#nothing else on my mind except for how quickly I needed to jot the dream down before I forgot it

[henry-hart]

Henry Danger Carnival/Fair Fic: Part 5

Dedicated to: @sunbeameyes @up-the-tube @youngbloodthekilljoy @ramune-ray @writing-excuses  @an-anxious-gay-mess @kiwikwami *blows a kiss to you all* This is for you wonderful human beings.

A/N: It's the final part! I had so much fun making this fic; I'm almost sad to see it end not really because I am glad I pushed myself to finish this. This was definitely my favorite part to write because I knew how I wanted it to end, and it's such a sweet way to conclude it all. Everything comes to a close nicely. :))) I was listening to a playlist of 80s songs like "Drive" by The Cars and "The Edge of Forever" by The Sleep Academy while writing this, so if you get a real nostalgic 80s cult film vibe from it, that's why. lolol Enjoy and thank you for reading my fic! xoxoxo (it's hella long, so sit somewhere comfy while you read)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

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"And that makes 1,000," Ray announced, pulling the tickets from the skee ball machine and adding them to the mounting pile he and Piper had already won. "Henry should bring you around more often, kid." He remarked, smiling wickedly at their earnings.

Piper inserted three more tokens into the game. She grabbed a ball, wound her arm back, and threw it, once again landing in the hole marked 100. She smirked at Ray when the machine started spitting out tickets again. Turns out Henry wasn't the only Hart with a knack for carnival games.

Once Piper had chased the boys away, She and Ray had developed a kind of partnership over their mutual love of getting what they want. Together the two of them had conned their way to the front of as many lines as they could manage and had even gotten free cotton candy. Where before they could hardly stand each other, now they were functioning as a pretty good team and actually enjoying themselves in the process.

When Ray had gotten Piper and Schwoz onto as many rides as he could manage under the guise of their father (he accepted that he could pass as Piper's father, but to have people believe he could be Schowz' father just hurt--Schwoz is older than him), they decided to give the arcade a chance.

The second they walked through the doors, Schwoz took off, grinning like a kid in a candy shop. Ray figured he'd be okay on his own while he and Piper brought their prowess as a joined force to the world of gaming.

Piper was great at every game she tried--especially skee ball. She had racked up an impressive amount of tickets for herself on just the one game alone. Ray found he was good at the classic video games--Pac-Man, Space Invaders, Galaga--and he figured that was because he had played them a lot as a kid. He too earned a good bit of tickets, and they decided they would combine their winnings so they could get the better prizes.

Piper had her eye on a neon flamingo sign, and she had noticed a rocket ship lava lamp that she thought Henry might like. She was going to need a lot of tickets to get them, but she had faith in her skills, considering they were at 1,000 already. Most people weren't as proficient as she was with the arcade games, so she wasn't worried about anyone beating her to the prizes she wanted.

Ray wanted a classic, giant lollipop, but Piper inspired him to aim bigger. He had seen a plasma ball lamp when he walked in and decided that was what he wanted--along with his lollipop. He also wanted to get something for Schwoz, but he knew any prize would make Schwoz happy.

Piper landed the ball in the 100 hole a few more times, and Ray once again collected the tickets, adding them to the rest.

"I am so good at this." Piper boasted. "Someone should give me a trophy or something." She took a break from the game to join Ray at a table he had picked out. She looked around for Schwoz but didn't see him. She was sure he was having the time of his life wherever he was. She'd never seen anyone as excited as he was when they walked through the front doors.

 Piper had to admit she felt the excitement too. It was hard not to. The arcade was one giant room of game machines, neon enhanced by black lights, and the exciting sound of tokens being deposited and tickets being won. Everyone cheering and talking and enjoying themselves blended into one sound, like the white noise of a crowded cafeteria or a busy store. Every now and then, a machine would burst into a series of whoops and whirls and beeps followed by a bright light display, signaling someone had just won big, but mostly everything wove into one conglomerate sound.

The arcade had the distinct smell of pizza--as most kid's places do--but Piper didn't mind. Not when the prize booth was right next to the entrance and she could see what she had a chance to win. That was when she had spotted the neon flamingo, and it was all she could really think about.

Ray finished organizing the tickets into one pile and nodded to Piper, breaking her train of thought. "What next?"

Piper shrugged. She looked around and noticed a two player driving game that was unoccupied. She jutted her chin in the game's direction. "Wanna play that one?"

Ray looked at the game and back to Piper. He raised his eyebrows. "You want to play a driving game?"

Piper didn't see what he wasn't getting. "Yeah?" She hesitated. "So?"

"So," Ray continued. "Aren't you a little young to drive?"

"It's a game not a NASCAR race." Piper snorted. "Besides, I have a license."

"Yeah, Henry told me about that." He muttered absently. Ray rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You promise not to give me a bloody nose?"

Piper mocked him with a few silly expressions and stood up from her seat. "Do you promise not to make this an easy win?"

Ray raised his eyebrows. "That's how it is, huh? Well, considering the bumper car incident, I don't think there's anything for me to worry about."

Piper didn't make a comment, instead deciding to let him believe that she was bad behind the wheel. Her win would be much sweeter that way.

Ray took her silence for apprehension and rubbed his hands together diabolically. He had seen her dominate most of the games in the arcade, but considering the tale Henry had told of the bumper cars, Ray wasn't too worried this time. It was driving. He was a full adult--of an age that did not matter because he didn't look that old, so, don't worry about it--and she was a child. He had this one already marked down as a win.

Ten minutes later, Ray was singing a different tune.

Piper walked away from the racing game, a wad of tickets she had just won in her hand and a sulking Ray following behind her.

Piper was folding her tickets up, snickering as she remembered how Ray had bragged and boasted shortly before she destroyed him, when a group of boys--probably older than her brother, by the looks of them--stepped in front of her.

"Hey, little girl," the one in the middle, most likely the leader, sneered down at her. "Where do you think you're going with those tickets?"

Piper wasn't the type to scare easy (now, scaring other people easily, that she was the type for), but this was a group of five guys, all much older and much taller than she. She was caught off guard, and she didn't think her tactics from before with the line-cutters would work in this noisy, crowded arcade.

She held tighter to her tickets, but she didn't say anything.

"I said, where do you think you're going with my tickets?" He spat again, this time leaning down to look her right in the eyes.

Piper was about to say something about the guy's bad breath when Ray stepped up from behind her.

"Something wrong?" He asked the group of guys in a tone that warned that their better not be.

Ray was aware that these weren't adults, so he couldn't just start throwing punches or anything, but he figured they were cowards. Any guy who needs to get a gang together to scare little girls into giving up their tickets is a coward, and cowards are easily frightened. Ray knew his presence and a few intimidating words were enough to keep the boys away from Piper.

Piper wasn't used to having someone stick up for her; she usually didn't need it, but she was glad for it, all the same.

The main guy stepped away from Piper, losing almost all of his bravado at the sight of Ray. "No, we were just leaving." He nudged his buddies to follow him.

Ray nodded. "I thought so." When the boys were gone, and he was confident they weren't coming back, he turned back to Piper. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Thanks for--well--you know--the--"

Ray placed a hand on her arm to stop her, knowing that saying thank you to him was incredibly difficult for her. "Don't mention it." Piper sighed in relief. "No, seriously, don't mention it. I don't want anyone thinking I like you or anything now."

"Don't worry." She assured. "I won't be telling anyone about this. I have a reputation to protect."

Ray smiled, knowing that no one would believe the story even if they did tell people; Piper was too well-known for being aggressive and violent (though Ray thought this kind of sad--she was only twelve after all. Why should it be so hard to believe that she is capable of acting like a twelve year old?).

She looked at Ray then, and he could tell that, despite her dislike for not being able to help herself, she was grateful.

"You should be proud to have those tickets kid. You kicked my butt to get them, and that's no easy feat." He jested, nudging her arm lightly as they walked back to their table.

Piper snorted. "That's not the way Henry tells it. According to him, winning games isn't really your thing."

Ray bristled. "He said that?" He demanded, scowling. Henry had the audacity to bad mouth Ray behind his back. "That little string bean thinks that just because he can knock down a few cans when it was obviously rigged makes him some kind of master of games." He grumbled, angrily ripping pieces off the napkins on the table and throwing them to the floor. "He's a master of lame, that's what he is. And he's blonde. What's up with that?"

Piper watched the napkin pieces flying all around them and landing on the red carpet floor. She didn't think it wise to interject to say that she too was a blonde and didn't see what the problem there was; she knew--from the limited times she had been exposed to him--that Ray was prone to temper tantrums, so she let him do his thing. She had a hard time flipping out on him anyway now that he had done something nice for her.

See, this is why she hates when people are nice because then she feels bad for having a short temper with them. If everyone would just be horrible, life would be so much easier for her.

"I'm going to send that brother of yours a carefully worded text letting him know exactly how I feel about that smart mouth of his." He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, mumbling in angry tones the whole time. "And I'm going to use emojis!" He barked at Piper. "He won't know what hit him. Blonde."

"Again with the blonde hate," Piper stopped him. "What do you have against blondes?"

Ray only gave her a seconds glance before going back to furiously typing on his phone. "I wouldn't expect you to understand. You're related to him. You're a whole family of blondes."

Piper shook her head, sorry she ever said anything. "I'm going to go dominate Pac-Man or something." She stood to leave Ray to chew Henry out and continue his napkin tearing.

Ray stopped texting, his attitude doing a complete 180 as he spoke. "You stay away from the boys. If they give you any more trouble, come find me, okay?"

Piper waved a hand at him. "Yeah, yeah, get back to yelling at my brother." Ray nodded, and she left, off to win more tickets.

"Oh, I will." He muttered to himself.  

----------

"What was that?" Jasper asked after seeing Henry frown at something on his phone.

"Nothing," Henry sighed, sliding his phone back into his pocket, "Just Ray being ridiculous."

Jasper nodded. He knew about that all too well.

The two boys were currently in line for the ferris wheel; Henry had made sure Jasper stayed true to his promise. It was a better idea that they saved this moment for right now anyway because ferris wheel rides were always more magical at night.

The operator motioned the two boys forward, and Jasper handed him two tickets from his bucket. Henry smiled at this, remembering how Jasper had once been obsessed.

They climbed into the carriage, and the operator shut the door. They chose the same seat rather than be opposite each other, and neither of them pointed this fact out. It wasn't something they really thought about; they just did what came naturally, and that was sitting right next to each other in the small carriage. They waited quietly for the other people to be seated, and the ferris wheel began to turn, pulling them back and up.

What was once a warm day had turned into a chilly night. As the ferris wheel moved, a nipping breeze blew into the carriage where Henry and Jasper where sitting, and both boys found themselves thankful for the close proximity of the other.

"Hey, Jasp," Henry said thoughtfully when their carriage was close to the top.

"Hmm?" Jasper hummed, looking out at the fair grounds now that he could see everything from up in the air.

"You had fun today, right?" Henry asked, studying the side of Jasper's face.

Now that they were alone and without the complications of bumper cars or little sisters or paddle boats with a broken propeller, he wanted to take this chance to really talk to Jasper and get his input on today. 

Jasper turned back to Henry. Their carriage was at the top now where it stopped, giving the two boys a full view of the fair. They looked away from each other to appreciate it, but neither of them had anything to say. It was breathtaking.

All the rides seemed so small from their height; the people were even smaller, no more than black specks moving in the night. The multitudes of lights made the grounds appear as its own world, separated from the rest of Swellview, teeming with life and pulsing with its own energy.

The lights were Jasper's favorite part because he had seen nothing like it before. It wasn't just the lights from the fair that were mesmerizing; it was all of Swellview. The town seemed to be lit up with soft, yellow and white lights. Jasper could see all of it. He felt like, if he tried hard enough, he could see the whole world. He felt powerful, limitless. He'd never been on a ferris wheel before, so he didn't know what he was feeling--that it was that carnival magic taking over his body. It's always strongest at the top of the ferris wheel, and Jasper was not immune.

Henry too was in awe. He was silent as he appreciated, as if it were the first time, a sight he had seen so many times before. No matter how many times he had been to the fair and ridden the exact same ferris wheel, that magic always struck him just as hard each time. He felt as Jasper did--endless, infinite--being up that high and looking out over something so incredible. This was his favorite thing about the fair: the exhilaration of seeing the carnival and all its magic in full.

Henry looked back to Jasper. Jasper looked back to Henry.

Jasper was hyper-aware of how close his hand was to Henry's, whose was resting on the bench in the small space between them. He felt warmth like a kind of energy bouncing back and forth between their hands. Henry's cheeks were flushed from the cold night air that, though Jasper hadn't noticed before, was more biting now that they were higher up in the air. The glow on Henry's cheeks combined with the light shining in his eyes even in the dark night made him look more alive than ever to Jasper. His heart jumped in his chest.

"Yeah," he breathed. "It was the best day of my life."

Henry's lips pulled into a warm smile. He felt as light as air, sitting here with his best friend on the best night of Jasper's life. He had done exactly as he had set out to do; he had made Jasper happy. Henry didn't think that he'd ever felt this good before in his life. There wasn't anything quite like the feeling of a loved one's happiness. The carnival magic didn't even come close. The chilly night didn't seem so uncomfortable now; Henry was glowing with an inner warmth, and no amount of cold weather could take that away from him.

He moved his hand up and over the back of Jasper's seat. He hadn't noticed as Jasper had that their hands were so close to touching, but he was aware now of how close his maneuver had brought the two, who were already very close. Henry didn't mind the proximity. It felt natural, easy, uncomplicated. He was also happy to be closer to the warmth radiating off of Jasper, who was meanwhile trying to refrain from smiling like an idiot now that Henry's arm was behind him.

Their carriage made it's way back down the ferris wheel, and when it stopped to let the next group have their chance at the top view, the two boys noticed familiar faces in the carriage in front of them.

Sydney and Oliver were also on the ferris wheel, and they were also seated on the same side.

Jasper and Henry waved to the two who waved back, and they enjoyed the rest of the ferris wheel ride. The next time they stopped at the top, they said nothing at all. Jasper nestled ever so slightly back against Henry, and Henry, noticing despite Jasper's attempt at subtlety, merely smiled, never moving his arm.

----------

"How was the ferris wheel?" Charlotte asked when Henry and Jasper met back up with her near the entrance to the arcade.

The boys shared a secret smile.

"It was great." Henry answered. "We saw Sydney and Oliver."

Charlotte nodded, handing Jasper's bear to him. "Cool," she took her phone out of her pocket. "Piper said everyone's inside."

"Alright, let's go on in. Ray sent me this long text earlier about how great he was at the games." Henry laughed. "I don't believe him, but it'll be fun to see him try."

Charlotte shook her head knowing another competition was about to start between those two.

The trio walked into the arcade and were met with the same energy Piper and Ray and Schwoz had encountered.

"This place is great." Jasper remarked, his eyes finding the prize booth.

Henry nodded. "Right? I don't know what to do first."

"I do." Piper said coming up to the group then. "You're going to take this." She handed him the hat she had bought him, "And then you're going to get your butt kicked by me at skee ball."

Henry accepted the hat, pressing the button to make it light up. He noticed Piper was wearing one too. "You bought me this?"

"Yeah, but that's not important." She dismissed, though Henry thought it was very important.

She had not only bought him a gift, but it was a matching set to which she had the other one. That was unheard of for Piper. She didn't purposefully match Henry with anything. He was touched, but Piper didn't give him a chance to tell her how much.

"Now come get owned by my mad skee ball skills." She smirked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Henry looked to his friends.

Charlotte waved him on. "Go ahead. We'll be okay by ourselves." She hadn't had a chance to spend time with Jasper just the two of them. She still had to give him his keychain.

"Yeah, we'll find something to do." Jasper agreed.

Henry put his hat from Piper on and turned to his little sister. Though their hats were blinking in unison, the two were opposed at the moment. They glared at each other in a silent challenge.

"It's on." Henry declared, following Piper to the back of the arcade.

He saw the cache of tickets she had sticking out of her bag, but they did little to discourage him. He was a skee ball whiz.

"Shall we find Ray, let him know we're here?" Charlotte offered.

Jasper shrugged. "Sure. I need a place to set this down anyway." He lifted his bear up.

The two searched the arcade until they found Ray who was looking around frantically like he had lost something.

"What's wrong, Ray?" Charlotte frowned.

Ray didn't look at them as he spoke. "I can't find Schwoz." He spun in a circle. "He ditched us when we first got here, but that was awhile ago. I'm worried." He looked at the pair then. "He's really small."

Jasper and Charlotte looked at each other, both of them thinking the same thing: how surprising it was to hear Ray concerned for Schwoz. They knew Ray cared about him, but no one ever really talked about it. They're relationship was complicated; Ray acted like he couldn't stand Schwoz, but everyone knew he actually liked the little guy.

They both reached a silent agreement not to point it out.

"Okay," Charlotte began, thinking pragmatically. "Where do you think he would most likely be?"

"Yeah," Jasper continued. "If you were Schwoz, what would you do?"

Ray threw his hands up. "I don't know. Do you know how weird that guy is? I never know what he's going to do."

"Well just try," Charlotte prompted. "What would be the most likely place to find him?"

Ray rubbed his chin, contemplating. "That's hard to say. Everything screams Schwoz around here. It's all games and lights and beep sounds." He scratched the back of his neck when a thought came to him. "The ball pit!" He snapped his fingers. "Schwoz has to be in the ball pit!"

Jasper cringed. "Gross. Ball pits are disgusting."

"This is Schwoz we're talking about. That's not really an issue for him." Ray snapped, already walking in the direction of the ball pit.

None of them were too interested in doing anything that concerned a pit full of plastic balls and millions of germs from the plethora of kids that jumped in them. They'd all heard news reports about ball pits and were surprised the arcade even had one.

When they made it to the pit, they noticed a line of kids waiting outside of it. Ray thought this odd. Usually the crazy kids just jumped right in like the animals they were. He suspected something was wrong, and he got the nagging feeling it had to do with Schwoz.

He was right.

Schwoz was stuck in the middle of the ball pit. He was too small reach the floor beneath all the balls, so he was just helplessly flailing in the center, stirring up all the gross things contained within a ball pit.

"Schwoz!" Ray called, shoving back the kid first in line. "What're you doing?"

"Ray!" Schwoz answered back in a helpless cry. Panic was evident in his voice. "Charlotte! Jasper! Help me!"

"I really don't want to." Charlotte grimaced.

Ray gave her a dirty look and reached a hand out in to the pit. He was going to help his friend, but he was going to stay out of the ball pit if he could help it. Schwoz wasn't worth that much.

"Will you hurry up and get your weird kid out?" The kid Ray had pushed said.

Ray whipped around immediately. "That is not my kid. I don't even have kids." He motioned to his face with both hands. "Does this face look old enough to have kids?"

The kid shrugged. "You look the same age as my Dad, so yeah."

Ray eyed the kid carefully. "How old is your Dad?"

"I don't know, fifty?"

Ray almost fainted. "I am not fifty. I don't even look fifty. I look at least thirty."

The kid didn't look to sure. "Whatever, dude. Will you just get your kid out so the rest of us can get it?"

"No, don't whatever dude me. I have the kind of skin that never ages. Look at my face," he got close to the kid's face. "This is the definition of youthful glow."

"Ray, you're scaring the kids." Charlotte scolded him, not in the mood to hear Ray get testy about his age yet again.

"This place is making me itch." Jasper complained. "Can we just get Schwoz and go somewhere else?" Jasper's parents had told him too many stories about ball pits as a kid. He was sure he was getting hives just being this close.

Ray reluctantly turned away from the kid and once again offered a hand for Schwoz. The kid behind him got the attention of the other kids and pushed Ray's back with both hands, making him fall face first into the ball pit. He disappeared under all the balls.

Charlotte and Jasper stood frozen, jaws dropped.

Ray popped up to the surface screaming. "Oh God, it smells like cheese and pee!" He started the same frantic flailing Schwoz was doing. "Someone save me! I think I just ate a booger! Dear Lord, I'm gonna puke. GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

The kids in line where doubled over laughing at Ray and Schwoz. Charlotte and Jasper recovered from their shock, but they weren't going to make the same mistake as Ray.

"It's like five feet. Just stand up!" Charlotte called.

Ray stopped moving and did as Charlotte instructed, finding that it was only about five feet. He could touch the bottom which meant he could walk. He could get out.

He reached for Schwoz and dragged him along to the exit. He pulled them both out, glaring daggers at the kid who had pushed him in.

"See you later, grandpa." The kid snickered before jumping into the ball pit.

Jasper had to hold Ray back, all the while trying to convince him that going after a kid no more than ten years old wasn't a good idea. 

He reluctantly agreed, and Jasper let him go.

"I need to go bathe in Germ-X." He grumbled, heading for the restrooms.

The other three found the table Ray and Piper had reserved and ordered some food to eat.

----------

"It's a tie." Henry declared after he finished tallying up all the points.

He and Piper had forgotten the tickets they won; they were more worried about adding up the points scored to see who could rightfully claim the skee ball champion title.

Piper scoffed. "Seriously?"

Henry held up the score sheet to prove it. "Don't look so surprised, little sister." He said, reaching for the stack of neglected tickets sticking out of his machine. "You forget. I taught you everything you know."

Piper removed her tickets from her machine. "You did not. Mom taught us both."

Henry shrugged. It was true. Their mom was the ultimate skee ball champion, but Henry thought he was a close second. He had helped Piper play when they were kids and she was too young to roll the ball, so in a way, he had also taught her to play.

They walked back to the table they had claimed and took their seats, enjoying cheese fries Henry had ordered. Henry watched Piper's hat blink and felt for his own. He had reversed his, so it was lighting up behind him.

"Thanks for the hat." He said, popping a fry into his mouth. "You didn't have to get me anything."

Piper chewed on a fry, glaring at her brother. "You're not gonna make this a thing, are you?"

Henry held his hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to say thank you. It was nice of you."

"I bought it with your money, so really it was nice of you."

They finished their food and decided to meet back up with everyone else. Piper wanted to cash in her tickets first, so they made their way to the prize booth. Henry didn't have very many tickets, so he just gave his to Piper, but she made him stay back while she went to get her prizes. Henry wasn't sure why she didn't want him to walk up with her, but he obeyed and stayed put until she came back, carrying two large prizes.

"Here," she muttered, not meeting Henry's eyes. She handed him a rocket ship shaped lava lamp.

"Woah," Henry remarked, taking the lamp from her. Henry always wanted a lava lamp, and this one was great. "This is awesome, Piper." He knitted his eyebrows together, a surprised smile on his face. "You got this for me?"

She tilted her head side to side. "I had more tickets than I knew what to do with, and you gave me yours. I figured I'd get you something after I got what I wanted." She held up her flamingo. She didn't tell Henry that she was going to get the lava lamp for him even before he gave her his tickets. She figured he'd get freaked out, what with all this uncharacteristic generosity on her part.

Honestly, it kind of freaked her out too.

"Still, that's two gifts in one day." Henry reported. "Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?"

Piper smacked his arm. "Shut up, bonehead."

"There she is."

Piper walked away from him then. Henry caught up to her, making a mental note of the photo booth he saw on the way to the rest of the group.

They found Charlotte, Jasper, Schwoz, and Ray eating, like they had, cheese fries.

"Hey," Ray said. "Where have you two been?"

Henry set his lava lamp down on the table and pulled a chair out for himself and Piper. "We were playing skee ball. Then Piper wanted to cash in her tickets."

Ray jumped up. "I need to do that."

Henry, despite just sitting down, jumped up too. "Wait, we'll all go. I saw a photo booth on the way over here and figured we could take a few pics." He looked to the group to see if they agreed.

They all murmured their approval, and the group set off, Ray in lead, back towards the prize booth.

Ray got his giant lollipop and the plasma ball lamp he had wanted. He bought a sky ball for Schwoz, knowing it would keep him easily entertained. Charlotte had given Jasper his bucket keychain before when they were seated at the table, so now everyone had exchanged all presents bought.

Henry lead the gang to the photo booth, and they all set their stuff down with Jasper's bear next to the booth so they could all squeeze in for a photo.

Of course, they were incredibly cramped, what with six people in a booth best fitted for two. Piper was in Ray's lap, and Schwoz was squishing Charlotte against the wall. Jasper had to hold onto Henry to keep from falling out the booth, but somehow they managed it. The camera cut their faces off most of the time, and fourteen seconds wasn't long enough time to get into position before the flash went off, but they were all laughing and smiling nonetheless. The camera caught their expressions, forever freezing the joy and mirth on all their faces. The photo strip came out wonderful.

"Okay, now let's take smaller group pictures." Henry laughed when he studied the photo strip and found that one picture had only Ray and Piper's faces fully in the shot.

First up was Henry, Charlotte, and Jasper. They took the customary best friends pictures; someone always put bunny ears on someone else, and majority of the time they were making ridiculous faces. Henry even pulled Jasper in for a tight hug while Charlotte made an expression like she was "over it" to be funny. For the last picture, Henry, being in the middle, wrapped an arm around both of them and pulled them in close to him.

Next was Ray and Schwoz. They outdid the trio with their silly poses. Ray had an knack for making goofy faces, and most of Schwoz expressions were already goofy. Henry photo-bombed one picture, and the picture following that was of Ray and Schwoz shoving him out of the booth. They simply smiled like the old friends they were for their last picture.

Charlotte and Piper commandeered the booth after Ray and Schwoz for a girls only session. They made the poses commonly found on social media, and for one picture, they sat back to back with their hands making gun symbols, staring dramatically at the camera. They cracked up after that one and spent the rest of their time looking as ridiculous as possible. The last picture was a sweet one: Charlotte and Piper hugging.

When Charlotte and Piper stepped out of the booth, Henry opened the curtain for himself, but he held a hand out towards Piper.

"You wanna take a few with your lame, big brother?" He teased. "Mom and Dad will love it."

Piper sighed dramatically, though she was going to offer to take pictures with Henry herself. "If you insist."

Henry made like he was going to hug Piper for the first pic, and she feigned a disgusted face, trying to push him away as the camera caught the moment. They both laughed, and the flash went off again, catching their laughter in a photo. They made a few brother and sister poses; Piper leaned an arm on Henry' shoulder, and they looked deep into the camera with that "we're too cool for you" expression. Henry reversed his hat so that the lights were back in front, and they took a photo, pointing to each other's matching hat. Henry threw a lazy arm over his little sister's shoulder and leaned his head on hers for the final photo.

Piper left the booth and collected their photos, but Henry remained. He signaled for Ray to join him.

"Dude, we should totally take a few as--" Henry lowered his voice even though Piper was too far away to hear. "Captain Man and Kid Danger."

Ray nodded. "Yeah, that would be so cool!"

"So cool!" Henry agreed with a wide grin. He made way for Ray to join him and then called Jasper over. "Hey, could you distract Piper while we take a few pictures as, you know."

"Ooh," Jasper grinned. "Sure thing, man."

"Thank you."

Jasper grabbed Charlotte by the arm and walked over to Piper. "Hey, Piper, why don't we take some selfies anywhere but the photo booth?"

"Okay," Piper agreed, not knowing why Jasper was being so specific. She didn't care though. She loved selfies: anything to update her social media and keep it fresh.

Henry face palmed himself at Jasper's obviousness, but he closed the curtain anyway. With Schwoz keeping watch, Henry and Ray blew a bubble, changing into their superhero identities while Charlotte and Jasper kept Piper busy with selfies.

They goofed off in some, pretended to be male models in others, and then genuinely smiled for the rest. Once they were done, they blew another bubble and changed back into their regular selves. Schwoz quickly took the photo strip from the machine and handed it to Henry as he exited the booth. Henry gave one to Ray, and they both hide them in the pocket of their shirts out of sight.

"Okay," Charlotte said as she rejoined the group, Piper and Jasper in tow. "What now?"

Henry shrugged. "I don't know. We could go home?" He couldn't think of anything else they had yet to do, and it was getting late. He also wasn't sure how much longer the fair was open.

Ray looked at Schwoz, and they both nodded. Ray addressed the group. "There is one more thing we would like to do."

"What?" Henry asked, not sure what Ray and Schwoz would have in mind.

They looked at each other again and said in perfect unison, "Karaoke!"

The kids all looked at each other, uneasy expressions on their faces.

"What?" Ray demanded.

"You don't like karaoke?" Schwoz asked, but his accent made the word sound like "carrot okay."

"It's not that we don't like it," Jasper began, trying to let the two men down easy.

"It's that we hate it." Piper finished for him, not too concerned with how they took it.

Ray looked personally offended. "How can you not like karaoke?" When ray said it, he put an extra, unnecessary flourish on the word.

"People our age don't really do karaoke." Charlotte explained.

"Nope. It's an old people thing." Piper added, again not caring about the effects.

Ray nearly exploded. "I swear, if one more kid in this stupid place calls me old--" Schwoz put a hand on his arm to calm him down. Ray nodded to Schwoz and took a deep, calming breath. "Karaoke is not for old people. Karaoke is an art."

"Okay, you have got to stop saying Karaoke like that." Henry complained.

Ray stuck his tongue out at him. "I can say it however I want to say it, and we're doing karaoke. I'm the adult. I'm the one driving, so we're doing what I want and what I want is Karaoke!"

"God, okay, Ray. We'll do your karaoke." Henry relented, dragging a hand down his face.

"It's karaoke." Ray corrected.

Henry pointed a finger at Ray. "I will take the keys, and I will drive us all home. I swear I'll do it." Ray held his hands up in surrender, and Henry motioned for them to lead the way. "Karaoke it is."

"We're probably going to regret it." Charlotte muttered. Henry shushed her, and they followed Ray and Schwoz to the stage.

The stage was empty--go figure--so Ray and Schwoz jumped right up and grabbed mics. They went to the DJ to request their songs, and as if it couldn't get any worse for the kids, the first song they chose was Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want To Have Fun."

Ray turned to the crowd as the music began and pointed to where the kids were all standing. "Hey kids, this one's for you!"

Henry, Piper, Charlotte, and Jasper watched with horrified expressions on their faces as these grown men they were embarrassed to know strutted around stage alternating singing, "My mother says 'When you gonna live your life right'/Oh mother dear we're not the fortunate ones/And girls they want to have fun/Oh girls just want to have fun."

They tried to scoot towards the shadows and out of the light, but Ray's dedication let everyone know they were there. They all held their hands up over their faces and pretended they didn't know the man trying and failing miserably to moonwalk across the stage and his short friend who was air guitar-ing to a song that really wasn't air guitar worthy.

"This is what I meant when I said it was only for old people." Piper cringed when Ray jumped up and did a toe touch. "My eyes," she gasped in horror.

"I'm nauseous." Charlotte nodded, the sight unfolding before her eyes bringing her to a near-puking point. "I'm physically nauseous."

"What do we do?" Jasper asked desperately. He wanted to go home immediately. His house may be horrible, but at least there wasn't any of whatever that was on stage happening at his house. 

Henry threw a hand in the direction of the stage. "What can we do? If we go up there, everyone will know for sure that we're with them." He grimaced at Ray and Schwoz who were now doing the electric slide, much to the horror of everyone in the building.

"If we don't do anything, this will just keep going on for God knows how long." Charlotte reasoned, averting her eyes. She couldn't take much more.

"I'm not sure how much more I can take." Piper groaned.

Henry was torn. He too wanted the disaster to stop immediately, but he also didn't want to risk public humiliation. Quite the crowd had formed to watch Ray and Schwoz who were know dancing to "I've Had the Time of My Life"--and they were doing the full choreography from the movie.

"Dear God," Henry gasped in horror.

They weren't even assuming the roles that seemed to make the most sense; Ray wasn't playing the guy, and Schwoz wasn't playing the girl. No, Schwoz was Patrick Swayze, and Ray was Jennifer Gray. This could only end badly.

When the time came for the "big move," Henry was sure they wouldn't do it. Or Ray would suddenly switch to the guy role and lift Schwoz. That didn't seem to be happening. Schwoz was standing on one end of the stage, arms open and ready, and Ray was preparing to take off.

"Okay," Henry announced, deciding he was just going to have to accept public humiliation. He grabbed Jasper, and the two made their way to the stage to stop the catastrophe before it happened.

Ray started to run, but Henry hopped up on stage, blocking his path. Jasper went for Schwoz.

"That's enough fun for one night." Jasper said, grabbing Schwoz and pulling him after him.

"Yeah, time to go home buddy." Henry patted Ray on the back.

Ray refused. "You can't stop us before the big finish!"

Some people in the crowd seemed to believe so too; Henry and Jasper received a chorus of boos. Ray motioned towards the crowd with a "told you" look on his face.

"There wasn't going to be a big finish." Henry snapped, not believing Ray. How did he think jumping into the arms of someone half his size would end well? "All there was going to be was one incredibly injured Schwoz with you to blame."

Ray relented and started to walk with Henry, but he ran away from him right before they got off the stage. He ran to the microphone and grabbed it from its stand.

"Karaoke is not dead!" He yelled into the mic, dropping it when he was done.

"Ray!" Henry yelled, sure that it wasn't possible for it to get any worse.

Ray ran past Henry, snapping his fingers in a z-formation as he went. The crowd cheered Ray on.

Henry was wrong.

It was much worse.

----------

Henry unlocked his front door and stepped aside to let Piper in first. He followed and locked the door back behind him. He threw the keys and his bag from the arcade on the couch, stretching long and hard after his hands were free. It had been a long, eventful day. Enjoyable, but long. He noticed Piper was making her way to the stairs, but he stopped her.

"So," he began, a sleepy smile on his face.

Piper turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised. "So," she responded.

"Did you have fun?" Henry practically sang. He knew she did, but he wanted to see if he could coax a yes out of her.

Piper roller her eyes. "Do you have to be such a loser?"

Henry raised his eyebrows. "That wasn't a no."

Piper ignored him. "I'm going to bed now." She started up the stairs.

"You had fun! You won't admit it, but I know you did!" He called after her even when she was out of sight.

"You're an idiot!" He heard her call back to him.

Henry laughed triumphantly when she still didn't deny it. "You know you love me!" He was at the base of the stairs now and yelling up.

Piper didn't respond, but he knew she heard him. He chuckled again, getting joy from teasing his little sister, when his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He pulled it out to see that Jasper had texted him.

It read: I had a great time with you today thank you for everything xx

Henry smiled, his heart warming at his friend's words. He answered back: no problem I'm glad I could give you today :))) but I cant take all the credit it was Charlottes idea

Jasper responded immediately: I know I already texted her I just wanted to let you know that youre a great friend because today meant a lot to me

"Hey," Henry heard from the top of the stairs.

He looked up from his phone to see Piper walking towards him. He knitted his eyebrows together. "What's up?"

"Here," she gave him one of the photo strips of the pictures the two of them had taken. Henry took them and smiled when he saw the first picture of Piper trying to push him away. "So, yeah," she trailed off, not meeting his eyes. She wasn't sure what else to say. She wasn't the best at saying thank you.

Fortunately for her, she has a big brother who understands that about her and knows what she wants to say without her having to say it.

"Yeah," Henry agreed in a gentle voice. He knew she was saying thank you.

Piper nodded, thankful that Henry didn't tease her now. "Today didn't totally suck." She finished with an eye roll. Henry broke out into a big, cheesy grin. Piper shook her head and flicked the brim of his hat. They were both still wearing theirs, and they were both still lighting up. "Night dweeb," she walked back up the stairs.

Henry scoffed. Leave it to Piper to follow a thank you with an insult. "Good night Piper," he drawled.

Henry took the hat off his head and studied the words "Swellview Fair '18." The memories of today played through his head like a motion picture movie: the bumper cars, Ray's candy apple fiasco, winning the carnival games, the paddle boat with the broken propeller, watching the sky with Charlotte and Jasper, the ferris wheel ride with Jasper (he was particularly fond of this one), playing skee ball with Piper, Schwoz and Ray getting stuck in the ball pit, the photo booth, and lastly that horrible karaoke show Ray and Schwoz put on. He remembered the text Jasper had sent him. Henry smiled, thinking about all the incredible things he had done today with the most incredible people in his life.

He walked up the stairs and to his room where he pinned the photo strip next to his bed with a few other pictures he had. He looked at the last photo of he and Piper hugging and smiled a smile that came straight from his heart. He had spent the day giving not only his best friend the best day ever but his little sister as well, and that was incredibly important to him.

"No, today did not totally suck." He said to himself, completely content. "Not at all."

Today was the best day of his life too.

----------

A/N Part 2: Aaaaaaaannnnndddd that's a wrap! Yay! We're finished! TMaybe not yay! Maybe you didn't want this to end! If you didn't, I'm sorry. I appreciate you, but this was a good time to end this fic. This was so much fun for me to write. Honestly, it's my favorite out of everything I've ever done. I hope you guys love this as much as I do. I have another fic I'm currently working on, so don't go anywhere! More coming soon! Love you all. Thank you for sticking with me through this fic. I did it for you guys (and my hd children bc I love them and wish the show gave us content like this). Much love. xoxoxo --Em

[fruityutas]

strike to the heart

taglist ~ @puppywritings , @xiaojours , @svchengss , @prettyjaems​

part of @du0tine​ ‘s 21 ways to kill your lover collab

unstable!yangyang x psychologist!reader

not proofread

wc ~ 5k

genre ~ angst, ttiiinnnyyy fluff, thriller

warnings ~ the following writing is FICTION and has very heavy and unsettling themes like murder, suicide, and toxic relationships. if these themes are triggering or otherwise uncomfortable to you, do NOT read this story. there are also themes of religion.

synopsis ~ you were the best of the best, no one could bring an end to your golden career until he came along

note ~ i based yangyang’s personality in this off of his turn back time persona, making him very obviously mentally unstable. the plotline is based loosely off of harley quinn’s origin story, except of course, the reader dies. i also used the concept of purgatory in this story.

i realize that purgatory is apart of various religions, and i hope i made use of it in this story in the way it is intended to be portrayed as. i am not familiar with the subject, as i am non religious and have been for many years, so if i wrote anything that was disrespectful, please let me know and i will educate myself more on the topic. please note that if i do write something disrespectful, i will not be changing the writing in any way, unless necessary, because i feel that changing/erasing the mistake prevents anyone from seeing my growth as a person. 

here is the link to the website i used to read up on purgatory -> https://historylists.org/art/9-levels-of-purgatory-dantes-purgatorio.html

your parents always told you to aim for first. probably why you’re here now. you sit in the chair, watching your life play on what seems to be a screen. you can’t tell either way, everything is stark white and blends into one. the scenes are the only thing providing color to your eyes. are you dreaming? no, no that can’t be. the last thing you remember is…pain. and betrayal. how could he do this?

he was a fucking criminal. he had no true love for you, you were his final act. how could you have been so naive? every thought came too fast, it made your head hurt. a noise brought you out of your thoughts. a tall man stood off to the side of the screen. his features were sharp, and he looked angelic. “you must be y/n. you must also be wondering where you are.” you struggle to find your voice, so you nod at the man. he gives a sympathetic smile and strolls over to you. 

“you’re in purgatory. well, this is the judgment room. here your memories are played and the most influential ones are used to go to their corresponding terraces.”

“do i pick them out?” he shakes his head. 

“no, the council does that. you just sit and watch.” you shift in your chair, the hard material uncomfortable against your skin. “don’t worry, i’ll be here while it happens. you can call me sicheng.” his voice was hypnotizing, calming your mind. you turned back to the screen, and what you assumed to be the first memory started to play.

a burst of yelling snaps you from your thoughts. looks like we have a new patient. it was like this everytime a new patient arrived. yelling, taunting, sometimes as far as physical assault. it was like the right of passage for ‘newbies’ as the currents like to call them. you leave your office to peek downstairs. this one is surrounded by four guards. that’s unusual. two guards was standard, why does this patient need four? a danger to himself and others i assume. i should ask joy if i can take him. you hadn’t had a new patient in months, and all your others were making such progress they moved to a new unit. one of your patients, named chittaphon, had been released back into society. you were one of the best, even at such a young age. 

“joy! have you assigned the new patient to anyone yet? i’d like to have him.” you plopped yourself onto the couch in her office. her soft laugh brought you comfort. 

“of course you can have him, i was probably going to ask you anyway. you haven’t been busy with any others lately. yukhei is moving to a new unit next week you know. you did good with him, he asked me to tell you thank you.” your heart aches at the thought of yukhei missing you, the boy had become important to you. you would sit and let him talk about his family, his friends, and even his - what he called - soulmate. he would always gush about them and their relationship. you never suspected he could have killed them in such the way he did, or that his ill brain would rewire itself into thinking they were waiting for him to get better and be released from the hospital. the day he found that out was burned in your memory, chairs being thrown and yelling from the entire floor. it broke your heart to see him in such a state, even more when they had to lock him in isolation for a week.

but things change and he got better, and now he’s moving up a unit. more yelling snaps you out of your little thinking session. you and joy peek out her office door to see the new inmate arguing with the guards. you sigh and head down the stairs, as much as joy protests it. one of the guards notices you and tells you to stay back, and that this inmate is dangerous. you shake your head at him and push through to get closer. the inmate didn’t look much older than you, albeit a bit taller than you. he was still yelling at the guards when you came up to him and cleared your throat. he rolls his eyes and turns to you to start yelling, but you shut him down with a stern look at a shake of your head. 

“now, now, you don’t want to come in and be the hardass on the first day do you?” he says nothing, but the lack of arguing from him tells you he is agreeing. you tell one of the guards to follow you to his cell. it comes to no one’s surprise that his cell is in the lower level, it’s where all the worst patients stay. the guard that accompanied you stood directly outside the door of the cell, ready for any assistance. the inmate sat down on the cot provided but faced away from you. “are you going to speak to me?” he spares you a small glance, unwavering in intimidation, but it didn’t phase you. his face was young, yet it somehow seemed to be worn and exhausted. you wanted to open him up and see what his troubles came from, to fix him into a model member of society.

“wouldn’t you want me too huh?” his tone was annoyed and sarcastic. you stay collected and just nod at him. “why don’t we start with your name?” he stays silent. “if you don’t want to cooperate that’s perfectly fine but just know i’m the only one you can talk to if you want out of here.” you stand up and leave the cell, knowing that even though it didn’t look like it, progress was made. your last statement would sit with him until the next time you visit him, and he would talk eventually.

the screen fades away and into a new image. the only thing on the screen is the word ‘stubborn.’ you are confused as to what it means. sicheng makes his way over to you, his long legs making the distance short. “it corresponds to the first level of purgatory, stubbornness. although it wasn’t you who was being the most stubborn, it seems.” he snaps his fingers and a seat appears for him to sit. the screen lights up again and another memory begins to play.

“what do you mean he wants to see me? i just spoke to him this morning and he refused to say anything?” joy shrugs her shoulders exasperatedly. you sigh and make your way towards the lower level. the guard at the security door greets you with a nod of the head before letting you in. the inmate’s cell was at the end of the hall, dimly lit and dingey, with a slight smell of mildew. the underground location made for cold air and small windows, so there was never enough light in the place. as you made your way to your patient’s cell, a few of the other inmates down there whistled at you. they whooped and hollered to your dismay, bringing unwanted attention. you recognized one of them, guanheng was his name. he had been a patient of joy’s before she was promoted to her managerial position. no one else wanted to take him on, so they sent him down here to rot. you had expressed the idea of taking him, but joy wouldn’t have it. she simply said he was too unstable for anyone, and deserved to be down there. you disagree with her to this day, but she is still your superior and you can’t just go breaking rules just for your liking.

you knocked on the door to the cell, and a gruff “come in” came from the other side. entering the cell, you saw everything in disarray. “now, why is the cell in this condition?” he huffs and crosses his arms, almost in a cute way. you shake your head and continue in, shutting the door behind you. “are you going to tell me your name? i think it would help me connect better with you.” he looks at you with a blank stare. you don’t change your facial expression, remaining stoney faced. he sighs and starts muttering to himself, as if he was arguing with someone, before looking back up at you and finally speaking. “yangyang. at least thats what i’ve been told.” you hum lightly before asking him a few more questions.

“is it alright if i call you yangyang?” “yes” “alrightly then, do you remember anything from yesterday?” he ponders for a moment, his face going through a group of different expressions before he looks back to you. “i only know that i woke up and felt like hurting someone. but i can’t remember who or why. do you have any pens?” the last question catches you off guard. you hand him an extra pen from your coat pocket. he takes it eagerly and looks to your clipboard with expectant eyes. you tear a blank piece of paper from the back and hand it over. he immediately draws nonsense doodles, the paper quickly being filled. when he fills it, he flips it over to do the other side. “you can keep asking me things, you know. i like to draw, though i don’t know what. the other voice tells me to just make lines and things.” you’re jotting down notes when all of a sudden he throws the pen at you. it hits you square in the head, and you look up at him in surprise. he starts giggling and throws the crumpled paper at you. you remain calm as this can be a common occurrence among patients. his giggles become… unsettling very quickly, the tone and manner of them turning to a deeper octave. you slowly reach into your pocket to grab the help button, but you don’t press it just yet. yangyang stops his giggling and it becomes muttering. his words are difficult to make out, but you pick out a few, ‘kill’, ‘why’, and ‘forget’. you jot them down along with a note stating he was mumbling them in sentences that were not understood. “yangyang, are you hearing anything? do you know the other voice’s name if they have one?” he peeks out of his arms at you nodding. “they tell me that i shouldn’t have forgotten why i killed her.” you had notes on him that his previous institution gave to you, but you wanted to earn his trust by asking various questions. “who did you kill?” you knew he killed his mother, left her body hanging from the porch for everyone to see. the question cause him to tear up a bit. “i, i killed my mother. she just wouldn’t shut up, always nagging me about the house and bills, as if i could help it. she was a bitch.” “mmm, yes. but you loved her still, no?” he nods shakily as if he was unsure. “and did you forget why you killed her that morning?” another nod is sent to you. you keep taking notes on his behaviors.

you end the session on a positive note, telling yangyang that he did good today and that you’d be back tomorrow, but if he needed you to ask.

the screen once again went dark before the word ‘repentance’ appears. sicheng whips a pen-like object from nothing, grabbing your arm harshly to turn you towards him. “now, you might not like this next part but it has to be done. i have to carve five p’s into you somewhere. they aren’t permanent but it still hurts.” you panic slightly, trying to get away from his grasp.

“why?!” his face is stoic and cold, the seriousness setting in. you continue to struggle until he grips your face with vigor, causing you to stop moving. “stop. moving. it has to be done. now, where do you want me to do it?” you just point to your arm and look away as he does it. the pain is searing but bearable. “what is this for?” he makes the pen disappear before clearing his throat to speak. “for each of the sins that lead to your death, there is a ‘p’. the council shows a memory that corresponds to a sin, and you must figure out which one. if you get it right, you move one to the next one until the end, where you are allowed into heaven. if you get them wrong, you have another chance with a different memory. you only get two chances for each sin, though, and if you lose both of them a ‘p’ stays and it’s harder to get the next one correct. if you get more than two sins wrong, you spend 100 years here and then you are banished to hell. so please, be careful and choose wisely.” and with that he turns his attention back to the screen, as do you.

your appointments with yangyang were productive and you got to know him a lot better within the past few days. he hated dogs, they were too noisy and energetic for him. he really wanted to paint and draw all the time, so you gave him a few paint markers to decorate his cell with. when you had your next appointment, the walls were pretty full. he liked the texture of orange peels, he hated the taste. a lot of the things you learned intrigued you, why was his brain wired this way? you needed to dig deeper, and you knew you could. you had many awards and praises from seniors, your ego was swollen from it all. you took pride in your work, and you weren’t exactly humble about it. you would always brag to others about your accomplishments, and sometimes you made it a competition between you and your coworkers. joy was the only one that didn’t pay attention to it, she always let you go on rants about how you accomplished so many things this young.

the door to yangyang’s cell was the same grey color as usual, though on the inside, the room was filled with markings and random drawings the boy did. “yangie? what’s up?” he excitedly jumps from his spot on the bed over to the corner that the sessions took place in. two small chairs and a table were tucked in it, but it was cozy to you. a warm smile took place on your face as you sat in front of him. “well, today i really tried my best to not get angry with anyone like you said, and it worked! all i did was think about what you said to me and it helped so much. no one messed with me either.” there it is, the rush of pride in yourself. your ego is boosted, refilled for the day. you knew he could do it, with your help of course. you were the best in the field. “that is really good to hear, yangyang. i’m glad you remembered what i told you so you could control your emotions.” his hair bounced with each energized nod he gave you. you opened your clipboard and handed him a small stack of blank paper. “this is for you. now you have something clean to draw on again.” he took the papers excitedly. 

the rest of the session was yangyang rambling on about how you were the only one helping him and how he really liked seeing you. you observed him and from time to time you’d write notes down on his info sheet. every time he caught you staring, he’d blush and look back at his drawings. a smirk carved into your face, and a wink was all it took for him to turn into a stuttering mess. you left the session that day glowing in confidence and pride.

the screen fades away, and you feel a tingling on your arm where one of the Ps is. sicheng’s voice whispers into your ear, “figure out what sin you just witnessed.” it makes you jump a little, but you quickly regain your composure. all you could think about was yangyang. but deep inside your inner conscious, you knew the sin here wasn’t about him. it was about you. “i have my answer.” sicheng gives you a small nod and when you turn back around, a dark and windy figure stands in front of you. a voice not belonging to you enters your mind. “which sin is it, y/n?” with a shaky voice, and sweating palms, you manage to garble out your answer. “it’s pride. i was prideful in my ways, never backing down from challenges that weren’t meant for me.” the dark figure nods before wisping away. the tingling returns to your arm, and as you look down at it a P swiftly disappears. sicheng’s footsteps bring you back up to the screen, which begins to play a new memory.

 the continuous sessions with yangyang proved to be well. his condition was getting better, and he seemed to be taking well to the exercises you gave him. you were on your way to an appointment when joy came up beside you. “have you met with the new doctor yet?” you shake your head. “no, what’s their name? where are they located?” she tries to hide a mischievous smirk, grabbing your arm to stop your walking. “he is absolutely gorgeous! his name is kunhang and he’s actually gonna be on your unit, which means you’re training him since you are the best.” you chuckle at her enthusiasm, she’d always been trying to hook you up with people. she winks at you and runs off, probably to her next appointment. she’d conveniently stopped you in front of yangyang’s cell. you walk inside and see him on his bed pouting.

“what is wrong with you?” his eyes look up at you and shine with the beginnings of tears, worrying you. had the guards or an inmate said something to him? while you’re lost in thought he jumps up and pulls you on the bed with him, his arms wrapped tightly around you. you snap out of it and sit frozen in his arms. the feeling of butterflies in your stomach erupt and you know it’s because of the man in your arms. he lets you go and you stand up to fix your uniform. “what had gotten into you, yangs?” his pouting doesn’t go away and he speaks softly. “who is kunhang?” so that’s what he’s being clingy for. he’s jealous. “he’s a new psychiatrist here. i have to train him.” yangyang didn’t get rid of the pout on his face, and he didn’t let your hand go for the entire session. the jealousy he had even after you told him that nothing was going to happen between you and kunhang was noteworthy, though you didn’t specify why he was jealous on his chart. 

the surrounding air had become cold, and you shiver harshly. sicheng sits beside you, tapping impatiently on the table. the shadow figure returns, and before it can speak you do. “the sin was envy. but why did you show me a memory of someone else being envious? i thought this was about my sins.” the figure doesn’t move from its spot. sicheng sighs and throws a stick at the figure, causing it to grunt. “that was unnecessary, sicheng. you are the reason for this sin. you let yangyang get attached to you, causing him to become jealous and protective of you. you may not have committed this sin, but you had the first hand in causing it.” you nod in agreeance, you had let him get close with you. too close, in your opinion, because if you hadn’t you wouldn’t be in this whole situation. it’s a bit ironic, you always told your coworkers to be wary of patients, yet here you are, stuck in purgatory because of one.

in the days leading up to your death, yangyang requested to see you nonstop, and he would ask so many questions about the outside world. what was surrounding the building, how many people were in the city. in hindsight, you should have suspected him to be trying to escape, but your mind was apparently on other things.

the last day you were alive, yangyang requested you only once. it was around eight in the evening, and this was going to be your last trip to his cell, quite literally. “are you ok, yangyang?” he nods and makes his way over to you. he might be younger, but his height is not small. “i’m just fine. but i wanna ask you something.” you nod to let him continue. “i’m planning to leave, and i want you to come with me.” the words come out of him in a hurry, but you catch them. a pit forms in your chest after hearing them. what in the world was he thinking? your job was important, and he still needed the therapy sessions you were giving him. “no, absolutely not. yangyang you can’t leave without proper check out from me and my superior. you know this.” he sighs in annoyance, grabbing your hand and dragging you to sit. “that’s not the type of leaving i meant. i mean we sneak out and never look back. we leave here and head north to my good friend ten’s house. he has this bigass mansion in the middle of nowhere, and we can lie low there for a while before going somewhere else and starting new!” you can’t bring yourself to say anything, the shock of how much he’d thought out this plan sitting heavy on your shoulders. the courage to say something before he thinks you’re agreeing with him bubbles up. “yangyang, under all circumstances, you and i cannot do that. do you know how many force tasks they’d send out for us? how much trouble we’d be in when they caught us? plus, you still need these sessions that i’m doing. the real world is harsh, and doesn’t take kindly to you. i wouldn’t want you or anyone else getting hurt.” his face contorts into sadness at your statement. he pulls you in for a bone-crushing hug, not letting go. “but i thought you loved me, don’t you want us to be happy together?” your blood runs cold at his confession. love was never on the table, the flirting you’d been doing was just to open him up to make it easier to talk. you knew you were taking a risk doing that, but never had you anticipated him to fall in love with you and think it was mutual. you separate yourself from him and walk to the door. “yangyang, are you being serious? you- you don’t actually think i’m in love with you, right?” his face falls, going completely straight. no movement comes from either of you for a good minute, the situation at hand causing hesitance. “you’re not? i just thought… you were.” you scoff at the boy sitting in front of you. “y/n, i don’t think you realize that i’ve already planned for this. we’re gonna have to leave.” you start to argue with him but a flurry of gunshots and screams ring out from all around you. you turn and pull the door open to see patients and guards frantically running about, a breach in the facility causing this. “jesus fucking- yangyang why in the hell would you do this!?” you turn to see him getting up from the bed and gathering a few items. “yangyang!” he doesn’t respond, only grabbing your arm and pulling you along with him. you’re too much in shock to resist the boy, and on top of that he’s definitely stronger than you. the run towards whatever exit he’s taking you to seems surreal. the amount of trouble you’re going to be in for this is astronomical. you can hear the words “you’re fired” repeating in your mind. outside the door is an alleyway that connects the facility to a power plant. it seemed like they’d had a breach too. yangyang really wasn’t lying when he said you’d have to leave to someplace far away. he drags you into the plant and heads for the large vats of chemicals. “yangyang where the hell are you taking us? what are you doing?” he glances over his shoulder at you, a deathly look on his face. “this wouldn’t have been in the plan if you had just done what i needed you to do. now you have to pay the price.” what in the fuck did he mean. 

the vats were in sight, glowing and hot from the chemicals in them. your surroundings loud from combat, you’d assumed from runaway patients attacking. yangyang stopped in front of the largest one, looking down in it and smirking. he turns to a very shaken you, giggling like a madman. “i think you know what’s in store for you my love. you betrayed me! you gave me all the signs, and carelessly flirted, acting like you liked me.” tears were pouring down both of your faces, but for different reasons. the end of your life was staring at you, loud and proud, and you knew this. you had many goals in your life, and to see none of them get achieved hurt you. you take one last look at yangyang, who is inching closer. “i’m sorry for making you feel like that. i just hope that in the next life, you’ll be a normal person and get to experience life in a positive perspective.” he doesn’t seem to care, because as soon as he gets close enough to you, he grips your face and leans in. “and now, my love, you leave me with a kiss.” his lips lock with yours for a brief second before he shoves you hard, taking the breath out of you. you fall backwards into the vat, the acidic chemicals eating you. yangyang stares at you as you perish, the smile slowly dropping from his face.

one would think this whole tragedy could be easily resolved, but this was not a villain origin story, it was real life, and you were dead. yangyang knew what he had done was fatal, but make no mistake, you knew it was what he wanted. he did love you, but his brain was not the same as a normal person’s. the wiring was simply not supportive of any form of morals, no right or wrong could be detected. all he knew was that you were in the way of him getting out, and he needed you removed. so he did.

and as reality set in for him, yangyang realized that you were the only one who understood him. you were the one to listen to his problems and not look at him like he was crazy, to help him through the intrusive thoughts, and you did that all while loving him. 

he breaks down, dropping to his knees at the harsh reality that you were gone forever, and no longer able to make him happy. the salty tears running down his face provided a blunt sting to the cuts and scrapes adorning his face. his shoulders shook with sorrow and his sobs were melancholic. yangyang can’t even think straight, all his mind is screaming is you. your name, face, your soft hair, warm skin, and the way you laughed at all his stupid jokes. he wants an escape from the voices in his head. the grate walkways that line the perimeter of the vats are loud with yangyang’s manic running. all he wants is freedom from his personal hell, he’s had to deal with people looking down on him all his life, saying that he was never going to be able to be normal, berating him for all the fucked up things he’s done, but never helping him to be a better person, always leaving him to rot in different psych ward cells.

gun. there’s one somewhere.

the one voice in his head that wasn’t screaming made him worry no less than before, but he knew to heed his own advice. it was the only coherent thought at the moment so what’s the harm. yangyang finds himself lost, and begins to get angry until he sees a guard coming his way. attacking him, he easily finds a gun and wrings it from the man’s grip before shooting him dead. the body slumps over and yangyang decides that he’d rather not die next to it. he is far too lost to try and get back to where he pushed you to your timely death, so he just runs until he finds a room. unlocked and unoccupied, he slips in and locks the door behind him. 

the leather chair that he sits in is worn and comfortable. the desk has various papers scattered around, and the computer is off. yangyang takes one good look at himself in the reflection of the screen before pulling the trigger.

the judgement room is even colder than before. you sit in the uncomfortable chair, tears streaming down your face and sobs ripping through your chest. sicheng sits, unaffected by your pain. the shadowy figure appears in front of you, so close you can hear whispers of a large multitude floating out of it. “y/n, you must finish the trial. what was the last sin?” you try your damndest to compose yourself, wiping the tears and hiccuping. “i- he was…” “no, y/n. no excuses. what is the sin displayed here?” you didn’t need this figure up your ass about it, the answer was obvious. sighing, you look up at it, seeing it slightly resembles a man. “wrath.” the figure hums in response, moving over to show the screen again. in large font and bold letters, the word “repentance” is shown. “you have passed judgement, and you shall be going to heaven. are there any questions?” 

[snickiebear]

Hello, snickiebear! Congratulations on your 200 followers! If you have the time, would you mind writing Shisui x Sakura in a nonmass au? I’m actually curious about your take on a time travel scenario with this pairing, but I also understand that a lot of works have been written on time travel already, so it’s still awesome if you don’t do the time travel part!

Congratulations again and thanks for taking the time to read this ask! Your works are really enjoyable to read. Thank you so much for writing and for doing this 200-follower event!

hello lovely anon!!! thank YOU for reading and requesting!!!! this one was so much fun to write! you ask for time travel + nonmass + shisaku? i am helpless to deliver!! this is a bit more angsty than i wanted but are we surprised? (nope, not at all lmao) this is also now on AO3 bc i really liked it!

also, apologies that this took a bit!! lifes been a real fuckin bitch and the wall of writer's block hit me like a train AHAHAHA but i hope you like this one!!! :)))

The sky is sunny and the spring beautiful when the sky splits itself in half with a brillant, blinding flash of light.

Shisui, masked and riding the after mission high, can only stare as a body plummets from that crack, limp and silent.

It is as if the heavens have spit out what they have deemed unworthy.

Or perhaps, the heavens are dropping a gift on their doorstep.

Either way, Shisui is moving before he knows what is happening, catching that body— a woman with shaven pink hair— and holding her close, head tucked under his chin.

She’s breathing, chest rising and lowering feebly.

Shisui catches his breath as the fracture within the sky closes and only then does he notice the mask.

Porcelain and painted. A combination of a snake and fox, a wolf and slug.

His ANBU team materializes next to him, Dog-taicho’s chakra going from lazy to alert at the sight of the woman. “That’s…”

“Yeah.” Shisui says hoarsely. “She- she needs medical attention. I think.” There is a lot of blood, she’s dripping in it. But he can’t see where she’s bleeding from… or if all that blood is even hers.

“Let’s go.” Dog-taicho cuts through his thoughts, voice hard and a bit panicked. Afterall, Kakashi owes his life to this woman, they all did.

Team Ro blurred out of existence in their race to Kohona, their Savior clutched within his arms.

.

.

.

It's funny, really. When she looks back, as she so often does now, it's laughable. The fact that Haruno Sakura, the civilian born, the nobody, the weak one of Team 7 is the only one left.

Sakura was the only one left in the war against Kaguya and she had done what she has always done; what was needed.

So, Sakura was the only one left and she figured out what was left of Naruto’s seals and shot herself through time to fix everything, to save everyone. To take down Danzo, Hanzo, Madara, to save Sai, the Uchihas, Kakashi.

She was the one to heal Obito, to save Rin, to make sure that Itachi’s hands would never be stained with his family’s blood.

And now, now she sits in a T&I room and she laughs, laughs herself hoarse because she succeeded, she won. And now she is in the future, her intended destination, but it is not the same.

In this future, Haruno Sakura does not exist. She is nothing and no one.

Naruto and Sasuke are alive and well and happy. They get to live the lives they could have only dreamed about.

And Sakura. She doesn’t exist.

She laughs herself hoarse, the laughs turning into broken sobs and she drops her forehead to the table, hiccuping and clenching her hands into blood inducing fists.

Alone. As she always has been.

The door creaks open and Ibiki steps in, a folder in hand.

Sakura’s head snaps up, wiping her face as she almost sighs in relief. She loved (loves?) Ibiki, he once was one of her closest friends near the end. She knows Ibiki, trusts him. Or, at least, she had.

Sakura straightens in her chair, careful of the chakra suppressing handcuffs that really do nothing for her, just acting as a hindrance. But, she does not remove them because she is not a threat to Konoha, she never has been, never intends to be.

Ibiki sits down in front of her, eyeing her carefully and it almost feels like coming home. “You say your name is Haruno Sakura.”

“Yes.” She rasps, licking her cracked and bleeding lips. “That’s right.”

Her eyes flit to the glass window, ignoring her own reflection as she narrows her eyes at whoever is behind the wall. An unknown chakra signature, wild and worried. And— and—

Kakashi.

His cool and lazy chakra, almost like a current of electricity. She would know that chakra any where, as if it is engrained deep in her bones. And right now he’s interested, almost antsy.

Swallowing, Sakura looks back to Ibiki, who had been watching her keenly. “You already had Inoichi-san do a mind walk. You know everything I do.” Shoulders back, chin tilted, spine steeled.

The dead man that sits in front of her hums and opens a folder, “We believe you—”

“It is not a matter of believing.” Sakura snaps, eyes flashing. “You know it is a fact. He saw, he showed you, you saw. How could I ever make something like that up?”

“What we know,” Ibiki says too calmly, too pleasantly, “Is that you are severely traumatized.”

And Sakura well, she laughs again. Because. Because what else is she supposed to do? She gives and gives and gives and is given nothing back.

There are no fruits for her labor, no reward for her sacrifice.

Shoulders shaking as she cries and laughs, scrubbing at her face. “We were friends, you know.” She manages. “I made you laugh twice, once after I lost my middle finger,” Sakura holds up her hand to show him, unsure of why she is even talking. “The second when you were dying in my arms.”

Silence rings out as Sakura gathers herself, swallowing harshly. Ibiki is still looking at her, but the way is no longer cynical, no longer studying.

“Haruno—”

“Just Sakura,” She says wearily.

“Sakura-san,” He continues, “When you were brought in you had a mask on. A mask that has been seen countless times saving Konoha shinobi.”

Sakura does not dare mention the fact that she has also interfered with Suna, giving Gaara the childhood he deserves. And with Mist, cutting the head off the snake quickly enough that the caste system would never truly solidify.

So, she nods. “I am aware.”

“And you claim you are the person behind the mask on every occasion.”

Sighing, she runs a hand over what is left of her hair and makes direct eye contact with her once friend, giving a curt nod, “I am the person behind the mask.”

“One last question, Sakura-san.” Ibiki murmurs, jotting something down in his folder. Sakura forces herself not to read the familiar writing. Though, she is well equipped to read upside down. “How did you come to possess the rinnegan?”

The air drops from mildly uncomfortable to freezing and Sakura does not balk at the question. “You saw it for yourself, Ibiki. It was a gift.”

“Yes, but from who?”

Her heart aches, squeezes at the thought of Naruto, of Sasuke, phantom pains. It is as if she has lost a limb, a piece of her heart when they had turned to ash between her fingers. But Sakura does not waver as she says, “It was a parting gift from Uchiha Sasuke before he died.”

The unknown chakra behind the wall erupts into a mess of emotions while Kakashi’s is mildly surprised if not wary. There is tension between the both of them though.

Which is incredibly amusing considering it wasn’t until much, much later did Kakashi ever see anything to be wary about in her.

(It took her flicking the ground and allowing it to split open and swallow any of their pursuers to convince him that she could very well tear him in half without a second thought.

She wouldn’t though. Team 7 and its members will always be a soft and deeply bruised spot for her. A wound she could never quite heal. Sakura cannot remember a time when she has ever been bruiseless. She has come to terms with being wounded.)

Ibiki closes the folder and taps it on the steel table between them, he motions over his shoulder and the door opens swiftly, revealing Kakashi and another Uchiha with curly hair.

He’s just as she remembers him, except not. Her Kakashi had slouched, had a certain energy about him.

This one, he looks the same, has the scar, the slight slouch. But it is clear that ghosts no longer beat on his back, the world's weight no longer bends him to its will.

Pain races through her heart, echoing physically throughout her body. It hurts. It shouldn’t, seeing her old sensei, her once friend, happy. But it does.

Because while she cannot live without Team 7, it is clear Team 7 can live without her.

She straightens, eyes sharp and body tense as Ibiki stands, chair scraping harshly against the floor and then takes her hands into his, calluses and scars scraping against each other.

Sakura could only imagine what Tsunade-shishou would say if she were to see her, riddled with scars and missing fingers. She could have healed them without a second thought, but chakra had been precious then. Every single ounce had been poured into keeping her precious people safe and herself alive enough to keep fighting.

Her once friend produces a key and unlocks the handcuffs, letting them drop heavily into his awaiting hands before standing up, “Sakura-san, this is Hatake Kakashi,” Her former teacher gives her a hard once over. “And Uchiha Shisui.”

Her skin itches and crawls at Kakashi’s look, cold and unfond, nothing like how she remembers him. And of course, of course he wouldn’t be the man who she had come to adore. He is someone else in this carefully constructed future of her own doing.

The blame, as always, rests upon her weakening shoulders. Sakura is crumbling, her sanity chipping away ever so slowly. It is laughable, really. She wants to throw her head back and howl, she wants to bow and allow herself to scream.

But, if she were to begin to scream, she is not sure she would be able to stop.

So, she gives a curt nod, “Hatake-san. Uchiha-san.”

“Shisui, and therefore the Uchiha, have volunteered to bring you into their custody.” Ibiki goes on, taking a step back. Sakura stays where she is, rooted.

A chill runs up her spine and she looks to Ibiki almost pleadingly. “And you can’t simply dump me into ANBU instead?”

“Mah, Sakura-san.” Kakashi drawls and Sakura’s will cracks. (That bruise will never quite heal.) “I can promise that the Uchiha aren’t as bad as they seem.”

Shisui smiles and it is unlike any smile she has seen before.

She cannot remember the last time she had seen a smile.

“Don’t listen to the old man, Sakura-san.” Shisui says and she’s caught off guard at how friendly he sounds, deep and welcoming. Sakura swallows harshly. “We’re a bunch of assholes but no harm will come to you, we can promise that.”

Uchiha men, she thinks with distaste, will always hold a knife to her heart. And they will always know how to twist the wretched blade to get her to bend for them.

But. But perhaps Sakura could bend, bend and lay and rest. Just once. And this time she'll bend for herself. Perhaps.

She finds herself nodding, hands shaking despite the steel in her spine, her shoulders still straight. “You’re going to just let me go.”

Ibiki gives her a hard look and Sakura’s lips twitch. Ah, of course not. The Uchiha compound is just a glorified prison. Then again, it is much better than anything she thought would happen.

Then again, Saura never thought this would happen.

Too desperate, too blind with the possibility of a chance to see them again, to be whole again. She, for all her brains, all her genius, had not even stopped to think of the possibility that her future would no longer exist.

It is laughable, really.

So she laughs, she clutches her stomach and laughs because what else can she do?

Sakura has done what she has always done; what was needed. And once again, like every other time, there is nothing but black at the end of the tunnel. No light exists for her.

She is to blame for her own destruction, her own crumbling.

.

.

.

“You can come out,” Sakura’s voice calls out and Shisui grins.

He steps from the shadows, two mugs in hand as he comes to sit next to her, offering her the drink. She takes it without hesitation but swirls it before sipping from it, Shisui watches as her eyes light up just a little bit.

Hot cocoa with peanut butter. He had noticed, the last time the clan had it, that she’d snuck four mugs worth.

If Sakura was surprised he noticed, she didn’t show it. She was like that, a one way mirror, giving nothing away even as she saw everything.

“Did you want something, Shisui-san?” She twitches as he scoots a little closer, the fireflies floating around the backyard. “Or did you just want some company?”

Shisui smiles boyishly, tilting his head back to look at her, “Heard that Minato-sama called you into the Hokage’s office again.”

“You mean you heard from Genma, who told Itachi while on their date, who then told you that the Hokage summoned me for the fourth time this week.” Sakura snorts, taking a long drink from her mug. There's a little foam on her upper lip that he fights to not wipe away. “He and his wife keep trying to convince me to let them look at the seals I used.”

Shisui pauses, eyes trained on Sakura as she looks to the sky, head leaning back. Her hair has grown out a little, more fuzz on her head than anything, she looks more alive, well fed. Deep bags under her one visible eye, three nasty scars dissect her face and the rest of her body isn’t any better.

She is the most beautiful, most terrifying, most devastating thing he has ever seen.

“The seals you used…”

“To go back and hop through time like a jack rabbit to save the entire world?” She asks, a wry smile on her face. “Yes, Shisui, those seals.”

He hums, leaning back on the heels on her hands, “Why don’t you just let them look?”

“They aren’t my seals to share.” Sakura half snaps, shoulders curling in, her body strung tight. “Naru— my friend was the one to draw them out, I just figured out the last bit of it. Plus, there is no reason why they need to see those seals.” Her tone sharp, unyielding almost pleading.

Shisui stays quiet until Sakura begins to slowly relax. She gets like this sometimes, tense and defensive. As if trying to convince herself rather than him of her deeds. He knew better than to push, he knew that she had gone through more than anyone would ever go through.

The way Ibiki and Inoichi look at her with the utmost respect can verify that. The way Kakashi and Rin and Obito have gone out of their way to greet her, to help her speaks volumes.

He takes a drink from his mug, studying the stars winking above them. “Hey Sakura,”

“Yes?” She sounds oh so weary. His very soul aches.

“Thank you, for everything.” He doesn’t dare look at her, barely hearing himself over the pounding of his heart. “You don’t talk much about what happened but I know, I can tell that it was horrible. And thank you for saving us, the world.”

She had lost everything, everyone. In that future that she had protected them from Sasuke died, Itachi died, he was dead. He could only imagine what the ruins of that world looked like. He could only imagine what Sakura had to do to survive.

Sakura’s fingers are cold, freezing as they brushes the back of his hand. Shisui fights a shiver, the trail of goosebumps, the thrill. “Oh, oh Shisui.” Her voice is heartbreaking and full of nothing but steel. “I would never allow anyone to endure that. You will never have to endure that, I made sure of it. Never. No one will. I promise.”

Her hand draws back as she brings her knees to her chest, eyes far away and breathes quick. And Shisui, he doesn’t know what comes over him as he scoots even closer and carefully wraps his arm around her strong shoulders, drawing her closer.

And. And Sakura, she allows it. She moves to his side, not quite leaning but touching.

“Are you happy here?” Shisui finds himself asking after long minutes of silence. Sakura’s breath evened out and she sits with her chin on her knees.

Her eye flits to him, weighing and heavy. She looks at him and Shisui cannot help but see the age, the ancientness that has taken root. He wants to pull out the misery within her, wants to hold her tight enough that she will never fall apart without somewhere there to catch the pieces.

He wants to love her, he wants her to let him love her.

“No.” Sakura whispers, as if her unhappiness in a world that does not know her, that has done nothing for her is such an awful, wretched thing. “I miss everyone.”

Shisui cannot say anything so he does what he does best; what he wants.

He stays with her, arm resting on her shoulders and slowly, Sakura allows herself to lean into his side.

Around them, the night settles and the crickets chirp. The heavens had nothing to do with Haruno Sakura, with their Savior, coming to them. No, Sakura is the catalyst of this, of this paradise they now all reside in.

If anything, she is the heavens themselves. And it is about time someone tells her that, shows her that.

.

.

.

Sakura sees them for the first time in the five months she has landed in this new future. Itachi invited her to meet his genin team. Itachi, the man who had once been a mass murderer, is now a mednin and a jounin sensei.

Shisui joins her because of course he does, he has been the one constant throughout this entire ordeal. The Uchihas are nothing like she thought they would be. The Uchihas are everything she hoped they would.

They are loving, friendly, welcoming, and thankful. Mikoto is nothing but heaven sent sunshine and cloud soft embraces, Fukago is nothing but a deep rumbling laugh and fond looks.

No one is the same, nothing is the same.

Shisui is there though, at her side, at her back. She trusts him, gods, she trusts him. Despite her better judgement, despite everything. Sakura trusts Shisui.

So, Shisui joins her as she takes to the roofs and to training field 7. She’s finally been cleared for the mission roster and given her jounin blues. Though, Sakura has yet to decide if she even would enjoy going on missions.

Maybe with Shisui.

But she does not think she has a taste for violence anymore, for killing. Maybe she'll spend her days with Kakashi's dogs and holed up in the libraries. Maybe she'll visit Gaara or Chojuro.

She had yet to meet Tsunade, who had been hunting for her since Minato (the bastard) had let it slip that Sakura was in possession of the rinnegan and the byakugan seal. Shisui is exceptionally good at playing discractor as Sakura flees to rock in a corner until he finds her. He's good at that, holding her, letting her breathe, allowing her to find solace within his arms and his space.

They step onto the training fields and Sakura freezes mid step to watch as Sasuke, Naruto, and Sai (oh, oh Sai. Sweet Sai, oh.) attack in perfect sync.

They’re fourteen if her math is correct.

They move smooth and swift, nonverbal communication as if they had been working like this for years. It's beautiful, really.

Something ugly claws at her heart, catching on an already scabbing part to rip open a new wound. Simply another reminder that Sakura is not needed. She never was.

It's laughable, really.

Shisui’s fingers massages the sides of her neck with his fingers, the spot where her skull and neck meet. “You’re tense.”

“They have beautiful teamwork.” She chokes out.

He looks at her, long and open, “We can go home, if you want.”

Shisui’s good at that t00, the open ended question, the way of making her not feel trapped. He's too perceptive for his own good, she has yet to tell him anything except what is on record. But, but. He knows. He knows of Kakashi, of Naruto, Sasuke, and Sai. It is both a relief and a terror. “No.” She manages, curling her hands. She is Haruno Sakura. She has faced the impossible her entire life. Ghosts are nothing compared to gods.

At least, that is what she tells herself.

“I’ll be fine.” Sakura glances up at him, licking her lips. He watches the movement before his eyes flit back up hers and he offers one of her favorite smiles. The one where his dimples are visible, where she can see the small chip of his front tooth and the way his top canin is a little crooked.

Itachi calls the spar minutes later, the boys slumping onto the ground and breathing heavily. Sakura offers a small smile as Itachi nears them, waving a hand in greeting.

“Ah, Sakura-chan.” He grins, then looks to Shisui, dry amusement clear in his tone, “Shisui.”

“You’ve trained them well,” Sakura praises, watching as Naruto (oh gods, Naruto with his big blue eyes and blonde, blonde hair) pulls a limp Sasuke (a Sasuke who laughs freely, who smiles, and is loved) onto his feet, Sai huffing a chuckle from the ground.

Itachi practically beams at the praise, “They are very talented. And you would like to meet them, yes?”

Shisui’s thumb traces the bumps of her spine and Sakura is reminded that she has forged herself from the ashes of her friends, that she is borne from war and steel. She can do this. Shisui is here and she can do this. “Yes, I would love to, Itachi.”

Shisui’s hand burns through her clothes as they follow Itachi, the boys immediately catching sight and freezing at the sight of them. Sakura will never admit it out loud that she has been avoiding any and all people from her past (present? future?).

One look at Ino, whole and happy and sassy, and Sakura had almost gone insane. And then Shikamaru and Chouji, all together, all smiling. Gods, Sakura had fallen to her knees at the sight. Such grief, such loneliness—

She’s better now. She is.

“Team 7.” Itachi says, “This Haruno Sakura, and you already know Shisui.”

Silence.

Sakura shifts under the wide eyed gazes of the boys, the men she loved (loves?) with her entire being. “It is a pleasure to meet you,”

Naruto recovers first because of course he does. And he smiles at her, he smiles at her and Sakura wants to claw at her skin and cry. Shisui intertwines their hands, as if sensing that urge.

“I’m Uzumaki Naruto!” He’s fourteen and he's alive and he’s happy. He isn’t out of the village, he’s here because he has a clan, he has a family. “Is it true that you’re the Savior?”

Sasuke smacks him in the back of the head with a scowl, “Be polite, dobe.” To Sakura he offers a bow, “It is pleasure to meet you, Haruno-san. I am Uchiha Sasuke.”

Sakura’s lips twitch despite herself. Never, not once, did Sasuke ever bow to anyone. He had always been arrogant, but here? Now? It's laughable, really.

She glances to Sai and he isn’t as pale as he once was, his cheeks are full of color, his eyes brimming with life. “I am Senju Sai, Haruno-san.”

And. Sakura pauses at that. Senju Sai, huh. Perhaps she'll have to face Tsunade sooner than later. The thought added to the dread filled pool in her stomach. But. But, she could do it. Maybe.

“It is very nice to meet you all,” She croaks and then offers a very brittle smile. “And Naruto-kun,” She fights a shiver at the honorific. “That information is S class, but find me when you make jounin, hm?” And for a moment she could pretend that everything was okay and she was teasing her Naruto. Just for a moment.

Much to her amusement, all three boys pout, looking to Itachi who shrugs, “You heard Sakura, now, let’s see formation Alpha but reverse.”

The boys groan and Sakura can’t help the smile, a smile with teeth.

She can feel Shisui’s eyes on her before she even turns to look at him. Her body is shaking, Sakura realizes blankly but Shisui still holds her sweating hands, squeezing ever so slightly. “Ready to go?”

Sakura swallows, staring up at him, studying him. And oh, she is so tempted to uncover her eye, to memorize his face. “Yes. Let’s… let's go home.”

.

.

.

He wakes to warmth pressed against his chest, warm breaths against his neck. Their legs are tangled, her arm thrown over his side and brushes against the bare skin of his back. Both of them are missing their clothes, Sakura preferred being able to feel the skin on him, the brush of flesh between them.

What they have, it is something deeper than any type of physical act. No, what they have… well, Shisui can not put it to words. There are no words. There will never be words.

It is rare for Sakura to sleep soundlessly and through the entire night. Shisui kisses her forehead, above her seal, on one of the many scars of her face. She doesn’t stir except to shift ever so slightly, hugging him closer.

And if Shisui’s heart melts, no one else is there to see the absolute brilliant smile on his lips.

“Sakura,” He murmurs because if she doesn’t get up soon, she’ll miss her lunch with Ibiki (who gets very grumpy when his time with Sakura is cut short), “Sakura.”

She grumbles, limbs tensing for a moment, a single breath before melting once more. “Shisui,” Her voice is rough with sleep, the sound swirls and dances around his bones. “G’mornin’.”

Shisui laughs, a soft push of air, as Sakura leans back to peer at him, both eyes uncovered as she studies him, the look like a physical caress. “Good morning.” He whispers, kissing her forehead once again.

“What time is it?” She murmurs, eyes drooping closed.

“You’ve got about an hour before Ibiki comes knocking.” Shisui chuckles.

Sakura snorts, pulling away to stretch her arms above her head, arching her back in the way that Shisui can admire every muscle, every scar, every part of her. “Then I better get up,”

“Or, you could always stay,” Shisui cajools, to which Sakura only laughs. The sound is beautiful and full and makes his heart beat a little faster.

“The last time I canceled on Ibiki was when I had to help Itachi with his and Genma’s wedding plans, and he sent little Terror Ino after me for a week.”

Shisui cracks an even wider grin, “Well, at least you got some nice clothes out of it.”

Laughing again, Sakura leans down to kiss him, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Go on,” Shisui shoos, making a little gesture with his hand. “Have fun, I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

She cups his face, thumbing the sharp of his cheek bone before leaning forward to kiss him again, "I love you." Then. "I am glad that my suffering brought me to you, that I landed here."

"I love you." He returns, barely a whisper as he brushes hair behind her ears. His heart beats for her, cracks and aches and swells. All for her. "There will never be a time that I will not love you. There will never be a time where I do not see you and see everything you are, everything you have done."

The sky is sunny and the spring beautiful as Sakura, the very heavens themselves, mouth splits into a brilliant, blinding smile.

(Sakura has crumbled and broken, she has fallen apart over and over. She has always known how to put herself together, until she couldn’t.

But Shisui, oh Shisui, he has always been readily available with glue and tape. He will always be there to hold her together with his bare hands, ready to bleed for her, with her.

She has given and given and given. He is willing to give everything back to her tenfold.

It is the very least she deserves, the very least the world can gift her. Shisui will always be willing to give more.)

[ofendlesswonder]

Cat’s glued to her phone as she makes her regular morning stop off at the coffee shop that sits one block from the Daily Planet, frantically jotting down some thoughts about her latest article before they flee her mind.

It’s early, so there’s no queue, and she doesn’t look up as she stands behind the counter, the correct change already in hand.

“Latte, please,” she says, before the barista has the chance to ask for her order, and maybe it’s impolite but Cat, as always, is in a hurry, “make it hot.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The term makes Cat narrow her eyes, but she’s in the middle of an important sentence so she doesn’t berate them, just hands over her money and moves down to the other end of the counter to wait for her drink to be handed over.

“I’ve got a piping hot latte for the woman who never looks up from her phone?”

That makes Cat glance up, ready to snap something uncomplimentary, but the words die in her throat when she locks eyes with the grinning blonde behind the counter. She’s gorgeous, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth, and it isn’t often that Cat is rendered speechless but pretty women have always been her weakness.

“Ah, so you can separate yourself from your screen.” She hands over Cat’s drink, and Cat would swear that she felt sparks when their fingers brushed if the idea wasn’t ridiculous.

“I have important work to do.”

“Every single morning?” The woman asks, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.” She’s relaxed, her hands resting on the counter, and it’s really not fair, how cute she looks in that hideous uniform.

“You don’t know what I do,” Cat replies, her voice haughty, but it’s hard to inflect her usual iciness when she’s faced with such a disarming smile. “And do you know I’m like this every morning?”

“Because I’ve worked this shift for the past five weeks,” comes the reply, the woman smirking now, “and I’ve served you that latte every single day.”

“That’s not true,” Cat blinks, because there’s no way she’s been in the vicinity of this goddess and not noticed her.

“Uh-huh. You come in, I take your order, I hand you your drink, you leave without looking at me. It’s very bad for my self-esteem.” She’s pouting, just a little, and god damn it, that shouldn’t be so adorable.

“I wish I had noticed you sooner,” Cat murmurs, letting her eyes run down the slope of the baristas neck and over defined collarbones – it’s not subtle, but Cat has never been. “Believe me.”

“Oh yeah?” She’s smirking, now, and Cat wants to wipe it off her face, to gain the upper hand.

“Do you flirt with all of your customers?”

“Just the cute blonde ones.”

Cat opens her mouth, ready with a retort, but the bell above the door dings as another customer walks in. The pout returns to the baristas face, and Cat knows that their conversation is going to be cut short – and besides, she should really be sat at her desk already if she wants to continue to one-up Lois Lane.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, lady who never looks up from her phone,” the barista says, smiling as she starts to turn away.

“You can call me Cat – it’s much easier to say.”

“Alright, Cat.” Cat likes the way she says her name, like it’s a precious gift that’s been bestowed. “See you around.”

Cat is halfway to the door before she realises that she never found out the baristas name.

She half-turns, smirks when she sees the barista watching her leave, and just about manages to read the name on the tag on her apron.

Kara.

It suits her.

//

There’s a spring in Kara’s step when she opens up the coffee shop the next morning.

She’d been admiring Cat from afar since the first day she’d walked in (how could she not? The woman was beautiful, walked with a confidence that Kara would never possess, and the tiny frown she got between her eyebrows when she was really concentrating on what she was typing was beyond adorable), waiting for the opportunity to talk to her, but it never came.

Yesterday she’d been possessed with the need to try and get the other woman’s attention, and it had paid off even better than Kara could have dreamed, and she’s already looking forward to their next interaction.

Except it never comes.

Cat always walks in at precisely 7:25 (never a minute early, never a minute later, and Kara has often wonder how she does it), but the clock hits eight and there’s still no sign of Cat, and Kara’s mood turns a little sour.

“What’s up with you?” Her co-worker, Winn, asks when he arrives for the start of his shift. “You’re usually so… peppy.”

“Nothing,” Kara lies, because it would be ridiculous to admit aloud – her crush has been growing for weeks, but she’s only spoken to the woman once, after all – tries to distract herself by chatting away to the rest of the customers she has, but none of them give her the same exhilaration as talking to Cat had.

She’s in the back room on her break when Winn sticks his head through the door. “Hey, sorry to disturb you, but there’s a woman out here asking for you – apparently I don’t look like I can make a latte that’s up to her standards.”

“I’ll be out in a sec,” Kara says, chuckling, because she’s pretty sure she knows who’s going to be standing on the other side of the counter.

Sure enough, she comes face to face with Cat (who, for the first time in five weeks, hasn’t got a phone in her hand), her hands on her hips and her lips twitching into a smile when her eyes meet Kara’s.

“I thought when you didn’t show up this morning that I might’ve scared you off yesterday,” Kara murmurs when she hands over Cat’s drink, keeping her voice low to avoid Winn – who out of the corner of her eye, she can see shooting them curious glances – overhearing.

“Not at all.” Cat’s eyes are apologetic as she leans a hip against the counter, and Kara is glad that it’s quiet, that she can focus her attention on Cat, and she’s wearing a blouse with an extra button un-done and the expanse of creamy skin it reveals is distracting. “My boss sent me across town this morning for an interview.”

“Ah, yes, that important work you keep mentioning.”

“I’m a reporter.”

“You work for the Daily Planet?” Kara walks past the building every morning on her way to the coffee shop. “My cousin’s an intern there. Clark?”

“He’s very nice, but his taste in women is appalling.” Cat’s nose wrinkles in distaste. “Luckily, that doesn’t seem to run in the family.” There’s that confidence again, a lazy smile on Cat’s mouth, and Kara wonders what it would feel like to lean over the counter and kiss it away.

“I have exceptional taste in women,” Kara replies, and behind her, she hears Winn drop something, turns to find him hastily looking away.

Kara isn’t usually this bold, doesn’t know where it’s come from, but Cat makes her want to be, brings it out of her, and she’s glad that she’s able to pull it off without making a complete fool out of herself.

Or so she hopes, anyway.

The shop is getting a little busier, and it’s with some sense of regret that Kara realises she should probably give Winn a hand instead of flirting with Cat.

“I should probably,” she gestures behind her with her thumb, “get back to it. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Barring any emergencies, yes.”

“Bye, Cat.” Kara gives her a little wave, watches her go with a dopey smile on her face that quickly slides off when she turns and finds Winn waggling his eyebrows at her. “What?”

“What was that?”

“What do you mean?” Kara grabs a receipt and starts to make a cappuccino as Winn takes the next customer’s order.

“You know what I mean.”

“We were just talking.”

“Yeah,” Winn scoffs, “and having sex with her with your eyes.”

“I was not!”

“Oh, you were. And hey, I don’t blame you,” Winn says with a shrug. “She’s hot. If a little mean. She didn’t like my cardigan.” He tugs at the sleeve of it, and Kara doesn’t know how he wears it beneath his apron when it gets so warm behind the counter.

“They’re not for everyone,” Kara admits, because some of them are a little loud, but they suits Winn’s personality just fine.

“So, are you gonna ask her out?”

“I don’t know,” Kara shrugs, because harmless flirting is one thing but asking Cat out on her date is something else entirely. “What if she doesn’t say yes?”

“Kara, I saw the way she was looking at you,” Winn says, his gaze unusually serious. “There is no way in hell she’d turn you down.”

//

When Cat steps into the coffee shop the following Wednesday morning, she’s greeted with the melodic sound of Kara’s laughter, feels a twinge of irrational jealousy when she sees the easy smile on the barista’s face as she talks to a woman leaning her arms casually on the counter.

“Hey, Cat.” It’s been over a week since they first started talking, and Cat has enjoyed spending a few minutes talking to Kara each morning, and as she walks through the door, Kara turns to Cat with her usual radiant smile. “The usual?”

“With an extra shot of espresso, please.” The other woman doesn’t move, takes a sip from the cup in her hand and Cat eyes her warily as she stands beside her – she’s pretty, her brunette hair cut short and framing her face, and Cat wonders if she’s been an idiot, for thinking that she was the only customer that Kara flirted with.

Maybe she just wanted to get a bigger tip.

“Oh, crap.” The other woman glances down at her phone. “I’d better get going, or I’m gonna be late – you coming over for dinner tonight?”

“Of course.” Kara hands Cat her latte before letting the other woman pull her into a tight hug, and the kiss that she presses to the brunette’s cheek makes Cat’s stomach twist. “See you then.”

“Love you, have a good day!” Cat blinks after the other woman with something like betrayal sitting in her chest, and tries not to feel outraged when she turns back to Kara and sees an amused smile on her mouth.

“There’s really no reason to be jealous of my sister, you know,” she says, thinly-veiled glee in her voice, and Cat narrows her eyes into a glare.

“I was not jealous.”

“Oh, you totally were.” Kara’s eyes are sparkling. “It was cute.”

“How was I supposed to know she was your sister?”

“You could’ve asked,” Kara points out. “Isn’t that what you do, as a reporter? Ask questions?” She’s teasing, and Cat usually hates that but somehow, from Kara, she likes it. “Not jump to conclusions?”

“There was no jumping.”

“Please. If you had heat vision, I think Alex’s head would have exploded.”

“Would not,” Cat mutters, feeling a little embarrassed, and Kara’s laughter is music to her ears.

“It so would have.” Kara’s glee is infectious, and Cat’s never felt like this before, so drawn to a woman she barely knows, and she can’t believe that it’s only been a few days since they first spoke, because she feels like they’ve known one another for an eternity. “You got a busy day today? From my experience, an extra shot of espresso first thing in the morning usually has a reasoning behind it.”

“I had a late night,” Cat admits. “And a tight deadline.” She knows she works ridiculous hours, but she loves her job and she knows that one day, when she’s at the top of her media empire, it will pay off. “And I should probably be getting to the office to make sure my editor has no issue with it going to print,” she adds, when she glances at her watch – she’s usually at her desk by 7:30, but the temptation to linger and talk to Kara is overwhelming, and she’s been getting in later and later each morning.

Maybe she should start coming in earlier.

“And I should probably start getting ready for the morning rush.” Kara’s eyes are soft as she waves goodbye. “Have a good day, Cat. Enjoy your coffee.”

It seems like an odd comment to make, but Cat thinks nothing of it – until she sets her cup down and sits at her desk, and notices the words scrawled across the cup.

It’s a phone number, along with Kara’s name, and the sweet message ‘call me, if you want?’ with the letters seeming like they were written by a shaking hand.

Her smile is wide and stays on her face for most of the morning, prompting Lois Lane to ask her three times if she’s feeling okay.

//

Kara grins when she receives a message from an unknown number later that day.

I bet this is how you give your number to all of the girls.

She’s just finished her shift and is walking back to her apartment, and not even the light drizzle of rain can wipe the smile off of her face as she reads Cat’s words.

She’d been nervous about giving Cat her number, has tried to ask for it several times over the past week, has tried to ask her out several times, but she’s never quite had the courage, had thought that writing on the cup was probably a little cliché, but also her best bet of actually going through with it.

Only the ones I really like, she replies, and it’s easier to be bold when Cat isn’t standing right in front of her, even if waiting for the response is more than a little nerve-wracking.

I only flirt with baristas I really like, too. Kara reads the message as she’s going up the stairs of her apartment block, nearly trips and drops her phone, feeling like a teenager with their first crush as euphoria spreads through her body.

Want to hang out sometime? Somewhere that’s not at my work?

I’d let you come to mine but I think people would talk, and I have a reputation to uphold.

Oh yeah? And what kind of reputation is that?

Ice queen. Kara would find that hard to believe from her interactions with Cat, had it not been so long since the woman had actually noticed her.

She knows that it would be easy to interpret it as rude, but Kara thinks that Cat was just genuinely that involved in her work – she can see her passion for it, the drive to succeed, and she admires it, thinks it’s the same way she feels about art.

(She just wishes that it paid enough to be a full-time job, so she didn’t also have to be a barista, but then she supposes if that were the case, she never would have met Cat).

And I’d compromise that?

I don’t act like an ice queen when I’m around you. As much as they’ve flirted with one another, they’ve never directly alluded to having feelings, and Kara loves how candid Cat is being, that she’s so direct.

So, we’ve established that neither mine nor your workplace is suitable for a date – how about I take you out to dinner?

Who said it was a date? For a moment, Kara freezes, wonders if she’s misunderstood, or if Cat’s just teasing her.

Do you not want it to be a date? She taps her hands against the side of her phone as she waits anxiously for a reply.

I was kidding! Dinner sounds good. Friday night? It seems agonisingly far away, but Kara could probably do with a couple of days cushion to figure out where the hell she’d actually take Cat.

Sounds perfect.

[littledarlinwrites]

Dream a Little Dream Of Me

1940s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

This is for @teamcap4bucky Summer Sun and Fun Game! Thank you so much for hosting and for being so patient with me when I screwed up the due date. This was specifically written for @majesticavenger, I'm so sorry for the wait, but I hope it was worth it! Anywho, this is the first time I've wrote 40s!Bucky and I'm hella needy at the moment 'cause life, so leave me some love y'all! (Also, as soon as I can jump on my laptop I'll add a keep reading link, I'm not savvy enough to do it on mobile).

You trudged up to your Brooklyn apartment, your cat howling on the fire escape outside your bedroom window to be let in. A tired smile graves your face after a long day of work. A job you were grateful for, but bittersweet under the circumstances, patients sick or dying, and men going off to war only to never return either physically or mentally. You couldn't wait to hide away in your apartment for the rest of the night, draw a hot bath, listen to a radio program before nodding off to sleep. And, if you were lucky, maybe your apartment pen pal had sent you another note attached to your cats threaded collar. The thought of it made you pick up your pace as you climbed your apartment buildings staircase.

You practically ran into your apartment and to your bedroom window, flipping the latch and looking for the paper that was typically wrapped around your cats collar and tied with a baby blue string.

You found the paper, tying the baby blue string to an embroidery hoop with the others you collected. Today the note was short, just a song suggestion, something he would do on a rough day. You drew your bath water while turning up the radio station to catch the song. It wasn't until you were crawling into bed that the song played. Moonlight Serenade. You just hoped Lucky, the nickname he had told you to call him, was somewhere listening to it too.

The following morning you rushed around to get ready for the day and out the door in time. You scribbled your note to Lucky and wrapped it around the cat's collar before shooing it out the window.

----

Bucky laid on his bed, window open, waiting for the furry creature to make its way to him like it always did. Nox, she had said was the cat's name. Usually Bucky appreciated cats from a distance considering they would make him sneezy and itchy, but he couldn't help but enjoy the conversations with his pen pal. Luna, she had said to call her. A nickname her mother gave her due to her infatuation with the giant orb in the sky. He won every single match after he started talking with her, and he didn't consider that a coincidence. 

Bucky heard the mewling from the black cat before he felt it curl up on his chest. He scratched the cat behind its ears causing the cat to purr contentedly before he began unfurling the note attached to its knitted collar. 

“Silently if, out of not knowable

night’s utmost nothing, wanders a little guess

(only which is this world) more of my life does

not leap than with the mystery your smile

sings or if (spiraling as luminous

they climb oblivion) voices who are dreams,

less into heaven certainly earth swims

than each my deeper death becomes your kiss

losing through you what seemed myself, I find

selves unimaginably mine; beyond

sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears

yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:

yours is the darkness of my soul’s return

–you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars”

-E. E. Cummings

Bucky read the poem three times before reaching for a piece of paper and jotting down some words. He wrapped the piece of paper around the cats collar, tying it with a frayed blue string from his work shirt and turned over to get a couple hours of sleep, if only his heart would stop fluttering like a hummingbird in his chest.

----

Walking through your door was a complete relief, even more so after stripping your nurses outfit and stockings. The hot shower relaxing your stiff and sore muscles. You donned your nightgown before opening your window for your cat to come home while running a brush through your wet strands. Eventually you heard the telltale meowing of your hungry cat before you heard its soft padding jumps to your floor from your window. You manage to scoop the black cat into your arms before you have to chase him through your apartment. You pull the thread holding the note onto his collar and unfurl the note to read it.

My lucky star

You shine so brightly

My lucky star 

You guide me through the night

My lucky star

You give me hope

My lucky star

You guide me home

My lucky star

You help me more than you know

My lucky star

Oh how you glow

My lucky star

Please never let me go

The words set fire to your face as your stomach erupted with a swarm of butterflies. You pulled out your journal, pressing the note between the next set of empty pages. You turn your radio on humming along to the song as you lay in your bed fighting sleep just to think about Lucky just a moment more.

When you wake in the morning you grab a paper and something to write with as you write down a couple lines to a song, one of your favorites, before you got ready for the day, humming the tune on your way to work and all through your day. Except, you forgot to leave the window open for your cat to get out to pass on the waiting note.

----

Bucky was fighting sleep waiting for the cat to prance his way through the window before making a home on his bed. Sleep clawed at his mind, his eye lids weighed heavy and sore with a need for rest. And just like that, Bucky fell asleep for the first time without the sound of a cat purring on his bed.

He woke up and walked to the shipyard, loading and unloading pallets until the sun hung low in the sky. He felt off kilter all day. Like he was just a hair off with his footing and could never get it quite right. He was a bit more clumsy than usual. All signs that he should cancel his match tonight and back out while he still could, but he trudged on, assuring himself that he could use the money so maybe he could take his lucky star out on a proper date. He made his way to the Y for his match pumping himself up, he just couldn't help this nagging feeling though that he was missing something.

----

When you got home from work your humming abruptly stopped when you saw your cat staring at you in the middle of the room, tail twitching every so often. Your shoulder slumped when you realized you never let your cat out with your note. You moved slowly to refill the food bowl before making yourself a small dinner. Your gut sinking by the minute that something was wrong. You went to bed that night hoping the feeling would pass by morning.

When you woke you realized you were running late. You dressed quickly before running out the door and to the hospital before checking your patient list, a relatively short one, but you had patients to attend to nonetheless. You made your way through your rounds before stopping at the last bed. A mess of bruises, a boxers fracture, sprained wrist, 2 broken ribs and the rest bruised, a black eye and a concussion. However, one look into the man's eye that wasn't swollen shut took your breath away. You decided then that blue was your all time favorite color. You checked his pulse, administered his medication which involved rousing him from his slumber, and making sure his bandages were fresh and in place. You turned to leave but stopped short at the site of a baby blue work shirt with frayed edges. You thumbed over the loose threads and noticed it was missing a few as if they had been pulled and cut for a purpose. The faintest whisper escaped you.

"Lucky?" A few beats passed before you heard the man you were just attending to clear his throat.

"Luna?" He asked confused. Your hand flew to your mouth as you gasped. You couldn't believe the man that made you blush on more than one occasion, that had worked his way into your dreams even though you had never seen his face, was now your patient.

"You okay there, doll?" He asked. When you barely nodded telling him yes he began to move as if to get out of bed sending you into a flurry of motion. 

"Lucky, you're hurt-"

"Bucky. I mean, my real name is James Buchanan Barnes, but most people call me Bucky." He grits out as pain shoots through his ribcage.

"Well, Bucky, you're hurt, you shouldn't move much quite yet." He nods as he waits for the wave of pain to pass.

"What happened to you?" You can't help but ask.

"I, uh, work at the shipyard during the afternoon, but at night I box. Damn good at it too. Guess luck just wasn't on my side last night, doll."

"Uh, Y/N. My name that is. My name is Y/N." A smile made its way onto Bucky's face.

"Why didn't you write back, doll? Didn't think my on the spot poem was that terrible." The giggle that managed to escape you at his humor about his poetry was like music to his ears, and he decided that he wanted to hear that sound forever.

"Sorry, that was my fault. I wrote you a note, I really did, but I forgot to open the window for my cat to deliver it. I loved your poem actually." A blush crawled upon Bucky's face at your words. 

"What was the note?" He asked curiously. 

"Oh, just some lines from a song, nothing special."

"It's always special coming from you, doll. What was the song?" This time it was your turn to blush.

"Dream a Little Dream of Me." You replied bashfully.

"What lines?"

"Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me."

"That's one of my favorites, doll."

The rest of your shift you spent at Bucky's bedside talking music, poetry, family, pets, friends, where your apartment was and everything else under the sun. You told Bucky you would come by tomorrow to spend the day with him since it was your day off. You couldn't wait to come back, although it was bittersweet realizing there would be no note to come home to. 

When you woke the next morning you heard a tapping at your door. You opened it to reveal Bucky standing there with a bouquet of flowers with a note.

I dreamt a little dream of you.

[yuto-non]

The Photo pt. 2 (M)

Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Dom!Yugyeom, rough sex, spanking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, not really after care, jealousy, gagging

Summary: The photo isn’t your only souvenir.

A/n: Finally~ Sorry it took so long. :( I find myself become discouraged with my writing. Thanks for your support.

Adrenaline flowed through every part of your body, your heart raced with the music and your eyes followed every single moment of Yugyeom’s performance as Got7 performed on stage. Normally, you were entranced by Jinyoung, taking time to appreciate each and every member for their efforts and talents, especially Mr. Jinyoung. Tonight, though..this was a one man show, as far as you were concerned. Your eyes were attached to Yugyeom, like a puppet in his show, you followed him. Completely lost in the way his hips moved to the tempo of the music, the way his arms flowed effortlessly from one move to the next, and the way his eyes locked with yours as he licked his lips. It all felt as though the two of you were the only ones in the room of thousands. Your core was throbbing, the events from prior replaying in your head over and over. The way Yugyeom’s strong arm felt around your waist, the almost whisper-like moan that fell from his lips as he pressed his hard cock into your ass. The absolute thrill of it all. It felt surreal, it all just felt too good, and you needed more.

Each song felt like a lifetime, each second passed by in an hour as you awaited the end of the show. You were enjoying every single second, but it was also two hours of absolute torture watching Yugyeom on stage, teasing you, taunting you with his thrusting, licking and dominating sexual presence as her performed for the packed arena. Your friend was blissfully unaware of the one-on-one performance you and Yugyeom were sharing. She had no idea that Yugyeom was undressing you down to nothing with just a stare. She had no inclination of knowing that your pussy was burning with a need of feeling Yugyeom deep inside of you. The show was dragging on, and your anxiety was building. How would you even get Yugyeom alone? You’re just getting a poster signed, surrounded by other fans, band and staff members. The dreams you had created in your mind for two hours began to vanish as Got7 said their goodbyes, leaving fans in tears and screams while they exited the stage.

“Oh my god! Can you believe that?! Fuck, that was amazing. I can’t believe we get to meet them AGAIN!” Your friend squealed as she took a seat next to you. The dreaded wait began. You plastered on a smile and made small chit chat with your overly exuberant friend as the fans whom weren’t participating in the poster signing, filed out of the arena. Thoughts raced through your head, wrestling with ideas on how you’d possibly find yourself alone with Yugyeom, but no ideas stuck. Nothing seemed to be realistic given the circumstances, and you began to accept the loss to make it easier later on. A deep sigh left your chest as you sat back in the chair, a staff member walking up on the now empty stage.

“Everyone doing the poster sign, please line up off stage right.” Like a hungry swarm of mosquitoes, fans raced to the stairs on the side of the stage, eagerly waiting to see Got7 again. You were less excited than the other mass of fans, which lead you and your friend to the end of the line.

“Dammit, we are so far..” Your friend groaned at her displeasure on the place you had both taken.

“I’m sorry, I’m just feeling a bit tired.” The excuse seemed realistic given your deflated expression and less than thrilled facial expressions. Your friend was too lost in wonderland to notice, and continued to poke her head around the line, hoping for a glimpse of Got7 on stage. Small chattering from fans could be heard as staff members walked down the line, handing out the posters everyone was going to have signed. Right before the staff member extended your poster, the small chattering turned to a huge roar as Got7 walked out on stage. They bowed to the fans, waving and smiling as they lined up, sharpies in hand.

You quickly looked down the line, eyes halting as they fell on the frame of Kim Yugyeom. His long slender legs were wrapped perfectly in black fitted ripped jeans. His shirt fell loosely, tucked behind the most amazing black leather belt. He looked absolutely divine, and your blood ran cold when you caught his attention, his dominating gaze making your knees weak already. You bit your bottom lip, causing Yugyeom to shift his neck to the side uncomfortably before breaking the drawn out gaze. This was torture. The sexual tension between the both of you felt so thick. You couldn’t focus on anything besides the feeling between your legs and watching Yugyeom on stage as he spoke to the fans in front of him.

Your eyes were torn away from Yugyeom as you heard the beautiful laugh of Jinyoung booming through the arena. He was laughing at something the fan in front of him had said, and you found yourself admiring him all over again. He always looked so put together, so perfect, not a hair out of place. His smile was radiant and contagious, bringing a smile to your own face as you watched his innocent interaction with the lucky fans. You slowly made your way closer and closer to the stage, watching all the members as they signed posters and chatted with fans. Your anxiety was growing, you continued to look between the members as well as Yugyeom, searching for an answer to all of the questions rummaging through your head.

You were finally next, and when your friend finished her quick talk with Yugyeom, you moved yourself much too eagerly in front of him, pushing your poster out towards him. Yugyeom’s face graced an evil smirk as he took the poster into his hands and signed it. “Thanks for coming.” He whispered down to you, his eyes black and hidden partially behind his hair. You swallowed hard, already feeling so small and intimidated by just the look he gave to you. You nodded your reply, and as you reached for the poster, Yugyeom’s arms pulled you into a hug. He smelled so wonderful. The musky-woodsy scent went straight to your head, the feeling of his strong arms pulling you close to him, and the fire that ignited on your body from every inch he touched felt like too much. Your body needed him, and you fell into his embrace, forgetting about the poster that was now between both of you. “Backroom.”

The words slipped from his mouth so easily and quietly. Goosebumps replaced the fire on your skin, shooting down to every inch of your body as his voice swept across your ear. You had nothing to say in return, except for taking a step back with wide eyes as you looked around for the door he was suggesting. Before you could ask for a clue, you were swept over to the next member, and robotic-ally handed Mark your poster. What was going to happen in the backroom? Which backroom? How do you get there? You had more important questions to answer than the ones that Mark was asking you to be nice. You felt bad, you wanted to enjoy the fan sign experience. You wanted to thank every member from the bottom of your heart..but your core was throbbing. Adrenaline had replaced all the blood in your body, and you were internally screaming for some release and an end to this absolute torture you’ve been experiencing all night.

The only thing in the world that could possibly take your focus away from what was going on in your mind belonged to the next pair of hands that took yours before singing your poster, Jinyoung. Jinyoung looked down at you, but unlike Yugyeom, did not make you feel small or intimidated. His warm eyes made you feel so safe and protected. Jinyoung signed his name before handing you back your prized possession. “Thank you so much for coming, I hope you enjoyed the show.” Jinyoung sounded so honest and genuine.

“No, thank you. Seriously. I’ve been looking forward to this night for so long.” You returned his smile, nervously biting your lip as you looked up at Jinyoung and into his crystal clear eyes. Jinyoung’s arms found their way around your body, pulling you in for the warmest hug you’ve ever experienced. Your body felt like jelly in his arms, as though you would be protected from everything as long as you stayed in the embrace. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment, all thoughts of Yugyeom fleeting from your head as you rested in the comfort of Jinyoung’s arms. The moment faded as the embrace ended, your bodies pulling away from each other, and a rush of cold air coming between the both of you. One last look, and you were down to the end of the line with Bambam. While Bambam jotted his name down for you, you looked down the line, hoping to connect with Jinyoung again. As your gaze fell on Jinyoung, something caught your eyes further down. Yugyeom. His facial expression looked anything but happy. His jaw was clenched tight and his fists were decorated with white knuckles down at his sides. Your eyes snapped open, and the only thing that brought your legs to move was the sound of a staff member calling for all the fans to meet on the opposite side of the stage. The fan sign was over.

You quickly made your way to the other fans, Got7 waving their goodbyes and singing their last well-wishes to their lovely songbirds as you all huddled near the stairs, waiting to file off. It all happened too quickly. You never got the chance to find that fucking backdoor. You were too lost in Jinyoung, and caught off guard by Yugyeom’s upsetting gaze. Was he upset you didn’t find the backdoor? Were you supposed to have just walked off? Got7 left the stage and your heart fell down to the floor. It was all too fast. Your body was aching for Yugyeom’s touch, but you had ruined every chance given to you.

Staff members ushered you all down the stage, slowly filing you down the small staircase one by one. Your anxiety was taking over, the reality setting in as you inched your way forward. “Oh my god - that was incr--”

Your friends voice was cut off to your ears by a familiar stinging pain. You winced from the sudden shock, your arm being taken roughly by a hand off to the side behind the curtain. You forced back a scream from the sudden grip, jumping slightly before you snapped your head to the side to see Yugyeom’s dark black orbs and sweeping hair. Your legs wanted to move, but your body was in disbelief. You looked ahead of you to make sure your friend and no one else was looking, and before you could second guess anything, you slipped behind the curtain to follow an obviously angry Yugyeom.

Follow would be the ideal word for the situation at hand. You weren’t following Yugyeom as much as he was merely dragging you along, your legs fighting to keep up with his long strides as he pulled you into the back. You could hear the faint voices of the fans as you got further and further away, and once you found the both of you behind a door in the back, the voices had all vanished.

“Hey, sorry for--”

“No.” Yugyeom interrupted your apology as he locked the door behind you, turning to see you standing there, watching his every move.

Your body felt heavy, your breathing picked up as the nerves began to spark inside of you. Your legs wouldn’t move despite the pleading inside your head as Yugyeom stood in front of the door, facing you. “I asked you to meet me here.” He growled. Taking a single step forward. Your body screamed, panic setting in. He looked annoyed, and it terrified you. “And what did you do?”

The question didn’t really need an answer, thankfully, because you had forgotten all words as you continued to watch Yugyeom. The sound of metal rang through your ears and your eyes trailed down to his hands. Yugyeom’s pace towards you was slow and tormenting as he undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops one by one, his eyes never straying from your figure before him. Swallowing was painful, and you were suddenly very aware of just how soaked you must have been between your legs. He had not even touched you, all he had done is terrify you, and there you were. A dripping mess already.

“You ran right to Jinyoung. You ran straight into his arms.” Yugyeom’s voice hit you right in the chest, his words like poison on his tongue that he spat at you. You were suddenly jerked from the moment and stumbling on your words for an excuse.

“No, I-”

“I said. No.” Yugyeom was now right in front of you. Only a few inches separated your bodies with his belt folded in one of his hands. “I don’t want excuses.” He gave you a reason before you could ask. You could feel the heat from his body. You could feel his breath sweep across your neck as he dipped down to whisper into your ear. “You need to be quiet while I show you why you should’ve chose me.”

You tried your best, but you couldn’t hold back the groan that left your throat from the best words you’ve ever heard. Something about Yugyeom made you want to just be used and be at his mercy. Yugyeom wasted no time, grabbing your wrist with his free hand and spinning you around. The smell of leather filled your senses as his belt was then placed directly in front of your mouth.

“Open.” Embarrassingly quickly, your mouth opened up. Leather now filled your mouth as his belt slid in between your teeth. Without direction, you closed your mouth around the belt as Yugyeom fastened it behind you. “I don’t trust you to be quiet, so this should help.” He smirked at his handy work before turning you back around. His eyes bore into you, drinking in your figure as you stood before him. Your legs rubbed together, attempting to lessen the intense feeling of need that throbbed at your core. Yugyeom’s eyes landed on your needy action, his hand going down and parting your legs as you stood, his body following so he was kneeling down in front of you. His hand started at your knee, gripping it softly before trailing up your thigh. You wanted to scream into the belt from the slow movement, you were already so needy, that this was just going to drive you mad. Your hands found his hair, testing your limits as you circled your fingers into his locks.

Yugyeom didn’t react, and continued his hands journey up your legs. You tightened the grip on his hair as his hands got closer to your center. His hands didn’t quite get to the place you wanted them, and instead continued upwards to the waist of your pants. You whined into the belt as Yugyeom’s hand rested on your waist.”What’s wrong, kitten?” He purred. His hands gripped your waist harder as you whimpered your reply, unable to speak past the belt. Yugyeom’s hands made their way to the front of your pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them down your legs. His eagerness began to show as he brought his hands right back to your waist and began to pull your panties down right after. You moaned into leather at the feeling of cool air rushing to replace the heat of your dripping cunt. Yugyeom licked his lips and leaned forward, his warm breath now fanning over your center. Without warning, Yugyeom's tongue painted a thick strip up your pussy, collecting the dripping juices and sending your eyes into the back of your head from the feeling. His tongue was slow, moving back out and giving you small and gentle licks. Your moans hit the leather of his belt over and over as you tried your best to keep standing from the overwhelming feeling. Yugyeom’s hands found your hips, holding you steady while you worked on your pussy with his mouth. His lips circled your sensitive clit, flicking it gently with his tongue and causing your hips to thrust towards him in search of more. Yugyeom’s hands went to your ass, grabbing it roughly and pulling you closer to him as he ate you out hungrily. His moans against your clit had your head rolling to the back, your grip on his hair becoming tighter as you tried to push him closer. You needed more, and Yugyeom had you closer and closer with every flick of his tongue.

Muffled swears came out of your mouth, and your hips tried to fuck his mouth as best as you could, until he stopped. Protesting in the form of whimpers came from you as Yugyeom licked all of your juices from his mouth as he stood up in front of you. “You taste so fucking good, kitten. And to think you wanted to give that to Jinyoung and not me..” He still sounded so angry, jealous even, as he spoke to you about Jinyoung. Yugyeom turned you around and gripped the back of your neck, pushing you forward to a chair. Right before your knees hit the chair, Yugyeom pulled your neck back, stopping you in your tracks. You didn’t dare move, you remained where he had stopped you as he walked around to the front of you and looked down at you, your pussy dripping, your eyes begging him for more. Yugyeom palmed his cock through his jeans as he drank you in, licking his lips again.

He began to undo his pants, never taking his eyes off of your face as he did. Once his pants had loosened, he slid his pants and boxers down, releasing his cock and forcing your eyes down to see for yourself. You bit down on the leather at the site of his cock, pre cum dripping off the tip and Yugyeom’s hand wrapping around it tightly. Yugyeom sat on the chair, stroking his cock and staring up at your hungry eyes. “You can make it up to me by coming here.” Yugyeom’s free hand grabbed your wrist and tugged you so you were straddling his lap in the chair. His cock was throbbing in his lap, waiting for you to move. You moved your hand over his length, replacing his hand with yours. Yugyeom took a sharp breath in as your hand wrapped tightly around him, stroking him slowly. You loved the feeling of him in your hand. He was so thick, so hard, just for you. Yugyeom groaned out, thrusting his hips up slightly. “Don’t waste time, I can’t stay forever.” He gestured you to have a seat. You lowered yourself closer to his lap, his cock waiting for your dripping cunt as you both watched in silence. Your blood was rushing to your head, you almost felt weak from the amount of excitement that was pushing through your body the closer you got to him. He felt so warm and strong, his cock looked absolutely delicious and you wanted nothing more than to feel him stretch you out in every way.

Yugyeom watched as his cock brushed the lips of your pussy, sending electricity down your spine as your ached your back and slowly began to lower yourself onto him. He stretched you out so much, a slight tinge of pain was mixed with the intense pleasure you felt as your pussy began to wrap around every inch of his cock. Yugyeom became impatient and reached his hand up to wrap into your hair. With one tug down, your body collapsed, slamming his cock deep inside of you and pulling a scream from your throat that fell against the leather belt propped in your mouth. Yugyeom’s hold in your hair became stronger as he began to fuck you. You lifted yourself up some so Yugyeom could thrust inside you faster and deeper, wanting to feel every inch of his cock as it slid in and out. Yugyeom’s moans were music to your ears, biting and sucking your neck between pants and growls. His free hand grabbed your hip, pulling you into him in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck, I need to hear you.” You took this as your sign, undoing the belt behind your head as Yugyeom relentlessly fucked your needy pussy hard. As soon as the belt loosened enough, you pulled it down your jaw and let it hang around your neck as you screamed out his name, begging him to fuck you harder.

“Please! Fuck, Yugyeom! Fuck me, please fuck my pussy harder!” You cried out, grabbing his shoulders and sinking your nails into his shirt covered shoulder. Your neck gave out, your head collapsing backwards as the sounds of moans filled the room from you and Yugyeom.

Suddenly, Yugyeom stopped. Your neck regained it’s strength and you locked your needy eyes on Yugyeom for a reasoning. Yugyeom smirked at your protest and lifted you off of him with ease. Without saying a word, he grabbed your neck again, leading you to the wall and pressing you against it. He leaned his body against you, lava flowing between the both of you anywhere he touched. His cock throbbed against your ass, and you pushed back against him with a whine, begging for him to continue. Your wave was close to crashing, your juices were spilling out onto your thighs and all you needed was a few more moments of Yugyeom fucking you to bring this wave of pleasure down onto you.

Yugyeom moved your hair to the side, biting your neck as he thrust his cock into your ass over and over, slick from your juices and easily able to slide against you. You needed him inside of you, but the feeling of his hard length sliding against you was wonderful, and created whimpers in your throat as you pushed back against him in rhythm. Yugyeom continued to use your bodies pressed together to fuck you, moaning into your ear as he pleasured himself.  “Yugyeom, please..inside of me..”

You breathed out the words using some of the last air you had, your breathing coming in small and short bursts. You spread your legs for him, begging him to give you what you needed. Yugyeom took a step back and brought your body with him. Using the extra space between you and the wall, Yugyeom bent you over. Your hands came out to balance yourself on the wall, giving Yugyeom easier access to your soaked core.

“I still…” There was a pause as he spoke. The silence seemed like forever, but was realistically only a few seconds before a sharp pain hit your ass. His hand left a bright red print on your ass, causing you to jerk forward from the shock. “I don’t understand..” Another pause, another slap.

“Why.” Slap.

“Would you choose.” Slap.

“Jinyoung.” Slap.

“Over me.” Another slap. Every slap harder than the next. You bit down on your lip to stifle the screams that threatened to escape as your ass burned from the contact of his hand. Yugyeom rubbed your sore ass, continuing to give you slaps on alternating cheeks until your ass was perfectly marked to his liking. Once he was satisfied with his work, Yugyeom took up behind you, and slid his entire cock into you with little to no warning. You screamed in pain and ecstasy. You were dripping down his cock immediately, your pussy absolutely begging for him to fuck you harder, tightening around him every single inch as he sunk into you. One of Yugyeom’s hands reached up, grabbing your hair and pulling you up some to arch your back, allowing him even deeper into you.

“I want you to feel me tomorrow. I want you to fucking remember this night.” His words sent fire into your core, your stomach turned in pleasure at the thought of his marks all over you. You clawed at the wall for something to hold onto as he fucked you harder and harder with every word.

“You’re so fucking hot. I couldn’t stop watching you all night.” His cock stretched you out more and more with every thrust of his hips. The moans he was creating, the feeling of his length all the way inside of you, the tightness of your pussy wrapped around him and the words he continued to speak were sending you into bliss. Your eyes shut as you pushed back onto him harder.

“Fuck me, please, Yugyeom, I need to cum!” Your body was about to explode. You already felt light headed from the amount of blood that was rushing so quickly through your system. Your heart was about to burst from the intense pleasure that threatened to break at any point if Yugyeom continued. Yugyeom’s grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you back more.

“Then, fucking cum for me.” He demanded as he fucked you harder than you thought possible. You screamed into the silence of the room, white pleasure washing over you as you fell into a state of absolute ecstasy. Yugyeom didn’t slow down, fucking you harder and harder, his cock slamming into you and stretching you out, sending you over the edge in the best way. His cock finally stilled some, twitching inside of you as he came.

“Fuck, fuck you feel so fucking good!” Yugyeom tipped his head back as he screamed out for you, his cum spilling inside of you and adding to the intense feeling you had throughout your entire body. Yugyeom stopped moving, keeping his length deep inside of you as your bodies rested against one another and the wall. Your breathing and his were the only noise you could hear as you both regained your breath. You felt so weak, but so full and satisfied. Your entire body tingled with satisfaction and warmth. His breath fanned across the back of your neck as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

After a moment of regaining composure and oxygen, Yugyeom pulled away. Your body was shocked with cold air, a contrast from his warm body. Your body felt so weak and heavy, and you slid yourself down to the floor to rest as Yugyeom disappeared behind a door. He returned with some water and a blanket, offering you your pants and the other items.

You thanked him, dressing yourself as best as you could from the floor and wrapping yourself up in the blanket. You weren’t exactly cold, but it felt nice to be bundled up. Your emotions were as numb as you felt, tired and exhausted, and processing what just happened was for another time. Now, you just wanted to live in this moment, and let is happen. Just as your friend has encouraged.

Oh fuck. Your friend.

You frantically searched for your phone, retrieving it from your pocket.

Calls and texts,  concerned words in every message.

“You should go. We both are being expected.” Yugyeom nodded towards your phone. You didn’t want to leave, but you also couldn’t leave your friend hanging any longer.

“I hope to see you again, kitten.” Yugyeom leaned forward, kissing your forehead and stepping away from you. “You can follow the exit signs to a back exit.”

And just like that, Yugyeom swept out of the room, adjusting his pants as he left. You got to your feet, legs wobbly, and began to fix your own pants. As you were about to leave you realized.

Yugyeom’s belt was still on your neck.

You grabbed the wet leather and grinned to yourself.

What a great souvenir. Much better than a photo.

[monochromemedic]

Some self insert shit but this time in borderlands so even LESS people will understand

Living on Pandora was hell but I some how tried my best to survive it. Using the technology I found and adapted to myself, a pair of high tech glasses that helped me see and gather info on the battle field and learning how to pick up a gun was probably the only things I could use.  Shields, Grenades, guns, all of it was so dangerous and at any moment it felt like a bandit would come and shake my world to the core. When I joined the Crimson Raiders, things changed.. slightly. Sure I felt more protected but less useful to anyone.  Everyone had more skills then me. Sirens, fight experience, fancy gizmos like holograms. I mean I had a hologram attachment I picked up, sent out a male figure  that’d help me with menial tasks but never one for combat even if I did try to get him to help. I named him Max and he’d pop in to help grab something for me or remind me of something, block a hit but nothing as useful as what half of the lower staff of the Crimson Raiders could do. I felt so useless, especially since there were Vault Hunters left and right of me. And by that I meant I’d occasionally hear about them or see a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, never close enough to meet one. Except Claptrap ironically. But I did my part, helping as best as I could with small tasks until I got assigned elsewhere. Promethea. The city of lights, technology, home of the Atlas corporation and Rhys Strongfork himself. I was told that Rhys was an ally ever since he helped Lilith and the Vault Hunters gather the Vault Key, and was stationed to work under him at Atlas HQ. It was a dream come true.  Rhys, I’d heard stories about him.  The man who was a hyperion nothing, working his way up the chain while Helios was still in the sky... the man who held Handsome Jack in his head and defeated him for a second time and then made a legacy all on his own bringing Atlas back to the manufacturing front.  I was a real big fan of Atlas guns. The fact that I wasn’t the best with a gun helped so the fact that every Atlas gun came with a tracker bullet just made my job ten times easier.  And now Rhys would be my boss. When I got to the HQ people were wondering about, doing paperwork or caring bits of gun and shrapnel, trying to fix create something new out of pieces. Other people seemed like guards, walking around with purpose as they eyed up any suspicious characters. Like me. “State your business.” The man spoke, adjusting the Atlas rifle in his hands. I grew cold as Max quickly manifested in front of me, holding out a small note in front of the guard. He flashed a smile, his form shaking a bit. He might have been high tech but there was still alot to be worked on with him. Maybe with Atlas’s help, Max could be more then just a helping hologram and more of a defensive digital demon.  The guard paused, staring at Max as he slowly dissipated, the small constructor device on my shoulder switching off before he looked at the note that he gave him. “I’m Jenna, from Pandora... the Crimson Raiders. I’ve been sent here to work for Mr. Rhys and help him with whatever he needs.” I spoke up, pointing at the note that stated the same. The guard nodded his head and crumpled the paper up, before pointing forward. “Yes we’ve been expecting you... Mr. Strongfork is waiting further in the lobby for you, he wants to talk to you personally. You can’t miss him.” I stumbled forward nervously, thanking the guard as I passed. He wanted to talk to me? Why, what did I have that made him want to me right out of the blue and not some secretary? It didn’t take long to find him. He was tall, thin, with the red shining arm and glowing implanted eye that couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else. “Ah, you must be our new transfer from the Crimson Raiders. Hi, Rhys Strongfork, Atlas CEO.” He boasted, holding his robotic hand out, a smile plastered on his face. I nervously grabbed his hand and shook it, giving a shy smile before blurting, “Jenna... big fan.. er... love... Atlas, you’re neat.” One sentence in and I already wanted to crawl into a hole. Rhys seemed just as surprised, pulling his hand back and giving a small smile. “Haha, nice to meet a fan of Atlas. Probably why they sent you... You got some nice tech on you yourself, what are those... Advanced R2-7 Reality Glasses? And this...” He pointed a finger at Max’s holo constructor. “This is interesting some sort of holo projector? Looks dinged up though.” I quickly took of the holo projecter, and held it out to Rhys, giving a nervous smile. “Oh well, I found it on Pandora it was some sort of... old Dahl factory and it still worked. I think it’s some sort of helping hologram, I call him Max... kinda like he’s maximizing my efficiency. Maybe he was used for soldiers to be able to fight better on the battle field or maybe for soldiers that just need help with lost limbs or some sort of ... trouble. He’s kinda janky but he’s saved life more then once.” Rhys eyed up the device, asking with a finger to touch it. I gave it to him and his eye began to light up as he scanned the device, studying it with interest as we began to walk. “Yeah...  yeah...  hmm. We should... talk about why your here. Uh, you know that after Maliwan and Katagawa tried to merge with Atlas corporation we’ve been having some trouble. Even after his death Maliwan soldiers is still a bit salty after the complete bashing me and the vault hunter did to that pompous asshole and his luxury junkship... That and Promethea has still been struggling to rebuild. Laser blasts aren’t as easy to fill as you would think they would be what with all the singed earth and the... the bad memories of lost places.” He paused, blinking as he turned back to me, giving a smile. “That’s where you come in. We need as many hands on people as we can and with your skills we can rebuild Promethea back to it’s glory so we can help the galaxy AND the Crimson Raiders with whatever wacky antics they decide to preform. Knowing them it’ll be opening another vault and letting lose another tentacle monster...”  He rolled his eyes  before continuing. “Why I wanted to meet with you is because I got a job for you, I know it’s quick but it’ll show me what to expect from you so uh... try not to disappoint. I need you to go check the wreckage of a certain place that got blasted with a laser to kingdom come, and see if you can clear out the Ratch nests that are there. I’d give some of my guards those duties but honestly we’re all a bit on edge and don’t know how much is there. But YOU, with your glasses could easily sort out what can be there. So I need you to be sneaky, to jot down anything you see, and try to be careful.” Rhys held up Max’s projector in his hand before giving it back to me. “And... as for this little magic maker, I already have ideas for him. I think we could use tech like this and if you wouldn’t mind since you said that it’s ‘jank’ I could get some engineers to do some Atlas state of the art repairs on it and make it battle ready. We could have it as a prototype and if we like what we see maybe we can incorperate it into some Atlas tech. I mean... I haven’t seen Dahl do much with holographic technology... just a bunch of soldier boys going around shooting ... normal guns, pew, pew... haha but... if they aren’t gonna use the tech we could take it and build off it and make it bigger and better. “ “Is... that legal, sir?” “Legal? I... well.. if we don’t completely rip it off no. Besides the last time I had beef with a corporation the CEO dressed up as my personal bodyguard and tried to slice my in twain in a sort of... weird jealousy... oddly stalkery thing... so ripping off tech is the least of my concerns.” I gave a little huff as he walked to the elevator to his office, giving a little nod. “So, i’ll have my people contact your people... person... you... about the location and sent a message to tech development about the projector. You can just pop that off there and we’ll get back to you. So good luck, and oh remember Ratch’s hate fire, and also uh-uh... you’ll get an Atlas gun for this mission just stop buy the -” Rhys was cut off by the closing of the elevator to which he sighed and pointed towards the back, trying to gesture for me to go back there as the elevator ascended. I gave a laugh, holding Max close to my chest, heart racing at the opportunity set at my feet. A chance to prove myself, to Rhys no less. A chance to improve, to grow. It was a dream come true. 

[anistarrose]

Some Sunny Day - Ch. 5: Block Out All the Bad (Gravity Falls Same Coin Theory)

Summary: In which two brothers both struggle to handle everything that’s going on around them, and tell each other two very different lies.

Warnings: Panic attacks, excessively negative views of oneself, and unsafe driving that results in a near miss

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The Beginning

(The Same Coin Theory is by @dubsdeedubs and @renmorris!)

Ford had once written that he was okay with being a hero’s brother, and at the time, it had been true. But now Stan was the one who needed saving, and Ford was doing a downright pathetic job at returning the favor.

I shouldn’t have snapped at him. I just made things worse.

He didn’t believe me when I told him he was worth something. Has he always hated himself this much? Have I really never noticed?

“We’re heading to the mansion to run the scan,” Ford called to Dipper, somehow choking out some semblance of a calm and collected voice. He couldn’t bring himself to forbid the rest of the family from coming along. “You and Mabel can follow with Soos in another car.”

Dipper looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite get it out. Stan stayed quiet too, staring down at his feet as Ford guided him out of the shack.

Ford braced himself for the worst as they exited the unicorn hair barrier, but Stan didn’t say a thing about it — just shook his head and blinked a few times as they crossed the boundary. Then he slipped into the back seat of the Stanmobile, passenger-side, and started nervously drumming his fingers against the window.

Ford probably would have been more comfortable with Stan riding next to him up front, but given how Stan seemed to have deliberately chosen the farthest seat away from him, he didn’t think that suggestion would go over well. Instead, he just adjusted his rearview mirror until Stan’s face was visible, and then began to drive.

The road was infuriatingly indirect. He couldn’t believe that he’d never noticed how poorly designed it was. It took switchbacks up a series of hills that weren’t even that steep, and wound through patches of trees that would each block the sun for a second at a time before it reappeared, made even more intense on the eyes by the constant alternation with shadow.

Gripping the wheel more tightly than he should have, Ford lowered his foot on the accelerator —

“STOP!” Stan suddenly shouted, and Ford slammed on the brakes on instinct, not giving a single thought to whether he could even trust his brother’s voice at the moment.

From around the bend, a deer leapt out and bounded across the road. Ford couldn’t be sure, but if he’d kept on driving at that same speed, he probably would’ve hit it.

What he could be sure of was that Stan shouldn’t have been able to know it was coming, not from where he was sitting in the car. There was absolutely no way he could have seen around that turn, not when Ford himself hadn’t been able to see from the driver’s seat.

He heard Soos’s truck come to a halt behind them, and then the sound of a door opening. “Mr. Pines-es? Are — are you guys okay?”

Stan made a small, sad noise of distress. It could have been because of the worry in Soos’s voice, or because Stan realized how impossible the thing he’d just done was, or both. But no matter the reason, it made Ford’s heart sink and his stomach churn.

He tried to roll down the window, bit back a swear after finding it was jammed, and just swung the door open.

“There was a deer in the road,” he replied as calmly as he could. “I stopped to avoid hitting it, and it’s gone now. That’s all.”

Soos was looking at him with a concerned frown, and Dipper and Mabel probably were too from inside the truck, but Ford turned around before any of them could say anything. He didn’t want to keep them in the dark, but he would have more time to explain later on; for now he had to focus on getting Stan safely to —

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a birch tree looming amongst the pines at the corner of the bend, and for a moment he could have sworn the rips in its bark were giving off a faint golden light.

He ducked inside the car and started driving without looking back. The only times he took his eyes off the road were to check on Stan in the rearview mirror, and each time, it got harder and harder for Ford to convince himself he’d only imagined that hint of yellow reflecting off his brother’s glasses.

***

“Ya see, I’ve made some more upgrades to this fella since ya left on yer sailin’ adventure,” McGucket explained to Ford as he fit the helmet over Stan’s head. “Should only take seven minutes to complete a scan now, give or take.”

“But it still works off the same algorithm we used last time, correct?”

“Correct indeed.”

Ford turned to Dipper, Mabel, and Soos, who were waiting awkwardly on the other side of Fiddleford’s lab — once a ballroom, now a mad scientist’s lair with countless vaguely steampunk-looking inventions and almost as many banjos scattered across the floor. “After you kids left last summer, I asked Fiddleford to revamp my old invention, Project Mentem, just to… well, to give us some peace of mind.”

He let that sentence hang in the air for a second, painfully aware of the irony and unsure of how to continue.

“It no longer scans individual thoughts, but examines them as a group to detect how many distinct minds or consciousnesses are present. Last year, it… well, I suppose you can infer — it told us that no one was in Stan’s mind except him. There was nothing out of the ordinary that it detected. But Fiddleford has upped the sensitivity since then, I believe…”

McGucket nodded to confirm.

“...as well as streamlined the overall process of the scan to make it faster. We believe that Bill has been directly interacting with Stan’s thoughts and dreams recently, meaning that he should be easy to identify, and once we’ve gotten a handle on what he’s currently doing and what else he’s capable of, we can go about forming a plan to… remove him.”

He turned back to Stan. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t have to fall asleep for this, do I?” Stan asked. His voice was steady, if a little quiet, but his hands were trembling slightly on the arms of the chair.

Ford shook his head. “No. It works whether you’re awake or asleep.”

“Okay. Start it up, I guess.”

For over a minute, no one spoke as the machine whirred to life and flashed a progress bar on the screen. Ford berated himself for not bringing anything to write on, to use to jot down notes.

(Not so much for the sake of keeping a record — there wasn’t a single thing Stan had done or said that day that wasn’t painfully burned into Ford’s memory, he was sure — but to organize his thoughts, to calm him down, to give him something to do.)

“We told Wendy and Melody what was going on before we left,” Dipper finally said. “They went to go get unicorn hair, so we could Bill-proof part of the mansion too. I mean, assuming that doesn’t mess up the scanning machine or anything.”

It took Ford longer than it should have to process the statement. “That’s… oh, that’s great. I’m not sure if I have any moonstones on hand, but those shouldn’t be too hard to get a hold of anyways… That’s very helpful of them.”

And then everyone was quiet again, and Ford suddenly felt very useless.

Melody and Wendy barely even know what’s going on and they’re doing more for Stan than I am right now. Why can’t I think of any way to help?

“Does Stan want us to get him anything?” Mabel asked quietly, as if reading Ford’s mind.

“Nuh-uh.” For the first time in a while (far too long), Stan looked directly at his niblings. “Tried to drink somethin’ earlier. Didn’t go down too well.”

He’s talking to the kids again. Thank goodness. Stan had a worried frown on his face and his words were spoken quietly and quickly, but it was improvement.

“Okay. But you’ll tell us if there ever is anything, right?”

“‘Course, Shoo— ‘course, sweetie. Don’t worry about that.”

And then there was the inevitable slip — so subtle and quickly corrected that Ford almost missed it, would have missed it if Stan hadn’t briefly shuddered at his own words before putting back on a neutral expression.

Sixer, Pine Tree, Shooting Star…

It seems the kids hadn’t noticed, though, and Ford didn’t want to bring it up to them, not after what had happened after returning to the Shack that morning. Instead, he waited until they turned away and started to talk to each other, then whispered to Stan: “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m not any worse, huh?” Stan answered, and Ford doubted many other people would have noticed, but his words sounded slightly forced, his tone just a bit too optimistic.

Like a lie.

“Do you… do you feel alright talking to the kids?” Ford asked cautiously.

“Yeah, pretty much. I — I think I still need them to give me some space, but…”

There was the genuine Stan again, the Stan being honest about how scared he was.

“But yeah, I can talk to them. Like, I just did, and that went fine, right?”

Ford felt a wave of nausea wash over him.

But it wasn’t fine, Stan. A moment ago you were horrified of what you almost said. What just changed? You couldn’t have forgotten, or…

Oh no.

Stan’s pupils weren’t slit at the moment, but his eyes had never shown the signs of possession, had they? Not when calling Dipper Pine Tree, not when his hands caught fire, not a single time. What if Bill was somehow the one in control, the one speaking to Ford at this very moment, pretending nothing was wrong, waiting for Ford to let his guard down — or maybe Bill wasn’t fully in control, but deleting memories from Stan’s mind and manipulating his thoughts until he truly believed it was fine —

A soft ding chimed in the background, and Ford didn’t register what it was until Fiddleford announced: “We’re done. I’m guessin’ you’ll wanna take a look here, Ford.”

Ford hurried over to the machine just in time to watch with Fiddleford as the results loaded, and for the sinking feeling in his stomach to grow a thousand times worse.

“That — that can’t be all there is! The end must be cut off!”

“No,” McGucket replied, his voice stunned and monotone — it sounded so wrong to hear Fiddleford of all people speak so flatly. “Ya can see the times labeled on the x-axis. That’s all there is…”

“Fuck,” Ford whispered.

He was drowned out by Dipper asking: “What’s wrong? What’s all there is?”

Ford found himself speaking slowly and clearly, like saying the words out loud would make them false, would prompt someone to correct him. “There isn’t a single sign of possession here. Nothing at all.”

“It’s gotta be my fault,” Fiddleford muttered. “I musta messed it all up with the upgrades —”

Ford shook his head. “No, Fiddleford. Stop.”

He pointed to the screen, where a graph was displayed. It was almost entirely one flat line, except for three parts: almost exactly a year ago, where it briefly quintupled in height, ten months ago where it briefly doubled in height, and a slightly longer period immediately afterwards where it made small oscillations up and down from the original line.

“All this data aligns perfectly with what we know — here’s where Dipper, Mabel, and Soos followed Bill into Stanley’s mind last summer. Counting Stan, that’s five separate people, just as the graph shows…”

He moved his finger along the line, from left to right. “Here’s where Stan tricked Bill into entering his mind during Weirdmaggedon — two people, just as we see here. And here’s where the memory gun caused minor interference. That’s all just as it should be.”

He finally pointed at the time labeled Present, where the line was flat again. “It’s just this part… we know Bill is here, but… we can’t detect him now, for some reason…”

Ford realized that he hadn’t heard Stan say anything since the results had arrived, and glanced in his brother’s direction. The look Stan returned to him might have seemed completely neutral and indifferent to any other person, but Ford could tell there were other emotions behind it — fear, and something else.

Shame?

“Um,” Soos said, “I don’t know very much about this stuff, but maybe you could try turning it off and back on? And then doing the scan thing again?”

“That’s a good idea, Soos,” Ford replied, quickly and maybe a little louder than he meant to. “We might try that — unless Fiddleford has something else he’d like to troubleshoot?”

“There’s a more detailed scan setting I can use, but I’ll turn it off and on again first, if ya want. The other scan’ll take more time, though. ‘Bout twice as long.”

“That’s fine,” Ford immediately assured him, even though it wasn’t.

Seven minutes had already been too much. He couldn’t handle another fourteen. He had to get out of this room, out of this poorly-lit ballroom-turned lab with no windows and not enough chairs and nothing to write on and far too much empty space.

But no, he had to stay, he had to do something, anything to help Stan — yet he couldn’t, couldn’t do anything, couldn’t hold it all together for much longer.

He was a horrible brother, wasn’t he.

“Stanley, would you be comfortable on your own for a short amount of time? I need — I’d like to head to the bathroom.”

He just needed two or three minutes alone to pull himself together. He’d come back to Stan as soon as he could, he just needed a moment alone. He just needed to sort through all his thoughts and paranoia, and then he could stop being so helpless…

“Sure, I guess…” Stan told him, frowning.

“Alright. Thank you,” Ford replied as he hurried out of the room, failing to notice the worried looks that Dipper and Mabel exchanged behind him.

Is this why I always tried so hard to convince myself that being a hero meant being alone? Because of how useless I always become when I try to help my friends and family?

***

It was actually in the dining room that Mabel found him, and it wasn’t two or three minutes later, but more than four.

“Grunkle Ford, you’re not in Sweater Town, are you?”

He didn’t get up from the corner he was sitting in, but he looked up to Mabel, trying to be reassuring but probably failing. “Am I really so bad of an actor? That you felt the need to come after me?”

“Well… we were a little worried before you even left, but then McGucket told that none of the mansion’s eight bathrooms were in the direction you went. So… that made us more worried.”

She sat down next to him, waited a moment, and then leaned against his side.

“I want to try help you feel better,” she admitted, “but I’m really afraid, too.”

“I want to tell you that you shouldn’t be,” Ford replied, “but I don’t think I’d convince either of us.”

He put his arm around Mabel’s shoulders, and all the thoughts that he’d been holding in ever since finding Stan in that clearing began to pour out.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell Bill and Stan apart at some moment when I desperately need to. That Bill somehow buried himself so deep in Stan’s mind that the scan won’t even pick him up no matter how many times we run it, and that I don’t even know my own brother well enough to find a way to separate what’s him and what’s that demon. I’m afraid that Bill’s already influencing what he says and thinks, and that it’s only going to get worse, and that I won’t even notice when it does.

“Back in the Shack, Stan… he talked in his sleep and quoted a whole conversation I had with Bill decades ago, and I didn’t even recognize it at first. It just… he called me Sixer, and I didn’t catch every word at first but the words I did understand sounded… just so natural in Stan’s voice, until… until he started telling me to lie until I couldn’t remember what was true, to lie until I wasn’t lying anymore.

“Now I’m afraid that Bill’s lying to me through Stan, messing with Stan’s head and controlling what he tells me. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to tell for sure until it’s too late. I… I should be with him! I should be watching him. Them. But I — I just can’t bring myself to…”

Mabel scooted closer and hugged him.

“I’m just so useless to Stan, to all of you. I don’t know how to handle any of this. I should be back there by now, but… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I can be the one leading everyone through… all of this.”

He hung his head. “I’m so sorry, Mabel. I shouldn’t have burdened you with this…”

“But did it help?” Mabel asked him. “To talk about it?”

Ford had to consider it for a moment. “Maybe a little bit, I think.”

“Then I’m glad you said it, Grunkle Ford.”

Ford had never been much of a crier, but at that moment, tears were starting to well up in his eyes. “Thank you, Mabel.”

“I don’t know what I could say that could help you any more,” she went on. “I’m really scared too. Especially for Stan.” She rubbed her eyes.

“But I’m not scared about being able to tell him and Bill apart — about you, or me, or anyone else being able to, ‘cause Stan loves us way more than Bill will ever understand. You know that, right?”

Despite everything, Ford felt a sense of pride. “You’re right. He does love us, so much more. I do know that.”

“One time,” Mabel went on, “Bill asked me some question, like ‘who would sacrifice everything they’d worked for just for their dumb sibling?’ He didn’t get how any of us could care about our family so much. Stan’s the opposite of that. He worked for thirty years to save you! Even if Bill was your brother, he never would have done that!

“You know Stan better than anyone, and you know how different he is from Bill. You know so much about everything! If anyone can figure out a way to seperate them, it’s you, Grunkle Ford!”

“That was very well said, Mabel. Thank you. I needed that.”

They sat silently together for a few more seconds, until Mabel said: “I guess you kind of were in Sweater Town, weren’t you.”

“I — I don’t believe I know what that means.”

“Well, when I go to Sweater Town, I pull my sweater over my head. Like this.”

She demonstrated. “But I guess it’s doesn’t always have to be a sweater, exactly. It can be whatever you do to get away and block out all the bad stuff going on.”

She pulled her sweater back down. “Sometimes you need to go to Sweater Town for a little while, and it really helps. Sometimes it’s bad instead, because you’re tempted to hide there forever and pretend all the stuff going on around you isn’t happening. Sometimes it’s both.”

“I see.” Ford took a deep breath. “You’re right, I think I was in Sweater Town for a while. But I’m ready to go back now, if you are too.”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

As Ford got to his feet, the dusty chandelier hanging from the ceiling caught his eye.

Right. That was something he could do, a step he could take to prepare in advance in case the next scan turned out the same.

“Actually, Mabel, before we head back… do you think you could help me find some candles?”

***

They left the candles outside the door before they entered the lab again. No one asked what had taken so long, just acknowledged them with a nod, but Ford could see the relief on their faces — especially Stan’s.

Before he had a chance to ask Stan how he was feeling, the machine dinged again, and on the screen, the exact same graph was displayed. Ford reminded himself that he’d been expecting that result, that he had a plan, that he knew what to do next.

Even though Stan would never approve of his plan, which was why he was about to lie.

You have to do it, Ford. If Stan’s still afraid of even being near the kids, he’ll never allow this if you tell him the truth.

From his pocket, he pulled a wallet-sized black case that contained several medications, including painkillers and antibiotics, but most importantly a sedative.

“Stan, I know sleep has been… unpleasant for you lately, but while we work out what to do next, it’ll be safest for us to sedate you, so we can minimize the risk of Bill taking control over these next few hours. Would you be alright with —”

Stan shuddered. “Won’t it be easier for him to possess me if I’m asleep?”

“Not if the drugs put you to sleep artificially. If he’s in your mind at this very moment, they’ll affect him too.”

“Oh, then of course I’m fine with it.” He held out his palm to accept the pills. “What are you waitin’ for?”

Ford was the only one close enough to notice, but Stan’s hand was trembling slightly. He was still terrified of being visited by nightmares again, Ford realized, even without the risk of Bill taking over — he was just pretending that fear wasn’t there, for Ford’s sake.

Feeling even worse about his lie, Ford pressed several buttons on the case, and it dispensed two pills.

It’s still all to stop Bill, just like I told him, he reminded himself. I’m only lying about the details because otherwise he’d be too worried about our safety to let us try.

“They work faster than the ones that are standard in this dimension,” he explained, “but you don’t swallow them — just let them dissolve in your mouth, and they should kick in within a minute or two.”

Stan did as he was told, and leaned back in his chair. Fiddleford procured a pillow from… somewhere in the lab, but Stan shook his head.

He just isn’t allowing himself to care about his own physical and emotional comfort anymore, Ford thought. And I’m exploiting that.

He stared at his watch until about ninety seconds had passed and Stan’s eyes had closed, then said: “Mabel, would you get those candles?”

“Why do you want —” Dipper started to ask, before it clicked together. “Wait, you’re going into his mind, aren’t you?”

Ford nodded. “Yes. Strictly speaking, the candles aren’t necessary, but I’ve found that a number of rituals work slightly better when they’re present. And, well, you can tell why I wouldn’t want to turn down any potential advantage we might have access to here.”

“Ah, now there’s the Ford I know,” Fiddleford chimed in. “You’ll find a way to get everyone out of this safe and sound, I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you, Fiddleford,” Ford replied. “I’ll do everything I can.”

No one asked him why he’d lied to Stan, which should have been a relief, but Ford almost felt like he deserved to have his choices questioned.

I will save Stan just like he saved me. I won’t let him down. I’ll make this lie worth it.

Mabel returned with the candles, and Ford began placing them in a circle around Stan’s chair. In the middle of the process, he stepped away from the circle for a moment to place the pillow behind Stan’s neck.

“Are you letting us come with you?” Dipper asked. There was a determination in his eyes that reminded Ford of Stan — well, of Stan when he’d conned Bill, of Stan when he’d punched krakens and dove overboard to pull Ford out of freezing water, of Stan on any other day but today.

A lot had changed in just this one bright summer morning, hadn’t it?

Ford sighed. “I wouldn’t be able to stop you from following me if I tried, would I?”

Dipper shook his head. “Probably not,” he admitted guiltily.

“Don’t be ashamed of what you would have done,” Ford quickly added. “I know I would’ve done the same. Besides, since the three of you have been in Stan’s mind before, you may end up being able to spot Bill’s influence even better than I can. I’ll admit I’m worried about your safety, but I know you’ll worry about me too, and letting you come is the best choice for all of us. It’s not like you’ll be a hindrance.”

He turned to McGucket. “Though that’ll leave you alone, Fiddleford. Are you alright with that?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, Tate’ll be back ‘ere in an hour or so, and I guess the girls are gonna come by to drop off that unicorn hair, too. You go do what ya need to do to save yer brother.”

Ford nodded and set to work lighting the candles. For one horrifying moment, he feared that they might burn blue themselves, but they were a warm, natural orange. They reassured him somewhat— a sign that normalcy still remained in this world where everything he’d taken for granted for the past ten months was turning out to be false.

“Alright,” he announced, “everyone gather round.”

The four of them placed their hands on Stan’s head, and Ford began to recite the incantation. He’d had it memorized ever since Bill had betrayed him.

As he began, everyone’s eyes began to glow light blue, shining brighter and brighter as he recited the chant.

On the third to last Magister Mentium of the incantation, the flames of the candles were snuffed out, their energy pulled towards the site of entry to the mindscape. On the second to last, the world began to dissolve around them, everything turning into blurs of blue and gray.

And then, as he spoke the final words, Ford could have sworn he heard… piano music?

But before he could be sure, everything went dark and cold.

***

Vrrq hqrxjk, Irug, brx'oo vhh wkdw brxu eurwkhu'v lq Vzhdwhu Wrzq wrr.

Thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated as always!

(Edit: Fixed a code typo, Ford is shaking his head at me right now.)

[fmdmoonjin]

Interviews. What used to be the bane of his existence as a public figure has turned into mere routine over the years, and this one isn't even live – it shouldn't be a problem, Moonjin thinks, but still doesn't like it as he takes his place admidst multiple cameras that will capture his expressions from multiple angles, so the producers can later use whatever looks most dramatic, one way or another. The squeaky white surface of the chair looks almost new, like no one had sat on it before him – an impression he knows to be an illusion; fittingly, as that is sure to be a recurring theme throughout Idolized's runtime. Illusions.

If his key value is honesty, what does it say about him that he's chosen an occupation that leaves no room for that? Moonjin refuses to ponder that question as he straightens his shoulders and plasters on a little smile, just enough to lighten up his usually too dark expression, then nods at the manager seated across from him – although no obstacles are blocking his view, he feels the line of cameras dividing them. In front of the camera, where artificial light smooths over his imperfections, he slips into a world of illusions with alarming readiness. (Is he becoming immune to the prick of lies like needles piercing his skin? Who knows – it's not his choice to make anymore.)

What is life as an idol like?  “Life as an idol,” he begins, then pauses shortly to run his tongue along his bottom lip. It isn't dry – he just needs a little time to think, as truthful thoughts drown out those he prepared beforehand, anticipating similar questions, “Is hard to explain in its entirety to people who haven't experienced it, which is, I think, where this show comes in.” A nod to underline his words conveys mild satisfaction – isn't that something the higher-ups would love to hear? Words of support he only partially stands behind, but he hasn't lied so far. “There are a lot of misconceptions about idols. It starts with this: that there seems to be a need for a general definition of 'idol life'. I'd like to place emphasis on the fact that we're all different, and thus our lives are too.” Too negative, Moonjin quickly reprimands himself – too critical. If there is one thing the public dislikes, it's usually being wrong and someone calling attention to that. “Of course some things are similar for all of us. There's the thrill of standing on stage, singing and dancing for people who wholeheartedly cheer us on – there's nothing even remotely comparable to the sound of a hundred people singing along to music you put together in the walls of a studio, unsure of whether or not anyone would even want to listen once it's done. There are strict rules for most of us, as you can find them at many workplaces – it's true that there isn't such a clear line between work and home in our job, but on the other hand, we have other liberties that certain professions may not offer. In the end, I think it's important to keep in mind that it's just that: a job. It doesn't define who I am as a person, but how I do my job just might.”

What are the hardships? Not usually much of a talker unless the situation calls for it, like when conflict arises in the dorm or anything of the sort, Moonjin finds himself exhausted of being the only one to speak after barely having answered one question, and adjusts his legs until they are in a 90 degree angle to the floor – an attempt to ground himself, perhaps, though it's mostly an excuse to move his muscles that are quickly getting stiff. “It's not always easy.” Typical – he avoids admitting that it's hard under any circumstances, in front of everyone, at all times. “Sometimes, things don't go as planned. Personally, I struggle most when I get sick or injured, which, luckily, isn't all that often – I don't want to miss schedules I was graciously invited to, and I don't ever want to let the members down. As a leader, I strive to be a support system they can fall back on whenever they need it, so when I can't do that, it's hard. It's the same for the fans too – as they're all precious to me, I'm always hoping I won't disappoint them with what I do, but sometimes, things are out of my hands. I wish they wouldn't blame themselves when we don't win first place on a music show, for example. It's not their fault for not voting enough, streaming enough, or anything – wouldn't I have to work harder instead, to put out better music next time?” A lot of things are left unmentioned: nights spent at practice rooms, dancing until his legs give out beneath him; in studios, jotting down notes until there are dents in his fingers and the shadows under his eyes are as dark as the ink on the pages. He doesn't mention the distance between him and all things not compatible with his lifestyle: former friends, his family, the vague possibility of romance, like he's forgotten those were once a part of him at all. He leaves out how odd it is to look in the mirror and not know oneself: who is he changing into, and is he still okay with it? Will he still be able to look at himself in five years, in ten? They don't know who he once was – they don't have to know.

What is rewarding?  His smile turns more genuine with that question, the thought alone enough to return a gleam of excitement to his eyes – his passion for the job prevails through all hardships they face, unbreakable, unchanged. “As I briefly touched upon earlier, the most rewarding moments are always interactions with fans. Of course I love making music, even if no one else listens to it in the end. There are a lot of songs I've written that I doubt I'll ever release, but I'm just as passionate about them as any others. It's rewarding in itself to have that final result – when a rough idea turns into a song.” Purposely looking at the camera for a brief moment, almost as if his gaze flickered over the person watching, even though no one is, yet (except for the camera crew), Moonjin pauses before elaborating. “It's always touching to meet our fans, whether it's at concerts or anywhere else – I couldn't have imagined what it feels like when they prepare events for you, if you had asked me years ago. They're usually at the end of a concert, but I end up feeling more revitalized than I could after weeks of vacation.” Only the partial truth, granted, but he is content with not having told a blatant lie so far – these are the little things he clings to, bases his integrity on. “Fan letters, too. Having our fans allow us a glance into their world and realizing that we might have impacted it in some way with what we do is still overwhelming, no matter how many I receive. A personal goal of mine, in the end, is to be someone our fans can rely on – I may not always be able to answer posts in the fancafe or anything of the sort, but I hope they know I make songs with them in mind. That I really see them when they cheer for us, and feel connected to them as people when they talk to us, whether that's through comments or in person.”

How would you feel if your future child wanted to be an idol?  Although it's not a question that surprises him, Moonjin hasn't given it much thought before, for the very simple reason that having children of his own still seems so far off, he deems it impractical to hypothesize about it. Maybe he'll never have any – then all the time spent thinking about that possible future would have been for naught. However, it's not up to him to decide this time around, so he blinks once, twice, his features impassive in their rigid politeness – untelling. “If my child ever told me they wanted to be an idol too, I think that first of all, as a father, I'd be proud to have done good enough of a job to have them wish to pursue the same career.” A light chuckle tumbles from his lips, too perfectly timed to be completely sincere, but it isn't all fake either. It's only that he has a hard time not being all too businesslike as soon as he's on his own, yet with a thousand eyes on him. “I'd want to sit them down and tell them, in detail, what being an idol entails – it's an important choice for their future, after all, so I'd want them to be a hundred percent sure about it. As a child, we often dream of paths to take that look cool in the moment, but as you grow older and think about it in greater depth, it doesn't fit your interests as much anymore. Therefore, I'd definitely want to make sure my child knows what being an idol is all about – that it's hard work too, unlike going to a karaoke room with friends once a week, if they only enjoy singing, for example. First, maybe we could reach a compromise – they could take vocal or dance lessons and start there, and if at any point they get sick of it, they can stop and do something else instead. But if they truly wish to pursue that dream in the end, knowing all about it and having gained those experiences, I'd support them wholeheartedly and proudly.” The smile that spreads across his cheeks at that is distant, his eyes slightly glazed over, as he ends up imagining the impractical anyway, despite his prior reluctance.

Do you think the words “artist” and “idol” mean the same thing? A sigh threatens to spill from his lips at that question, for he's witnessed it being discussed over and over again, and every single time anew, someone got riled up over it eventually. To Moonjin, it is but gum that has lost its taste he is told to keep chewing anyway – and chew he does, obediently, with a drawn out hum to mask his disinterest as pensiveness. “I think 'artist' and 'idol' mean very different things, honestly, but it really depends on one's definition of 'artist'. Being an idol could be seen as an art in itself, which would then make every idol an artist, but not every artist an idol.” A shrug entirely too nonchalant for so engaging a topic is habitual, yet the moment Moonjin notices his mistake, he tries to make up for it with a good-natured grin. “An idol, I think, is someone who performs on stage like we do – singing and dancing; the whole package of visual and auditory concepts, the results of weeks or months of practice. An artist, in the typical sense, is someone who writes their own music and doesn't rely on anything but their music, I suppose?” His tone of voice is questioning now, uncertain. Freedom, he wants to say – freedom's the difference between the two, but his manager's gaze is watchful and more than one pair of eyes is trained on him, so he swallows it back.

Are there sides to you your fans don’t see? “I think there are a lot of sides I didn't get the chance to show my fans yet, as I have to admit that I have a hard time focusing on anything but performing and giving them a good show when I'm on stage.” Another half-truth, at best – there are always a hundred thoughts whirling around his head at once; he simply chooses to push them aside and concentrate on what's truly important, one thing at a time, and usually, being professional is at the top of his list during public events. “Of course there are fansigns and we've been on shows before, but none quite like this, right?” Honestly, that's a mandatory comment for every show – praise it as novel, something no one had seen before, to lure in people who might not be die-hard fan enough to watch everything they're on. “Wouldn't this be the perfect chance to get to know the person 'Ahn Moonjin'? Without the spotlight and all.” Wouldn't it indeed? It's not a question he needs to answer – it won't, not really; of course it won't.

What do you hope viewers will see through the airing of this show? “Above all, I hope viewers won't see me as boring while watching this show.” Albeit he makes sure to chuckle after that sentence, it comes a second too late to hide the fact that there's genuine worry behind it – he is boring, so what is there to show? Ahn Moonjin, not moving as he sits in front of a computer in a studio for hours on end. Truly suspenseful entertainment right there. “I'd like it if they saw that I'm just human too – not just Impulse's leader, but also a fan of other artists, a friend, a family member. Those things. I believe I haven't done much of a good job of showing any of that so far.” And he never wanted to – still doesn't, quite frankly, but he doesn't know what else to name. Hope is beyond him at this point; it's going to be part of his work, this show, and one he has already accepted he won't enjoy very much, that's all there is to it. Even someone who values honesty as much as him knows he can't say that, though, so he simply nods it off and moves on.

What do you hope you’ll get out of the experience of the show? Are there any other groups or idols you hope to get the chance to meet more through the show? That one is different; mostly because he hasn't prepared himself for it and thus doesn't have an answer ready. Typical – Moonjin has always liked thinking things through before speaking, and though he's learned that that simply isn't possible at times, he takes the liberty to bide his time now, while he still can. Later, they can edit out this part and pretend it never happened. “Ideally, I'd like to think it will help me get closer to my fans by sharing my day to day life with them. Because I never remember to be as active as others on social media, I think this show is a great chance for that.” A lie, the first one he can't deny, and he feels it settling like a weight pushing down on his chest – regret is immediate and inevitable. Good. He hasn't gotten used to it yet. “There are quite a few other idols I'd be happy to meet through this show. Some of you may not know, but MARS' Rise and I are actually quite close, so wouldn't it be nice if our two groups got together at some point?” It wouldn't, not really, not with all the unknown variables a lot of the other members are, but the mention of Minseok causes Moonjin's expression to brighten yet again despite himself. “Of course I'd be honored to work with much respected seniors like Decipher, especially as I'm on good terms with both Duri and Haejun.” Whereas their friendships had initially been a farce, both of them, he supposes 'on good terms' is still fairly accurate (and vague enough). “As for groups I haven't had the chance to interact with much so far,” he begins, then trails off as his brow furrows – which group would be okay to name? No girls, no groups with a bad reputation, and none Impulse is already tied to one way or another – that doesn't leave very many options. “Dimensions Entertainment's newest addition, Jin's debut really caught my attention, so I'd be happy if I got a chance to meet him in person through the show.”

How do you feel about the upcoming Hallyu Triple Fantasy Concert in Jeju City? “I'm excited about the upcoming Hallyu Triple Fantasy Concert in Jeju City, of course.” That one, he doesn't have to think about very hard, and neither is there a need to lie. The realist in him knows that he'll be half dead after that, as he's already been working himself to the bone lately and giving him further reason to surely wasn't going to do him any good, but his survival instincts have always lost to his passion, and would continue to do so for years to come, he's sure. “It's such a big event, and I'm always humbled to get the chance to perform at such a venue alongside these amazing artists. We're diligently preparing, so please look forward to that as much as we do!” For the enthusiasm, he does have to make an effort, for that has never come naturally to him – he simply isn't very expressive; not unless one knows to pay attention to the subtleties, but most cameras fail to even catch those.

Do you have any worries about being followed by cameras for the show? “I'm not particularly worried about being followed by cameras throughout the filming period,” Moonjin says with characteristic quiet firmness, meant to leave no room for doubt where plenty of it is due. “I don't have anything to hide, so what's there to be worried about?” His eyes crease with another broader smile, though by now he himself is no longer sure if he means it. “As I mentioned earlier, I'm more worried about not having anything to show, rather than something I don't want to show.” The sad part is that that much is true – he has his secrets, but none that would be hard to keep, even with cameras following in his shadows.

The end of the interview leaves him with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach – when an illusion is lifted, it's sobering, but not always in a good way. The lines between the person he is and the role he's playing are blurring gradually, and he doubts the show is going to help with that. With a deep breath, he reminds himself of how great of an opportunity it is for Impulse to gain a little more support, solely by being themselves – hard-working and authentic –, then finally gets up and bows to all members of the staff. “You've worked hard.”