#the amount of empathy i have likes to swing from not enough to way too much at random

[firestorm09890]

hey it's that anon from the other day about meursault. I am also an autistic individual with low empathy and can therefore only partially sympathize with Meursault. I think that you've done a reading of The Stranger that is very sympathetic and that there is value in that, but I've always read The Stranger as both a story about the absurdity of connection and a story about a Frenchman in colonial Algiers who doesn't understand himself or his own biases. You mention heat stroke but I think it's worth considering: is Meursault's perception of events realiable? Could he be unconsciously struggling with his complicity in oppressive violence against a colonial subject?

You raise very good points. I will be considering this. It’s a bit late to change the wording on that og post though

[endlesslystarlitskies]

Lost and Found- Part 3

A/N: Here is the third chapter! I’ve finally finished the game and have a firm idea of where I am taking this story, so I’m excited! However, I am realizing that I signed up for a pretty long fic, so. . .we’ll see how that goes. I don’t know how I feel about this chapter, so please let me know if you like it!  Genre: Horror, action, adventure, Slow-Burn,  

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Named Reader (Named but not Described)

Summary: Ella was one of the missing hikers who was kidnapped by the villagers. She narrowly escaped being sacrificed, but her friends weren’t so lucky. Managing to survive out in the woods with her previous skills and knowledge, she runs into Leon, and that meeting begins the longest, most dangerous adventure of her life as she tries to help him save the girl she saw being taken into the church. What will happen along the way? Only one way to find out.  

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, Death, Murder, Monsters, Suicidal ideations mentioned, Ella has little regard for her own life and is dealing with the loss of someone closest to her while also fighting to survive with waning self-preservation instincts. Please be cautious if that triggers you. Word Count: 6,439 Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Story Masterlist xXx

They stopped by the merchant’s table, as they figured they should stock up while they could. That, and they had found a ruby in one of the villagers houses, strangely enough, so they sold that to him for a good amount of Pesetas.

It was almost as if the Merchant was aware of what had happened back in the village. He was still his charismatic self, but Ella could have swore he had given her a look of empathy for a moment.

She didn’t comment on it, just thanking him for the ammo and some first aid spray before she and Leon went on their way.

Getting the door open, they followed the path into what looked like a barricade post, though there were only two villagers inside which were quickly taken care of. Ella took care of the bear traps, but just as she was about to get the last one, a female villager with a small sickle came out from behind the boxes, taking a swing at her that she barely dodged before she fell on her ass.

Leon moved quickly, shooting her in the chest before kicking her to the ground, the female villager now unmoving.

“Sorry, must’ve slipped.”

Ella stopped then, her eyes slightly wide as she replayed what he had said in her head. Leon turned, looking over at her.

“You okay?” He asked, but Ella could only shake her head as she got to her feet, giving him an amused look and barely containing her laughs behind pursed lips.

“Did you just trash talk that villager?” She finally said, a giggle escaping past her lips as she did. “What are you, some cheesy 90’s action hero?” Saying those words out loud made it impossible to hold in her laugh, and she had to put a hand to her mouth to keep herself from being too loud.

She couldn’t help it. After everything, the air had been quiet and a bit tense (because of her), and this had been just what she needed to feel the last of her sorrow fade back into the dark corner of her mind.

As her laughs finally subsided, she sucked in a breath, looking at Leon. He was smiling. Not a half smile, either. A real smile, that pulled at both edges of his lips. It was small but it was there.

“Oh my god, you’re smiling.” She called out before she could stop herself. “I can’t believe it. It’s a miracle.” She said in mock awe, and Leon rolled his eyes as he shook his head.

She’s back.

“Believe it or not, I do smile.” He responded in an annoyed tone, though Ella knew he wasn’t actually annoyed. She could tell by the look in his eyes.

“If you had told me that before, I wouldn’t have believed you, but now I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. The eighth wonder of the world.” She teased, watching him visibly deflate with a sigh.

“I liked you better when you were quiet.” He muttered, but his words were unserious.

“Well, then you shouldn’t have spouted out some cheesy one liner, because that has got to be the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while.” She had to stop herself from laughing again just at the thought of it.

“Happy to entertain.” He breathed out as he started forward, and Ella couldn’t see it, but a hint of the previous smile was still there on his lips.

xXx

They didn’t make it far before the low rumbling of something could be heard up ahead, Ella being unable to make out what the sound was. It sounded familiar, but neither she or Leon could place it.

He gave her a look, and she knew he was telling her to be careful, Ella nodding in return as they both slowly moved forward, the sound getting louder as they did.

Getting further up the hill, Ella noticed there was a figure standing ahead, as if waiting for them, and it was holding a chainsaw.

The sound was a chainsaw.

Before she could move a little bit back so they could figure out a plan, there was the snap of a stick under Ella’s boot, her eyes widening.

She didn’t even have time to wonder if the thing had heard them, because the chainsaw roared to life as it let out a screech, running towards them at a fast speed.

Ella jumped to the side, barely dodging the guy as he swung the chainsaw around wildly. She pulled out her gun, and she tried to get a shot on him, but he was moving too much and too fast, immediately going for Leon next.

Leon rolled out of the way, landing in a kneeling position and firing a few shots that got the guy in the chest. He didn’t even flinch, which meant he would be harder than regular villagers to take down.

“Did you even feel that?” Ella heard Leon grumble in aggravation, but it was then she saw the two villagers coming up behind him.

“Leon watch out!” She called, quickly getting to her feet as Leon narrowly dodged an ax coming down on him.

Ella had aimed her gun to take care of the villagers, but one grabbed hold of Leon before she got a shot, the taller man holding Leon’s arms back as he struggled.

This wouldn’t be much of a concern, Leon being in harder predicaments and usually able to break the hold and take care of the problem, but the man with the cloth sack over his head revved his chainsaw, ready to strike Leon.

Ella panicked, turning her gun on him and shooting him instead in hopes of stopping him or at least gaining his attention, but it was no use, the thing not reacting the slightest bit and Ella unable to get a headshot.

Thinking quickly and knowing she only had seconds, Ella ran forward, before leaping onto the man's back just as he was about to slash Leon with the weapon. In the next second, Ella pulled out her knife and stabbed it right into its head.

The force of her weight suddenly hitting him knocked the chainsaw man off balance, and the knife in his head stunned him, giving Leon the time to finally break the hold of the villager and flip him over his shoulder, taking care of him with his knife.

Ella could only be relieved for a second before she saw the chainsaw begin to come around the guy's shoulder with the intent to hit her, Ella releasing the grip she had around the thing’s neck and falling to the ground and out of the way of the chainsaw- well, mostly.

It just barely nicked her shoulder, tearing the flesh there, and Ella sucked in a breath through her teeth, her hand finding the wound as she fell back onto the dirt. She saw Leon behind the man as he turned towards her, distracted, and she watched as Leon pulled out his shotgun.

Ella took that as her cue to get out of the way, scrambling to the side and giving Leon the opening to land a shot directly to the things chest, creating a gaping hole in its back as it finally fell to the floor dead.

“Felt that, didn’t you fucker?” Ella gave a try at her own little one liner, looking at Leon with a grin. However, she was surprised to see anger in his eyes.

“Are you crazy?!” He practically growled in a low voice, taking Ella back.

“What?” She was confused, before she realized what he meant, anger replacing the confusion. “He was about to kill you, Leon. I saved your life, again! You should be thanking me!” She pointed out in indignation as she got to her feet, but that only seemed to piss him off more.

“You could have gotten killed. That was reckless.” Ella scoffed.

“Ah right, because being careful is so easy out here.” She rolled her eyes, not understanding what his problem was.

Leon was quiet at that, but she could see the anger hadn’t subsided in the slightest bit, meeting his hard gaze with one of her own as she refused to back down.

He seemed to understand then that he wouldn’t get anywhere with this, opting to take a deep breath through his nose, before reaching into his pack.

“Take off your overshirt.” His words caught her off guard, Ella not understanding why she would do that until she saw him take out a small first aid can and a bandage.

She debated on being defiant, but decided against it as she knew it was pointlessly confrontational, and she didn’t want to argue over something so stupid.

Why was he even mad at her? Sure, what she had done was dangerous, but he could have died had she not done what she did. She just didn’t understand it.

She shrugged the left part of her flannel off, wincing at the pain the movement brought, and Leon moved over to her. She held her hand out, but he didn’t give the items to her, not even offering an explanation as to why.

She supposed she didn’t need one. It was closer to the back of her shoulder, so she really wouldn’t be able to do it herself, at least not easily. She just sighed, before turning around to give him a better look.

“It’s not bad. It’s barely bleeding.” She told him, there being only a bit of blood smeared on the palm of her hand. She hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but it had seemed like a small gash, so she wasn’t worried, and he didn’t need to be either.

He didn’t respond, and she guessed he was giving her the silent treatment, rolling her eyes once more.

The silent treatment was a bit childish in her opinion, but if that was how he wanted to act, then fine.

She grit her teeth when he sprayed the wound with the antiseptic, the sting catching her off guard as she glared at him over her shoulder.

A bit of warning would have been nice.

She didn’t voice that out loud, biting her tongue instead.

Ella felt herself freeze, however, when she felt his fingers brush against her back as he moved her shirt further out of the way for the bandage, not expecting the gentle touch to send goosebumps over her skin.

Stupid, traitorous body.

When he was finally done, she practically shrugged him off of her, putting her now slightly torn flannel shirt back on as she refused to meet his eyes.

Mostly out of anger, but also, just slightly, because of the way her body reacted to him.

“Just be careful. Please.” Was all he said before he turned, and Ella let out another sigh as she relented for the time being.

She moved over to the man, putting her boot to his head as she pulled out her knife.

Way to make waves, Chainsaw man.

xXx

They had just gotten out of the tense and serious atmosphere, just to end right back up in it as they continued up the hill. At least it was for different reasons this time. Ella tried to think of a way to cut the tension, but they came upon a tripwire at the top of the stone steps they had come across.

“You wanted to learn how to disarm these, right?” Leon spoke up, slightly surprising Ella, who had thought she’d be the one to break the silence between them.

“Uh, yeah.” She answered after a moment, and Leon gestured for her to get closer, Ella moving to do that so she could watch as he disarmed the trap. She was leaning forward, palms on her knees as her head was over his shoulder, Leon crouching in front of the device.

“That’s it?” She asked, slightly surprised by how simple it looked. “I feel like I could do that in my sleep.” She chuckled as she turned to look at Leon at the same time he turned to her, her nose brushing against his.

Ella’s heart jumped in her chest, and she straightened almost immediately as she willed the heat from her cheeks. There was a smirk pulling at Leon’s lips as he cast his eyes downward for a moment, clearly amused by what had just occurred, as well as Ella’s reaction. His lips parted as he went to speak, and Ella could only assume he was about to say something that would further her embarrassment, quickly moving to cut him off.

“Okay cool, anyway, um. . .I’ll try not to be a dumbass and blow myself up with the next one we find, but I can’t make any promises.” She joked, hoping that would help hide her embarrassment, but perhaps talking about her getting herself killed hadn’t been the best way to go about that, as the amusement left Leon’s expression, his lips falling back into the usual light frown. He stood up straight, just giving her a nod of acknowledgement, before he continued on, the two back to square one.

The good news was, he didn’t comment on what had just happened, and that was all Ella could care about at that moment. She couldn’t believe she had even been that close to him. At the time, she was just trying to see what he had been doing and memorize it in case she’d need it, but had she known, she would have given him some space. Though, he hadn’t mentioned it either, to be fair, but maybe he was just being polite, or he hadn’t even noticed.

Ella pushed away the thoughts, not wanting to think back on them anymore, lest the embarrassment swirling in her stomach never leave her, and she focused on the walk forward. As they got to the top of the steps, Ella noticed the large house for the first time. It was unlike any of the other houses they had come across, being bigger and made of stone instead of wood, and Ella knew they had to get into it.

When the gate leading ahead was locked, she was proven right. However, the large wooden doors to the house were also locked, so they had to find an alternative way in. Fortunately the back door was unlocked, and the two made their way inside.

When they passed by the stairs, Ella noticed the almost hidden wooden door, only seeing it due to the same colored handle sticking out. She opened it, excepting some kind of small storage room, but was instead met with a villager, the room being a bathroom. She panicked, a light yelp coming from her mouth as she pulled out her gun and immediately landed a head shot, which fortunately took care of the guy very quickly as he fell back onto the toilet. She heard the lightest chuckle, turning to see Leon looking at her in amusement. Embarrassment once again filled her as she realized how silly that must have looked.

“What? I didn’t expect the room under the stairs to be a bathroom, let alone have someone in it!” She defended, feeling embarrassed by her reaction. However, she quickly realized the opportunity to lighten the air had presented itself once more as she turned back to the villager.

“Poor guy just finished using the bathroom. He never saw it coming.” She tsk’d, shaking her head. Her antics were rewarded with a half-smile and a slight shake of the head before Leon turned back to finish clearing the house, and Ella found herself smiling as well. She was glad they could get over hiccups like what happened before quickly. Traveling in a tense atmosphere like that was not pleasant.

“I’ll just give him some privacy.” She closed the door, the hinges creaking a bit and adding to the humor of the situation somehow.

“Not going to look for any Pesetas?” She heard Leon ask from the other room, and she was glad he was joking back with her, hoping it meant that the tense atmosphere was finally gone.

“No, I think I’m good.” She chuckled as she passed a wooden stand, opening the drawer it held. She smiled as she found a jewel, picking it up and showing it to Leon. “See, I’ve got this.” She grinned, and he let out a breathy laugh, making Ella’s grin turn into a smile. They were definitely back to normal.

xXx

The house was pretty large, and very fancy compared to every other house they’d seen.

“Not too shabby. Someone is showing up their neighbors.” Leon commented as he looked at all the decorations, and Ella hummed her agreement, picking up a picture of two people and recognizing the villager she had just killed. She grimaced, before putting the picture down and moving on.

“Hey, there’s a locked cabinet over here.” Leon called, having gone down a small hallway by the kitchen. “It’s got a strange three symbol combination lock.”

“What are the symbols?” Maybe they could find the combination somewhere in the house.

“Uh. . .Chalice, wheat, baby-” Ella’s brows furrowed. Leon wasn’t kidding, as that was definitely strange.

“Alright, keep a look out to see if the key’s somewhere around here.” She made her way up the stairs, her eyes scanning her surroundings as she got to the top floor. There wasn’t much that was interesting, other than the fancy but locked door with a weird looking hole in it, but she did find a book. She flipped through the pages, though she noticed some sort of marking on one of the pages in the middle that she had barely caught a glimpse of.

Finding it once more, she read the page, seeing that three words were underlined in pencil.

Crop, pig, babe.

Well, that was relatively easy to find.

“Hey, try the crop, pig, and baby!” She called, turning her head. However, Leon was not downstairs like she had thought, and was instead standing right beside her. Ella jumped, gasping in surprise.

“Oh my god.” She breathed as she tried to calm her heart down. How did she not hear him come up the stairs? And how did he manage to keep scaring the shit out of her?

“No need to yell, I’m right here.” She could hear the smirk in his voice and she turned to glare at him. His expression was smug, Leon clearly pleased with himself. She had no idea what she had done to him to make him enjoy messing with her so much, if he even did it on purpose. Maybe she was just jumpy, which was entirely possible considering what she had been through the past few days.

“Yeah, I realized. Thanks.” She sassed, before letting out a breath as her heart finally calmed. Heading back downstairs, they got the cabinet open, finding a crystal ball.

���What’s this?” Leon questioned as he examined it, but Ella realized quickly.

“Oh, I think it goes to that big fancy door up there! It was locked, but it had a hole in it with that symbol that’s everywhere, and that thing looks just about the right size.” She explained as she already started her way back to the stairs, gesturing for him to follow her.

Getting in front of the door, Leon put the ball into the hole, and sure enough, it fit.

“Hm. Looks like it has to be oriented the right way.” Leon murmured, before beginning to turn the ball into the hole. Ella took in his look of concentration, his brows pinched together and his eyes focused intently on the design behind the crystal ball as he tried to match it correctly. His jaw was set in determination as the seconds ticked by, Ella able to see the muscles tense as his frustration grew.

It was then she realized she had been staring at him, looking away and hoping Leon had been too focused to notice. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, and god forbid, tease her about it. He was insufferable enough as it was.

However, when almost five minutes passed, Ella finally let out a sigh, deciding to take over as it was clear he wasn’t getting anywhere.

“Move, let me try.” She told him, gently pushing him out of the way. Leon didn’t offer any protest, annoyed at himself and hoping she would have more luck than him.

Ella matched the small balls in the crystal to the symbol perfectly, and it was then that she heard the door unlock. It was a neat mechanism, but Ella also found it weird and unnecessarily complicated.

Despite that, she grinned triumphantly at Leon, proud of herself for getting it pretty quickly.

“What would you ever do without me?” She teased, getting a roll of the eyes as she opened the door.

The room was well lit by a large window, and as they walked inside, Ella couldn’t help but marvel at how nice the room was. She noticed Leon pick up a book, moving to look over his shoulder so she could see it too.

It was labeled village records, and it mentioned how crops were dying and animals and people were starving to death, but then it mentioned lots, Ella’s brows furrowing in confusion at the different numbers, wondering what they meant. Her eyes widened slightly after Leon turned the page again, the next entry making her breath catch in her throat.

“Four outsiders got lost and wandered into the village. We took them to the altar for the ritual. One escaped. Even so, no need to cast lots today.”

Lots were sacrifices. Alice and her friends were sacrifices. . .For Lord Saddler.

As she continued the journey with Leon, her personal interest in this mission became greater.

Ella had been lost in her thoughts for a moment, but as she came back to herself she noticed Leon had closed the book and set it down, glancing over at her in concern. He must have also connected the dots. They weren’t that hard to connect.

“I’m good.” She told him, before turning to continue the search of the room. Fortunately, he didn’t say anything about it.

Her eyes fell on a portrait on the wall ahead, and it didn’t take genius to know who was in it. His robe was far more decorated than the man who had killed Alice and her friends, and it was a purple color. He was also missing the gold necklace with the red jewel, instead holding a large fancy staff. She knew that this man is the one that caused all of this, his name repeating in her head. The only person who could possibly have a portrait of himself in this village.

Lord Saddler.

She brought out her knife, stabbing the blade into the portrait where his face was and pulling it down, destroying it. It didn’t actually do anything to hurt the wretched man, but it made her feel better. A visible representation of what she thought about their stupid Lord and his religion.

As she turned, Leon was once again looking at her, this time with raised brows. “Okay, now I’m good.” Was all she said, putting the knife away and turning to the cabinet she was beside, not wanting to explain herself further.

She appreciated that Leon always seemed to know when not to comment on something.

There wasn’t anything interesting in the cabinet, but fortunately Leon found a key in the desk drawer.

“Alright, let’s go.” He pocketed the key, and Ella nodded, letting him lead the way out of the room.

However, the tall man in the dark hat and robe suddenly filled the doorway, both Ella and Leon stepping back and drawing their weapons. Leon was the first to fire, but the man just walked forward, kicking him in the chest and sending him sliding across the floor.

Despite its obvious futility, Ella continued shooting as well, just about to land a headshot when he stepped forward and grabbed her by the throat. Her airway was cut off, Ella grabbing the man’s hand in an attempt to gain any kind of leverage. He stared at her with scrutiny, as if contemplating something, before he threw her right into the already damaged portrait of Saddler, pain shooting down her back as she crumpled to the floor. She sucked in a breath, coughing as her lungs filled with air again.

Her throat throbbed, and moving sent a shooting pain up her back.

The man grabbed Leon in the same way he had her, carrying the grown man with ease. Ella looked for her gun, but it was across the room and out of reach, though Ella still tried to make her way towards it.

“Your blood has accepted the gift.” She heard the man say, just before two gunshots and glass breaking was heard.

An ally?

Ella turned, seeing the shadow of a person disappear as the man looked in the direction of the window, throwing Leon into the wooden frame of the bed.

After that, the man simply left the room, uncaring of either of them.

She wasn’t going to question it or complain, just glad he hadn’t killed Leon, who was slowly getting up as he moved over to her.

“You alright?” He asked, his voice a bit hoarse and out of breath, but otherwise normal.

Ella nodded, but she winced as she tried to get up, the pain in her back halting her immediately.

Leon took her by the arms, helping her stand up straight, and she grit her teeth as an audible pop sounded in her back, though the worst of the pain immediately subsided, Ella letting out a breath.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She responded, her own voice hoarse but undamaged. “Gotta say though, getting thrown like a ragdoll is not my favorite thing.” She could only joke about what just happened, as for a moment there she thought they were going to die.

“I’d have to agree.” He murmured as he released her, moving to grab his gun.

“Why’d he just leave though? And what did he mean by gift in your blood?” She questioned, confused why either of them were alive right now. He had clearly had the advantage, and obviously gunshots didn’t faze him much so she didn’t know why he had stopped even with their unknown ally. It just didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like the sound of it.” Leon sounded genuinely confused himself, probably wondering the same.

“Is there any situation where those words wouldn’t sound creepy?” She asked him as she moved towards her own gun. Her back was sore now, as well as her throat, but considering what happened she supposed she was lucky to get away with just that.

“I guess not.” Ella holstered her gun, looking to the broken window.

“Any idea who our mystery helper is?” She asked, having so many questions about what just occurred.

“No, I didn’t get a look at them.” He answered, though there was something behind his voice that made Ella think he had an idea as to who it was. She wouldn’t question it further, however, as he clearly didn’t want to mention it.

“Yeah I guess you were a bit preoccupied.” Her best way of coping with traumatic situations was humor, if that wasn’t already apparent. Ella moved to the door, cautiously opening it and peeking out, but there was no sign of the tall man. “I manage to avoid him all this time, and then I’m with you for a few hours and look what happens.” She tsk’d, though there wasn’t any real bite to her voice.

“Sorry about that. You asked to come along.” Leon pointed out as they made their way down the stairs.

“Right, but I think we’ve noticed by now that I don’t make the best life decisions.” That one earned her an unamused look, but she just grinned, finding it worth it.

xXx

As they left the house, Ella was ready to get the large gate open. However, the sound of whining and whimpering caught both her and Leon’s attention. They rounded the edge of the house, Ella’s heart falling at the sight of the trapped wolf.

“Oh no,” She murmured, before slowly moving forward with the intent to help the poor creature. She half-expected Leon to scold her, but to her pleasant surprise, he was right behind her, the both of them prying open the bear trap and releasing the wolf before stepping back. It limped a few steps away, whimpering lightly, before looking back at them. Ella gave the wolf a small smile, and soon it was running off into the woods.

“Take care of yourself buddy.” Leon murmured behind her, and she looked at him. Somehow she was not surprised that he had a soft spot for animals. She didn’t call it out though.

“We’ve got to make sure to set off all the bear traps we come across from now on.” She told him, and he didn’t voice any objection as they once again headed towards the gate.

xXx

Ella could not get what the man said out of her mind as they walked, having passed a small hut and a cave. There was something about it that was setting warning bells off in her head. She tried to think about the things she had seen in the villages when she was in the woods, or even what she had went through, though that was harder to think about.

However, as she recalled something she had seen the man in the hat himself do on her first night in the woods, her eyes widened.

“Leon-” She grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Your eyes, let me see your eyes.” She practically ordered, the blonde’s brows furrowing as he opened his mouth to question what she was going on about. Ella didn’t wait as she took his chin in her hands, letting go of his arm and brushing his hair out of his eyes so she could get a better look. She was too focused to notice the way his body had tensed, her worry about her fear giving her a one track mind.

Fortunately the sun was on her side. Unfortunately, her fear was confirmed.

“You’re infected. . .” She murmured in realization, Leon taking a gente hold of her her wrist and freeing his chin.

“What?” Surely he hadn’t heard her right.

“You’re infected Leon.” She repeated in a more firm voice. “It must have been when he took you.” There was no other time it could have happened- unless it was before Leon ran into her. “I saw the man inject a villager they had found hiding with a syringe my first day in the woods. They tied him up to a wooden post and left him there. I tried to help him when the villagers left for church later on, but when I got there, he was. . .angry and violent. His eyes had these tiny black veins-” She paused. “His skin did too!” She remembered at that moment, and she took his arm again, straightening it out so she could see the inside of his elbow. “See! There-” His visible veins were darker than normal, though they weren’t fully black yet, and they couldn’t see any veins they weren’t supposed to, so that was a good sign, but he was still infected.

Leon’s eyes scanned his inner arm, processing.

“Shit.” He could say that again. “How long did it take for the guy you saw to change?” He asked her, sounding more calm than she would be if she was in his position but his eyes not leaving his arm.

“Um. . .I don’t know, maybe a little less than 8 or 9 hours?” She was guessing, but she had spent a full night out in the woods waiting for her chance to try and help. Leon didn’t seem happy with the news, which could only mean he didn’t have much time left if he was following the same path. Ella had to guess her earlier assumption was right and he was infected when the man took him, which meant it had been a couple hours.

Ella was taken back when he turned, beginning to walk forward once more, while she was frozen, processing this new information.

“You coming?” He called to her when he noticed she hadn’t moved, and Ella gave him an incredulous look.

“Leon, you’re infected! You could turn into one of those things at any moment! We have no idea how the effects of the infection differ from person to person! I don’t know about you, but I know for a fact I couldn’t take you in a fight! And what if that girl is with us? You co-” She hadn’t even realized he had walked back towards her until he rested his hand on her uninjured shoulder, cutting off her rant.

“Hey, It’s gonna be okay. If I feel like I’m losing control, then I’ll take myself out of the situation.” He promised her. “Until then, Ashley still needs me, and I can’t abandon her. But you can leave, if you want. I won’t blame you.”

Ella found her anxiety and worry fading at the mention of who she assumed to be the President’s daughter, as well as his promise. She knew there were still so many risks associated with going forward, but he was right. They couldn’t leave Ashley behind. Who knows what those cult freaks want with the president’s daughter, but she was sure it wasn’t good. She sighed, relenting.

“Who said anything about leaving, or abandoning her? I was just making sure you were aware of what it all meant, with the crazy way you handled something that would have had me- Well, not being calm, that’s for sure.” She decided against what she was originally going to say, as that would not have been a fun joke for Leon.

Leon seemed to appreciate her making a joke, and maybe she saw relief in his eyes that she wasn’t leaving, but that could have been her imagination.

She had never planned to leave, and she knew that. The information had just been. . .shocking, and saddening. Leon’s fate was somehow more uncertain than it was before, and much darker as well.

Hell, maybe there’s a cure lying around somewhere. They’d have to hold out hope, because otherwise she didn’t see Leon making it out of this. And if Leon didn’t make it out of this, then Ashley likely wasn’t making it out of this either. All Ashley would have left is her, and she wasn’t a highly trained and skilled agent, let alone a hero.

The only thing they could do was move forward, and hope for the best, even if hope was a hard thing to find in this situation.

xXx

They made their way through the village beyond the gate, it being one that Leon had already been through before. Now, however, he had a key that could get him into the large building on the other side, which was a good thing.

The bad thing, however, was the tower beside the building had suddenly collapsed, blocking their way.

“Of course.” Ella had muttered, not at all surprised that their advancement was made harder, as nothing on this journey had been easy thus far.

They had to take down some of the scariest dogs she had ever seen, their teeth huge and terrifying, and Ella had made a quip about reconsidering her love for dogs, which had earned her a chuckle from Leon.

Soon, they found a ladder leading down into a tunnel that would get them to the other side, which would be easier than jumping down from the platform by the house as Ella wasn’t sure her back could handle the tuck and roll at the moment.

Making it out the other side, they got into the large building, being greeted by an altar and another large portrait of Lord Saddler, and Ella rolled her eyes.

“Geez, this guy is really full of himself isn’t he?” She grumbled with a shake of her head.

“I think you have to be to start a cult.” Leon quipped back, and he had Ella there. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if all these portraits of his ugly grin and his stupid robes were necessary.

She took a look at the altar, seeing some candles but they were spaced out enough that she thought she could definitely make the jump.

Taking a step back to get a running start, she started forward, using the altar as steps and jumping up, before lodging her blade into the portrait and allowing gravity to do the rest as she fell back to the stone. With a satisfied grin, she put her knife away and hopped down, looking to Leon to see him staring at her with a look that said “really?”.

“What? It makes me feel better.” She shrugged, and he didn’t comment on it further as they made their way through the building. Opening the side door, the first thing Ella noticed was the glow of a purple flame, her eyes widening.

The Merchant!

She stepped out, a smile coming to her lips as she saw she was right.

“Hey! I was starting to worry we wouldn’t see you again.” She greeted him, the Merchant laughing.

“Oh don’t you worry, I’ll be around Miss. I like to make money after all.” He assured her, and she was glad to hear it, even if she didn’t understand how he got around. Hey, she didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth- though maybe that wasn’t the best analogy. Either way, she wasn’t going to question it.

His items were good, so she was going to take advantage of his offers.

Both Leon and Ella stocked up on ammo after selling what they could. Ella had been picking up the knives she found still, purely to sell them and get extra pesetas, so she got a bit more than Leon.

“You know, I have half a mind to ask you where you get all this stuff.” Ella spoke up as she and Leon pocketed all the supplies they bought, and the Merchant responded with a bellowing laugh, Ella having a feeling she wasn’t about to get a straight answer.

“Does it really matter how I’ve procured these items as long as they’re up to standard?” Yup, just as she suspected.

“I guess not.” She sighed with a light smile as she clipped the new holster she got on the opposite hip to her pouch. It would be much safer than keeping it tucked in her shorts, that was for sure.

“That’s the spirit.” He winked, and Ella chuckled, holstering her gun and looking at Leon, silently asking if he was ready. The blonde nodded, putting the bullet in his gun and cocking it before he started ahead. “Don’t get yourselves killed now!” The Merchant called after them before laughing.

“You know, even after everything I’ve seen so far, he might be the strangest.” Ella murmured, and Leon hummed his agreement as they walked up in the incline.

As they got closer, Ella realized she recognized the area they were in, her brows furrowing as she tried to place where she had seen it.Her eyes widened in realization a moment later.

They were right in front of the church.

[taechaos]

Freaky Idea

Pt. 2 of New Idea

pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut

synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.

warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation

word count: 3.8k

When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.

The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.

The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.

The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.

Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it. 

“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.

His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”

“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”

"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"

"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least. 

“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself. 

He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.

“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin. 

“The fridge is fucking empty!”

“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”

“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”

The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion. 

He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”

A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily. 

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.

“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing. 

Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.

A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs. 

“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”

You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.

Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?

“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees. 

“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening. 

“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”

He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.

“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”

“Deformed fetuses?”

“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane. 

“Are these real stories?” 

“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.

Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle. 

“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”

He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”

You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare. 

“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”

He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life. 

“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”

“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”

“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”

You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.

“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”

“Police intervention?”

“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”

“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”

“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?”

“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”

“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention. 

“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.

“No…”

“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”

“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”

“You did it once!”

“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”

You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”

Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth. 

While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.

“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”

You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?” 

“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”

And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him. 

“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”

It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of? 

Could it be that you’re two of the same?

Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.

It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”

“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”

“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”

His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out. 

“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”

“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity. 

“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra. 

“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”

“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”

Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life?  Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice… 

[deadontheinsidebut]

⤷ Day 11: Kageyama Tobio + stargazing

—Synopsis: even at one year of marriage, Kageyama continues to look at you like he did that one night, the night he realized you were the prettiest star in the sky

Word Count: 1.2k

Fluffvember Masterlist

One year anniversaries always hit different, especially when it’s for one full year of marriage.

You and Tobio were celebrating this milestone together at a local hotpot place and his former team was getting drunk off sake so you two went out to get a breather. It wasn’t that you didn’t love the rowdy bunch; after all, you were their manager for two years in high school.

You had to admit, you were getting a little tipsy as well from the alcohol and was wobbling a bit as you travelled up the hill with your husband. Kageyama clicked his tongue before throwing his suit jacket over your head to keep you from the cold.

“We both know how much of an idiot you are when drunk but I didn’t think you’d lose your head this quickly,” Kageyama mutters as he laces his fingers with yours in order to keep you balanced.

You managed nothing more than a drowsy smile as you leaned into your lover. He’s grown a lot since high school, you thought to yourself, and not just in the physical sense. Sure, he’s a 6’2 188lb hunk of volleyball prodigy, but he’s also developed a sense of empathy and compassion that he was missing for so long.

When the two of you reach your destination not too far from the restaurant, you’re astonished. Right before you was an array of twinkling stars that expanded far past your eyes’ horizon. Your audible gasp makes Kageyama chuckle before gently helping you sit on the grass.

You point out the brightest star you see and Kageyama doesn’t understand a clue of what you’re explaining and that’s due to both your incoherence when drunk and his lack of knowledge on astrology.

After elaborating on all the stars you could recognize, you raise your left hand and spread your fingers out before you. You’re admiring the ring your husband had proposed to you with and that unlocks a memory of one starry night so long ago...

“Kageyama, that’s enough practice for one day!” You lecture, pointing your finger at him and furrowing your eyebrows as he sets the ball to Hinata for the 34th after practice had already ended.

He scoffs at you without looking in your direction, “who are you? My mother?”

You laugh humourlessly, “no, but I am your girlfriend,” the sound of the ball hitting the floor echoes through the gym as Kageyama finally looks your way, “and as your girlfriend, I’m telling you that you’ve done more than enough for today... let your body rest.”

He huffs a sigh as he realizes you had a point and mumbles a goodbye to an enthusiastic Hinata before grabbing his bag with one hand and yours in the other. You wave goodbye to the orange-haired boy as well before catching up to your boyfriend.

Nothing screamed overkill like walking home together an hour after the whole team had left and the moon was directly up in the sky. You shake your head at your boyfriend’s overworking antics but you can’t help but feel a sense of pride at how hard he works to fulfill his dream.

Taking your bag from his hand and replacing it with your hand was instinctual and he squeezed your hand back as if it were a natural reaction for him, which it was.

The road home was tiring as most of it was uphill. Not to mention the cold air was enough to push you down the hill if it weren’t for Tobio’s support.

“This is why I’m always telling you to workout with me,” he complains, “you’re like a feather.”

“I am not!” You declare before ripping your hand out of his and marching up the hill by yourself in furious determination.

But the sight you saw was not something you were prepared for. On the top of the hill was the perfect view to the starry heavens. Kageyama jogs up after you spewing random phrases of how working out would be an amazing bonding experience for the two of you when he’s cut short by the sight as well. Judging from the agape expression on his face, he was just as bewildered as you were.

His hand is grabbing onto yours again in a subconscious act of love. How could seeing millions of stars in one place not make you think of what a minuscule amount of existence you have in this lifetime and it’s scary.

“Are you having and existential crisis?” He asks, predicting your very thought. He’s used to it by now, your overly philosophical thoughts that are borderline too corny to be spoke aloud, but that’s all part of your charm.

“So what if I am?” You respond, still marvelling at the stars.

He pulls you down towards the grass with your head on his chest. This allows you to see the stars right above you and it’s quite the experience.

You start to chuckle mischievously before swinging your legs over your boyfriend’s torso to lock him in place before attacking him in a fit of tickles. And oh my god if there was anyone in the world who was weak to tickles, it would be Kageyama Tobio.

He’s in the middle of both a laugh and a grunt of struggle but either way you’re satisfied just to see the smile on his face.

“This is way better than that disgusting frown from earlier in the gym,” you say, moving to get off your boyfriend but he holds you in place.

“I’m sorry for being so disrespectful in the gym earlier, you know I’m a snappy idiot.”

You shake your head reassuringly before laying your cheek on his chest, “mmm, it’s alright Tobio,” you murmur, “I’m just happy you’re happy.”

He pushes you up by the shoulders and his eyes do not waver when he says his next words, “you know I’ll love you forever right?”

It was so silly, really, because only a silly little boy would promise a forever love with his high school girlfriend, but his eyes held the same look of determination he has when setting a ball and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him otherwise. All you could do was nod in pure elation as he pulls you back down into an embrace.

“One day, I’ll get you a ring far bigger and sparklier than the stars in your sky...”

The memory dissipates as you feel your eyelids getting heavy. Your body automatically sinks into your husband’s and he scoffs at the sight before buttoning the top button of his suit jacket that was currently hung over your shoulders in order to keep you warm.

Kageyama can hear the team’s scuttling up the hill and Tanaka saying “there’s Mister and Missus Kageyama all snuggled up on the grass.”

A dash of pink covers his cheeks as he pulls you closer to protect you from nothing. It seems as though he was able to make your dream come true after all as the dazzling light from your wedding ring reflected off the gleam in his eyes.

Fluffvember Taglist: @kenmakodzu @millie-mint @mrs-kuroojinguji @h4nabi @instantmiya @todoroki-vivian @galaxyvixen-blog @haiikyuuns @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl @stargirlara @sachirou-senpai @celamoon @macchiatoast @cowbeboppy @astrxrism @avis-writeshq @tsanimefic @katsushimaa @bbakougo @luvkeigo @e-wwis @fee-btheweeb @a-bakuhoe @patricia-ceballos @imnothere-butiam @emsvegetables @animatedarchives @kodzusamu @blushingbaka @churochuu @bulba-baby @abuliawrites @kacchansmc @yuueisteria @findityourselffsworld @shibayamasbae @tamaguchi @archivednikes @tpwkatsumu @zoamour @madskaay @thesecondapplepienation @doodleniella @xx-tiny-dinosaur-xx @deephasoceanmagic @louminere @trippiekay @waitforitillwritemywayout @kellesvt @blueberryong

[collapse-and-comfort]

So @lurkingwhump completely spoiled me by requesting I use this post (one of my favorite things) by @aliceinwhumperland “where the whumpee is scared of the medical personnel because of something the whumper did to them. They’re struggling against the sympathetic medics, and the caretaker just can’t take it, so they enter the treatment room and manage the calm the terrified whumpee down with loving touches and soothing words, promising to stay there with the whumpee.” I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed writing this! Thank you so much!!! 💕💕💕

(CW: Hospital setting, implied medical torture, panic attacks)

Leave it alone, Caretaker told themself as their nurse finished up stitching their split brow. They could hear raised voices coming from a room down the hall. They didn’t have to know it was coming from Whumpee’s room to know it was coming from Whumpee’s room.

Though the medical staff hadn’t given them much choice in the matter, Caretaker regretted leaving Whumpee’s side. They nodded their way through the nurse’s recommendations for further wound care. They were too polite to say they’d had enough wounds in their lifetime and that they knew that song and dance by heart. To their credit, they waited until the nurse finished speaking before stalking off toward Whumpee.

Just barely.

They broke into a jog when they heard a crash and shouting,

Shit!

In the room, there was a curtain obstructing their view, but that didn’t stop Caretaker. The metallic slide of the curtain rings on the rail didn’t pause the scene in front of them. A stand laid on its side and various medical supplies were scattered in a chaotic pattern on the orderly blue and white checkered tiles.

And then there was Whumpee. They stood, chest heaving, as they fought with Doctor and Nurse who were trying to reason with them. Whumpee looked helpless and utterly pathetic in their pale, spotted gown. Their pallor made them look like they were fit for a grave, rather than a hospital bed.

“No! NO! Let me go!” Whumpee snarled as they tried to pull away. They would have, Caretaker guessed, had they not been so weakened. “Don’t touch me!”

“Easy,” the doctor said as they adjusted their gentle, gloved grip on Whumpee’s wrist and pressed a hand to their shoulder, trying to keep them still or get them back onto the bed. “You’re safe, Whumpee. Please try to-”

“No!” Whumpee yelled as they tried even more desperately to wrench themself free.

Caretaker knew in the pit of their stomach this was not going to end well.

“Whumpee,” Caretaker said. They didn’t raise their voice. It was soft and casual. They were there.

Doctor’s attention flickered over to Caretaker. They expected to be rebuked, but whatever authoritative words were on the Doctor’s lips fell short when they recognized Caretaker as someone who could potentially help calm Whumpee.

Cursing and writhing, Whumpee took that opportunity to twist violently enough that Nurse and Doctor had no choice but to relinquish their holds. They moved backward with uncoordinated steps and they glared at the other three people in the room. Their face was bloodless and their mouth was agape, as though there were no words for the pain and no amount of breath they could draw could quell their panic.

Caretaker moved next to Doctor and Nurse. They had to do something.

“Can you give us some space?” They asked, keeping their voice low and as unobtrusive as possible. Nurse and Doctor exchanged an inscrutable look, but they both nodded and backed away toward the other side of the room.

For a horrible second, Whumpee looked at Caretaker as though they were a stranger and the lines of their body were unreadable. Caretaker couldn’t guess if they were going to run for the door or take a swing at them. Perhaps they would tear themself apart instead.

“Caretaker?” Whumpee said. Their words came out in a rushed whisper. “ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t, I didn’t!”

They began to gulp air in through their mouth and they stumbled backward until their back struck the wall. Panic flashed over Whumpee’s face when Caretaker reached out to help them and Caretaker retracted their hand.

“Hey, Whumpee,” they said. They felt their throat tighten, but they kept their emotions at bay. “Hey, hey, hey. No one’s going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

Whumpee’s eyes looked distant as their knees gave out and they sank to the ground. They drew their knees up to their chest and they covered their head with their arms. Caretaker thought they were going to collapse in on themself.

“Oh, Whumpee,” Caretaker said. The sharp, desperate sounds of Whumpee’s breathing made Caretaker feel like a blathering idiot, but a stubbornly solemn part of them focused on Whumpee and doing whatever they needed to do for them. “It’s okay, Whumpee. Nobody’s mad at you. We’re all here to help, okay?”

Caretaker heard another stuttered apology as Whumpee cringed tighter into themself. They stepped closer and crouched down, careful not to obscure Whumpee’s path to the open door. They weren’t quite an arm’s length away. Caretaker hoped they seemed unthreatening, that Whumpee could understand them.

“Whumpee?” Caretaker asked. No response. “Hey, Whumpee. It’s Caretaker. You’re safe, okay? I know it doesn't feel like it, but you are. I’m here with you. I’m...I’m going to put a hand on your leg, okay?”

Caretaker put a slow, careful hand on one of Whumpee’s knees, hoping to anchor them. Whumpee allowed the contact, but continued to gasp.

“Deep breath, Whumpee.” Caretaker said. “Can you take a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth?”

Whumpee took some deep, but jolty breaths that quivered back out of them. Then Caretaker heard a change. Their breath was quieter, steadier. Caretaker watched Whumpee’s shoulders move up and then down when they let the breath rush out of their mouth. It could have been an eternity - Caretaker was unsure - but Whumpee’s breathing became something closer to normal. (In Caretaker’s periphery, they saw Nurse gathering the fallen supplies and cart before leaving the room.)

“Good, Whumpee,” they said as they breathed a cautious sigh of relief and moved their hand to Whumpee’s shoulder. “Just like that. Nice and easy.”

Whumpee slid their arms from over their head and tucked them between their thighs and their stomach. Gooseflesh broke out on Caretaker’s arms as they remembered the needle marks on the crook of Whumpee’s arm and on their neck.

Whumpee raised their head and looked at Caretaker, who was uncertain what emotion truly ruled over their features. Sadness, fear, anger and humiliation were warring with one another.

Caretaker ran the pad of their thumb back and forth over Whumpee’s shoulder. Though they were breathing more calmly, Whumpee was shaking. Caretaker wished there was something they could do to change what happened to Whumpee, the vast majority of which they were still clueless about, but they knew that the energy they spent wishing they could change the past was better spent helping Whumpee.

“You need to let the doctors help you,” Caretaker said. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”

Whumpee remained silent. Something glazed over in their eyes and they shook their head ever so slightly.

There was an announcement over the intercom, and bustling in the hallway. Another crisis in another area. Maybe that’s what hospitals were for, the compartmentalization of agonies. Caretaker needed to convince Whumpee of the safety and necessity of their own room, that their pain could be contained.  

“I can’t do this,” came Whumpee’s voice.

“Do what, Whumpee?” Caretaker asked as they continued to rub Whumpee’s shoulder, then their back.

“This,” they said, their words strained and hopeless. They eyed the room and Doctor before looking back down as if in defeat. “Any of this.”

“Okay,” Caretaker whispered as they moved their hand up to brush Whumpee’s hair behind their ear. “It’s okay.”

The words hung in the air and Caretaker grappled for something to say, something that would make everything okay. They continued to run their hand through Whumpee’s hair and their gut twisted. The only goddamn way out was through.

Whumpe’s gaze wandered back up to them, somehow managing to be both pleading and defiant, as though they were daring them and begging them to take away their anguish. Caretaker didn’t know if they were going to lash out at them or fall apart.

It was the latter. Perhaps they were too scared and too tired for it to have been anything else.

Whumpee’s features crumpled and they hugged themself tighter. Tears slid down their face and they began to sob, softly at first, until the force of it wracked their body. Caretaker eased themself down onto the cool floor. They put one arm over Whumpee’s shoulders and put their other hand back on Whumpee’s shoulder.

”Ssshhh.”

“P-please,” Whumpee stuttered. “Please d-don’t ma-make me…”

Their words broke off in a new, pitiable gale of emotion that made Caretaker want to cry.

“Shshsh, it’s okay, Whumpee,” they said as their hold on Whumpee became more protective. “I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anybody hurt you. We’re only going to help. Tell me what you need.”

Whumpee continued to weep, hard and discordant. Caretaker spared a glance at Doctor, who watched on with concern and empathy. Caretaker was thankful for their patience; they hoped against hope that they wouldn’t have to strain it, but they would stay on the floor all night if they had to.

“I want to go home.” Whumpee said after a while. Their words were shaky and hoarse, but more coherent.

Caretaker felt as though the floor had fallen from beneath them. It was blindingly unfair that Caretaker couldn’t make that happen, that Whumpee had to be here and that Caretaker had to dash their hopes of leaving. And how long would they have to be here? How long before the extent of Whumpee’s trauma became clear? The damage that would last the longest was likely not physical.

“I know you do, Whumpee,” Caretaker said. “But we need to make sure you’re okay. And I know you’re scared, I do, but we can’t let you go on hurting.”

Caretaker expected Whumpee to try to pull away, and they expected their crying to ratchet up to an intensity that would surely make them ill, but Whumpee took several shaky breaths, sniffed and cuddled in closer to Caretaker. Maybe it was Caretaker’s imagination, but they didn’t seem to be shaking as hard.

“Can I ask you what we can do to make this easier for you, Whumpee?”

Whumpee drew Caretaker’s arm tighter around them like a reliable old coat, then they tucked their head into Caretaker’s chest. Several quiet, emotional hiccups jostled Whumpee, but Caretaker felt a tiny nod as they stroked Whumpee’s hair.

Whumpee remained silent and after several minutes, Caretaker wondered if they should ask again.

“It’s so bright,” Whumpee said. Their voice seemed distant now, like a drowning man begging for air beneath the waves.

“Can we?” Caretaker asked as they looked up at Doctor and quirked an eyebrow toward the lightswitch. Caretaker wasn’t sure that the room was exceedingly bright, but it didn’t have to make sense to them. Doctor nodded and turned off the ceiling light.

“Good?” Caretaker asked.

“Yeah,” came the uncertain answer.

“Good,” Caretaker said, allowing themself to feel some sense of relief. “Just tell me what you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Doctor discarded their white coat, and it was agreed that the privacy curtain would stay partially open. With each adjustment to the environment, Whumpee slowly - so slowly - began to relax against Caretaker, but Whumpee’s fingers knotted themself in Caretaker’s shirt with sudden fierceness.

“Can you stay?”

‘Yeah,” Caretaker said, not waiting for a response from Doctor. “Yeah, Whumpee. I’m not going anywhere.”

Whumpee’s hand unclenched and they sniffed again.

“We can have a cot brought in,” the doctor said. “It’s no trouble.”

“Let’s get you off the floor,” Caretaker suggested as they gave the doctor a grateful half-smile. “Gonna freeze our asses off down here.”

Whumpee let out a huff that passed for laughter, nodded and allowed Caretaker to help them to their feet. Caretaker offered quiet praises and kept one arm on Whumpee’s side and the other on their arm, keeping them steady. They wrapped their arms around Whumpee and rubbed their back. There was ferocity in their softness as they assured them again they were staying. Hesitantly, Whumpee wrapped their arms around Caretaker’s middle.

Whumpee allowed themself to be guided back to the bed. Once Whumpee’s head touched the pillow, Caretaker smoothed their hair back with the hand that wasn’t holding Whumpee’s.

Whumpee’s grip tightened on Caretaker when Doctor approached, but Caretaker could see that behind the spike of panic, Whumpee was coaching themself, talking themself into taking a breath and staying still.

“That’s good,” Caretaker said with a smile. “Just breathe.”

Doctor seconded the opinion as Nurse walked back into the room holding a paper cup in one hand and a plastic cup of water in the other.

“Can you take these, Whumpee?” Doctor asked as Nurse proffered the pills. Caretaker appreciated their practiced calm more than they could have articulated. “They’ll help you relax.”

Whumpee’s eyes shot up to Caretaker and their head lifted off the pillow.

Caretaker nodded and gave Whumpee’s hand a little squeeze. They kept their bloody language calm, as though they would be untroubled by whatever Whumpee chose. Thankfully, that seemed to be enough because Whumpee accepted the pills.

The duration of the examination and treatment was...surreal. There was tension, yes, but it was offset by Caretaker’s soft words, Doctor and Nurse’s gentle, professional care and the promise they would stop if Whumpee became too uncomfortable. Luckily, most of the questions the doctor asked could be answered with nods or short phrases.

Worst of all was when Whumpee’s wounds were revealed.

“Just look at me,” Caretaker told Whumpee.  

Whumpee did. Their eyes welled with tears, but none of them spilled as Caretaker ran their fingers up and down their forearm and hushed them.

Caretaker had glimpsed the wounds. They wished they hadn’t. There was no bloody mess, no angry infection. What had been done to Whumpee had been clean and clinical. And cruel.

Caretaker was unsure if they believed in hell, but they hoped Whumper was rotting there just the same.

By the time the Doctor and Nurse finished, Whumpee had dropped into a listless calm and Doctor asked to speak with Caretaker in private. They left Whumpee’s side for the second time since they’d arrived in the hospital, but they promised their absence would be brief.

As Doctor spoke, Caretaker listened and asked questions, taking the news of Whumpee’s condition as it came. They nodded and crossed their arms. They hoped they looked more confident, more prepared, than they felt.

“And I’m back,” Caretaker said as they returned to the room. For some idiotic reason they tried to affect the tone of a TV host, but their voice sounded too flat and tired. Nevertheless, it earned them a tiny smile and a sleepy hey from Whumpee in return. It was as though all the emotion and anxiety from the last little while had been dispelled. Contained, more like. Boxed up and set aside until it could be handled.

Caretaker managed a smile of their own and they toyed with Whumpee’s hair until they slept.

[porcelain-soupspoon4]

You’re Not So Bad (Isaac Foster x Reader)

A/N: I finished Angels of Death a few weeks back, and it was so good! I just had to write a short story about it. I’m not the best writer, but hopefully my first writing of this anime is somewhat close to Zack’s character.  

Warnings: Cussing, Blood Mention (it’s Zack)

You never expected to meet someone like Zack until he arrived on Floor B2. You assisted Reverend Gray, acting as another guardian of B2 after he took you in when he found you as a homeless teen, sleeping on the outside steps of his building. He wasn’t the best father figure you could’ve had, but he still treated you better than the streets did. When hearing the elevator on your floor ding, you wanted to see who was there, but Reverend Gray stopped you, warning you to be careful of the people you may meet. When you asked why, he described the people that held the names Isaac Foster and Rachel Gardner. In all honesty, you didn’t think they were actually as bad as he made them sound, considering that he over exaggerates his descriptions of people to you to keep you safe. Also considering the other psychotic people he had as guardians on the other floors, you could trust your own gut when you met the duo. You stayed hidden in the background while you watched Reverend Gray journey with Rachel to Dr. Danny’s floor. Watching them leave from the end of the hall, you saw a man in a dark brown hoodie and a scythe laying on the ground. That must be Isaac Foster. You could tell that he was bleeding out badly, a pang of guilt and empathy coursing through you. You were hesitant to approach him, remembering that the Reverend said he was dangerous to meddle with and there was a high chance he could react violently to you if you dared to try and talk. But seeing him looking on the verge of death, you couldn’t help but walk slowly toward him. It may seem unreasonable to walk right into danger, but you knew you could take care of yourself. Reverend Gray provided you with a weapon of your own, a basket-hilted sword. He helped you to perfect every swing and stab. Not only that, but you weren’t too bad at fighting hand-to-hand either. Luckily, Isaac Foster appears to be too injured to try and fight back anyway. I honestly don’t think my sword would be able to block his scythe well, I hope he doesn’t use it on me, you thought. As you got closer and closer to the strange man, he fidgeted a bit. You paused your movements, clutching the handle of your sword in its scabbard. He weakly turned his head towards you, his eyes opening slowly. 

“Who the fuck are you? You gonna try and kill me?” he questioned, a sharp tone in his voice. You noticed he made no effort to reach for his scythe, so you let go of your sword’s handle. 

“No.....I wouldn’t try to kill someone if they’re already dying,” you responded. He let out a dry laugh. 

“I hate to break it to ya sweetheart, but I’m not dying any time soon. Monsters are hard to kill. Besides, good ‘ol Rachel’s gonna fix me up. But enough of the chitter chatter, you didn’t answer my first question. Who the fuck ARE you? I thought there’s only one guardian on each floor, unless Reverend Shithead cheated,” he spat. You let out a small chuckle, finding his way of talking a throwback to when you were a teen. Although, he seemed to be around the same age as you, twenty or twenty-two years old. His bandaged face looked confused to your lighthearted reaction. He scowled, “Hey, what’s all that laughing for? I didn’t even say anything funny.” 

“Oh nothing, just thinking of my teenage days. But to answer your first question, I am another guardian of this floor. My job is assisting Reverend Gray on this floor, though I’m not really allowed to interact with the people who come here. But I uh, couldn’t help feeling a bit bad for you, seeing you bleed out like that,” you finally confessed. Letting out another dry laugh, he looked at you with a smirk. 

“Feeling bad for me, huh? Not the best decision. Don’t know if you can already tell, but I’m a cold-blooded serial killer. If I wasn’t feeling shitty at the moment, I’d cut that pretty head of yours off. Seeing you this calm around someone like me really pisses me off,” he said. You only let out another small chuckle, which irked him even more. 

“I’m sure you would, Isaac Foster. Although, I don’t think a fight between the two of us would end so quick. My weapon may be smaller than yours, but I can hold my own very well. If I could survive majority of my childhood and teen years being alone in the streets, I think I could survive you,” you calmly said. His temper apparently sky-rocketed because the next moment, he was yelling. 

“The name’s Zack, you bitch! Don’t go being so confident in yourself, it’s sickening to watch. I bet my ass could ruin all that confidence with just one land of my scythe. I’ll have you begging for your life, just you wait ‘til I’m in a better state to kill ya. Ugh, now I have two bitches to kill!” he groaned, then coughed loudly, more blood oozing out of his wound. You felt guilty again, wanting to at least stop the bleeding for a little while. 

“I carry some bandages and patches with me in case there’s a time I ever need to fix myself. If you need some I can-”

“Just leave it alone, will ya? I already got Rachel getting shit for me back on the other floor, I don’t need your damn help! Why the hell does everyone wanna help me?” 

“M’kay, but you’re bleeding pretty badly, by the time she comes back, you’ll most likely be passed out-”

“I said leave it alone! Stop tryna play nurse, your stuff probably won’t even do shit.” 

“But it’s better to stop the bleeding as soon as-”

“Will you shut up? You’re gonna make me go into shock.”

“I just wanna help-” 

“I said I don’t want any damn help!” 

“Well you won’t be much of a monster by bleeding out all over this damn floor! If you wanna at least live long enough to kill that girl Rachel, you could at least be somewhat decent and let me patch you up before you go all out, getting your own self killed instead! Now shut the fuck up and let me help! Geez! How does that blonde girl deal with you?” you shouted. Your yelling got him to close his mouth and shut up, surprised that he got someone as calm as you to get angry. How can I get her angry, but not scared shitless? It’s like she wasn’t even phased by my damn appearance, he thought. There was a short silence in the hallway, until Zack finally spoke up. “Didn’t know you had all that anger in ya. Heh, to be honest you even got my crazy self startled. I have no clue how Rachel deals with me, but all I know is her messed up head wants me to kill her. So I’ll do it. If I want to keep my promise to her.....I guess you should do what ya want. But don’t be a pervert about it.”

A small smile formed on your face as you took out your supplies in the small medical bag you carried around. 

“How the hell are you smiling after all that? Sheesh, I’m starting to think you’re even weirder than Rachel is,” Zack let out noises of disgust. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his childlike behavior. 

“Tell me something.....,” he began to say, “why haven’t ya mentioned anything about my appearance? I’m literally covered in bandages and burnt underneath. Don’t I freak you out at all? Why aren’t ya scared?” 

“Well, I’ve seen crazier. I also don’t like to make a judgement about someone based on only their appearance. Sure you’re not ordinary looking, but I know there’s more about you than what I see on the outside,” you replied. Everything that you needed to help him was taken out. You didn’t have any type of alcohol or a sewing needle and thread to fully cover what you believed to be a deep gash in his abdomen, but it was all that could be done for now until Rachel got back. You reached over towards his wound, but hesitated. You looked him in the eyes, as if you were silently asking for permission. He nodded slightly, his breathing hitching a bit when he saw the look your eyes held. You looked so genuine, not one hint of fear in you. Was that.....kindness? No, it couldn’t be. Why would anyone show kindness to him? You unzipped his hoodie, a faint blush on your face. Sure he was an asshole, but it still felt.....somewhat intimate? Not in an inappropriate way, just in a trustworthy way. The fact he had so much trust in one stranger to help him like this.....it was odd. You undid the bandages already on him that were worn out. His wound was revealed, and so was his skin. Wow....is all of him burned? You shook your thoughts away. You grabbed a bunch of gauze sponges you had and grouped them together, beginning to apply pressure to his wound. Zack hissed at the pain, saying almost every curse word you think is in the dictionary. You let out a soft “Sorry” as you continued to clean up the big amount of blood on his body. Once you began to bandage him up tightly, Zack started up another conversation. 

“You’re different from the other guardians.....why aren’t ya trying to kill me? Isn’t that what you guardians do?” he asked curiously. You showed him another small smile. That damn smile, why does she smile so easily at me? It’s not like Rachel’s forced ass smile. What’s up with this bitch? Why is her smile so.....familiar? 

“Well, like I said before, I just assist Reverend Gray on this floor. He’s the main guardian. I’m just someone he happened to take in after he found me sleeping on the steps of this building. Heh, teenager me. Homeless after my parents abandoned me as a toddler. I’m not sure what made Reverend Gray want to keep me. Sometimes he acts like a father, but then I remember how self praising he is,” you sighed, “I know the people on the other floors kill so you expect me to be the same, but I don’t want to kill someone if they aren’t totally out of their mind.” 

“So is that why you didn’t try to kill me? Cause ya think I’m not totally out of my mind? Heh, well I’m pretty sure me killing people for fun isn’t sane either. I hate seeing people happy, sooooo I kill ‘em. What’s not psycho about that?” Zack stated. 

“Well for starters, I didn’t try to kill you because you were already injured, so it wouldn’t have been fair. And you can’t be totally out of your mind if you let me help you with your injury.” Zack scowled at your reply, knowing you were right. Even as a serial killer, he had morals. He hated lying, and he himself would never tell a lie. 

“You remind me of him too much,” he grumbled. Your head perked up. 

“Did you say something?”

“I said you talk too much.” 

“No, you definitely said something else.” 

“No I said you talk too much.” 

“Doubt it, tell me what ya really said.” 

“That is what I really said.” 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Zack.” 

“Ugh, I said you remind me of him too much,” he said softly. 

“Him?” you questioned. Zack sighed. “There was this man I met when I was younger, a blind man. He let me stay at his place for a couple days. Even after I told him I killed a guy, he still had that dumb smile on his face. He always had that smile on his face around me. It was annoying, him being so calm around someone like me. Pissed me off, but I didn’t kill him. He fed me and everything. I mean he already died cause of something else, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Are ya done with my bandages yet? It feels like it’s been hours!” 

You rolled your eyes at his commentary. “Well, whoever that man is, he had quite the patience with you.” 

“Hey! I was giving you a compliment! Geez, way to be rude!” Zack crossed his arms, turning away from you. You only chuckled once more. You finally finished wrapping enough bandages as you could, making sure it was snug enough. 

“Happy now, angry boy? I’m done. They’ll still get bloody, but at least the bandages are fresh and not worn out,” you said, giving him another smile just to annoy him. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “I never caught your name. Since I told ya mine, it’s only fair you tell me yours.” 

“It’s (Y/N),” you said. 

“Well (Y/N),” Zack rubbed the back of his head. “You’re not so bad.....maybe I’ll keep ya alive.” 

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

The After Chronicles

Summary: After Earth and all of the planets around it were officially deemed uninhabitable, humanity was forced to move into massive spacecrafts carrying the new intra-galactic colonies. All was well until the universe-altering black hole, which tore through one of the last surviving intra-galactic communities and caused all of humanity to start over yet again. Two weeks later, things are beginning to return to normalcy, and people are finally returning home from the wreckage perimeter of the event horizon— among them, William Ortega, known more frequently as Willie, or Alex Mercer’s best friend. Alex has known him for years, known what a firecracker he is, so to see his friend return as though his light has been put out, well, it’s almost as disorienting as everything else that’s been going on.

Link to Masterlist

Word Count of Chapter: 1,353

———

Chapter 1: are you still starting fires?

Alex tries not to think about it too much.

This proves to be difficult, given he overthinks about, well, everything, and this particular thing is just. Too important.

Long story short, years ago, after Earth and all of the planets around it were officially deemed uninhabitable, humanity was forced to move into massive spacecrafts carrying the new intra-galactic colonies. Everything was fine until the supermassive black hole ripped through said colonies, and forced all of humanity to start from square one all over again. Now, two weeks after the black hole, things are finally getting back to normal; apartmentships are being rebuilt, the mallships are reopening, rocket sales have increased, and people are finally returning home from the rescue ships.

Willie still hasn’t shown up yet.

Willie, Alex’s best friend since Jamie Allston said his haircut looked stupid in the third grade and Willie loudly disagreed, the human firecracker, the kid with a promising future in skateboarding, the guy Alex has been quietly in love with since eighth grade.

His other friends tell him that it’s fine, because a bunch of people were still caught along the event horizon and needed rescue ships to take them back, and as far as the authorities know, no bodies were left behind.

But that doesn’t mean Willie couldn’t have been sucked in. Hence, the worrying.

(“Have you even heard of what happens to you when you get sucked into a black hole, Jules? It’s fucking spaghettification. He could be spaghettificated right now and we wouldn’t even know.”)

Today is the day that the rescue ships are supposed to make it back, though, and so now Alex is just patiently (read: impatiently) waiting at home to see if Willie will ever come back, or if he completely missed his chance to confess his feelings and will never get to see his best friend again. No big deal or anything.

Alex sighs, ignoring the faded blue cap on his nightstand as he heads out the front door.

•••

Alex grips the railing of the metal gate lining the edge of the rescue ship port, nearly bouncing with energy as the ships begin to unload. There’s a sizable amount of people who ended up getting stranded, so it takes him a minute to find Willie’s head among the crowd. Alex nearly bolts forward once he does, but the gate stops him and his boot slams into it, causing a large clanging noise to sound throughout the station. Pointedly ignoring the stares from the crowd of those waiting beside him, Alex sucks on his teeth and backs up a step from the gate. So much for subtlety.

After Willie makes his way around the gate, Alex finally runs over to him. He grips Willie by the shoulders and starts to chatter off, “Willie! Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re back, I- I’m so glad you’re okay even, you would never believe how fucking boring it’s been without— Willie?” Alex cuts himself off once he gets a good look at his best friend’s face. Willie’s barely even giving him a glance, biting on the inside of his mouth, rubbing his elbow with his thumb— he’s nervous, or at the very least uncomfortable, that much is obvious, but Alex can’t for the life of him think of why. He drops his hands. “What’s wrong?”

Willie shakes his head. “I’m just, really tired, I guess. Kinda just want to go home,” he replies half-heartedly.

“Oh,” Alex breathes out, and he tries his best to hide his disappointment. “Yeah. No, yeah, of course. I’ll take you there?”

“I mean, yeah, I kinda don’t know where it is anymore,” Willie responds, and ouch.

“Right.” Alex lets out a sigh, then continues as they begin walking, “Okay. So your apartmentship is still right next to mine, and honestly, most things are set up the same, it’s just a different galaxy and stuff, so it’s not too hard to get around.”

Willie throws him a noncommittal shrug. “Cool.”

“Yeah.” Yeah, this won’t be awkward at all.

•••

A shell of a person was not exactly what Alex had in mind when he said he wanted his best friend back, but apparently it’s what he’s getting.

He’s laying on the floor in Willie’s bedroom, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, while Willie sits on the edge of his bed, swinging his legs. There are a million words Alex would love to spew at his friend, but it feels like none of them are the right ones, none of them are the ones that will bring back the firecracker of a person he once knew.

He doesn’t get it, really; they both went through the same things, both experienced the same parts of the black hole. And sure, Alex was still shaken by it and is adjusting to the change (no matter how poorly said adjustment is), but he isn’t— he hasn’t closed himself off to the people he trusts. He hasn’t become an entirely different person.

And it’s hard, really, because Alex loved Willie; yes, there were romantic feelings there that he didn’t bring up as often, but even on a baseline level, he loved him. He loved the things that made Willie who he was, the spontaneity, the empathy, the humor, the drive, everything. It’s hard to know who someone used to be with those traits and not see them as someone else without them.

This doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Willie anymore, though. In fact, it’s almost the opposite. There are so many things Alex wishes he could do to help Willie, to care for him, to hug him, anything, but the very notion that he could lose Willie by choice rather than circumstance is enough to keep his mouth shut.

Alex is trying his best to bring Willie back to who he once was. He knows he might never fully get there; what they all went through was traumatic, and would have effects on them for the rest of their lives, but he’s trying at the very least to get a smile out of the other boy.

He’s gotten nothing.

He refuses to give up.

“Is there anything you want to do now that you’re back?” Alex asks, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better look at Willie. “I’ve heard the new set up for the skate park is really fun, and there’s even an anti-gravity section—“

“I’m not really feeling it,” Willie interrupts. “I’ve kinda had enough of zero gravity at this point.”

The joke lies flat, a lull falling into what could barely be called a conversation, and it’s enough to make Alex’s anxious energy start leaking out. “You— you don’t even want to skate? That’s… like your favorite thing in the world, what’s up with you?” He asks, not accusingly.

Willie closes his eyes for a moment while he crosses his arms against himself. “Nothing’s up, I just don’t want to. Am I not allowed to do that now?” he responds, adding, “I’d rather just chill here. You can leave if you want to do something else, though.”

Alex splutters, “Wh— no, I never said that, I’m just—“ he takes a breath, looking down at the floor, “—I’m getting a bit worried about you. You’re not interested in anything you used to do, you’ve gotten quiet all of a sudden, and you barely even talk to me anymore.” He looks back up at Willie. “I’m supposed to be your best friend, Willie. You can tell me anything, you know I’ll always be here for you, right?”

Willie’s face hardens and he stops swinging his legs, pulling them up to hold them in his arms. “Maybe I don’t know that.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and mumbles, “I think, I think I just want to be alone right now. You should leave.”

Alex doesn’t get how he could have fucked it up this bad, but he nods, gathers his bag, and heads out the door, more determined than ever to get his best friend back.

He ignores the blue cap again when he flops onto his bed.

———

taglist: @jealous-kippen @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @secretly-of-course @sylphrenas @julie-n-phantoms (ask to be tagged!!)

[high-tidethunder]

so long lives this, and this gives life to thee

inspired by this post!

Act I: SCENE I: Holly. The main stage at the Michigan Renaissance Festival. Enter QUỲNH, wearing a long red velvet gown, her hair draped over her shoulders and braided with gold and strings of pearls. She is backlit by string lights on the stage that surround her like a halo.

QUỲNH:

This is a story of two men,

A thief and a knight,

Whose lives are inexorably entwined,

Wherever, and whenever they meet.

This is the story of a years-long fight,

The lost hope of one,

Amidst the search for the other.

This is the story of the power of a young girl,

And her empathy.

This is the story of a family,

And the ties that bind it, which will never break.

This is a story of a love, everlasting.

They might just need a push to get there.

~~~

Joe finishes belting his sword to his back and pushes his way out of the canvas costuming tent and onto the stage, where a crowd of families has already gathered. He smiles at them, waves, sits down at the table on the stage’s corner and pulls up the copy of yesterday’s newspaper that sits on it, studiously focusing on the photograph of Governor Whitmer that graces the front page.

Andy misses their cue by five minutes. Joe has to cough four times, stomp twice, and slam down the wooden tankard he’s been pretending to drink from before they tumble out of the costume tent, adjusting their silk doublet and the circlet twisted into their hair. He is going to kill Quỳnh.

“Yusuf! It has happened again!” they call, and he’s not entirely sure the frantic thread of their voice is an act. At least they remember their lines. “That scoundrel can’t keep getting away with this,” they growl, pacing the stage, pointedly ignoring the audience. They stop in front of his chair, folding their arms across their chest. “Another carriage has been raided, in the eastern wood. He made off with the whole load of silks and what gold the driver had.”

“And what do you wish from me? Years, this has been going on. He is like a shadow, melting away into the night, I cannot find him. I am lost,” Joe retorts, and stares forlornly into the empty mug in front of him. “That blackguard Nicolò di Genova is a thorn in my side that I cannot dig out.”

Andy straightens, then, and finally turns out to look at the audience. They notice the young girl in the first row and crouch down to look at her, smiling kindly when she ducks her head shyly. “Hello there, sweetheart,” they start, voice warm. “My name is Andromache, what’s yours?”

The girl looks up at her parents for a moment and waits for her mother to nod encouragingly before looking at Andy again. “I’m Aisha,” she says, barely loud enough for Joe to hear.

“Hello Aisha, I’m the queen of this realm, and I think that you,” they look up now, “all of you, might be able to help out my knight here. What do you think?”

Aisha’s eyes widen and she stares up at Andy. “Maybe,” she says, still quiet.

Not one to pressure audience participation, Andy stands and steps back, turning to look at Joe before addressing the crowd again. “I bet, if Sir Yusuf here shows you a picture of the man we are looking for, you would be able to tell us if you’ve seen him,” they say, giving Joe a sidelong glance.

He takes the charcoal sketch of Nicky he’d done the week before the festival started out of the pages of the newspaper and stands, walking to the edge of the stage. “This man,” he starts, jumping down in an area in front of the stage clear of any people and gesturing with the sketch, “is called Nicolò, and for many years he has evaded our capture while ambushing our trade routes.” Joe begins to walk up and down the length of the stage, holding the picture out all the while. “He has stolen many goods and deprived many tradesmen their hard-earned wages. We cannot let this stand, and I don’t believe any in our kingdom would think we should.” He stops, “There is a reward on his head, and should any of you be brave enough to join our scouting party, you will be well compensated.” They would get a $20 credit at a select few stalls. One per family. “Will anyone here join our cause?”

Aisha steps forward, a small step, accompanied by an encouraging smile from her mother. “I will,” she says, and the rest of the crowd breaks into a cheer of assent.

Joe grins and kneels down in front of her. “I think,” he starts, looking her in the eye, “that you would make a fantastic second-in-command,” he says, folding away the sketch of Nicky and tucking it between his chestplate and his shirt.

Right then, the stablehands bring out his and Andy’s horses and he stands, mounts the horse, and looks down at Aisha. “Would you like to ride with me, m’lady?” he asks, waiting as she looks to her parents for their agreement before nodding vigorously.

Her father lifts her into Joe’s waiting hands and he settles her in front of him on the horse before signaling to Andy that he’s ready to go when they are. They nod and lead their horse to the front of the crowd to address them, explaining that they and Joe would be leading the group through the fairgrounds in the search. They wait for everyone to situate themselves between the horses, then head out towards the costuming stalls. Joe waits for everyone to clear out before bringing up the rear, making sure to keep pace with Aisha’s parents.

~~~

About halfway through the “search”, Aisha asks to see the sketch again and Joe switches the reins to one hand, pulling the paper out and holding it in front of her. He notices now that he’d gotten Nicky’s nose wrong and he tells Aisha so with a fake-somber shake of his head. In truth, it is a little disappointing. Nicky had willingly sat for an hour for Joe to get the sketch done instead of just handing him a headshot like anyone else would have done. He’d wanted to get it right.

She pats his hand consolingly, stares at the picture for a moment, then asks, “What if he’s hungry?”

Joe is a little taken aback, but he can see her parents smiling next to them and would never try to discourage a child’s empathy, so he responds, “Well, then we would feed him. But, if he takes others’ wares, they’ll have nothing to sell, then they might go hungry.”

“Why couldn’t you feed them, too?”

“We could. We would. But it is difficult managing a kingdom, Aisha, we can’t know everyone who’s hungry all the time. We can only do our best to stop those who are taking advantage of other people, so that they have no reason to go hungry.”

“But when we find him, if he is hungry, you’ll feed him?”

Joe can’t help the smile that’s spreading across his face. “We will, sweetheart. Queen Andromache wants no one in this kingdom to suffer.”

~~~

When Andy finally leads them to the blacksmith’s stall, a little boy in the crowd is the first to spot Nicky where he’s half-hidden behind Booker, the smith, and the new girl, Nile, who are deep in a conversation about metalworking.

Joe hands Aisha back to her parents, then dismounts and draws his sword, handing the reins off to one of the stablehands and approaching the entrance to the shop. “Nicolò di Genova!” he calls, and Booker and Nile step out of the way as Nicky looks up from where he’d been pretending to browse the scabbards on one wall.

“And who are you?” Nicky spits out, shifting on his feet into a fighting stance.

“I,” Joe starts, and wastes no amount of grandeur as he looks out over the crowd amassed before them and continues his speech, “am Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Mohammed al-Kaysani,” here he pauses and looks at Nile, standing next to him with genuine delight on her face, and winks at her, “called al-Tayyib,” he says, swiftly turning and bowing to her, taking her hand in his and pressing a gentle kiss to it. “And you,” he says, standing abruptly and swinging back around to confront Nicky, pointing his sword at him accusatorily, “Nicolò di Genova, are a thief.”

“And by whose authority do you make this claim?” Nicky asks, quirking an eyebrow. “I am but a traveling merchant, here with the sunrise and gone with its set,” he says with a saccharine smile. A taunt.

“Peddler of stolen wares,” Joe bites back, advancing as Nicky steps backward, eyes widening in apprehension in an expression that is almost comically exaggerated to anyone who knows him.

Joe remembers the countless lunch breaks that had been spent rehearsing after Nicky had come to him after their first week of shows together and asked for help making his performance more believable.

He can’t help but be a little proud of himself for the result.

“You have not answered me,” Nicky says, buying time as he makes his way further into the smithy and towards the rack of swords on the far wall. “By whose authority are you making this claim?”

“I am making this arrest under the authority of the Nomad Queen.”

At this, Nicky turns to look at Andy, sitting horseback behind the crowd, drawing their attention to them. They straighten their back, their delicate gold circlet glinting in the sun, and stare down their nose at Nicky.

Nicky takes this moment of distraction to lunge at the rack of swords, grab his blunted prop one they’d planted there that morning, and deftly pull it free. “It is not an arrest you will make without a fight,” he snarls, once again settling into a fighting stance.

“I did not imagine it would be,” Joe counters, coiling his own muscles like a spring.

It’s Nicky who attacks first this time, lunging at Joe as he swings his blade at him in a sweeping downward arc. Joe quickly checks that Nile and Booker have cleared the crowd to a safe distance away before allowing himself to fall back, his own sword raised over his head to protect himself from the blow. He forces Nicky’s sword to the side, inadvertently pushing the two of them chest to chest, and makes to draw the dagger at his hip before his arm is twisted back and Nicky ducks away from him. He growls and advances again, Nicky blocks his first blow but stumbles over a divot in the ground at the second one and falls, dropping his sword to fling out his hand and break his fall. Joe’s hand darts out to grab the fallen blade and he throws it in the direction of the smithy before standing over Nicky, settling the point of his sword under his chin.

“Do you yield?” he asks, panting slightly.

He’s suddenly acutely aware of the way Nicky’s Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

For a moment, Nicky’s eyes darken into an emotion that isn’t there quite long enough for Joe to recognize it, before hardening into steel once more. “Never,” he spits, then reaches up and, in one swift motion, twists Joe’s sword out of his hand and rolls to his feet. And then, Joe finds himself with his own blade to his neck, staring down it to that same dark look in Nicky’s eyes.

He’s about to say something when Booker calls to Joe and hefts Nicky’s sword his way and they’re in the thick of the stage fight again until Nicky yields.

~~~

“Why did that little girl remind you to feed me?” Nicky asks when they’re back in the costuming tent, and Joe huffs a laugh.

“Aisha,” he responds, “She was very worried that the scoundrel we were looking for might have turned to crime because he was hungry.”

Nicky smiles at this, one of those barely-there smiles of his that Joe first read as a reluctance to tolerate his presence but now sees a kind of beauty in. “Good for her,” he says as he makes his way through the tent to his cubby, undoing the clasps of his leather jerkin as he goes.

Joe goes to his own cubby and sheds his heavy leather armor before tucking it away. He grabs his phone and wallet and is about to leave to grab them lunch when he hears Nicky let out a curse and call for him, and turns to see him tugging helplessly at the last clasp on his jerkin. “Need help with that?”

“Please? I think it caught on the undershirt and I don’t want to tear it if I don’t have to.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll see what I can do,” Joe says, walking over.

He takes the stubborn clasp in his hands and Nicky lets his own hands fall to rest on the wooden chest behind him as Joe messes with the fabric of his shirt, trying to figure out where it’s caught.

“Sorry,” he says, still holding the fabric taut as he kneels to put his phone and wallet on the dirt floor at Nicky’s feet to free up his hand, “I think I see where it’s caught, but-” he looks up from the ground and cuts himself off when he realizes just exactly what position he’s gotten himself in.

Nicky looks down at the same moment Joe looks up at him and barely gets out a ‘what?’ before his eyes widen ever so slightly and he clamps his mouth shut, the tips of his ears turning pink. Joe clears his throat and Nicky’s jaw tightens and he tips his head back, staring steadfastly at the ceiling as Joe goes back to twisting the fabric of his shirt out of the clasp of his jerkin.

“All good!” Joe says when he finishes, forcing cheer into his voice and pulling down the shirt. He very nearly pats it smooth before he catches himself.

“Thanks,” Nicky says, almost clipped, and Joe hazards a look up at him as he blindly reaches out for his phone and wallet.

“Well, I’m not going to ask what you two were doing in here, but I will remind you that this is a tent and does not lock, and I am going to ask if either of you know where my wife is because I believe she owes me $50 now,” Andy says from behind them, and Joe whips around to look so fast that his neck hurts. They wave, phone in hand, then duck out of the tent.

“It’s not what it looks like!” he tries to call after them, raising himself up on one knee towards the tent entrance in some half-assed, desperate attempt to stop his reputation from being ruined.

A hand lands on his shoulder, then, and he feels Nicky’s hair brush at the side of his neck, a sensation that probably shouldn’t send a shiver through him but does anyways. “I think,” he says, voice low in Joe’s ear, “I would very much like it if it was.”

Joe stands so quickly he slams his head into Nicky’s chin, and the other man lets out what Joe assumes is a truly impressive string of curses in Italian, although his semester abroad in Rome didn’t quite teach him whatever it was Nicky had just said about a pig.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, fuck, Nicky, are you okay?” he gets out in one breath, turning to see Nicky with a hand pressed to his mouth and a wild look in his eyes.

“That,” he says pointedly, tightly, muffled by his fingers, “was not the outcome I was hoping for,” he finishes, taking his hand away from his mouth and revealing his lips, smeared with blood.

Joe’s heart plummets and he jerks forward, grabbing for the box of tissues he knows is on top of the cubbies and tearing one out. He crumples it in one hand and holds it to Nicky’s bleeding lip before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Sorry,” he says again, not quite sure if he should keep holding the tissue to the cut.

Nicky makes the decision for him, bringing his own hand to take hold of the bloodied tissue and shaking his head. “I should be the one apologizing,” he says, eyes downcast. “I shouldn’t have said that, it was unprofessional and,” he stops, frustration flooding his features, as though the words he wants to say are evading him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he finally says and looks up at Joe. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Joe says, shaking his head. “It’s not a big deal-”

Nicky cuts him off at this, “I’ll just take this as a ‘no’ and leave you alone,” he says, and the tone in his voice twists Joe’s gut.

“Wait, Nicky, no. Don’t,” he protests, reaching out for Nicky’s wrist. “Take it as a ‘I don’t have any dinner plans tonight, and I did make a promise to feed you’?” he offers, hoping he sounds as sincere as he is.

The tension melts from Nicky’s face, the worried lines at the corners of his pursed lips turning up in a smile. “You’re a terrible cook,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

Joe laughs, and it feels like letting go. “I am,” he agrees. He’s perfected three dishes that aren’t sandwiches or cold cereal, and even with those, they’re half-burned half the time. “But I’m really good at picking good restaurants because of it,” he says, and Nicky snorts.

“I like the sound of that,” he says, and warmth blooms in Joe’s chest.

“6 sound good?” he asks, a time that should give them both an hour or so after their shift ends to get cleaned up. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Sounds great,” Nicky says, just as Joe hears his cue line for his next performance coming from the stage.

“Who knows where the night might go, huh?” he says, looking Nicky up and down and winking before turning and running for the stage.

[btssavedmylifeblr]

I forgot to send on my voting story. Ok so my brother and I both got mail in ballots, and let me tell you how we both forgot to mail it in so we just thought to bring them to our voting location. The lady there kinda yelled at us? She was confused and didn't know how to go about it. And honestly I just took it because we were the idiots who didn't mail in our ballots. We had to rip them up and they just us new ones to fill out in person and submit. Not exciting, but a story for void snippet. 👀

Anonymous said: Hi!! I'm so excited for void! I voted today around 30 minutes before the polls closed in my neighborhood because I had to wait for my dad and brother to get home from work since they wanted to go all together hehe. It was a pretty fast process! We just pressed buttons on screens (compared to last election where we had to bubble in everything by hand) plus, I got to keep the stylus that they gave us and it works on phones too! 🥰🥰 Thank you! I love your writing so much 💜💜💜

Anonymous said: I did mine through mail me and my husband did and we went to the post office a little while back and then he took us on a nice little date afterward and we got ice cream! Also I love void💖 keep up the good work

Anonymous said: VOTES FOR VOID??? I love democracy and I love VOID! So since May I've (temporarily) moved back home from New York to Indiana RE: covid; I've voted absentee for the both the primaries and presidential election (I'm still in IN rn...blah). I voted early and mailed in my ballot for the presidential election (about 3 weeks ago). Made sure my family was voting (brother mailed it in, mom dropped off a ballot, and dad did early voting) and encourage them to put up a Biden sign in our yard <3

Anonymous said: HI BEE! I ALSO VOTED TODAY! IM 21 SO THIS IS MY FIRST TIME VOTING FOR THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION (my 18th bday didnt make the cutoff since im a december bday) im so happy to have done my part! I made sure to study up on the judges and policies and everything! Luckily the polling place didn't have a line so i was able to get in, get my ballot, and fill it in right away! I even dragged my mom and cousin to come with me. I made a joke on snapchat to encourage my friends to vote too. It was a pic of my "i voted" sticker with a caption saying "omg youre so sexy when you vote aHaha" -🦙

Anonymous said: this is my first time doing this so, so i hope i’m sending this correctly! i voted early in late september by mail! i live in a swing state, so it’s really important for me to vote and not waste time!! bc of my age, this is my first time voting so i’m really nervous 😅

Anonymous said: I voted by email! I'm overseas so I wasn't sure if my ballot would actually make it through in time, so I decided to go electronically. Had to sign a waiver saying I understand that my vote won't be anonymous but I haven't been given a reason to suspect voter suppression/fraud in my state, so I'm happy I think...!

Anonymous said: hi, i voted early on oct 24th. my absentee ballot didn't come in, so i had to travel back home to vote (~3 hour drive). when we got there, there was a ton of people outside the polling place, but no lines, so i was in and out pretty quick. it was my first time voting, so i had all the candidates i was voting for written down on a tiny receipt so i wouldn't forget 😅. my mom was with me, so she voted too. took a pic with my sticker (mask on for extra covid-ness) and went home. drove back the next afternoon!

whippedforkook said: Hi Bee. 💕 I voted in early October - nearly a month ago! 😱 It’s been really weird with all the lead up to the election because it felt like it should have been done once I cast my ballot! A lot of my friends have volunteered to get out the vote: writing postcards to voters, texting, phone banking, working the polls, curing ballots. I didn’t volunteer at all this year, but I hope that all of my friends’ hard work and everyone else’s is enough. I’m also hoping and praying that I will be in a better place mentally for 2022 so that I too can volunteer. Our work starts with 2020 not ends. 💕 Wishing you well. 💕

begineuphoria said: I went and voted last Friday as it was our last early voting day. No way was I going to wait until today with the crowds of people in my area that still act as if masks are somehow infringing on their rights. 🙄 It was a rather normal experience for the most part. Other than having to use a coffee stir stick to press the buttons on the machine to vote. In and out within five minutes.

Anonymous said: I voted down the street at this pretty park this morning. I got up at 5:30 and it was freezing. Luckily I wore like 30 layers and stood outside for 2 hours. Some nasty orange man supporters were rude but everyone else was pretty nice. A really cute older couple was playing soccer with pine cones and kicked it towards me to play too. Not the worst time tbh.

Anonymous said: Did mail-in voting in California! Extremely exhausting and took forever to research all the propositions - they are notoriously tricky in hiding their flaws and one side tends to outrageously outspend the other. But in the end I felt really good about my research and decisions! No need for you to post a snippet for this story - would like to save that to read sometime in the future ;) Thank you so much for doing this!

joonsgotthejuice said: Votes for void??? I am here! I went last Thursday and it was chaotic bc I kept going past the poll place but the line was soooo long so my mom called me and woke me up like "its pouring rain and the line is super short get up I'm gonna pick you up" so thats the story of how I got dressed in 5 minutes and dragged my ass to vote in the rain <3

Anonymous said: i voted early on thursday it was cold and rainy but i went in the late afternoon and thankfully the only waiting i did was a few minutes for an elevator i got very lucky and while waiting for the results is awful the relief that came from voting in general was just great

Anonymous said: Wheeew the polls just closed and I finally got to cast my ballot yayyy ( I was the one working the polls from earlier) it’s been a really really long day and we actually had surprisingly good turnout. I saw a woman try to vote for someone else who claimed to be “helping” and I saw a woman who I’m pretty sure was on some typa something 👀 Overall though I really I’m really thankful for people like you who encouraged people to get out and vote. I hope the odds are in our favor❤️🤞🏼

chelsea-chee said: Hello Bee! Today surprisingly my elderly father wanted to vote so I brought him out with me. He only cared about voting for Biden, which meant I got to help decide who he should vote for with the rest of the candidates and amendments! Say hello to baby bee for me as well! 💖

Anonymous said: Okay I gonna got a chance to vote today and the process wasn’t that bad actually. I went in just now and it wasn’t that busy( thankfully) so no lines. I’m from Texas and it’s gonna be almost impossible to turn this state blue, but every vote counts! I love that you are getting people to vote and also sharing your experiences as well!

owl-orgy said: Dropped off my mail in ballot at a polling location! I originally wanted to vote early in person because I was worried my signature wouldn’t match closely enough but ended up just turning it in and double checked today to make it said “ballot accepted and counted”!

Anonymous said: I voted in person this afternoon, better late than never I guess. I was gonna go last week but then I got cramps from hell. There was no one in line in front of me, I think my county early voted because it was packed everyday the last few weeks

Anonymous said: I voted early a couple weeks ago. Exciting thing though that did happen was I got both my parents to vote for their first time ever.

Anonymous said: I had a mail in vote. So, I filled it out and dropped it in at the ballot box at my library. (I also checked out books for the first time in years, so I had fun!)

bubblyjiminnie said: I literally just finished voting. Lucky for me, the line and wait wasn’t very long, and it was a nice enough day that the short amount of time I had to spend in line outside of the building wasn’t too bad. My social anxiety when it comes to stuff like this tends to be high but that’s what I get for waiting until Election Day instead of going the mail in route. This was only my second time voting, but I’m glad that I did 😊

Anonymous said: I turned my ballot in last week :) I’m not a big fan of crowds and I hate make spur of the moment choices but despite that the first time I was able to vote back in 08 my Mom pressured me into voting in person because “you’d have to experience it at least once in our life”. And ever since then I comfortably vote by mail. I take my time, do all of my research, listen to music, and best of all don’t have to deal with people.

Anonymous said: here in Washington state it’s super easy to vote. I dropped my ballot off in mid-October and it’s already been accounted for! Mail in voting and drop box voting is fantastic and provides equal opportunity and access. Sad to see some people in red states misinforming Americans about it! We also have a referendum for implementing mandatory sex ed, including teaching respect, empathy and consent as part of the curriculum so I was happy to vote yes on that too!

unionrox006 said: I voted about 2 weeks ago by doing a mail in ballot. The other eligible to vote members of my household did the same. We chose to vote by absentee ballot because both my mom and I have an autoimmune disorder, so we have to be careful going out in the pandemic. Tbh, the ballot layout was a bit confusing at first as was all the paperwork and required IDs and documents. But my dad explained it to me and we got them filled out and mailed off. Kinda mad I didn't get a sticker for it though

bluetostone said: Love this and so excited for the next chp of void! I early voted a few weeks ago and because I live in a pretty rural county I was in and out of my polling place in a few minutes. No sticker though 😢. I live in a swing state so it could go either way in terms of delegates. Just praying everyone is safe tonight as the results roll in...though, won't we not know for sure for a couple of days or weeks?

Anonymous said: My mom, sister, and I received our early voting ballots a while ago and I took the longest to fill mine out because it was making me anxious :,( but I did return it before it was due. I checked our ballot statuses and mine and my moms were accepted but my sister’s said they hadn’t received hers back. Then she got another ballot so she filled that one out too and I took it yesterday 👍👍 I think she got two because she changed her address late so they sent two?

vixsynsblog said: Non-interesting voter story: I'm paranoid and live in a highly divided area, so I filed mail-in ASAP, mailed it a few days after cause neighbors are nosy and don't understand boundaries. Was able to track my ballot through my credit company, which was nice. Only thing I was missing was my sticker. Never got one✊😔. So I had to improvise and write it in pen on my disposable mask. I'm working all this week so if riots break out from either side, I'll be at work. Prayers for the safety of others🙏

______

Waaah!!! Thank you all for voting!! You are all my heroes. I am so grateful and proud of you. I’m sorry I ran out of time to respond to you individually. I’m going to drop two big scenes from Chapter 7 in gratitude (one of which will be familiar to my patrons and one won’t). I’m hopeful I will have the whole next chapter out very soon. Love you all!

Void spoilers below the cut.

When you wake up in the morning, there are still no signed HR forms in your messages. Had you been a fool to think they were interested? How much time does it take to decide such a thing? Perhaps just by putting the idea out there explicitly, it had lost all of its taboo appeal. 

There is a calendar reminder waiting for you: Today is chili pepper pollinating day. At least this gives you an excuse to talk to Hoseok. 

You find the science officer in the lab as always, sitting with his knee up against his chest. Hoseok doesn’t look well. He’s got dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey, um…” You shuffle your feet. Want to fuck me? No wait…“You don’t look good. Were you here all night?” you ask.

He blinks at you, bleary-eyed. “Um, was I? Yeah.. I suppose. Lost track of time.” He rubs his eyes, before looking you up and down, then casting his gaze back to the floor. 

All you want to do is ask about the forms. Or the meeting. Or what he thinks of you now. But you don’t. “I need to pollinate the chili peppers today.” Usually Hoseok is the person who assists with that. “But I can get one of the other guys to do it if you need the sleep.”

“No!” Hoseok lurches forward, standing up a bit to rapidly and needing to put his hand back on the bench to steady himself. “I mean, I’m fine.” 

You should disgaree with him. He is exhausted. But you’d like more time to talk to him. 

Pollinating the chili peppers is both time-sensitive and time-consuming, hence why it took two of you to get the job done. There were no insects on your ship to do the job for you and if they didn’t get pollinated, they wouldn’t bear any fruit. Your chili peppers were your favorite crop. Not only a vital source of Vitamin C, but all your food benefitted from having a bit of spice added to it. 

You and Hoseok head for the greenhouse together. The intital set-up gives you something to talk about in the beginning. Hoseok gathers the pollen from one flower onto a paintbrush, then hands it over to you to paint onto the stigmas of each little flower on the next plant in the line.

Slowly the conversation dries up as you fall into a silent rhythm. Other than just enjoying the chili peppers, you must admit that this was one of your favorite tasks on the ship because of the high likelihood that the two of you would brush hands peridically. Always gave you butterflies. But today he seems extra intent on keeping his distance from you. Was he disgusted by you now? His hands are trembling.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

His hand twitches so hard that a little rain of yellow pollen cascades onto the floor. He curses in frustration before turning to face you. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Um, yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“This, um, plan of yours…” he gestures to the vague tension in the air. “It doesn’t feel like you.”

“I’m trying to save the mission. That has always been my top priority.”

“Yeah, I’m still not clear on how this benefits the mission.”

“Yoongi said…” you start to say, but are cut off my Hoseok’s derisive snort. 

“Look, if you’re in love with Yoongi, just go date him, okay? Don’t feel obligated to include the rest of us out of pity.” 

You frown. “I’m not… I’m not in love with him. It’s just sex. Just biology.” 

“This isn’t you!” Hoseok argues back. “You hated the idea of anyone of us ever treating you that way. And now you just want all of us to… to… use you like that?”  He splutters out the end of the sentence.

“No one is using me! This is my plan! I’m in charge!”

He sighs. “Well, I can’t be a part of it. Excuse me.”

______

Taehyung finds you in the gym. It’s good to see him up and about, even if his arm is still in a sling. 

“Hey, so I need to talk to you about this, um, ape sex thing.” He fishes awkwardly into his pockets and pulls out his tablet.  Maybe Jimin was right. Is Taehyung going to be the first to take you up on your offer?

You pause your jog on the elliptical machine. You wish you weren’t so sweaty and gross for this conversation. Taehyung is such an intimidatingly attractive man with those strong eyebrows and that perfect skin. 

Taehyung opens up the tablet and flips to the form. It’s happening. He’s going to sign the form. Shit. Then what will you do? It’s one thing to say you want to have sex with your whole crew, but what if he’s hoping to go right now? You need a shower. 

Taehyung has really nice hands. Long strong fingers delicately navigating the touch screen. It seems totally improbable that a man this attractive would be into you, even if you were the only woman in the universe. It just adds to your suspicions that hormones are driving everyone crazy. Perhaps if you slept with him once, he’d lose all interest. 

He finds the form and then turns his gaze up to you, staring you down with those eyes. It’s a good thing that Taehyung rarely turns his full gaze on you, because it is almost too much to bear. Shit, is he just going to sign it? Is he waiting for you to give him some sort of signal?

“You can’t do this to Jimin,” he says.

“What?” Not what you were expecting. “Do what to Jimin?”

“This.” He gestures over the HR form. “Signing these forms with everyone. Having sex with everyone. You’re going to destroy Jimin.”

“Jimin’s the one who suggested this whole thing in the first place.” It’s a lie. You know its a lie. Or at least a gross exaggeration. But Jimin was the one who first brought up the idea of sharing. All for the benefit of the man in front of you now. 

“No way.” Taehyung scoffs, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “No way was it Jimin’s idea that you sleep with the whole crew.” 

“Well…” You can’t bear his gaze anymore and look down at the floor. “He wanted me to sleep with you.”

That surprises Taehyung. He puts down the tablet. “What? Why would he want that?”

This is awkward. “He, um, thinks you’re in love with me.”

“What?” There is only surprise on Taehyung’s face. It’s actually a relief to see that Taehyung is just as shocked by that idea as you were. “Why does he think that?”

“I don’t know…” You feel kind of dumb now. Of course, Taehyung doesn’t feel that way about you. Look at him. “Cause you told him you were jealous. Cause you can’t stand to be in the same room as us…”

Taehyung bites his lip. “Oh, um, shit, sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

If Taehyung isn’t jealous of Jimin... 

“Taehyung…” He looks up, biting his lip. “What did you mean? Who are you jealous of?” 

Taehyung’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he reaches for his microphone and mutes it. Out of respect, you mute yours as well. He glances toward the camera in the corner of the room, then stands up and begins unzipping his jumpsuit. 

“Um…” You are distracted by the golden arms that peak from either side of the tank top as the zipper reaches his groin. “What are you doing?”

“Need something to block the camera.”

“We have towels,” you mutter.  But he’s already stripping out of his shirt. The musculature of his back ripples. He hangs the shirt off of the camera to block the rest of the room from view. 

“Yeah, but this way anyone watching will think we’re having sex.” His chest is just as attractive as his back and you flush at the sight of it. Mercifully, he zips back into his jumpsuit as he returns to his position in front of the exercise machine. 

“You want them to think we’re having sex?”

“Don’t you? It plays right into your whole save the mission with bonobo sex plan.”

“I suppose.” Though the plan was also supposed to be that there would be no more secrets between the crew. “What plan of yours does it play into?”

“The one where Jimin doesn’t realize I’m in love with him.”

“You’ve never tried to tell him?”

Taehyung laughs wryly and shakes his head. “How would that conversation go? Hey man, I know we’ve known each other for years and I’ve already seen you naked and that you just think of me as a friend, but I’m in love with you. I know that’s awkward but now you have to spend the next twelve years with me, knowing that I’m attracted to you when you don’t feel the same way.” Taehyung sighs. “Doesn’t sound like a good plan to me. If he doesn’t feel the same way, I’ve just ruined the friendship for nothing and then I don’t even have that.”

“Yeah… I get that.”  There’s something touching about realizing that Taehyung has been fighting the same battle as you for the last two years. 

“I couldn’t tell anyone before launch because what if they wouldn’t let me go then? You know?”

“Yeah, the director wasn’t big on sending anyone who might ‘complicate’ the mission.” The two of you share a sad knowing smile. 

“Yeah… And I thought it would be fine, you know? I like women too. I’d just date women until launch and no one would know. I wasn’t planning on falling in love with my roommate.”

“I don’t think any of us really knew what this would be like.”

“I knew it was going to be a problem. I should have pulled out…” 

Your mind flashes back to that moment of doubt when Hoseok talked you into still coming on the mission.

“But I couldn’t just let him go off into space without me. Even if he’d never feel the same way, at least he’d still be in my life.”

The emotion in Taehyung’s words makes your eyes begin to mist. “You really do love him.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs again. “But he’s in love with you.”

“Well, he thinks he is.”

“What does that mean?”

“He only feels like that about me cause he thinks I’m the only option.”  You wonder if maybe he would feel differently if he knew about Taehyung’s feelings. 

Taehyung frowns and shakes his head. “You don’t give him enough credit.”

“Oh come on, you know him. How many women did he date while we were in training?”

“A few…” 

“And how many of them was he in love with before he found the next one?”  

Taehyung bites his lip. He can’t really argue with that. “So why are you with him then, if you don’t think it’s real?”

You shrug, rubbing your arm. “He wants me. It’s nice to feel wanted, I guess.”

“You know you could have that with any man on this ship right?”

You scoff. “They’re all suffering the same delusion. It’s only-available-vagina syndrome. I just want us all to fuck and get it out in the open. Maybe if we could get it out of our system, they would see I’m nothing special. And then we can get back to the mission.”

Taehyung eyes you up and down. “You don’t give yourself enough credit either.”

You shrug. “You wait and see. Jimin will get bored of me. They all will.”

The two of you both slump backwards in your seats, mulling over your shared woes.  Taehyung bends down and picks up the tablet again. “So what should I do with this?”

“Obivously, you don’t have to sign it. I should have realized that not everyone would be interested.”

“Jimin thinks I’m in love with you?”

“Yeah…”

“Is it okay if we let him think that for now? At least until I figure out how to tell him the truth?”

“Okay.”

Taehyung smiles and signs the bottom of the form, then sends it to you. Your phone lights up with a message. “Thank you,” he murmurs before he leaves. 

[diversitytrash]

Circles (Hisoka HxH)

Well hello there! hope you’re all doing okay during these hard times with this pandemic, I really hope you all feel safe and are healthy. This is a little something I was working on, the song really hitting all the right buttons to get me working enough to do a little something, hope is of your liking! I used this song as inspiration for this little something, got me in the mood enough since I got it playing on a loop for a while.

*Sidenotes*: I apologize in advance if this suck, really, please forgive me.

Warnings: Gloomy thoughts, language, abuse of substance, angst, Hisoka 

Work count: 4.4k

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

~We couldn’t turn around 

Till we were upside down

I’ll be the bad guy now

But no, I ain’t too proud~

She could not truly explain the numb feeling in her chest. The way her blood flooded quicker whenever a certain jester came to her mind, how her eyes filled with tears at the memory of her begging, of her offering the impossible only to not feel neglected by her significant other.

But she never bothered to see his true colors, the way whenever she would open her heart to him, the teasing smile that adorned his lips, the mockery shining in his eyes, the little laughs whenever she truly thought he was paying attention.

~I couldn’t be there

Even when I try~

She was idiot enough to think that maybe; just maybe, inside his hollow chest there was still a little piece of his rotten heart that could at least respect her, but lying to herself is the best magic trick she learned over the time of her life she shared with Hisoka.

It was not the fact that she blinded herself out of love; she wanted to avoid the obvious; she wanted to ignore the way his eyes will linger in other girls as they walked down the street on cute little “dates” he would take her only to make sure she would not nag his head off for being such an asshole. 

Y/n always was quick to give Hisoka a blind eye whenever he would come over to her apartment looking for shelter, with his clothes slightly awkward on contrary of how the jester always made sure to look presentable, how whenever he kissed her in his lips always lingered a stain of lipstick that it wasn’t hers . How through the collar of his shirt there were colored marks on his skin that she never left because Hisoka hated to be marked by her, claiming to not be property of anyone.

So the best she could do was make her heart and mind go numb; no longer bother to shed tears whenever the jester took from her every ounce of life and cherish, soft loving whispers falling from her lips and then fade away from her life for days, weeks, even months. How even a numb-feeling assassin will mock her, teasing her in little matters whenever Hisoka popped into their conversations.

How the troupe of thieves will look at her like she was the greatest joke they have heard so far; and some others with pure pity.

~You don’t believe it

We do this every time~

How y/n thought that the best way from getting rid of a nuisance was by bringing another one into her life, one that will make her feel her fingers loose, her eyes slightly heavy as soon the burning sensation left in her throat became so usual that it seemed she was drinking plain water.

Somehow the strong smell of liquor staining her breath and mind was not enough; so she added a new little trick to her nightly routine, her eyes now becoming puffy, and her mind so loud and wild that instead of feeling numb she felt like venturing the world while laying down at her couch.

The long black-haired assassin had had enough of seeing the most composed person in his life to crumble down over someone not worthy of her sorrow, so soon; he also became a constant in y/n’s melancholic nights, how he would hide her precious edibles and little stash until it was safe for him to throw it away, the liquor supply becoming more and more unavailable, soon enough she was back again sober enough to feel once again, now feeling the self-consciousness her new hobbies hide, but more like irritation over the black-eye assassin

“Funny how ever since you started to come here my buzz has been drying night by night Illumi” she snarled, her mood swings becoming more prominent, but Illumi kept on with his plan, it was a perfect plan in his eyes. Instead of destroying her potential and life over a self-destructive moron, Illumi decided to teach her that there were other ways for her to feel such as a broken heart

“Maybe you’re just taking more than usual and is no longer enough with the amount you are used to” 

It was a little trick here and there. Enough for her to grow scared of the little ghost she was becoming, soon it was not only Illumi the one who visited her home often, but also a certain leader, his book never leaving his hand while he pretended to be there just to enjoy her favorite reading chair, which by pure coincidence was right in front of where she always drowned her regrets in.

To the added mix became more and more people until her home felt too crowded, too much noise, too much people for her to deal with after isolating herself from the world since the early months of that year.

It was a faithful night, the radio playing softly in the background as now she was no longer in the couch where she used to throw herself over, drink and weed in each hand while looking over her ceiling. Now she was seated over Chrollo’s claimed chair, moved over the balcony at the right of her living room as she looked over the stars, the cold night making her skin invade of goosebumps as the bitter memory of the night her life went down the drain came into her mind

It was a sunny day, awfully a bright, good sunny day. Good enough to make her get up early, no need of her alarm as the curtains of her bedroom window barely caught the light of the warm blooming sun.

It was a happy day; but inside her heart, like a sixth sense, there was an ugly monster crawling, having weeks growing and growing inside her little heart whenever Hisoka came to her mind. 

But she decided to ignore the monster bubbling inside her mind, the nightmare shadow of second guessing her lover’s true intentions.

She decided to give Hisoka the benefit of a doubt and the little monster only kept growing and growing, every night that passed over the last 3 days since he announced he will be around town doing business smiling at her, in the middle of the night waking her up by the terrifying laugh it will bubble from the sharp-fanged mouth that had, the way whenever Hisoka’s name left her lips in a whimper it teased her, telling her just how worthless she was in the jester’s eyes.

So, today was a sunny bright day to go down town and do a few of her pending errands and calm the beast down, proving it that there was nothing to worry about, that Hisoka was a man of his word. And god how did she regret being so right.

~Seasons change and our love went cold~

She regretted getting so up in the morning and running a fresh shower now that she saw her lover walking with two ladies tangled by his sides as Hisoka kept a sensual pace all the way down to the motel.

She regretted using the little overall skirt that she adored with all her heart along with her favorite shirt as she waited outside the motel until late at night to find a lover covered in love bites and yet, one of the ladies by his side.

She hated that she did her makeup with so much effort, looking herself through the mirror and admiring herself, whispering to her own little ears just how beautiful she truly was; only to have Hisoka mock her in the middle of the street as the piercing dagger in the middle of her heart kept going deeper and deeper the more Hisoka spoke

~Feed the flame ‘cause we can’t let go~

“Oh kitten, how pathetic of you to truly believe I ever loved you. I don’t do love princess, I fuck who I lust for, and both of us know, it’s been a long while since I visited your little downtown”

But the most she hated, was the little steps she took joyful as she walked down the streets, treating herself to little desires as more than a coffee and a snack and looking for a gift for her lover thinking he truly loved her.

The fact of knowing the monster crawling inside her mind was right; how it laughed at her just like Hisoka and the beautiful lady by his side. The way the little monster became bigger and bigger When Hisoka spoke hurtful words in her direction

~I dare you to do something

I’m waiting on you again 

So I don’t take the blame~

“No one of importance”

“How pathetic”

“I actually did you a favor’”

How the assassin she thought that had an ounce of empathy at least at one of her tip of his needles only laughed at her 

~Run away, but we running in circles~

“Did you truly believe Hisoka would love someone like you?” 

Once again she felt like a child, the scolded child her mother hated to see after punishing her for doing something wrong, how she would scold her for having a tear-stained face like she was victim when in fact it was her fault the punishment she got. How her mother will lock her inside her room for days on with no contact to the outer world because she decided to go downstairs when she was clearly busy.

~Run away. Run away. Run away~

And so, the urgent need of changing her home upside down invaded her body, anxious enough to move maybe a little too fast, making the assassin move quick enough to get her before her face smashed against the floor. The way her body tingled with excitement as her eyes once again sparked with the same mischief like before she dipped herself into the jester’s magic tricks

~Let go

I got a feeling that it’s time to let go~

Suddenly, the thought of her bed felt wrong, the way her room was coordinated felt unsettling and just thinking about how she would throw herself into it by the time she went to bed felt wrong

“What are you doing?” The assassin questioned, confused by her sudden burst of energy as she looked over him

“It’s spring Illumi! Spring!” She cheered, excitedly walking fast over her windows and opening them wide, the assassin once again feeling terrified by just how much emotion she handled in her body in such short periods of time

“Yes, it is Spring” he answered, y/n snorting before she turned around and her hands on her hips

“It’s spring cleaning Illumi. We’re cleaning!” To say that Illumi’s was more than excited of just leaving her on her own to do her own thoughtless actions was beyond tempting, but also, he was curious about what exactly she was meaning about this spoken Spring Cleaning that got her so excited.

And soon, as Illumi saw how she pulled empty boxes from her closet and she opened her drawers; only to notice how many pieces of her lengerie were thrown into them and so as certain cards and other little gifts, Illumi felt the need enough to call for second hands and try to help him to figure out just what she planned to do

~I say so

I knew this was doomed from the get go~

When a troupe arrived to the home, along with 4 declares enemies; Illumi felt more peaceful

“What the hell Zoldyck, you said this was an emergency, not a fucking hangout-“ but as soon as Nobunaga’s snark comments came and invade her home, they left as they saw her, her hair in a high pony tail and sweat lightly dripping from her forehead, a bright smile in her face, and boxes in both of her arms as she stood from the top of her stairs

“Oh, hey guys!” y/n spoke, excited to see her friends, the boxes in her arms being let go as both of them slammed against the floor, the sudden crash of something fragile inside either one or both alarming the entire party as she dusted her hands, looking proud

“Glad you see you all, but I’m a little busy at the moment as you can see” she pointed at the boxes, the bitter smell of the cologne a certain jester used invading their nostrils, Chrollo being quick to connect the loose ends as he smiled al little bit, but the rest of the troupe still confused

“Y/n… are those… Hisoka’s things?” Shalnark asked, taking his words with much care as to not fright the little dove in front of them while her smiled grew 

~You thought that it was special, special~

“Yes!” She replied excited before turning around over her room, leaving them at the entrance hallway, but Shalnark had many questions in his mind, why was Hisoka’s cologne infesting the entire room to be specific, in a box she threw out of her arms like she was dealing with bad things like trash

“Why?” Pakunoda pushed, looking over the entrance of her bedroom as the excited young adult ripped the sheets from her mattress, throwing them over the floor before she looked back at them

“Spring cleaning! Didn’t Illumi tell you when he called? It’s spring cleaning” she answered, like trying to explain a child the obvious answer before she pulled the mattress from the wooden base, moving little by little until half of it was out of it

~But it was just the sex though, the sex though~

“So, you’re throwing things away?” Shizuku was the next to ask, confused as to why exactly he was called over before she smiled nodding her head

“Why are we throwing good things away?” Shalnark frowned, still not getting the point as she rolled her eyes

“Spring cleaning it’s the time of year where you get rid of shit you don’t longer need in your life” she answered, the words leaving her mouth smooth, too smooth for a woman with the broken heart to speak so freely

“And what’s the shit we’re getting rid off?” Phinks questioned, pushing the people from her door aside as he took his jacket off, rolling his shoulders as he pulled and twisted the sleeves of his shirt as much as he could to make it a muscle shirt

“Bad vibes shit” was all she answered, but it was enough for a few of them to know that finally; she was done with her little depressing episode over the jester once her heart loved unconditionally, the blood of a bitter year finally ending its tour in her soul and now; once again, being the quirking little spirit they once met.

Just like how boxes of gifts and clothes were thrown out, soon her entire bed followed, with the help of the male part of the troupe as the girls kept themselves busy over her living room and kitchen, looking for anything that reminded her of the jester.

But to everyone’s surprise, she was getting rid of everything

“Are you sure, 100% positive that this couch needs to leave along with the fucking plasma tv?”

“Spring cleaning Shalnark!”

And so, as the day went by, with the help of her friends, her home was now nothing but the entire emptiness of echoes and walls, no room reserves with anything, not a single chair, not a single table, not even a cup or a spoon

~And I still hear the echoes (the echoes)

I got a feeling that it’s time to let it go

Let it go~

She truly got rid of everything in her apartment, everything being left out in the street with a sign in big bold letters of FREE, TAKE WHATEVER YOU PLEASE, the way her heart hammered against her ribcages was exciting, almost teasing her to keep on, being barely noon, she still had plenty of time to keep moving forward

“She even got rid of the fucking stove. And the damn fridge” Feitan grumbled, looking over the empty kitchen

“What the hell, you threw out my fucking stove?” She snarled, her attention disappearing from the empty living room for a second as she looked over the men 

“You said you get rid of everything!”

“Except the kitchen!"

“How were we going to know!”

“And where is my reading chair Chrollo?”

So on, the next three days were eventful enough for her to be moving up and down around town, the snark comments coming from the party of males who moved all the way down to the first floor of the building to retract her precious kitchen only to notify that her fridge was long gone, as she chew over the big bad boss, threatening his future bloodline if he didn’t return her precious chair, if he ever dare to have one.

Instead of plain cold white, her living room was not a soft, kissed pastel of baby grey, the way it contrasted all her new furniture bringing lightness to her heart, her kitchen now bright white and dark wooden floors, the midnight black dinner table contrasting lovely with her pearl china and silverware cutlery.

~Maybe you don’t understand what I’m through 

It’s only me, what you got to loose?~

The smell of fresh paint invaded her senses as she moved along her home to open all the available windows, the purpose of change in her heart was big and evident enough for no one to question her decision and just how exactly she desired to view the world from now on. Just as changed came into her life in a material world, so they did in her loving. Her hair no longer at the competing length as Illumi’s. It now tickled her cheeks in soft little curls whenever she moved a little too quickly. Her wardrobe entirely changed, everything she ever owned either being thrown away or giving as hand-downs, since her clothing was all in a perfect shape and some pieces even brand new.

~Make up your mind, tell me, what are you gonna do?~

The little monster was no longer invading her nights and days, suddenly the gloomy days that invaded her morning were now the brightest, the excitement in her body enough to rub off even in the most odd of her companions, and once again, it was a sunny day.

She was wearing her favorite jean overall skirt, along with a white t-shirt underneath and her snickers making match with it.

The man she was clinging over in his ever odd green outfit

“Illumi please~ just one~” she cried, getting heavier and heavier over his arms as the little tick in his eye made presence, the little smirk in her lips going unnoticed by the assassin as he tried to push her away, only to have her grip her arms around his waist in quite and odd hug since he tried to rip her off his body

“If I say yes, will you let me go?” the male grumbled, hating the idea of so much attention on him, but even worse the feeling in his chest whenever she hugged him

“If you tell me where Chrollo hid my most precious treasure, maybe”

~It’s only me, let it go~

But for her odd luck, back in the roof of a building, the little monster that once invaded her heart, was now a monster hunting the jester she once loved. And it felt horrible just how much it crawled in his mind even in days when he had promised to not think of her.

At first, it was the memory of the night she caught him red handed in his little adventures, but Hisoka payed her no mind, knowing deep in his heart, that in no longer than three days; she would be calling him on his cellphone, at least three times the first day and after the third time he did not answer; leaving him a voicemail asking him, pleading, begging, that if he had time in his hands to spare, she would be waiting for him at her apartment.

But the calls never came, Hisoka assumed she needed a little bit more of time for her to come around, after all, this was not like the other times many fights happened. 

It was not a day where she smelled a perfume that was not hers in his clothes.

It was not the kisses stained that didn’t belong to her at his neck to jaw.

It wasn’t the false hope of maybe it being an odd coincidence.

~Seasons changed and our love went cold~

Soon the thought of her left his mind as quick as it arrived and he continued on to pursue his life as a single man, scoffing and mocking the memory of her being such an obedient pet for him; such a good little girl only for him. Turning into a sour note in his being.

As time passed, Hisoka saw less and less of her, it was almost as she became a ghost to hunt him along his days.

That’s when, after such teasing manners with the troupe he became part with started talking 

“It was an odd weekend” it was all Shalnarkl spoke about those three days when there was nowhere in the current hideout, how all of the sudden they seemed busy, everyone but him

“Ask the boss, not me” avoiding his nosy interrogation, he was fed enough with vague excuses and wanted to know the truth

And, after a year where he was waiting for her to come around, the reality of his situation hit him so harsh, never did Hisoka imagined to feel his chest contrast in such a painful way 

“Ah yes. We were busy helping y/n doing her spring cleaning, she got rid of something” that was the first time the little monster appear, hiding in the shadows of his mind, eyes bright and fangs out of its mouth, mouth drooling at the taste of Hisoka’s distress, specially at the witnessing eye he was glaring, daggers in his irises that killed Chrollo over a hundred times once he realized just where the phantom troupe leader was sitting

“And what was that something you helped my little ripe fruit that you got rid of Dauncho?” Chrollo could feel the uneasiness from Hisoka, it was palpable, like a wild caged animal trying to scent the room in order to feel safe, but much to his poor luck, Chorllo was not feeling sympathy enough in his heart and mind to share some with the clown in his troupe

“Well, you of course” and like a rabid dog, the monster bit Hisoka down deep in his insecurities, like a bucket of cold water in his overheated skin, goosebumps invading his skin as the realization of where he stood hit him at the back of his head

She got rid of everything that reminded her of him

~Feed the flame ‘cause we can’t let go~

The red eye monster no longer left Hisoka’s side, it had been nearly half a year since that realization became palpable in his life. The way his throat knotted when as soon as Chrollo finished giving his explanation he flew all the way down to her home. Only to find pieces of himself thrown like trash, he was not spoken lies to when Chorllo told him where exactly they went that long weekend, the rain heavy and hurtful over Hisoka’s shoulders as he saw the boxes of gifts he once bought his beloved, including gifts and things she bought for him. Everything away like they never meant anything, nothing to care about, to cherish, to love

Just like you did with her little heart 

The monster mocked, laughing louder and louder every time Hisoka dared to deny the reality of his situation, how he in fact took her for granted. The one person he always crawled back whenever he was feeling down; in the need of company either by distraction or in the silent bliss of just having her in his arms.

Indeed Hisoka threw her heart to the trash before stepping on it over and over again a thousand times, but never did he expect for her to get rid of him in such a way

~Run away, but we’re running in circles~

Hisoka remembers the day she finally, shut her heart closed from him.

The tears that once ran down her porcelain skin, were now invading his eyes, feeling helpless and the monster crawled in his mind, feral and pushing him over the edge of mania further from the forbidden emotions he already felt.

The helplessness in her steps as she ran away from him not made his legs feel like jelly whenever he took a step forward, fighting against the monster inside his head, screaming at it in his mind that it was wrong and she will love him once again as soon as she sees him

The vile in his throat leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as he saw just how happy she was.

She needed to feel miserable, just like him, he no longer had that little feeling in his heart, the excitement of going back into her arms like once the blue moon far away from now. But he felt numb, no longer did Hisoka had the desire of moving forward and leaving in the past. 

He needed her to need him.

The knowing fact that she no longer felt miserable without him irked him, why was she so happy to get him out of her life? 

Did he really deserve such treatment? Did he ruined her love for him enough to say he was no longer worth to have in her life, such as throwing everything away he even once touch like the worst of virus invaded said articles?

The monster inside his head finally won the final battle before leaving him; feeling as empty as ever, no purpose in life other than the desire of fulfillment; the need of feeling something; anything, to crash him like a gave to once again, learn how to ignore the emptiness in his body, the dark thought of being reminded he was left alone, no one needing him, everyone hating him. But why was he feeling like this?

 Wasn’t this what he wanted all along? Stirring feeling inside people that made them feel confused, distress, sorrow; whenever they thought about him? Did is what he wanted all along, isn’t it true? He was bored with her, that was the excuse he used when he decided she was too loving for him.

After all; Hisoka loves to feel, but not much, just enough to know he caused an impact, and just like that; rip it away harsh enough to leave an ugly scar, the memory of him impregnated in their minds forever.

But it seemed like now; the ugly scar was not in her, but in his empty broken heart.

~Run away, Run away

Run away~

*Fin*

[stones-x-bones]

It’s Only Water (Day 1)|| Mina, Frank and Bex

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @drowningisinevitable and @inbextween and Frank SUMMARY: After weeks of planning, Frank finally puts his play into motion. When it rains, it pours.  CONTENT: Domestic Abuse references

If she wasn’t so worried, Mina might have scolded herself for how quickly she responded that she’d meet with Bex. Mina really would do anything for her. Anything. Bex only had to ask, and Mina would be there. Even if that meant meeting late at night in the woods. Especially if that meant meeting late at night in the woods. She had her phone out to make sure that she got the location right. She walked carefully, looking out for monsters, people. It grew oddly quiet, the closer she got to where she was supposed to meet Bex. Nothing stirred. That worried her. Everything about this worried her. She tried not to let it show too much. As she drew close to the marker on her phone, Mina called out, “Bex?” She couldn’t keep the worry out of her voice. She couldn’t. She couldn’t. She couldn’t see Bex, and she was supposed to already be there, and everything about this felt wrong. Something was wrong. Mina didn’t have time to comprehend just how wrong it was, though. 

Frank had been preparing this for weeks. Scouting the area, making sure it was secluded, off the path, but not too strangely out of the way. He had set up traps (an iron net, iron bear traps, and his favorite, an iron tripwire that would trigger if she tried to run once she was inside of the area) and built his own seat up in one of the trees to watch and lie in wait. The prosthetic hand he now sported had iron in the fingertips and the knuckles, the palm. Cold iron. It would hurt. He wanted it to hurt. The iron knife he’d stabbed Bexley with was sheathed in his boot, ready for the final blow-- he hadn’t even cleaned the blood off. It would hurt more. He would make it hurt and he would savor it. Finally, he heard her footsteps approaching and pressed himself low, the crossbow in his hand ready to aim. Just a few more steps. She looked nervous. Good. She should be. The first shot was a warning, right in her shoulder. The second was on purpose, a bolt through the leg. Frank dropped from the tree before she could say much of anything and aimed the crossbow once again. “Surprised?” he asked, grinning.

Being shot was one of Mina’s least favorite experiences. It had only happened a few times. Before the two crossbow bolts lodged themselves into her, she’d been able to count the number on one hand. Of course, she’d need two, now. She stumbled, first as one of the bolts sunk into her shoulder and again when she was shot in the leg. The shock was more prevalent than the pain, confusion causing her eyes to widen as she frantically looked around her for the source of the attack. And then he dropped down from a tree. The warden. Frank. His name was Frank. He was a human being with a human name standing there with a gleeful human grin on his face. “You,” she said, and her stomach started sinking as she realized that it wasn’t Bex that asked her to be there. Mina had walked herself into a trap. This was what carelessness got her. This was what being overly emotional and under prepared got her. “I don’t want to fight.” She was already backing up, despite the pain in her leg, looking for a way out of this situation. A part of her wanted to kill him for what he’d done to Bex, kidnapping her and chasing her through the forest. But Bex hadn’t wanted him dead then. Mina doubted she’d want him dead now. 

Frank laughed and it echoed and it was void of any empathy. “You might not,” he growled, “but I do.” He lifted the crossbow again, aiming directly at her. He was tired of waiting, he was tired of being yanked around by people. By Bexley, by her mother, by his own parents. THey’d all done this to him. They’d all made him into this. “I think I’m gonna enjoy killing you, monster,” he growled. He was already enjoying the amount of confusion on her face as she had tried to figure out what was going on. He smiled again, a toothy, angry thing, splitting his face in half. “Bexley says hi, by the way,” he chided. He wanted her to get angry. He wanted to make sure she fought back. It would be pointless if she didn’t fight back. His finger stayed on the trigger, even as he lowered the crossbow. “I dropped by to see her the other week. She was with another girl. At least, until I stabbed her. Not sure where she ended up after that.”

Eyes widening again before they narrowed, Mina practically snarled at the boy, her eyes full of hate. She stopped backing away. “What do you mean you stabbed her?” Stabbed her? Why would he stab Bex? Wasn’t his whole point that he wanted to protect her from the dangerous, murderous Fae? “Why would you stab her? She’s human. She’s human. What about your bloody code?” Unless his code wasn’t like hers. Unless his code just allowed him to kill whoever and whatever he deemed necessary, and he’d now deemed an innocent human girl necessary. Mina didn’t understand it. But she had made him a promise, hadn’t she? “I told you if you hurt her again, I’d take your other hand,” she said quietly, coolly. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t going to let her emotions rule her. She was furious, though. She’d rip his hand off with claws and teeth if she had to. She didn’t care. She shifted her weight into her uninjured leg, keeping herself light and ready for an attack. She wasn’t making the first move, but she wasn’t running either. 

“You’re really asking me why?” Frank spat, bewildered that she was still caught up in this strange narrative that what she was doing wasn’t hurting Bexley. “It’s because of you!” He snarled back, loosing another bolt. But in his fury, it had flown high right. He threw the crossbow down and lunged at her, swinging his new iron first. It whistled through the air. Why wasn’t she getting angry, too? He wanted to see her angry. One swing missed, but he swerved on the back swing to try and slam his knuckles into the side of her face. “My code is about erasing scum like you from the earth! And sometimes civilians get caught in the crossfire. Whatever happens to her now, it’s your fault!” 

“Because I cared about her?” Mina asked, ducking left as he shot. He was just as sloppy as she expected, and, certainly, he could blame it on the missing limb, but she knew what it was. He was reckless, overzealous, out of control. He was a shoddy hunter. No matter. He wouldn’t be much of one at all when she took his other hand. She wondered if Nell’s hellhounds would want it. She stopped wondering about anything as cold iron connected with the side of her face. She couldn’t help but cry out, the heat and cold of the metal at war as she felt the burn forming on her cheekbone. She cradled her face with one hand. “You’re a fool,” she spat out. 

“Because you poisoned her mind!” Frank hissed. His knuckles connected in a satisfying crack and he could smell the iron burning her skin. He grinned and turned back to face her, curling his prosthetic into a fist. “I’m the fool? Have you looked at your life recently? Or her life?” He swung again. Again. Always with the iron fist. He wanted to burn her again. He wanted to hear her scream again. He was backing her straight towards one of his snares. It would bind her leg and burn all the more. “You ruined everything!” He shouted, charging her now, bent low, ready to tackle her.

Mina tried to dodge as many of the blows as she could, but she was tired and injured and slow. She’d been sleeping even worse than normal since she and Adam had gone into the portal. She wasn’t doing her best. Again and again the iron burned her skin, through the sleeves of her shirt. He burned her arms, her jaw. Scales formed around the burns as if trying to protect her, but there was no protection, no tolerance for cold iron. “Have you looked at your— “ she cut herself off with a short scream. She’d pivoted out of the way of his tackle only to step on a pressure plate, triggering a bear trap that dug metal teeth into her leg. 

Frank tumbled to the ground as she pivoted, but his ears were greeted with music as she screamed in agony. One of his bear traps had gone off. He rolled and stood back up easily-- he’d always been agile on his feet-- and turned back towards her. “We had a good thing going,” he snarled, reaching down to slowly pull out the iron knife sheathed in his boot. He held it up to her so she could see the blood caked on it. Turned it over in his hand as he watched her from a safe distance. “And you ruined it. She has to die now because of you.” He gripped the handle of the serrated knife so tight his own knuckles turned white. “I hope you know that this is your fault.” 

“You call a lie a good thing?” Mina asked, but she paled considerably. It wasn’t from the loss of blood, either, or the pain. Not completely. “No, no, no,” she said, her fingers clawing at the bear trap as she tried to free her leg. He would not kill Bex. He would not. Her blood was still on his knife. She bared her teeth at him, sharp and deadly, with a mix of fear and fury pouring itself into her. She stopped trying to mess with the bear trap. She’d rip him apart the second he got close enough to her. She just needed to get him close enough to her. “You’re delusional,” she said, her voice low. She sneered. “It must feel good to be able to lie to yourself like that.”

“A lie?” Frank growled, advancing quickly. But he stopped just shy, watching her teeth bare and her scales crack across her skin. He was confused for a moment, but blinked it away. She might not be the type of fae he thought, but he understood how they worked. He held the knife up. “It wasn’t a lie until you came along!” He lashed out, then, unable to hold his ire back. The blade slashed across skin satisfyingly. “I’m not delusional. You are.” His teeth clenched as he stepped back, away from her grasp. “Thinking you could keep her safe, thinking she could ever have a normal life with you?” He gestured emphatically to himself. “I could’ve taken care of her! I could’ve protected her! Even if she never loved me back, I could’ve given her those things. But you? What have you given her? Really think about it and ask yourself that-- what have you given her except pain and heartbreak?”

“It was a lie to her. She was never going to return your affections.” And maybe Mina didn’t know that explicitly, but she knew it was the truth. There was no way Bex would have seen this reckless boy as anything more than a friend. She jerked back, the knife slashing across her collarbones. “I never thought I could give her a normal life. I just wanted her to be happy.” Without thinking, she ripped the crossbow bolt out of her shoulder and used it as an improvised weapon. He might have escaped her claws, but that gave her attacks just a bit more reach. “I’m not the one that tried to kidnap her. I’m not the one that’s made her bleed. When she wakes up screaming at night, it’s not because of me. She’s not afraid of me.” Mina grinned, mouth bloody. She was breathing heavy. Everything hurt. She managed to stand, even with one leg still caught. “I may be a monster, but you’re the bad guy in her eyes.”

Her words cut Frank deeper than any wound. Certainly deeper than the bolt slashing at him. He jerked back, watching a thin line of blood begin to pool on his arm. Grit his teeth and glowered at her. Without much warning, he lunged at her again, knocking them both to the ground. He grabbed the bolt in her leg as he did and twisted, his other arm bracing against her shoulders as they collided with dirt. “You have no idea why I did what I did! I was trying to save her from them and you people led her straight back!” He lifted his fist and punched at her face. “And now we’re all suffering! You, her, me!” He punched again. “Why couldn’t you just let me take her away from here?”

Between the ambush and the iron and the fact that Mina was already tired and weak, she knew that her chances of making it out of this were growing slim. Pinned to the ground, being beaten, her leg still trapped in the iron maw of a bear trap. Frank wanted to kill her. She was in no shape to even try fighting him off. “She didn’t want you to,” she rasped out. Then she spat blood into his face. “She didn’t want you to take her, so I couldn’t let you.” She weakly reached out with one clawed hand, webbing between her fingers and scales trailing up her arm under her sleeves. She dug sharp nails into whatever skin she could grasp. She hoped he did suffer, for Bex’s sake. 

Frank fought against nails tearing at his skin. He didn’t care. He wanted her to die. He wanted her to suffer. He cried out as they scraped at his face, his arms, his chest. Blood was soaking the both of them, but he knew only his blood would hurt her. He drove his thumb into the bolt hole in her shoulder, the iron of his prosthetic nearly cauterizing the wound as he did so. He could smell it burning. He grabbed his knife once more, still stained with Bexley’s blood, and held it above Mina’s chest. “Odell sends her regards,” he growled, before he drove the knife into her side, right where he knew it would hurt. Where he knew once he left her, she’d bleed out. Slowly, painfully. Suffering. He leaned down close to her. “Don’t worry,” he muttered, and his voice was flat now, “I’ll make sure Bex joins you soon.”

There was still enough fight in Mina for her to scream, not in pain but in raw fury as Frank said that Bex would be joining her soon. She was going to kill him. She was going to kill him. Even if it was the last thing that she did. She lashed out with her claws again, but there was only so much that she could do like this. There was a knife in her side eating away at her slowly. There was still a crossbow bolt in her leg. She was still trapped. There was only so much she could do. But she still tried, still raked her nails against his face. “I’ll kill you,” she snarled out. She felt feverish. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you.” 

Even through nails raking across his face, Frank could feel the fae getting weaker. He gave his knife another good shove, feeling her blood leaking out over his hand, before he yanked the blade out, listening to its serrated edge tear through her skin, her muscle. Finally, he stood back up, spitting blood down, wiping it from his face with his sleeve. His chest heaved as he looked down at her. “Guess you’re not gonna keep that promise after all, are you,” he spat back, before driving his knife into the ground near her head. He didn’t want the trophy, nor the reminder. He stepped away, tempted, almost, to stay and watch her die. Watch the light drain from her eyes. But if anyone came along them, it would be bad news. He would return tomorrow to dispose of the body. Without another word, he turned and walked back into the brush.

He couldn’t get away. Mina had to kill him before he hurt Bex. She had to. She had to. “Come back,” she muttered. “Come back. Come back. Come back.” She attempted to sit up, groaning but pushing through the pain as her hands went to the bear trap around her ankle, and she attempted to pry it off. She had to get it off. She had to go after him. She couldn’t let him get to Bex. She was weak, too weak to pull it off. She needed to call someone. She needed to call Morgan, tell her to get help, tell her to make sure that Bex was safe. Bex had to be safe. Mina searched for her phone frantically. She found it, and she wanted to sob. She’d dropped it, and it was just out of her reach. There was no one to call. There was nothing to do but sit there and bleed out and hope that he didn’t get to Bex. Mine sat down and pulled her chest towards her knees, careful not to bump the bear trap too much. Not that it mattered. She was in so much pain her eyes were going spotty with it. She rested her head on her knees and put one hand over the wound in her side, attempting to stem the bleeding. She was hurt. She was dying. She wasn’t going to be able to get to Bex. That was Mina’s last coherent thought. She wasn’t going to be able to get to Bex. 

Bex ran. Her heart was beating in her throat. Frank was going after Mina. She held the phone tight in her hand, staring wide-eyed at the messages. It’s not me! She tried to shout, but he’d taken the card out. It’s not me! He’d left it there on purpose. He’d wanted her to see. He knew she’d come running. Or did he? She didn’t care. She didn’t care. He could come for her, she didn’t care. As long as he didn’t hurt Mina, she couldn’t let him hurt Mina. “MINA!” she screamed as she ran through the forest. Flashes of before played at the edges of her vision. Sometimes when she looked down, she wasn’t wearing shoes. Sometimes a fog that didn’t exist curled around her. Sometimes she was swallowing dirt and mud. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.”MINA!” she shouted again, her voice raw, full of terror, of dread. She was sure this was the spot. Her shoes dug at the ground. She spun in a circle, looking up at the trees. “Mina!” she tried again. “Mina, please!” She twisted and burst through a patch of bushes. “Min--” her voice caught mid word. There, in the middle of the clearing. A body, curled up, so covered in red, she was barely recognizable at first. Bex felt her body fill with ice. She raced over, tripping over her own feet, the vines on the ground, the rocks. She fell over next to her and reached out to touch her, but paused. Was she breathing? “Mina,” she sputtered through tears, placing her hand on her forehead. It came away stick with blood. “Mina, please.” She looked down at the trap around her leg. She needed to get it off. She started prying at it. It wouldn’t budge. “C’mon,” she grunted, “COME ON!”

The tugging at her leg made Mina cry out, even if she tried hard not to. She bit down the sound as much as she could, trying not to be loud. She couldn’t be loud. She couldn’t. Her head felt foggy; she knew she’d lost a lot of blood, too much. She’d lost too much blood. Not bothering to lift her head, Mina moved her hands down to try and help pry off the thing around her leg, but she wasn’t sure-- Everything was so fuzzy. She couldn’t be loud. It hurt. Everything was wrong. There was a tug, the teeth of the trap briefly exiting her leg before they dug back in. “Stop!” she managed to gasp out. “Stop. Stop. Just-- second. I need a second.” She needed a second to catch her breath. She needed a second to remember how to breathe. Blinking blood out of her eyes, Mina finally looked down at the hands near hers, trying to pry the bear trap open, before following them up to see who was attached to them. “Bex,” she murmured, and it felt like there was a weight lifted off her shoulders. Bex was okay. Bex was alive. That was all that mattered. Nothing else mattered. And then everything came crashing back to her, and Mina strained to sit up, her eyes frantic. “No. No, no, no! Leave! He’s still--” She looked around as if expecting Frank to appear out of thin air. “Please, leave! Please, please, please. He’ll hurt you-- He’ll kill-- please, Bex, please.” She tugged weakly at Bex’s hands, trying to push her away, but Mina didn’t have much strength left. All she could do was beg the word repeated and slurring together over and over again. “Please. Please. Please.”

Mina started screaming, hands coming down to try and fold into the mix with Bex’s. She let go briefly when she told her to stop, hands shaking. She didn’t know what to do. She was useless. She wasn’t strong enough. She needed to be stronger. Ripping the knife out of the ground, she wedged it between the teeth, careful not to let it touch Mina, and then gripped the metal of the bear trap as Mina started begging her to leave. Her desperation pushed wild magic into her palms and she felt metal bend under her fingertips briefly. She squeezed and it crumpled and she tore the metal apart until Mina’s leg was free. Her hands burned. She didn’t care. “I’m not leaving,” she said, scooting back up towards Mina’s face. She brushed her hair away from her eyes. There was so much blood. “I don’t care if he comes back.” She would tear every bit of his mind out if she had to. Pocketing the knife, still slick with Mina’s blood, she shoved her hands under Mina’s shoulders and began to prod her to sit up. She was no medical expert, she couldn’t assess the injuries herself. She needed to get Mina back to town. It was such a far walk. They wouldn’t make it. Bex swallowed back tears. “C’mon, we have to go,” she muttered, lifting Mina’s arm around her shoulders. “We gotta stand up. Can you stand?” She wasn’t going to listen to her begging, even if it made her chest seize and her eyes water. “I’m here,” she repeated, “I’m here, I’ve got you. Y-you’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” Blood smeared across Bex’s side, but she didn’t care-- all she cared about was getting her back. Saving her. She couldn’t let her die. She wouldn’t. She would drain every last ounce of life from Frank and shove into Mina if she had to. She wouldn’t let her die.

“Please, leave. Please. Please.” Mina kept repeating it, even though her words became choked as Bex started moving her, the wound in her shoulder that had been mostly cauterized by iron opening itself up as her shoulders were tugged on. “I care. I care. I care. I--” She groaned, cutting off her own words, but she managed to stand, even though it was hard, even though she didn’t want to. There was still a crossbow bolt in her “good” leg. She needed to pull it out. She looked down at it, the parts of her brain that were still functioning through the haze of pain and panic telling her what a bad idea that was, and it was an effort not to lean down and pull it out. The main reason she didn’t was because she couldn’t. It was already too much effort to keep herself standing, despite the fact that she was leaning against Bex, barely supporting her own weight. She was getting blood all over Bex. It was like her dream. She was getting blood all over Bex. “I don’ want him to hurt you. Please, go. I’ll--” She gagged against a lie that wouldn’t even come out. I’ll be fine. But she wouldn’t. She was dying. “I don’t want him to kill you. He’s going to try to kill you.”

Bex saw the bolt as they stood and she winced. She needed to take it out, but there would just be more blood. More blood. So much blood. She was trembling, shaking, not from exhaustion or effort. Fear gripped every muscle in her limbs. She had to swallow it down. If she didn’t move forward, Mina would die. “Just shut up!” Bex snapped. “Just stop. I’m not leaving you here to die. No matter what. Let him come.” Let him come. She would tear him to shreds. She moved Mina away from the bear traps, careful to not step on anything else. Lowered her down to sit against a tree before worrying her hands over the bolt in her leg. “I-- I have to pull this out,” they weren’t going to get far if they left it in. “It’s gonna--” she looked at Mina. Hurt stuck on her tongue. She looked like she was in so much pain. The picture burned itself into Bex’s eyes. She would never forget. Never forget. She yanked her jacket off and ripped the sleeve off with her teeth, before setting it under Mina’s leg. She’d taken basic first aid, she new she had to tie off the wound. Above it. “Ready? One, two--” she yanked, “--three.” Tossed the bolt aside and tied off the sleeve as tight as possible. Thunder rolled above them. Mina was slipping fast. She wasn’t going to be able to walk. Bex shuffled in front of her and pulled her arms over her shoulders. Reaching back around to let her sag against her back. “I’m gonna get you home, okay?” she said, and she wondered if it was a lie. “We gotta go now.” She swallowed her tears and her fears and her pain, and lifted Mina, grunting with effort. She would get her home safe. She would, she would, she would.

The bolt being removed from Mina’s leg was nothing compared to the pain in her side. She flinched, barely, feeling the Bex tie the jacket but little else. She leaned her face forward into Bex’s neck before jerking back, gasping. She stumbled, putting her legs down and managing to stand on shaky feet. “No, I can’t--” She put her hand over the wound in her side. The movement had caused it to bleed more, though it was coming out sluggishly. “I can’t.” She wasn’t going to make it home. There was simply no way. The rain might help, might offer some relief to her injuries, but there was no way that she could make it back to town with Bex carrying her, and there was certainly no way she’d make it all the way back to the East End. “Bex--” she stopped herself. Asking Bex to leave wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t do that. “I-- I’m not going to make-- I need water.” This wasn’t how she wanted Bex to find out, but there was no other option. She used the hand that wasn’t pressing into the wound on her side to turn Bex towards her, forcing her to look at her. “A lake. A stream. A pond.” She’d even take a puddle, at this point. “Just-- water. I’m not going-- I can’t. Make it home. But there should be water.”

“Stop moving! Stop!” Bex called out, reaching for Mina as she jerked away. She watched globs of blood pour from her side. Fuck. This was so bad. “Stop. Just--” but Mina cut her off. She wasn’t going to make it home. She wasn’t going to make it. Bex’s mind was combing through the thousands of ways she could try and argue, try and figure out how her stupid magic could help. Why couldn’t she stop the bleeding like Nell could? She wished Nell were here, she’d know what to do. She wished Morgan was here, she could help. But it was just Bex who was here. Just Bex. Thunder clapped again and this time drops of rain began to fall. Lightning lit up the sky. Bex flinched away from it and looked back at Mina as she spun her to face her. “Water?” Water. She could do that. Water. The pool. It made sense. Bex reached back out for her and tucked herself around Mina, helping to support her injured foot. It looked ready to fall off, she could see muscle and bone. Bex held back the wave of nausea and focused on Mina. “Just lean on me. I’ll find you water. I’ve got you.” And she started off. Water, water, she needed to find water. How the fuck was she supposed to find water? “Just stay with me, okay? I’ll keep talking. Focus on my voice.” She needed Mina to stay conscious, she couldn’t do this alone. She had to do this. She had to. “I’m sorry I got here too late. I tried. I came as fast as I could. But I’m here now. And I’m not leaving. What-- what do you wanna do when we get back? Maybe we could see a movie. We haven’t watched a movie in a while.” They were lies. She knew they were, but she wanted to give Mina something to fight for. Maybe she would fight to stay alive for her. Thunder rumbled again and rain poured through the trees above them. Bex felt her feet begin to slip on slick mud as the dirt beneath them soaked up the moisture. She would keep going. No matter what. She would keep going. 

“Water,” Mina murmured. It wouldn’t magically fix everything immediately, but it’d stop her from dying. It’d save her leg. Again. She leaned on Bex again, unable to stop herself from sagging against the younger girl, even if she tried to support some of her own weight. She was so tired. She was so tired. The pain in her side was dulling to a numbness, the heat and chill of where the blade pressed in fading much like she was. “I’m here,” she said, her voice quiet. “I’m here.” She closed her eyes, just for a moment. “Movie’d be nice. Whatever you want. I’m okay with whatever you want.” She couldn’t really hear what Bex was saying, all of it fading into gentle white noise. Soothing. Peaceful. She was dying. Maybe, if she died, Bex would save herself. “Tell Morgan I’m sorry, if you can,” she said. The last time she’d been close to death, Morgan had come for her. Mina didn’t think Morgan was going to be able to come this time. It was for the best. This was much worse. She was just sorry Bex had to see her like this. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry… sorry…” Her voice trailed off. Her thoughts trailed off. Mina couldn’t stop herself from becoming deadweight. 

“We could go back to the falls, too,” Bex said, trying not to let Mina’s dying voice get to her ears. She could hear it, she could feel it. With each step, Mina sagged more and more. Bex’s pace slowed as she strained against her weight. She’d never known Mina was so heavy-- or maybe she had. She’d always felt so light with her. Nothing had ever been heavy. They’d always been light together. “You can tell Morgan yourself, when we get back, okay? You can tell her yourself. Don’t apologize,” she said through tears. They washed down her face and mixed with the blood that had smeared onto her. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” Thunder continued to rattle the sky and Bex’s bones. Lightning was quickly becoming the only source of light. With each flash, she saw trees and more trees ahead of her. They needed to find water. How was she supposed to find water? She knew there was a river that ran through the park. She just had to find it. She could find it. She would find it. She had to keep going.

Suddenly, Bex stumbled. Mina’s weight toppled down with her and she tried her best to keep her from hitting the ground too hard. Bex did. She felt her wrist buckle and cried out. She didn’t care. “Mina?” She looked at the other girl. She was so pale. She’d never seen her so pale. A ghost of herself. Red and white. “Mina, wake up. Mina,” she begged, shaking her. “C’mon, wake up! I-- I can’t do this without you. I can’t do this without you! I need you! Mina!” But she didn’t budge, didn’t move. She needed to get her to water now. Bex’s desperation was growing. Gathering up all her strength, all her energy, all her everything, Bex pushed herself back up to stand, shuffling MIna onto her back fully and wrapping her arms around her legs. She could do this. Shoes wholly unfit for this trek dug into the ground as she pushed on forward, Mina slumped on her back. She wasn’t going to let her die. She let the magic she’d been taught guide itself into Mina-- it didn’t feel quite right, snaking its way down Bex’s legs like little strips of poison, but it was enough. It had to be enough. Thought light thoughts. Maybe it wasn’t the same as feather falling, but if Mina’s weight slumping against her was going to fall anyway, at least it would topple slower. She felt only marginally lighter, but it was enough for Bex to push forward. She tried to listen through the rain as it washed away blood that just kept coming. She couldn’t hear anything over the thunder shaking the sky and the forest. She was lost. Everything looked the same. Tears mixed with rainwater. “I can’t do this alone,” she said again, but she wasn’t sure who to. Mina was unconscious and there was no one else around. She had to keep going.

She was by herself. Alone, in the forest. Running again. Bex choked on her own breath, trying to fight through the nightmares that were clawing their way into her mind. Frank was still out here. He might even come back. He might already be looking for them. She couldn’t fight him like this, her magic wasn’t stable enough, she was struggling just to keep it on Mina. If he found them, they were both dead. She had to keep going. Just like before, she had to keep going.

It felt like hours, as the forest fought against her. But it couldn’t have been. She could still feel Mina’s steady heartbeat against her back. It was growing fainter. If she needed water, Bex could only hope and plead that the rain might be helping slow the process. Mina could heal fast. She couldn’t out heal this, though. Not even with the rain. Bex could feel it. She slipped and stumbled and fell and kept going. Over and over and over again. Her body was reaching its limit, but she just kept going. She had to keep going.

Her foot came down, but the earth beneath it slid away, and now they were falling. Bex cried out, trying to grab onto Mina to keep her from landing too hard,--but the hill pulled her down, pulled them down, and she was tumbling head over heels again. Down a hill, in a forest, running from a boy caught in a delusion. She wasn’t alone this time, even if she felt like she was. Her head smacked hard into the ground and she blacked out. She couldn’t keep going.

Her eyes fluttered open. Rain was the only thing she heard. Rain, a ringing in her ears. How long had she been out? “Mina…” she sputtered. The treetops came into view above her. They were spinning. She blinked but they kept going, rain drizzling onto her face as she tried to make the world slow down. She needed to get up. “Mina.” Pushed herself up, coated in mud and leaves and twigs and blood. Again. She looked around desperately, the world tilting left and right in a daze. “Mina?” Started feeling her way around, wiping mud from her eyes. “Mina!?” A soft groan pulled her attention. Twisted and-- there. Beneath a tree, laying face down. Bex rushed over to her on legs that only stayed up right for seconds at a time-- rolled her onto her back. She was still breathing, heart still beating. Bex bent over for a moment and let out a long sob. Hands curled into Mina’s bloody shirt. She couldn’t do it. She’d failed. Mina was going to die and she’d failed. She curled up on the ground next to her, holding her close. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t…” 

Her voice trailed off. The sound of rain echoed around them, through the leaves and the branches and the rocks. She heard the way it rustled like wind and the rushing of water. She heard the rushing of water. Through the rain battering trees, she heard the rush of water. Bex’s head shot up and she scanned the treeline. Lightning showed her it was thinning. She couldn’t give up yet. She wouldn’t. “C’mon,” she huffed, grabbing Mina again and dragging her towards it. “We’re almost there,” she grunted, her voice breaking at every syllable. “I found it, Mina. I found water. We’re here. We made it. Please, say we made it in time.” 

She broke the treeline and there it was. The river was spilling into a small lake, the sight a sanctuary. Bex dragged Mina over to the shore as fast as possible and waded all the way in with her, until she could fully submerge her. Red pooled at the surface where she held Mina under. “Tell me I made it in time!” she shouted, as she waited. “Please, Mina!” She sobbed. It didn’t show in the rain. Something was happening. Mina’s body was changing in her hands. 

Bex watched, silent. Only the thunder and rain made noise.

When Mina was little, she wasn’t allowed to be herself. She wasn’t allowed to shift, to look Fae. Not completely. Some of it she just couldn’t escape. Scales were hard to control, and they broke out against her skin like rashes when she was dehydrated, when she was excited, when she was scared. She’d always had trouble controlling that, accepting that, but things had gotten better the more she learned to be okay with what she was. In White Crest, things had gotten easier, things had gotten more in control. But she’d used that control to appear more human for as long as she could. She’d used that control to hide herself. 

The thing about nixies was that it wasn’t a glamour that made her scales look like skin. That was really her skin. Those were really her scales. Her appearance changed as she wanted it to, as she needed it to, and it was as useful as it was inconvenient at times. She used long sleeves to cover up her inhumanity just as much as she used them to cover up her scars, and it was fine. She was used to it. She shoved down so much of herself that she didn’t even know how to do certain things. She didn’t know how to shift the bones in her legs until they fused together, and she didn’t know how to feel comfortable with the fact that she wasn’t human. She’d never be human. However, she didn’t know how to be Fae, either, and it was to a point that she didn’t want to ask. She couldn’t be both. She couldn’t be either. 

But pain doesn’t care about what you know. Near death doesn’t care about what you remember. The body will fight to keep itself alive. The body will do what it must to make sure the heart beats. The moment she touched water, Mina began to change. Webbing formed between her fingers, her nails grew into claws, her teeth became sharp. Scales sprung up all over, covering her body. Her feet changed, the bones shifting, becoming longer, thinner, but the process was made uncomfortable by her mangled foot. Mina wasn’t quite awake, but she whined a bit in pain, the sound catching in her chest. She was breathing heavily through the gills in her neck, water and oxygen filtering in and out, and she barely managed to open her eyes, looking through the water above her to make eye contact with beautiful brown eyes before her own fluttered shut again. She was safe. She was in pain, but she wasn’t about to die. Her body had protected itself. She just didn’t know what the cost of that would be. 

As Mina’s body changed, Bex stayed still. She’d known, hadn’t she? That Mina wasn’t human. No one at home but herself had been human. Sometimes Bex didn’t even feel human. But not being human didn’t make someone less. Not to Bex, not to the people who mattered, the people who understood. She held tightly onto Mina the entire time. Scales rubbed against her bare arms. They felt smooth. Her hands and feet turned into webbed claws, fins. The water made sense now. Everything made sense now. Something was warring inside of Bex’s head., but it was beaten down by the desperation she’d been holding onto for the past horrifyingly long moments. She didn’t even know how long it had been. She let her own body sink into the water, floating. It felt nice. She pulled Mina into her chest and let her rest under the water. Thunder groaned in the sky again and lightning pierced through it, lighting the reflections of the surface, her own tired face, caked in mud. Bex looked up at the sky and wondered if it was crying for them. Had the rain given them the time they’d needed to get here? Was God looking down on them, on her? Was something else, something bigger? She didn’t know. She didn’t know anymore. 

Soon, the red was washed away. Bex lifted Mina slowly to examine the wounds. They were angry, red marks that made her just as angry and red. Frank had done this. She wanted him dead. But that wasn’t what she needed to focus on right now. They needed shelter. To wait out this storm. Wind was whipping up, warning her of the monsoon that was to follow. She’d lived here long enough to know. Mina had stopped bleeding enough for now, scales stitching skin back together to close her wounds. The gash in her side still looked so raw, but she could fix that later. Her eyes scanned the edges of the lake, their surroundings. There was a small dock on the other side and Bex waded around towards it, her limbs light in the water still screaming in protest against her movements. She had to keep going.

She reached it and hoisted herself up, holding Mina’s arm with one hand, before hooking both arms under hers and lifting her out as well. She was still covered in scales, claws, fins. If someone saw her like this, Bex was worried they might hurt her again. If Frank saw them, he would hurt them both. She looked back over her shoulder. A building. A house. The boat house. Bex laid Mina on the doc and stumbled towards the boat house, shoving the door open. She grabbed the jacket hanging on the hook-- it was old and moth eaten, but would do. Grabbed the first aid kit, the old safety blankets, a tarp, a lighter, and tossed it into one of the wooden boats, dragging it down the dock to where Mina lay. She pulled Mina in, grabbed the rope and started up towards the building farther back in the trees. It looked old and abandoned, but it would do. With the last of her energy, she dropped the boat off in front of the house and carried Mina inside, wincing and apologizing as her feet dragged on the ground. The only thing her mind would consider thinking about right now was getting Mina inside and safe. Just keep going. You’re almost there.

Once Mina was deposited on the couch, Bex went back out to the boat and grabbed the other supplies, shutting the door and dropping them in the middle of the room, before heading around the house to look for more supplies. More blankets, a towel, more gauze. Something to start a fire. She came back out into the main room and crouched next to the couch, and got to work.

Removed her tattered and bloody shirt and everything underneath, her torn pants and the tourniquet she’d put on her leg. Set to work wrapping each noticeable injury with the gauze. Her leg, her side, her shoulder. Her arms. There were burns she didn’t know how to deal with, but didn’t think she could, anyway. Wiped up the rest of the blood and water with the towel before she laid the old jacket over her bare top, and wrapped the blankets around her legs, tucking her in. Brushed her hair out of her face and put one more blanket on top to keep her warm. She was too tired to clean up the mess.

She had to clean herself up still. She stumbled back into the bathroom with some of the gauze and towel and washed mud and grime from her face, picking out pieces of twigs and rocks and other things. It sat in the sink drain. She wished there was running water, but sticking out the towel into the pouring rain worked well enough. She lifted her wet shirt off and winced, remembering the stitches in her side for the first time that entire day. They were torn. Slowly, she wrapped the bandages around her midsection, covering it up as her hands began to tremble again. Hung up her shirt to dry, a greater tremor in her arms. Exhaustion, this time. Maybe more. She didn’t have time to look at the rest of herself

And finally, finally, when she was all done with that, she shuffled back out into the living room. At first, she sat on the chair at the old table. Her eyes wouldn’t leave Mina. Eventually, she moved over to the floor and sat down next to the couch. She lifted one of Mina’s arms gently and took her hand and laid her head next to it. “I made it,” she murmured. She passed out soon after.

[sprnklersplashes]

the midnight raven

ao3 

AN: as of now this is a one shot, but if people express interest in a bigger story about this, I’d give it a go 

janis+damian, implied beginning of romantic cady/janis. rated teen for mentions of violence.

Taking punches, kicking ass, that she can do. Letting people in? Less so.

Her back hits the window for the third time, and all she has time for is a simple “oh shit”.

The glass gives way beneath her body and she’s falling, nothing beneath her but empty space or beside her but rushing wind. When her back hits the concrete, the little air she had left escapes in one heavy puff of white smoke. She coughs heavily, her whole chest rattling with the effort, and feels something wet splatter on her lips, followed by a metallic tang on her tongue. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and doesn’t even need to look, only be grateful that she chose black all that time ago for this very purpose.

That’s just what she needs.

She rolls over onto her side, only for every muscle in her body to protest, rather loudly. Somewhere in her dazed mind, she realises that must’ve been quite the fall, for her to feel like this. She also realises that it’s possible she might have a concussion. She’ll add that to the list of things she has to work with after tonight. Her arm screams out in pain as she attempts to push herself up, twice buckling under her weight before she can stand. Her legs are only slightly better, though still not as steady as she’d like them to be. She coughs heavily, wincing at the strain on her sore body, and heaves up another mouthful of blood onto the pavement. It glistens sickeningly in the faint glow of the nearby streetlamp, almost like it’s mocking her. Somehow, Damian’s words echo in her mind-you’re extremely durable, not indestructible, Janis-and they feel particularly potent now. Carefully, she presses two fingers against her chest, moving them slowly and steadily until she finds the worst spots, which she does with hissed breath and gritted teeth.

At least four broken ribs, and it’s not even midnight yet. That’s got to be a record. 

The hair on the back of her neck stands up, a prickle of cold sweat running down her back, and she turns around just in time for yellow light to blind her for a second before fading. The backdoor swings open, and at first it appears a living shadow steps through. Until her eyes adjust, and she sees it’s just a man. The same man who just drop-kicked her through the window, now looking at her with equal parts confusion and anger. Judging by that expression, the gun in his hand is merely a precaution. It normally is when it comes to this. After a 100 feet fall, a bullet to the head would just speed up the inevitable for anyone else.

“So it’s true,” he tells her, and his mouth curves into a grin. His voice is smooth, a little too smooth, like it’s been ironed out, lest he give anything away. There’s only the faintest hint of an English accent left. It’s no doubt a learned trick, and he does it well, even though he can’t quite manage to disguise the slight fascination in it. She can’t say she blames him. “You cannot die.”

“No I can,” she tells him. “I just choose not to. I find it a little inconvenient and I have plans next week.” She straightens up, despite the ache in her spine, and squares her shoulders, her bloody chin raised at him. “So, are we doing this the easy way or the hard way? Because trust me, I think you’d prefer the easy way.”

She hears the cocking of a gun, the sight disguised by the shadows, and for a moment, she tenses. Janis has tested herself a lot, done all sorts of crazy shit just to see if she could, but a gunshot has been the one boundary she’s not dared to cross yet. She doesn’t feel like crossing it tonight either.

“Hard way then,” she sighs and she raises her fists. 

Shots ring out and her brain instantly tells her where to go, ducking and dodging the raining bullets as quickly as he can fire them. Every cell in her body feels like it’s buzzing, her nerves anticipating his moves before he can make them. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches the end of the alleyway, where the dark criminal underworld meets the city streets. Not a lot out this time of night, in this part of town, but that doesn’t mean no-one. Anyone could hear this, from a well-meaning citizen to a curious drunkard, and the last thing she needs is someone who shouldn’t be here. Keeping herself safe is hard enough, even with her added protections.

“Well that was a nice little show,” she calls out as she backs away, further into the shadowy corners of the back alley. “Want to go get some more bullets and try again? I don’t mind waiting, honestly.”

“You know I’ve heard all about you,” he tells her, and his voice follows her. She sighs in relief, only because she knows he can’t see her. “The great protector of this city. The champion of the underdog, so they say. Some call you an angel, sure you are sent from above. Others are not so sure. There are some in this city who believe your origin is far less noble.”

“If I wanted to know my reputation, I’d check Twitter,” she tells him. “Is that all you’ve got? That some people don’t like me.” She keeps walking, her hand stretched out behind her, feeling for a back wall. Nothing so far, but it’s close. “Because frankly, I don’t even like myself, so it’s not a burn.”

“No, no, not that,” he tells her. “I was going to tell you that despite everything people have said about you, they have all failed to mention how god damned irritating you are.”

The voice is closer now, and when he lunges at her, it’s with a frustrated snarl. She blocks it with a kick to his stomach, a punch to his jaw. He swings at her and she ducks, hooks her leg around his to topple him to the ground. It’s one of the first moves she learned, and one of her best. Unfortunately, it’s also one of her signature moves and people have come to know it. To expect it. The guy grabs her by the back of her shirt and pulls her to her feet, his grip not once loosening despite her hardest kicks, to his legs, his stomach, to the place the sun doesn’t shine. Up close, under the dull porch light, she can see the fury in his eyes, making him look more animal than human, and he doesn’t once let up. Instead, there’s the coolness of a blade against her cheek, and she stills. She’s no stranger to knife fights, and nine times out of ten they amount to papercuts, but this guy did his homework. The blade is jagged, long, and capable of far more than a mere pocket knife.

Time to be smart, she tells herself.

“Who do you work for?” he whispers. “The police in this town don’t like you, so it can’t be them. The FBI? The Bureau, is that who it is?”

“I don’t work for anyone,” she tells him. “With them, occasionally, not for them.” His grip on her top tightens and a strangled cry escapes her lips. The blade presses closer, and further down this time, against her side, and she realises. He means to torture whatever information he wants out of her.

Good fucking luck, buddy, is all she can think.

“Okay, so you don’t want to talk about that,” he breathes. His voice shakes slightly, like a taut string being plucked at. “Fine, I don’t need to know.” Behind him, Janis notices a metal stairwell, probably a fire escape. Too dark for him to see, but that’s what she’s here for, and she swallows her smile. At least, until the knife pushes through her shirt and she feels blood running down over her skin, down along her abdomen and into her leg. And with it comes dull, throbbing pain, and she bites back the cry. “What I do need to know is where you sent my cargo.”

“You mean the kids?” she spits back, and he presses the knife harder. She almost feels something, almost. She shakes her head and allows the smirk to form on her lips, unable to resist the satisfaction. “Like I'm telling you. They’re free, and you can run and tell your boss that.”

“No.” His voice is deep, throaty, almost a growl and certainly not intentional. She wonders if she should enjoy this, watching a man like him come undone. Damian would say she shouldn’t, but that’s the good part of not having Damian here. Even when he pushes the knife further into her, and the sharp pain flares up, she doesn’t drop it. “You will tell me. You will. Or-”

“Or you’ll what? Kill me?” She shakes her head, despite the way her mouth runs dry at the motion, bile creeping up and stinging the back of her throat. “No, you won’t. You can’t kill me when I know what you want to know. And I’ll go through anything before I tell you where those kids are.” She grins, and knows he can see the blood on her teeth. “So you can suck it, asshole.” She coughs again, but does him the courtesy of avoiding his face. “Now I am willing to offer you a deal here.”

“What kind of deal can you possibly offer me?”

“You tell me where your base of operations is, and I don’t call the cops on your bitch ass,” she tells him. “That seems like a more than fair deal, don’t you think? I get what I need and you get to go home.” His face hardens at her offer, and his hand moves from her shoulder to her throat, pressing down until her gasps are strained and thin. “Okay so I’ll take that as a no?”

“You can take that as a go to hell,” he tells her. For a second, something flickers behind his eyes, something beyond the cold, calculated mask she’s fought with all night. A forced reminder that the monsters she fights with aren’t entirely monsters, and it threatens to drag up that stupid empathy she sometimes has. “You know what Hayden would do to me if I told anyone about him?”

“So it’s a definite no, then?” she asks. He only glares, and that’s all she needs. She’s grown bored of pleading with them, trying to gently coax them to the light. She’s done with offering them deals none of them want to take. She only ever did it for Damian’s sake in the first place and since none of them want the light, it’s far more efficient this way. “Okey dokey.”

Her knee hits his stomach and his hand jerks from her throat. Once she’s free from that it’s a simple one-two to his stomach and kick to his chest to disorient him. And as he stumbles backwards, she aims her wide swing right to his temple, and his eyes widen just before she makes the blow.

It only takes one punch, and next thing she’s handcuffing him to the fire escape. She did consider letting him dangle there, because honestly he deserves to, but she opts for letting him sit crumpled against the wall, cuffed arm raised up high. She scribbles down the location, straining her eyes to make out the name on the street sign, and that’s her done. All in a day’s work, and now she can clock-out, as it were. 

Right after she gets this to the nearest cop. 

With the paper safely folded into her pants pocket, she begins making her way there. The map of the city is almost perfectly clear in her mind-she can attribute both her enhanced memory and many nights of studying it to that-and if she’s right the nearest cop lives only three streets from here. Well, that’s not entirely true. The nearest one actually lives in the next street over, but he’s a dick and so even with her fun array of injuries, she’s willing to take the long way round just to not give him the satisfaction of her visit. Besides, she’s fine, really.

Completely fine.

Her feet hit the ground on the other side of the wall, silent but not steady. She actually comes close to hitting the ground again, stretching out her hand just in the nick of time. Dimly, she realises she’s normally better than that, but her instincts feel muted right now. Like a picture drawn with a blunt pencil. She keeps her body low as she makes her way through the streets, not wanting to find out what might happen if she attempts to stand up any further than she already is. Best case scenario, vomit on the sidewalk and the nice citizens of Chicago could do without that. She keeps her head ducked too; the normally-faint streetlights suddenly exceedingly bright tonight, glaring down intensely at her. Or maybe that’s just her. Didn’t she suspect something about a head trauma a minute ago? She’s fairly certain she did.

She’s made it to the bottom of Cop Dickhead’s street before she realises she’s probably not getting any further than this. She pauses for a moment, one hand on her knee, her chest heaving. She’s still in the darkness; she’s learned where the safest shadows of this city are, mapped out routes for her to sneak back home undetected. Except now she’s accepting that she likely isn’t making it home, not in this state, and instead might have to settle for one of their safe spots; the abandoned phone booths all over the city. Just call her Superman. But instead of changing, she can patch herself up there, as long as Damian can grab what she needs. She should be reaching for her phone, but that can wait, she guesses. She needs… What does she need? Painkillers, definitely. Water, that would be good. And bandages, some for her face, some for her arm. A voice whispers needle and thread but she shakes her head, wondering why she’d need those. She’d only need those for stitches, and she’d only need stitches if-

Oh right. She was stabbed. She glances down at herself, barely making out her hand pressed against her side. Her gaze is blurred and unfocussed, and growing steadily darker the longer she looks at it. Slowly, and with monumental effort, she lifts her hand up to her face, and watches it tremble, the glove stiff and cold.

I should probably sort that out, she thinks, and perhaps says out loud. Then she hits the ground and the last thing she feels is the soft breath escaping her mouth.

                                                                             ******

The warmth is the first thing she registers when she wakes up. If you can call it “waking up”. More a slow, gradual, ‘waking up and falling back asleep and then waking up and then vibing in this little grey area for god knows how long’. And given the crap she just put her body through, she’s more than happy to rest while she can. But when her senses do catch up with her mind and drag her further away from sleep, the first thing she registers is warmth. It’s nice, and it holds her in sleep-or whatever this is- a little longer.

Slowly, she begins becoming aware of everything else, even with her eyes closed. The pillow beneath her head, the slightly scratchy wool of the blanket over her, the slight angle her body sits on as she rests on the couch, her feet just touching the edge and-

Wait. No.

Her eyes fly open, her body bolting upright. Her hands tremble this time not from pain or overuse, and her eyes fly everywhere. Her already-heightened senses work overtime, taking in each and every detail, and she falls further into anxiety with each one. She tosses the blanket off her, recoiling from it like it’s alive. Everything is so, so unfamiliar to her-from the green patterned wallpaper to the cluttered coffee table to the couch she’s sitting on. Even the sounds aren’t right; no coffee being brewed in the kitchen, a clock that ticks too loudly and too quickly, cars outside moving far too fast. It slams into her one after the other-wrong, wrong, wrong-and she immediately starts looking for an escape route. One window, she notes. First floor. Easy. Another door, leading into a hall. She likes it less for a few reasons, but it’s there.

“You’re awake.”

She stifles a gasp and turns slowly at the voice, her neck twinging as she does so. They didn’t sound malicious, or gloating, but she knows not to take anything for granted. She starts looking around the room, this time for a weapon, only to realise the weight still around her waist-baton is still in her belt, along with her nunchucks and back-up handcuffs. 

If she has been captured, they aren’t very good at it.

When she finds whoever it is, she finds herself startled by what she sees. First off at how young they are-her age, or thereabouts-and secondly, everything else. Her companion is clad in a yellow plaid shirt and khakis, their light brown hair is held back in a loose braid. Blue eyes peer at her over a striped ceramic bowl, a faint scattering of freckles across their nose. They might as well have “non-threatening” written on their forehead, and for a second she almost relaxes. Almost. Instead her hand rests on her baton, hand poised to grab it.

“You brought me here,” she states. 

“Mm-hm.” The stranger takes a step forward and Janis backs up, her hand slightly outstretched. A small look of hurt passes across their face, but they take the message and stay where they are, their eyes never leaving her. “I found you passed out on the sidewalk. You were-are-pretty badly banged up. And I didn’t know what to do, so I took you here.”

“You took me here,” she repeats. “Where is here?” Normally she tries to keep up her persona in front of civilians, in the rare moments she interacts with them, but for now her brain is so frazzled she’s glad she can speak at all. 

“Oh, uh, one second.” The stranger darts around to the coffee table, respecting Janis’ request for distance at the same time. They go around in a complete circle before reaching it and lifting a letter off the table, reading from the top corner. “54 Aldergrove Way.”

Aldergrove Way. So she’s just the next street over from where she was. Even closer to where she was headed. Well, that works out, if she isn’t about to be tortured and then dumped in the sewers. 

“You want some cereal?” 

“What?” Her new companion-or whatever they are-simply shrugs, a small smile on their face, and nods at the bowl. So she didn’t mishear them. It would almost be better if she were being tortured, she thinks. At least she has a plan for that.

“Thought you might want to eat something,” they explain simply, as if they’re old friends coming in after a night out. The suggestion, the way it’s delivered, it’s all so bizarre that Janis can only mumble a ‘no thanks’ in response, image be damned.

“Suit yourself,” they mumble with a shrug. “I’m Cady by the way. Cady Heron.” Janis nods, the muscles in her neck twinging in protest. Like she said, it must’ve been quite the fall. She looks over at Cady, her eyes quickly flitting over her. With every second, the theory that she’s been captured looks less and less likely. Even disregarding the fact that they’re obviously in a well-lit, residential street-hardly ideal for a criminal underworld, Cady gives off the vibe that she wouldn’t even pirate a movie, let alone anything else. She doesn’t relax though, because she can’t.

“I don’t know how many times you’ve taken a stranger off the street, but for future reference maybe don’t tell them your first and last name,” she explains. Cady nods again, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“I’ll make a note of that.” She twirls the spoon about in her cereal, her lips pursed as she fills the silence between them with small, nonsensical sounds. Their eyes don’t leave Janis though, and they hold a thousand and one questions and frankly, Janis can’t blame them. “So you got hurt pretty badly.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles in reply. Her hand travels down her body, checking out the damage now that she has the time. “How long was I out for?”

“Oh, um, about twenty five minutes? Half an hour, maybe.” They scratch the back of their neck and Janis tries not to smile. “I think I got there just after you passed out.”

“What were you even doing back there?” she asks. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to be out there alone?”

“You were there,” they point out. “I went to buy some milk. And I wasn’t alone. One of the neighbours was with me, but she wanted to call 911. I told her I’d take care of you and that I’d call an ambulance from here.” Janis opens her mouth, but her whole rant must already be on her face because Cady smiles, a gentle chuckle escaping them, and shakes their head. “I haven’t called anyone yet. I wasn’t sure if I should. I was going to call my parents-they’re at some overnight conference thing at the university, but they’d probably freak out. And then call the cops.”

Hm. They’re smarter than they look. Janis simply nods at her before swinging her legs around the front of the couch, her lips clamped shut to conceal the worst of the damage. Still, that half hour nap must have done some good, because she can already feel her body restoring itself. Moving is still a pain, but not as much as it was before and some of the aches have already faded to background noise. Her ribs are still fucked, but they won’t take long to get back. Same with her back. The head she’ll have to think about, but she guesses it wasn’t so bad or it’s already started healing itself. Gingerly, she lifts up her shirt, cautious of Cady’s presence, and feels around her abdomen, only for her fingers to hit a strip of gauze. Her head snaps up, eyes wide, and Cady only shrugs.

“You were bleeding,” they say matter-of-factly, with the unsaid tone of ‘what else was I going to do?’. Janis stutters for a minute, and blood rushes to their cheeks as they think of Cady bandaging her bare stomach, her unconscious and none the wiser.

“You know how to fix a stab wound?” she asks.

“Yeah. I uh… I learned a lot of survival skills where I used to live,” they explain. “Including how to give stitches. Luckily I had my med pack on hand. If you want, I can show you my certificate.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she tells her. The smile spreads across her face before she can stop it and all she can do is duck her head and hope Cady doesn’t notice. Bad for the public image and whatnot. Can’t have the people of her city knowing that their silent, stoic protector has a soft side, or one that can be easily reached at that. Most of them think she doesn’t feel anything and it works better for all of them if it stays that way.

The smile fades but doesn’t disappear as she reaches up and pushes her blood-coated hair away from her face, her fingers checking for other cuts or scrapes. She comes across a callous bruise beneath her fingers, as well as a fair amount of scrapes, but decides not to fret on it. They’ll be gone by tomorrow. But then she realises there’s nothing between her hand and her face; the scrap of fabric she’s become so accustomed to is gone, and that panic from before sparks up in her like a flare.

“My mask,” she gasps, this time springing to her feet. She looks over at Cady, either accusing her or sharing her panic, she doesn’t even know. “I don’t have my mask.”

“Here, here, I do.” Cady bends down and grabs it from its spot, half-hidden beneath the brochures and letters on the coffee table. She holds it out in front of her, and Janis doesn’t miss the fearful spark in her eye. Some small, asshole part of her thinks good, you should be scared. Another part wants to hold her hand and tell her it’s okay. She doesn’t give into either though. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it. I just wanted to see if your face needed anything.” Janis takes her mask and Cady steps back. “I saw the bruises. Wanted to see if it was any worse. I have ice packs in the freezer if you-”

“You took my mask off,” Janis says again. “You’ve seen my face.”

“Yes.”

Janis turns away from her and hurriedly ties the mask back on. It’s a neat little design on her part-a clasp hidden beneath a thick ribbon to reduce the chances of it falling off. Not a lot of good it did now, though, if Cady was able to get it off her. The mask has a purpose, to separate her two lives. To minimise the damage she causes. It’s the part she fights hardest to protect, but clearly she’s not fighting hard enough.

“So you know who I am.”

“No,” Cady replies. “I have literally never seen you before, ever. In my life.” She hears Cady shrugging behind her, and for a moment rolls her eyes at herself. Of course she doesn’t know her. Several people in this city don’t know her. “I just moved here. Yesterday.” Regardless, Cady’s seen her face now, there’s no going back from that.

“I’ve heard of you though.”

“What?” Janis turns then, more comfortable beneath the mask, and finds Cady half sitting on the arm of the couch, drumming her nails on her bowl. She still looks casual on the outside, as though they’re far more friendly than they actually are, but there’s a tension in her shoulders that betrays her.

“When we were moving in yesterday, I saw the murals. And people, the neighbours, they told us stuff,” she explains in a low voice. “A masked vigilante who walks the streets. Keeps watch over the city. Does the cop’s job for them.” Janis chuckles at that, half-proud of herself. “I almost didn’t believe them. Maybe I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t seen the murals. But here you are.” They gesture at Janis. “The Midnight Raven.”

“Oh shush,” she sighs. “Honestly it’s such a pretentious nickname. I’d have been fine with the Raven even, but everyone needs a gimmick apparently.” Cady laughs as Janis folds her arms, and she can’t not notice how nice her laugh is. Like sunny summer afternoons and strawberry ice cream and green grass, that kind of nice. So nice that Janis finds herself smiling back.

“You should complain,” Cady tells her. “Write into the papers, tell them you don’t like it.”

“Because that will do wonders for my public image,” she sighs as she falls back onto the couch. The levity doesn’t last, and she’s forced to look at the situation head-on. Cady looks out of the corner of their eye at her, a slightly curious look about them.

“If it’s anything, not everyone thinks you’re a monster,” they say softly. “The girls across the street, for instance, they think you’re amazing.” Janis hums in acknowledgment, but their words quickly fade away. Her public image is the last thing she’s concerned about right now. Cady’s safety on the other hand, well that’s all she can think about. There’s a reason her secret is so closely-guarded and it’s very little to do with her.

“Cady, I need you to listen to me.” Cady turns to her, the last traces of composure draining from their face. Severity is a strange look on a face like hers, and Janis feels bad for putting it there. She doesn’t belong in this, with her. But she was too kind-hearted not to be. “Cady, think. Did anyone see you with me? Anyone at all?”

“No.” They shake their head. “No, the street was empty. I mean, my neighbour helped me carry you, but that was it. They didn’t come inside.” Janis nods, her teeth grit. Just their neighbours. But they just moved here. They don’t know who to trust. 

“This is important,” she tells them. “If… if someone comes and asks if you’ve seen or heard anything suspicious, maybe something relating to a violent crime, deny it. You never saw anything. You were in here watching TV or whatever it is you do. You’ve never even seen me before, is that clear? You can’t tell anyone about this.”

“Anyone?”

“Anyone.” 

Cady swallows thickly, their eyes widening like they’re only just realising the weight of what they’ve gotten into. They look so lost, even in their own home, and Janis relates, a little. Relates to that feeling of being thrust into a new world and new rules and not knowing where to turn. The feeling of carrying so much and being unable to share the load.

So against her better judgement, she pulls her glove off and places her calloused hand over Cady’s soft one.

“Thank you, Cady,” she says. “You didn’t have to do what you did for me.”

“Yeah, I did,” they reply, a faint smile playing on their lips. “It’s the least anyone can do for you, right?”

Something stirs in Janis’ chest then, something alien but not unfamiliar. And not unwelcome either. Cady looks at her through their lashes and Janis finds herself wishing they had met somewhere else. Somewhere normal. Because despite the circumstances, she likes them. They might only have had this time together, but she can tell the kind of person Cady is. And she doesn’t need any superpowers for it.

The tinny ringing of her cellphone fills the room, the device humming against her hip, and she curses under her breath. Cady squeaks and backs up from her as she takes the phone out, even averting their eyes to give her privacy.

“Damian,” she breathes. 

“You answered,” is all he says. She rolls her eyes, but she knows the meaning behind it. They started this a while ago, a way of keeping him sane. Five missed calls from him and she’s probably in serious danger or worse. The nightmare scenario. What exactly he’d do if she missed five calls, she doesn’t know. All she can do is make damn sure he never has to do anything. And her answering on the first call is a rare sight indeed, and the relief in his voice shows it.

“Yeah, I did.”

“So you’re okay?”

“I’m…” Her voice trails off, and her gaze moves involuntarily towards Cady. Who knows what would have become of her if not for them? She doesn’t believe she would have died, but there are endless possibilities besides that. She still winces every time she breathes too quickly, and the stab wound in her side is making its presence known. “I’ll be okay. I’m out. It’s over. I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay,” he breathes. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Only if you go the hell to sleep,” is her reply, and he chuckles on the other end. Damian might not come out on patrols or missions with her, but his word was true when he said they were in it together. If she’s up then he’s up, despite her best efforts to keep him at bay. “You’ll text?”

“I promise,” she tells him firmly. “Fifteen minutes, tops.”

“Holding you to it,” he replies before he hangs up. She lets the dial tone ring in her ear for a few seconds before she cuts it off and holds the phone close to her chest instead. Despite Cady’s turned back, and the almost-ease she’s beginning to feel here, she can’t help feeling she’s violated Damian here. Whatever she feels about Cady, Damian has never met them. And even if Cady isn’t on the “bad side”, she could still slip up. A tiny detail is all a person like Hayden might need to get to her.

“I should go,” she says over her shoulder. “I need to get home.”

“Didn’t think superheroes had homes,” Cady replies, swinging off the couch. Janis chuckles drly as she turns and she finds herself face to face with Cady and those big, round eyes of theirs, the unwillingness to let her leave evident in them. Her chest hurts, not from the fall, and she quickly realises why. She’s seen that expression on Damian before. That shouldn’t freak her out like it does.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” they ask. “Out there, I mean. What if you pass out again?”

“I won’t.” She tugs on her gloves and checks her belt again. “I hardly ever pass out. This was the exception.” Cady nods, but the concern doesn’t quite leave her eyes. Janis swallows a laugh. Maybe if Cady knew all she was capable of she’d be less reluctant to see her go. “Trust me. I’ll be fine. And if I’m not-” Her voice catches there, unsure of where her words were headed. I know where to find you feels the most natural course, but she doesn’t like it. It’s too close to I’ll see you again and she’d prefer to not see Cady after tonight.  “You know.”

“I do.”

Cady shows her to the bathroom window after she asks if there’s another way out. From there it’s only a short hop to the next house over, and then it’s a clear path along the streets, even with her exhausted legs.

 She thanks them again and wishes she was better at this. Like everything about this vigilante shit, talking to civilians looks far easier in the movies. They’re all so confident, so at ease in her superhero persona that they charm the cute girl with just a few short words. Janis hasn’t quite mastered that part yet and so after some awkward deliberation she leaves Cady with a pat on the arm and a “be careful”.

Cady responds “you too” just as she climbs out the window and it almost makes her lose her footing. Not that she does this to impress anyone, but she hopes Cady didn’t see that. For the public image and all.

                                                                        ******

It’s well past noon when Damian enters her room, all the delicacy of a one-man brass band. She doesn’t even open her eyes when he sits down on the bed, instead greeting him with a heavy groan that says more than words could right now. “Fuck off” is the general vibe she was going for, but with an added undertone of “why are you asking me to be awake right now”. She has no doubt he picks up on the subtext of her groans, given that he picks up on everything else about her, but he elects to ignore it and pulls open the curtains instead, letting in what he calls “god’s natural daylight”.

In her state, she’d be inclined to call it “Satan’s personal headlamp” and she pulls the blanket over her head, her free hand flipping the bird at him.

“Well good morning to you too,” he says indignantly and he sets himself down on the foot of her bed. “Do I want to know what time you went to sleep at?”

“It was early,” she tells him from her makeshift cave. “Early for me anyway.”

“Mm-hm. You may have gotten in before midnight, I have no doubt you were up to the small hours brooding.” That gets her to flip the covers off and fix him with a resentful glare, her dark hair falling in front of her face.

“I do not brood,” she tells him pointedly and he only raises an eyebrow. With a sigh, she pulls herself into a half-sit, mindful of her ribs. Damian watches her as she does so, hands poised to help, and she avoids his gaze for the time being.

He’s half-right about last night. Not that she’d call it brooding, but she couldn’t go right to sleep after she came in, despite how shattered she felt (and still feels). Her mind was too preoccupied with the fight and Hayden and everything from the past few weeks. And Cady, funnily enough.

Thankfully, Damian does know when to drop it.

“Apple or chocolate?”

“Apple please.” He tosses her a package wrapped in white paper, still warm and soft from the bakery ovens. As she’s tearing into it, a chilled bottle of orange juice lands on her lap, as does a protein bar and a banana soon after, all from the little corner store. Cheap and does the trick.

“So what’s your damage?” he asks as she eats. He takes his little Hamilton notebook out of his bag and clicks open his pen. “And do not bullshit me.”

Janis heaves a sigh, stopping short when the pain tugs at her chest.

“Couple of cracked ribs,” she explains. Damian’s expression darkens, but he nods. “Uh, I banged my head a few times, but I think it’s better. Had a pretty bad shiner last night, is it still there?”

“Not really,” he says. He shifts closer to her. “Only now that you’ve pointed it out.”

“Cool. I fell out a window too. Not fun. Cut me up quite a bit but…” She holds out her arms, which last night were covered in thin, deep cuts. Overnight most have faded to pale pink lines, only a few still red. By tomorrow, they’ll be nothing but a memory. And thankfully, she had the foresight to wash the blood off before climbing into bed. “My back’s a little screwed from that. As is my everywhere else. I’d give that a week maybe. And…” 

She holds her breath, wishing she had stopped after her back. Or that Damian was a worse friend, and wasn’t sitting hanging onto her every word, waiting for her next injury so he can try to take care of her. And then record it, make notes on how long it takes her to heal from what. Over the past year, he’s kept a record of every sprain, fracture, bruise and break she’s sustained in that book of his, as well as how quickly she recovers from each one. ‘So when it happens again, we know how long it’ll be,’ he told her. Admittedly, it was a good plan, and one that keeps him from worrying too much. But there’s nothing in there on knife wounds, which means she’s about to drop a new entry on him.

He doesn’t cope well with those.

“And I got stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” he echoes. She raises her eyebrows, her finger flying to her lips to remind him her parents are nearby. He rolls his eyes and lowers his voice, but the urgency doesn’t leave his tone. “Stabbed. Like with a knife?”

“No Damian, with a hairbrush. Yes, with a knife.”

“And it… and it hurt you?” he asks. “I thought knives couldn’t hurt you.”

“Technically they can. It would just have to be a very very good knife. In the hands of a person who is very, very good with knives.” Her free hand slips beneath her covers and rests over the bandages on her side. She hasn’t checked beneath them yet. “It’ll be fine. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“I got stitches,” she tells him. “I got myself patched up. I’m okay. I know it’s new, but I’d say give it a week and I’ll be good as new.” She looks up and is met with him blinking in surprise, his pen falling from his fingers, and it takes her a minute to catch up with him. She’ll blame that on the recent head trauma.

“You got stitches?” he says slowly.

“Yeah.”

“So… you went to the hospital?” She sighs heavily and runs a hand through her ponytail.

“No.” She could lie, of course, but she doesn’t, because a, he would know, and b, it would only delay it. So she watches as confusion spreads across Damian’s face, his mind working to fix a puzzle he only has half the pieces to, until he looks and silently asks her to fill it in. She shrugs, acting like it means nothing, and picks at a loose thread on her bed. “Someone patched me up.”

“Someone patched you up?” he says. “Who in the heck patched you up? Because there is only one person who patches you up after a fight, and I did no such thing last night.”

“I’m not cheating on you if that’s your worry,” she tells him. She shakes her head, stopping suddenly when the pain flares up. “Look, you don’t need to worry. It was a one time thing.” She shrugs and pulls harder on the thread. “And odds are I’m not going to see them again.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m going to put all my effort into avoiding them,” she says flatly. “It shouldn’t have even happened. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were never even meant to see me. Now I’m staying out of their life for good.” She clenches her fist. “It’s better that way, right?”

“If you say so,” Damian replies, although he sounds even less convinced than she does. His hand half-reaches out and then pulls back, his eyes lingering on that spot under the blanket. “Can I…”

He doesn’t need to finish. She pushes the covers back and pulls her shirt off, grunting at her stiff muscles. Damian’s eyes widen when he sees it, and his face turns two shades paler. It’s also the first time Janis has seen it properly. A thick square of white gauze and bandage covers her side, possibly more than necessary, and a small spot of red spoils the pristine whiteness. Gingerly, she starts pulling at the medical tape and peeling the bandages back, just to see. The stitches are small, neat, precise. Clearly, Cady knew what they were doing. What kind of life had they had before, she has to wonder. Hopefully more peaceful than hers is.

“And you think a week?” Damian asks.

“Yeah,” she whispers. She presses her hand against the wound and closes her eyes. She’s only done this once or twice, and she’s still not sure if it actually works or it’s just her imagination. But she swears she can feel it, feel her body fixing itself from the inside out. “Maybe a little bit more. If it’s not done by then, we get it checked out.” She carefully replaced the bandage. “I’ll think of an excuse.”

Damian gives a soft chuckle, and Janis slowly lowers her shirt. At least a week until she recovers from everything. Far less than most people get with stuff like this, she knows, but the days still stretch out before her. And that’s with pretending to be normal on top of it, going about her Janis-life like nothing happened. And assuming-hoping-the Midnight Raven isn’t needed for that time.

Sometimes she wonders if she’ll ever really get a break, or if this is her now. Breaking and healing only to break again. Stuck in a cycle of her own making.

“Here.” Damian taps her arm and hands her over the pastry before opening the orange juice for her. She rolls her eyes at him, not needing to be fed like this, but he only grins. “Enjoy it, bitch. For the next week, this treatment is what you’re getting. Now eat up and I’ll find you some clothes.” He presses a quick kiss to her head before moving over to her closet.

Still, at least she’s got Damian.

                                                                          ******

Her weekend is dedicated to getting her body back to where it needs to be. Which mainly involves a lot of lying around and staying hydrated while her body does the work. It also involves a fair amount of talking around her parents. Over the past four years, she’s become pretty adept at that and she adds that to the list of things that scare her.

She didn’t plan on telling them at first. Because she’d learned from the only sources she had-movies and TV shows- that the hero keeps their antics a secret from their parents. For their own safety and reasons she understood to varying degrees. They’d never understand, they’d put a stop to it, they’d mess it up… somehow. She wasn’t comfortable with it, not at all, but it was what superheroes did, apparently. So that’s what she did… for a week. It all came to a head very quickly, and her close relationship with them came back to bite her. So she took them to the garage and let them watch as she lifted the front of her father’s car with ease. She wasn’t letting them in all the way, she’s not that crazy, but she leaves the door open for them.

She told them enough to keep them in the know. Her parents know what she can do and that she can handle more than she should. They know sometimes they shouldn’t check her bedroom at night and not to ask when she comes downstairs with a black eye. And they support her, even if they don’t know everything. Her mom gives her herbal tea and her dad makes her grandma’s famous cure-all soup and they don’t question why she alternates between her bed and the couch all weekend or how bruises disappear from her face overnight. And in return, Janis shakes her head at all the characters on her screen, wishing she could yell at them to just tell them, it’ll be fine, trust her.

By the time she heads into school on Monday, she already feels halfway there. Like she predicted, the cuts on her arms are gone, and her head feels perfectly fine. Her side and her ribs still bother her, sure, but she knows how to take care of herself at school. Appearing normal is second nature to her now, and she could slip into the less dangerous, but equally difficult world of high school as just Janis, and no-one would be wiser.

Even now she sits at her desk, doodling mermaids in the margins of her notebook and laughing with Damian about his plans for drama class-which involve using his adopted ensemble of freshmen-and the events of Friday night seem a world away.

Ms Norbury claps her hands to signal the start of class (the “shut up” signal as Janis dubbed it last year) just as Janis is leaning forward to flick Damian with her pencil for a rather saucy comment. She sits down in her seat, chewing her pencil and giving Damian a look that says ‘I will get you later for that’ while the rest of the class settles down. She takes a swig of water, her ribs just slightly troubling her and sits forward, adding a few more details to her mermaid doodles. The door opens and out of the corner of her eye she notices Mr Duvall’s shoes.

“May I have your attention please,” he asks. “I’d like to introduce a new student to your class. Her name is Caddy Heron.”

“Actually, it’s Cady.”

Shit.

Her pencil falls from her hand, her fingers turning cold. It rolls off her desk and clatters on the tiled floor, the tiny sound drowned out by Janis’ heartbeat and that voice, that name echoing around her mind. She lifts her head slowly and turns it in their direction, hoping against all hope that this is a mistake, that her near-perfect ears misheard, that it was just a daydream mixing with reality. She’d take anything, but instead gets nothing. Because standing up at the front of the room, just as she remembers them, is Cady. Caramel coloured hair, falling loose past their shoulders this time, in a blue flannel instead of a yellow one. But the same person who patched her up, and she swore she was avoiding at all costs, is standing at the front of her freaking homeroom and this goes beyond fate mocking her. From now on, she’s calling Fate a grade-A bitch and not caring what it does to her in return. 

Cady’s eyes scan the room, all bright and alert and adding to that ‘excited puppy’ vibe she has going on. That is, until they land on Janis. They blink for a second, like a deer caught in headlights, and then their mouth opens and closes wordlessly. Janis gives them a small wave, unsure of what the hell else to do here, especially since she’s kind of busy falling down a spiral herself. Cady waves back, the gesture even smaller than Janis’ was. Damian turns around, a silent question in his eyes, and she only nods. The last thing she sees is the panicked confusion taking over Damian’s face before she buries her face in her hands.

This teenage vigilante thing just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

[missinghan]

dandelion ⤖ hwang hyunjin

❖ genre : strangers to lovers!au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 12,2k.

❖ warning : explicit language 

❖ summary : it’s funny how you’ve been second-guessing every single thing in life to the T but the only thing you didn’t just happens to be running after a total stranger named Hwang Hyunjin.

one.

“And that, my friend, is the end of the chapter. See, that wasn’t so hard, you just need to pay more attention to the details.” Minho shuts his textbook closed and grins at you from your laptop screen. 

Your typical Monday starts with online school and ends with Lee Minho since your non-existent brain cells furiously agree to comprehend zero ounce of what your teacher rambled about accounting. Being the sly snake that he is, Minho ‘kindly’ offered you a weekly tutor session with him. Kindly, that is. And you simply cannot see that specific word in his less than appropriate vocabulary when all he did for the past ninety minutes was repeating the same damn things that your teacher did last week. 

You groan rather quietly. “How am I supposed to pay more attention to them when they’re so fucking small ?” And you don’t even have to think twice to see that smug smile appearing on your friend’s face. 

One that pops up whenever he’s clinging onto Han Jisung’s back like the sloth that he is, one that also occurs when he’s mentally prepare himself to clapping back at you with the most obnoxious yet witty comment that’s gonna make you wanna jump through the laptop screen and strangle him until he begs you to stop.

“Well, aren’t you being unreasonable ?” Minho tuts. “In fact, the smallest details are by far the most important.” You can’t help but scowl when he’s talking all calmly in his wisdom glory as if he’s Sherlock Holmes and you’re John Waston, running after him from one place to another as he keeps lecturing you and acting all mysterious with his stupid deerstalker. 

As if he’s asking you to examine a dead body with grand conclusions and spits at you afterwards “Nice one John, you missed every single essential detail that’d give us a lead, again.” A stark contrast compared to when he’s yelling and running around spontaneously. Tsk, so unnecessary. 

You feel a rush of air rising up in your rib cage as you cough harshly into the sleeves of your shirt. “Alright— smartie pants, how about you— go find Han and just make— out on Changbin’s expensive leather couch, yeah ?” You say between coughs, hand reaching for the oxygen tubes that’s carelessly thrown on the side of your bed. 

The boys always come over to Changbin’s place for a movie night every Monday. You believe that they’re planning on seeing the sequel of ‘Jumanji’ to switch it up instead of watching Woojin’s sappy dramas. How fitting. 

Minho pouts. “Come on sour patch, don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to point out how much of a dumbass you are.” And it’s no doubt that those words of his are dripping with sarcasm and fake empathy. He’s too predictable at this point. 

Normal people would have freaked out to see their friend choking on air like this but it’s been countless times since Minho saw you hacking up lungs and had people yelling at him “Why the fuck are you just standing there ? She’s dying !” But truthfully, you do that all the time and he just doesn’t want to waste a single chance to at least make fun of you.

You sneer at him. “Hold your fucking tongue, you hypocrite.” As you put on the oxygen tubes and loop them around the rim of your ears, you breath adjusts itself slowly and steadily until you don’t sound like a drowning donkey again. 

“Whatever Y/N, I hope you don’t fail Park’s accounting class because that’d ruin my reputation.” Minho rolls his eyes dramatically as if the scene he’s just caused wasn’t dramatic enough in the first place. “Do you have the slightest idea of what I was trying to teach you for the past hour and a half ?” He asks semi-seriously because no matter how passionate he is about pestering you, you failing a subject because of him is the last thing he wants to go home with on his conscience. 

“Nope.” You beam. 

Minho closes his eyes and takes in a sharp breath. He’s trying so hard not to scream out loud right now, such an amusing sight. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” He repeats after himself, sounding more like he’s trying to prevent himself from exploding rather than comforting you about your stupidity. “We can just start over, I’ll just make a quick summary and you try to do the assignments by yourself after this, okay ?” 

“Fine.” 

And as Minho starts blabbering about the mere basics of accounting, the door swings open to reveal Jackson - your nurse - who’s pushing a cart full of medications inside your room, the wheels screeching against the tiled floor. “Having fun with maths again, I see.” Jackson comments with a mischievous smile. 

“Hey Jackson !” Minho inquires innocently. They both used to share a room when Jackson was still in college. Not to mention, he was good friends with 3racha and made dope music for Minho’s auditions. So you can say that Minho’s technically allowed to fanboy a little over your nurse. “You best believe that Y/N has been doing the most to comprehend what I was saying since she just appreciates me so much.” 

Jackson cackles loudly, too loudly for the sake of being in a hospital. He’s lucky that they spent a good amount of cold, hard cash to make the walls soundproof. “Just bear with her until freshman year is over. Don’t pick on the sick kid, that’s not very nice.” And now all you want to do is to put both of their heads on a stick because you know that having both Jackson Wang and Lee Minho in the same conversation is equivalent to the definition of ‘oneself against the world’. Because Jackson too, acts like an old bitchy cat and loves to laugh his ass off at your impending misery. 

You grit. “Square the fuck up.” But the scowl on your face soon fades as your nurse reaches his hand outwards underneath the blue fabric that has the whole cart covered and pulls out a brown paper bag. Now, it’s Jackson’s turn to give you a dirty look when you gratefully take the McDonal’s order from his hand like a three-year-old. “You peasants can live for the time being.” 

“You’re lucky that your body needs 3000 calories per day or else Jaebum will fire me for feeding you junk food so often.” He informs you rather sarcastically as he scatters your description medications across the table where you’d chose to put your collection of stuffed animals instead of other necessities like textbooks or plastic binders. “I didn’t sign up for this FYI, ugh, I need money to pay off student’s loan too you know ?”

And that’s another perfect example of one hundred and one reasons why you’re not pumped for college like other kids. First off, what do you mean if someone’s privileged then they get to turn the assignment in later than everyone else ? And secondly, how the fuck can a graduate pay off their loans when they’re struggling like a fish out of water to find a decent job ? Not to mention, college dramas are the absolute worst. Things won’t be as lighthearted as highschool when students are entering bars with fake IDs and do drugs to get their minds off things that are stressing them out, which is almost everything. 

In conclusion, college is just more of a shithole than highschool so you don’t really get the hype about it. 

“You’ll be fine, Wang, stop being so whiny.” You snicker and drop a french fire into your mouth before chewing obnoxiously. “Have fun with your night shift.” You wave him off as he glares at you while pushing the cart outside. The moment Jackson swings the door open again, you can see a figure passing by but this one in particular catches your attention. And surprisingly, it’s a boy because it’s been ages since you have some kind of interest in guys, non-platonically of course. 

Not to be one of those creepy people, but you’d admit it, he’s quite the looker. Defined nose, full lips and cute mono lids, the air tossing his black mullet like how every protagonist makes their entrance into the movie. But he also has oxygen tubes put on just like you, perhaps you’re in the same boat ? Either way, that’s not the point because while pretty boy’s out there looking like a runway model in sweatpants, you’re nothing more than a couch potato because you’ve been doing nothing other than staying in bed all day. 

Good gracious he’s cute. 

“And that is how you can work on simple balance sheets.” Your friend closes in but frowns at your lack of attention. The door finally closes with a soft ‘click’, hurrying you back to reality to find a not-so-happy looking Minho. “Y/N, would you be a sweetheart and tell me that you didn’t miss a single detail during the last five minutes ?” His smile is rather stiff because his facial muscles are struggling hard not to burst as anger slowly bottles up inside of his chest captivity. For fuck’s sake, he hates it when you don’t listen on purpose. 

You cock your head to the side dumbfoundedly. “Wait— everything makes no sense.” 

Minho sighs in desperation. “Oh... what if you were smarter ?” 

two.

“Kkami !” Someone exclaims from behind you. 

You stop in the middle of your track and take out a side of your earbuds. The footsteps are getting louder and louder by the second along with the male voice. “Excuse me- pardon- Kkami I swear to God !” You decide to take a full ten seconds to comprehend what’s happening before turning around. The next thing you know is your head comes in contact with something hard, causing you to stagger backwards and land on your bottom. 

“Ugh, my head.” You wince at the aching feeling on your back as your pupils slowly dilate and adjust your vision on the current surroundings. The moment you lay your eyes on the figure in front of you, your mouth automatically lets out a silent scream. A cute boy just bumped into you, but then again, you wouldn’t overreact if he’s just any other cute boy. But he’s that cute boy who managed to distract you from Minho, who got your attention even when you just stared at him through a barely opened door. 

The boy widens his eyes when he sees what he’s caused. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” He apologizes with a smile, offering you a hand to pull you up right. “Are you okay ?”

You take his hand, almost flinching when his touch sends electricity throughout your body. His hands are much bigger than yours and are fully capable of enveloping your smaller ones with ease. You like that about him because you’ve never truly experienced what it feels like to hold someone’s hand in a non-platonic way. “Uhm, yeah, I’m okay but are you though ? You sounded like you’re going through a crisis looking for someone.” 

He smiles at you, eyes forming little crescent moon shape. “My mom brought my dog here and he accidentally ran off.” His laugh is melodic, sounding just like Mozart to your ears and you can’t help but crack a smile too. “It was nice meeting you, and I really have to go find him before he got to the NICUs or something… but I think we should get to know each other more. What do you say ?” He chides with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

You yank his hand away harshly. “I thought you’re better than that.” It’s ridiculous how boys with A+ look can just slide into your lives and stay for as long as they want then just disappear as if they’ve never been there in the first place. You’d hate to see a version of yourself who spends all day crying in bed because some bastard doesn’t love her back so this pretty boy over here better go before you throw him off a cliff. 

“Don’t ever talk to me again.” And with that, you walk away without turning your head, not even once. Well, so much for a Tuesday afternoon. Tuesdays are supposed to be easy-going for you since you just have to get yourself through several assignments and essays but someone just had to pop up in your life and ruin everything. 

The scowl on your face drops when you push the glass door of the pediatric unit open. Immediately, the kids see you and quickly abandon their nurses to run towards your direction. Your dad just got back from a business trip in Sydney and he still thinks that you’re a nine-year-old so your room is basically filled with candies and other sweet treats. That’d better change today. “Behave well and all of you will have one.” You chuckle at the kids’ eagerness, personally handing one bag over to each and every one of them. 

Five minutes later, the amount of treats are slowly trickling down until there’s only one bag left. In which, you’ve saved it for a specific someone since he’s just that obsessed with Australian candies. Your phone buzzes. How convenient. 

[ 3:45p.m. ]

yongbokie | okay, I’m here, where are you ?

y/n | seventh floor, just go straight down the hallway and it’s on the right side. 

“Here’s your worksheets, now where’s my Tim Tam Slam ?” Felix shoves the stack of papers into your arms as soon as he spots you inside the pediatric unit, surrounded by children, a whole lot of children. He knows your love for kids all too well and the fact that you’re lonely in this hospital is no shocker. Meaning, you’re a part-time kindergarten teacher ( aka whenever you feel like slacking off on school work ). 

You scoff at him, throwing the bag of candies at him with as much aggression. “Changbin’s gonna kick you out sooner or later if you end up looking like a pig, enjoy it while you can.” That’s obviously useless since Seo Changbin is as utterly soft for Lee Felix as you are for kids. Both are annoying little pricks but somehow, your little heart can never get mad. “And you better share that with Chan too or else he’s gonna write an entire diss track about me.” 

“CB97’s new diss track material is apparently Tim Tam Slam, how terrific.” Your friend snickers and tears the bag open single handedly with his teeth while his other hand tapping away on his phone. He doesn’t even need a cup of hot chocolate, that’s how bad Felix is craving his childhood candy. 

“Ooh, earrings ? And jeans too ?” He cocks a brow at your dainty pieces of jewelry. And you never wear jeans in the hospital, never. You think that’s it’s equivalent to asking someone to suffocate you as if the hospital isn’t suffocating enough. “Who are you trying to impress ?” 

Upon his teasing, you let out an audible groan. For once in your life, you’ve made up your mind and actually packed something decent because hospital romance is a thing and you need to be prepared at all times. Not to mention, you might as well snatch yourself a guy who’s totally father material because you hang out at the pediatric unit most of the time. “Haha, very funny. Try and find me someone cute then.” 

Just then, very slowly, a familiar figure takes long strides towards your direction. “Anyone, but him.” You deadpan.

“Him ?” Felix says over a mouthful of chocolate as he turns his head to the front door. 

And holy shit. 

To your dismay - with a bag over his shoulder, face flushed from running with beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks that make him glow like Edward Cullen and his wet fringe covering his eyes slightly — is the pretty boy from yesterday, well, more like five minutes ago. They say everything’s uglier close-up but not him. He’s absolutely breathtaking, undeniably brilliant as if he had just stepped out from an anime. But you’re not falling for that perfect smile again, at least for the time being. 

“Oh hell no.” Felix quickly identifies the boy and hangs his jaw open, the plastic wrapper falling out from his hand. You look at your friend in disbelief, your expression mirroring his - completely lost for words. 

The boy waves his hand at him and smiles widely. “Yongbok !” And just like that, your brain starts to process the new amount of overwhelming information. Slowly, and steadily, all the dots are connected. That guy is definitely heading towards your direction. No one knows Felix’s Korean name unless they’re close friends or family members. Jesus motherfucking Christ-

Felix demands loudly. “Hyunjin, do not move !” 

The pretty boy - whose name is apparently Hyunjin - stops abruptly at his friend’s sudden outburst. He turns his head only to accidentally make eye contact with you. Cocking a brow, he averts his attention back to Felix. You too, tug on your friend’s sleeve before questioning him. 

“You know him ?” “You know her ?” 

Felix widens his eyes in terror and quickly pushes Hyunjin away. “You people are insane ! Six feet away at all times, it’s a fucking simple protocol !” 

“Huh- wait what ?” You stutter. Soon enough, all of the colors on Hyunjin’s face are completely drained and a worrisome feeling suddenly runs down your spine. 

You exchange a weird look with him. “Don’t tell me that you’re a...“

“Are you also a… “ 

Felix face palms himself. “You fucking guessed it.” 

three.

The next few weeks get a little bit mayhem since you’re wrapping up the semester while being hospitalized at the same time. Meaning, you’re struggling real hard to balance the whole feud with finals and all of the medical stuff along with really boring paperwork because your body decided to fail you once again. 

No one was really able to give you company since they have to deal with their own problems too. Your parents are busy with their draining business trips while your brother - Woojin is getting his bachelor degree soon. And Minho is graduating in less than a month. Moreover, you haven’t met the pretty boy since your first and only encounter. 

Speaking of the Devil, “Fancy seeing you here.” 

You peel your eyes away from your laptop and see Hyunjin. In which, almost makes you fall right off the stool that you’ve been occupying for the last hour. You’re still procrastinating like highschool but you’re actually determined to finish your essay because if not, you won’t be able to walk away from your problems again. 

“Six feet away at all times, not six feet under the ground. So knock it off.” You deadpan, ushering him further away with a wave of your hand. If you were being completely honest, Hyunjin just took the breath right out of your lungs at the slightest glance. Time really does make people blind because you almost forgot that although he did try to flirt with you that one time, he’s also drop dead gorgeous. And that makes your heart tingles, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

Hyunjin makes a ‘I’mma-need-you-to-relax’ face and takes a seat on the opposite side of the table. “You still radiate big passive aggressive energy, not so good of a first impression.” 

You laugh dryly. “Speak for yourself. Talk about some shitty flirting skills.” 

“In my defense,” He raises a brow and throws you a look, one that makes you feel personally attacked. “I was genuinely trying to make friends, you sure know how lonely it is to be hospitalized all the time, don’t you ?”

You sneer at him. “Well, you picked the wrong person.” 

“How am I supposed to know that you’re also a CF-er ?! You weren’t wearing your oxygen tubes.” 

Apparently, you think that life hates you more than most of the world’s population because you weren’t just born with cystic fibrosis, you were born into it. The genetic disease gifts you with constant lung infections and gives you a hard time to breath in order to function like a normal human being. More accurately, the protein inside your body becomes dysfunctional so it loses the ability to move chloride to the cell surface. Meaning, the mucus in various organs can attract more bacteria along with germs, causing infections and inflammation. 

So naturally, minimizing contact with any kind of germs and other CF-er are your top priorities unless you want to catch their bacteria and choke to death on it instead. With that being said, you’ve just come to a realization that Hyunjin touched you the other day, skin to skin without any kind of protection like gloves. Some CF-ers have caught each other’s bacteria before by touching a doorknob, and that story scared you shitless. 

You speak up, finally. “Uhm… so.. were you okay ?” 

“If you’re asking if I got cross-infection or not, then no, I’m totally fine. None of that B. cepacia shit.” Hyunjin answers while avoiding your eyes. He quietly reaches inside his backpack and pulls out a blue binder that looks like it’s been used since elementary school because plastic never really goes away. 

You raise a curious brow when he pulls out some pieces of papers that are covered in an awfully dizzy amount of words. “What you got there, pretty boy ?” 

“Now you’re talking, I almost ended up on the ground laughing when you thought that I was nothing but a shallow fuckboy.” Hyunjin is still pissed off because not only did you despise him, you also happens to be Felix’s best friend. Totally irrelevant, but he’s also mad at Felix for not telling him about you sooner. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want the both of you to accidentally kill each other or anything but still, Hyunjin did hold your hand and nothing happened. 

You prop your head on your hand, lips cracking a smile. “But I’m interested now, no hard feelings. You really need to lighten up drama lama.” You’re just noticing this now, but it seems like he’s really similar to Felix. Point break, he’s an easy victim to pick on anytime, anywhere. Of course you’re going to take advantage of this. 

Hyunjin replies monotonously. “I need to practice my lines for the upcoming play for finals season.” He’s trying so hard not to give in and smile at you because he’s decided to play hard to get. 

“No wonder why you’re a dramatic little dipshit. How fitting.” You grin coyly at the scowl on his face. “Okay, sorry, let me tone that down. What are you guys playing ?” 

Hyunjin groans. “We’re trying to fit an entire season of ‘Once Upon a Time’ into a two-hour play. And my fucking God, Captain Hook has a shit ton of lines.” Although it does appeal as a privilege to other people that drama majors can skip through the whole ‘cramming and crying’ to pass their finals, what people don’t know is the amount of work and effort that needs to be put into a single play. It requires patience, team chemistry, diligence and lots of, lots of caffeine to have a decent performance for the whole school. 

There was this one time he pulled seven all nighters in a row just to finish ‘Peter Pan’ before the holiday hit. And for the following five days, he basically lived on his bed and fed on leftover pizza that his roommate refused to microwave. 

You offer him kindly. “Maybe I can help you practice ?” You really feel like a fucking angel with your own imaginary halo shining ever so brightly on the top of your head. “I got nothing better to do anyway, not planning on being stuck with accounting 24/7 or I’m gonna end up in an insane asylum.”

“Thought you’re already in one.” 

“Say that again and I’ll skin you alive !” 

four.

Hwang Hyunjin is fortunately blessed by whatever gods up there because you finally finished finals way before the D-day of his play. Which means you feel even more obligated to help him practice his lines. 

But in all seriousness, he technically doesn’t need you because all you do is read the other characters’ lines right off the script anyway. Unlike you, even in the hospital cafeteria with a stainless steel fork as the hook on his right hand, Hyunjin plays the character as if he’s the one and only, non-biological heir of Leo DiCaprio. 

You can see why he chose the dramatic arts because he embraces and studies closely every movement, every gesture, every inch of flesh, every drop of emotion that his character has to offer. No wonder why they let him play one of the male protagonists because you can’t imagine anyone other than him play the iconic Captain Hook. And it’s actually nice to not having him spatting some kind of witty comments at you every two minutes. 

You clap your hands together. “Act 4. Scene 1.” 

“I already told you, I’m just a blacksmith !” Hyunjin tries to whimper as quietly as possible to avoid dirty looks from other people. He’s portraying that scene where Hook basically got tied up on a tree so that the others could get him talking. 

Your eyes narrow down into a glare, mentally throwing daggers at his general direction. Meaning if Hook doesn’t spill who he really is, he’s gonna be the monster’s meal in a matter of time. “You won’t talk to us ? Maybe they’ll talk to you and snatch one of your limbs for lunch.”

“You can’t just leave me here like this !” He sudden yelps, startling you in the process. You quickly avert your attention from the script to his eyes, clearly they show nothing but desperation and mischief. As the character should have. 

“Su-Sure you’re not.” You stutter, not knowing how to express the words inside the parentheses. 

Hyunjin guides you patiently. “Say it like you’re gonna set me on fire if I dare to test you. Be aggressive, talk aggressively, act aggressively. Aggressive is your middle name now.” His voice starts to get louder and louder at the end, a thing that he accidentally adapted from Chan. He doesn’t even need megaphones to yell at someone at this point. 

You give him a curt nod before gripping the script tightly once again. If you’re gonna help him, you’ll have to make it seem like you’re not slacking off. 

“Sure you’re not.” You deadpan, cringing at your own attempt to sound intimidating. Acting was never your thing either way. You’ve only been chosen for pity roles like ‘Girl #2’ or ‘Tree #5’ for some plays back in middle school and the beginning of highschool. 

He smirks. “Good for you. You bested me. I can assure you that the number of people who have done that before can only be counted on one hand.”

Another thing, you fucking love Emma Swan because she’s practically your twin. The only thing is that you’re not even half as badass as her. Sometimes you don’t even realize that there’s a script in your hands this whole time. “I’m sorry, was that supposed to be funny ? Who are you ?”

“Kilian Jones.” Hyunjin says with a glint of fierceness flickering in his irises. His intense gaze almost makes you run straight into the restroom and scream for a good five minutes. “But most people have taken to call me by my more colorful moniker, Hook.” The rasp in his voice sends chills to the core of your bones. 

You cock a brow. “As in, Captain Hook ?”

He beams. “Ah, so you’ve heard of me.”

You pant slightly out of nervousness, gripping onto the edge of the wooden stool for fuck’s sake. “Hurry up, they’re getting closer. Unless you want to be dinner, you better start talking.” 

Hyunjin shakes his head gently. “Don’t just read out the line. Don’t become the character. Make the character yours. Make it seems like her lines are personally tailored to every single detail of your existence.” He’s mentoring you as if you’re the one who plays Emma Swan and not that one pretty girl from his class. You swear, you’re not a stalker, he literally just spilled everything about his life after very few conversations with you. 

You nod. “Hurry up, they’re getting closer. Unless you want to be dinner, you better start talking.” This time, you finally got a good grip on the character’s emotions, slowly falling into a haze. 

“Cora told me to gain your trust so that I can learn everything there is to know about your storybook.” Hyunjin singsongs, lips curling upwards. You really want to deck him in the face right now. That’s how good of an actor he is. “She didn’t want any surprises when she got over there.”

You pretend to be in disbelief, jaw dropping in the process. “She can’t go there. We already destroyed the wardrobe.” 

He chuckles this time. God you wish you can wipe that stupid smirk off his face, although everything’s just an act. “Ah, my enchantment remained. Cora gathered the ashes and she’s gonna use them to open a new portal.” He looks at you, wiggling his brows to show off his skills before continues. “Now, if you’d just kindly cut me loose—“

“Let’s go.” You say monotonously to your non-existent cast, waving your free hand as a signal for them to walk away. 

“Wait !” Hyunjin slams his fist on the table loudly. It seems like he’s getting immersed in the character again because he can’t be bothered to give two shits about the fact that everyone’s having their eyes on him. More accurately, on the two of you. “You need me alive !”

You also try to ignore all of the weird looks. “Why ?”

“Because we both want the same thing. To get back to your land.” When you meet Hyunjin’s eyes, you nod at him to continue with the script. “I initially arranged for transport with Cora, but seeing just how resourceful you are, I’ll offer you the same deal. I’ll help you as long as you promise to take me along.”

You clear your throat. “How are you going to help us ?”

Hyunjin proceeds to elaborate, slowly. “The ashes will open a portal but to get to your land, she’ll need more. There’s an enchanted compass, Cora seeks it. I’ll help you obtain it before she does.”

“So Cora won’t make it to Storybrooke and we’ll be one step closer to being home. Sounds too good to be true.” You mock him, the corners of your mouth twitching slightly. 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

“I’ll need you to tell me one thing then.” You point the tip of your sword (knife) directly at his throat (a good three inches away) as an attempt to threaten him. “What does the infamous Captain Hook want in Storybrooke ?”

“To exact revenge on the man who took my hand. Rumplestiltskin.” Hyunjin finishes his line and claps, breaking out of character. He looks disturbed at the particular way that you’re pointing the knife at him. “And… cut ! Put the knife down, Y/N. You’re a sadist, not a murderer.” He pushes the piece of cutlery away as if it’s a ticking bomb. 

This time, it’s your turn to wiggle your brows at him. “You don’t know me. What if I’m an actual murderer who preys on the innocent at night, when everyone’s fast asleep in their cozy beds, when they’re the most vulnerable ? What if I’ve been living a double life this entire time and you’re my next target ?” Actually, scratch that. Hyunjin thinks you’re pretty fitting for the role of Regina aka the Evil Queen. 

“Admit it you moron, you’re a sucker for my acting.” He flips his imaginary long hair and you make a gagging noise. It seems like Hyunjin has adapted the habit of holding grudges from Felix because the shy pretty boy that you met a few weeks ago is nowhere to be seen. Like he has grown accustomed to you, he treats you like an old friend, just catching up on things with each other. But in reality, his confidence level just went from a 100 to Han Jisung because you’ve been feeding his ego way too much. 

“There’s room for improvement.” You shrug, trying to keep a straight face. Emphasis on the ‘trying’ part. “Bet you’d do better if that pretty girl was here.”

Hyunjin blows a few strands of loose hair out of his face. He looks really good with disheveled hair, and it’s tickling something at very bottom pit of your stomach. “Kinda wish you could play Emma. You two are literally the same person. She’s just slightly cooler because at least she doesn’t sleep with opened windows.” 

“Is this a fucking call out ?” You hold back the urge to slap him with your slippers. “My room’s on the third floor for fuck’s sake.”

“Rapists can climb.” He smiles cheekily and it makes you ponder about how many more questionable behaviors of his you'd have to deal with for the long future. “You’re definitely going, don’t leave me hanging okay ?” Hyunjin declares and slaps a ticket on the wooden surface, sliding it across the dining table. 

You blink countless times at the ticket, hesitating to grab it with your bare hands. “Take it, I’m wearing gloves anyway.” He reassures you, skimming through some of the scenes that he feels like he could do better. Hyunjin might not look like it but he’s really hard on himself. He takes every single scene, every single line seriously and you admire that about him. He even complained to you how he could have done better for the role of Diaval for ‘Maleficent’ from last month’s play. 

“So the play’s on March 20th ?” You play dumb and pretend to question him after reading the bold letters written in gold. 

Hyunjin peels his eyes away from the script and smiles, eyes forming little crescent moon shape. “Yeah, the day that I’m turning 21, kinda terrifying but since it’s adulthood, I’ll have to bear with it for the rest of my life. At least I have the right to make decisions for myself now.” 

You ask him timidly as your hand fiddle with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Uhm so, do you wanna, I don’t know, get coffee after that or something ?” 

He gives you a dirty look, hard. Clearly Hyunjin’s annoyed. “Look who wants coffee now.” 

“That’s not a ‘no’ that I heard.” 

“You’d better pay up then, I haven’t got paid yet.” 

five.

[ 8:23p.m. ]

y/n | meet me on the terrace.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god.” Hyunjin mutters as he rushes to the dressing room, and even more loops of ‘oh my god’ run through his mind, faster than a lighting bolt. He totally forgot about you until you made eye contact with him when the cast members took a full ninety degrees bow to the audience. You were clapping, cheering on for him like an old friend. But you were smiling, so brightly that he thought you could have lit up the entire stadium on your own. 

Chan finally finishes bowing to the rest of the cast and the crew. He feels like he can only breathe properly once the play came out smoothly. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Minho slipped over his long coat during the second scene, Seungmin was struggling with the lighting and Jisung nearly threw himself over the balcony. Besides that, everything went pretty okay. Little errors are unavoidable so he’ll let everything slide, because the play that he spent months planning out, training the cast so eagerly didn’t come out as a flop. 

“Woah, mate, where are you going in such a hurry ?” He quirks a brow when Hyunjin swings the door open, hair disheveled with ‘panic’ written in bold capital letters across his forehead. 

Changbin supplies unhelpfully as he steps out from behind the black curtain. Little strips of confetti are sticking onto his sweaty hair, thanks to Jisoo who kinda went overboard with the can of hairspray. “He invited a friend to come in and watch the play, can’t leave her hanging now, can he ?” He wiggles his brows in the most obnoxious way possible, being the little pest that he is. 

“I didn’t even say that my friend’s a girl— she’s not even my friend— wait, she is but we’re not that close— what, fuck you.” Hyunjin gives up after four attempts of forming an actual sentence. As if he’s forgotten how to speak, his voice fails him once again when a witty retort lingers at the tip of his tongue. He gives in and goes behind the curtain, quickly changing out of his costume. Like okay, pirates are cool and all but their sense of fashion is pretty questionable because leather boots and salt water ? Not compatible. 

Changbin peels the confetti off his hair before singsonging. “Our Hyunjinnie got himself a date, he’s all grown up now.” 

Chan throws his head back and laughs wholeheartedly. This is why he’s not planning on falling for someone soon because having a chaotic, annoying group of friends can only make things so much more difficult. “Give him a break, Bin. A boy can love whoever his heart yearns for.” Then he pauses, and continues. “Do you want to tell us something about her ?” 

Hyunjin scrunches his nose and starts singing. “Sing a yo ho, you can beg, plead and whine. But yo ho you are wasting your time.” The moment he finishes the line, he’s already changed into his normal clothing and pushed the curtain open. 

Chan and Changbin looks unimpressed. They both think that their friend should really stop quoting his own lines. Hyunjin throws Changbin the hook, then checks his own reflection in the mirror. Not too shabby, at least he didn’t forget to shave this morning. But it’s just you after all, you’d never judge him… wait no you’re highly judgmental. You once called him out for having a piece of carrot in the corner of his lips, shameless. 

“Hear me out one last time, mates. Then I’ve got a date with destiny.” Hyunjin continues to sing because he’s absolutely enjoying every moment of Changbin suffering and mentally dying on the floor. He wouldn’t even feel bad if his ears started bleeding or something, hanging out with weird people have turned him into a sadist, just like them. Tragic. 

Before Chan decides to wrestle him to the floor, Hyunjin starts moonwalking towards the door as he jumps straight to the last bits of the song. “Sing a yo ho, I’ll meet her tonight. Yo ho must be fate’s design. At last our hearts can be intertwined, can’t wait, can’t wait, can’t wait. God is on my side.” He’s just making up lyrics at this point nothing makes sense anymore. 

The door shuts with a small ‘click’, making him snap his mouth closed. Then I’ve got a date with destiny. Right, a date. Well, it’s technically not a date when you asked him to meet up on the terrace where there’s so much to offer. A brilliant view of the city, the ethereal moonlight which sets the atmosphere, just you and him standing face to face.. holy shit it’s a date ? 

“You’re late.” 

Hyunjin whines loudly at your cold statement and supports himself on his knees, chest heaving up and down at an abnormal space. Cystic fibrosis and ten flights of stairs are like water and oil, they don’t blend. “I was changing, do you know how hard it is to slip out of those leather combat boots ?” Upon your silence, he leans himself against the metal railings and sighs, standing a good six feet away from you. “Hey, at least I looked fly in them.” 

You automatically groan because fuck yes, he did look hot. Pirates aren’t supposed to be hot, they’re supposed to be smelly barbarians with shitty attitude. “Since when are you so cocky ?” 

Hyunjin tuts. “I’m very much aware of how good looking I am, thank you for taking your precious time to care about my tiny existence on this glorious planet.” He cocks his head sideways, narrowing his eyes at your sketchy posture. Both hands are hidden behind your back and you’re trying too hard to keep a straight face. “What are you hiding from me ?”

“Nothing.” You let out a small giggle. Clearly he’s not buying it. “Fine, close your eyes.” 

Hyunjin frowns at you but still closes his eyes nonetheless. He has enough faith in you that you won’t have the heart to knock him out cold before selling him off to some kind of mafia organization. “Y/N if you’re planning on kidnapping me, you might as well just do it—“ The words grow dead on his tongue once a small ‘pop’ occurs. What the fuck ? 

“Hey Hyunjin.” 

He flutters his eyes open at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. His hand immediately fly to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. “Oh my god, shut the fuck up !” He utters, shocked at what’s happening in front of his eyes. “You’re kidding, you’re kidding, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

You laugh loudly at how frantic he is once you get down on one knee with a black velvet box in your hand. A silver band with his name engraved on the inside. “Hwang Hyunjin, can you fathom enough courage to walk with me through your youth even though sometimes you wish you could throw me off a cliff ? Can you bear the burden of indulging an impulsive and indecisive person like me in the long run ? Because if you can, then happy 21st birthday, you’re officially stuck with me with the label of being best friends.”

Hyunjin teases, lips curling up into a smile. “Can’t you be a little bit more romantic ?” Although he’s decently attractive, he’s still one of those guys who bury themselves in hopeless romance just because he spends way too much time on Netflix watching some random sappy show while Kkami is watching some stupid dog documentary right next to him on the couch. 

“Fine, I also got myself one. We’re matching.” You confess, showing him your band resting nicely around your index finger. “Since I just know you so well, are you happy with your present now birthday boy ?” 

You finish it off by slipping the ring onto his finger like a cherry on top of a sundae, watching in amusement at how his face is lighting up with joy. “Wow,” He manages the breath out, as light as a feather. “You’re so fucking cheesy, I hate you.” 

You laugh wholeheartedly. “Come on, let’s go downstairs. You have a whole party waiting for you to inhale. Cakes and junk food and all.”

When you stand up right again, shivers run down on your spine at the cold breeze passing by. The wind greets concrete and your skin just the same, tearing through the air and banging loudly against your eardrums. Hyunjin suddenly grabs the sides of your face, still keeping a good distance between you two. Your cheeks are instantly tinted pink at his touch. “Y/N ! Can you hear me ?!” He tries to shout over the wind but fails miserably. 

“What ??” You ask loudly, not being able to catch what he was trying to say. 

“No, you can’t hear me ??”

“What ? I can’t hear you !”

He beams at you and the strangest warm feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. “I have something to tell you !” If he’s doing this now, there’s no going back. 

“I still can’t hear you !”

Hyunjin ignores your confused expression. He slowly inhales to take a deep breath before shouting his heart out at you. “Y/N, I’ll protect you ! No matter what !”  

You can’t quite understand what he’s trying to convey to you but seeing him smiling so widely like this, you know that you could never trade him for anything else. Because no one has ever made you feel this way before, heart pounding inside your rib cage so loudly just by looking at him. You like how you can just see him, and be happy. 

He’s irreplaceable.

six.

Felix glares at the silver band wrapping around your finger, one that’s particularly matching with Hyunjin’s. “So what ? You two are dating now ?” 

“Lee Felix I swear to god, for the tenth time, it’s a just birthday present !” You cry loudly at your best friend overreaction. 

Jeongin butts in. “Yeah right, rings, matching and all. Don’t you think that’s a little bit romantic ?” You’re so fed up with these theatre kids it’s actually ridiculous, you’d rather be cursed than have them singsong into your ears everyday about how you and Hyunjin are acting somewhat sketchy. Sure, being dramatic is naturally what they do for a passion but sometimes you just can’t help it but snap at them to go and kiss a statue. 

“That’s the point of it, dipshit.” Hyunjin sips on his drink obnoxiously, reading through the final page of his reading assignment in a haze. He’s a little bit out of it from running around all day to not get yelled at by his professors for being late to every single damn lecture. “I’m desperate, I need something cute to lighten up my sad life so don’t judge me.”

Jisung suddenly pries loudly because unlike you or Hyunjin, he actually gives zero fuck about publicity and personal information. “Hyunjin and Y/N ? I ship it ! Since you both have been super single and super antisocial for so long, why not date each other ? Get married even, don’t you dare forget my invitation.” 

Needless to say, he quickly earns a smack on the head from Seungmin, hard. Hard enough to knock some logic and common sense into that little disturbing glimpse of thing that they call ‘a brain’ inside his head. “God, Han, you’re so dumb. If you want them to both choke on each other’s bacteria and die, then yeah, hit a five-star restaurant up with that reservation.” 

Sometimes Seungmin wonders why he even befriended Han Jisung in the first place. They nearly threw hands at each other back in highschool because Jisung would constantly forget his stuff inside Seungmin’s locker and Chan had to manually pull them apart later. 

“Actually..” Hyunjin fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. “I think I might have my eyes on someone.” Your heart automatically sinks at his words. Is this what betrayal feels like ? How come he’s never told you before ? Didn’t he promise that he’d never hide anything from you ? Does your friendship mean nothing to him at all ? 

You’d be lying if you said that you haven’t once thought about dating Hyunjin. But you don’t really see the point because it’s just a label over your relationship, it’s not gonna change how you treat each other. At least it’s not gonna change how you treat him. 

But in the end, you want nothing but the best for him so you’re obligated to become his dating counselor. 

Felix tuts eagerly. “Ooh, spill the tea. I’m here for it.”

“Let me guess, it’s that girl from Literature & Criticism 19B ?” Jeongin yawns lazily. Apparently he’s not digging the fact that Hyunjin doesn’t have any non-platonic interest in you. 

Hyunjin shakes his head profusely. “No ! We barely talk, it was only for a presentation from last month. And also I feel kinda awkward around her. Things never click between us.” 

Then, he proceeds to continue with dreamy eyes. “The girl that I’m talking about is so beautiful, so smart, so brave. She enjoys food like no other, like no one is watching and isn’t ashamed of the fact that she can live off donuts and Netflix for three weeks straight. She’s honest, playful but also very gentle and caring. Kinda reminds me of my mom, which is weird but whatever. Maybe people finding a sense of comfort in their partner who’s similar to their parents is a thing.” 

The look in his eyes makes your heart crack a bit. Just a teeny tiny bit. It’s that kind of look that you’ve never seen before but know too well what’s behind those brown eyes of his. The goddamn look one can only have when they’re thinking about that special someone who effortlessly makes their heart swell, who puts a smile on their face no matter what. It’s also that kind of look that you have whenever you’re thinking about Hyunjin. 

“Alright lover boy,” You crack a smile, rolling up your sleeves because things are about to go down. “You’ve just got yourself a dating counselor. A good old trusty friend who’s gonna be there if you accidentally have a mini mental breakdown on your first date.” 

“What do you know about dating ?” Felix’s more than stingy comment just stabs your sky high ego like a needle pricking the tip of a finger. 

You kick his knee from under the table, earning a low grunt in return. “I am the best in the business. Jackson Wang and Mark Tuan ? I did that.” 

Then you lace your fingers together neatly and look at Hyunjin dead in the eye. “So, what’s your ideal first date ?” 

He makes a thinking face. “I haven’t thought about that yet but maybe.. a hike ?” 

“Huh, cool.” You take a total of ten full seconds to process what he just said. 

You deadpan. “It’s a hard no. Consider the fact that she needs nothing but donuts and Netflix in her life, you’re gonna have to rage war with Satan in order to get her out of the house. Popcorn and blankets are total necessities, make them extra fuzzy too. Let’s stick a pin in that, we’ll get back to it later.” 

Felix asks, followed by a loud yawn. “Copy that, what shows is she into ?”

Hyunjin lets out a prolonged sigh. “I’m not so sure but she hates rom-coms and sappy dramas with a passion.” If you’re being completely honest, he really needs to calm down because if a girl is willing to cuddle with him, she’ll literally watch anything. And by that, you mean she will definitely pass out after the long winded introduction of the two protagonists. 

“Sounds like a gal who’d watch The Umbrella Academy.” And you totally didn’t say that just because it’s your favorite show. Because for once, Netflix actually didn’t produce something that was undeniably shitty. 

Hyunjin sounds uncertain. “I have never seen it before.” 

“But he can ?” Jeongin raises a brow.

You shake your head gently. “The show is vicious, violent and contains extremely disturbing content along with really shitty relationships between siblings. Also, the humor doesn’t suit you. Does a fifty-year-old man who’s stuck inside a thirteen-year-old boy’s body and is also someone who fell in love with a mannequin, grew up in a broken family, and became a murderer who timetravels sound enjoyable or what ?” 

Seungmin makes a face. “That can be a dealbreaker.” 

“Meet us halfway here !” Jisung clatters loudly. 

“Sorry, let me back it up a little bit.” You put your hands up in defense. “Hyunjin, it doesn’t matter if all you want to do is go out on a hike and she just wants to curl up into a ball inside her blanket. It doesn’t matter if you guys have different taste in movies. Nothing matters if she truly feels the same way for you because as long as the feeling is mutual, she’d definitely do anything to satisfy your picky ass.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything. He turns his head to face the window and a grin quietly curls its way up on his lips. 

You should have seen the look on your face. 

seven.

Woojin growls at you from your laptop screen. “It’s one in the morning ! Get the fuck back to sleep !” 

He’s extra cranky today because he just finished off his final paper before graduation happens. Running on one hour of sleep per day with a cup of espresso doesn’t sound like the most ideal thing to do but fuck that, he’s not gonna throw all those years of crying over overdue projects in the trash. 

You on the other hand, are so fucking close to soil your pants because your heart is literally dangling off the edge. It’s either gonna roll backwards and land safely as if nothing has ever happened or everything’s going downhill from there. An endless pit of impending misery. And you’d hate to see yourself shedding tears while hogging a bucket of ice cream in your bed like a psychopath. So your only option is unfortunately, your hard headed, dumbass brother. 

But he’s not a complete idiot because his brotherly sixth sense is still there, and it’s never been better. “Okay, something’s up. Spill before I personally drag my ass to the hospital and beat you up to get something out of you.” 

You stutter, tripping over your own words like an absolute fool. “It’s— uhm… whatever, it’s not a secret anymore. It’s— it’s—“

“It’s Hwang Hyunjin.” Your brother reads your mind like a magician, leaving you utterly speechless. But it’s not even a surprise because apparently, everyone knows about your feelings for Hyunjin, just not Hyunjin himself. He’s unbelievably dumb even when Minho and Jisung keep on hinting at him in a not very subtle way. And that makes you wonder why you even fell for him in the first place. Even that fat cat who always takes naps on your balcony knows because you’d be smiling stupidly while FaceTime-ing Hyunjin all the time. It’s a miracle that the cat has not once given you a dirty look. 

You sigh. “Yeah, I‘m confused.”

“About what ?” Woojin huffs tiredly and blows some strands of hair out of his face. 

You blurt, panic mode is fully on. “About why I like Hwang Hyunjin so fucking much when he already had romantic interests in another girl !” 

Woojin thinks you’re being ridiculous and stubborn at the same time, which can make things that much harder for him to break it down for you. Firstly, if one is loved, then one is loved. There’s no reason needed for loving. This might sound like total bullshit, but ‘love at first sight’ is a thing, people are just too heartbroken to accept it these days. Secondly, if you really like Hyunjin all that much, you should be spilling your heart out at him, not at your brother. But whatever, Woojin is one step closer to pushing you towards confessing to your crush because he’s gifted with the ability to prevent you from doing anything dumb. 

“Then what makes you not wanting to like him ?” 

You widen your eyes. “What ?”

Woojin shakes his head gently, an exasperated sigh escapes his lips. “You can’t love all of him. This is real life, not a fucking John Legend’s song. If you don’t even know what you hate about him in the first place, you’re not gonna know why you like him relentlessly.” His words slowly sink into your mind, trains after trains of thoughts are dashing through your mind at the speed of light. Goddamn, your brother is right. 

“Gosh, I don’t know. I can’t hate him even when I want to.” Before you can pick every single strand of hair off your head, Woojin once again snaps you back into reality with a serious look on his face. He’s not messing around this time. “One, he’s a CF-er. And two, I’m not gonna be the one who walks down the aisle to have them announce our marriage. Three, he only sees me as a friend.” There’s no happy ending for people like you, especially you. The moment you found out that Hyunjin’s also a CF-er, you knew all too well that it’s over for you both. 

Your brother scrunches his nose in annoyance. He really should have signed you up for a dating counseling session. “You don’t know what the future holds. It could be better, it could be worse. Or nothing would change at all. Whatever happens, humans still yearn for the happy ending of their own imagination. Because after all, we were the one who pushed ourselves towards dead ends.” 

“What’s so wrong with loving someone ?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with loving someone, but how we love them.” 

Again, Woojin’s right. Every minute, every second, every moment with Hyunjin always leaves you completely stripped and vulnerable. All of your concerns, insecurities, and strength are revealed unintentionally. And the walls that you’ve spent years building ? Mercilessly destroyed. Someday, you’ll either look back on it and smile or you’ll realize that once you’ve fallen, there’s no turning back. You just can’t control who you’ll fall for. 

Being in love with Hyunjin is another reason why you believe that life hates you to the very core of your bones. It’s like the whole universe is playing with your mind, because all it takes is to make Hyunjin exists at the same time as you do. That alone is enough to mess up your entire existence. 

You cover your face with your blanket, voice muffled beneath the soft fabric. “What’s your point then ?”

“My point,” Woojin sits straight up from his bed and yawns in the loudest, most obnoxious way possible. “is that you can still fall for Hyunjin even when he’s a CF-er, even when he likes someone else. Hyunjin is still Hyunjin. Cystic fibrosis or none, he’s still just Hyunjin. And you love him for who he is. Don’t ever forget that. And don’t get mad when things don’t work out because loving is hard, loving is painful. You just try your best not to get hurt. Every scar has a story and it represents how you’ve grown throughout time. So it doesn’t matter if you accidentally trip and make a fool of yourself. You simply like Hwang Hyunjin, and I’m not going against that.”

You unknowingly smile. The perks of having an older brother always come at the most unexpected time. You suddenly feel bad for all of those kids who grew up without siblings. 

“So are you telling me not to be all sad and miserable ?”

Woojin nods absentmindedly. “Precisely. One day you might be strong enough to smile as you watch him intertwining his fingers with another woman’s. Give them your blessings, countless words will never be enough. What they want is your genuine honesty, how you’re truly happy for them. After that, take a different turn, or just move on as it is in silence. But do not let the memories that you made with him become meaningless because trust me, that hits harder. And that’s how you can love someone without being petty about it for the rest of your life.” 

You say. “I think I can hold back my tears when Hyunjin’s getting married now.”

“But he needs to know first.” Woojin interrupts you abruptly. 

You break out of your trance and ask. “Knows what ?”

“About your stupid feelings for him !” Woojin is quick enough to hold back the scream stuck inside his throat because if not, Chan’s gonna grill his ass so hard for making questionable noises in the middle of the night while his roommate is stressing over a song that’s yet to be complete. The double life between a college student and a SoundCloud rapper isn’t as hot as people tend to think. It just consists of a whole lot of cramming homework while trying to come up with a new batch of lyrics every two weeks. 

“He deserves to know that. The sooner the better.”

Conveniently, your phone buzzes on your night stand. 

[ 1:17a.m. ] 

hyunjin | I’m gonna do it. 

hyunjin | I’ll confess to her.

hyunjin | this is so terrifying what do I do ?

eight.

“Y/N wait up, you still have to take your medication !” Mark yells after your panicked figure dashing through the hallway while he’s pushing a cart with an awful amount of medicines piled up. 

You shout back at him abruptly. “I’ll be back in an hour ! Don’t tell Jackson about this !” Whatever, you hate being on a drug trials anyway. Having multiple pills shoved down your throat each and everyday makes you sick to the core. It seems like you’re only getting closer to being buried six feet under the ground. But that’s not the point. 

Point is, if you’re going to die sooner or later, there’s no way in hell you’d let your life end before you tell Hyunjin how you truly feel about him. 

“Hyunjin, where exactly are you going ?” You manage to talk in between short breaths while having him on the other line. 

He replies bluntly, uneven breathing and quick footsteps can be heard. “You know how everyone has their own youth, right ?” You keep running despite the fact that what he said just makes no sense. What on Earth is he planning on doing ? 

“I also have a youth of my own.” He pauses for a while. “But it seems like… my youth is one to be forever reserved.”

You shake your head furiously, confused at what he’s trying to convey. “Hyunjin, I don’t get it. One moment you’re talking about how you’ll confess to the love of your life and now you’re telling me this ? Did something happen ?” 

Hyunjin ignores your question and continues. “My parents would always urge each other to work harder, to make more money so that I can have a lung transplant and prolong my life day after day. But it’ll cost us five hundred thousand dollars, eight hundred even. So I was more than happy to tell them that I’m ready to stop walking on this beautiful flower path anytime. Then, I saw the heartbroken look in my mom’s eyes. That look, it’s— it’s haunting, and hurt me profoundingly.”

His breath hitches, making your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Knowing that he’s in such a vulnerable state but there’s nothing you can do about it hits so hard that you hate yourself. “There was a man who came up and met me in my hospital room one day, told me that he saw every single play that I’ve participated in. He wanted to sponsor me, to let me fully enjoy my own youth, to give me the money to fly to the States, to get a lung transplant, and lead me to stardom afterwards.”

“But..” He suddenly chuckles. “I have no desire to receive his generosity. Not even one bit. Now, before you start yelling at me, hear me out. I know that I’m selfish, I know that I’m being stubborn but the life that he’s talking about. That’s not the life that I’ve always dreamt of. The life that I wanted, is one where all of my family and friends, are eternally safe, and happy. That’s it, it’s as simple as that. Hence, I’m willing to give that chance to someone else. Someone who’s very special and close to my heart.” 

Hyunjin lets out a muffled sob on the other line and you’ve never felt so helpless before. You just wish you could run to him, tell him that everything’s gonna be okay, and touch him. You don’t know how someone who’s so close can be so far away at the same time. 

“Because.. well, because cystic fibrosis isn’t just leading me on a path that’s one step closer to death, but it’s also threatening the happiness of the girl I’ve unfortunately fallen for. Unfortunately, that is. She’s always been the biggest ‘what if’ because there were nights where insomnia would creep up on my spine, it was impossible to shut my eyes with her on my conscience. Because why me ? Why me ? I just need a little bit more time, just a little so that I can see her smile, so that I can hold her close, so that I can finally tell her how I really feel.” 

“Time is a currency that you can only use, not make. And I’m already running low. Obviously, I can care less even if I die tomorrow. But as long as I’m alive, let me live as merrily as possible, as happily as possible, and to be able to see my loved ones as long as possible.”

Just then, it feels like the whole world just stops spinning when all you can hear is the sound of your shoes tapping against the ground, and him sobbing like a distressed child, raw deep down from the inside. You didn’t realize that you’re crying uncontrollably until salty drops of tears trickle down on your cheeks and drench the collar of your shirt. They blur your vision but you keep on running because Hyunjin needs you, he needs you now. 

The icy grey sky is like a piece of fabric draped over the whole town. Dark clouds snuggle closer to each other as they hold in the heavy rain in their delicate forms. All of a sudden, rain pours over you with a roar, thunders grumble vigorously in the distance. The coldness of its touch pierces right through your skin and chills run down your spine beneath your clothes that are now soaking wet. Your footsteps never once falter and continue to move on down the slippery path. 

“To love you as long as possible.” Hyunjin breathes out, as light as a feather. “Y/N, I hate to break it to you but I no longer want to be friends with you. Because I already love you too much to accept the label of being best friends.” He says with such determination and huffs. “With that being said, I’ll now consider the ring on my finger as a proposal. And to answer your question on my birthday, yes, I would love to walk with you on this path with the remaining time. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, to care for you, to be someone that you can lean on. So what do you say ? Are you ready to take my hand and my hand only ?”

“Yes, I am.” You stop once you’re right in front of the café that Jisung used to work in, where many unforgettable memories were made throughout time. And on the opposite side of the road, is Hyunjin. Your knees grow weak at the sight of him. Damp hair, teary eyes with a smile on his face. He’s absolutely ethereal and it’ll only take you a few more steps to get to him. “Hyunjin !” You wave at him, the balls of your feet automatically send you running towards his direction. 

You feel like you’re hazing because everything’s all too good to be true. How he’s looking at you lovingly, how you’re yearning for his touch, how you’re so close to have him in your arms. Sadly, the sound of rubber tyres hissing against the concrete floor snaps you back to reality. Before you can even process anything, there are two lights ahead blinding your eyes. With a jolt, you realize that those lights belong to a car. 

You didn’t know how it happened but the next thing you know is the feeling of the entire weight of your body is pinning you to the ground. Every single limb, every part, every organ inside your body feels like they are being crumbled like a piece of paper. Pain, there’s so much pain. The metallic taste of blood is soaking through your teeth, leaving you in that weird grey area between being awake and being unconscious. You can feel your flesh being torn open, your bones cracking, your lungs caving in for cramped air in silence. Silence, that scares you more than the blow itself. It feels like an eternity, just lying there, completely paralyzed as you wait for Death to arrive. 

It seems as if the agonizing pain is the only thing that's keeping you alive. 

“Y/N ! Y/N !” Hyunjin calls out to you helplessly as he cups the sides of your cheeks. Seconds later, you can feel his mouth against yours, giving you the amount of air that your lungs has been dying to have. “Y/N, stay with me, stay with me.” He mumbles against your ear before wrapping your arms around his neck to carry you on his back. Hyunjin is chasing time through the night, through the hellish downpour to not waste a single minute, a single second to keep you safe. Because he’s just so sick, so fucking sick of life for taking everything away from him. He’s not gonna lose you, not like this. 

“Hyunjin,” You whisper weakly.

He shakes his head. “Don’t fucking die on me or I’m never gonna be able to forgive you.” 

“Hyunjin, I’m kinda sleepy.” You laugh, tasting the coopery blood inside your mouth. “I’ll just take a nap, just for a while, okay ?” Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, you can’t tell whether he’s just being stubborn or he can’t hear you with the heavy rain down pouring onto him. But that doesn’t matter anymore because you’re far too exhausted to start arguing with him. Naturally, you’re going to allow yourself to black out either way. 

nine.

Weeks later, you’re standing on the rooftop by yourself to run away from the stuffy air of the hospital, those floors and walls that all have an undertone of bleach. They suffocate you, everything does. 

You watch the sunset at horizon, enjoying the majestic sight in front of you as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever witness. Rich hues of red, yellow, orange blend into one another gracefully, dancing in between the pink fluffy puffs of clouds. Your spirit soars into the distance as you inhale deeply, feeling refreshed after a long day. It does feel nice to not have all sorts of machines attached to your body like ropes that are tying you down into a single place and trapping you inside a tiny box. 

Everyday, you’d sneak out of your room to come up here, and meet him again. 

“Y/N,” You close your eyes, smiling at the sound of his voice echoing inside your ears. “By the time that you’re listening to this audio, I would probably, you know, be gone.” 

A single tear silently roll down on your cheek. “But I’ll tell you what. I’m not scared of dying, because having the persistent information that I’m always one step closer to hell than everyone else has accidentally made me numb. I am terribly afraid of one thing though.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “I don’t want to be separated from my friends, my family, and from you. Moreover, I don’t want to see the people whom I love so devotedly suffer just because of me. I know what you’re doing, wipe those tears off your face right now. Chin up, and smile. Or you’ll end up complaining about your face getting puffy again.”  

You laugh at his words, and attempt to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. “Once I’m no longer walking on this flower path with you, that means a new chapter is ready to be open. I cannot thank you enough for bumping into me that day. And thank you for agreeing to practice my lines with me. I could have never played Captain Hook if it weren’t for you. And thank you, for the ring, it’s the most precious thing I've ever had on my hand. But I’ve figured… you deserve a new life. I know that five years doesn’t sound like much but maybe in those five years, things might change and there will finally be a cure for cystic fibrosis.”

“You might think, how could you possibly move on without me ? Well, think of me as a dandelion. Oddly charming, with a short life span. But I’ll never really go away because at the end of its life, a dandelion’s pistil will give birth to countless of seeds. Those seeds will be carried away by the wind and continue to grow, to breed, to multiply themselves for so many more purposes.” 

Hyunjin suddenly starts crying quietly, you can hear how he’s trying to muffle his sobs and it makes your heart shatter into a million pieces. There’s absolutely nothing that you can do. “I’m very content with the life current that I have, or had. At least I’ll die knowing that I have no regrets.” He chuckles. “But there’s still something that I need to tell you, just in case. Not to be pessimistic, but just in case.”

“Y/N, I love you, more than anything in the whole wide world. It’s so frustrating because there were times where I wish I could just have you in my arms, to feel your warmth, to kiss you, to touch you. I don’t care about labels because that wouldn’t change my feelings for you. I’d still love you foolishly because I care too much. Too much that it hurts. I want to spend the little amount of remaining time with you. I even don’t know if you’re the one but I need you in my life. You and only you.” 

His voice cracks. “...just don’t miss me too much, okay ?” 

You can swear that it’s not hazing but if you look far enough, Hyunjin is still there, waving at you with a smile on his face. 

Approximately six feet away. 

[neriad13]

Because I had so much fun writing about it yesterday, have a few more (hopefully interesting) minor antagonist characterizations that I spent way too long coming up with based on tiny amounts of available canonical information on what they were like before Rapture fell.

Gilbert Alexander is organized, efficient, self-disciplined and passionate about his work. The money is nice, but it definitely isn’t his main reason for being. What he was really interested in when he came to Rapture was pushing the boundaries of his field, as well as those of his own talents. 

To other people, he’s soft spoken, overly polite and a bit of a bore at parties. As his sense of his own social skill is somewhat inflated, this last bit frequently escapes him. He feels personally slighted when his overly eager to please tendencies fail to gain him friends and will ruminate on the smallest slights for much longer than they deserve. But ultimately, he’ll just keep stewing in his discontent and will likely never say anything to the colleagues who give him headaches. He does have an allergy to confrontation, after all. 

You’d think one so sensitive to how other people think of him would be a bad fit for a job which involves a long line of test subjects who hate his guts and do not tire of saying so while they still have the faculties. But that’s where his self discipline comes in especially handy. Between him, his test subjects and the prison they come from, there is a meticulously crafted wall. On one side of it is him, his peers and his superiors. On the other side are those he simply doesn’t see as human at all. They’re just “animals” or “criminals” to him or in the case of the little sisters, production units. 

It’s a bit embarrassing when an experiment goes awry and the boss has to wipe all the evidence lest Ryan find out that Rapture’s security has been compromised by a big daddy who’s gone too far out of city bounds to covertly get back. But he feels no true anger towards any of his test subjects when they “misbehave.” How can he, when they’re just animals doing what their nature demands they do? Thus, though his methods are by definition cruel, he does not indulge in cruelty for cruelty’s sake and leans toward seeing every failure as an opportunity for learning, rather than regret. 

The only thing that was ever capable of knocking a hole through such a well built wall was a direct confrontation with an angry mother. When Lamb and the little sisters became human to him, his people-pleasing instincts went into full, self-destructive swing. 

Sinclair’s problems are the inverse of Gil’s, which is why the two of them don’t like each other much. 

Sinclair very much cares about the money. It’s a self defense mechanism. As long as he has enough of it, he can buy escape pods, bodyguards, all the luxuries that put a protective barrier between him and the outside world. But mainly, it’s so he can have all the security that his father never had. He’s told himself that this isn’t the case so many times that he almost believes it.

Like Gil, he too has a wall between whom he considers human and whom he does not, in order to do what he does in his line of work. But his is considerably more shoddy and easily knocked over. What works better for him is simply not looking too close at the consequences of his business plans. 

In the book “Against Empathy”, there’s an anecdote about a woman in Nazi Germany who once lived within sight of a concentration camp and at a certain time every day, could see the people inside being tortured from her window. It bothered her immensely. So she rang the officers there and demanded that they torture their prisoners where she couldn’t see. The presence of empathy is not necessarily coupled with the drive to do right. 

That’s where Sinclair is at, a decade before the start of the second game. He takes care not to spend a whole lot of time in his own slums and only visits Persephone in person several times a year. The vast majority of his time is spent in high class establishments and gilded boardrooms, a world away from the misery he’s built his fortune on. As long as it’s happening where he can’t see, he has no qualms about it at all. 

What trips him up are the rare occasions in which he is forced to confront the consequences of his actions up close and personal. Even so, the remorse usually only lasts until he’s comfortably sheltered in his home or office or at a ritzy gentleman’s club filled with other people who don’t think his business tactics are a problem at all.

During the war, he sheltered in a luxury bunker filled with expensive liquor and top of the line prepackaged meals. For a while, he thought it would run its course and then the rebuilding would commence. He made a few bucks in the meantime and did a good job at keeping his head above water. 

But when he emerged, his money was barely worth the paper it was printed on and of the empire he had worked so hard to build, nothing of worth remained. When his supplies ran out, he had to resort to scavenging like all the other common survivors. He frequently found himself working with people he had once considered beneath him and doing the dirty work he was in the habit of handing off to underlings. More than anything else, it was this experience that changed him. There was no longer anywhere he could run to escape his regrets. He couldn’t block out the reality that he now lived in the thick of.

Not that he didn’t try, though. In the beginning, Delta was merely a tool for securing his own exit out of the city. Or so he told himself. But as time went on and he got to know who he was working with, the pull of his newly installed moral compass grew stronger. Until finally, he found himself betraying the principles he’d swore he’d never give up.

[pressedinthepages]

Chapter 5: Hunt

Summary: The hunt begins, and an injury brings forth discussions, and an offer is made.

Series Masterlist

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382063/chapters/60071566

Words: 3240

Tags: @whitewolfandthefox   (Add yourself to my taglist here!)

Warnings: nightmares, blood, undressing, almost-nudity, feelings

A/N: This one was a fun one to write, then it got feelings-y, which is still fun, but not the same as writing a badass harpy battle.

    You are running, the wind biting your nose as your hair whips across your face. The ground is hard under your feet, your heart pounding against your chest in a rapid tattoo. The trail is steep, causing the muscles in your thighs to ache. You can smell blood on the air and you run faster, the scent growing as you approach the cliff at the end of the trail. You can see the body from here, the hulking figure curled on itself with its back to you. You drop to your knees next to him, rolling him onto his back. 

You hold your breath as you take in the overwhelming amount of blood soaking the red-striped fabric. Eskel isn’t breathing, and you claw at his chest to try and find where the blood is coming from. No matter where you look, you can’t find any wound, and the blood just keeps flowing under your fingertips. His eyes are closed and his skin is deathly pale, and you can’t hold back the sob that flies from your lips. You curl your fingers into his jerkin, the leather stiff under your grip. You pull his head to your chest, cradling him as you cry out into the vast nothingness. The ground shakes beneath you and something calls your name and clench your eyes shut as you brace for the worst…

You open your eyes, Eskel leaning over you with his hands on your shoulders, shaking you awake. His golden gaze is filled with concern, but you feel his grip relax as you blink into consciousness. He lets go and sits back on his heels, letting you sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. You haven’t had such a vivid nightmare in years, only occasionally being awoken by a vague sense of discomfort. 

You rise to your feet, slightly too awake, but adamantly ignoring the pounding ache behind your ears. Eskel stands too, once more placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks, looking deep into your eyes and searching for anything out of place.

“I’m fine, I just hope I didn’t wake you…” your voice is cold, you don’t want his pity, but you can’t help the apology in your tone as you pull away to pack up the camp. 

Eskel turns as well, rolling up his own bedroll and stowing it onto his horse. Scorpion, you think, what an odd name for a horse. 

“Nah,” he murmurs, only loud enough for you to barely hear him over the cool morning breeze, “I’d been awake for a while, just meditating. But you cal-” he stops. You hear him take a sharp intake of breath before continuing, “You were tossing around, I know what a nightmare looks like. I couldn’t just watch you go through it.”

You turn to face him, finding him standing at Scorpion’s side, absentmindedly scratching at the rough scars on his cheek. You draw closer, looking into his eyes and finding not pity, but pure empathy. You gently place a hand on his arm, stopping the scratching with your touch.

“Thank you, Eskel,” you whisper, squeezing his arm lightly under the black chemise. You are thankful, too, that he has yet to put on his armor, not quite awake enough to face the real him looking exactly like the version in your nightmare.

You force yourself to step back once more, loading the last of your equipment onto your horse. She nudges into your shoulder as you call, “All set, wolf?”

“Mhm, hang on,” he replies, and you glance over your shoulder. You see that Eskel has finished dressing, fingers still doing up the laces on his jerkin. He kneels to the ground right next to where Lil’ Bleater is still slumbering, huffing a small sigh as he does. He scoops her up, deftly tucking her into his shirt in a clearly well-rehearsed move. She only lets out a soft bleat, not thrilled with being awoken but apparently content with being wrapped in Eskel’s warmth.

Eskel rises, one hand holding the bottom of the large lump now lining his shirt. He catches your eye, and you smirk at him, teasing lightly at just how spoiled his little goat is. You murmur soothingly to your horse, stroking her mane sweetly before telling her to stay put. She trods to stand at Scorpion’s side, the two of them making fast friends while camping. 

…

    The walk to the far edge of the woods is silent, other than the occasional snore escaping from inside of Eskel’s shirt. The trees begin to thin, offering a view of a steep cliff through the morning fog. Your ears twitch at the sound of high screams and aggressive flapping, the harpies having apparently made their nest at the top of the cliff. 

    The ground is littered with stray feathers and leaves, the soil saturated with blood. The air smells of death and decay, which you know will only get stronger the closer you get to the nest. Eskel silently gestures to the left, where you can see a gentle slope leading to the top of the cliff. You nod before slowly moving, your steps light on the forest floor so as not to attract unwanted attention too soon. 

    The sound of the beasts fades a bit as you make your way along the edge of the trees, not quite far enough away to justify leaving the cover just yet. Once their screams are only heard under the sounds of the nearby stream do you stall, looking back at Eskel to make sure that he is ready. He holds up a hand and steps away, bending low at the base of a tree a few steps further into the woods. You see him make the sign for Axii, and you know that he has set Lil’ Bleater somewhere safe and made sure that she wouldn’t leave. 

He returns, and you both draw your silver swords. You reach into your pack to find your oils and potions, offering him the small bottles to use for himself as well. You both make your way forward, breaking free from the trees and keeping your eyes up to watch for any stray visitors. As you begin to ascend the slope, you can tell that there are likely around ten harpies at the crest. It should be easy pickings between the two of you, having both taken down numerous larger beasts over the years.

You both move to flank either side of the nest before rushing into the center of the fray. The beasts take notice of you instantly, screaming and diving towards you. Eskel’s back presses against yours and you move in tandem, swinging and casting signs in every direction. You step forward and he steps back, covering each other instinctively even after all of these years. You both take down harpy after harpy, swiftly moving towards the central nest. You can feel the crackle of latent chaos behind you, Eskel’s magic bubbling and spilling into the air.

Before you can throw a samsum bomb into the branches of the nest, Eskel yells your name, causing you to turn to him and see him cast Aard in your direction. You fly backwards, preparing to land in a crouch, but you feel the sharp scratch of claws along your shoulder and down your arm. You land gracelessly, dust flying around you as you scramble back to your feet. Blood trickles down your arm and you switch your sword to your other hand as you take in your surroundings. 

Eskel is focused, swinging with the precision of a well-oiled machine. You find yourself gawking at him, a heat blooming low in your stomach that you had long forgotten was there. His jerkin swings as he spins, catching one of the last harpies with the tip of his sword. She falls to the ground and Eskel lunges, thrusting his sword deep into the beast’s abdomen. You see the last harpy turn and dive towards him and you close the distance between the two of you. 

Just as she is about to plunge her claws deep into his back you jump between them, casting Igni as you move. The harpy plummets in a burst of flames, screaming and writhing until, with a quick slash of your sword, you remove her head from her body. 

The air is still, suddenly silent as you turn to face Eskel once more. You can hear his heart now, escalated for a witcher but still inhumanly slow. His hair is disheveled and there is a tear in one of his gauntlets, but he is otherwise unharmed. His golden eyes travel over your figure, and you know that he is trying to see if you are harmed as well. He stops at your arm, the sharp smell of your blood filling the air. 

“You’re hurt,” Eskel says, stepping forward and offering his hand to help you. 

You shake your head, “Honestly, it’s nothing I’ve never dealt with before. Hell, it’s not even the worst that something got me this year.”

You move towards the harpy on the ground in front of you, crinkling your nose at the scent of her burnt skin. You take out your dagger and you hear Eskel do the same behind you, dismantling the beasts to refill your supplies and collect your rewards. 

The two of you make short work of the bodies, the pain in your arm settling to a dull ache. You know that the bleeding has not stopped yet, but it is slow enough to not be concerning. You whistle for your horses, loading your saddlebags with your trophies. Eskel drops one of the samsum bombs into the nest, the small explosion burning away all evidence of the beasts that lived there not so long ago.

“Want a hand wrapping that up?” Eskel mounts Scorpion as he asks, taking the reins casually as he watches you. 

“You know what? If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to have some help with cleaning this up,” you grab the reins with your uninjured arm and walk alongside your horse, not wanting to agitate your wound further by trying to climb into the saddle. 

He nods and you begin the trek back to the camp. You take a deep breath in as you walk, the scent of the herbs in the forest, and oranges cutting through the metallic smell of your blood. It calms you, and you allow yourself to drift, relaxing into the steady sound of Eskel’s heartbeat from above. 

He clicks his tongue, slowing Scorpion to a stop as he dismounts just inside of the treeline. He vanishes for a brief moment before reemerging, Lil’ Bleater nipping at his heels. It seems that her calm demeanor has dissipated, bleating at Eskel loudly for attention. She trots up to you and gently nudges against your leg, apparently deciding to walk beside you for the time being. 

You make your way back to the clearing around the stream, leaving your horses at the edge while you clean up. Lil’ Bleater bounds through the grass, energy threatening to burst at the seams. 

You begin to rid yourself of your armour, slipping the sheathes for your swords from your back. You raise your arm to remove the sturdy fabric of your shirt, hissing when your shoulder stretches and the wound flares with a fresh burst of pain. Eskel is at your side in an instant, silently moving to take over where you had left off. 

His fingers pull at the strings tying the front closed and they loosen, already starting to take the pressure off of the broken skin. You slide your uninjured arm out of the sleeve while Eskel gently pulls the other sleeve down. The leather angers your tender skin and you feel the trickle of fresh blood seeping into the wound. 

Eskel sets the clothing down, leaving the torn sleeve facing upwards so that any blood on the fabric won’t spread. You look down at your arm to assess the damage. Your white chemise has a long tear in the sleeve and the edges are stained a bright red. The smell of copper has only intensified with the exposure of your injury. You can’t get a good look at it though, the light fabric of your shirt sticky with blood. 

Eskel seems to be thinking along the same lines as he steps closer to you. “May I? We need to get that cleaned,” he says, not meeting your eyes. He’s always been a bit bashful, you think, a timid deer trapped in the body of someone who shouldn’t be able to feel such trivial nonsense. You nod, lifting your arms slightly so that he may help. 

The laces at your chest are already untied, you tend to leave them that way so that they won’t restrict your movements. You feel his fingers at your waist as he tugs your chemise from the waist of your trousers. Eskel carefully slides his hand up under the fabric, pulling it away from your frame as you thread your uninjured arm down from the sleeve. You duck, Eskel lifting the neck of the shirt up and the rest of it following until only your wounded arm remains clothed in the sticky fabric. He gently peels it away, small goosebumps forming along any skin not drenched in your blood. The shirt falls to the ground in a cascade of white and red, casting a scent of copper and sweat and the forest floor into the air as it crumples on the ground.

You stand before Eskel clad only in a brown leather corset, only tied tight enough to offer support for your figure. You can tell that he is conflicted, trying to be polite and not look anywhere deemed inappropriate, but he also needs to look at you to help you. 

“Hey,” you joke lightly, “I know my shoulder is gorgeous, but it is just a shoulder.”

Eskel huffs out a short bark of a laugh, the tension in the air beginning to melt away. He leads you to sit at the edge of the stream atop of a rock, and you take a deep breath in an attempt to quiet the thoughts running around your head. He kneels in front of you before dipping a spare piece of cloth into the water, letting it soak before lifting it and gently running it down the wound. You shiver, but not from the pain or the chill of the water, but from the tender strokes that Eskel uses to clean the dirt and dried blood from your arm.

You’ve never been ashamed of being bare in front of someone, maybe apologetic at times for the numerous scars but never anything more than that. But in this moment, there is something strangely intimate between you, and while it is unsettling to say the least, you cannot say that you’d rather be alone. 

“You know,” you start quietly, his eyes flashing like the sun to yours before blinking back to your arm, “I thought you were dead too…”

Your voice trails off at the edge, unsure of where you were headed with that trail of thought. You see Eskel’s brow furrow and he turns your arm a bit, looking to be sure that you were completely clean. 

Apparently satisfied, he asks, “How is that? I haven’t exactly gone underground, and I hear about the others often enough to know that they’re alright.”

You shake your head as he moves to grab your ruined chemise from the ground, tearing away the bloodied parts of the fabric and rending the rest of it into long strips to be used for bandages. Damn, you think, I had really liked that one…

“Well, I had heard about you from time to time, but gods? Maybe twelve, fifteen years ago? I just stopped hearing about you. I know now why, people were still talking but not about someone who looked like what I thought you did.” As you speak, his hand moves to scratch at the long scars along his cheek. You long to stretch out a hand and trail your fingers across the angry skin, soothing it with a gentle touch that it has never known. You think better though, leaving your hands in your lap as you continue.

“I always feared the worst. I grieved for what felt like an eternity, thinking that I would never have the chance to see you in this world.” Your voice cracks a bit at the end and you tear your gaze away, watching the gentle trickling of the water along the stream to anchor and calm you. 

You sit in silence for a moment, both of you unsure of what to say next. You feel Eskel begin to wrap your arm in fabric, feeling a bit of pressure at the movement but only enough to know that it will be secure as you continue along the Path.

Eskel shifts and you bring your eyes back to him. He is still looking down as he works, but his mouth opens a few times as if to say something, but then thinking otherwise. Finally, he shakes his head slightly as if he has made a decision, finished bandaging your arm but still keeping his hand along the skin of your arm under your elbow.

“This morning, when I woke you?” You nod, waiting for him to continue. “You were screaming, crying out my name and I could smell the grief pouring from you, like waves on sand. I don’t know what you saw there, and I don’t need to. But I couldn’t stand to see you in so much anguish, especially not because of me.”

His voice drops to barely more than a whisper with the last thought. You can’t bear seeing him like this either, skittish and timid from a life that he never asked for. You know that many people are not exactly welcoming to witchers, but Eskel looks so defeated that you can feel an ache in your chest, tears threatening to fall from your eyes with the wash of emotion. 

You lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. He rises a bit to meet you, his hands wrapping around your waist and holding you close. You nuzzle into his neck and breath deeply, letting the scent of oranges and leather and steel soothe you once more. You’ve had more loving physical contact in the past twenty-four hours than you have had in years, and gods, you could get used to this.

…

    You’re dressed once more, only wearing a dark chemise under the straps for your swords. You’ve draped your thick leather jerkin atop the saddle on your horse, remembering that you had seen an armorer in town and resolving to have him stitch up the slice along the sleeve. You turn to look at Eskel, finding him already looking at you. 

    You’re still for a moment, neither of you ready to say goodbye. You let yourself take in every detail you can; his hair lightly drifting in the breeze, the scars along his skin, the goat bounding through his legs, his golden eyes deepened with the intensity of a thousand suns. You’re not sure if you’ll ever see him again, but for now, you want to take anything and everything to remember him by.

    “Come travel the Path with me.”

[yanara126-writing]

The Adventures of Hildraed Dawnsbane - Watching and Fucking Morals (4/?)

Farmer, Pirate, Menace, Captain, Dawnsbane. Hildraed has many titles, she really could have lived well without Watcher.

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Read here or on Ao3. (1827 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

I recommend listening to this song, as it was the inspiration for the fever trip that made me wright this. It’s really good, I promise.^^

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Hildraed was mad. And she hated this town. Why was she even still here? Because fucking damnit she felt bad for these people. It had started with the damn cook, continued with the poor abused woman (had the fucker not been dead she’d have killed him herself) And then there was the blacksmith who’d promised her a discount, Aufra with her probably soulless baby (not that she’d told her that), and then the goddamn farmers. Because it always came down to farmers, didn’t it? And now she was slouching back in the inn, nursing some bad ale. And the stupid hunk was smiling at her. Fuck him. Eh, maybe later.

Aloth was far better to focus on, with his companionable grouchiness.

With a more desperate than enthusiastic swing she drained her cup and it slammed it down again, trying to pretend the ale wasn’t more water than alcohol.

“I hate this place.” Edér’s stupid grin only got wider. Hildraed glared some more at the cup. She wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“Does that mean we can finally leave?” Hildraed didn’t miss the desperation in Aloth’s tone and almost felt bad for him. Only almost though, she felt way worse for herself.

“Yeah. Yeah we can. In fact, we will right now.” Originally she’d intended to stay one more night and leave in the morning, but if she had to continue seeing Edér’s stupid, satisfied smirk she was going to punch him after all. She slammed a few coins on the table, not bothering with counting out the exact amount, grabbed her bag and stomped out the door. Behind her she could hear her new companions scrambling to finish their own drinks and hurry after her.

Outside she had mercy on them and waited a bit for them to catch up, grinning again at Aloth’s relieved sigh. It was too easy to play him. She’d have to teach him a bit to avoid having him be all to easy to manipulate.

Edér apparently wasn’t in quite as much of a hurry, and while waiting for his heavy footsteps to join them, Hildraed found her attention wandering through the miserable town. And of course, her gaze once again landed on the tree. Ever since her first meeting with the dwarf woman she drifted back to the fucking tree. There were no more souls left there, she’d checked far more than she would ever admit, and still her steps kept pulling her back there. And so now again.

The stench was in her nose before she was even aware what she was doing. Dangling, rotting limbs filled her vision as she stared up, wood and flesh melting together. All around her there were purple shimmers, whisperings that drover her mad all around the clock, but looking up there there was nothing, and somehow that was worse. She’d seen hangings before of course. She’d seen people she’d known and even liked hang much the same way. But something about this made her angrier.

This was messy. This wasn’t justice, it was a blood rage. The pirates she’d seen hung had known the risks. Perhaps they hadn’t deserved it either, some had been good people, some had absolutely asked for it, but all of them known. These people up in the tree had just lived, had perhaps never broken a law in their lives, had been punished for suffering a tragedy.

A hand landed on her shoulder and Hildraed flinched, cursing herself for losing focus. That was dangerous at the best of times, which this was not. Just this time the universe seemed to forgive her mistake though, and Edér stood next to her, chewing on his pipe. He didn’t say anything, only stood there, looking up as well, his rough hand, marred much like her own, on her shoulder.

Hildraed didn’t know what triggered it, maybe it was the sleep deprivation, maybe the weight of the last few days were finally drowning her, maybe it was that thrice-damned look of defeat in his eyes, but something in her mind clicked into place and she knew what she still had to do here. It was a terrible idea, would bare way too much to these people she barely knew, but she had to nonetheless.

“You know what my favourite song is? T’s about a boat.” Edér glanced at her, surprised and confused, but still amused.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental now? I thought you don’t do empathy?”

“Shut up, I’m drunk.” No she wasn’t, she hadn’t drunk enough of the water ale for that, but he didn’t need to know that.

“No, you’re not.” Well so much for her reputation then. She narrowed her eyes at him, glaring with all the intensity she could muster through all the aches of her body and constant buzz of soul fizzles pressing against her new senses.

“You. I don’t like you.” That didn’t seem to intimidate him at all, if anything he just got softer. Hildraed sighed and looked away again. What crew had she gotten herself here? One who was easier to play than a fiddle but had a wrong string and one who already laughed at her. And still…

“My mom always sang it when we were down on our luck. It’s about a crew saving their boat after it already sank. It was the first chant I learnt. I’ve sung it every time the universe hated me especially.” It had carried her through her 35 years of life even when nothing else had. She’d shared it every time she’d sung it, just as she’d been taught. This one thing wasn’t something to keep to herself. She had no intention of sharing anything else, the secret of her past would die with her as far she was concerned, but this one thing she’d keep throwing into the world as often as necessary. And right now it was very necessary.

With another look at Edér, and not the fucking tree, she turned around and stalked out of the pit. Aloth was standing a bit away in the shadow of a wall, trying to keep himself out of the public eye. Hildraed sat down not far from him at the edge of the pit and pulled her old lute from her back. She gave it a loving pat, before starting to pluck the strings in a familiar tune. Behind she could hear Aloth shift a little closer, in front of her could see Edér settling down next to her, but she ignored both of them.

“She went down last mid-winter in a pouring driving rain…” It had been a while since she’d last played it, and the familiar notes rang something deep in her, tugging at places within herself that she didn’t have a name for before.

“There were just us five aboard her when she finally was awash

We'd worked like hell to save her, all heedless of the cost…” It had taken her own boat to really understand it. In her youth it had been a nice story, and good tune with an inspirational message. Now as an adult it meant so much more. Her fingers danced over the strings with more elegance than she’d been able to work up in weeks, her foot tapped the rhythm, her body swayed with waves that weren’t there, her mouth formed the words that had accompanied her for so long.

“But we talked of her all winter, some days around the clock,

For she's worth a quarter million, just floatin’ at the dock

And with every jar that hit the bar, we swore we would remain…” Another foot joined in the rhythm, but Hildraed didn’t look up. Chanting was always exhilarating, but this was special in another way. She felt the words reverberate around her, felt souls stirring as the story continued to follow the melody. There was a clarity that had never been there before, an awareness that had nothing and everything to do with this song so dear to her. More souls were drawn closer, and it felt like drowning in life.

“All spring, now, we've been with her on a barge lent by a friend

Three dives a day in hard hat suit and twice I've had the bends

Thank God it's only sixty feet and the currents here are slow

Or I'd never have the strength to go below

But we've patched her rents, stopped her vents, dogged hatch and porthole down

Put cables to her, 'fore and aft and girded her around

Tomorrow, noon, we hit the air and then take up the strain…” There were people all around now, and somewhere the logical part of Hildraed knew she needed to be careful, to be aware of everyone around her, to not let herself be caught off-guard again. Unfortunately, that part was buried deep under the emotions and sensations flooding everything else. At this point she wasn’t sure what was hers anymore, she just kept playing and singing, surrounded by more whispers than ever. Whispers of pasts, of uncertain futures.

“And you, to whom adversity has dealt a mortal blow

With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go

Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain

And like the Mary Ellyn Carter, rise again!

Rise again, rise again; though your heart it be broken

And life about to end

No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend

Like the Mary Ellyn Carter, rise again!”

She played the final cord, sung the final tune, and her fingers and tongue stilled. The whispers were still there, ringing loudly in her ears and rising to a crescendo, making her head hurt even more- Wait, no, that was clapping. A few hands clapping around her, and Hildraed finally looked up, eyes a little bit clearer now. It wasn’t as many people as she’d thought, a few guests from the inn, a few people from the surrounding houses. And Hildraed stared.

It wasn’t so much that she minded the audience, quite the opposite really, she’d always enjoyed hogging people’s attention. But that had been before this stupid shit. Before she’d started noticing way too fucking much, while losing focus of everything else.

But then, as it always was, it didn’t take too long for the people to notice that the show was over, and they dispersed again, throwing strange looks in her direction that she didn’t bother to notice. She’d be gone now anyway, let them think what they want.

In the end only two were left, one on each side, though when Aloth moved next to her she couldn’t say. Her head still hurt, she was confused more than ever, and she still hated this place, and yet she felt a little lighter now. The tree was still there, and it was still abominable, but maybe now she could finally stop looking at it.

And maybe now they could finally fuck off.