#which starts happening as soon as the air around him gets any kinda humid. its very cute

[angel---eater]

dave and dave if he didnt have oculocutaneous albinism (thanks dirk for the health complications)

[mostlydysfunction]

Sacred (NSFW)

Summary: Chloe wakes up on an alien spaceship heading away from Earth in the company of a lone Yautja. 

Pairing: Yautja/Predator x human OC

Warnings: Smut, violence, swearing, shitty attempts at Yautja culture, blood.

A/N: Here it is! Finally! This is more anticipated than I thought it would be. I’m definitely excited for this one though. I do love some big mean alien lizard boys. I definitely tried to get as much right about Yautja culture as I could but don’t expect it all to be right. I definitely took some liberties with it as it is fiction. And I kinda modeled him after the Fugitive Predator from The Predator. 

************

Chloe’s head is throbbing when she wakes. She’s warm, sweat coating her skin. She’s sore, her muscles protesting every movement. She kicks the pelt off her body, rolling over on the hard surface. It takes a moment for her brain to catch up, quickly registering that she wasn’t in her room. Wasn’t in her bed. It was far too firm to be her old mattress, and she didn’t have any animal pelts either.  Second, it was the middle of winter, so there was no way it could be that hot and humid in her room. 

Her body protests as she sits up, rubbing her eyes. The lights in the room are dim, giving her just enough light to see. The entire room seems to be made of metal, floor to ceiling. She’s laying in a sunken part of the floor, oval shaped with a ton of pelts layered under her. She crawls to the step, pulling herself up and onto the metal floor. It’s cool against her body, causing goosebumps to form on her bare legs. She’s been stripped down to her boyshort underwear and the tank top she wore under her clothes. She rubs her legs, feeling a bumpy scar on the back of her calf, running her fingers along the raised, jagged line. Her head is pounding as she looks around the somewhat empty room, seeming all too sterile and plain. 

Her vision spins as she forces herself up onto her feet, her limbs feeling heavy. She can’t remember much, especially how she got to this place. She remembers being in her house, doing her morning routine, but everything after that is blank. She stumbles as she tries to take a step, reaching out to catch herself against a wall. A panel slides up, making her step back in surprise. It was some sort of cover over a window. What Chloe sees out the window takes her breath away. 

Black, inky darkness dotted with billions of pinpricks of light. She presses her hand against the glass, staring out at space in disbelief. Everything comes rushing back to her in that moment, the eventful day slamming back into her brain like a sledgehammer. 

******************

Chloe’s breath steams out in front of her as she treks through the trees, hunting for firewood. She hadn’t expected her central heating to crap out in the dead of winter, forcing her to fire up the old wood stove. To do that, she needed wood to feed the fire. It was the weekend and the repairman couldn’t even come out to her place until Monday at the earliest, so she was stuck either freezing or foraging for logs to tide her over until then. 

The forest was quiet, even for winter. It unnerved her a bit, sending tickles of fear quavering down her spine. Something was off, even her dull human survival instincts able to pick up on it. But she didn’t have a choice. All she had was a small hatchet, and the trees were far too big in her yard for her to cut branches down by herself. 

The creature is practically on top of her before she even knows it’s there. It moves silently, creeping up on her, only its gigantic shadow dwarfing her own giving her any warning that there’s something behind her. Her stomach practically leaves her body as a hand closes around the back of her jacket, yanking her off her feet. A startled yelp leaves her lips as she’s pulled away from the branch she had been inspecting and lifted a good three feet off the ground. 

A growl meets her ears, her brain circulating through all the predators that didn’t go into hibernation that lived in the area, but it’s nothing she recognizes. She’s turned around, coming face to face with a metal mask. The creature holding her is huge and like nothing she’s ever seen before. For one, it’s far underdressed for the weather. The revealed skin is reptilian like, but the fact it was standing on two legs was just the first sign that it was not reptilian, nor probably from the planet at all. It was entirely alien to her. 

It lets out a loud growl in her face, Chloe’s heart nearly stopping at the sound. The growl vibrates through her entire body, her hand gripping the handle of the hatchet tighter. The hatchet. She hadn’t let it go in her surprise when she was yanked off her feet. She grips it even tighter, lifting it before bringing it down hard on the arm that’s holding her up, near the inside of the creature’s elbow. It bellows out, neon green blood leaking from the wound as it lets her go in surprise. 

She drops to the ground, her legs nearly giving out at the force, but she steadies herself, not wasting any time in taking off running back towards her home. Green blood has stained her hatchet, but she doesn’t pay it any mind as she keeps her death grip on it. Trees explode around her as the creature shoots at her, making her duck and weave to try and avoid getting shot. 

She’s nearly to her home when something bites into the back of her leg, cutting clean through the layers on her lower half and into her muscle. It sends her stumbling, landing hard on her knees on the ground. She spins around, finding the creature stalking up towards her. Her leg is on fire, the muscle throbbing in time with her heart. 

Red beams light up on the side of the creature’s mask, forming a triangle-shaped target right at the center of her chest. This was it. This was how she would die. Not peacefully in bed like she’d once hoped, but in the woods in the middle of winter at the hands of an alien creature. 

Chloe closes her eyes, preparing for death, but the shot never comes. There’s a second roar, a different sounding one, before the tree inches from her head explodes. Chloe opens her eyes, finding a second of the reptilian alien creatures having tackled the first, and now they were fighting each other. The new alien is smaller than the other, but still it would dwarf her if she got close enough to it. 

She didn’t plan on testing that theory though, instead reaching to the back of her leg and pulling out the metal device from her leg. It looked almost like an arrowhead, but much larger than any she’d ever seen. She doesn’t spend much time inspecting it, instead forcing herself to her feet. The creatures were engaged in an intense battle and she didn’t want to wind up in the middle of it, more than she already had. So, she pushes through the pain, starting to make her way back towards her home.

She’s almost out of earshot of the battle, which was quite the distance since they were making quite the ruckus when she stops. A thought runs through her mind, guilty and tugging at her heartstrings.

The second creature had saved her. Whether that was its intention, it had inadvertently saved her. Could she really walk away and leave it to possibly end up in the same situation as her? Who would be there to help it? Who’s to say the larger of the two wouldn’t hunt her down as soon as it finished off the smaller one? She had injured it, outright attacking it. She hadn’t known if it was going to hurt her or not, and she had enraged it by trying to get away from it, acting out of fear. So, by extension, the smaller creature’s death could be her fault. 

Chloe curses her soft heart before turning around, pushing herself back the way she’d come, following the sounds of the fight. It sounded closer now, brutal and loud. She was glad she lived in the middle of nowhere, no doubt having tons of people around would make this even more dangerous. Not that she was one to talk. She was walking back into a fight she was far from prepared to join. 

The creatures have formed a small clearing when she finds them again. The trees in the area have been either uprooted or knocked down. The larger one seems to have the upper hand, beating on the smaller one like nobody’s business. So her gut feeling had been right. It looked like she was about to repay the favor she owed to the alien creature. 

It’s not hard to sneak up on them, the ruckus they’re making loud enough to cover her limping footsteps through the snow. She grips her trusty hatchet, coming up behind the larger alien as it sends fist after fist into the smaller alien’s mask. She hesitates for a second, waiting for the creature’s arm to be lowered before she brings the hatchet down, throwing all of her weight into the strike. It digs deep into the creature’s uncovered shoulder, neon green blood spraying and painting the snow at her hit. 

She sees it coming, but her brain reacts too slowly, the creature’s hand sweeping out and hitting her hard. She goes flying back, landing several yards away in the snow. The impact has her choking on air, something cracking audibly at the force of the hit and the impact with the ground. She struggles to bring air back into her lungs, dazed as the snow-covered trees dance and swirl above her head. She vaguely recognizes the sound of something coming towards her, but she can’t do anything. Can’t bring herself to move. 

Chloe’s eyes try to focus on the alien above her, the large creature standing over her. Had it been worth it, signing her death warrant to save an alien that probably didn’t give two shits about her? At least she wouldn’t die with a guilty conscience. 

But the strike never comes. The large alien disappears from her line of sight, Chloe forced to watch the sky darkening. Or was that just her vision fading out? She can barely register the fight happening just a few feet away until she can’t hear it anymore. Was it over or was this her losing her own fight to stay awake? 

The alien appears in her line of sight again, kneeling down next to her. No, this was the smaller one. She could recognize the differences in their helmets, the differences in their sizes. Was he going to finish her off? Kill her for trying to help him? Thank her before leaving her there to freeze and die? The last thing Chloe sees before her vision goes dark is her hatchet in its hand, coming down towards her. 

***********************

Chloe sinks to her knees, staring out at the darkness of space. The alien had abducted her. She had been sure it would kill her too. She had gone in to repay her debt, to help it without even knowing if it was friendly or not. One of its kind had tried to kill her. What had made her think the other one would be any different? 

The sound of an airlock releasing has her spinning around, crouched on the floor next to the window. The alien is there, stepping into the room. He’s a hulking mass of muscle and strength, threatening despite the small amount of armor and lack of visible weaponry he carried. But she had seen what they were capable of with their bare hands, felt what they were capable of with just their strength alone. 

She feels vulnerable, exposed where she is. She’s completely at its mercy and she has no idea what its intentions are. Would it probe her? Run tests on her? Experiment on her? Did it have other intentions? Had she been brought along just for its simple pleasure? She has no idea, and the mask covering its face offers her no hints to its mood, its thoughts, its plans regarding her. 

Chloe takes a deep breath, the air stuttering in her throat as she stares at the hulking alien in the room with her. “You...you brought me here?”

It nods its head once in a quick motion. At least it understands her. 

“I want to go home. I want to go back to Earth.” 

It shakes its head once, again a quick motion. 

Chloe feels her throat wanting to close to hold in sobs, tears threatening to spill. “Why? Why won’t you take me back?” 

It looks down at its wrist gauntlet, pressing a few buttons before looking back to her, speaking with a mechanical voice. “Can’t. Bad Bloods know you now. Too dangerous.” 

The words make little sense to Chloe’s already throbbing head, her brain refusing to put any meaning to them. She drops to her knees again, her body folding in on itself as pain and fear take over. She presses her forehead against the floor, the metal cool against her skin. Despite the heat in the room, she’s shivering, tears starting to pool on the metal below her face. 

Once again she’s taken by surprise at the large creature’s silence, her body springing into action as a warm hand touches her back. She sits up, spinning and throwing a wild fist in his direction. He’s faster than she is though, catching her hand in one of his own huge ones. He’s quick to catch her other hand, holding both of her wrists in one of his hands. His sharp nails prick her skin as she struggles against him, drawing small beads of blood to the surface. His hand smears it on her skin as he forcefully moves her, her back ending up against his chest, both of them sitting on the floor. 

A clicking sound starts deep in its chest, reverberating against her back. It vibrates through her, continuous and slow. It was a purr used by his kind to calm distressed pups and occasionally a distressed or wounded female. He knew humans weren’t capable of this, and didn’t use this to calm their young, but he figures he would try it. Her reaction had not been what he expected, and he had hoped the sedative would keep her asleep for longer than it had.

Eventually his plan does work. Chloe goes limp against his chest, tears still trailing down her face. 

“I just want to go home.” Her voice is weak, hardly more than a whimper. 

He’s warm against her back, his body heat unnatural to her. It had been a long time since a human had held her, but still she knows humans weren’t as warm as him. Her head feels heavy, the throbbing worse from her crying fit. She’s tired and worn out, her head lolling against the creature’s shoulder. Its purring had calmed her down, her brain pulling up something she’d read on the internet about cats purrs calming humans. She’s exhausted and her brain has had too much to deal with, too much information to try to process through, and she finds herself drifting off to sleep. 

************

The little ooman female is finally asleep. 

Tarei’hsan watches her, her body temperature finally lowered, her breathing even. Things had not gone like he’d planned. He knew revealing she was no longer on Earth would be a messy situation, but he had planned on easing her into the idea. He’d forgotten about the viewports on the ship, and she had stumbled across one, making the discovery on her own. 

He wished he could make her understand. 

He’d been sent out to hunt the Bad Bloods, followed them planet to planet, always a step behind them until they’d dallied too long on Earth. He’d finally caught up with them, just in time to find one ready to kill the little ooman currently in his arms. He hadn’t intended on her being there, nor on saving her life. He had a duty he was tasked with, to wipe out the Bad Bloods before they could do any more harm.

But the little ooman was surprising. 

She had come back and saved his life. He had been losing the fight, ready to end both their lives when she’d appeared. She’d nearly died to give him an upper hand. He couldn’t stay there to let other Bad Bloods from that clan take their revenge. Not when she had risked her life for his. 

He was breaking laws having her on his ship. 

But she had proven her bravery. Taken on a Bad Blood to help him. She’d been close to death by the time he’d gotten her to his ship, giving him no other choice but to give her his blood to make sure she healed properly. 

He had broken so many laws in a short amount of time, and he can’t even explain why. 

He could have left her there. Returned to his ship and forgot her existence. But he hadn’t. He had brought her on board his ship, taken her away from her home planet. 

Pauk, he was an idiot. 

Maybe it was the soft curves of her body, the smooth skin pressed close against his own. Maybe it was the musky scent that burned his throat emanating from her. Maybe it was the fire that burned inside her, what he’d seen when she’d attacked the Bad Blood, tried to attack him despite her obvious distress. 

He can’t explain it. 

He doesn’t dwell on it much longer, carefully shifting the female ooman in his arms before lifting her off the floor. He steps back down into his nest, laying her down carefully in the pelts. He covers her body again, watching her for a moment longer before taking his leave, heading back towards the controls. 

*********

Chloe wakes up in the strange bed again. She’s alone once again, something she’s partially glad about. She had lost control of herself, lost any sense of sanity when she’d seen what lay outside the walls surrounding her. She was flying through space. She was some unknown distance from Earth, from her home, from everything she knew. She was on an alien’s spaceship, flying through space to god knows where. 

The entire thing seemed absurd. 

But then again, she had fought off a giant alien reptile creature that had wanted to kill her what seemed like hours ago to her. She’d saved the life of one of them, nearly risking her own to do so. The alien had said she wasn’t safe on Earth. That the “Bad Bloods” knew her. 

That sentence didn’t make any sense to her, but she tries not to dwell on it for the moment. She had more pressing matters. First things first, she really had to pee. 

She climbs out of the bed again, feeling along the wall. There had to be another door somewhere. As soon as she gets close part of the wall opens up, revealing what looks like, to her best estimation, the bathroom. It’s very much nothing like the bathrooms she’s used to, but she does her best. 

Second, she’s starving. 

She’s not sure how long it had been since she’d eaten last, remembering breakfast that morning, but she’s not sure how long ago that day had been. It could have been that morning for all she knew, or it could have been weeks ago. Her sense of time was almost nothing, the never ceasing inky darkness outside the window doing nothing to help. 

Chloe makes her way towards the exit of the room, the door sliding open automatically again. She hesitantly steps out, staying on her toes in case there were more of them on the ship. Or for anything unexpected, really. She wasn’t even sure how big the ship was. 

Not very big, she finds out, walking the entire thing before finding her way to what had to be the control room. The helm. Whatever they called it in spaceships. The door slides open as she comes near, the alien creature spinning around in his chair at the noise. A trilling purr sounds from his throat, but Chloe doesn’t pay any attention to it, her eyes drawn out the front window. She can’t help herself, stepping up closer to get a better view. 

The planet they’re flying by was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Judging by their angle of flight, it wasn’t the one they were going to, but it shocked her nonetheless. She stares at it as they pass, only realizing her mouth is hanging open and she’s nearly standing right next to the pilot’s chair then. 

She steps away, blushing slightly. “Sorry.” She suddenly realizes how bare she is, still only in a tank top and her underwear, crossing her arms over her chest, her fingernails picking at her skin out of habit. “I’m hungry.” 

She feels strange saying that phrase to an alien. She feels like a kid, asking some strange grownup she’s known for five minutes for something to eat. She doesn’t even know if the alien will feed her, or let her starve until they arrive at their destination. Did they eat? Was there food on the ship? 

The alien stands from his seat, and her guess was right. He towers over her by a good two feet, her head not even close to reaching its shoulder. She really felt like a child then, having to bend her neck to stare up at its mask covered face. 

It motions at her with its head to follow and she does, having to speed up to keep up with its fast-paced steps. Another set of doors opens up as it approaches, making its way through them. She follows, unsure of what to do. There’s a table and chairs set up and what she assumes is a food storage area. Again, it’s entirely alien to her, but then again, the entire situation was alien to her. 

She’s directed into one of the large seats, finding it surprisingly cushiony. She feels like a child again, sitting in a chair that’s too big. She watches the creature’s back as it prepares food, Chloe finally questioning what, and if, she can even eat on the ship. His kind obviously ate, but what did they eat? 

It places a metal plate in front of her after a few moments with what looks like chunky mashed potatoes on it, but it smells sort of like a roasted vegetable. She’s reminded of the time she had tried to get into the cauliflower craze, attempting cauliflower mashed potatoes. They hadn’t turned out so great, and even this alien food looked more appetizing than that had. 

Chloe’s stomach cramps uncomfortably and she doesn’t hesitate to dig in, shoveling the strange food into her mouth. It tastes bitter to her, but she doesn’t care. She wasn’t in a position to be picky. It wasn’t like there was a grocery store or a McDonald’s they could pull over and order from. 

The creature sits across from her, watching her through its mask. She was still left with a lot of questions, starting to get curious about her alien...what would she call him? Captor? Abductor? Savior? Companion? She certainly didn’t feel they were on the terms of the latter. Captor seemed a bit too extreme. She obviously had free rein of the ship, and it hadn’t seemed mad that she escaped the room. It was feeding her so obviously it wanted her to live. Savior seemed a bit too gracious. It had taken her from Earth, after all. Abductor it was then. 

Before she knows it, her plate is empty. She feels full, her stomach protesting a bit at being fed so much at once. It had been a big helping, no doubt made for someone his size. He’s still sitting there, having not moved other than a slight twitch here or there. 

It isn’t until she’s finished and puts her utensil down that he finally moves, standing from the table. He motions at her again and she follows, slightly unnerved by the silence. He leads her back to the room, following her inside. She pauses at the edge of the bed, turning back to face him. He’s standing in the doorway, watching her again. She chews on her lip, crossing her arms over her chest again. 

“I...can I ask you a question?” She finally breaks the silence. 

It tilts its head to the side, and she takes that as permission. 

“I want to know...why you took me from Earth. I mean...you said that it was because the Bad Bloods knew who I was, but...I don’t know what that means.” 

He’s still for a moment, and she takes that as a sign that he’s pondering her question. 

It’s a few quiet moments before he moves, gripping her arm and steering her towards the bed. He sits down on the pelts, looking up at her. She follows his lead, sitting a few feet from him so she’s facing him. 

He begins to tell her everything, trying his best in broken English using his translator. It was using English from the little his clan had come in contact with and put in the database, and from the little it had picked up from her speaking. He tells her about his kind, their culture, society, the clans. He tells her about the Bad Bloods and his task to hunt down the ones she had the unfortunate pleasure to come in contact with. 

Chloe soaks it all in, trying to make sense of the strange alien culture. He hadn’t directly answered her question, but had at least made her a bit more relaxed. She knew now why the Bad Bloods were so dangerous, dangerous enough he had abducted her to keep her safe. That thought alone makes her stomach churn. She had openly fought one of them. It could have...would have killed her. 

“But...I still don’t understand...why you abducted me? I mean, yeah, I helped you, but...why me?” 

It regards her silently for a moment, a quiet trilling purr leaving its chest again. It leans forward slightly, getting closer to her. She freezes, staying still as it reaches out, clawed fingers stretching towards her face. She wants to flinch, wants to move, but she forces herself to stay still, watching clawed fingers capture a lock of her hair, running the strands lightly through its fingers. She closes her eyes as the backs of its claws brush against her cheek, her heart rate starting to pick up. 

She’d seen the damage he could do, the full force of his strength, yet his touch was nothing but gentle against her. He lets the strand slide through his fingers, moving his hand away before standing up. Chloe lets her eyes open, following him as he makes his way out of the room silently, her heart still racing. 

*******

Chloe wonders if he ever sleeps as she lays in his bed. She had fallen asleep not long after he’d left her, tired from a lengthy conversation with a copious amount of information. She’s warm again, too warm. The pelts are tucked up around her chin, heavy over her body. They weren’t an animal she recognized, not that she knew much about animal fur outside of domesticated animals. But it would make sense for them to be something entirely alien. 

Chloe goes to roll onto her back, but she doesn’t make it far, colliding with something solid behind her. She freezes, her body going rigid immediately. A low purr rumbles against her, the solid mass behind her shifting slightly. So that was her answer. He did sleep. 

She lays still, waiting for him to move, waiting for him to push her away, do something, but he doesn’t. He’s just as still as she is. She takes a few shallow breaths to calm herself, not wanting to disturb him. She wonders if he’s awake, doing the same thing, waiting for her to move. 

After a few tense moments of stillness, she decides she’ll be the first to move. She slowly wiggles forward, pulling herself away from him using the pelts. She doesn’t get very far before a hand grips the back of her tank top, claws scratching lightly against the skin of her back before she’s pulled the few inches back against the alien. He lets her go immediately, settling back down. Chloe lets out the breath she’s holding, letting her body relax again. 

Chloe slowly turns again, shifting until she’s facing him. He’s on his back, face pointed up at the ceiling. He’s still wearing his mask, giving her no sign of if he’s awake or asleep again. She takes this moment to study him up close, not having gotten a chance to do so before. She had been right about him being reptilian like, his scaled mottled skin colored in tones of dark green and almost black, lighter on his chest before getting darker along his arms and shoulders. She can see the clear lines of his muscle, stomach contracting with each breath. She draws her gaze higher up, sliding up his chest and over the strange armor covering one shoulder. She continues her journey, eyeing the strange dreadlocks coming from his head. She reaches a hesitant hand up, her fingers closing around the end of one. 

His hand shoots up, grabbing her own. She tenses, but his grip is light, pinning her hand against his shoulder. His skin is rough against her own, not unlike the alligator bag her mother owned. His face turns towards her, a deep purr sounding from his chest. It’s continuous rumbling against her hand. The dreadlock between her fingers is oddly rough and ridged, like it had been worn down by time. It reminds her a bit of rubber tubing, but slicker. 

The low purring continues as he moves her hand, her fingers releasing the dreadlock. He holds her hand up, studying it. It was small compared to his own, her entire hand, fingers and all, able to fit in his palm. She leans up on her elbow on the other arm, watching him. 

“Do you always wear the mask?” She asks, curiously breaking the silence. 

He shakes his head, releasing her hand. She brings her fingers to his mask, tracing the smooth metal with her fingers. 

“Why won’t you take it off around me?” He doesn’t give her an answer, his hands falling back to his sides. She sits up, crossing her legs beside him. “Come on, you can’t be that bad looking.” 

He stares at her through the mask for a few more moments before reaching up and undoing his mask. Chloe tries to keep her breathing steady, trying not to react as he reveals his face to her for the first time. 

Yeah, okay, maybe it could be that bad. 

It wasn’t that he was ugly; he was just...different. 

Alien. 

His eyes are bright yellow, staring at her with a permanent glare. He lacks a nose, his mouth holding sharp teeth not unlike fangs. His mouth is covered by mandibles, four of them that click together as he moves them. There are spikes lining his face where the dreadlocks sprout from his head. They’re not unlike hair, but they look sharper and coarser. She takes him in, unable to stop the uneasy feelings coursing through her. The fear. His was a face made to be feared. To invoke the need to run from him like a predator chasing prey. That was the feeling she felt around him. Like she was his prey, despite the fact he hadn’t made one remotely violent move towards her. 

The purring starts again, his mandibles twitching as he lifts his hand to her face, moving slowly as not to scare her. She stays still, letting him come closer. His hand could easily cover her face entirely, but she pushes that thought away as he runs a clawed fingertip over her lips. He moves his hand, his thumb and forefinger gripping her chin lightly. His free hand is in her hair again, claws parting the strands, pulling out tangles as he goes. 

She relaxes into his touch, a content sigh leaving her lips. It’s matched by a trilling purr, the alien letting his hands fall back to the pelts. Chloe opens her eyes, letting them fall on his face again. 

“I...I just realized...I don’t know your name.” 

“Tarei’hsan.” He answers her, her brain trying to formulate the name. 

“Tarei...hsan?” She tries to form her mouth around it, a frown marring her face. “I feel like you need a nickname.” She tilts her head, her hand coming to rest on his mesh covered stomach absentmindedly. She studies him for a moment. “How about...Tusk.” 

He lets out a trill, his mandibles clicking together. 

She takes that as a yes, smiling. “My name’s Chloe.” 

“Kh-loee.” He tries to pronounce it, making her giggle. 

“Maybe I need a nickname too.” 

He reaches up, tracing a claw down her arm. “Yeyinde.” 

Chloe smiles. “I hope that means something good.” 

His mandibles click again. “Brave.” 

Chloe’s cheeks heat up, bowing her head bashfully. “I’m not so sure about that.” 

His fingers are on her chin again, lifting her face so she’s looking up at him. He’s sitting up now, his gaze firm as he stares at her. “Brave.” 

************

It’s two days later by Tarei’hsan’s clock that the nightmares start. It’s the noises that draw him from his sleep. He had grown used to the sounds she’d make, the sighs, the occasional soft sounds from her throat. But this one was different. He thought someone had snuck on board, gotten into their room without him sensing it, and was attacking her. But his eyes find no one in his quick scan of the room. Her eyes are screwed shut, a frown pinching her face. Her hands are gripping the pelt thrown over her, a cry leaving her lips as she twitches in her sleep. 

He’s purring before he even realizes he’s doing it, reaching out towards her tense body. He touches her shoulder, shaking her gently. It takes a couple of tries before she starts awake, yanking herself from his grip. Her eyes are wide in the human expression of fear and he purrs louder at her to calm her. She takes two deep breaths before she calms, running her fingers through her hair. 

“Sorry. I...bad dream.” 

She pulls her knees to her chest, keeping her gaze lowered from him. He trills at her, reaching out a hand. She stares at it for a moment before slowly reaching forward, putting her hand in his. He pulls her forward and into his arms, holding her like females of his kind hold their pups. His kind weren’t known for being affectionate, weren’t known for being fond of prolonged touch. But he knew humans were. He knows by the way she relaxes in his hold, practically melting against his chest. He sits back, holding her against his chest, a quiet purr rumbling through them both. 

He knows she doesn’t go back to sleep. He knows he can’t either. He wasn’t a stranger to night terrors. He knew they were natural to humans, their own brains frightening them in their sleep. His kind didn’t dream, didn’t sleep like humans did. Humans were strange creatures, weak but cunning enough to beat some of the best Yautja warriors. Some clans thought them disgusting, pitiful creatures. Some considered them worthy opponents. But he had not heard of one going so far as he had. To save one, bring her aboard his ship and intend to take her back to his clan ship. She had proven herself worthy in his eyes, but his eyes did not matter. 

*********

Tarei’hsan had slowed the ship significantly. He could have been back to his clan ship in a matter of a couple days if he’d wanted to. But he didn’t. He knew what was waiting for him once he returned. Taking her aboard would be a risk. They could kill her whether they believed what he claimed. He didn’t want that to happen. He considered leaving his clan behind, flying to some distant planet on the far side of the galaxy and hiding there with her. But they would find him, eventually. That would consign both of them to certain death. 

He stares out at the space in front of him, his mandibles clicking as he thinks of what to do. He didn’t want to lose the strange little ooman that had caught his attention. But he also didn’t want to risk running either. He’s so lost in thought he almost doesn’t hear her approaching. It isn’t until she’s close enough to touch him that he whirls around in his seat, startling her. 

She takes half a step back, dropping the hand that had been outstretched at his movement. He lets out a quiet purr, letting his body relax. She lets out a breath, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Yeyinde.”

“You didn’t come back for a bit. I just...wanted to check on you.”

He trills in response, reaching out for her again. He doesn’t move, letting him pull her onto his lap before he turns his chair again, letting her see out the front viewport. She leans back against him, legs spread over his own. He watches her for a moment before pulling his mask off, leaning down to let his mandibles tangle in her hair. She smelled good, clean. He had shown her the bathing room, letting her clean herself up. She smelled like soap, but he can also detect her natural scent beneath it. He feels his own body react to it, stomach clenching in response. 

Chloe’s nose tickles for a moment. She had been lost in thought, staring out at the hundreds of stars in front of them. Tusk had his mandibles in her hair again, something he’d taken to doing recently. She was okay with that, considering her hair was clean now. His body was moving slightly under hers, his muscles flexing as he presses closer to her hair. Something musky tickles her nose, reminding her a bit of a men’s locker room at a gym. Tusk’s arms wrap around her body, pulling her tighter against him. Any tighter and she’s worried he might crack something. 

“Tusk...” She says, her hands lifting to his arms where they’re holding onto her. “Any tighter and I won’t be able to breathe.” 

He doesn’t loosen his hold, his back bending slightly over her as his mandibles move down her hair, touching the skin of her face. She stays still, barely breathing as the sharp mandibles move along her skin, tracing along her jaw and neck. She holds back a shiver, goosebumps forming on her skin from the feeling. How easily he could kill her. One hard squeeze and he would pop a few internal organs, puncture something with a broken rib. One hard bite from his sharp teeth and she’d bleed out in a matter of minutes. 

The thought thrills her. 

She feels as if she’s lost her mind, biting back a moan as his mandibles trace over the sensitive skin of her neck. She can feel an uncomfortable wetness between starting between her legs. It had been a long time since anyone had touched her so intimately, since anyone had been so close to her. Since anyone had that effect on her. Tusk’s purrs deepen, her entire body seeming to vibrate with the sound. She tilts her head back, exposing herself to him, making herself vulnerable. He jerks against her, his sharp fang-like teeth scraping against the skin of her neck as his mandibles wrap nearly clear around her throat. His forked tongue is rough, almost like a cat’s, as it slides against her sweat slicked skin. She’s on fire, every nerve ending awake and firing as he touches her. 

She doesn’t know what had changed, what had brought on this frenzy in both of them. Maybe he had alluded to it in the very beginning. The increasing touches, the way he shamelessly slept next to her, the way he’d walked around after coming out of the bathing room in buck naked, forcing her to bury herself in the pelts in his bed out of embarrassment. Maybe it had been his plan all along in taking her, using her for his pleasure. But if that was the case, wouldn’t he have just done it? 

Her hand is on his before she can put much more thought into it, her brain buzzing as his tongue burns a trail down her neck and shoulder. He lets her direct him, moving his hand to the warmth between her legs. She’s horribly damp, soaking through the underwear and onto her thighs as she presses his much larger hand against her. His claws bite at her skin, but it just adds to the sensation, her hips bucking against his thick fingers as he explores her through her underwear. She doesn’t know what females of his kind are like anatomically speaking. She’s not even entirely sure what he’s like anatomically. She had ducked so fast under the pelts when he’d come out naked she hadn’t bothered to sneak a peak at him. 

He growls low, wrapping his hand around the waistband of her panties before yanking them off. She wants to protest, but he returns the rough pads of his fingers to her slit and all complaints are forgotten before they can leave her mouth. His thighs hold hers open, her hips lifting to press into his hand. She’s disadvantaged, unable to really see him, forced instead to look out at the inky darkness of space and the passing gas giant. The view really settles the reality of the current situation. She was getting off at the hands of an alien in a spaceship probably hundreds of light-years away from Earth. 

But the way his claws brush against her clit have the thoughts drifting from her mind. 

Sounds are leaving her mouth now, moans and whimpers that are like sweet music to his ears. He’s never heard anything like it, his kind unable to make such noises. He’s slick and hard, straining against his coverings as she writhes against him. He knows he has to be careful. Her kind weren’t entirely different from his, just distinguishingly smaller. He knew little about the human mating process but he had a plethora of experience mating his own kind. He’d sired enough pups to know he was well liked and even sought after by a few females. But none of them had affected him the way the tiny human in his arms was in this moment. 

She was tight. 

Careful of his claws, he attempts to work a finger into her slick passage, her walls gripping him tight like a vice. She’s panting where she’s limp against his chest, gripping his arm that’s still around her tightly. He lets out a trilling purr, working his finger into her. She opens up around it slowly, letting him slip more and more into her. If she was this tight around his finger, pauk what she would feel like around him. 

But he holds back. 

He was big. Not just in general compared to her. He was big in all areas. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, and so he could control himself. If she saw him and was afraid, he wouldn’t force himself on her. A good male could control himself enough around a female, prove to her he was worthy of taking her. Despite his length pressing uncomfortably against his coverings, he wouldn’t lose himself like a Young Blood around this ooman. 

He releases his hold around her middle, his hand trailing down the smooth skin of a trembling thigh. She arches away from him, her back bowing as he slips his finger in and out of her. 

“Tusk.” His nickname leaves her lips in a moan, her head falling back against his shoulder revealing more of her neck to him. If only she knew what it meant in his culture to leave herself so vulnerable to him in this moment. 

She reaches back, her hand tangling in his dreadlocks. He practically lets out a roar, his claws digging into her skin until she hisses, five red dots appearing on her skin. He freezes, pulling his claws out of her skin. He looks down, finding her staring up at him before a wicked smirk twists the corner of her lips upward. He doesn’t have time to consider the meaning before she wraps a hand around one of his dreadlocks, yanking hard enough to jerk his head to the side. 

He lets out a roar this time, all pretenses gone as he stands, holding her under his arm as he practically runs back to the room. He drops to his knees on the pelts, her body flopping from his grip onto her back on the furs. She’s spread open before him, the scent of her leaching into him, driving him wild. His body is still aflame from her touch in his locks, leaving all doubt in his mind behind. He undoes the straps, yanking off his coverings, leaving him bare and presenting in front of her for her approval. Chloe stares at him wide eyed, taking him in truly for the first time. 

Jesus, he’s huge. 

She tries to form words, taking in his familiar shape but entirely alien form. It was certainly phallic in nature, but the top of it flared out, ridges and bumps lining the sides. It was thicker at the base than at the top, making her wonder how in the hell it was all going to fit inside her. It had to be the length of her forearm easily. 

She stumbles over her words, trying to think of something, anything to say as he stays completely still, his length moving as he breathes. “O-Oh...” She sits up, cautiously reaching a hand out. 

He’s slick, almost like a natural lubrication. She’s grateful for that, not even sure that her excessive wetness would help him fit inside her. He lets out a breath as she touches him, the warmth of it fanning over her head. He’s warm in her hand, her fingers barely able to close all the way around it. She doesn’t have much experience in the realm of male anatomy. Not that it would help her in this situation. 

She looks up at his face, his yellow eyes burning into her. She moves her hand along his shaft experimentally, watching him. His mandibles move, clawed hands curling into fists as she touches him. She wonders what he tastes like, but she’s not sure she’s quite ready for that yet, still trying to mentally prepare herself for fitting him inside her. His finger had been big, but this was something else entirely. 

“Tusk...” She bites her lip, fingers teasing his head. 

His hips jerk as his hand cups her chin, lifting her face back up to him. “Yeyinde can...say...no.” 

Chloe feels tears well in her eyes despite the current situation. She was half naked in an alien spaceship with an equally half naked alien standing over her while she had her hand wrapped around its dick and he was telling her she could say no to him. Even as far gone as both of them obviously were, he was saying she could change her mind. That he would respect her. 

“I...Thank you. But...I...I want to.” She feels as if she seals her fate with those words. Not that she was complaining. 

He carefully slides out of her hand, moving so he’s laying down on his back. She doesn’t understand the importance of what he had just done, what he was doing for her in that moment. In normal Yautja mating, the female would fight to get the male to that position, a battle between the two of them with one of them coming out on top. By laying down for her, he was submitting to her, letting her know that she was in control. He could have easily dominated her, taken her from behind as most males did to females. But she wasn’t Yautja. She was ooman. It would not have been a fair fight. 

She seems to know what to do, straddling his thick waist with her thighs. She pulls her tank top off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. He reaches his hands up, claws brushing over her nipples. She shivers, biting her lip as she moves over him. She’s still wet, sliding the tip of him along her slit a couple times. He watches her, watches the tip of him disappear into her. 

He felt thicker than he looked, Chloe burning at the stretch of him. She presses her hands into his stomach, holding herself up as she goes centimeter by centimeter along his length. Despite both their natural lubricants, it’s still a tough stretch. She’s panting and shaking, his own breathing even and deep as he traces her nipple with his claws. Her own hand goes to her clit, circling it to help her ease up around him. 

He doesn’t move, letting her take as much of him as he can. He’s impressed by her, nearly his entire length disappearing into her before she stops, fluttering around him. He lets out a growl but doesn’t move, proving his self control by letting her call the shots. She slowly moves, the ridges along his dick rubbing against her in a way that has her legs shaking already. She knows she will not last long. It had been a long time since she’d had sex, or even orgasmed and she knows by the way he hit that spot inside of her this would be over before she knew it. 

Tarei’hsan watches the little ooman as she writhes on top of him. She’s tighter than he had imagined, squeezing him almost painfully. Every so often she’d flutter around him, making him growl in response. He felt like a Young Blood again, ready to lose control of himself already but he holds himself in check. But the way her back arches, pressing her breasts into his hands, the way she grinds against him is making controlling himself hard. He had been holding himself back, wanting to focus purely on the task he had been assigned and had forgone mating during their last mating season. And now he was breaking another law, mating with his tiny ooman. 

Something in his brain snaps as she cries out, body shaking as she tries to keep up her pace. He knows she’s getting tired, so he moves his hands down to her hips, moving her with his own strength. She lets him, gripping his wrists as he bounces her on his cock. His brain pictures her dripping with his seed, pumping her full of it. Seeing the tiny ooman swollen with his pup, breeding an entire army of them with her. 

He can’t help himself, thrusting up hard into her, a startled yelp leaving her as he sinks even deeper into her, his hips snapping up into hers. He’s lost all control of himself, her walls fluttering, gripping him tighter and tighter until she lets out a scream, nearly suffocating him with how tight she grips him. He matches her scream with a roar, nails digging into her waist, drawing blood as he spills into her, yanking her down before sinking his teeth into her shoulder. She jerks against him, yelping in pain, but he’s too lost to pay any mind to it in that moment. The tanginess of her blood hits his tongue, her body shaking against his as she squeezes around him once more. He’s pulsing hot inside her, twitching as he empties himself into her. 

He holds her there for a few moments, her body twitching against his chest still as he pulls himself away from her shoulder, laving over the wound with his tongue. Her eyes are closed as he moves her, rolling her onto her back, separating them. He gets up, going to the bathing room to grab a cloth to clean the blood and seed off of her. 

Her hand is between her legs when he returns, gathering some of his seed before bringing it close to her face. 

“Your cum is green too?” She asks, looking up at him. 

He huffs out a laugh, watching his seed drip out of her. It was less neon than his blood, but it was still shockingly green. He cleans the blood off her shoulder, grabbing his Medicomp and using gel to close the wounds on her shoulder and his claw marks on her hips before cleaning his seed from between her legs. She whimpers slightly as he touches her, no doubt she’ll be sore when she tries to move again. 

She watches him retreat back to the bathing room, taking him in fully. He certainly was a beautiful sight. An odd, but beautiful sight. 

He returns, stripping off the rest of his armor before laying down next to her. She curls up against him, resting her head against his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her, tracing her smooth skin. He was a goner now, having broken practically every sacred law in his clan against oomans. But he finds no regret. The soft body against his, the warm puffs of her breath against his skin as she drifts off to sleep. He would betray his clan for her. Fight every last Elder until they were all dead in order to keep her. Nothing would take her from him. 

The lights of the ship go on, disturbing their peaceful moment, an alarm blaring obnoxiously in warning. 

Part 2

[poptod]

The Ivory Haunting pt. 4 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: It’s getting a little harder to exist with your truth.

Notes: its such a struggle to find new gifs for stories these days (cause i fucking used all of them already). also quick note: this starts off kinda spooky and depressing but theres also some heavy petting shit going on WC: 2.3k

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They come to you at any moment. Terrorizing your normal life. You hadn't considered this, hadn't even thought of it becoming reality, but it's true and clear enough to see by now.

It's ripping you apart, slowly. You're not really supposed to be here, but are you even yourself anymore? When had the change occurred when you were no longer familiar in the mirror, when you expected nails doused in Egyptian blue rather than the plain ones on your hands? Sometimes you don't respond to your name––ever since remembering the name you carried as a servant, it stuck in your head. Plaguing you. Tearing down the life you've made, duct-taping in its' place Ahk's life for you.

Memories can make you sick, and they often do, striking you anytime something remotely reminds you of something you used to know. Unlike the first time it happened, you can't seem to stay fully conscious. Now you're missing the feeling of blacking out – it's safer than when you collapse to the floor, waking up with bile in your mouth.

How dreadfully pathetic you've grown.

You barely sleep but can't seem to stay awake, desperate for rest but unable to reach it. Most food doesn't sit well in your stomach––for the past five days you've eaten three pieces of toast and drank your weight in water. Fortunately it doesn't physically show all that much, so it allows you an excuse as to why you still won't tell Ahk. He doesn't notice. He doesn't need to, and it's not important.

Your laugh is quiet, and rare these days, so it delights Ahk when you do. By now he's noticed your anxiety––he's horribly protective of you, but he understands what boundaries are. Just wants what will make you happy. So he spends time making sure there are more people in the room than just the two of you, moving the pressure of conversation off you. When he does want to speak to you alone, he takes you on these long walks.

It's cold as fuck.

Sleet lines the sidewalks, wet and slimy and full of dirt spiralling off car wheels. It can't even be called snow anymore––it's just a slush, but fortunately the actual sidewalks are still walkable. Like most evenings these days the streets are empty, barren of conversation and a social desert. That's what's safe, but it still puts you on edge. The only other movement ––cars included––is a man about a block in front of you, smoking something beside the only open store; a Tesco.

"Whoof," Ahk says as you get closer, his hand sneaking up around your waist to pull you closer. You don't trust that guy either. "That.. is very strong."

"What is?" You ask softly, looking up at him.

"That smell. I think it's what he's smoking. Can you not smell it?"

"No," you say, though you don't particularly mind. Tobacco isn't an all-too pleasant smell.

"You'll see soon, we'll have to pass him anyway," he mumbles, rubbing circles into your side with his thumb when he feels your shoulders tense.

You step slightly into Ahk's side as you pass the smoker, your mask already on from the moment you saw him. Ahk doesn't wear one––which is fair, since he's already dead and can't get sick––but this man doesn't seem like he cares whether or not you have a mask. You avert your eyes as you pass him. He does the exact opposite; stares at you, blowing a hefty cloud of smoke into your face.

That's not tobacco. Not at all. You can't even tell what it is, but it makes your vision spot out, head swirling in your skull as you lose your balance. Your eyes shut the moment you try to blink.

"Don't pay attention to him," he whispers against your temple, barely having to move with you pressed against his side.

What little sunlight gets through the tented room is turned a vibrant red, casted onto the carpet with swirling designs. They reflect from the tapestries hung on the ceilings, drooping just slightly and lined with knotted fringes. The doorway is made of the same thin cloth, a tiny crack between the two flaps letting pure sun seep in, illuminating the smoke dancing just below the ceiling.

The whole room is shaped in a circle, allowing a ring of seats, all of which are taken up by people you don't know. The prince knows them––or he says he knows them––but that in no way comforts you. Just because he's nice doesn't mean the people he knows are. They certainly don't seem nice, eyeing you up and gauging your thoughts, sizing you down to what they can get away with. It's a look you're familiar with; you got a lot of them when you were on sale, sat outside in the boiling sun all day till your skin cracked.

And suddenly you're property again. Time with Ahk sort of... made you forget about that. You're not sure if that's a good or a bad thing.

While some of the smoke in the small, humid room is coming from burning incense, the majority of it is coming from a strange glass and metal mechanism the men are handing back and forth. The smoke isn't all that thick like the incense, but the smell is pungent––unlike anything you've smelled before, which is strange, since according to Ahk it's a plant he gave you once.

He hasn't told you what it is he's smoking, giving you that single hint before falling quiet with a sly, mischievous smile. When the mechanism is handed to him he doesn't hesitate––sets his lips upon the mouthpiece and intakes a deep breath. He fiddles with something on the side that you can't see before letting go, a long breath tainted with heavy smoke leaving his chest. It spins in the air, curls in the rays of sunlight, dancing in a way that shouldn't be beautiful but mystifies you.

Their eyes are still on you. Your chest constricts, mind telling you that you mustn't move, too terrified of making the wrong one. Even breathing is suspect as the eyes drag back up to your face, demanding you look to them.

You don't.

The soft conversation in the room isn't enough to steady your nerves, and to your immense relief the prince notices. He leans away from you, towards the man that owns the smoking den, muttering something in his ear that gets him to stand. You don't miss the bag of coin Ahk slips him, either. Though the man's eyes do fall to you for a moment he doesn't linger, calling the rest of those gathered to leave the tent.

When the last person steps out your shoulders instantly release their tension, your breathing once more returning to you.

"Better?" He asks you.

You nod. He's had his arm around the back of your seat the entire time, but without outside stimulus, it's now all you can feel. His skin is always warm, always soft, but you never give into it first. He has to initiate it. So as much as you want to lean into him and rest your head against him, you don't.

"Have you ever smoked?" He asks, reaching forward to put the glass contraption back in his lap.

"No," you say. "What is it?"

"It's... a mix of things. Won't do much but calm you down," he assures you, and though you know that's probably not the whole truth, you allow him to hand it to you anyway.

It's a little heavy––the weight is unbalanced, but Ahk helps balance it in your lap, instructing you with his hands in how to use it. When you take in the smoke––or is it vapor?––it slides hot down your throat, drying you out and swelling in your lungs. A long sigh allows the smoke to leave you, plumes of it coming from your lips and drifting up into the low ceiling. You don't cough but you do need water.

"See?" He says. "That was a very smooth draw. I'm impressed."

You blush a bright red at the compliment, visible even in the dim of the room, and he doesn't even give you the courtesy of hiding his reaction. He chuckles softly, leans over and presses a kiss to your temple before taking in more smoke.

Two more draws and you're feeling it heavy on your skull. There's pressure around your chest, like you're being squeezed, but it's a pleasant sensation. A bit like being hugged. Everything else is just warm––dry on your tongue, hot on your cheeks and down between your thighs. You shift in your seat, hoping to relieve some of the pressure without giving anything away. How inappropriately your body reacts to something simple in the presence of the Prince.

"You're very quiet company," he notes softly, and you can feel his eyes on the top of your head. Slowly you turn, meeting his almost concerned gaze. "Do you ever have anything on your mind? You can speak freely around me."

Now he has to ask you what you're thinking about? Now of all times? Couldn't have done it when the two of you were staring at the stars, or when he took you by the riverside––it has to be now, when all you can think about is the places on you he hasn't touched, places that burn with desperation to be touched for once, away from the hunger affection's absence has given you.

Now.

"My mind is... a little... not alive right now," you say in slow, enunciated words that shake on your lips.

"Ah, yes," he says as though he understands, and considering how familiar he was with smoking, you're sure he does. But he lets out a soft sigh as he speaks, leaning into you as you press your back against a wall of cushions, allowing him to rest his head upon your chest. "I understand perfectly well. Blue lotus can do that. Mmm..."

He drifts off, words falling flat as he moves against you. Not once does he stop––just keeps shifting till he's wedged gently between your legs, lips on your collar. It isn't quite fear that courses through you, though it is familiar in a way that should be frightening. Just the touch is familiar, and with each grace you can feel echoes in your mind of other times you were touched in such ways. Times where you didn't have a choice. His fingers run down your back, and now he feels the marks of whips.

He's felt them before. When he feels them again, his kisses are softer, sweeter on your skin than anyone before ever cared to do. Your heart beats out of its' chest but you know you can make him stop. You find you don't especially want to––that heat between your legs couples nicely with the feel of his hips on yours, pushing and grinding against you until a moan falls unwillingly from your mouth.

Too good––your body shakes at simple stimulation, too sensitive just from his hand climbing lower against your waist. You breathe in sharply each time his fingertips brush your skin. It's then that he rests his palm on your knee, climbing upwards on the skin of your thighs. You know he can feel your nerves––it practically burns you, but he chuckles, rumbles warm against your chest as he just climbs higher. The tip of his thumb reaches your heat and you jump, shocked at the sudden gentle touch.

"Breathe, my love," he murmurs right in your ear, low and sweet and oh so assuring. "Breathe."

Your eyes flutter shut, darkness encompassing you as his touch turns cold.

"(Y/N)? Breathe, please," he pants out, hands unable to choose which part of you to hold; your face, your hands, your waist. You open your eyes and the stars are above you, muted by a bright streetlight.

"Ahk?" You mumble, half-slurred in your half-conscious state. There’s a piercing freeze around you.

"There you are," he says, relief staining his eyes with tears when he pulls you into a tight hug, practically ripping you away from the cold ground and into his touch. You melt into him––of course you do.

"Shit, I'm sorry man," says a strange voice, rough and soft-spoken. You turn away from Ahk, finding the smoking man above you, his cigarette put out on the ground a few feet away. "Didn't know you had asthma. You should probably get that checked out, could'a died without an inhaler."

"Why.. didn't I, then?" You ask quietly, still unable to fully keep your balance.

"I had an inhaler," another voice says. Over Ahk's shoulder there's yet another stranger, but this one has a mask. "Don't worry about the germs, I disinfected it before we used it," he assures you.

"Thank you," you mutter.

You sway even in your seated position, counting on Ahk to catch you, which he does. Your head lolls onto his shoulder as he moves to his feet. Before leaving he thanks both strangers––even the one who caused it, since he's nice––and keeps you close as the two of you head back to the museum.

"You didn't tell me you have asthma," Ahk says, one arm still set protectively around you.

"I don't," you answer hoarsely.

"Oh. Then what do you think caused it?"

"Maybe it's the scent," you say, as nothing rings clearer in your mind than the scent of burning blue lotus.

"Makes sense. The man––he told me he was smoking blue lotus. Have you ever been around that before?"

There’s your trigger right there, then.

"... no," you say. It's technically true; you, as yourself, in this body, have never been around it.

"I'll make sure to keep it away from you, now that we know. Alright?"

"Yeah, um.. yes. Thank you," you mumble, leaning into him with eyes that can't seem to stay open.

"Of course, my love."

[def-initely-soul]

Can I get some Jaebum, in a creepy setting with the prompt “I’m calling it. We are lost in the woods.”? If I can't..well...we both know I can. ☺��❤️ Oh and make it 80s themed.

damn right you can! (i mean come on, really, did you think I was gonna say no?)

pairing: jaebum from got7 x reader (f.)

prompts: “I’m calling it. We are lost in the woods.”

genre: supernatural au; witch au; 80s au; horrorish

warnings: mention of pregnancy gone wrong

words:  5.7k (what is wrong with me, these are supposed to be drabbles...)

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.

“I’m calling it. We are lost in the woods.”

Jaebum sighs out loud, already regretting having Jinyoung tag along with him in the first place. He knew his more logic-driven friend wouldn’t have supported this outing and yet he couldn’t leave him out of this. Not when Jackson himself had tagged along as well.

“We’re not lost in the woods okay? I know where we’re going...” Jaebum repeats for what feels like the hundredth time tonight as his flashlight flickers for a second. With a curse, he shakes the thing before the light flickers back on. He can swear he just replaced the batteries in this thing.

“Are you sure? Because all I’m seeing are trees, not some bitchin’ witchin’ house in the woods,” Jinyoung retorts and Jaebum rolls his eyes even if he keeps moving forward.

The reason the three of them are out tonight and not on Mark’s rad Halloween party is that they’re out on a search for their town’s own resident witch. It’s rumoured that once upon a time a witch lived in those woods, granting wishes to children that were brave enough to befriend her. Jaebum supposes it’s more of a cautionary tale about judging someone before you meet them than an actual event.

Still he has to try.

“Oh that sounds gnarly, try saying it quick. Bitchin’ witchin’, bitchin’ witchin’, bitchin’ witchin’...” Jackson interrupts from next to Jaebum, repeating the mantra with a level of concentration Jaebum hasn’t seen him use ever. Not even for math class.

“Yeah, Jackson that’s great but it would be even greater if we weren’t lost in the middle of the woods, searching for a witch that might not be even real! I mean she was here, what? 300 years ago or so?” Jinyoung is relentless in trying to get them to return back home. Jaebum doesn’t answer him and keeps moving forward, his boot crunching the dead leaves on the ground as the sun finally disappears behind the mountains.

Jackson chuckles nervously. “Ugh, take a chill pill dude, Jae said he had a reason to look for her, so we’re here to support him,” he replies calmly and that seems to shut Jinyoung up. The three friends keep walking in silence, Jaebum a few steps ahead as he clutches on the book that has any information regarding the witch.

She first started granting wishes around the 1600s, the then-village having a small period of tranquillity as everyone had their wishes fulfilled and the witch got almost everything she needed for free in return. But then a kid disappeared. A young girl at the age of 18, like Jaebum’s age now, leaving no trace of her behind. No letter, no nothing. They couldn’t find anything and everyone immediately suspected the witch.

They burned her at the stake and she, feeling wronged, threatened the town with her upcoming return to steal all their children until the town went down in ruins.

Of course, that never happened and the only thing that’s left of that bedtime story is this book, reciting the legend and a small poem that’s supposed to help someone find their way to her lair.

Beneath the barren willow tree Eternal maiden of the light shall be The ticking clock appoints to three Three of service and so would be But beware the fickle call of darkness Its binds are full of lies and harshness Black and green won't lie to you Protect that which appeals for you

Most of it doesn’t make any sense but Jaebum at least can tell that he’s supposed to find a barren willow tree.

“Can you at least tell us why we’re going there? What are you gonna ask for if we find her?” Jinyoung tries again, this time much calmer and understanding. And yet Jaebum doesn’t respond.

Jackson sensing Jaebum’s hesitation jumps in to answer the question himself. “Well, I don’t know about you dinguses, but I’m gonna wish for Ana saying yes to one date!” he says, eyes staring ahead dazedly with a lovesick smile and Jaebum drowns a chuckle.

“Isn’t this like, kinda forcing her to go out with you though?” Jinyoung claims and Jackson groans.

“No, I mean I sure hope it’s not! I won’t ask for her to date me, I’m just asking for an opportunity to show her what an amazing boyfriend I’ll be!” Jackson claims and Jinyoung rolls his eyes even though a smile is etched on his features.

“I really doubt you need that man...” he admits and Jaebum agrees. It’s been really fun watching Jackson make a fool out of himself trying to impress her (he even tried moonwalking), but it would be even more fun if he actually didn’t impress her.

The girl is hella mad about him and the only person who can’t tell is Jackson.

Jackson smiles at Jinyoung’s words. “You really think so? I can’t wait to meet her tonight at the party! Wait till she sees my Luke Skywalker costume,” he says, taking out his fake lightsaber to swoosh in the air.

“Hm, but if she’s dressed like last year you won’t match...” Jaebum observes and Jackson lets out a heavy, dreamy sigh.

“Ah, yeah... The Madonna costume...” he says in a lovesick daze and Jinyoung rolls his eyes. Last year Ana went as Madonna for Halloween giving both Jackson and her mother a heart attack. Although it’s safe to say those reactions differed significantly.

Jaebum laughs but at least he’s glad for the distraction. He doesn’t have to answer Jinyoung’s question for now and he’s sure if Jinyoung knew Jaebum was actually searching for his dad like this, he’d be against it.

Jaebum’s dad left them when he was a kid. One day he was there and one day he wasn’t. No one knew where he went and Jaebum’s mother was inconsolable at first. Jaebum was barely 7 and his sister was barely 3. She didn’t remember him but Jaebum knew him long enough to miss him every day. And to wonder why.

“Anywho, what are you gonna wish for, Jinyoung?” Jackson asks as they keep walking deeper into the woods, the last lights of civilization far behind them as the air turns crisp and sharp.

Jinyoung shrugs before turning his head away as if embarrassed. “Nothing. I’m just here cause Jaebum asked us...” he admits and Jaebum finally turns to look at him. It’s not normal for Jinyoung to say such a thing. Normally he’d cringe, shoving anyone that even attempted a hug, not the type to admit to such feelings. Jaebum knows it’s a big deal so he smiles thankfully at his best friend.

Jackson whistles in mockery before playfully jabbing Jinyoung with his elbow. “Oh, is the ice king finally admitting he’s soft for his besties?” he says, well-intended and as Jinyoung shoves him away and tells him to piss off, he can’t help but smile as well.

The three of them have been best friends since diapers. Jaebum figures it’d be a cold day in hell if they ever got separated.

But as Jaebum ponders on that, his eyes catch what he’s been trying to locate on these woods. A barren willow tree.

His feet stop as a sudden stillness fills the air. The trees stand still, air no longer breezing in between the leaves, whatever woodland creatures that might have wandered around these parts long gone as the three friends stand beneath the tree.

It’s enormous, its branches spreading through the forest like veins, empty and dwindled, as the last few leaves fall to join the rest of their brothers on the ground. The silence unfurls, the only sound the sound of their breathing, as their chests heave with something. Something that makes the skin on their necks crawl and goosebumps to cover their hands.

Jaebum swallows the nerves crawling up his throat as he takes a step forward. His eyes, unwilling at first, follow down the trunk of the tree to see what lies beneath it. Just like the poem said.

But all he sees is a massive rock, empty and hollow on the inside as vines and moss cover the cold exterior.

His eyebrows furrow before diving back into the book. It’s supposed to be here.

Jinyoung lets out a shaky breath before shaking the feeling of uneasiness out of his head. “See, there’s nothing here. It’s just a hollow cave with barely enough space to fit a bear. We should go,” he comments carefully. But Jaebum ignores him in favour of the book. 

“It’s supposed to be here, why isn’t it here?” Jaebum says frantically, as Jinyoung and Jackson exchange a look. Jackson moves forward, carefully placing a hand on Jaebum’s shoulder. “We can try next year, dude...”

Jaebum huffs in confusion. He can’t spend another year wondering. He can’t.

“Come on, let’s get to the party...” Jinyoung adds on and Jaebum can’t find any more strength to fight back, so he turns his back on the cave.

Until a sound emerges from its depths.

Jaebum turns to look back immediately, eyes traveling inside the cave in search for whatever made that sound. The darkness inside of it doesn’t help him much. Instead, it’s humid, eerie and somewhat enchanting. As if calling him to dive in. As if drawing him into that pure black that seems to have no way out.

Jinyoung heard the sound too. “What in the hell was that?” his eyes are wide in fear as Jackson takes a step back.

“Man, this is totally not tubular...” Jackson exclaims, diving into his fanny pack to get out his own flashlight as well. Both him and Jaebum redirect the light to lighten the inside of the cave but it seems to not work. 

Then the sound reappears. But it’s more distinct. It’s high, yet soft and it sounds a lot like...

Meowing.

Wait. Meowing?

And just as Jaebum has that thought, a little black creature emerges from the cave, the culprit behind the sound and it stands before the three boys, staring at them curiously with it’s big, green eyes.

A cat.

Jinyoung sighs in relief and Jackson begins chuckling as soon as he sees the tiny animal staring at the three of them. “Jesus, man, I thought you were a bear or something...’

“Yeah, that’s what we all thought...” Jinyoung agrees quickly as Jaebum kneels down to look at the cat. For an animal living in the woods and having to fend for itself, it doesn’t look very wary of humans. The cat tilts its head as it looks back at Jaebum and he’s not crazy but he can swear the cat seems to look at him as if expecting him to talk.

So he does.

“We’re here for the witch...?” he begins confidently but the statement comes out more as a question as he realizes what he’s doing. He’s talking to a cat. He’s never gonna live this down.

But as he’s ready to get up and urge his friends to leave, the cat nods. It nods as if understanding Jaebum and then it nudges his hand. There’s a name tag around its neck but before Jaebum gets to read it the cat turns to look inside the cave. As if motioning for him to follow it.

Jaebum sucks in a breath. He was right. She was here. And as he stares more into the animal’s eyes he swears they glint with something else, something more aware.

Something more human.

“I’m dreaming. I’m definitely dreaming,” Jinyoung says with wide eyes as Jaebum waves at them to follow him. Jackson simply stares in awe as the inside of the cave illuminates by a warm, orange light. It reveals a much bigger space than before, the formation elongates into a corridor and as the three friends follow the cat inside the cave, they slowly notice the walls transforming. They grow tall, the humidity in the air dissipating as the vines and moss disappear from the walls and the rock turns to woods. The ground bellow them softly gives way for wood and floor and just as suddenly as they were in the cave, they’re now inside a small wooden cottage.

They turn to look behind them but the corridor has disappeared. There are only walls and a door behind them and the friends turn to look at each other in awe. 

The house they’re into is small. Wooden floors creak at their steps and the smell of incense and sage fills their nostrils. There’s a table in front of them, big and high like an examining table but it’s full with small trinkets, branches of several plants and every kind of things Jaebum would expect to see on that movie his mother keeps watching, The Witches of Eastwick.

There’s also a fireplace behind the table, small enough to fit a cauldron that’s currently bubbling with something inside. If Jaebum is honest, he doesn’t want to know what’s in it.

The cat meows again, drawing the three boys’ attention to it. It sits on its rear legs next to the only armchair of the house, staring at them in wait. Jaebum can’t figure out what the cat is waiting from them, but for some reason, he can’t shake the feeling that the feline wants to tell him something. But cats can’t talk.

“Oh, I see my darling cat brought in some visitors!” comes a wrinkly but soft voice hiding in the shadows and at once all three of them turn towards the sound of the voice. They see an old woman walk forward. She’s small in size, Jaebum thinks, almost like a child, a shawl is spread around her shoulders like a blanket and her white hair graces her head like a cotton cloud. She seems to be limping, carefully walking forward with a cane in one hand as the other hides beneath her clothes. 

Jaebum thinks she doesn’t look at all like a witch. At least not like what he imagined a witch would look like. She looks like someone’s grandma.

She smiles at the three men before a cracking sound comes from her bones. “Oh, would anyone of you boys be a dear and help an old woman to her armchair?” she calls calmly. Sweetly as if talking to her grandson and Jackson is immediately moving.

“Yes, ma’am, of course...” he replies, lending her his hand to support herself and she smiles thankfully at him.

“Oh my, what a young gentleman you are...” she keens as Jackson safely helps her to her armchair and as she sits down, Jaebum observes as the cat slowly walks away to stand in front of the warmth of the fireplace.

The woman, seeing Jaebum wondering stare rushes to explain. “She never was a particularly loving cat that one. I’m just happy she’s safe and warm here...” she comments gently, waving her hand dismissively in the air. At once a cup of liquid appears in the air and the woman reaches her hand a bit forward to catch it. The three boys look at her in astonishment, not quite sure if what they’ve witnessed is real but none seems to know what to say.

The woman (or, Jaebum thinks, the witch) notices their stares just as she takes a sip. “Oh, I’m awfully sorry, do you want some tea as well?” she asks with a welcoming smile and that seems to wake everyone up. 

“Uhm, no, madam, thank you,” Jinyoung replies before he gulps, still too awed to say anything else. He’s still trying to process everything.

The woman shrugs before taking another sip. “Sit,” she says, almost commanding and suddenly all three of them found themselves being seated on three wooden chairs. “I assume you three fine young gentlemen are here for the wishes?” she asks ingeniously, looking at the friends from above her tea. The steam of the beverage rises above the cup, towards her hair, giving her an otherworldly aura as if her white hair keeps moving along with the wind.

“How do you know that madam?” Jaebum questions suspiciously but the woman only chuckles at his naivety. 

“Oh, please, why else would you be here?” she observes cleverly and Jaebum swallows his words because, well, she’s right.

He doesn’t know what else to say though. This is something he’s been thinking for the past few months, finding the witch and using the wish to find out about his father. But now the words won’t come out. They get stuck in his throat, suddenly this all expedition feels wrong and he can’t shake the feeling of uneasiness prickling at his bones.

“So which one of you will go first?” the woman asks sweetly.

When none of them answers, Jackson decides to speak up. “I guess that’s me,” he chuckles before dragging his chair forward to get closer to the woman. “There’s this girl from my high school and I was wondering...”

But Jaebum misses the rest of the conversation when he feels something against his leg. He looks down curiously to see the cat rubbing softly against his leg. Once again her eyes meet his and he’s certain that those aren’t just normal cat eyes. There’s something off about that cat, something telling him it isn’t just a simple cat. 

Then with a graceful jump, she ends up on his lap, paws pressing against his legs as if preparing her bed. Then she curls upon him, her big, green eyes staring back at him, through him and he can’t tell if he’s losing his mind or not but it seems like the cat is trying to tell him something.

The woman’s shrill chuckle shakes Jaebum out of his thoughts as he finds the woman staring at the cat on his lap with an indecipherable look in her eyes. 

“Seems she likes you...” she comments mysteriously, eyes boring holes through the cat that shifts uncomfortably on Jaebum’s legs. Jaebum senses an air of animosity towards the animal and when his eyes find the woman’s, he’s sure it’s not just his imagination.

“Seems like it, yeah,” he responds with a steady voice and a level gaze at the witch. She seems to be taken aback at his reply but she’s quick to replace her shocked expression with a calm, saccharine one.

Then she returns her attention back to Jackson’s wish and the cat seems to relax once more. Jaebum’s gaze falls to the animal on his lap once more, and once again she looks back. He can’t shake the feeling that...

That her eyes are human.

The cat nudges her head against his palm as if wanting to be petted and Jaebum would have done exactly that if he didn’t take notice of the name tag on the cat’s neck. His fingers reach for the metallic pendant, eyes wary, for some reason not wanting the witch to realise what he’s doing. But she seems too engrossed in Jackson’s story as he drags it out. 

So with a bated breath, Jaebum turns around the pendant. 

Y/N, it reads.

Confusion engulfs him. Where has he seen that name before?

After a few seconds, it hits him. 

It’s the name of the girl that disappeared all these years ago.

His eyes widen and he gasps.

The sound gathers the witch’s attention on him again. “What’s wrong, dear?” she asks carefully but Jaebum can see the calculating glint in her eyes. The cat meows softly on his lap, in a warning.

���I, uh, nothing, nothing, I just...” he gulps, struggling to find something to appease the witch without raising her suspicions. “Ah, the cat, she accidentally scratched me...” he responds swiftly, hoping that’ll be enough.

The witch looks at him suspiciously but doesn’t say anything else on the matter. “And you?”

Jaebum’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

The witch smiles. “What’s your wish?”

Jaebum freezes. He knows what his wish is. He knows what he came here for and yet his eyes fall back into the cat. Or rather, you. The girl that disappeared all those years ago at the age of 18, at his age and suddenly none of it feels right. 

He doesn’t know what to wish for.

“I, uhm...” he begins unsure, but then his eyes rest on the space above the fireplace. Where a brown, leather book stands and immediately he remembers a passage from the book currently hiding in his bag.

There’s a book rumoured to exist. A book that contains numerous spells the witch uses but also the spell to rid the witch of her powers so she can no longer hurt anyone. A book bound in leather and spells, containing such evil and darkness within but also the salvation for anyone under the witch’s influence. The book’s never been found.

Jaebum bets his walkman that’s said book.

He quickly returns his stare at the cat, for if he wants to be successful he must show no sign of interest in the book.

“I want the cat,” he finally replies, raising his proud stare to look at the witch. Jackson and Jinyoung look at Jaebum as if he’s gone mad and yet the witch’s expression hasn’t changed. She stares stoically at Jaebum, face not at all revealing any of her thoughts and yet there’s a storm brewing in her grey eyes that glint almost silver.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she finally replies. But her voice is different. It’s low, grave and threatening almost like a growl and Jaebum can feel prickles of fear on his skin.

Yet he perseveres.

“Why not?” he raises his chin up defiantly and he can see the old woman fuming. Good, that means it’s working.

“Because!” she yells suddenly, losing her composure for a second. But then she schools her face back into that sweet expression, that one that now seems to Jaebum sickeningly sweet.

“Because she’s my only companion here. It can be very, very lonely being alone in the woods. I’m sure you wouldn’t wish that for anyone, now would you?” she stares intensely at him and Jaebum can understand that it’s a threat.

So he sighs heavily as if he’s disappointed. “I guess you’re right madam. But I really liked this one...” he complains, waiting for the witch’s reaction.

The woman sighs. “I can’t give you the cat, but I can give you anything else you ask for...” she makes a promise, hoping the promise of something grander will draw him away from the cat but what she doesn’t know is that Jaebum wants exactly that.

“Anything...?” he asks innocently and once it seems like he got the bait the witch smiles victoriously. 

“Anything! A witch’s promise is a deal! I will give you anything you ask of me, this I swear!” she proclaims and at once a slight breeze flies through the room even if all the windows and doors are sealed. It’s her magic, taking effect once her promise was out in the wind and now she really has to do anything he asks of her.

And that’s exactly what he wants.

He points to the book. “I want that.”

Once her gaze falls to the item, her face pales. The once sweet smile is wiped off her face, instead a scowl appearing in its place. Her hair begins moving once again as if enchanted and she stands up from her armchair, not needing anyone’s help anymore. 

The three boys look at her in horror as her figure elongates and her skin darkens, bones and limbs growing longer and slimmer, resembling branches of a tree. Her fingernails grow, darkening as her fingers crack and turn in weird angles and her feet drag across the floor, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. Her shawl falls off to the floor forgotten, and the white in her eyes disappears completely, now being an electric silver as if seeing lightning. Her face pulls down as if someone is dragging the skin down but her movements don’t stop.

The boys hiss, covering their ears as the cat begins yowling at the witch, ears drown back as her back hunches in alarm but the witch pays them no mind. Her long, bony fingers wrap around the book and she slowly turns around towards Jaebum. Then she moves again forwards as if she’s floating on the air and with heavy movements, she passes Jaebum the book.

Jaebum watches the exchange in alarm, a wicked grin covering the witch’s face from ear to ear, abnormally stretched and revealing the insides of her rotten mouth. 

“I’m only giving this to you boy because I have to. You can use it for only one spell and if I find out that you tried to steal it from me, or use it to harm me and my way of living, there won’t be any of you left to tell the story...” her voice is low and deadly, like a whisper as it makes the fine hair on Jaebum arms rise. He swallows nervously, accepting the book with a nod of his head. 

“Thank you, madam, I promise I’ll return the book as soon as I use my spell, this I promise!” he repeats the incantation the witch have said before, not because it will take effect, after all, there’s no magic in him, but because he hopes it shows a level of respect towards the witch in front of him.

The witch looks at him for a second, still looming over him in all her wickedness and then she’s back to how she was before; a charming old lady needing some company.

The three boys blink in surprise at the sudden transition but before they get to say anything else, the air around them feels like it’s shrinking and them with it. Like someone is sucking away the contents of the room at the other end, from where they came from. The cat jumps off him, staring at him one last time as Jaebum feels something pulling him backwards and the last thing they see before being dropped out of the cave is the witch’s evil smile.

Suddenly the three of them are outside in the woods again, in front of the cave that now seems normal once more. Jaebum shakes off the leaves from him before he opens up the book and begins searching frantically.

“Jaebum what in the world are you doing?!” Jinyoung yells once he’s up again, approaching him with enraged steps as Jaebum reads quickly page after page.

Jackson is quick to agree with Jinyoung. “Yeah, man what the hell was that? Did you really want a cat from the witch? We could get you one from the mall!”

“Can you just stop talking for a second, I need to find the spell...” he mumbles, irritated by his friends’ interference but they don’t seem too keen on listening to him.

“No, we can’t until you explain to us what in the fudge was that!” Jinyoung insists, voice strict and commanding and Jaebum takes a breath.

“The cat was not a cat, she’s a girl that disappeared when the witch was still alive and this book contains the spell that strips the witch of her magic and I have to find it before she realizes what I’m about to do!” Jaebum grits through his teeth as he turns page after page, searching for the correct spell.

Jinyoung’s left staring at him speechless and at least he’s not bothering anymore as he searches for the spell.

Jackson is the first to react. “Wait, Jaebum, are you sure? How could you tell, I mean, come on, that cat couldn’t be a human-”

“Yeah and at the beginning of this trip you didn’t believe we’d find the witch but look at us now,” he replies swiftly as his eyes run down the pages until-.

He found it.

I seek to rid someone of power I seek to find the truth behind I seek to burn the evil cower The undeserving to unbind

And he begins chanting it out loud. From what he knows he must certainly recount it at least three times before it takes effect.

Jinyoung and Jackson stare at him in shock, not quite sure what to do but as Jaebum begins chanting for the third time, the cave starts to shake.

He stops only for a second before he begins chanting again. A wind picks up between the trees, howling and whistling in anger as the branches dive down to search for the one recounting the spell. But Jaebum doesn’t deter, he chants louder and louder, the wind now almost taking the book out of his hands but he knows the spell by heart by now.

He chants and chants and the cave doesn’t stop shaking and then a shrill screams echoes through its depths, sharp and horrifying and blood curdling before a black shadow comes rushing through from inside the cave. The scream gets louder as the shadow approaches and once it’s out it dissipates with a loud bang, finally disappearing through the air and the scream fades away. 

The cave stops shaking and the wind stops.

And then as Jaebum stares at his hands the book turns to dust and disappears as well.

His two friends are left staring at him in shock. They don’t know what to do or say and honestly Jaebum doesn’t either.

But then a cough sounds from inside the cave. A female one.

Jaebum turns his head towards the hollow only to see a young girl, you, walking out. You cough into your hand as the smoke around you dissipates, your long hair unruly and messy, dressed in a white blouse, a black-laced vest and a brown peasant skirt.

You are the girl that disappeared hundreds of years ago and yet you’re still alive.

Jaebum is frozen in his spot, staring at you and too afraid to move. For some reason, fearing that if he’d move you’d disappear.

Only when you stumble on a tree root, he jolts back to awareness and rushes to help you.

He grabs you by the arm to stabilize you as you seem to not have found your footing just yet.

“Are you okay?” he asks quickly, not knowing you one bit but wanting to make sure you’re alright.

You turn to look at him and once your eyes meet, he knows it was you. That it wasn’t all just in his head.

You nod your head, tears prickling at your eyes from the smoke. “Yes, I think I am...” comes out your rough voice, probably from not speaking for 300 years. Then you turn to look at Jinyoung and Jackson, admittedly a bit bewildered by their clothing but you’re well aware that it’s been hundreds of years since your time and things were bound to change.

You swallow nervously, your throat closing up. “Thank you...” you say softly, “for saving me...” you add as you turn to look at the man holding you up. Truth is he’s quite handsome, sending a reddening blush to your cheeks but you chastise yourself. You shouldn’t feel that way for a strange man. Maybe he’s betrothed and that would be improper.

Jaebum swallows the nervousness that arises in him when he meets your eyes. “No problem... Y/N, right?” he asks just to make sure.

You nod at him as you softly remove your hand from his, now that you feel like you can walk again. “And you are?”

Jaebum face falls just a bit but he’s quick to hide it. “I’m Jaebum, and this is Jinyoung and Jackson,” he responds instead, pointing at his friends.

You turn around to greet them when the one called Jinyoung steps in front of you with wide eyes. You gasp, taking you by surprise and you take a step back, suddenly too overwhelmed with the man’s proximity.

“Are you really the girl that disappeared?” he asks in wonderment and you realize that he doesn’t seem hostile. Only curious.

“Yes. I realized that around the time the witch started granting people’s wishes, a lot of women from my village started losing their unborn children. Once I realized it was the witch’s fault, she turned me into a cat and I could never leave her sight,” you reply softly, eyes downcast as you barely remember pieces of your previous life.

“Until we came along...” says the other boy named Jackson with a boyish grin in an attempt to cheer you up and, indeed, it draws a smile on your lips as you agree with him.

The other boy, Jaebum, coughs into his hands and you turn to look at him curiously. “So, uhm... Do you have a place to stay?” he says but he quickly slaps himself in the forehead.

Of course she doesn’t you airhead!

Your eyes widen with the realization, that no, you do not. How are you supposed to survive in a place that you don’t know anyone and in a time that’s not your own?

“You can stay with one of us! I’m sure our parents won’t mind!” Jackson rushes to say, a helpful smile on his lips and you look at him bewildered.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that of you, you already did so much...” you reply, feeling overwhelmed by their offer.

“It’s no problem, really! And we can teach you all you need to know about this time so you’ll adjust!” Jinyoung adds on and the truth is it doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Of course we understand if you feel uncomfortable with that...” Jaebum is quick to say, obviously the only one that realized you might be wary of the idea because they’re all men.

The other two guys exclaim in realization as they agree. 

“Well, in that case, I think you’d be better off living with Jaebum. He has a little sister and his mother would probably beat up anyone that tried to hurt you...”Jinyoung chuckles at his joke but Jaebum only seems to fluster with the attention.

“It’s true...” he admits nervously, “My mother is kind of a tough cookie...”

But when he sees your face of confusion he rushes to explain. “It means she’s strong. And she always takes care of us,” he admits out loud and seeing your eyes twinkle in wonderment he realizes it was the right thing to say.

You ponder on it for a second before you turn to them again. Ready for your answer.

“It would be lovely if I could stay for a few nights until I get my bearings. If your mother agrees of course...” you conclude with a shy smile and Jaebum feels himself smile as well.

“I’m sure she won’t mind,” he replies, for once certain he made the right choice.

[beyoncesdragon]

title: tongue tip trip

➳ pairing: harry styles x reader, best friends to lovers trope but a bit different. 

➳ summary: Harry eats edibles and you come to the rescue...despite almost four months of no talking and zero communication. 

➳ warnings: Harry eats edibles, swearing and some fluff, it’s also fan fiction so its ✨unrealistic✨ okay, also its 1AM I wanna sleep 

➳ a/n: I love this one tbh. but please don’t do drugs children 

Jeff hardly ever called you. Even when Harry and you had still be close, him calling you was a rarity. But when he then did, you couldn't help but feel a bit worried at the sign of his user ID flashing up on your phone. This time was no exception, but besides worry there was also surprise and a whole bunch of uncomfortable memories and unsaid words. You hadn't heard from him (or Harry) in weeks. Sure, Jeff and you still sometimes texted a bit, you also were still in good contact with Claire and especially Mitch and you still got along. Harry and you...well, that was a different and longer story.

Harry and you used to be very close friends. Means, helping him what socks to choose before performing-close friends. You had met a year in Harry going solo, you a simple assistant engineer and him the highly praised Popstar. The two of you had quickly bonded over a few glasses of chilled white wine in the humid air of Jamaica and soon your friendship blossomed in the most beautiful ways. Well it did until you, obviously, started to feel a bit more for the singer. Now, that alone wasn't a problem itself, the fact that Harry knew (you had told him after a few weeks of awkward suffering) wasn't either. The problem was that Harry acted like a dick to anyone you brought around, up to the point where you seemingly couldn't ever date again. Of course Harry wasn't a straight up asshole to them, he still had a reputation to maintain, but he knew how to get under their skin. Just toying with their self-confidence and subtly making them feel like the biggest losers. Oh and, the absolute worst part, all whilst having a girlfriend himself. Which eliminated the possibility of him having feeling for you as a reason why he acted like a jerk. And that angered you more and more and it all escalated in a big, nasty and hurtful fight, around four - five months ago. Since then you hadn't talked, texted or seen each other.

It had been a big change of habit not to get up and first check the phone for messages of him, or simply FaceTime him to check up on his schedule. No spending time at cafes or at the studios with him and the rest of the team. Lucky thing you had other jobs running, on other albums and in other studios around Malibu than his.

He was currently recording music at the Shangri-La studios in Malibu, maybe ten minutes from your flat by car. Which had been described as a "lucky and obviously unplanned extra" by Harry himself, followed by a cheeky grin. You had just rolled your eyes, but secretly happy that he had cared about you being near during his writing process. But now it only left a sour aftertaste in your mouth.

With a sigh you pulled the key out of the ignition and picked up the phone. You figured you could also wait in the parking lot for a few more minutes.

"Hello?"

"Sweetheart? Jeff's here..." you hummed softly, leaning back. 

"Hello there Jeff. Everything alright?" you could hear him cough slightly, before he answered with a weird lilt to his tone. He sounded somewhat stressed out. "Yeah, everything's fine...how have you been?" you shrugged lightly, inspecting your nails. 

"Fine. Working and stuff. I guess same for you?" he was quick to agree, again with that weird cough. 

"Everything okay Jeff? Something happened?" you finally asked, tired of his obvious tip toeing around the real issue. He knew that you weren't so stupid to believe that Jeff had just called you to check up on you at five in the afternoon.

"Well not...quite. I - uh...it's because of Harry. Now, listen, I know the two of you did not part in like, the best ways but..." you couldn't help but close your eyes with a slight wince, "...but you've got to believe me, it's an emergency, kinda." You just sighed. 

"Kinda?" he hummed, saying nothing for a few seconds. "Do I need to talk to him?" you asked into the silence. Jeff was quick to say no however. "Uh...rather not, actually." You blinked surprised. 

"Rather not? Is he drunk?" not that this would be a first, Harry being drunk caller by nature. If he was lucky he then would find himself calling someone like Paul, his old bodyguard, few months ago maybe you, just not one of his exes or someone else you probably shouldn't call anyways – especially not drunk. But this time it didn't seemed to be like that, since Jeff answered hesitantly. "Not exactly, no." your frown deepened at his words, feeling slight annoyance creeping up. "Jeffrey! What's the matter? Is he hurt? In an accident? Called his ex? Called Zayn? What is it? Just tell me already!"

Jeff sighed deeply. "He's high." A relieved huff left your lips. That wasn't half as bad, wasn't it? "That's it? Little weed hurts no body, besides I would've been more concerned if he would've drank. Besides, he almost never does weed..." Jeff interrupted you quickly. "Not exactly weed sweetheart. You remember the uh, edibles I told you about, the ones we stored in the fridge..." A deep groan escaped your lips.

"Are you kidding me?" you groaned, shaking your head. "Well no. However, he accidentally bit of his tongue tip, few minutes ago." Your hand dropped from the steering wheel and smashed down and you accidentally honked, immediately getting confused and outraged looks from the cars passing by.

"He did WHAT?" you meant to hear a smile in Jeff's voice, underneath all the layers of just mild concern. "Yeah's a little unfortunate." you just huffed. A little unfortunate, if that's what they decided to call it, then fine. Nonetheless, Harry should probably visit a doctor. "Can he still sing?" you asked, somewhat defeated. The noise behind Jeff increased, you assumed that he was entering the studio again. "Hold on a sec...can you hear him?" And oh how you could hear him.

He was singing, no yelling on top of his voice, trying to outmatch the speakers that were thumping Paul McCartney's "Too Many People", though unmistakably mumbling a little. Just the sound of his voice made your heart clench in pain a little.

"Yeah I can." You mumbled, wishing for Jeff to talk over Harry's voice again. "So his career isn't in danger right? Means I can just..." Jeff sighed deeply, pleadingly. 

"Y/N, please...he needs medical care." You pouted displeased, spinning the car keys in your fingers. "And you cant drive him because...?" this time he definitely laughed. "What do you think? Harry being the only one on drugs?" you shrugged. "You don't sound like you would bite your tongue off..." he just huffed. "That's because I only had a glass of white wine, but never drink and drive..." you let out a loud laugh, starting your car. "Oh sure! And don't mix drugs with alcohol, right?" he chuckled softly. "Course not. We're that responsible, you know." you just hummed unconvinced, sighing again.

"Okay fine. I'll pick him up." Jeff released a long breath before thanking you warmly. "Thank you so much, angel...how long will you take, you think?" your eyes darted from the rear-view mirror to the road behind the parking lot, before you shifted the reverse gear again to leave the parking.

"About 10 minutes? Maybe?" you guessed, eyeing the traffic suspiciously. It wasn't rush-hour just yet, but there were still plenty of cars on the road. "Okay...oh hi Harry." You immediately tensed up, swallowing hard when you heard Harrys deep voice again.

"Who y'takin to?" Harry spoke as if he had a full mouth, trying not spit out its content. "Oh just...Y/N." Jeff answered truthfully. Harry then said something you couldn't quite understand before Jeff ushered him to go away again with the words; "She'll come in a few minutes anyways." It made you swallow heavily; had Harry asked to talk to you? You stopped the thoughts and focused on the road again. "I'll see you in five." And with that you hung up.

❦

Harry and Jeff were already waiting in front of the studio when you pulled up, Harry having a bloody cloth pressed to his mouth. They looked like father and son, right off the principal's office for starting a fight on campus. It almost made you laugh. Then your eyes met and the amusement left your body as quickly as it came. You were not ready to face him again, even after all those months.

"Thank you so much Y/N, I owe you...you good H?" Jeff asked as he opened the passenger door. "Yeh, m'fine, fanks." Harry mumbled, eyes darting up to meet yours, just to look away immediately. "We'll be back soon." You sighed, not yet ready to properly greet Harry. Or look at him, for starters. To be fair, he wasn't doing any better. "Sure. I hope he doesn't bleed on your seats." Jeff joked, well aware of the weird tension. You just shrugged, waving him goodbye. "See you in a few Jeff." Or not, but you didn't know that yet.

The ride was almost completely silent expect for the time where you asked if he was okay and he mumbled a "yeh". The radio was filling the silence and you were glad for it. The songs weren't that good at the moment, you just wanted something to be loud and talking, even if it was just the obnoxious radio host who kept cutting off the songs. That was until "Change" by RM and Wale started to play and you perked up immediately. A happy smile crept on your face as you recognised the tune. You yourself had helped with the song and you proudly acknowledged the credit they gave you. You hadn't expected it to be played over here in America, but you were happy it was. Harry had obviously noticed your change of behaviour and carefully peaked over.

"Y'know tha'shong?" you nodded, momentarily forgetting that Harry and you hadn't interacted the last ten minutes. "Helped write it. With Namjoon, aka. RM and Wale." Harry nodded slowly. "Ish Namjhoon f'om...?" he tried and you nodded. "BTS? Yeah." He just nodded again. The next second Wale already mentioned BTS in his verse and Harry huffed. "Oh."

"I've sheen - seen the pictures of you n'him." you quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah? Well, he was nice." Harry nodded again, another stolen glance into your direction. "Lishten..." he started but you cut him off. You already knew what he was about to say anyways.

"Let's not have this conversation now Harry. Please. Let's talk when there isn't blood gushing from your mouth." He nodded, but his shoulders relaxed a little bit. After all, he was glad you were up to talk, even if it wasn't just right now, but a bit later on. He had time anyways. He peaked over again, taking in the sight of you. Your hair was now longer than last time and your face somehow sharper – maybe you had lost weight. Also, there was a soft frown etched in between your brows, and there wasn't this soft glow you've always carried in your eyes. Long story short: You looked worn out and stressed, and Harry couldn't really tell if it was because you were sat in the same car as he was, or if it had to do with something else that was going on.

"How're ya?" it slowly got painful to speak, the edible was definitely wearing off now, but Harry still tried. He had missed your voice after all, it didn't matter how cold your tone had become. Just at the mentioning of that Namjoon you had sounded more like the Y/N he knew.

"I've been okay. Had lots of work...different countries and continents. S'been a busy few months." You felt unsure as how to talk to him, of you were fully honest. Should you say that you had absolutely hated working in Malibu since the fight? Should you say that you hadn't slept properly because you hated having fights with friends? Especially close friends? He probably knew anyways. Harry always knew somehow.

"I wont ask you about yourself until your tongue is patched up again, though. So you better shut up Styles." He chuckled softly, and the hint of the old Harry and Y/N relationship seemed to spark up again. The last five or so minutes were spent in silence again, but comfortable this time.

❦

Luckily Harry did not go recognised by anyone else than the Doctor. And the doctor probably only realised fully, because she asked for the name. Harry, still not fully functionable, had then looked over to you, expecting you to do the talking. Which made sense, of course, but truth behold, he had just forgotten his middle and last name. And the address of the place he was staying at (the studios) was completely wiped from his memory. He was lucky you were with him. It also turned out that he had completely bit off a few millimetres of tongue, a clean bite. You had almost gaged at those words and Harry had supressed a grin. It meant that Harry needed no stitches (apparently it was sort of possible to stitch a tongue back together), but daily check-ups and cleaning or cleansing of the mouth was mandatory.

"Check the injurie daily for changes in appearance or feel. Wounds in the mouth that are clean and healthy may appear light pink to white." She had started to almost exclusively talk to you, aware of Harry's partly delirious state, giving you all the information you needed to patch him up a bit. You nodded slowly.

"Alright. Just...how do you cleanse the mouth?" The Doctor gave you a kind smile. "Very easy. Rinse the mouth with a saltwater solution after eating to ease pain and keep the wound clean. That is very important, so the wound doesn't infect. The saltwater solution is just one teaspoon of non-iodized salt mixed in one cup of warm water." You nodded slowly. "One last thing: if the colour of the wound changes, starts bleeding again, swells up or you notice a visible deformity, immediately come back. Also, if the pain intensifies and does not improve within two hours of taking over-the-counter pain medication, such as ibuprofen or acetaminophen, have somebody call us, or better come around. That is all we can do right now."

You were almost happy when you could leave the hospital with him, especially because Harry now grew tired and needy. You weren't sure if the disappearing edible had that effect or if you had just forgotten how clingy Harry could get, but you had troubles getting him to let go of your arm and sit into the car. And your deeply hidden and buried feelings for him slowly made an unwanted comeback, and you were not quite excited for that. You should've known that they would come again, after all, you never really got over him in the first place.

Harry insisted on you staying the night. He blabbed something about risk of getting kidnapped and abused at night alone (not entirely wrong, sadly) and him not letting his friend leave at hours that late and also he apparently needed you if something happened again. He just wouldn't admit that he couldn't let you walk out the door because he feared you wouldn't come back. as if you could just do that after today. But whatever it was, you did stay. In one of the three bedrooms of the Studio you had claimed a bed, and even got some spare clothes for sleep from Claire herself. You had called her, asking for them, as they had all already left.

Just when you thought you were done for the day, teeth brushed and dressed in Claires 1975 shirt size XL, you hear a knock on your door. "Come in?" You knew it was Harry, that wasn't the part that surprised you. the part that surprised you, was that it was Harry with a tray and on that tray were cups and kettle and it smelled like camomile tea and honey. And cookies, with chocolate chips even and some grapes.

"Hi." He just whispered, embarrassment written all over his face. "Hi?" you weren't sure how to react to this but quickly patted on the bed next to you. "Wanna sit down? Or wait, sHit down, as you would say it." He giggled softly, before he nodded and carefully sat down opposite of you, balancing the tray carefully between the two of you.

"I figured it would be better to talk now in peace? If you're up to, f'course." You couldn't help the small smile that crept onto your face. "Shure." You mocked his lisp and he huffed at that, swatting his hand into your direction. "Shtop it really hurt." You just rolled your eyes at him, motioning towards the tray between the two of you. "That's very cute by the way. I love camomile tea with honey." He grinned smugly. "I know." The tea steamed softly when he poured it into the cups, his brows furrowed in concentration to not spill it on the sheets. You watched him with a fond look in your eyes. You hadn't been fully aware of how much you had really missed him in all these months. Right now it felt like the feeling was overwhelming and would crush you out of a sudden.

"Everything a'ight?" Harry's concerned voice ripped you from your thoughts and you blinked quickly. Your eyes had started to water and you looked away embarrassed. "Yeah...guess I just missed you." his eyes immediately went soft, and he set the cups down on the tray. 

"I missed ye too." He said, sounding a bit helpless. You cleared your throat, shaking your head quickly. 

"Okay so what happened that day; Harry I want to sincerely apologise. What I said went too far." He just smiled softly. "I should've went first. S'my fault after all, let's not beat around the bushes. I am sh-sorry. I shouldn't've said all those things, it was truly horrible. You're not clingy, you don't ever bothered me and also, the men you brought around weren't all dicks. And yes I did ruin it purposely." He couldn't even look at you anymore, shame so obvious in his face and voice and body language. "It's fine...I could've dated anyone anyways that time." You tried softly, swallowing down the "Still can't, believe me, I tried." He just shook his head. "No, really Y/N, that was extremely hurtful and inappropriate and I was the biggest...dick to do all that. I am so sorry. You had all right on earth to walk out like that. and to call me a heartless, self-absorbed douche, I guess I deserved that...that and all the other things you called me." that did make you laugh a bit.

"Arrogant son of a bitch? That one?" he grinned softly. "Exactly that one. I uh, used that, by the way. In a song, I hope you don't mind." Your eyebrows shot up at that. "You called yourself an arrogant son of a bitch?" He nodded sheepishly. "An arrogant shon of a bitch who can't admit that he is shorry, and I quoted that." you laughed now, loudly. "Bit harsh, innit?" he shrugged, coquettishly raising the tea cup to his lips. "Heard it from shomewhere." You just hummed softly, lifting your cup as well.

A deep sigh rose your chest as you looked at him again, that bright flicker in his eyes again, that lopsided smirk he wore so well. You knew that your crush was back on fully, but right now you didn't even minded it. Harry gave you a small smile, the mischief slowly draining from his green eyes. he seemed to catch on to that shift of your emotions and carefully placed his cup down on the tray, before then carefully placing the tray on the floor and opening his arms. 

"C'mere?" you did, immediately.

And for the first time in months you could fully relax. Surrounded by Harry's scent in Harry's arm and listening to Harry's heartbeat. Completely absorbed and surrounded by everything you loved. "Sorry." You mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, feeling how his arms tightened around you. "Me too. I fucking misshed you." you chuckled softly. "Misshed you too, shon of a bitch." His laughter sent vibrations through your body.

"About that Korean dude..." Harry suddenly asked, making your peak up to him. "Namjoon? What about him?" he cleared his throat. "Just...did you like, date or something?" you grinned softly. 

"Pretty sure he had something going on with a girl the time I was over there. Maybe he still has. Why? You wanna scare him off again?" he just laughed. "I don't do that anymore. I was just...curious you know. You've always had a thing for these Korean men." You grinned softly.

"Are you now talking Stray Kids or Bangtan or EXO or GOT7..." Harry groaned, "so what. You got something to say about that?" he shook his head. "Course not." You hummed. "And what do you mean, I don't do that anymore? Why did you even do it, like in the first place?" Harry sighed very deeply at that.

"I guess because...okay, promise you listen to the end and don't get upset with me too much, yeah?" you frowned, a bit mentally preparing yourself for whatever was about to follow. 

"Okay? Promised."

"Alright, now...I think I couldn't just...let you be and date who you want because I am a very selfish person? I know I know, you probably think: but selfish about what and I can only confess...probably you? No, not probably, I am sure." The words were bubbling out of him as if someone flipped a switch and now he couldn't stop anymore. "I couldn't see you date someone else and...give them all of your attention. And I know, I myself was in a relationship during that time, I know, but I just...I can't describe it." Your eyes grew wider and wider with every hasty rambled sentence and your lips were slightly parted. "It was as if was...jealous, which is weird because I wasn't into you then, no offense please, I mean I had a girlfriend..." 

"Hold on, what do you mean, wasn't into you then?" you cut him off and Harry literally froze. His eyes went wide with realisation and his mouth opened, as if he would try to reply something; but there was no sound. All he could think of, was one word, all in capital letters and blinking red: fuck.

"I uh, did I say then?" you clicked with your tongue, an amused grin flitting over your face. 

"You did." A blush now covered his cheeks and he cleared his throat eagerly. You moved away from his embrace to get a better look at the man sitting in front of you. 

"You did say then. Something changed?" your tone was joking but hidden beneath the layers of sarcasm there was a flicker of something else...hope.

"I...I mean I don't...would it be like...do you still feel the same?" you didn't immediately answered, trying to process what you were hearing. After weeks of pinning and then months of not talking at all, he was confessing – or somewhat confessing – that there was a chance that he now actually liked you back? How was that even possible?

Harry however read your silence as something else than confusion and being overwhelmed with the situation. His face fell from nervous to disappointed and hurt, though he tried to mask those emotions quickly. "Which is of course fine and like, obviously you don't, I mean..." he spoke, and it wasn't entirely clear if he was talking to you or himself.

"I didn't even answer H." you mumbled, tilting your head. "Of course you di- wait what do you mean?" there was this same spark of hope in his voice as there had been in your voice. "If I told you, that nothing changed, what would that mean?" you breathed after a second of hesitation and staring into his wide eyes, filled with fear, nervousness, hope and...vulnerability. At your words there was a small smile that started to tug on his lips, like a light igniting his eyes. 

"It would mean that I...uhm, I would then shoot my shot?" you couldn't help it.

"Was that hard to say?" he blinked confused. "Shoot your shot..." you teased and he groaned loudly. "Oh hush, you are unbearable." You giggled, winking obnoxiously. "You decided to eat those edibles. Also, I am worth a shot, no?" he huffed, leaping forwards to pull you back into his arms. "Oh definitely..." you grinned up at him before your breath hitched in your throat at the realisation of his sudden closeness. Eyes flickering to his lips you just waited. But when he leaned in you cleared you throat softly, making him halt. "Before you do that...just please tell me why now." He never moved back just pressed his lips together for a second, thinking of the right choice of words. "In those month where we didn't talk, I had a lot, and I mean a lot of time to think and reflect about the whole situation. About you, about how I felt about you and your partners, how your confession had changed the way I saw or felt certain things...also, Jeff's talked a lot with me about it. The fight and stuff. And then when I saw you again I just...knew? I don't know..." you cut him off with a short nod. 

"Okay that's good, now kiss me please." He just laughed before finally, finally closing the gap between the two of you.

And your lips on his made him feel better, lighter and higher than any fucking edible could've ever made him feel.

here are flowers for u, if u rly read this ily 💐💐💐

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[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 46)

Description: The captive Catalysts struggle to keep it together. Tahira fights a battle of her own. Meanwhile, Zahra receives a break in the case.

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @tigerbryn11

Jake

I don't know exactly what to expect after I feel the wheels touch down and the plane slows to a halt. I guess I'm not surprised when the armored goons who stomp into the bathroom gag us and shove our heads into dark flannel pillowcases before dragging us upright. Makes sense that they don't want us to know where we are—or call out to anyone who might be passing. But that doesn't mean I'm not keeping alert. The landing was rough. Rougher than I would have expected on a sky-worthy private jet. The angle we landed at was steeper than expected, too.  

The staircase getting us down is narrow. So narrow that my armored escorts have to move into file ahead and behind me, and I can feel the handrails on either side if I just lean one way or the other a couple inches. The goon ahead of me must be taking the steps backward, because there's something sharp pressed to the soft flesh just under my sternum, just hard enough for me to feel its point. There's also what's unmistakeably the barrel of a pistol at the nape of my neck. They don't say anything. They don't have to. The warning is clear: don't try any shit.

After the bottom step, I set my food down on a surface that doesn't feel like tarmac or asphalt. It's soft. Dirt. Or grass. Explains the steep-angled landing—and it tells me that the plane transporting us has to be smaller than I was originally imagining. The air on my exposed skin is warm. Humid. Unfortunately, I can't notice any distinct smell to it. There's not much penetrating whatever fruit-scented detergent this pillowcase was washed in before my head was jammed into it. ...Which is either coincidence, and whatever pillowcases they grabbed before starting just happened to come straight from the wash...or there's actually a distinctive smell to this place that they're purposely hiding.

Wherever the plane landed, it isn't far from where they plan to hold us. It's only about ten minutes of being shoved along before I hear a door creak and the heat and humidity is replaced by the sudden icy chill of air conditioning turned on full-blast. I lose track of myself for a moment, but before long, I'm shoved hard from behind. My knees buckle under the assault and connect sharply with a cold concrete floor.

I'm almost surprised when I hear a key click, and the cuffs fall from my wrists. I immediately yank the pillowcase off my head and go for the gag at my mouth, but by the time I've gotten both off and oriented myself, I realize that Sean, Michelle, and I have been locked inside what appears to be an industrial tool cage in a warehouse somewhere, lit by a single lightbulb directly above us—and the goons who dragged us in here are all on the other side of the bars. They don't seem to be leaving immediately, so I stand and turn slowly to face them, glaring.

“Where is your boss?” I growl. “I have a couple questions for him.”

“Yeah, Wolf. Kinda figured you would.” Lundgren's voice hits me like a fist in my gut. He appears first as the cherry-red tip of his cigar gleaming in the dim light beyond the cage before emerging where I can see him. He pulls the cigar from between his teeth and blows a pungent cloud in my direction. I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to cough.

“Where are Mike and my wife, you piece of shit?”

“Darwin's around. Behave yourself, and maybe I'll let him say goodbye before I beat your brains out.”

“What the fuck is this, Lundgren?”

“What the fuck do you think it is? It's revenge. Everything you boys did to me, you think I haven't been dreaming of this moment for the last five years?”

“You got what you deserved, you rat bastard!” I snarl.

“And you'll get yours soon enough, Wolf. I can guarantee that.”

I step up to the barrier between us, the fence of thick wire. I grip at the links, locking eyes with Lundgren.

“I know you aren't in this alone, Lundgren. You died and left a body behind same as Rourke, but that wasn't you. That wasn't the you that's here right now. You're not nearly smart enough to pull that stunt on your own. I know Jeanine was the one who took my wife. So I gotta figure you're both back in Rourke's pocket.” I lean forward slightly, my voice low. “Where is she, Lundgren? Where is my wife?”

“Ahh, right. Alodia. Cute little blonde cunt. Pretty face hides a goddamn superweapon living in a devious bitch. Rourke's beautiful 'mystery,' the key to everything. I'm impressed you managed to knock her up. She looks human enough, but I wouldn't have been surprised to find her kind had crystal teeth down there.” He takes a long drag on his cigar and exhales luxuriously before grinning at me. “Don't worry, Wolf. You'll see her again. I want you to have a front row seat when Rourke cuts the brat out of her. ...I want to watch you watch her die.”

The rage that surges through me is white-hot and blinding, and it swallows my conscious self. I can hear myself screaming, an animalistic howl as I rattle the bars with all my strength, beating the sides of my fists against the metal frame of the locked door. I throw my whole weight into the door again and again until something drags me off, holds me back, pins my arms to my side.

“Easy!” Sean hisses in my ear, holding me firmly. “You're gonna hurt yourself more than him like that!”

I slowly settle, my breath quivering. He's right. As my rage cools to a controlled simmer, I can feel the throbbing at various points where I connected with a metal support pole or the door frame. When he's satisfied that I'm in control, Sean releases me, though he keeps his hands steadyingly on my shoulders. I raise my head to find Lundgren grinning like a kid who's found the cookie jar.

“Thing is...you and Mouse are the only ones Rourke promised me. He might have plans for the lovebirds in there, but I doubt they're gonna be anything but leverage to keep your baby mama in line. And he might not need 'em at all. Maybe I should check. ...Maybe he'll let me kill 'em in front of you as a warm up.”

“You put us in a room together, asshat,” I snarl. “That means you'll have to fight me to get to my friends.”

He shrugs. “That sounds like it could be fun.” Without another word, he turns and marches out of the room, leaving four armored goons standing guard with rifles ready.

There are tears coming to my eyes. I scrub at them furiously with my forearm as I pull away from Sean and look around desperately for something to kick or punch in this room. The only thing here is a metal bucket. Probably our piss bucket, but it's empty at the moment, so I kick it viciously into the wire wall, making the cage rattle. Then I sink to my knees.

“...Rourke isn't going to kill Alodia,” Michelle says softly.

“Damn straight, he's not!” I growl through my tears. “I won't let him. I'll find a way to get to her. I'll protect her.”

“Of course. But I actually meant that I don't think killing her is in his plans.”

“You don't?” Sean asks.

“Think about it. Sure, Lundgren's out for revenge, but from everything we know, isn't it more likely that Rourke's going to try to restart Project Janus? We don't know exactly what kind of power Alodia has in her current incarnation, but I find it hard to believe he's just going to kill her when she's probably more useful to him alive.”

“That doesn't exactly make it all better,” I mutter. “Alive is better than dead, but it doesn't mean she's not suffering right now. And River...and Mike...”

Sean kneels to put a hand on my shoulder. “...Jake's right, Michelle. We gotta find a way out of here, ASAP.”

Bernadette McKenzie

The local time is about 5:30am when the plane from Louisiana touches down in California. The flight is virtually empty. Frank and I meet our daughter at the baggage carousel with fierce hugs, collect our meager luggage, and pile into her car to make the trip to Laguna Beach.

“How was the flight?” Rebecca asks.

“Smooth,” I reply softly. “No troubles.”

“What's the latest news on your brother?” Frank asks.

“They've got various coast guard ships scouring the Caribbean for the yacht he took off on. Apparently, he made it to La Huerta and he and his friends set sail from there okay, but then the signal got lost about an hour north of there.”

“...What about Alodia and her friend?”

“...Everyone's looking into ambulances that have been reported missing in California in recent weeks. There are a couple promising VINs, but there's always a possibility that the license plates were switched.” Rebecca shakes her head. “...I think we're dealing with pros here, Mom. ...No one really looks at an ambulance speeding by with its lights on. No one wants to delay them in case there's a real medical emergency they're dealing with. Procuring one wouldn't have been easy, but once they had one, it was the perfect way to transport captives.”

“I don't understand,” Frank murmurs. “I don't understand why. Why Jake? Why his partner? Why their friends? And why all at once like this? Did they really think none of them would be missed? Or are they trying to send some kind of message?”

“I don't think the why matters, Frank,” I say softly. “...I just want my boy back. I want him back, and his partner, and our little granddaughter, and all their friends.”

“That's all I want, too,” Frank assures me. “...But I also want to know why.”

* * *

The house in Laguna Beach is unlike anything I've ever seen in person before. Under normal circumstances, I would be intimidated—even put off—by the obvious wealth put into such a place. But not today. Today, I don't see the house as containing folks with millions of dollars more than me. Today, I see it as the house containing scared parents—or legal guardians as the case may be, but the point stands. In this gleaming mansion are the frightened family of the woman my son loves—the people who raised the mother of my unborn granddaughter.

Rebecca lets us in. Apparently, they gave her a key, at least while she's staying here with them. The house is quiet, though there are faint sounds coming from a room near the back. We drop our bags in the front hall and Rebecca shows us where to hang our jackets before we make our way through the lower level of the house, following the sounds to a rec room. The light from a massive, wall-mounted television flickers across the floor as a news channel with a droning newscaster plays at a volume I would consider slightly too loud. A woman in a bathrobe lies motionless on the pristine French-style sofa, the screen reflecting in her sapphire-blue eyes. I know immediately who she is. She looks so very much like her niece.

“...Molly Fisher?” I venture, hoping I remembered her name correctly. She looks up at me with weary eyes. I think I can see her summoning the will to greet us. I hold up a hand. “...No need to get up. We're all in the same boat here. ...I'm Bernadette MacKenzie. This is my husband, Frank. ...We're Jake's parents.”

“...And grandparents to my niece's child,” Molly murmurs with a sigh. “...The only living grandparents that little girl has.”

“--Next up, an unusual and alarming string of suspected kidnappings involving a pregnant woman, a best-selling author, two former Navy pilots, an NFL quarterback, and his new wife.” The news segment captures everyone's attention as it starts up. “28-year-old Alodia Chandler of Laguna Beach, California; as well as her housemate and long-time friend Diego Soto, also 28, both went missing yesterday afternoon within hours of each other. Mr. Soto and Ms. Chandler—who is currently 36 weeks pregnant—intended to meet for lunch in Riverside, where they both grew up, and where Ms. Chandler is working as a dance teacher, but they never made it to their rendezvous. Around the same time, Ms. Chandler's partner, 33-year-old Jacob MacKenzie, as well as their three friends, Michael Darwin, aged 32; Sean Gayle, aged 28; and Michelle Nguyen Gayle, aged 28, were all reported missing in the vicinity of the Caribbean islands. Now, details are still emerging on all of these disappearances, but it does appear that Mr. Darwin and Mr. MacKenzie were escorting Mr. and Mrs. Gayle off the island of La Huerta, where they had spent part of their honeymoon. All six victims were part of the infamous Vacation Gone Wrong in 2017, involving La Huerta and the island's owner at the time, Everett Rourke Senior. Police have stated that the close connection between the victims does suggest a personal motive. They have also stated that the disappearances were almost certainly orchestrated by a large, and very organized group. They are asking for the public's help in locating the victims. Any information anyone can provide will be greatly appreci--”

“I hate the language they use,” Molly whispers. “'Suggest a personal motive'. As if it isn't obvious to anyone with half a damn brain.”

She slowly sits up, letting her slippered feet meet the floor. She makes a vague gesture towards the armchairs with one hand, nodding. No one needs a translation. Frank and I both sit down.

“...I'm glad you're letting us stay here while this is sorted out,” I tell her. “It's so much easier to have support at a time like this. People outside of yourselves who understand what you're going through. ...I wish we had known each other five years ago.”

Molly's lips quiver just a little before she draws them tightly together, but I can't help seeing the sparkle of tears in her eyes, even as she ducks her head.

“...I'm scared it will be like last time,” she confesses hoarsely. “...That everyone will come back except Alodia. Everyone will get their kids back except me. ...I never even wanted kids. But she was my little sister's baby. Cassie was gone so damn fast and I...I couldn't just...”

“...Of course you couldn't.”

Molly looks up at me. “...She was a good kid. High-spirited. Rob and I just weren't ready, no matter how much I wanted to keep that piece of my sister. I thought if we hired a nanny, I could have my cake and eat it, too. Keep Cassie's kid around without having to really parent her. In so many ways it worked. ...I never really had to answer the hard questions about who her parents were, because she mostly didn't ask them. I don't think she trusted me enough. I got to spoil and indulge her and dress her up like a little doll and feel proud of her accomplishments when I knew what they were...but she figured it all out. She's smart. She knew we weren't great parents. She knew we couldn't really handle her. She got to be a teenager...she got rebellious...by the time she went to college, it was like she was just a tenant in a boarding house who came to stay with us over summer, Christmas, and sometimes a week or two in the spring...”

“No one's teenage years are easy to parent through,” Frank says soothingly. Molly gives a short, bitter bark of laughter.

“But we didn't parent! That's my point! We punished when she broke our rules and ignored her when she wasn't making trouble. ...We lost her for five years, and we swore we'd do better with our second chance, but it's all been the same shit! We throw our money at her, buy her expensive gifts, but we don't know what's really going on! We've never asked her about how her pregnancy is going. We only know she's having a girl because Jake told Rob at work after they found out! We didn't think to ask. We've never thought to tell how proud she's made us or how much of a wonderful person we think she is or how much we lo-love her...!” She gulps and lets out a sob, covering her face with her hands. “...I'm sorry. I shouldn't be pouring my regrets out onto complete strangers who are guests here...”

“Oh, shah!” I can't help myself. I go over to the couch and sit down beside Molly, drawing her into my arms. “We're not strangers here. We're mothers. Mothers and fathers. Now, don't argue. You're that girl's mother, no matter who gave birth to her. Every mother has regrets. I'm not here to judge you for what you could have done better. I'm here because right now, we don't know where our kids are, and we're scared out of our heads.”

It takes a moment, but Molly melts into my embrace, winding her arms around me like a child with a teddy bear.

“I can't do this again!” she sobs piteously. “God, how can I do this again?!”

Alodia

The small portion of the sky that I can see from the bed is still dusky when I'm wrenched from my sleep by a loud noise. Vague images from my dreams—a plastic doll swaddled in my arms, a brightly lit stage wooden stage, the darkness beyond the polished lip, and the dark, narrow staircase that impeded my path up to the stage where I was supposed to be dancing--linger in a cloud on top of my brain, the fog pierced by footsteps, and finally by hands that yank the  blankets back and drag me upright by my arms. My baby twists in my womb, no doubt agitated about being suddenly jostled. When Diego yelps, I finally come fully awake.

Arachnid goons have us both by the arms, and we're being dragged to opposite sides of the room while Fiddler stands in the center of the bare wooden floor, looking between us with a smug, predatory smile.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I manage to croak.

“I intend to make sure you remember who is in charge here, my little blonde brat. Don't think no one noticed that you puked on one of my friends last night.”

“I was motion-sick,” I protest. Even as I do, I realize that she probably doesn't really care. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that what's happening right now is a power play, nothing more or less. The problem is that I have a sinking feeling that I know how she plans to assert her authority. “It wasn't something I did on purpose.”

“You're probably telling the truth,” she concedes. “But, it was still nasty and smelly. And in the event that you're lying and you did do it on purpose...”

Before I can react, she whips around and drives her closed fist into Diego's gut. His knees buckle as he doubles over in pain, coughing. The Arachnid goons hold him upright as I struggle against my own captors, crying out angrily. Fiddler crosses the room and grabs my chin, pressing the walls of my cheeks into my teeth.

“That's me going easy on you,” she hisses, bringing her face close to mine. “If you don't do everything I tell you to do, I'll go harder. Understand?”

I can't really talk with her fingers squeezing my face, but I nod as much as I can. This seems to satisfy her, because she releases my jaw.

“Good girl. Now, you and me are gonna go downstairs. You try fighting me on it, I'll give your buddy a beating he won't forget.”

I'm not going to fight her. I don't have it in me to test her right now. The Arachnid soldiers holding Diego let go of him and he sinks to his knees, clearly trying to swallow a grimace as he looks up to meet my eyes. I can't think of anything reassuring to say. My vision blurs with tears as I turn and move dazedly toward the door.

I'm quiet on the stairs, concentrating on taking each step without falling. I'm not blindfolded this time, but late pregnancy has me prone to weakness and dizzy spells, even without the added stress of being goddamn kidnapped by someone I watched die five years ago.

The downstairs of this cottage or cabin or whatever is just as sparse as the room at the top of the stairs. The curtains over all the windows are heavy and drawn, no doubt to keep us from seeing out—and possibly to keep anyone else from looking in. But what I find myself really fixating on is how clean everything is. Like someone swept and scrubbed in anticipation of our arrival. That feeling is only compounded when it turns out that Fiddler is leading me into a rustic but pristine bathroom where hot, clear water is flowing out of a polished tap and crashing into a clawfoot tub. Steam rises off the surface of the water, nearly halfway up the tub. A washcloth and towel hang on the bar beside the vanity. A pair of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt sit neatly folded on the closed lid of the toilet, along with a pair of cotton panties and plain white socks.

I can't stop a faint, “What the fuck...?” from passing my lips. Fiddler snorts.

“Are you blind? It's a bath, blodie. A healthy fucking bath, heated to 98 degress.” She goes to turn off the tap. “And a change of clothes. I told you my employer wants you and your parasite healthy.”

“...You can say 'Rourke',” I mutter. “We all know who's greasing your palm. ...Am I going to be permitted some privacy?”

Fiddler snorts. “And risk you trying something stupid? I don't think so.”

I roll my eyes. “What exactly do you expect me to do? Climb out the window with this belly? You think I'm just going to abandon Diego?”

She shrugs, but she doesn't move, nor does she attempt to argue her point. She doesn't have to. She's got the power here, and she knows it. I sigh and start to undress. I'm still wearing the sweat jacket and unitard that I left the studio in yesterday. I peel them off and fold everything neatly and deliberately before stepping carefully into the tub and lowering myself into the water.

I can't deny that the water feels amazing. But the fact that it feels good only serves to upset me more when I remember that I'm a prisoner here. I find the soap in a dish beside the tub and start to scrub resentfully.

“...This isn't going to end how you want it to end,” I inform her flatly.

“Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better,” she replies, which I might have expected.

“My baby will not be born in captivity. ...This isn't La Huerta, Fiddler. This isn't Rourke's territory. We're not isolated on an island while the rest of the world is burning.” I turn a sidelong gaze on her. “And my husband is still out there. Do you really think he's going to rest before I'm home safe?”

The slow way she smiles makes my blood freeze. When she speaks, her voice is a purr. “Oh, I was so hoping you would bring him up. I absolutely wanted you to find out this way.”

My heart drops like a stone, splashing into something icy in my stomach. “...Wh-what are you talking about...?” I ask, my voice thin and breathless.

“Rex Lundgren's got Wolf now. Oh, don't panic. I can pretty well guarantee he's not dead yet. No, it's too soon. And I'm pretty sure he and Rourke want to make sure you see it when he does die. But he probably isn't having a whole lot of fun right now.”

The soap slips from my numb hands as I grip the edges of the bathtub, struggling to breathe. I stare into the rippling water between my bended knees. On the edges of my vision, my submerged thighs are a strange shade of gray, starkly contrasting the pink kneecaps that peak up above the surface like islands. My panicked thoughts chase each other through the storm in my head, tackling, wrestling each other for dominance.

Jake...oh, god, Jake...He isn't dead! He can't be dead. Even Fiddler says he isn't dead...Yet'! Not dead 'yet'!...And he might be suffering...he might be in pain...

“...Why...?” I whisper. Fiddler rolls her eyes.

“Jesus, do you really have to ask?” she sneers. “You said it yourself. He'd only be getting in our way if we left him to his own devices.”

I glare at her, feeling my expression twist into something ugly with sorrow and anger. “Why do you hate him so much?” I snarl. “Did he dump you or something?”

Fiddler raises an eyebrow. “Now why would you assume that?” she sounds irritated.

Her question actually catches me off guard, but only for an instant. Just enough that I can get the tears under control. I fish the soap from the water and rub it between my palms. “Your hatred is clearly more than professional. It's personal. You were glad to turn him and Mike in all those years ago.”

“I was thrilled,” she agrees. “But why do you assume it's because we were lovers? Because I'm a woman, any hatred I have for a man has to be because he scorned me?”

That actually gives me pause for a moment. “...I just can't imagine Jake doing anything else that could possibly explain why you hate him so much.”

“Of course not,” she scoffs. “You're his perfect 'princess', and he's your dashing goddamn rogue hero. You're a fucking fairy tale, and neither of you will ever be anything except perfect in the other's eyes. I could tell you why I hate him, but it won't make sense to you because he'll always be a paragon to you!”

“...So what did he do to you?”

“He showed me up!” She practically spits the words. “Five years I had been fighting and clawing my way into the elite ranks, and then suddenly this scrawny kid from the fucking swamp just comes in and is immediately the best pilot in the whole goddamn Navy?! Everything I worked for was just snatched away and handed to someone else?!”

“...That's the way life goes sometimes,” I reply softly. “There's always someone better, Fiddler.”

“Yeah, well. Sometimes you get the chance to tip the scales back in your favor. You know the only reason I don't just kill you right now is I'm sure whatever Rourke is planning for you is worse. And whatever it is, I hope Wolf lives long enough to see it.”

* * *

When my bath is finished and I'm dressed in the unflattering gray sweatsuit provided to me, I'm hustled back to the attic room. Diego isn't there when I get back, and I almost panic. But within a few minutes, he reappears with damp hair and wearing the same plain gray sweatsuit that I am. He smiles mirthlessly when he sees me.

“...Guess this is the uniform for prisoners here. Gray is the new black, anyone? ...Doesn't really have the same ring to it as 'orange,' but it also goes with more...”

I don't answer. I'm crying again, and all I can do is run to him and throw my arms around him. I press my face into his shoulder as he winds his arms around me.

“I'm sorry...” I whimper. “I'm so sorry...”

“Oh, Allie...this isn't your fault. None of it is your fault.”

I pull back to look at him. “Are you okay? It looked like she got you pretty bad before.”

He winces a little. “Well, I won't say it didn't hurt. But I'm undamaged. I'll be okay.” He puts an arm over my shoulders, leading me over to the bed. “C'mere. Come sit down.”

I go where he leads me, sinking down onto the bed. I scrub at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, sniffling.

“...Do you remember back on the island, when we found the game room in The Celestial?”

“You mean when we still thought the Vaanti were trying to kill us?” he says wryly.

“Yeah. And we found the dossier with my name on it?”

“Right. The one with like, zero information on it, except your birthday and your birthplace.”

“...I didn't understand it. At that point, I still had this whole timeline in my head. The one where you and I grew up together. The one we're living now. I couldn't understand why I was the one with the highest threat rating, the one no one could figure out. I thought I was simple. Nothing special. And if I didn't know what I am now, I still wouldn't understand.”

“...What do you mean?”

“...The people I love most in the world are all smart and successful. Geniuses, athletes, revolutionaries. You write books that make the best-sellers list. My husband was an ace pilot in his day. Raj is a world-famous chef. Michelle is a doctor. Quinn is changing lives. ...I'm a dance teacher who didn't even finish college. To the casual observer, I don't really seem to fit in with the rest of the family.”

“...But you know none of us would be where we are without you, don't you?”

I know. Of course I know. It's the whole reason I was born, and it's the cause of all the existential angst I've been experiencing for the last ten months. But I'm not up for rehashing all my insecurities right now. Not even to Diego. In any case, my mind is only leaping to them in an attempt to distract me from much more pressing fears. ...It isn't working. I look up at Diego.

“...Lundgren is alive, Diego. He has Jake.”

Diego's expression crumbles as the color drains from his face. “...Oh, god...Oh, Allie...” He pulls me into his arms and holds me hard against himself, rocking me just a little forcefully. I didn't think I had tears left, but here I am, soaking Diego's gray sweatshirt with them. His hand trembles at it strokes my hair.

“...Fiddler says he's probably alive. ...But just because Lundgren wants him to suffer.”

I feel his grip on me tighten. “...We're getting out of here. I don't know how yet, but we're getting out. Either we get ourselves out, or someone will come for us. All I know for sure is that we have the best family anyone could ask for, and they have never let us down.”

In spite of myself, I feel the weakest smile tug at my lips. “...Aren't the inspirational speeches my thing?” I mumble.

“Yeah, usually. But it kinda seemed like I needed to step up here.”

A sound escapes me that might be a mix of a cough, a whimper, and a half-hearted laugh. I feel like I'm back on the mountain pass leading to the La Huerta Observatory, helplessly dangling miles above the rainforest with the rope knotted around my waist and a failing grip above me as the only things keeping me from plunging into the arms of the open air and oblivion. I grip Diego more tightly.

“...Stay with me, Diego. Whatever happens, just promise me you won't let me be alone.”

“...I promise, Allie.”

I don't know if it's a promise he'll be able to keep. But I appreciate him making it.

Kenji

I get to the hospital early the morning after the attack. I didn't sleep very much, but I don't feel tired. I'm anxious and agitated and a single cup of black coffee doesn't really help matters. I have to stuff my hands in my pockets to hide how much they're shaking.

Eva is waiting in the hall outside Tahira's room when I arrive. Seeing me approach, she pushes herself off the wall she was leaning on and comes to meet me. Her expression is one of grim determination that makes my heart twist painfully. That's not a good news expression.

“...How is she?”

“Stable. But still unconscious.”

“Is that normal?”

“For anyone else? I don't know. Doctors are being kinda vague about that. All I know is that it's not normal for her.”

“What are the doctors saying?”

“Very little, according to Rochelle and Grayson. Just that the damage wasn't as bad as it could have been and her vitals are strong.”

I sigh, and pull my hands out of my pockets without thinking to rub them over my face. When I pull them down again, Eva is frowning at me.

“You okay?” she asks. “You're...kinda shaking like a leaf.”

I shake my head, stuffing my hands back into my pockets. “It's fine. Coffee jitters. Plus I didn't really sleep last night.”

“Yeah, me neither,” she admits. After a moment, she reaches out to put a comradely hand on my shoulder. “...She's gotta be okay. They can't just...they can't just take her down...”

“No,” I agree, my voice grim. “They can't.”

I feel the tingling on my fingertips a moment before it registers that my phone is going off in my pocket. I groan, pulling it out to glance at the screen. I don't recognize the number, and I tap to ignore, stuffing my phone back in my pocket.

“Who's calling?” Eva asks.

“No one I know, and no one I care to talk to.” I lean back against the wall. “...So, can we see Tahira?”

“Yeah, I think so. I was in there for awhile before you got h--” She cuts herself off when my phone starts to buzz again. I groan, pulling it out of my pocket to read the screen.

“Same number.”

“You should answer.”

“Probably some over-enthusiastic telemarketer,” I grunt, tapping ignore again.

“...You sure about that?” Almost before she's finished her sentence, the buzzing starts again. I swear under my breath and finally raise the phone to my ear.

“Hello, who is this?” I snap.

“Katsaros,” a familiar voice grumbles back. “About time you answered, you shiny bastard.”

“...Caleb?! What the fuck?! Where the hell are you?!”

“Never mind that.”

“How did you even get this number? Did Tahira give it to you?”

“No. Never mind how I got it. ...How is Tahira?”

“Stable,” I answer flatly. After a brief hesitation, I add. “But...still unconscious.”

“...I gotta tell you something. Something she said when she was in my van. It didn't register at the time, but it might be important. ...She said, 'I think there was something on the knife'.”

“...What does that mean?”

“The fuck do I know?! Maybe it means she was poisoned somehow!”

I feel the blood rush out of my head. It makes sense. Too much sense. “...Shit...” I whisper, my voice weak and hoarse. “...If you're right...”

“...Look, I'm gonna do what I can to track down her attacker. Or at least the weapon. If I can get that back to your brainiacs, maybe they can do something with it.”

I don't mention that the only medical doctor we could actually trust with the secret side of Tahira's biology has been kidnapped from her honeymoon. I guess Dax's biologist friend at Prescott Industries could be trusted with a sample of Tahira's blood...but that would mean acquiring it...

“Caleb, be careful,” I murmur, lowering my voice. “The...person that attacked her...they aren't human.”

“Aww, you worried about me, Katsaros?”

“Fuck you!” I snarl. “I don't give a shit about you! I just care about getting hold of whoever hurt Tahira!”

“Okay, okay. Calm your tits. Seriously, relax. Remember I can conjure fire. ...But you mind telling me what this thing is, if it ain't human?”

“They're...like a hyper-evolved human. Superior strength, speed, and super senses.”

“...So it's like us.”

I sigh. “...Superficially, yes. ...You get your hands on them, or on the weapon, I'll explain in more detail.”

“...You saying that'll make you trust me?”

“I'm saying that if you help us save Tahira, it will be a huge step in the right direction.”

Tahira

I'm not conscious. I'm sure that I'm not conscious. The last thing I remember was the bright florescent light in the operating room and a face in a surgical mask hovering over me. I was cold. But the right side of my torso felt like it was on fire. Neither of those two sensations have altered, even as I open my eyes to a familiar fuschia sky. I roll my head carefully from one side to the other. The world takes a moment to catch up and slide into focus, almost like I'm drunk. But I see what I was expecting. Crystals. Giant crystals sprouting from the landscape. I'm back in the crystal dimension. The planet where I was born.

I roll carefully onto my uninjured side. The pain remains suspiciously steady. The motion doesn't cause it to flare. There's no tugging sensation to warn me that I might be about to tear whatever stitches they put in me. I sit up slowly and lift my shirt to examine the wound. But there is no wound. Just a red glow, as if there's a flashlight lodged in my torso. It burns. But the rest of me is cold. But I'm not shivering. I press a hand to my chest, and feel the steady throb of my heart under my palm. I raise my hand to hover under my nose and deliberately push out a hard breath. The rush of air tickles my skin. I'm breathing. My heart is beating. I hurt. I don't think I'm dead.

Tahira...!

The voice fills my head and spills out into the air around me. I look up sharply to see a shimmering figure floating among the crystals. I squint. Only three beings I would expect to appear to me this way. Its shape is vaguely masculine, which narrows it down to two.

“...Dad?” I venture to guess. But immediately I realize that isn't right. “No...Vaanu. Uncle. What's happening? What am I doing here?”

Wake up, Tahira. There is desperation in the voice in my head. You must wake up. I cannot reach my daughter.

“Alodia? What's wrong? Is she in trouble?”

Your enemies are moving against you. I cannot reach her. You must wake up.

“Of course. Right away...” But even as I say it, I am aware that I can't. “...Wait...I don't think it's gonna be that simple...”

Wake up, Tahira.

“I swear I'm trying! ...I think they poisoned me, Uncle. I felt so strange before I slipped off. Like I could feel a fog filling my head...” It had all come on too fast, I remember thinking. With my enhanced strength, I shouldn't have collapsed so quickly. I shouldn't have gone into shock. I should have been able to hold out longer.“...Am I dying?”

Though the thought does bring on a twinge of anxiety, I'm not nearly as scared as I probably should be. Still, Vaanu's next words are comforting.

You will not die. But you must fight.

“Right. Fight. ...Um...how?”

...Wake up, Tahira! WAKE UP!...

I grit my teeth as I struggle to my feet. The pain doesn't change with the motion of my body, but it still hurts enough to be hindering. Still, Vaanu has told me what I need to know. I'm alive. But I'm trapped. Trapped in my mind. And I am not going to escape lying in the dirt. I gather my strength and take a step. My bare foot sinks into soft purple dust. It supports my weight, and I raise my other foot to place it in front, leaving behind a neat impression in the dust behind. That's the hardest part over. I don't know where I'm going, but I've taken the first step. I'm coming, Alodia. Wherever you are, I'm coming.

Zahra

I spent the night on the floor of the office. Iris has been plugged into our systems since the news broke. Her hologram has mostly stayed off, but the lights flickering on the surface of her drone assure me she's staying vigilant. Craig came by sometime after midnight to bring me food and coffee—and an extra-large sleeping bag and pillow for us to share. I didn't get a lot of sleep, but that's par for the course. And it was nice to have Craig spooning me all night, feeling his breath against my neck. I catch a little sleep around four in the morning, waking up a couple hours later to find him gone, the heat fading from his spot in the sleeping bag. I check my phone and find a text alert:

P2: Gone to get breakfast! BBS! <3

I smirk, tapping out a reply: Better b donuts

P2: So many donuts!!! I R best bf evar!

An email alert scrolls down at the top of my phone screen. At the same time, Iris' drone chimes, her hologram flickering to life.

“Zahra, an email message has come through, marked high priority.”

“Thanks, Iris. I got it.” I double-tap the alert with my thumb and my email opens. I don't recognize the address—a string of apparently random numbers and letters—and there's an attachment. I would brush it off as a phishing scam or a virus attack, except for the message that accompanies it:

To find Cassandra Sullivan's daughter, consult her first baby. Everett Rourke was never above buying what was useful to him, no matter how ill-gotten.

“...Cassandra Sullivan. That was Alodia's mom's maiden name,” I murmur aloud.

“What about Alodia's mom?” I turn to see Craig pushing through the door, balancing a box of donuts in one hand and a dangerously sagging cardboard tray of two coffee cups in the other. I leap up to grab the tray of cups before our precious caffeine fix ends up all over the carpet.

“Jesus, Craig! Put the cups kitty-corner when there's two of them! It's too heavy when you put them both on one edge!”

“Sorry. So, what about Alodia's mom?” I show him the email pulled up on my phone. He frowns. “...What does that mean? And who sent it?”

“No idea. Iris, can you trace the IP address?”

Iris' holographic eyes flicker for a moment. “Email was sent from an internet café in Barcelona, Spain.”

“Internet café?” Craig repeats. “Those still exist?”

“...'ProjectGalatea'...”

“Huh?”

“That's what the attachment is called. ...How's our antivirus software, Iris?”

I swear Iris's smile looks smug. “Useless compared to me, Zahra. That is why you always take me with you when you go hacking.”

“Touché. Well, I'll let you take care of opening that attachment, then.”

“Of course, Zahra. I...oh, dear...” She trails off, frowning.

“What? What's wrong?”

“Observe the screen, Zahra. I believe there is something you ought to be aware of.”

I move to sit in front of the computer, where Iris has displayed a readout of security data. It takes a few times going over it to realize what I'm looking at. When it finally sinks in, I feel the blood drain out of my head. My hands start to shake on the desk in front of me.

“...Shit...oh, shit...how...?!”

“Z? What is it? What's wrong?” Craig comes to grip my shoulders. “Hey, P1, take a couple breaths.”

“...Security breaches on the island. Three of them. They weren't there when I originally went through the data logs. Iris, are these time stamps accurate?”

“I am afraid so, Zahra. These files came from the back-up archives. I was only just alerted to the discrepancy. I don't know why I didn't catch it sooner.”

“I think I know why,” I reply grimly. “Whoever is responsible, they had access to the latest codes or they would have tripped the alarm. And they were able to delete the records from the primary logs, so they have access to the security system. ...The first breech is about an hour after we lost contact with Jake, Sean, and Michelle.” I feel Craig's grip tighten at the mention of Sean.

“So...what's that mean?”

“...We won't know for sure until we look. But I have a hunch that those three at least are still on the island.”

[lambroseforlife]

High school lambrose

Since this suggestion said “high school” and not “secondary”, I’m just assuming that anon wanted this to take place somewhere in North America during a modern time period since there technically was no existence of “high school” in the 1800s.

— — —

“Ahhh.” Lilly exhaled in relief when the car’s engine shut off, parked at its destination. She stretched out her limbs, propping her feet on top of the dashboard, her battered black Converse high tops nearly scuffing the front window.

From her left, she felt a frosty glare burrow into her tanned legs, exposed by the pair of shorts she was wearing. A moment of cold silence passed before an equally icy tone filled the small space of the car — in her opinion, far more effective than the air conditioning system.

“Feet. Off. Now.”

“Alright, alright.” Lilly grumbled, complying at the command. She turned expectantly to the driver sitting next to her.

The car may have been a used one, but was recently purchased as a present to him from his parents shortly after he had passed the driving test and received his license. Their insistence to him that it was both a privilege and a responsibility to have a car was one that he held remarkably to utmost seriousness.

His sea-colored eyes reflected annoyance as he reached over in front of her to open the glovebox, pulling out a white cloth and rubbing at the area on the dashboard where her shoes had been. She glared at him.

“Oh, come on! I just threw these in the laundry last week.” She protested, gesturing to her high tops.

He cast a distasteful glance downwards at her feet, clearly unconvinced at the sight of the faded, worn-down shoes before vigorously wiping down the dashboard for a few more seconds. He returned the cloth back to the glovebox and closed it, still not saying anything.

Lilly sighed. “Rick, live a little. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

He finally broke the silence, raising a black eyebrow. “Celebrating what?”

“You know, finishing high school? Surviving eight torturous hours of classes five days a week for the past four years?”

“Technically, we still haven’t received our diplomas yet. Nor do we know our final grades for this semester.” He pointed out coolly.

“Don’t be a buzzkill. Graduation is tomorrow and I bet you aced all your exams like usual. I’ll eat my shoes otherwise.”

He snorted. “Very well, celebration it is then. Is that why you didn’t want to go home yet?”

“Yep.” She chirped. She opened the car door and stepped out, with Rick following suit. 

They had just departed from an outing with the rest of their friends at the town’s local diner. The place had been packed, with many of their other classmates there as well to feast for the occasion. To say the least, the diner would have stellar business for the night but also one hell of a cleanup job afterwards. Lilly decided she had socialized enough once the noise level had reached to a peak, enough to be headache-inducing. After promising to meet up with their group before and after tomorrow’s ceremony, both she and Rick had left since he was her ride for the evening. Once they sat in his car, she told him that she wanted to make a quick stop at a particular place. He was surprised but nonetheless, silently obliged.

A gust of hot air blew in her face when she closed the car door. Grumbling, she pulled her hair back into a short ponytail using the hair tie around her wrist in a vain attempt to mitigate the frizz from the summer weather. Lilly could already feel the heat clinging to her skin and hear the mosquitos buzzing about in the humid air. She was thankful that she had remembered last minute to spray on repellant before leaving the house.

Rick locked the car before falling in step beside her. They said nothing as they trekked a short distance through the grass, finally sitting side-by-side on a concrete bench directly under a lamppost.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark track pants, speaking up. 

“So…” Rick began. “Any particular reason you wanted come here?”

“Kinda.” A deep crease settled by the corner of her frown while her nose scrunched. He recognized it as the expression she wore whenever she was lost in thought.

She continued. “I wanted to have some time to think among all this…craziness.”

He waited for her to elaborate.

“I dunno. It just feels like everything happened so suddenly, you know? First it was college applications, then semester exams, then waiting on college acceptances, then club activities and dances, and then even more exams. Now we’re graduating tomorrow. Like, bam!” She clapped her hands for extra emphasis. “Where did all the time go this year?”

“You’re right.” He spoke quietly. “Things felt hectic.”

“Exactly! And soon we’re all supposed to be going off into the adult world. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really excited. For starters, it’ll be nice not having to ask for permission every time I want to go to the restroom.” She rolled her eyes at the absurd concept. “But still, at the same time I don’t feel ready having to say goodbye to all the friends I made. Meeting new people. Moving to a new environment by myself. Like I’m being thrown into this all at once and I’m so damn sure that I’m going to screw up.”

“Then screw up.”

“What?” She turned her head to glare at him directly. “How could you say that?”

“Look,” he explained calmly. “You’ve made mistakes before and you’re going to make them again. Expecting to not make mistakes is, frankly, rather stupid. What matters is how you use those mistakes. You’re going to meet all kinds of people, ones that you’ll get along with and ones that you won’t. And you being you, you’ll probably make some really dumb decisions along the way too. But also being you, you’ll reflect on that and learn from them. Life would be dull and boring without its challenges.”

She stared at him, her dark brown eyes widened and her mouth slightly ajar.

His voice lowered. “Don’t forget, you’re not alone in all of this. We are in the same boat together and we both will do stupid things in the future. It’s guaranteed to happen. But we are going to the same college and you know you can rely on me whenever you need it. I’ll always have your back, Lilly.”

Her eyes were watery. “Have you considered switching your major to Philosophy instead?” She choked out, leaning forward to pull him in for a hug.

“Tempting, but I’ll pass.” He muttered into her ear as his arms wrapped around her.

Pulling away, the pads of his thumbs wiped at the moisture leaking out of her eyes. “I thought we were supposed to be celebrating?”

She coughed out a laugh, sniffling then hiccupping. “They’re happy tears.”

They sat back to their original positions, settling into a comfortable silence for several minutes.

Lilly raised her legs, bringing her feet on the bench and tucking her knees under her chin. While in her curled position, she stared ahead with her large brown eyes focused in the distance.

“Do you remember when we first met?” She slowly asked.

From the corner of her vision, she could see the teenage boy next to her shoot her an incredulous look.

“All I remember from our kindergarten days was you constantly ruining my finger paintings by smearing your grubby hands all over them.”

“Good times.” One corner of her mouth quirked up in a devilish smirk. “You used to cry for an hour afterwards.”

“I did not.” He scoffed. “Why are you asking me about our first meeting?”

“Because I don’t remember,” she confessed sheepishly. “So I was hoping that you did. But I do remember how we used to always hang out here at the park on weekends.”

He chuckled. “Back when the biggest problems were who got to go down the slide first and use the shovel in the sandbox.” His nodded in the direction of the playground out in the distance.

“Life used to be so much easier back then.” Lilly frowned. “What happened?”

“Like with everything else, time happened.” He simply said.

She pouted. “From the wise words of Einstein, ‘time is an illusion.’”

“Technically it’s freedom that is an illusion, not time.”

She gave him a bland look. “Let’s not argue about this again like last time.”

They settled into comfortable silence once more. A few minutes passed until Lilly spoke up again.

“Rick?” She asked in a small voice, glancing sideways at him.

He met her gaze. “Yes, Lilly?”

“I, um, wanted to thank you. For all that you did for me during our senior year, especially at the beginning. It’s because of you that I’m even able to participate tomorrow.”

He stared at her, perplexed, and she elaborated.

“You know…the dress code incident.”

Sometime during the start of the school year on a particularly warm day, Lilly had worn a red scoop neck blouse that had exposed her collarbone and partially her shoulders. Their widely unpopular school principal, Mr Ellingham, had spotted her during the lunch period and declared that she had violated student conduct for dress code rules. Despite Rick lending her his hoodie to cover up, Lilly had been written up for a two week suspension and sent home, with her privilege to walk at the graduation ceremony revoked. The official reason given had been stated as “insubordination”, but it was obvious to Lilly that Mr Ellingham had never really liked her or her witty disposition from previous disputes — readily using the first available opportunity for his own subjective motivations.

To put it lightly, Rick was livid when he found out what had happened. As vice president of the student council, he had wasted no time in subtly spreading news of the incident. Within two days, the entire school had heard and was in a state of unrest. News had spread within the county and even out of state as well, all thanks to social media. When Rick had also informed his mother, she had taken direct action. As an active member of the school’s parent-teacher association and a distinguished generous patron of the school district, Samantha Genevieve Ambrose had wasted no time in bringing awareness among her extensive social circle, which included those on the town’s council and newspaper staff. 

By the time Lilly’s suspension had ended and she was back in school, Rick had informed her that the school and the district had been on the receiving end for public complaints and anonymous threats for the overly harsh treatment towards an honor roll student with a clean record for no previous incidents of misconduct. A few months later, Mr Ellingham had resigned and had been replaced by Mrs Gibbons, an older, no-nonsense lady with a heart of gold. The new principal had been well-liked by the student body instantly, especially by Lilly for giving her a written formal apology on behalf of the school and clearance to participate in the graduation ceremony.

Understanding dawned on Rick’s face as he recalled the whirlwind of overwhelming events from the year. “You don’t need to thank me for that. I was just doing what any student council member– no, what any person with decent morals would have done.”

“But still…you were the one that spoke up about it first and it means a lot to me. And also just for these past four years in general. I never got to say it properly but I really appreciate everything that you did. How much you looked out for me.”

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Lilly Linton?” He squinted at her suspiciously.

She lightly punched him in the arm. “Don’t ruin the moment, I’m trying to be nice here.”

“Nice? I guess miracles really do happen.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Why are we best friends again?”

“I have no idea.” His face was deadpan but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “You tell me.”

She couldn’t help but to roll her eyes.

“But thank you as well.” He added seriously, with sincerity. “For being by my side during all these years, Lilly.”

She looked at him for a moment then reached over and squeezed his hand, smiling up at him. Letting go, she abruptly stood up.

“Alright, let’s go now. We’ve stayed long enough and the air here is making us both sappy. I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow anyway.”

He rose from the bench and they left the park. They walked back to his car, her arm linked with his.

— — —

Rivulets of sweat trickled down Lilly’s neck as she squinted up at the weathered brick building in front of her. Placing a tanned hand over her eyes to shield from the sun’s harsh glare, she stared wistfully at the familiar black plaque letters above the main entrance 

Empire High School.

She pulled her phone out from her small crossbody purse to glance at the time. 8:43 A.M., the brightly-lit screen displayed. She was early, all of the seniors were supposed to meet in the gymnasium by 9:30 in preparation to go over the ceremony procession order. 

Lilly yawned, casting off any traces of sleepiness as her hand reached out and grabbed the metal handle of the door. It was unexpectedly hot, absorbent of the outside heat. She yelped and flinched, yanking the door open as fast as possible before slipping inside.

A cool gust of air hit her face, and she instinctively closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of the air-conditioned interior of the school. A bittersweet feeling washed over her, knowing that it was the last time she had entered the place as a student. It had been a crucial part of her life for the past four years — with hours spent in the library fussing over chemistry notes, gossip exchanged in passing while going to lockers, lunch periods filled with comically absurd discussions, and after-school meetings reserved for dreaded group projects.

She walked through the maze of empty hallways, frowning when she could not spot another student in sight. She fiddled with the golden graduation cap pinned to her hair and adjusted the matching golden gown draped over her arm.

As she drew closer to the gym’s entrance, she could hear laughter. A turn of the corner and she saw some of her classmates already in their attire, chattering animatedly with their friends and taking pictures. Some of them smiled in greeting and even waved when they noticed her, the dress code incident having made her more well-known among her peers. It was something that had bothered her at earlier in the year until she became used to it with time, learning to automatically smile and wave back.

“There she is!” A voice squealed excitedly.

A second later, something slammed into her. Hard. She wheezed and stumbled back, the breath knocked out of her lungs. She steadied herself, ready to give a piece of her mind to the person that had rudely crashed into her. Looking up, she saw who it was and her glare melted when she recognized the wildly grinning face of Eve Sanders.

She gave Lilly a slow once-over, nodding her head in approval. “Well, well, well. You look amazing if I do say so myself. That dress is gorgeous on you.”

“Thanks.” Lilly glanced down at the burgundy skirt of her dress that flowed to her knees. “The same goes for you too, Eve.” She appraised the small bit of the white floral print dress peeking out from her unzipped graduation gown.

Her two other best friends, Patsy Cusack and Flora Milton emerged into view. They were fully attired in the golden graduation gown, cap and matching tassel assigned to all of the graduating females. Lilly gave them both a hug.

“We have to take pictures.” Flora insisted, taking out her phone. They posed for a few pictures until Eve asked them to wait.

“I have to keep fixing my hair.” She complained, tugging at it. “The humidity outside made it all frizzy.”

“I’m pretty sure the heat melted half of my makeup off already. I bet I can pass for a haunted wax doll after today.” Lilly remarked.

“Ugh. Girls, girls! You’re both pretty. Can I go home now?” Patsy quipped.

Eve and Lilly glared at Patsy.

“Children’s movie quotes? How original.” Lilly sarcastically commented.

It was Patsy’s turn to glare this time, scowling at her.

Lilly turned and spotted an approaching familiar face in the distance. She went up to him.

“May I say,” she said a sickly-sweet tone while fluttering her eyelashes, “that navy blue graduation gown really brings out the color of your eyes?”

Rick’s face turned sour. “You absolutely may not. Speaking of graduation gowns, why aren’t you wearing yours yet?”

She sighed. “It was too hot outside. Don’t you feel it too? You’re wearing two thick layers of dark colors.” She nodded to the hem of his black dress pants peeking out from the bottom of his customary male blue graduation gown that nicely contrasted with her golden one, the two school colors in sync.

“The heat isn’t as bad as you think. You’re just being dramatic.”

“Or you’re obviously a robot.” She mumbled under her breath.

“I heard that.”

A group of classmates approached him and he turned to speak with them. Shaking her head, Lilly headed back to her group of friends, putting on her gown and zipping it up. Together they headed to the gym, forced to separate into clusters based on the first letter of their last name.

What proceeded afterwards could only be described as boring, with her former history teacher, Mr Pearson, attempting to arrange the students in her group alphabetically and droning on in a monotonous tone for “appropriate presentation”.

When they finally filed out of the gym and onto the athletic field an hour later, Lilly felt a short-lived sense of relief which quickly dissipated once she went out into the heat. The sun was unforgiving on all those trapped in its presence, the multitude of floppy hats and waving hand-held paper fans as tell-tale signs within the sea of people seated in plastic folding chairs on the field’s trimmed grass.

The tones cut from a section of Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance ‎March No. 1 played as the typical designated graduation theme song while they stepped onto the grass. The groups of students walked in two separate lines down the center of the two halves of the group of chairs. 

Ten minutes later and Lilly was internally screaming, still standing out in the sweltering sun while her group waited for their turn to be seated. She felt like she was turning into a baked potato from the heat, the square top of her graduation cap not wide enough to provide shade for her face. Under her graduation gown, she could feel her dress plastered to her skin from the sweat and her ears wanted to bleed from hearing the same music played on loop. She had seen Rick enter among the first of students and sit at the first row, as per the alphabetical order of last names.

When she was able to finally enter an empty row of chairs and sit down, she passed the rest of the time waiting for the other seniors to be seated by perusing through the booklet of graduation ceremony agenda, a copy set on each empty chair. The last row of students sat down another thirty minutes later and Lilly let out a sigh, leaning back into her chair as the principal, Mrs Gibbons, opened the ceremony.

The rest of the event passed by without a hitch. Speeches were made by the selected speakers, both graduating seniors and favored faculty members. Heartfelt songs were performed by those from the music club, from their own original compositions. When the time came to bring the seniors forward to individually receive their diplomas, a hush fell through the crowd. The graduating students automatically straightened in their seats, ready for the moment that they had all been waiting for since the start of the year.

They were dismissed by rows, ascending to the stage one by one after their names were announced. When a “Rikkard Ambrose” was called, people cheered for their vice president and Lilly jumped out of her chair, whooping excitedly, earning laughter from those around her. A certain boy, tall and lean with sea-colored eyes, saw her and shook his head in embarrassment as he stepped forward and accepted the embellished proof for something he had worked rigorously to achieve, with the aid of sheer willpower and countless hours of skipped sleep.

When the turn came for her row, she exhaled deeply, squaring her shoulders as she rose. She walked in line with the rest of her classmates to the stage, silently hoping that she wouldn’t awkwardly trip. The stage’s center drew closer and closer with each person in front of her called. Until finally…

“Lillian Linton.”

Lilly felt as if she were in a dream as she stepped forward towards Mrs Gibbons, who held her diploma in an outstretched hand.

Cheering erupted from the crowd, people chanting her name. From her family, from her friends and everyone that had been sympathetic to her plight and supportive to her cause. Lilly couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes as she reached her principal, accepting the diploma and shaking her hand.

“Congratulations. You earned it.” The older lady smiled proudly at her and Lilly beamed back.

She posed for pictures on the side of stage with the other faculty, taken by a professional photographer hired by the school and then descended the stairs onto the grass, heading back to her row and sitting in her seat.

The rest of the procession passed by without a hitch and once the last row of students returned to their seats, Mrs Gibbons spoke to the crowd again.

“Will the graduating class please rise?”

They all did in perfect synchronization, Lilly’s heartbeat hammering furiously in anticipation.

“For the final closing gesture, you all may now move your tassels from right to left as you all have now…officially graduated!”

Thunderous cheering and roaring applause erupted from the crowd of attendees as the now-former students moved their tassels. Someone– Lilly did not know who– threw their graduation cap into the air, and the rest of her former classmates followed suit. Carefully unpinning her cap from her styled hair, she threw hers also– but not very high, as she wished to keep it as a memento.

The crowd began to scatter, as the new graduates wished to reunite with their families and their friends. People were crying and hugging, while others were laughing and cheering together. Lilly turned to head in the direction for her parents and sisters when she spotted a recognizable figure towering above the other graduates. 

She pushed her way through the sea of gold and navy blue gowns, heading towards the person. When she finally reached him, he was facing away from her so she tugged on his gown’s sleeve. He sharply turned around and upon recognizing her, he wordlessly pulled her to him.

They embraced each other fiercely for an immeasurable amount of time, her head tucked into his chest. In that moment, Lilly didn’t care if her makeup got on his gown or that he was also sweaty as well. All she knew that in that very moment, both of them had shared something special together: that feeling of accomplishment when reaching a milestone.

They pulled away but still refused to let go of each other completely, their hands grasping onto each other’s forearms. After staring at one another in disbelief, only then fully registering that they had just graduated high school, they both began to laugh. 

Lilly let out a boisterous giggle while Rick just chuckled, a faint smile on his face while his broad shoulders shook. Their amusement died down eventually and they regarded each other with a look of understanding, recalling the previous night’s conversation.

“Onto something new?” He asked, and she nodded in confirmation.

“Onto something new.”

— — —

Well, there you go anon. Is Rikkard OOC here? You bet. I always imagine his younger self as being nicer like how Lady Samantha mentioned in SB before he left home. And yes, I know they could have been dating here or I could have gone with the whole “bad boy meets feisty girl” cliche. But I felt inspired to write something more realistic and coming-of-age despite being platonic. I hope I did this prompt some justice and that it wasn’t too terrible to read.

Sidenote: The dress code incident that was discussed was actually based off of a real-life event that a high school senior experienced in Charlotte, North Carolina back in spring 2017.

[taetae-tea]

Find You (Part I)

Part I --> Part 2  (will be uploaded)  

Genre: War!au, Jimin Rebel!au, Reader Revel!au, angst, fluff, smut (indicated the future)

Paring: JiminXreader

Word-count: 5.5K

Warnings: lost of parents, death, anxiety, 

Summary: The world has fallen down, people forced to go back to the country their ancestors lived, like your first love Jimin. It was only when your father disappeared from your sight, that you had nobody anymore. Will you be able to find your loved ones again? Or do you need to forget your own happiness and focus on the happiness of your folk? 

Authors note: I’m proud on this one lol, hope y'all enjoy!

Masterlist

'Dad run!' You yelled over do big and humid field. 

You are running, stumbling and scared to fall. Sweat is dripping down your forehead and your breath is very uneven. It all suddenly happened so fast, too fast if you'd ask. You look behind you for a second time, your father still behind and trying to help others like a true leader, still on this field what was once called you own cozy home, which is now being burned down to the ground by other camps and folks.

Women with kids are running, screaming and crying for help, men running to help the weaker ones, but they were not able to bring everyone, that could never happen since your encampment is quite big, at least 200 people living their life in little tents. 

Normally, around this time of the day, the sight would be looking seemly, almost appealing to your eyes. But still it was nothing compared to the earlier days, where people were living in ordinary boxy houses. It wasn't pleasant for the eyes, no, but it was secure between those thick walls.

Being secure, that hasn't been a matter for a long time already, somewhat over 10 years already. A lot has changed, countries and cultures turned their backs towards each other, only because one single thing that happened. It was like domino, the one land reacted on the other, racism became legal again and cultures moved towards their own.

That was only in a time spend of 5 years, the 2 years after that was even worse. Cultures began making their own little folks and broke apart, that also happened in your country. It all happened fast and you didn't had a lot of opportunities but than to follow your own leader, your father.

'DAD! QUICK THEY'RE COMING!' You yelled even louder, now becoming impatience and anxious. It's not the first time that your land has been invaded by different camps and your own camp was quite prepared for possible invasions. But this one was not just a normal camp, this is one of the more higher grounds, talking about the government of this unstable country. It's not fair, but you've learned to live with it. You've also learned that you need to do things on your own to survive, to make things on your own, because nobody is going to help you in this cruel world.

Your father isn't coming with you, you realize. This might be the last time you see your father, the last time you will see him being like the best leader you've ever witnessed. He is a man to lead his folk to a better place, caring and defending those who decide to follow him. It didn't take him long until people would follow him around 3 years ago. It took him only 2 months until he already had a group of 100 people and they were all true followers. He is an amazing person, someone one could learn from. He doesn't deserve to die, it's not fair. But then again, nothing is fair.

It's almost selfish to talk about your own misery when others have seen way worse things, you should be grateful. But how can you be greatfull as you see your own father, living the hardest life, trying but failing all in a few minutes. It's only when someone dragged you with him that you wake up from your own thoughts.

'(Y/n), we need to walk, now!' A older woman yelled as she dragged you with her to the jeeps. You try to struggle against her strong hold, wanting to take your father with you, for once saving him. He has always there for you, always protected you. You can't lose him, who are you without him? He has been the only confirmation of your existence. You would do anything for his safety. You would die for him, kill for him. But still you seem so weak against the grip of the older. What can you do? You're just 18 years old after all.

'FUCKING HELL ___, THE JEEBS ARE LEAVING.' The woman warns for the last time, now dragging you with her as you began to cry out loud, conflicted with what to do. You want to help him, take him with you, but you are too small against this world.

Your feet finally started moving towards the jeeps, heart pounding loudly into your ears. It didn't take you long until you were safely behind the walls of the jeep, still stressed looking around for any sign of your father, hoping he would still turn up.

Then the Motors started, no sign, not a single word of your father being hurt or sad. No good-byes. No I-Will-survive. Nothing. You have no security around you, everything is running around you with panic. You almost become dizzy as you now realize, you won't see your father ever again. These jeeps will take you to another place, hidden from any searching eyes. He will not know where it is, since the place will get decided the moment we see it. He won't be able to find it, you, his people.

But then suddenly, as you look in the distance, he comes running with a girl hanging over his shoulder. He is running so fast, knowing that the invaders are right behind him to shoot him to death. It's just a matter of location and time that he will get shot, but the chance is still pretty big. You know this will be his end, so you look away for a split second, scared that you will see his death right in front of your eyes. You try to cool yourself down, counting to 10, but you weren't even at 4 when the car started its way to an unknown land.

It's at that moments when you fix your gaze back on tour father who is now standing still, watching the jeeps making their way out of the battle field. He seems to look for something, desperately. You know it's you, so you open a window and waved at him, trying to get his attention as fast as possibly. He sees you and he calms down, nodding at you as he stoke his fist in the air as a symbol. It's the symbol of justice to all who want peace, it's the one your camp uses too. You returned the symbol, yelling a good bye before you were forced to sit back on your place. Your gaze stayed on your father, memorizing everything of him, his features, his flaws. You won’t see him, not for now and maybe never. But on that moment you had sworn to yourself that you are going to find him, if he was alive.

‘(y/n)! Come look here! This painting is so beautiful!’ You hear Jimin taunt at the other side of the great hall, wiggling from the one to the other leg out of excitement. You’d turned to look at the big smile, chubby cheeks and moony eyes. You have always loved museum, even when you were around the age of 7. It was always a party when the school would be on e trip and take you to new places to see. You could never hide the sprinkle in your eyes when you heard the news and shot up from happiness. Jimin, your best friend at the time, was like your brother from another mother. You had the same interests, same way of doing and being. You’d be proud to call him your friend.

You hop to him, smiling widely as you look at the immense big painting hanging on the wall. The painting presented a field, tents spread on it. It looked joyful to you, seeing the people on the field made you question why you didn’t live that life. You practically have already everything that you need, but why didn’t you look as happy like the people on the painting?

It was only a thought of a child, a thought that wasn’t important. You soon would realize it wasn’t important, being only 1 year older until you would fall into a big black hole of terror.

‘I WILL FIND YOU AGAIN, ___, I WILL NEVER STOP LOOKING UNTILL I FIND YOU.’

‘Isn’t it cool?’ Jimin sighs as he puts an arm around you, secure, making you giggle softly as you feel embarrassed. You’d hold your hands on your cheeks to hide the redness. He, Jimin, was your first real love. Even though it was just an innocent child’s love, it was still the only kind of romance you’ve ever felt and you treasured those feelings. You’ve never seen him after he disappeared along with his parents 2 years later. It hunted your dreams for many years. Where did they go? Will you ever be able to find him again? Because if you mis someone as much as you mis your father, it’s Jimin.

You’re now, looking at the same painting. You aren’t anywhere near the museum, it’s actually some great distance away, since you’re now in another country. It’s not on a phone, not a picture. No. It’s standing in the corner of your tent. It still allures you, the way this painting is painted. It’s like nothing is wrong, everything is okay, while in reality everything is so wrong. Now that you’re living the painting, you just want to fall back to your old lifestyle. You could say that it’s karma for wishing something that isn’t that great, but how can you blame a 7 year old? But still, you like the painting. It reminds you of good times, something that isn’t very major in your life.

‘Miss, you need to go right now.’

Your second hand suddenly ran inside your tent. You almost panic at the hasty words, thinking that there might be another invasion. The last one happened when your father disappeared out of your sight and nothing has occurred for the past 2 years. You’ve seemed to have chosen a good spot on this world as the new leader. It’s between mountains, in the shadow of two great hills. It was first too messy to be able to walk through the thick woods, but after 3 weeks of hard work, your people managed to make a living between the trees. It’s nice here, you can’t be seen here, so that’s why you were kinda confused to why your second hand came crashing in like that. An invasion wouldn’t be the issue for sure.

‘Calm down Jackson, talk slowly.’ You try to calm his breath and he eventually did. He always rushes through his words, since he sometimes just panics. He normally is a really cool and humorous guy, but when something seems to go wrong, all bells seems to go off inside his head. He is cute though, also since he the only asian guy inside the group. Though there were a lot of protests first from the people’s side, you still insisted on keeping him. It wasn’t because you pitied him, not at all. He had been wandering through the woods, wounded and scared when he found your camp, asking for help. Though your group stand for justice, they still don’t trust the outside world.

They brought him to your tent, saying he had intruded ‘our’ land and wanted to kill him. But when you heard he was from Korea, your ears suddenly perked up. Korea is one of the most rebellious country, resisting to the way the world has been managed. That meant that Koreans are the less most dangerous people, for you. You’ve tried a lot of things already, to get into their country, wanting to show your mercy to them. You want your people to be save and in a country like South-Korea, was the best way.

But, like your people, they didn’t trust you. That meant that you needed to win their trust over. It left you with a question, what is the best way on winning their trust? That’s how you came to this place, between mountains and close to Korea, waiting for an idea. It’s also the reason why you let Jackson in your camp, you may need him in the future, when the time is ripe.

‘Were you again looking at the painting?’ He asks, still panting but curious to why you always stare at the painting. He found you doing that a lot lately, after the moment when you found the painting. It was weird to him, since you’ve never showed interest towards other artworks. ‘Does it relax you in some way?’

‘Yeah, something like that.’ You shrug, now getting off the ground to get your stuff, packing your back for whatever is about to come. Though he is a bit clumsy and funny, he still is one of the closer people to you. He is a great friend and supporter, he will never leave your side. He reminds you of Jimin, the liveliness of them both are on the same hight. ‘So what’s up, Jackson?’

‘Oh! Yeah, sorry, my mind drifted off. So, we found a way to maybe enter South-Korea.’ He announced excitingly and you suddenly couldn’t do anything but to smile. It feels as such a relieve to you, finally being able to reach your goal. You’ve really tried anything, from learning Korean to telling them all the stories you’ve went trough, showing how great your hate for this system is. But nothing could crack them, they held there posture strict and in just a single heartbeat, you were outside again. So, even though you feel relieved, still something in the back of your mind says otherwise.

‘Are you sure that this will work?’ You ask, now turning around with your backpack hanging over your shoulder. He nods, smiling at you as he offers to take the heavy bag, but your refused. You’ve always refused, taking others help. You’ve learned that you need to become strong on your own. It’s the one thing you’ve missed during the time you grew up in this humble town. You're now stronger than you were 2 years ago, but improvement can never hurt.

'They actually came to us. They said that they now can see if you're lying or not.' He explains.

'So like a lie detector?'

He nods, somewhat happy that there finally might be an uppertunity for him to go back into his own country. He very much wanted to go back, it's his home land. But the country is surrounded by furious other camps who could be as rough as killer machine. It's terrifying and a lonely tresspaser wouldn't survive the inhuman rase. So that's why he decided to just walk the other way, to find something close to happiness. Then he saw your camp. To him, it looked peacefull. Childeren playing around, women laughing and chatting and the guys sharpening some nifes to protect their own. It's nice and something unfamiliar, never has a camp been this peacefull.

'And they're going to test me?' You cock an eyebrow, not really believing that they would let in a whole different camp, based on a simple machine, it's rare. They've been trying to keep others out for ages already, and now they think this is a good idea?

'Yeah of course, you're the leader of this folk, you're the one responsible. I will be by your side the whole time, to help you out with the language.'

You nod. You're going to do this, if there might be just one chance for you to get into that land, you will hold on to it as tightly as possible. You've been waiting for an opportunity for so long already, but now that it's finally here was somewhat weird. Also since the task is that easy.

You got out of your tent, Jackson following your steps as you walk towards one of the jeeps. The car is already waiting for you, a driver on his seat and looking quite familiar. As you approach the vehicle, you see a person you know very well. It's Marius, a very old friend and trustworthy follower of your father and now you. He was one of the most best men in your little defending system. He knew how to slit a throat, but he also knows how the games work. If it wasn't for you father, he would've been the leader of the camp. After your father disappeared, you had insisted for him to take the place, but he didn't want to take the title from you. You are the child of the leader, no one could have a mindset as close to your father than you.

'Hey! Are you driving?' You ask as a smile appeared on your face and he nodded with a small smile. It doesn't get better than this, believe me. When his wife died 3 years ago, he didn't shed one tear. He was dead silent, anger graving up into him and making him the man he is today. Closed to the world, silent. He could only make a poker face or a small smile. You thought that it must be from the shock from the things that happened in his life, so you let him be. He has his own problems, just like you have and you are not the one to have any input in his life.

'They are on the other side of the mountain, a helicopter there is ready for us.' Marius informs. You nod and walked around to get next to his seat, Jackson in the back. He immediately began the engine and drifted off, because you could never be too early when it's about these matters.

The ride towards the helicopter didn't took Marius very long, only 15 minutes went by to get there. You've actually never been to this side of the mountain. You actually never go beyond the boundaries of your land, knowing that it's far too dangerous for a 20 year old creeping around in the deep forest. Though you've learned how to defend yourself properly by the little fighters out of your camp, a woman is nothing against the big an powerful men. It's not sexism, it's logic.

'Are you okay?___'

Marius notices the way you anxiously look around. You focus your gaze to him, shaking your head as you feel yourself getting real scared. What if it's a trap? What if there is a whole army waiting right behind those trees. You can't seem to imagine that the Koreans just suddenly let you into their nation, not a single good reason being said.

'I'm with you, don't worry too much.' He lays his hand onto your knee, giving it a slight pinch in a comforting way. You let out a sigh, trying to get yourself calm, but you know that you will be far from relaxed for the next upcoming few hours.

You arrive at the field and to your surprise, the helicopter with a few soldiers were surrounding the vehicle. You didn’t thought that they could be there this quick and secondly, they don’t seem as if they’re willing to hurt you right now. They actually don't do anything, no greetings, no gentle nod. It gives you the chills as you thought back to all those other times you went to the foreign land. They were never once heartwarming to you, actually quite scary and unreadable. 

Marius turned off the car as soon as you approached the helicopter and the three of you got out of the jeep. The cold air hit your face and suddenly the wind turned up a few stages. It's different than the field where you live, it's all a bit more lifeless. It suits the situation, cold and anticipation hanging in the air. 

'Hello, you will be taking us right?' You ask and the soldier, where you'd focused on, nodded his head. He lead the three of you to the helicopter, making fast work on getting you buckled up and to fly off.

It's somewhat an experience, a helicopter. When the motor started and the vehicle began to get its feet off the ground, your heartbeat quickened. cold air now filled the air around you as well, combined of the sweet scent of the forest.

As you fly away, you can see a little bit from your field with your camp. Everyone is seemingly okay. You can see the children still running around as always and the older ones working on their own place. You’ve always admired that about your camp. It must be the way your father taught others to live, he did the same to you. He never forbid others to have fun, to make their own little living. It’s different from most camps, you’d soon realized after 6 years in the war. The most would train, learn and double that twice. It’s the opposite of your little folk and it didn’t bother you even a little bit. Of course, you have a few soldiers, 50 in total, but they are free to do what they want to. In your camp people really care for each other and that’s why the soldiers always trained at least 2 hours every day on their own, to protect their loved ones, which is practically the whole camp. Everyone knows each other, it’s like one big family.

You suddenly feel warmth creeping up your cold hand, making you look to your side, Jackson shows you a tender smile, before returning his gaze outside. He kept his hands into yours and soothed the temples with his tump. You smile to yourself as you look outside yourself too. He always seems to keep an eye on you when you were acting nervous. It’s good to have a friend like Jackson, somewhat refreshing from the different-aged men and women around the field.

It was a long flight, you decided. It was an interesting one though, seeing all different kinds of places and people walking right under your noses. It’s almost something unthinkable in the world where you’re living in, but you can’t stop getting interested in other cultures. It’s really a shame everything turned out so wrong, because now you could only see these people by looking through the save glasses of the helicopter.

‘We reached our destination, get ready to land.’ A voice rang through the headphones. You held onto Jackson’s hand with a little more power, adrenaline running through your veins. You could hear him hiss, but he kept your hand in his, never leaving your side any moment. It’s when you were finally save on the ground that you let go of his hand, seeing how it almost became blue.

‘Oh god sorry.’ You breathlessly laugh, trying to sooth his skin, but suddenly got pulled out of your seat. You almost began to struggle against the two taller man, an automatic reflection when you get dragged along. You try to find their faces, but the both of them kept a stern gaze forward, not bothering to spear you a glance and dragged you with them. You tried to find the ground with your feet and that eventually worked, trying to keep up with the pace of the two man. You glance behind you, trying to find the eyes of Jackson or Marius, but the both of them weren’t anywhere to be seen.

Then the anxiety kicked in again. You knew it. You knew that this was a trap. They just wanted to murder you at the end and you didn’t even got to say goodbye. 

But then again, to who? There is no one to say goodbye to anymore. Not to your father, not to your mother, not to Jimin. The important people in your life aren’t here and it somehow made you feel empty. All this time you’ve tried to keep your folk happy, when at the end, you haven’t even found your own happiness.

The two man brought you into a big building, looking awfully much like a military base. The building looks somewhat impressive and scary. There aren’t any colors or any sign of playfulness on this building. It’s unlike you and knowing that this will be your death, makes you even more empty. It’s as if you failed life at this point. You couldn’t even make a good end onto your own life. You’d always hoped you would die with family, friends and loved ones, still keeping your heart warm. But now you were going to die at some big ass building with not a single feeling attached to it.

They walked you through the entrance of the building. You scanned the interior, seeming just as lifeless as the outside. Though now people were walking around, doctor's coats or soldier’s one-pieces. They all didn’t bother to look at you, as if nothing bad is about to happen. Maybe you were wrong, maybe nothing is going to happen. But then the force of their hold on you wouldn’t make any sense. It’s confusing, but any other choice right now isn’t anywhere in sight.

After they walked you down a few different hallways, you ended up in a wait-room. They forced you to sit down and then took a few steps back, just keeping an eye on you while also waiting for something. You’re not sure what, but your intellect tells you two things. One, you’re waiting to beheaded. Two: you’re actually going to do that test.

The wait took terribly long and you were struggling to keep your eyes open some of the times. Normally you would be wide-eyed, waiting for your turn, but it’s different when the wait is taking 5 hours. Your mind often drifts away from reality, thinking back to your father and mother, still happily living together. You thought about the long night-walks you had with your father from the age of 5 until 2 years ago. He never failed to take you out once in a weak, waking you up in the middle of the night to drag you out of your little comfortable bed. You’d walk outside, hand in hand and looking up into the sky. The stars always come out so beautiful and peaceful to you, unlike this boxy place.

‘___, you may come in now.’

The sudden voice pierced through the room, heart racing again. You stand up quickly, walking up to the man who is standing in the doorway, waiting for you to come in. The room on the other side of the walls wasn’t much better than any other room in the gigantic building. Plain, boring. There was a little table in the middle of the room, a machine placed on the middle of the wooden table and a guy sitting on the chair opposite of your side. It’s the lie-detector, you think while looking at the pads with strings attached to it, they’re no going to kill you. It’s a relieve, but now the worries of these questions sprinkled into your nerves.

‘Hello ___, please come and sit on the opposite seat.’

And so you did, not hesitating one bit. When you were seated, the guy began attaching all these stickers you noticed easier onto your head and pulse. It must look horrible, you think. Like some over-dramatic police series, detectives trying all kinds of ways to force the truth out some innocent person. 

‘So now, we will just give you a few questions. This will take around 30 minutes. Good luck.’

It was a small introduction, but it got your nerves up to a perfect 100. You don’t know what to think, no security around you. You hate that, when nothing is secure, unsuspectable. You need something you can hold onto in this world, which was first your father, but now no one. In times like these you really could use a caring hand from him, to remind you of who you are and how strong you are as an individual. But now you need to take things on your own and you’re going to try your best, to save your people from the almost terroristic folks who can pull a trigger against your heat easily.

‘Who are you?’

‘___, 20 years old and the chief from my camp.’

‘Why do you want to join our nation?’

‘It’s for the safety for my people and justice for the reunion of all the cultures.’

It’s going well. You don’t stutter, you’re stayed calm. It’s as if, when you need yourself to be a real leader, your body fully transformates into something so greatly individual. 

‘That was it, the 30 minutes are over. You’ll have to hear from us tomorrow if you will be selected to merge into our nation.’ He nods at you to go out, so you simply did, giving him a small smile out of politeness, though you didn’t receive any politeness back. I’ll get used to it, you think and hope.

Once you stood outside, you let out a loud sigh. Everything suddenly went so fast that you needed to blow off some steam, to relax yourself.

You look around you, looking for the guards who took you, but there were no signal of them anymore. That’s when you remember you heard a vague sound of an alarm, probably for the soldiers to gather. Whatever the reason was, it wasn’t too important, since you got kept in that room. You also didn’t see any other contributors walking around. You decided to just start walking, thinking that you will eventually find your way out.

Well, that was false hope, because the exit was no where in sight. This building is too big for its own good, you thought and kept walking around. Then you saw two big doors, light shining into the building from the other side of the doors, looking awfully much like an entrance or exit. You almost ran to the two doors and yanked them open, only to be met with a balcony. You sigh, shaking your head out of disappointment and you wanted to turn around, but then heard a voice reaching your ears, sounding awfully close.

‘Lost your way?’

You whimper as you turn around, seeing a guy’s back facing you in the corner of the balcony. The guy is the same length as you, hair black from what you could see and a black suit clothing his well-shaped body. He has a certain vibe around him, a vibe just born leaders wear. It’s appealing, almost, you yourself getting interested in this newfound person. How did you not notice him standing there in the first place?

‘Yeah, I am... Could you maybe help me?’ It was a stupid excuse, but you somehow just wanted to keep talking to this mysterious but familiar person. Normally you wouldn’t dare to bother any of these people, not yet wanting to make any faults in this building.  

You hear him chuckle, nodding his head as he finally turned around, facing you.

And suddenly, the world slowed down. The blimp lips, the moony eyes. It can’t be him, right? You look into his eyes and he does the same. He seems to to the same thing as you, eyes widened and inspecting your features. He can’t believe that it’s you, he literally has been looking everywhere.It can’t be you, not in a million years. This world is too big for rare coincidences like these. 

‘Jimin?’

Then his emotions went lose. It’s for sure now, it’s you. You seem to have the same reaction as him and it confirms the situation. It’s like finding your soulmate, seeing you standing there. He has dreamed about this moment too often , as if he was constantly wishing for it to happen, but it never did. Not, until today. 

‘Jimin.’ You sigh, tears now forming in the corners of your eyes and you see the same reaction into his, now both really realizing you’ve found one another. The both of you made no time in getting closer to one another and hugging him tight against you, not planning on letting go any time soon. His scent flew into your nostrils and it smells so familiar, like the JImin from back in the days. You’ve missed him so much, you realize, even more than you already assumed.

‘Fuck ___, how in the world…’

He pushed you back slightly, trying to find your eyes. He smiles down at you, hand coming up to cup your cheek. He pushed his forehead against yours lovingly, showing you how much he missed you too.

‘I love you so much, I’ll never let you go after this. This fucked up system is never going to separate us again.’

A/N: So normally I would ask if y'all want another part, but idc anymore, I love to write this story a bit too much hehe :))

Masterlist

[justaprettyshitstory]

For As Long As The Sky Is Blue- #12

AN- okay ugh this didn’t post yesterday because internet problems blah blah blah, also i had to finish this in a rush so like sorry

number in series- 12

warnings- abuse mentions

word count- 2470

from the writings of Blue Ardence

Ronald Clarence was the only child of the master and mistress of the household, and after how he turned out, I’m not surprised that they had no children after him. He was a spoilt little boy, having grown up in the lap of luxury, and had begun to believe that since his parents were able to get him anything, then everything must belong to him. Of course, as a young child this way of thinking started out small, thinking that all the toys that he saw, were his already, that he deserved the toys, because he was so much better than the other people, so much richer, so much mightier. He grew up in silk pyjamas, and an army of servants to cater to his every need. Growing up, he wasn’t surrounded by many children his age, home-schooled and raised to take over his father’s business; there wasn’t much room in his life for playdates. However, I am in no way using these instances as an excuse for his actions, he grew up to be a despicable human, a psychopath. the first time that he was to come into close contact with a child his age, was when he caught me running from my father when I was five years old. At this time, he was eight, and fascinated, and obsessed with the idea of another child joining him in the expansive grounds of the mansion, but I soon discovered that his interest in me was not one of friendship, but a compulsive need to torture me in every way imaginable, as now, he had a new toy to play with, and he was desperate to see how it worked. He didn’t have much opportunity when I was younger as I was constantly climbing chimneys, he settled for pulling my hair, making fun of my appearance, calling me names, pinches, things that the observant servants would titter about, dubbing it to be, ‘normal’ child behaviour. However, suddenly, Ronald discovered that I was now part of his staff, a kitchen hand. That’s when his taunts moved to a whole new level, I remember his pinches and hair pulling becoming harder, in the beginning, and then he began to appear all over the place. He would show up while I worked, yell at me, taunt me, kick over buckets of water I was using so that I would have to refill them and lug them back to my position. He moved on to using his position to abuse me, calling me to do the worst jobs in the manor, so that he could snicker at me behind my back, but slowly the tricks got worse. He believed, as he had with his toys when he was younger, that I should ‘belong’ to him, in a sense, so he could do whatever he liked to me. He sent people to follow me, to trip me over, push me down short flights of steps, ruin all my work so that I would get in trouble with the vulture, all without getting his own hands dirty. I think that even at thirteen, he relished in seeing me cry. Because of this, and because of my parents, I had grown to develop a strong distrust of anyone who paid too much attention to me, perceiving them as a threat, and so of course, it was no difference with tom.

I held him, in the muggy summer evening, by the ear, shaking him slightly as I glared at him, unwilling to let myself believe that he was there purely innocently, until I had proof. “It’s Tom! Alright? It’s Tom! From the circus remember? I gave you the cotton candy!” He winced, and reached up to pull my hand off him, and backed up a couple of feet, rubbing his ear reproachfully. “What’s your deal? Why are you following me? Was it Ronald? Did he send you?” I’d made several threatening steps forward, my hand raised, ready to defend myself, causing him to stumble backwards until he hit the edge of the fountain. He raised his hands quickly in defence, eyeing my hand cautiously. “No! I told you! I don’t know who this Ronald fellow is! I’m sorry!” I continued to advance towards him, my eyes flicking over him as I did so. He had changed from his costume in the show, and was back in his baggy trousers and cap, but now I could see the details of his face, a pale one with large blue eyes, and hundreds, no, thousands of brown freckles covering his face, over the bridge of his nose and his cheeks and forehead, framed with light orange curls that hung around his ears, damp with sweat. “You swear?” I began to lower my hand, calming down enough to see clearly, this would have been a stretch even for Ronald, to find a random person from a show I may or may not go to, to find me, if I were even there, and to then follow me. I began to blush, embarrassed at my overreaction, but I was still unwilling to back down. “yes! I swear! Cross my heart and swear to die, see?” he lowered one of his hands to make a cross over his heart. I dropped my hand, satisfied, but not entirely calm yet. “Fine. Why were you following me then? Huh? I know you were!” I cross my arms and glare at him. I’d heard that my ‘death stare’ as rose put it, could be so haunting that it would literally make people drop things from sheer fright. It appeared to be having the desired effect on Tom, who had begun to twist his hands together, as a blush rose on his cheeks. He spoke very fast, his eyes flickering around the square to avoid looking at me. Apparently, he had simply been curious about me, the pretty girl who had never had cotton candy before, and he was only going to follow me for a little bit, but then he was curious about where I was going and i-was-very-pretty-anyway-and-don’t-pinch-my-ear-again-that-really-hurt, (he had said that bit very fast), and he was going to talk to me, but had been too nervous to try. I considered him for a moment longer, as his entire face slowly turned the colour of beetroot, even his ears tinging pink. He looked so awkward and embarrassed that eventually I stopped glaring enough to giggle at him, before softly apologizing, realising my over reaction, and told him I’d just been a little jumpy, and thought he was someone else. He shrugged it off shyly, his cheeks still red. “It’s okay, it was my fault anyway, I shouldn’t have followed you.” We had stood their awkwardly for another minute, both avoiding each other’s eyes sheepishly, before I had broken the silence: “Want to sit?” And so, we had sat, the thin boy with scarred lips, and the shy girl with fingernail imprints on her face, being lightly sprayed by the fountain in the humid evening air, our legs swinging against the base. “So, who is this Ronald fellow?” he glanced at me quickly as he asked, as though he were concerned about my reaction. I shrugged, and stared at the wall across from me, counting all the bricks on the top row. “He’s the son of the master and mistress in the house where I work, he likes to mess with me, I thought maybe he sent you to trick me or something, it was stupid.” “Nah.” I glanced at him, while he kicked at the ground. “I’d think the same thing if someone was following me, I mean, I’d think it was someone from my troupe that is, not, not Ronald.” I’d smiled a little. “you did great out there tonight by the way.” I’d told him, leaning over to nudge him in the shoulder, with mine. His grin was infectious, and soon we were both smiling much wider than before. “you really liked it? you looked kinda, sad, while you were watching it was the thing, so I thought you weren’t enjoying it.” I paused, and looked at him, and noticed that his nose crinkled when he smiled, and he had little dimples near his scars. “No, I did! I liked it really, it was just, you didn’t look happy while you were doing it, like your smile wasn’t real, kinda like this, see?” I demonstrated, putting on my best ‘please don’t hit me, I’m sorry’ smile.   “You’re pretty good at that.” He’d told me, pushing his hair out of his face. “I liked the skit, I think it was funny, it just hurt a bit, that was all, but I’m used to it.” I’d asked what he meant, and that was when I found out about what life was like for him in the circus. He was sold into the troupe when he was three, so that his parents could pay off some debts, and from there, he had been taken into the care of the acrobats. He recalled being ‘bent backwards’ forcefully by the men, so that he would be flexible enough to preform, his legs and arms stretched in different directions and positions, and that he was hardly fed, so that he would be light enough to be thrown around; all of which he told me, were completely necessary, so that he could perform; at least that was what he was told.   But because he wasn’t one of the major acts, he wouldn’t have been missed, if he were to suddenly go missing because of one of the more violent acts lost their temper, so he was constantly on his toes, staying out of trouble so he wasn’t hurt, or beaten as much, taking his training and tiny meals without complaint, doing everything he could to stay out of trouble, under the radar. He didn’t even complain when he was refused entry to any of the caravans when they were on the road, and was made to run behind them. so that he wasn’t left behind, one of the dancers threw him a rope, which he tied around his middle and ran behind, and when he got tired, just let it drag him along the bumpy road. “I get that.” I’d told him, staring at the wall again. “I told you a little lie before, about my family. I do have parents, but they don’t really act like parents. My friend Rose reads me books, and the parents in those never act the way mine do, I don’t think they ever wanted to be my parents anyway, so its easier to pretend they don’t exist sometimes.” “do they hit you?” he was looking at me properly now, not glancing at me out of the side of his eyes, but staring intently at my face, his wide eyes unblinking. “They broke my toes once, see?” I kicked off my shoes, so he could look at my crookedly set toes, and we stared at them in silence. “what happened to your lips?” He'd stayed silent, staring at my toes, then shrugged, his mouth curved downwards. “I told you about my toes, tell me about your lips!” I nudged him again in the shoulder, and he rocked to the side a few times, eyes still on the ground, and it was a few moments before he answered, slowly, like the words didn’t want to come. “when I was small, there was a technique called ‘smile therapy’ that was supposed to… trick your face into smiling, I guess. It was these metal clips that wrapped around my head like this,” he twirled his hand behind his head, from the side of his mouth, behind his ears to the other side. “they pulled your mouth up so you were smiling, I cried a lot back then so they thought this way I’d always smile, but one day the clips slipped a little bit. They were too tight I guess, but now it always looks like I’m smiling, so I suppose it worked.” I was silent for a moment, and the two of us stared down at the ground. “I’m sorry.” “It’s ok.” The conversation was sad, and filled with gaps, and silences, but for the first time, I remember feeling strangely at peace as we talked, like I wasn’t tiptoeing around words, or living in fear I was going to say something wrong, and get hurt. We were just two sad kids, staring at the bricks, joined in that moment in our similar destructive lives, like we had found our pair at last. “I don’t know your name yet,” he’d commented, leaning back so that the water spray could cool down his face. “Don’t have one.” “What?!” he spun around and shoved me playfully in the shoulder, “Course you do, stop kidding around.” “Do not! Well, Rose calls me ‘sweetie’ But everyone else just calls me ‘dumb bitch’ so maybe that’s what it is, I don’t know.” “Bitch? Nah it can’t be, that’s one of those bad words.” He paused like he was in deep thought. “Well you can’t just go through life without a name. We gotta come up with one.” I’d giggled at the serious look on his face, and turned so that we were fully facing one another. “Well what would you call me? I’m no good with coming up with things.” “Well… it’s gotta be something that reflects who you are, right?” I’d laughed again, watching his brows furrow as he continued to consider me. “You look so.. Blue all the time, so I think you need a name that matches your sad eyes, you know?” Maybe it was the fountain gushing close by, maybe it was the heat playing on my mind, but I could have sworn that he had suggested ‘Blue’ as a name to match my sad eyes, and I had thought it was the funniest thing I had ever heard, and asked if he thought I should be named Blue. And then to my surprise, he stared at me for a long time, and smiled that crooked smile, that made his nose crinkle and his dimples appear and said, “Actually, I think that would be a great name for you! Because Blue is my favourite colour, because it can be such a beautiful colour, while being a sad colour too, and a happy one, like you!” and he’d smiled so much, and it had been such a pretty smile, that I had told him that I loved the name, just so he would smile again. And so that night, under the fountain, while I swung my bare feet over the cobblestones, and a little boy with orange hair and purple scars, I got my first ever name, and even now, I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

[sonboyadam]

Written for pynchweek Day 5: Northern Lights // Dreamscape // Stars

Adam wakes up to someone pressing their lips to his forehead, so gentle and caring that makes his heart stutter a bit, still not used to be treated as someone worthy of such precious gestures. Those same lips brush against his cheek, then decide to move to his nose, his jaw, and below his ear. Adam leans into the touch, letting the warmth of it soak him with the fondness it radiates. 

His eyes flicker open, and he finds Ronan sitting at the edge of the bed. The light coming through the window hits him in a way that makes him look like a dream. 

“Why are you up?” Adam mumbles as he closes his eyes again, curling on himself. 

“I have something to show you.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

Adam groans and rolls to have his back facing Ronan, burying his face into the pillow.

Ronan doesn’t frequently wake him up so the fact that he’s doing it, makes him a little curious. But not enough to leave bed. 

He sighs heavily, happy to welcome sleep one more time when Ronan starts poking at his sides repeatedly. Adam doesn’t know if to whine or bite his tongue to keep the giggles forming in the back of his throat from escaping. The last thing he wants is to have Ronan finding out how ticklish he actually is.

“Parrish. Parrish. Wake up.”

Adam allows him to keep pestering for a little while, hoping he will relent soon. But it’s Ronan Lynch he’s talking about, who fights with everything he has and doesn’t know the concept of giving up. 

With a grumbling noise, he shakes the last bit of sleep he has off him and moves to pull Ronan on top of him. 

“You are annoying.”                        

Ronan grins in response. Adam kisses him to erase that smug expression on his face—the one which Adam will never admit he secretly adores. 

“So what is it?” he says after they break apart, still close enough to feel each other’s breath. Ronan joins their lips together in a short quick peck and dips his head to kiss his neck, right there where his pulse is stronger. Adam’s head goes dizzy. 

When Ronan speaks again, he does it with a low voice, close to his good ear. “You remember the—”

Adam’s stomach growls, breaking into the calm and quietness of the moment. The corners of Ronan’s mouth quirk up. “Guess we’ll have breakfast first.”

Before he can protest, Ronan takes his hand to pull him out of the bed, and kisses his cheek. 

Adam lets himself be led to the kitchen. 

***

The chilly winter air hits him as soon as they step out of the house. He’s still wearing his pajamas under Ronan’s leather jacket, and it’s not enough to keep his face and hands from feeling cold. 

He has his eyes covered by Ronan’s hands, who’s walking them both through the fields of the Barns. Like that, his other senses enhance. He can smell the fresh grass and humid wood, Ronan’s scent all around him, his expensive deodorant and the mint of the toothpaste. He can hear the chirping of the birds, the movement of the cattle, the soft howling of the wind. There’s also some vulnerability on this, on trusting someone to guide him blindly. But that feeling doesn’t make him suffocate as it usually does. Not with Ronan. 

When he finally makes them stop, the creak of the entrance makes a noise, and they move some more steps forward. The place is warm and humid, and Adam can guess where Ronan has taken him in a couple of seconds. 

“Okay, ready?”

“Mhm.”

“You sure?” Adam recognizes that tone of voice, which is usually accompanied by a mischievous smirk, white teeth displaying. And Adam is not so sure anymore. Because even if they are dating, Ronan is still a jerk, he’s just a soft jerk around Adam.

“Ronan, I swear, if it’s some weird prank—” 

“It’s not.”

Adam’s shoulders drop. “Okay.”

He has to blink several times to focus his vision, and for a moment he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to look at, until two black bundles of fur, lying on a blue cozy blanket, let out tiny bleats, catching his attention instantly.

“Oh my god.” He twists his head to look at Ronan, eyes widening. “Ronan. Oh my god.”

Ronan’s lip curve slightly, trying not to show his own excitement, but there’s a glint in his eyes that he can’t hide.

He beckons at Adam, expectant. “Well, go ahead.”

Adam kneels, now a little hesitant, extending his hand to one of the newborn goats, the tiniest one with a white spot on its loin. When the animal does not react negatively, Adam gets closer to caress it, running his fingers dedicatedly through it. The second goat decides to inspect Adam too, walking with shaky legs around Adam, sniffing until it decides he’s not a threat and snuggles against his leg.

“When did this happen?” Adam asks, using now both of his hands to pet them.

“At night.”

“What were you doing here? You didn’t sleep?”

Ronan rolls his eyes at him. “I saw them this morning. You’re the lazy one who wakes up this late.”

Adam rolls his eyes back but doesn’t reply. He is aware he wouldn’t have noticed Ronan leaving the bed at early morning, because Adam has slept through the worst noise at Nino’s, through most of Ronan and Blue’s arguments, and obnoxious loud fights between Aglionby boys, completely undisturbed. 

The goat with the spot bleats and tries to claim Adam’s lap, so he helps it by scooping it up in his arms. The sibling nuzzles its muzzle against him. 

“God, they are cute. Got any names yet?”

“I was thinking Hatchet and Pike.”

Adam snorts out a laugh. “You’re hopeless.” 

Ronan sits down in front of him. The smile hasn’t erased from his face since the moment they left the bed, Adam feels vain knowing that it’s the sort of smile Ronan keeps hidden from most people, but somehow, it always comes so easy for him when he’s with Adam. 

Ronan moves closer, putting their foreheads together, careful not to bother the goat on Adam’s lap. “So we have hopeless and annoying. Anything else you want to add on your list?”

“Yes, actually,” Adam says, and starts punctuating each word with his lips. “Idiot.” A kiss on Ronan’s jaw. ”Asshole.” A kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Impossible,” Adam breathes out, mildly brushing his lips over Ronan’s. 

Ronan cups Adam’s cheeks to keep him in place and returns the kiss, slow and lingering. They stay like that for a while, savoring each touch as if they had all the time in the world, as if there is nothing else to worry about than them. But then, Ronan’s fingers dig into his hair, deepening the kiss, pressing closer and closer.

They jump away at the sound of one of the goat’s bleat, returning them to the present time.

“Sorry, kids,” Ronan says and scratches the goat on Adam’s lap behind the ears. Ronan’s lips are swollen, eyes glowing with joy. “So, come on Parrish. Name suggestions. The one you have there is a female.”

Adam’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want me to name them?”

“Well, since my names don’t seem good enough for you.” He meets his gaze, face softening as he replies, “Yeah. One, though. Opal wants to name the buckling.”

“Oh.” 

It’s not a big deal, Adam knows that, it’s just naming an animal. One of Ronan’s animals. And Ronan cares about his animals with entire dedication and incredibly fierce love. 

Not a big deal, at all.

Ronan tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “So…?”

“I—Yeah. I don’t know…” Adam averts his gaze, his heart jittery, thumping hard against his chest. The sight of Ronan Lynch—sunlight casting shadows across his face, eyelashes long and dark—is not helping either.

“I guess I want to name it Vega,” Adam speaks up after giving it some thought, gesturing at the small doeling, already sleeping soundly.

Ronan hums, slinging his arm around Adam’s waist. The other goat has already gotten up, sniffing the place, and trying to climb everything he sees. 

“Is there a reason behind that?” Ronan asks.

“Not really. I mean, it’s not anything meaningful. There was this book of constellations I found when I was in elementary school at the library. Vega is one of the brightest stars you can see from Earth. And I guess—I kinda liked that, because Vega is in the Lyra constellation, you know? which is actually pretty small. And at the time it was comforting to know that despite being in a small place in space, Vega is still the fifth brightest star, one of the first ones to be photographed after the sun.” Ronan is staring at him, his gaze holding something Adam can’t decipher. He tries not to blush under it, though. It’s not usual of Adam to ramble like that. He adds, “I don’t know, I guess is kinda stupid. But I like the name. So.”

Ronan doesn’t laugh, and instead kisses his temple, holds him close. “It’s not stupid. I like it.”

Adam sighs contently. You can find the meaning of that story if you search for it, but Adam is relieved that Ronan doesn’t say more about it. 

“So any plans?” Adam says.

“First of all, check frequently on the kids and the mom, make sure they are okay. Secondly, do all sort of farming shit—”

Adam scoffs.

“—And you being fucking relaxed for once in your life, without any frown lines between your brows. Finally, help you keep that smile on your face for the whole weekend.” Ronan tries for nonchalant, but the pink tinting his cheeks gives him away.

Adam stomach flutters. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds good.”

Adam carefully removes Vega from his lap, and settles her on the blanket, where her brother comes to rest beside her. 

He clutches at Ronan’s shirt as he lets his back fall against a pile of hay, pulling Ronan on top of him, dragging their mouths together for a deep kiss. 

Adam may have to return to his tied up schedule on Monday. Go to work, go to school, homework, study. But for now, he just focuses on Ronan’s warmth, and Ronan’s lips.

He has never felt more at peace.

[aventuramexicana]

My Holidays

I am almost exactly a month behind, so for the sake of preserving my sanity (and the sanity of anyone who dares read this) I will be discussing only the reasonably notable ones. 

12/17/16- Saturday I made my first attempt to catch sight of one of Las Posadas Navideñas. Posada is Spanish for lodging, and the Posadas Navideñas are 9 days of religious observance during which people act out Mary and Joseph’s search for shelter/lodging prior to the birth of Jesus. I’d heard that the Posadas were a treasured part of the Mexican cultural tradition, so I was anxious to see it. Typically, if there is something going on in the center you can hear it from several blocks away, so I figured that just by being out, I was bound to run into it. No such luck. Oh well, I knew I would have more opportunities. 12/19/16- Monday I went shopping in the Andador Turistico for gifts for myself. (How else am I supposed to expect to get what I want? Right?) Anyway, it is a long, narrow, tented off area that has just two walkways and three rows of stalls set up so that artisans can show off their wares.  On this day it was really lively with people from all different parts of Oaxaca showcasing the goods and crafts that came from each region . Everything was a little overpriced, which was to be expected seeing as the location has “tourist” right there in the name, but it was a trade-off because the vendors were also presenting their best stuff.     I had done some strategic planning and made a second attempt to catch a Posada and failed again. It was at this point that I started to get fairly nervous. I knew that I had just two more days to see it, before I would be flying back to the States and I didn’t want to go back knowing that I’d missed out on something that so powerfully represents Christmas to the Mexican people. 12/20/16- Tuesday I left my apartment at 9 a.m. with a bunch of errands in mind. I picked up some tortillas for breakfast and ate while I walked. The biggest hurdle for my day was getting my migraine medication, which it turns out, is no small challenge to locate in Mexico. I went to one of the largest pharmacies in the city center first, and from there was redirected to another that was much smaller but with great customer service. They didn’t actually have my medication in stock, either, but were kind enough to coordinate with a couple of other pharmacies to have it delivered. When all was said and done, I had 4 pills delivered by two different pharmacies, and each pill cost me approximately $17. Yikes. I was so grateful to the staff that I kept a smile on my face until I was nearly home, when finally let it sink in that I was in a serious bind. The trouble is that this medication is the only one I have been able to find that is generally effective for treating my migraines. Even at that, its success rate is dramatically improved if I take it and then immediately go to sleep. Which can be tricky, depending on the setting. There aren’t a lot of professional environments where it is acceptable to take a nap in a dark room during the middle of the day. Anyway, I kinda freaked out, considering that with 8 migraines (decent average estimate) at $17 per pill, I would be spending $136 per month. So in search of an alternative, I called Kaiser in San Jose and was given this whole ridiculous run-around, that ended with me leaving a message (and no returned phone call). I also called my general practitioner in Orange County, whose nurse told me he was all booked up and that my best bet would be to try Urgent Care. GREAAAT. I also made a trip to my gym to cover my next month’s membership dues (and avoid an overage fee), and to an internet cafe to print out my flight itinerary. Back at my apartment, I counted out the pesos I needed, and rang my landlady’s bell so that I could give her my rent money. I also wanted to ask her for a recommendation regarding what sort of transportation I should be looking into for the morning of my flight. Typically I would just walk out to the next major street and catch a taxi, but I knew that was not the best plan at 6 a.m..  Anyway, meeting with her led us to this charming interaction, which by now, most of you have seen on Facebook. 

Maria- Your boyfriend is very handsome.Me- Thank you! I think so too.Maria- Are you thinking about getting married? Me- No. Not really. Maria- You are still young. Me- Yes, and to be honest, it just doesn't matter much to me. Maria- *eyes lit up* Very progressive. I was never married and I never had children because I didn't have the desire. It is so nice to be an independent woman. Good for you! You modern woman! In the evening I went out to do some shopping and catch a Posada. I’d found this website that seemed to indicate (using an absurdly confusing platform) that the Posada was going to take place at 7 p.m. at a plaza just beyond the Andador Turistico. I felt prepared. Unfortunately I got caught up in my shopping and at 7 p.m. I was running through the streets, just blocks away from where it was supposed to be. I even ran through the Andador Turistico, looking like a maniac, with all of my dodging and weaving and still… nothing. I made my way back feeling completely exasperated. This left me with just one more day. So I stopped and asked a couple of young woman who were working the door to a restaurant right on the main street, and they said they weren’t sure but thought it was supposed to start at 7 p.m. at another church nearby. I did a quick cursory look, but knew that even if it had been there at 7, it likely would have moved by the time I got to it. One more chance. 12/21/16- Wednesday I got up early, got ready, and set out to make sure that I did not miss my last opportunity to see a Posada. My first stop was the Oaxaca Lending Library. I asked the librarian if she knew when/where the Posadas were happening and she suggested going to the Ministry of Tourism office to inquire there. I thanked her and took off, feeling much more confident.

I went to the office and the man who I first spoke with at the desk seemed stumped by my question, but another man working there jumped in and confidently told me that it would be at 6:00 in front of the Temple de Santo Domingo. Just to be sure, I verified “¿Seis en la Plaza de Santo Domingo?” and he said yes. I walked out feeling triumphant.

I ran a few more errands and then was back in the plaza by 5:30 p.m. because I was not about to take any chances and miss my opportunity to see a Posada before my flight back to the U.S.. By 5:45 p.m., I started to get a little nervous, as there was no identifiable group even beginning to form in the plaza. Still, I rationalized that Mexicans are late for everything, probably even their own celebrations. When 6 p.m. came around and still there was nothing, I felt exasperated and defeated.

I decided to wander over to the church right across the street to see if there was a board with events listed. Luckily for me their office was open, and the woman working their gladly told me that the Posada would be starting at 6:30 p.m. WHEW!

By 6:25 p.m., I could see that things were really getting underway. Several people walked out from the church with instruments, Maria and José were dressed and ready to go, and many churchgoers carried large candles that were made to look like flowers, and others, like me, were given lyrics to all of the songs. It was beautiful. Even the church itself looked particularly nice that night.

Before long we were off, parading down the street, singing songs. I didn’t know what to expect so it was really charming and kinda funny to me to watch participants run ahead, jump into buildings, and then do a call-and-response between the musicians and singers on either side of the door. This continued at every stop where Maria and José knocked to look for shelter. I thought it was cute, but what really sold me on the whole celebration was the candy-throwing. Both children and adults ran around like crazy trying to catch it and pick it up, and someone told me that getting a piece was considered good luck. As if that weren’t enough, some people dressed in uniforms ran out with giant trays of tortas, whistled to the crowd, and tons of participants and viewers descended on them. It was awesome. I loved watching all of these people clamoring to get free food. Turns out, nobody needed to run, as there were trays upon trays of tortas, with more than enough to go around. I loved it. I followed them for about 40 minutes or so, and then decided to call it a night. They might have had the energy to go on for quite a while longer, but I had a plane to catch in the morning. 12/22/16- Thursday Got up at 5 a.m. to get ready for my day. Before I’d even gotten out of bed I watched a cockroach skitter across my bedroom floor. Damn. Killing it was not the way I wanted to start my day but it had to be done. 

My taxi driver picked me up at 5:45 a.m.. He was really sweet and talked to me about Donald Trump on the way to the airport. He said that he, and many others living in Oaxaca, are scared because so many of them have loved ones residing in the States without documentation. They fear what might happen to them once Trump steps into office. I wished there was something I could say to ease that fear, but I just couldn’t. So I told him I agreed, and said it scared me too. The view from the airport was beautiful. 

I caught a flight to Houston where I basically breezed through customs. As soon as I had my passport stamped and was on the other side it became distinctly clear to me that I was back on U.S. soil. Have you ever been somewhere reallyyy humid (the kind of humid that is thick and sticky)? You know that feeling when you’ve spent several hours indoors, in some nice air conditioned building, and you step outside and feel as though you’re stepping *SMACK* into a wall? That’s what it feels like coming back to the United States after being away for a while. The difference isn’t necessarily in the temperature, but it is definitely in the air. The atmosphere changes, and everything buzzes.  From Houston I caught a plane to LAX, where my mom was waiting to pick me up. She took a couple of pictures of me as I got off the escalator. Moms. The photos are terrible so I won’t be including them. Come on, I’d been traveling for like a bazillion hours, who looks fantastic after that? My mom took me home and we went through all of the stuff that I’d bought in Mexico (some 20-ish blouses, a couple of purses, a couple of belts, table cloths, etc.) She teased me about it all, but I stand by my answer to her question, “Do you really think you need this many blouses?”:  “This is all I want to wear for the rest of my life. Why would I ever wear normal clothes when I can wear art?” 

   12/23/16- Friday My mom took me to Urgent Care in a desperate attempt to find out a solution for my problem with accessing migraine medication. The very kind doctor there wrote me a prescription for my medication, and another for something not quite so strong, but much more affordable. She suggested that I try taking that one at the first sign of a migraine, in order to head it off. She also used an app that she had on her phone to find the best price on prescriptions and told me to try Costco. So off to Costco we went, and as miracles would have it, my medication was totally affordable there. Thank you, wonderful doctor! 

12/24/16- Saturday (Christmas Eve) I had a pretty lazy day, and spent a good chunk of it watching television, while my parents scrambled around the house, preparing for our turn as host the following, Christmas Day. That makes me sound like a total brat, but my mom has a delicate balance worked out, she wants help, but she also wants you to stay out of her way so she can get things done. I prefer to offer help once and then stay out of the way.

Probably could have benefited from moving around though, seeing as I was barely able to squeeze myself into my dress that evening. The same dress that I’d gotten tailored to fit perfectly about a month before I left for Mexico. I curse you, fresh delicious tortillas.

Christmas Eve dinner was at my uncle Sam’s house. He has been hosting Christmas Eve for years now and it is always a really large event because people come from his/our family and his wife’s, and both families are Catholic. It was great, and fun to be greeted in such a celebratory way. What did you all think was going to happen to me? I’m on social media like every damn day. That is just one of many ways to make sure I’m still alive and well. 

12/25/16- Sunday (Christmas Day)

My brother, Michael, his partner, Liz, and their son, Austin showed up early-ish in the day. Austin and I tried to teach ourselves how to do a coin flip thing that my dad taught me when I was a kid. You rest a coin on your elbow and then flip your hand down and catch it as it falls. The idea is to keep stacking coins higher on your elbow, even as they become more challenging to catch. I was never very good at it, and after many attempts, I was beginning to believe I would never be good at it.

This year’s Christmas celebration had a large turn-out so my mom gave people a window of time to come and eat, rather than setting a specific dinner time like she usually does. We had tamales, and all kinds of other food but the tamales were the part that mattered. 

My favorite part of the day was giving out presents. It was really awesome to see the surprise on people’s faces as they opened the gifts that I’d gotten for them. Not because I got everyone exploding worms or anything, but because I don’t think most were expecting me to haul sooo much back from Mexico with me. 

12/26/16- 12/27/16 (Monday- Tuesday)

I spent time with family and friends at home. It was really nice to be able to hang out with everyone. I loved spending time with my older siblings, niece and nephews. Of course I love spending time with everyone else as well. But having siblings who are so much older than me means that I’ve never really shared a home with them (unless you count that time that Mike sorta stayed with us for a few months while in a fire academy). It is great to have them around.   

Bracken, Tristan, Logan, and I worked on our technique with the coin flip thing. Bracken and I both got pretty good at it, but failed to capture it on video, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. Austin ran around the house dressed in a cop costume. Even with all of my mixed feelings regarding law enforcement, I had to admit, it was adorable.

I also loved spending time with my friend Casey, who manages to be simultaneously super kind to me, and also the first person to make fun of me when I do anything remotely strange. He was a really good sport, and worked on a new Christmas puzzle with me and my family. Which, in itself, wouldn’t be up everyone’s alley, but it was especially remarkable because Casey is colorblind. On Tuesday I went to a surprise birthday party for my mom’s friend Donna. It was really sweet. She clearly has a lot of people who really love her, and it was so nice to see how much it meant to her that so many of them showed up. It was a lovely testament to the power of being a good person and a good friend.

  12/28/16- Wednesday

I packed all day and in the evening I flew to San Jose so I could spend some time with Lee before heading back to Mexico. 

12/29/16-12/30/16 (Thursday & Friday)

Spent time hanging out with Lee and with various friends from bootcamp, college, and work. On Thursday morning a couple of friends teased me about not having changed the time on my phone (which was set to Central Time rather than Pacific Time), but I brushed that off as silly. 

On Friday morning I got up at 6 a.m. so that I could meet one of those same friends (and a few others) for coffee at 7 a.m.. Turns out, I’d set my alarm the night before in a state that could generously be called “half-asleep”, but a more accurate description would be “asleep but somehow still sorta functioning in the waking world”. Anyway, I got up, got ready, got in the car, drove in the dark, made it 10 minutes from home before I looked down at the clock in the car and saw that it said 4:50 a.m.. It turns out, I really was a fool for not changing the time on my phone. So I took the next offramp off the freeway, headed back home, got changed back into my pajamas, slept for an hour and then got up and retraced my steps to meet them for coffee, except this time I came bearing a story about my impressive idiocy. 

12/31/15- Saturday

I worked out with my bootcamp in the morning and it felt like I had lead weights tied to my ankles. I am shockingly out of shape. Like how did I go from being someone who would exercise 6 days a week, 5 out of 6 of those days at 6 a.m., to someone who basically bakes cookies and eats them in a competitive manner? I felt a little off all day, and even took a nap in an effort to recuperate, but nothing helped. Still, I kept brushing it off because I was not willing to let my New Years Eve be ruined by a sick-ish feeling. Turns out, I should have. I should have called it off. I ended up having to call it off (too late) anyway after I vomited all over myself (and all over everything else) just 10 minutes from our venue, in San Francisco, in my friend Sarah’s car. It was disgusting, and I felt terrible for Sarah, whose car was a mess and smelled revolting. Thankfully she is a very kind person, and both she and her friend (whom I had just met… yep, fantastic) did their best not to let me feel bad about it. 

At a parking lot I cleaned out the car to the best of my ability, using only water and paper towels. I got changed into a summer dress that Sarah had been planning on donating, but it turned out I needed it donated to me in that moment. A man drove up in a big VW van, looking like a 55-year-old Mexican-American Tommy Chong, and asked for directions to the nearest onramp to Sacramento. I looked it up on my phone and he got out of his car, leaving his pitbull and chihuahua (both dressed in Christmas sweaters) and stood by me while I searched. He even complimented the color of my eyes. I swear, his nose most have been busted from smoking so much over the years, because I won’t argue with his assessment that I have “awesome eyes”, but I smelled AWFUL.

2016 has felt like a damn curse in my life, and it just had to end that way. I have to admit though, it could have been much worse. I was able to call Lee, who was hanging out with friends in Oakland, and he came to rescue me. He is the best. He picked me up from a parking garage, which was great because it meant I could go home, and the other girls’ night was not ENTIRELY ruined by my dramatic digestive gymnastics. 

As the clock struck 12, Lee and I were halfway back to San Jose, and he was doing his best to hide his disgust at my awful stench. What a guy.

Good riddance to you, 2016.

1/1/17- 1/11/17 (Sunday- Wednesday)

I hung out mostly in San Jose, and a bit in Oakland, with Lee and with friends. It was nice to be back. Once again, really great to be treated like your presence is a gift, but bigger than that, it was wonderful to have a reminder of how many people care about me. I also really loved just hanging out with Lee and the dogs, staying inside, watching Parks and Recreation, and generally having a nice, boring, predictable life. It also felt great to go shopping in malls that I knew how to navigate, to eat food that isn’t available to me here in Mexico (including, funnily enough “Mexican food”), to never worry that the person that I was speaking to might not understand me, to never worry that I might have to ask, “What? Could you say that more slowly?”

It felt like such a privilege that I took every opportunity to talk to strangers. I struck up short conversations with nearly every person working at a checkout counter. Why? Because I could. Because I knew that even if it made me seem “quirky”, at least it wouldn’t make me look stupid. In the evening on the 11th I caught a flight to Miami. On the flight I watched Southside With You, the dramatic retelling of Barack and Michelle Obama’s first date. And I cried. I cried over losing my generation’s Kennedy, to be replaced by someone who frightens me. I cried over not knowing what is in store for my home country and, not having the faith that it will all work out. You know, it’s hard and scary to move out of the country, but I would argue that it’s even scarier to not recognize the country you come from. I’m still struggling to digest that. 

1/12/17- Thursday

I arrived in Mexico City and had an interesting conversation with my cab driver on the way to my AirBnB. He told me that he grew up in a small border town near Texas, and moved to Mexico City because it was much safer there. He said that the breaking point for him in his hometown was that he went to pick up his kid from kindergarten one day and stumbled upon a gunfight between cartel members and law enforcement. It was taking place on the street right out in front of the school. The teachers had instructed all of the students to lay flat on the ground until it had subsided. Though he was sure that the teachers would do everything they could to protect the children, the hopelessness and torment of having to wait, knowing his child was on the other side of a gunfight, was all the incentive he needed to leave. 

He said that he would bet that every family in his hometown has lost at least one family member or loved one to the cartels, and that young women and girls are often victims. When people are taken, they are referred to as “desaparecidos” (the disappeared). I find that terminology somehow poetic and heartbreaking. He lost his cousin that way. She was 26 years old, really bright, and an electrical engineer. I asked him about his kids and he said that his oldest was 13 and his youngest was 8. I asked him if he was nervous about raising a teenage boy and he let out big sigh and said “YES.” He told me that he had just been discussing it with a friend, and that his biggest concern right now is that his son is always on his phone. He said he went through his son’s phone and found stupid messages between him and other kids in South America, who were playing violent games and calling each other names. “I tell him all the time, ‘What are you doing on that? That’s not productive. It’s just not productive.’” It was sweet that he clearly cared so much, and that his struggle, though different in some ways, is largely the same as the struggle of parents all over the world. >> In my next post I will discuss what I actually saw and did in Mexico City, but I’m going to call it a day on this one.