#outshone all who came before

[abtl]

Trajan.

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

⋆*·ﾟI read it in your eyes... misa x putellas!femreader

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a night out appears to be the turning point in the journey of dealing with your heartbreak and, once again, misa is there to witness what she probably shouldn't have.

or; part of the as the flowers bloom, my heart does too universe

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The van stopped on the curb of a small street, trees lining up every few metres and a tram whizzing past across the street. Alexia jumped out, walked up to the creme-coloured brick apartment building and dug a key out of her pocket before disappearing behind the doors. Alba pressed her face against the window of the van, eyes looking up as she sighed in exasperation,

"Bathroom light is still on. Prepare to wait for another decade before she's done." She tried to joke, but her face was set in a grimace. Misa wondered if it had anything to do with Alexia having had the same reaction when asked about her little sister earlier that week.

"Are you sure her girlfriend isn't keeping her hostage and forbidding her to leave?"

"God, yeah, remember when she whisked her away the second we touched down from Ibiza that one time? Those two are super-glued together."

A set of giggles rang through the car, but a few women, who clearly had more intel, fell silent.

Alba's lips immediately set into a thin line, "They've broken up, and this is the only time I'll warn you guys to never bring that woman up again. She's a pariah, a fucking deadly disease. For all I know, she doesn't exist. Or at least I can pretend she doesn't." Alba muttered the last part, crossing her arms and sinking into her seat with her eyebrows furrowed and a far-away look on her face. It still hurt her that she hadn't stepped in sooner, how she could've saved most of the heartbreak if she hadn't trusted you when you told her you were just going through a rough patch, and that was all. Her need to protect you had been there ever since newborn-you had been carefully put into her and Alexia's lap, and she'd played with your tiny fingers and watched you coo. Though she had been young herself, she had managed to comprehend the unspoken responsibility that came with being an older sister. Yet, she'd still failed by dismissing her worries when she thought you were mature enough and that you deserved her trust and respect. You'd told her not to worry, that you could handle it, and she'd given you the trust and support to back that claim. If only Alba had known what had really been going on behind closed doors, things might have been different now.

The van was awfully silent after Alba's comment for all of the five minutes it took for Alexia to reappear with you strolling behind her, face cast down to the ground where your heels clacked against the cobblestoned pavement. The short maroon summer dress that clung to your upper thighs made you look absolutely gorgeous, even if it made Misa feel oddly underdressed with her jeans and top. But even if you'd decided to wear joggers and a sweater, she knew you would've still outshone everyone in that van. In her eyes, anyway.

She caught the quickest glance of your face, despite you making it your job to barely lift your head to acknowledge the others in a silent greeting, but she had managed to catch the sullen look nonetheless.

The intense scent of freshly applied perfume wafted through the van, and Misa, ashamedly so, realised it wasn't the same one you'd used during your last vacation. That one had been soft and light, with a tinge of something citrusy, something fresh. Perhaps, it was your designated summer scent, and going to a club required something a little heavier to stick through the night. Your powdery floral musk enveloped her senses, and she had no other option but to bask in it as the van revved and left your street.

Alexia had gently ushered you to sit between her and Olga, your sister's girlfriend immediately pulling you into her side. Misa watched from the back row as you let her, like some brittle puppet who otherwise couldn't sit up without crumbling. Alexia and Olga shared a look over your head, like a silent exchange of their worries, allegiance and support for you. But Misa realised it was a silent promise when they dipped their heads in confirmation.

The van never erupted into loud laughter again, not after Alba's breaking news, but the occasional whispered small talks softly picked up again.

A ringtone cut through the hushed silence, Hey Ya! by Outkast blaring through the van. Feeling the vibration in your lap, you opened your clutch and dug out your phone, surprised to see the caller ID on there.

Though Alexia had deleted everything that reminded you of your ex-girlfriend from life, she hadn't breached your privacy and taken your phone to get rid of the countless photos and text messages she knew were still on there. She thought you would've been wise enough to do so yourself, seeing what your ex had done to you.

Still, it surprised her when she curiously glanced at your screen. Her brows shot up to her hairline, and she immediately made a move to snatch the device out of your hands, not even to restrict you from answering, per se, but to give the woman who had ruined you another piece of her mind.

"No- Alexia!" You rushed out, holding the phone out of her reach, knowing full well what she would do if she got your phone, "Please, don't make it worse."

Her face was pure disgust and malice, "Why's she calling?"

"Well, I wouldn't know without answering, would I?"

She gave you a pointed look at your attitude. That side of you hadn't come out since your teenage years, and though she missed when you'd still been young and innocent since those days had been fleeting, she didn't want them to return to her like this.

"You're not thinking of answering her, are you?" She shot back harshly, missing the way Olga softly shook her head to not give in and fuel her little sister's fire.

You gasped when the phone was plucked out of your grip from behind, long nails scratching your hand through the movement. Instantly, you turned around to stare at Alba's blank face. The chipper tune of the song still cut through the charged silence before your sister turned off your phone and pushed it beneath the strap of her bra, enveloping the van in silence again. Well, only momentarily.

You gaped at her, bewildered.

"Give me my phone back."

Alba gave her chest a little tap, a gesture to secure the phone, but by doing so, putting salt in the open wound, "Not until I trust you are strong enough to not let it get to you again."

"Who are you to make that decision?" You snapped, all sense and resolve gone. You had let your ex dictate your entire life, play and push you around like some puppet on a string. You weren't going to let anyone else tell you what to do or say. Not anymore.

"I'm your sister and I'm looking out for you, something I should've done months ago. Now, turn around and stop sulking. You look like an angry child throwing a fit because she has missed her nap. Venga-" Alba spoke with an air of finality, waving you off and not crumbling under the deathly glare you directed her way.

Humiliation was the feeling that washed over you when your eyes finally went around the van. No one met your eyes. They probably tried their hardest to disappear or pretend they weren't breaching what obviously should've been a very private conversation.

Misa quickly looked at the world behind the window when she noticed your eyes roaming across the back row to find hers. But you never succeeded.

Two arms slung around your waist from both sides of you, but you pushed them off, irked and irritated by the comfort Olga and Alexia were trying to give you. You'd never been good at switching your emotions on and off when things got heated like this. You were still mad. They needed to let you sit with your anger until it would fade out naturally and you could accept their well-meant comfort again.

'She's right, you know. We only want what's best for you,', Alexia wanted to say that and so much more when she watched your jaw tense and your bottom lip wobble, but knew not to bother you in your state of distress. Pushing you to let others help you with your emotions or having you communicate what you were feeling before you could calm down usually only made things worse. Your family had learned that the hard way. It had been a thing ever since you were little, and it had usually brought out temper outbursts whenever they'd gone against it. Whereas those would've been able to be dealt with with your favourite stuffed animal and snack, or by the mere sight of your father's fond smile, your sisters weren't quite sure how to comfort you this time around. Not when they'd thought that your girlfriend had taken the place of being your rock, the one to calm you down. If only they'd known she'd been the one to make you feel as little as she could, things would've been different.

You let the tears trickle down your cheeks, refusing to wipe them away and show everyone sitting in the rows behind you that you were crying. So what if it ruined your makeup? It wasn't like anyone in the club would see, or care, for that matter. They'd only care for your lips, and they were still coated in a freshly applied layer of gloss, puckered and ready to be kissed.

It was as if Alexia knew of your plans the second you all stepped out and walked down the stairs to the underground club. And, well, perhaps she did know after having watched a woman walk out of your apartment when she was going up to check on you. She'd caught on twice, although you figured the second time had been because Alexia'd had a hunch and her worried self had cared more for your wellbeing and her unanswered texts than the possibility of her getting scarred by what she could walk into. But when she realised the second woman was a different one than the first, she'd gotten mad and lectured you about all the things you didn't want to talk about. Who was she to tell you how to live your life? You were young, single and sexually frustrated and wanted to take advantage of that. You wanted to be worshipped and cared for, no matter how fleeting, and didn't care that there weren't real feelings of love involved. At least, that was what you tried to convince yourself.

When she'd seen you practically glued to some woman's lips and leave with her the last time you'd gone to this exact club, Alexia knew the only person you needed to be glued to that night, was her. It was already a miracle that she'd let you tag along, but, after careful consideration, she realised it was better to keep you where she could see you than to leave you in your apartment, inviting god knows who to keep you company. You knew she’d told Alba all about it, but were eternally grateful she hadn’t let your mother in on your recent activities, knowing full well the woman would barricade you in your childhood room and smother you with her motherly love until you were feeling okay again and not finding comfort with strangers.

The music was thunderous against the walls, and the purple hue was a recurring colour in the club. Alexia's hand found yours and she squeezed onto it for dear life when you pushed through the many bodies and toward your reserved booth. She purposefully trapped you among her friends, even pushing you to sit down when you'd tried to excuse yourself with some lame lie about needing to go to the bathroom already.

Alba scooted beside you, draping her legs playfully over your lap, but you knew it was a ploy to further trap you in your seat. You heard her snicker when you refused to look at her because you were clearly still mad at her. What annoyed you even further, was that you knew Alba couldn't care less. She'd done what she had set out to do, and that proud smile on her face said it all. She had always been insufferable when she got like that.

When you'd been younger, your mood swings had usually been diffused by your father, but after he had passed and you'd been in your pre-teens, Eli'd had her hands full trying to rope you in and get you and Alba out of each other's hair. Your temperaments had always been a little too similar to coerce peacefully. It had been a real challenge to keep your emotions in check, especially right after it had happened when you'd felt like a life raft floating on the open ocean. The feeling of loss had been just as difficult to navigate as the feeling of helplessness you'd felt. There wasn't anything you could have done for your father, besides comfort him the way he had comforted you for years. And there was nothing that could comfort you now that he was gone. Therapy had only helped to an extent, if you even let your therapists get close to solving you.

Alexia had already been spending all of her time on the pitch, so she'd, fortunately, missed most of those teenage fights. It was the only thing she never regretted missing out on. But without your father and with your mother out working to take care of her three young girls, you were left to listen to your older sisters, despite your clear loathing of it. And when Alexia was out as well, that meant you'd had to listen to Alba. And my, had she revelled with that power. It never helped that she often used that power to end discussions, even when she was clearly in the wrong. But if you didn't listen, you knew she would blab to your mother about something she wasn't supposed to know. Looking back at it now, you realised how your bond had grown. She was your big sister, had taken care of you when she'd been young and hurting herself and was effortlessly slipping into that role again right now. But, even if you knew she did it out of love, you couldn't help but grow a little irritated.

You pushed her legs off your lap, then rolled your eyes as she playfully groaned when she realised you weren't going to break.

"You're not going to ruin my night with that mood of yours, are you?"

You huffed and looked out over the dance floor. Your night was already ruined, that much was clear. You hadn't really been that opposed to tagging along and spending some time with your sisters and Alexia's friends, though you knew Alexia's laser eyes would make it damn near impossible for you to leave with someone. But now that you were here and couldn't even indulge, you were already counting down the time.

"Wipe that look off your face, it's not attractive."

"My resting bitch face has never given me any trouble here before."

Alba grumbled out an ew at the clear insinuation, and you counted that as a slight victory for your cause.

"Here-"

You watched the drink Alexia set in front of you, immediately making a face when you realised it was a simple Sprite. Even Alba gave her sister a questioning look.

Alexia, as if she'd already been expecting such a reaction from the two of you, gave in and handed you her alcoholic drink instead.

"Have mine then."

You eyed the rose-coloured drink, "What is it?"

"Pink gin with a red fruit tonic."

Alba scrunched her nose in disgust, "That's just an alcoholic lemonade."

"I swear, you have the taste buds of a child."

Alexia's mouth broke into a grin when you spoke, "Says the girl who drinks more Capri Sun than what's good for her."

Alba grabbed the pink gin and tonic and gave it a sip, face not contorting in nausea, as you'd half expected. She slapped her lips together, "Not terrible. Still not my thing."

With your sister distracted, you eyed the outline of your phone beneath her dress, but Alba already held up a finger to silence whatever plea was going to come out of your mouth.

"Don't even entertain the thought."

You threw your head back against the seat, "I want to go home. Can you call me a taxi?"

"And have her wait on your doorstep after you haven't answered her calls just now? Absolutely not." Alexia said, nicking her drink from Alba again, knowing neither of her sisters would drink it anyway.

"Then give me your phone, I'm bored."

Alexia sighed but obliged, watching as you opened her Candy Crush app, knowing you would likely close it again with a huff after seeing her unreasonably high level and knowing you weren't feeling that kind of mental stimuli right now.

And, just like she'd expected, you locked her phone with an exasperated groan.

"Want mine and find me some hot dates on Tinder?" Alba wiggled her brows, eyes brightening when she saw the intrigue on your face. Although maybe it had caught your interest for a more mischievous reason, she realised quickly.

"No-" She pulled her phone back before it could fall into your hand, "-be serious about it. No silly messages that'll make me look like a fool."

"Okay. Promise."

"And you know my type."

"Eiza González in Dusk Till Dawn?"

Alba slapped your head, "No, that's your type. Don't push your gay-awakening onto me." She grinned at the hurt look on your face, "And we surely aren't forgetting that your first girlfriend was a carbon copy of her, right?"

"Remind me why we ever broke up?" You complained, realising she was right.

Alba cackled, "Go reach out to her, I know there are still some feelings there. Second chances are a thing, you know?" She side-eyed you, realising her mistake of bringing up dating around you the second she saw the look on your face. She changed the subject to what she hoped would make you chat away enthusiastically, "Tell me again why you liked that character?"

"Oh, come on. Her in leather? On the motorcycle? With her fangs out? When her eyes change colour? Ordering men around? And that one scene where she danced with the snake?!"

"Clearly you're still infatuated," She poked at your ribs, but felt incredibly relieved to see the sudden moment of carefreeness appear on your face, "Honestly, I only watched it because you made me watch it with you, and it kept you quiet and distracted."

Now it was your hand that slapped her head.

She laughed, "Plus, it was fun watching you watch the show. I figured out you were a lady kisser way before you even knew it yourself."

You shrugged, "Well, Kisa was my Edward Cullen."

"Who?!"

"Kisa!? Santanico! The vampire queen?! Eiza's character," You rolled your eyes.

"Oh wow, forgive me for forgetting a character from a show we watched ten years ago- jesus."

Misa took a sip of her drink and watched while slowly but surely, the annoyance that had previously been etched into your face disappeared the longer you chatted with your sister. It seemed you started to warm up to her again— occasionally showing Alba her phone, which got paired with eyebrow wiggles and giggles. Misa hadn't realised how much she'd missed your laughter when it broke through the cacophony of the club chaos.

Upon hearing your laugh, Alba immediately snatched the phone from your hands, afraid you'd done exactly what you'd promised her not to. But when she saw the source of your amusement, her worry settled.

"Ten euros that she superliked you just for laughs," You almost instantly tapped the blue star on the profile of your childhood best friend, Abril, and cheered when the screen displayed a pop-up.

"Pay up!"

"No, I never agreed to anything," Alba playfully pulled at a loose strand of your hair, slightly yanking your head to the side. You didn't react to it, having been used to all the bullying as the youngest child.

You rolled your eyes, quickly typing a 'hey sexy lady' to Abril before your sister snatched the phone away and added a middlefinger emoji to the chat.

You perked up when Alba's phone vibrated, then typed away as Abril replied with a playful retort.

"Aw, shucks, she knows it is me."

"Duh, she knows I wouldn't ever superlike her," Alba sniggered.

Alba locked her phone and put it away, calling it quits for you on the Tinder matchmaking for the night. You sat back in your seat, eyes going over the many people in the club who seemed to be having way more fun than you.

To your right, Alexia's teammates scooted out of the booth. Your face lit up when Jenni turned to you, her hand outstretched and fingers wiggling as an invite.

Alexia and Alba shared a look, then nodded at each other, before turning to you.

"Go, have some fun," Alexia nodded, a soft smile on her face to tell you it was all right.

Alba's hand fell on your lower back and smoothed out your dress as you stood up and shimmied out of the booth. She gave your butt a slap, "But disappear on us and I'll tell mama you lost your virginity under her roof."

You turned around, cheeks flushed and a scowl on your face, "How- You guys weren't even home?!"

Alba shrugged, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, "Should've been more slick about it then."

"Don't-" Alexia pinched the bridge of her nose, "Don't use that word in that context, por favor."

"Well, you don't even know if it happened or not."

"Pretty sure you just confirmed it?"

You muttered profanities under your breath, "If you tell her, I'll tell her you dented her car when you tried to parallel park and not someone who drove into you at the grocery store."

"I wouldn't expect anything less. Just behave, laelia." She puckered her lips and made kissing noises, laughing at the look on your face, clearly still trying to decipher how in the world she knew of what you thought had been your secret.

You shook it off and took the olive branch Jenni presented you with both hands and almost fled the scene with her and the others, mind set on getting yourself a proper drink first before any other plans could be made.

You waved the bartender over and leaned against the bar as you watched her mix your chosen poison when you felt a presence beside you. That was fast, you thought, but was surprised to see one of your sister's national teammates land on the vacant stool next to you.

"Hey," Misa nodded her head, then ordered a drink, eyes roaming across the many bottles on display and not meeting those of your own as you stared at her. Misa had been a mystery to you since the start. She hadn't been rude to you per se, just... closed off. And with you especially. It was something you'd sometimes encountered before, but those times, you could clearly see the interest and adoration in people's faces, a little too intimidated by your energy and beauty to approach. It felt different with Misa. As if she didn't even want to indulge in a glance your way. Had you done something off-putting in her presence that you weren't aware of? The distance she clearly maintained between the two of you, even after many a dinner sat next to one another, was odd. Still, you didn't want to give up on getting her out of her shell around you. You'd succeed. One day.

"Having fun?" You had to lean in to her to be heard over the music. Misa's smile was friendly, but as friendly as a stranger reciprocating a smile from across the street. Nothing too welcoming, nothing that notified she was one of your sister's closest friends and that you had actually shared two weeks basking in the sun together.

"Now I am," She motioned at the beer bottle that was set in front of her, "-you?"

The bartender slid your drink over to you, topping it off with a straw and a pearly white smile, "Now I am." You smiled devilishly and reused her words, eyeing the woman who had made your drink a little longer than necessary when you slid over a ten euro bill.

"Salud!"

Misa clinked her bottle with your glass before you both took a sip. You turned around, back against the bar and fingers toying with the black straw as your eyes flitted across the dance floor.

Misa watched you, heart hammering against her chest faster than the music around her. She knew she was supposed to say something, knew that you were expecting her to. But how was she to think straight when you were right there, close enough to touch if she turned around in her stool, your perfume intoxicating her in all the right ways? Her eyes raked your body, watching how the fabric of your dress tugged around the curves of your breasts, hips and bottom, how your bare legs got her as hypnotised as those soft locks of yours she wanted to reach out and touch. She watched your fingers readjust the necklace on your chest, how they left droplets on your skin from the condensation of your drink. She couldn't help but stare as it trickled down your cleavage.

She froze when you suddenly turned around, head tilting as you watched her intently. She'd been caught staring at your breasts, and her face turned ten shades darker.

Your mouth moved but she couldn't comprehend the words in her state of panicked embarrassment. She could only watch the healthy blush that had appeared on your face since stepping into the stuffy club, how you looked at her from underneath your eyelashes as if you could see right through her. And, perhaps you could. Especially after she had just ogled your plunging neckline. The fear that thought came with shook Misa out of her stupor.

"Come again?" She leaned in, trying to blame the booming sound around you, head moving to the side so as to not come any closer to your breasts and betray her feelings even more.

"Wanna dance?"

Misa was thankful for the distorted purple lighting around her, for she was sure you would've caught her blushing right away.

"Um, I don't really dance. But thanks."

She did dance. Hell, she liked to dance. She'd wanted to get silly and let loose all the stress and pressure of the hard week. But dancing with you would only add to her nerves and stress and it would do nothing to help her crush on you, which was multiplying every second she spent near you. Even after weeks or months of not seeing you, just the slightest tease of a glance at you or mention of your existence could reawaken her feelings.

Misa saw your face fall momentarily, but you seemed to shake it off.

"Can you watch my drink while I'm gone? If you want to go back to the booth, it's okay, but if you do, just bring my drink along because I did not spend nine euros for five sips, only for it to go to waste." You laughed heartedly, and Misa swore she could fly. She'd always basked in your sweet and light energy, but whenever it was directed to her, even for a split second, Misa found herself on another planet entirely. A very pink one with butterflies flitting all over.

"Sure," She grinned, albeit with a kind of timidness that was new to her.

"And don't you dare take a sip, because I'll know if you do." You pointed a finger at her, eyes narrowed but lips curved into a ludic smile. Her eyes fell on your lips, then quickly glanced at your eyes, realising she shouldn't get caught staring at your breasts and lips all within the same minute.

Tud, tud, tud, tud, tud, tud-

Misa felt her fastening heartbeat drum in her ears and ribcage as she swallowed and shook her head, a breathy chuckle getting lost in the noise of the club. You turned around, threw your hair over your shoulder and disappeared into the crowd as a new song started to play.

Misa had stayed there for ten minutes, sipping her beer occasionally while fiercely guarding your drink with her hand, shielding it whenever anyone walked by. When she'd finished her drink, she'd had a brief moment of bravery and had considered finding you in the dancing crowd after all. She could do it. There was nothing wrong with dancing with friends during a night out, especially not after drinks had been involved, albeit only one or two. Her beer had barely gotten her tipsy, she needed more of that, but she wanted to keep her wits about her if she were to interact with you. One misplaced word or longing look and she would be discovered. Remaining undetected had proven a difficult task even while sober. Still, she knew that she could dance beside you, especially if the others were with you. But that daydream had popped when your maroon dress appeared in her peripheral.

You had closed your eyes, giving in to the music and letting your hands glide sensually over your curves. You oozed self-assuredness, elegance and sexiness, displaying how truly comfortable you were in your own skin. You could've gotten lost in the music and was nearly at the point of forgetting where you were when you felt someone behind you.

Misa watched as your body moved with a fluid, sensual kind of grace that had her captivated, but she got distracted by the tall and tanned woman approaching you. She had wavy black hair and looked like some damned ancient goddess with her height and poise. She was tightly pressed against your back, her hands on your hips as you both danced in sync with the rhythm of the music. Misa watched in horror as one of the woman's hands glided from your hip to your stomach, then further upwards until she pulled your chin to the side so she could look at you. As soon as she leaned in, you didn't push her off like Misa had expected you to, but you turned around and snaked your arms around her neck, pushing your hips flush against her.

Misa turned away when your hand grabbed a fistful of those black locks and you moved in the hot and heavy pace of your feverish makeout. She stood there, frozen, your drink in her hand and her heart crumbling as fast as her confidence.

Back to the booth it was, it seemed. She pushed herself off the stool, taking one last glance to see if you'd seen reason and pushed the woman off after all, but sighed and retreated. All her bravery and hope had vanished and she felt pathetic for ever thinking of dancing with you like some foolish teenage girl dancing with her crush at her senior year's school prom. The reference instantly reminded her that all it would and could ever be, was a crush. A silly, pitiful crush.

"What's happened?" Patri asked as soon as she saw how faraway in her thoughts Misa seemed.

"Nothing?" Misa pushed out a chuckle, carefully setting down the drink she'd guarded for the past fifteen minutes, in vain.

"Fucking hell-" Sounded, and everyone looked at Alexia, whose eyes were glaring at something happening in the background. Going by the tone and rigidness in your sister's posture, Misa could take a good guess what it was about.

You had lost yourself in the heady feeling of growing desire with the stranger in your arms. And if Misa had felt uneasy, she could only guess the level of discomfort Alexia was in seeing her littlest sister engaging in such... activities.

"Ale-" Olga quickly pulled her girlfriend back down.

"I can't stand this self-destructing behaviour any longer. I knew this would happen if we'd take her. It's painful to watch."

"She's... she's just kissing, though?" Mariona wondered, not seeing the problem in a young and single woman having some fun and letting go of her inhibitions for the night.

Laia blew out a breath, "More like getting her face eaten off."

"I thought she was with Jenni and the others?!" Alexia grumbled, turning her head to not have to see her little sister practically dry-humping a stranger, "Where's Alba?"

"Bathroom."

Patri had barely even answered when they watched the situation unfold before them. Alba had walked out of the bathroom, clearly having been met with the same distasteful display right in front of her and not going to tolerate whatever bullshit coping mechanism this was.

"Oh, no."

You felt a set of arms pull at your waist from behind, tearing you from the stranger's grasp. A split second later, you went from being glued to one torso to the other, but as soon as you heard her voice, you knew you were in deep trouble.

"We're going home." Alba growled.

With wide eyes from both shock and the desire still lingering somewhere within you, you watched as the woman you'd been dancing with took a step towards your sister, clearly wanting to intimidate her after the stunt she'd just pulled with you. She couldn't have a clue who Alba was. In her eyes, your sister was just another woman who'd had a little too much to drink and had crossed a line and made you uncomfortable. She glared at your sister, and though she was two heads taller than Alba, the tiny spitfire of your sister beside you wasn't impressed.

"Hands off her." The woman spoke, eyes softening as she looked at you, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine-" You spat through gritted teeth as you harshly pulled yourself out of Alba's grip, sending her a nasty glare.

"Should we go?" She wondered, and you nodded. The woman's hand found yours, clearly still pent up with the same carnal craving swirling through her body, and wanting you to relieve her of it. But as she went to pull you out of the crowd, you were turned around.

Alba pushed your phone against your chest, eyes spitting fire but lip trembling as she realised she'd clearly lost any and all control over you. Especially at a time when she so desperately wanted to be there and guide you through your heartbreak. In a time when you needed her to stop you from making mistakes. Whatever you had been doing lately— trying to find solace in strangers to prove you weren't as unlovable as your ex had made you feel, to fill the emptiness, to feel longed after and cared for, even if the care had only sexual undertones. To get your frustrations out, then cry yourself to sleep afterwards and not leave your bed unless you had to go to work. It pained her how she was helpless. She couldn't believe how you didn't realise that putting a plaster on a gaping wound was laughable at best, but here you were, planting another plaster on the open wound of your heart, while letting the blood seep through your fingers.

When she looked at you, she knew she'd lost you entirely.

"Here, in case you wound up in some ditch and need us to get you." She spat, unable to mask her true feelings and be gentle towards you, and not let her own pain translate into fury. She had half hoped the interaction would shake some sense into you, but she scoffed and watched as you left.

Alba returned to the booth, immediately having to justify herself when Alexia was in her face, asking why the hell she would let you go so easily.

"Honestly, Ale, what's the use in fighting any longer? At this point I'm just waiting for her to smack face first into the ground to come to her senses, since we've clearly not gotten anywhere with our kind words and gentle coaxing." Alba sat down, head in her hands as she let out a big breath.

"You're letting her go home with some stranger and that doesn't worry you?!"

Alba looked up from her hands and shrugged, no energy left to fight it, "She's an adult. If she thinks she can handle it, then she'll have to handle it. She needs to make mistakes to learn from them." Alba shot back, "And it's not like she'll get pregnant. The only thing you'll have to worry about is her catching some STD, and even that won't be your problem."

Alexia opened her mouth, waving her hands around, feeling incredulous while trying to come up with words. She knew that the longer she waited, you would be one step closer to getting in some cab and starting her downward spiral of worries until you'd text her again, letting her know you were alive.

"I told myself that if she would try to leave with someone, I'd follow her out. She's staying here, and that's final." Alexia darted through the crowd, mind set, ignoring the pleas to stay put. She wasn't going to sit idle and let something happen to you again when she was right there and able to do something about it this time.

"God, she's going to embarrass her, isn't she?" Patri winced, already playing out the scene in her head of Alexia pulling you out of your fling's arms mid-kiss, much like Alba had done just now.

"Y/N's made her bed. Now she must lie in it."

Misa glanced at Alba, who seemed so calm and wise in comparison to merely two minutes ago on the dancefloor. It was as if a switch had been flicked off inside of your sister, as if she had suddenly stopped caring. But Misa knew that could never be it, and she was proven right when Alba's chin wobbled, betraying her true feelings.

When Alexia returned ten minutes later, sporting the same defeated look, she knew your sister had failed in her attempt to stop you.

"I can't find her anywhere. She's gone." She leaned into Olga, accepting the comfort of her arms, "Can I have my phone? I want to text her to stay safe. She needs to know she can call me if something's wrong."

Olga gave her girlfriend a pained smile but grabbed Alexia's phone out of her bag nonetheless.

It hurt so much more to have her phone open in the Candy Crush app, where you'd locked it, the over-the-top pink theme contrasting with her gloomy mood.

Olga perched her chin atop Alexia's shoulder and watched her type a message your way, "We'll be here when she needs us, Ale. That's all we can-"

Alexia jumped in her seat when someone harshly plopped down beside her. Her eyes widened when she witnessed your red-rimmed eyes and quivering chin. You knew how you looked and that, along with your actions from earlier, which you knew they'd all seen, filled you with shame. You didn't dare to look at who else was sitting in the booth to find out who had seen your pitiful display. You didn't even want to think how much of a fool you'd made yourself to be, and how differently they would surely start seeing you now.

"I'm sorry." You croaked out through your old tears, feeling the new ones burn in your eyes.

"Y/N! What the-" Alba perked up in her seat, all anger gone as she reached her arm across the table to get closer to you, hold onto your arm, fingers, your hand, hell- she didn't care. Her hand found yours and she winced at how hard you squeezed.

"Are you okay?!" Alexia asked, the boulder only half lifting off her chest with you beside her. Seeing how distraught you were didn't help. And seeing how hard you were biting into your bottom lip to hide how you were really feeling, hurt her even more.

They all looked at you, waiting for an answer, and once more Misa was made feeling like an intruder by your sudden appearance.

After some long seconds of trying to gain control over the wobble in your throat, you croaked out,

"Her name was Carmen."

Your shoulders shook with the sobs you tried to gently leave your mouth, but you failed massively at hiding them. Feeling looked at, you dropped Alba's hand and hid your face in your hands, muffling the sounds and the sight to any onlooker.

Your sisters' faces fell, knowing the significance of that name and why it had hurt to meet a stranger with the same one. Alexia's strong arm pulled you into her embrace, and it tore at her heart when she felt you push against her hold, not wanting to truly accept her comfort, as if you didn't feel deserving of it after having worried her and not listened to her. She knew it was how you could get- distant and wanting to solve your problems by yourself- but it didn't hurt any less knowing that you didn't want to let go of your sorrows and let your oldest sister hold onto them for you, even if only for a little while.

Realising that the feeling you'd wanted to escape had been put there by a woman with the same name, had tipped you over the edge. As soon as the stranger had asked you your name and had whispered hers in your ear in return, you'd crumbled, pushing yourself out of her arms.

Alba got up and crouched beside the seat, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your leg.

"Laelia, hey- look at me."

You heard Alexia coax, but only pushed your hands further against your face to the brim of suffocating yourself, if your sobs weren't already doing so. The makeup of your eyes was probably caked up in a messy mix right now, but you couldn't care less.

Alba gave a thankful smile to the girls in the booth who got up to excuse themselves, one by one. Alexia gently pried your hands off your face and dapped at your eyes with a napkin.

Your eyes then fell on the drink you'd ordered earlier that night, and you quickly took a few sips. Misa's throat tightened as your eyes locked across the booth. It was as if the drink had made you think of her... had made you look for her. She'd take it. She'd take any thought of her that would pop into your mind, even hoping it would bring you some much-needed distraction in your current state. Misa hated how she was making this situation about her crush on you again, and instantly looked away, waiting for her turn to slide out off the circular bench to give the three sisters some space.

You slurped every last drop out of your glass with the straw, then stood up, resolutely. Your sisters already opened their mouth in protest, but you waved off their worries.

"I need some fresh air. I promise I won't leave. I just- I need to get away from all this noise." You motioned around you but were talking about the chaos in your mind that screamed at you to be heard over the music.

Alexia stood up, but you pushed her back in her seat, not unkindly.

"I want to be alone, Ale."

"Like hell-"

"I don't think you should be alone right now."

But you didn't listen to your sisters' pleas and turned on your heel before they could pull you back.

"She's pushing us out again."

"She'll come back to you when she's ready," Olga was the voice of reason, calming the two down but immediately worrying them again as she added, "But I don't like leaving her alone any more than you two do."

"She's going to get mad again if she sees one of us, though."

Then, that bravery that had been building up all night finally reached its peak when Misa blurted out, "I'm okay with keeping an eye on her, just to make sure nothing happens, you know?"

"Would you do that?" Alba piped up, eyes hopeful and almost begging.

"Yeah," Misa nodded, dead serious, eyes flicking from your disappearing form to your sisters, not wanting to lose you in the crowd.

"Please, if you could?"

"Of course," She squeezed Alexia's arm on her way out of the booth, eyes already on the neon green exit sign high above the dancing crowd.

Outside, people were saying goodbye and calling it a night or having a smoke around you, but you had drowned them out the second you'd sat down on the cold curb. It reeked of spilt beer, cigarettes and urine, and it ripped off your rose-coloured glasses right away. You tugged at your dress, wanting it to cover more of your legs in the chilly night air, but realising you'd have to wrap your arms around yourself to warm you up.

Little, weak and vulnerable — three words that had started to co-exist in your mind whenever you thought of yourself... but that was how you felt. It was the harsh reality, it was who you were, who you'd always been, and you knew your ex had been right when she'd jabbed those words at you time and time again. If you weren't little or weak or vulnerable, you wouldn't be sitting here right now, chest ready to heave with the sobs wanting to come out after having met a stranger with the same fucking name. It was so pathetic, it made you chuckle bitterly.

It had felt like the universe's way of stopping you from making yet another questionable decision, and perhaps, you were glad it had stopped you. You knew you would have felt disgusted with your actions within twelve hours anyway, despite how good it would feel in the moment. However, that also meant you were left with the impending knowledge that you had to deal with your feelings in another way tonight. But how, you didn't know. You weren't good with your feelings. With letting someone in, again, to let them take half of your burden. You knew you'd never trust someone like that ever again. Any situationship or relationship you would have going forward would only ever reach a superficial level until you'd close the prison cell of your heart when they would get too close. You puffed out a breath before breaking down into a shuddering sob. Your back hunched over, and you put your face in your hands.

Misa watched from near the entrance, leaning against the brick wall and playing with a begonia she'd plucked out of one of the decorative flower planters next to her. It was a painful sight to see the girl who had once brightened up her days looking so miserable, and it was even more painful knowing that there was nothing she could do to help. Well, except for keeping an eye out right now, that was. She realised that she had perhaps deliberately decided to turn a blind eye to your agony before, basking in the small blurts of happiness she could see on your face and using them for her own gain, not looking further and realising how scarce those moments were for you nowadays.

You jumped in your seat when a duo of overly drunk boys started to bellow as they were trying to hail a cab. They cursed loudly when another group got to it before them, and sat down on the curb a few metres away from you. One of the boys's eyes wandered across the street, falling onto your shaken form.

"Hey!" He motioned you to come over, and you immediately tore your eyes away from them, blankly staring out into the street.

"Hey, you-" He whistled, and your chest swelled with anger. You gave him the nastiest look you could muster but bristled when they only seemed to snicker at your teary fury. You knew you looked horrible and pathetic, little and weak and vulnerable, but you didn't need to get reminded of that by some fresh-out-of-high-school boys.

You saw one of the boys stand up and you were ready to either scream bloody murder or tear him a new one, but furrowed your brows when they seemed to rethink their decision to approach. At the same time, you saw a shadow loom over you.

Looking up, you watched as Misa stood there, giving them the deathliest glare you'd ever seen. You knew she was a tough one on the field, knew she could be reserved around people she didn't know, you included, but you hadn't thought she'd had it in her to look so menacingly fierce off the pitch. And for what? To, out of all people, save you like some knight in shining armour?

The boys lost their interest in you when a cab stopped in front of them, but Misa hovered close, a safe distance away from you as she contemplated what to do now. She watched as you pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your chin against them. A chill breeze wafted through the street, blowing through the stray hairs that weren't stuck to your tear-stained face. Your refusal to acknowledge her presence after having noticed her, should have made her back off as fast as she'd approached the second she'd smelt trouble, but instead, she stood glued to the pavement. She played with her fingers, contemplating what to do and outweighing every scenario and its consequences. Then, after some agonising moments in thought, she decided it was better to stick with you now, showing you weren't alone and admit to the reason behind her presence, knowing you deserved honesty.

"We didn't want you to be out here by yourself."

You looked up, no trace of your beautiful radiating self to be seen, "I said I wanted to be alone," You sniffled and wiped at your puffy nose, "But thank you." You took a shaky breath, "Lord knows I would have ripped their heads off hadn't you come."

Misa wanted to smile at you still bringing lightheartedness to the conversation in an attempt to either comfort yourself or distract Misa from your true state, but she simply couldn't. Not when you were like this. Deciding she had broken the ice and had committed to it now anyway, she mustered up the last bit of courage and sat down beside you, still a reasonable amount of respectful distance keeping you apart. A little too much distance, for that matter.

"I wouldn't have looked at you differently if you had." She spoke gently, hoping you caught the underlying message in her words— just like she wasn't looking at you any differently now. You were still the most gorgeous girl she'd ever seen and you would still be able to send her insides to mush with one giggle or look.

She twirled the tiny begonia in her fingers. You watched her, looking at her fingers and the flower as a new set of silent tears coated your cheeks. Your eyes widened when, out of the blue, Misa's hand pried a lock of hair off your wet cheeks and placed it behind your ear before gently tucking the tiny flower behind it. She looked at you, truly looked at you, as if she was reading your face to sense what you were feeling. Then she smiled, not out of pity, but out of adoration, as if she could see through the tears and caked makeup and trouble and see the carefree girl you'd always been.

The entire gesture was so tender, something you hadn't been exposed to in a long while, that sobs then wracked your body once more. You didn't even care that your sister's friend was seeing this and would likely pass this along to her, too. You let the tears fall, the energy to keep them in no longer present. You hoped that the girl who'd been so reserved and indifferent around you before, wouldn't bat an eye now either.

Immediately, Misa felt horrified, afraid she'd crossed a boundary that had set off the tears. Her panic intensified when she had no clue what to do, so she figured not to think about it too much and go with her instinct. She put an arm around your shaking form and, when you burrowed into her chest, she felt herself float, despite the wet patch of tears forming on her shoulder and keeping her very much in the moment. Then she blinked, realising once more she was putting her crush over your well-being. Her grip around you tightened and the unbeatable sensation of fierce protection set her face in determination. She realised then that she should've had the balls to do this sooner, preferably when she'd overheard that phonecall all those months ago. You had deserved to be comforted then, too, to feel seen and understood, not alone, but Misa had been too much of a coward and had worried about her secret crush coming out that she'd held back.

"It's... it's okay." She whispered into the air, knowing you could hear her nonetheless with you so closely pressed to her, "You don't have to pretend you're fine."

You clutched at her shirt with your fist, pulling it closer to you, hating how Misa still seemed set to keep a distance between you and didn't let you bury yourself into her chest entirely. You'd never realised the woman had apparently been able to read you so well in her quietness around you, that she knew exactly what you were feeling. Still waters run deep, and she'd surprised you by proving that. It drew out the air of mystery she already had around her, but you felt afraid of what else she'd noticed that you thought no one had. That, along with the realisation of the situation you were in, filled you with shame. You pulled back and wiped at your nose. Your eyes widened in horror when you saw the glittered patch of your eyeshadow now on Misa's t-shirt. Furiously, you wiped at the spot.

Misa couldn't help but take you in, with your hair dishevelled, the flower now almost falling out of it, your cheeks flushed and wet, your eyes bloodshot and your nose stuffy as you wiped at it every few seconds. Pained, tortured and exhausted by it all and still, you were the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.

She didn't know half of what had went down with you, and with your ex, seeing as your breakup seemed to be the root of your pain. She'd heard enough during the phonecall, though— your quick and panicked muttered apologies, your fear and your weariness. She didn't need to know the rest to still be unable to grapple with why on earth someone could hurt you as much as your ex had. Her eyes turned damp, and it was a surprise when she felt the tears prickle. She wasn't an emotional person, she never cried, except for after a major and critical defeat on the pitch or if she got too angry about things that really mattered. Perhaps this was just such a moment. She became paralysed at the reveal.

Your voice was small, your shoulders hunched and your gaze to your lap as you softly mumbled out an apology. Misa's heart broke then and there, realising you'd been in that position more often than necessary. How often had you resorted to taking the blame to diffuse the situation and survive another day without a fight?

She watched as you slid away from her and tried to keep her tone light, veiling the sting of her heart, "For what? One wash and it's gone."

As if being stung by a bee, you seemed to realise what you were doing. You were letting your walls down to one of Alexia's friends, you were letting someone see you cry, admitting how little, weak and vulnerable you were indeed. You were letting someone take a peak behind the curtain of the confident and put-together woman you usually portrayed to be. You harshly wiped at your face, ruffled your hair and stood up to smooth down your dress.

Flee, flee, flee, flee, flee.

"Tell Ale and Alba that I got a taxi back home."

Misa followed your example and stood up, holding you back by your elbow, gently and with care.

"Let them take you home. Please."

You narrowed your eyes at her, having a hunch that the urgency in her voice didn't just stem from her worry for you, but at the fear of facing your sisters if she let you. It shouldn't have made you feel the way it did, to realise that Misa had only comforted you out of courtesy to your sisters, and not because she wanted to be the one to wrap you in her arms. Feeling a little defensive, you replied a bit too harshly, "I'm not going back in there."

"You don't have to. Let me text them. I'll wait here with you."

You debated it for a while, you truly did, but no. You couldn't step even one foot back into that nightmare of a place. With warm and sweaty bodies brushing against you, the mix of a dozen colognes and eau de perfumes, and the booming sound slapping you across your face. You didn't want this disaster of a night to be drawn out even longer than necessary. You'd learned your lesson in there, and you weren't going to go back in to come to terms with it. Not tonight, anyway.

"No, I'm sorry."

Your heels clicked as you walked the cobblestone street to the nearest taxi. Misa watched, realising she'd fucked up even the simple task of keeping you company. If only she hadn't wrapped you in her arms, maybe you would've waited it out with her. She had a hunch her sudden affection had been the tipping point for your need to run. Her eyes fell to the curb, where the crumpled begonia now lay forgotten. Without another thought, she pulled her wallet from her back pocket and tucked the little flower in between a couple of ten euro bills. Then, she couldn't help but let dread fill her stomach. She'd have to get back in there and tell your sisters what had happened.

Surprisingly, they hadn't taken the news as bad as Misa had expected. She figured it was the fact that Misa had seen you get in the taxi and knowing that no sane person, not even an insane one, your ex, would be waiting on your doorstep at one in the morning. The fact that you'd shared your live location with your sisters and they'd watched the dot move through the city until it arrived at your place, had aided as well.

Plus, as Alexia had added with awareness, "We should've gone after her ourselves. You couldn't know how stubborn she really was."

But Misa'd had a hunch after all the time she'd spent adoring you. It was one of the things she admired. You had a will and mind of your own, not an opinion easily curated by the world around you. You knew what you liked and wanted.

The sisters, including Olga, had decided to call it a night then and there, calling a taxi and driving straight to your apartment, just to make sure. Misa, not really feeling up for any more pretend-partying after all that had happened, had decided to leave as well after trying to stick around for another half hour to not be an ass when Jenni had bought her a new drink.

She hoped that you were safely tucked in your bed right now, ready to let sleep wash away your sorrows, even if it was only for the night.

Much later, she'd find out how wrong she'd really been.

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

© 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆.🖤

[literary-motif]

In All My Dreams I Drown

Asirel Cain x Reader

Asirel experiences sleep paralysis.

Warnings: Insomnia, sleep paralysis

Asirel was not afraid of the dark. He had never been. The inky blackness of night had a way of soothing him. It seemed almost like the only escape from the crushing responsibility he carried during the day — almost because although the US slept, there were plenty of places around the world that were bussing with life and plenty of phone calls and e-mails he received during the dark hours. 

Still, it felt different. Breathing was easier during the night. He had always enjoyed being awake while the world around him slept. 

He had stretched this indulgence a little too far, it seemed. 

When he first started he had finished business at perhaps one in the morning, going off to bed soon after. One had turned to two over the years, two to three. Now when he looked up from his computer screen, it was usual to see the blue tint of the early morning light, just before the sunrise. He went to bed when the sun rose, but his daily responsibilities never lessened. 

Somehow, there was always more to do — more to plan, more to think about,  more to work out. He was always busy, and although his hours of sleep had been steadily reduced over many years, the time he tried to wake up rarely varied. 

It was becoming an issue. Asirel was very much aware of that. He had fought long and hard to reduce his hours, choosing to slip into bed as early as eleven at night, only to lie awake until the early hours anyway. 

What had started as simply an unconventional sleeping schedule had developed into a more serious issue. 

“Mr. Cain,” the blonde woman before him had said, giving him a sympathetic smile he thought she must flash to every patient. The sterile whiteness of her office nearly outshone the brightness of her coat, the stethoscope practically gleaming under the harsh artificial lights. “I am afraid there is not much I can do. Plainly speaking, it seems to me that you are under a lot of stress — if you reduce the stress, I am sure your insomnia will disappear.”

He had wanted to scoff but returned her smile with his own. It was polite, although a bit sardonic. “How do you suppose I do that, Doctor?”

She blinked as if nobody had ever asked her that question. “Well, it depends on what causes the stress, but either way I’d suggest—”

Physical activity. This time he did scoff, hiding it behind a cough. 

Working out seemed the cure for everything, just like water. Asirel, have you tried going outside more? His mother’s words had felt mocking, and hearing the same advice from this professional who did not take his ailment seriously made a bitter taste appear in his mouth. 

Headache? Drink some water. Back pain? Have you tried losing weight? Insomnia? Why, do some sports! 

Pathetic. He took the prescription for sleeping pills without another word. 

Sleeplessness in adults was very common, stress from work being mostly the cause of it, and although he supposed everyone experienced a bad night of sleep every once in a while — where they tossed and turned endlessly, without getting their mind to shut up as thoughts and worries swirled around until night turned to day and it felt like they had not slept at all — if these issues persisted for over half a month, things were no longer casual. 

Reduce the stress she had said. How exactly could he do that, when his very existence came with a relentless pressure pushing down on his shoulders? His life was heavy. He did important things, and although he loved the responsibility and influence he had — the power. He loved the power of his job — he was the first to admit that his work had cost him many sleepless nights and hours pouring over papers at his desk with seemingly no end in sight. 

The world was draining him of his strength, the love for his work — and the determination to change things according to his vision for it — faded under the relentless strain he had been under. He was at the end of his rope.

Much like a broken arm or sprained ankle, his insomnia hurt. It had causes, it had consequences. His mind felt like mush on some days, his thoughts dragging along until it took too much energy to direct their stream. His memory worsened, and the days blended — he remembered only little bursts of something, the important bits of meetings and conversations while all the rest faded to black. 

How long since he had last seen his mother? A day? A week? When had his sister called? This morning? The day before yesterday? It was all a big lump of gray. 

When had he last fed you? It must not have been that long ago, or else you would have complained.

Asirel was exhausted. He needed the world to stop for a day until he had his mind back together and ceased fraying at the edges. He took two sleeping pills, downing them with a large gulp of water.

They did not work as he had wished. He lay on his back, listening to the clock ticking on the other side of the room until his eyelids dropped, but he did not sleep. He lay awake for hours — still hours — until he slipped into oblivion, but his sleep was far from restful. 

It felt like he did not sleep at all.

He thought he opened his eyes in the morning, looking at the rays of sun streaming in through his window. He found he could not move. His heart skipped a beat, his mind slipping into a spiral of panic that the rational part of his brain sliced through with two words: sleep paralysis.

Where were the hallucinations? 

As the thought crossed his mind, he heard it. Loud banging came from the hallway, stomping that came closer and closer. His heart sped up, fear pulling him under despite knowing this was not real. He knew it, but the bangs approaching, getting louder and louder in tandem with his racing heartbeat made it hard to believe it. 

He tried to close his eyes, not wanting to see what his mind would come up with to torment him, but he could not. The room would not disappear before him, and he still could not move. 

Terror seized him, and he tried fighting the unshakable pressure pinning him down. The world around him felt like dough, his body limp around it as it was pushed into the mattress. There was a weight on his chest, heavy, unlike anything he had ever experienced before as it crushed him, keeping his lungs trapped. 

Something moved at the edge of his vision. The stomping approached closer and closer. Asirel wanted to scream. He tried, but his mouth did not comply, there was no air in his lungs. The only thing escaping him was a low whimper. The stomping came from right beside his bed.

A figure walked into his line of vision. It vaguely looked like him, but as he stared into its pale face — too pale — he saw blood trickling from its mouth. Its hair was dirty, a dark shade of blonde with specks of deep red in it. Its black eyes stared at him as it approached. 

He had never been as scared as he was now, helplessly trapped in his mind while this shadow version of himself reached out a bloodied hand towards his face. It leaned closer, hovering inches from him. 

“They’re coming to make you pay,” it said, "make you pay. Pay. For all you have done, they’ll make you pay. Pay. Pay. I’ll kill you if you don’t pay. Make you pay. They’re coming. They’re coming! Hide!”

The door flung open. Asirel felt himself resurfacing. The apparition vanished, the banging stopped and he blinked his eyes open. His brain felt numb, slowly awakening with pins and needles as he turned around. He still felt heavy, barely awake as reality slowly clicked back into place.

You stood in the doorway, surveying the room with a stance that told him you were ready to lunge at an attacker. Once you realized the room was empty, your eyebrows furrowed. “I heard your heart beating out of your chest not twenty seconds ago, Asirel. What’s going on?”

The pressure on his chest had lifted, and he let out a deep sigh as he moved a hand — relief flooding when he realized he could — to rest against his forehead. What an experience. Something still felt off, and there was a creeping terror at the edge of his mind that he could not shake. 

“Had,” he cleared his throat, closing his eyes to escape your puzzled expression, “had a— a nightmare, I suppose.” It was not the truth, but he did not feel like explaining sleep paralysis to you. The experience was still too fresh on his mind, and he feared talking about it might make it more real, turning this into a permanent curse. “Thanks for— for waking me.” Thanks for watching out for me.

You stared at him, the trembling in his voice and his still accelerated heartbeat telling you that something had shaken him to his core. “No problem,” you said, approaching him to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Asirel gave you an uncertain look. Hesitatingly, he lifted the edge of the covers. 

You chuckled, slipping in beside him. He snuggled into your arms immediately, resting his head on your shoulder and breathing in your scent. 

It grounded him, having you close. Your strong arms around him made him feel secure like nothing else could, certain that you would protect him. Despite it all, he knew he could trust you — and you knew he did as you heard his heartbeat even out and his breathing deepen. “Do you mind if I—?” he mumbled, eyelids drooping.

“Go ahead. I’ll be here when you wake up,” you said, fastening your hold on him. Asirel drifted off to sleep in your arms, catching a few hours of the most restful sleep he had had in a long time. 

[maltmatcha]

Can we talk about c!Fundy

Yes I love c!Bitterduo too but god can we talk about c!Fundy. A boy born in the wrong body, at the wrong time, around the wrong people. His mother's gone. His father seems to care about a blond haired boy far more than he cares about his own son. His friends, the other war torn children, create and break alliances at any opportunity. He's told to fight for his nation and he doesn't know who to trust.

He can't even trust his own dad by the end of it all. Every authority figure he turns to disappoints him, and why wouldn't they? Fundy was a child of many failures. His sister L'manberg outshone him before it's demise, and was created with someone else in mind. Tommy overshadowed him when it came to his father. His grandfather too, chose someone else, a war criminal at that, to be loyal to above him.

Fundy seemed to follow behind everyone, and yet no one stuck with *him*. It's hard to name a single alliance he's had that hasn't fallen apart. It was as though he'd wasted his entire life clinging to the coat tails of people who didn't care about him the way he cared about them. When Revivebur came to him, half-assedly hobbling together an apology for his own self righteous brigade, can you really blame him for not accepting it? Might as well be a failure in someone else's eyes for a reason he could control.

He was overshadowed and outperformed by nearly everyone, and it wasn't even his fault. He was a spy for Pogtopia, but Tubbo gets the recognition for that. He was the son of a President. A leader. A man who will forever be remembered as the Creator of L'manberg, not the father of Fundy.

A lot of people complain about how Fundy never got a chance to shine, but I think that is exactly what's so interesting about him. In a narrative full of main characters, he never got the chance to be one.

[hongjoongspoetry]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Part 3 – You Know You're On My Mind

⛸️ Summary: Would you rather A) represent Seoul at the Spring Championship, B) find the answer as to why Mingi was ignoring you or C) stay in your shared flat for the winter holidays? How smart of you to go with option D), none of the above.

⛸️ Genres/Tropes: College AU, non-idol AU, rivals to lovers but it's more like one-sided resentment, hockey AU, figure skating AU, angst!!!

⛸️ Warnings/Tags: Female reader, no use of (Y/N), explicit language, brief alcohol consumption, petnames (princess, beans), a lot of tears and crying, probably incorrect use of hockey terms, fist fight, blood, verbal fight, Mingi is really mean but also aware he's being a douche, Dasom is a good friend, more side characters!!!

⛸️ Wordcount: 16.6K

⛸️ Author's note: I freaking love angst 😈 Hence why I've looked forward to the third part of Cold Hands, Warm Hearts! A warning, I have absolutely ZERO knowledge about hockey so the things you'll read concerning the hockey game may or may not be wrong idk. I've tried watching a lot of hockey games on YouTube, but they move so fucking fast I can barely wrap my head around what's happening lmaooo.

I also wanted to write my own comments for the chapter (something I should have done since the first part tbh), but I've been home with a fever for some days now and I honestly can barely sit up, let alone write extra stuff so I'm sadly skipping out on that. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this part and don't be shy to tell me your thoughts 🩷

This is all fiction and not meant to represent the idols involved in any way or form. This work is NSFW and not appropriate for minors as it contains explicit scenes as well as adult language. Minors and ageless blogs refrain from reading this work!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Click on me!

December 9th, 2024. 

The day was marked in Mingi’s little red calendar he kept away in his backpack — not that he needed the reminder, the day was practically burned into his mind — and the fanciest suit he owned was ironed three nights prior with the help of his best friend and roommate, Jeong Yunho. One would think it was an important day — as to explain why he woke up at a presentable hour with enough time to spare for a few errands and a brunch with his roommate — an exam determining his final grade or something to do with his hockey, but no it was just the day of your competition. 

Currently sitting in a sandwich shop, thumbs twirling and eyes set on the flower shop across the street, Mingi contemplated whether bringing a bouquet  — maybe roses or those tulips, they were quite popular nowadays — would be too much or not at all. The two parts of his brain clashed and before he could make a decision Yunho came back with their orders, a teriyaki chicken sandwich for Mingi while he ordered something nasty looking with a really fancy and long name that Mingi couldn’t bother remembering. 

“There you go.” Yunho settled in the seat across Mingi and dove right into his food, letting out a moan of approval. “Best sandwich in town, no kidding.”

“Do girls like flowers?”

Caught mid bite, cheeks coated with crumbs and mayonnaise, Yunho looked up at Mingi who already had his eyes set on him with a seriousness that rarely outshone his happy and goofy exterior. 

“Uhm, I suppose. I mean the girls I’ve given flowers to liked the gesture. Why? You looking to impress someone, Mings?” A teasing smile quirked at the edge of his lips. “Is it a quick fuck?”

“Dude?!” Mingi hissed and quickly threw a glance around the room making sure no one overheard their convo and labeled them as creeps.

“Oh, come on, we’ve talked about worse things than some sex deets.”

“It was a simple question, Yunho-ya. Do flowers equal happy girls? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, cool.”

Sensing this wasn’t a topic Mingi was all too keen to talk about, Yunho gave him some space and took another bite of his sandwich. Then he remembered their conversation three days ago and how Mingi begged him to help him iron his suit and teach him how to properly handle a tie, and if that wasn’t enough of a reason then he could always use the we’ve-been-friends-since-diapers card and pry whatever information he wanted out of him.

“Is this about that figure skating girl?”

“Absolutely not… Do you think she’d like roses or tulips?”

Mouth full of bacon, tomato, lettuce and bread, Yunho mumbled out a barely audible answer. “Roses. Definitely roses.”

“I’m just saying if Hyunjin brings you roses I’ll jump in front of the ice resurfacer!” 

Keeho laid flat on your bed, legs dangling in the air and chin propped on both palms as his eyes burned holes on your back. While rummaging through your closet you threw a random shirt over your shoulder, purposely aiming it at him and you knew it was a success as he let out a surprised ‘ack’.

“That’s what you get for being noisy,” Dasom chirped and rolled over him, her feet hitting your pillow and arms reaching the end of your bed.

“You guys promised to help me pack! I’m so going to be late.” 

An empty duffel bag sat on your bed beside the entanglement of limbs that were your friends. Despite waking up a whole twelve hours before your planned departure, you were running late or would be if you didn’t leave in the next fifteen minutes.

“Fine, but I’m just helping because I know you’ll make it big one day and I can use it to be a multimillionaire influencer. Yoon Keeho, best friend of the South Korean Olympic figure skater. It has a nice ring to it, no?”

Another shirt hit him in the face, this one coming straight out of the dirtied piles of clothes in the corner.

“No more throwing shirts!”

“Up we go, Kyo.” 

Dasom repositioned to sit criss-crossed in front of your bag and began neatly placing necessary things inside; towel, spare change of clothes, bobby pins, hairspray, your skates. 

“Where’s your suit?” She asked while zipping the bag.

“My coach still has it. Something about seeing it before the comp would bring bad luck or whatever. Like it’s a competition not a wedding and Keeho, get out I need to change.”

“I bet a round of lamb skewers Hyunjin is proposing after the comp– I’m leaving, I’m leaving, put that down!”

As the door closed you quickly stripped and threw on a sweatsuit bearing the logo of Tiny University printed on the front and back. Knowing you were practically working on autopilot while your nerves skyrocketed, Dasom didn’t want to step out of bounds and send you into a potential spiral of panic and stress but she was also very curious, and her greed won over her morals. With a soft call of your name she asked the million dollar question. 

“Did you only invite Hyunjin?”

You froze with your hands in your hair, a bobby pin between your fingers and an extra in your mouth as your gaze fell on her. Flashing you a derpy yet reassuring smile that warmed you up like the sun on a summer afternoon filled with sugary strawberries and pink lemonade. 

“No… Not just Hyunjin, I actually invited Mingi too, but I… don’t know why.” 

You plopped down beside her and played with your fingers. It all felt so silly and you didn’t even have the time to think about him or Hyunjin or anything boy related overall. Not that it was a bad thing, in fact it was great, but that meant your mind was completely occupied of nailing your choreo, imaging everything that could go wrong and to not let anything go fucking wrong. 

“Maybe it just felt right,” she whispered, as if the words were made of steel and you were of twigs that would break at the slightest contact.

Sighing, you nodded and fell back on your bed with Dasom in tow. There wasn’t much left to say. You couldn’t remember what drunk-you thought when inviting Mingi nor did you want to know. All you knew was that your heart did that little leap thing before violently kicking at your rib cage when he said he’d be there and that was concerning but not more so than your competition taking place in a few hours. 

If Mingi showed up, great.

If he didn’t then that was great too, is what you forced yourself into believing.

Mingi stood before a body-length mirror and kept running his hand through his neatly made hair. Yunho placed a palm over Mingi’s shoulder and the shifting motion immediately subdued only to proceed as the hand withdrew. 

“Stop moving around dude, you’re making me nervous!” 

Taking a step back, Yunho quietly assessed Mingi, searching for creases in his black suit or stray hairs standing up funny. There were no faults, his tall friend — that was still slightly shorter than himself — looked perfect appearance wise. It was the slight twitch of his finger and sweat collecting at the nape of his neck that gave him away.

“Why are you so nervous, Mingi-ya? It’s just a figure skating competition, nothing more nothing less.”

Taking a hold of the perfectly wrapped bouquet of heart-colored roses he paid a good penny for, Mingi pouted and shrugged his shoulders as if a toddler being put on the spot for doing something bad.

 “I don’t know.”

“You want me to come with?”

Yunho, dressed in an old tattered shirt and bright red basketball shorts with his naturally dark hair growing at the roots and taking on the look of pudding, was ready to drop everything and jump in his brand new suit planned for their graduation if that’s what Mingi needed.

“No, no. I’ll be fine, it’s just… Don’t you think it’s too much? Flowers, a suit? It’s a figure skating competition not a wedding.”

“Does it matter? Personally, if it were me, I’d rather see the girl I invited put in the effort even if it means wearing nice clothes over something raggedy. This shows you care.”

“I guess…”

Mingi jumped as Yunho reassuringly landed his hands on his shoulders, giving him an encouraging squeeze and smiling so his cheeks puffed up. “Come on, let’s get that tie fixed and then I’ll give you a lift.”

“Ah, the privileges of not having a driver’s license.”

“You mean the privileges of being a passenger princess?”

“Yah, Yunho-ya!” Came the whine as Mingi followed his friend like a kicked puppy on a rainy Monday morning. 

The arena was packed and while it wasn’t an unusual sight for Mingi — always being a witness of how the bleachers slowly filled up during his warm ups —  it was weird seeing it from an outside perspective. Everything seemed so much smaller and compact compared to when he was on the ice squinting past the blinding headlights to barely even catch a glimpse of the audience. Other than practice and hockey game, Mingi had no reason to visit the arena. There was no other sport that piqued his interest enough to stand in line, pay an overpriced entry fee and freeze his ass off on a plastic chair. He’d usually just enter through the changing rooms and skip all that yet there he was, all glammed up and standing behind a family wearing shirts with the name of some random chick printed in big bold letters. 

Thinking about it, Mingi couldn’t actually give less of a fuck about figure skating and months ago he didn’t care who represented Seoul or if they were even capabale to compete with the other cities. 

“All my friends are going to be there.”

“Nice friends you have.”

“We are friends,” you said matter-of-factly, your ‘S’ coming out with a lisp. “Alllll my friends are going.”

“You want me to come to your competition princess?”

“You’ll come?!”

You slinked your arm through his and squished it against your chest, cheek pressed to his bicep as you looked at him. One would believe Mingi hung up each and every single star individually in your name for you to look at him that way.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I’ll be there.”

It was your stupid yet endearing eyes that did it all. The little shining glint that completely vexed him and before he knew it, the promise slipped off his tongue and was spoken into existence. Mingi didn’t get to indulge more in the memory of the beauty that was your face as the lights dimmed and an enthusiastic voice boomed through the speakers, welcoming everyone and announcing the start of the preliminary that would determine the female representative of Seoul at the annual Spring Championship. 

Honestly, Mingi didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know a lot of things; how long this would be, what time your performance would start, was he supposed to find you after or before they announced the winner? It also didn’t help that he was sweating through his dress shirt despite the freezing temperature inside. 

Performance after performance passed and he was yet to catch sight of you. Honestly speaking, Mingi was growing impatient. The numbers weren’t anything extraordinary — he had seen you do much better even when ending on your rear — and he wasn’t here to watch some mediocre ladies flip around to classical music. The weight of his phone burned in his suit pocket and he was itching to reach for it. He was three taps away from dialing Yunho and making the taller man pick him up again. Oblivious to the curious and soft eyes peering at the bouquet in his lap, Mingi stared at the ice rink with a far away look on his face and bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Those are beautiful,” a voice came from his left. It was comforting and full of kindness. 

Snapping his head towards the person, Mingi faced a woman looking old enough to be his mom. The compliment pulled at the corners of his lips and soon a full blown boxy smile took over his face as his eyes creased into crescent moons. 

“Thank you.”

Mingi contemplated whether to hand her the darned flowers and leave while you still hadn’t caught sight of him, that way his money wouldn’t go to waste and the flowers wouldn’t end up in the bin outside the venue.

“I’m Chaeryeong’s mom.”

“Song Mingi,” he curtly answered with a little bow of his head.

“Are those for your girlfriend?”

As kind as this woman looked she sure was twice the amount noisy.

“No, they are for a… friend. She’s competing today.”

“Oh, when is she up?”

At the sight of his uncertainty, she handed Mingi a pamphlet with several numbers followed by first- and last names of the competitors. Quickly scanning the sheet of paper he landed on your name in last place and with the twenty-ninth performer taking her starting pose right as Mingi looked back up again. The urge to squish his face against the pamphlet was immense. 

“She’s last.”

“Oh! That’s Hoseok’s kid. She’s amazing and if it weren’t for my Chaeryeongie I’d root for her.”

Pride swelled in his chest and heat nipped at his cheeks. He tried suppressing the fond smile forcing its way out but failed.

“It’s actually my first time watching her perform but yeah, she’s pretty… p-pretty cool!”

“Really? Well, it’s better late than never.”

Why Mingi was getting flustered was beyond him. Not wanting to think about it and eventually fall down a rabbit hole he always did when thinking of you, he nodded and took the praise with the lady leaving a pat on his shoulder.

“Mmm, you’re smiling! Are you sure she’s just a friend?”

Mingi lowered his chin and avoided the teasing eyes of Chaeryeong’s mom. No way was he talking about girl problems with a random lady at a figure skating competition. 

“Would you spare my seat? I just need to go to the restroom.”

“Of course, son.”

With one last bow he ran up the stairs leading to the main hall and straight for the male restroom which  — to his delight  — was empty. Mingi released a breath of unease and stopped by the sink hoping to wash away the sweat collected on his hands. Looking at his reflection in the oblong mirror, he pursed his lips and splashed cold water on his face before lightly slapping his cheeks.

“It’s easy. We hand her the flowers, tell her she did great and then we leave.”

Mingi couldn’t remember the last time he was this nervous over talking to a girl. Thinking about it, he talked to you all the time. Yes, most of it was hidden behind jokes and teasing remarks, but it still counted as talking.

“Welcoming our last performer of the night…”

The booming voice of the announcer echoed through the whole building and with a quick ‘shit’ falling from his lips, Mingi dried his hands off his expensive pants and ran back into the arena receiving weird stares from other people, but he wasn’t about to miss the start of your performance after waiting for over two hours. In sync with you gliding out on the ice he flew past the double doored entrance and caught himself on the metal railing. Mingi realized there was no need to go back to his previous spot, not when he had a great view of the whole ice rink from where he stood and a great look of you posing in the middle, one arm elegantly thrown over your head and the other following the length of your figure and stopping midthigh.

Stunning, gorgeous, beautiful, angelic, breathtaking, enchanting, marvelous and other adjectives wouldn’t do the justice to describe how truly captivating you looked. 

The first thing that caught his attention was your costume. It was a long sleeved dress transitioning from dark to light blue with sparkly beads going down your chest, across your abdomen and arms in a tilted motion as if the foam of multiple waves. Your costume had a tiny skirt which Mingi was sure would swirl prettily when pirouetting and twirling in the air. The upper part of your dress took on the shape of a heart and went down your back in a v-form leaving your collars, shoulders and back completely exposed. Your hair was styled in a sturdy updo matching the elegance of your suit and while Mingi couldn’t see your make-up, he assumed it would reflect the colors of your dress and accentuate your facial features in just the right way.

The starting notes of your chosen song erupted from the speakers and Mingi’s breath got caught in his throat as you glided across the ice, his heart beating in rhythm to your every landed jump. You moved with grace and for once the teasing nickname he reserved just for you had no malice objective behind it. You surrendered yourself to the music and allowed it to guide you, your body resembled the elements of nature and became an entity that was no longer your own. Moving like the ripples of a wind, flowing and rising as though you were water yet curving fiercely as a controlled fire and flourishing like a sunflower yearning for light.

It was beautiful. You were beautiful. 

Mingi would rather have spent two hours watching you skate than those other amateurs and he was slightly bitter your number only lasted for four minutes. 240 seconds of no breathing or thinking, just existing to admire you as if you were a painting exhibited in the most famous art museum in the world.

As you were entering the last moments of your performance, the music picked up and you mentally prepared yourself to do the main stunt. There was no turning back now and with confidence pumping in your veins, you inhaled and propelled yourself off the ice. Time slowed down and magically you could somehow hear the amazed gasps of the audience. Your body spun, and spun and spun and you felt the start of gravity doing its work. As if caught in a sense of Déjà Vu, the sharp point of your skates chipped the ice and threw your landing off course, and before you knew it, you landed on the outer side of your thigh. The crowd gasped again, the tone much more horrible than a few seconds ago, and all you wanted to do was continue to lay on the cold surface, but the show was yet to be over. In hopes of saving your score, you recovered with a double-axel which wasn’t nearly as appealing as the one you failed, but at least you landed it.

The performance ended with you posing in the middle — much like you practiced — and waiting for the last piano notes to run out. Despite your big fail the arena erupted in chaos of applause and whistles. Thanking the spectators with three respectful bows — each facing a different side — you skated off the ice with shaky legs and a heart hammering in your ears falling right in the arms of your coach. Mingi didn’t move until you rounded the corner towards the locker rooms and disappeared from his sight. 

A short static echoed in the hall as the AUX was rather harshly unplugged from your phone, making you lose your footing and fall on your ass.

The ice beneath was hard and cold, and it numbed your whole left leg except for the burning pain that flared up in your backside. You had to physically hold back tears as you stood back up on shaky legs.

“Majestic as always, princess, but I’ll have to deduct ten points for that eye captivating fall.” 

A chorus of laughter and gloves pounding against the plexiglas averted your attention for a split second, and the picture of an audience watching wasn’t much of an imagination as the whole hockey team stood by the entrance of the rink. 

Mingi sighed at the memory and stalked back to his seat where the kind family and bouquet of roses waited on him. 

“You missed her performance!” Chaeryeong’s mom exclaimed and handed him the flowers.

Mingi smiled shyly, then scratched the back of his neck. “Ah no, I watched from up there.” He turned and pointed at the spot he was standing in not even thirty seconds ago. “It was a better view so yeah…”

Chaeryeong’s mom smiled tenderly with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “What a relief! You got me worried for a minute but I should’ve known you wouldn’t miss it.”

“She was amazing,” Mingi stated and received a smug look from the woman.

“Mmm, I told you so. It’s a shame she fell. Well, we’re going out for a breather but we’ll be back so please save our seats for us.”

You sat in one of the locker rooms, head in your hands and feet tapping on the floor. The performance couldn’t have been more perfect, all for it to go to shit in the end.

All the hours, sweat and energy put into practice was a waste and you didn’t have to wait for the winner to be announced to know whether it was true or not. It was ironic really, despite being in a competitive sport, you hated the concept of competitions. The idea that there could only be one winner always got to your head like a parasite planting eggs of anxiety. Your number was great, but your fall made the other girls as good if not better and that really got you spiraling. 

Not to mention neither of your parents could make it, the timing clashing with their working schedules besides driving back and forth from your hometown was too exhausting for one day. Keeho and Dasom weren’t there either, occupied with work or school projects making it unreasonable for you to be angry with them. You also didn’t spot Hyunjin or Mingi in the audience which wasn’t that much of a surprise as you could barely make out the people in the front row, but nonetheless, the lack of support was weighing on you. That’s why in these situations, you were so grateful for Mr. Jung. Not only being your coach, but for stepping up as a ten man army of supporters.

A series of knocks snapped you out of your thoughts followed by Mr. Jung’s voice on the other side.

“You ready, star? They are announcing the winner.”

“Oh, look! I think they are announcing the winner!” Chaeryeong’s mom exclaimed as she sat back down in her seat.

The competing figure skaters went back out on the ice in a neat row, all dressed in various shimmering suits creating a palette of multiple colors. The whole crowd quieted down as the announcer asked for silence and simultaneously caught everyone’s attention. Not Mingi’s though, no his eyes were set on you who — together with the other girls — lined up behind the host. 

Hands trembling and breath caught in your throat, you didn’t allow yourself to think of anything. You felt like your head was underwater. It wasn’t scary or suffocating, but not a great feeling either as you couldn’t hear anything clearly thanks to the blood pumping in your ears. Somehow you could make out the distant voice of the man holding the mic, but no words were being registered. Focusing on the white translucent puffs of your short inhales and exhales, you didn’t hear the thick voice announcing the winner. It all happened incredibly fast. One second everyone was at the edge of their seats — you imagined them to be nibbling their nails like in the cartoons — and the next thing you know, the whole arena exploded in cheers. You were so out of it you hadn’t even heard the announcement of the winner. Although it didn’t matter, because a second later the call for a girl who wasn’t you sounded through the speakers as she was welcomed up on the podium. 

“Everyone! A round of applause for Seoul's representative of the Spring Championship 2025!”

You felt yourself sink deeper and deeper into the ocean as a booming wave of applause and whistles scattered around, shaking you to the core. Tears sprung to your eyes and you silently thanked the makeup artist for using waterproof cosmetics, the last thing you needed was for everyone to notice your emotional breakdown. The winner skated up to the host and he rewarded her with a bouquet of various flowers and a sash reading ‘Seoul Representative 2025’ in gold letters. You imagined him to be wishing her good luck and words of encouragement before letting her shine in the light of attention and praise.

After bowing to the girls, judges and audience you skated out of the rink and threw yourself in Mr. Jung’s embrace who patiently waited by the open board door. His heart smile didn’t hold quite reach its natural form and came out more pained than what he’d like to and his creased eyes mirrored your own sad expression. The flashes of a dozen cameras quickly annoyed you as well as the sound of the gadgets going off and you tried your best ignoring them, but each flicker was like a stab to your heart.

You were supposed to be the winner. The camera was supposed to be on you, not on that girl.

“It’s alright, starshine. Winning is not always guaranteed,” he whispered and hugged you tighter as you started crying harder, hot tears soaking his shirt. 

He stayed with you a while inside the locker room. The silence and your occasional sniffles were the only sources of sound, besides the light chattering noise outside. 

“I’m still proud of you.”

The simple sentence brought another fresh set of tears to your eyes and you hung your head in defeat, and slight embarrassment. 

“I know you think it’s not fair and that you should be the winner of tonight's event, but that would have been too easy and that’s just not something life is… We’ll break down and start again.”

Mr. Jung had always been exceptional at shifting between being a serious and humorous coach, but the current words spoken came from someone who had experienced failure before. From one loser to another, his little words of wisdom helped you get on your feet even if you felt like you were at the lowest point of your adult life. It would still take days to get over your disappointing performance, but you’d be alright. With a pat to your head, he ushered you to wash the blue feelings off. 

While you did that, Mingi found himself once again in the bathroom, wet hands combing through strands of hair in an attempt to look less disheveled and more like he had his shit together (he did in fact not have his shit together). He sniffed the collar of his suit jacket and then his armpits, and as he didn’t detect the smell of sweat, but the aroma of his favorite cologne — that smelled of bergamot and lavender — he straightened the jacket and went out to accomplish his mission or rather plan B. 

Instead of congratulating you, like he initially planned to, he’d do something else — and what that was, he had yet to figure out — but from his own experience, he’d known better than to give you praise, especially after losing by a few points. 

Skipping two steps down the stairs, he stopped by the see-through doors instead of continuing down the hallway with several changing rooms. Mingi didn’t know what room you were assigned to and even if he did, he wasn’t planning on barging in while you were possibly getting dressed or showering. The vision of a soapy you sent heat rushing to his head, both of them, but were quickly discarded as you came out. 

You looked different from the girl twirling on the ice minutes ago. Wet hair and dressed in comfy clothes, no fancy make up or extravagant details, but a solemn expression and puffy eyes. It didn’t matter though because you were still beautiful, he thought and fixed his tie out of sheer anxiety, and opened the door. Your name swayed at the tip of his tongue and was just in need of a small push to reach your ears. Eyes entirely focused on you, Mingi missed the boy walking towards him and slinking through the opening created by the taller man.

“Thanks, bud.” Hyunjin didn’t spare Mingi another glance as he headed straight for you. 

At a loss for words and frozen in place, Mingi just watched you fall comfortably in Hyunjin’s arms and as if a masochist he stood rooted and felt his heart squeeze painfully as you melted in his hold, your sobs filling the bleak silence taking residue in Mingi’s head. 

One, two, three and four seconds later, Mingi headed home, hands stuffed in his pockets and roses left in the trashcan by the smoking area outside. Thinking back to it, he should’ve given them to Chaeyeon’s mom — or whatever her name was — at least then they’d be rotting away on someone’s kitchen table and not in a random bin on the streets of Seoul.

Entering the shared apartment with Yunho nowhere in sight — something Mingi was grateful for — he stripped out of the expensive clothes and pushed them to the back of his closet, saving his future-self from a painful reminder of what did and didn’t happen. Somewhere in the rational part of his mind, he knew not to be angry with you, but the other part, the selfish and angry one, put the entire blame on you. If there was one thing hated more than losing, it was to be made into a fool.

“I can’t believe I lost,” you said and downed a shot of soju. 

Hyunjin quickly snatched the soju bottle from beside you before you could pour yourself another shot, your sixth one to be exact.

You frowned and placed your palms against your heated cheeks. “I’m never figure skating again.”

After the little meet up with Hyunjin, he requested (more like demanded) on treating you to food, and while you insisted he admitted he’d do it either way if you lost or won. That was how you ended up in a meat house, sitting around a table for two as Hyunjin grilled the food. 

“Don’t be silly. If you give up now you’ll never win.”

You rolled your eyes and the frown turned even deeper. Gazing down at the sizzling meat, your mouth watered and stomach rumbled impatiently. You could already taste the savory flavors just by looking at it. 

“I can’t believe you dragged me here looking like this.” 

Hyunjin raised a brow, genuinely not understanding what you meant. To him you looked just fine in a pair of leggings and hoodie, and it didn’t matter that your hair was still wet or your face bare of makeup because you were perfect.

“What’s wrong with the way you look? I think you’re cute.”

A fire lightened in your core and rose up to your cheeks, ears and neck, and the air in the restaurant changed too, suddenly feeling as if you were a chicken sitting in an oven. As your heart didn’t do its usual badum-badum-badum, you realized the effect Hyunjin had on you didn’t appear. You were surprisingly calm. Unbothered even and instead of buzzing with joy you were counting down the seconds until it was time to leave. 

Not to get you wrong, you loved his company. You’d been dreaming of days like these since the first time you laid eyes on him and now that you had it, all you wanted was nothing more than to jump in bed and just go into hibernation, and forget about the world.

Something was telling you though, that even if you were eating meat and celebrating your win, you still wouldn’t feel the spirit of a winner. Deep inside, you knew the root of it. The reason as to why a gray cloud hovered over you — besides losing — and it all led back to the absence of a certain hockey player.

“Here, try this.” Hyunjin gently hand fed you a piece of beef and other fillings wrapped in lettuce. “It’s good, huh?”

“You good there, princess?”

You reeled back, momentarily stunned by the unexpected presence. Mingi grinned at your reaction and sat back. Very satisfied with his work. As he readied his own computer, you took in his appearance and found yourself growing more irritated. There was no denying that he was attractive. Thick pink lips, a straight and sharp nose and a very prominent jaw. His brown eyes were surprisingly relaxed and didn’t resemble those of a fox. The boy was even blessed with not one, but two moles. His knitted sweater was an ugly shade of moss green but it looked good on him, much to your dismay. 

You sighed and sucked through your teeth, “Why are you here?”

Why wasn’t he there?

It was as if the universe was out to get you. 

First, you lost a spot at the Spring Championship. Then you failed an assignment that took a month of your life to get done, and if that wasn’t enough, the representative face of Seoul at next year’s championship was plastered all over town. She was even on the newspaper thrown in your mailbox, which you hadn’t subscribed to! If it weren’t for your personal duo of Chip and Dale, you’d skip school just to avoid it all. 

To say, you were feeling down right shit would be an understatement, and everyone around you could feel it. That was probably why Mr. Jung canceled a whole week’s worth of practice and you couldn’t have been more relieved.

Figure skating was the last thing you needed right now.

Besides your friends and coach giving you space or peppering you with love, there was another person to be added in that equation. Hyunjin made sure to spend more time with you, always asking to go out for lunch or a stroll in the park that usually ended up with window shopping and eating ice cream. 

“Felix and Changbin have been dying to meet you, you know,” Hyunjin stated as he scooped a spoon of chocolate ice cream.

“Really?” 

You remembered Changbin solely by his Halloween party and you pushed aside the other memories that came along with that night. The other boy, Felix, you knew a little next to nothing about. 

“Yeah, they haven’t stopped pestering me about it, especially Changbin.”

“Mmm, have you been talking about me, Hyunjin-ah?” 

The black haired boy grew red at the teasing and nearly choked on the plastic spoon. 

“Wh-what!” 

It was the first time you’d ever seen him flustered and it sure was a different sight from his usual composed self. Your chuckle filtered between the giggles and chatter of multiple friend groups. It was a surprise to see so many people outside in the snow. Hyunjin eventually calmed down and returned to his natural skin color, and he proceeded with caution at his next question, slightly afraid to walk straight into another teasing trap.

“They are going to watch that hockey game… if you want, it would be a great time to meet them.”

Truth to be told, you had completely forgotten about that sport and it had everything to do with Mingi, the only connection you had to the hockey team of your university. The last time you saw him was a few days before your performance and you hadn’t seen him since, at one moment you thought he disappeared to another country, but Keeho’s confirmation of seeing him on campus debunked that theory. It wasn’t that weird though, considering you hadn’t stepped foot in the ice rink and didn’t share any classes with him, courtesy of majoring in two completely different studies.

You wouldn’t say it to anyone, not even Dasom, but the less you saw of him, the more bored you got. Obviously, you didn’t miss his irksome comments or that stupid pet name he’d use at any given moment, yet the days seemed to go slower without the pain in the ass of a man. Going to that hockey game would maybe change that, and what better excuse than to go with Hyunjin?

“Of course! I mean,” you cleared your throat. “Of course, I’ll check if I’m free and then I’ll let ya know.”

“Great. It’s next Friday and, unluckily, I pulled the short straw so I’ll be driving… So if you can and want, there's space in my car.”

Parting your mouth to answer, the left side of your brain suddenly halted all your speech function as you caught sight of a familiar figure. 

In the many places of Seoul, he just had to be in the same park as you. Wearing a blue tracksuit with the slogan of a wolf on the front and running sneakers adorning his feet, told you he was out on a late night run. It was quite unfair how even with his hair sticking to his nape and sweat trickling down the sides of his face, Mingi still looked great.

You and Mingi had never been friends — that much you knew — but for him to just run past you without as much as a nod of acknowledgement had you questioning if something was wrong. His exhausted eyes morphed into a nasty glare as they landed on you, which served as a nail in the coffin to your theories.

“Was that Song Mingi?” Hyunjin asked from beside you.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

“What’s wrong, bean?”

Laying upside down on your bed with feet tucked beneath your pillow and your head a few inches from the edge apparently wasn’t a normal thing to do if Dasom assumed something was going on.

“Nothing, everything is perfectly fine.” 

Everything was perfectly fine if you ignored the fact that Mingi was angry with you and was intentionally avoiding you like the plague.

“Mmmm.” 

Dasom fell back and mimicked your position, arms thrown out and eyes locked on the ceiling. Some days were like that, spent doing absolutely nothing. Wrapped in big fuzzy blankets laying in either her or your bed, getting lost in space or scrolling endlessly through tiktok until the clock struck the early hours of the morning.

“You still going to that game?”

You huffed, “Yeah. I promised Hyunjin I’d go and he wants to introduce me to some of his friends in return. Is Hongjoong still coming over?”

“He hasn’t rain checked on me yet, so I think so.” She drummed her fingers against her shorts-clad thighs. “Isn’t the game at eight?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Cool.”

You slid down to the floor, brows furrowed and lips titled. “What time is it?”

“Now?”

“Yes, Dasom. Now.”

“Hmmm, it’s currently seven-thirty.”

“It’s seven-thirty!?”

The blood rushed up to your head at your abrupt movement and the whole room spun as black spots clouded your vision. Left with no choice you laid back down and clutched your skull as you tried taking control of your own body again, all while assessing the situation. The game started at eight and you had approximately thirty minutes to get changed and figure out a way to get there before then. The messages Hyunjin sent you earlier today flashed in your mind and you were starting to regret turning down his offer to pick you up, at least then you wouldn’t risk being late and embarrassing yourself in front of his friends.

“Okay, I’m jumping in the shower real quick while you put together an outfit for me that doesn’t scream ‘I spent five minutes on this’ as I walk through the doors.”

Jumping to her feet with an imaginary tail wagging left and right, she saluted. A determined yet excited look on her face. Besides writing poetry in the dim light of your fridge at three AM, Dasom had a big passion for fashion and would always play dress up with you during your childhood days. 

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”

A trail of water followed from the bathroom to the bedroom and stopped below your feet. You stood with a towel wrapped around your bare body as you watched Dasom finalizing your outfit. The clothes on your bed were a baggy gray sweatshirt with bold letters spelling out ‘TORONTO’ — borrowed from Keeho and never returned — and a pair of blue jeans. It didn’t give too much, but was still appropriate for where you were going.

“Okay, go put it on. Have you figured out a way to get there?”

Shimmying on the clothes you heaved out a breath. “Nope.”

“Want me to call Kyo?”

“It’s a Friday so I’m sure he’s pre-gaming with Jiung and the others.”

“That’s true… I mean I could always give you a ride on my bike?”

You laughed at that. The bike in question was bright purple, almost lilac-ish with shimmering tinsel handels and star shaped wheel clips. It was cute, but embarrassing at the same time. Plus it would be a shit-show, you sitting on the carrier holding on for dear life while Dasom would do her best not to run people over. She was not the most trusted driver, hence the lack of a driver’s license (that she’s tried for five times and failed every single one).

“As much as I love you, I’d rather be late than arrive on that oddity and risk a broken arm or leg.”

“Hmpf, well if you don’t appreciate Melody then you can walk there!” She crossed her arms and pouted, her lower lip jutting in a show of feigned hurt.

“I don’t really mean it, Dae-Dae, I love youuuuu! I’ll come back with something nice to make up for it.”

The sour golden retriever-looking girl immediately brightened at the mention of a treat and wrapped her arms around you, her chin digging above your sternum. 

“Can you buy those shrimp chips that I like?” 

“Deal! I seriously gotta go now, I’ll text you when I get there. Kisses and hugs and all that bullshit!”

For once you were grateful not having a car as the parking lot was packed with them and other vehicles. It must have been a big deal if some people just blatantly abandoned their cars on the sidewalk, yellow tickets flapping on their windshields. The match was in full swing and it was everything you could expect of a hockey game. Red and blue blurs of jerseys zoomed past you, the sound of blades against ice, the livid roar of the crowd, cutting blows of a whistle, sticks cracking against the puck sounding like thunder and the thump as an opponent was checked against the boards. Seeing the bleachers full of people wasn’t something you expected when you crossed the entrance. The sides were divided into two parts — red and blue — and while you weren’t about to backstab your own university by sitting with the ‘enemy’ you found no empty seats between the Blue Wolf supporters. The other side wasn’t anything better except for the few vacant seats here and there, and more nude chests and faces covered in paint. 

This was everything but your scenery. 

Staring through the plexiglas you tried spotting the familiar mop of black and white hair you hadn’t seen since God knows when. You gave up as you quickly realized the gear covered almost the entirety of their faces and body proportions, making everyone look identical to one another, the only thing differentiating them being the numbers and colors of their jerseys that did little to help as you didn’t even know his. A pair of hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders and you jumped at the unexpected touch, hastily turning to see who the culprit was and coming face to face with a grinning Hyunjin.

“Boo!”

“Don’t do that!”

His beautiful laugh reached your ears and emitted a chuckle of your own. He coaxed you into his body and enfolded you in a warm embrace that you reciprocated, chin on his shoulder and arms going around his waist. It was first when the hug broke that you could finally take in his full appearance. His whole attire — suit pants, a tucked in turtleneck and leather boots — were completely black except for the long and expensive-looking jean coat and red beanie showing support for the opposing team.

“Let’s go, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.”

Without missing a beat he took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers as he gently maneuvered you through the crowd. Every few seconds you flinched as the people jumped up from their seats, cheering or groaning at what was happening down below.

From across the rink in the bench area adjacent to the ice, the red and blue players filled the booths closest to their goalkeepers. The game was in full swing with both teams scoring a point each and neither willing to let up on their explosive paces. The substitute players were all buzzing from excitement or nerves — probably a combination of both — as they shouted encouraging words to the starting lineup. Like the remaining defencemen of the blue team, Mingi sat in the middle with his hockey stick high up in the air and shoulders squishing against his fellow position players, but his eyes weren’t trained on the puck flying from one player to another. No, they were set on the pair of figure skaters on the other side of the rink. More precisely, he was focused on their interlocked hands and the subtle exchange of smiles.

A red light and the loud blaring of the goal horn went off in the arena as the opposing team managed to hurl the puck behind the blue goalkeeper and Mingi could argue it was how he felt on the inside seeing you together. The big crowd jumped from their seats, waving their red merch and screaming words Mingi couldn’t hear over the angry voice of his coach.

“Matthew, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Wow… This is really annoying. We’re only ten minutes into the first period and we’ve already received two points,” Jungkook fumed.

It was weird that neither Mingi or Jungkook were a part of the starting lineup, considering they were up against one of the better teams of the season. Trusting that their coach was making the right decision of keeping them off the ice, Mingi didn’t try persuading him to be put in. There were still two and a half periods left of the game, leaving plenty of time for Mingi to change the course of the match if needed to. It also gave him more time to keep an eye on you and simmer in his own rage, if he just hadn’t lost you in the three seconds he looked away. Frantically searching the bleachers for a girl with a blue scarf wrapped around her neck, you were nowhere to be seen.

“Song!”

The abrupt call of his name snapped him out of his search and he was met with the beetroot red face of his coach. 

“Are you deaf?!”

“Nu-uh. No, sir!”

“Then get off your ass, you’re going in.” As Mingi stood up, his coach threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in closer. “Remember what we talked about. There are scouts watching and they’ve heard great things about this Song Mingi, so show them you’re not all talk, yeah?”

Mingi pushed in his mouth guard and nodded determinedly.

Coach patted him encouragingly and gave one last pat on his helmet for luck.

“Good, get in there and put a stop to their number three.”  

Everything turned to background noise as Mingi leaped over the board and his blades slashed against the cool surface. There was only him and his defending zone, and the fact that you were somewhere in the crowd, probably watching him or getting cozy with that stupid figure skater. The grip around his hockey stick tightened at the image and he hated the effect you still had on him. He should’ve been worrying about being on top of his game and impressing the scouts, and not what you were up to.

Mingi and Matthew held the blue line and passed the puck between each other as the remaining blue players skated around in the offensive zone, searching for an opening to get the puck handed to them. As Mingi slid the puck to Matthew, the bigger defender quickly hurled it to the next player only for the pass to be cut off. 

Going backwards, Mingi immediately retreated home while putting pressure on the puck carrier and simultaneously keeping him from having a clear view of the net. He skillfully managed to push the opposing player (without physical contact) to the side in the defensive zone. He quickly realized that he was closed off and sent the puck diagonally backwards to another red player who moved with such speed, Mingi knew he wouldn't be able to stop the additional player in time. Protests erupted from the bench as all fourteen substitute players had a hunch of what was going to happen.

To his aid came Matthew and the two defensemen managed to shut down a possible counterattack. As the remaining players entered the defending zone, the puck was still in the possession of the red team. It landed in the hold of their number three, who was a few diagonal meters from Mingi. The winger locked gazes with the blue defender and sent him a smug smirk, tauntingly saying ‘watch this’ as he winded his hockey stick up to his shoulder and readied himself for a slapshot.

Losing all control of his body, Mingi changed the trajectory of his movements and skated almost backwards while getting in number three’s sight of line. Mingi waited for the perfect timing and when the red player rushed forward to skate past him, Mingi jutted out his hip, flipping the opponent over him and stealing the puck in the process. Cheers erupted in the arena and Mingi soared at the jumbled praises and roars of encouragement.

“This is Felix and that’s Changbin, they attend TOP University. Lix-ie, Bin-ie, this is the friend I’ve been telling you about,” Hyunjin introduced you as the crowd calmed down.

The two guys weren’t dressed in anything over the top, basic hoodies and joggers or a pair of jeans with small accessories showing their support for the Red Tigers which made you feel out of place with Keeho’s blue scarf wrapped around your neck. You recognized one of them as the guy who hosted that halloween party; buffy build, a triangle shaped head, but kind features.  

“Hey.” 

The deep voice that greeted you didn’t match the sunshine-face of the other boy beside Changbin. A sprinkle of freckles covered his nose and cheeks, his eyes crinkling as he offered you a sun-like smile that matched the color of his hair.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” you gently said and sat in the spot beside the sunshine-boy.

“It’s great to finally see the girl this one’s been obsessing about,” Changbin butted in with a teasing grin and earned himself a slap on the thigh by Felix.

“Just ignore him, he loves to tease.”

“Ah, that’s okay. I know banter when I hear it,” you smiled reassuringly and looked at the game below. 

One would think that because ice was your dome, you’d easily understand other winter sports, but you were truly having trouble keeping up with whatever was going on in the newly polished rink. The puck was traveling a hundred miles an hour and the skaters were freakishly fast, you could barely keep up with who was attacking and who was defending. It seemed like the moment one team scored, the other was immediately taking back a point. On top of all, you had zero knowledge about the rules. To say you were surprised when a — what looked to be dangerous and illegal — tackle occurred, would be an understatement. You expected at least someone to jump out of sheer anger, but no one batted an eye. They just kept watching and the players resumed as if it were the most normal thing of the day.

“Do you want to die?” Chan growled as he bumped shoulders with Mingi, getting all up in the defenseman’s face.

The chants of the Blue Wolves’ fans sent another surge of adrenaline through Mingi’s veins, not that he needed it, but gave him an ego boost to return the cockiness to the max.

“I should be asking you that. Don’t think you can get past us just like that. I’ll shut you down, Chan-hyung.”

In any other circumstance and in a conversation with quite literally anyone else, the use of honorific wouldn’t have been out of place, but hearing it come from Mingi wasn’t an indication of respect. It was a ploy to humiliate him and a way to set the tone of the game. In other words, telling him not to expect an easy win. Chan didn’t think anything less.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Mingi scoffed, a smirk of triumph playing across his lips. “I already did and guess what, hyung. I’ll do it again and again, and again. You will not get past me. I’ll knock you down until your ass makes a dent on the ice.”

Returning the ever-so-kind favor of butting shoulders, Mingi pushed past him and stopped right behind his center, ready to receive the puck or defend if the odds played out in the red team’s favor.

“I’m sorry about what happened at the preliminaries,” Felix smiled empathically and placed a hand on your shoulder for support. “If it makes you feel better, I thought you were perfect and deserved to win.” 

You forced a smile at the reminder of the event. The wound was still fresh and even though Felix didn’t have any ill intentions with bringing it up, it still didn’t spare you from the bitter taste of winning — if it could even be considered a victory — second place.

“Thank you, but the jury is rarely ever wrong.”

“Tell me about it,” he started and focused momentarily on the game again. “It still doesn’t change my opinion on who should’ve won though.”

Before you could thank him again and express your gratitude to his kindness, Hyunjin joined the conversation. “Oh, I see you’ve found yourself a new figure skating partner.” 

Glancing from Felix to Hyunjin and back to Felix again, you pointed at the freckled boy. “You’re a figure skater too?”

“Yup, I've been training with Jin-ie since elementary school. A tick would be easier to shake off than him.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, everyone practically begged you to sit beside them but no, little Lixie the new student decided it would be best to annoy Hyunjin-ie in the back.” 

With a witty remark waiting on the tip of his tongue, Felix parted his lips, but was interrupted by Changbin abruptly standing up, hands clasped around his mouth and shouting, “Come on Chan! Don’t let him get away with that!”

Glancing down at the rink, you noticed number three in the red team was pushed against the border with a blue guy towering over him. Both guys seemed to be communicating through their eyes and if it weren’t for their teammates getting in between, you were sure a full on fist fight would’ve taken place in front of everyone.

“You’d think Chan was his boyfriend and not mine,” Felix said to you — more so screamed over the loud cheers and hollers of distress — and watched an agitated Changbin slump back down in his seat, eyes following the flying puck kissing the net of the red goalkeeper.

“Boyfriend?” 

“Ah, right, of course Hyunjin wouldn’t talk about his friends. Anyways I’m dating number three in the red team, maybe you’ve heard of him. Bang Chan or Christopher, whatever seems fitting.”

Your mouth turned into an ‘o’ as the puzzle pieces clasped together. Felix never stopped smiling and even chuckled at your reaction. He found you endearing and understood why Hyunjin wouldn’t stop talking about you during their study sessions. 

“I take it, you know him?”

“Mmmm, I wouldn’t say I know him but we had a brief encounter at a halloween party.”

“Ah, that’s cool. The world is really small, isn’t it?”

The buzzer beat you to an answer, indicating that the twenty minutes of the second period were out. 

“Oh, and that’s halftime,” Felix said and stood up to stretch. 

Changbin shot him a deadly stare, as if the figure skater cursed out his entire family. “You know it’s not called that. It’s an intermission!”

“Eh, we don’t keep up with all that in Australia. Halftime is halftime in whatever sport you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were Australian,” you admitted.

“What, really?” He said in English and then switched back to Korean. “All the people I meet point out I speak with an accent so I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, now that you’ve said it I can actually hear like the faintest accent. Oh, that’s embarrassing of me.” You sheepishly smiled and scratched the back of your head.

“Nah, not really. Anyway, Bin-ie and I are gonna get some snacks, you guys want anything?”

“I’m alright, thank you though.”

Felix threw you a thumbs up and looked at Hyunjin for his reply.

“Yeah, surprise me with something good.”

“Gotcha! We’ll be back like a lil’ before they start if we don’t get held up by the bathrooms. Changbin sure does love to take his time there.”

As the duo followed the crowd out, you and Hyunjin fell into a comfortable silence and listened to the chatter of the people around you. For being your first time at a hockey game, you weren’t bored at all, despite being oblivious to the set of rules. Keeho did say something about fights being legal and you sincerely hoped to avoid that. The sport on ice you were aware of was so less violent, flashy and fast paced. It was so different from your figure skating which was more or less art or a story being conveyed by body language. 

Nonetheless, you were still having a good time, even though much of it was spent getting acquainted with Hyunjin’s friends.

“So… what do you think of the game so far?”

Snapping from the ice taken over by a bunch of kids chasing each other and falling on their rears, you hummed and looked back at Hyunjin who already had his eyes on you.

“It’s interesting. I mean, it’s nothing like figure skating, obviously, but it’s cool… Do you guys always do this? Watch hockey?”

“Mmm, not always, but whenever Chan has a game we try to show our support just like he does whenever Lix or I have anything going on with our figure skating.”

“That’s sweet of you. That’s actually really cute,” you gushed and the thought reminded you of your own friend group. How Keeho and Dasom showed up at your competitions or the many times you and Keeho attended Dasom’s poetry slam.

Hyunjin leaned closer to you, a playful smile across his features. “I don’t like being called cute, but considering it’s coming from you I’ll let it slide.”

Taken back by the almost flirtatious side of Hyunjin, you bashfully looked away and cheekily covered your mouth, hiding the way your smile expanded at his comment. Hyunjin, attentive as always, took notice of the action and chuckled.

“How, uhm…” 

You leaned back in your seat and braided your fingers together as the change of topic went from cheerful to sullen.

“I didn’t want to ask in front of those two, but yeah… How you holding up?”

Still trying to hold up your happy expression, you faced him and tilted your head, and Hyunjin had to physically hold back from planting a kiss on your cute nose. 

“I’ve been alright. There’s not much I can do to be honest and I don’t want to dwell on it more than necessary, you know?”

“That’s understandable. Why think about the things that make you feel bad?”

“Exactly. I’ve decided to focus on the more happier things in life.” You grimaced as a hockey player tripped and smacked head first into the plastic glass. “Even if that is watching people get concussions for just 13.000 won.”

Hyunjin burst out laughing, elegantly covering his mouth with the back of his hand and tipping his head backwards. A laugh of your own lingered with his and the multiple cheers in the air. 

“Three for three, Jeon Jungkook does it again! The nimble winger of the Blue Wolves can’t be stopped!” 

The announcement sounded through the arena a few seconds after the red lights flashed behind the Tiger’s goal and buzzer erupted, nearly rupturing your eardrums. Jungkook was really on a blast tonight, you thought as you followed his retreating figure, making a mental note of remembering his jersey number. Although you had yet to find Mingi, you felt proud for at least figuring out Jungkook and Chan, completely dismissing the fact that you barely knew a handful of players on the ice.

“You’re doing great out there, Kookie.” Mingi dunked him on the back as they retreated to the neutral zone. “Make that into five out of five and I’ll treat you to some lamb skewers.”

The smirk stretched across Jungkook’s face could only be described as menacingly and with  him in his element, Mingi knew they weren’t going to go down without a fight. 

“Add steamed dumplings into the mix and I’ll double it.”

As the referee held the puck in the air between the red and blue centers, the rest of the players prepared themselves for another brawl over who put the puck behind the opposing net. Mingi was warm all over, and the extra weight of pads and equipment was taking a toll on his body, as well as defending his home base, but each time a player was stopped, the pride was enough to resurrect his energy. Glancing slightly to the side, everything moved in slow motion as he briefly made eye contact with the supporters of both teams. Some were screaming at him out of happiness and others with harmless distaste, angry at his ability to shut down the reds’ plays and advances. Moving further up the rows, it was like a headlight lit up a spot in the crowd, and suddenly, amongst the hundreds of people, he could make you out like a tulip in the middle of a meadow.

The hold around his stick tightened seeing you squished between pretty boy and an unrecognizable face, and Mingi promised he didn’t care. He didn’t care as pretty boy whispered something in your ear and he definitely didn’t care as you flung your head backward, and let out what probably was the most angelic laughter known to heaven. Smoke erupted from his nostrils and the moment the puck was in possession of the red team, the vibrant colored jerseys irked him like a matador irritatnig a bull. As the puck was in play, all sound ceased to exist and Mingi zeroed in on the players advancing forward. 

Mingi would describe it as being underwater with all the noise distant and his movement sluggish no matter how hard he tried to lift his limbs, and if  he wasn’t so aware of his surroundings, Mingi would certainly think he was losing one of his five senses. 

See, although ice hockey was a sport all about seeing and physical contact, hearing was an important part too and if Mingi wasn’t revolted by your presence, he wouldn’t have missed the referee signaling an offside, and he wouldn’t have skated into the first player daring to cross the blue line that separated the defending and neutral zone.

The referee immediately blew his whistle and fully extended his right arm, fist clenched and eyes set on the defenseman, and time turned back to normal as a pop-like sound burst in Mingi’s ears. He barely managed to realize what happened when another body collided against his, pushing him straight into the boards. Chaos ensued as multiple players got involved trying to ease the situation, but the damage was already done and Mingi was sent to the penalty box — purposely avoiding the heavy gazes of the blue bench — along with whichever guy flew into him.

He cursed out loud as he slumped down on the bench. This was embarrassing on so many levels. It was one thing to ram into someone as payback, but lashing out for no apparent reason and after the whistle was (almost) unacceptable. He wanted to laugh at his stupidity; so much for not caring. 

“What happened?” You asked no one in particular, surprised at the sudden turn of events.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Ah, that Song Mingi, always up to no good,” Changbin grumbled, more so to himself than you. 

You snapped your eyes to the plastic enclosure the blue player was sent off to and sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. Through the year you had known Mingi, you’d never guess he could really use his size and strength to quite literally floor another person. Hockey was a rough sport, that wasn’t news to you, and considering Mingi could use his strength to his advantage, it was probably why he was so sought after. You couldn’t shake away this feeling of awareness. Just now realizing how… big Mingi actually was and you didn't know whether it was relief or pride, knowing that of all the times you pushed him over the edge, never once did he raise a finger at you out of anger or spite. 

Mingi may have been an asshole with 70% height and muscle, but he wasn’t a bad guy. 

“That’s called roughing,” Felix started explaining. “It’s like… I wouldn’t say it’s an illegal move, but if done out of motive or in a way to really hurt the other player, it could lead to a minor penalty — a timeout — or game misconduct. But it all depends on how bad the situation is.”

“So he won’t play until the end of the game?”

“Nah, he’ll probably be out in like a few minutes,” Hyunjin answered for you and clapped as the red team scored, evening out the score board to five-five.

“Then the blue team will be a player short up until then?.”

“Pretty much,” Felix confirmed and popped a chip in his mouth.

You didn’t see how that could be fair, but then again, ice hockey wasn’t your forthe and as no one in the crowd was making a fuss over Mingi’s penalty — except for pointing out his poor judgment — you didn’t say much else, but hum in agreement. For twelve minutes, you didn’t pay attention to what was happening on the ice, only applauding when the crowd did and slumped back in your seat as the supporters groaned in disappointment. Your full attention was set on the lone player in the plastic box. 

Worry, confusion and pity circled your mind and you wondered if this was how everyone felt seeing the placement of your figure skating competition. As soon as the thought made home in your head, you shooed it away, reminding yourself to focus on the happy things and not everything that was blue. 

Forcing your eyes from Mingi, the most blue thing in the arena (both clothing and emotion wise) you zoned out and the players blurred into small vivid spots twirling on the ice like flies above a bowl of fruit. You didn’t understand where the worry came from or why it decided to take shelter in your stomach. It probably wasn’t Mingi’s first rodeo in the penalty box and wouldn’t be the last on either, and you recognized his sudden outburst as the one you saw a glimpse of at the party, right before you left him with that blonde police officer. 

Mingi never lashed out in anger and if he did, you were never on the receiving end of it despite giving him back a tenfold of insults he greeted you with. Seeing him quite literally floor a guy his size, made your guts twist in discomfort. It was an emotion that didn’t look good on him at all. 

The game was growing more intense with each minute passing and the atmosphere amongst the audience was also getting rowdier as the teams were practically neck and neck, neither willing to let up. The second Mingi stepped foot on the ice again, the whole arena blew up with cheers. It was like the almost extinguished torch of hope re-awakened into a bright and lively fire, and you too held onto the light of hope that the Blue Wolves would take it home, definitely because of your loyalty to Tiny University and not the growing affection for a certain defender in said school. 

The puck was flying from one side of the rink to the other in just a matter of seconds with all players, excluding the goalkeepers, circling around and cashing the rubber like stone. 

“Here, wanna help me hold this up?”

You didn’t know how you missed the big sign leaning against Felix’s legs, but you did. With a nod of agreement, you both took hold of each side of the white cardboard cutout and quickly looked at the glittery blue writing on it. 

I am Chan’s #1 fan. 

“Don’t judge, I made it like last second.” A blush kissed his cheeks and his eyes squeezed into crescent moons as you read the corny line.

“No, no! I think it’s cute.”

With ten seconds left of the game everyone in the arena stood up which made you and Felix raise the sign even higher. When everyone thought the game would end in a tie, a player from the defending line of the blue team somehow managed to steal the puck from two red players and sent it hurling across the rink, right in the sanctuary of his teammate’s stick who calculatedly launched it towards the red goal and past its keeper. The buzzer went off and chaos ensued. From what you could see all the Blue Wolves players crowded the scorer and dunked the defender who sent the winning assist, while the fans raised the volume through the roof. Whistling, cheers, laughter, even some old fashion booing circulated the arena.

Not all that upset with the outcome of the game, Felix applauded and turned to his friend who seemed to be quite butthurt. “Song really is crazy good, isn’t he Bin-ie?”

“Whatever, he’s lucky Jake sprained his ankle and couldn’t play today or he’d have them all eating ice. Ha! Get it, cause they’re playing on i–”

The rest of the conversation was tuned out as you focused on the celebrating team, trying to catch sight of eighty-nine. Your eyes traveled from one bulky player to another and then, as if your prayers were answered, the player came right into view. 

Mingi walked beside a shorter guy clad in blue and you assumed it was Chan by the sole way he pointed up at you and the other guys. Your suspicion was confirmed as the helmet was removed and Chan’s face was illuminated by the strong lights. You could just make out the faint movement of his mouth, saying something to the giant beside him. 

“Good to know your girl is cheering for the right team, Mings.”

Mingi followed the invisible line leading to where you stood and scanned the group of friends. He immediately recognized Hyunjin and the buff one, and he didn’t even manage to take a proper look at the third boy as his eyes found yours. Beautiful as ever, he thought and admired as much of you as possible. Your face, clothes, make-up and everything about you was perfect, and the passive aggressive comment was almost brushed to the side until he zeroed in on the paper in your hands. It was in that moment that the rose-tinted glasses slipped down his nose, jealousy quick to seep into every corner of his existence and he remembered why he’d been avoiding you for weeks.

Before he could send you a sharp (and unjustified) glare, he redirected his anger to the guy beside him. 

“Oh, don’t be like that. She was the one to look at me first.

Mingi wasn’t a violent person, he really wasn’t, but there was no acceptable excuse for why he did what he did. 

As if born ready for this day, Mingi used his teeth to tear off his gloves and pounced on Chan. One hand grabbed around the collar of his red jersey as the other was colliding with his cheek. He managed to get in two more punches — the first successfully collided with Chan’s jaw and the second just barely missed the bone of his nose — before Chan used his own limbs to defend himself. The red winger grabbed hold of Mingi’s helmet and snatched it off his head, and seized the chance to send a fist flying in his face, returning the punches he received from the blue defender. Red bruises quickly littered across their knuckles and warm blood covered their skin, the thick liquid pouring from both Chan’s nose and Mingi’s lip.

The crowd was going wild, the whistles of the referees were being ignored and it didn’t take long before the remaining players of each team were trying to separate the two brutes. 

“Oh my God!” 

Felix and Changbin flinched at your gasp. 

“He’s fucking crazy. Hey! What the hell?!” Changbin jumped between the seats and rocketed down towards the ice with the rest of you hot on his heels.

The silence was deafening. Everyone was curious as to what was going on and why a fight ensued now that the game was over, usually the nose breaking happened on ice and not off. Whispers and rumors spread like a wildfire, some claimed it was the aftermath of adrenaline while others thought of something more extreme like hard drugs taking over. Nonetheless, the crowd riled them on, clearly finding joy in the brawl. You weren’t anywhere near when the referees and teammates broke them up, Mingi being forcefully sent towards the locker room as Chan stayed laying on the ground, crimson face and teeth no longer pearly white.

“What the hell, Mingi,” you muttered under your breath and slipped through the mass of people, running to where you assumed he’d be. 

Your head was working a hundred miles an hour with the images of Mingi hunched over Chan, fists violently beating the blonde and a lot of blood covering his face. You were sure you’d never get them out of your head and you shuddered at the amount of red that ran down Chan’s nose. For the sake of the giant asshole you grew attached to, you hoped it wouldn’t put a stop to his career, both school- and sportwise. It would by far be his dumbest decision yet. For what even?

A group of reporters stood outside a door you assumed was reserved for the Blue Wolves and if that wasn’t enough of a give away then it was the loud cheers and victory singing echoing out to the hallway. In reality you wanted nothing more than to barge inside and interrupt their celebration — how they could celebrate after that bloodbath was still something you couldn’t wrap your head around — but you did no such thing. The moment the door opened you pushed the reporters aside and flew in with your head first, paying no mind to the perverse wolf whistles and cheers of the adrenaline drunken boys. You didn’t even bother with them as your eyes scanned the room that smelled of sweat and axe deodorant for him. Jungkook, seemingly the most normal one there (which spoke volumes), quickly understood why you were there and approached you with no teasing glint or malice in his gaze.

“Try looking by the abandoned gym on the ground floor. There’s a vending machine there we usually go to so I assume if he’s taken off somewhere it should be there.” 

You wasted no time in turning on your heel and practically sprinting down the route you repeated like a mantra. First floor. Abandoned gym. Vending machine. First floor. Abandoned gym. Vending machine.

Lo and behold, he was right there and if it weren’t for the worry growing in your belly you’d go back upstairs and reward the playboy with a big smooch to his rosy lips. 

Mingi sat down on the floor, legs up to his chest and forearms folded on his knees. His sweaty forehead was leaning against the skin of his arm and an anxious rhythm of his heart beat in his chest. It was hard to miss the red on his knuckles. Inhaling a shaky breath as if it would steady your own heart, your feet stopped before him falling right in his line of sight. Surprised at the unexpected company, Mingi looked up and got a first row ticket of the concern swimming in your eyes. You didn’t know what to expect going after him, but the annoyed — almost disgusted — scoff he let out cut through you like a knife and twisted as he looked back down. Despite the act of annoyance aimed at you, Mingi wasn’t actually that annoyed with you but rather with himself because after everything he still had the urge to reach for your touch and he hated it. His jaw clenched at the circumstance and his nails dug in the palms of his hands. You weren’t even supposed to be here, it made everything ten times harder than it should’ve been.

Having had enough of his pity party Mingi and the weight of your gaze judging him, he pushed up from his position and walked right past you. No hello, no second glances, just walking as if you were a ghost he couldn’t see let alone feel. His movements halted when you latched onto one of his wrists, knowing that if he truly wanted to get away he’d shake you off like a ragdoll and be on his merry way. Although he was with his back facing you, the fact that he stood  rooted to the ground was the approval you seeked to continue with your winged attempt at getting him to speak.

“Mingi, what the hell was that?” 

The two of you weren’t heavy on the use of honorifics, but hearing you spit his name out like that surely sent a shiver down his spine. You weren’t pissed off, he noticed, you were actually worried and it was quite amusing. The nerve you had of showing up after that fiasco to interrogate him about his actions. Who the hell did you think you were?

“Huh? Why did you do that?” Shaking his arm, you tried again. “Can you please say something? I’m worried for you and your silence isn’t helping, please just say something.”

Mingi didn’t budge and you were starting to lose it. The avoidance wasn't enough, now he was blatantly ignoring your attempt at helping too.

“What is your problem?! I’m trying to help you, something’s obviously happened so why won’t you tell me!”

Ripping his wrist out of your hold, he turned around and it took every particle in you not to cower at his sharp eyes staring you down. 

“You want to know what my problem is?” His loud voice bounced off the walls and punched you right in the gut. 

There was so much anger in his gaze, his tone and his body. Everything screamed of anger and you didn’t even know why you were on the receiving end of his emotions. You were just trying to help.

“You! You are my fucking problem!”

“What?”

“As if you don’t know what you’re doing. Acting all nice and cutesy like we are friends, like you’re interested in ever befriending me which now that I think about is so stupid because you and I? What a joke. We’re a fucking joke!”

“What are you even talking about?!”

Mingi scoffed again. He looked to the side, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. There were so many thoughts going through his head and all he could think about was what words to use to hurt you the most. To make you feel the hurt he did.

“First, you invite me to your stupid competition and then you come to my game sitting with him! Was this all a game, huh? To get back at me for all the dumb shit I did to you because if it is then wow, you’ve really proven yourself to be more shallow and boneless than I ever thought. I mean, you’re really going out of your way to get under my skin and act like a fucking–”

Mingi closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut, the veins on his neck were more prominent than ever and his face was almost identical to the red color of Dasom’s hair. He really needed to calm down before he said something he’d regret. Not that it mattered, the damage was already done and he knew the aftermath was already biting him in the ass. Shit, the look of your glossy eyes was quick to make his inside burn with remorse.

Each insult was a poisoned arrow aimed at your heart. The words physically hurt you more than ever before and you weren’t aware just how mean Mingi could be. Your previous bickering never stooped on a level this low before and it brought tears to your eyes but even that wasn't enough to stop his rant. Not wanting to be caught vulnerable in front of the guy who was practically stepping on you with his shoes, you quickly wiped away the tears that managed to escape.

Mingi knew he was taking his frustration out on you and he knew it wasn’t fair because you hadn’t done anything wrong. It all kept piling on his shoulders. All the instances he saw you two together; the joint practices, your embarrassed giggles any time Hyunjin breathed, watching him console you in the hallways like a poor reenactment of a romcom, sitting so close together at his game, shoulders touching a little too close for Mingi’s liking… If that stupid piece of cardboard was a bomb waiting to be activated, then Chan was the flame that set everything off. 

“Oh, great. This is really great now you’re fucking crying too. You think some tears are going to make me feel bad? They won’t, I don’t care anymore okay? I’m done with you and your fucking shit. So go back to your prince fucking charming and don’t even bother looking for me, you hear? I’m fucking done!” 

You shrunk back at his unwavering and stern voice. Having nothing more to say Mingi stormed away, blood boiling and hands shaking as the final words set in. The last you saw of him before gut-wrenching sobs wrecked your body was the door slamming up against the wall and back the doorframe so hard the walls vibrated. And later that same night when Mingi got home, he wouldn’t even be surprised if you decided to never look at him again, let alone speak with him. 

Different emotions tore you apart and it was hard to make sense of anything that happened in the past ten minutes. The questions — what, why, how — were endless and you wanted to go home, preferably dig a hole in your bed and not come out until better days, whenever that would be you didn’t know. Tears burned your cheeks like lava and snot tickled your nose, dropping off your chin and onto your shirt. With the already wet sleeve of your sweater you wiped everything off your face, not in the right mind to care about what Keeho would say about his precious shirt. Like a baby cub seeking its momma bear for comfort, you retreated home yearning for the closest touch of a mother you could find.

“You have reached the voicemail of Choi Dasom. Please leave a message after the beep.”

After the fifth attempted call, you gave up and continued trudging home. Dark clouds hovered over Seoul and the light pelts of rain quickly became a downpour. Being picked up on Dasom’s bike didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Unlocking the front door of your shared apartment you were greeted with Hongjoong and Dasom sitting awfully close on the couch. They jumped apart as you harshly dropped the keys in the fruit bowl and froze at the sight of you; bawling, wet and shivering. Skipping the formalities you wasted no time diving in the shower and by the time you ventured back out, Hongjoong was nowhere to be seen as if the boy was never there to begin with and you couldn’t have been more relieved. You’ve had enough boys for the next ten years of your life.

“Beans?” 

It was probably the dumbest thing to cry about, but your lips still quivered and the tears you just managed to stop surfaced at the nickname. The girl caught you in her arms and you buried your head in her shoulder as your cries got louder. Dasom offered you solace with gentle rubs to your back and patiently waited until your labored breathing became even. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” she whispered and slowly guided you to your bedroom. 

Attentive as always she helped you get under the covers and shuffled in beside you to which you immediately buried your face in her bosom, her hand slank under your neck and connected with the other at the back of your head. You lay there in each other’s presence and listened to the coexisting beat of your hearts. Dasom didn’t try coaxing the troubles out of you and you heaved out a big breath. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at the constant tears and after waking up from passing out of exhaustion, you knew you’d be a victim of an unbearable headache and heavy feet. The whisper of your name was loud in the silent room and you hummed in reply, letting the other girl know you were in fact awake.

“You wanna talk about it?”

The most obvious thing would be to talk about it; talk about why you burst through the door, face wet and not entirely because of the rain. Your mom always told you to never sleep with an empty stomach, a busy mind or a heavy heart and while you didn’t appreciate the advice at the minute, future-you would (hopefully) think back to this moment and thank you for your courage. Dasom followed in tow as you sat up criss-crossed, taking your hands in hers and giving them comforting squeezes every once in a while. By the time she was pulled through the story of your evening — meeting Changbin and Felix, having a good time with Hyunjin, to seeing Mingi beat the living shit out of Chan and then him lashing out on you — the clock struck somewhere between two and three in the morning, courtesy of a few short crying breaks in between. Glancing up at your friend who was still digesting the events, you felt lighter at the thought of having your very own sun sharing warmth and hope wherever she went.

“He likes you,” she eventually said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You sniffled and wiped at your nose again, hands falling to play with the bedsheet. 

“He doesn’t.”

“How do you know who I’m talking about?”

You thought you ran out of tears hours ago but were proven wrong as a new batch stung your eyes and eventually trickled down your sore cheeks. Dasom pulled you in another soul crushing hug and held the back of your head, nails gently massaging your scalp.

“Why are you crying, bean?”

Through tears and her thick cardigan you replied. “Because we aren’t talking about Hyunjin, are we? He’s the one we should be talking about.”

“But we aren’t and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

It felt wrong crying over someone who held no significance in your life just a few months ago. The same guy who riled you up like it was his daily dose of sunshine and who set it as his life mission to have you curse him out. The guy who called you stupidly cute nicknames and walked you home at night, offering up his jacket to keep you warm and safe from colds. The guy who didn't turn up to your competition and then lived in your head like an annoying song playing on repeat refusing to disappear. The same guy who shook you to your core with his angry words and fiery gaze.

“Why am I like this?”

“Like what?” 

Dasom wasn’t foolish. She knew what you were going through and could only hope you’d come to terms with the unknown feelings rather than to be the one revealing the reason behind your heartbreak. 

“Drawn to a guy who’s mean and an asshole when I have the perfect one right there, waiting and catering to my every need.”

“I know I’m supposed to hate him for the things he’s said to you and I do, I really do bean…. so if you think I won’t at least glare him down in the hallways then I’m revoking your position as my best friend… But I’m going to be completely honest with you, bean because that’s what you deserve. I think something else must have triggered him to lash out, it couldn’t just have been because you were simply sitting beside Hyunjin.”

She gently played with your hair as the words sank in.

“He really hurt me.”

“I know, bubs and I’m so sorry. Know that nothing excuses that behavior.”

“Then why do I still think of him even when he’s shit. Why won’t my brain let me be happy with Hyunjin?” You broke from the huge and fell back on the bed, hands gripping the sheets as if they held all the answers to your questions. 

“Hyunjin is safe. We all like the safe and predictable, right?” 

Your nod of agreement spurred her on. 

“But Mingi, oh Mingi, is exciting. He drives you crazy, keeps you on your toes and throws you off course yet you can’t ever really get enough of him no matter how much it annoys you. I see it and I’ve been seeing it for months now and I promise this is the most objective version of me speaking right now.”

“But I like Hyunjin,” you whined, refusing to accept your own feelings.

“And you like me and Kyo too,” Dasom whispered softly, like a breeze passing through a field. “But we don’t fall in Mingi’s category.”

The days leading up to the holidays were spent within the four walls of your room waiting for the time to pass until you’d take your suitcase and haul ass across the country, definitely not because you were afraid to stumble across the very person you were avoiding. After the not so pleasant discovery you didn’t know what to make of yourself or your feelings. You couldn’t just phone him and proclaim your undying love because last time you checked, he explicitly made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you. You from a few months ago would throw a party big enough to think it was for a quinceañera or a sweet sixteen celebration with this information, but the present-you acted like Bella Swan during the disappearance of Edward Cullen just a tad bit less depressing.

Dasom was the first to leave. Her parents surprised her with a vacation to Jeju-island and her flight left the first morning of winter break. Keeho was still in the city but with college out of the way, he took on more working hours than usual. His immediate family lived in Canada and the plane ticket would be more expensive than the salary he’d get over the next two weeks. With your two friends unavailable you passed time thinking about the one who shall not be named and realized how unfortunate the whole situation was. You also realized you probably wouldn’t act upon your feelings as you didn’t with Hyunjin and would just let them flow until evaporating into thin air. 

Speaking of Hyunjin, you and him still texted back and forth albeit the conversations were slow and not nearly as exciting as you once found them to be. Your sudden disappearance at the hockey game was covered with a quick lie of ‘not feeling well’, which he immediately believed because, why wouldn’t he? Christmas wasn't anything special. It started with an early message of Hyunjin wishing you a Merry Christmas attached with a selfie of him in a Santa hat and fake beard, and the rest of the day was spent inside with your family watching movies and drinking hot cocoa. 

The new year was welcomed on the couch where a bump would sooner or later be formed and that alone was enough to explain the excitement level in the household. You all went to sleep a little after midnight and as you laid in your childhood bedroom, feet almost sticking out of the small bed, you mindlessly scrolled down the explore section of Instagram. A pang of sadness struck you at the picture staring back at you through the screen. It was a post of Mingi and his friend — the golden retriever looking one — posing on a snowy mountain both clad in skiing gear. The taller of the two had an arm slung over Mingi’s shoulder who, in return, sported a boyish grin and held up a peace sign. The split lip had healed perfectly and the only indicator of him being in a fight was the slight plum colored mark under his eye (courtesy of a nice punch delivered to his nose). At least someone was happy with you out of their lives. 

Angry, sad and just tired, you exited the app and shoved your phone under the pillow drowning out your scream. You didn’t even know why his post landed on your feed. Wasn’t the explore page supposed to show videos of millennials doing cringy trends and not the most recent activity of the dude that shit all over you.

This continued on for days. While you were decomposing in your room he was updating his Instagram account as if a celebrity. Pictures and videos of him clubbing until the early hours of the morning, pretty girls and tables full of alcohol captured in short stories and then a complete 180; sharing clips of him flying down snowy mountains, doing stunts and whatnot.

If he was so upset with you, why were you the one wasting days self wallowing? It wasn’t like you could party away the worry. Your hometown was the size of a nut meaning A) you knew everyone and their mother, and B) every person in a ten mile radius was well-over the age of forty and the closest thing that came as a party would be the retirement home down the street. Then again, playing bingo with the grannies was better than binge watching gut-wrenching dramas. At least you’d be clearing your ‘to watch-list’.

The weeks passed in a blur and, before you knew it, you were back in the comfort of your apartment with two days to spare until classes started rolling again. Dasom would be home the day after and Keeho was either passed out in his apartment or working his second shift of the day, leaving you to unpack the chaos sealed inside your suitcase. Swirls of snow beat violently against the windows, turning the outside world into a winter wonderland. The heavy weather picked up on your journey home and as you traveled halfway back to Seoul, the ground was slowly being covered in white flakes. You only got so far with your unpacking when a series of knocks rattled against the front door. 

“What’s uuuuup?!” Keeho screeched as you opened the door and an equally excited Dasom rolled in with her red large suitcase. 

“What are you doing here?!” 

They pulled you into a hug. Keeho’s loudness and Dasom’s giggles warmed up the place in no time and you immediately felt better.

“Surprise!”

“I hate you guys!” You exclaimed and squeezed their waists, head resting on Keeho’s shoulder with Dasom’s nose buried against your chest.

“Don’t lie, we know you love us. Now let’s get this bitch started!”

Scurrying to the kitchen Keeho brought back three animated cups; one with Naruto, Totoro and–

“You’re not drinking beer from the cup plastered with a picture of my dead cat!”

“Of course not, that one’s yours. Mine’s the Naruto one and Dasom gets Totoro, for obvious reasons.”

Said girl skipped quickly to the pantry and pulled out multiple bags of snacks. The huge smile on her face got you all curious.

“What’s got you all happy?”

“Nothing, I've just missed you guys! Jeju was fun but it would’ve been better with you there,” she pouted and poured the snacks into separate bowls.

“Pfft, don’t listen to her. She’s been texting that Cruella de Vil boy all winter break.”

Her smile grew and grew until it was a full blown grin and you squealed in delight, genuinely happy for your friend despite the green monster gnawing at the back of your head. 

“Tell me everything, c’mon!”

“Ah, ah, ah!” The fun and what would be the start of a girls’ night was interrupted by Keeho. “I should be the one asking you that, little miss I’m in love with my greatest enemy.”

Gasping, you turned to Dasom. “You told him?!”

“So it’s true?!” 

He leaned towards you and nearly snickered as your hands covered your mouth — if it weren’t for the serious circumstance — and stared at him with wide eyes. You walked right into his trap and as you told him everything that happened — the good and the bad — Dasom threw her hand out, palm facing upward..

“Pay up, pretty boy!”

“They aren’t even together!”

Dasom, a feral little chihuahua, jumped on him and a wrestling match took place in the middle of the living room. You couldn’t find it in you to be mad or upset. Leaning back against your arms, you watched them with a smile tugging at your lips. This is what you missed back in your childhood home. As much as you loved your family, the one you built in the heart of Seoul was very dear to you.

The ding of your phone snapped you out of your love-struck daze.

Hyunjin [07:16 PM] you back home yet?

You [07:16 PM] yeah, arrived a few hours ago

Hyunjin  [07:16 PM] im glad

Hyunjin  [07:16 PM] how was it?

You [07:17 PM] Good to see the family again but God did I miss my bed

You [07:17 PM] What were you up to?

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] yeah no kiddin ik exactly what u mean

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] Nothing much, did a lot of practice on the choreo w Iseul

You [07:17 PM] Ohhhh how’s that coming along?

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] it’s good but nowhere near perfect

You scoffed at the reply.

You [07:17 PM] I’m sure you’ll get it down in no time

Keeho harshly grabbed your shoulders, peering down at the screen but not comprehending any of the words.

“And who are you texting?” 

“Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin!” Dasom sang, already tipsy from the soju she downed while you were busy typing away.

“And what does Mr. Popular want?"

Hyunjin [07:19 PM] wanna help me practice? 

Author's note pt.2: There's one thing I'd like to say regarding this chapter. When it comes to significant others, situation ships, partners, etc do not ever let anyone speak to you in a condescending matter. It doesn't matter how upset they are or what you've done for them to explode, you should never, and I really mean NEVER let anyone talk down to you. The only reason I didn't make MC obliterate Mingi is for the sake of the story, otherwise I'd have her drag him along the streets of Seoul like a dog, lmao. Anyway, if anyone speaks to you like Mingi did to MC in their fighting scene, please either leave/break up or put them in their place. You deserve to be treated with respect and love as much as anyone else.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2024 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 4

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 8.1k

Content: none! there is no content lmaooo nah there is just none that needs to be warned for, I don't think, so enjoy freely!!!!!

A/N: I know, I know, it's taken an age but here we are!! And I'm honestly kind of nervous to see how people react!!!! huge thank you to my betas @blog-name-idk @amethystwritesbts and @here2bbtstrash

Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

Chapter Four – Someone Old, Someone New 

The message came in shortly after lunch. 

Mei.97: hey girl! Long time no see!!! I’m going to be in Seoul this week, pleeeeaaasse tell me you’re free for dinner tomorrow?!!? It’s been too long!!! Xxx 

You had to read the message twice to be sure you were reading it right. You hadn’t heard from Mei—an old university friend—since your first ‘breakdown’. You wondered what on earth she could want. But you weren’t in any position to be turning down an outreached hand. 

You: sure! It would be great to see you! 

A few months ago, that would have been a huge lie. Now, it was only a little one. You weren’t looking forward to having to smooth over the details of your breakdown, or your break-up, but you had been close as students and it would be easier with her—she moved back to Busan after graduating, so you could put a little bit of the blame for your losing contact on that, too. You knew you weren’t quite there yet, but you felt like you were healing, you were making progress; you sometimes even felt, on occasion, pretty good about life. And you wanted to share that.  

The first thing you heard upon walking into the bar you had suggested was the loud screech of your name. Then Mei was running over. You had barely even noticed her before she was wrapping her long arms around you in a huge hug. Her hair was as long and silky as it had ever been; she was still wearing the same perfume she always used to wear, and too much of it, as she always had; she looked almost exactly the same, except a little richer, a little chicer, like someone who had truly settled into themselves. She outshone the whole restaurant and looked as if she didn’t notice, as she always used to. The real world didn’t seem to have dimmed any of her at all. You were pleased with yourself that this didn’t make you completely sick with envy. 

“Girl, oh my god, it is so good to see you! You look amazing! I can’t believe it; you’ve barely changed! Love the hair, though,” she announced to basically the whole bar. 

You’d forgotten that she was possibly the only person in the world who was louder and talked more than you did. You’d forgotten how much you liked her. You had no need to be nervous, you realised, because it would never occur to her to judge someone; she just wasn’t that sort of person because she wouldn’t even have the time for it. She was more than just a rolling stone: this rolling stone had an engine and jet fuel. 

“I ordered a bottle of wine because I wasn’t sure if you were still into the same drinks and I figured, wine is a safe option, right? You want some?” she asked but she was already pouring into your glass. “Tell me everything, babe. It has been so long. What is up?” 

You took a deep breath. Where to start? 

* 

You marvelled at how painless the night had been. It was fun. Somehow, despite all the discussion you’d had about your life since university, your life now, it wasn’t painful. Not really. Mei was single, too, and courting every man in Busan before her parents tightened the screws on her to settle down. She was enjoying working for the family business (if a corporation can be called merely a ‘business’). She was earning a salary that made you wince and made her promise dinner was on her. You were doing reasonably well in your career, too, actually. You were earning enough to live in Seoul on your own. Things weren’t perfect, but Mei was such a positive and enthusiastic steam-roller that she made you feel like you were thriving, not wilting. She was exactly what you needed.  

You were just wishing that she didn’t have to leave Seoul, that she could move and stay forever when she took her ice-cream spoon from her mouth and looked sheepishly at her empty bowl. 

“I have a confession to make,” she began. “I had a teeny ulterior motive for asking you to dinner.” 

Your stomach lurched. 

“Oh?” 

“You remember my cousin Sungbin? He came to visit that time at uni?” 

“The one we had to carry back to your room?” 

“You mean the one we had to find someone else to carry back to my room?” 

“Yes!” You laughed. “Yes, I remember! How could I forget?” 

He was a sweet, tall drink of water who accepted every shot and drink foisted on him by his cousin and her friends until he passed out in the bar. You and Mei had dragged him through the streets of Hongdae asking every passerby if they could help you get him home. You didn’t remember who actually helped or much of the rest of the night, but that arduous 100-meter drag was almost as painful as your hangover had been the following day. 

“What about him?” 

“Ok, so my uncle is retiring, right? He’s still going to be on the board but he’s retiring from his actual position so, of course, Sungbin, oldest son, he’s got to step up. He's moving to the big city, girl! Taking up a position at the HQ here. My ulterior motive is me asking you a huge favour.” 

“What’s the favour?” 

“He doesn’t know anyone here, right? Never lived here before. Would you maybe like, take him out for drinks or lunch or something – super casual, no big deal! – just so he’s got a friendly face? Give him some recommendations for stuff, I don’t know, just so he doesn’t feel overwhelmed and on his own?” 

You didn’t really know how to feel about it. Of course, you would. Of course, you would be happy to take Sungbin out, show him around, help him if he needed. You felt flattered that Mei would even ask you, that she thought you would be up to the job. That she thought of you at all, to be honest. Had you not just been thinking that you needed new friends? And now one was landing straight in your lap.  

It all felt a little too good to be true. It was too easy. Things had been too easy recently; this was just too much good, surely? You weren’t used to this. It felt wrong. Made you anxious. And, usually, that anxiety made you make things worse all on your own. But your therapist had told you to stop looking for the bad, to trust the good, appreciate its presence. You could do that. Right? You could do that. 

“Yeah, sure! Of course, I can take him out.” 

Mei dramatically fell to the table in relief and held tight to both your arms. 

“You are an angel! Thank you! Here’s the bad part, though: any chance you can do it tomorrow? I’m leaving in the morning and he’s going to be on his own for the first time since moving-” 

“Oh, he’s already here?” 

“Yeah! That’s why I’m here, girly! I helped him move! Any chance you’re free tomorrow?” 

You didn’t know how to say yes without letting her know that you were the sort of person who had no plans at the weekend but you didn’t want to say no because you were the sort of person who had no plans, and it would be nice to get out of the apartment. You did not look into the fact that she was asking you this last-minute, assuming you would have no plans already. You shrugged. 

“Yeah, I can do drinks or something tomorrow night?” 

“Babe, you are my favourite person in this whole world. I’m going to give you his number; just text him. He doesn’t know anyone here so he literally has nothing better to do and I’ve already told him I’d put you guys in touch.” 

From anyone else, that might have prickled a little; the assumptions might have rubbed you the wrong way, but Mei was relentlessly optimistic, having never had any real hardship in her life (she would admit to this, too), so she had never had any reason to believe that things wouldn’t go the way she expected. Far from wanting to burst her bubble, you wanted to protect her naivety. Because you wished you could have it, too.  

As you walked and subwayed and walked home, you thought about Mei and her life, and your life, and how different things could be. You wondered who you would be if you weren’t so broken, if your head could just have got its shit together—rather, if your head had never gone to shit in the first place. Would you have been like Mei? Would life have found another way to break you? Were things destined or was everyone, including the universe, just making things up as they went along?  

Could you ever be like Mei? Was anyone like her? Did she have secret pain?  

It wasn’t lost on you, the possibility that she wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as she seemed. The shock and surprise of everyone you knew when you ended up in hospital was almost the worst part. If you never heard someone say ‘I had no idea!’ again, it would be too soon. You thought about it a lot, how normal you were (or weren’t). You couldn’t believe that everyone else went through life not thinking the things you thought, that everyone else was somehow just able to get on with things without the sometimes-debilitating urge to sink into the floor forever. 

You shook your head, because you knew you weren’t supposed to be thinking like this. You’d had a really fun time with an old friend and you were going to have a really fun time tomorrow with a new friend. That was all. There was no need to ruin it by overthinking and second-guessing.  

You tapped a finger nervously on the bar as you sat on your stool. You used to come here a lot, or at least semi-frequently, but you hadn’t ventured into this part of the city since you moved out of the apartment you had shared with your ex. He got the apartment, so he got the neighbourhood, too.  

You couldn’t really miss it, not on its own, because your life had changed dramatically after the break-up: you moved somewhere else, lost most of your friends, and stopped going out. This was really the only ‘out’ that you knew. And, crucially, it was close enough to Sungbin to become his neighbourhood, too. So here you were, tapping at the bar, staring at the door, trying not to gulp your drink and be drunk before he even arrived.  

It was bright and hot and humid. It had rained solidly for three days and the water still hung in the air, clung to your skin, even as the sun tried its best to burn it away. You pressed your palm against your cold glass and tried to will yourself cooler without success. You already felt sticky with sweat and you didn’t know if that was entirely down to the weather, or if your nerves were also to blame.  

You knew you didn’t have to be so nervous. What was the worst that could happen? Taehyung had, very patiently, talked you through it: all possible outcomes, all likely scenarios, best- and worst-case situations; he had reminded you that you were an adult human being who knew how to speak to other people. You did. You did know. But it had been a very long time since you had been in this situation. It wasn’t a date. Obviously, it wasn’t a date, but it was the closest you had got to one for many years; you were meeting a man, in a bar, alone. You didn’t know each other; you were hoping he would like you.  

You took another gulp of your drink and repeated Taehyung’s words back to yourself. You reminded yourself of how good things were, ran through your gratitude list, tried to persuade yourself not to psych yourself out before the date (it was not a date! NOT. A. DATE.) had even begun. 

You had turned from the door, realising how awkward it might be for you to have to stare at each other as he walked towards you and were now just glancing over your shoulder every single time you heard the door open. To stop it being awkward. You had done well to pace yourself and it was as you lifted your glass to your lips for another sip that you heard someone call your name. You turned and came face to face with a man you knew could not be Sungbin. 

“Hi,” he said somewhat awkwardly as you continued to drink. “I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Mei’s cousin, Sungbin.” 

You gasped as you drank and it all came out in a choke and a splutter and you were blushing and fumbling to put your glass down, find a napkin, rewind time by ten seconds. The napkin came from his hand and you took your time drying your face and hands to try to will your blushes away. You were so embarrassed you could barely look at him.  

And there was so much of him to look at. This was not tiny, tall drink of water Sungbin from your university days. He was huge. He must have grown at least six inches taller, not to mention wider. His biceps were the size of thighs and his thighs were almost bursting out of his skinny jeans. You didn’t know where to look. 

“You can’t be Sungbin!” you cried. “You’ve got to be the guy that ate him!” 

He laughed and tugged at his hair a little self-consciously. 

“Yeah, I guess I’ve grown a bit.” 

“A bit!  You’re... You’re a hulk!”  

You were off your stool and gripping his bicep before he’d even finished the sentence—your fingertips didn’t even come close to touching. You were gawking, gaping, ogling this poor man without an attempt to hide it. You gestured broadly to his entire body with your other hand and only when you looked back up did you notice the blush on his face, the awkward way he averted his gaze. You stood back and gasped again, this time without choking. 

“I’m so sorry,” you told him. “Oh my god, that was so rude of me. I’m so sorry! What a dickhead! This is a terrible first impression for me to be making!” 

“Technically, not a first impression; we have met before.” He chuckled awkwardly. “And I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory then; I was, uh, a little worse for wear, I think.” 

“A little?! We were worse for wear; you were... the worst for wear! I’m amazed you survived.” 

“The joys of youth. Not sure I’d survive doing it now, just in case you had any ideas.” 

“Mei and I could barely get you home then, there is no way on God’s green earth I’d be able to carry you home by myself now! I wouldn’t risk it.” 

“So, we’re agreed then: both getting home in one piece?” 

You lifted your glass. 

“I’ll drink to that!”  

*  

You moved from one bar to the next, almost retracing steps you used to take in what felt like your former life. Sungbin paid great attention to where you were going and what else was around, cataloguing his new area, making notes for his new life. Your nerves were long gone, as were his, and you were enjoying a night out with a relative stranger as if you were a real person who did things like this: a real person who made new friends, who went out at the weekend, who had a proper life again. You had to pinch yourself to make sure this was all really happening, that this was all really going well. Your problems felt miles away, lightyears. You wondered if this is what it felt like to be normal. Whole. Fixed. You made a mental note to tell your therapist. 

You were on a roof terrace, carpeted with fake grass, decorated with fake flowers. Everything was clean and bright and the sun was still high in the summer sky. It was still a little too warm and a little too sticky, your glasses sweating as well as your bodies, but the lightest of breezes lifted the ends of your hair every now and then, and you couldn’t have imagined a more comfortable feeling than the soft rush of wind across your hot skin. You took seats under a white, wooden pergola where the sunlight was dappled through the fronds twisted along the frame.  

This heat usually enervated you, made you lethargic and sloth-like. That night, though, sitting under fake foliage, you felt solar-powered. There was a summer spring in your step. You felt, dare you believe it, like you were glowing. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. A brand new thing. A better thing. Being here, an old place, with Sungbin, a new friend, could have felt awkward, uncomfortable, like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole—you had expected it to—but no. You felt bigger and brighter, not smaller and duller. You were conscious of the possibility of your old life encroaching on your new one, the possibility of running into someone you used to know, but you decided to push those thoughts away. Compartmentalise them. Ignore them. You didn’t need them.  

Sungbin was talking about his ex. It was an awkward break-up; they’d not been together long enough for her to move to Seoul with him, or for him to even ask her to, but it had been long enough that it felt significant, felt like throwing something away when they ended things. But he was young and he wasn’t worried. You didn’t say it out loud but you thought to yourself that a man like him surely would never have to worry: looking like he did, having the position he had, being a sweet, polite kind of guy; women would be queueing up for even a chance with him.  

“I don’t really miss her that much, because there’s so much going on here that I haven’t really even had the time to. That, if nothing else, tells me it was the right decision for us.” 

The words reached your ears but didn’t go in. You could feel your heart pounding hard in your chest and sweat begin to prick in your palms. Your eyes had flicked over the crowd in front of you, people walking in and out, to and from the bar, looking for tables, looking for friends. They had skimmed over the faces of strangers until they hit upon someone familiar. The face had immediately disappeared back into the crowd, but you were sure it was him. It had to be. Why else would your whole body have gone into panic mode? Why else would your legs be like jelly? Why else would your fingers feel numb? A quiet ringing grew louder in your ears and you kept looking for him again, waiting for that dark head above a white shirt to break through the crowd again. You had to be sure it was him. 

“Are you ok?” 

You wanted to stand. You had to stand and get a better view. You wished it weren’t so busy. Why did it have to be a Saturday night? Why were all these people out?  

“Are you ok?” 

A touch on your arm drew you back and your head span to Sungbin. He looked confused, concerned. 

“I think I saw my ex,” you told him, your voice hoarse.  

“Ah. A bad break-up?” 

Your eyes had already gone back to the crowd, scanning and searching.  

FUCK. 

It was him. It really was him. It had to be. It couldn’t be.  

“Yeah, no, I don’t know,” you answered vaguely. 

You were still staring at him and then his eyes flicked to yours and you flinched so hard you almost knocked over your glass. You turned away, turned back; he looked as surprised as you were. He looked unsure. He looked like he was walking over to you. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” you said under your breath, looking at the table, trying to work out how on earth you were going to handle this. You wondered, if you thought hard enough, if you would be able to make yourself disappear. You wondered if you could just run: leg it out of the bar as fast as you could and not look back. You felt dizzy. You felt sick. You felt... drunk. Too drunk. Of all the places and all the times you might have imagined seeing him again, this wasn’t one. This would probably be the very last place you’d have chosen to run into him.  

Sungbin’s hand was back on your arm, less tentative now. He scooted his chair closer to yours. His hand slid down your wrist and he tangled his fingers in yours. You could only look at him; you didn’t have the mental capacity to even form the question in your mind. 

“Don’t worry,” came his reply. “I got you.”  

Then he winked.  

“Hi.” 

You looked up and there he was. San. Just as he always had been. Maybe his hair was a little shorter, you could kid yourself there was an extra line or two on his face. But it was him, no denying. 

“Hi,” you squeaked back. 

You were trying to think of all the things you wanted to say to him, trying to think of all the things you could say to him, that would be appropriate to say to him here, in this bar, whilst holding the hand of another man. 

“Hi, I’m Sungbin.”  

He was confident. He stuck out his free hand and gave San a generous smile. 

“Oh, uh, San.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you, too.” San turned his face back to you. “How have you been?” 

You looked at Sungbin for help: this relative stranger, this potential new friend pretending to be your new boyfriend in front of your old boyfriend, this man who seemed to have much better control of this situation than you did. You could barely think at all. It was a desperate ringing, alarm bells, sirens wailing, a maelstrom of panic. Sungbin smiled at you. You had no idea how long you looked at him before answering, had no sense of time anymore. 

“Yeah, fine,” you said, eventually tearing your gaze from Sungbin to stare into San and the sun behind him. Sungbin gave your hand a squeeze. “Good, actually. You?” 

“Yeah, same old same old, you know how things are. Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“Oh, that’s my fault.” Sungbin stepping in to save you again. “I live in the area so I’m always dragging her over this way.”  

You stammered for a second, trying to take in San’s surprise and Sungbin’s sweet, encouraging smile. 

“Y-yeah, he does,” you confirmed. “I don’t- I don’t mind, though, really.” 

“Mm, you always liked this bar. I remember.”  

“Yeah.” 

You noticed the way San’s eyes flicked to your hands, clasped together on the table, not just once but again and again. You wished you could peer inside his head, know what he was thinking.  

You were hardly thinking at all. Your brain was trying so hard to be quick that it had overloaded itself, stalled, got stuck. You couldn’t get over the fact of him, there, in front of you. It had been months. Seasons had changed since you saw him last. You had changed. Could he see that? Did you want him to? Did you want him to miss you? Did you want him to be bothered by Sungbin—gentle giant, Sungbin, holding your hand so casually, talking about you as if you really were together? You tried not to imagine what San was doing there, who he was with. You didn’t know if you would care. You wouldn’t be surprised to learn he was dating. He was a catch, you knew that.  

There were too many things happening at once, too many things to process. You felt like you were spinning out of control. What if San knew Sungbin wasn’t your boyfriend? What if he knew this was all pretend? What if he asked more about it? What if everything unravelled before your very eyes and the ground didn’t show mercy and swallow you whole? 

“Are you still living around here?” San asked you. “I would’ve expected to see you around more.” 

“Oh, uh, no. I’m over the river. I just-…"  

You couldn’t commit yourself to the lie, had to let yourself trail off just looking at Sungbin, desperate for a sign you were doing ok, you were playing this the right way. He grinned at you. 

“Like I said, my fault.”  

He shrugged with a light chuckle and San faintly followed suit, mouth moving but no sound actually coming out. 

“Right, well,” he began in the tell-tale way that said he was backing out of this conversation. “I’d better get back to my table. It was uh, nice meeting you, Sungbin. Good to see you, too-” his eyes rested on you, needled into you like he was searching for something specific in your face. “I’m glad you’re doing well.” 

“Yeah, me too. I mean, me for you, you know what I mean.” 

A genuine smile. And a nod. Then he was retreating back into the sea of people, disappearing and leaving no trace. No trace but the hammering of your heart. No trace but the sweat pooling in your palms and sticking your dress to your back. No trace but the sudden exhaustion of the relief you felt being out of his presence. Sungbin squeezed your hand again. 

“Bad break-up?” 

You rested your forehead on the fingers of your free hand and shook your head. 

“It was for me. It was the right decision but yeah, it was bad for me. I haven’t... I haven’t seen him since I moved the last of my shit out from our apartment – what used to be our apartment.” 

Sungbin nodded knowingly and placed his hand on top of yours just for a second. Then he let you go completely. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I realise I didn’t really give you a chance to disagree; I’m sorry about that. I-” 

You shook your head and waved your hand.  

“It’s absolutely fine,” you reassured him. “It was good, actually.”  

You were deeply grateful for his quick-thinking, presumptuous though it may have been. You wanted to splash your face with cold water, give yourself a shock, try to bring yourself back into the room. You didn’t want to look like you were still completely hung up on your ex; you didn’t want to look like a mess; you just needed a second to take a breath. 

“That was... not expected,” you went on, more for your benefit than for his. “I have thought so many times about what I would say and what I would do if I saw him again but I guess I never really believed it would happen and then suddenly, he was fucking right in front of me and I just felt like dying!” 

Sungbin laughed, as you knew he would, because it was a joke. It was a joke. But you didn’t not feel like dying for at least a second there.  

“When did you break up?” 

“Oh, months ago now. Kind of feels like I should be over it, I guess. I mean, I am, really. I just-...” 

“You were caught off-guard. I get it; it’s rough seeing them again.”  

It was rough. And you believed that he did get it. And he smiled at you so sincerely that you could have cried. It surprised you, that people could be nice to you; that people could like you, even; that people could see you and still smile at you. You looked at each other a little longer, Sungbin’s quiet calm radiating through you, your heartrate slowing and your spinning head coming to a stop. 

“Thank you,” you said as you picked up your glass to take a sip to cover awkwardness that only you felt. “That was quick thinking and um, yeah, I think it helped. You didn’t have to do that.” 

Sungbin shrugged.  

“You’re doing me a big favour tonight; it was the least I could do. Happy to be your fake boyfriend whenever you need!”  

He laughed and then you laughed and it felt good. You drained the last of your drink and Sungbin suggested you go somewhere else for your next one. You agreed. You didn’t look for San on your way out, just kept your eyes on Sungbin’s back as he led you, your hand in his (just in case), back through the bar and out onto the street. 

* 

“You don’t have to literally walk me to my door,” Sungbin said as you stepped into the lift with him. “I maintain that it should be me walking you home.” 

You shrugged. 

“That argument might hold water if you had even half a clue of how to get to my apartment. But you don’t. Besides, I was taking you out tonight; it only follows that I walk you back, too. Why break tradition?” 

Sungbin bit back a grin. 

“How long before I live that down?” 

“Oh, at least five more years.” 

“Well, if you’re going to make me suffer that, don’t you think we should do this correctly? Now, how did it go again?” 

He moved behind you and draped himself over your shoulders, slowly leaning his weight onto you. You cried out and could do nothing but collapse underneath him. 

“NO! I couldn’t carry you then; now you’re just trying to kill me!” 

You knelt on the floor of the lift with your hands outstretched above you, as if they would in any way hold him off. He straightened and pulled you up by them. 

“Fine,” he conceded as he stepped out at his floor. “But next time, you’re going to have to let me walk you home. Deal?” 

You shrugged. You nodded. You didn’t take that as a promise.  

“About your ex,” Sungbin started, standing in front of his door. 

“Yeah?” 

“Where exactly are you at with that?” 

That had you on the backfoot. You didn’t know how to answer the question for yourself, let alone for him. Your first thought was that you probably would have to ask your therapist; did she think you were over it? Would she think you had closure? You blinked and opened your mouth as if somehow an answer would fall out of it without your having to compile it first.  

“I just mean,” he continued, “are you dating? Would it be alright if I asked you out?” 

“Oh, uh, I-”  

Would it be alright? Wouldn’t it be? You had told yourself you were off dating. You weren’t ready for it; you had been emphatic when you’d said as much to Yoongi only a few weeks ago. Was that still true? You had spent so much time that day reminding yourself that this wasn’t a date, but... what if it had been? San aside, it had gone well, hadn’t it? You had had fun; Sungbin seemed like he had, too. He was the one who pretended to be your boyfriend first. Maybe... Maybe it would be ok? Maybe you were ready? There was only one way to really find out.  

“Yeah, I guess that would be fine.” 

He smiled. 

“Good. I’ll do that then.”  

He took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your knuckles; everything inside you fluttered. Then he winked and dropped your hand to enter his door code. 

“Text me when you get home safe, yeah?”  

You nodded, mute. He smiled at you again. 

“It was really nice to see you again.” And when he said your name, it sounded new.  

You didn’t leave immediately. Couldn’t. You stood outside his apartment, in shock, processing, looking at his closed front door, to the left, to the right, looking for an answer to what just happened. Sungbin did not just ask you out. But he did say he would. He was going to ask you out.  

And you had already kind of said yes.  

To a date. 

You fumbled in your bag for your phone and had it to your ear before you realised you absolutely had to leave, lest Sungbin hear you speaking. You scuttled back down the hallway and into the lift while Taehyung’s phone rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail. You hung up and tried again. And then again. And then you sent him a text. 

You: TEDDY!!! PICK UPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

You tried calling for a fourth time and for a fourth time, you heard the automated voice of his voicemail service.  

You threw your phone back into your bag, defeated, but jittery with nerves and adrenaline. You could barely remember how this felt. In fact, with San you had seen it coming. You had engineered it. You had been flirting for weeks; you practically demanded he ask you out. Then he did. This had come out of the blue. Blindsided you. For the second time that evening. You were so shocked by Sungbin’s question that you had, momentarily, forgotten about running into San.  

What a fucking night. One that you had almost no idea how or where to start processing. Everything was-… you threw your hands in the air, by yourself, in the lift, shaking your head, completely bewildered. Taehyung was your go-to person for this. He was your sounding board. You picked up your phone to call him just one more time.  

* 

Your phone rang as you were changing into your pyjamas and you picked it up with your vest only half pulled down over your chest. 

“Teddy! Finally!” 

“Are you dying?” 

“No.” 

“Are you hurt or injured or maimed in any way?” 

“No.” 

“Then stop calling!” 

“Hey! I need to talk to you!” 

“Well, it’s going to have to wait, princess; I’m busy.” 

“Not even for five minutes?” 

“No.” 

“But I saw San!” 

There was a pause as Taehyung digested the information. 

“Are you ok?” he asked simply. 

“Yeah.” 

“Then it’s going to have to wait until tomorrow.” 

You heard a rustling in the background, another voice. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, turning your voice down to a loud stage whisper. “Are you with someone?” 

“... Yes.” 

“OH MY GOD! Oh my god, please tell me it’s the barista. Is it the barista? It is, right?!” 

“... Yes.” 

You squealed and fell onto your sofa to kick your feet in the air. 

“WE HAVE SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT!” you screamed down the phone. 

“Yes, but tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, fine, tomorrow. Oh my god. I am SO excited, Teddybear.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll talk to you later. I’m going now.” 

“Bye, Teddy!” 

“Good night, babe; love you.” 

“Love you!” 

It was entirely possible that you weren’t going to be able to sleep at all now.  

You squealed as you opened your door and let Taehyung into your apartment. He handed over an ice-cold, sweating cup of coffee and flopped onto your sofa.  

“Tell me literally everything,” you demanded. 

He merely shrugged. 

“Don’t be fucking coy, you piece of shit! I want to know everything! It’s THE BARISTA.” 

The barista worked at a coffee shop not far from Taehyung’s apartment. The barista was a fine, delicate-boned, ethereal beauty, probably the prettiest person you had ever seen in real life. Even Taehyung—unflappable, cool, calm and collected Taehyung—had been flustered the first time the barista had flashed him his pearly whites. And, last night, something had finally happened between them.  

“There’s really not that much to tell,” Taehyung countered. “I asked him out and he said yes.” 

You hit him hard with a cushion. 

“I said I want to know everything! And you can’t just say it like it was that simple; you’ve been daydreaming about that guy for months!” 

“Firstly, I was sussing out his situation. I understand tact and diplomacy and how to not say every stupid thing that’s in my head at any given moment-” 

“Uncalled for, but go on.” 

“-So I had to bide my time.-” 

“Also, you’re a massive chicken and he made you go knock-kneed and goo-goo-eyed.” 

“-Do you want me to tell you what happened? Or would you prefer to just make up your own version?” 

You cackled. 

“You know I’d love to make up my own story, but no, sorry, I’ll stop interrup-” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, babygir-” 

“Ok, now who’s interrupting?!” 

“I’m the one trying to tell you a story!” 

“Ok! Ok! Fine, spin your yarn and give me the entire confection, please.” 

* 

“I’m seeing him again tonight. Truth be told, I’d be with him right now if someone hadn’t already laid claim to my time.” 

“Teddy!”  

You felt bad for tearing him away from his One True Love, you did. But he’d already seen his success with the barista (Hyunjin to those in the know) and could go running right back to him as soon as he was done here. All you had was a too-warm apartment to stew in until whatever hour or day Sungbin would choose to actually, officially do the asking.  

“Come on, then,” Taehyung said, with a shrug, and nudged you with his foot. “How the fuck did you see San again?” 

Shit, that too.  

“Right, well, you know I was out with Sungbin last night—and, by the way, do NOT let me forget to show you his instagram. Oh my god. There are no words. And there’s also something else I need to tell you about him after this. But, yes, San, ok.” 

It felt like trying to describe a blur. You still didn’t know how you felt about it. The whole night felt surreal to you now, like a dream. It was frustrating to have met him but not really met him, to have seen him and not been able to talk. Everything that you had been working through—trying to work through—felt bundled up inside you and you wanted him to know. You didn’t need him to think you were dating again, you didn’t need to ‘win’; you needed him to know that you understood. That maybe there would always be some kind of thing between you—history, old intimacies like ink stains in your skin—but it didn’t mean that that past would hold you back forever. You wanted him to see that you understood that. 

But you came to those conclusions this morning, after a deep sleep, after another man had made implicit promises to ask you out. And, once he’d actually asked you, would anything you had to say to San matter anymore? Did it really matter now?  

“I don’t know how I feel about it because... I had this blind panic, y’know? But I don’t know why I panicked because San is a good person and I understand why he broke up with me and I don’t blame him for that and there really shouldn’t have been any reason for it to be awkward, right?” 

“I mean, another man pretending to be your boyfriend might make it a little awkward.” 

“Maybe... But that’s not Sungbin’s fault; he was trying to help. I thought I’d be cool seeing him again, because I’ve thought so much about things I want to say to him or would say if I could, but when he was actually in front of me, it was like I couldn’t think at all. I don’t know what that means.” 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. You were surprised.” 

“Yeah, but shouldn’t I be over him? Should he have that effect on me even now?” 

“I don’t think ‘should’ is a helpful word here, sugarplum. There is no should or shouldn’t about feelings; isn’t that therapy 101?” 

“I just don’t know... I guess I thought that seeing him again would make everything crystal clear, written in stone. Sure. But... Well—ok, the other thing is that Sungbin kind of asked me out.” 

“On a date?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What did you say?” 

“Well, he asked me if it would be alright if he asked me out. And I said yes. So he said he would. But he hasn’t actually asked me yet.” 

“And you want to know if you should go out with him or not?” 

“I guess?”  

You shrugged. You wanted to go out with Sungbin. You knew you wanted to because you could picture his smiling face and bulging biceps and you saw clearly, outside of the moment, how quickly and easily he stepped in to support you, no questions asked and no favours owed. He wanted to date you. You knew you wanted to date him. But- 

“I don’t want it to be a mistake,” you said.  

“That’s natural. No one likes making mistakes.” 

“No, I mean, I don’t want it to be a mistake for Sungbin.” 

“Why would it be?” 

You looked at him, trying to say, without saying, what you meant. Because it had been for San—you had been. He was better off without you and maybe Sungbin would be, too. He was young and rich and free; he had just moved to the biggest city in the country; he had the world at his feet. Were you really going to let him limit himself, stop himself at your door?  

Taehyung looked cross for a moment, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn, then he took a sip of his coffee (mostly iced water at this point) and, when he turned back to you, his gaze was softer.  

“Baby,” he cooed and he held his arms out to you. Despite the heat in your poorly air-conditioned apartment, you climbed into his lap and let him stroke your hair. “There’s only one way to know for sure if something’s a mistake and that’s to do it. Sungbin clearly wants to. If you also want to, then you’re just going to have to dive in. The water’s great.” 

You nodded and let him hold you, so grateful to him and all his tact and diplomacy and gentleness. He wasn’t always—or often—gentle with you, because usually that’s not what you needed and he knew it. Just like he knew that today, that was what you needed. 

“I do have one question, though,” he said and his hesitance made your stomach drop. 

“Ok.” 

“Where does Yoongi fit in with all of this?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I don’t know; I thought you guys were-” 

“-Friends! Just friends! Have I not said it a million times?! We’re just friends! We’ve always just been friends!” 

“But you did have sex-” 

“ONE TIME!” 

You pushed away from him to better display your indignation and displeasure. Taehyung had a bee in his bonnet about Yoongi—had done since you’d first mentioned him—even though he didn’t know the guy, didn’t know anything. 

“Ok, ok!” He held his hands up in defeat. “I just sort of figured you guys were heading in that direction.” 

“Why?” 

“You seem to like him a lot.” 

“I do. Because we’re friends. I like you a lot, too, and we’re not going to shack up.” 

“Yes, love, but I’m gay and you are not a man.” 

You pushed him. 

“You know what I mean!” 

“I take your point. If you want to date Sungbin and feel good about it, then you have my blessing-” 

“I don’t need your blessing, Teddy; I can do what I like!” 

He fixed his eyes on you and simply waited you out. 

“Ok, fine!” you cried, exasperated, after probably not more than five seconds. “Thank you, yes, I did want your approval.” 

“And you have it, my sweet. As long as you’re happy and not being a complete idiot, I’m on board.” 

“I mean... Thanks, I guess?” 

"Don’t mention it.” 

“Babe!” you cried as soon as Yoongi step foot inside the classroom the following Thursday. You beckoned him closer, telling him to hurry, and grabbed him by the arm as soon as he was within reach. “I have so much to tell you.” 

He looked surprised, blinked, and then shrugged with a slight nod of his head. You didn’t pause for thought as you unloaded both your bags and your gossip onto the counter. You were sieving flour as you told him about your dinner with Mei; beating eggs into the mixture when you told him about drinks with Sungbin; and watching Yoongi almost drop the entire thing as he placed it in the oven when you mentioned San. 

“What was that like?” he asked with genuine, but guarded, curiosity.  

“A blur. Kind of a panicked mess but also fine. I sort of want a do-over but mostly for my pride, y’know? It was bumping into an ex, not actually meeting up with them so I think that made it better. But also worse because I had no time to prepare but there was also no opportunity to get into the difficult stuff which meant we didn’t have to get into it.” 

“Do you still want to do that? Talk to him?” 

“There’s a lot I want to say to him, but they are things I want to say more than things I think he would need or want to hear. If we met, it would be for my benefit and I don’t know if he deserves to be pulled in for that. Do you know what I mean?” 

He looked thoughtful for a moment and nodded.  

“And that was before Sungbin asked me out, too, so maybe I would be saying something different if that hadn’t happened.” 

“He asked you out?” 

Yoongi was turning towards his counter, looking at his sugar in his pan, turning on the hob, his head inclined just slightly towards you to indicate that he was listening. He needlessly pushed a hand through his hair which, far from tucking it behind his ear, made it fall in front of his face. You were, likewise, distracted by your sugar syrup and altogether too excited to take note of much else. 

“Yes!” you cried in answer. “So, on the Saturday he asked if he could and, obviously, I said yes. Then it took him until Wednesday to actually do the damn thing, but yes, he asked me out and I said yes and we’re going out tomorrow for our first actual date.” 

“Wow.” 

“I know, right? I had no idea it was coming—the bit where he asked if he could ask me out, I mean. We ran into my ex at drinks! And he asked me out?! And I was... I was discombobulated, you might say; I stood at his door for five minutes just in shock at what had happened. I was in disbelief. Especially because I wasn’t expecting it! At all. I mean, I was just doing Mei a favour! I didn’t think anything of it and now I can’t stop thinking about it! Or, well, him. I had forgotten how exciting this part is? It’s terrifying, yeah, completely horrifying, really, but I also just feel like I’m alive, y’know?” 

You paused briefly, glancing at the oven timer and stirring your syrup.  

“I just...” you started and then stopped, staring off into space to let the thought coalesce in your brain. “It’s so crazy that you can think one thing and then someone comes into your life and, suddenly, everything is so different. All it takes is one person to—ok, this is dramatic but you know me now so you’re going to have to let me be—change your whole life. A chance encounter? And suddenly I’m not the world’s loneliest, bitterest, most miserable single person alive? Suddenly, I have something to be excited about? To look forward to? I’m getting ahead of myself, I know I am, but I’m allowing it. I’m allowed to indulge in this because it’s been so long. I’ve been miserable for ages now. And I’m finally not. Don’t get me wrong when I say this, because therapy works, or at least it helps, it really does, but man, having a crush on someone is fucking electric, right? Years of counselling and it turns out nothing makes you feel the joy of being alive like when you really fucking like someone.” 

Yoongi hummed. 

Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Fortuna Major Chapter 4

Summary:  Steve Rogers came home from World War II shell shocked and overwhelmed by the place he once called home.  After losing his mother he and his injured best friend Bucky decide to find a quieter, slower way of life to heal from the war.  They head out west until they hit Fortuna, California, and get jobs in the lumber industry.  Steve comes across a local lodging for miners and lumber workers, and falls head over heels for the female owner who takes no man’s shit.  

Warnings: mentions of war; injuries, loss of limb; PTSD; talk of suicide; cat calling; sexual harassment; attempted sexual assault; eventual smut

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Y/N slowly seemed to come back to herself after that day with Steve in the clearing.  She became much more talkative with Bucky, staying to work with him throughout the day rather than disappearing.  Her friendliness with the men as they came home from work for dinner was coming back, her smile getting bigger by the day.  Steve had noticed that she more frequently wore a high necked undershirt than she had before.  Although the Autumn season was setting in, he still wondered at the sudden change.  He accompanied her a few more times to the clearing, where they would normally just sit and talk about anything and everything, while other times they’d sit silently or Y/N would read while Steve sketched as they sat next to each other on a blanket under one of the trees.  He’d created his own friendship with Y/N outside of Bucky, and kept it as just that, a friendship, but he couldn’t seem to help the deep feelings he was growing toward her.  He also had an intrinsic fear that maybe Bucky liked her, too, with how much he enjoyed being around her.  Steve thought he’d caught Bucky looking at her in a way he used to look at the girls he’d flirt shamelessly with before the war, and it made him stop himself from ever trying to do more with Y/N.

Steve walked into the kitchen one day after dinner to help with the clean up when he saw Y/N sat on the counter with Bucky standing across from her, leaning against the island counter.  They were laughing, sharing some of the leftover cookies that had been prepared that day.  Y/N leaned forward across the space between them and swiped some crumbs from Bucky’s beard, and Steve immediately turned back around and walked back towards his room.  He couldn’t see it.  He felt embarrassed, ashamed, guilty, and it all just made him the more angry.  Y/N wasn’t his girl, he had no right or claim to her in any way.  And Bucky is a good man.  She’d be lucky to have him, and he’d be lucky to have her, but the thought of them together made a part of his heart feel like it was being stabbed.  Steve had been small his whole life up until a few years ago where he’d gone through a crazy growth spurt, and Bucky had always outshone him, especially when it came to girls.  He tugged at his hair as he sat on his bed, rubbing down his face harshly.  How pathetic.

Bucky walked into the room about thirty minutes later.  “Hey punk,” he greeted him.

Steve looked up from his sketchbook and gave Bucky a tight smile.  “Hey jerk,” he replied.  “Dinner was good tonight.”

“Good,” Bucky sighed, plopping down on his bed heavily, lying back.  

“Those cookies were a nice addition,” Steve continued, watching for Bucky’s reaction.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, his hand scratching his stomach lightly, his eyes closing.  “Those were all Y/N.  She’s a good baker, though she doesn’t think so,” he huffed a laugh.

“You two work well together,” Steve remarked, looking back down to the sketchbook.

Bucky’s brow furrowed and he looked over at Steve.  “What?”

“What?” Steve repeated, looking at him again.

“What do you mean, ‘we work well together’?” Bucky asked, looking confused.

“Well, just…you know,” Steve shrugged, looking away again.  “You seem good together.”

Bucky’s face brightened up as he laughed, his hand moving up to rub his face.  “God, Steve, you’re so oblivious,” he snorted.

“What?” Steve asked, feeling put out.  

“I can tell you like her, you idiot,” Bucky smiled at him.  “And as much as I do like her, I’m not interested in dating her.”

“Why not?” Steve asked, genuinely interested.

Bucky sat back up and faced him.  “Look,” he started, sighing heavily.  “Maybe before the war, before all this,” he gestured to his lack of a left arm, “I might have tried dating her.  She’s pretty, smart, funny, and caring.”  Steve nodded along.  “But I just…don’t see her as more than a good friend, and my boss,” he smirked.  “I’m sure she just sees me as a friend, like her brother in some ways.  But judging by the way she looks at you, and how she smiles whenever you enter the room, I’d bet my bottom dollar she likes you.”

Steve blushed and bit back a shit-eating-grin.  “Well, I don’t know about that,” he said bashfully.

Bucky laughed again.  “Aw, blushing Stevie,” he said, grabbing his pillow and swiping at Steve with it, Steve quickly dodging it and laughing with him.  “Just talk to her, jerk.”

@slayerofthevampire

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

Let's talk about Conflict Names.

If you've scrolled the Warriors Wiki, you've probably seen this message at least once.

And in a universe FULL of name combinations and new prefixes and suffixes being added all the time, it's... Odd. How do names like Robinwing and Seedpelt get used so many times? Why are there 2 Nightstar's now? WHY ARE THERE 3 BIRCHSTARS AND 3 DARKSTARS?

Well, I think it would be nice to change that. In-Universe, all apprentices still go to the Moonstone/Moonpool to foster a connection with Starclan. Starclan will show the leader who goes with them all the name "slots" of the cats who have come before.

Sometimes, in an extremely rare circumstance, there have been multiple cats with the same name (this is more... easter egg for wcr/comedic effect; but lore-wise, Starclan will often not provide the names of Dark Forest cats in an attempt to "erase" them), but it can never be a leader. There cannot be 2 Firestar's, ever. A Star cannot lead if it is being outshone by another.

Where the fun lies, is that sometimes, a leader will give up their leader name in Starclan, freeing up that slot. Heatherstar gave up hers to go back to being Heatherstep, as she did not enjoy being leader. Heatherstar would now be a valid name again. Also, the ancient 2 word names (Sky Petal, Cloud Spots, Blue Whisker, Briar Bloom) do not take up slots. Post-mortem names, such as Swiftpaw being named Swiftclaw, or Mapleshade's kits, also do not take up slots.

During Tigerheart's Light, Starclan ran into a bit of a pickle. Tigerheart was going to become Leader, but there has been a Tigerstar in history who did not give up his name when he went to the Dark Forest. But... His spirit had faded away! But... The memory of him hasn't...

When they asked Tigerheart "Do you wish to be Tigerstar?" What Tigerheart WANTED to say was:

"Sure. It sounds like a good name. Though I have some bad memories with it too, and my relationship with my mother is really strained now because of it, I'm also not sure of the Clans will like having another Tigerstar around. Maybe it's not such a good idea."

All he managed to get out was "Sure. It sounds like a good name-" before Starclan slapped the title onto him without a second thought.

With that MAJOR issue out of the way, let's get to the renaming of cats! Note: Renames are not done on basis of who came first, but which one I like better for the cat. I think Frecklewish fits the Thunderclan cat more than the Skyclan one.

Note: This post is not complete and was only posted due to the Tumblr app being trash. I will repeatedly reblog this with more names added. Thank you.

Thunderclan

Rabbitleap (TC) is now named Rabbitsong

Beechfur (TC) is now named Beechtuft.

Seedpelt (Mapleshade's Vengeance) has now been somewhat fused with Seedpelt (Pinestar's Choice). Now a molly whose fur is streaked gray with age, and her name is Seedwhisker.

Seedpelt (Pinestar's Choice) has been partially fused, as seen above, but the leftover cat (ew) has been named Dragonflypelt.

Seedpelt (FQ) is THE Seedpelt. Seedpaw is almost named Seedpelt as well (that's that little joke I mentioned, but also a sign that Bramblestar's got NO idea what he's doing)

Owlstar (SoTC) and Owlstar (CoTC) have been fused, the way they should have been.

Shadowclan

Cloudberry (TC) is now Splashberry.

Larksong (BP) is now named Larkmoon, Larksong (Avos) remains unchanged.

Applefur (TF) is now named Applefang.

Ashfur (ShC) is now given the very simple Honor Title Ashclaw by Nightstar, and comes out of retirement.

Marshscar now becomes Marshstar to avoid a future Conflict Name with Marshkit, who will become Marshscar.

Mudclaw (ShC) is now named Mudstep.

Buster, who used to be Rippletail, is now named... Well he still becomes Buster, but BEFORE that he's named Droptail. Pun.

Hollystar has been renamed Birdstar, Jagged Peak and Rainswept Flower's daughter.

Riverclan

Shadepelt (AVoS) is now named Shadenose, and is the sister of Foxnose and an OC, Bumblenose.

Mintfur (RC) is now Mintwhisker, named after Mintclaw (Silverpaw TPB) a Rebel who was killed fighting against Tigerclan alongside his mothers Waterfern and Tangleburr.

Silverpaw (BOTC) is now in Windclan, as they need more padding, and OOTS Riverclan has enough apprentices. Their name is now Streampaw, and they become Streamsong. They are the offspring of Rustlewish, who adopted them from Riverclan, hence the name.

Applefrost and Appleshine actually had their names swapped. Appleshine is now the daughter of Appledusk and Reedshine. Applefrost is now Breezpelt and Heathertail's daughter.

Nightstar (RC) now never becomes leader, as Riverstar outlives her during Riverstar's Life towards the end. She and Nightheart (Ro) are now the same cat. She was inspired by a strange cat named Nightheart and made her name Night Heart.

Milkfur (YS) is now named Milkpatch, both after her mother and the slowly growing white patches in her fur. Her brother is named Troutfin (the name she was mistakenly given in the preview for Yellowfang's Secret) and he gave Hailstar a life!

Windclan

Thrushpelt (WC) is now not only a girl, but this lady WAS named Thrushpelt and earned the title Thrushleaf for her handling of the epidemic caused by sick rabbits.

Gorsetail (TNP) is now named Eveningtail.

Wrenflight (WC) does start out as Wrenflight, but after her actions supporting The Rebels against Tigerstar, helping Tangleburr and Waterfern free prisoners at risk of her own life, Tallstar renamed her Wrensky, freeing up the Wrenflight slot for the Skyclan one.

Birchstar (WC) is now Warblerstar, she is an ancestor to Onestar through his grandfather, Woollytail.

Skyclan

Frecklewish (SkC) is now named Freckleshine.

Birchstar (SkC) is still Birchstar, but stepped down at his death, going back to being just Birch, the same one in DOTC. The second leader of Skyclan. Birchstar (RC) is now the definitive Birchstar.

Rainfur (SkC) is now Rainyfur, his old name having been Rainy, because "oh it's just a coincidence his name was exactly the same as a Clan name" is a pathetic cop-out.

Robinwing (SkC) is now Robintail, after her short, fluffy tail.

Unknown Clan

Emberdawn (TBC) is still Emberdawn... Because no one remembers her, and Starclan doesn't care much about names that aren't attached to it, meaning that TECHNICALLY, there could be another Houndleap, Emberdawn is not in the Dark Forest, but she is also not in Starclan. Her horror story will be revealed eventually, still working on the finer details.

[letsgetrowdy43]

Evangeline in the eyes of Nico—

Au Masterlist!!

Falling in love with Angie was all-consuming, it was never a gradual thing, it was all or nothing for Nico.

It surely had been messy, but she taught him patience, showing him that all good things are worth fighting for

Angie had one of the purest hearts Nico had ever had the pleasure of holding, his rough, calloused hands gently held the most delicate piece of herself that she let very few near.

She trusted her heart in his hands, and he did everything in his power to take care of it.

It hadn't always been easy, with love came struggles, it was followed by doubts and whispers of ruin. But loving Angie was one of the most worthwhile risks the captain had taken

There is something so different about Angie to Nico, she was always so sure of herself, so sure of the fact that she earned the very best. She was humble, but she also knew that this job and her position meant that she had to speak up and gain the privilege that many men in her shoes had already acquired.

She knew her worth and she never faltered to make her voice known in a room.

She took pride in her accomplishments, she was a talent and a staple in the league in just over a year. Nico had never met a person so deserving of all the good they had earned in their life.

Her work ethic had his mind blown, her drive to better understand the world and the industry they found themselves in was unmatched by anyone who came before her.

She had this opportunity in her hands, and she was proving herself more worthy everyday

She was like a puppet master, pulling strings and making the hearts of hockey fans across the globe fall in love with her.

Loving her was so easy, she was a pillar of personality, so easygoing, so trusting of him, she had let him in and he was going to prove his worth to her.

He couldn't fathom how pretty she was either, so confident and comfortable in her sexuality and life. She was no sex symbol that he'd previously chased, she was a perfect contrast of quiet and bold, with the most perfect smile that graced her face.

Above all Angie taught Nico about her strength, she showed it on and off the ice, through her plays, but also through the scrutiny she faced with the media. Nico saw every bump in the road, every falter of her demeanour, and yet her strength and her determination to prove herself always outshone every smear tabloid that dared question her person.

Angie to Nico was the picture of beauty and power, she flew above it all with grace and always found a way to outdo herself, and he was so deeply in love with this woman.

[milflewis]

Please do more of the Yukierre fake dating AU, I'm quite invested now. (I am from that "they're looking at us" one)

prev fic.

They come out at pretty much the same time. It wasn’t planned.

Or, well, Yuki’s wasn’t planned. Pierre’s was — months upon months of Pierre talking to Lewis over the phone, early in the morning, sun just peeking over the tops of buildings, having seen the way his smile lived in the lines on his face in between drivers briefings and race weekends, the rainbow flag on his helmet then saying to the world something more than allyship; weeks and weeks of video chats with Sebastian, who never had all the answers, whose career both with and not with Redbull was so completely different from Pierre’s but whose advice was hoarded all the same.

Pierre had told all his family; not one by one individually but group by group. Not that he wasn’t straight, not that he was bisexual, but that he was coming out as not straight, coming out as bisexual.

He had let Alpine know a working week — five business days — before he announced it. “Give them time to react, to prepare, to strategise pr amongst themselves,” Lewis had said, eyes kind. “But not enough for them to really worry, not enough for them to do anything.”

The paddock had exploded, the media having a field day.

When Lewis had come out two years earlier, six months before he retired, the racing world cracked wide open. For all that there had been speculation over the years, a lot of it slimy and disingenious, based on his clothes and his proud support of anyone other and the gentle way he moved through the paddock, sparkling from ears to nose to fingers, it had still come as a surprise to many.

Most of the drivers had stood by him — or at the very least, not stood against him. Fernando’s reaction had made Pierre stop, unsure on how he thought he’d respond but knowing that he wouldn’t have guessed this.

Lewis had only laughed when being faced with the clip of Fernando giving out; his first race win in over a decade outshone by Lewis’s announcement, “Stop asking me about Lewis and penises. Who cares. I won, he lost, did you not see me win?”

Pierre is sure that it wasn't a coincidence that Sebastian turned up at the race following Lewis's coming out.

His coming out video had 4, 452, 981 more views than his retirement announcement. Both broke the internet; Formula One once again seeping into mainstream media.

A handful more drivers stood with Pierre when he eventually came out, a perfectly planned instagram post with a caption that had been edited and edited and edited.

The buzz of it all was finally dying down - Pierre being asked more racing questions than not - when Yuki, exhilarated and giddy and pink-cheeked, sweat damp under his eyes, straight from his second race win with Mercedes, said, unthinking to an inane fluff question about the dating, "Hmm? Yes. I was seeing someone, very casual, but no longer. He couldn't keep up with all the flights and countries! I understood him."

Yuki had even laughed after, moving away quickly to join Ted, eager to talk about the race, his pr attaché left pale behind him.

A lot of people had expected Yuki to shrug it off, say how difficult it is to filter questions through two languages and back again, especially right out of the car, to do another oh, sorry, sorry, it's like when I called Pierre a boyfriend or girlfriend years ago haha. A slip of the tongue.

Yuki had not meant to say it, that Pierre knows. He's sure he had stewed over it for weeks, angry with himself, frustrated at something so stupid. Pierre could picture the shape of his jaw, the tilt of his chin.

Yuki hadn't laughed it off - not that Pierre had thought he would. Yuki had never been one to blink first, to call chicken when he was still in the race.

One month and three weeks. That was the gap between them. Seven weeks. Close enough for people to joke - and not joke - about how maybe they were connected.

And it would've been - a joke that is - if Yuki had rolled his eyes and laughed when asked, a race later. But instead, he had stared the camera down, face blank, team coat sipped up to his throat, and said, "I am here to talk about the car. Not who is in my bed."

Or maybe, if Pierre is being honest with himself, which is something he tries to do nowadays, it wasn't because of Yuki and his refusal to play along with the media, maybe it was how Pierre went bright red, choking on his straw, and a little wide-eyed, when he was asked. The way his voice broke on Yuki's name as he tried to answer was equally as damning.

Turns out, having two drivers, who have a history together that fans already adore, especially when only one of them is regularly at the front, date is great for viewership. And Mercedes had been gathering pro-LGBTQ+ whatever sponsorships for a while now since Lewis, so they stood firm behind Yuki and pushed and pushed and pushed until Alpine agreed.

(The blurry photos from last year's end of season party where Pierre is helping Yuki up, hands on his waist, head bent low, and Yuki is looking up, face turned towards Pierre, and it looks like it's more than it is, more than just two friends, didn't help.)

And so, they fake date. Which is - fine, Pierre supposes. Except for the part that he's been in love with Yuki since Alpha Tauri - known it since that first year in Alpine - and Yuki, well, Yuki doesn't love him back, now does he?

[anerdinallherglory]

Approaching Sun (35)

Author’s Note:  I had planned on delivering more this chapter, but the wordcount got a little out of hand and it made the most sense to stop it here. I’ll be working on the next chapter in advance so I can still write the good parts while my muse is present. For those that are still with me reading this story, I would suggest listening to Runaway by AURORA for Sakura’s pov in these chapters and Don’t Worry by Boon for Sasuke’s second pov. Special shouthout to my Optom husband who was happy to lend me his medical knowledge for this chapter. As always, let me know your thoughts. Thank you for your patience. I promise it will pay off. 

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34

Chapter 35: No Help Needed

Sakura’s trail was cold. Beyond their shared bedroom and her departing letter, there was nothing. Like a released bowstring, Sasuke had sprung forth into the night in the direction of the only detail he was certain about her plan: Tanigakure. He had plucked this detail from Mako’s memories like a healer digs out pieces of metal in a flesh wound. The physical toll of traveling nonstop overnight while chakra-depleted had cost the Uchiha, and he had been tempted several times to just pop another chakra pill into his mouth. However, he couldn’t risk taking it in case he came upon a situation where he would need it in combat. So, Sasuke had trudged through the sand all night, wrapping his hair and face with the black cloth of his turban, pulling the hood of his traveling poncho up and over his hair to better disguise himself; Sasuke didn’t want to even waste chakra on a simple transformation jutsu. He ‘had to be discreet,’ after all.

Sasuke arrived at the jagged mountainous ribcage surrounding Tanigakure the following evening, gaining entrance easily as an unrecognizable traveler in a world of peace. His eyes searched for any flash of pink and he stopped at every place he could think where Sakura might start her search for the organization bent on killing her: the hospital she made Sasuke stay at just so she could visit the medical facilities here, and even their old hotel room, but there was no sign of her. After hours of staking out with no word or sign, Sasuke cursed himself for not gathering more information about her plan from Kakashi before pursuing her. His inability to find even a trace of her just went to show that Sasuke was always a little too confident in himself and still found himself habitually underestimating Sakura’s skill. 

As the sun began to set, Sasuke wanted nothing more than to approach every single soul crowding the streets in the evening lantern-lit dusk and ask if anyone had seen her, but Sasuke couldn’t risk the suspicion it would rouse about his own identity. Who was he and why did he want to know? How did he know her and where could they find him if they did see her? He could already hear the questions and he didn’t want any rumors to make it to the leadership of this village. Discretion turned out to be a lot more difficult when you were panicking.

And so, Sasuke perched himself on the roof above a crowded izakaya, where many individuals were flocking to participate in nighttime drinking and he did the only thing he could think of: watch and wait for a word, a clue, the breath of her name or description between the boisterous laughter of intoxicated patrons. In the darkness of night, when the starlight outshone the dimming lanterns, Sasuke even became desperate for the crickets to sigh but a syllable of her name. But like everyone else, they gave him nothing. Sasuke released a frustrated sigh, adding another useless sound to the nightscape around him as he jumped down from the building, too restless to do anything but pace the streets and wonder how he ever ended up like this.  

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Sakura fingered her dark hair in the reflection of the ink-stained water in the bucket at her feet. She scrubbed at the lingering residue of black dye running past her hairline and wrapped the towel in her hands quickly around her short hair. When Sakura heard the crack of the door, she flashed the woman who entered a quick grin. 

“You dyed it!?” the youngest girl of the group, Tabi exclaimed, falling to her knees beside Sakura with her hands covering her mouth. “But it’s your best feature! You would attract the attention of everyone!”

Sakura shook her head, wanting to say something along the lines of ‘that’s exactly the point,’ but she didn’t for the obvious reason of blowing her cover. And despite what she had told the headmistress of the bathhouse, Sakura didn’t plan on being here long—just long enough to gather the intel she needed in order to move into the next phase of her plan. 

“Mother will not be happy,” the girl stated, reaching over to finger a stray lock of jet that escaped from the bundle atop Sakura’s head. 

“Mother,” Sakura responded, using the same honorific for the headmistress, “will hopefully understand my reasons. I don’t want to stand out too much.” 

Tabi shook her head, saying, “Is it permanent? How long will it last? Will the steam from the bath ruin it?”

Sakura shook her head, grateful she could be honest with the young girl with at least one thing. “It should hold for a couple of days, if not more.”

“The sooner it fades back to rose, the better.” Tabi stated matter-of-factly, rising to move to the other side of the room that they shared to begin the evening ritual of preparing for the night’s work. 

Sakura copied her experienced movements, powdering her face while her hair dried, carefully concealing the purple diamond between her brows. Infiltrating this job had been easier than Sakura had anticipated given the reputation of difficulty in this line of work. Sakura had approached the headmistress as a ‘transfer’ from another establishment. Due to Tanigakure’s exclusive nature from the outside world, it was not difficult to acquire fabricated copies of the necessary paperwork indicating a ‘private transfer’ from another village, and Sakura easily produced the medical assessments of her health that was also required. It also didn’t hurt that Sakura’s coloring was considered rare and possibly desirable by some; in other words, she would be highly profitable. Sakura promised the headmistress a steep percentage for every patron she ‘pleased.’ Or would allegedly please. 

No, Sakura did not plan to violate herself in order to gain the information she was looking for. She had never stooped into this role before in all her mission activity, but Ino had once used the disguise in order to slip into minds of her targets more easily once she got them isolated and no harm could befall her body once she performed the jutsu. 

Sakura had only acquired empty leads since she had arrived in Tanigakure. All Sakura needed to do was assess, learn what she could from the right people, and transition into the next step of her plan. The infiltration was the easy part, but this next part was dangerous, and Sakura would have to tread so very carefully. 

“Why are you here, Tabi?” Sakura couldn’t resist asking, wondering how such a lovely girl ended up servicing despicable men at one of the secretive bath house locations in the shinobi world. “How did you end up in a place like this?”

Tabi eyed Sakura curiously for a second before laughing. “I could ask the same about you.” And then she didn’t talk to Sakura for the rest of the evening as they prepped for the night.

Sakura followed the other girls into the establishment, a building disguised as a common bathhouse in the front section, advertising the typical bathhouse amenities, but concealing the back half which included private baths and rooms. When a section of the wall slid back to reveal a dark sitting room, Sakura had to steal herself and conceal an inner cringe under the stares of the lounging men who were already expecting them in the luxury-style waiting room. Sakura never felt so disgusted in her entire life than she did in that moment under the predatory gazes of those who only sought to devour others and pleasure themselves. Sakura immediately found herself second guessing this step. Maybe this hadn’t been such a clever idea. But she had no other choice. The members of the organization had been able to conceal themselves in a “neutral” territory long enough to gain numbers and begin operation. To Sakura, this meant one of three things. The first and most unlikely option was that this anti-peace organization had managed to keep their activity low enough to avoid detection and that Tanikage was truly focused on other things. Sakura doubted this one. The village was simply too small to have as many members as Mako had claimed go undetected. Or there was a very real possibility that the Kage and Council were already aware and didn’t take action because powerful figures were involved, maybe even leadership, or they simply did not care.

When the door was shut behind them, Sakura watched the other girls disappear into the noisy room hazed with pipe smoke, making their way toward familiar patrons. Socialization seemed to be a part of the selection process, to intensify the excitement, and Sakura planned to take advantage of it. She held her breath as she navigated, walking up to Tabi who had already familiarly climbed into the lap of one of the younger men, apparently a returning patron of hers. 

“Is this a new friend,” the man drawled thickly through a handful of Tabi’s hair that he had twirled throughout his fingers and pressed to his mouth. 

At Tabi’s sudden wide-eyed expression at Sakura’s appearance, Sakura answered for herself, soothing Tabi’s fears in the same sentence. Sakura knew the look of someone who felt threatened by her presence, and Tabi was giving her a warning stare for approaching her patron. “Yes. Guta Hae, sir,” Sakura introduced with a bow. “I am new. Perhaps you could introduce me to any friends that you might be in company with.”

Around her, the socialization had already begun and men who had already found their women for the evening, began to mingle with their associates, the girls clinging to their arms like trophies. Several of them appraised Sakura from a distance, naturally curious at the new face. But Sakura wasn’t going to just be picked from the lot like a prized animal ripe for butcher. No. Instead, Sakura would be choosing amongst them in the form of an introduction, just as she had planned. 

Tabi nodded, exclaiming, “Yes. This is her first night so she doesn’t know anyone,” Tabi smiled back at the man who was running his hands possessively over her leg in the dim light around them as he debated whether this unexpected disturbance would be beneficial in some way, or if he should just whisk Tabi away to their private room. “Could you introduce her to some friends, Toka-san?”

“Hmm,” Toka smirked, “any favor for you, dear,” he murmured into Tabi’s hair. “If you’re willing to return it.” 

The words dropped into Sakura’s stomach to spoil like rotten food. This wasn’t good. Sakura didn’t want anyone to suffer anything personally from her meddling, especially not a woman as nice to her as Tabi had been. Just as she was fixing to retract her request, intent to say nevermind, Tabi was helping the man in the lounge chair to his feet, twirling his arm around her neck as they walked toward the crowd gathering in the back of the room. 

The haze grew thicker around the smoking men as they lounged against the shadow-cloaked walls, and Sakura bowed to them when Toka stopped and held out his hand smoothly for Sakura to take. Masking her face to conceal her repulsion, Sakura slid her fingers into Toka’s waiting palm and he held her hand above her head to spin her in a half pirouette in front of his curious counterparts. The way each of their eyes clung to different parts of her body had Sakura feeling like she might wretch. 

“Guta Hae,” Toka introduced, dropping her hand as if he were a gentleman. Sakura knew he was anything but. “She’s new here. Tabi asked that I introduce her to you all.”   

Sakura’s eyes fluttered as she feigned shyness, bringing her shoulders innocently up for a small second. 

There were exchanged smiles amongst some of the men as they debated their current choices, but Sakura’s eyes assessed them back, weighing her options and gathering what little intel she could gather from them. At the center of the pack, Sakura’s medical eye immediately located a man with his eyes tightly bound with bandaging. He was quiet as he tilted his ear to appraise her, solemn with two girls on each of his knees as he sat in one of the red, luxuriously tufted high-back chairs. And Sakura marked him as someone of little interest to her despite the initial surprise of his blindness. His injuries could mean several things, either good or bad for her purposes, but Sakura also could tell that whatever had happened to him had potentially wisened him, and Sakura didn’t need to approach that type of person. The fact that his injury potentially revealed his status as a former ninja, put him on Sakura’s radar; but, she also believed he might be worth investigating at a distance. Sakura’s eyes scanned over the rest of their smoking and laughing personas. 

“New in what way?” one of the men joked loudly as the rest of them snickered with shiny, interested eyes. “New here? Or…new, new?”

Sakura wanted to sneer at such a suggestive question, curl her lip and let her inner Sakura bleed through her teeth and down into her firsts. “I’m from the Land of Fire,” she revealed, weighing the various reactions to such a revelation. And several eyes flickered to her, assessing her differently. 

“The Land of Fire?” asked the loud man again as he crossed his arms. “Can’t be Konoha. I’ve never heard of such an establishment in the Leaf. Not recently, anyway.”

The others agreed around him, but Sakura didn’t reveal that answer. She had made her cast, throwing the lure out onto the smoke-infused water, dangling the bait in the crocodile faces of six influential men. By smiling and shrugging her shoulders and keeping the mystery of her origin concealed, Sakura was reeling in that line and establish her own draw.

Sakura moved toward the loud one, painting a saccharine grin on her face. He was going to be the one to spill secrets, Sakura could tell. He had a mouth on him like Naruto. “Are you familiar with Konoha?” Sakura asked him sweetly as she moved into his inner circle, receiving a glare from the woman on his arm. “I’ve never been to the Leaf, but had many patrons from there,” she continued. 

Before she even learned the man’s name, Sakura’s fingers were grasped carefully once again, the same application of force that Toka had just touched her with, and she was being tugged back around to face the group of men. The rougher man with the bandaging around his eyes had stood to retrieve her, reeling her in towards him as if she were the bait on the line. “Don’t waste your time on him. He’s a clown.”

Sakura’s instinctual reaction was to become solid, send chakra to her feet and become as immovable as her inhuman strength would allow her to be. It took her only a millisecond to resolve herself, to recommit to her plan, and Sakura became supple despite her annoyance with the man who felt too important to be overlooked by her. 

The two women who had once sat on his lap were gone and he replaced them with her, pulling her down to sit on his right knee. She still stiffened despite her resolve, realizing once again how dangerous the people were whom she was trying to play with. This guy was lucky, so incredibly lucky that Sakura’s purpose here was not to kill every single one of them. 

“I can tell you about Konoha,” he spoke lowly, a whisper as the conversation resumed around them, as he bent his head into her blackened hair. Sakura could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest as he said, “What is it that you want to know?”

Sakura couldn’t help herself. She turned her left shoulder into him to create more distance as she watched him carefully. “Are you from there?” she asked, wary that this man might be able to recognize her despite her careful disguise. 

“No,” he answered, “but I know several men who are.”

“Are you a ninja?” she questioned again, trying with everything in her to relax into this man’s embrace. Where their bodies touched, Sakura felt as if he were like a boiling acid, searing and burning at the connection points. 

“Have you been with a ninja?” he countered, and Sakura recognized his attempt to avoid answering the question. 

“Who do you think visited my previous establishment in the Land of Fire?” 

He chuckled, a mirthful laugh that lasted a little too long to make anyone comfortable. His next words sent an electricity through her blood. “What I wouldn’t give to see your face as you lie to everyone around you that you’re a sex worker like the rest of them.”

Her eyes grew wide as she checked to see if anyone heard what he had said. Most of the couples had already retired to their rooms, so Sakura forced her breathing into a steady cadence of ease and indifference. She turned to him slowly. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

Her hand was taken lightly into his and she resisted the urge to snatch it back as he guided it to his cheek, splaying her fingers across the side of his head with his own as he grinned wickedly. “Your face was the last thing that I saw before I lost my vision. I’ll never forget the sound of your voice, Haruno Sakura.”

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When the door closed behind them, Sakura snatched her hand from the blind man who had lead her privately to one of the sauna rooms where extracurriculars were expected to take place. Sakura’s initial plan for this part was immediately interrupted. Pulling a kunai from her tightly-fitted silk attire, Sakura spun and pinned the mysterious man against the black wood of the closed door, kunai flush against the flesh of his throat. Beyond the slight tilt of his chin skyward, the man had no reaction. 

“Who are you?” she hissed, all pretenses and disguises temporarily dropped. 

The man chuckled against her blade. “It’s not surprising you don’t remember me. The battlefield of the war was so gruesome and so many men at your mercy, my face was one in a sea of millions.”

Sakura couldn’t help but think of Satou, Isao’s father, and Satou’s wife, whom Sakura had failed to save. Isao’s mother, too, had been one of millions. Sakura desperately searched for any recognition and came up blank. She remembered healing hundreds of visual injuries—this man had only been one of them. A heavy weight settled in her gut as she realized, that like all those others, his injuries had most likely been passed off to others because of the minority of them in comparison to those on the brink of dying. Severed appendages, organ damage, bleeding. Going blind was unfortunate, but not life threatening.  

Sakura asked the next obvious question. “Are you one of the people out to kill me?”

“Yes, actually.” He admitted and Sakura pressed the blade deeper, contemplating the pros and cons of killing him on the spot. “But,” he added lightly, avoiding the dipping of his throat against the bite of her kunai’s sharpness. “Since I was lucky enough to find you first, I will make you a deal.”

“Why should I even believe a word out of your mouth?”

“Because you have something that I want,” he answered, a hand coming up to grip her own. But he couldn’t move the fisted blade away because Sakura’s hand was as unmovable as steal as she no longer suppressed her immaculate strength. 

“And what is that?” she interrogated, unperturbed by his words. 

“Your abilities,” he smiled. “Heal my eyes completely, and I’ll help you.”

“I’ve been betrayed once already by a fellow member of yours,” Sakura revealed. “I won’t make the same mistake twice. Trusting you is the last thing I am going to do.”

Another chuckle reverberated up his chest like the swell of a wave in a turbulent ocean. “Then don’t trust me. But I am afraid that you have no other choice to work with me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because all of your friends are being watched carefully. And to your soon-to-be dismay, a certain Uchiha has been identified here within Tanigakure, and he is looking for you. The Zenshin’s plans for him aren’t a part of your plans, are they?”

Sakura’s kunai bounced as her hand shook in surprise at his words and it nicked his throat once before she steadied it. He hissed and pulled harder against her hand, but it still didn’t move. 

“He is here?” Sakura asked in a whisper, a myriad of paths of possibility spidering out from the revelation. Sasuke had followed her. Despite her wishes and despite Kakashi’s promises of keeping Naruto and Sasuke preoccupied, Sasuke had followed her. Not Naruto, but Sasuke. Even if it was out of concern for her, why? Why did he continue to doubt her abilities? Sakura pushed those feelings to the back of her mind as a new thought formed around the name of the organization that wanted to kill her and many others: Zenshin. To advance. Progression. The exact same word that Mako had declared to her in the desert wind only nights ago. She finally had the name. 

“Here and unsuccessful in his search for you, is what I have heard,” came the blind man’s sultry response in her face. “We knew you had to be close if he was here sniffing for you.” 

Damn it. Her plans were already starting to unravel. She was banking on the fact that they might not believe her brave enough to confront them, alone and in their own territory.  “On the off chance you’re actually telling the truth,” Sakura growled, “you lot are absolute fools to underestimate Sasuke. He and Naruto are singlehandedly the strongest shinobi to have ever walked this earth. He will mow you down just as Madara did to the shinobi alliance.”

“What about you?” he asked, a smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth despite the knife still secured against his flesh, nearly vibrating with the energy it was taking Sakura not to silence him permanently. “How strong are you?”

In the next movement, Sakura sheathed the weapon and relaxed her face into a smile of her own. “I am not far behind them.”

The blind man instinctively rubbed his neck where her kunai had been, smearing the pinpricks of blood there. “You’re lucky that even blind, my senses are sharper than my companions’,” he spoke, seriousness replacing the nervous humor of his previous persona. “By claiming you first, I have saved you from the lions you were prowling amongst just outside.” 

“Which ones in the sitting room are a part of ‘Zenshin’?” Sakura asked, and her eyes grew terribly wide at the next admission from his mouth.  

“Why, all of them,” he laughed once again. 

All of them? If the man had been able to see, he would have noticed that Sakura’s face had drained of all color. Sakura’s mental efforts doubled as she began to cross out steps of her plan and recalculate, following the conceptual intricate spiderweb of possible effects from each detour she could potentially plan for. 

He took a step toward her. “And all of them were already suspecting your identity the very minute Toka introduced you. I happen to be the only one present who has ever heard your voice. My actions to grab your attention will have interested them even more. I’ll have to explain what I did tonight. Your next move will determine the words that will come out of my mouth.” 

Sakura nodded, still silently assessing her options, before she said, “remove the bandage.”

The man hesitated, as if he was almost unsure if he wanted her to see what lie beneath. He only hesitated for a moment before fingering the white bandage. He walked toward her until he was only a few feet ahead of her. When the bandage slipped down to reveal his eye sockets, Sakura frowned at the unblemished nature of them. Not an external injury that could be healed, then. She had been hoping for cataracts or some other resolvable issue via procedure.

He flinched as she touched his temples, tilting his head back so Sakura could peer into them. She summoned her chakra to her fingertips and pressed exploratory chakra into them. He gasped at the invasion when her chakra made contact with his flesh, and his hand came up to grasp on to Sakura’s wrist.

“I’m only investigating the injury,” Sakura reassured him.    

“I know,” he frowned. “You did so once before. You told me there was little that could be done.”

Sakura nodded, feeling dread at her past self’s words. If she had not been able to heal them, she suspected no one could. Sakura suddenly recalled the shinobi war and Kakashi sensei, whose eye had been torn from his eye socket by Madara and then restored by Naruto, through his perfected Ying-Yang release through the sun seal given to him by Hagoromo. Naruto was not only able to restore Kakashi’s eye from nothing, but he had also been able to revive Obito after the extractions of the Ten Tales, and accomplish other grand healing feats during the war in the duration of which he had possessed the seal. Both Naruto and Sasuke relinquished their Sun and Moon seals when they sealed Kaguya. That sort of healing power was gone now. 

Sakura possessed and could control both Yin and Yang chakra due to her healing training under Tsunade and her natural affinity for genjutsus. Even with Sakura’s near perfect control of chakra, she could not use Yin and Yang simultaneously as Naruto had done with Hagoromo’s seal.  

“Are you able to see anything at all? Lights? Shadows? Shapes?” There was a big difference between being blind and being visually impaired. While others saw nothing but darkness, some could still make out some glimpses of their surroundings.  

“Nothing. Not since the war.”

Sakura frowned as she searched the eyes with her chakra. The eyes themselves were undamaged. The optic nerves intact. The retinas whole. They were clear in appearance, with startling dark irises. Black, like Sasuke’s. No clouding. There was only one possible cause left: brain damage.

Sakura frowned at how hopeless the situation was. “Do you have any pain?”

“No,” he answered. “Would pain be a good sign? That the body is trying to heal?”

Sakura winced at his train of thought. People often believed that pain meant the body was trying to repair itself, and that if there was no pain, it meant one of two things: the body was not damaged, or whatever healing was to be done was complete. This was not the case for many injuries. If he was experiencing pain, it might just indicate a different type of injury. Saying he had no pain was just strengthening Sakura’s suspicion.

Reaching to cup the back of his head, Sakura pushed her fingertips into his scalp. He winced at the contact. 

“Were you hit in the back of the head during the war? Is that how you lost your vision?”

He nodded, grinding down his teeth as she determined the truth he hadn’t offered freely. Brain damage was irreversible. Sakura could not create new pathways for nerves. She felt the dead-end her chakra reached after traveling down the optic nerves. The visual cortexes of the occipital lobe at the very back of the brain was no longer receiving signals from the eye. Sakura suspected that he probably had been told this by multiple healers and was hoping she would arrive at a different conclusion. 

“What’s your name?” she asked, feigning medical indifference to his injury. She wasn’t ready to reveal her deductions while he was still in the mood to answer her questions.

“You can call me Rugo. It’s what the others call me.” 

Sakura nodded, understanding why he wasn’t going to divulge his real identity to her. She decided not to ask what village he was from originally, which was going to be her next question. Tanigakure had been neutral in the war, and since he had allegedly fought in the war, he had either migrated here after the war, or he came to be a part of Zenshin mission, specifically. 

“How many members of Zenshin are ninja from other villages?” she questioned instead while she still had the opportunity. 

He hesitated for a moment, before admitting. “Most of them.” Sakura frowned at that. Just how many ninja had been unsatisfied with their lives after the war that they believed healing the grievances of the next generation stood in the way of progression?

“Is your vision loss why you joined Zenshin?” she asked boldly, trying her best to understand his particular motives. Something as significant as blindness could make the kindest of people bitter. If that was the source of his bitterness, Sakura didn’t understand why he wanted to allow such anger spread for the sake of strength and progression in the next generation of ninja.

He did not answer at first, but then said. “Yes. It is the reason. But I did not join Zenshin to prevent you and others from healing the trauma of ninja. I joined to find you. You are the only one who can help me now.” 

Sakura sighed at his confession and pulled her hands away, but Rugo caught them desperately, a sharp contrast to his cocky charisma. “If you can heal them, I’ll help you. Don’t tell me what the other healers say. I know that you can fix this.”

Sakura pulled her hands free, hesitant to disappoint him. She fumbled silently in her pocket for an item that she had prepared for the next phase of this night once she was alone in this room with whichever man was unlucky enough to become her recipient, even though it hadn’t exactly happened how she had planned.

“I am sorry Rugo. Brain damage cannot be reveresed. I cannot heal them.”

The man frowned deeply at her words, shaking his head. He was not expecting the sharp prick in his neck that came next. Sakura pushed down on the plunger that pushed the harmless sedative into his bloodstream. Ironically, as a medic, Sakura couldn’t help but notice the widening of his eyes as the muscles registered his surprise, which indicated that the cerebellum, the separate part of the brain in control of muscles still operated perfectly. He crashed to his knees before falling forward as she caught him. 

She wished she had the time to tell him that he was lucky, so incredibly lucky to only have lost his vision from the type of head injury that he had received. If any other parts of the brain had been damaged, he would have likely lost his ability to speak, to control his muscles, to walk; he could have become paralyzed. Maybe, if he were still alive, they could have this conversation in the future after she executed her plan. 

Sakura was only a little disappointed that she hadn’t been able to accept Rugo’s offer of assistance as an inside source, after all. Whether or not he had intended to, the Zenshin member had already given her the information she was looking for. And Sakura never really needed anyone’s help anyway. Not Rugo’s. And not Sasuke’s, either.

Only when Sakura turned on the tap water for the bath that wouldn’t be used after all, and she was certain the sound of it would keep her from being disturbed by the head matron, did Sakura bite into her flesh. Blood pooling at the tip of her finger, Sakura placed her thumb against her palm and pushed her five fingers into the ground, performing the summoning technique. 

“Lady Katsuyu,” Sakura greeted the small slug, 1/1000th of her original body, that began to climb its way over the legs of the man she had just incapacitated. 

Sakura knelt, using her blood smeared finger to trace an intricate symbol on Rugo’s temple. The blood pooling where she had traced, and small trails hastily dissected from the main paths to trickle down into the hair at his temples. “You’re certain this will work?” Sakura asked the human-size slug that reached up to cover the man’s unmoving face with her body. 

“It should,” Katuyu reassured her. “The blood is just an extra step of assurance. I should be able to do this on my own without it.”

Sakura nodded, sparing the little extra chakra it took to stop the blood flowing freely from her thumb without completely healing it. She was going to have to repeatedly break the skin there as the night continued, so growing new skin was not needed.  “This is the first of many.”

“Sakura, dear,” Katsuyu responded as the slug divided into an even smaller version of herself and slipped into Sakura’s outstretched palm while the main body completely consumed the man Sakura had incapacitated.  “Please be careful.”

 “Of course, milady. I’m sorry for what you will witness from this moment on.” She tucked the slug away into the hem of her robe’s neckline. 

Sakura opened the door to her room and turned to stare down the hallway at all the closed doors concealing the fellow members of Zenshin. 

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It was the sheer lack of activity that he was witnessing in his observation spots that first alerted Sasuke that something wasn’t quite right. In every town, if someone positioned themselves correctly, there would be brawling to spectate, scandals to witness, information to gather, but not in Tanigakure, apparently. The last twenty-four hours had been surprisingly uneventful in comparison to his first pass through when Sasuke and Sakura had been ambushed in their sleep. It was odd, how quickly they had been identified the first time in Tanigakure, but Sasuke had yet to be approached. Yes, he had been more discreet than before, but Sasuke was starting to feel annoyed both with his lack of progress in finding Sakura’s whereabouts and this organizations inability to notice his whereabouts. 

That was, until he noticed that nothing around him was particularly noticeable. Ah, he realized. So I have been discovered. It was the only explanation for how fruitless his efforts had been to acquire any real intel about an organization fixated on killing his friend. Sasuke realized immediately that he was purposefully not being fed anything helpful. It only unnerved him when he realized just how many people must be in this group if the multitudes of people he currently watched from above were being intentionally silent. Sasuke also surmised that whatever organization this was, they were also dodging interest from the leaders of Tanigakure. They, too, were trying to fly under the radar.

And so, Sasuke waited in the night, perched above the noisy izakaya once more, rain pattering against his cloak and bouncing from the brim of his black hood, content to play his role while he schemed. He contemplated doing something unexpected just to shake things up, but what would they consider unexpected? Sasuke tried to see this situation for their perspective. This organization knew that Sasuke had followed his pink-haired friend here, and that he was searching for her. They knew that Sasuke had retreated the last time he was here, whisking Sakura away in order to protect them both. They knew he was trying to be discreet so as not to cause any problems for Konoha. With that information, Sasuke deduced that they expected him to continue to look for Sakura, sit and listen discreetly until he located her, interrupt her mission to take her away. They were allowing him to do just as they expected him to in order not to alert him. 

To their extreme disappointment, Sasuke was smarter than everyone involved in this ridiculous plan to distract him. 

And so, Sasuke covered his face tightly. He planned to throw a wrench into the plan, discreetly, while still sending a very strong message to those he assumed lurked in the rain-cloaked shadows. And it wasn’t going to cost him very much chakra. 

Unfortunately for them, thunder rumbled above him, and Sasuke inhaled the energy of the surrounding atmosphere. Unlike in his battle with Itachi, Sasuke did not have to manipulate the air with Amaterasu in order to manipulate the cumulonimbus clouds into existence. They brooded over him regardless, as if his very frustration manifested into the storm that now cast the village in a torrential downpour. For once, Sasuke saw it as a sign that the universe might actually be on his side, that his decision regarding a future with Sakura might have been the right one. One worth destroying a few buildings for. 

And he did exactly that. Sasuke wasn’t entirely his former revenge-seeking self, one bent on the destruction of an entire village, but he smirked dangerously as a flash of lightning struck the infuriatingly useless izakaya. A lightning bolt strikes in 1/1000th of a second, and the explosion happened first. Sasuke waited on the sound to follow before he let out one quick laugh to himself. Sasuke inhaled as if it were the first real breath he had in a long while; it felt so good to let go, to cave to destruction. To push things back into motion and take control of a situation. 

As expected, people ran from the building, some attempting to put out the small fire in the ceiling, while others ducked for cover back into other structures and away from the smoking rooftop. The heavy rain assisted in putting it out very quickly, causing minimal damage. 

It wouldn’t draw enough attention from those who didn’t know that the lightning wasn’t entirely one of nature’s unfortunate disasters. Only those who were watching him as closely as he was suspecting, would realize that Sasuke was done waiting. 

When two ninja landed on either side of him, Sasuke’s Sharningan glowed in the dark as he leaned his head back against the building, arm slung forward over one reclined knee. His Sharingan darted to each of the two men, seeing what no one else could see in the blinding shower and muddled night. Two shinobi, faces covered, stood before him, proudly adorning two headbands with that insufferable five-spiral symbol he’d seen the last time he was here and more recently glimpsed from Mako’s memories. 

“Finally,” the Uchiha breathed as he rolled his neck. 

At his words, the two ninja, obviously assigned to monitor him, glanced at each other in surprise. Sasuke saw it cross their faces: the moment they realized they had been outplayed and forced to show themselves. 

The air, now electrified, lashed out on its own and more lightning crackled in the air above them. In one lightning flash, Sasuke sat unmoving against the building’s side. In the very next, he had swapped with one of the men, teleporting places with him. Timing his movements with the crash of thunder, Sasuke grabbed the second by the neck and hurtled him into the first, smashing their bodies together. Sasuke justified his next actions based on two things: his low levels of chakra and the fact that he had one arm to handle two ninja at once. His katana spun free of its sheath before either men could even react to their sudden collision, and Sasuke skewered them on his blade, penetrating one through the shoulder and the other through the bicep until they were pinned together against the elevated section of the roof. They cried out in unison but their noises didn’t echo beyond the very next crack of lightning that Sasuke generated somewhere in the distance, its very purpose to disguise their screams. 

Releasing the blade, Sasuke knelt before them in the pouring blackness, just so that they could see a glaring set of red and purple irises. He wouldn’t waste his limited chakra combing through their deranged minds, so Sasuke planned to interrogate his preferred way and do it thoroughly. “Where is she?”

“We don’t know who you’re talking ab—,” came the automatic lie, and Sasuke twisted the blade immediately in disguised fury. He was not in the mood to listen to deceptions. The thunder boomed. 

Sasuke sighed. Sometimes it was the most predictable outcomes that tipped Sasuke over into an all-consuming sea of annoyance. If he treaded this sea too long, Sasuke would tire and eventually sink, and the Uchiha was already too well-acquainted with the depths of anger. If he hit the bottom, people would begin to die. And Sasuke didn’t want to be a murderer anymore if he could help it. Steadying himself, Sasuke pinched the bridge of his nose and said lowly, “I would advise not bothering to waste my time with more lies. It won’t end well for you.”

“We don’t know,” spat the first man as he clutched at the katana penetrating through his arm. “The lightshow is unnecessary. Someone needs to put you in your place, Uchiha, for using your power in this village.” 

So that was it. As long as Sasuke was laying low, they were planning to leave him to his futile attempts to find Sakura. They didn’t want the real authority alerted to his presence because then Sasuke would talk, explain his presence and involve the real people in charge of this village. That, or there was deal with the higherups. If the village leaders knew of this organzaiton’s activity, they had allowed it to transpire as long as it remained inconspicuous. All of this information told Sasuke that the less evident of a profile this organization could keep, the better. Sasuke suspected that Tanigakure didn’t want multiple villages involved, but were somehow benefiting personally from this arrangement. Sasuke guessed that this secret organization also wanted to eliminate more reputable individuals off their list before they were confronted by multiple parties. It was a testament to their lack of experience and firepower if they had yet to eliminate Number 1 and had already pissed off two out of the five Kage. 

“Last chance to be honest,” Sasuke hissed, twisting the blade deeper into both of their bodies, relishing the squelch of the blade’s movements in their flesh.

“We lost her!” the man in the very back hissed, spitting out rainwater, holding his partner very still with his clenched fists to keep him from jostling the weapon any further. “And many of our men, with her.”

Sasuke unfeelingly blinked at that confession. 

“Shut your mouth,” the front man said to the fellow soldier behind him, jostling the both of them as he tried to shift in order to look back at him. 

“Stop moving!” the man in the back hissed, grabbing more firmly to the man seated practically in his lap. 

They had already located and lost her? The mention of other members of their organization going missing was the part that had Sasuke’s mind trying to make connections. Sasuke wasn’t sure if this was a trap. He had expected it to be a lot more difficult to receive any answers from anyone. So, what was the angle? Did they intend to follow Sasuke to her after telling him that? There would be no chance of that happening; Sasuke would quickly ensure it. 

Inhaling, filling his lungs with electric energy, Sasuke reached forward and gripped the hilt of his katana. The current came from his lungs when he exhaled and it snaked around his arm in a circuiting slither, crisscrossing down the blade until a surge of electricity connected with their open wounds. Another crack of lightning, closer this time. More screaming. 

It had been a very long time since Sasuke had used this technique to simultaneously torture and weaken his captive. He remembered performing this very move on Yamato, the temporary squad leader for Team 7 when they had come searching for Sasuke in one of Orochimaru’s underground hideouts. How ironic that he had once felt the same level of annoyance that he was now, but it had been directed at Team 7. And now. Now, it was because these imbeciles had the absolute audacity to come after one of them, as if any member of Team 7 could be taken down by such dirt beneath their feet. As if Sasuke didn’t have the absolute power to obliterate every single one of them without a second thought. 

“Enough,” Sasuke growled lowly, forcing himself to talk more than he was usually inclined to do. “This current will intensify over the course of two minutes until you are essentially executed by electrocution. Which means you have two minutes to answer my questions without lying. If I even suspect a lie, lightning will travel straight to your heart before two minutes is even up.”  

Their eyes widened, and Sasuke moved out of the path of the rain running down the slope of the roof towards him, until he was free of any electrified water that connected with their bodies. 

“First question,” Sasuke began, thickening the electricity traveling through his arm to his blade. “Where was her last known location?”

“The bathhouse,” groaned the man in the back, the more talkative of the two. “The brothel.”

Despite his usual collected countenance, Sasuke’s red and purple eyes widened marginally at such a word. A brothel? A brothel? A new fire quickly formed in Sasuke’s chest at the revelation, and it was not the lightning-style chakra centralized there. It was a fire of panic and rage. 

“When?” Sasuke asked next, amping up the voltage once more. The man in front, the first to receive electrical current, slumped forward unconscious.

“Earlier in the night,” the guy mumbled, lips beginning to numb with the rest of his body. His words still came out in a rush, however, eager to meet Sasuke’s deadline, before he, too, ended up like his partner. “Our leaders failed to give us our next orders at our usual rendezvous point. We arrived at the bathhouse, their last known location, to investigate—the other girls. They told us she had taken them.” 

“Where is this bathhouse?” came Sasuke’s final question.

“Promise you will spare me, first,” the man pleaded, but Sasuke’s frustration only grew at the begging. Instead of assuring the man, Sasuke twisted his blade again. 

After the scream, came the answer to his question. “On the eastside, against the mountain.” This man, too, fell unconscious, slumping against his partner, when Sasuke poured more electricity into his chest cavity. Sasuke ripped his blade free from their bodies. 

He left them there in the rain, feeling absolutely no guilt at all because they would at least eventually wake up. Unlike every man who had occupied Sakura’s space in a godforsaken brothel, these two men were lucky because they would keep their lives. 

[maestrojax]

elf sharing jarlaxle moments: gay edition

“Suggestions?” he asked Entreri.

“Something to drink,” the assassin replied.

Jarlaxle pointed to one bottle, uttered a simple magical command, and snapped his finger back, and the bottle flew from the shelf to his waiting grasp. Two more points and commands had a pair of glasses sitting upon the bar before the companions.

Jarlaxle reached for the bottle. The stunned and angry Briar snapped his hand out to grab the dark elf’s arm.

He never got close.

Faster than Briar could possibly react, faster than he could think to react, Entreri snapped his hand on the barkeep’s reaching arm, slamming it down to the bar and holding it fast. In the same fluid motion, the assassin’s other hand came, holding the jeweled dagger, and Entreri plunged it hard into the wooden shelf right between Gentleman Briar’s fingers. The blood drained from the man’s ruddy face.

“If you persist, there will be little left of your tavern,” Entreri promised in the coldest, most threatening voice Gentleman Briar had ever heard. “Enough to build a proper box to bury you in, perhaps.”

“Doubtful,” said Jarlaxle.

The drow was perfectly at ease, hardly paying attention, seeming as though he had expected Entreri’s intervention all along. He poured the two drinks and eased himself back, sniffing, and sipping his liquor.

Entreri let the man go, glanced around to make sure that none of the others were moving, and slid his dagger back into its sheath on his belt.

“Good sir,” Jarlaxle said. “I tell you one more time that we have no argument with you, nor do we wish one. Our road behind us has been long and dry, and the road before us will no doubt prove equally harsh. Thus we have entered your fair tavern in this fair village. Why would you think to deny us?”

“The better question is, why would you wish to be killed?” Entreri put in.

Gentleman Briar looked from one to the other and threw up his hands in defeat. “To the Nine Hells with both of ye,” he growled, spinning away.

Entreri looked to Jarlaxle, who merely shrugged and said, “I have already been there. Hardly worth a return visit.” He took up his glass and the bottle and walked away. Entreri, with his own glass, followed him across the room to the one free table in the small place.

Of course, the two tables near that one soon became empty as well, when the patrons took up their glasses and other items and scurried away from the dark elf.

“It will always be like this,” Entreri said to his companion a short while later.

“It had not been so for Drizzt Do’Urden of late, so my spies indicated,” the drow answered. “His reputation, in those lands where he was known, outshone the color of his skin in the eyes of even the small-minded men. So, soon, will my own.”

“A reputation for heroic deeds?” Entreri asked with a doubting laugh. “Are you to become a hero for the land, then?”

“That, or a reputation for leaving burned-out villages behind me,” Jarlaxle replied. “Either way, I care little.”

That brought a smile to Entreri’s face, and he dared to hope then that he and his companion would get along famously.

[seneon]

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 . . . 𝐘/𝐍 𝐋/𝐍

there was an empty spot right towards the end of the cemetery. nine graves in total that the individual has walked through and read their little stories on a piece of brochure that she received from a random man by the streets.

the brochure ends at the story of the murdering man. and there were only nine tombstones in the whole place. not ten, like it was classified publicly. the tenth spot for the grave is empty. there is nothing but pure soil, grass, and dried leaves resting on the earth.

what could be the cause of it? where is the tenth grave? why does the brochure ends specially at the ninth dead body? were there even answers to such questions?

she thought and looked around, then catching a shadow at the corner of her eyes. she turned to where the shadow is and stared at it. tall figure, messy hair, and in casual clothes. it is a man. he is faceless, you couldn't see his face— for the lamppost behind him outshone him.

"are you sure it's a good idea to be visiting the ten legendary graves in the middle of the night? and alone too." he said, as the girl only stated right at him. "there is only nine, not ten graves. you must be mistaken."

"you are mistaken," he spoke once again.

the moment he smiled, the girl could hear the grounds beneath her cracking. uneasiness and fear starts to build up in within her as concrete cracked and fell to the earth. as she looked around, horror slowly embraced her heart and consumed it.

the tombstones are cracking open, from the very first grave of a vampire down to the very last. dead bodies are rising. or are they alive? always alive...?

"how naïve.." an alluring voice said through the night as the girl was swayed by the melody that lies in the voice.

"would anyone be so brave as you to even step into this ground?" her trance was broken by a smooth and deep voice, empty eyes looking down at her.

"clearly not. this girl is a stupid, common idiot," footsteps walked through the cemetery, coming closer and closer to where the girl stood.

"give her a break, this is our first visitor," another monotonous voice sighed in the darkness, holding his staff close to him. "she would make a pretty decoration here though."

shit.

what is happening?

what is this?

where did all these voices came from...?

then it clicked. if tombs are breaking and grounds are cracking. that could only mean one thing. none of these tombs are actually graves. they're just displayed there, for the next person to find, for the first person to enter the grounds of death.

"do you understand the situation you're in right now, girl?" grimmjow said behind you, slowly walking up to stand beside you. he bends down to your ear and whispers;

"you're the tenth grave."

while your eyes widened in shock, the sound of penknife opening filled your ears. the grave of grimmjow jaegerjaquez—it seemed like it was a fake when you stood there inspecting it before. now you know why. he was never dead or never cremated or buried or even cease.

if so, the same goes to every other graves and the concrete and dolls and emptiness that represents them and their lives.

there wasn't even a single dead body in this graveyard to begin with. it was all a legend, after all. who cares if a frankenstein wanted love? who cares if a porcelain doll was made by someone delusional? who cares if a man is a devil's descendant?

only you.

and your story?

it started from the first step through the cemetery gates and through the graveyard. the legends are out, seeking for a revenge on a certain soul that lived on for centuries, reincarnating over and over again through different lives.

it must be nice, huh? to have your past lovers live on just for mere revenge or for the sake of seeking you again. you belong in the grave with all of them.

you are the last grave.

grave nine 🪦 spooktober graveyard series

© SENEON OCT 19th 2023 | 10th PIECE OF S. GRAVEYARD.

[lichtenbergforest]

YOU DONT SEE US LIKE I DO

Summary: How could people leave him? How could they leave this loyal, good soul? How could they hurt Buck like that? He was so easy to love - so he said it.

It’s quiet, but Buck hears it.

Word Count: 3k

Notes: first tumblr post woot woot! this is cross posted on archive of our own - it’s technically a songfic bc i listened to i do by reneé rapp while i was writing. without that song, this fic wouldn’t exist :)

requests go here! • find me on ao3 here!

We fall asleep on the couch, I refuse to move

'Cause it's the only time that I'm ever sleeping next to you

It was a rough shift, and Buck hadn’t taken more than a look to follow Eddie back to the Diaz household.

Rough days always ended in movie nights, Christopher would sit between them and hold the popcorn - and he always held them back, relaxing into their hugs despite being a bit ‘too cool’ for that now.

It was the couch that Eddie found himself on after unlocking the door and heading inside, not needing to glance back to know that Buck was following him - he just would be.

He was proven right when the front door closed and the sound of Buck’s bag hitting the floor filled his ears, a tired Buck soon collapsing next to him on the couch. Eddie held his breath for a moment - they were always tactile, but Buck had never simply leaned closer and nuzzled his head into the crook of his neck before.

Eddie tensed up, mind racing as the scent of Buck’s shampoo filled his nostrils and made him dizzy. Buck was out like a light only seconds later, and Eddie manoeuvred his arms around his friend - friend, he tried to remind himself - and carefully moved so that his legs wouldn’t cramp up.

Chris was fast asleep, Carla having gone through his night time routine with him, so it was just them.

And Eddie felt gross, he hasn’t showered after his shift and Buck hadn’t either, but in that moment he didn’t care.

Buck was laying in his arms, his breath was tickling his neck.

And god, he wants.

He wants and wants so selfishly that he should feel guilty, but he never would when it came to Buck.

His best friend, his co-parent, the person who he revived, the person who survived and came back to him.

His Buck.

Some days it hurt - the cemetery was rough, meeting Natalia was god awful, and he thanked his lucky stars that it had ended.

He’d promptly broken up with Marisol, which hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped.

“We went on a double date, with your kid! What the hell do you mean this isn’t working?!”

He held back a shudder at the mere memory of that conversation.

His love for Buck just outshone everything else - eclipsing everything else and making life feel worth living.

But while Eddie wasn’t ashamed of his love for Buck, he was a coward.

And tomorrow he would feel guilty for letting himself fall asleep on the couch just to hold him for a bit longer.

When we're saying, "I love you"

I mean it different than you do

Sometimes Eddie felt brave - he had to at least try and tell Buck.

The man had driven over in the rain at 2am on the night of a shift the second Eddie called and mentioned having a particularly bad nightmare. If Eddie hadn’t been in love with him before, he absolutely would be now. Buck did all of that and more for Eddie - he felt like he at least owed him that.

Buck was in the kitchen making his special hot chocolate for them, and Eddie was sitting on the counter watching as buck melted the marshmallows for his concoction.

The kitchen light was the only light on in the house, and Buck is wearing mismatched socks, cookie monster print boxer shorts and a white t-shirt, and it’s leaving Eddie feeling some type of way as the light hits him just right.

How could people leave him?

How could they leave this loyal, good soul?

How could they hurt Buck like that?

He was so easy to love. So he said so.

“I love you”

It’s quiet, but Buck hears it.

He blinks once, twice and then smiles all sleepy and pauses what he’s doing.

He takes two steps towards Eddie, and he feels like he’s frozen as Buck squeezes his shoulder and says he loves him right back.

“I love you too, Eds - you’re my best friend and I want to be here for you” he says.

Eddie feels cold all of a sudden.

He feels a little melancholy after that, like his heart hurts, like it’s bleeding and trying to claw his way out of his chest

You don't see us like I do

You don't see us from my view

It's like we're both looking up

And I'm under a storm

And you’re seeing sky-blue

“To Maddie and Chimney!” Hen shouted across the patio, everyone cheering and taking a sip of their desired drinks.

Maddie looked beautiful, and Buck had looked so unbelievably choked up at his first glimpse of her.

He’d grabbed Eddie’s hand as he sucked in a deep breath - Eddie had expected him to let go after the tears stopped welling up, but he hadn’t.

Eddie was torn between watching Maddie and Chimney’s vows and looking from Buck to their hands - he only felt a little bad.

He felt cold when Buck released his hand at Maddie’s announcement.

“Bouquet toss! Gather round, singletons!”

Buck was on his feet quickly at that, and Eddie had a moment to just…look at him - to appreciate the way the light hit his skin, the way his skin dimpled at the corner of his mouth.

He was beautiful.

Eddie was so in love.

Sometimes he wanted to tell him - he’d almost told him so many times, but then Buck would say something - or look at him in a certain way, and he just couldn’t.

He couldn’t risk this going wrong for Christopher, for Buck, for their family and their friends.

And his chest ached, god, it ached.

Maddie tossed the bouquet, and Buck jumped towards it, his height giving him an unfair advantage.

And then Christopher was cheering for him as he caught it, he glanced at his Dad’s winded look and cheered a little less.

“Is there a Buck 6.0 update incoming?” Athena joked, glancing from Buck to Eddie with some kind of all knowing look.

It made Eddie’s skin crawl.

Buck laughed, throwing his head back.

Why did he have to be so gorgeous?

“You’re next, little brother! The bouquet said so” Maddie laughed and Buck positively groaned.

“Why do I need to get married next? What if I want to take a break and just, I don’t know, bro out with Eddie?” Buck complained, and Eddie positively choked on his drink.

Athena gave his back a pat from her spot beside him, a smirk pulling at her lips. “I’m sorry - bro out? What on earth are you on about, Buck?!” Josh looked positively confused and extremely amused.

Chimney looked like he knew something no one else did.

Eddie was paranoid.

No one could possibly tell he loved Buck, right?

He prided himself on his ability to school his behaviour.

“You know, staying single and just hanging out with my best friend. We’re basically in an intimate-less marriage anyway! I have everything with Eddie, just in a platonic way, you know?”

Eddie couldn’t fucking breathe.

Chris was beaming beside Buck, looking up at him with glee, “Does that mean I can start calling you dad?” He pondered out loud, glancing at Eddie anxiously.

Buck was glowing, and Eddie felt like he was drowning, but now it was more of like drowning in a jacuzzi, he felt warm as opposed to the cold he felt at Buck’s implications.

Eddie nodded, a smile of his own making its way across his face as Buck nodded and Christopher.

God.

Buck was everything.

And Eddie was so, so blind - how could he not notice the heart eyes that stayed on him the second Eddie was in his presence?

[centuryberry]

@peachshadows / @terrible-leviathan Here’s another chapter! This time, A-Dan meets her wannabe stepmother - I mean, Uncle.

The Celestial Palace was abuzz with the latest gossip about the Prince and the Little Princess. They’re all that everyone was talking about these days. And how could they not? The Royal heirs were a novelty. The Emperor and Empress had kept their births a secret from the entire Three Realms until recently.

The news shook the entire Court. Especially the Brotherhood, who had all been in the dark about the cubs the entire time. None of them knew. None of them even had a clue. Upon hearing about the news from DBK, Peng had hissed with outrage and Yellow Tusk had trumpeted his discontent.

Not one, but two little cubs. Not one, but two heirs that Wukong’s reign as Emperor is stable. Not one, but two anchors that kept the Six-Eared Macaque tied to the much-desired position as Empress and mate.

Not one, but two obstacles that stood in Azure Lion’s way to the Heavenly Throne and Sun Wukong’s side.

Azure had kept silent throughout it all. He knew better than to verbalize his disappointment. Macaque could hear all and he would be more than happy to take and twist Azure’s words in a way that would displease Wukong. He couldn’t risk any more setbacks that could render any chance of recovery unsalvageable.

Still, it stung Azure that his Emperor kept such important news from him - from the entire Brotherhood. No doubt, that scheming rat of an Empress poured poison into his ears and convinced him that this subterfuge was necessary.

But Azure did not let the news keep him dispirited for long. After all, obstacles could become footholds. Azure just needed to get to know the cubs enough to know what role they could play as he rearranged his plans.

An opportunity came to Azure by chance. He had been performing his duties and keeping order within the court. While passing the throne room, he heard youthful giggling coming from behind the doors.

Ah. The younger one came to visit, then. Perfect.

Azure entered without announcing himself, pasting on an expression of concern and wariness. He heard strange sounds that did not sound like the Emperor coming front the throne room, he would say if anyone (Macaque) tried to make accusations. “My king? Are you well? I heard…Oh?”

The concern may have been false, but the surprise certainly wasn’t. Princess Xiaodan was the spitting image of Liu’er Mihou. From her six, little ears to her black and sunset-themed hanfu, she was every inch his daughter. Azure half-expected the Little Princess to open her mouth and deliver a scathing rebuke for interrupting them unnecessarily like Macaque would’ve had.

But no, the princess remained silent and wide-eyed on her father’s lap, possibly stunned silent from Azure’s abrupt entrance.

“Azure! My friend!” The easy smile that leapt onto Wukong’s face never failed to warm Azure’s cheeks. But the Emperor’s attention quickly shifted away from him to the little one on his lap. His easy smile changed into something softer and adoring - very similar to the special smiles he’d give his mate. There was a familiar sting of bitterness that ran through Azure when he was yet again outshone by a six-eared monkey.

“Azure, I would like you to meet Sun Xiaodan. My daughter,” Wukong introduced her with pride as if the entire court and nearly all of the Three Realms didn’t already know her name.

Still, Azure put on a gentle smile he reserved mostly for little ones. “Princess. This subject greets you,” he said formally before getting on one knee for a proper bow, more for her father than for her as she was too young to understand the nuances of the court.

Xiaodan blinked at him. For a moment, Azure feared that she’d burst into tears. It happened more often than not for a being his size when he was around children. But then, she started to coo and chirp.

Despite visiting Flower Fruit Mountain many times in the past before Macaque’s ascension as its new ruler, Azure never saw the mountain’s baby monkeys so he didn’t recognize the sounds coming from the princess’s mouth. To his surprise, she reached out with both hands for him, making grabbing motions.

When his daughter shot him an imploring look, Wukong immediately got off the throne so he could carry her closer to Azure.

“Hi!” Xiaodan chirped sweetly as her tail wiggled with ill-hidden excitement. A smile was pulled from Azure’s mouth almost instinctively in response to such pure happiness.

“Hello, little one.”

Xiaodan slowly reached out. Her hands hovered over Azure’s mane. She tilted her head. “…Yes?”

It took a moment for the Celestial Beast to realize that the little princess was asking him for permission to touch him. A rumbling laugh came, unbidden, from his mouth before he could stop it. “My, how polite you are!” He praised her happily. “Yes, you may touch my mane.”

With a happy little squeak, Xiaodan buried her little hands into his mane. To Azure’s surprise, she didn’t grab and pull like he had expected. Instead, she was gentle as she stroked his head and carded her tiny fingers through his fur. She was grooming him, Azure realized.

Xiaodan let out an adorable little grumble when she couldn’t reach the rest of his mane and hopped right out of her father’s arms. Azure didn’t dare startle when she landed on his shoulders, fearful that she might slip and fall if he made one wrong move. She didn’t.

Wukong hovered near them the entire time, alert in a way that Azure understood but was aggrieved to see. Don’t you see that every part of you will always have my devotion? He cried out in his heart. This little one has your markings and your smile. How could I not protect her from all harm? How can you be so blind to all that I feel for you?

Xiaodan’s continued chirping and laughter eased Azure’s silent heartache.

“Soft!” Xiaodan marveled. She giggled when his ears twitched at her feather-light touches.

“Why thank you, Princess.”

“What are you doing with my daughter?”

All of the good mood in Azure’s chest disappeared at the voice of his esteemed Empress. Macaque strode into the throne room, not even bothering to hide his possessive anger and distrust towards Azure behind the usual forced veneer of civility. Behind him trailed the eldest, whose resemblance to both of his parents were less obvious than his younger sister. Still, the staff he carried marked him as Wukong’s son and heir.

“Empress,” Azure greeted curtly. Then, with less steel, “My Prince. I apologize for not being able to greet you properly, but I am afraid the little Princess would fall if I bow.”

The Prince held up his hands with an alarmed look on his face. “It’s all good, man! Don’t stress about it! A-Dan’s safety is super-important so good call. I’m not really a fan of the whole bowing thing anyways.” He scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly. “And…it’s just MK.”

“Prince MK,” Azure corrected himself with good humor. “I am -

“Azure Lion,” Macaque all but hissed, fur fluffed up with fury, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“Apologies, Empress,” Azure said without much remorse at all. “To answer your question, I was greeting Princess Xiaodan when she requested to play with my mane. As her Uncle and sworn subject, I thought it was fine to indulge her. It was not my intention to cause you any undue stress.”

“Lies.”

“Moonlight, that’s really what happened. A-Dan was the one who insisted on getting to know her Uncle better. I was there,” Wukong spoke up in his defense. It only served to enrage Macaque even further.

As if to rub the salt on the wound, A-Dan chose that very moment to nuzzle him. “Like. Mama, keep?”

Macaque looked as if he was smacked right across the face when little Xiaodan made her request. Azure soaked in the sight of his hurt and savored it.

But then, the firstborn spoke.

“No,” MK told his little sister firmly, eyes briefly flitting over to Azure. “No keeping, A-Dan.”

“But!”

“No buts.” MK seemed to be firm about this. Seeing that his son was supporting him, Macaque recovered and composed himself. A pity. “You know that you’re not allowed. We already talked about this.”

Ah. So Macaque had already trained up his eldest to act against Azure. Not unexpected, but it was still disappointing. From what little of MK he saw, Azure could tell that he was a good and kind cub like his little sister. A pity that he had a mother who tainted him and brought him down.

Xiaodan pouted. “A-Dan care. A-Dan feed. A-Dan brush. A-Dan play. Promise. Keep, Gege? Please?” Her eyes shone devastatingly. Azure was touched by how hard the little Princess was fighting to keep him at her side.

“A-Dan. A-Dan, no.” Instead of looking affected by the pleading, Prince MK looked almost…embarrassed? Regretful?

“Please?” Xiaodan begged, gripping onto Azure’s fur like a lifeline. “Pleeeeeeeease?”

“We can’t take him back home and keep him as a pet, A-Dan.” The Prince finally blurted out, completely shattering everyone’s perceptions about the whole situation. “He’s our Uncle, not a housecat!”

Azure froze in shock.

A…housecat…?

“Want Kitty!” Xiaodan insisted. “Like Mo!”

“No, not like Mo. Besides, Baba and Mama already said no pets until you’re bigger than them. Do you think you’ll get bigger than Uncle Lion anytime soon?” MK asked reasonably.

“…No.”

“Then it’s time to let him go.”

“Awwww. But A-Dan love.”

MK sighed. “You say that about every cat you see, A-Dan.”

This was the most surreal experience Azure had ever been in. He felt unbalanced as the siblings continued to talk about him as if he was some random stray picked off from the streets. It would’ve been humiliating if the Princess and the Prince weren’t so earnest in their own ways.

Macaque started to snicker behind his sleeves, relishing how their positions were now reversed, no doubt. Wukong wasn’t as subtle as his mate and burst into loud laughter. He patted Azure’s back almost consolingly in between guffaws.

“I’m really, really sorry about this,” MK apologized once again after Princess Xiaodan released him long enough for the Empress to spirit her away for a nap. He sent an unimpressed look at his still-laughing sire on the throne. “A-Dan didn’t mean to be rude. I’ll make sure to teach her not to do that again.”

Azure chuckled good-naturedly. “No need, Prince MK. The little Princess is still a very young cub. It’s normal for children to make mistakes from time to time. It’s what makes them so adorable. Still, I’m honored to receive so much of her favor.”

Yes. Misunderstanding or not, a favor was a favor and Azure would take anything that he was offered. Princess Xiaodan’s fondness might’ve been because he resembled a cat, but Azure could work with that. He could endear himself even more to her and become someone dependable, more irreplaceable.

Azure placed a hand on the Prince’s shoulder and smiled.

“As I said before to the Empress, I am your Uncle. If you are ever in need of help or advice, I am here, MK.”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Eclipse: Chapter 28

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades Little more ichor warning here... Sorry about a delayed update tonight, various pieces of independant shit all hit the fan near-enough simultaneously in my life this afternoon/evening. I promise I always update these chapters the moment I'm free to do so! I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<Chapter 27

APOLLO XXVIII

Family quarrel Meanwhile Bob says hello to The sun and the stars

Apollo felt his lips twist into a grim smile.

“You didn’t foresee that, did you, Koios?” he asked, running across air – clean, blessed air – as though it were solid land and sending another brace of arrows at the titans.  “I’m not the one who got too caught up in absolute futures – you are.”

“Less taunting, more killing,” Artemis scolded, loosing a steady hail of arrows herself.  The sun had almost set, Sol taking her chariot down on the last stretch towards the horizon, and in the imminence of the rising moon, Artemis was beginning to glow brighter, a silver that outshone icy blue as Koios’ form became darker and darker.

Apollo managed a soft laugh, the scolding of his twin a familiarity he hadn’t felt in too long – not truly since before he was mortal – and it was a return to a normality that he hadn’t realised he’d been missing until it happened.  He’d missed Artemis something fierce during his time as Lester, and they’d been a little off-kilter in the weeks since he’d re-ascended, partly because he’d been readjusting to being a god again, and everything that came with it, and partly because he’d been too busy worrying about Will and Nico’s prophecy, spending as much time as he could get away with desperately trying to find a loophole.

He'd found one, and the Fates had clearly agreed as the prophecy had almost completed without any intervention from the demigods, from mortals who had no place in Tartarus and would never have survived the Primordial’s wrath, nor anything else in the run-up to Tartarus’ rising.

It hadn’t left much time for reconnecting with his twin.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” Koios snarled, and Apollo had to jump back as the titan diverted almost all of his attacks on him.  “You are still a child in the ways of the future, Phoebus.  Certainties exist, they cannot be avoided no matter how hard you try, and you should not try.  We are custodians of the future, guardians of it.  It is not up to us to meddle.”

He wielded his massive sword as though it was a fraction of the size, hacking and slashing with a proficiency beyond almost any god (Ares would have something to say if Apollo ever claimed a titan was a better swordsman, but it was a close run thing), and Apollo ducked and leaped, disappearing and reappearing in rays of light.

Compared to Kampê, compared to Typhon and Echidna and evading Tartarus itself, playing keep-away was almost easy.  Apollo’s reaction times were better, bolstered by the sun even as it dipped below the horizon, and his power was greater.  Fresher.  Renewed.  He wasn’t at full strength, but nor was Koios – and Artemis was.

It showed in the extra power of the silver arrows, hitting a little bit harder, burying a little deeper where they scored a hit.  Every so often, the simmering silver flames of his sister’s eyes flickered over to him, not an open concern but something, an awareness that Apollo wasn’t as strong as he should be.  He smiled back, waving it away because he was fine – would be fine, once he spent a few more hours out in the Overworld, away from Tartarus and its constantly sapping miasma.

Even with his injuries to account for, Apollo hadn’t realised just how much he’d been weakened until he was back in the Overworld and no longer being subjected to a steady yet subtle drain.  Even if he wasn’t at full strength, he felt powerful.

Koios, on the other hand, seemed to be weakening.  It wasn’t that titans were inherently weaker in the Overworld, although they did tend to get a boost in Tartarus that gods didn’t, but he wasn’t getting the same degree of revitalisation.  Apollo had no qualms about pressing his advantage, gold arrows falling thick like hail, dragging streams of golden ichor out of his grandfather’s form.

The titan refused to concede defeat.  Apollo was glad for that – he didn’t know how to handle a surrender, didn’t know if he could trust Koios to keep any word he might make, especially when his life was on the line.

But Koios wasn’t completely done.

“If I go back to the Pit, he’ll obliterate me,” he said, voice low and rasping.  “I risked everything to come out here, to see you, to see my daughter.  Do you hate me so much you would be responsible for my destruction?  What would your mother think?”

Apollo thought about his mother, her gentle demeanour yet intense stubbornness.  What would Leto think of her children destroying her father?  Apollo had never heard her mention him, but in their family that meant nothing.  Most family did not even acknowledge each other in any sort of familial sense on Olympus.

“If you wanted to see Mother, then you should not have threatened Olympus,” Artemis said harshly, more silver arrows joining Apollo’s golden ones in their persistent hail of destruction.  “This situation is of your own making.”

It wasn’t just Olympus, although Apollo of course didn’t want to see her fall.  It was the demigods, Apollo’s son – his children – and many others he had come to care about.  Demigods who, against a titan could not and should not be expected to fight.

For the demigods, for Olympus, Apollo could fight.

He stepped in, closer, and with a light spring jumped to land on the broad side of Koios’ sword, perching delicately on it even as the titan tried to dislodge him with some complicated strokes.  Inside the minimal striking range of the weapon, he drew his bow back again, a brace of arrows nocked on the string, and let them fly.

At point blank range, not even Koios stood a chance of evading.  All of them crashed into his head, impaling his eyes, his nose, his mouth.  The force alone stripped most of the skin away, leaving the icy blue titan far more gold as ichor spilled down his front.  Artemis leapt up into the air, as light and delicate as her beloved deer, and at the apex of her jump, released another arrow.

It punctured Koios’ heart and he jerked forwards, coughing awkwardly as he tried to expel the ichor that was no doubt pooling in the base of his throat.

“You don’t know… what you’re… doing,” he rasped, a warning that prickled Apollo’s skin for all that none of his foresight had shown him anything alarming that would come out of his grandfather’s death.  Perhaps Koios really had seen something that had eluded Apollo himself.

“Putting down a rabid monster,” Artemis said, landing lightly behind him but moving before his eyes tried to find her.  “It would hardly be the first time.”  With that, she walked away, not even bothering to watch as their grandfather slowly began to turn to ash, too many wounds of varying severity for even a titan’s constitution to keep up with.

Apollo couldn’t look away, not as Koios took a stumbling step forward, reaching for him – for him to heal him.  He watched, instead, committing to memory the sight of the gold-stained, icy blue titan as he staggered, falling to his knees and then slowly beginning to disintegrate, one limb at a time.

There was no saving him, not once the dust began, but Apollo felt no more attachment to his grandfather as he died then than he had when Koios had first sized him up.  He was a threat – had been a threat – and needed eliminating.

The last light of Sol’s chariot disappeared beyond the horizon as Koios took one last, shuddering breath.  Icy blue eyes bored into his, a desperate rage but no plea, Koios had more pride than to beg for his life, it appeared, and with the last of his strength, he threw the massive sword he carried straight at Apollo.

It was a last, futile, gesture.  Apollo simply stepped to the side, and watched it sail past, burying itself in the side of Hades’ temple, where his uncle could do as he chose with it.  When he looked back at where Koios had stood, there was no sign that he had ever been there.

“What about you, Iapetus?” he heard Artemis ask, and turned around to see his twin glowering up at the remaining titan.  There was something almost comical about a delicate twelve year old girl glowering up at a ten foot tall titan, but Apollo knew better than to laugh.  Artemis would punish him with far too many arrows in far too many delicate places if he did.

“I would prefer to go by Bob now,” Bob corrected.  “Iapetus was the name of the titan who opposed the elder gods and would have continued to attempt to do so had I not been forced into the Lethe and given a new life as Bob.”

"Bob, then," Artemis allowed.  "My question still stands: what about you?"

The titan looked at Hades, who stood beside him.  "I would like to see Nico, first, and then Percy and Annabeth.  I have no designs against Olympus."

"Nico will not be pacified until he sees you," Hades agreed.  Apollo noticed he was rather less offended by the idea than he had been when he'd first learned of Nico's reason for trying to return to Tartarus.  Perhaps the titan had grown on him slightly. His uncle glanced up at the sky, where the first glimmer of stars had begun to appear as a sliver of Artemis guided the moon chariot out of its stables.  "We should return to the Underworld now.  I have left it unattended for too long."

"What about Father?" Artemis asked.  "He will wish to see you about this."  The way she said the word left no doubt that she still did not approve of their quest, and knew that Zeus would not, either.

Hades let out a dismissive bark of laughter.  "My brother will not wish to see me," he said, and Apollo wondered if he was the only one to hear a strain of old pain behind the derision.  "He never does."  Apollo found himself the subject of his uncle's gaze.  "Come, Apollo.  I presume you wish to see your son again."   Before I pass judgement, went unsaid, the look in his eyes telling Apollo he was referring to Asclepius rather than Will.  "Before dealing with my paranoid younger brother."

"The longer you delay, the angrier he will be," Artemis warned.  "Don't make this any worse for yourself, brother.  It has barely been two months since the end of your previous punishment.  You shouldn't push him."

It was the reminder of the last time he was punished, disappearing without a word for six months, that convinced Apollo.

"I need to see my son," he said, meeting Artemis' disbelieving eyes.

 "Apollo," she argued, and his shoulders slumped.

 "I can't just disappear on him without a word," he said quietly, begging her to understand.  "Not again."

She still didn't look like she approved, but she backed down.  "Don't take too long," she warned, a plea of her own in her words.

"I won't," Apollo promised her, and she sighed.

"You'd better not."  She turned to look at Bob again, and Apollo saw her eyes widen.  Curious, he looked at the titan himself, and saw that Bob was looking up at the stars - specifically the newest constellation, the Huntress.

Zoë Nightshade, a long-time companion of his sister and, he remembered, a daughter of Atlas.  A granddaughter of Bob.

"Hello," Bob whispered, barely audible.  There was no response from the stars, the court of Ouranos forever separated from the mortal realm, but after a moment he lowered his gaze, looking directly at Artemis.  "Thank you for honouring her."

Artemis looked taken aback at the thanks, not that Apollo could say he'd been expecting it, either.  "Zoë was a long-time loyal friend and companion of mine," she said after a moment.  "It was the least I could do for her."

Bob nodded in understanding.  "Still, I thank you," he said, glancing back up at the constellation again before turning to Hades.  "I am ready," he added.  "Shall we?"

Hades turned away without a word, heading back into the temple.  Bob followed, but Apollo hesitated for a moment, looking back at his twin.  She looked resigned, although still clearly disapproving of his decision.

"Don't tarry too long," she pressed - Apollo could almost call it a plea.  I don't want to lose you again, passed between them silently, and Apollo flashed her a grin that was far more confident than he felt.

"I won't," he said.  "I just need to see my son, first."  She still didn't look convinced, but she turned away.

"I will find you later," she told him, a promise that almost sounded like a threat, and he smiled wider.

"I will see you then," he replied, and watched as she turned to the silver of moonlight, flickering out of view.

"Apollo," Hades called quietly, and he turned away from where his twin had been to follow his uncle and Bob back down into the darkness of underground, passing the gigantic ice blue sword buried into the outer stones of the temple as he did.  He didn't know how he felt about Koios, his grandfather yet a titan still determined to end Olympus.  Perhaps he should have felt guilty, not even giving him the chance to see his daughter, and knowing that Tartarus would likely eliminate him for good the moment he regenerated, however long that would take.

He didn't, though.  He couldn't, knowing that Koios was a permanent threat to the demigods, to his children and others like Nico and Percy who had been forced through too much already and deserved a peaceful life, not another titan determined to kill them.  And... as Artemis had said, he was an Olympian. He could never have stood by and watched Olympus fall without at least trying to save it.

Passing back into the shadows was less disconcerting than Apollo was used to.  Perhaps it was because, compared to Tartarus, it didn't seem all that dark at all.  It certainly felt more welcoming.  Hades guided them through the twisting passages of the temple, past the closed Doors of Death, until the atmosphere changed and they were no longer in the Overworld, but the Underworld.

Hades greeted Cerberus as they passed, ruffling the fur of one specific head as the massive hound grumbled in contentment.  Apollo gave the three headed dog a wider berth, not overly keen on being either bitten or slobbered on, whichever Cerberus elected to do.  Bob, on the other hand, greeted him as an old friend, and Apollo wondered at how much freedom Hades had given the amnesiac titan, if he'd been able to wander so far from Hades' palace and the associated janitorial duties.

Despite Cerberus’ enthusiastic greeting of Bob, they did not linger, passing the queuing souls waiting to receive their eternal fate – a sombre sight, and Apollo did his best not to scan them for any familiar faces, anyone he had known who had passed while he’d been unable to keep track.  He failed, and caught glimpses of more than a few mortals he’d had an eye on – budding musicians, successful musicians, underappreciated poets…

Mortal lives were short; Apollo lost friends, proteges, interesting mortals near-daily as the Fates cut their threads and moved them on to the afterlife.  It never made it any easier, but he took small comfort from the fact that at least none of his children seemed to have died while he had been in Tartarus (while he’d been mortal had been a different matter, and Apollo had been distraught to find one of his eldest mortal children, Ruth, had passed away shortly after her eighty-third birthday while he'd been rescuing the Waystation’s griffins from Indianapolis Zoo).  He almost never came to the Underworld – technically, he wasn’t supposed to, and visiting the souls of the dead was entirely off-limits so there had rarely been a point to dropping by unless it was to bother Hades – and the eternal parade of the dead unsettled him.

Hades, of course, had no such qualms at all, and nor did Bob, the titan whose descendant had created humans, who held domains such as pain and mortality.  The Underworld was a good match for him, Apollo realised, for all that he had no idea what the titan had planned after greeting Nico and tracking down the other demigods he had befriended to greet them, too.  There was snatches of something in the future, a silver titan laughing with demigods that hadn’t yet been born, finding open plains and simply sitting and staring at the sky, at the sun and the stars as they passed, glowing something fierce, splattered with golden ichor that may or may not have been his own.

Possibilities, all of them.  No certainties, nothing to tell Apollo what Bob would choose to do, but he did know that Bob had chosen not to join Koios’ ambition to destroy Olympus, that he had promised Artemis that he had no intention of doing so – and that those words had sung with the wholesome notes of truth.  For the time being, Apollo would trust the titan – watch him, yes, but trust his word.

Iapetus had always been known for keeping his word, even if in the legends, in the histories he had scraped together later from his mother’s stories and even his father’s, when Zeus was still of a mind to tell stories, those promises had generally been of a darker, more brutal nature.

So far, Bob had done a good job of keeping the agreement they’d released him under, so Apollo figured it wasn’t too naïve to hope that his promise-keeping was applicable to all his promises, and not just ones along the nature of I will make you bleed, slowly and painfully, until you wished you could die.

They passed the Judgement Pavilion and swept through the outskirts of the Fields of Asphodel, the shades absent-mindedly passing out of their way, as though it just happened that they were wandering in those directions – although Apollo knew better, knew that it was Hades’ presence that was gently redirecting them around them rather than risking them coming into contact with the gods and titan.  Hades’ robes, in particular, were a threat to the peaceful shades; Apollo didn’t know how, exactly, it was formed, but he would not have been surprised to discover it operated similarly to Stygian Iron, drawing in any souls it touched as it passed.

None of the residents of Asphodel deserved such a fate, and Hades was fair to his subjects despite the inherent unfairness of death.  Only those that deserved to suffer suffered; the others were left to either a peaceful existence or the celebratory joy of an eternal afterlife.  Even if Apollo hadn’t, on some level, already known that, having felt the depths of his uncle’s essence, the complexity of death with the black and white and grey in between, he would have to be blind not to recognise it.

Beyond the Fields of Asphodel, in the distance Apollo could see the razor-wire containment enclosure that fenced off the Fields of Punishment, their screams just as grating as they had been the last time he’d heard them.  Every soul that was trapped there deserved to be there, for the atrocities they had committed during their lives, but that didn’t make Apollo any happier to hear their screams – especially when his thoughts turned to Asclepius’ amended punishment, and the likelihood that Hades would send his immortal son there.  He hoped his uncle would be more merciful, but he was well aware that he had bartered as much as he could for Hades’ mercy in keeping his son out of Tartarus, and that there were only so many places in the Underworld where the punishment could continue.

Sisyphus was there for defying death.  Asclepius had done the same thing, although at least he hadn’t imprisoned Thanatos to do it.

It still wasn’t a comforting thought.

Apollo tore his eyes away from the sights of various punishments, some milder than others but all torturous to the recipients, and did his best to ignore the screaming as his gaze was instead drawn to the brightest patch of the Underworld: Elysium.

Guarded by high, ornately decorated gates, the sounds of music, laughter and joy spilled out.  Apollo assumed the gates prevented the sound of screams from entering and disrupting the valorous souls’ eternal lives, but it did very little to stifle the sounds of joy emerging.  It was a startling contrast, but one Apollo gladly latched onto, for all the flicker of want stirred inside him.  He had children in there – some lovers, too, but mortals in modern times tended to end up in Asphodel unless they did something truly spectacular.  Elysium was a place for heroes, and while some modern mortals qualified, over the centuries it had largely tended more and more towards demigods and legacies.  Apollo didn’t know exactly how many of his children had ended up there rather than Asphodel – or the Fields of Punishment, a thought he didn’t want to dwell on for any length of time – but he knew of some that had certainly reached Elysium.

Of that number, several were also some of the most recent, sudden, deaths; ones he had yet had time to fully finish grieving for.

“Apollo.”  Surprised, he turned his head to see Hades had slowed to a halt and was looking at him.  Puzzled, he paused next to him, aware of Bob stopped on the other side of his uncle, watching them curiously.  The older god tilted his head towards Elysium, a graceful and almost regal movement – the king of the Underworld in every inch of his posture.  It was a comfort, in a way, to see Hades in perfect control again.  Apollo could still feel the freshly-revealed light in his uncle’s essence, knew that who his uncle was hadn’t changed from Tartarus, but he had always seemed in control and his struggles in the Pit had been wrong.  “Go.”

His muses screeched to a halt.  “Excuse me?”

Hades’ lips quirked up in one corner, an admission of amusement.  “While I am in the process of upsetting my paranoid brother, I may as well add one more transgression to the list,” he said.  “This is the only time I will do this, but go.  Say the goodbyes you were unable to.”

Apollo gaped at him, then glanced back at Elysium, at the gates he’d never been allowed to pass.

The gates his uncle gestured towards, which soundlessly edged open in a silent invitation as the behest of the god.  “You do not have long,” Hades warned.

Apollo needed no more prodding.

He split, staying with Hades and Bob because he knew there wasn’t much time, and that he had two still living sons in the Underworld to reunite with, both of whom would panic if he didn’t appear with Hades, but also heading towards the open gates, pausing in wonder as he stared up at them.

Was this the right thing to do?  Would his children want to see him?  Phoebe had never been the most devoted daughter, not since she joined Artemis’ Hunt, and all his children that had died fighting for Olympus, for him… did they resent him?

This was for closure, he told himself.  A goodbye, Hades had called it, and the selfish, desperate part of Apollo pushed him forwards, through the gate and into Elysium.

Elysium was bright, not lit by the sun but something similar, the warmth and light of paradise, familiar from the echoes of Hades’ essence.  Music played, songs ranging from older than Apollo himself to recent hits from the latest decade, and he slipped through the laughing, happy souls, many familiar over the millennia, searching for the few in particular he had not yet gained peace with.

He found Lee first; his kind, child-loving son had found himself a group of eternally-young demigods and was telling them stories, interspersed with strains of music from a perfect replica of the flute he’d had in life.

Michael was also listening, lounging in the lower boughs of a tree, with a bow held lazily in his hand and a half-full quiver on his hip.  Some of the arrows were buried in targets a hundred feet away, but he seemed content to just sit and listen to his older brother tell stories for the moment.

Apollo approached him first, silently leaning against the base of the tree until his son noticed him, brown eyes widening in shock.  “Dad?”

He had to catch him when he lost his balance and fell out of the tree, for all that he was just a shade, now, and wouldn’t get hurt even if he did fall.

He splintered further, slivers of himself going further into Elysium, finding children doing what they loved best, content in a way they’d never been able to be when they were alive.  Some of them had grouped together – Robyn and Nathan had been of an age when alive, and of an age when they died fighting against Kronos, firm friends and as thick as thieves – while others had wandered further, meeting with old friends or even making new ones, now that they had all of eternity to do so, and no risk of losing the other.

Apollo sought out all of them, leaving a little bit of him with each as he found them to talk, to sing, to do whatever they wanted in a bittersweet goodbye (Michael hugged him, the first time his son had ever initiated one, and Apollo burst into tears while Lee laughed and disentangled himself from his enraptured audience long enough to join in).

Phoebe was the last one he found, running freely with many other familiar faces Apollo remembered from the Hunt, and he felt a pang of regret that Artemis couldn’t be with here, saying her own goodbyes to those she’d lost.  His daughter did a double take as she caught sight of him.

“Apollo?”  She hadn’t called him father since taking her vows; Apollo hadn’t expected that to be any different now that she was dead, but it was a marked contrast to the rest of his children, who upon realising he was there had called him various iterations of ‘dad’.  “What are you-  The gods can’t come here.”

“Phoebe,” he said, taking in the sight of her for what he knew would be the last time.  Tears prickled at the corner of his eyes as he smiled at her, bittersweet but suddenly so thankful he could, one more time.  “Hades let me in, just this once.”

Chapter 29>>