence in the middle of the room. Dusty couches and chairs were strewn atop a torn up rug, the intricate patterns sewn into the fabric proving that at some point they were cared for. Taking up one corner of the room were a pair of armchairs and a small coffee table, a once perfect place to cuddle up with a good book or entertain pleasant company.

  Upon the table was a small, porcelain tea cup. It’s intricately designed blue pattern stood out amongst the rest of the dusty room with is refined craftsmanship. A face had been painted on to the side, a wide smile and big eyes mimicking a cheerful expression. Most strange of all were the wisps of steam drifting up from it. Stepping closer to the tea cup, Marnie and Gloria saw a swirling, purple liquid inside.

  “What do you think this is?” Gloria asked, lifting up the cup.

  “I don’t know, but you probably shouldn’t be-“

  Marnie stared in awestruck silence as Gloria took a sip of the mystery beverage.

  “Tastes pretty good at least,” Gloria said, smacking her lips. “I think it’s some kind of tea.”

  “Are you insane or just stupid?” Marnie asked, snatching the cup from her. “Who knows how long it’s been sitting in this house. You could have been poisoned.”

  “But I feel fine,” Gloria said with a shrug. “Plus, it’s really good. You should try it for yourself.”

  “That’s not-“

  “Stop worrying so much and drink. You have to learn to live a little.”

  Partly from her own exhaustion of having to deal with Gloria’s shenanigans, Marnie did find herself a little parched from roughing it through the woods. Putting the cup to her lips, she closed her eyes and took a small sip. Just a few drops graced her tongue, but it was more than enough to sate her worries. The liquid brought a sense of calm to her hectic day, encouraging her to take another sip. Letting out a relaxed sigh, she opened her eyes to see the eyes on the cup blink back at her.

  With a yelp, Marnie tossed the cup across the room. Instead of shattering against the wall, the cup floated in mid-air. The purple liquid inside reached out to grasp the cup’s handle and turn the face towards the confused trainers. “Sinistea!” it chirped, bobbing up and down as it showed off its wide smile.

  Marnie immediately pulled out her Pokedex and aimed it at the living tea cup. “Sinistea, the Black Tea Pokémon,” the robotic voice spouted. “This Pokémon is said to have been born when a lonely spirit possessed a cold, leftover cup of tea. It absorbs the life-force of those who drink it.”

  “What does that mean?” Gloria shouted, keeping her eyes on the Pokémon.

  “I don’t know, just grab it,” Marnie replied, stowing her Pokedex and making a mad dash towards the Sinistea.

  The living tea cup barely escaped the girls’ grasps as it floated through the air. Recovering quickly from slamming into one another, they tried again to snatch it before it could get away. Running through the house after it, they immediately panicked as they watched it fly out the front entrance. Marnie leapt past Gloria to try one last time to grab the Sinistea, only to be sent tumbling down by a sudden pain in her legs. Landing face flat onto the porch, she looked up just in time to watch the Sinistea disappear into the fog.

  “Are you okay?” Marnie heard Gloria ask from behind her.

  “Y-yeah,” Marnie replied, still recovering from the fall, “but the Sinistea got away.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. There was this stinging pain in my leg. Like something sapped me of my strength.”

  Marnie saw Gloria’s outstretched hand and grabbed it to help herself stand up. Wobbling to her feet, it took a moment for her to catch her bearings, unused to something offsetting her balance. Turning back to thank her friend for the help, she stopped as she saw a blinding streak of grey going through Gloria’s hair.

  “Gloria, what happened to your hair?”

  “I was just about to ask the same thing about you,” she replied, plucking a grey strand from one of Marnie’s twin tails. “And, I don’t mean to be rude, but have your thighs always been that big?

  Looking down at the area where she had initially felt pain, Marnie saw extra padding around her thigh. Pressing into it confirmed it was hers, alongside bringing back an aching pain. She had been running alongside Gloria for multiple trips, but this was the first time she actually got cramps from the exercise. Fearing for the worst, she pulled out her phone and dialed up Sonia.

  “Hello Marnie,” the young researcher answered. “How’s your trip to the-“

  “Sonia we have a problem,” Marnie interjected. “We had a run in with a Sinistea.”

  “That’s odd, they’re not usually seen in this part of the region. Were you able to catch it?”

  “No. We drank some of its tea and then-“

  “You drank the tea!?”

  Gloria grasped Marnie’s hand and pulled the phone towards herself. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

  “The effects aren’t completely known, but there are some theories. One of which being that Sinistea can suck energy out of people. It can cause things such as weakness, slowed metabolism, and even rapid aging, but that last part has been deemed a myth.”

  Marnie and Gloria looked at one another’s strands of grey hair.

  “Sonia, we’re coming to the lab,” Marnie said, grabbing Gloria on the way out of the forest.

  “We need you to take a look at something.”

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  Two weeks had passed since Marnie and Gloria had entered the house and drank the corrupted tea. During that time, they had been camping out in the woods searching under every rock and inside every bush. Their search was ultimately fruitless, unable to see even a trace of the Sinistea that had tainted them with its vile brew. This went beyond merely getting revenge for a harmless prank. Finding the Pokémon was about getting back something dear to them that they had lost.

  After hours of traversing the foggy woods, Marnie could no longer keep up with Gloria. Leaving her companion to climb up a tree for a better view, she made her way back to camp and slumped down in a chair. Pulling out her phone, she reread the notes Sonia had sent her about the Sinistea. Describing the side effects brought the professor to a conclusion that Marnie wasn’t willing to believe was real. However, over the course of the week of watching both of their bodies change, she had to accept that the legends were true.

  Pulling out a hand mirror, she lamented the strands of grey that were mixed in with her black hair. Holding up one of her twin tails, she was still amazed how they could have doubled in length in such a small amount of time. However, the increase in size was not limited to just her hair as evidenced by the padding surrounding her thighs. The dress that was once cute on her was starting to show its wear and tear from her time in the woods and her body’s changes. Her once modest chest had ballooned into a pair of C-cups, which would have been more appreciated if they didn’t stretch out her dress. The added curves of her hips sucked up some of the fabric of her skirt, letting her get a feel for the start of a chubby belly around her flat-midsection.

  Ignoring her sore legs and disheveled clothing for a moment, Marnie lifted the hand mirror up to her face. Looking at her reflection, she guessed she was in her late thirties or even her early forties. Tracing her finger along what was the start of wrinkles around her face, she was both amazed and furious that this was all caused by a single Pokémon.

  A thrashing in the bushes got Marnie to put away her mirror. Taking a moment to get out of her camping chair, she pulled out a Pokeball at the slight chance that her target would appear. The sight of ball of white fluff peeking out filled her with a mix of relief and disappointment.

  From out of the bush, Gloria came out with her formfitting outfit showing off her matured curves and numerous twigs stuck in her jacket. To make way for her buxom, D-cup breasts, she had opened up her coat to let them swing back and forth. Her run through the woods left her breathing heavily, stumbling right past Marnie to plant her wide hips in a chair. Pushing back the streaks of grey mixed in with her hair, she rested her chubby legs and placed a hand over her still beating chest.

  “What were you doing out there anyway?” Marnie asked.

  “Same as I’ve been doing this past week,” she replied, one hand on her wider mid-section and another wiping a bead of sweat from the lines of her forming crow’s feet. “Been running all over the woods looking for that Sinistea. After I reached the top of the tree, I saw something moving around and I leapt off after it. Turned out to just be a Skwovet.”

  Fishing a water canteen out of her bag, Marnie took a small sip before handing it over to Gloria. “I know the professor said that we need to catch it in order to reverse the aging, but you need to be careful. Who knows what our bodies can handle right now.”

  Graciously accepting the canteen, Gloria took a long gulp. “Well, it’s not like we’re trying to catch an everyday Rookidee. You heard Sonia, Sinistea is a rare sighting in this area. That might be the only one.” Taking another sip of water, she placed the canteen on the ground between them. “We have to give it our all before it decides to vanish into thin air.”

  “I still think we should be careful about it. Ghost Pokemon in general can be tricky, especially one that can suck up life energy.”

  Gloria shook her head. “You trying to act your age? We might look like our moms, but we’re still young enough to take on any challenge head on.” Picking up the canteen, she took another sip before handing it back to Marnie. “Did you put something in the water? It tastes a little funny.”

  “No,” Marnie replied, taking back the canteen. Putting the container to her lips, she tasted something that was both strange and familiar. Swallowing a mouthful of the water, she peeked inside the container and saw a glimmer of purple.

  “Sinistea!”

  Marnie and Gloria jumped out of their seats as they turned to see the Pokémon they had been searching for hovering just a few feet behind them. Turning over the canteen, Marnie watched as a mixture of water and purple tea came trickling out onto the ground. “It did it again!” she yelled, tossing the canteen to the ground.

  “Grab it!”

  Again, Gloria and Marnie leapt towards the Pokémon only to succeed in slamming into one another. The impact was cushioned slightly by their curvier forms, but swift aches in their legs made them instantly regret their decision. Sprawled out on the forest floor, the pair of trainers slowly picked themselves up. Stopping to look at the scuff marks on each other’s faces, they watched as several more strands of grey appeared in their hair.

  “Sinistea-tea-tea,” the Pokémon laughed, bouncing up and down to celebrate what it thought was a harmless prank. Gloria reaching a single hand out towards it was enough to send it bobbing off back into the misty woods. All that remained was the purple liquid seeping into the dirt and a few extra inches added to their hair and waistlines.

  “It’s treating this like a game,” Marnie said, her body creaking as she held onto her chair to help pick herself up.

  “Well, it’s not a very fun one,” Gloria replied, stumbling a bit as she tried to get her legs to remain steady.

  Settling in her chair, Marnie rested her weakened legs, feeling even more tired than before. Holding up her hand, she could see that her nails were already longer than she remembered. Clenching her fist, she wondered just how much worse it could get.

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  A loud ripping noise made Marnie stop dead in her tracks. After trekking through the forest for countless hours she knew what the sound meant. Carefully maneuvering her body to avoid any unnecessary stretching or cramps, she shrugged off the remnants of her jacket. The poor piece of clothing had served her well, but it had been torn apart by stray branches and the results of her changing body. It was just one of many things that had been taken from her by the Sinistea’s idea of harmless pranks.

  Looking away from her tattered jacket, her gaze drifted down to her breasts, ample in their E-cup size, but lacking in posture. Without her jacket squeezed around her torso, her boobs were free to sag several inches down. The slight pudge of her belly caught the heavy mounds, the only advantage of the weight gained from her slowed metabolism. Unable to bring herself to toss the garment away, she tied what remained of her jacket around her hips, helping to cover the extra padding around her rear and the added chub around her thighs.

  Jacket secured around her body, she turned to continue her walk back to camp. Her movement was stopped again by one of her twin tails swinging around and catching in the front. Grasping the errant strands in her hand, she found it harder to find more than a few black hairs mixed in with the grey. Brushing it behind her back, she felt the tip sway against her bare calves. Fixing up the stray hairs above her forehead, she inadvertently pressed her fingers against her prominent crow’s feet. She traced the wrinkles that had begun to from around her cheeks. The face lines helped cement her appearance of being around 60 years old despite only three weeks having passed since her first run in with the Sinistea.

  With her appearance put into a somewhat acceptable state, she trudged through the woods back towards the campsite. Each step was a stark reminder of how tired her legs were after what should have been an easy walk. Ever since her second helping of the tainted tea, she had become less willing to trudge her way through the underbrush in favor of trails that winded between the trees. This highly limited her ability to search for the elusive Pokémon, but it was necessary to keep her legs from cramping up every few minutes.

  Setting her sights on the camp site, Marnie allowed herself to let out an exhausted sigh of relief. Already planning to lounge about in a chair to rest her weary bones, her calm mood was immediately disturbed by an unwanted guest floating about their food supply. The Sinistea was busy pouring its foul, purple liquid into one of their water containers, a trick that it had played many times to accelerate their aging.

  Keeping her eyes trained on Sinistea, Marnie reached for her Pokeball. She had learned from their previous encounters how slippery the little Pokémon could be. Clenching her fingers around the ball containing Morpeko, she was ready to launch a surprise attack to finally capture the malevolent prankster.

  Something whizzing by her head made Marnie nearly fall over. In the center of the camp, she watched someone else’s Pokeball bounce against the dirt before releasing its contents. From a bright red flash, the unmistakable intimidating stature of a Snorlax was seen. Stomping its heavy feet into the ground, the heavyset beast opened its mouth for a roar that almost sounded like a yawn. Taking her eyes away from the lumbering giant, Marnie turned to the side, knowing who would be there.

  As expected, she saw Gloria doubled over and breathing heavily with her hat a few inches away from falling off. Despite her sagging chest, pudgy waistline, and padded rear being just as cumbersome as Marnie’s, the fact that she needed to take things slow hadn’t quite registered in her head. Even with the buttons on her shirt about ready to snap and her jacket in tatters, she looked like she had charged straight through the woods without a care for her safety. Her rashness showed its toll in the way her unkempt, hair bounced against her chest, the brown and grey follicles carrying stray leaves and twigs. Wrinkles around her cheeks were more pronounced than Marnie’s, owing to her big expressions and tendency to smile. However, her cheerful attitude was nowhere to be seen, replaced with a determination that kept her eyes locked on their elusive target.

  “Gloria what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Ending that little prankster’s reign of terror and getting our youth back,” she replied, striking the most dynamic pose her aged body would allow. “You just watch. Snorlax is my strongest Pokémon. He’ll take care of Sinistea before you know it.”

  “That’s not going to work. Snorlax is-UGH!” Marnie had to stop as a sudden cramp sent a sharp pain through her leg. Crumpling to the ground, she could only watch as her friend stepped forward to lead the battle.

  “Snorlax, finish this off quick with a body slam!” Gloria shouted, hoisting up her fist and shaking the pudge clinging to her upper arm.

  The hulking beast proved to be surprisingly mobile as he charged towards the Sinistea. Leaping into the air, Snorlax flattened himself out to eclipse the sun with his body. His mass came slamming down with enough force to blow away their tent and scatter the leaves from the branches of the nearby trees. Slowly picking himself up, Snorlax revealed the flattened earth beneath him, minus any sign of the malevolent tea cup.

  “Sinistea-tea-tea,” the ghostly tea cup laughed from behind him, having easily dodged the massive brute.

  “Go for another body slam!” Gloria commanded, hoisting up her arm with a little less energy.

  Again Snorlax leapt into the sky and came slamming down on the Sinistea. Just like before, Sinistea floated away to safety as he crushed one of their camping chairs. Picking himself back up, Snorlax continued to slam his body all over the campsite in an attempt to capture the mischievous Pokémon. All that managed to do was destroy half of their supplies and put on a good show for malevolent spirit.

  “I don’t understand,” Gloria said, tired just from the act of calling out attacks. “How can Snorlax keep missing?”

  “Because normal type attacks don’t work on ghost Pokémon,” Marnie answered, having to shout over the sound of Snorlax crashing through a table. “Call Snorlax back and let me take care of it. Morpeko should be able to-“

  “No, I can handle this!” Gloria demanded, out of breath from her constant commands. “Snorlax is my strongest Pokémon, I know he can do it.” Standing up straight, she set her eyes on the Sinistea. “Snorlax, use hyper beam!” she shouted, raising her fist only to crumple from a sudden cramp.

  While his trainer was worse for wear, Snorlax heard the command loud and clear. Stomping his feet into the ground, he began sucking up air to collect energy in his mouth. Reeling backwards, he let the energy loose with a beam of yellow light aimed directly at the Sinistea.

Neither Gloria or Marnie could see what happened, only the aftermath. Amidst the wrecked campsite and beaten dirt, Snorlax stood alone. A portion of the forest had been burned clear by the attack, leaving several trees reduced to ash. The powerful attack had left Snorlax wobbling on his feet, gasping for air from his exertion. At first glance, there were no signs of Sinistea. For a moment, they both silently wondered if it had been vaporized from existence.

  From out of the trees, something came flying out to slam right into the Snorlax’s chest. The impact was enough to send the brute tumbling to the ground. Giving into his exhaustion, Snorlax closed his eyes as he went unconscious. Hovering above his motionless form, Sinistea floated as its entire body began to glow. Blocking their vision from the blinding light, Gloria and Marnie looked up again to see what looked like an antique tea pot, baring the same designs of the accursed tea cup. The lid popped off to make way for a head of purple liquid to peek out and smile at the dumbfounded trainers.

  “Did it just evolve?” Gloria asked.

  “No, that can’t be right,” Marnie said, pulling out her Pokedex to look up information on the evolved form. “Sinistea shouldn’t be able to evolve without a specific item. How did it become a-“

  “Polteageist-geist-geist!” the possessed tea pot called out.

  Whirling about in the air, Polteageist aimed its spout at the awestruck trainer’s open mouths. Before Marnie could glance at the warning printed on Polteageist’s entry, it was already too late. A spout of the cursed tea spritzed into both of their mouths, assuring another increase in their aging process. Trying in vain to spit out the tea, the pair watched the Pokémon drift back into the misty woods.

  “Don’t just stand there, let’s get him,” Gloria called out, only to stumble onto the ground.

  “You can’t keep doing that,” Marnie reprimanded. Holding up her hair, she watched a few of her remaining black strands turn grey. “We need to be careful. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

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  Carefully tying the rope around the root set the trap. It was an admittedly simple setup, using a glass of water as bait to draw in Polteageist. The plan was that as soon as the Pokémon went to taint the drink, a Pokeball suspended above would fall right onto it. If they were lucky, Polteageist would be caught and they could return to their youthful days that seemed so long ago.

  Marnie’s back creaked loudly as she got back into a standing position. She carefully guided her swaying twin tailed hair as she stood up, their tips nearly reaching the ground. Holding one between her bony fingers, she grimaced at the sight of the blinding white color that had taken over her locks. Sliding her elongated nails through the pale strands, she still couldn’t believe how fast her body had aged in only three days. Although it was hard to deny the facts when looking at her body.

  Letting her hair go allowed the strands to brush against her pudgy belly, the chubby protrusion peeking out between a rip in her dress. The collar of her dress had stretched out to make way for her sagging breasts, each one hanging off the side of her belly. Reaching a flabby, arm back she tried to carefully pull her skirt over her chunky butt, her pale skin and liver spots showing the wear and tear of a woman that was nearing 80. Sliding her fingers along the various wrinkles adorning her forehead, cheeks, and neck she was very aware how little time left she had to capture Polteageist. Pulling her fingers away from the deep bags under eyes, she grasped the stick she used as a makeshift walking cane and shuffled her way back to camp.

  She found Gloria just where she left her. After trading shifts to setup traps, the once energetic trainer was supposed to be napping in their sole surviving chair from her Snorlax’s battle. However, the stubborn, senior trainer was still wide awake, greeting Marnie with a weak wave as she kept her eyes trained on the woods on the off chance she would see Polteageist.

  The aging effects had hit Gloria just as hard as Marnie, if not harder due to her insistence of pushing her weakened form to its limits. Despite her constant efforts, that didn’t stop a pudgy potbelly from taking up her mid-section. Her woolen jacket long abandoned after countless rips and tears, she was down to just her blouse, with several buttons devoted to keeping her drooping bosom somewhat in control. Varicose veins could be seen spread across her bare, pale legs shifting alongside her pudge as she nervously shifted her padded rear against the seat.

  Upon hearing Marnie’s stick break open a twig Gloria turned towards her, chest-length mop of white hair partially obscuring her face. Brushing aside the wispy locks and stuffing them into her worn-out hat, she showed the various wrinkles that covered her face. Most notable were the lines drawn around her cheeks that came from her constant smiling before her latest change. Now though, the wrinkles just served as a reminder of a time when they had a better chance of regaining what was lost.

  “Did you see it?” Gloria asked, her scratchy voice holding only a fraction of her usual enthusiasm.

  “No, but the traps are set,” Marnie responded in a similarly crone-like voice. “All we can do is wait.” Stopping near a tree, Marnie carefully lowered herself down to avoid damaging her brittle bones. “More importantly, why are you still awake? I told you that you needed to rest.”

  Gloria let out an annoyed huff. “You honestly expect me to sleep the day away like an old hag while that thing is still out there? Sitting on my butt isn’t going to help us find it any faster.”

  “I understand how you feel, but you won’t help anyone if you’re sprawled out on the ground because of a sprained ankle or broken hip. We’re not young anymore. We have to be careful to not waste what little time we have left.”

  Biting her lip, Gloria slowly got up from her feet and started shuffling towards the trees.

  “Where are you going?” Marnie asked, already grasping her walking stick.

  “Back to look through the forest. You said it yourself that those traps are a long shot. The only way we’ll make progress is if I go out and do some legwork.”

  “I told you,” Marnie said, grunting as she got back on her feet, “we can’t do that. You push your body too far and I might not be strong enough to help you.”

  “Then don’t worry about me. Just let me search by myself.”

  Marnie ignored her creaking joints to step in front of Gloria’s path. “I can’t let you do that.”

Gloria pushed into her friend, ripping another tear in both of their clothing. “Let me through Marnie.”

  “No,” she replied, dropping her walking stick to grasp Gloria’s wrists. “I’m not going to let your kill yourself out there.”

  Pushing back a little harder, Gloria tried to escape her friend’s hold. “If I don’t do anything at all, we’ll both be dead before the end of the week.”

  Feeling Gloria push back, Marnie exerted her weakened muscles to bring them both to the ground. Amidst the rustling of fallen leaves and their creaking joints, the pair continued to struggle against one another.

  “Why are you like this?” Marnie asked, gritting her teeth as Gloria’s kneed her in her stomach pudge.

  “You call me your friend and you still have to ask that, you old geezer?” Gloria shot back.

  “I do know you, but you’ve never been this reckless. Why are you so willing to push yourself so hard?”

  “Because it’s my fault we’re like this!”

  Gloria’s shout made them both stop dead still. Slowly Marnie released Gloria’s arms and rolled off of her. Looking back to her friend, she saw tears starting to stream down the lines on her face.

  “If it wasn’t for me…we wouldn’t be like this,” Gloria said clenching her fists. “You tried to tell me to stop. You warned me it could be dangerous, but I’m the idiot who didn’t listen.” She paused to wipe away the tears dripping down her cheeks. “After all that talk about enjoying our youth, I went and wasted it away with my stupid decisions. Even worse, everything I’ve tried to do to fix things just screwed us up even more.” Unable to contain herself any more, she buried her head in her arms and let he tears flow freely.

  Shuffling along the ground, Marnie wrapped her arms around Gloria. “You made a mistake, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed. It was my decision to follow you into the house and it’s by my own free will that I’ve stuck with you during this ordeal. Gloria, you’ve been my friend for what feels like decades. We might be in our sunset years, but I don’t regret getting to spend that time with you.”

  With a sniffle, Gloria peeked her head up. “You mean it?”

  “Of course. I know we’ll get through this, but we have to do it together. Is that a promise?”

A small smile crept across Gloria’s wrinkled face. “Promise,” she said, leaning forward to return the hug with her own, nearly breaking Marnie’s back in the process.

  Something snapping nearby made them both turn their heads back towards the forest. A flash of red light in the trees similar to a Pokeball going off made them stagger to their feet and move as fast as their decrepit bodies would allow. Climbing over stray roots, they arrived just in time to see one of their traps had sprung. The Pokeball rolled along the ground, the creature inside struggling to escape. They only exhaled once the light turned off and the ball remained motionless.

  Neither trainer moved towards the ball, on the off chance Polteageist was using it as a trap. Very carefully, they both pulled out their Pokedexes and aimed it at the captured Pokémon. Anxiety gripped them as their devices read the data inside. Seeing the image of Polteageist spring up on the screen, Marnie showed off her rare smile and let Gloria pull her into another hug.

  “We did it! We did it!” Gloria shouted.

  “I know, I know, you don’t have to yell my ear off. My hearing is bad enough as it is,” Marnie replied. “Although, I don’t remember if I set that trap or not. Who knows which one of us caught it.”

  “Who cares? All that’s important is that we got the little trickster and we can be young again. Phone up Sonia and tell her the good news.”

  Slipping out of Gloria’s grasp, Marnie pulled up her phone and tapped her bony fingers away at the screen as fast as she could. “Sonia,” she said, putting the professor on speaker phone, “we did it. We caught the Polteageist.”

  “That’s excellent news,” Sonia replied on the other end of the line. “Just in time too, I just figured out the method needed to reverse the aging effects.”

  “Well don’t keep us waiting,” Gloria butted in, regaining some of her youthful energy, “tell us how soon we can stop being senior citizens.”

  “About that…”

  An unsettling silence filled the area.

  “Sonia,” Marnie spoke, “what’s going on? Can’t you reverse our aging?”

  “I can, but…”

  “But what?” Gloria asked, shaking the phone in Marnie’s hands.

  “Well, I can reverse the process, but it requires all of the energy that Polteageist has stored. There will only be enough to turn one of you back.”

  Marnie bit her lip. “Sonia, if this is some kind of joke-“

  “It’s not!” the professor shouted. “I’m afraid it’s our only option. You’ll have to decide which one of you will go back to normal.”

  A dead silence pervaded the misty area. Slowly Gloria released Marnie’s hand. Devoid of any of her former levity, she opened her mouth.

  “No,” Marnie stated.

  “But I-“

  “I said no,” Marnie repeated to Gloria. “If you just give it to me, I won’t be able to live with myself.”

  “It’s my fault though. Let me make up for it.”

  “That wouldn’t be fair to you though.”

  Gloria pulled off her hat and slammed it onto the ground. “Then how else do we decide it?”

  Marnie showed off a confident grin. “The only way trainers like us know how.”

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  Stepping in front of the locker room mirror, Marnie tried to memorize the image of her nude, aged up body. She detested her pale skin, liver spots, chubby belly, and sagging breasts, but she knew that this might be the last time she would see herself like this for many years. Holding one of her tails of hair in her hands, the sight of black mixed in with the grey showed that her body had regained some of her youth. The glimmer of hope was extinguished by the thought that any further changes would require the full strength of Polteageist, dooming either Gloria or herself to be stuck in their elderly state.

  Pushing her concerns to the side, Marnie turned to a more immediate problem. Taking her trainer uniform off the rack, she sucked in her gut as she squeezed the top down her torso. Her drooping breasts regained some of their form from the tight shirt, at the cost of leaving her pudgy belly on display. Putting on her shorts turned out to be just as difficult, if not worse. Each tug of the tight fabric over her sore legs brought a slight pain to her aching bones. Barely fitting the shorts over her hips, she peeked back at her ridiculous reflection in the mirror. Bemoaning the fact that their need to rush putting together an official match left no time to acquire more fitting uniforms, Marnie double-checked her Pokeballs and exited the locker room.

  Walking out onto the field, she reminisced about the blood pumping battles she had experienced in this stadium. Despite her odd appearance, the crowd was still alive with excitement of seeing her skills. This was especially true considering the stakes of the battle and who her opponent was.

  Arriving at the center of the field around the same time as Marnie, Gloria hobbled up looking just as haggard. Like Marnie, her unfit uniform didn’t do any favors in the way it put front and center her pendulum-like breasts, chubby waistline, and cellulite-covered thighs. Upon seeing Marnie reach her, she managed to force a smile on her wrinkled face. Pushing back her locks of brown and grey hair she stepped up to meet her, her smile wavering as she glanced at Marnie’s shaking legs.

  “Marnie…are you sure you want to do this?”

  Marnie let out a sigh as she pulled out her first Pokeball. “Yes, I’m sure. I wouldn’t feel right about you just giving away Polteageist. I’d be young again, but I couldn’t bear to watch you suffer alone. It’s better this way.”

  “If you say so,” Gloria replied lowering her head as she pulled out her Pokeball.

  “Don’t be so gloomy,” Marnie said with a smile to curl the wrinkles on her cheeks. “When this is over, we’ll still be friends. One us will just be a bit wiser, in both age and fighting skill. Now come on, I don’t want you going easy on me.”

  Gloria mirrored Marnie’s expression. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  Shaking each other’s hands, the old women shuffled to their starting points. The announcer came up on the loudspeaker, hyping up the skills and stakes of the two trainers’ battle. With the crowd properly riled up, the announcer began counting down. Reaching zero, the buzzer sounded to start the match.

  A pair of loud cracks echoed through the stadium. The crowd’s enthusiasm was dampened by the sight of Gloria and Marnie crumpled over in pain from overextending their throwing arms. Watching from the balcony seats, Sonia could only wince as she watched the two trainers try to recover from the pain.

  “I can only pray I’m not like that when I reach their age.”

  Turning around, Sonia saw Professor Magnolia standing behind her. “Professor? What are you doing here?”

  “Same as you,” the old professor replied, taking her seat. “I wanted to see the fight.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a Pokeball and handed it out towards Sonia. “That and I thought you might want this.”

  “What is it?”

  “When I heard about their peculiar predicament, I recalled some research notes sent to me by another young trainer in the region. I phoned him up and he just so happened to have a captured a Polteageist that matched the markings of the one they encountered.”

  “This is great!” Sonia said, clutching onto the ball for dear life. “Should we stop the match?”

  “No, let them fight it out,” Magnolia replied, watching the trainers summon the strength to gently bounce their Pokeballs out onto the field. “We’ll tell them about the other Polteageist after the match. It’s rare that you get to see two friends give it their all in battle. Should be something truly worthy of reminiscing about when they reach this age again.”

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 18)

Rating: T Warnings: Violence Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18

“They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

Even weeks later, Ayame could not leave the subject alone. She brought the subject of Rangiku's victory up so frequently and so loudly that Rangiku had developed a scheme to feign deafness whenever Ayame started up.

"I just don't understand why you wouldn't-" Ayame would huff.

"What? I'm sorry, Ayame-chan, but I-"

"I said that I just don't understand why-"

"SORRY, AYAME-CHAN, BUT SUDDENLY IT'S VERY HARD TO HEAR ANYTHING. I think I might have blocked ears!" Rangiku would cheerfully lie.

Ayame would glare. "Don’t be so immature. You can't just pretend to be deaf to avoid conversations you don't want to hear."

Rangiku would momentarily pause in her efforts to mop the floor, and squint at her, digging at her ears. "SORRY, AYAME-CHAN, WHAT DID YOU SAY? I SAID I CAN'T HEAR YOU."

And Ayame would throw her cleaning rag down and storm off, leaving Rangiku grinning widely in her wake.

Whatever illness it was that Ayame seemed to have been suffering from also seemed to have passed. She was adamant that the vomiting spells which had plagued her were just her stomach adjusting to the inclusion of Rangiku into the cooking roster, reasoning which everyone else could quite easily buy, though which Rangiku herself contested hotly.

"There is no kitchen curse!" she would shout angrily. "You're just picking on me, like you always do!"

Regardless, one morning a little over a month after Rangiku's fight with the shinigami student, Chiyo had taken a long, hard look at Ayame, taking the girl’s jaw in one lined hand and examining her with brow-knitted intensity.

Ayame had gone pale and still, her eyes wide with fear as she suffered Chiyo's scrutiny.

"You've not been looking well lately, Ayame," Chiyo had said, slowly. "It's been too long since you've had a rest, I think. Take the morning to go into town. I have some things I need you to pick up."

Ayame had crumpled then with the release of that strange tension, and relief had filled her eyes.

"Of course," she had said weakly, her eyes darting to the door as she did so. "Thank you, Chiyo-san." She had made to leave as quickly as possible.

"Ayame," Chiyo had called after her serenely. At the sound of Chiyo's voice, Ayame had frozen in place.

To Rangiku, watching on, it had made for an odd spectacle indeed.

"Take Rangiku with you," Chiyo had said pensively. "It wouldn't do for you to take ill on the road on your own."

"Y-" Ayame had cleared her throat nervously. "Yes, Chiyo-san. We’ll leave straight away."

Which was how Rangiku suddenly found herself following Ayame through the streets of the fourteenth district, aching with a sense of sudden, dizzying freedom.

It was only seldom that she left the confines of the Floating Moon, and every time she did, she felt the openness of the sky towering dizzily above her. It was strange, but she never felt imprisoned until she was allowed out into the open, where suddenly she found she could breathe more easily. Today, the air was thick with water vapour and overripe with the potential for a storm.

As she breathed in, she breathed in water; the air felt wet and heavy and it lay on the two as they walked, clinging and soft, like an embrace. The sky was iron dark and gray, but it did little to suppress the energy humming under Rangiku's skin. If anything, the dark shadows on the horizon just made the bright leaves of autumn even more beautiful, and Rangiku more appreciative.

In fourteenth, the district had had the means somewhere down the line to plant decoratively- the elegant palm fan leaved gingko trees were beginning to turn butter yellow and the maple trees were sporting shocks of red and fierce orange. The air painted everything in soft focus, muting and blurring the edges of everything solid until it was as hazy and indistinct as a dream.

As Rangiku walked, she raised her arm up and let her fingertips brush against low-lying leaves the color of the sun rise, and she smiled softly to herself in the descending mist.

The sky was dark- so dark- but everywhere, the world was turning to gold.

I'm going to live beautifully, she thought suddenly.

Even if I have nothing else in the world. Even if I'm abandoned time and time again. Even if everyone says that I'm naïve and empty-headed. I'll live with my head held high and my fingers touching gold, and if I can do that, it will have been a life worth living. There is beauty everywhere for those who care to look, and I'm going to find it.

It was a secret vow she whispered to herself, and she held it close to her chest, tucked next to her heart with all the other small and profound things of which she was comprised- the taste of dried persimmons, abrupt kindness to a fallen enemy, the sound of a party in full swing. She felt warm, suddenly, in spite of the damp chill.

Even in the gray light, Ayame looked healthier, as if even just a morning off was good for her soul.

Rangiku was glad to see it. The past few weeks had given Ayame a wan, thin cast to her face.

"Ayame-chan," she called out happily, "I have money for mochi. Would you like some? We could get some tea to go with it."

It was testament to the heady power of a morning off that Ayame hesitated even for a moment. But in the end, not even a morning's freedom could curb Ayame's natural tendency to always, sensibly, obey the rules.

"We should do Chiyo's chores first, Rangiku-chan," she said, though a note of wistfulness was threaded through her voice. "Maybe once we're done with those though."

"I'm going to buy matcha flavoured mochi," Rangiku announced boisterously. "Matcha mochi, yuzu tea." She paused. "Matcha mochi, yuzu tea, and maybe a new ribbon from the market." She bounced slightly on her heels in giddiness. "Where do we have to go for Chiyo's stuff? What does she need us to get?"

"Lye soap, for laundry; jasmine oil for the bath."

"Do you know where we need to go for those? Where on earth do you buy jasmine oil?" Rangiku asked quizzically.

"Chiyo only ever gets the cheap stuff. There's a florist over on the corner that gives Chiyo a cheap price for her loyalty. That's where we'll go."

The inhabitants of the fourteenth were better heeled than the inhabitants of Rangiku's home district. By no means was anyone rich- certainly not by the standards of Seireitei nobility- but the inhabitants all had shoes, and looked to bathe at least semi-regularly. There were no children with hollow, empty eyes and naked backs here; no curdling stream of filth running through the street. Whores here did not heckle and solicit on street corners, but were obliged by law only to operate within certain areas of the district, over clean waters and arched bridges the colour of saffron.

The women went about with wooden combs in their hair, their healthy bodies draped in cheap cotton yukatas of every colour. It was rare to see a mouth of cracked and calcified teeth, and rarer still to see the pock-marked, poverty-disfigured faces which had been the norm where she came from.

It had been over two years since Rangiku had last felt rain dribbling on her face through a threadbare roof. Over two years since she'd had to bathe in a river. Over two years since she'd had only one stained, ripped and patched yukata to wear.

Sometimes she wondered whether the stains and watermarks of that old life were branded onto her soul, evident for anyone with keen enough sight to see. Would she always walk through busy streets with her fists clenched, ready to swing? Would she always scan dark corners and alleyways for the next attack? Would it show in her manners, in her speech? Was the dirt and shame caked on so thick and deep that she could never be rid of it?

Could everyone see it on her face?

And if they could, did that matter?

She was strong, she was young, she was beautiful. She was moving forward, striding forward. That had to count for something.

(But still, she feared those things burnt on her soul- the fears and the anxieties of abandonment and hunger. She feared them because she knew that they still had a hold on her and moved her in incomprehensible ways, like a magnetic field moves a compass needle. She could gather her things in a sack and walk a thousand miles from that place, but something of it would always be inside her; the fear.)

Here and now, she was indistinguishable from any other person living in the fourteenth district. Her clothes were every bit as clean as theirs. I look as if I was born here. she thought fiercely as she and Ayame walked through the cobbled streets. I fit in here. I’ll smack anyone who says otherwise. There was a rumble of thunder far off.

"Did you feel that?" Ayame asked suddenly. "I think that’s the rain. Did you remember to bring the umbrella?"

"Erm." Rangiku scratched at her head. She had heard that they were to have the morning off and had scrambled excitedly to find her money, like any person with sane, healthy priorities would.

"Rangiku-chan!" Ayame groaned in annoyance.

"Hey!" Rangiku protested hotly. "You have arms! You have legs! Why didn't you bring the umbrella?"

As they were bickering, the sky, thickly filled to saturation with water, finally burst. The rain which dropped fell in fat, heavy droplets which smacked against the ground. Ayame, fussy at the best of times, yelped in shocked outrage.

Rangiku grabbed her by the hand and began to run, overbalancing as she did so.

She only made it a few feet before she felt her arm yank in its socket.

"You're running the wrong way," Ayame shouted, though her voice was drowned out by the rain. Her chestnut coloured hair was stuck to her face with water.

"What?" Rangiku yelled back.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! You're runnin- you're running-" Ayame gave up and grabbed her arm and began to stride in the opposite direction. Rangiku followed blindly, an arm raised above her head to in the hope of some meagre cover.

The florist's was only two streets away, but they were soaked through and breathless by the time they arrived, Rangiku's fumbling with the door adding a good twenty seconds to the time they spent in the rain.

"Great!" Ayame complained, raising her hands in annoyance. "Chiyo gave me the morning off to improve my health, and here I am, soaked through and shivering!" She glared around the shop.

"That's not my fault!" Rangiku protested.

"I didn't say it was!"

"You aimed it in my direction!"

"I know you don't control the weather, Rangiku.” She drew herself up haughtily. “Don't be childish."

Rangiku glared mutinously. "You're not much older than me. I'm sure of it."

The shop assistant coughed politely, a hand as white as porcelain coming up to cover her delicate mouth, but Rangiku was pretty sure she could detect the hint of an amused smile beneath it. Ayame immediately looked mortified; Rangiku continued to shoot daggers at Ayame.

"I am," Ayame tried to smooth her clothes to make herself look a little more dignified, "so sorry about that. We didn't mean to create a scene."

Gin had seemed to make it his life's work to terrorise every shopkeeper he came into contact with. Rangiku hardly thought that raised voices and endless complaining warranted the level of embarrassment that Ayame was displaying.

Color flooded Ayame’s cheeks. "If you don't mind me asking,” she said in a quick bid to move on from the supposed shame of minor public disturbance, “where's Kojima-san? Is she working today? Not we have anything against you-" Ayame added hurriedly- "it's just that she has an understanding with my employer regarding prices, and my employer is very strict about this sort of thing."

There was a quiet, understanding amusement at Ayame's fumbling in the young shop assistant's violet eyes.

"Please don't worry," she said, her voice as soft and sonorous as glass chimes. "Is it the jasmine oil that you're here to purchase? I've been made aware of the arrangement, if so."

"Yes," Ayame said with a sigh of relief. "Yes, that's it. I don't believe we've met before. Have you only just started working here?"

"Six weeks ago," the shop assistant admitted shyly. "I've only just moved here."

"Oh? Did you travel far?”

The shop assistant's ears turned a delicate pink, as if she were about to divulge a shameful secret. "Inuzuri," she murmured, unable to look Ayame in the eyes.

If anyone could understand that feeling, it was Rangiku.

"Shit," she said appreciatively. "That's further than even me, I think, and I lived in the middle of fucking nowhere."

"Rangiku-chan, watch your mouth!" Ayame cried in shock.

"What have I done this time?" Rangiku complained in despair.

The shop assistant laughed then, an awkward, breathy laugh and the flush settled lightly on her cheeks. She looks good laughing, Rangiku thought. Healthier, more alive, more like a person. She smiled to see the woman’s composure waver.

"What's your name, shop assistant from Inuzuri?" she asked warmly.

"Hisana." The woman paused. “Just… Hisana.” No surname, Rangiku noted pityingly. It was not unusual for those from the poorest districts not to have one.

“I’m Rangiku, and this lovely lady,” she draped a clumsy arm over Ayame, “is Ayame.”

There was a short awkward pause whilst Hisana looked them over, during which the drumming noise of the rain filled the shop.

They were soaked, and their thin yukata had done nothing to prevent them from being soaked through to the skin by the weather. A cold, dim light filled the shop, second-hand light filtered through the rain clouds. Rangiku’s tabi squelched in her sandals as she shifted her weight, her chin raised pridefully as Hisana looked them over.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Hisana said formally. She looked at them thoughtfully for a beat. “What perfect names you both have for the setting.”

Ayame wrinkled her delicate nose, but it was Rangiku who explained.

“We get that a lot, in our line of work. Men always think they’re so original.” Rangiku put on a comically gruff, masculine voice. “’’Lovely little flowers. I’d love to pluck your petals,’ and all that rubbish. It makes my skin crawl. What losers. They always think they’re so original as well, the smelly goats.”

Hisana looked confused, but was too polite to pry further into their employment histories. It was, Rangiku figured wryly, probably why she worked at a florist and not behind the bar in a whorehouse.

“The rain is pouring down very heavily,” Hisana noted, “and neither of you seem to have an umbrella. Would you like to stay here while the rain eases off? I could make a pot of tea.” There was a desperate look in her eye.

Ayame looked torn- it was very wet outside, but she was uncomfortable imposing too long on someone else’s kindness.

Rangiku had no such qualms.

“Hisana-chan!” she cried out, tripping over her feet in an effort to take Hisana’s hands in her own. “You’re our very own saviour! Thank you!” She barely paused. “Do you have yuzu flavoured tea?”

“Rangiku-chan!” Ayame scolded.

“What? She offered!”

HIsana shook her head regretfully. “I’m afraid we don’t have any yuzu tea. Only standard green tea.” Anxiety entered her voice. “Will that suffice? Is that alright?” she asked, a slight worry in her eyes.

Ayame nodded firmly. “Pay no attention to Rangiku-chan, that klutz. Green tea would be lovely. Thank you for your kindness.”

Whilst Hisana pottered about making tea in the shop’s backrooms, Rangiku took the time to look closely at the wares.

Autumn was just beginning to set in, and the shop had wild bunches of the last of the summer cosmos on display, tied with string, pink and yellow and orange, childishly bright. The elegant, slender petaled chrysanthemum flower that was her namesake was also on display in singles and doubles, and she bent her head down to smell them, her nose filling with their green, aqueous smell. It was usually the second to last flower to bloom in the year. There had been no chrysanthemums growing where she had grown up, and she had scarcely known that she was named for a flower. It wasn’t until Yuki had offered to make her a cup of chrysanthemum tea that she had learned that fact.

As she cast her eyes around, they landed finally on a familiar sight, a scarlet nest of spindly protrusions, grown from a bulb, fierce and scarlet and beautiful.

Her eyes went wide.

He had been full of happy impatience, that day; all smiles and nervous movements. He had wanted to give it to her, that patch of ground, had wanted to make a present of it. She had not known at the time, but it had been his way of saying this is your home, this garden is mine but it is yours too, put something of yourself into it so that you can know that it belongs to you, that you built something here with me, that we were here together. "This spot is for ya'.” He had said. “Grow whatever ya' want here- onions, scallions, garlic, cress, cabbage. Whatever ya' want."

“Here. Give them to me. I'll carry 'em for ya’."

"They're pretty. This was a good idea ya' had. I wonder what these are?"

“The fox is having his wedding…”

He had given her a spot of her own in the garden in which to grow whatever she’d wanted, and she had wanted flowers. She had raced to the river and dug the flowers out of the riverbed with her bare hands, carrying them back bulb and all.

She had greeted him with mud on her face and arms full of spider lilies, and he had pronounced them beautiful.

He had barely looked at the flowers. She had thought that he must have been lying, just to appease her.

They were the first thing that they had put in the flower bed, and her spider lilies had returned every year after, as constant and steadfast as the rain. They had always bloomed for his birthday, and for hers too, thriving brightly as the world around them was beginning to decay.

It had been so long since she had seen them, and her heart ached all of a sudden for a ramshackle garden and a rundown house, for happy summer days, and for a boy made of smiles and silver, all so far away.

Hisana had returned with the pot of tea, and she poured a cup for each of them. In the damp autumn chill, the steam from the tea condensed quickly, spiralling and smoking in the air.

I need to have one, she thought. She burned with it, suddenly, the need to have some reminder, some memento, some thing that could tie her present to her past, something to convince her that it had been real.

(Because it had been real. Hadn’t it?)

(Hadn’t it?)

“Hisana?” Rangiku asked abruptly. “How much is it for one of these?”

Hisana’s hands flew to her mouth as if she had sparked off a catastrophe.

“Oh,” she said gravely. “I didn’t realise. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Rangiku’s face contorted in confusion.  “Huh?” she asked, her mouth a small ‘o’.

Hisana took her hand gently. “You’ve not lost someone?”

Rangiku blinked. “No…?” She laughed loudly, retracting her hand to thread it nervously through her hair.

“Oh. Then I’m sorry. The higanbana is not a pleasant flower,” Hisana said in a small voice. “We only stock them for O-Higan, so that people might commemorate their loved ones who have passed on.”

Rangiku was silent, her brow wrinkled.

Ayame looked at her gently. “They’re flowers for the dead, Rangiku-chan,” she said. “People put them near graves, so that vermin won’t get at the bodies.”

“I didn’t know that,” Rangiku said quietly, a strange despair curling in her belly. “I always just thought that they were pretty.”

Hisana was a kind soul, and she rallied quickly to try and brighten Rangiku’s spirits.

“They are very pretty, and they do look interesting. There aren’t many flowers that look like a spider lily, and not many flowers at all grow so late in the year. And there are so many stories about them. They’re interesting flowers really.” She smiled enthusiastically.

Ayame was contemplative. 

“They say that once upon a time, the flower was the most sacred flower of all,” she said pensively. “Two spirits were commanded to guard the plant. One guarded the leaves, and the other the flower. But the tragedy was the leaves and the flower can never grow at the same time, so the spirits could never see each other.

But the spirits fell in love anyway, though the stories never tell that part. They decided to run away together, to become everything to one another, defying every law of the gods in the process. The gods raged at their disobedience, as all gods do, drunk and violent in their power, and they decided to punish the lovers for their insolence, for daring to abandon their god-demanded duty.

They would never meet again for all eternity, and never will, not until every star in the sky blackens and sputters out. Not until the sun and moon embrace each other in the sky without covering one another up. Not even then. They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again will still see higanbana growing along their path to this day, because of those two spirits. Red spider lilies.”

Rangiku’s expression must have been strange, because Hisana took her hand gently and looked her in the eyes earnestly.

“They’re just stories, Rangiku-kun,” she said kindly. “It is also said that the higanbana light the way to the next life, for what that’s worth. So they’re not all bad. You shouldn’t let stories get in the way of a pretty thing. If you want one, you should buy one.”

But something of the melancholy of the story had worked its way deep into her heart, and she felt like an empty-headed fool all of a sudden to have liked them so openly and enthusiastically.

Knowing the sad truth behind the lovely scarlet flowers, she was certain that she would never be able to look at them in the same way ever again. Joy in their beauty and all of her fond, sun-lit memories would be tinged forever now with a streak of sadness, like a line of spilled blue ink.

She could not stand the sight of them.

Outside, the drumming of the rain was beginning to slow.

She laughed a bright, fragile laugh, but it sounded a little hollow even to her own ears.

"No, no," she said, "I wouldn't want something as depressing as that in my room, Hisana-chan. Only pink cosmos for me from now on. You've done me a favor in any case, because I was going to spend my money on mochi, not flowers." She grasped around desperately for a change in subject, so that the two women would stop giving her such pitying looks. "Good job that your boss isn't here! What would she think of Hisana actively stopping her customers from buying flowers, eh?"

When she laughed this time, it was more genuine.

Hisana blanched in anxiety.

"It's okay, it's okay," Rangiku said smiling, and sipped at her tea. "We won't tell if you don't."

Ayame glared daggers at Rangiku, who pulled a face at her in return. "When does O-higan start this year, Hisana-san?" she asked, kindly changing the topic for Hisana.

"Tomorrow, actually. It's a little bit later this year, apparently. O-higan follows the movement of the sun, or something like that," Hisana paused thoughtfully. "Or at least, that's what I've heard. It will end on the 29th though."

"Due to the nature of our, ah, work, it's very easy to lose track of time. Days and nights kind of all blur together. September already..." She trailed off suddenly into a fraught silence, looking unsettled, like the end of September heralded a death sentence.

Rangiku had other concerns.

"It's only a week until my birthday!" Rangiku yelped.

Hisana looked very confused.

"I do not know your line of work," she said politely, "but do you not have calendars there?" The question seemed genuine, but Rangiku pointed her finger at her all the same.

"Ayame-chan! Look at this! Hisana-chan has only known us for forty minutes, and she's already giving us sass about our inability to keep track of time. She knows us both so well already!"

Hisana looked shocked, but it only lasted a moment before she broke into a delicate, tinkling laugh. "I don't quite know how to respond to that. Happy birthday then, if I'm not fortunate enough to see you again before next week."

Ayame stood abruptly. "We should go, Rangiku-chan. We have chores to do, and the rain has eased off," she said shortly, her expression stormy.

"Eh? But I was having fun talking " Rangiku complained.

"We shouldn't infringe too long on Hisana-san's hospitality. We're keeping her from her job."

Rangiku was about to protest that the shop was empty, and likely to be empty for the rest of the morning, with the weather being as bad as it was, but she stopped herself when she caught sight of Ayame's troubled features. Her eyes narrowed.

"Okay," she nodded quietly. "Let's go."

If Hisana found their sudden departure rude or unexpected, it did not show on her smooth, polite face. "Don't forget the jasmine oil you ordered," she reminded them courteously.

Ayame looked at her. "Thank you. I might have, had you not reminded me." She paused, and her expression softened slightly. "Thank you so much for giving us shelter from the storm, and for the tea you made us. You didn't need to do that. Kindness is rare, even here. We appreciate it."

Hisana smiled sadly. "I've not met many people since I've moved here.” She ringed her delicate, pale wrists with her hands anxiously. “I left everyo- thing behind in Inuzuri. I spend most of my days here, in the shop, alone. It was nice just to have someone to talk with."

"Then I'll definitely come again when I next have a morning free," Rangiku vowed. Ayame gave her a sharp look, and she swiftly moved to correct her.

"Rangiku-chan doesn't get many mornings off, so that might be difficult," she said smoothly. "But I do. I'll definitely visit."

Rangiku was puzzled, but said nothing. They made their farewells, and left soon after.

As they turned the corner, Rangiku craned her neck to look back. Hisana sat behind the counter, alone. Her pale fingers played slowly with the petals of the spider lily.

It made for a sad picture.

The rain had stopped, but the cobbles on the street were slick with rainwater.

Gigantic puddles stretched across the street and captured the sky in their flat, reflective surfaces. It seemed to Rangiku that there was a second sky right at her feet, that she was walking above it, and that with every step, she might fall through the clouds. It was a dizzying, vertiginous feeling, like standing on the precipice and preparing to let herself fall. Her heart beat an odd, syncopated rhythm against her ribcage, and she could feel her pulse in her neck, and it made her feel slightly sick. A strange sense of unease settled over her.

They walked in silence, Ayame's face tight with some unspoken emotion, Rangiku's eyes downcast.

They bought the lye soap Chiyo requested, and stopped at a market stall so that Rangiku could buy her mochi, but by the time it was time for her to order, she had changed her mind and decided to buy herself hanami dango instead. It was almost time for them to be returning to the Floating Moon, and she figured that it would be more easy to eat dango as they walked across the bridge to get home.

Home.

She was just starting to eat the red bean dango, when Ayame stopped abruptly in front of her. Rangiku was so absorbed in eating that she walked barged into Ayame's back.

Her eyes flashed in irritation. "Hey!" she hissed, outraged. "Don't just stop in the middle of the road! I could have dropped my dango, and then we would have had to go back so that I could buy more." She pouted childishly.

Ayame closed her eyes and inhaled as if trying to reign in her temper. She exhaled steadily, and when she opened her eyes again, she said:

"You and I need to talk. Properly this time. No stupid games."

"I've not done anything wrong," Rangiku insisted immediately.

"No,” she said. “No you haven't. But you're making a huge mistake, Rangiku-chan."

Rangiku looked up from her dango and gave Ayame her full attention. "Hm?" she said, taking a bite.

"You're making a mistake." Ayame repeated quietly.

"What do you mean?" Something twisted nervously inside her at Ayame's tone of voice.

"Why are you here?"

Rangiku didn't understand.

"I work here.”

“No, Rangiku. You know what I mean.”

She didn’t.

“I need to eat, and this job's better than the alternatives,” Rangiku protested weakly. “And anyway, I like it. I like being around you, and Yuki-san, and Sayaka-chan, and Rin-san, and everyone else. I like being useful." To Rangiku, it was simple. She needed to eat, yes, but more than that, much stronger still, though she would never tell Ayame, she knew that she would sooner die than be alone again.

"Rangiku..."

Ayame sighed. Something in her seemed to crumple in on itself then, as if some iron pillar in her had collapsed under an immense weight. She looked Rangiku straight in the eyes, and her brown eyes were bright and almost desperate. Rangiku stared into them uncomprehending, and she tried to smile, to get Ayame to smile with her, but it was no use. Her gaze was almost too uncomfortable to bear.

"Not everyone is as lucky as you," Ayame gritted out. "Not everyone gets a choice. How do you think Yuki got started? She was thrown out of her house because she was found kissing girls, and had nowhere else to go. Sayaka? Sayaka was hooked on drugs when she was too young and trusting to know any better. Rin? Fled a marriage to a prosperous man who nearly killed her. She still has the scars on her back. Rangiku-" Ayame's voice caught in her throat, "don't make the mistake of glamorizing this. All of us were desperate. None of us had a choice. Maybe there are some girls out there who are lucky enough to have a say in whether they do this or not, and frankly, more power to them if they do. But never forget for a moment- for most of us, there is no choice, and there never has been."

Rangiku breath caught in her throat. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked weakly.

"Do you know how many of us get our start? We're sold into it. That's how it was for me, and that's normal." Ayame swallowed. "I've only just paid off my starting debt. I could leave, but there's no other way I'd be able to make money, so I'd just find myself back where I started, on the street. Girls like me- we’re trapped." She paused, and when she spoke, her voice was thick. "But you're not. You could leave today if you wanted. You could leave now. You've got power. You've got prospects. Why don't you understand? Why won’t you leave?"

Rangiku could feel a kind of hot shame curling in her chest. Her voice wavered when she spoke. "But who would keep you safe?" she said, her hands balling up in her yukata. "You need me." She was certain of that. "I keep you safe. You need me."

The look Ayame gave her was unspeakably soft.

Her words were not.

"We don't need you," she said gently. "We were alright before you came, and we'll be alright after you're gone." She paused, and when she repeated herself, she sounded so thoroughly matter of fact that Rangiku wanted to cry. “We don’t need you at all.”

Her cheeks were suddenly wet, and her dango felt sticky against her hand, but she barely noticed.

It's happening again, Rangiku thought dully. Why? Why does this always happen?

She had made this, this small thing for herself, this space of shared jokes and shared nights; she had folded herself inside it, had made herself indispensable to it in the hope that she would not ever have to suffer loneliness again. It was her sandcastle, standing small and proud on the shoreline, the work of childish hands and clumsy labour, and she had smiled to see it, to know that it was hers and hers alone.

But the tide was coming in. There was one truth for her, though never for anyone else it seemed: there could be no security anywhere in the world. Just this: the futile effort of building, building, building, just to see it all swept away in the end.

"That's the truth," Ayame said and her voice cracked. "We don’t need you. You'd never have to see any of the awful things you see regularly here ever again. Do you think it's healthy? To be responsible for the safety of so many people at your age? To have seen the things you've seen?"

Rangiku cheeks burned. Her mind replayed Ayame's words over and over again on repeat; we don't need you.

"Rangiku," Ayame said, her voice low and urgent. "Do you really think Chiyo is content to let someone like you sit around playing barmaid when you could be making her money? When I'm gone, the first thing she'll do is coerce you into whoring yourself out for her in my place. I'm on your side, and I will be even when no one else is- you have to listen to me."

It was this which snapped her attention back to Ayame.

"What do you mean, 'When I'm gone'?" she asked, her voice small and tremulous.

But Ayame was tight-lipped and would not say anymore.

"There is a place for you. Out there, behind those pale stone walls. The new term starts in January. If you aren't there, in that stupid uniform, when it starts-" her voice came out of her throat almost like a sob "-then I'll kick your ass into next Tuesday. I swear it. I will. I don’t have powers, but I’ll do it."

Rangiku was dazed. It felt as if the entire world had tilted sideways, like she had stepped through the clouds and she was falling through space.

"What is happening...?" she mumbled to herself in horrified wonder.

Behind gray clouds, the sun was beginning to dip below the skyline, and the shadows of the golden leaved gingkos and fire-garbed maple trees were beginning to crawl and lengthen over the cobbled street. What little sunlight was to be found played idly on the slow eddies of the river below.

She watched Ayame looked up at the sky, her expression unreadable.

How fragile, this life. How easily it crumbles apart.

Ayame sighed. Ragiku watched her as she readjusted her yukata neatly, as fastidious as ever.

"We'd best get back," she said with distantly. “The gong will be sounding soon.”

She walked ahead, and Rangiku watched her as her green-clad back got smaller and smaller , before finally disappearing around a corner.

Rangiku looked helplessly at the dango in her hand. Her hands were sticky, like a child’s.

With a heavy sigh, she lobbed the stick into the air.

It tumbled several inelegant somersaults before splashing into the water below. She was no longer hungry. She felt sick.

[thranduilsperkybutt]

Gif source:  1  |  2  |  3

Series Masterlist

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Reader; Sam Winchester/Reader

Warnings:  Some cursing. Lengthy exposition. Nothing else, really.

Word Count: 3,982 words

Reader Gender:  Female

Author: Meg

Summary:  You bring Charlie up to speed on things and learn a little more about Sam from a colleague. Car trouble causes delays but a handsome stranger swoops in and saves the day. [While You Were Sleeping AU, Coffee-Shop!AU? — I’m playing fast and loose with the plot.]

A/N:  Ayyyy! Here’s part two! So this slow-burn is going slower than I planned, but I’ve got a lot of ideas! Next chapter things are going to start to heat up between Dean/Reader and I plan on going into some more detail on both of their pasts! Hope y’all keep enjoying!

|  Part 2  |  Long Road Home

“You told them what?”

“Shh!” you hiss quickly, glancing around the shop to make sure none of the patrons had been too disturbed by Charlie’s startled shout. Charlie, on the other hand, hardly seemed worried about the few curious eyes her outburst had drawn, too occupied with gaping at you in disbelief to notice. You couldn’t blame her; not after the story you filled her in on over the course of the morning, “I know, I know! All I wanted to do was make sure he was okay, but everything just snowballed out of control!”

“A snowball would be an understatement! You’re like Indiana Jones in Raiders, and the giant boulder that’s chasing you is the web of lies you’re weaving!” Charlie waves her hands at you dramatically, but there was a teasing tone in her voice, “You’re so doomed!”

“Thanks,” you comment sarcastically, “that’s really what I needed to hear right now, with the family dinner right around the corner. You’re a big help, Charlie.”

Leaning on the counter top, you’re thankful the Coffee House’s morning rush had decided to settle down with the nearing of noon, making it easier to finally have this talk with your friend. The night of the accident, the best you could do upon arriving home was to crash on your bed, your exhaustion taking all the wind out of you. But in the light of day, you found yourself seriously in need of Charlie’s insight on the situation, despite her reputation for brutal honesty or her lack of viable relationship advice. With her having gone to her class yesterday, you hadn’t seen her at work, and this was a conversation best had face-to-face.

“You know, you’re probably right,” reaching to take a sip of ice water from the Yeti you bought yourself this Christmas, a heavy sigh escapes you, “Maybe I should just back out of it. Come up with an excuse not to go---”

“Oh, no you don’t! You have to go to it,” Charlie interrupts, nearly making you choke on your water as her features smooth with her seriousness. She tugs her hair out of its falling messy ponytail, letting the fiery tendrils drape across her shoulders for an instant as she pops the band around her wrist.

“What? I thought I was ‘doomed,’ remember? Your words, not mine,” quoting her in the air with your index and middle fingers, you fix her with a skeptical brow. What’s with the sudden one-eighty? She was going to give you whiplash at this rate.

“Oh, you are still totally doomed, my dude,” she breaks into a teasing grin, pulling her hair back up to fix it into a, hopefully sturdier, bun, “but this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in the past three years I’ve known you! I’ve gotta’ see how it turns out. Nothing exciting ever happens to you!”

“Wow, Char,” rolling your eyes, you scoff. “Glad to know this is at least amusing for you! Meanwhile, I’ll just completely wallow in my own guilt about living a lie! His family--- they’re so nice to me. They wanted to know how we met, what made me know he was the one, and all I could say was that his eyes were kind. I don’t deserve how nice they are.”

“Okay, fine! If you won’t listen to me, listen to… Cas!” she calls, drawing him to look up from where he was currently in the midst of restocking the blueberry muffins, “Cas, please tell (Y/N) that she should go to her fake-fiancé’s family dinner!”

“Don’t drag Cas into this,” the protest does nothing to quell her enthusiasm. You can see it in her eyes, she was nowhere through with trying to convince you to go.

Cas’ dark brows draw together in confusion beneath the Charlie’s Coffee House cap he wore, before he decides it’s better to not question her too much, and fixates his sapphire eyes on you, “You should go to your fake-fiancé’s family dinner.”

In all honesty, you didn’t need much convincing to go. Somewhere buried beneath the rational side of you who knew there was something morally wrong with lying to Sam’s family more than you already had, was a desperate want to experience a family dinner. You ached to have at least one day’s worth of the simple family gathering you never got to have. Living your life with an estranged family was better than being around them, but it still hurt that you could never experience the things that normal families got to. Gathering around a dinner table always seemed just barely out of your family’s reach, each Christmas or Thanksgiving being filled with some sort of drama or falling-out. The dysfunctional circular motions your family went in each year resulted in your slow drift away from them, until it culminated in this year, when you hadn’t even received so much as a phone call on Christmas.

As one last-ditch effort to talk yourself out of it and listen to the morally-correct angel clinging onto your shoulder by a thread, you murmur, “I should tell them I’m not his fiancée. Ripping the band-aid off sooner is better than later, right?”

While you had expected Charlie to start in on you, it’s Cas that pulls your listening ear back to him, “While I did not catch all of your story, (Y/N), I believe I’ve heard enough to have a grasp on the situation you find yourself in. From my perspective, I don’t think you should tell your fake-fiancée’s family the truth right now.”

“Someone pinch me! Did the saint just tell you to lie?” Charlie quips, making Cas’ shoot her a mildly annoyed glare at her teasing nickname for him.

“All I’m saying is, what good would come from it? Think about it,” Cas begins, leaning beside you on the counter as he tries to make his point clear, “if you do tell them, yes, they most likely would be upset, but they also are having to handle their son’s accident, too. Do you really think it is the time to give them the truth? It’s a mercy to keep it to yourself, at least for now.”

“What happens when Sam wakes up, though? It’s going to be even worse, then, if I don’t come clean now,” you worry your bottom lip with your teeth, feeling quite stuck between a rock and a hard place. It seemed that whatever you did, the end result left you hurting them, and admitting the embarrassing truth that you’d lied, regardless of what your initial intentions were.

What was the saying? The road to hell is paved with good intentions. You never quite put too much thought into the phrase until right now.

“When Sam does wake up, at least that is one less thing they have to worry about,” he offers.

“Our friendly neighborhood saint has a point,” Charlie hums, gripping Cas’ shoulder in her own proud approval. “Maybe you should put it off until Sam’s back up and running. At least they won’t have to worry about you and Sam at the same time.”

“Ugh, I hate to say that you two are probably right,” you groan, rubbing your temples, “how did I get myself into this mess?”

“You told a fib,” it comes out jokingly, but all it makes you want to do is smack her for it. Luckily, you’re saved from the conversation by a vibrating in your back pocket. Pointing up your index finger in the universal gesture for them to hold on a second, you pull the phone from your pocket, not recognizing the name there.

Arthur Ketch, it announced.

“Huh,” you huff, debating whether you should even answer the call. It wasn’t even your phone, it was Sam’s. You had just been toting it around in case it got a call, but you hadn’t actually thought you would be on the receiving end of one, as Sam was in the hospital.

“Did you purchase a new phone?” Cas wonders, but you shake your head.

“No, it’s… Sam’s,” the admission earns a scandalized gasp from Charlie, and you quickly explain, “The hospital gave me his stuff! I’m the fiancée, remember?” Finally deciding it could be something important, you move away from the two of them, if only for the space to breathe that the distance provided. Swiping to answer, you lift the cell to your ear and motion for them to be quiet, “Hello? This is Sam’s phone.”

“Uhm, hello,” the man’s voice was accented, but curious, as he drawled through the crackly reception of the phone, “To whom am I speaking?”

“This is (Y/N), I’m… taking Sam’s calls while he’s in the hospital. Would you like to leave a message?”

“In the hospital? My goodness, so that explains why he hasn’t called in to the office! What’s he gone and done to himself this time?”

“He was hit by a car on Wednesday,” you reply, choosing the blunt approach. “He’s in a coma right now, but the doctors think he’s doing better. Sorry--- you said ‘the office?’ Are you from Sam’s work?”

“Ah, yes. My apologies. This is Arthur Ketch of MacLeod and Associates. I was calling to see why Sam had neglected work, but I dare say this is quite a valid excuse for not showing up, or giving a call-in, for that matter,” Arthur chuckled in his own amusement, before adding. “Which hospital did you say he was in, again?”

“I didn’t, actually, but he’s at Lawrence Memorial,” you wondered if your frown was audible through the phone. This guy didn’t even sound too upset at the news that Sam was in the hospital, as if this were just another business phone call. Freakin’ lawyers.

“We’re very sorry to hear that. I will definitely pass on the news to our partners. Of course, we wish Sam will get well soon,” he pauses, before adding, “He is one of our best attorneys, after all. But, it can’t be helped. Please, be certain to send our sympathies to his family. It is truly bad luck after the last accident.”

“The… last accident?” you press, only to hear Arthur click his tongue in response.

“It isn’t my place to say…”

“I’m sure the doctors would want to know about it,” a bit worried now, you wondered how Sam could have been hurt before. It could really be some information the doctors needed to know! It wasn’t as if his family knew a thing about him, it seemed.

“Well, I suppose you’re right.”

While Charlie was spending her Friday night on a much-anticipated date with her online friend Ruthy, who she had spent the last three months gushing to you about, you had a date of your own at the hospital.

Your Jeep had other ideas, though.

“Damn it,” you growl, kicking angrily at the tire that was comically flat, as if just for God to laugh at you. “Just had to ignore that repair, didn’t you, (Y/N)?” The nail that you’d been avoiding paying to have fixed until payday had finally taken its toll, when your tire had blown on the highway. Really, you were lucky you didn’t wreck when you felt the threatening thump-thump-thump of your rim on asphalt, but sitting at the side of the road, all you could do was blame yourself for this.

The sun was already low in the sky, and in another hour sunset would settle into nightfall. The last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road with a spare you couldn’t even put on because your damn lug-nuts were on too tight for you to be able to get off. With a defeated sigh, you crouch back down to take up the lug wrench once again, in the hopes that maybe third time's the charm and you find some strength you hadn’t had before.

You’re in the middle of struggling with it, a slew of grumbled profanities slipping from you, when the low rumble of an engine draws closer in the distance. Your attention isn’t drawn from your own work until you hear the car pull off the road, and you find the driver stopping a little behind your Jeep, blinding you slightly with the circular headlights and drawing your hand up to shield your eyes.

For a moment, your heart skips with icy adrenaline. You’d seen enough horror movies to know where this could go.

When the lights turn off, you blink away your blindness, the spots in your vision resolving just as the driver’s door opens and a man steps out, calling to you, “You need some help over there, princess?”

He was tall, with short hair that bordered on a buzz in the back, and stubble trailing along his jaw. His smile was warm, though, blindingly white teeth parting his plump lips. A leather jacket framed his broad shoulders, with a flannel layered beneath it, nearly covering the Henley that peeked from below.

But it was the car that caught your eye next. All black and sleek and something right out of a period piece set in the sixties. It was a car that was cared for--- fawned over--- that much was apparent.

Hell, it looked better than the old and slightly rusted ‘95 Jeep you bought off your uncle back in the day for two grand before leaving town, and was probably twice the age. At least. You were guessing it was a Chevy.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” you respond cautiously, after weighing your options. No way were you getting these lugs off by yourself, “Just having a hard time with the lug-nuts, is all.”

“Hey, leave it to me. I gotta’ impact wrench in my trunk, it’ll be better than that old thing you’re using,” you hadn’t thought his smile could get wider, but you caught a glimpse of it before he turned to move to his trunk, popping it and rummaging around. Your watch never left him, not wanting to turn your back on a stranger on the side of the highway.

It had absolutely nothing to do with how attractive he was. Yeah, nothing at all to do with that.

It doesn’t take him all that long to fish the wrench from his trunk, which he shakes a bit in his hand at you as if he’s discovered a treasure, before he makes his way on over. When he comes closer, you notice his eyes are green, right before he leans down towards your tire.

“I appreciate it,” you begin, but he just waves you off, taking the lugs off as if you hadn’t been struggling for the last thirty minutes with the damned things. You might just need to get yourself a wrench like the one he had, if you could save up enough.

“Don’t mention it. These things can be a bitch to get off with the manual wrenches, especially if they were tightened in a shop,” he sighs, making quick work of the flat and replacing it with your spare as you put the now-ruined tire in your cargo. By the time you come back around to the side of your car, he’s already lowering the jack, seemingly finished.

“There, should get you home now,” and he was grinning at you again.

“You have no idea what a life saver you are,” you sigh gratefully, but feeling a little guilty for taking up this kind stranger’s time, “I’d pay you for your time, but all I’ve got is like five bucks in cash and a gift card to Charlie’s Coffee House on me.”

He laughs at that, “Don’t worry about it. Just call it helping a damsel in distress.” With a playful wink, he moves around you to head back to his car, leaving you with the jack and repaired tire.

Still, you call after him, offering a wave as you climb back into your Jeep, “Thanks, stranger!”

Albeit a little later than you intended, you eventually arrived at the hospital to hand off the information you learned that morning from Arthur Ketch. Telling yourself you were there to pass on the info wasn’t enough to deny the fact that you didn’t want to go back to your empty house just yet. You could have turned around and went home as soon as you finished your conversation with the nurse, but instead you lingered, moving to Sam’s bedside.

“Hey,” you murmur low, almost half-hoping for an answer that doesn’t come, your only response his steady breathing, “do you mind if I sit?” With the chair comes a contented sigh, the ache in your heels subsiding just a bit as you finally get off your feet for the day. With a sigh, you murmur, “You won’t believe the day I’ve had.” Looking around the hospital room, you notice the things that hadn’t been there the day before.

There were flowers, an assortment of daisies in all different hues, along with the Get Well Soon cards that Jo had littered the windowsill with. A militarian-looking duffel bag was in the corner of the room, left by John, stuffed full of an extra set of clothes as if Sam could wake up at any moment and walk out of here. A tug in your heart reminded you how you wished he would, not just for his own sake, but for theirs.

“They love you,” a soft smile comes to your lips. “Mary misses you, more than from just this... I can tell.” Looking back to Sam, you sigh, “I’m sorry I roped you into this whole, engagement thing, but I couldn’t tell them I wasn’t really getting married to you. They let me in, and I can’t bring myself to tell them different.” Your hands fidget with your bag as you dangle it between your knees, your elbows resting on your thighs as you lean towards him, “I know it’s probably selfish, but I’m going to go to the family dinner, Sam. I don’t expect you to wake up and fall madly in love with me at first sight or anything--- I’m not going to ever be a perfect model girlfriend, like I’m absolutely positive you’ve had in the past--- no matter how awesome it would be to feel wanted like that, and if it was by you, that would be amazing, because the more and more I hear about you, the more amazing you apparently are. I know you’ll wake up and I’ll have to go on with my life. I know I’m going to have to let them go, but I just…” you huff out a chuckle, but there’s no humor behind it, “I don’t want to be alone for once, you know? I just want to have this one dinner, okay? Is that really so bad?”

Of course, Sam doesn’t answer. He just breathes steadily. He could have tricked you into thinking he was sleeping, if it weren’t for the hospital gown and the beeping of the monitors in the background.

Pursing your lips, you add dryly, reaching to brush his hair out of his face, “You’re a pretty good listener. Thanks, Sam.”

With a sigh, you will a smile onto your face, “Hey, on a lighter note, I got you something.” You fish through your back, pulling out the small, stuffed bear who proudly wore a tiny Lawrence Memorial shirt and had Feel Better embroidered on its left paw. It brings an embarrassed chuckle from you, “The gift shop is lined with rows of these things, but I think this one’s the cutest.” You sit it on the bedside table, making sure the bear can sit upright on its own before letting it go.

Dean’s anger was tempered just enough by the time he got to the hospital that he wasn’t entirely steaming as the elevator let him off at the floor his brother was apparently on.

“You needed to be focused on finishing the job. It’s not like you could have finished in Chicago any faster.”

Yeah, well, he could have damn well tried if he’d known something like this had happened. Dean would have dropped everything, job be damned. But he didn’t want to fight with his dad right now. Right now, Dean wanted to see his little brother.

Frustration and worry matched themselves in equal strides as he moved towards the nurse’s station, catching the eye of a plump woman with latte hued skin as he leaned over the counter to ask her softly for directions to his room.

“Oh, he’s in three-oh-eight, right over there on the left,” the nurse points out to him the room, drawing his eye to spot the glass-lined room. Dean’s about to thank her and head over, when she adds, “Just knock before you go in.”

“Wait--- I thought Sam was in a coma?” Dean raises a brow.

“So you don’t startle the fiancée,” she explains, looking with pity towards the room, “Poor thing comes by every night to check on him.”

Dean does a good job of hiding his shock. Keeping the emotion simmering beneath the surface. The most she gets is his widened eyes, though they turn towards the room quickly enough.

“Thanks for the tip.”

Dean maneuvers around another nurse wheeling a vitals machine as he makes his way to the door, peering through the window as inconspicuously as possible to catch sight of the fiancée he hadn’t known Sam had.

Her back was to him, seated in a chair as she leaned a bit on the edge of Sam’s bedside. Her fingers fiddled with a teddybear on the nightstand, trying to keep it from falling over before she could be satisfied with leaving it alone. A hint of recognition flashes through him as he stares at her, before moving to open the door without a knock.

The sound of the door opening draws your attention, and instinctively you move away from the bedside in case it was a doctor or nurse who needed to get to Sam, only for your eyes to find someone entirely different.

“It is you,” comes from the man in the doorway, who looked on at you with an incredulous look in his green eyes.

It was the guy who fixed your tire.

“Y-You! What are you doing here!” you stood, immediately on edge, your mind rushing back to the worst-case, horror-movie scenario, “Did you follow me?!”

“What?” his nose wrinkles up at the accusation, rolling his eyes, “No! I’m not some freakin’ creep who goes around stalking chicks who have flat tires on the freeway. Sam’s my brother!”

You weren’t as good at hiding your shock, your mouth parting slightly at the news, as your finger pointed at him warily, “So you’re Dean, then?”

“Now you’re on the right track, princess,” he sighs, before his eyes widen a fraction at himself and his hand comes to rub the back of his neck nervously, “Eh, I mean--- Guess it’s about time I learned your name, huh?”

“Oh! Yeah. Right,” you stammer, before offering it and an apology, “Sorry.”

“Well,” Dean frowns, glancing to Sam as he moves to the side of the bed, reaching out to give his brother’s hand a squeeze, “wish we met under better circumstances.” Dean’s eyes find yours again, studying you as you stood there awkwardly, as if trying to figure something out in his mind, before speaking, “So… you’re Sam’s fianceé, huh?” He said it like he already knew the answer, but just wanted to hear it confirmed from you for himself.

Heat burns at the back of your mind as you stammer out your lie, poorly, “Y-Yep. That’s me.”

Dean must take your nervousness for something else, because he just shakes his head with a sad sounding sigh, “I can get why he wouldn’t want to tell everyone all at once, but… I just can’t believe he didn’t tell me about you, though.”

[christinky]

Help | Part 9

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | DONE!

Summary: They have rescued you, its going to be hard. Two years of pain of being under hydra did a toll on you. (Y/N) has to decide what she has to do next.

Pairing: Dad!Tony x Stark!Reader (by this point you should know the relationships)

Warnings: Crying? PTSD Symptoms? Maybe? I say bad words. 

A/N: This one is almost 3.3k guys. Its the last chapter in the series, thank you to everyone who read it. I had a fun time writing it. Please let me know what you all thought! I may write one shots with this as the backstory too as kinda a continuation. 

You slowly start to open your eyes; the light starts to peak through the crack between your eye lids. Still in a daze, you can feel your entire body aching. You decide to rest longer, not moving so no one can know you are awake. You are confused, you are more comfortable than normal and it’s brighter than usual. Suddenly, you remember what happened. You jerk awake, sitting up in a panic. Trying to wrap your heads around the memories of the events that happened, not being able to remember how it ended. You look around, your breathing is heavy, heart is pounding. You recognize this place, this isn’t the room that Hydra kept you in. No, this is your bedroom.

You try to calm your breathing, calm down, you are home, Hydra isn’t controlling you. You are safe. Even though you are safe at home, you can’t seem to feel relieved. You are still nervous, scared, you feel guilty for everything. You fought your friends, you hurt them, you got kidnaped, you made them all worry about you. Your stomach starts doing flips, it’s a waiting game, knowing someone will walk in at any moment. F.R.I.D.A.Y probably alerted them when you woke up. Sooner or later you are going to have to face them all again. It sucks, even though you weren’t in control of your actions, you had no say in the matter, the memories of everything are still there. You are forced to remember everything you have done to them.

After sitting in silence for a few minutes, worrying about when someone will walk in and trying to get your thoughts together, there is a quiet knock at the door. Your heart stops. You start preparing yourself for who will be walking in. In your heart, you know exactly who it is, everything in you knows your dad is about to walk in, the real question is if someone will be with him. The door knob starts to turn, the door slowly creeks open. Once there is enough room a head pops in, it is your dad.

Instantly, his eyes light up at the sight of you. He walks in keeping his composure, he is calm and gentle. Making sure not to startle you and make sure you are comfortable. However, you look like a deer in headlights, not really knowing what to do. “Hey kiddo” His voice is soft and gentle and she shuts the door behind him, “Everything is okay, don’t worry. You are okay now.”

You remain silent, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around your legs. Your dad walks over, he sits at the end of your bed. Making sure to keep his distance until he can see your reaction, make sure the transition is smooth for you. He turns to you, you can see the worry in his eyes, looking at you as if you are broken. Noticing the way he looks, it makes you feel bad. Thinking of what he must have gone through, he doesn’t deserve this. You remember the look on his face when you were fighting them, remembering how he never gave up, how hard he fought to get you back. The guilt starts to overwhelm you, staying strong you hold it inside so he doesn’t see your breakdown.

“Can I get you anything?” Your dad breaks the silence in the room, you shake your head, looking down at the blanket to avoid eye contact, “Do you want to talk at all? It can help you?”

You stay quiet, focusing on the pattern of the blanket. “Or I can give you some more time, I can come back later.” His tone has gotten sadder, you can tell he isn’t trying to push you, just trying to help. He presses his fists down onto the bed to help him stand up.

Before he can start walking you speak up, “Is everyone okay?” it came out as a whisper. You look at him from the corner of your eye, not turning to look at him. You can see a sigh of relief from him.

“Everyone is fine (Y/N), don’t worry.” He comes back and kneels on the floor next to you, “Everyone is just so happy to have you back home safe.”

Looking over to him for the first time, your heart shatters. You can see the worry you caused in his face, not only his expression but the lines on his face, the bags under his eyes. It looks like he hasn’t slept in months. When you make eye contact he gives you a soft comforting smile. Letting you know that it’s okay. “I, I didn’t mean…” All of a sudden tears burst out, pouring out. You can’t hold it in anymore, “I’m sorry.” You manage to mumble out between sobs. You bury your face in the blanket covering your knees.

The feeling of a hand on your back causes you to jump, instantly the hand returns to your father’s side. He is devastated that he scared you like that, he didn’t mean to. Instantly you feel bad about it, you weren’t expecting it and it caught you off guard. Maybe you are more damaged than even you thought.

“Sweetie..” He sounds heartbroken trying to find the words to say to you, “There is nothing to feel sorry about, this… this is not your fault.” You can tell by his voice that he is crying as well.

It takes every ounce of courage you have to look over at him, his eyes red and puffy are focused on you. You force yourself to try and smile for him. “Listen (Y/N),” His voice cracks, “We know it will be hard for you, we know it will probably take some time. We are all here for you, and we won’t give up on you. Now, there is a group of people waiting outside this door who love and care about you. They are waiting for me to walk out and tell them how you are doing, I’m not going to lie to them. They want to help you, they are willing to do anything they can for you. I just want you to know that you are not alone in this.”

You know exactly who he is talking about when he says it. Instantly you picture the group standing out in the hallway, knowing that they do still care about you, the fact that they aren’t mad at you helps you feel better. It helps, but it doesn’t take the pain and memories away. Your sobs have settled to a silent cry.

Taking a deep breath, you make the decision to lean over and wrap your arms around your dad. You don’t realize how much you needed a hug until you got one. He wraps his arms around you, making you feel safe, like everything will really be okay. It helps calm you down. Resting your head on his shoulder you start to feel relaxed. “Everything will be okay, I promise.” He whispers to you. 

Pulling away, you sit on the edge of your bed, wiping away the tears on your face. Your dad gets up to sit on the bed next to you. You manage to smile at him, trying to lift up the mood in the room, to show that you aren’t as broken as he may thing. Yes, you have some issues but they don’t need to walk on broken glass around you. That’s all he needed, just to know that you have hope as well.

 “You know, I think you really hurt caps feelings,” Your eyes widen, looking your dad in the eyes, you feel your stomach drop in fear of hurting him, “Yeah, it has to be pretty embarrassing for him to get his ass kicked by an 18-year-old.” He lets out a little laugh, you lightly smack his arm in anger.

“I thought I really hurt him or something!” You say with slight annoyance, but you can’t hold back a laugh. Thinking that you little (Y/N) Stark beat up Captain America, and the rest of the Avengers actually. 

“So heres the thing,” He switches from joking around back to serious, “A doctor is going to be in in a bit to make sure you are okay medically. Now, I know you will need someone to talk to as well, a professional.” He pauses, “Its your decision but if you would want Sam is willing to help with that as well, its your choice if you want to talk with him as well. However, I want you to talk with Barnes, Steve’s friend, he went through the same stuff you did. He wants to help you and I think you should take it.” 

“I thought you hated Barnes?” You ask in confusion.

“I did, but he is willing to help you. Anyone who is willing to help you is okay with me.” Suddenly a look of joy is expressed on his face, “Also, I had FRIDAY search the internet for the best emotional support dogs available. Once you give me the okay you are going to meet all of them to pick your favorite.” 

He looks so happy telling you about the dogs, knowing how much you love dogs. “Are you serious?” The idea of getting one gets you a little excited, “Anyone I want?” 

He laughs, “Of course, only the best for my baby.” There is a knock at the door, “Oh, that must be the doctor. Before I let them in do you need anything? Want me to get anything for you? What can I get you to eat? I know you must be hungry, anything you want. You can eat alone, just us, or with everyone?” 

The burst of questions gets you off guard. You realize that you are still in your Hydra clothes, this makes your skin crawl. “Can I please have some new clothes? Are my sweatpants and hoodies in the same place?” Looking around you notice that your room is exactly the way you left it. Its a bit cleaner but everything is still in the same place. 

“Of course, if you want I can go wash them first,” He stands and walks towards the closet to get you a hoodie, taking it out he smells it, “It has that closet smell, I’m going to wash it first.” 

“Thanks.” You can’t help but feel bad making him do so much for you, “Is it okay if I shower after the doctor leaves? and I really want a cheeseburger. A good cheese burger sounds really good right now.” 

Your dad lets out a scuff, “Of course you do.” He smiles as he shakes his head. “What?” Confused, not knowing what he is talking about.

“Remember when I was taken hostage?” you nod, “That’s the first thing I asked for when I got back. I’ll make sure you have a good one though, not fast food shit.” 

He goes to walk out, “wait,” You quietly call out before he opens the door, “Make sure you make enough for everyone.” You say looking up at him. You don’t know why you said it, its not like you are in the mood for a big ‘family’ meal. The idea of getting back to normal as fast as you can sounds nice to you though, and you do really want to see everyone. You miss them, and you do love having them around. They always cheer you up and bring out the best in you. Plus, you know they are all really hoping to be included.

Opening the door, you can’t hear much, he makes sure not to open it all the way so everyone can easily look in. However, you can hear, “Tony, this is Doctor Reid” It was Pepper. Hearing her voice struck you hard, it makes you smile. Remembering the last time you saw her, how she wanted to officially adopt you, how the two of you were over joyed when you accidentally called her “mom”. 

Before thinking you call out to her, “Pepper?” It was shy, not too loud but just loud enough to catch her attention. You stare at the slight opening from the door, heart pounding wondering if she even heard you. Nervous, but a little excited to see her, you need her right now. 

The door starts to open, you stare to see who it is. You instantly light up seeing Pepper walk in the room. Not much a surprise that she is crying. Her hands over her mouth and nose and tears roll down her face in happiness in seeing you. Seeing her cry made you start again, you stand up to walk towards her. “Oh (Y/N),” She pulls you into a tight hug. Which hurt you but you didn’t mind. “You have no idea how happy and relieved we are to have you back home. I’m so glad you are safe.” 

The doctor walks in, Pepper pulls away. She gives you a smile as she walks out of the room. You sit on the bed as the doctor examines you, he doesn’t stay long. Just checks your injuries to make sure nothing is to severe or infected and nothing is broken. The only thing bothering you really is your muscles, they are just sore and everything nothing you haven’t felt before.

Your shower helped you feel renewed. Now you are in freshly cleaned clothes, you feel clean, your hair is brushed and you feel refreshed. You are alone in your room, everyone is getting ready for dinner in the kitchen and common area. Sitting on the edge of your bed you just think. Your thoughts wander. What now? What happens next? How much did you miss? Can you be normal again? You have new powers, what can you do with them? 

About 10 minutes pass when F.R.I.D.A.Y comes over the speakers in your room, scaring the shit out of you, “Ms. Stark, dinner is ready whenever you are”. That makes you realize that you have to get used to having that around again. Taking deep breaths, you stay calm as you stand to make your way to dinner. You still haven’t seen any of them since you beat the shit out of them. You don’t know if you should be embarrassed, happy, sorry or scared when you walk in. Your nerves are driving you insane.

Walking down the hallway your stomach is in knots and palms are sweaty. You walk slowly, trying to calm down before you walk in. Then you find yourself at the end of the hallway, just out of sight from everyone. Taking one final deep breath you walk in. You quietly enter the room, obviously nervous and shy. 

Everyone turns to you instantly. Instantly they all seem happy to see you. You are blown away seeing them all. Steve, Nat, Sam, Wanda, Bruce, Thor, Peter, Rhodey, Bucky, and even Clint are here. Looking around, seeing everyone’s faces, you can feel the love in the room. It helps settle your nerves, making you forget why you were so nervous about seeing them. 

No one says anything, you just stand there for a moment. “Lady Stark!” Thor’s voice booms throughout the room in excitement as he walks towards you. He rests his hand on your shoulder, making sure that he was careful with you. “It is great to see you again, I have missed you.” It’s been so long since you have seen Thor, longer than anyone else. Without realizing what you were doing you go to hug him. Thor’s hugs have always been the best, and you really needed one. 

“Where have you been?” You ask, looking up at him. Before he can answer Bruce catches your attention, “And where have you been?” You had a hint of anger in your tone, thinking about how both of them just disappeared without saying anything, with no contact all those years ago. 

Bruce is taken back in surprise of your tone, “Oh, well you see (Y/N)...” He is trying to figure out how to explain, “It’s a long story, we can discuss this later.” He was rubbing the back of his neck looking away. Obviously, he doesn’t want to talk about it. 

One by one everyone starts walking up to you so they can hug you. You manage to make fun of Steve a bit for kicking his ass. His defense was he didn’t want to hurt you but no one was buying it. Peter walks over to you, you are instantly struck with guilt. Looking at him you notice that he has a nasty black eye. “I did that, didn’t I?” You say shyly. 

Peter nods his head, “Yeah but it’s not the first time a super soldier gave me a black eye.” He looks over to Steve he tries to look away pretending not to notice. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologize. You were calm with Peter, just like everyone else. Your feeling from before all this happened seem to have faded. There are more important things to worry about, you were just happy to have him as a friend. Having a boyfriend, a date to the dance or worrying about a crush wasn’t that important anymore. Eventually it will be but there are more important things to think about. Maybe once everything calms down you can see if that spark is still between the two of you. “What was your excuse to May for this one?” You ask jokingly to lighten up the mood in the room.

“Oh, um yeah. I just told her the truth. I was trying to save you and you got really strong and punched me in the face.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. You however are in shock. 

“You told May the truth?!” You blurt out, “Did she not question why you were with the Avengers? Fighting?!

Peter laughs, “Yeah um she knows I’m Spiderman now.” 

Your eyes widen, “How did she find out?” You ask with concern.

“Yeah, well after the whole homecoming incident and Mr. Stark gave me back my suit. I wasn’t paying attention and she walked by as I was taking my mask off.” He was so calm with the story like it didn’t faze him at all.

“What homecoming incident? Why did he take you suit?” You are now getting irritated needing to ask so many questions to get the full story. Everyone else thought it was funny though.

“Well you see.. my homecoming date’s dad was a bad guy selling dangerous weapons so I had to fight him, a building fell on me, and I saved the day and happy’s job.” 

“A building what?!” You yell in shock.  He brushes it off like it was nothing, you are obviously confused and very concerned. You look around to see everyone else’s faces, none of them look even remotely concerned.

“So, Lil’ Stark,” Sam gets your attention, “Now you need a cool superhero name.” He smiles as everyone starts thinking of a cool name. You walk over and sit at the table with everyone, dinner is already on the table.

Everyone sits and eats, during the entire meal everyone is shouting out cool names for you. You had always wanted to be one of them, and now you can. That’s when you know what you are meant to do, this happened for a reason. You are meant for something special. This isn’t the end of your story, it’s the first page.

Please tell me what you thought of this series!! It means a lot, I love this series and I want to know what you all thought. 

Reblog please, you have no idea how much it means to me! 

Requests are open if you want more, I’m all for doing one shots based off this story, look at my prompt list!

Help Taglist: @m4shtyx @spiderlingsweb @mackvanstan @bookgirlunicorn @rubygalaxyvh @littlephoenix-fire @cococola-cocaine

Permanent taglist: @saturn-aka-six

@starksparker @spideyfield @noshitstark I know this is the last part of the series but if you are bored and want to check it out I would love feedback. (If not its a series so I understand, your cool. I wont be upset at all) 

[softmoxymuffin]

“Keeping up Defenses”

chapter 7, again just forgot to upload this here but it’s already uploaded on ao3 i’m thinking of writing 2 more chapters of this then an epilogue and maybe a collection of ficlets from deans perspective i dont know yet let me know if anyone is interested 

Chapter 1: Check Please

Chapter 2: Airplanes and Automobiles

Chapter 3: Tellin’ the Folks

Chapter 4: Hot Cocoa and Surprise Hugs

Chapter 5: Breakfast Sandwiches

Chapter 6: Learning Experience

Chapter 7: Keeping up Defenses

Chapter 8: Confessions in the Bitter Cold

After their successful afternoon at the Black and Brave Wrestling Academy, he and Dean had gone home with big bright smiles on their faces. During the ride back home, Seth was sorely tempted to ask a couple of questions about the things Dean had shared with his students, but seeing the satisfied look on Dean’s face, he was not willing to be the reason to change that.

They had gone home to a semi-busy house. The drive way had been newly shoveled. The garage seemed a lot more roomier than that morning, and the kitchen was far cleaner than how they had left it earlier. The boys had walked into the living room where Hector and Brandon were both helping themselves to a couple of beers. Holly and Dd were on the floor wrapping up some Christmas presents. The TV was on to a brand new game which seemed to have gotten everyone’s attention.

“Hey, how was school?” Brandon had asked with teasing in his voice.

“I had a blast.” Dean answered as he plopped himself down on the couch right behind the female members of the Rollins family. “Best day in school I’ve ever had.” He added with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah?” Seth’s older brother just smiled before he took another sip of his beer.

“Yeah, you would say that after you scared those kids shitless.” Seth added as he got two bottles of beers, one for himself and another for Dean. He gave one to the other as he sat on the couch right next to him.

Holly with a shocked and worried face had playfully smacked Dean on the calf and asked him “What did you do?” her little smirk betraying any actual scolding from the matriarch.

“Nothing,” Dean replied innocently but his blue eyes sparkling with mirth which he tried to hide behind taking his first sip of his beer.

“He rolled out like 10 feet of barbed wire and threatened to wrestle them with it.” Seth countered with a matching smirk on his face.

“Dean!” Holly now a little more outraged and gave the older man another smack on his calf, which only made Dean laugh a little harder. “You didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” he denied. “I never threatened them. I just thought I would give them a… unique learning experience.” He explained, even adding the air quotes on the last statement. “I doesn’t hurt to know as much as you can in this business.”

“Dean, it’s barbed wires!” the middle Rollins child pointed out. “It hurts no matter what you do with it.” He added.

But Dean only sank into the couch further as he drank his beer and quietly mumbled to himself. “You get used to it.”

Though Seth knew what Dean meant. Though Seth had seen more than his fair share of matches that showed a bloody Jon Moxley taking barbed wires, fluorescent lights, and countless other weapons to his body, and all with a giant smile to his face. Though Seth knew exactly what Dean was capable of, hearing that verbal confirmation of how numb to pain Dean had gotten to be over the years made the younger man’s chest tighten with an ache. As much has he wanted to just shake his friend from those types of thoughts, he didn’t think calling him out on it would really help. Thankfully, Seth’s stepdad had interjected before the temptation got too much.

“You got 10 feet of barbed wires to scare a bunch of kids?” Hector asked disbelievingly. “That’s a lot of dedication for a prank.” He added before raising his beer in mock toast to his houseguest.

“Finally, some appreciation.” Dean joked as he raised his own glass to the older Rollins. “But seriously, the barbed wires there for when you need it. I saw your fence getting a little rusted on the far end there. Thought you could use the replacement.” He added simply before he took another sip of his beer.

“I had been meaning to buy that-” the genuine surprise clear in Hector’s voice. “Thank you Jon. I owe you.” He raised his beer in a simple toast towards his house guest.

A toast Dean had raised back from his seat as he replied “Don’t mention it.” Before taking a drink himself.

Seth raised his eyebrows at the revelation. He like his stepfather had assumed the barbed wires were purely for the prank on the kids. That just seemed like something Dean would do. He was a prankster and doing something like making the effort to buy unnecessary hardware for a prank just seemed like him. Now knowing that his friend actually went out of his way to, again, buy something his family had unknowingly needed was made his chest warm with affection.

The warm camaraderie of the living room was broken with the sudden and somewhat loud ringtone of Taylor Swift’s ‘Never Getting Back Together’ coming from the phone on the coffee table. The phone Seth recognize to belong to his younger sister Dd. Dd who then made an annoyed sigh as she tried to ignore the ringing phone and continue with her gift wrapping.

“D, come on pick it up or put it on silent mode. We’re trying to watch the game.” Brandon had complained.

Mumbling a curt ‘fine’ under her breath, Dd took her phone only to reject the incoming call and put her phone on silent before putting it down and going back to her work. The Rollins family, with Dean, enjoyed another 5 minutes of watching the game before the phone began to rang again. This time vibrating incessantly on the glass counter top. The whole family seemed to clearly made a collective effort to ignore the ringing until the youngest member could make a decision on what to do with it.

This collective agreement was either lost on Dean or he had actively disregarded for putting his beer down and grabbing the phone in his hand. Dd to her credit tried to grab it before the other man could take it, but was too slow to do anything. Everyone was on the edge of insisting Dean to not do anything and just give it back, but again no one was quite fast enough to stop the man.

“Hello,” Dean had answered casually with a thick and over the top Texan accent. “This here’s Zeke for Sex and Sound, your number one source for all-male erotic voice play. How may I help you darlin?” Dean had drawled out so effortlessly the whole Rollins family could not decide how to react.

Brandon practically shot beer out his nose. Hector, for all his stoicism, just seemed both confused and disturbed by what he was hearing. Holly was scandalized but seemed to be curious about what was going to unfold. Dd went from being upset and embarrassed had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop herself from laughing her head off. Seth froze in his seat. His jaw dropping at Dean’s audacity to not only pick up his sister’s phone, presumably presumedly intercepting a call from her ex, and then to pretend to be a phone sex operator in front of his whole family like he was just ordering pizza.

“Oh hello Ryan, what can I do you for?” Dean drawled sexily with a smirk on his lips and twinkling in his eyes. He had winked for a split second towards Dd before he continued. “Nope. No Dd here Ryan… But you know what I got a big D right over here just for you.” He had teased which forced everyone in the room to suppress giggles. “Oh calm down sugar… no need to get all testy. Unless you’re into that sort of stuff then well…” Dean’s smile just seemed to get bigger as he played the role. “Well you know what, with an attitude like that sounds even a good ole’ fucking ain’t gonna cure that. Scumbags like you give dick a bad name… so unless you want me to bill you for the filth you’re spewing in my direction right now, then I suggest you quit calling this number or you’ll be expecting a whole different kind of fucking going your way, sugar.” He made an exaggerated kissing sound before he hung up the phone and handed it over to a stunned Dd.

Now the whole Rollins family was frozen. None of them knew how to process what they had just heard. Even Seth was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact his best friend had made up some ridiculous sexed up Matthew McConaughey accent to scare off his sister’s asshole ex. It was fucking glorious.

“Goddamn…” Hector was the first to break the silence. His eyes fixated on Dean as if he had just grown a second head or something.

“That was amazing!” Brandon had finally spoke up after recovering from choking on his beer. “Holy crap!”

“Brandon! Language!” Holly had called out before lightly patting Dd on her shoulder and motioned towards Dean. “Dd do you have something to say?”

“Oh my God, thank you so much!” she said excitedly as he quickly got to her feet and surprised Dean by giving him a tight hug.

Seth was still kind of frozen on the spot after what had happened, but the way his sister too easily wrapped her arms around Dean’s neck made the warmth in him started to chill. He could only stare as his best friend awkwardly tried to return the hug without leaving his sitting position on the couch. A shy tight lipped smile on his face as he leaned forward on to Dd’s shoulders just before she let go and went back to the floor.

“He’s been driving me insane since yesterday. Couldn’t get rid of him.” Dd explained. “You really didn’t have to do that Dean.” he added.

“Don’t sweat it kitten. Assholes like that need to be put in their place. Let me know if he tries to call you again, I’m sure I can get Zeke out for another round.” Dean said with a flirty wink towards the girl.

That chill in Seth now ran cold. Oddly enough he doubted it was the fact that it was his sister that was getting his friend’s attention that made him feel that way. It was something else Seth couldn’t put his finger on, but he knew he didn’t like how it felt.

It was fairly quite for the rest of the night. Holly and Hector went to make dinner while the rest of them stayed in the living room to continue watching TV. After the game Seth decided to leave, thinking he might just need to rest before dinner started. He had turned back before going upstairs, his invitation for Dean to hangout dying on his lips as he watched his sister take his place on the couch as the rest went ahead and started to choose a movie for all of them to enjoy. Seth bit his tongue and quietly went to his room. That weight in his chest just seemed to only get heavier.

That night Seth had another dream. Again they were at the steakhouse. Again their had their steak and eggs. Again their waiter had assumed they were a couple, but this time the mention only made Seth smile. They fast forward to being in their room. Their clothes excitedly taken off each other. Their hands never getting enough of each other’s skin. Lips so insistent but soft kissing each other breathless. Seth found himself pushed to the bed as he stared up watching Dean standing over him. His body looking so strong and warm and inviting. Heat practically radiated off of him. Then dream Dean spoke, or was it Zeke?

“Sugar, you’re the prettiest goddamn thing I had ever seen…” he drawled before climbing on the bed and crawling towards him.

All that heat Seth had felt suddenly dissipated. A sense of dread overcoming him. It was Dean’s face inching closer towards him. It was his body. It was him. Seth wanted it to be him, but it wasn’t. Seth tried to crawl away, only meeting the headboard. His face coming closer and closer for a kiss. This dream Dean slowly growing more and more unfamiliar to him. This Dean being all show and nothing more. Exaggerated expressions and over the top voice. Dream Dean was not his Dean. He was not Seth’s Dean. He was not his. Not his. Not his. Not his…

Seth shot out of bed that morning. His body covered in sweat. His lungs aching for breath. His chest even heavier than he had felt the night before. He tried to lay back down and go back to sleep but every time he closed his eyes he only got visions of the Dean in his dream, or nightmare. Those last words ringing through his head again and again. Seth forced himself out of bed and took a much needed shower. All he needed was to start his day. That’s all he needed. It’s what he needed.

After hurriedly got dress and much like how he started the day before he made his way towards Dean’s room. He knocked on the door like yesterday, and like yesterday he heard nothing back. He opened the door then once again welcomed by the sparse look of the room; desk hardly touched, the bed made. Nothing in the room suggested an occupant other than a neatly packed bags in the corner. Seth quickly left and made his way downstairs.  

“Hey mom, where’s Dean?” the question like déjà vu to his ears.

“Good morning sweetie, you missed breakfast.” Holly answered as she was putting away the last dish she had just washed.

“Huh?” It was only then that Seth looked up at their wall clock; 10:34am. He hadn’t realized how much he overslept. “Oh, sorry mom.” He apologized and gave him mom a quick peck on the cheek before getting himself a cup of coffee.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked innocently.

Quick flashes of his dream ran through his head. Dream Dean’s flirty smile mocking him from deep in his subconscious. To be honest he hadn’t slept well, but his mom didn’t have to know about that.

“Good.” He lied.

“Well, I had put some of the leftovers in the oven” she motioned towards the food.

“Oh, thanks mom.” He replied as he made his way towards the oven and took a quick look inside. A nice little spread was left in front of him that made his stomach grumble. Before he took anything he asked his mom again “Hey mom, have you seen Dean?”

“Oh, he already left.” She answered as she folded the dishtowels. “He went out with Dd.” She added.

Seth suddenly lost his appetite.

“They went out?” he asked and was only answered with his mom’s curt nod. “Where’d they go?” he asked.

“Well Dd said she was headed to the mall for some last minute shopping.” She explained. “Dean had forgotten about shopping altogether and asked if she could join her.”

Dean asked if he could join her.  

Seth closed the oven door abruptly at that. The sight of the food making his stomach feel worse. He opted to get himself a cup of coffee and hoped the hot beverage would be enough to ease his gut.

“Not hungry sweetie?” she asked.

“Nah, I’m good.” He lied again, hiding his face behind his coffee mug. “Hey, where’s dad and Brandon.”

“Oh they went out to fix that whole in the fence Dean had spotted.” She answered. “That was really sweet of him to buy that for us. Think your dad wants to offer to pay him back for the wire.”

Yeah, Dean was sweet, Seth thought as a smile slowly creeped to his lips. A smile he quickly erased with another sip of scalding coffee, wanting it to replace the that bloom of warmth in his chest.

“I’m gonna go and lend them a hand.” He quickly said as he went to put on his boots and jacket before leaving.

“Oh ok, are you sure sweetie?” she asked worriedly. “You didn’t eat anything.”

“I’m fine mom.” He lied for the third time before he opened the door and walked out.

Dean asked if he could join her. Those words made the pit in Seth’s stomach feel even worse. It really shouldn’t though. Dean wasn’t his to keep. The other man was not obligated to stay by Seth’s side. He certainly didn’t need to ask permission to leave. He definitely could leave with just about anyone, including Seth’s sister.

Should Seth really be surprised though? Ever since he’s been friends with the other wrestler his younger sister had an embarrassing crush on the other man. Seth had always thought it was just her way of irritating him; mentioning how hot people he had to work with were. Dean wasn’t exactly the first guy his sister set her eyes on. Why should he worry either

Like, yes he has seen Dean flirt. He had seen him charm the pants on many a women. Dean had always had this cool cockiness about him. He’d give them that bright smile, show off his dimples, and use those baby blue eyes of his. Dean was incredibly attractive. Seth was not blind to that fact. He had just never considered it until now.

Even if they went out. It didn’t mean anything. They went to the mall for gods sake. They went out to buy Christmas presents. Of course Dean had not gifts prepared, this whole trip was unplanned. It was obvious he’d need to buy stuff. Who else better than his sister to bring shopping with. Who else should have Dean brought shopping with? Really who?

Dean was not his. Words from his dream seemed to creep up on him and took a hold of his heart. The ache he had felt I the pit of his stomach spreading all over. Seth wished the bitter cold of winter and maybe the strain on his muscles from hard work would be good enough to distract him from the confusion in his head and the ache in his middle.

He finally reached the far end of their back fence. His stepdad and Brandon working on the old barb wire had rusted through. Though Dean had only spotted one area that really needed the repair, Hector had decided to go from one end of the fence to the other and fix what needed to be fixed. They had the extra wire, they might was well used it. The prospect of finally fixing their whole fence made the patriarch smile, while it made Brandon groan. He more than once mentioned how this was not something he was expecting for his Christmas vacation. It was fair to say Brandon did not get any sympathy from either Hector and Seth.

They had ended up working until mid-afternoon. Following the fence and making sure they had fixed everything right up. Seth could feel the cold soaking through his skin. The ache seeping through his bones. But it was better than how he had felt a couple of hours earlier. He actually had the chance to forget about what was bothering him. He thought that was enough to calm his nerves for the rest of the day.

That plan shot out of the window when the first thing he saw walking back into their house was Dean and Dd sitting down at the dining room table having a couple cups of coffee. That ache in his gut came back in full force.

“Hey man,” Dean greeted. “How goes the repair?”

Before Seth could say anything, Hector had jumped in and answered for them. “It was great. All that barbed wire you bought had really helped Dean. Thank you.”

“Well I’m glad it helped.” He smiled to the older man. “Was worried I bought too much, but can you believe they sell that stuff in 10 feet coils now? Couldn’t get anything less than that.” He complained.

“It was more than enough, went out and fixed the fence end to end.” Hector announced happily before getting a cup of coffee himself.

“Yeah Dean, thanks a lot.” Brandon said sarcastically, but clearly just fooling around with them. “Hadn’t realized how damn long our fence was until today.”

“Quit whining! It’s good for you to actually get yourself working.” Seth replied to his older brother.

Seth took his time and waited for his turn at the coffee machine, all the while staring at the Dean and Dd seated somewhat close to each other talking low about something that made Dean smile.

“So!” Seth may have said a little too loudly. “How was the mall?” he asked more towards Dean.

“It was great.” Dd was the one who answered. “Hadn’t realized they added so much to the place. It was really great. Got a ton of stuff for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Seth asked dumbly.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” Dd answered, and when her brother didn’t seem to get the hint she elaborated. “The Christmas party. For the guys at the wrestling school. At your café. Mom’s been prepping for it for weeks. Did you forget?”

Seth completely forgot. Since starting Black and Brave they’ve had a yearly Christmas party celebrating the past year. This year he had actually added a new venture of starting a small café near the academy. A nice little coffee shop for their community. It wasn’t an official opening, but it was his mom’s idea to have a soft opening just for them to celebrate the holidays as well as the new business. Seth felt like an asshole for forgetting, and he was sure it had shown on his face.

“Wow, and here I was thinking you just forgot to invite lil ole’ me.” Dean teased as he took another sip of his coffee. When Seth hadn’t smiled at the teasing Dean backtracked and said. “Don’t sweat it man. You’ve been really busy and worked up over stuff. Everything’s going to be fine. Go grab a coffee and a doughnut here.” He said comfortingly as he motioned to the small spread of sweets they must have gotten from the mall.

Seth did his best to calm down. After everything that’s been going on he couldn’t believe he had forgotten about the Christmas party and the coffee shop. He had been so distracted he forgot. He finally got the chance to take a cup of coffee for his own. He took the free seat right next to Dean and was just about to get a doughnut for himself when Dd squealed.

“You will not believe how many people are commenting on my post right now. It’s insane.” She said as she shoved her phone towards Seth.

“Still have no idea why anyone would be interested in that.” Dean said before taking a bite of his doughnut.

“Because my friends are freaking out about who my mystery date was for today.” She said with a big smile.

It wasn’t until Seth had actually taken a good hard look at the Instagram post his sister was referring too. It was generic Instagram picture for sure. It had the soft filter and the non-descript background. It was the subject of the photo that really got Seth’s attention. It was Dd’s hand clasping another. Though there was hardly any hint to the man attached, Seth knew instantly. It was Dean’s hand. In the caption below it said ‘shopping with someone special’ followed by a few emojies of red and pink hearts and yellow smiles.

For the second time that day, Seth suddenly lost his appetite to eat. He resided himself to quietly finishing his coffee and saying goodbye to everyone before heading back upstairs. If he thought his body felt heavy right after fixing the fence, it was nothing compared to how down and out he felt at that moment as he practically dragged his feet back to his bedroom.

He landed on his bed with a disappointed whoosh, letting the weight of his limbs and everything he was feeling just pull him to bed. Seth felt like all that hard work was for nothing. He was glad to be of helped. He was glad to have spent the afternoon with his family. He should be glad for the somewhat productive day he’s had, but he can’t. The ache in his chest just wouldn’t let him.

He just felt defeated by his emotions. Logically he knew it most likely meant nothing. Just another ploy for Dd to get back at her ex. He knew that it was just a shopping trip to the mall. He knew that if anything was going on Dean would be the first one to tell him. He knew that it was nothing. He knew. Did he?

A knock at the door startled him from his overthinking. He didn’t even have the energy to angrily shout at whoever was at the other side. He knew deep down that no matter how shitty he was feeling right now, he shouldn’t be taking it out on anyone.

He slowly got out of bed and made his way to open the door only to be met with the one person that he really could not stand to look at right now.

“You ok?” Dean asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” Seth needed to get better at lying. “Just not feeling well. Must be from all the work.”

“-Or it might be from the hunger.” The other wrestler countered as he got out a plate of goodies for him. “Your mom said you hadn’t eaten anything since this morning.”

It was only then that Seth really felt the emptiness in his stomach. He had been much too upset to even realize it until now.

“Thank you,” he said sheepishly as he took the plate offered to him.

“You’re welcome.” Dean replied, and before he turned to leave he asked. “Are we cool?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be?” another lie.

“I mean, you haven’t really talked to me all day. Just wanted to make sure.” He answered.

“I mean you’re the one who left with Dd.” Seth said without thinking, the hurt look on Dean’s face making him regret his words instantly.

“Is that what this is about? Seth, seriously?” He answered exasperatedly. Seth looked at him with a somewhat clueless but sad expression. “Seth it was just a shopping trip to the mall. I needed help to buy stuff and Dd was already heading there so I decided to ask for her help.” He explained.

Seth looked at him suspiciously, he already knew all of this even without Dean saying it. He knew, but he still felt the need to hear it from Dean. “And that photo was what?”

“That was just to mess with her ex.” Dean answered. “It didn’t mean anything. Hell even she knows that.”

“You sure?” he just had to ask.

“Yeah Seth, I’m sure.” Dean’s irritated tone ringing through more strongly now, but when Seth didn’t seem to budge from the issue he added “I’m not interested in your sister Seth.”

“Well maybe you’re not.” He countered.

That made Dean fold his arms to his chest  and asked “What are you trying to say?”

“I mean…” What was Seth trying to say, he stuttered with his words. “I- well- I just mean, you might. You know. Give her the wrong idea.”

Dean raised both eyebrows with surprise, his blue eyes clearly showing his hurt and confusion. “You think I could do that to her? -Wow, didn’t realize how much of douche you thought I could be.” The blond fidgeted in his place, not able to look at Seth in the eye.

Seth didn’t understand until now how accusatory he had been sounding towards Dean. Of course he would never have thought Dean would take advantage of his sister, but it was too late it had already been said.

“Dean I-” Seth tried to explain himself.

“Save it Seth,” he turned to walk away but before he did he added. “You know what, she’s a lot smarter than you give her credit for. Might actually learn a thing or two from her.” He said condescendingly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Seth asked.

“Nothing,” he answered. “Should I leave now?” he asked.

Somehow deep inside him Seth knew Dean was not asking to leave the hallway, nor leave his sight. Seth had a overwhelming feeling that he meant leave for good and no matter how bad he was aching before, the thought of Dean leaving was worse.

“No,” he answered. He had put his plate down on the nearest flat surface in his room and carefully approached the other man. Carefully he wrapped his hand around Dean’s wrist. “Stay.”

“You sure? Coz it sounds like you don’t want me here.” He replied.

“I do.” You have no idea how much. He thought but could not say. “I want you to stay… please.”

Dean seemed to soften right before his eyes. The tension from his body seemed to fade away. The anger on his face making way to calmness. It was only then that Seth realized how close he was to losing him.

“You sure?” he had to make sure again.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He answered with a soft smile. “Plus my mom would kick my ass if I kicked you out. Especially before the Christmas party.” He joked.

“Well, you’re mom can totally whip your ass.” Dean agreed with a chuckle. “You still want me there?”

“Of course I do.” Seth wasn’t sure if he ever wanted him to leave. “I want you there.”

Dean shrugged it off simply as if making the decision final in his head before saying “Ok,” then made the move to walk away but before that had to ask. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Just hungry I guess.”

“Well eat up,” Dean replied. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll go get it for you.” He added as he started to talk back down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Seth stood there dumbly wishing he knew how to tell Dean exactly what he wanted, but just could not risk the possibility of never having it, or worse losing what little he has now.

How do you tell someone they are all they have ever wanted without making them run for the hills?  

[renecdote]

throw me a lifeline (I might even catch it)

For @dove-among-bats, because I haven’t made you cry in a while beloved :)

Also fills the following request: Hey, i LOVE ur writting and saw your requests were open so Could you do “you’ve been asleep for the past 12 hours and I got worried” with Jason todd? Thanks love

Summary: Jason’s experienced a lot of trauma he’s not going to forget anytime soon. Especially not on nights when things go boom. 

Get up, Jason tells himself, get up and get out of here. But he doesn’t get up, can’t make himself move. He’s curled over with his forehead on the grimy ground and he needs to get up but if he tries he’s sure he’ll shake apart.

He’s already shaking apart.

“Hood,” someone says. Then, “Jason.”

Jason flinches when a hand touches his back. It feels like fire and ice and a punch and a hard whack from a crowbar. He chokes on a gasp. A scream builds in his throat and he bites his lip so hard it splits trying to keep the ugly sound inside. Blood dribbles down his chin.

“Jay?”  

The hand moves to his face, scratching over stubble he needs to shave off. That’s odd, Jason thinks, when did he take his helmet off? He can feel the cold, slimy wet of the concrete beneath him. When he sucks in a shuddering breath, he can taste dirt and the bitter tang of city filth and acrid smoke pouring into the air. The metallic taste of blood and rotting flesh and muddy soil-

Jason lurches forward and throws up. His hand smacks against the ground, trembling at the effort of keeping upright. His stomach aches with phantom pain and he presses his other hand against it, feeling for an injury he remembers getting but isn’t there. His head throbs. Hands - oh. yeah. someone is here - caress and prod at it. Jason flinches, it makes the whole world twist and shudder.

“-unresponsive,” that voice is saying again and Jason should know it, he knows he should know it, but trying to call up a name or a face drives spikes through his skull. It’s pain like nothing- no, one thing he’s ever felt before. The voice is still talking (never stops talking. ever. it’s… annoying?), but the words slip and slide around Jason’s ears. “…head injury…unknown…Batmobile…asap…med bay…”

Jason loses time. Or maybe time loses him. Suffocating darkness swirls with flashes of red and yellow and laughter and blue and pain. Always pain.

“Can you tell me where it hurts, Master Jason?”

“Had enough yet, little birdie?”

“Your pain tolerance is pathetic.”

“I wish I could stop anyone from ever hurting you again.”

“You ever want to just- make the pain stop, whatever it takes?”

“You’ll feel better when you wake up, Jaylad.”

Jason wakes up.

He doesn’t feel better.

No. That’s… not right. Right but not right. He feels too much. The world explodes into sudden technicolour, like he’s been floating below the surface of a murky lake and someone has reached down and hauled him out. Bright light clashes with quiet voices clashes with steady beeping clashes with heavy warmth clashes with buzzing pain.

Jason squeezes his eyes shut. Clamps his hands over his ears and curls up as much as he can with things pulling at him and trapping him and- god- it’s too much too much too much-

“Jason-”

“-it’s okay-”

“-shh-”

“-safe, Little Wing”

Jason wants to scream. So he does. A hoarse, tortured sound muffled through teeth clenched so hard he can feel his jaw creaking. He just wants it to stop. The voices. The touching. The light. The beeping. Oh god, the beeping.

(5,

4,

3,

2,

1-)

(Boom.)

It’s not real, he tells himself. But it was. Dammit, it was real and it still feels real even though it’s been years, he should be over this by now, why can’t he just get. over. it. Why can’t he just function like a normal fucking person instead of imploding at the slightest reminder of-

There’d been an explosion. Not that explosion, another one. A recent one. Tonight. Last night? Jason jerks upright and pain tears along his arm but he ignores it, spinning around wildly to grab the first- Dick. It’s Dick’s arm, and his face is etched with the kind of panic that Jason feels curdling beneath his skin. There had been people in that building. Innocent people; mothers, children, families.

“Ex-” he starts and his voice cracks. Splinters. Shatters. His mouth is like a desert, his throat like a cliff eroded by harsh ocean winds, and he coughs until his chest burns from lack of oxygen. It almost drives him back into his mind (the last time he’d almost died from lack of oxygen he’d been suffocating in his own-). A warm hand against his shoulder, a cool glass pushed into his hand, keep him in the present. Just.

“Don’t talk,” Dick says. Then, quickly, like he knows if he doesn’t hurry up and get to the point his admonishment not to talk will be in vain, “Everyone got out of the building. A few injuries, but nobody died. You saved them all. It’s you we’re worried about, you…” had a meltdown “…you’ve been out for almost twelve hours, Jay.”

Jason sags, panic-fuelled tension draining away so suddenly it leaves him lightheaded. An arm comes up around his shoulders and Jason finds his head against his brother’s chest. He closes his eyes, curls a hand into the material of an old Gotham U sweatshirt so worn and baggy on his brother it must belong to Bruce. It makes him smile, just a little, to think of Dick raiding Bruce’s wardrobe the same way Jason used to raid Dick’s. Not that he ever found much worthy of stealing in there.

He realises it’s the first good memory he’s had since…  however much time has passed since he saw that fireball light up the night sky. Half a day, longer. It makes him smile a little more. Dick’s other arm comes up to hug him closer and his chin dips down to rest against Jason’s hair. Jason doesn’t usually allow this kind of affection. In a moment he’ll push away, get back to that carefully preserved distance between them. But for now, he’s tired and sore and darkness is creeping back up like a chill along his spine. And his brother is warm and comfortable (and safe).

“Master Dick?” he hears whispered on the edge of consciousness.

And Dick replies just as quietly, “He’s okay.”

If tonight (last night?) is proof of anything, Jason thinks, it’s that he really isn’t. He’s about as far from okay as a person can get. He doesn’t need the World’s Greatest Detective to tell him that. But Jason doesn’t argue the point, just like he doesn’t argue the hug, because from Dick’s lips it doesn’t sound like a fact. It sounds like a promise.

[isthemedia]

(I’m feeling a bit meh....so....here’s an extra chapter.)

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8  WARNING: Hinted Body Horror

Chapter 9

Eraser picks up from where he left off before running into those kids.

And Hizashi makes a realization...15 years later.

Warning: Minor Body horror alluded to

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                                    Chapter 9

He didn’t return to his, “home”, after the fight. There was something else he needed to do. He had to do it.

It was the only way.

The only way for the truth to get out there. He was interrupted when he tried to do this earlier. This time…

Eraser hoped that this time, they would have listened. But he should have known better. They never listen to him.

They never listen…

They never…

His wrists were bound behind him to have him stop clawing at the wound. It hurt! He scream and cried. Tears burning the opened skin.

The bandages were wound too tight. It gave him a headache.

Why? Why? WHY?

His eyes...his eyes…

He was going to follow through. There weren’t as many people around this time. Couldn't blame them, with all that happened. With all that’s still going on.

Shaking those thoughts from his head he was able to find the discarded canister. Three more. Just three more after this one. He knew there was a very good chance it wasn’t going to change anything.

That they were suddenly going to come out and admit everything.

But...he’d considered it closure from him.

Closure...for everyone else.

Picking the lock was almost too easy. And that should have been his first clue that something was awry.

“Figured you’d show yourself,” a voice stated.

He looked up. Several heroes were standing guard inside.

Perfect.

It would have been so much easier if he just did this last night. But now--

“Get him!” Another hero demanded as they leapt into action.

Quickly he discarded the canister once again and dove out of the way. A strength quirk? Alright he could work against that.

The tendril-like tatters of his cloak shot out and wrapped around the hero’s arm. His eyes went red as he hair stood up. The look of shock crossed their face before they were roughly and suddenly pulled from their footing, the distance between him and the hero quickly closing. Kneeing the hero in the chest when they got in close enough.

One down…

Three to go.

--

I can

It’s healing.

I’m scared.

I can’t stop.

They hurt.

Why can’t I stop it?

I want to be a hero.

I want to stop hurting.

My eyes

I want to go home.

Hizashi could feel tears gather in his eyes as he read on. He could feel the fear...hear the begging and pleading a scared child.

He choke as on sob that burst from his chest. He could have gone to U.A. and be safe there. They could have gone to school together.

Could have gotten to known one another.

The more he thought about it. The more he realized Tensei was right. He DID spend everyday looking for him.

Before classes.

After classes.

During lunch.

He was just looking for a boy with that messy hair, and those dull eyes. He kept looking and looking. He didn’t want to give up. He couldn’t give an answer as to why…

Hizashi was always so intuned with his emotions that it was more of a problem than a perk. He sobbed at movies. Jumped if he read a horror novel. Gushed with Nemuri over the idea of love…

Could actually fall in love at first sight.

He let out a wet scoff as he covered his face with a hand. Holy shit, that was it, wasn’t it? He only knew him for about ten minutes from the entrance exam, but that was enough to just, have him fall head over heels for the guy.

He didn’t even know his name, or what his Quirk was. Hell, even now he doesn’t even know his name. But...it was clear that he still carried it. The way his heart ached with just the thought that Eraser might be him.

Could be him.

Hizashi still wasn’t sure if Eraser and that boy were the same. It could just be a coincidence.

...yeah right. He’s knows he’s way smarter than that.

--

He dragged them out of the way. Made sure they were far enough from where the flames would reach. Even though they tried to stop him, he couldn’t let them just die…

Killing never felt right with him.

Just to take somebody’s life. People who had that power...they couldn’t be heroes. They could never be heroes.

He made his way through the building. Pouring the liquid form the container as he did. His nose crinkles slightly. It always had such a sweet smell that made him cringe slightly. Before he would start the blaze he had to leave a message.

Maybe this time he’ll leave something more straightforward. Something that can’t be simply shrugged off.

He thought for a moment; before something came to mind.

That just might work.

He made his way out, the heroes still out cold. He did feel bad for them. It probably was going to feel devastating that they were so close to stopping him, yet in the end they still failed.

Failure never felt good.

He bit his lip, almost thinking against doing it this time, but he couldn’t. Everything was done. He couldn’t turn back now. He needed to do this. He HAD to finish this.

A few strikes of the flint before the lighter would catch; he knelt down…

And watched as the the flame rushed along the trail, and inside. Pocketing the lighter, he knew it was only a matter of time before it was consumed in fire.

It probably a good idea to head back now. Two nights being out in the open with no retreat? It was a risk; and even though he wasn’t caught yet, he didn’t feel like pushing his luck.

The message left behind this time?

TELL THE TRUTH

--

“We regret to inform you but,  Put Your Hands Up Radio has been cancelled for the night. We understand that your disappointment. But we hope that you enjoy the replay of last week's show. In the words of the host, ‘Keep Plus Ultra’!”

Eraser blinked as he stared at the radio.

Something didn’t feel right. From what he’s learned about Present Mic from his run ins is that no matter what, he’d still make it to his show.

Their run in five years ago when he knocked him out.

The attack on the USJ. If his injuries could be compared to the hero’s he was certain he was just in bad shape.

So what would be the cause of this absen--

There was a clatter. A faint one but it still carried through the halls.

W-was somebody...was somebody here!?

Without thinking Eraser was already making his way down the hallway.

--

I wanna go home.

I wanna go home.

I wanna go home.

I wanna go home.

I wanna go home.

I wanna go home.

I wanna go home.

Hizashi made a strangled sound as he threw the book across the room, having it smack against the door. Seven pages of that repeated sentence. If tore at his heart.

If Eraser...if Eraser was him…

Dammit! Why didn’t he try harder? Why didn’t he do something else? Why why why!?

Lost in his though Hizashi didn’t notice the door finally opening. In fact he didn’t realize anything was amiss until he felt a force rush him. Tackling him to the ground harshly. The wind actually getting knocked from him.

Dazed green eyes looked up, trying to focus at the figure over him.

“How’d you get in here!?”

That voice…he stared up at the person who had him pinned. The face finally coming into focus.

“Why are you here!?”

Eraser. He finally came back.

“How long have you been here!?”

Hizashi didn’t answer. Instead he reached up, hands trembling from the sudden rush of adrenaline, he placed them on the sides of Eraser’s face. He felt the other stiffen up at the contact. Hizashi’s thumbs gently stroked along the scarred skin at the corners of his eyes.

“Wha...what are you--”

“I’m sorry,” the blonde managed to choke out. “I’m sorry. I’m...I’m so sorry.”

Tears were falling, leaving wet trails down the blonde’s face. Eraser watched him for a few moments. H-he was angry...but there was something else there too. He just, couldn’t quite figure it out.

He leaned down some to get a better look at the blonde. Who in turn leaned up. Foreheads pressed together in a gentle almost soothing touch.

Hizashi took a stuttering breath as tears still fell. “Tell me...everything Eraser,” he asked in such a quiet voice it even shock himself.

“Th-there’s so much to tell...and... I can’t remember a lot either…” Eraser admitted. Even his rough voice was coming out soft, almost in a strained whisper.

“Then, just what you can. Please...please Eraser. I...I have time.”

[ikonislife]

My Professor 6

-Hanbin x Reader (Professor!Hanbin)

-1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

-It was universally known that friend with benefit between best friends would be a chaotic ride from the start till the heartbreak of either one or both party. No one says anything about being in one with your dear professor…

-Rated M for language, mention of sex (secretly rated B for bullshit 😏)

A/n: Short fillers and some fluff coming at ya. I’m setting up for something big and I hope it’ll all be worth the wait for you guys in the end, that’s all i want, for the series to live up to your expectation (:

“Come in!”

Friend or foe, the question weights heavily on your worn out mind as the bright incandescent assaults your bloodshot eyes with the creaking of the door. A timid greeting left your lips at the sudden realization of just how much time had escaped from your grip and how bothersome this must be for the young professor.

“Hi. I’m sorry for coming by so late. I just was doing homework and there’s this one problem. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.” Bitting your lips over your half lie. True that you weren’t all aware of the time but truly it was because you had stormed over in a fit of jealousy, homework wasn’t even remotely on your mind.

“No problem at all! After all, if I don’t have a little time for my sister in law then what good am I?!” Cheery albeit the haggardness that had begun to settle over the once impeccable model, three buttons far away from their home and a fourth hanging on for its dear life revealing nearly too much of the smooth skin to be appropriate. The near pushed back hair ruffled and strayed, no doubt a result of his frustration if your judgment is correct after hearing the endless groan of pain during the exam last week.

“PROFESSOR!” You had screamed, an effort to remind him of his careless word only to end in hushes and whispers realizing what you had just done probably brought in way more attention. “You can’t just call me that here? People know me here!”

“Oh and they don’t know me?” lip smacking, his eyes rolling so far back Jiwon near looking possessed before continuing. “Just Jiwon is fine, and everyone else left. Just me and my own poor soul suffering tonight.”

“Ah.”

Bag thrown and body sinking into the barely worn chair, your eyes begin wandering, taking in the sight of the incredible mess so strikingly opposite of your own dear professor. Who would’ve thought for someone whom care so greatly about his own appearance, the state of his living condition is… well abysmal. If the same is to say of his home, you’re feeling quite sorry for whoever it might be to become your future “sister in law” if there is a future where all three of you thrive and flourish together into the old age.

“What brings you to this neck of the wood? Homework you said…” Something in the tone of his voice doesn’t sit well with the herd of butterflies in your gut. Something playful, almost as if you’re just playing a losing cat and mouse game in the way his knowing smirk makes its way onto those lips just before uttering anything related to Hanbin. This mysterious person that your boyfriend seemingly trusted his life to, can he truly be trusted. Ever since the door to his humble office had swung open, there’s just a touch of something you couldn’t quite put your fingers on, like the fog of an early morning - clearly visible yet not quite there at the same time. “… Or is it someone?”

His words striking your attention away from the many things strewn across the small room, your mind near frozen as if he had caught onto it playing detective, gathering hints to further unlock Jiwon’s true character.

“Hmm…”

“So it is someone. Heejin?”

“Who?”

“Geez, Y/n. If you’re going to be rivals, at the least know the opponent’s game.” Damn him and his professor’s intuition and insightfulness.

“Who say there’s even a competition. For there to be rivals and opponents, there must be first a competition. Am I right?” You’re not quite certain if Jiwon is mildly amused or actually impressed with your words by the curve of his lips nor his sharp eyes… but his manner relaxed, leaning right into his chair making it his bitch in the way he so intimately gripping at the armrests.

“Okay, okay. Fair point.” Silent follows yet for reason unknown it wasn’t a sullen break, something inside your heart compels, instill a sense of trust for the man sitting just across the way. “Do you trust him?”

“What?” That question caught you off guard once more in every way possible even if this time, your eyes had been trained on the young professor the entire time. It thrown you off the path because how could a simple sentence, a mere four words uttering so effortlessly could carry an impact is so great it shook your soul.

Do you trust him.

Well, you’d like to think so for how risky the nature of your relationship turned out to be even if your demise would for certain bring about his own. However, never in a million year would you want for the basis of trust between you and the man your heart aches for to be merely one of survival. He has just as much to lose as you are but beyond safety, do you really trust just him.

Would you trust him to hold your hand when you’re facing your worst fear, or even just when you’re getting a flu shot because damn those needles and their scary pointy nature. After a long night of partying, can you trust him to lay you in bed, tuck you in, and kiss you goodnight to only then take his own place beside you without asking for favors in return.

After all, you known the man mere months and have gotten betrayed by others you knew for years. Who to say this Hanbin, the caring gentleman you know is nothing but just a persona put on for show masking away the real him.

“I sense hesitant.” Jiwon speaks up once more, words just as concise and to the point as they had been. You should be more wary of this person seemingly psychic in his thought but it’s absolutely the opposite. You want more out of him, want for him to speak his mind until you’re completely vulnerable and begging for him to stop because maybe then, you’ll finally gain insight into his and Hanbin’s relationship... Ultimately, perhaps you’ll finally stop being in the shadow with your own relationship.

“No, not at all. I just-“

“It’s okay to be hesitant, Y/n. Actually, I expected for you to have a least a few questions. It’s only natural for you to…Strange if you don’t.” The man pauses, thought much too hard to realize into words. “I wouldn’t necessary say concern, perhaps at the least bit curious about his life?”

That all knowing smirk, the uneasiness stirring within your gut is hard to ignore when each of Jiwon’s word striking your heart as if dart to bullseye, no, bullet to target. The small creek that was the difference between yourself and the young professors had suddenly widen into a vast ocean. How could these guys be just a few years older than yourself, mature and wise with wit to match. What is this chill roaming, squeezing itself in between each of the bone in your body. Perhaps their world, this realm completely unknown to a mere average child like yourself is no place to find love… Perhaps you should take a lost. After all, that rumbling deep within your soul reminds you so much of the time you had wandered accidentally into a brand name store that you’d have to sell a kidney and an arm to afford, watching as girls half your age without a second thought near bought half the store. It’s a world you know nothing of, a world you could only admire from afar, and a world perhaps has no place for someone like you. Not that Hanbin and Jiwon somehow is disdainful of your naiveness, nor are they derisive toward your innocence. Rather, you’re just unsure if you should be amongst adults where the word love actually carries weight when you barely could handle a crush. 

“I’d lay my life down for that man.” You try, you really try your to decipher the calmness behind his sharp eyes but there’s not much else when the powerful stare convey nothing but honesty. “That much I can say. However, I get it, I get that you barely know the guy for not even half a year with nothing to offer but this…this person, this seemingly great professor you see on campus. So popular, so charming. For all you know, he could be a fuck up that know how to put on a good show.”

“So, would you like some coffee?” Intrigued and definitely interested, your excitement to learn of the life Hanbin holds outside this campus, outside the confine of his own home - about the extent of his outside you know of - has you teetering at the edge of your seat, coffee intended for the tastebud of someone else offered in exchange.

Somewhere in the darken path between his own building and the much younger building where the young physics professor resides, Hanbin wanders, wonders what had kept you from answering his 10 billionth attempt at any sort of attention and lord knows attention is exactly what he craves today. Now he knows in his heart that fear has no place in this web of relationship between you, him, and Jiwon. However, and perhaps by recent event, in the dark corner of his mind there still is a bit of reservation, a reservation that no doubt will ring guilt when he’s no longer delirious from the long day and late night of being entertain by someone he would much rather never had introduced himself to if he could turn back the hands of the clock.

He thinks of your lies again and again only to clutch at his chest when that image of the kid named Hoseok devouring your lips so passionately flashes in his mind like a horror film. Then he thought of those days where both him and Jiwon were young and naive, fresh face and know nothing of the pain of love. It may not look it now but there was a point in time when Hanbin could only look at Jiwon with awe in the way he so effortlessly carry himself, the way he command the crowd just with a flash of his charming smile and raspy voice. Would you too eventually falls for the allure of the man he calls best friend?

Surely not if Hanbin follows his heart but the scene he had just walked into speak otherwise, your laughter so crisp and bright emanating through the dimly lit hallway, tearing away the cold night. A peek into the room reveal a scene Hanbin aren’t quite sure what to think of as Jiwon near sprawl his whole body atop his desk, bicep flexing with your fingers so daintily smoothing over the impressive muscles.

“Am I interrupting something?” Hanbin’s disappointed with himself and the tone his words hold, disappointed that he couldn’t hold his jealousy in no longer and had to do whatever it takes to stop your contact, disappointed that he even feel the need to be jealous in the first place.

“Oh hey. We were talking about Heejin. You know how she always like touches our arms. You know what I’m talking about right, Binnie?”

“Uhm, yea. Doesn’t really explain why my girlfriend needs to touch your arm though.” If this had been an anime, Hanbin’s glare would’ve materialized and no doubt sharp enough to cut off Jiwon’s head. “Say, Y/n, isn’t that my coffee?”

Is it wrong that your heart rejoices with the low growls of jealousy, the way he so possessively breathed out the word “girlfriend” then so softly, as if wanting to be stern but couldn’t in the face of your smile when he addressed your name”.

“Yea, it was. You were occupied so I offered it to Jiwon as an incentive.” Jiwon might be backing down but you sure aren’t, still bitter although you’re not entirely sure why. It’s not as though Hanbin could really control when the wicked witch might ride through on her nasty broomstick.

Taken back by your brazen words perhaps much more than the fact that you had just addressed his best friend by his first name, Hanbin retreat, not wanting much more drama tonight as he had enough to last a good year. A quick goodbye later and you’re shadowing the seemingly fuming man down the faintly lighted hallway as his silent steps grew heavy. Did you crossed the line? You swore with your all to make him happy, to be there yet not even a day later here he is once again sullen.

“Hanbin…” Your heart ache, grasping at your meek voice in the way it came out so small, not dare to add fuel to his fire.

“Yea.” He replied simply.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know if I, I might’ve been harsh with my words. I know none of it is really your fault.” You’ve gotten used to it, disconnecting yourself from your man even though words of the heart is being spun, to any onlooker, you both simply heading the same direction.

“Sweetheart, stop. I’m not mad if that’s what you’re thinking. I just, I wish it was me you were laughing and joking with. Especially so soon after all that had happened, i just wish it was me” It’s taking his all not to turn around and hug you, just a few feet behind him there you walk, probably slumping and pouting as you do when something is upsetting yet he couldn’t do anything. That hurts more than anything this very second. “When we get home, I’m going to hug you and not let go. The only reason I haven’t yet is, I’m sure as obvious to you as it is me. Don’t mistake necessity for desire, what I want to do and what I am forced to do are two very different things.”

The rest of your walk in silent, you headed to your car while he to his office with nothing else but a faint smile to bid a temporary goodbye. You found yourself jogging, near running back to your car and the backpack heavy with book hastily thrown into the backseat. The old junk rumbling start and sped out to where Hanbin always park, slowly you pull into the empty spot right next to his shining horse, engine stalled as you wait patiently for his arrival. You didn’t know when but it seemed as though your fingers had landed on the mushy playlist full of love songs Hanbin had made even though your choice in music this late of night usually consist of heavy bass and loud guitars to shoo the sandman away.

Wasn't long till your car finding itself screeching a halt in front of that familiar driveway lined with green hedges that quite honestly taken you by surprise the first time you had been to his place. Who knew the ever busy professor actually got time for gardening, a very impressive garden at that flourishing in flower despite the breeze of approaching winter. It makes you wonder how magnificent this place must be in the height of spring. None of that matter now as your eyes lazily travel back to what really matters, Hanbin juggling his many bags and the key to the front door yet that handsome smile of his still bright to greet you.

“Beat me again. I swear, if this whole math thing doesn’t pan out for you, just become a professional racer.” Teasing smile on his lips but no sooner than the familiar beep of the security system sealing both away from the big bad wolves of the world resonates excitement within your chest, his smile already melted into a kiss so desperate you felt your soul being knocked out of your body.

His kiss like waves of summer beach, warm and gentle yet what it does to your heart, the intensity of thousand tsunamis. Lips chapped but you don’t mind as they envelopes yours in an intricate routine of teeth clashing and tongue, resembling that wondrous feeling of digging your toes into the coarse sand, letting yourself sinking into the embrace of the ocean. His hands gentle as the water lapping the shore yet rough in their neediness of feeling the warmth of your skin under his fingertips, skin so smooth and soft just as he remembers, just as he dreamt off for so long. You’re real. No longer will he awaken, body slicked with cold sweat and heavy pants deep seated in his chest because all that was left was the bitter taste of an unsatisfied break up, if he could even called it that. You were so close yet million miles away in the split second he caught your cold, contemptuous gaze in the passing crowd and that should’ve been his cue to stay away, to learn how to be content with a live without you but it only drawn him closer, light a fire under the craving that could only be satisfied with your smile. 

“I miss you so much.” Soft words utters against your bruised lips, gentle pants and hot breath fanning a silent that convey all the desire to be alone, to truly be lost within one another. You couldn’t recall the last time you were truly alone with Hanbin, to be completely yourself without the fear of being discover. There’s no word to express just how valuable this moment right this second is to the both of you, heart beating fast for a love barely coming out of its shell like a small sprout signaling better days after a hurricane.

You love him, you truly love this man… And best of all, he loves you just the same.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

2AM - part 9 (A Minseok Series)

Genre: Angst / Romance

Characters: Minseok X You

2AM [M] - Canon AU - Angst / Smut part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

“Friends? That’s what you said last time.” She mumbled under her breath. You weren’t sure if she believed a word out of your mouth at this point. You couldn’t exactly blame her if she did not.

“Anyway, I just came to pick up the dress,” she said softly and you remembered the text she had sent a day ago saying how she needed the red, fringed flapper dress for something and would return it unscathed next week.

‘Of course Minhee.’ you had texted back at the time, still feeling the awkwardness in your interactions with her ever since that day at her home. The day she fought with Minseok and found out about the secret relationship you had with him. The day she saw the hurt he had caused you, and she witnessed his pain as he begged you not to go.

“How is he doing anyway?” She said as soon as her fingers gripped the garment bag, her excuse for coming and her excuse to leave as soon as she had it. ‘“–Minnie.” She added after a pause and you watched her face for a long while, searching for any possible reason why she, his sister, would be asking you for his condition. A stifling heaviness inside your chest grew.

As far as you had always known, Minseok and Minhee spoke regularly. Texted often and shared stories of their lives with each other. Obviously there were plenty of secrets but they were always diligent in keeping in contact.

Or so you thought.

Your silence must have told her of your confusion because her face fell slowly and her eyes danced around, avoiding yours that knew her too well.

“We haven’t…or I haven’t spoken with him in a while. Not since–” her voice trailed off and you felt a pull inside your gut.

Not since that day.

It wasn’t just you that had lost something that day. Minhee lost the closeness she had with her only brother. Minseok had lost his sister’s trust and attention on the same day he had lost yours.

That heaviness pulsed inside your stomach, moving higher to irritate your heart. You didn’t even try to ignore it as it washed over you.

“He’s doing okay–” your nails scraped lightly over your chest, trying to settle your insides. “He’ll be okay.”

She watched your face in silence and you saw the twitch at the edges of her mouth. She tried and failed a smile. It never stood a chance. The sadness on her face was hidden just below the surface but you knew her well enough for the obviousness of it to hit you like a splash of water in the face.

“You miss him,” you said softly, feeling stupid for stating the obvious, yet unable to stop yourself. She inhaled a slow breath that trembled around the edges.

“You should call him, Minhee. He misses you too.” Minseok hadn’t exactly told you as such, but you were confident in your words. You knew it was true. It had to be true.

She set her jaw and nodded twice. “Hey, thanks for the dress,” she said, without promising you a single thing and the ache in your chest pulsed up into your throat as you looked at your best friend who had turned to leave your home as quickly as she could.

“Minhee, I’m sorry,” you said softly and all of a sudden you knew what the source of the ache was.

It was guilt and it raged up inside of you like a tsunami. “I’m sorry I did this.”

Her swift exit stalled and she stood motionless with her back to you and her hands gripped tighter around the garment bag she held in her grasp.

“I’m sorry If I ruined the relationship you had with your brother, that was never what I wanted to do.” You swiped quickly at the wetness you felt along your cheeks and half paid attention to Minhee shaking her head.

“No, it’s not you.” She said as she turned and you felt the warmth of her arms as she wrapped them around you. You felt the firmness in her embrace and she was speaking into your ear as she rubbed against your back.

“Don’t you think I know how much of a hypocrite I am? I’m not upset at him for loving you…or you for loving him. I’m more upset with myself. Maybe if I hadn’t been so against it back then, maybe he wouldn’t have felt the need to hide it. Maybe you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

You’d never even considered the idea that she might blame herself for this mess.

“No, minhee this wasn’t your fault. This was…this was us, we… we all made some mistakes.”

Your arms held her tight. Your best friend of an entire lifetime who wanted nothing more than to protect you in any way that she could. Who in the end couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

Because the truth was there in your words to her.

You had all made some mistakes.

After some tears and much needed comfort, Minhee left with a promise to call you later and when your apartment was finally empty and silent you plopped yourself down on your sofa and rested your head between your knees for a moment. Just for the spinning to stop. Just for the wild thumping in your chest to settle down and for the confusion about your own feelings to clear.

Minseok had fucked up. Of course he had. That much was clear as day, yet the longer you sat on your sofa with your head filled with those thoughts, the more you felt the lump in your chest moving and growing.

Had he been alone? This whole time? Without you to talk to daily, without his family to turn to…well the Minseok you knew would turn to his work.

He would push the sadness down, put up that smile that never reached those beautiful eyes and he would work. He would practice. He would dance. He would sing. He would struggle and overcome and he would work until he dropped. He would have done it with a smile on the outside and a profound emptiness on the inside that would only begin to crawl to the surface when he stopped moving. Alcohol could keep it at bay for a little while, but in truth, Minseok most likely worked until he couldn’t, and then drop like a stone from exhaustion.

You reached for your phone to silence the alarm that was ringing and you dragged yourself up off of that sofa to get ready for work.

The halloween party was on Saturday. You had a day to prepare some sort of costume and arrive at the address Minseok had texted after work that day. Because it was a weekend you could get away with closing just a bit early enough to get ready for the party. You would still be a little late though.

Even though you had promised Minseok that you would definitely come to the party, his texts went from polite and harmless, to downright pouty and desperate when the party had been going on for an hour and you still hadn’t left your apartment.

”are you sure you are coming? why are you so late? :(”

”everyone else’s friends are already here :(( oppa is forever alone”

”omg you’re taking a million years :((( ”

You walked up to the door at the address indicated in his messages, very aware that this was the very first time you had been to the dorm. This was Minseok’s home. You would see his room and his things and you would meet his friends and group mates. The significance rushed upon you all at once and you braced against the door frame for a moment before you rang the bell.

You didn’t have a chance to ring because you heard the click of a lock and the door was pulled open from the inside. The steady beat of the music from within the home hit your ears and you saw a comfortable crooked smile and a pair of eyes that held a familiar intensity that always held you hostage with a single look. He was dressed in a flashy suit, pinstriped with a vest and even a pocket watch with a big chain across his midsection, looking exactly like an old time gangster. The hat that sat over his head laid crooked and half concealed his blonde hair. How could such a potentially goofy costume look so good on him? How in the world was this fair?

“Finally,” he said in a quick breath and he paused to look you over for a minute in silence, taking in the costume you wore, a tight red dress with a forked tail attached at the rear. Your devil horns sat atop your head. It was a simple costume and was being reused from halloweens past since you didn’t have much time to do any shopping before this last minute party. After a while you saw the smile creep into his face which honestly had looked just a bit tense for a minute when he opened the door.

You felt his hand wrap around your hand and pull you through the door.

“A devil huh? Yixing’s going to flip.” He was speaking quickly under his breath and did not elaborate on what he meant. Yixing… you ran the name through your brain, placing a face to the one chinese member the group still had left. He must be in the country if he was at this party tonight.

“Wait, Minseok, how did you know I was here?”

“I was checking the door every once in awhile. Do you know how crazy it makes me that you can’t just be on time for things?” You zipped your lips, not wanting to engage him and his nagging.

The music grew louder as you moved through the home toward the living room where groups of people laughed, danced, talked and played what seemed to be a drinking game around the video game playing on the tv.

You felt instantly overwhelmed by the size of the group, a few familiar faces glanced curiously at you, looking down at your hand which was being securely held and pulled within Minseok’s hand. While their costumes helped disguise their identity only a bit, their faces were too familiar to you to be too effective.

“Hyung, who is this?”

Minseok had been stopped by a question that came from a tall werewolf with tufts of brown hair glued to his face and even coming out of his ears. The brightness of his smile was infectious and you smiled in return. It was Park Chanyeol of course. Anyone would have easily recognized the man and Minseok pulled you into his armpit as he wrapped a firm arm around your shoulder.

“Chanyeol, this is my best friend.” Chanyeol’s mouth opened in surprise and the fake fur on his eyebrows rose up high, accentuating his genuine surprise. His hand was gripping your own and shaking it up and down as you heard Minseok state your name, he continued the introduction. There was someone else standing beside Chanyeol in an instant and you caught another smile from Kim Jongin as he said his welcomes and offered you a cup with something pink inside.

You looked around at the small group that gathered, each with a wide smile and extended hand and each set of eyes left you feeling strangely at home and comfortable in their home.

Until you reached the final set of brown eyes. It took you a moment to get to him, through the chorus line of faces but when you met his narrowing eyes you were suddenly taken aback by the genuine hostility you saw in them. Your smile faltered a bit and you looked over his face, noting the black feathers of the large wings that sat extended at his back.

Despite the strange expression on his face you couldn’t deny his beauty and you struggled to put the smile back on your face as you extended a hand out to Yixing, who seemed to be dressed as an angel with black wings.

You heard a scoff from him and a snorting giggle from somewhere to your side. You turned to see Chanyeol clamping a hand over his mouth to silence himself.

Your extended hand was left empty for a few seconds until you gasped in surprise when you felt Yixing swat roughly at your hand, refusing to shake, refusing to welcome you and Chanyeol laughed harder. Your hand recoiled from the force of his slap and tingled a little bit from the contact.

“What–” you were genuinely confused. Why was Yixing acting so hostile toward you and why did Chanyeol find it so funny?

Yixing took a step back and away from you, lifted a single hand with two fingers up and roughly thrust them toward his own face, before he thrust his index finger in your direction. It was a warning. Yixing would be watching you. He stormed away, leaving you confused and dumbfounded, surrounded by a group of somewhat drunken men who howled in amusement.

You felt Minseok’s hands on your shoulders and he pulled you into his grasp again, rubbing against your arms lightly you could hear his soft laughter in your ear.

“Don’t worry, he’s drunk and really into his character. Once you take off the horns and the tail he will go back to normal.”

You shrugged it off, trying to take Minseok’s assurance to heart with a small laugh and you were dragged around the party meeting different people. With each new face, and each new drink in your hand you could feel yourself relaxing into this environment. The night was young and many of the guests gave you and Minseok a curious glance, noting the possessive arm he kept around you, or the tight grip of his hand on your own, and you caught a few whispers here and there.

’Minseok’s friend?’

‘Minseok’s girl?’

‘Minseok’s girlfriend?’

You looked around, trying to find the source, only to see the huddled backs of people as they quickly looked away.

“Minseok Hyung! Your girl is looking for you.” There was a man wearing street clothes and a rubber alien mask standing in front of you both and the deep timbre of his voice sounded familiar.

More than the tone of his voice, the words he spoke made you stiffen and you felt the swimming in your head as the words replayed. Whatever drinks you had must have been strong. You were beginning to feel the familiar warmth as the alcohol swam through your body.

“Who?” Minseok spoke to the alien but he looked into your eyes with questions all over his face. A sort of confused innocence that you weren’t quite used to seeing from him.

“Your date. You know, red dress, long black hair, really scary looking if you’re sober.” There wasn’t a single trace of humor in his voice despite the chuckles of laughter you felt vibrating through Minseok’s chest.

“Honeyyy” you heard a high pitched whiney voice sound out from behind you and you spun to find out who would possibly make a sound like that. Anyone with any sense could tell it was a man’s voice, made higher and silly sounding and you looked into the face of Jongdae, Minseok’s best friend and Minhee’s boyfriend, wearing the red dress that had been sitting inside of your closet that very morning. His makeup was thick and gaudy and you saw his eyes widen with instant recognition when he saw you. You could see that his costume was the flashy lady to Minseok’s gangster costume.

“Oh, you came?” The high falsetto was gone and so was Minseok’s hand from yours. It had been so comforting and warm and to have it suddenly removed left you searching for something to hold. Your drink cup would have to do because the two men were suddenly talking to each other in somewhat lowered tones and you found yourself staring in silence at the man in the alien head as the big black eyes of the mask looked back at you.

“Umm..hi, I’m Minseok’s friend,” you offered and you could see the slight movement of his breathing as his chest moved up and down.

“I know who you are.” He said in that same deep voice but you could hear some undertones of kindness just below the short answers. You half wondered what he meant by that. Had your reputation preceded you? Minseok had never once introduced you to his members and you only knew Jongdae in any way that would be considered personal.

You felt his warm fingers grip around your hand and he shook it once.

His other hand lifted the mask just enough for you to peek below and see his face.

“I’m Kyungsoo. It’s nice to meet you.” He said with a sweet smile and the mask was back over his face as he leaned in closer to where you stood.

“You’re the first friend Hyung has introduced to us. I was beginning to think he didn’t have any. It’s nice to know he does. And a girl too,” he laughed mostly to himself and he was turning to move away from the hallway between the living room and the kitchen where you both blocked the way of party goers who were moving around.

“Your drink is gone. I’ll make you another,” Kyungsoo said and you glanced behind you at a still occupied Minseok before following Kyungsoo into the kitchen with a shrug.

The blender whirled and he made cups filled with slushy iced drinks. He handed one to you and a few to others in the room. From the corner of your eye you saw something black and you turned to meet Yixing’s eyes.

He grabbed a drink from the counter and lifted the cup to his face, his eyes glaring in your direction the entire time.

“Umm, look I’m not really a dev–” you said to him with a grimace on your face. Kyungsoo looked between the two of you a few times before he sighed loudly and looked back down at the bottle of margarita mixer that he had been reading.

“Ahhh!” Yixing slammed the cup down onto the countertop in front of him and began to scream loudly as both of his hands reached up to grip the sides of his head.

Heads turned in his direction and you took a tiny step toward him with your hand outstretched. Your polite smile fell a little bit as genuine concern took over your features.

“Brain freeze,” Kyungsoo said and Yixing lifted one of his fingers in your direction.

“Did you do this?” He accused. “Have you frozen my thoughts, you devil?”

You felt someone behind you and goosebumps spread over your scalp as the headband that held your horns was pulled off of your head and a warm hand ran over your waist. You smelled Minseok despite the strong alcohol smell in your drink under your nose and you felt the goosebumps smooth out when he leaned against you.

“Yixing, this is my best friend in the whole world,” he began and you felt cold fingertips at your elbow and your hand was pushed forward in front of the man who seemed to be recovering from his brain freeze now. You heard Minseok say your name and Yixing’s eyes widened in surprise as he smiled a very wide toothy grin and had nearly taken your hand when his eye contact broke and he looked at something behind you.

“Oh my god, a bunny,” he said and you turned to see a girl dressed in a very skimpy white dress with furry rabbit ears on top of her head and a round fluffy tail stuck to her butt. “I love bunnies,” he said as he walked away from your extended hand.

“Hi,” he said to the bunny with the sweetest smile on his face. His dimples popped and you could hear the surprised gasp from her as he cut her off from wherever she had been headed. “I like your tail, do you like my feathers?”

And just like that, he was gone.

Minseok fussed and turned you around, fixing your horns securely back on top of your head with wide eyes and a tiny smile on his lips. Your staring was shameless. His face was so close to you and you could see the tip of his tongue as he licked his bottom lip and fixed your hair around the horns.

When you looked up from his mouth into his eyes he was watching your face as well with a dream like look in his far away eyes. Your movement pulled him out of it and his smile widened as he came to life suddenly.

“There’s a game happening,” he said softly, recognizing the closeness of your faces, a small whisper would do despite the loud thumping bass of the music that played in the home.

“It’s a partner trivia game I think. Jongdae was trying to convince me to play with him but knowing what I know about these people, I don’t think I want him as my partner if we lose.” You could see the question on the tip of his tongue, yet he danced around it expertly, expecting you to supply the answer that he wanted.

It was obvious to you that he wanted you to play with him. Yet something was making him pause and you wondered what in the world would happen if a team were to lose this game.

“I love games,” you said with a grin and his eyes widened marginally as his eyebrows skipped once up his forehead.

“If you want to play with Jongdae, I could ask Kyungsoo,” His hand was gripping yours tightly the second your next thought was out though your lips and you heard a sound from his chest that sounded like a growl.

Minseok was pulling you out of the kitchen suddenly, away from where Kyungsoo stood pouring tequila into rows and rows of shot glasses that he had set up on the counter next to a bowl with lime wedges cut in perfectly uniform sized pieces.

“Kyungs–” Minseok pulled your arm harder and stumbled quickly out of the room. You couldn’t get his name out of your mouth before you yelped in surprise at being handled so roughly.

“No way, you’re mine.” Minseok said with an air of finality. You laughter echoed from the kitchen, to the hallway into a sitting room where a few pairs sat around a Darth Vader holding a stack of cards in an arm chair. You knew this was Junmyeon from your previous introductions and to his left sat a bowl with small squares of paper inside them and to his right, a small black and red button sitting on top of a note pad with a pen. The costume was automated and was emitting a heavy breathing sound as he sat in the center of the room waiting for the game to start.

The sofas in the room were full, and one pair sat on the floor in front of the small center table. Of the pairs playing, you only recognized a single face from your familiarity with the group as Jongin in a pilot costume.

There was an empty arm chair, opposite of Junmyeon in the room and Minseok plopped down quickly onto it, leaving you standing in front of him with your eyebrows lifted in question. It wasn’t that you expected him to give you the chair, but…you had kind of expected him to give you the chair.

You didn’t have that much time to look down at him in disbelief before you felt his hand grip yours and he pulled you down onto him, making you sit directly on his lap. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable seat and you shifted a bit, trying to find the spot where you wouldn’t feel like you were about to fall off onto the floor. You had to move closer to him if you were going to be comfortable playing this game.

The moment you shifted more onto him you knew you had made some sort of mistake. His hand landed over your thigh and you had to wrap an arm around his shoulder, behind his neck. Had you known you would find yourself on his lap, perhaps you would not have worn such a short skirt. You’d expected that hand of his to leave once you finally stopped wiggling in his lap, but he kept it there, pressing down firmly to try and get you to stop moving so much.

Your arm was still wrapped around his shoulders and the warmth and closeness of his body beneath you brought with it, its own storm that surged inside your chest. When you looked into his face, he looked into yours, quietly watching your eyes despite the noise and commotions happening around you from the party events.

“You need to stop wiggling so much, love,” Minseok whispered against your ear, “or I won’t be able to stand back up.”

He dug his fingers into the flesh of your thigh and you stilled when you felt the heat in your skin. The blush that began at the back of your neck crept up quickly, making you certain your cheeks were blushed and you bit down on your bottom lip hard, willing your body to settle itself.

His eyes ticked down to your mouth and he quickly looked away. The pink in the tips of his ears and the quiet curse he mumbled under his breath told you just how dangerous this situation was becoming.

The alcohol in your body told you that you were allowed to enjoy your friend’s company like this. There was no harm in playing silly games with him, laughing and giggling as you sat on his lap. He felt nice. He smelled nice. He looked nice and his eyes lit up in delight when you shouted out a correct answer with confidence. You had a bit of an advantage in the science questions, but you seriously came up blank with many of the pop questions. When you answered something wrong you could feel his soft giggles against your back along with the warmth of his hand on your thigh that squeezed down lightly. He had to be drunk. His touches were becoming much more frequent and bolder as the game went on and you wondered if anyone else could see just how far up your thigh that hand seemed to be moving.

Minseok also seemed more distracted than usual, but perhaps he was just too drunk for trivia. He spent many of the rounds silent with his other hand running along the small of your back where no one could see, tracing slow circles with his fingertips along your spine. Every now and when he would hit a ticklish spot and you would squirm away from his hands, but you always found yourself leaning back into him.

You lost the game. Minseok hardly answered a single question and when you saw the totals you slumped back into him in defeat with a pout on your face.

The punishment bowl was passed around for all except the group who placed first and you heard groans as pairs were forced to do things like sexy dances or write their names with their butts.

When the bowl with the papers inside reached your spot you reached in and pulled out the first paper you touched. You peeked inside the fold and quickly folded the paper back up with a grimace.

Do body shots off each other

You felt the eyes of the others in the room on you and even below you Minseok stiffened as he craned his neck over your shoulder to see what the punishment read.

You felt a tug against the paper secured in your fingertips and you gave, echoing inside your chest, the same low groan you heard in his chest when he read it.

As his eyes drifted upward from the paper to meet yours, your breath caught midway into your lungs.

He tapped twice against your back, low enough to be considered your ass and you lifted yourself off of his lap as you wandered away from the scene.

Maybe you could just keep walking? Maybe Kyungsoo needed some help cutting limes in the kitchen. Maybe the video game in the living room had a free controller that you could commandeer.

You only took three steps just a bit out the path of that kitchen when you paused due to a tall body stopped in your tracks.

“The shots are over there.” It was Jongin, fresh off his punishment involving a sexy strip tease that honestly did not feel like it was different enough from the man’s day job to even be considered a punishment.

“Minseok Hyung’s doing a body shot!” Someone shouted from somewhere in the kitchen and you reluctantly turned your feet back toward the commotion.

“Oh shit! Did he get it?” Chanyeol shouted from another room and you felt as if you were a piece of livestock that was being herded into the slaughter house with the way they moved around you.

On the other side of the kitchen bar stood Minseok wearing a blank expression on his face as he watched Kyungsoo fill up two shot glasses with the bottom contents of the bottle of tequila you saw before the game. A salt shaker and two lime wedges were carefully added to the array and you gritted your teeth and steeled your resolve.

It was just a shot. You’d done plenty of shots before.

Sure, Minseok would be involved and there would be some tongues but it was just a shot right? You felt like a nervous college student all over again as Minseok looked into your face and raised a balled up fist at his chest level.

“Rock paper scissors. Loser goes first,” he said and he was pumping his fist three times before you had a chance to even think about which you would play. It didn’t matter that you still had your fist balled tightly because he played scissors and you won. You weren’t about to tell him that you hadn’t even been ready.

You grabbed a shot glass and held it in a hand, grabbing the lime wedge in your other and you waited. Perhaps they’d let you get away with just holding them.

A single eyebrow lift from your partner in punishment told you it was a no go and you sighed as you looked down at the space between your breasts. Where your bra pushed them together just at the rather tight neckline of the red devil’s dress you wore and you carefully wedged the cool glass in between, extra slowly so you didn’t spill any of the cold liquid down your skin.

When you looked back up, minseok was watching you a bit too closely with the salt shaker in his hand.

“Uhh…” he said as he moved a bit closer to where you stood.

“Just do it already Hyung!” You recognized Chanyeol’s voice and the loud booming sound brought your attention away from the pinkness in his cheeks and they nervous way he licked his lips with his eyes on the skin of your chest.

The crowd cheered a bit with Chanyeol’s urging and Minseok leaned in to you. There was a warm puff of air from his mouth as he descended on your chest and you felt the warmth wetness of his tongue as he slowly licked a path along the top of your left breast. You tried as hard as you could to keep still, if only for the sake of the full shot of tequila ready to spill should you react in any way to what this man was doing to you.

He shook the salt over the moistened skin, keeping his gaze low, almost obvious in his avoidance of your eyes.

You lifted the lime to your lips, holding the rind in place with your teeth and he moved quickly, licking the salt off your chest, moving his mouth to the shot glass between your breasts, he wrapped lips around and lifted his head back quickly, expertly tossing the liquor into the back of his throat before moving into your vision for the lime.

You flinched at his approach and you felt a familiar hand grip the back of your neck as he pulled you into him. It must have been the alcohol that made your brain go fuzzy at the sign of minseok moving into your mouth with his own lips parted because when he carefully plucked the lime from between your teeth and vanished without so much as a brush of his lips against yours you felt…. disappointed.

The wetness on your skin cooled in the air of the kitchen and shouts and giggles sounded out around you. Minseok laughed, as any good sport would and tossed the lime away into the countertop behind him.

Why did you feel so disappointed? How could he have escaped your lips so easily? You must be drunk on him by now. Memories of his fingers running circles along your spine and hot palms resting higher and higher on your thigh as you sat on his lap were playing over and over in your mind and Minseok was pulling at the necktie he wore around his neck now with a darker more mischievous look in those striking eyes now.

You watched as he slowly unbuttoned the dress shirt down to the top of the vest he wore, exposing the smooth firm skin of his chest. This time wouldn’t work standing up. Feeling rather bold, you reached your fingertips toward him and gave a light shove back, toward the empty kitchen chair that sat at a table behind him.

Minseok grabbed the shot and the lime and fell back into the chair, leaning back as far as he could he placed the shot glass securely between his thighs, high enough that you were sure the maneuver would spark something inside of you as you did it. Surely you were imagining the definition in his thigh muscles that you could see below the fabric of his slacks. Why did the fabric need to pull and bunch like that? Why did his thigh muscles have to flex and tense like that when he held the tiny shot glass between his legs.

The feeling you felt with his hands on you as you sat in his lap, the feeling you felt in the kitchen as you watched his face and his lips too closely was creeping back into your body and there was a commotion behind you as laughter and cheering rang out again because you had that salt shaker in your hand and you were going to get this damn body shot done and over with already.

Minseok stared at you as you moved and slowly lifted the lime to his mouth, holding it in place, he dropped his hands to his lap and he waited.

When you licked the smooth skin of his chest you felt the stiffening in his body below you. He was warm and he smelled amazing. The salt stuck and you felt your balance shifting and trembling as you hovered. This was harder than you thought it would be and your tight dress constricted your movement.

You stumbled a bit. Fuck it, you would just have to touch him. Perhaps this was what made body shots fun. You laid both hands on his chest as you brought your tongue down again for the salt, you slid down his body, using your hands as a guide as you moved over him to his crotch, you bent at the waist, knowing full well he could see down your top like this, knowing that your nose brushed against his zipper and feeling the stiffening of his thighs as you wrapped your lips around the tip of the shot glass.

Maybe you should have kept your eyes down like he did. Maybe you should not have looked up into his face as you did it. If you hadn’t been looking at him you might have missed that look in his eyes. The familiar look that had enough power in it to pull you down to the bottom of the ocean of Kim Minseok.

But you looked and you saw. A split second before you threw your head back and felt the burn of the alcohol as it slipped down your throat you saw and you knew.

When you came back down, dropping the shot glass down at your feet like an afterthought, your body moved over him, this time instantly releasing whatever silly reservations you had about touching MInseok, you had touched him plenty of times. You sat down on his lap, your thighs wide and open over his waist and you felt those hands on your thighs. Whether to steady your drunken movements, or because he was powerless to fight this you would never know, but he touched you and you leaned in for that lime. The darkness in his eyes watched as you moved, the bright green of the fruit ready to calm some of the burning at the back of your throat from the alcohol.

When you closed that final distance between his mouth and yours, you caught movement. Something green fell out of his lips and Minseok leaned in to you, meeting you halfway, you felt his mouth on your mouth, his lips on your lips.

You felt stunned for a moment before your body responded. Minseok’s kiss moved against yours and his hands that had landed over your thighs moved and tightened as he pulled you into him. He angled his head and parted his jaw and you felt the softness of his tongue, still tasting like sour lime from his own shot earlier, you tasted the alcohol too. You were sure he could taste the liquor on your tongue with the way he pulled your lip in between his own, sucking and biting lightly in that desperate way Minseok kissed you sometimes. When he really missed you, when you really missed him and you took from him as much as he took from you.

“Oh shit,” you heard someone curse quietly next to you and your mind whirled at the sound. Minseok heard it too and pulled back from the kiss, his hands that held you instantly fell to his side as you registered just how quiet the room had become.

You scrambled off his lap. Your breathing was hard and fast and your legs moved too sluggishly as your mind glazed over from the alcohol and from what had just happened.

“Umm,” Someone was trying to find a response. You met a few curious eyes, a few of which quickly looked away, while others merely stared in surprise and Minseok was standing to his feet with an awkward clearing of his throat.

When you turned on your feet, needing some sort of exit from this you bumped into someone who stood directly behind you, obviously someone who had seen the kiss.

“Wow,” Instead of a look of surprise, Yixing wore a look of wonder and amusement and you could see a far away look in his eyes as he blinked slowly and looked back and forth between you and Minseok. “Best friends? Awesome.”

He was then searching through the home, looking through faces until his smile widened and he found who he sought out.

“Bunny!” He was moving through a small crowd of people. “Bunny do you want to be my best friend?”

Yixing’s bunny didn’t reply to the question because her focus was on something that was happening in the living room. You weren’t sure what it was that had pulled her attention so completely but you heard a shout, an angry sounding shout that pulled the focus of others in the home away from a flushed faced Minseok who wiped at his lips, and toward the living room.

You heard the anger boom up like a storm when the music was cut off and when you moved to bring the scene into your view you could see the red tense face of Baekhyun, a member you knew Minseok was working closely with because of the subunit, only his usual happy countenance was angrier than you had ever seen him. From the tone and the volume he used you knew, even in your drunken state, that what was happening was serious and not just some trivial drunken party event.

You heard an accusation. A woman messing with his relationship, with his love and you saw the motion of his hands to the couch where someone sat hunched against Sehun’s shoulder with an arm wrapped around her costume. The costume stuck out, as it was a giant foam hot dog. A silly thing thrust into a serious situation lost all of its comedy.

Baekhyun had a love. Baekhyun was fighting to protect that love.

Jongdae also had a love.

Minseok had… you spin on your heels searching for his eyes. Desperate to find some comfort in them or at least some familiarity in this tense situation but you found nothing. Strangers with the focus still on the drama with the man and his hot dog, who was very drunk from what you half paid attention to. She was carried out of the room and the look in his eyes was enough to convince you that love, genuine real love was possible in this life.

The pang against your ribcage, your heart that begged for an audience annoyed you enough to pound lightly against your chest a couple of times.

Minseok had been scared.

Jongdae and Baekhyun had faced those fears and Minseok had run away from them.

What would you find now in those eyes? Would he still be running?

He had told you that he loved you already. You knew it was true but would he push that back down inside his belly buried beneath the years of apprehension and uncertainty. Layered under the guise of fame and risk of discovery? Where had he gone? Was he embarrassed about the kiss witnesses by so many? Was he ashamed that his drunken moment of weakness had an audience and now bit’s and pieces of his secret could be found out should someone wish to dig deeper?

Did he care enough to snub you for the rest of the night?

You spun, giving the room a second or two extra to catch up to you and bumped against something soft and feathery.

It was Yixing again, although you noticed he stumbled a little more than before. His careful charade cracking some with the long evening of drinking having worn on him, he merely grabbed you by your shoulders to steady you, or perhaps to steady himself and gave you a small smile.

“Hyung doesn’t like so many people sometimes. He probably went outside.” Yixing’s words slurred together some but you understood enough. Only it took you a moment to realize that off of the kitchen was a sliding glass door with what seemed to be a balcony that overlooked the city.

Perhaps he wanted to be alone.

You stared at the glass, watching your own reflection in the surface with blurry lights from the city overlayed in the reflected image. From the spot where you stood staring at the door you couldn’t see any signs of Minseok.

Your image stared back at you for a long while, chewing on your lip, faded red lipstick that matched your dress was long gone with the drinks and of course with that kiss.

You felt something tickle against your side.

In the glass you could see him standing next to you again, looking at the same reflection in the glass. You felt the warmth of Yixing’s arm as he wrapped it lightly around your shoulder.

“You aren’t so many people, you know. Hyung would probably be okay with just you.”

He let go as soon as you turned to look at him and gave a little push at your back. The little push your stubborn legs needed to move and you pulled at the door slowly, just enough to peek your head through the opening and peer outside.

Minseok sat at the far end of a long balcony, curled over himself in a wide round deck chair with his head in his lap and blonde hair covered by interlinked hands.

The silence of the party, remnants of the drama with Baekhyun meant he must not have heard when you opened the door. You slid the glass opened further and stepped outside into the cool night air. Frankly it was refreshing. The alcohol in your blood made your skin hot and sticky and after the heated kiss you could use something to cool you down some.

Your steps were light, bare feet dancing over cool concrete and he didn’t flinch until you were right beside him, bumping against his knee with your thigh to get his attention.

Minseok was too drunk to jump in surprise. All you got out of him for all of your careful sleuthing was a quiet gasp of surprise, wide beautiful eyes, and flushed cheeks.

His blonde hair was a mess. He had probably been pulling at it in some sort of frustrated fit at having been so weak in such a public way.

Whatever product he wore in his hair had made it stick up in all directions with a flat bit at the crown of his head where his hands had rested.

The man was an infuriatingly handsome mess.

“Shit,” he whispered into the quiet of the night, “you scared me.”

The balcony was up high enough that despite the hustle of the city nightlife clearly happening in the city below, the sounds were far away to be a distant hum of white noise on the wind. Why he felt the need to whisper you didn’t know but it must have been contagious because you felt yourself covering your mouth to quiet a small giggle.

“It’s just me,” you said with a smile on your lips.

Why did you feel so good? Minseok watched your face for a moment as he leaned back into the chair he occupied, his hands fell against his hips and his legs patrted in front of him.

He didn’t return your smile. He watched you with a curiously stoic expression that had you giggling inside your chest.

He felt suddenly serious. So much more so than he had the entire evening and the thought made you want to laugh and dance and tease him.

Appropriateness could go to hell. You had your best friend back and he sat here within your reach with intense eyes, messed up hair and something burning in his lips. Something that he wanted to say, you were certain of it at this point.

The big round deck chair swayed a bit when you plopped yourself down and leaned back inside next to, and just a bit on top of him. You fell into it, giving in to that pesky strong gravity and the curve of the chair it was working with and you could feel the firmness of his chest below your hands as you tried to give him a little bit of space.

This chair wasn’t meant to be shared in a strictly platonic way. You would just have to give up this fight. So you did. Your head lolled to the side, against his shoulder and you could feel the skin of his neck against your cheek. You could feel the beat of his heart as he shifted and wrapped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you further into him. Your legs were impossible to untangle and would just have to live this way, laying over his strong thighs like this. He could take your weight just fine.

You giggled your way through your struggles and he grunted a few times but let you sit with him…on him again, it seemed.

When Minseok finally spoke it was a long while after your giggles had settled and you felt hypnotized by his steady breathing and the warmth from his body. When he finally spoke it was the sound of your name in a soft whisper and it didn’t have to travel far. Your ear was right beside where his lips had spoken.

You let out a single soft hum. Letting him know you were present enough to hear and to respond. You were here and he was here and you had your best friend back.

When he said your name again you let it dance over your ear drum. Its melody and his voice coaxed you into his world and you hummed again. Once more. A little louder this time, urging him to speak or to sing or to say your name again and again all night long until the sun came up and you could see the soft light coating his pretty face and his messed up hair as the birds began to sing.

“What would you do if I told you I love you?”

You watched the sparkle of the city lights and you let your fingertips trail over his chest, lightly dancing their way along the buttons of his vest as you absentmindedly fiddled.

The silence in your lips was soft. It was comfort and you knew that the question he asked wasn’t something he needed any answers for. Not right away. You let out another soft hum and wiggled your head against his chest to listen to his steady heart beating.

“Do you?” You whispered against his chest, speaking more to his heart than to his head up above.

The hum of a response came from Minseok this time and you smiled into the night.

“Well then I would tell you that I love you too, Minnie.” You pinched at the buttons of his vest and the sound of his breathing halted as he went still for a moment.

“Do you?” He mirrored your question only you could tell that much of the lightness of your delivery had been lost in the seriousness of his mood.

When you hummed again, his hand moved, reaching for the spot where yours played with his buttons and you felt him pulling your hand upward, close to his face.

The softness of his lips pressed against your fingertips and the fluttering you felt in your belly pulsed and came to life again.

“Will you ever let me touch you again?” The soft question sounded absurd when it reached your ears as he pulled your hand higher placing delicate kisses along the back of your hand before he turned it over and pressed his lips against the fold of your palm.

“You are touching me now,” you began but heard a small sound of dissent from him. You felt a head shake into your palm and you shifted up higher so you could turn and see his face again.

“Not like this. Not this easy touching. I mean the kind that’s scary. The kind that goes deeper and is fucking terrifying because there’s no going back from it.”

Minseok gripped your hand tighter as he spoke and you felt an increase in his breathing with his words. Your mind swam and you swallowed a few times as you attempted to make sense of the questions he was asking you.

What was he saying? What exactly was Minseok trying to get permission for? He wanted you to let him back into your heart. To the place that has been badly injured by his carelessness and past mistakes so he could what?

So he could do what?

He shifted beside you. The fire in his eyes grew bolder the longer he looked into your face and you felt his arms reach for you as he shifted and pulled you around.

He wanted you to face him. The chair swayed and you gave in and moved where you could see his face fully and he could see yours and when you climbed over his legs you found yourself straddling his thighs for the third time tonight. You braced your hands against his chest and his palms rested over your legs that curled easily at his sides.

“I love you,” he said with his eyes wide on yours and you felt the words sink in deep. You closed your eyes when they sank, hitting hard against the careful walls you had spent so much time and energy on getting a tight fit for each stone.

With your eyes closed you released a breath and with the breath you felt a prickle behind your closed eyelids. When you tried to breathe in again your lungs hiccuped and stalled.

Minseok said your name and the weight of it on his tongue rolled off quickly and slammed against the stones sending sparks flying.

His hand touched your cheek, warm and light in pressure and you opened your eyes slowly, finding those same intense eyes begging for yours to listen.

“I said I love you,” he said, his voice no longer a delicate whisper but a bold statement with not a thread of doubt woven in its fabric.

“So what are you going to do?”

2AM [M] - Canon AU - Angst / Smut part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

[dong-hyucks]

Intellectual ; Hyuk [final!part]

Characters: Hyuk (Sanghyuk) / Reader / ft. VIXX Genre: Angst, College AU A/N: i’m sorry this took so long!! Enjoy :) also!! There is swearing involved but it’s quite minor

Masterlists || 1 | 2 | 3 |

   “What was that?” you asked upon sitting down. When you didn’t receive an answer, you shrugged him off, taking a sip of your coffee.

   You really didn’t understand Han Sanghyuk.    

   After the incident at the VIXX Café. you had begun to watch Sanghyuk more closely. He had changed-- he wasn’t the standoffish, unbearable man you were partnered up with anymore. Somewhere along the line, he had become someone else. To you, he looks softer somehow. As if all of his bold, sharp edges melted to reveal whomever he was inside. It was strange, lack of a better word. You weren’t yet used to the small smiles he’d send you, the lingering glances you’d notice in class, the sudden rise of conversation. 

   You had even gone to ask his friends if something was happening in Sanghyuk’s mysterious life-- mysterious to you, anyhow. It took you a while to muster even a bout of courage of any kind, as whenever you neared his friends something would tell you to turn and walk away. You weren’t sure if it was because of fear -- the possibility that they may, and most probably would, tell Sanghyuk you were asking about him -- or because they seemed to always be around Sanghyuk.

   Now that you think about it, it was most likely both.

   The day you finally went up to his group of companions, it was several days after you made the initial choice to ask about Sanghyuk. You blamed it on your cowardice, which was true for the most part.

   You found them lounging outside campus, sitting in what could be considered a semi-circle if you squinted. The bunch of them -- excluding Sanghyuk, for you knew he was inside taking an exam (an exam for a subject that you had been lucky enough to know quite well, so you finished long before him) -- sat idling, completely unaware of your approaching presence. You could recognize a majority of the few, only one face unfamiliar to your eyes.

   When you walked up to them, you could feel your legs trembling with dismay. Why you dreaded the confrontation so much, you hadn’t a single clue. Something about the entire situation just threw you off. As you neared the group, you paused, took a deep breath, before tapping the nearest male -- someone you recognized as Hakyeon. He jumped slightly, something you smiled slightly at, before turning around. Upon setting his eyes on you, a small smile of recognition graced his features. “[Y/N],” he greeted, easily gaining the attention of the three others, “You’re out early. Or is Hyuk just that slow?”

   You had the sense to laugh, albeit the noise coming out small and weak. Clearing your throat, after smiling at each of the men that stood behind Hakyeon, you proceeded with the entire reason why you had gone up to them in the first place. As you spoke, you cursed yourself for sounded so unsure of yourself. “About Sanghyuk, is something… up with him?”

   Behind Hakyeon, the mystery man arched a single -- perfectly trimmed, might you add -- eyebrow. “Up?” he questioned.

   Your cheeks burned for but a moment, embarrassment striking you because of your choice of words. “He’s been acting strange lately. Odd,” you elaborated. “His personality has done a 180 and I was wondering if something was going on in his life. You know, should I be concerned?” Your eyes scanned each of their faces as they exchanged glances of droll. Your curiosity piqued. You shifted your weight, leaning on your right leg.

   Wonshik was the first to speak up. “Nothing to be concerned about,” he chuckled. “Just Hyuk being Hyuk, is all. He’s probably just showing you his true colours.” Before he could say much else, Hongbin elbowed him gently, shaking his head subtly. The minute exchange between the two was intriguing but your vacillating voice remained swallowed and choked up within your throat. Hongbin, noticing your hesitant expression, smiled warmly.

   “He’s right,” he began, brushing off his past action by leaning back against the campus gate, “there really is nothing to worry about. Hyuk, he can seem odd at times-- he’ll act one way for one minute and then the next he acts like a different person.” Hongbin shrugged leisurely. “It depends on who he’s with, really. If he’s acting differently now, he’s probably just warmed up to you.”

   You merely nodded, still unbelieving. Their words, they seemed far too scripted, their actions far too stiff to be natural. Perhaps you were just psycho-analyzing things. Maybe, maybe not. Pursing your lips, you offered the four a forced gracious smile. “Thanks for clearing things up,” you lied straight through your teeth. If anything, you were left with more questions than you had come with. The four of them, they weren’t acting as care-free as you’ve seen around campus. Your eyes wandered to the man, the one who stood in the midst of them all. “It was nice meeting you,” you trailed off, unaware of what the man’s name actually was.

   “Jaehwan. Nice to meet you too, [Y/N].”

   You blinked, almost forgetting that Hakyeon had mentioned your name moments before. With another smile, you spun on your heel and made your way further and further from campus. Your head spun with question upon question. Something was off with Sanghyuk and something else was going on between his friends. That something, whatever it may be, you could tell they wouldn’t tell you. You shook your head, brushing forelocks of hair out of your face. The action was seemingly useless as the wind that flew by you, caressing you gently with its cold hands, blew them back to their original position. Letting out a sigh, you continued to walk unbothered.

   That night, as you lay in bed clad in your pyjamas, you stared up at your crisp white ceiling. It was peculiar, just how much you’ve thought about Sanghyuk in the past week. The last time you had thought about the male so vehemently was all those years back, in high school. As the thought wandered into your already jumbled mind, you shot up in bed, the sudden movement making the rusted bolts of your bed frame creak against the metal bars.

   No, no, no, you repeated silently, your eyes widening as the thought processed. You smacked your cheeks lightly with stiff fingers, screwing your eyes shut. Your entire body was still, aside from your quivering hands. You refused to acknowledge the possibility, shaking your head from side to side as you leant over. Your breath hitched, tears springing to your eyes as memories of high school came flooding back. Memories of Sanghyuk glancing over at you, eyes shrouded with disfavour, memories of his lips curling as he sneered at you, his usual teasings and mocking names spouting from his mouth like a volcano spouts plumes of ash and lava.

  No.

   Hours would pass as you stayed in the same, dreadful position. The hands on the clock would move slowly, a loud ticking noise accompanying its every movement, blaring in your ears. Time seemed endless that night, the darkness of the room imprisoning you within its tight grasp, trapping you to the bed to drown in your thoughts. That night, sleep did not come easy.

   No, not at all.

   A few hours later, there was a knock at your door. You called for whomever stood behind it with a soft voice, your eyes still trained on the foot of your bed. You watched as your mother stepped into your room tentatively, as if she were walking on eggshells. As she sat on the edge of your bed, a sad look on her face, you slowly began to come back to the real world, your trance broken.

   Her lips moved, sound came from her throat. You almost couldn’t hear her over the deafening clock. It seemed louder in that moment than it ever had before. Your body froze as she leaned over, whispering apology and apology into your blanket covered hands. Your mind barely processed her words, but it wasn’t long before they were echoing loudly, louder than your clock. It seemed as though the two simple words were etched onto the inside of your eyelids.

   It made sense, although you wished it hadn’t. You wished that she was just pulling a joke on you, as she did from time to time. You wished upon every star you saw for the next while. At least, now you knew why she was always counting her change late at night, when she thought you were in bed, sound asleep.

   Days, weeks even, had passed since that fateful night. In that time period, you were slowly accepting what had hit you so abruptly. A small smile played your lips like a violin, graceful yet attention-grabbing. Your peers must’ve noticed your chipper mood as you walked into the classroom, smiling down at your shoes. You ignored them and their whispers. You didn’t have a care for what they had to say. For once, you thought, for once maybe I can be free and just enjoy myself. Even if it’s just for a little while.

   As you walked up the steps to your seat, you met eyes with Sanghyuk. He smiled at your for but a second before averting his eyes to the paper in front of him. Beside him, Hongbin whispered something inaudible to your ears. Whatever he had uttered made Sanghyuk react quite visibly, for he shot up and practically tackled Hongbin. At least, as much as you can tackle someone in a sitting position.

   Staring down at your scuffed up sneakers as you reached your seat, your once small smile had bloomed into a big grin, a small and quiet, yet genuine, laugh escaping your lips. Unbeknownst to you, Chaerin caught the almost mute noise. Her mouth bowed into a frown, her eyes moving from your pleased form to Sanghyuk’s. She shone almost visibly, her light dull and sorrowful. Her heart ached as she watched Sanghyuk laugh along to one of Hongbin’s jokes.

   Sanghyuk, he made her happy just by being, well, Sanghyuk. The mere presence of the male was enough to bring a smile to her face and enough to get her heart racing. Her eyes trailed up the stairs to you, you who had begun to take your supplies out. It wasn’t fair. She had loved Sanghyuk since her high school days. She saw him differently from how others saw him. Her friends saw him as a bully, but she saw him as the sun in human form. Sure, he could be a bit mean and rough on the edges, but in the end-- wasn’t everyone like that? She always felt that way. In her eyes, it was so unfair, the way you managed to capture Sanghyuk’s attention within a few weeks when she couldn’t even do so in a few years. 

   Chaerin twisted in her seat, staring down at her neatly written notes with an expression that drooped with melancholy. She could vividly remember how she had met Sanghyuk, despite it having happened many years prior. It was as if it only happened yesterday. She could still remember the way he shined, despite being absolutely drenched in rain.

   Chaerin sat in a dark alley, her head dropped to her knees as sobs wracked her body almost violently. She could barely feel the harsh rain pelting her bare skin, her ruffled uniform getting soaked with cold water. The rain dripped down the sides of her face and over the bump of her nose, easily concealing her tears. Her right leg shook, the rain merciless against the scrape on her knee. No amount of physical pain would amount to the hurt that had just been afflicted to her.

   What had she done to deserve this? She couldn’t come up with a liable answer, each one sounding more and more preposterous.

   Just moments before, she had caught her friends sneaking into their homeroom, deviously typing away at the teacher’s desktop. “What are you doing?” she had asked in a slow manner, her movements stilled upon opening the door to the classroom. Her friends froze for only a moment, the three exchanging nervous glances. Furrowing her brows, Chaerin moved across the room to look over her friend’s shoulder. Before either of the three could hide the screen, Chaerin had already seen what they were looking at. “Those are exam answers,” Chaerin stated in disbelief. What they had been doing was obvious, even to the most oblivious of folk. The entire school was to hold final exams in a mere day’s time. “You’re going to cheat?”

   The first friend, almost the leader of the group, scoffed. “What does it look like, Rin?” she, Hyesun, retorted. “Are you going to help us or what? You’d be a lifesaver if you could keep watch.”

   Chaerin felt disgusted. “Help you? This could get you expelled, Hyesun.” She looked over at the other two, Eunhae and Minseo, with raised brows. “You’re really going along with this?”

   Eunhae rolled her eyes. “Come on, Chaerin. Don’t be such a downer, it’s just a little cheating. We can’t get expelled if we don’t get caught.” Beside her, Minseo nodded in agreement. Chaerin merely stared at them with an ajar mouth. Disbelief filled her entire being, her heart racing. She could feel herself breaking out into a cold sweat as she glanced between the three girls.

   With the shake of her head, Chaerin slowly backed up before retreating out of the room. Upon leaving the class, she surveyed the corridor for any signs of a teacher or supervisor. Hyesun must’ve noticed, because she quickly stomped over to Chaerin, turning her around with a violent tug on her shoulder. Ignoring Chaerin’s gasp of pain, Hyesun shoved Chaerin against the nearest wall. “Don’t you dare, Chaerin,” she spat, pointing a finger in Chaerin’s face. “I know what you’re trying to do. Don’t be such a bitch.”

   Chaerin tried to move away, only for Hyesun to shove her again. This time, Chaerin’s legs gave out, causing her to come tumbling to the tiled flooring. She winced as her knee rubbed against the surface, pain throbbing from the area. She looked down and saw small drops of blood already emerging from the surface wound. Glancing up at the three whom she thought she could call sisters, Chaerin blinked away tears. Eunhae and Minseo avoided eye contact, their eyes glueing to a spot on the wall.

   Hyesun stepped forward, pulling Chaerin up from the collar of her uniform, her rough movements causing the feeble button to come off. An embarrassed burn blazed through Chaerin’s face as she attempted to cover up the slight exposure, but Hyesun’s clenched fists were in the way. “If you tell anyone,” she began threateningly, “you’ll wish you were never born.”

   With that, Hyesun let go, practically shoving Chaerin back onto the floor. As they retreated back into the classroom, closing the door behind them, Chaerin lay there, shaking. Her eyes focused on the simple white button that had fallen a mere foot away from her. Hot tears welled up in her eyes before travelling down her cheeks. She got up with a stagger, rushing out of the school. She turned into a narrow alleyway, leaning against the dirty brick wall before collapsing to the ground. Mere seconds later, it began to rain.

   After excruciatingly long minutes of painful sobs, Chaerin felt the rain stop. She looked up, glancing at the wall across from her through her wet fringe. It was still pouring, she could hear it. She felt something drape across her shoulders, the warmth of whatever it was greatly contrasting against the frigid cold rain. Only then did she notice the dirty black converses in her peripheral view. Her eyes trailed up from the black shoes to the familiar uniform until they stopped on a new face.

   The boy in front of her wore a worried expression. Despite wearing her school’s uniform, she had never seen him before. “Are you okay?” he pondered, his voice quiet yet smooth. Chaerin swallowed thickly, her heart skipping a beat. “What happened?” He began to frown. Without even realizing, Chaerin talked. She talked about everything-- from what had just occurred to her overall ‘friendship’ with the three girls.

   Chaerin realized something that night. As she talked the male had listened. He never interrupted, he didn’t look bored. She hadn’t felt so cared about in a long time. He made her heart race and she didn’t even know his name.

   The next day, when she returned to class late with a shameful look and a ruined uniform, she noticed the absence of the three girls. Odd-- despite being as troublesome as they were, they weren’t the type to skip. At that moment, she made eye contact with a familiar face. The same one who had comforted her without even uttering a single word.

   That day, she learned his name. And on that day, she found someone who made her elated.

   “Im Chaerin.”

   Chaerin’s head snapped up, the sudden, booming voice breaking out of her reverie with a jump. She met the eyes of her displeased professor, her cheeks burning with mortification. Her eyes instinctively glanced over in Sanghyuk’s direction. He was looking over, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Her eyes snapped back to Mr Yoon’s when he tapped the surface of her wooden desk. “Since you seem to be paying so much attention, why don’t you tell the entire class what an epigraph is.” The smile on his face seemed to mock her entirely.

   Chaerin gulped, her mind racing. She could vaguely remember learning about epigraphs in her ninth year, but the definition was just barely out of her grasp, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. She sputtered an almost incoherent response, one that made most of her peers look down at their notes in mocking amusement. Her hands shook underneath the table, nervousness covering her like a blanket would on a cold wintry day.

   “A phrase,” a small voice began. Chaerin looked over her shoulder, her frown deepening when she met eyes with you. “A phrase or quotation that’s found in the beginning of a piece in which the reader is shown words from a different author for either comparison or to generate a specific context.” Anger bubbled just underneath the surface. Your carefree expression made Chaerin see red.

   Chaerin glanced over at Sanghyuk again and her heart dropped. He was smiling.

   Mr Yoon looked up at you, a barely noticeable smile crossing his lips. “Good. Someone was paying attention.” He cleared his throat, making his way back to his desk. “Now, as you know, the semester is coming to an end, and so is your post-secondary life.” A small bout of cheers erupted from random corners of the room. “Just a reminder that your projects are expected to be handed into me by tomorrow evening. Any later will be considered a zero.” Leaning against his desk, he continued, “And if you want to graduate, I suggest handing it in.”

   The rest of the class went by like a blur for you, your mind reeling. You and Sanghyuk had finished the project the night before, all that was to do is editing. A small frown etched itself onto your features, your eyebrows knitting together. You looked down a few rows, at Sanghyuk. You wondered what would happen as the days passed. Despite starting out rough, you and Sanghyuk had grown somewhat close. With the project coming to an end, would your kind-of-friendship grow? Or would Sanghyuk just throw you to the side once the whole thing was over?

   You didn’t want to think about it. The inevitable. Instead, you bowed your head and typed down whatever you could hear Mr Yoon babbling about.

   That night, Sanghyuk came around to your house. You had waited almost ten minutes for his arrival, staring at an open document as you tapped your foot anxiously. You nearly sprinted to the door when you heard a small rapping against its tough surface. When you did, your breath caught in your throat, as it did every other time you caught sight of Sanghyuk.

   You almost hated yourself for falling into the pit that is Sanghyuk, but it wasn’t like you could help it. After all, you had tried so hard to stop yourself once you realized you were slowly falling for him again. Those tries, in the end, were futile. “Hey,” you greeted in a casual manner, opening the door wider so he could enter. Sanghyuk nodded with a smile, entering your home graciously. You waited as he slipped off his shoes before walking up with him to your room. You heard your mom greet Sanghyuk from the living room, to which he replied back politely.

   Once you were sat in your room, Sanghyuk began to read your novella out loud, a process the two of you had agreed to go through to edit. Every now and then, you’d pipe in and correct something that sounded erroneous aloud. It took an astonishing two hours to completely go over and edit everything, format and all. By the time Sanghyuk reached the final paragraph, you noticed his voice slowed.

   “‘He stared out the window, a heartbroken smile plastered on his face. It was as if his mouth had been stitched into a false smile, permanently stuck in that position no matter his emotion. He watched, his heart wrenching, as the one person he saw as his sun, the one who held his hand as he walked the gravelly path of life, the one who he grew to love, walked away. His light dimmed, encasing him in total darkness once again.’” Your hands stilled over your keyboard, your eyebrows knitting together. Worry was apparent in your features as you looked over to Sanghyuk.

   “Is something wrong?” you asked, concerned. “You sound gloomy.” Sanghyuk glanced over at you before looking down at his hands nervously. Something within you stirred when he finally looked you in the eye. You felt flustered beyond belief with the way he was looking at you as if you were the most breathtaking person to walk the earth. And, to him, you truly were. “Hyuk?” You flushed at the nickname, despite it being one he used quite often. A few days prior, he had requested you call him that, rather than Sanghyuk. ‘Sanghyuk makes you sound distant with me.’ he had said.

   Without warning, he began to lean in closer. Your heart began to race. Suddenly, everything was dull, blurry. Everything but Sanghyuk. He appeared in your vision perfectly clear despite the way your head swirled. You felt your hands getting warmer and warmer the closer he got, your throat feeling tight as you swallowed thickly.

   “May I?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your cheeks. Your eyelids drooped, almost to the point where they were closed.

   “You may.”

   In that single moment, time slowed. As Sanghyuk pushed forward, pressing his slightly chapped lips against your own, seconds turned to hours. Your eyes fluttered closed, your cheeks warming with delight as you relished the moment. You inched closer, accepting his hand that moved to take hold of yours. His lips moved slowly, gently against yours as his other hand brought you closer to him by the small of your back. The kiss, though short-lived, had you panting once he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours.

   Once you caught your breath, you willed yourself to look him in the eyes. Seeing his dark brown irises up close made you feel incredibly nervous. The moment, to you, seemed far too surreal, as if it were something your mind had conjured up to mess with you. However, the feeling of his slow breathing against your skin, the warmth of his hand, and the tingling feeling his touch left behind-- they all confirmed it.

   You, [Y/F/N], had just kissed Han Sanghyuk.

   It was something you would’ve dreamt about long ago, and the fact that your thoughts had become reality sent you in a spiral of emotion. You were pretty sure he could hear your heart racing, judging by just how loudly it echoed in your ears.

   Sanghyuk let out a breathy chuckle, squeezing your hand gently. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted timidly, something seemingly out of character for him. “[Y/N], I--”

   And just like that, the tranquil moment was ruined by the ringing of his phone. You jumped apart, your eyes immediately searching for the source of the noise. Sanghyuk scrambled to pull his phone out from his pocket. When he did, his expression dropped. He looked over at you nervously. “Family dinner,” he explained after he hung up. “My parents want to meet me and talk about school.”

   You nodded, feeling somewhat sad. Suddenly, your mother’s words came back to you, the very words she had told you that night. You wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him so badly, but the words wouldn’t form themselves. It was as if there was an anchor attached to your tongue, an anchor that didn’t allow you to speak the words you wanted to verbalize.

   “Okay.”

   You watched as he slipped his shoes on and you watched as he slipped out your door. He sent one last glance over his shoulder, looking at you as if he wanted you to say something as if he wanted you to tell him to stay. You kept your lips glued shut, a harsh feeling erupting deep within you. As he drove away, you looked down.

    Though you didn’t know just yet, that had been your last chance to tell Sanghyuk the truth.

   The next day, Sanghyuk wasn’t in class. “Congratulations,” Mr Yoon had said upon your entrance. “You and Sanghyuk got the highest grade in the class for the project. You should be proud of yourself.” You stared at his empty spot all throughout the class, tuning out the words and utterings of your professor and peers alike. You felt dreadful, your eyes trailing to the clock on the wall.

   1:27.

   You only had four and a half hours left to tell him. If you didn’t, you just knew that you would regret it so, so much.

   You glanced down at your phone. He still hadn’t replied to the messages you left him. You wondered if he was purposefully ignoring you or if he had another legitimate reason. Either way, your heart broke off into more and more pieces with each passing minute.

   Barely hearing Mr Yoon dismissing the class, you followed the hoard of students that made their way out the doors. Before you reached the exit, you heard Mr Yoon mention Sanghyuk. You moved out of the way of exiting students, glancing over the Mr Yoon.

   You noticed Chaerin standing in front of him, smiling falsely. You could barely hear what they were saying, and you tensed as Chaerin said her goodbyes and made her way toward you. She had a manila folder in her hands, and you could just barely see Sanghyuk’s name written on it. “What’s that?” you asked slowly. Chaerin’s neutral expression turned distasteful the moment you opened your mouth, but it wasn’t long before she put on a smile, one just as fake as the one she had shown Mr Yoon.

   “Mr Yoon wants me to deliver some paperwork to Hyukkie,” you nearly winced at the nickname, “so I’ll be heading over there now.” She sidestepped around you, “If you don’t mind, which I’m sure you won’t, I’ll be on my way--”

   “Wait!”

   She stopped in her tracks, holding in a groan as she looked over at you over her shoulder. “Could you,” you paused, furrowing your brows together as you struggled to piece together a coherent sentence. “Could you tell him to meet me at the VIXX Café at four? It’d be much appreciated.”

   You bit your lip nervously as you awaited a response. Finally, Chaerin sighed, obviously annoyed with your presence. “Alright,” she agreed quietly, “I’ll tell him. I’ll be leaving now, for real.” She didn’t spare you another glance before turning on her heel and disappearing within the crowd of students speed walking to their respective destinations.

And now, all there was to do is wait.

   Four o’clock came along much faster than you had anticipated. You sprinted to the café, shielding yourself from the light rain as you moved. Once you arrived, you frowned. The café was closed. You cursed yourself for not educating yourself on the quaint café’s schedule and sighed. You leant against the building’s front window, pushing yourself against the cold-to-the-touch surface in hopes of evading raindrops. Your attempts were futile, as in seconds you were soaked. Your heart was racing as you stared down at your luggage.

   You pulled on your sleeve, glancing down at your watch. 4:13. He’s just running late, you told yourself. In this weather, I wouldn’t be surprised.

   You heaved a sigh, looking around for a few seconds in hopes of even getting a glimpse of him. Seconds turned to minutes, and soon the sky was darkening with gray clouds as the rain became harsher and harsher. Shivering, you took one more look at your watch. 4:54. You felt yourself crying, hot tears burning your eyes. Though you were positive no one would be able to tell from the rain. Your hands fumbled around before they landed on the handle of your suitcase. It was just as drenched as you were and you were almost positive your belongings within would also be damp by the time five o’clock rolled around.

   You covered your mouth. He wasn’t going to come. You weren’t stupid enough to not figure that out. You swore, biting harshly into the wet fabric of your jacket. You accidentally bit into the fragile skin of your forefinger, but you didn’t care. Your heart ached, and it ached far worse than any flesh wound could.

   You slowly crossed the street, your steps slow and heavy. Your face was most definitely red and puffy, but you could easily pass it off as a small side-effect of being in the rain for too long. As you sat down on the wet bus bench, the barred cover that loomed above you not really acting as a cover at all, large raindrops easily falling through the wide gaps in between each white, metal bar.

   You looked up, your eyes wide at who you saw standing there, across the street. Before you could do anything, a bus blocked your view. You felt another tear cascade down the side of your face, it’s searing heat contrasting against the cold of the rain.

   Sanghyuk looked at himself in the mirror, judging each part of his appearance. Looking out the window, he didn’t think it’d matter much anyway. Rain poured down from the sky mercilessly. He glanced over at his kitchen table. Upon it lay his mangled phone, its screen shattered with parts missing. The device would forever be a memory of his father’s sudden fit of rage the night before. He got angry, angry that Sanghyuk was investing so much time in something as, in his words; stupid as creative writing. Shaking his head, Sanghyuk merely heaved a heavy sigh before stepping out of his home, umbrella in hand.

   As he walked to the café, his mind filled itself with various questions.

   Three hours before, there was a knock at his door. At first, he got ecstatic. Perhaps you were visiting him, worried due to his lack of presence in class. He must’ve looked visibly disappointed when he opened the door because the woman who stood behind it looked slightly hurt for a moment.

   “Chaerin?” he had questioned, raising a brow. His eyes went from the small package in her hands to her face. She wore a soft smile, one Sanghyuk thought looked cheesy and forced. “What’re you doing here?”

   She held out the loosely bundled together folder. Sanghyuk was slow to take hold of it, but when he did he quickly recognized its contents as the resumés Mr Yoon had helped him out with. “Mr Yoon wanted me to deliver these,” she explained in a soft tone.

   Sanghyuk barely muttered thanks before moving to close the door. Chaerin was quick to hold a hand out, stopping him from completing the action. “That’s it?” she mumbled, disheartened. “Just a weak little ‘thanks’ and then I get a door shut in my face?”

   Sanghyuk blinked, unsure of what the girl wanted. Seeing his confusion, Chaerin was pushed into a spiral of emotion. She felt angry, angry that Sanghyuk didn’t realize just how much she cared for him, and dejected. She saw the disappointment on his face the moment he opened the door. He was expecting someone else.

   He was expecting you.

   She scoffed, feeling ever so bitter. “[Y/N] told me to tell you,” she began slowly, watching for his reaction. When he obviously lit up as if he were a child on Christmas, Chaerin had to will herself not to cry. He’d never react like that to her. She knew that, and she hated it. Why couldn’t he see her? Why did it have to be you? “They want you to meet them at some café at,” she paused for a moment. “At five o’clock.”

   Sanghyuk nodded slowly. It processed in his slightly ill mind that you had meant the VIXX Café. He quickly thanked her again before moving to shut the door.

   This time, Chaerin hadn’t stopped him. Once she was faced with the wooden exterior, only to look at her reflection as it looked at her from the clear glass that was placed beautifully within the wood. Only then, did she let herself cry.

   Back to the present, Sanghyuk drew nearer and nearer to the café. With each step he took, his heart raced a little faster each time. However, once he reached his destination, the café was dark-- chairs were stacked on top of tables and the large open sign that hung above the door wasn’t blinking fluorescent its usual colours. He felt confused. You were nowhere in sight, and you couldn’t have been within the café.

   Over the heavy rain, the loud horn of a bus grabbed his attention. When he glanced over, he thought he was imagining things. He blinked in confusion, quickly stepping closer to the road to get a better look. His eyes, in the end, weren’t deceiving him. You sat on a bench completely soaked to the bone. You were right there, right across the street. His eyes laid upon your blue suitcase, his eyes widening.

   The bus pulled in.

   In a mere second, you were gone. Gone, travelling on the bus he had no chance of catching up with. As the bus travelled out of his view, a single tear fell from Sanghyuk’s eyes as he let out a pathetic laugh. He looked up at the sky, watching as the rain slowly let up. Rays of sunshine peaked through the still gray clouds, almost mockingly. Dropping the umbrella, Sanghyuk cried out in vexation, in despair.

   “I never got to tell you,” he whispered into the deafening silence of the night. And finally he mumbled into the darkening sky, “I love you.”

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