#the front yard is considerably smaller than my back yard

[zebruh]

augh I was in the yard cleaning up shit for an hour and I Ache my old man body can't do what it used to

[ice-cap-k]

Hollowed Duty

I had to cut myself off with this one.

Cross-posted on AO3 here: Hollowed Duty

_______________________________________________

The clang of swords clashing filled the practice field. Every strike rang out like a bell in a glorious symphony. It was music to Puffy’s ears. 

The trainees were going through their drills. Most of them were still too green to see a real battle any time soon, but everyone started somewhere. She watched the recruits’ klutzy movements through the stone pillars lining the courtyard corridor. The sunlight glinted off the sweeping weapons, sending bright glares dancing across the far wall.

“No, no, no!” their instructor was shouting over the din. “You all need to move your feet with your cross strikes. Your foot should go backward in tandem with the downward stroke. Did any of you practice your Meyer Squares last night?  And you! I see you. Straighten your back!”

There was a mighty crash, and the ringing ceased. Someone laughed. “ATTENTION!” 

Puffy smiled as she rounded the corridor’s bend. It sounded like the man in charge had his hands full today. 

Only a few years ago, she had been in the same position. She could remember her own days of running drills in the courtyard and the mischief young soldiers-to-be could get up to in their free time. She could see him standing on the raised platform at the head of the field. There was a longsword in his hand and a shield hanging from one rung of the ladder beneath him. She idled between the pillars of an open-air arch to watch a little closer. 

Near the front of the line, three youths were picking themselves up off the ground, brushing mud off of their leather training armor. The blunted training swords in their hands were filthy. Their overseer looked exasperated as he leaped off of his platform. “You two,” he huffed, pointing to the taller couple of the three. ”That was unacceptable. Sparring practice is over for you both. About face! You can practice your guards and sweeps until I decide you’re ready to join the rest of us.”

“But sir, we were just having a bit of fun. We didn’t-”

“No buts,” their trainer snapped harshly. “Soldiers need to fight as a unit. Not amongst each other. If you can’t be trusted not to raise your weapon against one of our own during training, then why should you be trusted in the heat of battle? Now go to it.”

There was an awkward silence as the two young men broke away from the rest of the group. As they took their places off to the side on their own, a smaller voice spoke up. “I could have taken them just fine.” It was the third recruit Puffy had seen picking themselves up off the ground. They looked considerably shorter than most of their fellow trainees. Puffy could hardly make out the top of their head from where she was leaning against a pillar. 

Their trainer shook his head. “You shouldn’t have had to.”

Puffy looked back down the corridor she is supposed to be walking through. She was supposed to go address the King. He had mentioned something about a concern he had with his son. All of the highest officials and advisors would be there. It wouldn’t hurt if she was a little late. She probably wouldn’t be of much use in such a conversation anyway, so she leaned out the archway and cupped her hand around her mouth. “Is everything alright, Hbomb?”

The crowd in the training yard whirled around to look for the source of the voice. What poorly trained soldiers they were right now. So easily distracted. But their trainer scanned the outskirts of the courtyard with narrowed eyes until he spotted her. “My Captain,” he called out with a wave. “What brings you out here this early in the morning?”

“I was just passing by when I heard a bit of commotion.” Her eyes sweep over the wide-eyed recruits staring at her. They part nervously before her as she crosses through the lot of them. Awed whispers reach her ears. 

“It’s her.”

“Isn’t she-”

“Yeah!”

“The Captain of the Guard…”

“Those look like goat horns.”

“The Captain is a satyr?”

“Hooves-”

“I didn’t know she was fae.”

Typical new recruits. She rolled her eyes and smiled. 

Hbomb pounded a fist against his chest plate in salute as she approached. It was undermined by a familiar cheeky smile. “You know how trainees can get. Just a little roughhousing. It’s only week one. Give it some time and they’ll be ready to serve at your side.”

“Sounds like you’re handling it just fine.” When she pats him on the shoulder approvingly, he beams brighter. A little, harmless, mischievous thought pops into her mind. She decides to roll with it. “Reminds me of when you got into a fight on the second day of your training.” A few snorts and giggles rise up from the crowd of trainees. 

The smile drops from Hbomb’s face. His cheeks flush a few shades redder. “Captain…” he whined. “No fair.”

“Ah, I’m just messing with you,” she says, elbowing his side. “You turned out to be one of my finest students. You’re doing just fine.” When she turned back to the recruits, they looked much more relaxed. There were smiles and snickers of amusement. The tension from whatever fight had broken out a moment ago had dissipated. Her eyes go to the rather small trainee at the front of the crowd who was still covered in mud. They were frowning at the ground, one hand holding the sword hanging at their side, the other clutching a forearm where a bruise was already starting to form. Angry red blisters were visible at the center of the mark, but the skin hadn’t been broken. “Although, I am curious as to how the fight broke out,” Puffy added. 

She took a step away from Hbomb’s side, tilting her head towards the messy trainee. It took a second, but Hbomb blinked as he realized what she meant. “Aimsey,” he called gently. “How about you step forward and tell the Captain of the Guard what happened?”

Aimsey looked at the staring eyes of their fellow soldiers in training. Dark brown eyes flicked back and forth, looking uncertain as they stepped out from the edges of the group. With one hand, they reached up to snatch a knit cap off the top of their head. The motion moved their long dark hair, revealing pointed ears. “Those assholes were making fun of me for hiding my ears.” 

Puffy nodded. Her face was composed, her posture relaxed. A powerful urge to reach up and trace the edges of her own horns with her fingertips welled up within her. She squashed that urge as quickly as it appeared. Instead, she leans down in a half crouch, pressing her palms against her knees so she could be eye to eye with them. “Well, would you look at that! Another fae training to be in the King’s guard. You’ll find a few of us around here. Not many, but a few. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of working with anyone like you yet, though. If I may, what kind of fae are you?”

“I’m an Elf,” Aimsey said. There’s a glint of pride in their eyes as they raise their chin slightly. “And the best damn fighter in my family.”

Ah. An elf. Puffy had heard of a new family moving into the Kingdom. A group of refugees fleeing the Badlands. This one must be part of that family.

“But those two were saying that being an elf makes me a bad fighter,” Aimsey continued. Their brow furrowed in frustration. “I tried telling them that it doesn’t make me a bad fighter, I just have to be careful with the sword ‘cause it’s got iron in it. But they didn’t believe me. They just kept calling me clumsy, and then they took a swing at me! The nerve!”

The corner of Puffy’s mouth twitched slightly upwards. She shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, she had endured her own series of hazing attempts when she had first joined the guard. When she was younger, she had to be tough. She had to prove herself and assert her dominance from day one. Her training carried on outside of lessons. She practiced non-stop. When some of her fellow soldiers-in-training tried to lash out at her, tease her for her horns, and pick fights to stoke their own arrogant egos, she made sure she was ready for them. 

There was a reason she had risen through the ranks so quickly. Puffy was more than capable of handling herself. She had made herself strong and had good instincts. Now here she was, at the very top of the chain of command, answering only to the King himself. 

Back then she was the only one in the line-up with magic in her veins. Now she could count their number on two hands. Things hadn’t changed much over the years.

“I see.” Puffy pushed off her knees, straightening back to her full height. “Hbomb.”

Hbomb reacted instinctively. Heels clicked together, toes facing apart, shoulders rolled back, and chin tilted up as he fell into attention. “Captain!”

“At ease.” He only slightly relaxes. “I see that Aimsey has a steel sword. I thought you knew better than that.” She can see him visibly droop at her words. There’s a twinge of guilt in her chest for scolding him like that, but Hbomb was a good one. He did know better. He was someone she would consider a good friend when the armor came off and they were off duty. Someone who had learned under her and fought alongside her and came to visit her and Niki on the weekends. She doubted it had slipped his mind. “Did we not have any wood ones for practice?”

“Not today, Captain. We’re moving past drills. I want them to develop muscle memory with a weighted weapon.”

“It’s fine,” Aimsey jumped in. “I can handle it just fine. He wrapped the guard and pommel with leather and loaned me some gloves.”

Ah. Fair enough. The guilt became a little bit sharper.  Puffy supposed she shouldn’t be showing any preferential treatment. If the young recruit completed her training, she would certainly face opponents who would be wielding steel. But that didn’t mean the elf had to carry it.

It would be one less thing for the fae to concern themselves with if they weren't avoiding their own weapon. But Puffy seriously doubted that there would be a spare diamond sword lying around. So she reached for her belt and unsheathed the netherite sword on her hip. 

The polished black blade glittered in the morning light. Murmurs rose up among the trainees at the sight of such a fine weapon. One day, when they had learned everything Hbomb could teach them and took up the mantle of the King’s Guard themselves, they would receive one of their own. Netherite was standard issue for weapons, shields, and armor.

Puffy bounced the sword in her hand, carefully catching it by the fuller edge to hold the handle out to Aimsey. “Perhaps, but I think it would be better if you used this instead.”

The elf’s hands flew up to cover their mouth. It didn’t do much to muffle their gasp of surprise. They stared at the gift, wide-eyed and unsure. “I… You can’t be serious…?”

“Go on.” Puffy bounced the sword in her hand. “Might as well practice with what you’ll be using. And then you won’t have to worry about touching your own blade. I’d rather have my men focused on the enemy. Not splitting their attention.”

“But that’s yours!”

Puffy shrugged. “I’ve got another one I prefer made out of tungsten carbide. It’s better weighted than this one. ”

The hand dropped from Aimsey’s mouth to reveal a big grin plastered across their face. “For real?”

“For real. Keep it. And don’t be afraid to use it when you need it. Even outside of lessons. If anyone questions it, tell them to talk to me.” 

Aimsey let out a high-pitched noise as they reached for the sword. Something akin to a squeak. Their fingers wrapped around the handle and lifted the blade out of Puffy’s hand. As soon as Puffy let go, the elf pulled the sword close and gripped it with both hands. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” They bounced on their heels. “This is the nicest thing ever!” Immediately, the other trainees crowded around them. They whispered eagerly. Some reached to try and touch the netherite sword while others shook their shoulder or patted their back excitedly.

Puffy spared a glance at Hbomb. These recruits were his responsibility, after all. She didn’t want to undermine him. But when she looked back, he was beaming at her. There was a knowing twinkle in his eyes that instantly put her back at ease. He understood why the Captain needed to do that.

“As for the rest of you, that means anyone who spars with them will have to be careful,” she said, turning to address the crowd. “That sword has a real edge on it. Use that as an opportunity to improve your skills. Pay attention and avoid their strikes. Like I said, I’m looking for soldiers who focus on the enemy. Listen to your instructor. Follow his advice. If you push yourselves, then I should be seeing you among the rank and file in no time. Now I’m going to leave you back to your lesson. Hbomb.”

“Captain!” This time, Hbomb did not fall into attention, but he did give her a salute. 

She patted his shoulder as he passed. “Sorry for the interruption,” she said a little more quietly so that only he could hear. You’re okay with this, right?”

“It’s absolutely fine. Imagine if someone had done that for you back when you joined! But just know that if the whole sword thing goes to their head I’m going to have to take it from them…”

“Of course. Do what you have to do. Now, I’ve gotta get going. I’m kind of late for a meeting.”

He waved her off as he started making his way towards the platform at the head of the field. “Oh! Go ahead! See ya later, girlfriend.”

__________________________________________________

Stately looking officials were already streaming out the door when Puffy finally made it to the meeting room. A few scoffed, giving her a wide berth as she went against the tide. Past the threshold, the carpeted floor turned to tile. Her hooves clicked with each step, drawing the attention of one of the few people remaining. 

Wilbur smirked as he realized it was only her. He leaned back against a bare desk and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You missed the show.” 

“Sorry,” she ducked her head to avoid hitting her horns against a few crystals hanging from a low-hanging chandelier. The other few people still in the room scooped up a bundle of papers off a podium and shuffled towards the door. Eret waved at her as they passed, which she returned right before they walked out the door. “I got a bit distracted on the way here. Mind filling me in? Where is he now?”

“The King? Gone.” When she made it to Wilbur, he patted the spot on the desk next to him for her to take a seat. “Off to talk to some sort of doctor. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t have been much help here.”

She let out a good-natured snort. “Pfft. Yeah. Not unless he wants to suddenly set his kid up with combat lessons. Not really sure how a Captain of the Guard is supposed to help with family problems. You probably had some good insight for him, though, didn’t ya?”

He shook his head with a small smile. “Just because I have a kid doesn’t mean I know everything about parenting. Fundy’s still just a toddler. If anything, the King would know better since he’s been a father for longer. And look at him, worrying himself sick over nothing.”

“You still haven’t filled me in,” Puffy huffed. “Is it actually nothing?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. The King keeps insisting Prince Goerge is acting strangely. He’s worried it might be some sort of sickness, but doesn’t know what.”

“How so?”

“The kid isn’t coughing or sneezing or anything like that if that’s what you’re thinking,” Wilbur says looking up at the finely painted, vaulted ceiling. “He just keeps saying the Prince is behaving strangely. He’s quieter, more even-tempered, defiant…” He trails off, eyes gliding over the beams lining the walls. 

“I almost said that I’m surprised he’s complaining until you mentioned that last part,” she chuckles. “I’ve only ever seen the Prince. I’ve never really talked to him or spent much time with him. You’ve been around him more. What do you think?”

“He’s not… he’s not wrong.” Wilbur sighs. “Frankly, I think the kid’s gotten funnier. His back talk is something worth listening to. But he’s a child. Children do weird things all the time, right?” 

She narrowed her eyes, giving him a pointed look that made him pause. “Right. Sorry. I’m the parent here, not you.” His apologetic tone quickly went sour as he lowered his gaze to glare at the still-open door. “But neither is Eret, and boy, did they have plenty to say.”

“Eret?” Puffy flicked her ears. The sheer distaste in Wilbur’s tone had her confused. Those two were close friends. They didn’t come from your average political stock. Both Wilbur and Eret had been regular citizens who had the good fortune of catching the King’s ear. The King valued their advice regarding the regular denizens of the Kingdom and local issues. Usually, the two of them were working towards the same goals. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Normally, yes. But Prince George hasn’t been the only one acting a little differently lately.”  Wilbur’s words are laced with frustration and annoyance. “Ever since the King started worrying over his son, Eret’s been much more insistent about talking with the King. And the King’s been going along with it. Just today during the meeting, Eret suggested that the Prince could have been swapped with a changeling. A changeling! Of all things…”

“That’s absurd,” Puffy deadpanned. “The few fae in the area are all citizens. We’re miles from any entrance to the Badlands. How on Earth would one have organized a kidnapping and switch?”

Wilbur flung his hands out in front of him. “That’s what I said! But the King actually considered it. And Eret just ate up the attention and tried pushing the idea. I don’t know what’s been going on with them these past few days.”

Puffy leaned over and tried to bump her shoulder against his. The only problem was that he was considerably taller than her, so her shoulder ended up bouncing off his arm just above the elbow. “Do you want me to try talking to them?”

He shook his head. “No. You don’t have to. You’ve got plenty of work to do already. I’ll try talking to Eret next time I see them.”

_________________________________________________________

“How was your day,” Niki asked as Puffy pushed open the door to their shared flower shop. The storefront was already closed for the evening, but Niki was hard at work. She bustled around the main viewing area with armfuls of ferns. The pink-haired girl was cheerily placing the greens in artful displays of daisies, chrysanthemums, and carnations. 

“Eventful,” Puffy said, hanging her coat up on the hook by the door. “Saw the new recruits today. Looks like we’ll have an elf in our ranks soon.”

“Interesting.” Niki stopped halfway through rebundling a bouquet. “Puffy, are elves considered fae?”

“They are.”

“Oh. That is good. Another new friend. You must get tired of only ever having humans around to talk to.”

“Aw, Niki…” Puffy stepped around the counter to wrap her arms around the other girl. She squeezed Niki’s shoulders and rubbed her forearm comfortingly. For good measure, she playfully bumped one of her horns against Niki’s forehead. “I never get tired of hanging out with you. And while we’re on the subject of humans, I hope you don’t mind but I invited Wilbur and the family to join us for dinner tonight. Seemed like Wil was having a rough day.”

Niki shrugged out from under Puffy’s arm. She went back to rearranging the bundle of black-eyed Susans in front of her. “That doesn’t count. Sally and Fundy are fae.” 

“Wil’s not.” Puffy rolled her eyes. “And neither is Hbomb, or most of our friends for that matter.” As she spoke, Niki seemed to grow sadder and sadder. Puffy knew she was worried about her. The Kingdom hadn’t been the most welcoming place for a satyr like her. But Puffy would choose to stay here over going back to the Badlands any day. There were people here that mattered to her. Mostly humans. Niki had invited her as a roommate with open arms almost immediately after they had met. The girl hadn’t given so much as a second thought about Puffy being a satyr. Hbomb always had her back in the guard. Even Wilbur, who had only been in town for two years, was good fun. Although he was admittedly much closer with Niki than Puffy. They were good people. They just didn’t look like her…

Niki’s pout began to fade. “You know I just worry sometimes,” she sighs. “I feel like no matter how many stories you tell me about your own home, there are just some things I could never understand. I want you to have people you can go to who can understand, even if I can’t.”

That was what was so great about Niki. Selfless to a fault. It hurt the satyr to see her friend so torn up about something so small. “Don’t worry about me,” Puffy breathed. “I’m just fine. But… if it will make you feel any better, I’ll see if me and Sally can set up some girl talk. Just the two of us. We can get to know each other better. Maybe even talk about the Badlands.”

Finally, Niki brightened a little. She dropped the bouquet on the counter and wiped her hands off on the front of her skirt. “That would be perfect for the two of you! Here. Let me get started on dinner. Knowing them, they’ll be here soon.”  

_________________________________________________________

“At ease! Break!”

Puffy watched the pairs of recruits separate from her spot on one of the castle’s many balconies. She had just dropped off the latest patrol schedules when Hbomb’s voice drifted through an open window. It had been a few weeks since she had last seen the new recruits' training in the courtyard and was curious to see how they were coming along. 

From her spot on the balcony, she could just make out the individual figures switching places with their comrades standing on the sidelines. Hbomb’s voice was distant, but clear as he called for the next round of sparring to begin. “Commence!”

The group sprung into action at his command. The musical ringing of guard and edge crossing in battle brought a smile to her lips. Their movements were smoother than they had been the last time she had seen them. Their motions were more decisive. A few were even switching between a two-handed grip and a one-handed grip as they tried to get the best of their teammate. Hbomb must feel pretty confident in their skills if he was letting them do that already. As far as she could tell, he was doing a great job with this lot.

Before she could turn away, though, the flicker of a black blade caught her eye. Aimsey was down there in the sparring group. The elf was catching their opponent’s swing on the netherite guard, letting the steel edge get dangerously close to their arm before diving in with a jab. Their opponent managed to sidestep and dodge, but not without disengaging their own weapon. Puffy found herself watching them go back and forth, impressed with how the elf held their own. 

The elf reminded Puffy a bit of her younger self.

She flicked her ears at the sound of footsteps. “Wishing you were back down there, Captain?” Wilbur’s deep voice teased as he came to a stop behind her.

“Not exactly,” she said with a smile. “Just enjoying the show. What are you doing up here?”

His brown eyes darkened in an instant. “The King just sent me away. I was heading back down to the libraries to look for something that can help me talk some sense into him.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Eret again?” Wilbur nodded. Of course, it was. Things had gotten worse lately regarding the King, especially with regard to Prince George. The boy was becoming more and more withdrawn. She’d go so far as to say he was starting to hide from people. And the King was more and more convinced that something was wrong. A parade of doctors, physicians, child specialists, and even teachers had come through the castle, claiming they could help get to the root of the King’s worries. And one by one they all left unable to figure out what was going on. The King was practically going mad over it. He had even started asking her to post more guards outside the kid's room and send men to spy on the fae in town. She half expected he would suspect her if it wasn’t for the fact that she had devoted her whole life to protecting the royal family. 

And Eret… Puffy could now see what Wilbur was talking about. Eret was usually so nice. All smiles and warm laughs and hard work. They had been stonemason. Still was, technically. Humble and earnest and hard working. But lately, they’ve been withdrawn. Forgetting to say hi when they passed in the corridors or turning down offers to hang out in the guards’ quarters for a game of cards. And they were always with the King when Puffy saw them.

“If they’re blaming the fae again, you won’t find anything in the library. It only has human literature.”

“Damn.” With a deep breath, he ran his fingers through the bangs hanging over his eyes. “They’re talking about checking if the Prince is a changeling again. Any advice?”

“Never met one, so I’ve got nothing. I wouldn’t know how to spot one.” 

“Right. Neither did Sally…”

Puffy found her thoughts drifting back to the courtyard below. She let her gaze wander over the railing, where Hbomb was barking commands. She could see Aimsey and their partner separate and share a bow. “You know,” Puffy started to say before the thought behind it fully formed. “I might know someone who’s been to the Badlands, well, not recently, but not too long ago. I could see if they know anything about changelings…”

Wilbur immediately perked up at this. “Would you.”

“Yeah. Sure! Let me talk to them. I mean, there’s no harm in asking, even if they know nothing.”

Wilbur thanked her profusely, telling her to stop by his place and let him know how it went later that evening. She agreed and they parted ways. A few flights of stairs later, she was once more walking past the arches lining the courtyard corridor. 

The trainees were no longer in practice formations. Instead, they had scattered across the open space in small groups for their lunch break. Young men and women chatted between bites of food. Hbomb was standing at the far end of the field, discussing something with one of his pupils. 

It didn’t take her long to spot Aimsey sitting on her own under an oak tree. The elf was leaning back against the trunk, eating contentedly. The netherite sword was lying in the grass at their side. Puffy stepped over it as she approached the elf. “Hey there. How have the lessons been going?”

Aimsey’s eyes widened as she realized the Captain of the Guard was right there and addressing them. They scrambled to get up, but Puffy stopped them before they could. “Cool it. Forget the decorum for now.” 

Aimsey looked like they didn’t believe her at first, but gradually they began to relax back against the tree trunk. “Well then Captain, what brings you back to the training grounds? Do you need your sword back.” their voice sounded small. It was filled with awe.

“No. That’s yours now.” With a heave, Puffy lowered herself down to her hocks and rolled back so she was sitting beside the elf. Then she patted the sword still sheathed at her side. “I’ve got this with me now. But how about you? Haven’t gotten into any more fights, have you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Aimsey said with a smirk, before taking another bite of their lunch. 

Puffy raised both eyebrows. “Fellow trainees still giving you trouble?”

“Some of them. Some are just rude assholes. Nobody's tried taking me on alone, though. Too afraid.”

“I see. So that’s why you’re sitting over here on your own.”

At that, Aimsey seemed to duck their head sheepishly. “Well, part of it. Some of them invited me to eat with them. There are some genuinely nice people here. I just don’t have much in common with them.” One of their hands goes to the side of their head, pulling the hair out from behind their ears so it would cover the pointed ends. “I feel like we’ve got nothing to talk about.”

It was strange to Puffy, looking down at this young elf and feeling like she saw a young satyr in their place. She barely knew them, but she felt like her and Aimsey could be one and the same. She looked down at the sword in the grass. Hbomb’s words came back to her, echoing through her memories. ‘Imagine if someone had done that for you back when you joined…’

“I understand.”

Aimsey looked at her, surprised. “You do?”

Puffy half snorted, half laughed. “Is that so shocking?”

“No, I mean-” The elf nearly dropped their food as they threw up their hands apologetically. “You’re so you! You’re the Captain of the Guard. Everyone knows you’re the strongest person in the Kingdom. You cut down that assassin at the royal wedding and got that scar on your eye in the war when you fought the enemy general. Everyone looks up to you…”

“And once upon a time, I was just a satyr training in this courtyard with a bunch of humans,” Puffy added with a slight smile. That thought hadn’t seemed to occur to Aimsey. The elf’s eyes narrowed in thought as they mulled over Puffy’s words. “Believe me,” Puffy continued. “I know what it’s like to feel out of place. And yeah, there’s going to be assholes that can’t let it go that you’re different. People like that are what spurred me on to become stronger. You get into enough fights, and it really makes you start seeing the value in becoming a better fighter. And most of them have lived here their whole lives. They don’t have a clue what it’s like past these walls. Let alone the Badlands. Not much in the way of common ground when you’re trying to make friends.” Aimsey’s eyes were wide. They were watching Puffy intently as she spoke, hanging on every word.  “But, there is value in trying to make those connections with the right people.” 

Aimsey’s face immediately blanched. 

“You’d be surprised,” Puffy pushed. “Hell, some of those humans are still my best friends. Because, just like those assholes were part of the reason I became who I am today, so were the nice ones who tried to include me. If it wasn’t for them encouraging me, helping me train, defending me when I needed them, I don’t think I would have anything worth fighting for. What’s a soldier with no sense of duty or reason to fight? I’d hardly consider them a person at all.” Puffy paused for a moment. Aimsey didn’t respond right away, so she added, “If I can give one suggestion, next time your fellow recruits ask you to join them, you should give them a chance.”

“Even if we don’t have anything to talk about,” Aimsey asked quietly.

“Spending time with people tends to give you more things to talk about.”

They thought it over for a beat before nodding. “Ok. No promises, but I think I’ll try.”

“Good.” Puffy almost goes to stand back up, but then remembers that she came here for a reason. “Oh, sorry. I guess I got a bit distracted. I was actually coming to ask you something.”

Aimsey smiled mischievously. “Advice and a question from the Captain? I must be the luckiest recruit here.

“It’s a bit because of your fae background,” Puffy admitted with a shrug. “Is it true you’re from that family that came here fleeing the Badlands?”

They nodded. “Yeah. What about it?”

“During your time there, did you ever happen to meet a changeling? Or maybe hear something about it?”

“No.” They shook their head but stopped halfway. “Wait, maybe? Sort of. There had been another boy there that I used to think might have been there. He was really little. A baby even. Like, he was clearly fae. The skin on one side of his body was black and the other side was white, and he had a tail. He kind of just appeared in the Badlands one day. No parents or anything. Nobody knew what he was, so they thought he was a changeling. But we didn’t know for sure, you know?”

It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was something. “What was he like,” Puffy asked anyway.

Aimsey only shrugged. “He was a baby. Not much to go off of, but I guess he was pretty quiet. He never really laughed, but he didn’t really cry either. Mostly just stayed quiet. Does that help you?”

“It does.” This time, she goes to get up and actually makes it all the way to her hooves. She would have to tell Wilbur about this. “Thank you Aimsey.”

“No problem!”

On the other side of the courtyard, Hbomb was finishing his discussion with the trainee. It wouldn’t be long until they would get back to work. Puffy turned to go. “By the way,” she called over her shoulder. “If you ever just want to talk fae to fae, let me know. Sometimes we need to spend time with people like us.”

Aimsey’s face lit up in a bright smile. They leaned forward and waved after the retreating Captain, tucking the hair falling into their face behind their pointed ears. “That sounds really nice,” they called back. “Hopefully I’ll see you later.”

It made Puffy feel warm and fuzzy inside to hear that. Niki would be happy about that too. Maybe it was time for her to make more fae friends? Give it some time, and maybe she would see about introducing Aimsey and Sally. So Puffy trekked back towards the castle with a smile, listening to the crash of swords starting back up behind her.

_______________________________________________________________

Lightning flashes lit the halls through the castle windows. Puffy made sure to stick to the carpeted paths as she ran, hoping it would muffle the sound of her hoof steps. She already had her sword drawn in case someone spotted her.

She couldn’t see her fellow guards but could hear the clatter of their armor and angry shouts. “The Captain ran that way! Find her, quick, before she escapes. And don’t you face her alone. I don’t care how strong you think you are, she’ll kick your ass if you take her one on one.” 

They sounded close. Hopefully, they couldn’t hear her heavy breathing. Hopefully, Wilbur had made it out alright. He had been standing by the Prince’s room when the King gave the order.

A deep bell chimed somewhere in the distance. Anyone still awake and home to avoid this awful storm would hear it and know that a new law had passed. Fae were officially outlawed in the Kingdom.

She’d be arrested if they caught her. Maybe even accused of treason. It wasn’t her fault that the boy turned out to be a changeling. She had been just as shocked as anyone to see the thing posing as the prince reacted to the iron and clover. Hadn’t expected the wicked tusks or cloven hooves, and the wild fearful look of the thing as it realized it had been found out. She had even been the first to try to grab it, but it had jumped out the window. Surely it was dead on the ground outside now. Nothing could survive a fall from that high. 

But the King had lost it. His worst fear had been realized. His heir, his only son, was gone. Taken by the fae. He wanted his pound of flesh and didn’t care if the ones who paid up were innocent.

By now messengers would have made their way through the streets of the capital. Everyone would know what had happened. Fae would be ripped from their homes and workplaces. 

Despite her own predicament, her thoughts kept going back to her friends as she ran. To Niki back at the flower shop, waiting for her to come home only to be met at the door by an official looking to arrest the satyr. Of Wilbur, who had argued against checking the kid from the beginning and was a known proponent for fae. Would the fact that he’s a human keep him safe? It wouldn’t keep his wife and child safe. Were they okay? And Hbomb, Gods above she couldn’t risk running into Hbomb right now. He was a fellow guard… Well, he was a guard. She supposed she wasn’t one anymore. He would be under orders to catch her as well. 

When she passed by another window, she noticed crowds in the streets. They’re carrying torches and pointed tools, stalking down the road in disarray. People were tossing things at houses. Doors were being smashed. People with wings and antlers and horns were being dragged out into the rain. 

Mobs had already started. 

Puffy tore herself away from the window, running faster. She had to get home. She had to find Niki. She had to RUN.

And she does. She makes it pretty far too. Being Captain of the Guard has its perks, one of which used to include full access to every part of the castle. It’s huge, with countless twisty passages and secluded rooms. She knows every hallway and secret passage like the back of her hand, and she puts that knowledge to good use avoiding her fellow guardsmen. 

She makes it to the back entrance, pausing as a group of armored men rush past her. They didn’t see her. Good. She slunk out the door, sticking to the walls and taller bushes. It was slower going, but she had better coverage here than the open courtyard. There were already people out there combing the grounds for her. 

She made it halfway around the east wall when she noticed something odd in the center of the courtyard.

It was dark, but Puffy could make out a small figure lying face down in the mud. On quiet hooves, she crossed the stone-floored corridor to the edge of the grass. Nobody appeared to be around, but she didn’t like the idea of crossing the open space alone. She had her sword, but there was no cover to hide if anyone came by. If someone with a bow saw her, she’d be a sitting duck. So she hunkered her shoulders and crouched low to the ground as she moved. The rain seeped through her Captain’s coat. Water dribbed uncomfortably down her back as she closed the distance. 

The figure didn’t move. Were they breathing? It was hard to tell in the rain. When she got close enough to reach them, she grasped their shoulders to give them a good shake. Their skin was cold to the touch. Puffy’s breath hitched as she rolled them over. Their face was covered in mud, but Puffy recognized the unblinking brown eyes that had started to cloud over. The tips of Aimsey’s pointed ears were just visible through the clumps of damp hair plastered to their head. Puffy trailed her fingers over the edge of the jawline. There was no pulse. It didn’t surprise Puffy, but the confirmation that the young elf was gone made her feel a little dizzy. 

“Oh, you poor kid…”

There was blood mixed with the mud under Aimsey. It clumped up in bright red patches near their stomach. In the low light, Puffy could make out blackened skin peeling away from open wounds. Iron poisoning. Someone had cut the young soldier down with a steel sword. Speaking of which, the netherite sword Puffy had given the elf wasn’t in the loop at Aimsey’s waist anymore. It had likely been stolen.

She couldn’t take the body with her. There was nothing she could do for Aimsey now. With a heavy heart, Puffy shut the elf’s eyelids and gently laid them back on the ground.

CLATTER!

Every sense went to high alert as Puffy whipped around. Her hand went to the hilt of her sword while her head hunkered down to show off her horns. It had been a long time since she had to charge, but her curved horns could be just as deadly as a sword if she got a good enough running start. 

“Puffy?”

“Puffy!”

Puffy blinked and raised her head when she realized that she knew those voices. “Hbomb? Niki…” Her two friends were standing at the edge of the courtyard entrance. Niki looked disheveled. Her hair was a mess of fly-away strands poking out of a ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed, and the traveling cloak hanging from her shoulders was soaked and muddy. Beside her, Hbomb was breathing heavily, gripping a torch that struggled to remain lit in the pounding rain. His armor looked dented and scraped as if he had already been in a scuffle. There was a dark spot on his cheek, but in the dim light, Puffy couldn’t make out if it was a bruise or blood. They both were staring at her with wide eyes that flickered in the light of the sputtering torch.

“I’m so glad you’re ok!” Niki’s voice broke as tears sprang to her eyes. The pink-haired girl launched herself away from the entrance, crossing the courtyard in an instant. The air was knocked out of Puffy’s lungs as Niki slammed into her. She almost would have fallen if the pink-haired human hadn’t wrapped her up in a tight hug. “I was so worried,” she hiccupped, burying her face into Puffy’s shoulder. “Hbomb told me about the ban. There are mobs and people are getting hurt. We came as soon as we could. I thought- I thought-”

Puffy found her own fingers tightening around the fabric of Niki’s cloak. “Shhhh… It’s okay. I’m okay,” she soothed. “I just ran into a little trouble getting out of the castle.” 

It got a little warmer as Hbomb approached. The heat of his torch chased away the chill of the rain. Puffy stiffened as her eyes met his. “We need to get you out of here,” he says quickly. “There’s riots in the streets. The people are out attacking any fae they can find, and there are not enough guardsmen available to stop them. We’re too scattered.”

Puffy let out a relieved sigh as she realized she could trust him. Of course she could. This was HBomb. How could she ever have thought otherwise? 

He caught sight of Aimsey and covered his mouth. His big eyes immediately went glassy. “Oh no. Is that-” 

“Yeah,” Puffy cut him off. “It is. There’s nothing we can do for them,” she said bitterly. 

She brought her attention to the castle looming above them. The insides would still be buzzing with panicked people, bloodthirsty guardsmen out for her head, and a grieving father who couldn’t think past his own need for revenge. There wasn’t anything left for her here anymore, or the people she loved.

She reached out and wrapped her hand around Hbomb and Niki’s hands. They let her pull them towards the way they had come from. “Come on guys. Let’s get out of here.”

[in-ky]

An Old Scent [1] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Eventual smut, A/B/O dynamics, cheating, age gap, Negan

A/N: yay first fic! this will have four parts! i hope everyone enjoys. this is an au where the apocalypse never happened. 3.2k words

I squinted as I stepped out into the bright Virginian sun. People swarmed all around me, creating the steady hum of airport ambience that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I had just gotten off a four-hour flight home from college and all I wanted to do was shower and curl up in bed. But I couldn't. Oh, no. First I had to endure a fun thirty-minute car ride with my best friend since second grade. I scanned the curb in front of me for her small black car and caught sight of a tall woman waving at me. I grinned and walked forward, tugging along my baggage behind me.

"Ugh, it's so good to see you, Bee." I sighed as I enveloped my friend into a large hug. She let out a laugh and swayed us gently.

"It's good to see you, too," She hummed, rustling my hair "I forgot how short you were." Bee was an alpha; tall, muscular, and very quick to remind me of our differences. Of course, it was in a 'joking with love' kind of way. I was an omega; small, rounded, and very quick to punch her gently in the abdomen.

"I forgot how much of a jerk you are." I quipped, huffing and wheeling my bag to her trunk.

"Oh, come on, babes, don't be like that," Bee laughed, opening the driver side door and waiting for me to walk back to my side. "Now get in, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

---

"How are your heats going?"

"Jesus, that's what you want to start with?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Bee shrugged.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," She clarified, turning out onto the street "I'm just saying, I know they've gotten pretty bad as we've gotten older. Did you try out those tips I sent you?"

"Yea, I did," I said quietly, looking at the trees rushing by on the side of the highway "They worked for a while but..."

"But you need an alpha," Bee sighed, finishing the sentence for me.

"That's the plan for this summer," I agreed "Might finally settle down."

"You know, I'm always here if you need me." She said with a wink. I scoffed at her.

"I'm not that desperate," I laughed, shoving her lightly "Not yet, at least."

"Anyone take your interest back in Colorado?"

"Not really," I hummed, tilting my head in consideration. "There was this one guy. We dated for a few months but towards the end he became a total knot-head. He couldn't keep his hands off me. I thought it was cute at first, but after I started to miss a few classes...well, that shit got old pretty quickly." Bee made a disgusted noise.

"Ugh, men," She grunted, wrinkling her nose "I'm glad I never went through that phase. I'm perfectly happy with chicks, thank you very much. Much less of a pain in my ass."

"Oh, they're not so bad," I smirked "I think it's just alphas in general." She glared at me momentarily and I stuck my tongue out at her. We drove in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. That was always something I loved about Bee. We never had to fill every second with chatter, we could just exist together in the same space and be just as content. She started to hum along to the song that buzzed softly from the radio and my eyes tracked a hawk. Soon enough, we reached our exit and Bee turned the car onto a smaller road, starting the countdown to my arrival home.

"Are you excited to see your dad?" Bee asked, killing the silence.

"Yea, I am," I smiled. We hadn't always had the best of relationships, but the distance that college gave had done wonders for us. A few texts and calls had worked perfectly for us. When he invited me to stay a few weeks during summer I gladly accepted. I wanted to see just how well our relationship had strengthened. Plus I knew he really needed someone.

"How's he doing?" There was genuine concern in Bee's voice. A few months ago, my mom had revealed that she had been having an affair with one of dad's work buddies. She left with him and took my brother down to Georgia.

"I think he's okay. But you know dad, he's not really an emotions guy. He was starting to get some closure but then the divorce papers came in the mail. That really hurt him," I told her, twisting a strand of my hair around my finger. "I just don't know how Lori could do that to him, you know? She won't even let Carl up to visit. The new baby's cute, though. Looks just like Shane." Bee hummed in acknowledgement.

"Well, tell him I said hi, alright?"

"Will do." A few more seconds of silence passed. Until we stopped at a light. Bee looked up and spotted a billboard that sported a very familiar, very handsome face.

"Holy shit!" Bee shrieked, slapping my arm.

"Ow, what the hell?" I hissed, grabbing my shoulder. She pointed frantically at the sign.

"That guy! Isn't that, shit- the hell's his name?" Pulling my eyes from my lap, I let them settle on the object of her excitement. All of the color drained from my face. It was an add for a law firm. There was an old geezer posing proudly on the left, and to his right, was the man who haunted my wet dreams for the majority of high school.

"Negan." I gulped.

"Yea, your dad's hot friend you never shut up about." Bee groaned, pressing on the gas and moving us away from the sign. Negan was a lawyer/make-shift-law-professor and baseball coach at the local community college. He had a sort-of contract with my dad's department. Many times I had come home after school to the two of them puzzling out a case on the kitchen table. Negan was an alpha of alphas, something that got my little omega heart (and other things) pumping until I couldn't breath. His humor and dominating persona made me blush a deep crimson color any time I saw him. Sometimes I would spend hours sitting on the stairs just listening to him talk to my dad. His voice was something else. I had gushed to Bee about him countless times during our times at high school. But I hadn't seen him since my graduation party.

"I wonder if you'll see him again," Bee teased, nudging me again to pull me out of my trance of memories. Then, she did a dramatic gasp. "What if he's your mate?" It was my turn to slap her in the shoulder.

"He's older than my dad!" I squealed, burying my now-blushing cheeks in my hands.

"You're an adult I don't think it matters."

"I think he's engaged."

"Just 'cause there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't scoooore." Bee pulled a face at me and I returned her grimace.

"Whatever, you're lucky we're almost at my house." I huffed, falling back into my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Oh, yea, omega? What are you gonna do?" I rolled my eyes as she laughed off my grumpiness. We rolled to a stop in front of my driveway and a leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks so much, Bee, I really appreciate you," I grinned, popping open the door.

"No problem, babes," She winked, unlocking the trunk "But I swear to the gods, you better fucking call me and give me updates on everything, especially if you run into Mr. Hotcakes." I rolled my eyes once more and promised her I would before closing the door. I retrieved my bag and gave her a wave as she drove down the street. When she was out of view, I took a deep breath and turned around, walking up the driveway to the front door.

I knocked heavily on the dark oak door. While I waited for someone to answer, I decided to look around at the home I had left behind about a year ago. My childhood home had changed now and then over the years, but there were still some iconic pieces of memories in the front yard that could never be forgotten. My personal favorite was Eddie the garden gnome. He was a standard gnome: small and stout with a large white beard that led into a pointy red hat. His eyes were shut and his mouth was curved into a smile. However, he was missing a nose. I grinned as I recalled the unfortunate mishap that caused Eddie to become deformed. I was about twelve, and carl was five. He had gotten a kid's baseball from Negan for his birthday and had begged me to teach him how to play, since I was on the local softball team at the time. I relented and set it up in the front yard. Eddie was our outfielder. Eddie didn't have a mitt. Well, he did, but it was his face. Carl absolutely smashed the first pitch I tossed at him and hit poor Eddie right in the face, shattering his round, pink nose into pieces. Carl bursted into tears and I had to promise him that he did not in fact kill our precious protector of our house. Lori ran out frantically and comforted her son before giving me a thorough chewing out for damaging Eddie. We never used the set again. That she knew of, anyways. Negan always let us play in his yard, though. I smiled at the memory, but the clicking of the lock to the door pulled me from my train of thought. The door swung open and I was met with the smiling face of my father.

"Sweetie, I'm so glad you made it!" He laughed, pulling me in swiftly and squeezing me tight.

"It's good to see you too, dad." I croaked, letting out a small chuckle. I tapped on his shoulder as a signal for him to let go.

"How was the flight?" He asked as he stepped out to grab my bag. I told him it was good but that the screaming kids had given me a bit of a headache. He gave a small laugh and gestured for me to enter. I thanked him and he rolled my bag in behind me. We exchanged a few words but as soon as I walked through the kitchen into the doorway of the living room I was hit by a wall. Not literally, no, but rather a wall of overwhelming scent. It was a delicious swirl of campfire and whiskey, with a hint of cigarettes and leather. I paused for a moment, my eyes forced closed and my lungs taking a deep breath of the intoxicating air. Colors danced across my eyelids. My whole body was flooded with warmth and my toes tingled. I felt safe and calm, and there was something else; something deep within my stomach that I couldn't quite identify, something I never felt before. My eyes snapped open when I felt my father's hand rest firmly on my shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind, sweetie, but I invited company over while I was waiting for you to arrive," He smiled at me. I got a good look at him then. He looked the same, his hair was a bit longer, a bit greyer. But his eyes were different. They were darker, rounder, rawer. I gave a soft smile and told him it was fine. He guided me into the living room. It was then I realized where that deadly smell was coming from. Or, rather, who it was coming from. "Negan, you remember my girl." In that moment, I held my breath as I scanned Negan. He looked fucking amazing, just as he always had. Perfect dimples guarding a charming smile, all surrounded by a gorgeous salt and pepper beard. His hair was longer than it was when I had left, not slicked back, but it still framed his face perfectly. Negan's body was draped casually over the sectional couch, legs crossed at the ankle on the ottoman. His arms were on the top of the couch and his wrists were dangling. He knew he was hot. That bastard. I suddenly became aware of his eyes raking over my form and I shifted from one foot to the other.

"'course I do, Rick," Negan said, voice silky and deep. I couldn't help but let a small shudder run down my spine. All I wanted to do was kneel down in front of him and curl up at his feet. I forced my inner omega down, shaking the thought from my head. "How could I forget the little slugger?" I cringed inside at the nickname. Especially the use of the word 'little'. I begged that he didn't still see me as the kid down the street. Instead as a grown woman. A grown omega.

"Hi, Negan." I greeted with a small smile, swallowing to relieve my dry throat. Now that I was next to him, his scent was clogging all my senses. I gripped onto the couch and lowered myself onto the cushion, hoping to ground myself. It helped, just barely. My heart was pounding, my instincts telling me to submit to this man in front of me. Why, though? Why now? He had never smelled this good before. No alpha had. Was I getting close to my heat? I did have a stomach ache, but that could be from Negan alone.

"Hey, sweetheart. How's college goin'?" Negan asked, sipping on his drink. He kept eye contact with me the whole time. Rick handed me a glass of soda and I thanked him.

"It's good!" I said after taking a sip, thankful for the hydration in my coarse throat "Towards the end it got a little hectic, but I was able to stay on top of everything, thankfully."

"You're studying film, right?" He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"That's right," I grinned, crossing my legs to relieve some of the pressure the movement caused to build up in my lower abdomen "You still teaching law?" This caused him to chuckle. Literally music to my ear.

"If that's what you want to fuckin' call it." Negan sighed, falling back to his original position, hands resting in his lap "I talk, the kids kinda listen. I just do it for the coaching job, really. You remember how much I love that damn sport, right?"

"Baseball?" I asked, raising a brow "You mean the only thing you talked about at all of the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners you were invited to?"

"Touché." Negan grinned. Goddamn that smile. Butterflies erupted in my chest, beating hard against my ribcage, begging to throw myself at his chest and bury myself in him. Rick cleared his throat and smiled at me to get my attention.

"I want to know more about your college experience!" He beamed, rubbing a hand through his beard "Any special alphas you've got your eyes on?" I heard Negan choke slightly on his whiskey. A small bubble of pride rose in my chest. I laughed at his words.

"Dad, I don't think Negan wants to hear about my love life."

"Shit, doll, I don't mind," He grumbled "I don't get to hear any drama now-a-days"

"What do you mean?" I giggled, tilting my head "You argue for a living. Your job is to literally deal with drama."

"Yea, but that's complex drama," He growled, waving his hand dismissively "I wanna hear simple, schoolgirl 'he loves me, he loves me not' kind of bullshit."

"Well sorry to disappoint," I snorted, running a hand through my hair "but no, there's no one I have an eye on." Dad's smile turned into a frown.

"Shame." I heard Negan whisper. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it. It was quiet, barely above his breath, and he said it while twirling his whiskey, following the words with a large gulp.

"You really should start looking, dear." Dad said with a sigh "You know it only gets harder as you get older."

"Dad please, I don't..." I cut him off "Listen, I appreciate you trying to understand this stuff, I really do, but I don't really want to talk about it with my father." He looked at me with an understanding smile.

"Sure," He nodded "But if you ever need anything, anything at all, you just let me know, alright." I nodded.

"Well, this sure has been fun, Ricky-boy," Negan grinned, getting to his feet and stretching his arms far above his head. "We do have that big court case in the mornin', though, and I need my shut-eye."

"Big case, eh?" I asked, rising from my seat as well. Dad nodded and excitement sparked in his eyes.

"You should come! It's an open court and I would love for you to see what I do. I know you always wanted to as a kid, but your mom made you wait until you were older. Well, now's the perfect time!" He rambled, grasping my shoulders.

"W-Well, I dunno, I don't want to be a distraction," I stumbled, taken aback by my father's display of enthusiasm. I turned to Negan, as if asking for permission. He just laughed.

"Oh-o, doll, I don't get distracted. Not in there, not anywhere. Don't you worry about a goddamn thing. You should come, Rick seems like he really wants you to."

"Okay, then," I grinned, nodding in commitment "I'll see you there in the morning then." I looked up to Negan and we locked eyes for a brief moment. But in that moment, something within me quivered. He brushed up against me and smirked down at me.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart. It was nice to see you. You're lookin' great." It took all my willpower not to let out a whimper as he walked past me, taking his glorious scent with him.

My dad said that he should also get some rest, but that I could stay up as long as I wanted to. I was pretty wiped from my flight so I opted to follow him up the narrow staircase, tugging my bag behind me. I hugged him goodnight and stepped into my room. It hadn't been touched since I left last summer. The forest green bedspread was still perfectly tucked into the mattress and two plump pillows were perched at the head of the bed. My muscles ached for the soft release of sleep. I put my suitcase down by my dresser, taking a moment to smile at some old photos of me and Bee as kids. I showered and brushed my teeth before getting into the comfortable bed. I looked up at the ceiling and giggled softly at the glow-in-the-dark stars shining overhead. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, but for some reason, all of my dreams were plagued by the sweet smell, sound, sight, feeling, and taste of Negan.

[the-superior-stark]

Neighbor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Neighbor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: AU, Neighbor!Steve Rogers, Married (Y/N), Cheating, Smut, Breeding Kink, Marking, Oral (f receiving), Edging. Fingering, Choking

You can request HERE!

Prompt list can be found HERE and HERE!

****

As I pulled into my driveway in the pouring rain I noticed my new neighbor struggling to get his front door opened. I rolled my window down and yelled, “Hey Steve, do you need any help?” He looked up from the frustrating door lock to my car, “I think Sam has my set of keys and I have his,” he offered in explanation.

I knew of Sam seeing as how he occasionally popped by to Steve’s house and I had a few encounters with him. Steve and him had just been out together this morning, probably when the mix up happened.

“You can come in to my house for a little while and wait for Sam to bring you your house key,” I offered, with little hesitance. Steve looked unsure but willing to get out of the relentless rain. 

“If it’s no problem to you, ma’am. I would greatly appreciate it.” The soaking wet man said with a gentle smile. “No problem at all, just let me get a few things from my car.” 

Steve walked over to my car and offered to grab my few bags from the grocery store. I wanted to protest but my cheeks were growing hot and my eyes were glued to his chest and the water droplets falling off of his blonde hair in waves. 

Me and him walked up to my front door and he stood back as I unlocked the door. I could feel his presence behind me and it was slightly intimidating but nice nonetheless.

I opened the front door and said, “Excuse the mess, I haven’t exactly had time for a deep clean with work and all and my husband sure as hell doesn't clean.” He gave me a questioning glance and I felt the need to explain myself with a short, “Late work at the office and all.”

He give a curt nod and followed me as I shuffled into the kitchen. “Can I just place these on the counter.” He asked. “Yeah, sure that’s fine.” I agreed and gave him a soft smile.

I had always thought about having this man in my house but now my fantasies just made me feel awkward. I had always had some type a thought about him that I shouldn’t. I mean who wouldn't? He is literally a perfectly created science experiment. Everything about him screams perfect.

“I’ll go and fetch you some of my husband’s lounge clothes and a towel. You’ve got to be cold in those clothes.” 

I heard him thank me as I walked briskly to the bedroom I shared with my husband. I almost felt like I needed a break from the handsome man sitting in my living room. It felt as though looking at him made me feel intoxicated. Every little thing he did made my breath hitch in the back of my throat. 

I grabbed a thin white t-shirt and a pair of joggers. Both were probably too small for Steve but they were the best I could offer him at the time. My husband definitely had a smaller stature than Steve so we had no clothes around the house to accommodate a man his size.

After I grabbed his clothes out of the drawers, I crossed the hall into the bathroom and quickly grabbed a towel and made my way back into my kitchen. I found Steve standing in the same place I left him, looking mostly nervous. I assumed it was because he was in a house of a girl he barely knew.

I handed him the clothes and towel I had grabbed. “Thank you for these, (Y/N). Can you point me to your bathroom so I can change?” I nodded and pointed down the hall and said, “First door on your left. If you need an extra towel there are some under the right side of the sink. Just holler if you need anything.” He nodded and made his way to the bathroom.

The house was decently sized but still small enough that I could hear every cluttered sound coming from the bathroom. Every little noise Steve made. It almost felt comforting to have someone in the house after all this time. When I was home my husband wasn't and when he was home I was at work. Hearing somebody making noise brought me a great sense of happiness as I made busy work by putting away the few groceries.

I heard the bathroom door open and Steve come out. He walked into the kitchen with his wet clothes. I could see every muscle ripple and felt like if he took a big enough breath the shirt would rip into. There was a greek god standing in my kitchen and I looked like a deer in the headlights as I drank in his appearance.

I grabbed his previous clothes from him and dropped them into one of my plastic grocery bags and placed it on the counter. 

Any nervousness of his seemingly disappeared as he let out a sigh and said “Like what you see, doll.” I gulped and turned back around to what I was doing. “Guess that was a yes.” Steve chuckled out.

“It wasn’t a yes or a no, Steve.” I said, slight grimace in my tone as I wanted to say yes, but knew it wouldn't be right due to circumstances. “(Y/N), I know it’s a yes. You act like I can’t see the way you gawk at me when I do yard work or check the mail or leave for work. I see the way you look at me. Don’t try and hide that from me, doll.”

As he said what he had wanted to say, he had gotten increasingly closer to me. It felt like he was cornering me and the only thing I could do was stammer out incoherent words. Stumbling over everything I wanted to say.

“You look so pretty, all nervous over my words. You’re beautiful, doll.” Any regard I had over keeping my composure flew out of the window the moment I heard those words. I wanted him. A part of me had always wanted him since we moved into this neighborhood. 

I always had my eyes on him any chance I got. He was like a drug to me. I needed him, in anyway he would possibly give me.

“Okay, maybe I do find you extremely attractive but I have a husband.” I said trying to remind myself more so than him. “Baby, I see that relationship of yours. You spend no time together. If you’re home, he's not, and vice versa. Just let it happen. He has a girlfriend anyways.”

I went slack jawed at the mention of my husbands so called ‘girlfriend’. I mean I knew, it was just the fact that even Steve knew. I’m sure everyone knew the marriage was a sham if even he could see it. 

“Don’t worry, darling. I don’t think everyone knows. I just happen to be quite observant of you and your little life.” Suddenly relief washed over me but that didn’t last long. 

Steve had snaked his hand up to my face to wipe away a stray tear I didn't even know was running down my face. I guess it’s the sheer anticipation and stress this situation was giving me.

On one hand, I had once loved my husband and he loved me. Now the marriage was more viewed as a partnership. I cooked and bought groceries and he kept the bills paid with occasional help from me. We both spent our own money and rarely slept in the same house together, more or less the same bed. 

On the other hand, it had been so long since I had any attention. Physically or emotionally. My husband gave me nothing but a home to keep my things in. There was no love, passion, or connection. I longed for something like that. Something like that from one person only. That person being, Steve.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head?” Steve questioned. “I want to know everything and more about you. But first I want to explore you.”

When he got no response from me, he took matters into his own hands, stating “If you want me to stop, say the word. I leave you alone and we can never talk about it again, but something tells me you don't want that.”

My brain had finally caught up with the situation. I was very excited for what Steve had in store for me and I believed that he would take care of my every need.

Steve backed me up against the counter and traced a finger down the side of my face gently whispering about how pretty I was. “I wanna do so many things to you, doll. You gonna let me?”

I gave him a slight whimper and nod in return, begging silently in my head for him to do something. Steve took my nod into consideration and apparently he needed more. “I need some words, baby doll. Need to hear you say it. Need you to beg me. Or I walk out that door right now.”

A part of me knew he wasn’t walking out of that door anytime soon, seeing as how it was still pouring rain and Sam had yet to even respond about bringing him his keys. All rational had left my mind though. My thoughts were swimming in my head and my arousal was making me spin. 

“Please, Steve. I’ll be so good. I’ll do anything you want. Just touch me. Have your way with me.” The blonde man towering over me seemed satisfied with my answer and began an assault on my lips.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” I whispered against Steve’s lips. Almost scared that if I said it too loud it would all stop. “I know, darling. Me too. For so long. Since I saw you waltz up your driveway in that black sundress for the first time. You were so perfect. Perfect for me to ruin.” 

I whimpered into Steve’s mouth and he took his opportunity to slip his tongue between my parted lips. He picked me up and placed me on the counter and began to trace his lips down my neck leaving slight love bites in his wake. “I want you to wake up and see just what I’ve done to you. I want you to remember me when you look in the mirror.”

He stood back and admired his work and began to run his hands over my soft thighs. His hands seemed to be dangerously close to where I needed him most. I tried to squirm but his strong hand kept me in place. “Where are you going, (Y/N). I need you to stay still so I can do what I want. Isn’t that what you want?” 

I nodded at his question and he continued to run his hands over my thighs. admiring me. His hand ghosted over where I needed him most and I let out a sigh. “You’re so eager for me. Tell me what you want me to do.” Steve said. “I want you to touch me.”

He complied easily with my request and dipped his fingers under the waistband of my leggings. He rubbed his fingers over the material of my underwear, slightly teasing me. My breathing sped up rapidly as I waited for him to pull my panties to the side. 

He pulled them to the side and ran a finger through my folds. “You’re so wet already? Does he not touch you like this?” He questioned. I shook my head no in response. “You’re the only one who has touched me like this in a long time.” Steve smirked and said, “Good, keep it that way.”

He sunk a finger into my core with little resistance and used his thumb to rub soft circles over my clit. “I can take more.” I said. “You’ll take what I give you.” Steve responded. I nodded my head and let him continue his work.

He pushed a second finger in and curled them in an upwards motion. I let out a soft moan. As he continued curling his fingers, I felt myself teetering on the edge. “I’m close.” The moment those words left my lips, Steve retracted his fingers and pulled his hand out of my leggings briskly.

I let out a soft whine. “Don’t be disappointed, I’ll give you what you want soon. But I want you to cum on my face. I want to taste you.”

I took no time in shimmying out of my leggings and panties and dropped them somewhere on my kitchen floor. Steve picked me up and carried me towards the hallway. “It’s the second door on your right, if you’re looking for my bedroom.” Steve nodded and continued his path. 

When he reached my bedroom, he placed me on the bed. He pulled his shirt off and hovered over me. “I took mine off, so I feel as if it’s only fair if you do the same.” I pulled my shirt off and began to unclasp my bra. “Leave the bra, I want to take it off of you when I’m ready.”

Steve began nipping his way down my chest and stopped at my bra to tug my nipple through his teeth over my bra. I let out a soft moan and raised my hips to meet his, needing more from him. “Be patient.” 

He continued nipping and kissing his way down my body and reached right below my belly button. I thought he would tease me but instead he delved right in-between my folds. He licked up my pussy skillfully and looked up at me through his eyelashes. He raised his head and said, “You taste so sweet. Wish I could stay here all day.” He then continued by drawing light circles over my clit with his tongue. 

I was a mess underneath him and raised my hand to curl into his blonde hair. He looked up briefly and I could see my juices gleaming in his scruff. I let out the softest groan at how his face looked covered in my wetness. I wish I could see him like this every day. 

His tongue dipped into my entrance and then he quickly replaced his tongue with two fingers. Working them inside of me. My legs were starting to shake and I was getting closer to my release. “I want you to let go for me. Cum for me.” That was all it took for me to let go. It had been so long since I had an orgasm ripped from me and I was still sensitive from being edged earlier.

“You look so pretty when you cum. Love that I can make you feel so good.” Steve said as he adjusted his position to give me a kiss. He grinned his hips down into mine as the kiss got more heated and let out a soft moan at the feeling of my heat pressing against his cock.

“Can I fuck you? I wanna feel you wrapped around my cock. So tight, just for me.” Steve said and I nodded and palmed him through the pair of joggers. “I’m gonna fuck you raw. Fill you up and make you mine. Mark your walls with my cum. Nobody will ever touch you like this again. Only me.”

I felt dizzy at the idea of that and quickly tugged at his joggers. I had only just now realized that I had not given him any boxers earlier and felt the heat rise to my cheeks. I pulled his joggers down and watched as he springed out of his confines. 

He pulled his joggers off the rest of the way and hovered over me with one hand near the side of my head and the other pumping his cock. He placed himself at my entrance and I nodded at him, signaling that he could begin easing in. 

He slipped past my entrance with ease and pushed the rest of the way in. Pain twisted over my features, as it had been a while since I had fucked anybody. Especially somebody of his size. He gave me a moment to adjust and soon the pain turned into an overwhelming sense of pleasure.

I nodded and he thrusted in and out of me at an agonizingly slow pace. “Faster please, Stevie.” I said letting the nickname slip and begging for more. He complied and brought a hand around my neck and slammed into me at a quick and harsh place.

I felt him brush against my sweet spot and let out a loud moan. Steve noticed and angled himself where he brushed against it every time. “You’re so fucking tight. Squeezing me like that. I love the way you make me feel.” 

I moaned and gripped his cock even tighter, feeling the heat pool in my stomach. “I’m so close. Please don't stop.” I begged out to him. He did anything but stop and set a much faster pace. “I’m close to. I’m going to cum in you. Fill you up so full. So good. Want you to go to sleep dripping.” I moaned out at the idea.

“C’mon baby doll, I'm so close. Just a little bit longer.” I nodded and he grunted signaling just how close he was. Steve nodded and as I felt him painting my walls with his cum it triggered my release. He helped us ride out our highs and stayed like that for a moment.

He rolled off of me and took in the moment. Giving out sweet praises to me about how good I was for him and how much he enjoyed himself. Once we both came back to reality, Steve looked over to me.

“I don't want this to be a one time thing. I want you. All of you. Anything you’ll give me. Anytime and anywhere. I love you and have for quite some time.” Steve confessed.

“I love you too, Stevie.”

[ateezmakemeweep]

line without a hook.

mingi x reader; lovers to strangers au

word count: 13k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death)

you could personally never understand one’s desire to run as far away from their hometown as they could.

maybe it’s because you’ve had the privilege of growing up in a beautiful, prosperous place, with cozy winters, amazing festivals and snowfalls on the frozen lake before spring came and melted it away.

maybe it’s because you have fond memories tied back to this picturesque place, shops and restaurants surrounding the lake in a way that almost seemed too magical to really exist.

you’ve met so many different people purely because of that sight, men and women of different cultures and backgrounds always so eager to take in your hometown’s natural beauty.

fortunately for you, the lake ran right through your yard and acted as a place of solace where you could get away from everything in the busy, touristy town.

a place you went when you were feeling happy, sad, angry or when, truthfully, you didn’t know how to feel.

it’s also where you first met your boyfriend, one of the many come and go visitors, who introduced himself as mingi.

except he had walked right through your backyard like he owned the place, a small smile on his handsome face as he took in the sight of the frozen water.

he looked at it with such wonder and fascination, like he’d never seen anything like it before in his life; and you can remember that night, even with how you’re feeling right now, that he looked at you the same way.

it’s the only thing that reminds you, at some point, you two must have really loved each other.

two years ago - december 13th

you were hunched over your desk finishing the last of your final essay, only a page left before you could throw every syllabus away and rejoice at having two months of winter break.

it was a chilly night but you couldn’t help but be outside on the porch, a big warm sweater and fuzzy socks on as you read over your work so far.

you’d gotten used to the sounds of nature, the chirping of birds, pitter patter of animal feet and even the loud, slightly terrifying barks of deer.

but the footsteps crunching on the leaves in your driveway definitely weren’t those of chipmunks or rabbits, your strained neck craning over to see a tall figure walking right past your porch and deep into your backyard.

strangely enough, whether it be the frigid temperatures getting to you or the stress of finishing this paper, you weren’t panicked; the man technically wasn’t even on your property, he was right outside of it along the grass that turned to decking.

so you continued to make revisions and edit your paper silently, your eyes fluttering up ever so often to check on the mysterious, tall figure. his shoulders were broad and his hair was messy, that much you could tell from your spot on the porch.

when five minutes past, then ten, then twenty, and he had still yet to move or realize he was in someone’s yard, you decided to investigate - because one, how long could he really stare at this frozen mass of water and two, your head was pounding from looking at this stupid document.

so without an ounce of fear or hesitation, you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body and made your way down to the man.

your slippers were loose so the last remaining bits of snow were seeping into your socks, a slight grimace on your face when the coldness touched your skin.

the sound of crunching snow caused him to turn around, his lips quirking up into a small smile when you came into view.

it was when you got closer that you saw just how attractive he was, pale skin that glowed, plump lips that were slightly chapped and messy hair that looked even better up close.

he looked different than most locals and tourists around here, many of them pastel wearing men who wouldn’t dare stick an earring in their skin.

but the man in front of you had a completely different vibe, earrings and chains and a gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest despite the freezing temperatures tonight.

a few minutes of silence pass, neither him nor you concerned about filling it; it seemed as if he could’ve stared at the lake just as long as you could’ve wondered why the hell he liked it so much.

“aren’t you cold?”

more silence passed and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear your blurted out question.

but then you discover he did when he looked at you with a smirk, the snow crackling underneath him as he shifts to take in your big sweater and pink slippers.

“no.”

it’s a short and simple response but his voice is somehow incredibly warm, looking at you with a twinge of soft light in his eyes before he opens his mouth again.

“why? are you?”

a confused smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head, looking over his bare (muscular) arms conspicuously.

“no. but i’m not wearing a t-shirt in december.”

he sends a smile your way, his large body turning allowing you to fully take in just how big he is. you feel incredibly small next to him and it should probably make you nervous - a large, stranger unwelcomed in your yard and staring down at you.

but there’s a weird sense of tranquility over both of you in this moment, the moon shining off the frozen lake as his gaze meets yours.

“well that’s a good thing,” he hums, your eyebrow quirking up before he continues. “because i don’t have a jacket to give you.”

a surprised chuckle leaves your mouth that has a smile spreading across your face and he feels his own doing the same at the sight of it.

“what makes you think i’d take a jacket from a stranger?”

his eyebrow raises after a few seconds of pondering the rhetorical question, his large hand suddenly coming between your bodies.

“my name’s mingi. i’m staying a few houses over at my aunt’s for the holidays.”

your lips purse together as you wrack your brain for which neighbor it could possibly be, remembering that the woman who brought you left over lasagna for thanksgiving mentioned her nephew was coming for christmas and new years.

she didn’t mention that her nephew looked like this or that he went onto the property of anyone he pleased.

“i’m y/n,” you say, taking your smaller hand in his cold one before a teasing smiles crosses your face. “and we’re actually standing in my backyard. so thank you for trespassing so politely, mingi.”

his eyes widen as an embarrassed look crosses his face, the small hint of pink on his cheeks just as endearing as it is humorous.

“i- i’m so sorry, oh, my god,” he chuckles out, your cold hands still intertwined. “my aunt said i could take the first road i saw to get to the lake. that there was a better view down here than from her house.”

and you can see in his eyes the exact moment his next sentence came into his mind, like he thought it was gonna be the smoothest and coolest thing he’d ever said.

“and it looks like she was right.”

the loud laugh that bubbles out of you is uncontrollable, mingi’s quickly following as his cheeks turn even more pink.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself,” he mumbles sheepishly, sounding completely unapologetic as he finally pulls his hand away from yours; you try not to think about how much colder your hand feels now, quickly sticking it in the pocket of your sweater to compensate.

“right,” you quip, a tiny giggle leaving you as you crane your neck to meet his gaze. “but really, you should probably get a jacket if you’re gonna be out here a lot. you don’t wanna get sick and it can get pretty cold here.”

“will do,” he hums, his eyes roaming yours and making your heart jump in your chest; he really is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

there’s a few beats of silence as he cranes his neck to look out at the lake, eyes roaming what seems like every piece of frozen ice and snowy tree surrounding it.

“my aunt actually told me people sometimes skate on it.”

“yeah,” you confirm with a nod, taking the time to look at the beauty you take for granted every day. “it’s thick enough this year. sometime we’re not allowed.”

“cool,” he says with a smile, a slight shiver running through him that makes you frown. “so... can i come back here to do that?” he asks, his eyes hopeful and soft as he looks at you. “or should i use the real path?”

your eyebrows pull together at his question, confusion covering your face but only meeting his cocky, playful one.

“are you asking if we can skate together?”

he bites down on his lip so he doesn’t smile larger, his tongue peeking out just before his teeth make contact.

“yeah,” he hums lowly, the deep tone of his voice sending butterflies through your stomach. “i guess i am.”

your lips quirk to the side as you weigh out the pros and cons.

you’re on your own a lot and definitely miss talking to someone.

he’s attractive and funny and seemingly nice enough.

you know his aunt and can easily confirm his story, the chances of him being a murderer who moseyed into town considerably low.

the only con you can think of is falling on your ass in front of him and even that it isn’t such a deal breaker.

so you smile at him and nod your head, a melodic “okay,” leaving your mouth that has him smiling back at you just as sweetly.

present day:

you knew going to this dinner with mingi was gonna end in disaster.

you were both too on edge after your fight this morning, past the point of screaming and yelling for hours that, now, you’ll exchange a few harsh words at each other before falling silent.

you’ve learned that the tense silence after a fight is worse than screaming and yelling.

at least with that, it seems as if there’s still some passion there. there’s words being exchanged and feelings coming to the surface that both people feel motivated enough to express.

but with the silence, you’re both bottling it up.

deeming it useless and letting it brew and brew and brew until one of you goes completely over the edge - and more often than not, that person is him.

the car ride over is no better, not even the radio playing to distract you both from the building tension in the air.

your friends know immediately that something is up, yunho eyeing mingi and san eyeing you; yunho, san, seonghwa, and wooyoung had been your friends since elementary school.

you’d been through a lot with them and have seen each other at all your highs and lows.

throughout your two-year relationship with mingi, him and yunho had grown especially close and it was sweet to see; you knew it was important for mingi to have another friend in a place he didn’t grow up in and you were genuinely happy they created a great friendship.

“hey guys!” wooyoung chirped happily, already chowing down on the chips and salsa in the middle of the table. “how is everyone?”

and like he’s almost oblivious to the tension in the room, mingi only mumbles a grumbled “fine,” before he starts happily babbling again. you try a little harder to put up on a happy front, giving wooyoung a small smile as you talk to him about your last semester of school.

as the dinner goes on, appetizers turning to meals and meals turning to alcohol, mingi downs sangria after sangria before he becomes a lot more chatty.

“oh, shit, there he is,” wooyoung smiles happily, a drunken flush to his face as he pokes his arm playfully. “you were scaring me for a hot second. looking all pissed off and shit.”

“that’s because i was pissed off. still am, if i’m being honest, woo,” mingi says, a conniving hint in his tone as he finishes the last of his drink.

your eyes immediately move to him and you’re quick to narrow them, hoping and praying he doesn’t start round two in this public restaurant right now; but apparently, that’s exactly what he plans on doing.

“what’s with the face, y/n?”

mingi spits your name out like it’s the last thing he wants to say, a quietly snapped “nothing,” leaving your mouth.

san and yunho look to each other immediately, concern on both their faces as they feel the tension start creeping back up.

they knew something was wrong the second you both came in, have known things have been off between you two for months, and it was even more obvious when you immediately took the seats a few spots away from each other.

“nothing?” he asks, his voice deep and gravely due to his anger and the alcohol. “because it sure looks like you wanna say something.”

“i don’t have anything to say to you.”

“you never do, do you, babe?” he asks, his humorless laugh and vindictive tone making your skin prickle.

“did you even miss me?”

your eyes meet his from across the table when he finally speaks, your eyebrow raising as you two stare at each other blankly.

he had left two nights ago after telling you he needed space, not hearing a word from him until he came barreling through the door just a few moments ago at seven a.m.

you’d just gotten up to make yourself coffee, plagued with worry and upset over your fight and his lack of communication.

“maybe if you looked at your phone, you’d know.”

because how could he think you wouldn’t miss him? how could he think you’re actually okay with him leaving after every fight? not hearing from him for a day or two while you stay in this apartment and let your mind go off into every worst case scenario.

a humorless laugh can only leave him as he shakes his head.

“of course you’re putting the blame back on me. i just can’t make you happy, can i, y/n?”

“you staying after a fight would make me happy. but of course, you can’t do that for me, can you?”

he doesn’t say anything and instead just clenches his jaw painfully tight.

you watch it tick dangerously and instead of feeling anger or sadness, you just feel utterly defeated; you don’t know how many times you guys have had this exact conversation.

a fight will happen.

he yells, you cry.

you just want him to see your tears and obvious pain and stop the yelling.

hold you and kiss your hair and mumble that you guys are gonna figure this out and get passed it.

he leaves, you stay silent.

he just wants you to fight for him a little.

call him out on his shit and prove to his insecure self that you still love and care for him, even though he’s a dick. ask him to please stay because he wants to figure this out and get passed it.

but then he comes back and you’re both okay for a bit, just for the cycle to repeat itself over and over.

“is that why you leave, mingi?” you speak again, looking at him curiously as you shake your head. 

“make me sit here and worry about you for days, while you purposely ignore me, just so i can tell you i miss you? is that what you want?”

the words are on the tip of his tongue. that yes, that’s exactly what he wants from you.

but the words are also on the tip of your tongue. that you want his first instinct to be to stay. to stay here and talk things out with you before immediately jumping up to flee.

he wants you to tell him you miss him but you want him to tell you he loves you, that he loves you enough to stay when you guys fight; but right now, neither of you are even sure if that’s true anymore.

“i don’t know about y/n, you guys,” mingi says suddenly at dinner, the drunken slur to his voice evident to everyone. “i love her but sometimes.... i think i actually fucking hate her.”

you feel your heart sink when those words leave his mouth, your face dropping just as the boys call out his name roughly.

“mingi, what the fuck,” san growls from across the table; but the boy is completely unbothered, shrugging his broad shoulders as he looks directly at you.

“how ‘bout you, babe? how do you feel about me?” he asks, leaned back against his chair like he’s completely calm, cool and collected.

“i’m not having this discussion with you right now.”

“you never want to have this discussion,” he mocks, the anger and rage in his eyes only making your blood boil even more. 

“i’m getting tired of it, y/n. i’m getting tired of all this shit.”

his voice is raising and you’re becoming increasingly embarrassed, knowing that the last place for this blowout fight is in front of your friends in a public setting.

“mingi, this really isn’t the place to-”

“shut up, yunho, we’re gonna finally-”

but you’re not intending on doing anything, already feeling humiliated and belittled as you get up from your seat and walk toward the door.

you leave your bag and jacket so the boys know you’re not leaving, hoping and praying that your drunk asshole of a boyfriend follows you outside; and sure enough, two minutes later, you smell his familiar cologne when the door opens.

neither of you say anything for the first few seconds, him leaned against the wall and you facing him with your hands on your hips.

“what’s your problem?”

it’s the first thing you think to ask, looking at him with such concern and defeat in your eyes. 

you hope he can see it but you’re sure he can’t, far too absorbed in whatever he’s been going through for the past few months to notice.

“i don’t have a problem.”

“you obviously do,” you snap, your voice raising as you take a step closer to him.

“you just embarrassed me in front of everyone and you’re acting like a fucking child. we could’ve had this conversation at the house instead of not speaking for days.”

“why? so you could just turn shit around on me or ignore what i’m saying?” he snaps back, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you. “maybe we need an outside source to listen.”

“not our friends, mingi, and not at a public dinner when you’re getting drunk.”

“you always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he snaps, his jaw clenching and eyes flaring as he continues to peer down at you.

“and it’s always on me. when we tried to talk this morning, you blew me off, too, y/n. it’s like you don’t ever wanna have this discussion.”

“because i don’t know what you want me to say, mingi. how many times do i have to repeat myself and tell you i don’t know what you want from me?”

“have you ever thought that maybe that’s the fucking problem, y/n? that after all of this, you still don’t know what i want from you? are you fucking stupid?”

“are you fucking stupid?” you yell back, the suppressed anger and rage you knew was brewing boiling over right here and now.

“you want me to tell you that i miss you when you leave every other week, mingi? why would i tell someone that who could give a shit? i could tell you i miss you or that i’ll miss you and you’ll still fucking leave me.”

“how do you know?” he snaps, “you’ve never tried!”

“i’ve never tried?” you yelp, tears of frustration burning your eyes as you look at him.

“what’s me texting you when you leave like a little bitch every single time? or me obviously worrying when you pull that stupid shit over and over? i’ve been trying mingi and you don’t care! you leave me crying alone every single time!”

he meets your gaze with fire in his eyes and you can only stare back with tears in yours, waiting for him to scream something before he decides to kick over the metal garbage can a few feet away from you.

you watch as it clatters against the side walk, a loud, deep “fuck!” leaving him as you watch him blankly. his chest is heaving and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself right now but you also don’t know anymore.

because you’re shaking inside and out and feel like you wanna throw up, knowing that right now you both look like the worst type of couple; but it’s nothing compared to how you feel, how even though you don’t want to, you can’t stop yourself from acting out on these negative feelings.

“and if i never try, mingi, then just leave again,” you say, tears blurring your vision and a lump growing in your throat. “you can stay and come home with me tonight. or you can leave. at this point, i’m too tired to care.”

you weren’t surprised to go home alone that night.

watch as seonghwa and yunho helped your boyfriend to their car and promised that he’d be back in a few days; you were only able to sleep soundly that night because you knew he was safe with them.

but it didn’t stop you from crying yourself to sleep that night, the night after that and the night after that for the next week; the same would’ve probably happened the next night, too, at least for a little bit, had you not heard your front door open just after midnight.

you were getting in one last episode of your drama when mingi returned home, craning your neck back to see him lazily kicking off his shoes at the front door.

his head looked up to meet your gaze, the glow of the tv hitting him just enough to tell you he looked like shit.

he had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was tousled messily, like he hadn’t washed it since you last saw him. his face was sunken and pale as if he’d been away in the wild for months opposed to his friend’s house for just a little over a week.

but when he’s away from you, this is what happens each and every time - he can’t sleep or eat or function properly.

he’s only plagued with the thought of you, memories running through his mind or constantly wondering what you’re doing. if you’re safe and feeling okay or if something bad is gonna happen to you because he’s not there.

the couch dips next to you before you feel his skin graze yours, a quietly mumbled “hey,” like he just came in from work casually spoken through the air.

you crane your neck up at him to look in his sunken eyes, an uncontrollable frown on your face as you swipe your finger across his purple skin.

it’s the softest touch he’s received in a week and he’s missed it more than he cares to admit. shutting his eyes and smiling slightly when he hears you mumble “hi” back.

you bask in each other’s comfort and warmth for the rest of the episode in silence, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wound tightly around you until the tv screen falls black.

you two walk into bed and he pulls you down with him, your head falling to his chest and his hands in your hair. you moan against him sleepily and it’s a sound he’s missed so dearly, tightening his hold on you as he feels his body immediately relax.

you’re both completely comfortable and at ease, days of worrying finally calmed as you’re beside one another again.

but even with this comfort, even with the familiar feel of each other’s skin and warmth soothing both of you, you know it won’t be enough.

because you still don’t say you missed him and he still doesn’t tell you he loves you.

a year and 11 months ago - january 10th

you weren’t sure if it was possible to fall in love in less than a month but it really felt as if you and mingi did.

from the moment you saw him two days after your initial meeting, skating together and braving the frozen lake together, your connection was immediate.

you’d spent everyday with each other, frolicking through the town in the afternoon before going back to your house at night.

you usually spent it cuddled up on the couch or making food in your kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist before tossing you up on the counter playfully.

“you didn’t strike me as a chef,” you tell him, watching him stir a pot of noodles with a content look on his face.

“well, i didn’t strike you as a rapper either,” he says, a smirk on his face as a giggle leaves your mouth.

you learned that mingi was an aspiring rapper, him and his friend hongjoong trying to get their foot in the door for the past year. you listened to a few of their songs and even got a live performance from him, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you watched him.

in a fit of absolute astonishment, because you didn’t think mingi could get any more attractive, you blurted out that he didn’t seem like a rapper. that his personality was too “cute and charming” despite the deep growl to his raps and voice.

“i told you just personality wise,” you whine with a pout, reaching your hand out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “but appearance wise, absolutely. you’re very tough. very cool looking. i’m scared of you.”

“you’re making this a lot worse for yourself, baby,” he hums lowly, another giggle leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lip.

“did your friend hear back from that producer yet?” you ask him curiously, your legs criss-crossed as you sit on the counter and peer up at him.

he looks over to see you staring at him all wide-eyed and interested, a soft, happy glint in your gaze that makes his heart pull in his chest.

he hasn’t even known you for a month but he’s never been this happy before.

he’s never had anyone be there for him the way you’ve been, dedicating their time to him and being so actively interested and supportive of his decisions; it also doesn’t help that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both inside and out, that made him extend his trip a week longer.

he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to you yet and he’s still not sure if he can; he’s grown incredibly attached to you and it’s something he’s never felt before.

something all consuming and magical that’s making him incredibly vulnerable.

“not yet,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming your face.

your eyebrows pull together when you notice the way he’s looking at you, soft and sweet with a fondness that makes your heart flutter dangerously.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

a smile crosses his face as he lowers the heat on the stove, caging your body in and cocking his head to the side. he bites down on his lip when he sees your eyes widen, a large hand coming up to push pieces of hair out of your face.

“because i’m happy i met you.”

a small, touched smile pulls at your lips as you peer up at him, raising your own hand to smooth out the chain around his neck.

your fingers brush against his warm skin and it’s like there’s electricity coursing through both of you, your bodies close and hot breath wafting together.

“i’m happy i met you too, mingi.”

his heart soars at the way you say his name, eyes falling to your lips as he presses himself closer to you. you push yourself against the cabinets, swallowing the lump in your throat when you follow his gaze.

your tongue peeks out to lick over them unconsciously, your own eyes falling to his lips. you feel your stomach swoop dangerously, wanting so badly to feel them on yours - they’re one of the first things you noticed about him.

“y/n?”

“hm?” you hum, your eyes lingering on his mouth before hazily meeting his eyes; and there you see it, the soft intensity you’ve yet to grow used to.

you’ve seen this look from him more times than you can remember despite the short time you’ve known each other.

on the lake when you two were skating, grasping each other’s hands and giggling as you tried to keep yourselves from falling back.

in town when your hands bumped and you’d stop dead in your tracks to look at each other, completely unaware of the people around you giving each other knowing looks.

on the couch when you’d allow your head to rest on his shoulder, cuddling closer to him because the weather is really cold for january and you need body heat.

but it’s never been as strong as it now.

your heart’s never been beating this fast and you haven’t been able to feel his own pounding against his chest. probably because he was nervous to ask-

“can i kiss you?”

neither of you can remember what happened after he uttered those words.

just that one minute, he said it and the next, your mouths were connected. parting on one another’s as he completely caged your body with his.

your arms wound around his neck and he hummed contently against your mouth, slipping his tongue in when you started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

he had half the mind to turn off the stove before carrying you to the couch, your legs wound tightly around his waist as every hint of desire and want overtook you.

he plopped himself down as you situated yourself on his lap, lips never disconnecting. you moaned against him when you felt his body underneath yours, tongues colliding and mouths pulled into smiles.

his hands gripped onto your hips gently, pulling your body closer to his as your kisses grew hungrier and more intense.

you finally pulled apart for air with heaving chests and red, puffy lips, your eyes meeting and every hint of vulnerability and longing in them.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he finally says softly, almost whispering it in fear that someone else would hear.

but this house is empty. it always is and it has been for quite some time.

until you met him and he completely changed your life.

now there were two pairs of shoes at the door and two empty cups in the sink. there was someone to talk to and someone to be in the silence with.

because you’ve learned over this past month that even a silence with someone else is way better than the silence of being alone.

“me... me too,” you admit shyly, a warm blush creeping up on your face. “i’m... really, really happy you’re here, mingi.”

his eyes widen when he sees tears well up in your eyes, his mouth pulled into a frown as he brings his hands to your face.

but you only shake your head before he can comment on it, placing your hand atop his before connecting your lips again.

he meets the kiss with the fervor you need, everything about it soft and sweet and passionate. like you guys know time is running out and you need to fit it all in.

“that producer got back to me and wants to meet in person so you’ll be home next week, yeah?” hongjoong asked mingi over the phone, the boy laid out on his bed a few days later.

he can only keep replaying the memory of you in his mind, the tone of your voice and the teary look in your eye when you told him how happy you were that he’s been here.

there was a certain type of sadness behind you that he hasn’t been able to shake, making it incredibly hard for him to pick a day to just pack up his car and go.

“i... uh. i don’t know, yet.”

“what?” hongjoong asked.

him and mingi had been waiting to meet producers for months, getting either put on a list or straight up rejected. and now when they have a chance, “you don’t know yet?”

mingi licks over his lips as he hears the disbelief in his friend’s voice, knowing that hongjoong won’t be able to believe this. they’ve been waiting for this moment ever since they were in high school and had the dream of rapping as a duo.

he was only supposed to be here for a few days and now it was almost a month. what could possibly be keeping him there? what could possibly have made mingi-

“what could you possibly not know, mingi? we’ve been waiting for this moment for years. you even extended your trip for a bullshit reason thinking i’d really buy it.”

“okay but my aunt really did need help around the house...” he mumbles because yes, she needed help around the house as she redid her bathroom but she was quick to hire professionals so, technically not a lie.

“so what, what’s your excuse this time? did you meet some chick?”

there’s a silence that stretches over the phone for what feels like hours, mingi attempting to find any words before hongjoong lets out a loud groan.

“a girl? mingi, are you fucking kidding me?”

“i really like her, hongjoong,” mingi tells his friend, a sweet genuineness and innocence in his deep tone. “i really, really like her and i... i don’t think i can leave her yet.”

he reluctantly opens up to hongjoong about you, telling him that you’re in school and live alone in this quiet little lake town. that you and him have been spending every second together and he’s never felt this way about anyone before.

“i’m happy for you, man, i really am,” hongjoong says, never having heard his friend talk like this before. “but i mean... is she worth changing your plans? what the hell is there for you?”

he wants to say that you. you’re there.

the girl he’s known for less than a month but has gotten him so tight around her finger - and once he leaves, will still be here.

except she’ll be within the walls of her house all alone again, in a town based off people coming and going where she’s never seemed to have a stable relationship with anyone.

where she now knows what it’s like to spend every day with someone and look forward to their company every morning and night. spend hours talking until the sun rises and sleep until it’s dark out.

“i wouldn’t be changing my plans that much. i still have our music, hongjoong. we can still do shit even if i live here.”

“live there?!? hongjoong blurts out, “you’ve been there for a less than a month, dude, that’s fucking crazy. you’ve barely know her and you’re gonna move there?”

“i can’t leave her.”

he didn’t think at the time that it was crazy. he didn’t think he’d ever come to regret that decision because, at the time, he really couldn’t imagine leaving you.

he couldn’t picture himself hugging you goodbye and telling you that you’d keep in touch via texting and facetime.

he couldn’t picture going back home with a genuine smile on his face when it felt as if he left behind something, someone, would could make him the happiest he’s ever felt.

he couldn’t picture that he’d ever come to resent you because when he told you he was gonna consider staying in town longer, a bit more permanently, the smile that lit up your face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“really?” you smile, jumping up from your spot on the couch and running over to him.

you’re so smiley and happy and bouncy until you’re not, your face dropping ever so slightly when you look over his face.

“but wait... what about the producer? did he ever answer?”

“he did. hongjoong’s meeting with him tomorrow.”

your eyes widen at the news but he’s quick to cut you off, bend down and press a long, lingering kiss to your lips before scooping you up into his arms.

“but i told him there was something better for me here.”

present day:

he wasn’t sure when the resentment started.

he just knew that, one minute he loved you, and the next, he started to question everything.

it could’ve been from seeing hongjoong’s success, album after album and talk of him all over social media right in his face every day.

it could’ve been his lack of success, pursuing a music degree via online school while still keeping up with his previously established career as a rapper; it was enough to get the bills paid and keep his name lingering around but that’s all it was now.

it could’ve been that all of his passion was gone and he blamed you for that; because if it weren’t for you, he’d be with hongjoong now. he’d be making money and feeling inspired and at the peak of his creativity and motivation.

but he loves you, right? he loves you more than he’s loved anyone in the world and he made the right decision.

“sometimes i question if i made the right decision.”

it was a relativity quiet night for you and mingi, the past few days calm and uneventful, so you knew a fight was bound to happen soon.

and with that statement, it seemed as if the night was quickly headed in that direction.

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your textbook.

he was sat on the love seat opposite you, computer in his lap and a beer on the side table as he watched you. he’d been wordlessly watching you all night and you hadn’t been sure what to make of it.

now, you can see, he might’ve been watching you with disdain.

“i mean i sometimes wonder if i made the right decision in staying here. just... so quickly not accepting that producer’s offer with hongjoong’s.”

his words hurt you more than you let on, your stomach sinking and knotting as you let his words sink in.

you had asked him for weeks after he made that decision if he was sure.

if something he worked so hard on and something he looked forward to for so long was something was worth giving up.

and anytime you asked, he’d say the same thing.

“you’re worth it.”

you wonder now if he said it so many times to qualm your ever present worries or to convince himself. tell himself over and over again that, yes this girl is worth staying here and no, i won’t come to resent her.

it’s something you worried about in the beginning but faded with time.

because your love grew stronger and you both became more secure. your relationship was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced.

but not now.

now it’s a fucking disaster.  

“where did that even come from?”

you can hear to your own ears how shaky and unsure your voice sounds. it’s filling you with as much shame as it does embarrassment, knowing that you can’t even talk to your own boyfriend openly and honestly.

without feeling upset, like you know you have to walk on eggshells or can’t express how much he’s been hurting you.

“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking,” he hums, taking a swig of his beer as he adjusts himself on the couch.

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, only humming lowly as you nod your head.

you lick over your lips as you look back down uncomfortably, blankly staring at the words of your textbook. your brain can’t absorb any of the terms or phrases on the page, the sinking, awful feeling in your stomach taking over.

you can’t even remember how long you’ve felt like this.

when butterflies turned to this gut wrenching, awful feeling.

like the feeling before a plane takes off or you have a presentation to do or when the one person you’ve loved in this world has decided they don’t want you anymore.

“i stayed for you.”

the words you feared hearing pierce the air and you hold back a shaky breath, biting the inside of your cheek so harshly you’re hit with the metallic taste blood.

you look up and see his eyes narrowed in on you, tears burning the back of yours as you beg them not to fall.

because you can’t keep crying in front of him just for him to ignore you. to just watch you lose it with a blank look in his eyes, instead of holding you or attempting to soothe you.

“i couldn’t leave you alone in your house,” he begins, like the words he’s rationalizing in his head are coming out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“i wasn’t ready to leave you yet and i didn’t even think twice about how i would feel in the future. because i was so fucking consumed by you, y/n.”

there’s an obvious and palpable pain in his voice and it makes your gut wrench even more; you hate that he’s in pain but you’re in pain, too. you were in pain before him and now you’re in pain because of him.

“i’m still consumed by you but i feel...angry now. i feel so fucking angry, y/n, and i don’t know why. i don’t know if i’m mad at you or myself but i know i stayed for you. if i never met you, i never would’ve stayed here and now i feel like i’m stuck.”

“but i never asked you to stay, mingi,” you whimper out, the tears quickly coming to the surface.

they’re a mix of sadness and frustration, because it hurts so much hearing this, the obvious regret in his words, but it also makes you mad - that was his choice and his choice alone.

and it’s like he knows that too. because he doesn’t say anything in response, just continues to stare at you with a look in his eye that breaks your heart.

“i asked you so many times if you were okay with doing that,” you begin after moments of silence, your teary, wet gaze meeting his. “i asked you again and again because i knew you’d come to regret it.”

“i’m not saying i regret it, i’m just saying i-”

“you’re saying you stayed here for me like it’s my fault,” you say, shaking your head as tears leak from your eyes and down your cheek. “like i asked you to and like meeting me was your downfall. but i never told you to and i would’ve never ever expected you to.”

“what, so i was just supposed to leave you alone?” mingi growls lowly, emotion behind his tone that’s almost masked by the brashness.

he can’t help but feel all of this coming up, all of these feelings he’s been going through these past months and making him a completely different person.

“why would i have left you when i knew i loved you?”

neither of you focused on loved being past tense, probably because it’s a fact both of you know by now.

“i didn’t want anything else but you in that moment.”

“do you want a prize, mingi?” you snap, every defensive and defeated emotion coursing through your veins.

“you could’ve left me alone. you could’ve just left the way you wished you did so fucking badly. you would’ve saved yourself all of this obvious regret.”

“you think i regret staying with you?” he asks, his voice low and deep as he rises from the chair.

his frame is tall and broad and looming as he walks closer to you, standing over your chair as you sit there and stare up at him. his eyes roam your face and he follows the few tears rolling down your cheeks, his hands stiffly hanging at his sides.

he used to hate seeing you cry.

it used to make him wanna destroy whatever was hurting you. he used to kiss your tears away and wouldn’t let you leave his arms until you were smiling and laughing again.

“well, what do you call this?” you whimper quietly, sniffling and stuffy and feeling small tears stream down your face.

“you basically said if it weren’t for me, you’d be happier with your life. and i... i was so happy when you decided to stay, mingi, i’m not gonna lie to you. i was so happy because i knew we would love each other so much,” you whimper out, the knot in your throat making it difficult to speak.

“but i also knew that one day, you would probably regret it and resent me. it’s why i asked you over and over and over again. because i was so scared this was gonna happen.”

his mouth grows dry as he licks over his lips, a burning behind his eyes as he hears your voice break. he’s quick to shake his head and blink away the tears, though, because he knows if he starts crying, he’s never gonna stop.

“i thought you would leave with me eventually,” he’s finally able to get out, his throat clogged and voice gruff as he voices his innermost thoughts and wishes.

you compromised for him once, why wouldn’t you do it again?

“i thought if you actually loved me the way you claimed to, you’d be able to go.”

“well, i was always honest with you about that too,” you murmur, feeling utterly defeated and guilty as you meet mingi’s glossy eyes. “you know i never intend on leaving.”

a year and 5 months ago - june 19th

he learned about your parents accident on the 4th year anniversary of their death.

he had noticed that week you were especially gloomy, a sad look in your eye and the fake smile on your face making him cling to you just a bit more than usual.

and apparently, you had noticed too.

“mingi, are you okay?”

the words were muffled against his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as the two of you lay on the couch. his hand had been running up and down your back gently all night, like he’d been trying to calm you without any words.

like he knew there was something wrong, even though you hadn’t said a word.

his eyebrows pull together in confusion, placing his fingers under your chin. he lifts your face as his eyes search yours, that sad look behind them masked by a soft curiosity.

you’re trying to hide your pain because you think he’s hurting and that alone only makes him even more sad.

“of course i am, baby. but are you okay?”

you can’t find it in you to say yes so you only nod shyly, a small smile gracing your face as you look at him.

his eyes are full of such warmth and love that it makes tears prick behind your eyes, dropping your gaze quickly as you bury your face back in his chest.

the movement causes him to swallow nervously, adams apple bobbing as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

he knows something’s wrong. he knows something’s very wrong but he doesn’t know what happened or what’s brought this on.

“you can tell me anything,” he mumbles against your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. “you know that, right?”

because he also noticed that you started seeming off when he mentioned moving in together, looking at apartments in town for himself before getting the idea to live with you.

you guys are already together all the time, it only made sense for you two to live together as well.

but he could tell immediately the idea unsettled you, you clutching desperately on to him as you muttered that you’d think about it.

at first, he would’ve assumed you didn’t wanna go that far with him. that it was too serious a commitment and you were completely uncomfortable with that.

but it was the way you were clinging to him, burying your face in his chest like you were begging him not to leave you that made him realize something deeper was going.

it’s why he dropped it at first. looked for apartments on his own with the idea that, best case scenario, you’d move in with him too.

could that be what’s wrong right now? you dealing with moving in with him and fears coming from that? or something else entirely?

he just knows that when he starts to hear you cry quietly into his chest, he needs to know what’s been wrong because he hates seeing you like this.

“hey, hey, hey,” his deep voice mumbles, large hands pulling you from his chest and wiping at your face. “what happened, baby? what’s wrong?”

and since you started crying about this, remembering the day and the circumstances around it so well, you won’t be able to stop. you can only continue to cry into him, tiny sobs wracking your body as you clutched onto him tightly.

“i... i can’t.”

you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell him, he wasn’t sure.

that’s why he shook his head and pulled you back into his chest, the warm safe place you’ve come to know so well and usually calmed you whenever you needed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong but i promise you’ll be okay,” you hear him mumble against your head, his hand running up and down your back gently. “i’ll try to help you in any way i can, baby, but i’m gonna need to know what’s wrong.”

but he can’t help you bring back your dead parents.

he can’t help you time travel the way you so desperately wish you could to tell yourself not to go on that senior trip.

that if you didn’t go, your parents never would’ve driven you to the airport and they never would’ve gotten in the car accident that took their life on the way back.

you’d spent a week in a foreign country while they spent a week in the hospital, your aunt and grandparents dealing with the repercussions before you came back and said your goodbyes in a dingy, hospital room.

mingi doesn’t know how long you both sat there in silence, your cries muffled against his chest and his arms wound tightly around you.

he loosened his hold immediately when he felt you try to pull away, watching as you stared at him, wiped your eyes and told him everything.

“my parents died four years ago, today.”

he watches with soft, sympathetic eyes and a breaking heart as you tell him about your guilt.

how if you just decided to stay home after weeks of begging them to go, they’d still be here.

“they didn’t have the money but i begged them for weeks, mingi,” you tell him, tears in your eyes and voice thick with emotion. 

“i wanted to go so badly because all my friends were going and i was too selfish to see they really couldn’t afford it.”

he can tell you’re not done talking so he only presses his lips together and grasps your hand tightly. squeezes it reassuringly as his thumb gently rubs back and forth against your skin.

“they both worked overtime for two weeks straight and gave me the money the last day it was due. and i barely thanked them,” you remember, the scene you’ve replayed in your mind hundreds of times flashing yet again.

you jumped up from the couch and snatched the money from their hands, throwing your arms around them in a quick hug before screaming your thanks and running up to your room to tell your friends.

“a drunk diver hit them on their way home from the airport and the doctors couldn’t believe they both didn’t die on impact. a-and no one in my family could even call me so i said my goodbyes when i got home, in the hospital.”

you look to mingi with tears streaming down your cheeks and you see wetness in his own eyes, his hand grasping onto yours tight.

“i couldn’t even talk to them one last time. or hear their voices. i don’t even know if they heard me.”

your voice breaks off after that, not being able to handle recounting this after years of staying silent about it; he’s the first person you’ve talked to about this besides the counselor you saw a few months after their death.

he pulls you in his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, rocking you back and forth as he presses his lips to your head.

your eyes are closed tight as you focus on his breathing and soft murmurs. his deep, full voice muttering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances.

that your parents did hear you and they loved you till the end.

that it was no one’s fault but the driver who decided to get in a car after getting drunk.

that you shouldn’t put any blame on yourself, because your parents would want you to be happy and thriving.

“i know but it’s just hard,” you tell him, you teary face pulling away from his wet chest.

you look around the living room full of books and wooden furniture, a family portrait hung above a cluttered-filled desk; it was taken when you were ten and you remember hating that day because you had to wear an uncomfortable dress and tights.

“i don’t know how i’m ever gonna leave this place,” you voice aloud to him, one of the many concerns that muddled your mind when you started deciding on college or jobs or moving in with your perfect boyfriend of almost a year.

“it’s the last thing i have of them. i don’t... i don’t know if i’d be ever to leave this place, mingi.”

not after what happened last time.

not wanting to leave the house you grew up in to strangers who would create more happy memories and replace the ones you made with your own parents.

his face contorts into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking as the obvious guilt and dread is in your eyes.

he’d always seen a bit of torment behind them but you were always able to smile.

laugh with him and tease him and push whatever demons he knew you had aside; but he started seeing it again when he mentioned moving in, fear and anxiety and discomfort that he hated to even see behind your eyes.

“i don’t know how that will effect us, it’s something i’ve thought about a lot recently,” you confess quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. “especially when you mentioned us moving in together. i... i want to, so bad, because i love you and i think it’d be fun. but... i can’t leave.���

your tears start up again and a frown crosses mingi’s face, his body hovering over yours as he takes your face in his big hands.

he wipes at the tears threatening to slide down your cheeks before placing his lips on your head, breathing slowly and calmly against you as his warm breath wafts over you.

“baby, i understand completely, i really do,” he says, everything making sense now but... “but i don’t think your parents would want you to... limit your life like this.”

because you obviously had an interest in seeing the world. you obviously wanted to see different places and cultures and sights in the world that even your precious little town doesn’t hold.

but he can see tonight isn’t the night you’re gonna see that, if the way you shake your head and bury yourself back in his chest doesn’t show that.

and because he loved you more than anything else in the world, he understood it. held you and kissed you and made sure you knew he’d be by your side in whatever way you needed.

it was with his patience and love and unconditional support that you were able to live with him. keep your parents house as a sense of security but slowly move yourself out of it.

leaving a toothbrush at the apartment, a few sets of clothes, some shampoos and soaps until one night, you were waking up and falling asleep with him every morning and night.

present day:

the fight that ended you and mingi was over a trip to disney.

something meant to be so childish and fun and innocent morphing into a blowout, gut-wrenching fight that left the two of distraught.

hit both of you with the realization that whatever you once had had fizzled out and turned so horribly toxic, you were both losing yourselves.

it had started with yunho, san and wooyoung planning the trip, mingi over their house one day after the tension in the apartment got too much. he had scoffed when san mentioned it at first, wondering what business they had as college going twenty-somethings booking a trip to disney.

“it’ll be sweet!” san said, “we could go to the parks for a few days, everyone loves roller coasters! and then we can drive down to the beach, go surfing and go to bars and shit. it’d be so much fun, guys.”

and the more all of them thought about it, the more excited they got. looking at flights and car rentals and getting all their swim suits in order - that was until mingi came back home a day later and informed you of these plans.

“me and the guys were talking about booking a trip to disney,” was the first thing he said to you. not a hello or how are you or sorry for leaving and making you worry for a week.

“oh?” you hummed quietly, looking up from your spot at the kitchen sink; you’d made breakfast for two just in case he came home early but it was another serving of eggs and bacon in the trash.

“yeah, so is that something you’d wanna do?”

there’s something off about his tone that you immediately pick up on. snippy and on edge and defensive, like he’s already fully prepared to break out into a fight.

because he already knows you won’t do it. you won’t leave the 70 mile radius you’ve trapped yourself nor will you even try to go out of your comfort zone for him and you or anyone else.

and quite frankly, he’s grown really fucking sick of it. call him selfish or call him someone looking out for you, someone who knows this type of living isn’t normal, he can’t deal with it anymore.

“i... well i mean...how would we get there? and when?”

“we were looking at flights three weeks from now,” he says, carefully observing your face with slightly cold eyes. carefully waiting for the next hint of a breakdown he’s not gonna properly respond to.

you bite the inside of your cheek as panic starts to stir in your chest.

you haven’t been anywhere since the accident. you’ve gotten yourself so used to this environment that going anywhere else seems terrifying.

but you’ve seen how bad things will happen when you try to venture out. you left to do the same and it cost your parents your life - who’s to say you wouldn’t get your karma soon?

leave mingi without a girlfriend he doesn’t even care about anymore or your grandparents without a granddaughter you can’t help but feel they blame for their child’s death.

tears are quick to prick your eyes as you try to push down all of these feelings, looking down at the floor in a move mingi already knows is dismissive.

you hear him scoff and it sends a flurry of emotions through you, not even needing to lift your head to know he’s shaking his head.

“figures,” he hums lowly, making extra noise as he puts down his bag or plops down on the dining room chair. “i don’t know why i bothered asking.”

“mingi...” you begin breathlessly, guilt and shame and sorrow filling you.

“no, y/n.”

his voice is firm and hard and makes you meet his gaze, the look he’s throwing you icy and completely empty. he’s done and you’re done and there’s basically a ticking time bomb between you two.

“you didn’t even let me give you an answer.”

“because i know what it’s gonna be!” he roars, feeling stupid for getting excited when he knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to leave. “i know you’re gonna make up some bullshit excuse about school or work or money and you’re gonna say no.”

you can’t say anything because you know he’s right. but what he doesn’t know is that you’re trying. you try every day and every week and every month to push yourself out of your comfort zone and it just doesn’t work.

you’ve tried going away with him and you’ve tried expanding your horizons - you’e even moved out of your parents house to live with him. but it’s hard when you’re constantly reminded by the fact that your decisions ended a life.

while it was technically the drunk driver’s fault, your survivors guilt heavily outweighs that. intrusive thought after intrusive thought until you start to question why you’re even still here, too.

“i’m trying, mingi,” you say, your voice shaky and defeated. “i’m trying but you don’t even see that.”

“how are you trying?” he asks, watching your dejected form a few feet away from him. “you haven’t done anything different since you moved in with me. we’ve been living the same life for the past two years, y/n.”

but you just remember how patient he was when you first tried moving in. how he was so patient and kind and gentle and was everything you needed him to be.

but he can just remember how much he loved you. how patient and understanding he was, not fully grasping the severity of what happened to you and how incapable he was of dealing with it.

“i’m... so fucking sick of it. i’ve grown to be so sick of you and i hate that, y/n. i hate feeling like this but it’s the truth.”

“and you don’t think i am?” you blurt out, the dam of tears breaking as you hear him say those specific words to you - i’ve grown to be so sick of you.

your frame is smaller and fragile and you’re like a shell of the person you were when you first met as you make your way up to him, looking over him with all the pain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“you don’t think i’m sick of feeling this way? of seeing how much you obviously hate me and are over this when i can’t stop feeling this way? because i’m sorry it’s been inconveniencing you, mingi, but it’s been ruining me, too. sometimes i can’t even believe i’m still here.”

the last part of your sentence stirs something in him but he can only focus on your broken state. watching as you grow weaker and weaker because of him.

“you haven’t even been helping me,” you suddenly say, words quiet and soft-spoke but filled with an obvious hurt. “i... i don’t know why you’d even wanna go on a trip with me because we’d just fight, mingi. we’d just fight and i’d cry and you’d leave me. th-that’s what we keep doing.”

tears burn the back of his eyes, a knot growing in his stomach so big it feels like he’s about to puke.

“because i don’t know what to do anymore, y/n,” he say, his voice less harsh but still holding a certain degree of bite. “i tried so hard with you and nothing seems to work. i loved you, i still love you, and i was there for you and i tried so hard with you but... i don’t know how to help you.”

“you think yelling is the way? or leaving me is the way?” you laugh out manically, tears rolling down your face that you desperately try to reach out and wipe. “you’re sick of me but i’m sick of you, too. i’m sick of feeling this way and i’m so fucking sick of thinking you still love me.”

“you don’t think i love you?” he asks, rising from his chair and making his way over to you. 

his looming height should make you nervous, the way he’s looking down at you and threatening to trap you against the counter should make you nervous, but it doesn’t.

because coming to terms with this right here is the worst part. the conversation you’ve been avoiding for months and the obvious change in what you two have become.

“i don’t,” you say, finally meeting his gaze and seeing hurt and anger swirl behind them. they used to hold such a sweet softness that would sometimes make you feel better, even if just for a little bit.

“because even if you do, you’re still sick of me, right?”

one year ago:

“what if you get sick of me?”

the newest compromise had been his family coming here to meet you.

you and mingi had booked refundable tickets for a week in his hometown, a part of you wanting to desperately prove you could do something for him. something that would make him happy and maybe prove you love him a little more than you can convey.

but the second you got on the highway to the airport, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to.

memories played through your mind of you in the backseat of your parents car, laughing and talking with them as you promised to be careful and take a lot of pictures with them.

hearing them tell you they loved you and were so happy you were able to go after all.

and then you’d looked to the other side and see in your mind a car hitting the other. spinning out and smacking into the divider as an eruption of fire, car parts and the chaotic screeching of breaks echoed through the air.

mingi had to pull over to calm you down, bring you back to the real world in the form of hugging you close to his body and his hand running through your hair.

“i’m- i’m sorry, mingi, i’m sorry, i-”

“sh, you don’t have to apologize, baby, there’s nothing to apologize for,” he hums against your head, pulling you over the console to rock you gently in his lap.

he was warm and broad and soft spoken and everything about him made you feel safe. you couldn’t grasp at the time how or why he was so understanding and sweet but you didn’t even wanna question it.

because he was the one thing in your life that made you feel okay. that you had him and he had you and there was nothing that could be that bad if you had each other still. 

he didn’t let go of your hand once as pulled onto the highway, got off the exit and made his way back home.

he guided you back into the apartment and told you to go lay down and that he’d be there in a second. 

he cancelled the flight and called his mom, telling her you guys got rained out and that, if it was okay, he’d pay for them to fly out here next week.

the bed dips a few moments later, broad strong arms wrapping around your waist before you’re pulled into his chest.

it was after a few silent minutes stretched between you two, the calming rise and fall of his chest against your back, your small voice pierced the air.

“i’m sorry, mingi.”

he could tell you were gonna cry before you even started, turning you in his arms as he pulled you closer to him.

“baby, i already told you you don’t have to-”

“but i do,” you cut him off, lower lip trembling and stomach knotting guiltily. 

“i... i don’t think this is normal, mingi. i should be able to move on with my life and travel somewhere. i wanted to go so badly and meet your mom but i-” your voice breaks as tears fill your eyes and you try to catch the breath threatening to suffocate you.

“i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever,” you say quietly, looking up and meeting his soft, sweet gaze. “i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever and you’re gonna become tired of it.”

“baby... that’s never gonna happen,” he assures you, voice gentle but firm as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“and you’re not gonna be like this forever. we can get you help. and i can help you,” he says, his eyes looking into yours with such a raw honesty and love. “i... don’t really know how but i’ll do whatever it takes.”

“what if it’s not enough?” you ask, because at the time it’s like you knew just how bad this was gonna get. that even with as low as you felt then, it wasn’t even rock bottom.

“what if you get sick of me?”

“i won’t,” he reassures, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your head before settling you onto his chest carefully. “that’ll never happen because i love you, y/n. and i always will.”

present day:

in a turn of events, you were the one who left after that. 

came right to the place you first met, except now the lake isn’t frozen over and the late-afternoon sun had just set.

his words were too harsh and reminded you too much of his broken promises.

you felt too weak and pathetic and completely hopeless, the tense silence so horribly loud between you two you left without a word; and he hadn’t said anything either.

and now, as you sit at the spot you’ve always come to and found solace in, you can feel why he was always so hurt when you didn’t ask him to stay. because even though you were fighting and even though you both hurt each other, you wanted him to ask you to stay.

to please not go because that would’ve been the last possible way for you both to see there was something still there - even though it’s plain to see there isn’t.

too many fights and too many words have been said. too many lapses of silence and too many unspoken thoughts that now when uttered are just hurting both of you.

you’re both too hurt and you both have too many things to sort through that you can’t do together. 

one second you were staring down at the lake, your own broken reflection staring back as your feet hung in the water, and the next you couldn’t see. tears flooded your vision and sobs wracked through your body, loud, ugly, horrific sobs that you’ve been holding back for far too long.

you cry because you know it’s over with him, you know it’s been over for a while, but now it all feels real. 

you cry because you know you need some help to get past all of the guilt you feel, how if you don’t get help, you’re never gonna leave this town and see what else is out there.

you cry because you don’t even know where to start and know, even though it hurts, you have to do it alone.

you’re so lost in your thoughts and the way your cries echo through the yard that you don’t hear footsteps approach you.

you don’t even know anyone’s behind you until someone bends down and pulls you into their broad, warm chest. a chest you know far too well and a body that hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever.

he knew you’d be here and he couldn’t stop his legs from jumping in the car and coming to see you after you left. half because he knew this had to happen and half because he was far too scared for you to be out here like this.

he knew what conversation was gonna follow but he knew had to hold you one last time. he missed holding you and he missed wiping your tears away.

“i don’t know what happened to us, mingi,” you whimper into his chest, the tears that have been building behind his eyes finally coming to the surface.

he doesn’t know what happened either. he doesn’t know when or where you guys went wrong or when you stopped talking to each other. he doesn’t know when he stopped loving you in such a way that was all consuming, where he knew he’d do anything and everything for you.

“i don’t... i don’t think this is working. i don’t know what to do but i know i can’t do this anymore.”

“i don’t know what happened either, baby,” he mumbles against your head, his words wobbly and wet as he tightens his hold on you. it feels as if every part of is heart is breaking, for the way he’s neglected you and the way your crying against him.

“i’m sorry i can’t help you. i wanted to so fucking badly but now... i just, i can’t, baby.”

you cry harder as you shake your head against him, feeling him plop down and pull you into his arms tighter.

it feels every bit as heartbreaking and upsetting as you both knew it’d be. it’s probably why you guys put it off for so long. because even though you feel the love you used to feel, you both know nothing will change.

he’ll resent you and you’ll resent him right back.

he’ll say he stayed for you and tried to help you and you’ll say you never asked him to do any of it.

you both sit there and cry and hold each other until the sky falls dark and air turns crisp, the moon reflecting off the lake in a way that hasn’t changed in two years.

but everything’s changed between you both and it’s too heartbreakingly obvious.

“i’ll miss you,” you mumbled to him.

because you know he’s gonna go on and do all the great things he’s wanted to. move out of this town and pursue whatever dreams he put off for you, the girl he once loved more than anything.

“i love you,” he confesses quietly against your head. “i really really did love you.”

because he knows he still does, he knows he always will, but it’s not something either of you can bear to hear right now.

you both have said what the other needed to hear and when you guys part tonight, maybe you’ll finally start feeling better. fix yourselves and the damage you’ve caused each other and maybe reunite when the universe deems it right.

two and a half years later:

it had always been your dream to see the northern lights.

something about them had always fascinated you, how they almost didn’t see real or were just a figment of fake editing that would only ever be seen in photos.

but you had an overwhelming need to see them before your very eyes. see the sight before you and marvel in just how truly fascinating and beautiful it was.

so that’s exactly what you did.

you wrote down a list of all the places you wanted to see: the egyptian pyramids, the great wall of china, the taj mahal, the eiffel tower, all of the sights that you knew in order to see, you’d have to leave the perfect little town you loved so much.

it took a lot of attempts, a lot of tears and anxiety and frantic calls to your therapist, but finally, you were able to do it.

it was the third to last place on your 6-month journey around the world, jet lag getting to you immensely but an extremely fulfilling pride and excitement within you.

you were able to do it. see the sights and meet hundreds of different people and experience all the things you convinced yourself you didn’t need or want. 

and you didn’t have a single regret until this very moment. 

because the rookie mistake you made within this amazing, journey of self-discovery around the world was not investing in a parka.

the biting temperatures of alaska were surely getting to you right now, your glove covered hands over your ears as you trekked through the snow with other groups of (properly dressed) tourists during the aurora season.

you found yourself in a snowy, freezing field, tall evergreen trees above your heads as you waited patiently for the sky to change perfectly, a buzzing excitement and low chatter from the people around you.

footsteps crunching on snow filled your ears from every direction, your eyes on the trees and large sky above you. a harsh gust of wind whipped past you and you let out a tiny squeal, your hands shooting up to your red, wind-burnt face.

you could hear a quiet, low chuckle beside you, something about the strangely familiar sound sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. you didn’t understand them at that moment, ignoring your bodies odd reaction and keeping your eyes focused on the sky. 

it took hearing his voice, the same one you’d fallen in love with in your own backyard, for your eyes widen and quickly look over the snowy vast of land surrounding you.

mingi stepped in front of you, eyes full of amusement and pride and even disbelief, looking over your face with the same type of a fascination he had when he first met you.  

“aren’t you cold?”

inspired by: line without a hook by ricky montgomery, ty tiktok

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @chrryhwa @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo​ @nlost21​ @toffee-hwa​ @hyunjeansuniverse​ @cherryeonii​

[where-the-fig-tree-twists]

Quail and Clover

>Chickens and Quail<

I did some research and found this link to be especially helpful. Quail produce more eggs, but are smaller. They also reach maturity quicker and are easier to process than chickens. Their eggs are smaller though, and “require specialty tools to open them”? But, it only takes 8 weeks to start laying eggs! So that’s very helpful and cool, and I think it’d be encouraging to have something that lays faster.

I also think it’d be easier to use them to process for whole prey model raw for food for the dogs, but that’s a topic for another post. Quail also need much less space, meaning it’s a far less daunting or exhausting task to build them a coop or tractor - they only require 1sqft per bird, while chickens require 12:1. That’s a ton of space! Obviously, I’m going to give them much more space than that, but it’s something worth taking into consideration.

Unfortunately quail aren’t a walking garbage can like chickens are, but, honestly, we don’t really have enough waste I could give chickens currently. We have turtles we give leftover vegetables and fruit to, and extra proteins and grains go to the dogs and hamsters.

🐓 🌸 🐓 🌸 🐓 🌸 🐓 🌸 🐓 🌸 🐓 🌸

>Clover and Gardens<

Clover is hardy, and grows very well in areas where little else does. unFortunately, that’s… pretty much exactly my land. Living here, I’ve seen more than my fair share of cliche tumbleweeds larger than the front end of a Kia Soul. Clover “hibernates” over winter, and comes back during the thaw, so I don’t have to worry about it dying off over the winter. It also requires very little intensive care, and tends to choke out other invasive species. Perfect - I’m so tired of grass burrs in my carpet, and seeing my poor dogs limping across the yard. Another added bonus, on the topic of dogs, is that clover holds up extremely well to dogs and increased foot traffic. Fantastic, as I train, foster, show, and do dog sports, and have a good number of dogs. It’s resistant to dog pee as well and doesn’t yellow like normal grass. It’s soft, pretty, and attracts all kinds of natural pollinators. I’m kind of thinking of also planting wildflowers with my clover seed, to get extra pollinators in the area and help boost our natural ecology.

I learned that if I use something to increase the nitrogen in the soil in my gardening, the clover won’t invade my plants! Bone meal, earthworm castings, cow manure, liquid kelp, guano, nature fertilizers like that will help keep it back. If my fertilizer isn’t enough, corn gluten meal or vinegar, water, and a drop of dish soap sprayed on the intruders will help protect my garden. This also keeps clover mites out of the garden, without threatening any of the helpful bugs and insects.

[mikrowrites]

destiny

winchester!sister , dean x sister!reader , sam x sister!reader

SPN SEASON 15 FINALE SPOILERS!!!

summary: Y/N always knew she was destined go out one way or another, so when destiny arrives Y/N just wants her brothers to hold her.

warnings: ANGST, death, blood, violence, language, there’s some fluff I swear!!!

There’s a moment when you are confronted with your destiny.

Maybe your destiny is to end world hunger. Find a cure for an incurable disease, open a restaurant, some shit like that.

Y/N Winchester was always destined to die.

It’s every hunter’s destiny, really. They resign themselves to the incredibly high odds of their inevitablely early demise, and she made her choice long ago. She would die, and her brothers would live...

The vamp wrestled with Y/N, definitely stronger but one of them is holding a machete and guess what? Not him.

She sliced his head clean off, turning and seeing her brothers fighting off the two remaining vamps. Y/N smiled a bit, before rushing over to help Dean. She kicked the back of the vamp’s knee, throwing her brother the machete. He’s about to swing it when the vamp turns, grabbing Y/N and pushing her back against a wooden beam.

Pain enveloped her body as she let out a strangled gasp, looking up into the vamp’s eyes with her own wide ones. The moment doesn’t last long before Dean slices his head clean off. Y/N looked down at her stomach, her breath shakey as her mind reeled, trying to process the situation. Something was pressed into her back, making her insides feel as though they were on fire.

“Hey, Y/N/N?” Dean spoke up, Y/N snapping back to reality, her eyes softening as she looked up at her brothers. “It’s okay, everything’s good, kid. Let’s get out of here.”

“I-I can’t...” Y/N responded, her bottom lip trembling.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Uhm...” Y/N struggled to catch her breath, her hand gesturing to her stomach. “I-ah—something... somethings got me, in my back, feels like it’s going right through me, ah-shit...”

Sam walked forwards as Dean remained rooted where he was, his face contorting into one of fear. The taller brother put his hand on Y/N’s shoulder, before reaching and touching her back as the girl hissed in pain. Sam pulled his hand back, his head snapping up to look at his sister when his palm came back painted red.

“That doesn’t look good.” Y/N murmured, Dean rushing over, seemingly surveying the scene.

“Okay, um, if we’re just careful we can pull you off—“

“No! No! Jesus Christ, haven’t you both watched TV? You pull me off I’ll bleed out instantly.” Y/N reasoned. “I’d... I’d die quicker.”

“Sam call for help.” Dean insisted.

“No!” Y/N shouted again.

Sam shook his head. “Y/N, we need to get you help—“

“—and explain the corpses laying around relieved of their heads? Besides, if help came I wouldn’t make it to the—“

“Stop. No.” Dean dismissed. “You aren’t... you’re not dying.”

Y/N bit her lip, shaking her head. “You know that isn’t true.”

Both brothers were silent, looking at their sister in despair and helplessness.

“Just... please... stay with me?”

Dean raised his hand to cup her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “Always.”

Sam walked over, Y/N grasping each of their hands in hers.

“I need you both... to find those two kids and get them somewhere safe.” She spoke to them, her eyes gathering tears.

Dean and Sam nodded, Y/N exhaling.

“And—uhm—Miracle’s food is in th-the lower l-le-left cabinet in the kitchen. A-And—“

“We’ve got it, sweetheart.” Dean reassured, his eyes moistening. “You don’t have to worry about all that.”

Y/N smiled sadly, a tear cascading down her face. “But I’m worried about y-you two.”

The two men became distraught, Y/N continuing. “I need you both to-to m-move on.”

“We’ll find some way, we’ll figure something out and bring—“ Sam began to reason, before Y/N interjected.

“No. No, please, d-don’t do that. Don’t try and bring me back. That ne-never has ended well.”

Sam truly began to cry, Y/N squeezing his hand. She smiled through her own tears, looking at the two men. “You’re my big brothers. I love you-you both s-so much.”

“It can’t end like this.” Dean begged, holding up and grasping Y/N’s hand. “It can’t...”

Y/N cringed in pain, the two brothers looking at each other distraught. A single tear dripped down Dean’s cheek.

“Re-remember when y-you both found me? That was the b-best d-da-day of my life.” Y/N sputtered out. “Y-You took m-me in an-and raised me. Th-Thank you. For be-being my brothers... whe-when you didn’t ne-need to, bec-because you wanted to.”

Sam nodded, Y/N smiling slightly at him as they both acknowledged her fate. She knew Sam would be okay. He was strong, and he could handle this. Y/N was sure of that.

But her smile faded as she turned her head to look at Dean, who was on the cusp of falling apart. Y/N squeezed his hand. “Dean.”

The man looked up at her with the most broken, sorrowful eyes. Y/N exhaled shakily, pulling her hand out of his grasp to lift it to his face, cupping his cheek. “I’m n-not leaving. I’ll al-always be... right h-here.”

She lowered her hand to his heart, Dean placing his large hand over her smaller one. Y/N smiled softly, feeling the darkness blur her vision.

“Pl-please... hold me...” Y/N’s voice cracked, the two brothers immediately pulling their arms around her. Sam sobbed into her shoulder as Dean placed his hand on the back of her head, still holding Y/N’s hand to his chest.

She could feel warmth envelope her body, but Y/N held off, fearful of what would happen if she left.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Y/N/N?” Dean asked, as tears silently traced down his cheeks.

“I need to kn-know you’ll be okay. I need you to—“ Y/N broke off as she swallowed a sob rising from her throat. “I n-need you to tell me you’ll both be o-okay.”

Dean’s grip on her hand tighted, the man squeezing his eyes shut before pulling away from embracing his sister, nodding through tears as he forced his ever-so-charming smile.

“Yeah sweetheart. We’ll be okay.” Dean sniffed, smiling as he struggled not to fall apart.

“You can let go.”

Y/N exhaled, her face loosening into a neutral expression, one full of peace and finality. She squeezed Dean’s hand one last time before her eyes fluttered shut, her body slacking into Sam’s.

The barn was silent as Dean felt her hand go limp in his, his façade morphing into shock as he struggled to breathe, Sam crying out.

Suddenly Dean’s face began to contort into a painful expression, the tears gathering as a sob ripped from his throat.

His baby sister was gone.

Y/N inhaled deeply, opening her eyes. A soft breeze blew through her hair, her eyes adjusting to her surroundings.

She stood in the valley of a beautiful mountain range, the foliage sporting beautiful shades of green, orange, and yellow. Y/N took a few steps forward, looking around. “Hello?”

“Y/N.”

The girl spun on her heel, stumbling back as her breath caught in her throat. John Winchester, her father, stood before her, considerably younger than when she met him for the first time in the bunker.

“Dad?” Y/N gasped out.

The man smiled, opening his arms. Y/N rushed towards him, wrapping her arms around him, letting her eyes close as she hugged him tightly.

John chuckled. “Welcome home, kiddo.”

Y/N smiled, truly smiled, as suddenly numerous visions flooded her head:

Dean, carrying a little girl through a park, her shirt embroidered with the name “Y/N”.

Sam, marrying Eileen and hunting with her.

A white picket fence in the front yard, photo frames scattered on shelves.

Sam teaching his son to play catch.

Dean, eating pie with his teenage daughter.

Y/N opened her eyes, her smile widening. Her destiny wasn’t so much as to die, though she had to. No, it was much more complex than that.

Y/N’s destiny was to give her brothers the lives they deserved.

“It’s good to be home.”

————————————————————

tags: @writeroutoftime

[writefightandflightclub]

Return to Sender: (Richard Alonso Muñoz x GN reader)

What is this? This is 4/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. I’m not gonna share the prompt as it’s spoilery, but it was requested by @sergeantkane​ who is a genius for picking this combo! It’s a prompt about LOVE LETTERS! Omg! And thus, it matches perfectly with Richard (trust me, I had NOT made that connection when I made the prompt list :P). Thank you so much for requesting, Clarke, and I hope you enjoy it. I’m excited about this one!

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Oh, I really quite like this one. Hope it makes you feel as soft as I did for Richard while writing it! Also- it’s my first bash at writing him, so let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who helped with film details too: those not already tagged in the post- @prurientpuddlejumper​ @witchyavenger​ @veuliee2​ @waatermelon-sugaar​ @pascal-isaac​

Word count: 4.5 k. So not a blurb, then? :P

Rating: Mature, for light steam (not explicit, but 18+ or out, please!)

Warnings: mentions of food/eating. Mild angst (but it ends well), Steamy. Kissing, brief non-explicit mention of erection. Implied coitus (cut scene). Richard works in a “correctional facility”. Small mention of attempted break-in. If I missed any let me know.

Tagging: @anetteaneta​ @isvvc-pvscvl​ @nowritingonthewall​ @supernovafeather​ (ONLY READ IF 18+)

GIF by @nathan-bateman​

“Have you ever received a love letter?” Richard wonders shyly, without looking up from his crossword puzzle, his long eyelashes fanned out as his gaze dances over the monochrome squares.

Meanwhile, your eyes snap up immediately from your magazine, which you are idly leafing through, a breath catching in your chest.

You bristle at the question, and yet Richard seems either entirely oblivious, or entirely determined not to look-up at you. Perhaps both. So, instead of looking, he simply slurps the dregs of his milkshake, and pushes his plate of waffle remnants further toward the far end of the diner booth.

When he finally raises his gaze – a gentle prompt for you to answer him- his eyes are large and shining under the fluorescent lights as he peers at you over his glass, dabbing at his thick moustache with a paper napkin shortly after.

“No, never,” you state sadly, heeding his prompt with a small smile and a shake of your head. Not even a love e-mail.

“I’m surprised,” he flatters with a cautious smile. And, if you’re not mistaken, his eyes light-up with the faintest trace of desire. The barest undercurrent of passion, which is enough to have your heart beating like a drum. You notice it sometimes; this dull heat emanating off of him. It is a spark which never ignites, however - to your endless disappointment; you would fan that flame if only you knew how.

You swallow. He’s surprised? He can’t be that surprised, you think, a stone sinking through your stomach as you dwell too long on the topic of love letters, and meanwhile, Richard’s attention seamlessly diverts back to 3 across.

“You deserve one,” he says, still looking at the page, but a smile animating his wiry moustache. “A letter.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, a spiralling sadness catching hold of you. Does he not understand what this is doing to you? This painful reminder? “Can we drop it, Richard?” you say tensely, and when his eyes meet yours again, they are even more soft and cautious than usual, causing you to admonish yourself for the bite in your tone.

“Yes,” he says. “Of course,” he smiles thinly, apologetically.

It’s simply the new job, you think. Director of Communications. The man has letters on the brain. Richard is so considerate, that you realise he must not intend to hurt you in dredging up the past; he would never. In a way though, you think, it’s even worse that he brings it up so… casually. You can only conclude he has forgotten that you sent your letter to him at all. Had your heartfelt words, declaring your love, had so little impact on him?

Maybe that’s it. After all, they seemed to have so little impact upon him at the time. What could you expect years later? On the other hand, you -apparently- remain rather sore about the topic, all this time later. It’s natural to be sensitive though, isn’t it? You’d written him a love letter and he didn’t write you back. He didn’t say it back. Didn’t feel it back.

And, perhaps it still stings so much, even all these years later, because you never did stop loving him, even if he never started loving you.

Feeling a sudden, overwhelming haste to leave, you thumb through the pages of your magazine so furiously that the next table turn their heads to look at you, until you find what you were searching for.

“Here, Richard. The article I mentioned. Dramatherapy for people who are incarcerated.”

You fold the magazine back on itself, fobbing it off on him with an unprecedented urgency, hurriedly signalling to the waitress that you’d like the check. The roomy diner booth suddenly feels suffocating, and you want to get out. Meanwhile, oblivious, Richard chuckles at the title of the article -some kind of pun, you recall- as you try to push down the unpleasant emotions surfacing within you.

“Thank you for this,” he smiles, looking up at you earnestly. Looking concerned as he reads the expression on your face. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes fix on the table, where his fingertips inch hesitantly across the surface, hovering moments from yours as he debates whether to extend comfort. You make the decision for him, snatching your hand back from his reach.

“Yes. I’m Fine,” you say, unconvincingly. “Can we please go? I need some fresh air.”

“Alright,” Richard agrees gently. He looks a little flustered, but, now sensing your urgency, he begins to sweep up his papers and to shrug on his jacket. He pulls out a small comb to fix his neat curls in place, and offers you a soft smile. “Maybe we can go to the park next?” he suggests.  

As much as you want to run, you nod, some of your agitation dissipating now that the prior topic seems to be forgotten. “Okay. Yeah. That would be nice.” You school your expression into something calm, and you offer him a reassuring smile as his soulful eyes dance over you, a lingering but unobtrusive concern there.

As you split the check, you tell yourself for the millionth time that being his friend is enough; but even after the millionth time, you can’t quite believe it.

Still, today -Sunday- is your one day with him this week. And, no matter what you can’t have; you’ll take anything you can get.

He’s too dear to you to settle for anything less.

************

One month later:

You crouch in amongst the boxes on Richard’s front lawn. He is having a clear-out, setting out some items for goodwill, and some for a neighbourhood yard sale happening next weekend.

You are having fun assisting him in sifting through various items, occasionally bursting into a fit of laughter when he reveals yet another ill-informed, late night shopping channel “bargain” – usually some new-fangled, scarcely-used exercise contraption, which he proceeds to demonstrate in good-humour, making you fold over clutching your stomach in mirth. Occasionally, as you rifle through the boxes, you’ll be overcome by a pang of sentimentality when he uncovers an item with a memory attached; and -no matter how useless- he usually sneaks said item into his ever-growing “to-keep” pile.

“But this is the picnic hamper we took to Bound Beach Island! For your birthday, remember?”  

“Yeah, Richard, but it’s battered! It has holes! It needs to go.”

“It was a beautiful day. The light and the dunes were beautiful… and… and y-“

“-Oh my goodness, what is this?! Please for the love of God tell me you never actually wore this!”

You work through the midday sun until you come to a tired, dead halt on the grass, finally parking your ass down and wiping your brow. Richard looks warm too, a “v” of sweat soaking his old, oversized “Save the Turtles” t-shirt. No - he really doesn’t throw anything away. You smile fondly, though, remembering his sea turtle phase. Of course, he’d read some article. He always was looking for a cause.

“I’ll make us some iced tea,” Richard announces with a tired puff of breath, looking more spent than he probably wants to admit after shuttling the various boxes. Still, the way his grizzled curls have fallen away from his harsh side-part appeals to you, sitting disobedient and undone on his forehead.

Thinking of him undone, you hear a faint beating of drums sound in your chest.

You ignore the music though, like always, instead smiling gratefully as he heads inside, and you take a second to collect yourself before dragging the nearest box towards you, deciding you may as well continue. This next box is taped securely shut, and you chuckle quietly to yourself when you notice it’s labelled “workout-gear”.

You peel the packing tape away and open it up, scooping out the pile of miscellaneous papers sitting right on top. Beginning to leaf through, you surmise it’s mainly unopened junk mail; mainly garishly printed promotional flyers - from a pizzeria which closed down years ago, you recognise. Probably hastily stuffed in before his last move and never dealt with. Absent-mindedly, you begin to bundle it up for the recycling pile, when a smaller, more humble envelope drops out on to your lap, a hand-scrawled address on the front. The stationary is resoundingly familiar.

In fact, everything about it is familiar.

Your heart hammers in your chest as it immediately dawns on you.

It’s your letter.

The letter you sent him, all those years ago. You’d needed to be apart from him- needed to go away to take care of family, and you simply couldn’t go without letting him know. Letting him know you were in love with him.

The memory is like a slow knife sinking into your chest as you idly turn it over in your hands.

But… It can’t be…?

It’s… unopened.

All the air leaves you lungs.

No. No. It doesn’t make a shred of sense.

You’d spoken to him right afterward, on the phone. The first time he’d called after you left town he’d almost pleaded with you, giving you an unequivocally clear, and endlessly painful answer that he didn’t want what you wanted. What you’d written about. He’d made it abundantly obvious that he simply wanted to be friends. “I- I don’t want anything to change. I want everything to stay exactly like it is between us – please? Can we still talk every day?”

But if he didn’t read it…?

You heart pounds so hard that you hear blood rushing in your ears.

He doesn’t know.

His words didn’t mean what you…

Oh my god. All this time.  

You shoot abruptly to standing when you see him approach, as if you’ve been caught red-handed, guiltily stuffing the letter into your back pocket before he can ask you what it is, an abundance of thoughts screaming in your head.

He hands you the glass of tea, ice tinkling gently, and you take it from him, the coolness shocking your palms.

Assessing what you’ve been up to in his absence, and noting the carcass of another box, Richard glances down at the pile of papers strewn at your feet. He looks suddenly worried for a moment, as if you might have found an old porn stash or something – and he looks just as suddenly relieved when he sees they are more innocent papers, scooping them up from the grass.

“Richard?” you say, your eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, and the letter burning a hole in your pocket as he drops the items into the recycling. He hums for you to go on. “Do you... You know when I moved away...?” your voice is strained, and you gulp hard. “Just before, do you remember getting any unusual letters or... weird post from me?”

“Like what kind of thing?” he asks curiously, turning back to you.

“I don’t know exactly,” you lie, nervously. “I have a feeling I sent you something? A sappy goodbye thing?”

You see him mull it over, combing his impressive moustache with his fingers. “I don’t remember, sorry. But apparently I was drowning in junk mail at that apartment. Maybe it got lost, or returned to sender?”

Despite everything, you exhale a small laugh. In a roundabout way, you suppose it had been returned to sender after all. You look at the ground.

“Was it important?” he asks, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand as he looks at you.

Biding time, you take a sip of your tea while you search for an answer. It’s refreshing.

“It… Uh. It was a long, long time ago. Doesn’t matter now, I suppose,” you muse, masking your sadness, and he nods, looking at least half-satisfied with your answer.

Except, it does matter. It matters more than anything. And, with a sudden, overwhelming need to grab on to the past, you track to the “to go” box, rescuing the battered picnic basket from the pile of junk.

“You shouldn’t get rid of this,” you state, your back to Richard, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice falters. You tense as you feel him settle by your side, his hand hovering tentatively at the small of your back but never quite touching. “It was a beautiful day.”

“No,” he insists. “You’re right. I shouldn’t hang on to it.”

His words are like a punch in the gut. You turn your head to your side, where Richard is, your eyes and heart almost overflowing.

Noting your sadness, and connecting it to the picnic basket, he does everything he can to smooth things over, like always. “We can get a new one,” he says, his brown eyes sweet and hopeful and bright.

You love him. You love him still and you can’t help but turn towards him and reach out your arms, dragging him in for a hug.

“No! No, I’m sweaty,” he protests self-consciously, but you don’t care. You just need to hold him, even only for a moment – and, for a moment he stills as you loop around him, never quite clutching you back.

When you pull away though, you could swear that dim spark of passion is present in his eyes again. That spark that never catches, no matter how much or how often or how hard you wish it would. Oh, how you wish.

“Don’t ever change, Richard,” you say sincerely, your voice imbued with fondness. “Okay? You’re a sweet, wonderful man.”

His eyes are immediately soft and bashful again, the colour of his cheeks deepening a little, a crimson undertone blooming under his brown skin.

“Yes. Okay,” he offers, with a nod, his eyes creasing at the corners, and his posture even bolstered by the compliment, you could swear, his chest puffing out proudly.

For the rest of the afternoon, you ignore the unread words in the back of your pocket; but for the life of you, you can’t ignore those drums.

************

One month later:

You bundle the yapping, happy little white dog into your arms, relieved that she’s okay as her little tail happily beats against your arm.

“Are you okay, Lady?” you coo as she nuzzles her snoot into your face, eagerly lapping little kisses on to your cheek. “Thanks goodness, sweet little floof,” you baby-talk as your eyes quickly scan around Richard’s place, setting his spare key down on the kitchen counter.

You’d barrelled across town to get here, after receiving a call about an attempted break-in. His neighbour to the left had your contact details in case of an emergency -it’s not very easy to reach him at work, of course- so here you are. You came to give things a quick checking over, assured that no-one suspicious had continued to loiter. Richard won’t be much longer -his shift has nearly ended, and you’d left him a voicemail so you’re sure he’ll hurry- but you still thought you’d go on ahead of him, especially so that he wouldn’t worry about Lady.

Looking around, thankfully all seems well, and you don’t think anyone made it inside after all. Slowly then, you allow your nerves to calm and your heart to settle, bouncing the little bundle of fur in your arms, and feeding her a treat from the packet on top of the microwave, just in case she’d been stressed out.

Calming, you can’t help but smile as you look around, absorbing all the little details of Richard. You do hang out in his apartment a fair amount, but most often you will meet or sit outdoors, when the weather allows. After all, he loves to feel the sun and fresh air on his face, especially after spending all day cooped-up in windowless rooms. To you though, this Richard-ness is like a breath of fresh air, and you let it all wash over you, drinking in the details of his simple daily routine. The discarded half-plate of frijoles and rice by the sink. The ironing-board piled with identical uniform-issue shirts, pants, and plain white t-shirts. The photos on the fridge door – some of you and him too.

Doing a lap of the living space, you further note the dining-for-one TV table, evidence of his relatively solitary existence, and you can almost see him sitting there. Can almost hear his soft voice relating the far-fetched storylines of his favourite telenovelas. You imagine him chuckling warmly - perhaps shedding a tear sometimes too.

You decide you should pop your head into the bedroom and bathroom to check there too, for good measure, and you set Lady down, the dog trotting along at your heels. Once you’ve done a loop, you sigh, seeking out a fresh task, and you circle back to the sink, scraping his discarded plate and rinsing it, stacking it in the dishrack. Then, you move towards the TV chair, intending simply to sit yourself down and wait for Richard to come home. After all, you’re here now - you may as well say hello; or, maybe you can even prepare him dinner after his long shift, you muse.

As you revisit the small, rickety table, however, your eyes more keenly notice that a bunch of papers are strewn over it, all identical- a series of pastel pink leaves of paper and envelopes.

Letters.

Handwritten, in his familiar scrawl.

Letters addressed to you.

Your brow furrows in confusion, as you wonder what they could be. You don’t want to invade his privacy, of course, but perhaps this is something that’s meant for you? After all, sometimes he leaves you notes when you come over to feed or walk Lady.  

Still, this feels different, and, with a lump in your throat that you don’t quite understand, you pick up one of the leaves at random, skimming the first line, yet feeling only more confused than you did before.  

You see your name at the head of the paper, followed by the words “my dearest love,”, and underneath, some other half-formed paragraphs, scribbled over and crossed out.

No, you shake your head, your stomach flipping over. That can’t be right, you think, even as your fingers scramble for another leaf - for leaf upon leaf, until you piece together what’s going on. Until, with every line you read, fragments of both English and Spanish, you feel as though you are piecing together his heart.

Could it be true? Is this really true?

Your fingers dive for a sheet more developed that the rest, where you see paragraphs of writing, and you devour the words like you are starved of love; for you are, aren’t you? Starved? And yet, you suddenly feel so full. Brimming.

My darling,

There are infinite ways to fall in love. Some are elemental, like a raging fire. A shock of lightning on first sight. Some are slow-burning and constant, the heat of friendship warming your hearth, defrosting your iced fingertips when you come in from the cold.

There are infinite ways to fall in love, and I should know, my heart, as I have experienced every one of them with you.

You can barely read the rest as tears blur your eyes, and your hand comes to clamp over your mouth as realisation sinks through to the pit of you, the page quaking -like a leaf- in your fingers.

You make my heart beat like a drum. When I look at you, I am music, without being played. When you’re with me I am dancing, without movement. If only you would touch my skin, I feel like I would sing. If only you would-

“-Are you safe? Are you alright?” Richard asks from behind you, and you tear your eyes away from the page with a start. You were so absorbed by this swell of beating music that you didn’t hear the scrape of his key in the lock. You didn’t hear his hurried footsteps coming up behind you.  

“Richard,” you suspire, and for once his touch is on you without hesitation, his hands clasped around each of your shoulders, slowly running down your arms, and you nod quickly to reassure him, your mouth opening wordlessly. You’re safe.

His touch is warm through your clothes, and you think he is right- your skin would sing for him too if he touched you. Your love rattles you, like drums beating musically in your chest, pulsing through your body.

Then, Richard clocks your sideward, guilty glance at the pile of letters, and you see his panic instantly surface at the thought of all his unsent and unspoken words laid bare before you. All the pieces of his heart exposed.

At first, he looks apologetic, but then you step forwards a little more, into the circle of his arms. Arms which suddenly fall, unsure, at his sides once again. And, achingly slow, endlessly sure, you lift up you hand and you place it on his chest, over his heart, smoothing over his shirt and over the cool metal of the shield he wears there. You feel his heart really is beating like a drum. His chest is rising and falling beneath your hand, his breath quickened – eyes nervous.

You step a little closer, and your fingers continue their slow crawl, dancing up around his collar, inching further up until your fingers finally brush the bare skin at the nape of his neck, pushing up into the curls behind his ears, your thumb skimming his sideburn. You touch him, with your fingertips, and he does sing for you, a half-choked moan leaving his mouth at your tender caress.

“Richard,” you say breathily, searching his face, eyes openly appraising his beauty. “Don’t worry, sweet man. I love you too.” And, when you next meet his eyes there is no nervousness there. Not any longer. Instead, you find his dark, expressive eyes brewing with adoration, and that gentle but ever ascending note of passion.

“Darling, can I kiss you?” he pleads, his voice dogged by desire, his brow knitting together and his hands slipping bravely to your waist, circling you as you arch into him.

“Yes. Yes,” you say, and his mouth meets yours in a desperate, tumultuous crush. You sing too, your skin thrumming as you finally know the feeling of his thick moustache brushing against you. As you taste the sweet flavour of cherry sucker on his kiss. As you finally feel the texture of his slicked curls beneath your fingertips.

You kiss, urgently, until you are each smiling too broadly to continue, and instead Richard beams and presses sweet, intermittent kisses all over – your cheeks, your forehead, your hair, your neck- his moustache tickling wherever it touches. His hands are everywhere they can be politely, roaming over your back and your arms and your hair, and it feels so good to finally be held like this.

Eventually, he pulls back, his smile no longer tugging at his lips so keenly -lips now kiss flushed with deep colour- but shining in his liquid eyes. “How long have you loved me back?” he asks in a still choked, disbelieving voice.

You bite your lip, but then allow your face to split in a radiant, unrestrained grin.

Always. Always. I loved you first, you think.

You reach for your bag, reluctant to break from him so trailing your love’s hand in yours- and you fish out the letter. The one you’ve carried around since it was returned to you. “Take a look, Richard,” you encourage.

He looks from you to the small envelope, turning it in his spare hand as you pass it to him. “What is this?”

His brows rise in confusion as you tap the stamped postmark with your index finger. Years. Years ago.

“I sent you a letter,” you explain. “Telling you I loved you. That I love you,” you correct, squeezing his hand tightly in yours, amazed at how natural it feels already, to touch him.

He audibly gasps in air, looking pained. Devastated. “I never got it. I would’ve-“, he fumbles for words, but he can’t finish them, the magnitude of all those years lost to yearning too big to wrap his lips around. “I never got it,” he repeats sorrowfully.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about that now,” you soothe. “I got your letter.” And, as you engulf him with your arms a soft smile takes over his features once again. He can’t help it.

“I’m so glad you did,” he beams, drawing you to him for another kiss, which you eagerly accept, opening your mouth to him.

God, he’s a good kisser, his tongue in you deep and eager, and the heat generated is quick to catch, a fire lit in the pit of you. That moustache is a divine thing too, his lips soft and full beneath, his mild-mannered tongue positively sinful as it works against yours.

Letting the kiss grow, you grab hold of him by the belt to draw his body closer to yours, arching your hips into his, and you feel an impressive bulge greet you as you do so.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers bashfully, angling his hips away from you, in case you’re not ready for… that yet. “You’re perfection. So perfect, I… I’m a little bit, uh, excited.”

You don’t blame him. You’re a little bit excited too. There’s a drum beating in your chest. Music in your heart. A song everywhere. A dance in your body.

“W-would you like to take me to the bedroom, Richard?” you purr, softly. “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

You wish you could capture the bliss which sparks in his eyes then, and keep stoking it forever more. His whole being glows as if you are the sun shining down on him. He loves the sun on his face. He loves you.

He loves you.

*******

Later that night:

At some point after round three, Richard is ravenous, and so you head to the kitchen to grab some snacks. One of Richard’s plaid shirts wards off the slight chill, settled over your otherwise naked body. As you microwave something quick, you can barely keep the smile from your face – even more so as you glance over at the table full of half-finished letters. As the microwave pings and you grab out the plate, another idea occurs to you, and you simply can’t help yourself.

So, you pad mysteriously back towards the bedroom, where Richard is waiting. The blanket is slung low over his hips, skimming the dark trail of hair which draws your gaze down beyond his abdomen. He is covered, and yet you bloom blissfully with heat at your new-found knowledge of what lays beneath. He’s laying with one hand folded behind his head, and one hand rested on the soft, roundness of his stomach, which you had laid your head on only moments ago.

Richard’s eyes shine with unadulterated admiration as you enter, and you flash him a mischievous smile as you transfer the plate to his hands, and subsequently tip a cascade of his letters into the middle of the bed.

“What’s all this?” he asks, with a contented laugh as you bounce eagerly into bed by his side, humming in equal contentment as you slot yourself under his arm.  

“I want you to read them to me. Will you?” you ask, sweetly, and he looks bashful all over again. “No-one has ever sent me a love letter.”

“Me neither,” he chuckles. “Or I thought so…”

He hesitates, perhaps feeling shy, but he wraps his arm around you securely, nuzzling you into his side as he picks up the closest leaf of paper.

He hums gratefully as you begin to stroke his smooth chest. He really does sing whenever you touch him.

“They’re not finished,” he caveats. “I wanted to find the perfect words and I… I couldn’t.”

“The words don’t have to be perfect. It’s more important that they’re delivered,” you say, your voice soft as you sink into him, and so, he gently clears his throat and he begins to read, his words and his rich, soothing voice filtering over you like warm sunshine.

After a moment listening, and letting his love and his letters envelop you, you interrupt him gently. “My sweet man. Promise me you’ll never write me another love letter?”

“Are they that awful?!” Richard exclaims.

“No!” you laugh, into his chest, tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes. “They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. It’s just… I think I hate love letters, Richard. They’ve only ever kept me from you.”

His expression becomes wistful, lost in thought until a smile finally captures him. Then, with a finger curling gently under your chin, he dips down to plant a small kiss to the very tip of your nose.

“No more letters then,” he promises softly. “Let’s always promise to say it out loud from now on. Let’s talk every day.”

You heart full, you bring your hand up to caress his cheek, before planting a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips; and, despite what you’d just suggested, you plead for him to keep reading to you, his voice and his love lulling you to sleep in his arms.

With the love letters as kindling, your dim spark finally catches, your fire now blazing. You set it in a hearth in your chest, and you vow to keep it stoked for always.

THE END

Bonus:

[mcmystery]

“By My Name” (Cerise & Mr.B)

Midway on their trip to Haven, two travelers took rest at a local inn on the outskirts of a passing town. By foot they took their journey as instructed by the leader of the two, a skilled Huntsman going by the last name Brunswick. He carried little for his trip, with only the clothes on his back, his weapon, and a briefcase that contain what he described; a precious set that binds fidelity.

He took the lead on their faraway journey, with a smaller female companion in tow. She introduced herself to the young Huntsman just a couple of weeks prior as Cerise Han. They met under a particular situation, which included her aiding him during a grimm ambush. It was that quick scene of events where he witnessed something special about her. Even though it conflicted with his work, he decided to let her join him, in hopes to teach her more about her own skills and how to defend herself. With Cerise joining him, she also traveled lightly with the clothes she wore, and nothing more than a backpack filled with light essentials: a pair of pajamas, extra undergarments, a journal with half the pages ruffled from use, a pen, a small wallet filled with a bit of Lien and a medium size map of Anima.

It’s a bit past evening, the sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon. The blue hues of the sky gradually faded into gentle shades of reds and pinks. A distance a way from the inn is an open field that was fenced by a row of trees that led into a dense forest. Cerise began to walk into the open field when she took notice of her traveling partner approaching her. He was returning from picking up a meal for them both and just happened to catch her at the right time.

Cerise smiled happily at his approach and waved at him as he shortened the distance to her. Carrying a paper bag filled with the delicious contents inside, he continued to walk to her with so much of a neutral expression across his face. Within a few yards between them, he finally greeted her back.

“Woman, have you done the training I’ve instructed you to do?” Asking as the last few steps came in front of her.

Cerise, a bit taken back, not by his tone or the way he greeted her, but with the way he referred to her. She thought for a second and then confronted him softly. “Why do you refer to me like that?” She asked curiously.

The taller individual looked at her and tilted his head a bit, with a soft hum in confusion.

“You tend to call me ‘Woman’ sometimes, especially when it comes to anything related to training.” She chuckled softly. Hearing it out loud, the male subtly pulled his head back at the realization, his eyes shifting to the side as if searching for an explanation for his choice of words.

His gaze shifted a bit back and forth to her, then away, “I, um…”

“We’re traveling together, so it’s okay to use my name all the time!” Cerise encourage with a gentle and friendly tone.

There was a pause between them as he thought about it for a short while. He readjusted his posture, eyes wondering away as his head tilted slightly towards that direction. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting them open again with his view only on her.

“It’s an old habit of mine, I apologize.” He spoke tenderly.

Cerise nodded, holding a heartwarming smile to him and before she could answer his question, he interrupted her before she could even get a syllable out.

“Miss Han, have you done your training yet?”

Cerise felt as if a weight had smack her on the top of her head as a new name was given to her. Of course, it is her name, but not the way she wished for him to refer to her as such. She smiled awkwardly and he could read her expression perfectly.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” The dark hair male mentioned more as a statement than a question. The paper bag crinkled a bit as his tenseness of getting it wrong again.

Cerise wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh and let it be or try to encourage him to try again. “It is… but it’s a bit formal, don’t you think?”

He stood, placing his free hand on his hip while the other was still preoccupied in holding their precious meal. His eyes shifted away again for a second and back at her, “What’s wrong with that? I want to be respectful.”

Cerise could understand a bit where he was coming from. His up bringing was way different than hers, on top of being a huntsman, and the kind of title he holds; she can understand that’s just the way he is. Yet, she just wanted her name to be used, not a name that sounded like someone else’s, but hers.

“There’s nothing really wrong with it, but it just sounds like you’re referring to my mom is all.” She mentioned with a soft laugh as she turns away slightly. “I guess I just want to have my own identity with you.”

The older male took what she said to heart. In the moments that they shared together, he slipped into past habits that he had trouble controlling at times. Letting them slip by most of the time without considering the other party. He needed to break past that, for Cerise’s sake.

“I’ve been… inconsiderate to you.” He began, “Truth be told, I struggle with my own identity at times, and I feel like I’ve projected that onto you without consideration to how that might make you feel. I…” He trailed off.

A gentle breeze passed through them; it carried the soft sounds of the grassy fields fluttering behind the two. “It shouldn’t be an excuse, with all the tasks I have to take care of, the importance of this trip and now helping you; I’ve been unfair to you. I hope you can forgive me for being insensitive.” He finished with a humble tone, giving her a true apologetic look in hopes she can spare him just this.

Cerise stunned by his speech, stumbled on her words. “H-hey, I mean, you got a super busy job, and I can tell there’s a lot on your mind. I won’t hold it against you since I can understand it’s easy for you to get distracted and slip up at times. Some habits are hard to break out of, but if you’re trying to overcome them, then I can’t get upset at you for that.”

He looked at her grateful for her understanding, relieved that he could mend his mistakes and stay on good terms with her. It felt comforting to know that she’s a gentle individual who is easy to speak with. He respected her honesty and wasn’t going to take that for granted.

Cerise caught his attention by leaning towards him and catching his glance, “I forgive you, yeah? And if you want to give me respect like you said, then use my first name!” She stated cheerfully. Holding a bright smile to him as her cheeks blushes from happiness of being able to express herself to him freely.

“Of course,” He agreed with relief, his eyes wandered towards the ground between them only to be picked up back to hers, which warmly expressed such blissful feelings radiating from that gentle admiration towards him.

He could feel himself struggling internally but managed to push out with a low tone that was rarely heard from him, “Cerise…”

Her breath was caught in her throat at the sound of him calling her. He’s said her name before on normal occasions, but at this moment it just sounded different to her ears. Maybe it’s because of the conversation they just had that holds weight to his tone. Either way, she could tell there was a difference in the way he spoke her name in this moment that made her heart skip a beat. She could feel the skin on her cheeks began to heat up and most likely display a flustered appearance. As her heart picked up in pace, her hands came up to hide whatever expression she was displaying.

“Cerise?” He said again with a tint of concern. Which flustered her more so since he took notice of her obvious reaction.

“Yeah?” She muffled behind her palms.

“It’s okay to say your first name, right?” He asked to find confirmation.

“Yeah.” Speaking again into her hands.

Her male companion dropped his shoulders in relief and smiled at her display. Seeing her reacted the way she did, warmed his heart slightly. He took a deep breath and let it out without worry. As he did, the crinkling sound of the paper bag still in his arms reminded them of their meal.

“Why don’t you take a day off for training today.” he began. “We can pick it up again tomorrow evening at a new location; let’s take the evening off to enjoy this meal and relax.”

Cerise peaked out from behind her hands and stared at him, “You sure? I thought you said it was important I stick to my training?”

He began to turn before walking away back to the inn, “I did say that, but its also important to rest.” He nodded his head towards the inn, “Let’s head back, Cerise.”

She perked up at the sound of her name now, it sounded more casual than before, like how she’s normally used to hearing it from him. She nodded with a hum of approval and took a few steps his direction as he started his walk back. Cerise caught up with him and in a playful joke referred to him, “Lead the way, Mr. Brunswick.”

[oh-my-may]

Tsukishima, Sakusa and Osamu having a childhood crush on older! reader

requested: If you're not bussy ☺️ please write Headcanon for, Tsukishima, sakusa, and Osamu who has a Crush on childhood friend Older!s/o (like 5 years apart) ☺️🥺 They propose the her once when they were little and she replay "I'll marry you, if you grow taller then me"  It just so cute in my head.. ☺️😊 How are they will reapproach them years later when they surpassing their s/o height 🥰 Love your work btw 💕💕 

This?? Is such a cute idea ckdksks MY HEART <<<<333 I hope I did it justice :D

Also Osamu’s one is waaayy longer than the other two I’m sorry I got lost halfway through :D

warnings: underage(??) drinking in Osamus part, though it’s not underage in my country lol

Tsukishima Kei:

As children you guys were inseperable, your houses literally being on the other side of the street. The age difference between you never mattered when you guys were playing around.

You were as old as his brother and therefore you often came over to meet with hum, but Tsukki would always end up joining, especially after his brother started playing volleyball, you would always join in with Tsukishima.

Everything was great for a while, you would come over practically every day or they would visit you and then you would spend the rest of the day chilling and playing, until you and Akiteru got into Middle School and puberty hit you. Due to your age you were always a bit taller than Kei, but you grew even more.

Kei always had a crush on you, you being the only girl he only ever hung out with. You always talked to him about Dinosaurs or volleyball or music and he thought - since you shared most of his interests - why not propose? It made sense to 8 year old Kei. “Y/N... Would you marry me?”

You started to laugh and poor Kei got very confused. He was being serious about this. You saw his kinda shattered expression and froze, looking at him with a grin. You pet his head and said: “If you ever grow taller than me, then yes.”

And so the years passed, and gradually you spent less time with the Tsukishimas. You found a bunch of new friends in school that you regularly hung out with, and even though you still saw Akiteru in school and talked to him, walked home with him... You barely ever saw Kei. He seemed to grow a little more distant, he didn’t come to family gatherings anymore and rather just hung around in his room, listening to music. But frankly, you actually didn’t notice.

So eventually you graduate High School and live your life, though sometimes you still meet up with Akiteru to chat. And one day, he tells you about his younger brother. “Kei joined the volleyball club I was part of, remember? Little giant and all? Yeah, of course you do. And guess what - they actually made it to nationals! The first time since then!”

You are very surprised to hear this, though you’re glad and happy for Kei. What Akiteru suggests next though comes as a surprise to you. “I have plans for watching them as least once in Tokyo, wanna join?” And even though you haven’t seen Kei or spoken to him in quite some time, you say yes. And that’s how you end up in the Tokyo gym, swarmed by tall teenage boys and hundreds of guests. Akiteru drags you along with him through the crowd of people, determined to greet his younger brother before the game. And honestly? You feel a little excited to see Kei again, to see how he’s grown since his childhood.

You finally find the boys standing in front of a huge door that clearly leads to the inside of the gym. At first you don’t even notice, but when Akiteru calls his name a very tall, blonde boy turns around, looking startled. You’re a bit shocked to look into the face of the now 16 year old boy. He’s clearly grown since then.

Kei looks at his brother for a minute before his glance wanders over to the person he’s brought along - you. Suddenly his eyes widen a bit and his heart stops for a minute. He swears his entire life was flashing in front of his eyes - well, at least the part of his life he shared with you. All the moments you guys played as kids, runned around the backyard, talked, laughed... And now you were here? So many years after this?

“Y/N what are... what are you doing here?” The words tumble out of his mouth uncontrollably and theres a slight tint of pink appearing on his cheeks. “Ya, what’s that? Is Tsukishima flustered?” One of his team members come up beside him. He has a shaved head and tries to casually rest his elbow on Kei’s shoulder, but he fails. You notice how tall he has gotten - clearly taller than you. You have to laugh but also feel you skin heat up when you remember his question and your promise from 8 years ago.

“Why are you laughing now?” Kei seems a little helpless and confused, just like back then. It almost makes you laugh even harder. Does he even remember it? You softly place your hand on his arm, looking up into his face. His eyebrows are raised, they surpassed the lines of his glasses. “Kei...” you begin, but when you see how curious his brother and his members look at you, you lower your voice. “Remember when we were children... One day you asked me a very peculiar question and I answered with a promise.”

His head shoots up immediately and you see blood flushing his cheeks and ears in a violent red. His expression seems more than shocked and for a second he even chokes on his own breath. You grin, leaving him like that. “Rock the game, yeah? I don’t want to have travelled this far just to see you fail in the first round.” Kei is still frozen in the spot, though in the game hsi brother tells you how he seems even more focused and determined than before.

You may have teased Kei right there, but from then on you began hanging out with the Tsukishimas more, visiting them as often as you could when your career didn’t take over your life. And maybe, eventually, Kei asks you out after his graduation and this time you take it seriously and don’t make another promise.

Sakusa Kiyoomi:

As children your grew up in the same neighbourhood and your parents would always take you to the same playground.

You noticed the young boy immediately - every now and then between playing in the sand he would go to his mother and she would clean his hands thoroughly with wipes and sanitizer. That got you interested very quickly. So you just walked over and sat down next to him and his mom, watching as they would repeat the same procedure over and over again, until you eventually ask: “Why are you doing this?”

And this little boy just looks up at you and starts explaining how he doesn’t like dirt and why you, too, should clean your hands like this. So you try and after you do, the boy drags you along across the yard saying how other kids don’t like playing with him because of his habits. You’re a bit taken aback by this - even though you’re older, you’re still gonna be friends with this younger boy. He’s like 6 or 7 at that time and from then on you met him on the playground almost every day. And every day, you’d go to his mom to clean your hands properly and then go play with “Omi-chan”, as you called him.

And Sakusa would honestly admire you, treasuring you as his closest friend. Even though he was younger and smaller than you, you accepted him and his habits and you still liked being around him. “Y/N... Will you marry me someday?” he bursts out one day, his big dark eyes looking up at you. And you take a second to look at his cute face - his round eyes, the curly hair, the snub nose, his soft cheeks. You grin and your hand moves from the top of his head to yours. “Maybe when you’ll grow taller than me.”

And so time went on, until you got to Middle School and then High School. You grew closer and when you were older you stopped hanging out at the playground and rather met at your houses, the only safe and clean places he trusts. You even adopt some of his habits, like cleaning your hands etc. You make it a whole ceremony to clean your rooms together before hanging out.

And even after you got into college you’d still find time for him. Calling him every now and then, watching some of his games and meeting up with him whenever you were home. And of course you notice him growing up, too. The way his hair grows a bit longer and hangs into his face, his sharper jawline, the shape of his eyes. And - his height. When he was 15 he finally surpassed your height, but you both had forgotten about your little conversation at this point.

Until your mom hosts a garden party and his family is invited, too. They make you both take a photo together and when Sakusas mom looks at it, she suddenly remembers and hands her son an older camera, a video waiting to be played on the screen. You both exchange a confused look before you press play and you see the two of you as children, thoroughly cleaning your hands, the playground in the background. Sakusa looks up at you and says “Will you marry me some day?” and that’s when Sakusa stops the video, his eyes a little widened and the tips of his ears painted in vibrant red. At first you’re a little confused, as you wanted to see what you responded to his question back then, but when you look at your friend you suddenly realize and giggle.

Sakusa thinks he’s about to sink into the ground because of embarrassement. He never thought about his feelings for you as a crush since he didn’t know better. He always thought all friends act and feel like this and over the years, as he realized he was actually in love with you, he couldn’t picture himself with someone else. You were so considerate, so accepting. Never once in your life did you think of him as weird, you never disrespected him or made fun of him. And after all, you were always the one accompanying him to events and he did the same for you. And when he looked at you now - all grown up, confident, pretty, your curious eyes scanning his face - he thought about how he was never brave enough to admit his feelings for you. Not like this. And certainly not in front of you.

“Y/N... I know this might come across as weird now, because we’ve known each other for so long, and I know you’re and adult now and I barely just graduated High School but... I want to show you that I’m not that little boy from the video anymore.” He gulps when he looks at your face, your eyes still looking at his, a slight smile on your lips.

You sigh and place your hands flatly on his jacket, over his chest. “But Omi-chan... I already now that. Although if that was your way of asking me out on a date, then take this as a yes.”

Miya Osamu:

Your mom worked as freetime volleyball coach/trainer for children and sometimes you would accompany her, wanting to see what she was doing and also seeing a chance in getting to know new friends

So you’re casually in the small gym, watching as all the younger children throw around balls, laughing and chasing each other. You’re distracted, so you don’t see the ball flying straight into your face, causing you to stumble and fall. When you look back up, there’s a boy about 5 or 6 looking into your face, a curious expression on his face rather than a worried one. “Did that hurt?” He looks back up, his face turned to someone you can’t see. “Tsumu, I told you not to punch the ball like that!” What follows is a sequence of words you don’t understand, coming from the other end of the gym. You stand up on your own and follow his gaze. You rub your eyes as you see another boy standing there, looking just like the one next to you. A little irritated you look in between them a few times, before the one next to you dryly says: “That’s my twin brother, Atsumu. I’m Osamu by the way... And I’m sorry about the ball.” He points at your face, that frankly hurt a bit, it felt hot and will probably get red in the next minutes. Osamu turns to his brother again. “It was simply because my brother can’t handle the ball well!”, he shouts and his brother sticks out his tongue for it.

And so it began and you would join your mom more often from then on, watching the twins play volleyball and develop over time. They would always come up to you and ask who did better, who improved more etc... You were older than them after all, they trusted your judgement.

You would grow particularly fond of Osamu, since he was the one who seemed to care more for you, he was nicer to you and always come up to you in between practice sessions. At first he only asked about volleyball, if you play too or why not and so on, but when you came often he’d get more interested in you. And he was barely in Primary School, you were the only girl he knew closer and you were so... mature to him. He developed a cute little childhood crush on you. “Y/N, we should marry.”, he states one day. For a moment you’re a little surprised, but you laugh and squish his cheeks. “Maybe when you grow taller than me, Samu-chan~” you tease him.

And so it would go on for a while, years even. Throughout his Primary School years he’d always come to your moms little practice sessions together with his brother and at least one time a month you would hear the same question. “Will you marry me, Y/N?” and you would always answer the same. “If you ever grow taller than me, yes.” His brother very quickly notice his brothers behaviour and tease him. Sometime later, they were already in Middle School then, it’s Atsumu who approaches you. Of course you don’t notice, since they had the same hair back then. He even styled it like his brother, so there was no difference. Atsumu thought maybe, since he was a bit flirtier, he could settle something for his beloved twin. But he gets caught mid act and Osamu is furious. Let’s say this might or might not be the final reason why they color their hair different colors.

Over the years however, even though Osamus crush on you stays, he doesn’t ask you the question anymore. During puberty he gets way too embarrassed over all his past actions towards you, especially since you were older. You literally had a boyfriend, and yet his 11 year old self still asked. His toe nails were starting to curl just when he thought about it.

He never forgets, though. But even when he does eventually grow taller than you in his first year in High School, he still doesn’t say a thing. Of course he doesn’t, you’re in college at that point and probably already made out with so many guys... His blood was boiling just thinking of it, even though he knew he was being unreasonable and childish.

On the twins 18th birthday, they throw a big party. And of course you’re invited, you’re basically their oldest friend and have followed their “career” since the beginning. Both the twins are stupid drunk in no time and you sit down with Osamu after a wild round of beer pong. He’s completely out of it, his words almost incoherent but they still make sense. You literally heave him onto the couch and sit down next to him, still laughing. For a moment it’s just the two of you, him a lot more drunk than you, the music blaring in the background, lost in your thoughts. Until Osamu speaks up, the alcohol getting the best of him.

“You know how... When we were children... Well no, when I was a child... I’d always ask you stupid questions??” he goes, one index finger raised as he explains. The alcohol in your blood and getting to your brain makes you laugh at it. He still looks at you expectantly though, like he’s waiting for your answer. So you nod. “You always asked me if we would marry one day. Like... A lot. 10 times a year or so.” He nods exaggerated. “Yessss, and you’d always, ALWAYS, say, that you’d do it when... When I get taller than you.” That’s when he pushes himself up from the couch with big effort and looks at you, a dark expression on his face. He stays like that for a while, his face neutral but his eyes determined. Until he literally falls on top of you, the alcohol making him stumble around. You giggle, and Osamu apologizes a hundred times, though he likes the feeling of your arms magically wrapping around him. It’s like a reflex of yours, you couldn’t stop yourself. “You alright?”, you ask quietly. Your faces are barely inches away from each other and he still has this certain look in his eyes, that almost makes you shiver. You always thought of Osamu as a younger brother, but ever since he got into High School and he grew taller and muscular, but also his demeanor maturing, you sometimes caught your mind wandering off... Like now. He makes a vague face before he just leans in and presses his lips to yours, capturing them in a really sloppy drunk kiss. But it’s fine, you both enjoy it. When he leans back, a smug smile traces lips. “Now I’m alright. More than that, even.”

You drunkenly make out for quite some time that night, Atsumu filming some of that in the same state as you, just so he can show his brother what he accomplished. Eventually you both pass out on the couch and when you wake up it’s a little awkward at first, until you nudge him and say that you’ll give him a chance, now that he was an adult and taller than you.

[distilled-prose]

Nine Seventeen Twenty-One

Dearest California, It's been quite the while since I've been this direct. It was another one of those dreams of fantasy you used to induce, even induce in abstentia. I woke remembering just this bit, but had the notion the story had a much larger beginning than what I was recalling. I was in Heathrow Airport, a young man, most likely in my late twenties. Many people, but not all, were wearing masks. It was a busy time of the day. Across the terminal from me, in front of a souvenir shop, a young woman, also most likely in her late twenties, was using sign language to request anyone who might understand her if they would be so kind as to help her with her work. She did not wear a mask. She was trim, in an athletic kind of way, and wore brown pants and a green, not too bulky, sweater. An airline pilot, older gentleman with graying hair, wearing a mask who obviously did read sign language signed back he had no time and hurried off to his gate. One of her clients, a young twenty something who was also masked, signed her he didn't think she'd get anyone to help.

But the pilot comes back and signs with the woman agreeing to help with her work, a kind of ministry to the terminally ill. (As I write this I wonder at the symbolism of the woman being in an airport terminal seeking workers for the terminally ill.) I'm still observing at this point, and the young woman is fully aware of my presence. An older woman approaches the woman, the girl doing the signing. She is the mother of the pilot and, speaking, thanks the woman for inspiring her son to help. She then goes into the shop to buy a post card to send her son telling him how proud she is that he has agreed to help. I approach the young woman to tell her how impressed I am with what she is doing. But the pilot's mother keeps interrupting, and it's hard for me to express myself. The mother leaves, finally, after finding the card she wants and the woman asks me if I would like to help. She does this without words and without signing. I explain that I can't imagine what I might do to be of service. But she takes me by the hand and we head down the terminal to a door marked "Employees Only". It's a bulky, rusty door, akin to a hatch on a ship. She opens it and we are outside in a cold autumn rain. Traveling about 50 yards, we go through another "Employees Only" door into a building's stairwell. It is a large space with a flat hallway to the left and a short flight of stairs in front of us leading to a landing. At the top of the landing is another flight of stairs that go off to the left. We sit down on the landing to observe. Sitting halfway up the longer stairway are a pair of young adult men, street urchin looking guys, but too old to be described typically in that way. Their clothes are dirty and ragged. Their faces and hands and grimed. One of these young men has hair about sixteen inches long, sticking straight out in every direction, framing his face as in a star. They begin discussing with the girl what they are going to say. I am extremely confused about the context of it all, what they are talking about, what I am supposed to be learning from all this. But the girl directs my attention around the stairwell back to the hallway where two trolls are coming toward us to speak to the over-aged urchins. The trolls are about eight and a half feet tall, chunky humanoid beings, and they are in the process of haranguing a smaller (maybe only seven feet tall) ogre looking being who appears quite intimidated. The boys are rehearsing their request, saying they are not looking for consideration for all people, just themselves. But the girl lets them know that will not work. If any part of their request is deemed unacceptable, their entire request will be denied. I understand the girl to mean they should not be only focused on themselves, but on everyone. Then, in a fashion only dreams can follow, the girl shows me an image of a man, his wife, and their daughter. They are trying to get to their gate, but are required to stop along the way to scrape a stone wall, about five feet high running the length of the terminal way, with rock picks. The man and his family are moving toward their gate scraping this wall, but the man is not focused on the scraping. He hammers on the wall with the pick end of his hand held hammer just a little and then moves in the direction they are trying to go. He keeps telling his family "There, that's done. There that's done..." as he moves along. At one point a large deep pink crystal falls out from where the man was scraping. The girl, who by this time is slightly leaning against me as we sit there, points out "See, a ruby." No, I explain. It's too light to be a ruby. Rubies are red, every other color (of corundum) is sapphire. It's a pink sapphire.

She chides me for being such a stickler, jokingly inferring I'm a big know-it-all.

I put my arm around her, lightly pulling her toward me and I inadvertently (?) feel her breast under her sweater. I quickly move my hand but she is nonplused and puts her head on my shoulder. I am obviously falling madly in love but I have no idea what this girl's name is, let alone what her intentions might be. The trolls, the rock scraping family, and the overaged urchins all fade as I slowly wake, holding the girl.

[oneofyatosfollowers]

Yatori Week 2021- Day 6

@yatoriweek2021

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32090953/chapters/79500055

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13905660/1/Yatori-Week-2021

There were many reasons Hiyori and Yukine had been upset with Yato keeping his secrets. 

For one, they were dangerous to both him and the rest. Another was trust. That was something that bothered Yukine more than Hiyori; after all, she understood the many reasons why Yato didn’t tell them and she couldn’t blame him for it. But the reason that most upset Hiyori, was one that she had to face after he first disappeared.

Hiyori didn’t know Yato at all.

She knew nothing about him, couldn’t even take a guess as to where he would go. No favorite restaurant or bar, no other friends, no relaxing hobbies. And while there was once a time that wouldn’t have bothered Hiyori, that was no longer the case. Especially now, when they risked their lives for each other over and over.

Of course now, she knew more about him than anyone did. Yukine knew a lot but there were still aspects of Yato he didn’t understand yet. Yato had told them most of the important stuff, confirming or denying any questions or theories they had. But even so, Hiyori was just a speck. Just a sudden, minuscule existence in the grand scheme of the centuries of a god's life. Whether or not Yukine liked to think otherwise, there was no possible way for Yato to tell them about all his experiences in the one year he knew them. Considering they had trusted each other for less than that.

Unfortunately that didn’t change the fact that all those pieces, big and small, were a part of him. Parts that they-she- didn’t know. Yato was full of surprises and even though that was usually fun to experience, the distance between them didn’t become more apparent until right now. With Father being locked away in heaven, stuck in an immortal existence to keep Yato alive, the heavens ultimately proclaimed him dead in every other sense of the word. As such, his children were left in an odd sort of limbo between mourning and dealing with the aftermath of his punishment.

Since Nora was rightfully struggling with the adjustment, even though she had been living at Kofukus for the past couple months, most of the actual work had been left to Yato. He attended meetings in heaven, completed any paperwork, rounded up all the masks that escaped. He also located all of The Crafter’s storage houses, living spaces, and any other place he kept things for him or the masks. Heaven took care of most of it, preferring to keep his children away and out of suspicion; but Ameterasu left the fate of the main house to Yato. Out of either pity or consideration.

Originally, Yato and Nora were content to simply burn the estate house to the ground with all the contents and beasts inside. But Hiyori and the rest convinced them to at least look through it, saying it was okay to take the time instead of just cutting it off. In hindsight maybe the two didn’t want to go back to such a traumatic place (and maybe the others were just curious) but Hiyori could tell Yato had some longing to go there, safely. He and Nora had argued against anyone else going, even her and Yukine, but that opinion was ultimately swayed too. It was easier to do that nowadays, Yato wasn’t as stubborn as he used to be. Still bogged down by guilt of all kinds. But everyone promised the both of them they wouldn’t do or touch anything without permission and Yukine insisted on staying by Yato’s side.

That didn’t stop their jaws from dropping as they followed The Crafter’s children south along the coast and far up into the mountains. Yato and Nora decided to walk there, out of habit, and the rest had no choice but to do the same. An old stone staircase led from a small back road up into the trees. After about another mile, they met a driveway and a large bamboo fence. It was old, but clearly still used and well maintained. The height wasn’t anything extravagant- Hiyori knew she was the only one that couldn’t leap over it- but the large chains that crossed over the entrance warded others to stay away.

They waited patiently for Nora to unlock it before the doors swung open and they were met with a beautiful front yard and house. It wasn’t extravagant by any means but the yard was well kept with hydrangea bushes lining the fence and white pebbles accenting most of the plants and house. The house itself was rather grand. Far too nice for someone like Yato but everyone had the sense not to comment on it. The estate was very old fashioned, a traditional Japanese style with two floors and probably an attic. The white building had long hallways sticking off either side and thin wooden slats covering all the windows. They were the same dark wood as the naked support beams around the outside of the house and matched nicely with the dark pointed roof.

In fact the only “crafter” thing about the house was the handful of masks that slept in the front yard. Three of them looked like large deer, that raised their heads at the intruders but did nothing more. Some smaller ones skittered under the porch while two wolves dashed out to see the new guests, happy to finally see members of the family. With one nod from Yato and Nora, Bishamon dispelled these rather peaceful creatures. Hiyori didn’t try to think about it too much.

Nora unlocked the front door, sliding the wooden door open and letting the group into the mud room. For a moment everyone stood, unsure if they were supposed to take off their shoes, but when neither of The Crafter’s children did, they didn’t either. Down the hall to the left was the living room, straight ahead was the hallway and kitchen, and to the right were stairs to go up. Wordlessly, everyone separated and got to work. Since Yukine stayed with Yato, following him to the back of the house and down the right hallway to The Crafter’s workspace, Hiyori stayed with Nora in the kitchen. It was just as old as the rest of the house, mostly running on fire and various stone appliances.

“If you want to go with him, you can,” Nora said suddenly.

“Huh?” Hiyori jolted and dropped the tied trash bag, trying and failing to hide the fact that her thoughts were now upstairs. Nora didn’t say anything more, just leveled Hiyori with a polite but challenging look. Hiyori swallowed and looked down, attempting to hide her blush. There was no point in denying it, everyone in this house knew- and saw- that there was something between them.

“Hey Nora?” Kofuku peaked her head in the kitchen with Daikoku, Bishamon, and Kazuma over her shoulder, “we finished with the left side of the house. Except for Tenjin and Mayu who are still in the library. What else should we do?”

“If you walk straight out the back for a little less than a mile there is a holy spring. In the stream leading to it is a fruit net and laundry. There is also a garage in the back with Father’s sport’s car and Yato’s motorcycle. You can probably get rid of all the tools or something,” Nora said. There was another moment of stunned silence, something that has happened a lot since coming here, but everyone quickly delegated the work and left. Hiyori took a moment to drag the trash bags to the pile set neatly outfront on the porch before coming back. Before Yato agreed to let them come in, even with the promise they would not question or disobey his orders, he laid down several ground rules. One of which was that gods must always travel with their shinki, even from room to room. Apparently there were still masks that hid in the walls as security and Yato wasn’t sure how’d they act without their master. This was also the reason no one was to make any loud noises, or a ton of sudden movements. It was no wonder Yato and Nora were such naturally quiet people.

“I just- I don’t,” Hiyori started. She was cut off by Nora’s sigh as she worked to tape a box of glassware shut.

“Hiyori, I’m fine,” Nora stated, “this is my home. I’m not like Yato where I view this as a scary place, this is where I would go to feel safe and comfortable. It’s sad to see it go but this is hardly the first time we’ve moved. They’re just things.” The girl spoke as simply as ever, lifting the box and setting it atop the others for someone stronger to put in the mover’s truck one of Bishamon’s shinki drove. Ebisu offered to have a yard sale of The Crafter’s belongings after thoroughly cleansing them. He was planning on giving the money to Yato, who offered it to Kofuku, who decided to put it in a savings account for family emergencies.

“I know and that’s great. I just don’t want you to be alone, you know?”

“Then I’ll join Tenjin in Father’s study. We’re just about done here anyway,” Nora stood and wiped her hands on her hips. The cabinets in the kitchen were empty, the oven was cleaned out of wood and charcoal, and the floors were swept clean. Without another word, Hiyori opening and shutting her mouth, Nora left the room like a ghost. A shiver immediately ran up her spine and Hiyori’s fists squeezed. She couldn’t run, afterall she just got her tail fixed but still wasn’t able to leave her body, so there was no reason for her to go antagonizing phantoms. Down the hall and up the stairs Hiyori was stuck between two bedrooms. Fearing the thought of walking into the wrong one, Hiyori waited and listened.

“Isn’t this room bigger than ours?” Yukine said.

“Not quite but almost. I usually shared it with Nora.” Came Yato’s reply.

“All I’m saying is that this isn’t what I expected someone like you to have.” Despite the bratty tone, Hiyori could tell Yukine wasn’t angry. Nor was he blaming his dad. It sounded more like he was trying to have a normal conversation.

“That’s because I don’t. This isn’t my house,” Yato muttered, “and I never wanted any of my shinki to come anywhere near this place. Especially you.” His voice was muffled from behind the door that Hiyori awkwardly faced. She didn’t want to walk in on one of their moments, they needed that, but she wanted to make sure Yato wasn’t pouting.

“I know.” Yukine finally mumbled, dropping the facade he tried to wear. It was more Yato’s thing than his, Yukine could only ever wear his heart on his sleeve. She could sense the tension on the other side of the door and Hiyori knew she had to step in. Besides, she didn’t like having her back to the bedroom of that wretched man. The door slid open and Hiyori readied herself to settle messy emotions only to see Yukine giving Yato an awkward side hug, both of them crouching on the floor. Their heads were pressed together as Yukine rubbed Yato’s back up and down. Suddenly the blonde’s head popped up and looked at her.

“Hiyori,” Yukine said. It took a moment for Yato to raise his head and look over his shoulder. He wasn’t crying, he hardly even looked upset, but he did have that look in his eye. The one where he blamed himself for bringing some sort of misfortune on them.

“Hey ‘yori,” Yato gave her a smile, “Yukine’s being a good kiddo and guide. Makin’ sure I’m doin’ alright.” The two separated as she walked in. She smiled at Yukine’s blush.

“That’s wonderful. I just came up here to see if you needed help. We just finished the kitchen.” Hiyori said as she knelt down. On the far wall were two large closets, the right one Yatos, the left one Noras, above was more storage that they seemed to make little use of save for some awards. In between the two closets was a mirror and vanity with hairbrushes and hair accessories. In front of Yato was a box of kimonos, the closet was open to reveal he had about four left to fold. They were all plain, just various colors of white, black, and blue. There was one green but it seemed barely worn.

“What about Nora?” Yukine asked.

“She went to help Tenjin in the library. Bishamon and Kazuma finished with the music room and basement while Kofuku and Daikoku cleaned out the garage and all the bathrooms. Like you asked, none of us went into his room.” Hiyori relayed.

“Yeah, I think Nora wanted to do that. Leave it for last and all. Of course she’ll need Bishamon or Tenjin with her just to make sure she doesn’t try anything.” Yato muttered as he folded the last of his clothes.

“There’s still the, uh, attic. But other than that everything is done.” Hiyori felt bad reminding the two of Yato’s deeds as a God of Calamity. The ceiling was filled with nothing but boxes of newspaper clippings and requests of those who’ve died by Yato’s sword. Hiyori didn’t want to go in there, yet another forgien aspect of Yato she didn’t want to know. Yukine paused his cleaning as Yato sighed.

“Forget it. There’s definitely nothing in there the heavens or anybody wants. We can just burn it as it is tomorrow,” Yato deadpanned, “unless you want to go look. It’s okay.”

“No,” Yukine said immediately without anger.

“No,” Hiyori said after, “it’s fine.” The room fell into a strange but comfortable silence as Hiyori put all the vanity stuff into a box and sealed it. She looked for something else to clean, knowing there was not much more to be done.

“Are you really going to get rid of all this stuff?” Hiyori asked as she scanned the room. Yato placed his box of clothes in a pile by the widow, stacked atop about five others, two of which had Nora’s name on them. All in all, this room, this house, was rather empty. It seemed Father was the only one with sentimental objects but even then it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be replaced. Save for a couple cringey family photos and mask research, there was nothing worth saving.

“Mm-Hmm,” Yato hummed. He took a moment to gather two boxes in his arms and jump out of the window then back. He fixed her with a smile that stalled her heart for a moment, it was soft but genuine, like the more they cleaned out of this house the clearer his mind became. On the opposite wall, on either side of the door, were swords of all sizes and some certificates. Hiyori got to work there, grabbing one of the flatter boxes.

“Like I said to Yukine, this isn’t my room, not really. There’s nothing here I need,” Yato walked up to her, “besides, I already have everything I want at Kofuku’s.” His smile was telling and Hiyori focused on his lips for longer than she was comfortable with admitting. Yes, her soul was fixed, with the help of a sun god and some magic peaches. But not before receiving a desperate kiss from a close friend who gave her a piece of himself to hold her together until they could get help. Red faced, Hiyori looked away as Yato got to work on the rest of Nora’s white, red, and pink patterned kimonos.

“Are you sure? I mean some of this stuff seems like you should keep it. They're your things.” Hiyori said, almost like a sad plea. In her hands were two very prestigious college degrees, one for art and one for math. Below them was a certificate for japanese calligraphy, an acceptance letter to a professional baseball team, and an invitation to the winter olympic qualifiers. What Hiyori said was true, they were unequivocally Yato’s possessions, things that were so painfully him and no one else's. Yet they were so forgien. Yato the vagrant didn’t keep things. Especially so neat and preserved like this. Nor did he try to do things the right way that involved paperwork.

“Yeah, I mean. They’re just pieces of paper, it’s not like getting rid of them will take away my talents. I hardly look at them anyway.” Yato waved her off. Before she could say anything more, Yato had finished the closets and leaped out the window. With a sigh Hiyori went to the other side of the room and picked up two traditional old swords and a violin, ready to move them towards the window.

“Ah! Ah! Wait!” Yukine scrambled from atop a step stool, “not those!”

“But Yato just said?”

“I know but those, uh, he said I could have those.” Embarrassed, Yukine took the objects from her arms and scuttled them back to the corner. Hiyori crept behind him and scanned the growing pile: two swords, three daggers, a couple of boxes, and a book that looked like a large photo album.

“What’s in those boxes?”

“Stuff from the wars,” Yato suddenly popped up behind her.

“Which ones?” Hiyori blinked.

“They’re kinda mixed,” he shrugged, “mostly metals and grimy uniforms, but the kid really wanted them so. You can take things too if you want. Though I still don’t understand why.” It was a sweet sentiment of Yukine but the concept was still strange. Yato didn’t offer things. Well, he did, but he never actually had the material things he tried to offer and would usually offer services or lip service. Hiyori wasn’t sure he liked this version of Yato. She didn’t hate it- this was part of him after all- but Hiyori couldn’t fit these images in with her picture of him. She worked to process it as the group cleaned out the rest of The Crafter’s house, the building not seeming any less empty.

Bishamon’s shinki started the journey to Ebisu’s shrine while she and Tenjin took the mask materials up to heaven, as ordered by Ameterasu. Nora offered to cook dinner, planning on spending a final night saying goodbye to the house, but Kofuku and Daikoku decided to head into town for food. That left just them, Yato’s immediate family and her. Hiyori didn’t want to spend any more time here than she needed to but she still refused Kofuku’s offer to take her. With Yukine and Nora silently prepping food in the kitchen, Hiyori made her way through the back door where Yato had just finished chopping food. He didn’t look at her as she closed the sliding door and took a seat next to him.

“How are you feeling?” She coaxed, arm already around his shoulders.

“Good,” Yato huffed a sigh, “I mean I’m not happy. Not upset either. Just here,” he shrugged. Then he turned those blue eyes on her.

“How about you? Are you okay?” He asked. That was more like him, to ask how others were feeling when he was the one with the problem.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She said. His arm wrapped around her waist but before she could turn her blush on him, he buried his nose in her neck.

“It just doesn’t feel real, you know? I know he’s not dead, so it’s not over, but it just feels like it is?” Yato lowered his voice so the kids inside didn’t hear him worry over nothing. Those were reserved for Hiyori, just like her monologues were only for his ears.  

“A new beginning,” Hiyori offered. She felt him smile against her neck and Hiyori’s blush reached it. Out of habit, she held out her hand and let him intertwine their fingers.

“I have a new life now,” Yato mused, “hopefully one without him in it.”

“But with you still here,” Hiyori squeezed her hand for emphasis.

“Haha, yeah. Of course. Me and you and Yukine, with a little less baggage.”

“Yato,” Hiyori sighed with a smile. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that simply cleaning out his father’s house was enough to make the emotional problems go away.

“I know,” Yato murmured. He nuzzled a little bit more, Hiyori waiting to rest her cheeks on his head. She stared at their hands with a soft smile, the feeling just as familiar as it was forgien. Hiyori came to the conclusion that she might not ever truly, fully, know Yato but that it wouldn’t stop her from loving him all the same.

“It’s a little bit of a shame though,” Hiyori said.

“Hmm?”

“Your stuff. This house. It’s almost like a waste.”

“Not a waste,” Yato said, “a new start. One with you in it.” The smile was evident in his voice and Hiyori could feel the steam rise off her face. She would never get used to such blatant flirting, especially when he grinned so charmingly at her from so close.

“But you’re welcome to take something. Something to remember me by.” Yato’s eyes drifted to her lips and back to her drooping eyes.

“You?” Hiyori said without thinking. Just as she leaned in for another precious kiss, Yato bursted out laughing, tips of his ears a bright red.

“As you wish!” Yato exulted. Hiyori was too lost in her embarrassment to look at him, not even when Yukine threw the kitchen door open to yell at his teasing master. There was still something there, something that overshadowed them with forbidding, but with Yato’s comforting laughter ringing throughout her bones, Hiyori knew they would be alright.

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 13, something luck something

I gave myself the feels, @lostmypotatoes send help

Link here.

“…AND THIS, MY INTREPID YOUNG FRIEND, IS…THE ROYAL GUARD!! NYEHHHHHH!”

They’d stopped at the head of the staircase in the Grand Hall. Her new skeleton friend had thrown his arms wide at a line of monsters standing motionless in shiny black armor, as proud as a child showing a visitor his favorite toys. “NYEHHH,” he added reverently.

The Royal Guard was quite impressive, like gleaming statues that could come to life and kill you, but Frisk wasn’t scared. She could see their ears poking out from their helmets, and some of them looked pretty silly: a couple of dogs, a cat, a rabbit, a bug, something like a lizard or dragon…

But then there was their Captain, who had just removed her helmet. She did not look silly. “UNDYNE!” Papyrus blared at the tall, eyepatched fish-woman. “THIS IS KRIS! SAY HELLO TO HIM! …ER, UNDYNE? HIS NAME IS KRIS, NYEH HEH! …HE IS A HUMAN! …NYEH? UNDYNE?”

No answer. Undyne’s scarred, scowling, evil-toothed countenance did not waver. Her webbed hand was clenched on the shaft of her spear, cerulean scales and mostly-yellow eye glittering in the witchlight. Even her red ponytail looked menacing as it fluttered in the breeze of passing dignitaries.

The human’s path was clear. Her expression went blank with determination. Frisk looked around and saw vases full of fresh flowers against the wall; as the monsters glanced at each other in confusion, the child selected a vase, tossed out the flowers, lugged the vase back to the Royal Guard Captain, and, with one almighty heave, threw the water right into Undyne’s face.

~

Frisk woke him even earlier than they’d planned, looking as though she hadn’t slept and sounding very businesslike. Sans was too groggy at first to remember last night, and before he could wonder if it had even happened, she was already laying out their plan for the day.

And…it was not what they had discussed yesterday. It was the opposite. “Lemme get this straight,” he said when she was finished. “Ya don’ wanna sneak out anymore. You wanna tell everyone an’ their mom that we’re takin’ the monsters back t’the Underground as a goodwill gesture in exchange for more cool monster stuff.”

“Yes.”

“So we’re goin’ out as a big deal that everyone knows about, on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“We’re gonna let ‘em think you already cleared it with the King ‘n everything’s fine?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…that’s a big fat lie.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“No. It isn’t.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“I’m not an idiot, Sans! If we disappeared without any indication whatsoever of where I’d gone, His Majesty would assume I’d been abducted and send soldiers after me. I just woke him up a few minutes ago and told him where we were going, and why.”

Something about the way she said it made him ask, “And he’s okay with it?”

Frisk smirked. “We’re going.”

~

Departing with a lot of fanfare actually took less effort than Sans expected. All he had to do was go down to the stables, announce that Her Eminence was leaving immediately on an important diplomatic mission, hand over her written instructions, and then stand back. For once, his scariness was a real advantage: by the time Frisk brought down the group of silent, shivering monsters, the wagons were already in place, the horses hitched up, and the cargo nearly loaded.

The priestess had been busy mobilizing a small army of assistants, which was a lot easier than their original plan to have him teleport everything from her room. Their provisions and gifts for the Underground were brought down and loaded according to the diagrams Frisk had drawn for the monsters: one wagon was for Ice Cap, who would travel with the majority of the food, while the other had Pyrope and Vulkin, who were wrapped in fireproof blankets and seated away from anything flammable. The other monsters would ride with them in order to stay warm—the canvas wagon covers were good for privacy, but didn’t keep out much of the wind.

Sans had made himself scarce while the work was going on, but when everyone and everything was in place, he stepped up to make Frisk get in with the flame monsters instead of riding up front in the lead wagon. She’d been standing in a corner of the freezing yard to supervise the last preparations; in her full High Priestess regalia, she was as impressive as ever, but he’d watched her closely and seen her trying not to cough.

As her personal guard, and her…whatever the hell they were now, it was his duty to not let her get sick again, but his official consideration was for her safety. They were traveling with a cortege of twelve guards, which would deter most attackers and also help clear traffic ahead of them, but there was no point in putting her on display for someone to take potshots.

They wheeled out of the castle gates and onto the main thoroughfare just after sunrise. Sans wasn’t a big fan of walking, or being in the cold, but his slippers and overcoat were mostly adequate. He wished he could poke his head into the wagon to check on Frisk, but she had asked him not to let the other monsters see him yet; besides, he heard her humming at a couple of points and figured she was busy keeping them calm. Pyrope was a twitchy little bastard, and Vulkin had a bad habit of “helping” via lava, so he’d just leave her to it.

The day passed, and to their pleasant surprise, they reached Frisk’s house on the outskirts of the city long before dark. That gave them more time than expected for Frisk to unload the monsters and shepherd them into the house; Sans grabbed enough food for that night and the morning, and the attendants took the wagons and horses to the nearest inn. Two guards took up positions outside the house before they locked the door for the night, and that was that.

None of the monsters had spoken or made eye contact with anyone all day, to Sans’ knowledge. As soon as they were gathered in the dining room, the priestess allowed him to step in and say, “Heya.”

Frisk retreated as the monsters came alive, swarming around the giant skeleton and all babbling at once in frantic relief. He had been somewhat scary to them in the relative peace of the Underground, but seeing him now was the best possible reassurance that the High Priestess had not been lying or playing some kind of sick game with them: they really would be home by the day after tomorrow.

After a few minutes, Frisk came back into the room, bare-headed and wearing a loose white gown, for Sans to re-introduce her as “Kris,” the not-really-a-boy from the human delegation. Six of the eight remembered her, and Pyrope got so excited that he left a couple of smoking holes in the carpet.

When everyone was done eating and talking, Frisk directed Ice Cap to the attic, where they could safely leave the little window open to keep it cold, while Sans built up the kitchen fire and made an asbestos-blanket fort for the flame monsters. The others sprawled out on the beds or any patch of floor they could, safe and well-fed; still, Sans noticed how uneasy they were, and understood what that was like. He just hoped they’d be able to feel safe again.

Once everyone was settled, Frisk was nowhere to be found. Of all the damn places she could’ve slept in, Sans finally found her wrapped up in her cloak in the bathtub. “Frisk,” he said accusingly.

She made a noise explaining that she was fine, a monster could have the remaining bed.

“Nope.” The priestess squeaked as he bent to scoop her up in both hands. “C’mon, kitten. Time ta sleep literally anywhere else.” Before she could object, he walked her into the smallest bedroom, dropped her onto the bed, and threw a comforter over her. “There. G’night.”

Frisk struggled to sit up. “Wait, where—”

Sans lay down on the floor and sighed noisily. “We’re not t’the Underground yet. Let’s just go ta sleep, okay?”

“…Okay. But, Sans—”

The boss monster emitted a loud, sustained fake snore, cut short by her pillow landing on his face.

~

Either the demon-child was still satisfied from the other night, or they were just too tired to be reachable, because they woke from a dreamless night to another stiff, sore day of travel.

The monsters were more animated today as they loaded into the wagons, which Frisk took as a good omen. Granted, there was a delay when Sans got too close to the draft horses and scared them so badly that the grooms had to unhitch them for a quick jog around the block, but the crowd gathering on the street to watch still cheered and waved as they set off.

It was another bitterly cold day, and as Frisk leaned into Vulkin, she tried not to think too much about spending the night in the no-man’s-land. King Stephin had still been sleepy when they talked yesterday morning, and the best objection he’d come up with on the spot had been the diplomatic ramifications of bringing so many humans so close to the Underground. She’d countered with the proposal that they leave all their attendants at the border and have Sans handle both security and transportation from then on, as he was a monster and knew the area well. The King tried to backpedal, but Frisk had gone on about a smaller group being faster and safer, attracting less attention, needing fewer provisions, etc., until he gave in.

“Very well. I will ask His Holiness to arrange the necessary financial matters for each monster,” the King had said coolly. “I am trusting you, Frisk, to bring back favorable news, and prove that this mission is any better than a child’s tantrum over not getting her way.”

“I wonder that Your Majesty has ever spent enough time with a child to see one,” she shot back, eliminating any chance of leaving him on a polite note.

Unfortunately, Frisk was now so busy thinking of that conversation – and trying to ignore the bruises she was accumulating from riding in a big, jouncing cargo wagon – that she forgot to mention it to Sans until they stopped for a break several miles outside the city. He’d started bemoaning the logistics they had to work out for that evening, trying to get all these guys fed and coordinated and bedded down and what they were going to do with the horses, and she had to cut him off with “They’re not coming.”

The guards and drivers looked up from their roadside sandwiches at a furious, smothered explosion of sound. They glanced at each other as the massive skeleton growled down at the priestess, but she didn’t seem worried, so they resumed eating as Sans carried on snarling and gesticulating.

Frisk could understand why he was upset, but the third time he ended a sentence with “—‘n did I mention I’m not a fuckin’ horse?!” was enough. “Sans,” she said, and he stopped. “Calm down and think about it. This may actually be safer. Have I ever shown you how I can hide something with a barrier?”

“Uh…” The boss monster shrugged crankily. “I know you’ve got a lotta different tricks.” Snort. “Any chance ya have somethin’ that’ll pull the wagons for us?”

“Yes. You.”

Sans blinked, and covered his face with one hand. “God damn it.”

Frisk turned her back to the guards so she could grin at him through the veil. “It takes a lot of strength, but if it’s just the two of us and the wagons, I could keep us completely hidden for short periods,” she said, more somberly. “In your opinion, is it safer to move by night, or camp outside the border till morning and then make as much time as we can?”

The skeleton tapped his dusty slipper on the grass, thinking out loud. “It’s probably better t’go at night. A lot of this place is so flat that you can see fer miles on a clear day. I can get by pretty well in the dark, so yer right. If we don’t have all of these dorks walkin’ with us ‘n makin’ noise, you’d just need ta cover up the wagons. It’s mostly bedrock out here, so with the wind blowin’ the sand around, we shouldn’t hafta worry about tracks.”

“I see. How far should we try to get tonight? I don’t think we can make it all in one push.”

“Not if I’m all we’ve got,” he grumbled. “Let’s get t’the fence and see how we’re doin’.”

Frisk had a word with the drivers; when they started again, they went at a quicker pace, the better to reach their destination and allow the men and horses time to get back to the nearest village before dark.

She grew more and more apprehensive as the hours passed, and finally dug out her satchel of clothing, asking the monsters to close their eyes so she could change into a more practical dress than her High Priestess leg-trap. Not long afterward, the wagon slowed and ground to a halt; they were at the border, a day’s journey from the Underground.

~

Sans waited till the other humans were almost out of sight to tell the monsters, “Come on out, guys.”

All but the flame monsters piled out to stretch their legs and wings while Sans ran a trace of red magic along the wire fencing. Frisk watched him pluck at a seemingly solid strand, revealing a length of twine holding two cut pieces together. “Humans go in ‘n out this way,” the skeleton informed her. “’s like havin’ a gate. They just untie it and tie it back up behind ‘em.”

Frisk shook her head and hugged herself tighter under her cloak. Sans didn’t have time to admire how the cold air had turned her cheeks red, or be really irritated at how the men had all gawked at her without her veil, but he did it anyway while the monsters got ready to resume their places. “So,” the skeleton said, resigned, “how’re we gonna do this crap?”

Five minutes later, Sans was trudging along in the fast-fading light, his hands shoved in his pockets, the wagon’s shafts wedged between his wrists and his hipbones so he could pull it in lieu of a horse. Frisk sat in the driver’s seat of the second wagon, whistling softly and watching the tufts of red magic keeping its shafts upright. Sans had to admit that the flat terrain and the laws of physics made it easy to keep the wagons going once they’d started…but it still sucked.

“Are you doing all right?” the priestess asked at one point.

“Neigh,” he responded, and she started snrrking so hard that he threatened to stop and make her pull the damn wagon. Then he had to deal with that mental imagery until it got darker and he could focus on maintaining a tiny speck of magic to sharpen his night vision. It was nearly a new moon out, perfect for moving in secrecy.

It happened some time after midnight. The monsters had fallen asleep; the priestess was dozing, and Sans was on the verge of stopping for the night when a shriek rang out from the wagon behind Frisk, who nearly fell off her seat. Sans had to lift her down for her to run back, leap into the wagon, and rouse Vulkin from a nightmare, humming urgently to quiet her.

“Shit,” Sans muttered as a torch flared in the distance. “Hey, kitten?”

She didn’t waste any time: a whistle raised a golden bubble around them, and Sans winced at the sheer power crackling through it. For the first time, he found he was less worried about being trapped inside a barrier than he was about the amount of magic it was costing her.

Minute after minute passed. Strange human voices drew way too close, and Sans could only stand there while Frisk held the spell steady, diverting enough magic to soothe the terrified monsters. The giant skeleton had no idea how she was blocking both sound and light and hiding the barrier’s presence from the other side while she hummed, but she did it, because the poachers soon concluded that it’d been a false alarm and wandered back the way they’d come. “They’re gone, sweetheart. Drop it,” Sans ordered, and he heard a ragged sound as the barrier evaporated.

That was enough. Sans set the wagons’ brakes, grabbed as many rocks as his remaining magic could carry, and formed stacks under the shafts to hold them upright, then stuck most of his head into the back of the wagon. “I’m so sorry,” whimpered Vulkin. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s not yer fault,” he said roughly. In the monster’s glow, he could see the priestess lying on the wagon floor, resting her head on her forearm as she struggled to catch her breath. “Hand ‘er over.”

Later, he would kick himself for dragging Frisk into the cold again, but he had to see for himself that she was okay. Sans bundled her under his coat and sat down against the wheel, folding her into the crook of his arm while he summoned up heat and softness, everything a skeleton usually couldn’t offer.

That was all well and good, but as she turned toward him, trying to reach up around his neck, something weird happened. He allowed her to stand on the ground and rest her weight against him, her arms sliding under his coat and over his bony shoulders; he’d almost gotten used to that amazing, fluttery, possessive thing his SOUL did when she was on him, but this time, it got physically warmer, and he felt like something was…leaving him? What—

Frisk’s whole body jerked. She pulled her head back enough to stare at him. “Sans? What did you do?!”

“I…” Sans had to close his sockets against a rush of dizziness. “I dunno.”

The priestess withdrew her arms and looked down at her hands. She raised one and snapped her fingers, and another barrier roared to life around them. “What the crap, Frisk?” Sans rasped. “Ya don’t have the strength fer that!”

“I do now,” she said blankly. “How…how did you give me magic directly? Is it—”

Just like that, the dizziness had become full-on vertigo. “Sansy needs t’go night-night,” the skeleton mumbled, and the darkness politely stepped up to pull him back down with it.

~

A band of poachers had made camp near the river. Their sentry glanced up from his breakfast, then leapt to his feet and called out as someone emerged from the morning mist. “Whoa! Easy, pal,” said the stranger, stopping a polite distance away and holding his hands up. “We’re not lookin’ for trouble. I’m just checkin’ somethin’.” He made a strange face, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how faces worked. “Have ya heard who’s s’posed to be out here right now?”

“Maybe,” the sentry admitted. He eyed the interloper’s oddly pale hair, the contrast it made with his black coat and red shirt, and lowered his crossbow. “Depends what you’ve heard.”

“Someone from the High Priestess is passin’ through, doin’ somethin’ with a buncha monsters,” said the newcomer, lowering his arms very slowly. “I was makin’ sure ya weren’t them. We’re pretty new at this, so—”

The sentry gave a bark of laughter. “Dumbass! It’s the High Priestess. She’s out here with nine or ten monsters, all by herself.”

“Really?” The stranger blinked too many times. “Hot damn.” He laughed, too, sort of. “Too bad we can’t get magic outta her, huh?”

The sentry leered at him in male camaraderie. “Ever seen her in person? I know what I’d get out of her!” He slapped his leg, oblivious to the stranger’s twitching eye and clenched fists. “Well, if you’re new to the business, take it from me: keep any humans you find and save ‘em for ransom, ‘specially her.”

Blink. “Ransom?”

“Yeah. Ransom,” the poacher said impatiently. “You know who her dad is, right?”

The pale-haired stranger blinked again. “Duke Whatshisface?”

“Seriously?” The sentry shook his head in disbelieving pity. “Her dad’s the King, dipshit. You never heard about it?” He gestured expansively with the crossbow, enjoying the stranger’s dumbfoundment. “No joke. The old man used to fuck anything that’d hold still long enough. There’s five or six kids left that we know of, and she’s his favorite.” His grin broadened. “You really didn’t know? Man, you’re fuckin’ stupid.” He flapped his hand. “Get out of here. Go on home before you trip ‘n kill yourself.”

In a daze, the stranger put his hands in his pockets and turned around. “Oh, by the way,” he said, and without warning, something erupted from the ground, impaling the sentry’s foot.

His screams brought his comrades running to see him clutching a huge white bone sticking out of the bedrock, and a stranger pointing wildly toward the river. “Holy crap, it came from over there!” he shouted. “It’s that big-ass skeleton thing! It’s definitely over there!”

Only one of the poachers tried to say, “Who’re you?” before another line of projectiles slammed into the ground heading away from them; he ran to follow the rest of the group, leaving the luckless sentry to try to wrestle the bone free. When he looked up to demand the stranger help him, there was no one there.

“Fuckin’ fuckstick,” Sans muttered to himself from a few hundred yards away, jerking a hand to summon more bones and make it seem like they were still under attack. “I oughta fuckin’…” He kicked a rock so hard that it hurt his stupid wimpy human toe.

Fuck-a-duck. He couldn’t go back to camp like this. With the mist covering him and the poachers haring off in the opposite direction, he could think things over for a minute, starting with whether Frisk had ever come out and said who her father was.

…No, she never had. He’d just remembered something about Rosa – who he now knew wasn’t even her mom – working for a duke, and reached a reasonable conclusion that was totally wrong. It was probably such an open secret that she either hadn’t thought to tell him or hadn’t wanted to in case he treated her any differently. She was probably sick of that already…

Sans was too lost in thought to see something moving in the mist, following him away from the poachers’ camp along the riverbank. When he absently turned to stare at the water, it vanished, only to reappear as he turned again.

So, Frisk had pulled this crazy stunt because there was nothing else she could do about the monsters being sold. According to everything Sans had seen, only the Cardinal or the King could go over her head; therefore, while Duke Whatshisass was in charge of doling the monsters out to new owners, it probably wasn’t him who’d actually decided to sell them. The Cardinal hadn’t bothered her since she said she’d be retiring, and she hadn’t mentioned him at all, which just left the King.

Sans had seen for himself how much the old man treated her like a daughter, go figure. Knowing Frisk, she’d probably told His Majesty to his face that she intended to free those monsters, and he’d decided to keep her out of serious legal trouble and also remind her who was boss by ordering them sold right away. No wonder she’d been willing to flip him the bird right back by stealing the monsters and getting public opinion on her side.

Against all logic, Sans felt his poofy lips curling upward. In a weird way, this was the push he needed to be a little less miserable about not deserving her and a bit more smug that she’d picked him over the zillion guys desperate to snag an illegitimate princess. At this point, she transcended the concept of anyone deserving her. He still thought he sucked, but so what? If he hadn’t imagined what she’d said the other night, then…

The mist was beginning to thin out as the sun came up. Sans paused and glanced behind him, but nothing was there. He turned back toward their camp, reaching for his chain. Better not confront her about something she hadn’t really been hiding in the first place, though now he was determined to ask about her m—

Only the hiss of something flying through the air alerted him in time to fling up a wall of bones, barely deflecting a blow aimed at his neck. Before he could even swear aloud, more things came at him, and he instinctively turned to run away from their camp.

“Hey! HEY!” a voice shouted. Sans’ human ears perked up at the sound. “Come back here, meat-wad!”

His aim wavered as he threw a wave of pointed bones behind him, just missing the figure in the mist. It easily caught one and threw it straight back at him, only to see it glance off another wall of bone. “You!” the figure snarled. “How did you get Sans’ magic? Where is he?! Tell me, you damn coward!”

Sans dodged another one. “Hey!” Dodge. “Hey, listen, ya crazy broad! It’s—”

“Sans?” They both froze at the sound of Frisk’s voice. “Sans, where are you?”

The boss monster finally understood that expression about blood running cold. Fighting chills, he turned his head and opened his mouth to tell Frisk to run.

That moment of distraction was all the figure needed: Frisk came up just in time to see a bone spin end over end and smash into the back of his head, nearly knocking him out.

~

The High Priestess had heard Sans’ attack on the poachers as she was balancing a frying pan on Vulkin, who’d volunteered to help cook breakfast. Frisk just prayed Sans could divert them without killing anyone, or that he would at least try.

Several minutes later, though, he hadn’t returned. She was passing the pancakes around and had retrieved the bucket for more water when she heard shouting. Her stomach lurched at the sound of bones breaking. Sans!

Telling the monsters to stay put, Frisk reflexively grasped the bucket handle and ran out of the warded camp, keeping another barrier ready. “Sans?” She looked around, squinting through the last tendrils of mist. “Sans, where are you?”

She saw him a split-second before someone threw one of his own bones straight back at him. Frisk choked on a scream as he hit the ground, blood darkening the sand. “Sa—"

“Hey. You.”

Frisk gulped as their attacker advanced on her from the edge of the water. “What’d you say about Sans, human? You know where he is?” The tall monster emerged from the mist, removing her helmet as she glared down with one mostly-yellow eye. “Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you took out a boss monster! How’d you do it? Cheating?” She almost spat the last word. “Start talking, you—”

“Undyne?” Despite her fear, Frisk smiled. “Undyne, it’s you!”

A spearpoint flashed in the air, stopping the priestess as she tried to step forward. “How’d you get my name? Did you torture it out of someone, human? Huh? Was it Sans?!” The spear poked at Frisk, forcing her backward. “Tell you what,” Undyne snapped, pivoting toward the human-shaped boss monster, who was still struggling to get up. “Let’s assume you care at all about your accomplice here. Either you tell me what I want to know, or…” The spear rose.

“No!” In sheer panic, Frisk threw a barrier between Sans and the other monster.

A moment later, she realized her mistake: Undyne had only been threatening him, but as she looked back at Frisk, her gaze was now murderous. “That’s it! That’s how you did it! You used a frickin’ barrier!” She stomped the ground so hard that Frisk felt the bedrock tremble. “I ought to gut you like a fish, you damn cheater! Do you hear me? A FISH!”

“Wait!” The priestess held up her hands, too distressed to be amused by Undyne’s choice of words. “Undyne, please! I’m—” She bit her lip. That wouldn’t work; Undyne wouldn’t believe that she was Kris. It might make her so angry that she’d try to kill them outright. Frisk racked her brains for some way to prove it—she had never shown Undyne her scars, but…

The Royal Guard Captain scowled deeper, this time in puzzlement, as Frisk stared at the bucket dangling from her forearm. “You’re what, human?” Undyne demanded.

Frisk swallowed hard. “I want to show you something,” she said, and took a deliberate side-step toward the water, ignoring the raised spear. “It’s not a barrier, and it’s not some kind of trick. Just watch, all right? And don’t hurt him!”

Undyne glanced around them in case this was a diversion, and at Sans, now lying still and silent. Frisk saw him, too, and her expression made Undyne lower her spear ever so slightly. “What is it? Make it quick!”

Frisk took a deep breath. To Undyne’s bewilderment, the human’s expression went neutral. She went to the river, dipped up a half bucket of water, carried it back to Undyne, and threw it into her face.

~

Through the haze of pain and gut-wrenching fear, Sans distantly heard Undyne yelling at Frisk, and he felt the barrier she put up to protect him. He wanted to shake her for thinking of him and not herself, and for showing Undyne she could do it. Then there was a dreadful silence, and he couldn’t get up to—

“NGAHHHHHHH!”

Sans threw himself forward, not quite gaining his feet. Hitting the ground again on all fours, he looked frantically for Undyne and whatever horrible things she was doing to—

Frisk was dangling, not from a spear’s bloody point, but from Undyne’s bear hug as the dripping-wet monster swung the human in time to a joyous bellow of “My little bestiiiiiiiiie!”

What the…no, never mind. With an effort, Sans pulled off his disguise and tried not to collapse as the world lurched sideways. “Ow,” he muttered, just to be part of the moment.

Undyne froze, not quite releasing Frisk. “Sans? What the—where’ve you been?” she demanded.

Sans’ glare would have set a lesser monster ablaze on the spot. “Almost gettin’ murdered by yer crazy ass!”

“Really?” Undyne looked puzzled. Then her face lit up. “Ohh, that was you! Ha!” She gave her giant-toothed grin. “Sorry about that, boss. How’d you do that? And why were you saying all that crap to that human back there?”

“I was tryin’ ta throw him off our trail! We’re the monsters and the High Priestess!” Sans sat up and raised one hand to heal his aching skull, indicating Frisk with the other. “Now let ‘er go before ya squeeze her t’death!”

“Hm? Oh, right.” Undyne set Frisk down, letting the priestess catch her breath. “So you’re Kris, huh?” The Captain planted her hand on one hip, watching Frisk brush herself off. “Did you know she was a girl?” she asked Sans.

“Nope. She had us all fooled.” Sans closed his eyes to focus his magic. Fuckin’ Undyne. If he hadn’t been a boss monster, that would’ve killed him!

“It wasn’t my idea,” Frisk protested as she picked up the bucket. “I was only ten, and they said it’d be safer. Can I help you with that, Sans?”

Undyne waved her spear. “Whatever! You’re here now! Ignore him, he’s being a big baby.” She glanced around. “Let’s move out before any more damn humans show up. No offense.” Frisk inclined her head. “You say you’ve got more people with you?”

If the monsters had been happy to see Sans, they nearly turned to dust when Undyne strolled into camp and announced that she would be escorting them the rest of the way home. Once everyone had calmed down, Sans had to admit the fish-lady knew how to get people moving: they scarfed down the remaining pancakes and some leftover oranges, then loaded right up and took off toward the Underground.

“Man…” Undyne was holding it together better than he had the first time he found himself inside a barrier, only betraying her fear of the dome overhead with a tighter grip and her eye darting back and forth. “I can’t believe it. She really is the High Priestess, huh?”

“Yep.” Sans was very pointedly nonchalant, sauntering along as the barrier crackled and the fish monster twitched. Served her right. “She coulda killed me a zillion times over, but she never did. Hell, I tried ta kill her a few times, an’ she smacked me down without hurtin’ me.”

Undyne shook her head. “It’s just…Kris is back, and he’s a she, and she’s the High Priestess, and she’s crazy strong…but she’s still Kris. It’s a lot to take in, you know?”

“Tell me about it.” Sans adjusted his grip on the shafts. He was pulling one wagon, and Undyne was pulling the other one alongside him; all it’d taken to get her going was a hint that she couldn’t do it. She was puffing a bit, but doing well now that they were moving. “So how’d you suddenly know it was her?” the skeleton asked.

“It was from the first time Papyrus introduced us,” Frisk said from the driver’s seat behind him. “I thought Undyne must’ve been upset because she was thirsty, so I grabbed a flower vase and tried giving her some water. …In her face.”

Sans guffawed, freeing one hand to slap his femur. “How’d that work out? Did the nice fish say ‘thank you’?”

“No, she just looked surprised. I thought she was feeling better, so I went back and—”

“The little punk tried to do it again! It was the stupidest thing I’d ever seen, but the kid wasn’t scared of me at all.” Undyne shook her head. “Then the King ordered us to be friends with the humans, so I figured I’d be the best damn friend Kris ever had.”

“And you were.” Frisk sighed. “When we get there, Undyne, I have something for you. In fact, we brought gifts for everyone. Did Alphys ever read the last two Adventure Lady novels?”

“Nah, and it’s been bugging her for years, the poor—” Undyne’s eye widened. “No. You didn’t!”

Sans let them chatter, profoundly grateful that they weren’t doing that weird thing where women hated each other for no reason. Having Undyne on their side, both physically and for moral support, was worth a dozen other monsters. “Did you get him that outfit?” she asked Frisk, nodding at the boss monster. “He’s been growing nonstop, so after a while, he just quit buying new clothes. It drives Papyrus nuts.”

“He’s my bodyguard, and it pays pretty well,” Frisk explained. “Those were a bonus for helping me shop for everyone.”

“Nice!” Undyne couldn’t reach over and smack him in congratulations, so she contented herself with jerking her head. “Good job, boss. Way to find a nice—what do humans call it? A ‘sugar mama’?”

Frisk burst out laughing and couldn’t stop, Undyne joining in as Sans sputtered. Stupid women, he thought sullenly. Why couldn’t they hate each other instead of giving him shit?

A few hours later, Undyne called a halt. “At this rate, we can get there by nightfall,” she said, offering a hand to the priestess half a second before him. “Er…do you have to, uh, go?”

Frisk looked uncomfortable enough for Undyne to nod hastily and point behind the wagon with her spear. “Not much privacy out here. We’ll just pretend you’re not doing anything, okay? Here, I’ll dig a hole for you.”

If that was awkward – and it was – it was nothing compared to the piscine monster making the others talk to cover the sound of Frisk’s business, then leaning over and whispering to Sans, very matter-of-fact, “Is it just me, or is it weird that Kris turned out to be so damn cute?”

Sans wished the ground wasn’t so flat around here, because then he could find a nice big pit and jump right on in. Luckily, Frisk suddenly said to herself, “Oh, dirt, why now?” and stuck her head beneath the wagon to call, “Undyne? Can you please get the little gray bag out of my satchel for me?”

The Captain obligingly found the only satchel with human clothing in it, rummaged around, and tossed the bag over the wagon and into Frisk’s lap. The young woman mumbled her thanks, but sounded so aggravated that Undyne asked, “What’s up? Are you okay?”

A prolonged sigh. “It’s nothing, just a stupid, ridiculous thing that human females have to put up with.” Frisk came back around a few moments later, stuffing the bag into the satchel. “Now, once we reach the Underground, should we all come in through the Grand Hall, or should Sans and I go through the Ruins into Snowdin?”

Sans exchanged glances with Undyne, who was munching on a roasted potato as if it was an apple. “You’d probably better not go straight to Asgore,” she said reluctantly. “When Snowdrake came back, he was pretty messed up, and the King was…uh…”

“Not happy?” Sans guessed.

Undyne’s eye closed. “Yeah. Not happy.”

“We’ll tell him what happened,” piped up Vulkin from inside the wagon. “We all heard the humans talking. Lady Frisk’s in big trouble for bringing us home, but she’s doing it anyway.”

The monsters made generally affirmative noises, and Frisk managed a smile.

“You are?” Undyne scowled. “Here, we’ve got to get going if we want to make it home before dark. Why don’t you give me the whole story on the way?”

They did, starting with Frisk being brought to the convent after her stint in the Underground and her memories being removed at her father’s request— “Oh, crap, that’s right,” Undyne interrupted. “That scumbag said the King’s your dad. Is that true?”

Frisk looked down at Sans in alarm. “Yeah, that’s what the guy told me,” Sans confirmed, not turning his head. “He was talking about her being worth a lot for ransom.”

The priestess grimaced. “I might not be, after all this.” She swallowed. “I wasn’t sure if you knew. I’m sorry if I—”

Sans made himself shrug. “It’s fine, kit—kiddo. Not like ya ever actually lied about it.”

“I don’t get it,” said Undyne. “If your dad’s the king, why aren’t you a princess?”

“Because I was one of many, many children the king had with women he wasn’t married to,” Frisk replied. “To be a princess, I’d have to have come from his actual wife. The first queen died childless, and his second wife died having the Prince.”

Undyne started. “Wait, so he…with just anyone, and you didn’t even count? What the hell is wrong with humans?”

“There’s the million-g question,” Sans mumbled.

Frisk sighed. “Anyway,” she said, “once I stopped begging to go back to the Underground, I settled down and studied as hard as I could. I was ordained a priestess when I was sixteen—”

The story continued until it was time for Sans to pick up with how he’d been caught by a party of five sorcerers almost a month ago. “I figured I’d hang out in jail until someone came ta get me, then kill ‘em,” he said conversationally, “but guess who came strollin’ downstairs?”

“The Duke asked me for help. There was a huge monster in the cells, and no one could decide who would be suitable to take him,” said Frisk. “I figured he must be a boss monster, and I scared them with stories about how powerful he was and how lucky they were that he hadn’t destroyed half the castle already. Then I said I’d take care of him.”

“And you tried to kill her?” Undyne snapped at Sans.

“Tried to burn ‘er, squish her, and blast her,” the boss monster said, almost proudly. “Nothin’ worked. Next thing I knew, I’d signed up fer a month of bein’ a witch ta learn how to grow better crops.”

“Which turned out to be much closer to three weeks, thanks to His Majesty,” Frisk said sourly. “I had each of these monsters taken from humans who were mistreating them so badly that even the Church wouldn’t allow it anymore, and I brought them out here to keep them from being sold again.” Even over the sound of the wheels crunching on sandy rock, they could hear her teeth grinding. “The King knew what I wanted to do, but he thought I shouldn’t have to worry my pretty little head about it anymore, so here we are.”

Sans considered pointing out that the King probably just wanted to keep her out of trouble, but decided he’d rather not be murdered. Undyne’s sole contribution was “…Damn.”

They rolled along in silence. “In three days or so, we can go back to the village and pick up the grain and other things Sans ordered,” the priestess said. “It won’t feed the entire Underground, but it will help.”

“That reminds me, Undyne—ya know the big farm over that way with the maple trees?” Sans nodded in a direction. “She’s gonna get it fer us.”

The Captain gaped at him. “She what?”

“I shit you not,” said Sans. “The human who owned it croaked, an’ she’s been negotiatin’ ta buy it. Turns out bein’ High Priestess makes ya super rich.”

Undyne muttered something under her breath, taking a fresh grip on the wagon shafts. Then her head swiveled, and without being told, Frisk immediately began whistling again. The air around them, which had been a translucent gold, solidified until it was nearly opaque. “They can’t see or hear us at all?” asked the fish monster, glancing up warily.

Frisk shook her head, and paused long enough to say, “They’d have to literally be touching the barrier to know we’re here.”

“No kidding?” Undyne squinted to watch the far-off group of humans through the barrier. Sure enough, they were moving away. “So,” she said presently, “how long are you gonna stay this time? Another month?”

“’Bout ten days,” Sans answered for her.

Undyne nodded slowly. The whistling stopped, and the human said, “Yes, if all goes well. It depends how long Asgore will let us stay, and what we’ll be allowed to bring back to the castle afterwards.”

“‘We’?” repeated the Captain.

It took Sans a second to realize what Undyne was even asking. He and Frisk had yet to discuss whether he’d be coming back to the castle after her visit, but the possibility of leaving her hadn’t even occurred to him, and she obviously felt the same way. “Yeah, I’ve gotta learn more witchy crap,” he said, hiding his elation. “Plus, the more monster stuff she gets ta show the other humans, the less trouble she’ll get in fer cartin’ these guys off in the first place.”

“And I’m not pulling the wagons back on my own,” Frisk added.

“Got it,” Undyne murmured, and Sans breathed an inward sigh of relief. Another thing they needed to hash out: what to tell the other monsters about…whatever they were now. Everything still depended on him working on himself, didn’t it? It would be easier to learn to control his magic in the proper directions inside the Underground. Who knew? Maybe if he kept thinking happy thoughts and not actively loathing himself, it’d really be possible. Maybe, if he was in good enough shape by the time they straightened things with Asgore, they could really—

The priestess resumed whistling, snapping him out of it. Undyne began bobbing her head along with the melody, and immediately started getting the rhythm wrong, but Sans decided not to say anything; he had a lot more thinking to do before they got home.

~

Very much against her will, they left Undyne just out of sight of the Underground’s principal entrance. She would announce their arrival, see the monsters to each of their homes, and then report to Asgore; knowing the King would insist on the wagons being inspected before he allowed them inside, they would also remain here.

Undyne checked over the little group of monsters as they climbed out, then paused. “Hey. Sans? Are you…gonna talk to Her Majesty?”

Frisk knew a loaded question when she heard one. Sure enough, Sans took a much longer time to reply than usual. “Yeah, I kinda have to. If she’s asleep already, I’ll leave ‘er a note.”

“Okay.” The Captain picked up her helmet from one of the shafts, pulled it back on, and nodded to them. “I’ll be in Snowdin as soon as His Majesty’s done with me. Good luck, guys.”

“We’ll see you soon,” Frisk replied, giving her a smile and ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. This was it. They were here!

The monsters trotted off, and they very faintly heard Undyne hail the sentries from atop the rise. “Welp,” Sans said. “This way.” Frisk obediently grabbed her satchel, which she’d stuffed with apples and potatoes, and set off after him, trying to be happy and grateful and not on the verge of barfing.

~

It was another cold, boring day in Snowdin. The monsters were pretty sure they knew what was going to happen today – nothing – and that it was going to keep happening, and it was hard to care much about it anymore. Sure, Papyrus kept nattering about how Sans and a mysterious human had told him they were going to come back to the Underground soon and everything would be all right, but…Papyrus. The denizens of Snowdin carried on with nothing as usual, secure in the knowledge that—

Every monster in town stopped what they weren’t doing and looked around in confusion. Magic was building in the air like smoke from a barely contained fire; there was a hhhwp, and in the empty space in front of the skeleton brothers’ house, there now stood a boss monster in black slippers and a tiny human peeking out from beneath his overcoat. “I told you to wait,” she scolded him, moving the coat aside like a giant curtain.

“What? You were the one whinin’ about how cold it was,” retorted the skeleton.

“Hey!” To their surprise, Undyne sprang up from where she’d been sitting on the step. “Where have you nerds been?” she snapped. “It’s been five frickin’ hours! Were you talking to Her Majesty, or what?”

“Nah, we got lost in the Ruins,” said Sans. “Tori’s asleep, so I left her a note like I said. What’re you doin’ here already? Is everyone okay?”

Undyne looked at them narrowly, then said, “Yeah, it turned out Asgore was already in the Grand Hall, so we didn’t have to waste time finding him.” She had changed into the outfit Frisk remembered: a short jacket, wool shirt, long pants and red boots. “Everyone’s home by now. I left Ice Cap with his family a few minutes ago.”

Frisk nodded gratefully. “What did the King say?” she asked, setting her satchel down.

Undyne hesitated. “Well…he was happy to see everyone, but then they started talking about how the High Priestess was coming in through Snowdin, and he wasn’t happy anymore.”

“How not-happy is he, exactly?” Sans demanded. “Is Frisk in any danger?”

“Nope. The others kept going on about how you saved them from the other humans, and when I told him you were Kris, he got really quiet.” Undyne put her hands in her jacket pockets. “He said you could stay until we ‘know your true intentions.’ I have to babysit you, and he wants to talk to Sans as soon as possible, but that’s it.”

Sans and Frisk breathed sighs of relief. “Good enough,” said the boss monster. He stood on tiptoe, the better to see most of the way across Snowdin. “Where’s Pap?”

Shrug. “I don’t know. No one’s in the house. He must be at the store or something.”

Frisk rubbed her arms unconsciously, turning in circles to look around them, especially at the light-spangled house. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured. “I—” She swiped at her eyes.

The Royal Guard Captain stepped over to the High Priestess and put an arm around her shoulders. “You know what? May I be the first, K—Frisk, to say: welcome back.” She gave the human what was, for her, a gentle squeeze. “C’mon. We’ll introduce you to everyone again. We can take it nice and slow, no pressure to—HEY!” Undyne had spotted a nearby cluster of monsters staring at them. “What are you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen a human before? I know you have!” She pointed at Frisk, who was still tucked beneath her arm. “Remember Kris?”

Frisk quickly forgot her irritation as several monsters hurried over. “Kris! Bro!” One dinosaur-like creature shouldered its way through the crowd, hopping from foot to foot. “Is that really you? Do you remember me? Hi, Undyne!”

Of course she remembered Monster Kid, who was only a little bigger now, still wearing the same armless sweater—twelve years obviously didn’t go as fast for monsters as it did for humans! There was the bunny who ran the store, Gyftrot – stuff still dangling from his horns – a couple of the various dogs she’d petted and thrown sticks for…

Once the first wave of pleasantries had subsided, it was time to tell them the reason for her visit, what Sans had been up to, and why “Kris” had turned out to be a lady. She noticed a few of those who hadn’t greeted her falling back to go spread the news, but saw no signs of Papyrus.

She wasn’t the only one: right in the middle of a very important discussion on someone’s baby sister being ready to hatch soon, Sans let out a growl that shut everyone up at once. “Where’s my brother?” he asked.

Shrugs and mumbles all around. “He was staring at the river again,” volunteered Gyftrot.

Sans waited for more information, then nodded. “Okay, everyone,” he told the little crowd. “We’re gonna head inside for a minute. If anyone sees Pap, don’t tell him I’m back yet, don’t mention Kris, and don’t do anything to freak him out. Got it?”

A chorus of agreement. “Don’t freak out,” someone said helpfully to Papyrus, who had just stepped into view.

Papyrus froze, staring up at Sans. “BROTHER?” he said. Then: “BROTHER! NYEHHH HEH HEHHHHH!” He leaped up and threw his arms around Sans’ massive ribcage, doing a pullup of sheer joy. “YOU’RE HERE! YOU’RE REALLY HERE THIS TIME, LAZYBONES! I THOUGHT…THE GREAT PAPYRUS THOUGHT—”

“Yeah,” Sans mumbled. “Hey, Pap.” He hugged him back for a long moment, then glanced downward. “She said she’d bring me back safe, didn’t she?”

Papyrus looked at Frisk, who was grinning. He looked at Undyne, who was grinning and nodding. The younger skeleton released his brother and launched himself straight at his best friend, tackling her with a wail of “THANK YOU, UNDYYYYNE! NYEHH!” Before the Captain could correct him, Papyrus dropped her and caught Frisk up in a less forceful but similarly enthused hug. “THANK YOU, HUMAAAAN! I—” He stopped, and turned his head to look at her quizzically. “NYEH. WHY AM I THANKING YOU, HUMAN?”

“Ya met ‘er the last time we talked, Pap, in the dream,” Sans reminded him. “An’ you were right. She is Kris.”

Papyrus blinked, still holding on to her. “I SEE,” he said sagely. “NYEH HEH HEH! OF COURSE THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAS RIGHT! I…I…” His eyes rolled up, and Sans caught Frisk just before she hit the snow along with the fainting skeleton.

“Geez. He probably hasn’t eaten anything or slept in a couple days. No worries, we can fix that!” Undyne punched Sans reassuringly in the ribs, then bent and rummaged in her friend’s “armor,” helping herself to the house key before slinging Papyrus over her shoulder. “Listen up!” she shouted at the assembled monsters. “This is all very exciting, but these guys’ve been traveling for a couple days straight to bring the others back to us. We’ll see everyone in the morning, okay?” She poked Sans as he turned to teleport into the house. “Not you! Asgore’s waiting. Get your bony butt over to Alphys’ place before he comes looking for you.”

Frisk gripped his sleeve, but she made herself say calmly, “It’s fine. We’ll be here when you get back,” as she picked up her satchel.

He stared at her for a moment, then gently removed her hand, and was gone.

Undyne let them into the house, flipping the witchlights on and kicking the door shut as Frisk walked into the living room. It wasn’t the biggest or nicest of dwellings, and it didn’t help that Papyrus had probably been stress-cleaning—it would explain why the couch cushions were still damp from the last time he’d mopped them, and why the pet rock by the kitchen was barely visible under a pile of rock-candy shards. Had Sans set those out for his brother to use, just waiting for the pun to sneak up and hit him out of nowhere?

“Here you go, Pap,” Undyne said briskly, tramping up the stairs while Frisk marveled at how much smaller everything was than she remembered. The priestess heard her deposit Papyrus in his pirate-ship bed, slam the door behind her, and come back down to pull a kitchen chair out for Frisk. “Have a seat. Sorry, but they don’t have anything in the fridge.”

“That’s all right,” Frisk said. She unbuckled the satchel and offered Undyne an apple.

The Captain took it politely, but as Frisk glanced down to dig another one out for herself, the monster chomped the apple nearly in half, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “So,” she said casually, “what were you and Sans up to in the Ruins? No one’s dumb enough to just get lost in there for that long.”

Frisk felt her face grow stiff and hot. “I had to stop and rest because I used too much magic today,” she answered truthfully, and Undyne nodded. “I…actually, maybe you’d know this—is it possible for someone to directly give someone else some of their magic?”

The Captain paused, her eyebrows rising, a smile growing into a giant grin. “Haven’t you heard of—”

Frisk’s face got even hotter. “Not like that! I just mean, if you were weak and needed a little extra power, could, say, Asgore or Alphys give you a handshake, or a hug, and lend you some magic?”

“Nope. They couldn’t.” When Frisk looked skeptical, Undyne sighed, then made a fist. “Look, pretend this is my SOUL.” Another fist. “This one is…we’ll say Alphys.” Frisk wondered if it was her imagination, or if her friend’s face was turning red, almost purple under the smaller blue scales. “My body’s made of magic, and so is hers. But my SOUL is self-contained, and so is hers. Even if I took a chunk of my magic and handed it to Alphys—” She knocked her fists together. “Nothing would happen. She can heal me, but that’s just repairing damage, not giving me power that I could use to attack someone or do my own spells, assuming I knew any. There’s no way to combine or exchange magic unless you’re trying to have a kid, and that’s a whole different thing. It takes a lot of power and concentration, and…it’s different.” She was definitely purple now. “Why are you even asking?”

The priestess thought about it. She made a fist, and loosened her fingers until she could slide the fingers of her other hand through it. “After you left today, I was tired, and Sans gave me some of his magic again,” she said distantly. “Monsters can absorb a human SOUL, but…” Her fingers wiggled. “I don’t think it works both ways. Humans can’t take a monster’s SOUL, at least not directly into ourselves.”

Undyne suddenly looked very, very uncomfortable. “That’s true,” she commented, “for normal monsters. For Sans, the rules are a little different.”

Frisk was so startled that she dropped her hands. “Are you saying I was able to take some of his SOUL because I’m human and he’s a boss monster?!”

“Hell no!” the Captain snapped. More calmly, she said, “It doesn’t work like that. If you really took something from him that he couldn’t get back, he’d be acting a lot weaker, or he’d be dust already.” She shrugged. “If he did somehow give you magic and you had to wait for him to recover, and he did, then nah, there’s no permanent damage.”

That was something to think about. Frisk remembered last night, when she’d just wanted him to hold her. There was that jolt of energy, and he’d almost immediately passed out… She thought of a few hours back, when she’d gotten anxious and her magical exhaustion had suddenly kicked in, forcing her to sit down. Sans had – somewhat correctly – assumed that she was getting cold feet, gotten impatient, and picked her up, and when she turned to put her arms around him, it’d happened again.

Then, of course, they’d been in a uniquely ridiculous quandary where she was brimming with magic that wouldn’t help them get anywhere, and he couldn’t even stand up. Thank God she’d had something for him to eat in her satchel, or they might have been stuck out there all night waiting for him to recover. When she half-jokingly suggested she try giving his magic back to him, he’d almost bitten her head off.

Wait. Wait a second. If his magic was supposed to be so dark and terrible and evil, etc., how had she not felt anything like that from him, much less been poisoned? Frisk had the sudden, idiotic, schoolgirl-ish urge to giggle—did the good magic come out of the top half of his body, while the evil stuff came out of the other thing?

Undyne was shaking her head in wonder. “You need to tell all this to Alphys. She’d have a better idea of what’s—”

Crack went the window.

Both women whipped around at the sound of shouting outside. Undyne wasted no time, slamming her chair back and throwing the door open to roar, “What the hell is going on?”

A moment of quiet; it might have ended there if Frisk hadn’t peeked around her friend’s shoulder. A group of four or five young monsters stood a few yards away, holding stones, their body language scared but defiant. Their ringleader was a feathery snow monster who looked very familiar. “Chilldrake, isn’t it?” the human asked.

The hoodlums drew back as Undyne’s face darkened. “What do you want, kid?” she snapped. “If you’ve got a good reason for breaking Pap’s window, I’m listening!”

“We want her gone,” the drake said, shifting his feet and glaring at Frisk. “Haven’t you seen Snowdrake? He’s not Snowdrake anymore! How can you let a human in here after what they did to him?!”

“And what if she blows us up?” his friend added.

Undyne grabbed a spear from thin air and thrust it in the monsters’ direction. They shrank back, but stood their ground. “That’s not up to a bunch of kids like you,” the Royal Guard Captain snarled. “His Majesty said she could stay. Are you telling me you know better than Asgore?”

They shuffled back again, but a moment later, Chilldrake drew himself up. “Does he know she’s the humans’ High Priestess?” He raised his voice for the monsters standing nearby to hear: “Does he know she makes barriers?”

That got an anxious murmur going. Frisk felt sick; this was everything she’d been afraid of, no matter what Undyne said, or Sans. She glanced around instinctively, but he wasn’t there.

“He knows way more than you do, punk!” snarled Undyne. She advanced down the steps, leaving Frisk in the doorway. “Now get out of here before I get you out of here!”

“Fine!” Chilldrake shook his ruff, dancing a little in place. “If she’s here, it’s not safe anyway! We should all leave before she traps us and drags us off!”

The murmurs were louder and more upset now. The Royal Guard Captain looked at the other monsters in disbelief. “Guys, you were just telling her how glad you were to see her again! She’s the same damn person she was fifteen minutes ago! Are you going to listen to this little—”

“Is she really the High Priestess?” the shopkeeper asked Undyne.

The piscine monster’s face said it all. Too late, she snapped, “It doesn’t matter! She only uses her magic to—”

Everything happened at once. A stone came sailing over Undyne’s head, straight at Frisk, who did not stop to think that it was better to get a black eye or a bad cut than to confirm their worst fears. Reflex kicked in, and a barrier flared in front of her, pinging the rock away.

Her one piece of luck was that every monster froze in place instead of screaming or running to spread the tale of the human who had snuck Underground to use barriers on them—every monster but Chilldrake. “See?” he screamed, flapping his wings so hard that ice crystals flurried off them. “What did I just tell you?! Get out, human! We don’t want you here, and if I have to go tell His Majesty that you’re using barriers, I’ll—”

Whump.

It wasn’t a rock, or a spear, or a barrier. A ball of pure flame struck the ground in front of Chilldrake, who yelped and hopped backward, crashing into his friends.

The monsters’ heads turned toward the magic’s source, the edge of the field to Frisk’s right; each one immediately dropped to their knees or the equivalent thereof, with the hoodlums dropping the rocks and throwing themselves flat on their faces.

Undyne took one look, shook her hand to dispel the energy spear, and went to one knee as another monster advanced. “Your Majesty,” she said in wonder, then apprehension. Her head ducked. “Majesty, I can fully explain and take responsibility for—”

A gesture silenced her. The monster came to stand in front of the house, her amber eyes coming to rest on the High Priestess, features impassive.

Frisk’s heart constricted. She was suddenly ten years old again, not knowing whether to be afraid, whether she should bow or do something royal. She came down the steps, and to her horror, she found herself breathing harder, eyes prickling, throat tightening. “Lady Toriel,” she whispered.

Toriel folded her arms at the waist. She wore a plain robe, adorned only with the Delta Rune in white—the same thing Asriel had worn the day she fell into the Underground, only purple instead of black. The former Queen regarded Frisk for a long, terrible moment. “Where is the human named Kris?” she asked sternly.

It took all of Frisk’s training, all her experience as an exalted and lonely member of the Church’s highest echelon, to speak up. “The human child you knew was not a boy, and his name was not Kris. He was a girl, and his name was Frisk.” She swallowed. “I am Frisk.” Damn it, her voice wouldn’t stay steady. “I’m back, Lady Toriel. Please—”

Toriel took a step toward her. Another, and another. Her white-furred hand came up to brush Frisk’s hair from her face. The boss monster stared into her eyes…

And she stooped, opening her arms and folding Frisk into a huge, warm, cloud-soft hug.

Everything pent up behind Frisk’s defenses rose in a surge that crumbled the walls like wet paper. She still smelled like cinnamon and golden flowers, Frisk realized, and she wasn’t ashamed to grab hold of the velvet robe and get it soaked with tears again.

“My poor child,” the boss monster murmured, stroking Frisk’s hair as the priestess’ shoulders heaved. “My poor, dear girl. I’ve missed you so much.” She hugged her tighter. “I cannot tell you how very glad I am to see you again.”

Frisk was sobbing without restraint now, not caring what anyone saw or heard or thought of her. Toriel rested her hand on the back of the young woman’s head and looked up for the first time, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Am I to understand that this human is not welcome here?” She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have to. “Would anyone like to say anything?”

Chilldrake had collapsed in on himself. His beak moved, but all he could muster was “…High Priestess, Majesty.”

Toriel’s hand grew heavier. “Is this true, my child? You’ve become the High Priestess?”

Frisk didn’t have the courage to raise her head. She just nodded.

The boss monster inhaled, and sighed, her diaphragm moving under Frisk’s cheek. “Then we are very fortunate to have you, Frisk.” She glanced up, once. “Wouldn’t you agree, young man?”

Chilldrake did not nod so much as vibrate his head too fast for it to be visible.

“Splendid. We…what, my child?” Toriel listened as Frisk turned her head to mumble more clearly. “They broke Sans and Papyrus’ window? My word.”

Frisk didn’t see who rushed forward, but she heard a scramble to be the first to check the cracked glass and figure out how to fix or replace it or something right now.

Toriel waited for the priestess to get herself under control, then stepped back and took Frisk’s hand. “Captain,” she said, and Undyne was instantly on her feet, fist on her chest. “We have much to discuss. Please accompany us.” And with as much grace and ceremony as if the old house had been a marble palace, the boss monster went inside, allowing Undyne to glare once more at the crowd, then shut the door gently behind them.

[shurisneakers]

espresso [11]

Summary: In which your best friend’s brother begins to set you up on dates when you mention that you haven’t been in a relationship in years, but things don’t go as expected.

Warning:  mentions of past cheating, angst, anger, family problems, homophobia, sadness,

Word count: 4.8k

A/N: im returning after 2 months again oops im sorry does anyone still read this anymore, also this is the longest chapter of espresso so far go us!! this is my entry for @viktordrago‘s writing challenge. listen this chapter seems to be @samingtonwilson approved so i think y’all will like it too. also give her some love, she deserves it

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous part- Part 10 || Espresso Masterlist

“Y/N, I’m glad you could make it!”

Stepping into Becca's house cautiously, you sent an awkward wave to Bucky’s mother who beamed at you in disproportionate reciprocation, rushing to help you with your coat and giving you a quick hug in the process.

“Hey Mrs. B." You tried your best to speak through the thickness of your throat, forcing yourself not to stiffen in her embrace. “How ya been?”

“Exhausted,” she laughed, shaking her head gently. “Ain’t easy getting all of them to get along for three days.”

You felt that. You were tired too.

You offered her a sympathetic smile and followed her lead to the dining room, scanning your surroundings for any sign of her son and not engaging in her spirited chatter. 

The house smelled like pine scented candles and vanilla essence, the same as it did every year without fail. Since you were last there two days ago, a large tree now sat in the living room, too tall to stand upright with the top pushing against the low ceiling at an odd angle. It wasn't a real tree but, in your experience, was considered a part of the Barnes family and decorated to the nines.

You quietly slid into the seat next to Rebecca who only then seemed to pick up on your arrival, looking away from her phone. A quick glimpse of surprise flashed over her face, and understandably so.

“I remembered all your favorites,” Becca’s mom proudly gestured around the countertop where dishes were stacked, covered with lids or sheets of foil.

“It smells great.” It wasn’t a lie; it really did smell like a feast, but your wide range of junk food and Netflix at home was just as appealing, if not more.

Still, you forced a tight-lipped smile at her, thanking the heavens that she bought it a second later without so much as a question.

Eyebrows drawn together, you took a closer look at Becca’s mom. The bags under her eyes were more pronounced and her steps were heavier as if carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders was finally getting to her.

She seemed distracted, distant almost. You knew she had learned to detach herself from a lot of the negativity around her over the years but it was beginning to feel like she was tuning out altogether.

You felt Becca lean in to whisper to you, asking for your attention but never once taking her eyes off her mom who had turned to double checking everything she made while giving a brief rundown on each dish. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How you holdin’ up?”

“Fine,” you answered shortly.

She spared you a brief glance to raise her eyebrow. “Really?”

“Always.” Becca didn't say anything but you didn't miss the slight twitching of her jaw as she looked ahead.

You know she hadn’t expected you to show up after the call you’d shared the night before. It lasted well into the late hours, and you weren’t sure when it had ended since you’d fallen asleep from the emotional toll the evening had taken on you. Obviously, you had left out the parts about Bucky, figuring that it was something you both had to talk about yourselves, whenever time demanded it.

Speaking of whom, he was nowhere to be seen. It was a good thing. Longer the delay, the better.

“How’s your vacation going so far, Y/N?”

You hesitated but quickly recovered. “Good as it can get, Mrs. B.”

She smiled at you before she looking to the clock, “George and Bucky are at the store, they’ll be home any minute.”

“Tell them to take their time, we’re in no hurry,” Rebecca drawled in a dry deadpan, eyes narrowed at her nails to avoid her mother’s glower.

“Please try to be civil tonight.” She sighed, rubbing at her temples. You couldn’t imagine how the last few days must have been for her, stuck in the middle of the endless anger and pettiness from Becca and her dad’s feud.

“Me? Be an intentional pain in the ass? I would never.”

Her mom didn’t bother refuting the statement. She just absentmindedly untied the well-worn apron from her waist and, for a second, you thought she might strangle your best friend with it.

Instead, she hung it on the handle of the oven and exited the room to change into something that wasn’t covered in flour, leaving you both alone.

Becca waited until she was out of sight to spin around in her seat and face you. “Listen, you don’t have to stay here if you don't want to be around people right now. They'd understand.”

“I’ll get through,” you mumbled, shutting your eyes and leaning back in your chair.

“You don’t have to. Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with just because of some dumb tradition.”

“It’s just one evening, Becks,” you muttered as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Besides, I promised.”

She mulled over your words. Her teeth gently nipped at her bottom lip. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really, no.”

“Now or ever?”

“Right now it feels like ever, but we’ll see.”

“I knew I was right to spill my drink on Ronald McDonald.”

“That’s a new one,” you said, cracking one eye open to peek at her.

“It’s the hair,” she huffed as she gestured to the top of her head with a roll of her eyes. “I’m running out of characters, we need to eliminate her soon.”

“If it helps, I don’t think she-“

The reverberation from the loud slamming of the front door interrupted you mid-sentence. Becca stiffened at the boisterous laughter of her dad, and you were about to reach out a hand to comfort her but stopped when you realized it was accompanied by the more subdued chuckles of Bucky.

Fuck.

“Y/N!” Her dad’s voice made you jump from your chair instantly, knowing from years’ of experience that he was an old fashioned man, and sometimes not for the better. “It’s good to see you! How are you?”

“Hey, Mr. Barnes.” He had his hand out for a handshake and you remembered to comply firmly, a satisfied grin growing on his face at your actions. “I’m okay. How are you doing?”

“Clinging to life by a thread at this point, I’m afraid.” He shrugged off his coat and slightly ruffled his neatly combed back hair to get rid of the water droplets that had accumulated there.

You could hear the rustling of a paper bag as Bucky handed something over to his mom but you didn’t spare him a look, instead choosing to keep your eyes trained on his father.

“George!” Bucky’s mom scolded, joining in on the conversation as she placed the bag Bucky handed her on the counter.

“What?” Bucky’s dad laughed. He removed the scarf from his neck and took the place opposite to you at the small rectangular dining table.

You took a second to quickly assess Becca, only to find her mostly unfazed except for the slight edge in the way she was looking at her father and the way her leg was bouncing under the table, a habit she had been asked to get rid of multiple times but never really paid consideration to.

You could see from the corner of your eye Bucky standing awkwardly to the side, trying to find a place to sit down. His issue must have been that the only place left was next to you.

You focused ahead and prayed he would just sit down instead of drawing attention to himself and the glaringly obvious tension between you both.

He appeared to have the same thought, taking the seat but not offering a word of greeting or acknowledgement to you.

_________

You quickly found that your attention wasn’t very missed during the evening as long as you supplied occasional laughs or nods, whichever seemed appropriate given everyone else’s response. Most of your time  was spent watching Becca bounce her leg under the table.

“That’s basically how I started a Steve Buscemi fan club in my first year and didn’t realize I was president until like, six months in.”

“It’s not a club if you were the only member.”

“False, Y/N joined.” You perked up when you heard your name, taking a moment to register what had just been said. Up until then, you’d been playing around with the food on your plate, pushing around any vegetables in your path.

“I did?” you asked when it finally clicked in your brain what had just been said. It was safe to say you had no idea how the conversation ended up there, but you didn’t bother figuring it out.

“Yeah, I gave you a badge and everything.”

“Does Y/N even know she was a part of the club, or…” her mother asked, a good-natured smile on her face as she took a sip from her glass.

“I very much did not.”

“Excuse me, what?” Becca dropped her cutlery incredulously. “I just- okay. Fine. I see how it is.”

Another pretend laugh and you were out of the conversation again, for which you were thankful because it was taking all your energy to talk and your social battery was practically drained to begin with.

You’d forgotten Bucky was next to you until he reached over to fill your glass again, startling you. You had seen his hunched shoulders and a thousand-yard stare on his face make an appearance quite a while ago and it hadn’t changed since then. He looked like he would rather be anywhere than here.

You subtly nodded in thanks, to which he just went back to looking down at the plate. Guess he didn’t see it.

“College was different back in my day,” Bucky’s dad smiled reflectively, placing his fork and knife down to talk, his eye catching yours.

“Is it very different from what it is now?” you asked in response to his nonverbal cue to. You hoped he would launch into one more of his long tirades to pass the time.

“It was a smaller community back then. Most kids you went to school with ended up at the same college as you so y’didn’t make a lot of friends but you sure kept the ones you did.” He sounded wistful, nostalgic. “It’s one of the reasons I tried to get these two to stay here.”

“Oh?” Becca swallowed what she was chewing, her tone challenging. Her eyes were narrowed. Uh-oh. “I thought it was so that you could have complete control over me and my love life.”

A silence that could only be described as awkward ensued. The only sounds were of Becca’s fork and knife scraping against her plate as she ignored the surprise she elicited from her words.

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t get yourself mixed with the wrong crowd, Becca.” Her dad laughed but you could tell that it was dry and forced as he picked up his silverware, pretending like nothing out of the ordinary had been said.

“The wrong crowd- alright.“ she scoffed, single eyebrow skeptically cocked.

“Y/N-” he turned his attention to you, expression unaffected. “How did your semester go?”

“It certainly… went,” you tried at a poor attempt to diffuse the tension in the room, which was surprisingly well-received by him. Though at this point anything would be a saving grace for him.

“Ain’t that the same for all of us. Don’t think I ever learned what I paid for.” He shrugged. “What about you, James?”

“Huh?” Bucky only just seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was stuck in, looking around wildly for a second. “Oh, yeah, semester went okay.”

“And Becca?”

“It was okay,” she replied curtly.

“Only okay?” He raised his eyebrow at her. “Is there a specific reason for that?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She flashed him a big smile and you could see the look of utter distress begin to set in on her mother’s face.

“Fine.” He cleared his throat. “Because I hope you don’t forget why we’re sending you to college.”

“To fuck girls and make bank,” she muttered under her breath. 

You had to suppress a snort and disguise it weakly as a cough. Real smooth.

“What did you say?” Oh shit.

“Hm?” she asked, feigning surprise.

“I want to know what it is you said to yourself.” His eyebrows were knit together in brewing anger, jaw clenched and eyes cold.

“Alright,” she said easily, fearlessly. Putting her fork and knife down, she leaned forward, her chin on the palm of her hand. Her stare was bold. “I asked why you weren’t asking Bucky all of this.”

 “Becca, don’t-“ her mother started, only to be interrupted by Becca’s dad’s response to her question.

“Oh please,” he scoffed as he looked away in annoyance.  

“No, seriously. Why aren’t you telling Bucky these things? He didn’t say his semester went all that great either.”

Bucky coughed and sunk back into his chair as if to move away from the conversation. You looked at him, tilting your head in a silent bid for him to intervene and put a stop to it before it got out of control.

He bit his lip and remained silent. He didn’t seem to notice your action.

Their dad’s response was defensive. “I’d tell him the same things if I was concerned about him.”

“No, you wouldn’t. We know that.” She shook her head and you could see her leg stop bouncing under the table. “What’s the real reason, huh? You worried I’m gonna go get hitched to the first person I see?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m sorry, I should have specified.” She cleared her throat. “To the first girl I see?”

You could see his posture straighten further, something you didn’t even think was possible. His Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed thickly, remaining speechless.

Becca hadn’t moved an inch.

“Did you tell him about Natasha?” She looked at her mother, who was as still as she could be other than a slight shake of her head.

“Who’s Natasha?” Mr. Barnes’ voice cut through before their exchange continued, alternating glances between his wife and her.

Becca leaned back in her seat with a subtly smug expression, arms crossed over her chest. “My girlfriend.”

You inhaled sharply, dreading what was to come.

There was complete silence for a moment before her dad laughed nervously. “I can’t be expected to know every new friend-“

“Not friend. Girlfriend.” She clarified. “Two very different things.”

“Maybe we should discuss this after dinner, hm?” Her mother looked around the table, giving everyone a shaky smile. “Does anyone want anymore-“

“Why? Isn’t this normal dinner talk?” She tightened her arms over her chest further, defiantly. “I tell you about what’s going on in my life, give you a little background on who I’ve been seeing-“

“Not now, Becca.” Her dad’s voice was lower than usual and he was avoiding her stare.

“She’s Russian, by the way. Met her at a party-“

“Rebecca.”

You looked back at Bucky, unsure of what to do.

For the first time that night you met his eyes, only to find him as uncomfortable as you. You could tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek, but he hadn’t said anything yet.

“Been together a couple of months, she’s got a big family-“

“Enough!” Her dad brought his hand down harshly on the table, making you jump and gasp. His fists were clenched to the point of whitening his knuckles, a vein was prominent against the skin of his neck.

Rebecca didn’t bat an eye. “No.”

“Becks-“ Bucky finally tried, snapping you from your daze to reach for her hand. She gripped onto you tightly.

“Stop,” she said to him making him shut his mouth as quickly as he opened it. You could see red rimming her eyes. “Just stop. He needs to hear this.”

She looked back at her dad, a slight quiver almost unnoticeable in her otherwise strong voice. “My girlfriend’s name is Natasha, and I love her. I won't let you erase her existence like how you did with all my ex-girlfriends.”

“You didn’t have ex-girlfriends, this is just one of your-“

“What? Phases?” She paused, waiting for him to agree with her. “It’s not. And even if it was, so fucking what?”

You could see her mother flinch at the curse word but maintained her silence. She looked like she was dissociating from the situation again.

“I’m a lesbian, dad. My girlfriend is bisexual. We’re together,” she emphasized the last part. “It’s about time you accept it or learn to live with it.”

Her chair scraped behind her loudly as she stood up, her hand letting go of yours.

“Dinner was delicious, Ma. Thank you.” She flashed her a shaky smile before spinning on her heel and leaving the room.

Bucky and you shared a nervous glance before you broke it to look at his mother.

With a subtle tilt of her head in the direction Rebecca had gone in, you knew you had her permission to leave so you just quickly stacked your plate on top of Becca’s before taking off behind her.

“Becca!” you called after her, taking two steps at a time to catch up with her.

“M’fine,” she grunted, shoulders stiff as she walked into her room, slamming the door behind her.

“Let me in, Rebecca.” You hastily knocked on the wood.

You could hear loud arguing in the dining room, but you chose not to discern its content. You figured it wasn’t your place to listen in.

“Everything’s fine, Y/N, don’t bother.” Her voice was muffled. You couldn’t tell if she was crying, which only stressed you out more.

You leaned your forehead against the door, hoping your words would be clearer. “You know it isn’t. Just open the door and we can talk about it.” 

The door swung open and you staggered back in an effort to not fall face first to the ground. Becca had pulled on a hoodie and had changed into sweatpants, hair in a loose ponytail.

“Y/N,” she began, “I’m fine. Seriously.”  

“Becca, you don’t have to-“

“I just need to clear my head.” The redness around her eyes had reduced significantly, but was still present. It gave you all the more reason to believe she wasn’t being completely truthful. “Really. I said what I had to say, I just got overwhelmed while doing it.”

You remained silent, lips pressed together in a tight line, waiting for her to go on.

“I just need to be alone for some time, to think some things through. I’m-“ Becca lingered, letting her shoulders relax. “I’m okay. I got this, I promise; just… trust me.”

You stared at her, trying to formulate your next move. Would you be a shitty person if you left her alone like this?

“Tell me if you need anything, and I mean anything. I’ll be right here.”

She nodded, slipping you a small smile before closing the door softly. You heard the click of her lock, indicating that you made the right choice.

You sighed, sinking to the floor adjacent to her door. You could stay there for some more time, just in case. 

You were probably just being too paranoid, but just in case.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there to see if she’d rush back out, but you stopped keeping track after a while.

Someone’s heavy footsteps alerted you of their presence as they paced down the hallway where you were perched. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. You didn’t spare him a glance even as he paused for a second next to you before joining you on the floor, crossing his legs in front of him.

“She doin’ okay?” Bucky sounded out of breath and you wondered if he ran up the stairs like you had.

“She said she was,” you mumbled, picking at your cuticles. “She isn’t leaving her room though.”

He exhaled, followed by the dull thump of his head falling against the wall behind him. “Beck’s strong. She’ll pull through. Just gotta… just gotta give her some time.”

You closed your eyes. You just wanted to sleep. It was just so tiring; everything was so tiring.

“’m sorry you got caught up in this.” He pulled his knees up so they were tucked against him. “It shouldn’t-“

“Why didn’t you stand up for her down there?” you cut him off and opened your eyes to look at him. “You’re her brother. She needed support and you-“

“Think of what just happened. Would that have helped?” he asked coolly.

“It sure would have helped her-“

“This isn’t the first time it’s happened, you know that.” He turned his head towards you. “We’ve been through this before, I’ve been through this before. I’ve tried to help, so many times. It ends up with either Becca or my dad despising me. It’s just… it’s exhausting.”

You bit your tongue and forced yourself to calm down before your anger got the best of you. You knew about this, Bucky himself telling you about his involvement. How you let yourself forget it so carelessly was beyond you.

“You’re right, though.” He shrugged, surprising you. “I told my dad this time that if he cuts her off, he can- he can do the same for me. ‘M sticking by her side.”

He let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

He shrugged again, looking straight ahead at the wall. He was chewing on his lip, eyebrows pulled together as he toyed with what you just noticed were bandages on his left knuckles. You wondered how the hell he managed to get those within two days.

It was close to nine thirty. You were beginning to question if you should pack up and go since there was no sound coming from Becca’s end. She had probably gone to sleep.

“I’m gonna-“ you began to tell Bucky that you were leaving, only to be interrupted.

“I didn’t do it, y’know,” he said quietly.

You stop for a moment before you finally look at him. “Do what?”

It was a dumb question. You knew exactly what he was talking about. You just weren’t sure if this was the time or place to talk about it.

“Set you up like that. I had no idea he was going to be there.”

“I know, I shouldn’t have said that.” You didn’t bother hiding that you knew it was plain overreaction on your end. It would be completely out of his nature. “But it doesn’t mean you didn’t know about him and Dot, or that you didn’t pair me up with people you knew I wouldn’t like.”

“You really believe that I wouldn’t tell you about Dot and Rumlow if I knew?” He twisted his body to face you. “That I’d spend even a second with her if I knew she was the girl he cheated with?”

“Rumlow and you spent too long together for me to not believe you had not even the slightest clue, Bucky-“

“But I didn’t. Rumlow and I- we never got along. Never spent any time that I wasn’t forced to with him. Couldn’t stand the guy, especially since-“ Bucky hesitated, before clearing his throat. “Doesn’t matter. The point is I wasn’t aware at all.”

“Especially since what?”

“What?”

“You said you didn’t like him especially since what?” you pressed on it, your curiosity too eager to ignore even though it was probably insignificant anyway.

“It’s nothing, doesn’t even matter now.” He scanned you for a second. “He just had a chance at something I never did.”

“At what?”

“Nothing, Y/N, just drop it.”

“Fine.” It didn’t make sense to dwell on it further if it just meant you getting riled up on something small that didn’t even matter. “What about the others?”

“Who?” He squinted, trying to find a connection to what you were talking about.

“Vision. Tony. I don’t even remember the others.”

He sighed and rubbed his temples. “If you’re asking whether I handpicked people you’d hate just to make you waste your time and energy, the answer is I didn’t.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Well-“

“But-” he continued at the same time as you, in all seriousness. You both went quiet at the same time until he clenched his eyes shut and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing, it’s bullshit.”

“I didn’t care about the last one, but this clearly includes me so speak up.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Both of them include you,” he said under his breath, almost inaudible expect for the fact that you were sitting right next to him and you could even hear every breath he took.

“Wait, what?”

He stared at you, panic written on his face. “I didn’t think you’d hear that.”

“I did, so explain it.”

“I told you, it’s nothing-“

“Why are you being so secretive all of a sudden?” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “I don’t get it, what’s your issue here? Why do you keep hinting at things like you expect me to understand everything?”

“I don’t expect you to understand any of it, Y/N, because you haven’t all these years,” he snapped, making you tilt your head in confusion.

Your eyebrows were raised so high you thought they might touch your hairline. “Excuse me?” 

“I couldn’t make it more obvious at this point.” He sounded annoyed, but it didn’t seem directed at you. That didn’t make it less infuriating though.

“What the hell are you talking about, Bucky?” you were amazed at how cryptic he could be.

“If you still haven’t gotten it, then-“

“Is this about the cups?” you interjected, mouth moving faster than your brain. “Because I know about them.”

He froze midway running his hand through his hair in frustration. “The what?” 

“I know you write stuff on them,” you continued calmly, realizing you had hit some kind of a spot. You didn’t tell him you didn’t know what exactly he wrote on them because no one had told you yet.

“Oh.” He choked out. “For how long have you- have you known?”

“A month or so.” You shrugged. “So if that’s what you’re referring to then-“

You trailed off, not knowing what to say next. He had gone still. An uncomfortable silence blanketed you both.

He swallowed thickly, jaw clenching. “I guess I have my answer then.”

He wordlessly got to his feet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and began walking towards his room two doors down, leaving you utterly confused.

“What?” You scrambled to your feet to follow him. “Where are you-“

“Listen, Y/N, I got it,” he murmured, “I’m sorry I brought it up. You don’t have to explain anything.”

“Yeah, you might be the only one here who got anything, buddy.” You grabbed onto his shoulder in an effort to get his attention. “Will you please just stop-“

“I got your message,” he said quietly, stopping in front of his door. “Loud and clear.”

“James-“ You frowned because suddenly this felt way bigger than what you previously thought it to be. It was just a disagreement; you didn’t expect to see yourself losing a lifelong friendship over it.

“I’m, uh, sorry about the dates. I know you won’t believe me, but I truly didn’t mean for them to turn out like that.” He twisted the lock to his door open and walked in.

You chose to stay at the doorway, not wanting to intrude on his personal space without asking him if he was alright with it. You didn’t know what to say, he just seemed so dejected for some reason he wasn’t letting on.

He went to his table, pulling open a drawer and shifted some books from it before retrieving something else. He wiped at it with his sleeve, briefly looking at it while returning to where you were standing.

“This is yours,” he mumbled, handing it over to you. “As promised, since I didn’t keep up my end of the promise.”

It was a white envelope, frayed at the edges but still fairly surviving the years of being kept in the drawer. It didn’t take you more than three seconds to realize what it was.

It was the letter he promised you at the beginning of your deal.

“I’ll see you later. Have a good Christmas, Y/N.” He forced a small smile on his face before gently closing the door, leaving you alone in the corridor.

You flipped the envelope over to the front, fingers scrabbling to open it. After a few seconds of tripping over your own impatience, you tore the top open. You pulled out the paper, stomach lurching at the sight of his handwriting.

Dear Dolores:

Part 12

[alfred-braginsky]

WRITE THE 1930’S GANSTER FIC YES YES YES IM HERE FOR IT

You got it ! 

Warning: Some graphic depictions of violence, dead body, organized crime, smoking. Gangster boyfriends inspired by this piece of art. 

Thank you @capncronchnberries and your followers for the consistent inspiration lately! @ the people who sent me prompts a whilllleee ago I’m working on them I swear! | AO3 |

1931 Chicago, Illinois

A wet crack resounded against the brick walls of the isolated alley. The occasional footsteps could be heard from late night dock workers making their way to speakeasies. Nothing like a visit to the ol’ gin mill to put a few bucks into the pockets of the gangsters that ran them.

Alfred tightly gripped the bloodied baseball bat as he examined his work. A man dressed in a cheap suit eyes wide open; head split open blood spilling from the blunt force that was used to kill him, laid in horror in the forgotten alley.

“It makes it harder to clean up this way.”

“Yeah, but you know he had it comin’ and I’ve been real stressed lately, it was good to let it out.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t use your beloved gun.” Ivan took a handkerchief and handed it to Alfred, who graciously took it to wipe the speckled blood on his face.  

“She’s a beaut! Dame of my life. Like I said, been kind stressed lately. You know the boss’ been down our necks for collecting our green before it’s due.”

Ivan nodded. It’s true. Romulus had been getting up in the years, still young, but not as young as he used to be. There was talk about him starting to lose control of the empire of crime he built. Rumors that didn’t sit well with him. He sent his best blonde with a baseball bat to squash the talk of the town.

“You talk about this gun as if she as feelings.”  

“Pfft, she’s got about as much feelings as your rusty pipe.”

“Leave Anya out of this.”

“Aw, are you jealous, big guy? C'mon you know I’ve put my finger on your trigger in a way Amelia doesn’t know.”

Ivan’s eyes rolled so far back he was afraid they would be stuck there forever. Alfred could be so crude and unprofessional, but the way he smirked at him so smugly he could only let out a sigh of annoyance.

“There is a man lying dead in the alley and all you can do is make lewd comments.”

“Want me to cover his ears?”

“We need to cover him up.”

Alfred nodded, his demeanor changing into something more serious. The blood would eventually darken and blend into every other ominous stain on the brown brick wall.  

“Right, before any coppers show up.”

“Precisely.”

Romulus had paid off a considerable amount of the police department, however, they still needed to be careful and dispose of the bodies as discreetly as possible. The corpse was wrapped into burlap cloth bleeding through the thick fabric. Alfred had the body on his shoulder as Ivan backed the car into the narrow alley. The trunk was popped open and Alfred dumped the body there along with his bat and shut the door. He sat up front in the passenger seat next to Ivan.

They drove in silence; which Ivan thought was out of character for Alfred. Even after killing a man in cold blood, the man was usually bubbly and had a motor on his mouth going faster than any car he’s seen. But today, he’s quiet. Was Romulus really giving him a hard time? Or maybe it was Arthur? He’ll give him his space for now.

They drove to Bubbly Creek. The place always reeked of sulfur and death, but it was the perfect spot to get rid of any garbage. They stopped the car and got as close to the river as possible. It was hard to see where they were stepping, the moon not helping much in illuminating their way.

Alfred and Ivan got out of the car. Alfred lingered for a moment and immediately lit a cigarette while Ivan went to open the trunk and get the cinder blocks out, placing them on the ground. The smaller of the two took a long drag of the nicotine stick before making his way to the other man.

He slipped the smoke from his lips as he approached the trunk and passed it over to Ivan. Ivan had already begun reaching for it just as Alfred offered it and took in between his fingers in one smooth motion. Sharing a smoke while getting rid of a body had become a familiar ritual between them.

The body was flung over Alfred’s shoulders, and Ivan picked up both cinder blocks and rope while the cigarette was safely placed between his lips. Mud squelched as they made their way closer to the bridge.  

Alfred set the body onto the ground and Ivan got work with the heavy bricks and secured them around where the man’s neck was and his legs. They hoisted him back up onto the ledge of the bridge.

“1. 2. 3.” and pushed him into the river and the man fell with a splash. They didn’t need to look to see that the man sunk fast.

“Let’s go back, solnyshko.” Ivan typically wouldn’t use the nickname he had for Alfred outside their apartment, but he could see the stress of the day weighing on him. It was all worth it seeing the way his lips curled into an amused smile.

“Aren’t you full of surprises?”

Ivan turned his head left and right as he searched the area. He knew no one was here. It was the dead of night at one of the foulest smelling areas since the Union Stock Yards. Alfred watched him curiously then eyes opening wide as Ivan kissed him.

Their cautious kiss ended as quickly as it had started. Alfred’s worried creases were replaced by crinkles of elation.

“Buy your best fella a drink?” Alfred’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Ivan’s heart skipped a beat.

“I suppose you deserve it.”

[elisaphoenix13]

Trigger The Light (Ch.4)

The small quantum tunnel that Scott had wouldn't be enough, so Tony started building a larger one with Scott's help as they waited for the rest of the team to arrive. Quill helped as well, but he just did the heavy lifting while Tony and Scott handled the engineering. Not that he had much choice. The moment Tony announced they were going to build a bigger tunnel, he looked at Quill and told him he was helping because he was 'freakishly strong' for a powerless god hybrid.

Quill was pretty sure there was an insult in there somewhere.

"Flash Gordon, come lift this will you?" Tony calls from the skeletal structure of the tunnel.

Quill sighs. "Sure why not."

He walks over and helps lift a panel for the billionaire to weld and distracts himself by looking around the large room. It was pretty empty since most of the others were out gathering the rest of their team members from all corners of the world, but Steve and Scott were still there. The captain was busy getting lunch together for everyone's imminent arrival, and Scott was sitting on a table fiddling with a circuit board in his lap. Quill quickly discovered that the younger thief had a tendency to puff out his cheeks when he got frustrated or annoyed with something he was working on, and he thought it was adorable. The pout that followed was just icing on the cake. Quill never thought he would look at another man and think any little things he did would be adorable. Sure, he's appreciated a man here and there, but Scott was a whole new ballgame...he had this unexplainable urge to protect him.

He can protect himself, Quill firmly reminds himself. He knew that, yet, a part of him refused to accept that. Was it maybe because Scott was Cassie's father? He was protective of her so maybe it was rolling over to Scott...but that wouldn't make sense because he was protective of Diana as well and he didn't have the urge to protect Tony. In fact. His mind was pretty content to leave the billionaire to his own devices.

For the most part.

He didn't want Diana to lose her dad too.

"Alright. You can let go now." Tony interrupts Quill's thoughts and they both move away from the panel. "Hey Stuart Little! How's that board coming?"

"Just a second!" Scott shouts. After a little more fiddling, he lifts the circuit board from his lap, hops off the table, and walks over to them. "I had to rewire some things but it's good to go now."

"Good. I'll get this wired in with the rest." Tony climbs back through the skeletal structure as Steve walks into the room with a single white bag and holds it up.

"Soup's on!"

Quill snorts. "That's not going to feed all of us."

"Of course not. The rest is in the kitchen." Steve throws the bag at Quill and the pirate barely manages to hold it to his chest. Scott grabs the bag from him and looks through it with a growing smile. "You got tacos!"

Quill snatches the bag from him and holds it up out of the younger's reach. "Those are all mine."

"Do not test me when it comes to tacos Spaceman!"

"Or what?" Quill taunts.

Something he instantly regretted because Scott proceeded to punch him in the ribs. Quill groans and hunches over to clutch at complaining muscles and the thief grabs the now lowered bag. He grabs a couple of tacos before handing the bag back to Quill and smirks at the older man before striding away with his food. The punch didn't hurt that bad, but it would definitely make Quill think twice in the future. Hopefully there would be a future whether or not Scott remained just a friend.

"He did warn you." Tony points out. "Leave a couple of those on the table for me will you? Go eat with your boyfriend."

Quill turns and glares at the engineer. "He's not-I'm going to throw them at you and you can eat them off the floor asshole!"

"Chill Porcupine. Not everyone knows about your little crush on him."

Quill sighs heavily and pulls a couple of tacos out of the bag and sets them on the table per Tony's request before walking away.

"Yet."

The pirate ignores Tony as he hears the unmistakable sounds of his ship, walks out to the back, and watches with sympathy when Rhodey lands in front of Scott and scares the man of his lunch. Just from where Scott was sitting, Quill was sure part of the tacos were blown away by the ship as it landed. To think the younger went to such lengths to get his food and then have them blown away.

He pulls another two out of the bag he's holding and hands them to Scott, and just when he sits down and pulls out the three leftover, he freezes. There were two ships sitting on the field, and one of them he was sure had been abandoned on a planet years ago. Half of it had been missing then, but now it was sitting thirty yards away, and in one piece.

"No way." Quill gasps out and Scott gives him a look from beside him.

Rocket steps onto the grass and looks between Quill and the second, smaller ship. "You're just now seeing that? It's been here for the past year."

The pirate abandons his tacos on the bench next to Scott and jogs over to The Milano with a look of awe as he looks it over. Quill honestly thought he would never see it again. When it had been abandoned, he considered it gone because there was no doubt some junkers would come across it and strip it of anything valuable, but it was there. When he went inside, he found that almost everything was still there.

"You're welcome Starmunch!" Rocket calls from outside the ship.

Quill would thank him later, even if he did call him Starmunch. He'd call him a trash panda and call it even anyway. He was too busy getting himself reacquainted with his ship right now.

"I was nice enough not to eat these perfectly good tacos you left behind. Monster." Scott says from the mouth of the ship before stepping in further and handing the food over to Quill.

"Right. Food. Thanks." Quill replies absently as he sits at the table.

Scott stands nearby as Quill sits back in his chair and throws his feet up onto the table, and he unwraps his taco to take a bite. It was polished off in the span of a minute and Quill only slowed down halfway through his second before looking up at Scott. He wipes his lower lip free of sauce with his thumb and sucks it off as the younger looks around and then raises an eyebrow in question when the thief looks down at him.

"So...what's so special about this ship?" He asks. "Isn't the other one yours?"

"Yeah, but everyone uses that one. This is mine. It always has been from the beginning. Memories...you know?" Scott nods and Quill finishes his second taco before continuing. "We had to abandon it on a planet after we crashed."

"It couldn't be fixed?"

Quill pauses his unwrapping of his third taco, and shrugs before resuming and taking a bite. It was then he told the story of his heritage. How he found his father, what said father planned to do, and how they had to kill Ego to keep him from taking over the universe. Scott sat in the chair next to him as Quill rambled, and remained quiet throughout the whole story. In the back of his mind, Quill wondered if Scott actually cared or if he was just being considerate and letting the powerless celestial air out his laundry. The second thought had Quill's heart clenching.

But Scott surprised him.

"You're sure you don't have those powers anymore?" He asks and Quill nods.

"Yeah. I watched the light in my hands disappear. And yes, I've tried just to make sure." He says when Scott opens his mouth. "Nothing. Except maybe the strength and possible longevity." Quill finally finishes his lunch and looks up at the roof of his ship.

"Do you miss space?" The man beside him asks quietly.

"Not like I thought I would." Quill admits. "My father figure died because of Ego, and Thanos was kind of the last straw for me. Drax, Mantis, Groot...they're gone because of these damn stones...and he killed Gamora for one of them. She was my best friend...and I thought I loved her, but…" He trails off and Scott tilts his head curiously.

"But what?"

"Well, looking back after recent events, I realized it wasn't romantic love. She was just a good friend." Quill huffs in amusement. "It's probably a good thing. She yelled at me a lot so that wouldn't have been a healthy relationship. She deserved better than me."

"You shouldn't sell yourself short. Anyone would be lucky to have you." Scott reassures him and Quill stretches as he drops his feet to the floor with a thunk.

"Yeah, well, if you know anyone, be sure to send them my way." The pirate says with a chuckle as he stands. "Want a tour?"

Scott gave him an unreadable look for a few moments before it morphs into a smile and he stands up as well. Quill shows him around both the Milano as well as the larger ship, and he slips into the captain's quarters to grab a few things before Rocket took the ship out again. Specifically the first mixtape his mother had given him. Unfortunately, Ego had destroyed the second one along with his walkman, but he missed listening to the first one. Now that he had the Milano back, he could listen to it again. He didn't have much faith that Tony had something sitting around that would play the tape because the man was too advanced.

"You really were out of touch if that's what you've been listening to for thirty years." Scott comments from the doorway. 

"It's literally the last thing I have left from my mother. I had no way of listening to it until now."

Quill passes by Scott and motions for the other man to follow him as he walks back to the Milano, and then walks straight for the cassette player built into the ship. He pops the tape in and presses play, and quickly loses himself in the familiar music when it starts up. Even after thirty years of endlessly listening to the same songs over and over again, he never got sick of it. It was nice to have a few happy memories returned to him.

When a slower song comes on, Quill turns to Scott and smirks. "Dance with me."

Scott scrunches his nose. "It's a slow song."

"And?" Quill grabs Scott's hand and pulls him closer. "I'll even lead."

"I'm capable of leading-"

"Nope. Too bad. I'm taller and older." The pirate quips and grins when Scott scowls up at him.

"Be careful Spaceman. People will start to think you're flirting with me."

Quill's heart jumps up into his throat but he swallows it down when Scott allows the older man to lead them. It surprisingly didn't take very long for the pair to fall into an easy rhythm, and Quill barely noticed how easily they moved around the open area of the ship they were dancing in. He noticed just enough to remember what his mother told him as a child.

Dancing is an exercise of trust. The easier you move, the more your partner trusts you.

He had no idea if it was true, but he still liked the idea that Scott trusted him. That they flowed around so smoothly because the younger thief trusted that Quill wouldn't let go or knock him into anything. Maybe it was the music, the heat building up between their almost touching bodies, or even the damn near golden eyes he finally got to see when Scott made eye contact...Quill didn't know. But something gave him the courage to open his mouth and whisper three words that had those golden eyes widening.

"Maybe I am."

He tilts his head down in what seemed like slow motion and he hears the moment Scott sucks in a breath. He wasn't pulling away or pushing Quill away so he took that as permission to proceed. When Quill was a hair's breadth away from kissing Scott, a shout had them jumping away from each other as Rhodey walks into view.

"Did you guys hear me? Tones says lunch break is over. Time to get back to work on the tunnel."

Quill rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry. Music was going and we were talking and touring the ship."

It wasn't a lie and the colonel seemed to accept it and walks away with a final warning to get back inside, and Quill looks over at Scott. Except the man was already halfway down the ramp, covering his mouth with his hand, and sporting a bright red blush that reached his ears. As soon as both Rhodey and Scott are out of sight, Quill groans and drops into the nearest chair and leans forward to bury his face in his hands. He had no idea what was going to happen now. His feelings were out in the open for Scott, and while He didn't run as Quill was making his move, he fled after the interruption. Was Scott glad nothing happened? Or was he maybe disappointed? Quill was disappointed, that was for sure.

He was so damn close.