#though i say that but i do recall The Stranger and Clockwork Heart had a lot of competition going on when they were live

[icharchivist]

actually it’s hilarious that the ranking for a3′s current event, to get Hisoka’s SSR, are filled with people begging for sleep now. We are all losing sleep for the one character who sleeps the most, while we’re probably all the type to relate to how sleepy he is. dedication really.

[sichengtual]

meeting taeil under the falling snow was your one long-standing traditions, tending to your feelings until they, like flowers, were ready to bloom in full.

— pairing: moon taeil x reader.

— au: soulmates.

— genre: fluff.

— word count: 1767.

— playlist: more than words — extreme; on the snow — exo.

for @seodami​, from your @neoculturechristmas​’s secret santa! i had a lot of fun writing this for you, and i hope you’ve been enjoying enjoying your holidays! here’s a little something for you 💓

You had always known both you and Taeil were creatures of habit. 

It had been clear, since the very beginnings of your relationship, that part of the reason you understood each other so well was because you functioned so similarly in the first place. You had met in between previously set scenes, noticed each other purely because of the way you blended yourselves right into each other’s lives so naturally, it was hard for you to tell when you had started to blend into one cohesive picture to begin with. 

He felt like a childhood friend and a mysterious stranger all at the same time: with the sense of familiarity that could only belong to a bond that has been created in the course of a lifetime, and the excitement behind getting to meet him almost once again every time he showed you a new side of himself. You had always known it was special, how he could make you feel known yet undiscovered with a single look, with something in his eyes letting you see the exact point where both outlooks intertwined. You had always felt it was unique, with the calmness behind his smile and the thrill behind his voice — and you had always been sure he had felt it too. 

Despite the brief four years of knowing each other, in a way, it almost felt like he had always been there. Like he had always belonged in your life just like you had always belonged in his, your meeting being the final piece of a puzzle that had been many years in the making, the finishing touches of a life’s work masterpiece. Him being in your life, somehow, made sense. 

And, as such, it became hard to imagine what it would have been like if he wasn’t. Looking back, there were so many things in your life you could connect back to Taeil, even when at a simple glance, none of them had really anything to do with him. He was just there, sunk so deep in the back of your mind that he was the sole protagonist of your thoughts and dreams even when he’s miles away.

The two of you held mirroring tattoos in the exact same way you had mirroring souls, each one of the lines drawn on your skin signaling the other that you were there.

But as much as Taeil lived inside of you as you lived inside of him, accepting the soulmate bond meant having to live life as two instead of one. It required commitment, and even though the two of you already knew you were gonna end up together, you agreed that feelings, just like flowers, can’t be pressured into blooming.

Taeil always met you at the Winter Carnival at exactly 7 p.m, as if on clockwork. He always waited next to the tallest lightpost, a bag of toasted chestnuts you’d share as you walked along the hundreds of small, fairy lights clad tents. Taeil would often stop and look at the little trinkets that were offered in the small shops, not buying anything unless you liked it.

“I just like doing it,” Taeil would always say. “It’s not that it’s anything big, it’s just something for you to think of me.”

You were sure he bought them to remember you, too. To look back and think of the colorful little trinkets he had purchased, recalling the memory of your hands brushing together as you walked side by side just as night started to fall. 

It was just you and him, meeting each other once a year before it got dark. In a sense, it was a sort of sign, reminding you of each other right before the new year rolled around. It gave you something to hope for, a sort of beacon at the end of the way. 

Just like that, just as time passed, you had started to fall in love with Taeil in the way people were expected to fall in love with their soulmates: completely and whole-heartedly. It almost felt like diving head first straight into the ocean, breaking through the icy waters in the promise of finding something so precious on the other end of the shore it gave you a rhythm to follow, a path to swim by. 

And you finally decided to tell him. 

Snow has just started falling when you leave the house.

It’s no different from every other carnival day: cool gusts of wind, warm spiced scents, bright flickering lights. People pass by you as you make your way into the fair, barely even brushing shoulders before they go back to being just a part of the background, holding no more significance than a brief locking of sights. Noises mix in together like an intricate score, voices and melodies composing an accompanying piece that set the beat not only to your steps, but to the scene as a whole. 

You’re surprised by how different it makes it feel; feeling happier with laughter and more neutral with the lack of it, occasionally setting your attention in the background accompaniments such as the soft ring of a bell or the muted honk of a horn. In complete honesty, it’s a picture perfect rendition of a scene only seen in movies, and it doesn’t help feeling like both you and Taeil could set its entire course with only a change in conversation. 

He’s waiting for you, holding a small white paper bag, like he always does. He’s dressed in warm, layered clothes, a smile on his lips only growing with each and every step you took in his direction. Small, almost translucent snowflakes are beginning to fall over his head, adorning the strands of hair that fell over his forehead, and you couldn’t help but think of just how much the current scene resembled one straight of a frame belonging in the Louvre. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” are the first words he says when looking at you. They carry a weight behind them, an actual sense of longing produced by the cruel passing of the time in which you were apart. 

His voice feels warm. 

“You got a haircut.” 

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Do you think it suits me?” 

“I think you’re absolutely rocking it.”

It’s not unusual for Taeil to grow shy. Even after the years and years you’d known him, he still blushes at your compliments, no matter how hard you try to convince him your words spoke nothing but the truth. He knew that, though, because your voice made everything sound like something he’s always been aware of. 

“Here, have some,” Taeil offers you a sheepish smile before he extends the paper bag in your direction. “They’re still warm.” 

Still looking at him, you take one of the chestnuts from the bag and propped it into your mouth, the salty top layer in the snack immediately melting in your mouth. Moving closer to him, you let your hand brush against Taeil’s free one, immediately following his steps as he starts walking. 

And, in all honesty, the atmosphere never stopped surprising you. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the light reflect upon Taeil, illuminating his face in an ensemble of warm, combining colors. You can only imagine the effect it must have on his eyes, bringing out their own natural glow in the exact same way it painted them in a kaleidoscope of different shades of Christmas. 

It’s funny when you recall this is the most magical night of the year. You think of having felt just that in Taeil’s embrace, having heard magic in his voice. You’re sure that his presence in your life is exactly what makes it magical, and get to feel just that when he takes your hand in his. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” Taeil says, his voice bringing you back from your haze. “About what we’re gonna do from now on.”

You nod, trying to get him to continue. You want to tell him you’ve been doing the exact same thing, thinking about moving forward, finally taking a step. But you wait until after he speaks, wanting to know what his stance is in the matter, getting to know both sides before pulling together a story. 

You can’t really make out what it is, but there’s something about Taeil’s voice that gives you hope. You keep walking through the growing crowd, having to move closer together to walk next to together next to the waves of people. Somewhere in there, Taeil finally laces your fingers together, feeling your heart growing warm.

“I know we decided to wait before we finally accepted what we are, and what it means for us,” he says. “We took what fate gave us and let it grow on its own accord, and now it doesn’t really feel like it was something made for us. It feels as if we’ve the ones that made it, growing closer because we wanted to, and not because it was simply imposed on us.” 

Taeil gives your hand a squeeze. 

“I’ve fallen in love with you the way it should be. It feels like I’ve been dreaming, somehow being happier in a dream that I’ve ever been while awake. And all this time, I was only dreaming of you.” 

You’ve reached the middle of the fair, coming to a stop next to your bench, right in front of the brightly lit carrousel. There’s a live band playing somewhere near, music reaching your ears right as you stop walking, and a strong scent of warm cider coming from somewhere in the tents. You turn to look at Taeil, looking at all the snow that has gathered on top of his head, and the slight blush on his cheeks that you can’t tell if it’s a product of his words or simply a reaction from the cold. 

You decide you don’t have to know.

“I’m in love with you too,” you say. “And not because of fate, but because of you. Fate only helped us find each other, but the rest grew from here. From us.” 

Taking a step in your direction, Taeil finally kissed you under a thousand flickering fairy lights. It was a change in the routine, a new tradition only but growing from an already existing one. Maybe the meetings under the snow were coming to an end, but you’d take a thousand sunny days by Taeil’s side over standing alone under the rain. 

Right there, with snow falling right on top of your head, you had never felt so warm.

[thrushpot]

in utero

“So, remember those prompts... well, I got more for you. Need 13 and 31, have fun with those two. ;P” requested by @fortheloveofhargrove

#13: “I thought you were dead.”

#31: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

warnings: ANGST 

—

Billy clicked his tongue and sang along to some mindless catchy tune beneath his breath as he eyed the dark and lonely road ahead of him. The radio was playing something he’d never even heard of before, but he was in a mood so good, so rare that it didn’t even matter. Drives like these were his favorite, when the world would just shut the fuck up for a second and he could run away to fantasy land in peace without any unwelcome intrusions. His right foot eased the gas pedal further down, gradually accelerating in hopes to arrive at his destination early so he could surprise her once she’s off the plane. The blonde boy behind the wheel felt almost as if he’d gotten slapped in the face with nostalgia as he recalled the last conversation he’d had with her before leaving.

Goodbyes were a thing that were never not painful or unsettling. That all too familiar dread of not knowing whether it’ll be the last time he’d see her, hug her, hell; even fucking smell her. As if it happened only yesterday, the boy could still hear the girl’s soft weeping muffled in his chest, can practically feel the way her body moved up and down with each broken sob. It was difficult to see someone usually so fearless, so composed and put together, like some CIA agent from an action flick break down and curl into him for warmth and support. He let a couple (okay, maybe more than a couple) salty tears of his own fall as he held her in his lap.

Y/N had been an irreplaceable constant back in the glory days, her having never broken his trust nor the laundry list of promises she’d sworn once the heartache of his departure had blown over. It was foolish to think that even for a second he could get over the bitterness of starting all over again at some mundane public school. It was also just as foolish to think he could just forget about missing her as the weeks turned to months and the months added up to a year. But that was just another ploy the universe threw his way, seemingly enjoying Billy’s pain and suffering. Tonight though, tonight was gonna be different. He won’t let a single thing overshadow him any longer. He refused to listen to his inner tormentor deep down that laughed whenever he tried rationalizing how he would go about giving his confession, telling her his secret. As Billy goes over the script in his head, he clears his throat and adjusts the rear view mirror to himself as he practices his performance again. Real casual-like, he flashes a smile over at his reflection, pretending it’s her that’s watching.

“Y/N, lookin’ ah, looking good. Beautiful, actually. Know you already got a line of guys tellin’ you this every damn day, but I mean it when I say you somehow get prettier every time I see you. I really missed us hanging out, y’know? Takes me back to all those long nights, and uh... since I left I’ve been thinkin’ a lot...” he licks his lips and thinks back to the lines he’d gone over in his head like clockwork. His face twists into something more down and depressing, like whatever he’s trying to say will only burden their already troubled lives. “Too much, actually. I realize I’ve done almost nothing else worth my fucking time here except think of you whenever I feel shitty or, or like when everything is too much yet not enough. It’s been — been one of the only things I feel has real meaning to it for once, actually makes sense. ‘Cause you get me, and no one ever surprises me unless you do, and ah...” the blushing blonde shakes his head, a stray blonde curl falling to his forehead in the process of scolding himself with a swear before starting over.

“You know what? Fuck this. Let’s just go. We could just fuck off somewhere, go get a couple drinks, have a couple laughs, and... fuck. Shut up, you idiot. Don’t quote Die Hard on her for fuck sake,” he slaps his palm on his face, scoffing at his own stupidity before his eyes grew twice their size realizing how close the airport had become in the distance. He feels the same old doubt return right over his shoulder, and it smirks as if it’s being proven right; that telling her what he feels really is a horrible mistake. That it’s nothing but a rotten idea he’ll regret when she laughs in his face and turns around to fly right back to Santa Monica.

Billy’s heart is practically in his mouth by the time he pays for the ridiculously priced parking ticket and makes his way to the gate. His fucking leg somehow decides to grow a mind of its own, bouncing up and down with urgency while his teeth are occupied with chewing his fingernails down to the nub. He remembers when the roles were reversed once upon a time, when he was on the plane and she was the one agitated while sitting in the airport. Y/N still had that precious pink flush coating her cheeks when he was ready to board his flight, holding onto one of his biceps when she’d whispered something in his ear that had stuck with him:

”Don’t ever forget to remember me, okay?”

When Billy finally opens his eyes back up to the world around him, a herd of exhausted and enthusiastic travelers alike have exited the gate and met their loved ones with tired hugs and kisses. He rubs his pant leg to settle down while eagerly scoping the crowd for her hair or her face. When his wide eyes finally lands on her, the twang in his gut seeps back up to the surface, making Billy helplessly weak in the knees as he throws himself off the chair and into a pose ready for a warm welcome. He flails his arms in the air for her attention and calls out her name with repetition like a nuisance, both careless and unaware of the ruckus he’s stirred in front of all the annoyed families surrounding him. When Y/N had seen it was Billy that was screaming up a storm, her face cracks up into that same shit-eating grin he’s always known and loved then jogs over. The desperate pair reunite in the middle.

“I thought you were dead or something, asswipe! Why didn’t you ever write or call?” Y/N squealed in his arms as he picks her up and spins her around with sloppy grace. Billy bites his lower lip as he puts her down, his hands going down to cup her cheeks with tenderness, as if she were something to be cherished forever, and she is.

“Eh, some things are just better said face-to-face I guess,” he shrugged, giving her cheek a peck before bending over to pick her bags up and swing them effortlessly over his shoulder. As they bicker back and forth like the good old days while making their way to the dark busy parking lot, Billy can say with utter undeniable truth that he genuinely feels all is right with the world again.

—

“I can’t believe I’m even here right now and finally seeing this dump that stole my best friend with my own two eyes. I mean I got like eighty bucks to my name, little to no idea where I’ll stay, but I actually made it!” she hollered, playfully giving the blonde’s ass a painless smack. He reacted with a bashful jump and a laugh, struggling with her bags under pressure. “Can’t wait to see your car again ‘cause man I missed her. Old Martha still runnin’ smooth and pretty, I presume?”

Billy felt breathless as he set her luggage down to the pavement, reaching for his car keys to unlock the trunk before hauling them inside and slamming it closed. He stops to look back at her with a twinkle of mockery in his eye.

“So that’s what you named my car, huh? Martha?” he fact-checks, going over to the passengers side to open it for her, the chivalry he only abided by around her in particular coming back like it never left at all. Like they were still the same confused teenagers first meeting, getting into mischief just to busy their bland, empty agendas. She gives him a half-hearted shrug before explaining.

“Heard it’s good luck to name everything you own, amirite? Plus, you got no right making fun of that name. That’s my aunt’s name, ‘case you forgot stealing all her pot from her sock drawer and smoking it with me at school,” Y/N retorts with a finger pointed at him accusingly. The blonde behind the wheel let’s out a sarcastic ha ha at the memory, starting up the Camaro and backing out as the girl in the passenger’s side messes with the radio. The fond memories have flooded back almost uncontrollably; he can’t wait to make more, even if they only had tonight.

“In our defense that’s a shitty place to hide all that dope, alright? And uh, pretty sure that’s with boats. You name a boat and that gives you good luck. Not a car, you fuckin’ genius.”

Her face scrunches up in thought as if that’s the most mind-boggling thing she’s ever heard, and it ruins Billy with how fucking cluelessly perfect the facial expression is. He watches with intent as she snaps out of it in a hurry. “What you just said makes literally no sense, but I’ll ignore the ridicule and cut to the chase, Bilbo. What is it you’ve been up to without me or the beach? Gone insane yet?” she teased the last part in his ear, putting a hand on his right shoulder and giving it a squeeze. It takes Billy a moment to try and get used to how normal this really is, being touched by her, and he’d nearly forgotten that she’ll give any guy with a heartbeat the exact same treatment. Billy wasn’t an exception, and surely he wasn’t the first guy to get butterflies either.

With a clear of his throat, he throws back on his social mask for stability before shaking his head, the disbelief out in the open within his tone. “Are you fucking kidding, Smalls? ‘Course I did. What good is anywhere or anything when it doesn’t involve you or the goddamn beach?” Billy finished, finding his way onto the main road and putting the airport in his rear view. The driver thinks back two years prior and reminisced on all the adventures they had in Santa Monica before the inevitable happened. He fixed his hair absentmindedly (maybe even a little self-consciously) before reluctantly rambling on under his breath about what’s been ruined since he got taken away from paradise.

“Not a lot goes on ‘round here. Seriously. Place reaks like cowshit, haven’t met anyone worth my time. Max doesn’t seem to think so though, I guess. She’s even made more friends than me. Like... sure, I found this group of jackasses that worship me for knowin’ how to hold my booze, but I haven’t found anything like what we had. Not even close.” Billy swallows, looking back up to the rear view mirror like how he practiced on the way over. It isn’t the same, and he feels too vulnerable saying anything like that out loud with her sitting right fucking there. So he does what any man in the right mind would do, and reacts to his fear, his doubt. He backs down and changes the subject without looking in her direction to see her face. The boy faked a chuckle, an unconvincing one, then keeps his eyes on the road so he doesn’t fucking crash them.

“Tried to liven things up a little, but it’s so goddamn boring, y’know? So uh, anyway, that’s... yeah.”

It starts off sounding so pitiful, then it ends so fucking weak and pathetic. The blonde foolishly hoped and hoped, knowing he could do it, could put everything into English and say it. But he can’t. It gets stuck on his tongue, stuck like a gross aftertaste of something he can’t get rid of. It stings.

He feels his other leg not pressed on the gas physically twitch when the girl beside him puts a palm on his lap to soothe him of imaginary worries. Her eyes were practically scraping to get inside his soul and have it be her own place to call home when he merely glanced at her. It took an enormous amount of will power not giving in to the temptation, but he pulls it off by distracting himself with views of the dark road ahead.

“Yeah, also uh, my old man won’t know you came here for me. I made sure of it. We’ve got all night to catch up,” he ended on a high note, now finding himself grin at all the possibilities awaiting as the girl now has taken to copying him by eyeballing the lifeless scenery out the window that is Hawkins.

After a hasty moment, she hums to acknowledge him and follows it up with a soft, somewhat unsure murmur. “That’s good. Great, actually. I um, I got lots of shit to fill you in on, and I mean a lot, but... anyways, it’s not important. Fuck. Hey, there any places to eat ‘round here? I’m starving,” she finished with glee, deciding to ditch the mood-killing approach at telling him what had happened to her while he was gone.

The blonde hums as he threw a smile at the road, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in excitement, back in the groove. He had just overreacted, that’s all. Their evening didn’t have to depend on what she said back. He could tell her later on and be at peace whether or not she reciprocated his longing for more.

“Alright. Well uh, lucky for you, Smalls, I know just the right place for us. Get ready for the baddest burgers in this shit town, ‘kay?”

Y/N let out a snort after holding her breath a beat too long, shoving her partner’s shoulder before gluing her eyes to the road.

—

“... So then I’m running as fast as I possibly can to get outta there before this fat guy could catch me, he even threatened me with a goddamn gun. Surprisingly he was really fast, too, alright. Like — like The Flash fast. ‘Coulda almost beat ‘em too, but right after I’m rushing to hop this fence, I jump too high and lose my grip. The ground really knows how to whoop my ass,” Billy snorted as he incessantly raved about the shit pot he’d stirred. After trespassing private property not only on a school night, but also at four in the morning. “Oh, also landed right on the money maker,” he smirked, gesturing towards his face with a French fry covered in ketchup between his fingers. “I think I lost a tooth while I was at it, too.”

“Fucking A, Billy! Dude, to be fair, from the sound of it you really got what you deserved,” Y/N pointed out while marveling at his male idiocracy, a goofy scowl plastered on her face as she shook her head back and fourth. She dropped the napkin she’d crumbled up in her palms to her half-empty plate of a classic diner burger and the French fries that Billy had no shame in picking at. He nodded while looking like he was proud of the chaos he’d created, taking his partner’s Cherry-Vanilla Coke and slurping the remaining sip through the straw. He hadn’t had an appropriate moment to give telling her their situation another try, but he’s content with the comfortable familiarity of exchanging both horrific and grotesque stories in each other’s absence. It felt like slipping on an old pair of boots that still fit somehow, still felt good to wear and walk around in, and he wasn’t willing to unlace them or take them off quite yet.

“Yeah yeah, what goes around comes around. I know. Speaking of which, you uh, you got any news to tell me?” the boy asked suspiciously, recalling how their only topic of conversation all night had been solely regarding his whereabouts and only vague answers coming from her. “I know you weren’t up to any good either, Smalls. Pretty hard to deny, what with our reputations and all.” he grinned, pulling a nearly empty pack of Menthols and sticking one on his lip, signaling their waitress for the check with a hand gesture. Y/N’s face twists into something worrisome, brows knitted, lip bit, arms crossed like she wanted to disappear. She was hiding something.

The uneasiness doesn’t rest lightly on the boy’s shoulders at her expression, and thankfully their waitress has great timing and clears their table of their finished goods.

“Can we talk outside, maybe? Or, or just go— just go somewhere where we can —“

Billy scrambled to assure her that her wish was his command, breaking whatever unwelcome tension with a helpful hand on her shoulder. “Of course, Smalls. You don’t know where you’re staying tonight, right?”

A watery smile spreads on her small face, a slight shake of the head that says no, I’ve had no idea where the fuck to stay every night for months, dipshit.

“Look, I have a plan for you, okay? Got you money for a room at this motel not very far, I’ll take care of you.” he swore, unzipping his jacket and covering her back with it as the frosty air nipped their cheeks on the way outside. The moon glowed in the sky, acting like a night light for them as they approached Old Martha, cranking the heat in as soon as they were both safe inside.

The pair sit in silence, the boy unaware of what’s changed or made her stiffen up; the girl unaware of how she’ll confess something that only a select few know and have already judged.

“Now what— no, who the hell is it that made you this upset, huh?” he threatens to the unknown source of his best friend’s pain, already getting revved up to fly back home and settle this out with his fists. Their destinated motel only a mile away and seatbelts not even fastened.

“I’ve — I’ve been keeping something from you.”

Billy blinks stupidly and throws his hands off the steering wheel and in the air. Could this be it? Could it mean the same thing as him keeping something from her? Nothing is getting answered fast enough, and he’s so sick of waiting. “Okay? And what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N chews her bottom lip and rests her elbow on the door, her palm now gathering the dramatic beads of sweat from her forehead. “It means I’ve got a reputation; you know, I know, the whole fucking population of Santa Monica knows, Billy! You don’t need to act dumb, okay, it isn’t cute anymore.”

The driver squints in utter bewilderment, finally pushing the brake with impatience, making them bounce forward at the sudden stop. The Camaro sits outside the motel as droplets of rain grow heavier and louder as it pecks on the windows. It could almost drown out the feeling of intensity in the small space.

The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose like an irritated diva, pairing that with a seemingly apathetic eye roll. “I was only kidding back there about that shit. You know I don’t believe that nonsense about you... sleepin’ around or whatever, okay. I only believe you. I trust your word over those assholes and their tendency of spreading fucked up lies about any girl in school, ‘kay?”

Y/N felt on the brink of a drastic explosion, going as far as to open the window and sticking her head outside to feel the raindrops pool around her face, tickling her with its’ gentleness.

“Hey, get your head back in here. You’re gonna catch a cold, and then you’ll have to fly back home sick tomorrow, alright, so could we just cut the charade and talk like adults—” Billy’s reprimand was interrupted by Y/N’s surprising outburst.

“I don’t have a home anymore!” she screeched, yanking her head back inside and flipping her wet hair out of her face before crossing her arms stubbornly. “It was taken away from me. Got kicked out ‘cause of my reputation,” she trailed off as he turned his head to the side in concern mixed with confusion, his jaw wide enough to catch flies. Before spitting another useless question at her, he swallowed with unstoppable nerve and cautiously reached over to her door and roll the window back up.

“Smalls, I’m — I’m fucking sorry. So sorry. But right now all’s I wanna do is get you nice and dry. Cozy too, and in our own space with no one to bother us or... or even kick us out. I’m gonna get your bags, we’ll go fetch a room, and then continue this by then, okay?” he whispered, finding his fingers had gotten wet while delicately petting her damp locks. Her lips wiggled like she was gonna blow into tears any second, and he really hated the sight, but whoever was responsible in making her homeless was gonna be sorry they ever caused someone as close to Billy as she was so much pain.

The rain came down and soaked the blonde’s hair, color fading to a chestnut brown under the weather as he fumbled with his keys to get into the trunk as fast as possible. Her bags weren’t the lightest, but it must’ve been nearly all her belongings if she didn’t have a home anymore. They rested like rocks on his back and in his grasp as he gave Y/N the signal to hurry out as to not get any more drenched than her face had already become. Billy spits on the pavement before counting down from three on his fingers, and as soon as he got to one she was out and flailing in the rain with him, both eager to get warmth and shelter. Some giggles were even shared as they cringed feeling their clothes sticking to their bodies before finally making it inside.

The guy behind the counter wasn’t amused by their boisterous entrance, but they couldn’t find it in them to feel bad. After getting themselves a room key, they forced themselves to put a hault on their dispute for now, just like pressing the pause button on a TV remote; Billy rubbing her lower back in the elevator once he’d set her luggage down and Y/N leaning further into him as tears threatened to wilt out of her. Finding room 1408 thankfully wasn’t like a game of Where’s Waldo, and they’d both gotten comfortable quickly in the tidy space. The boy had set her things down as she fled to the restroom. He’d taken to counting all the shapes he could make out on the tacky wallpaper and got stopped at number fifty-eight. Y/N emerged from the bathroom much drier yet back in a similar state as before; frightened and uncomfortable. Taking action, he threw himself off the King sized bed and took her into his embrace.

“You’re safe with me, you do realize that, right?” he muttered, trying his hardest to keep it together like the broken girl in his arms. She trembled in a way that said she didn’t know she was safe, like she still felt wrong. In one swift movement, she shoved him backward and left him stumbling in ignorance and hurt, barely giving him a warning before she finally snapped.

“It’s true what those boys said about me, what I did with them. You would’ve known that by now if you had a goddamn brain instead of this... this giant heart of a puppy,” she cradled her head in guilt and shame for everything coming from her mouth, stepping back and avoiding his eyes all together. “I slept with the basketball team, the football team, even the fucking tennis club! You name it, I’ve fucked it. You know what’s crazy about this, other than the amount?” she asked rhetorically, her voice winding down to a broken whisper.

Billy feels his eyes well up and he doesn’t put energy into stopping it. There are veins bulging, flaming up in places he hadn’t even known he had. He recalls all the side eyed looks from the boys while he walked down the halls with her, when he’d ditch to smoke her aunt’s dope with her, or in class laughing with her. They weren’t ogling him because they thought they’d be a cute couple. They were laughing at him in silence because he was whipped for Santa Monica’s school skank.

“I don’t regret all of it; well, all but one. You, you remember Chris Hooker, he was your runner up? Chris fucking idolized you, Billy. He wanted to be like you so bad that... he thought one way of being like you was to get with me. And I let him after you left, I was so lonely that I’d do just about anything to cover up the shitstorm of losing you; and if that meant fucking this guy that always dressed like you and acted like you all the time— then so be it.” Y/N shrugged, trying to wipe the endless waterfall of tears as she watched Billy break too.

“You... you didn’t—“ he tried to deny, shaking his head and mimicking her by cradling his head in his hands as he walked in circles back and fourth, not believing anything he’s hearing. She sniffled and rubbed her nose with her sleeve before coming closer to him, looking him in the eye the first time since her confession begun.

“It happened, and I’ve never been this sorry about anything in my life, Billy. In fact, I even said sorry to him, ‘cause I couldn’t take care of it or even myself after he knocked me up and turned my life into this, this total hellhole—“

“You got kicked out because they found out,” Billy mumbles when he came to the realization, staring as if he were hypnotized by the painting of an angel hung up on the wall behind her. “They found out that you got pregnant, then you got rid of it... so they ended up punishing you.”

Y/N clung to him tighter before confirming with an uneasy nod, a sob escaping and tearing through her as she got red.

“I never named it, so I guess it didn’t bring good luck, remember?” she reminded him of their previous conversation when she first landed, stroking his arms up and down with tenderness. “You um, you missed a part of the story actually, a really important one.”

The blonde recoiled from his partner and scrubbed his arms in hysteria, feeling hopeless and weak and like all his doubt had fed to his brain was right. He wasn’t an exception. He wasn’t the good guy, he was just another guy going nuts for the same girl everybody else in their entire class ever did.

“Stop it! Stop hurting yourself, Billy, this is my fault. I should’ve told you sooner that—“

“What? What’s left to say now?”

“That I—“

”WHAT?” his fists were clenched and thick at his sides, the jealousy and the disgust overtaking him and fueling a fire that hadn’t started over night.

“That I love you!” she had shouted, both of them spiraling out of the devastating tornado of abandonment and lies, now joining together in the middle; mirroring their warm welcome at the airport just hours before. Billy’s fingers shoved her by her hips so that they were skin-to-skin as he finally went in for the kiss all the guys back home already knew but he himself had never gotten to experience. They were both gone, desperate for their touches and their actions to say everything they’d wanted to say. The apologies, the love, the hurt. She tasted lovely on his tongue, and he waited for the need to breathe to become nearly unbearable before even thinking of pulling away. Their mouths made a smacking sound as their lips left eachothers, making Billy let out a helpless, weak in the knees sounding moan.

“And to finish the missing part, um... I can’t keep kissing random strangers pretending that they’re you,” she whispers in his ear, bashfully coming back down from her tippy-toes right after giving a playful nibble to his ear and a warm kiss on the cheek. Billy thinks back to his alone time talking in the mirror, all the things he said and wrote down, practiced for this very moment. Like clockwork, he spouts the rehearsed lines out that felt like daggers holding inside.

“Smalls... since I’ve been gone, ah... all’s I’ve done is nearly nothing worth my time except, only except thinking of you when I feel like everything is a lot. And also like everything was never really enough. It’s like one of the only things I feel like has meaning to it for once. ‘Cause you get me, I get you. No one ever surprises me unless you do. And I fucking love you even more, Y/N, and I’d like to make you forget. Forget about those dicks, forget about your parents. You’re with me from here on out, you understand? Smalls?” he opens his eyes to see her doing that thing again, where she scrapes into his soul and nests inside, makes it a home for herself. It makes him melt in all the right and wrong ways imaginable.

“I understand.”

[thetailorofenbizaka]

Chapter 4–The Tale of the Mermaid; Scene 2

The Tailor of Enbizaka, pages 245-254

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The boat had landed at the reef.

The woman had spoken to the mermaid after getting off the boat and onto a nearby rock.

She was an acquaintance of the mermaid.

This was a reunion of several hundred years. But it was also one where they had both completely transformed from how they’d been from the old days.

Sitting on the rock, the mermaid looked up at the woman and returned the greeting. “Good day…What would you prefer that I call you, as you are now?”

“Call me whatever you like.”

“Elluka...Irina...Eve...Or ‘Ma’. –Although the one most fitting to my mind would of course be ‘Levia’.”

One of the twin gods, “Levia”.

That was one of the constituent spirits that currently comprised Elluka Ma Clockworker.

She was brought into being by the amalgamation of several different personalities. Their collective name was “Ma”, and “Ma” had inherited the memory of all of them combined.

So if the mermaid called her “Levia”, that wasn’t necessarily wrong.

“’Levia’, huh?...You’re the only one around on the ground world who calls me by that name anymore.”

“Hmhm. Hasn’t there been lately? Someone quite close by, in fact.”

“You mean Behemo? I haven’t said a single word to him, and he hasn’t made any attempt to speak to me. We’ve just passed each other by as fellow strangers. So I don’t know why he’s shown up down here, and it doesn’t matter to me. It’d be a different story if he had tried to get in my way, but he’s made no show of that.”

“What amicable twins you are.”

“—Behemo had gotten his hands on the golden key ‘Grim the End’. Has it had no effect on you?”

The mermaid lightly laughed, and then shook her tail fin a little bit. “I’m not so insubstantial as all that. …Unlike the one in the scissors that you’ve got on you.”

“As I thought, the one who sealed Kagura inside these scissors—was you.”

The mermaid laughed again. “Those two scissors—they were once twin blades. They were remade into their current form by a single woman almost three hundred years ago.”

“…Chartette Langley. The woman who went by ‘Saruteito’ in this country. Back then she also sealed them so that the ‘Demon of Deadly Sin’ could not make use of its power. Thanks that, I—both Elluka and Irina—was unable to find them, and they slipped from my grasp.”

“The only ones who knew that the ‘Twin Swords of Levianta’ were changed into ‘Two Scissors’ was Chartette herself and the man known as Okuto Gaou. Having been entrusted with the scissors from Chartette, Gaou sealed them in a cave in Onigashima, and then wouldn’t even show the scissors to his relatives.”

“I suppose that’s why both Gaou and Chartette’s descendants were convinced that they were still in the form of blades. Even I didn’t realize the truth until recently—However.”

There Elluka straightened her posture and continued to speak.

“Several decades earlier, I was finally able to detect your presence in Jakoku. I didn’t yet know the reason for that, but now I do. ...That was when you imprisoned Kagura inside the scissors, and slipped out of them in her place. By stealing Kagura’s body you obtained a form in the living world—Isn’t that right, Demon of Envy!”

“You’re not the only one who can use the ‘Swap Technique’, eh Levia?”

“I guess so. Of course, you were the one who taught it to me in the first place.”

Waves beat against the rock, and the spray fell over the two.

They continued speaking, neither paying it any mind.

“Demon of Envy—why did you go as far as stealing Kagura’s body to gain a human form? You went for centuries staying obediently in place, after all.”

“...Is a demon not allowed to fall in love with a human man?”

“You can’t be serious…You wanted to be married to Sudou Nagare…just for that reason alone—”

There the mermaid began to laugh loudly than before.

“Ha ha ha. It’s true. Have some complaint?”

“You…sex-obsessed slut…You haven’t changed.”

“Okuto Kagura had the most ideal features as my new body. Beauty and high magical attainment—I stole her body, eloped with Nagare, and started to live a new life as ‘Sudou Kagura’.”

“And so...you gave birth to Kayo. She wasn’t a Deadly Sin Contractor—she was just the daughter of a demon.”

This time the mermaid sighed dejectedly. “Taking into account all of your failures thus far I have to say that you’re pretty incompetent, Levia. To think that you didn’t realize that fact until today, despite having swapped bodies with Kayo. …Though a demon’s elementary features reside in the soul. So I suppose it’s understandable that you wouldn’t pick up on it just by having gained Kayo’s body.”

“Physically speaking Kayo was the daughter of the real Kagura…In other words, a normal human. But as she had inherited the elementary features of a demon from you, she was able to display superhuman abilities.”

At that point, she could hear a voice speak up from the scissors she’d stowed in her robe.

Err…In that case, how did Kayo come to be able to have prophetic dreams?

To that, Elluka replied, “’Purple Dreams’ are a special exception. That ability lies not in the spirit, but in the body. Behemo would know more on that, but—Well, there’s no point in trying to ask someone who’s not here right now.”

While the two of them were talking, at some point a change had started occurring in the mermaid’s body.

Her lower half was losing its fish tail and fins and was changing into human legs like the kind Elluka had.

“You two seem to be on good terms,” the mermaid—the Demon of Envy teased Elluka and Kagura.

“I don’t know if I’d say that. But at the very least we seem to be in agreement that we loathe you—My my, so you can change into a normal human form.”

“Naturally. I lived in this body for sixteen years as Sudou Kagura, after all.”

“…Why did you leave Kayo and turn into a mermaid?”

“I wish I’d disappeared a lot sooner, really. At that point in time Nagare had died, and I’d already lost interest in the world of humans. But I had wanted to watch over my daughter…over Kayo long enough to see her wedding at least.”

Elluka gnashed her teeth.

“—Are you trying to tell me you had some outpouring of parental affection? Hmph, there’s no way I’d believe that.”

“People…can change, Levia.”

“Silence. You’re not even a person right now but a demon…And I have one more question regarding Kayo.”

“You still love to question people, don’t you Levia. That way you always follow up on everything is very good of you.”

“Why did you direct Kokutan-douji—Allen—to go to Kayo?”

“Isn’t it obvious? So he wouldn’t meet with his other half. If I left him to his own devices, he would eventually recall his purpose and go looking for her. Before that could happen I gave him Kayo as a replacement goal. …Though I couldn’t have imagined that his twin was living nearby in Enbizaka as well. When I realized that, I’m sure you can imagine it gave me a cold sweat.”

“…Just like I thought. You don’t have any parental feelings at all. You were just using Kayo as a tool!”

Elluka jumped down from the rock she was standing on and drew closer to the Demon of Envy.

“…I had a different hope too. That Allen—this boy who is an ‘Irregular’—might save Kayo for me. On that I was half wrong, and half right. For, while he may have been unable to save Kayo from destruction, he did at least manage to save her heart, if only a little.”

“And what was your reason for preventing Allen and Riliane’s reunion? …Though I guess I don’t need to ask you that.”

“Yes…I want to enjoy my life in this world a little bit longer. I’d rather that it not end.”

Elluka held aloft the scissors that she had taken out, aimed at the demon as she smiled.

“Unfortunately, your enjoyable life ends here. You’re going to go back inside these scissors again.”

“…Well, I figured it would come to this. I imagine that I don’t have a chance of winning if I resist.”

“If you think so, then get inside these quickly.”

“—I’ll say just one last thing. Even if I got back inside them, I have no intention of serving you at all. From now on I will fall into an eternal sleep. Until the day of the ending, which is not far off now—"

“The ‘Demon of Envy’, Rahab Barisol. You who was once an underling of Levia, and her mother. –I command you by the name of ‘Ma’! Return to this vessel!”

In that moment, both the scissors and the demon’s body shined.

And then the demon was quietly sucked into the scissors.

“…Did that go alright?” Elluka looked up at an empty space above her head, holding the scissors in her hand. “Kagura-san. Are you there?”

When she did, Kagura’s voice replied back to her, …Yes. I’ve been safely let out of the scissors. By swapping with the demon.

“I see…Now that I think on it, there was no need to suck her body into the scissors alongside her. If we still had it I could restore your soul to it again.”

I’m sure you had no intentions of doing that from the beginning. …I don’t mind. This whole time I’ve always thought of myself as being dead already, you see.

“Thank goodness for that. Well, feel free to wander a bit as a spirit. During that time I’m sure someone from the Heavenly Yard will—”

“In that case, would you like to come with me, Kagura-san?”

Someone spoke up from behind Elluka.

“Who’s there!?” When she turned around, she saw that at some point—Behemo had appeared. “Since when were you—”

Behemo ignored her and spoke up to the area above her head.

“I was just about to head back to the Heavenly Yard myself. If you like, I can take you with me.”

Sigh…Bufuko-san…Just who are you, really?

“Me? I’m—a god.”

The Heavenly Yard…That would be paradise, wouldn’t it? If you say you’ll guide me then I’ve no reason to refuse you, but—

“Yeah? Well then, let’s get going.”

Behemo’s body floated into the air.

He shifted to the area above Elluka, and then made a gesture as though he was holding someone in his arms—

Then he vigorously flew off in the direction of Onigashima.

Left all alone, Elluka stood there with a put-out expression on her face.

“That jackass…Completely ignoring me as he did all that…”

And then her eyes fell upon the scissors she was carrying.

“…Well, I guess I’ve achieved my goal for now.”

She then looked towards the ship that was anchored at the port at Onigashima.

“It’ll be time to set sail soon. I suppose I’ll return home too.”

Elluka climbed into her small boat and used her magic to get it moving.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[sassy-postal-shipper]

Love Will Tear Us Apart - 2/12 - Did You Know?

Ship: Roman (Creativity)/Remus (Intrusive Thoughts)

Summary: Remus is often left alone and is wishing for someone to come be with him. He is only truly close to his brother Roman. He starts getting letters from a mysterious stranger, who professes love to him. The letters say many details that emphasize Remus’ beauty, but Remus starts thinking that the stranger wants Roman. As much as Remus wants to be in love, he wants to be with Roman just as much.What is the Duke to do?

Rating: M/Explicit

AO3 link if Tumblr doesn’t work

Previous - Next

Warnings: Evelyn Evelyn AU, Shapeshifting, Imagination, Yandere, Everyone is Yandere, Developed before POF, Animal Motifs, Every Side has an Animal

Love Will Tear Us Apart - Chapter 2 - Did You Know?

If there had been a time when they had been together, when they had been one person, neither body of Creativity could remember. They knew that, logically, there had been a time when Creativity had existed as one, what with the terms “good” and “bad” now separating them at the root of their lives.

That was what the Shield had said before he had disappeared into nothingness, at least nothing that they could recognize.

There were times when they wanted to go back to how they used to be, but they both remembered that they were so lonely. They could remember their hands - only two! - shaping the canvas and clay of Imagination into a fine castle, their Dream, and Thomas had just been blooming into a creative force in the world.

They could remember what happened afterward, when they split apart and they became Two. Remus’s hair had not yet turned white, and Roman’s voice had yet to gain the royal timbre that it had when Thomas was older.

That’s when Loneliness became familiar.

While Thomas was able to perform with Roman guiding him, Remus was set to take some control over Thomas’ dreams when the world was asleep. Remus had almost complete reign over dreams. There were nonsensical trails that Thomas would go down, eventually getting trapped or becoming too frightened. Remus was attentive, going to find Thomas and showing him how to beat all the traps that Remus had inadvertently created while letting himself go freely while his brother was busy during the day.

Thomas didn’t always lean into him, but when Thomas would relax, he would ask Remus for a piggy-back ride. If Remus would tell the truth without embellishing it with unnecessary details, he would tell Roman of how wonderfully delightful it was to have the sensation of Thomas’ little puffs of breath on the back of his neck, little arms loose and limp around his neck.

Thomas was beauty, wonder, light, and every wonderful sensation that Remus had been able to feel. The feel of stepping onto sunlit grass were Thomas’ fingertips that occasionally played with Remus’ hair before he went to sleep. Remus would do anything for him - eviscerate himself, kill the boy down the road who ripped up one of Thomas and Roman’s pictures, make him sing something inappropriate as long as he could until he got what he wanted.

However, Thomas began to grow further away from Remus. Instead of Thomas finding beauty in what others could find horrifying, knowing that it was better to steer away from certain things than just avoid it at all, Thomas pushed Remus away. He no longer dared to go down the paths that Remus had worked on. He would no longer touch the delicate horrors that Remus had bled over to create visions of Fear that Thomas could grow from.

The Guard had begun to lead Thomas away from the hidden crevices in the Imagination, multiple eyes that were vigilant and wary. When Care began to push Remus back, to make sure that Thomas and Roman sat at the front of the Imagination’s garden, Roman pulled him to sit next to Thomas. They both loved him; why would Remus stay away.

It was different when Thomas was alone, though.

Alone, and only with the Guard, Thomas always ran away now whenever he sensed Remus near, and gone was the boy precious child sunshine sweetling bubbly beauty that was the only other creature aside from Roman that Remus had loved.

Roman would come to comfort him at night, the gentle dim Sunlight that Remus would reflect back to his brother in measured bursts of Moonlight. He would show Remus everything that Thomas did that day, and even Remus’ influence couldn’t be ignored.

Thomas could imagine dragons and spiders, scary snakes and evil witches. Oh! - even if all of Remus’ influence was bad, Thomas was enjoying himself and making new things in the Imagination; and because of this, Remus never minded that Thomas found him scary or bad, as long as he was able to be helpful to his boy. Remus still saved Thomas from nightmares, after all.

Sometimes, there were tales among the Sides and the Others of an eclipse, where for an instant, the Creativity-that-was would return, and Thomas would be in awe. Usually at night, because the world couldn’t witness it, but Remus and Roman would disappear, and the King would return, ready to rule over his Kingdom within Imagination, and Loneliness no longer existed.

Remus never remembered those times, though.

Roman couldn’t remember them either or so Remus recalled him saying , and as Thomas grew, Remus was banished further into the darkness of Imagination, Roman having to travel further every night to make sure his brother was doing well.

They didn’t know how much time had passed; the Imagination was whimsical when it came to time, and they didn’t always have a way to keep track of time here and in Thomas’ world.

What they did know was that the eclipses were far and few, and Remus was getting lost in the Loneliness that came with the Imagination, a sense of disconnect that was only getting worse in Remus, no matter how many stories Roman told to keep away the awful feelings.

On this night, Remus was waiting for his brother. The stars lit up the beaten path that had grown again by feet, meters, lengths, or fathoms and that would bring Roman back to him.

How long had they existed? Roman had become a Prince to rule over their kingdom in Imagination well, devoted to their people and always ready to answer the call to adventure that Imagination would create at Thomas’ will or even its own volition. The Creativity was a volatile and unpredictable thing; it had given life to Roman and Remus both, after all.

Remus had become a ruler without responsibility. Remus had become a Duke who could attend to all the small things that Roman could not see. Remus had a much more in-depth insight into the Little People’s lives, one that Roman couldn’t envision; those were the limitations of Creativity on a grander scale, but Remus was in charge of nitty-gritty details that often would break a story without Suspension of Disbelief.

“No hair to climb, but nevertheless the sight granted to me, sublime~”

Remus sat up, spying his brother in the moonlight. Roman stared back at him from the doorway, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders like one of their capes. Roman waved to the bed, and Remus obeyed as he always did when he had his usual stint of nightmares and Loneliness. As Roman came close, the scent of cinnamon and sugar accompanying him with the noxious scent of roses, Remus felt his body tremble, his skin undergoing a chill that made goose-flesh creep and take over his flesh.

“Come.”

“I will.”

Roman climbed into bed, the glide of their clothed legs smooth and warm. The blanket around his shoulders was a fire over Remus’ body, warm and all-encompassing.

“That was awful.”

“It’s late and I’m tired. I don’t mind.”

They settled onto each other. Remus moved his legs like clockwork, Roman letting one leg of his fall between Remus’ legs and the other out to trap one of Remus’ legs between his own. Roman rested his head over where a human heart would be if they were human; instead, the grinding sound of a ratchet was heard, clicking and ticking in a way that made Roman shudder.

“Scared?”

“You’re here. Why would I be scared?”

Roman sighed as Remus threaded his fingers through the Prince’s hair. Soft and silky, clean and smooth - these were the sensations that Remus associated with Roman’s energy and power. Roman was powerful and careful, every motion precise and easy.

Remus could destroy the world under his fingers just with a simple wave of his hand, destroying anything he would want to create. Roman would disagree, his own ticking heart steadfast in his chest.

“When did we meet last?”

“That doesn’t matter, really…”

No, it didn’t.

Being a part of Creativity was amazing. Roman had his Kingdom. ‘Twas a metropolis that was interwoven into the fringes of Remus’ Domain. Both areas had inspiration from the gallantry of King Arthur’s tales, the houses and kingdoms of wisdom of fictional Arabia (Agrabah not being a subtle influence), and even the futuristic realms influenced by Japanese films and anime. There was always something to gain their interest; if not, they could just Create it!

There was an order maintained, as the Imagination populated itself with villagers, city-goers, and those who maintained their position in the Imagination by performing tasks that Thomas had imagined essential in any fantasy setting, classic or unorthodox. All of the characters that Thomas had created for his videos and Vines were here as well. Remy and Emil even lived in the area of the metropolis that was more modern when compared to the rest of the fantasy world.

Magicians, law-men, villains, and healers - there was nothing that the Imagination didn’t offer!

Roman and Remus would find each other at night, ready to Create dreams that Thomas could indulge in, and now that Thomas was an adult and he had learnt of Remus, they could have even more freedom!

Thomas didn’t enjoy everything that Remus Created, but Thomas would be loath to say that he hated some of the dreams that came at night. Ghostly hands that worshiped his body and lips that sang  litanies to Thomas, because Thomas had no lover there to press himself against; oh, Remus had fun Creating dashing rogues and handsome princes that he could entice into his bed, ones that would worship the darker side of Creativity!

Roman would observe occasionally, a cursory glance from the Passionate light of Creativity. Sometimes, Roman would send someone to Remus, letting his brother indulge in a lover that was something else. Roman never engaged in those types of fantasies, ones that were rooted only in the flesh. Roman appreciated the beauty but he never indulged in the dreams; he was waiting for Thomas to find someone, and they would all be happy then.

Surely, when they wouldn’t have to sleep alone again...

As Remus settled to rest with Roman, he listened to Roman talk about how cross he was.

“What?”

“A morning-star. To the head!” Roman pouted, pressing his pursed lips to Remus’ forehead. It was a closed-off kiss, and it didn’t matter; Roman had never closed off his heart to Remus though he had certainly earned the right to close Remus off in the past .

“But I wanted to surprise you!”

“... Did it have to hurt like that?” Roman pulled away, looking at Remus’ eyes. They were looking for something that Remus didn’t know if he could even emote! Before Remus could argue, Roman pressed him down into the mattress.

Remus might be cursed with hard-hitting truths as a large part of his speech, but his body enjoyed the softness of a down-filled mattress. It was on top of the much firmer, much more modern mattress that Mom had gotten Thomas too many years ago to matter, but it let Roman push Remus into the plush without suffering the harshness underneath. Even as Roman scowled down at him, Remus bit his lip to keep from moaning at the softness beneath him.

“You need to let Thomas call you from now on.”

Remus blinked up at his brother. “Do you think he will?”

He tried not to sound excited by the idea that Thomas his boy his light his love his very God that commanded and demanded Remus into being back when the boy didn’t realize the exceptional potential that he had hidden away in that little body would actually ask for Remus’s input, but Roman saw right through him. Roman smiled down at the lesser-titled brother that was filthy disgusting dull evil and pressed a kiss to the center of Remus’ forehead.

“Of course he will, my dear. You know,” Roman began, settling down to rest on Remus’ chest, “he’s nervous, but he’s a bit more excited now. I told him that you made him have those… more sultry dreams, and he is intrigued! It’ll be wonderful, dear, I promise you!”

With that, Roman settled into the wondrous world of sleep, body limp and chthonic with the ethereal light of a yellow star still burning bright from him. It dared to harm Remus, but Remus had never been averse to pain.

Oh, Remus could smell Roman’s hair. It smelt nauseatingly disgusting; for sunshine and butterflies, the blood of a freshly conquered foe, and the scent of begonias. Remus, on the nights when he would lay on Roman’s chest, would be burning brighter than the corona of the eclipse. His hands would wander down, the tentacles that his body had stroking the animalistic features that Roman couldn’t hide while he was asleep, dreaming. It was the one time that Remus had ever entertained the notion that Roman could be a fraction of a monster like he was. It was everything that Remus could ever desire from his brother.

Thomas would get rest tonight, especially after Remus’ fantasies had gone awry the night before. He didn’t know why they wandered down that path, but Remus was never one to look away from the prospect of any kind of entertainment.

Roman’s arms tightened around Remus’ waist, the Prince humming some strange tune as Remus fell into sleep as well.

[i-see-thevision]

Phoenix

Part of ‘Heaven or Hell’ my Stray Kids Demon/Angel!au Series

Name: Lee Felix

Status: Fallen Angel

Special Abilities: Pyrokinesis

Summary: As a Guardian Angel, Felix was expected to protect his assigned human. But, what happens when he thinks he was assigned the wrong human? 

Felix found out the hard way.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: Some Violence; Brief Mentions of Domestic Abuse; General Angstiness

A/N: A little different, lots of flashbacks. Had a fun angsty time writing it tho.

• • •

The August summer was beyond hot. The temperature was almost at 100, peaking at a blistering 98 degrees. It was sweat inducing the moment anyone stepped outside. And the lack of a breeze only made the unwavering heat worse.

Felix stood beside a bus stop. Not waiting for a bus, simply maintaining a nonchalant, ‘just another stranger’ vibe while keeping his eyes on you. Making sure you were safe and out of harm’s way. He silently tisked himself, but continued nonetheless.

He watched as you walked hand in hand with your boyfriend. A bright smile graced your lips, highlighting your beautiful features. Your hair fell against your back, flowing occasionally by the gust of wind that seemed to only blow for you. 

The heat seemed to not affect you, at all. If anything, you seemed to be thriving in it. You couldn’t have looked more at peace, he thought. Then, his gaze shifted to the one holding your hand, your boyfriend...

Felix’s assigned human.

Park Jae Jin. The boy Felix was supposed to be protecting. But ever since said boy began acting less worthy of a Guardian Angel, Felix has been turning his attention to you, his girlfriend. 

You seemed to be the exact opposite of how his human had be acting lately. You were kind hearted, generous, caring, overflowing with cuteness. Felix wonders daily why you don’t have a Guardian Angel since you clearly have a pure heart. He wonders sometimes if maybe there was a mistake in Heaven and you were supposed to be his assigned human and not your boyfriend. 

‘A mistake in Heaven’ Felix chuckles at his own words. Like anyone in Heaven would even admit to that if there was. 

Felix sighed. A newfound action that seemed to be occurring more and more lately. 

His human’s disposition only seemed to decline further as the days went on. He started to push you around a little and Felix couldn’t stand it. However, you were not the one Felix was supposed to be protecting so, in accordance to the Guardian’s rules, he was refraining from stepping in. But soon the pushing around turned into something much, much more sinister. Jaejin went from yelling at you and calling you horrendous names to physically shutting you up with a slap one night. 

And Felix snapped.

He shifted to Heaven the exact moment it happened and demanded he be reassigned to protect you. When God denied his request, Felix argued that it was absolutely ridiculous that Park Jae Jin was given a Guardian Angel since he was an abusive asshole and most definitely did not have a ‘pure heart.’ 

He argued that God was wrong, and that did not fly well with the very being that created him.

The argument lasted only a few more sentences before Felix’s wings were taken from him and he was cast out of Heaven, permanently. 

Felix shot up in his bed. It took him a few seconds to blink through the darkness of his bedroom. He could hear his breathing though, it was heavy. He was sweating, out of anxiety, not heat. It was the middle of December, it wasn't even hot anyways. 

He threw his legs over the edge of his bed and took a couple deep breaths before he stood up. Slipping his slippers on, he made his way to the kitchen, switching all the lights on in his wake. 

He pulled a mug from one of the cabinets, filling in with water. He wrapped both hands around the mug and watched as the water came to a boil. Unfazed by the miraculous action, he grabbed a peppermint tea bag and placed it in the water. 

He let his thoughts reel once more while the tea steeped. 

“I should find her.” Felix said to himself. “I should find her and answer the questions she most definitely has.” He sighed, holding his head in his hands. 

He let silence come over him once more, willing the voice in his head away. Willing his heart to make any sense. He knew what the problem was, that was for sure. He knew where his feelings laid, knew who they were so strong towards. 

Knew who his heart belonged to.

He walked over to the living room, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around himself. It was more for the comfort factor than to keep warm. The cold was the least of his worries, at the moment.

He walked back into the kitchen, grabbing his mug and taking a sip of the peppermint tea inside. He let his eyes fall shut as the warm liquid slid down his throat. He wished that all the events that happened that day would just vanish from his memory. That way he wouldn't be conflicted right now. That way he would be able to sleep peacefully at night. 

Another sigh. Felix’s elbows rested against the island counter in his kitchen, his posture slumped over in one of exhaustion. Despite his sleep deprived mind, he recalls the events of that fateful day just last week...

Felix had been on earth for nearly two months now. Two months of making sure you were safe. After being banished to Earth, Felix made it his mission to protect you regardless if he was a Guardian anymore or not. Park Jae Jin no longer had a Guardian and he was no longer Felix’s to look after. So naturally, his attention shifted to you.

Despite not being a Guardian anymore, Felix still didn't want to show himself to you. All that would do is confuse you and probably add to anxieties you were already harboring internally. 

So from a distance, Felix kept his eyes on you. He intervened subtly when Jaejin would get a little rough with you. One time, Felix set the very edge of your ‘oh so loving’ boyfriend’s sweatshirt on fire to stop him from tugging on your wrist so hard. It worked beautifully, to say the least.

It was through little things like this that Felix protected you. Though, the thought of just setting your boyfriend’s house on fire while he was sleeping and you weren't there crossed his mind more times than Felix would like to admit. 

What? It would solve all your problems AND throw God a big ol’ fuck you.

Nonetheless, Felix never set your boyfriend’s house on fire. He was better than that. He was trained as a Guardian Angel for crying out loud, that training doesn't exactly leave you in a couple months. 

But one night, while Felix was sitting on your fire escape after feeling particularly uneasy about your boyfriend being there, he finally snapped.

He had felt weird all day, something in him changing. Like his good boy Angel mindset was finally fading. And on top of that, he felt a strange vibe coming from your boyfriend. Once of malicious intent. 

He had stayed close in the distance to you guys all day, making sure you weren't in danger from anything. Specifically from Jaejin. 

And the day was pretty uneventful, other than the particularly harsh words that Jaejin spat after you accidentally bumped into him. But that was entirely your boyfriend’s fault. 

It wasn't until he followed you guys back to your apartment that he felt that strange vibe coming from your boyfriend. Something was off, something wasn't sitting well with him and he could feel it. It was tugging at him like a child wanting attention, or like a puppy begging for a treat. 

Felix sat on your fire escape, completely on edge, waiting for something to go wrong while he was there. 

And boy, did something go wrong.

Shattering the silence Felix sat in, your blood curdling scream echoed through the air. Not even thinking about the consequences, Felix jumped off the fire escape and into the nearest window. Landing on the carpet of, presumably, your  dark bedroom. He shot out of the bedroom, in the direction of your please and whimpers. 

As soon as Felix reached the kitchen, the sight before him made his blood boil. 

There you sat, on the kitchen tiles, your back up against the wall. Above you stood Jaejin, holding a knife and threatening your life before Felix’s very eyes. Tears were streaming down your face and little sobs were leaving your lips. A bruise was clearly forming under your left eye and it looked like your lip was busted. Felix was infuriated.

“HEY!” He thundered, catching both your’s and Jaejin’s attention. “You think it’s funny to threaten the life of your girlfriend?”

Felix wasted no time in forming a ball of flames in his palm, eliciting Jaejin to drop the knife he was threatening you with. Fear now evident behind his eyes.

“Who the hell are you?” Jaejin spat, but it was clear he was trembling. 

“The guy who’s gonna stop you from abusing your girlfriend.” Felix seethed, scarily calm before throwing the ball of flames in your boyfriend’s direction. Just as the flames burned the sensitive skin of his face, Felix stepped forward and twisted your boyfriend’s arm behind his back, slamming his face down against the kitchen counter. 

“If I ever see you with her again, I will end your life myself.” Felix whispered harshly against his ear. “Understood?” Jaejin didn't answer. 

‘Stubborn as always.’ Felix thought. So he added a little incentive, heating up the hand that was holding his wrist until Jaejin couldn’t take it. 

Jaejin nodded his head as a whimper left his lips. A satisfied smirk graced Felix’s lips and he reluctantly let go of him. Like clockwork your boyfriend sprung up, holding his wrist, and sprinted out of your apartment that instant.

Felix turned his attention to you, once the door clicked shut. 

“Are you okay?” He knelt down to your level, his voice much softer now, his gaze as well.

You couldn’t speak, too much was happening and your head was spinning. You could feel yourself on the brink of hyperventilation. 

“I know you’re probably confused out of your mind right now, but I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” Felix tried to comfort, not wanting to see you so broken. 

You managed a nod, your breath slowing and your tears stopping. Your brain reckoned that this stranger just saved your life and you should be thanking him. But it also was trying to wrap itself around the fact that this stranger somehow ended up in your apartment as you were being held at knife point. And then somehow miraculously created a ball of flames in the palm of his hand in order to save you.

None of this made any sense. 

Felix could sense your panic, despite your calmer state. He knew being there was only causing you more stress. So reluctantly, he made the decision to leave.

“Just know you won’t be seeing him any longer. You’re safe now, y/n.” Felix assured before leaving your apartment. Making sure to round the building and land on your fire escape once more to close the window he jumped through. 

“I should find her...” Felix whispered into the silence once more. 

He left the kitchen, his head hurting. He headed back into his bedroom, setting his half empty tea down on his bedside table. He climbed into bed with a huff, turning his lamp off as he tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in. 

‘I hope you’re safe.’ Was the last thought on his mind before falling into a restless sleep.

• • •

It’s been a week since you last saw your now ex-boyfriend, Jaejin. A week since that fire wielding stranger broke into your house and saved you from your knife wielding boyfriend. A week since you last left your apartment. 

A week since anything made sense.

Concentration was not a concept you understood anymore. You couldn’t do anything but wander aimlessly around your apartment and wonder what the hell was going on. Luckily, you had Christmas break off from Uni so you didn't have to worry about missing any classes. Though your family did want you to fly home to see them, you’re simply not in the right mind to be having any human interaction. So, instead you just told them you needed to study for upcoming post-break exams and the other lame excuses for not flying home for the holidays. 

At the moment, you were sitting on the couch in your living room. Looking over at the kitchen you were nearly stabbed in. You have avoided walking in there besides getting something from the fridge on occasion. Eating hasn't really been constant since that night either. 

You still can’t wrap your head around the fact that it’s been a week already. It feels like just yesterday you were curled up on those kitchen tiles.

You also couldn’t get the thought out of your head that you had seen that stranger somewhere before. You could never forget that intense feeling of deja vu bordering nostalgia that flooded through you at the sight of him. Surprising yourself with how much calmer you felt in his presence. Almost like you body knew something your brain didn't. 

It was bizarre.

“Who the hell are you?” You questioned out loud to the ceiling. Finding it ironic that you were echoing the words of your ex-boyfriend that night. Those were the last words you heard from him, not having seen him since. 

Not that you were complaining.

This mystery stranger definitely did right by you, a fact you have concluded in your many hours of pondering. Pondering over who he was, who he is. Pondering over his ability to control fire, what he is. 

At first, you were mortified. At first, you wanted to leave town, leave the scary fiery monstrous thing that broke into your house. At first, you didn’t want to believe it.

But, that’s not how you saw it now.

Now, you were curious. Now, you wanted to know more about the odd fiery creature that saved your life. Now, you believed it.

The quiet, subtle voice in your head telling you ‘the supernatural is real’ was non stop. And it fucking terrified you. 

Being completely honest with yourself, the supernatural was one of your biggest fears. Even the doubt of their existence couldn’t stop the fear flowing through you at the scary paranormal movies, tv shows, stories.

But now that the doubt of their existence was gone, it was even more terrifying. Now you knew they were real? Now you had seen one? It was so much to take in. 

He knew your name.

That was another thought floating around in the mixture. 

How did he know your name? And where you lived? And when to come save you? Was he some weird protector sent to save you? Was he your supernatural stalker?

So many questions and none of them you could answer. You were just left with a sea of unanswered questions that flooded your mind. You felt you were drowning in them. You practically were.

*knock knock knock*

Your head snapped in the direction of the door, the sudden knocking saving you from your mental drowning. If only you knew how ironic that would soon become. 

You paused all movement momentarily to contemplate answering the door or not. Who would be knocking on your door at this time of night? What time was it even anyways? Your head turned to the clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen.

It was 3:28 am.

“Hell fucking no.” You whispered to yourself in disbelief. “There is no way I’m answering that.”

Your previous mental drowning then started up again.

What if it’s someone who got locked out of their apartment? What if it’s someone who’s trying to rob you?...

...what if it’s Jaejin?

You stopped asking yourself questions after that one. Too afraid to let your mind wander further. 

*knock knock*

You could feel your heartbeat accelerating. But nonetheless, your curiosity was killing you. You couldn’t handle another unanswered question. You just couldn’t, the unknown was eating away at your conviction.

You stood up, steadying your breathing in sync with your foot steps. 

Your heart was thumping in your ears as your hand shakily grabbed the doorknob. Twisting it and swinging the door open with more force than intended. And then your mind went completely blank.

“You?”

• • •

Felix woke up again. 

Every time he finally fell asleep, he could only see your terrified teary eyes staring back at him. So many questions behind them. So many questions he could just answer for you. 

He sat up once more, his gaze shifting to the half full mug of peppermint tea on his nightstand. His mind was racing. He wanted to go over there, just talk to you. Just ease your confusion. Just see your perfect little face again.

Felix sighed. He hated this whole unrequited love thing. Being in love with someone who doesn't even know you was complicated for sure. Being in love with someone who was probably terrified of you was even worse. But the pull was still there nonetheless.

On a whim, Felix made the split decision to go find you.

Without another thought, he stood up and threw on a new shirt. He pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants, not even bothering with jeans. He combed his hair back lightly with his fingers, grabbed his jacket and shoes and made his way to the front door.

His apartment was fairly close to yours, about a fifteen minute walk. And he assumed you would be there seeing as it’s like three in the morning. 

The December air was quite chilly. More so than Felix had anticipated. But staying warm was not exactly a problem for a pyrokinetic fallen angel, such as himself. All he had to do really was raise his body temperature a little and boom, warmth. But his abilities unfazed him. Not that he didn't want them or took them for granted, he simply knew a lot about pyrokinesis and what it often led to.

You see, Felix was the only pyrokinetic he knew of. He hadn't met another in Heaven nor here on Earth. He has heard plenty about other pyrokinetic creatures but he’s never met another one personally. Though, if he was being completely honest, he’s glad he hasn't met another one. 

Pyrokinetic creatures were often known for being evil. Most pyrokinetics were, in fact, demons or other not so good supernatural creatures. The fact that Felix was not only a pyrokinetic angel, but a pyrokinetic Guardian Angel, was extremely rare. He has had his fair share of assumptions made about him. And many of the other guardians assumed those assumptions to be true after Felix was banished to Earth. Assuming he had “finally turned to the dark side like the rest of his kind.” 

But none of that was true. Felix wasn't evil. Sure he had a hot temper, but who doesn't? He hated that people feared him his whole life. He hated that angels judged him his whole life. He hated being viewed how other pyrokinetics were viewed, as evil, destructive creatures. But he did not hate his powers, that was for sure. He saw his powers as a gift and didn't squander them as an insignificant thing. He was just so accustomed to using them, that it was second nature for him now. 

His thoughts were broken by your apartment building coming into view.

“Well here we are.” He said to himself, his chest feeling a little tighter. 

Upon entrance, he knew where to go. So he made his way up to the fifth floor, not bothering with the elevator. He didn't like the idea of standing idle for seven minutes while his thoughts festered. Taking the stairs meant something for his brain to think about rather than what on earth he was going to say to you if you were even awake at this hour.

Maybe he could just say ‘I’m here to answer your questions.’ 

No, no that’s super creepy. Don’t say that. Just be casual and apologetic, Felix that's all you gotta do. 

The fifth floor came sooner than he wanted. Enjoying the slight procrastination he could do in the stairwell. 

But no, he had come all the way here. If you were awake, he was going to talk to you. So, he slowly walked up to your apartment door and lifted his closed fist, ready to knock. And without another thought, that’s what he did. 

• • •

“You?” Confusion was probably the dominant emotion you were feeling at the moment. Fear and anxiety seemed to be washing away by the familiar presence in front of you. “I was not expecting to see you, like at all.” You said with a hint of disbelief and slight sardonic humor. 

Felix was taken aback. 

Not only did you answer the door, but you didn't seem scared to see him there at all. You just looked incredibly confused, and rightly so. But you also had plenty of reason to be scared, so why were you so calm?

“And I was not expecting that reaction... like at all...” Felix retorted, falling into place with your disposition rather easily.

“What was it you were expecting?” You questioned, surprised by how quickly the fear vanished at the sight of him. Though, he did save you after all. 

“Well if I’m being quite honest, I wasn’t even expecting you to answer, nonetheless not be afraid.” He said, causing a slight smile to form on your lips.

“Why would I be afraid of you? You saved my life.” You stated matter of factly. 

Felix practically felt himself do a double take. 

“Okay, now I’m the one confused.” Felix squinted, shaking his head slightly. “How are you being so calm about this? I’m a stranger that broke into your house and, granted, saved you from that asshole you called a boyfriend, but then came knocking on your door at three thirty in the morning. How are you not a little bit concerned? Actually, I’m concerned that you’re not concerned about this.” Felix blurted out all at once. He was almost annoyed that you were just okay with all of this. He spent the majority of his guardian days looking out for you and here you are talking to a complete stranger that knows your address and you very when know he can manipulate fire. For lack of a better phrase, what the fuck is wrong with you?

You giggled. You giggled. 

“I can’t really explain it, I just feel safe in your presence.” You shrugged. Felix was dumbfounded. Never in a million years did he think this was how this conversation would go. 

You couldn’t deny that he looked incredibly confused. And you also couldn’t deny that he looked incredibly cute while confused.

“Do you want to come in, have some tea? Maybe explain what on earth happened last week?” You asked, opening your door further and gesturing inside. 

Felix still couldn’t comprehend that this was actually happening. And you could sense his baffled state, so you tried to clarify further. 

“If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done so already.” You stated simply. 

That seemed to resonate better with him. 

“Okay, good point. Peppermint tea would be lovely.” Felix said, giving up on his confusion and following you into your apartment. 

You were pleasantly surprised that he had the same taste in teas as you as you pulled a mug from your kitchen cabinet and placed it in front of him.

You turned to the stove and turned the kettle on before returning your attention to the mysterious boy sitting at your kitchen counter. Felix could tell you were looking at him in expectance, but he wasn't sure exactly what to say.

“I don't even know where to start...” He admitted rather sheepishly. A light blush gracing his adorable freckled face that you could now study better in the light of your kitchen.

“How about your name? As you seem to already know mine.” You suggested, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. His blush seemed to deepen at your affirmation.

“Felix.” He stated rather simply. No more, no less. You liked his name, thought it fit him well. As you’ve never met another Felix before, and you’ve never met another boy like him before.

“So, Felix.” You started, watching as his head perked up at the sound of your voice. “Above all the questions swimming in my mind, one stands out.” You admitted.

“And that would be?” Felix inquired, already figuring what the question was going to be. 

“What are you?” You asked, not hesitantly but cautiously. Incase it was a sensitive topic.

Bingo, he knew that was coming.

Felix sighed, feeling like your disposition would believe him but your human brain might not. Well, there was only one way to find out.

“Do you want the long version or the short version?” Felix mused, watching you ponder his question like it was a catechism. It made him smile slightly.

“Well what’s the short version?” You asked after pondering. 

“I’m a fallen angel.” He simply said. You nodded thoughtfully.

Fallen angel. You’ve read about fallen angels. You weren't entirely sure they existed then, but you sure as hell did now. 

“What’s the long version?” You asked, intentionally asking for the short version first. 

Felix chuckled, a sound that made your heart unknowingly beat a little faster.

“I used to be an angel in Heaven, a Guardian Angel to be specific. And I was assigned to protect... your ex-boyfriend.” He admitted hesitantly. 

“Jaejin?” You inquired, things starting to click despite your bewildered tone. 

“Yes, that bastard. I used to be his Guardian before my wings were taken from me and I was cast out of Heaven, and then fell to Earth.” Felix said, a bitter taste in his mouth at the mention of that douche.

You nodded along, completely agreeing with his views on your ex-boyfriend.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, how come you were cast out of heaven?” You asked, knowing he might not want to answer that. It was his life after all, not yours. 

Felix looked up at you, realizing what answering that question would mean. He hesitated because he would basically be admitting that he was in love with you. Maybe not directly, but you were smart and would probably figure it out fairly quickly. And you weren't going to get any other questions answered if he didn't tell you why he was even here in the first place. So he may as well just tell you.

You could sense his hesitation. Not wanting to push him further, you began to backtrack. 

“You don’t have to answer, I was just curiou-”

“You.” He cut you off.

You blinked a couple of times, this new revelation clearly not hitting you yet.

“What?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“It’s you. You’re the reason I fell.” Felix repeated himself, a little more matter of factly this time. You blinked again. Did you do this unknowingly?

“Me? I don’t understand... how did I make you fall? Whatever I did, I didn't mean to do it and I sincerely apologize cause’ that’s like a pretty huge thing to do to someo-”

“No, no!” Felix interrupted again, this time waving his hands disarmingly. “You didn't do anything to make me fall. You’re just the reason I fell because um... you’re the reason I did what I did to get cast out.” He clarified. 

Your shoulders visibly relaxed. “Oh, so what was it you did then?” You asked, silently connecting dots in your head.

The exasperated sigh that left Felix’s lips only further confirmed your hypothesis. But regardless, you let him continue.

“Alright so... first of all, not every human is given a Guardian Angel. Only humans that are deemed to have a ‘pure heart’ are given one. But not everything that happens in Heaven is flawless, unfortunately. And somehow, your ex-boyfriend got on that list.” Felix began to explain. 

“You’re saying that Jaejin has a pure heart?” You asked, incredulously. 

“No, I am most definitely not saying that. In fact, I believe that God made a mistake.” Felix cringed a little at his own words. “I believe that I was supposed to be assigned to protect you, not Jaejin. I believe you are the one with the pure heart, not him.” Felix grew more serious now.

You didn't respond, not trusting your vocal chords. You just motioned for him to continue, needing to hear the rest.

“So after I saw how he began treating you, I stopped looking after him and started looking after you.” Felix paused momentarily to see your reaction to his words. You seemed... surprised but not in a bad way. Just surprised. 

Suddenly the kettle began to whistle, making you both jump a little. You mumbled a quiet ‘just a sec’ before turning to the kettle and pouring the now hot water into both your’s and Felix’s mugs, followed by two peppermint tea bags. He thanked you as you handed him his mug, gingerly taking a sip. You took a sip of your own tea and nodded for him to continue. 

“But that night he actually hit you for the first time...” he continued, “I don’t know, I kinda just snapped.” 

He was hesitant, you could feel it. His features turned downcast the more he spoke. Like he was guilty about it all, like he was blaming himself. And you didn’t like that. 

Your hand moved forward to rest on his forearm, squeezing affectionately in hopes to show him you didn’t see him at fault here. 

Felix’s eyes lingered on when your hand lay. Just thoughtfully, imagining this being a different conversation. One where there was a happy ending. 

Felix shook his head lightly, getting back on topic. He was pleasantly surprised to feel your hand remain there while he continued. 

“After I saw that asshole hurt you, I shifted back to Heaven and demanded that God reassign me to protect you. I questioned the authority of the being that created me. I told him he was wrong...” Felix swallowed back his guilt, feeling the warmth of your hand on his arm. Feeling the reassurance radiating from your touch. “And that’s why I was cast out of Heaven.” He finished with a heavy exhale. 

That night he saved you from Jaejin made so much sense now. He didn’t even have to explain any further, you already understood. 

This boy, well... fallen angel, sitting in front of you right now has spent the majority of his existence protecting you. He got himself kicked out of Heaven because he believes you have a pure heart and wants to keep you safe. 

You suddenly felt so much appreciation and gratitude for the boy sitting in front of you. And a new emotion that washed over you like a tsunami, one you couldn’t ignore.

Felix was practically dying in your silence. The anticipation of your next words killing him. You seemed to be taking all of this immensely well, so he was hoping you wouldn’t tell him to get out and never contact you again. 

And your unpredictability continued as he watched you get up and walk around the counter to where he was sitting, a feint smile gracing your lips. You leaned down, and before he could react, your lips were on his. 

Felix’s eyes went wide, his body stilling. Was he hallucinating? Or were you actually kissing him right now?

But just as he was ready to test the waters and kiss you back you pulled away. 

“I love you too.” You said, rather confidently. Felix was now positive that this was a hallucination.

“What?” Was all he could manage to get out. His mind going haywire. How was this even happening? How were you just okay with all of this?

“Look, I realize that I’ve only just formally met you now. But I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. And you’ve known me for so long. And I just feel really safe with you. And you’re really, really cute with your little freckled face and I seriously think love at first sight is a real thing becau-“

Felix leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, shutting up your blabbering. You didn’t pull away this time though, you leaned into his touch, his movements mimicking your own.

It was a short kiss, ending soon after it started. But what it meant was important. 

“Who said I loved you?” Felix smirked, his gaze turning playful. 

“Are you saying that you don’t?” You retorted, knowing he was full of it. 

Felix’s head fell back a little as he laughed, grabbing your waist and pulling you onto his lap. He left one hand there while the other drifted up to your face. His index finger lightly tilting your chin up so his lips could meet yours once again. 

This time for much longer. 

He took the initiative and coaxed your mouth open with a swipe of his tongue. You obliged, smiling into the kiss. You combed your fingers through his hair, adoring how soft and fluffy it felt. His lips tasted like the peppermint tea he had been drinking. And you couldn’t get enough of it.

His hands rested lazily on your hips, rubbing soft circles against the skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. His hands were so warm, it felt like fire dancing against your skin. It wasn’t unwelcome though, the heat flowing through you felt amazing considering how cold it was outside. 

You pulled away, needing to breathe. Your chest heaved softly as you caught you breath, your eyes not leaving his perfect lips. 

But your gaze shifted up to his eyes when he started speaking. 

“I will always keep you safe.” He stated sincerely, his gaze turning serious. “That’s a promise.”

You couldn’t stop the corners of your mouth from tugging upwards. His words eliciting a giggle from you. This was indeed moving fast, but you couldn’t care less. You loved him. You really did. 

Felix sealed his promise with another kiss, and many many more after that. 

And he indeed kept that promise, your days being filled with his over protectiveness. He always had to hold your hand when outside, always answered the door first, literally never let you use knives. Sometimes you would whine about him being overbearing, about not being able to cook dinner properly without a knife. But, he would always eventually cave, especially if you referred to him as your boyfriend, it worked literally every time. 

“What if you cut yourself and bleed to death on the kitchen floor?” 

“That would never happen because my wonderfully perfect boyfriend would be there to save me.”

*dramatic sigh* “Fine... ONE KNIFE.” 

Some people might think he’s too protective. Some people might think that you rushed into things. Some people might think that dating a supernatural, pyrokinetic, ex-guardian angel was unwise. Or not because no one actually knows that but that’s besides the point.  The point is, 

You wouldn't want it any other way.

• • •

A/N: Thank you for reading the fifth installment in this series! This was super entertaining to write as it was based off of a dream I had. I wish the dream world was reality tbh who’s with me 

The next one will be Seungmin’s! And I am very very excited for that one because his character gives me peter parker vibes, it’s great. Anyways, thank you for reading and I hope you all have wonderful days, my lovelies! 

[tuanyiems]

House Number 10

Got7 Jackson Wang Genre: Angst Word Count: 5k [Masterlist in blog description] Plot: Jackson Wang--childhood friend and neighbor, first love, and first heartbreak. When he leaves, you long for him. When he comes back, it’s for reasons you wish weren’t so. - I moved next door to house number 10 when I was four years old. An old couple lived in house number 10. Every morning I saw the old man sitting on his porch, reading the Chinese newspaper with a cigarette between his lips. He was a petite man with white hair and wrinkles etched into his tanned skin.

As soon as we moved in, my father’s face shifted from his usual frown. The connection was like the strong magnetic buttons of a purse—an instantaneous snap, and they were laughing together before even knowing each other’s names. That was the power of seeing a face like his. Though my father was at least a few years younger, and had a big round Buddha belly, next to the skinny old man, the two shared the same eyes. And though they spoke different languages the words were already translated in the wrinkles of their honey skins. You and I have fought similar battles. We’re going to be good friends.

It was soon after this moment that we realized the old man’s name—Jackson. No, his name wasn’t Jackson, but your name was, and like clockwork that became who he was, Jackson’s dad. You were a loud little kid, even though you were five years older. Still, as our moving trucks unloaded and your father leaned onto the bright orange of the moving truck while offering my dad a cigarette, you took my hand in yours and pulled me to the back of the house.

From there you taught me the secrets of the backyard-jungle: you showed me which bushes had the biggest red berries and we’d spend entire summers squishing and staining them against our clothes, you taught me how to sneak into the old lady’s house across the street so we could say hi to her six-toed cat, Harold, and when you tried to show me the family of raccoons that lived in the abandoned storefront down the block, but it was 9PM and way past my bedtime, you carried me on your back the entire time yelling things my sleepyhead could never hear properly. 

But in the span of three years this fleeting moment of childhood paradise was quickly lost in your changing disposition. When you turned twelve the light in your eyes diminished. They glazed over with angst and anger. People attributed this change to the telltale signs of puberty, but they didn’t know you like I did and they didn’t love you like I did.

You were my first and only friend and so I held onto your fleeting figure for as long as I could, making my way up the steps of your house with purpose, dolls and comic books in the crook of my arms. And your father would smile from down the hallway, waving me over through the open doorway before attending to his kitchen once more. I used to set my toys down on your living room floor, placing them meticulously in the order we would play them.

While I waited, I would stare at the back of your father in his small kitchen. He was a small, thin man who seemed much older than he actually was. But in his kitchen, he stood tall, handling the wok in one hand like an expert. And always, your mother sat from the corner of the room, shaking in her seat and a bitter frown on her face as she mumbled to herself. It wasn’t puberty that forced you into hiding—it was your mother.

She lived in your house like a ghost, staying in the shadowy corners between piles of old Chinese newspapers and dusty Hong Kong VHS tapes. Her eyebrows were always furrowed in annoyance or anger and she would whisper into empty air in a language I couldn’t understand but I knew it couldn’t be good, whatever she was saying. Every time I visited, she was frowning and I grew up thinking maybe she didn’t have the ability to smile.

When I was younger, I thought you went into hiding because your mom was mean. After a while I thought maybe you were growing up into her. Maybe happy Jackson was just a fleeting period like my childhood and you were meant to be just like your mother, angry and frowning forever.

The days I visited you and you wouldn’t come out, your mother’s eyes would sometimes meet mine and I would scare from the anger that seethed inside her orbs. They were angrier than the eyes my dad would make when he had too much to drink. But I could never understand why. How could she be so angry when she had a happy, smiling son like you and a happy, smiling husband like your father?

Your father would place piping hot bowls of beef chow mein and ginger chicken and pork fried rice and as my eyes grew twice their size, hers would squint in annoyance. Jackson, your father seemed to grow up with a heart of gold, because after blowing on a big spoonful of rice for me and laughing heartily when I ate so eagerly I would bite onto the metal of the spoon, he would then proceed to feed your mother. It was an act of love I had never seen between my own parents, but I watched on with bated breath as your mother refused the spoon each time, shaking her head as her body trembled further. He never gave up though, begging her with words I couldn’t translate but I still understood to be love.

Your father wasn’t always smiling. When he beckoned your mother to eat, there was a sadness in his eyes. Even though he laughed triumphantly at every spoonful she swallowed, the wrinkles across his forehead would furrow with a sadness I never understood—just felt.

It was during one of these times that your mother got upset. And she wailed. I didn’t know the words she was saying but they sounded like hate as she swatted the spoon out of your father’s hands. And then she proceeded to pound on the table, breaking bowls and sending the hot plates of food to the floor.

“Jackson!” your father yelled, trying to hold your mother back as tears slipped from his eyes. “Jackson!”

When you finally came out of your room, your eyes were dark like your mother’s, and you stalked into the living room without looking my way. Then you gathered my toys in one arm and grabbed my hand in the other.

You forced me back onto your doorsteps and threw my toys onto the ground and as you stared at the cement, your hands curled in tight fists, you whispered angrily, “Don’t ever come back here.”

After that day I stopped coming over. We never talked again either.

Your mother continued to walk aimlessly around the neighborhood, glaring silently at whoever passed her. I continued to pretend I wasn’t longing for you to look my way again.

Most days our families lived beside each other peacefully. Your father continued to sit on the porch of your house, reading his daily newspaper with a cigarette between his fingers. Every morning as I left for school, he would send me a big, wide smile as if that day never happened. We could only exchange hello’s but it was still a stark contrast to the silence between you and me.

Soon it was like we were never friends. Any news from you only came from the lips of my father—Jackson got into the good high school an hour away from home, Jackson got a full scholarship to some prestigious college in California, Jackson’s doing really well on the other side of the country. But after every wistful compliment, there was always the shake of his head.

“He’s doing all these great things but what about his poor father? American kids are just like that…they never think of us once they get older,” he would grumble under his breath.

“I’m sure he’s wiring money back to his dad,” I’d defend, even though I knew you didn’t need or want me to defend you. I found myself doing it anyways.

“You kids think you can do anything once you’re older,” my father would sigh. “But you forget we’re getting old too. One day you’ll find out it’s not always about you.”

For house number 10, that day came last week.

I remember the phone call that came during a sunny afternoon. I was just finishing up lunch when our house phone began ringing. Normally I wouldn’t pick up these calls. For some reason though, that day I did.

A part of me wished I didn’t. I can’t even fully recall the voice on the other end. Just that it was from the hospital. They had tried calling around dawn but no one was answering. They were sorry. The cancer spread.

He didn’t make it.

The only thing I could really remember was the sound of my father’s heavy footsteps leaving the house. The sound of my heartbeat drumming against my ear as I pressed the plastic phone harder against me as if that would make the empty dial tone disappear. And all I could remember was the last time I had waved hello to your father, about a week ago, or maybe two? Was it really that long ago? But his smile had been so big when he said hello back and I remember at the time I had wondered just briefly if you had grown up to have a smile like his.

And then things just felt cold. Cold shivers running down my spine. Cold sweat running down the back of my neck. Cold fingers trembling to grasp anything that would bring me back to reality, because this reality was too cruel and why was the hospital calling our house phone and not yours?

Jackson, why weren’t you your own father’s emergency contact?

This is what I want to ask you as you stare directly into my eyes for the first time in over ten years. I want to ask why you were just coming back now, only after I searched your name through Facebook and you were the third Jackson Wang on the search list. I want to ask why it took you three hours to reply to my message.

Instead I avert my eyes from yours, leading you into your own home as if you’re a stranger to it. Maybe you are.

Your mother glances at you for a brief moment, a scowl on her face in exactly the way she looks at me. You don’t even attempt to smile at her though before you make your way into your childhood bedroom. Like that you disappear again.

And I make my way into your father’s kitchen, cooking a humble fried rice and leaving it in bowls for your mother in exactly the same way I’ve been doing it ever since that phone call. On the first day she threw a fit, slamming piping hot bowls of rice on my feet. But the next day she looked at me like she was looking right through me and then her eyes glazed over as she swallowed spoonfuls at a time.

Now that I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned not to be afraid of your mother. The orbs that I thought were seething with anger I’ve learned over the years were the same almond shaped, tired and worn out eyes that mirrored my mother’s. I remember the day I realized this distinctly, it was the day you left for California.

Your father beckoned me over with a bright smile and the gentle wave of his hand as I was coming home from high school. He handed me a paper wordlessly, pointing at the bolded font.

“Wrong?”

“No,” I answered back, my eyes furrowing as I pretended like I could pronounce the names of the bolded medication. “They’re just saying the medicine is being switched to an unbranded version. It costs less.”

He furrowed his brows, pointing at the letter again before holding up an orange bottle of pills. “Wrong?”

“No,” I shook my head, pointing to the bottle. “Same. Different name.”

“Ahh!” He smiled a big toothy grin before sending me on my way with a hot bowl of noodles for me and my dad.

That evening I looked up the name of the medicine and learned it was for schizophrenia. Your mother was never a monster, just a tired woman who got caught by an evil spirit, stealing away the light in her eyes and her smile.

So when she glares at me before walking away into her own room, I muster up a smile before putting the dishes away. When I’m done, I find myself sitting back down in your living room. And instead of lining up toys in the order I’ll play, I line up half empty bottles of cheap vodka I found hidden in the back of the kitchen cupboards.

I don’t want to go back home tonight. Even though you’re back home, the house feels too empty.

And I’m not a big believer in the supernatural, but a part of me stays in the hopes I’ll be able to feel your father’s spirit lingering.

In the meantime, I pour myself a shot of vodka.

It tastes like how I feel.

Bitter. Burning. Like hell, sitting inside my mouth.

“Mind if I join you?”

When I look up, you’re already settling down on the cold tiled floor beside me. You pour yourself a shot and swallow it down without even blinking.

This time around I stare at you closely. The day you left for college, it was early morning but your skin glowed. You had on your perfect, pearly white smile. Lips plump and peachy. What you would have called “bed head” flowed naturally up from your forehead and you fingered through the strands effortlessly while you pulled your suitcase down the sidewalk with your other hand. There was light and life in your eyes as you walked down the path, sporting the thick college hoodie despite it being summer still.

At the time, I looked at you with a stomach sick with envy, especially when you didn’t even bother to spare a glance behind you.

When I picked you up at the airport I felt sick again, feeling the fluttering of nerves in my stomach despite the years I spent telling myself to hate you. In the years that you left, you had grown into a man, with the same handsomeness if not better. Your muscles filled in. Your jawline sharpened. Your taste in baggy clothing deflated into fitted sweaters that hugged the curves of your chest. You wore a fat silver watch on your wrist and a chain of diamonds across your neck that looked exactly like the American dream.

But now that you’re sitting right next to me and I am too empty to feel nervous anymore, I see you.

Your hair droops across your forehead like a wilted plant, probably from too many days of not being washed. Your cheeks are sunk in and there is a grey shadow lining the edge of your mouth and jawline. The eyes that used to be so full stares blankly at the vodka bottles, their white edges tinged with red. Who would have ever known that this was the boy whose laughter used to charm the sun into rising each morning?

“You should eat something, Jackson,” I finally speak up, rising from my seat.

You shake your head, pouring yourself another shot. “I’m not hungry.”

“Drinking on an empty stomach will make you sick.”

You scoff, taking a shot. “You think I care about getting sick right now?”

“No,” I sigh. “But I care.”

And though I know you won’t touch it, I bring over the extra bowl of fried rice to you anyways. You don’t even glance at it before taking another shot.

“I always told him to stop smoking. I said that shit would give him cancer.” You chuckle dryly, “Lo and behold.”

“Jackson,” I speak up softly.

You only shake your head in defeat, face falling into your palms. “He never listens though. I told him to quit doing third shift too. The janitor job didn’t even pay much. I don’t get why he was so stubborn about a stupid job he didn’t even like.”

You rub at your eyes and I watch as they become more red. “Or he could have put mom in a home. He’s too old to be caring for her and himself too.”

You ball your hands into fists, against your face, and for a moment I think you might be crying, but when you raise your head again your eyes are dry. You turn to me, an empty look. “I fucked up.”

Before I can ask you why, you are downing another shot and speaking again. “The last time we talked was over the phone. I was telling him he had to put mom in a home, someplace with better facilities, with caretakers that would make sure she took her meds on time. Maybe it would lessen the stress. Maybe he’d quit smoking too.”

You shrug, staring up at the ceiling. “But instead he just got mad at me. Said I didn’t deserve to be his son if I was going to talk about mom like that. But how else was I supposed to talk about her? She never acted like a mom to me anyways.”

Your voice quivers at this and you take your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard as you begin to lose control. And though your hands come to your face quickly, I don’t miss the tears that begin to fall.

“He said he didn’t need a son like me. That’s the last thing he said to me.”

“Jackson,” I whisper, my arms falling around you and pulling you close to my chest. I feel you trembling in my embrace and for the first time, I am letting myself cry too. It’s been so long since I’ve touched you and your skin feels hot against mines. For a moment I forget about the man that ignored me for years. I forget the man that turned his back on his friends and family to pursue an entirely new life across the country. In this house you are just the little boy who took my hand in yours because you found a tinier friend and wanted to show her the world. I don’t know what else to say to you though.

I know my hug is not the one you want as you pull me tighter into your arms, sniffling into my chest, but it is the only thing I can give you.

It feels like a long time before you pull away.

My knees ache from holding you and there’s a wet patch in the middle of my shirt. You’re hunched over, exhausted. It’s getting late in the night, but you make no move to leave.

Instead you sigh. “I still haven’t written the eulogy. I tried to hole myself up in my room, but this isn’t like the college apps. I don’t know what the hell to write. ‘Hey dad, I’m sorry I was a horrible son. I let you die all alone. Hope there’s mahjong in the afterlife or whatever.’”

“You’re beating yourself up, Jackson,” I say, rubbing at his back in the hopes it can comfort him. I know it won’t. “You weren’t a horrible son.”

You only shake your head, as stubborn as your father was. “No, I am. I used to yell at my dad over the stupidest things. Like when we had award ceremonies at school, I always told him to stay at home. I didn’t want people to know I came from the poor part of town. I didn’t want my teachers to know my dad never graduated middle school. I didn’t want my friends to see my crazy mom. Sometimes I would yell at him for letting me be born into this family…that sometimes, I wished I was dead than to be born his son.”

Another tear slips.

“You were young then,” I defend you. “I’ve said some things to my parents that I’m not proud of either. But you’re wrong about your dad. Maybe he didn’t tell you, but he was always proud of you. Every time you got an award, your dad was running to our house, ready to brag about you to my dad.”

I chuckled softly. “There was one time, your dad was bragging about you winning a dance competition and the next day my dad signed me up for ballet classes. I hated you for a whole year after.”

You smiled faintly. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright. It looked good for college anyways.”

“Tell me more,” You looked at me. “You seem to know more about my dad than I do. Sometimes I think I don’t know him at all. Who was he before he came to America? What happened after I left? I wish I could’ve asked him myself.”

“Come,” I answer, taking his hand in mines, I tug him up. “I think I can show you.”

You look at me hesitantly but silently, you follow me as I lead you up the stairs and into your father’s bedroom. His room is small and dusty, filled to the brim with knick-knacks—stacks of old Chinese newspapers, cassette tapes, and books so old the print across their spines have faded. There is dust across his night stand, littered with cigarette butts and chipping picture frames but the images are clean—photos of you and your mother inside every frame.

“Wow,” You quietly gasp, picking up one of the frames. “I don’t remember my mom ever smiling like this.”

“I want you to see this.” Bending down, I pull out a tattered grey suitcase from under the twin-sized bed. “I had a long talk with your dad once, for a history project. My partner at the time spoke Cantonese.”

I unzipped the suitcase carefully, watching as you looked on, your face unreadable.

I was eighteen when your father showed me this suitcase. You had been gone for a few years already. I was a senior and didn’t really care about school anymore. College acceptance letters were already coming in.

But when I got the history assignment I knew I would ask your father.

Though his bright hello’s were always a pleasure, I wanted to know more. At first, it was a selfish act. Even though I was dating people now, Jackson, you always lingered in my mind like a burn scar that would never fade. I thought that if I knew your father better, that maybe I would learn a little more about you.

And so selfishly I forced my boyfriend at the time into your home as the bridge to bring me back to you. But as the minutes passed and my partner translated your father’s words to me, I could feel myself growing closer, as if only he and I were sitting on the floor of his tiny bedroom.

As soon as I asked to learn his story, your father’s face unfolded like an open book as if he were just waiting for someone to listen to him. He smiled a toothy grin when he showed me the suitcase.

“This is my wife’s suitcase. She arrived with just this suitcase in one hand and Jackson in her other arm.”

“The two of you didn’t come to America together?”

“No way!” he shouted at me, hands waving dramatically as if I had asked something absurd. “It was way too dangerous. Back then it was risky to cross borders and migrate to America. People died trying to get here. Plus, she was pregnant with Jackson. It was safer for me to go first, find a job and settle first.”

And then he smiled pulling out a pile of beautifully embroidered, traditional Chinese dresses. “Jackson’s mom wasn’t like me. I grew up on the streets. Barely went to school. An old chef took me in and I learned how to cook from him. That’s how I met Jackson’s mother, but she was the daughter of a high official.”

He laughed heartily, bending to his night stand to pick up a cigarette. Taking a long drag, his eyes glazed over, deep in thought. “Her father hated my guts. Called me a street rat, out to steal his money. But we fell in love anyways and she left her family and all of her money behind for me.”

He waved his hand over the dresses. “Just kept these dresses with her and we ran away. I always felt bad though. She wasn’t used to being poor. The conditions in China weren’t good either. The rich kept getting richer and the poor just got poorer. Even if I became the best chef in China, I couldn’t give her the life she was used to.

“So I told her, ‘Let’s move to America.’ People were leaving for America left and right and talking about striking it rich. Jackson’s mom took my hand and she said, ‘I’ll follow wherever you go.’”

There’s a sad smile on your dad’s lip before he closes his eyes and takes another drag. “But we found out she was pregnant, so I came over first. I felt bad. My wife was pregnant but I had to leave her all alone. But I was thinking about the future so I just left. I thought living in America would be easy. I thought I would get rich just like that, but when I got here I couldn’t even find a job. I couldn’t step anywhere close to a kitchen. Had to clean floors instead.”

He looked up at the ceiling, blinking away teary eyes before turning back to the suitcase. Pulling aside your old baby clothes, he handed me blocks and blocks of thick stacks of letters held together by cheap pink straw ribbons.

“For over a year we just kept writing letters to each other. And when she finally arrived to America, she comes during the middle of winter in nothing but a t-shirt and a suitcase full of letters.” With his head down, tears drop to the tiled floor. “That’s how much the silly old lady loved me.”

I sat silently as I watched his frail old body shake with tears. His hand balled into fists, he put out the cigarette right on the floor. When he spoke again, it was a mumble. “She gave up everything to be with me and I turned her into a monster. Now when she looks at me, she tells me she hates me. Says ‘You. You’re the devil that locked me up. I hate you. I hate you.’ That’s all she says to me now. I don’t know what to do. It’s true.”

He sighed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands. “I shouldn’t have brought them to America. Then…Then my wife wouldn’t have caught the sickness…and Jackson would know how sweet his mother was. I shouldn’t have met her…I ruined her life…and now she hates me…hates her own son…”

I was too young then. I didn’t know what to do.

So watched your father cry as my partner shuffled awkwardly between us.

I spent years afterwards wishing I had said something. That none of that was his fault. He had done the best he could do. He couldn’t help the situation or that your mother got sick. Instead I had prayed in my heart that you would tell him this one day.

I watch now as you finger through the yellowing pages carefully. You’re crying again, shoulders shaking as you hold up each letter and read through them slowly. You ebb away at each letter slowly until your eyes are so flooded in tears that you can’t read anymore.

And here I am again, sitting across from you and unable to do anything.

Instead I wish in my heart that your father was here to hold you.

I wish I had more vodka in my system. I wish I was a stronger believer in the supernatural.

I wish for your father’s spirit to meet us in this room. I want him to witness his son and finally learn the love that always sat in your heart no matter how much you tried to deny it. And I pray in my heart, that if your father’s spirit can hear me, that he might send some kind of sign. Anything to make you hurt less.

“Jia Er.”

When I turn around it’s your mom, inching herself into the room. The creaking of the door is the only sound that breaks the silence. You seem to be holding your breath as tears continue to flow. You’re scared to believe your eyes and I wonder if you can see it through your blurry vision.

Your mother’s orbs are a soft brown and they mirror yours as they begin to glaze with tears.

“Jia Er,” she whispers again, falling to the floor.

“Mom.”

You meet her halfway, catching her in your arms, but quickly she is holding you as you sob into the crook of her neck. She squeezes her eyes shut, tears streaking her wrinkled face.

I tremble, trying to stand up and I make my way back downstairs. I take in a breath, wiping away my own tears. When I make my way out of the house, I can’t find it in me to leave the porch.

I know that moment won’t last long. She’ll go back to shaking her head and ignoring the world again. I know this, but my chest feels slightly lighter.

The night sky has brightened to a light grey-blue. I take a seat at your doorway and I wonder if your father is sitting beside me, peeking up from his Chinese newspaper, cigarette between his lips, and a smile that reaches his eyes.

“Good morning,” I whisper.

And I wait for the sun to rise.

-

-

-

In honor of my favorite neighbor, may he rest in peace. 

[comicsandmakeup]

A House Filled with Pretty Things

Chapter 4: Group Therapy 

Notes: I finally have a beta. The gorgeous Rivkae-Winters has kindly agreed to beta my work. So we might just get some decent writing out of me. 

It’s a long chapter and I tried to break it up so it doesn’t hurt your eyes. Let me know what you think. You can also read it here. 

Warning: Discussion of miscarriage, infertility, and child loss in this chapter!

Three Months Later:

He hadn't wanted to share.

When Jason first joined the group at the behest of his mates, he had entertained the idea only because Chelsea, his psychologist, said that he didn't need to share just listen.

So he did.

He listened to omega after omega recalled their own journey with infertility and child loss. Each story sadder than the next. One omega lost six babies to miscarriage before finally throwing in the towel and declaring herself a childless omega. There was a bitter finality in her voice that made his stomach clench and his shoulders scrunch inward. Another spoke about how he and his mate tried for several years only to be met with disappointment after each heat. He knew that feeling all too well. Another spoke about how unfair all this was. There were so many abusive parents out there who couldn’t fathom what an absolute gift their children were. Yet he, who would adore his children, couldn't even have one. Jason had entertained similar thoughts as well.

He listened to each of these stories, his eyes always on the floor staring at his shoes. He stayed as far away from the group as he could, not interacting with any of the other attendees.

Like clockwork when it came time for him to share, he always shook his head and passed the baton on by stating "Not Ready." And like always, the group moved on to the next story.

Yet Jason continued to come to each of their weekly meeting and listen to their stories. He listened to the struggles of those around him and somehow the tightness that wrapped itself around his heart like barbed wire loosened. Their stories which were so similar to his somehow helped him breathe a little clearer. And without any conscious thought on his part, he slowly started to share.

The need to say something gripped him suddenly when they were all taking a breather from a heavy session. His turn was next and instead of passing the baton on, he gripped the metal stick harder in his fist. It signified that he had the floor and he could feel all of the attendees looking at him. Normally he would have hated all the attention but the emotions churning away at his gut held most of his focus.

He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, uncomfortable and on edge. He very nearly passed on the baton when a pale hand clenched his. Startled he followed the hand up to a tiny face. Warm sympathetic eyes the color of caramel greeted him. It was Justin, one of the attendees who had just experienced a still-birth. The hand in his squeezed harder and he smiled gently.

Jason couldn't explain it. He normally hated when people touched him, especially strangers but Justin like the other people in this group didn't feel like strangers. They spent weeks disclosing their most intimate thoughts and deepest fears, and suddenly the words crawled out of his throat without any effort on his part

He returned Justin's squeeze before letting go and finally turned towards the rest of the group. Chelsea had a soft smile on her face and nodded for him to speak. The rest of the omegas in attendance each smiled encouragingly at him.

"My name is Todd. I'm a detective." He started. There was no way he could explain what his real job was, so detective it was. It didn't matter anyway. The identities of everyone in this room was anonymous per Sanctuary's rules. Batman made sure of that.

A chorus of "Hi Todd." sounded out around him. He smiled.

"My mates and I started trying to conceive eleven months ago. It seemed like everyone around us was having babies. And I never really thought much about it. I was happy for them but a baby never factored in my plans for the future. It was after one of my good friends gained sole custody of his baby that I even entertained the idea of having a child." He began. He furrowed his brow and returned his gaze back to the floor, it somehow helped him recall the details better.

"Being a single dad was hard and I wanted to help, so I'd watch the baby when he had to work late. Or come over to his house to help him cook dinner and make organic baby food." He smiled, recalling the early days with Lian and Roy. "It was nice. She was such a sweet baby, hardly fussy at all. I enjoyed spending time with her. Taking care of her. A couple of months later, a family friend invited us out to Metropolis to celebrate Christmas with them. My mates and I went to visit them. He and his wife were expecting. Around the same time one of my mate's friends had twins, and suddenly the idea of a baby sounded more and more appealing."

Jason could still feel that burning want inside of him as he told this story.

He hated himself a bit for that delusion.

"My mates must have had similar ideas because they were the ones that approached me with baby talk and I agreed. They seemed so happy. They had no idea I had similar thoughts for a while now." He reminisced.

"We started right away. Trying to conceive and at first it was fun." He laughed bitterly. "Then one heat passed, then the next, and the next and nothing. Absolutely nothing. Every pregnancy test came back negative. I started dreading my heats. My mates could tell, but I was determined. So we tried harder. Still Nothing."

"I started getting desperate so I read up all that I could. I researched the hell out of the subject and I started charting my heats. Recording my basal temperature and tried every baby making position Cosmo listed. And even after all of that. Nothing!" His grip on the metal baton turned his knuckles white as he recalled those hellish months.

"After six months of 'trying'." Jason let go of the baton with one hand to make air-quotes. "I finally went to the doctor. She told me that it would take a miracle for me to conceive. I had completely ruined my insides when I was younger."

He tried to take several calming breaths before he could continue. To at least make an attempt at legibility, still the words came running out of him. "Nexium. It was a prescription drug marketed to poor omegas as a heat suppressant.” And one that had quickly found its way onto Gotham’s streets as well.

“What they didn't tell you was that it caused irreparable damage. One in twelve omegas experienced drastic changes in their heat cycles. One in thirty showed signs of blood clots and loss of vision. And finally one in fifty showed signs of infertility after prolonged use."

Jason could feel the looks of sorrow even as he focused intently on his hands as they clutched the baton.

Yep, that was him.

Jason Todd, the omega with the worst possible luck.

"I was on it for two years. It was the cheapest thing on the market and I couldn't afford anything else. I didn't even read the side effects! I just wanted the burning under my skin to stop!" He sobbed. He couldn’t remember when he started crying, but the tears ran down his face, down his neck, wetting the collar of his shirt.

A thin hand, Justin's, rubbed soothing circles on his back. It reminded him of his mother, though Catherine was never well enough to comfort him.

That had always been his job.

Still it helped him carry on with the rest of his tragic tale.

"After my doctor's visit, I just shut down. I wanted nothing to do with babies. Kids in general. I threw away all my conception journals. All my charts. Everything. I refused to talk about with anyone, including my mates. They tried to get me to open up but I was dead set on putting all of it past me." Someone passed him some tissues so he took a couple of seconds to wipe his face before continuing. "I threw myself into my work, determined to move on. I acted like I hadn't spent the last six months trying to make a baby. For the next couple of months, all I did was work."

"I didn't even know I was pregnant." He gasped out. "There was no signs or symptoms. I had stopped journaling weeks ago, so I wasn't tracking anything. I wholeheartedly believed that I couldn't ever conceive, so I thought I didn't have anything to worry about." Tears continued to run down his face.

"I went out that night looking for three missing children." He explained, trying his best not to break down then and there.

"My partners and I, we found them in an abandoned warehouse, just on the outskirts of the city. They located and tended to the hostages while I subdued the perpetrator.” It should have been so simple.

“He didn't even hit me that hard. I have had worse over the course of my career, so I thought nothing of it.” Jason sucked in a breath through his nose and let it out slowly, struggling against the veritable tsunami of grief that had reached it’s crest inside of him.

“He was arrested and the kids returned to their families. It was by all accounts a win."

"I didn't even know anything was wrong until much later when the cramping began. I brushed it off at first but soon it radiated all across my back and genitals. I tried to take a bath, hoping that it would help. It didn't." Taking a shaky breath, he braced himself for the most damning details of the entire story.

"That's when I noticed the blood. I think I passed out. When I woke up, I was strapped to a hospital bed. They told me what happened. The child I wasn't supposed to have been able to conceive, I lost. The miracle baby I couldn't have, died before I could even meet him or her."

"Anyway that's my story." A bitter sob escaped unbidden, his lip quivering. Tears running down his face.

Jason passed the baton on, feeling lighter. Hollow. Lost in his own world as the Omega seated on his other side spoke.

[searchingwardrobes]

Shatter Me

Happy Birthday, @distant-rose! Thank you for being a wonderful friend who has encouraged me when I doubt my writing abilities, has listened to my rants about mommy-guilt-trippers when it’s got to be an incredibly boring topic, and not only got me to watch Stranger Things, but let me fangirl to you over it. One of the things I loved during the CSBB were our discussions about music. I’d say we have similar tastes, but let’s face it, you have a much more refined ear than I do. I was bummed that I didn’t use “Shatter Me” more in Natural Opposite, so I wrote this for you. It’s based more on the music video, and I don’t even know how to define it other than a bizarre canon-divergence. I hope you enjoy it anyway, Ro!

Summary: Killian had never known any life but this: a dirty cot and a room of smoke, steam, and grease. Then the boy came, telling Killian that only he could save her, the dancer with the violin.

Rating: G

Words: 1,500+

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @kday426 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @bethacaciakay @teamhook @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @winterbaby89 @onceuponaprincessworld @optomisticgirl @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @katie-dub @let-it-raines @killiancygnus @effulgentcolors

If only the clockworks could speak, I wouldn’t be so alone

Killian had never known any life but this: a dirty cot and a room of smoke, steam, and grease. Turn the crank, pull the lever, turn the crank, pull the lever, every hour on the hour.

Food arrived by the dumb waiter above his cot three times a day, morning, noon, and evening. Water for him to drink and wash with trickled down the pipes and through the tap.

Though he never attempted to leave, he somehow just knew he couldn’t. The rare times he even contemplated it, panic gripped him, for who would turn the crank and pull the lever?

He hadn’t heard a human voice in so long, his own sounded strange to his ears the few times he used it. To talk to the mice that scurried in the corners. Like bloody Cinderella.

For the most part, he had accepted this life as all he would ever have. Not that he was happy, or even content, but what could a man hope to do? Did hope even exist in this dark and grimy place? The heat oppressed him as much as anything else, holding him down like shackles.

The hook on his left hand sometimes dazzled him. He would look at it in wonder, a memory tickling the back corners of his mind, yet it would dissipate like mist before he could hold onto it.

Then there was the voice. He could never make out what it said. Could only hear it faintly, calling from far away. Always just as the gears ground to a stop. Then he’d crank the handle, pull the lever, and just before the grinding metal drowned it out . . . music.

Though he couldn’t recall ever hearing music before, he knew it, connected with it on a visceral level. Frantic yet melancholy, and for one split second his heart ached for something just out of reach.

Day, after day, after day passed, each exactly the same as the last. Sleep, wake, turn the handle, pull the lever, eat, sleep, wake . . .

Until one day, the boy came. Killian stood mute at his appearance, this fresh-faced lad with a brightness to his eyes and determination in his bearing.

“What -” was all his misused voice could choke out.

“It’s me, Henry. I’ve come to rescue you.”

“Henry?”

The boy reached to grab his arm, and they both stilled as they heard it: just as the gears wound down, the voice. And for the first time, Killian could make out the faint words: help me.

The boy – Henry? He said that name as if it should mean something – yanked on his arm. “Hurry! Only you can save her!”

But the handle, and the lever. It was the top of the hour, and Killian couldn’t say no to the compulsion. He reached for the gears.

“No!” Henry shouted, attempting to pull him back.

Killian wrenched free. Turn the handle, pull the lever. Henry clutched at his own hair frantically. He looked wildly around the small space, and before Killian could stop him, he lifted a sledgehammer he’d found in the corner and slammed it into the gears. Now it was Killian attempting to stop the boy, screaming, “No!” The handle had to be turned, the lever had to be pulled. On the hour, every hour. If not . . . what? He didn’t know, but it had to be catastrophic. Right?

The gears creaked as nuts and bolts popped free at Henry’s onslaught. A scream rent the air. Fear flashed in the boy’s eyes.

“Come on, hurry!”

Killian followed Henry down corridors lined with hissing pipes and bursts of steam. Part of him felt a surge of panic at leaving his post, but as they ran, the voice grew louder, and not only that – music. Louder, and louder it grew – sweet, beautiful music.

They burst out of the passageway and into a large, domed room. A tiny circular window far above was the only illumination, and the sun shone down from it onto a giant glass globe that swirled with sparkling white flashes of light and snow.

Mesmerized, Killian drew close, holding his breath, for never in his miserable life had he seen anything so exquisitely beautiful. There, spinning on a pedestal was a stunning, graceful ballerina. Her blonde hair, like shimmering gold, was held up in a loose bun. Her skin was like porcelain, smooth and perfect. She was dressed in a pink tutu with pink ballet slippers on her feet, the satiny ribbons criss-crossing up her legs, one of which was held aloft. Her arms held a violin which she played mechanically, her eyes staring straight ahead as she spun. Though her eyes never fell upon him, still her lips moved, crying out, sounding muffled by her glass prison: help me.

“This is what those gears were doing to her!” Henry screamed at him.

“Who - who is she?”

Henry’s face crumpled at his words, though Killian couldn’t understand why. The boy pounded on the glass, but only a dull thud resounded through the cavernous room.

Killian gazed upon her face – so perfect. She almost seemed . . . doll like. He stepped forward and touched the glass lightly with his trembling hand. He gasped when a tiny crack spread beneath his palm. He looked from the cracked glass to the ballerina’s face. Her jade eyes finally met his.

“Killian,” she whispered.

He gasped and stumbled backwards. How did she know his name? As he recoiled, her eyes grew sad, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

“Look!” Henry cried, pointing at the tear, for in its wake, a crack formed on the ballerina’s smooth cheek, a sliver of light shining through. “You can save her!”

Henry pushed him forward, but Killian shook his head. “No! No, I can’t!”

The light upon her cheek faded, and the beautiful dancer slumped forward, her violin and bow dangling from her hands. The haunting melody she had played ended abruptly.

“Don’t!” Killian cried, the loss of her music and the gaze of her eyes cutting him deep. He rushed to the globe, and without thinking, struck it with his hook. A web of cracks spread across the glass, and the dancer was upright again. Killian took a deep breath, lifted his hook, and struck again. More cracks, and now the dancer lifted her violin. He continued to strike the globe as the ballerina played faster and faster. The more she played, the more cracks appeared in her porcelain façade, and the more fluidly her limbs moved. Finally, she stumbled from the pedestal and reached towards him.

“Don’t stop!” Henry screamed. “You’re saving her!”

Transfixed by the green of her eyes and the light streaming from her, Killian reached forward with his hand. She dropped her bow and lifted her own hand to meet his. They pressed their palms together, with only the cracked glass of the globe between them. A warmth seemed to spread through him, and he released a gasping breath as his heart swelled.

“Emma!”

The smile that filled her face at the sound of her name from his lips was the final crack in the china doll chrysalis that held her captive. The surge of light that burst from her arched her body and pulsed outward. The glass globe exploded in a shower of jagged shards. Killian spun, suddenly realizing that his clothes had changed. He was no longer wearing the suspenders and cheap muslin shirt he had worked in for what felt like so long. He now wore his pirate garb of black leather, topped with his heavy duster. He used the outer garment to shield himself and Henry from the shrapnel of glass.

He braced himself for the jagged onslaught, mentally prepared himself to feel the sharp lacerations to his skin, thinking only to protect Henry. But the pain never came. He looked up hesitantly to see sparkles of light falling around him instead of shards of glass. No longer was he in that underground world of metal, steam, and cranking gears.

He blinked to see a group gathered before him: Snow and her prince, Bae, Regina. The final one lowered her outstretched hands in confusion. Killian stood up and turned to see Emma and her lad standing beside her yellow vessel right before the town line. Pan’s curse . . .

Emma had eyes for him alone; tear-filled eyes. She took moved towards him on unsteady feet, and he met her halfway, clasping her in his arms.

“You found me,” she whispered.

He glanced over her shoulder at Henry. “We both did.”

Killian cupped her face in his hand, and she didn’t pull away. He remembered what she’d said when he told her not a day would go by that he wouldn’t think of her: “Good.” Had that only been a moment ago?

She gave him a slight nod of encouragement, tilting her head up for him. He bent to meet her, their lips touching. This wasn’t like their first kiss. This was tender, full of love and wonder. Their love, new as it was, had broken the curse.

[softkim2]

It Seems my Lonely Days are Through

↳ story header made by yours truly. I do not own the rights to the image used.

» Pairing(s): Number Five & Teen!Vanya Hargreeves 

» Genre(s): Angst, Romance, & Humor

» Warning(s) / Ratings: Swearing / PG-13

» Words: 3.3K

» Summary: ❝Sadly…Just like any other promise…It was made to be broken…❞ Just when Vanya felt that she could rely on Five forever, she knew deep down that he always wanted to time-travel. She just didn't know that he'd say something to their father so soon...

Another day of being left behind. Another point added to her mental scoreboard. Then, this oh so familiar emotion entered her mind. This feeling of being unwanted…unloved…unneeded… No one needed her around. No one wanted her around. And eventually, that feeling became her true companion. Her insecurities heightened. A sad smile became a permanent one. No longer did she wanted to smile because she’s happy but smile to get unwanted questions from a certain someone. Out of all of her siblings, Vanya only cared about having certain judgmental stares from her brother, Five. Ever since he’d grown to trust her with his innermost worries and problems, Vanya didn’t want to disappoint him nor worry him with her own personal issues.

So…just like any other – normal – adolescent…she buried them deep within her psyche and called it a day. As long as Five had someone to vent his problems too, then Vanya was content with bottling up her emotions. Maybe her father giving those pills was a blessing in disguise. It helped suppressed her emotions – her feelings – a lot easier. Though, not enough for her to become this emotionless robot. That’s when Five would raise a few questions and more than likely lash out on either their father, their siblings, or a combination of both. And she didn’t want that. There’s already a tiny riff between Five and her and the rest of the family. She didn’t want it to worsen.

Just like with any family…

They needed each other…

They may not need each other right this moment but eventually they would.

It’s only a matter of seconds…

Taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, Vanya mustered all of her remaining mental strength to compose herself. She took a glance at the clock, knowing that just like the previous days, her siblings would be returning from their afternoon training session shortly. She didn’t want her siblings, specifically Five, to see her cheeks stained with tears. Her eyes almost bloodshot from the number of tears that trickled down the sides of her precious face.

No. She needed to be strong. Unbothered by the constant ridicule and reminder that she’s simply ordinary. There’s nothing special about her.

With a few more breaths. Vanya managed to compose herself. A somber expression appeared on her face as she picked up her violin, that rested against the couch she had been sitting on. She positioned the violin underneath her chin and against her shoulder. Then, she positioned both the bow and her fingers. Her eyes focused on the sheet music before her. With one final breath, releasing any emotions that threatened to spill out, Vanya began playing. The first few notes were light, almost energetic, Then, it became eerie. Practically haunting as the sounds of rushing footsteps echoed throughout the foyer.

Yup. Like clockwork.

“New song?” The violinist heard Klaus ask. A rare interaction whenever he needed a distraction from his ghoulish friends.

The corners of her lips quirked up as Vanya nodded, continuing to play the beautiful musical piece. Shortly, she became lost to the music. This feeling of tranquility consumed her as she executed each section perfectly. Even her brother, Diego, complimented her playing, and that’s extremely rare. He almost never said anything nice to her. Unless Five managed to persuade Diego to apologize for being an asshole.

She’d always appreciate it when Five came to her protection. With him around, she’s able to lower her shields but even then, it didn’t last long. She’d soon remember what her father, Reginald, had discussed with her weeks prior.

“I told you, Number Seven, I do not want you interfering with your siblings training. They already have enough on their minds and do not need their ordinary sister getting in the way…”

God. She honestly lost count how many times she’d been called ordinary by her dear old dad. She could fill up a jar with how much she’d been called that. That’s how bad it was. That’s how much it’s instilled in her precious mind.

She’s just plain…old…

“I know that look. What did our asshole of a father say to you now?” An oh so familiar voice interrupted her train of thought. Her body flinched as she didn’t expect someone to linger around. And because of that, she accidentally played a few sour notes, causing both her and the other person to wince. Their poor ears.

Vanya then removed the violin from her shoulder and hugged it against her chest. She swiveled her body around and came face-to-face with Five. The one sibling she didn’t want to see right this second.

“It’s nothing, Five.” She said shortly before gently placing her violin back in its case and locking it. “I’ll see you at dinner.” She quickly added, brushing past him and heading to her sanctuary. Her safe haven. Her room.

His brows became knitted together. He drew his lower lip between his teeth as confusion glazed over his eyes. He couldn’t help but follow her retreating body, wondering if he had done something to cause such a strange reaction.

Had he unintentionally lashed out on her and forget to apologize? No, because he had been always careful to never take his frustrations on her. Luther and Diego? Yes. Vanya? Never.

Did he forget about an important secret meeting between? Nah. That couldn’t be it as he personally scheduled them with her. He constantly found himself needing her calm presence. Never vice-versa.

So, why did she run away from him? Why did his heart ache a little as she quickly dismissed his act of concern?

Then, thanks to his highly intelligent brain, Five soon realized that it had to do with the monster that they had to unfortunately call, “father”. He felt like an imbecile for not putting the puzzle pieces together sooner. Five wasn’t blind. He knew that there’s indeed a sudden change within Vanya. He just either didn’t have the time to talk to her about it or weren’t able to get some valuable alone time with her. He had been preoccupied with his spatial jump training or working on how to perfect the act of time-travel. Reginald recommended that he practice his spatial jumping, then Five could learn how to time-travel. Yet week after week, Five had yet to see a change in his training regimen. That only pissed him off even more. Now, the icing on the cake was when he noticed a bigger separation between him and Vanya. She’d either be by Reginald’s side or doing her own thing around the time he and the rest of their siblings are training or on a mission.

He rarely had the chance to hang around her and enjoy her presence. Shit. He started to forget how it felt to hug her. How her body fitted perfectly against his. How, right now, they were at a perfect height that complimented one another.

A faint scoff escaped his lips as an amused smirk slowly appeared on his lips. Five found his thoughts to be quite humorous.

“So…this is what a love sick teen feels like…” He thought, shaking his head as he stuffed his hands inside his pockets. Then, his gaze focused on the grandfather clock nearby. He noted the time and quickly calculated if he had enough time to have some much needed one-on-one time with his beloved Vanya.

Luckily…

He did…

Without a second to lose, he activated his spatial jumping, teleporting himself in the hallway that led to his and his siblings’ bedrooms. He remained still; his ears listened for any sounds that could indicate that someone would be leaving their room. Though, he doubted it as his siblings liked to lock themselves away to obtain a moment of peace. They practically spent every single day with each other. A few hours without being in the presence of another wouldn’t kill them.

Five waited a few more seconds before teleporting himself in front of Vanya’s room. Then, just as he raised his hand to politely knock on her door, he heard a sound that he vowed to never hear again…

Vanya’s cries…

To this day, the sassy teen remembered the first time he heard her heartbreaking sobs. It felt like someone got lucky enough to get a clean on him and repeated those punches. His chest tightened whenever he recalled that ”lovely” memory so vividly.

Not wanting to put him and Vanya through this horrendous torture, Five barged right in and slammed the door shut, uncaring if that were to alert his other siblings. If anything, he prayed that they heard, so they could see what their cruel acts and words had done to his Vanya.

No one would be allowed to cause her tears – and this time – he’d do a fucking better job at protecting her.

She’d never have to go through with this alone ever again.

Without saying a word, Five rushed to her side and kneeled in front of her. Just like when he grew enough balls to rest his hand on top of hers, he did it again. His hands grasped hers just as a few tears landed on his hot skin.

His jaw tightened. Her lips quivered. Love and concern flashed in his eyes while hers remained shut as tears continued to fall. She hated herself for reaching this breaking point but after seeing Five and hearing his voice, she just broke. All of her inner desperate pleas came rushing out the gates in the form of sobs.

She hated having to pretend that there’s nothing between them. No friendship. No adoration. Nothing. Not even a blossoming love that’d be considered taboo in the public eye. She had been forbidden to interact with him. Her one source of happiness.

She absolutely despised it, but if it meant that Five would be one step closer to his potential, then so be it. Strangers they would be.

“Vanya…” Her mind registered the softness in his voice. No. No. No. He shouldn’t be in here. If their father caught them – together – like this, then there’d be Hell to pay. No. Five had to leave.

Choking back a few of her sobs, Vanya controlled her breathing, though it’s proven difficult. Her breathing had become incredibly sporadic. Wild.

“You…have…to…go…” She managed to say even though it’s painful to do so.

Five looked taken back. Hurt burned in his eyes. Why was she shutting him out? Just like how she’s there for him, he’s there for her. He’d be her support whenever she felt like giving up.

She had constantly reminded him that she’s there for him. No matter what.

Now…

It’s his turn…

Gently wiping away the tears with his thumbs, Five allowed his hands to remain on her face. His eyes studied her facial expression, also noting her body language, allowing it to relax just a bit before speaking again. He didn’t want to trigger her again.

“Vanya…” He began; his voice almost a whisper, “Talk to me. What’s on your mind?” He asked, concern dripping on every single word.

Vanya remained silent, slightly leaning against his touch. His cold hand felt nice against her warm cheek. Her gaze studied Five’s face, noting how scared yet concern he was. This would be the second time she had seen that gaze. The first time was when he had found her crying her eyes out after she had yet again been ridiculed by her “loving” siblings for being plain. For being boring. She had tucked herself away inside the garden, that’s placed on the roof, and decided to drown out her tears – her sorrows – with her violin. Though, the moment she did, Five managed to find her with ease. His protective instincts were at an all time high after he overheard Diego and Luther saying horrendous things about her, while Allison, Klaus, and Ben laughed. They didn’t bother coming to her aid.

“Assholes…” He called them as he teleported to wherever Vanya held herself up. While, it took several spatial jumps, Five eventually popped up beside her, accidentally freaking her out and causing her to scream. His ear drums were damaged for a few days after that, but he didn’t pay attention because Vanya smiled as she laughed at his face. The snarl and glare on his face for some strange reason was incredibly hilarious in her eyes. Her laughter was highly addicting to the point that Five did everything and anything to recreate that. In that afternoon, he had the chance – the opportunity – to see a carefree Vanya. A side of her that he hadn’t seen in a long ass time.

Now, here he remained kneeling in front of her, offering words of comfort as he did almost everything to get his sweet Vanya to crack a smile. He’d even asked her to play her favorite musical piece for him, but Vanya simply replied with,

“Maybe later…my heart isn’t into it right now…”

Five, then in response, nodded as he said, “Understandable. Sometimes I wish I had that luxury.”

Vanya sniffled, “What do you mean?”

“Just that,” He began as he finally stood up, stretching his leg muscles. Then, he took a seat next to her and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, “You don’t realize this, Vanya, but you’re lucky. You have these amazing chances of taking breaks. Doing everything and anything that your heart desires.” A long sigh escaped his lips, “While with me and the rest of the crime fighting siblings, we don’t. It’s training from sunrise to sundown. And when we’re not training, then it’s those stupid, annoying missions,” He absentmindedly pulled Vanya closer. Her head now rested against the crook of his neck, “While, yes, with our abilities, taking down the bad guys is like an afternoon stroll at the local park. However, doing the same thing over and over gets redundant. Basically boring.” He finished his speech before placing an innocent kiss on her head. Innocent enough it could be seen as an act of sibling love in case their father so happened to stumble on them. With their luck, he’d be right around the corner. Seriously. It’s like Reginald had installed sensors on Vanya’s door and Five’s, alerting him of their so called “canoodling”.

Just thinking about the old man’s lecture frustrated Five to the point that his jaw clenched slightly. Everything that old man did only fueled Five’s innermost hatred towards him.

But that’s not important right now. Vanya’s important and would always be important to him.

Gently rubbing her arm, Five and Vanya remained silent, enjoying each other’s presence. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Vanya pulled back and created some space but not too much since Five still wanted to hold her. Like a little child clinging onto his or her favorite object. An object that gave him or her a sense of security.

That was Vanya. She was his sense of security. She kept his sanity intact while they both lived in that dysfunctional home.

“Thank you, Five.” She said softy with a sweet smile.

One corner of his mouth titled up. Five displayed his signature smirk. A smirk he had developed only for her but not to be confused with his condescending smile. That smile was reserved for his other siblings, minus Ben. Well. It depended if he partook in the ridiculing of Vanya, then, he’d that smirk and his wrath.

But most of the time, it’s usually Diego, Luther, and Allison that got it. How fitting since it’s the top three soldiers in their odd army.

Soon, his smirk grew into a smile. Then, a sweet and light kiss was placed on Vanya’s forehead.

“Anytime, Vanya. You just need to remember that you’re never alone, especially when you think you are. You’re not. You’ll always have me.” He said just as an alarm went off. Time for dinner. With one final reassuring squeeze on her shoulder, Five stood up and then offered his hand. Vanya smiled brightly and placed her hand into his. The moment he felt her hand, he quickly interlaced their fingers. He’d never grow tired with how well their hands molded together.

Recently, they had started to hold hands but only when they’re alone and certain that no one would catch them. One of the many risks that Allison had warned him about months prior. If only her concern lasted, especially towards Vanya.

But…oh well…

“So, I’m thinking of asking dear old dad about time-travel again.” He stated, stuffing his free hand into the pockets of his shorts.

Vanya’s forehead creased. Her jaw tightened slightly. She knew that Five wanted to time-travel, but he never got any practice because their dad would always reject his request. Today, she knew that it’d be his breaking point if their dad were to say no to Five’s request again. And knowing Five, she knew that he’d give in to his short-temper and do something irrational.

Then, she’d be left all alone…

“Are you sure that’s a wise decision? I mean what if he says no?” She asked, stopping right near the stairway but out of sight from the views of their siblings.

Five sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, “If he says no, then I don’t know.” He turned his head towards Vanya, “I’m tired of being told that I’m not ready, especially since I’ve been practicing those stupid spatial jumps like he told me to. I even managed to work out those pesky equations. Like, what more does he want from me?” He ranted; his voice gradually increased in pitch.

Vanya frowned, squeezing his hand in an act of comfort.

“I know but maybe he’s right. Sure, his explanation can be a tad nicer but perhaps he’s onto something. What if you do manage to successfully time-travel but end up somewhere and have no means to come back.” She stated, voicing her worries.

Five cupped her cheek, gently caressing it, “That’s not going to happen, Vanya. After all, I have you waiting for me back here so of course, I’m going to come back. I just want to see if I can do it. Even if it’s a tiny jump in time, I just want to see.” Then, he unlaced their fingers and pulled her into a warm and loving hug, “Then, with more practice, I’ll take you with me, and we’ll be far away from here. No more siblings who bully you. No more dad that constantly berates you for being ordinary. None of them. It’s just going to be the two of us.” He told her, soothing away her worries. Though, she had a point. What if he were to get stuck in a time with no means of getting back? God. Just the mere thought of Vanya growing up without him scared him. Instilled a fear within his mind. Yet he had to push them away. He needed to do this. To try. Then, his future could officially begin.

With one final squeeze, Five released his hold on special violinist. He flashed her a reassuring smile as if he’d told her to not worry about him nor say a word during dinner.

Just as he turned towards the stairs, he felt a tug on his sleeve. He peered down and saw Vanya’s hand stopping him.

He raised a brow, “What’s wrong?”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me that if you were to get stuck somewhere with no means of getting back, that you’d find a way to come back to me.”

Five’s breath hitched. She didn’t need to tell him that. He already knew. He’d do anything and everything to get back to her. His sole reason of even endearing the constant training and annoying siblings that he cared for here and there.

“Promise me, Five.”

“I promise you, Vanya Hargreeves, that I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you.”

Sadly…

Just like any other promise…

It was made to be broken…

“Okay. I’ll be holding you to that, sir.”

“You wound me, dear…”

A/N: Wow! This one is a tad longer than my previous one shot! I just had so much fun writing this one, especially since it kind of goes along with the dinner scene during the flashback scene of episode 2 of the series. I just like how Young Vanya shook her head and then look upset/shock to see Five run out. And then the whole Five screaming out Vanya's name first? Yeah. I just had to write a little something that could add to the fan theories/explanations as to why Five screamed out her name first. Anywho, now that this is done. I'm thinking of doing like a mini-series! Maybe even ask you guys to comment something you'd want to see Five x Vanya do behind closed doors. A funny idea I have right now is Five, giving in to his big ego, proving that he's the better protector than Luther, and the two have this weird competition while Reginald is away. So that should be fun! disclaimer: Now, I'm fully aware of the discourse between whether the Hargreeves are considered to be engaging in incestuous relationships or not (I especially acknowledge the arguments coming from people who are indeed from adopted families). I also know that the fandom will always be divided because of it so please do not send any hate comments on this story. If it is not your cup of tea, then do not read it. Simple as that. Anyway, I hope you guys like this!

Don’t forget to leave a kudos/comment on your thoughts! I love hearing them! :)

- Kim

[dp-pastandpresent]

Past and Present: Chapter 25

"Remind me again why I'm wearing this thing?" Danny asked into his headset.

"Because your powers are too weak to go in unprotected," Maddie's voice of reason answered back.

"I think they're strong enough to not need a full-on metal bodysuit," Danny mumbled.

"I heard that!" Jack's voice came through. "I'll have you know, Danny, that the Fenton Ghost Armor is a state-of-the-art battle suit, equipped to protect even the weakest human inside the Ghost Zone. It has built-in trackers, sensors, weapons, guns, ecto-shields…."

Danny turned down the volume on his headset as Jack rambled on about all the powers his body suit had.

'My powers feel stronger than ever after that last memory; I can't believe they're making me wear this thing!'

After his most recent revelation – a memory he had not recalled until that day – Danny had returned to his ghostly form, the amulet around his neck glowing stronger than ever as ectoplasmic energy pulsed through his body. It was that moment that the group knew what they had to do and had decided to send Danny into the Ghost Zone. But to his dismay, they had insisted upon the bodysuit as a backup.

While Danny knew he needed communication with the outside world to make sure he knew where to go, he didn't feel the full-blown suit was really necessary.

"Danny? Danny!"

Danny came out of his reverie as he turned the volume back up to better hear Tucker's voice.

"The GZPS navigation on this thing says there's a door up ahead. Should be large, purple, and ornate with cog designs. Take it when you find it!"

"GZPS?"

"Ghost Zone Positioning System, remember? We discussed this how many times?" Tucker's voice sounded annoyed as he rambled off yet another definition, not for the first time today.

"Sorry Tuck. I don't speak 2017, remember?"

"Fine, fine, fine. Just open the big door when you come to it and go inside."

The speaker clicked off and Danny was alone in his thoughts for a bit as he floated through the Zone. Everything around him was green or purple, and it all had a faint glow. He remembered bits and pieces from when Clockwork had brought him back, but it had all been so fast that he hadn't a chance to really take in the actual creepiness of this place.

A shiver ran down his back as he flew past a floating door with several eyeballs lining the outside, each one blinking right at him.

"At least I'm not supposed to go through that one…" he said quietly as he looked back at the blinking eyes.

CRASH!

"Hey! Watch it whelp!"

He had been so busy following the blinking eyes, he hadn't even seen the ghost in front of him until they crashed into each other. Floating back and rubbing his head, he looked up to find himself face to face with the barrel of a large ecto-gun.

'Ohhhhh crap.'

--

"My sensors are indicating that Danny has stopped. I'm not sure why. He hasn't gotten to the door yet," Tucker said to the Fentons as he turned away from the screen.

"Maybe he needed a break?" Maddie offered.

"Or maybe he ran into a ghost!" Jack boomed, excitement brimming on his face. "Tucker, call in and find out!"

"I already tried that, Mr. Fenton. It seems that Danny turned off his headpiece."

"Just when things were getting good…" Jack pouted.

"Now Jack. No one said he even ran into a ghost…" Maddie said, trying to hide her worry and be strong for them both.

"His vitals are going down!" Tucker said loudly as he returned to the screen.

On one side, the map they had from the medallion was open. On the other was an app connected to Danny's suit. While they had told him that they wanted him wearing it for protection, they hadn't mentioned it could track his vitals too, for fear of him refusing.

Jack ran to the computer, practically pushing Tucker out of the way.

"It must be a ghost! He's in his first battle and we're missing it!"

'What is this, a rescue mission or a Pokémon game?' Tucker thought as he rolled his eyes.

"Hold up Jack, he's fine, look! His heart rate is steadying. I'm sure he'll turn on his communication and be on his way soon."

--

"Anyone who bangs into Skulker like that will find their pelt on my wall!" the ghost roared, his gun pointing right at Danny.

Danny's mind was racing as he tried to find a solution to his newest problem

'No soup container here. Just me, my hands, and this suit. Gotta try something!'

"Hold on. It was an… an… accident. Maybe we can talk this through? Over coffee sometime?" Danny tried to joke.

"You wish whelp! I am Skulker, the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter, and I do not discuss things over coffee!"

'Worth a shot.'

"Well, then I guess you don't like heat!"

With that, Danny raised his hands and found a ghost ray being emitted from within the robotic suit, much stronger than he had ever produced alone.

'WOAH!'

The ray hit the ghost in the chest, sending him flying backwards to bang against a nearby door. Taken off guard, he floated there for a moment in a daze.

'Think. Now what?'

But before he could do much else, the ghost looked up at him, revelation shown clearly on his face.

"YOU."

Once again taken aback, Danny just blinked.

"They've been talking about you. Ember. Technus. Even that stupid lunch lady. You're the… the… one."

Skulker's eyes got big as he talked, as if he'd suddenly found himself in the presence of greatness.

'The one? The one what? Why is it that people keep hiding things from me?'

"The one who lives outside. Walks among the humans like a fool." He started to regain his senses a bit of green drool on his lips as he snarled the last word.

"No ghost has ever voluntarily CHOSEN to live with humans. It's insane. They never accept us. Never give us a chance to explain. But you, you're different somehow…"

'I'm nice…'

Danny floated , watching as the ghost in front of him came closer, afraid of what would happen if he raised his guns again.

"Why?"

Danny blinked and shook his head.

"Why? Why did you choose to live there?" He was serious as he said this, but the amount of time it was taking Danny to answer gave Skulker more time to think, and he began to raise his gun again.

"And more importantly, why are you choosing to defeat us, your kin?

'Kin? Really?'

Danny put his hand on his chest and floated backwards, taken aback by the last comment.

"Excuse me? Last I checked, my family was all out there," he gestured in the direction he'd come from, "left behind when I died."

It was Skulker's turn to act surprised.

"You remember them!?" His green eyes got wide again as he lowered his gun, but only slightly.

"Of course. Don't you remember anyone you left behind?"

'I mean, we all had to leave someone, right?'

"Ha! I, Skulker, the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter, am nothing more than formed ectoplasm. I never walked that pathetic realm you call Earth, and even if I had, I doubt that I would have left anyone behind worth caring about."

'Oh yea, I do remember something about some ghosts just being formed out of ectoplasm. I wonder how many though?'

Before Danny could say more, Skulker continued.

"But even Ember, one of the strongest human-born ghosts I've met, doesn't remember anything beyond her desire to move on."

Danny shook his head, trying to comprehend everything he was hearing.

'Ghosts of humans don't usually remember their past?'

Danny was in shock: he was learning more from a random stranger than he had ever learned from his so-called "Mentor." And with each new revelation, he found his desire to find Clockwork and Sam becoming stronger. He knew he needed to keep moving, but this ghost had answers, and Danny was afraid of what may happen if he tried to escape.

"Listen buddy, I don't know why I have these memories or connections, but I do know that I need to find Clockwork. He has a friend of mine, plus some answers I need now more than ever. Can we just call a truce and move on?"

Skulker shivered at the mention of Clockwork, despite being used to the natural cold of the Zone.

"Don't say that name."

"Clockwork?"

"Clockwork is the one who determines our fate and our destinies. Who goes, who stays... We only see him when he needs something, but he always sees us and the things we do. No one dares defy him;The only ones who try and take him on always regret it."

"I am not taking him on! He brought me back, and now he has my friend. I just need answers!"

'Seriously dude…'

To Danny's surprise, the ghost put his guns away.

"I'm not going to stop you, but I doubt you'll make it much farther. His door is up there, but you won't be able to get in. No one can without a time amulet, and he doesn't go handing those out to just anyone, believe me I know" Skulker smirked at this, as if happy at the boy's failure. "Once and a while a few trouble makers sneak in, but they never last long."

'Last long? Can ghosts die again?'

Danny gulped before he said, "Gee thanks." He began to head towards the door, but before he could get far, he heard a clicking of a gun and turned to face the ghost.

While the gun was pointed at Danny, he didn't fire. He only smiled.

"Consider this your warning. I won't shoot you today, but I won't stop hunting you either. After all, I collect the rare and valuable, and one like you is definitely both."

He put the gun down again and turned to fly away.

Sighing relief, Danny flew forward, examining doors as he went. Finally, he came to the one he needed – big, ornate, and covered in cogs.

'Maybe he's right, maybe I can't get in?'

As he got closer, he noticed no typical types of security blocking his way. In fact, the door seemed shockingly normal beyond its decorations.

'So, what, do I knock?'

He reached for the knob and turned. To his surprise, it came open with no problem. It was what he saw after it opened that took him off guard.

A transparent blue film filled the space of the door, almost like an electric field keeping him from entering. Willing to bet this is what Skulker meant, he wondered if he would be able to step inside without hurting himself.

'Maybe I'm immune? Maybe my powers mean I don't need his stupid amulet?'

He gulped again, closed his eyes and flew into the opening.

--

Tucker was still in the lab, waiting patiently as the dot that represented Danny refused to move and Danny's coms didn't turn on. While the ghost boy's heartbeat had returned to normal, Tucker had to wonder if something was up.

He hadn't known Danny personally for very long, and as such, it had been hard for him to agree to sending him into the zone to find Sam. But it was Sam that had convinced him; he knew her well and knew that Danny would be the only one capable of truly rescuing her.

'Wait till she's safe, then give her the lecture on being more careful about who she dates.' He chuckled to himself.

The Fentons had gone upstairs to check on Sarah and grab a bite to eat, having gotten sick of waiting, so Tucker found himself alone at the computer.

'I wonder how protected the things on here are…'

He left both apps open in a corner as he looked around the desktop, curiosity getting the better of him.

'Family photos?'

He skimmed through the same photos that Danny had found before, stopping to laugh at how outdated all the clothes were back then.

'Bellbottoms and button-downs… wow.'

Noticing there wasn't much more on the desktop beyond Jack's game downloads and a few mostly empty folders, Tucker tried to stay patient. But, being the tech-geek-hacker he was, he felt like there was more he could be doing with his skills, and quickly found himself in the computer's mainframe search engine.

'Might as well see what they knew about this Clockwork dude while I wait.'

He typed in the word Clockwork too see what he could find, and to his surprise, multiple folders popped up, all with little locks in the corner.

'Password protected, of course.'

'Ghost bios. Ghost Zone known history. Resurrection speculations. Even when I figure out the password, where does a person even begin?'

Before he could decide, however, a ping came from his open apps, and Danny's voice came through the speakers.

"Tucker? Tucker? I'm sorry! I turned off the communicator and then I ran into a ghost and — and… you there?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Tucker turned on the com on his end.

"I'm here and I hear you loud and clear! Did you find the door?"

"Yea but I didn't think I'd make it in. There was some sort of shield blocking my way!"

'Back to square one?'

"But you did?" Tucker asked.

"Yea! It was weird. I just went right through like I didn't need a key or anything? I wonder if my connection to Clockwork is what allowed it?"

"Well, let's not question it, and keep going!" Tucker answered, ready to be back on track, "What do you see?"

Well…I think I still have a ways to go. This part of the Zone is different. Definitely Clockwork's, but I barely remember it. Floating cogs all over, shrinking and growing as a watch.! Making me dizzy. It's like a huge maze."

"Hold on, let me check this map."

Tucker minimized his search, making a mental note to return, and clicked into the ghostly map. To his surprise, the dot representing Danny had changed.

"Phantom? Are you floating in one spot right now? You will not believe what I'm seeing!"

The coms began to crackle as connections faded in and out.

"Tucker, you're losing the point. I don't have all day!"

"What point, dude? I haven't said anything."

"Houston?" Danny's voice came through.

'When did I mention that?'

"It's Danny, remember?" the voice replied, a little frustration coming through as well. "But yea, I'm just floating here, waiting for your instructions captain."

"Haha captain. Well Houston, we have a problem," Tucker said as déjà vu hit him.

When nothing but static returned from the other end, Tucker added, "Can you hear me now?"

"Houston?" came Danny's voice gain."YES. HOUSTON, as in NASA…" Tucker was growing angry now. Not only were Danny's words confusing, he was beginning to repeat himself. "Ohhhhhhh wait, you died before space exploration. Sorry!"

'Doesn't explain why he isn't responding right away though…'

Suddenly the coms were clear, and Danny's voice rang through.

"I tried floating towards one of the clouds, and when I got closer it just vanished! I've seen some crazy stuff in here, but never this!"

This time it was Tucker's turn to keep silent.

"Tucker!?"

"Ack! Sorry! So, your dot is here, and the map changed to show your location. But the map, it's gotta be glitched or something. It keeps moving your dot to different parts of the screen, like you're teleporting around. But then when you moved just now, your dot stood still. Like things are reversed. It seems impossible, but…"

"I'm a ghost. I'm currently in a Ghost Zone. There are glowing cogs around me. Nothing is impossible," Danny replied dryly, then added, "But space exploration!? Really? That sounds amazing!"

"Wait! What's this?" Tucker leaned into the computer, his glasses touching the screen as he read some very small writing.

'T.I.M.E. stands still for no one'

The coms started crackling again as Danny's voice came through without a prompt.

"I haven't moved since the first time. I'm afraid of what might happen until you know more."

"I didn't say anything, but now that you mention it, are you floating still again?"

Tucker watched the screen as Danny's dot continued to jump around.

The speakers crackled again as Danny's voice broke in and out.

"Houston?"

'Seriously dude…'

As he said this, Tucker's eyes darted from the writing back to the large map, and he noticed hazy cloud shapes scattered around, almost blending in with the background. Each shape was made up of numbers, constantly increasing. He watched as Danny's dot moved from cloud to cloud, and began to put the pieces together.

"Well, I may know a little bit more. How much do you know about Clockwork's realm?

The coms became clear as Danny's voice responded.

"Not much. Apparently not all can enter, only those with special permission. And when he brought me back he warned me about the consequences of leaving on my own. He always made sure he was with me. Something about getting lost in time."

Things clicked as Tucker continued to watch the numbers increase.

'Fading out. Speaking out of order. Increasing numbers…'

"Man. I have a feeling you aren't in the present anymore."

--

"The Island of Lost Time?" he asked, looking up at the purple hooded figure.

"Yes. My home within the Ghost Zone. This is where I watch over all that come and go." The ghost gestured around the room, as if to show off the space.

But the boy was too shaky to care about how impressive it was.

"So, we're… I'm? A ghost? But why?"

"I wish I had a better answer," the ghost responded with a grin, "but simply put, I need your help."

"My help? But I barely remember my name. How can I…"

"Stop boy! Just stop! And listen!" His eyesglared red as he grew older, causing Danny to once again jolt back in fear.

Seeing the fear in the boy's face, Clockwork let his eyes dampen and turned to a large screen on a wall. It suddenly lit up with an overhead view of a city.

"Amity Park. Seems pretty quaint, right? Do you remember anything?"

"I… I… I think I lived there?" Danny racked his brain as he found himself rising to his feet and taking shaky steps to join the ghost at the screen.

"Yes! I remember! That's where I was born! Where I grew up! Where I…. died." He lowered his voice at this last one.

"Oh good, more memories are coming back. I knew they would in time." Clockwork grinned again, as if hiding a secret.

"But why is Amity Park so important?" Danny asked.

The screen flipped to another scene, this one of a large metal room. The angle of the recording showed two figures standing in front of some large doors. The two watched as the woman grabbed a large plug and put it in an outlet. And then… nothing happened. Both figures looked dismayed at this.

"Meet Jack and Maddie Fenton. They've been working to create an opening to our world for some time now, but haven't been able to open it up."

'Fenton? Why does that feel familiar?'

"What does that have to do with me?" Danny asked, feeling as though he was missing something important.

"I believe you, son, are the key. The one who will be able to open it. I just need to send you through." Clockwork turned young again as he said this, looked the boy directly in the eyes.

Danny shuttered, feeling more and more scared by the moment.

"Me? I don't… I don't know anything about anything."

"It's ok, I'll train you. Make sure you're ready. We have a few days. That event you just saw? It isn't supposed to happen until next week."

"Next week? You mean you can see the future?" Danny's eyes got big at this revelation.

The ghost just laughed.

"The future. The past. The present. My boy, I can see it all…" He stopped, wanting to go on, but realizing that he was already giving up too much information to a ghost child whose mind was still new.

"We'll just leave it at that. You need your rest, let your mind rest for a while." The ghost turned off the screen and began to float away, back to his own chamber. But not before looking back at the young boy before him.

"Stay here, relax. But please, don't leave this room. You'll find my realm is not so forgiving. You see, time doesn't stand still here, and without my guidance, you may get lost." A toothy grin formed on his face as he turned into a child and disappeared, leaving poor Danny to shiver in fear.

[silverdawere]

Not Us Again [2]

Not Us Again [2]

Word count: 1,046

Content warnings: minor mentions of anxiety 

Protagonist[s]: Endastrios 

||| ||| |||

He grew from that moment on, from a child of his house into a man of a nation, of a boy of 16 into a man of 17. Not much difference, he knew, but in the course of a year, Endastrios learned more than he had in a lifetime. The future, the future was all that mattered. Not Tal'tali, not Breth-both of them were dead, literally and figuratively, respectively. In the span of a short year, Endastrios evolved from the apprehensive youngster he was, into a cold, callous King. It was a transformation so drastic, the Maeyorim had no remembrance of the child he was that fall. In honesty, he quite preferred it that way. His new reputation was one he took very seriously, and he formed a wall of paint and silk around his clockwork core. In it was in the time that he grew, he recalled a particular morning, one he now realized he should have regarded with caution. Endastrios sat outside this morning, far from the safe council of Brohomah and the palace, far out into the forest, in a place he found welcoming deep inside the isle’s wood. Why this place called to him, he didn’t know. It was upon a flat, cold stone he sat, with trees all around him, birds chattering away-maybe that was it, the stone. He spent several hours just sitting there, meditating in the welcome retreat of his own mind. It was something he was grateful for, alone time. The last few days had been dreadful and hectic, chaotic and far too much for him to comprehend at once. He awoke with anxiety that morning, though he didn’t know exactly why, and took the opportunity to sneak out into his hiding place. Endastrios inhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. Yes, this place was a blessing. Unfortunately for him, he’d been found, insects sent scurrying away from the bushes, the young king’s eyes cracking open in annoyance at the chuckling figure who emerged.

“Good morning! I been lookin’ for you!” It called.

Endastrios’ response was a mumble, audibly tired. “Morning, Morgan.” His  eyes closed once more. Again, Endastrios’ lungs pushed air from them, though this time with more effort.

“Morgan-as to you, your highness! How you been? Look at you, how big you done gone and grown!” Morgan laughed, waving a finger in Endastrios’ direction. He, with flourish of his arm, sat beside the shorter boy, bringing his arm to wrap around his shoulders. His pale, deeply sunken eyes taking a good look at him, smile on his face. “Never have I seen a king so young.”

Endastrios’ face scrunched, his golden eyes narrowing. “Never has there been a king to see.” Endastrios tutted, slipping out of Morgan’s grasp, “Never have I seen a god with so much hair.”

“Well,” Morgan said, breathy, “I’m not a god yet. Soon though.” He chuckled awkwardly, stuttering and stumbling over his words, before pointing past Endastrios’ head. “You have a visitor, Breth, look.” 

And Endastrios did, to see the image of someone rather unfamiliar. He turned his head back to Morgan, only to see air and nothing more. In what felt like the span of a blink, the beat of his heart, sat a stranger. They said nothing, simply tilting their head.

...well that made him uneasy. A long silence passed between them, until Endastrios could handle it no longer. “Can I help you?” 

“Oh certainly. The king should always help his people. Is that not right?”

“I’m sorry? Yes, of course, I-”

“I was at the council. I’m a child of the North, my father was the elder who gave you your title, Endastrios. My name is Nahtalgan.” They place a hand to their chest, almost friendlily. The look in their eye, it should have frightened him, yet it made him want to listen. It was some malevolent amiability that Endastrios had yet to understand, that he thought he never would.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance. What do you need?” If this Nahtalgan found him, then surely he’d need something done. Everyone needed something these days. Perhaps that was the pessimist in him, he considered.

Nahgaltan shook his head. “Just wanted to know when the funeral was, princey.” He gave the young king a look that was far too smug, a smirk on Nahgaltan’s lips. “Hmm? Pottoeno la ashlinaag?”

“You think they’d have a funeral for you?” Endastrios hissed, his hands intertwined in his lap, though his face remained blank. He revealed slightly in the expression of disappointment on the other Maeyorim’s face, though he kept his eyes low. 

Nahgaltan’s gaze was a heated one, an odd pause in his speak before he spoke again. “Funny.” He shrugged, then, his movements staggered. “But you’re probably right. I don’t think they would. After all, they chose some sixteen year old kid to lead them, instead of me. But don’t worry,” He said, “I got people in my corner, too.” The noble boy paused, his brown, curious eyes lingering on Endastrios’ shovel like horns for a moment, reaching to his bare head. The boy shook his head, bringing his hands together. A crocked smile shone on his lips, his index finger upon them, turning on his heel. The other, younger man watched with mild confusion, his mouth agape.

“Nice chat!” Endastrios called as he watched this stranger move on back into the woods. He sighed, closing his eyes and crossing his legs. He breathes, slowly, listening closely to the birds, quietly hoping they’d just be quiet again.

“Well he’s an odd one, ain’t he?”

And there was Morgan, right on time.

“Do you ever just sort of, haunt anyone else?” “I don’t haunt you, Breth. You’re my buddy.” “Right, well. That’s unfortunate.” Morgan’s lips curl downwards into a frown, and he huffs. He doesn’t say anything else, though, standing and dusting off his dark, soot grey cloak. He offers a hand to Endastrios that’s rejected and ignored, Morgan’s large bull horns caught by twigs as his headshakes in disappointment. “S’all right buddy, I know you’re stressed.” “I am not stressed.” Morgan goes to speak once more, but closes his mouth. He gestures without meaning, before leaving back the way he came, glancing over his shoulder to his friend as he went.

[doublesidedpan]

black sun, white moon (alternatively, of monsters, swords, and colors)

Pairing: Kurosaki Ichigo/Kuchiki Rukia Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Genre: Magic Realism/Urban Fantasy Word Count: ~4600 Author's Note: very loosely based on the characters and events of the substitute shinigami arc. the use of artistic freedom may cause a difference between the attitudes of the original characters and the characters of this story. some dialogue has been lifted directly from episodes 1 and 2 of the anime.

All his life, he’s known one thing. That one thing is this – everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate. (He doesn’t really care; nobody really needs color, anyway. Even without it, the world goes on like clockwork.)

Violet It’s the first color he sees when she slides into his monotonous life. Jumps inside his window on a January night, actually, would be a more accurate phrasing. There’s a monster lurking somewhere, and she’s been tasked to go after it. Or so she says. (Though for the record, he has no clue what the hell she’s talking about.) But the first thing he mutters is this:

“Why can I see the color of your eyes?”

(It doesn’t occur to him until much later that he’s seen the most vibrant shade of violet possible.)

Red The first splash of blood nearly startles him into shock. So that’s how it looks like. There was a monster, just not one that he was expecting. He couldn’t believe that he was actually seeing this but – no. Get it together. She was still here, wounded, barely able to fight, and all because of him. Because the monster was near his house, the monster was near his family, and he may not be much but he is a son and a brother, and in his stupidity, he’d thrown himself in between the monster and their front door with every intent of protecting his father and his sisters. But she was faster.

“Idiot! What made you think you could face that thing yourself?!” She props herself against a road post, her breaths ragged and shallow.

He’s speechless – he’s stupid, he knows, but he’s impulsive, and his family is one of the only things he’s cared for in this world of routine. “Please”, he begs, “you have to help me save them.”

She stares at him in deep thought, but only for a while because the thing roars in fury, and he fervently hopes to God that this was just some stupid dream, there’s no way his family would actually die, none of this could be real, it can’t be God please –

She pulls out her sword, a sleek, wicked-looking thing that she’d used to slash at the creature even as it had her between its teeth. It had staggered away, limping, but somehow he knew that its first taste of blood would draw it back soon. “Then I must give you the means to protect them.” She holds the sword steady until the point is square at his chest, the cold metal prodding unflinchingly towards the skin behind his shirt and no, there’s absolutely no way she’s thinking what he’s thinking because it makes absolutely no sense at all, why can’t she just give him the damn sword –

She must’ve guessed what he’s thinking because she shakes her head weakly. “It doesn’t work like that.” Her grip on the hilt tightens. “This is the only way. And if it fails, then it won’t matter because we’ll both be dead.”

He hesitates.

The he breathes once.

Twice.

There’s a second, chilling roar, followed by a shrill scream, and this time, his eyes set with a steely fire. Carefully, he wraps his hands on hers. . .

. . . and guides the sword through his heart.

The world disappears in a flash of blinding light.

Black He’s familiar with this color. Of course, he’d see it again. It was familiarity, it was comfort, it was a reassurance that everything was alright. That he was dreaming. That maybe the dullness of repetition had caused his imagination to become too active to the point that he had conjured up a girl in dark robes with a sword in her hands and a monster to slay. He scoffs at himself. Some dream. Still, the sight of colors for the first time leaves a painful pang in his chest.

He doesn’t really care, he tells himself. Nobody really needs color, anyway.

(He wakes up with a jolt to violet eyes and a family that knows nothing about a monster from the previous night. There’s an ocean of emotions roiling inside him, but he keeps his mouth shut and simply tells his father and his sisters that his class would be starting soon.)

Grey The rough hilt of her sword – wait, it’s not hers anymore, it’s his – feels heavy in his palm. What’s worse is that he hasn’t even unsheathed the stupid thing yet. He grits his teeth, looking onward as the boy trips on his shoelaces, leaving him defenseless in the path of the charging monster.

Since that fateful night, she’d been everywhere, his school or his home, as she kept insisting that he take over her duties since she was “still too injured to even try to fight, I mean, what the hell were you thinking when you did that?” It was embarrassing, how his friends would fawn about how quickly he’d fallen for the new transfer student (what strings she pulled, he doesn’t even want to know) or how his father would tearfully rejoice about how he’d finally have grandkids (whatever that was supposed to mean).

Three days later found them both on the school balcony, his hands in his pockets and her hands on a phone.

“I told you, I’ll be damned if I ever fought something like that again!”

“That’s absurd. Three nights ago, you fought magnificently!” He shrugged his shoulders. To be honest, he can’t even recall what truly happened the moment after he’d helped her plunge her sword into his chest. All he remembers is how it felt like liquid power had flowed into his veins, helping him wield the weapon in his hands as if he’d done it a thousand times before. And then. . .

Darkness.

“I only did it because my family was attacked.” He looked away, hands fidgeting. I’m not even sure if I’m still dreaming right now. “Not to be cruel, but I don’t think I could fight for total strangers.” He was a son and a brother, and sometimes he was a friend. But he wasn’t much apart from that.

“How –” The air around them chilled to a horrific rate. Violet eyes firmly met his own as the bloodcurdling roar of a monster pierced the air. Again? No way. . .

She quickly turned on her heel, head bowed and shoulders hunched as she sought out the creature’s trail. “Let’s go.”

For some reason, he didn’t argue.

“Hey, did you hear me?!” Her voice cuts through his reverie. He hasn’t seen it yet, but he’s pretty sure his hands are raw and red from how tightly he’s gripping the hilt of the sword. As soon as they’d come to the park, a little boy had burst from the trees running, a monster in hot pursuit. He was just about ready to slay it himself until, until –

She had stayed his hand.

“Stop!”

He whips his head towards her, enraged. “What?”

“Why should you save this boy?”

. . .What?

“Why should you save him? This child is a total stranger, right?” The hilt feels as if it would break any second in his grip.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He raises his voice, acid in his words as he practically shouts at her. There’s a bitter taste behind his tongue as he finally unsheathes his sword, order or no order. “That doesn’t mean I can’t just not save him! Not when he’s being attacked right in front of me!” He can feel it now, a strange fire in the pit of his stomach that’s rising faster than he can tell, spreading to his limbs and filling it with the desire to protect. His feet shift as he prepares to raise his sword. . .

One.

Two.

“Don’t you dare be selfish!”

All the air is knocked from his lungs in a single, crucial moment. He freezes.

Selfish?

“You should be fair to everyone!” In a haze, he could hear the boy’s cries as the latter struggles to get up, still out of range of the monster’s reach, and maybe it’s the stupid soul bond that they have, but his feet refuse to move no matter how much he wills them to despite knowing that every second he stays here listening to her is wasted –

Stop it!

“Do you think this work is that convenient for you? You wanted power to protect your family, and I gave that to you. Wanting to save only those you can reach, only those you can see. . .now that you have the means to protect, do you think you can do that?!” There’s barely a few meters between the boy and the creature now, and he knows for sure that if he doesn’t step in right now goddamnit –

“Don’t save that boy!”

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

“If you do, then be prepared to save everyone that needs your help! Be prepared to save them even if it means sacrificing yourself!” The fire is no longer just a fire now, it’s an inferno that’s engulfing him entirely and it’s furious and . . . and . . .

And in one graceful move, he leaps, slashing cleanly through the monster’s face before landing right next to the frightened boy. The monster bounds away, wounded, but he’s seen enough now to know that it would take one more strike to end it all. And try as he might, he can’t help but see the impressed glint in her eyes when he raises his face.

“So. . .are you ready?”

He twists his wrist resolutely, the sharp edge facing him as his reflection gleams on the blade. It dawns on him then, how stupid that question was. How stupid he was, because the answer to all her questions were as clear as the fire that was consuming him.

“I sure as hell ain’t!”

“. . .what?”

There’s that same, blazing determination in his eyes as he soldiers on, oblivious to her stunned gasp. “What makes you any different?” He turns his back to her, ready for the killing strike. End this now. “The other night, you risked your neck to save me. Were you thinking about your duty, then? Or did you do it because you wanted to do it as a person?” He encourages that fire, basks in its warmth. “If I’m doing this, it’s because I want to, not because it’s a damn job!” He breaks into a sprint before swinging down the sword in a final, deadly arc of metallic grey, the ripping sound of steel cutting into flesh echoing in the air.

The monster falls, then melts away into ashes.

He breathes once. Twice.

“I’m going home. See you tomorrow.”

(She was three things today.

She was right – he should be ready to save those who would need him. She was also wrong – it wasn’t because it was his duty, at least not just because of that, but because he wanted to save. But most of all, she was a spark. She’d awakened something within him, something he’d always felt inside of him but never truly acknowledged in a mundane world that made it difficult to care. The desire to speak for those who couldn’t speak for themselves. The desire to fight for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.

He may not be much, but today, he is three things too. He is a son and a brother. Now, he is also a protector.)

Orange Somehow, she’s wormed her way into his life, he thinks as they watch the sunset together. It shouldn’t be at all that surprising, really. In school, she’s a classmate. At home, she’s a neighbor. (She’s managed to rent out a room in the small but decent building right across the street from him. If anybody thinks about how curious it was that she was almost never seen without him and he was never really anywhere without her, they don’t say anything.) In the battlefield, she’s a mentor. But to him, personally. . .

What was she? He leans against the railings of the school balcony and looks on as the sun sets the sky ablaze, brilliant shades of pink, red, and orange painting the world in a masterpiece that he didn’t know was possible. That’s all it takes to push his mind back to several weeks ago, when he’d unearthed an unbelievable strength within himself. A fire.

He flexes his fingers, calloused now and uncomfortable without the hilt of a sword in its grasp. It’s been weeks too, since he’d first seen the likes of her, since he’d first held a sword in his hand, and since he’d first slain a monster.

You know how your life changes, but nobody really sees it? How different it is now, but how it feels like you were meant to do this the entire time?

Maybe that’s why he hasn’t turned himself in yet – to the hospital or the police, whichever. Were they both losing their minds? Did shared delusions actually exist? His family had no idea they were about to die that night, while news reports stated that it was a large truck that had rammed into their house that caused all that damage. The boy in the park – a supposed eyewitness swore that it was a freak explosion caused by nearby gas pipes. “It was pure luck that these two were there when it happened. God knows I wasn’t fast enough to get to that kid.”

(Although a few days after the incident, they both found the little boy again in the park, this time with his mother. It didn’t take very long for the boy to run up to him and whisper in his ear.

“Thanks for making the monster go away, mister.”)

His gaze gravitates toward her as she sits serenely on a stone stairway. And then there’s the whole soulmate bond to worry about.

“Hey.”

(“Where’d you say you were from, again?”

“Far away from here. Trust me, the commute isn’t something you’re going to enjoy.”

“. . .fair enough.” Silence. “Are there other. . .you know. . .” He trails off, the thought still too ridiculous to actually voice aloud.

She hums in response. “Mmhmm.” There’s a beat. He waits.

“Well?”

She huffs in annoyance. “You’re really nosy, you know that?” Still she stretches her arms, crossing them behind her head before leaning on them. “Everyone’s like me. Where I’m from, that is.” She raises her eyebrows as if to end the discussion. “Is that good enough for you?”

This time, it’s his turn to huff. “Fine, fine, I get it. Mysterious girl with a sword and all that. Don’t want to ruin your image.”

She laughs at that, and that warmth that radiates from the center of his chest quirks his lips into a soft smile.)

“What?”

He pauses, drinking her in as the most dazzling bursts of color bathe her entirely. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Could she see it too?

There’s too many things he wants to say all at once, all of them fighting for the way out, but the one thing he says is this:

“Let’s go home.”

She smiles.

“Ok.”

Blue It’s way too early for this bullshit, he thinks as he slices through another monster. Today, the clear afternoon sky is peaceful, and the scene in front of him is anything but.

It was a good thing everyone had cleared out before the real fight had begun. Five down, one more to go.

“Behind you!” He hears rather than sees the giant claw headed right for him, dashing out of the way just as it lands with a heavy thud on the spot he’d stood on a split second before. Opening – strike through left arm. He springs to the side, turning at the last second before cutting through the monster’s left arm. There’s red everywhere. With both hands on the hilt and all the strength he could muster, he thrusts the blade as deeply as he could into the monster’s belly, uncaring of the way it squirms futilely or of the blood that splatters on his face and clothing.

Pathetic.

Serves you right.

The creature wails one last pitiful scream as it disintegrates into a pile of dust. Satisfied, he takes one steady step in her direction . . . right before his knees give in and he surrenders to exhaustion.

“No!”

Damn it. That was a lot more difficult than he thought it would be. He could feel her small hands trying desperately to block the flow of blood from the gash on his arm, and despite his best efforts, he sneers. He was barely the problem here.

“Don’t,” he mumbles, the ground before him giving way to his blade as he throws his weight against it. “Just don’t. Please.”

Her hands falter.

Bloodlust.

They both knew how close he was to losing her today. In a strange reversal of events, she’d found herself on the opposite end of the monster’s rampaging path, weaponless and vulnerable. She’d been all too ready to go down fighting – he’d seen it in her eyes – and the cold, suffocating fear that squeezed around his heart told him he couldn’t bear to let that happen. The red had seeped into his vision without him knowing it, as he hacked and slit and cleaved with no care at all, not even when sharp fangs snapped at his arm with a sickening crunch. No logic, no pain. Simply the basic instinct to kill.

His hand trembles on the hilt of his sword.

“Why?” she whispers, her voice thick with disbelief. Sadness too, he thinks.

“Because. . .” Because we’re comrades, because we’re soulmates, because even if you barreled into my life without any warning, I don’t think I could stand to see you die.

“Because you’re my friend,” he says. “You’re my friend,” he repeats, and he doesn’t know if he imagines the flicker of disappointment that crosses her face. (He doesn’t know, either, if he repeated himself for her sake or for his.)

He looks up.

The clear afternoon sky coaxes his thoughts into words.

“I don’t think I could stand to see you die.”

She says nothing, choosing instead to wrap his arm around her neck and her arm on his waist to shoulder his weight.

(This time, he doesn’t imagine how tight her grip on his hip is nor the caress of her thumb on his hand. He definitely doesn’t imagine how she whispers those same words back to him when she thought he wasn’t listening.)

Green He takes her to a field just outside of the city, random clusters of trees dotting rolling fields that stretched out as far as the eye could see. It’s so tranquil and pleasant, in fact, that he falls right onto the picnic blanket the first chance that he gets. “Quiet, isn’t it?”

She sighs contentedly in agreement. It’s been a week since the last attack, and more than a few days since the term ended. It was then that he’d announced, loudly and almost irritatingly, that a break was in order. And so he’d arranged it with his father and his sisters, who had all been too welcoming of the fact that his new “friend” would be joining them. (He staunchly ignores whatever suggestive winks or nudges are thrown his way.) And in any case, future attacks would be dealt with using the sword carefully concealed in his duffel bag.

It would give them time to rest. And probably to settle whatever it was between them.

“Don’t run off too far.” He says, eyes closing as he lazes in the gentle warmth of the sun.

He vaguely registers her retort that she wasn’t a child despite her height, and really, was this warmth coming from the sun or from the inside of his chest?

He closes his eyes.

It's only moments later when a shadow falls on his face, and he grunts in mild annoyance, compelled to look for the offending stranger. “. . . hmm?”

It’s her. She plops down beside him, with neither a word nor regards for personal space, and hides her face in his chest. “Don’t say anything, you idiot. I’m cold and tired, that’s all. Let me sleep.”

He rolls his eyes in pure and utter doubt. Cold and tired. It’s summer, dummy. And you slept a solid twelve hours the night before. The corners of his lips turn up in a small smile. Yeah, right.

It doesn’t stop him from lightly hooking his arm around her waist, just so that she wouldn’t fall off.

She doesn’t stop him, either.

Maybe they don’t have to do anything to settle it.

(He catches her in the kitchen of their rented cottage, his duffel bag open on the table. The shouts of his father and sisters could still reach them here, even as they chose to enjoy the bursts of cool summer air longer.

“Were you talking to someone?”

She scrunches her eyebrows. “What do you mean? I was here by myself.”

“. . . sorry. Guess I was hearing things.”

She sighs exasperatedly, but he knows her enough to hear the undertones of fondness in that single breath. “Tch. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

He doesn’t bring up the fact that she’d answered a beat too late.)

White He wakes up with a start, limbs flailing around and head almost becoming cordial with the shiny wooden floor of his bedroom. Strange. This is the first time in months that he’s done that, the most recent one occurring right after she’d come into his life.

He’d awoken because he’d felt cold and clammy – no, that wasn’t even the best way to describe it. Unpleasant, but not entirely painful. More like . . . like . . .

Like something important had left, and he was here grasping at straws, desperate to fill that gaping hole. He scratches his neck and yawns, debating whether or not he should go back to sleep when his eyes flit lazily to where his sword was propped. Or, rather, to where it should have been propped.

No.

He runs.

“Please, let me in!” He bangs his fist relentlessly against the metal gate of the house where she was staying. Or used to stay. It doesn’t take long for the owner to show up – an old lady in her sixties wearing a pale nightgown.

“Wait a second kid, geez, want me to call the cops on you?” Her annoyance is clear as she peers at him sullenly through a small hole in the gate.

“Oh.” Her tone turns soft, and he doesn’t know if that should relieve or scare him. “It’s you.”

“She left in a hurry, you know. Wouldn’t tell me why.” The landlady unlocks the door on the far right of the second floor. “She told me to let you in here as soon as you came by.” The sound of a key being dropped on a table is heavy in his ears. “Paid a good price for the room, so I didn’t pry. Lock up when you’re done.”

“Thank you.”

There isn’t much left, just a folded piece of paper sitting on the bed that used to be hers.

He sits quietly, clutching the paper with trembling hands, until he unfolds it gently, smoothing out the creases.

Hey.

By the time you read this, I’ll have gone back to where I came from. I can already see the gears cranking in your head so my answer is this.

NO.

Don’t follow me there. I wasn’t kidding when I said the commute wasn’t something you’d enjoy. Also, you should stop thinking because you’ll hurt yourself if you keep doing that.

He scoffs, but he doesn’t deny the wry smile that spreads across his lips. I can’t believe you still have the guts to make fun of me right now.

I’ll cut to the chase. I wasn’t supposed to stay here long. At least, I wasn’t supposed to stay here and . . .

He could see the dark ink blot from where she’d scratched the lines over again and again, as if she couldn’t find the words to write down.

. . . get attached.

His heart sputters, pumping suddenly in a staccato beat.

No acquaintances, no friends. No one. An in-and-out job, if you will. But I got distracted. I wasn’t fast enough, and the rest is history.

“But you were,” he murmurs. “You were fast enough to save me.”

Those monsters may not be like anything in this world, but they’re like animals in a lot of ways. For one, they don’t go where they sense danger. So if you’re worried about that, then don’t be. No one of them would be stupid enough to come here after how many you’ve killed.

As for me . . . in some ways, I’m like those monsters too. In which way, I think you could already figure it out. I’ve already said it anyway. But fair enough, I’ll say it again.

They don’t go where they sense danger.

You don’t know how relieved I was when I realized that I could hold my sword again. I was strong enough to fight, but what was there left to fight when you’ve already finished them all? In this case, I was strong enough to go back home. I was strong enough to leave. You’ve already finished my mission here anyway.

But I was scared. And I don’t know which scared me more. Leaving or staying.

Because I heard you the first night I saw you. You said you could see the color of my eyes.

I didn’t tell you that I could see yours too.

That’s all it takes to knock the wind right out of him again.

Because of her. It’s always been because of her.

I know I told you not to come looking for me, but I know we’ll meet again. Because there’s a bond between us now that can twist and turn, but wouldn’t be broken. Because we’re soulmates. Don’t look so surprised, I can be poetic when I want to be. The language classes in your school aren’t so bad either.

This wasn’t the best way for me to say it, but we don’t always get what we want. Sometimes, we have to sacrifice things. I’ve told you that once, remember?

We’ll see each other again. Until then, she’s yours. Keep her safe.

Her? He shakes his head wildly, sweeping the entirety of the room until his gaze zooms in on a familiar outline in the corner of the room.

Right. His sword – no, not his. Hers.

He gives it a small, experimental swing before falling back on the bed.

He breathes once. Twice. And then he decides.

He’ll wait.

(It’s there that he realizes just how strong she’s helped him become.)

He’ll wait not just because their souls are fated, not just because he doesn’t want to be alone when he’s already found her.

He’ll wait, because no matter how long it will take, no matter how painful it could be, she’s taught him how to overcome it. Taught him about the strength he possessed, taught him how to use it, taught him how to wield it better than any blade he could ever hold.

She’d helped him realize who he was, how he stood out in this world of clockwork and routine.

A protector.

The colors he sees are muted now, their vibrancy slipping away as quickly as she’d left.

If his will was any weaker, he would’ve wondered if this was any way to live. Seeing in black and white would be better than this. Much less painful too.

Could I keep up with the speed of the world without you in it?

He will. He has too.

For her.

And for everyone who needs him.

Since then, he’s known three things. One thing is this – everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate. The second is this – sometimes, soulmates don’t always stay. The last and the third is something he learns a little bit later on, and it is this – that soulmates always, always come back.

Author's Note: This was honestly supposed to have a different ending. Supposedly, the characters of Byakuya and Renji would come to take her away, just as in the original story. However, I wasn't sure how to translate that here as Rukia's character doesn't outright mention where she comes from. (Also, I was pressed for time as this was a requirement.) Still, I'm quite proud of this story, but I do still plan on changing the ending to one that I feel would be better for it. (Also, posting this because I want to compare it to the future version.) Thank you so much for reading.

There are several soundtracks that helped me write some scenes. All of these music belongs to the Bleach OST (in part because they may have already been the music to the episode the scene was based on). Red was influenced by On the Precipice of Defeat, while Orange and Green were influenced by both Going Home and Peaceful Afternoon.

[antonioburke]

Shame

Shame has been on my mind a lot, lately. Where does it come from? Is it inherited or developed? Inferiority and shame seem to go hand in hand as they are both brought on by our projection of ourselves compared to others. For me there is a big difference between the two, however. Inferiority encompasses a belief we are inherently lesser than others while shame is what we feel when we're dealt a bad hand. The ashamed are able to conclude that their circumstances are not the result of their own actions and thus resent those with the Full House or Royal Flush. Inferiority may have plagued me at select times in the past but I’ve felt shame practically all of my life.  

I suppose this negative thinking combined with my selective muteness from the age of 5 until my early twenties are common symptoms of a traumatic childhood. It's understandable that a child constantly in the presence of danger would learn to avoid it by avoiding people.  

My most traumatic memory is of my brother, sister, and I hiding in the closet of our room while my mother was being beaten by her boyfriend Calvin. This was practically a normal event in our household; men and women came before and did the same thing.  

Kerline was a big, black Haitian-American lesbian my mom became romantically involved with. She lived with us for a few years with her son Randy. Kerline could be fairly jovial and quite interesting. She would listen to Bob Marley vinyl records every Sunday morning and take us to San Francisco to buy mangoes from street vendors. She made us celebrate Kwanzaa and wore Nefertiti earrings.  Despite what one may think she was apparently pretty Catholic. Attending Mass and Sunday school at St. Joseph's was a regular event and reading the picture bible every night was mandatory. Underneath the eclectic and free-spirited demeanor there was a sadism she could only satisfy by striking my mother or her son. Kerline also had the peculiar hobby of lining up the male children every school night before “Mommy Monique” arrived home and whipping us with a belt as we bent down bare-bottomed. Every night on clockwork for no reason or occasion. To a certain extent, her discipline had benefits.  Neither my siblings or I (or Randy) ever talked back at home or in class. The “study hall” Kerline presided over at our kitchen table on the weekends and in the summers did translate to success in the classroom. There were drawbacks; I was kicked out of Orchestra because I could not stop making flinching motions as if someone were about to hit me whenever the instructor called my name. Still, Kerline's most important contribution came on those violent nights when she would condition us for the years to come.

We were all born and raised on Berkeley's "black” South side but were living in a public housing condominium on the quaint North side. I can only imagine what the medium-income level of our neighborhood was but trust that the inhabitants of our complex were the only black, brown, or poor residents in the immediate area. Maybe it's the city's liberal brainwashing or the fact that the local school bussed in children of color from all corners of the city, but I never noticed that the only other black kids in our area were the Cokes brothers from our housing project or questioned how my mom could afford to live on this side of town working part-time in a department store.  

This afternoon with Calvin the usual soundtrack of my mother's whimpering and sobbing has been replaced with screams and begging interjected with his threats to "snap her neck". I'm not sure if you've ever had the opportunity to hear a woman being battered in person but there is almost a certain rhythm that eavesdroppers become very accustomed to. First there's the arguing. At this point there may be some back and forth that keeps up the facade that the woman still has control of her body or fate. There's increasingly loud discussion about whatever today's conflict may be as the male becomes noticeably more irritated and begins to drown out the conversation. The irritation begins to manifest in physical ways; he may break a vase or punch a wall. Now that the facade is over the pleading begins, her voice will go from appeasing to panicky to desperate until it finally settles on a simple cry as she realizes there's nothing she can do. Now there's only one item to take care of before the actual act begins and it's an important one. The music. Or more precisely, the radio. Screams, wails, and feet stomping are understandably alarming and noise mitigation measures must be taken for the sake of the neighbors. Usually this is less of a cover-up than a simple act of courtesy. Anybody that's lived in a thin-walled apartment complex that’s not in the greatest part of town knows what it means when the neighbor with the girlfriend that lives down the hall has talk radio blasting full volume at 3:00 in the morning even though he never listens to talk radio. This is a nuisance but less disturbing than what they know is underneath.

I don't remember what Calvin turned on this day, KQED, The Quiet Storm, Wild 107; the score is set and it’s time to begin. The sound of a hand slapping a face and a body dropping to the floor. Screams muffled by a hand covering a face turn into muffled moans as the blows keep pouring down. Of course, there's still the occasional talking. Calvin asks why she made him do this. She whispers gargled apologies that are coded pleas to spare her life. The lulls are the worst moments. The parts where all of the sounds cease and we’re in the closet wondering if Calvin made good on his promise to snap our mother's neck. What should we do? Would we have heard it, if he did? Would it make a sound? Knowing we should not stick around to find out, my siblings and I exit the house.  

We were standing on the sidewalk for a short while when our mother emerged screaming for help with Calvin chasing her down the porch. He catches up, grabs on to her, then proceeds to slap her in the face while pulling her hair and muttering curses. Her sundress begins to tear and her breasts become completely exposed as he beats her in the street during a sunny Sunday afternoon in North Berkeley. Our fellow public housing beneficiaries, the "indigenous" neighbors whose tax dollars fund our dwellings, the patrons across the street at Fat Apple Bakery; everyone is witness as two white neighbors rush in and attempt to pull Calvin off.  My mother is in the middle of Rose Street half bare when a lady in a minivan pulls up and summons us to get in.

The four of us are crammed into the backseat of the Good Samaritan's car as she drives us to the police station downtown. She is a white lady with short-black hair that is very Courtney Cox mid-1990s, looks to be in her 40s. It would be hard to describe her after all of these years, all I can say is that she is very Berkeley. That may not mean anything to you unless you grew up in the Bay Area but it is an excellent adjective. I could see her operating one of the tie-dye stations along Telegraph Avenue on the weekends or volunteering at the Edible Garden at Martin Luther King Middle School. The good-natured, bleeding-heart-liberal with a sense of civic responsibility that is so typical of Berkeley. The people I would come to loathe and love simultaneously as the years go by, though that is a story for another day.

I hadn't quite noticed her through all the earlier commotion, but the lady asks her daughter in the passenger seat to hand my mother a white t-shirt and my siblings and I some snacks. She does this and introduces herself with pleasant greetings. She is around my age with dirty blonde hair and seems very precocious (again, very Berkeley) and talkative. Really talkative. One of the first things I notice is how she has no hesitation at all speaking so freely to my mother, an adult. Sure, she was polite. Sure, we probably had an unnatural fear of adults and strangers at this point and understandably so all things considered. Children should be seen and not heard. It seems old-fashioned but this is basically how our family unit operated anytime we were around adults we did not know well. Do not talk out of turn. Do not ask any questions. Do not ask for or accept anything, especially food. We could all be stuck in the forest for three days without food or water only to come upon  a cabin occupied by friendly strangers in the midst of preparations for a gigantic feast. Even touching a utensil or breadstick may earn you a merciless pinch on the cheek later. I couldn't help but wonder if she would have felt that comfortable had my mom not been half naked and bruised in her backseat.

I can recall exchanging maybe a few words with her. We live only a few blocks away from my school but I do not recognize her. The daughter seems genuine as she darts questions to the backseat about school and hobbies and absurdly seems to have memorized our names by now. As the ride goes on, I start to notice the relatively dirty and tacky clothing my brother, sister, and I rushed out of the house wearing. My mother sits in the middle of the backseat with the oversized white t-shirt and her hair pointing in all directions, undoubtedly with small patches missing at this point.

I don’t think anybody at school has ever been as nice to me as this dirty-blond haired girl is being right now. Maybe she is just overly friendly?

This is one of the first moments I can recall feeling shame. I knew then we were being pitied. This girl, she may be my age. She may even go to my school. She is not my peer. I would never be able to look her in the eyes again without recalling this moment and this day. I was dealt a bad hand.

[icedteaandoldlace]

I was tagged by @firewolfi

Rules: Answer the questions and tag 20 amazing followers you’d like to get to know better!

Name: Allison

Nicknames: Allie, Al, Aloicious, Cat/Bunny Whisperer, George, Thin Mint

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Height: 5'8"

Orientation: Asexual (heteroromantic).

Ethnicity: Southern American (not to be confused with South American).

Favorite Fruit: Probably watermelon, but I love all sorts of fruits.

Favorite Season: Fall

Favorite Book: Clockwork Princess (book 3 of The Infernal Devices) by Cassandra Clare.

Favorite Flower: Most flowers, tbh, but lately I’ve been really into hyacinths.

Favorite Scent: Black raspberry and vanilla, coffee grounds, rose petals, line dried laundry, bluebonnets, violets, jasmine, fresh hay, peaches, strawberry, honeysuckle, petrichor, icy mist, cinnamon, cloves, new leather, cut grass, lemon zest–I thought this one would be tough, but once you get me started, there are a lot of scents I love.

Favorite animals: Cats and horses.

Coffee, Tea, or Hot Cocoa: Tea, but I love them all.

Cat or Dog Person: Cat person (dogs are good too, but I just click better with cats).

Favorite Fictional Character: I have about a million that I all love equally, but for the sake of answering and keeping it short, I’m just going to say Eric van der Woodsen and Lilith Sternin.

Dream Trip: Venice, Italy. I just wanna ride in a freaking gondola, dang it.

Blog Created: Sometime in early 2012.

Number of Followers: 820 (WHAAAAAAT?)

What I Post About: Fandom stuff, memes, and feminist/social justice type stuff.

Do I get asks on a regular basis: No.

Aesthetic: I’m on mobile, so I can’t attach a picture, so here: http://icedteaandoldlace.tumblr.com/tagged/aesthetic

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

LAST ___:

Drink: Tea


Phone Call: My sister.


Text message: My other sister, in the squad’s group message.


Song you listened to: The World Is Ugly by My Chemical Romance


Time you cried: I came pretty close last night, watching a video about a couple adopting disabled cats.

HAVE YOU EVER ____:

Dated someone twice: Never even dated someone once.

Been cheated on: Nope.

Kissed someone and then regretted it: Negative.


Lost someone special: Yes.


Been depressed: Who hasn’t?


Gotten drunk and thrown up: I’ve gotten tipsy, but never enough to throw up.

LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS: Purple, pink, blue.


IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU _____:


Made new friends: Yeah. Not, like, anyone I hang out or go places with, but yeah.


Fallen out of love: No.

Laughed until you cried: Oh god yes.

Found out someone was talking about you: Yeah, but not in like a dramatic way.


Met someone who changed you: I don’t think so…


Found out who your true friends are: Nah, I’ve known that for a few years now.

Kissed someone on your Facebook list: No.

GENERAL:


How many Facebook friends do you know in real life: All but three. One I added accidentally but kept anyway, one’s a Dr. Doofenshmirtz roleplayer who I don’t even know why they added me, and the other’s the star of a direct-to-video movie I grew up watching, who somehow met my dad.

Do you have any pets: 10 cats.


Do you want to change your name: No, I like my name just fine.


What did you do for your last birthday: I had dinner with my family at a Japanese restaurant, and my mom made a coconut and Mandarin orange cake and took me shopping.


What time did you wake up: Today? 12-something or 1, idk.


What were you doing at midnight last night: I think I was having dinner. Or maybe taking a bath. Last night was a work night, and it went pretty late.

Name something you cannot wait for: All I’m really waiting for at the moment is my new debit card. My old one got skimmed, and being without one makes me nervous. But luckily my phone bill’s been paid and my car has enough gas to last till the new card comes in.


When was the last time you saw your mother: A couple hours ago.


What is something you wish you could change about your life: I would really like to be able to keep myself focused on literally anything, and to have more energy and less anxiety.


What are you listening to right now: The Kids Aren’t Alright by Fall Out Boy.


Have you ever talked to a person named tom: Yes.


Something that is getting on your nerves: My trash email app that NEVER gives me notifications and takes 9,000,000 years to refresh. Also, the fact that the stupid app store won’t let me download FREE apps until I’ve updated my billing information, which I can’t do until I get my new debit card.


Most visited website: Tumblr.


Elementary: Homeschooled.


High school: Homeschooled.


College: One semester of community college completed.


Hair color: Kind of a golden brown.


Long or short hair: Short. Usually in a stacked bob, but right now I have a pixie cut.


Do you have a crush on someone: I have a couple of cute coworkers, but I’m not like smitten or anything.


What do you like about yourself: I like a lot of things about myself. But my favorite thing about myself at the moment is the way I’m changing. I’ve been growing more confident and more responsible, and adulthood is suddenly a little less intimidating.

Piercings: Just your standard one in each earlobe situation. I’ve been considering getting them double pierced, though.


Blood type: I have no idea.



Relationship status: Single


Pronouns: Traditional feminine pronouns.

Favorite TV show: Criminal Minds, Boy Meets World, Gossip Girl, Frasier, Gilligan’s Island, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Madam Secretary, and lately I’ve been watching a lot of Home Improvement and Last Man Standing.


Tattoos: NOPE. They’re neat and all, but they’re not for me.


Right or left hand: Right.

FIRST ____:


Surgery: I had two teeth surgically removed, if that counts.


Piercing: The right ear, if I recall correctly. But that was 14 years ago, and both ears were pierced within moments of each other, so…


Best friend: My cousin, Lexy.

Sport: I’m pretty much limited to kickball.

Vacation: Eureka Springs and Silver Dollar City.


Pair of trainers: I’ve been through too many in my life to have any idea.

RIGHT NOW ___:


Eating: Nothing, but I had some chocolate chip cookies a little while ago.


Drinking: Water.


About to: Put on chapstick and work on one of my stories.


Listening to: The Call by Backstreet Boys


Waiting for: Still just the debit card.


Want: Some tapioca or rice pudding would be nice.

Get married: Someday, hopefully.




Career: Novelist.

WHICH IS BETTER ____:




Hugs or kisses: Hugs. I think. I’m not really sure.


Lips or eyes: Eyes.


Shorter or taller: I really don’t care.


Older or younger: I’m more likely to be interested in a guy who’s older than me than a guy who’s younger, but I would prefer someone as close to my own age as possible.




Nice arms or nice stomach: Arms.


Sensitive or loud: Sensitive, I think. But I do enjoy loud, chatty people, as long as they’re not rude or overbearing.


Hook up or relationship: Relationship.


Troublemaker or hesitant: If by hesitant you mean someone who thinks before they act, then that.

HAVE YOU EVER ____:

Kissed a stranger: No way.


Drank hard liquor: I’ve sipped a few different hard drinks. Hated every one of them.


Lost glasses/contact lenses: No.
 Forgotten to put on, yes, but lost, no.

Turned someone down: Only in the rejecting attempts at flirtation sense. I’ve never been asked out, so I’ve never really had anything to turn down.

Sex on first date: Never been on a date. And sex really isn’t my thing.

Broken someone’s heart: With all these people I’ve never dated and never been asked out by, I don’t see how I could.


Had your own heart broken: Once.


Been arrested: No.


Cried when someone died: Yes.


Fallen for a friend: More like fell for, then befriended, then fell even harder for.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN ____:


Yourself: In most aspects, yes. But not always.


Miracles: Yes.


Love at first sight: In most cases, no, but in the “is it possible/has it ever happened” sense, yes.


Santa Claus: No.




Kiss on the first date: I mean, it’s not something I would ever do, but I don’t have any kind of moral opposition to it.

Angels: Yeah, I think so.

OTHER ____:


Current best friend’s name: Sarah


Eye color: Blue


Movie: Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events

And idk who to tag, but if anyone wants to fill this out, you can say I tagged you and I'll read it. 😉