#tomorrow I have a CAT scan even though the problem has passed by now but I guess it's good to check for a chronic cause? it happens a lot

[tootiredmotel]

spoiler alert: she keeps it

A coda fic of my beloved 10x20 "Angel Heart" bc Cas and Claire are my everything, for @emeraldcas 's celebration!

Prompt: meaningful moments

1.2k words – read on ao3 or below

First, it's a matter of where.

Dean says that the mall is a safe bet, and he’s probably right. It has options, a wide array of stores with near endless possibilities, so Cas asks him for a ride to the nearest one.

As Dean pulls into the parking lot, he asks "You really think you'll finally win her over like this?"

"I'm not trying to "win her over", Dean." Cas air quotes. "It's her birthday. A present is customary, isn't it?"

It's not a rhetorical question, and Dean seems to understand that after studying Cas's gaze on him.

"Yeah. Yeah it is, buddy."

Once inside, the number of options becomes overwhelming rather than comforting. Hundreds of people bustle about, bumping into them with reckless abandon. Cas pauses a few steps from the entrance, breathing heavily and looking every which way, trying to figure out where to begin and coming up blank.

He’s never been to a mall before. 

Dean, staring daggers at the back of someone who almost trampled them, puts a hand on Cas’s back. “C’mon. Let’s try this way,” he says, leading him down the hall to their right.

They walk for a while. Cas quietly studies every store they pass, while Dean speaks up every two minutes with a new idea. Tech store? A new phone. Clothing store? A jacket, hers is looking a bit worn. Shoe store? Do you know her size? We can get her some boots or something.

“Dean,” Cas finally says, stopping in his tracks and grabbing Dean’s arm. He's grateful for the ride, and he's grateful for Dean’s suggestions. Really, he is. “Thank you, but… This is my gift to her. I need to choose on my own.”

Dean starts doing that adorable thing where he can’t decide if he wants to shake his head or nod. “Uh, yeah, no. No problem, angel. You got this. I’ll shut up.”

Right now, Cas is less focused on the gift itself and more on finding a store that feels fitting, one that Claire might pick out on her own. He puts his hands in his pockets and scans the stores in sight. Further down the hall, one storefront stands out. The walls are black, the windows dimly lit, and the sign is made of backlit block letters. It feels… edgy. She’d like it.

“There.” Cas nods toward it. “The Hot Topical.”

The other thing is the matter of what.

Luckily, the Hot Topical seems to have a bit of everything. Dean sets off on his own soon after walking in, saying something about some Star Wars character or other. There's an overwhelming amount of pop culture merchandise, most of which Cas now recognizes. But he's not sure what kind of shows or movies Claire likes, so he opts against those.

Walking deeper into the store, he comes across the jewelry displays. Claire might like some, maybe stud earrings or a necklace, nothing too frilly. But if she's going to keep hunting, and she is, it's not very practical to wear things that can get caught and slow her down. He keeps walking.

The music section is mostly t-shirts. This is where he finds Dean, eyeing the wall curiously, but not looking like he's going to buy.

“Find anything?” Dean asks when he feels Cas next to him.

“Not yet.”

“You will. You got this," he says again, and Cas greatly appreciates the vote of confidence.

Dean turns his attention back to the shirts, and Cas, who isn't all that sure about Claire’s music taste either, goes over to the furthermost wall.

The back of the store is where they keep the miscellaneous things, apparently. One half of the wall is full of small, bobblehead-ish figurines whose heads don’t bobble (as Cas discovers when he picks one of the boxes up and shakes it). The other half of the wall has quite a few things: bags and backpacks on display, a few accessories such as mesh gloves that wouldn’t keep one warm in the slightest, and unnecessarily intricate belts. At the bottom of the wall, however, he spots some shelves with plushies.

That’s where something catches Cas’s eye.

Dean is already at the back of the line when Cas gets there. He's buying an enamel Scooby-Doo keychain and says it's because Baby's is old and he needs a new one; the unbridled delight in his eyes gives him away, though.

"A stuffed animal?" He asks when he notices what Cas is holding. There's no judgment in it. A bit of amusement and maybe, just maybe, a hint of fondness, Cas thinks.

Cas holds up the cat for Dean to take and examine. "It's an... inside thing."

"Right," Dean says, and hands it back.

Dean asks if he even has any money, to which Cas doesn't answer, realizing he doesn't. Dean happily pays for both items.

---

"She kept it, y'know," Dean says behind him, the next day. He pats Cas's shoulder, then heads back to the car, keys jingling against the new keychain.

Castiel stands there for a second, watching the cab roll completely out of the parking lot and out of sight, and he's wishing he could have hugged her longer. Despite having him and the Winchesters and soon Jody Mills, despite knowing she'll always have them… Claire is more alone now than she's ever been. Cas knows she's tough, tougher than she should've had to be, but she's still a kid (as much as she insists she's not). 

He… doesn't pray. Not anymore. But he hopes. He hopes for her every day, hopes for her wellness and safety, hopes he'll be able to see her face again and not just read her words or hear her voice through a phone. And right this second, he's also hoping that his present to her, (which she kept, Cas thinks fondly), will be able to serve its purpose. That it'll be a small source of comfort if she were to ever need it.

---

That night, as Claire settles into a motel bed, she gets a text from Cas. It's a Grumpy Cat meme, one of many cat memes she's received from him since they agreed to stay in touch more. In this one, the image is the cat lying in bed with that face of his, and it says "How many people got trampled on Black Friday this year? Not enough". 

After having cried herself out in the backseat of the cab, she actually smiles for the first time all afternoon; it's not a wide or toothy smile but it's a smile, and she lets out an amused exhale through her nose, so that's something.

She texts him haha and the eye roll emoji.

Are you safe? Cas shoots back.

She double-checked all the locks on all the doors and windows. She's got a knife under the pillow and a gun under the bed. She's all set to get to Jody's by tomorrow. She breathes deep, squeezing the plushie tighter against her chest, and texts back.

I am. Night Cas

She doesn't have time to put the phone down before it dings again.

Good night, Claire. Sweet dreams.

They probably won't be all that sweet. They haven't been sweet in years. But at least now, when the bitter dreams inevitably wake her up, she's got something to hold. Or maybe strangle. Depends on the dream.

Plus, she's got an angel-dad watching over her, too. In a sense.

Claire lets the dryness in her eyes and the heaviness in her body take over, and she falls asleep. Grumpy Cat in hand.

---

Fic taglist: ask to be added or removed! <3

@casismymrdarcy @youcaneven @zorelle @spooky-floral-cas @lilcasx @oh-in-italics @theehunterhusbands @knifelesbianjo @spoookycastiel @shakespeareintellectualbadass @stressedtaco @aniridescentdreamer @mishacase2003 @spookymixtape @dykekingofhell @evermorecastiel @autumncastiel @nightandwine @doyouhearthedestielsing @all-or-nothing-baby @hauntedrederadean @ciderdean @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @heres-to-evil-skanks @wormstacheangel @the-boy-kings-crown @10x02 @the-moon-loves-the-sea @ghostlynatural @one-more-offbeat-anthem @spookynightdeancas

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Make A Scene

AMHL – Masterlist

Dick immediately noticed when Y/N started getting quieter and quieter as they got closer and closer to the venue.

Bruce had hired a driver to pick them up from their apartment in Gotham. And the car had gone quiet now. 

Dick reached over to gently hold her hand.

“Nervous?” He asked.

Y/N shrugged, not really seeing the point in trying to lie to her boyfriend.

“This isn’t your first rodeo, ya know.”

She gave him a look. “You know that wasn’t the same.” Her eyes flickered to the driver. “I wasn’t exactly…myself. And I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

Also, tonight they didn’t have the security and comfort of being at Wayne Manor.

No, instead this particular event was being held at the ballroom of Gotham’s most extravagant five-star hotel. It was a party for Wayne Enterprises, not a personal charity or party of the Wayne family.

Bruce had kindly asked Dick and Y/N to attend when board members and business partners started asking if the whole family would be attending. Jason hadn’t answered anyone’s calls or texts about it. None of them expected him to show up. Tim had to attend since he worked for Wayne Enterprises. And Damian…Well, Damian was his father’s son and not yet an adult. He basically had to do whatever Bruce asked of him while he lived under his roof.

“I’m not gonna leave your side,” Dick promised.

He squeezed her hand to further emphasize it.

Their car pulled up to the carpet at the bottom of the stairs.

There had to be a hundred journalists and photographers, along with random civilians who had nothing better to do than to see Gotham’s elite get out of cars and walk into a hotel.

Dick took in a deep breath.

Thankfully the car’s windows were tinted and protected them from any onlookers.

“Ready?” He asked her.

She nodded.

Dick opened the door and ignored the screams and flashes as he carefully helped Y/N out of the car with his offered hand. He also shielded her from the photographers to give her a moment to get out and adjust herself before they could capture any photos of her.

“Mr. Grayson! Mr. Grayson! Who is your mystery girlfriend?” Someone yelled.

Sometimes Y/N forgot that Dick was somewhat of a celebrity in Gotham City through association.

It wasn’t like people were asking for selfies everywhere he went. Or that the paparazzi were following his every move.

But in Gotham, people took note of where Dick Grayson went and who he was with.

And everyone noticed he’d had the same woman on his arm for quite some time now.

Even though Y/N and Dick had been dating for over a year, the media still couldn’t figure out Y/N’s identity. 

What they didn’t realize was that she controlled every single piece of information about herself that lived on the internet.

They didn’t stand a chance. 

Dick smiled and waved at people who called his name. But his hand other hand never left Y/N’s as he helped her up the stairs.

“Who are you wearing?” A female journalist yelled at Y/N.

She ignored them and focused on getting up the stairs without tripping and face planting. Not that Dick would ever let that happen.

However, she knew her outfit was going to draw gazes.

Y/N had made a promise to herself that if she was going to be forced to attend events like this with Dick, then she was going make a statement. People were already going to be staring at her, so she figured she might as well give them something good to stare at.

Instead of wearing a typical cocktail and formal dress, Y/N wore a full men’s suit that was tailored to perfection, but with the bowtie undone. It was what the fashion magazines would describe as “androgynous” in the press tomorrow morning.

Y/N wanted to control her own narrative. And she’d rather be judged for her bold decisions than just her trying to blend in.

Bruce insisted on paying for all the boys’ date’s dresses – in this case, suit – if they happened to bring one. He always thought it was more of an incentive for them to attend these terrible events if he encouraged them to bring significant others. And the press always had a field day with it, which only helped throw people of their trail when it came to their secret lives as vigilantes.

Everyone kept screaming Dick’s name as they walked in, and Y/N wondered how he got so good at smiling through the chaos and ignoring them.

Once they were inside, Dick felt the tension leave Y/N’s body a bit.

“Alcohol?” He offered with a smirk.

“Yes, please.”

He nodded, knowing it was exactly what she needed.

Quickly, he grabbed two champagne flutes off a passing waiter.

They clinked glasses.

Then he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for being my date.”

Y/N smiled at his sincerity.

Dick sighed before he threw back the champagne, “The quicker we find Bruce and prove we were here, the sooner we can leave.”

“Try not to sound so excited,” she laughed darkly.

Suddenly felt a small human wrap around her thighs.

Y/N gasped in excitement, “Dami!”

Dick smiled as he looked down at his 10-year-old brother hugging his girlfriend.

“Dick gave me the drawing you made for us. It’s so beautiful. I’m trying to find the perfect frame for it,” she told the boy.

Damian beamed with pride at that.

Suddenly the boy started asking a million questions about Stoker, one of his kittens that he’d given to them to take care of when Bruce gave a limit to how many cats Damian was allowed to have in the manor.

Then, to Dick’s shock, he saw Jason slowly walk over to them with his hands in his pant pockets.

He was not at all dressed nice enough for the event. No suit jacket. No tie. His white button-up shirt wrinkled, messily tucked into his pants, and with two many buttons undone. The sloppiness of it all clearly wasn’t an issue with the women, seeing as all of them were ogling Jason.

“Todd,” Damian greeted coldly, pausing his conversation with Y/N, who whipped around at the name.

“Hey, you,” Y/N smiled as she went to greet him.

Jason gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek and a quick hug.

“I really didn’t think you were coming,” Dick told his brother.

“Well, I wasn’t. But I got a business engagement.”

Y/N and Dick shared a confused look.

“What do you mean?” Dick asked.

“I found my neighbor crying on her fire escape a few nights ago. Apparently… one of the finance bros of Wayne fucking Enterprises was everything but a gentleman to her.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in realization. “J, I already took care of that.”

“I know,” Jason nodded as his eyes scanned the room. He was clearly on a personal mission tonight. “You deleted the evidence. I am teaching him a lesson.”

Dick slowly put together what they were implying.

“Oh, please don’t make a scene, Jason.” Dick begged him.

Because he knew Bruce wouldn’t be dealing with the aftermath; it would be him.

“Don’t worry!” Jason laughed. "I’m gonna take him outside before I beat the shit out of him. No one here will even notice. It’ll be fine,” Jason assured him as he gave Dick a far too heavy slap on the back.

“Just tell Bruce and he’ll get him fired,” Dick tried to convince him to take the less violent route.

“Oh, we already did,” Y/N muttered.

Dick’s gaze shot to his girlfriend.

“He’s getting fired on Monday,” she clarified sheepishly.

“Since when do the two of you work together behind my back?” Dick accused them.

But he wasn’t actually mad about anything – maybe just a little bit bitter.

Jason opened his mouth.

“I swear to God, Jason, if you say ‘club business,’ I will lose it…” Dick warned.

Y/N tried to hide her smile.

“Got him,” Jason growled as he glared at someone on the other side of the room.

As soon as he left them, Dick gave Y/N his full attention.

“Seriously?” He accused.

“I’m sorry! He asked me for a favor and I was happy to do it once I realized what it was,” Y/N defended.

Dick pouted a little. Mostly because he hated being left out.

“Don’t worry, ya big baby. I’m still your ‘guy in the chair’ and no one else’s,” she teased before giving him a kiss, immediately wiping the lipstick off his lips.

“How come Jason gets to beat up people at events like this, but I’m expected to behave like a well-trained dog?” Damian mumbled.

Dick sighed and shook his head.

“Jason likes to think he’s a lone wolf who doesn’t have to play by the rules,” Y/N tried to comfort the boy.

To distract Damian from getting further into how unfair it was, Y/N asked him to show her more of his drawings.

This seemed to please Damian and he pulled his phone out, flipping through photos and showing Y/N his recent sketches.

With Y/N being entertained by his youngest brother, Dick decided to go to the bar and get the two of them a stronger drink and maybe get a kiddie cocktail for Damian. He’d pretend to be patronized and annoyed by it, but Dick knew better.

He patiently waited for the bartender’s attention. 

“So Gotham’s Golden Boy really has returned…” a husky voice uttered beside him at the bar.

Dick glanced over to see a beautiful woman close to his age eyeing him.

It was clear what she wanted. Dick used tactics like this on countless missions.

“So I have,” he answered.

He was polite, but distant.

Women hitting on him at events like this was nothing new. To Gotham, Dick Grayson was a Bruce Wayne 2.0 – younger, just as charming and handsome as his mentor and stand-in father figure. 

Dick knew how to play the game. But he never had any interest in casual relationships like Bruce did.

“Back for good?” The woman persisted.

“My girlfriend and I are just in town for a few weeks,” he answered before ordering his drinks with the bartender finally.

“Oh, brought up the girlfriend rather quickly,” she laughed.

Dick quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just…my friends and I had a bet going.”

Then she pointed to a group of three young women, who were giggling and smiling, not even trying to pretend like they weren’t watching them closely.

“Oh, yeah?” Dick asked, already tired of this conversation.

--

Jason had already rejoined Y/N and Damian.

Y/N looked down to see his knuckles red with irritation and bruised.

“Please tell me there’s not a corpse in the alley behind this hotel now…” Y/N sighed.

“No,” Jason answered coldly. “Though there fucking should be.”

“What did he do?” Damian asked curiously, clearly he hadn’t been listening to their earlier conversation that closely.

Y/N shifted her weight in discomfort, not sure how to handle the subject with the boy. Yes, Damian was far more mature than many grown men, but he was still just a kid. There were some things Y/N felt like they should at least try to protect him from still. 

“He got my neighbor too drunk to consent, filmed them having sex without her knowing it, and then showed it to a bunch of people at their work,” Jason answered bluntly.

Damian’s brow furrowed, clearly thinking long and hard about what his brother just told him.

After a moment, the boy perked up, “I know where we could hide the body so even father won’t find out.”

“Damian!” Y/N scolded.

But Jason was beaming.

Y/N looked around for Dick, hoping to find another sane person to stop the two boys from actually murdering anyone tonight.

But when she finally spotted him, she saw a woman standing far too close to Dick and pointing to a group of girls who flirtatiously waved and winked at both of them.

“Real cute,” Y/N muttered to herself.

“Vultures,” Damian growled as he followed her gaze.

“Jason, if I leave you alone with Damian, are you going to kill someone?” She asked without taking her eyes off her boyfriend.

“I don’t need to be watched,” Damian groaned.

“No, I need you to watch Jason to make sure he doesn’t change his mind about keeping that asshole alive.”

“Fine,” Damian whined.

Without any further confirmation, Y/N left them. 

She walked across the party on a mission, never taking her stare off of her boyfriend.

Dick did a double take when he noticed her heading towards him.

“Hey,” he greeted innocently.

Because he was innocent. All he’d done was be polite to a bunch of women who were after him for his name…and maybe his good looks.

“I was wondering where my drink was,” Y/N said with a surprising calmness and smile.

Then she turned to the woman. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N. You must be a friend of Dick’s.” 

She held her hand out.

No cattiness. No rudeness.

Y/N said it with the same kindness that drunk women having with other drunk women in bar bathrooms.

“Oh…I’m Irina,” the woman stuttered as she took Y/N’s offered hand, clearly confused by Y/N’s niceness.

Dick held out her drink.

Y/N took it, quickly clinked her glass with both Dick and Irina.

“Cheers,” she sang before tossing it back and chugging the drink that was meant to be slowly sipped.

Dick didn’t know what game his girlfriend was playing, but he was intrigued.

Once Y/N lightly placed her empty glass back on the bar, she turned to Dick and tilted her head to the side. “Could you show me to the bathrooms? I have no idea where they are.”

“Of course,” Dick answered without knowing where this was going.

“It was nice meeting you, Irina,” Y/N told the woman as she linked her fingers with Dick’s and guided him away.

—

Meanwhile, Jason watched the interaction as if he were watching an award-winning movie. Him and Damian were way too far to hear, but everyone in the bat family could read lips more than fluently.

Then Jason smirked as he watched Y/N drag Dick away.

“Boys,” Bruce greeted as he snuck up on the two of them. “What are we staring at?”

“Oh, you know,” Jason hummed with hilarity, “just watching Y/N assert her dominance.”

“Good for her,” Bruce grinned as he realized what was happening.

He moved his attention to his youngest boy. “Alfred is waiting outside with the car. You’re officially released from your duties.”

“Finally,” Damian groaned.

“Don’t you wanna say bye to Y/N?” Jason asked.

“They’re coming to the manor tomorrow afternoon,” Bruce answered for his son. Then he raised a brow at Jason. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Jason’s only response was a shrug.

Bruce tried to hide his disappointment and nodded before he guided Damian away and walked him outside, where Alfred was waiting.

10 minutes later, Jason saw Dick trailing behind Y/N as she walked back to the main area of the event.

Jason burst out laughing at the spectacle. 

Dick’s hair was an absolute mess. Half of his shirt was untucked. His jacket was draped over his forearm. His lips were swollen and pink. Y/N had left lipstick all over his neck and even a bit on the collar of his shirt.

Yet somehow not a single hair was out of place on Y/N and her makeup was still immaculate. Her outfit was just as sleek and clean as when she’d arrived. The only thing different was the proud smirk on her lips.

Clearly Y/N had just had her way with Dick.

But she wanted to make sure the whole party knew about it.

—

Y/N hadn’t said a word to Dick since she dragged him from that woman.

Her body did all the talking.

One second they were at the bathroom doors, the next Y/N had thrown him against the tiled wall after locking the bathroom door.

She gave no verbal explanation, just started kissing him and undoing his pants.

“Not that I’m complaining. Like, at all,” Dick laughed as they rejoined the party. “But wanna to tell me what that was all about?”

Y/N finally stopped walking and turned to face him with narrowed eyes. “I think you know, Richard.”

Y/N only ever used his full first name to provoke and tease him. And he hated that it worked every single time.

Dick glanced around to see that everyone in their vicinity was eyeing them. Well, they were mostly eyeing him and how it was clear he’d just been fucked in the bathroom.

He stepped close to her and lowered his voice, “Ohhh, I see how it is.” His eyes flickered down to her lips for a split second. “If a guy does that, he’s jealous and possessive. But if a woman does it, it’s sexy…”

Y/N proudly smiled like the cheshire cat. “Exactly.”

Something over his shoulder caught her attention. “Oh, I see Tim. I’m going to go say hi.”

Without hesitation, she brushed past him.

Dick let his head fall, put his hands on his hips, and laughed.

He’d pay her back later tonight. And by ‘pay her back,’ he would just tell her how incredibly hot her behavior had been and basically invite her to do it whenever she damn well pleased.

Dick felt a presence beside him, and he didn’t have to raise his head to know it was Bruce.

“Hey,” Dick greeted him nonchalantly.

“You have lipstick all over your neck,” Bruce told him as he took a sip of his drink and looked around the party. “And your zippers down.”

“Sure is,” Dick sighed.

--------------------------

OK. This was way too fun to write. 

Let me know what you think!!!

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[those-garsh-darn-homos]

My encounter with God

I used to be a person of high faith, and I believed there was a higher deity looking down on us. The question of whether that deity is a man, woman, or not even human at all, had always plagued me, or the reasoning for their indecisiveness on so many issues in the world. Just like so many others, I would sit awake on nights and ask, how could a God allow such evil to flourish in this world? Such injustice to go unchallenged and unresolved. My first encounter with God, came just I did.

It was a late, sleepless night. The day had been long and hard, and the week had been worse. Life was moulding together into a miasma of daily tasks that I completed with no true accomplishment being felt by the end of any of them. So, there I lay, looking at the ceiling, asking myself questions that I did not have the answer to such as “why was I here? What purpose do I even have anymore? Would anyone miss me if I disappeared tomorrow?”. I had ostracized myself from social circles in order to distance myself from any further stress and conflict in life, but the decision had only brought me more pain and misery. Nothing could help me get out of this pit of despair I had dug myself into, not drugs, not sex, not even the fucking tube. I was well and truly hopeless, in every sense of the word. Despite my internal philosophical conversation, I still felt natural urges that needed satisfying, as my thoughts suddenly shifted to a pair of double-D breasts I had saw on the bus that particular day. I sighed and reluctantly unzipped my fly, preparing to charm the one-eyed snake like so many nights before. First, I envisioned touching them, feeling them up like one might do to the melons in the fruit aisle. I slowly moved up to rubbing my face against them, feeling my airways being blocked by sacks of colostrum. Finally, the fantasy involved me hotdogging the two globes while twisting the mammary glands sensually, since it wasn’t only my enjoyment that mattered at the end of the day, right? I could feel the climax on the horizon, the body tensing, mind racing, breathing manic, until it happened, and my life was changed forever. As the semen ran up the urethra, time slowed, what was seconds, became a minute, and my sense of reality shifted momentarily. My dark, humid, piss scented bedroom, was filled with an overwhelming light, so much that my eyes began to water. A figure stood in front of me, and as strange as the situation was, I did not feel scared, but more as though I was in a familiar old family home. The figure stood, illuminated and shadowed by a beam of light emanating from behind them. They outstretched their arms to me and began to speak, but as I heard their first words, it all disappeared, the light, the figure, the vision, it was all over within a minute. I grabbed my chest as I felt my heart racing from the incident, thinking I had gone mad or had some sort of stroke. I cleaned up my cum covered body and went to bed, thinking of the figure, and why the vision had affected me so deeply. It didn’t concern me as much as I thought it should. Words at the time could not explain my feelings or emotions towards the event. For such a bizarre event, it didn’t feel out of place in the slightest, in fact I felt oddly calm and understanding about the vision.

I woke up the next morning and went about my day, feeling far more peaceful and fulfilled then I ever had. I had thought of myself as a hopeless case for so long that the feeling of peace was so foreign to me. I had conversations with people, I enjoyed what I was doing, thinking of that figure the whole time. I was never really a believer in the paranormal or anything of the such, but any rational explanation that I tried to tell myself, I found it was all just so unsatisfactory, it didn’t explain it. It wasn’t in my head, it was real, somehow, it shouldn’t have been, but it was. The workday ended and I was left to walk home. Once there I partook in the usual time wasters, TV, food, reading, but as midnight neared, I felt the urges again, like clockwork. I held my manhood in one hand and stared into the ceiling, waiting for the climax, and when it did, my eyes were met with blinding lights once again. I felt as though I was the deer in headlights, taking aback by the incandescent glow, body frozen in time as it’s beauty shun upon me. The figure stood before me once again and I asked “who are you?” and as the light dimmed and the vision weakened, I heard their reply “God”. It didn’t last as long this time. What was a minute last night, only felt like 30 seconds this time. It was definitely shorter.

Fears related to my own sanity began to rush my thoughts. I really had gone mad if I was talking to God, but it didn’t feel like some sort of imagination, it attacked all my senses. Incense burning, light shining, angels singing, my mind couldn’t have possibly created that, could it? I went to get a CAT scan the next day. When they slotted me into the machine, I was expecting them to find some sort of brain bleed or tumour that was inducing visions but they assured me there was nothing on the scan. While it was relieving in one aspect, at the same time I was no closer to understanding the reason for these visions, and I was apprehensive to disclose that I was seeing God every time I orgasmed to a phycologist, knowing they’d probably lock me up in the looney bin.

Weeks passed and fear of seeing God had gripped my soul tighter than a virgin’s ass. I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing them for seconds, all those questions I would have, all those arguments that I wouldn’t be able to have in that little time we do have together. Their glow, it filled me with feelings I hadn’t felt since I was a child. Such feelings of safety and protection I had thought I had forgotten so long ago, and yet came back to me like familiar tunes in the back recesses of my memory. Why me? Why would I be visited by God, when there are those on the verge of death that need guidance from such a figure. I don’t even go to church. Motivation filled me however, I felt imbued with creativity, to fulfil my dreams and do what I wanted to do, not what I was told. I created art, stories that I was proud of. I put them out for the whole world to see, to share in my pride of my creations, and for once in a long time, I felt happy with myself.

The solutions to my problem had been narrowed down to divine intervention. I would have to enlist the help of the Catholic clergy if I wanted to understand any of this madness. I visited a church and asked the Priest for guidance. We sat and he asked what was troubling me. I responded to his question with one of my own. “Father, have you ever actually met him?” I said, he bowed his head in assurance and replied, “The lord watches over us, there is no need for him to speak to us” which I took as a no. If he had never met God himself, then why is he a fucking priest? What is holding his faith together? “I did, last night Father, as I pleasured myself, I saw them, there was a light and they spoke to me. I keep seeing them but only for seconds now, not even, I see them in a glimpse now. I have tried to stop but every time I see them I feel at peace with myself, their glow is just has ineffable effects on my soul, it gives me faith in myself, more than it does in God” He once again understood and wrapped an arm around me in comfort, “Do you believe God has come to you for a certain reason my child?” yet as he said it, I didn’t have an answer for him, “I’ve lost my faith? Could that be why they came to me? I’ve also been stuck in a cycle of self-loathing, it’s hard for me to love myself Father, I try so hard, but life keeps seeming more pointless by the day. I ask myself why we’re here, why I’M here, but I never have the answer. I have lost my purpose for life. Do you think God visited me to help me re-follow the path of righteousness?” He assured me that God had a plan for me, as did he for all of us. “Your worries are needless my son, God does not put us here for no reason, there is always a bigger picture just beyond our view. We may never fully see it, but the important thing is we are always contributing to it”. His words did comfort me, and his guidance did assist me. I knew I would have to find a way to ask God what his plan was, if I had any hope of understanding anything in this world or my future. I could not sit back and know that the answers to everything were in my grasp, I could only see them for mere seconds that was the problem. Like a dog being teased with the scent of fresh meat, I was salivating and in desperate need of sustenance, only of the mental verity instead of the digestive.

In desperate times, desperate measures become viable options, and in this time, I had only one. My interactions with the Holy ghost had become flashes, missed if I so much as blinked. I would only get a syllable out to them if I was lucky and then the light would fade in an instant. For months I hypothesized ways to achieve a state of orgasm for longer since I had narrowed that exact moment as I achieve climax to be the one moment where they come to me. I had come to the realization that women achieve longer orgasms than men thanks to the large amount of nerves in their clitoris which was specifically intended for pleasure and nothing else. At first, I was worried about the implications of becoming a transgender woman, leaving behind my previous sex for a life filled with the hardships of a female in such a male dominated world, but I couldn’t miss my opportunity to help the world, if it meant waving farewell to my magnum private eye, then so be it. It took a few weeks but once I had begun taking the estrogen to start the process, my body became far more sensitive to any slightest touch. Soft breezes against my skin tickled the hairs on my arm and gave the sensation of feathers running up and down my back. I knew the treatment was working when the light returned, this time for at least ten seconds. He knew how much joy I felt seeing him again and did not ruin the emotion thick in the air by speaking, they only outstretched their hand, and placed it in my own. I closed my eyes as I held on tight, and while the light may have faded, I felt their hand in mine for all of that night, giving me more love than I had ever experienced in my life, just from their hand alone. I refused to open my eyes, to see them gone, so I simply lay, holding on until I fell into unconsciousness.

Time passed as it does, and I had refrained from pleasure of any kind until I would finally have my clitoris. With this golden ticket to speaking with the lord of all life, I would be able to right the world of all wrongs, to answer questions long thought to be forgotten and impossible to comprehend. I would have the knowledge of Gods and save the world from itself, to rectify humanity and all of it’s selfishness and greed. People would look up to me, they would see my wisdom and share in it, bringing about a new age of humanity. I would be a prophet, the next Moses or Muhammed, come to set the world on it’s proper path.

The day of the surgery came and before I went under, I envisioned speaking with him, I thought of every question, I would bring the worlds woes upon his shoulders and make him fix it. As our creator he would have to do exactly that. The surgeons began their procedure, and I could feel the beginning of my new life had started in this very moment. No longer would time be a hinderance to my meetings with God, no longer would I have seconds to speak with no words spoken in that time, no longer would their omnipotence go unnoticed, they would have to answer to me, they would have to fix it all. My prayers could no longer be drowned out when I was the only one standing in front of them, they would have to bring my father back, they would have to fix my finances, they would have to make all sickness cease and death an afterthought of the human condition. Perhaps they had simply been ignorant to the cries of help from humanity and all those in desperate need to divine intervention. The amount of people they simply watched die, and for what? Joy? How could they sit and watch that every day? Never feeling guilt upon their shoulders. It’s sick to think of God as some sadist, but to not do anything for these people, why else would they do it? He can help them, can’t he? If God is good, how can he simply watch us suffer? Is he really omnipotent, or have we just assumed that he is in fact a God above man? Every horrible thing done onto me throughout my life, flashed in my head as I underwent that sex change surgery, everything that God sat back and watched happen, and in that moment, I hated God, I hated everything he stood for, silent observation in the face of suffering.

When I awoke from the surgery, I inspected my newly bequeathed meat curtains. The wonders of modern science did not fail to amaze me. I ran one finger over the clitoris and knew in an instant, I would have more than enough time to speak with God after this. I was discharged and sent home, and on that night, I took the leap, and met my maker. I began to ring the devil’s doorbell, and after much ringing, he answered. Weeks of pent-up sexual pleasure had led to this moment, and as the endorphin release began, so too did the turning point of my entire life. The light engulfed me in all it’s beauty and for the first time, God came to me, not shadowed any longer, showing their true self. It was a woman, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Long pristine brunette hair, eyes green like fields of fresh grass, skin as soft and smooth as silk. This was God? “I know you’re surprised, and I know why you’re here, you have some questions for me don’t you?” her voice, it was, so soothing, how could I feel so much hatred for someone so perfect in every way? “You’re God?” I asked, giving her a smile on her own face from my question “They played me as a black man in Bruce Almighty, is it that surprising that I could be a woman?” She had a point, no reason why it could be impossible. “My child please, ask me anything you wish to know and I will tell you” for months I had waited for this moment, and not even the first expectation I had about this encounter was right. If God was a woman, what else about her was a lie? How much did we really know about God? Had I really just imagined all of this? I sat down and asked my first question, “Why?”. She understood it perfectly, crossing her legs in preparation for a long chat. “Why are you here? Because I created you, long ago, I had a plan for you, just like everyone else. When I created the first tiny little organism that would later become you, I knew I was creating something perfect”. Her answer rattled my brain, I had been planned for all of time? “You don’t understand, why are humans here God? Why do you watch them suffer? How come you don’t help those in need?” and as much I wanted her brow to furrow and her expression to be one of anger, she remained calm and began to speak once again.

“You see, humans are not like many other creations of mine. When I created you, humans that is, I gave you something that no other entity has had before, the knowledge of the Gods. You’ll find it referenced in the Bible, when Eve ate the apple, but most of that is all metaphors. There was no garden of Eden, but it did represent the beginning of humanity. I couldn’t explain to people two thousand years ago the process of evolution, so I had to explain their purpose in another way, in a way they would understand. Humans are wiser now, but it did serve its purpose. As for your second question, it’s very simple, you are all Gods in your own right. I gave you my knowledge so that you could prove that good can prevail over evil. You might be thinking, and yes, it’s true, God is capable of evil, greed, anger and hatred too, I am just like you. The only difference between humans and I, is your mortality, which is a blessing that I was never given. I have been cursed with immortality, for a sin I am unaware of.” As she said that, I thought about God’s creation, did someone give her life? A God above Gods? She continued “Your mortality is something I gifted you with to see the importance of life. While you may see death as something to fear, it gives you reason to strive for greatness. If you knew you would never die, you would never see a point to life, you would never want to use your time for anything meaningful, since there would be so much of it. Your mortality gives you reason to do the right thing, to respect life in all it’s beauty. If all sickness and suffering was healed by me, you would have no reason to live. You would not see life for the impermanent thing that it truly is, you would become complacent, ignorant to the good in this world. The capacity to save life is within you, all of you, every human has the capacity to do good, and just as much of a capacity to do evil. You know right from wrong, not because I told you, but because of your respect for life. Evil is in you too, just as I am not one woman, the devil is not one man, you are all Gods and devils yourselves, it is simply up to you whether to do good or evil. You say I do not help those in need, but every doctor, every nurse, every helper in this world, they are me and I am them, we are two sides to the same coin. That is divine intervention, when an ordinary person like yourself, decides to do what is right and help those around you.”

Everything she said resonated with me, it all began to make sense. The world was never so black and white, we were always living in this symbiotic relationship between our maker and ourselves. She wasn’t cruel, she could’ve been, but she decided to give life to something she did not need to. She could have made us immortal, made us loath our own existence, but she empathized, and gave us what we needed, not what we wanted. If it was not for the constant looming fear of death, I most likely would have given up before I started this life. “But what about death? Is there heaven or hell?”

She held her hand in mine and began to explain the true nature of our demise “It is not so simple, when you die, you’re not really dead. Physically yes, you’re decomposing, but spiritually, you live on in everyone you knew. Humans have developed such an amazing connection with one another that it transcends death. I didn’t understand it when I saw it, since it’s in your nature, but I have observed it closely, and while I might not feel it myself, it is a powerful thing that you can’t fully understand yourself. While you can’t affect the world yourself when you die, your life could affect the course of the future for decades to come. Generations, still feeling affects from your life, your actions have ripples in the waters of humanity that you can’t see, but I can. People may not know that it’s you that has affected them, but you are still alive in that time. That is true immortality. While you rest, your life continues, long after your heart may stop, but it does keep beating, just a little smaller, in another person’s heart.” Not only was life symbiotic but so too was death. It all made such clear sense that I didn’t understand why it wasn’t so obvious before. The suffering is there for us to stop, not God. The death is there to give us reason to end the suffering. It wasn’t cruel at all, it was the most loving thing that a mother could give to her child.

“But why can I only see you after achieving an orgasm?” The light began to dim as I asked her this, and I knew this would be the last thing she would say “Euphoria my child, I gave humans the gift of pleasure between each other. It is a beautiful thing, sex. I created it in a way that anyone can partake in it, and I made it so it would be a celebration of life. Every time you orgasm, it is a reminder that life can be good. People will try to stigmatize it, but everyone knows how good it is, and everyone has done it, it doesn’t need to be said, but no humans would be here if it wasn’t for sex. It is for those few people like yourself that have lost their way. You are not bad, but you simply need some guidance. For a few moments in your orgasmic euphoric state, you are able to transcend into my plain of existence. For those few seconds, everyone becomes a being of pure love. You have simply fallen into loneliness, you are not bad or evil, you are just confused with life. I only come to those that need me but do not know it, not those that want me but don’t need me. I have talked to many people like yourself, you might meet one or two of them but it is very unlikely. They don’t talk about me because they do not need to. That priest you talked to does believe in me, but he does not need to meet me to believe in me, he only needs to see the good in the world, and see that God is within him and so many others. Go now, live your life with purpose and do the right thing in the face of evil. Respect life, and show people that God is within everyone, they only need to believe in themselves”

With that, the light faded, and I was back to my mortal life. No more than thirty seconds had passed in that elongated moment in time, but that is all it took for me to see that it wasn’t about worshipping God or praying for the good in the world to appear. I was the good in the world, I was everything I was always looking for, and now I had to prove it, to show others the true meaning of life. Look out world, cause here comes Christine Weston Chandler. NOW STOP FUCKING ASKING ME WHY I’M TRANS!!!

[deerlyloved]

grief

under cut: a story of mei’s friends coping with her death, at least until...

There was no average time for how long it took people to grieve. Every mind processed loss differently, mourned differently, so there was no way to actually tell how long it would take someone to get better ‘usually’. 

Maybe it was a few weeks, a month, a few years, never. Everyone did it differently. So when the entire unit was placed on mandatory bereavement leave for an undisclosed amount of time after the loss of Private Amari, they all found themselves at different points at different times, coping entirely differently.

Jonas couldn’t bear to look at his workspace, and more often than not he laid in bed or on the couch when he was dragged out by Ana, who’s only understanding of how to grieve was to help others around her. She was the eldest sister, so she saw it as her job to make sure everyone took care of themselves while she barely stopped to take care of her. Get Jonas up, make him eat, calm Rea down, call Icka and get no response, find Kro, offer to cook H something and get no response.

Clockwork. The unit always, always ran like clockwork, even when things were the most chaotic and unorganized. Rea didn’t wake them up anymore, so Ana did it instead. After an hour, she’d go knock on the captains door and pretend she didn’t notice how shaky he looked when he opened it and pretended to be annoyed with her. They rarely saw hide nor hair of H anymore, but that was expected, right? So Ana left food outside their door three times a day, talked to them through the walls, reminded them that the others would always, always be there for the Kayojin, and that they could stay on the unit or leave at their own will.

Kro’asha didn’t skitter through the vents because most of them passed Amari’s room, so Ana fetched things here and there that he had stashed… before. 

Iggy was contained. Major’s orders. He was getting some great treatment, but apparently it was hard for the not-dog to rebond with someone like he did Mei. Ana got it, she’d feel the same way if she were a poor little alien canine.

The carpet was singed from the dogs last outburst before he was deemed a health hazard.

Karen disappeared. The moment they got back to base, the android disappeared, took a ship out of the Citadel and had gone completely off the grid. That made plenty of sense too, of course, Mei made Karen so of course the robot would be similar to her. Maybe it was good that they had left… the witty comebacks would have sat heavy on their hearts.

Her feet slid against the carpet as she carried a mug out to the living room, leaning over the back of the couch to offer it to Jonas. The man was curled up, silently watching a movie on the TV. He sighed, though, and took the cup offered to him with a quiet thanks.

“No problem, Jonesy.” Ana replied, teasingly, though her tone made the real hollowness of her words stick out like a sore thumb.

They both went quiet again, and they stayed that way for a few minutes before Jonas spoke up this time. The engineer leaned forward, setting the mug of cocoa down and locking his hands together. “I think we need to clear out Mei’s room.”

“Wow, first thing you’ve said today and you’re already off to a bad start.”

“No, no, I…” Jonas sighed and rubbed his face roughly before he spoke again, “Ana, it’s just… It’s just there. Full of everything that she was, and would be, and it’s like a fucking ghost just staring all of us down. I think it’s why H doesn’t leave their room. Hard to look across and see Mei’s room, ya know? And I…” He scanned the room around them, “I don’t think we should trash it, just… I think we should pack it up. Get rid of all the little ghosts that she left.”

“You wanna just erase our friend out of our lives?” Ana scoffed, “No. No! We’re not just going to pack everything away! Mei belongs… She belongs here! She can’t just get pushed in the back of all our minds!”

“She won’t be!” Jonas retorted, “It’s impossible to forget Mei even if you want to, and none of us want to, Ana. We also don’t need constant reminders that she used to be here, and now she’s not. I’m not saying today, or tomorrow, just… Eventually. Eventually we need to accept that it’s okay to put all her stuff away and move on.”

“I’m sure Icka’s gonna have a ton to say about that.” Ana mumbled to herself.

“If she ever comes back.”

“I…” She had lost this argument, she already knew it. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, Jonas was right. They didn’t need to leave Mei’s books out, or her shoes, the cat keychain she had imported… Those could all be put away, for their sake, and they wouldn’t stop thinking about Mei.

…But there was no way in Hell she was going to be the one who presented the idea to Rea.

The man was a bit of a hard-ass before he started the grieving process, but now? When he could be bothered to interact with his friends at all, he never followed schedule. He’d show up, ask how they were, then leave. Headed back for the training room. If you asked him anything between that, whether a general question or a request, you were going to get told to do it your own damn self.

Everyone grieves differently.

Rea worked, and got frustrated, and didn’t want anymore responsibility because he knew, knew, knew that he was the reason Mei died.

Jonas couldn’t work, and he was quiet and sleepy because he never slept anymore, hard to when all he could think about was how he could have stopped it from happening. Maybe if he’d just moved the sensors here, or made them stronger, or gone further up with the metal, or…

Icka formally resigned from her position as a medic and unit psychologist and went back to her home planet. She never talked to the unit anymore. Sometimes you just need to get as far away from your issues as possible.

H was mourning in their own way that was certainly frustrating for the rest of them. Ana cared for others to never think of her feelings. Kro’asha left the duplex and spent most nights in the general bunks so he wouldn’t have to see Mei’s things. Karen left the CCF entirely. Iggy bit people.

Clockwork. The unit ran like clockwork. Get Jonas up, make him eat, calm Rea down, call Icka and get no response, find Kro, offer to cook H something and get no response.

 Get Jonas up, make him eat, calm Rea down, call Icka and get no response, cry in the bathroom, find Kro, offer to cook H something and get no response...

Get Jonas up, make him eat, cry in the bathroom, calm Rea down, call Icka and get no response, cry in the bathroom, find Kro, offer to cook H something and get no response, cry in the bathroom.

Get Jonas up, cry in the bathroom, make him eat, cry in the bathroom, calm Rea down, cry in the bathroom, call Icka and get no response, cry in the bathroom, find Kro, cry in the bathroom, offer to cook H something and get no response, cry in the bathroom.

Cry yourself to sleep, then get Jonas up, then cry in front of him, then make him eat, then cry in the bathroom, then…

Ana was given mandatory meetings with another therapist as opposed to the grief counselor the unit was talking to already.

Three months, fourteen days, Kro’asha rejoined the duplex. Four months, three days. Jonas got up and made his own food. Five months, sixteen days, Rea woke everyone up at 7am. Seven months, eight days, Ana went through and packed away everything of Mei’s. Seven months, twenty days, H came out and joined them for dinner. Eight months, nine days, Icka called the unit.

Nine months, ten days, Karen sent them coordinates.

“Mandatory bereavement leave is mandatory.” Rea said as he followed his friends through the docking bay of the Citadel ship, “If they know we’re leaving for a possible mission, we’ll get added therapy, and I don’t think any of us want that.”

“Maybe you don’t, but I think Icks could use it.” Jonas replied.

Icka didn’t reply. The avian had come back just to investigate the coordinates sent, and she was certainly not the same alien who had left. None of them mentioned it.

“Listen, as far as we know, this is Karen just inviting us out to their cool new house!” He said, “No need to go worrying, okay?”

“When is anything that simple when it comes to an Amari?” Rea replied.

“He has a point.” Ana said as she stopped in front of a ship and turned, “This is the one we got, real clunker, but it’s not for fighting anyway so if we get in trouble… We’re thoroughly fucked.”

“We should not get in trouble.” H pipped up.

“Yeah, ‘cause Mei--ehhhhhhhhsnevermind.” Jonas quickly pushed past Ana to clamber onto the ship.

Everyone boarded quickly, got settled even quicker, and soon enough the on-leave unit was off with a rented pilot. “So, where are you guys headed? These are kinda in-the-middle-of-nowhere coords…” She asked.

“A friend invited us out to them, we figure they’ve either decided to go all mad-robot on us finally, or they have some cool party planned.” Ana replied.

“Cool, cool, but uh… Why on this place?”

“What place?”

“Do you guys not know?” The pilot cocked an eyebrow, leaning up to flip down a holographic screen that projected the area they were headed to, “It’s some little rinky-dink dwarf-planet set up, real seedy place. Mercs love the area.”

“Sounds like Amari territory…” Rea grumbled.

“Yeah, well, just be careful out there, it’d be a shame if I had to go home empty handed. Major’ed be all over my ass…” She sighed, her long, curled ears flicking.

The trip didn’t take much longer until the on-leave-unit saw the planet in the distance. The cities built on it clearly took up most of the area, the geography was all over the place but mainly seemed to be plains and hills, and as they approached the ground and actually broke the cloudline into the city it became very clear that this place was, in fact, ‘rinky dink’. The buildings were in poor condition, the streets were packed, the ships parked in the bay all looked stolen or like they were about to be hauled off for scrap. Rea sucked in air and sighed.

“Alright, we’re going to stick together out there, no need getting lost. H, try and stay somewhere in the middle, you’re incredibly small.”

“Kro’asha is smaller than me.”

“That’s why he’s going to be jumping on my shoulders. We aren’t that close. So stay close to me.”

The group unfurled themselves from their seats and piled out onto the streets. It definitely smells like a city, despite how cramped and busy it seemed the air was clean, the water was clean… Good ol’ Citadel influence.

“Coordinates are up ahead, a little to the right.” Rea announced as he led the group through. He was certainly an intimidating figure, and the crowd seemed to begrudgingly part for him as he walked through with little concern for who was in front of him. 

“What, in the apartments?” Jonas asked from the back of the group, “Shit, Ana, you might be right, Karen’s inviting us to their house.”

“Never that easy.” Rea retorted as he cleared a path towards the clearly labeled apartment complex, opening the gate and letting his friends file through. “No one make a scene, okay?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I was planning on doing some fuckery.” Jonas replied.

“I mostly meant Kro’asha and Icka, but I do appreciate the energy.” 

“Can we please just go inside?” Icka replied, a harsh tone to her voice. That was definitely knew for the group, and all of them seemed to share the same discomfort as they nodded and walked quickly for the entrance. As soon as they had all filed in, a young alien at the front desk turned to them, and went pale. Their hands were webbed, but they still typed at the computer in front of them quickly as they stared at the group with large, completely pink eyes. They almost looked like a frog, honestly.

“Karen Amari is in 247, they’ve been expecting you. They said you’re late.” They said, motioning for the group to head towards an elevator.

“This is terrifying.” Ana stated.

“We are on time, I don’t know why Karen said we’re late.” 

“Focusing on the real issue as always, H.”

Still, despite the obvious discomfort that the building held, the feeling that they were walking into a trap, the unit persisted. What else were they going to do, ya know? They’d already made it all the way out here, and knowing Karen, they’d kill the whole group if they never showed up.

The large group managed to cram themselves into the elevator, then down the narrow, twisting hallways that led to Karen’s apartment. That they somehow got… The Amari’s really were an enigma, weren’t they?

H was the first to spot the door, stepping over to it and giving a simple knock. Before they could rapt their knuckles against the wood a second time, though, the door swung open to reveal Karen, staring out at them all. Their stickers and bow had been peeled off, and they seemed to have acquired some new… stains that definitely-were-not-blood… But it was Karen.

“Hello.”

“Hello, H.” Karen replied, “It’s nice to see you, I’m glad you all made it, I’m going to need as much help as I can get with this.” The android stepped back and motioned for them all to come in, “It’s easier to have familiar faces here, reduces time spent in a natural state--”

“Karen, I’m begging you, begging you,” Icka said, “To please, those above, not waste our time mumbling vagueness and incoherent sentences, and just tell us why we’re here. I came a very long way, and I’d like to get back to my pottery and mourning in peace, thank you.”

“I see grief has left its mark on you.” Karen replied quickly, “A shame that it was all for not.”

“Charming as always when it comes to opinions on emotions, K.” Jonas murmured.

“All for not, because you had no reason to grieve. Mei is alive.”

Nine months, eleven days, and Karen had gone fucking insane.

H was the first to reply with a grimace and a firm shake of their head, “No, she is not.”

“Yes, she--”

“No, no, Mei died in my arms, she is not alive. You can’t tell me she is. You can’t make me believe that. You can’t.”

Ana reached a hand out to put on the Kayojins shoulder with her own grimace, “Karen, you should come with us, okay? You obviously aren’t doing well out here, and… Listen, I know it’s easier to believe--”

“Would you like to see her?”

The silence that overcame the group was deafening and instant. H’s breath hitched, Icka’s feathers puffed, Rea simply closed his eyes and shook his head almost disappointedly. Despite their pleas, how desperately they wanted to not fall for something so impossible, H spoke up, breathily, “Yes.”

“Over here.” Karen turned and walked towards the other side of the apartment, where the walls had been carefully cut to reveal the apartment next door. They walked through the gap they had clearly created, and stood off to the side to reveal a large room that was clearly better taken care of than the rest of the building. A soft lighting shone into a covered box that was connected to different canisters and boxes with long, thick hoses, and Karen carefully stepped over them to reach a screen just on the other side of them.

“She took the idea from her father, he wanted to use Talvak genetic research to help heal injuries, but never perfected it before his death. She had an endless supply of Talvak DNA, however, which made it easier.” Karen was intensely staring at the screen as they typed in various things, “The base idea was there, but Mei also never finished the project before her death, which left it in the very capable hands of me, her firstborn.”

Silence. 

“I don’t know why I was expecting a response.” The android murmured before carefully pushing the curtain that draped the box off to the side of it’s rod, revealing a UV light shining down on a metal capsule. The top of it had a glass window, though the group was too far away to see inside, wires and the likes connecting it…

“Come here, H.”

They were moving without a second thought, nearly stumbling over to the robot and hopefully moving to their toes to peer into the container in front of them. They had an aching feeling that it would be empty, that they wouldn’t see whatever they were expecting… Mei, or someone like Mei, or...or… Something. Anything to remind them of her. But they still looked, just in case, just in case Karen hadn’t truly lost themself in the grief.

And wouldn’t you know it…

Black hair, pointed ears, sharp features… No scars, but still so very much Mei Amari, and H’s heart skipped a beat, their breath stopped. This couldn’t be real, could it? No, no, she was dead, so very dead, and she didn’t look like this when she died, but here she was and… And she looked just like her old pictures. With her dad. 

H spoke in Kayojin, and the unit each had their own hopes as they crept forward.

It was… a loud few minutes.

Finally, Icka lurched forward and grabbed Karen’s shoulder with a frantic look in her eyes and a wide, sharp-toothed smile, “How. How did you do this? Is that her? Really her?”

“Mei was careful to have a constant digitization of herself both mentally and physically. She often scanned and mapped out the salient features of her brain, and then stored and copied that information state into a harddrive that just so happens to be me.” Karen explained it like it made sense, like it was absolutely nothing.

“The day before the mission, she uploaded, and using what DNA I had from her I was able to facilitate a regeneration of a biological body with the information I had. Of course, I also needed her actual body so I… Listen, is it important? She’s here! And I broke intergalactic law, so I would rather not tell you every detail.” The robot gently removed Icka’s talons, “I spent months perfecting her body and keeping it alive, and her brain was no help, always trying to rebel against the process. I tried releasing her once,” Their yellow hand brushed up against an obvious dent in their chassis, “It appears that when initially released, she’s reverted back to her Talvaa instincts until her brain can properly cope with what’s happened.”

“So… You… You brought us here to make her remember us?”

“Correct. Step back please, all of you. Please be warned, she is very naked, and given her last physical scan was after her amputations… While she can’t walk, she’s still very fast.”

It’s an odd thing, standing back so a robot can open up a metal box that contains a reconstructed version of your girlfriend. But H did it, nervously, hopeful, hands clasped as the lid raised with a hiss and Mei sat straight up with a cough and a sputter, leaning right over the side of the container with a dry heave and a shudder.

“Mei.” Karen called.

Mei flinched away from the noise, snarling as she jumped back further into the box she sat in. Everything about her seemed wrong in that moment, the way her body moved, the look in her eyes, and that’s why H stepped forward. They couldn’t help it, they saw Mei and she looked so scared and the last time she had looked like that… It made H’s stomach churn, and when they stepped forward Mei’s head snapped towards them.

It was a tense few seconds, silent seconds, and Rea also moved forward to put a hand on H’s shoulder, just in case… Listen, he didn’t want to boot a friend he’d missed for months across the room, but he would if she was about to bite someone.

Thankfully, that moment never came. The confusion and fear on Mei’s face slowly faded, and she blinked rapidly before she shook her head and looked back up at H. Then, a smile. A stupid, crooked, fanged smile as the Japanese woman leaned forward and motioned for H to come forward.

“Shit, I feel like I died.” She joked as the Kayojin stumbled forward, throwing their arms around her as soon as they could and pulling her into a tight hug. “Least I don’t…” Mei tightly hugged them back with a grin, “Least I don’t look like death, right? ‘Cause I know my ass looks great naked.”

[angryknightstatesmantrash]

It’ll Be Okay

A Criminal Minds One Shot

MY MASTERLIST

Requests and Tagslist open!

[I’m super willing to write more parts with London or to continue this part let me know in the requests!]

Original Focus Character: London Emma Schmidt, 17

Team Status: First few episodes of season 3 before Rossi→ Hotch, Reid, Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, Garcia

Potential Triggers: Sexual abuse and assault → 2 potentially triggering scenes. One depicting the after thoughts and another briefly detailing what it looks like on the outside from a distance.

National Sexual Assault Hotline: Call 1-800-656-4673

London loved her job.

Sure, the pay sucked, but the hours were relatively constant, the people were amazing, and even though the team could function without her, they all pretend it couldn’t.

Working as a (low pay) intern at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit was a dream come true for her. She had landed the gig through her councilor, who had handed her the pamphlet and application.

Mrs. VerHagen knew about her passion for going into some form of law enforcement or government, and how badly she wanted to join the bureau. With that knowledge, as soon as she saw the new intern program that would match one student to each unit in the building, she knew London would be interested.

As soon as the deadline had occurred, she received the letter she was accepted and would need to submit a skills profile so that each unit could choose which intern they felt would fit their team best. It all seemed very pet adoption style, but if it meant she had a better chance of making it into the FBI after high school, she would take it.

Once she submitted that, she waited another very anxious several months before getting word that the Behavior Analysis Unit had chosen her from all the survey talented individuals.

Since she was only a high school junior, seventeen years old, she couldn’t go on trips with the team’s and parent’s approval- which she knew would never happen- so she just stayed in the office, helping Garcia from her cave, or tidying things and filing old cases.

Today, however, was one of the days that she would go straight from her public high school to the bureau’s headquarter. She smiled at the main guard at the main entrance, letting them search her school bag and scan her employee badge clipped to the front pocket of her jean jacket.

As she stepped out of the elevator, she was greeted by JJ waving to her while walking from her office, “hey London, I have a few things for you to do today while you’re in, the list is sitting on your desk!”

“Sounds great, JJ! I’ll get right on it,” London called as they passed and she entered the bullpen and set her bag down onto her desk.

“Hey, Schmidt, did you make a coffee run?”

Moving her head to follow the voice she rolled her eyes at Special Agent Derek Morgan, one of the people she loved the most at the BAU, sitting at his desk, relaxing as he leaned against the desk of the person in the office she was closest with, Doctor Spencer Reid. “I didn’t know I was supposed to, I can see what the break room has, but I know you’ll still complain.”

Morgan laughed and outstretched his hand, an almost empty coffee mug hanging for her to grasp, “You know my order?”

London laughed and took the mug, “splash of milk one spoon of sugar, yeah, I know,” she laughed. Looking over to Spencer she raised her eyebrows, “want any Reid? I know your order, don’t worry.”

Spencer nodded and smiled at her, “Yeah, sure. Thanks, London. How was school?”

Shrugging, she leaned back against her desk with the mugs held in her hands. “As good as school can be, but hey, I don’t have to go back until 8am tomorrow.”

The two men laughed as she shrugged and moved to fill up the coffee mugs, “I’ll be back!”

After London filled and returned the mugs to her coworkers and a mug for herself, she started on the list that JJ had given her.

It was a simple list, just filling out some basic forms and organizing records. Sometimes spending so much time with the agents. She made small talk with the people around her.

Tricking Reid into doing her homework for her, throwing small things at Morgan while he wasn’t looking, and sending cat videos to the group chat she was in with JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia were just a few.

It wasn’t until Morgan spoke again that she remembered the time, and what waited for her at home, “Hey, Lon, it’s Tuesday, don’t you gotta be back home by 10?”

Looking up from her AP Chemistry homework, she nodded, “Yeah, why?”

Prentiss looked at the clock sitting on his desk before chiming in, “It’s 9:30 right now.”

Her heat dropped. She was already dreading going home for the fact it was the night of the week she hated wholeheartedly, but being late would make everything that much worse, “Shit, the bus leaves at 9:45, do you think I could make it?”

Reid looked at her, “Hey, I can drive you home, no problem.”

She shook her head, scrambling to shove her books in her bag, log out of the computer, and chug whatever was left at the bottom of her coffee mug, “Yeah, but that’ll only save a few minutes, I’ll still be late.”

At that point, London didn’t have time to allow herself to remember that not only did Reid hate people in his personal space but he also hated driving.

Morgan looked at Prentiss, they made eye contact with a mutual concern.

London was always punctual, that’s just how she was, but on Tuesdays towards the end of the night she was always that much more on edge, only for her to return on Thursday fine.

Once she had gotten ready at her desk at a seemingly superhuman speed, she looked at Spencer expectantly. “Chop chop, we gotta go, come on.”

With keys in hand, he was still grabbing his side bag while she all but dragged him out the office, neglecting the elevator after deeming it, “too time consuming and slow”.

Once they had gotten into the car, London’s leg wouldn’t stay still, it was bouncing and she was picking at her nails, something the team had quickly identified as her “tells”.

“So, are you going to explain why you’re in such a rush?” Spencer asked, seeing it as appropriate to have an explanation.

London shrugged before pointing the corner to turn leading him into a neighborhood that could not be easily classified into lower or middle class. It was the first time any of the team members had brought her home after her shift.

Once he pulled into the driveway, he moved to get out, but was interrupted by London stopping him with a forceful, “what are you doing?”

Spencer looked at her front door, which had the porch light on, and the man standing in the window before clarifying, “I was going to meet your dad and siblings, you talk about them all the time. More your siblings than dad, but still.”

It was a terrible idea. Bruce would be mad enough at London for being late, let alone if she brought someone home, let alone on a Tuesday night.

It wasn’t a secret to the team that her mother was dead, she was open about the ordeal. A drunk driving accident, something that was all too common. It was also true she talked about her younger siblings, little Lance and Jessica, all the time, she loved them and proved every Tuesday she would do anything for them. But the threat of her father, Bruce, out weighed the desire to introduce her family with her friends from the BAU.

Frantically shaking her head at him, her eyes darting from her father, to the clock on the dashboard reading that she was at least fifteen minutes late to curfew, and then Spencer. “No, no no no no, I’m sure you’ll get to meet them sometime but tonight won’t be it. I promise I’ll pick them up from school one day and take them to the office even. But right now I need to go.”

Before Reid could even argue, she was already out of the car and standing outside the front door. “I’ll see you and the rest of the team on Thursday! Have a good night and get some sleep!”

After the kind words she yelled at him she quickly entered her home, shut the door, and turned off the light.

Spencer knew that something was wrong, but nonetheless he drove away from the house and discussed the peculiarities of the situation with the team once he arrived back at the office.

While Reid drove back to the office, London was dealing with the rage of her father inside the home.

“You’re late.” The empty cans laid on the coffee table and refused to let her forget the impending doom that polluted the air around her.

“I know, I got wrapped up, it won’t happen again, I promise.” She looked to the kitchen table, “where are the kids? You know the deal, you do whatever you want to me but you don’t lay a hand on them.”

Downing the rest of the can he was holding, London’s father moved towards her, “I don’t care about what the brats do. What I do care about, is what we’re about to do, and I’m going to take my sweet time tonight,” the way he caressed the side of her face made her almost as sick as what was about to happen would, “sweetheart.”

Laying in her fathers bed, naked with tears streaming down her face and under the covers with him, all London could remember was when she hadn’t grown so numb to her father raping her.

She used to resist. Sometimes she wouldn’t go home on Tuesdays, as that was always the night he got so wasted he could barely remember who his own children were and would beat them senseless.

London learned the hard way that if she wasn’t there to take the brunt of it, it would go to her ten year old brother, or six year old sister, and she couldn’t let that happen. It wasn’t like her older brother, Bryan, knew about it. Once mom died, dad spiraled, and Bryan left for college never to look back at just the right time.

So her father had his way with her every Tuesday night so long as she kept her grades up, he didn’t get black out wasted, and she met her 10 o’clock curfew every Tuesday night, and 11 o’clock curfew the rest of the week, or until her father decided to add an extra day to the schedule.

She knew that she would find herself back where she was tomorrow night, she was late, what should she have expected?

She was tired, she was so tired, more tired than she usually was on a night after. It was a Wednesday, the conveniently planned off-day unless she was called in to help JJ brief the team on a new case, something she had only been allowed to help with two or three times before.

She had drifted through the day ready to go home and get the torture and punishment of being late by her father, until her phone rang as the last bell rang.

Answering it she heard JJ’s lovely voice through the speakers asking for her to go into the office and help with a couple house/office keeping things, help out the team a bit overall.

London agreed, only asking if she could go in a bit later to set up Lance and Jessica’s dinner and evening situations. She felt bad for leaving them alone as often as she did, but on days she regularly had to go into her internship, she had arrangements with her kind neighbors established.

JJ, obviously, agreed.

It was around five thirty in the evening when London made her way into the office. She still smiled at the people she passed, and greeted the security guards who, although were confused about her break in schedule, were still happy to see her.

As soon as she got to her desk she dropped her bag, half heartedly waved at Prentiss who smiled brightly at her, and went to get the most needed mug of coffee probably ever.

Reid had approached her shortly after she sat down, “hey, are you alright? You seemed really upset last night.”

Glancing up from her laptop, London gave him a faint smile, “yeah, sorry about that. My dad’s just strict about curfew.”

Morgan chimed in from his desk, “only on Tuesday?”

London looked between Morgan and Reid before squinting her eyes and looking between them, “Yeah, my siblings get home earlier those days. Why? You guys better not be profiling me, there’s a rule against it for a reason.”

Reid shook his head and shrugged as he sipped his coffee, and Morgan leaned into watching as she stared into space after the three remaining in the situation for what felt like lifespans.

Nodding to Spencer, Morgan, and Prentiss, who didn’t want to be directly a part of the investigation but was still invested in the girls wellbeing, watched as he placed his land on her arm.

Against their hopes, she flinched away and panicked, darting her eyes around the office and her breathing escalated. “What?”

Spencer just looked at her for a moment before asking, “I’m going to be done with paperwork early tonight, I can give you a ride home again tonight if you’d like.”

She looked at him before slowly agreeing, rubbing her forehead in her hand, “yeah, sure, sounds great. Curfew’s 10 again tonight, though.”

Spencer looked back to Morgan and subtly nodded before replying to the girl, “sounds good.”

After an odd car ride to London’s house filled with weirdly general but specific questions from Reid, she once again found herself standing inside the front door of her house, ready to let her father take advantage of her so long as it meant her siblings were safe.

Reid sat in his car parked outside of London’s house with his binoculars in one hand, and his phone in the other. It felt wrong that he was there, spying on his department’s intern that he had grown to become friends with.

Friends care about and help friends. London needed help. That much was clear and had been subtly obvious since day one, the only part left unclear was from what.

***TRIGGER WARNING: ACT (AS MENTIONED ABOVE) BEGINS***

He sat watching through the large front bay window as she stood to her father, which Garcia and other research found to be Bruce, until he pressed her against a wall and moved his face close to hers.

There was a look of resistance on London’s face before he said something that made it drop into defeat and she let her father push her down the hallway.

Spencer had a sick feeling in her stomach. So far, everything that was happening had matched with him, Morgan’s, and Prentiss’s theories. Someone was molesting their intern, they just weren’t sure who.

Watching through the window, Reid watched as London was pushed into the middle of the room. It looked like it was hers, the light blue walls seemed to fit the girl so well he wasn’t sure whose else room it could be.

Spencer hated watching, but he knew that if there was another witness it would make it that much easier to put the bastard away once this was over.

With that in mind, he watched as the girl shook her head at her father before he slapped her face, and moved to close the blinds.

He could still see her silouette as she removed her shirt.

It was all he had to see to call Derek Morgan on his phone and say the only words he needed to, “Hey, we were right. It’s her dad.”

***TRIGGER WARNING: ACT (AS MENTIONED ABOVE) ENDS***

One week and one day later, London works at the BAU, and she loves her job and couldn’t think of a time she genuinely disliked it.

That particular Thursday, however, doing anything else was more appealing to London than going to work.

Maybe it was the sinking feeling that someone had figured out her secret with all the questions they had been asking for a week. Maybe it was the day after feeling she had grown used to when she missed curfew for the second week in a row. Maybe it was just because she forgot her lunch money and was even more tired than Wednesday.

She followed her regular routine through the hallways and elevator to the BAU office floor where the desks of the agents were empty, something that wasn’t uncommon when they were out of town on missions and JJ would have Penelope give her tasks or email her a list.

The uncommon part about the desks being empty was that Doctor Reid was standing next to her desk.

She could tell something was wrong. It was established early that Spencer had the worst poker face, and she had gotten significantly better at profiling since the internship had started.

She was determined to find out what was happening. Did something happen to her siblings? Did something happen to her? Was she being fired?

“What’s up, Spence? Why the long face?”

First, he nodded at her desk and then to the conference room, then he spoke to her, “why don’t you set your stuff down and come join the team in the conference room. We have a case we’d like you to see.”

“A case?” She had been allowed to sit in on several briefings, even help JJ give the briefings, and she often helped Penelope when she was incharge of her interning, but they never waited for her so that she could see.

Nodding, Spencer walked next to the girl around the bullpen and up the staircase. “How was school? Did that boy ask you out yet? Did you know that Morgan had Garcia dig into him for you?”

Laughing she shook her head, “You guys are ridiculous.”

There was a shift in the atmosphere when she walked into the conference room. The entire team was sitting there, and it seemed they were waiting for her and Spencer. “What’s going on? Am I getting fired because I swear Morgan was the one who broke the mug on Tuesday.”

“Hey!” Morgan exclaimed as the girl shrugged at him. What she was saying wasn’t entirely true, but she wasn’t about to get fired over dropping a mug because a boy texted her.

Hotch smiled softly at her before calming her, “no, you’re not getting fired, London. Reid, can you close the door?”

“Okay, cool. What’s this about then?”

It got quiet again as the tension in the room was insufferable.

Looking around the room, London watched as every member of the team avoided her eye contact. “What’s going on? I’m not a fan of the whole-everyone-knows-something-London-doesn’t thing.”

Emily looked up to meet her eyes before speaking in a calm and comforting manner, “London, we know what’s happening at home.”

What’s happening at home. Which part? It might not be as bad as London was thinking. Maybe they don’t know about Tuesdays, they only know about Bruce’s drinking problem.

“What? What do you mean, what’s going on at home?” The change in London’s voice was palpable. It was strained, like she was about to cry if it was what she thought it was, which was absolutely true.

JJ cleared her throat softly, “we know what your dad does to you on Tuesdays. And every night you miss curfew.”

London was glad she didn’t move her head to make eye contact with JJ, she kept her eyes unmoving, staring straight in front of her. Her jaw was clenched, her breathing was heavy but steady, and her fingers clenched in and out of fists.

After a few beats of silence, Derek spoke to her, “Lon, it’s okay. We just want to help you.”

London blinked before looking up and diluting her face to a neutral position before asking, “Alright. Are we done here?”

The team wasn’t sure what was worse, how natural ignoring trauma was to a seventeen year old, or the fact she was so calmly numb to the fact that there were tears rapidly falling down her face without notice from her.

Spencer then did one of the most unexpected things that he could have done, he walked up to the girl and pulled her into his arms. It was then the dam broke and London started sobbing uncontrollably, moving to clutch the man in a hug.

“It’s okay, London. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

-

concepts for a part 2/series

[steebharringt0n]

Shadows of the Night | Vampire AU

dusk | night | dawn

Billy Hargrove doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen sunlight, or the last time he’s stepped inside a church. For over 500 years he’s been a vagabond, a wanderer, searching for a place to call home - until his travels land him in Hawkins, Indiana and his whole existence as he knows it is turned upside down.

pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader rating: m (blood, a tint of smut, abuse, language)

A/N: WOW SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO POST BUT THANK U FOR ALL THE RESPONSES AND FOR YOUR PATIENCE ILU ALL

Tagged: @killer-queen-xo @ephmrl-love @charmed-asylum @aillle8 @mattysheelies

—

Part 2 - Night

You were panicking.

Your foot was glued to the gas pedal, racing to beat the clock as time continued to dwindle by. You cursed the long and windy roads in Hawkins, they felt like they went on forever.

Stealthily and quickly, you managed to switch out of your heels and fishnet stockings while driving, it was a skill that was now second nature to you. Reaching behind you, you grabbed your converse, shoving one foot in at a time while you pulled over a large sweatshirt over you, effectively covering the skin tight dress you had on.

As soon as you pulled into your street, you made a sharp stop before your house. Grabbing the makeup wipes from your glove compartment, you hurriedly erased any evidence, wiping the ruby red lipstick off your lips, and the fake vampire bite off of your neck.

Incidentally, you also managed to wipe away the concealer that hid the dark purple marks around your neck.

You ran your hand through your hair, trying your best to smooth out the large curls that bounced with every shake of your head. When you felt presentable enough, you finally pulled into your driveway. Your eyes were glued to the front window where the faint glow of the TV was illuminating the living room floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you quietly muttered to yourself.

You threw your heels and fishnet stockings in the back of your car, grabbing your large purse that you had purposely placed there as well. Stepping out of your car, you composed yourself, trying hard to calm your frantic beating heart. With a deep inhale, you took the cautious steps up your porch, opening the front door and was greeted with the harsh scent of beer hitting your nose.

“D-dad? I-I’m home”

You tip-toed in the foyer, poking your head into the living room where you were met with the back of your father’s head, several beer cans were discarded around his feet.

You waited for a response, for anything, but were met with silence.

Silence was either a bad thing, or a good thing. You held your breath as you quietly walked over to him, your eyes shut as you pleaded to whatever gods above that he was passed out. When you finally reached him, you let out a sigh of relief.

He was knocked out, his mouth wide open with a half empty beer can in his hand.

You didn’t want him to spill the beer, so you gently reached over to his hand, trying your best to pull it out of his grasp but his other hand suddenly shot to your wrist, squeezing it tight. A yelp escaped from your mouth.

“You’re late” he slurred.

Your anxiety was through the roof, tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “I-I’m sorry Dad, Amber and I lost track of time at dinner, I promise it won’t happen again” you blubbered out, hoping that he’d believe your lie. He wasn’t easing up on his grip, but after a few seconds he threw your wrist back to you.

“Don’t let it fucking happen again” he hissed, taking a large chug.

You nodded quietly at him, your other hand gently rubbing where his painful grip was. You were sure to see marks on it tomorrow but you were an expert at covering up your bruises.

You soundlessly made your way upstairs, not wanting to rile him up any longer. You shut your bedroom door and rested your back behind it, sliding down and letting all the anxiety disseminate in that moment. You held your face in your hands, trying to remember to breathe through it all.

He wasn’t always like this. You have fond memories of a happy childhood, white picket fence and all. But out of the blue, your mother had up and left the both of you, claiming that this wasn’t the life for her. She had disappeared into thin air and you hated her for it.

It was then your father turned to drinking and started to blame you for everything. His problems at his job? Your fault. Your mother leaving the both of you? Your fault. His alcoholism? Your fault.

Everything in his eyes was your fault, you could do no right, even when you pulled the best grades in Hawkins.

You became his punching bag, his release for all his anger, his issues, and you had no escape.

You lifted your head back up and glanced up at the calendar that rested above your desk. November 7th had a large circle over it, it would be the day you turned 18 - it would be the day you finally could escape his wrath.

“Just one more week, just one more week and I’m outta here” you muttered to yourself.

You weren’t sure where to go, but you didn’t care. Since you were still 17 you weren’t legally allowed to leave the house yet. You graduated from Hawkins High with top marks but you decided to put university on pause - wanting to taste the world before you settled on school again. You had some money saved up from odd jobs here and there but you wanted to stay far away from the monster in the living room. He would effectively have no power over you and for the first time in your life, you felt like life wouldn’t be so bad.

You felt your phone buzzing, you pulled it out of your sweatshirt and swiped it open.

amber: hey u made it home ok?

y/n: yeah, i’m home thnx for checking up

Amber was your best friend, she had urged you multiple times to go talk to Hopper, but you knew it would just cause more issues than solve them. You were strong, you could withstand him for just one more week.

Your mind suddenly remembered the pale boy with the vampire costume. You quickly searched through your contacts until you found his name. Your thumb hovered over the texting symbol, debating on whether bringing a boy into your life would be worth it.

But something about him was … different … you couldn’t put your finger on it but he seemed off. He was incredibly gorgeous though, and you were surprised that he, out of all people in the party, paid any attention to you. Not to mention you had never seen the guy before, and everyone in Hawkins knew everyone.

“Fuck it” you said to yourself.

y/n: hey billy, it’s y/n from the party?

Instantly the text bubble appeared, you were surprised at how quickly he responded.

billy: hey gorgeous, sad to see you leave so early

What you didn’t know however, was that he was parked right across the street. His eyes were hyper-focused on your bedroom window. He was debating on whether scaling the tree or just watching you from afar. He knew it was a creep move but he didn’t care, he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

You let out a snort as you read his text.

y/n: ha, quite the charmer are you?

billy: i tend to charm the ladies here and there, what r u up to tonite?

y/n: bed, maybe watch some netflix, nothing too crazy.

billy: when can i see u again?

Billy was impatient, he had to catch a glimpse of you before the day broke again.

y/n: idk … we could hang tomorrow? maybe grab lunch?

An innocent lunch wouldn’t hurt you thought to yourself. What’s the harm in getting to know a cute boy?

Billy let out a huff, damn being a vampire.

billy: can’t, i’m busy all day and afternoon. maybe we can grab dinner if u want? i can pay ;)

You felt your heart start to race. Was he asking you out on a date? He hardly knew you.

y/n: r u asking me out on a date? lol

billy: if you want it to be

y/n: you hardly know me

billy: i can get to know you tomorrow night

A tiny smile appeared on your lips.

y/n: sure lol. pick me up tomorrow at 8. my address is 3843 willow lane. dont knock on my door just give me a text when youre here.

billy: sounds good, sweet dreams gorgeous ;)

You locked your phone and tossed it onto your bed. You stood back up, pulling off your sweatshirt and kicking off your converse. You unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the ground and pulled on a pair of cotton shorts and your Hawkins High sweatshirt.

You grabbed your laptop from your desk and walked over to your bed, pulling over the covers and settling yourself into the warmth of your comforter. You opened up your laptop and proceeded to open up Netflix to help you fall asleep.

Billy’s leg impatiently bounced up and down as he sat in his car. He watched as the light in your room turned off and as the light in the living room also turned off. He figured whoever was in the living room had also gone to bed, so he decided to make a move.

Moving stealthily and quickly, he ran over to your lawn, hoping that none of the neighbors would spot him. With his cat like reflexes he climbed up the tree outside of your room with ease, perching himself on a large branch that luckily extended out to your room.

His eyes scanned your bedroom, posters of different bands were hung up on your wall, a white desk sat in the corner, but his heart leapt when he finally landed on your sleeping figure. The soft glow of the laptop illuminated your face as you quietly slept through whatever TV show you were watching.

Even with your hair messily scattered on the pillow and your cheek pressed up against your arm you looked beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous. His fingers were aching to touch you, even if just for a second.

“Oh fuck this”

His hands found themselves on the bottom of your window, he gently lifted it up, opening enough space for him to squeeze into your bedroom. With a soft thud, he landed into your room.  He waited a second to see if anyone or anything had been awakened by the noise, but luckily he was met with silence.

He walked over to your sleeping figure, he so badly wanted to crawl right beside you and hold you against his body but he fought strongly against it. He instead, sat right beside you, watching you as your chest rose and fell with every breath you took.

His fingers found themselves playing with the tendrils of your hair. He gently pulled back your hair to reveal your supple neck, but his eyes widened at what he saw instead.

Hot anger coursed through his body like poison. His eyes turned a dark red and his fangs promptly appeared. Billy was ready to attack, and your panicked demeanor at the party suddenly made sense to him.

His knuckles brushed up against the dark marks on your neck. The feeling of your skin on his hand sent shivers down his spine, it soothed his anger as it slowly dissipated out of him. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“I promise to get you out of here … if it’s the last thing I do” he whispered to you.

He felt you stir in your sleep, shifting around soundlessly. You cracked open your eyes as you felt a figure hover over you. You lifted your head up, looking around your bedroom.

But there was no one there, just the soft breeze of the wind rustling your posters in your bedroom.

You frowned, throwing your legs over your bed and walking to your window. You poked your head out, looking to see if anyone was out there, but you were met with the still of the night.

You shut your window close and threw yourself back into bed.

“Huh, must have been dreaming … “ you said to yourself as sleep quickly overtook you again.

—

You awoke the following morning with a stinging pain in your wrist. You lifted it up, inspecting the dull ache as the dark marks began to stain your skin. You let out an annoyed sigh, walking over to your bathroom and promptly starting a hot shower.

After washing your hair and scrubbing your skin, you then did your usual routine of concealing your bruises. You popped some Tylenol in hopes that it would soothe the ache in your wrist.

You waited to see if Billy would text you throughout the day, but you were disappointed to find that he didn’t. You didn’t let it deter you from the date you had planned with him tonight.

You stayed in your bedroom for most of Saturday, only heading downstairs to grab a bite to eat. Your father mostly ignored your presence as you did his.

As it was nearing 8, you went downstairs to the living room to find your father still glued to the couch with a beer in his hand.

“Dad?”

His eyes were glued to the TV. He acknowledged your presence by letting out a grunt.

“I’m gonna grab dinner with Amber tonight if that’s okay … “ your voice trailed off as you anxiously chewed the inside of your cheek.

He rolled his eyes towards you, they were glossy and bloodshot.

“Fine”

You nodded at him, uttering a thank you and walking back up stairs. As soon as you reached your bedroom, you began to plan your outfit, You figured jeans and a cute top would be good enough for tonight. You kept your makeup simple, some mascara and lipgloss, you weren’t necessarily trying to woo him tonight, just getting to know him.

It was only a date anyways.

At 8 on the dot your phone buzzed, you were trying to play it cool, but you were lying to yourself if you said you didn’t feel a little excited. You hadn’t been on a date in a long time, let alone with a gorgeous boy.

billy: hey beautiful, i’m outside

Grabbing a light jacket, you walked down the stairs, trying not to seem hurried in front of your dad.

“I’ll be back around 10 dad” you told him as you left. But yet again, you were met with silence. You were trying not to let anxiety gnaw at your stomach, you refused to let your dad ruin your date. So you quietly left your house and ran over to the blue car that was parked across the street.

Billy was lucky enough to find a close friend of Walt’s living in the next town over. He had texted Walt around 4 AM to see if he could spot anyone who could house him for the next couple of days. Victoria Marino - a sweet old vampire who had lived for almost as long as Walt was happy enough to have Billy stay over. It had been years since she had company, especially a vampire stay at her home.

“Walt told me everything” she told him. Billy towered over her, she was a frail little thing, but was sharp as hell. She gently grasped his shoulders, “You musn’t give up on love Billy, fight for her. Finding your Beloved is a powerful thing for us vampires, human or not”

He was more than happy to have someone on his side - even though he knew Walt was still vehemently against all of this.

You caught him standing outside his car, a pair of aviators rested against his nose, his mouth in a wide grin. His heart sped up as you approached him, he instinctively wished to scoop you up in his arms and place kisses all over you, hold you close until the dawn broke, but instead he controlled himself as you stood in front of him.

With a soft smile you greeted him, “Hi”

He returned the smile back, “Hey”

He promptly then walked over to the passenger side, opening the door for you, “Our reservation at Enzo’s awaits for us”

You raised your eyebrows, “Enzo’s? That’s pretty expensive, you didn’t have to go all out”

Billy shrugged, “It’s no big thing, it is the nicest place in town”

You stared at him for a brief second, wondering why on earth this guy you’d just met was pulling all the stops for you. With the slight shake of your head you let out a soft laugh and entered his car. You gazed around in awe at how nice his car was, everything looked brand new, it even still had that brand new smell.

“Holy shit you have a really nice car” you told him as he sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Ah, you should have seen my 78′ Camaro, that engine purred”

“Big car guy eh?”

A smirked donned on his lips, “Yeah, I guess you could say that”

—

The car ride to Enzo’s was filled with good music and Billy asking you 101 questions about yourself - which you didn’t mind, but you found it odd that whenever you asked about his family, he instantly changed the subject. Anything personal about him was very vague and very brief.

You didn’t want to admit to yourself that it raised warning bells in your head, you wanted to stay positive about the experience, hopeful that maybe this guy would be the one you’d spend the rest of your life with.

He was a gentleman the whole way there, letting you pick the music, not speaking over you, genuinely interested in everything you had to say. It was refreshing to say the least.

When the both of you arrived at Enzo’s he instantly ran out and over to your side, opening the door for you. He extended his hand for you to take and you took it, gently pulling you out of your seat.

He tossed his key to the valet parking, “Take care of her will ya buddy?” he patted the guy on his shoulder, handing him a 50 dollar bill.

fuck I think this guy is loaded you thought to yourself.

Billy wrapped his arm around you, the both of you walking step by step into the restaurant. The gesture made you feel all warm and tingly inside, for once in your life you actually felt safe around a male presence.

The two of you were quickly seated, Billy specifically asking for a private table.

“Of course Mr. Hargrove, please follow me” the host said.

With his arm still wrapped around your shoulder, you glanced up at him, “Billy, seriously, you didn’t have to go all out … you only just met me yesterday … “ you muttered to him.

He shook his head as he pulled your chair out for you, “No, please, this is nothing” he waved your comment off.

You sat down on the chair, watching as Billy came around and sat across from you.

The entire dinner went pleasantly well. Besides some things that made you raise your eyebrow (He told you he was deathly allergic to garlic, and he rarely ate his food, just picked around it). Billy was nothing but kind, warming and inviting to you. It helped that he was charming as hell, and by the time dinner finished, you could see yourself going on another date with him - which usually doesn’t happen.

The drive back to your house was filled with laughter and long talks. You both bonded over bands and artists you both love, about movies, about tv shows. You truly didn’t want the night to end. As he pulled up across the street from your house you hesitated on leaving, anxiety started to pool within your stomach, dreading to be back in the same house as that monster you called your father.

“This was an amazing night Billy, truly, the most fun I’ve had in such a long time” you told him.

He gave you a wide grin, shrugging casually, “Well what can I say?”

The both of you stared at each other in silence, your eyes moving down to his lips. Courage surged through you and you leaned towards him, your one hand placed on his cheek as you placed your lips on his. Billy was surprised to say the least, his blue eyes widened in shock as he felt your soft lips on his, but the shock quickly wore off as he melted into your touch. The warmth of your hand burned the cold of his cheek. You gently pulled away, nuzzling your nose onto his.

Breathlessly, he spoke, “Does this mean I get to see you again?”

You nodded, your thumb rubbing soft circles over the apple of his cheek, “Text me tonight?”

Instead of responding, he placed a chaste kiss on your lips. He wanted the feeling of your lips on his to last forever, and now that he knew he was open to kiss you, he never wanted to stop.

He watched as you got out of his car and made your way back into your house. Before you opened the front door however, you turned around, faced his car and gave him a small wave.

You shut the door quietly behind you, resting your body on it. You had a crush and it was bad. You were grinning like a fool in love and for the first time, in a very long time, things didn’t seem so bad.

You quietly then walked through the foyer until you reached the living room. The TV still on from earlier, and your dad still sitting in the same position. You poked your head in, “Hi dad, I’m back … it’s 9:45 … I’m early” you meekly announced to him.

He gave you no response as he continued to chug his beer. You took that as a good sign.

The minute you reached your bedroom, your phone started to buzz. Instantly you pulled it out of your pocket and smiled stupidly at the text.

billy: did u make it in okay?

y/n: yes im fine lol, i want to see you again … is tomorrow a possibility?

billy: hmm … idk … dinner was kinda boring … ;)

y/n: ha ha ha very funny

billy: of course we can meet up again tomorrow, id love to

y/n: great! i want to take you to the quarry, its amazing, u can see all the stars out there

billy: getting all romantical on me now?

y/n: hey you started this lol, besides a little romance with a cute guy never hurt anyone

billy: you calling me cute?

y/n: duh who else would i be referring to?

Your fingers had never been more glued to your phone. You spent all night texting Billy until you ended up passing out with your phone gripped in your hand. By the time you had passed out, Billy was already getting ready for bed. Victoria had been watching him the whole time as he sat in her living room couch, his fingers typing away furiously with every text he received. Billy swore he heard her mutter an ‘Oy, youths … ‘ at one point which made him chuckle.

It was almost noon by the time you had awakened, the sun beamed in brightly through your bedroom windows. You pulled your phone towards you to check the time but was surprised to see a text from Billy at 4:04 AM.

billy: sweet dreams beautiful girl … <3

The text sent butterflies swarming to your stomach, you threw a pillow over your face to cover up the shit-eating grin you were currently sporting, but a sudden loud banging from your door quickly dissolved all of those emotions.

“There’s no fucking food in the house! Make yourself useful for once and go shopping!”

Your father’s voice roared behind the door, instinctively you pulled the covers over your head, fearing that he was going to come in and hurl more insults at you. But when you heard his footsteps continue down the hall you let out a sigh of relief.

You then quickly got ready for the day, running out towards the local market and buying food for you and your father - not that you ate most of the time at home, you were always feeling too nervous or anxious to eat at home. So you always made excuses to meet up with friends to grab lunch or dinner at a cafe or restaurant nearby.

You were hoping to hear back from Billy throughout the day, but just like the day before he was silent, not a call or text from him. You tried not to let it get to you, you distracted yourself by cleaning up around your room, or watching a show on Netflix, but by the time the sun had started to set you finally received a text from him.

billy: hey beautiful, im on the way

Billy too had fallen asleep in his coffin with his phone glued to his hand. You were the first thing on his mind the instant he awoke - already forming plans for the two of you.

Victoria was kind enough to always lay a full glass of blood for him every morning. The last thing she needed was a love-struck vampire to go into blood-lust mode, there’s no way a vampire can control their actions when going into that head space. They become vicious, relentless and absolutely terrifying. It has happened to Billy only once before and if it wasn’t for Walt being around he was pretty sure that Billy would have slaughtered more humans than intended.

You swiped your phone to unlock it, fingers working quickly as you texted him back,

y/n: c ya soon ;)

You held your phone close to your chest when you realized that you were nowhere ready to go out looking the way you did. You threw your phone on your bed, quickly hopping into the shower and prepping your face. You kept your outfit casual again, with a pair of high-rise jeans, black boots and a cute sweater.

When you heard your phone buzzing, signaling that Billy was outside, you realized one important detail - telling your father that you’d be going out.

There was no way you were going to miss hanging out with Billy, but you knew that if you were to tell your drunk of a father that you were heading out without notifying him earlier, that there was no way that he’d let you out. You glanced over at your window, it was the only option left.

You opened up your window, poking your head outside. Billy watched you with curious eyes from his car as you shimmied out of your bedroom window, reaching towards the large branch from the tree outside your room. Once you were safely perched on the branch, you were able to quickly scale down the large oak tree. You landed softly on the grass, taking in your surroundings before making a mad dash to the car parked across the street.

Billy unlocked his car as you flung open the passenger side door, quickly sitting down and pulling the seat belt over you.

Billy wasn’t stupid - he knew exactly what was going on since he saw the dark marks on your neck. Everything started to make sense to him, your punctuality, the fact he wasn’t allowed near your house. He’d even caught wind of your anxious ticks, the way you bounced your leg restlessly at dinner last night, or how you’d constantly be glancing at the time on your phone.

He didn’t want to pry, it was a delicate subject to touch upon. He just wanted you to be safe - and he only had less than a week to convince you to come with him to New York.

Billy played it stupid to keep you comfortable.

“Sneaking out today are we?” he smirked as he pulled out of your neighborhood.

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing your neck, “Y-yeah, you know how parents can be”

Billy wouldn’t know, he hasn’t seen his in over 500 years and Walt always let him do whatever he wanted, just as long as he played it safe.

“So, where is this quarry that you speak of?” he asked, pulling up his phone and opening up Google maps.

“No need for GPS, I can guide you there, just take a left at this upcoming road, then keep going straight until you reach Richland Road, then it’s just a straight shot from there on out. You can’t miss it, trust me”

He nodded at your words, pulling out of the neighborhood and following your guidance until he reached the infamous quarry - and you were right, it was the perfect place to see stars.

You eagerly stepped out of his car, your eyes gazing up to the dark sky that was illuminated by thousands if not hundreds of bright speckles.

In all of his 500 years of living, Billy had never seen such a thing. Sure he’d been all around the world, but he had never seen the sky lit up so bright until tonight. He followed you, stepping out of his car, his eyes glued to the sky. 

“Shit, you weren’t kidding ... “ he muttered to you.

“Yeah ... I’m gonna miss it” you spoke wistfully.

His eyes shot back down to you, his lips puckered into a frown. “What do you mean?”

You broke out of your gaze, not realizing what you had just said. A half smile formed on your lips as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You rested against the trunk of his car, “I’m uh, leaving Hawkins, in about 5 days ... I’m turning 18 and I’m leaving”

There was a sense of hesitation in your voice, Billy heard it loud and clear. But the fact that you were planning on leaving right when he was supposed to head back to New York ... it was as if fate was working it’s magic. His heart wanted to leap with joy, but he played it cool, calm and collected. He joined you by the trunk of his car, resting his body against it as well.

“Where you heading to?”

You shrugged, “Don’t know, haven’t figured it out”

Billy nodded, still trying to play it cool. “You know, I have a place in New York”

You turned to face him, “Oh yeah?” There was a pregnant pause, “You propositioning me?” a slight smile spread over your lips, your tone turned playful as he blushed.

Billy shifted his feet, feeling the gravel dig underneath his shoes. “I - I ... you know, if you’re looking for a place ... I have a place you know? And New York is pretty cool, I could show you around ... if you want of course!”

You wanted to laugh at his bashfulness, how quickly he was able to go from Mr. Charming Man to a blubbering mess within 10 minutes. You leaned over to him, resting your head on his shoulder. Billy instantly froze the moment he felt your body heat on his. and became more of a statue when your fingers found his - linking them for warmth, but you frowned, squeezing his hand tightly.

“You’re so cold ... “ you commented.

You glanced down at the linked hands, and suddenly came the realization just how pale Billy actually was compared to you. You quickly brushed it off, continuing your gaze to the night sky above.

“Maybe you can join me in California ... get some sun in you eh?” you gently jabbed his side with your elbow as he let out a chuckle.

“I’ve thought about moving to California ... “ he paused as he lets his thoughts meander around his head. California was definitely on his list for places to live, but he couldn’t help but feel bitter at the fact that he couldn’t fully enjoy it. He wanted to learn how to surf so bad, to enjoy the beaches, to hang out by the boardwalk.

But he couldn’t do that without his Beloved by his side.

Your voice broke his thoughts, “Why didn’t you?”

He lets out a large breath through his nose. Sometimes he truly hated being a vampire. “Oh you know, life brought me to New York instead. Maybe one day”

You nodded slowly at his response. Silence then took over the conversation, the both of you just relishing in each other presence. You didn’t want to admit it, but a small part of you was falling for him - and falling hard. A constant battle between your heart and head was currently taking place, and your heart was in the lead.

You’re not sure why, but you felt a sense of peacefulness wash over you whenever you were with him.

But something - call it the universe, call it your gut, call it intuition, - was telling you to stay with him.

“Maybe New York would be good for me ... “ you suddenly spoke.

He glanced down at you, his mouth in a grin so wide you swore you saw all his pearly whites. “Oh yeah?”

“Give me more time to think about it okay?”

He squeezed your small hand. It burned the coldness of his skin but he was far too in love to care. He leaned his head over yours, placing a kiss on your hair.

“Take your time. I’ll be here”

And he was. The two of you were completely attached at the hip the rest of the week, texting each other nonstop, sneaking out to hang with him every night. At this point your father’s drinking has become more rampant, he’d be passed out completely by 7 PM, which gave you a sense of security whenever you sneaked out of the house.

The more you hung out with the blue-eyed blonde, the harder you were beginning to fall for him. Billy was a complete dork in his comfortable nature, you two would blast out cheesy pop songs and sing them at the top of your lungs. Or sneak into a late night movie where he would toss popcorn at your hair every now and then to get your attention. You wondered why he was never available in the morning or afternoon - but when you brought the subject up he would just casually brush it off, explaining that he had work to take care of.

Billy on the other hand, was completely enamored with you. He was sure that the universe did the right thing and made you his soulmate because there was no way in hell he was ever leaving your side - and he was desperately hoping you felt the same way.

Of course things between the two of you got physical. If you both weren’t out doing something, you’d both be out at the quarry, usually in his backseat with his hands underneath your shirt and your fingers tangled in his short curls. He didn’t want to pressure you to go all the way - that would come when it came - but my god was he finding it harder to control himself around you. 

It was November 6th - a day left - when the both of you were fooling around in the backseat of his car. Your thighs wrapped around his waist as your hands found purchase on his face. His lips were everywhere - he could feel your pulse race, your blood run, with every breath you took and it was taking everything in his power not to sink his fangs on your tender neck right there and then.

You pulled away from his lips, gazing into his eyes as you rested your forehead on his. 

“I’m coming with you. To New York” 

Your announcement almost made his heart stop. He gently pulled away from you, an incredulous look on his face, “A-are you serious?”

You bit your bottom lip to keep you from exploding from excitement, but you nodded happily at him. “Yeah, I’ve never been more sure before in my life.”

“Shit. Y/N. We have to celebrate!” He exclaimed. You swore you had never seen a man so happy before. You giggled at how boyishly happy he suddenly turned.

“Slow down there Casanova ... I still need to pack, get all my things together”

“Right, right, yeah, of course” he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to let the news sink into him.

His plan actually worked. He couldn’t wait to tell Victoria and to show boat to Walt.

You gently ran your fingers through his hair as it got quiet in the car. Your eyes filled with love as you gazed down on him. The moon was full tonight, and the bright light that it emitted shone through the car - illuminating Billy. He seemed much more paler than the last several days, and you were starting to wonder if he needed go to see a doctor.

“What?” he questioned urgently, “Do I have something on my face?”

His hands quickly shot up to his face, touching around. You giggled, shaking your head.

“No, you just look really pretty under the moonlight”

A smile spread upon his lips. His hands then reached up to your cheeks, stroking them softly.

“You’re beautiful Y/N. I hope you know that”

You let out a small laugh, “Billy, you tell me that all the time”

“I know but just in case you ever forgot ... “

You shut him up by pressing your lips onto his. He instead found it hilarious to drop his hands from your cheeks, and to squeeze your sides. You pulled away from him as laughter erupted from your mouth, throwing your head back and trying to wiggle away from his grasp. The effort came to be fruitless as you were caught between his body and the back of the passenger seat.

His actions finally stopped, letting you take a moment to catch your breath. He marveled at the way your cheeks glowed a rosy red, and how your eyes twinkled brightly under the moonlight.

You glanced over at the clock on his car, your eyes widened at the time.

“Shit. It’s late. I need to get back”

You pushed yourself off of him, adjusting your shirt and straightening your hair back down. The both of you stepped out of his car to move back up to the front. The entire way back Billy was animatedly talking about all the places he’d take you in New York - but in reality his mind was reeling, wondering how he was ever going to explain to you what he truly was - and if you were to ever accept him.

It was a risk he was going to have to take, and a risk that he was willing to die for.

He pulled up near your house, remembering your strict instructions to never pull up in front of your house.

“I’ll pick you up as soon as the sun sets okay? I’ll be finished with work by then, and we can make it a night trip” he told you.

You nodded happily at him, leaning towards him and pressing a kiss on his cheek. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight ... I’m too excited”

“Happy early Birthday Y/N. I promise tomorrow will be a day you’ll never forget”

He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss. You in return squeezed his hand before you exited out of his car and headed towards your house.

There was an extra hop in your step as you approached your front door, quietly unlocking it with your key. You entered your foyer, your head turning to face the living room, fully expecting to see your father passed out.

But he wasn’t there.

Fear ran it’s cool claws down your neck as panic began to set in. You ran into the kitchen, hoping to see him rummaging in the fridge for another beer. But he wasn’t there either.

You quickly ran up the stairs and ran straight into your room. You swore you had never felt such a sense of fear enter your body than when you saw your father sitting on your bed, his face completely stoic, his eyes blurry and red.

“D-Dad - “

“You little whore”

It was as if venom was pouring out of his mouth whenever he spoke. His eyes darted over to you as his mouth turned into a nasty snarl. He slowly stood up, walking over to you with his fists clenched by his side.

You began to hyperventilate as he towered over you. Your eyes filled with tears as you avoided his death glare.

His hands shot up and grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, pining you to your bedroom door as you yelped in pain.

“You think I’m fucking stupid huh? You think I haven’t seen you sneaking out for the past couple of days like some fucking slut?!”

You quietly sobbed, squeezing your eyes shut as he pinned you harder to the door.

“Answer me!”

He pulled you up, you felt your feet leave the ground as he threw you across your bedroom. Your body landed with a loud thud, spraining your wrist in the process. You let out a loud and painful wail, he watched you with a sick grin on his face as your body was wrecked with sobs.

Shakily, you reached for towards your pocket, pulling out your phone. Your fingers worked nimbly as you found Billy’s name through your texts. You hit the call button and slid your phone under the bed before your father could come and snatch it from you.

You tried pulling yourself up, but pain shot through you as you applied pressure on your wrist, bringing you back down to the floor. Your father stalked over your body as you desperately tried to crawl away from him.

Billy was stopped at a red light when he saw his phone light up with your name on it. With a soft smile, he picked up the phone, “Hey gorgeous miss me - “

“Billy! Help!”

His blood ran cold at the horrific sound of your voice.

“Y/N?”

He heard a loud thud, then followed by an ear-shattering scream. Without even thinking, he pulled a U-turn at the light, his foot pressing hard onto the gas pedal as he was reaching speeds of 90 MPH to reach your house in time. His eyes were turning a dark red, his fangs were fully visible.

There was no stopping in him getting him to you. He would slaughter anyone who would stand in his way.

He stopped his car in front of your house and darted out his car door. He was moving so fast it was as if a wind breeze was passing by. Using his shoulder he broke down the front door and ran up the stairs to your bedroom where he was met with a gut-wrenching scene.

Your father was on his knees, tears pooling out of his eyes as he sobbed over your unconscious body. Your body was splayed out on your bedroom floor, blood trickling down your nose and out of the corner of your head. Your father was too drunk to even realize that Billy had walked into the bedroom, but before he could even glance up Billy had thrown himself on him - pinning him down the floor.

“What the fuck did you do?!” Billy roared at him.

Your father continued to cry as Billy’s fingers squeezed his neck, cutting off his air circulation.

“I - I ... “

But before he could formulate a sentence, Billy had already sunken his fangs into him.

Your father screamed as Billy drained him from all the blood of his body. Leaving the man as a hollow shell, pale and empty. Billy pulled away from him, his body relishing the taste of human blood. He licked his lips, not wanting to drop a single taste a blood from the feeding.

After he was sure he drank all that he could. He ran over to your body, gently lifting your head onto his lap.

“No, no, no, no, Y/N, wake up, please wake up ... “

He put two fingers on your neck, trying to find any indication that you were still alive. He faintly felt a pulse - but he knew that your father had done too much damage.

He had failed you - he had failed to keep his promise.

He let out a whimpering sob, holding your limp body into his arms. Billy knew he could save you, but would you ever forgive him?

He had to make a decision - and quick.

So he scooped you into his arms, bringing your neck to his mouth.

“I’m sorry Y/N ... please forgive me”

He sunk his fangs into your neck and prayed that you would survive the next 24 hours.

[1rosex]

BTS reaction to having a crush on another member’s best friend (Maknae Line)

Request: i dont know if you're still taking requests, but if you are, could you do a bts reaction to falling in love with another member's best friend and being insecure about telling the person his feelings?

Hyung Line

Masterlist

Jimin

Jimin watched as you got out of the car and stepped onto the driveway, and then watched as a stray cat approached you and you crouched down to pet it. He lifted the apple up to his mouth, then felt the warmth of a large hand on his shoulder, dropping the apple in fear. He whipped around and came to face with a surprised looking Taehyung. “Oh- my bad. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Taehyung laughed apologetically and looked out the window, then back at Jimin. “What are you doing? You look kind of creepy standing here and watching my best friend, not gonna lie. I don’t need to warn her to get a restraining order do I?”

Jimin laughed dryly and turned back to the window, you were gone. He scanned the area for a while then picked his apple back up. “No. Just watching the birds.”

“Jimin, I saw you staring directly at Y/N and a cat. They’re not birds last time I checked.You don’t have a crush on her do you?” He asked, studying the younger man’s face. Jimin avoided eye contact and gave a quiet chuckle, his eyes flicking along the driveway. “No.. Why would I? She’s best friends with you Taehyung. Kim Taehyung, the visual man with a great voice. Not like I’d even have a chance there.” The apple crunched as he bit into it, Taehyung furrowed his bold brows in thought. “Think about it Jimin.”

Jimin cocked an eyebrow and gave Tae a confused look, urging him to elaborate.

“She’s friends with me. Friends. We have been best friends for a long time, you would have thought she’d be with me by now if she liked me. And I only think of her as a friend. Yes, I am Kim Taehyung. But you are Park Jimin, and you aren’t any ordinary guy either.” Taehyung gave him a knowing look, then went to answer the door. Jimin followed Taehyung out of the room with his gaze, then turned back to the driveway as you came bounding up to the house. You had been following the cat for a while only to see that it wasn’t a stray afterall. You didn’t even knock on the door before it opened, revealing a smiling Taehyung. “Y/N! Hello.”

You greeted him as you stepped inside, and saw Jimin leaning against the kitchen wall. He smiled shyly at you and waved, which you returned. Taehyung looked at you and then at Jimin, a plan forming in his head.

“Uhm actually.. I have to go run to the store.”

“Oh i can come with-” You started but Taehyung interrupted. “No no, it’s okay I’m just going to run there. Why don’t you stay behind and help Jimin prep for lunch? Please?” He asked. You nodded, having no problem with doing so. Jimin was a good friend of yours too, though you didn’t get much quality time with him. Taehyung gave you both a smile and went for the door, giving Jimin a wink on the way out. Jimin turned to you, a small smile on his face.

“.. Can you come sit with me on the balcony? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Taehyung

“Soo.. just tell him.” Yoongi told you as he took a sip of his coffee. “Just tell him? Just tell him??” You asked with an exasperated sigh. “I can’t do that Yoongi. What if he doesn’t feel the same way and I get rejected? I’d never be able to show my face around here again.”

On the other side of the house, Taehyung was ranting to Jimin who sat across from him, scarfing down his ramen. “Okay. Okay! I’m gonna do it! I am going to tell her and nothing is going to stop me!” Taehyung slammed his hands down on the table and got to his feet, heading for the door. “That’s my man!” Jimin cheered as Taehyung marched out. Not even 10 seconds had passed and Taehyung was already rushing back into the room. “I can’t do it, I can’t tell her” He hid his head in his hands and leaned against the wall. Jimin let out a deep sigh and put down his chopsticks.”Taehyung, you have to tell Y/N sooner or later. If not then I’m just going to tell her myself cause I’m tired of watching you suffer.”

“That won’t happen.” Yoongi sighed. “You don’t know that..” You took a seat on the ground and let out a deep breath, trying to think clearly. This had been torturing you for days, and even the advice of your best friend Yoongi wasn’t helping. He had been encouraging you to confess your feelings, but you were terrified.

“We are going to go tell her right now.” Jimin got to his feet and started to walk out of the room, being promptly chased by Taehyung. “No! Don’t tell her please!” He begged but Jimin didn’t stop. So Taehyung did the only thing he could think of, he tackled him.

“Y/N, if you don’t do this now, you may never know. Tomorrow is never guaranteed. You’re going to keep pushing it off again and again until it’s too late and you’ve missed your chance. You don’t want to live with that, do you? Don’t be stupid. Just tell him, I have your back if anything goes wrong.” Yoongi watched as you stared at the ground, then looked up at him with a smile. “Ah, I knew the soft side of you was in there somewhere yoongles~”

“Shut up and tell him before I go and do it myself.”

You shakily made your way down the stairs, furrowing your brows when you heard shuffling and grunting coming from downstairs.

“Get off Tae!”

“I’m not letting you tell her!”

“Someone has to!”

They suddenly froze when they saw you standing there, Taehyung had Jimin in a chokehold and Jimin had his arms wrapped around his waist. You giggled as Taehyung gave you an embarrassed smile.

“Uhhh.., Tae has something to tell you.” Jimin slipped out of his grasp and sprinted away before he could stop him. Taehyung turned back to you, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I do have something to tell you Y/N..”

“I do too..”

“You go first”

“No you can”

“No-”

“I like you Taehyung” You blurted out.

“ I like you and maybe you don’t feel the same but- wait what??” Taehyung’s mouth dropped. You both stared at each other in disbelief, then Taehyung started smiling.

“Oh my. I never thought I’d hear those words.. But wow am I glad I just did.”

Jungkook

“No Jungkook. Absolutely not. Bad busan bitches don’t catch feelings.” Jungkook mused as he took a drink of his banana milk. “Why would I even like her? She’s only cute. And funny. And kind. And she’s got a stunning voice I could listen to all day. Plus the best personality I’ve ever come across. And she sends me memes and vines...”

“...Who are you talking to?”

“HYUNG” Jungkook jumped a foot in the air, not realizing Jin was in the kitchen, he thought he was alone.

“More importantly, who are you talking about?” Jin asked while smiling knowingly.

“No one. I was just rehearsing a line from a drama I watched.. Haha.. yeah..”

“You couldn’t be talking about my best friend?” Jin asked.

“No, of course not. Why would I? Now if you excuse me, I have practice to get to.” Jungkook huffed and walked out of the kitchen. A second later, he poked his head back in. “You uhm.. Don’t happen to know if Y/N talks about me do you?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? She’s coming over for dinner tonight.”

Jungkook nodded slowly then rushed to his room to get a change of clothes and shower. Not that he cared or anything, though. Cause bad Busan bitches don’t catch feelings, remember?

Later that night, you helped prepare dinner and set the table with Jin. Everyone was gathered around laughing and joking with each other, except for one person. “Y/N you’ve already helped me out tonight so much, and I thank you for it. But can you do me one last favor and go look for Jungkook?” Jin asked you. You were happy to comply, and left the dining room to go find him. You were about to turn the corner to the hallway and ran straight into another figure. You both yelped and fell back, but you soon realized it was just Jungkook.

“Oh my goodness you gave me a heart attack.” You sighed as you put your hand over your chest.

“Well it’s payback for giving me one everyday” Jungkook wheezed.

“What?

“What?” His eyes widened when he realized what he had said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean.. Phew lovely night, gotta go catch some dinner!” He tried to rush past you but you stopped him. “No no, explain”

Jungkook gnawed at his bottom lip with his two front teeth, then sighed and turned to you. “I mean as in.. you make my heart flutter. Oh god that sounds so cheesy now that I said it..”

You gave him a lopsided smile. “Jungkook.. Is that a confession?”

“... would you be afraid if it was?”

“No. Because I like you.” You could see him trying desperately to hide his excitement.

“Then yes. That’s a confession. I like you too Y/N.”

[beatricethecat2]

if/then (2.0) - 24

My brain's been floundering lately as this lockdown has dragged on and on. I've been finding it hard to focus, as I'm sure many of us have. One way of pushing through has been shaping this chapter into something readable. The last few days, I finally fell into a groove (while ignoring other work, but whatever, do it while you can, right?). So thank you B&W for that! This chapter sees them finally hitting the downslope, where pieces start fitting together for realz. I'm fairly certain I've been able to do that while still making sense (let me know if that's not the case.) Stay safe and healthy out there! And as always, typos are all mine. (edited 8/16/20)

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"Mom, wake up! Someone's in the driveway!"

The bed wobbles. Myka's eyes strain to open. It's too early for this. They just drifted off.

"Alright," Helena mumbles, turning away from Myka. "Hand me my robe. It's just over there."

As Helena's warmth recedes, so do the covers. Myka grabs a handful and yanks them up, shielding Christina from an eyeful of her unclothed form.

Helena parts the curtains and light spills across the room. She peers out into the yard as Christina hugs her waist and peeks from behind.

"I'll go down. You stay with Myka," Helena says to Christina.

"But Mom…"

"No buts." Helena crouches down and pulls Christina into a hug.

"You're going like that?" Myka scoots back, propping herself up with the headboard, holding fast to the covers.

"It will buy us some time. I very much doubt they'll want me as is." Helena gestures at her robed, disheveled appearance.

"No, but I do," Myka says, extending a hand.

“Oh, how I wish I could stay," Helena says, walking over. She tugs Myka towards her, causing Myka to fall slightly forward. She plants a kiss on Myka's sleepy lips, her fingers combing through Myka's increasingly wavy hair.

"Hurry back," Myka says as Helena slips out the door. She then shimmies under the covers toward Helena's side of the bed. Reaching down, she scoops up her pants from where she wiggled out them, sliding them on while scanning the room for her shirt. It landed somewhere, but where is a mystery, having been otherwise occupied when it was flung off.

She'd joined Helena after tucking Christina in, a ritual Christina said she'd grown out of, but asked Myka to perform anyway. She'd found Helena in her bedroom, busying herself folding laundry, dressed in only a robe after showering. As the door clicked closed, the robe fell to the floor as if the sound prompted its fluid removal. Myka's heart leaped as Helena rushed toward her, their lips crashing, limbs tangling together. Her shirt was liberated first, the rest in fits and starts until they hit the bed without a shred of clothing on between them.

"Mom!" Christina cries.

"What's happening?” Myka asks, cloaking herself in the blanket and rushing over.

"They opened the door, a-and I thought they were taking her!"

Out the window, Myka sees a man handing Helena a brown bag while a woman watches from the side. Helena peers into the bag and nods then makes her way back into the house.

Christina runs toward the door.

"Wait!" Myka yelps.

Christina freezes.

"Your mom said to stay here." Myka swipes a shirt off the laundry pile and turns away, slipping it over her head. Once it’s on, she lifts her arms, it's a little tight but better than the blanket.

"Sit with me," she says, walking toward the bed and patting the space next to her as she sits.

Christina moves toward her but then steps to the door as feet ascend the stairs.

"What's in the bag?" Myka asks the minute Helena walks in.

"My 'uniform,'" Helena snips, tossing it onto the bed. She plops down next to Myka and breathes out an exasperated sigh.

Christina rushes over and digs thought the bag.

"Hmmm," Helena hums, fingering a neck string attached to Myka's sweatshirt. "This is quite fetching." Her eyes trace the hoodie's neckline, down to the fabric straining to contain Myka's chest.

"I couldn't find my shirt," Myka says, grabbing Helena's hand to stop her fiddling. "How are you so calm?"

"Would you rather I not be?" Helena says, quietly, her eyes motioning towards Christina.

"Mom, look!"

All attention swings towards Christina.

Though the situation is grim, Myka can't help but chuckle. Oversize, black-rimmed glasses sit slightly askew, covering Christina's eyes, while a long, dark wig perches precariously on her child-sized head.

"That's what's in the bag?" Myka says.

"As I said, my' uniform.' Plus 'professional' clothes. You know the sort," Helena answers. She swipes her phone from the nightstand and snaps a picture of Christina, her serious "adult" pose clashing adorably with her cat-print pajamas.

"Can you stay for breakfast?" Christina asks.

"Doubtful," Helena answers. "Might you make me something to take away while I change? Something simple, marmite on toast, perhaps?"

"Blech." Myka sticks her tongue out.

"You two can make a feast together once I'm gone."

"But I wanted to have breakfast together like we used to," Christina whines.

"And we shall, my love, when I return." Helena plucks the wig and glasses from Christina’s head and drops them in the bag.

"When will that be?"

"Tomorrow at best. Let's aim for that."

A car horn blares. Everyone flinches.

"Let's be off," Helena says, shepherding Christina out the door while extending a hand toward Myka.

*

In her absence, Helena suggested Myka and Christina follow her and Christina's usual routine. This meant a large breakfast first, one which Christina insisted on cooking, excited to show off her skills. On the menu was Crempogs, "Welsh pancakes, like American ones, not English," plus eggs over-medium with locally-sourced bacon and thickly buttered toast. It was an excellent meal, and Myka was impressed with Christina's culinary skills, but she could feel her veins clogging.

Next was their Sunday shop, which meant traveling out of the village. Myka climbed into the Rover and palmed the gearshift, pressing pedals, refreshing her memory of manual transmissions. Christina chimed in, because, of course, Helena was already teaching her the motions. She even offered to drive to the end of the driveway, but Myka politely declined.

The car started up on the first try, though it was touch and go at first, clutch grinding, chassis shaking every time she changed gears. But traffic was light, and they weren't in a hurry, so she eased into learning the machine's quirks.

"Can we have a picnic?" Christina asks, a few hours later, as they unload their groceries into the kitchen. "We usually go when the sun's out."

"Go where?"

"Different places. We could go to Mom's favorite."

"How far is it?" Myka's hard won equilibrium with the Rover was tenuous at best.

"Not that far," Christina answers, but what Myka hears is it's much farther.

Myka looks out the window. It’s an absolutely gorgeous day, full of fluffy white clouds set in a sky of technicolor blue, transforming the landscape into an undulating sea of verdant green. But there's one caveat that could thwart their plan. If it's deep in the mountains, that could be a problem.

"We shouldn't go if it's out of cell range."

"Mom can find me anywhere. I have a special phone."

"Of course you do," Myka says with a sigh. She should have known Helena's prepared Christina for anything.

*

Christina chats non-stop the entire drive as she did on their shopping trip, though the conversation then centered around cooking and food festivals. This time, it's Helena's fortifications; their "getaway" car in the shed (some sort of sportscar that "goes really fast!"), their panic room in the basement ("the door's hidden..."), and plans they've made to run if they ever felt threatened ("Mom said we'd go to a safe house. Kinda cool, like in a movie). All details an average ten-year-old would have no reason to memorize. She's both proud of Christina and concerned for her safety.

Myka pulls over as they pass the sign for Carreg Cennen and parks on the road's shoulder. They unload their picnic gear then carry it up a steep hill. It's a hike to the grounds, but one well worth it, for the scene is unlike any Myka's experienced before.

"That's quite a view," Myka says, peering cautiously over the limestone cliff, a sheer drop down to the valley, butted up against a weathered, stone wall. The castle itself is a beauteous ruin, straight out of Arthurian legend. The drama of it speaks to Helena's tastes, the extremes of height and history fitting the bill.

"It's from the fourteen-hundreds," Christina says, matter-of-factly. "Owain Glyndŵr fought for Welsh independence here. Do you know who he is?"

"I don't."

“Mom’s really good at telling the story."

"I'll ask her when she's back," Myka says, smiling at the thought, thrilled to be able to say those words and mean them. She lays a blanket down on a patch of grass, far enough away from the grazing sheep so as not to disturb them.

"Sounds like someone's proud of being Welsh," Myka says.

"I wish I was more Welsh, like Mom." Christina sets the picnic basket on the blanket and sits cross-legged next to it.

"Your grandfather was English, right? That's close."

"English, yuck," Christina says, sticking out her tongue. "I'm probably only a quarter Welsh anyway because Mom doesn't know who my dad is."

A heaviness fills Myka's chest; she opened that door, albeit accidentally, and Christina walked right through. Helena really did tell her everything and the poor girl’s had no one to confide in.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Myka asks, scooting closer and lifting the basket lid.

"I got really mad at Mom when she told me. Really mad. Like, I didn't talk to her for weeks."

"You seem pretty close now," Myka says, emphasizing the positive. She hands Christina a paper plate and a sandwich.

"I'm still mad at her sometimes." Christina looks down, plucking at the sandwich's plastic wrapping half-heartedly.

"I'm sure she understands," Myka says, setting her sandwich aside and laying a hand on Christina's shoulder. "It seems like you worked through it."

"I guess. She got really depressed, and it scared me. Then she fell off the roof, fixing the chimney and broke her ankle. I had to take care of her."

"Oh, honey." Myka circles an arm around Christina pulls her close.

"S-She was on crutches and couldn't drive. She kept working on the house even though she wasn't supposed to. And she slept on the couch because she couldn't get up the stairs. She didn't eat much. Or sleep. It was really bad." Christina sinks into Myka's embrace, burying her nose into Myka's shoulder.

Myka holds Christina tight, imagining a miserable Helena would be with her wings clipped. "She's pretty healthy now, your mom," she says, shifting the focus. "Your cooking helped. I can tell."

"How?"

"She's less skinny than she used to be."

Myka was impressed by how not emaciated Helena was as they explored each other's bodies the other night. So much so that she even commented, to which Helena replied...

"You're saying I'm fat?"

"No! Still too thin, but at least there's a little meat on your bones. I like it. It's sexy."

Helena huffed an indignant breath as Myka continued trailing kisses towards her navel. Helena's abs weren't quite pillowy, but they were less taut than when she was working construction. This meant she was eating regularly and not running herself ragged, which boded well for the future.

"You helped, too," Christina says, knocking Myka into the present.

"Me? How?"

"We missed you so much; I said we should write you letters, even if we couldn't send them. Mom wrote pages and pages and pages. And I made drawings! We both did. But she hid them, so I don't know where they are."

How many times can Myka tear up on this trip? She hugs Christina closer and sways back and forth, blinking back moisture pooling at the corner of her lids. As soon as Helena gets back, she’s getting her hands on those letters. But for now, she'll settle for spending time with this incredible little girl, hearing her stories in real time.

*

"I don't want to go," Christina says.

"I don't want to take you," Myka admits.

"Can you call in and say I'm sick?"

"I'll try. What's the number?"

It's the next morning, and Helena's not back yet, so Myka and Christina go through the motions of preparing for school. The next step involves driving the Rover or asking someone else to pick Christina up, both of which Myka would rather avoid.

"It's here," Christina says, walking over to the fridge and pointing to a list.

Myka sees police, fire, school, Sondra, Owen, plus a few other names she doesn't recognize. She dials the school, and it rings a few times, then she immediately gets put on hold.

"Bore da," a woman greets a few moments later.

"Hi, um, hello?" Myka answers.

"Good morning. How can I help you?"

"I'm, um, calling in sick for Charlotte, Charlotte..." Myka looks at Christina and mouths "help me." For the life of her, can't remember Christina's fake last name.

"Llewell—"

"Llewellyn." Myka nods in thanks.

"Harry's child?"

"Yes."

"And you are?"

"Myka Bering. Harry's out of town on work. I'm taking care of her."

"Hm. You're not listed as a guardian, so that's an unexcused absence for Charlotte. And Charlotte's running the risk of…oh, hang on..."

Muffled conversation flows in the background, but Myka can't make out what's being said.

"Not to worry. Sondra'll stop by the house and confirm. She's on her way."

“Um, thanks."

"Da boch!" the woman says and ends the call.

Myka sighs. It's way too early for Sondra. But maybe Christina can handle her. "I couldn't do it, but Sondra can apparently? She's stopping by. What should we tell her?"

Christina smiles. "It'll be ok. I'll say I want to spend time with you because you're leaving."

"She'll be ok with that?"

"Yeah."

"If you say so."

As they wait, Myka makes herself a second cup of coffee and helps Christina clean up from breakfast. She combs her fingers through her hair, contemplating putting it in a bun as it's not behaving well in its semi-curly state. But it's better today than yesterday as her night with Helena left it sticking up every which way. Last night was all about sleep, with Christina in tow, snuggling up for comfort just like the old days.

Christina runs to the window as a car approaches. When her shoulders slump, Myka's sure it's Sondra, not Helena.

Myka slips on her borrowed parka and boots then steps out the door. Christina trails behind.

"Alright?" Sondra greets, eyes darting between them.

"We're ok," Myka says, placing a hand on Christina's back as she huddles near.

"Harry's off then?"

"Yeah, something in Cardiff? She said you'd know."

"Damn collector, always fiddling with things last minute. Says the money's good, but why'd she go now, while you're here? You're off soon, aren't you?"

"I'm staying until she gets back."

"Well, alright then," Sonda mumbles, but her eyes say she's not quite buying their alibi.

"Oh, but, um…that thing you asked me to do?" Myka's lips lift into crooked half-smile. "Yeah, we, um, well…we did it." At least that's a factual detail she can give freely.

"Oh, thank heavens!" Sondra gushes. "It's about bloody time—"

All eyes swing towards the sound of tires crunching over gravel. Christina runs towards a massive black SUV as it pulls to a stop. She jumps up and down, hoping to catch a glimpse of who's inside, zooming past a lithe blonde who steps out, nearly hopping into the driver's seat fully.

"Where's Mom?" Christina asks, climbing down from the running board.

"She's not here," Morgana answers, looking directly at Myka. "There's been a complication."

" Where's Mom?" Christina presses, circling around to face Morgana.

Morgana holds Christina's steady, pleading gaze but doesn't offer an answer.

"Charlotte, come here," Sondra says, eyes darting between Morgana and Christina.

Christina doesn't move.

"Charlotte!"

Christina looks over her shoulder but stays put. Sondra waves her closer, face pinching, forming a stern mom-look. Christina's shoulders sag, and she drags her heels as she ever so slowly joins her.

"She's a friend of Harry's," Myka says to Sondra.

"A 'friend,' like you?"

"No. Yes. Sort of? But that's not..." Don't go there, stay vague. "Harry trusts her."

"Oh, does she now?"

"Yes."

"Do you?"

"I do." Myka looks at Morgana and twists her lips into a weak smile to show evidence of her truthfulness.

Morgana raises a sharp brow, conveying a "we don't have time for this" urgency.

"I'll get my things—"

"I'm coming too!" Christina angles towards Myka, but Sondra grabs her shoulder and holds her back.

"You're staying here, where you're safe," Sondra says, gathering Christina closer.

"She'll be safer with us," Morgana says.

"Says the Mistress of Doom," Sondra snips.

"No, she's right," Myka agrees.

"Why should I trust her? Trust you?" Sondra glares at Myka.

"You've seen us together, Harry and I. You know Harry trusts me," Myka says.

"I want to go with Myka. Can you take care of Mr. Bubbles?" Christina asks Sondra.

"We'll bring him with us, love," Sondra says, softening her tone. "You're staying here, with us, where you can play music with Bethan whenever you like."

"I want to go with Myka."

"Please, Sondra. She'll be safe with me, I promise. I'd never let anything happen to her." Myka puts on her most convincing smile, praying to whatever god might be listening that she can keep that promise. "And if she says Charlotte should come with us," Myka says, gesturing towards Morgana, "then she should. For everyone's safety."

"I advise you take this Mr. Bubbles creature with you," Morgana says to Sondra.

"You can't take the child out of school for days," Sondra says.

"She will be safer with us," Morgana repeats, but less deadpan.

"Now you're scaring me."

"We'll call to say we're ok. We are going call and say we're ok." Myka directs the last sentence to Morgana.

"Charlotte can call," Morgana says.

"Is that good enough?" Myka asks Sondra.

Sondra looks between Myka and Morgana, then down at Christina, who is giving her the biggest puppy-dog "please" eyes, ever. "Bugger me," she says, and releases her hold.

Christina shuffles next to Myka.

"If anything happens to her…"

"She won't leave my side. I promise." Myka lays a hand on Christina's back. "Let's go pack."

"I'm already packed," Christina says. "We should take Mom's bag, too."

"Good idea. I'll pack while you grab those," Myka says.

Sondra sighs. "Rabbit duty it is, then."

Sondra, Myka, and Christina walk towards the house together.

"Maybe take the perishables in the fridge," Myka adds.

Sonda stiffens.

"Trust me. The less you know, the better," Myka says, the irony of her saying the phase not lost on her. She's on the inside now, where cryptic sentences flow like mantras. She wishes it felt better than it does.

*

"Is Mom ok?" Christina asks, leaning forward over the console, inserting herself between Myka and Morgana.

"She's safe," Morgana answers, as bluntly as ever, turning onto the main road from the driveway.

"Safe where?" Myka asks.

"With the police."

"The police?" That's not an option Myka had considered. "Why take her and not you too?"

"She was already on her way back. Someone must have tipped them off."

"Who?"

"To be determined. But very few people could have known her whereabouts. It's for the previous charge, the one she ran from, not what we just did. They're taking her back to London."

"To jail?" Christina blurts.

"No, custody. At the police station. Like last time."

"Oh." Christina's face pales. She withdraws into her seat.

"She'll be ok. We'll visit her," Myka says, shifting to face Christina.

"She can. You can't," Morgana says.

"Why?"

"Everything's been reset. We have to stick to our previous roles."

"Surely those have shifted. I was just at their house!"

"They don't know that. Nor do they need to know." Morgana glances briefly at Christina. Christina frowns and sinks further into her seat.

"It's going to be ok," Myka says, adding a small smile, one that downturns into a grimace as she turns to face front. Why does Morgana have to be such a…a...what did Sondra call her, a doomsayer? Something like that. That pretty much sums her up.

The car quiets as they drive out of the mountains and into the valleys. Myka checks on Christina from time to time, hoping to find her sprawled out asleep, but instead, her nose stays pressed to the window. Morgana's tone may be as irritating as ever, but she's thankful she's here, handling whatever this may become. But every time she glances at her, she groans internally, knowing her involvement has multiplied tenfold since she and Helena's night together.

They laid motionless, save for their chests rising and falling, breaths deep and calm, muscles so limp it was as if they'd melted together. Helena's arm draped over Myka's midriff as her head nestled into Myka's shoulder. Myka's chin rested on the crown of Helena's head, her fingers brushing lazy circles over Helena's back. After hours spent satisfying their starved libidos, their bodies were drained, but their minds remained restless due the uncertainties of what was to come.

"Tell me about Morgana," Myka asked, and at the question, Helena tensed. She was unsure why, out of everything, that question came out of her mouth. But Helena had said to ask her anything, so they might as well start there.

Helena lifted her head and placed a soft kiss on the side of Myka's breast. She then pushed away and rolled over, laying flat on her back. Myka turned and laid her head on Helena's shoulder, nuzzling her ear into the hollow beneath Helena's collarbone, getting comfortable as she awaited an answer.

“We did meet at Stanford. And we dated. Off and on. It ended badly."

"I guessed that," Myka said, the confimation sending a giddy jolt through her chest. "How did Claudia not know?"

"'Dating' may be overstating the situation. It was more a…torrid affair. Circumstances dictated it remain clandestine."

"Circumstances?"

"At the time, as an aspiring Naval officer, being romantically involved with anyone of the same gender was detrimental to her career."

"You got caught."

"Yes. And it ended immediately. Zero contact. I was devastated, though I knew it was inevitable. "

"You were in love." Myka rolled away, onto her back, her smugness fading, shifting to dismay.

"When you're young, you've no idea what love truly is." Helena turned to face Myka and laced their fingers together.

Myka's hand tightened, but not enough to elicit a reassuring press. Her jealously over a years-old affair was ridiculous, but at the moment, hard to shake. "Then you met her again, as Emily, when you started working for MacPherson?"

"No." Helena squeezes Myka's hand, then releases it, and lies flat on her back again. "She resurfaced a few years after university, requiring my computer skills and deductive reasoning. She wanted to 'wow' her new bosses at Interpol with her ability to source information. I worked for her for years, under the radar, retaining a facade as struggling single mother."

"But she broke your heart. Why would you help her?"

"Time heals some wounds. And at first, it wasn't much bother. Her choosing me flattered my ego more than anything. And raising my child remained my priority. The supplemental income was quite welcome."

"So you dug up dirt on Macpherson."

"Amongst other things—"

"Wait..." Myka turned to face Helena, propping her head up on her hand, elbow bent, excitement rushing through her veins. "You were my anonymous source for the sale!" Yet another puzzle piece fell into place.

"Yes," Helena said, shifting and mirroring Myka's pose. "You're not cross with me?"

"I'm not thrilled, but I like it was you helping me."

"Thank you," Helena said, skimming a hand up, over Myka's shoulder, threading her fingers into her hair. She brushed a thumb over Myka's ear, prompting Myka to turn and kiss her palm.

"Emily Lake, did Morgana set that up?" Myka continued, resisting Helena's attempt to sidetrack her.

"No. That was Mrs. Frederic." Helena withdrew her hand. "And I rue the day I met that woman."

"So do I," Myka said, scooting closer and gently pressing on Helena's bruised shoulder, guiding her to lie flat again. She then laid her head on Helena's upper arm and slid her hand across Helena's stomach. "How did you meet her?"

Helena circled her arm, the one Myka's head was resting on, around Myka's shoulders, and hugged her close. "Upon our move to New York, I wanted out, a fresh slate. Morgana understood and set the wheels in motion. So it was quite a shock when Mrs. Federic showed up at my doorstep, unannounced. I knew of the woman but had never met her in person."

"I've heard she does that."

"She'd been watching me, assessing my worth as it related to her needs. She made me an offer I couldn't refuse. That's when I assumed Emily's identity."

Though it was too dark to see clearly, Myka lifted her head to look Helena directly in the eye. "What could she possibly have offered that was worth what you went through?"

"She'd free my trust fund."

"You said that was impossible!"

"She was remarkably convincing. All I could think of was Christina's future."

"I bet that pissed Morgana off."

"Indeed. She warned me against it, strongly. But Mrs. Frederic, as you're well aware, does not take 'no' for an answer lightly. Once I was in, there was no turning back. The longer I worked for her, the more demanding she became. I tried leave while I was with Giselle, but then MacPherson began his appeal. Mrs. Frederic threatened to blackmail me if I didn't do her bidding to keep him locked away."

"And then you got deported," Myka said, pushing away until she was no longer touching Helena. Why did the puzzle pieces need to be so hurtful? "Everything I did, everything Claudia did, Giselle did to help you…all of it for show. You wanted to get deported."

"It was the only way out."

"Morgana should have helped you."

"She couldn't risk blowing her cover. And she's risking everything by helping us now."

"Why is she helping us?" Helena's sharp tone kicked Myka's frustration up a notch. If the stakes were that high, why would Morgana risk all now? Blowing her cover meant a disastrous end to her career, all those years of hard work voided in an instant.

"To kill two birds with one stone. Contain Mrs. Frederic, while keeping MacPherson in jail. It was irresistible."

"Are you sure it wasn't you that was irresistible?"

"Myka..."

"Were you ever together again at some point?"

Helena breathed a heavy sigh, one laden with years untold baggage. "When she first approached me, yes, I admit, there were moments. That's all. Just like previously, there could never be more. Nor would I wish there to be. Could you imagine her with Christina?"

"No." Myka laughed once, more out of nerves than absurdity. "But your show in the police station was really convincing."

"Drawing upon ancient history, my love." Helena cupped Myka's cheek and leaned forward, pressing their lips together. "You are my present, my future, my everything." Her next kiss lingered, then deepened, a wordless apology for the hard truths Myka just endured.

"Stop giving me that look," Morgana groans.

"What look?"

"Like I ran over your puppy or something. Whatever it is, just ask."

Myka grimaces then looks over her shoulder at Christina. "You ok back there?"

"Fine," Christina replies.

"Why don't you try to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"Let us know if you need to make a pit stop. Because we will," Myka grumbles at Morgana.

"If we must," Morgana mumbles back.

"Let us know," Myka repeats to Christina.

"Ok." Christina returns to staring out the window.

"What's so special about this painting?" Myka asks, settling on that rather than dredging up Morgana and Helena's past. "Tell me everything. From the beginning."

Morgana glances at Christina. "I don't think—"

"She already knows. Way more than me."

"I do," Christina chimes in, her voice sounding much older than all of her ten years.

Morgana frowns, though the downturn of her lips is only slightly deeper than her usual resting face. "Do you know what it is?" Morgana asks Myka.

"I don't. Just that damn reference number. And I know the version Helena got caught with was a fake."

"If the police ask, you don't know that. Neither of you do." Morgana glances in the rearview mirror at Christina.

"I know," Christina says, her annoyance ringing clear. It's probably been drummed into her repeatedly.

"As you're well aware, one of MacPherson's specialties is in trading art looted by the Nazis," Morgana starts. "You witnessed this firsthand with the sale of the Amber Room. And as more families come forward, listing pieces missing from their ancestral collections, MacPherson grabs what he can and sells it for maximum profit, profit from anyone. But the highest bidders are often those that revel in keeping other's collections incomplete for entirely unethical reasons."

"So legally the painting should go back to its rightful owner. Mrs. Frederic knew that, but sold it to MacPherson instead?"

"Apparently, she's been dangling it in front of him for years. If he's caught with it, it could easily bring his operation to a halt permanently. And potentially expose a larger ring of others involved. Mrs. Frederic was waiting for the opportune time once she had a plan in place to bring him down."

"And we messed that up. So she's following through now because..."

"She's still under investigation. She'd be ruined if it's proved she was involved with the painting. She's close friends with the rightful owner's heirs and has been 'searching' for the painting for years."

“But she is involved. I was working for her!"

"She claims she barely knew you. That you were freelance, Vanessa's hire. She was doing Vanessa a favor by using her name to get you into the sale."

"She dragged Vanessa into this?" Myka frowns, deeply.

"Vanessa didn't mention it?"

"I haven't heard from her in months."

"Not surprising."

"Why haven't the police questioned me more?"

"They think you're being duped. None of your correspondence can be traced back to Mrs. Frederic or anyone else at the moment."

"But the calls, the emails, my commission!"

"None of it leads to Mrs. Frederic directly. Like your anonymous source of information."

"Even Claudia couldn't trace that. They can't know it was Helena."

"Mrs. Frederic may have leaked that already."

Myka's stomach rolls. She swallows back a bout of nausea. How can Helena dig herself out of this hole? "Do the police know the painting's fake?"

"As far as I know, no."

"If they find out, will that help her?"

"Not necessarily. They're aiming to root out Helena's source. They know she couldn't orchestrate this on her own."

"Great," Myka mumbles. This could go on forever. "Why the fake at all?"

“That was McPherson's stipulation. You getting caught would occupy the authorities while I passed off the real one. Remember, Helena wasn't meant be involved at all."

Myka mulls this over as Morgana pulls onto an entrance ramp, then merges onto a larger motorway.

"Why arrest Helena now? Why not just grab you and her, pass off the real painting and move on? And why drag me into it again?"

Morgana weaves effortlessly between tiny cars, navigating a three-lane roundabout. Driving in a circle on what on feels like the wrong side of the road causes Myka's nausea to rise again.

"Our working theory is Mrs. Frederic engineered this to implicate you as a coconspirator. That they must have found enough evidence to weigh her down. She needs a hard reset to exonerate herself."

"That's…" Myka's chest tightens, her breath huffing out in shallow waves. This is meant to be winding down, not spinning up again. She's not ready to be put back in the ring. "No one would believe Vanessa was behind a deal that big. Plus, she barely works with antiquities in Europe."

"Not Vanessa."

"Then who?"

"Who might you have had dealings with that had status and interests on par with Mrs. Frederic?"

"I don't know," Myka answers, flippantly. That was a lifetime ago, one that she worked hard to put behind her because she was told to.

"Does Milan ring a bell?"

Myka's eyes go wide. Theodora Stanton. "Oh. Oh, no.”

-TBC-

[dalamjisung]

a cliche for when you need one ❁ lee minho

genre: fluffiest fluff out there

word count: 3650

pairing: reader x lee minho

description: everyone needs a cliche in their life. Is that true?

Books were your life; and not to say that in a ‘quirky’ or ‘nerdy’ way, but in the most literal sense of all– books were your life. Your dad owned an independent book shop right under you guys’ apartment, and that was the only source of financial income you guys had. So yes. Books really were your life. It also didn’t help that you worked there every day after school and every afternoon on the weekends. The Literary Corner was never closed. 

To say you grew to love books was wrong; it felt more like it was engrained on your DNA. There was no way you could’ve come out not liking to read, and even if you did, you wouldn’t have much of a choice. Your dad didn’t have enough money to hire someone to work the store while he was gone, so he pretty much relied on you– not that you minded, of course. To work at the store meant that you had enough time to do your homework, and sit on the bay window, in between Fiction U-Z and Non-Fiction A-D. That was your favorite spot, especially in between the times of 4PM and 6PM, when the sun is low enough to shine that golden light it produces after a long, tiring day, warming to the heart, but carrying no actual heat at all. 

It was just one of those days; perfect weather, perfect feeling, perfect everything. You walk out through the gates of school feeling relieved– you couldn’t wait to sit on your window and read your brand new edition of if on a winter’s night a traveler. Italo Calvino was one of your favorite authors, and the sun that shone bright as you walked home would be the perfect company for a great read. You were excited to get home, chatting away with you best friend, Kim Seungmin. As weird as it sounds, you both met at the store, when he came in to buy the mandatory books for you advanced literature class, and that’s when you found out that he was a student in your school. Better yet, that you were in the same literature class.

“Did you see who’s getting transferred to our class?” Seungmin asks. “Professor Jeon said that he didn’t enroll to take them, but the principal thought that the other class was too easy for him…”

“I didn’t hear about any of this!” You gasp. “Who could it be? We didn’t really get new students this semester.”

“Rumor says it is one of the trouble boys,” He wiggles his brows and laughs. “Maybe one of them is secretly smart.”

“Pff,” You snort. “What a cliche.”

Laughing, you guys forget about the subject altogether. It was good that your school was starting to demand more from its students, but you really hoped it wasn’t the case Seungmin was talking about. You never had an encounter with one of those boys, and even though you hear plenty about them, you never cared enough to pay attention. The truth was that literature class was your favorite– one of the few things you were able to excel at school,– and you didn’t want someone who didn’t really care about it running it for you. 

“I have to go,” You point to the store. “But I’ll see you at school. And don’t forget that we have our scheduled movie night after my shift tomorrow!”

“How could I forget, Y/N?” He laughs and waves. “We have it every week.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You chuckle. “See you later!”

You take it all in as soon as you’re inside; the smell of books–your personal favorite– surrounded the place as if it owned it. Your dad ran past you, kissing your forehead and bidding you goodbye, as he was probably late for another date with his mysterious girlfriend. You smiled, shouting a ‘good luck!’ into the air as you watched him run with a bouquet of flowers. You walk behind the counter, already listing your daily tasks as you drop your bag on the floor. 

#1: Restock the best-sellers at the main door.

You walk to the table where a few books were missing and count them in your head, memorizing their names and authors, treating each one as a different person. You go to the back room and star collecting the necessary items. Enjoying while the store is empty and silent, you put some music on, allowing your earphones to drown the world outside into nothingness. 

#2: Put the disorganized books back into their place.

#3: Dust the shelves.

Humming, you were quick to get the job done. This was something that you did everyday, with the utmost care in the world. You liked getting home and doing your tasks; the repetitive actions turning into a natural de-stressor. 

#4: Count the cashier.

#5: Water the plants.

#6: Check stock.

And for your favorite part:

#7: Help Ms. Lee with her weekly search for a new book.

For the past five years Ms. Lee has come to the store in search of new books. They could be newly published classics or newly written contemporaries, she’d buy them all. She would come in and look at the book that you’d have in hand; I have a grandson, you see, she’d chuckle. A handsome boy, around your age, and he loves to read. What could you recommend, dear? 

For the past five years, you’ve been reserving two copies of the same books; one for you, and for Ms. Lee’s grandson. You started to adore the boy even without meeting him. As Ms. Lee would tell you what he said about the novels, you noticed you started having book debates with this boy through his grandmother, and you completely adored it, so you’ve started patiently waiting for her to enter the store, with the reserved book and a glass of water. 

As the door dings, you smile from where you’re crouching down behind the counter. You were working on a delivery package of three books and you were looking for boxes. 

“Good evening, Ms. Lee!” You say, smiling as you get up. Your smile was quick to shatter, though, noticing that the tall figure in front of you wasn’t the adorable old lady you were expecting. Well, it wasn’t a lady at all. “Oh?”

His mouth is covered with a black mask and he is wearing a beanie. His brows go up in surprise, probably from you popping up out of nowhere. You signal him to wait and walk to the front door, peeking outside in search of your customary client. Nothing. 

“Hm, excuse me?” You hear from the inside of the store. “Are you Y/N?”

You halt. How did this stranger know your name? You mind starts racing; your dad was occupied with his girlfriend and would take too long to come help if anything were to happen, same with Seungmin, and you were alone with this stranger who apparently knows who you are-

“I’m Ms. Lee’s grandson,” He chuckles. “She told me to look for you.”

Before registering what he said, your mind goes crazy. “Oh my, is she okay? Did anything happen?”

“She’s fine,” He says, and you notice he’s smiling because of his eyes; they were smiling too. “She’s just tired, so she sent me instead. I hope that’s okay?”

This is when it downs on you; this is the boy you’ve been admiring for the past five years. He was finally here. In person. Talking to you.

“Y-yes, of course!” You chuckle awkwardly. “… nice to meet you?”

“Yes,” He says pulling down his mask and he was indeed smiling. “Nice to meet you.”

“So,” You clear your throat. “What can I help you with?”

“Oh, yeah!” He digs inside his backpack and pulls out a sheet of paper. One that you were surprised to find out you knew too well. “I hope it’s not too much trouble, but I need those books.”

“Wait,” You frown. “You go to the school near the shopping mall? Just a few blocks away from here?”

“… yeah,” He frowns too. “How do you know?”

“I go there too,” You say, and your heart is beating rapidly. “I’m actually in this class.”

“Oh, how do you like it?” He asks leaning on the counter. His eyes are innocent and curious, just like a cat. “I’m being forced to switch, so I’m a little scared.”

“Don’t be,” You laugh ducking to pass under the counter and walk to the shelves where you knew those books laid. “It’s really fun. You clearly like reading, so I don’t think you’ll have any problem.”

“That’s good to hear.” He chuckles from behind you as he watched you struggle with a high shelf. “Let me help you.”

And you can just feel the warmth of his body as he stepped closer and grabbed the copy of harmless person to you by Choi. This collection of short stories was really dear to you, and you were happy to be able to discuss it in class. 

“I’ve read this before,” He mumbles. “It’s really good.”

“It really is,” You nod, and as you both fell in a rhythm, the comfortable silence accompanied. After a while, all books were pilled in the counter. “Finally done.”

“These are too many.” He groans, hiding his face in his hands. 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve read two thirds of these already,” You mumble, scanning all of the items. 

“How do you know?” His voice seems genuinely surprised.

“Because I have too,” You chuckle. You eyes travel to the copy of if on a winter’s night a traveler and you extend it to him. “Although I am pretty sure this one is new to you.”

“It is,” He checks the back. “I like some of his other works, though. The way he switches his style of writing even new book is amazing.”

“I know, right?” You squeal, a little to excited.

“How much for this one too?” He asks with a wide smile. So genuine, you think. 

“A present.” You say, blushing. “Consider it a present from me. See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely!” He grabs the bags. “Thank you Y/N!”

“No problem!”

And it’s only when he’s gone that you remember.

I didn’t even ask his name.

———————————

For the next day of school, you don’t wake up late. You wash your face for the first time forever and you take your time brushing your hair. It’d be stupid not to, now that you knew Ms. Lee’s grandson was in your class. 

“What are you doing?” You dad asks from the door, squinting his eyes. “Since when do you get all pretty to go to school?”

“I look the same, dad,” You laugh and somewhere in your mind you are sure you’ve read that conversation in a book. The character would later get ignored by her crush in school and bla bla bla. Just the thought of such cliche is funny to you, making you chuckle. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Every time you sat down to have breakfast, you thanked the lord for your dad’s girlfriend. She was an angel on Earth; always coming by to visit and check-up on you two, always making sure there was plenty of cooked meals in the house, since neither you or your dad were reliable enough to cook, always inviting you to come over and stay with them when your dad slept over and you were alone in the house. After your mom died, it took a while for you two to get back on your feet, but she helped. She was there first as a friend, and then as something more. You loved her for it. 

Your walk to school was more peaceful than usual; you had your earphones in, humming the same song you were before, back in the store when Ms. Lee’s grandson came in. You smile, unconscious of the fondness of the memory. A tap on your shoulder is enough to drag you out of the music induced trance you were.

“Hey,” You hear someone say– him say. “Going to school?”

“Hey!” You say excitedly, smiling wide. You put your earphone on your backpack, sure that you won’t need them now that you had company. “Yeah, why don’t you walk with me?”

“Sure,” He smiles. “My name is Minho, by the way. Lee Minho.”

Now that you knew this information, you chuckle. You’ve definitely heard of him before. Heartbreaker. Player. Lazy. All adjectives used to describe this one boy that now rambled on and on about the first three chapters of Italo Clavino’s book, and how the usage of the second person narrator was a fantastic choice to involve the reader into the plot. You nod, not actually listening to him, but knowing what he’s saying anyways, because you’d say the same things. When it came to books, you two always agreed.

“Are you even listening?” He laughs, poking you with his elbow. 

“Of course,” You blush a little. “Second person voice and all; great choice.”

“I was talking about coffee,” He says with wide eyes and a playful smile on his face. “Wow. You really weren’t listening!”

“What?” You panic. “I’m sorry! What about coffee?”

“Wanna grab some after school?” He says, straightening his back and clearing his throat. “I know a great place nearby the bookshop.”

“I wish I could,” You say and for the first time you cursed the moment in which you’d have to go straight to the store. “But I take over the store after school, everyday… my dad needs to do some things, so I try to help him out.”

“Oh I see,” His eyes lower to the ground and he kicks a pebble. “What if I brought the coffee to you? I can buy some and stay with you in the shop– I could even help out!”

“Really?” You say, impressed. Your mind travels to a parallel world, in which you and Minho work at the store together, laughing and talking about book all evening. And when the golden hour washes the place, you two sit at the bay window, and everything is just calm and beautiful and golden. “I’d love that, thank you.”

“Great!” He says excitedly. “It’s a date then.”

And the rest of the walk goes by peacefully quiet. Just you two and the early birds chirping. Today was bound to be good– you could feel it.

Classes came and went, lunch too, and it was time for your final class of the day– advanced literature. You were excited because of the new vibe that would wash over the room today, Minho being a new factor into the dynamics of the place. You were all there except him, but he makes it seconds before the teacher, and sits way in the back, ignoring all the swooning girls that waved at him. You chuckle, but it doesn’t escape you the fact that he ignored you too. 

During class, he doesn’t say a thing, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed. You thought he’d be different. What is wrong with me?, you think, rubbing your eyes. That’s such a cliche thing to think. You force your attention back to the teacher, and you remember absolutely nothing from the lesson except the moment that the bell rang. It made you jump from your seat and you heard someone snickering. You turn to Seungmin and see him holding his laugh in.

“Idiot,” You mumble, holding your laugh too. He get’s up but you hold him by the hand. “Oh, wait up really quick, I need to talk to someone.”

You turn around and see Minho looking at you. You smile and start walking to him.

“Minho,” You call, but he speed walks past you, his shoulder bumping into your and making you lose your balance for a second. Seungmin is quick enough to push you forward, stoping you from falling on your ass.

“What was that?” Seungmin asks as you two walk out the school. “Lee Minho. You know him?”

“Yeah,” You mumble. “We walked to school together and he was pretty nice. Maybe I said something to offend him?”

“I doubt it,” Your friend says and that was it about it. You two talked about anything and everything, but Lee Minho. You felt confused, and a little hurt; your fantasies shattering to the ground as you walked home. 

You barely noticed the bookshop showing up in your line of vision, and you definitely didn’t see the boy sitting down on the curb, with two cups of coffee in hand. 

“Y/N,” Seungmin says, stopping in his tracks. “Is that Lee Minho?”

Your head whips around and your eyes adjust to the image really quick. He wasn’t in his school uniform anymore; his hair was hidden under a beanie again and the glasses were back. He looked cold, breath coming out in small puffs, and jacket seeming to flimsy to handle the weather. 

“Yeah, that’s him…” You say, starting to walk to where he was. “I’ll see you later?”

“Call me right after this is done,” He says winking at you. “I wanna know everything.”

“Just… no.” You laugh as he whines. “Go home, Minnie. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You know what?” Seungmin says with a smile that you’ve known to cause trouble. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to movie night tonight… oh too bad, don’t rush him have fun bye!”

And before you could complain he runs away laughing like a maniac. Shaking you head your best friend’s antics, you go to where the root of your confusion was, trembling from the cold.

“Why are you outside?” You chuckle, feeling slightly awkward. “The place is open.” “I thought that if I was inside you wouldn’t be able to see me,” He sniffs. “And you would’ve thought I bailed on you. Which I didn’t.”

You were speechless at this point. “This makes no sense,” You say, brows raise. “I hope you know that.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” He laughs. “Let’s go inside and talk, yeah?”

Shaking your head, you walk in first, dropping your bag at the counter. 

“Give me five minutes,” You say, walking to the back where the stairs to your place were. “I just need to change real quick.”

Uniform discarded, and sweatshirt and jeans replacing them, you walk down, putting your hair up and making your daily mental list. 

“Okay,” You say, grabbing the coffee he got for you. “Thanks. Let’s talk after I finish the tasks? They take around thirty minutes…”

He shakes his head. “I want to help.” And that was it.

He checks the inventory while you reorganized the books. He dusted the shelves as you counted the cashier. You water the plants together, and it’s low-key adorable. Once you are done, twenty minutes later, the coffee is cold and the weather is unforgiving. There is no golden sun illuminating the store, and there is no peacefulness in the bay window. There is only rain and thunder, but Minho still insists in sitting and watching the water pour down from the skies. 

“I love rainy days,” He sighs. “They are perfect for reading.”

“I hate it,” You chuckle. “I don’t like thunders.”

“Are you scared?” He teases you, and open his arms wide. “You don’t have to be when I’m here. I can protect you.”

“Says the guy that almost pushed me to the ground today!” You gasp, laughing. You didn’t take it to heart, really; you were sure he had an explanation, but if he could tease, so could you. 

“What?” He shouts, looking actually surprised. “When?”

“After class, but it’s okay, I didn’t fall.”

“No, it’s not okay,” He says making a face. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry, it was an accident.” And you just let your head fall to the side in a sign of confusion. “But I called your name…”

“I had my music on,” He chuckles, clearly embarrassed. “As soon as the class finished I put them on. I was on a hurry to get home, change, and buy the coffee before you got home. I wanted to get here first.”

“Oh,” You say, face blushing and smile wide. “Well, this is definitely a surprise.”

“I’m also sorry about kind of ignoring you in class, I guess,” He mumbles looking to his coffee. “I just… I get a lot of shit in school. My friends and I, I mean, and I just didn’t want people to bother you too, if they saw you talking to me and all…”

“Oh my gosh, Minho,” You whine loudly, laughing right after. “That is such a cliche!”

He smiles. “I can be a cliche,” He says leaning forward, just a few centimeters from your face. “Whenever you need one.”

You squint your eyes, and quickly kiss his cheek. “I don’t know when I’ll need one,” You say watching him gasp with your bold move. “But sure.”

“I’m in love,” He says dramatically, and you squeal.

“SO CHEESY!” You shout, laughing and stomping your foot on where both of you sat. “Look, look! I have the chills, that was so bad!”

“There is so much more from where that came from,” He laughs, pulling you by the ankles, making you slide close to him. He kisses your forehead and you cannot stop laughing. “I read a lot, you know?”

“Oh my god,” You hide your face on his chest. “Stop. I need to breath.”

And that was how the afternoon went by. Minho would keep blurting out romance novels cliches and you’d laugh and run away from him, as he chased you with open arms, ready for when you decided to run to him. 

He was right, after all. Everyone needs a cliche once in a while… and he was yours. 

[ohayohimawari]

The Genin Gaffe

Remember the Kakashi look-alike, Kumade Toriichi? Maybe you don’t, but I do, and he hasn’t been far from my imagination:

I discovered this unknown Konoha Dork last February and wrote a drabble about him titled, The Copy Ninja.

I decided it was time to continue the Kumade and Kakashi Saga with a new piece of pure crack fanfiction.

I offer no excuse nor apology for this ridiculous drabble. I've spent most of my life surrounded by boys in my immediate and extended family, so, it was inevitable that fart humor would make its way into my fanfiction.

Gen, Rated: G

Hiruzen Sarutobi assigned a mission to Kumade Toriichi erroneously, and he enlists Minato's help to cover his mistake before there are long-lasting consequences to Kakashi Hatake's reputation.

Read on AO3

The Genin Gaffe

“You have a mission for me, Lord Third?” Minato Namikaze raised his head to regard the leader of the Hidden Leaf from where he knelt in the Hokage’s office.

“Yes,” Hiruzen Sarutobi exhaled the word absentmindedly within a cloud of pipe smoke without looking up from the scroll he was reading.

Minato maintained his reverent position and waited patiently as Lord Third finished scanning the message. Hiruzen signaled his completion of the letter with a thoughtful hum before he rolled the scroll up again and set it aside on his desk. The slight creases around his eyes became more pronounced when he issued a small, but warm smile to Konoha’s Yellow Flash.

“Minato,” he said the jōnin’s name softly and slowly. “Do you know Kakashi Hatake?”

“I’ve heard of him, certainly,” Minato said as he stood up. “He’s the son of the White Fang, correct? Other shinobi in the village have called him a prodigy, having graduated to genin after only one year at Konoha’s Ninja Academy.”

“Hmm,” Lord Third confirmed Minato’s information with a nod. “Kakashi has displayed exceptional skill and intelligence for one so young. However, I’ve been unable to find a permanent place for him on a team, even though he was quite popular among his classmates.” Hiruzen tapped the ashes out of his pipe into a glass dish before setting it down.

Minato paused for a moment to consider his response. “I have also heard that Hatake is difficult to work with,” he admitted. “Kakashi’s rigid adherence to the Shinobi Rules and determination to successfully complete missions regardless of the cost to his teammates has prevented others from wanting to join up with him.” Minato’s bright blue eyes met Hiruzen’s fixed gaze. “I assumed his behavior was a result of the circumstances surrounding Sakumo’s death. I can imagine the passing of his father has cast a long shadow onto Kakashi’s life.”

“Yes,” Lord Third emphatically agreed. “And it’s only one of the many problems his son is left to resolve on his own.”

“Oh?” Minato’s curiosity and furrowed brow displayed his genuine concern for Kakashi.

The younger man’s reaction was precisely what Hiruzen had hoped for, and he lowered his voice to emphasize that his next words were to be held in the strictest confidence. “As I said, Kakashi was popular among his classmates. Another student, Kumade Toriichi, seems to have modeled himself after Kakashi; though he hasn’t been successful at emulating him.” Lord Third ran a hand down his tired face.

“Kumade?” Minato cast a quizzical look to his Hokage.

“Toriichi,” Hiruzen repeated. “He struggled at school, and because Kakashi excelled in nearly every way, Kumade began to mimic him; in appearance especially.”

Lord Third pinched the front of his official headgear between two fingers and brought the hat down to hide his expression. “It has led me to assign a mission to Kumade erroneously. I’m afraid this has made things even more difficult for Kakashi.”

Minato’s blue eyes widened in shock that Konoha’s leader had made such a mistake, but he was quick to wipe the evidence of his surprise from his face. “The two must bear a striking resemblance, Lord Third.”

“Indeed,” Hiruzen lifted his hat a little, revealing the embarrassed flush that remained on his cheeks. “But that’s not the worst of it. It seems that Kumade has digestive issues.”

“Why would that matter?” Minato puzzled.

“Flatulence compromises even the best shinobi, Minato. Kumade is about as stealthy as Maito’s son. However, whereas Gai will learn the necessary skills to hide himself completely, Toriichi’s condition will plague him throughout his shinobi career. He may never rank higher than chūnin because of it unless perhaps, he can learn to harness it to his advantage.” Hiruzen removed his Hokage’s headpiece and ran one hand through his thinning hair.

Minato silently reassessed his dream to become Hokage, when introduced to a challenge he’d never considered. Outwardly he asked, “What does this have to do with Kakashi?”

“Kumade took advantage of the opportunity that my mistake granted him. He wants to be just like Kakashi, so he pretended to be Kakashi instead of correcting me. His hair looked a little different, but I thought Kakashi had cut it because of the hot summer it’s been.” Hiruzen shook his head. “That doesn’t excuse my mistake and doesn’t change what followed.”

Minato waited in expectant silence as Lord Third cleared his throat and continued. “It was a surveillance mission. They were supposed to shadow a group of traveling merchants that had roused suspicion during their visit to Konoha. From the little intel the team gathered, these merchants may very well have been spies from Iwa.”

Hiruzen sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I assigned Shikaku Nara to lead this team, and according to his report, they managed to follow the others for several hours undetected until Kumade literally blew their cover.”

Minato’s mouth fell open, and he attempted to recover as quickly as possible, asking the first serious question that came to mind. “Wh-what made Shikaku suggest they were Iwa nin?”

“The targets encased themselves within an air-tight mud dome, which is an impenetrable protective jutsu that Iwa nin are known to employ. It’s their toughest defense, so it must have been awful. Unfortunately, the mishap incapacitated Shikaku’s team as well, and by the time they recovered, the so-called merchants had escaped underground without a trace.” Hiruzen leaned forward, propping himself up by his elbows on his desk as a grim expression overtook his face.

“My mission then is to try to confirm the identity of the escaped targets?” Minato wasn’t distracted by the odd details of Shikaku’s failed mission and quickly cut to the seriousness of the situation.

“No, I have a different mission for you. One that will remain off the books, and which may test even your patience, Minato.”

Minato respected the secrecy of this upcoming mission and stood silent, waiting for the details of his assignment.

“Word of this episode has spread throughout the shinobi of this village, as one would expect of gossip,” Hiruzen began to explain the sensitive situation to the Yellow Flash. “As you know, Kakashi’s cold demeanor hasn’t endeared him to his comrades. I have received several scrolls from Konoha ninjas respectfully requesting never to be assigned to work with the, uh, Gassy Genin, as they now refer to him.” Lord Third lifted the scroll off of his desk and offered it to Minato.

Minato accepted the scroll and was astonished by what he read. He inhaled sharply, “Does Kakashi know about this?”

“Not yet. I sent him to Suna to deliver a message to the Kazekage. Partly to report the suspicions of Iwa and partly to get Kakashi out of Konoha for a bit. I hoped that this whole mess would be forgotten, but it’s only grown worse. I expect young Hatake to return tomorrow morning.” Hiruzen sighed and looked up at Minato again. “Kakashi has enough problems without the foolish mistake of an old man adding to them.”

“How can I help?” Minato returned the scroll to the Hokage’s desk.

“Team up with both Kakashi and Kumade tomorrow. Round up lost cats, help the elderly carry their groceries, or assist civilians with chores—whatever you can come up with to keep those two boys together and most importantly, seen together. It’ll be easier to explain the mistaken identity that way and hopefully clear the air.”

Minato couldn’t help himself from chuckling at Hiruzen’s choice of words, and Lord Third soon followed him. “Please do this for me Minato. You’ll be compensated out of my pocket for a B-rank mission, because this may be just as difficult. Kakashi detests Kumade, and after seeing how far Kumade will go to mimic Kakashi, I can’t say that I blame him.”

Minato offered a half smile and a nod as acceptance of his mission, before bowing then turning to exit the Hokage’s office.

“Oh, and Minato, if it’s this hot tomorrow, take the boys for ice cream. It might help us determine if Kumade is simply lactose intolerant, which is easy enough to remedy. And should he drop offense where he goes, that’ll be all the proof we need to show the others that they too have mistaken this copycat ninja for Kakashi.”

The End

[foxyotomelady]

It wasn’t supposed to be, Chapter VII (JuminxOC/Reader)

Author’s notes:

I really like this chapter ^^ It's quite a fluffy one :) But don't be fooled, from now on the story will keep getting angstier :>

I can't believe it's still such a slow burn. How I lasted so long I don't even know.

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII (You are here) | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X | Chapter XI | Chapter XII | Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV | Chapter XV | Chapter XVI |

Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

Zen: So you think we can invite them to the party? Riyu: yes, I think it's a great idea ~! ^^ Riyu: Thank you, Zen. Zen: always at your service! Zen: 

[Jaehee Kang has entered the chat room]

Jaehee Kang: Riyu, Zen, good morning. Zen: hello, Jaehee ^^ Riyu: yes, hello, how is work going? Jaehee Kang: Not bad. But I have a question for you, Riyu. Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han ordered me not to set any meetings for the evening because... Jaehee Kang: you are going for a walk? Zen: 

Riyu: um... yeah ^^' Riyu: Will that causes any problems for you, Jaehee? Jaehee Kang: thank you for asking, but no. It actually means less work for me, but... Jaehee Kang: I just don't remember when Mr. Han was on a walk lately. Riyu: So it's good that I want to change it? ^^ Jaehee Kang: I guess... Zen: 

Zen: Why did I feel this strange feeling suddenly? Zen: ugh ;;; This guy is acting strange... Riyu: it was my idea with this walk Riyu: and Jumin doesn't behave strangely ;; Zen: Let's just hope that nobody will see you together... Jaehee Kang: Zen is right. Not long ago Mr. Han dealt with rumors about you two. It's better if these rumors wouldn't come back... Riyu: I want to take him to a little-known park, I don't think there will be many people. Zen: you don't plan to murder him or something like that? lol Riyu: what? ^^' Zen: sorry, I think I spent to much time with Seven lately Riyu: Yeah, that's definitely what Seven would say ^^'   Jaehee Kang: well, I'm glad you two get along so much. Zen: sigh ;;; sorry, Jaehee, I can't agree. It somehow worries me. Riyu: don't be like that, Zen ;;; Riyu: you have these bad feelings just because you don't like him.

The walk was quite normal and nice. For sure Riyu would feel less strange if it wasn't for the two bodyguards who followed them. They kept some distance from them, but still...

They talked about everything and nothing, the time passed very nicely. Jumin even agreed to try the tastes of the ice creams that Riyu chose, and she has to admit that these were quite unusual flavors - such as lemonade or mojito. Riyu suppressed a laugh as they sat on the bench to eat. Jumin, in his perfect outfit, eating ice cream with a face as if he were surprised that something might taste so good... it was quite a unique sight.

"What a shame cats can't eat ice cream..." He said suddenly. "I think I just came up with the idea for a new project."

This time, Riyu chuckled, though suddenly she felt sorry for Jaehee. She would have to apologize to her later because she provoked the idea in his head.

The park was not visited by many people. Those who passed by gave Jumin strange looks - he didn't really fit into this environment - but he didn't care. At one point, as they passed by the trash can, Riyu heard a strange whimper. She stopped.

"Jumin? Do you hear that?"

"What?"

"I think it comes from the trash..." Riyu approached the object and looked inside.

"Wait, you can't just -"

By the time Jumin could finish his sentence, Riyu was already half diving in the trash can, "Oh God! It's moving!"

Riyu suddenly felt someone grab her waist and pulls her out, then put her on the ground. Of course, it was Jumin. However, she managed to catch a bag that was moving.

"What are you doing?" Jumin looked at her simultaneously angry and amazed.

Riyu did not answer, put the bag on the ground and untied it. Quiet whimpering intensified. Inside the bag... there were four puppies. Tiny puppies, they barely opened their eyes. Riyu felt her heart break.

"Jumin..." Her voice has already broken. Tears came to her eyes.

Jumin squatted in front of her. As usual with a stoic expression, "That's weird."

"Who... Who could do such a thing ?!" Riyu was already speaking through her tears, unable to stop them. "We must help them! Jumin, please, we must help them somehow!"

Riyu began to take off her coat.

"What are you doing?" Jumin asked her.

"We have to... We have to wrap them in something."

"Take my coat," Jumin calmly removed his coat and, without worrying about whether it gets dirty, put it on the ground next to the bag. Riyu gently put four puppies on it, still crying.

Jumin handed her a handkerchief, then straightened up and looked around, "There are no cameras here."

Riyu wrapped the puppies with the material tightly and began to wipe her tears with a handkerchief, "This is a poor neighborhood."

Jumin sighed, "It's a pity, the cameras would make the investigation easier."

Riyu sniffed, "Investigation?"

"I'm not going to leave it like this. I will do everything so that the person responsible for this will be punished."

Riyu swallowed hard. For some reason, her heart flooded with a pleasant warmth. She cried even more. Jumin crouched next to her again, "Riyu? Did I say something wrong?"

Riyu shook her head with a smile, "We should take them to the vet."

Jumin called the police and left one of the security guards in place to describe the situation to them. Then he and Riyu took the puppies to the limousine and drove straight to the vet. Jumin was furious with the person who had committed such a cruel act. But he wasn't mad at this person just because of the puppies, he was mad because this person made Riyu worry so much... She cried as if her heart was falling apart. What a gentle and tender person she was... Despite her fierce attitude, she had a soft heart. Fortunately, after the veterinarian examined the puppies, it turned out that they were still to be saved. They were cold, dirty and dehydrated, but the vet gave them a good chance of survival. The vet also agreed that he would be their temporary home. On the way back, when they were sitting in the limousine, Riyu still looked sad. "I will ask Assistant Kang to spread the adoption ads wherever possible. These puppies will quickly find a good home, I guarantee you." Riyu smiled gratefully at him, "Thank you... People can be so cruel." "These puppies were lucky you find them." "And you, Jumin. I couldn't do much alone, except handed them to the vet." "It's still a lot." Jumin scanned the girl's face. There were still tears on her cheeks. He didn't understand why he felt such a strong need to touch her now, but he reached out with both hands to her face and gently wiped the tears from her skin with his thumbs. "You’re such an extremely strong yet so kind person... I don't think I ever meet someone like you before." Riyu blinked, looked into his eyes. He still didn't take his hands from her face, cupped her cheeks tenderly. He leaned toward her, still not quite aware of what he was doing and why he was doing it. The girl's gaze leaped from his eyes to his lips. Their trembling breaths combined into one. The girl suddenly put both hands on his chest, "J-Jumin..." Her almost frightened voice snapped him out of this strange, bewildering trance. He slowly withdrew his head. He didn't know what to say. "I think..." Riyu was also chosing the words with difficulty. "We shouldn't... It's inappropriate... I..." Jumin took his hands off her face, leaned stiffly against the seat, adjusted his tie and cleared his throat, "I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I wanted to... Let's just forget that." "Yes..." Riyu said softly, clutching the fabric of her dress. "Let's forget that..." His heart was still pounding. God... did he just try to kiss her? A woman whom his father entrusted to him? How was he supposed to forget about it? And how was he supposed to ignore these confusing feelings?

Jumin Han: Assistant Kang. Jaehee Kang: Yes? I'm here. Jumin Han: Don't you want a dog by any chance? Jaehee Kang: ??? Riyu: When we were on a walk, we found puppies abandoned in the trash... Jaehee Kang: 

Jumin Han: Yes, that's true. We're looking for a home for them, and since you've always looked after Elizabeth well enough, I thought you might want to take care of the dog. Jaehee Kang: 

Jaehee Kang: I can't take a dog, Mr. Han. Who will you leave Elizabeth with if needed? Jumin Han: Now that Riyu is here, she can look after her. Jaehee Kang: Riyu will not stay in your apartment forever... Jumin Han: Right. I almost forgot about that. Riyu: Um... ^^ ' Jaehee Kang: .... ;;; Jumin Han: Maybe Yoosung? Or Zen? I wouldn't entrust any animal to Seven. Jumin Han: Anyway, Assistant Kang. Jumin Han: Tomorrow you will have to prepare adoption announcements and send them to several places. Jaehee Kang:

Riyu: Please, Jaehee... I know we give you additional work, but it's important to me. Jumin Han: You don't have to ask her, Riyu. It's her job. Riyu: No... I don't think it's her job, that's why we should apologize and thank her. Jaehee Kang: Thank you for saying that, Riyu. But Mr. Han is right. It's my job. Do not worry. Jumin Han: Her duties include everything I ask her to do. Jumin Han: And you are just an extremely nice person, as I already said today... Riyu: Um... Yes, thank you, Jumin. I'll go to sleep now, goodnight both of you! [Riyu has left the chat room] Riyu sighed and slipped under the cover on her bed. She still had this 'accident' in the car in her head, before her imagination's eyes... They both said they must forget about it. But it's easier said than done. Her heart was beating faster at the thought alone. When they returned to the apartment, they ate dinner in silence and awkwardness. Riyu escaped to her room as soon as she could. What was happening now in her head and heart disturbed her greatly. She had to talk to someone. And she decided to call the one who recently offered to help her if needed. Zen picked up the call almost immediately, "What? Why? This jerk did something weird?" "No, no, no, Zen, calm down!" Zen took a deep breath and then let it out, "God... Don't scare me like that! I asked you to call when something strange happened, so I thought... What's going on?" Riyu began to tightening a piece of bedding in her fingers, she felt embarrassed, "Actually... It's related to Jumin... Just don't freak out..." "I'm already freaking out..." "Zen, please... I don't have anyone else to talk to about it. Jaehee... Jumin is her boss, that would be too awkward. Seven would definitely turn everything into a joke and Yoosung... He's just too innocent, "Riyu sighed. "Too innocent? I'm freaking out more and more..." "I know you don't like Jumin... And I'm sorry to bother you." "Don't say that! You don't bother me!" Riyu took a deep breath, "I think I... I might start... falling for Jumin." Silence. "Z-Zen? Are you there?" "I am... I just... I think I heard you wrong. Can you say it again?" Riyu growled, felt her face flushed, "No, don’t make me repeat myself. It's embarrassing enough already, Zen." "Did you... Did you just say... You started to..." Zen couldn't say it, he just couldn't force it through his throat, "...for this jerk?" "Yes..." Riyu whispered softly and dipped her head in the cover. She was glad that she was talking to Zen over the phone and he didn't have to look at her now. "I... Er... I don't know what to say. I can't imagine how anyone could..." "Of course you can't... You two don't get along too much. But Jumin was so nice to me, we spent a lot of time together and... I don't even know when it started. And today... Today... Jumin... We almost... Jumin wanted to kiss me. " "WHAT? I knew this guy is weird! Does he force himself on you?! I kill-" "Zen, Zen, stop it! It's not like that at all! Calm down!" Zen breathed again, "I'm sorry... But you... His father..." "I know! That's why I wanted to talk to someone about it... We can't... I don't know, maybe it's... We were both emotional... Maybe that's why it happened. I mean... almost happened." "Emotional? Why?" "Ah, you probably haven't read the chat room yet. We found puppies abandoned in the trash..." Riyu talked to Zen for some time. Soon they changed the subject to something else, which for a moment managed to chase away her thoughts about Jumin, but then Zen returned to a similar topic again, "Riyu... If you don't want to, you don't have to tell me. I know that when we were having coffee you wanted us to leave this topic alone, but... Why Mr. Chairman?" Riyu was already so emotional and moved today that she let her emotions and instincts carry her again, "I will explain some things to you, Zen... But promise me that you will not reveal it to anyone. It must remain between us."

At the same time, Jumin was talking on the phone with V. In his bedroom, calmly sipping wine from a glass. "From what I've seen, Riyu gets along with everyone," V said, and only part of the information reached Jumin's mind. "Yes, yes." "It's quite surprising. But I'm glad I made the right choice." "Yes, you are right. Have you set a date for the party?" "Not yet, but I will inform you all soon. Jumin?" "Yes?" "I have the feeling that you called me for a specific reason, and now you’re barely saying anything." "Is that so?" "Yes. Are you going to say why you really called?" "Well, it's associated with Riyu." "Oh? What exactly do you mean?" Jumin took a long sip of wine, "I just feel weird." "You feel weird? And it has something to do with Riyu?" "Yes, exactly." "Jumin... You have to be more specific. Do you feel strange because she is your father's woman?" "Well, it certainly doesn't help. But that's not all." "So why?" "Riyu is surprisingly nice, tender, has a soft heart. She is pretty, cute..." "Um... Cute?" "Yes, that's exactly what I think. And it gives me no peace. In fact, for some time I can't stop thinking about her." V laughed awkwardly, which pulled Jumin out of his deep thoughts, "What? Did I say something funny?" "No... I just think... Maybe you're starting to feel something for her?" "What do you mean?" "Seriously, Jumin... You're hopeless when it comes to this matter. Of course I mean you fall in love with her." Jumin was speechless for a moment. He froze and his heart almost stopped its beating, "What?" "Well... I must admit, that - I didn't foresee," V laughed again. "It's impossible. I mean... Riyu has to marry my father. Not that I liked this idea, but... I couldn't do that to him." "You couldn't do what to him? Life would be too easy if we could control our hearts..." "I think I must... I must be going now. Goodbye, V." "Jumin, wait-" Jumin hung up - he didn't remember when was the last time he did this to his best friend. But he just couldn't keep talking with him any longer. His stomach clenched. He placed the glass of the wine at the table nearby, rest his elbows on his knees and hid his face in both his hands. God... He thought. Am I really... Falling in love with her? Why her? Why her? His heart couldn't make the worst choice…

[jeonggukingdom]

midsummer night’s dream (m)

▽ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

▽ Genre: fairy!AU, fantasy, fluff, angst, smut

▽ Summary:  Five years have passed since you first visited the Fae Court and ever since Jimin, the Fae Prince, has held your heart in his hands. You have loved him all those years, from afar, for Fae and humans are not allowed to be together. You are promised to another man but when your feelings appear to be reciprocated, everything changes. ↳ alternatively: breaking everyone’s hearts 

▽ Word Count: 16.358 words (if you have problems with long fics on your app, all my stories are cross-posted on AO3!)

▽ WARNINGS: graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, very unrealistic first time.

▽AN: I’d like to thank both @fireheart-namjoon  and @hobiwonder for helping me through this and encouraging me all the times I was either desperate or whining, lol. I love you ♥

It’s at the cusp of dusk, when the sun is still set in the sky but starting to tinge everything in hues of purple and orange, that your carriage halts its movements at the command of your coachman. The summer breeze infiltrates the cubicle through the small curtains and brushes on your skin almost as a welcoming act and, truthfully, it does feel like homecoming but, sadly, not quite.

This land of magic and impossible beings is not your home and anyone looking at you enough to notice, would immediately understand you do not belong there in the slightest. Yet, it is still welcoming and as you step out of your vehicle, you inhale deeply the air around you that always carries a soft scent of lavender and peaches.

Your eyes marvel at the scenery all around you, a sight that is now familiar but, at the same time, unusual in its uniqueness.

There are lands upon lands of colorful grass and plants you do not know the name of, the citadel around the castle brimming with life and beauty and magic.

The atmosphere vibrates all around you, saturated with the power of all the inhabitants of the land and your heart twists painfully at the mere thought of never being able to see any of this again.

Coming to the Yhesha Kingdom had been a duty for the first months and then it had become a pleasure and, ultimately, it had turned into something you’d waited with all your being, your body quivering in the night as the days thinned out on the calendar, nearing to the date that will allow you to come back. Now, the feeling building inside of you as you scan this impossible and beautiful land, is a bittersweet one.

There was a time when Inareth had felt like your only possible home, there was a time when leaving the safety and comforts of your chambers had been almost torture but now, everything feels different. Everything is different.

You turn your back to the wondrous city and your eyes settle on the magnificent castle, its private walls awaiting your arrival.

Every time your eyes land on the reflecting surface of the towers your breath gets caught in your lungs. It’s a feeling of amazement even familiarity can’t eclipse.

The high turrets fend the sky, tips as sharps as stalactites, in their glassy mauve and coral pink hues; big windows reflect the light in all directions from the peaks of the towers, looking like crystals in the sky. Someone would think a castle as such would be easy to access, to break and to conquer but the magic brimming from every single inch of it would prove any invader otherwise. The Yhesha Castle is as beautiful as it is impregnable.

Water of an impossible turquoise separates the castle from the rest of the land but the drawbridge is already set in its place, waiting for you to walk on the silvery path and be welcomed in the Fae Court.

You step on the transparent surface of the bridge, the light reflecting on it almost painful to your human eyes, and inhale deeply. The walk from the land to the Castle seems always interminable and you suspect part of the reasons to be your haste to reach the Court faster and also the fear of slipping on that seamless surface with your high heels and break your neck dying a stupid and unfortunate death.

This time, the walk to the opened door seems to last only a few seconds and you wonder if it’s because you are lost deep inside your thoughts or if it’s because you already know this is the last time you’ll ever walk this path going inside the Castle. You fear the walk back from the Fae Court will be torture and nothing in the scenery will be able to catch your eyes enough to distract you from the inevitable goodbye and the pain that comes with it.

You shake your head, your loose strands of hair slightly hitting your face as you do so, and proceed forward, determined not to think of your future for as long as you’re held inside the Castle walls.

Your eyes fix on the huge silver door at the end of your path and a smile stretches your mouth the moment you see it opening from within, welcoming you inside as if you were the rightful owner of this entire Land and, for a moment, you truly wish you were.

Your eyes train along the hall’s wall, the arches a pearly white studded with precious purple gems all over their surface. After years spent inside the Court you are familiar enough with each and every door and aisle in the Fae Castle but, still, your feet halt and you stand right in the middle of the room as the grand door closes behind your back.

The light of the twilight shines inside the hall from the glass rooftop and it tinges everything in a nice and atmospheric hue you could never witness back home — a place of endless winter and perpetual snow.

Your hands shake around your stomach and you interlace your fingers to hide the otherwise evident tremor, torturing your phalanges with intricate patterns to calm your nerves.

Loud steps announce you the imminent arrival of your hosts and you inhale deeply, closing your eyes the briefest of moments to regain control over your turmoil and prepare to present yourself at your absolute best — a fundamental requirement for a Princess, after all.

You cannot stop the rampant beating of your heart, though, as your entire being throbs in anticipation and you wet your cherry-tinted lips, allowing your gaze to divert from the room to scan your attire and make last minute adjustments if anything is found out of place.

The long dress you decided to wear is a pastel lilac, as close as you could get it to the Castle itself, and the satin fabric hugs your curves around your stomach, giving you that desired hourglass figure you are always praised for within this court. The corset is tight around your ribs, hugging your breasts in a way that would almost be indecent if you’d wear this same outfit in the Inarethian Court but that it is more than welcomed between the Faes.

Your pupils dilate with excitement as the sound gets louder in the corridor to your far left and you slightly turn your body to face the arch, eager to be faced again with the impossibly handsome features of the Prince.

A smile is plastered on your face and it takes all your effort to not make it falter once the owner of those loud steps comes into view. It is not an unpleasant welcoming, not in the slightest, but it is not who you’ve been dying to meet for the last couple of months and disappointment tugs hard at your heartstrings.

King Seung Won stands right before you, a welcoming smile on his sharp features and an aura of gold surrounding him, a small token of his grand magical power.

Your body springs into action and you bow before him as he steps closer, a warm hand briefly touching your shoulder as he greets your respectful manners with mirth.

“Did you have a nice ride, dear?” He asks, the corners of his mouth lifting as he intercepts your gaze and locks it on his own eyes.

The King moves elegantly around the hall, personally escorting you through the path that will unmistakably lead to your chambers inside the Fae Castle and you follow suit, your gaze unwavering from his figure. He is tall and lean, muscles can be seen through the soft fabric of his simple black attire and, for a brief moment, you can see the Prince in the way his father talks and glances at you or even in the way his eyes land on your figure.

His eyes are black as onyx but shine like opals, another otherworldly sign of the magic that pumps through his veins, and they remind you of a cat’s — feline and always attentive.

“I did, thank you, your Majesty,” your voice is soft as it leaves your mouth and it is met with another gentle smile.

The Fae King oozes power and his presence does induce compliance but, at the same time, he is a master at making people feel at ease — a quality inherited by the Prince as well.

He must read your continuous thoughts of the Prince inside your glinting irises because the next thing he chooses to say regards his absence from the welcoming party.

“My son was really sorry he couldn’t come welcoming you as he always does,” he tilts his head to the side and glances at you with what you believe to be a knowing  look, “But he had a hunting trip with the Redcap ambassador that could not be postponed.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the mention of the humanoid creatures known for their insatiable bloodlust and you refrain yourself from asking what the subject of the hunting was.

“I understand, your Majesty,” you reply, unable to conceal the pout forming on your lips as you look down at your beautiful dress, designed specifically for the Prince to witness.

The Fae Kingdom is populated with insuperable beauty and even the handmaidens of the Castle are true beauties concealed in servant clothes, therefore, all your efforts when coming to this impossible Land resides in being up to par with the standards of the Court. Simply, you want all of them to be impressed with the human Princess and, more importantly, you want to impress him, the center of your preposterous love for humans should never fall in love with Faes.

“He shall be making it right on time for the party, tomorrow night.”

His steps come to a halt and you are surprised to find yourself standing right in front of the door to your private chambers. Lost within your thoughts you had completely lost track of your path and now you stood, quite dumbfounded, right at your destination.

The mention of the party immediately lifts your mood, not only because it means you’ll finally be able to see the object of your inner desires but, also, because the Fae Court really does know how to entertain their guests and you cannot wait to witness yet another one of their grand shows.

Your smile must give out the excitement throbbing in your body because the King chuckles at your expression and takes a step forward, leveling his face to yours so you can look him right in the eyes.

“I have something special prepared for you this time, Princess,” a wicked smile appears on his lips and your heart stumbles in elation.

“Thank you for your kindness, your Majesty,” you slightly bow in gratitude for his attention and then lift your gaze to study his expression, “And for walking me to my chambers,” you add, looking at the golden frame on your right side.

He waves a hand as if it weren’t a big of a deal and then turns on his heels, hands resting behind his back and, without uttering a single word, he leaves you alone in the vast corridor, body still lunging forward in your small version of a curtsy.

There had been a time where you had been startled by the bending of the rules inside this Castle but now, you wouldn’t even question the actions of any of its inhabitants.

Where in the Inarethian Court it would be unthinkable for the King to not only come alone to greet his guests but also to personally escort them to their room, here it was nothing to be surprised of.

Where Servants in your Castle were just that and, very rarely, maybe friends, here in the Land of Fae, the only inkling that they were servants at all was in their occupations and attire. It had been odd to adapt at first and to forgo all you have been taught about what is proper and what is not, or how to entertain your company and speak to anyone respectfully. Simply, the society of the Fae has much more bendable rules and, after years of practice, you have come to love the free way of living the Faes have. Even being a Princess isn’t as much of a burden here as it is inside your very home. You are you, no matter your title, and the feeling of being accepted for your true nature and not because they simply have to endure your company even if they’d rather not, is the most wonderful feeling you have ever felt.

Heaving out a sigh, you turn towards the door, the fatigue of the long ride finally catching up to you now that the excitement has significantly died down for the current evening.

The door opens under your touch and you step inside, inhaling deep the perfume of freshly washed sheets and that underlined taste of oranges that always accompanies your room and every time, you wonder how they even found out that to be your favorite fruit.

The big canopy bed resides at the center of the room, covers a pleasant lavender and deep purple calling you in the comfort of their warmness; the light of the night sky shines through the oval window at the other side of the room and you find yourself walking across the chamber to look up at the glittery stars sprawled on the navy blue carpet.

In that moment, looking up outside your window, your thoughts wander off to the Prince once again, miles and miles of colorful land stretching between you and you wonder if, in this moment, he is looking at the sky too, thinking of you.

Your heart aches at the thought and neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no’ are a pleasant answer to your question for, ‘yes’ would mean shattering his heart and yours in return and ‘no’ would feel like stepping on the splintered potsherds of your feeble soul.

The light comes through the window in thick rays, engulfing the expanse of the room with white and pastel lilac hues given by the reflective surfaces of the external walls.

It is with immense effort that your eyes flutter open and it takes a few moments for them to adjust to the merciless light of the summer morning.

You lift your back up and stretch your muscles in a way that would get you scolded back home for not being womanly enough and a deep yawn shatters the silence of your private chambers.

Strong knocks are delivered to your door and a soft voice calls your name to stir you up from your slumber.

A small smile stretches on your lips and you jump out of your bed, rushing to open the door. Instantly, you are met with the lovable gaze of EunBi, a young and adorable Fae with long green hair and a sweet smile always plastered on her lips. She should be, by definition of the Inarethian Court, a servant girl but here, where rules are bent and nobody is there to scold you, she is more of a friend than anything else.

“Good morning, Princess!” Her enthusiastic voice rings in your ears and you lunge forward, hugging her small frame to your chest. EunBi is one of the very few friends you have scattered along the vastness of Ikos and she is, by far, the most trustworthy of the whole lot for she is Fae and one of the reasons you find their company so delectable is their incapability to lie.

“I missed you so much,” you shriek in her ear, indulging a little bit more in the tightness of your embrace.

“I missed you too, Princess.”

Her hands caress the small of your back and the hint of true affection in her gesture warms your heart and almost brings tears to your eyes.

The moment you let go of her she snaps back into her designated role and with attentive eyes, she scans your tangled hair and disheveled night attire.

“You look...” she pauses, her lips jutting out in a pout, “Well, terrible right now, but I can tell you have been well.”

Her remark makes you laugh and you drag her inside the room, eager to watch her hands do the magic and transform you into the better version of yourself.

For the first ten minutes all you do is talk and ask questions to your loyal friend, her gossips of the intricate relationships inside the Castle always delight you and you often find yourself laughing or screeching at the news of people falling in and out of love — not to mention those who bravely fight for their loved ones, whether it is in duel for the boys or by pulling hair for the girls. In this, the Fae race is as mundane as the humans are.

“You should get dress, Princess. Breakfast is going to be here any minute,” she says, sprinting back up from her relaxed sitting position on the soft floor and you hum, dragging yourself across the room to follow her quick movements.

It is a miracle how in the span of a few minutes EunBi manages to pull your frame inside a tight sapphire dress and do your hair in silky curls.

“Would you like me to change your hair color, Princess? Something to match the dress?” She looks at you with glinting eyes and for a moment you consider her proposition just to humor her but, ultimately, you decide against it and she adorably pouts in your direction.

She stays quiet for a moment, pondering her options and then a light shines through her eyes and you hold your breath, wondering what she has in store for you.

Looking in the mirror right across you, you watch the magic sprinkle out of her fingers in the form of azure glittery dust that falls between the loose curls of your hair, your face and your exposed cleavage making you shine like one of their kind. You stare at yourself in shock, wondering how it would be like to be born like this: with magic oozing out of you in shining gleams all over your skin.

“This is beautiful, EunBi,” you manage to whisper, unable to take your eyes off of yourself.

She chuckles at your side and hugs your shoulders from behind, resting her chin on her small hand.

“I can only spark up what’s already there, Princess.”

The sound of soft knocks on your door is what interrupts your little moment. With a bittersweet heart, you watch her cross the room, spring in her feet as she almost levitates above the ground, and you have to force down the lump forming in your throat at the idea of never seeing her again.

Breakfast and her duties are what save you from confronting EunBi about your impending future and having to deal with the heartbreak that would come with the realization sinking in further. Because, still, a part of you wishes for it all to be a ludicrous nightmare.

With your mind drifting off to these incessant thoughts, you spend the afternoon tuning in and out of the conversations led at the rounded table of the Council. It is one of your duties as the human ambassador to participate in the reunions between the Fae and the human councilors. Of course, your presence it is only a mere formality as it usually is the one of the Prince which, of course, is missing in this particular occasion.

Usually, him sitting across from you is what makes the hours tick by faster as you exchange looks and smile every now and then, entertaining a silent conversation from afar.

A pout forms on your mouth as your gaze darts toward the open window to your far right and you find yourself pondering what the Prince is doing right now and if he will be able to make it in time for tonight. Because if he can’t, you won’t be able to say goodbye and that would be the biggest regret of your entire life.

“Princess,” the mellow voice of Min Yoongi pulls you from your deep thoughts and your gaze refocuses on the face of the Inareth delegate — and best friend — sitting right next to you.

“The council is over,” he says, a small smirk on his rosy lips and you feel blood rush to your cheeks as you look around to see that almost everybody in the small room is already gone through the door.

“Preoccupied about something?” he asks once he is positive no stranger ears are going to eavesdrop your conversation.

You stay silent for a moment and then your throat swells with the urgency to cry or scream, or possibly both at the same time.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” you whisper in a choke, averting your gaze from his because you can already sense the pity in his demeanor and it is too much for your already breaking heart.

“I’m sorry, Princess.”

His hand caresses your cheek and you lift your gaze to meet his troubled one and you know, instantly, that he really means it.

“___,” he softly calls your name, dropping all formalities to regain his role as best friend, “I know how hard it is for you and I swear if I could, I’d change everything.”

You nod your head ‘yes’ and a few tears escape your control, falling down your warm face to reach your trembling lips.

“Now, now,” he says, gathering every last drop with his index finger, caressing your skin as he does so to soothe you further, “We wouldn’t want to make Prince Charming see us like this, would we?” He cocks his head to the side and you chuckle in response.

“Don’t call him that,” you scold him, sniffing loudly as you gain back the control over your emotions.

“Why? Isn’t it true?” he laughs as you elbow his side and you find yourself smiling in return.

“There,” he says, nodding his head to himself, “Now I recognize my beautiful Princess.”

You roll your eyes at his remark but you know it comes from a good place and, for the second time that day, you find yourself thinking how lucky you must be to have such amazing friends in your life.

Just as you think that, the frantic voice of Eunbi — in the form of your name —  echoes through the vast corridor.

“Princess!” she is breathless as she bursts inside the room and for a moment you think something bad must have happened but she points at your attire, gasping for air and you roll your eyes to the ceiling, “We have to get you ready for the party, it’s so late!”

Of course, fashion would be a top priority for Jung EunBi.

“I thought I was already dressed for the night?” you ask, still letting her drag you through the Castle and back to your chambers.

“Don’t be ridiculous, that was just child’s play,” she briefly turns toward you, a wicked smile on her lips, “I’m going to turn you in the most beautiful woman this land has ever seen.”

You laughed at that as she said it, rolling your eyes to the ceiling at her antics but, now that you are looking inside the mirror, all you can do is stare at yourself, mouth slightly agape in utter bewilderment because you can hardly believe the girl right in front of you is actually, well, you.

Long lashes adorn your eyes making them pop on your radiant face, coral pink tints your cheeks and lips and periwinkle dust gleams all over your features and exposed shoulders. Your crown of twisted twigs and thorns with silver roses shines atop your head, playing nicely with the lilac lights the Castle is endowed with and making you look as much of a Fae as EunBi herself.

The dress she has made specifically for you is breathtaking and it is the most beautiful gown you have ever had the privilege to wear. The skirt is big and made out of layers upon layers of organza, the color as blue as the deep sea and the night sky and it brings back memories of the previous night and the scenery out of your window. Small stones of silver are scattered along the top half of the skirt giving a fading out effect and they remind you of the shining stars in the sky, the ones you stared at wondering if your Prince was thinking of you.

The corset, tight around your body with a heart shape is entirely covered in silver glitters and stones and it hugs your breasts, cupping them closer to both secure them and make them look bigger.

"This is stunning, EunBi," you mutter, under your breath as you take one last look at yourself.

Her smile is full of contentment and she clasps her hands together, her eyes shining with adoration.

"Nobody will be able to focus on anything else but you tonight, Princess!" She squeals, taking your hands in hers to give them a little squeeze, "Even the Prince's eyes will be all yours, I'm sure of it."

The sole mention of the Prince is enough to make your heart go rampant in your chest and you smile widely in return before kissing her on the cheek.

"Thank you, my dear friend."

There is more in those words than what they look like but, of course, EunBi has no idea yet of your final departure approaching faster and faster as the hours tick by. That 'thank you' is for all the years spent together, for all the times she lifted up your mood and for all the beautiful dresses she made for you, for all the night she spent at your side talking about nothing and everything at the same time. Ultimately, for just being your friend.

Without adding a single word you turn your back on her and it almost feels like betraying her or stab her in the back and, with a heavy heart, you walk the long corridor to the ballroom.

By the time you arrive inside the Castle's most beautiful room, at least in your own personal opinion, you have calmed the beating of your heart and the swirling of your thoughts, adamant about living your last night at the Fae Court as if it's not the last one at all.

Columns of beige marble divide the center stage from the more private areas — designed for eating and mingling — and you walk between their shadows, catching glimpses of people you know with only one goal in mind: find the Prince. The dancefloor is illuminated by a big chandelier right at the center of the room, the light cast underneath it a pretty shade of lilac and it is right there, almost at the perfect center of the tiled floor, that you see him for the first time in months.

Jimin, the Fae Prince, is as beautiful as he always appears to be inside your dreams.

Hair of silver adorn his head, swiped back to reveal his forehead and the gentle gaze of his impossibly blue eyes. A small smile graces his plump rosy lips, looking so inviting even from afar, and his head is tilted to the side as he scans the room, probably — and your heart squeezes at the thought — looking for you.

As you look at him from afar you are reminded of the very first time your eyes laid on him. It was barely five years ago and you were both at the ripe age of fifteen — meaning, you were now old enough to attend Counsels held between your Kingdoms and to be appointed as ambassadors.

The Fae Land had been scary at first and the Prince had seemed unattainable, a creature far too different from your kind to befriend. Of course, you had been wrong.

The Prince had always been soft and gentle with you. He would show you simple magic tricks to charm you and then ask the most random questions about your kingdom and the human race. He, much like his father, knew how to weave people in, how to make everybody love him and, in no time, you had fallen for him hard.

Five years now from that day, you're still amazed and scared by how impossibly handsome he looks and your heart, right the second his gazes focuses on you, starts beating faster in your chest.

It feels like thousands of butterflies have awoken in your stomach, their wings fluttering incessantly inside of you as you watch him turn his body towards you and walk through the room to reach you.

The smile on his lips has widened and his eyes almost disappear as his full cheeks rise up with the corners of his mouth. You feel the blood rush to your face and you have to look down at your feet to calm your breath and not make a complete fool out of yourself.

"Princess," his mellow voice calls your name and you lift your chin up, your eyes focusing on his intense gaze.

His warm hand reaches for yours and he briefly kisses the back of your hand, eyes unwavering from your face.

"My Prince," you whisper back, your knees bending slightly in a little curtsy.

"You look absolutely breathtaking tonight," his voice seems at ease as he speaks those words but the roses tinting his cheeks suggest the timidity behind them.

"Thank you, Prince," you smile at him as you feel your body warm up as if it wants to combust into flames entirely on its own accord, "You look handsome as always," you cannot help the way your voice falters as you pronounce those words and your heart leaps in your chest as his smile widens further.

"You flatter me, Princess."

"Maybe," you concede, "Doesn't mean that I'm lying."

He hums, stepping to your side to give you his arm, ready to walk you around the great hall and you happily comply, linking your arm around his.

"My Father has prepared quite the show for you tonight, Princess."

"So I was told," you hum slightly nodding your head, "Something special to celebrate tonight?" You take a glance at your side, studying his features but he keeps looking straight ahead, expression calm and relaxed.

"Not really," he cocks his head to the side and smiles to himself, "Well, it was your twentieth birthday last month and we couldn't throw the party we would have wanted to back then, so..." his voice trails off and you stop in your tracks, turning your body towards him.

"Wait, this is in my honor?!" You can't help the way your voice raises at least two octaves and he looks at you with mirth in his eyes.

"When isn't one of our parties not in your honor, Princess?"

Of course, he is speaking the truth but your mouth hangs stupidly open thinking about the entire Fae Court here for you, to celebrate your birthday as if you're one of their kind.

"I..." you pause, shaking your head in bewilderment, "I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything," he says, stepping closer so he can put his hand on your shoulder, "Just enjoy your special night."

There are many things you'd like to say right at this moment. Even the hurtful truth. But a calling of your name stops the words from leaving your mouth and you turn around: Jeongguk and Taehyung are approaching you through the crowd of people. The two little Princes look as dazzling as their older brother tonight and you bow in respect as the enthusiastically compliment your outfit for the night.

The two younger brothers have grown a lot in the last couple of months and they have long surpassed the Crown Prince in height but, as beautiful as they can be, Jimin's beauty has no rivals and you can tell a lot of women, and men, share your exact thoughts by the way they drink up the Prince’s appearance whenever he is close enough to be discretely admired.

You walk around the hall for a few minutes, smiling and entertaining small conversations with the Fae you encounter on your path, the little Princes tagging along as puppies would and you find your mind drifting off to thoughts you had promised yourself to keep pushing away, at least for this one night.

Your grip around the Crown Prince’s arm unconsciously tightens and he halts his movements, tilting his head to the side to look at you.

“Something wrong, Princess?” He asks, voice soft with concern and you feel his intense gaze studying your features attentively, ready to capture every small movement, “You look a little pale,” he notices, turning completely towards you so he can face you, “We should probably sit down for a bit.”

“No, it’s ok! I’m ok,” you answer back, shaking your head as you force a smile upon your lips.

He stays silent for a moment, definitely not oblivious of the fact that humans, unlike Fae, can indeed lie and you just did exactly that. You are sure he has noticed but, even if he did, he decides not to address the matter further and simply nods, regaining his position at your side.

For a while all there is left between you two is utter silence, not even the Princes dare to say a single word, and your heart gets smaller and smaller with every passing second.

It is with immense relief that you welcome the sound of the trumpets, breaking the mild chattering of the room in an instant. It is the signal of the arrival of the King and Queen and the imminent start of the awaited show.

The King’s eyes train on the small crowd, his lips curved in a fond smile, until they find his sons’ and, quickly after, yours. He bows his head in your direction and you bend yours in return while keeping your eyes trained on his figure. His skin seems to glow tonight under the lilac lights and his golden and burgundy attire bring out not only his charismatic feline eyes but also the chiseled cheeks and the shimmering glitters glistening on his plump lips.

The Queen by his side is as beautiful as she has always been: eyes azure like the prettiest lake in the Land, hair curly and soft the color of melted chocolate, skin a beautiful shade of caramel twinkling with golden sparkles.

Her powers shine all around her in beautiful shades of raspberry and mauve and you find yourself holding your breath as she walks right past you, smiling in your direction as she joins her husband on their thrones.

She is absolutely blinding tonight and in her beauty, you recognize the one of the Prince. He is like a winter night and she is like an autumn day yet he has the nice shape of her eyes, the small nose and the plump lips and the same curve of the smile.

“Come, Princess, the show is about to commence,” Jimin’s voice comes in a swift whisper close to your ear and you turn towards him. His face is impossibly close to yours and your noses brush together as you tilt your head upwards to meet his gaze.

The contact is brief because he draws back instantly but a spark of electricity runs through your body nonetheless and you feel goosebumps appear all over your exposed skin.

For a feeble moment you think you caught a glimpse of that same electricity sparkling inside his eyes but if it were there it is now gone. Still, your heart leaps in your chest because of it.

You follow the Crown Prince through the hall and take your seat right next to him whilst the lights dim down, setting the atmosphere for the show. In those five years you spent within the Court you have witnessed magic at its finest whether through music or dancing or even silly magic tricks to entertain, mostly, the human guests.

This time, it is different. It’s the last show you’ll ever see and it is one made specifically for you and you have no idea what to expect.

The room is blanketed in utter silence and thick with the blackness of the night and you almost jump on your sit at the blazing lights appear in front of your eyes. They shine in shades of deep orange and sparkling gold, mimicking the flickering of a fire but exploding like fireworks.

You cannot see the Faes behind the magic but only their hands, tracing patterns in the space between you and the stage. The lights seem to be alive, like they have their own body and their own free will.

Your mouth falls agape as the words “Happy Birthday Princess”  flicker in front of your eyes and your bottom lip trembles, a sob menacing to come out of your mouth because it is beautiful and it is all for you.

The warm hand of the Prince takes hold of yours, resting on your lap, and you turn toward him, studying his expression. He is still looking forward, the lights dancing on his angelic features and you hold your breath, squeezing his hand lightly. The smile that stretches on his mouth next is not a feeble imagination because instead of disappearing, like the spark in his eyes, it stays fixed there and your heart leaps with profound happiness.

The music blasts behind your backs and you focus your gaze back on the stage before you just in time to see the words fade into the blackness. The room is suddenly engulfed by blazing light and you’re forced to close your eyes to sustain the sudden change and, when you open them, you find fire erupting from every corner of the big hall, the precise work of half-naked jugglers floating up to the ceiling with torches flying between their hands. They have bodies that resemble statues and skin of melted gold and you find yourself unable to look away as the flames dance above your head, their powers melting and mixing together like the colors of the rainbow. It is like nothing you have ever seen and it is a spectacle of such beauty you find tears brimming in your eyes.

“Do you like it, Princess?”

The hot breath of the Prince hits the skin of your neck, right at the juncture under your lobe, and goosebumps gather anew on your skin, your throat suddenly dry with the unexpected closeness of his presence. The Prince has always been affectionate in both his words and his gestures but there is something so different about tonight, about the way he looks at you and touches you. And it elates your heart as much as it scares it away because those feelings, yours and possibly his, have no future ahead.

“It’s beautiful,” you mutter, wetting your lips as you turn to face his intense gaze. His blue eyes have shifted and just like his father’s they are now like opals, shining brightly and shifting color depending on the light cast on them. It is a sight that locks you into place and from which you cannot look away.

He smiles at you, happiness seeping through every pore of his body, and you smile in return despite the feeling of your heart shattering inside your chest.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, turning towards the stage in front of you, “I was afraid you wouldn’t like the show I prepared for you,” he looks at you from the corner of his eyes and your brows knit together in confusion. You thought the King was behind every show you ever witnessed, not the Prince.

“I wanted it to be special and I wanted to do something for you,” he explains, his voice turning smaller as embarrassment tints his cheeks red, “I realized I never gave you a birthday present before.”

You look at him astonished, body turning towards him as you slightly shake your head.

“I don’t know what to say, my Prince,” you whisper, struggling to find the right words to convey your emotions, “I don’t even think I deserve any of this,” you gesture at the whole hall and the people there celebrating you, not to mention the entire show and he shakes his head too, his grip on your hand tightening while he does so.

“You deserve more than you imagine,” he whispers in return, voice so small you’re not sure you caught the words right.

“I...” your bottom lip quivers and you have to look away as you pronounce the next words, “I will never forget this.” Your eyes are shining with unshed tears and you turn towards him, your free hand about to rest on his warm cheek. It looks like he’s going to say something back when the music stops and everyone around you stand from their seats, cheering for the artists.

You quickly let go of the Prince’s hand and rise on your legs, following everybody else’s applause while smiling profusely at the Fae bowing for their crowd.

The music is loud in your ears as you spin and turn to the tempo, a laugh escaping your lips as you can barely catch your breath and the warm hands of the youngest Fae Prince, Jeongguk. Your mind is slightly inebriated with the aftermath of consuming Fae beer: a peculiar mixture of raspberry and mint flavor. The sweetness of the drinks is still on your tongue and you keep savoring it every time you lick your lips or talk to your partner for the next few moments.

The youngest Prince is smiling down at you, teeth in full display and you find yourself noticing for the first time how absolutely adorable he looks, even in his very matured body.

“Are you having fun, Princess?” He asks above the cacophony of music and people screaming at each other and you nod in return, exhilaration overcoming.

“I think I may be a little bit drunk!” You scream back, giggles escaping your mouth right after and he laughs at you, his grasp on your hips soft as he prepares to hand you to the next partner.

Spin and turn.

The strong hands of an elder Fae are holding you next, he has a sweet smile and eyes glinting with amusement.

“Do you have parties like this in the Human Kingdom?” He asks, mirth in his eyes because he probably already knows the answers.

“Oh my... I wish!”

Spin and turn.

The King holds you steadily in his arms and he looks down at you as if you were the daughter he never had and your heart warms up with affection.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your birthday party, my dear.” He says, his lips curved into a smile.

“Oh, I am, my King!” Your excitement makes your voice ring loud on the dance floor and he laughs at you more out of amusement than out of humor.

“Good, that’s all I wanted for you.”

He looks at you and a shadow seems to pass on his features and you almost stop on your tracks. A part of you wonders if the King already knows. If the secret is only for the Court and the Princes. If it is, a part of you feels relieved because that’s one less talk you have to face.

Spin and turn.

His touch is tender and his gaze is soft and you find yourself staring in the deep pools of Yoongi’s eyes. He greets you with a gummy smile stretched on his angelic features and it feels like a homecoming after a long day.

It is warm and easy, it’s familiar and sweet and it immediately soothes your bothered heart. In the span of the few moments you pass between your friend’s arm, all thoughts about the King are gone and laugh returns on your mouth.

Spin and turn.

Your cheeks feel hot to the touch and sweat has started gathering on your skin. You have a hard time catching your breath and you can barely look your partner in the eyes before you’re sent off to the next one in line.

Spin and turn.

Your lids are half-closed as you catch your breath but as soon as his fingers interlace with yours you know it’s him. The Prince is laughing when you open your eyes and if your heart could beat any faster right now, it would.

“I think I’ll pass out soon,” you say, laughing as he guides you through the steps now that your legs are starting to feel like jelly.

“You should take a break when the song finishes,” he says, chuckling at your sudden confession.

“I think I will. I feel a little bit tipsy... don’t you?”

“Fae do not get drunk,” he reminds you and you roll your eyes to the ceiling recalling the one time you got totally drunk and embarrassed yourself in front of everyone.

“Right,” you pout and he lets go of your hands, passing you to your other partner.

Spin and turn.

It feels like you have been dancing for years but you keep going and going until your feet are screaming for mercy and you’re sure this is a night you will never forget, a night you have lived to its fullest.

You walk to one of the balconies, welcoming the fresh breeze of the summer night and you inhale deeply, finally catching your breath.

The garden almost looks like a silver lake, the moonlight shining on the plants as if they were made of glass and, for a moment, you think they may actually be considering how the Castle itself looks.

“Do you want to be alone?”

His voice is mellow and you immediately turn to catch him staring at you, his shoulder resting on the porch and it makes you wonder how long has he been there, drinking up the sight of you.

“No, of course not,” you smile at him, chin tilting upwards to fix on the night sky, “I was just catching my breath.”

He hums in return and walks to stand right next to you, his gaze following yours as silence engulfs you.

You don’t know how much you stay like this, standing next to each other without the need for a single word but you feel him shift right next to you and you peel off your gaze from the scenery to glue it on him.

His hand is searching for yours and you let him hold it in his again, relishing in the warmness of his touch.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” You look at your hands intertwined and you’re about to say yes when he looks ahead, “The moonlight makes everything seem more magical, doesn’t it?”

You can pretend on the outside his words didn’t disappoint you but you cannot stop the pang in your heart as you realize that very different thoughts were swirling inside the Prince’s head. For a moment you feel juvenile and stupid because even if he were to reciprocate your feelings, like you suspected all night, he still wouldn’t be able to act upon them.

“Next time you come here to the Court it will be Fall,” he says out of the blue, eyes brimming with excitement as he turns towards you, “We planted Orange Woodbine all around the Castle, it will be so beautiful, I’m sure you’ll love it.”

You can picture it perfectly: the flower’s petals of a deep orange, the center a bright red and thousands upon thousands of those flowers creating a carpet of beautiful warm colors, melting together. A sight you’ll never see.

Your heart squeeze in your chest and you realize this is it. This is the moment you say it because you will never get a better chance. There is no better because no moment will be able to ease the pain that will come with the truth.

“Prince...” you whisper, voice caught in your throat as you try to find the right words to tell him, “This... this is my last time here.”

He looks at you, utterly confused by your sudden statement and you watch him turn his body towards you, his gaze unwavering as he studies you, trying to catch a sign of a bluff in your features.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m... My sister Tzuyu will take my place as the next ambassador. She turns fifteen in a month.”

“Why?” His other hand grasps your own and you can see the various emotions swirling inside his eyes: confusion, bewilderment, betrayal.

“A week from now I will be leaving my home to go to the Uwruvine Empire,” your voice becomes a soft whisper as each word escapes your mouth but you do say them, the words that leave a bitter taste behind, “I will marry the Elves’ King.”

It almost feels like a stone falling on your heart the instant you say that because, admitting it out loud makes them all the more true. There is no more room for pretending it won’t happen. No hope. And it is not fair for you but it is not fair to King Jaejoong either. He is, much like the Fae King, a merciful and gentle man. He is only ten years older than you with hair of honey and eyes like chocolate. You are lucky because you know you will be treated right and, eventually, you will live a happy life. But now, with love twisting your thoughts, it looks like a death sentence.

His face is paler now, under the moonlight, and his eyes are shining but not with the happiness you saw in them the entire night. It’s the exact opposite. It’s devastation.

“But why...” he wets his lips, his voice raw as if he is struggling to keep his emotions at bay, “Why won’t you be coming back even if you marry him?”

You understand the desperation in his voice, the need to find at least a shred of hope in all of this and you hate, you absolutely despise the fact that you have to shatter it over and over again until all that remains is pain and defeat.

“I’ll be the Queen of the Elves,” you mutter, your eyes focusing on your hands, still interlaced with his own.

“So what? You’ll be the Queen of the Humans too, one day!” His lips are trembling, you know that because you can hear it in his voice and the more he talks, the sicker you feel.

“But that day is not today, and certainly not in a week and when I will be the Queen of the Humans I’ll have children that will take the ambassador title.” ”Don’t say that,” he spats, suddenly leaving your hands to take a step back.

“What?”

You lift your gaze and focus it on the Prince and his pain hits you with the force of a hurricane. He’s grabbing his hair so tight you fear he may pluck some off, and he’s looking at anywhere but you, trying to make sense of all of this.

“Don’t say that you’ll marry another man and have kids with him,” he says, his voice broken as the first tears stream down his cheeks, “I thought that man was going to be me one day.” His voice is small as he says so and it wrenches your heart out because he has loved you all these years just like you loved him and it was impossible the whole time.

“I wanted it to be you, too” The first sob escapes your mouth and tears quickly follow until you’re a weeping mess, just like him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, almost outraged, as he grabs your hands in his again, searching for your eyes.

“Why didn’t you?”

You watch his mouth part but no sounds come out because, of course, Fae cannot lie. He didn’t say anything because he couldn’t, because Fae do not mingle with Humans, they never had and they never will.

You nod your head as he falls silent and you weep together as he caresses your cheeks, unable to look away from you now that he knows these, right here, are the last moments you’ll ever spend together.

“I can’t let you go,” he whimpers, shaking his head over and over again and you cry harder, hating yourself from doing this to him, hating your father for doing this to you, hating destiny for doing this to the both of you.

“My Prince,” he gathers all your tears with his thumbs and it breaks you even further until you think you’ll never be able to be whole again, “Please, don’t make it harder than it is. You have to let me go, now.” Your words are harsh and broken and you hate to pronounce them but if you stay a minute longer you’re sure nothing of you will be there to salvage in the morning. If ever.

You leave him there, alone and broken on the balcony, with tears falling on his cheeks and pain twisting his features and every step you take feels like a bone is snapping out of your body.

You are gasping, crying and shaking by the time you have reached your room and a scream shatters the silence of the empty chamber. It keeps coming out of you on and on until your throat is raw and your voice is gone and soft arms are embracing you, cradling you to calm you down.

“What’s wrong, Princess? What’s wrong?” It’s the soft voice of EunBi that calls your name and your lips start to quiver uncontrollably as you realize you have to relive it all. You have to say those awful words again. But you can’t. You can’t do that again, not tonight.

“You told him...” you tilt your head upwards and you find Yoongi standing there, watching you falling apart on the floor in the arms of a servant and he instantly knows. Of course he does.

There is no need for words on your part, all it takes is a look and he’s on his knees, hugging you close to his chest.

“EunBi,” you croak out, your hands in small fists behind your friend’s back.

“Yes, my Lady?”

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...” the sobs come rushing again, stealing your breath away, making you nauseous to the point you feel like you’re going to be sick.

“EunBi, I hate to be the one telling you this,” Yoongi intercedes for you, his grip around you tightening further, “But she won’t be able to...” his voice drifts off as he cradles you in his arms, trying to soothe you as if you are a baby having a fit.

“What is it, my Lord?” Eunbi asks, and you can sense the fear in her voice and you hate it, you hate it, you hate it.

“The Princess will be marrying the Elves’ King in a week,” he kisses your head at that, a reassuring gesture that stops the quivering of your body, “And she won’t be able to come back here in the future. This is a goodbye.”

You feel the tears of EunBi falling on her face without even looking at her, you feel her heart break and the way she takes in air like it’s the most difficult thing.

“P-princess...” Her arms are what comes next and you find yourself engulfed between four arms and yet, even though you love them, they are neither the pair you’d need the most right now.

You have no words of consolations for EunBi, you can’t even thank her for being a friend, for being a loyal servant, for everything. But a part of you hopes she knows. She has to know.

“How is the Prince?” she asks, after a while, and the sole mention of his name is enough for havoc to explode inside your heart.

It all comes back to you: the broken and raw whispers, the hot tears, the desperation twisting his features.

You scream again, the strangled sound coming out of you muffled by Yoongi’s chest and you fight against the sadness and the pain but it is unbearable, no matter how many sweet words they whisper in your ears.

The next thing you know is the pitch black and the sound of a familiar voice screaming your name.

Everything is wrapped in a haze of mist and confused memories, you feel like you’re stuck in cotton candy and can hardly hear the faint whispers of people around you or the warm hands that touch your forehead, your cheeks, your hands.

Your eyes flutter open from time to time and you can make out the worried expression on EunBi's face or, alternatively, Yoongi's but it is hard to wake up, to fight back the dizziness and speak up.

When you open your eyes again in what feels like million years after, you feel groggy and still slightly unfocused.

Eunbi and Yoongi are both at your side, watching you, and you force a smile on your lips as you take notice of your surroundings.

The first thing you notice is that you're inside your bed, under the covers, and the beautiful dress you wore to the ball is now gone, replaced by your soft nightgown.

"What happened?" you ask and your throat scratches painfully as you do so, a nice reminder that you screamed yourself not too long ago.

"You passed out," whispers Yoongi, caressing your forehead gently, his eyes dark with concern.

"I'm sorry I scared you," you say back, taking his hand into yours and he nods, giving you a soft smile in return.

"It's fine," he says, caressing your cheek, "As long as you're ok."

You nod your head ‘yes’ even though you are far from being ok and, you suspect, it will take quite some time for you to feel like you are again.

"You should rest, you're tired." He says, voice gentle but still laced with concern and you nod your head. You know he also means that you’ll have an early departure in the morning but he doesn't speak those words out loud because he knows, he'll break your heart all over again if he does.

His lips are warm and gentle as he places a chaste kiss on your forehead and you close your eyes, already feeling the grip of Morpheus holding you down until your mind is drifting into a dreamless sleep.

Your heart hammers in your chest, your breath is heavy and your body is shivering uncontrollably. For a moment you sit there, on your bed, trying to recall the nightmare you must have had for waking up with such a start but, when the sound of knuckles knocking of your door comes again, you realize it was that sound that forced you out of your slumber and not a bad dream.

You breathe in, looking around the room as if you’re registering your surroundings for the first time because, for a few seconds, you fear it may be already morning and you have to say your final goodbyes now. But your eyes tell a very different story: there is only darkness all around you which means, it is still the middle of the night.

With that knowledge, you force yourself to stand up from the bed and reach the door with quick steps to yank it open.

There, standing on your doorstep, is the Prince himself.

"Prince?"

His eyes retain nothing of the luminous light they usually have, they are almost black and sad, so sad, and bloodshot red as if he’s been crying for hours now. Your insides clench at the mere sight and you wish you had nice words to tell him right now, something to make it all better but you don't.

"I can't let you go," he whispers, his voice trembling as he steps forwards with trembling hands that are unsure whether to touch you or not.

The new proximity of his body makes you notice the stench of alcohol and you look at him confused. The Prince doesn’t disdain a drink or two but he never reeked of alcohol before and it looks like he has tried to drown his sorrow in the activity, even though the bliss of a drunk state is not conceded to the Fae race.

"Please, my Prince," you whisper, dragging him inside your room before anyone can see him in this desperate state and, as soon as the door is closed behind his back, his strong arms engulf you into a hug.

"I can't stand it, ____. I can't."

It is the first time he has ever called you by your given name and not your royal title. You had fantasized so many times about this moment, on how your name would sound coming from his mouth but, now that it is laced with anguish, you find yourself hating it with every fiber in your body.

"Jimin," you whimper in return, hugging him closer to your chest whilst hot tears warm up your shoulder. Feeling him like this, crying in your embrace, is too much for you to handle and soon, you're crying too. No, you're mourning.

He untangles from you and his hands are quickly on your cheeks, brushing the tears away as he shakes his head.

“Don’t cry, please, don’t cry.”

You sniff loudly and your bottom lip quivers but still, you push the tears back and do your best to keep them sealed inside your eyes. It feels like a losing battle but, if you can do something for him, no matter how small, you’ll do it. At least tonight.

“I know I can’t change anything, I know I can’t stop you from going away, from... leaving me,” his face twists at that, his voice breaking and you nod your head ‘yes’ because it’s the truth, there is nothing that can be done, “But I wanted to... I wanted to know what it would be like.”

You look up to him confused as he leans forward and, unexpectedly, his lips briefly touch yours, the kiss full of uncertainty and yet enough to spark up electricity within you.

Your arms move behind his neck to pull him closer and you fingers lose themselves in the tangles of his hair as you drag him down. The touch of his mouth is soft and intoxicating and he kisses you fervently, almost desperately, and you open your mouth for him, welcoming him the swift movement of his tongue and with it, the raspberry and mint flavor of the Fae beer laced with honey. It is inebriating.

Kissing a Fae feels completely different from kissing a human: it is magical and you can feel his power seeping through your pores, conquering you from within and intoxicating your mind to the point you start believing you could levitate now, if only you’d wish for it.

It is like being scattered, pulled from within and then recomposed, turned into something brand new and all of these feelings all at once leaves you utterly breathless.

When your eyes open you find him at you, his forehead pressed against yours and all the love he has concealed over the past five years is now brimming in those beautiful eyes, now shining as they always did before tonight and the sight warms up your broken heart.

“The thought of him kissing you like I did just now is unbearable,” he confesses in a breath, closing his eyes as he clenches his jawline.

“Jimin...” You caress his cheek with one of your hands and he exhales loudly, opening his eyes again.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t say this.” He shakes his head and brand new tears stain his cheeks, the light in his eyes gone as soon as it appeared.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I never wanted this to happen. I...” You gulp down heavily, your throat tight with grief and the desperate need to cry.

“Shh, it’s not your fault,” he quickly says, kissing your lips softly to gulp down your sob, “It’s nobody’s fault.”

You nod at that because it is the honest truth. There is nobody you can hate for it besides destiny and that, if possible, makes it all the more intolerable because there is no enemy to defeat, no war to win and therefore no hope for a brighter future.

“I didn’t come here for this,” he says, caressing your face, “I came here because I wanted to be with you, like a couple.”

“Jimin,” you look into his eyes, shaking your head but he silences you, his finger tracing your lips.

“Just for one night,” he says, “I want to be yours just for one night.”

You should say no to that, you should push him away because these memories right here will haunt you forever but how? How can you say no when you have the chance of knowing what it would be like? How can you say no when all you ever wanted is right in front of you? How can you say now when it’s Jimin? You simply can’t.

“Ok,” you whisper, bumping your nose against his before placing a soft kiss atop his lips and he smiles. For the first time since you told him about your marriage, he smiles. And that, right there, is all you could ask for right now.

He takes your hand in his and he drags you out of your room and it doesn’t even matter that somebody could see you, that you’re not even dressed properly, all it matters is you and him, together, living your dream even if only for a single night.

You walk with him for long minutes that feel like seconds and you wish you could stop time, you wish you could have him like this for all eternity and just be happy.

His eyes shine brightly every time they look at you and his cheeks get rosy every time you lean forward and kiss his lips. It is, really, a dream and even better. Your imagination couldn’t have topped the reality, not even if you tried.

“Do you remember that one time I told you I had a secret place?” He asks, mirth ringing in his voice as he turns towards you and you simply nod, recalling that sweet memory from four years ago when a younger and more playful Jimin teased you to no end with a place you later believed to be fictitious and a phantom of his own imagination.

“I thought it didn’t exist?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and he chuckles, shaking his head slightly.

“It does. I’m taking you there right now.”

You follow him as he increases his speed and you trail off behind him, chuckling at his antics. Jimin turned out to be a posed Prince, very mature and well-mannered but it is heart-warming to see him be his past self. Deep down, he’s still that kid that used to mock you, show you magic and tell you stories in the night, even the scary ones. No, especially the scary ones.

His secret place is within the Castle’s garden, you realize, and its guarded by tall climbing plants, their leaves an emerald green shining even the night.

It seems completely closed off, like a wall made out by nature itself but Jimin pushes the branches outward and you follow him past the intricate branches.

His secret place, this secret garden held inside the Castle’s walls, is absolutely stunning. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the blinding light of the moon, shining like a brand new kind of sun inside this small heaven.

There is a small waterfall right at the center of the little garden and it pools into a smaller version of the Castle’s lake, shining like melted silver.

The grass under your feet is soft and of an impossible green but it appears to be only a carpet for thousands upon thousands of bright pink flowers. They resemble roses but there is what appears to be lilac nectar coming out of them and they look almost made out of pure glass.

“These are Swamp Roses,” he says, following your gaze and picking one up in his fingers, “Have you ever tasted them?”

You shake your head no and he squeezes the flower in his hand, his fingers ghosting over your mouth as you promptly part your lips to let the juice fall on your tongue. The taste takes you by surprise and it is not what you were expecting at all. It is sweet as a strawberry but sour like a lemon and it’s warm like a hot chocolate but pleasant like a summer breeze.

“It tastes differently for everyone,” he says, licking the juice left on his fingers — an action that doesn’t fall unnoticed.

“What does it taste like for you?”

“It tastes like the sweetest chocolate during winter time, and like the fresh watermelon in the summer, sometimes it tastes like honey and butter but today it tasted just like you.”

You feel yourself blush and you have to divert your gaze, biting your bottom lip to suppress an embarrassed giggle.

“This place is beautiful,” you say, quickly changing the subject to something more comfortable as you lift your gaze up to the big tree next to the waterfall. Birds the color of fire sing in the silence, tweeting on the small branches and the scent of peach you always thought you could smell inside the Palace overwhelms your senses. It came from here, you realize, and it makes you look up at the Prince again.

“Nobody knows of this place?”

“Father knows, he showed this to me when I was a kid,” he says, a fond smile on his lips as he recalls sweet memories from the past, “And I came here every time I wanted to be alone or escape from my duties or just to... think, I suppose.”

“Why are you showing it to me now?” You question, thinking back of all the times you asked him to take you here before deciding it wasn’t real but only a way to tease you.

“Because...” his voice turns small and he takes your hands in his, caressing the back with his thumbs, “I want to share everything I ever owned with you.”

“Jimin,” you lift your chin upwards and he kisses you right away, already accustomed to the silent requests of your body and once again it is sweet but laced with passion and desperate need.

“I love the sound of my name on your lips,” he says, leaving your lips to look inside your eyes.

“Jimin,” you whisper again and he kisses you promptly, though too briefly. His lips are already swollen and red like cherries but they look even more delectable so you whisper his name again.

Jimin. He kisses you and it tastes like sugar on your tongue and you keep wanting more.

Jimin. His hands cup your face and drag it closer as he kisses you breathless, tongue encircling yours. Fireworks explode in your heart.

Jimin. Jimin. Jimin.

You are both panting when he leaves your mouth and you rest your head on his chest as he holds you closer. You relish in the steady pumps of his heartbeat and you close your eyes, feeling at peace for the first time in months.

Inside Jimin’s strong arms nothing can hurt you, nothing can even reach you, and everything is perfect and possible. For the second time, tonight, you wish you were born with the ability to stop time so you could be held like this now and forever.

“I’d give anything to stay like this for the rest of our lives.”

“____,” he whispers and you lift your head up to catch his gaze but his eyes are closed and his eyebrows are knitted and you can only imagine the hard time he must be having right now, containing his bitter thoughts because he doesn’t want to ruin this magical moment, taint it with the sadness of your departure.

“I want to make you mine,” he struggles to say those words but when he opens his beautiful eyes and you can see the desire in them all you can do is draw him closer and kiss him anew.

“I’ll be yours forever,” you whisper atop his lips and it’s like something ignites inside of him because next thing you know is that you’re lifted from the ground, your legs encircling his hips and he is kissing you like his whole life depends on it, like he’s a dying man and you’re his only chance at survival.

“Jimin,” you softly call his name and he lifts his gaze, hooded with desire, to meet yours and you nod your head ‘yes’ to express your equal yearning for closeness.

Without uttering a single word he puts you down on your feet before dragging you down to the ground right next to the waterfall.

The grass beneath your body is as soft as you imagined it to be and the flowers function as a cushion under your head and you can only imagine how you two look like now, getting undressed inside a heaven like this. Surely, it is the most romantic setting you could ever wish for. A perfect place for a perfect first time together. A moment you will never forget.

You watch him get out of his clothes slowly, gaze unwavering from you, and you hold your breath as the moon shines above his skin. Much like his mother, he glistens under the direct light and it’s a beautiful shade of light purple that draws you in to the point you can’t look away from him.

His skin appears to be soft and tender to the touch but firm where his muscles are. He is sculpted like a statue and you can hardly wait to put your fingers on him, to feel him pressed against your body and make him yours.

His lips come first, kissing you for the thousandth time that night but your hands are quick to reach for every inch of his body you can access, caressing every part of him that you can, almost as if you’re trying to burn your digits onto his skin for everyone else that will come after you to know. He was yours now, he was going to be yours forever.

“You are so beautiful, my love,” he says and you can’t stop your heart from jolting in your chest at the little nickname. You never knew words could sound so sweet.

“You are perfect,” you answer back, fingers sweeping his hair away from his forehead so you can drink up every detail of his features, impress them in your mind so you never forget how he looked like in this very moment.

He smiles and his eyes glint with happiness and you hold him closer for long minutes before his fingers start undressing you, unlacing the front of your nightgown with slow movements. His eyes watch your face and then the fast rise of your chest as he frees your breasts from their confinement.

Your breath hitches as his lips kiss the supple expanse of your chest, inch by inch as if he’s mapping it down with his mouth.

A soft sigh escapes your mouth at the first touch of his tongue and your eyes close as utter bliss expands within your stomach.

Jimin’s touch is soft yet electrifying, it’s everywhere you desire it to be but it makes you beg for more and more; it is absolutely intoxicating.

Your nightgown is gathered at your hips as he drags his mouth downward, kissing your ribs and then small of your abdomen. Little fireworks bloom on your skin, scorching it hot with desired and titillating it with their touch. You do not know if it is his magic on his fingertips of if it’s all because of the deep love within your heart but one thing you do know: you have never felt like this before.

You lift your hips as his hands drag down the soft fabric of your gown. The summer breeze hits your skin covering it with goosebumps while Jimin stares down at you and your new-found nudity.

His red and swollen lips are glistening with all the open kisses he planted on your stomach, his hair is ruffled from the way you kept tugging on the strands all night and his eyes are shining in the night and now, in this very moment, with the waterfall splashing water right next to him, he looks like a deity you’d gladly sacrifice your life for.

“I want to remember you just like this,” he whispers, his fingers tracing the outline of your breasts and abdomen and further down your hips, caressing every inch in his view.

You feel your skin become hotter under his intense gaze, timidity surfacing in your conscience yet, you do nothing to cover yourself, in fact, you arch your back allowing him to look at your body better because, egoistically, you do want him to remember you forever, you do want to be his first thought in the morning and the last one when he falls asleep for the rest of his life. You want all of these things because you know there is no way you will ever forget him or this very moment.

You lift your back from the grass and with hesitant fingers, you work the button of his pants and he lets you, breath hitching every time your hands brush against his abdomen.

His pants come off under your touch and you fix your gaze on him, staring into his eyes as he completely undresses for you.

Your fingers trail on his abdomen, drawing circles on his lower belly just to watch him tense under your touch and breath hard on your lips. The way he reacts to your touch is encouraging and intoxicating for you want to draw more out of him, you want to watch him crumble beneath your touch and be swept away in bliss and, even though you have never done this before, it makes you bolder.

Your fingers curl around his length and he hisses, body rigid as you drag your hand downwards to give him a nice pump and feel him harden against your touch.

“I’ve never done this before,” you confess, voice uncertain as you keep moving slowly between his legs and he smiles, kissing your lips briefly and you know it elates him to be the very first man for you. A part of you wished to be his first too.

“You’re doing well, my sweet love,” he assures you before reaching for your hand and take it in his, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want us to do. I didn’t bring you here for this,” he tilts his head to the side and kisses your fingertips, one at a time, “I just want to create beautiful memories with you.”

“I want to do this,” you say, shaking your head as soon as he stops talking, “I want you to be the one for me,” your voice is small as you say this but in the silence of the Garden it is enough for him to hear you.

His lips return to your fingers but this time they engulf them, his saliva trailing down your hand as he coats it nicely, making sure every inch is covered before guiding it down between his legs.

You find it’s easy to feel him like this in your hand, it’s easy to pick up a nice rhythm that has him rigid in your palm in no time and breathing hard in your ears and you find it makes you feel immensely powerful to be the one in control of his body and, furthermore, of his pleasure.

“Just like that, my love,” he whimpers in your ears and you eagerly start pumping him faster, reveling in all the little encouragements and responses that leave his mouth.

His breath is hot on your neck and he kisses the soft skin there, biting it down and then licking the pain away as you work him completely rigid in your hand.

A soft moan escapes his lips as you swipe your thumb over his head and he closes his eyes, head tilting backward with the first wave of pleasure you offer to him.

“You are so good, my love,” he says in a whisper as his eyes slightly open to watch you work him raw with the desire of loving you like this forever, not just for this one night.

“I want to taste your lips,” he whines and you immediately understand it is not your mouth he so desperately wants but rather what is between your legs and, with a few more pumps on his cock, you fall back on the ground and spread your legs wide for him to claim what his heart desires.

He is almost ravenous as he grabs your hips and crawls between your thighs, making your blood rush to your face as he inhales deeply the scent of your mound.

The first swept of his tongue takes you by surprise and you jolt on the soft ground, a shriek escaping your lips with the unexpected spark of electricity that ran through you at the mere touch.

His lips come second, kissing your skin the way he has kissed your mouth all night: soft yet passionate and laced with lust.

The sensation between your legs is foreign but it is infinitely pleasant and it makes you wonder how it would feel to have him inside of you, not only like this.

All thoughts are swept away by the second lick of his tongue, sliding between your folds with calculated languidness.

The first time his lips encircle your mound, sucking hard around it, you find yourself moaning his name and arching your back, eager for him to give you more of that heavenly feeling.

It is utter bliss that cottons all of your thoughts and takes over your body the moment he starts claiming you with his mouth, licking and sucking while one of his fingers intrudes between your slick lips.

Every little sound you emit makes him bolder in his movements and faster as he seeks your very first release of pleasure. You understand this the moment your abdomen starts contracting and you find it hard to breathe. It almost hurts but it makes you scream for more until you’re a quivering mess.

“I think I’m going to...” your words trail off as another one of his fingers moves past your lips and follows the first digit inside of you and the stretch it gives you is painfully good, so good you feel something snap inside of you and claim your body as its own.

Your legs tremble and your eyes close as a wave of pure pleasure hits you with the force of a wave, turning everything white.

Your ears are still ringing loudly when you come down from your high, his eyes stuck on your expression as he towers above you, a playful smile on his lips.

“You were so beautiful right now,” he says, caressing your cheek with his clean hand and you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling so stupidly at every single compliment he has to give, “I want to make you look just like that over and over again.”

His voice is husky with desire and you drag him down on top of your body, kissing him with equal desire to feel him as close as humanly possible.

Your heart beats fast in your chest with excitement and you can’t stop your fingers from trembling while you caress his head as he goes down your body, following the path he already traced with his lips before.

He aligns himself on top of you, kissing your mouth briefly before he is pushing past your swollen lips, penetrating you one inch at a time to give you time to adjust.

The stretch takes some time to happen and it is not like the feeling of his fingers: it’s bigger and it’s more intense and it stings a bit more every time he pushes himself further.

It is painful at first and tears prickle in your eyes but you nod your head ‘yes’ every single time he looks at you, checking your features for any sign of discomfort.

Only when he’s completely inside of you, you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and he completely stills his movements.

He kisses your forehead, your eyes, your nose and then your lips, over and over again until your breath is not so ragged anymore and the pain has been subdued with the underlining sensations of pleasure.

He drags his hips forward for the first time and he kisses your lips as he does so, coaxing you until your body relaxes and starts meeting his slow pace.

His hands are cradling your head and he keeps staring inside your eyes as he deepens his mellow pace, reaching inside of you until he can draw moans out of your mouth.

“Does it feel good, my love?” he asks, voice strained with the effort of keeping his pace and you kiss his lips anew, your fingers lost in his hair as you do so.

“Yes,” you whimper out as he pushes further inside of you and he keeps moving forward, angling himself in search of that little something that will make you melt.

The wave of fleeting pleasure hits you by surprise the moment he brushes against your sweet spot with the head of his cock and your breath hitches with a silent moan.

“Jimin,” you whimper out, fingers tightening their grip on the strands of hair on his nape and his eyes refocus on you, “Right there,” you whisper and he pushes forward again, hitting right on that spot and eliciting a deep moan from you.

His lips are quick to gulp it down and then they are on your neck, sucking hard on the skin as he keeps moving in and out of you, his hips meeting yours in a sensual pattern that has you breathless and wanting more, always more.

Your hips start rocking to his tempo, meeting his as you search for that feeling of bliss you experienced mere moments ago.

Your hands rest on the small of his ass, keeping him in place as he thrusts inside of you, whispering your name in your ears over and over again, like a mantra or a prayer.

There is sweat gathering in your hair and on his forehead but it is something else that hits your face and it is tears.

He is looking at you and he is crying with the intensity of his emotions.

“I love you, ____.”

There are words some people never expect to hear and those, coming from the mouth of the Fae Prince, are exactly the ones you would have never thought you’d hear, ever.

But he says them and there is so much emotion in them, so many feelings and despair laced around every single letter of the statement you can’t help but tear up as well.

“I love you, too, Jimin,” you kiss his trembling lips with your quivering ones because even if the desire is still there, even if you are together now, the sadness and the pain for your departure are still a constant thought inside your minds, “So, so much.”

His head falls in the crook of your neck and you hold him closer to your chest, still rocking your hips forward with the desire and the desperate need for release and to feel as close to him as you will ever be.

Low moans escape from his lips every time you clench around him and you fasten your pace until he is lifting his head to look you in the eyes, mouth agape with the pleasure that is finally taking over him.

You watch his features morph and relax as he comes undone, whimpering out your name, guiding you through your own release while riding his.

You feel the fireworks erupt within you and the snapping feeling returns, turning everything white and foggy. All that exists in that moment is bliss and his body flushed against yours, hugging you closer to his heart unwilling to ever let you go.

The room is engulfed in golden light and you struggle to open your eyes but it’s the feeling of a body, right next to yours, that compels you to do so.

The Prince is lying there, his head supported by his arm and he is watching you, a loving gaze on his features.

Memories from last night resurface in your mind and you smile at him, quickly greeting him with a tender kiss.

The walk back to the Castle is a bit foggy in your mind but you do remember the moment he laid you on your bed and you begged him to stay. You had fought sleep as long as you could, trying to be with him for as long as possible but, eventually, fatigue had gotten the best of you with his promise to not leave your side until the morning arrived.

“How did you sleep?” He asks, a soft smile on his lips still quite red from last night’s activities and you take in a breath, hugging his hips as you turn completely towards him.

“I slept perfectly,” you confess, tilting your chin up to plant pecks all over his face, “How about you?”

“I didn’t,” he sighs, pulling a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “I didn’t want to waste a single moment sleeping when I could keep looking at you.”

“Jimin...” you feel guilty for falling asleep, for letting those few hours that you had left pass away just like this when you could’ve kept on making memories together but he shushes you quickly, reading your thoughts as if you were a book.

You exchange tender kisses in the morning light and for a moment it all seems perfectly fine, like nothing is ever going to happen to you, like this is your life from now on.

And then, the knocks come.

Jimin is the first to cry and hug you closer to his chest, unwilling to let you go, and you follow suit, the pain wrenching in your heart.

There are promises hanging in the air, even though neither of you says a word, but they are loud and clear. I will always love you, I will never forget you, I’ll be yours forever.

For long moments there are only tears, sobs, and desperate kisses while behind your door people call your name, incessantly knocking at your door.

You don’t know how you do it, how you finally untangle from each other and say those dreadful words, those goodbyes you hoped never arrived and you don’t even know how you get dressed or walk down to the Hall where your Inarethian emissaries await for you for departure.

You don’t know any of this because by the time you are waling to your carriage all life has been drained out of you. There is no more you but only endless despair.

As you had imagined the evening of your arrival, the scenery doesn’t hold any appeal when you don’t have the heart to admire it, or the eyes to see it.

All you feel is your legs moving forward, your movements guided by the steady arms of Yoongi and then your seat inside the carriage.

You do not see him standing there, on the stares, crying in a corner as he watches you disappear from his life, you don’t even look back and oh, how cruel must you look when you don’t shed even a tear as you leave the whole Kingdom behind.

But as soon as Yoongi’s arms are around you, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, you are screaming and crying all over again, just like last night and there is nothing anyone can do to calm you down.

You know people in the Court that came to see you off can hear you, even in the small distance you already put between you and them. You know he can hear it too but you cannot stop. Not even when you feel sick to your stomach, not even when your voice is almost completely gone, not even when you feel like you have been drained of your tears and nothing will ever come out of your eyes ever again.

You don’t stop even when Yoongi starts crying along with you because you are his best friend and he doesn’t know how to help you, he doesn’t know how to pick up the pieces and put them together again. He doesn’t know because he can’t.

You are shattered, broken beyond recognition and there are simply no pieces left to pick up. No, you are nothing but fine dust being swept away by the summer breeze, hoping to reach him and touch his tender skin again.

Copyright © 2018 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved. 

[skullsandfairylights]

Writer’s Month 2019

Day 26: Trope Prompt: wedding

Life for Haru after her adventure in the Cat Kingdom, was very normal. After saying goodbye to her friends at the Bureau, Haru returned home to her normal life, with a few adjustments. Her adventure allowed her to mature, allowed her to accept her responsibilities, allowed her to grow up and take more control of her life. She continued to play lacrosse – the team was really well equipped after selling off some of the spare sticks – and she continued to spend her free time with friends.

           She got on with her life and let her adventure fade back into her memories.

           At least until one night, more than half a year later.

 She had just finished practice for the night and was on her way home when she began to get the feeling that she was being followed. She felt a gaze on her back as she wound through the streets. Glancing behind her, she saw nothing. Just the dark alleyways and empty streets illuminated by streetlights. Seeing this, she powered on, focusing on the path ahead while also listening closely for anything behind her.  

           The feeling followed her all the way back to her house and only vaguely subsided when she made it inside. Haru greeted her mother who was busy, working away at another quilt, and went to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea. She pulled her mother away from her work just long enough to have a cup of tea each and share the day’s events.

           It was only when Haru retired to her bedroom that she figured out what was causing the feeling. There, sitting on her pillow was an elegant, cream-coloured envelope with golden accents. A cool breeze blew in from the open window.

           Haru was written in calligraphy on the envelope. The young girl gently pulled the parchment free.

           “Dearest Haru,

           We hope that this finds you well. Since your visit to the Cat Kingdom, we are please to inform you that the King has announced his intention to relinquish the throne to Prince Lune in the coming months. However, we have decided to celebrate our union before this happens and as such, we would be honoured if you would accept our invitation to the wedding. It would mean the world to us both if you attended.

           After previous events, we would completely understand if you do not feel it wise to attend but please rest assured, that if you agree to come, then you will be treated as our most honoured guest. We shall do everything within our power to ensure your safety. You are also welcome to secure any precautions of your own. Anything which would allow you to feel safe enough to join in our celebrations.

           An attendant shall be on call to receive your decision, whenever you are ready.

           With all of our love,

           Prince Lune and Yuki”

           Haru pulled the invitation to her chest as she felt the tears in her eyes. The memories which had faded into the background all came bursting forward. She could feel the warm sunlight in the field from when she first arrived with Muta. She could feel the secure weight of the ball gown she was given to wear. She could smell the food from the feast. She could feel the strong reassurance as Baron had taken her hand – paw – and swept her round and round the ballroom. She felt the rushing of wind through her hair as she walked on a staircase of birds back to her regular life. She felt the acute pain in her chest that one feels when they lose a friend.

           She missed Yuki and Prince Lune. She wanted nothing more than to attend their wedding. But the idea of the King being there made her nervous, she didn’t quite trust him.

           But there was someone that she did trust. And she expected that, to get his help, all she had to do was ask.

           Tap tap!

           Haru startled and spun around to face her bedroom window. There, peering in through the glass, was a familiar feline face. A small paw came up and tapped again on the window. Haru rushed over and opened the latch, allowing the small cat to scurry inside.

           “Miss Haru, wonderful to see you again!”

           “And you, Natoru.” Haru greeted, bowing slightly. Then she paused, “You’re not going to ‘cat’-nap me again, are you?”

           “Oh, no, not at all, Miss Haru.” Natoru replied. “His Highness, Prince Lune sent me to receive your answer to their invitation.” The cat smiled, “So, what is your answer?”

           “Well, I would love to go!”

           “Great! I’ll go and let them know right away!” Natoru made to rush back out the window, but Haru was quick and just managed to grab at his tail.

           “Wait! Before you go!”

           “Yes?”

           Haru wrung her hands. “Do you think that Yuki and Prince Lune would mind if I brought someone with me?”

           Natoru blinked at her. “They said in their letter that you were welcome to do anything to make yourself comfortable. I don’t see why not.”

           “Then could you wait a day? I want to make sure that he can come before I accept.”

           Natoru nodded. “I shall come back again tomorrow evening, then. For now, I shall return to the kingdom and relay the news.” Then, in a flash, Natoru jumped out of the window and disappeared into the night.

 The next morning, after breakfast and tea with her mother, Haru ventured out into town. She headed down familiar streets, idly staring into shop windows as she passed. When she reached the café where she had first met Muta, she surveyed all the tables and seats but saw no sign of the fat cat. Letting her shoulders drop, she made her way inside the café and ordered herself a drink and a small fine piece then she settled herself down at a table outside.

           And she waited.

           And waited.

           She went through three more drinks before her friend finally showed up. The large white cat slowly plodded up along the street. He paused on the corner and scanned the tables before selecting one, sitting in the sun. Standing up on his hind legs, Muta reached up onto the seat and, with more than a little bit of huffing and puffing, pulled himself up. There, he kneaded and walked in a circle before flopping down on his stomach.

           Haru watched from her seat for a few minutes, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to her. When the coast was clear, she got up from her seat and moved over to sit at the table.

           “Hello Muta.” She greeted, trying to look like she wasn’t talking to a cat.

           Muta grunted and groaned before he opened one eye to look at his companion. When he realised who it was, he opened both eyes and lifted his head to look at her properly. “Haru. What are you doing here?”

           “I was hoping to visit the Bureau. Could you show me the way?” Muta grumbled loudly but pushed himself up and slid down from the seat.

           “Alright, fine. Come on.” And then he turned and started off down the street, leaving Haru to hurry after him.

           The route was familiar yet not as she stumbled over her own feet. The scenery blurred past as she focused on Muta and following his every step. With every step, she began to feel a pulsing in the air, feeling the static electric tingle of magic, it got stronger, the closer they got.

           And then Muta was waltzing through the archway and Haru stumbling through. Muta dropped down onto his bench, “You know the drill, I’ll be here when you want to go home.” Then he pulled out a newspaper and crossed one leg over the other. Haru nodded once before turning her gaze towards the Bureau.

           She kneeled down and peered in through the window. There was the Baron, frozen in the window, all elegant porcelain and bright painted eyes. She smiled and gently knocked on the door. “Baron?” She called.

           The lights in the square dimmed, a pure brighter light shining over the tops of the buildings encompassing the area. The lights pulsed and shone, creating a light show overhead. As it rose up, got bigger and brighter, suddenly, Muta grumbled, “Knock it off already, she’s already seen the light show!” and then everything stopped. And the door opened.

           Out stepped the cat figurine, now fully animated and alive. He looked around and settled his gaze on Haru. “Miss Haru! What a pleasure it is to see you again!”

           “And you, Baron. I’ve missed you.”

           Baron smiled warmly. “I have a feeling that this is not just a social call. You have a problem for the Bureau to solve?”

           “It’s not exactly a problem, but I do have a request.”

           “Well then, why don’t you come in and we can talk over a cup of tea?”

           So Haru – now small enough to enter – followed Baron into the Bureau and settled down onto one of the sofas as a pot of tea was put on. Toto and Muta soon followed them in and all four of them were soon engaged in a friendly catch-up, discussing what everyone had been up to during their time apart.

           Eventually, Haru’s request came to the front of the conversation and she explained how Prince Lune and Yuki had sent her an invitation and how she would only feel safe if she had company with her. After asking them to accompany her, they all agreed – though Muta took a bit more coercion. They arranged for Haru to visit the Bureau a few hours before the wedding was supposed to start, so that they could all be transported to the Cat Kingdom together.

-=[Additional Notes]=-

So this is more wedding invite rather than a wedding but I started this yesterday and since the muse has run away from me. One day I’ll come back and complete it. 

[blooferlady86]

The Park By Night

So I am very good at spooking myself and creeping myself out. I’ve never thought of myself as a creative writer, but there are a couple of things that really catch my imagination. I decided to do a thing and actually get something written down. Yes, I take constructive criticism. No, I don’t know how to make something readable on Tumblr, so I apologize if this is a mess. If I can figure out a way to make a story out of it, I’ll write another one on the strange sounds my bus radio makes when I’m driving it to school at 5:30 AM and there’s no one else on the road. 

It’s probably barely a story. It’s definitely not a terribly well-edited draft. It’s not even really beyond a rough draft. I know I have some tenses that disagree, but hey, it’s late, and I just finished a spooky walk through the park.

Anyways. Without further ado: A little creepypasta I should probably have just kept to myself:

The Park By Night

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

“Well, I am the pinnacle of human achievement, so I don’t blame you.”

Eleanor leans over the kitchen counter, green eyes staring deeply into mine, reaches gently for my face, and painfully flicks my ear. “Don’t be an ass when I’m trying to be supportive. You’ve done really well. This time last year you were walking with a cane.”

I snag her hand and give her knuckles a gentle kiss. “I only give you a hard time because I know you love it. It means a lot to me, you saying that. It really does. I wouldn’t have made it this far without your help.”

“I’m not the fitness buff. I’ve just kept you company on the couch.”

“That’s not true, and you know it. You helped. Every day. I’m just glad I can finally get back to work full time, and anyone willing to put up with me moping around the house for this long deserves a medal. Or at least a vacation.”

She laughs sharply and eyes the lunches we’ve prepared for the day: cups of noodles and whatever fruit was on sale this week to stave off a vitamin deficiency. “Maybe now that you’re full time again, we’ll be able to stop eating like undergrads and start saving up for a weekend at the lake.”

I give her hand one more kiss. “Sounds like a deal. See you this afternoon.”

It had been a long year. And Nell deserved way more than a weekend away at a lake. After a pallet of lumber crushed my leg right above my knee, I had only been able to go back to work about six months ago. Six months of painful hobbling about in the mornings, to go home after lunch and then do my physical therapy and exercise. The woman was a saint. Things were financially tight even before my accident; neither of us were exactly bringing in massive sums. Her retail job, my warehouse gig, they kept the pantry full and the rent paid. My time away from work drained the savings account, and even getting back to part time felt like a windfall. She didn’t have to tell me how stressful that time had been. I didn’t need to hear both sides of the phone calls with her mother to know my mother-in-law’s thoughts. “If he only had a college degree. He’d be working in an office, this would never have happened, and you’d be a homeowner, not renting some shack.”

She didn’t care. She was my therapist, counselor, and friend through the whole process. Unlike me, she was never one for regular exercise, but she walked me through the strength building routines assigned by my therapist, kept me well fed on the scant amount of money we had, and never made me feel ashamed of having to ask for help. The first day we were able to take a walk through the park together, I felt like a new man. Me, leaning heavily on my cane and her with one arm around my waist, swaying with my lopsided gait to keep our shoulders close, I could finally see the end of the tunnel. 

It became my regular exercise spot, and eventually Nell was able to confidently let me limp around the 2 mile loop fenced in by chain link that we had discovered in our neighborhood. She generally sat and read while I completed my lap. Eventually, when I was cleared for driving, she was able to get back to her hobbies at home. She had seen me walking with enough confidence that she was sure I wouldn’t fall and be stuck on the hot pavement of the walking trail without her.

The park was simple, but well maintained. A two mile paved path encircled a lightly forested area along with some kickball fields. There was a green belt with a creek running behind the park. I’d made up my mind to tackle that hike when my limp had been fully conquered. With work being full-time again, that would have to wait for the weekend. 

I threw some pasta in a pot when I arrived home that afternoon. Meatless spaghetti. My specialty. It would be ready by the time Nell finished her shift. I did my stretches, some laundry, and some dishes, the only chores I could do without painfully regretting it the next day. We exchanged stories about asshole customers and asshole managers over our meager meal of bargain pasta. 

“Are you going for a walk this afternoon? I was thinking of bringing a book.”

“Not this afternoon. A: It’s boiling outside, and B: I need a couple hours of vegetating before my leg is ready to move again. You’d think it would remember how to work all day.”

“‘Don’t forget you’re human’” she quips in a sing-song tone.

“I’m going to forget you’re human if you quote my therapist’s posters again.”

“Tell you what, if you go this evening, I’ll have an ice pack and a beer ready for when you get back.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

The park is never busy even on weekends. It’s tucked away amongst a bunch of single family homes, well off the main street. During the day, it’s a pleasant breath of oxygen in a crowded suburbia. When I pull the car up, an hour after the sun has gone down, I hardly recognize it. I’ve never been here at night; I’m impressed by how well lit the walking paths are in the little neighborhood greenspace. 

Earphones in, music on, I begin my 2 mile walk. I’m making good time for someone with two rods and four pins in his femur. 60 minutes is my record, and I was on the couch for two days after that, with Nell providing me ice packs and disapproving looks until I promised to go easier on myself. 

At the quarter-mile sign, I stop to stretch. My calves are in a constant rebellion these days. I hear a tinny rattling, and quickly pop one earbud out to see if I’ve got a short in the wiring. The rattling, though a gentle noise, gets louder when I unplug my ear, not softer. I look quickly back towards the start of the path, but the bright lights illuminating the path make it hard to see beyond the pavement. I realize what I’m hearing is the chain link fencing, as if it’s been lightly jostled. A cat, I tell myself, or a possum squeezing under the fence. They’re nocturnal, right? And I bet they’d love to get to investigate these trash cans. The gentle rattle dies away, I finish my count to 30 on my bad leg and set off again.

You really can’t see anything out here at night, I think to myself. The familiar path is illuminated with frequent overhead lamps, which I am quite thankful for. A stumble on a dark walkway would leave me hobbling home with my tail between my legs to explain to Nell that I’ve overdone it again. Cue another “inspirational quote” from my physical therapist. Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I squint across the park at another late-night walker with their dog, finishing the last of their two miles. The lit path is like a band of light snaking through the dark trees, only inky blackness past the light poles. My attention is caught by a figure standing across the park, silhouetted between me and the path the dog-walker just left. I blink, and the two dark legs of the figure come into focus and become the sign post for the one and a half mile mark, the torso a water fountain right behind it. I shake my head, continue walking. Half a mile down.

At the three-quarter mile, I have to stop and stretch again. Maybe it was a mistake to come out for a full walk during my first week back at the warehouse. Tomorrow will be a rest day. As I’m bending down to grab my toe, I get another glimpse of something on the edge of my vision. I snap back upright, wincing as I do so. I squint into the dark space behind me. The same figure, standing in a dark pool of shadow by the entrance to the park. This time I can’t seem to focus and see a sign instead of a pair of legs. The torso and head remain a torso and head. A chill runs down my neck as some part of my subconscious chooses this moment to decide that the figure is most definitely looking in my direction. “All right,” Nell’s voice rings out in my head,  “you’re nearly halfway done and you’re not the only one in the park tonight. No problem. Get today’s walk over with, and next time they pass a street light, you’ll see it’s just another late visitor.” 

Begrudgingly, I turn my back on the shadow and continue my labored hike. When I’ve gotten one mile finished, the path make a U turn and begins to weave back through the trees towards the parking lot. I take advantage of the wide view of the park to look for my fellow late night ambler who spooked me. 

No one.

As I walk, I scan the park starting at the gate, following the path. If they’re walking, I’ll see them. The walking path is the only damn thing you can see in the park, after all. Another metallic rattle has me ripping out my earbuds and I see the chain link fence around the three-quarter mark vibrating in a wind that doesn’t seem to touch the trees. There. Again. The dark outline of a figure, not walking on the path, but standing just outside the flood of light cast by the lamp. Once again, something deep and primal tells me that its unseen eyes are on me. 

It’s enough. I don’t care if this is some teenager dicking around with the cripple clomping his way through his required 5,000 steps, I’m ready to be home, watching bad TV with my wife. I pick up the pace, striding as far as I can with each step to just make it back to the safety of my car. I’m glad I didn’t put the earbuds back in. It would have made it harder to hear the chain link start its  clatter again. As I round the corner to see the one and a quarter marker, I recognize the sound from when I was a kid and would run my hand along a fence in my yard. It’s getting louder.

I don’t turn my head. I very carefully avoid thinking about the quickly approaching clinking sound. I am studiously facing forward as I imagine the figure three lamps away, two lamps away, one lamp away, running long shadowy fingers across the metal fence. I huff and puff my way up to the next distance marker. The parking lot is ahead. I’m going home. 

Filled with the confidence that I’ve nearly crossed the finish line, I take a breath and risk a glimpse over my right shoulder. Nothing. The fence is still, the black shapes of the trees a comforting and familiar sight I recall from my walks in the sun. I take two steps, still looking behind me, when I feel a gentle, warm waft of air in my left ear, followed by a wheezing, rasping inhale of breath.

I’m running. I haven’t run in a year, but I am running now. As the gate comes into view, I feel something pop in my knee. If I’d had time to stumble and stagger, I would have, but the gasping, shaking thing is behind me, and I now I can smell an odor of decaying flesh, of corruption and rot. I push down the burning pain in my leg, and the nausea that threatens to make me double over. I train my eyes on my car and start counting the yards to get there. As I lumber gamely through the gate, I feel something catch at my shirt, and hear the wheezing breath growing louder, just behind me.

I spill into the brightly lit parking lot and throw myself into the car, pummeling the locks as I slam the door. Gripping the steering wheel tightly and closing my eyes tighter still, I listen for the death rattle breath that had followed me out of the park. Nothing. I hear a gentle clink of chain link fencing, and my eyes dart for the source. Still nothing. I turn on every light in my car and check the back seat just for my own sanity. Putting the car into gear and pulling out to the road as quickly as I can, I catch one more glimpse of a silhouette in the mirror. Snapping my head up, I once again see a signpost for the park materialize in place of the dark form I thought I’d seen. 

By the time I get home, I’ve almost convinced myself that the entire thing was my imagination. It’s been a busy week. I’m over-tired from being back at work. I went somewhere I wasn’t familiar with, heard some spooky noises, and panicked. I give Nell a hug, and go to take a long hot shower. I’d nearly convinced myself. I pulled my shirt over my head and almost missed the hand print on the back. A hand print with four long, thin, muddy fingers. 

The shirt goes straight into the garbage bin.

[vividlybnha]

Waiting Rooms, Chpt. 2

1

Warning: Night terrors

Word Count: 2608

Summary: Kirishima is so worried, God, is he worried. He just needs to know that he didn’t do wrong by Bakugou. Bakugou just wants to sleep. 

He can’t.

Chapter Two: Pity

Kirishima never really knew what to do after a confrontation. There was weird in-between what would happen when you say those words and the end with the forgiving hugs or indescribable anger. Kirishima absolutely hated that in-between, it was just a matter of right words and actions to get that desired outcome. But that was the thing he hated. You don’t always get the desired outcome.

When Kiri had confronted Bakugou with the solution of therapy he blew up, figuratively and literally. There were still scorch marks covering parts of the couch from their little ‘talk’. He never meant to hurt Bakugou, he wanted to help him, make sure his friend was fine. So why? Why did he feel so wrong about it? Like telling Mr. Aizawa was a villainous deed. Maybe he was in the wrong, he didn’t know what happened to Bakugou when he was kidnapped, he didn’t ask and Bakugou never told. There was little hints now and then, the anger, the lack of confidence. It was similar to a game of cat and mouse but it was clear that Bakugou did not want to be caught. So why? Why the fuck did Kirishima decide to continue chasing.

Kirishima felt the shame pool in his stomach, curling around his intestines and sending static feelings through him. Had he really messed up that badly? Mr. Aizawa seemed on board with the idea, obviously but he couldn’t get Bakugou’s hurt face out of his mind. If it was right then why did he look so betrayed?

He placed the now new cushion onto the couch, he noticed the slight difference in color, a tint lighter than the others. There were still small scorch marks on the other pillows, not enough to have the whole thing replaced but enough that if you looked you had noticed.

Kirishima plopped down on the new seat and starred perpetually at the ceiling. When was he going to come back? Bakugou had left for the therapy around 6, not bothering to say anything to the redhead on when he would be back. Why would he? Kirishima let out a groan. He glanced at his watch again. 7:49. He groaned, how many years would pass until Bakugou came back? There was no hope for him. He looked again as if to confirm it. Maybe he should go to sleep. It was likely that Bakugou didn’t want to see him. Kiri thought about if he was in Bakugou’s place. Would he even want to see himself?

Kiri got up, frown pulling his face down, he could feel the weight. No. He was going to get rid of that in-between, he didn’t want this feeling to reside in him forever. Moving to the kitchen he opened the fridge and grabbed an apple. Taking a bite he sat back on the cushion and pulled out his phone. He pulled up the messages app and sat, checking his last talk to Bakugou.

You:

Hey, i gotta talk to you

BakuBro:

Fine, whatever, I’ll be in the common room.

That was the last few words of a normal conversation that they had before Kiri had destroyed it. The guilt grew in his stomach, he sat there staring at the last comment.

“What are you still doing up shitty hair?”

His eyes snap to the door. There stands Bakugou, eyebrows furrowed and face curved into a sneer, he doesn’t expect anything less.

“I’m here to apologize, I shouldn’t of forced you to do something you didn’t want to.”

Bakugou scoffs and closes the door behind him.

“We have a test tomorrow, you should be sleeping idiot.”

Bakugou gives him this look, it's something that he cannot decipher as much as he tries to. Kirishima wants to ask him, just get it out of the way. Bakugou isn’t one to pity him, he doesn't do that kind of thing but he feels so unnatural about this. He should be angry, he should be blowing up the couches, he should be anything but this calm. If anything he deserves the silent treatment, he doesn’t deserve this.

“What?”

Kirishima feels himself stumble over his words in response. He doesn’t deserve this kindness. So he steps forward, steps out, bracing for impact and hardens himself.

“Hit me.”

It’s a simple command, Bakugou would do it jokingly anyway so Kirishima doesn’t know why he looks so dumbfounded.

“ What?”

“I said hit me, I deserve it. I haven’t been a good friend.”

Bakugou looks like he is going to hit him, but he doesn’t. He clenches his fist and steps forward.

“Go to bed shitty hair.”

“I said hit me.”

Little pops come from Bakugou’s hands and Kirishima braces himself.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, ok.”

There is so much strain in Bakugou’s words as he says it, head turned to the ground and fist so clenched that Kirishima is slightly scared he is going to hurt himself.

“I said you did the right thing idiot, now go the fuck to sleep”

“But...you didn’t want to-“

“I was being stupid ok, I took out anger on you for my own problem. I shouldn’t of let you see me that weak. I’m angry, ok but I’m always angry, but you did the right thing. It’s not your problem anymore. Me going to the therapist is mandatory, your fine. Now go to sleep.”

Bakugou won’t look at him. Kirishima can’t find it in himself to move but he deactivates his quirk.

“Are yo- you sure?”

Bakugou now stares at him, the veins on his forehead pulsing. He reaches forward, to quickly for Kirishima to activate his quirk and bops him on his forehead. Kirishima‘s head bounces back a little from the recoil.

“There, I hit you.”

That’s it. Bakugou walks off without a word, ignoring the stumble of words that come out from Kirishima’s mouth.

“...N-night.”

He knows Bakugou hears him, he even stops for a second but he doesn’t say anything and continues down the hall.

It’s quite in the common room. Kirishima stands there with his hand on his forehead and clueless.

Was that it?

He looks at his phone, it's slowly approaching 9. He can’t tell if he should sleep or confront Bakugou, then phone lets out a small beep.

BakuBro:

Night numbnuts.

Kirishima can’t help but laugh as he begins to walk back to his dorm room.

He’ll take what he can get.

Bakugou stretched as he walked into his room. He would’ve been sore if it wasn’t for the therapy session, taken to training on the field until he deemed it time to do his homework. There was a mix of happiness, for the lack of soreness, not needing to rub one of those muscle relaxer mixtures onto himself, struggling to reach the middle of his back, but a disappointment to not be able to work out his anger onto something.

Bakugou slams himself on the bed, tiredness pulsing through him. Maybe it was a mixture of the anxiety from the waiting rooms and nervousness but he was so tired nonetheless. He quickly pulled off his clothes, sluggishly and letting out a low groan. It isn’t long before he is ready for bed. There is a slight fear behind his eyes as he looks at his matress. He doesn’t want to sleep. He already finished his homework, and Aizawa would probably yell at him if he went to go train this late. He looks around his room, a small regret at leaving it so bare. The only thing he can do is sleep.

He plugs his phone, scans his room for any cleaning he could do, anything to prolong his need to sleep. Nothing. He grudgingly gets into bed, pulling the blankets tight against his body. He prays, even if he doesn’t believe, and closes his eyes.

Please just let me sleep.

And he slowly drifts off.

He wakes up to his own broken scream, tears running down his face and the faint feeling of hands on him.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

It takes longer than normal for him to get his uneven breathing under control. His knees are pulled to his chest and he feels like a little kid, he absolutely hates it. But he can’t let go of his knees, he can’t not feel the hands on his arms and face pulling at him, he can’t just not see the blood he is almost sure is coating his face. God, he is so pathetic.

Once he is finally okay, counting the seconds in a minute, the toes on his feet, and the boards on the floor, can he breathe. The hands are still on his skin, he knows they aren’t but he is too scared to look down at his chest to see. The tears haven’t stopped, he doesn’t make an attempt to, he just wallows in the feeling of disgust for himself.

He looks at the window, almost scared he will see them there but they aren’t and the moon is in the sky, shining softly into his room. Bakugou has never been so thankful for the moon at that moment. He thinks about it for a while and slowly the hands go away but his nails are still stabbing into his own skin. His legs relax and he lays back down. He won’t sleep again.

But then he does something he didn’t expect to. He got up. Usually, he sat there, gasping in fear, panting as he pushed his hands into his face trying to stop the ugly whimpers coming from his mouth. Then he would lay there, sweating and too scared to move until he could see the sun. And he almost repeated it this time but he got up.

He slipped into his sweatpants and pulled one of his loose shirts on. It was probably going to be cold out but he knew if he didn’t go out now he’d just sit in his bed for hours. He grabbed his phone from his charger and left.

When he walked out into the hallway there was a small tinge of fear. It was dark, so fucking dark. He pushed his hands up to a fighting stance and continued down the halls.

It wasn’t long before he got to where he wanted to be. It was cold out, being on the border of the colder months didn’t help. He didn’t activate his quirk though, he just bared the cold and walked faster.

From the ground, the courtyard looked different. The roses looked cold and small in the bitter night breeze. Bakugou reached up and gave the flower feather light touches, curling around the petals and the stem. The petals were a nice velvety, soft and forgiving while the stem gently poked and prodded at his fingertips. He didn’t let go though. He thought of pulling it off of the bush but where would he put it? He let it go and walked to the small benches bordering the garden edges. He felt the cold from the cement through his sweats as he sat down. He briefly questioned if this was Cementoss’s doing or if they bought it. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. A bright 1:19 flashes back at him. He groaned.

He could be training. That would probably be a great stress reliever and effective at getting him tired but he didn’t want to sleep. Didn’t want to invite himself to the terrors his mind melded for him. So he sat there, slouched and hand clasped around each other.

He looked up toward the windows from the building surrounding him. It wasn’t long until he found the window from the medical wing that he peered out of earlier that day. He half expected you to be sitting there and watching him. You weren’t and he grunted.

He sat and thought about you for a while. There wasn’t much to evaluate. You were kind enough but strict in how you went about it. He furrowed his eyebrows wondering if you pitied him and if that was why you brought him over to you. But then you remembered your look, you didn’t care if he was looking or not, you didn’t care if he came over or not but Bakugou’s head slowly built up a wall against those thoughts.

You pitied him. You had to. You saw his idiotic panicking and you wanted to be the bigger person and help him. He was so pathetic.

He threw his head into his hands and groaned. He had actually let someone see that. He snarled to no one in particular and threw a punch at the cement bench. He heard the crack but he ignored it, the bench was fine. His own hand however, pulsed in pain. He slowly stretched his fingers out and in, gladly he hadn't broken it. He didn’t need that to happen again.  

He got up, deciding that the cold was obviously getting to him at that he should start moving to combat it. And so he did. Slowly making his way around the circular part of the inner garden. He didn’t move fast enough to get the benefits of being warm but he was occupied at least. Anything rather to think of how badly he messed up. He continued walking until his legs started to hurt and long after. He sat on another cement bench across from the one he cracked. He laid his back on the cold concrete, it felt like a giant ice cube being pressed against his spine. He ignored the feeling as much as he could until he couldn’t feel it anymore and just laid there. Watching the night sky, he tried to count the stars and try and remember the creatures they made, he had little luck. He didn’t pay much attention to that astrology lesson anyway. He was going to be a hero anyway, not some stupid astrologer.

He didn’t mean to close his eyes as he laid there. When he realized his eyes jumped open and he jumped up. He should go to bed, in his own room. A slow, low fear gripped him. He decided that laying down wasn’t that bad, he wasn’t gonna go to sleep or anything. He looked up at the sky with half lidded eyes, the moon shone back down on him.

It wasn’t long before he couldn’t open his eyes.

He didn’t wake up to an alarm clock like he was use to but instead a bright light in his eyes. He slowly blinked open, hand covering his face. He growled at the light as if it would be intimidated and go away. But instead, he was stuck with a slow wake up. His arms sluggish and his back hurt from the rough sleeping surface. When he was fully awake did he finally register where he was and promptly fell off the bench.

Groaning from the pain of the fall he slowly reached out and grabbed his phone. A 7:38 covered his screen and he cursed himself. Class didn’t start until 8:30, he had plenty enough time but he was sure that there was already people up and walking about the common room.

Fuck.

Pushing himself up from the floor he stuffed his phone in his pocket and made his way to the dorm rooms. He brushed the grass off of his sweats and walked a little faster down the hallway. As he walked he tried his best not to recognize the fact that he didn’t have any more nightmares that night.