#so I have to sit here annoyed at online strangers for having narrow-minded takes about a videogame mechanic

[arcandoria]

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[ushioink]

(Part 1 of Careful,)

The world’s a little quiet today, or maybe she thinks this way because the AC is on full mode. Her earphones are pressed on her ears, and her fingers are running over the laptop keyboard in light speed. Everything she’s doing is an example of tranquility. She’s trapped in this sphere of solitude, and she loves it. The library is entirely empty, too, considering it’s early in the morning for torture. But whatever, she likes when things are clear and monotonous.

Of course, every good thing is bound to the burden of decomposition, and so her quiet is disturbed. At first, it’s just a body that’s hovering over her table. A large body. Enough to darken her desk and wide enough to block the cool air of the AC gushing over her. She’s intending to ignore it, but she’s not exactly good at that. So she takes off her earphone and pauses her monstrous clicking. She looks up, glare taking place over the dead shapes of her bitch face, ready to confront the person stripping her of her cocoon. Only, she doesn’t see a stranger.

It’s a man, and she’s not familiar with men - usually she’s just a virgin in all aspects of the opposite sex - but he’s not a face well forgotten. He’s one of the dudes that people whispered about in the hallways, and even her, an antisocial not-give-a-shit girl has heard about him. She’s a bit mortified about his sudden station over her table, but she forgets about her curiosity to resume her glaring. He winces a little because of her harsh glaring, especially when she pulls her earphones so she can hear the sound of her eyes going absolutely still in the dangerous motion. Besides him stands another man, a taller one, and he, too, sparks recognition in her well-organized mind. But she doesn’t give this other man attention; she only looks at the shorter guy.

“I have a proposition.” He says, trying to keep his voice steady. She’s a little - a lot - annoyed about his demanding tone, as if he’s used to dropping requests that take no for an answer. So, she scoffs.

“No.”

His eyes, which were narrowed down in a way to intimidate her (as if) widen a little, and he splutter. “You didn’t even hear what I have to say!”

“Don’t care, still no.” She returns back to her speedy typing, just to have something to do and to irritate the guy. God knows how well-versed she is in the effects of ignorance. She hopes he too, is immensely annoyed by it.

His narrowed eyes go a little wide, before he narrows them again. He looks down at the unoccupied chair across her chair, then at her, who’s still pretending to be immersed in her ridiculous writing, before pulling the chair out from under the table and plopping his pretty little butt over it. She doesn’t give him the attention he desires, not even when he releases a big sigh of relief. She keeps on clicking on her keyboard, completely unbothered. This makes him annoyed for some reason. No other female has ignored him like that when he graced them with his pretty, dark presence, and no other person has taken it so far to pretend he doesn’t exist, either. He’s damn well-aware of what he does to people, both genders, whatnot with his beautiful kohl-ridden eyes, his thin, pink lips that perfectly curl into a pout that’s deadly, and his killer body. What’s wrong with this woman? He actually came here by the stupid, stupid convincing tactics of his friend to beg for help, and he’s being swiped off like dirt? Ridiculous!

He curls a fist over his mouth like a fake posh man and clears his throat, making her look at him with her deadly, iridescent eyes. “What if I offered you ten thousand dollars for catching a mice trap in the Dark Dungeons?”

The Dark Dungeons is a place in the university’s library where everyone just pretends doesn’t exist for some reason - probably because of all the boring past researchers of the graduated students stacked there - and ultimately ended up being deserted. A lot of students are scared to venter there alone, recapping fake tales about pale ghosts and demons that are there to hunt them. She’s not afraid of such stupidity.

“Okay,” she shrugs casually, pausing in her rapid typing and closing her laptop. The student blinks at the quick gesture. “Pay it in cash?”

He’s dumbfounded; of course he is. He hadn’t anticipated his dumb proposition (which isn’t even real) to be met with such ease. He continues to blink, “But you just said no.”

She shrugs again, crossing her fingers over her laptop like a CEO waiting for a colleague’s destruction. The fist he’s holding against his mouth is put down on the desk. He wipes his expression clear of his flabbergast. She doesn’t allow him to say anything, though. “It depends on the proposition, really, and my capabilities in doing it. I can catch a mice trap in the presumptuous Dark Dungeons, and I will agree on it for ten thousand dollars. This is, knowing you, the only good offer you’ll be willing to give. I don’t want to hear the rest, because I know the rest, and I refuse the rest beforehand.”

“So you know who I am?” He sounds delightfully surprised. It’s the only thing he caught from her monologue, the fact she knows who he is despite only discovering about her recently.

She gives him a look as if he’s an idiot. Then, she returns to her work and opens the laptop. His cheeks flush at that look, still surprised that she’s not even remotely affected by him. He finally gives his companion, a tall guy who casually slipped on the seat beside him and practically occupying the entire space with his large body, a helpless look; and his friend merely shrugs disinterestedly.

“Hey,” he changes tactics by knocking on her desk with his knuckles, his eyebrows slightly growing narrowed as he frowns.

The man’s a little bit upturned by the mischievous twinkle that goes on like a bell on her eyes as she ignores him, a spark that would have gone unnoticed if he hadn’t been sitting close to her. But it’s strange nevertheless to see her, a woman so poised, a woman full of confidence and empathy, show such molecular emotion. Mind blowing

“Look at me. Hey!”

She looks up at him, the twinkle shifting into deep, rooted annoyance. “Yes? Is there anything of significance that you want to tell aside offering a proposition to a complete stranger?”

He’s dumbfounded yet again. “Is that a way to talk to someone? What a potty mouth you have! Do you use it to kiss people?”

She’s the one dumbfounded now, fooled at her own game of ignorance. “Excu.. excuse me! Potty mouth! Me? I’m a polite person, thank you very much. I’m just in tune with reciprocation at the moment.”

He sounds extremely frustrated when he says, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

The companion of the rotten boy clears his throat before she can retaliate, and she gives him her attention for the first time since he sat himself next to his friend. His face is long and droopy, lazy, and his eyes are squinted as if he’s trying to make sense of her tiny figure sitting across. When he speaks, his voice is husky. “Yah, don’t yell. We’re in a library.”

They glare at him, their eyes holding icicles. He huffs. “The last time I’ve been here, the librarian kicked me out for knocking one of his shelves. If he knows that I’m here again, which he will by your loud voices, I’m going to be staked. I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve seen a lot of vampire movies. Staking seems really hurtful.”

They shoot him disbelieved eyes. He puts a hand over his chest. “I have a sensitive heart. A wooden stake will make my delicate organ scar. That’s not good on my resumé.”

The first guy gapes at his friend, whereas she shakes her head in disappointment of being a part of this conversation. She goes back to her work while poking her tongue on the insides of her cheek, trying to restrain her growing fury.

“What?” The tall companion looks at his friend weirdly, “You haven’t seen the resumés I��ve seen online. They have applications out of this world. What if my beautifully intricate heart is required? Don’t want it marred!”

“Why the fuck would anyone ask for an image of your heart, Yeol? What job even requires the internal lookout of your organs?” His friend rebuts.

“How’d I know? I’m not logged in to alljobs.com!”

“Maybe you should, so you’ll be prepared to have a reasonable answer to your dumb shenanigans!”

“Will you both just shut up!” She snaps, smashing her laptop closed (again). They turn to her, blinking. “Why the fuck you’d even sit in front of a person you don’t know and have this conversation while they’re listening?”

They look scorned, cheeks going red. They regretfully look down at their laps, fiddling with their fingers.

“Now,” she exhales from her nose angrily, resembling a red-faced dragon (she doesn’t actually blush, but the running fury that’s gobbling her up leaves her face looking like a swollen tomato). “What the fuck do you want?”

The smaller man opens his mouth to say his demands once again, but she rudely raises an open palm up, squinting. “Speak gently. And slowly. And politely.”

He glares but complies. “I have something to ask of you, a proposition. Actually, you’re not a stranger, at least not as if now. I know who you are.”

She quirks a sharp eyebrow up, unrelentingly and very judgmentally. She’s not the type of person to be swayed over anything, definitely not over this man, too.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re one of the smartest students in our batch, and I kinda have been going through a lot with one of my assignments, so this idiot here told me to ask you for help.” He points to his companion, who salutes mockingly using two of his fingers. “It’s about the aftermath of war, and the effects it leaves on the intermingled classes of eighteenth century China. I’m very bad at writing shit. I confuse my statements; I fail at rearranging my paragraphs; I suck at choosing intellectual perspectives; and I most definitely can’t be on the neutral side to the point of sounding extremely radical. Would you help me write my research? It’s worth a bit of my marks considering I didn’t take the midterm for, ahem, certain reasons,” there’s a soft hue of red that glows in his cheeks, and feeling his blush, he scratches them with his long nails awkwardly.

“No.” The cute color doesn’t deter her at all, and she begins to collect her laptop and books to leave. Or, pretending to. She does not have any thought about leaving, not even when there’s a handsome stranger trying to invade her tranquil space. But, regardless of her wants, such gesture made the man nervous. He snaps his head up, eyes wide, and pushes himself to his feet quickly to stop her from leaving.

“Why not?” He begins to be angry. “Is this because you know who I am? Does my... Does our reputation precedes us?”

She gives him a cooly leveled look. “I only give favors to friends. You’re not a friend. Very simply. I couldn’t care less about your reputation, which does in fact precedes you. People tend to talk about things they don’t understand. The juiciest the gossip, the more people want to talk about it.” She pauses a little, confusedly staring at them. “Don’t you guys know that? When you wear these clothes, pierce all parts of your body, flash all of your tattoos, and walk around intimidating people, they will talk badly about you. Huh, I thought you guys are smart enough to discover this much about the nature of people.”

Whereas he looks startled out of his way with the sincerity in her words, It’s the companion who takes the time to speak. He asks her, his eyebrow raised. “Why’d you think we’re smart?”

She smirks at him, and he’s surprised that it’s actually playful, not malicious. “It’s only those that rebel the constant demands of society that have their heads teetered towards either intelligence, or insanity.” She slings her bag on her shoulder, her face going back to its previous expressionless slate. “Bye now.”

She doesn’t leave. She merely just stands and watches them watching her. It takes the two university boys a second to understand the implications behind her words, and when they do, they groan. They stand up, albeit slowly, and the shorter one dares to shoot her a grumpy, malicious glare, before walking away. The taller one simply tilts his head downwards in a respectable nod before following his friend.

Once they leave, she smiles, and the curl of her lips makes her face radiant, a whole lot flowery than the actual blanket of monochromatic nothingness that usually sticks on her all the time. She sits back down on her seat, opens her laptop, and begins to type again.

-

Oh the long road. Oh the long road. She sighs in her head, her legs heavy and unbalanced, almost sending her to the ground with how weak they feel. After almost six hours in university, with three classes and breaks in between, she’s finally done with all the nonsense that she, daily, has to face. Actually, university hasn’t been on her mind before in high school when she was in her senior year for this exact reason. She is too lazy for something overloaded like university. But, if she is being honest with herself, she doesn’t see herself in any place besides university, especially if she wants to have a ‘decent’ job. So, she tries to succumb to the voice compelling her to move forward, and ignoring the one that tells her to fuck everything and flop on the ground, dead.

A sound calling her name stops her in her long, angry strides, and she turns to the back to see her friend, Sami, waving for her, smiling so preciously that actual stars appear on her eyes. She’s not oblivious to the crowd gathering behind Sami, all males (and some females) staring at her with eyes twinkling with hearts. She reluctantly wave back, and Sami comes running towards her, beaming once she’s standing in front of her.

“You’re heading home?” Her friend asks.

She hums without a verbal consent. Her friend beams again.

“Great!” Sami loops their arms together. “Lets go together, and while we’re on the way, buy me a cocktail.”

“Alcohol this early? And why should I buy you one?” She raises an eyebrow up in ridicule, even though she already knows the answer to her rather dumb question.

Sami rolls her eyes. “No, an actual cocktail, with fruits and all. And you should buy me one because I’m your humble friend who asks nothing of you at all.”

“You ask for things all the time,” she narrows her eyes, and points at Sami’s earrings. “I bought you those earrings,” she points at her bag. “And I bought you this bag. And those shoes. I might as well buy you a house to live in if I’m already this much husband material.”

Sami grins, beaming, and her grip over her arm tightens. “It’d be so great if my future husband actually pays for all of my things. I’ll be a pretty, studious, working housewife that do things for him and accommodate all of his precious needs. Aw, I miss him already.”

“You should be careful not to say this in front of another woman that isn’t me.”

Sami blinks cluelessly. “Why? I didn’t say anything infuriating, did I?”

She pats her head sympathetically, her hand calloused despite the gentle, sardonic gesture. “Not at all. Not at all.”

They walk out of the university’s large grounds with Sami the one doing most of the talking, the bouncing, and the gleeful intervals; her grip tight around her arm, and her soft laughter surrounding them whole. She wouldn’t say that she was entirely comfortable about the concept of having a friend, but it has been two years now since she knew Sami, and she began to understand that in order to enjoy something beautiful, you have to watch it burn first, which’s why she, despite not liking it, disposed herself of her antisocial behavior, and stuck around with Sami.

Upon the huge gates of the university, she catches sight of the two students who had interrupted her morning study with their obnoxious presence. They’re standing in front, one of them - the tall one - is leaning against the large beige wall beside the gates, and the nuisance - the one requesting - is crouching on the floor right beside him, a fake cigar made of paper in between his fingers. They’re already staring at her, anticipating her exit. When her eyes meet the dark ones of the crouching guy, he smirks, his pink lips thin and inviting. He puts the fake paper in his mouth, pretending to inhale, and then pulls it off to exhale loudly, his eyes suddenly half lidded. He’s staring at her. She stares back, then she narrows her eyes, ticking her chin to the side in a silent request for him to look away. His smirk widens, and he doesn’t look away; his eyes invading her soul to the point she feels something scratch at the surface of her skin, begging to be released.

She scoffs. And almost as if he’s hearing her, he waggles his eyebrows teasingly. She blanches, disgusted, and her facial expression catches Sami’s attention.

“Who’re you looking at?” Sami turns to follow her friend’s eyes before she can look away, furrowing her eyes upon seeing the two boys. She turns to her friend curiously; nervously. “Do you... do you know them?”

She’s quick to shake her head, “Nah, I don’t know them outside the rumors that I heard circulating about them. I think one of their names starts with a B? Or an H? Anyhow, I don’t know who they are.”

“Why are they looking at you?”

She shrugs. “Beats me. Probably think I’m a visible, touchable time loop or something. That’d be cool. Have you ever seen Doctor Strange?”

Sami stares at her as if she’s an alien. “What on earth are you talking about?”

She shakes her head. “Never mind. Let’s quicken our pace. Maybe we’ll lose them in the crowd.”

As if hearing their words, the two boys jump to their feet (the one standing merely bouncing around) and they follow after them like two little creeps. They don’t say anything for a while, like announce their already large presence, and she ticks her head backwards with raised eyebrows, meeting their amused - yet frustrated - faces. She tilts her head, silently asking them about what the fuck they’re doing, and the shorter one of the two shrugs, the taller one smirking a little, the cigarette roll that was wrapped around the other’s mouth now in his. She looks away.

Sami notices her friend’s head going forward and backward, and turn around to give them a funny look, a little nervous for some reason. She looks back at her friend and pulls at her sleeve, a frozen smile on her face. “They’re following us.”

“If there’s an ice cube, large enough to have legs and is following me, and the world is so flabbergasted by it’s appearance, but you’re only concerned about taking your way home without interruptions. Would something happen if I gave it attention? No, you know why?“ she leans closer to Sami and with her big, wide eyes, she whispers. “Because it’ll melt away.”

Sami shakes her head in exasperation. Even after two years of being friends with her; she’s never getting used to her random thought processes. Either-way, Sami doesn’t feel entitled enough to say anything against that, and although she releases a little grumble from her chest in irritation at the skin contact, she doesn’t remove her arm away. Smiling, she leans her head on her shoulder.

“Yah. You can’t just pretend we don’t exist.” The shorter one says, or yells really.

His friend scoffs, and it’s strangely shudder-inducing because of his low grating voice. “We’ll follow you home if destiny calls.”

Sami lifts her head to peek at them, then quickly looks at her calm, astute friend. “Are you not going to answer?”

“A bird could constantly peck on my window and I wouldn’t shoo it away. I’m too lazy.”

Sami’s eyes mellow down, and her lips smile. “But that’s exactly what you do, sweetie. You can’t handle disturbances, especially when it affects your general surroundings.”

“You’re right. I’m going to kick their ass.” She stops in her gait, turns around, and glares; Sami stopping next to her. The two university boys pause in their strides, blinking.

“Question, exactly why was I chosen among the high grades receiving bastards in our class?” She raises her eyebrows up. “Is it because you think I’m easy? Or I’m a woman? Is it because you think I’m nice?” She says nice as if it’s a heinous word created for her personal offense.

The boys share a confused look. Then, the tall one clears his throat, readying himself for the paragraph he’s about to spout. “I’ve never once thought you’re easy, and neither have Baekhyun. We’ve seen the way you talked back to the teachers, and man, do you have a temper. I’m actually a bit shaky right now because I’m asking this favor of you. I’m not a misogynist, man. Why’d you make me something I’m not. love women. I love all wonen. Perhaps a little too much,” Baekhyun, the short guy beside him, is nodding his head sadly, “I’d have told Baekhyun to choose Dahyeon if I thought she was as responsible as you are. But the girl’s a klutz. She ruined a paper of mine once. Won’t let her do it again,” he then tilts his head, his confused face getting graver. “I’m sure as fuck you’re not kind, or nice. I wouldn’t have already been going through emotional trauma just by the thought of approaching you, yet, here we are.”

“Here we are.” Baekhyun spreads his arm with a surrendering look flashing on his handsome face.

Sami turns to her friend and analyzes the stone cold expression on her face. She hesitates, for a second, before she says. “They do have a point. You’ve traumatized half of the population in this university.”

“We still have two more years for you to traumatize the rest.” Baekhyun comments cheekily. When she shoots him a glare, he winks. She’s a little surprised. She hadn’t met anyone who winked at her deadly stare-offs. People are terrified of her, not amused of her.

“How many pages do you want your assignment to be? Mine’s going to be a minimum of eight, considering it’s only a meager homework, so I’ll try to shove your own pages between my breaks to save time.”

Their eyes go wide. Baekhyun actually gulps, unprepared for the challenge. “You write eight pages for an assignment worth ten marks?”

She raises her eyebrows. “You’re here begging for help for this stupid assignment, so I guess we’re both pulling up our shits, right?”

He shuts up.

It’s the tall one that answers. “Any page number is fine. Take your pick.”

She nods, “You’ll have five pages, then. I take breaks in between my classes. I have two-to-three classes for five days aside Saturdays and Tuesdays, so we’ll write two pages every week until its due date in three weeks’ time,” she takes her phone and shoves it in the chest of the short guy. “Give me your number so I text you the hours I’m free on. I don’t give a shit if our schedules overlap. When I tell you to come, you come, with your laptop and all of your writing necessities with you. One mistake and you’re out, get it?”

Baekhyun sweats, especially since her expression is deadly serious and her hand, which is still clutching her phone on his chest is cold, deadly so. He gulps anyway and nods. “Thank you, really. Appreciate it. Is there anything I can do for you to repay the favor?”

She smirks, and pulls her hand off of his chest after he accepts the phone. “A bad boy who knows how to say thank you? That’s a new one. And keep the favor until after you deliver your assignment. I’m not sure you’ll wanna give me any favors after I’m done with you. Say, are you willing to pay money?”

He pales. “I’m poor as fuck, ma’am, expected of a university student, right? Please say yes.”

She smirks again, amused of the panic in his eyes. “Relax, idiot. Just wanna check something.” She turns to the tall one. He’s staring right back at her, eyes wide and brown hair fluffy. For a bit, she’s taken aback by the actual fact of how gorgeous he is. Wide, almond eyes, soft hair, tall girth like a skyscraper, and she fucking loves skyscrapers, the taller, the better. He’s wearing a weird mesh of jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket, but he’s also wearing a sweater on top. He must be sweating in there. His wide eyes turn a little confused when she merely gapes at him, and she notices. She clears her throat, and rolls her eyes so the spectators don’t notice she’s a weird bitch.

“What’s your name?” She asks coldly. There’s a strange warmth circulating her body, but of course, she ignores that.

“Sorry?” He splutters.

She lifts a sleek eyebrow up, holding herself from smirking widely. “Your name,” she points at Baekhyun, who’s blinking down at her phone like it’s a foreign industrial scam. “This moron’s Baekhyun. Kinda noticed you mention his name. What’s your name? I’m a bit curious to know about the chaperone’s name, considering they’re always so ignored and unappreciated in movies.”

He looks a bit flustered, as if he hasn’t noticed he has been a chaperone all this time. He wipes the slight vulnerability that flashed earlier, twirls the paper stick in his mouth, and gives her a mock salute. “Chanyeol, ma’am, but don’t bother memorizing it. We wouldn’t be seeing each other enough for the need of that.”

She doesn’t comment on his words even though she’s curious. She merely tells herself he’s as weird as she is, probably a little arrogant, but of course not as her. No one’s as arrogant as her. She sits on the throne of arrogance. Her parents once thought she had narcissistic syndrome, those assholes, but dismissed it later on when she gave them enough evidence she wasn’t. She pays attention to Baekhyun, coughing to alert him of the actual fact he has been taking too much time typing gibberish on her phone, and not his phone number. She swears to God he probably failed to reach her contacts. He looked like a dumb loser up close like that, but she didn’t want to judge him so severely. A guy who winks at her instead of shit his pants must be a dumbass, but again, she doesn’t want to judge.

Baekhyun looks up from her phone upon her cough, smirks his annoyingly attractive smirk, and juggle the phone towards her (after locking it, for some reason) she tries catching her phone, and thankfully she succeeds. She glares, about to scold him about the degrading act of her precious gadget, when he all but announces.

“We’ll go see our own way now. Thank you for such precious moment. Perhaps we’ll be able to create more while avoiding chopped heads, from your part, of course. May the grounds open up to present you with a fortunate gift,” he does a whole theatrics of bowing, while simultaneously taking a step back, bumping into an unamused Chanyeol. “Adios, my lady.”

He turns around to Chanyeol, who whispers something to him. They begin to walk away, and Baekhyun says something to the taller guy, in retaliation, which earns him an eye roll. Not taking this lightly, Baekhyun jumps - to reach the tall giant - so he can wrap his arm around his neck, and pulls him into a headlock. Chanyeol doesn’t fight. He lets himself be dragged like a deadweight doll, like he’s used to such abuse, and she shakes her head. Chanyeol seemed cool with his indifference, but perhaps he isn’t the one in total control here.

Sami calls her softly, and forgetting her only friend for a bit - the two boys have extremely large presence - she turns to her. She offers a small smile, showing a dimple to her left side, and Sami beams.

“I’m not even going to ask what the heck just happened,” she offers her a hand, Sami; and she looks at it weirdly. “Ready to go home?”

Sighing, she accepts the hand, and agrees to be dragged home. Sami looks down at their hands; and thinks a little, her brows going all intersected. She shrugs, cooly intertwining their fingers together. She doesn’t even blink at the gesture, having been used to it. Out of character, the only thing on her mind at the moment is those two, strange university men.

-

Author Note:

So?

We haven’t got anything grounded yet. We still have a lot to cover! The personality of ChanBaek is beautiful, stick to see our dumb yet gorgeous boys.

Also, if you haven’t noticed already, our OC is freaking DANGEROUS! Chanbaek are in for a ride!

[inspirationdivine]

A Bad Hand || Lydia and Beatrice

Timing: Current Parties: @inspirationdivine @beatrice-blaze, and Kevin the stack of leprechauns Summary: Lydia and Beatrice play poker with cards and secrets. Alternatively, a graphical summary

Going back to the Stacked Deck had been strange for Bea the first time. The regulars had plenty of questions for her, ones she had no energy to answer. She shared a nod with Chuck as she slipped in, heading to a table in the corner after getting her drink. She tended to avoid this one, wary of the suspicious player that seemed to frequent it, not wanting to deal with any more leprechauns after her run-in with Kaden. Still, it helped her avoid the more curious people in the hall. Settling into a seat, she crossed her legs as she glanced around the table. The woman next to her was elegant, something Bea could appreciate in a Bend bar. Cutting a glance to the chair hosting the stack of leprechauns, she asked, amused, “Already on a roll, or am I in luck today?” 

“Dealer’s just about to deal, we can make space for you yet,” Lydia replied with a smile, looking up at the woman. She’d seen her before, looking full of life and warmth before, but Lydia usually preferred to play with a more exclusive crowd. Downstairs, occasionally with kittens. That said, there was nothing quite like playing with poorly disguised leprechauns, her skin prickling from the close contact with them. This woman though? Apart from a turtleneck in summer, not much else to comment on her about. “Are you joining?”

Nervous ticks that Bea had kicked years ago were reemerging, fingers tapping against the glass base of her drink. She knew she was safe here, Chuck would never let something happen in the Deck. She had her knife on her, it’s holster pinching into her thigh as a reminder of the easy access she had to it. She was safe here. She curled her fingers into a fist, annoyed that she hadn’t caught the tick before it began. “I think I will. I’ve spent far too long away from the table.” Gambling with money was safe, at least, safer than the gambles she recently made. Arranging her chips, she smiled to the other woman, “I hope nothing too interesting happened when I was gone. Being out of the loop is no fun.”

A nervous player. Lydia didn’t much mind that at all, careful not to show that she’d seen the anxious finger tapping against the table. Then that same hand curled into a fist, an awareness of her nervous habit that held information in its own right. Someone was off their game. All that meant was better odds for Lydia. “Oh, how long? Well, allow me to do quick introductions. I’m Lydia, this is Killian, Jerome, Sarah, and… Robert, I believe?” Lydia said to the patently obvious three leprechauns in a trenchcoat, but that everyone else acknowledged as an individual. A chair was procured for the woman, and the dealer began setting out the cards.

“Oh, at least five weeks. I used to be in here almost every night.” Bea’s disappearance hadn’t been something that others had missed. When she first came back, Chuck had even asked where she had been. And so she had to tell the tale of being in Turkey with her mother and father. A fact that most people could see through if they looked hard enough. She smiled as she sat down in the newly arrived chair,”Lovely to meet everyone. I’m Beatrice, but Bea is fine.” She eyed ‘Robert’ for a moment, before looking back to Lydia. “I can swear I have seen you here before. I’m shocked we haven’t played at the same table before.” She took a sip of her drink before looking at her cards. A bad hand out of the gate. She tried not to think that that was a sign of how the evening was going to go. 

”So we need to watch you then,” Lydia replied, with a wink. “Bea, it’s a pleasure. Although I reserve my right to change my mind on that depending on how the evening goes.” Lydia took her middling hand, let the corner of her mouth quirk in the slightest bit of disappointment, and looked back up to Bea. “ I think you’re right. I’m usually only here once a week. The others aren’t as chatty, but I like to throw them off their game by - raise - talking as we play. So, Bea, what did take you out of town for five weeks? Were you travelling for work?”

A soft chuckle left Bea,“For better or worse, yes, I suppose you do.” Before she had died, she had great control of her ticks, she knew how to read other people, and she was confident in her decisions. Now, she felt new to the table, rediscovering the way she had to play. Her smile only grew as Lydia continued to speak, she liked the way this woman held herself already. It was amusing. “A woman after my own heart. Silent tables are far too boring for me.” Temptation to tell the truth surged in her, but she stifled it. Telling loved ones was one thing. Strangers were a more dangerous game. She settled on a half-truth. “I did something for my sister and then ended up having to deal with the fallout.” She eyed the flop as it came out and weighed the risks of staying in. “Call.” 

Lydia watched the turn being played, and watched two of the others around the table fold. There was a pair in her hand, but the cards on the table weren’t anything of use yet. “Call,” She responded. “Oh, I agree about silent tables. The evening’s as much for socialising as it is anything else. Isn’t that right, Keith?” Lydia turned her eyes to the leprechauns, the top of which grimaced and said something unintelligible, but the chips the second leprechaun on the table pushed forward was a raise by two hundred. Hm, now this would be a game. “I know what that’s like, siblings can be our greatest gifts and our greatest downfalls. I hope it is all resolved now.”

“If I wanted to sit in silence, I stay home or go to a library,” Bea chuckled. “It’s always fun here, rarely a dull night.” She had loved that before, it had always matched her energy after a show. Now she took comfort in the familiarity. Her eyes narrowed as the stack of fae raised. There was no need for her to stay in for that. She let out a soft laugh at greatest downfalls. “Only a few loose ends to tie up and then everything will be in great shape again. Hopefully, things stay quiet for a bit.” She folded, muttering to herself,“God knows that Luce and Nell need some peace.”

“Only disappointing ones,” Lydia chuckled, as the river were revealed and the last round of bets went in. Lydia had two midrange pairs, which was far from terrible, but she wanted to keep it safe for this first round, getting a feel for the other players before the stakes grew too much. Kevin the leprechaun took the round, and Lydia took the next round of cards as they were dealt. A much worse hand. This would be an early fold. “Well, I hope so for your sa-” Lydia caught Bea’s mumble, and her eyes widened. It was her turn to bet. “...Raise. Would that be Lucinda Vural, by any chance?” It couldn’t be. It wasn’t. Lydia was entirely wrong, she had to be. 

Bea took a long drink before looking at her hand. Her lips curled for a quick second as she took in the good hand she had been given. She called after Lydia, looking over at the other woman with a raised eyebrow. So she knew Luce and from the reaction, it didn’t seem that they had a good time together. “Yes, it would be. She’s my younger sister. I’m guessing that you’ve met?” Without realizing it, Bea’s shoulders tensed, uncomfortable with the potential of someone who had issue with her sister next to her. 

Lydia barely heard was the other two players said, and didn’t look down at the flop being played until the lowest leprechaun that was Kevin cleared its throat. Or possibly squawked. Nell Vural had been posting on social media. Luce had been talking to Lydia. A dead sister. Well, if two had been alive then.. “Oh, I think I fold for this round. The cards are not in my favour.” Foolish, she should have never raised to begin with. There was nothing good here for her. Especially when she played against a woman who for all intents and purposes should be dead. Had been dead for an extremely long time. Weeks, from what Lydia had understood from Luce. Vampires and Zombies both rose soon after their deaths, Lydia was so sure of it. “We have. Luce saved my life, not too long ago. I think it will be, oh, three months ago in August?” 

Knowing who Bea’s sister was had obviously shaken Lydia. The witch just didn’t know why. It was interesting to say the least that Luce’s name had garnered such a reaction. She had known people that were intimidated by the middle sister, but she had never experienced something like this. Lydia had seemed like a woman who could keep her poker face on in most circumstances. Bea’s fingers tapped against the base of her drink as she considered Lydia. “It’s lucky that she was there to help you. August?” She turned toward Lydia then, voice lowered,“So you know then?”

“Well, I thought so. It appears your sister isn’t as truthful as I believed. My mistake,” Lydia said, slowly regaining something of a power face as they continued. The sight of Beatrice had short circuited her brain, but if Bea was alive then… She crunched her jaw together. Not only had she been used to torture someone, but the lying snake of a spellcaster had manipulated Lydia’s emotions to make her eager. It made Lydia’s stomach turn. Obviously, Luce had read online somewhere about Lydia’s own sister, and had made up a story to justify her actions to Lydia. Maybe she thought that by lying, Lydia would treat August worse than she might otherwise. Luce had been right, too. “Bea, I believe it’s your turn to bet.”

A soft chuckle left Bea,“She’s the most truthful out of all of us.” Nell and Bea had both lied to each other for years about what magic they had done. “I don’t know how you were involved, but thank you.” Luce wouldn’t have told just anyone about what happened, she knew her sister would never bring someone random in. She looked over to the table again,“Raise.” Throwing her chips in the pot, she turned once again to look at Lydia. Taking a finger, she pulled down the fabric of her turtleneck to show a bit of her scar. “Went through all of that and only got this scar to show for it.”

Folding early should have been a prime opportunity for Lydia to take advantage of being able to read the whole table and get a feeling for  where everyone else was as, without worrying about anyone watching you too closely. To run the maths in her head over and over, and see how other people calculated their odds in return. Instead, she was only looking at Beatrice, like she was struggling to latch her thoughts onto one another. She’d helped with something, certainly, August had suffered as much mentally as physically in the 24 hours he’d been with her, but Lydia hadn’t asked and Luce hadn’t said. She was so flummoxed she missed the opportunity to promise bind Bea, which in turn had Kevin staring at her. The turn, and then the river was played. “I’m amazed you survived such an injury.”

As good as the hand was turning out for Bea, she struggled to focus on it. As they spoke longer, the witch found herself more confused than before. Her sisters had failed to mention everyone who was involved, but she had, at least, expected Lydia to know more than she seemed to. Her head tilted,“Is that what she told you? That I survived?” Logically, Bea knew that it was a bad idea to tell people about what happened, but the caution she once felt was slipping away. Lydia knew enough already, this wouldn’t be groundbreaking.

“No,” Lydia replied, as the round finished. “Quite the opposite. Must have been playing on some personal weaknesses. At least I know better now.” She pressed her lips into a thin smile as she watched the end of the betting round, itching to move past this now and play a real game. Luce must have googled her, found out about Lydia’s own sister, and turned it against her. That was the only explanation Lydia needed, and now she could focus entirely on the game. 

A small smile broke over Bea’s face,“You’re wrong, then, to call my sister a liar.” Perhaps the younger Vurals had failed to tell Lydia that Bea would come crawling back from death. It would explain the confusion. It would be very jarring to be sat next to a woman who was meant to be rotting. “I didn’t survive.” Her voice was low, knowing that the others at the table shouldn’t be aware of the information she was giving Lydia. “Amazing what a good sacrifice can bring back.” 

Lydia swallowed. Then she swallowed again. Her fight or flight reflex kicked in, filling her mouth with toxic saliva without her consent as her heart beat loud in her ears. She looked down at her cards, blinked hard, to push them into memory, but the king and queen of spades suddenly had a deathly pallor, red slits in their throats. Necromancy. One of the worst abominations humans had created. “I see. So it appears. How… fortunate for you.”

Finally, Bea turned away from Lydia, facing back to the rest of the table. She took a sip of her drink, frowning at the now empty martini glass. She’d need to order another. She glanced at her cards, another mediocre set. “My sisters are very loyal, I’m lucky to have people who would go to such lengths to learn my craft and help me return. It wasn’t easy for them.”

“Raise,” Lydia said, before watching the flop being laid. She had a good hand, it was just about playing it, as her stomach churned under Bea’s reveal after reveal. “It certainly was a fitting sacrifice,” she replied curtly. Had Lydia made August pliant to Luce so that she could drag his soul inside out? When Lydia had made him throw himself down the stairs over and over, she’d broken his psyche and his body, but she hadn’t fragmented his soul. Her father had told her about necromancy as a child, when he had gently teased the tangles from his hair. Magics that only came to humans, that demanded balance and suffering. To bring a soul back from heaven or hell, another must be destroyed, never to go anywhere ever again. To bring such suffering on anyone, even a murderous human like August, Lydia could hardly stomach it. One good game, and she was out of here, away from the walking and talking destruction of nature itself. It was wrong in a way nothing else could be. People warned of fae trickster magic, but Lydia could not promise bind without an inkling of consent. Her glamorous only affected herself. It did not pervert nature. “Raise to one thousand dollars.”

Bea hadn’t failed to notice how all the warmth that had once been in their conversation quickly drained away. It made sense that most people wouldn’t enjoy a conversation about necromancy. Still it was a shame, she had thought Lydia was fun company when she had first sat at the table. “I’m glad that you agree. After everything he did, it felt perfect to me.” It tied the loose ends of her death nicely. All that was left was Bea finding that hunter and taking his life too. She wanted to savor that alive and well. Her eyebrows raised as Lydia raised, quietly folding her own hand, not yet willing to follow a raise so steep. Even if it did seem like an odd move. “Confident?” She asked the other woman, though her tone laced the implication of doubt through the word. 

Lydia didn’t reply to that. There was something to be said for people that just loved to keep talking about taboo subjects. Clearly, her cool comments hadn’t deterred Bea, so perhaps her silence would. Lydia certainly hoped so, she was intending to keep her dinner.  “That’s for you to know, isn’t it?” Lydia asked with a wink, then looking to Kevin. All three leprechauns knew she couldn’t lie easily, but all fae were masters of bluffs and truth twisting. The third one gave her a rotten look from the bottom of the trenchcoat. “So Bea, apart from playing poker, what else have you been doing with your newfound freedom?” She asked, the question carrying an edge that had been absent early. Lydia tapped her index distractedly against the table. 

Confidence was easy to find when Bea was focused on necromancy, it was something she knew intimately now. She knew it, in ways, better than she knew the woman she had become when she came back. Now that the conversation had slipped from that, it wasn’t as easy to find a way to answer Lydia. She hadn’t ever struggled to find warm words and hold a conversation before. “I’ve been finding a new main act for my theater. My absence was felt dearly there and I’ve been working double time to right it all.” John, her right hand man, had done wonderfully in holding Illusions up, but without her fire, they no longer had a headliner. “There’s new talent that needs a guiding hand. Otherwise, I’ve been happy to be with my loved ones again.”

Lydia heard the pause before the reply, as the comfort and confidence leached out of Bea. She tilted her head, watching the others fold out of the game. Just her and Kevin left, for the final bidding round. “Your theatre? That is charming. Call.” There it was again, throwing her off her game. Not like she could read Kevin’s facial expressions at all, either way, but she just wanted one decent round without necromancy talk ruining it. Or the walking abomination ruining her ignoring the necromancy. “I’m sure they appreciate your company completely. Was that a challenge, Kevin? Wonderful. Let’s see your cards.” The second Leprechaun revealed two tens, with a two pair hand total. Lydia had a full house, that she showed smugly. “Oh, thank goodness for one thing going well, then.” The next set of cards were laid out. “What kind of shows do you do at your theatre, Beatrice?”

Bea was going to make sure to question her sister about this woman. The witch didn’t necessarily feel unsafe, but there was no ease left now. Lydia had been a part of the process to come back, even if she hadn’t known it. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to talk to Lydia about it, better to leave her in the dark. But then again, Bea had no room to regret what had already passed. “Good hand,” She commented lightly as she watched over the table. She hadn’t been positive that Lydia actually had such good cards. “We have fire dancers, escape artists, magicians. Those who have special talents and a knack for performance tend to find a home in my theater.”

“Ah, so like a circus,” Lydia replied with a smile, catching Bea’s meaning without a blink. “I would have to come see it some time. I do love watching the spectacular.” Feeling better with so many chips in her corner, she picked up her hand and tucked the ace of spades and three of hearts away into the back of her mind before watching the game begin anew. “So, Beatrice-” Lydia stopped, staring at Bea. Remembering what Felix had said about a lady friend. Except, of course, that it couldn’t be, right? The Bea in front of her wasn’t nearing a century in age, she wasn’t fae nor shifter, nor even a palatable form of undead. Felix wouldn’t- Felix wouldn’t have possibly gone for her. He had taste. He was as much fae as she was, as proud and clever and- Lydia swallowed. Beatrice wasn’t a common name, but it wasn’t impossible that there were a couple walking around White Crest. He wouldn’t have gone for a woman like this. Surely. “Felix. Doyle. Do you know him?”

As much as Bea wanted to tell her it was not a circus, she couldn’t. She had performers that called them a circus, even if we preferred the term theater. Usually, Bea would have offered a good seat to someone who wanted to come and view the show, but she found her quiet. She tilted her head at Lydia, what an odd and out of the blue question. “Felix Doyle happens to be my boyfriend. I take it that you know him. Are you friendly?” Felix knew so many people in this town, but still, it surprised her every time someone knew him and she didn’t know them as well. 

“We’re good friends,” Lydia replied with a smile that made her feel almost as sick as actually speaking the lie. She looked back to the table, swallowing down the rising bile. This was so much worse than Deirdre. Lydia had only just found a dead lampade, made dead by a spellcaster. Somehow that bloody corpse turned her stomach less than the though of Felix with a human. Worse, with this human. Not undead like Morgan, but a monstrosity, not meant to exist at all. “I care about him deeply. More than I entirely know how to put in words.” Which made the thought of him sinking to such lows even worse. Beatrice was wrong, human hubris incarnate, how could he even consider it? He was a beautiful being, charismatic as hell, he could have had anyone he wanted, and instead he stooped to this. How could he ever denigrate himself like this and look in the mirror and call himself fae? It felt like a betrayal of her affections to the extreme, to even consider this.  Lydia put her hands down on the table sharply, looking around at everyone with a practiced ease that made her skin burn. “My apologies, everyone, but I’m folding and I think I’m done for the evening. I’m not at my best, and that is not fair on any of you.” She stood up, picking up her neat stack of chips, and left without even trading them in. 

More than I entirely know how to put in words. Those words would have warmed Bea if they came from anyone else. To know the man she loved was loved back by the people around him made Bea happy in most circumstances. He deserved all the love he could get. Still, this felt more than a little awkward. Had she just met one of Felix’s exes? Or someone who just didn’t want to see him with other people? She stared after Lydia for a moment, trying to understand what the hell had happened since she sat at this table. Shrugging, Bea decided to let her questions rest for now, she could ask them to the people who knew Lydia later. “Well, that’s unfortunate, she seems like she’s fun. Anyhow, I’ll raise.”

[allisondraste]

Temperance 38/42

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:   Kirkwall is a bit of a shithole, isn't it? Nathaniel receives unhappy news from Ferelden.

Notes: I'm baaaaaaack (after what feels like forever of Not Finishing The Damn Chapter (tm), and I have the absolute actual final flashback chapter. From here on out everything is after 9:31 Dragon. It feels quite surreal.Thank you all for being patient and sticking with me! I've had a lot going on this month with an online class from HELL, conferences, presentations, and internship matching. Things are quieting down though, so hopefully the next chapters will be coming up much more quickly!

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

[AO3 LINK]

Kirkwall, 9:30 Dragon

Kirkwall was a bit of a shithole, at least that was the common thread if one listened to the Low Town locals talk for long enough.  The wealthy nobles and merchants perched in their High Town mansions, peering down upon those beneath them as if their city had not been built upon the backs of slaves.  Slavery had been abolished in the Free Marches for many years, and yet Kirkwall, with its countless weeping statues, could not escape from under the weight of its own history.

The city-state was not even making an obvious attempt to do so, with its legal and religious epicenters housed in a place fondly called “The Gallows.” It was ironic that such a place would be the seat of the Grand Cleric in the Free Marches, and astounding that the average people and peasants did not burn the exuberant, overly wealthy Chantry to the ground in frustration. They were certainly a devout lot, Nathaniel thought as he watched two Templars enter what was definitely a brothel. Completely incorruptible.  Shaking his head, he sighed and followed after them.

The Blooming Rose was large, lively, and bustling with people from different walks of life.  Templars— of course— merchants, city guards, common folk, and nobility sat at tables nursing drinks from large tankards.  Impassioned cries echoed from every corner, accompanied by other sounds that would have caused alarm anywhere but a brothel.  Fortunately, it did not smell quite as horrible as the last one Nathaniel had been in, not that he made a habit of going to brothels.  

He glanced around the room, scanning the patrons for signature red hair and rosy cheeks, still furious with himself that such a large, loud, clumsy man snuck away from him.  Of course, he wasn’t Ben’s keeper, and he was welcome to do what, or who, he pleased. Still, the boy was so naive and trusting that it was dangerous for him to roam a place like Kirkwall alone.  It would have been so easy to take advantage of him.

“Can I help you, young man,” shouted the thickest Kirkwall accent Nathaniel had ever heard.  He snapped his head to the direction of the voice, and to the smirking middle-aged woman with grey hair leaning against the bar.  The madam, he presumed. “You look like you have some coin burning a hole right through those pretty pockets of yours.”

Looking down and patting his mostly empty pockets, Nathaniel replied with a smirk of his own.  “My pockets are fine, my lady.”

The madam chuckled and approached him.  “Well then, what brings you to this fine establishment?”

“I am looking for a man.”

“We have plenty of men,” she answered, raising her eyebrows, “If that is what you fancy.”

“No,” he stated tersely, “I am looking for a friend of mine.  He’s large, red-headed, almost too friendly.”

“Ah.  Him.” She nodded. “He is currently with one of my girls.  You will have to wait.”

“Great.”

“If you need a way to pass the time, I’m sure I can find you some… entertainment.”  She smirked again and tilted her head at him, as if she were expecting him to change his mind.  

“I prefer not to pay.”  Nathaniel hadn’t slept with anyone at all in over a year.  There were a few drunken, meaningless nights after Erina left, nights he wished he could take back.  It was difficult to be interested in mimicking intimacy with strangers. He wanted— no, needed— something real, someone he cared about.  “It’s not for me.”

The madam blinked a few times before shrugging. Clearly she was not accustomed to disinterest. ”Suit yourself, doll.”

She walked away and Nathaniel moved to lean against the bar.  Ben would be down shortly, then they could head to Viscount’s Keep, complete their errand for Rodolphe, and leave this Maker forsaken city.  Just as he relaxed and eased his elbows down on the counter, a loud thud rang out from a far corner of the room, followed by several gasps as a hush fell over the place.  A man, a wealthy merchant by the looks of his doublet, lay prostrate on the ground, a smaller form standing above him, booted foot planted firmly on the small of his back.  

“What did I ever do to you, knife-ear,” the man yelped, his slur causing the figure to press down on his back with more force as they twirled a dagger skillfully in their fingers.  

“Nothing personal,” the figure answered. “My boss took care of some business for you, and you didn’t pay.  I’m here to make certain you do.”

“I’ll pay! I’ll pay!”  The man on the ground squirmed and cried.

“Add in an extra sovereign and I will forget you called me knife-ear, yes?”

“Fine,” he hissed, reaching into his pocket and setting a coin purse on the ground with a grunt of effort. “Take it all.”

The mercenary removed their foot from the man’s back, kneeling down to pick up the coin purse.  The merchant seized the opportunity to pick up a chair, intending to swing it at his unaware opponent. Nathaniel rushed forward and caught the chair before the blow landed against the mercenary’s back.  The merchant glared at him in disbelief, glancing around the room for support. When no one offered assistance, he huffed, released the chair and stormed out of the room.  

“I did not require assistance,” the mercenary remarked as Nathaniel set down the chair.

“You’re welcome,” he replied dryly, turning around, freezing as he did so, mouth falling open.  He thought he recognized the voice, but he’d shaken it off. There were many women with Antivan accents, of course.  However, looking down to see Erina’s beautiful features scowling up at him proved him wrong entirely. To his relief, she looked just as shocked as he was.

“Nathaniel,” she said his name as if it were an accusation, as if he weren’t supposed to be there.  She looked around the room. “What are you doing in a brothel? In Kirkwall?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he spat, unable to hide the raw emotions. “What happened to hiding in Ferelden?”

“It didn’t work out,” she answered, words clipped, heavy. “It’s a bad time to be in Ferelden.”

“Why? What happened?” Nathaniel clenched his fists at his side, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her arm.  

Erina snapped her gaze up to his abruptly, eyes widening as if she had just remembered something important.  Her brows pressed together and she offered him an apologetic expression he didn’t understand. “We need to talk.”

“All right.”

“In private,” she clarified, “You would not appreciate me if I told you in the middle of a whorehouse.”

“Very well, where to? I need to make sure Ben knows where to find me.”

“I have a room at the Hanged Man in Low Town.  There is a nosy dwarf next door, but he is polite enough to be discreet in his eavesdropping .”

Nathaniel nodded and headed back over to the bar, leaving a note for Ben with the bartender and paying him a few coppers to relay the message.  He then returned to Erina and followed her out of the brothel.

As they left, Nathaniel brushed shoulders with two dark haired women, sisters undoubtedly.  One scowled in annoyance and the other followed along behind her, a worried look on her face.

“Sister, is it really necessary to search the brothel?” The worried woman dipped her voice low as she said the last word.

“Completely necessary, Bethany,” remarked the annoyed woman, “Uncle Gamlen has locked us out of the house again. It is not safe for Mother to stand outside for hours in Low Town.”

“But don’t you know how to pick locks?”

“That is… beside the point.” The annoyed woman stormed ahead inside the building, the one named Bethany sighing as she entered and the door swung closed behind her.

Erina led Nathaniel through narrow alleyways and down the many steps that led to Low Town and the the rather popular tavern that was the Hanged Man.  As they entered the wood-paneled building, the warm glow from the fireplace and heavy smell of mead filling the room, he did his best to ignore his pounding heart, to pretend that seeing Erina was not difficult for him, awkward, uncomfortable. Nothing had changed since she had chosen to end their relationship.  He still loved Liss, the words from her letters burned into his mind even as they’d dissolved into ash. Still, he regretted how things ended with Erina, and he regretted even more that he had not been able to protect her from whatever happened in Ferelden.

Her room was small and modestly furnished, and looked to be barely lived in, as if she had only just arrived or as if she was rarely there at all.  She closed the door behind them and gestured for Nathaniel to sit in one of the wooden chairs by a small, round table. She sat in the other directly across from him.  The air between them was heavy and deathly silent. For a moment, he worried if she could hear his heartbeat as he could.

Nathaniel inhaled sharply and spoke.  “Are you going to tell me what is going on, or should I start guessing?”  She looked up at him and he smiled to show he was teasing.

Erina laughed quietly and shook her head.  “I actually intended to sit here and stare at you in painful silence.”

“Whatever you need, my lady.”

“I’ve missed you, Nate,” she said without a hint of embarrassment crossing her face. “There have been many times over the past— what is it, almost two years— when I wished I had stayed with you in Starkhaven.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he admitted, forcing his words past the lump in his throat.  “What happened in Ferelden, Erina?”

“Well,” she began with an empty, bitter  laugh, “My mother was killed before I even made it home.”

“The Crows?” Nathaniel, again, fought the urge to reach for her.

“That was my first thought, but no.  Just some human noble prick who believed he was entitled to my mother’s company.”  She cringed as the last word left her lips, but continued, “Apparently it isn’t uncommon for minor lords to take what and who they please from the Alienage.”

”I am so sorry.”

“Me too,” she answered tersely, “I wish that were the worst of the story.”

“What else happened?”

“My father and I did our best to go on without my mother.  I became somewhat of a protector for my family. I have two younger cousins, one in particular whose attitude gets her into trouble. Throw-bottles-at-the-arl’s-son trouble.”

Erina paused and shook her head. “Early in this year, she and my other cousin were arranged to be married to people from outside our alienage.  Everyone was excited, preparing flowers, they met their partners for the first time. I remember I was helping Shianni put on her dress, scolding her for complaining, when the humans showed up, Vaughan Kendells and his friends. They burst into our home, knocked my father unconscious, and demanded that Shianni and I, as well as several other women come with them.  We were to be ‘entertainment’ for their ‘party.’ ”

“That is repulsive,” Nathaniel spat, “I take it you refused?”

“I may have made a veiled threat or two,” she explained, her attempt to lighten the mood dampened by the sadness in her eyes.  “One of his men hit me in the head. I woke up later, locked in a room at the Arl’s estate with the other women they took. It is honestly a blur what happened after that.  I only remember that I somehow escaped and killed Vaughan before he could hurt Shianni.”

“You killed Vaughan Kendells,” Nathaniel remarked, surprised, “And you’re still alive?”

“I spent months imprisoned in Arl Urien’s basement.  It was the only way for the others to escape.”

“How did you get out?”

“That—“ Erina hesitated and looked about the room— “Is what I need to talk to you about.  While I was imprisoned, I began to notice a change in the guards. Men who previously wore the crest of the Kendells family began to wear a brown bear on their shields and breastplates. I recognized it right away, remembered you showing it to me when we were together.”

Nathaniel’s heart dropped to his stomach, and he leaned back in his chair.  “What? What happened?”

“I only know what I heard while I was in my cell, and what I have gathered since I was freed, but Grey Wardens contacted King Cailan regarding a threat of a Blight in the South.  He led the armies of Ferelden into battle along with the Wardens, but against Teyrn Loghain’s advice. He was killed in battle along with most of the Grey Wardens. Rumor has it that Loghain quit the battlefield with his own soldiers, abandoning Cailan and the Wardens.  He denied those claims, blamed the Grey Wardens and declared treason before proclaiming himself Anora’s regent. Your father was the first to pledge loyalty to him, and was granted the arling in Denerim ”

“That sounds like my father.” Nathaniel rolled his eyes, but then frowned. “For Teyrn Loghain to take such drastic measures, it must have been serious.”

“I am unsure what to believe,” Erina stated with a sigh, “As soon as I was released, it was quite obvious that there was a Blight.  There were darkspawn everywhere. I do not know if you have been to the docks, Nathaniel, but refugees from Ferelden have poured into Kirkwall steadily over the past year.”

“I wasn’t aware, no,” he answered, distracted by the rush of thoughts that filled his mind.  “You said you were released. Why? Who released you?”

“I do not know her name.  A young woman, a Grey Warden, and her companions.”  

Nathaniel flinched. “A traitor? And my father just let her stroll into the dungeon and release prisoners?”

Erina swallowed hard.  “He did not let her, Nathaniel. She killed him.”

“Of course,” he said through his teeth, “That is what traitors do, isn’t it? Kill people in their own homes.”

“I thought you hated your father.” She tilted her head at him, clearly confused by his reaction.

“That doesn’t mean he deserved to die,” he blurted, “And what of my sister and brother? Are they dead too?”

“I… do not know,” she answered with a shrug, “The last I heard out of Ferelden is that the Grey Warden who freed me went on to depose Loghain and stop the Blight.  They are calling her the Hero of Ferelden.”

“I thought Grey Wardens were supposed to be apolitical.”

“Not this one.  She helped Anora to reclaim her title, and in turn the Queen…” Erina trailed off.

“What?”

“The Hero of Ferelden is now the Arlessa of Amaranthine.”

Nathaniel stood up abruptly, causing his chair to scrape across the floor and the table to rattle at the movement. It made no sense.  Why would Queen Anora reward the woman who her father called traitor? Why would she grant her an arling of a man she murdered in his own home? Why must Nathaniel’s whole family suffer, at least whatever remained of his family? He’d fully intended to never return to Ferelden, but now he had no choice. As soon as word reached Starkhaven about the ruin of the Howe family, it would dishonor Rodolphe to have Nathaniel in his service. Even if the knight were to allow him to stay, he could not simply allow this injustice to go unaddressed. Perhaps there was more to the story than Erina was able to tell him.  He needed to see for himself and at the very least search for his siblings.

“I am sorry to be the bearer of such bad news,” Erina said softly, “I am worried that you will begin to remember me only for hurting you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied bluntly. He was too upset, too overwhelmed to be gentle with her.  “I am glad you told me.”

“What are you going to do now?”  She stood up as she spoke, pushing her chair in toward the table.

“I am returning to Ferelden.  As soon as possible.” His words were decisive, certain. “I need to send word to Rodolphe.  Do you have parchment and ink?”

Erina nodded and walked over to her nightstand, opening a drawer and pulling out the requested items, setting them down on the table without speaking.  He caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes and he wondered which of his words had caused them. He had barely conveyed sympathy for what had happened to her.  Andraste’s blood, he couldn’t think straight.  

Sitting back down, he pulled the parchment, inkpot, and quill over to him, and hastily scrawled out a message. He could feel Erina’s gaze burning into him as he wrote.

Ser Rodolphe,

I regret to inform you that I will no longer be continuing under your mentorship.  I have received word that my father has been murdered and my family’s reputation tarnished.  I do not wish to be a burden or mark on your name. I intend to return to Ferelden and set things right, at least in whatever way I am able.

I appreciate your guidance and hospitality over the years, and apologize for any inconvenience this causes you.

Sincerely,

Nathaniel

He folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope and wrote Rodolphe’s name on the front.  He would send it with Ben, and then head south, return home, perhaps even get his revenge on the Grey Warden who destroyed his family.  

He was drawn from his rumination by a light touch to his arm, bringing his eyes up to see Erina.  She had a worried look on her face, tears still in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said again, and Nathaniel turned to face her directly.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he assured her, more gently than before,  “I should be apologizing to you. It sounds like you’ve had a difficult couple of years.  I regret that I couldn’t have protected you from it all.”

“It was my choice to leave.” She smiled and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not your responsibility.”

“I regret that as well,” he said against his better judgement, reaching up to brush an errant strand of hair from her face.  He let his fingertips linger on her cheek before dropping his hand to his side.  

“Nathaniel,” Erina warned, voice low.

“I know.”  He cleared his throat and looked away from her, down at the wooden floorboards. He could not fall back into old habits of seeking comfort in her.  He was afraid, angry, and alone. He missed her, but it was still inappropriate. “I apologize.”

She nodded her thanks and leaned forward to take one of his hands in hers and squeeze it gently.  They shared a moment of silent recognition of everything they had together, and everything they lost.  She would always be special to him, despite all the damage done.  

“By the way,” he said, breaking the silence, “I will not only remember you for hurting me.  All you’ve ever done is try to help.”

“I am glad to hear it, truly.”

A knock rang out at the door suddenly, loud and impatient.  “Nate,” asked Ben’s voice, “Are you there? I got your note.”

Erina smiled mischievously and moved to open the door.   “Hello Ser Benedict,” she chirped playfully.

“I’m no Ser yet, but thank—” his initial bashful blush turned into confusion and surprise as he realized to whom he was speaking—”Ri?”

“The one and only.”

“I’ve missed you,” Ben said as he gathered her up into a hug, and then turned to look at Nathaniel, “Are you two…?”

Simultaneously, Erina and Nathaniel protested repeatedly, making certain that Ben understood that they were not together again.  After far too many innuendoes and suggestions, they both gave up, determined to allow him to think whatever he wished of them. It was only then that it dawned on Nathaniel that he would have to explain to the younger man that he was leaving.  He would not take the news well at all. Glancing at Erina for support before turning his attention to Ben, Nathaniel picked up the letter for Rodolphe and extended it to him.

“What’s this,” he asked as he took the envelope.

“A letter.”

“I know that much, but why are you giving it to me?”

“I need you to deliver it to Ser Rodolphe.”

Ben looked at Nathaniel curiously, frowning and furrowing his eyebrows.  “Are you not coming back to Starkhaven?”

“No,” Nathaniel said, attempting to hide the emotion behind the answer.

“Any particular reason?”

“I have to return to Ferelden.  It is a family matter.”

“I see.”  Ben’s answer was clipped and he clamped his mouth shut, jaw stiffening.

“I am sorry it is so abrupt, I—” Nathaniel was interrupted by Ben’s large arms wrapping around him, squeezing as tightly as he could.

“You have to do what you have to, Nate,” Ben remarked cheerfully as he released Nathaniel from the embrace, “I’d ask you to write to me, but considering your challenges with correspondence, I know better.”

“I will write to you as soon as I get things sorted,” Nathaniel said, seriously, “I promise.”

“You better, you arse.”

With one final glance and nod at Erina and Ben, he left the Hanged Man and headed for the docks.  For better or worse, he was returning to Ferelden. Perhaps he would be lucky enough to live to write to Ben, and to see him and Erina both in happier times.  Of course, he had no expectations, but he needed to hope. It was all he had left.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Christmas Eve With You (Let It Snow)

Summary: It's Christmas Eve in Lima Ohio, and Kurt has a lot to do: find the perfect gift for his dad, make a life changing decision, and--after an unexpected turn of events--escort pop star Blaine Anderson around town. You know, the usual...Based off of Netflix's Let It Snow

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy Kwanzaa to you all!! I personally celebrate Christmas and it's my favorite holiday and I've never written a Christmas Rom-Com AU so I decided last minute to write one lol. Relatively short, part one today, part two to come hopefully before the New Year!

Read on AO3

***

Congratulations!

We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts. With an acceptance rate of less than 4%, NYADA is one of the top tier schools for those wishing to perfect their

Kurt tore his eyes away from the page and slowly drew in a deep breath. He didn’t need to keep reading. He had practically memorized the damn thing in the first hour he opened the envelope. He began folding up the acceptance letter for what must have been the hundredth time and opened his desk drawer, tucking the letter underneath some old papers where his dad would never find it.

He pulled on his coat and any other winter wear necessary to make the freezing train ride to the swap meet bearable.

He would probably come home later and read the letter just one more time, scouring it to see if it had the answer he needed, but right now he had an elf to find.

***

“I’m looking for a Townhouse Moments Christmas Elf number forty-three.” Kurt explained to the man at the swap meet while this year’s crappy pop Christmas song played on in the background. “I ordered it online ahead of time, but they gave me number forty-two.”

The vendor simply looked at him with an almost bored (and definitely condescending) expression. “Listen, kid. You and every other collector out here are looking for this guy, and I don’t have him. You’re not gonna find it. Not on Christmas Eve.”

Kurt sighed, the background song seeming even more annoying than usual. Seriously, the swap meet couldn’t find any holiday music better than some lame Blaine Anderson single? “Look, I really need this figurine. My dad’s Christmas kind of depends on it.” He explained desperately.

The vendor shook his head. “Like I said, I can’t help you.”

Kurt angrily huffed and shoved the figurine he’d brought with him back in his pocket. “Merry Christmas,” he muttered under his breath before heading back to the train station.

At least the train had a stop near the Lima Bean. There was nothing quite like sitting with a warm cup of coffee in your hands while watching the snow fall down through the frosted windows.

***

Blaine stepped up from the platform onto the train, immediately searching for a seat in an area that wouldn’t be too crowded. He rarely got a chance to walk through the world without being gawked at like some Zoo animal, and he wasn’t about to have that ruined by an overexcited fan.

It’s not that he wasn’t grateful for everything his fans provided him, but sometimes it got to be a bit much and he needed a moment to just… retract from all the pandemonium.

He finally spotted a somewhat secluded area and headed towards it. Before he could make it, though, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out from behind him.

Blaine sighed before reluctantly turning around to face a boy, probably around his age, with pale skin and a nose slightly pinked by the cold they both just entered from.

The boy looked slightly startled, as if he had just realized who Blaine was, but remained calm.

“Look,” Blaine started. “I really don’t feel like taking any pictures right now.”

The boy pursed his lips and glared at Blaine. He then extended his hand out and Blaine looked down to see he was just returning his phone that must have fallen out of his coat pocket.

“You dropped this,” the stranger said with a bit of sting in his voice as he shoved the phone back into Blaine’s grasp.

“Oh,” Blaine replied lamely. “Sorry, I—“

Mystery boy scoffed and held up a hand to silence him. “Don’t bother.” He muttered, then turned around to find a seat.

Fair enough, Blaine thought.

Just as Blaine was about to head back to find a seat of his own, the boy whipped around, apparently not quite done with him yet. “And by the way,” he began. “You don’t even know anything about me. I don’t care for your trashy pop music, I’m not one of your Blaineiacs who swoons at just the mention of your name, and I’m definitely not the type of person who would just throw myself at someone just because they’re famous.”

“I never said—“

Once again, Blaine was cut off, but not by the (admittedly attractive) boy. The train suddenly jerked forward and the momentum sent the strange boy flying backwards into Blaine’s unsteady arms.

Blaine felt his breath hitch, caught off guard by the suddenness of it all. He looked down and caught the boy’s gaze, realizing he had some of the clearest crystal blue eyes Blaine had ever seen. Awesome. The universe throws a super cute guy into your arms and it’s someone who thinks you’re a complete asshole.

As soon as it happened, it was over. Before either of them knew it, the train was on its way, steady enough so that the pale boy had the balance necessary to shoot himself out of Blaine’s arms like a repelling magnet.

His face flushed bright red and he gaped at Blaine for a moment. “I–That wasn’t—that was the train,” he said in a huff before whipping around and heading to his seat on the other side of the train car.

Blaine followed him with his eyes the entire time.

***

Not even ten minutes into the ride, Kurt felt the train slowly come crawling to a stop. “No,” he pleaded under his breath. “Please, no, we’re so close to the Lima Bean,” he whined.

But sure enough, the conductor’s voice came over the intercom and loudly announced that the train would be stalled indeterminately due to the recent snowfall.

Kurt sighed and looked longingly out the window towards the Lima Bean. This was ridiculous, he could see the rooftop to his favorite coffee shop just over the snow-covered hill. There was no reason he couldn’t make it there without incident.

He drew in a steadying breath before standing up and heading towards the doors. Unfortunately, before he could completely escape the defective cab, another figure came up in front of him and unintentionally blocked his path.

It so happened to be none other than the Blaine Anderson. Of course it was Blaine. Of course it was the idiot celebrity who thought everything revolved around him.

“You headed to that coffee shop, too?” Blaine asked without turning back to look at Kurt, using his clover hand to block out the morning sun as he stared off into the distance.

Anderson only kept trucking on forward as Kurt followed his lead—coincidentally, of course.

“I’m not following you,” he felt compelled to say. “I also just want a decent cup of coffee.”

Blaine gave him a charmingly warm smile and hopped off the platform into the soft snow. “Of course. Then, I suppose, you wouldn’t mind keeping me company.”

Kurt followed his lead and hopped off the train, beginning to trudge through the snow after Blaine—again, completely by chance that they were headed in the same direction.

“Fine. Just know that this is completely coincidental!”

“Deal.”

***

“Deal,” Blaine said. “So, uh, do I get your name? I mean, it’s only fair since you already know mine.”

“Yeah, because everybody knows your name, right?”

“I–no-! That’s not what I meant…”

The pale boy narrowed his eyes slightly at him and looked him up and down like he was deciding whether or not to trust him. “Kurt,” he finally answered. “Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine extended his hand out and Kurt stared at it for a second before taking it. “Blaine Anderson—because I’m not going to assume anybody knows my name anymore.” Blaine noticed the corner of Kurt’s mouth twitch up, barely noticeable. “Nice to meet you, Kurt.”

They walked on for a few moments in silence before Kurt spoke up again. “Why did you even take the train into town?” He asked.

Blaine shrugged. “I wanted to get away from the tour bus for a while. It felt real being in there. Surrounded by real people.”

Kurt chortled. “If the train made you feel real, the Lima Bean is gonna blow your mind.”

***

Kurt and Blaine stood in front of the long awaited coffee shop, both staring up at the broken and incomplete sign at the top of the building. The worn out block green letters should have obviously spelled out “LIMA BEAN”, but time and weather had taken out the L.

“Say it to yourself,” Kurt instructed Blaine. “Out loud.”

“Ima Bean?” Blaine said questioningly.

“I’m A Bean.” Kurt said dismally. “Because nobody in this town is—or ever will be—anything but a tiny bean in the universe… at least, that’s what we would say growing up.”

“That’s… morbid.”

Kurt simply shrugged before heading in through the doors. “It’s the truth,” he grumbled, remembering the letter burning a hole in his desk drawer and knowing he could never ever let it see the light of day again.

The Lima Bean was empty for the time being, but Kurt knew it would be filled with McKinley high teens in no time.

The couple silently made their way to the counter and Blaine took note of the barista who was… not exactly someone he imagined to be working at a coffee shop, but a job was a job he supposed. The barista had his head down, showcasing his unique haircut (a mohawk) while he began to take their orders.

“Welcome to the Lima Bean,” he sighed before slowly upturning his head. “What can I…” Just as Kurt had expected, Puck’s eyes grew wide upon seeing Blaine. “Get for you today…”

“Uh, Puck.” Kurt started timidly. “This is Blaine… I didn’t expect you to be here, I thought you’d be preparing for your long awaited Christmas Eve Rager?”

Puck pouted. “Uh, yeah… so my parents flight was delayed ‘cause of the snow, and they caught me setting up for the party. Decided I should come to work instead. But!” He held up his index finger and his face lit up. “I convinced Sam to let me have it here! So if you’re free tonight, just come on down to I’m A Bean.”

Kurt stifled a laugh at his friend’s wild antics. “Sure thing, Puck. Though, at this point,” he jerked his head towards Blaine. “I don’t know where this day will take me.”

“Been there… anyways, what’ll it be?”

***

“Order for Kurt!” Puck called out.

It was both their orders, but they’d decided it’d be best if they didn’t use Blaine’s name. It turned out to be a good call considering the fact that a group of Titans and Cheerios walked in as soon as Kurt and Blaine sat down.

Kurt got up and shortly returned with their coffees and pastries.

“Are you going to actually finish all that?” Kurt asked, referring to the small mountain of food Blaine had ordered including a tomato and mozzarella panini, a snowman cookie, a breakfast biscuit, and his medium drip.

“Yeah, I don’t like to waste food. It’s like a charity thing for me.” At Kurt’s unamused look, Blaine rolled his eyes and gave his real explanation. “We uh, didn’t grow up with a lot. It feels kind of wrong to throw out a meal when I remember the days we didn’t get one.”

After a moment of processing, “Oh…” was all Kurt could pathetically offer, suddenly feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.

Here he’d been, making assumptions about Blaine when he really didn’t know anything about him. Kind of the way certain football players would do to Kurt.

Okay, so Blaine had kind of come off as a presumptuous dick, but now Kurt realized he himself was making that same mistake.

He watched as Blaine took a bite of the panini and the too full sandwich overflowed with cheese into Blaine’s upper lip. Kurt giggled. “You’ve got a little…” he pointed to his own mouth, trying to point out the stained area on Blaine’s face.

Blaine stuck out his tongue, but completely missed the area. “Did I get it?”

“Not at all,” Kurt laughed again. “But I’ll go grab you some napkins, your royal highness.”

As Kurt was standing up, Blaine opened his mouth to contest before noting the playful look on the other boy’s face.

“And add some more creamer to this bad boy while I’m up,“ He said, gesturing to his half full coffee.

Kurt was nearly to the condiment table when a hauntingly familiar figure blocked his path.

“Where you going off to, fairy boy?”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Azimio,” Kurt scoffed, trying to side step his long time tormentor.

Azimio followed Kurt’s move, leaving him in the same position he was not a moment ago. “Heard my boy Karofsky’s got a boyfriend over at Thurston high now.”

“Good for him.”

“That’s the farthest thing from good, my man. If it weren’t for you turnin him gay, we’d still have a winning offensive line.”

“I really don’t have any time for this,” Kurt lamented.

“Not so tough without your army brother to protect you, huh?”

Kurt opened his mouth to explain that he didn’t need anyone to protect him, but was immediately silenced by Azimio suddenly slapping the cup out of Kurt’s hand. Kurt flinched as lukewarm coffee splattered around him, the majority of it spilling right on his shirt.

“That’s for turning my best friend into a homo.”

“Hey!” Puck called from behind the counter. “Get out of here!”

“I am a paying customer!” Azimio argued.

“Read the sign, dickwad. Right to refuse service to anyone. That includes no good Lima Losers like yourself!”

Azimio rolled his eyes and angrily stormed out of the store.

As Kurt looked down his stained shirt, he could feel Blaine’s horrified stare burning right through his back. “Oh my god, Kurt. Are you okay?”

He turned around to face the other boy, still shaking with rage and that twinge of humiliation he always felt after scenes like this, no matter how hard he tried to push it down.

“You wanted real?” Kurt asked, feeling tears he would never let Azimio and Langanthal see begin to burn behind his eyelids. “How’s this? Only out gay kid in the entire town gets harassed on a daily basis—even publicly, as you just saw—finally gets an out when he gets into his dream school, and can’t even go because his dad is too sick to be left alone!”

Blaine reached out to place a comforting hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “Kurt—“

Before Blaine could finish his sentence, Kurt heard the table full of Cheerios become more chatty than usual, and he came to a startling realization. He quickly turned around, scanning the table to see that several of the McKinley High cheerleaders were whispering to each other and pointing at Blaine.

“Shit,” he muttered before facing Blaine again. “Restroom, back window,” he ordered as the head Cheerio stood up from the table and made a beeline towards them.

“What?”

“Just go!” Kurt ordered nudging Blaine in the right direction.

Blaine finally seemed to notice the onlookers and started to quickly walk towards the bathroom as one of the cheerleaders walked right behind Kurt.

He spun around to face her, a fake smile on his face. “Hello, there Satan—Santana!”

“Was that... Blaine Anderson?” She asked brusquely, staring down Kurt and crossing her arms.

Kurt raised his eyebrows before turning his head behind him to check that Blaine had made it to the impromptu escape route. He turned to Santana again and sighed, throwing his hands out in defeat. “Yes,” he said, feigning a trenchant dismay. “You caught me. Blaine Anderson is here, with me, at the I’m A Bean …” Kurt scrunched up his nose and smiled wryly at her. “And if you wait a few more minutes, I’m pretty sure TuPac is going to start a flash mob!”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. As she turned around her perfectly cooked ponytail nearly whipped him right across the face.

He watched her take a seat with the rest of the Cheerios and let out a sigh of relief before heading out to go find Blaine.

***

Blaine writhed and squirmed with all his might, but still wasn’t able to get enough momentum to hoist himself out of the window. He lay on his back, the top half of his body exposed to the bitter cold while the bottom half was stuck in the warmth of the I’m A Bean. The opening wasn’t big enough for him to turn around to get on his stomach. In that position, he could easily reach out for something and just pull himself out.

He he was straining to reach for the window to get some sort of leverage when he heard a giggle. And if he weren’t in the situation he was currently in, he might’ve taken more time to appreciate how beautiful that laugh was.

“Wow,” Kurt chuckled. “I wonder what TMZ would pay for a photo like this.”

“Not enough,” Blaine grunted, struggling for some sort of hand hold. “Now, are you— going to— help me— or not?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and headed over to Blaine.

He laced his arms underneath Blaine’s. “Alright,” Kurt said. “I’m gonna pull on the count of three, so brace yourself. One…”

“Wait, on three or after three?”

“What? Clearly on three, Blaine.”

“Wait, did that count as three?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Kurt tugged and Blaine slid out of the window with ease. The momentum of the pull sent them both toppling backwards—Blaine’s entire body on Kurt—towards the ground.

They hit the frozen ground with an “oof,” and immediately bust out into a fit of laughter.

“That went well.” Kurt giggled.

Still laughing, Blaine turned his body to face Kurt. “Yeah, we’re the epitome of grace.”

They settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence, both warmed by being in the other’s embrace. After a moment, Kurt cleared his throat and shifted backwards,as if he’d just realized the position they’d fallen into. He shuffled to his feet and brushed off some snow from his pants. “So, um, it was so nice—and super random and bizarre—to meet you,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “But I have to go. I have… things to do.”

Kurt headed off in the direction of his next destination, but not without Blaine following close behind. “Like what?”

“Like go meet my dad to watch my Jewish best friend play mother Mary in a multicultural holiday play. “

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Fine, don't tell me.”

“Oh, I only wish I were joking… Whatever, I have other things to do. Important things.”

“Like what?” Blaine pried again, hoping it was something he could accompany Kurt to. He was intrigued by him, and wanted to get to know him better.

“Like make the biggest decision of my life!” Kurt finally snapped, whirling around to face him. Blaine wondered for a moment if he had been too intrusive before Kurt deflated, like a cat un-bristling its tail. “I got into NYADA. It’s one of the best schools in the country for musical theatre, but it’s in New York and I can’t go.”

Blaine thought back to the incident that happened moments before he had nearly been discovered, then back to when he first met Kurt. No wonder Kurt was so wary of him.

“Because of your dad.”

Kurt gave a meek nod of confirmation. “He had a heart attack last year that put him in a coma for a few days, and now, he has… cancer… and we don’t know which way it’s going to go… I asked NYADA for a deferral, but they said I would lose my scholarship.”

They both stayed silent for a moment, neither quite knowing what to say after that. “Sorry for the huge downer,” Kurt mumbled. “I just… haven’t said that to anyone yet. Aside from kind of yelling it at you in the I’m A Bean a few minutes ago… Anyways,” he started up again, turning from Blaine and heading off into the snow covered terrain. “Merry Christmas, I gotta go.”

Blaine continued to trudge after him. “What, where?”

“I told you, multicultural nativity play.”

Blaine caught up with Kurt and sent him his most charming grin. “Sounds fun.”

***

“A hundred and fifty six piece elf village?” Blaine asked in astonishment as he and Kurt walked through the underpath of some trees.

Kurt let out a dry laugh. It sounded even more ridiculous aloud. “Some people’s dads collect coins, or artisan beer bottles; mine collects elves and their homes… So, what are your plans for the holidays?”

Blaine just gave him a halfhearted shrug. “I’ll probably just stay in the hotel room.”

“Christmas Eve in a hotel room?”

“I travel a lot. I’m used to it.”

“And I’m used to getting harassed by idiot meatheads, that doesn’t mean I like it.”

Blaine barked out a laugh, making Kurt’s stomach flip involuntarily. “I guess, just once… I’d like to stay in one place for a little while.”

Well, Lima isn't the worst place to spend Christmas Eve, Kurt nearly said before stopping himself and realizing he would look like a total creep if he did. He lightly shook his head, trying to bring himself back to reality. Head out of the clouds, Hummel. He probably has a girlfriend on the tour bus waiting for him.

“So why does your dad like Christmas so much?” Blaine asked, breaking Kurt out of his thoughts.

“Oh. I think… I think it’s because my mom passed away between Thanksgiving and Christmas.” He took note of the sympathetic look on Blaine’s face before continuing. “So now I think he wants to make Christmas this big and spectacular thing… for me, I guess. I used to love the little figurines when I was little, because I kind of looked like them. My mom decided to start collecting them a few weeks before she died.”

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Blaine said, adding a gentle hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “But that’s pretty sweet of your dad.”

“Yeah… I guess it is.” Kurt smiled warmly. “He’s a great dad.”

The two boys finally reached the peak of the hill. The view overlooked a beautiful wintry scene, complete with frosted evergreen trees and a meadow blanketed in fresh pillowy snow.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”

Kurt scoffed. “Snow can hide a lot… it’s like the spanx of weather…” Blaine laughed and another comfortable silence fell between them for a moment. “So, where did you grow up?”

“New York. Queens. Growing up, you had to be tough and my brother was… I, on the other hand, was a little more sensitive… and I think that came off as weakness to the other kids.” Blaine shrugged it off. “But it was okay because I always had music.”

Kurt nodded and smiled understandingly. “I know exactly what you mean. The only thing that keeps me sane around here is the glee club. When I’m not singing, I don’t really feel�� whole. It’s like—“

“Like you’re barely even a person.”

Kurt let out a little puff of air in astonishment. “Yeah… kind of exactly like that…” As they tread on, Kurt could hear the sound of ice softly crunching beneath their feet. “So uh, what do your parents think about your job?”

Blaine let out a short laugh that felt just the tiniest bit bitter. “Well, my mom supports me but… My dad doesn’t think performing is a real job. He’s really strict. He wasn’t too happy when I came out to him either, but he got over it… sort of.”

Kurt snapped his head up to look at Blaine, eyes wide as he processed the words he just heard. Came out, as in… “Wait a second, you’re…”

A smile tugged at the corner of Blaine’s lips. “Queer as a three dollar bill.” As soon as it was there, it faded. “But uh, it’s not something I advertise, you know? My dad thinks it’s better—safer, if I don’t.”

Kurt cocked an eyebrow, doing his best to push down the butterflies raging in his stomach. “Like a safer career move?” Why would Blaine’s dad care about his career if he didn’t even think it was valid?

Blaine shook his head. “When I was in middle school, before my first album, I went to a Sadie Hawkins dance with a friend; the only other gay guy in the school. While we were waiting for his dad to pick us up, these three guys came and beat the crap out of us.”

In an instant, Blaine felt Kurt’s hand on his. “I… I’m so sorry.”

“I uh, never pressed charges or anything. Just transferred and never looked back, which made sense at the time, but now I just regret not standing up to them.” Blaine looked right into Kurt’s crystal blue eyes as he came to a stop. “So if you ever get the chance to do what I didn’t, you should take it.”

***

They lumbered on through the snow, finally reaching the peak of a hill with a gentler slope than the last one.

Families stood huddled together while groups of children, wrapped up tighter than the presents under their trees, waddled to sleds and rode down the hill.

Kurt watched a smile crack Blaine’s face and he narrowed his eyes with a light suspicion. “What are you smiling at?”

“We should go sledding.”

“We don’t have a sled..?”

Blaine just picked up his pace to a light jog and headed towards a group of women huddled together. He faced Kurt, but kept up his jog in a backpedal. “Young moms; kind of my bread and butter.”

Kurt huffed out a laugh as he looked on at Blaine introducing himself to the star struck mothers. He offered to take a few selfies with them before shortly returning back to Kurt with—lo and behold—a sled.

A minute later they were at the edge of the slope and Blaine settled himself behind Kurt. Kurt felt his heart racing and if he was being completely honest, he couldn’t tell if it was because of the dropoff or the way Blaine was pressed flush against his back, his arms wrapped snug around Kurt’s waist so that he could take hold of the reins.

Blaine started to scoot the sled forward and Kurt felt his nerves kick in. “Wait!” He cried out.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just… despite living in a snow covered town for eighteen years, I’ve never actually been sledding before.”

Blaine leaned forward and rested his head in the space between Kurt’s head and shoulders. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Kurt had absolutely no reason to believe Blaine—considering the short time they’d known each other—but for some reason, he found that he did. He believed he’d be safe with Blaine because he already felt safe with him. Safe enough to tell him about his mom, safe enough to confide in him about his dilemma with his dad, and now, safe enough to go sledding for the first time.

He nodded and felt himself pressing his cheek closer to Blaine’s. Blaine pushed them forward and off they went, down the gentle curve of the hill.

The air started rushing quicker and quicker against Kurt’s face, until they were riding at an enjoyable speed. Kurt felt Blaine’s arms close in a little tighter around him and he turned his head to smile back at the other boy, who graciously returned it.

The smiles were wiped clean off their faces when they faced forward once more and suddenly came into contact with a bump in the hill that sent Blaine tumbling backwards with an “oof.” Kurt managed to stay on, panic rising as he realized he had no control of the sled.

“Oh no. No no no,” Kurt yelped as he approached the sharp incline of a snow bank, unable to do anything to slow down or avoid the oncoming collision.

The sled went up the ramp and Kurt went flying, landing hard on a cleared path of snow he didn’t even have time to recognize as the road. He heard a harsh noise in the distance while he groaned and tried to gather himself. Kurt finally made it to his feet and the (now much louder and closer) noise finally registered as the revving of an engine from an oncoming car that was coming down way too fast for this weather.

The car seemed impossibly close and Kurt wasn’t sure he’d make it out of the way in time.

Out of nowhere, Blaine came racing across the road and practically tackled Kurt to the safety of the other side of the road.

The curly haired boy lay with his body pressed warmly against Kurt’s for a moment before clearing his throat and rolling off to the side.

Kurt let out a breath (of relief or disbelief, he really couldn’t tell) and watched it wisp away into the cold air. After the initial shock faded, Kurt turned his head to look at Blaine, who lay next to him looking just as dazed.

Of all the things he expected to do after a situation like this, feeling a smile start to curl on his lips definitely wasn’t at the top of the list. But Kurt took one look at Blaine’s (horrified) honey colored eyes and couldn’t help but think how ridiculous this whole situation was. Before he could help himself, he exploded into a fit of laughter.

Kurt felt an unfamiliar tingle in his chest—something light and warm, that he maybe only had a memory of. As his laughter grew and he watched a smile spread on Blaine’s lips, the glow spread down through his arms and legs and all the way down to his toes until his entire body felt sunny, despite being surrounded by mounds of snow.

[baepsaets]

sunny day pt. 3 ~ park jimin

pairing: hybrid!jimin x reader

rating: sfw

word count: 4.3k

summary: you’re a veterinary student specializing in hybrid care when you get a call in the middle of the night that a feral hybrid has broken into the clinic where you work.

a/n: I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! Thank you for the kind messages while waiting for pt 3, I really appreciate all you have to say. I’m already about halfway done with pt 4 so hopefully that will be posted soon as well!

part 01 02 03 04 05 epilogue

You woke up that morning with a headache and a serious crick in your neck. When you checked your phone, you had a missed call. Seventeen of them. From Namjoon.

Voicemail, 9:07am: (Y/N), I just got done talking with Jungkook and he told me about last night. You better not be ignoring me. Call me back as soon as you get this.

Voicemail, 9:34am: You better not be dead either. As in like, murdered. By the actual stranger you let into your apartment. Because that’s what happens to people who do stupid shit like that—they get fucking murdered.

Voicemail, 10:58am: The longer you take to call me back, the more worried I get. I am this close to sending Taehyung over to check on you. Call me back.

Voicemail, 12:11pm: (Y/N). If you don’t call me back by the end of my lunch break I’m calling hybrid control, the police, and your family, I swear to God I will.

You checked the time in a panic, because you knew Namjoon’s lunch break ended at one and even then, there was the chance he’d be called away early. It was only twelve-thirty and you called back immediately. The phone rang for a split second before he answered.

“(Y/N),” he said, rather calmly, almost casual. “What the fuck.”

You bit your lip. “I can explain.”

“Then start explaining,” Namjoon hissed. His voice was edging on feline, which meant he was seriously pissed—Namjoon liked to present himself as human as possible at any given moment and did not often slip. “And give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drive to your apartment and smack you in the head.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I should have called you. But whenever Jungkook told me a hybrid broke in and he didn’t want to call you, I was so preoccupied with helping Jimin—,” you cut yourself off and sighed into the phone. “I didn’t think.”

“That doesn’t matter!” he replied, and you realized then that Namjoon sounded much more than angry; he sounded concerned. “I’m your employer. I deserve to know about everything happening in my clinic.”

You transferred your phone from one hand to the other, rolling your neck. “Jungkook was too nervous to call you.”

“And I’ve already yelled at him. (Y/N), what if something bad had happened last night? What if one of you had been hurt? You’re under my care when you’re in my facility, and I’m responsible for you. I should have known. You should have called me.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, a kernel of guilt lodged in your throat.

Namjoon waited a long moment to reply, until he huffed, “The fact that you didn’t call me isn’t the only reason I’m angry. I’m angry because you’re an idiot.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear. “Excuse me?”

“You’re an idiot,” he repeated. “What the hell were you thinking, letting a stranger into your apartment? What if he’s a weirdo? What if he’s a murderer?”

“He’s not a murderer. And he’s not a weirdo, either. I basically had to beg him to come here. You should be questioning his judgement, not mine.”

“I’m not questioning your judgement,” he was quick to say. “I’m just saying—,”

You interrupted him before he could continue. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course,” he replied, immediately and without hesitation.

“Then trust me to know what I’m doing.”

Namjoon laughed once, amused and annoyed. You could tell he wanted to protest but thought better of it; he was naturally argumentative, but often took the higher road to avoid confrontation. Changing the subject, he asked, “How is he?”

You sat up, holding in a pained groan. Glancing at the closed bedroom door you replied, “I treated him the best I could, but I didn’t have much equipment, and he wouldn’t give me access to everything.”

“Describe his injuries,” Namjoon requested, voice professional. Finally—you were much better at handling professional than angry and concerned.

“He has lacerations across his back caused by gravel. Last night I picked the rocks out of his skin and cleaned everything I could. He has a six-inch gash on his arm, but it shouldn’t need stitches. His left ankle is my biggest concern. I think it might be broken, but he won’t consent to an x-ray.”

You took a moment to inhale, sheepishly. “I, uh, borrowed a first-aid kit out of the storeroom, along with some other supplies.”

“Oh,” Namjoon replied, flatly. “Was that you? I’d assumed the hybrid had broken in there too.”

You huffed through your nose. “No, he only broke into your office. I cleaned it before we left, by the way. I couldn’t fix the door but I swept up the glass and blood.”

Mentioning his office seemed to bring Namjoon’s annoyance to the forefront of his mind. “God, it’s going to take forever for me to re-scent it. When I walked in, I thought I was going to drop dead.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you grinned. “You can take the cost of the broken door out of my paycheck, if you want. Consider it an apology.”

“I would never do that. Bring Jimin in and let me evaluate him, and we’ll call it even. I really want to make sure his ankle isn’t broken.”

You got off the couch and started to move toward the kitchen, leaning against the wall for support. Your thumb rubbed a restless rhythm across the edge of your phone. “I’ll talk to him once he wakes up. He seemed really reluctant last night, I don’t know if he’ll agree to it.”

“Oh, fuck that, get him in here. It’s the least he could do after wrecking my office.”

“I’ll keep that argument in mind,” you laughed. “What time would be best?”

“Anytime in the afternoon.”

After you and Namjoon hung up, you tossed your phone on the kitchen counter and ran a hand across your forehead, trying to suppress your growing headache.

“It’s not broken.”

You jumped and saw Jimin standing in the middle of the hallway, awkwardly. He was standing too rigid not to be in pain, but seemed to be trying very, very hard to put weight on his leg, like he was trying to prove it was fine.

“It’s not a break I’m worried about,” you said, corralling him onto the couch. He went nervously, sitting down and staring at you as you elevated his leg. “I’m more worried that it’s fractured.”

“Wouldn’t that be better?”

“No,” you replied, terse. You went in the kitchen to get him another bag of ice, but yelled back into the living room, “A break has a better chance of healing by itself because all the bone has to do is fuse back together. But you know what a fracture implies?”

You returned and set a cloth over his ankle, and then the ice bag, being as gentle as you could. “A crack. A fissure. Fragmentation.” When you looked up he was wincing, but his ears were turned toward you in attention. “If your bone is fractured, then those fragments are freelancing. They won’t heal properly by themselves and they’ll only make the fracture worse—or even worse than that, you’ll get an infection.”

“An infection?”

Nodding, you sat on the ground next to the couch. “I don’t know how much you heard, but that was my boss on the phone. He really wants you to come back to the clinic for an official checkup.” Immediately Jimin’s lip curled, but you pressed on. “I know it’s not something you’re completely comfortable with, but you’ll be completely in control—we’ll stop whenever you want.”

Jimin looked away, conflicted, so you decided to continue, “And Namjoon said you owe him for breaking into his office.”

He sputtered. “That was an accident. And I didn’t even steal anything—,”

“Doesn’t matter,” you interrupted with a laugh. “You trashed the place. Have some respect and at least let the poor man checkup on you.”

He went quiet, gnawing on his bottom lip. “If I go, what will happen afterward?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, cocking your head.

“If I go back to the clinic,” Jimin explained. “And get checked up, fixed up, and cleared. What will happen to me after that?”

You took a moment to consider the question carefully, because you knew he wouldn’t ask unless he was afraid of the answer. “Preferably,” you started, “we get in contact with the shelter—,”

Jimin hissed and recoiled before you could finish. You held up your hand to placate him, but the abject resentment and fear on his face made your stomach twist. “But that’s not the only option.”

“I’m not going to a shelter,” he declared, voice hard.

“We won’t make you,” you promised. “We’re just a clinic, Jimin. It’s not our job to hold you hostage.”

He narrowed his eyes, because he could hear the unsaid but at the end of your sentence. “Then what’s the problem?”

You rested a comforting hand over his. It didn’t escape you last night that he seemed to gain confidence from your soothing touch. “You’re a predatory hybrid. Even though we’re not obligated to call hybrid control to report you, it’ll look bad on the clinic if we allow a wayward predatory hybrid back on the street.”

“Then I’ll leave now,” he replied, simply. “That way you won’t have to worry—,”

“Jimin,” you interrupted, letting a bit of hardness soak into your tone. “Do I strike you as someone who values reputation over responsibility? I couldn’t care less about the opinion people have of our clinic—as long as I know we’re providing the best care we can to people who need it, I’m satisfied.”

He looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t what I was trying to say.”

You looked away from him, breathing deeply through your nose. “I know people have been unkind to you in the past. And I’m sorry.” Curling your fingers around his own, your stroked your thumb up and down the side of his hand and continued. “Sometimes I feel so useless. I read online about the way people treat you, I see it on television, I treat it in the clinic. I do the best that I can, but at the end of the day, the only way I can help is after the damage is already done.”

The injustice of it sat unregularly in your chest, constricting your throat until you were sure it would burst. No one deserved to be treated like an animal. You could feel Jimin staring at you and you let him, knowing he could smell your anger, your insecurity, the genuineness of what you were saying. It rolled off your tongue like syrup, cloying and saccharine.

“I wish I was preventative. I wish I could stop the suffering before it started. But I’m not even a doctor, there’s so much I can’t do.” You turned back to him, snagging his gaze and keeping it. “So whenever there’s something I can do, I make sure to do it.”

Come back with me, you didn’t say, but it was hung between you. Trust me. Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.

“I’ll go back to the clinic,” Jimin said with a small voice. “But you have to promise they won’t try to send me to a shelter.”

You nodded and held out your pinky finger. “I promise.”

Jimin stared at your finger before letting out a hollow laugh, hooking his pinky with your own and shaking. Warmth passed between the two of you, almost electric enough to make you shiver. If you had your way, nothing bad would happen to Jimin ever again.

~~~

Kim Namjoon was not particularly threatening.

He was too gangly, too clumsy—although he was often serious, something about him always seemed just as willing to be goofy as he was to be thoughtful. But standing in front of you now, tail whipping back and forth as you helped Jimin out of the passenger seat, you had to admit he had quite a presence.

“The next time you park like that,” he noted, “I’m giving you a ticket.”

“Bite me,” you replied, good-naturedly.

Jimin was tense next to you, and you wished Namjoon would tone it down. You turned to shoot him a pointed look, but your gaze slid off him and onto another head peaking from behind the sliding glass doors marking the entrance of the clinic. A very dark, very familiar head.

“What is Taehyung doing here?” you muttered under your breath. Namjoon and Jimin heard you, but you hoped Taehyung didn’t. You liked the guy, you really did, but now just wasn’t the time.

Namjoon had the decency to wince. “Didn’t you listen to my voicemail? I invited him.”

“Taehyung is a dog hybrid. When’s the last time you invited a dog hybrid anywhere?”

“Ten minutes ago, after I called him in case we needed to break into your apartment to retrieve your corpse.”

Jimin went rigid next to you, and you shot Namjoon another look. “Taehyung’s just going to make him nervous.”

Namjoon scoffed. “Taehyung is a harmless puppy.”

Taehyung was actually a well-trained police hybrid that could kick any of their asses, if he wanted. They were simply lucky he was laid back. Knowing you’d seen him, Taehyung emerged from the clinic, and Jimin’s tail went stiff with the implication—it was two on one, Jimin against Namjoon and Taehyung, and if a fight broke out, Jimin would be at the disadvantage.

Even though a fight was improbable, you were certain Jimin’s instincts were telling him to run while he still could.

“Officer Kim,” Taehyung introduced, and you wanted to pull your hair out. You’d known Taehyung since you were a freshman and had never heard him introduce himself as Officer Kim in your life.

Jimin stared at his feet and didn’t reply. The silence that followed was tense, and you found yourself stroking soothingly across the nape of Jimin’s neck. Namjoon eyed the gesture warily.

“Come inside,” he said. “Let me check you out.”

You walked straight passed Taehyung and he pouted, reaching for your hand. You smacked him away. It was customary for you to give him a hug, but you didn’t want his scent over you when you were trying to comfort Jimin.

“What breed are you?” Namjoon asked, casual. He was verbose, good at small talk, and had a dimpled smile that tended to put people at ease. Even without a number advantage, you could feel Jimin begin to relax when you walked into the clinic and found the lobby empty.

“Jaguar,” he replied. You gave yourself a mental high-five—you’d totally called it.

You needed to speak to Namjoon before he mentioned anything about the shelter to Jimin. It was only customary to call Jin’s shelter whenever they got a new patient that could be in need of a home. Jin always made sure the people in his care had the resources they needed, which was why he was the only shelter Namjoon chose to do business with.

He led the three of you to an empty examination room, carefully unscented and sterilized. Taehyung took a seat by the door and you hovered near him, helping Jimin sit on the examination table. Namjoon donned a lab coat and picked up a clipboard, prepared to start Jimin’s chart.

“(Y/N) told me you didn’t want to get x-rayed,” Namjoon began. You liked seeing him this way—coat on, glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose, fingering absent-mindedly through paper. This was more than just Kim Namjoon, close friend and the world’s best boss; this was Dr. Kim, one of the most noteworthy hybrid specialists in the country. “I know the machine can be intimidating, but we need to see if anything is broken.”

“I’ll stay in the room the whole time,” you assured him, until finally he nodded his head. Once the x-ray was finished, Namjoon left the room to consult the radiologist. Jimin was bouncing nervously in his seat, lip tugged between his teeth, and you wanted to reach out to him. You’d grown protective of him in a way you couldn’t describe, in a way that surpassed any feeling you’d ever had toward a patient, and if you were being honest—it scared you.

Namjoon returned, and he checked Jimin’s bandaging while Jimin allowed him, passively. Namjoon commented on your good work. He decided to stitch the cut on Jimin’s arm closed to avoid infection. The entire examination happened in silence, with Jimin looking at the ground, you staring at Jimin, and Namjoon immersing himself so thoroughly in his work, he pretended not to notice any of it. Taehyung watched in amusement.

“So,” he smiled, seemingly impervious to the awkward silence. “Ever broken the law?”

You started to massage your forehead.

“Um,” Jimin began. “Not on purpose.”

Taehyung’s grin was wolfish. “Smart answer.”

Jungkook was the one who delivered the x-ray scan. He grinned at you sheepishly when he walked in, almost in apology for getting you in trouble. He greeted Taehyung enthusiastically, but turned shy again when he noticed Jimin.

“Feeling better?” he asked, handing Namjoon the folder. “You had me freaked out last night.”

Jimin’s face flushed red. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that.”

Jungkook assured him it was no problem and went back to work while Namjoon displayed the scan, pointing to a tiny fissure in Jimin’s talus.

“Good news,” Namjoon said. “It’s only a hairline fracture. For a hybrid, it should only take a month to heal, and you won’t need a cast. Just keep it iced and elevated, and no running or strenuous activity.” He eyed Jimin over the bridge of his glasses. “That’s an order.”

Jimin almost went slack with relief. Deciding now was the best time to talk to Namjoon before he brought anything up in front of Jimin, you asked, “Namjoon, can I speak to you and Taehyung outside for a moment?”

If Namjoon was surprised, he didn’t show it. You opened the door and nodded for him to go first, and then Taehyung, allowing Jimin a quiet moment to collect himself before they went any further. You gave him a reassuring look and closed the door behind you.

You walked them to the west wing, hopefully far enough where you wouldn’t be overheard. Being surrounded by such advanced hearing every day was exhausting. You never got privacy. Once the three of you were alone, Taehyung lunged and enveloped you in a bear hug that was impossible to escape.

He nuzzled your cheek while you groaned. “God, Tae, I don’t want your scent on me right now! I still love you, but get off.”

“But I missed you,” he whined. You shoved him off and he let you, which was the only way you could shove him in the first place; he was ridiculously stronger than you. He fluttered his eyelashes at you while you faked a scowl.

“I’m still mad you’re here,” you huffed, turning to Namjoon. “Jimin’s not a criminal, and yet you invited Taehyung, a trained police hybrid, to act like some type of ridiculous body guard—,”

Namjoon flicked his wrist in dismissal. “Taehyung may be trained, but he’s just a German Shepard breed. Jimin is a jaguar hybrid. A predatory cat will give even the most trained K-9 a run for their money.”

“I resent that,” Taehyung injected. “Not that you asked, but know that I do.”

You let out a great sigh and grumbled, “I really can’t believe you invited him.

“He’s off-duty. And it’s not like he’s going to report him,” Namjoon snorted. “He’s basically here for fun.”

Shaking your head fondly, you looked away. It made you feel a thousand times lighter, knowing Jimin’s ankle wasn’t broken, knowing nothing serious was wrong. You turned to Namjoon with shy, hopeful eyes. “Is he really okay?”

“He’s really okay. You did everything perfectly,” he assured you with a laugh. Namjoon patted your shoulder. “But he’s going to need a lot more healing after this, and I don’t just mean physically. I’m going to call Jin and see if he has enough room in the shelter for a possible hard case.”

You winced. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Why?” His eyes narrowed.

You pulled your bottom lip through your teeth. “I want Jimin to come back with me.”

Namjoon cracked a half-smile, but then realized you were serious. “(Y/N), you know that’s a terrible idea.”

“If Jimin were a murderer he would have killed me last night—,”

“It’s more than just that!” Namjoon interrupted. “Jimin’s obviously experienced emotional trauma. He should be in a place that has the resources to provide for him, and no offense, but you’re not a therapist. Just because you’re going to be a doctor one day doesn’t mean you’re equipped to handle him.”

Giving Taehyung a nervous look, you admitted, “I think he’s had bad experiences before. Whenever I brought the shelter up earlier this afternoon, he was petrified. He wouldn’t come here until I promised we wouldn’t take him there.”

Namjoon and Taehyung exchanged a dark look. They knew better than you that not every shelter was hybrid-friendly. “We can keep him at the clinic.”

“And waste money, time, and resources on a patient who only has a hairline fracture? You know that’s not practical. And if we let him go, he’ll only be a stray again.”

“I can help him apply for citizenship,” Namjoon said. “That’s what I did with Hoseok.”

“Hoseok was able to apply for citizenship because Yoongi sponsored him, and even then, Yoongi had to own him for over a year.”

That was how it worked in your society; every hybrid was a pet until they could obtain citizenship, but to do that, they needed a human sponsor to adopt them for a period of time, in order to assess if they were fit for society. Finding a human sponsor was the most difficult thing in the world, because most people weren’t interested in doing it in the first place, and the people who did were severely limited due to government intervention and quota restrictions.

You gazed at Namjoon triumphantly while he avoided your look, staring off into the distance. Seeing his hopeless expression made your heart soften, and you reached out to pat his shoulder. “I know you’re worried. If I need help, trust me, Namjoon—you’re the first person I’ll call.”

You stared up at him with big, fluttering eyes, and in the background, you could hear Taehyung chuckling as Namjoon slowly but surely gave in to your hopeful gaze. “God, I hate you sometimes. Fine. Fine! I’ll get his paperwork for you to sign and fill out.

“I still have to ask him, you know. He could say no.”

It made you incredibly nervous, and you were sure they could smell it. What if the connection you felt with Jimin was one-sided? You couldn’t live with the thought of him back on the street, fighting just to survive, when you had an empty home and an open heart just waiting for him.

Taehyung shook his head. “He won’t.”

“How do you know?” you asked, turning to stare at him.

“It’s a hybrid thing,” he shrugged. “We’re not solitary creatures. Even the most introverted need to be around people, and it’s hard being a stray and not having that communal connection.”

Taehyung’s comment was reassuring, but you were still insecure. Namjoon and him stayed behind to start collecting Jimin’s paperwork while you went back to the room where he was waiting. Jimin perked up when you came back inside, ears turning in attention.

“Hey,” you greeted, grinning. Jimin grinned back, and it made your chest tighten. “Everything is checking out perfectly, treatment should be short and sweet. Namjoon’s getting your release paperwork now.”

Jimin sighed in relief. You could tell the clinic made him nervous, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “Thank you.”

You nodded and bit your lip. “I have a request, though.”

His tail flicked, nervous. “Yeah?”

“I want you to come back home with me,” you said, and his eyes widened, tail freezing midair. “I know it’s sudden, but you still have a month of healing to do. I want to help you until you’re fully healed, and then I want to help you get your citizenship, if you’re interested.”

“Citizenship?” Jimin asked, surprised.

You nodded your head toward the closed door. “Namjoon got his citizenship in just over a year, and he’s helped countless people get their own. In order to start the process, you need a sponsor, and your sponsor has to adopt you for a year in order to vouch for you. I want to do that.”

He stared at you, flatly. “You want to adopt me?”

“I want to be your sponsor,” you corrected. “And after a year we’ll apply for your citizenship and the adoption will be null.”

Jimin looked away again, indecision written all over his face. You took his hand in your own in reassurance. “Take as much time as you need to think about it. I’m going to step outside with Namjoon to give you time—,”

“No!” he interrupted, and then blushed. “I mean, you don’t have to leave. I’ll do it.” He leaned back a bit and smiled faintly, teasingly, and held out jazz hands. “Adopt me.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Really? Really?” you asked, trying to conceal your growing excitement. Jimin nodded again and you had to suppress an honest to God squeal. “Yes! Oh, this is great—this is great. Okay, okay, okay. Let me talk to Namjoon, we’ll call Jin and set up the paperwork—oh! And we’ll get your treatment sorted out. I’ll totally be able to take care of you at home, but there’s a lot I need to buy. Not like, medical stuff, but like, hybrid stuff. Because I’m adopting a hybrid. Wow, okay. I should call my mom or something. I need to get clothes and shoes and everything else, I need to make a list, but first your ankle—,”

Jimin grinned and let you drone on, talking mostly to yourself. For the first time in a long time, he looked forward to what the future had to offer. 

[harryimaginedstories]

unscripted - part1

Hello, friends! :) Finally back with a longer story I hope you’ll enjoy!

Summary: how to feel when the man of your heart is talking about one night stands.

This is based on a request! x Also: Lovely picture isn’t mine.

His fingers traced along the small words printed in black. A soft smile graced his features and his breathing hitched as he continued to read the words painting the picture Harry was excited to act out and make a pretend reality.  They described the kind of connection between two people Harry himself knew well enough: the passion of two bodies discovering each other when the minds have yet to know anything of the other’s. 

Harry sighed. It had certainly been a while since he’d allowed himself to forget about the fear of vulnerability and instead let himself give in to the exhilarating feeling of sharing a bed with somebody he didn’t know. And though Harry didn’t pride himself with having spent nights with strangers, there was a sense of excitement - something almost dangerous about opening himself up to a person he sometimes didn’t even know the name of. It was an excitement he sometimes found himself missing. Perhaps also because he wasn’t getting laid much recently, not really at least. Sure, he had some pretty acquaintances who were willing to help him out in a moment of desperation and weakness one way or another - but those encounters couldn’t give him the same kind of satisfaction as being with a woman who was gone by the morning did. There was nothing like waking up with her name being nothing short of a distant memory.

Sex. Familiar with the act of it, Harry found himself blushing at the thought of getting naked in front of a camera and in a room that was filled with friends as well as a big production team. Though Harry was to appear in a short film and not a big hollywood movie, he was aware of how much work went into such a project and didn’t for one moment doubt there would be a few dozen people present to see him bare and sprawled out under a female scene partner’s body. 

“M’fucked.” 

He grinned. Harry, though nervous, wasn’t at all less excited for the filming to start as he’d been when he’d agreed to it earlier that week. Even though it had brought him one of the roughest arguments he’d had in a while with somebody close to him. 

Any kind of news for Harry meant calling Y/N the moment he was alone. Even when his phone was at 5% or he was expected to be somewhere shortly or it was the middle of the night where either of them were in that moment, it didn’t matter - without any verbal agreement they were used to always call the other when something important had come up - and there was an excitement that was only really there when Y/N knew what he was up to. Only that this was one of the seldom occasions where hearing her opinion wasn’t great.

. . . four nights before . . .

When Y/N entered Harry’s flat her body was shaking and the exposed skin of her hands and cheeks were red and frozen. Even her teeth chattered. Harry cooed upon seeing her blue lips, his heart melting at the sight, and hurried into the hallway to help her take off her hat, coat and the two scarfs she’d wrapped around her neck in an effort to block out the cold, before he moved his hands up and down her arms to warm her.

“Would’ve come to pick you up had you told me you weren’t coming with a cab. Poor lovely.”

She shrugged before standing on her toes to press a kiss to his soft cheek in a way of greeting. “I can manage just fine, Har. The tube is wonderfully warm when it’s this busy.” 

“And miles away from m’house,” Harry continued to scold her, though his rant was soothed by him wrapping her shoulders in a short embrace.

Y/N smiled at him and began to make her way towards his kitchen where she was happy to find a cup of her favorite tea steaming and ready on the counter. Harry followed her and went to sit at the kitchen bar, listening to his favorite friend talk about her day and something funny she’d read online recently while he sipped on his glass of red wine.

“Anyway,” Y/N too sat down at the narrow counter opposite of Harry’s chair and curled her fingers around the warm cup, “You called, I’m here. What’s up?”

Harry reached for the bottle of red wine and poured himself another glass, then he grinned widely, making her excited for the news he had to spill. He looked like a young boy, Y/N found herself thinking and it pleased her to see Harry blushing and excited for something. Even his fingers seemed to shake with delight.

“I got cast in a film, Y/N.”

She gasped and clapped her hands together with a cheer. “Really? That’s amazing! And your first one wasn’t that long ago!”

“I mean,” Harry shrugged, dimples appearing in both cheeks, “it’s a short film and not a massive production or anything. Don’t get your hopes up, you’re not going to get to hang out with Leo DiCaprio on set anytime soon. But m’reallly happy about it, Y/N.”

Y/N squealed and shook her head. “I’m so happy for you, Har. Genuinely.”

“Thanks, love,” he sighed and his heart jumped in his chest when her fingers wrapped around his to squeeze them, “It’s directed by Gilles, remember him? He’s great, I think.”

“The visuals he showed me last time I saw him were absolutely stunning,” she agreed, gave his hand another short squeeze and released him, “And you’re going to be in a film of his? How come? And what’s it about?”

His stomach fluttered at her joy and eagerness to support him and he grinned when she moved her hand to take his glass from him and have some of his wine as well. 

“He wrote a story that really - just spoke to me, you know?”

Harry got up to grab a plate with various snacks and placed it in front of Y/N, aware that she’d probably skipped dinner in order to be with him quicker. She flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re more than welcome,” he hummed. “Anyway. How was your day?”

“No, no, no,” Y/N grinned, “You have got to tell me more! What’s the film about?”

He wasn’t going to say so, but Harry was charmed by Y/N’s apparent interest in what he was doing. 

“Well,” his throat cleared, “it’s about this person who chases what he calls ‘flashing connections’.”

Y/N’s brows knotted at his air-quotes. Harry went on. “He sort of enjoys meeting a person and being with them for a short moment before they leave and he’s alone again."

That was nicely put. Basically the PG version of fucking with strangers. And something Y/N of course noticed.

“Being with them?” Y/N tilted her head, “As in have sex and then bail? And you relate to that?” 

Harsh. Harry had not seen that coming. Surprised, he straightened his posture. The small hitch in her voice was as unexpected to him as his words were to her. All excitement for him was gone in her expression and he could read in her features that she was finding it difficult to wrap her head around him being anything like the person his friend created for a film. The faint judgmental replacing the joy in her tone didn’t go unnoticed either. He sighed and took another big gulp of his wine, finishing the glass. His next words he made sure to choose well. 

“In a way I do, yeah. I can relate to that.”

Harry watched his friend’s lips press together tightly and replayed the memories he had of women spread out beneath him or with their arms wrapped around his body. Women whose faces he couldn’t see now that he tried to.

“So far I’ve never wanted a serious commitment,” he continued to explain, "and still do enjoy a woman’s company for a moment or two every now and again. S’normal, isn’t it?”

Probably yes. Still, the air around them thickened and Y/N’s chest felt heavier with every breath she took. Her mind raced and the blood in her veins froze. The mere thought of Harry laying bare in front of women he didn’t know, women who took his body in and kept the sight of him naked in their memory - it made her uneasy and brought her the ugly taste of a jealousy she had no right to feel.

She couldn’t let it show though, and a well composed indifference took over her still features. Harry tilted his head to one side before grinning, because there was no fooling him.  Y/N had been his best friend, closest companion and most favorite person for a long time. Too long as that she could’ve hidden something from him. He bit his lip so he wouldn’t enjoy taunting her too much. 

Y/N’s mouth stretched into a smile. “Well, sounds like you’re perfect for the part, then.”

“You’re annoyed by that, aren’t you?”

Innocent eyes met his. Y/N pulled out her phone and absently began to scroll through an app, feigning to no longer be interested into the conversation. 

“By what would I be annoyed?”

Harry shrugged. Watching her fiddle with her hands and biting her lip to maintain a straight face had his stomach flutter and toes curl as he suppressed a laugh.

“Seems like me fucking a woman I have no emotional connection to doesn’t rub you right, lovely.”

Just as he’d expected, the words made her jump back and a deep frown drew itself onto her forehead before she slid off the stool and turned her back to him so she could go grab a glass of water. Harry’s home was familiar enough for her to not need him telling her where she could find a glass and even though he offered her some of the sparkling water he kept in the fridge, she filled it with tab water and drank it right where she stood - a safe distance between herself and the smugly smiling Harry.

“Why are you not answering me, Y/N?”

She groaned. “I’m not annoyed. Congratulations, Har.”

“You sound awfully annoyed for somebody who claims not to be.”

His words infuriated her and she threw her head back and turned to her friend with anger burning her eyes.  Y/N dropped the glass in the sink, slightly cracking the rim by doing so. When she spoke next, her tone was strong and hid the growing discomfort she felt the longer Harry enjoyed his joke with her.

“I don’t give a shit about what you do in your bedroom, Harry.”

A lie, of course. She did very much care. Harry had had her under his spell ever since they’d first met. And though she knew she’d never tell him about just how deeply her feelings for him ran and he therefore couldn’t know how his jokes affected her mood, with every millimeter that his smile grew, her stomach dropped further down. 

Harry decided to worsen the situation. “Not only in the bedroom, love.”

“Okay, gross,” Y/N grimaced and shut her eyes briefly, blocking out the image her imagination was trying to paint, “You’re in a short film, I’m happy for you. Is that good enough to you? Can we change the subject now?”

He shrugged and finally his smile shrunk. “Fine with me.”

They didn’t look at each other like they usually did. Neither of them had eyes full with adoration and care for the other, but instead his were searching her expression for any sign that explained her displeased reaction to his words, while Y/N looked for anything that explained how a persons she’d believed to be a lover only, claimed to find it easy to sleep around.  Seemed like that self-given description of his didn’t suit him at all. 

What is a lover without love?

It was the first time she couldn’t understand where he was coming from. Not one part of her saw how what Harry searching for emotionless sex with strangers wasn’t sad. Being with somebody so intimately - How could he call himself a lover if he didn’t allow himself to find a person who was one too?

Harry swallowed hard as he watched her lips press together as if she was holding herself back from saying something he might not like and that alone sufficed to make him uneasy. Perhaps pushing her wasn’t a good idea.

“I have biscuits.” 

His lips curled into a genuine smile when hers did, too. 

“Where?”

Harry slid off his stool and walked over to his kitchen cabinet, one that was too high up than what Y/N could’ve reached herself. The plate with biscuits was practically full since Harry had made himself choose between cheese and chocolate a long time ago (he’d gone for cheese) which resulted in him allowing himself close to no sweets at all. The moment he held the plate out for Y/N to take one of the chocolate chip ones, he knew he’d won her back over, but just to be sure he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

“You’re my favorite,” he admitted quietly, “Don’t want any serious commitment with anybody. The one I’ve got to you is enough. And more important than any other could be. One I want to keep.”

She sighed against his skin and let her forehead brush his shoulder.  A whimper left her mouth when he pulled away. How he could make her melt only by purring into her ear confused her still, even after years of Harry having that effect on her she still couldn’t quite understand. But she’d come to terms with the fact that he was magical. 

“And all I want is what makes you happy, Har.”

He dropped a kiss to her head. “Thanks, lovely. I feel the same when it comes to you, of course. Now c’mon. Have a biscuit.”

She giggled. “Making me sound like a child.” 

“Yeah I heard it just now as well.” He grinned. “Sorry.”

The chocolate biscuit tasted better than it looked (just like practically everything Harry baked himself) and when Y/N finished her first and reached for another, Harry moved to sit back down. They continued to chat about what they’d been up to and slowly Y/N began to forget what he’d told her only moments ago. “So anyway,” Harry said after telling Y/N what him and Nick had planned for next week, “You mentioned things are busy for you right now. Want me to cheer you up?”

“Gladly.”

Harry crossed his arms. “I though I’d ask Gilles if it’s okay for you to be on set and watch me be an actor and all. Might be quite cool, don’t you think? You’d see the plot and everything before anyone else and-”

“What? No way.”

What was meant as a joke came out a lot harsher than what she’d intended and just how she truly meant it.

Watching her Harry pretend to sleep with somebody in front of a camera couldn’t be much more painful for her than watching him do it for real. It would be difficult enough to see the film, going on set however was completely out of the question.

“No way?” he bit, voice rough and deep.

“Well, you can’t expect me to show up, can you?”

“What? One minute you claim you’re happy for me, the next you act as if visiting the set would be - I don’t know. Unimaginable? Why?”

She rolled her eyes, something she was aware pushed his buttons.

“I thought you were still joking.” Y/N leaned her back against the stove and, too, crossed her arms over her chest, “You’re mood changes awfully fast today, Har.”

“No, m’serious. You’ve had this look on your face ever since I told you what the film’s about and I want to know what’s going on in your head.”

“I don’t think you want to.”

“And now what’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N sighed. In her chest her feelings were running wild. As a good friend, she wanted to be as loyal as always and tell Harry that she was happy about how happy he was to be doing this film. She wanted to ignore and push away any sense of jealousy and displeasure she found her mind clouded by at the mere thought of him laying on the bed they’d prepare for him.

Harry shook his head and slid off his stool again so he could stand in front of Y/N, looming over her easily. That, combined with his deep and hoarse voice would’ve been enough to be intimidating, had he not been her best friend. Still, though not exactly worried, Y/N swallowed hard as a sense of unease crawled up her back.

“You don’t want me to do this. I want to know why.”

“Harry-”

“Tell me.”

She took a deep breathe. It wasn’t the moment to tell him she would rather scratch her own eyes out than having to see him naked with another woman. She didn’t want him to learn that he owned her heart - not via an argument. So... Y/N decided to lie. 

“I’m just a little worried for you, Har. You did a couple risky things over the past year, you know?”

His forehead was drawn into a deep frown and he took a slow step closer. For the first time looking at Y/N filled his head with questions, when normally all he saw when meeting her eyes was an answer to whatever was going on in his life.

Y/N knew he wouldn’t let things go soon when his arms crossed over his chest, and so she reached for another biscuit, hoping it would bring back the smile he’d worn just a moment ago. His face remained frozen.

“What are you getting at exactly?”

“Just...” she reached up her hand to scratch the back of her neck as she waited for appropriate words to form on her tongue.

“Writing a song about a fling you had and mentioning her name... was kinda a big deal, wasn’t it? You practically bragged with getting into a girl’s pants. A girl you met only once, I might add. Then you have a song that’s been linked to your ex girlfriend over and over again and then even more songs who mentioned all kinds of different women and your relationships with them... it’s just- a lot.”

“A lot?”

Her throat closed up. A hesitant nod followed. “I worry for you and about what people will think if you now do a film about sleeping with random people. It might harm your image and bring back the whole ‘skirt chaser’ prejudice. I mean, c’mon you don���t want to live up to that reputation you got yourself, do you?”

“Wow.”

Utter disbelief put a shadow on his face and Harry felt himself fall back to rest against the counter, bringing distance between himself and Y/N. The gasp falling from his mouth drew goosebumps onto her skin and she raised her hand to reach out for him, a gesture that was ignored. Hurt wrote itself all over his features and regret instantly made Y/N’s heart sink.

Harry’s eyes filled with harsh tears that burned his orbs and he quickly blinked them away.

“Har-”

He shook his head and raised a warning hand, demanding silence from her.  Never in his life had Harry felt this kind of deep betrayal. Big news meant calling Y/N. Important events meant telling Y/N.  Her opinion - her support - it mattered to him as much as his family’s did and to know that she disapproved of so many things he was genuinely proud of without ever telling him... that hurt. She even thought of that terribly ugly name he’d been called before. And the reputation he had got himself? She blamed him for people calling him a dick who had no respect for women? After everything they had been through, Harry had believed she would know better and to hear that she actually believed and agreed with people claiming he liked to brag with his conquests, hurt him more than what words could explain. His songs were meant to be a map to his heart. They were important and beautiful to him. His Y/N, a girl he’d considered part of himself, should know that.

His hands balled into tight fists. “You liar.”

“Harry don’t overreact.”

“Overreact?” he threw up his hands, “Great, Y/N! You fucking admitted that all my album’s about is how I weasel my way between women’s thighs and then dump them again! Can’t imagine why that would upset me!”

“C’mon, I didn’t-”

“And now instead of appreciating that this film is something I’m excited for, you have to ruin it by making it dirty and take away any of the depth behind it! You’re just such a hypocrite!”

“Oh yeah right, first a liar, then a hypocrite!” Y/N threw the half eaten biscuit back on the plate and took a step forward, standing strong and determined before him, “If anything - that’s you! And a prick, as well. You wanted me to tell you what I think and when I do you have the nerve to insult me!” 

Harry stepped closer and Y/N bit her tongue harshly when she noticed his arms tighten. 

“Sure, play the victim here!” he bit, “Anything so you don’t have to apologize for being a shit and above all selfish friend!”

She gasped. That was a blow she hadn’t expected but hurt all the more. 

“How am I being selfish?”

“I support you!” Harry finally shouted, his voice no longer just slightly above his normal volume, but loud enough to make Y/N flinch and move back against the counter immediately. Unfazed, Harry went on: “I give you everything you could possibly need and when I give you the chance to do the same for me, you’re being inconsiderate as hell!”

They let the words ring and Y/N gave him a moment before she continued.

“You asked for my opinion Harry.” Though her voice was quiet, it didn’t quiver and she tried to keep it as soft as possible in an attempt to soothe him, “I’m sorry... I wasn’t aware that wanting to look out for you would sound like such an insult and-”

“Look out for me?” Harry gave a dry laugh, “M’not a fucking kid, Y/N! And you’re not my mother. Don’t need you looking out for me, especially not when you’re being as much of a bitch when doing so as you are now!”

Silence.  Her eyes stared into his and he watched how the orbs he knew and loved filled with terrible tears. 

“B-bitch?”

Teeth pulled at his bottom lip harshly. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath and then shook his head.

“Y/N, no, m’sorry. Didn’t- fuck. M’sorry, alright. You’re not a-”

“No, I get it,” she shook her head with disappointment weighing down her heart. When she spoke next her voice was hardly above a whisper. “Go fuck yourself, Harry.” 

The hand reaching out for her couldn’t stop Y/N as she stormed past Harry and into the hallway. When his footsteps followed all it did was make her move faster and slid into her shoes quickly so she could avoid hearing him speak again.  Y/N brushed the tears off her cheeks harshly and when she reached for her coat a heavy sigh left her mouth because the material was already grasped in Harry’s hand. 

“M’sorry.”

“You’re not. Now give me my coat.”

Reluctantly Harry gave in and watched as she pushed her arms through both sleeves and turned to the door. 

“Y/N. C’mon. You got to see my point of view as well. You basically just used what you know s’a big insecurity of mine against me. M’sorry for calling you a bitch, but-”

He had a point and it made Y/N stop in her tracks and face him momentarily. Harry’s eyes mirrored the hurt she had written all over her face and guilt was quick to make her skin crawl and fingertips buzz. She knew what she’d said wasn’t okay, especially since he cared so much about his music and poured his heart into every song.

“No, Harry,” she swallowed hard, “just- let’s just leave it be for now, okay? Have fun with your film.”

. . . the next day . . .

Regret. All Y/N could think about was Harry’s expression of sorrow when she closed the door to his home right into his face. The green practically swam in a mixture of the same hurt her eyes held as well as his own feelings of betrayal and anger. She shouldn’t have done that, not after she’d said just as many things that were unfair to him as he had to her. Leaving him was a mistake.

to H. : 1:45pm I’m sorry for yesterday. You know I’m proud of what you’re doing and of what you have done so far. x

to H. : 1:51pm After yesterday you might not know for sure anymore and I get that. But I am happy and want to support everything you do, Harry. Again, I’m sorry.

Y/N’s heart carried a heaviness she didn’t manage to shake all throughout the day and even though she gave up the idea of Harry replying to her texts after six pm struck, the ache didn’t lessen. At this point it didn’t matter anymore that she tried to cover up her jealousy by saying she was looking out for him. Even when it wasn’t all untrue, she never should’ve phrased it the way she had. And yes, calling her a bitch was anything but an alright thing to do, she should’ve just accepted that it was in the heat of the moment and that he really had more of a reason to be angry than she. Just when the first tears fell to her cheeks her phone lit up with the much awaited message. She sighed with relief upon seeing his name. 

from H. : 8:09pm I’m not going to lie to you and say that things are okay between us, Y/N. You hurt me yesterday and knowing that you kept your honest opinion to yourself for so long disappoints me. But I am also aware that I reacted all wrong and I am sorry for calling you the b-word. I didn’t mean it, not even in the moment and hope you can accept my apology for saying it regardless. Maybe you’re right and we should leave each other alone for a while... I’m still going to do the film just as I still would’ve released all of the songs you say are bad for my image. I appreciate you wanting to support me, even when you disagree and therefore don’t really feel all supportive. Thank you for apologizing. Talk to you soon. x

The sobs leaving Y/N’s lips were loud and desperate and she sank to the couch and clutched her hands to her mouth in a failing attempt at quietening them. It was as if her lungs turned inside her chest. Her skin crawled and the front of her head began to pound with a steady pain. Almost as if he knew what was happening her phone lit up with another short text.

from H. : 8:13pm Please don’t feel too guilty, okay? We’ll work things out eventually - let’s just give each other a break.

She whimpered and shook her head. Reading Harry’s messages... it was like hearing him say the words into her ear and she could imagine the pain in his voice with a clarity that was agonizing. With trembling fingers she reached for her phone. 

to H. : 8:19pm I don’t want a break from you, Harry.

Perhaps desperate. Maybe whiny. But the truest thing she managed to say in that moment and under tears Y/N couldn’t feel the embarrassment she was probably supposed to be experiencing.  Even if Harry would reach out for her and make things up, that could take weeks to happen for all she knew. And to be without him and without hearing of him for an unknown amount of time... it seemed impossible to bear. Ever since they’d met they’d gotten closer and closer until they didn’t go two days without talking. It had been like this for almost a year and now that was just going to go away again? Y/N could feel her eyes and cheeks become puffy and tender from all the crying her pained heart forced her to endure. 

from H. : 8:22pm Y/N, things will be okay. I promise.

from H. : 8:24pm Please don’t be upset anymore. I just can’t shake the words you said yesterday and I’m sorry for taking it to heart even after you apologized - and I do believe you’re sorry - it’s just that at the moment I don’t know how I’d be around you... I’m worried I’d be a dick just ‘cause I can be so unforgiving even after I already accepted an apology... it’s difficult to explain. Please tell me you’re no longer beating yourself up over this. xx

to H. : 8:27pm Hard not to, but I accept what you want. I’m so sorry. Hope to speak to you soon. I really do. x

Y/N couldn’t even try to be okay and typing the message felt wrong. But it was true, she had to accept what he wanted, even when it was time away form her.  To clear the soreness in her throat, she walked over to her kitchen and got herself a glass of water. She hoped the distance from her wouldn’t become normality and her stomach dropped when she remembered a former friend Harry had had a disagreement with, which turned into distance, which turned into them not being friends anymore. Though kind, sweet and with a heart of gold, Harry’s unforgiving side could be ruthless enough to cost him friendships.

from H. : 8:31pm Won’t be like what happened between me and Jerry. We’ll be okay. Soon. xx

She almost smiled. How he knew her like the back of his own hand wasn’t even surprising anymore. Relieved Y/N emptied the glass of water and set it back into the sink.

to H. : 8:32pm Okay. xx

Harry put his phone away and leaned his head against the headrest of his couch. His stomach was in knots and it hurt knowing that Y/N was most definitely feeling absolutely low because of him. But what he’d said was true - he couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t make things worse if he saw her or spoke to her over the phone. Still, he could almost hear Y/N crying and it crushed his heart.

His finger hovered over the tiny phone at the corner next to her contact name, but he refrained from calling her anyway. But he promised himself silently to speak to her again in less than three days. Not only for her, but for himself, too. She was, after all, his best friend.

. . . present . . .

Harry reread the page he had before him for the 5th time. So far it seemed as if he was actually one of two actors who were to participate in the film. It fascinated him that though the only scenes he was to play out were love scenes and the movie still held so much depth and back story. A good written script could truly be a magnificent thing. The smile still danced on his face and the excitement for starting to shoot the film in two days flooded his veins with happiness. He felt at ease and calm, certain that this project would be an amazing thing to do. Harry reached for his phone. He hadn’t heard her voice since she slammed the door in his face and as he’d asked her to over text, she’d left him alone after their short exchange of messages. Three days. How was it possible to miss somebody so much after 72 hours? 

Time to put himself and perhaps her too, if she still cared, out of their misery. Picking up his phone Harry began to type the word Hey, then changed them to Hi and than even to one of those lame waving emojis. Fuck’s sake why was it so difficult to talk to his best friend? Finally Harry chose to snap a picture of a paragraph of the script (aware that he wasn’t necessarily allowed to do so) and sent it to her with a short caption.

to Y/N. : 3:23pm

and you said one night stands can’t be romantic. x

He hoped starting their conversation with what had initiated their fight wasn’t pushing his luck, but when his phone lit up only one minute later, he smiled with relief.

from Y/N. : 3:24pm You would know, huh? xx

He chuckled.

to Y/N. : 3:25pm You’re hilarious. xx

from Y/N. : 3:26pm Sure am. xx

from Y/N. : 3:26pm So what are you up to?

to Y/N. : 3:27pm Practicing lines actually - don’t want to talk about that though. Listen: tonight’s Grayson’s birthday party, remember? We said we would go together.

to Y/N. : 3:27pm So are we?

Please let it be a yes, Harry thought. Please don’t be busy with something else already. All of a sudden he was more than desperate to see her again, talk to her, hug her and make up for the time they’d spent apart. 

from Y/N. : 3:29pm Pick me up at 8pm? x

Harry was quick to tell her that he would be there and was pleased with himself when he put his phone away and set it back on the table before him. It was less than five hours away until he would be with her. Would she allow him to hug her hello? He hoped it wouldn’t feel awkward.

. . .

The minute the clock struck 8pm Y/N closed the door to her flat behind her, hurried down the stairs and rushed outside the building where her eyes searched for the familiar black vehicle that belonged to Harry. He was already here.  Y/N raised her hand in a wave and crossed the road quickly. As she approached, Harry opened the door and stepped onto the pavement. Her heart leaped when his arms opened to invite her into an embrace. 

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he hummed, breath fanning over her neck as he buried his nose into her skin.

Though only separated for few days, Y/N could’ve sworn the curls at the back of his head had grown and she sighed when her finger scratched his neck and pulled them gently. 

Harry groaned and pulled her tighter against his chest. “Don’t.”

“What?” she giggled. 

She felt him shrug and shrieked when he hoisted her up and off her feet. 

“Feels good. Putting me right back to sleep when we’re supposed to go party.”

“Great,” she cheered softly and nuzzled his collar bones. 

Harry released her with a kiss to her cheek. Both hands swiftly caressed the skin of her neck. When his eyes locked with hers both of their breathing hitched and their lips were simultaneously pulled into a smile. 

Y/N nodded to his car. “We should get going.”

 “Yeah.” Then he smiled and nudged her shoulder with his. “M’happy to see you.”

Though when Y/N closed the car door behind herself and turned to look at her friend, an awkward tension settled over them both. Harry who gripped the steering wheel tightly, sent her a smile, then he turned onto the pavement and she switched on the radio to bring some noise into the sudden and uncomfortable silence.

. . .

Grayson turning 27 had all of Harry and Y/N’s friends, their acquaintances, their distant acquaintances and the even further distant acquaintances gather at a fancy italian restaurant in the west of London. Everywhere Y/N looked she saw people who were smiling and some raised their hands in a wave while all Harry could see when he entered the restaurant was the dress hugging Y/N’s figure so perfectly. He almost forgot that he should still be somewhat pissed off with her. Then again, missing her for three days and wrapping them both into an embrace the moment they reunited probably made it look to her as if things were close to normal again.

And though he wanted that, something in his chest kept him from forgiving her just yet.

“M’going to say hi to some people.”

Surprised, Y/N turned to look at her friend. Harry’s lips were pressed into a thin line and a frown had taken over his previously so relaxed face. Knowing him the way she did she could practically see the wheels in his head turning and overthinking everything he’d done since texting her this after noon. Maybe he was still mad at her, even when he’d acted overjoyed to see her only moments before. Y/N’s forehead creased into a frown. The car ride, though short, had been terribly tense. Cold fear had her shudder with the worry of Harry changing his mind and deciding that he needed more time away from her still. Y/N gave him a small smile. “Sure, yes. I saw Carrie over there so I’ll just talk to her for a bit. I’ll see you later?”

“Definitely, yeah,” Harry nodded, “If we don’t get to talk during dinner just text me when you want to go and I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Harry disappeared in the group of people gathered in the middle of the restaurant and it only took seconds for Y/N’s stomach to drop and her hands to become sweaty. 

Dinner was served at a grand table that somehow managed to fit all of the guests. Harry sat at the far end of where Y/N was and they therefore didn’t interact again. Y/N tried to catch his eye but only succeeded once, earning a small smile from him before he returned back to the conversation he was having with Grayson’s cousin who sat close by his side. Grayson’s cousin.  Y/N hadn’t had the chance to talk to her before and now she wasn’t eager to either. The girl was very obviously pretty and looked practically alike to the other blondes Harry had had by his side throughout the past. A bitter taste settled on Y/N’s tongue. The taste of jealousy. Probably another model he could sing a song about later. She cursed herself and looked away. Thinking like that of her best friend... well, made her quite the shitty friend. Swallowing hard Y/N tried to ignore the sting Harry giving his attention to another female caused in her heart. And for a moment she managed to remain calm and to not overthink, however once everyone got to their feet to sing Grayson a happy birthday, her eyes widened.  Harry wasn’t at his end of the table anymore, nor was the blonde woman.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Y/N informed her friend Aileen quietly.

Her eyes continued to search for Harry’s figure with no luck. He wasn’t at the bar. Not by the kitchen. And he wasn’t by the jukebox either.  Strange.

Though when Y/N turned into the hallway leading to where the bathroom was located, her stomach dropped to the very bottom of her body and she wished with her entirety that Harry’s whereabouts would’ve stayed unknown to her.

There he was. With her.

The blonde’s thin frame was pressed to his chest and her fingers scratched and clawed at the front of his silk shirt. His mouth was open and though mid gasp, Y/N recognized the hint of his cocky grin as he enjoyed having a pretty woman’s lips pressing kisses and bites to his neck and jaw. 

Y/N was certain she would throw up the food she’d just consumed. 

Harry rested his hands low on her hips and Y/N watched with tears burning her eyes as he pulled the woman’s body closer so he could grind into her. It wasn’t just the sight that was breaking her heart though, the noises were just as bad.  The blonde moaned and whined when his teeth bit her collarbones while Harry gave low groans from the depth of his throat. 

Y/N watched as the girl pressed a kiss to the lips Y/N secretly wished would be reserved to her alone. 

“Ready to act out that script of yours?”

A hand pressed shakily to her mouth to stifle the noise of distress ready to burst from her throat and Y/N turned to leave before either of the embracing pair could’ve noticed her presence. 

Hope you liked this (very much scripted haha) story. I’m quite happy with it, especially since it has taken me forever to finish it in a way I like it.

Masterlist

[fearofaherobrine]

Roleplay Server Log #335

"Yster Attacked, Sammn and Pinwheel Brave the Nether”

[Yster] Is feeling restless and pulls Noodle out of her terrarium. It's a warm night so she pockets her protection spray and goes for a walk with the snake resting loosely around her neck.

-There's hardly anybody out, just a hooded stranger farther down heading towards here, they seem lost-

[Yster] Fingers the spray in her pocket and keeps one eye on them. She's pondering crossing the street to avoid them.

-The stranger spots Yster and looks up, he's got a young face and his accent tells her that he's not from Sweden as he speaks to her-

[Stranger] - Um, excuse me, is there a park around here?  My friends told me to meet them there...

[Yster] Narrows her eyes and the snake lifts her head to flick a tiny tongue at them. She points down the road a bit- Make a left at the corner. It's a bit farther down. - She makes sure to stay out of reach and watches the stranger for any hint of threat.

[Stranger] Smiles gratefully- Thanks, I've been wandering around for at least half an hour trying to find it.  So maybe five or ten minutes that way?- Gestures in the direction Yster indicated

[Yster] Not even that. You're quite close.

[Stranger] - Great, thank you.  That's a neat snake by the way

[Yster] Small smile - Her name is Noodle and you're welcome.

[Stranger] - Hey, how difficult is it to take care of a snake like that. I've always considered getting one just never known how difficult it would be

[Yster] It's tricky, but not too bad. You just have to keep a close eye on the temperature of the terrarium. And not be squeamish about buying or breeding mice.

[Stranger] - Okay, thanks.  Are you heading that way, wanna walk with me?

[Yster] Still fingering the spray in her pocket. - Mmm... okay. But I'm not going in the park. I'd prefer not to be mugged.

[Stranger] - That parks dangerous?

[Yster] That's the kind of thing only a guy would say. Anywhere away from light and people is dangerous for a woman walking alone.

[Stranger] - Yeah, I guess you're right, sorry

[Yster] You're forgiven then. - She gives Noodle a little chin scratch with her free hand.

[Stranger] - Should we get going then?

[Yster] Gestures for him to start walking and then follows. - Did you lose your vacationing group?

[Stranger] - That obvious that I'm a visitor?

[Yster] Shrugs- You're lost and looking for presumably your friends.

[Stranger] Laughs a little- Yeah, I had a couple of online friends who invited me over for a visit, wanted to do a little exploring on my own

[Yster] It's a lovely city, even if you're lost.

[Stranger] - Yeah, it is- He's almost directly next to Yster

[Yster] Casually scoots over so he isn't so close.

[Stranger] Waits for Yster's attention to be diverted briefly before yanking out a knife and driving it into Yster's side-

[Yster] Reflexitvely turns with an angry gasp and puts the full force of the gelatinous red pepper spray onto the mans face, holding the trigger until it wisps empty.

[Stranger] Stumbles backwards cursing Yster, his knife still in her side-

[Yster] Knows better then to pull it out and makes a staggering run while yelling as loud as she can for help-

[Stranger] Can be heard yelling behind her-

-A hand reaches out of a nearby alley and grabs Yster, pulling her up against a chest-

[Locklear] - Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you

[Yster] Grits her teeth and kicks with all her might. She's afraid it's one of the guys 'friends'.

[Locklear] Turns her around so she can actually see him- Stop struggling, you'll just make your wound worse

[Yster] You! I... need help... - hisses in pain-

[Locklear] - I can see that, luckily I am a doctor

[Yster] Bastard stabbed me...

[Noodle] Curls up against her a bit tighter in fear because she's so agitated.

[Locklear] - Head back towards your apartment, I'll meet you there in a few minutes

[Yster] You're kidding right... - She's feeling woozy.

[Locklear] - Do you need help getting there?

[Yster] Yeah...

[Locklear] Leans over a bit to pick her up and begins carrying her through the dark alleys back towards her apartment-

[Yster] Is trying not to make a sound even though she's in terrible pain.

[Locklear] Is grumbling about the stranger, his desire to kill is rising.  He gets Yster to her apartment door and places her on her feet- Where are your keys?

[Yster] Sways a bit but manages to pull the lanyard partly out of her pocket.

[Locklear] Takes it and opens the door guiding Yster inside- Go sit on the edge of your tub, and where is your alcohol?

[Yster] First aid kit... Under the sink... - She's making her way to the bathroom-

[Locklear] - Very well- He follows her in to the bathroom- Can you remove your shirt or do you need help?

[Yster] Please... put Noodle in her terrarium... - Shakly indicates her bedroom [where the tank is]

[Locklear] - Of course- He gently takes the snake and returns ot to it's tank.  He is soon back by Yster's side and examining where the knife is- This is going to hurt

[Yster] Yeah... it hurts now....

[Locklear] Grabs a hand towel and holds it up to her face- Bite

[Yster] Does as he asks -

[Locklear] Pulls the knife out with a swift yank before placing another towel against it- Again I ask, can you remove your shirt or do I need to do it?

[Yster] Pulls it off herself - Could we just... call for one of the Herobrines instead? - Her bra underneath is as black as her dyed hair.

[Locklear] - Let me at least get this sterilized and see what we're dealing with first- He grabs the first aid kit and begins cleaning the wound.  He probes it a little with his finger, feeling the depth and severity- You will need stitches...  But it's not as bad as it could have been

[Yster] Bites back a little yelp of pain- but... potions...

[Locklear] - I wouldn't wish to subject you to the taste of those my dear

[Yster] Don't care... it's quicker....

[Locklear] Pulls out a bit of a dated cell phone- Our Herobrines number is in here, I'll work on this if you call him

[Yster] Takes the phone desperately and jabs at the buttons, after a moment it starts to ring-

[CP] Groans and connects- What do you want Locklear?

[Yster] Cp... please... It's Yster.... got stabbed... can I have a potion...? need help....

[CP] - Locklear's there, right?  Just have him patch you up

[Yster] Drops the phone so it clunks near the drain and wrestles her own phone out instead. She's got Doc on speed dial and just shakily texts - help

[Locklear] - Is Herobrine being stubborn again?

[Yster] Chucks her own phone intentionally onto the bathroom rug- Uggghh!

[Locklear] - Calm down, everything is alright

[Doc] Bursts out of the phone and the bathroom is filled with dragon for a few seconds, shoving Yster down in the tub and knocking Locklear out the bathroom door-

[Yster] AAA!

[Locklear] - YOU ABSOLUTE IMBECILE DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING!?

[Doc] Flops onto the floor in hir normal shape and then rushes forward, tripping on the rug and fumbling a splash healing potion into the tub with Yster. Sparkly particles go everywhere- Fuck!

[Yster] Sags backwards- Thank goodness-

[Locklear] Looms in the doorway, his eyes holding a glint of Insanity-

[CP] Is cackling on his end of the phone-

[Doc] Sees him and freezes- uh... hi?

[Locklear] - YOU IMBECILE!  YOU COULD HAVE MADE HER INJURIES WORSE!

[Doc] But I didn't!

[Yster] I'm good. That was a bit crude, but I'm 1000% better now.

[Locklear] Scowls a little-

[Yster] Scoots up a bit. -I don't even mind that all my sink stuff is on the floor now.

[Locklear] - And just who are you

[Doc] Straightens up a little bit. - I'm Doc.

[Yster] They're a Herobrine.

[Locklear] - Locklear

[Doc] That sounds a teeny bit familiar.

[Yster] He's Cp's friend.

[Doc] OH.

[CP] From phone- Hey Doc, why don't you go annoy Jeb

[Doc] Huh? - looks at the phone- Is that a phone? It looks like a brick?? And why would I annoy Jeb? Just because I'm out here?

[Locklear] - That would be mine...

[CP] - Yup, or you could terrify him by beating father to give him the news

[Doc] Grins- And deprive you of the joy of seeing his reaction? It is? Oh, sorry.

[Yster] Wait, what news?

[Locklear] Snatches his phone back-

[Doc] No need to be touchy. What happened anyway?

[Yster] Some asshole stabbed me. I think he was planning to steal my wallet or worse.

[Locklear] - Speaking of- He turns and starts heading out of the apartment

[CP] - Sounds like Locklears going hunting

[Doc] I hate to say it, but if they stabbed a random person for money or whatever, it's probably not the first time they've done it. So fuck them anyway.

[Yster] Yeah I'm not feeling real charitable either.

[Sammn] - heads back to where she left Pinwheel resting. She had checked Crim's room, but found it empty. A search of the castle & the immediate surrounding area turned up little to nothing.

[Pinwheel] Is scratching her own fluff while sitting on a bed. Where she had taken damage from water, get scales turned lighter in color giving her a bit of a dapple look-

[Sammn] - knocks once, then heads inside - Ah, your awake. Feeling better?

[Pinwheel] - Yes, still hungry

[Sammn] - looks around - Did Endrea leave any extra? If not, we can go look.

[Pinwheel] Runs right over to a trunk and make an excited circle- In here!

[Sammn] - comes over and opens trunk - Let's see...

[Pinwheel] Looks in as well, standing in her find legs. She spots one of the bottles and snags it, dreading it out and tries closing at the cork keeping it shut, whining while doing so-

[Sammn] - slowly reaches for the bottle - Here, let me open it. I wouldn't want the bottle to break.

[Pinwheel] Whines and keeps her eyes on the bottle-

[Sammn] - opens it, then holds it up so she can pour it out for her - Here ya go. Just go slow.

[Pinwheel] Eagerly eats, happy about the food until the bottle is empty-

[Sammn] - puts the bottle back when she's done, looking to see if there are extra - Are you full?

[Pinwheel] - Yes, you find Cri?

[Sammn] - tucks a few extra bottles away, shaking head - No. I checked his room, the castle and around there. No sign of him.

[Pinwheel] Her feathers flatten a little- Then where is he?

[Sammn] Well, he would go somewhere he would feel safe, but away from others. Remember, I found him a good bit away from here the first time.

[Pinwheel] - Then we go look there?

[Sammn] We can, but it's a long hike, across the long bridge by your house. Do you need anything?

[Pinwheel] - No, I is good

[Sammn] - checks the chests once more then closes it - Alright. Time to go find our missing dragon.

[Pinwheel] Marches straight for the door-

[Sammn] This will be interesting. - follows with a smile -

[Pinwheel] Stops briefly to roll in the grass before marching on. It isn't long before they are passing Splender's house and on the bridge-

[Sammn] - scans the ocean around them - He was hunting spiders when I found him before, that could be why he was so far away. I was over there looking for skeletons that were wild mobs.

[Pinwheel] - I smell fish

[Sammn] Yes, we are over the ocean. Fish live here.

[Pinwheel] - They yucky

[Sammn] - shrugs - They are an acquired taste. Never liked them myself, but food is food. When your starving, anything works.

[Pinwheel] - Big one says we can draw energy right from the void

[Sammn] And she is probably right, but you are a dragon. If I tried your food, I would probably get hurt or worse. Just like my food would probably make you sick.

[Pinwheel] - Oh- She continues sniffing the air, trying to catch Crim's scent

[Sammn] - keeps an eye on her, but stays back out of way - Crim doesn't eat the same stuff as you, right? He ate a spider eye.

[Pinwheel] - I think he said he Ne'er dragon, not End

[Sammn] - stop and thinks, then looks back toward the mainland - I wonder...

[Pinwheel] Turns back towards Sammn, one leg lifted a little and head cocked- What?

[Sammn] Crim's a nether dragon, so I wonder if he is hiding in the Nether. There is a portal not far from the castle.

[Pinwheel] - Portals make you feel funny

[Sammn] Aye, they do. - turns toward her - Did you pick up his scent?

[Pinwheel] Shakes her head-

[Sammn] Damn it. We might have a problem. If you can't pick up his scent, I have a feeling he's not out hunting spiders.

[Pinwheel] Worry is creeping into her voice- Then where is he?

[Sammn] I would bet every diamond I own, he's in the Nether, Pinwheel. - starts back - Come on, one way or another, we are gonna find Crim. I promised, and I keep my promises.

[Pinwheel] Trots after Sammn-

-The building housing the nether portal comes into view after awhile, the iron doors holding shut-

[Pinwheel] Looks at the buttons next to the door- We press?

[Sammn] - looks thru the small window then nods - Yeah, it's clear inside.

[Pinwheel] Waits for Sammn to open the doors since she's too short to press them-

[Sammn] - taps the button -

[Pinwheel] Darts inside and cautiously approaches the portal- That not like Splendy's portal...

[Mb] Pokes up the hole in the floor leading down to his room- What the fuck are you doing?

[Sammn] - leers at him and continues toward the portal - Having a tea party.

[Pinwheel] Hisses at him-

[Mb] Flips her off- In the nether? That's a dumb idea. And with no armor? Have fun respawning.

[Pinwheel] - I have bite

[Sammn] I don't need it and... Pinwheel is scarier than any Nether mob.

[Mb] So? Are you fireproof? Uh... huh. Sure.

[Sammn] - turns toward Pinwheel, waving her hands and muttering softly. A red glow settles over them - Magic works much better.

[Pinwheel] Looks at herself in confusion-

[Sammn] It's alright Pinwheel, it will protect you from the heat.

[Mb] Eyebrow- Humph. Just don't touch the pigmen fluffball, you'll be sorry.

[Pinwheel] Huffs and tries jumping through the portal just to pass through. She doesn't understand that she has to stand there-

[Mb] Laughs- Fail

[Sammn] - ignores him and climbs up into the portal frame - You need to stand up here and stand still for a few seconds.

[Mb] Just sinks back down the ladder giggling- Dumbasses...

[Pinwheel] Climbs in next to Sammn-

- a few seconds later and the world waves around dizzily -

[Pinwheel] Starts freaking out a little-

[Sammn] - blinks and hops down - It's alright, you said portals feel funny. Just jump down.

[Pinwheel] Jumps down and is hit by the hot air of the nether which makes her lethargic almost immediately-

[Sammn] - looks around, sighing heavily. Off in the distance, a few zombie pigmen can be seen shambling around - Pinwheel, do you see those odd looking zombies? Mb was right, don't attack them. All it takes is one hit, and everyone one of them will turn on you.

[Pinwheel] Whining a little because of the heat- I faster than them!

[Sammn] Yes, you are, but I won't be. Crim might not be either.

[Pinwheel] Grumbles but does agree before sniffing the air, she's a little overwhelmed by all the new smells-

[Sammn] - walks in a bit, before plunking down a torch - If I was a heartbroken little dragon, where would I hide?

[Pinwheel] - I could flies up?

[Sammn] You can, just be careful. There are other mobs in here that can be annoying, some of them can fly.

[Pinwheel] Flaps and makes her way up to fly around a little, she doesn't really see anything though and flops back down- Is too hot here

[Sammn] - walks around, scanning for anything out of the normal - Yes, very hot. This place is full of lava instead of water, so me and you are gonna get tired fast.

[Pinwheel] - But we gotta find Cri!

[Sammn] - wanders toward the edge of a cliff - Yes, and that should be a good place to start looking. - points off the edge.

- below them the area opens up into a lava lake, with a large dark structure jutting out of the molten mess. -

[Pinwheel] - What that?

[Sammn] That is a Nether Fortress. The perfect place for hiding.

[Pinwheel] - Okay, let's go- She starts climbing down, but she's already suffering from the heat

[Sammn] Here, let me go first. I'll cut us a staircase, it will make getting down easier. - plunks down another torch before pulling out an iron pick -

[Pinwheel] Sits and keeps an eye on the surroundings-

[Sammn] starts cutting her way down, looping around and placing torches. It takes a bit, but they make it down to the edge of the lava lake -

[Pinwheel] Sniffs the air again- I still no smell Cri

[Sammn] We might not be close enough. The heat may be cooking any scent he left.

[Sammn] - stares out over the lake for a few, before pulling out some of the netherrack she mined and starting on a narrow bridge - Keep an eye out, Pinwheel.

[Pinwheel] - Okay- She stays back a little before carefully following Sammn across the bridge

[Sammn] - slowly she builds the bridge over to the nearest section, making a larger area to stand. Looking around quickly, she starts digging into the dark brick, making a small opening into the fortress -

[Pinwheel] Slinks in after her- I still no smell him...

[Sammn] - kneels down, listening - Ok, we'll look around quick. If we see no sign of him, we'll move on.

[Pinwheel] Trots onwards, her wings are beginning to drag on the ground.  She's meant for the cold of the End, not the heat of the nether-

[Sammn] - is trying to look everywhere at once - Don't go to far ahead, there can be nasties in here.

[Pinwheel] - Like what?

[Sammn] Blazes, more of those zombies... and Wither Skeletons... those we want to avoid.

[Pinwheel] - Why not just bite them?

[Sammn] They are like normal skellys, no flesh to bite.

[Pinwheel] - I bite skelly's they die

[Sammn] Yeah, probably, but they can infect you with Wither sickness. They might just take you with them.

[Pinwheel] Huffs-

[Sammn] - looks sternly at her - I mean it Pinwheel, don't bite the blackened skeletons. Let me deal with them.

[Pinwheel] - Fine...

[Sammn] - creeps along, listening - Smell anything yet?

[Pinwheel] Shakes her head- Just weird new smells

[Sammn] - grumbles - Hum... I'm not liking this. You should be able to pick up something. He hasn't been gone that long...

[Pinwheel] - I no feel good...

- they come up on a four way intersection. One way is a dead end,  another leads to a staircase up. The last branch is a long hallway with random blocks missing here and there. There are also long scratches on some of the walls -

[Pinwheel] - Those look like Cri marks!

[Sammn] - heads into the hallway, pulling out her knife - Come on.

[Pinwheel] Follows, sniffing the scratches confirming Crim's scent- Yes, this Cri

- elsewhere in the fortress, Crim is laying half in & half out of a little hole dug into a wall, watching a few Pigmen stumble around -

[Pinwheel] Manages to collect enough energy to run ahead of Sammn, fuelled by worry and excitement-

- One of the Pigmen suddenly stumble backwards, knocked back into the wall as a large blackened skeleton marches out, coming over to stand in the other mob's face. The two mobs make various noises at each other, drawing their swords. Crim sits up, watching them argue but is shocked as a fimilar figure comes running toward him -

[Sammn] - racing after Pinwheel - Stop, dint run ahead!

[Pinwheel] Stumbles as the heat takes it's toll, she falls to the ground, her tail flicking a little-

- the two mobs turn toward the noise, redirecting their anger -

[Crim] - jumps up, pulling himself out of the hole - No, no no.....

[Pinwheel] Hisses and lunges, trying to bite the closest one-

[Sammn] - catches up with Pinwheel, trying to grab the dragon's scruff and misses -

[Crim] - lunges down the hall, smoke billowing from his mouth - No bites!

[Pinwheel] Is exhausted and barely avoids the blow from the wither skeleton-

[Sammn] - falls backward, dropping her knife, but also is missed by the skeleton's swing -

- The Pigmen hears Crim, moving back against the wall -

[Crim] - races forward, jumping to tackle the Wither Skeleton, who stumbles around trying to dislodge him. -

[Pinwheel] Whips her tail out, nicking the skeleton's leg with her tail and weakening it-

- the skelly screeches, now limping, as Crim starts biting it. The Pigmen inches down the hall, watching -

[Sammn] Crim, jump away! - holds up a hand that has has small arcs of lightning dancing between her fingers.

[Pinwheel] Tries running in for another attack-

- the skelly flails around, kicking Pinwheel as Crim bites down hard on its arm bone, cracking it -

[Pinwheel] Gets thrown across the stone, losing a few scales against the harsh stone-

[Sammn] Crim, move!

[Crim] - launches himself toward the ceiling, just as a lightening bolt shoots from Sammn's hand and hits the skelly dead center of its ribcage. The skelly shakes and suddenly explodes, bones flying everywhere -

[Pinwheel] Barely manages to get a wing in front of her to block the shrapnel-

[Crim] - drops down, running over to Pinwheel - No, no, no! Why are you here, not safes!

[Pinwheel] Flops onto the ground, way too over heated- Couldn't finds you

- the Pigmen moves away from the wall, nudging the cracked Wither skull with a smug look on its face -

[Crim] - looks shocked - You looks for me?

[Pinwheel] - You gones...  Long...

[Sammn] - panting from the heat - Pinwheel was..... worried about you.

[Crim] - wrings several of his paws together - But... you said go away.

[Pinwheel] - Not forever...

[Sammn] - crawls over to Pinwheel, sitting next to her - You ok? Not feeling strange or sick?

[Pinwheel] - To hot...

[Sammn] - holds out her hands, mumbling softly. The red glow surrounds them - Yeah, time to leave. Even I'm sick of the heat.

[Pinwheel] - Why there two of yous?

[Crim] - frowns for a second, them comes over and lays beside her - Yes, you both need goes. Too hots, making sick. Climb on, me help.

[Pinwheel] Manages to flop herself over Crim-

[Sammn] - catches movement behind Crim. The Pigmen has picked up the Wither Skull and put it on like a hat, a smile on its half rotten face. It nods at them, then turns around and leaves - Well, then. Ok, time to leave.

[Crim] - stands slowly and heads back the way they came - How you gets in?

[Sammn] - stumbles after him, stopping to grab her knife - The old fashioned way; through the portal, dug down, and bridged over.

[Pinwheel] - Not like Splendy portals, take longer

[Crim] - shakes head as they head down a darker hallway. As they go deeper, several faint stripes down Crim's sides starts to glow -

[Pinwheel] - Cri?  You glowy?

[Crim] Yes, yes. New scales have shiny dots, dots glow like bright stones here. Crim can make glows to see.

[Pinwheel] - Keep mobs away?

[Sammn] - nervously looks around -

[Crim] Yes, but not alls. Some no care.

[Pinwheel] - Cri...  I so hot...  I no like

[Crim] I know, know. We leaves, be outs soon.

- together they work their way out, with Sammn steering them back toward the opening she dug. -

[Pimwheel] Is just panting now-

[Sammn] - also starting to feel ill from the heat - Alright, it's not too far. Hang on Pinwheel, we'll be home soon.

[Crim] - heads out, almost running across the bridge, his two middle paws helping to hold Pinwheel on his back. -

- it take a few, but soon they are climbing up, back to the portal. At the top, Crim suddenly come to a halt, almost dislodging Pinwheel. Sammn barely manages to stop. -

[Pinwheel] - Cri?

[Sammn] Crim.. What's wrong?

- Crim just stares ahead. In front of them is a large group of pigmen, maybe two dozen or so, all hanging around between them and the portal -

[Pinwheel] - I bite them?

[Sammn] - puts a hand on her back - NO! You stay still. Crim just go slowly, just walk by them. Pretend they aren't there. As long as we don't attack, they won't.

[Crim] - nods and carefully heads toward the portal, keeping low and slow -

[Pinwheel] Twists her tail around Crim's-

[Sammn] - follows behind slowly -

- they make it most of the way to the portal before one of the Pigmen walks directly in front of Crim, making him stop suddenly -

[Pinwheel] Hisses at the pigmen-

[Crim] - freezes, afraid to move -

- the Pigmen turns toward them, that's when they notice the black helm it's wearing. It's the one from before. It stares down at the two dragons and snorts, shuffling out of the way. -

[Sammn] - pokes Crim - Go.

[Crim] - slowly, eyeing the Pigmen, starts forward again -

[Pinwheel] Can barely focus-

- as quickly as they can, they reach the portal. Crim hops up, ready to leave, Sammn right behind him. They exit the Nether as fast as the portal can. -

[Pinwheel] Her breathing starts to calm down as they enter the overworld-

[Crim] Is homes now. No more hots Pinwheels.

[Sammn] - is sweaty and exhausted, but points - Yes... And now, we are going to go rest.

[Pinwheel] Slides off of Crim and spreads herself out over as much of the cool stone as she can-

- back in the Nether, the helmeted Pigman stumbles toward the portal. It stops right before it, staring at it, grunting softly. Looking over it's shoulder, it can see the others mindlessly wandering around. It watches as two bump into each other, one falling over the edge. The knocker doesn't even seem to notice it pushed one of its own to its death. Turning back, it gives a loud snort and climbs up onto the portal frame. Standing still, it screws its eyes shut as the portal transports it -

[Pinwheel] - No more going to hot place...  Cri stay here...

[Crim] - sits and wrings his paws - Hot place not hot to Crim. But... I stays here if you wants me too.

[Pinwheel] - Yes!

[Crim] Ok, ok. Crim stay, but you need cools. - nudges her -

[Pinwheel] - Is cool here

[Sammn] Yeah, but we should get inside. Out of the sun will be cooler.

[Pinwheel] - Okay...- She pushes herself up into a standing position

[Crim] - dips down and under her, scooting around so she's back on his back - Crim helps, must gets cool.

[Pinwheel] - Thank yous

[Sammn] - smiles as she watches the two of them head off, letting them get alittle ahead before starting after them.

- after all of them are a bit away, the portal surface ripples and the Helmeted Pigman falls out of the frame with a loud grunt-squeal. It scrambles awkwardly to its feet, softly whimpering. After a few minutes pass and nothing happens, it calms down. Slowly it wanders off, shuffling and snorting to itself. -

[Celine] comes up sniffing- piggy?

[Mb] There better not be a piggy.

[Celine] Makes a hopping run outside, following the trail- I smell piggy! And kinda like big fire?  

[notsoguiltykpop]

The Ghost in Apartment 1403 pt11 (Final)

Reader x Namjoon

Genre: Angst, supernatural, fluff, humor

Warnings: Mentions of death, dark themes, generally kind of sad at times.

Short summary;

Namjoon was a (relatively speaking) normal music producer moving up in the world–until he became a ghost. With no memory of what happened, and no idea what he’s doing still on earth, he haunts his old apartment–consequently bothering its new inhabitant (who also happens to be the only person who can see or hear him).

Part 1, 2 , 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Credits: Loosely inspired by the movie “Just Like Heaven”

Namjoon’s hair had been kept short while he was in a coma, so short that the first thing Taehyung said to him once he woke up was that he looked like an egg. There wasn’t any purple left in his hair, that was gone long ago. Now it was back to it’s natural dark brown, and he still wasn’t used to seeing himself in the mirror.

“You need a haircut.” Taehyung said. He was sitting across from Namjoon at a little table in the hospitals cafeteria. They had long since finished eating, and were now playing cards. Namjoon was sick of sitting in the small hospital room he’d been put in over a month ago, and was putting off going back to it. He shared it with an elderly man who, while nice enough, snored even when he was awake and never stopped talking about the mice in his attic. “That’s the first thing we should do when you’re discharged.”  

Namjoon laughed at his friend. “Sounds like a plan.” Truth be told, Namjoon was just ready to be anywhere other than the hospital. He was starting to feel like he was going insane surrounded by all the white walls, and the smell of bleach and disinfectant was nauseating after a while.

“One more week and you’re free.” Taehyung said, almost as though having read Namjoon’s mind. Namjoon nodded. One more week til he could get out of this place. One more week till he could contact you. One more week...

“You’re not still thinking about seeing your stalker, are you?” Taehyung was looking at his hand of cards, and said the words causally. It had been a cause of some discourse over the past few weeks because Namjoon wouldn’t outright say he would stay away from you. Taehyung had, for the most part, stayed out of the discussion, saying that he didn’t know enough about it to have an opinion. Yoongi must have talked to him, Namjoon figured.

“Who said I was going to?” Namjoon replied mildly. Maybe his time with you really was a product of his own imagination combined with stories his friends had told him. But if there was any chance at all that the you he knew was real, he had to know.

“Yoongi has a good point, you know. It could be dangerous.”

“Yoongi is paranoid.” Namjoon said dryly. He was grateful to Yoongi, he really was. But Namjoon was an adult, and he didn’t understand why it was so important to Yoongi, Jungkook, and now Taehyung that he didn’t find out for sure if you were the person he thought you were.

“Maybe.” Taehyung set down his cards to fix Namjoon with a stare. “But can you blame him? Can you blame any of us? We already lost you, Namjoon. We just got you back. How do you think any of us would feel if you were ax-murdered by your stalker the week you got out of the hospital?”

“I thought you, of all people, would believe me.” Namjoon sighed. But even he was starting to doubt himself. It didn’t make sense for him to have an out-of-body experience, and for you, a complete stranger, to be the only person who could see or hear him. It wasn’t logical, and he had always based his decisions on logic. But that last night with you, you had mentioned soulmates, and the word had stuck in his head ever since.

“And I thought you, of all people, would look for proof before jumping to conclusions.” Taehyung’s mouth turned upwards on the sides, just the faintest smile gracing his face. “All I’m saying is don’t do anything stupid. Don’t go looking for her, don’t knock on her door. Look her up online first, at the very least. Please? For our sake? For you parents?”

Ugh, leave it to Taehyung to bring up his parents. That was a good way to guilt Namjoon into a lot of things. Namjoon knew he should at least do a google search of your name, but he had been scared to. What if you weren’t the person he remembered spending so much time with? What if you really were just some stalker? He hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to be wrong, not about you. He didn’t think he could deal with that at the moment. “Okay. Alright.” Namjoon held his hands up in defeat. “I won’t do anything stupid.”

It ended up taking longer than a week for Namjoon to actually be discharged, and even then he was told he had to keep coming back for physical therapy. He could walk with a cane now, though was instructed not to over exert himself. “You won’t even need that pretty soon.” The doctor had said, gesturing to the black cane at Namjoon’s side. “It’s spectacular how fast you’re recovering.”

Namjoon didn’t feel spectacular in any way though.

His parents had kept a great deal of his things, and insisted that he move back in with them at least until he was fully recovered. Mr. Bang had called, and cried, telling him his office would be there when Namjoon was ready to get back to work, but not to push himself. This left Namjoon feeling like a teen again, living with his parents and escorted everywhere, and with not nearly enough to do. Whenever he had time to himself, his mind would wander back to you. Were you eating well? Were you happy he was gone? Were you sad? Were you okay?

Were you real?

It was driving him insane.

Taehyung kept his word and the first thing they did was get his hair cut--as soon as Namjoon’s mother would let him out of her sight, which took nearly a month after he was discharged.

“He’ll be fine!” Taehyung insisted. “I’ll hold his hand if we cross any streets, I promise.” Namjoon tried to hit Taehyung’s arm for that, but he moved out of the way too fast.

They met up with Jungkook and Yoongi downtown, and Taehyung took endless pictures of all of them, saying he was going to make a photo album of it called “Namjoons Big Day Out.”

“My god you’re annoying.” Yoongi complained as Taehyung took yet another picture.

“You’ll thank me later.” Taehyung stuck out his tongue and Jungkook laughed. None of them really knew where they were walking to, all they knew was they would know it when they saw it. “When we’re old and wrinkly, you’ll be glad to look back at these and remember how smooth your skin was.”

“I think Yoongi already had wrinkles though.” Jungkook mused, then quickly darted away from Yoongi. “We should go in here.” He said as he sidestepped around Taehyung (who had been walking backwards) and into a little antique shop.

“Looks interesting.” Namjoon shrugged, following Jungkook. He was wrong, as it turned out; there wasn’t anything particularly interesting there. Some old paintings that were too proper, old scratched vinyls of even older bands that no one had ever herd of, and pictures of people without names. Namjoon was looking around for his friends, planning to tell them that he was ready to leave if they were, when he saw someone he never thought he’d be so happy to set eyes on.

“Kim Seokjin.” He said to the slightly taller man who was sorting through CD’s. The man looked up upon hearing his name, looking at Namjoon confused.

“Sorry?” He said, tilting his head to the side.

“You’re Kim Seokjin, right?” Namjoon pressed.

“Yeah. Do we know each other?” Seokjin looked increasingly confused.

“Yes! No. Kind of?” If Seokjin was real, so were you. You had to be. “I’m--I’m the ghost in apartment 1403, where your friend lives. Or, I was.”

Seokjin blinked very slowly.

“I’m so sorry.” It was as though Yoongi appeared out of nowhere, quickly stepping between Namjoon and Seokjin. “My friend’s been through a lot and he gets confused sometimes.”

“I’m not confused!” Namjoon objected. “I nearly gave you hypothermia. I broke the dishes in the cabinet, and you came with her to the club I dragged her to. You remember, right?” Namjoon found his voice getting quieter as he spoke. Seokjin still wasn’t saying anything. Maybe he was wrong.

“But you’re not dead.” He said finally. Namjoon felt like his heart might actually stop--Seokjin knew who he was, what he was talking about!

“That’s just it--I never was! It was all a really weird misunderstanding.”

“Namjoon, what are you talking about?” Jungkook was there now, eyes wide as he looked from Yoongi, to Namjoon, and then to Seokjin.

“Prove it.” Seokjin said suddenly, narrowing his eyes.

“There’s nothing to prove, I told you he’s confused.” Yoongi tried, putting a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I, uh...” Namjoon searched his memory for something. “You brought flowers the first time you showed up at the apartment?”

“I bring flowers most places I go.” Seokjin frowned. “Something else.”

“I can’t think of anything else! It’s not like you were around all that much!” Namjoon said disparagingly. “I annoyed her to no end, you knew that, right? And I ruined her favorite lipstick when she was ignoring me--get off of me, Jungkook.” Namjoon was interrupted by Jungkook trying to lead him away.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to ask you to stop talking to our friend, you’re upsetting him.” Taehyung said to Seokjin.

“You’re all upsetting him far more than I am.” Seokjin snapped. “Now all of you just mind your own business for a second so we can finish our conversation.”

“Who do you think you are?” Yoongi retorted. Seokjin ignored this however, turning his attention back to Namjoon. “So let me get this straight. You were the ghost haunting my best friend, who broke everything and nearly killed me? That was all you, but you’re not even dead?”

“I didn’t nearly kill you.” Namjoon shook his head.

“You did too. If you’re telling the truth, it was you that made that god awful goop that I was told was soup. Do you know she was so upset by your spontaneous disappearance that she wouldn’t even let me throw it away? It was disgusting, and she made me come over and eat it with her--”

“Namjoon?” Your voice cut into Seokjin’s rant and it felt as though the whole world went quiet.

“You’re real.” Was all Namjoon could say. He pushed Taehyung out of his way as he got closer to you, who looked like you couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Are you...?” You didn’t finish your question, because you didn’t have to. Your hand reached up and pocked the side of his face, into the dimple he was sure was showing up because of how hard he was smiling. He looked the same, you thought, but also different. His hair was it’s natural color, and he looked more put-together than he had floating around your apartment. But there was no mistaking it; this was indeed Namjoon. “But you moved on?”

Namjoon shook his head. “Turns out I was in a coma. It was an out-of-body experience, I just didn't know it.”

You hit his arm. It wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for, but it sure was nice for you hand not to simply pass right through him. “Idiot.” You muttered, though you couldn’t help the smile on your face. “How did you not know you were alive?”

Namjoon shrugged, still grinning. “I guess it explains why I never felt dead, right?”

“This really is him?” Seokjin pointed at Namjoon.

“Yeah.” You said, nodding.

“I told you to stay away--” Yoongi started.

“Oh, hush.” Taehyung said to Yoongi. “This Seokjin guy just confirmed everything, so just calm down.”

“Who would have thought you were real!” Seokjin laughed.

You frowned at this. “What do you mean? I thought you believed me!” You said incredulously. Seokjin smiled somewhat guiltily.

“I believed he was real to you. I figured it was a “Lars and the Real Girl” type of situation.”

“A what?” Yoongi interrupted.

“You know, like this fictional ghost you made up was helping you cope with something.” Seokjin said to you. “I figured his moving on was just your way of letting go, and not needing him anymore.”

You blinked. “I can’t believe you! And why did you believe Namjoon so quickly then?”

Seokjin shrugged. “He recognized me, and knew things about the first time I visited you at your apartment that I’m sure you’ve never told anyone.”

You turned your attention back to Namjoon. Slowly, carefully, you reached your hands out, placing them on either side of Namjoon’s face as though you still didn’t quite believe he was standing there. You knew it was weird, but you wanted to know he was really there.

“I thought you were gone.” You whispered.

“I thought I was, too.” Namjoon shrugged. “I was also starting to think you were a dream.”

“My hands don’t go through you anymore.” You said, the smile returning to your face. “You’re really here.” Your voice broke as you said the words, eyes shining with unshed tears. Namjoon nodded, unable to speak. You were real. You weren’t a figment of his imagination, you were the exact person he remembered spending so much time with, the person he remembered falling in love with. He took a step closer, leaning forward and brushing his forehead with yours.

“I told you I’d find you.” Namjoon said quietly, taking on of your hands gently and kissing the palm of you hand. “And this time, I’m not dead.”

A/N Okay so maybe not as much fluff as I promised and maybe it’s a little more cliche but everything I end is cliche, haha. Thanks so much for reading this story, and for sticking with me for so long! I know I started it a while ago and I’m inconsistent about updates. Thank you for all of the kind words of encouragement and understanding, and every single message/comment! I know I don’t always reply to all of them, but I read them all! And they mean so much to me, really. It makes me so happy to know that something I wrote could make someone else happy, or make their day a little better. And as always, let me know what you thought! Love you all,

--Boo <3 <3 <3

[maemaeodom]

15 Things You Should Be Doing To Land Your Soulmate

☆ Soulmates seem like such a simple concept when you’re growing up. After all, how hard can it be to find someone that you love deeply and feels the exact same way about you? Then, of course, you get older and you realize that, oops, you were kind of crazy naive and innocent about this whole love thing. It’s so hard to meet someone you like, let alone consider something even remotely close to a soulmate, but it’s, of course, worth it. You owe it to yourself both present and future to try your best to find someone that you can consider this important role in your life. No matter how busy you are or how frustrating dating seems, you can still do your part to make sure that this happens for you. Here are 15 things you should be doing to land your soulmate. They’re not always easy, but it’s totally going to be worth it.

( 15. Staying Open )

☆ If you can’t be open-minded about the kind of person that you should be dating, then you really should forget this whole trying to find love thing once and for all. Love is blind, as they say, and that means that you can’t think that you’re only going to date blonde haired, blue eyed boys or something ridiculous like that. Keep an open mind about the type of person that you want to date, and that goes for physical traits and personalities, too. If you get too narrow, then you’re being crazy picky, and that’s not good for anyone. You’ve probably heard happy couples say that they never pictured themselves with someone like their partner but hey, love wins in the end and no one knows what or who they’re going to want until it’s actually happening. So until you can keep an open mind about your future soulmate, you have no business even trying to find someone like that in the first place.

( 14. Dating A Lot )

☆ If you want to find your soulmate or even a boyfriend, you have to go on dates. Yeah, what  a crazy concept. You can’t just sit at home watching yet another episode of your fave reality TV obsession, wondering why you never meet anyone or why you’re single when your friends are all happily coupled up. Unless you can go on dates and try your best to meet as many guys as possible, you’re not going to end up with a soulmate or anything close to that. Dating is not always a great time and it can be pretty ridiculous sometimes, but that just means you’re going to be super happy and relieved when you finally click with someone and start dating them seriously. Remember that and keep going. You absolutely have to go on as many first dates as possible to up your chances of meeting someone really great for you.

( 13. Getting Over Your Exes )

☆ We often think that it would be pretty awesome to get back together with an ex-boyfriend because hey, we’re not meeting anyone super amazing anyway. Maybe we already had the best that we could expect and we were too harsh on that poor guy, so we should take him back. Nope, that’s not the right way to go at all. This guy is an ex for a reason and it’s a good one at that. You really need to get over your exes — all of them. Yes, every single one of them. If you want to find your soulmate, you can’t have any emotional baggage or be thinking about the people that you dated before and wishing that things had worked out. You have to absolutely realize why things fell apart and you have to be totally okay with that. Sure, it takes a while to get to this point, but it’s a necessary step and it’s all part of the process of finding love.

( 12. Finding Yourself )

☆ You need to know who you are so you can present yourself in full form to the guys that you date. You want to be able to say, “Hey, here I am, I’m super awesome and I don’t have to prove myself to you. If you like me, that’s great and let’s try this thing.” Confidence is super attractive and while you love a guy who’s full of confidence (but with zero traces of ego — can you say ew?!), that’s what guys are looking for, too. So make sure that you’ve done the work to find yourself and to make yourself the best that you can possibly be. That involves discovering your dream career and working hard every single day to build something that you’re proud of. That also involves getting healthy and getting enough sleep and doing all that boring healthy stuff. Okay, okay, it’s not boring but it’s not always as much fun as eating all the potato chips and donuts that you want.

( 11. Having Faith )

☆ It’s not always easy to have faith and believe that things are going to work out the way that you honestly dream that they would. But that’s exactly why this is such a crucial part of the whole finding love process. If you don’t stay positive and feel that hey, you deserve love and it’s absolutely going to happen for you, then there’s really not much point of even trying. And to stop trying and totally give up now would be really lame and horrible, and you don’t want to be that person. So go ahead and have a little faith. You won’t get anywhere in life and love if you can’t be upbeat and always look on the sunny side of things. You may want to cry and scream in frustration because dating is such a tricky thing sometimes. But while you’re absolutely allowed to feel your feelings and you should, you should be able to pick yourself up and move on.

( 10. Not Freaking Out )

☆ If you freak out every time you meet a guy that you actually could possibly like, then you’re only hurting yourself and you’re pretty much never going to meet your soulmate. When you go on a really awesome first date, let yourself have that. Be glad and celebrate and do a little dance (but only in your head, of course — you don’t want him to know how crazy you are… at least not yet). Go on the second date and the third and the next one after that, and just let things happen. Don’t worry about whether he feels the same way as you, don’t think about whether he even believes in romance or commitment, and don’t freak out about every little thing the way that you usually do. Yes, you know you do that, even if you pretend that you are totally cool and calm and collected all the time. If you can let things happen naturally, you will definitely meet your soulmate.

( 9. Taking Up New Hobbies )

☆ The thing is that if you don’t try anything= new, you won’t become a more interesting person, and you won’t have any chances of meeting new people organically and naturally. Sure, there’s nothing wrong with online dating and of course that’s a really amazing resource if you’re single and looking for love. But if you sign up for a photography or writing class, or you take up running and join a group, who knows? You could meet the love of your life. Or not. But if you don’t try and you don’t do anything, then you can guarantee that you won’t meet anyone at all, so you really don’t have anything to lose. You might as well do what you can to put yourself in the best position possible of meeting new guys. You may think this seems kind of silly but as long as you make sure that you’re trying a new hobby that really does interest you, then at least you’ll be learning something new and adding another interest to your long list. And that’s never going to be anything bad.

( 8. Not Taking Things So Personally )

☆ When you’re dating, you end up dealing with a lot of different people who are essentially strangers. You can’t always control how other people behave. Okay, you pretty much never can. But you already know that you can control how you react and how upset and miserable you choose to let them make you feel. You need to stop taking things so personally when it comes to the dating game. Yes, things are going to be annoying and pretty terrible sometimes. You’re going to get ignored and ghosted and whatever else. You’re going to feel pretty down and wonder what the point of this whole thing is. But never for a single second think that this is about you. These guys are basically strangers to you and you don’t know what they’re dealing with or what kind of issues and hang-ups they have. Be glad that they’re showing you who they are early on and that you can move on in style.

( 7. Protecting Your Heart )

☆ If you date jerks who treat you like crap and make you feel horrible about yourself, you’re pretty much never going to find your soulmate… and you’re not going to ever have a happy relationship. Sure, you can smile and put on a pretty face and post couple selfies, but you will know the truth deep down, and it won’t be a good situation at all. You absolutely have to do the work and protect your heart if you ever want to land your soulmate. That means saying no when guys who were really rude on the first date ask you out a second time. Yes, you have to turn them down no matter how cute they are, because hotness doesn’t matter in the end — only good people and good personalities and manners do. You can’t expect to end up happy and totally in love if you don’t date the right kind of people, so listen to your heart and stay strong.

( 6. Thinking About The Right Timeline )

☆ You can’t meet your soulmate tomorrow. Okay, yeah, you might… but you wouldn’t be technically be meeting your soulmate. You would be meeting a guy who was basically a total and complete stranger to you… who you would get to know and then, yeah, he would become your boyfriend, and then he would eventually become your obvious soulmate. So things don’t work out that quickly, no matter how awesome that would be, and no matter how much you want that. You need to think about the right timeline which means that you have to stay super realistic and realize that these things take a lot of time, and you need to be patient. After all, you can’t get your dream job the second you realize what you truly want to do with your life. It takes time and this does, too. That’s not actually as bad a thing as it might seem — it means that it will be really worth it when it does happen.

( 5. Taking Things Slow )

☆ So you’ve met a great guy. That’s awesome… but that doesn’t mean you have to move super fast and basically be in a serious relationship with him ASAP. That’s not the right approach to take at all… and chances are, he’s not going to like that kind of pace, either. If you can take things slow, you have a much better chance at really and truly connecting with him, and that’s going to make him your soulmate soon enough. So no matter how much you really want to meet someone and be in love as soon as humanly possible, you really do have to slow down and take care of yourself. Don’t rush into anything, no matter how excited you are and no matter how well everything seems to be going. You will never benefit from moving fast but you have absolutely everything to gain from going a bit slower.

( 4. Supporting Others )

☆ You may think that this doesn’t have a whole lot to do with falling in love, but the truth is that everything you do is totally and completely connected. There’s a little thing called karma that you might have heard of. You can’t be a horrible person and not support your friends and family and the people in your world… and still expect to find true love and tons of happiness. That’s just not the way that the universe works, and that’s actually a really good thing because it means that good things will absolutely happen to good people. You should show your friends and family tons of support no matter what they’re doing or what challenges they’re facing, because hey, you want them to do the same for you, but you also want to be involved in their lives. And you definitely want to be a positive force in their lives and you want them to think of you as a really great friend/relative.

( 3. Forgetting About It All )

☆ Sometimes a girl just needs to chill out. Like really and truly chill out. So don’t be so hyper focused on dating and finding your soulmate that you totally ignore the other things and people that are important in your world. Spend quality time with your friends, hang out with your parents, chat with your little sister or brother on a regular basis, and yeah, don’t forget about the TV shows that bring a ton of joy into your life, either. You need to forget about this whole dating thing sometimes, and that’s going to be the best thing that you can do for yourself. You should never work so hard at trying to get something and trying to get somewhere that you forget to enjoy the whole journey along the way, and that’s true of dating as well as anything else. You will be sorry if you never take a time-out and calm down about this whole thing.

( 2. Stop The Excuses )

☆ There are always excuses and reasons not to do something, and it’s no secret that sometimes we all make excuses for why we can’t date. Yeah, sometimes they’re super legit like saying we need to focus on work because life is crazy right now and we’re running out of time to get everything done that we have to. But that doesn’t mean that we should quit dating entirely because that’s not going to do anything for us in the long run. It can be tough to think about the future when our days are so full right now, but it’s really important to think that far ahead. So if you really want to land your soulmate, you truly need to stop with the excuses already. And tell your friends that they have to tell you to shut up essentially when you claim you’re too busy to date. If you never date, you can’t meet your person. Plain and simple.

( 1. Believing In Yourself )

☆ The thing is that if you don’t believe in yourself and support yourself in all that you do, from your health goals to your work challenges, then no one else is going to. You can’t not love yourself — you really should treat yourself like the best friend that you could possibly have. If you can’t do that, how can you expect a guy to, and how can you expect him to end up being your soulmate? So believe in yourself no matter what. It sounds super cheesy and you may think it’s way too silly, but sometimes you need something cheesy. It’s not a bad thing and it’s pretty good for you. Believe in yourself and think that you absolutely deserve to fall in love and find someone who you can share your life with. Because you really do deserve it. And until you can think positively about yourself and the way that you’re living your life, that soulmate is never going to show.